#I should be grateful hes so cooperative honestly

[shadow1515]

Too Sweet

Pairing: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard/Female, Surface Reader Word Count: 5,138 Warnings: a lot, rape/non-con, older man (he’s a zombie basically)/younger woman (reader is 20), monster fucking, size kink, rough sex, gun play, blood kink, glove kink?, loss of virginity, dacryphilia, forced orgasm, orgasm denial, creampie Summary: Your father dead, brother gone in search for his killers, mother gone in search for him, you were left alone in the wilderness. You thought you knew how to take care of yourself, but that idea is challenged when a certain ghoul in a cowboy hat shows up at your dining room table. Tags: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. READ THE WARNINGS. DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ. MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY. Please, read the warnings, if any of this triggers you do not continue!!!!!!!!!! Note: first post here, but i also posted on ao3 where i have posted fics before... just... bear with me, the brain rot was real for this one. I have never written anything at this level of depravity but this yucky looking man without a nose took hold of me and I had to write this. I did most of it when I should have been studying for a quiz, but it's fineeeee. Anyway, please enjoy this 5k word piece of filth that was only read through once…… (And yes the title is based off Hozier’s song Too Sweet.)

You were born and raised on the surface with its sandy horizons and burning sun, but your life was definitely better than most others who live on the surface of this godforsaken world. Your parents had found a nice place with tons of supplies, the ability to grow plants, a water filter, and it was hidden fairly well. You weren’t entirely sure how they had found such a haven in the wasteland, but honestly you couldn’t complain too much. Alongside your older brother, you grew up knowing how to grow your own food, hunt, defend yourself, create booby traps, the normal things every kid grew up learning. You were also one of the lucky few that was taught how to read and write as your mother had been taught by her parents and passed it onto you and your brother, something you were forever grateful for. 

Books were a solace for you, one of the few you could find, especially after your brother ran off to god knows where and your mother went off in search of him just a few months ago. After your father passed away three years ago, your brother felt it necessary to be the “man of the house” and make sure you and your mother were taken care of. It wasn’t that you were ungrateful for his protection and watchful eye, but he could be a little extreme at times. Your father died just over a year ago, and it was hard on all of you. Perhaps your brother took it a bit harder since he never showed his sadness about it… only his anger. See, your father was killed by some raiders on one of his outings to get more supplies. Your brother was with him when it happened but managed to escape. You were almost one hundred percent sure that was where your brother had gone; looking for your father’s killers.

Unfortunately, that had been just over four months ago. A few days ago your mother grew sick of it and went to try and find your brother, leaving you all alone. You knew how to protect yourself and make sure the house was protected and hidden, but that didn’t mean you liked being alone or that you didn’t worry every day about your missing family. In fact, it made it worse.

You felt your patience and sanity wearing thin as the days went on and you heard nothing from your mother or brother. You were worried sick, the only things keeping you from running off by yourself were tending to the farm and the chickens, checking on the water filter, reading your books, really anything to distract you from the inevitable truth;that your family was dead. 

One day, you were out tending to the livestock and farms for most of the day. It was starting to get dark and mostly everything was done, so it was about time to head inside for the night. As soon as you opened the door, you could tell something was off. Maybe it was the slightly larger, sandy footprints through the hallway, or the way that everything around you seemed to stand still, either way you knew something was wrong. Unfortunately, you weren’t quick enough. Even with your added paranoia from being alone for a few days, your reflexes couldn’t have prepared you enough for the sight of a man… no, a ghoul, lounging at your dining table. Seat pulled back, feet on the table, fingers lazily playing with the trigger of the sawed off shotgun that was pointed directly at you. 

Part of his face was obscured by a ragged hat, but you could still tell that he was a ghoul, his face covered in scars, red and shiny from the radiation. He slowly lifted his head, dark eyes shining in the setting sun streaming through the window, the black hole where his nose should have been even more prominent as his gaze slowly trailed from your muddy boots up your bare legs (you wanted to wear shorts, it was hot out), across your curves until they finally landed on your face, lingering on your parted lips for a moment too long in your opinion. 

Your eyes, on the other hand, kept on moving between his ruined face to the gun pointed at you in quick succession, not knowing which to focus on more. Before you could think of doing anything else, he finally spoke.

“Well, sweetheart, seems you found yourself in quite the predicament here.” The words roll off his tongue easily, like they were practiced, used, normal for him to utter. That nickname too, so antagonizing and belittling with just two syllables. It made your blood boil… not like that… right?

You attempted to speak, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, your eyes still flicking between the barrel of the gun and the ruined face before you. Your very apparent lack of thoughts and speech only made the ghoul chuckle. It was a deep sound, like a rumble of the earth during a thunderstorm, the vibrations running all through your body, unyielding to the forces that surround you. 

“Cat got your tongue, darlin’?”

The question was not meant to be answered, in fact it made all semblance of words leave your mouth entirely. He stood up then, the spurs on his boots startling you as he took step after step closer to you, the gun in his hand hanging loosely at his side. At first, you didn’t move, but as he got closer, you took a fearful step back, not realizing until it was too late that he maneuvered you in such a way as he was getting closer so now your back was flush against the wall. The ghoul was close now, too close, so close you could feel his body heat, the stench of his breath from his yellowed mouth, the gunpowder and cigarettes and booze that lingered on him like a haze after a fire. He was terrifying. 

You let out a pathetic squeak as the end of his shotgun found its place underneath your chin, tilting your head up to make sure you looked him directly in the eyes. His eyes weren’t an evil yellow or filled with contempt, they were a deep brown, a soft brown, and they were filled with an emotion you really could not place. The position you were in was compromising, with his face inches from your own (his hips inches from your own). And that look in his eyes. Why couldn’t you figure it out?

The cool metal of the gun felt as if it was burning you as he tipped your head back just a bit more, his dark eyes focused on yours, “Ain’t you just a sweet little thing, all alone, no way of protectin’ yourself.” You did have a way of protecting yourself, it was called booby traps that he somehow managed to get by, but you bit your tongue. 

“What do you want with me?” You managed to speak that one question that was burning in your mind in spite of the shivers of fear that ran down your spine as your chin moved the shotgun touching it.

At that little comment from you, the ghoul smirked like the bastard he was, “Well you see, missy,” You felt a surge of relief followed quickly by terror again as the gun left your chin only to trail down your neck and land on the collar of your tank top, a collar that was already pretty low cut (again, it was hot). The barrel caught in the fabric as he continued to speak, “I have it on good information that this little abode of yours happens to also be the home of a stupid boy who crossed paths with the wrong man.”

Your heart sank. You knew exactly what he was referring to. Your fucking brother, off doing who knows what, stirring up the worst kind of trouble. He wanted to avenge your father, you knew that, but did he not think? Of course he didn’t. He thought it would be all unicorns and daisies as he tracked down a pack of murderers. Why would he think twice about the trouble that would bring onto you?

“Look, I–” You gave a dry swallow as the gun at your chest pushed further beneath your shirt, just shy away from tugging it to the side and taking a peek. “You’re looking for my brother, right? I-I don’t know where he is. He left months ago and then my mother–” You cut yourself off, you didn’t want your mother caught up as this bounty hunter’s prey as well.

The ghoul cocked his head to the side, eyes never leaving your face even as the gun moved the fabric of your tank top to the side, your cleavage very obviously there for the looking. “Don’t let me stop you, sweetheart. Please, tell me more about your dear mama.”

You felt the tears on your cheeks before you realized they even formed in the first place. Why did this have to happen? You were blessed, you knew that, with this home and your family, but that didn’t mean you had to have horrible things happen to you as well. You already lost your father, your brother and mother were gone, but you didn’t do anything. 

The ghoul’s gaze followed the tears as they trailed down your face, a twisted pleasure running through him as he watched them. You were too sweet for this world, too sweet for a man like him to find you all alone like this. 

Without much extra thought, you felt the ghoul position his leg between yours, the rough material of his pants around his thigh immediately rubbing against the cloth covering your bottom half. The movement caught you off guard and another gasp of surprise left your mouth, a fresh wave of tears trailing down your face. So that was what he wanted… Growing up you learned what it was that made babies, the simple things like that, but you were sheltered, never leaving your home or the confines of your land, much preferring to stay with your family and not venture out into the dangerous unknown. And it was made dangerous because men, of things, like him.

“Awh, what is it, darlin’?” You heard the gun click into its holster at his side, one hand moving to grip your hip with a strength that really shouldn’t have shocked you, the other moving towards your face, his gloved thumb swiping at the tears gathering there. You mewled again as his thigh moved, the rough fabric causing unwanted friction in an unwanted place. “You scared of little ol’ me?”

“Please,” The fear you felt before only grew as the realization dawned on you. He wanted information and he knew the only way of getting it out of you would be to hurt you… but that didn’t have to mean just cuts and bruises, especially for a man like him. “Please don’t do this. I- I don’t know anything else.” 

You knew it was a lie, he knew it was a lie. You just wanted to protect your mother, and maybe you could convince him of that. At least, you hoped you could. 

The ghoul moved the hand on your face down, resting on the collar of your shirt, “Sweetheart, you really don’t know how the world works out there, do ya?” His face moved closer to yours, his breath hot against the shell of your ear, “It’s eat or be eaten, darlin’, and you ain’t telling me what I wanna know.”

“But-” You hiccuped as fresh tears left your eyes, “But I don’t know anythi–”

A sharp gasp that bordered on a scream escaped you as the hand at your hip left to join the other one and a loud ripping sound invaded your senses, your tank top now ripped clean down the middle, exposing your breasts to him.

Damn, your skin was so soft. Not a scar on your body, just some dirt and scrapes from working outside. The sweat from the sun still lingered on your skin, making it glow, and that scent, it alone was enough to make a ghoul go feral. But he could stave off that feeling if he found a way to get rid of it. 

The ghoul’s eyes found yours again in spite of your breasts being right there. “Sweet thing,” God you hated how small his nicknames made you feel. “I don’t think you’re understandin’ still. I got a bounty to find, you know how to find ‘em, and, well, I know a fun way to get it outta ya.” 

At that last comment you felt the rough leather of his gloves finally touch your breast, squeezing and toying with them in a way you never thought possible. His hands were everywhere, twisting, rough, strong, it made your skin sweat and your back arch. You whimpered as he tugged at your nipples, the pain mixed with a different feeling, one that didn’t feel that bad. As your back arched, your hips unintentionally bumped against his and you felt something hard poke at you. Your eyes widened in shock, the nice feeling from before immediately dissipating as your situation dawned on you again. With that thought, a renewed vigor filled you, your hand clenching in a fist that was raised and swung at the monster’s face. 

Your punch landed with a loud thud but to your horror he didn’t even flinch, just stopped his ministrations on your breasts to glare at you, his anger radiating off of him in waves. 

A cruel smirk grew on his scarred face, “There’s that fight I was looking for.”

His sentence was punctuated with a harsh slap across your face, the force making your vision blink out for a couple of seconds as your head swung to the side. You tasted blood in your mouth and felt a strong hand grip your jaw, harshly moving your head so that it faced him again. 

“You wanna try that again, sweetheart, or are ya gonna tell me what I wanna know?”

Despite your fear and the knowledge that this man, this ghoul, could kill you in a matter of seconds, it would take more than that to get you to give up your mother and brother to him. With that thought in mind, you gathered up some of the blood in your mouth and spit at him, the red liquid splattering over his already reddened face. 

The hand at your jaw moved to grip your throat, squeezing just enough to cause discomfort and fear that he could do much worse. You watched in horror as his free hand then moved to gather up some of the blood on his face, the finger now sticky and shiny with it moving to his mouth as he licked it clean, a face of pure pleasure overcoming him as he tasted you. 

“You taste sweeter than apple pie,” Your throat was squeezed tighter as his face grew closer to yours, his missing nose making it easier to invade your space. “And that just makes me wanna taste you even more.”

His head immediately moved to your neck where you felt his hot breath on your shoulder, his hand moved to grab at your face to keep you from moving. You squirmed in his grasp as you felt a rough tongue drag against your skin, the feeling foreign to you. It seemed like he really was tasting you, licking at the sweat and grime that coated your skin, savoring the taste. Your body tried to wriggle free, a scream warbled by the grip he had on your cheeks as you felt the blunt ends of his teeth bite deep into the juncture of your shoulder and neck. The force in which he bit down was sure to leave a mark, the abused flesh turning red and irritated almost immediately. 

You wanted to pass out right then and there, your mind racing with thoughts of what he might do to you next. He lingered at your neck for a moment before giving it one last swipe of his tongue and returning to look you dead in the eyes, a wicked smile on his scarred skin. Your face was smushed together by his gloved hand and you watched as his gaze traveled back to your neck, back to the mark he left there. His hand quickly followed that gaze, trailing over the mark before gripping your throat again. You saw as the thoughts and emotions raced behind his eyes but you didn’t know where they would lead.

Without any more warning, the ghoul used the hand on your throat to swing you around, slamming your back onto the table. You tried to get out from under him, swinging your arms and legs wildly, screaming (not that anyone would hear you), trying to land a punch or a kick, anything to get away. The ghoul grabbed a hold of your wrists in one hand, pinning them to the table above your head as his free hand went to his waist, grabbing the shotgun from its holster and pointing at your face once again. 

Your struggle stopped the moment you heard the holster pop open, your terror growing tenfold as you knew at this distance, one simple slip of his finger would cause your entire head to explode off your body. The ghoul’s smirk was horrible, devilish, and it turned your blood ice cold. He moved the barrel of the gun closer to you until it brushed against your pursed lips still stained red from your blood.

You knew what he wanted you to do, but you couldn’t, the thought making you want to die on the spot. The ghoul didn’t seem to like that, though, the barrel pushing against your lips more roughly.

“Open wide, darlin’” His voice was dark, gravely, filled with irritation but also wild interest, or perhaps lust. “You really don’t wanna make me even more angry.”

You looked deep into his eyes, the flakes of red across his face from your blood making him appear even more frightening, even more like a monster only seen in children’s stories. You knew if you hesitated any longer he’d be more than happy to pull the trigger and blow your head clean off. Your vision grew blurry as more tears formed, your mouth opening just the slightest amount to allow for the gun to slide past your lips. The taste of metal and gunpowder made you want to gag, your eyes finding the dark ones above you as a slow exhale of breath left the ghoul’s mouth, his gaze transfixed on the way his gun slid deep into your mouth.

“Ain’t that a sight,” He spoke in a low tone, voice filled with fascination.

The gun moved deeper into your mouth, the taste giving way to pain as it pushed against the back of your throat, your mouth wrapping painfully around it, stretching it in uncomfortable ways. You felt it begin to leave your mouth before pushing back in, the slow fucking of your throat by a gun making your tears only increase, the gaging sensation becoming more prominent. You tried to move your arms, to get the gun out of your mouth, but his grip was too strong, his fascination with the scene he created too enticing for him to stop. You felt a hard poke against your thighs as they draped over the end of the table and were pinned by the ghoul’s strong body. You continued to gag around the gun as he fucked it faster and rougher into your face, his breaths becoming louder above you. The hard poke from before rubbed against your thigh as he continued, unprovoked, or perhaps more enticed by your tears and the pathetic sounds attempting to leave around the thick barrel of his gun.

“It’s a damn good thing you ain’t out in the real world, pretty lady. You woulda been eaten right up the moment someone laid eyes on ya.” 

His final comment was finished as the gun was shoved further down your throat, a garbled scream rising from you only to be smothered by the metal. He finally removed the weapon from your mouth, saliva making the metal glisten in the dying light from the sun outside. Your cheeks felt burning hot, covered in your tears and sweat as you were given some reprieve from his assault. 

The ghoul looked over his gun, that same bastardly smirk still prominent on his face as he placed it back in its holster, leaving your spit still on it. “Now that was fun, wasn’t it sweetheart,” You tried to glare at him, but didn’t dare speak, your mouth too sore and abused. Your small fight made the ghoul chuckle again, the hand holding your wrists dragging you up from the table with a harsh yank. His face was inches from yours again as he held you in the air, the only thing keeping you from falling was his grip on your hands and his hips digging into yours against the table. “Wanna tell me where you dear mama is now?”

So this torture was still to get information out of you. You loved your mother, you couldn’t bear the thought of giving her up so easily just to save your own skin. 

“Fuck you.” Your voice was strained, your throat throbbing in pain at each syllable. 

“I hoped you’d say that.” With a shove, he threw you to the floor, moving to stand over you. With your limbs finally free, you scrambled to get away, but he was too quick, one heeled boot slamming down on your leg with enough force to stun you. You screamed out in pain, eyes going wide as you watched him reach for his belt, foot still pressed against your leg, keeping you from moving. His hands worked slowly, the terror building up in you at each passing second. His belt came off far too quickly followed by the button of his pants. 

You closed your eyes, not wanting to see where this was going. You heard the rustle of fabric as the ghoul removed his foot from your leg and went to straddle you, strong thighs on either side of your hips, one hand slammed against the floor beside your head, the other grabbing your jaw in a vice-like grip. 

“Eyes on me, sweetheart,” You hesitated before giving in as his grip strengthened to the point of pain, making you gasp and your eyes fly open. “I want you to watch as I ruin you.”

The tears never seemed to stop, his hand leaving your jaw only to rip your shorts and panties down your legs in one harsh tug, the fabric burning against your too sensitive skin. You didn’t dare look down, your gaze staying fixed on his, hoping that if you didn’t look then it wasn’t actually going to happen. 

In spite of your prayers, you felt the rough leather of a gloved finger run through your folds, a sharp intake of breath the only sound you made. Your attempts at staying quiet were soon overcome as his finger found that secret spot just at the top of your cunt, the roughness of the glove and the fear that was coursing through your blood made it even more sensitive and a small mewl of discomfort left your lips. 

The ghoul continued to rub at your clit, your thighs beginning to shake, the sounds escaping your throat enough to make your skin boil in shame. “C’mon, pretty lady, do ya really wanna make this harder on yourself?” He went to whisper in your ear again, his fingers working magic against you. “I can make this feel so good for ya, just tell me what I wanna hear.”

Your hips began to buck against his hand, your moans growing louder as his thumb remained on your clit, one finger entering your cunt and it was like you were seeing stars. You had never done anything like this before, never really had the chance to. You experimented by yourself of course, but having someone else do it to you? It was on a whole other level. 

You chased your peak like it was the only thing standing in the way of your survival, your hips shaking, mouth agape, eyes still fixed on the dark ones above you. You were so close. You could feel it building, boiling over–

A pathetic cry left you as he removed his hand, bringing it up to his face as he inspected the wetness now coating his fingers. With that same hand he gripped your cheeks, your own fluids coating your face, the scent invading your senses. 

“I said I could make ya feel good, but you haven’t given me anythin’ in return yet.” His tone was so cocky, so arrogant, and yet it sent warmth shooting down to your core, unbidden and unwelcome to your mind, but it was received with exaltation as it fueled the slowly dying fire within you. 

“Please–” It was pathetic, you knew that, and you weren’t even sure what you were saying please to, please stop, please don’t stop, please let me come mr ghoul sir?

Your desire was partially snuffed out as you felt something large and warm slap against your stomach. The suddenness of it made you forget to not look down as your gaze landed on the ghoul’s cock. It was big, the skin red and irritated, scarred from the radiation, just like the rest of his body. As much as the pleasure he was giving you before felt amazing, you couldn’t take that thing. 

“That can’t fit,” You spoke hurriedly, the fear taking hold once more. “Please, I-I don’t know anything! I can’t help you, just please don’t put that in me.” Your sobs grew hysterical, tears free flowing, incoherent mumbles leaving you. “Sweetheart, you really think I care?” 

He was cruel, he was a monster, a horrible, despicable monster.

The ghoul reached for his discarded belt, using it to tie your wrists together above your head as you tried to squirm away from him again. And you watched in terror as one of his hands guided the head of his cock to hit against your opening, the other hand roaming down your neck to grab at your breasts again. The tip of him tried to get inside of you and you already felt like you would die right there.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you are tight.” His gaze left his cock and moved to look at you again, “You never been fucked before, have ya?”

Your blabberings and the fear in your eyes was enough of an answer for him. “Damn, didn’t think I’d find a cunt as sweet as yours in this place.” He finally managed to push in, the pain was horrible, it made your insides burn, your mind going blank. “Makes me wanna stay here just a bit longer, still gotta know where your little shit of a brother is afterall.”

Your mind was gone, overcome with pain as he pushed more of his length into you, heedless of your squirming, your tears, the resistance he felt as he kept on going deeper and deeper. 

It was horrible, you were glad your brain tried to block out other thoughts, albeit in vain as he pulled out just to slam back into you, fully sheathed in your tight cunt. 

“You’re gripping me like a vice, darlin’, I dunno if I can even get out.” He gave a soft chuckle at that, punctuated with a sharp tug from your warmth only to shove it back in at a brutal pace. 

You couldn't take it, couldn’t comprehend how this was happening to you. Distantly, you heard as his gloves came off, the rough skin of his fingers grabbing your hip with enough strength to form bruises while the other other arm braced against the floor beside your head, using it as leverage to rut into you. Your legs were splayed around his, your back scraping against the wooden floor, digging sharp lines into your skin. 

You could faintly hear quiet sounds escape the man above you as he fucked you, his arms moving to grab your legs, bending them until your knees were beside your head, allowing him to reach even deeper into you. The head of his cock felt like a nail was being hammered into your cervix with each thrust. Your glazed eyes wandered down to see where you were joined and a jolt of horror ran through you. Each time he rammed into you, your belly bulged up a bit, it was like he was rearranging your insides to make more room for him. 

The ghoul’s gaze followed yours and a louder grunt left him, one hand leaving your leg to press against the bulge on your belly. “Darlin’, you’re just too good for this fucked up world.”

The house was filled with the noises of flesh meeting flesh, your eyes were blank, staring up at the ceiling his thrusts continued. You didn’t want to think, to feel, to exist anymore. But the ghoul has other plans. Your face scrunched up as you felt a textured finger find your clit once more, rubbing it in all the right ways to make your mind snap back into focus. The pleasure was building again, each snap of his hips mixed with the bundle of nerves at your center being played with and you were reaching that peak again. Your moans intermingling with the slapping of flesh on flesh, you didn’t want to reach that crest and fall over it, you didn’t want this encounter to feel good for you too, but by god it did.

Your voice was raw as it screamed out, your pleasure pushed over the edge as you came, your thighs coating with your fluids, the noises becoming even more obscene as he continued to fuck you harder and faster.

“Goddamn, you are just too fucking good.”

His hands gripped your hips as his pace quickened but lost its rhythm. You knew he was getting close and the overstimulation of being fucked through and beyond your orgasm was making it hard to think of anything other than him. His hips finally stopped pistoning into you, giving one last, rough thrust as something hot and sticky filled you up, leaking out around his cock that remained in you. 

The ghoul braced his hands on either side of your head, his eyes zeroed in on yours, breath heavy, sweat on his brow. “You gonna help me out now, sweetheart?”

Your head lolled to the side, eyes closing as you passed out. 

[walpu]

I found a really interesting premise that I think you would execute perfectly. The IPC has established a "mental and emotional health department" basically therapists to help with the stressed out or traumatised IPC worker and it's a mandatory thing to have one visit with them. The reader works in this department and when Topaz, Aventurine and Ratio (separately) went in, all probably thinking it's pointless. Reader proceed to read them like a book to the mineut details of their issues. How would they react? Would they come back for another visit?

thank you so much for your trust, it was actually very interesting to write 🥹

being their therapist

characters - Dr. Ratio, Aventurine, Topaz

notes - gn!reader, no romantic undertones, mostly character study

Dr. Ratio

I feel like he would be a bit taken aback at first.

He didn't expect you to go further than a few generic questions about how the latest missions have affected him and suddenly you're asking about his feelings regarding the IPC recurring him.

"Weren't you disappointed? Didn't you feel like your cooperation with the IPC symbolizes you drifting further away from joining The Genius Society? How do you view The Genius Society in general?"

It's a bit too personal for his liking but he has to admit that you are truly an expert in your field.

I can see him rather harshly asking why are you stepping out of the line with your questions since it's hardly concerns the topic of the therapy session. Not because he's too troubled by you seeing through him but simply because of the professional ethics.

When you elaborate that it's the IPC's request to make a full psychological portrait of their workers he just sighs.

His answers are short, he doesn't elaborate much. Sometimes he simply says that the topic you mentioned doesn't affect his mental state in a way that can prevent him from doing his job and leaves it at that.

He doesn't trust the IPC much since he knows better than giving a powerful organization information about his weaknesses. He does feel a certain level of respect towards you and your professionalism though.

Doesn't feel targeted or overly vulnerable even if it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth to hear his insecurities being acknowledged.

Wouldn't show up again. Mostly because of his distrust to the IPC tho.

Aventurine

Oof.

Both of you will need a drink after that.

There's just so much to unpack really.

If you try to ask him about how he feels almost dying at each mission, he downplays it.

If you ask about his childhood trauma, he shrugs it off.

I don't know how many people saw his interview for anan but everytime he's asked about something personal he brings up how he's actually lucky and hiw he should be grateful. So you get tve spirit.

Doesn't matter what your question is, his answer is the same. He survived, he was loved by his family, all his suffering led him to this, so of course he's grateful what are you taking about ha ha!

Look at his voicelines too, praising the IPC and all that. He gives you this generic answers and hopes you'll buy it.

Well you don't but you also can't force him to answer more honestly.

He himself would be deeply troubled by you reading him like that. He feels weak, defenseless. Like all he has done to protect his inner self was for nothing since you can see through him like that.

0/10 experience he won't show up ever again. Nothing personal against you, he just can't do it. Plus he doesn't trust the ipc either so.

Topaz

Honestly the most normal one.

She will at least try to be honest since she trusts the IPC (maybe a bit too much, which is also a coping mechanism and not the healthiest one, but you can't really call her out on this since you're working for the ipc and, let's be honest, they would not respect their workers' privacy, they WOULD force you to give them their personal information if needed and you don't want to make it worse for Topaz)

She may be a bit taken aback at first but it honestly feels good to talk about her struggles and inner conflicts. And I'm sure she has a lot of those since she's actually trying to do good things, still believing that the IPC can bring positive changes.

Will probably share her experience in Belobog with you.

Will use your meetings as an opportunity to sort out her feelings about her missions.

Has a lot of respect for you personally and actually tries to do some soul-searching to make your meetings more productive.

The only one out if the three of them who would come back

[atomic--peach]

Her Grace's Handmaid Pt.7

(Cersei Lannister x Fem Reader x Sandor Clegane Smut: Praise Kink, Oral {m receiving}, Breeding Kink, Fluff. )

AO3 VERSION: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48276340

The Wedding itself was rushed.

They received Lord and Lady Stark's blessing to use the Winterfell sept to perform the ceremony, and Septon Chayle was more than willing to help once he was convinced neither you nor Sandor were being forced against your will.

Which wasn't technically true, but honestly it just seemed easier to go with it than fight against it. If it had to be anyone, you thought as you entered the great sept decorated with carved masks of The Seven, at least it was him.

Sandor's house was too new to have a cloak to slip over your back, and even if they had it would have been in the Westerlands. Instead they used his regular riding cloak, which was warm and woolen.

The king presided over the ceremony, along with Cersei who looked as if someone was sticking a knife between her ribs to keep her there. Prince Joffery had insisted upon coming out of morbid curiosity. Perhaps he thought they would drag you into the sept kicking and screaming. Princess Marcella tailed her older brother, convinced the wedding would be a romantic affair.

"One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever"

The kiss was a surprisingly soft one, his whiskers prickled your cheeks, but his lips found your almost out of instinct. They were warm and insistent. When he pulled away, you wished he hadn't.

"Congratulations, you two" Chayle nodded, gathering his official looking robes around him. "I wish you both a long and happy life together."

"Thank you, Septon." You nodded politely. Sandor didn't even acknowledge him as he left, looking to the royals with hard eyes that begged the question of "now what?"

"Well now" Robert grumbled, "That's that settled then. Right?"

"Yes, Your grace." You curtseyed meekly, tucking your small hand it to Sandor's gloved one.

"We should give you a minute." Cersei breathed, "Come darlings, the Starks are feasting us tonight we should get ready."

The matriarch led the royal family out of the sept, the door closing with an echoing clang.

"Are you okay?" You whispered, squeezing his hand slightly. "You haven't said anything."

"Fine" He nodded, "You?"

"Good." You confirmed. "You don't think they expect us to..." You led off into the open air.

Sandor grunted, "No one's going to force you to fuck me, if that's what your worried about."

"Hey" you snapped at him, pulling his arm with surprising strength so he was facing you. "First of all, No one could force me to do anything I don't want to do if they tried. Secondly, it's less the act of fucking you I'm worried about and more the complete lack of privacy."

"Oh" Sandor's brow arched, "Now she's worried about privacy. If you had thought of that before, we wouldn't be here."

You knew he was just teasing you from his tone, and you bumped him with your hip slightly. "Fuck you."

The sept door opened slightly, drawing you attention as the queen slipped through the crack.

"Your Grace" you breathed, "Are you-"

"I'm fine." She nodded, "Robert is satisfied. it seems we are off the hook for now."

She eyed the two of you together with a strange glow behind her eyes.

"Have you two...?" she tried to find the words, "I have arranged for a room below to be made up for you. I know it's not much of a wedding, but for the marriage to be legal you will have to-"

"We figured." Sandor grunted, seeming almost embarrassed.

"Sweetling," Cersei eyed you, "would you give me a minute with your husband? Alone?"

"Oh" You blinked, "I- Of course Your Grace. I'll be outside."

The pair of them watched you go before Cersei turned to The Hound with a cold look. She wanted to blame him, yet couldn't.

She wanted to punish him for getting close to you, even if it wasn't his fault.

But it would do her no good to make an enemy of him.

"Clegane, I want you to know how grateful I am for your cooperation in this."

Sandor didn't respond, not bothering to point out he didn't really have a choice in it.

"However, if the rush of things I know some details have been overlooked." Cersei continued, "How well do you know your new wife?"

"Well enough." Sandor shrugged.

"She's special, you know" Cersei impressed upon him. "As loyal as any pet and as sweet as can be. And so trusting."

Sandor's attention was on her, but Cersei couldn't tell if her words were making any impact, which was frustrating.

"If you plan to rape her tonight, I will make sure you never leave this wretched castle alive."

Sandor swallowed at this, caught fully off guard but trying hard not to show it.

"I hadn't made any such plans, Your Grace" He said stiffly, "but the night is still young."

Cersei's face twisted in rage at his implication, wanting nothing more than to have his ugly head mounted on the castle gates.

------

The room was tucked away in the lower levels of Winterfell. You had expected it to be cold, but instead it was pleasantly warm compared to the temperatures above ground.

The chamber itself was mostly empty. These rooms hadn't been used in years; the steward had assured you as you were led down the stairs by torchlight. Sandor had to duck to enter the doorway, finding you sitting on the large bed waiting for him.

"You'd think they'd have let you finish early, all things considered" You joked, moving to help him settle in. You had been sent down earlier, but mostly because queen had not yet figured out what to do with you.

You carefully helped him remove his plate armor bit by bit, until he sighed from the weight being lifted off of him.

He hadn't spoken much; he never spoke much. But particularly now it was worrying, mostly because all you wanted was to talk your nervousness away.

"Sandor?" Your hand moved from his arm to his face, "Please, talk to me. Say something, anything, if only to make me less nervous about all of this."

Sandor sighed, "Okay, what do you want to talk about?"

"Well." You began, "Do you want to do this tonight?"

He stopped at the question and looked at you.

"Because it's okay if you don't." You assured him, "We've been around each other for over a month and you've never tried to...Well I just thought it you wanted to, you'd have tried by now."

He considered this a moment, sitting on a spare chair to get more on your level with his legs spread out lazily. You moved closer to him as his large hands guided you between them.

"You think I haven't thought about it?" He confessed, "You think all those days you spent following me around, those nights you spent sleeping in the stables I didn't imagine dragging your foolish ass into my tent and fucking that kicked puppy look off your face?"

You flushed at this, leaning against his thigh hesitantly as if to ask permission before his hands gripped your waist and pulled you up to straddle his lap. Your toes barely scrapped the floor on either side of him.

"When you let the queen fuck you so the whole camp could hear, do you really think I was the only one who wasn't imagining making you moan like that?" He leaned forward, face less than an inch from yours. "You think when that fat fuck of a king said told us we'd be getting married, a part of me didn't say 'Fucking Finally'?"

Brushing your nose against his cheek, you felt your body begin to quiver on his lap.

"Sandor" You breathed against his ear, "Gods, hold me."

He obeyed, wrapping his arms around you to press your body to his tightly. You breathed in his scent of leather and smoke, hands crawling up and down his back and shoulders to memorize every ridge and groove of his muscled body.

Slowly, you began rocking your hips against his. Grind yourself against him until you felt a hardness so long it almost frightened you grow under the fabric of his trousers.

He was so warm; his body was like a furnace. Radiating heat that wrapped around you like a comforting blanket as his hands stationed themselves on the swell of your hips and guided your movements.

"Sweetling" His voice was a growl, so different from the way Cersei's sweet voice taunted you. This was a rumble, deep and heavy, "Fuck, keep doing that, and we won't even make it to the bed."

You whined but stopped obediently, allowing his hands to peel you off his lap and standing you on your own two feet.

"Good Girl." He smirked, eyes scanning you like a search light. "You have two choices, either you strip for me yourself, or I tear those clothes off of you. Your choice."

Gods did you want the second one, but you only had three dresses to your name so instead you began to strip at an achingly slow pace, tightening the spring both in both your bodies and knowing it would make it feel that much better when it snapped.

"That's it, nice and slow" Sandor's hand slowly cupped his hardening cock through his pants as he took in the sight of your body, the other hand working to take off his belt and loosen his strings. "Now, come here."

You obeyed, instinctively getting on your knees as you settled between his thighs. You purred hungrily, rubbing your face along the inside of his thigh and nestling your mouth over the imprint of his cock but waiting patiently for him to give permission to fully take him.

A growl formed in his throat like rolling thunder, his hand finding your hair and struggling not to press you down harder.

"Please," You whimpered, trying to seem as appealing as possible.

Sandor chuckled darkly at that. "Please what?"

"Please let me take your cock out." You persisted, "We've waited long enough for each other. Please don't tease me, Sandor."

The sound of your voice whining out his name, begging for him, made the Hound harder than he's ever been.

"Whatever you want."

That was all the permission you needed, quickly clawing past his small clothes and slipping the large, warm head of his cock down your throat.

You reveled at that sounds you managed to coax out of him, having caught him off guard and unprepared for how eager you'd become. His grip on your hair had become painful, so you gently urged it down to the back of your neck, allowing him to scruff you like one does a pup and guide your head up and down.

"Gods" He choked out as you took his deeper.

You knew he was too long for you to take fully, and so pumped the remainder of his length with your hand, allowing your other hand to wander between your legs.

The way your moans vibrated around him almost sent the hound over the edge, knuckled white from gripping the arm of the chair her found himself unexpectedly trapped in.

"Fuck, Fuck!" Sandor didn't usually finish quickly, but the look in your eyes as you swallowed his load told him that had been exactly what you wanted.

Breathing heavily, he tried to catch his breath as you climbed back onto his lap, cunt down drenched and dripping from touching yourself for him.

"Darling" You cooed into his ears, "I haven't worn you out too quickly, have I?"

"Fuck that." Sandor growled, grip tightening around you. "You're not getting off that easily, you evil little minx."

"Good" You grinned, kissing a line up his neck along the scared half of his face, "Because I'm not stopping until we're both half dead and sure you've fucked an heir into me."

Sandor rumbled, snatching you off his lap and throwing you over his shoulder. You laughed at this, kicking your legs eagerly as he delivered you onto the bed and pinned you under his weight.

"Your precious twins told me what a sweet girl you are." He taunted you, pinning your wrists by your head. "How trusting and innocent"

He ducked his head down to take a nipple into his mouth. The heat of his tongue and the gentle pressure of his teeth making your back arch and press your breast firmer against his face. Your moans came in sharp, quick gasps as one hand released your wrist in favor of massaging the other breast with rough, calloused palms. Your freed hand flew to his hair, gripping it tightly as you cried out.

"Do they know?" He pressed, scrapping his teeth over your tit before switching to the other side, "What an eager little slut you are? How happy you were to hop into bed with me?"

You wanted to shake your head, but in truth you weren't sure if he was actually expecting an answer. Instead, you tried to move your mind away from them and onto your husband.

"I don't want to talk about them" You confessed, "Oh fuck, just like that, Darling."

Sandor hummed thoughtfully at this.

"You don't want to think of them?"

"No."

"No?" Sandor, shifted upwards and turned his attention from your breasts to your neck, sucking so hard it would surely bruise. He rubbed the length of his cock up and down your slit teasingly.

"Then how about I fuck you so hard, you forget their names? Would you like that, sweetling?"

Your moan came out as a growl as you clawed at his shirt, desperate to feel more of his skin on top of you.

"Answer me."

"Yes" you begged, "Gods, Sandor I can't take much more waiting."

And you didn't have to. Sandor's knees began to push your legs apart as he lifted up enough to strip off his shirt and trousers.

He was large, larger than you had previously taken and your hesitance must have shown on your face, because instead of crawling back on top of you like he planned, he instead rolled over so you were on top straddling him.

The tip went in easy enough, but his cock grew girthier as you slid down, and by halfway you found yourself panting.

"Easy" He hushed you, "Go slowly."

You nodded, carefully bouncing on what you could take so far. It was far more filling than any you'd taken before, and it was as if something inside of you shifted with each little bit you took.

"Fuck' You whimpered; eye twisted closed in focus "I'm not sure it'll fit."

Rough fingers found your clit, shocking your eyes open as it rolled and pressed against the sensitive bundle.

"Ah" You gasped, instinctively rolling your hips and rocking to the tempo. "Oh Gods,"

"That's it" Sandor breathed, watching as a bit more of his length sank deeper into your cunt, "just relax and take it like I know you can."

Your core began to tighten as his fingers pressed harder and his other hand began to guide you in sliding up and down the length of his cock, taking it a little deeper each time.

"Good girl, sweet girl" Sandor's breath was getting heavier, closing his eyes to focus and to push his release off as long as possible. "Just like that, fuck."

After thinking you had grown accustomed to his size, you bounced a little harder and cried out in shock. Sandor's cock filled you to the hilt, your hips pressed together as close as possible.

"Sh, sh." Sandor wrapped one arm around your waist and one round your shoulders, shifting into a sitting position while still buried deep inside of you. "Breathe, just breathe."

"Fuck" You gripped his broad shoulders, "it's. deep" you spoke between gasps.

"Do you want to stop?"

"No." You shook your head. "No, I just need a minute."

Sandor didn't protest, instead focusing on the shifting and pulsing walls wrapped around his cock, desperately attempting to accommodate him.

"Look at me." He breathed.

You obeyed, leaning back to face him fully.

It was a level of intimacy you had never experienced before, or even thought possible. Him being buried so deeply inside of you as you straddled his hips. Chest to chest, both breathing heavily.

You looked him in the eye, frowning for a moment before reaching up to brush away the shaggy hair that hung over the scarred half of his face.

"There you are" You whispered playfully, trying to break the tension enough to relax.

"Gods" Sandor breathed, "You look beautiful like this."

Entwining your fingers behind his neck, you rocked your hips slowly, not allowing his length to withdraw entirely before rocking back as before.

This time you kept him nestled deep inside of you as you panted and ground against him. The friction reached your clit, sending lightening through your hips and urging you forward.

Sandor groaned, feeling you clench around him as you chased your high. Your hands tangled in his hair and pressed his face to yours, catching his lips and exploring each other's mouths with curious tongues and eager lips.

"Fuck" you squealed into his ear, locking your arms around his neck. "I'm so close. So close, please. Gods, ah"

Your words came as nearly incoherent ramblings, hips bucking and grinding against him desperately until a flood of pleasure filled you.

It wasn't like with Cersei, or with Jaime. They had been fast, and brutal. Their pleasure came like a bolt of lightning hitting the back of the skull.

This pleasure came like a flash flood, filling you quickly and lingering as your muscles spasmed and tenses in an unknown rhythm. It ebbed away slowly but left you warm and glowing.

When Sandor realized you were cumming, he allowed himself to release deeply inside of you, flooding your womb with his seed and a heat that filled your stomach.

As the flood ebbed away, the two of you sat there, still connected and not wanting to separate.

"I want to stay like this." you begged him in a whisper he couldn't bear to deny. "Please."

Nodding, he pulled the blanket that had fallen half off the bed over the two of you as you leaned on his chest, your chin resting on his shoulder. Neither of you spoke, only lulling each other into sleep with gentle touches and heavy breathing.

[mr-orion]

ok I must have more lore on this Icarus I keep seeing since I’m officially in love with him and want to kiss

he and I should kiss

also may I draw him bc that drawing you posted of him gossiping tickles my brain so much-

"I guess if the inspiration strikes... me being your muse must happen."

Oh boy. He's a bit of a firecracker and not very PG. He's in fact, kind of mean. As for the kissing, you and Ray both, though I think Icarus will shake you down for all your cash before you start getting any affection. As for drawing, yeah! I'm always grateful for any drawings and honestly treasure each one I get!

I don't see the harm in saying it as it is. He's a prostitute and escort. Man is raking in the big bucks working under Stags INC. The only reason Ray and him are friends is because Icarus has a lot of intel on the people manning the cartels. While Ray initially got his cooperation by bargaining to sweep his drug use under the carpet, he found Ray is a fun guy and not too sleazy to be around. Plus he's fun to tease, which is Icarus' favorite thing.

He's a Stav'raw, as opposed to Ray who is an Auveri. Unlike Ray he cannot fly. He has dense bones and his wings are only good for a glide. Which, he doesn't preen them. He was never taught so he is absolutely matted with feathers he hasn't thought to pull out. He's actually much more vibrant but because he's so fucking crusty with feathers from his whole existence you can't really tell. Additionally the sclera of his eyes is black. Along with his mouth and lips. He also gave himself a split tongue.

He comes from a very neglectful household with a mother who was a first generation Earthian and a non-existent father. He found his profession as a way out of that bad situation. Though Icarus' dream job is being able to help kids someday. He wants to be a pediatrician for alien children, believing that if one adult had noticed the abuse happening to him he could have been helped.

While Icarus doesn't think he'll make it because of his job history, Ray encourages him. Also reassures him that there are other ways he can help people. While Icarus is bummed he's only just starting to get into the 9 years of schooling at 28, he remains hopeful.

His hobbies consist of video games, nursing classes, clubbing, taking his dogs for walks along the beach, and riding his motorcycles around.

Another fun fact is that this man is absolutely the best of friends with Rays older brother Rowan. Though he has no clue the two are related because they look nothing alike and it's just never comes up. It will be chaos when all three of them figure it out and Rowan tries to beat him for trying to rizz up his beloved sibling. Ray will also get a scolding for bringing sweet, innocent Icarus into his less ethical detective practices. Ha.

Additionally, in freak coincidence Rowans child, is also his niece! He genuinely had no clue until one night in a deep conversation his best friend opened up about how similar Icarus looks to his niece, Onyx's egg donor. Icarus developed an even deeper hatred for his twin sister that night upon Rowan opening up even more about what his sister did to him. (It gets real fucking dark, so I'll spare those details.)

Icarus absolutely hates talking about his blood relations unless its Onyx. Who he treasures deeply and is so proud of. And by proxy Rowan. Of course. Who is his bro, his best friend, his pogchamp.

I can't think of much more, if you want to know something specific please feel free to send more asks!

[lesbianmaxevans]

SEX/LIFE || 2.04 ‘THE WEAKNESS IN ME’

I am so truly sorry and ashamed of what happened with Cooper. And especially Hudson. Is he okay? We convinced him that you two were playing a game. And he’s young enough that he bought it. I’m really glad. What I did was not to hurt you. I need you to know that.

[Image Description: Ten stacked gifs from Sex/Life.

Trina: I’ve just been... so envious of you for having the guts to go after your own happiness, when I don’t even have the foggiest idea what would make me happy. Billie: What are you talking about? Trina: Turns out the sex parties were just a distraction from what was happening in my marriage, or... what wasn’t happening. Billie turns around to face Trina. Trina: I tried going back to work. Like you. Honestly, I’m just grasping at straws, and Cooper was one of those straws. Billie: Oh, Trina. You should not be envious of me. I -- I don’t have anything figured out. Not by a mile. Trina: But you made such bold choices. You didn’t just stay silent, do what we’re all supposed to do, keep our mouths shut and act grateful. Billie: You can make bold choices too, you know. Trina has tears in her eyes but she smiles and nods.]

[professor-amaryllis]

A box absolutely packed full of various goodies from Casi. It’s a wonder she even bothered to carry it around. When the box is first opened there’s a note at the top. 

The other contents of the box include:

A collection of Sinnohan snacks, some popular and some more obscure.

Small plastic bag containing around 20 identical rubber bracelets. Each bracelet is a gradient of purple to green and has “Professor Amaryllis has no social media” written on them in bold white letters.

A Gracidea flower patterned button up and matching bandana.

The bottom of the box lined with a full set of Ball Capsules, several packs of miscellaneous stickers, and a few specifically selected stickers of a Meganium’s flower, a stylized Toadscool in mid sprint, and several different poison type symbols and Pokemon.

Buried underneath all of the Ball Capsules is a decorative envelope containing an extra, smaller note and a rectangular keychain. One side of the keychain is art of an Arbok in a popular tattoo style, the back says Celadon Game Corner.

The first note reads as follows:

Happy Birthday! At least I hope it’s happy. I bought a lot of this stuff after my birthday, before I knew we would both be in Sinnoh at the same time. Some of this stuff might be a little redundant but I hope you still like them! I got you a bunch of snacks I used to like as a kid since you bought me snacks! The bandana should fit Cooper assuming he cooperates. I buy accessories from this company all the time for my Pokemon and they’ve seemed to enjoy them.

If you’ve never used Ball Capsules before you put them over your Pokeballs and you put stickers on them. It’s just a cute way to decorate. Adds a little Flare when you use the Pokeball too! Super cool stuff. Reusable too. 

As for the bracelets, I just kinda thought they would be funny for you to wear and give out to people as you see fit. Lemme know if I should order more.

Love always,

Your friend and doppelganger Casimir Ginkgo

At the bottom of the page is a silly scribble of a Sneasel.

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

[A photo is embedded. It seems to be a selfie, Amy at the book fair. Cooper, on his shoulders, wears the bandana, and tries to swipe the camera from Amy.]

Casi, I know we only had a moment when we ran into each other, So I wanted to say thank you so much for all of this. Honestly This is so beyond sweet, I’m not even sure what to say. You’ve been an incredible friend to me from the time we’ve met and I could not be more grateful to have you in my life. I Don’t know how you knew I loved stickers so much but now I have even more of a reason to add to my collection hehe. Cooper loves the bandana, and I’m sure I’ll love the shirt as well once I can try it on!! Also... did you get these bracelets made??

[not-bcring]

"I already told you. I didn't steal your phone, so I don't have it," Seto called down as he heard footsteps approaching the tree he was lounging in, not even bothering to open his eyes. He probably should have, as he would've seen that the other was not the Aikido girl come to badger him about her missing phone. (First meeting between Seto and Shuichi, go!) - ✧ ˖ ˙ 「 @ɴɪᴄᴋᴇʟꜱᴅʀᴏᴄꜱ 」 ˙ ˖ ✧

「 ☆ 」 Shuichi is accustomed to being dragged into whatever mysteries— or more often ❛ squabbles ❜ —plague his classmates. Not that he minds it, mostly. It’s flattering they put so much trust into his skills, viewing him as their best chance of getting answers or justice. Being literally strong-armed into assisting Tenko with her phone problem is proof that she sees him as capable. Even if her comment about how she’d prefer to have Kyoko Kirigiri handling matters lessened the sentiment. As did the offhanded remark about how unfortunately, she could never force another girl to have to ❛ deal with that insufferable headache ❜ .

The headache in question apparently referring to the Ultimate Phantom Thief. A bit obvious of a suspect but Shuichi refuses to let himself be biased. Reality doesn’t follow the tropes of mystery novels, after all. Even if it can adhere to a surprising amount. Not willing to lean towards guilt OR innocence before he could gather all the facts, Shuichi had asked for all the relevant information Tenko could give in regards to her missing phone. No detail was too small.

❛ No detail ❜ ended up being the theme of the interrogation.

Eventually growing tired of his classmate’s repeated insistence that Seto was to blame and utter refusal to offer anything else, Shuichi had wearily thanked her for her… cooperation before going to find the only other lead he had. It wasn’t difficult to track down the notorious thief, onlookers more than happy to offer the last place they had seen him. It seemed like everyone was waiting with baited breath for his alleged reign of terror to catch up to him… Stuffing down the twinge of unease at how disappointed everyone would undoubtedly be if they knew he was looking for a statement and not confession— let alone retribution —Shuichi said his thanks yet again, before arriving at the tree.

Startled but honestly grateful at Seto breaking the silence before he was forced to, Shuichi makes a mental note on a the thief’s assumption as well as this body language. So, Tenko hadn’t been exaggerating about how she already prodded at Seto for the phone. Nor about how dismissive the other was... Interesting. Pulling down the brim of his hat, golden hues trail up the length of the trunk until they see a leg dangling over a branch. Easing his way a bit higher, he stops just shy of Seto’s face. Allowing the brim to obscure the theif, Shuichi knows that he’s losing valuable insight one can only get by observing someone’s face. But considering the low-stakes of the case— this is a missing phone not a murder investigation —he figures he can try to avoid unnecessary additional stressors.

❝ Actually, I’m here on behalf of Miss Tenko Chabashira. ❞ He begins, slipping into his professional demeanor. Tone steadier than it would be were this a casual visit, Shuichi gives a small, polite nod; still discreetly avoiding eye contact, his own face veiled by ebony bangs and his hat, ❝ My name is Shuichi Saihara, and I was hoping you could provide some insight on the Missing Phone Case. The information I currently have is... limited, and I was told you may be able to tell me more about the incident. ❞ Even if he can't or refuses to, Shuichi can still get a feel for whether he knows more than he's willing to let on. 「 ☆ 」

[crimsun-n-clover]

do you ever have one of those half-crushes where it’s like. you’re so attractive and have an incredible personality and are so great to be around. and if i think about it too much it will fester and suddenly whoopsie another crush on a friend. can’t do that shit anymore.

like we were friends in middle school and recently reconnected completely by chance. the day we reconnected, i was at an event where i knew i might try to start shit. two people who had severely hurt two of the people i love were in attendance and she was volunteering with concessions. we catch up, we’re still compatible, we get along great, and we’re talking about our current lives. she tells me she’s dating a guy who was mr. [our high school] and he kinda sounds like a dick. i’m joking like “LEAVE HIS ASS…. for me~” and she’s responding “honestly i should haha” wtf do i do now??? well i LEAVE like a PUSSY and go catch up with my friends to see if they’re alright being around people who hurt them. they’re not. so i kinda sorta whacked one of them.

my friends are grateful but also mortified. they leave early because they were miserable anyways. i go back to her once the guy i whacked sics his friends on me like “hide me hide me motherfucker had it coming i didn’t do anything unjustified” and she just goes with it. she was actually glad i did it and let me hide out in the concession booth for a bit. she keeps telling me “i love you, you’re the type of crazy i need in my life right now” and i’m just like (thumbs up) because i just hit the basketball captain and have the whole team looking for me. he gives up on me cooperating with their interrogation once they did find me, but keeps walking by the booth and staring at me. i opened the bottle of mustard sitting right next to her and poured like half of it in my mouth to unsettle him and he left.

she was so fucking hyped.

“THAT WAS INSANE OH MY GOD YOURE SO COOL ILYYY” and all that shit and i know damn well she isn’t straight so like,,, interesting.

and now we’re friends again.

so one time i was like “i’m by you so do you wanna meet up for lunch” and she’s saying “yeah ofc!! i’m just waiting on my bf to get here” so i show up and we start talking. by the time her bf gets there, i’ve already picked a fight with some old lady who was being a dick to me and have been working on convincing this girl to join our upcoming dungeons and dragons campaign. he sits down and we make eye contact.

the first thing my dumb ass says is “holy SHIT you’ve got weird eyes… THATS A COMPLIMENT. i mean it in like a david bowie way. i fuckin love bowie” and he turns to her like ???? and she tells him “oh they have TWO bowies on their battle jacket it’s a huge compliment” and he’s just like “oh alright cool” and offers me some of his food. when i tell you this man is a SAINT. putting up with my bullshit and teaming up on her with me. i usually disapprove of the boyfriends my friends have but i actually liked him.

it’s not like i want them to break up or anything. they’re great together. she’s just so. radiant. she actually laughs at and goes along with all the stupid shit i say and do, despite being not the type of person to do that herself.

and even when we don’t talk too regularly, i keep seeing her on dnd tuesdays as i’m walking to the school and she’s walking to the gym. every week i try to convince her to join us, but alas, the gym rat is too strong willed.

“pleaseee” “i can’t” “don’t you wanna join the campaign because you love me so much and you want me to be happy” “i do love you” “i’d be ETERNALLY INDEBTED TO YOU MILADY” “i have shit to do” “more important than little ol me? i’ll make your character sheet for you AND make your stats crazy bonkers high” “do you have any idea how disappointed my parents would be” “GOOD. when you finally push them over the edge you can live with me in my car. i already have blankets stocked up under the seats. and a stuffed cat. his name is clarence.” “i’d love that” “SEE” “is clarence stolen” “….” “oh my god”

like isn’t that kinda cute? chronically bitchless dungeon master trying to charm local dedicated gym rat into playing the nerd game and will actually give up a dice set from their hoard for her.

what a headline.

she’s carrying her workout bag and i’m holding fifty pounds of illustrated guide books BEGGING her to just follow me and watch me start fights between the players for “character development”

in yeehaw terms, i’m a bit sweet on her. a BIT. but as long as i keep my distance and don’t ask if her and her bf are still together it’ll be nothing. but if she joins my campaign? and i get to cast her as a paladin druid (at least that’s my suggestion)?? and she’s single???

i’m fucking HOPELESS. but those are crazy specific circumstances so like i’m probably alright.

[bluesky88diary]

Happiness never comes alone. There is always connections... Me with God, with nature around, with beloved, or merely moment. The photo I've made on Sep, 18 in mysterious way reflects another side of universe, where you dive in depth of blue. How could I know? Honestly, there is very little because of me, because I didn't know, but love knows everything.

The week was happy and easy. At my job I got very good position and even better coworker. One awesome guy who tries very hard to make every job done near perfection. Interesting what is his type of character, because it's pleasure to work with him. Yes, he is very demanding and sometimes annoying, asking me to do what I thing isn't necessarily at the moment, but I notice our types cooperate very well. However, I am please to work with this type, but also thought, what if my wife could have the similar character, and... Maybe it's ENTJ, need to ask him pass mbti test. Yet I don't feel myself comfortable with "E" types, they always push things too far. "We have to do this the best we can, and we have to do it right now", I might describe this person this way. But INFJ rarely rush thing forward, and even more I don't like to argue. By the way, his occupation was lawyer back in Ukraine, perhaps good one. Thus, at my job this goes better and better. But at very first opportunity to go full time videographer I will quit this job.

Back to my angel, beloved you. At the moment I saw you waving after turtle with cute fish on its back, I immediately remembered your code when you were waving to... I guess it was cute Mikey Mouse. And this created very cozy feeling connecting this episode that expose your sweet personality. I laterally felt myself as if near you. This was very warm moment. Thank you for sharing. Also that mysterious shark, I think is it any related to the photo I've made? I don't know, but could be interesting to find out.

You know, that you made upset yesterday? I don't know why guys subconsciously have this stupid spirit of competition with each other, but when I noticed you last follow I thought, "What is this about? Somebody is tried you charm you?" And this was sad thought. But then I did what I should do last summer, so I remembered each beautiful moment with you and said to myself, "This cannot be so, she is better than that. Merely grateful for support". However, you what to make me jealous, to bring some fire in our hearts? My baby wanna play? Because recent day I put most of my efforts and everything in work, so you might miss my love and affection. Maybe this way you try to bring it back. But men aren't multitasking, I can be good in everything at the same time. I work hard to make the way toward you possible. Don't you know? I love you so much, my dear Seungyeon.

Till my day I made myself a gift, collected all the professional gear I need for successful work as videographer. Heavenly blessings made this possible, providing me everything I needed for very low price and yet like new quality. Only wide angle prime lens and 3rd light left on my list. But it's very tempting for me as "I" to only collect gear and avoid the purpose, where I have to deal with people, look for clients and do all the business by myself. Sounds scarry, but not for the first time. Clear goal and love in my heart make things possible.

The last good news, today I was asked to lead Facebook page in my local church, makes photos, update spotlights each week, etc. Very good opportunity to practice and show up my skills. Yeah, Jesus takes care of me whenever I go. Very pleasant. And I always pray about you, so you can share my benefits too ^^

Up next our first anniversary. Are you ready? I wish it will be comfortable time together. Then Christmas. I wander what can be more thrilling than last one, such a sweet memory.

All my worries I trust in hands of Jesus and receive back his love, which I can share with my beloved angel, you!!

[cocobeanncteez]

ATEEZ Hongjoong: Tame (Part 1)

Genre: Fluff, angst, smut, mafia au.

Pairing: Mafia!Hongjoong x OC (written in 2nd person)

Word Count: 17k in total, 5k in this part. (Part 2, Part 3, Final Part)

Warnings for all parts combined: Mafia themes such as torture, abuse, violence, human auctions, murder, drugs, guns. Mentions of rape, human trafficking, sex slavery, organ trafficking. Unprotected sex (pulling out), facesitting.

Other than Ateez, all other names are fictional.

"Where have you brought me?" you questioned, looking up at your uncle in pure detestation when he pushed you into a dark room and took off your blindfold.

"Change into that dress quickly," he replied, ignoring your question, pointing to a red dress lying on a chair. "It's time for me to make some good money." He smirked, giving you a look before leaving you alone in the dimly lit room.

You don't know why your uncle had brought you here. Your father recently went missing and now you were certain your uncle was behind it.

You rarely saw your father since you lived with your uncle and his family. Your mother passed away when you were a newborn and you have no siblings.

You glanced at the red dress your uncle told you to wear. It was quite short and had a deep V-neck. You sighed as you quickly wore the dress, looking into the dirty and damaged full-length mirror to see how it looked on you.

A woman dressed in a similar dress came inside the room. "I'm getting sold too," she said softly, making your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"Sold? What do you mean?"

Before she could reply, two built men came into the room and grabbed you by the arms, forcefully dragging you out.

"Where are you taking me?!" you yelled, struggling to get your arms out of their strong grasp.

"Shut the fuck up if you don't want a bullet in your head," one the men said nonchalantly.

You could hear the familiar voice of your uncle and you assumed he was talking through a mic. You were thrown onto a stage, bright lights shining on you that blinded your vision.

Once your eyes adjusted to the light, you could see about a hundred people in the room, staring at you from head to toe.

"So who would like to buy this beauty?" your uncle yelled. All the men and even some of the women started yelling while raising their hands. You shivered, realizing that you were in some sort of human trafficking auction. Your eyes immediately teared up. How cruel could your uncle be? How cruel could all these people here be, selling humans like that?

You looked around, checking to see if there was any way to escape, but there were way too many guards, so you decided to go with the flow for now.

"We're starting from 50 million won," your uncle stated after the crowd calmed down.

You saw someone in the crowd raise a sign with their name and a number on it. "50 million!"

"70 million!"

"140 million!"

"250 million!"

"400 million!" a man yelled, causing everyone to keep quiet.

"400 million... going once, going—"

"500 million!" another man yelled. You could hear whispers all around you. You couldn't even believe how rich these people were, all their money obviously obtained through illegal means.

"500 million... Going once... going twice... sold!" your uncle said cheerfully and started clapping. "Congratulations, Mr. Byun! She's all yours!" 

-

Two of Mr. Byun's men took you away and made you sit in a black car while their boss made his payment. They were really handsome and dressed in suits. You were actually terrified, but you tried to act normal.

You saw a man with long hair and thick bushy eyebrows approach the car. He was wearing spectacles and had a thick moustache. He got into the car, looking at you as he sat beside you. You noticed that he had a gun in his pocket, making you wonder what exactly he does for a living, albeit you had a fair idea already.

"Start driving, Mingi," he said in a mellifluous voice to the red-haired man who was sitting in the driver's seat. Mingi nodded and started driving immediately while you kept quiet and looked outside the window, pondering about how you could escape.

"Take that shit off, hyung. It looks hideous on you," the other guy with blue hair said, grabbing your attention.

Mr. Byun took off his spectacles, fake moustache and eyebrows, and the wig. You didn't even realize that he was wearing a disguise before.

Your eyes widened when you saw him. His features were sharp and absolutely perfect. He looked like he was going to shoot for some fashion magazine. He seemed to be around your age; so did the other two guys.

You didn't realize that you were gawking at him until Mingi chuckled. "Someone is shocked." 

You blushed in embarrassment, instantly looking away.  You cleared your throat. "I was just wondering why Mr. Byun was wearing a disguise."

"Oh Byun is just a fake name he used," Mingi said. "His name is actually Hongjoong."

And that's when it hit you.

"Hongjoong? As in, Kim Hongjoong of Ateez?" you blurted out, making all the three men's eyes widen.

Hongjoong quickly reached under the car seat, pulling out handcuffs before swiftly handcuffing you. He took his tie off and used it as a blindfold for you.

-

Your hands were handcuffed to the armrest of a chair. You really hoped these guys weren't Ateez. But after seeing the other five men once they removed your blindfold, you knew it was really them: the eight most feared men in the crime world in the country.

You were so fucked; especially since you were in an interrogation room with an unconscious bleeding man in the corner.

"How do you know me? How do know Ateez?" Hongjoong asked coldly, a small hint of panic in his eyes. You regretted opening your mouth before.

You averted your gaze from the bleeding man. "I... overheard my uncle talk about you," you answered honestly.

"Hongjoong, let San take care of this," one of the taller guys with black curly hair said.

"No, Seonghwa, I've got this," Hongjoong said, his eyes not leaving you.

Seonghwa only rolled his eyes. "San."

Another guy with pink hair nodded before approaching you. Hongjoong sighed in frustration before moving to the side, letting San replace him. You could easily tell that Hongjoong had a short temper.

"I'm going to ask you a few questions so please cooperate," San said with a sweet smile, letting his dimples show. You would've melted for that smile if you didn't know that he was extremely dangerous. "So tell me, what is your name?"

"Kiah... Moon Kiah," you replied. 

"How old are you?"

"I'm 21."

"Who is your uncle who told you about us?"

You took a deep breath, already exhausting from the questioning. "Moon Younghyun." All the eight men look surprised.

"Your uncle sold you, his own niece, at a human auction?" Seonghwa asked with a frown and you nodded in response.

"That bastard," Mingi growled, surprising you. Why was he pissed about that? 

"What did your uncle tell you about us, Kiah?" San questioned.

You bit your lip nervously. "I can't tell you."

"Why not?" San asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Cause you'll shoot me or rape me to death due to how offensive it is," you mumbled. "And honestly, I'd rather not die that way." The boys were shocked at your sudden boldness, not expecting you to say that at all. Half of them looked offended.

"Excuse me, woman, we're not rapists," the guy with purple hair said, clearly offended.

You raised an eyebrow. "That's not what I heard." You were wondering where your sudden confidence came from when these men could literally kill you in a fraction of a second.

"Well, then what did you hear?" San asked. "Tell us and we'll honestly tell you what's true and what's not." You contemplated that; you had nothing to lose anyway if they choose to kill you.

"I heard that Ateez is a mafia gang engaged in mostly human trafficking, drug deals, raping and murdering innocent people."

The guy with light brown hair, who looked like a Greek God, cleared his throat. "Out of everything you said, only the drug deals were true."

You snorted. "And why would I believe you?"

"Well, why would you believe your uncle who just sold you?" he retorted.

"But you guys fucking bought me at a human auction!"

"Would you rather be bought by someone else who would actually treat you like a fucking sex slave?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. You kept quiet at that. "Believe me, Kiah, that's what the people there were for. They were all looking for sex slaves."

"Yeosang's right," San stated. "You should be grateful that we saved your life."

"What were you guys doing there then?" you questioned. "If you claim that you don't do all that, then why were you there in the first place?"

"Your uncle is our enemy. We had to see what he was up to," Yunho answered.

"Then why did you buy me?"

"You ask way too many questions," Hongjoong snapped in an annoyed tone, trying not to lose his temper completely.

"Joong, chill," Seonghwa said, making Hongjoong roll his eyes.

Mingi moved to stand in front of you. "I was the one who begged Hongjoong to adopt you," he said with a smile.

"Terrible decision," Hongjoong muttered under his breath.

You snorted. "Adopt?"

Mingi shrugged. "I don't like the word 'bought' so we're just going to say that."

You smiled a little at his words. "All right, Mingi, care to explain why you... adopted me?"

Mingi grinned. "Well, I've seen you a couple of times near your university’s hospital," he stated, making the guys look at him in surprise; they didn't know Mingi knew your face before. "And besides, you're beautiful. It would be such a waste if you were sold as a sex slave when you're so talented." Hongjoong gives Mingi a look that didn't go unnoticed by you.

You chuckled. "What makes you think I'm talented?"

"I've done my research," he said. "You're the only nursing student intern who is allowed to watch surgeries and help in minor ones."

"No wonder you wanted to adopt her," Yunho remarked.

You heard a groan behind you, coming from the bleeding man who just gained consciousness. You felt really bad for him.

"Don't worry about him," Yeosang said, noticing the concern in your eyes. "He deserved it."

"Why?" you murmured. "What did he do?"

"You wouldn't want to know," Seonghwa laughed before turning to one of the guys. "Remove the handcuffs, Jongho."

Jongho nodded and unlocked the handcuffs around your wrists with a key. You stretched your arms out in front of you, feeling a little free now.

"All right, I can go home..." you trailed off, realizing that you didn't have a home anymore. Your uncle would definitely sell you again if you went back there. Looks like you would have to crash at a friend's place.

"I'm afraid we can't let you go," Hongjoong stated.

Your eyes widened. "You're keeping me hostage?!"

"You know too much about us," San said with a small smile. "We're sorry."

You scoffed, getting up from the chair. "I refuse to be a fucking prisoner here in your dungeon!"

"Holy fuck, you're so tiny!" Yunho said in awe, stepping forward to tower over you. "I think I'm a foot taller than you! How cute!" he squealed. Was this guy really in the Mafia?

Before you could respond, Yunho lifted you up like a baby. "I'm gonna show you the house."

He carried you out of the interrogation room and up a flight of stairs until you reached a living room that could easily fit more than three hundred people. Your eyes widened at the sight of it; surely this was a joke, right?

You were in a luxurious mansion.

You glanced around in awe, noticing how one side of the living room had floor to ceiling windows, complemented with maroon and gold curtains. There was a large open-kitchen right next to the living room, and a wooden staircase on the other side where pictures adorned the wall. You wondered how many rooms were in this mansion and what the exterior looked like.

Yunho set you down on your feet. "You're free to move around the house, Kiah. We aren't going to lock you up," he said, chuckling at your stunned reaction.

"How many rooms does this place have?" you questioned while walking around the living room.

Wooyoung plopped himself on one of the sofas. "There's nine bedrooms, ten bathrooms, and six other rooms for different purposes."

"The guest room is still under renovation, so you will be sleeping in Hongjoong's room for the time being," Mingi informed. 

"What?!" You and Hongjoong yelled in unison.

"Not the bad temper guy of all people!" you whined, making all the guys except Hongjoong laugh. "Can't I sleep in your room instead?"

"You could," Mingi laughed. "But then my girlfriend would have my head."

"There's a woman in this house? Thank fucking goodness!" you sighed in relief.

Jongho chuckled. "There's three, actually. Well, now four."

"Where are they?" you questioned.

"Seonghwa's girl is on a mission so you'll see her next week," San replied. "I don't know where Mingi's girl is, and my girl is—"

"Hi!" you heard someone yell before running and pulling you into a tight hug. She pulled away and gave you a bright smile; you liked her already. "I'm Jiwoo!"

San chuckled at his girlfriend's actions before moving to wrap his arms around her waist. He kissed her forehead, making her smile. They were so cute! "This is my girlfriend, Jiwoo. Babe, this is Kiah."

"San and Jiwoo are the hyper couple here," Yunho stated. "They're both just so full of energy."

"We're going to be great friends, I'm sure of it!" Jiwoo said, making you smile.

Maybe living here wasn't going to be so bad after all.

-

Hongjoong's bedroom was huge. The walls were a penny brown and most of the decor was white and beige. There was a large TV right in front of the king sized bed. There was also a small flight of stairs leading down to a Jacuzzi that could fit six people in it.

You realized that you didn't have any clothes except for the red dress you were wearing right now. You didn't even have a phone anymore.

You heard footsteps behind you, making you turn to the source. A shirtless Hongjoong walked past you to the wardrobe, stripping until he was left only in his Calvin Klein hip briefs. You couldn't help but stare as he picked out some clothes to sleep in. You absentmindedly bit your lip when he wore his grey sweatpants and a black tank top. You quietly left the bathroom after washing your face, hoping he didn't notice you staring.

After several seconds, Hongjoong came into the bedroom, stretching his hands above his head. "You're gonna sleep in that?" he asked. 

You rolled your eyes. "I don't have anything else to sleep in."

Hongjoong sighed before heading back to the wardrobe, coming back with a plain white t-shirt. He tossed it to you and you went to the bathroom to change. His t-shirt smelled so pleasant, you couldn't stop inhaling the scent.

When you went back to the bedroom, Hongjoong was in deep thought. "You know," he started, looking at you from head to toe, secretly loving the way his t-shirt looked on your small form. "I just realized that you didn't really protest to live here."

You sat on his springy bed. "Well, I don't have anywhere else to go."

He scoffed. "Or maybe you just want to live here."

"I used to live with my uncle. If I had my own place, I wouldn't even spend a second here," you deadpanned.

"So you've never worked?" he asked. "Not even a part time job?"

"Do you think medical students have time for that?" you retorted.

"Whatever," he mumbled. "Looks like you'll get along with Yeosang and Seonghwa."

"What makes you think that?"

"They're Ateez's doctors,"  he stated. "Well, Yeosang mainly works as our hacker, but he's almost as skilled as Seonghwa.

There was some silence for a while until you spoke, "Are we even in Seoul right now?"

"We're at the outskirts," Hongjoong answered. "Gwanak-san, to be precise."

"Ah, near my university!" you said happily. "Actually, you know what?"

"What?"

"I can stay with a friend," you said. "He has an apartment right beside my university."

Hongjoong chuckled, but he clearly wasn't amused at all. "I'm afraid that's not possible, love." Your heart skipped a beat at the way he said 'love' but you ignored it.

You frowned. "Why not?"

"Well, you already know too much about us," he stated. "Besides, you've already entered the Mafia world. There's no going back."

Your blood boiled. "I don't give a fuck, Hongjoong. I didn't ask you to buy me and pull me into your stupid Mafia world!" your voice was rising. 

Hongjoong got annoyed at the way you raised your voice at him. "For your information, you got pulled into this world the second your uncle got involved in it! You lived with someone who's in the fucking Mafia!"

"At least my life was normal!" you retorted.

"You know what? Fine!" Hongjoong raised his voice, scaring you a little. "I'll personally drop you at your fucking uncle's house tomorrow, okay?!"

"You don't get to decide that and I'm not going back to that monster!"

"Then shut the fuck up and appreciate the shelter you've been given here goddammit!" Hongjoong runs a hand through his hair in frustration. You just keep quiet, looking away while your eyes filled with tears.

"Why the fuck did I even agree to buy a brat like you?" he murmured, but you heard him.

"Fuck yourself," you whispered.

In a flash, you were on your back, Hongjoong hovering above you.

"Don't you dare talk to me like that! You make me want to punish you so fucking bad," Hongjoong growled. Your heart was racing at how close he was.

"Get the fuck off me," you said, avoiding eye contact.

He grabbed your chin, making you look at him. "You piss me off so much, Moon Kiah."

You controlled the urge to roll your eyes. "Well, then tame your damn temper, Kim Hongjoong."

"Tame your attitude first, love," he chuckled bitterly before getting off of you. He lied on his back, looking up at the ceiling of his room. He clapped twice and the lights turn off, making the room pitch-black.

You bit your lip, wondering what to do. You couldn't stay here; you didn't even want to. You weren't meant for the Mafia world— you decided to get into the medical field so that you could save lives, not take them away.

You wanted to run away right now, even though it was half past midnight. But you needed a plan since you don't exactly know where you are were.

"I just realized," Hongjoong starts, smirking in the dark. "You haven't protested to sleeping on the same bed as me."

You snorted. "Why would I?"

"That's what girls usually do, don't they? And the guy will offer to take the couch instead of her."

"Well, I'm not like other girls," you stated. "I'd rather sleep on a bed than a couch outside, and I'm sure you'd prefer that as well. Besides, this is a king-sized bed. There's plenty of room for both of us. In fact, there's extra space cause you're tiny."

Hongjoong snorted. "Excuse me, I'm not tiny."

"You are."

"I'm more than half a foot taller than you, Kiah."

You shrugged. "Doesn't matter, tiny boy. You're still tinier than the other seven boys."

"But I lead them," Hongjoong said proudly with a smirk that you obviously couldn't see.

"What do you mean?" you questioned without thinking.

"Think, love," he answered.

You gave it a thought before your eyes widened in realization. "You're a... Mafia King."

He chuckled. "We actually use the term 'boss' but I like that," he said, pulling the blanket over your bodies.

"So the other seven boys follow your orders," it wasn't a question. You actually thought Seonghwa was the boss.

"Yup."

"I pity them," you murmured, but he heard you.

He scoffed. "You will be following my orders too," he said. "That's if we decide to make you one of us."

"Yeah... no, that's never gonna happen," you remarked. "I want to save lives, not take them away."

"Actually, you would want to take these lives away if you knew what these people do," he said, lying on his side to face you. "Ateez doesn't kill innocent people." You felt a little relieved at that; at least you knew you wouldn't die by a gunshot or something.

"And what do those people do that makes you want to kill them?" you questioned, turning onto your side as well so that you were facing him.

He snorted. "Do you really want to know?"

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't."

"We usually kill rapists and human traffickers. These people mostly target women and children. They kidnap children, rape them, and then sell their organs within the country or internationally. The women are usually sold as sex slaves or kept in prostitution centers. Some mafia gangs own strip clubs where their strippers get assaulted or raped by customers and they do nothing about it."

"Your uncle used to run a fake orphanage," Hongjoong continues. "I came across that place when I was fifteen years old and found out that they were keeping those kids there to sell their organs. I told my parents about it and we bombed that place after rescuing those children, and put them in an actual proper orphanage. Two boys who were just a year younger than me had escaped from the orphanage. They ran after my parents just to thank them for saving their lives. My parents saw a lot of potential in the two boys and decided to take them in. That's how Yeosang and Wooyoung became a part of my family."

The story really broke your heart; you couldn't even imagine what those two had to go through when they were just in their early teens. You were curious about the other six boys' stories too. You wanted to ask Hongjoong about it, but now didn't seem like the right time.

-

You don't really know how and when you fell asleep after hearing all those disturbing things, but somehow you did.

And when you woke up, you were in Hongjoong's arms.

You tried to escape from him, but his hold around you was too strong. You gave up on trying and chose to admire his beautiful face instead.

You had to admit, Hongjoong was extremely handsome. You've never seen anyone look this good while they're asleep. He looked so soft and angelic, you found it hard to believe that he was in the mafia, let alone a mafia boss.

You heard a knock on the bedroom door before the door opened, revealing San and Jiwoo.

"Hi!" Jiwoo greeted. "Good morning!" You wondered how she had so much energy in the morning.

"I see you've slept well," San commented with a smirk while gesturing at Hongjoong's arms around you.

You blushed. "Help me." San easily lifted Hongjoong's arm off of you.

"He sleeps like he's in coma," San said, making you chuckle while you stretched your arms.

"We're going shopping today," Jiwoo said to you. "You need clothes."

"I don't have any money, Jiwoo," you said.

She snorted. "You don't have to worry about that, we're paying for you."

You opened your mouth to protest, but San interrupted you. "We don't have any plans of letting you go, Kiah. Think of it as a gift for joining us." You just nodded in response even though you wanted to disagree. You weren't going to join a mafia gang; that was the last thing you wanted to do.

You had to escape.

-

You had just come back from shopping with Jiwoo, exhausted from walking around the mall; you were pretty sure that she made you spend more than ten million won.

"So Kiah," Yeosang starts, sitting on the sofa beside Mingi and Seonghwa. "You're a medical student, right?"

"Yup, majoring in nursing," you nodded. "Hongjoong told me that you and Seonghwa are the doctors of the gang."

"What were you planning to do after graduation?" Seonghwa asked. You didn't miss how he used 'were' instead of 'are.'

You gently cleared your throat. "Well, I want to become a surgical nurse for the cardiac department."

"Ah, that's great!" he said with a smile. "I wanted to get into Neuro."

"Why didn't you?" you asked while absentmindedly playing with a strand of your hair.

"Once you join the mafia, you have to sacrifice having a normal job," Yeosang replied nonchalantly. You couldn't tell if he was sad about it.

"I wanted to ask you all something," you murmured, but the three of them heard you clearly.

"You can ask us anything you want, Kiah," Mingi encouraged. "We'll answer everything."

"Well, if you're gonna keep me here..." you hesitated for a second. "Um, does that mean that I can't work?" Yeosang and Seonghwa exchanged a glance that didn't go unnoticed by you.

"You'll have to ask Hongjoong about that, but mostly yes. You won't be able to work," Seonghwa said. "It's too dangerous. You can only work for us." You only nodded, unhappy with the words you heard.  

"Can I at least attend my own graduation?" you were mentally begging they would agree.

"When is it?" Yeosang asked.

"It's on the day after tomorrow."

"Of course you can," Hongjoong said, entering the living room and plopping down on one of the sofas.

"Really?!" you squealed in excitement.

"I was being sarcastic," he stated, making your smile immediately falter.

"I didn't study my ass off for nothing, Hongjoong," you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

He scoffed. "Do you think I care?"

"Well, I do." You were starting to get angry. Yunho entered the living room, not saying anything due to the tense atmosphere.

"You'll put us and people you know at risk," Hongjoong shrugged.

"That's your problem," you remarked, pissing him off. "I didn't ask you to buy me, Hongjoong."

"Adopt," Mingi mumbled, but you ignored him.

You and Hongjoong were locked in a glaring contest. Yunho cleared his throat after a while, catching Hongjoong's and your attention. "Hyung, you disguised yourself. No one knows that it was you who bought her."

"Adopted," Mingi murmured, getting ignored again.

Hongjoong gave it a thought. "Fine," he agreed. "But we all will attend it too, whether you like it or not."

“Deal.”

You were seated in your respective seat, desperately waiting for the graduation ceremony to get over even though one of Seoul's top doctors was invited to talk. All eight boys and Jiwoo were attending your graduation. You wished your father was here to watch you graduate.

Once the ceremony was finally over and all the students collected their diplomas, you all gathered around to throw your dark blue caps in the air.

"I can't believe we successfully survived four entire years," Dongyoon remarked.

"Time to try to survive med school now," Yonghwa said and Chanhee nodded in agreement; they were on the road to becoming doctors. "But for now, let's get fucking wasted!"

-

You were at one of Seoul's best nightclubs in Gangnam; you didn't tell anyone in Ateez that you'd leave with your university friends. This was your way of running away. You were going to stay with Chanhee until you found a place.

Being a Tuesday night, the club wasn't crowded. Most of the people here were definitely high school or university students. After all, it was graduation week in Korea. 

You drank and danced with your friends until you were drunk as fuck and your feet hurt. You felt so relaxed, just paying attention to the blasting music while the alcohol in your system gave you some energy.

"Oh? Who do we have here?" you heard a familiar voice say behind you while you took another shot. You had no idea where your friends were.

You turned around and squinted to look at the man. "Moon Bojoon...?"

"Hello, sister," your cousin chuckled, putting his arms around your drunk form. You hated him with every fiber of your being— he tried to sexually assault you a couple of times. Living under the same roof as him was hell.

"Get your hands off me," you yelled over the loud music, weakly trying to push him away; he didn't even move an inch.

His grip around you tightened. "I wonder who father sold you to. How lenient are they to let their sex slave go out to party...? Or did you run away?"

You tried to push him away again. "Fuck off!"

He grabbed you by your arm and pulled you along until he reached the parking lot of the club. He pushed you harshly against his car, making you groan in pain when your head hit the window.

Bojoon moved his face closer to yours. "I'm gonna sell you this time," he whispered in your ear. "But I'll have my fun with you first, of course."

"Get away from me!" you yelled while your vision got blurry. Before you could comprehend what was even happening, you passed out.

[set-phasers-to-whump]

rebellion

apparently i am making a trend of writing one fic without any set characters every year for wij...anyway neither of these dudes has a name or like. anything going on but here they are...idk how this got so long lmao. but tbh i had a nice time writing it, hope you enjoy!

It’s the smallest act of rebellion that does him in. Up until that point, he’d been more or less cooperating, answering questions with what he’d hoped was a convincing blend of truth and lies. They’d barely even hit him, apparently satisfied with simply talking the answers out of him. 

And then they’d told him to give them a last name and an address. For a person he’d made up on the spot perhaps twenty minutes ago. 

He sits there stock-still for several seconds, and then it’s too late to answer. He’s sure if he says anything now they’ll know it’s a lie. So he shakes his head and keeps his mouth shut. 

“I said, last name and address. Now.”

The vague sense of panic that’s been thrumming through his veins since he was grabbed off the street and brought…wherever the hell it is that he is, spikes. He can’t think. Can’t answer. And honestly? He doesn’t want to. He’s sick and tired of this. He has no idea what these people are after, why they want him. Why should he cooperate?

He shakes his head. 

“Fine. Have it your way.”

A fist slams into his stomach and he doubles over as much as his restraints will allow. He groans and then the fist connects with the center of his face. His nose feels like it’s on fire and his eyes start to water and fuck, that hurts. 

The next punch is the hardest yet, delivered to the underside of his jaw. It makes his head snap backwards and it hurts and suddenly he’s not just afraid. He’s angry. 

There’s blood in his mouth. He doesn’t know when it got there. He spits it on the floor and grins with bloody teeth. 

“Name and address.”

“Fuck you.”

The punches keep coming. Over and over, head, chest, stomach, arms, even the legs once or twice. He can barely breathe for how much it hurts. He has no idea how much time passes, how many hits he takes, how many people are there with him. 

All he knows is the pain. He wishes he had answered. He wishes they’d ask him again so he can refuse to speak. So he can answer readily. He wishes he had the energy to spit the blood still filling his mouth at them. 

Mostly, he just wishes he hadn’t left his apartment today. 

There’s a loud clattering sound. He almost doesn’t hear it above the ringing in his ears and the sound of fists against skin. 

Everyone else has no trouble hearing it. There’s a sudden flurry of activity and then nobody is hurting him and he’d collapse in relief if he wasn’t tied up. 

Something strikes him over the head, harder than a fist and with a clang, and everything goes dark. 

--

He wakes up and someone is touching him. For a moment he panics and tries to get away, but then he realizes that this person isn’t hurting him. The hands are gentle and touching his wrists, his ankles. They’re untying him. 

He opens his eyes and finds himself in complete darkness. He wonders if he’s lost his vision somehow. 

He moves a little as the ropes around his wrists come undone and his arms shift back into their natural positions. 

“You awake?” someone asks. It’s not a voice he recognizes. 

He nods. There’s no response. Maybe it’s just dark in here. “Yeah,” he says, the word grating against his vocal cords. 

“You’re almost free. Just a couple seconds…”

The ropes around his ankles slide away. He immediately tries to stand, desperate to get out of this goddamn chair, but his legs buckle beneath him and he’s falling and then he’s not. 

Someone catches him around the middle and he hasn’t hit the ground but it hurts so much he might as well have. A noise that’s half whimper, half groan escapes him. 

“Sorry,” says the owner of the arms. “I know that hurts, but hitting the floor would’ve hurt worse.”

“Who’re you?” he asks, his voice no more than a whisper. 

“A friend.”

“I don’t…know you.”

“Enemy of my enemy, yeah?”

“Whose enemy?”

“Never mind. Come with me.”

Even with this guy’s arms around him, his legs are shaking. There’s no way he’s walking out of here. Besides, he thinks, given how bad he feels, perhaps an ambulance might be in order? 

“Can’t,” is how he chooses to convey this information. 

He hopes this will convince his…whoever this guy is…to do the reasonable thing and call for help, but all he gets is, “it’s alright, I’ve got you,” and before he has time to wonder what that means, he’s being picked up, really rather delicately, and then they’re moving. 

At first, he doesn’t even register that they’re outside. He’s half-conscious and everything is bouncing around and his eyes want to stay closed, anyway. But then he opens them and sees the moon above him, half-full and brilliantly white. 

He must lose consciousness for some amount of time, because he opens his eyes and doesn’t remember having closed them. He’s inside and it’s bright, almost painfully so. There’s something soft beneath him and a sort of rummaging noise coming from someplace he can’t see. 

He looks around as his eyes adjust to the light. He’s in an apartment, small and clean and cozy. There’s a small dining table with mismatched chairs and a new-looking TV and a coffee table laden with books and magazines and a lamp that looks like it belongs in his grandmother’s house. He’s in someone’s home. 

The someone in question is suddenly standing in front of him, and he gets his first view of his rescuer. 

The man is average height, brown hair and green eyes and a couple days’ worth of stubble. His gray t-shirt is spotted with blood and there are holes and grease stains on his jeans. There’s a frankly massive first aid kit in his arms and despite the severity of this situation, his face has a calm, though determined, look to it. 

“I'm gonna patch you up,” the man explains, and, well. He had been able to figure that one out on his own. 

“Why…no hospital?” he asks at last, even as he carefully drags himself up into a sitting position. 

“I’ll explain when you’re not bleeding on my couch.”

“Okay.”

“Try to relax, alright? This isn’t going to feel pleasant, but it’ll be better if you’re not freaked out. Not that I blame you for that. Just…trust me, okay?”

Weirdly, he does. He tries to relax as best as he can, and the patching up begins. 

The man’s hands are rough but sure, firm but gentle. One holds his face while the other dabs a cotton ball soaked in disinfectant against numerous cuts and scrapes. 

“Your nose isn’t broken, in case you were wondering. Just bloody. You’ve got the beginnings of a pretty intense black eye, though.”

He nods. Good news, he supposes. How in the hell has that become good news? he wonders, vaguely.

There’s a flashlight being shone in his eyes. He blinks hard, tries to look away. The hand on his face stops him.

“Just a second more, sorry.”

He stares into the light and feels his eyes begin to water.

“I don’t think you have a concussion. Let me know if your head starts to feel weird at all, okay?”

“Okay.” That he can do. He has had a concussion before, after all. He knows what it feels like. Somewhat shockingly, this doesn’t feel like that.

The hand leaves his face. He kind of wishes it had stayed. “Can you take off your shirt?”

Even before he tries to move his arms, he knows the answer. 

“Hope you’re not particularly attached to it, then.”

He isn’t, really. The other man swiftly cuts it away with a pair of scissors that are shockingly cold against his skin. 

He has no idea what his face looks like, but he can look down and see the injuries to his torso in all their glory. There’s a large, bleeding gash down his left side - and he has no idea where that came from - and he’s bruised to all hell everywhere else. 

It’s more painful when he looks at it. He looks away, flinches when a new cotton ball touches the bloody wound on his side. 

“I don’t think this needs stitches. It’s long, not deep.”

He nods. His head spins. He blinks to clear away the dizziness. 

“There’s not much else I can do, medically speaking. I’ve got painkillers and clean clothes and food and a bed.”

That’s…a slightly overwhelming list of things. First things first, though. 

“Painkillers sound great.”

“I thought they might. You allergic to anything?”

“No.”

“Be right back.”

The man disappears down a short hallway into what he assumes is the bathroom. He looks down at his torso again and forces himself to keep looking. 

It’s fairly awful. It hurts. He’s exhausted. Half of him wants to scream until he loses his voice. The other half wants to sob. 

The man comes back with a bottle of ibuprofen and a glass of water. He shakes two pills into his palm and hands them over. 

They feel horrible going down his throat, but the water feels wonderful. He drinks it all, nearly chokes on it. 

The glass is carefully pried from his hand. “I’ll get you some more. Want anything to eat with it? I’ve got tomato soup or frozen burritos or bagels or I can order something, whatever you want.”

“I’m…okay.”

“Suit yourself.” The man goes into the kitchen, which is half-visible from the couch. The window above the sink filters moonlight through a suncatcher. There’s a small plant beside the soap dispenser. Its pot is painted with polka dots. 

“I’m going to get you some clothes,” the man says, and his voice doesn’t sound like it’s coming from the kitchen. Because it’s not. Suddenly he’s there, glass of water in hand. He sets it down atop the coffee table, in easy reach, and goes back down the little hallway. 

He returns seconds later with a pile of clothes in his arms.

“We’re about the same size, so hopefully these will fit. I can help, if you need.”

There’s no point in refusing the help, not now. He nods once, and then a shirt is pulled over his head, impossibly soft. Together, they wriggle him out of his pants, exposing more bruises but thankfully no blood. The sweatpants are equally soft and a bit too long. They feel well-worn. They’re comfortable in a way that extends beyond the feeling of the fabric. 

“Why’re you…doing this?”

The man looks at him, almost surprised. 

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“You don’t even know me.”

“You were hurt. They were hurting you.”

“Why?” That’s the real question, isn’t it? Why had they taken him in the first place? What had he done, failed to do? Why him?

“I wish I could tell you. I’ll tell you everything I do know, later. Once you’ve gotten some sleep.”

He can’t argue against that. He’s never been this tired in his whole life. He moves to get comfortable on the couch, but is stopped with a hand to his shoulder. 

“This couch’ll hurt your back, trust me. You’ll take my bed.”

“No, I can’t -”

“You’re going to.”

The man picks him up and pulls him to his feet before he can say another word. He sways, but not as badly as before. Still, the man all but carries him into the bedroom, which is small but comfortable and distinctly belongs to someone. 

He can’t take this guy’s room. 

“I can’t take your room.”

“Of course you can.”

They stop beside the bed, and the man lets go of him with one arm to pull back the comforter. 

“It’s your bed.”

“And?”

And I’m a stranger you found bruised and bleeding and tied to a chair. And I probably got blood on your couch and definitely got it on your shirt and what if I bleed on your sheets, too? And you’ve shown me so much kindness even though you don’t know me at all and I don’t know what to do with that but I definitely can’t kick you out of your bed. 

All he says is, “the couch will hurt your back.”

“I’ll live.”

“I’ll take the couch.”

The man gives him a small push, and then he’s on the bed and it’s soft and warm and he can’t - he doesn’t know what to do with this, with this bed and these clothes and this man and this kindness. 

He doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the man sinks down onto the bed beside him and says, “hey, hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, are you okay?”

And he’s not, but he is, and it’s all just - it’s a lot, and he’s tired and more than a little delirious, and the next thing he knows he’s fairly sobbing and the man wraps his arms around him, so gentle it barely hurts, and he cries on this stranger’s shoulder until he falls asleep. 

--

When he wakes, hours later, there is soft sunlight peeking through the curtains and a warm presence behind him and a steady, sure hand wrapped loosely around his waist.

thanks for reading! i hope you liked this :) it was fun writing this but also a challenge bc i didn't want to give anyone a name but they're both dudes so i felt like it might be hard to tell who is who. hopefully that didn't make reading this too difficult tho. love ya and have a good night/whatever time of day it is!

[azalea-writes]

Mc takeing care of the brothers when there sick.

A/N: SORRY FOR MAKING YOU WAIT!

Masterlist

Requests: Open

Bit of a warning: Not proof read so there will be grammar mistakes, I finished this at night and I'm tired lol

MC taking care of the brothers when they're sick

Alt: Enjoy!

***

Lucifer

It would probably take some time for MC to figure out that Lucifer is sick.

Since Lucifer doesn't want anyone to know that he's vulnerable, he'll try to hide his sickness.

But he can only hide it for so long.

MC started seeing that Lucifer would be more tired than usual and started to have more headaches.

They quickly figured out he must be sick so they force him to rest.

It actually didn't take too long to make him rest, he felt too sick to fight back.

Lucifer may say that he doesn't like to be taken care of but he secretly does.

Doesn't ask for cuddles or kisses since he doesn't want to ask for much.

When he feels better, he'll give some gifts to MC to show his thanks.

Mammon

MC can quickly tell that Mammon is sick.

He stays in bed a lot which is unusual since he would probably be out gambling or buying expensive things.

Even if Mammon is sick, he doesn't want MC to take care of him.

Since he's the GREAT Mammon and can take care of himself!

He says while MC is giving him medicine...

Mammon does ask for cuddles but vaguely.

Maybe kisses... Just kidding! Unless...

When Mammon does get better, he'll start saying that MC should feel honored to take care of the GREAT Mammon.

When MC gives him a "just-thank-me-already" look, he'll quickly say thank you while blushing.

(He really does mean it though)

Leviathan

Something is off when Levi doesn't go extreme on a video game.

He kept on losing because of coughing breaks.

MC finally had enough and made Levi rest.

It took a while since Levi insisted that he's fine and can still play.

He finally laid in his tub when MC gave him a glare that sent chills down his spine.

Levi was flustered the whole time MC was taking care of him, it reminded him of one anime he watched.

Like Lucifer, Levi doesn't really ask for any cuddles or kisses, mostly because it's too embarrassing to ask.

After Levi gets better, he brings MC to an anime convention as a thank you gift!

Satan

MC probably noticed how Satan was sniffling and coughing a lot while reading with him in his room.

Satan lied and said yes, mostly because he wanted to finish his book and not wasting time taking care of himself.

He can recover without medicine. Right...?

Now Satan is being forced to lay down on his bed by MC.

Is not very happy with this but just give him a cat plushie and he's very happy.

Does ask for kisses on the forehead because he's taking full advantage of this.

After Satan gets better, he'll take MC on a date. Whatever they want to do!

They deserve it!

Asmodeus

Does not hide it. In fact, he'll be complaining ALL THE TIME.

"I feel so sick... If only there is someone to take care of me..." *looking at MC*

Wink wink, nudge nudge.

MC agrees to take care of Asmo but says no to dressing up as a doctor.

Asmo will request all sorts of things. Like, a manicure, massage, just self-care things.

OF COURSE asks for kisses and cuddles.

Taking full advantage to have more time with MC.

Asmo fully cooperates with MC, except with medicine...

When MC forces him to drink the medicine, he's complaining about the taste.

After Asmo gets better, he'll take MC to a spa has a thank you gift!

Beelzebub

Honestly, the signs are pretty clear.

Beel isn't eating a lot like usual which worries MC and everyone basically.

And he just doesn't appear like himself.

MC asks if Beel is alright, of course he says no and that he feels sick.

Very happy with the idea of MC taking care of him.

It's usually the other way around!

Beel is mostly the one who takes care of his family.

Doesn't really ask for a lot since he doesn't want to stress MC out.

Mostly just asks MC to be there with him which leads to cuddles.

After Beel feels better, he'll take MC to his favorite restaurant! Don't worry, he's paying.

Is really grateful that MC took care of him.

Belphegor

I feel like it would be a little hard to tell? Since Belphie sleeps a lot.

But MC will mostly figure it out when Belphie has, like, 3 blankets and says that it's very cold.

MC decides to take Belphie's temperature, even if he complains and insist he's fine but his temperature says otherwise.

Belphie mostly just lets MC do whatever, he may request for a fluffy pillow or a warmer blanket.

Will definitely ask for cuddles.

But he doesn't want to take his medicine...

So MC won't cuddle Belphie unless he takes his medicine.

He doesn't take it for a few minutes in protest but does in the end, he needs cuddles.

After he gets better, Belphie will take MC pillow and blanket shopping, his way of saying thank you.

***

I'M SORRY IF THIS ISN'T WHAT YOU WANTED

Alt: Thanks for requesting! Love you!

[kaunis-sielu]

October Challenge: 11

Flowers

Steve and Bucky have been bickering for over a half hour. It’s been one thing to the next and you’re kind of over it. You’re almost completely moved into the new house, which you’ve named Sunrise Valley to keep it and the Brownstone straight in your conversations. It’s just the little things left, a couple of missing furniture pieces, some new towels, and electric fence for Cooper who is struggling with staying close with all the space. The system you got didn’t shock, it just buzzed you couldn’t bring yourself to buy the kind that shocked.

When the doorbell rings you’re grateful for the distraction,

“I’ll get it.” You tell Steve when he glances at you. He goes back to his argument with Bucky, something about football honestly you don’t care at this point. You pull the door open and are pleased, but surprised to see Pietro on the doorstep. He’s got flowers in his hand that he passes to you.

“Pietro. Thank you.”

“Hey Fawn, is your Alpha here? I’d like to talk to him.”

“He is but so is Bucky.”

“Oh, um. That’s fine I guess get it over with.” He says with a small laugh, rubbing the back of his head.

“They won’t bite I promise.” You tell him grabbing his arm and pulling him into the house.

“Omega who is it?” Steve calls and you know he can’t place their scent.

“Someone here to see you.” You tell him leading Pietro into the living room. Steve is already on his feet when you round the corner.

“Who’s this?”

“I’m Pietro Maximoff, I wanted to talk to you about officially dating Becca.” Steve and Bucky share a glance and it’s not one you like. You step between Steve and Pietro.

“Steve. Play nice.”

“Play? Who said anything about playing?” Bucky growls as he too stands. Pietro shifts nervously behind you.

“James Barnes if you cannot be nice you can leave.” You snap and he growls at you. Steve turns on Bucky so fast you don’t even see it coming. Even Pietro moves you gently behind him.

“Excuse me Buck. What the fuck was that?” Steve snarls and Bucky has the good sense to look ashamed.

“I’m so sorry. Omega I’m sorry.” Bucky says looking down at the floor.

“Bucky, I think you’re close to your rut. Go stay at the Brownstone.” You tell him gently, Steve looks livid and Pietro seems ready for anything.

“But Becca?” He asks looking up at you from under his lashes in the most submissive act you’ve seen from him.

“I’ll be in touch with her to see what she’d like to do. Please go.” Bucky nods and with tight lips heads out of the house. It’s then that Steve turns back to you and Pietro and sees that Pietro has put himself between you and the danger.

“Omega.” Steve rumbles holding his hand out to you. You skirt around Pietro and take Steve’s hand. He pulls you into him then stares at Pietro before sitting down and guiding you into his lap. “Have a seat Beta.” Pietro sits and you give him an encouraging smile.

“First, thank you for protecting Fawn. Second, Bucky and Becca are like family to me. Why do you think you deserve to be Becca’s mate?”

“I don’t think I deserve it.” Pietro says softly, “I hope I’m worthy of it.” This is a new softer side of him that you haven’t seen before. He usually plays it more cocky. The doorbell rings and you give Steve’s hand a squeeze before he helps you up off his lap. When you get to the door you’re surprised by a delivery guy standing at the door. He’s got a vase with flowers in them in his hands.

“Hi. These are for Fawn.”

“Thank you.” You take them from him and close the door as he walks back to the truck. You set the vase down and open the card.

Sorry again.

Bucky

You put the flowers on the table and send him a quick text assuring him that there are no hard feelings. When you get back to the living room where Steve and Pietro have been talking you’re pleased to see that the tension is gone.

“Who was it?”

“Flower delivery from Bucky apologizing again.”

“As he should.” Steve says before standing. “Well, Pietro. I think we’re good here, you have my blessing.”

“Thank you Captain.” Pietro stands and shakes Steve’s hand then gives you a little smile before heading out.

“I told you he was a good one.” You tell Steve after your front door closes. Steve hums softly then glances at the table.

“Two bouquets from Bucky?”

“What?” You follow his gaze to the daisies from Pietro. “Oh, no the daisies are from Pietro. What convinced you to accept him?”

“I haven’t completely yet. Just given him permission to date Becca. If he wants to mate her and join the pack he’ll have to ask.”

“Okay well what convinced you to let him date Becca?”

“How he protected you from Bucky.”

“I was never in any danger from Bucky.”

“We know that but Pietro doesn’t.” Steve says with a smile, “I am a little mad though.”

“Why?”

“Two men gave you flowers before me.” You laugh softly,

“Sounds like you need to step up your game Rogers.” You tease he rolls his eyes at you before pulling you in for a kiss.

“Yea, yea.” He says with an eye roll and you laugh.

Within the hour four more bouquets show up. One card says stepping, the next says up, the third, my and the fourth game. When the doorbell rings the fifth time you glare over at a very nonchalant Steve. Sure enough it’s another bouquet, this one has a card that says. I fucking love you Honey. You put those on your desk in your office before joining Steve on the couch. You slip into his lap and press a kiss to his lips.

“I fucking love you too Steve.”

“Good. I hope you like the flowers.”

“I mean five bouquets is a bit excessive but they make the house smell amazing.”

“They do don’t they?” He says resting his hands on your thighs. “I promise to surprise you with flowers more often. Probably not five bouquets at a time but more often.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yea Honey I do. I know they make you happy and I’d be a pretty shitty Alpha if I didn’t do things that make you happy.”

“You make me happy Steve.” You tell him cupping his face. “I don’t need anything but you. And Cooper.” You add quickly and Steve laughs loudly.

“Us and Cooper, Honey. Sounds perfect to me.”

[aseioh]

Of Cakes and Late Celebrations

Author’s Notes: This was supposed to be posted on Mother's day. But just like this fic, I got derailed and ended up being late. (picture taken from the internet)

It was Mother's day.

Or to be precise it will be Mother's day in 15 hours 25 minutes. It shouldn't be a problem for Alcina, she usually just buys something from the Duke to give to Mother Miranda.

Unfortunately, such a thing is not possible right now. The Duke was delayed with his routine arrival at the castle opening, something about a spooked horse and lycans trying to get a nibble.

Honestly she lost interest after the word delayed was spoken through the phone. How is she going to remedy this. The gift itself was one of the finest silk she was able to obtain, she was sure Mother would appreciate a new ritual robe.

This is bad. To show up without a gift on this special day. She was sure she would be made a mockery during the gathering. Whats worst was that fool Heisenberg would be the first to lead with his pathetic insults.

Just the thought made Alcina's blood boil.

”I should send Bela to switch that man's shampoo with dog shampoo. Although the man still smells like wet dog. No. I'll think of something more devious.“

But back to the matter at hand. It's almost Mother's day and she doesn’t have a gift. Taking a deep drag off her cigarette, she considers her dwindling options.

At western part of the village

Donna is also facing a similar problems.

"What do you mean you're not coming?! Where am I supposed to find a present at this hour?!" Angie's raspy voice filtered through the phone "do you know how hard it is to find a 1st edition book on occult and rituals."

"Apologies Miss Angie, but the horse spooked and the carriage suffered a broken wheel. Even if the servants manage to haul themselves your house to the Duke's location and back it would still be too late." The main servant said trying to sound as apologetic as he can come across.

"This would not do" Donna said finally in her normal voice.

Somewhere inside the Stronghold.

Karl Heisenberg was having a meltdown.

"YOU STUPID LYCANS! I GAVE YOU ONE JOB AND YOU COULDN'T EVEN DO IT RIGHT!!" Heisenberg paces around the small assembly hall. Ten Lycans looked very apologetic, although it was very hard to tell from their looks. One even lets out a soft whimper.

“I told you to stall The Duke for a while. I didn’t said to derail him completely. The man has a package for me, now how am I supposed to get it!?” Heisenberg seethes.

His plan was a simply one really. Stall The Duke so that he would arrive at Castle Dimitrescu late, that way Alcina would not get her package and present it to Mother Miranda. That would show her, a little payback for calling him a child.

What he didn’t count on was the utter incapability of the Lycans to follow simple directions. Now even he doesn’t have a gift. Oh Miranda’s gonna blow a gasket.

“Augh... I hate the consequences of my actions” He lamented

 At Moreau’s Reservoir

“NOOOOOOO!! That’s not fair, that’s not fair!!!” Moreau starts throwing his stuff on the floor. He had finally saved up his money to buy Mother Miranda that nice jewelry that would go perfectly with her black wings.

“Someone’s gonna pay” He vows to take revenge on the Lycans responsible for his problem.

 After all his pet fish has been hungry for some Lycan meat.

 Castle Dimitrescu (13 hours until Mother’s day)

“I have gathered you here today for a very important meeting” Alcina starts looking at the sad (Donna) and tearful (Moreau) faces of her so called ‘siblings’. Heisenberg is surprisingly calm which puts Alcina on high alert, but lets it slide in favour of the more pressing matter

“We have a big problem. The Duke will not arrive on time for Mother’s Day. That means all the presents we bought for Mother will not arrive”

“We need a solution, any ideas?”  

“We kill the Lycans responsible and feed them to my fish”

“Yes Moreau, but that’s after we solve this problem” Donna said and tries to placate a Moreau by patting him at the back.

“Whoa, that’s a bit dark but I like it. And Moreau is right, we’re gonna make fish food out of those Lycans” “Better off those basdards, after all I don’t want to implicate myself” Heisenberg thinks

“People, you’re missing the point here” Alcina says pinching her nose to ward off an incoming headache. “Listen, we don’t have time. You know Mother Miranda, She’ll say she wasn’t really expecting something and then low-key punishes us for missing the day. We don’t want a repeat of the 1967 incident do we?”

Moreau whimpers from the trauma.

Donna goes into a slight trance and starts to shake.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough” Heisenberg stands. “Why don’t we just bake something and say it’s from all of us”

 *beat*

“Do you know how to bake?”

“I work at the Factory, I make steel molds for a living how hard could it be?”

“That doesn’t answer my question Heisenberg”

“We could make a small doll” Donna pipes up

“Sorry Donna that would still take time. And I don’t think we have the right materials on such short notice.” Alcina says

“For someone who’s looking for a solution you sure are shooting down all of them”

“Because it’s not feasible Heisenberg.” Alcina huffs “Can you gather all the materials in less than 10 hours? No? Of course not”

“And I keep telling you just BAKE A CAKE!”

“I don’t know how to bake, child! I’m a BLOODY COUNTESS not hired help” Alcina bellows at Heisenberg

“I know how to bake”

Everyone turns to Donna.

“Really?”

“Of course, I used to watch my Mother bake cakes before the accident. I just need help decorating. I never got a hang of that part” Donna beams with pride as she explains the basics of baking

“And we can gather the ingredients no problem. You have a pantry here somewhere right Alcina?” Moreau asked

“Of course. We always have a full pantry for the servants.” At that Heisenberg looks at Alcina with a hint of disbelief

“What? We need them healthy to serve us. I’m not a complete monster.” Alcina defends

“In any case we should start early. It takes time to cool and decorating is hard”

 Castle Kitchen (12 hours 30 minutes before Mother’s Day)

It was truly a sight to see. In a way it was enough for the Castle’s servants to wet themselves in fear when they saw the 4 Lords gathered at the kitchen in various forms of concentration. Needless to say, everyone was warned to steer clear of the kitchen for now.

Moreau was together with Donna supporting her with mixing the wet ingredients. Meanwhile, at the other side of the cooking station Alcina and Heisenberg are charge of measuring out the dry ingredients.

“You need to be precise, don’t put too much. Remember what Donna said and look at the damn recipe”

“I know what I’m doing you damn woman. I’m all about precision. Why don’t you move away and get that mixing bowl at the top shelf.” Heisenberg grouched

“I’m not your servant. And I certainly will not start fetching stuff for you” Alcina shot back

“Alcina, we need to work together. We don’t have time and you’re the tallest of us all. Please cooperate with Karl just this once. Please?” Donna implored

“Once. I’m helping him for this one time only. When I get my hands on the Lycan responsible for this problem, I’m gutting him and throwing him at Moreau’s reservoir.” At Donna’s admonishment of Alcina, Heisenberg gives a shit eating grin, showing some rather very pointy canines.

“And Heisenberg, stop provoking Alcina.” Donna adds

“Fine, you’re no fun Donna”

Suffice to say, the baking went well. Who knew that the 4 Lords working together would be a great success? If only Mother Miranda saw her children working together peacefully she might have had a heart attack and thought that she suffered one as well.

Or she might have been dreaming.

 Castle Kitchen (6 hours before Mother’s Day)

“Alright, the cake has cooled down completely, So what color will be the icing?” Donna asked

“Yellow” “Cream” “Light Blue” the other three said simultaneously.

 *beat*

“Light blue? Really? Not everything needs to be manly Heisenberg”

“And not everything needs to be boring like your color, Alcina”

“It should be yellow, like Mother’s sunny smile” Moreau explains

“And in which ever universe has Mother ever smiled like the sun?” Heisenberg counters Moreau

“Hey now. No need for that tone!”

“Tsk, sorry Moreau” Heisenberg apologizes to a quiet Moreau

“Fine, let’s do pastel yellow it’s easier for the eyes anyway” Donna supplies, getting ready to start coating the cake with the yellow cream

 Inside the Sanctuary

“Happy Mother’s day”

“We hope you like the cake Mother”

“Yes, we poured out our love in baking it. I hope you appreciate it” Heisenberg said

“Why thank you loves. This is a wonderful surprise. And Moreau said that you all worked together in baking it. How wonderful!” Mother Miranda said grateful for once that her children worked together without collateral damage (that she knew of).

“Although Heisenberg, I heard something interesting from Urias” Mother Miranda looks pointedly at Heisenberg, who for some reason starts to sweat and turn pale.

‘oh shit’ “Really Mother? Good news I hope” Heisenberg tries to bluff his way out.

“Why it was quite peculiar really. He said that you got 10 of his Lycans for a special project. I wasn’t aware that you have some side projects”

 The 3 Lords turn to Heisenberg

“Wait what?”

“I KNEW IT!!” Alcina unsheathes her claws

“You’re responsible for this mess in the first place!!”

“Really guy relax, if anything I just proved that we need more than one traveling merchant in the village for a successful and on time delivery” Heisenberg starts to carefully ease his way to the nearest exit.

 “GET HIM”

In the end, Alcina was more than ready to feed Heisenberg to Moreau’s pet fish. Only Donna stopped her, citing Moreau would probably be inconsolable if his pet got indigestion from all the metal.

And that is how Heisenberg saw himself in doggy jail for a week along with his Lycan cohorts. Mother Miranda did get her Mother’s day gifts from her children although a bit later than expected.

 And the cake?

 The cake was surprisingly delicious.

[laceymorganwrites]

Souvenir

Word count: 2,076

Pairing: Mikey x fem!reader

Warnings: swearing, corruption

Summary: You´re a police officer, a bad one. Or a terribly good one. Depends on which side of the law you stand. Mikey is interested in you, so are you but it can´t be that easy, can it?

A/N: happy birthday to this maniac

Song inspo: Souvenir by Avril Lavigne

THIS CONTAINS MANGA SPOILERS

It was a hot summer day, the sky was clear and the heat in the city unbearable. A vacation was definitely long overdue.

Your parents had a vacation home at the coast but they themselves were currently hiking in the mountains. You were against it, telling them to do something more relaxing, after all they weren´t the youngest anymore. It was always you who took care of them, that was how it was supposed to be, not the other way around.

However they didn´t see it that way, saying as long as they were alive they´d always support you and take care of you, you were all they had after all.

And yet they always said you were the one working too much. You really didn´t. You loved your job, but compared to everything they´ve done for you, everything they continued to give up to ensure you have the best life possible, it was nothing.

Of course you were grateful! How couldn´t you be? But it just always felt like it wasn´t enough, you wanted to do something for them too, yet you could never get the chance.

Being a police officer made your private and personal life very hard.

The reason you took this job was because you wanted to create a safer neighborhood for your parents. And you got so lucky, being just a regular officer taking care of small town thugs. Every time you hear about your colleagues working on taking down a gang, you shuddered.

They were the ones who lost their families first. Of course their work was noble and they were so brave but you just couldn´t bear the thought of losing your parents.

Sure, it was selfish, but they were all you had. What did you care whether some gang wreaked havoc in the city? Let them. You never cared about the city and its people anyway, never really having any friends that lasted.

However your station was assigned to take down the Bonten, every officer had to work on that, no matter what their job was before that. That really was the last thing you needed or wanted right now. And because you were you, you didn´t listen. You just kept doing your work, finding any excuses to go on a standard patrol, saying you´d look for their hideout or something. It was all bullshit.

“Fucking great… mom, dad, thanks for everything you did for me. If I don´t come home anymore, if you´ll never find my body: thank my idiot boss who thought it was a great idea to take out the most dangerous guys in town. Fuck him! Doesn´t he have a family he cares about? There´s an order in this city, he can´t just disrupt it, fucking asshole” you grumbled, a bad habit you had. Every time you were mad about something you had to say it out loud, though you didn´t care if people thought of you as the crazy lady who talked to herself. At least that way they stayed away.

You heard a small chuckle from one of the alleyways, turning around and laughing at the absurdity.

That, was how you met Mikey.

He wasn´t anything like you imagined and that made him scarier than anyone else you could ever dream of meeting. Something that surprised you was that he didn´t kill you on the spot, neither did he have his underlings do it somewhere else, a clean job like it was usual for them.

No, they kept you alive. More than that: they wanted you to cooperate with them. They knew you were on their side and wanted to keep them in the game so that your parents could live a peaceful life. So why should they kill you? Besides, Mikey always found that interesting. The fact that you, a normal citizen with the most boring job imaginable, you out of all people understood that the city needed Bonten to survive, to keep the peace. It was fascinating to him. Everyone else was still believing that gangs like theirs, ruthless criminal organizations, should be exterminated. But not you. You wanted to preserve them and had such a… stupidly admirable determination in your eyes.

Mikey couldn´t help but become infatuated with you. That was why he came to greet you personally, something he never did.

And that was how you started working together, you kept them updated on the investigation, got rid of some proof and evidence and nobody suspected a thing. You were so incompetent at this kind of work that it just worked. You were doing such a good job for them, it left Mikey speechless and actually for the first time in a long time did he feel something else than utter numbness. He liked watching you work, finding it so funny how you deceived everyone around you, you were just as ruthless as him.

But there was a difference between the two of you that kept him looking and coming your way: you did it out of kindness. You were a genuinely kind person, even to him, sometimes he hoped especially to him.

He didn´t like the thought of distractions like yourself but then again he was the boss, he could do whatever he wanted. He was still invincible.

Now the only question was: how did you go about having a crush? He never gave it much thought, you were different than the women he used for a distraction. He wanted to get to know you, but didn´t know how. That wasn´t something he could get as easily as everything else. But that just made it so much more fun to him.

You were so integrated in his life and in the gang by now that he asked you to be an official member, still working at the police station to help them out.

Of course you said yes. You weren´t stupid, this was the easiest and best decision in your life.

Now you were sure that your parents were safe, as if the Bonten would kill their own. Well they did, but only the traitors.

And you´d never be one, they knew that. Even the most skeptical ones out of the lot trusted you by now.

Mikey was… special to say the least. He was a ruthless leader like everyone told you but nobody told you about the broken parts, nobody told you that he covered up all of his pain and hurt with sleepless nights and bloody murder. Though their murder was anything but bloody, it was clean and calculated.

You liked it that way. It was even more cruel and very thought out. Still, he needed a break and everyone could tell. Of course nobody dared to say anything. Never defy me, that was the sole rule everything was based on.

Protect the king.

Especially Sanzu was loyal to him, not that the others weren´t but he was very suspicious towards you. That was why you stayed away from him, no matter what you said or did he always thought you were a spy and honestly if it weren´t for the others you were sure you´d be dead by now.

The only reason you weren´t was because Mikey told him explicitly not to.

To this day you wondered why that was. But you´d find out soon enough.

This morning Mikey told you that you´d be the one to dispose of any proof with him this time.

Which basically meant going to a vacation home as an alibi, it was near the port and in this time a lot of students were there too since it were holidays too.

Somehow the thought of being alone with Mikey excited you more than it should, it was dangerous, you knew that.

And even so…. Or maybe precisely because of that, you fell in love with him.

There was something about the unreachable nature of him, people couldn´t help but keep looking at the burning building collapsing. Your presence was the gasoline.

“I came here often as a kid” he explained when you two arrived at the house. It was in the woods, but still close to the beach and port. Perfect to get rid of proof.

You didn´t expect him to talk to you, least of all about private things. Then again maybe he just needed someone to talk to, someone who saw him as Manjiro and not the coldblooded gang leader.

Some would say you had a savior complex and maybe they were right but what was so wrong about feeling special when you were with him? About him sharing things with you he didn´t share with anyone else?

“Sometimes I wonder where it all went wrong…” he sighed, a sad smile on his face. You could tell how hard it was for him to even do that. It was tragic, really. But then again he had it coming.

Mikey wanted the world and he got it. Mikey was ruthless and always got his way, he didn´t care about anything else but power and bloodshed. There was this darkness inside of him that was consuming the little pieces that were still left of Manjiro.

“Would you change it if you could?” you asked, eyes grazing his slightly.

“Well I can´t so there´s no use talking about it” he mumbled, his eyes wandering to the surface your hand was resting upon.

Yours was so different than his… so soft and clean, so fragile.

His was calloused, had seen more blood than human warmth and was always cold because who would voluntarily touch it?

You.

His heart jumped slightly as he felt your fingers entangled with his own. This sensation was so foreign to him, he couldn´t help but smile slightly.

You made him do things he hasn´t in ages, smile and feel for instance.

“Sometimes I wish I could stay here forever” he mumbled, looking down.

He looked so tired, he always looked so tired. You wondered if he ever slept. Though you highly doubted it.

“Staying a day more wouldn´t hurt, right? I mean you have to be here once a year anyway, why not stay the night?” you suggested. Mikey smiled sadly, he could do it… he was the boss after all. But he feared that if he did he would never want to leave again. And then he wouldn´t.

“Hm...I guess you´re right...I knew it would be a good choice to have you work with us” he smiled slightly but there was his usual sadness and tiredness in it. You smiled back at him, shutting your brain off for a moment to wrap your arms around him and pull him into a tight hug. Because right now, all the other times, he just looked like he needed one.

And you were right, by the way he held onto you, the way he relaxed into your touch. He really needed this. It were moments like these were he wished that he could stay like this forever and just not go back to his life. But he chose this life and he won. He made it to the top. But as clichee as it sounded, that was also where it was the most lonely. If you weren´t there beside him he´d have given up on himself a while ago.

The darkness was so easy to control around you.

You smiled at him, going back inside and getting the job done.

The next day felt like you were in a different world. It felt like a normal holiday you both knew as children and never ever had since then. You two would eat together, watch the sunrise together, even play in the ocean a bit.

Mikey even gave you his shirt when you were cold.

“Keep it” he told you when you were packing away everything, the day was over faster than any of you liked. But it also felt like an eternity, like you could truly escape from everything.

“As a promise. Meet me here this time next year, no matter what happens, okay?” he asked, he had a gentleness in his voice that you didn´t recognize, but it must´ve been there all his life. The cruelness just suppressed it all the time.

“Okay, it´s a promise” you smiled, taking his shirt and putting it in your bag so that the others wouldn´t see. For now everything would return to normal, whatever it was that you two had would have to happen in secret, in your sanctuary.

[lalainajanes]

For klarosummerbingo, my “mango lassi” square! Did I order Indian food for dinner? Yes, yes I did.

Masks Off

When she notices the goon tailing her – shaved head, seasonally inappropriate leather jacket, neck tattoos – Caroline’s pissed off.

And exhausted.

She’d spent all day cooped up in the boardroom at Forbes Industries, listening to men twice her age complain about dividends and try to suggest that workers didn’t really need a raise subtly.

It had been a tedious and pointless exercise, one she suffers quarterly. Caroline holds 51% of the company’s shares and can easily wrangle another block of shareholders into voting with her. Her parent’s wills, read out fourteen years ago, had bequeathed a stake in FI to several loyal employees. People they’d loved, who’d stepped in to help raise Caroline after they’d passed.

The board knows she has the final say, and it kills them. They think she’s an idiot, that she’d bought her degrees and can’t comprehend the financial statements. They try to ply her with compliments and flattery, attempt unsubtle fibs – Caroline plays dumb and tolerates the bullshit because she knows she can control them. Another board might not be so easy to manipulate.

She’d had a headache by the time the meeting had wrapped, had been so grateful to see Enzo waiting at the curb. She’d practically dived into the backseat of the town car, had rolled the partition down, and enjoyed a satisfying debrief and bitch session on the drive back to her apartment. Enzo had offered to grab her dinner before he went off the clock, but Caroline knew he had a date night planned. She’d shoed him away, told him she’d order in.

Once safely tucked away in her place Caroline had gotten restless.

She’d changed out of her boring suit, pulled out the pins in her hair, and loosely braided it back. After changing into a pale blue cotton dress and pair of oversized sunglasses, then selecting a few Forbes Industries prototypes, Caroline had headed out for sustenance.

She hadn’t bothered to let her security detail know. She’s adept at sneaking away under their noses. The detail is mostly for show, to make sure no one connects Caroline Forbes, wild child heiress, to the vigilante who’s working on tidying up the city streets.

She’ll slip into the leather ensemble she’d commissioned once night falls and load up with weapons. Then she’ll head to the garage where she keeps her armored vehicles and larger toys.

There’s a new villain who’s been popping up more and more frequently on her patrols. She hasn’t caught him doing anything untoward just yet, and he’s yet to make the papers and have a ridiculous name bestowed upon him. She’s scoured papers from England, then the rest of Europe, checking to see if there was a reputation that preceded him. So far, she’s found nothing, but  Caroline knows he must be working on something big.

Why else would he be so determined to attract her attention? He must have some kind of plan cooking up, wants her looking in another direction when he enacts it.

The walk to the restaurant had been uneventful. Caroline had to wait a few minutes for her order to be ready, but passing the time on a bench outside, unnoticed, her people-watching undisturbed, had been a nice change from how she’d spent the rest of the day.

It promised to be a hot evening, even though the sun would be setting shortly. Sweat had begun gathering near her hairline, forcing curls out of her braid. Caroline had added a mango lassi to her order and collected her dinner, inhaled appreciatively at the warm, spicy scent emanating from the paper bag.

She’d begun her walk home, sipping her drink contentedly, weaving through the growing number of pedestrians who were venturing out for the evening.

She’d noted the guy shadowing her about three blocks from her building, had heaved a dramatic sigh that had the guy waiting for the walk light with her edging away.

She’d just wanted to stuff herself with naan, biryani, and saag paneer and become one with her couch for a few hours before she went out to take out her frustrations on some bad guys. Was that too much to ask?

Caroline takes a turn, heading east to where there should be fewer people, reaching into her bag to slide her fingers into the modified brass knuckles (not actually brass but a proprietary FI compound) and grasping the extendable baton.

She takes another turn to check that she’s not paranoid, but the goon mirrors it.

As does another person.

Caroline pretends to adjust the strap of her dress, twisting her head to get a better look at her second pursuer. It’s an impressively muscular woman, her considerable height only enhanced by her spiked hair, dressed in skin-tight shorts and a mesh crop top.

She doesn’t seem to mind that Caroline’s spotted her, wiggling her fingers and offering a challenging smile.

There are two possibilities. Either the people following her are cocky and stupid – really the ideal scenario – or they’re cocky because they’ve got a solid plan and some big guns.

When a hand grabs her upper arm and yanks her into an alley, spilling the mango lassi and staining her dress, Caroline suspects it might be the latter. She’s thrown against a wall, just managing to get her hands up to save her face from being smashed into the brick.

She hears footsteps pounding against concrete, and the two pursuers she’s noticed join the man who’d yanked her into the alley. Regretfully, Caroline drops her takeout and her bag and backs away, hiding her weapons in the folds out of the skirt. She forces a quaver into her voice, “What do you want?”

It’s unlikely that three people who seem to have stepped right out of the goon for hire catalog have just decided to rob her. Caroline doesn’t want to assume there’s a larger plot. She’s hoping this won’t turn into a big thing, and she’s out of luck if people are planning to kidnap Caroline Forbes for ransom.

But it’ll be even messier if a bad guy’s clocked her extracurricular activities.

The spiky-haired woman takes the lead, stalking towards Caroline. She’s got a knife in her hand now, “What do I want? Twenty million dollars, to start with.”

Oh good. It’s just a kidnapping.

Honestly, kind of an insulting one. She won’t even have to liquate any assets to come up with the twenty million. Caroline stops moving, straightens her spine. “Done!” she chirps brightly. “Wire transfer, or cheque? I can do cash too, but that’s like ten briefcases. What are you going to do with them after?”

She’s been hoping to catch her attempted kidnapper off guard, but the woman doesn’t falter. She snorts, “You’re funny. I didn’t expect that.”

“Thanks, I get that a lot. I’m chock full of surprises.”

Spike lunges forward, and Caroline dodges, stepping past her and whipping her arm out, until her weapon lengthens fully. She crouches, extending her leg and spinning while slashing with her baton. Caroline lands a brutal strike on Spike’s kidneys. Spikes grunts, stumbles forward, arm banding over her stomach protectively. Caroline completes her spin and rises, catching Spike with a punch before she pauses, poised on the balls of her feet, back to a wall.

Her would-be kidnappers no longer look as confident. Spikes spits blood, expression enraged. The other two watch Caroline with calculative gazes.

“Girls gotta keep in shape, right? The tabloids are brutal. It turns out the elliptical is super boring, so I had to find something a little more fun.” Caroline leaps forward, tucking into a roll, snagging a brick from the ground and using her momentum to throw it into Leather Jacket’s face.

The brick makes contact with a gross crunch of blood, bone, tissue, and teeth. Leather Jacket howls, his hand coming up to cover his head. She jumps again, thighs locking around his neck, spinning to bring him to the ground. She digs her knee into his spine, gripping his head and slamming it into the ground for good measure until he goes limp underneath her.

Caroline stands, wiping her hand on her already ruined dress. “One down,” she says.

Only to instantly regret the proclamation. Bonnie says she needs to lay off on the monologuing, and maybe she’s got a point.

She senses movement behind her, near the mouth of the alley. Caroline turns warily, head swiveling between her two attackers and the men who are now freaking rappelling from the rooftops. Six of them. In black tactical gear, strapped with weapons and wearing black ski masks.

Well, crap.

If she’d been on patrol, with her protective suit and gadgets, she might have been able to take them. Now, in flats and a sundress, with two flimsy weapons and no backup, she doesn’t like her odds.

Caroline tosses the baton aside, pastes on the smile she uses when she has to ignore paparazzi shouting rude questions about her sex life at her. She lifts her hands slowly, palms open. “So, I’m guessing you don’t only want cash, huh?”

“Funny and smart,” Spikes says spitefully, coming up behind Caroline and yanking her hair. “What a rosy life you must lead.”

She feels a sharp sting in the side of her neck, then a flood of wooziness. Brief pain when she collapses.

She’s vaguely aware of being heaved up and over someone’s shoulder, of being alarmed by how her limbs won’t cooperate when she tries to fight back. She’s tossed in a trunk, encased in blackness.

Caroline fights it, the tiredness, her thoughts growing meandering and disorganized. When the engine rumbles to life underneath her, Caroline loses consciousness.

* * * * *

Caroline realizes she’s tied to a chair as soon as awareness returns.

She can hear voices murmuring, too soft for her to make out any words even when she strains. Caroline’s slumped over, pulling against the ropes. She’s definitely going to have some fun bruises tomorrow. Her head’s resting limply against her chest, and she stays as still as she can, barely opening her eyes while trying to get a good look at her surroundings.

Unfortunately, she seems to be in a pretty generic warehouse—grimy, smelly, cavernous, decorated with random overlapping graffiti.

She spots a tray of shiny, sharp medical instruments to her right.

Which is not ideal.

Caroline tests her bonds slowly, checking for any give or weakness. Any kind of opportunity. One of her captors has eagle eyes and notices her movements. She flinches when his voice booms out, “Sleeping beauty awakes!”

Damn it.

Caroline lifts her head, rolling her neck to work out the cramp that’s developed. “I prefer the modern Disney princesses, thank you.” She’s not the type to wait around for a handsome prince to come to her rescue.

She studies the guy who’d spoken. He’s got steel-grey hair and tanned skin, thick biceps. His face doesn’t show even a hint of emotion, and he doesn’t acknowledge she’d spoken. She’d guess he’s a pro, probably some variety of ex-military, likely expensive. Caroline hears the clomp of heavy boots and twists her head to see some familiar faces joining the party.

Moderately damaged familiar faces, but she’s not sorry about that.

“So about that ransom,” Caroline begins hopefully. “Twenty-five million, was it?”

The guy who’d taken a brick to the face grunts, “Thirty now. For our trouble.”

Caroline can admit that’s fair.

“I get it. Plastic surgery’s not cheap. Not that I’ve had any work done, despite what the tabloids might claim. I’m only twenty-seven. Of course my boobs look fantastic in a bikini.”

No one even cracks a smile.

“Okay, so you’re not interested in jokes. We could discuss the fact that it’s super gross that people follow me around the world and stalk me with long-lens cameras. Am I not entitled to take a vacation?”

No response.

Caroline sighs, shifting in her chair in an attempt to get more comfortable. “Tough crowd.”

Spike drags a second chair over, sitting down and resting a booted foot on her opposite knee. “Thirty million dollars. I have a list of six prisoners that I need to be released from the Super Max. And I want something from the Forbes Industries Vault. The subterranean one that most of your employees don’t know about.”

Caroline tips her head back, considering. Thirty million dollars, no big deal. The prisoners might be hard to arrange, but she’s got connections. She knows exactly who she’d need to bribe. She can always scoop them up later, wrap ‘em in a pretty little bow and leave them on the steps of city hall.

The Vault though? That’s not happening. She’s going to have to figure out how they even know about it, who else might have bought the info, but that’s a problem for later.

“How about fifty million dollars and a couple of extra prisoners? Maybe someone from the asylum?”

Spike leans over, her hand drifting over the tray of instruments. She plucks up one with a serrated edge, twirling it through her fingers. “I know you’re used to snapping your fingers and getting everything your little heart desires, but this isn’t a negotiation.”

She leans forward, resting the blade against the dip between Caroline’s collarbones. She taps it against Caroline’s skin with each carefully enunciated word, “Money. Prisoners. Vault.” She pulls back, gives the instrument another spin. “That’s my only offer. You can say yes, and we’ll give you a phone, so you’re servants can start arranging things. Or, we can do this the hard way.”

She doesn’t insult Caroline’s intelligence by spelling out what the hard way would entail.

Caroline swallows, straightens her spine. “No one gets in my vault.”

Spike sighs in faux disappointment, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. “The hard way it is, then.”

Caroline closes her eyes, holds her breath, waits for the first cut to come.

It doesn’t come from where she’d expected.

Glass shatters from high above, showering down, leaving dozens of tiny nicks across her bare shoulders. She feels a rush of air before a body landing in front of her, knees bent.

A familiar man, one who’s been taking up way too much of Caroline’s free time, smirks at her, “Hello, love.”

Caroline gapes at him, and he pivots, backing up until her bent knees brush the back of his calves. She sees few bright flashes, but his back obscures her view of what’s happening. Whatever he’s doing, it’s painfully loud. Popping sounds interrupt shouts and screams of pain, and heavy thuds ring out. Caroline cringes, tucking her ear against her shoulder in an attempt to muffle the cacophony.

Silence, when it comes, scant moments after the chaos began, is jarring. Caroline leans as far to the side as she can, eyes widening when she spots the pile of bodies. She watches as the man, who she doesn’t know if she can call her rescuer since at this point he might also be planning on ransoming her, yanks a handful of zip cuffs from his pocket.

He moves swiftly and with grace, seemingly very at home his body and aware of its capabilities. Caroline’s eyes narrow, mind whirling as he secures her attackers, and she tries to assimilate this new information. He pulls off his leather gloves when he’s done, returning to her side. His expression grows regretful, and his fingertips brush her shoulders, skimming over the cuts and scrapes there. “Sorry about these. The skylight was the best entry point. Make sure you clean them up, hmm?”

He steps passed her, and Caroline feels him make quick work of her handcuffs. She hears the snick of a knife unsheathing and stiffens, but he only uses it on the ropes that bind her legs and torso. Caroline shakes them off, stands hesitantly.

“Okay,” she says, crossing her arms and turning until they’re once more face to face, separated by the metal chair. “What exactly is happening here? Who are you?”

“I’m afraid I’m not yet ready for you to know my identity. In due time, I promise.”

Caroline sucks in a sharp breath, her teeth grinding together. “Um, how about no?”

He blinks, and Caroline steps a little closer. They’ve always met in the dark, and he’d purposely stuck to the shadows as he’d teased and tossed questions at her. She’s never been this close to him. His eyes are blue, his lashes annoyingly long in a way men never appropriately appreciate. He wears a black mask, covering from the top of his forehead to his upper lip. His hair is slicked back, but she thinks it might be on the lighter side, given the shade of his stubble.

He clears his throat and shifts his weight, but he doesn’t step back or shy away. “I… I beg your pardon?”

“I have had a garbage day. It was long, it was boring, I had to argue over things I know I’m right about, with people who think I’m a bimbo and spend way too much time trying to look down my tops. My dinner got tossed aside when goons r us scooped me up. I love this dress, and it’s ruined. I’m bleeding. I don’t know where my shoes are. I’m hungry, I’m tired, and I want to go home!” she’s shouting when she’s done ranting, out of breath.

“Right.” Her rescuer, she’s decided on the term now, shoves the chair aside. He steps forward until his feet bracket hers, wraps his arm around her waist. Caroline grips his biceps, too shocked to admonish this rude invasion of her space. “Hold on. Step up onto my feet.”

She throws her hands up in frustration, “Hello? Did anything I just said sink in?”

His lips, which she’s now noticing are very nice, full and soft looking, compress. She’s pretty sure he’s trying to swallow a laugh. “I heard every word. I’m trying to assist in getting you home. In service of that, if you could please step up onto my feet and hold on.”

His right arm rises, and Caroline recognizes the device in his hand. She’s about to ask him if he’s seriously rescuing her with a device he’d stolen from her but thinks better of it.

He’d stolen the grappling hook from a vigilante who rocks a rose pink leather catsuit, not from Caroline Forbes. It would have been a monster slip, a true testament to how rattled she is from the day’s events that she’d almost blurted out her secret identity to a guy with questionable motives and an unknown name.

Instead, she smiles tightly, loops her arms around his neck, and gingerly steps onto his heavy boots. “For future reference,” she says sweetly, “I generally only like following orders in the bedroom.”

The strangled choking noise he makes as they hurtle upward is immensely satisfying.

* * * * *

Two days later, Caroline’s on her couch watching news footage of a gala she’d been supposed to attend. She’d had a great dress, red and scandalous, all ready to go, but trying to cover her scabby shoulders with makeup had made her look like she’d contracted some kind of infectious skin issue.

She’d sent her regrets and a fat check, resigned herself to a solo evening in her comfy sweats. On her TV, a society reporter’s chattering away about the guest she’d just finished talking to, a lech who’s at least smart enough to hire a publicist good enough to hide his dealings with loan sharks. She trails off in the middle of a sentence, fingertips coming up to press at her earpiece.

The reporter looks right at the camera, excitement on her face. “I’ve just been given some breaking news! A surprise guest has arrived, all the way from the UK. Klaus Mikaelson has shied away from public life since his messy exit from his father’s corporation five years ago. He’s built his own tech firm from the ground up. Buzz had been building since they announced their intention to go public. Let’s see if we can get a few words.”

Bored with the fawning, Caroline’s just about to switch channels. She knows all about Klaus’ Mikaelson’s company. Blurbs about it have been showing up in the intelligence reports she has complied since he’d lured a pair of promising engineers from FI’s Paris offices.

She’s planning on investing in his IPO because he might have scummy HR policies, but his business is sound.

There haven’t been many pictures of him available; apparently, he’d hardly been a social butterfly even when he’d been welcome in the family fold. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen or so in the ones Caroline’s seen, in which he’d been gangly and angular and sporting a terrible haircut.

The image changes, swinging to the red carpet before Caroline can grab the remote. She pauses, impressed because Klaus Mikaelson has grown up nicely. She might be distracted by the flawless fit of his tux, which Caroline knows can cover a world of sins, so she leans closer as the camera pans up to his face.

And promptly drops her wine class.

The blue eyes. That smile, the dimple it carves into his stubbled cheek. She’d brushed her lips over that cheek barely more than forty-eight hours ago when she’d thanked him for what he’d done for her.

Klaus Mikaelson had accompanied her home the other night, had neatly deflected her probing questions, his amusement never turning to exasperation at Caroline’s dogged persistence.

She’d seriously considered inviting him into her home. She’d told herself it was only in search of more information, but a tiny part of her, the one that was unfailingly honest and sometimes gets her in trouble, had admitted her rescuer intrigued her, even without a name.

Well. Now she has one. A plan forms rapidly, and Caroline scrambles for her phone, digging it out of her couch cushions. She taps the screen, connecting a call to Bonnie. “Bon? Sorry to bug you when you’re off the clock. But I need you to find someone for me.”

She stands, walking into her bedroom as she explains what she needs.

Bonnie’s a genius, well worth the exorbitant salary Caroline pays her. She gets the address within an hour.

* * * * *

Caroline drops a rope onto the terrace of Klaus’ apartment, slips down with barely a whisper of sound, landing lightly. She hugs the side of the building, inching over to the open French doors. She’s fully suited up, hair tightly controlled, and mask on. She eases her foot over the threshold, eyes darting around.

Ugh, of course, he has excellent taste.

Caroline likes light and airy, fun patterns and textures. But she can appreciate the sumptuousness of Klaus’ living room. It’s done up in burgundies and neutrals, hints of gold. There’s a buttery leather sofa facing a fireplace, thick carpets that muffle the sounds of her boots as she walks further in. She can imagine a pleasant night in front of a crackling fire, curled up on the couch when the weather turns cold.

But she’s getting ahead of herself.

Her nose twitches, picking up the smell of curry, cardamom, and turmeric.

She hears a door click shut, whirls to find Klaus, barefoot and still dressed up from The Gala, though he’s ditched the jacket and tie. He leans against the now-closed doors to the terrace. He smiles at her warmly, “Hello, Caroline.”

Which answers one of her most pressing questions.

Caroline yanks her mask off, tossing it aside. “I realize this is going to give you déjà vu, but what exactly is happening here?”

Klaus pushes off from the door, ambles towards her, studying her reaction carefully. Caroline doesn’t flinch away or retreat. “I have a proposition for you. And I have dinner. Takeaway from that place you visited the other day when your evening plans were… interrupted. I even got the mango lassi.”

Caroline narrows her eyes, “I have weapons, you know. Way more than you’d think, given how tight this outfit is.”

He laughs, a low husky sound that Caroline knows would be easy to get addicted to. “I’m sure you do. I’m not worried about you using them on me. I only want you to hear out my proposal. You can leave anytime you wish.”

She wonders if it’s stupid to believe him, but she does. He’d had the upper hand two days ago, had no trouble dispatching the group that had taken her. If he had nefarious intentions, he could have picked up right where they left off with the torture.

Caroline’s learned to trust her instincts. They’re telling her she’s safe.

She tugs her hair out of its elastic, loosens her collar slightly, pulling the zipper down a few inches. “Mind lending me something to wear? This totally isn’t designed for sitting for long periods.”

Klaus directs her to a guestroom, gathers a few things of his for her to wear. When she gets to the dining room, she finds he’s arranged the food on gleaming platters and lit candles. Her mango lassi, in its plastic cup, looks wildly out of place.

Caroline refuses to find it endearing.

At least until she’s confirmed that her instincts are correct.