#like he takes off the barrel and it just climbs up onto his shoulders and he just lets it chill? i should kill you. i NEED to kill you

[wtfforged]

ive been seeing a lot of mermaid zoros lately and i like him and i think that silly octopus that he let cling to him in the jaya arc should be his little-mermaid-flounder-sidekick friend

[rae-writes]

the floor is lava!

om boys x reader

*all of these are optional romantic/platonic, except for Luke (obviously)*

wc : 0.9k

a/n : a fun little surprise post <3 I might make this into a little mini series- 

bsd ver. |

It was unusually quiet in the Devildom, considering there was rarely a time without some type of disturbance…

And sure enough, just when it seemed like it could finally be a normal day— 

“THE FLOOR IS LAVA!”

House of Lamentation 

Lucifer lets out the biggest sigh possible, poking his head out of the study to deadpan at his scrambling brothers. Despite thinking this is the stupidest thing he’s ever heard of, he doesn’t so much as blink when you barrel past him to jump onto his desk (and even lets you rest your legs in his lap as he continues working, faintly smiling when you mention he has ‘lava resistance’ so it’s okay his feet are on the floor) 

Contrary to what many might think, it was not Mammon who shouted it— even so, he’s sprinting his way from the entrance hall (where he’d just arrived back home) all the way to the common room to dive onto the armchair you’re occupying. The second born is curled in your lap the entire time and might even fall asleep before the game is called off 

And poor, poor Levi, in the middle of gaming but not willing to lose to this ‘stupid normie game’, drops his switch and lunges at you; it was a 50/50 chance on if you could hold him up at the sudden weight or if you’d both fall and die, but he was gonna take it (and it meant he could be in your arms) 

Surprise, surprise, it was Satan who started this chaos. He’d already been comfy and situated on the library couch, happily letting you climb on top of him when you came running in. Watching everyone flail about and run around cursing was simply too good to pass up (and for the first time, it’s also Satan who’s recording everything) 

Asmo has a bone to pick with whoever shouted this nonsense— he was in the middle of doing his nails! He’ll spew complaints as he clamors onto the table, though he’s quick to shut up once you throw yourself down right beside him. He has been wanting to do your nails too lately 

Meanwhile, Beel was too busy chowing down in the kitchen to even hear his brother and remained oblivious until you came sliding around the corner and launching yourself in his arms. He grins at your breathless ‘hi’ and obliges when you suggest he hop up on the kitchen counter to avoid the lava 

Asleep on his bed, Belphie both didn’t hear and was safe either way, and would’ve remained that way until he was woken by your screaming. He groggily gets up to see Mammon trying to drag you down onto the floor with him. It was funny the way Belphie sleepily snatched you up and walked right back in his room, slamming the door for good measure— his bed is the safest place, in his opinion 

Demon King’s Castle

You bet it was Diavolo who shouted it- courtesy of Levi telling him the HoL incident- and was also the one seen sprinting through countless halls with you thrown over his shoulder, slipping around the corners (he’d taken his shoes off for fast sock travel) before he touched base in his office chair. He doesn’t think he’s had that much fun with a game in his life- and he gets you all to himself! 

Simply shaking his head at Lord Diavolo’s antics, Barbatos continues with making the tea and pastries, raising a brow when you bust through the kitchen door frantically. Instead of letting you climb on the counters, he lifts you up with his tail and brings you in close, casually asking your opinion on the frosting (best. taste test. ever.) 

Mephisto was dumbfounded at the sheer childlike attitude of his lord, watching him take off sprinting with an agape mouth. His attention is quickly divided when you slip into his lap, listening to you rant about how you were so not prepared for this in the slightest. He doesn’t shove you off, to your delight— in fact, he just pulls you tighter against him so you’re further away from the ‘lava’ (this was a once in a lifetime opportunity- he was not wasting it just because the game was dumb) 

Purgatory Hall

Despite being human himself, Solomon had never heard of the game and decided to just let you tug him up on his spell table. He blushes faintly at the close proximity, nodding absentmindedly as you explain the rules; he doesn’t care much for it, but if it allows him to be close to you, he’d play it everyday if you wanted 

Oh yeah, Luke screamed it— he thought it looked so fun when you showed him a video and had to do it with the others. He’s laughing and hollering on your back as you run past the other confused angels, cheering when you both scramble onto the dining table. He’s definitely doing this again (but maybe with the demons, who will certainly give a better reaction) 

Simeon had absolutely no idea what was going on— only that you and Luke were zooming through the house and climbing onto things that should not be climbed. Before he could scold either of you, you’d hopped right over the back of the couch and ended up sprawled over his lap. He can’t bring himself to say anything other than ‘hi’ and smile at your silliness

If Simeon didn’t know what was going on, Raphael sure as hell doesn’t— “the floor isn’t…lava..?” It’s hilarious. He’s so confused, even after Luke hurriedly explains the game. He stands in place the entire time, watching, until you jump at him- and luckily his reflexes have him catching you easily. He still doesn’t know how to feel even then but he won’t put you down until you ask (please ignore the flush of his cheeks)

[astrophileous]

Love Bugs (Pt. 07)

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Female Reader

Synopsis: You and Derek Morgan have an arrangement. At work, your relationship is strictly business. Under the sheets, it's all about pleasure. Nothing more, nothing less. Until, of course, your feelings start to get involved. Your situation is complicated enough without the unexpexted predicament that suddenly befalls upon you. But with a maniac serial killer on the loose, will you ever get the chance to make everything right?

Warning(s): cursing, mentions and/or depictions of death, near death experience, usage of guns, mentions of injuries resulted from physical violence, mentions of strangulation, pregnancy, somewhat religious undertones (very minor), I think that's all?? Pls inform me if I missed any

Word Count: 3200-ish

Tag(s): @marvelousgoldroses @jay-2s-world @whore-of-the-pumpkin-patch @maxinehufflepuffprincess @cat-or-kitten @littleshadow17 @itzz-me-duh @geeksareunique @paisleebubbles @whateverrrrrrrrs @crazyunsexycool @bruher @spiderlillie00 @f1lov3r @louderfortheback @wifeyofeveryone

Author's Note: HI!! I can't believe we're finally at the end of Love Bugs OMG!!! Thank you so much for everyone who has stuck by this series through its ups and downs. I was initially planning to write an additional chapter to close off this story, but I realized that this is the right part to end it. With that said, I am open to taking requests of blurbs/headcannons for Love Bugs if any of you would like to see more from these two. Just send me an ask and I'll make sure to check it out! This story is my very first derek and criminal minds fic altogether, so it's pretty emotional to be saying goodbye to it. Again, thank you so much for reading Love Bugs and I hope you'll be around for any derek/other criminal minds fics I might have in the future ❤️ Don't forget to LIKE+REBLOG+COMMENT 🌹

Love Bugs Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

Derek knew that letting Hotch take the wheel was a mistake.

He was already marching towards the driver's side back at the HQ's parking lot when the older man had stopped Derek before he could get in.

"Your head is not in the right place right now. The last thing we need is to get into a car accident when (Y/N) desperately needs our help," Hotch had reasoned.

Derek obviously couldn't argue with that.

But Lord, did he wish that he had actually argued with that. He kept internally cursing his boss for not going fast enough. Never mind if the speedometer was teetering towards 60 miles per hour, it still just wasn't fast enough.

A phone call from Spencer and JJ came in around 5 minutes before Derek and Hotch were supposed to reach their destination.

"His new office is empty," Spencer had said. "She's not here."

That new piece of information meant that you were being held either at the UnSub's home--where Emily and Rossi were heading to right at that moment--or the old office building that, according to Garcia, had once belonged to the UnSub's father.

Derek wished that the office was exactly where the UnSub had been holding you all this time. Not because Derek wished to be the one to find you first--of course not, he couldn't care less about that--but just because Derek would prefer it more if he was the one to face the UnSub and point the barrel of his gun at your abductor's head, watching as the fired bullet penetrated his skull before the scumbag dropped dead onto the ground.

As soon as the SVU pulled up to the driveway of the office building, followed by two police cars, Derek wasted no time climbing off his seat and out of the car. His steps were tenacious as he stomped towards the entrance, purposefully ignoring Hotch's frantic calls of his name.

"Hey, wait a minute, Morgan. Slow down."

Derek pushed past a frowning Hotch, fully intent on closing the twenty feet distance between him and the front doors. But Hotch's hand on his shoulder faltered his steps once more, and Derek couldn't rein his anger when he finally decided to face Hotch.

"What the fuck do you want, man?!"

"You can't just barge in there. We need a plan."

"A plan?" Derek scoffed. "She could be dead by the time we draw up your stupid plan."

"Morgan," Hotch's voice came with a warning. "You're not thinking straight--"

"Hell yeah I'm not! (Y/N) could be inside right now, fighting for her life, and you wanna talk plans?" Derek took a step forward, leveling his burning gaze with Hotch's eyes. "You're the one who caused us this mess, Hotch. Do you really want her blood on your hands, too?"

In the many years of him knowing Derek Morgan, Hotch never witnessed such fury in the man's eyes. These were the eyes of a man who had nothing to lose. A man who was ready to sacrifice everything because his whole world was at stake.

"You're staying behind me," Hotch said at last. "Don't do anything rash, or I'll be forced to have you sit this one out."

As much as Derek wasn't satisfied by those conditions, he knew that it was the best option he could have, so he relented.

Under Hotch's command, the group of six split into three pairs as soon as they stepped inside the treshold. They checked every room in the two story building, but they all came up empty. Once they were back outside, Hotch received a phone call from Emily and Rossi.

"There's no sign of them in the house as well," Hotch said, repeating the exact words that Emily had informed him over the phone.

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Maybe he's taken her some place else. I'll call Garcia and see if she can pull up any other potential location."

As Hotch waited for the tech-analyst to answer, Derek began darting his eyes over the entire building once more. None of it made any sense. He knew that it was impossible, but something told him that you were close. You were nearby. Just a sliver away from his reach.

It felt like he had been staring at the building for an eternity when it finally dawned on him.

"Hotch," Derek called out, feet already moving again towards the front door, "this building has a basement."

Derek didn't wait for a response as he barged inside.

Behind him, the other five people scrambled to catch up with his pace. Derek went to recheck all of the rooms in that building, banging on suspicious looking panels on the wall and testing the integrity of the floor beneath him.

A clanking sound in the distance eventually tore his attention away. The mysterious noise was soon followed by a shout from one of the uniformed officers.

"We found this," the officer reported as soon as Hotch and Derek stepped into the furthest room in the building.

On the ground, a rusty metal bookcase lied haphazardly. Right behind it, a wooden panel on the wall was gaping. Derek locked eyes with Hotch, a silent confirmation, before Hotch nudged the panel wider with his shoulder.

The hidden room led to a flight of stairs leading them down towards a dingy basement. Hotch motioned for everyone to follow him as he stealthily moved towards a metal door on the far side of one of the walls. As Hotch grabbed its handle, Derek tightened the hold he had on his gun.

Everything else had transpired in a blur.

Derek only recalled seeing that horrific scene playing out in front of him for less than a split second--the image of that bastard putting his filthy hands on you--before his instinct kicked in. Two bullets from his gun; one to the shoulder and one more to the neck.

Derek barely even registered the gurgling sounds the UnSub was making as he rushed towards you.

Derek's heart was glass as he knelt by the chair, each piece shattering against his insides with every mark, cut, and bruise that he could see littering your skin. He still remembered the feeling of your naked skin under his fingertips. Soft and tender, like frosting on a cake. But now?

Now, it looked dull and lifeless.

With heart in his throat, Derek moved to touch your limp form. "Bug?"

No answer.

"Hey, (Y/N)? It's me. I'm here, Bug, please open your eyes," he pleaded. "Wake up, sweetheart."

The pressure in Derek's chest inflated. His palm felt ice on your face. His fingers around your wrist scrambled for any sign of life he could find, but there was none.

"Hotch! Hotch, she's not breathing!" Derek called out, a sentence made out of nightmares. "Help me get this off!"

It felt like an eternity until Hotch was able to hand Derek the metal cutter, which they then used to free you of your restrains. Your body slumped instantly into Derek's arms the moment they cut off the last metal cuff, and Derek tried not to dwell over the fact that you felt stiff and cold against him.

"You're okay, sweetheart," he murmured as he laid you down on the ground. "Come on, you're okay."

Those words kept repeating themselves over and over again as he started doing compressions on your chest. Prayers towards a God he hadn't spoken to for a while also slipped past his lips. Prayers for a miracle. Prayers for the heavens to allow Derek to take your place instead. Prayers for the universe to please, let him have more time with you, please, please, please.

"Morgan." Hotch's hand fell on his shoulder, but Derek never faltered. He kept on pumping your chest, willing for your heart--his heart--to start beating once more. "Morgan, the paramedics are here."

Reluctantly, Derek let himself be dragged away from you, giving room for the first responders to do their job. As he looked down upon his hands, Derek noticed that they had been shaking. Violently.

"Please be careful," Hotch spoke up. "She's pregnant."

"Clear," one of the paramedics announced before another one pressed the shock button on the defibrillator.

Derek stared helplessly at the flat line shown on the heart monitor.

"Again. Clear."

Every second that passed by was an inch of blade through his chest. Every second you teetered closer towards death was also his life undoing right in front of his eyes.

Derek thought it was over. His world was crumbling to ash all around him, stripping down the colors until all he could see was gray. He was standing on the brink of its wreckage when suddenly, he heard one of the paramedics yell, "We got a pulse!"

And just like that, Derek's knees gave out underneath him.

"Morgan!" Hotch caught Derek's shoulders, keeping him up before the younger man could collapse completely on the floor. "Hey, she's okay. She's gonna be okay."

Derek could only nod his head in response. Words tasted like lead on his tongue as he struggled to catch his breath. Tears streamed down his face like a burst dam after a rainstorm.

For a second there, Derek thought his world was ending.

But as he stared feebly at the paramedics wheeling your body away, Derek couldn't stop thanking the universe for giving him another chance. One more chance to be with you. One more chance to make things right.

This time, Derek was not going to let it go to waste.

Darkness was peaceful.

In the darkness, you were nothing.

But you had always wanted to be something.

With a heavy heart, you made the decision to say goodbye, to come back to the life that had been your constant for the past decades. To a world that, beneath all of the bad things you had witnessed in it, still had some good worth mentioning, too.

Like Derek Morgan, for example.

Despite everything that happened, you could never deny that Derek was a rare example of good in the world. And he was exactly the person who occupied your mind when you gradually regained your consciousness, letting yourself amble further from the promises you had rejected from the darkness.

When you finally opened your eyes, it felt like your body had been dragged through much more than mere mud.

Fluorescent lights blinded you almost instantly. You turned your head in order to escape the onslaught, but the pain radiating through your entire body made you whimper instead.

"(Y/N)." A gentle hand landed on your shoulder. "Hey, you're awake."

You blinked away the fog that had gathered in your vision, trying to make out the silhouette in front of you until it morphed into a recognizable face.

"JJ?"

"Yeah, it's me." She smiled. "How're you feeling?"

"Not particularly great."

JJ breathed out a laugh. "I figured."

You groaned quietly as you shifted yourself to a new position, JJ jumping in to help even before you asked her to.

"What happened, J?" you questioned once you had settled comfortably.

"I think that's a talk for later, (Y/N). For now, you need to rest."

"Please--" you grabbed onto JJ's wrist, "--I want to know. The last thing I remember was... was..."

Being strangled.

That was the last thing you remembered before everything went dark.

JJ's eyes flashed with understanding. "You were barely alive when help arrived. It was a miracle that Hotch and Derek got there when they did."

"Derek?"

The smile JJ gave you was full of hidden meanings. She gestured with her head towards the other end of the room, towards the direction you hadn't even once inspected since you woke up. A worn down couch stood against the wall, and on top of it, cramping himself into a position that was surely not comfortable, was the person you had been hoping to see since you opened your eyes in that dingy basement.

Derek.

He was sleeping with his arm draped over his eyes. He must have been tired, you thought. Or otherwise, he wouldn't have been sleeping so soundly in such an awkward position.

"How long was I out?"

"About two days." You couldn't hide your shock when you looked at JJ. "He never left, (Y/N). He refused to leave your side."

JJ's revelation compelled your eyes to stray towards Derek once more. You missed him. You were still missing him even when he was there, in the same room as you were, safe and sound.

As if she could dissect the content of your head, JJ spoke up again, "Do you want me to wake him up?"

"No, please. He needs the rest."

"Pretty sure he needs to see you more than he needs his sleep, (Y/N)."

Ignoring your protests, JJ circled the bed and approached the run-down couch in the corner. You watched with a drum in your chest as JJ gently shook Derek awake, smiling to yourself when you see him open his eyes blearily.

"Someone wants to see you," JJ informed, nodding her head in your direction.

It was as though a switch had been flipped somewhere inside of him. The moment Derek saw your eyes looking at him, any trace of exhaustion he was previously feeling automatically dissolved in a heartbeat.

"I'll better step outside," JJ announced, already retreating towards the exit. "The others would want to know you're awake."

With JJ's departure, the atmosphere in the room instantly shifted.

Before you could process what was happening, Derek had seemingly transported to your side. Now up close, you finally saw the lines of fatigue etching on his face. His muscular shoulders drooped slightly as if the weight of the universe was forcing him to forfeit his energy little by little.

Sitting by the bed, Derek looked hesitant as his hand hovered over your own. You eventually took matters into your own hand, tangling your fingers around his until there was no room for escape.

"I've missed you," you confessed.

A watery laugh rumbled past his chest. In his eyes, a cloud of tears had begun to build. He stared at you with such fervent. The person who owned his heart, the one he thought would take it away from him to the grave.

"You scared me," Derek confessed as well. "I thought you were gone for good."

"It takes a lot more than that to get rid of me," you tried to joke, which, judging by the expression on Derek's face, was not something he appreciated very much. "Wait. Derek, the baby--"

"Is fine," he cut you off, preventing you from spiraling any further. "The doctor said they need to monitor both of your conditions for a few days. But for now, the baby is fine. So are you."

You released an appeased breath before dropping your head back on the pillow.

"How long have you known?" Derek suddenly asked.

The question was inevitable. You knew sooner or later it would come up, but that didn't mean you were not still taken back when it did.

"A couple of weeks," you replied. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"I understand why you didn't." Derek smiled ruefully. "After everything I said to you--"

"We both said or did something we regret."

"Yeah. Me more than anyone."

"Derek--"

"No, Bug. You gotta hear me out." Derek took a deep breath, the frown between his eyebrows deepening as he stared straight into your soul. "I want you to know. I want to make sure that you understand how sorry I am for everything. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when you needed me. I'm sorry I said all of those horrible things back in Iowa. But most importantly, I'm sorry I was too much of a coward to tell you the truth.

"The truth?"

"I love you, Bug."

Your heart skipped a beat.

"I love you," he emphasized. "I don't know when it started, if it was before or after our arrangement began. I just know that I do. These past few days have been hell for me, Bug. I've watched all kinds of nightmares imaginable in the years I spent on this job, but none of them compare to what I felt when you were gone."

A stray tear escaped from Derek's eye, constricting your chest even further than ever.

It was the first time you had ever seen him cry.

"I understand if you want nothing to do with me after this. But whatever you want, I promise that I'll be there. For both of you." Derek's palm landed on your belly, right on top of the small bump that had just started to grow. "In any capacity you allow me."

Your whole body erupted in goosebumps following Derek's admission. His sincerity rendered you speechless. It seemed like hours later when you could finally find your voice again.

"Did you mean all of that?"

"Every word."

"Good. Because I love you, too."

Derek's expression faltered ever so slightly.

"I want every capacity you have, Derek. I want every part of you, every part you're willing to give because I need you. We both do."

Derek's smile, despite the tear streaks on his face, was the definition of relief and joy. He kissed your knuckles a million little times before leaning forward to claim your lips. It was a breath of fresh air to have his lips on yours after such a long time apart. Even then, Derek was still familiar. He tasted of home.

Hours later, the rest of the team stopped by to check on your condition and to congratulate the two of you over the little life that was soon to become the newest member of the BAU family. Once the crowd had dispersed, your hospital room fell quiet once again.

In the midst of that comfortable silence, you persistently tried to convince Derek to go to sleep in his own bed for the night.

"I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart."

"Derek--"

"Do you really think after what happened, I'm just gonna let you out of my sight? Hell no. I'm sleeping here. End of discussion."

"It's just one night, Derek. I'll be fine," you assured him. "You can't possibly be comfortable on that tiny couch. You should go home and get some decent sleep."

"The only way I can get a decent sleep is by making sure you're safe, Bug. So, please--" he tugged the blanket higher around your body, "--stop your yapping and get some rest."

You eventually yielded into Derek's incessant commands and allowed yourself to relax, not before giving him a very defiant pout that earned you one sweet kiss from the man.

It didn't take long for sleep to take over your body. But even once you had fallen into a very deserved slumber, Derek couldn't find it in himself to close his eyes. After the tornado that these past few days had been, a love confession from you was the best reprieve that someone like him could ever dream of. It still seemed so surreal that a part of him feared going to sleep just for the tiniest bit of chance that everything had, in fact, been a dream.

So, for one night, Derek figured that sleep could definitely wait.

For one night, Derek would spend his time thanking whatever higher power had listened to his prayers and sent you safely back into his arms.

The love of his life. The center of his universe.

His Pretty Bug.

Along with the Little Bug that was still growing life inside of your belly.

[jakescakeislateforourdate]

Kiss It Better

Dirtyhands is no stranger to brawling, he returns to the slat with his face bruised and knuckles bleeding, hoping for a little refuge from the intensity of the barrel.

No warnings just hurt and comfort as well as a briefly shirtless Kaz

Enjoy this garbage!

...

Kaz Brekker sucks in a sharp breath, pain shooting up his side and across his chest as his lungs expand. He leans heavily on his cane, hand clasped so tight over the crow’s head he worried the metal would be crushed in his grasp. He smacks his lips and endures. He still has the trip up the stairs to suffer through. 

The sweet aroma of the Slat welcomes him as he stumbles inside. But it does little to sooth the ache in his ribs and calm his burning skin. Hands all over him. Water rising up over his shoulders to suck him under. They’d touched him with their disgusting bare hands. He felt sick. He clearly relives the sweaty hand squeezing his throat and closing off his windpipe. 

Warm drops of sweat bead along his forehead, some find their way down his spine. He clutches the banister and lifts one foot at a time. The climb is painfully slow and he has to stop several times to quell the epicenters of agony blooming all over his exhausted body. 

He’s about halfway up when another fair of footsteps begin to accompany his. You ascend the worn steps much faster and are by his side in seconds. You don’t touch just listen. 

Kaz refuses to look into your eyes. He knows how upset you get when he’s hurt. You may never say anything because you understand how the Barrel functions but he can see it in your eyes and if he looks now his guilt for worrying you will overwhelm him before he gets to his office. 

You tread in the silence with him, your presence helping him find some sound mindedness. The waters begin to recede finally. Breathing becomes a little easier. 

He climbs and climbs until, at last, he leans upon his office door. “May I come in?” You ask quietly. Kaz only nods. He’s grateful for your companionship and he needs it now more than anything. 

He all but falls inside, grimacing and gasping when his muscles seize up. This when you step in. You reach out, with just the tips of your fingers, and prod his waist ever so gently. The touch is meant to guide him towards his wing backed chair that he likes to lounge in after rough days. He tenses but responds. He takes the final few steps that cover the distance from the door way to the chair, and slouches into the cushy leather. 

Not being able to miss his pain, you search he medicine cabinet in his bathroom for some paint medicine and fill him a glass of water. Kaz mutters a “thanks” and swallows down two of the pills. 

Next is cleaning up the cuts and tears in his skin. There’s a small laceration beneath his left eye, the blood already coagulating. You soak a clean cloth in rubbing alcohol and wrap it around your index finger. “Is alright if I clean you up, Kaz?”

Kaz nods again and tilts his back into the leather. You press the cloth first to the cut. His lips twist and eyes scrunch closed. You rub gently, it’s small so there’s no need to dig and soak or really even bandage.

You examine the rest of him: a busted lip, bruised throat, and bloody knuckles which are now revealed from the removal of his gloves. He tosses them onto his  desk and sighs. You set to work on his lip. A flicker of motion draws your eyes away from the stained cloth and angry skin. His eyes are open, watching you. Trying to figure out why you still care so much.

Once his lip is cleaned, you crouch down and begin to scrub at his knuckles. You don’t hold his hand, simply pin it between his knee and the cloth. Blood and ripped skin come away from the peaks of his hand. Internally you cringe. You can practically hear his teeth sanding away at each other as he fights down the pain. 

You take a break from his hands, Kaz lifts the hem of his shirt so you can check his torso for cuts. There aren’t any meaning his heavy coat cushioned his ribcage enough to keep the skin from splitting. But still, the dark purple splotches stretching over the delicate skin of his ribs breaks your heart.

“No need to look so blue.” Kaz grunts. There’s a slight smirk gracing his lips, the swollen fat, busted lip twitching.

You raise a brow, “Can’t help it. You know I hate this.”

“Can’t stop it.”

“Can’t I!” Your snap makes him chuckle.

“What? You gonna strap me to this chair, shackle me to bedposts?”

“Don’t tempt me.” You grumble and this makes him smile. 

“You know how easily I can pick locks.” He straightens up a little, proud.

You toss ideas around in your head, “I could kiss you. That’d make you stay put for a while.”

This wipes the grin off his face. Now it’s your turn to laugh. Dirtyhands is practically pouting. He drops his shirt and rests his chin in his palm. “Whatever.”

Kaz’s weakness is always a tender subject. You’ve never actually used it against him and he trusts you not to. But still, it’s not fair how badly he wants to kiss you but can’t. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if your lips were a weapon that left him defenseless for a little while. 

If only to have that one kiss. 

You set in on the knuckles of his other hand. A long snake-like scar trailing across the skin. You’ve never found out where it came from but it’s always caught your attention. 

As Kaz watches you work, he recalls something. A very distant memory of his mother kissing his scraped palm. He’d tripped and scraped it on the gravel roads while out helping Jordie. His mother and dabbed at the torn up skin like you were doing now, and then when she had it all bandaged she placed a loving kiss on the meat of his palm. He remembered how comforting the gesture was.

He thinks of your lips.

He watches you wind clean white bandages over his reddened knuckles. You won’t actually be touching his skin. 

The kiss-

“Darling,” He begins. You’re certainly not his mother. But you are perhaps the only refuge he has left. “Will- willyoukissitbetter?”

The words spill out so fast you almost don’t know what he’s asking. But then you see the blush spreading on his cheeks. His gaze drops from yours. He’s bashful.

You smile and scoop his palm carefully into yours. You bring his knuckles to your lips and lay a kiss onto the bandages. Kaz blushes impossibly deeper and turns into his other palm, hiding from you. 

“Give me the other.” You demand and hold out your hand expectantly. Kaz glances sideways at you and drops his other palm into yours. You kiss the knuckles of this hand, this time laying a quick peck to each curved bone. 

The waters are at his feet but Kaz will win this time. Victory will be his and maybe, just maybe, he’ll have a kiss as his trophy. 

You kneel before him, replacing his hands over his knees, “Anything else?”

Your eyes glitter, not like the stars, but like the flickering candles in the windows of the Barrel. There’s an enveloping solace to them. He’s drawn in and fallen prey to you. 

Dirtyhands has been properly succored. 

He taps his blackened eye. Wringing his fingers nervously. What will your lips feel like on his skin? What if he can’t handle it? 

Then you are there. Your warm breath fans over his throbbing cheek. So lively. Your lips brush tentatively across his cheekbone before finally coming to rest just beneath the cut. Kaz closes his eyes and revels in the proliferating amenity in his chest like creamer in coffee. 

Then you’re pulling away and the water fills your absence.

Come back! 

He wants to call to you.

Don’t leave me!

You survey his expression, monitoring his emotions the best the you can. His walls are falling apart and he cannot scrape together fast enough to keep you out.

His hand cups your jaw, his head tilts, he pleads silently for your sympathy. Just the compassion he has never found in the Barrel. All in a kiss. 

Your beholden eyes never leave his as your chin tips forward. Your lips slot against his. Through the blood of his pulsing lip and the bile in his throat, he tastes glory.

The splendor and conquest spread from your tongue, onto your lips, and flood his insides. He melts like chocolate, heart thundering against his chest. He can’t breathe, whether it’s from the panic or the joy, he can’t decipher. 

The length could not dampen the kiss. Kaz has gained ground. His shaking hand leaves your jaw and you part. He wants to kiss you again but he knows he’ll over do it. So you thanks you. He leans back in his chair and smiles at you, finally relaxed. 

You’ve given to him freely and in time he’ll return it. But most importantly he’s found that you cannot defeat him through touch. “See.” His grin grows mischievous. “You could not keep me here if you tried.”

...

Dear Reader,

          Thank you for reading this post. If you liked it your are welcome to checkout my masterlist as well as request. Feedback is always welcome. If you have any questions you are free to ask and once again, thank you for reading. Have a nice day.

                                                      -the author, Lady

[silentsamlikesham]

I was surprised there wasn't more fics like this for the fandom. Macho boys need to be soft sometimes....

Zoro x Sanji

..................................

Sanji’s shoes click rhythmically off the cobblestone pavement as he stalks towards the ship. His eyes watch the cracks in the ground and the uneven bumps in the stones until they fall away to crooked lines etched into the wood of the dock.

He doesn’t lift his head as seagulls circle him, their sharp eyes catching the few bags Sanji has dangling from his wrists. He doesn’t take in the sight of sailors throwing barrels onto ships or jostling past him in a hurry to grab more rope, and food and booze from the carts that sit on the edge of the ships. 

He doesn’t flinch when the seaside breeze cuts through his hair, plastering it across the wrong side of his face as he climbs onto the Merry. Not even the splash of sea water from below, that soils the cuffs of his pants, can rip him from the haze of his foul mood.

The first time Sanji glances up from the floor, is to watch behind him as Zoro reaches the bottom of the rope ladder. He takes a brief hiatus from his gloom to watch smugly as Zoro struggles to use only his legs to get aboard.

One of his arms is coiled around a barrel of beer, the other is weighed down by as many shopping bags as Sanji could throw at him, topped with a box he’s balancing between his bicep and shoulder that contains large heavy pieces of meat. 

The swordman seems to sense he’s being watched because he peaks a look up at Sanji, his eye’s just visible under his bandana.

“You going to help me, Curly?”

Sanji tsks loudly, his brief smile at the other’s struggling twisting into a frown again as he remembers just how pissed off he is.

“Screw you, Mosshead.” 

The clack of Sanji’s dress shoes echo across the deck of the ship as he storms off towards the pantry, the door to the kitchen banging loudly behind him as it slams shut.

Zoro blinks slowly, shaking his head as he convinces himself not to think too hard about what has set the cook off. Knowing how temperamental he could be, it could be as simple as an eyelash grazed his eye, or maybe he had to buy a bruised fruit or something.

Zoro decides to ignore the temper tantrum and instead focuses on getting over the side of the ship and safely onto the deck. He kicks the door to the kitchen open, not feeling bad when it slams loudly against the cracking wooden wall. It’s not his fault someone had shut it when they knew his hands were full, and Zoro was not dropping any of stuff in his arms until he knew he’d never have to pick them up again.

“Oi, watch it moss for brains.” Sanji snarls, already halfway through unpacking one of the half full bags he’d decided not to throw at Zoro.

Zoro noisily drops everything from his left arm, the sacks opening and almost spilling their contents, while the box dents on one side. With both arms Zoro carefully drops his booze barrel onto the floor, the only thing he cared about getting safely back to the ship.

“What the hell, idiot. You better not have bruised anything.” Sanji seethes, storming forwards, his eyes not even on the products.

It was clear the cook wasn’t upset about the door, or the dropped goods. No, Zoro knew by now his rival was itching for a fight. Well, if that is the case,  he’d give him one. 

“What’s your problem, Ero-Cook? You don’t like how I handle them, then you carry them.”

Like expected, his blonde crewmate sucks in a breath before he easily spins his hips and launches a kick at the side of Zoro’s head. The hilt of a sword catches the edge of his ankle, stopping the impact by mere centimetres.

“Isn’t your job on this ship to be the pack mule?” Sanji hisses, leaning forward enough that Zoro can feel a flick of spit hit his chin. “Can you do anything right?”

The next few clashes between the pair are nasty. A pinch of hurt mixes with a wave of fury and frustration as Zoro matches the tempo of the other’s hits. They block, dodge and slam into one another, a litter of bruises and bumps being left in the wake of their moves as they throw insults back and forth.

It’s nothing new, nothing unusual between them, but it feels strange to Zoro. Sanji doesn’t feel like he’s letting off steam, not when one shoving kick almost breaks a rib, or when the next kick almost comes crashing down on his skull at practically full force, hard enough to crack bone. The cook clearly seems upset with him.

“What-” Zoro slams the hilt of his second blade into the side of Sanji’s knee, unbalancing him, “is your-” He steps further shoving into the cook and knocking him back onto his ass, the tip of Yubashiri pointing down at him “fucking problem?”

Sanji’s glare trails from the tip of the blade up to Zoro’s face before he growls back “You. You ruin everything.” 

With that, Sanji uses a kick to knock the blade away before he pushes forward, barely lifting off the ground as he tackles Zoro at his knees, knocking him onto his back and briefly winding him.

He probably could have taken the hit, but he’s so surprised that he doesn’t even realise what the cook is doing until he feels two sharp knees digging into the inside of his elbows. His arms are pinned, stretched outwards with his swords as far from his opponent as possible, as Sanji sits heavily on his chest.

Zoro’s so startled by the approach that he goes to swing his head, to whip the sword in his mouth at the hot head, but before he can, Sanji has taken the sword away. For a moment, Zoro thinks he’ll join Sanji in feeling murderous, but some of his anger is quenched when he realises the cook doesn’t toss the blade away, but instead places it carefully above Zoro’s head, just out of reach of his mouth. 

“You couldn’t just keep your mouth shut at the market, could you?” Sanji pants, pushing as much weight into his knees so he can, watching Zoro flinch as they push through muscle and pinch at nerves.

“What are you talking about, shit-cook?” Zoro tries to move his arms, he knows he’s strong enough to lift Sanji’s scrawny legs off him, but for some reason, nothing happens.

“You just had to butt in about booze right as I was getting somewhere with that beautiful blonde-haired beauty. You had to open your stupid mouth and ruin it.” 

Sanji thinks back to the lady, all curves and soft lines and a small timid smile. The brief laugh she paid him for a weak joke was enough to make Sanji float. He’s sure he could have charmed an evening with her while they were stuck on this island, but big mean and green had to ruin it all, as usual.

“That’s what this is about? You striking out with yet another clueless chick?” Zoro continues to struggle, becoming perplexed that his strength seemed to have left him.

“Don’t call women demeaning shit like that.” Sanji snarls, only refraining from hitting the green bafoon when he notices the other looking worried at his arms twitching uselessly beneath Sanji’s hold.

“It’s not going to work, Mosshead. I’m leaning on a weak point in your arms.” 

Zoro’s attention turns back to Sanji, his brows furrowed in thought as though he wasn’t sure to believe the blonde or not.

“Apologise, and I’ll move.” Sanji bargains, his temper subsiding as a feeling of victory settles in his chest. 

“Eat shit.” 

Sanji grins at the discomfort on Zoro’s face, the sweat breaking out across his forehead as he struggles to get himself back in a position of power. The blonde decides to lean his upper body back, a show of how long he is willing to wait for Zoro to cave. His hands fall lazily behind him as he goes to rest one of them on Zoro’s stomach. 

The movement surprises the swordsman, the hand going unnoticed until he felt gentle fingertips dragging across his ribs, pushing at the taut skin. The lack of sight, mixed with an unusual place for Sanji to touch him is enough to cause Zoro to flinch, to let the smallest involuntary gasp through his lips as his breath hitches and his eyes widen in genuine surprise. 

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. 

Maybe he didn’t notice?

“Oho, what was that Marimo?” Sanji, having literally felt the hitch in breath beneath him, stares curiously at his hand, then looks back at Zoro’s face, the faintest dusting of a blush growing on his cheeks as he suddenly refuses to meet Sanji’s face.

The cook might have just taken the reaction as having hit a bruise, but the discomfort on Zoro’s face makes Sanji curious. So, he does it again.

This time his fingers brush relentlessly over the spot, the touch getting softer as he realises it elicits more of a reaction from the man beneath him. Sanji can’t help the grin that spreads out across his face as the pieces start to click together.

“Oi, Marimo.” Zoro glares a hole through Sanji as he meet’s his gaze, his blood boiling at the sight of the smug expression on the assholes face. “I didn’t know moss could be ticklish.”

Zoro tries to keep his face neutral as he opens his mouth to deny it, to tell Sanji he’s an idiot and to get the fuck off him before he skewers him, but before he can…Sanji squeezes his hip bone, his long fingers coiling into the exposed hollow of his hip.

He thought with all his hard work and training over the years that he could have held back his reaction, hardened his mind until he felt nothing. It doesn’t work. Not with Sanji’s weight holding him down, his arms and swords useless for once, his rival’s touch soft against his skin. This was new, this was terrifying, and this was something Zoro had never prepared for.

He lets out a bark of laughter, his face whipping to the side in embarrassment and panic as he tries to will the flush climbing up his neck away. 

Sanji forgets to be angry, forgets he was ever upset, forgets completely about the blonde that started this whole scene. He can feel the echo of the laugh through Zoro’s chest, can feel the panicked breaths that follow against his thighs. His eyes are locked on Zoro’s watery smile, not used to seeing such a shy grin on the swordman’s face. 

He squeezes again, Zoro’s eyes twisting shut as though not being able to see what was happening would be enough to make it go away. He loosens his grip slightly, scratching the area instead, his nails bluntly dragging across the cotton of Zoro’s shirt as a groan from his mouth turns to soft giggles.

Sanji is pretty sure he’s forgotten how to breath. It’s like he’s afraid to. That he’ll make too much noise and miss a single sound coming from Zoro’s lips.

“Didn’t think a brute like you could giggle.” Sanji teases eventually, pausing his assault long enough to see if Zoro will answer him, if he is capable of speech.

Zoro is pretty sure he’s going to die. His chest is tight after less than a minute of this. He can’t think, he can’t breathe, his hip feels like it’s been electrocuted and now Sanji’s words are burning him. He can feel the heat radiating from his skin, the tension in his limbs will surely snap at any moment. When it does, it’s likely he’ll melt into the wood of the floor.

“What, no quip back?” Sanji is laughing now, joyfully too, not his usual cruel cackle that he uses to taunt Zoro mid-fight. 

“Shu-huh-ut up!” Zoro gasps, trying to regain his composure. 

He can’t remember the last time someone had pinned him like this, and certainly can’t remember a time when someone ever tickled him like this. He hadn’t even considered he was ticklish, not since he’d grown up.

“Aw Marimo, that’s not very nice.” Sanji’s eyes are practically shining as he leans back with both hands now on Zoro’s stomach, all ten fingers curling into the soft dip just below Zoro’s abs. 

Zoro’s eye’s practically bug out of his head at the sensation. Any thought of shutting down his nervous system disappears as he lets out a stream of loud laughter, his legs curling and kicking out behind Sanji, his back arching off the ground, nearly hard enough to push Sanji off him. But the blonde was able to stay on top, his laughter joining Zoro’s.

“Oh, mosshead. I think I’ve found a way to indefinitely win our little fights now. Let’s hope no one outside the crew finds out about this, eh?”

Sanji’s words are too much, too condescending, and sweet and frustrating. 

“I-Ihh- I’m go-ahah-gonna cut yo-oho-you’re fucking tongue ou-ouaha-out.” Zoro warns, deadly serious for once. His threat sounding ridiculous though as his voice cracks at the end, his laughter hitting a shriek as Sanji traces a spot just above his pant’s line. 

Sanji hums, unimpressed. His hands disappear from Zoro’s stomach and for some reason that’s worse. Zoro’s gaze snaps from the door to the kitchen back to Sanji as he desperately tries to anticipate whatever the fuck the cook is going to do next. 

He’s too slow though because he doesn’t feel the hands shoving under his exposed armpit’s until it’s too late. Not being able to drag his elbows into his sides is torture and his shrieking continues as his nerves tingle from his chest all the way to his fingertips.

“I don’t think the world’s greatest swordsman is the only title you’ll ever earn; clearly most ticklish swordsman is already yours.”

It’s the worst comment so far. Mainly because the cook has just fucking admitted he think’s Zoro can achieve his dream. The compliment is weird and warm enough to have butterflies fluttering in his gut while his lungs seize in his chest. His face is beetroot red at this point as Zoro starts to feel like he’ll never escape.

But just as he thinks this, Zoro registers his legs, which have been twisting and convulsing this whole time…Sanji is settled on his chest. Zoro’s legs are completely free. He mightn’t have trained his kicks like the cook, but he can still swing them as well as any other competent fighter.

As Sanji opens his mouth to tease him further, Zoro moves. He brings his knees up with as much force as he can in his position, and they hit Sanji square in his lower back. He knocks the cook forward just enough that one of his knee’s shifts from where they were pinching the nerve in Zoro’s arm and in a blink of an eye he goes from a laughing mess to grappling Sanji’s waist, rolling the pair over until Zoro finds himself nestled in between the blonde’s legs, his hips pining the other’s down.

Sanji is blinking owlishly up at the ceiling, disorientated, and confused at how he ended up in this position. 

Zoro wastes no time in hopping up and falling back down on the other’s thighs, preventing any kicks or twists that might come his way. He gives Sanji a second, relishing in the horrified expression on his rivals faces before he digs both his large hands into every inch of skin he could on the blonde’s stomach and is rewarded by a loud wheeze followed by a stream of curses and laughter as Sanji loses it beneath him. His whole being wiggling and convulsing and suddenly Zoro doesn’t feel as embarrassed or weak.

He was going to kill the blonde, tickle him to an inch of his final breath and make him promise to never try this shit again, to beg and cry for Zoro to stop...

But the heated feeling dies in his mind as soon as he thinks it, because Sanji laughs like it means nothing. Like he doesn’t care that he’s being lit on fire by Zoro’s touch. He meets Zoro’s eye like they’re sharing a joke over a drink, like they’ve just surprised yet another unsuspecting crew, he looks at Zoro as if they’re friends…and it kills Zoro. Destroys him in a way he’s not expecting.

So, he stops, his fingers stilling when Sanji’s eyes gather tears and his face is as red as Zoro’s own.

He doesn’t tease him, doesn’t trust himself to say a single word when his mouth has dried, when it feels like cotton in sitting in the centre of his tongue. 

“Tr-ucahaha-truce. Plea-ahah-se Marimo.” 

Zoro stares at him until Sanji squirms uncomfortably at the silence. He watches the emotions swirling in Zoro’s eyes, his face it’s usual mask of secrecy. The idiot looks lost, like he’s stuck on something particularly complex.

Sanji hasn’t a clue what could be happening in the green idiot’s brain, so he doesn’t push him. Not when he’s still menacingly looming over him, ready to pounce. 

Sanji handles him the way he always does when he needs Zoro to comply without needing him to actually agree with him.

“I’ll let you drink a bottle of the good booze if you let me up?”

Zoro grins then, the tension washing away as Sanji offer him something familiar, something safe. 

He grunts as he stands, surprising them both when he offers Sanji a hand up. 

He takes the hand, letting Zoro pull him to his feet, surprised when the other pulls him close, his breath tickling Sanji’s ear as he hisses “You tell anyone about this, and not even the world’s best sake will save you.”

Zoro pulls back then to glare as threateningly as he can at the cook. Sanji looks stricken, maybe a bit intimidated for a second before he bursts into laughter. Zoro pouts at the response, forgetting none of his intimating tricks work on the pervert.

Sanji gooses his side as he dances out of Zoro’s reach and towards the drinks stash, laughing as he replies over his shoulder. 

“Next time I won’t forget to pin you properly, moss for brains.”

The threat sounds more like a promise, like Sanji is already planning his next attack. It makes Zoro uncomfortable, afraid, and slightly excited. The same mesh of emotions he always gets from fighting with Sanji.

Maybe, this would be another form of release for them. Another way to pass the time on the ship and let off some steam.

He tries not to dwell on the fact that a tickle fight was far less acceptable for a pair of terrifying warriors than genuine bruise inducing sparring.

Who could judge them out at sea? Who would learn of what they did on the grand line behind a closed kitchen door.

Zoro wanted to hear that laughter again, wanted to see that grin across the cook’s face…and maybe, he admits quietly in his brain as he takes the first gulp of his drink, he was looking forward to having the cook tease him like that again.

To beat him with a soft touch, rather than a short blunt one.

Zoro needed to drink the entire bottle placed in front of him before he lets his thoughts continue, before he reaches a conclusion, he’s been avoiding for months now.

He holds out his empty cup and receives a scoff in return as Sanji fills it again, the two of them clinking their next glasses together in a silent ‘cheers’.

They’ll figure it out, whatever this is.

They’re nakama after all. 

[xo-rihanna]

Hurt - Neteyam Sully

Warnings - Descriptions of blood and injury

Update - Thank you so much for liking this. Genuinely expected this to get about 5 notes ngl. It means alot. I enjoy writing so much so I'm glad some people have enjoyed what I've produced <3 I have also made a part 2 to this if you're interested called 'Break me' You'll find it on my page. It is a smut so check it out if thats your thing. Thank you all so so much :)

Neteyam didn't like you joining the missions. Don't get me wrong, he knew you'd be amazing at them. No one could deny that you were an incredible hunter. The minute you got on your Ikran, he couldn't take his eyes off you. You left him purely in awe. But he always had a nagging feeling in his stomach that something would go wrong. He was like a hawk, watching your every move waiting for something to happen and for him to swoop in. His sweet golden eyes were so full of concern and worry he could hardly get his head in the game.

Today was no different for him. He begged you not to join but you were too stubborn to accept the offer of staying home with nothing to do. You wanted to help, you wanted to feel like you were pulling your weight for the clan. "Ma Neteyam. Always so worried." You stroked his braided hair that morning as he buried his face in the side of your stomach, keeping you locked in his arms so you couldn't leave and get yourself hurt.

Eventually he had to let go and he couldn't stop you joining the war party. He hung his head almost in shame, like he was letting you down as your mate for letting you put yourself in such a dangerous position. The sky was clear as you readied to take off for the mission. The trees hardly stirred as if they too were listening for sky walkers to invade at any moment.

Neteyam was quiet. Too quiet. It made your tail flick in concern and an uneasy feeling settle in your gut. "Teyam." You soothed, putting a small hand on his large shoulder. He continued to look down, making it look as if he was busy buckling his saddle to his Ikran Seze. "Neteyam look at me." You moved his chin to force those liquid gold eyes to look up at you. He softened at your face.

"I know you don't like it. But I can take care of myself. Please don't worry for me." You stroked his cheek. His face scrunched and he let out a feeble laugh, "You are very capable of protecting yourself I know that. But I will always worry for you, my yawne (beloved)."

He wrapped his strong arms around your waist, pulling you so you were skin to skin and you could feel his heartbeat against your own. Even his heart sounded worried. His eyes flickered between yours and your lips before finally closing the gap. His lips were soft and comforting. You wanted to call off the war party and stay like this forever. Neteyam was desperate not to let you out of his grasp. But he had to and he instantly regretted it.

You kissed his nose gently. "There is no need for the dramatics, my love." Giving him a smile.

His heart ached as you walked out of his touch and climbed onto your Ikran making the bond and pushing your headpiece further onto your forehead. Sucking in a breath, he did the same.

SOME TIME LATER, MIDWAY THROUGH THE FIGHTING

Neteyam had done well to not check on you so much during the fighting. But more gunships were falling in faster then you could count. Neteyam was having a hard time himself dodging hits.

He looked to you and saw you were handling yourself well. You had minimal damage, he could only see a few scrapes. He got caught up watching you flawlessly in your element, taking down ships with the help of your Ikran and your archery skills.

Neteyam was too focused on you to notice the gunship targeting him. He had just regained focus in time to miss a flurry of bullets. "Oh shit!" He yelled, swerving and barrelling to avoid the fatal hits but they were gaining on him.

He frowned when he noticed the shots no longer being fired in his direction. He looked back through knitted brows to see that you had taken it upon yourself to help out your mate.

You effortlessly shot an arrow through the chest of two skywalkers at the same time and then flew above the craft to take it by its tail. That's when it all went wrong. Neteyam saw it all in slow motion. The skywalker positioning his gun in a frenzy and pulling the trigger. The bullet puncturing your torso and the look on your face as you saw the blood flowing from the wound.

You quickly lost your strength, relying on your Ikran to keep you in the air. Luckily, the bullet had missed your Ikran but had shot straight through the side of your stomach, leaving a nasty wound that was drowning in blood. Neteyam only saw you in this moment. His heart was breaking with every second that passed, a second closer to potentially losing his mate.

Neteyam felt like every movement he made was a million times slower then normal. He couldn't get to you fast enough. When he did, he pried you away from your Ikran. Silently thanking her for staying calm and keeping you steady in the air. He applied as much pressure as he could to the wound but it was impossible to stop or even slow the bleeding as the bullet gone straight through your flesh.

Adrenaline was all Neteyam was running on. With a bloody, shaking hand he called to his father through his neck piece. "Father, Y/n's been hit! We're falling back! It's bad." He didn't waste another second, taking to full flight before he could finish his words.

You were drifting uneasily in and out of consciousness. The world was spinning around you. "Stay with me, my love. Don't go to sleep. We're almost there. Grandmother will fix you right up, okay." He was convincing only himself.

The fly there was excruciating. Every second that ticked you were losing more blood and becoming weaker. Neteyam had to bite the inside of his cheek raw ro keep the tears from falling. He needed to be strong for you. He landed swiftly, carrying you bridal style as he practically ran to his Grandmother's tent. He looked down to see you close your eyes. "No, no, no my tìyawn (love), open those pretty eyes for me. Stay awake, we're here." He begged you. You forced your eyes open but it was exhausting

Your sense of hearing was coming and going and you could only make out a few words of Neteyam and Mo'ats intense conversation. Neteyam laid you flat on the woven mat of his Grandmother's floor and kept pressure on your wound until his Grandmother shooed his hands away.

Neteyam watched intently as his Grandmother worked away. "Neteyam." You cooed up at your boyfriend as the pain started to set in. Neteyam stroked your hair and held your hand tightly. "I'm here my tìyawn (love). Don't worry. You're almost done." He brought your weak hand up to his lips and kissed it gently and held it close to his face.

"Neteyam it hurts." You cried, letting hot painful tears spill down your face. Neteyam's heart was throbbing to see you like this. The guilt settling like stones in his heart. This was his fault and he couldn't help you. All he could do was soothe you and keep you as calm as possible.

Mo'at sympathised with you, seeing the true love between her Grandbaby and his mate. "It will, my child. I'm afraid I can only do so much." She patted your shoulder respectfully as she finished.

Neteyam felt a huge relief as his Grandmother left the room. You were alive. Ultimately that was all that mattered. Neteyam finally broke down. His silent tears dripped onto his legs as he was still sitting besides your weak, bandaged body.

"Oh no, my Teyam." You slurred. You attempted to pull yourself up to give him a hug but he put a soft hand onto your chest forcing you down again. "Rest, Y/n. I'm fine. I'm just so sorry, my yawne (beloved). This is all my fault. I should have protected you." He hung his head, not wanting to look at you in such a state.

"Neteyam. I'm alive. There is no need apologise darling. Its my job as your mate to protect you like you've done for me. I'd take a million bullets for you, Neteyam." Your energy was fading by the second.

Neteyam sighed, "Sleep, little one. I'll be here when you wake up."

You drifted off to a peaceful, dreamless sleep knowing your boyfriend was by your side. Safe to say, Neteyam's protectiveness only grew from this event.

[pianokantzart]

Shout out to @multicolour-ink​ and @chloecherrysip​ for use of their gifs: X X

First of all, I’d like to point out how ecstatic Luigi gets the moment they get their first call. I know that some suspect that Mario dragged Luigi into the plumbing business (i.e. that “you’re bringing your brother down with you” line from their dad), but it seems to me that this is fully both Mario and Luigi’s dream.

Look at him! He is shaking with joy. He absolutely can not contain himself. He throws his recently-cracked phone in order to grab his brother by the shoulders and shake him before excitedly pulling him into a hug. His heart is all in on this company.

With their first job on the horizon Mario and Luigi race out of the restaurant, climb into their van, and start the engine. Unfortunately, it looks like the money that might have gone into keeping their vehicle in working condition went into that TV commercial. The van sputters for a moment before the engine dies completely.

One thing I noticed is that when they get in the van Luigi has his seatbelt on, while Mario doesn’t. Mario is too focused on his goal to remember the details, while Luigi continuously has safety on the mind. Makes me wonder how many times Luigi has had to remind his brother to buckle up halfway down the road.

Mario tries a second time to get the engine to start to no avail. Luigi begins to panic, fidgeting nervously in his seat. “Oh no, we’re gonna be late.”

“No we are not!” Mario picks up the bag of tools and shoves them into Luigi’s arms before opening his door and bolting out. “C’mon, let’s go!”

“Hey! Wait up!” Luigi races after his brother, who forges on full speed ahead. Mario leaps over and dives through every obstacle in his way with little regard for anything other than his destination, but while his eyes remain on the road ahead he calls back to his brother, making sure he’s keeping up and knows which way to go: “This way!” “C’mon Lu, step on it!”

Luigi has trouble right off the bat. Rounding a corner he almost bumps into a business man crossing the street, and is so distracted by the near miss that he crashes into the garbage can Mario recently leapfrogged over, disturbing the cat rummaging around inside. Luigi’s successive collision draws the cat’s attention, and just his luck the kitty takes one look at him and decides he’s gotta die. (Jeeze, what is it with Luigi and animals? They must get stressed out by his anxiety or something.)

Luigi continues to run into every possible obstacle while struggling to get the angry cat off his head, but Lordy he’s trying his best.

He accidentally knocks groceries out of a woman’s arms... but an interesting detail is that he manages to catch the grocery bag mid-air. Luigi’s clumsy and unlucky, but at the same time he’s got some decent reflexes.

Of course, catching the bag doesn’t stop its contents from spilling out onto the sidewalk. He tries to do the gentlemanly thing and pick them up– but being still in crisis he gets his wires crossed. He haphazardly shoves half the apples back into the bag, throws the malicious furball in for good measure, and hands it off to the nearest person with a friendly little “here ya’ go!” before running off.

Luigi finally catches up with Mario when he encounters an obstacle big enough to give him pause: a construction site that closed off the entire road. But Mario steels himself, regathers his determination, and barrels ahead once more before Luigi can catch his breath.

“Oh Mario, what are ya’ doin’!?” Luigi sounds desperate, practically pleading with his brother to hold his horses, but he follows nonetheless, and this time– given the more dangerous terrain– Mario is making sure things are a little easier for him. Mario opens the gates for Luigi, brings down a ladder, throws a wooden plank over a gap... little things to help him get through.

(Side note: I like how in this gif ⬆️ Luigi pauses a bit, trying to figure out whether or not he should apologize to the construction worker on his brother’s behalf before he just continues ahead out of fear of getting left behind.)

 But at the same time, there are obstacles that Mario is able to avoid that Luigi can’t help but stumble into. While Mario swings along chains and runs across metal beams overhead, Luigi once again fumbles his way into everything and everyone. Again, he’s trying his best to be polite all the while, apologizing to the victims of his clumsiness and gently tiptoeing through the recently-laid wet cement in an attempt to minimize the damage.

Finally they reach the end, and Mario is still calling after his brother. “C’mon Luigi, pump those legs!”

Luigi stumbles on, visibly panting. As he exits the construction site he attempts one last little formality on the way out by closing the gate behind him. “I’m trying... I’m trying! I’ve got bad knees!”

Conclusion:

When Mario is fixated on a goal he becomes reckless, so wrapped up in what he wants to do and where he wants to go that everything else falls to the wayside... except his brother. Despite his determination there is definitely a care and concern for Luigi all throughout, especially when the road gets rocky. At the same time, Mario doesn’t seem to quite see everything his brother goes through. I’m not talking about the “bad knees” line (that’s it’s own separate debate), I’m just talking about the usual bad luck Luigi encounters merely trying to run down a sidewalk. Though Mario has seen enough to be protective of his brother, he doesn’t handle Luigi with kid gloves. In fact, he holds him to almost the same standard he does himself, and I think Luigi appreciates that despite everything. When all is said and done they did make it to their destination on time... it just wasn’t the route that Lu would’ve chosen willingly.

[its-the-pilot]

Where My Christmas Lives | One-Shot

Merry Christmas everyone! Sorry I'm a little late with this one, but here's my entry for "Snowman" in @sailor-aviator's Christmas Writing Challenge!😘

Summary: You and Bradley go to Lake Tahoe to stay with the Kazanskys for Christmas. (Mav's niece!reader)

Warnings: mild teen sexuality

Length: 1.6k words

Pairing: teen!Bradley Bradshaw x teen!Female Reader

| Waves Masterlist | Masterlist |

Message or comment to join the taglist!

Where My Christmas Lives

“Your mom really thought of everything. I can’t believe she planned this trip for us a year ago,” you smiled, resting your head on Bradley’s shoulder as you watched the snow fall outside the taxi on your way to the Kazansky’s cabin in Lake Tahoe a few days before Christmas.

Bradley squeezed your hand and kissed the top of your head. “Mom always liked a white Christmas,” he mused, looking out the window as the car came to a stop. As you gathered your things and climbed out, Iceman exited the cabin to settle the fare with the driver. 

“Come on inside, it’s cold out here,” Ice offered, helping Bradley carry your bags into the cabin. Once inside, he hugged you tightly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Let me get a look at you two,” he said, turning to shake Bradley’s hand. “Every time I see you, I see more of Goose. You’re just missing that ridiculous mustache he always wore.”

“I don’t think I can pull off that look.” Bradley laughed, returning the firm handshake.

“Never can tell,” he said knowingly, motioning toward the living room. “Go make yourselves comfortable, I’ll take your bags upstairs.”

Bradley dropped onto the couch with a sigh as Ice disappeared up the staircase, leaving the two of you alone in the living room. “Come sit with me,” he mumbled, eyes sliding closed as he patted his thigh and held a hand out for you. 

You had wandered across the room, looking at various pictures and decorations around the cabin when Bradley's voice met your ears. Taking a few steps back toward him, you accepted his outstretched hand and let him pull you onto his lap, his strong arms encircling you. “Tired?” You asked, reaching one of your hands up to card through his hair gently, your nails brushing against his scalp. 

He nodded, relaxing under your touch. There was a long moment of quiet before he spoke, his voice low. “Is it wrong I'm glad we're here instead of home for Christmas?”

Shaking your head, you frowned only briefly. “Mama Carole knew, I think. That's why she planned this,” you explained, resting your head on his shoulder. “I'm glad we're here too. And hopefully Uncle Pete makes it.”

Iceman smiled at the young couple as he came back downstairs, heavy footsteps making his presence known so he didn't startle them. “Sarah and the kids will be back from the store soon, so enjoy the peace and quiet while you can,” he warned, crossing through the room toward the kitchen. “Planned on making steaks and potatoes for dinner, take advantage before it starts snowing again.”

“Sounds great,” Bradley replied, finally opening his eyes and looking up at the Captain you both thought of as a surrogate uncle. “Need any help?” 

“You two relax, you're our guests. If you wanna do something, help entertain the kids. They're a handful.”

You nodded but didn't have a chance to reply before the front door opened and two small children came barrelling into the living room, calling your names. Dropping a kiss to Bradley's cheek, you managed to slide off his lap just in time for the kids to jump on both of you. 

“Hey guys! You got so big!” You smiled, hugging Ice’s four-year-old daughter Katie tightly. The last time you had seen them was over a year earlier at Ice’s promotion to Captain, before Carole was diagnosed. 

The kids switched places after a moment, scrambling over you and Bradley like a jungle gym. Jack, the six-year old boy, bounced on the couch excitedly and tugged on your hand. “Can we build a snowman? Daddy said you’d help!”

You shared a look with Bradley, seeing the smirk that pulled at the corner of his mouth as you silently asked him to join you. “We’d love to,” he replied, lifting Katie into his arms as he stood from his seat. 

Jack jumped down and ran to the back door, you and Bradley close behind him. Once you were outside, he set Katie down and let the kids get started on the snowman as he passed you his gloves.

“I’ll be okay,” you promised, only to have him slide them onto your hands one at a time. “Bradley…”

“Your fingers will freeze off,” he argued, giving you a quick peck on the lips before nudging you toward the stairs. “Go on, I’ll be right there.” He chuckled at the roll of the eyes you gave him before stepping off the deck, looking back over his shoulder when he heard Ice step out of the cabin. “Hey, I was hoping to talk to you for a minute.”

The older man nodded as he started up the grill, a plate of steaks and potatoes sitting on the table beside him. “Sure, what’s up, kid?”

Bradley pushed his hands into his pockets and moved closer. “I need a letter of recommendation for the Naval Academy, and I…” he hesitated briefly before continuing. “I was hoping you’d write one for me.”

“Why not ask Maverick?” he asked, curious as to the answer. He had a feeling that he knew, given the discussions he had with you over the past few months regarding the tension between Maverick and Bradley, but he wanted to hear the teen’s explanation. 

“He doesn’t want me to join up. My mom wasn’t thrilled about it either,” Bradley sighed, shaking his head. “But it’s my life, and I wanna fly, like you, Mav and my dad.”

Ice nodded and looked out to the yard where you and his children were working on your snowman. “Does she know?”

“She knows I’m applying, yeah. We haven’t really talked about flying yet though,” he explained, his eyes moving to watch you as well. “I don’t know how she’d take it, she worries like crazy over Mav.”

“Would it stop you? If she said she didn’t want you to?” Ice asked, putting the food on the grill before leaning against the railing of the deck and studying him closely.

Bradley was quiet for a moment as he considered the question. He hadn’t thought about it before, what he would do if your reaction to his wanting to be an aviator was not what he wanted to hear. “I don’t know. Probably not. We’d just… have to work it out.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Ice sighed and gave him a look. “I’ll write you the letter, Bradley, but you need to have a conversation,” he said firmly. “I can see the way you look at her. Your mom saw it too, long before it was real.”

“She did?” He asked, pulling his eyes away from you and looking back to Iceman. 

He nodded, clapping the younger man on the shoulder as he returned his attention to the grill. “She was always saying you two would end up together.” He flipped the steaks over and turned back to Bradley. “It’s not fair to either of you to assume she’s on board with whatever you wanna do with your future. You have to take each other into consideration. Got it?”

“Got it,” Bradley nodded, moving toward the stairs to join you and the kids building the snowman. “Thanks, Ice.”

Iceman waved him off, continuing to grill while watching the four of you finish the snowman in the middle of the yard. It was a little lopsided, but his kids cheered when Bradley lifted the head on top and put his baseball cap on it, finding a couple of dark colored rocks to work as eyes. 

After dinner you helped Sarah put the kids to bed while Ice and Bradley cleaned up the kitchen. When all the chores were done, you found your boyfriend sitting on the back deck beside the fire pit as a light snow fell around him. Grabbing a blanket, you stepped out and sat beside him, wrapping it around both of you.

“Penny for your thoughts?” You asked quietly, nuzzling his cheek with your nose.

He looked over to you, offering a small smile. “Hey, Dimples. I was just thinking about you.”

“Oh? Good things, I hope.”

“Always,” he said, kissing your temple. There was silence for a moment before he spoke again. “We need to talk, though.”

You frowned, the tone of his voice sparking a bit of anxiety. “Okay… is everything alright?”

He took your hand beneath the blanket and laced your fingers together. “I’ve told you I want to go to the Naval Academy after I graduate. I talked with Ice earlier about writing a letter of recommendation for me.” You responded with a simple nod, allowing him to continue uninterrupted. “I want to be an aviator. I know you get anxious about Maverick flying, so I just…”

Before he could finish, you cut him off with a soft kiss, your free hand lifting to rest on his jaw. “I support you, no matter what,” you whispered, looking into his eyes. “I can go to the University of Maryland and we can visit when you get leave. We’ll make it work, Bradley.”

“Really?” He asked, resting his forehead against yours. “What about you? Being with a Navy man isn’t easy, I don’t want you giving your dreams up for me.”

You shook your head, closing your eyes and kissing him again, long and slow. When you finally parted, you squeezed his hand, offering a smile. “You’ll be in the Academy for four years, I’ll have time to go to school myself, don’t worry,” you explained. “Bradley… as long as I have you, and we’re happy, that’s enough for me.”

“You’re incredible, you know that?” he smiled, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

“I’m really quite something,” you teased, kissing him once again before standing and offering your hand to him. “C’mon, let’s get some sleep, the kids already have plans for us tomorrow.”

Bradley accepted your hand after turning the gas on the fire pit off, letting the flames die down. Standing, he wrapped his arms around you and kissed your neck. “Sounds great. I’m glad we came out here this year.”

[writingwarden]

can i request some keegan x fem!reader where she gets herself hurt trying to protect him and keegan gets all overprotective and worried over her 🙏🙏

[A/N]- Hi yeah sorry this took so long! Writers block is hitting me hard lmao. Sorry if formatting is weird, posting from mobile!

Keegan x Fem!Reader

TW- Minor character death, being shot, blood, Canon typical violence

Word Count- 1.6k

Callsign- RED

The forest is alive around you as you lay prone, looking through the binoculars onto the Federation camp. Around fifty federation soldiers mill around the camp, unsuspecting of the threats in the cliffs above where your team layed. Watching; waiting for the signal to descend onto the crowd.

Keegan shuffles from where he sat crouched next to you, “Well, Red?” He questions.

You don't look away when you answer, “Next patrol should be passing in the next five minutes.”

You, Keegan, and a few selected soldiers were there to scout the guard rotations and then enter the camp, shoot any federation, and retrieve data from the commander's tent. In and out. Keegan was there to ensure the mission was completed and watch your back.

If you didn't know better, Elias had shot you a wink when he announced the mission. He always paired you two together on missions, something about both being sneaky. Nevermind the fact you and Keegan had been secretly dating for months now.

Handing the binoculars over to Keegan, you crawl backwards, waiting till you were concealed by the bushes to stand up on your knees. Looking around at the soldiers around you, nodding at them.

A whistle sounds from where you just were, it's time.

Climbing back to the edge of the cliff where you had perched, you ready your rifle. It would start after everyone got into position. A voice crackles through the comms in your ear, “Kick this off, Red.”

Taking a deep breath as you aim, the recoil causes the gun to bump back into your shoulder as the first guard falls. The others don't have time to react as the rest of the team moves in. Body by body, the Federation soldiers fall, the team spreading out like discussed.

Using your scope you follow each teammate until you can no longer see any one of them. It was your turn to enter the fray. Slinging the rifle over your shoulder, you begin the slide down the cliff side. The landing shocks your knees enough to pop them but you keep moving.

It was up to you now to reach the main tent where Keegan would be waiting with the Federation Commander in custody. Bringing a hand up to your radio, you announce your entry into the camp to the rest of the team. Holding your rifle up as you reach the edge of the camp. Ready to fire on any enemy that crosses your path.

Gunfire rings out in the distance as the Federation soldiers try to fight back, the echoes of the others ringing through the channel as they push further into the camp.

Moving from crate to crate, dispatching any poor souls you come across. The latest one falling out of the tent they attempted to shoot you from.

Rounding a stack of crates, the sight in front of you makes your blood turn cold. Keegan held at gunpoint by the commander you were sent to eliminate, another soldier standing behind him, gun trained on him. Shit!

Aiming quickly, the soldier drops with a single bullet through his throat. Turning to the commander you were too slow, his barrel already pointed at you. The small and bright burst of a bullet exiting the weapon in your direction.

The world pauses, ears ringing as heat spreads through your stomach. Surroundings in slow motion as Keegan begins to scream and lunges at the commander. Looking down at your body, the blood spreads across the fabric of your shirt, your hand covered in your own blood. Ringing in your ears as you stumble to your knees, desperately but poorly attempting to aim your gun at the enemy.

Through unfocused eyes you see Keegan snap the guard's neck and tackle the commander, retching the gun from his hand and firing, the body landing with a solid thunk against the muddy ground, hole blasted through the skull.

There were unfamiliar voices shouting, getting closer, the gun falling from your hand onto the ground next to you.

Keegan whips his head around to face you, taking in the sight that you are. It was almost cartoonish the way he scrambles over to your kneeling form. His hands are on you, lifting you shakily, just enough to prop you halfway up against the crate a few feet behind you.

“Shit, Red!” Keegan yells, panic lacing his words as he crouches over you pressing his hands to the wound, trying to keep the blood in. The heat turns into hellfire as you lay writhing against the crate, his touch causing shooting streaks of electricity to shoot through your heart.

Weakly you try and push his hands away, but instead he takes them under his own and uses them to put pressure on the wound. It's then that one of his hands leaves, reaching up to his radio. The words that fall from his lips are muffled by the ringing and blood rushing through your ears. You can make out the vague demand that the others regroup at the main tent, the one you lay outside of.

You can feel your body slipping further down. When did it get so cold out? Keegan notices your rapidly slipping consciousness and places a hand under your chin, shaking your head. It jostles your eyes open enough to watch a federation soldier round the corner behind Keegan.

“Behind-” your voice comes out in a harsh rasp. Painful coughs follow the word like a punishment.

Keegan grabs the pistol holstered on your side, turns around and fires rapid shots. Another body falls.

Everything in your mind screamed at you to stay awake, or maybe that was Keegan desperately trying to keep you lucid. A fretting look over his features, eyes were frantic, mask moving around like he was talking.

Sleep had never sounded like such a good idea until now. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to rest your eyes for a minute? Eyelids fluttering shut, the last sight you saw was the hand of your teammates gripping Keegan’s shoulder. The last thing you felt before the dark welcomed you was being lifted off the muddy ground.

…

The smell of hospital antiseptic sharply fills your nose, the bright white lighting causing you to scrunch your eyes close again. The beeping of various vital monitors mix with the soft snores coming from your left. Turning your head towards the sound and opening your eyes, your breathing stutters at the sight in front of you.

Keegan sat in the chair next to the bed, head leaning against his shoulder as he slept. His arms crossed over his chest, breathing shallow. The watch on his wrist read 9:23, how long had you been out? Your eyes roam over his sleeping face, taking in the dark crescents under his eyes. He looked worse for wear, but you suppose that comes with the job.

Lifting the thin hospital blanket reveals bandages wrapped around your abdomen. The area around the gunshot wound is completely numb, not that you're complaining. They probably had you on all sorts of fun painkillers.

Setting the blanket back down and looking at the bedside table, you see a water bottle. Shakily you reach for it but your hand barely grazes it, causing it to fall over and roll off the surface. It lands on the floor with a dull thud as a frustrated noise leaves your throat.

This causes the man next to you to stir, blue eyes slowly flickering open. Those beautiful blue eyes widen in surprise at your awake state. Sheepishly you smile and point to the fallen object.

“Clumsy.” He says as he bends down to pick the water bottle off the floor. You expected him to just hand it back to you but instead he twists the cap off and holds it up in front of your face.

Wordlessly you let him help you drink. When you had enough he moves the bottle back to the table, this time within your reach.

“So,” you begin, ignoring the horrible way your voice cracks, “How long was I out?”

He looks down at his watch then back to you, “You got out of surgery around five hours ago, so twelve hours. Honestly surprised you woke up this early.”

Twelve hours? A myriad of questions fly through your thoughts but you settle on the first one. “Did you get the Intel we needed?” Business was always first to you no matter the situation.

An amused look crosses his face at your question. “Yeah, I got it before he caught me. Everyone else is fine, minor injuries but they'll live. You on the other hand?” He runs a hand through his hair, “You were touch and go for a while. It's honestly a damn miracle that the bullet only managed to graze your stomach.”

He rolls his eyes before looking down at your body, “Are you comfortable? I can go get the nurse. Are you cold?” He begins to stand.

Grabbing his hand prevents him from leaving. He slides back into the chair as you bring his hand up to your face, kissing each knuckle. Worry is replaced with softness and a sigh.

You nod your head as a small silence fills the air between you two.

“You didn't need to do that.”

You frown and shoot a questioning look at him.

“Thanks anyway. But if you get hurt again I'll throttle you.” He had a serious look, brows furrowed. He stretches his arms above his head before continuing, “Love, if you would have died I would have never forgiven you, probably would've dragged you back to the land of the living myself just to smack you.”

Before you could retort he leans over you and places a quick kiss on your lips. Any protests you had died on your tongue, a grin replacing the frown as he pulled away. “No promises.”

[A/N]- edit to fix tags

[yukimiyaz]

ok ok :( what about like kurona who just really likes it when you play with his hair, he’ll even let you do his tiny littol braid or put clips in his hair cause he likes how it feels

kurona likes to think of himself as a relatively observant man. one who finds things easy to catch on to and willing to cultivate around. one who is knowing, about things that matter, at the very least.

so it hits him rather harshly when you make him discover things about himself that he somehow didn't know before.

he has always been fond of affection—especially yours—and that is nothing new. how your hand grazes along his shoulder when you walk behind the couch. how you have a habit of tracing tiny hearts or sentiments you think he can't decipher onto the back of his hand when you're bored. how you slump into him after a long day and nuzzle underneath his jaw, press kisses there as you mumble about your dreaded hardships.

but his world tilts a little when your fingers snake their way north of his neck.

he's had people mess with his hair before; tug at his braid or poke at his spikes to see if they're as stiff as they look. but there's something different about how you go about it. something... winsome.

the first time it happened was when he came home one night after an away match. it was late, you were already in bed, he knew this. so he was quiet as he slinked in. dropping his duffel and discarding his outer clothes in favor of climbing into bed next to your sleeping form. you looked so peaceful he didn't want to startle you, he could say a proper hello in the morning, after all. so he simply slipped underneath the covers, craned over to press a longing kiss to your shoulder, and rested his head there for just a moment.

a second later is when he felt it. the pressure of your hand to the back of his head, your fingers sifting through the (probably a little grimy, honestly) tufts. your nails skimmed across the tightness of his scalp and kurona is damn near positive that he melted so heavily into you he fused with your own skin.

the serenity it brought him, the peace that flooded his chest—the endearment that swallowed him whole—was enough to send him barrel rolling off the deep end of unknown pleasures within himself. and he could no longer get enough.

which seems to ring true even now, as he lays across the couch with his head in your lap as you ramble about your day.

"and then—get this," you scoff, fingers scritching at the hair by his temples, weaving their way back until you're nearly lifting his head to skim the base of his skull. he loves this, truly. "he blamed me for not having my name on it. as if that means my lunch in the workroom fridge is fair game. can you believe it?"

"no," he obliges; the answer he thinks that you're looking for. truthfully, he's been half zoned out, reveling in your touch and letting his eyelids grow heavier and heavier. "what a jerk move."

"right?!" and suddenly your hands are retracting, making kurona's heavy lids shoot a little more alert with the fear your touch will be leaving him. but you simply shift, skim past the left side of his face to grasp the sliver of hair he usually plaits. he relaxes once again. "so i told him the next time he takes my lunch, i'll shove my fist so far down his throat that..."

you're still talking, he is aware, but he isn't really listening. so unlike him, in all honestly, but he doesn't think he can be to blame. your finger is twirling around his hair now, combing through the lock and twisting it as you please. he wonders if you'll try a different braid tonight, like the fishtail one you showed him the other day and propositioned with gleaming eyes. he thinks he'd let you. he thinks he'd let you do anything if it meant your fingers were still entangled in his faded pink strands.

he's continuing his contemplation when your hands come to a stop; a pause ceasing their mindless fiddling. he blinks up at you, zones back in, and he realizes your mouth is no longer moving, but is now cinched in a bit of a pout.

"hey, don't tell me i'm putting you to sleep," you gripe, though he notices there really is no bite. not one he can detect at the very least, "were you even listening to me?"

"yes," he replies instantly, nodding his head in your lap, "keep going."

and he halfway expects you to (you often times do, when you're riled up like this) but instead you ask him the one question he was hoping you wouldn't. "oh yeah? what was i saying then?"

your boyfriend blinks up at you. a pair of them, then thrice. you know good and well he wasn't listening, you just want him to admit it. after a sliver too long of silence, you tug on the strand of hair you still have wrapped around your fingers and he sucks air through his teeth.

"ah," he hums, narrows his eyes up at you ever so slightly, "that isn't playing. or fair."

you tug his braid again, but this time you retract your hands after. testing your hypothesis, proving your thesis right. kurona's head is raising up a second later and his shoulders are shifting enough to turn and face you. his warm palm finds your wrist and wraps around it, pulling your hand back to him—to his hair.

"okay, i wasn't listening," he admits, fully, "but i promise i will if you don't stop doing that. repeat yourself just this once, please."

his eyes are so pleading, so begging, that part of you thinks he might have been your devoted worshipper in a past life; kneeling before you for the mere honor of laying his head into your lap. you smile at the thought, and at him, and you indulge him—if only to watch his slit pupils expand.

"mkay," you adhere, and try not to let your smile appear too shit eating as you begin to separate the strands for his braid. "if you say so."

kurona melts into your touch once more, but this time he stays attentive. he likes to think of himself as a well observant man, but sometimes outliers tend to send his reception askew.

but as long as your fingers always find their way back to the weaves of his scalp, he thinks he's okay with being off beat every once in a while.

[bumblesimagines]

Under The Moonlight

Part 6

Request: Yes or No

~~~

"Where were you?"

"Exploring." (Y/N) answered, picking up the barrel and handing it off to his brother. Leif stared at him with an arched brow, taking the barrel into his arms and setting it down on their ship. Liv stood near them, gazing down into the water absentmindedly. She had made a quick recovery, only needing a couple of bandages and some rest before she could pick up a sword again. Her skin had regained its tan complexion and her eyes regained their light. Seeing her up and walking had been a tremendous relief to the brothers. With everything they needed onboard, (Y/N) carefully stepped down onto the ship, feeling it rock slightly at his added weight.

London's harbor had filled to the brim with boats as half of King Canute's fleet readied for departure back to their homelands across Scandinavia. But the Greenlanders would need to stop by Kattegat for Freydis and the others. Then, it'd hopefully be smooth sailing back home to their families.

"Exploring? The castle? All night?" With each word, Leif's brows rose higher and higher. (Y/N) looked away from his brother and out toward the horizon with pursed lips. He felt like a child again. It'd been ages since Leif last scolded him. "It isn't like you to lie to me."

"What do you want me to say, Leif?"

"The truth. If you were with..." Leif trailed off, eyes flickering over to Harald and back to his brother. The prince stood in front of King Canute as they exchanged words. Once, Harald would've appeared carefree and pleased to be in the king's presence. But now he looked miffed and bitter, the taste of betrayal still on his tongue. Harald wore his typical black leather and dark tunic attire with two-skinned coyotes stitched to his long black cloak and tied together by a small bronze chain that kept the cloak from slipping off his shoulders. He no longer looked like any other Viking waltzing up and down the dock. He looked like a prince. He was a prince. (Y/N) needed to remember that. Even when the bear tooth hung snugly around Harald's neck.

"Just tell me."

"It's not like that." (Y/N) murmured, tearing his eyes away from Harald and distracting himself by adjusting one of the ropes keeping the sail tied to the mast.

"Are you certain?" And people said his brother was a man of little words.

"Safe journey, Greenlanders!" King Canute suddenly called out to them, drawing their attention away from each other and onto him. The two brothers forced awkward smiles for him, offering nods of acknowledgment before looking at each other again. Harald's brows furrowed slightly at the sight, gaze lingering on them.

"What are you two whispering about?" Liv asked, using the side of the boat to push herself up. Leif- almost instinctively- wrapped an arm around her waist to ensure her balance, causing a flustered smile to appear on Liv's face. 

"Don't tell me you-"

"Nothing, Liv. Just the weather." Leif answered, hand rising to delicately stroke the back of her head and giving his brother a squinted-eyed look. (Y/N) grinned back at him. Liv slowly nodded at his answer and sat back down as Harald stepped onboard and bid his goodbye to Canute. Leif took his spot behind the steering oar and (Y/N) sat beside him, watching Vikings finish getting their belongings packed away. Harald made his way down the ship, fingers twitching and brushing against (Y/N)'s arm when he brushed past and he sat behind him. (Y/N) took in a deep breath and looked out at the ocean again.

                    ➸        ➸       ➸       ➸       ➸       ➸

The closer Kattegat's harbor grew, the faster his heart pounded against his chest. His fingers drummed anxiously against the side of the ship, watching people swarm to the docks to greet their family and friends. He waited impatiently as the boat docked, staring down the dock until the boat had been secured. Climbing out, he paused and waited, hearing Liv's soft sigh of exhaustion as Leif helped her off the boat. Then, He heard it. He heard her.

"Leif! (Y/N)!" Freydis raced through the crowd, her long blonde braid whipping back with the wind as she brushed past people. Her pace quickened upon spotting her brothers and she barreled into the arms of (Y/N), feet leaving the ground when he wrapped his arms around her tightly and spun her around. Laughter escaped her freely. "You're alive!"

"And you are too." (Y/N) laughed as well, feeling his heart swell tenfolds. Gently setting Freydis back down on her feet, she smiled and kissed his cheek before eagerly wrapping her arms around Leif and Liv, thrilled giggles falling from her lips.

"What is this?" Liv asked when they pulled apart, looking over Freydis' attire. It was then he noticed what exactly she wore. Freydis had ditched her typical dark tunics and coats for brown leather, a light blue tunic underneath, and shoulder plates. Her black boots were covered in a mixture of damp sand and when he looked closer, so were the back of her pants, almost as if she had fallen while on the beach. (Y/N) blinked. Her clothes looked strikingly similar to what the defenders of Kattegat wore, he realized. Had Jarl Haakon offered Freydis a place amongst her shieldmaidens?

"I have much to tell you." Freydis breathed and leaned back, turning her head side to side in search of the others. When she couldn't find them along the Vikings unloading and heading down the dock, she looked back at them, her wide smile beginning to crumble. "Skarde? Njal?"

"And Ulf," Liv whispered, inhaling sharply and turning her gaze downcast. 

"Then..." Freydis pressed her trembling lips together, her blue eyes overflowing with tears. "Toke and Yrsa are not alone in Valhalla." She revealed softly, voice nearly cracking.

(Y/N) felt as if someone had punched him right in the chest, knocking all the air out of his lungs and squeezing his heart. His friends... The ones who had stepped up and promised to help them on their journey for justice... dead. Every single one of them. Liv stared at her wide-eyed, eyes flickering between Freydis's in hopes of finding a cruel joke. Her lip began quivering and she shook her head, sobs escaping her and shoulders shaking. (Y/N) squeezed his eyes shut. He'd grown so tired of crying, so tired of mourning that the tears had dried after the deaths of Njal and Skarde. He only stepped forward and wrapped an arm around his sister, dropping his head onto her shoulder as Leif and Liv stepped in as well, arms wrapping around each other and Freydis. The group of Greenlanders had watered down to just four. Four survivors. Four people who'd have to relay the news to different families back home. They'd have to hold sobbing mothers and spouses and explain to the children why their fathers wouldn't be returning.

"It's just us now." Liv sniffled, leaning back and gazing up at Freydis, hand gently rubbing her back. 

"Come," Freydis sighed, wiping her tears away and slipping her arm around Liv's shoulders. She looked up at her brothers and smiled sadly at them, nodding back toward the town. "You must be tired from your journey."

"I want to go home, Leif." (Y/N) mumbled, watching the girls head down the dock. 

"I know, (Y/N). I know." Leif tried offering him a reassuring smile through his exhaustion. "But we must rest." He reminded, motioning after the girls and beginning to follow them. (Y/N) sighed and trailed after his brother, eyes drifting away from Leif's back and meeting Harald's pitying ones. (Y/N) broke eye contact first and quickened his pace, even as Harald stared holes into the back of his head. 

Freydis took them to the market, the smell of freshly baked bread and cooking meat wafting through the air. (Y/N)'s mouth watered at the thought of a warm meal, collapsing at an empty table and smiling sweetly at his sister when she swiftly retrieved bowls of food for them to eat. Setting them down in front of her friends and getting some water for them, Freydis plopped down across from them and began recounting how she had spent the last couple of months. "Jarl Haakon sent us to Uppsala."

"To Uppsala?" Liv gasped in awe, breaking apart a fresh piece of bread and popping the smaller slice into her mouth. "Is it like the stories we heard growing up?"

Smiling widely, Freydis rested her arms on the table, her gaze turning distant. "It's even better... Temples as high as the sky with golden rooftops, and hundreds of the faithful." Her smile fell slightly. "But it is threatened by Christians."

"So this is your new mission?" Leif asked softly, rolling his wooden spoon between his fingers. (Y/N) drank the broth of his soup, having finished eating so fast his mother would've wacked him with a rag and scolded him. Wiping his chin with the back of his hand, his brows furrowed as Freydis nodded, her fingers toying with the ends of her shirt.

"What I have seen has changed me. I cannot leave Kattegat now, and I hope you will stay too?" Freydis glanced between the three of them hopefully. (Y/N) felt his stomach drop, fingers squeezing around the bowl in his hands. Leif swallowed and turned to look at his younger brother, placing his hand on his shoulder and affectionately rubbing it. 

"Perhaps we could stay a little longer. Make sure Freydis settles in well and then we can depart for Greenland?" Leif proposed, gaze softening. Between his siblings pleading looks, (Y/N) could only begrudgingly nod, putting aside his longing for home. "Besides..." Leif's eyes flickered to someone past him. "I don't think Harald would let you leave so quickly." 

"Harald?" Freydis repeated with furrowed brows and (Y/N) peered over his shoulder at the prince. Harald had ditched his cloak and changed into lighter clothes better suited to Kattegat's chilly yet ever-changing weather. Inhaling deeply, (Y/N) let the bowl drop lightly on the table and stood up, hearing his sister whisper questions to a chuckling Leif. 

"I see your sister is a warrior now," Harald noted, a smile spreading on his face. "I will congratulate her later. For now, I wish to know why you've been ignoring me."

"Yrsa and Toke were killed, Harald. By a Christian Jarl named Kåre. Friend of yours?"

"No, he's not." Harald's smile turned into a frown. "He's a zealot and many of us consider him deranged."

"But you know him."

"I know of him. (Y/N), please, I do not wish to argue with you today." Harald sighed and shut his eyes, nose crinkling slightly. "Why don't we take a walk-"

"Harald, I want you to forget about what happened. I do not want you trailing after me like a child at every turn. You're the Prince of Norway, I am a hunter from Greenland. I am... far below your station. Find someone else to bother and keep your bed warm, but I do not need to risk my safety for a man, much less a Christian." (Y/N)'s words came out much nastier than intended. It became apparent by the way Harald nearly flinched at his words, a hurt look passing over his features. (Y/N) turned his back to him and returned to the table, avoiding the questioning gazes as he took some bread. Harald stared at him, and then he scoffed and turned away, stalking back into the depths of the town.

When night fell, Jarl Haakon opened the Great Hall doors to the fleet of Vikings for a feast congratulating them on their victory and safe return. (Y/N) had found himself sitting beside a pretty redhead, although he couldn't recall if her name was Ingrid or Isgerd. She wore a long flowy green dress with white designs stitched on the cuffs and collarbone. Her wavy hair had been tied back by multiple braids with a couple of strands falling over her face that she occasionally brushed away when speaking. Talking with her was easy, for the most part. His attention would automatically drift away from her when he would feel someone staring at him, even if he knew it was Harald watching him from across the room. Liv and Leif sat together at the table beside (Y/N)'s, warily glancing at each other and whispering about the two. Leif had kept the day's attire on but Liv had changed into a long red dress and finally released her hair from its typical updo. Sitting a ways away from her brothers, Freydis chatted animatedly with a handsome young man, appearing rather interested in him as she laughed and leaned toward him curiously.

Drums began to be hit and (Y/N) turned his eyes away from Harald and onto the woman walking down between the tables, the small chimes on her red outfit clinging together with each step she took. Lifting her hands, she hollered. "Hail Prince Harald and Leif Eriksson, the heroes of London! West over water they fared to tear the English crown from the head of Æthelred!" Cheers filled the hall as Vikings lifted their cups in the air. "Or was it the head from the crown? By the man who brought London Bridge down! And this Prince of Greenland, across oceans he went, to face hundreds of men in the village of Kent!"

"Hundreds? More like thousands!" Leif called confidentially from his seat, laughing as the hall erupted in laughter and cheers.

Harald lifted his up high in the air, his bitterness and hurt gone for the moment. "Get your story right, Skalde!" He piped in playfully, a laugh rumbling in his chest.

"I think you better get up and tell it then," Skalde responded with a large smile, encouraging the hall to chant for Harald to rise. Even Leif chimed in, chanting Harald's name and slamming his fists against the table. (Y/N) felt a smile tug at his lips, fingers gently dragging along his cup as Harald gave in and stood up, stepping onto his seat and then onto the table. 

"The story I want to tell is not of me." He shouted over the chants, waiting for the hall to quiet down before continuing. "It is of a group of friends: The Greenlanders. Leif Eriksson, my friend. My brother. Captain through the storms of wind and mutiny. He settled rough waters and made the passage calm." 

"Brother." Leif raised his cup to Harald in thanks.

"And Liv-" Harald continued, grinning when Liv's head snapped in his direction with wide eyes. "-who left her blood in the river along with the bridge! This is her story." Harald stepped down from the table, gazing over the hall. Liv bowed her head bashfully at the cheers that followed, a flustered smile spreading across her face. 

"And (Y/N) Eriksson. A man who would carry the weight of the world on his shoulders if it meant helping his brother and sister. I admire his strength and kindness... and I certainly wish to never face him on the battlefield." Harald kept his voice even, listening to laughter and cheers that spread at his words. (Y/N) rubbed his thumb over the rim of his cup and met Harald's fond gaze. He didn't wish to admit the way his heart seemingly picked up when he looked into his eyes. Harald's lips spread into a small smile. 

"This is his story too. As it is Ulf's, Skarde's, and Njal's. Greenlanders who came to pay a debt for one, but stayed to help save us all. They met Syn in Odin's Great Hall, and she welcomed them into Valhalla. They are the true heroes of London. They are who we celebrate tonight! For without the Greenlanders, London Bridge would still be standing, but we would not." Harald lifted his cup once more. "The Greenlanders!"

Rising from his seat and picking up his cup, Leif raised his cup as well. "Skol!" At his words, the drums picked up and people stood to mingle and chat, sharing laughter and exchanging tales. (Y/N) excused himself from the redhead's side and made his way through the hall, feeling Harald's eyes on him as he approached the fireplace. Predictably, Harald appeared at his side in seconds.

"Thank you for what you said, Harald. You didn't have to." (Y/N) muttered and looked at the prince. Harald hummed, lifting his hands and warming them with the heat of the fire. The fire cast a golden glow on him, making his dark eyes appear a shade or two lighter. 

"Your friends deserved to have their names known. They were heroes too." Harald said, lifting his gaze to look at him, his brows gently raising and gaze softening. "And I am deeply sorry for everything and everyone you've lost." 

(Y/N) regarded the prince with a sorrowful smile. While his heart remained heavy, he knew his friends were where they were meant to be. The Gods had willed it and (Y/N) could only be thankful for the time they had spent together, even if a few of those times had been filled with arguments and petty insults. But they had remained loyal to him and his siblings through thick and thin. Sighing softly, (Y/N) tilted his head and parted his lips to speak, only for the sound of steel hitting a shield to break his thought process and draw his attention toward the center of the hall. Stepping away from Harald, he spotted one of Jarl Haakon's shieldmaidens standing protectively in front of Leif with her sword pointed directly at Arne. 

"He's no hero!" Arne seethed with bottled-up fury and hate, staring directly at Leif. "He's a Christian lover and probably a Christian himself!" Arne spat, moving wildly against the two men restraining him. Leif made no move to defend himself. Instead, he stood behind the shieldmaiden silently... Guilty. (Y/N) frowned.

"Leave before I banish you." The shieldmaiden ordered, keeping her sword trained on the blonde man, even as the other men escorted him out of the hall. (Y/N) watched them shove Arne out of the hall, their bodies blocking him from entering. After cursing them a few more times, Arne disappeared into the night.

"Come to my lodgings, (Y/N). I'll have a hot bath prepared for you." Harald whispered into his ear, the touch of his hand fleeting against (Y/N) back before he disappeared into the crowd. (Y/N) stared after him, the buzz of the feast picking back up despite the brief interruption. The music grew louder, more encouraging for people to dance and mingle. But the festivities had been enough for the Greenlander. And with some hesitance, he found himself following in Harald's direction.

Even after his unnecessarily cold words, Harald had invited him back to his room. And (Y/N) foolishly accepted. (Y/N) winced at his own inconsistency. It wasn't like him to be so... impulsive. So reckless. Harald would surely think of him as easy. (Y/N) slowed down in front of the inn, staring at the open door. The cold outside nipped at his cheeks and ears but he barely felt it. Nothing could beat Greenland's winter. Grinding his teeth and cursing himself, he stepped inside and questioned the innkeeper who provided little directions to Harald's room. 

Why was he doing this?

Why was he standing there before his door?

Why did he knock instead of leaving?

Questions that repeated over and over in his head as the heavy footsteps grew near and the door opened, warmth flooding out from the room and coaxing him inside. (Y/N) didn't look at Harald when he walked in, instead, he eyed at the tub toward the back of the room with steam rising out of it. The door creaked when it closed behind him, sending a small jolt up his body at the sound. (Y/N) knew he could easily change his mind and Harald would let him leave. But he stayed.

"You have your own tub?" (Y/N) asked, feeling his skin burn. From shame? Embarrassment? Want? He couldn't tell. Those feelings had slowly grown muddled. Growing closer to the wooden tub, his fingers danced along the rim of the tub, the warm water rather enticing after a short trek through the chilly night.

"Jarl Haakon treats her friends well," Harald said, his voice suddenly closer. His arms moved around his waist, hand pulling and tugging on strings. When his clothes grew loose, (Y/N) gently pushed Harald's hands away and slipped the rest of the clothes off, stepping into the tub and lowering down into the water. He shivered and pulled his legs toward his chest, a soft chuckle escaping him as the heat hugged his tired muscles. Harald picked up his clothes, setting them on a chair, and gingerly taking the dagger to place it on top of the clothes. 

(Y/N) pulled his hand toward his chest, palm pressing against his scar. It ran from his left shoulder down to his right hip. His attacker hadn't dragged the tip of his sword down his body to cut him open, only to torture him with the pain. The scar had faded considerably over the years but the memories remained clear and vivid. His head lifted when he heard a chair scraping along the ground. Harald set the stool down and sat on it, leaning his arms on the rim of the tub with a rag in hand. 

"Tell me about Greenland," Harald said softly, dipping the rag into the water and gently rubbing it against (Y/N)'s cheek. "What's it like living there?"

"It's cold and dry. We get a lot of snow.. so much sometimes you can barely tell it's summer or spring. But I like the snow. I like the cold. But snow and cold mean the animals that live among us are sparse and hard to capture. It's... challenging." (Y/N) sighed, skimming his hand over the surface of the water. "To survive, you have to be less of a man, less of a human. You have to become a predator. Even if it's just to catch a cunning little hare or take down an ox. And to make things harder, your neighbors aren't your only competition. You've got polar bears roamin' about and once they catch a whiff of you... They'll follow you for hours on end and because they blend in, you'll never see them coming. It's... terrifying, how such a large creature can sneak up on you. But, Gods, they're beautiful."

"Beautiful yet terrifying... Reminds me of someone." Harald cooed, dragging the rag down along (Y/N)'s jawline. Droplets ran down his neck, mixing with sweat and grime from the weeks at sea. Hooking his finger under (Y/N)'s chin, he tilted the Greenlander's head toward him and gently scrubbed the other side of his face. (Y/N)'s lips curled up. 

"Is this always how you get your peen wet?" A laugh slipped past his lips when Harald's brows raised at his crudeness, his movements temporarily pausing. "You offer hot baths to anyone you find pretty?"

"They typically like me for my charm-"

"Charm?"

"Yes, my charm." Harald drawled and dropped his hand, the water rippling from the contact. "If it wasn't for my charm, why did you lay with me?"

"You were available. And desperate." (Y/N) shrugged lightly and slipped the rag from Harald's fingers, squeezing the water out of it and rubbing it against his shoulders. 

"You make me feel like that," Harald sighed, fingers brushing against the top of (Y/N)'s knee. "You make me feel many things."

Shifting in the water, (Y/N) moved toward the prince and propped his arms on either side of Harald's. His heart danced around in his chest, threatening to burst out at any given moment but he shoved down the jittery feeling in his veins instead, he bumped his nose against Harald's and gazed into his darkening eyes. (Y/N) leaned back and found Harald leaning after him, chasing his lips in hopes of stealing a kiss. "Careful, prince. You may fall in." 

"You are no bear.." Harald breathed, a smirk appearing on his face. "You are a fox."

                    ➸        ➸       ➸       ➸       ➸       ➸

The shieldmaidens entered the makeshift arena in a single line for Freydis's test. She was last among them, having exchanged the blue tunic for their signature yellow. Leif, Liv, (Y/N), and Harald watched from the sidelines as the shieldmaidens turned to face Jarl Haakon and dropped to one knee, simultaneously speaking in Norse. Rising up again, the women spread out and Freydis handed her sword over. She needed to prove her strength against the group. She had to mark her place among them by defeating them in combat. Silence fell over them as Freydis stepped back into the center, scanning each face and bracing herself for the first attack.

The first woman charged, taking advantage of Freydis's back being turned to her. Expecting the attack, Freydis turned just in time to dodge the swing. The woman stumbled and Freydis took advantage of her momentary daze to kick her forward onto the ground before landing a solid punch to her jaw, thus marking the woman out of the fight. Jarl Haakon smiled proudly at her first win.

Two shieldmaidens charged neck, one swinging her sword and the other shoving forward her spear. Freydis dodged the swing of the sword and angled her body to avoid the spear. Thinking fast on her feet, she grabbed the spear and aimed the end of it toward the woman with the sword before slamming her body against the second woman and loosening her grip on the spear. Taking the spear from her, Freydis swung at both women, using quickness and good aim to knock both women down without seriously injuring them. 

Twirling the spear in her hand, she aimed at the next woman who charged and flung it forward but the woman raised her shield in time to block it. Scrambling to pick up the discarded sword and shield on the ground, Freydis faced her again, only for another woman to come up at her side and use her own shield to force Freydis onto the ground. She blocked the woman's hits while on her back before swinging her leg at the back of her ankles, effectively causing her opponent to fall onto her knees. She rolled out of the way to avoid Freydis's sword and the two women used the distance to get back on their feet. They charged at each other, grunting and huffing as metal hit metal until Freydis got her sword to the woman's neck, forcing her to surrender.

But she didn't have time to breathe before being charged at again. Her new opponent, the woman that had saved Leif from Arne's attack the previous night, didn't spare her, swinging her sword and blocking with her shield. They broke apart for a moment, their chests heaving with pants and then they charged again, swinging and blocking until the woman brought her shield to Freydis's knee, causing her to cry out and lean over instinctively. Using the distraction, the woman swung her shield at Freydis's and pushed her down on the ground. She allowed Freydis the time to get back on her feet but didn't hold back, swinging at her again and again. Freydis got a solid hit against the woman's side but she didn't even bat an eye, slamming her shield against Freydis's and causing it to bounce back and hit her face. Freydis cried out as she fell back, rolling over onto her stomach and cupping her face in pain.

"Get up!" Jarl Haakon shouted, encouraging chants erupting in the crowd. Freydis staggered to her feet and tossed her shield and sword aside. When she turned around, (Y/N) grimaced at the sight. Blood oozed from her temple, dripping down the side of her face, and her bloodied lips parted to suck in gulps of air. Freydis went as far enough to unclasp the armor and toss it aside. She continued to stumble around and her opponent frowned, turning to look at Jarl Haakon with an arched brow. When Jarl Haakon remained silent, the woman sighed deeply and looked back at Freydis. Fingers brushed against (Y/N) and he felt someone hook their finger around his. Glancing down, he noticed Harald's hand and looked up at him. Harald gave him a reassuring smile.

With the fight still on, the woman charged and swung but Freydis ducked. Dodging another swing, she lifted her foot and slammed it against the shield, pushing her back. The woman charged again and Freydis allowed the sword to brush against her arm in order to get closer to her and push the shield aside, shoving the woman back again. Despite stumbling on her feet, she dodged another swing and spun around, grasping the woman's arm and stomping on her leg, forcing her down on one knee and holding her wrist. The woman dropped her sword only to catch it with her free hand. Freydis quickly backed away, ducking from two swings before charging forward and slamming her body against the woman's and taking the sword from her weakened grasp. Cutting her side and watching her fall back on her knees, Freydis held the blade to her throat before she could get up. 

Once Jarl Haakon nodded her approval, Freydis lowered her sword and offered the woman her hand, helping her up on her feet. The two grinned at each other as the crowd cheered and shieldmaidens approached Freydis to congratulate her. Freydis panted, soaking in the cheers and her victory before lowering down to one knee when Jarl Haakon walked toward her with a proud smile. 

"Freydis Eriksdottir. What promise do you make?"

"I promise on Odin to protect Kattegat to the death." Freydis breathed.

The woman beside Jarl Haakon took Freydis's sword out of its sheath and held it before her as Jarl Haakon took a handful of dirt and then wiped her other hand on Freydis's blood. Smearing the blood and sprinkling the dirt on the sword, she spoke. "The body and Earth are one." Taking the sword into her hands, she held it and stared down at her. "As you protect me, so I you. Rise." She said and Freydis took, taking her sword back and taking the shield offered to her.

Turning to look at the crowd, Freydis grinned. "Yeah!" She screamed into the day, causing the crowd to erupt into cheers and hollers. Liv excitedly jumped up and down, cheering for Freydis and laughing. (Y/N) watched the pure euphoria on Freydis's face as she continued to scream and thrust her sword upward. She belonged in Kattegat as a warrior, he knew that now. And when Harald wrapped his fingers around his wrist, he wondered if he belonged somewhere, at someone's side. 

[temptingfatetakingnames]

The Last Steve Harrington Part 11

AO3 Part 1 Part 10

Steve’s first day at Scoops Ahoy wasn’t as bad as he was expecting it to be… even with the sailor outfit he was forced to wear. His coworker, Eddie Munson, who had started a few weeks before him brought a chaotic but fun energy to the job. The uniform showed off his legs but it was his hands that really caught Steve’s attention. They were beautiful. Long and slim. Almost delicate looking. He painted them, usually black but every now and then there would be a pop of colour. Every finger was decked out with a silver ring, even when he was scooping ice cream which Steve thought must have been annoying but didn’t seem to bother him. Steve knew that he played guitar and he wondered if his fingertips were covered in callouses – wondered what they would feel like against his skin –

– Eds’ hands slipped under his shirt, moving over his hip bones and across his stomach. Gently, softly – like he was afraid Steve would disappear into smoke if he touched him harder. Steve wanted it harder; wished that his fingers would brand him, bruise him, mark him forever. His nails were painted yellow, a colour Steve had never seen him wear before. When Steve had asked him about it, he had replied, “to match you,” in such a way that he thought it should have been obvious –

The house was quiet when Steve went downstairs, he had slept in and it seemed that everyone was already gone for the day. There was still hot coffee in the pot so he poured himself a cup and looked around the kitchen. It wasn’t messy, but it wasn’t clean either. It was lived in – comfortable. Steve set his cup down and opened the fridge. He grabbed out the ingredients to make an omelet and set them on the counter. He looked at them for a long moment before putting it all back in the fridge and taking out the milk instead. He grabbed a bowl out of the cupboard and poured himself some Cheerios. Maybe tomorrow he would make an omelet.

He was chewing on his cereal and looking out the window when he saw Will, Mike, Lucas, and Dustin roll up on their bikes. They threw them down onto the yard and climbed the front steps. The front door opened and they came barreling into the kitchen like a pack of wild hyenas.

“Hey, Steve!” Dustin exclaimed happily when he saw him.

Steve’s mouth was full so he grunted in reply.

The boys whirled around him, opening the fridge and the cupboards looking for easy snacks. Dustin sat down at the table and stared at him until he started to feel a little uncomfortable. A bug under a microscope didn’t get this much laser focused attention. But he was smiling his big Dustin smile and Steve couldn’t help but smile back.

He swallowed his cheerios and asked, “where are the girls?”

Dustin’s smile got wider. “It’s boys’ day, Steve.”

Steve blinked at him, waiting for more of an explanation. If Dustin was trying to communicate with him telepathically, he wasn’t picking up on the wavelength.

“Jesus,” Mike said from behind him. “Do you want to hang out with us later? We’re going over to Eddie’s for movies when he gets off work.”

“We do it every other Friday. No girls allowed for the whole day,” Will said happily.

“You gotta come!” Lucas urged.

“Sure,” Steve said. “Sounds like fun.”

Dustin whooped, Lucas and Will smiled and Mike rolled his eyes. They scampered out as quickly as they came, snacks stuffed into their pockets. Steve watched through the window as they took off on their bikes and smiled. He finished his cheerios and washed the bowl in the sink before taking his coffee outside. He sat down on the porch swing and sipped it slowly, enjoying the quiet morning and the summer breeze.

---

The boys came back after dinner, Steve had no idea whose poor house had to suffer them all through a meal. They were all on the lawn, waiting for Eddie to come get them. He had his backpack slung over his shoulder just in case he ended up staying over again.

The wind had picked up as the sun was setting, casting everything in a warm orange glow. A strong gust blew Dustin’s hat off his head. He chased after it as the boys laughed. He was smacking the dirt off it against his leg when Steve reached over and ruffled his hair. The action caused Dustin to freeze for a moment before he turned and grinned up at him. Steve smiled back and bumped his shoulder into the younger boys. It was starting to feel better, easier… being around them. The bitter part of his bittersweet feelings was melting into something he couldn’t name. Something closer to peace than the resignation he had felt for so long.

Eddie arrived shortly later, windows down and music blaring. Once again, the boys clambered into the back seats, leaving shot gun for Steve.

“Hey Eddie,’ Steve said as he hopped into the van.

“Steve.” Eddie nodded to him and turned the music down so it could be heard but wouldn’t hurt Steve’s head. The ride over to the trailer park was still a bit noisy with the boys in the back talking loudly over each other. Eddie drummed his hands on the steering wheel and bobbed his head to the radio.

“How was work?” Steve asked.

“Shop was busy, lots of people who refuse to change their oil and ruin their engines.”

“Lots of idiots who don’t know how to take care of their cars,” Steve said, lamenting the loss of his beamer.

Eddie snorted. “I would have around 60% less of a job if people took care of their cars properly.”

“What’s the other 40%?”

Eddie looked over at him with a grin. “Idiots who don’t know how to drive.”  

Steve laughed and Eddie turned back to the road, still smiling. Steve tried not to stare at his dimples from the corner of his eye and failed miserably. They made their way to the trailer park quickly and the boys hopped out before Eddie finished parking the van. Pushing and shoving each other, they all fought to get inside Eddie’s trailer first. Will and Dustin did their best but it was Lucas and Mike who made it to the door first. At the last second, Lucas managed to shove Mike out of the way and slipped inside.

“Is there a spot they’re fighting for?” Steve asked as Eddie came around the other side of the van.

Eddie nodded. “Wayne’s chair. Best seat in the house. Reclines all the way back.” 

“I’m surprised you haven’t claimed it for these movie nights, it’s your place after all.”

“I can never sit down long enough to claim it for the whole night. I’ll steal it for a little bit though.”

Sure enough, when Steve got in the trailer, Lucas was sitting in the recliner like a king. The couch was big enough for three, which meant some of them were going to have to get comfortable on the floor. Eddie must have brought out pillows and blankets out before he picked them up and Will was already piling them in front of the couch, making a comfortable spot to lay down on. The table that was in front of the couch the other time Steve visited was pushed off to the side so they could still use it but wouldn’t be in the way of the people on the floor.

“Your horror movie education continues tonight my young pupils,” Eddie said as he looked around the room. “And Steve.”

Steve wiggled his fingers at him.

“Your choices are: The Thing, The Fly, or The Exorcist!” Eddie said in an exaggerated game show host voice.

“I sense a theme here,” Steve said dryly.

“Shush you, let them pick.”

Immediately the boys started arguing and yelling over each other. Steve let it go on for a minute, hoping that they would come to some kind of an agreement on their own. Eddie seemed content to watch them yell, but it wasn’t going to get them anywhere and it was starting to hurt his head.

“Jesus, one at a time! Dustin, which one?”

“The Exorcist!”

“Mike.”

“The Thing.”

“Lucas.”

“The fly.”

All eyes turned to Will. Deal breaker time.

“Will?”

Will’s eyes flitted around the room before coming back to Steve.

“The Thing,” he said blushing the tiniest bit when Mike jumped up and down, cheering.

Eddie clapped his hands loudly. “An excellent decision!”

Steve went to sit on the couch, he was still recovering and there was no way he was going to spend the night on the floor. He took the far corner and Dustin immediately came and sat beside him. Mike and Will settled on the floor. Eddie popped the tape into the VHS player and then claimed the vacant spot on the other side of Dustin. Seemed his generosity didn’t extend to him sitting on the floor of his own trailer. Dustin looked at Steve and then over at Eddie, a beaming smile on his face as the opening trailers started playing.

Everyone settled in as the movie played, the light from the television screen dancing on their faces. Steve liked The Thing; the special effects were great and Kurt Russell was hot. Eddie got up from the couch shortly after the start of the movie to grab beers for himself and Steve.

“Where’s mine?” Lucas asked with a cheeky grin.

“There’s soda in the fridge if you’re willing to lose your seat, Sinclair,” Eddie said as he sat back down.

Lucas grumbled but didn’t get up.

Steve sipped his beer and enjoyed the movie. Most of the time the boys were quiet, Dustin spoke every now and then with a little fact about the production or practical effects. Eddie constantly got up to get drinks or make popcorn. He had a restless energy, even when he was sitting his legs were jiggling or his fingers were spinning his rings. Eds had been the same, but where Eddie used his rings to release some of his pent-up energy, Eds had used Steve. He had played with his hands, ran his fingers through his hair, tugged at his clothes.

Steve felt Eddie’s presence like gravity – an inescapable pull. He found it difficult to watch the movie when all he wanted to do was watch him. As much as they had in common, Eddie and Eds were two very different people – and it fascinated him how that could possibly be. Steve didn’t know much about Eddie’s past but he couldn’t imagine it being that different from Eds’. So, it was the same as him and Other Steve – Something in the past few years caused a divergence in their universes.  

That wasn’t to say that there weren’t things about them that were similar – frighteningly and beautifully similar… Steve eye’s drifted over to where Eddie’s fingers were tapping a beat against his knee, his rings glinted in the flickering light and his nails had chipped black polish –

A scream from the movie shook him from his thoughts and he re-focused on the television, ignoring the pull from his eyes to look in a different direction.

The night was still young when the credits rolled across the screen, so they decided to watch another movie. They took a break, so everyone could stretch a little and use the bathroom. Lucas got up from the recliner to get a drink and promptly lost it to Mike.

“What was your Eddie like anyway? Was he like me?” Eddie asked after he shoved a handful of popcorn into his face.

For the first time Steve saw the question as an opportunity and not an attack. A wicked grin crept across his face.

“Eds was great, really friendly and popular – more popular than I was! Captain of the baseball team, too.”

Eddie looked positively horrified and Dustin stared at him with his mouth wide open in shock. Lucas blinked at him from the kitchen and Will and Mike traded confounded looks between them. Their complete and utter shock was one of the best things Steve had ever seen.

He let the silent horror build for a moment before he blinked at them, acting confused. “Were you not captain of the baseball team?”

Eddie sputtered, trying to chew and swallow his popcorn quickly so he could answer but ended up choking on it instead.

“No!” Dustin screamed so incredulously that Steve burst out laughing.

True – gut aching, tears in his eyes, full bodied – laughter.

“Got you!” he said as he wiped his eyes.

“What the hell, Steve?” Lucas yelled.

Steve just kept laughing gleefully.

When he finally calmed down and glanced around the room the other boys were all looking at him with soft expressions.

“Good one, Steve,” Eddie said with a matching grin.

“I knew Eds a lot longer than I’ve known you but from what I’ve seen so far, you two are pretty similar.” Steve paused and looked straight at Eddie. “Huge nerds with a rough exterior but damn big hearts.”

Eddie pulled his hair in front of his face and looked away.

Steve stood up and stretched, rolling his shoulders a little as he made his way to the bathroom. He closed the door but not before he heard an incredulous, “captain of the baseball team, my ass” from Eddie followed by more laughter. Steve smiled. He relieved himself and washed his hands before patting some cool water onto his cheeks and the back of his neck. It was warm in the trailer with so many bodies.

The last time he was here had been a bad night – but even so, it was a place that he was already starting to have fond memories of. Robin and Eddie had worried about him, had gone out in the darkness to find him, to make sure he was alright. And they didn’t try to make it better but instead kept him company. He learned more about Robin and shared a bit of himself. It had been warm then, too – but Steve hadn’t had such a good night’s sleep in a long, long time, tangled up in Robin’s legs and Eddie’s familiar scent all around him.

When he went back to the other room everyone was getting settled back down. Mike was in the recliner, Dustin and Lucas were trying to get comfortable on the floor, and Will was in the middle of the couch, chatting with Eddie who was sitting beside him. Steve’s spot was still open on his other side so he made his way over.

When he sat down Eddie went to get up, probably to change the tape and start the next movie but he ended up tripping over the carpet and falling hard into the table, knocking the bowl of popcorn off.

“Jesus, rolled a ‘nat’ one on that dexterity check, Eddie,” Steve said.

The room seemed to freeze around him and everyone slowly turned to look at him.

“What did you just say?” Dustin asked, pure shock on his face.

Steve was confused. “It was a D&D joke. You do play D&D right?”

“Do we play D&D?” Dustin spluttered. “Of course we do! Do you!?”

“With Eds as a boyfriend and all of you gremlins as my friends you think I could get away with not playing? Not a chance.”

“You play D&D!?” Dustin screamed.

“Eddie was your boyfriend?” Will yelled.

Mike made a gagging noise.

Lucas stared at him, wide eyed.

Steve wasn’t sure which fact was more shocking to them – him playing D&D or him dating Eddie.

“I play a half-orc half human barbarian named Chuggington, but his friends call him Chug.” He paused before answering the other question, unsure of how they would take it. “And yeah, me and Eds were dating.”

The room went silent again as the boys stared at him. Steve was afraid to look at Eddie, who had gone preternaturally still in his peripheral vision.

The silent moment ended abruptly when Dustin threw himself at Steve. “This is so awesome,” he said excitedly, “we tried to get Steve to play for years! Eddie, Will – you gotta write a campaign for us!”

Will blinked back, still a little wide eyed. “Sure, Dustin.”

Eddie didn’t say anything, just went over to the door and slipped outside. Steve tried to tell himself that it didn’t hurt.

He wasn’t very convincing.

“I should – I’m gunna go talk to him. Give us a minute, yeah?”

The boys nodded and watched him with heavy eyes as he went to the door. It was dark outside, the lamps in the trailer park doing little. Eddie sat on the steps, a lit cigarette hanging loosely in one hand. Steve went to sit down beside him.

“You didn’t tell them?” Steve asked.

“I didn’t know,” Eddie replied softly.  

Steve reached into his shirt and took out Eds’ necklace. “This didn’t give it away?”

Eddie looked at it for a long moment before he met Steve’s eyes.

“I knew he must have cared about you, but not how much. I guess I couldn’t wrap my head around a universe where Steve Harrington was with Eddie Munson.”

“There was at least one,” Steve said with a small smile. He didn’t understand what was so crazy about it, being with Eds was the easiest thing he ever did. “Sorry if I made things weird.”

Eddie sighed. “Things have been weird for a long time, Steve.”

He didn’t know what to say to that understatement so he sat quietly, looking up at the stars. Eddie cleared his throat and Steve looked over to him holding out his cigarette to him. He stared at the hand, the long and delicate fingers, the chipped nail polish, the silver rings – and for some reason he felt like he might cry. He swallowed the feeling and took the cigarette, brought it to his lips and inhaled.

“So… you’re? – ” Eddie left the question hanging.

“Bisexual,” Steve answered, passing the cigarette back.

“Cool, cool,” Eddie said looking away and taking a drag. Steve was curious about Eddie’s sexuality but he wasn’t going to push him on it. If Other Steve was straight in this universe, Eddie could be too. He hoped Eddie would want to talk about it, but the truth was… they still weren’t that close.

Yet.

But they were getting there, Steve hoped.

They traded the cigarette back and forth until it was spent. Eddie leaned down and reached for the ash tray that was on the bottom of the stairs and stubbed it out.

“Why is there a steak knife in your sock?”

Steve looked down at his leg, the handle of the knife was peaking out. He tucked it back in slowly, careful not to cut himself on it.  

“It feels better – safer, when I have a weapon. I have my bat at home but I didn’t want to bring it with me, so I went with something smaller, easier to conceal. Sorry… I must sound nuts.”

Eddie laughed and turned to him. “Not at all, Steve. Not at all.”

Steve smiled back and then gestured to the trailer behind him. “Should we head back in? Who knows what they’re up to in there.”

Eddie laughed again and nodded. “Yeah, let’s head back in.”

Part 12

@just-a-tiny-void @mx-jinxous @child-of-cthulhu @awholedamnmesstbh @phoenix0bird @queenie-ofthe-void @bookworm0690 @estrellami-1 @hbyrde36 @a-gae-af-racoon @nailbatandfreak @newtstabber @novelnovella @meela86 @lenathegay @vampireinthesun @penny00dreadful @questionablequeeries @espressopatronum454 @r0binscript @seths-rogens @fruity-nerd @sani-86 @n0-1-important @swimmingbirdrunningrock @ellietheasexylibrarian @manda-panda-monium @paintsplatteredandimperfect @viridianphtalo @goodolefashionedloverboi @13catastrophic-blues

-I debated between DnD and D&D for ages - googled which way other people wrote it and changed it back forth multiple times. -My knowledge of D&D comes almost exclusively form Baldurs Gate so please don't come for me (I will definitely be writing Astarion fanfic at some point). -Steve playing D&D as Chuggington was one of the first scenes I came up with for this fic -The truth is out! They know that Eds and Steve were together! Woohoo

[communicationthroughlyrics]

I Like Your Blood On My Teeth Just A Little Too Much - 10

You’re a former military, career oriented security executive who has made quite the living for yourself- but it has always been lacking. Your non-committal attitude has led you down a playgirl lifestyle, never really settling. What happens when your new boss throws you a curveball, and as a result? You end up hopelessly involved with a Hollywood starlet.

A/N: I'm speeding up the timeline a little bit, so some of the next few chapters will leap forwards in the timeline. Bear with me :]

3.2K Word Count

Ch 10: I Pulled Off Your Wings, Then I Laughed

Jimmy knew that this was not going to be an easy go of it for you. In the many letters and correspondence between the two of you, you had let him know that you were constantly scared of one thing, and that was this character from your past showing back up. Now, that is what your entire company was staring down the barrel at. He knew that Waters affected you deeply. 

“Y/N, what happened?” He asked, knowing that there is more to this than just the job at hand. 

“He showed up at my apartment, Jim. And then followed me from MY HOME. He followed me from McCall, here. He has my number- in more ways than one. He has already called me twice. I don’t feel safe.” You felt small with the admission, but it was true. If there was one person you could be vulnerable with, it was Jimmy. Your normally stoic demeanor faltered, and he could see right though it. 

“Ok. I’ll keep tabs on him.” He looked at you, and rose from his seat. He walked over to you, placing his rough hand on your shoulder. “You better get your ass going, you’ll miss your morning meeting.” He said, looking down at the time on his watch. You looked down at your watch as well, jumping up when you realized it was already 8:30 and you hadn’t finished what you needed to before going to Scarletts. He laughed at your response, and walked out of your office. 

“That was quite the meeting.” Kris stated as she asked back into your office. “Is everything ok? I’m sorry for interrupting earlier.”

“Everything is fine. I just needed to go over some things with him, and give him a new assignment is all.”

“A new assignment? What assignment? I didn’t see anything in the books.” She asked, visibly confused by the change. 

“Kris, it’s fine. Just a temporary shift. No biggie. I have to go up to the job site today, so I need you to take care of things here. I also need you to look into the mystery car from yesterday.” You alluded to the fact that no answer had been provided on the black vehicle that followed you the majority of the way here. She nodded, before turning around and heading back to her office. You sat down, finishing the emails and tasks before you as quickly as you could, and switching the setting on your emails to forward them to Kris. Groaning as you looked at the time, you knew you would be late in the LA traffic to Scarletts house. Currently, you wouldn’t get there till 9:45 at the earliest- but she still hadn’t called to tell you she was leaving yet, so there was hope for you. 

You freshened up in the bathroom, reapplying some cologne, and grabbing your black suit jacket and slinging it over your shoulders. You weren’t sure if you would need it, but it was an unseasonably cool day for LA at the end of August. Equipped with your pistol on your hip, and your black sunglasses, you walked out of your office, typing the code into the lock, and made your way to the parking garage. Remote starting the truck, you sling a smaller black duffel onto the passenger seat, and walk around to your side, climbing into the lifted vehicle. You checked in the rearview, slicking your manicured eyebrows into the correct position, your gaze lingering on the bald area where the hair refuses to grow through the scar tissue. Plugging your phone into the truck, and begin driving towards the address in your navigation, you receive a phone call from the starlet herself. 

“Resolute Security, Y/L/N speaking.”

“You don’t have to say that every time, ya know. I know who I’m calling, and you know who I am.”

“In the name of professionalism, Ms. Johansson.” You rolled your eyes. 

“Scarlett. Please. I’m about to leave now, are you on your way?”

“Yes ma’am, I’m driving now.”

“Okay Y/N. I’ll be seeing you. Bye.” She hung up before you could say anything further. You thought about texting her to tell her no rush, that you were hitting traffic, but just decided to focus on the hour drive ahead of you. You really loathed the traffic here, making a drive that would normally take half an hour and easily doubling it was highly irritating. You turned up the music, knowing you could vent some of your frustrations into the air around you, singing the songs that reflected your feelings at the current time. 

As the drive neared its end, you were feeling slightly better after singing to your hearts content on the way to the north side of Calabasas. You cringed at the thought of how typical this was, but remembered the idiot you were going to be protecting someone from. You were pleasantly shocked when the directions took you through Calabasas proper, and up into the canyon, further north, and further and further away from the majority of the celebrity that fell below. The green truck rumbled up to a gatekeeper, you rolled your window down and gave the gentleman your information. He looked you over a few times, gave back your ID and waved you through. You made a mental note of changing that- it was way too easy to get into this neighborhood. You romped your way through the winding canyon roads, finally approaching the work in progress perched on top of the bluff, overlooking all of the city below, and looking straight towards the greater LA area. Parking the truck up near the house, you check your appearance once more, making sure your hair was how you wanted, and situating the necklaces on your tattooed chest. You shut the truck off, and hopped out, brushing yourself off and straightening your outfit out further. 

“Well, well, it isn’t nice to leave people waiting. But I can honestly say it was worth the wait.” The gravelly voice came from behind you, causing you to spin on your heel. Once you made eye contact, she began to run her eyes up and down your figure. 

“My apologies, traffic was a real bitch.” You respond, drinking in the appearance of a slightly shorter Scarlett, wearing white sneakers, torn light blue jeans, and a striped blue and white polo, with a grey sport coat. Her eyebrow was cocked as she watched you.

“I bet it was. Come on in, pardon the mess.” She said, grazing past you and heading straight for the house. The majority of the massive abode seemed to be done, but there were obvious odds and ends that needed to be taken care of. You found yourself looking at all the details, taking in the mid century styling of the structure. “Make yourself at home,” she motions towards a room that already has some furniture, dark walnut paneling and large overhead geometric lights. You sit on one of the chairs, allowing yourself to look out at the view of the Valley floor below. 

“Gorgeous house Scarlett.”

“Thank you, Y/N. Water? It’s bottled water.” She asked, her voice resonating from the area you resumed to be the kitchen. 

“Please.” She approached with a bottle of water, before sitting on the chair across from you, and removing her sunglasses. 

“For a woman of few words, I am surprised you wanted to talk, Y/N. I think this is the first time we’ve been able to sit and have a conversation, just us.” She says with a playing smirk on her face. 

“Yeah, it is. I don’t typically see my clients, so this is new.” You state, taking a large swig from the water bottle. You couldn’t help but notice the slight deflection on her face, showing a slight disappointment at your statement. 

“I’m surprised your assistant isn’t in tote,” she comes back cooly, trying hide some of the jealousy she felt towards the woman who saw you almost every day. 

“She’s a big girl, she has her own things she needs to do at the office.” You smirk over the water bottle, raising it to your lips once more. Scarletts gaze shifted from your face down, watching the muscles in your neck and collar flex as you drank. At this moment, you were glad your sunglasses were still on, hiding your amusement at her reactions. Once you were happy with the amount of water you had consumed, you set the bottle back down on the floor next to your chair. 

“Mmhmm, that she is. You said you wanted to talk to me in person about some things?” She asked, leaning forward towards you. 

“Yeah, actually,” you removed your glasses, allowing your full face to be visible. Scarlett quickly begin to look over every facet of your facade. “I wanted to ask you if you have had any reasons in particular, that you sought out more help than what you have currently.” You leaned back in the chair, holding your glasses with one arm resting on your lips. 

“I’m not really sure what you mean, Y/N.” Scarlett looked utterly confused by the question.

“I noticed you had quite the security detail already. Have there been any scenarios or events that made you feel your current security was not adequate enough?” You probe again, trying to leave the question more open to a longer answer. She leans back as well, taking the time to think to herself. “While you think about that, I’m going to take a brief walk around. I need to make a phone call.” You state, raising from the chair, and pretending not to hear her breathing shift as you leaned in her direction, exposing more of your chest for her to see. “I’ll be right back.” You slide the phone out of your pocket, texting Jim to see if he had been able to get any leads on Steve. You walk around the perimeter of the estate, looking at everything in a tactical, defensive manner. This house was a sitting duck, with hardly any covering foliage, but it did have neighbors just down the hill. This place was a strategic nightmare. Your phone buzzed, you looked down to see who it was from. 

10:23 AM  UNK- “I know you’re plotting the place out. Just know I will see everything.”

10:24 AM   JIM- “Yes, I have a bead on this slimy little fuck. He sure has been following you hard.”

10:25 AM   YOU- “Jim, he’s texting me, I’m at Scarletts.”

You cringed at the thought of this, and went back inside to discuss things further with Scarlett. She must have caught a slight change in your demeanor. 

“Everything ok, Y/N?” 

“Yeah, everything is.” You smile, faking it for the time being. “So, do you have an answer for me?”

“Yes and no,” she responded, wringing her hands together. You had noticed that she does this a lot, when you were doing your research for this project. You studied her body language in various interviews and tv spots to know when she is distressed, upset, or nervous would be crucial to knowing if something was going on. “I’ve play my fair share of interesting characters. Black Widow was one of my most popular. But playing a Russian spy can attract some unwarranted attention by the more… unsavory crowd.” She looked off towards the wall of windows before the both of you. “Up until recently it’s been manageable. As a celebrity, you get your occasional hate mail, but hey, that’s what assistants and PR is for, to go through the mail and sort out the negative.” She continued to play with her hands, spinning rings on her fingers, and tracing the tattoo on her right wrist. You resumed your place across from her, so you could watch the behavioral shifts, but also wanting to feel closer to her. “As of late, I’ve been pulled out of interviews mid-sentence, shuffled around like some secret service pet. I can no longer fulfill my obligations, and I no longer feel safe.” She looks down, just staring at her now still hands. “I constantly feel like someone I don’t want around is watching. I’m paranoid.”

“Scarlett,” gaining the weary gaze of the blonde from her hands. “When you say you feel like you’re being watched, have you ever noticed anyone lurking around, or any vehicles that don’t belong?” You had a feeling you knew this answer already, but she needed to be the one to tell you. “I am fully aware of the group that has been threatening you. Best case is to be fully transparent with me.” She looked directly into your eyes, hers slightly misty, holding back tears. She carefully wiped her eyes, trying not to mess up her makeup. 

“I always see a car hanging around, but never anyone with it. Like it’s taunting me. Just far enough away to make it seem like it’s there for something or someone else, but always where I am.”

“What does the car look like?”

“It’s black. But beyond that, I couldn’t tell you. I’m honestly terrible with cars.” She laughs, wiping her eyes again. “I have a picture of it in my phone.” The memory suddenly strikes her, and she searches through her phone for the photo. “Here. This is the one always around.” She hands you her phone which you confiscate to examine the photo. Not surprisingly, the vehicle she photographed was identical to the one that followed you out from Idaho. 

“Hmm… are you okay if I send this to my phone?” You ask her permission to forward the photo to your personal cell. 

“Yes, that’s fine.”

“It’s a Chevy Malibu, for the record. But they probably change the plates on it regularly to avoid detection.” You hand the phone back to her. “Any time you see it, try and get a photo, as long as it's safe.”

She nodded in response, a slight smile on her face. “Okay. I should have known you would know what kind of car it was.” You look at her with a confused expression. “I saw you leave the morning of the first meeting. You seem to have a very particular taste in cars.” She nodded out to your truck. You raised your eyebrow, and smirked. Your phone dinged at the receipt of the photo from Scarlett, and you forwarded it to Jimmy, typing a quick message that she’s been noticing it hanging around.

“If you mean fast and loud, then yes, yes I do.” You leaned back in the chair, laughing and crossing your right leg over the left. “I collect cars, actually.” She clicked her tongue, obviously pondering her next statement. 

“I would like to get to know the person who will be taking care of my safety for the unforeseen future.” She turned towards you, a nervous smile on her face. “I would imagine that this issue won’t go away over night, and I’d like to keep you around. Your crew has already been here installing so much more than I had anticipated, and it shows how much you care.” You hesitated, not knowing how to approach. You were not used to being face to face with your clients, particularly one of this… caliber. Sensing your hesitation, she visibly panicked. “But I totally understand if you won’t due to your professionalism, I just thought…“ Your laugh caught her off guard. She hadn’t seen you smile, or laugh, at all up to this point. 

“Scarlett?” You quirk your scarred eyebrow, leaning in her direction. You were letting your guard down a little at a time with the blonde. 

“Yes?”

“You don’t need to panic. It’s ok. I think that putting a person behind the client title helps. I would love to get to know you more, at least more than I’ve read.” You smirk at the last part, knowing that she probably didn’t realized you had done some homework. 

“You’ve read, huh? What have you read about me?” She asks, suddenly intrigued by the admission. “I should have known you would be the studious type.”

“That’s classified,” you wink.

“How on earth could it be classified when I’m who it’s about??” She laughed, questioning the deflection. 

“No, but seriously. I’ve read literally everything about you already. I know how much you bought this place for, that you’re not technically divorced or separated, but that your ‘ex’ and you are no longer together, all the way to how much money you’ve made every year you’ve been working. That top secret clearance gets me access to everything, Ms. Johansson.” You emphasize the last name, just to get a little bit more of a rise out of her. “But what I read and who someone really is, those are two different things. It would be nice to learn the things from the source, not just some government file on everything you have, have done, have had on paper. ”

“You must be a real hit at parties, Y/L/N.” She chuckled.

“Eh, that would require going to them. I don’t generally do that any more. I’ve made more enemies than friends in my line of work.”

“I can’t imagine why, it’s such a straightforward job to work with the government,” she quipped, rolling her eyes., grabbing her water bottle and taking a swig.

“Oh it totally is, very black and white. No wiggle room at all.” You snark back. She almost spit her water out at the comment. 

“Is that a sense of humor I detect, Y/N?” She laughed again, leaning again in your direction.

“Yeah, it’s in there, don’t get used to it though.” She rolled her eyes, leaning backward again. “However, I did want to discuss one other thing with you, Scarlett.”

“Ok, shoot.”

“With the understanding that you have seen a car hanging around, I want to give you some information. Not to scare you, but to empower you. The more you know, the better. Understood?” She nodded, eyebrow raised as is to question what could be coming next. “There are likely two people in that car you keep seeing. One of them is former military, and he- from everything we have investigated so far, is extremely unpredictable. ” Scarlett takes a deep breath, putting her face in her hands. 

“Is this supposed to make me feel any better? Because it doesn’t, Y/N.”

“It may not right now. But you have to know what you’re up against.”

“Well, Y/N, it sounds like your homework didn’t uncover the ‘fan’ that has been showing up to all my appearances.” This caught you off guard. There was nothing in the file or anything you read about a recurring fan- typically the fans all over the Internet pick something like that apart.

“You’re correct. I haven’t heard of this, so please, discuss further. I need to know these things. You okay if I record what happened?” You grabbed your phone,  waving it in her direction.

“Yeah, if it helps keep this guy away from me.”

“Let’s get everything going, see what we can take care of for you.” You set the phone on the middle of the coffee table, signaling for her to start with your hands. 

(CHAPTER 11)

[chrysochroma]

Hermit Horror Week

Day 3: Chase

@hermithorrorweek

Title: Trophy Hunting

Prompt: Chase

Rating: Teen And Up

Words: 1,009

Warnings: Gore, Blood, Violence, Death, Horror, Decapitaton

Summary: False is very good at the Head Games.

read on Ao3

Since its beginning, the Head Game had occupied most of FalseSymmetry’s time. She found that the other participants mostly used mob heads or wandering villagers’ trades to get to the top of the leaderboard. However, False decided that she would take a different approach to the challenge. Something a bit more entertaining. 

False stood before the bounty board at the Head Game building, eyes scanning the list and fingers tapping against the grip of her bow. She heard the faint flapping sound of an elytra closing and spun in the direction of the sound, nocking an arrow and drawing her bowstring back. 

“Hey, Impulse,” She called out.

“Hey,” He replied, although a bit quietly.

“Watcha doing?”

“Oh, nothing.” He equipped his shield with a flash. “Just looking at the leaderboard.”

“Yeah? And who’s winning?”

Impulse quickly glanced at the board next to him, not wanting to give her more of an advantage than she already had. He read the name on the top sign, then slowly turned back to False. “You.”

“I wonder why.” She tilted her bow down and shot her arrow straight through Impulse’s foot and into the ground, pinning him where he stood. 

A spike of pain shot up through Impulse’s leg as a couple hearts disappeared from his health bar. He tried to step away, but was stopped by the arrow. “Hey, I don’t want any trouble,” he started. 

False put her bow away and equipped a shining diamond sword instead, then ripped one of the pieces of paper off the board. “Well, too bad for you that you’re today’s double point Hermit then, isn’t it?” She stepped closer, tightening her grip on her sword’s handle. 

“Can’t we cut a deal?” He offered, still holding his shield up. 

“Sure we can. You stay still while I take your head, and I’ll make this quick for you.” She raised her sword. 

“No, no, no, I meant something more along the lines of: you don’t kill me, and I’ll … give you diamonds! You like diamonds, right?” He smiled nervously. 

False tilted her head to the side, her lips spreading into an entertained grin. “I do, but I’m going to have to respectfully decline your offer.”

“Wait-!”

“Pleasure doing business.”

She swung her sword, cutting through Impulse’s neck, separating his head from the rest of his body. Impulse’s body slumped to the ground, blood pouring out of his severed veins. 

She sheathed her sword, then picked his head up out of the puddle of blood in the grass, ignoring the rest of his body laying there, then walked over to the anvil and penned her name across his forehead, claiming the bounty as hers. She dropped his head in the designated barrel with a wet, bloody splat, then walked over to the lake next to the Game building and washed his drying blood off her hands and sword. 

False walked back to the leaderboard and smiled at her name at the top. 

Every day, False checked the new bounties, hoping to find another target to hunt. She was only able to claim the bounty a few times before it got taken, but this was one of the lucky few. 

False landed on the top of a giant mushroom and tucked her wings back, eyes locked on ZombieCleo. She was updating the leaderboard with yesterday’s scores, completely focused—a perfect target. 

Silently, False spread her wings again and glided towards the back of the Game building, keeping her eyes on Cleo. She landed on the edge of the back wall, then jumped onto the stack of diamond blocks in the middle of the area and climbed to the top. She drew her bow back with a creak, then let the arrow fly. She watched as it embedded itself in her shoulder, causing Cleo to stumble back. 

Cleo pressed a hand over the wound to staunch the bleeding and looked up towards the source of the arrow. She locked eyes with False, then spread her wings and flew off. 

False smiled, then nocked another arrow and pulled the bow’s string back, tracking Cleo through the sky. She pointed the arrowhead to just ahead of where Cleo was and let the string go, shooting the arrow through the sky towards her. She watched as it punched a hole through Cleo’s wing, causing her to falter and fall back to the ground. False took a leisurely glide down to where Cleo had crash landed, still holding her bow. 

Cleo was laying on the ground, looking at her wing. Blood from her shoulder was pouring out onto her shirt and hand, which was failing to stop the flow. She looked up just as False landed. “Nice shot,” she said.

False nocked another arrow, drew back her bow, and aimed straight at Cleo’s heart. “Thanks.”

The arrow stabbed into Cleo’s flesh, her blood making another stain on her shirt. She coughed a few times before her chest froze and her muscles went slack, her body draining itself of life. 

False took out her sword and sliced her head off, scoring a line in the mycelium below. She went to pick up the head, then paused. 

How about I keep this one for myself? She thought. A trophy of all my hard work. I deserve it, She decided. 

She picked up Cleo’s head, then took off towards her home base. During the journey, she had the best idea of what to do with it. 

A perfect way to ward off competitors, She thought. 

When she arrived at her house, she went into one of her chests and got a fencepost, then went outside and stabbed it into the ground next to her front door. Then she raised Cleo’s head and stared into her glassy eyes before impaling it on the spike in her lawn. Cleo’s blood dripped down the oak wood of the post, leaving a burgundy stain in its wake. 

False smiled at her new decoration, then went inside, took out her sword and began to sharpen it in preparation for her next kill.

[loversdelusions]

How would Yandere Deku’s and Kirishima if you write for him , react if his obsession gave him a striptease :D

This took FUCKING FOREVER.

Izuku Midoriya:  🫀Tease...🫀

"I won't do anything, I-If you don't want me to, you know.."

His words were meant as reassurance. He didn't mean it as a challenge.

Unfortunately for Izuku, you did not take it as such a reassurance. He kidnapped you, he keeps you against your will and somehow he believes that it is completely within your right to decide if he gets to touch you? There was nothing in this situation you were in that was within your will. Yet he looked at you with such a look as if he were hurt by your flinch, or by your glare, or by the way you squirmed and fought while he tried to hold you.

"I won't do anything..."

That fucking liar. That fucking monster.

You were going to ruin his fucking life.

Izuku Midoriya, the number one hero, the man who admires his goodness more than anything. It could have made you laugh, still imagining he was the good guy after all that he'd done. His identity was so important to him, he tried to convince himself that he was a good person for not molesting you.

What a saint.

It's too bad that his delusions didn't matter to you. That you would prove to him that he was scum through and through, watch that fake innocent gaze in his green eyes snap. It was why you'd run through the closet he'd bought you, the lingerie section truly convinced you of his deluded nature. He really thought you'd come to accept this. You could only roll your eyes as the dark red strings and lace grazed your hand, a smile tugging at your lips, fully knowing how quickly he'd crumble.

You did not fall short, he'll give you that. Walking into his home after a long day of work the last thing he expected was to see the lights off. Darkness, something he was sure not to leave you in. It made his heart drop. Paranoia dug through his skin, and thoughts raced as fast as he did look for you, checking the doors, the windows, looking for signs of your escape. He couldn't believe there weren't any.

He couldn't believe it when he saw you, either. Short red crop top, neck height fastened at the side with string, unholy short black skirt riding up your thighs, teasing the sight of your flesh, held tightly by the thigh highs, heels, high and undoubtfully difficult to walk in, yet how could it be you held your self with such elegant confidence, sitting at the edge of his desk, red lights illuminating your breathtaking features. You didn't need to move, you'd stolen the air from his lungs.

"Uh..." His words jumbled in a sharp exhale, trying to regain his composure. His words failed him as you stood up, slowly pushing yourself onto your feet, dangerous eyes studying him, as if he wasn't the giant barrel of a man, as if it were you with the keys to his cell. He was mesmerized, by every move, every breath, your hand twisting his useless tie around your fingers, and tugging him, as if he were your pet, guiding him to his chair. And he listened. Let you move him like a pawn, even though his gaze bore into you unnervingly as if he could tell this was off.

You didn't seem to care, moving to the back of the office chair, your fingers, long claws trailing down his shoulder, as you walked to the speaker, away from his eyes, you could feel the burn of his gaze watching you. Your hips may have swayed more, your walk into a strut, and your hands climbing up your thighs and finding themselves rubbing soothing circles underneath your skirt, slow, and sensual, surely grabbing his attention as the skin of your thighs exposed more and more, yet to inevitable hide behind the flowy material once more.

You didn't waste the opportunity as you steadied yourself in front of the speaker, spreading your stance wide, and slowly lowering yourself to turn the speaker on. Izuku didn't miss the way you arched your back slightly, the way your fingers moved down to the power button, the way your skirt flared up just enough for him to see the way your thighs curved into the most fantastic ass, yet covered enough to make him grit his teeth. He surely didn't miss the way your thigh highs rolled down a tad, or the colour of the underside of your black stilettos, the dark red extenuating the darkness, bringing sight to your allure. How could he miss the smoothness of your back? It made his heart hammer against his throat as if he'd swallowed it, holding back his impulses.

It almost made him laugh when the song came on.

Your slow rise, as the music, thrummed through the air. He sat up, "Darling, what--" His voice died when you'd held up your hand, demanding his silence, he watched, your hands toying with the strings of your top as if you knew exactly when the strings fell apart, not a single moment felt as torturous as it did when your top rose, falling just right, allowing the bottom of your breasts to show, nothing more. as if it were made to tantalize him. As if you were made to tantalize him. His eyes followed your every move, hand slowly moving from the line of your skirt, upwards and up until the soft flesh of your breast, he watched as you drew a lazy circle over your nipple, toying with his resolve, hand dipping underneath your supple flesh, moving upwards, with a drop of the beat, harshly and swiftly gripping your neck. Your head moved back, as if in the act itself, your lips parted softly, a soft exhale when your hands continued up to your lips, swiping your bright red lipstick to the side, smudging the Madonna. Your hips swung slowly with the beat, the flounce of the skirt extenuating your movements.

Izuku bit his tongue, the shivers crawling up his spine as if it were your claws that were tantalizing him. He could feel himself push against his dress pants, desperate for release, desperate for you. He held himself back, he didn't dare move, didn't utter a noise, afraid to whisk this dream of his out of his reach. He could only watch helplessly as you lowered down, as if in a drop, and spread your thighs, the damned skirt obstructing his view. He tried to stop all of the raging emotions that were attempting to sully his expression. Though he could feel the dark blush creep up his neck, your expression remained nonchalant, as if staring into his mind, listening to the sick thoughts that devoured his patience. Izuku let out a breath, it felt thick in the room, sickly sweaty and warm.

Slowly, you brought yourself back to a standing position, fingers toying with the skirt that he'd grown to resent. Your hips slowly moved as if he were under them, and his eyes moved to watch your fingers play with the silver zipper, with beat the zipper turned useless, and the skirt fell to the floor. The click of your heels as you stepped over the material... a sight to behold. This time, when you had slowly moved down, hands exploring the suddenly exposed flesh of your thighs, he did not ignore the way your eyes drilled into him, or the absolute godlike vision of your skin against the dark contrasting red heels as you fell in the position, like a cat, knees spread, you moved your body, your chest, against the wood, raising your hips off the floor, then slowly, moving onto your hands and knees, crawling towards him, slowly, under his desk. He moved back, pushed himself and the chair back until he reached the wall, watching you move beneath the desk and closer to his legs, hands moving up his shins and parting his legs, up and down his thighs, and his patience which was already wearing thin snapped.

The moment you moved between his legs, his large hand gripped your face, the green eyes which just a moment ago beheld you in surprise and flustered innocence, stared at you with lust so dark it made shivers crawl down your skin, like a jolt of electricity, he leaned down to whisper into your ear. You could feel his flushed skin, warm and slick with sweat as if he'd been holding back from ruining you, awaiting you to come to him instead. "Doll, what have you done?"

Your breath paused in your lungs when his hands moved to dismantle the strings you'd made in specific consideration. This was only a tease. Nothing was going to happen tonight. Your nails dug into his thighs, "No touching," You hissed.

He chuckled, a dark sound disturbing your confidence. "You started the game, darling." He gave no option for chatter when he pushed his lips against yours, arm snaking around you and forcing you to move closer, to stand up in front of him. When you'd managed to push him off you, you'd realised he'd unlaced the strings on your neck, allowing your top to fall to your waist, and exposing your breasts to his hungry eyes. You groaned, pushing him away and standing roughly in your irritance. Grabbing your top with you, "I said no fucking touching. Fuck off, I am done."

The moment you turned, you were pulled back by your hips, ignoring your yelp, he pushed you on top of himself, holding your face close to his, by your neck while his leg rested between your thighs, forcing you to shift your weight onto his lap. You could feel his breath on your jaw, his hand shifting from holding your thighs apart to travelling up your waist, to touching your newly exposed skin. "No, you're not."

You grit your teeth, fear moving through you while you tried to swallow it down, hyper-aware of his large hand holding your throat. "Izuku, You promised." You might as well have spit the words out.

"The moment your skirt moved up, darling, you should've known my words were dust." He hummed, his eyes shining dangerously, you could feel the smile before you saw it. "You can't be expected to put such a lovely act together and not see the results, right?"

He pushed slightly against your ass and forced an exhale out of your lips. "Don't play a game you can't lose."

"Fucking liar!" You hissed, pushing away from him, to no avail. He laughed, placing a kiss on your jaw while his knee moved against you for friction.

Your gasp of pleasure drove a surge of passion through him."Fucking tease.."

Eijirou Kirishima:  👑 Worship 👑

Kirishima is not the kidnapping type, so if you ever get into a relationship with him, it will be stalk full of manipulation. Though his mind does not really seem to comprehend that you, too, are a sexual creature with your own desires. He really thinks that you simply go along with his wants because you love him.

So when you wanted to 'talk,' his mind went into overdrive about what possible thing he must do to keep you right next to him. "Peaches," He started, walking into the bedroom, you were sitting on the edge of the bed, hands folded, eyes piercing into him. "...Is something wrong?"

"Yes." His heart sank at the words. He felt nervous energy force his fingers to twitch. "Sit," With a simple gesture towards the wooden chair.

He followed your words, and you'd never seen your boyfriend move so quickly. He'd usually contest this, kiss you and try to make you giggle, but he was too nervous, instead he simply just sat in the armchair at the opposite side of the room, legs pressed together and back straight, tapping his foot nervously. "Peaches...Did I do something--?"

You raised your hand to silence him, but instead, opened your phone, sitting in silence, leg crossed over the other, forcing him to sit and stew in his nervous energy. His mind raced. He was surprised when instead of speaking the speakers in the room turned on.

It was almost dreamlike in sequence when you walked slowly to the window centred in the room, sunlight streaming through the window giving you the only warm light in the room, he watched the way you allowed the sun to bathe you in it's light, as if it were basking in your beauty, as if it were in the sky only so it may have the opportunity to touch your skin with it's light. It made Kiri pause, just to stare at the view. The white sundress seemed to stick to your body, underneath the rays, he could see the darkness of your lingerie wrapped around you.

You could see his mind go blank as he took you in. The pleasure which drove through you made your skin light on fire, when his eyes turned to yours. His breath faltered, it took everything out of you to hold back your smile. Instead, you allowed your heavy gaze to fall on him, the sleepy look you gave him already pushed his insides into a hot melting pot in his stomach. "Peaches that dress isn't--"

The minute the song's beat dropped, so did your patience for his morally high attitude. You moved towards him quickly, forcing his words to halt when you slammed your heel onto the wood between his legs, forcing him to pause and stare at you. You could see the vibrant red swirl with temptation, he parted his thighs, leaving room for you. You took him by surprise, pushing your forehead against his, and taking another step onto the chair, standing and straightening your posture, gazing down at him. slowly your hand gripped his hair and pulled him upwards, you could see him gasp, and watched carefully as you moved your hips to the rhythm, holding his head close to you (also for support, but hoping he wouldn't notice), bending slowly, one leg then the other, aware of your dress as it brushed against his skin. You dropped with the beat, on the tips of your toes. You couldn't help but laugh when he jumped, his hands instinctually moving to grip your waist. Wrapping your hands around his neck, you pushed your hips against him, rolling your body against his chest, fully aware of his hands moving to grip your ass underneath the dress he was growing to hate. Slowly, you moved against his chest, inhaling in his scent, making sure his eyes were fully on yours, and watched him shiver.

Kirishima might as well had cut his tongue, cause he sure as hell found himself speechless, somehow aware of your every touch, hell he helplessly watched your chest rise and fall with your heavy breaths. When you'd moved your hands through his hair, your legs moving to either side of him, stradling him as the music slowed, his eyes finally moved to the sundress, the flimsy straps holding it up were tempting his resilience, almost as much as you were while you moved your hips to the music, somehow irritatingly holding enough distance to toy with him, to graze him and steal whatever was holding him from tearing you apart.

His eyes were glued to your skin, the strap of your dress falling over your shoulder, it was enticing him, and he moved to tear it, but you were quicker, sitting up, pushing your forehead to his, and moving to kiss him. Kiri might as well had been salivating, his lips parting before you had even decided on what to do, ready to have you. His breath grew heavier when you leaned in, barely grazing the side of his mouth before you threw your head back, moving in a circle, and then back, only to push against his hard-on, and meet his eyes, before you were on your feet again, and his lap lay empty, clearly betraying what you were doing to him.

You almost laughed when you'd heard his frustrated sigh, the way that his crimson eyes followed your every sensual step as you circled him, the desperate way his hand attempted to hold onto your waist. The next time you approached him andreached over to part his thighs he moved immediately, unaware of the way he was reacting, his eyes bearing into yours unwavering. You stood your back to him, slowly bending over, hips moving to the music, he watched in pure awe as you moved down to a sitting position in between his legs, using his knees to support your weight, and this time allowing both the straps of your dress to slip past your shoulder. He wasted no time and reached to unzip your dress. And you let him.

Your hips swayed to the music, and forced a breath from him long held in when you'd dropped down and spread your thighs, hands moving to your knees, and slowly tracing the skin of your thighs, pushing lace of your dress further and further. You didn't need to look back to know he was watching, you could see his thighs shake slightly in contained excitement. Turning with your knee resting on the floor you threw him a dirty look, your hand resting on his thigh once more. His eyes followed the fabric of your dress as it slid off your shoulders, and down your arms, exposing your skin. Your boyfriend almost looked lost in thought, the only way you could tell he was here was the way his breaths started matching yours as his eyes gazed at your chest, rising and falling. You scoffed, and made sure your nails pushed against his skin as you stood, hand trailing up your thigh.

The music silenced. You took your shot, standing in front of him, and backing up, you slowly let the dress pool around your feet like gold.

The black and gold lingerie underneath felt tighter than ever around you as you watched for his reaction. It stunned you when his eyes widened and his lips parted, and he met your gaze with an innocently startled one. It made your confidence falter a slight, yet you pushed forward, reminding yourself the setting sun behind you reflected your sense perfectly. Kirishima gazed in awe. The golden detailing and jewellery shone in the sun, and he could have sworn he glimpsed a crown around your head in the heat of your majesty.

You stalked towards him as if you'd been walking on air, gracefully despite the constricting wear. Tracing his shoulders as you walked around him, you leaned in and he felt compelled to follow you in mere hope you'd allow him a taste of more than the sinful vision. Yet you didn't kiss him like he so desperately wanted. You walked past him, and he almost felt shame for following you with his head as if he'd been a puppy begging for your divine attention. It was only redeemed when you threw yourself into his lap, and he'd immediately held your body to his, cursing lowly while you threw your head back in laughter, unaware he was still enamoured by the act you'd blessed him with.

You slung your arms around his neck, and pulled him close, and he held his breath, as if you would deprive him of your lips had he let out a lustful breath. Except you only smiled, "Don't be a tease, honey. I didn't lace myself with gold so you can stare."

Saying he'd hungrily taken your lips was an understatement. It was thrilling, watching his eyes darken to black with desire.

Of course he wasn't going to stare. "Peaches..." He breathed after the kiss had stolen it from his lungs, you could feel the grip of his tighten, as if his skin was begging to harden around you, and you were a ta nervous he was about to let it. "I'm about to show you what worship really means."

[gothicbabydollz]

Please please please elaborate on the azriel x amren x reader blurb and amren making you eat her out while she rides your face!

Amren grinds shamelessly over your mouth, smearing her soaking slick across your face. She’s all you can smell, all you can taste. You’re moaning into her cunt, your lips and tongue attempting to keep up with her ministrations. Amren growls in frustration each time you stutter, the pleasure between your own legs making you movements sloppy. Your thighs shake and your tongue falters as Azriel continues to fuck you. He’s determined to keep you cumming on his cock while he stuffs you full. Well, until Amren says otherwise.

She lifts off your face, sitting back and scoffing at your attempt to chase her cunt. Your teeth bite into your lip as mewls climb their way up your throat with each rut of Azriel’s hips. You can’t help the short sob or the rolling back of your eyes. You’ve endured so much already, having climaxed more times than you even thought possible. It hurts so good. You can’t take it anymore yet you don’t ever want it to stop.

Amren strikes you. The stinging pain takes a moment to blossom across your cheek. Tears prick your eyes, Amren simply grips your wet chin. “Now, I know your mouth can do a better job than that.” You blink up at her while she runs her thumb over your lips. “I told you to eat my cunt like a good girl, didn’t I? I’m going to give you one more chance, little whore. Make me cum.” You nod as she settles back into her place above your face. Fear is a numb feeling in the pit of your stomach, knowing you’re not going to like the outcome if you don’t make the female above you, happy.

Amren hums her appreciation when your lips latch onto her clit, your tongue flicking over the swollen nub. Her hand slides into your hair, gripping tightly. She rocks her hips slowly over your mouth, letting you work your way around her sex. “That’s a good girl,” Amren groans in pleasure, the sound music to your ears. Moaning in response, your tongue laps at her cunt, teasing her entrance and darting over her clit. You’re eagerly drinking down her juices, watching her intently. All of your focus is on eating out the female sitting atop your face, Azriel’s pleasured grunting is a faint noise in the background as he uses your cunt as a toy. You watch as Amren tosses her head over her shoulder, biting out, “Fuck her harder.” She’s teasing you, testing you. Trying to find an excuse to torture you.

Your scream of pleasure is muffled as Azriel does exactly what he’s told. “That more like it?” He asks nonchalantly, barely out of breath, as if his cock wasn’t hitting your cervix with each thrust, making you feel as though he’s in your godsdamned throat. Screwing your eyes shut, your lips wrap about Amren’s clit, suckling harshly. She cries out in response, a flow of curses following shortly after as she grips your hair. “There’s my girl, fuck!” The climax building in your belly is a second thought. Amren’s close. You want her to release first, you want her to soak your face and loose control with the pleasure. “Just like that, gods, keep doing that!”

Amren stills, body locking up as her thighs squeeze tightly around your head. You don’t go easy on her then, wanting to get her back for all the teasing and overstimulating pleasure she’s given you. You continue to lick and suckle at her cunt while her climax barrels through her, dragging it out for as long as you can. Amren curses loudly, her release spurting over your face, into your mouth. That alone has your cunt tightening around Azriel’s cock. You’d do anything to make her do that again, you want to watch as her juices leak uncontrollably. You’re moan at the thought, eyes rolling back from the overwhelming feelings across your body.

Amren’s breathing returns to normal yet you know it’s taking effort to lift herself from your face. Wet and shining from her release. Amren laughs coldly, brushing back strands of her sleek, black hair, tainted with sweat. She’s watching you, reaching out to take your chin in her grip. You’re still whining weakly as Azriel stays sheathed in your heat, grinding slowly. “I knew you could be a good girl,” Amren purrs, leaning down to capture your mouth, to taste herself on your tongue…