#hoo boy is it going to be a drinking night tonight

[hitomisuzuya]

HOO OK OK

Vampire Scara stalking you, you just think it’s a coincidence you keep bumping into him, at your favorite shop and cafe (scratch that all around town) one day you joke about him “stalking you” and he plays it off giving you his number, what you didn’t expect was for him to be in ur tree that night waiting for you to get home, ya he was stalking you and once you were pinned to your door he got a taste and he needed more of you

Vampire! Scaramouche x fem!reader. Some smut suggested at the end.

a/n: Ngl, when requests are worded like this, it makes me smile. I wasn't sure if you wanted smut or not, but just in case, I put some suggested smut at the end.

At first you thought maybe it was a coincidence. Once at the bookstore, and once at the cafe. That was when you first started seeing Scaramouche. He always watched you at a distance at first, the intensity of his gaze pulling your attention in his direction instantly.

However, he was gone before you could ever take a second look.

The sightings continued, going beyond the definition of what you would call chance encounters. You were positive now that you were seeing him everywhere you went.

Absolutely everywhere.

Not only at the bookstore, and the cafe but at restaurants you liked to eat at, places that you hung out with your best friend, you even saw him a concert you went to.

He seemed to be getting closer and closer to you each time. And to top it all off, you swore you thought you saw him watching you at home up in a tree. The feeling of his gaze was unmistakable.

Fast forward to the here and now.

The person behind the counter was giving you your usual hot chocolate order at the cafe. "Hold on, let me find some change for you," You said, giving him a polite smile.

A credit card was suddenly placed on the counter. "Let me pay for that for you."

There it was. That unmistakable gaze. Slowly, you looked up. There was Scaramouche, standing right there next to you, offering to pay for your drink. "It's you. You know, sometimes I think you are stalking me."

Scaramouche smirked at you, one that sent a tingle up your spine. His eyes suddenly flicked to your neck for a moment. "You think so? I just happen to frequent the same places as you. It's a small world," He replied, taking his eyes off of your neck. "Tell you what, if you think this guy you think is me is still stalking you, give me a call. I'll deal with him."

Taking his receipt from the barista, Scaramouche wrote his phone number on the back, and slid it across the counter to you.

"Thank you, uh, I'm afraid I don't know your name," You admitted sheepishly. You just accused this breathtaking, captivating boy of stalking you without even knowing his name.

"Scaramouche. My name is Scaramouche," He took your cup of hot chocolate and set it down in front of you. "Take care on your way home at night. It's dangerous for someone like yourself to be walking home alone."

You nodded. "I'll be careful. And thank you for the drink. I'll have to treat you to one sometime."

Putting the receipt with his name on in your back pocket, you left and started for home. Scaramouche watched you go, the smirk widening on his face.

Your choice of words were so amusing to him. What a naive, innocent little thing you were. You didn't know just how right you were, and you believed him so easily. You by far his very favorite by far.

And tonight, it was all over for you.

You. Your neck.

They were going to be his tonight. Your blood was no doubt going to taste the sweetest to him.

Scaramouche took the short cut back to your home, and went up into his usual tree, the same one he always watched you from. He could practically hear your blood pumping through your veins in his ears the closer you got.

You walked right passed the tree, missing him entirely. You were so careless to be looking down at your phone while you walked.

That left your back nice and open for him.

You saw Scaramouche's reflection on the screen of your phone behind you. You didn't have any time to react before he was turning you around, pining you against your front door.

"Surprise," He purred, grasping your chin and turning your head, "I can't believe how easily you believed me. Now, about that drink you said you were going to treat me to."

No sooner when your heart started to pound in your chest, he sank his fangs into your neck. You gasped in pain. The want to fight him was fading as quickly as it had come.

Scaramouche biting your neck felt..incredible. The feeling of him sucking, his tongue lapping greedily at your blood, the soft groan of bliss muffled into your neck. All of it felt so good.

He could feel you relaxing under his grip. It added such an intoxicating taste to your blood. They always fought, but not you.

Who knew submission could taste that fucking good?

Scaramouche sucked on your neck for a few moments more before he pulled away, licking his lips. He curled his fingers under your chin, making you look at him. Your eyes looked clouded over, and it made him laugh darkly with glee.

"How about we head inside, hm?" He purred, to which you wordlessly nodded. "There is a vein in the inner thigh that have been dying to try. I'll be sure to bite into it right when you are cumming hard on my fingers. That sounds appealing to you, no?"

Your screams of pleasure were going to sound so sweet while he devoured more than just your blood. It truly was over for you now.

You were all his now. Your blood. Your body.

In every way.

[the-authoress-writes]

Dangerous Games

Tom “Iceman” Kazansky x Navy Nurse Wife!reader

Synopsis: The saying goes “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes”.

Well, Mrs. Thomas Kazansky is about to learn another version of this saying; “Play dangerous games, win dangerous prizes”.

But she doesn’t exactly mind.

Warnings: Mrs. Kazansky gets a little frisky in public, but nothing explicit, some cursing, and a little bit of steaminess, but again, nothing explicit.

Author’s Note: “I don’t write reader fic”, she said.

“I really don’t”, she said.

But here we are.

And I entirely blame both @valmare and Val himself.

I wrote this as a writing exercise, actually, because @valmare and I have slightly different approaches to Tom Kazansky; she has a more dominant take on him, while mine is more romantic and soppy, but no less passionate (I think).

I wrote this just to see if I could somehow combine both traits/takes in one story.

And… hoo, boy, I like to think I was successful.

That, combined with reading one of my grandmother’s ancient Silhouette Romance novels, I thought it was about time that the turns were tabled on the men.

Let’s be the ones to snap them like twigs, and not the other way around.

Without further ado, here we are!

“So what’s on the agenda today,” she asked her husband, as he sat at the kitchen counter eating his breakfast, while she stood on the other side, finishing her cup of yogurt, before she had to head to work for the shift she was called to fill in at the last minute yesterday.

“Well,” Tom began, after swallowing, “not much, just a meeting which apparently couldn’t wait until Monday, in the afternoon—other than that, nothing else really.

And uh, Mav and the guys are coming back home tonight; like I said last week, Sli and I were going to greet them, and they’re going out for drinks at the O Club later, but I can tell them I can’t go—”

“No, you go, enjoy yourself, I know it’s been a while since you last saw Mav and the flyboys,” she smiled.

In a rare occurrence, Mav and Tom’s deployments didn’t match up, leaving him and Slider on shore, while Mav and Merlin, Wood and Wolf were at sea.

She could hear the calls Tom would make in the evenings to the Vinson, to the various officers who owed him, already rather influential at the recently-received rank of Lieutenant Commander, for updates on Mav in particular.

She’d heard the stories both from the man himself, and from Tom, how the Mitchell name hung like an albatross around the diminutive pilot’s neck, how his basic medical needs were overlooked by dint of his “traitorous” surname.

As a nurse, especially a Navy nurse, it was beyond unconscionable.

She was glad that Mav had Tom as a friend, and it touched her to see the care he extended to his whole TOPGUN class.

“Such a Mother Goose,” Mav and Slider would say, both with sadness, but the former with a soul-deep sadness.

“Are you sure, milaya?” Tom’s voice brought her back to the present, as he came around the counter to step into her personal space, his hands on her waist, infusing her whole being with the warmth that only he could give her. “Because I’m really feeling bad that I have basically a whole day off, and you have to work.

We could have a movie night with some popcorn and ice cream, and you can talk about how people like me are the craziest sons of bitches around,” he grinned, referring to how they met a little over three years ago, after a little training mishap. “I’ll gladly keep your misery company.”

She smiled, resting her hand on the chiseled plane of his bare chest, as her index finger idly played with the chain of his dog tags, “No, like I said, even last week, you go and enjoy yourself with the boys.” Her smile took on a more devilish quirk, “Besides, you can make it up to me later.”

Tom raised an eyebrow, “Oh, I can, can I?”

“I’m pretty sure you’ll manage,” she teasingly replied.

“Uh-huh,” he breathed, stepping impossibly closer, “and how exactly do you want me to make it up to you?”

“You’ll think of something.”

“How about a little down payment, then?”

He didn’t even bother waiting for her positive, always positive, response before one hand was buried in her hair, and his lips were on hers.

It was a kiss full of the easy confidence of a man who knew he was given what he took, and the passion and devotion of one who knew what a gift that was.

She could have gotten lost in her husband’s embrace and kiss for eternity, but the rude realization that she had a shift to prepare for, made her reluctantly, oh-so-reluctantly, push him away.

“As much as I’d really love to continue this, I can’t.

I have to go.”

He pouted like a child, the effect amusing to see on his already-full, kiss-swollen lips, and she gently carded her hand through his hair, soft and slightly curling without the gel, pushing it away from where it flopped onto his forehead. “I know most of this day didn’t pan out how we wanted it to, but we’ll make the best of it—we always do.”

“I know.

You’re sure it’s okay with you if I go out with the boys tonight?”

“Yes, Tom, how many times do I have to tell you?

Go have fun—but not too much fun,” she smiled.

He leaned forward, tucking his head into her neck, inhaling deeply, “You’re the only one I want to have fun with.”

“I would hope so, Thomas Vasilyevich,” she replied, lightly poking him in the side, “seeing as I’m your wife.”

“Oof,” he mock-winced, drawing back to look her in the eyes, “Russian naming me, huh?

Well, Mrs. Kazanskaya, two can play at that game,” he rejoined, leaning in to kiss her again.

However, she pushed him away, laughing, “You are a menace, Thomas Jacob Kazansky!

I have to go!”

“Worth a shot,” he laughed, letting her go.

She gathered her lunch into her bag, along with her paperwork, and shouldered the tote, before turning back to face Tom, who was leaning against the counter, long, sweatpants-clad legs crossed at the ankles, mirroring his arms, a knowing smirk on his lips. “Not going to kiss me goodbye?”

With a sigh, she asked, “If I kiss you goodbye, will you keep your hands to yourself?”

He clicked his tongue, “You drive a hard bargain, lyubimaya moya, but I’ll try.”

“Don’t try, just do,” she replied, amending one of Mav’s favorite sayings, stepping closer to peck him on the lips.

True to his word, he didn’t move an inch, but the regret on his face made her have to resist the temptation to kiss him and say to hell with her shift today. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

And here, a sudden idea struck her. “Hey, wait a minute, you said that you guys were going to the O Club, right?”

“Yes,” he replied, drawing out the syllable. “Why?”

“Because I was thinking that if I can, maybe I can meet you guys there, join you flyboys.”

Tom’s eyes lit up. “That’d be great!”

“You guys won’t mind?”

“I won’t mind,” he shook his head.

She good-naturedly rolled her eyes, “I know you won’t mind, what about the guys?”

“I’m sure the guys won’t mind, but they can take it up with me if they don’t like it.

Try to make it?”

“I will—hopefully, I’ll see you later.

And you’re sure you don’t need your other girl today?” she asked, double checking that he didn’t need his Chevelle, since her car was in the shop that week.

“No,” he shook his head, “Slider’s picking me up, you take her.

I love you, milaya.”

“I love you too.”

With that farewell, she dashed out the door, fleeing her own house like Lot, because she knew she’d never leave if she looked back at Tom.

Chaos.

That was what her shift at NMCSD was like.

Some unlucky or hapless person somewhere had probably said “It sure is quiet around here,” or some other variation of that phrase, and brought the wrath of the medical gods down upon them.

She’d had no less than ten emergencies to deal with, and at the end of her shift, she felt—no—knew—she deserved a drink.

A quick glance at her watch showed that it was just before 1800–from her experience, the carriers usually docked at 1500 or 1600, which meant they should all be at the O Club already.

Not wanting to give the charge nurse an opportunity to call her for something else, she practically ripped off her uniform, changing into the nicer spare clothes she kept in her locker just in case she had somewhere to be that wasn’t the grocery or straight home.

It was a worn, but well-fitting pair of jeans, sensible shoes, a tank top, and finally, a white buttondown with vertical blue stripes which she pilfered from Tom’s closet, that she never saw him wear.

After throwing on the shirt, leaving it unbuttoned, and tucking in her tank, she hastily walked (okay, ran) out of NMCSD, and headed to her parking spot.

God had mercy on her, as the traffic was light all the way to the O Club, the Almighty surely knowing that she’d reached her limits of bullshittery, that all she wanted after this day was a stiff drink, and her husband’s company, despite the fact that there would be others around, friends as they were to her.

It was a Saturday night, and the parking lot was full, but she managed to find a spot on the far end of the lot, a slight sheen of sweat breaking on her skin despite the AC, as she maneuvered in, not wanting to scratch her husband’s beloved car.

The flaring, insistent ache in her feet was testament to the long walk to the entrance, exposing just how many people had to be here, and true enough, once she pushed the doors open, the bar was hopping.

She moved through the crowded bar, searching for Merlin, Slider, or Tom—there’d be little hope of finding Wood or Wolf, and no hope of finding Mav, in this press of people.

She was heading through the crowd towards the bar when she smacked straight into someone.

An apology was on her lips, when the person turned, and she heard, “Hey, Mrs. Ice, how are you!”

And she looked up, up, up into the smiling face of Sam “Merlin” Wells.

“Hey, Merls, how are you, how was deployment?” she said, hugging the ludicrously tall RIO.

“Ehh, hot, as usual, but otherwise, uneventful; just running our CAPs, and buzzing the tower every now and then.”

She guffawed, “That’s Mav for you—I don’t know who’s crazier; Mav, or you, for willingly sitting in the same jet as him.”

Merlin leaned down, “Tell you a secret?”

“Sure.”

“Probably me, because I actually enjoy it,” he murmured.

She chuckled, “Oh, Samuel, never change.”

“Hey, what am I doing, let me get you to the guys’ table!

Come on!!”

He put his hand on her shoulder to make sure she didn’t get lost in the crowd, and led her to a table in the back. “Guys, look who I found!”

“Well, hey, if it isn’t my favorite Ice Queen!” Mav cried, leaping to his feet and pulling her into a hug.

“Hey, Mav, how are you?” she beamed, glad to see her husband’s best friend and wingman.

“Better, after seeing your pretty face,” the black-haired pilot grinned a grin which would probably make quite a few people here swoon, if its full force were turned on them.

She smacked his shoulder, though she was unable to stop her smile, “Stop it, you incorrigible flirt, you’re not my type, and even if you were, I’m very happily taken.”

“Ah, you wound me, my fair Ice Queen,” Mav dramatically clutched his chest.

“You’ll live,” she teasingly rolled her eyes.

“Mind getting your hands off my wife, so I can say hello to her, Mav?”

A glance behind Mav showed Tom standing there, a sight in his summer whites, an arch expression on his face, but those who knew him would be able to see the glowing humor in his eyes—but over all, the joy and love.

Mav moved aside, gesturing grandly at her. “All yours.”

“You bet your ass, Mitchell,” Tom nodded.

“Excuse me, I have a very nice ass, I have that on good authority,” the other pilot affrontedly stated as he walked backwards to his seat.

The voice of Charles “Chipper” Piper called, “Ugh, come on, Mav, no one wants to hear about your pasty ass.”

“You’re one to talk, Chip,” Marcus “Sundown” Williams chuckled.

Tom shook his head and stepped closer, making everything else fade into the background, his beautiful smile on his face. “You came.”

“I needed to,” she sighed, “I need a drink.

And the whole you being here is a nice bonus.”

He blushed slightly, ducking his head. “Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Well, come on, let’s get you that drink,” he replied, leading her to the table, around which sat Mav, Merlin, Slider, Wolf, Chipper, and Sundown.

“Hey guys,” she waved, taking the seat beside Tom.

They all greeted her as Tom called over one of the waitresses, ordering his usual vodka on the rocks along with her usual Old Fashioned.

When it arrived, she shocked them all by drinking more than half of it in one sitting, heavily setting the glass down on the table.

“That kind of day, huh, sweetheart?” Tom asked, his voice full of sympathy, warmth, and the slightest hint of laughter.

She turned a baleful look on him. “What do you think?”

He blinked, obviously weighing his words, the rest of the flyboys holding their breath. “I think maybe I should get you another one when you’re done with that.”

“God, I love you, Tom Kazansky,” she breathed.

The table collectively exhaled, as Tom grinned. “Aren’t I lucky?”

The night wore on, dinner eventually being ordered from the bar’s kitchen for everyone, and Merlin was the first to leave, saying that his wife was coming home late that night from taking care of a medical emergency with her mother, who lived on the other side of the States, and he wanted to be there to greet her.

The flyboys tossed peanuts teasingly at Merlin, Chipper and Mav whooping, Merlin flipping them the bird with both hands as he laughed, and said goodnight.

The remaining group continued on, and the vodkas Tom had drunk had loosened him up—he wasn’t drunk by any means, but his laughter was a bit louder, his eyes a bit brighter.

He was telling a story about one of the instructors from the TOPGUN session he’d been asked to help out with, since he wasn’t deployed this rotation.

It was a story she’d already heard, and so she allowed his words to fade slightly, just watching him as he spoke, fiddling with the straw of the second Old Fashioned Tom had ordered for her.

She smiled as he gestured animatedly, making the light glint off the gold ring on his left hand, which matched the one on hers.

Seeing it did funny things to her stomach, seeing the tangible proof that that man was hers.

Add to that the fact that Tom was in his summer whites… it was a cocktail more intoxicating than anything the bar behind her could ever offer.

She exhaled evenly, taking a sip of the water she’d switched to after her second Old Fashioned, admiring the figure he cut, an exemplar of US Naval excellence.

If you asked her later, she wouldn’t be able to tell you why she did it.

But the devilish thought of wanting to see if she could tilt him off-kilter entered her mind regardless, and she hid a smile behind the rim of her water glass.

She nonchalantly shifted her chair closer to Tom and innocently placed a hand above his knee, making him glance at her, and offer her a fleeting smile, while continuing the story.

Ever so carefully, she inched her way towards the inseam of his trousers, rubbing small circles as she went, which got her a minuscule narrowing of his eyes and a barely-there glance as he spoke.

She smiled back, stilling her hand, and he continued.

Once he had relaxed into his chair again, she began moving again, shifting her hand higher and higher, letting her fingernails catch repeatedly on the seam.

He cleared his throat and soldiered on, shifting in his seat, but the slightest tone of strain was beginning to creep into his voice now, and she mustered all the stoicism she’d learned from her husband to keep her face straight.

As her hand moved further up his inseam, she was treated to the sight of his jaw tensing, the sheen of sweat gathering at his temples, the movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed thickly, the sound of the strain in his voice, and the hitch in his breath.

She knew that if she continued this, she was playing a very dangerous game, but she couldn’t bring herself to care at that moment.

So she inched further up, letting her fingernails dig into the seam, flicking it almost audibly, which elicited a cough from her husband.

Slider whacked Tom on the back, saying, “You okay, Ice?”

“Yeah,” he rasped, “just—just swallowed the wrong way.”

At this point, she was mere inches away from being so obscenely high on his thigh that the other flyboys would probably see, but just to see what Tom’s reaction would be, she made as though she were going to go there.

Smoothly, he placed his hand atop hers, somehow managing to conceal the fact that he had plucked her hand from basically his lap, bringing it up to his lips as he finished the story, his eyes stormy as he cut his gaze to her.

Maybe, she realized, as she looked into his tempestuous eyes, maybe she had made a very, very big mistake.

After another hour, they began to wrap up, hugging and slapping each other on the back, and for the first time since she’d met Tom Kazansky, she was not looking forward to being alone with him.

When the final farewells had been spoken, Tom wrapped an arm around her shoulder, walking them towards the distinct shape of his Chevelle, visible now that they were some of the last people at the bar.

“I can drive us, if you want,” she offered, testing the waters.

“No, I’ll be the one.

Keys.”

His tone was unreadable, and she fished the keys out of her pocket, handing them to him.

He led her to the passenger’s side, but just before she reached for the handle to open the shotgun door, she found herself pressed against the back passenger door, looking up into her husband’s face.

She refused to buckle at his impassive stare, looking evenly into his eyes; depthless blue, the color of the sea at twilight, in the dim illumination afforded by the streetlamps.

His hand shifted, and her breath hitched, but he only moved his hand past her, the familiar click of the Chevelle’s door release echoing in the thick San Diego night air.

Tom pulled the door further open, inclining his head and stepping back.

She swallowed, but moved to sit in the passenger’s seat, the sound of the shutting door feeling like some sort of passage of sentence.

Moments later, he opened the driver’s side door, sliding in and shutting it, however, he didn’t start the engine.

She held her breath, waiting to see what he would do next, but he only started the car, the purr of the Chevelle doing nothing to ease her tension, serving only to ratchet it up, the familiar streets leading home passing by.

The silence in the car was almost a living entity, made worse by the fact that Tom kept his eyes firmly fixed on the road before them, and she would be lying if she said that her heart wasn’t racing.

She was beginning to see the reasoning behind her husband’s callsign, between his nonchalant attitude and his unerring patience to wait her out, wait for her to slip.

Well.

She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

…

She hoped so, at any rate.

She’d always been weak for him, honestly, and she suspected she always would be.

Much too soon, they pulled into their driveway, and Tom cut the engine, leaving her in silence, literally and figuratively, as he stepped out without a word.

She briefly debated whether or not to stay in the car, but knew deep down that that was not an option, so she got out of the Chevelle, also making her way inside.

After locking up the doors and checking the rest of the house, she exhaled and looked warily up at the stairs. “‘Screw your courage to the sticking place,’ woman,” she murmured, striding determinedly up the stairs.

The lights were on in the bedroom, and she saw Tom at the dresser, keeping his submariner in its box, his face somehow still impassive.

She moved to the bed, picking up the pile of night clothes she’d laid out that morning, muttering, “I’m going to the bathroom,” and darted towards the en suite.

However, before she could make it there, a hand wrapped around her upper arm, and once again, she got the breath knocked out of her, finding her body pressed against the wall behind her by the solid mass of her husband before her, his hands on either side of her head.

“What was that about tonight, hmm, milaya?” he spoke lowly, making a shiver run down her spine.

“What was what?” she replied, affecting a light tone.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he replied, implacable.

“Oh, that,” she shrugged, caving slightly.

“Yes, that.

And just what were you thinking?”

“Ehhh—nothing much, really.” Well, she mentally admitted, that much was true.

“Uh-huh.

See, I think you were trying to get me to lose it,” he declared.

She somehow managed to muster up an innocent expression. “Uh, nope, not at all.”

“Sure.

So your hand at my inseam was just complete coincidence, was it?”

“Has to be.”

He stared her down just like he had in the O Club parking lot, attempting to keep his expression stoic, but this close, she could see his eyes—how there was only a thin ring of midnight gray, his pupils blown wide from the desire he was trying to keep down.

She inhaled sharply, her lips parting, and his gaze immediately locked onto the sight.

When he spoke next, his voice was low and trembling. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

“I think I have some kind of idea,” she breathlessly murmured.

“Fuck—” he whispered brokenly before kissing her like he was at 38,000 feet and she was the oxygen he needed to breathe.

Caught in his riptide, she was helpless but to hold onto him.

Air surged back into her lungs as his kisses moved down to her neck, only to be stolen from them moments later, a cry halfway between pain and pleasure carried on her breath, when his ardor seared into the delicate skin there.

“That hand of yours—and you wearing my shirt—you drive me crazy,” he spoke into the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

“I think you like it, though,” she whimpered, hitching her legs around his unfairly narrow waist, as he adjusted his arms to hold her up.

“Damn it, I fucking do,” he groaned, moving them towards the bed.

They had just collapsed onto the comforter, kissing like teenagers, when he broke away to breathe, “You’re still going to pay for what you did, though, you’re not getting out of that.”

“Oh, am I, because it seems to me like your mouth is writing checks your body can’t cash… Commander,” she cocked her eyebrow.

His jaw dropped slightly, followed by a shaky inhalation. “…I shouldn’t have told you about my rank thing.”

Her smirk was halfway to a grin by now. “What are you going to do about it?”

He tilted his head. “You’re asking for it, at this point.”

“Well, then, do what you’re going to do, flyboy; that’s an order.”

A wicked smirk quirked the corner of his lips, full of promise. “Yes, Ma’am.”

NMCSD: Naval Medical Center San Diego

The USS Carl Vinson is a Nimitz-class aircraft carrier commissioned in 1982, and she is still on active duty.

I stole @valmare’s headcanon that Tom drives a Chevelle, because if it’s good enough for Mir, it’s good enough for me!

I’m so sorry Mir!

According to a production photo, Tom’s full name is Thomas Jacob Kazansky, but since I headcanon him as Russian, his patronymic is missing.

So thusly, you have Thomas Jacob Vasilyevich Kazansky.

When Mrs. Kazansky refers to Tom as Thomas Vasilyevich, that is considered a casual, informal, yet somehow in its own way, formal, method of referring to someone.

There’s cultural rules about that.

Tom calls Mrs. Kazansky “Mrs. Kazanskaya”, which follows the Russian and Slavic convention of gendered surnames.

CAPs: Combat Air Patrols

Summer whites are the white version of the khaki uniforms, and you can see them in The O Club bar scene in Top Gun ‘86.

“Screw your courage to the sticking place” is a quote from Shakespeare’s “Macbeth”.

Did I basically steal a line from Top Gun, and completely change the context of it?

Yes.

Yes, I did.

Mrs. Kazansky calls Tom simply “Commander” instead of Lieutenant Commander, because of the convention regarding “double-barreled” ranks.

Russian Glossary

Disclaimer: endearments and translations taken from Google—please don’t hesitate to correct me if I’m wrong, which, odds are, I am.

Milaya: dear, darling (there are other translations of this word, however)

Lyubimaya moya: my darling/my one and only sweetheart

Taglist

@valmare

If you’d like to join my taglist, just send me an ask!

[papermint-airplane]

Didn't have much time to play tonight so I decided I'd have a chill CAS night. Just mess around a little and see what happens.

Ok I know what you're thinking.

You're thinking, "Laura" (That's me. That's my name) "Laura, where are her eyebrows?"

And like, that's a whole thing, you see. Her eyebrows entered a contest hosted by a popular soft drink manufacturer never thinking they'd win in a million years, but sure enough, they did. An all expenses paid trip to Bermuda. So that's where they are now. They're relaxing on the beach, enjoying fruity cocktails, and not being on this Sim's face.

Anyway her name is Valerie Vertigo. Here's her outfit.

I was going for like a rich-bitch-but-make-it-kinda-goth-but-not-really-but-kinda-but-also-low-key-trashy vibe.

I ran out of time but you just wait until I create her husband. Hoo boy. Something...something's gonna happen for sure.

[sebsxphia]

hi seb!! i absolutely adore your writing and think you’re so fun! i hope you’re doing well and have had a lovely night. i was wondering how you think poly! squad would celebrate your birthday? it’s mine on the 18th of this month and i’ve had them on my mind constantly,, lots of love to you!

hi my dear anon!! <33

i’m so sorry i got round to this so late and i’ve passed your birthday, but i wish you a very belated happy birthday and i hope you had a wonderful day!!!! 🎁 sending you lots of love!! <33

thank you so much for your kind words as well omg, i’m so pleased to hear you enjoy it so much and i hope you enjoy the below!! 💌💖

Poly!squad celebrating your birthday would go all out. They bring you your favourite breakfast in bed and shower you with gifts in the morning. You’re laying between all of them and they love watching your face light up with joy when you open another present.

Jake got you thin silver banded ring with all of their initials engraved on the inside. Bob got you a new polaroid camera and some records you’d wanted for ages.

Nat got you six new books that had been on your reading list for ages and Bradley got you a hand made set of cup and saucers that you saw months ago on your holiday to Italy and absolutely fell in love with. He snuck away one evening to purchase them for you.

He also got you a woolen throw to wrap around yourself when you sit in your little library, read your books and sip on your tea.

They all took the day off so they could spend it with you. They ask what you want to spend your day doing, it’s completely your choice.

When you go downstairs your dining room is covered in bunting and balloons, with the biggest one tied to the back of your chair. When you went to bed last night, none of this was there, so either they all got up stupidly early or did it last night.

Either way you’re squealing and smothering their faces in kisses telling them how grateful you are.

They take you out to the beach as your chosen activity for the day. Packing towels, some drinks and again, your favourite food. You spend the day lounging in the sun or screaming with laughter when you’re in the water and Jake throws you over his shoulder for the fifth time.

After your day out, Nat treats you to a new set of lingerie while she tells the others to meet you two back home. She reminds you that whatever you buy here today, you get to wear for them all tonight.

When you get home, you’re greeted by your lovers and all of your family and friends yelling, “surprise!” A whole surprise birthday bash has been thrown for you.

And you can’t forget the birthday sex. Hoo boy.

Once everyone has filtered out and the last people have left, they’re giving you an entire night of praise, love and attention all on you. That is before all of them go feral seeing you in your new set.

[aamethyst000]

Nov 1, 22 3:10pm

our internet has been out for 3 days now, my little brother is getting impatient and I am starting to feel bored. I am reading my books but it doesn't feel the same as I am on my phone. i am also listening to music a lot more that I normally do, and I am getting bored from that. I almost want to take a nap but I don't want to. I am just bored and u just may have to put up with it for now. the wiring is broken somewhere in the waters. I found out from the lady at the front desk (clinic) and they are waiting for some dude to come up from Vancouver to fix the thing. so it may be longer than we all like. oh well, I think I just may nap anyway. gor stuff to do but I can't seem to get up and do them.

I noticed I seem to put myself on a time limit when it comes to my own chores. I have to remind myself every now and again when I do realize this.

3:25pm - we are just having a toke, I almost had a nap. and hoo boi is it ever chilly in the house. on my second cup of coffee, I think coffee is starting to make me sleepy, however, I get a headache if I don't drink my usual amount of coffee. I may have to think about slowing down a bit before picking back up again. oh, yeah, and I woke up really late this morning. I woke up at 11am, lately, I have been waking up late. yet, I have been going to bed at like 1-2am and my alarm clocks are L O U D man. my phone is even on my bed, I mean, cmon. I wanna know what is going on.

5:35pm - I. am. bored. I know what I can do, but idk if I can find the energy to do so. I also have to cook dinner, so, there's that. u was very tempted to take a nap, I was tired enough and I was not doing anything. as you can tell. I did not, in fact, take a fckn nap. I'm thinking I should go make another pot of coffee in a bit. just so I can keep myself awake. it has been very quiet in the house, quite fascinating when you are experiencing it. my cat has been napping by me all day today, I have been listening to music nonstop. been feeling really fidgety too, I think that is why I want to nap.

10:22pm - managed to stay up to cook. we had BBQ chicken and rice! it was so fckn yummy~ I am just now piling the dishes to clean and put away tomorrow. assuming that the internet won't go back on until who knows when. so I'll be finding ways to keep myself busy until the internet is back on. I am on my fourth cup of coffee, over my limit on coffee intake. oh well, needed it for tonight. I have been listening to music all fckn day just to keep my thoughts somewhat calm, I was gonna say in line but that felt wrong to say lol so, yeah. that has been my day today. slow and boring. I actually had to deal with my boredom and I didn't like that at all. no wonder we as humans get really upset when we are not kept busy. like damn, my brain cannot rest for shit.

1:40am - welp, I thought I was going to go to bed early, apparently not. Danny was late going to bed, only because we ate pretty late. I get the feeling danny snooped around in my room again for my stash. he is not going be my roommate if he keeps this up. the citywest website says the estimated time it'll be fixed is sometime after 2pm, im thinking it'll go back on late at night again. I wonder what the damage was after the literal storm we had a few days ago. and it's only Wednesday for crying out loud lmao

[adrianners]

(title written after the end) Strap in for the fucking roller coaster, kids

Men’s SP liveblog below the cut (Deepest apologies to mobile users if it doesn’t work because this is LONG. It is right there in the code, I swear.)

Probably not going to comment on every single skater, just what strikes me.

Chafik: Don’t like the taxi driver mime, not wild about the program, but damn if I don’t want more people to take this kind of “risk” with their music. There definitely looks to be a difference in nerves between people who got to do the team event and those that didn’t.

Vincent!!!!! Did that! I am so proud! I do not like “Chasing Cars.” He makes me love it.

Watching Denis Ten struggle is honestly harder for me than watching Patrick fall. I’m not ready to see the mid-20s generation get outpaced by teenagers. I’m so glad he was able to get it together and earned high enough PCS that he may yet make the FS. [I am hearing that Johnny DARED badmouth this program. Get fucked, dude, you know exactly how rough his season has been. I even hear super casual fans grumping about what dicks you and Tara are. How fucking dare you after what commentators put you through?]

So good to see MCM skate basically clean! It won’t get him into the FS by any measure, but he can feel good about that performance.

[Blast from the past: At Sochi, 60 points made the FS. Real possibility that 70 is gonna be the threshold this time. Future Anna here to say it was 74. What even. Gonna look up what that would have been in Sochi... 15th, ahead of Jeremy Abbott.]

Han! Lookit that 3A! Go, go, go! ...Oof. Still. This is more stable than he’s been. I love this step sequence and the way he throws himself into it.

Julian! Lovely! Not on board for the whiny boy music of my college years becoming the new trend in figure skating tho. Will still take it over “Feelin’ Good.” (Moris gets no commentary later. I have decided. I don’t care how he does, I’m not sayin’ nothin’.)

Why does bad music keep happening to good skaters? “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” does not deserve some kind of weird orchestral cover with an Ed Sheeran-sounding vocalist. Brendan, honey, you’re wonderful, but you’re killing me.

[INSERT DELIBERATE, GRUMPY SILENCE HERE.]

Keegan has such a great Gene Kelly affect going on here, I’m willing to forgive the painfully obvious choices of this whole program and its blatant Browning rip-off. We’ll call it an homage, k?

[Resurfacing break. Jesus. Denis isn’t going to make the free skate, is he? I don’t even... know what to do with that. It would take catastrophe for fully half of group 3, and I would never wish that on anybody.]

My stream must be falling waaaaay behind realtime, because Jackie is updating with like a minute to go on my screen. Unless he just threw Junhwan’s layout up there super quick without making sure he didn’t, like, fall on the final spin or something weird.

Confession: I still like “Wonderwall.” Just... not this one. (Bonus: I also still like “Don’t Look Back in Anger.” Don’t @ me.)

YEAH, MISHA! You got it done! So lovely! That PCS shoulda been higher, but isn’t that always the way.

So many people having clean programs or hanging in there tonight, and I’m just sitting here like... why did this have to happen to Denis? It’s making it so hard to be happy for people.

Daniel, the new haircut totally suits this costume and program. I approve. So glad he’s doing better. I had to tab out of Skate America the second he fell because it was so obviously going to be either a WD or staggering to the finish line, and I couldn’t handle it.

Hoo boy, group 4. Guys, I only have one bottle of wine in the house, finished off the rum while I was sick, and have maybe 200ml of vodka left. What do I do?

BEAUTIFUL, ADAM! Shame about the 3A, but it could’ve been worse. The only even marginally acceptable thing about that stupid overhead camera is that it shows how perfectly centered his layback was, like damn. I am... once again suspicious of those PCS marks. He didn’t quite have his Nat’s performance, but I was thinking more like 45. It has seemed uniformly low today, at least, but still.

New SB for Aliev! Bored as hell of his music, but well done!

Patrick. Oh god, I’m scared. 4T! 3Lz+3T! GOD FUCKING DAMN THE 3A TO HELL. He is so damn good, though. You’d never know it happened from any other movement afterward. There is no question that he earns every scrap of PCS.

Oh, Keiji. No pops, at least, and he got it together in the end. Glad he got to work out the worst of the nerves in the lower pressure of the team event, hope they don’t show up in the free.

Not quite the team event for Alexei, but nice and even overall. I love, love, love this program. Again, that PCS is annoyingly low, but what else is new tonight?

Breaking news: The 3A is hereby cancelled. I love Deniss, but I sometimes wonder if that’s mostly because he’s such a Stephane chameleon. (Speaking of Stephane, what a casual look today, gosh! Yikes, no hug in the K&C. Brutal.)

[Resurfacing break. I am opening that wine.]

oh god here we go. yuzu looks so good in warm-up please let this go well for him. Nathan, dude, I saw the new duds on Jackie’s Twitter earlier, but... I can see what you’ve been going for with this look, and it just isn’t quite happening still. You’re aiming for po-mo figure skating revolution, but it keeps landing in the “funky” pseudo-hipster section of JC Penney instead.

oh god oh god. I wish Yuzu could have Pooh-san right now because it would make me feel better. THE 3A IS HEREBY UNCANCELLED. He was so, so calm and I’m crying and I’ve only had one glass of wine which is NOT ENOUGH FOR THIS KIND OF EMOTION. Jackie says “gorgeous, magnificent, stunning” and just... yes. Doesn’t look like the TES will be enough for another WR, but damn is he back. Just hang onto that for the FS, okay?

gdi, the camera got the opening to “Nemesis” right at the team event, why not now? aaaaaand fuck. I respect this kid too much to talk about that program in more detail. I am so sorry, buddy. Hopefully Jackie will explain what happened with the invalid element, because I believe the normal procedure is to mark a failed combo as [jump]+COMBO and give points for that first jump. Score and Twittersphere suggest they put those points back in the end, which makes more sense.

Man, and the last person who needed to see that before he stepped onto the ice was Kolyada. I am just gutted for them both.

Clapping to Vivaldi is some weird-ass shit. He was so lovely, I am so proud of this boy. Mihoko looks so happy! New SB? Nope, less than a point shy of it.

JAVI, BABY, YOU WONDERFUL RAY OF SUNSHINE! I love this program. Juuuuuust short of a new SB again.

Boyang bringing it home! This was a new SB by a long shot. I just don’t have anything to say about these last programs because I was too busy holding my breath for each of them in turn.

I don’t know if I can bear to do this again with the FS. It will take a trip to the liquor store in preparation, at least.

[salt-is-a-terrible-currency]

Ok but, can we get some spicy Raymond with a f!reader that is timid and shy but secretly kinky? Like, she won't say what she wants at first but blindsides Ray when they are getting hot and heavy with wanting him to choke her. Then he realizes she likes it rough. Plz I am weak and imagining Rays hand on my neck is just hOO boi.

Thanks for the request, I hope you'll like this! :)

A Raymond Smith x f!reader drabble

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: mention of choking, foreplay, heavily implied smut

Tagging: @captainpoopweinersoldier @nessrove @flaireandsynch @autumnleaves1991-blog @innerpaperexpertcloud @darkravenqueen98 @t-r-i-s-h-a-w @waywardimpalawriter @samanthaisnthome @placeinthemiddleofnowhere @rayslittlekitten @dreamxcollide @misshoneybeee @kesskirata @green-socks @nosoul-noheart @brightlycoloredteacups @evyiione

“Thank you for dinner.” You say, timidly, as you set the cutlery aside. It feels like you've taken an eternity to eat and yet, according to the watch, it's only been 15 minutes. Ray flashes a smile from behind the glass of wine in his hand.

“You’re very welcome.” He clears the table in a few smooth motions then offers you a drink as he guides you to the living room. You’ve spent the night before, once, after your fourth date but after the fifth one you regrettably had an early morning and you suspected that if you’d stayed at Ray’s place getting up and leaving him behind would’ve been an impossible task. Tonight’s Friday and you have the weekend off. Ray knows that too, which is why he earlier today asked - casually - if you would like to stay after dinner. You accepted without thinking twice and then spent hours agonizing over what to wear. He’s every bit as gentlemanly about it as he was the first time. Ray plants his hands at your hips but allows you to close the distance between you as you sit beside each other on the couch. Kissing him seems so natural even though you've really not done it all that many times. He cups the back of your neck, slips his tongue past your lips, and sighs contentedly. It's even better than last time. Within seconds, you're intoxicated. Leaning further and further into it, it takes every last bit of willpower to pull away long enough to attempt to voice your desire.

“Ray.” It comes out like a whimper. He's so close, his breath hitting you in puffs.

“Tell me.” He orders, all confidence and authority in stark contrast to you. Christ. You wet your lips, once, twice.

"Want you to choke me." Your voice cracks halfway through. Ray's mouth falls open and though he's quick to close it again you notice. God, you hope he's not going to think you're a freak. Ray's eyes sweep up and down the length of you.

“You sure?” He asks. You nod before he's even finished the question. Ray exhales. Then he's shifting impossibly closer, reaching a hand out to run his knuckles down your cheek.

“Pretty girl,” he husks “not as timid as I thought.” You begin to lean into it but he rises to his feet, pulling you along with him in the direction of the bedroom.

“Tell me if you need me to stop."

[ssatoritendou]

Dinner for Three

Pairing: Chuuya/reader

Chuuya Nakahara

Word count: 1.4k

+ summary: After a day being tormented by Osamu Dazai all you want to do was spend time with the lovely Chuuya...but an enemy has other plans for both of you

Genre: fluff

Warning: mentions of weapons

“Osamu I don’t get why I have to wear a face mask?”

In a whiney tone, with a pout, the dangerous mafioso responded, “___ it’s a disguise. No one can tell who you are.”

“Osamu, putting me in a suit, a face mask, and a different hairstyle won’t fool anyone. Besides we are in headquarters. Everyone knows we work together.” You argued with him.

“Boo-hoo for trying to make our day fun. And make you look interesting.” He laughed with an evil smirk.

“Keep talking Dazai, you’ll end up in more bandages.” You mumbled.

You were going through the paperwork you had to finish filling out and filing.

“___ I’m bored.”

You sighed, “Osamu maybe if you did your paperwork on time, we could be out on a raid or literally anything else.”

“Why would I do it? When I have a pretty Belladonna doing it for me.”

You chuckled with a sinister smile under your mask but to Dazai it looks like you liked the compliment. “Actually I’m doing Nakahara a favor.”

He faked a pain in his heart and fell out of the chair. “How dare you do that dog a favor! You are supposed to be my associate, not his!”

“Osamu you do realize we all work together, you might be my mentor but I’m friends with everyone.”

“And to think I gave you...what did I give you again?”

“Hmm...” you thought “you gave a roll of bandages. I think you even said over drinks used them when you have horrible injuries. Then you poured Chuuya’s wine into his hat. We were asked to leave Lupin. If Odasaku was there controlling what you were drinking maybe we wouldn’t have been kicked out.”

“You just said Chuuya. You never call him Chuuya. Always Nakahara, Mr. Nakahara, and Executive Nakahara.”

“Did I? Careless mistake. You say it all the time must have picked it up.” You said with a shrug finishing the last paper for Chuuya.

Knowing full well you messed up. You weren’t supposed to call him that outside of the home. You were supposed to meet him tonight for dinner. But now the ever so clever mafioso idiot Dazai Osamu, was glaring at you.

“Do you have any idea what you want to do or what we should do? Besides play dress up. Heard anything from Ogai?”

He looked down at his desk filled with paperwork. “No, I guess I have to meet Akutagawa soon.”

“So I can go home?” You asked excitedly.

“Yeah yeah. Keep the phone on though.”

You left headquarters and went home. You plopped on your couch loosening your tie.

“Hey baby,… what are wearing?” He looked you up and down.

“Dazai wanted to play dress-up today. He said it was a “disguise”.” You told your boyfriend.

He growled at the mention of Dazai. “I’m sorry he tortured by that asshole.”

“Chuuya that is not a kind way to describe our friend.”

He rolled his eyes. “He is a suicidal maniac and a piece of shit. Do not call him my friend.” He growled.

“Ok, sweetie. I’m going to get ready for dinner.” You told him.

“You still want to go out even with the suspicious sociopath out there?”

“I just spent the entire day with a bored Dazai, he dressed me up as Mori does with Elise. I deserve a night out at my favorite restaurant with my big bad mafioso boyfriend is going to take me there.”

“He dressed you like the way Mori does with Elise?!” He yelled, taking that small comparison away from your statement.

“Dinner. Tonight Chuuya.”

“You were right. We are needed the night out.” Chuuya said sipping his wine.

“It pays to be in the mafia with multiple restaurants willing to close just for you.”

Chuuya hummed to that as you both raised your glasses clinking them.

You two were in a comfy corner in the party room restaurant, arched doors closed, large paints hanging off the walls, maroon carpeted floors, a private bar across from the door, and a table lit by candlelight. A fine red wine Chuuya picked for you two tonight. Him even pinning his hair tonight under his fedora.

You recently saw an old picture when he first entered the Port Mafia with short hair. You casually mentioned you liked how he looked in his teens. He nearly chopped off his beautiful long ginger hair with a pair of kitchen scissors. You threw a knife in his direction to stop him from doing so. You adore his long locks, loved calming him down with running your fingers through his hair. Or when he had a pretty stressful day brushing it for him and braiding it, that ultimately lead to him braid yours in return.

“So please tell me how was your day today My Love.” You asked him.

“Pretty boring had to go over shipments coming in from the north, that was early in the morning. Then there was the delivery process. I was able to go for a short bike ride briefly, nearly got mugged by a kid on the street. He looked like he was starving I didn’t blame him I’ve been there. So I gave him so cash and a card just in case he needs a family.”

“Ever so kind My God.”

“What did I tell you about calling me your god.” He brought down his hat to cover his face flush from the comment.

“It’s only true, Mr. Executive.” You said teasingly knowing that gets a rise out of him. You started to play footies with his legs under the pristine white table cloth.

“I would like to go to dinner once where we actually eat and not having me rush home because you can’t behave.” He growled at you grabbing your thigh possessively.

You giggled. “Sorry for teasing you.” You liked down at your wine glass twirling your finger around the edge. You noticed a strange reflection in the glass.

“Chuuya duck.” You said in a calm manner.

You both hit the deck just as a rain of fire of bullets was coming from the main dining room.

You flipped the table over as the both of you made your way to the bar.

“Can you use your ability?”

“I can’t see who is out there or how many. They are covered.”

“And we are pinned down.” You sighed.

So this is how you and Chuuya, the love of your life were going to die. Pinned down in your favorite restaurant being killed by Port Mafia enemies.

“What can you do with a blowtorch?” Chuuya asked pulling it up from under the shelf.

“Depends how much do you like that jacket?”

He smirked and started ripping the jacket up. Putting the ends in liquor bottles. You turned on the blowtorch, starring at the beautiful flame.

Chuuya was smirking happily watching you ready to burn down a building and give him an opening to kill these men that were trying to kill you.

He saw one of the bullets and saw an interesting logo on the side.

“…Mori Corp.” He said with an angry low tone. “Don’t, we can’t kill them.”

“What they are shooting at us?”

“They are blanks. Look at the shells.”

“Son of a bitch, Osamu Dazai!” You yelled across the restaurant. You stood up from behind the bar. “The next person who shoots, I will have your head and Chuuya will play with your decapitated head.”

Chuuya face went blank after you said that.

“Ok ok boys you heard the little lady. You can all go home.” Dazai said with an evil smirk.

You jumped over the bar into the main dining hall grabbing the bandage freak by the neck.

“What the hell Dazai! You tortured me all day and I wanted to relax with my boyfriend and you had to ruin it.” He was laughing, “Why the hell are you laughing your maniac?!”

“You said Chuuya is your boyfriend.”

“That is what this is about?!” Chuuya yelled at him from the side.

“Now, Now you two, you were keeping a secret from your best friend. You should have told me because you didn’t you got shot at.” He said with his dead stare.

“You are psycho.” You sighed holding your head in hand. You flipped the table back up pulling three chairs over. “Are you idiots coming to eat or not?”

[millenialfanfictionaddiction]

Please Me: Oikawa’s Oasis Pt 2

⚠️THIS FIC IS 18+, MINORS DNI⚠️

Welcome to week 4 of the Please Me Series!  A collaboration with @axoxtxhxh! This weeks theme is Virginity Loss featuring Oikawa and Goshiki!  This weeks fics are broken into 3 parts, check out Part 1 linked in the master list! Please check out Joey’s fic, Guiding Goshiki!  I will link it in the Please Me master list!  

Warnings: swearing, mentions of virginity, drinking, heated dancing, making out, angst

Word Count: 3,600

“Yoo-hoo YN-chan” a voice called for you as you smiled softly, knowing fully well the source of that voice.

“Good Morning Oikawa” you said as you turned to see the cheery-eyed setter running up to you before practice.

“Oh YN-chan, you flatter me so but please, I’ve told you before, call me Torū” he said as he watched you write down notes on your clipboard.

“Hmm oh did you say something Oikawa?” You said laughing a little at the deflated tool on his face.

“YN-chan why must you be so mean to me?” He whined as you chuckled at his complaints.

“Torū I’m only teasing you.  Lighten up” you say as you set your clipboard down, quickly grabbing the teams water bottles to fill up.  

You and Torū had gotten to know each other well the past few weeks. He often stayed late for individual practice, running in to you as you performed your managerial duties.  You often watched him practice or even helped when you could.  He returned the favor by helping you clean up the gym and prepare for the next practice.  It was a nice system and you had become fast friends.

Walking towards the door to the gym, a rogue volleyball came spiraling towards your head. Torū ran quickly to try to stop the ball, hoping his feet would move as fast as his brain.  Before he knew it, he heard a loud  

*SMACK*

He looked up just in time to see you smack the volleyball straight down to the ground, causing it to ricochet off the wall.  

Torū stood in silence as you continued to make your way to the doors to fill up the teams water bottles, acting like nothing happened.  

How did you do that he wonders to himself as he shakes his head returning to practice, making a mental note to question you tonight during your practice.  

Practice ended as you retreated to your office to file your notes and begin cleaning up.  You found yourself looking forward to your new nightly routine with the brow haired setter.  It had been a new and fun addiction to your mundane life.

Walking out of the office, the teams captain stopped you before you headed to the gym to work with Torū.

“Hey YN, you are still coming out with us tomorrow, right?  Should be a lot of fun?” He said smiling at you widely as you just rolled your eyes.

“That’s what you said last time and all I ended up doing was taking care of your drunk ass” you scuff as the captain laughs at you.

“yeah, but I heard Torū is coming” he said smirking at your as your face flushed pink.

“Oh, great so now I have more grown men to babysit” you said excusing yourself as you walked towards the gym.

“Whatever you say, YN-chan” he laughed as you whipped your head towards him, glaring daggers into the man’s skull.

As you approached the gym, you heard the all too familiar sounds of balls ricocheting off the floor.  One thing you admired deeply about Torū was his dedication to the sport of Volleyball.  You knew how much he loved it.  It was his passion.  Something you shared with the tall man.

“YN-chan!” Torū shouted as you set your bags down, heading to the gym floor to meet the setter “I was wondering if you could help me with my sets tonight?”

Confused, you nodded as he took his position by the net.  It’s not like you had never helped a setter before but what Torū had in mind was different.

Tossing the ball up to him, he set it with pinpoint accuracy, the ball falling perfectly in front of the net.

You watched in awe at his perfect form as he looked back at you, as if he was waiting for you to say something.  

“Was that too long?” He said as you turned your head slightly sideways, confused as to what he was asking.  

“It honestly looked perfect” you said, thinking he was just asking for feedback on his sets.

“Then why didn’t you spike?” He said as you figured stiffened “you are a spiker are you not?”

You looked at him shockingly.  How did he know you had been a spiker in high-school and college?

“I-umm, well I was a spiker yes, but that was years ago.  How did you know?” You said to him as he looks at you smiling “wait have you been stalking me?”

Torū laughs as he walks to retrieve the ball from the floor “actually that ball you hit earlier today that was headed towards your face, you have quite an arm YN.”

You blushed as you realized exactly what he was talking about.  You honestly hadn’t thought about hitting the ball earlier, it was just a habit. Volleyball was a dangerous sport for bystanders and you worked hard to remain vigilant of your surroundings.

“Well actually I did play in high-school and college a little” you said as you walk towards him “but that was years ago.  I’m way out of practice.”

“Not from the looks of the spike YN.  You have a lot of power” he gushed as a light blush formed on your face.  It had been years since someone had complimented your skills as a player.  

“So, what do you say YN, let me set for you” he said as you smiled, grabbing the ball and running to the back end of the court.

Taking your place, you tossed the ball to Torū as he sent a perfect set towards your running approach.  You leaped into the air as you felt the ball graze your palm, smacking hard onto the other side of the court.

You smiled as you saw Torū smirk at your successful kill.

“Nice Kill YN!” he said as you went back to the line, grabbing another ball from the basket, sending it up in a nearly identical toss.  

You nailed kill after kill with Torū as you continued to practice into to the night.  Finally, out of breath and balls, you hunched over trying to catch your breath as Torū approached you, handing you a bottle of water.  

“YN-chan, you must have been on hell of a spiker” he says as you drink from your water bottle “those kills were fantastic!”

“Honestly it was your sets Torū!  The skill you have is amazing!  I can see why you are the starting setter” you say as Torū smiles at your compliments.  Compliments weren’t new for Torū.  He had been known as The Great King through his high school career and was praised for his ability to adapt so quickly to various spikers.  However, for some reason, you compliment struck a cord with him, making his heart beat face quickly.  

You and Torū wrapped up practice as you cleaned up the balls, put away the nets and mopped the floors. Torū waited for you by the gym entrance as you locked the doors and headed home.

“Are you going out with the team tomorrow YN-chan?” Torū probed, hoping your response would be yes.

“Probably” you sighed “someone’s got to keep tabs on those idiots.”  

Torū chuckled as he walked you back your place.  He watches you intently as you turned heading to your place.  You waved as he began to walk back to his place.  

He sighed softly, thinking about your time practicing with him.  Suddenly, two arms grabbed around him as he felt a strong hug embrace him from behind.

“Thank you Torū!  I had so much fun practicing tonight” you say as you embraced the tall setter from behind.  Torū smiled as he grabbed your hands in front, holding them tightly.

Letting go, you run back to your home, waving frantically as the Torū looked on with a soft smile.  He was definitely falling for the team manager.

Torū paced back and forth in his room.  Why was he so nervous?  He was never this nervous.  It wasn’t like you were going on a date.  It was just a fun night out with the team. Nothing more.  

He grabbed his phone, dialing the only person he thought might help ease his nerves.

“Oi shittykawa, what is it?  I’m busy studying for an anatomy test!” his best friend, Iwaizumi Hajime says as Torū gasps at his friend’s bluntness.

“Iwa-chan!  Can’t I just call to say I miss you?”  

Iwaizumi glared thought the screen at Oikawa as he tried his hardest not to lose his cool.

“Alight I’m hanging up…”

“No wait Iwa!  I- I need some advice” Toru said as he tried not to show his nervousness.  

“Alight crappykawa out with it, I don’t have all night!” Iwaizumi said as Torū gulped.

“Well- umm I was wondering, you see there is this woman…” Toru said rubbing the back of his head.

Iwaizumi dropped his pencil as he looked to Oikawa in shock.

“The Great Torū Oikawa is asking me for advice of women” he said smugly as he tried to keep from laughing.

“IWA-CHAN PLEASE” Oikawa whined as Iwaizumi laughed at his friend.

“Let me guess, the team manager?” Iwaizumi said as Toru looked at him stunned.

“How did you-“

“Oikawa I looked the team up online and damn, she’s hot. I’m not surprised you are attracted to her” he says as Torū looks at him “just tune on your Oikawa charm like you always do.  It’s always helped you in the past-”

“This one is different Iwa.  Something about her is special. She doesn’t berate me or tease me. She genuinely nice and sweet.  She- she makes me feel something different” he says as Iwaizumi looks at him intently

“Boy this one really has you, doesn’t she?  Damn I never thought I’d see the day.  Just tell her how you feel.  Maybe she feels the same way?”  

“It’s not the simple Iwa-chan!  You know-”

“Jesus shittykawa stop being embarrassed about being a virgin!” Iwaizumi shouts at Torū shushes him loudly.

Knowing Torū like Iwaizumi did was both a privilege and a curse.  He knew how popular Toru was with the girls in high school but he also knew Torū only dedication was to his team and volleyball.  Volleyball was his life and while he had many girlfriends, none of them ever seemed to compare to volleyball.  

“Iwa, do you know how embarrassing it is to be a virgin at 22?” He said as he watched Iwaizumi shake his head  

“Dude you act like you are the only virgin in the entire world?  Just take it slow. Feel out the situation. Talk with her.  It’s not hard” Iwaizumi said he Oikawa nodded slowly as Iwaizumi shook his head  

“I’ve got to go, good luck Loverkawa” Iwaizumi smirked as he went to hang up the call with Torū.

Toru just smiled as the call ended with his longtime best friend.  Iwa-chan was right!  He would just take it slow.

The club was loud as Torū approached his team members, half of which were already two sheets to the wind.  He laughed as many of them awkwardly danced their way around the club, finding anyone possible to dance with.

He looked up, seeing you standing by the bar, clinking shot glasses with the captain of the team.  He wandered over to you as you gulped down your shot, setting your glass on the counter.

“TORŪ” you shout as you run over and embrace the setter.  Oikawa laughs as he grabs onto your waist as you hug him tightly. He can smell the alcohol on you as you back away, placing your hand on his strong chest!  

“Take a shot with me” you scream as the captain shakes his head, watching you pull a flustered Torū to the bar.

“Hey captain” Torū said as the captain nodded, tipping his drink toward the setter “how long had she been like this?”

“Well, she hit the shots pretty hard.  I must say usually YN doesn’t drink like this” he said as Toru watched you lean over the bar to whisper your drink order to the bartender.

You returned shortly with 2 glasses of tequila, handing out to Torū as you clinked glasses, shooting the shot down your already numb throat.  

Torū was much for drinking. He never really had been. He enjoyed the occasional night out but alcohol usually eased with his performance of the court to much.  

“ANOTHER ONE” you shout as Torū laughs at your retreating form, admiring how good you looked in your outfit.  The outfit accentuated your curves perfectly as you ran away to the bar for yet another round of shots.

“She is going to pay for that tomorrow” the captain laughed as Torū nodded in agreement “Well I’m going to go scope out the action.  You coming?”  

Torū couldn’t take his eyes off your form, not even for a second to hear his captains’ words.

“Never mind” the captain smirked as he walked away, leaving Torū to stare at you uninterrupted.

“Torū here” you shout as you hand him another drink, grabbing onto his arm as you gulped down yet another shot of some mystery liquor.

Taking the shot, Torū could feel the shot start to have a affect on him as he began to feel lightheaded and giddy.

“Dance with me Torū” you say pulling him into the busy crowd to an empty space in the middle of the dance floor.

You weren’t really much of a dancer sober but when you drank, your body flowed effortlessly.  You weren’t sure you looked sexy or that you even had good moves but you didn’t care.  You were enjoying yourself to the fullest.  

Torū laughed as he watched you dance, trying to get himself to match your erratic rhythm.  You backed your ass into him, grinding lightly as he grabbed your hips and swayed to the music.

You could feel his grip tighten as you ground harder into his crotch, feeling yourself heat up from the encounter.  Your body straightened up into him as you wrapped your hands around the back of his head as his buried his face into your neck.

Torū could feel the friction between you growing, his lust starting to form as you ground into his pelvis.  He tried his hardest to remain composed as you continued sway your body. His hands gripping tighter with each passing minute.

Feeling bold, you turn around, grabbing onto Torū’s neck as you flattened your body against his. You could feel the erection forming in his pants and you placed your forehead on his.

You were both drunk and feeling good.  The friction caused by the dancing heating your body up quickly as you ground your pelvis harder into his.  You moaned lightly as his head sunk into your neck, placing light soft kisses on your heated body.

Groaning, Torū pulled you closer as he continued to assault your neck, trying hard to maintain his composure. He was feeling so incredibly hot and turned on from watching you move against him. He could barely contain himself.

He pulled away as you looked at him, his eyes locking with yours as you leaned forward, placing a soft kiss upon his lips.  After testing the waters, you pulled away and looked at a completely blissed out Torū.  Hid eyes stating directly into yours as he pulled you in again, this time hastily capturing your lips in a deep kiss.

You kicked his lower lip, asking for entrance into his mouth as you met his wet muscle, battling him for dominance.  Letting you take the lead, Torū groaned as he gripped your hips tightly, trying hard to maintain the little bit of composure he had left.

Pulling away, you both stare at each other, waiting for some sort of reaction.  Looking at him, you open your mouth to speak when Torū beats you too it.

“Let’s go YN” he says as he pulls you towards the entrance, signaling to the team that you two were leaving.  You grabbed a cab as you continued to kiss and make out until you reached Torū’s place.  

Grabbing your hand, he pulled you swiftly, trying to quickly to unlock his apartment.   He threw the door open as he grabbed you, kissing you deeply as he closed the door, pressing you against it.  

Torū was an amazing kisser. His lips were soft and supple, and his tongue was a work of art, moving softly over yours, massaging it gently as you moaned loudly into his mouth.  

You reached for his shirt as you untucked it, pulling it over his head, revealing his hardened abs and chest.

You kissed his chin and neck, sucking soft marks into his pretty neck.  You pushed him towards the couch as he groans, falling onto the coach in one swift motion.  

Torū was feeling amazing. His body was acting on its own, holding you and grinding into you as he tried his hardest to pull a moan from you.

“ahh YN-” he groaned deeply as you hit the sweet spot just below his ears.  He couldn’t believe this was actually happening.  He was going to finally lose his virginity.

“mmhmmm” you say moaning and sucking on the spot as you tried hard to keep from ripping your clothes off and bouncing wildly on his cock.

“I- I need to tell you something” he said groaning as you continued to work your way to his chiseled collarbone and shoulders.

“What is it Torū” you say in-between marking him with your lips, trying your hardest to pull out more of those delicious moans.

“I- I’ve never gone this far before” he says as you suddenly stop, pulling your body up, looking down at him as he watched you intently.

“Wait what” you said sharply as Torū sat up slightly on his elbows.

“I’m a virgin YN” he said as your eyes widened in shock.  A virgin?  This gorgeous man was a virgin!  How? Why?  Your eyes remained widened as you tried hard to comprehend what was going on.  You had never taken anyone’s virginity nor had you ever thought about it.  It made you feel nervous just thinking about it.

Torū stared at you.  He honestly hadn’t expected you to react like this. He didn’t really think it was a huge deal but maybe it was.  His mind began to cloud with self doubt, a thought foreign to one of the best setters.

“YN, I umm- I really want you to be first” he said as he looked up to you waiting for your reaction.

Unfortunately instead of being met with assurance, he was met with a look of self doubt and confusion.  He wasn’t sure what you were feeling as you remained silent, sitting on top of him.

You had grown fond of Torū the past few months.  You enjoyed your time with him and formed a connection that you didn’t have with any other member of the team.  You knew your feeling for Torū ran deeper than just a manager and a player but in this moment, the feeling of uncertainty came rushing in causing you to rethink everything.

You looked at Torū as he waited for your response.  The look on his face was one of nervousness.  This was a huge thing something that wasn’t to be taken lightly in your opinion.

You thought back to when you lost your own virginity. How you had wished the situation and person would have been different. How you felt like you needed to lose it in order to fit in.  Obviously looking back, you knew that your reasons were flawed.  That you wished you would have just waited.  You didn’t want the sake thing for Torū.

“Torū, I-” you stutter as you look at the gorgeous man below you.  You had feelings for Torū.  You cared for him and respected him more than just a teammate and player.

“YN, I only want you” he says as he pushes your hair behind your ears and you stare down at his state.  He looked so innocent, so sweet.  You couldn’t help but be turned on by how amazing he looked.  Unfortunately, the fact remained that you were nervous. Nervous to ruin his first time and make him live with the memories you had of your first time.

You could feel his erection under your ass as he waited for your response.  He was so painfully hard and you knew it.  But still, the doubts and nerves filled you as you tried hard to drown them out.

“I’m sorry Torū” you said getting off him as he watched in confusion as you grabbed your shoes and bag, heading for the front door.

“YN, wait-”he shouted as he grabbed his shirt, pulling it on quickly as he raced towards the door, trying to stop you.  He grabbed your arm, swinging you around he looked into your eyes, hurt and confused.

“I don’t understand YN-” he said as he watched youtrying to figure out what he had done wrong.  Had the fact that he was a virgin really bothered you that much?  

“I have to leave Torū” you said pulling your arm from his grasp as you ran down the hallway, towards the stairwell, throwing the door open as you quickly ran down the stairs, barefoot to the street below, leaving a deflated and crushed Torū in your wake.

taglist: @chaotic-nick @serostapesweat @lovelyzabrak-meadow @yep-seeyalaterbranflakes

[deluweil]

So this is a way Way overdue prompt that I got ages ago, but didn't have the time or muse-cooperation to write.

But I finally managed to write it!!

The prompt was given to me by the lovely @coffeeflavoredcookies : Chris all snuggled up to Buck as he tells him bedtime stories with Eddie standing at the door looking at them fondly.

This is fluff all the way, hope you like it ❣

-

The house was dimly lit when he got back, at this point Christopher would have usually already been in bed - post bedtime story.

But Buck has been staying the last few days with them after getting hurt on a call. Nothing too bad, mild concussion, some bruised ribs and a now relocated shoulder still stuck in a sling, so things aren't exactly on the normal side.

Buck had trouble understanding Eddie’s insistence that he stays with them, not wanting to be a burden (earning him an eye-roll from Eddie) and reminded him that he shouldn’t have to look after a grown-ass man while having an actual child of his own to take care of, (which resulted in Eddie calling Christopher and asking him, on speaker, what he thought of Buck staying with them for the next few days. Christopher cheered and Buck glared at Eddie, mouthing ‘traitor’ at him.)

The thing is, Buck seems to be unable to understand that whenever he’s hurt, physically or emotionally or just generally off-balance, Eddie is thrown to a loop right with him. Eddie would rather have him near and safe than wonder how he is, if he’s sleeping, eating - taking care of himself.

Back when his leg was crushed, so close to losing Shannon, Eddie was very close to saying to hell with Ali and then Maddie and just take him over to their place.

But Buck wasn't his to keep back then, and to be honest he's not his now, but Ali is long gone and Maddie is super pregnant, giving Eddie the best excuse to bundle him into his truck and take him home.

Sore and tired, Buck mostly slept, crashing on the couch, no matter how many times Eddie tried to get him to crash in the master bedroom, at least during the day.

Eddie got used to returning home from work to find Christopher sitting in the living room either doing his homework or playing or watching TV while Buck slept on the couch. Sometimes Christopher could be found nestled to Buck's side as they both nodded off watching some nature documentary.

Eddie has an album in his phone containing multiple pictures of his boys together. He will never get tired of snapping pictures of them, moments frozen in time, forever.

Eddie took his shoes off at the door and dropped his bag next to them. He showered at the station so he wouldn't waste time with Christopher in favor of washing the day off, he quickly rinsed his hands with soup, a habit left from crazed Covid days, then went in search of his boys.

The house was quiet, and the normally occupied couch was empty. Eddie made his way to Christopher’s room, already recognizing Buck’s low gravel voice, reading what sounded like “I Had Trouble in Getting to Solla Sollew”, Buck got Christopher the book a couple of weeks prior to his injury.

He told Christopher that Maddie used to read it to him when he was younger. They read it so many times, that both of them knew it by heart at one point. This is the first time he got to read it to him, if Eddie is not mistaken.

Eddie quietly made his way to the bedroom and stopped to lean on the door frame, taking in the sight in front of him. Christopher was lying in bed snuggled up against Buck’s uninjured side, he was already fast asleep, but Buck kept reading quietly leaning against the headboard.

“Then I dreamed I was sleeping on billowy billows

Of soft silk and satin marshmallow-stuffed pillows.

I dreamed I was sleeping in Solla Sollew,

On the banks of the beautiful River Wah-Hoo,

Where they never have troubles. At least very few.”

Eddie was so caught up in the cute picture presented before him, that he hadn't noticed Buck’s stopped reading and turned welcoming eyes on him, “Hey Eds.” he greeted with a soft smile.

“Hey Buck.” Eddie greeted back with a smile, slowly making his way inside, gently detangling Christopher from Buck to lay him properly on the pillow, and freeing Buck to rise and stretch carefully.

The blonde nodded gratefully at his friend, with a last look down at Christopher, he smiled and left Eddie to tuck Christopher in safely and say goodnight. Eddie’s eyes followed Buck as he left the room, making sure he’s steady on his feet and also because he couldn’t really look away.

When Buck was out and on his way to the living room Eddie turned around, pressed a kiss to Christopher’s forehead, turned on the nightlight and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Eddie noted Buck’s absence in the living room and followed the sounds to the kitchen, standing at the door, he inquired “Should you be without your sling?”

"Honestly, no." Buck admitted with a sheepish smile, "But my neck is killing me and doing everything one handed is driving me crazy." He complained, handing Eddie a beer and leaned back against the counter while drinking the Gatorade he started earlier.

“At least you’re not drinking beer.” Eddie rolled his eyes. Buck scoffed “I wanted to, Christopher said no.” he smiled at Eddie’s laugh.

“Sounds about right.” Eddie nodded. “Did Carla make dinner?”

Buck shook his head, “No, she had to leave early, I told her I got this.”

“Tell me you ordered dinner.” Eddie demanded.

“There are waffles and Eggs in the microwave for you.” Was Buck’s sole reply.

“You’re supposed to be resting.” Eddie protested with an exasperated look.

“I have been resting, Edmundo!” Buck rolled his eyes, “And I’ll go back to resting now that your kid is fed, ready for his day tomorrow and has fallen asleep in his own bed for a change.” Buck retorted and was about to move past Eddie when the latter grabbed the wrist of his good arm and turned him around, bringing him flush against Eddie’s body.

Faces a hairbreadth away from each other, Buck met Eddie’s eyes with a curious look, “You gonna teach me to dance Eds?”

“I thought you already knew how to dance, Ev.” Eddie replied with a soft smirk, voice barely beyond a murmur.

“Hmm.. So wha..” Buck didn’t finish the rest of the sentence because Eddie’s lips were on his, and the finally in his head was so loud, it took him a second to sigh contentedly and kiss back.

Eddie’s hands strayed to Buck’s waist bringing him even closer as he maneuvered them carefully out of the kitchen and into the living room, stopping when the back of his knees hit the couch, his palms framing Buck’s face with one last kiss before breaking apart, chuckling at Buck’s protesting whine.

“What was that for?” Buck asked as Eddie rearranged the pillows on the couch before situating himself with his back to one side and reached to gently pull Buck down so he could lie back on Eddie’s broad chest, framed between his stretched forward legs.

Buck went pretty easily, not even questioning Eddie’s tactile display, it’s been known to happen, it just didn’t usually start with a kiss. Buck turned his head to one side looking up to meet Eddie’s eyes, Eddie’s brown eyes were soft and fond, Buck couldn’t help but smile back at him when Eddie offered him a grin.

Before Buck could open his mouth and ask again what’s going on, Eddie wrapped a long arm across Buck’s broad chest and threaded the fingers of his other hand with Buck’s, resting them on Buck’s stomach. “I’m done overlooking the pink elephant in the room.”

“Is that a veiled reference of your dislike for that shirt?” Buck quipped, squeezing Eddie’s hand reassuringly.

“That too.” Eddie played along, he really did hate that shirt, but Buck kept insisting it defined his muscles, which it did, but literally most of his size-down shirts already did that. “But also because coming home to the sight of you and Christopher every night, was pretty much wearing me down.”

Buck’s face broke into a smile that was a complicated mix of self-consciousness and contentedness, which Eddie found adorable, “So what broke you tonight?” Buck asked, bringing Eddie out of his reverie “I mean, it was a pretty standard evening in the Diaz household.” He pointed out with a teasing smile.

“You made sure Christopher fell asleep in his own bed.” Eddie said, chin resting on the top of Buck’s head gently.

“Well, It felt like some normalcy was needed.” Buck replied, his voice soft. “Both of us injured and out of commission in the short span of five months seemed to be taking a toll.”

“And the fact that you’re the one who managed to find a way to stir him back into the right direction is what broke me, I guess.” Eddie admired quietly, “That, and the cute picture you two presented when I got into the room.” He smiled, pressing a kiss to Buck’s temple who was blushing endearingly.

The moment was broken by an exhausted yawn from Buck, “Sorry, been a long day, and you’re too comfortable.” he accused jokingly.

“Bed?” Eddie suggested.

“You sure?” Buck asked, it’s not like they haven’t shared a bed before but this was semi-new territory. “I've already bonded with the couch, I’m good sleeping out here until we figure this out.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, “Bed.” he determined with a growl.

Buck chuckled amusedly as he rose carefully to his feet along with Eddie, “Caveman.” he teased.

Eddie shook his head with a laugh, “brat.” he retorted, pecking Buck’s lips before taking his hand and leading him to the master-bedroom.

***

That's it :) I hope you like it!! 💖💖

ps. That book Buck is reading to Christopher is a story my dad used to read to me and my sisters when we were youngers, we all know it by heart, to this very day. 🤗💕

[shannygoatgruff]

Only Fan(s) - A Thriller

Genre: Thriller

Pairing: Modern Ivar/OC

Warning: Language, sex, stalking, obsession, kidnapping, sexual assault

Rating: MA+18

Summary: Sometimes OnlyFans subscribers want a little more than internet pictures. Sometimes they want to be your ONLY fan…

Header by: @flowers-in-your-hayr

Thanks to @xbellaxcarolinax for being my beta.

Disclaimer: This story will deal with some topics that might be a little uncomfortable for some people. As always, I’ll try to tackle the hard stuff as tactfully as possible.

a/n: I know it’s been a minute. I’m always thinking about these stories because I want to finish them, just can’t seem to focus on writing at the moment.  Anyway, hope you enjoy.

Part iv - Date with Destiny

Finding Ivar Lothbrok should have been easy. Between the two of them, he was the stable one. He was the one with the iron-clad schedule that consisted of drinking, smoking, and partying. Torren’s schedule was a bit more... fluid. She tended to go wherever the wind, or whatever car she acquired, would take her. Naturally, Ivar had the occasional meet-and-greet, red carpet, and/or Comic-con engagement that he had to attend, still, he was pretty easy to keep tabs on. All one had to do was look at (stalk) his social media accounts, and his whereabouts were posted for everyone to see.

Knowing where he’d be and finding out where he lived were a different story. Torren had done her due diligence when it came to locating the town in which Little Kattegat was located. It only took about two days and a few Google image searches of the background of a few of the photos and she had it narrowed down to a general area in the Sierra Nevada Mountains.

From what she could tell, the closest town to where he lived was pretty small, and there were only a few large estates hidden in the woods. How hard could it be to find? She was willing to drive to every single house and knock on the door to find him if she had to. But it would just be easier if there was loud music and a bunch of cars in the driveway. That way she could tag along inside with the rest of the guests to get to her man. 

Her shirt landed in the pile of dirty clothes in the center of the bed, as she reached around to unhook her bra. “I really need to tell Baby Boo to stop putting all of his business out in these streets,” her brows furrowed as she shook her head, “What if some crazy, psycho bitch started stalking him, or some shit? Then I’d have to kill a bitch.” Torren’s head whipped around and she narrowed her eyes at his picture, still stuck on her wall, “Is that what you want? Huh? You want me to cut a bitch to prove to you how much I love you? I will, Bae! You know I would do anything for you. I’m your Ride or Die...” 

And being his Ride or Die meant that she needed to keep better tabs on him if she was going to protect him from someone crazier than her, God forbid.  She was only able to do so much on this prepaid phone, and going to the library to get online was becoming a pain in the ass. 

She’d considered stealing a laptop or iPad from the library but was still on the fence about the idea. Of course, the alternative meant going to stupid ass libraries and threatening little kids to get off the fucking computers, and that completely sucked ass. 

She always felt rushed when she logged onto her Bae’s Only Fans page from the public library. Without fail one of those little bastard kids would get the library Nazis to kick her off the computer, or bar her from the library altogether for watching porn. 

Ivar’s page wasn’t porn! It was art. It was sexy. It was love...his love for her. Stupid bitches. 

She had encountered far worse things than getting kicked out of the library, but some of these small towns usually only had one or two within their county limits. If she got banned, how was she supposed to check up on Ivar? In the time it took to log in until she got kicked out, she'd be lucky if she could check 2 of his accounts. What if he had some important information on another platform that she hadn’t checked yet? What was she supposed to do then?

Her relationship with Ivar was hanging in the balance, and she'd be damned if some snot-nosed kid or fucking uptight librarian would fuck that up. She needed a computer. But, on the flip side, when she finally got her man back, she wouldn't need one anymore. She could ask him directly what their plans were.

There was a lot to consider and that took time; time that she didn't have right now.

The thick layer of Nair shaving cream she had applied to her already hairless crotch, was just starting to tingle, signaling she had about 5 minutes left before the sweat-inducing, burning sensation would kick in alerting her to wash the cream off. Until then, she had time to consider an outfit for the night.

She knew Ivar well enough to know that he would want her to be sexy for him, but not so much to distract him from work. She could have gone for something slutty, like those skanky bitches he partied with. She could have gone for more demur, but then she would remind him too much of his bitch ex-wife and completely turn him off. The last thing she wanted on their first night back together was for him to be thinking about that bitch. She could have gone for a simple pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but Torren never did simple. 

No, Ivar would want her to be herself. That's what he loved about her. That's what attracted him to her in the first place. She would be sexy without being skanky; she would be demure without being a prude.

Fuck! It was already 7:33 p.m. How in the hell did she miss the beginning of his Live? Now she was running late.

She was supposed to be dressed and ready by the time his Live came on that way she could be out the door as soon as he finished. If she was going to make it to be on his Only Fans live stream tonight, she needed to get to his house before he got too distracted. Now, she’d have to watch his Live, while her cooch burst into flames before she had a chance to take a shower and finish picking out her outfit.

If there was one thing Torren was, it was punctual. It was bad enough that she was about 40 minutes outside of his town, but it could take her up to 2 or more hours to find his house. She only hoped that he didn’t plan on starting any real freaky shit on his Only Fans page until around midnight, cause it looked like she wouldn’t be getting there before then, anyway.  

With the smile still plastered on her face, Torren turned on the hot water for a shower, forgetting that the water didn’t get hot. She didn't mind, much, especially since the cold water gave her a break from the heat in her room. 

Phone in hand, she watched him, as she planted herself on the dirty bathtub floor, cross-legged, and started to get herself ready. Starting with her toes, she shaved each one, just below the knuckle, followed by her fingers, arms, pits, and each leg, from groin to ankle, three times. When the burning from her nether regions was so intense that she couldn’t tell her tears from the shower water dripping on her face, she quickly washed off the cream. 

All she could do was hope that she hadn’t broken the skin this time. The last time she had let that damn Nair stay on, just past burning, the skin broke and she bled. She was not having a bloody hoo-ha tonight. 

With that taken care of, she gently used the razor to remove any other pubes closer to the inside that needed to be removed. Then shaved her backside. When she had more time, she was going to get the internal hairs bleached, but she needed to find out what Ivar preferred. 

Shaving ate up so much of her time that she only had a few seconds to rub some body-wash that she had stolen from a drug store over her body and hoped it got rid of the smell of the summer heat. Her hair? Fuck it...she’d wash it another day, for now, this cold water would have to be enough. She’d spritz some perfume and hair spray in it and it would smell fine. 

Torren finished her shower, and walked out of the bathroom dripping wet, only using a towel to wrap around her hair. She was glad it was so hot in her room that her hair would air-dry quickly. She finger-combed her damp tresses to complete that ‘just got out of bed, but it's styled’ appearance. She knew how much he loved when her hair looked like that. It would remind him of freshly fucked hair. 

She spent extra time applying her makeup, even using an extra dark, thick application of eyeliner. She usually went for more subtle warm colors. They matched her tan skin tone better. But, tonight, she had bold, dark makeup, complete with varying shades of purple and blue eye shadows, and dark purple lipstick.

Torren was glad that she decided to match Ivar’s clothes this evening. The swim trunks and smoking jacket he wore would compliment her beautifully. She wanted everyone to know that they dressed alike, the way real couples do. If he was going for less is more, so would she.

She settled on black leather chaps that tied up on the sides, and tight blue boy shorts that left the bottom half of her ass cheeks exposed. The blue shorts brought out the blue swirls in his trunks; she knew he'd appreciate that touch. Her top was a blue bandanna that she wore as a halter with a short black leather jacket with tassels on the sleeves. 

They screamed “couple” in her eyes.

Completely satisfied with how she looked, Torren locked the door to her motel room and started down the hall. She deliberately stopped by the window and peered through the partially opened blinds of the people staying next door to her. She knocked on the window to get the attention of the young couple inside. Judging from their appearance, they were too strung out to know who she was, or that it was her music that they constantly banged on the wall about. She didn’t care. She still flipped them off before making her way to the stairs. 

Reaching her hand through the busted window of the blue Ford Taurus to unlock the door from the inside. Torren slid into the driver's seat and leaned over to find the two cords that she had pulled out from under the steering column when she stole the car. Flicking the cords together, she listened as the engine reluctantly turned over.

She put the car in reverse, looked in the rear-view mirror at her makeup, then pulled out of the spot. As she turned onto the road leading to the highway, she listened to the knocks, bumps, and hisses that her car made. There wasn't time to do much about it now; not when she was on her way to get her man. But, she made a mental note to do something about it later in the week. The only thing she could do was turn the music up louder to drown out the car noise.

Truthfully, she should have stolen a better car than the piece of shit Taurus that she found in the parking lot of the Quickie Mart while driving through Tulsa, Oklahoma. There were plenty of better cars there to choose from but no one would have wanted to take this one. It was so sad looking that she took pity on it. She had been doing the owner of this crap car a favor, by taking it off of their hands. 

The car was truly fucked. The oil light stayed on, and it drank gas like her mother drank liquor. The car had protested every inch of the ride across the three states that she traveled through in one day. She knew that it would only be a matter of time before that piece of shit breathed its last breath.

She needed to get gas again, but fuck that car. She had already refueled four times since she stole it. Gas wasn't cheap and she wasn't putting another dime in that gas guzzler. Speaking of money, she made a mental note to steal another credit card. It would only be a matter of time before the owner of the one that was tucked snugly between her left breast and strapless bra, would eventually realize that it had been lifted from the table in the diner, and canceled.

Laptop, butt bleaching, car, credit card, and more eyeliner from Walgreen's…her To-Do list was growing. She really needed to take some time off and take care of the necessities. Not tonight, though. She had other things to do. She couldn't do anything else, right now, but get to her man. Besides, once Lothbrok was by her side, he would help her remember all the things she needed to do.

As she came off of the highway exit smoke started billowing out from the engine. It backed up through the exhaust system, and came through the vents, inside the cabin. It was ironic – the air-conditioning vents in the car didn't work, but they seemed to work well enough to clog the inside of the car up with thick white smoke. She drove a few more miles before the smoke was so thick that she could no longer see. As she pulled the car over to the graveled shoulder of the road, the car knocked and shook, before it finally cut off.

Just her fucking luck.

She reached under the dash to flick the cords against each other again, trying to force the ignition to catch again, but it wouldn't. The engine had nothing left to give her. "Fuck Murphy and fuck his fucking law," she said calmly as she pulled the hood release.

She opened the car door, taking care to place both black, platform boots on the ground before lifting her backside from the seat. Placing her sunglasses on her eyes, she walked with one foot in front of the other to the front of the Taurus and placed her hand on the hood. It was hot, but not so hot that she couldn't feel under the front of the lever.

As she lifted the heavy metal hood and placed the rod in the slot to hold it in place, Torren let the smoke from the engine engulf her. It was quite a head rush breathing in the thick engine smoke through her nose, and exhaling it from her mouth. She patiently waited for the smoke to thin out before she bent, at the waist, over the engine. She didn't know what she was looking for, but she knew that someone would see her looking over the engine and stop to help her.

Now, if only someone would actually come down this dark stretch of road, she could be back on her way to Ivar.

It didn't take long before a pair of headlights rounded the bend of the road, just off to her right. Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, she accentuated the leather, chaps against her hips, and lifted her ass higher in the air, to catch the driver's attention. She couldn't help but smirk when she heard the tires of a large vehicle turn onto the graveled pavement in front of where she broke down. She didn't turn to face the car or the driver. She didn't care who they were or what they looked like. She had an appointment to keep and this pit stop was fucking up her timetable.

"You need some help?" A deep voice asked as its owner approached her.

Torren took a moment to peer around the hood, noticing that there were no other cars around. "Broke down," she answered, continuing to bear her weight from one hip to the other. She placed her hands on the metal frame of the car, arched her back, and looked at the man over her shoulder. "You know something about cars?"

"Yeah," he replied, moving around to her side, looking at her, and not the smoky engine.

She gave him half a smile, as she noticed him notice her. "You a mechanic or something?" She asked standing up. She rubbed her hands together to remove some of the visible engine soot while considering the guy in front of her. He was about 6 feet tall with a moderate build. He was dressed in blue jeans, a black t-shirt, and Timberland boots. He didn't look like he was more than 25 years old. Judging from the way he was looking at her and from the ring on his left hand, he wasn't too worried about her car, or his wife, for that matter.

"Nah, not a mechanic, but I work on my own car... in my spare time." He smiled when she did. She was gorgeous, in that slutty kind of way. She wouldn't be dressed like that and leaning over the hood of a car if she wasn't looking to have some fun. "Lemme take a look at it."

Did he work on his car? Hopefully, that meant that his ran better than hers did.

Torren moved over to the side and let him take the position under the hood. "I'll be right back," he explained before walking over to the bed of his F150.

Grabbing a flashlight from the trunk, he took a second to admire the view of her, from behind. If he could get her car moving again, she would hopefully follow him to this cheap motel he knew that was just up the highway.

He leaned in close, taking a whiff of her hair, "You overheated…want to check the coolant level."

She had heard him say something else but she had stopped listening; she was too busy watching the street. "You want me to try to start it?" she asked, removing her sunglasses before making her way to the driver's door. She wasn't sure if he answered or not. She had no intention of driving the Taurus again, even if he could get it started. She just needed to get something out of the car.

She slid into the seat and reached down on the floor. She found the hard metal object on the floor of the passenger's side and gripped it tightly. As she walked back around to the front of the car, she heard him talking, presumably about the car, or maybe he was asking her out. Who the fuck knows? She was on a tight schedule and all of his chatting was holding her up. She stood by the side of the hood, looking at the angle he was leaning over the hood. Quickly, she lifted her arm, and with one powerful blow, she struck him in the head with the crowbar that she used to procure her now-defunct car.

Torren stood over his body, looking at him intensely. God, it felt good. The rush of knowing that one minute this dude was towering over her, and the next he was on the ground. She had dropped his ass. She was the one with the power.

 "Thanks," she said, digging her hand in his pocket to retrieve his cash, credit card, and the keys to his truck. She wiped the blood on the crowbar on his shirt before walking to her new mode of transportation.

Torren sat in the truck's driver's seat and turned on the engine. She had managed to cross two things off of her To-Do list without even planning to.

Thank God the truck had air conditioning. All this heat and humidity was bound to make her hair frizzy. She cranked the AC up as high as it would go and sat still for a moment enjoying the cool air. After a minute, she adjusted the seat and tilted the rearview mirror to look at herself. She was starting to sweat and her eyeliner was starting to run just a bit at the corners of her eyes. She dabbed at the black liner to even out the lines, and then pushed the mirror back to where she could see. Giving the area another once-over, she made sure that no one else had seen her interaction with that guy on the ground, before pulling out from the gravel and onto the paved street.

"Ugh!" Torren yelled. Chester Bradley, the printed name on the credit card, had shitty taste in music. She pushed the stereo button on the steering wheel to do a scan of the radio. Anything was better than country music. Once she found some trap music on the XM radio, she turned up the volume and pulled back onto the highway.

Part iii/

Tags: @ideagarden-blog1  @youbloodymadgenius @xbellaxcarolinax @a-mess-of-fandoms @didiintheblog @conaionaru @peachyboneless @flowers-in-your-hayr @heavenly1927 @zuxiezendler @waiting4inspiration @saldelys @revolution-starter​

[cullxtheherd]

Dammit, I'm too soft and need my comfort boys now! 😭

Can I get “No one’s kissed me like that in a long time.” for Sharky, my dear pyromaniac boy? ❤

hell yeah you friggin can!!! thank, thank, thank you for sending me this ask!! i haven't proofread SHIT!! i took my medicaiton and i need a nap!!! asakdjskdsk this is uh? what most would call NSFW, enjoy!

“Woah, woah Chica-” Charlemagne grips the condensation laden bottle by its end and its past peeling sticker. The texture lies somewhere between off putting and comforting and he runs the pad of his thumb over one of the wrinkled corners, “Hold on now I-hCc!” Despite being a well seasoned drinker something must not have sat right with him this evening and he hiccups twice before he can continue.

“What was I sayin’?'' It comes out as one word on one hopps laden breath and he refocuses on his drinking partner for the time being, “Oh, yeah!” He hikes a finger into the air vaguely in her direction with one eye half closed, leaning on the rounded edge of the bartop, “We hardly even know each other, Little Miss!” With the bottle halfway to his lips he abruptly stops, one finger uncurling to point at her as well, “And I do declare-hmnn-hmm-hmm!”

Sharky can’t hardly help himself on a good day and he starts laughing. First he does try to subdue it, face pinching with the effort but he does release a painful snort, “I’m sorry,” He tries between a hoot, “I can’t even take my own damn self seriously- did you hear what I was even trying to say? I mean, woo-hoo!” He laughs again at the thought, cheeks and neck reddening with rising hilarity, “Me. Charlemagne Victor Boshaw the FOURTH!! Tellin’ an interested woman what’s for.”

“Well, I mean!” He realizes himself too late and he sputters trying to backtrack, bottle at his lips for a swish before he continues, “That is not to say that I am assumin’ nothin’ when it comes to that or you and me- and hey!” Feeling like he’s really only caught his first good, decent look at his comrade for the night, he tries to concentrate around the blurred, starry edges of his vision. “Hang on now, you remind me of somebody.” His face screws up in a look of near constipation, gears grinding and turning - trying desperately to form a single, cognitive thought, “I know you…”

“Aww,” Her voice is low and pitying, sickeningly sweet, “Sharky.” Tinged with a hint of hopeful disappointment, “You should just stop thinking.” She swivels in her seat, one leg folded neatly over the other and a halo of blonde shining under the overhead lights, “Just,” She inches closer, just slightly, forever luring him in but never setting the hook, “Hush that pretty head of yours and have another drink. It is,” The lines around her eyes set when she giggles far more youthful than her appearance, “On the house, after all.”

“Yeah,” He agrees though he isn’t particularly thirsty and when a bottle is pressed to his lips he takes a lengthy swig, fully trusting the woman he’s been speaking to. “I should,” So entranced is he that he hardly realizes the switch off. New bottle, different shape, “You’re right.” Directly from her hands to his mouth this time. “That’s an excellent idea-” He wants to elaborate but the thoughts leave him and he watches, happily, as someone he is sure he should know briefly interrupts their little two-person soirée.

“Yes,” He catches her saying, “Yes Father.”

The way she looks up at him with an unmatched, heady desire sparks a tight, hateful twinge somewhere deep within him and suddenly, without thought or warning, he’s getting up out of his seat- nearly jumping backwards off of his bar stool. He doesn’t say anything but he holds himself on edge, breath heavy and chest tight. Ready for what, he isn’t sure.

His new friend gets up as well. Slowly and placatingly she approaches him. Tiptoeing barefoot around the toppled stool she rests on her heels in front of him, pads of her pointers tracing the raised, bubble lettering of his sweatshirt. “Shame,” She sounds sad and heartbroken as she looks up at him through her lashes, “Things were going so well, wouldn’t you say?”

Though he is struggling through the haze, trying to break free from the control she has on him he finds himself nodding along, mouth opening, “Yes, I would.”

“Tonight was going to be the night, Charlemagne,” There is an almost supernatural, haunting tone to her voice that coats him to his very soul- viscous and charming is she, “The. Night.” She pouts feigning a sob into his chest and, despite the dread creeping in he embraces her, palms smoothing over the lines of her gauzy, lace dress. “Do you understand what that means?”

Sharky doesn’t respond verbally but his fingers tighten, digging into the curve of her shoulders underneath a layer of fabric that reminds him of the floral doilies his grandmother kept on surfaces around her home.

“You and me, together,” Though he is gaining his wits his heart aches for that statement, “Forever.” She spins once, heavenly, between his arms and humming, “It could be Bliss, you know.”

She looks up at him and though he knows he should make a move to run- leave this place and never look back, he dips his head instead. When their lips meet it is other-worldly. Charlemagne feels like blasting off into space with Larry and whatever that damn computer's name is he’s always talking about.

Though they are by no means alone, anything rooted in reality ceases to exist for him. They could be in the middle of a field, tornado overhead- bottom of a mountain with an avalanche barrelling down and he would be none the wiser. Sharky had never been one to buy into the whole ‘time stops’ theory when it came to being with another person and sharing intimacy, but? He is becoming a believer as the seconds tick by.

When they pull apart, each of their chests heaving for breath he takes a long, wisened look at her. This is? The enemy. Without a doubt- make no mistakes about it. This is wrong.

She opens her mouth to say something but unthinking and working solely on drive Charlemagne pushes forward, rearing her into the wall of, what he is now aware is, not a licensed retail establishment. The bus turned Peggie jungle gym decorating the center of Moonflower Trailer Park creaks and groans with the voracity in which he attaches himself to her.

In the many times he’d dared to imagine a similar scenario he at least envisioned some kind of refusal or rebuttal from the female Herald but she leans into him, eager to respond. Sharky pulls away, flustered lips biting a line down the side of her mouth to her chin. At her neck he particularly digs in, hands tying into her hair tightly.

“No one’s kissed me like that in a long time,” She’s a mixture of cross and ashamed, hands wrung tightly in the curled hairs at the nape of his neck, “Bastard.”

“Should leave you with a little somethin’ for Padre Joe, in that case.” He moves in as her mouth opens to object, teeth rough on the tender bend of her neck. A hand travels the curve of her ass, bringing her in closely as she responds.

“Sharky . . .”

He’s never heard a creature as ethereal as her breathless before and it takes battling an excellent sense of self preservation to make a line of mottled, swollen hickeys in every tender, erogenous zone he can manage to get to. “You like that?” As the Bliss really begins to leave him he does have the sense to start getting angry with her and her tricks despite their current entanglement.

She nods her agreement, little huffs of air tickling the short hairs on the side of his neck but it isn’t quite the type of affirmation he’s looking for.

“Let’s see, then.” With nearly any other woman he would likely not be this assertive but this is the second time she’s tried to drug him and take advantage of him to get him to join their stupid wacky cult and? He’s not concerned about pleasantries or anything resembling normalcy. The hand at her rear ruchs up the back of her dress just enough so that he can trace the outline of her panties freely before snaking a finger inside, “Oh, yeah?”

She has the decency to look embarrassed and he smiles wide, pleased, “You get all hot and bothered thinkin’ of ways to get me to say Yes, don’t you?”

“I-” He shifts, moving to bring his hand to a more advantageous position and she makes a noise of protest, “No!”

Sharky raises a brow at her and the way her barefoot slaps the ground in rebuttal, “You sure about that?” Reaching between them he adjusts himself, purposefully slow to return his hand to the apex of her thighs. Alight with joy at the look of frustration it causes he relents, “Now,” The decommissioned school bus creaks when she tries to vy for leverage against his slow, lapping movements, “Think real hard before you answer me-”

“Yes! I do- I,” Rachel cuts herself off sucking in a large, shaking breath, “Ohh! I love thinking of ways to bring you down, Sinner! I- mmm!”

Charlemagne laughs silently, eyes creasing up in the direction of the moonlight. Toeing the line of stern and gentle he leans in, lips and tongue and careful teeth against her. Two small, hot hands grip the width of his wrist, keeping him there, when he tries to adjust his stance and he grins against her, sickeningly glad to know he is doing well for her.

Nose against the shell of her ear and mouth working on and off in time with his digits he speaks gently this time, starkly aware of what her reality must be, “How long has it been since a man treated you right?” Apparently unable to speak, she shakes her head in the negative, teeth pinching her lower lip, “Never?”

“Shut up,” She barely manages.

“What?”

“I said shut up and fuck me, Charlemagne!”

His entire face screws up at that, her hazy spell broken. “No,” Sharky removes himself from her, head shaking in the negative, “Don’t think I will. Go home, Faith.”

“You can’t just stick your fingers in a woman and then tell her to get out, Sharky!”

“I can and I have and I will, Ma’am.” Taking a breath he releases what he’s debating on, “Not every guy wants it like that, Shorty.” Out of view within the bus behind her he reaches into the darkness, “Sooner you learn that,” He shrugs, looking stern though he is sporting quite the rock-hard erection, “Sooner we can do more than just talk.”

“Sharky-”

The shotgun blast dissipates the vision of her and he looks down at the barrel, nearly disappointed he hadn’t submitted and agreed to be turned into one of her newest pets, “Well. Least I got my twenty bucks worth.”

[knowingoverseer]

==>

Once again, you find yourself at the bar for dinner. 

Once again, you find yourself having a hard cider with your meal. And once again, you’re mentally scolding yourself because it’s starting to be a habit. Sure you were a troll, your alcohol tolerance was higher than when you were human, and sure it was helping take an edge off that actually let you sleep at night but hoo boy it was a slippery slope you did not want to find yourself sliding down again. You’d allow yourself one drink, with food, just one each night.  It hadn't been like this really until everyone was on high alert, and you found yourself getting so damn antsy. Truth be told you rarely touched alcohol anymore because of a past... incident, as well as trauma related with self-medicating and vices. Really your bro kind of fucked you up on any self-medicating habit, anything was fair game to justify a saw trap back in the day. Yeesh. But you weren't exactly stopping yourself either. It’s night like tonight you wished you still had a moirail. Not so they could stop you, per say, but at least someone to talk about it with and ask them if they could just... remind you to be careful if they ever note you slipping. But then, if you had a moirail still, you think you’d be in a lot better a mental place right about now. But that was all past now. It’s time to be your own damn moirail! And you down half your glass, letting the mug hit the bar a little harder than you meant to. Whoops.  “thanks again miss pm, yoU know i really oUght to bake a few pies for the bar over the weekend if i get the chance, i’m sUre those woUld go over well~”  You practically chirp, getting your things picked up and your empty food basket returned. You order a regular apple cider in a to-go cup and head back out to the lobby, wondering if there’s anything else you can help with before heading off to bed.

[karlyfr13s]

Oathkeeper Chapter 2

It was supposed to be a CS one-shot, but then the CSMM crew got ahold of me and now we’re in multi-chapter mode. Thanks to the ladies for their inspiration, enabling, and cheering me on. Looking at you @teamhook, @caught-in-the-filter, @hollyethecurious, @gingerpolyglot (tell me if you want added, and coach the newbie in where these actually belong).

A HUGE thank you to @veryverynotgood who is the most radiant beta and gives me flails that keep me going through the self-doubt. 

Links in case you missed Chapter 1 or prefer to read on ao3

Note: the rating is now M due to violent imagery.

Killian’s first week in Storybrooke was unconventional and more than a little confusing. Everyone in the whole bloody town seemed related, or at least so interconnected there may as well be blood involved; it drew attention to him and he spent most days certain he was being watched.

Certainly there were fewer eyes on him than on the young Lost Boy, Felix, and for that Killian was grateful. He observed the woman everyone called Granny as she put the lad to work with a nearly endless list of chores, always under her watchful, scrutinizing eye. In want of conversation one evening, he’d inquired about the choice to take on someone such as Felix. That had earned him a derisive snort and an eye-roll that rivaled Emma Swan’s when Granny explained in no uncertain terms that she was well-equipped for the job.

“Listen, Captain,” she leaned on the bar as he sipped a rum, “if I can raise Ruby through puberty as a damn wolf, I can handle one scrappy Lost Boy. What he needs is a strong guiding hand, and a good dose of responsibility--that Pan let those kids run wild.” Killian tipped his glass to her at that assessment, knowing all too clearly how the lads were deceived and used throughout their time in Neverland. “Structure, Hoo--it’s Killian, right?” she amended quickly. “Kids need structure and routine. You’d do well to remember that.”

Not for the first time, Killian wondered exactly how much Granny overheard and knew as she watched her patrons come and go. In fact, she was the only one in town who referred to him by his given name, most simply opting for Hook or Captain if they were being pleasant. Or ‘the pirate’ if they happen to be Emma’s father, he added. His ponderance was abruptly interrupted when the door crashed open and an exasperated looking Emma quickly crossed to the bar and sank down one stool from his own.

“This one calls for a whisky on the rocks, Granny,” she huffed, casting a sidelong glance at Killian’s own glass. “You too, huh? Must be going around today.” He watched as she shucked her red leather jacket, tossing it aside on the barstool between them and he gave her a moment, offering a quick clink of his glass once her own libation arrived.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Killian kept his voice light, noting the tension in the set of her shoulders and jaw.

She heaved a sigh and he made a valiant effort to focus on her stunning green eyes rather than the assets her movements showcased in that moment. “The short version? I’m sick of my mother,” she tripped on the word, “trying to be my life coach. I’m tired of inane ‘loitering’ reports from the surliest dwarf, and I cannot seem to get--” her momentum was immediately interrupted by the door and a sudden call across the diner.

“Ems, there you are!”

“--a single minute of quiet,” Emma finished lowly while Neal sauntered over and leaned against the counter, placing himself between Killian and her.

“So, I was thinking we could grab dinner. You know, you, me and Henry? Or maybe just you and me if Regina has--”

“Neal, I’ve had a long day. I am going to enjoy this drink, maybe a second, and then I am eating whatever I rummage out of the pantry at Mary Margaret’s since she and David are out on a date.”

“So you have the place to yourself?”

Killian understood the insinuation and clenched his jaw. He started counting backward from ten while he listened to Emma try to redirect Neal’s plans, and when he heard the other man’s second attempt to garner an invitation he reset the clock and started the count at twenty. Perhaps she cares for him, he reminded himself. She is tired and had a difficult day, but that does not mean she has chosen not to be with--

Her voice was suddenly raised and Killian felt like he was about four steps behind the conversation as he snapped to attention on the words she spat at the man across from her.

“Just go-- go, Neal. This isn’t happening. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. It is not happening .” Whatever expression she held in that moment must have been truly glorious to earn Neal’s melodramatic scoff as he stormed out the diner and slammed the door behind him.

Granny simply poured a healthy splash of whisky in Emma’s glass in reply before shuffling back to the kitchen as she had witnessed the whole interaction mere steps from Killian, who just now was actively working to control both his expression and the thoughts wheeling through his mind at her parting shot. What exactly was not happening between them? Where did that leave him?

Killian glanced over at Emma, her eyes ablaze as if challenging him to comment on the interaction. “Darts are quiet,” he offered congenially, smiling what he considered his most winning grin.

That earned him a quick bark of laughter. “And a little violent,” she smirked.

“Aye, that too, Swan.”

She held up her glass and they shared their second silent toast of the evening. “I could use a little of both,” she added as she got up, glass in hand and the beginnings of a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

“I hear rumor they even sell food at this establishment,” Killian pressed his luck a bit as they collected the two sets of darts and set up.

“You don’t say?” She shook her head at him and he watched her consider the offer. “Loser buys?”

“Of course, love.” He sketched her a bow, flourishing his hand and making a show of it to cover up his surprise.

“Not your love,” she retorted, sinking a bullseye on her first try while Killian considered how grateful he was that Granny accepted doubloons. Where had she learned to play like this?

...

Granny hollered last call only moments after Emma bid Killian goodnight, a lightness to her steps as he watched her go. “Looks like that went well,” Granny called over as she wiped down the last table.

“Aye,” he tossed Granny a wink, “and she stayed for three games. And dessert.”

For the life of him, Killian couldn’t decipher Granny’s laugh at this simple observation until the double-entendre dawned on him at last. He was tired and perhaps he’d imbibed one too many glasses if he was the one missing the joke...it was then he noticed Emma’s jacket still laying across the barstool where she’d first dropped it.

“Seven hells,” he took off to the sound of Granny’s whooping call as she warned him the sheriff walked fast and he’d better work for it. Work for what exactly? Killian mused as he jogged out into the night, no easy feat in full leathers with more than a bit of drink in him. He spotted her golden hair in the lamplight down the street and called out, thinking it the better option than startling her.

She spun on her heel, wobbled slightly, and burst into laughter as she leaned against the lamppost for support--clearly he wasn’t the only to enjoy one too many this evening. Ever the gentleman, Killian held her jacket out and ignored her comment about being chased down Main Street by a pirate.

“Princess,” he began, calling far too loudly given the hour, “chivalry demands I return your cloak, lest you catch a chill on this dark night.” She shushed him less than successfully as she giggled and fell into step beside him-- Emma Swan can giggle, he mused. “As well,” he continued, voice full volume and bordering on a bellow, “I must see you safely to your door. No doubt there are ruffians about, and all manor of unsavory ne’er-do-wells, all seeking mischief against such an elegant,” he chuckled as she staggered slightly, “and graceful lady as thee.”

“You’re such an idiot, shut up! Do you want the whole neighborhood awake?” Her scolding was half-hearted at best considering her idea of a whisper could likely be heard across the street.

“Do you think they’ll call the sheriff, love” He waggled his eyebrows at her and she swatted his chest. “Surely you wouldn’t throw a man in the brig for an act of noblest courtesy,” at that he draped her jacket over her shoulders while she led the way and proceeded to spin a tale of his own unimpeachable valor as a young sailor. When they reached her dwelling, she turned to face him before heading up.

“Why do you always get it? Nobody gets it.” He raised a brow at her question. “Gets me. Like Neal,” she slurred the name and rolled her eyes. “I have a shitty day at work and he decides to make some weird pass at me through the kid ? But you,” she leaned in and poked Killian in the chest, keeping her index finger pressed against his sternum. “You’re the...the flirty pirate king and you just...throw sharp shit at a wall with me and buy me drinks. You didn’t even check out my ass more than once.”

He absolutely had, but far be it for Killian to correct the lady when this seemed to be going somewhere rather interesting.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she slurred.

Before he could suggest this was likely a bad idea as she would potentially regret whatever her next words were to be, she pulled him down by one of his coat lapels and whispered loudly, “My mom is Snow White, right? So she’s all about ‘true love’ and ‘happily ever after’,” her whisper became what he thought was an imitation of her mother, though he doubted that Snow White had ever been six whiskies and two rums deep.

“So she thinks that Neal is like...my Prince Charming, but here’s the secret: he’s not a prince! He’s a con-man, and he sure as hell isn’t charming. So whoops, Mom! Wrong bet!” She laughed and let go of his coat, poking the end of his nose and whispering something that sounded like the noise boop in the most infuriatingly impossible-to-understand gesture he’s witnessed yet. She gave him a glassy-eyed smile, and in a parting shot that left him speechless, she cupped his cheek and in a much softer tone murmured, “Goodnight, Killian.”

---

The morning arrived after less rest than he’d like, but Killian snapped awake as  the sky first began to turn a dusty rose on the horizon. This was very likely the best mood he’d found himself in for quite some time, and he mused on the past twelve hours as he fiddled with the magic hot-water dispenser until he got the temperature just right. Unlike the Jolly , Granny’s provisions in terms of hygiene were lavish and he assumed they cost her a small fortune if Ruby and the guests enjoyed them as much as he did, but Granny assured him the soaps and amenities were provided, so he took great joy in letting the warm water run over him as he lathered up, breathing in the herbal and lemon scent so unlike the harsh lye soap he was accustomed to. This world without magic had its  charms, and hot water on demand was his latest favorite.

He arrived downstairs for his other new-world favorite - coffee - and Killian was pleased to see Emma already at the counter, though she looked a great deal less chipper than he felt. “Good morning, Swan,” he sauntered up to take a seat at her left. “Beautiful morning, don’t you think?”

She grumbled something about a headache and before Killian could reply, Granny swooped in and all but insisted she sit and have breakfast. Despite her protests, Emma wound up delayed in her arrival to her post that morning as she was cajoled into a substantial pile of eggs, bacon, and toast. “Complain all you want, Sheriff,” Granny eyed her as she set a matching plate before Killian, “but you two need to soak up some of last night’s fun. Now, eat.” After obligingly refilling their mugs with steaming hot coffee, to which Emma added more than a bit of cream and sugar, Granny retreated to another table as the morning rush filled in around them.

They ate in companionable silence until Emma glanced over and opened with, “I beat you at darts, didn’t I?”

“Aye, two wins to my paltry one, Swan. I’m only grateful we chose not to wager more than dinner and drinks on the game, or my pockets would be a great deal more empty.” She smirked at his comment, and the two chatted as they worked through their breakfasts, both seeming to come alive as Granny had predicted.

He should have known it was all going far too well.

The bell above the door chimed, and the bustle of the patrons picking up coffee and pastries on their way to work or leisurely enjoying their breakfasts fell to a whisper. Killian stayed perfectly still as he heard the man limp toward the counter, the gentle thud of his cane giving him away. From the corner of his eye, he saw Emma roll her eyes at his clipped “Miss Swan,” and Killian stayed frozen to the spot, not trusting his reaction in front of the woman who not only was increasingly important in his life--a thought he’d sort out, or studiously avoid, later--but also represented the local law enforcement.

He heard few of the words exchanged between the Crocodile and Granny, though neither appeared pleased to be having the conversation. Instead, his pulse pounded in his head and his vision clouded as he clutched the edge of the counter. Killian had the distinct image of grabbing that gold-topped cane and flipping it, beating the man about the head until nothing recognizable remained. Until the gold handle dripped red. He could leave him on the floor of this place, twitching as the last impulses of his brain forced him to dance to a soundless tune; Killian could simply walk to the Jolly and set sail, free of the memory of this vile excuse for a man.

Except that he could do no such thing. He sat next to the sheriff in a small town diner surrounded by people who already distrusted him to varying degrees. He was trapped in a land that was not his own and had no way-- nor will --to return to his own. He was a captain without a crew, and as his mind raced through the numerous ways he could rid himself of this loathsome creature he knew now was not the time and certainly not the place. Simply put, Killian refused to put Emma in a position where she would be forced to see the darkness that lurked within him. So he let it pass, and let the Crocodile go for today.

It wasn’t long after the disruption that Emma took her leave, and Killian lingered at the counter as he mulled over what to do with his day. Most days he helped Granny with the more physically demanding repairs around the place, but he felt caged and in need of something more challenging.

“Appreciate you not taking his head off in my diner,” Granny remarked banally once the place emptied. “You have any idea what it takes to get blood out of white grout? Oh, don’t look so surprised; nothing smells quite like fear and rage rolled up in one, and I could smell yours from across the damn room.” She waved dismissively and filled two mugs, sliding one to him and keeping the other for herself. “It’s hot chocolate, and you need it. Little liquid comfort never hurt anyone, so drink up and tell me about it.”

He sipped hesitantly, but the woman was certainly right about the comforting power of the elixir before him. Killian thought about his next words as he breathed in the sweet steam from his mug, letting the cup warm his hand as he held it. “You could...smell my emotions?” He felt it best to begin with the obvious inquiry and prolong the tale of his darkest day.

“I could also hear your heart-rate skyrocket the second you knew who came through that door, so I’m guessing there’s some history there. You don’t have to tell me everything, Killian, but I need to know if I can trust you when you’re in here. Gold comes in to collect rent monthly, and every now and again he has lunch as well. I need to know you’re not going to take a kitchen knife to the bastard while I’m serving sandwiches.” She levelled a scrutinizing gaze at him and waited.

Killian set down his mug and scrubbed his hand over his face, realizing he was in need of a shave, then realizing he was further delaying the conversation. He sighed, knowing there was only one right way forward. “I will not spill his blood on your grounds, Granny, not unless he spills mine first. You have my word.” She nodded once, waiting for him to continue. And so he spent the sunny morning explaining how he lost his hand to the Dark One. While Killian left out much of the story of Milah, he could not entirely avoid her role in the tale, explaining simply that the man she knew as Gold had killed the woman Killian loved right in front of his eyes. Granny was sympathetic and asked few questions, letting him choose how much to reveal. It was cathartic, in a way - a chance to tell someone this piece of truth. A chance to be heard.

When they were finished, Granny spoke briefly of her wolfish nature, a truth which Killian enjoyed as it made her acute hearing and perceptiveness make far more sense. “I know your heart-rate also picks up around a certain sheriff,” she added as Killian slipped on his greatcoat, readying himself to find busywork on the Jolly . “And I know hers does around you.” She eyed him closely then, searching for he knew not what. “Be careful with her, Killian. I don’t know everything--I’m not sure anyone does--but I can see enough to know she’s been hurt, and that hurt hasn’t fully healed. In fact, I’m damn sure the source of it just waltzed back into her life.”

He nodded his understanding and left her to her work. Given the woman’s preternatural understanding of her patrons, he was not about to argue. He chewed her words over in his mind repeatedly as he spent the rest of the day checking that everything aboard his beloved Jolly was in tip-top shape. While his life may be constant chaos in this world, at least he could be assured his ship was as perfect as ever.

[firemblem-fics]

you’re mine. | sylvain

-> Pairing: Sylvain x Reader | Academy

-> Genre: Fluff, Lime (?? is that what it’s called?)

-> Warnings: Cursing, Suggestive Scenes, Making Out

-> A/N: hee hoo this is as close to smut as i will write as a minor but it’s still a decent amount to be honest. sylvain’s academy age is 19-20, so reader is of course 18+ as well

To Sylvain, the ball at Garreg Mach Monastery was the perfect opportunity to scout. He’d planned the night perfectly, starting off a dance with Mercedes first. From there, he’d cast her off to the next man and reach for another lady in his vicinity, giving them each teasing winks and suggestive smiles to try and woo them into his bed.

This was a sure-fire way to get women wrapped around his finger. They’d run to him at his every call, throwing themselves at his feet whenever he pleased.

So why couldn’t he stand the sight of any woman now?

He stepped into the reception hall with utmost confidence seeping from his pores, but he couldn’t finish scanning the ballroom once his eyes laid on you from across the room. You were smiling and talking to Claude, who was standing way too close to you for Sylvain’s comfort. He wanted to stomp over there and yank you away from him, but that would tarnish his reputation.

Sylvain Gautier was supposed to see you as a toy. That’s how the two of you acted together- you both flirted relentlessly, making suggestive pickup lines and leaving lingering touches on the other to leave them flustered. It was just harmless flirting, it wasn’t as if Sylvain was courting you. That thought sent a pang through his chest, but he shook it off.

You were just another woman to mess with. You just happened to be more fun than the others. Sylvain was just a little more fond of messing with you because you reciprocated. And you reciprocated because you also didn’t feel any true feelings, right?

Sylvain watched as you laughed loudly at something the Golden Deer leader said, smacking his shoulder as he leaned even closer to you with a grin. Obviously you didn’t feel for Sylvain- you wouldn’t be so friendly with Claude if you did.

The redhead shook his head and took a deep breath, plastering on a seductive smile and walking to the first woman he saw- a beautiful brunette with an even better body. He leaned down and kissed her hand, leading her to the dance floor for a few dances.

You had just finished laughing at Claude’s latest corny joke when he looked up, his dark eyebrow quirking as he looked over your shoulder. You turned around as well, gazing at the pairs that glided across the ballroom floor with grace and nobility. If you weren’t so bad at dancing, you’d love to be out there with them.

“Looks like your boy toy has found another.” Claude pointed to said boy, who held that... gorgeous brunette close to his chest. His lips moved against her ear, undoubtedly telling her all the things he tells you as you walk past him in the halls.

Your heart clenched, but you rolled your eyes and took a sip of your drink. “And? He’s called a boy toy for a reason. It’s not serious.”

Claude laughed. “You’re obviously jealous. You just got an attitude with me- you never do that.”

“Listen,” You sighed, “I made my choice and sealed my fate by messing around with one of the most emotionally unavailable bastards there is. It’s fine.”

“Doesn’t seem fine to me.” Claude grabbed your drink from you and set it down on the table next to him, grabbing your hand and pulling you to the dance floor. “C’mon. I’m gonna help you.”

“You- what? Claude, I don’t need help.” You tried to struggle out of his arms, but they tightened against your hips and he leaned close, looking towards Sylvain before brushing his nose with yours.

“He’s staring. Has been since he walked in. Just- trust me.”

You looked into Claude’s eyes, which were shimmering with mischievousness. Typical. But, Claude’s plans and intuitions were usually right. You needed to trust him to do... whatever he’s trying to do. You nodded.

Claude smirked and pulled you against him even more, his head dipping down to press against your temple. You moved your arms around his neck to get even closer. You tried to focus on your dancing instead of Claude’s actions- you couldn’t help but feel a little uncomfortable letting someone else touch you while your crush watched, but you trusted Claude.

Suddenly, you stiffened and tripped over your feet. Claude had turned his head slightly and nibbled on your ear, licking the shell of it before moving down even more and pressing a kiss against the junction of your shoulder and neck. Your fingers tightened against the cloth of his uniform, slightly enjoying the affection.

Teasing words and compliments only went so far. You were a little touch starved- Sylvain did leave you high and dry at least once a week.

Claude lifted his head to look above yours, catching eyes with Sylvain, who quirked an unamused eyebrow at him. He smirked and slid his hand down from your waist, firmly grabbing your ass.

You gasped in shock, smacking his shoulder. “What was that for?”

“He’s not looking too happy. Thought I’d rile him up even more.”

Claude turned you in a slow circle, allowing you to see over his shoulder. Your heart dropped. He was wrong. Sylvain was pressed up against a different girl now, practically grinding himself against her as he danced around the room. He was obviously enjoying himself, not giving a single glance towards you. You sighed and lightly pushed Claude away. He gave you a questioning look.

“I- I need some fresh air. I’ll be back to dance more later.” You patted his shoulder and began to walk out of the ballroom when Claude called out to you.

“You might not be able to walk later, much less dance!”

You flipped him off right as the doors closed, leaving you alone in the courtyard. You walked around, breathing in the chilly night air and taking a seat on one of the benches in the area.

You felt foolish for thinking that Sylvain could have actually cared about what you were doing. Foolish for believing that maybe you were different from all the other girls. Foolish for letting him be different from any other boy.

You sniffed, wiping away a stray tear that threatened to fall.

“Quite the spectacle you put on back there.”

You jumped and stood off the bench, startled by the one voice you didn’t want to hear tonight. “Sylvain.”

“Y/N.” He stepped closer to you. “I noticed you left. I’m a little surprised you’re out here alone instead of with your new little fling.”

“Fling? You mean Claude? Oh, Goddess no, that’s not it-“

“It isn’t? Then why was he kissing your neck? I don’t think friends act that way.” His amber eyes darkened as he thought about the Alliance heir being so close to you.

“Oh, they don’t? Are we not friends?” Sylvain looked confused, so you gained confidence and stepped closer to him to elaborate. “Those flirts. The touches and compliments and everything else that you and I do. They’re the same thing that Claude did. You and I are friends, so why can’t he be as well? Could it be that you’re-“

Sylvain grabbed your wrist and yanked you towards him, pressing a rough kiss against your lips. You melted into it, your free hand reaching up to cup his jaw. Sylvain pulled away and wrapped his large hands around your waist, hoisting you up and giving you another kiss.

“Jealous? Yes.” He turned around and carried you towards the classrooms, pushing open the door to the Blue Lions room. “You’re mine.”

You suddenly scoffed. “I am? So I can’t go around messing with other guys, but you can mess with other women? No- let me down. I’m not doing that.”

Sylvain held you tighter during your struggling and closed the door, practically slamming you against the wood and pressing himself into you. He sighed and leaned in, gently brushing his lips against yours.

“Okay, okay. That was a shitty thing for me to do. Truth is, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.” He paused, thinking about his words. “I didn’t want to admit that I, Sylvain ‘Womanizer’ Gautier, had caught feelings for another girl I was just supposed to mess with. So I danced with others to try and get my mind off of you.”

His thumbs rubbed gentle circles on the dips of your hips and he looked up, gazing fiercely into your eyes before continuing. “But when you started dancing with Claude, I got mad. He started touching you and being all close, like how I wanted to be, and I let jealousy get the best of me. I- Y/N, I’m sorry. You don’t have to forgive me, but I promise you this will not happen again. I’ll be faithful to you and work through my issues-“

“Sylvain.”

“...Yes?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

He smiled and leaned in, still holding onto your hips as your lips met again. You gripped his shoulders tightly and smiled as he moved you both away from the door and laid you down on one of the tables. You ran your fingers through his hair as he moved down, beginning to trail kisses along your neck.

“You’re too good to me.” He groaned out, taking extra time to mark a spot on your neck that you were extra receptive to. “So sweet, and forgiving, and perfect. It’s like you were made for me.”

You couldn’t hold back a smile as you brought the boy above you back up for another kiss, this time opening your mouth to let his tongue in. Alone in the classroom, the two of you shared a dance of your own as Sylvain’s warm hands toyed with the hem of your shirt.

He slowly worked his fingers underneath the thin cloth, splaying one hand against your stomach while the other reached down to squeeze one your thighs that were wrapped around his waist.

Just as Sylvain began to slide his hand up your thigh, loud laughter echoed from the courtyard. You shot up and Sylvain quickly wrapped his arms around you, impulsively shielding you from potential danger- or embarrassment. You peeked over his shoulder and saw a small group- Dimitri, Dedue, Ingrid, and Felix- walk past the classrooms towards the dorms. They didn’t even spare a glance in your direction, much to your relief.

As the laughter subsided, you looked back at Sylvain, only to see that he was already looking at you with something that could only be described as adoration in his eyes.

“I guess the dance is over, huh?” You laughed, unable to hide the disappointment that you felt knowing that you’d have to be separated from Sylvain soon.

He gently smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I mean, we can still spend time together tonight. I want to catch up on all the times I thought about kissing you but didn’t.”

You smirked. “And how many times would that be?”

Sylvain leaned down and captured your lips once more. “Every time I’ve ever looked at you.”

[jordanlahey]

Devilish (1/?)

Pairing: the lost boys x demon!reader (there isn’t an exact romance pairing just yet.)

Summary: You heard that Max and his boys were killed by amateur hunters but you knew that wasn’t true. However there is now word that others are coming to claim their territory whether they are alive or not.

Word count: 1859

A/n: I’m no good at the summary cause i just had an idea and wanted to start writing so forgive me if it drags on a little longer than it’s supposed to but I have a general idea on what I’m wanting!

It's not long after the sun goes down that the monsters come out to play but not the monsters that your parents tell you about in stories like the big bad wolf or big foot. No, the ones that feed off human blood if you unfortunately catch their eye, the ones that cower in the dark during the day but they forget the other kind of monster that looks seductive to the eye with their lips dripping with sin ready for another taste, The monster that's as old as time itself, one that feeds off sins and the lust for souls of the poor and unfortunate. No one is ever warned about making deals with the devil, they don't believe in all that stuff but they'll believe in fairytales. Humans. Poor pathetic people.

You hadn't been to the surface in so long maybe around 86 years? You had heard that a certain coven of vampires have been eliminated but that was hardly likely, you tend hear a lot when you're down below. It was boring down there surprisingly, you all had a job to do you got the job of collecting souls but even then it takes 5 years or more for you to collect them. If you were lucky a certain demon would let you collect some souls on their behalf which is exactly why you are here anyway. Making your way through the boardwalk you can point out all they needy ones ready to make deals, you walk past a certain video store first not that you had any interest in buying or looking more likely the person who had owned it.

You strolled into the store looking around until you spotted who you were looking for. Max smiles at the customer as he bid them farewell, his smile dropped when he saw you walk to his counter.  "I didn't expect to see you so soon."

"Oh don't be like that Maxy." You pouted and leaned against the counter "I'm here on business not for you yet." You smirked but he kept his stoic expression causing you to sigh. "I heard you and your boys were no longer...undead shall we say?"

"You should know that we can play a lot of mind tricks on people Y/n." Max narrowed his eyes, he was no fun.

"I thought as much, how are the Emerson's?" You could tell that comment struck a nerve, you knew after they whole fiasco that Lucy drove herself and her sons elsewhere. "but while I'm here I might as well warn you, others think you are dead and will try claim your territory." You picked up a lollipop from the bowl and unwrapped it, Max just looked at you unbothered. You really weren't getting much out of him. "Come on Max, why do you not like me anymore? Long ago you considered me a daughter to you. What changed?"

"You changed Y/n." You rolled your eyes, course you changed that's what happens when you giver in to your instincts. Even if you could change you still wouldn't be the same.

"You of all people should know what giving into temptation is like." With that you left, you weren't gonna argue with him, you had people to see, your night was already planned: find the ones who's time is up, go make more deals, have a little fun messing around. Very, very busy. Max will come around when he wants to know about he's coming to make Santa Carla theirs, you also wouldn't mind getting your hands a little dirty.

Motorbikes roared as they speed down the walk ways and people screeching to get out the way, the bikes came to a stop and off came the four boys. The night was young and so were they, beautiful as they come but deadly as they are. They were also on the prowl for a meal as well as for to cause chaos around the boardwalk, as per usual the boys would head to the carousel for the start of their long night, this time the Surfer Nazi's know to steer clear of the lost boys they won't be their target tonight. However, after they leave the ride they all catch sight of a girl they've never seen before leave the video store, she looked good enough to eat and the boys would be happy enough to pass her around.

You made your way through the crowds to the bar where a man sat all by his lonesome, he fidgeted nervously his this hands and kept taking long gulps of his drink. It was obvious that this was the man you were looking for, walking slowly towards the table you joined him and a smile played on your lips as you batted your eyelashes at him in a seductive manner.

"You must be her? I got told that it would be someone different." Oh, so they hand out memos now? How mundane, the man dabbed a tissue on his forehead a few times before taking one more long swig of this drink. "I have a favour to ask." You chuckled at him, who is this man? Does he not know basic deal rules?

"A favour? And what might that be?" You looked over at the bartender and you silently asked for a drink, the man before you fiddled with his tie before clearing his throat as he tried to muster u[ the courage to spit out whatever he wanted to ask. People rarely ask for second chances from a demon, the ones that know better and are ready to face the consequences of their actions. Humans get 5 years with whatever their deal was however, depending on said deal and how easily you can persuade the demon before you, you can be given more than 5 years but only on the day of the meeting and NEVER after the deal has been made.

"I.." Your drink arrived and you swirled the straw around the glass waiting to hear this favour, resting your head on the palm of your hand. You lift the drink to your lips before he blurts out what he wants "I would like to make another deal!" You almost choked on your drink, this guy actually asked you for a new deal? That's the favour? How rich.

"Tell me something, haven't you heard about the rule 'no wishing for more wishes' in the presence of a genie? This is the same thing you cant ask a demon for a new deal when your time is already up my friend." You smiled darkly at him, however he is brave enough to ask but it was the dumbest question in your opinion.

"Wait! I can get you more souls! Err...my wife's, a colleague, my brothers! Any that you want!" You rolled your eyes, humans really are cruel. They'll do anything to get what they want. Greedy, selfish bastards, you look forward to sending this one to Hell he'll go straight to the fourth circle. You get up to leave knowing he's going to follow you whether he wants to or not, probably best to head down the alleyway to avoid more mundane eyes for this. "Wait! Where are we going? I want 5 more years! I'm not ready to go just yet." When you reach the bottom of the alleyway you pin the poor man up against the wall, your face now showing the anger you held back.

"Who do you think you are demanding 5 more years!? You don't get to ask for more with no soul. You belong to me now, your soul is mine for eternity. You never made a Deal with the devil if you are not prepared to pay the price." With that you snapped your fingers and the man was no longer there, nothing but a small piece of glowing blue light that flowed into your body. That's what a human soul had looked like.

David and his boys had split up trying to look for the girl they had seen leaving the video store, they lost her in the crowd and she didn't have a scent or at least they didn't get close enough to get one from her. David was starting to get annoyed was gonna give up and find his brothers until Dwayne had sent him a telepathic message that he had found her heading into woods, David chuckled and met up with all of them by the bikes and off they went.

You knew you were being followed, they were going to catch up in no time so why not have a little fun? You started running, slow enough for them to still see you. You were taunting them making this a game of cat and mouse, now tonight was starting to get interesting they were Max's boys definitely but he didn't set them on you no no, they are hungry and you will be their meal for the night or so they thought. You take a sharp turn away from the dirt path to go further into the woods so that they pull have to abandon their bikes and go on foot or fly if they must, if this was going to be a game might as well make it as fair as possible. The boys do as you planned they go on foot running faster to the point they were already catching up, you could hear Paul;s taunts he was the closest behind you, now if you played this out right you could lose them just a little further.

The boys skid and come to a stop, you had vanished from their sights and they had lost your scent again, Marko and Paul growled in frustration while David and Dwayne were trying to figure out how you out ran them, now you knew about them but they knew nothing about you and that's what made it so fun. It you were still there with them watching them as they circled the spot you left them in, you planned to stay at watch them a little longer but you couldn't wait any longer.

"Yoo hoo up here boys." All them them turned to look at you siting on a tree branch. "Looking for me?" You smirked down at them.

"Hey pretty lady, why don't you come down here and do this the easy way." The glam rocker known as Paul called up to you, you thought about it for a moment and you know Paul would be the most fun one to play around with. You shrugged your shoulders and got off the brunch but as son as you got down David already had his hand around your throat and against the tree you were just in, it shocked you but you chuckled bitterly.

"What the hell do you think you're playing at." He sneered however he has a slight smirk on his face too.

"You must be David no doubt." You looked at the others "Marko, Dwayne and Paul." You pointed to the boys as you said their names.

"How do you know that?"

"I know everything." You reply.