#but yeah i needed the stakes to be lower than ‘raising a god’ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

countrymusiclover · 9 months

Text

31 - Not out of the woods Yet

Part 32

Family is More than Blood

@icefrye19 @secretdreamlandmentality

Standing in the middle of the stairwell doorway I sukcked im a breath feeling anger welling throughout my entire body. Alyssa still had the white oak stake shoved inside my husband’s chest. Raising my right hand I vamped forward causing her to grab her head in agonizing pain. “Ah sha lana…ah sha lana!”

“You can’t kill me, Raelyn!” She winced, holding her head and lowering herself down onto her knees.

Throwing her against the wall with my other hand she grunted at the impact. Rushing over to Nik's side he gasped harshly. I could see his skin turning Grey and the veins begin covering his whole body. Dropping myself down onto my knees I wrapped my fingers around the stake yanking it out so harshly that I fell backwards onto the wooden floor. “Urgh!....please work.” I mumbled to myself seeing his body remaining the same for a few good seconds.

His blue eyes shot open and he sat upright holding a hand over the wound that began healing. “Raelyn!”

“Oh…thank god.” Placing my hand over my heart I sighed in relief.

Hope came rushing over to my side. “Mom, are you back?”

“Yeah sweetie. I'm back - look out!” I cried pointing towards Alyssa or better yet the Hollow who had managed to remove herself from the wall spell.

The witch stands in front of us where I turned my hands into fists at my sides. Hope got in a fighting position beside me. “What are we going to do to her?”

“It doesn’t matter what you try on me, heretic. Only your daughter's can kill me in case you've forgotten.” The Hollow walked around with her hands clasped together behind her back proudly.

Alina growled under her breath moving forward and trying to kick Alyssa but she sensed the attack. She grabbed her ankle and swung her around in circles for a good minute before releasing her grip and threw her into the nearest bookshelf. “Alina!”

“I’m okay…” She gasped for breath, lifting her head up slightly when I called her name.

Missy scrambled to her feet snapping her wrists and throwing her hands out in front of her. “Ventus.” Alyssa cried out getting thrown backwards by the amount of magic she blasted her with.

“What are we supposed to do, heretic queen?” Klaus came over to my side finally getting to his feet ready to fight.

Quickly scanning the room I knew that we defeated the Hollow before with my kids blood and the knife that he killed her centuries ago. At the moment that knife was back in New Orleans with Freya and Vincent so we had to stall until we could get it from them. “We can’t kill her yet. We don't have what we need…or maybe we do.” I admit to him eyeing the white oak stake on the ground.

“What are you thinking?” He asked me where my gaze had landed.

Calling my eldest daughter she came over to us quickly. “Hope, cut your palm and drop your blood on the stake. Alina, Missy, you do the same.” Snatching the stake from the wooden ground handing it over to my first born child.

She nods using the end of the stake to cut her palm, drawing blood. She drops her blood, handing it over to Missy who follows her sister's action biting into her wrist making it bleed. “Alina, it's your turn.” Missy handed it to her and she cut her palm, gripping the stake in her hands before she launched it towards the hollow.

Alyssa raised her hand, stopping it with her hand throwing Klaus and our daughters backwards. She looked in my direction where I mumbled quietly under my breath turning invisible. “Invisique.” My whole body wasn't visible to her, giving me the opportunity to grab the stake that she had frozen in front of her chest.

“I’ve had just about enough of you, Hollow!” My husband grunted getting to his feet. He vamped towards her smacking into a barrier spell holding his head. “What the hell have you done?”

The Hollow glanced around confused. “That wasn’t me, hybrid.”

“Then who was it!” He questioned her, seeing a hand turning red against the barrier he had just smacked into.

Keeping my eyes shut briefly I became visible to their eyes once more. My freehand was pressing against the barrier with me muttering a spell. “Guess again, bitch!….Imperium monstrum.”

“Rae. We aren’t going through this again!” Klaus hit his fists on the barrier between him and the us now.

I shake my head pressing the stake into her back where I could smell the fresh blood dripping onto it. Now that it had my daughter's blood on it could actually kill her once and for all. “I’m sorry, Nik. But she has to die.”

“You said we shouldn’t kill if there’s another way.” Missy sent me some sad eyes.

Alina got to her side flashing her werewolf eyes while Hope had nothing else to add onto their statements. “Forget that. She took over Alyssa’s body and almost ruined our family. She took away mom’s memories. She tried to kill us too many times. I don’t see a problem with it!”

“Raelyn, don’t do this.” Klaus begged me with those blue eyes.

Shifting the tip of the stake up to her heart the hollow winced when I slowly pushed it inside her back. “This has to be done, Nik….urgh! Magia tollux de terras… Magia tollux de terras…Magia tollux de terras!” I began chanting, shoving the stake through her heart hearing her cry. At the same time my freehand gripping her shoulder blade turned red and siphoning the magic from her into my bloodstream.

I sucked in a shaky breath focusing my gaze to my husband seeing the same terrified gaze he had when I performed a spell like this one. But I didn’t regret what I was doing. This was to protect my family. To protect the school and the kids that attended it. And that image would remain burned in his memory for all eternity.

“Klaus, I need you to listen to me. I wish we had more time together. Because you are honestly everything I never knew I could have. I…I don’t know what I feel for you but I deeply care about you. So go live your life for me…Magia tollux de terras.” I started crying imagining that I never got to truly be with him. But he needed to live more than I did so that Caroline and the others could.

Klaus vamped forward not caring that the flames grew banging on the magical barrier crying some strong tears for me. “Raelyn! No, no, Rae. Don’t you dare do anything. Stop it, Rae….I deeply care for you too…”

“Magia tollux de terras……Magia tollux de terras.” I grunted forcing myself to my feet stumbling around with blood falling down onto my clothes as I walked towards Finn and Esther.

Grabbing Finn by his shoulder I limped in between the pair gripping Esther by the forearm where she winced sharply staring down at my red hand on both her and her son. “What the hell are you doing, girl!”

“Magia tollux de terras!” I declared gasping sharply feeling her energy running through her, but it was a lot more than I was ever used to. My eyes began rolling to the back of my head and I coughed out some blood from my mouth and nose. Black veins were appearing on my hands drawing her magical source from her

Klaus banged the barrier again hearing my heart almost giving out. “Raelyn, stop it. You have to let go before it kills you - Raelyn!”

Once they were gone I couldn’t stand on my own where I collapsed onto the dirt and salt beneath me. My blonde hair was dirty and stained with blood from where my neck was still bleeding from Finn’s bite. Someone vamped forward lifting my head where I struggled to meet the blue gaze of the hybrid. “Rae, Rae, hey, hey. Look at me please. I need you to keep your eyes open for me.”

“Nik…” I wrapped my fingers around one of his wrists, not able to keep my eyes open any longer.

My body started swaying like it had back then. The Hollow moaned in pain and I felt her body getting heavier against mine. She stumbled backwards and I could hear her heartbeat slowing down. “You can’t kill me, Heretic…”

“Really cause it looks like I’m winning the war right now.” I whispered in her ear, scraping my fangs against her neck, feeling her shiver against the fresh tips. Twisting the stake that was inside her chest she grunts harshly once more. My other hand on her shoulder gripped tighter for balance and I could see the black veins reappearing back across my body yet I didn’t ever let go. “Don’t mess with the Mikaelson’s!”

The hollow screamed out collapsing onto the wooden floor when I yanked the stake out from her chest, staining my clothes in blood. “Argh!….un.”

“Rae!” Klaus vamped forward managing to break through the spell that was now broken. He gently grabbed a hold of my forearms seeing that my body was swaying side to side. “You made the veins come back, love.”

“Nik, I’ll be fine….” I mumbled under my breath letting the bloody stake clatter to the wooden floor. My eyes began getting heavy and I could barely keep them open where my body fell forward to his chest.

He quickly caught my body and scooped me up in a bridal style. “Woah…easy now. You don’t see fine, Raelyn.” Laying my head against his embrace I gripped his shirt in my fingers.

“Dad, is she going to be okay?” Missy asked him.

Hope eyed Alyssa’s body on the ground. “I’ll handle her before anyone else sees this.”

“I still say she deserved it.” Alina smirked, not upset that I had staked her.

Klaus put his attention on our daughters hearing crying coming from the twins bedroom. He vamped, still carrying my body closely to his chest. He lays me down on the bed where I struggled to keep my eyes open seeing baby Charming crawling around on the floor and the curtains were blowing around with the light’s flickering around in the wind he was creating. “Klaus, what’s going on with our boy?”

“I don’t know. I’m more worried about you, heretic queen.” My husband came over to me touching the side of my face seeing that the black veins hadn’t gone away. “How are you feeling?”

Coughing into my sleeve I saw Rapunzel trying to get to her feet and climb on the edge of the bed. She came over to me touching my arm and I winced seeing her hand turn red meaning she was a siphoner until her twin brother. “Ah Rapunzel!”

“Little niece, we have a problem.” I gasped somewhat recognizing the voice that called me that old nickname. Blinking through some tears my vision began blurring where I saw a figure standing by my husband that appeared to be my dead uncle Joshua.

Croaking out I didn’t understand what the Hollow’s magic was doing to me. “Uncle Joshua, no. You’re…you’re dead.”

“Raelyn, there’s no one there.” Klaus glanced over his shoulder seeing nobody was there. “I’m calling Freya right now.”

Shaking my head the veins growing up my arm started burning through my blood making me wince sharply. My dead uncle came and sat down on the bed and put Rapunzel down in his lap. “How am I seeing you right now?”

“Because you're on the verge of death after taking that magic again. If you don’t get rid of it soon you will die. You can’t hold onto that much power all at once.” Uncle Joshua warned me, eyeing baby Charming. “That’s not the only warning I have for you.”

Charming coughed and the glass in the window cracked. Rapunzel watched her brother and clasped her hands together causing one of the pillows beside my head to burst into feathers. “What else could be worse than the fact that I’m dying from black magic yet again?”

“I don’t know how but these little guys aren’t spared from the family curse like we originally thought. After Kai escaped his prison world I could feel something changing in heaven and I can’t explain it.” My uncle explained in a shaky breath.

Covering my face with my hands I didn’t want to believe him. It had to be the dark magic inside me trying to play tricks on my mind. I knew that I had spared anyone in my bloodline. I just couldn’t save Lizzie and Josie from the Merge. “You’re a trick by the Hollow. Charming and Rapunzel don’t have to merge. I took care of it years ago. I know I did.”

“I’m sorry to say that when Kai escaped something was reset. Either by his hand or somebody else I don’t know.” Uncle Joshua sucked in a worried breath meeting my gaze. “Alina and Missy are spared. But he spelled these two with something dark.”

I gulped still in strong denial of what he was telling me. “Uncle Joshua, you’re lying.”

He slumped his shoulders and disappeared the second that Klaus came back into the room informing me that Freya was on her way from Orleans. “I wish I could say I was, little niece. But Rapunzel and Charming will have to merge at some point.” Shutting my eyes I laid my head back feeling my whole body shaking and my heart was getting tighter in my chest even though I was a vampire. The Mikaelson’s aren’t out of the wood’s just yet.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

7 notes · View notes

falling-pages · 3 years

Note

Okay how about first cuddles with Bakugou? Like he is almost feral about being held and having reader snuggle into them. And then....then he realizes the powers of a good cuddle. His body relaxes and accepts the cuddles. You know, just Bakugou leaning how to be a soft boy. 🥰🥰🥰 Hope this helps!! Happy Writing!!

This T_T my heart absolutely melted. This was absolutely self-indulgent on my end and I’m so happy you requested it!!!!

I decided to make it a part 2 of this one shot since so many people asked for a part 2 🥰🥰🥰 Lol also it’s long so I’m sorry

Friday Night pt. 2:

Third-Year Bakugou Katsuki x Third-Year gender-neutral Reader

Genre: Fluff, pining, cuddles, first kiss, just Bakugou going feral when he finally gets cuddles

Bakugou didn’t sleep like you thought he would.

Even with the fever ripping through his body, he laid there so peacefully. On his back, eyes scrunched shut, mouth in a thin line, the first time you had ever seen him not scowling, actually. It was like sneaking back into school after hours and watching the teachers work silently, in their natural habitats.

You didn’t know what you were expecting him to look like unconscious. Snarling snores, maybe. Resting on his stomach, gripping the sheets in his fists hard enough to rip. Probably thrashing, screaming and cursing at his dreams. Imploding smokey holes into the mattress.

But not...this. Not so peaceful, not the way he turned and slightly smiled at whatever his brain came up with. Not the way he would gently breathe in and out of his nose. Not the way his right hand sat limply at his side, his left crossed protectively over his worst wound near his stomach. Not the way his hair stuck out on the pillow gently cushioning his bruised face.

Neither Bakugou nor Aizawa would tell you how he got hurt, raising your suspicions. With graduation looming and the hero license exam nearing, you had figured your teacher had taken some of the top third-year students out for extra training. Bakugou had garnered more control over his quirk, granted, but he still needed the extra training. He liked to push himself too hard, take too many missions. Your outburst earlier in the evening sunk that into his thick skull.

Some part of watching him felt wrong, knowing he would blast you into outer space if he caught you looking. But this was your job tonight, to sit by his side and watch over him as he healed.

He suddenly gasped in his sleep, eyebrows furrowing as he clutched his deepest wound. The air rushed out of his now-open mouth, accompanying the slightest whimper. You lurched forward and activated your quirk, falling to your knees to look within him.

It staked your heart to see him in so much pain, but nothing was wrong, just some blood rushing to his wound. Not too heavy to come through the bandage, though, so you blinked and let it be.

And then you took a calculated risk. Maybe it was foolish, maybe it was wrong, maybe you thought “to hell with it” about his malicious tendencies. You knew it wouldn’t cure him, and you knew he would probably disintegrate you into a pile of ash and smoke, but you wanted to try. That tugging feeling in your stomach wouldn’t leave you alone, so...

You kissed him.

Well, his forehead. It was hot and dripping with sweat, and you knew it was dangerous, you knew his power was stored in his sweat, but you did it anyway. You had to. You had to try something to ease his pain.

He shifted beneath your touch, and you dove back into your chair and tried to act nonchalant.

Like that would work. Nothing escaped Bakugou, even when he slept.

His eyes peeled open, eyebrows quirked as he took in his surroundings. A brief whiff of smoke aired from his palms until he realized where he was. In “some extra’s dorm.”

“Hey--” his voice crackled like his bombs as his eyes fully adjusted to the dim lamplight. His peaceful facade remained.

“Hey,” you whispered back. Even injured and half-asleep, he still intimidated you.

“What happened?”

You breathed, relief flooding your core. He hadn’t noticed. “The pain woke you up. But you’re alright. Go back to sleep.”

His eyes trailed lazily across the room, until they met yours. Those crimson red irises could strike fear into the hearts of friend and foe, but when they looked at you, they were soft, confused, trusting. Sleepy.

“That’s not all.”

You settled back in your chair, fiddling with the wicker arms. “That’s what happened.”

“You kissed me.”

You suddenly prayed to every god that you would die. Shiiiiiiiiit, he felt that?

Panic covered your hands, making you lose feeling in your fingers. A buzzer sounded in your head, like an evacuation alarm. You cleared your throat. You wracked your brain for an excuse, but came up empty. Lying to him was a surefire way of getting blasted through the nearest wall. And, if the way he looked at you was any indication, you’d better tell the truth. “Only on the forehead.”

Bakugou studied you. Now his eyes were calculating, cunning. Now you couldn’t tell if he were looking at you as friend or foe. “You know my sweat could blast your face off.”

It would be a mercy compared to what you were about to go through. “You...just looked like you were in pain. I wanted to help.”

He stared at you for a few more painful seconds. His gaze pierced your sternum like a knife. Then, as if Heaven itself opened, he smiled.

He smiled.

“I wouldn’t mind another,” he murmured, turning his head back to the ceiling. Try as he might, you saw that grin, joining the blush running across his cheeks. As much as your crush feelings were hyped, you couldn’t help but feel more relieved at the fact that you were still in one piece.

You crept forward, hesitant to do as he suggested. He was a bucking horse, a wildfire that changed direction with the wind. It was all you could do to avoid getting burned.

As you leaned over him again, your size dwarfed by him, that calculating sheen stayed put. Was he going to burn you as you were defenseless? Was he going to blast you? He wouldn’t. He had better instincts than to hurt the very person taking care of his injuries as he laid helpless in bed.

But if he was being vulnerable with you, then maybe you should be vulnerable with him.

When you were just a few inches away, Bakugou’s eyes still open, he suddenly reached up and yanked your head down, interlocking his lips with yours. You sputtered, jerking to pull off, but his hand kept you there, eyes fluttering shut as soon as you made contact. After a moment, when you felt your soul reenter your body, you shifted to support yourself better, kneeling half-way on the bed, crossing your chest just above his.

He was warm. You could feel his warmth even while you sat feet away. Unlike Deku, whose skin was always cool and clammy, he was warm. Either by his quirk or fever or just himself, he was burning up, fiery to touch, like a cast iron brand digging into your side. That’s how he made his way in this world, torching the earth and salting the fields if he didn’t get what he wanted, setting off explosions to mold and shift reality into what he desired. He was molten lava, desperate, eager, wanting, burning and terrifying to touch, a spark set ablaze to decimate anything in its path.

Pulsating, and beating, and alive.

But when you lowered your fingertips to his shoulder, and you flinched--breaking the kiss to softly gasp--he frowned, focusing on your face, the way your eyes looked at your hand and how your sensitive fingers rubbed together.

“You okay?” he whispered, gravel voice hushed in honor of the moment.

You heard the pain laced beneath his voice and turned to look at him. Your hand fell on the mattress beside his chest. As his eyes bore into your head, you watched him, the way his muscles rippled, the way his very soul seemed enchanted by your kiss. If you activated your quirk, you were sure you could see the way his blood danced beneath his skin, the rush of chemicals to his brain, the excitement flaring in his nostrils.

He was an inferno incarnate, breathing and wild and alive, letting you touch him with all the slow calmness of an ocean breeze.

You slowly blinked, losing yourself in the imprint of his lips on yours. You unconsciously reached up to your mouth, tracing the outline of it with your fingertips.

As you make a sound of satisfaction, he smirked, trailing a hand up your calf to rest placidly on your thigh. “I said, extra, you okay?”

“Umm. Yeah.” Your eyes follow his hand, expecting it to burst like his grenades. “You’re just really hot.”

He scoffed, smacking your thigh--but gently, just feeling your skin. “Damn right I am.”

“No, not like that.” You rolled your eyes. “I mean, you are hot--attractive, I mean--but your skin...ummm, it burned me.”

“Oh,” he grunted. His eyebrows furrowed, losing that playful edge. He took away his hand, bunching around the sheets instead.

You massaged your sore fingers as he contemplated. You nearly missed his hissed out, “Sorry.”

So it was a night of firsts--the first time he heard you curse, the first time you heard him apologize, your first kiss and his, too, as far as you knew.

“It’s okay.”

Bakugou moved, waving your helping hand away in case he burned you again. Once he sat up, he leveled his eyes to yours and very lightly, gingerly, took your hand and raised it to his pouty lips. You waited for the sting, but as he kissed your fingertips, all you felt was warmth, like molten chocolate, like a woolen scarf, like the sleepy feeling of an open oven door.

He finished by rotating your hand in all angles and degrees, making sure to cover every inch of your palm, knuckles, and wrist in his love. The residual buzz traveled from your hand into your heart.

“It’s my emotions,” he murmured against your skin. “My quirk acts up when I’m emotional.”

He kept his eyes nearly shut, only focusing on pressing more adoring kisses to your skin. When you returned your other hand to his chest, he shuddered, staring back at you with wide eyes. You saw what he was about to say--“Don’t touch me, I don’t want to hurt you”--and folded your finger against his lips.

“You won’t hurt me,” you whisper. “You’re powerful, but I’m not afraid of you.”

You moved your hand down and leaned forward, returning his kiss. The hand he once possessed smoothed under his jaw, outlining it with a finger to pull him close. You tasted the hesitancy in his lips, no longer masked under the bravado of his previous kiss, and smiled. You searched for his hand and found it, bringing it to your waist, giving permission to the boy who rarely waited for others’ approval. But he waited for you. He respected you.

I know you won’t hurt me.

And that single move was when he realized he was so, so feral for your touch.

His long, powerful arms wrapped around your middle, hauling you completely onto the bed and scooting you into his lap, hugging you as close as he possibly could. There was no soft bone in his body--he devoured you, desperate for your love, your lips, you, you, you. A boy who had been scared to touch all of his life--knowing what it did to people, what he could do if he tried, the damage he even did on accident--was now clutching someone who wasn’t scared, someone who cared, whose hands knotted in his hair revealed just how desperately you needed him, as well.

You filled him with your love, and he you, and you felt a tear escape, the kind that you cry when watching a sunset, or eating ice cream, or listening to your favorite song, when you’re so happy that smiling just isn’t enough.

Bakugou felt the wetness on your cheek and paused, cradling and dipping the back of your head so he could kiss it away. “What’s wrong, Firework?”

You veins ran hot at the pet name so naturally falling from his lips. “Nothing.” You smile, biting your lip. “I’m just happy.”

He nuzzled your forehead. “Good. Now, let’s lay down. You need to sleep.”

You smoothed the bottom of your pajama shirt as he stretched to turn off the lamp. As you began to wriggle out of his grasp, he suddenly grabbed you tighter and held you as he shifted, lifting the blanket and dragging you both below. You began to protest on account of his injuries, but he squeezed you tighter against his chest.

“I’m not letting you out of my arms again,” he whispered, with a kiss to the head.

Once you both were situated in the dark, you rested your head on his shoulder as he scratched your back. The long, slow strokes nearly lulled you into sleep, but one question filled your mind.

“Baku--”

“Katsuki.”

You couldn’t see him, but he moved his face nearer yours, catching your hand planted on his chest. “Call me Katsuki.”

“Okay.” The draw of his informal name sent a chill down your spine that you’re sure he felt. “Katsuki, why call me Firework?”

He smiled into your hair, shifting your weight onto him. Drowsiness choked his voice. “Because fireworks are beautiful, brilliant, and I like to look at them.” His knuckles found your cheek, and he brushed them against it. “And you are beautiful, brilliant, and I like to look at you.”

Satisfied, you closed your eyes, drinking in the feeling of his warm skin and arms cradling you, desperate, never willing to let you go, and you never wanting him to.

#katsuki bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugo katuski #katsuki bakugou x reader #boku no academia #my hero academia #bakugou fanfiction #bakugou #bakugou katsuki #mha #bnha #mha bakugou #mha bakugo #bnha bakugo #bnha bakugou

211 notes · View notes

pastelwitchling · 3 years

Text

I honestly have no idea what this is. Malex smut and fluff with some angst and jealousy sprinkled in? Yes.

Alex woke to open-mouthed kisses along his naked shoulder, his spine. Michael’s hand ran up and down the dip of his waist, and he shuddered, burrowing deeper into the blankets of his bed.

“Morning,” Michael whispered along the nape of his neck before pressing a soft kiss there, too.

Alex merely hummed in response. He could feel the early morning rays on his cheeks, and his body melted against the warmth of Michael’s body against his back. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept in past sunrise. He ought to have been disconcerted, but with Michael so close, he couldn’t find it in him to fear anything.

“I feel like a hero,” Michael chuckled. “I never get to see you sleeping.” Alex felt the vibrations of his chest against his back. He smiled into his pillow.

“Don’t get used to it,” he murmured.

Michael kissed his shoulder blade. “I guess I’ll just have to keep tiring you out.”

Alex moved onto his back. Michael looked ready, hovering above him in an instant and keeping their chests pressed together.

Alex ran his hands up Michael’s sides, his chest, settling on his strong shoulders. Michael’s eyes fluttered shut to his touch. Alex raised his chin, his lips brushing Michael’s. “Yeah?”

Michael groaned low in his throat and nodded, leaning down so that his mouth almost slotted against Alex’s as he spoke. “Don’t do that,” he breathed.

“Do what?”

“Use that voice,” he said, his own voice like gravel, already tracing his fingers down Alex’s chest, his stomach. His eyes were shut, his forehead pressed tightly to Alex’s. “You know what it does to me.”

Alex leaned his body into Michael’s touch, biting his lower lip. He felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest, the calm, sleepy pleasure and eagerness for Michael to touch him settled in his bones and made him want to spread his legs and take whatever was given.

“Please,” the word escaped him in a whisper before he could help it. He didn’t care. This was Michael, his beautiful cowboy. Alex watched the gold specs dance across his bright hazel eyes, the tips of his curls turned to caramel. He traced that gorgeous lower lip with his thumb, watched the way Michael hungrily swiped his tongue out to taste him, and the only thing he could find himself capable of saying was –

“Please.”

“Baby,” Michael breathed. Alex knew what that word did to him, too.

His fingers were barely an inch away from Alex’s length, buried in wiry hair, Alex arching up into his touch, when the doorbell rang.

Alex eyes opened and he lifted his head. “Who’s here?”

“Who cares?” Michael breathed, his blunt nails digging into Alex’s sensitive skin and making his breath catch in his throat.

Yeah, Alex started to think as Michael’s stomach touched his own. Who cares?

The doorbell rang again, then a knock. It sounded urgent. Alex’s brows furrowed and he moved to sit up.

“Guerin,” he said a little breathlessly. His face felt hot. “It might be important.”

“It’s not,” Michael insisted, already trying to lay Alex back down. He cupped his jaw and moved in for a kiss when another knock came. Michael growled, “I swear to God –”

Alex nudged his hip so that they weren’t on top of each other anymore, and swung his leg off the edge of the bed. He reached for a pair of sweats, and heard Michael groan as he pulled an Air Force t-shirt over his head.

He smiled over his shoulder, letting his eyes rake Michael’s naked chest, his toned stomach, the blanket pooled just at his hips and revealing strong, bronze thighs. He licked his lower lip.

“Stare at me a second longer,” Michael said fiercely, “and you’ll never make it to that door.”

Alex laughed as he turned and left the room on his crutches. He heard Michael whisper a curse behind him before he shuffled around the room, looking for his own clothes. He opened the door to find Forrest standing on the other side.

“Awesome,” Alex sighed. “Guerin will love this.”

“Is he here?” Forrest asked, then shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.” He walked into the house past Alex. “I need to talk to you.”

“What happened?”

“What happened?” he scoffed once they were both in the living room. Without a word, he held out his hand. “Where is it?”

Alex raised a brow. “Where’s what?”

“Your Deep Sky ring!” he demanded. “I know you have one!”

“You look good,” Alex told him. “Book tour’s been treating you well.”

“Stop being cute,” he demanded, though his cheeks turned pink. “Hand it over.”

Alex held his gaze a moment longer, and finally he settled, “Does it matter that you see it?”

Forrest looked like he’d been expecting this answer. “You can’t even pull it out when you’re not inside, can you?” He shook his head. “I can’t believe you actually let them recruit you.”

“I can’t believe it took you this long to panic,” Alex said, “considering I left the coded voicemail last night.”

“My battery was dead!” he snapped.

“Ah.” Alex smiled, unable to help it.

“How?” Forrest demanded. “Alex, how could you do this? I told you –”

“I know,” he reassured him, “but I’ve got it handled.”

“Handled,” he repeated faintly. “Look, babe,” he sat down on the couch, leaning his elbows on his knees. “I know you’re tough, okay? You’re the toughest person I’ve ever met. But this . . . these people erased Jenna Cameron’s memory, remember? They shot at her sister and Evans! What if . . . what if they . . .”

“They’re not gonna touch Alex,” Michael suddenly said. He was leaning against the doorway, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans, his arms crossed. He did not look happy to be out of bed. “Is that it? Because if it is –”

“Listen, jackass,” Forrest said dryly, “I get that you never liked me – God knows why since I made Alex happier than I’ve ever seen him with you –”

Michael tilted his head, a tick in his jaw. He warned, “Alex . . .”

“—But I gave Alex a legitimate warning against these people, and I don’t trust you to be unbiased.”

Michael looked even less happy. He straightened, smirking humorlessly. “You think I’d ignore a threat against Alex because of who it came from?”

“Guys –”

“I think,” Forrest argued, “that when Alex is at stake, you stop thinking about anything else. You have to be his hero, and I think that taking Deep Sky seriously means admitting that I was the one looking out for him this time, and you can’t handle that.”

“Forrest, just –”

“Careful, Long,” Michael said darkly. “I can still throw your ass out the window.”

“Stop it!” Alex snapped, and pinched the bridge of his nose. A headache already. Great. When he looked up, he saw both the men looked somehow simultaneously furious with each other and concerned for him.

“Forrest,” Alex tried, “I know what I’m doing, okay? You know me, I don’t jump into anything.”

“But Cap –”

“You know me.”

Forrest swallowed, considering, and nodded. Without another glance at Michael, he walked up to Alex and put a hand on his shoulder.

“And you know me,” he said. “So you know I’m not leaving this alone.”

Alex considered his words, and a smile tugged at his lips. He nodded. With a squeeze to his shoulder, Forrest left.

He closed the door behind him, and the silence echoed like a Notre Dame bell. Michael was staring at the hallway Forrest had gone through, his jaw clenched and his fists trembling at his sides.

Alex came up to him, and took his face in his hands. He kissed him softly, then again when it felt like Michael was struggling to open his mouth. Alex traced a hand along his jaw, felt it loosen, felt Michael’s lips part against his, his tongue angrily making its way into Alex’s mouth as his hands gripped Alex’s waist and held him tight against him.

Michael’s kisses were furious, demanding, rough, and it made Alex’s heart swoon all the same. He wrapped his arms around Michael’s shoulders and tilted his head to deepen the kiss. Michael pushed Alex against the wall and pressed against him, kissing him harder.

“I hate him,” Michael growled before he devoured Alex’s mouth again.

“No, you don’t,” Alex breathed, pulling him back in.

“Hold me tighter,” he demanded, and Alex did, all too happy to have him close. He barely felt Michael’s hands tug on the hem of his shirt before he was pulling it over his shoulders. Alex pulled away to breathe, but Michael only grabbed his face and kissed him harder.

“Stay close to me.”

Alex nodded and leaned his weight against Michael, letting his crutches fall away. Michael picked him up, keeping his grip firmly on Alex’s thighs, holding him steady. He carried him back into the bedroom and fell on top of him, kissing him hungrily.

“Don’t let go,” he breathed into Alex’s mouth.

“Never.”

Michael used his powers to rid Alex of his sweats and his own jeans. He ran a hand up Alex’s legs, his nails carving into his hips, his waist.

“He can’t have you,” he growled. “You’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” Alex promised, his head falling back as Michael licked up the inside of his thigh.

“I know you,” he kissed the sensitive skin, “better than he does. Better than anyone.”

Alex could only nod, gasping shakily as Michael bit into the hairy skin between his hips. He gripped the sheets as Michael moved up his body, kissing wherever he could reach. When Michael was hovering above him, their bodies pressed together, Alex could see the concern behind Michael’s anger, the hurt in the beautiful eyes he loved so much.

“You love me.”

Alex touched his lips, his cheeks, his jaw. Michael leaned into his touch like he needed it to breathe, his eyes fluttering, and Alex whispered, “I only ever have.”

Michael’s eyes opened, the anger faded to something softer, something more afraid and hopeful. “Yeah?”

Alex bit his lower lip to hide his smile. “Don’t use that voice,” he warned, bringing his hands up Michael’s naked back and pulling him in until they were sharing the same breath. Michael’s pupils were blown wide, his mouth hanging open, eager to touch.

“You know what it does to me.”

#alex manes #michael guerin #malex #malex fic #malex fanfic #malex fanfiction #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #malex angst #malex fluff #tyler blackburn #michael vlamis

128 notes · View notes

givemethatgold · 3 years

Text

Fix’er Upper - Part Twelve

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader Warnings: Mentions of sex, swearing, mentions of drug use, fluff, smidge of angst? Length: 1.7k Notes: Managed to whip up this bad boy during a quiet moment today and should probably make y’all wait for it but I don’t really do posting schedules (as you’ve noticed) so enjoy. Not beta’d, not proof read, I’ll die on this messy hill.

Series Masterlist

Surprisingly, life didn't change too much after that night. Frankie continued to run his acreage and oversee the making of this year's cider. With some encouragement and support from you, he was starting to expand the business and already had a few pubs in the closest city clamouring to have his product on tap.

Meanwhile, the improvements on the house were nearing an end, for the indoors list anyways. The first thing Frankie had helped you do was to install your new soaker tub, immediately followed by christening it by making soft, slow love to you inside of it.

There hadn't even been any water, your impatience to be close to each other wouldn't allow for that. You had just stripped out of your coveralls, convenient work-wear for people who fucked like rabbits you had to admit, and sat in his lap with your arms and legs wrapped around him. His hands guiding your hips in a slow rocking motion, breathing each other's air as your open mouths hovered in a not-quite kiss, only breaking eye contact when you threw your head back as you came.

Autumn passed quickly and Winter had gripped Vermont, cloaking the countryside in a heavy blanket of white. Christmas was a cozy affair, you and Frankie had been asked to join Jacquie and Mark in their family's merriment. It had stirred something inside of you, watching a functional family laugh, sing, argue, eat, and love with such abandon.

It was everything you'd dreamt, initially, for your future with Brad. Now? Now you were starting to picture that future with Frankie's face as the patriarch, you just haven't built up the nerve to broach the subject yet.

You'd started working at the bakery, enjoying the early mornings surrounded by rising dough and sculling back coffees with the adorable older ladies who ran the place. You'd also begun doing the books for Morales Acres and Catfish Brewery. Frankie was a veritable genius but he claimed he had no patience for keeping receipts and tracking numbers.

You had a sneaking suspicion he was playing dumb in an effort to give you more time together but you really didn't mind. Your break-of-dawn mornings at the bakery had you tired, but after a full day of renovating or bookkeeping, you were downright exhausted and ready for bed by eight pm. This, mixed with Frankie monitoring the brewing, bottling, and distribution of his cider and networking at bars and pubs throughout the state meant the two of you rarely saw each other.

All of your hard work in your own house had made you a popular friend to call when someone needed decorating advice, or a helping hand once they realized they couldn't tile their kitchen backsplash solo. You never charged for your time, although payment had initially been offered until work had got around that you preferred a good meal and conversation over money. I mean, sure, you could use the cash but it just didn't seem right. And you loved helping people and making deeper connections with the town you now truly felt you belonged in.

Tuesday evenings had become an unofficial date night for the two of you. The bakery was closed on Wednesdays and bar owners tended to be less interested in business halfway through the week, something to do with the rush of the previous weekend having worn off and the worry of setting up for another one starting to grow.

This meant you could stay up late, enjoy a proper homemade dinner, maybe even watch a movie or share a bottle of wine while soaking in your big ass tub. It usually ended as a sleepover, your house being the preferred location; Frankie's loft was perfectly fine but it did lack a certain homey appeal.

This pattern, this life, that you'd created for yourself was making you happier than you'd ever been in your entire life. You weren't one hundred percent content, not yet anyway, but the path to getting there was on a direct trajectory. You still wanted to finish your college degree, maybe switch it over to horticulture. Building a greenhouse and selling flowers was still a pipe dream but something your heart truly longed for, something that Frankie was constantly encouraging you to do.

"Look, hun," he had called out to you a few weeks ago while supposedly researching the new line of bottles. "There's an auction next county over and they have all this confiscated stuff from a grow op that got busted!"

"What?" You'd made a face and laughed at the absurdity of it all. "What on earth would you use from a pot farm?"

He just gave you a salacious wink as an answer.

Frankie had been open about his past drug abuse and while some recovering addicts may want all mention of it banned from a conversation, Frankie found levity in treating the topic like any other person would.

It had taken you a couple of hours to realize why he'd brought up the auction. It had hit you with a jolt, knowing that he’d remembered your rambling from on top of the Ferris wheel. You didn't realize he'd been listening when you'd told him about your idea of taking over the flower stand at the market once the current couple retired.

Your heart had swelled and there was a concerted effort to prevent the sudden onset of tears from running down your face. God, you loved this man, maybe one of these days you should tell him...

This particular routine was working well for the two of you. It gave each of you your own space to relax, destress, enjoy the shitty tv shows you were too embarrassed to watch in front of another living person. It also forced the two of you to take your relationship slowly, communication being a constant learning curve. You were both really good and telling each other when you needed time alone, when you were feeling stressed or sad. You each had learned the tells for when the other was angry or just hungry, if it was hormones or if there was something that was actually pissing you off.

The thing you each seemed to struggle with was expressing the softer side of the relationship. Neither of you appeared to have the Words of Affirmation love language skill, yet you both craved to hear it. You showed how much you cared for Frankie with your acts of service; helping him with the boring side of the business, baking, deep cleaning the loft, even scrubbing out the massive fermenter in the Catfish Cider warehouse.

Frankie, on the other hand, showed his love through physical touch. At first, you had assumed it was a staking-his-claim kind of thing but then you noticed how he'd do it all the time. A hand on your lower back while walking, caressing your hand with his thumb when driving in the truck, carding his fingers through your hair while you watched tv.

This week's date night found you at his place, relaxing in the loft after a busy workday. You were making dinner while he 'helped' by sneaking bites of the prepped ingredients, arm slung around you with a hand in your back pocket.

"What're you looking for?" He asked, taking advantage of your distracted searching through his cupboards to sneak a few more pinches of grated cheese.

"A can opener!" You replied, exasperation raising your voice an octave. "I could have sworn I saw a white one around here somewhere..."

“No, pretty sure that one's yours. I don't think I have one?"

"Frankie," you deadpanned "how did you survive as a bachelor without canned food?"

"I ate a lot of take-out?" He looked indignant at your laughter, "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Can you stop judging me long enough to eat some burritos?"

Smoothing his playful scowl with a kiss, you sat down at the counter and enjoyed your first meal together of the week.

An idea was formulating in the back of your mind, though, and you barely tasted anything. As the evening progressed, the idea grew and you were liking it more and more. The final straw was you not having a toothbrush in his bathroom anymore, having forgotten that it had fallen off the counter and into the trashcan the last time you'd spent the night.

Using his, with a strange mixture of distaste and nonchalance, before making your way over to the bed, you began to plan how the conversation could go:

Hey Frankie, so you know how I have a big house all to myself? Yeah... And it had everything we need in it? Yeah... And there's more than enough room for two adults to store all of their things? Yeah... And I wouldn't have to use your toothbrush ever again? Yea- wait what? I think you should move in with me.

It wasn't very romantic but it was the most likely, considering your dynamic. Just as you were crawling into bed and snuggling under the arm he'd raised to allow you to get closer, his cell phone rang.

"Hello? - This is he. - Yeah, biological. - Oh god, when?"

The immediate change in his tone from questioning to horrified caught your attention, sitting up to face him you grabbed his free hand, silently letting him know you were there for support.

His eyes were out of focus and a panicked expression was slowly morphing his face as the conversation went on, but he gave your hand a squeeze back in acknowledgement.

"Yes, in Vermont. Do you have my address? - Okay, good, good...okay - When? - I'll have something ready. Umm... does she... does she remember me? - Oh. Okay, thank you."

Slowly lowering the phone from his ear, Frankie sat staring into nothingness for what felt like hours. His side of the conversation and the way he was reacting had you rattled. You could guess as to what was happening but weren't sure if now was the right time to pry.

"Babe? Is, is everything okay?"

Silence.

Gripping his hand tighter and rubbing his back you sat with him for a few more minutes before trying again. You didn’t want to push him but your heart was constricting in your chest from nervousness and concern for him.

"Can I get you anything? What do you need?"

His hand was now completely dead in yours; eventually, he turned his head towards you, eyes never fully focusing, and shook his head.

"I- she- fuck... I think you should go.”

Part Thirteen

#Frankie Morales x F!Reader #Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader #Frankie Catfish Morales x F!Reader #Frankie Catfish Morales x Fem!Reader #Francisco Morales x F!Reader #Francisco Catfish Morales x Fem!Reader #Frankie Morales x Reader #Frankie Morales x you

153 notes · View notes

hintofelation99 · 3 years

Note

Hi! I love your posts and want to ask your opinion on something. Who do you think in the batfam has the most and the least common sense of a normal person? If you can, can you also list how they are arranged? Thank you!

Ooohhh, this is a fun one! In my mind all bats lack common sense. Like obviously they're hella smart, after all they are a family of detectives, they just aren't very bright.

Here's a quick rundown (least to most): Tim and Dick tie for first place, both lack common sense in just in completely different ways. Then Damian (mostly cause of the whole 'being raised by league of assassins' thing), Bruce, Cass (controversial ik), Steph, Jason, Duke, Babs, and last on the list is obvs Alfred. (Kate is probs between Cass and Steph, but I've only really seen her in the DCAMU and need to get to know her better).

And Ima add a 'keep reading' cause this is gonna get long.

Tim:

Tim is one of the smartest in the family. He deduced Batman's identity as a child, majorly fucked up the League of Assassins, and has been honored (I say this v sarcastically just btw) with Ra's creepy obsession. He's smart, plain and simple. However, when it comes to just day to day survival and being loved, goddamn that boy is dumb.

He regularly mixes energy drinks and coffee. Sometimes he even mixes energy drinks, alcohol, and coffee.

In his mind warnings are optional. "Tim, did you just sniff that drano?" "Yeah, why?" "IT LITERALLY SAYS DO NOT SMELL" "Oops"

He regularly tests shit on himself. "Why is Tim on the floor?" "He mixed joker venom and fear gas to see what would happen" "HE WHAT"

Also if you try to compliment him or tell him you love him he will find a way to misunderstand. "Tim, I love you and you are an amazing son." "I don't know who this Tim is but he sounds great" "It- it's you, literally you. Timothy Jackson Drake." "I'm a bit confused, I didn't know you knew two Timothy Jackson Drakes. You should really introduce us."

Dick:

Dick in many ways is a total himbo. He's a complete sweetheart, super supportive, and very ditzy. His ditzy-ness directly correlates to how relaxed he is. Chilling in the manor? Peak himbo. A mission in space? Absolute genius and amazing leader. Just took down a bunch of thugs? Slowly reverting into dopey boi. He always has the ability to be super analytical, smart, and big brain, but he likes being whimsical and even airheaded. And that's not a bad thing, it's just him taking mental breaks, being lighthearted.

"YOU PUT DIESEL IN YOUR CAR?" "...Yeah, in my defense the nozzles look basically the same" "They're different colors?! Also the diesel nozzle doesn't even fit into your gas tank, how did you get it in?" "I'm a good pourer."

He always responds to the word dick and it always confuses him. "God Ra's is such a dick!" "What?" "Ra's is a dick" "I'm not Ra's!" "Wha- no! I mean penis dick!" "Ohhhh, yeah he is a penis dick"

Once Dick is safe he reverts into himbo pretty quickly, even after stressful situations. "Hey Wally?" "Yes babe?" "I forgot how to change my lock screen again" "Dick, you just hacked into an alien spaceship not even an hour ago??" "What's that have to do with anything?"

Damian:

Damian lacks common sense from growing up with the League of Assassins. He's an amazing warrior and super analytical but casual human interaction alludes him. He is getting better though, so eventually he'll be lower on the list than Steph. But for now he's a senseless bby.

The first time someone tried to give him high five he assumed it was an attack and flipped them. Same with a fist bump.

This is complete canon but his original treatment of Alfred, his brothers, and, well, everyone. Like bby boy please read the room.

His ego can easily override common sense. Like he wouldn't jump off a bridge if everyone else was doing it, but if someone said he couldn't he'd immediately swan dive off that bridge.

Bruce:

For the world's greatest detective he can be a major dumb bitch sometimes. Some of it's growing up rich and some is being so wrapped up in his 'crusade for justice' that he just misses basic shit.

One time he walked in on Roy and Jason making out, the next day he saw them cuddling, then they mentioned moving in together. It took him three months to realize that they're dating.

He doesn't understand coupons, like at all. Jason has tried to explain them but Bruce just gets even more confused.

Bruce tried to make coffee once. He literally just poured coffee beans in water and microwaved it. He was surprised when it didn't taste good.

Cass:

Cass is similar to Damian in she lacks common sense from an unconventional upbringing. However she's learning way faster than Damian and depending on where in the timeline you're looking she might have more common sense than Babs.

Basic things like lines, turn taking, and speaking when spoken to aren't innate to her. Like, she knows and understands them, but often forgets about them.

There are many times that she blurs the line between civilian and vigilante because she'll do something that looks v stupid and dangerous for a civilian. The thing is she never notices when she does this.

One time she was in a restaurant and there was a cockroach on the wall across the room (cause Gotham) and instead of getting up and killing it like a normal person she threw her steak knife and impaled it.

Steph:

Steph is probably lacks common sense the most conventional yet slightly concerning way. She lacks common sense in the same way a cartoon character or sitcom character would. Like it's sorta realistic but at the same time damn bby girl why are you such a disaster??

She will do anything on a dare. Anything. There is a rule against daring Steph to do things while in the manor or on patrol.

Every time she hears someone say Red Robin she yells yum. This has gotten both her and RR shot.

Steph is v lucky that 1) she's a badass and 2) the batfam loves her because she annoys absolutely everyone just for shits and giggles and the only reason she hasn't been murdered is that Cass scares everyone.

Jason:

All common sense is lost when dramas at stake. Say what you will but Jason is the (second) biggest drama queen in the family. Also he, like most bats, lacks a sense of self preservation which leads to shit common sense.

He tried to steal Batman's tires.

Sometimes he listens to music during patrol and tries to hit people/shoot on beat. This has lead to stab wounds.

Jason loves to loudly quote classic literature while on stake outs. This is a problem for obvious reasons.

Duke:

Ok this is around the time you get to average common sense levels. But he still runs around Gotham beating people up in tights (or kevlar) so he doesn't get full points. Also he's still not Babs level common sense. One area Duke lacks common sense in is how to deal with the Batfam (which is v understandable tbh)

One time Duke was joking around with Jason and decided to steal a roll off of Damian's plate. This ended in blood.

Other than lacking Batfam common sense, most of his poor judgement moments are less notable but still concerning.

For example the time he challenged Dick to a hot dog eating contest then went on a roller coaster.

Babs:

Other than being a vigilante Babs almost has normal human common sense. However being a vigilante has negative side effects on ones common sense.

While Babs' sleep schedule isn't as bad as Tim's it's not a whole lot better. She's stayed up 72 consecutive hours multiple times.

She has accidentally poured coffee onto her computer instead of into a coffee mug.

One time she drank an entire gallon of milk before realizing it was a month expired.

Alfred:

Most assume that working for Bruce Wayne is a sign of him lacking common sense. But nah, it's him knowing, understanding, and challenging his own limits. Also it's him being a charitable human being. Like he has enough common sense to go around and tbh it's the only thing keeping the family alive.

"Master Bruce, you may not use Elmer's Glue All to close a wound."

"Master Dick I would encourage you not to teach Master Duke acrobatics on the glass coffee table."

"Miss Stephanie I would not advise trying to consume an entire jar of peanut butter in one sitting, and no, I do not care if Master Jason dared you to."

Tada, there's the list! Sorry that was probably a lot longer than anyone wanted, but I enjoy talking about how ditzy the batfam is. Like they're all geniuses but at the same time they're just sooooo dumb.

100 notes · View notes

pascalpanic · 3 years

Text

At Last (Frankie Morales x gn!Reader)

Summary: you, Frankie, and your fur baby go camping! Little does Frankie know what you have planned.

W/C: 2.1k

Warnings: flirting, innuendo, alcohol, food, language, otherwise, this is toothaching fluff!

A/N: SAMMY MY BELOVED @sanchosammy GAVE ME THIS IDEA! I hope it’s as cute as I think it is :) also, Charlie (Frankie’s pup) isn’t involved in this fic but she is still part of the fam :)

Pine trees surround you on either side, tall and majestic. You can see the blue-gray sky patching through the canopy; the clouds are leaving, but some linger a little longer to clog up the sky. The air is warm and slightly humid, but a wonderful breeze rustles through the trees and rushes across your bare arms. Your trail shoes squelch underfoot in the damp ground. You sigh, totally content with this moment.

Frankie’s flannel is tied around his waist, leaving him in his khaki cargo pants and t-shirt. A couple of curls peek out from under his ball cap, turning into little ringlets at the nape of his neck. He walks in front of you on the trail, his boots pressing prints into the soft ground. His back profile is beautiful, even with the large camping pack, and you can’t help but grin.

Foxtrot embodies her name- Frankie is holding her leash, and the auburn and white dog trots up ahead of him, sniffing along the mulched and muddied path. The air smells of humidity that’s just passed over and that wonderful accompanying petrichor. Fox’s white paws are surely getting dirtied, but that’s only to be expected. You don’t care, too excited to watch your boyfriend and dog walk ahead of you.

Frowning at the bend of Frankie’s back, you catch up and take his free hand. “Let me carry something, baby.”

“No,” he shakes his head, lacing his fingers through yours. “You have important cargo,” he teases and pats your back lightly.

Strapped to your back, in a backpack-style blue case, is your ukulele. One hand carries the cooler, slung over your shoulder, filled with food and drinks for tonight. Frankie carries the heavy-duty stuff- the tent, stakes, more essential supplies. “At least let me take Fox.”

Her red ears perk up at her name and she stops, turning and growing excited, as if she forgot you were there. “Yeah, hi Foxy!” You coo as she runs towards you, jumping with her front paws in the air in excitement. “Yeah, you love it out here, don’t you?” You ask her in a baby voice, scratching behind her ears as she circles around your legs and prevents you from moving. Frankie drops her leash in order to prevent your legs from being tourniqueted by it, and it drags behind her in the mud.

When you pick up the leash, it’s sludgy and damp, but you don’t mind too much. You continue the hike forward and Frankie and Fox follow at your sides, both beaming ear to ear and enjoying the serenity of the woods.

Frankie picked the campsite, so he’s technically leading the way, but the trail is fairly straightforward, meaning you don’t need to be led. Frankie points out wildlife here and there: chipmunks, rabbits, cardinals and chickadees flitting through the pine-needled canopy. He’s in his element, and you’re in yours: with him.

The mud gives way to drier ground ahead, and luckily enough Frankie pulls off to the side. It’s the perfect spot, with a beautiful little field of wildflowers. “Welcome to your five-star hotel for the night, babe,” he assures you and kisses you softly, making you giggle and kiss him back with excitement and a pinch of nerves in your stomach.

There’s a routine the two of you have silently adopted. Frankie sets up the small tent, just big enough for the two of you and Fox. You gather kindling, set up a fire, arrange the chairs and all-around make the outdoor area of your campsite ideal.

Frankie is a man of patience, truly, but sometimes the little portable tent proves to be a challenge. You allow Fox off of her leash, knowing she’s well-trained enough to stick around the site, and find your way to the mess of fabric and stakes covering the man. “Baby. For the love of God, we do this all the time,” you tease.

“Well, something must’ve fucking changed,” he grumbles as he fiddles with the parts. You get on your knees on the soft bed of dried pine needles and help him out. With your help, the tent takes no time at all to put up, and you stand and brush off your hands. Frankie gives you a sheepish smile and you give him a kiss.

The two of you don’t need to converse while you set things up. You enjoy the woods, the rustling of the wind and chirping of birds. Fox curls up on the blanket you set out for her, and when everything is done, you unzip the cooler and hand Frankie a beer. “Well, now we’re all set.”

“Let the fun begin,” he chuckles and twists the top open, clinking his glass bottle to yours.

“So, Francisco,” you smile over at him. “What do you have planned for this trip? I know you have some sort of plan laid out up there,” you tease and rap on his head softly, through the trucker cap resting there.

He blushes a little and looks away. “I don’t always have a plan.”

“Hey.” You turn his face back to yours by the chin. “You do and I absolutely love it. Now tell me about it, please, baby.”

Frankie removes his hat and runs a hand through his curls. “Well, I figured we could start the fire soon, cook dinner over it. It’ll get dark pretty quick. Then hang around the campfire, maybe play some of the games I packed.”

“Is a quiet tumble in the tent on the cards?” You ask him with a teasing grin, nudging his side.

He shrugs, jokingly, as if he’s considering it. “I don’t see why we couldn’t squeeze that in. We only have, oh… three hours of time in between these plans.”

“Then we’ll use all three of those hours,” you shrug and steal a kiss, smiling into his lips. “I love you. And I love it out here.” You were never a nature person before Frankie, usually preferring indoors adventures to hiking or camping. Frankie looks like he belongs out here, and he probably thinks he does. Even if you didn’t enjoy the fun of outdoors adventuring, you’d have at least one thing to enjoy: Frankie’s excitement and enthusiasm over it. “Thank you.”

Fox is curled at Frankie’s feet, and he bends over to scratch her ears, running his fingers through her scruffy fur. “Thank you, baby. For coming out here with me and putting up with all of this. I couldn’t ask for a better adventure partner.”

You do, indeed, cook dinner over the fire. You’d prepped all kinds of chopped vegetables to be grilled over an open flame, and had additionally packed pre-cooked hot dogs as well as s’mores ingredients. Frankie is a firm believer that it’s not camping if it doesn’t include graham crackers, chocolate bars, and marshmallows.

Luckily, your Frankie is a skilled griller. He always is, always has been. He takes care of the cooking part, since you prepared everything else, though he lets you hold the hot dogs over the fire to roast. “I feel like I’m at camp again,” you laugh as you slowly rotate the food over the fire.

Frankie is taking charge of the vegetables, expertly. They’re getting a beautiful char, you notice. “It’s much better, because you don’t have to sneak around to make out with your boyfriend at night, huh?” He teases and tosses you a grin.

“But I get my boyfriend all to myself,” you nod and confirm. “And I have my baby girl with me,” you coo as you rub Foxtrot’s head, where she’s resting at your side.

The meal is delicious, of course, when the two of you work together and each used your strong skills. Frankie slips bites to Fox when he thinks you’re not looking, of course, but it’s endearing, the way the dog’s big brown eyes mirror those looking down at her.

There’s not much conversation while you eat, mouths occupied with food rather than speaking. That’s alright. There’s plenty of time for that tonight and tomorrow.

The sun starts sinking lower when Frankie brings the marshmallows from the tent. “Guess what time it is!” He exclaims as he rips open the bag, skewering two marshmallows and holding them over the fire.

Like he’s a skilled griller, he’s also a wonderful marshmallow-toaster. Frankie toasts yours to perfection, just the way you like it, and you do your part as the s’more-sandwicher, shoving the marshmallow between the graham crackers and chocolate.

There’s no signal out here, and you agreed neither of you would use your phones unless an emergency happened. Frankie frowns as he sees your phone. “Hey. Put that away. Don’t use that.”

“There’s an emergency, Frankie,” you whine, opening the camera app with one hand and eating the sugary dessert with the other.

“And what’s that?” He asks, taking a bite of his s’more.

Strings of gooey marshmallow connect the sandwich to his lips, making him laugh, and you snap a picture at the perfect moment: Frankie’s closed-lipped smile as his s’more falls apart on him. “You’re too damn cute, that’s the emergency,” you laugh and set the photo as your lock screen, tossing it away.

Frankie’s schedule actually worked itself naturally. After the s’mores and a wet-wipe hand-washing to remove the endless marshmallow from Frankie’s hands, you find yourself sitting around the fire, no light left in the sky. When you look up, all you can see is inky blue and pine trees, the stars yet to make their nightly rise.

“I have a song request,” Frankie asks and raises his hand like a child in a classroom.

“Yes, Francisco?” You tease as you walk to the tent, grabbing your ukulele and returning with it, sitting back in your lawn chair with it. “Hit me.”

“Only The Good Die Young by Billy Joel. No, wait- Country Roads.”

Laughing, you noodle around with the strings for a moment. You knew this moment would come, and here’s the opportunity. “I can play all of those and more, Frankie. We’ll do the Billy Joel first,” you nod decisively.

Frankie sounds like the forest wolves at night when he sings along. He absolutely howls, taken away by the song, taken to a place where his voice isn’t just a little on the rougher end of good. He belts the words and dances along in his seat, like you do.

Then Country Roads. You thought the last one was bad before you hear Frankie’s booming voice echoing the ballad of West Virginia through seemingly the entire preserve. But you don’t care in the slightest. You sing along proudly, strumming your ukulele harder and harder until you’re sure you can’t add any more volume before snapping a string.

After the song, you pause and rest your ukulele flat on your lap. “Frankie, baby. Can I ask you something?”

He nods, smiling over at you. “Any time. What’s up, buttercup?” He asks, taking one of your hands and kissing the knuckles.

“Will you marry me?” You ask. The question is straight and to the point, blunt and honest. Your face conveys your hope, and the grandiose speech follows. “I love you beyond belief, Frankie. I love you almost as much as you love these woods. I know you love me too. I just… think it’s time. We’ll be perfect for it. What do you say?”

You can feel Frankie’s slightly-chapped lips curve into a smile against your hand. He’s grinning and then he’s crying, soft water droplets forming in the corners of his eyes. “Of course I’ll marry you,” he grins, grabbing your ukulele and setting it aside.

Once the ukulele is on the ground, Frankie stands in front of your chair and lifts you to your feet, kissing you with such fervor you can’t help but gasp. When he breaks away, you smile, eyes watering too. “I know it wasn’t the most elegant of proposals, but-”

“It was the most us,” Frankie cuts you off with a teary grin. “I would be honored to be your husband, my love. You really want me enough to do that?”

“Frankie,” you coo, cupping his face in your hand. “You are the best husband I could ever want, could ever dream for,” you assure him and kiss his nose gently.

The man laughs, wiping his tears away. “Then let’s get married,” he whoops excitedly, then lets out an excited shout to the woods. “We’re getting married!”

You laugh at his loud and booming declaration, but nothing can detract you for the love and joy in your heart.

When you and Frankie settle down in your chairs again, you pick up the ukulele and finish off with one last beautiful song that you and Frankie have always adored, with a title that truly fits: At Last.

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @princess76179 @starless-eyes-remain @tacticalsparkles

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie catfish morales x reader #francisco catfish morales x reader #francisco catfish morales #catfish morales x reader #catfish morales #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales #pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #frankie and charlie

112 notes · View notes

theres-an-impulstor-among-us · 3 years

Note

hooray for open ask box! how about Martyn, or Etho, or Ren seeing Skizz’s ghost on the altar?

hell yeah i love writing about Skizz, even in death :D

cw blood, dead body

…

Less than a day after Skizz’s abrupt death, Martyn returns to the crastle alone, with a sombre mission. His stomach drops when he sees Skizz’s body hanging upside down over the ramparts, exactly where it fell the moment Skizz died. It’s horrifying to see the blood still dripping down the walls of the crastle, the gaping wound in his chest clearly visible.

An arrow shoots into the ground at his feet just in front of the drawbridge, causing him to stop.

“What business do you have here, Red Army scum?” snarls Bdubs’s voice.

Martyn carefully lays his sword and shield on the ground, before standing back up with his hands raised to show he’s no longer armed. “I come in peace and I come alone.”

A pause follows this.

Martyn looks up and finds Bdubs’s face just visible through a slit window. Another face can be seen through the slit window just to the left but this one is less visible, so Martyn can’t identify who it is. He suspects it might be Impulse.

“What do you want?” Bdubs demands, though his voice is less hostile than before.

“All I want is to retrieve Skizzle’s body so we can bury him.”

Another pause.

This time, a different voice comes from the castle: “His body stays here.”

“Scott-,” Martyn begins.

“No, I’m not budging.” Scott’s voice is full of grief and anger. “He killed my husband and my friend. I want his body displayed exactly where it is. You’re lucky Grian and Bdubs talked me out of slicing his head off and displaying it on a stake.”

Nausea rises in Martyn’s throat at the grisly image. “Please,” he says, almost begging. “He died in battle just like Timmy and Cleo; he deserves a proper burial. We… We need to say goodbye to him.”

“Do it here,” Scott snarls, “cuz I’m not budging.”

Bdubs’s face disappears from the slit window, but his voice is still just about audible to Martyn on the ground. “Scott, I think we should give them Skizz’s body.”

“What?!” Scott’s voice snaps back. “Why would you even consider that?! Don’t you care that he murdered your best friend?!”

“Yes, but I’m not thinking of Skizz,” responds Bdubs. “I’m thinking of Cleo. She’s been avenged already, Scott. Jimmy’s been avenged. Do you really think either of them would want us to deny him being laid to rest, despite everything he did? What’s the purpose of that? Skizz is dead, Scott, and seeing his body on display is only going to remind us of our losses every time we look at it. In order to start healing, you gotta let go of your anger.”

Bdubs’s voice cracks and he says something else that Martyn can’t quite hear.

Martyn waits anxiously, wondering what will happen. He’s half expecting Scott to just shoot him there and then, or at the very least destroy Skizz’s body out of bitterness and anger.

But eventually, the door to the crastle opens and Bdubs appears, holding a crossbow at his side. “You can come in and get it,” he says. “Tango will help you take it back to Dogwarts.”

Martyn lets out a quiet sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

As he crosses the drawbridge, Bdubs gives him an odd look. “You’re really okay with walking into the enemy base on your own with no weapons? What if this was a trap and we just killed you right here?”

“I did consider that possibility,” Martyn admits. “But I decided that my mission is more important.”

Bdubs nods slowly. “Okay. Fair enough.”

Martyn follows Bdubs up to the first floor, where Tango is already starting to pull Skizz’s body inside. Now that he’s closer, Martyn can see that Skizz’s eyes are still open, so he kneels beside his body and gently closes them.

“We can use one of the coffins outside to transport him,” says Tango, his voice low and serious. “And you can keep it to bury him in.”

“Thank you,” says Martyn. “After we bury him, you’re welcome to visit his grave whenever you wish.”

“What about me?” Impulse asks quietly, standing on the upper staircase.

Martyn turns and looks him dead in the eye. “Like I said. Tango, you’re welcome to visit anytime.”

Impulse blanches as Tango nods gratefully.

…

It takes the two of them less than ten minutes to carry the coffin to Dogwarts. As they get close to its walls, Etho and Ren dash out to meet them.

Etho takes the burden from Tango, who steps aside to a safe distance, keeping a wary eye on Ren.

“Thank you for returning Skizzle to us,” Ren says, all hints of his former fake accent and overly dramatic tone gone.

“Of course. I hated seeing him left up there like that.”

“I know you can’t give anything away but can I just ask… how’s… how’s Impulse?” Etho asks hesitantly.

Tango briefly makes eye contact with him but has to look away. “I wouldn’t hold out any hope that he can be saved if I were you. He wasn’t just there when Skizz died; he watched him die and did nothing to help or comfort him. There’s no coming back from that.”

“Oh my god…” Ren breathes out, suppressing a shudder. “How did this happen, Tango? What turned him into such a monster?”

“Trust me, Ren…” Tango turns to face Ren, a sombre expression on his face. “...I wish I knew. Anyway, I’m gonna head back now. Give him a good sendoff.”

“We will,” promises Ren. “Thank you.”

Etho and Martyn carry the coffin into Dogwarts and to the site that they have already picked and prepared for the burial. All three of them lower the coffin into the freshly dug grave and then kneel down beside it: Etho to the left, Martyn to the right, and Ren directly in front.

“Today, we celebrate the life of our good friend and loyal ally Skizzleman,” Ren begins. “Right from the start, even before he fought for us in battle, he proved himself a dedicated friend to Renchanting. He provided me with shelter when I was nothing but a lowly travelling merchant. His leather made the book that created the first enchantment table we ever used. And his cobblestone helped build the walls of Dogwarts that still stand to this day. He took care of us, he fought for us, he killed for us, and in the end, he died for us.” He addresses the coffin directly. “Thank you, Skizzle. For everything.”

He clears his throat. “Does- Does anyone else have anything they want to say?”

Etho nods and gently tosses the allium he’s holding onto the coffin. “Nothing special, just… Thank you, Skizz. For always being there for me.”

“I have some things to say,” says Martyn quietly. “I honestly didn’t think much of Skizz at first. I thought he was a nice guy but not someone I could see myself even being friends with. But he became so much more than that. We shared the same drive, the same passion and commitment to our convictions. When the two of us were out there fighting, it was like we’d known each other for years. But most importantly, he would always put his life before others, even mine, and even after he turned red. He was fun to be around and he always made me laugh.” His voice cracks. “I’ll miss you, Skizz.”

Twirling the tulip he brought from outside, he drops it into the grave, on top of Etho’s allium.

Ren wordlessly starts to scoop dirt over the coffin, and Etho and Martyn join him. Finally, once the coffin is properly covered, Ren plants his flower - a poppy salvaged from Skizz’s destroyed home, over the top of it and sits back.

After a moment, he starts to sing softly: “Fill to me the parting glass, and drink a health whate'er befalls. And gently rise and softly call: good night and joy be to you all. But since it fell unto my lot, that I should rise and you should not, I gently rise and softly call: good night and joy be to you all.” (this song is The Parting Glass, sung by The High Kings)

This breaks the dam. Martyn hurriedly rises to his feet and flees towards the altar, tears falling freely from his eyes. He drops to his hands and knees in the centre of the stone platform, hanging his head and crying openly.

He hasn’t cried like this in a very VERY long time. It’s just so unfair to him that Skizz, one of the kindest people he knows, is gone so soon from the server. There’s so much he wishes he could have said back there. How he blames himself for not stopping Skizz from charging in there, how much he dreams of slaughtering Grian for taking Skizz away from them, how he wishes it was him who died instead. But he couldn’t manage it.

A chill suddenly runs down his spine, causing him to involuntarily look up.

His heart skips a beat.

Standing a few blocks away on the altar is the ghostly image of Skizzleman, back to normal except for a slight magenta tinge to him. He’s smiling kindly down at Martyn, his eyes sparking with a kind of energy that he hasn’t had for a long time.

He holds out his hand to Martyn, who hesitantly reaches for it. Despite not being able to touch it, something helps Martyn to his feet, some kind of invisible energy.

Martyn gazes into Skizz’s face and manages a smile. “Goodbye, Skizz,” he whispers. “Good luck.”

The words “you too” echo in Martyn’s ears, not spoken by anything of this world.

“Martyn,” calls Ren’s voice. “Are you coming?”

Martyn automatically turns to look at Ren. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

When he looks back, he’s alone on the altar.

#3rd life smp #3rdlifesmp #skizzleman #inthelittlewood #rendog #etho #tangotek #vaunna’s requests

80 notes · View notes

demibats · 3 years

Text

Unsteady - BENEATH THE BLOOD MOON

summary: Bludhaven and Gotham take a fearful turn when a new threat is posed in both Batman and Nightwing’s territories, neither of them equipped for it. That is, until Dick crosses paths with an unlikely new ally...

word count: 4k warnings: brief mention of violence.

A cool breeze ruffled Dick’s hair as he looked over the city of Bludhaven, way up on the tops of the buildings. He’d been hunched over, listening intently on his police scanner for far too long. It was too quiet of a night. Not even the common street criminal was causing a disturbance. The silence was far more vexing than any goon he’d come into contact with over the past week.

Dick tried not to let the little noises pester his paranoia further, though it was hard. The sound of an animal rustling in a garbage can or a car’s horn was enough to make him jump. Dick stood, taking in a deep breath before he flipped from one roof ledge to a lower one. Landing with a hard thud, he turned over his back, eyeing the spot he’d just left and the gap below. Below, consumed in the darkness, he swore he heard voices.

Dick turned and peaked down, seeing nothing in the bleak emptiness between crumbling buildings. He continued his typical patrol around the tops of the buildings, looking over the city. It was the first night in months that not a thing gave him a good chase. While he felt like he deserved a break, the sudden change in activity felt odd. It was as if an entire world of crime just stood at a stand still, completely unmoving as Dick traveled the rooftops of Bludhaven.

Faintly, Dick heard a grunt and blows landing. It was quiet, but Dick’s trained ears focused on it and could make out a cocky ‘that all you got?’ He did a front somersault off the ledge and slid down the opposite wall, skillfully as to not disturb the others in the alleyway. He turned on his heels and crouched down behind a rusty dumpster, peeking his head out to survey the scene.

A woman was facing with her back toward him, striking whatever was in front of her with her palm, upward into her attacker’s nose. Jesus Chirst, Dick thought, usually now is the time I have to come in. She spun around and delivered what should’ve been a near-fatal kick into the attacker’s ribs, but he only stumbled before throwing his hand into the woman’s head. She took barely a second to steady herself before grabbing her attacker’s next hit by the wrist to twist it upward. At an impressive speed, she unsheathed what looked like a wooden stake and plunged it into the chest of her attacker. Dick caught a glimpse of the man’s face, seeing it contorted and molded with yellow eyes before it burst into dust.

He was in awe. Of all the metahumans and villains he’s faced throughout his entire life, he’d never come across something quite like that. Maybe he’d read about them but seeing one perish in person was an entirely new ballgame. He stood up from his spot, stepping out from behind it, but didn’t trek toward the woman. She was relatively new and, to be frank, scary. “I’m gonna take a wild guess and say that maybe now isn’t the time to ask questions?” Dick spoke clearly, despite being unsure of this new vigilante, if that’s what she was.

She flinched at his loud voice and whipped around, fists clenched. When her eyes laid on him, her mouth dropped, but her shock didn’t last long and was soon replaced with some form of annoyance, “Nightwing, is it? A little birdie told me to watch out for you. Well, another little birdie.” She said, poking fun at his alter ego.

“In the way that we’d be brawling like your little friend or just as a precaution?” Dick quipped.

“Neither. Just a piece of information I needed to have before I moved here.” Her shoulders relaxed as she walked toward him, “We done here?” Her shoulder bumped into his and which only spurred Dick’s talking on more.

Before he could get a word in, she said, “You were watching for a while before I dusted that creep. Is it a part of the job to leave capable dames to their own devices now? I definitely could’ve used the help.” Her tone was sarcastic, Dick couldn’t tell if she meant it, or was just annoyed simply by his presence.

Dick blinked a few times before answering, “I have no idea what that was. Or what or who you are. I was a little taken aback, needed time to plan my next move.” he responded, following her out of the alley.

She stopped in her tracks and turned around, narrowing her eyes on him. She examined his face for a moment and Dick grew anxious that she was trying to figure out his identity for a split second. Shaking off the uneasy feeling, he furrowed his eyebrows. “You really have no idea what I just killed?”

The fact she’d said ‘what’ instead of ‘who’ returned the uneasy feeling, but this one was different, “No, I don’t. Mind telling me? This seems like crucial information I should’ve known when I moved here.” He mocked, but the woman could only smirk at it.

“It was a vampire. Like, a genuine dracula. Blood-sucking demon of the night, fangs and all. There have been sightings and nests popping in Atlantic City, Gotham and Bludhaven more and more recently.” She explained, continuing her walk down the empty street. Dick didn’t realize he was supposed to follow her.

He jogged up to her, slowing down and matching speeds with her pace. Dick never walked through the neighborhoods at night, too busy flipping from the rooftops to realize how things looked down here at night. Gazing at the woman through his peripherals, he sucked in a breath, “And you’re.. What? Just doing a public service by driving stakes through their hearts?” he asked, question after question popping into his head. If she was a civilian, where’d she learn how to fight and defend herself like that? Why was she absorbing blows that should’ve knocked her on her ass? How did she know all this? Especially that these supposed nests were in Bludhaven?

“I’m the Slayer. It’s my destiny, or whatever, to hunt them down and send ‘em back to hell.” She clarified, sounding less than enthused.

Dick chuckled, “Whoa there, try to contain your excitement.”

Rolling her eyes, she picked up speed, wanting to shake the nuisance that was Nightwing, “Look, I’ll go my way, you’ll go yours. There’s no need to be all buddy-buddy. I’ll kick vampire ass, you’ll beat down criminals, simple as that.”

Dick stopped on their walk, grabbing her wrist just for her to rip it from his clutches, “Would you listen for one goddamn second?” he raised his voice, surprising her, “If these creatures are as dangerous as I’m thinking, and to the extent you said, you’ll need help. This doesn’t sound like much of a cakewalk. I’m not an idiot who wears a mask and punches cat-buglers, okay? There are more important skills than brute strength, ones I have, that could help you.”

He could tell she was considering it. It took only a few seconds for her to answer, “This isn’t something that’s a team effort. I’m the slayer, and whether I like it or not, I have to do this on my own.”

Dick let her go off on her way this time. He couldn’t wrap her head around the events of that night, especially not the fact that Bludhaven and Gotham, his home and former home, were riddled with creatures like the one she’d just fought. Grotesque, monstrous creatures that were preying on the innocent the way that they were. He feared for the citizens of Bludhaven, knowing that he might not be able to protect them from the vampires he knew nothing about. Sighing heavily, he took out his phone and dialed a number he hadn’t saved but could recite from heart at any given time. It only rang once before a familiar voice spoke. “Master Dick, it’s been too long.” Alfred chimed.

“I miss you too, Alfred. Tell him I’m driving up. There’s something brewing in both our cities and we might need all hands on deck for this,” he paused, “I’m gonna send you some information of my current location, can you please use the cameras in the area for facial recognition for the woman I was with tonight?”

“I’ll hop to it, Master Dick. I’ll let him know, as well and make preparations for your sleeping arrangements.” Alfred spoke in his typical calm and calculating, yet stern tone.

“I’ll get a motel, just tell Bru-”

Alfred cut him off, “I’m afraid not, Master Dick. You will be staying in the manor and there’ll be no arguments made against it. The facial recognition you requested will be done within the hour.”

Rolling his eyes, Dick smiled, “Yeah, alright. See you soon, Alfred. Thank you.” And with that, Dick ended the call, inhaling sharply. His night just became a lot more eventful than he could’ve ever guessed.

“Fuck.”

-----

Dick pulled into the long stretch of driveway through the gates, his tongue running over his teeth. It’d been some time since he’d been home and it still felt cold and distant. He didn’t plan on staying too long, but would stay as long as needed to research and learn about any lore pertaining to vampires and ‘The Slayer’. Bruce had more money than God and enough books to educate a small community, some of those might even be older than God.

The sprawling grounds of Wayne Manor, while being the apple of any remotely smart person’s eye, made Dick feel more alone than he ever had. However, he did what he learned as a child, and pushed those feelings down, trying to focus on the task at hand. After stepping out of his car, now parked in the garage, he met up with Alfred. That old rascal always brought a smile to Dick’s face, even after the time he’d seen him. “Nice to see you, Master Dick. Master Wayne is waiting for you. The facial recognition was successful.”

Dick couldn’t help but grin at the butler before clapping him on the shoulder, “Thanks, Alfred. I owe you one!” He shouted as he booked it toward the indoor entrance to the cave.

The manor was always remarkably clean, thanks to Alfred ( and sometimes Bruce ) . With Alfred’s older age, you would think that he was ready to give up the butler life, but there was no way he would, not while Bruce was running rampant in the streets wearing a cape and cowl. Dick waited patiently in the elevator ride down, his hands fidgeting at his sides. He shoved them into his jean-pockets as the door opened, revealing the dimly lit cave.

Bruce was standing before the bat computer, pictures and records up on the large screen. He was hunched over the tabletop in front of him, rather than sitting in the chair. He wore a black tshirt and dark jeans, rather than the full form of the batsuit or head-to-toe formal wear. Bruce heard Dick’s footsteps and straightened his back, turning toward the younger man. “You look different,” Bruce said in monotone.

Dick chuckled, “Yeah, living on your own does that, I guess.” He knew that Bruce wasn’t one for physical affection but that didn’t stop Dick from giving him a brief hug, which to his surprise, Bruce reciprocated for the short while it happened.

“So, did you pin-point our mystery girl?” Dick said, leaning against the counter, arms crossed, eyeing Bruce as he pulled up what looked like an ID photo.

“Y/N L/N. Goes to a community college in Bludhaven, lives alone. She previously lived in Chicago, graduated from high school, got accepted into a community college there, held a steady job, but moved here after her mother was killed eight months ago. Coroner’s report says animal attack but given the information you sent, I’m guessing that whatever she fought off last night is one of the things responsible for the murder of her mother. Who is she to you, Dick?” Bruce slowly turned to face Dick, raising his eyebrows in curiosity.

Dick shrugged, “I’m interested in her line of work.” He said, but Bruce knew exactly what Dick wasn’t saying. He let it slide, obviously not wanting to open that can of worms.

“I’ve pulled up every known instance of vampires over the past twenty years and… a lot of it is complete nonsense, Dick. Very slim picking of what compares to Y/N’s vampires. Something about Twilight-” Bruce was about to continue but Dick cut him off.

“Steer clear of anything marked under that, you won’t get anywhere.” Dick turned away from the computer and walked toward the dark oak bookshelf away from where Bruce stood.

“And where are you going?” Bruce asked.

Dick turned over his shoulder as he walked, “There has gotta be something in one of your dusty old books that’s more helpful than you skimming teenage fanlore.” He chuckled, eyes running over the spines of all the books. He didn’t have too much to go on, but anything would help them at that moment.

Bruce and Dick spent hours researching vampire lore, hoping something would point them in the direction of some sort of slayer prophecy. Of course, it would’ve been much easier if Y/N complied with Dick in the first place, but she was dead set on avoiding Nightwing like the plague. While Bruce appreciated literature, he knew how to find needed information on the web better than anything else. It bothered him that he wasn’t coming up with much, but he’d never tell Dick that.

“Any luck?” Bruce called out.

“Not on the slayer, but this volume and the one like it talks all about what they are and the lore behind them,” he paused for a moment, then realized Bruce was waiting for him to continue, “They’re essentially demons, soulless creatures from Hell. They can only inhabit earth if they possess a human corpse. Apparently they’re considered hybrids, less pure than other demon species.”

Dick looked up from the pages of the worn book, seeing Bruce look absolutely lost in thought. He cleared his throat, hoping he’d have some sort of feedback. “What are they doing in Bludhaven?” Bruce asked.

“Add that to the pile of answers we don’t have.” Dick huffed.

The two men were up into the early hours of the morning, almost 5AM before Dick had a breakthrough in one of the thousands of books in the cave. “Here!” he called out, getting Bruce’s attention. The older man quickly made his way to the table that Dick had been hunched over, reading and researching.

“Every generation, one girl is chosen to be the Slayer. She wields the power to fight demons, vampires and other forces of darkness. Apparently the first slayer actually had the gifts of a vampire given to her by said vampire.” Dick read.

Bruce was silent.

“Are you going to say anything? We’ve been at this for hours and I finally find something and you’re a statue.” Dick was annoyed and tired and beyond ready to burn every book in the manor and then go right to sleep.

“That’s just it, Dick. We’ve been at this the entire night and all we’ve learned is that some otherworldly force picks a woman to fight the undead. We’re still at square one in my book. Get some sleep, we’ll regroup and pick it up again after some rest.” Bruce said, turning to shut down the computer.

Dick grumbled, gathering up all the books he hadn’t read through, along with the one who explained who the Slayer was, and went to his old bedroom. He would probably only get a few hours of sleep before he would be up and at it again. He needed to find more out before going back to Bludhaven to find her again. He wanted to be prepared, knowledgeable. Dick knew that there was no way Y/N would let him help if she had to teach him all there was to know about vampires. He still didn’t know if she could be swayed even if he had already learned.

As soon as Dick hit the mattress, books surrounding him, he was out like a light. He hadn’t pushed himself to the extreme of staying up over 24 hours in a long time and he felt like he would go insane from lack of sleep. That first night back at Wayne Manor, Dick had nightmares. He was in his Nightwing suit, except for his mask, standing in an alleyway that seemed like it went on infinitely on both ends. He tried to run one direction but felt like he was getting nowhere. On all sides of him he heard someone crying out for help and a hiss that felt too familiar. The cries continued as did the hisses for what seemed like mere minutes, but when Dick opened his eyes, he’d realized it was nearly three o’clock.

He felt like he’d been hit by a semi-truck, or maybe a large pick-up at the least. There was a cup of coffee next to his bed on his nightstand, still steaming. After all these years, ALfred had a knack for knowing when his boys would be awake. Dick grabbed it sluggishly and took a small sip as he sat up. The room was still and quiet, while he enjoyed the peace, sometimes it was deafening. After he’d downed most of the coffee, he pulled his shirt off and headed to the shower.

-----

“Let’s just say that she does allow you to work with her, will you keep me informed?” Bruce posed the question as Dick looked over yet again, another book. He peaked over the pages of the book he was reading, lips on the rim of his coffee mug.

Bruce looked like he’d gotten enough sleep for the both of them, had his healthy breakfast and already did his eight mile run. It was appalling how easy it was for Bruce to hide his fatigue, while Dick, Jason and Tim had always looked tired, constantly.

“If what she said is true, that Gotham as well as Bludhaven, has these nests, then yes. You’ll need to stay in the loop and be hypervigilant during patrol. These things are no joke, Bruce.” Dick answered, “Mind if I take the books with me back home? I’ll scan over any information I deem important.”

Bruce nodded, but before Dick could exit the kitchen to pack up his belongings, the older man called out, “Be careful.” Bruce might not express his fondness or affection for his son, but he knows that Dick knows exactly what his simple words mean.

Dick turned back and nodded. “You too.”

The drive back to Bludhaven was tense. Dick knew he’d have to betray what little trust he’d managed to create the first night he met Y/N by essentially breaking into her apartment. He fought with himself mentally about his next move. He still had research and planning to do if was going to seriously enter this world. He was too stubborn to just let Y/N tell him no. He didn’t care if it was her destiny to battle these things alone. He was going to make sure she wasn’t on her own and that he upheld his oath to protect Bludhaven.

Within the wall of his Bludhaven apartment, he stood in the kitchen, unmoved as he pondered his options. There weren’t many. It was either he’d help Y/N and go to her apartment, maybe get his ass kicked if she was startled or not help her and go about his regular vigilante activities. It shouldn’t even be a question. Dick tried to put his impulsivity aside, tried to think before jumping immediately into this unprepared. Y/N told him to stay out of it, he should respect that. But what if it becomes too much for her to handle on her own? Wouldn’t she rather have an ally? Someone to depend on? There had to be a reason why she was so harsh about it.

A million more questions spurred Dick’s thoughts on, but in the end, he decided he’d rather have her be pissed off at him interfering with the slayer business than her, laying in an alleyway, dead because of some demon. He’d set out to find her before it got dark, he didn’t want to risk getting a wooden stake to the torso because she couldn’t see the black and blue suit.

He donned the Nightwing garb as he seemingly flew over the rooftops, cartwheeling, backhandspringing, flipping, somersaulting all over the ledges and landings to get to her apartment which was about ten blocks from his own. From the roof of a building opposite to her apartment complex, he could see into her living room through a window. The curtains were parted and the soft lighting illuminated Y/N on her couch, a bowl of cereal in her hands and a textbook in her lap. The domestic scene almost completely masked her slayer personality. She simply was a college student, trying her hardest to be normal, plagued with the responsibility of protecting innocent life.

Dick slid down onto the fire escape below him before leaping to one on Y/N’s building, careful not to cause any reason for a passerby to look up and see him. Perched on her fire escape, he carefully knocked on the glass of the window. She nearly jumped ten feet in the air, almost spilling her cereal. Looking over to her window, her expression showed pure confusion. Dick was surprised, he expected blind rage.

Getting off the couch, Y/N placed her cereal and textbook on her coffee table before storming over to the window, sliding it open. “What the hell? Are you stalking me now?” She whisper-shouted.

Dick shook his head, “No, no. It seems like that but I promise that’s not the case.”

Y/N sighed deeply, clearly unamused. She remained silent, crossing her arms as she stepped out of the way of the window frame, “Come on in.”

Dick slowly climbed into her apartment, hunched over for a brief moment before standing tall, scanning the room. It was simple and neat. She had multiple potted succulents and a few framed photos on the wall. She had a couch and a bean bag in her living room as well as a small tv stand and coffee table, which looked to be covered in books and paperwork. It wasn’t at all what he’d expected it to be like.

Before he got lost in thought about her apartment decor, he turned to her, “I read about the vampires and slayer lore. We didn’t have much to go by, but I found out the basics.” Dick could tell she was on the verge of interrupting, “Let me finish. I know that it’s your so called destiny to do this on your own, but I say fuck that. I want to help and technically speaking, if I’m not working with you, I’d just be hunting them down on my own. We can work together. Two minds are greater than one. You don’t have to babysit or coddle me, I get the gist of what you’re up against. Let me lighten the load. If you don’t like working together after some time, I’ll hit the road. Just give me a chance to show you I can be worth your while.”

Inhaling sharply, still with her arms crossed she spoke finally, “You’re not gonna leave me alone are you?”

Dick grinned, “Couldn’t get rid of me if ya tried.”

Feeling defeat sink in, Y/N rolled her eyes and walked back over to her couch and coffee table, resuming her spot where she was studying. “The second you get on my nerves, I’m kicking your ass.” She said, not a hint of sarcasm in her tone.

“I won’t. Scout’s honor.” he did the hand salute thing before taking a seat next to her on the couch.

Once more, she rolled her eyes and felt the weight of her decision start to sink in.

#nightwing x reader #nightwing #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson fic #nightwing fic #dc #batman #batboys #batfamily #red hood #red robin #tim drake #jason todd #robin #nightwing x y/n #nightwing reader insert #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson reader insert

47 notes · View notes

untaemedqueen · 4 years

Text

Merry Christmas Kitten

Mafia!Jimin x Wife!Reader

Genre: Mafia!AU, Drabble, Fluffy Babies

WordCount: 2K

Warnings: Suggestive Actions and Words, Fluff, Crying Jimin

A/N: Merry Christmas my TBC/TLD fans!

Based On The Book: The Bird Cage/The Lions Den

"What're you up to?"

The voice draws your attention and you smile at your husband as he enters the apartment.

"Putting the presents under the tree before the kids wake up." you whisper softly, pointing to the long hallway where your children sleep comfortably.

"Oh, you're my Santa Claus this year, Kitten?" Jimin jeers sweetly, unbuttoning his suit jacket at a leisurely pace.

"Well I don't have a big belly so maybe a Mrs. Claus?" you joke, tilting your head.

His chuckle resounds throughout your new living room. His arms encircle you while his plush lips brush against your temple.

"Are you upset you can't be my Santa this year?" your husband inquires.

You snort gently, pulling away from him to look up at his handsome face. His silhouette is highlighted by the holiday lights that wrap around the large pine tree.

"What do you mean? Am I upset that I'm not pregnant?" you ask, feeling his hands run below your cardigan.

His skin is warm against yours and you never felt more relaxed.

"Yeah, I know you miss it." he murmurs, tilting your chin up with his index finger.

"Four kids is plenty, plus we're busy all the time. So it's not a total loss, I can do without it." you reply with a gentle smile.

"Wow, how did I get so lucky with you? Hmm, Kitten?" your husband coos.

He presses his lips to yours again and you melt in his arms so easily. He nibbles on your bottom lip, lifting you easily into his arms.

His walk to the couch is short and quick. He isn't shy about plopping you down onto the comfortable piece of furniture.

"My pretty Kitten." he whispers, running his thumb over your bottom lip.

He wrinkles his nose as he looks down at you. You're still the most gorgeous woman he's ever known. He's never gotten over how you're the first and only woman he's ever put any stake into.

When he steps away from you to pour himself a glass of whisky, you turn your attention to the large bay windows of the living room.

The balcony as well as the windowsills are covered in fresh blankets of snow. The glass of the windows themselves are frosted and hazy from the warmth inside the large apartment.

The glow from the streetlights leaves a pleasant shine to the snow covered cars and pavement. The sight fills you with joy. You only started to enjoy Christmas when your children were born. To see them so excited each year to see what Santa Claus has bought them is the highlight of your December month.

Although you're coming to the realization now that Hawon is beginning to understand that these presents she receives on the winter holiday are not from a very rotund man that lives on the North Pole but from her two loving parents. Such is the product of having a nine year old daughter.

You've become used to your kids not wanting to sleep on Christmas Eve, the amount of sugar combined with the excitement of the morning after and the giddiness from playing with their cousins is completely normal to you. You're used to them waking up at the crack of dawn, screaming for both you and Jimin to wake up.

But this Christmas is special, in ways unimaginable.

"You want a glass of wine, Kitten?" your husband asks, plopping down beside you.

You shake your head, smiling at him as he runs his hands over your bare thighs.

"You made the new apartment so beautiful. I'm sorry I've been busy. It's been a lot of work to win the Busan Police over to our side."

You can see how guilty Jimin looks and it breaks your heart. For years, everything he's done has been for your family. And you're more than grateful.

Sitting up on your knees, you give him a warm smile. You wrap your arms around his neck, taking in the rich scent of his cologne.

"Never apologize for taking care of us, Chim. We're so lucky to have such a good man like you in this family." you say honestly.

He snorts gently, placing his hands on your hips as you straddle him.

When his hands run over your nightgown, the silk draws him in like this is the first time he's touched you.

"How are you always so perfect? Hmm? You've given me four beautiful babies, you've made my heart swell more than anything and anyone. You're unreal. Like a dream." your husband mumbles, leaning in for a kiss.

His lips are incredibly soft against yours, they move in time with yours perfectly. It's sensual, addictive and so perfectly Park Jimin.

When he pulls away, his eyes focus on the clock above your Christmas tree.

"Merry Christmas, Kitten." he whispers against your cheek.

"Merry Christmas, Daddy." he groans gently at the pet name, pulling your hips closer to him.

You gasp gently when he nibbles at your collarbone. His touch is simply magic, you can feel a whimper pass your lips as he holds you so tightly to him.

“Fuck,” he curses softly, completely abandoning his whisky for something even more intoxicating.

His fingers pull down the thin straps of your black nightgown, kissing at the skin just below them.

You hiss gently when your sex brushes against him. He takes this time to flip you over, your hair splays over the large couch cushions and you gasp gently at the sudden shift.

“Goddamn, Kitten. You’re so beautiful.” his voice is filled with wonder.

His hands shove up your gown, exposing your bottom half to him and he’s very quickly becoming delirious with arousing intentions.

“Who do you belong to?” he prods, raising an eyebrow as he looks up at you.

“You, Daddy. Only you.” you whimper, running your fingers over the dark green dress shirt he wears.

“That’s right.” he mumbles, bending down to kiss you.

His hands reach higher, fumbling with the silk material enwrapping you. He can only think of one thing -- you engulfing him in your pleasure.

“God, I love you.” he groans, pressing his hard erection to your loins.

“I love you too,” you reply breathlessly.

He’s stolen the oxygen from your lungs and all that remains is a coiling desire that blooms in your belly.

When you lift up to unbutton his shirt, his hands leave your sides to inch up to your breasts. His fingertips graze your stomach and he hums gently.

His lips find yours once again, biting your bottom lip for entrance and you accept immediately. He kisses you languidly, there’s no need to rush he would wait a million years for you.

His eyebrows furrow as he gasps gently against your lips.

Your skin feels so soft in his hands. Like proving dough.

Something is different. You’re usually soft but not this buttery and rich.

“Kitten.” he grumbles against your lips.

You hum inquisitively pulling away from him to card your fingers through his hair. He sits up on his knees, completely forgetting the task at hand.

“What’s wrong?” you mumble, pressing the tips of your fingers to your swollen lips.

Your husband sits back on his heels, the cogs in his mind slowly turning. When his hands grip at your breasts, he tilts his head. Your bottom lip purchases between your teeth, your eyelids lowering with lustful intentions.

He squeezes them while raising an eyebrow. You do your best not to flinch, but it’s a difficult task. They’re swollen and painfully heavy.

When Jimin notices your scrunched up expression, he scoffs gently.

“You have something to tell me?” he quips, eyes widening.

“No. I don’t think so,” you reply, unbuttoning his shirt with dexterous fingers.

“Kitten,” he chides softly.

He lifts you up easily, discarding the silk nightgown from your body.

You hide the knowing smirk that wants to grace your features quite well.

“Why are your tits so swollen?” he mutters, sucking a breath in through his teeth.

“Not sure.” you breathe out, pushing the shirt off of his body.

His hands trail lower and you sigh gently.

“Fuck me,” you whine, tugging at his suit pants.

He doesn’t reply, his curious mind already coming to multiple conclusions as to why you feel so different beneath him.

“Chim!” you huff.

“Shhh!” he silences you.

His hands are tentative as they reach your stomach. His digits flex nervously and you raise an eyebrow at how unsure he is.

You would think this is his first child and not his fifth.

When he presses his hands to your womb, his eyes flutter shut. “Your womb is hard.” he observes with silent wonder.

“Oh, really? That’s weird.” you mutter, holding a giggle back.

His skin stays planted to your stomach for what feels like forever and you pout at his stillness. He’s like a goddamn statue.

“I thought you were going to give me Christmas sex!” you whinge, sitting up.

“Are you pregnant, Kitten?” he inquires, already knowing the answer.

You look over at the clock again before sighing audibly.

“Fine,” you grumble, standing up off the couch.

His eyes follow you, your outline is blurry from the joyous tears that threaten to spill over his cheeks.

“K-Kitten?” your husband’s voice cracks and you snort gently to yourself.

Bending down to the bottom of the tree, you pull out a small box from the midst of other large packages and toys wrapped up for your children.

Turning to him, you press the box to your chest.

He whimpers gently, opening his hands like a baby for the box. “Are you pregnant for me again?” he asks once more.

You smile warmly at him, tossing him the box which he catches easily with one hand.

“Just tell me, I like to hear it from your lips.” he chides, ripping the wrapping paper off with a speed that could rival Usain Bolt.

He takes a sharp breath between his teeth as he looks down at the small white cardboard box.

His eyes flit from you to the package in his lap that feels as light as a feather but has the importance of the heaviest weight.

“Kitten,” he breathes out.

He doesn’t know what to do. Like most times he’s assumed you’re pregnant. But, even when he’s simply assumed it, he’s always been right.

You haven’t been actively trying and he’s been so busy lately since you’ve all moved to Busan that it hasn’t even flitted past his thoughts. Which is why this is the biggest shocker to him.

He seems to hold his breath as he lifts the lid of the box in question.

The living room is silent apart from the sounds of rain in the distance you play for Minseok to sleep easier.

Jimin's hands shake as he pries the wrapping paper away from the contents of the box.

A loud sob rips from your husband. His hands cover his face while he cries happily.

You fold your arms over your breasts, laughing at his emotional state.

"Kitten," he whimpers.

Wiping his face, your husband looks through the box of presents.

He doesn't even know what to look at first. The pregnancy test that say positive is his first glance. Then his second glance falls on the sonogram picture in the middle of the box.

He cries softly, pulling the picture from the box. "Come here," he beckons you, opening his arms.

With a giggle, you walk over to Jimin. His arms wrap around you like needy vines.

His cheek mushes against your hardened womb and you call feel the tears that fall and coat your skin.

"Aigo," you whisper, running your hands over the back of his neck.

"I'm so sorry I didn't notice, Kitten. I'm so sorry," he apologizes profusely, turning his head so his forehead rests against you.

"I bought the baby a little stocking." you whisper with a smile.

He hums cutely, unable to form words as his happiness floods through him.

Bending over him, you pull the stocking out of the small white box.

Wiping his tears away, he narrows his eyes at the letters along the stocking.

'Park Baby #5'

He chuckles softly, looking up at you like you tether him to this planet. His eyes are so soft, so completely adoring you.

He stands tall, pressing his hand to your stomach as he bends down. His lips are gentle against you, kissing you with unbridled love and adoration.

"I love you." he whispers.

"I love you, too." you reply, handing him the stocking.

He looks down at it, a cute pout forming on his features.

"I can't believe it," he mutters, walking over to the fireplace.

It's then that he notices a seventh hook above the roaring brick opening.

You're such a slick woman. It's incredible.

When he hangs the small stocking, he feels his heart race at the sight. You've always been such an impressive lady.

"Merry Christmas Kitten." he swoons.

"Merry Christmas Daddy," you reply with a wide smile.

He falls to his knees before you, kissing your flat stomach and you can all but die right then and there. He's perfect and he's yours.

"I can't believe I didn't notice. I'm so sorry." he whispers against your skin.

You snort gently, tilting your head. "Now you know."

He nods in agreement, his eyes fluttering closed at the new information.

Moving to Busan is the best thing you've ever done, in your opinion.

"So… are we not having sex now? Or?" you find yourself asking.

He laughs gently, looking up at you as he places his chin against your stomach.

"Of course I'm going to fuck my pregnant wife, are you insane? I need to thank you for making me the happiest man alive." he retorts, standing up.

You grip onto his belt, pulling him toward your bedroom. "With your cock?"

"Yes, Kitten. I'm going to thank you with my cock." he mumbles, wrapping his arms around you and trudging behind you to the bedroom.

#tbc #tld #mafia!jimin #drabble #merry christmas kitten #mafia!jimin x you #mafia!jimin x reader #mafia!jimin x wife #mafia!bts

354 notes · View notes

hughjidiot · 3 years

Text

Jelly Beans, A Sashannarcy Oneshot

So I’ve written a number of Sashannarcy oneshots that I’ve posted over on AO3 and figured it was about time I start sharing them here as well. So here’s the first oneshot, in which Sasha brings some special candy to spice up the girls’ weekly game night

---

“BeanBoozled?”

Anne blinked in confusion as she beheld the colorful box Sasha was holding up. She and Sasha sat on the couch in the living room of the apartment they shared with Marcy, who at the moment was searching through the board game cabinet for a suitable game for their weekly game night.

“Picked it up while I was out running errands today,” Sasha said. “Thought it could be a fun way to spice up game night.”

“How are jelly beans gonna make game night more interesting?” Anne asked with a furrowed brow.

Sasha grinned and gave the box a shake, the candy contents rattling within. “Ah, but these are no ordinary jelly beans. There are ten colors, but twenty possible flavors. Each color can be something really good, or really really bad, and the only way to tell is to pop one in your mouth and hope for the best. Take a look.”

Sasha passed the box to Anne. Her eyes widened as she beheld the flavors on the back. “Birthday cake or dirty dishwater? Coconut or spoiled milk? Peach or barf!? Jeez, it’s like Russian Roulette with candy!”

“Nah, at least with Russian Roulette the odds are five-to-one in your favor,” Marcy said as she walked over to the couch, a huge stack of boxes in her hands. “With those it’s more like a coin flip. Heads you get a delicious bean, tails you get one that’ll make you wanna die.”

“Exactly,” Sasha said with a smirk and a mischievous glint in her eye. “What do you say, girls? Wanna raise the stakes this week?”

“Sounds potentially disgusting and humiliating,” Marcy said, setting the board games on the table and taking a seat on the couch next to Anne. She grinned. “I’m in.”

“Me too,” Anne said, smiling and handing the box back to Sasha. “What did you have in mind?”

Sasha hmmm’ed as she looked over the games Marcy was offering. “We need a simple game. Let’s see here... Clue, no… Cards Against Humanity, Settlers of Catan, Boss Monster… no, no, nope… Ah, perfect! Would You Rather.”

Sasha opened up the game in question, took out a stack of cards and began shuffling them as she continued speaking. “So here’s what I’m thinking: we each take turns drawing a card and asking an either/or question for the other two to answer. Anyone who picks the less popular option has to eat a random bean out of the box. Sound good?”

Anne and Marcy nodded. Sasha set the deck of cards down and drew the top one. “Cool, I’ll start us off then. Anne, Marcy, would you rather… punch a pilgrim or eat an avocado?”

Anne sputtered out a laugh. “What kind of question is that?”

“That’s just the game,” Marcy said with a shrug. “Some of the choices have logic to them, others are just completely random. I think I’d rather eat an avocado, they’re loaded with nutrients and can be used to make guacamole.”

“Avocado it is,” Sasha said. “Anne?”

Anne pursed her lips. “Well from what I remember from history class, the Pilgrims were kind of dicks… But I think I’ll go with the avocado too.”

“And those are your final answers?” Sasha asked her girlfriends. Anne and Marcy nodded. “Well congratulations! According to the card fifty-nine percent of people agree with you.”

Marcy and Anne high-fived. Sasha discarded the card and Anne reached for the deck to draw her own card.

“Okay Marcy, Sasha, would you rather… have no teeth or have no tongue?”

“Oof, that’s a tough one,” Sasha said. “Either one of those would make eating a pain in the ass.”

Marcy rubbed her chin. “I think I’d rather have no teeth. ‘Cause at least if you have a tongue you could still taste stuff.”

“But how would you chew with no teeth so you don’t choke and die?” Sasha asked.

“Well that’s what blenders are for. Plus no tongue means you can’t talk either.”

“Oh, that’s a good point. Yeah, I’ll go with no teeth too.”

Anne nodded, discarding her card. “You and sixty-three percent of people. Congrats girls, no one gets to try the beans yet. You’re up Marbles.”

Marcy drew a card. “Sash, Anne, would you rather… sing everything you say or dance all your movements?”

“Sing everything,” Sasha said with a proud smirk. “After all, I’m a heart-stomper~! Stompin’ on hearts~!”

Anne and Marcy laughed. “Oh man I haven’t thought about our old garage band in years,” Marcy said. “We should break out the instruments one of these days, for old time’s sake.”

“Yeah but it’s been so long we probably suck,” Anne said. “Dancing was always more my thing, so that’s what I’m going with.”

“Ooh, first time two of us have picked different options,” Marcy said. She reached down for the BeanBoozled box. “Those are your final answers?” The other two girls nodded. “And the jelly bean goes to… Anne!”

“Aw, for real?” Anne asked as Sasha pumped a fist in the air. Marcy nodded and showed the text on the card: fifty-six percent of people would rather sing as opposed to forty-four who’d rather dance. “Damn it. Okay, let’s see what we’ve got here…”

On the back of the box was a circle of the ten jelly beans with a built-in spinner. She gave the spinner a flick and watched it slow until it settled on brown. “Okay that’s… chocolate pudding or canned dog food? Oh boy.”

Anne picked through the box of candies, pulling out a single brown bean. She held the candy up between her thumb and forefinger, gulping audibly. “Well. Here we go…”

Marcy and Sasha watched with great interest as Anne plopped the candy in her mouth. She slowly chewed… and a smile graced her face.

“Oh thank God, it’s chocolate pudding!” She said, swallowing.

“Aw, well that’s no fun,” Sasha said with an exaggerated pout. “You were supposed to get a gross one so me and Marcy could laugh at your misfortune.”

“Hey, the night’s still young,” Anne said. “Don’t forget you could also end up with a gross bean, Sasha.”

“Well not this time, ‘cause it’s my turn to ask the question.” Sasha drew the next card of the deck. “Would you rather… be dangled over the edge of the cliff or forced to speak in public?”

“Dangled off a cliff,” Marcy said instantly.

“Really, Mar-Mar?” Anne asked flatly.

“You girls know how I am about public speaking! Why do you think I did most of the work during our group projects back in school and left the actual presentations to you two?”

“Yeah, but we’re talking about public speaking vs. being dangled off a cliff!”

“It doesn’t say anywhere that you actually get dropped!”

Anne rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’ll still go with public speaking.”

“You and seventy-eight percent of people,” Sasha said. “Sorry Marcy, but the price of not having to speak in public is a gross jelly bean.”

“Totally worth it,” Marcy said defiantly. She picked up the box and flicked the spinner. “And I get… toasted marshmallow or stink bug.”

She plucked a brown-and-white bean from the box and plopped it in her mouth. She slowly chewed, and her neutral expression slowly morphed into disgust.

“Oh. Oh that doesn’t taste good,” she said. Her jaw moved again and she gagged, hand going to her mouth. “Oh that’s really not good!”

Anne tried to cover her giggle with a closed fist. “I don’t think she got the toasted marshmallow,” she said to Sasha, who openly laughed and slapped her knee. Marcy hunched over, face contorting.

“Ugh, it tastes like how stink bugs smell,” Marcy said with a grimace. “That sucked .”

“Could’ve avoided it if you just did a little public speaking,” Sasha said in a sing-song voice.

“Bite me, Sash,” Marcy grumbled. “Let’s see how you like it when you get one of those beans. Draw a card, Anna-Banana.”

Anne nodded and did so. “Would you rather own a mini horse or own a regular horse?”

“Ooh, I’d love a mini horse,” Sasha said with a smile. “They can actually be kept as house pets, right?”

“Yeah, but they still require a lot of upkeep,” Marcy pointed out. “If you’re gonna have a horse, it might as well be a full-sized one you can actually ride. I’d rather have a regular horse.”

“Well I’ve got good news Marcy, so would fifty-nine percent of people.” Anne said. Sasha crossed her arms with a hmph as Marcy smirked.

“Go ahead, take a bean Sasha,” Marcy said, holding the box out and giving it a taunting rattle.

“Fine, I will,” Sasha said haughtily. She accepted the box and spun the spinner. “And I got… buttered popcorn or rotten egg.”

Sasha quickly fished a yellow-and-white spotted jelly bean out of the box and quickly popped it in her mouth, face full of determination. Seconds passed as she chewed, Anne and Marcy watching her expression closely.

Finally, Sasha smirked.

“Buttered popcorn it is!” She said triumphantly. “Once again Sasha Waybright comes out on top.”

“Seriously?” Marcy plopped back on the couch, crossing her arms and letting out a frustrated exhale. “I can’t believe I’m the only person who didn’t get a good bean yet!”

“Cheer up Marbles, I’m sure you’ll get a tasty bean at some point,” Anne said. “Now draw the next card, this is getting good!”

---

“Green,” Marcy said. It was a few questions later and she’d picked another lower option, choosing to only have access to games online along with thirty-three percent of people, compared to sixty-seven percent who’d rather have access to only Youtube. The spinner had given her a light-green bean to sample. “That’s juicy pear or booger? Oh jeez…”

She picked a green jelly bean from the box and popped it in her mouth, chewing tentatively. She retched, cheeks turning as green as the candy she just ate.

“Oh God it’s booger,” she said with a retch, to Anne and Sasha’s shared amusement. “ Blech, plech! Oh that’s foul!”

“Okay, so you got two bad ones in a row,” Anne said between giggles. “I’m sure you’ll have better luck next time.”

---

“More people would rather drink tea than coffee, are you for real?!” Marcy asked, incredulous.

“Well coffee is an acquired taste, and there’s like a million different varieties of tea,” Anne pointed out, having picked the tea option to the question Sasha had given.

“Yeah but… coffee!”

“We get it Marcy, you love your bean water,” Sasha said. “But you still picked the lesser option, so it’s jelly bean time.”

Marcy gave the spinner a twirl and grimaced. “Strawberry banana smoothie or dead fish?! Oh this isn’t gonna be fun.”

She dug through the box until she found a lightly-colored orange bean with red speckles. With a heavy sigh she tossed it in her mouth, and her face contorted in disgust almost instantly.

“Dead - ack, hack - fish!” She said between gags. Anne looked like she was caught between sympathy and amusement, while Sasha was openly laughing.

“Man Marcy, those beans really hate you,” Sasha said, wiping a tear from her eye.

---

“Oh goodie, I got another one wrong,” Marcy said with a too-wide smile. “Silly me for thinking more people would rather die by drowning in a tsunami than throw themselves in lava.”

She let out a short, desperate laugh as she grabbed the box of jelly beans. “You know what? That’s fine, it’s fine. So what if three of three beans have tasted like garbage? One of them is bound to be good sooner or later. I mean if you flip a coin enough times, it’s bound to come up heads at some point. That’s just the law of averages, yeah.”

“Uh, I think that’s the gambler’s fallacy,” Sasha pointed out with a raised brow.

“Shut up and let me have hope, Sasha.” Marcy spun the spinner and giggled again. “Oh good, it’s peach or barf. That’s fine, that’s totally fine. Nothing to worry about, I’ve got a good feeling about this one.”

She plucked another jelly bean out of the box, this one a darker orange with red flecks. She kept giggling, one of her eyes twitching.

“You sure you’re okay, Marcy?” Anne asked, concerned.

“I’m just peachy , Anne!” Marcy said, far too brightly. “Peachy like I’m sure this jelly bean will be!”

She stuffed in her mouth, chewing quickly. The smile remained frozen on her face even as her eyes began to water.

“Aaaand it’s barf because why not?!” Marcy doubled over, hacking and coughing. “Oh God it’s on the sides of my tongue!”

Anne gave Marcy a comforting pat on the back. Sasha just shook her head with a chuckle.

“Okay, maybe we should give BeanBoozled a rest before Marcy keels over,” she said. “It was funny at first, but now it’s just getting sad.”

“No no, I’m fine,” Marcy insisted even as she kept gagging. “I can get a good bean at some point, I know I can!”

Anne and Sasha exchanged uncertain glances as Marcy grabbed the next card, it being her turn to read the question. “Okay, would you - blech - rather be a Jedi master or an elite Saiyan?”

“Ooh, I’d rather be a Saiyan,” Anne said instantly. “I love Dragon Ball!”

“Well I guess I’ll be a Jedi,” Sasha said with a shrug. “At least I’ve actually seen Star Wars. I’ve only seen like a handful of Dragon Ball episodes.”

“Well sixty-eight percent of people agree with you, Sasha,” Marcy said. “Sorry Anne, looks like it’s your turn for a bean.”

Anne nodded and spun the box’s spinner with a swift finger flick. Around and around it spun until it landed on blue. “That’s berry blue or toothpaste.”

“Aw man, you got an easy one,” Marcy said with a pout as Anne picked a blue jelly bean out of the box. “Toothpaste doesn’t even taste that bad.”

Anne looked to Marcy as she plopped the bean in her mouth. Marcy, who’d been unfortunate enough to get four terrible-tasting jelly beans in a row. She smiled as an idea formed in her brain.

“Hey Mar-Mar,” Anne said, voice slightly muffled with her mouth full.

Marcy looked up, and didn’t even have time to react before Anne pulled her in for a surprise kiss. Marcy’s face lit up as she felt Anne’s tongue push past her lips, too stunned by the audacity to offer any sort of resistance. Anne pulled away after a few seconds, and Marcy felt a familiar lump in her mouth.

“Oh my God!” Sasha laughed, a splash of red on her own cheeks as she brought a closed fist to her mouth. “Did you really just…? You didn’t! ”

“Yeah, I totally did,” Anne said proudly, blushing herself. “Well Marcy? What’s the verdict?”

Marcy’s face was burning as she slowly chewed, a pleasant taste spreading across her taste buds. “Berry…”

#amphibia #amphibia fanfic #anne boonchuy #sasha waybright #marcy wu #sashannarcy

32 notes · View notes

soyeahitsmiddleearth · 4 years

Text

Killer Good Looks pt. 2

The Company/Reader

Goblin tunnels, scapegoats, and life-threatening adventures... Oh, and you're still supposed to kill these guys, hm.

Angst, Humor, Action

----

The fall from your little cozy cave down into the deep dark depths of the Goblin Tunnels was not a pleasant one, and you're almost certain that a concussion is in the makings with how many times you and your companions have smashed your heads against walls, each other, and rocks alike.

You got lucky for the most part, and they've got pretty thick skulls so they'll be fine too.

Once the twisting tunnels and dead-drops are done, you all lay at the bottom of some sort of cage, groaning and recovering from the shock of it all (you're fairly certain there's a period there where you're all unconscious).

Damn it, you should've known better.

You've known for ages about the goblins that reside in the Misty Mountains, but you, for some reason, thought you'd be safe enough with the horrible weather to make it in and out of the mountain range before they even knew you were there.

The goblin king won't see you, will he? He won't recognize you, right?

Yeah, so, there was a time there where you worked freelance, having no assignments from The Brotherhood or anything to do, and you caught wind that the goblins of the Misty Mountains came across something desirable.

Something... shiny... and... possibly magical.

Your kleptomania went positively wild at the mere thought of finding something so pretty and sparkly in such a dreary and dismal place, so you set out for the Mountains, staked out around the entrances for a few days, and then snuck in and stole that 'thing'.

The 'thing' ended up being a radiant, beautiful ring stolen from some poor traveler more than likely. Whether they wiped out the kingdom or stole it in silence is unknown to you, but you didn't really care.

You snuck in at night while countless goblins went out to hunt and enjoy the evening, and then you swiped the ring from the goblin kings finger while he slept when day came about, hid in the tunnels until night once more while he flipped out in search of it, and made your escape the following night.

Only after you stole it did you find out that it was magical.

It morphed to fit your finger as soon as you fit it on, and granted you some enhanced senses.

The enhancements weren't vast or grand, but it was a very slight adjustment that helped to polish your already honed skills.

You could hear a little better, see a bit further, and increased your 6th sense for detecting others.

They probably went through numerous hardships to acquire such a useful item, and, now, it was all yours for free.

That day you spent hiding away in the tunnels, waiting for night so you could escape after stealing it in the day, was boring, but also a little frightening. The way the goblin king screamed and screeched about a thief and needing to find his prize made you briefly fear for your safety, but it didn't take long for you to realize they're too dumb to spot you.

You may not be the strongest in terms of physical strength and brute force, but your willpower and cunning got you through it almost effortlessly. And, if you did get into a physical altercation, your agility and reflexes would help you go down while taking them out with you.

Anyways, your point it that, he may not recognize your face since he never saw you, but if he sees the ring then it's over for you.

So, once you regain your rational thought after your daze, you slip it off your finger and shove it into one of the hidden pockets in your shirt. Who knows if he'll recognize the ring or not.

In no time you are being hauled up to your feet and dragged away with the rest of your companions, though you are a fair bit taller than all of them so it's harder for these nasty bastards to keep you under control.

No matter how vast or grand your skills are, you'd never be able to take on all of these guys; you're a stealth master for a reason after all.

The lot of you are taken down a series of paths to an audience with the horrendous Goblin King, and along the way you manage to kick quite a few of those grabby little monsters down into the dark depths below.

A minute or so passes that ends with all of you, ultimately, in front of the Goblin Kind and helpless.

"Who would be so bold as to come armed into my kingdom?" His voice booms in front of all of you, echoing throughout the caves, "Spies? Thieves? Assassins?”

Something like that.

You are, technically, all three, but none of you are there for him.

One of the small, ugly creatures steps forward and informs him of who you all are, "Dwarfs and a human, your Malevolence."

His face morphs into one of disgust and he practically spits out, "Dwarfs?"

"We found them on the front porch." The lacky confirms.

“Well, don’t just stand there; search them! Every crack, every crevice.” He cries, slamming his fist down which makes the wood tremble beneath all of you.

A bunch of words are traded and the Great Goblin exposes his knowledge about Thorin and the fact that his greatest enemy, Azog the Defiler, is still alive and kicking.

“Send word to the Pale Orc; tell him I have found his prize.” A twisted smile takes over his huge face and causes that skin beard to shift, a disgustingly entrancing movement, and he looks down at the searching goblins expectantly.

You've had a 3 of your knives tossed aside and your short sword has been stolen, but you're happy to report that some of your hidden weapons and the stolen goods are still hidden.

Suddenly, one of the goblins loses it's head and throws something in front of the group, screeching and screaming with horror.

The Great Goblin recoils and he hisses out fearfully, "I know that sword! It is the Goblin-Cleaver, the Biter, the blade that sliced a thousand necks."

Whips and nails, teeth and palms, the dwarfs are abused with every limb, weapon, and thing possible, and before you can even think on it, your voice demands the attention of them all.

"Wait!"

Silence, stillness, attention.

God, you hate it.

You slip the ring from your pocket and onto your finger and take a step forward unobstructed from the enraged goblins, slightly nervous but blank in expression.

"I cannot hide it anymore. Every second that passes weighs on my soul, for the desire to be recognized for my deeds is too strong."

"Speak your piece, human, what do you want?"

You raise your ringed hand and brandish the smooth metal off to him, "Do you recognize this? The ring I so cleverly stole from you all those months ago?"

"M-My ring!" He bellows, taking a step forward, "How- You thief! You were the one who stole from me? You?!"

You say nothing at first and betray no emotion in your face, lowering your hand back to your side. When you do speak, you push arrogance into your voice, "I took it while you indulged yourself in sleep, and then I hid right under your nose for an entire day, holding my prize and listening to your whining and petulant screams." The insults are all well aimed and meant to enrage him, for you're hoping to take his attention off of the dwarfs before he can have them all killed. "If I had known you were so pathetic and slow-witted, I would have taken it during the night and saved myself the time."

Someone calls your name, Thorin, and he hisses with confusion, "What are you doing?"

You ignore him.

If he weren't so pale and colorless he would've been red with anger at your taunting words. The Great Goblin is seething and spitting, his huge, clawed hands clenched into fists as he tries to form a coherent thought.

"You dare speak down to me? You will be punished!" He cries, pointing a long nailed finger at you, "Cut the ring from those thieving hands, and then take those hands as well!"

Your expression shifts when you're shoved forward and onto the ground on your hands and knees, taking on a more defiant look despite the hint of fear in your eyes.

It's not like you want them to cut off your hands, you kind of need those, but you're fairly confident that this groups luck will strike once again and save you from a life of picking things up with your feet and wrists (if they don't kill you, that is).

"No!" Someone yells from the group of dwarfs and goblins, followed by shouts and calls from others as well.

Unfortunately, the roaring in your ears is too loud for you to make out individual voices, but it's nice that they aren't apathetic towards your fate.

Before you know it you're being shoved face-first into the ground and your arms are being wrenched out from beneath you, stretched out and poised for being cut off. Your finger with the ring on it is pulled from your fist, and when you glance up, you see a sword poised above the head of a goblin, ready to relieve you of your hand.

There's lots of screaming and yelling, and at some point you squeeze your eyes shut since you're no longer confident in your assessment that you'll be saved in the nick of time.

Finally, right when your fate is about to finally be sealed, a bright light blinds you all and renders the goblins immobilized momentarily.

Gandalf the Gray stands there with his powerful staff in hand and an aura of white surrounding him, meanwhile you all just stare in awe.

“Take up arms. Fight. Fight!” He demands, slamming his staff on the ground which shakes your very souls.

You, and everyone else, require no more prompting.

In one swift movement you roll back onto your feet and steal the discarded sword aimed to take your hands, and then you jump right into the action.

You and the entirety of the group make a swift and action packed escape where you spend the majority of your time protecting the Durin's, sticking close to them and keeping the goblins away.

Everything passes by in a blur of limbs, blood, and violence, and it isn't until you've killed the Great Goblin and escaped back out into the light of the soon setting sun that you have a moment to breathe and think about all the things that just took place.

It's at this time that everyone finishes running and takes a moment to catch their breath that you all realize Bilbo is missing, and you immediately curse yourself for not keeping a closer eye on him.

A couple of the dwarfs begin to blame each other and there's some mumbling amongst themselves, but Thorin has another idea entirely about what really happened.

"I’ll tell you what happened. Master Baggins saw his chance and he took it! He’s thought of nothing but his soft bed and his warm hearth since first he stepped out of his door! We will not be seeing our Hobbit again. He is long gone."

You purse your lips but say nothing despite your disagreement with his words; arguing with the people 'paying you' isn't the brightest idea, so it's better to just keep your mouth shut.

And then, quite the peculiar thing, said hobbit steps out from behind a tree and states matter-of-factly, "No, he isn't."

There is varying amounts of surprise and shock that wash throughout all of your expressions. Hell, your eyes even widen slightly when he appears so suddenly. How did you not notice him even with your ring on?

"Bilbo Baggins! I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my life!” The gray wizard exclaims with a grand smile on his wrinkling face.

Kili speaks next, informing the little hobbit that there was little hope surrounding him. "Bilbo, we'd given you up!"

"How on earth did you get past the goblins?!" Fili wonders.

"How indeed..." Dwalin sounds suspicious almost when he repeats Fili's question, but you're entirely worried about something else.

"Are you alright, Bilbo?" You chime in before he can explain himself, stepping closer to give him a quick once over.

You were hired to protect the Durin's, but you need all of them to get access to that mountain with ease.

Or, at least, that's what you tell yourself.

The hobbit looks up at you and offers a slightly nervous smile, "I am fine. Just a few bumps and bruises."

"I want to know...," Thorin's voice breaks through your conversation as he asks, "Why did you come back?"

A quick moment of silence passes as you look down at your feet and listen carefully, actually a bit curious yourself.

It isn't like you couldn't do his part of the job for him, though your assignment is something else entirely, and he expressed his desire to leave right before you were all kidnapped by the goblins... so why would he come back?

"Look, I know you doubt me, I know you always have," Bilbo begins with a slightly grim face, "And you’re right, I often think of Bag End. I miss my books. And my armchair. And my garden..." He trails off as a faraway look momentarily blurs his vision, probably imagining what he could be doing at home right now, and you all watch and listen carefully. "See, that’s where I belong. That’s home. And that’s why I came back, cause you don’t have one - a home. It was taken from you. But I will help you take it back if I can.”

Your eyebrows furrow together when he finishes speaking his piece, because his words are... greatly troubling.

He was ready to leave it all behind before, mere seconds away from leaving back towards The Shire and Bag End, but here he is now. He came back because he genuinely wants to help; he wants them to reclaim their home and find their wandering origins.

Everyone is silent as they think over the words Bilbo speaks, and while it awes most of them, you only feel more bothered.

Such a kind hobbit who you may likely need to kill.

"That's foolish." You find yourself saying that before you can even think about it, something that's been happening too often for your liking.

You get several shocked looks, hell, you're shocked yourself, but you don't take back your statement.

Where did this disdain come from all of a sudden? This disdain not towards the kind hearted hobbit, but towards yourself?

"You are not the person to be calling the actions of our Master Burglar, foolish." Gandalf scolds, eyeing you with a pointed look. "I know your taunting and teasing towards the Goblin King was no accident or arrogance driven necessity. And I also know that you could have easily broken yourself free before harm befell upon you. I brought you along to do a job, and do this job you have - much too well. I thank you for the distraction, but your methods may have proved to be a mistake had I not arrived on time."

You look back at the gray wizard with an unwavering stare, eyes slightly narrowed as you attempt to glare him into submission; only, he doesn't relent and stares right back at you.

"You came in time." A weak defense.

"And if I hadn't?" He asks, voice raising slightly. Gandalf doesn't much like backtalk. "How far would you have taken it? Were you going to allow them to take your hands? To cut that trinket from your finger?"

This time you hesitate in replying, something akin to a pout tugging at your lips. "Of course not. I had faith that you would come, and you did...," you trail off, then add begrudgingly, "And if you hadn't, then I could have escaped quite easily."

Another silence filled by the two big egos facing off against each other.

Gandalf's ego wins, unfortunately.

You relent and look away, catching the troubled gazes of Fili and Kili.

Did your actions really bother them that much?

"Well what do you suppose I should do? Let them harm you all?" You wouldn't let that happen.

That thought that lingers behind your words makes your eyebrows knit together in confusion once again, and your gaze wanders away once more.

Now that you think about it, why did you do it? I mean, why did you really do it?

You knew they weren't actually going to die just like that, he's too scared of the pale orc to do that, but you did it anyways. The possibility of harm befalling upon these dwarfs actually... affected you.

Gandalf pauses and observes you carefully, then realization sparkles in those infuriatingly wise eyes of his.

"Well, no matter. I did not mean to scold you, for you are a very capable person, so I thank you for doing your job well and diligently." He lets those words hang in the air for a time, then he moves on, "Now, we must discuss where we are and where we must go."

"I say-" Thorin begins, only to be cut off by howls and the sound of a gravely voice speaking in another language. "Out of the frying pan..." He sighs with a weary face.

"And into the fire! Run! Run!!" The gray wizard snaps.

You all begin your hasty retreat down the mountain, and at some point the sun begins to set.

The sky turns all sorts of vibrant shades of orange, blue, and red, and the light delicately kisses the peaks of each tree, mountain top, and surface. The air smells fresh, as it usually does following a hard rain, and the grass and leaves glisten healthy because of the drink offered to them by the sky. It's a magnificent sight to behold, but none of you are able to appreciate it, for the beauty of nature is being darkened and tainted by the evil intent and fear.

Those nasty wargs chase you all down like prey, maybe that's exactly what you are, meanwhile your feet take you as far away and as quickly as they can.

You jog behind the two youngest Durin's, being as Thorin takes the lead as per usual, and keep a slow enough pace to avoid taking over them (they're not the fastest group of dwarfs, after all). You can't have them becoming warg food when you still need them to get you into that mountain...

"Pick up your feet more when you run!" You command, glancing behind you briefly to gauge just how close those bastards are.

They heed your advice and end up running just a bit faster, something that relieves you somewhat.

The land begins to thin out and the ground you run on narrows, thus forcing all of you onto a cliff filled with trees and a precipice topped with a leaning tree.

“Up into the trees, all of you! Come on, climb! Bilbo, climb!” Gandalf demands, jumping up to grab one of the low hanging branches and pulling himself up.

You stay planted firmly in place and wait for everyone to find a spot in a tree and climb to safety, and while everyone else, even Bombur, finds somewhere to avoid the bloodthirsty wargs, Bilbo is still running for the tree line.

A frustrated curse passes through your gritted teeth, but you waste no time in rushing forward and yanking Bilbo away from the jaws of an awaiting warg. You foot shoots up and crashes into the side of its face, successfully knocking it off course since you nailed it in the eye which gives you two enough time to sort things out.

"Quickly!" You hiss, leaning crouching down with your hands clasped in front of you, "I can boost you up, but you mustn't waste anymore time!"

The little hobbit nods his head and steps his big right foot into your awaiting hands, and, once he's secured, you launch him up and into the awaiting low hanging branches.

"Y/N!" Fili screams from above you, panic lining his voice.

Your gaze snaps forward just in time to see sharp teeth and brown fur, but right before those razor teeth can sink into the soft flesh of your neck, a rock comes sailing through the sky and nails the nasty beast right in the nose.

It whimpers and jerks its head off to the side, but you don't waste anymore time in watching it freak out and instead roll around to the other side of the tree and jump up to grab a branch and pull yourself further up so they can't get your feet.

You reach up to grasp another branch, but someone catches your hand instead and easily hauls you into another layer of the tree.

"I've got you." It's Dwalin, and he doesn't let go of your hand right away until you're secure.

"Thank you." You dip your head after voicing your thanks then do a quick once-over to make sure everyone is safe in the trees, only, you don't get the chance to finish that before those wild dogs begin to rip at the roots holding the strong pines into place.

One by one do each of the trees begin to lean and fall, creating a domino affect that forces all of you to hang vicariously over the edge of the cliffside.

A quick glance down shows you the imminent death that awaits you below, and, for the first time since this chase began, you fear for your and everyone else's lives.

"Catch!" Kili yells to you, tossing a flaming pinecone your way.

Where did they get flaming pinecones?

Gandalf of course, you should've known even before you looked up.

You turn your attention ahead once more and pull your arm back, poised to throw the pinecone with all your might, only to stop mid-swing when something, or rather, someone, gets in your way.

Thorin Oakenshield stands on the trunk of the sinking tree with his weight distributed to maintain balance, and just ahead is Azog the Defiler, staring him down with an arrogant, sick smile.

Oh Jesus... this dwarf sure doesn't make your job easy.

You throw the pinecone since the flames began to lick at your gloved fingers and move to stand up, but the branch you sit upon cracks and creaks, groaning under the sudden movement.

Shit.

If he dies the dwarfs may give up on the entire journey altogether and decide to leave the mountain alone, and then where will that leave you?

You don't even want to think about it.

Another attempt is made to pull yourself up onto the thick trunk, but this time the entire branch cracks and breaks, falling out from beneath you as it hangs by the sparsely attached strings of ripped apart wood.

You just barely manage to throw yourself into the trunk and hang off the side, feet dangling in open air with nothing to leverage yourself with.

Panic blooms in your chest as you completely loose control over the situation, unable to even swing your legs up because of the way your arms can't completely wrap around the trunk.

"No!" Dwalin screams just above you, catching your attention briefly despite your panic.

You look over to the side and see that Thorin has lost his fight against the pale orc. He lays on the ground, unmoving and defeated as another one of Azog's companions raise its' weapon above its' head to kill the dwarf king.

"Damn it!" You hiss helplessly, pawing uselessly around the rough bark in search of any sort of leg up. "Thorin!"

This is it. They're going to kill him and all of you are going to fall to your deaths, soaring through the sky for a brief time before you become nothing more than bloody splatters on the ground below.

The sound of metal hitting metal and the clashing of weapons draws your ear as you begin to slip further down the circumference of the trunk, but you can't even turn to look because there's nothing left for you to do.

The rest of your body drags your arms from around the tree and, in a last ditch effort to avoid the drop, you grasp the broken, hanging branch.

It snaps of as soon as your weight yanks it down, and then... you're free falling.

Someone screams your name (is that Bofur?) but you don't do anything.

You don't writhe or scream; you don't flail your arms or cry; you just stare up at the horror stricken faces and your partners in falling (Dori and Ori) as numbness overtakes your whole body.

Yes, your stomach drops as the feeling of falling sickens you, but in your heart, in your soul, you feel nothing.

It's not like you've led a particularly good life or anything, but still, you don't want to die. Even if there is nothing for you, no one that cares, you still don't want to go; because once you're dead, the only thing anyone will remember you as is a ruthless monster, a puppet of The Brotherhood.

You don't want to die.

Maybe you should've rejected the job in the first place; maybe you should've made better designs in general; maybe you should've allowed yourself to let those foolish dwarfs and sweet hobbit close if to just feel a moment of belonging.

Little do you know, all of these thoughts will prove to complicate your mission further, because this is, in fact, not the end.

One moment you're falling to your death while having an existential crisis, and the next you're being snatched out of the sky by one of the Great Eagles.

#the company x reader #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit #reader insert #thorin oakenshield #fili #kili #killer good looks pt. 2 #assassin reader #angst #bilbo baggins #kili x reader #fili x reader #thorin x reader #bilbo x reader #bofur x reader #dwalin x reader

253 notes · View notes

getitinbusan · 4 years

Text

I've Got A Coupon (18+)

Part 2

Namjoon: A Massage with a Happy Ending

Warnings: 18+ consensual sexual poly relationships. Always swearing, Safe sex is implied. Don't read smut if you can't handle the 🍆💦

Words: 1650

Valentine’s Day, what do you give 7 men who already have everything?

Sitting down, you create a series of Love Coupons and place them in a bowl…

Erotic movie night

Massage with a happy ending

lap dance

Voyeur, look but don’t touch!

Naked Chef, dining al fresco

Trip to the sex shop

Location of your choice!

Calling them to the kitchen they each take a turn picking their present.

Series Masterlist

6:30 am.

Joon was an early riser. Knocking lightly you were hoping he was still asleep.

No answer. Trying to silently open the door you slipped inside holding the handle so it wouldn't tip him off with the click. Loud snoring came from across the room and you could just make out his outline from the rising sun filtering through his curtains.

Tiptoeing closer you dropped your robe. Picking up the fluffy white duvet you slid underneath. God he was warm. He stirred with a sigh and moved closer, his arms wrapping around you instinctively. Namjoon was comfort. His peaceful presence could have easily lulled you into slumber if it weren't for your mission.

"Joonie," you whispered. "Hey, wake up."

His dimples popped as he groggily smiled. "Good morning. It's so early."

"I wanted to make sure you started the day off right."

Pulling the last envelope from the pocket of your robe you laid it on his chest.

"Massage with a happy ending." His cheeks turned red.

"I think you deserve to be taken care of Joon, will you let me do that for you?"

"I'm a little afraid I'm going to get too used to this…" He moved his body closer, hands hovering over your stomach. His fingertips, not sure of which way to travel, skimmed over your skin giving you goosebumps from the delicate touch.

"What would be so wrong with that?" Your lips lingered on his.

"I want you too badly to think of any excuses right now."

"Good, lets start."

Jumping out of the bed you threw your robe back on and retrieved your pile of equipment waiting in the hallway.

"You really went all out."

He seemed surprised as you set up the table.

"No half measures Namjoon. Now get that gorgeous ass over here."

Pulling the sheet off the bed he wrapped himself up.

"You know what a happy ending is right? You're just going to have to take that off in 4 feet."

He was flustered, always so shy in his gentlemanly way. Closing the gap he abandoned his modesty beside the table. He was hard as a rock already standing straight out red and excited.

"Should I lay on my back?"

Pulling the cover from the table you raised your eyebrows at him suggestively. "That's totally up to you, this is a milking table."

Never had a jaw dropped further and more dramatically than his.

He needed encouragement. Walking over to him you let your fingers slide down his chest, "Why don't you lay down on your front and I'll just give you a massage for a bit. You won't even see me until you're ready, okay?"

His large hands reached out and cradled your face. "It's not that I don't want to look at you. You're so fucking beautiful, I'm just a shy idiot."

"We can work on that." You couldn't help but smile at him, "now hop on up here."

He got on the table and lay face down.

"We're gonna ease into this okay?"

He nodded.

Digging through your bag you brought out the bottle of massage oil. "This may be a little cold, are you ready?"

Squeezing the oil in a stream down his back he squirmed at the sensation. You could have been nice and warmed it, but you liked the idea of the cold liquid making his nipples hard.

"You've been working out huh?" You began sliding your hands over his skin. "You're a lot bigger than when we last hooked up."

You could feel him flexing his triceps under your fingers. “It suits you.”

Working the oil over his entire backside you wanted to up the stakes. "Is it okay if I get on top of you? It's better leverage to work out those knots."

"umhum," he mumbled face down into the pillow.

Grabbing the oil you quickly drizzled it down your front before climbing on. Straddling his back you rubbed yourself just above the swell of his ass. He moaned at the feeling of your pussy sliding down his skin.

"How's that feel?"

"So, so good Y/N."

Laying flat against him you placed a kiss between his shoulder blades and pressed your breasts into his back. Your arms smoothed down over his as you rocked yourself against his muscle.

"Joon, I know this is for you but I'm so horny." You kissed the back of his neck, "Do you mind if I get myself off on you?"

"Fuck baby girl, rub your pussy wherever you need it."

Raising yourself, the mirror was in front of you. You could see the reflection of his cock hanging through the milking hole, a small slow dripping string of precum dangling from the tip.

"If you're comfortable you should lift your head up and watch, there's a great view."

As you rubbed yourself over his swell your hands kneaded his back muscles. He stared at you, watching you get off on him. "Fuck you've got pretty tits. I wanna feel them on my back."

Letting your breasts hang your nipples dragged over his lubed skin. The sensation of the oil and the rubbing was too much, you couldn't help but moan the closer you got to your high.

"That's it baby, cum all over me, make me all sticky."

The table was rocking precariously under your enthusiasm and his cock was swinging back and forth through the glory hole.

"Joonie I'm so close."

He flexed his glutes and with a few more passes your clit was satisfied.

Collapsing for a second you lay heavy on top of him trying to catch your breath. "Thank you," you mustered.

"Don't thank me, you did all the work."

Lifting yourself to get off of him, sticky cum threads pulled between you. "That's so hot." He sat to turn himself and couldn't resist running his finger through it and sticking it in his mouth.

"Let's do you now, are you ready for your turn?"

He was in a daze, with a half smile and popped dimple, he could only nod.

Grabbing some pillows off the bed you made your way under the table. Something about his penis just hanging there waiting, made it seem so much more suckable.

"So gorgeous Joon." You licked his tip, teasing it as another ooze of precum dripped in anticipation. "I'm going to milk every drop out of you Daddy."

His moan of approval was loud.

"Do you like that? Do you want more?"

"Suck me please I want it so bad." He begged as you continued to play with the the tip, squirming under the torturous build up. "Take it all like you did last time.”

"Do you think about that? Think about me sucking and fucking you in the practice room?"

"Every day since." His breathing was heavy.

"Do you get off thinking about my cunt wrapped around your cock?"

You gave him a big deep suck, you could picture his face scrunched up in pleasure and it made you want to cum again.

"I can't stop. Whenever you bend down I can see your pretty tits in your low cut shirt. Such a bad girl never wearing a bra. I've rubbed myself raw just thinking about you."

"I put on that show just for you. When I catch you looking, I always think about your mouth on me."

You rewarded his new inhibition with positive reinforcement. Ringing your hand around his base tightly you took him into your throat.

"Next time you need to get off I want you to tell me. Promise you’ll use me instead of your hand, that you'll fuck my cunt open and fill me with your cum."

He was making so much noise if anyone was walking buy they'd probably think he was recording.

"Tell me, tell me you promise."

You were whiny, feeling the need to cum again your pussy was pulsing. Something about bringing Joon, who was so reluctant, to the point of surrender was the ultimate turn on.

"Yeah, I promise...I promise...Fuck I'm close."

Removing your mouth you slid your hand up and down his shaft pumping a few times before letting go. Sitting for a minute, not touching him, He was distanced from his impending orgasm.

Legs swung over the table, he reached for your hand pulling you up and onto your feet. “You should be careful what you beg for, it might be more than you can handle.”

He walked you backwards until your legs hit the bed. "No more fucking around."

You grinned, achievement unlocked.

Kneeling in front of you he picked up your knees until they were bent and pushed them wide open. Staring down at your pink heat he slid two fingers inside of you. Moaning as he curled them you were left disappointed when he pulled them back out.

"Look how excited you are."

He held them up and showed you the sticky display before rubbing the wetness all over this cock. Pumping twice to make sure he was coated his dick hung waiting in limbo until he plunged himself inside you. The loud moan that followed was from the pure satisfaction of being stretched so completely by his girth.

His thrusts were slow and deep, bottoming out, holding and then dragging back out against your clenching walls. "Your little pussy likes that huh?" He rammed back in. "Next time you pass me in the hallway this is what I want you to think about."

"Fuck, Namjoon you're so fucking good. Why are you so god damn reserved? We could have been doing this for months."

He lowered himself, his body heavy on yours, his fingers gripping your hair. The slight pain with the immense pleasure shot white lightning through you. He pumped harder as you clenched and came all over his cock until he too found his release shooting his hot cum deep inside you.

Forehead to forehead he kissed your lips.

"Happy ending indeed."

Part 3: Hobi - Lap dance

#BTS smut #namjoon smut #bts #namjoon #bts poly #studio sessions #noonasinnetwork

131 notes · View notes

mochegato · 4 years

Text

Hope on Board

Chapter 11 - Zombies and Vampires and Werewolves, Oh My

Chapter 1 Chapter 10

“Are we ready?” Dick asked, looking to Marinette instead of looking around because ultimately, it was more a matter of whether she was comfortable and felt prepared than what they had. He really didn’t care about the movie or the snacks. He was just ecstatic to have Marinette in his arms and without worrying about making her feel like throwing up if he touched her wrong, or at all, or even looked at her.

Marinette looked around, taking stock of their supplies in the dark room. They had their huge bowl of popcorn, some chips, cookies she had made for them to snack on, disgusting looking cheap candy that Dick liked pushed as far away from her as it could be, she mentally thanked God she was almost completely over her morning sickness, otherwise she’d already be throwing up due to the smell alone, water, sodas, and ginger ale in the refrigerator. They had enough supplies to feed an entire group and she recognized that, but she couldn’t stop herself from going overboard for Dick.

“I think we’re ready.” She nodded firmly. “We’re ready for an entire movie marathon if we wanted,” she chuckled self-consciously.

Dick smiled and pulled her closer against himself. “I’m okay with that. As long as you’re cuddled up against me and I can sneak kisses from time to time, I’ll be happy.”

She grinned up at him. “Who says you have to sneak them?”

Dick grinned at the invitation and leaned down to give her a slow, sweet kiss. He pulled away, gazing into her eyes affectionately and rubbing her cheek gently with his thumb. “Are you comfortable? Do you need another pillow?”

Marinette giggled and looked around them. “Dick, I think we’re good. I think if we stacked up the pillows, they’d be taller than me.”

Dick pouted. “I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable.”

She cupped his face and pulled him down for a sweet, chaste kiss. “I know. Thank you. It means a lot. Now, what did you choose for the movie?”

Dick looked back to the television and started navigating to the show he wanted to watch. “I thought we could maybe watch that zombie show everyone is talking about. I keep hearing how amazing it is. They just released the entire series so we could binge on it.” Marinette tensed in his arms. He looked back at her apprehensively. “Or… we could watch something else.”

She looked up at him guiltily, a frown pulling the corner of her lips down. She started fidgeting with her fingers. “I’m sorry. I just… zombie stories… it just brings back some… um… flashbacks?”

Dick raised an eyebrow at her. “Flashbacks? Flashbacks to what?”

“Paris. Akuma. One of the most effective ones we had. She turned almost everyone in Paris into one of her zombies.” She shuddered at the memory.

He nodded and ran his hands over her arms. “Millions of zombies wandering around wanting to get you… yeah, I can see how that would be terrifying,” he soothed in an understanding voice.

She shook her head. “It wasn’t really the zombies that were so scary, it was… have you ever seen your friends give themselves up in order to give you a few extra seconds to get away? That’s what I see. Not the monster coming. My friends falling. The look in their eyes. The blood. The…” She stared at her hands for a few moments before glancing back up at him with a humorless smile. “Sorry. I just brought down the tone of the night.”

He shook his head. “No, not at all. We’re supposed to be getting to know each other better, right? This is a part of you I never knew about. I want to know. And, I have. Seen people give themselves up to save me, I mean. Not a mindless monster, but… yeah, I’ve had friends and family put themselves in the path of a rogue or a henchman in order to give me time to escape. It… it makes you feel unworthy.”

She nodded along with his words. “Undeserving.”

He nodded in agreement. “Even knowing I would make the same choice. I’m sorry you had to go through that.” He pulled her in for a hug and nuzzled into her hair to comfort her. “Any other horror movie tropes we should stay away from?” He tried to lighten the mood.

Marinette pulled away to think about it. “Growing up in Paris is kind of like a double edged sword when it comes to horror movies. They aren’t really scary anymore because we’ve seen them all in real life and the movies could never match how terrifying it is in real life, when your or your friends’ or family’s lives are actually at stake. But on the other hand, it triggers flashbacks.

“I mean we had zombies, obviously, werewolves, vampires, chainsaw wielders, ghosts, gremlins, invisible terrors, baby killers, like, babies that killed, literal nightmares come to life, apocalypses, firestarter, that one was particularly gruesome. I couldn’t go near any kind of flames for months. Mermaids, not the like, kid’s movie version. The drag you under the water to drown you kind. We’ve had shapeshifters, water monsters, dragons, dinosaurs… I think the only horror story creature we didn’t have is Frankenstein. But evil, deranged monster only concerned about his own desires, creating amalgamated creatures to enact his psychopathic will… yeah, almost daily.”

Dick stared at her blankly for a few moments, trying to process everything she just said. “… No horror movies, ever. Got it.” Dick nodded absentmindedly. “I never knew it was that bad there. Were you ever… did you ever… I mean… I don’t know what I mean.” There were so many questions he wanted to ask, but he didn’t know if he was ready to hear any of the answers. He wasn’t ready to hear the suffering Marinette had gone through. She shouldn’t have had to have gone through any.

“There are so many questions that could be. I’m going to need a bit more direction,” she chuckled mirthlessly. “Did I ever get hurt? Yes. Did I ever become an akuma? No. Did I ever kill someone as an akuma? Also no. What did it feel like? I don’t know. Was I the mermaid? I wasn’t. Did I get eaten by the dinosaur? Eh.” She made a more or less motion with her hand. “Did I ever date any of the heroes? Pass. Did I ever date any of the akumas? Once, to distract him so Chat could get him. Didn’t work. Did I ever have to watch my family get hurt or killed? So much. Did I have to watch my friends get hurt or killed? So often. Did I ever die?” She paused for a few seconds before shrugging in what she hoped was a nonchalant way. “Which one?”

Dick froze. His chest stopped rising and falling. He slowly licked his lips as he prepared them to form the words he didn’t want to say. “Let’s start with have you ever died?”

“Yeah, I didn’t think you’d miss that. I wasn’t thinking when I said it and then couldn’t take it back.” She looked away and took a deep breath. “Depends on the timeline. I don’t remember dying. I’m pretty sure that was a different me? Oh,” her face fell as if just remembering something. “I guess this me died a few times too. But I’m still here so that doesn’t count, right?”

He opened and closed his mouth a few times trying to formulate his reaction. She had died. She was gone. Why did everyone in his life die? He would have never gotten the chance to meet her, to imagine their life together, their baby. “… I’m pretty sure it does. How… um… but…”

“One of the ladybug miraculous’ powers is reversing the damage done by miraculous users, including deaths,” she explained calmly. “The Eifel Tower was destroyed and brought back sooo many times.”

Dick nodded at her words, not really registering them. She had died and she was so calm about it. He studied her more intently. She was looking away, her body tense but trying to appear relaxed. No, she wasn’t calm about it, she just wanted him to be calm. She didn’t want to scare him. He took a deep breath and smiled for her, but still didn’t know what to say. He hugged her closer instead.

She stared at the popcorn bowl for a moment and grabbed a handful, popping one of the kernels into her mouth. “We even had a popcorn monster once. That one was amazing though. Like… have you ever seen the episode of Scooby Doo where the monster trapped them in a giant vat of Scooby Snacks or where the monster was a giant Cotton Candy glob? It was like that. Hilariously ineffective. Everyone kind of enjoyed that one. Alix set up a projector and put on an impromptu outside movie experience.”

She was making a joke. She was trying to lighten the mood. He could work with that. “Well that,” he reached over and stole some popcorn from her, “sounds fun. And that cure thing would be helpful. It would certainly be useful to have here.” She chuckled at his attempt. “Okay, how about a comedy, or a romance, or a Disney movie? Something happy.”

Marinette nodded. “That sounds good.” She watched as he scrolled through the movie options. “Oooh, how about that one? I love the Princess Bride.”

Dick smiled, “As you wish.”

She looked up at him with a curious expression, unsure if he understood the significance of the phrase. She turned to the movie and snuggled further into his chest deciding he didn’t and that was okay. It was still really early in their relationship. There were things she loved about Dick and she loved being with him, but she didn’t know if she loved him. She imagined he felt the same. They were getting closer and she was positive they were going to get there. Until then, she enjoyed all the time she got to spend with him.

He ran languid fingers over her arm as the movie started, enjoying the way her skin felt under his fingers, relishing that he could feel her. That she was there warm in his arms, not laying cold and dead in a box. He slowly moved his fingers to stroke her side and circle her hip, down along her thigh and back up, dipping across her lower back. She ran her fingers up and down his chest in response. They slowly became firmer strokes, getting bolder and running along the hem of his shirt.

His touches slowly became more caressing and lingering, lengthening the path and getting brasher. He grazed along her breast as his hand passed. She swallowed heavily, pushing further into his chest and moved her leg over his, rubbing it up and down along his leg. Their eyes were still focused on the movie, but neither was watching anymore. They both waited for the other to be the first to break and move their supposedly innocent movie night into something more.

Dick was the first one to break when Marinette dipped her pinky just below the waistband of his pants as she traced his abs. Not far enough to touch anything sensitive, but enough to send his mind racing and let him know she was interested in doing more than watching the movie. He cupped her face, staring intently at her for a few seconds before diving in to kiss her. She melted into his kiss. He moaned as her tongue slipped in to meet his. She pushed up to deepen the kiss and grant him more access to explore her body with his hands.

He pushed their stockpile of pillows out of the way and twisted them to lay her down on the couch. Her hair splayed out on the remaining pillow and she looked up at him with half lidded eyes. He traced the lines of her cheek and jaw, looking at her in amazement. The light from the movie was reflecting off her hair and eyes. She had pulled her lower lip between her teeth as she gazed up at him lustfully. Her shirt was pulled down just enough to get a good view of her breasts and the top of her lacy bra. Her hands were running up and down his sides and back causing shock waves of pleasure through him. “God, you are so sexy,” he murmured almost subconsciously.

Her lips formed a sultry smile as her hands found their way to his neck and brought him back down to her lips. She whimpered as his lips caressed hers and his hands massaged her. She reached down and started pulling on his shirt. He caught her intention and ripped it off, throwing it away to the side. It landed over the television, obscuring their view of the movie neither had any intention of watching.

Chapter 12

Tags:

@dickinette-february @demonicbusiness @ichigorose @iloontjeboontje @ladybug-182 @toodaloo-kangaroo @dast218 @golden-promises @trippingovermyfeet @emimar7 @laurcad123

#maribat #Dickinette February #dickinette #Hope on Board #Knocked Up AU #platonic jasonette #platonic adrienette #prompt - pillows

128 notes · View notes

biclarisselarue · 4 years

Note

hi! I just wanted to say I love your writing 😳

mafia au + enemies to lovers + any prompt you want 💕

It’s been almost three hours now, and Percy feels as if he couldn’t move anymore even if he wanted to. Crouching behind a statue of some forgotten god is wreaking havoc on his back. If this potential lead turns out to be another dead end and he wasted a perfectly good evening staking out some dusty museum, even if that museum is owned by one of his best friends, he might have to officially retire from the private investigating business altogether. He’s only twenty-eight, he’s sure he could probably find some cushy job to pay the bills.

All thoughts of a comfortable office chair and a job where he isn’t shot at on the regular are chased from his mind as a shadowy figure creeps into the room. The movements are graceful, quieter than any normal human being has a right to be. Percy tenses, hand creeping to the gun by his hip. The room is dark, lit only by the slight shine the moon reflects through the expansive skylights above. His breath slows, watching as the lithe form approaches, their face turned upwards to a statue near his own. One more step brings them directly beneath a skylight, and his thief’s face is revealed.

Annabeth Chase.

Percy’s breath catches in his throat. Even knowing all of the dark rumors that follow her like shadows can’t stop him from admiring the cut of her jaw, the curve of her throat as she continues to stare at the statue, unaware of his presence. The most notorious mafia boss on this side of the country, standing less than three feet away from him. She’s dressed in all black, loose joggers and a warm turtleneck. He would laugh at the cliche if it weren’t for how dangerously prepared she looks, pistol tucked into the waistband of her pants.

They’re still for a long moment, each gazing at something beautiful. Eventually, Annabeth lets out a soft breath that sounds almost like a sigh and reaches out with gloved fingers to lightly touch the statue’s upturned hand. Her eyes close as if gathering strength, and Percy takes his moment. He steps out from his hiding spot and trains his gun on the back of her head, hands certain and steady.

“Turn around. Slowly.”

There’s not a twitch from the figure in front of him, no sign that she’s even slightly surprised to be caught here tonight. Still, Annabeth Chase does as he asks, keeping her hands where he can see them, away from her gun. Her eyes are bright under the moon, clever and and almost as sharp as her smile.

“Percy Jackson.”

That was not what he was expecting her to say, and she knows it. Her smile widens into a grin. Silence stretches between them as he waits for her to say something else, but she simply continues watching him, the picture of ease. It’s a challenge—one he quickly loses.

“So, you’re the one who’s been breaking in here almost every night for the past month then. I can’t fucking wait to tell Reyna I was actually right about a potential burglar. Though, I would figure you of all people would be more careful about dust patterns.”

A slender shoulder shrugs, unbothered. “Ah, you got me. Nobody else seemed to notice. Very smart of you.” There’s a hint of satisfaction in her voice, and Percy’s eyes narrow.

“Yeah, well, your casing of the joint is done now, so whatever job you’ve got planned is also finished. I’m bringing you in for breaking and entering.”

Her laugh is soft as she takes a step forward, and Percy’s aim lowers down to her heart in warning.

Annabeth’s eyes widen, too much for it to not be fake. “Alright, easy there. But you will have to come closer at some point if you don’t want to stand here until morning. I'm not exactly going to handcuff myself.”

Percy would be an idiot to trust anything she says, but she’s also right. His arms wouldn’t be able to stay raised like this for long enough, and he’s already tired from the late hour. Wrestling with the decision for a couple more seconds, he eventually moves cautiously towards her, watching carefully.

“Would it be too obvious to say no funny business?”

The smile she gives him is amused, and she watches him right back as he shifts the gun to one hand in order to pull out his handcuffs. “Almost certainly.” As he takes one of her wrists in his—and here he decidedly does not notice how warm and soft her skin is above the glove—she leans forward ever so slightly. She’s close enough that he can smell her perfume, a hint of lemon and something sweet.

“You’re wrong about one thing, you know.” Percy simply raises an eyebrow, bringing the handcuff up. “I wasn’t casing this place at all.”

When he looks back on it, the next few seconds seem to happen in slow motion. Annabeth tugs her wrist backwards, causing him to stumble closer, their chests almost touching. The scent of lemon becomes more prominent, and Percy hesitates. Then she disarms him with a twist of her other wrist, hooks a leg around his ankle to knock him off his feet, and brings her own pistol under his chin. His handcuff is locked around one of her wrists though, and he’ll take whatever win he can get. Percy locks the other side around his own wrist, smirking.

“Probably don’t want to have to drag around a dead body, do you?”

Annabeth quirks one eyebrow at him, and he feels the smugness fade slightly at the sight. Her knee is pressing into his chest just on the side of painful, but it’s positioned carefully to not do any real damage.

“You presumably have the key for these handcuffs somewhere on your person though, don’t you? Wouldn’t take long for me to find it after killing you, I bet.” He huffs, conceding the point. “Luckily for you, I’m not going to kill you tonight.”

“Oh? Do you have another date in mind? I’d love to mark it down on my calendar.”

She presses her pistol a little further into his skin, a warning not unlike his own from earlier. “Listen. I was hoping you’d notice the dust being misplaced, even if it took you longer than I anticipated. Maybe I should have picked someplace you frequent more often, but I suppose I have a soft spot for the Greeks and their art. Infamous, in part because someone made them untouchable, placing them here.”

As he looks up at her, caught in the trap she laid, he can’t help but agree. Chase had always seemed invincible, unknowable, but with her warm breath ghosting across his face, a crack forms in the illusion.

“So, why all this then? What could you possibly need from me that you went to so much trouble to orchestrate this whole thing away from prying eyes?”

There’s a pause, as if she’s debating whether to trust him, her mouth drawn into a frown. For the first time tonight, she seems fully human, uncertainty turning her into something touchable. Percy can feel her muscles are tense in every spot they’re touching, and he finally recognizes her body language. She has nowhere else to turn. She’s cornered, and she hates it. Another crack in the illusion.

“I want to hire you. You’re a PI, are you not? And I have reason to believe my brother is planning to kill me.”

Malcolm Chase, the second in command of her organization and not without substantial power and a devoted following of his own. No wonder she didn’t feel as if she could turn to anyone closer. If her own brother might be plotting her assassination, who else might be helping his betrayal?

“And why should I help you? You’re the leader of the mafia, and, if the rumors are to be believed, a cold-blooded murderer without anything that could even remotely be considered a heart.”

She sits off of him, tucking her pistol back into her waistband. Their hands are still connected by the metal circling them, and her pinky finger ghosts against his palm, too quickly for him to know if it was on purpose. He follows her lead, albeit a bit more slowly, and sits up. Annabeth’s gaze is pointed towards the darker corners of the room, as sharp as ever, but now he can see the desperation behind them.

“Because I’m asking you to. Because you’re the best in the business.”

The unspoken because I might die if you don’t hangs between them. The illusion shatters, and now he’s sitting beside someone knowable. Dangerous, yes, but human all the same.

“Fuck.” Percy reaches into his pocket and pulls out the key for the handcuffs, drawing Annabeth’s eyes back towards him. She looks as if she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, and he can’t tell if it’s an act. He can’t tell if that matters to him anymore. “I’ll help you. Now what?”

#i hope you like this!! thank you so much sending this in!! and for your kind words :')#this is most definitely inspired by my recent bingeing of the penumbra podcast #im on season 2 now anyway its fantastic highly recommend #i am a sucker for a mafia au #the whole thief/detective dynamic?? OOOH yes #percy jackson #annabeth chase #percabeth #pjo #fics #text #my ramblings #ask

158 notes · View notes