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unhealthyfanobsession · 3 years

Note

Do you think you’ll continue with the lawyer Nessian fic. It was so amazingly written I’d love to read more! I love all your writing anyways I’ll be happy with anything❤️

Ok not *technically* a Drabble request BUT I’m not ready to commit to a full lawyer AU that happens in order however I did just drum up a part 2 that we’ll say is several years before the previous lawyer AU. Nessian teasing in a bar and Rhys being a dumbass.

FYI the lawyer Drabble I’m talking about can be found HERE.

“I’m in love,” Rhys slurred. Cassian, a decent bit bigger than his brother and two drinks behind him, had a gentle buzz so he could only surmise that his brother was well passed sober.

“Congratulations,” Cassian grinned, clapping his hand on Rhys’ shoulder. “May I lay eyes upon the future Mrs. Dumbass.”

Rhys stared at him flatly. Blew a laugh out of his nose. “She’s not marrying you, brother.”

Cassian snorted, casting his eyes around the elegantly decorated little lounge they’d stepped into for the night. Lounge, not bar. Because they were mature adults now looking to take the edge off after a long day of work, not college students looking to get fucked up.

It was different.

It was different because the cocktails cost $20 and were served in actual stemware instead of red solo cups. They were evolving. Growing. Cassian was a lawyer now and Rhys was supposed to be doing actual work for his dad’s company so… no more dive bars.

Now they frequented little lounges where accountants and lawyers and bankers sat in tailored suits and discussed… adult things.

It was all very civilized.

And yet here was his brother. Every bit the horny college student they were trying not to be. Oh well, old dogs and all that.

“End of the bar.” Rhys jerked his head to the left and Cassian grinned.

“Might be a little old for you, champ.”

Rhys wrinkled his brow and turned to look at the grandmother doing a crossword puzzle on the far left side of the bar. A martini glass in front of her. Good for grandma.

“Other end of the bar!”

Cassian smirked. He didn’t need to turn his head, since he’s noticed her the second she walked in, but he still did. Just so he could look some more.

“Ah, you mean the deliciously dishevelled leggy brunette with her suit jacket on the chair beside her who just ripped the pins out of her hair like they personally offended her and then laid them in a neat little pile beside her Kobo?

“Mmm,” Rhys grinned, “I’d like her to rip those fingers through my hair.”

Cassian rolled his eyes. “Go for it, brother.”

Rhys grinned wider. “I think I will.” He straightened up, ran a hair through his artfully mussed hair, and pulled on the lapels of his Gucci suit jacket until they were even again.

Cassian snickered into his Old Fashioned. Rhys could straighten his jacket all he wanted. He could pretend he wasn’t drunk all he wanted. It wouldn’t matter one bit.

Not with Nesta Archeron.

Nesta Archeron who hated men that stunk of trust funds and privilege more than anything else in this world.

This would be fun to watch.

Watch her try to ignore him at first. Eyes glued to the page of her book, hand reaching up to wave through the air like Rhys was an annoying fly she could swat away.

Rhys, to his credit, was a clever little bastard. He asked the bartender for a refill of her drink and set it down in front of her then sat himself one stool down from her.

He didn’t move her jacket to sit next to her, which would have had her going feral. He just sat there, waiting.

After a few moments Nesta let out an exacerbated sigh that Cassian could hear from across the room. There was his girl.

Well, not his girl. Not even a little bit his girl, but… someday.

Cassian decided that he was going to Marry Nesta Archeron the first time she kicked his ass up and down a negotiation meeting. It was a couple years ago now. He’d been young and new at his firm. She was young and new too, but the words learning curve were not in Nesta’s vocabulary. Everything she did, she did with perfection.

Including getting rid of men she didn’t want hitting on her.

She said something to his brother that made Rhys’ half drunk, cocky, smile fall halfway down his face.

Cassian would’ve given his left eye to know what she said in that moment. She had a knack for jumping at the jugular and Rhys… oh Rhys. So obvious.

After a few moments and the continual fall of Rhys’ face, Cassian decided it was time to intervene. He knocked his drink back and straightened out his own suit jacket. Armani, still overpriced and designer but not so obvious or try hard as Mr. Up On The Trends with his Gucci. Nesta appreciated classics.

Simple. Clean lines, solid colours, classic. Which was why it was so fun just how attracted she was to his half wild self.

Unlike Rhys, Cassian plucked Nesta’s light grey suit jacket up off the stool beside her and reached over her head to hang it on a coat hook at the end of the bar. Settling himself into the chair beside her like it was exactly where he belonged. Which it was.

She turned around with an indignant shriek and a fire-breathing snarl that narrowed into just a hard glare when she realized it was him. Touching.

“This guy giving you trouble, Nes?”

Rhys choked on his whiskey and Cassian fought his hardest to keep a straight face.

“I so don’t need your saviour complex right now, Cassian.” Nesta scoffed.

“No,” Rhys rolled his eyes. “She was doing perfectly well scaring off everyone in a 10 mile radius all on her own.”

Nesta smiled sweetly, “I was just playing your game.”

Rhys sputtered again. Looked up at his brother. “This devil woman that you apparently already know,” he glared, “is all yours. I’m going home.”

“Be sure to drink plenty of water!” Nesta sing songed after him. Rhys flipped them both off on his way out.

“What’d you say to him?”

Nesta smiled. A pretty, feline little thing. “He said he wanted to chat. Suggested 20 question, which is the lamest, oldest, crustiest line in the book. So I went first. Asked just how small his dick was that he felt the need to overcompensate with the swagger and the gratuitous displays of wealth. He thought he was quite clever to use his question to ask if I wanted to check for myself how not small his dick was and then I asked if his daddy never loved him and that’s where all of that machismo masking painfully obvious and deep seeded feelings of inadequacy and insecurity came from. I was going to offer him my friend’s number before you showed up. She’s an excellent therapist.”

Cassian laughed. Hard. For a very long time. He loved Rhys, but sometimes the kid could use a nice set down. It was always sweeter when delivered by a beautiful woman. Not to mention, Cassian himself had gotten the same ice cold rejection the first time he met Nesta. When he asked if she wanted to get a coffee and she looked at him like something she’d scraped off the bottom of her shoe. That Rhys was chased off so easily just proved he couldn’t take the heat.

“You know the walking trust fund, I presume?” Nesta boredly sipped the drink Rhys had bought her. And even that was somehow amusing.

“Only for the last couple decades or so,” Cassian grinned. “He’s like a brother to me.”

“Explains a lot.”

“Your insults are more impactful when you clarify which person is being insulted.”

“I was going for the two birds one stone method.”

“In that case, consider me wounded, sweetheart.”

Nesta scoffed, “Unfortunately not mortally.”

“Oh Nesta, if I weren’t here you’d die of boredom and you know it. No one else can run you up and down the courtroom like I can.” Now. Cassian grinned as he watched the word flash across her eyes. He’d never live that first blunder down.

Nesta rose an eyebrow. “Bold of you to assume you present any challenge whatsoever.”

Cassian signalled for another drink and leaned forward. “Alright, I’ll bite. Who in this entire city can give you more of a run for your money?”

“Vanserra.” Nesta looked him dead in the eye. And managed to keep a straight face. As if that wasn’t the funniest fucking thing he’d heard all day.

“Oh yes, Nepotism and Nepotism LLP certainly has us all shaking in our boots,” Cassian blew out a breath. “What are you working on now?”

“I’m working on upholding attorney-client privilege.”

“So, the Suncurser merger.”

Nesta looked up. “How did you-”

“Helion and I are old friends. I checked the zoning on the lots he was buying before the merger went ahead to make sure the expansion was even feasible. But, as you know, M&A isn’t my thing. So I may have… given him a referral.”

“Are there any rich playboys in this city that you aren’t friends with?” Nesta finished off her drink and pointedly didn’t signal for another. “And if you think I’m going to be grateful to you for sending this my way you’ve got another thing-“

“Helion is my friend.” Cassian repeated, cutting her off. “He believes in this merger and he wants it done right. You’re the best, Nesta. Why wouldn’t I send him to you?”

“It’s not just to get in my pants?” She narrowed her eyes.

Cassian laughed again. “Oh no, sweetheart. When you invite me into your bed it will have nothing to do with work. It’ll be because you’re tired of denying how much you want me.” Cassian leaned in closer, one hand resting on the back of her chair. “Tired of denying the thrill that shoots through your whole body when we lay into each other. In the court room or out.” His nose brushed against hers, just a little, and Cassian felt Nesta tense up. He smirked, mouth just inches away from hers. “Tired of denying how right this is.”

Nesta’s voice was rough, husky. “So your plan is to wear me down?”

Cassian smirked. “My plan,” his hand came up to stroke the silk covered expanse of her upper arm, “is to marry you, Nesta Archeron. But sure, we can start with wearing you down.”

***Feyre and Nesta look physically similar so you can’t tell me drunk Rhys wouldn’t hit on Nesta in a bar before realizing he’d made a terrible mistake and running away thank you***

Also tags yourself, I’m the grandma doing the crossword puzzle with a martini. She’s an icon and she is the moment.

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #drabbles open #nesta archeron #acosf #cassian #nesta and cassian #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #acotar

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glowingbadger · 3 years

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I loved the Ashe, Sylvain, and Hilda modern-day HCs. So….can I ask for….Marianne, Dima, and Claude now? They’re so so good.

Here's a quick list of the places I've touched on ModernAU stuff with these characters before, for anyone who's interested! General Modern HCs (Dimitri) W/ insecure Reader (Claude, Dimitri) W/ insecure Reader (Marianne) Soft HCs (Dimitri)

I'll try not to repeat myself too much, but the SFW portion might be a little sparse because I've written a good deal of my thoughts on that already :3

Marianne, Dimitri, Claude x GN Reader

Modern/College AU headcanons

SFW (not sfw under the cut)

Marianne:

- Definitely a veterinary student who has an incredible, intuitive way with animals. One of those "gets along with animals better than people" types. As a result, many others in her classes see her as aloof or difficult to talk to. Fortunately, when Hilda drags her to a party one night, you notice her keeping to herself and come to make casual conversation. It takes a bit for her to open up, but she's soon grateful for pleasant, relaxing company in the midst of the loud chaos.

- She needs a good amount of reassurance in a relationship, as she's so convinced you could do better. Marianne is totally the type to apologize for not being good enough for you, then apologize for bringing it up, then apologize for apologizing. But her love and admiration for you are so very clear. She'll shyly take your hand in hers, and just the way she looks at you, it's like you're every star and every sunset she's ever seen.

- Marianne spends some of her free time volunteering at a local animal shelter, and one of your earlier dates would involve her introducing you to some of the animals in her care. Here, it's like you see a completely different side of her- she's so much more confident and firm when she speaks to the animals, and she smiles so brightly and laughs adorably as she watches you attempt to make a good impression on them.

Dimitri:

- We've chatted about Modern! Dimitri a good deal so far- but I will double down here on the fact that, while he's outwardly extremely intimidating to your friends when you first start dating, you know (and they learn) that he's absolute Malewife material.

- He loves sitting on video calls with you and just staring at your adorable, lovely face. He's an excellent listener, and will gladly hear about your entire day from start to finish, even if you insist it was nothing special. He's just so soothed by your voice, and the chance to see you. While he's honestly not very good at social media in general, he does have a couple hundred pictures of you saved. Not to post anywhere, just to look back at with a goofy grin on his face.

Claude:

- Claude is the guy on campus that everyone likes, plenty of people want, but no one can really nail down. He seems to know everyone, but he's only actually close to a few good friends, and for the longest time, even they assume that he's the "doesn't believe in serious dating" type. It starts much the same with you- he figures you're interesting and cute as hell, so he may as well spend some time having fun and getting to know you. And then... the feels TM creep in.

- You'll be caught up in a sort of... friendly flirtation with him for a while. The kind where it would be easy to play off all of the corny innuendos and knowing glances as "just kidding around." Then, one night, after a long group study session or just lazing around with drinks and games with his friends, he offers to walk you back to your dorm. When you get caught in a sudden downpour and have to duck under the nearest building's awning for shelter, he gives you a strange lingering look that's so much heavier than any you've seen. And without a word, he leans down to kiss you. When you part, he's wearing a slanted smile, but he's fidgeting a bit when he says, "Hey, uh, Y/N. I wanna be with you- for real. So uh... how 'bout it?"

- Claude is just the most fun boyfriend ever. He's got an active and curious mind, so he's always game to try anything you're interested in, and you'll never be at a loss for date ideas. He's the kind who gets okay grades, though nothing incredible, but his brilliance shines in how he latches on to new information, turning a topic around in his mind until he's seen it from every angle. It's especially charming when he asks to hear about your interests or areas of expertise- he asks all the right questions and the conversation becomes lively just about instantly.

NSFW 18 + v

Marianne:

- You're definitely her first sexual partner (she hasn't even dated seriously until you), and she's going to take a long time to get comfortable freely exploring the physical side of a relationship. She's a big cuddler, once you've assured her that you like it too- she finds it immensely soothing to rest her head on your shoulder or on your chest, just listening to your breathing and feeling you warm against her. But as for sexual affection, she'll start slow, testing things by letting her gentle hands tentatively wander just a little further than before, or deepening your kiss a little more than usual.

- Best practice with Marianne is to let her be the one to suggest or initiate things, but to respond enthusiastically when she does so she knows you're happy with it and you want her as much as she wants you. Your approval and encouragement fills her with warmth she's never felt before, and a sense of bold desire she hadn't even known she was capable of. There's plenty of communication with her- there has to be -but in a way, that becomes its own sort of eroticism. Soft murmurs of, "is this okay?", "does that feel good?", or "can you take more?" mix in with affirmative sighs and moans, turning the negotiation of comfort into a wonderful, slowly escalating path towards satisfaction.

- She's absolutely mortified by the idea of sexting or sending nudes, but if she sends you an outfit she's considering and reply with a coy "You look amazing- can't wait to take that off of you" (honestly the cheesier the better with the pickup lines- being too smooth would intimidate her)- she'll only respond with a single blushing emoji, but you bet she'll be wearing that outfit to your next date.

Dimitri:

- Everyone on campus, including your friends/roomates see Dimitri as such a pure cinnamon roll that you might be surprised to learn he has a rather healthy sex drive underneath all of that sweetness and affection. Granted, he's definitely most likely to desire you when he feels emotionally close to you- but that won't stop him from fucking you nice and deep until your bed creaks. The first time someone overhears you practically screaming out his name, rumors start spreading that your ever-devoted Malewife is actually legendary in bed. It's mostly a raunchy joke, but as far as you're concerned, they're not exactly wrong.

- He's too nervous to actually save any of the spicy pics you've sent him to his phone, but that doesn't stop him from regularly scrolling back through your message threads to find them. Masturbating to porn is fine and good, but when he can look at you biting your lip as you show off your body to him, he pumps his cock and bucks his hips against his hand until he cums far harder than he's used to. Dimitri especially gets a thrill out of the implied part of this- the fact that you wanted to flaunt yourself to him like this and made sure that he would linger on the sight of you.

- A very fun game is to comment or imply something about how good Dimitri fucks you while you're hanging out with his friends. He stammers and turns bright red when you mention how, "Oh don't you worry, Dimitri keeps me nice and satisfied, don't you babe?" with your eyebrows quirked playfully. His buddies nudge him and laugh, and as timid as he appears about it, he'll need you as soon as you're alone together, and he'll hold you extra close and pound into you a little harder than usual.

Claude:

- Alright. Claude is hot, and Claude knows he's hot, and he has no problem using this to his advantage. He'll absolutely send you gym selfies, or raunchy messages when he knows you're with friends or family. During minor disagreements or when you're pretending to be mad at him, he'll slip an arm around your waist and nibble at your ear, whispering, "C'mon babe, don't be like that..." before pulling you close and kissing you until you can't think straight.

- He absolutely doesn't care if people overhear you- in fact, he'll tease you about it, murmuring in your ear that you can't keep moaning for him like that or you'll be heard. But the fact that he's fucking into you harder and deeper as he says it tells you clearly that he wants you to cry out for him. In general, he's pretty shameless about your shared sex life if you allow him to be. He'll practically strut out of your room to clean up in just his boxers, not caring a bit if your roommates get an eyeful. He's handsy in public as well (again, depending on your comfort with it), and will absolutely grab a handful of your ass while you're on a date together, or trail his hand up your thigh during a movie.

- Claude is adventurous and open minded about sex in general, as I've mentioned a couple times. Hell, he'll even send you a porn clip or a bit of smut, along with a brief "we should try this ;)"- and he obviously loves when you do the same for him. He sees no reason to be shy with his partner about your mutual pleasure. Communicating your preferences will make sure you both enjoy yourselves, and the process of even talking about it can be pretty hot on its own.

#marianne von edmund #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #claude von riegan #marianne x reader #dimitri x reader #claude x reader #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #feh #fire emblem headcanons #modern au #fluff and smut #fire emblem x reader #x reader

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poesparakeet-fics · 3 years

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A Lovely birthday present for @sapphicquill! A fic full of all her favorite things for my favorite person on the planet!

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fjord/Caleb Widogast, The Poly Nein - Relationship Characters: Caleb Widogast, Fjord (Critical Role) Additional Tags: Tickling, Teasing, Verbal teasing, Fjord’s a charismatic fuck, and will wreck a wizard, Kink Negotiation, Praise Kink, tickle kink, critickle role, Cuddling & Snuggling, Pinned, All Tieflings Are Knismos, Begging, Communication, Dom Fjord (Critical Role), Sub Caleb Widogast, Light Dom/sub Summary:

With their tiefling lovers away visiting their people, Caleb and Fjord are left alone in the tower. Caleb has an itch. A want. No, a need. If only he could bring himself to ask for it.

Read on Ao3 or here:

He should have just asked.

As agonizing as that would have been, Jester wouldn’t have even teased him about it. She would have smiled and opened her arms, inviting him in, and turned him into a puddle before she left. Clearly a better option than the one he was stuck in.

Molly would have teased him, sure, but his eagerness to get on with the thing would have made it short-lived, and the results would have been the same.

He might have even been able to rope both of them, if he really wanted it. Gods, did he really want it. Now they were both in Nicodranas for the week, and an unexpected call from the Cobalt Soul had emptied their home further, until it contained one unique set of marbles that rattled around in the emptiness. Caleb himself… and Fjord.

It was so rare that they were alone together, their social lives whittled away from the web of their found family to their own unique love and camaraderie. Caleb would never tell Beau about Fjord’s skipped workouts. Fjord would keep quiet about the many long nights Caleb would spend buried in books and surviving on whatever food his insistent little cats could entice him with.

They were intimate, though with the others gone they fell into the pattern of a slow, quiet midday fuck in the library rather than mind-melting tickle attacks.

As warm as their days together were, Caleb was feeling the absence of the others. Had he really become this dependent? Had he lived so long with the luxury of insightful tiefling lovers (with a crew of accomplices) that he couldn’t go more than a few days without? Evidence said yes.

Specifically, the way his nerves had ignited when Fjord poked his head into the library late that night.

“Caleb?” He waited for the wizard’s gaze, “Come to bed tonight, hm? It’s getting lonely.”

“Oh…” Caleb felt his face alight, “It’s been so late, I didn’t want to wake you…”

Fjord waved a hand with an affectionate grin. “I know. I’m not offended. I don’t care if you wake me, though. Come to bed.”

Caleb returned the smile, hoping the shiver that chased itself around his skin wasn’t visible from the doorway. “ Ja , ok. I will. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

~~~

Caleb would swear to himself, even later, that he hadn’t meant to wake Fjord. He’d stepped into his lovers’ bedroom with every intention of creeping over to the empty side of the bed and slipping between the covers, quiet as a mouse. Unfortunately he’d left his sea legs on a ship many months before.

The gentle rocking that he’d enchanted into the bedroom combined with pitch blackness and an exhausted mind sent him tumbling into a piece of furniture— a chair?— then over it and onto the floor with a clatter. He was upright again by the time Fjord roused.

“Caleb? Are you alright?”

“Ja, just clumsy.” Caleb assured him, hurriedly putting himself into the bed and holding perfectly still. “I’m fine, go back to sleep.”

His attempt to be inconspicuous was thwarted when one arm slung itself around his middle and pulled him in to spoon with a long, even sigh. “‘Kay.”

Caleb tried to relax into Fjord’s warm embrace, until the other man’s hand started to move. One broad, smooth palm stroked his chest, stomach, side, ribcage… all in firm, gentle strokes that didn’t tickle. At all . Caleb wanted to whimper and squirm, try to catch Fjord’s fingertips against a sensitive spot and earn some little zing of sensation, but he’d already woken him once. Instead he sat very still with his skin aglow with desperation until Fjord drifted off and his hand stilled. Caleb fell asleep not long after, still wholly sensitized and half-hard.

Between basic biology and want-filled dreams, neither situation had resolved itself by morning. In fact, as it did most mornings, his skin felt more sensitive as it awakened. Caleb hadn’t opened his eyes yet when he felt the press of cool lips against the heated skin at the back of his neck, sending shivers rattling through his thin frame.

“Good morning.” Fjord’s voice was a low, sleepy rumble that made Caleb shiver for entirely different reasons.

“Morning” Caleb returned through a yawn, stretching as best he could without wriggling out of Fjord’s embrace.

He found himself suddenly sharply aware of the placement of Fjord’s hands where they were wrapped around his torso, and the restraining weight of one muscular leg thrown over his hip. Still half asleep, he bumped against the embrace with a satisfied little hum before settling his own gangly form within Fjord’s larger one.

“What are you getting up to, today?” Caleb mumbled against the pillows, still wiping sleep from his eyes.

That’s when Fjord’s embrace suddenly tightened, his arms pulling Caleb in close while his leg stopped him from curling up to press him, stretched, against the length of his companion’s form.

“Well, you know…” Fjord yawned, “I’d thought with the tiefs gone you might like a little break from certain things, seeing as how they do get you pretty often. But I’m starting to think that was a mistake on my part.”

Caleb’s skin ignited and he squirmed, suddenly breathless. “I— wait —” For what, even Caleb wasn’t sure.

Fjord chuckled into his shoulders. “Aw, you don’t need to pretend, Caleb. I felt a little bad letting you fall asleep in such a state last night, but it was late, and I know how much more sensitive you are in the mornings.” With that he clenched his fingers, settling their tips on Caleb’s rib cage like needlepoints only to hold perfectly still.

“ Fjord! ” Caleb whined, but it was barely more than a wheeze. He fought the urge to squirm.

“Yes? Did you need something?”

“ Bitte .”

Another chuckle, then hot breath in Caleb’s ear. “Bitty what? Maybe we should make this a lesson in asking for what you want from people who love you. I can stand in for Jester and Caduceus.”

Caleb gritted his teeth, unable to even consider saying the word. He didn’t need to. It was so close . He let out a wordless, pleading whine. Fjord was one of the more susceptible of the nein to pleading.

One of Fjord’s hands tossed the blankets to the side and exposed a long flank of pale skin, currently bound by strong green limbs. The same hand started to float above Caleb’s side, fingers flicking to set off interspersed giggles from the trapped wizard.

“It’s not a burden, you know. Look how easy it is to rile you. Hardly a chore. I don’t even need to touch you…”

Caleb could only whine and giggle, eyes locked on Fjord’s floating hand. The half-orc’s other arm was still wrapped around Caleb’s torso, gripping the wizard’s arms tightly to keep them out of his way.

“…just imagine how bad it’s gonna be when I do.”

Caleb thrashed a little against his restraint with his eyes shut tight, half to hide from the teasing and half out of embarrassment over the squeaking strings of giggles he was producing without so much as a touch.

A smooth palm strokeed at this stomach in a move that would have been comforting had he been calmer, but instead his eyes shot open with a hiccoughing yelp that turned into a whine as the hand withdrew and started floating once more.

“You’re gonna have to say it, if you want it. I could do it just how you love it. Start out nice and slow…”

Fjord’s fingers started to drift again, his fingers skating a scant inch above the soft skin of Caleb’s stomach. Caleb’s eyes were open and locked in a wide, giddy panic. He was already getting breathless.

“…or I could get a little more serious…”

Fingers crooked and made a clawing motion over Caleb’s ribcage, making him squeal and kick his feet against the mattress.

“…or maybe a little beard action…”

“No!” Caleb squeaked, his neck collapsing backward. Fjord hadn’t done anything, but the knowledge that said beard was just out of sight and free to wreak havoc was enough.

“No? Why not?” Fjord asked, hooking one finger to menace above Caleb’s armpit. “Keep telling me ‘no’ instead of 'please tickle me Fjord’ and I might really stop. Just let you marinade for the rest of the week and tell the tieflings how bad you need it when they get home, hmm?”

“No-hohoho! Evil!”

“What’s evil?” Fjord asked patiently, chuckling at the frustrated sound it pulled from the trapped wizard. “Not my beard! You were singing its praises not too long ago. Remember that night? The one where Jester and I kissed you from head to toe?”

The sense memory lit Caleb up. He hid in the bicep of his trapped arm and groaned, feet mussing the sheets further.

“ Der teufel … you’re a fucking devil… they should have brought you with, to their tiefling retreat!”

“Careful, if those two had decided to make exceptions to the tieflings-only rule they would have packed you in a suitcase and served you on a plate.” Fjord’s fingers flexed in the air once more, and Caleb made a sound like he was dying.

“Hang in there, now, what if I were to grab that rope that’s tied under the headboard… and the paintbrushes in the bedside drawer… and I get real patient with your armpits to see how long you can take it.”

One cautious finger was set down carefully on the thin skin at the back of his armpit, too firm and still to really tickle, but Caleb sobbed into his bicep all the same. He felt Fjord shift.

“Are you crying ? Oh, I cannot wait to show Jester this new trick. How to make you wail and cry without doling out one single tickle?”

Caleb didn’t want to prove him right, but he couldn’t help the little wail that escaped. Jester didn’t need to learn to tease like this . Nobody needed to learn to tease like this. In fact, if Fjord didn’t stop teasing, Caleb was pretty due he was going to melt and be absorbed into the mattress like spilled tea.

“Fjord no , stop —”

Suddenly the pinprick sensation near his armpit was gone. The weight of Fjord’s leg was gone, as was Fjord himself. Caleb kicked himself upright, head on a swivel. The half-orc was already pulling on a shirt.

“What…?”

“I told you, if you kept telling me no, I’d stop.”

Cold shock slid down Caleb’s spine, his stomach dropping.

“ Please , Fjord!”

“Please what?”

Caleb made a frustrated sound, balling his hands into fists in the sheets. “Please do everything you just threatened to, you arschloch !” Then he felt a thrill of panic as he was pinned under the paladin’s gaze.

A wicked grin split Fjord’s features as he turned and stalked back towards the bed. “ Everything? Well, I was going to make you say the word, but that’s an offer I can’t refuse. C’mere.”

Whatever fight Caleb had found at the prospect of being abandoned drained out of him as Fjord pushed him backward and sprawled across him.

“So…” Fjord questioned, one eyebrow raised as his hand started to float again. “I’m afraid I can’t quite remember my list… gonna need some help from that keen mind of yours.”

Caleb groaned.

“What was that first thing again?”

It was a ruse. It was a trick. Caleb didn’t care. He was going to combust. His arms were already thrown up to hide his face, so from that hiding place he croaked “Start off slow…”

“Right, right… slow.” Fjord purred.

It turned out that there would be no going slow that morning, because the second his fingers started to skate around Caleb’s navel the wizard’s arms snapped down to protect his torso while he dissolved into breathless, pitchy laughter.

“Oh dear, you’re in big trouble, aren’t you? So riled up already.”

“St— nahaha— don’t tease! ”

“Oh… that was not part of the deal. What’s next?”

“ Nahaha— you know! ”

“Nope.” Fjord was nonchalant as he took the other man apart with one fingertip. “Sorry, don’t remember…”

Caleb hugged his ribcage tighter with one arm and pressed his other fist against his mouth. “Get ahahaha— little mohohore serious!”

His attempts to hide were universally futile. Fjord’s hands started to hop and skip around his torso, delivering a ticklish pinch and prod at every open space he could find without ever trying to get Caleb’s hands out of the way, a sharp reminder of how helpless Caleb was to stop him.

Caleb’s laughter kicked up in a way that left him without breathe to plead or squeal, so he settled for wrapping both arms around his ribs and rolling onto his side to put his face in the pillow.

“Nope.” Two strong hands grabbed his shoulders and flattened him out on his back. “No hiding. Watching you fall apart is the best bit.”

Caleb wailed at his exposure, his laughter leaving him weak enough for Fjord to slide his hands around his ribcage and dig in more thoroughly. Caleb arched his back and tossed his head in an attempt to drive the sensation away, but he could only cackle and accept his fate for the time being.

Fjord finally let him catch his breath a short while later, hands still in their attack position but with stilled fingers. “So…” he purred over the sounds of Caleb’s hiccuping gasps “What was the next one?”

Caleb had only a few breaths to collect himself, a little thrill of rebellion rising in his chest. “You were going to… hic… get the r-rope…”

“That’s right! Now I remember.” Fjord purred again, kissing a few stray tears of laughter away from Caleb’s face as he reached one arm between the mattress and the headboard to pull out a length of silken red rope (an absolutely mortifying gift from Marion Lavorre that had sparked quite the conversation about privacy) and wrap it around both of Caleb’s wrists.

The wizard sighed in relief as his deception went unnoticed, then quivered at the helpless stretch of his body. He hid his face in the bends of his arms while Fjord settled next to him.

“See, the only problem with this paintbrush idea…” Fjord mused, watching Caleb’s breath even out. “Is that you’re a fuckin liar and that’s not what I said next.”

Caleb managed one quick, panicked gasp as the accusation landed, but the unbearable scrape of a beard across the side of his ribcage drew it all out of him in a squeal.

“Aaaah! Nein! No! Stahp! ”

“Say ‘please tickle me Fjord’.”

“ Nahaha —” Caleb wheezed “ Can’t— can’t! Bitte!”

“Oh, that’s right, it was supposed to be your armpits, wasn’t it?” One strong hand gripped an elbow, pinning it next to one flushed cheek to stretch the thin skin beneath.

“ Nahahaha! ” Caleb shrieked as Fjord hovered his lips just above his underarm, warm breath already making the wizard’s entire body rigid with ticklish panic.

“Say iiiiiit” Fjord sing-songed, his words drawing out a fresh wave of hysterics. “Say it or I’ll stay like this forever…”

Caleb swallowed, gasped and hiccuped for a moment before finally choking out “ P-please tickle me, Fjord. ”

“Good boy…” Fjord’s voice was soothing, but he had to raise it to be heard over the screams of laughter that the gentle bump of his nose and soft brush of his lips ripped out of the wizard beneath him. “I am so proud of you. I’m going to tell Jester all about it, and she’ll be proud of you too.”

He kept it up for a few moments, even after he stopped showering Caleb with praise, applying a good nuzzle to the ticklish armpit before releasing the wizard to melt into a giggly puddle in the middle of his bed.

“Would have been so much easier if you’d just asked,” he murmured into ginger hair, “but you know that, didn’t you?”

#the poly nein #caleb widogast #fjord #tk fic #critickle role #tickling #tickle fic #poes prose

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chibinekochan · 2 years

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The dragon prince - Ft Diavolo part 7

part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6

Obey me! Monster tales masterlist

We continue our way down the mountain.

The path is much easier now.

We only stop a few times, mostly due to Diavolo wanting to show me alongside the path. Pretty flowers and cute animals are seemingly irresistible to him. It's unexpected but also something I like about him. His childlike expression causes me to smile as well.

Finally, we reach the main road around lunchtime.

We are extremely lucky and manage to hitch a ride with a farmer.

We eat in peace on the back of the cart.

Everything seems just more fun with Diavolo at my side.

Now that we are so close to our destination I feel a sense of loss. Knowing that our time will come to an end soon.

"Is there anything that is bothering you?" Diavolo eyes me with worry. "Not really, I was just thinking about meeting the dragon." I'm not even lying. "Are you worried about the upcoming battle?" Diavolo looks deep into my eyes. Almost as probing into my head. "No, I'm quite confident in my skills. Actually, I wonder that you seem so calm about it." This must be bothering him. Diavolo smiles at me. "I know what I have to do. I'm just grateful for this opportunity." I look over at him. He is so calm but I sense that he is uneasy. I put a hand on his shoulder. "We are in this together, don't forget that." He looks at me surprised and then chuckles. "You are right, thanks for reminding me."

Then the cart stops on the edge of the forest.

We thank the farmer and make our way towards the dragon's nest.

The forest is rather overgrown. Not a surprise. I'm sure most will avoid a dragon's nest.

The temperature is rising when we get closer to the nest.

Both of us are tense, focusing on what is ahead of us.

A part of me still hopes that we can somehow resolve this situation, but I know the odds are more than low.

Soon we reach a hill that is completely covered in ash. The dragon's nest.

Fire dragons need a lot of heat. Ash is the perfect ground to lay eggs for them.

The dragon approaches it. It's natural for it to defend its territory.

It glares at us, puffing itself up. Ready to shoot fire if we don't run away.

Diavolo nods at me.

I'm ready to fight but my sword stays where it is.

"Firedragon, I'm Diavolo. I came to ask you about the destruction of a village on the other side of the mountain. Did you do that?" He asks in a firm voice.

The dragon seems to glare at Diavolo. It lets out a single loud roar.

I don't need a translation for this response.

"Why did you do it?" I ask the dragon. It turns its flaming eyes towards me.

It roars with much vigor. It almost blows me away. It seems to be a painful sound.

Diavolo has a solemn expression. "I'm very sorry to hear that." He then turns to me. "They destroyed her eggs." I can't imagine how painful that might be. " You have my sincere condolences. But regardless you can't just destroy a whole village because of that."

The dragon doesn't sound happy with my response. I can't exactly fault it. "Exactly did you even get the humans that did that?" Diavolo stands firmly at my side.

While the dragon seems to get more irritated now. Its roaring gets angrier. "It doesn't sound like she cares. All humans are the same for her. She just wants them all dead." Diavolo seems pretty sad when he translates these words. "I understand that you hate humans for what they did, but you killed innocent people. There are only two choices left. Either you go or you die." This situation is past the point of negotiations. I can understand her reason but it doesn't excuse her actions.

Her response is to let smoke escape her nostrils and to try and claw me.

I easily avoid her attack and draw my sword. Her decision is clear to me.

I steel my resolve and get ready to slay her.

Diavolo stops me with his arm. "Please let me handle this." I look at him surprised. "You don't have to do this." This must be painful for him. Diavolo shakes his head. "No, I have to understand this part as well. Even if it's painful." His resolve is clear as day. "Alright, but if you get in trouble I will intervene." With that, I step backward. Still having my sword ready, just in case. "Thanks, I appreciate that." He smiles weakly.

Then he turns into his massive dragon form.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me!#omswd #obey me diavolo #obey me fanfic #obey me one master to rule them all #monster tales #the dragon prince

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dat-town · 4 years

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throw me to the wolves (and i’ll return leading the pack)

Characters: rebellion leader!Juyeon & thief!you

Genre: action, kind of enemies to lovers, historical (set in early 1900s like in Mr. Sunshine)

Warnings: some suggestive themes but nothing explicit, violence, minor character deaths

Summary: As the king’s thief, you had been assigned to get back the stolen map of the palace. It’s easy as pie but you would have never expected such consequences of your actions and you certainly did not expect Lee Juyeon in your life.

Words: 8.3k

Author’s note: title is a Seneca quote as far as I know (and I swear it will make sense), also the concept is very much inspired by TBZ’s Road to Kingdom Reveal and Danger stages.

Lee Juyeon might not have been of royal blood but he had definitely been born to rule.

The first time you met him, he pressed the blade of a knife against your neck, pinning you to a dirty wall in the outskirts of Hanseong.

"Not the nicest way to say hi to a lady," you remarked casually as if neither the closeness of his firm, strong body nor the sharp object grazing your skin didn't affect you. He was a lot stronger than you, you knew that, it would have been useless to go against him with brute force, so you had to be smart about it.

"You are very far from a lady," he sneered at you, dark messy hair falling into his fierce eyes.

Meeting his gaze, your heartbeat stopped for a moment in fear before blood rushing to your face tinted your pale cheeks in the colours of rosy sunrises. His eyes were murderous and he held his weapon steadily, so you were sure he wouldn't have hesitated to slice your throat if things didn't go his way. He was a dangerous man, you knew that already. With a reputation like his, you expected nothing less.

Although he might have had the reflexes and the wits, he might have been able to find you but you weren't going to just let him win so easily.

"Oh, am I?" you tilted your head nonchalantly yet careful not to hurt yourself because of your own hastiness. Then you elegantly lifted your right leg to link it behind his thigh almost as if you wanted to pull him closer. As expected, he faltered momentarily, blinking surprised at your bold and suggestive move, but that was all you needed to pull out your own dagger from its case on your leg and point it at his abdomen with a triumphant smile playing on your carmine lips. Oh men and their confidence, they always overlooked the skills of women.

Juyeon gritted his teeth, pressing his lips together firmly and as he was looking at you through narrowed eyes and you swore you could almost see the cogs in his head turning.

"Not that I don't enjoy this but what about we continue this discussion in a more civilized manner?" you croaked a brow at him challengingly to which the guy just let out a ridiculing snort.

"Well, you could have thought of that when you robbed me," he remarked almost as if he was waiting for you to deny it. But you just shrugged, unbothered.

"Stealing from a thief can hardly count as a theft."

"But it doesn't change the fact that I want my possession back," the young man retorted and you cracked a smile at that. That wasn't unexpected, of course, he wanted it. A lot of people desired the same thing in those chaotic times.

"Well, I don't have it with me but if you are willing to pay me more than my current client I might consider giving it back. I won't risk my life for nothing. Not even for that handsome face of yours," you teased pressing his buttons on purpose, testing him but the guy let out another snort, this time with a roll of his eyes. He clearly didn't appreciate you joking around but you were dead serious about your offer. In this kind of business you were dealing in, betraying a client had a high price.

"What about you giving it back nicely and I will forget about this little incident?" he offered you a chance to come clean and there was a dangerous edge in his voice, a 'because if you don't...' kind of threat. Oh, so he was the revengeful kind. It didn't really surprise you but he also wasn't the first man promising to ruin your life. But also because of that, his words could not scare you.

"What about I start screaming and men will come and save me from a pervert who pushed me against the wall?" you asked and from the flinch of his mouth you knew you had won this time. Because Hanseong might not have been the most righteous place of all, men still liked to play the hero if a pretty girl called for help. Juyeon must have known this as well, so his silence made you smile. "What about we play by my rules? Be at the Eastern altar of the Buddhist temple by the time the bell rings last at midnight and we might make a deal if you bring enough cash."

“Aren't you afraid that I will just take it?” he pondered the thought but he should have known better.

“Aren't you arrogant to think I would let you have it so easily? So what will it be? Should I scream?” you provoked him on purpose and did not like his smirk one bit. But at least he pulled away, lowering his knife, slipping it back to its place while his gaze wandered down to your rolled up skirt and the dagger you held in your hand.

“There are better ways to make you scream,” he said hoarsely and you couldn't decide whether it was supposed to be a threat or he was just being cocky. But before you could have questioned his motives, he swiftly climbed over a wall, disappearing into the shadows.

Lee Juyeon was fuming. He hated to lose and for some reason, meeting you felt like a slap. He didn't like that you had something over him, something that he really needed, so he had no choice but to cooperate, something he really hated to do with people he didn't trust and he certainly loathed your fleeting loyalty. Your kind, who didn't believe in anything, always chose the side which seemed more favourable, was the worst in his eyes because you two might have been criminals just the same but at least he did it all for a reason, a greater cause.

"Did you get it back?" Changmin greeted him excitedly as soon as he stepped into their hideout but Juyeon didn't spare him a glance, he went straight to their safe.

"She didn't have it with her," he murmured grumpily and mindlessly but the other boy was quick to catch on that tiny detail.

"Wait... she? It was a girl that almost broke Chanhee's nose?" he gasped to which the guy he just mentioned threatened to throw the closest object at him which happened to be a stolen jewellery box.

"Thank you for the reminder," he spoke up ironically sweetly.

Juyeon just shot them a disapproving look.

"Yes, it was a very annoying girl," he said, blood still boiling because of the fact that this unknown girl managed to break into their hideout and steal the map of the palace. They worked too hard to get it just to get it taken away by a pitiful thief.

"We will get it back, don't worry, but we can't make it too easy for her because then she might get greedy. Get some of the boys. We are going to pray tonight," Juyeon said as he fixed his sword on his side.

Changmin and Chanhee exchanged a knowing look but neither of them objected. They knew better because if Juyeon was good at something other than having a tongue as sharp as his blade, that was planning. He just didn't like when things got out of hand.

The temple was eerily quiet moments before midnight. When the bell of curfew woke up all the birds that flew away, Juyeon stepped out of the darkness as well, making his way slowly towards the altar but just as he stepped inside the temple, a familiar voice echoed all around.

“Aren’t you curious why I chose this place?” came the rhetorical question from somewhere in the shadows. “Because the acoustic is so perfect that every little step can be heard clearly. So you better leave your boys out and come in alone.”

Juyeon gritted his teeth and signalled to the others to wait outside. He hated that he was outsmarted by you. Not because you were a girl, he prided himself in the fact that he didn't care about that. He didn't like anyone crossing his plans and you were doing that as if you had the time of your life waltzing through his chess board.

He took careful, calculated steps inside the temple. He halted for a moment when he saw you sitting cross legged in front of a golden statue of a deity. He himself had never been religious, no god had given him a reason to believe, so he believed in what he could see and experience: himself and his group.

"Let's cut to the chase. I brought the money," he said, throwing the bag of coins between the two of you.

You hummed, acknowledging the heavy weight of the bag. But if you wanted to be honest, you didn't really care about money. Sure, it was a good safety net in case your previous clients turned against you but money couldn't save your life, you could have done nothing with it dead.

"Why do you need the map of the Palace?" you roll the sheet of paper in front of you, so both of you would see it: the pretty architectural plan of the most important building complex of the empire.

"Isn't it obvious?" Juyeon croaks a brow at that, glancing down on the paper and the candles nearby, wondering whether you would threaten him to set it ablaze if he wasn't cooperative. If you were arrogant enough to think you could be faster than him.

"Hm, no. I can think of multiple purposes," you told him lulling the options in your head. “But you don't have a good thief. If you had instead of trying to negotiate with me they would steal it back, so I guess you don't wish to rob the treasury. Then again you would have much easier ways to get inside if you would like to free a prisoner, so that leaves me with one option: you want to kill the king. Or someone as important as him."

Him, that puppet king so hungry for power that he didn’t even notice how his advisers controlled him.

The corner of Juyeon's mouth twitches. No matter how much he tried to act nonchalant he was annoyed how well you figured him out. His silence was enough of an answer for you nevertheless. So with a content smile on your carmine lips, you tilted your head in interest, gaze fixed on his sharp lines even in the dim lit temple.

"You know, rumours say that you are the bastard son of the late king," you told him paying close attention to his reactions but Juyeon stayed unfazed.

"And you think I will tell you if it's right or not?" he let out a mocking laughter but you weren't one to take it to heart.

"It was worth a shot." you just shrugged, then looked down on the map he so desperately wanted. "I will let you have it for free. On one condition."

"Then it's not free," he corrected you but the way his mouth tilted with annoyance but eyebrows raised in curiosity, he couldn't have been that bothered.

"I want in," you told him, clear and honest, confident. "If you really want to kill the king, I want to join."

For the first time that night the guy seemed really surprised and he didn't hide it. He looked at you as if you thought killing was a children's game.

"That's rebellion, you know, right?"

"We're both criminals, you know, right?" you retorted and he stared into your eyes, cold fire burning in his dark orbs. Moments passed like this, in grave silence and then...

"Accept her freaking condition. We do need a good thief," someone yelled from outside and you let out a chuckle. At least someone was smart on that team, you liked him already. Unlike the infamous Lee Juyeon.

"If you ever just think about betraying us, I'll kill you myself," he gritted his teeth but you merely smiled at him. You had no plans on betraying them as long as they got rid of the puppet king. And your unpaid debt.

"Understood," you stood up, pushing the map to his chest and grinned at him. "Instead of sulking, introduce me to your boys."

The notorious group was unlike any other than you had met before. They seemed more like friends and family than allies from the way they acted around each other. Of course, you weren't taken to the headquarters right away. You were taken to some inn where a guy named Changmin who seemed the most open to your arrival checked whether the map was real. They also stood guard one by one during the night as if you wanted to kill them. Gosh, it was four against one and Mr. Almighty thought girls weren't a match for him.

You immediately hit it off with Changmin over the fact that you had punched someone called Chanhee in the face while stealing the asset from them the last time. Sangyeon was kind but careful from the beginning. But Sunwoo and Juyeon seemed more wary of you but after you gave the last chicken wing of yours to the younger, he softened, so only their leader was hard to crack. You didn't exactly blame him, he just tried to keep the others safe even if he did it in an annoying way.

"Let's get one thing right: I don't trust you. Your kind, only working for money as if that was your god, not believing in something, that's the worst," he told you one evening, right before you were about to meet the entire team.

"I don't have the luxury to believe in anything else than myself. Never had," you looked him straight in the eyes, no tremble in your voice and then, for the first time since you knew him, Juyeon's eyes had a kind of understanding in them as if he knew what you were talking about.

The next day you were heading towards a temporary base and while the guys warned you about possible checks and guards on the road, neither of you expected any connotation. You travelled on horse backs with a farm-wagon like some nomads trying not to draw attention but each of you were known and wanted criminals, so it was almost inevitable to get on someone's bad side.

"Where exactly are we going?" you complained when you noticed that you took a turn that led backwards from where you departed.

"To the base, like we said, we just don't want unwelcomed guests there," Juyeon gritted his teeth, tilting his head towards the mountains. You didn't see anything special in them but he must have been aware of how ambushes around there worked because it didn't take long for the men to show their faces… or well, their intent. The first arrow pierced into the ground only a few steps away from Sunwoo's horse's feet, scaring the animals and alarming all of you. You looked around, drawing your daggers from your belt but you didn't see anyone in particular. The attack must have come from the mountains, from behind the rocks and the first one was soon followed by another again and again arrows raining down on you like a summer downpour.

"Into the woods! Right now!" Juyeon yelled and everybody followed his order without questions asked, leading the horses among the trees, into hiding. You tried to keep up and follow the guys but it seemed like you had lost their sight while watching behind your back too, checking on the approaching attackers. Eventually you decided to let your horse go, far into the woods, away from the danger on its own as you tried to hide from the men. You were like a shadow thief after all, you were good at disappearing into thin air but not if you had an animal three-four times your size with you. You hid behind a rock covered in green leaves, wondering whether you should have climbed the bamboo trees instead when you heard the steps nearing. You suck in your breath, holding it in to not make any noise while mentally cursing Lee Juyeon and his gang for setting you up. The king must have offered a nice sum of money for proving you unfaithful. Why else would they have left you behind?

Just as you thought you were by yourself, a hand clamped over your mouth, pulling your body close to his.

"Keep quiet and follow me," Juyeon, that impossible guy, muttered before slowly taking his hands off you and yanking you towards the growing bushes in the middle of the bamboo forest. There, between two ordinary looking branches he crouched down and climbed into some kind of hole that was unnoticeable from afar. You followed him, knees and hands dirty by the time you got to some kind of cave where you could stand up finally and you blinked, trying to adjust to the dark.

"Welcome to the base," you heard Changmin's cheerful voice and he lit a lamp, filling the cave with light where everybody was safe and sound. Seeing that and how Sangyeon was in the middle of treating an arrow scratch on Sunwoo's arm, you let out the breath you had been holding this whole time. Back there, you really thought for a moment that they betrayed you already and while lack of trust saved you quite a few times, this time you weren't proud of doubting them already. Not that they had any sentimental reason to get you to safety, they needed you for their mission, only that, you knew that and refused to believe otherwise.

However, the confession that fell from your lips that evening while passing the pot of jjigae around was more out of a sense of fairness than guilt.

"You told me you hate the kind that works only for the money, right?" you met Juyeon's sharp, dark, ever so telling eyes by the campfire, keeping your voice low enough, so only the two of you would hear it.

"I don't really have much choice. I work for the king to pay off my family's debt. It's this or prison and if I can make some side money like that, why not?" you shrugged, not looking at him. You weren't curious about his reaction or opinion, you told yourself. You didn't tell him to pity you.

A few long moments of silence passed while you pretended to cool the food down while stirring until Juyeon spoke up.

"Then why are you betraying him?"

"Isn't it obvious? A debt to the king has no limit, I would have to work for him until the day I die, he would never be satisfied with less. I want my freedom back," you told him, honestly, which was received only by a hum but you were glad that he didn't drag the topic out, he didn't ask about the reason behind the debt.

After that day, you were more involved in the planning phrase of the upcoming missions and eventually you met the whole team. You went out to steal this and that with Chanhee, playfully commenting on how pretty his nose was and grew totally fond of Haknyeon who made the best noodle soup you ever ate. The more missions you had been a part of, the more time you spent with them and away from the castle, the less chance you had to go back and beg for mercy if things went wrong. That was your original plan: give it a chance and retreat if it didn't work out but you had to realise that these people didn't have A and B plans, this was their one and only fight and they believed in it. It made you want it to succeed even more.

"We don't do this to rule," Changmin told you one day, after practicing sword fighting. "Nobody here, not even Juyeon desires the throne. We do this for the oppressed people, for those who suffer the most under this unfair regime."

It sounded too noble to be real but you believed him. Even more so when you heard that their takeover plan considered the loss of people and that they wished to get over with it with the least victims possible. That was why they needed the plan too: to know the best path to the throne room and the king's and his advisers' rooms without getting in the way of many guards. You also needed to know where and when the soldiers did their regular checks in the palace, so your plan's next phase was to observe the place. Chanhee has some connections and you could have your hideout in a courtesan house close to the royal quarters.

"Change," Juyeon said as he put a pile of pastel green dress in front of you. You looked down with clear disgust on your face before looking back up at a disgust.

"Are you for real?"

"You can't walk into a courtesan house dressed like that. You are a girl," Juyeon's voice was authoritative and a bit tense, you scoffed.

"Wow, now you're saying that," you rolled your eyes at him, still grimacing even when you were told that it was expensive to get said dress. In the end, you had to admit, it was the plan possible way to get in, so you picked the clothes up with a sigh and walked into a further alcove to get changed before your departure. It had been a long time since you wore skirts, those weren't too practical for climbing or fighting, so you preferred pants and anything that made it easy to move quickly and comfortably. So it felt strange to wear something like this again, not to mention it was probably silk based on how soft it was against your skin and you probably had never worn something as expensive as that. You ever let your hair down from the usual ponytail that made sure it didn't get in the way, so you looked every bit of a decent lady when you stepped out.

"Wow," Youngjae gave voice to his awe the moment he saw you and Sunwoo had to nudge him in the side to close his mouth.

The boys were either shy about it or similarly amazed, only Juyeon didn't really react. He barely glanced your way before telling everyone to hurry up. You rolled your eyes at his obvious behaviour and stuck to Changmin’s side on the way to the courtesan house. It would have been too conspicuous if everybody went together, so you formed smaller groups.

The plan was to get everyone to the new base before midnight and observe the palace for the next few days in turns. To make it even more believable, in public you had to act as if you were one of the girls working in the courtesan house, that made it less suspicious for the guys to visit you either and you didn’t care about your reputation much anyways. Not that a lot knew you, the faceless shadow thief, anyways. During the next days you gathered enough information to know when it would have been the best to attack but there must have been a whistleblower around because soldiers raided the courtesan house one of the evenings.

“They closed off every exit and entrance, we cannot get out without being caught,” Sangyeon said while Hyungseo looked out the window, confirming that there were soldiers outside as well.

“Chanhee says they are checking every room where there’s no business going on,” Changmin closed the door behind him. You were on the top floor, so you had advantage in time while the soldiers were busy checking beneath.

“Business?” Youngjae furrowed his brows, confused and got a smack in the head from Sunwoo.

“You know,” he emphasized making hand gestures that almost made you laugh despite the tense situation.

“Then hide and let’s make it look like there’s something here they don’t have the right to see,” you said pulling the fancy hairpin out, letting your locks fall onto your shoulders as you threw your red robe onto the ground, leaving a bit of a mess.

“Oh my gosh,” Youngjae shrieked, scandalized and turned his back on you, deciding to hide inside the closet followed by Sunwoo while others moved behind the curtains.

“Come on, I can’t put on a show alone. That would be even more suspicious than having a tea party here,” you complained, heartbeat drumming in your ears as you heard the approaching steps echo from the stairs outside. You climbed on top of the bed that faced the door and raised a brow at the two guys staring at you as if they didn’t believe you were alright with what you had just proposed.

“Showtime, boss,” Hyunjae decided and literally dragged Juyeon’s jacket off him before drawing his sword out, he stood behind the door in case the soldiers would have come inside anyways. That left only the team’s leader, the guy who had once said you weren’t much of a lady, in front of you, looking like he had some internal conflict.

Ridiculous. It was just a fake act, even if he was terrible at pretending, he could have made an effort. You weren’t a bad face to look at, so he really could have at least not suffered so visibly about having to get close with you. Maybe you just imagined him cursing under his breath, maybe he really was that frustrated but at least you didn’t have to force him to get on the damn bed and unbutton his shirt a bit himself. Great.

“Could you not act as if it physically hurt you to touch m–” you muttered under your breath, annoyed but Juyeon cut you off with a simple movement. He climbed over you, hovering over your body and slid a hand onto your neck, angling your head just right for a kiss that never came. Your lips parted in surprise but his only grazed against it slightly, your breaths mingling in the air while his piercing gaze shot right through you. It felt burning, the way he looked at you with those feline eyes from so close. You could practically feel the heat of his body, his skin scorching against yours – or was it you? – and your heart picked up its speed once again. The wait was nerve-wracking because you felt the tension stiffen in the air while you listened to the thuds of doors opening and closing, soldiers shouting.

When the door your room opened, revealing three men in black behind it, you pretended to be shocked and automatically reached to rearrange your clothes while Juyeon turned his head lazily towards the intruders.

“Who are you to disturb me? Did I not pay enough?” he yelled at the soldiers who exchanged knowing looks, but after looking around for suspicious signs, they indeed retreated.

You let out a breath when the door finally closed again and tried and failed not to roll your eyes at how fast Juyeon pulled away. Hyungseo cleared his throat and said something about seeing the two of you slightly undressed in a bed scarring him for life and one by one all the guys came out of their hiding place, only making comments about the recent events behind your backs.

After the visit of the soldiers, the tense atmosphere slowly dissolves into something like anticipation and determination to get done with their plan as soon as possible. You already had a good idea about the daily routine within the palace but with how frequently they changed their guards it would have been almost impossible to get through them without drawing too much attention and that was the least you wanted. If the royal guards knew about your arrival, you would have been too outnumbered to actually do anything, much less to get to the king himself. But you had a good card in your favour.

"So I will be taking the map back?"

"Right. If we have at least a bit of luck, the king and his men only know that you came to get that. Let's say you had trouble getting your hands on it..." Sangyeon explained which made you scoff out loud. You didn't mean to look down on them but it was ridiculously easy to get the map. Sure they had stood guard and they kept it locked away but a group of about ten guys was nothing you who had been robbing much more secured places than their bases. The most difficult part was to actually find them, after that it was like a children's play. So it somewhat hurt your pride and reputation as a thief to admit you had to waste days until you got it.

"Sure, we can say that I tried to seduce your boss to get the map here," you shrugged and glanced at said guy and knew that despite your nonchalant behaviour your words provoked him based on the way he clenched his jaw. "That would explain even if one of the guards recognized me. Though I don't see much of a chance for that. Although this much time would have been enough for you to get what you wanted from it, so the king will be displeased."

"Will you meet him in person?" Haknyeon asked since that was crucial information regarding your plan. If you were about to meet the king, then they must be there, too. But no, you only met the king once and the memory sent shivers down your spine. You were dragged in front of him, clothed rugged, dirt and bruises all over you as two guards held you. You weren't proud of how you had been crying but that day, you were sure you were about to die. As a daughter of servants in the royal palace, you had no way of providing a better life for yourself. You weren't only a subject to the king but his slave. When you were born that way, there was no chance of getting out. Born as a girl you couldn't become a guard, a soldier or a scholar. It was a time when the higher you could go was becoming a concubine but you had no intention of lying under the king or a prince. You would have chosen death over that.

But no, the king must have wanted something since he didn't kill you with your parents when he learned about their betrayal, about how they sold information about him to his brother. No, he took your life and made sure to form you to his will, to make the perfect little thief and spy for him in exchange for letting you live. But he was naive to think that you would be loyal to the murdered of your parents. Because he might not have been the one to draw the sword but he was the one who gave the orders, him and not his stupid advisers who made your country rot and the people suffer.

"Probably not. He usually gives me orders through his right hand man," you said, knowing too well that said man had his temperament to match the king's. They would beat you just enough, so you could steal more for them. Maybe break only your left hand to cause enough pain but not turning you incapable for them. You were an asset, nothing more and you hated it.

"What will happen to you because of your latency?" came the next question and gulping down your own fears, you waved it off, forcing a confident expression onto your face.

"Don't worry about me and break into the king's quarters like you should," you told them, clear as the sky was on summer afternoons you had liked as a child.

The truth was, everybody knew what happened to those who displeased the king. It wouldn't matter that you bring back the desired map. If you were late, it was the same as not going along with the order.

"You should have someone to be there with you," Juyeon spoke up for the first time for a while, his gaze fixated on the map without a fail and it made the corners of your mouth twitch. It almost sounded like he cared.

"Are you worried about me, Lee Juyeon?" you raised a brow at him, cunningly like a tease but when he looked up and your eyes met, the words froze onto the tip of your tongue. There was something sad in his eyes, something you had failed to notice before. As if he understood you more than you would have thought.

"Of course, we are all worried about you!" Changmin said vehemently and you tore your gaze away from the raven haired boy to turn to him with a grateful smile.

"Then, focus on not getting yourself killed first. I can take care of myself," you claimed and kept acting like it through the meeting, deciding on the upcoming Lotus festival celebration's night for the attack. There might have been more guards around then but with more guests in the palace, it would have been easier to blend in. No to mention that the king being drunk could probably help too.

It was a good plan, one you believed in. One that could finally bring you peace and freedom. You didn't want to delude yourself too early, so you tried not to think too much about it. If the mission wasn't successful you would have been killed for sure since what you were about to do was treason and no traitor could live in Hanseong.

It was a two way street then: freedom or death. Free from the king's chains either way. Yet, the night before the Lotus festival, you found it hard to sleep. You were fidgety, even snapped at Changmin when he tried to make a joke about you finally looking like yourself in your regular clothes instead of the courtesan one. You apologized and he understood, everybody was tense after all but it showed differently. Juyeon for example was even more closed off and quieter than usual. You didn't expect to run into him at night, though.

It was eerily quiet in the corridors and you just wanted to get some fresh air, outside of the suffocating atmosphere of your room. Meeting him by the gate, however, wasn't the plan.

"Are you ditching us?" he asked in a hoarse voice, back leaning against the brick wall as soon as you passed by him like wind. His voice was more passive and sad than angry and you remembered how he warned, threatened you to kill you if you decided to betray their trust. Sure, you could have ratted them out, saving yourself but did he really trust you so little?

"I don't know. Should I?" you retorted just for the sake of it because it was ridiculous: his suspicion of you even after all this time. But he didn't answer, so you rolled your eyes. "I just needed some air. Just like you, I assume."

Juyeon seemed to complement over your reply but he must have deemed it good enough because he turned his deadly gaze away. You didn't intend to have a heart-to-heart talk with him but since you might die tomorrow, it was your last chance to ask questions like:

"You already know my reason for treason but what's yours? And don't give me some crap like for a better and fair future," you turned to him but you were careful enough to look around before talking about something like that in public.

However, Juyeon either wanted to avoid answering or simply didn't like the place as he bob his head towards the courtesan house and as his sign, you went back inside, finding solace in your empty room. It had been a long while since you had been alone with him and you remembered what happened here the last time when you were this close… even closer. Now you both sat on the ground, backs to the wall, no touching, no smart retorts, no audience.

"Have you heard the story of the Crown Prince?" Juyeon spoke up but his question made you furrow your brows.

"About Prince Hyunjoon? What story?" you wondered out loud as confused as you were. Prince Hyunjoon had been sent to study in a prestigious academy as it had been advised to the king but it was probably not for his own good, there were rumours going around that he had sent the boy away because he feared he would try to take his throne from him. He had grown to be paranoid.

"No, not him. The first born prince," Juyeon corrected you and that made sense, you couldn’t recall anything else that was interesting regarding the next ruler of the country. You believed that after his father’s death, even if he was inexperienced, he could make a better king. He was said to be kindhearted after all.

"Ah, the prince who died almost 20 years ago?"

Your question had been left hanging for a few long moments and you even turned to face Juyeon, wondering whether he heard up but what he said next made your eyes grow comically wide.

"He didn't die,” he claimed so sure of himself that it left no doubts even though it was already crazy. “But he has always been unworthy of the title of the crown prince."

"What do you mean? And how do you know?" you sprouted questions because in that moment you could do only that, even forgetting how it came up in the first place.

"You see, the crown prince was indeed the son of the queen but just as the king wasn't faithful, she wasn't either. She had her child out of wedlock but raised him as if he was the kind of royal the king desired,” the boy continued quietly, looking down at his hands, playing with a ring on his pinkie finger. “The king figured out and he was furious. He got the queen killed but the boy was rescued by rebels. He was only six at the time but from one day to another, his father who had never been a kind man became his biggest enemy, so he had grown up seeking revenge.”

You had listened to this story, his story, you were sure, and you couldn’t have been more shocked. You knew that the king was an awfully temperamental man but killing his own wife and a child? And these days he got drunk and had multiple women in his quarters? It made you sick.

“That’s my reason for treason,” Juyeon added slowly, quietly, almost gentle and for the first time you wanted to tell him something reassuring, something so unlike you but it wasn’t your place to pat him on the back and tell him everything would be alright.

“I… I never knew. I have grown up in the palace but I have only heard that the first prince had died and his death broke the queen’s heart, too,” you whispered, suddenly feeling naive but who would have thought?

“Not many people know. He hid it well,” the boy gritted his teeth, then exhaled a few shaky breaths. “But Hyunjoon knows and he’s on our side. He will make a good king.”

You hummed along, agreeing, hoping for better days and that you could live long enough to enjoy those.

"Look, I know you hate me..." you started off, not trying to come off as someone close to him just because he told you this but then, he unexpectedly cut you off. His confident voice caught you off guard so much that it had your eyes widen in surprise.

"I don't," he said and you might have only imagined it but he sounded a bit nervous. He probably wasn’t used to talking about his feelings, even if it was hate. Now, that made two of you. "I did hate you but... I hate everything that I associate with the king and you... I have seen the bag of gold coins paid for killing my mother and me."

Ah. So that was why he hated ‘your kind’ so much. The kind that took dirty money and accomplished any task thrown in their way, even murdering an innocent child. It made sense, the murderous look in his eye, the disgust he had written all over the place whenever he looked at you. He probably associated you with those who had taken his mother away from him.

“I’m just a thief. I never killed anyone, even though some I encountered would have deserved it,” you told him. You didn’t owe him an explanation or anything for that matter but still, you wanted him to hear that from you because you knew how your reputation made you sound.

"I know," Juyeon stated, oddly calm and you were dumbfounded to notice the subtle smile in the corner of his mouth before he turned his head to look at you. Dark orbs finding yours, stirring something inside you. "Your aim is too shitty for you to be a killer."

"Yah!" you gasped, pseudo-offended but then laughed it off and for the first time in a long while, for a moment you felt light and at ease. Who knew Juyeon could make you feel that way too and not just boil your blood in an annoying way.

Looking back, you should have known better. You should have seen that something was off. But your mission was planned so well that you believed the smooth execution was thanks to all those long days who had put into it and all those months and years of preparation that Juyeon and his team had behind their backs in order to even dare such a thing.

Getting into the palace during the Lotus Festival was easy. A lot of people came and went during the parade and the palace was buzzing with life. The king looked like he was having fun as well, maybe a bit too much with how often his glass was refilled with rice wine but his recklessness was only working into your favour. By the time the celebrations became dull enough for the ruler to leave, you left your signal in the throne room, wishing for counsel. It was always like this but you never met the king during these times, you didn’t even mind it. Still, waiting in the half-lit room was quite nerve-wracking while you prayed for the others to be able to make their way to the king’s chambers without any hitch. You knelt before the empty throne, head onto the ground, waiting like a good, loyal subject and you suppressed the shudder running through you when you heard approaching, arrogant steps.

“You’re late,” a voice said and you still kept your head down. But you were ready to draw your dagger any needed moment.

“My deepest apology, Your Majesty. I tried to be as quick as possible,” you mumbled out an excuse knowing well that until the right hand let you know that he wasn’t the king, you had to act as if he was.

“Then you were too slow,” the man grabbed you by the chin, forcing you to look at him and with widened eyes, you saw those ruthless ones that had been haunting your dreams since your parents’ death. There was the king in front of you.

But… the whole team had clearly seen him go to his chambers! Then… who was that? Who played that role in the trap? How far would they have gone? What was waiting for the others on their way to the king’s main bedroom? You had to warn them somehow!

"You really thought you could double-cross me? You thought I wouldn't know that you betray me?" the king clicked his tongue, earning your attention again, injecting fear into your veins. You wanted to turn your head, to pull away, to yell at Changmin to go and let the others know but before you could have done any of that, the king pushed you onto the ground.

"Ah, looking for your friend?" he asked mockingly and with a flick of his wristy he called for his guards, the men who carried the luml body of a familiar face.

"No! Changmin!" you shrieked in panic. He was supposed to keep an eye on you, not getting caught. Now, that it wasn't just you in immediate danger, worries took over your chest almost suffocating you.

"Although I should be grateful since you brought my long lost son back home, so I could finish the job my men couldn't," the king tilted his head as if he was pondering over the thought. Your fingers curled up in a fist, glaring at the man with hatred. He played with all of you like a cat played with mice before eating. He enjoyed your suffering and the mind games he played but you weren't keen on being one of his pawns. Not anymore.

Juyeon was ready to kill the king, even if he had to die and in a way you both just wanted revenge and freedom. You had never been a killer but you were ready to die trying in order to end the rule of a tyrant and to save the guys who had become your comrades and friends over the past few days, weeks and anyone who had the same destiny as you. Nobody deserved to have their life hung by a thread of an ultimate made by one side.

So you decided to make a risky move, a reckless one as you reached for the dagger in your belt, throwing it at the smug man the next time he turned towards you. It was a hasty movement, surprising enough for the guards to rush to the king's side but Juyeon was right: your aim was shitty.

Instead of his chest, the dagger barely grazed the king's upper arm and fell onto the ground with a pathetic thud. The man just laughed as if it was funny and picked up your weapon, turning it against you. You gulped as you backed up until the wall. You heard Changmin yelling at you to run while trying to free himself from the guards but you couldn't move, you just stood there, frozen, and watched as the man lifted his hand to strike down at you with the blade. You flinched when he moved, closing your eyes like a coward and only opened them when you felt the man get wobbly in front of you, falling onto his knees from the dagger getting him from behind. Blood spilled from his mouth as his body shook before giving up the fight and you let out a relieved sigh. Such an unceremonious, simple way for a king to die but he didn't deserve more.

"Are you okay?" Juyeon asked, voice honeyed with care and even his dark eyes softened as he stepped closer to check on you, looking for bruises. The same eyes you noticed behind the king when he approached and you had to try your best not to show surprise and relief.

"Yeah. You got here just in time. How did you know?" you gaped at the guy and the others who fought off the guards in the meantime. If the king's bedroom was a trap, how did they get out?

"That man didn't have a limp. I realized he had been a fake one to begin with," he said simply as if it was natural but you had no idea the king had a limp up until now. You still tended to forget he had lived in the palace, close to the king in his childhood and now you tried to imagine him on a throne. It was easier than ever with you being in the throne room with a dead king but Juyeon had never had the ambitions to govern.

"Well, next time you could be faster," you teased, trying to lighten up the atmosphere and luckily, the team's leader didn't seem to mind. His smug smile was back and you would have rolled your eyes if he hadn't just saved your life.

"Will there be a next time? When you're being cornered by a man?" he raised an eyebrow challengingly, a little suggestively but instead of hitting him on the chest, you raised your chin and played the same game:

"Who knows? I keep getting into these situations since I got to know you," you tsked and there was no lie in there. Juyeon smiled at you, sincerely, his eyes holding a secret only the two of you knew but he was practically pushed aside when Changmin came to make sure you weren't hurt, mumbling something stupid about it being his fault.

Juyeon looked around, proud to see his men fight for the same cause and their efforts paying off. When it was finally time for you to leave and start a new chapter in your life, you looked back on the empty throne and the bloody crown on the floor.

“We don’t need a king sitting high on his throne, it’s the time of dogs and wolves,” Juyeon muttered and outside, the Lotus Festival continued as if nothing happened. Smiling, you joined the celebrations.

So this is what it tasted like: freedom.

#the boyz x reader #juyeon x reader #the boyz x you #the boyz scenarios #the boyz imagines #stories

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mego42 · 3 years

Note

Are you working on any brio fic that we might get soon? :)

hey anon! unfortunately, i have some p crazy life stuff going on rn and haven't been able to write for a couple off weeks now for a bunch of reasons so i am currently effectively dormant, though hopefully not for long.

but here! have a (rough) (totally unedited) (nsfw) snippet from the thing i was working on before i took a break that may or may not make it into the final fic if i give in to my urge to do a total mulligan (i won't) (probably) (i don't think) (that would be insane) (laughs nervously)

“You still locked in for that seat on the Port Authority board?” Rio asks, his own voice light, almost giddy, making Beth’s pulse trip in response.

“Announcing it on Monday,” Beth breathes, and it hitches a little on the end when his hand slips between her thighs, gently nudging them further apart.

“Then we’re set up,” he says, his fingers ghosting over her swollen clit.

Beth sighs, her eyelashes fluttering. Her hips rock, chasing his touch. “So, what’s my cut?”

Humming, Rio answers her by pressing down, his fingertip circling, and Beth swears she hears static crackling in her ears as she jerks against him. “Li’l late to be negotiation’, ain’t it?”

“Please,” she gasps. “It all falls apart without that piece of paper. I can’t think of a better time. ”

He laughs softly and Beth can hear the warmth in it, the pride and approval making her glow, the firm, steady stroke against her clit setting her on fire.

“Thinkin’ fifteen percent, yeah?”

Beth’s eyes fly open and he’s grinning, his teeth bright white, pressing into the lush pink of his lower lip, and it’s only the repressed laughter sparkling in his eyes that keeps her temper at bay.

“You’re funny,” she says, the effect of her deadpan tone almost ruined by the whimper she just manages to swallow back when his hand slides lower, parting her lips.

“What? You want thirty?” The very tip of one finger teases her entrance, the heel of his hand solid against her clit, giving her something to grind against, and when she does, shuddering at the sharp, zipping bite of the friction across her over-sensitive skin, he smiles wider.

“Try again,” Beth says, her hands flexing against the sides of the tub, fighting the urge to grab his wrist and hold him against her, to beg him to stop playing with her, running his fingertips along her, around her, carefully staying just shy of what she needs.

“Forty’s pretty steep, ma.” He dips the very tip of his finger inside her, then out, drawing a straight line up to her clit and tapping lightly. When he scrapes his nail ever so slightly across the nub and not even her locked jaw and clenched teeth are enough to stop the thin, high-pitched noise that ekes out.

“Nope,” she says, still managing to pop the p.

Rio pulls back and Beth has to bite her tongue to keep from making a sound when his hand recedes. Arching an eyebrow, he purses his lips, mock stern, but Beth can see the way the muscle at the hinge of his jaw twitches, can tell from the gleam in his eye that he’s holding back a grin. This isn’t a new game, not really, they’ve been playing a version of it more or less since they first met—though it’s never been quite as fun as it’s become recently.

“Fifty for a piece of paper?”

“A piece of paper that leads right back to me.”

There’s something birdlike about the brightness of his eyes, in the angle of his head cocked head when he looks down at her. “Oh yeah? You puttin’ your name on it?”

Beth wrinkles her nose. “Deborah’ll know who asked for it.”

Now he’s shaking his head slowly. “Told you, darlin’. It doesn’t matter what they know, only what they can prove.”

The smile playing around the corners of his mouth just knowing enough that a lick of genuine irritation has Beth straightening up, the water sloshing against the sides of the tub as she reaches for her drink.

“Legally,” she snaps, taking a sip. “Knowing’s enough to make it hard to ask for favors.”

His shoulder lifts, drops, the slightest acknowledgment of her point at odds with the utter lack of concern in his tone. “Everyone’s got a price.”

“And mine’s fifty.”

The click of her tumbler against porcelain seems to echo, underscoring the finality of her offer. A sharp contrast to the soft lap of the faint currents his arm drags through the water as he runs his fingers along her inner thigh.

“Fifty’s a big number.” His eyes are dark on hers as his hand slips back between her legs.

Beth swallows back a groan as he strokes gently over her clit. “Not for a partner.”

“Kind of a one-sided partnership when you take into account who’s doin’ all the legwork.”

“Not my lane,” Beth bites out, the strain equal parts from his fingers—dipping lower, closer to the pulsing center of the fire crackling inside her—and the bright grin that flashes across his face, the victory of turning his words back around him, of him recognizing it, stoking the heat just as much as his touch.

“You need me,” she reminds him, her eyes darting back and forth, tightly focused to catalog every micro reaction. And she sees it: the way his eyes change, the deep, dark brown turning almost black, liquid, fathomless.

“Yeah,” he says, the low rasp of his voice as tangible as the rough scrape of the callus at the base of his thumb against the soft skin at the very top of her thigh. “I do.”

Then two of his fingers are inside her, a husky cry ripping free of the back of Beth’s throat as her back arches, sending water sloshing over the sides of the tub, dark patches blooming across Rio’s shirt and jeans. Her hands scrabble, slipping off the slick porcelain, as he slowly pumps them in and out.

“So, we have—” Beth breaks off with a ragged gasp when Rio hooks his fingers up, pressing into that one spot he’s so, so good at finding, but doesn’t let him deter her. “We have a deal.”

His teeth flash, bright and white and sharp, his knuckles pressing into the soft curve of her thigh as he re-angles his thumb, pressing it down on her clit. Beth’s pulse pounds and eyelashes flutter, everything in her begging her to let her eyes shut, her head fall back and give in to the electric heat spiking through her, but she refuses to look away until he says it.

And he knows, of course he knows, because somewhere along the lines they’ve started learning each other. It’s such a jolt every time, something bubbling, sparkling, rising inside her stomach, her chest, her throat, warming her from the inside out whenever she realizes it—that he sees her, knows her, understands her.

“Yeah mama,” he says, his voice a deep rumble that rolls over her, stroking her and setting her alight just as surely as his fingers working inside her. “We have a deal.”

#i love writing them negotiating #it's the back and forth for me #see monster for reference lmao #beth x rio #brio fic #my fic #shut up meg

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beyondconfessor · 3 years

Text

Unsaid Desire

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Missy/Reader

Summary: You've been asked to babysit Missy into being good while the Doctor runs off a quick mission, but she has other ideas once she realises what's pressing through your pants.

Note Before: Crossposted onto AO3

The Doctor had a knack for bad timing. You were on your way downtown for a hot, dirty hook-up with an ex––the kind of hot, dirty hook-ups where she texted “Do you still have that toy? You should wear it when you come and see me.”. So you did because you wanted that kind of filthy sex where you fuck some hot girl in an alley while she digs her nails into your shoulders.

But it was just as you were leaving your house in your best casual date clothes, with a strap packed comfortably in your pants, that the Doctor appeared and began advising you that there was urgent business, yes absolutely, no problem, he’ll get you to this exact moment, if a few minutes later, but you are URGENTLY needed. Right. Now.

Did he mention it was urgent? Because it was URGENT.

An urgent mission…to babysit, so it seemed.

It involved you staying in the TARDIS while the Doctor, Nardole and Bill went out and explored the cool alien town. Because you were to stay here and look after Missy and ensure she Did Not Get Up To Anything (though you knew that if Missy wanted to get up to anything, you wouldn’t be able to actually stop her. You wouldn’t even tattle on her because, honestly, you liked your insides to remain in the insides of your body more than you feared the Doctor).

So, there you were. In the TARDIS console room, packing for a hot date, watching as Missy bent over the console to adjust the TARDIS monitor that the Doctor had set up for her to watch as he, Bill and Nardole did Good Things.

Unfortunately, the camera the Doctor had on the lapel of his jacket was jerky and prone to cutting out, however, which meant Missy was often fiddling with the TARDIS to fix it, because, as she had told you, that was far more interesting than you were.

You shifted in your seat, arms crossed, sinking in on yourself.

Usually, you were up for whatever the Doctor said, but you had had a hot date and were now being told you couldn’t step out to the new planet, so your mood was a burning mix of frustration and arousal.

“Grumpy today,” Missy said.

You looked up at her, and then glanced away, ignoring the way her skirts shifted around her ankles as she fiddled with the console. “I had somewhere else to be.”

To that, she paused. “And what’s more fascinating than being in an alien craft? Don’t you humans get all gooey being in something so far beyond your capabilities to understand? I mean, it’s bigger on the inside! How can it be?” She mocked, eyes going wide as she posed, waiting for your response.

You ignored her, choosing to stare at the wall instead.

Missy’s heels clicked, edging closer. It made you want to pull back. There was something about the way her perfume washed over you that made you want to bury your nose in her throat and inhale deeply.

“Something the matter, poppet?”

“No,” you responded flatly.

You had an awful feeling that she knew where your thoughts were when you looked at her. There were times when you thought the filthiest things (just briefly!) and watched as her head tilted to you, a slow smile pooling over her lips before she turned away.

It could be a coincidence. You wanted it to be a coincidence. But you suspected otherwise.

“It’s just us girls, here,” she said. “You can tell me anything.”

You looked at her, and for a moment wondered what she would do if you said what was actually on your mind. Given her disgust about humans need to “constantly breed” you doubted it’d be anything nice (not that that bothered you. Her snarking commentary was nearly as good as how you imagined she sounded when you pressed her to a surface and sucked on her neck).

You exhaled, pushing the thoughts away. “There’s nothing to say. Shouldn’t you be watching the Doctor?”

She scoffed. “Because he’s going to quiz me later?” You paused, holding your tongue and her eyes narrowed. “How original of him. Well, I’m sure that watching him negotiate with a bunch of plants will certainly be the missing thing for this rehabilitation he’s going on about.”

“I think he’s trying to play to your fear of failing.”

“I don’t have a fear of failing,” Missy said, and there she gave a strange look. “If you’re afraid to fail, then you make mistakes. Sometimes the most frightening thing can be succeeding.” She turned, looking back to the video. It seemed to only be Bill and Nardol talking at the markets––even you felt your mind haze in disinterest, despite the alien culture.

You turned away, thinking about the hot date, about the way your pants pressed between your thighs. About how you kept wanting to ask the doctor about the future of sex toys but always seemed to shy away from it at the last moment because it felt like asking your dad.

By some point in the future, on some planet, they must have developed a strap the wearer could feel, right?

Missy was leaning over the console again and all you could think about was pulling those skirts up over her waist.

Un-fucking-fair for the Doctor to pull you away from a hot date. It’d been months since you’d had your tongue in another woman. You were nearly climbing the walls and half prepared to shag the first girl you could get your hands on and had you not cared for your friendship with Bill more than your own needs, you might have tried something there.

But you cared for Bill’s feelings. Or, you were pretty certain she wasn’t interested in you anyway and it was easier to simplify it that way.

“Come here,” Missy said. You looked at her and watched as she made an exacerbated look at you. “Well, I’m not going to bite you.”

Pity.

“Unless you ask first, of course.”

You swallowed, squeezing your jaw to prevent yourself from saying anything stupid as you walked over and stood beside her.

“What do you want?”

“I need you to move that,” she said, pointing to a nozzle out of her reach. “And then hold that while I do something marvellous but utterly incomprehensible to your tiny mind.”

“Why?”

“Because the picture’s fuzzy and in case you haven’t noticed, we can’t hear,” she snapped the last bit and you stepped forward, moving to where she asked you to stand. “Turn that twice, and hold that red button while I…do this,” she said. And you watched as she flicked through a few buttons, flicking switches, turning other things, and then she did something you didn’t expect.

She pressed between you and the console, reaching to touch something to your far right, as her arse wiggled against your front to squeeze between, you watched as she tensed and then suddenly pressed firmer to you.

The room felt hot and muggy all at once.

“Last I knew, human biology being changed in your decade requires quite an extensive surgery, and you don’t have the smell of someone who's had surgery.”

You swallowed, pulling back, but still holding the dial. “I didn’t plan to be here tonight. I was meant to be somewhere else,” you explained, before biting down on your dark. Your face was hot and you just wanted this to be over as fast as possible.

Missy turned to look over her shoulder, her smile going wide as she moved back, pushing against you. “And you were all prepped for your…paramour was it?”

The flush burned across your cheeks. “We don’t need to discuss it.”

“Oh, but I think we should. Is it an earthen one, or have you made your way to Sirius Sixty-Nine yet?”

“Sirius…sixty-nine?”

“It’s…think of it like an extensive alien sex shop that takes up the size of a planetoid. Named by humans, of course. But we can go there if you’re curious. The Doctor won’t even notice,” she was purring her words by the end of it and you could feel her slight wiggle as she pressed firmer against you. “I bet that human biological need to breed has you desperate to feel what it’s like to penetrate someone.”

“I can penetrate plenty with my hands,” you said as if you hadn’t just been thinking about what it felt like to have a cock.

Missy turned on her heel so her back was to the TARDIS console and her front pressed against you. All at once she’d propped herself up on the console and wrapped her legs around your waist, tugging you close. There was a heartbeat pause at that, as you felt your jeans press to her, knowing where it was pressing. “It’s different,” she said. “When you penetrate someone with a cock, when you feel that person squeeze around you. It’s different to your hands. Especially if your hands are…” and there she paused, grabbing yours and tugging them down, to wrap around her sides, below her breasts. “Occupied,” she finished with a sharp look, daring you to move them.

You swallowed, thumb tracing over the material of her blouse, feeling the corset bones underneath your hands. “Missy.”

“Don’t you want to feel me?”

“Don’t tease me. This isn’t fair.”

“Who said anything about teasing?” She asked, holding your gaze steady. “You don’t know what I want.”

“You don’t want this. You’re always making fun of…” you wanted to tug away, but her legs were firm around your waist, her hands deceptively strong around your wrists. “I didn’t think…you’d like that sort of thing.”

“What? That I don’t care for the simplest bodily pleasure? I’m not immune to desire. Now tell me, shall I go and find some other way to busy myself while the Doctor is off doing good? Or can I count on you to follow through with those nasty thoughts you’ve been having of me?”

“You…” and you trailed off, because the correct response, from the Doctor, would be to ensure she paid attention to what he was doing.

But Missy’s eyes were so blue, and her mouth was parted, her chin lifted up to look at you, causing the curve of her neck to become more apparent. You wanted to trail your mouth down that curve, to kiss her skin and tug the clothes from her body. You wanted to taste her and feel her, and––

You should have been worried that she confirmed your very fear of telepathy, but you could feel the corset moving with every breath of hers, watching her breath grow slow and heavy, her face tilted, waiting, watching you with curiosity.

“What do you want?” You asked her sincerely.

She scoffed, tugging your hands away. “If you can’t figure that out––“

There you stopped her, grabbing her and pressed her back to the TARDIS console just as she attempted to wriggle out from between you. “I said…” you repeated, slow, firmly to her as you held her still. “What do you want?”

She paused then, and a slow smile pulled over her lips. “How direct,” she teased, rolling her ‘r’s. “I want you on your knees.”

You sunk to your knees and it was all the permission you needed as your hands lifted up her skirts. Your heart thudded in your chest, waiting for the moment she’d laugh, or scoff or just pull a weapon from thin air and shoot you dead.

But she didn’t. Her eyes remained steady on you, watching as you kissed above her ankle where her heeled boot ended, trailing over her calves, her knees and thighs as the skirt was pushed up high, around her waist.

“Do time ladies often go without their knickers?” You asked.

“Skirts like this make them seem redundant,” she said, but there was a knowing look in her eyes, and you felt as if she was reading your thoughts.

No, you knew she was.

Her grin widened. “Perhaps I planned this,” she responded, echoing your own thoughts. “Manipulated the Doctor to get you alone in here with me.”

You paused, holding her gaze steady, watching for any changes to her expression as you kissed across her thigh, your mouth pressing against the crease where her thigh met her hip. Her expression softened, and there you were familiar with the look of desire.

“Are you lonely?” You asked her, “Or only looking for relief.” It was a sincere inquiry. You wanted to know what she wanted.

Her expression sharpened. “You’re a smart girl,” she teased. “Get started and I’m sure you can extrapolate from there.”

You obeyed.

It was easy to feel your mind soften, your thoughts quieten as you kissed over the pelvic bone, across the dark curls. Your hands drew up her thighs and there, with your hands on her hips, you felt her stomach tighten, intaking a breath as your mouth pressed over the slick folds, tongue sliding against the labia to taste the arousal.

Time Ladies, you found, tasted similar to the women you’d been with. There was a softer taste, muted sweetness, but it was still familiar. You stroked the flat over her vulva, before your tongue curled over her clit, testing what she liked––going from firm to soft, fast to slow, tracing different movements as you listened to her breath hitch, her thighs clench and relax around you.

Missy seemed to let you indulge in tasting her, of feeling her breath intake and muscles squeeze, before her hand curled in your hair and tugged you back.

“That’s enough of that, now.”

“Is it?” For a moment you hesitated over if you hadn’t done the right thing, and then her head tilted, her expression softening.

“We’ve limited time, and I’d rather this move to the next step,” she said, so matter of factly you wondered if you were a masturbatory tool to her. And then you wondered if that mattered at all.

You rose to your feet and tugged her thighs apart just as she pulled you close, undoing the zip of your pants, reaching out to pull out the dildo from the depths of your pants. And God, what’d you give to feel that hand curl around you, to feel her stroke it.

“You’re going to be fast about this,” she told you, “and if you’re a very good girl and do this right, I might just break out of my cell and find you again should I ever get the itch.”

“Because I’m going to be at your beck and call?”

“You will,” she said and then she pulled you closer, sliding the toy inside of her so sharply you found yourself gasping.

Well, you’d wanted something quick and dirty. Hand under her thighs, you pulled back and thrust inside of her, watching as her eyes fluttered, her back arching. Each thrust had her melting away, to wherever she wanted to be in her thoughts, mouth parted, a soft sigh on her lips as she rocked against you.

For a moment you were uncertain as to what you should be doing if you should move softly for her––as you usually would for the first time.

But this was Missy. If she wanted soft, she would have made some sardonic comment to the effect. Instead, she was drifting off to whatever bliss she wanted. You knew she was squeezing around the shaft as you thrust inside of her, muscles clenching, and for a moment you could…almost…imagine…

“Your thoughts are awfully busy,” Missy said. “Lamenting over the fact you can’t feel what it’s like inside of me?”

You didn’t respond, glaring at her.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” she said, arching, breath itching. “I can give you taste.”

And before you could agree, her hand had snatched at yours, pulling it to her mouth where she placed two fingers over her tongue. Your pace slowed for a moment as you felt her tongue wrap over your fingers, curling as she sucked, drawing your fingers down her tongue and then back.

Her lips pressed over the length of them and oh, God, you felt like you could come from this alone.

And then your fingers were out of her mouth with a soft pop as you dropped them wetly against the console, breathing hard.

“Get back to doing your job,” she said to you, like a teacher giving a sharp warning to put your head down back on your own work.

You swallowed, curling back in your confidence, trying to remember to thrust in her in an even speed––but her hand curled in your hair, tugging so your attention was brought to the brilliant, blue eyes and snarl on her lips. “If you’re not going to do this right, what good are you?”

You glared at her, shoving her back against the console as your hands gripped at her thighs, thrusting back in her. How dare she turn you on like that, and have the audacity to act like––like––

She moaned softly, and then her hand had grabbed yours, leading you to grasp at her hair. You blinked at her before fisting it tight, pulling her head back so her neck was elongated and exposed. Your breath came out in a pant as you leant forward against the flesh of her neck, your teeth dragging over her pulse.

“Yes,” she hissed. “All those years of evolution, and you’re still no better than a dog in heat.”

You bit down, sucking and felt her rock hard against you, a sound reverberating through the air and you didn’t know if it was your enjoyment or hers.

You could feel her thighs tensing, her hips shuddering as nails dug deep into your shoulders, pulling you tight.

And there, in a hot breath against your ear, you heard her exhale in relief before she shoved you backwards from her, sending you with a swift kick to hit the side of the TARDIS.

You panted, pants slipping down your thighs as Missy dropped off the console, onto the mesh ground as she adjusted her skirts and wiped at her neck and mouth, cleaning the evidence of you from her. Her eyes turned to you, and then a sharp smirk formed, before it faded, as her nose wrinkled, looking you up and down. “You can leave.”

“Leave?”

She turned away, adjusting the monitor to look back at the Doctor’s screen, fixing it so at last sound came out before she waved you off. “Off you pop. Go and light a cigarette, or whatever you humans do.”

You bared your teeth, shoving the toy back in your pants and doing it up. The slickness of the toy didn’t escape you, and a longing pulse throbbed in your clit. But your job was done. Well, fuck her then. Thank fuck that was over.

Or so you thought.

As it was, you cleaned up, you sat back in your spot and it was barely another hour passing before the Doctor returned and dropped you back home (a day late, thank’s doc.)

After receiving the half-dozen texts from your ex going from confused to angry, burning a bridge that probably should have remained burnt in the first place, you laid in bed at night, thinking about the exchange, wondering what you would do if Missy turned up.

Tell her to fuck off, maybe.

Unlikely.

You’d bring her inside, undress her off that skirt and pull her onto your face because since those many hours ago, you couldn’t help but think about her grinding on your face.

#missy #reader #missy x reader #doctor who fanfic #morgans fic #morgan writes

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thecagedsong · 3 years

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Forgotten Light Chapter 16: Djinni

A/N: Posting this now so I don’t accidentally go back on my word and post the Tess chapter. Seth is up to Shenanagains of the life-threatening sort, just as he ought to be. Baby tries so hard.

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16

Chapter 15: Djinni

Unfortunately, they could not leave that afternoon to investigate the poisoned pool like was planned, as the Triclops didn’t give them an opportunity. It spent the whole afternoon and evening swinging an uprooted tree back and forth around the confines of their little sanctuary.

“All right,” Seth said, that night, “Need a new plan.”

“The plan is to get some sleep and try again in the morning. This island is big, he’ll go somewhere else eventually,” Warren said, rubbing his eyes, “You’re on Fablehaven’s timezone, right? No way you aren’t exhausted.”

“But the longer we wait to get a good look at the pool, the more likely we lose our clues,” Seth pleaded.

“Believe us Seth,” Vanessa said, “We know and we don’t like this. If it is still there in the morning, we’ll change the plan so that Warren and I act as decoys, luring the triclops away so your group can investigate. Preserves are too dangerous at night if it can be avoided.”

“Maybe too dangerous for you,” Seth scoffed.

“I understand your frustration,” Vanessa said, “I love Kendra too, and at least she knows that you are her brother. I will not face her having lost her brother, the only one she knows even a little bit, to preventable dangers. Sleep. I have potions for you if you need it.”

Seth looked behind her to Warren, who gave him a warning look that his arguing was at an end. He looked back at Vanessa’s dark eyes and firm set features.

“Fine,” Seth said. “I’ll take a sleeping potion, but not one that knocks me out completely.”

“More of a drowsy solution, I promise,” Vanessa said, going to her dufflebag. She mixed some powders and fruit juice, and held it out, “It will not work right away, so you can get back to your room, even if you drink it now.”

Seth tilted his head, “Hey, if you controlled me in my sleep, could you use my shadowcharmer abilities? Shadewalking, speaking to the undead, that kind of stuff?”

Vanessa didn’t answer until he drank the potion, then said, “I do not know. I have controlled wizards and felt their magical cores, but without their knowledge of spellcraft, I was unable to use their magic. Magic is not for the use of mortals. The best comparison would have been controlling Kendra, but her mind was protected, and I could not seize her. I would have to re-bite you and attempt, as Bracken broke off our previous connection. I could not attempt to guess, Seth, and I won’t experiment with you. If your abilities are needed, I trust you to use them well, as I hope you trust me to keep you safe during the attempt.”

“That’s actually really touching, I’m touched Vanessa,” Seth said, holding a hand over his heart, “I must be the most unique thing you aren’t interested in biting.”

Vanessa rolled her eyes, “I have bitten creatures of the dark, and they all taste nasty. Creature of the shadows, and teenage boy? That is a very easy pass.”

“You actually taste people when you bite them?” Seth asked, “Who tasted the best? Was it Kendra? I bet it was Kendra. I bit her once when we were kids.”

“And we’re done with that conversation,” Warren said, stopping Vanessa from answering. “Forever. Off to bed before the drowsy hits, scoot.”

“What? You don’t want to know if you tasted better or worse than—” Vanessa started teasing, and Seth was quick to back out of that conversation. Fourteen years old, and he did not need to know biting preferences for Vanessa, and how her boyfriend ranked.

Seth fell asleep, and woke up to the moon hitting his face, almost blinding. He felt refreshed and awake, not a hint of drowsy. It was rare he woke up like this, normally Kendra was awake first. Seth sat up. Or, he tried too, but sleeping in a hammock made sitting up a test of abdominal muscles. He rolled out of his hammock, took note that Tanu was sleeping across from him, Calvin wrapped up in a handkerchief for a blanket on the windowsill, and Seth quietly made his way out of the hut.

He wandered until he realized that the whispers of the undead were getting louder. Then he walked with a purpose up spiral stairs and across rope bridges he stopped before a door carved into what had to be the biggest tree in existence. It felt like the Blackwell, though a little less desperate. Instead of suffering pleas, there were questions about directions.

Left here, and again…or was it right?

A thousand repetitions of this circle should get me out…

Does wandering endlessly truly break up the monotony of eternal existence?

“I see…this is what it means to be a shadow charmer,” Savani’s voice broke his listening, and he saw the woman step onto the platform behind him.

“Yep, walking around in the middle of the night to figure out where the undead are,” Seth said. “And your excuse?”

Savani held up a bracelet of three large shells and several smaller shells, “We have three caretaker homes at this preserve, each designed to better weather certain seasons. This is the winter quarter, even though I should have welcomed you in the spring mansion. This bracelet alerts me whenever someone or something approaches one of the prisons at any of the homes, and will transport me to interfere. I assume you were not planning on releasing these entities.”

“No, just wanted to know where they are,” Seth said, looking back at the door, “They sound different than most of the undead. Like they’re…wandering. They think they are going somewhere.”

“The spirits here are trapped by a maze, just as much as they are by the barrier,” Savani said. “My people learned how to draw unwanted entities into certain designs, tricking them into wandering those corridors rather than through the village. It is a complicated magic, but one that does not require a wizard if you have the right blood and soul.”

“So like, at least they get puzzle books with their prison sentence, I approve,” Seth said, “They sound a little less miserable than the undead usually do.”

“Are you familiar with Djinni?” Savani asked.

“Genies?” Seth said, the name sounding familiar, “A little. My other Grandma tried to make a deal with one, it got to ask her three questions she had to answer truthfully. When she refused to answer one, the Genie turned her into a chicken.”

“I lost one of my staff to similar circumstances concerning the Djinni that rests just inside this door. A spirit that wandered here from the mainland; they were not so easily trapped by our mazes, but fell remarkably easily to four walls,” she said, thinking, “My sister, Alma, engaged in the question game, three for three, taking turns, and learned that the sunset pearl had been taken off the preserve before Djinni asked how to unweave spirit mazes and she refused to answer.”

“They only know about stuff inside the preserve right?” Seth asked.

“Only when asked can she gain access to her sight, which extends to past and a little into the future,” Savani said. “My sister’s remaining questions that she could not ask were about who took the sunset pearl, and the location of the Weki flute that soothes the triclops.”

“I can go in and ask her,” Seth volunteered.

Savani laughed, “I could never ask you to go in with so little preparation!”

“Seems to me everyone fails at the game because they had too much preparation,” Seth said. “You need to let your non-local idiot walk in with absolutely no preparation. I don’t know anything about this preserve or what might free her. Sure I know some secrets, but nothing that would help her get free. And it’s just information. She can’t ask me to do things for her, right?”

“The young always risk their lives for so little,” Savani said, shaking her with a quiet laugh. “Even if I were willing to lose another ally to that monster after losing my sister, something I’m sure you understand, none of your protectors would let you go over them.”

“That’s why we do it here and now,” Seth said, “I’ve negotiated with tougher customers than this. I’ve talked down both the Totem Wall and the Singing Sisters. And I convinced a centaur to let me ride on his back. I’m pretty talented at walking away from these things.”

“That is impressive,” Savani said, “But even with those dangerous consultations in your past, our situation is not so risky. And wandering towards the most secure prison at night alone does not convince me that you have the discipline to converse with this creature. Any word out of your mouth that is not the answer the answer to her question after you enter her chamber is a lie and gives her freedom to leave. You strike me as the sarcastic sort, and that will get you killed.”

“Yeah, some of my wraith friends didn’t get my jokes either,” Seth said, remembering Whiner. “I suppose knock-knock jokes are out?”

“Most definitely,” Savani said, “You are refreshing to speak to. Much like Warren, but less burdened. Does the chill of this dungeon not bother you?”

“Chill?” Seth asked, looking around, “It’s been ridiculously hot since we got here. It finally feels nice.”

“The unnatural dread make many fail to converse with the Djinni,” Savani said thoughtfully. “After speaking, I am a bit more inclined to let you try with the Djinni, and hold back my assent almost solely on the rifts I do not wish to cause with the rest of our allies. Should the triclops still haunt us when they awake, I will allow you to present this plan as an option to them.”

“Sounds like permission to me,” Seth said. He spun and grasped the door handle. In that touch, he found himself on the opposite side of door. Apparently just touching the doorknob was enough to get a mortal inside the prison, though he was willing to bet it would take the caretaker to get out. There was a single door to his right, and beyond that a spiral staircase covered with woven mats of crazy designs. He felt the presence of wraiths and the undead just before him, and it took a bit to figure out that they were trapped inside the mats.

Then a phantom stumbled up the stairs, and he realized not all of them were trapped in mats. Just to his left was a door with another handle and no hinges.

Expecting it this time, Seth reached out and grasped the handle.

“Oh? Two visitors so close together after a century of silence,” the Djinni said. “A baby shadow charmer, no less. I assume you are here to play my riddle game like that last one.”

The Djinni was surprisingly pretty. Usually Kendra got the pretty ones, and he got the cool ones who were half skeleton half putrid guts. The flowing pink dress threw him for a second. But she had white skin, red eyes, and choppy blue hair. Her skin was smooth, except for the bags under her eyes, and her hair looked like it could use a good washing.

Seth nodded to the Djinni’s question.

Then he breathed in, and a hand came up over his mouth to stop him from gagging. His eyes left the Djinni to the ground next to her, covered partially by her cloak. For some reason, when Savani said her sister had been killed by the Djinni, he had never imagined what had happened to her sister’s body. This wasn’t like the zombie farm, or even when Coulter died in his arms. The body was weeks decayed. Skin and organs were liquifying and leeking over the floor, bones starting to jut out on the ribcage and he could only be glad he couldn’t see Savanni’s sister’s face.

“I have a fondness for little adventurers,” the Djinni said with a rosy smile, watching him watch the body. She even threw in a casual caress of her last victim. “I will recite the rules for you if you nod now.”

Seth nodded, suddenly regretting everything. He made himself focus on the Djinni.

“Very well, my rules are simple,” she said, standing up but still leaning against the wall of her prison cell, “You may only speak the answers to my questions and questions of your own. You have as much time as you need to answer. Should you speak else, I may extract a price from you for disturbing me, and as you can see, it includes killing you. Should you speak a lie, I am freed from my prison and will enjoy wrecking the meager protections left to this house on my way out. My sight it limited to this preserve, but it extends to everywhere in this preserve and all the way through the past, and twenty-eight days into the future. You may indicate you are unsatisfied with my answer, but may not ask follow-up questions, I can do the same. Upon being satisfied with my final answer, you will be teleported out of my diminutive abode. Nod if you are ready to begin, little adventurer.”

Simple rules. Follow the rules, and they can’t touch you. He would just have to think through his answers before speaking. Despite what Kendra says, he can think before talking. At least, that’s what Kendra used to say, and probably wouldn’t take long to say again. Seth nodded and made himself remove his hands and accept the smell. The smell wasn’t worse than the zombie farm, even if the body was.

“Then I, Skamboli, ask this for my first question: what are the ways out of my confinement that you know about?” she asked.

Seth thought for a minute, going over each way he thought might work.

“I only know a few,” Seth said slowly, “if I tell a lie, you are free. I assume that if the caretaker released you, you could go free. I don’t know for sure, but I assume if someone busted down your door from the outside, you would probably be freed. Burned the tree prison down, though you might die that way. And…a trained shadow charmer, not me, could probably unlock your door. People have told me that once I learn control over my powers, I can undo locks, but I don’t know how yet.”

Skamboli waited, but nothing happened. “Very honest, I approve. Though a wiser adventurer would not volunteer information about their weaknesses. You may ask your first question.”

Better ask Savani’s questions first. “Who took the sunset pearl?”

Her red eyes flashed white for a second then went back to red. “The dark unicorn goes by many names, but you know him as Ronodin. He stole the pearl on his first visit to this sanctuary.”

That was bad and good. Bad, because Ronodin likely put it where he was keeping Kendra, on the Phantom Island, but good because it narrowed their goals and they were already working on getting to the Phantom Isle anyway. Maybe he could use the horn to send a message to Bracken to pick up the pearl on his way out with Kendra?

Seth nodded at the Djinni, hopefully indicating he was satisfied with her answer. Not looking at the body. She never said he could verbally say if he was satisfied, just dis-satisfied, and didn’t want to risk it. He didn’t want to talk more than he had to.

“Is there any questions I could ask that you would be unwilling to answer?” Skamboli said. This was the question that left grandma laying eggs for months.

Again, Seth thought carefully.

“Plenty of things I wouldn’t want to answer,” Seth decided, “Embarrassing moments, secrets about our plans against the dragons in the upcoming dragon war that I promised not to share, too much information about my friends and family. Secrets that would result in my death if I shared them with you due to other promises I have made. Really don’t want to share that one, it wouldn’t benefit you at all and would end up with me dead. That one is about my dealings with the Singing Sisters, and wouldn’t interest you at all, so please don’t ask that one. But I would share any of it, if you asked, because I need to take the answers to my questions back to my friends.”

Skamboli waited, then nodded at Seth. Seth hesitated for a moment, because the name of the flute Savani mentioned five minutes ago was already lost from his head. He needed a minute to carefully pick his words.

“Where is the magic flute that can soothe the currently rampaging triclops?” Seth asked at last.

Again, her eyes flashed a blinding white.

“The Weki flute is buried amongst the treasure of the Fairy Queen’s shrine on this island,” Skamboli said.

Uggh, normally they left the fairy shrine stuff to Kendra, though the Fairy King might let him take something from there. Or maybe getting Fairy Struck Tess to ask would be better. Still, much better news than the flute being lost forever. Seth nodded.

“What would convince you to free me from my prison, little adventurer?” she asked, sounding tired.

Seth had not expected that question. What would convince him to free a dangerous being? He took longer to think through his answer to this one than any other. The smell and taste of the last life she had taken all around him, so much worse than the zombie farm.

“A sincere and binding promise to never hurt another sentient being again,” Seth said, at last, and his eyes finally went back to the body. He saw the swollen, distorted face of Savani’s sister, and knew he wouldn’t ever forget it. “But from everything I know, that is against your very nature and an impossible promise to keep.” He looked away and back at her, “Still, if you were able to convince me you’d do that? I’d do my best to help you. I would do my best to convince Savani that you won’t attack her, help find a nice new lair for you somewhere on this preserve. You could have been a lot meaner, a lot stricter and done more to trip me up, but you didn’t, which makes me like you. I have been double crossed a lot in my life though, so I refuse to free you on anything less than a perfect, binding promise.”

Skamboli waited, then nodded, a small smile on her lips. Now it was time for the real reason he had jumped into this encounter, the information that would make it all worth it. He thought over his question a couple of times, looking for loopholes or ways to get more information out of it, and asked.

“Where will my sister Kendra be on the preserve in the next twenty-eight days?”

Again, her eyes flashed white, though this time they softened slowly back to their red. “The future is not certain, but many futures show Kendra at this preserve in 77 hours and making her way to the sacred pool. She will venture into the domain of a wraith, then leave. It grows hazier, but Kendra will also visit the Bridge Cove, then Baga Lao sometime after that. Leaving Baga Lao, she does not return within the time of my sight.”

Kendra. Here. Seth almost said something, almost said thank you, then stopped himself with a snap of his jaw. He nodded.

“That concludes my little game. Congrats, you are the first to pass without retribution in a while. You are right, I cannot promise not to harm in exchange for my freedom. Still, this has been quite entertaining, and in Jighandi even. You have goodness in you, little adventurer, try not to die too quickly on this preserve.”

Seth was transported out. Savani was standing in the little hallway, arms folded, when he appeared. She grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him towards the exit

Savani forcibly shoved him out of the prison, where Grandma was waiting for him.

“So, good news, I wisely used my resources and found out vital information on where Kendra is going to be, as well as the sunset pearl and the flute to stop the triclops” Seth said. “Bad news, I’m going to throw up.”

Seth rushed to the edge of the platform and started heaving, losing the dinner he had eaten.

“I understand now what Ruth and Stan warned me when letting you out of my sight,” Grandma Larsen said, putting a hand on his back. “Of all the trouble I was watching out for, you purposefully going to chat up a djinni never even crossed my mind.”

Tears leaked out of his eyes as he threw up some more. It was horrible, he’d thought that after everything, after regularly conversing with the undead for years, after seeing so many people die, he would never loose his stomach over something like a dead body. But the smell…

…he gagged some more, even though there was nothing left. He was sticky and gross and the humidity made it feel like the vomit was sticking to him more than he knew it was. Eventually a glass of water was offered, and he used it to rinse his mouth. He nodded his thanks at Savani, and accepted the wet towel as well.

His breathing evened out and he said, “For Kendra. I did it for Kendra.”

“Seth, you are part of a team now,” Grandma said, “And you aren’t leading things here like you were back at Wyrmroost. We work together, or not at all. Savani told you she didn’t want you to speak to the Djinni, and you disregarded her. This is her home, hers to protect, and you violated that trust. How is what you did any different than Knox going into the dungeons with Tess to check out the barrel?”

“Savani said the only reason she didn’t want me to talk to the Djinni was that she worried about setting off everyone’s ‘protect Seth’ sensors,” Seth said, not looking her in the eye, “I thought I figured it out, but you’re right, I didn’t know, I wasn’t ready. It’s what I thought I had to do, and I’m sorry.” Savani’s sister’s body flashed in his mind again, the way Skamboli stroked sagging flesh, and he pressed his face into the towel.

He was stronger and braver than this. He was. He had proved it over and over, and he’d seen people die. He’d seen his sister poison herself into a frothing, empty shell. He’d seen battle wounds from the battle of Zzyzx.

This shouldn’t be worse than that, but it was.

Grandma sighed and rubbed his back. “What happened? Tell me.”

“It’s nothing,” Seth said, pulling himself to his feet. “Nothing I haven’t seen before. It just…I wasn’t prepared. I promise I won’t act on my own again.”

“That is not the answer to my question,” Grandma scolded, standing as well, “I don’t care about how Ruth and Stan let you run about and keep secrets, and I don’t care about what you’ve seen before. We are going to confront a demon for training tomorrow, and you have been unsettled and you have been reckless, so we are going to talk until I trust that you can handle what’s going to happen.”

“It doesn’t matter if I talk about it or not,” Seth said, “We need to get me trained so I can get to the Phantom Isle, and we need to do it fast. I can handle a demon, I won’t lose it like that again.”

“Seth, Honey,” Grandma said, and she pulled him into a hug he resisted, “Even those of us who have done dangerous missions on magical preserves our entire lives need people to talk to. People to trust. Time to break down. Mortals aren’t meant for the kind of exposure you and your sister have been through. Special abilities or not. Talk to me.”

“It’s nothing, I mean it,” Seth said, and his eyes found Savani over Grandma’s shoulders, who had been watching patiently the entire time. “It wasn’t worse than seeing Kendra’s stingbulb kill herself, and I got through that, so I’m okay.”

“Shadow charmers have a reputation,” Savani said quietly, “Of moving and operating in the dark, with demons who seal their secrets sworn in blood. I would recommend letting things come to light, if you can. If you are trying to spare me, I think I have guessed what unsettled you. I had hoped this Djinni to favor the clean and quick kill, but we knew the consequences.”

“I’m sorry,” Seth said, hoping she understood the extent of his apology.

“Ahh,” Grandma said releasing him, “Death. You have dealt far too much with loved ones and friends dying for your age, and you have dealt much with those long dead, the process in between is…unpleasant, unsettling.”

“It smelled really bad,” Seth admitted, closing his eyes and seeing the body all over again. “Worse than the zombie farm. I don’t know how I breathed, much less talked. It was just…everywhere in that small cell. I won’t try something like that again, not without a lot more preparation and talking it out with everyone.”

Savani said nothing for a long moment, “You make raising my own son look easy, Seth Sorenson. I believe your sincere desires, though it will take a while for me to trust your restraint. Gloria, remain by Seth’s side for the remainder of his stay here. He does not understand our magic, and while that saved him from knowing anything that could help the Djinni, it also made him dangerous to the integrity of the Woven Prison.”

“That is acceptable,” Grandma said.

Savani sighed, and shook her head, “That being said, the information you gathered is invaluable and I am also in your debt for asking. I was listening at the door and recorded everything. We will work on securing the flute, preparing for Ronodin’s return, and locating the Sunset Pearl. We will have much to discuss when the rest of our companions awake.”

Grandma nodded, “I agree, come Seth. There is still three hours until dawn, and we need what rest we can, even if sleep is gone. You will be sleeping in my room from now on.”

Seth winced, but it was hardly the worst punishment he could have gotten. Probably better than he should have gotten. The women turned to leave.

Seth went to the room his Grandmother had been using, to laid down in the second bed, while Grandma Larsen curled up in hers. No more hammock after tonight. He thought he had been past his impulse issues. He had been careful at Wyrmroost to not take unnecessary risks, to consult Kendra in most things, and he had felt good. Like he had learned his lesson and finally grown into someone worth trusting with important stuff.

Now it felt like he was back to square one. Back to being the dumb kid that captured fairies overnight and trusted demons.

Seth missed his sister.

#Forgotten Light #Fablehaven #Dragonwatch #Seth Sorenson #Finally I don't start a chapter with a handwritten note #baby seth #tw: gore #I guess #graphic description of a decaying body

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hrtiu · 4 years

Note

I know you're probably tired of writing but I LOVE your Rexsoka!!! Would it be possible to see a Rebels Rexsoka where Ahsoka gets injured bad and Rex has to sit by helplessly as she's taken care of by medical staff... and maybe with the Ghost crew seeing how it affects him... (aka they figure out how close the two are). Also, maybe a follow up of Ahsoka frustrated with her injury because she's not used to needing help. Was thinking leg injury. Love seeing vulnerable Ahsoka. Thanks!

I’m sorry it took me so long to get to this ask, but thank you so much for submitting it! Rexsoka will always be my favorite TCW ship, and I love writing for it! I hope you enjoy.

“We’re coming in hot!” Hera shouted from the cockpit.

“Ezra, get the door!” Kanan said, moving to grip Ahsoka under her shoulders. “Zeb, you get her legs.”

The Ghost’s breaking thrusters screamed in protest as Hera pulled her in for a rushed landing. The landing gear struck the landing pad of Chopper Base with a heavy thunk and Ezra dashed for the door and punched it open. He ran down the gangplank and Kanan and Zeb carried an unconscious Ahsoka out of the ship after him.

The first person Ezra saw was Rex, puttering around by the generator. “Rex! Get the med unit ready! Ahsoka’s been injured!”

Rex looked up from the generator in confusion, then his eyes fell on Ahsoka’s limp form in Kanan and Zeb’s care. The bacta pad tied around her waist was keeping her alive, but it couldn’t block the trail of red liquid oozing from her torso.

Rex’s face went white as his beard. “What happened?”

“No time,” huffed Ezra. “Get the med unit!”

Rex’s eyes glazed over, and Ezra wondered if now would be the moment Rex’s unstoppable soldier persona decided to fail. Then the former clone captain snapped to attention, dropped the tools he’d been carrying to the ground, and ran full-tilt towards the med bunker near the back of the base.

Ezra helped hold Ahsoka steady while Kanan and Zeb carried her to the med bunker. They set Ahsoka gingerly down on the med unit and Rex set to work cleaning, cauterizing, and redressing her wound. Kanan and Zeb left to update Hera, and Ezra made himself useful however he could, grabbing bacta, bandages, the cauterizer—whatever Rex needed.

“What happened?” Rex asked again as he carefully peeled off Ahsoka’s ruined bandages. “I thought this was supposed to be a low-security munitions factory.”

“It was, but something went wrong with the charges we set. The explosion radius was bigger than we thought, and a piece of shrapnel got Ahsoka.”

Rex’s lips pulled together and his brows furrowed, but he didn’t look away from his work. “Got it.”

The rest of the crew of the Ghost hovered about just outside the med bunker, but the space was cramped and more hands wouldn’t help. Rex was the most experienced with emergency medicine of their little team, and Ezra thanked his stars that he’d been the first to respond to his cry for help on Chopper Base.

Rex asked for the handheld cauterizing laser, and Ezra placed it in his hand.

“I need you to keep her still, alright kid?” Rex said. “This next part might be rough.”

Ezra put his hands on Ahsoka’s shoulders in preparation, but worried he wouldn’t be able to do much if she jolted. She was strong, both physically and in the Force. That’s when it occurred to him that he wasn’t too shabby with the Force either,

Ezra kept his hands on Ahsoka’s shoulders, but instead of pressing down he closed his eyes and let his consciousness sink into hers, like he did when negotiating with a tooka or calming a loth wolf. He communicated peace and comfort, as well as a willingness to bear some of her pain.

Rex turned the cauterizer on and Ahsoka’s muscles seized up, her jaw clenching and her hands balling into tight fists. Peace, comfort, security, Ezra sent to her, and some of her pain flowed into him. Together, they bore the harsh cleansing burn of the laser, and Ahsoka managed to keep still.

Rex put the laser away and held his hand out to Ezra again. “Bacta.”

Ezra let go of Ahsoka’s shoulders. She was limp again, likely passed out from the pain. He found Rex the tub of topical bacta gel and handed it to him. Rex took it and spread some of the gloopy gel onto his fingers then, with infinite care, slowly spread it across the burned surface of Ahsoka’s wound. His touch glided over the angry wound like it was the most delicate, beautiful flower in the galaxy, like she might fade away if he was too rough.

The charred wound slowly began knitting together, the burnt brown fading to a crusted tan. The tension in Ahsoka’s unconscious features faded, and to Ezra it seemed she shifted from unconsciousness to sleep. Rex leaned back against the wall of the bunker and sighed, deep lines of stress aging his already-worn features.

“We’re past the dangerous part, now,” Rex said. “You should tell the others.”

Ezra nodded and left to find the rest of the Ghost crew. Hera beamed with pleasure and Kanan let out a sigh and a small smile. Sabine acted like she’d never been terribly worried in the first place, but Ezra knew how guilty she’d felt about her explosion not going according to plan. Zeb whooped in triumph and Chopper was, well… Chopper. Everyone’s relief was clear, but underlying it lurked an enduring anxiety. These past few months it had become too easy to think of their work as fun and exciting rather than dangerous and potentially deadly.

It took Ezra some time to track everyone down, so by the time he finished his task he decided to go back and check if Rex needed anything else. The door to the med bunker was open when he arrived, and through the opening he could see Rex sitting at Ahsoka’s side, his gaze warm and tender. Ezra cleared his throat and knocked at the side of the door.

Rex looked up. “Oh, Ezra. Care to help me clean up?”

“Sure.”

Ezra stepped inside and set about throwing away used bandages, sterilizing tools, and putting things back where they belong alongside Rex. They were just about finished when a soft moan sounded from the med unit.

Ahsoka stirred on the stretcher, and Rex looked up at her with worried, eager eyes. She looked back at him blearily and tried to sit up.

“...Rex?”

Rex gently pressed her back down. “You’ve been injured, little’un. Try not to move.”

“I remember the blast,” she croaked. “How bad is it?”

Rex frowned. “Bad enough.”

“You were bleeding like crazy on the Ghost,” Ezra said, “but luckily we got you back here in time.”

“Then… I’m going to be alright?” she asked, voice small and uncertain for the first time Ezra had ever heard.

“Yes, you should be. Probably,” Rex said, his frown growing. “The bleeding has stopped, and none of your internal organs were injured too badly. But this was much closer than it should have been.”

Her vulnerability disappeared, and she attempted a weak smile. “How close should it have been?”

“It’s not funny,” Rex said. His eyes dodged hers and his fingers curled tightly over the “501st” scratched into the vambrace he always wore.

Ahsoka’s expression softened, and she reached out to him, setting her hand on his. He looked up at her and the softness in his eyes brought a heat to Ezra’s neck.

Rex reached his other hand to Ahsoka’s cheek, his hands smearing the leftover bacta gel against her white markings. She didn’t seem to mind.

“I already lost you once, I’ll be damned if I lose you again,” he said.

“Rex, you know the risks.”

Rex’s eyes fell to his lap, and she squeezed his hand tight.

“But I promise I’ll always do everything I can to come back,” she said, her voice smoky and soothing like Ezra sometimes liked to imagine Sabine’s, in his weaker moments.

Rex looked back up at her, his eyes dark and intense. The small room was suddenly stifling, and Ezra’s face was on fire. He was going to die. Maybe he was already dead. He coughed loudly, and Rex and Ahsoka turned to him as if surprised by his existence.

“I, uh, I guess I’ll leave you two alone, then,” Ezra said, backing slowly out of the room. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were together. I mean, Kanan explained to me about the age thing, but-”

Ahsoka dropped Rex’s hand and Rex scooted away from her, his eyes going wide.

“W-we’re not together,” he stammered.

Ahsoka’s lekku flushed a deep blue. “Yeah, just old friends. Wartime buddies.”

“Oh, ok,” Ezra said, still backing away. “Well, um, I think Hera needs me for something.”

Ahsoka opened her mouth to say something, but Ezra was out the door before she had a chance to vocalize it. The door whirred shut behind him, and he leaned back against the durasteel, his skin hot against the cool metal. Well, that was mortifying.

“Kids have such… vivid imaginations.” Ahsoka’s voice sounded from the other side of the door, and Ezra froze.

Rex chuckled, though it rang weak in Ezra’s ears. “Yeah. Crazy, to think that… You know. You and me? Crazy.”

Ezra leaned closer to the door, letting the sound from the other side seep through the crack between the panels. Being in the same room as a couple melting all over each other was a fate worse than death, but eavesdropping? Eavesdropping was one of his favorite pastimes.

“Rex, what if what Ezra said… It might be nice…”

Ezra pressed his ear harder against the cold metal.

Rex’s voice cracked. “Ahsoka-”

A firm hand yanked Ezra away from the door by his ear.

“Ow!” Green headtails bobbed in his peripheral vision. “Hera! What was that for?”

“I’m pretty sure that conversation was none of your business,” Hera said, marching him further away from the bunker.

“I just wanted to know what their deal is,” Ezra said. “Don’t you?”

Hera crossed her arms and heaved a sigh. “Sure, but that’s their business. They’ll figure it out when they’re ready. Relationships… They’re complicated. Especially when Jedi are involved.”

Her focus shifted to some distant point beyond Ezra, and Ezra bit his lip, thinking of Kanan.

“Alright, I get it,” he said. “But I hope they figure things out. They deserve to be happy.”

“Yeah,” Hera said, her attention returning to him. “Me too.”

#rexsoka #captain rex #ahsoka tano #tcw #fanfic #ask #really old ask #sorry!#rexsoka renaissance

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mandoalorian · 4 years

Note

Hello I really love that one about Javi being scared about something happening to reader, it's so soft. What do you think about reader being kidnapped by the capo and Javier and the whole DEA trying to rescue her. THANK YOU 🥰

Birthday Bloodbath [Javier Pena x Reader]

Read part one here!

Read part three here!

Warnings: if you have any experience with kidnapping this is not the fic for you! I tried to make all descriptions as vague and go over the actual hostage part as quickly as possible but I wouldn't recommend you read something like this if you think it might trigger you. also food mentions, alcohol mentions, cursing, mention of blood, gore, injury, and death, intruders, drugs and drug cartels (other narcos related themes) very very scary situations.

Rating: 18+

Word count: 3k

Authors note: thank you for the request! I'm so glad you liked the first part enough to want a follow-up. I must admit, I did struggle with writing this as I'm not familiar with writing situations like this … but I was in my element writing the fluff at the start!!! I hope you enjoy.

Masterlist • submit requests

This was never supposed to happen. You had sworn to Javier that you'd get through this together. Javier had been foolish for believing the Capo and his cartel would have left you alone; and risk their entire distribution. Javier Peña was one of the agents who took down Pablo Escobar; and he was a force that shouldn't be reckoned with. Cartels all across South America knew of him and knew to be aware of him. The Capo wanted a bullet in his brain, but he knew that getting close to someone like Javier wouldn't be easy.

Since Escobar, Javier had gotten a brilliant promotion. He now has his own team behind him, not to mention his own security who would follow him around on his endeavours. It really helped ease Javier's anxiety, knowing that he had people on constant watch who would protect him, but more importantly, would protect you.

You didn't like it; all the fancy security following your every move. You'd visit the launderette just a few blocks away, and they'd follow your every move. But there was nothing you could do about it. They were under firm instruction by Javier, and there was nothing you could do that would change Javier's mind. He needed to know that you were protected.

However, on the day of Javier's birthday, things changed. Javier headed to work early that morning, claiming he could get his papers signed quickly and be home by around 4pm, having the whole evening and night to celebrate with him.

It wasn't often you got to spend time with Javier and since it was such a special occasion, you wanted to make it special. You had been planning for his birthday weeks in advance. Javi wasn't one for parties, and he had planned travelling back to Texas in a fortnight to see his family. It would be your first chance at meeting them. He told you over and over again, no parties. He just wanted a special night in the apartment with you.

But you had to surprise your boyfriend in some way. You had called up his old partner and one of his best friends, Steve Murphy and invited him over for the weekend. You knew Javi would love a few beers and a catch-up with Steve. Steve had called you yesterday morning and told you he had just arrived in Colombia. He was going to surprise Javier in work, on his birthday. You knew that, by now, Javi and Steve were probably together in the office, bickering like they used to. You just wished you could've seen the smile on Javier's face when Steve surprised him.

The beaming rays of sunlight woke you up later than expected. You found yourself wearing Javier's pink button down shirt, and a smile spread across your lips as you reminiced on the amazing night you had before. Ever since the incident with the capo, and Javi's injury, Javier has struggled to cope with it. He had gotten better at talking about his feelings, but it did initiate a certain trauma within him. You were, however, seeing improvements in his nature. Things were finally looking up for both of you.

Your smile grew when you picked up on the infused scent of laundry detergent and cigarettes. You'd much rather be in Javier's arms right now, but wearing his shirt was the next best thing. Merrily, you slipped into the kitchen, the hem of his shirt grazing your thighs. You checked the time on your wrist watch; it was 8:40am. Your security would arrive at your flat at 9am prompt. You poured out three glasses of orange juice for them and put on your favourite record. You decided on skipping breakfast, because you had a feast planned for Javier's birthday dinner. His favourite food was from this local Chinese take-out and you had arranged all his favourite dishes to be delivered to your house.

You didn't plan on leaving the house today, except to go to the bakery to pick up his birthday cake. You walked over to the closet to grab your balloons and streamers. You were going to wait until security arrived so they could help you decorate the house but you decided there was no harm in getting a head start.

Head deep into the closet, you swore you heard your front door open. You brushed it off, thinking you had probably just nudged something on one of the shelves. You clambered out of the small cupboard, hands full of decorations, and went to carry them into the kitchen. Just before you got there, you heard a glass clink against the counter. You thought it was weird, but maybe it was just security. Maybe they had arrived early and were helping themselves to the orange juice you had prepared.

"Okay boys!" you shouted, juggling packets of balloons, banners, confetti, and streamers in your arms, being careful that nothing dropped to the floor. "We have a lot to do today. As you know, it's Javi's birthday and so-" you froze when your eyes locked onto the three men standing in your apartment.

They weren't your security, but they sure as hell had drunk your orange juice. Stood before you were three men, clad in military print overalls and gold chains. "Uhm…" you stumbled backwards slightly, dropping most of the decorations in your arms. "Can I help you?" you asked. You peered behind the three men and noticed the lock on the door had snapped off. These men were intruders.

The man in the centre, had jet black curly hair and he shot you a hungry smile. He stepped forward, caressing your arm and his smile only grew when you shivered under his touch.

"Who are you?" you spat when no one responded to you. "Why are you here?"

"She's such a pretty little thing, isn't she?" one of the men purred, while the other nodded his head in silent agreement.

"Whatever you want… money? I can get you it just- please don't do anything stupid." you tried negotiating, something Javier had always taught you to do if you had ever found yourself in a situation such as this one.

The capo grabbed your throat with a sudden force and you let out a yelp. He pushed your chin up with his two fingers, forcing you to look into his eyes. "We were looking for agent Peña," the capo explained, a glint in his eyes. "But I think you might be the next best thing." he smirked, pushing you down to your knees.

You landed on the oak wood floor with a thud. "Tie her up." the capo commanded; and his two sicarios obediently followed his instruction, taking thick piece of rope and tying it around your wrists. You could feel it begin to graze and cut at your skin as you tried to escape from their firm grip.

"My boyfriend- if you don't let me go he'll kill you when he finds out about this. You don't want to get personal with Javier, I'm warning you." you said through tear filled eyes and gritted teeth.

"Actually, agent Peña got personal with us first, when he tried and failed going undercover to our headquarters. He thought we wouldn't catch on," the capo laughed. "He promised us he'd keep his mouth shut and we'd let him walk three. But we followed him home. We've been tracking your phone calls with him for months now. We know he lied to us. We know he's been seeing a therapist about what happened. We have cameras deployed out in the street… watching your every move. Looking into your windows…"

One of the sicarios nodded his head and took a swing of the orange juice. "Ooh sir, you should've seen her and agent Peña last night. I got it recorded-"

"What the fuck? You sick pervert!" You screamed, trying to scramble to your feet. It was no use. The capo kicked his foot into your back and you fell back down on your face. You groaned, trying to catch your balance when you felt something salty drip into your mouth. It was blood. Your nose was bleeding.

"Listen, if you just play along to with our little game, everything will be okay. Except for agent Peña of course… but you know, you still have a chance of making it out here alive!" the capo cackled, hysteria dripping from his tongue. "So when will your dashing DEA agent be home?"

You shook your head, refusing to answer. Javier wouldn't be home for hours. Fuck, you really didn't know what to do. "My security will beat the shit out of you." you snarled, but felt so defeated knowing your threats were empty.

The capo let out another laugh. "Aw, she must think the security that we annihilated in the corridor would return from the dead to protect her?"

"Holy shit, you killed them?" you hissed in disbelief.

One of the sicarios held out a knife, stained deep in blood. He held it to your neck, wiping the blood of your security on your skin. You were out of options. You were so afraid.

***

"Noonan still an ass?" Steve chuckled, lighting Javier's cigarette. Javi took a puff and nodded his head.

"Yeah, but she has her moments," Javier shrugged. "She's letting me get off work early today."

"Birthday privilege?" Steve pointed out and Javier nodded his head in agreement.

"It's been so good to see you, but I gotta head home to see my girl." Javier smirked and Steve wolf whistled.

"Yeah? How's she doing by the way?" Steve asked and Javier felt a blush creep upon his cheeks at the mere thought of you.

"She's good, she's good." Javier grinned like a Cheshire cat.

"Never in a million years did I think my friend Javier Peña would actually settle down," Steve laughed and Javier nudged his arm playfully. "I owe Connie twenty bucks!"

Javier rolled his eyes and stubbed out his cigarette. "Come over later for a few drinks, yeah?" Javier pulled Steve in for a long awaited hug.

"I'd like that bud, I'll bring the beers." Steve replied and offered Javier a comforting pat on the back. "I'll see you later."

On the drive home, Javier completely forgot it was his birthday. His mind was just consumed with you— the love of his life. You were the only person who looked after him, cared for him, and were constantly at his beck and call. He chastised you for it and he told you that you did too much for him, but your compassionate nature truly meant so much to him.

After an amazing night with you, he couldn't wait to surprise you at home. He couldn't wait to pick you up and hold you in his arms. It was still morning, so it meant he could spend the whole day with you.

His excitement was cut short when he pulled up into the driveway of his apartment complex. He saw three black vans with tinted windows, and recognised them from his encounter with the drug cartel months ago. A knot tightened in his throat. Quietly, he hopped out of his own truck and entered his building. Making his way through the maze of hallways, his heart dropped when he found his three security guards lying dead against the walls outside his home, their blood soaking through the carpet.

Javier's instincts were to bolt inside your shared apartment and rescue you. He knew for a fact you were in danger— that they were in there, holding you hostage. But he had to think logically. They wanted Javi dead, and he didn't know what the numbers would be like.

Javier backed off down the corridor and took out his cell phone. "Hey Steve? Are you still at the Embassy? I think the cartel has y/n. I need your help. And call for the other agents; we need serious backup!" Javier explained a thorough plan to Steve on the phone, who promised Javier he'd be there within minutes. And Steve Murphy always kept his words.

While Javier waited, he looted the bodies of his security for any weapons they had possessed. He hid a gun under his pants and slid a knife into his pocket. When he saw Steve at the front gate, pulling up with a van filled with fellow agents, he offered him a nod of acknowledgement. This was where Javier's plan started. He was going in.

Javier had decided to play it cool and pretend like he didn't have his whole team behind him. He opened the unlocked front door yelling an unfamiliar "honey I'm home!". Javier never said anything like this and so he hoped, by hearing this, you would catch on that he had it covered.

His heart was racing in his chest when he caught a glimpse of you, tied to a chair wearing only his shirt. You had silver electrical tape around your mouth and blood that Javi prayed wasn't yours. Your eyes were puffy from your tears and fear prevailed through them. He muttered your name and hurried to your side, falling to his knees and taking out the knife from his pocket.

"You're okay baby, you're okay I'm here. I've got you." Your whimpers broke his heart. He sliced open the rope, releasing your hands. "How many are there?" he whispered into your ear. You managed to hold up three fingers and Javier gulped, starting to unbind your ankles when he felt a gun press in between his shoulder blades.

Javier removed his hands from you and raised them in a surrender position above his own head. Javier stood up straight and turned around to face the capo, gun now pointing into his chest. He recognised the two sicarios behind him from last time.

"Whatever you need, I can get for you." Javier promised, lowering his hand to the barrel of the gun and cautiously pushing it away from him. "I have money."

"What we needed was your silence… your honesty, agent Peña. And we needed that about three months ago."

"I didn't say shit to the DEA," Javier spat angrily.

"But you told her, didn't you?" the capo pointed his gun at you and you let out another frightened whimper, closing your eyes, petrified.

"You shoot either of us? It's life in prison. Your whole cartel goes bust. Don't make a mistake here." Javier just needed to buy a little more time….

"She told me it was your birthday," the capo chuckled. "How ironic. You were born today, you die today."

Just then, your front door burst off the hinges as Steve Murphy and an army of about 20 agents bolted through the tiny apartment, immediately shooting down the two sicarios and Steve held a gun to the capo's head. You could hear police and ambulance sirens outside as tears began to stream down your face. Your hope was cut short when the capo fired his gun.

You screamed as the pressure from the bullet knocked you off your chair and two the ground. He had shot right in your chest, just next to your collarbone. The pain was blinding and you curled your fingers into a fist. Another gunshot; and Steve had shot the capo down. Javier screamed your name and ran to your side, cradling you in his arms. He gently ripped the tape off your mouth and freed your ankles.

"I've got you baby, hey stay with me. I've got you." he whispered, nursing you in his arms.

"Javi," you choked out, wincing in pain.

"Can someone get me a flannel and there's a first aid kit under the bathroom sink!" Javier cried out, his voice hoarse as his red hot blood coursed through his veins. "Keep your eyes open. Keep looking at me. There's an ambulance outside. There'll be up here any minute."

"Javi… I love you so much." you sobbed. The pain was becoming unbearable and your eyes fluttered shut.

Javi cupped your cheek as one of the agents passed him a flannel and the med kit. He began to apply pressure to your wound. "Stay with me, stay with me angel. I love you."

Your breathing began to hitch and Javier was so afraid he was going to lose you for good. He was going to lose the love of his life. If anyone was meant to be shot, it should've been him. He cursed himself. It should've fucking been him.

Paramedics raced over to you and pulled Javier back. "Be careful with her." Javier exhaled, his hands shaking as Steve steadied him.

"She's going to be okay." Steve reassured his friends. "She's in good hands."

Permanent taglist (let me know if you would like to be added!): @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic

"This is all my fucking fault Steve." Javier cried, falling to his knees as his heart shattered into a million pieces. "This is all my fault."

NEXT PART

#javi peña #javier peña #javier pena x reader #javi pena x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fan #narcos

235 notes · View notes

morganaspendragonss · 4 years

Note

god your bthb prompts are so good 😭😭, i was wondering if you could do any of these with tarlos?

rage against reflection

suicide attempt

flashbacks

forced to kneel.

not all of them, of course! pick whichever you think you’ll do best at!

my only preference is physical whump at some point, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to! thank you love!

thank you my lovely!!! i chose forced to kneel - i hope you enjoy it! as always, i am looking for prompts to fill the remaining squares - if you have one, don’t hesitate to send me an ask!

@badthingshappenbingo prompt: forced to kneel

ao3 | 2.2k | tarlos

Carlos exchanged a tight-lipped look with his partner as they pulled up to the scene. Every available patrol unit had been called here, and he could see more than a few paramedic vehicles on standby in case things went south. He couldn’t help the nerves twisting his stomach into knots; hostage situations were always difficult, and there was something about today that had Carlos on edge.

He didn’t know why, but he had the strangest sense that something was about to go very wrong.

He and Rachel walked to where the lieutenant in charge of the scene was briefing them.

“We have reports of at least one hostile, but be aware that there may be more,” he was saying. “Presume they are armed. There are at least ten hostages, located in the conference room on the ground floor. Negotiation attempts have as yet been unsuccessful; the suspects’ motives are unclear.

“A group of you will enter the building with a view to neutralising the suspect. I’m sure it goes without saying, but do not engage in a manner that would harm the hostages, or you. Let’s not make this any more complicated than it needs to be. Understood?”

They nodded, at which the lieutenant appeared grimly satisfied. He began assigning positions, and Carlos knew even before he got to them what he was going to say.

Sure enough, “Reyes, Moreno - you’re going in,” the lieutenant said. “Get ready.”

“Yes, sir.”

Carlos’s nerves only grew as they strapped on their bulletproof vests, and he checked his gear twice to make sure he was prepared. Rachel nodded tightly at him and he returned the gesture, before heading into position.

Tightening his grip on his gun, Carlos spared a brief thought for TK. TK, who would no doubt hear about this over the news, if the numerous press vehicles arriving on scene were any indication. Carlos just hoped he would make it out of this in one piece, so he could get home to his boyfriend and collapse into his arms.

He was broken from his thoughts by the order to enter crackling over the line. Carlos let out a shaky breath, then steeled himself, body tight as they headed stealthily through the hotel. They managed to locate the conference room without any problems, though Carlos’s instincts were screaming at him that something was wrong.

There were four of them, though; surely one of them would have noticed if anything was truly amiss?

No sound came from inside the room. Locking eyes with Rachel, Carlos held up his fingers and silently counted down before forcing their way inside, guns drawn.

There was no one there. No one, except for the terrified hostages tied up at the far end. After sweeping the room, Carlos rushed over to them, Rachel on his heels, and began freeing them, holding a finger to his lips so they wouldn’t alert whoever had done this.

“Are you okay?” he murmured, pulling the gag out of the mouth of the woman in front of him.

She nodded. “Yes, thank you, I -” She trailed off, her eyes widening at something over Carlos’s shoulder at the same time as Rachel yelled his name.

Carlos didn’t even get a chance to turn before something cracked across the back of his head, and the world went dark.

He woke slowly, the fog in his brain taking a long time to clear. When it did, Carlos realised several things all at once.

One: he no longer had his gun or radio.

Two: he was tied up, and a quick glance to his right showed him that Rachel and the other two officers with them were in a similar situation.

And three: he might not make it back to TK after all.

It was this final thought that kicked his brain back into gear, and he frantically tried to come up with a plan to salvage the situation. There were two men standing on the other side of the room, and a third by the door - the hostage-takers, he presumed. None of them were looking directly at him, so Carlos tugged experimentally on his bindings. To his surprise, they were fairly loose; if he was quick, and quiet, he might be able to get free.

What he’d do then, Carlos didn’t know, but one step at a time.

Keeping one eye on the men, he carefully maneuvered himself, twisting until, at last, the ropes fell away from his wrists. He let out a relieved breath, then turned to Rachel, reaching to pull at her bindings.

He didn’t get far, however, when hands were on him, wrenching him away from her.

“Hey!” one of the men growled. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Carlos didn’t answer, praying that Rachel would have the sense to finish freeing herself and do something while they were focused on him. He yanked himself out of the man’s grip and managed to deliver a blow to his face before he was grabbed again, this time being forced to his knees.

The cool metal of a gun pressed against his forehead, and Carlos didn’t miss the sound of the safety clicking off.

“Trouble, aren’t you?” the man holding the gun hissed. “We’re going to have to do something about that.”

Carlos closed his eyes, allowing his body to sag minutely. The grip they had on him was too firm; there was no way he’d be able to escape from this kneeling position without earning a bullet to the head.

Though, he thought mournfully, there probably wasn’t anything he could do to avoid that bullet at this point anyway.

For the second time, he thought of TK, holding his face in his mind’s eye. He’d never hold him again, never kiss him again, but if he had to die, then Carlos was going to do it with the comfort that his last thought would be of TK’s smile as they had parted that morning.

Distantly, he heard a quiet click, and then -

TK checked his pocket for the twelfth time in five minutes as he exited the locker room, grinning when his fingers closed around the small velvet box.

If everything went to plan, in a couple of hours, Carlos would no longer be his boyfriend, but his fiancé. The thought sent a thrill through him, though it also simultaneously set his nerves spiking. Logically, he knew nothing could go wrong; he’d planned the evening to a tee, and he was confident that Carlos would say yes.

Buying the ring had been hard, memories flashing through his mind of the last time he had been in that position. But he was doing it for all the right reasons this time, and TK knew that Carlos was it for him. Proposing would be a formality, really, though that didn’t make it any less special.

He’d even begged Carlos’s mom’s help in teaching him to make tamales, and he was going to pick up a flower arrangement on his way home.

Everything would be perfect.

His teammates were still sitting in the communal area when he entered, eyes glued to the tv screen. TK frowned; he thought they’d have all gone home by now.

Paul was the first to notice him, and TK’s concern only grew as he got everyone else’s attention, their worried gazes falling on him one by one.

“What’s going on?” he asked warily. They had a silent argument, before Marjan slowly got to her feet, approaching him hesitantly, hands clasping and unclasping in front of her.

“I know you’re probably going to anyway, but don’t freak out.” She took a deep breath and met his eyes. “There’s a hostage situation at that big, fancy hotel across town. Apparently it’s pretty serious, they’ve had to send police in, and, um, well…”

Marjan paused, and TK felt dread wash through him, knowing what her next words would be.

“He’s there, TK. He’s gone in.”

TK spent the next hour alternating between pacing and staring at his phone, desperately hoping for it to ring. Paul had shut the news off pretty quickly after an announcement that shots had been fired had nearly sent TK into a panic attack, and now they were all watching him closely, to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid, TK guessed.

It made his skin crawl, having so many pairs of eyes on him, even if he understood why. He appreciated it, really, but if anything, it just made the urge to run stronger. He was about to make a break for the doors - just for some air - when a shrill sound cut through the tense silence.

TK’s phone rang.

He didn’t bother to check the id before answering, almost dropping his phone in his haste. “Carlos?”

“Um, no,” a distinctly female voice said. “It’s Rachel, actually, I’m Carlos’s -”

“His partner,” TK cut in, anxiety roiling in his stomach at the knowledge that it was Carlos’s partner, not Carlos himself who called him. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” Rachel answered, apparently undeterred by TK’s lack of politeness. But he barely got a moment to feel relieved before she continued, “He’s in the hospital.”

TK let out a choked sound. “Hospital?” he whispered, the team looking up at him in alarm. “Hospital isn’t fine.”

“I know; that came out wrong.” She sighed. “Carlos got caught up in the middle of the shooting and a bullet grazed his side, but he’s okay, I swear. Last I heard, they want to keep him overnight for observation, but he’ll be fine.”

TK collapsed into the nearest chair, his head falling into his hands. Someone - he couldn’t tell who - started rubbing soothing circles on his back, and TK unashamedly leaned into the touch. “Which hospital is he at?” he eventually managed.

“St. David’s.”

“Thank you, Rachel.”

“Yeah, no problem.” A pause. “He really saved our asses today. I thought you’d want to know.”

TK breathed out shakily as he ended the call, allowing himself a moment to ride out the residual anxiety still coursing through his body.

“You okay, man?” Paul asked tentatively.

TK looked up at them. “Can one of you drive me to the hospital?”

As Rachel had promised, Carlos was sitting up in bed when TK arrived, looking as he always did - beautiful, happy, alive. His face lit up with a grin when he spotted him, and TK all but ran to him, barely remembering to thank Judd for the ride.

“Carlos,” he choked out, tears springing unbidden to his eyes as he carefully hugged him, mindful of his wound. Carlos hugged him back, his head buried in TK’s shoulder.

“It’s okay, Ty,” he said. “I’m okay.”

TK pulled back, his hands moving to frame Carlos’s face. “Are you, though?” he asked, checking his boyfriend over.

“I am,” Carlos promised. “They’re even sending me home tomorrow.”

He smiled, and TK couldn’t help but to smile back, falling into the chair next to the bed. He grasped Carlos’s hand in his own, rubbing his thumb across it as a comfortable silence fell between them.

“So much for date night, huh?” Carlos joked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

TK laughed drily. “Yeah,” he said. “Your mom’s going to be so disappointed you never got to try the tamales she helped me make.”

He said the words without thinking, and regretted them as soon as they were out. TK winced as Carlos straightened, turning to stare at him.

“You’ve been cooking with my mom?” he asked, shock and confusion evident in his voice.

“Um.” TK swallowed nervously. “Yes?”

Carlos frowned. “But… Why?”

“I, uh… Fuck.” TK closed his eyes, knowing there was no way he could talk his way out of this one. When he opened them again, he shifted in his seat, breaking their hands apart, and reached in his pocket for the ring box. “For the record, I had a whole plan for tonight, and not one part of it involved my boyfriend being in the hospital.”

“What are you talking about, Ty?” Carlos asked, bemused.

TK smiled at him, pulling the box out. Carlos’s mouth dropped open in shock when he saw it, and there were tears in his eyes when he looked back at him.

TK took a deep breath. “Carlos, these past two years with you have been the happiest of my life. You brought colour back into my life, and you’ve kept it there every single day. I love you more than I ever realised was possible, and I want to spend the rest of my life loving you. I never imagined that I would be asking you this in a hospital room, but I guess it’s kind of fitting for us, huh? So - Carlos Reyes, will you marry me?”

For a few nerve-wracking seconds, Carlos just stared, gaze flicking between TK’s face and the open ring box, tears slipping down his cheeks. Then, he brought his hands to TK’s face, a broad smile on his lips.

“TK Strand, I will marry you.”

And TK laughed, not caring about the tears on his own cheeks as he slipped the ring onto Carlos’s finger, leaning forward to kiss him. They were both smiling too much for it to be a proper kiss, but TK found he didn’t care - nor did he care that his plan hadn’t worked out.

Because Carlos Reyes was his fiancé, which TK thought was pretty damn perfect.

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years

Text

EUPHORIA - Chapter 24

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: He’s Dean Winchester, owner of a shady night club. She’s a journalist who has been asked to write an article to expose the indecency and debauchery that’s going on behind closed doors. But he’s also Dean Winchester, the boy who sat next to her in class. The boy who was too cocky for his own good.

Chapter Warning: NSFW, flangst

WC: 2824

A/N: This chapter fills my ‘voice kink’ square for @spnkinkbingo.

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons <3

This series is complete on Patreon!

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Become a Patron ~ Buy me a coffee

He’s pissed and overly grumpy. It’s too fucking early to be dealing with bullshit. But he’s also grumpy because he had to see Y/N off.

Walking around the corner, Cas’ notices him and nods.

“Again?” Dean asks, sees them washing down the red paint. It looks bloody and it smells awful. It almost made him nauseous.

“Yeah,” Cas sighs, “It’s nothing I couldn’t deal with, so I didn’t feel the need to call you.”

“That’s okay,” Dean crosses his arms over his chest, watches the paint come off the walls before he turns to Cas, “Security footage?”

“We got it,” Cas says, but he doesn’t look happy about it so Dean already knows that it’s probably not even worth mentioning, “The guy wore a Vendetta mask and was dressed in black.”

“Great,” Dean breathes out, his hand goes up to rub at his forehead. There’s a puddle of paint running down the pavement towards him, and he takes a step to the side.

It’s moments like these that Dean wants to give up completely. That he wants to just sell the whole fucking thing and go do something else, being a fucking accountant for the firm Sam’s working in or just something that’s less stressful. Somewhere where he has to deal with less hate, maybe. Less jealousy.

He places a hand on Cas’ shoulder, “You go home and get some shut eye. I’ll see you for the briefing later,”

“‘K,” Cas answers and turns to walk away. Looking back, he calls out to Dean, “Balth is waiting in your office!”

Dean groans and rolls his eyes at that.

Apparently, he can’t catch a fucking break around here.

Dean walks into his office and sees Balthazar sitting on the couch. The man’s busy working on his laptop. A scent of coffee lingers in the air. He must have brought a cup with him because Dean doesn’t have a coffee machine in his office. What he has, though, is a fucking bar and he wonders if it would be too soon to pour himself a couple of fingers? It’s probably five o’clock somewhere , right?

Even though his mouth waters at the thought of the burning liquid filling his throat and clouding his head, Dean abandons the thought quite quickly. She doesn’t like him to drink. It has a lot to do with how she grew up and Dean respects that, has toned it down since Y/N came back into his life, and he wants to keep that up.

“Balth,” Dean greets the man and walks over to his desk, sits down with a loud grunt, “What can I do for you?”

“How’s your hand?”

“Good.” Dean nods and holds it up, takes a look at it himself.

It’s bandaged. Y/N was telling him that he should let her do it or she’ll get angry at him. He smirks at the memory. He would have loved to say that she could get mad all she wants, because he likes how cute she looks when she’s mad, but he thinks that would have been a bad move on his part, so he just held still while she sat on his lap and bandaged his hand. The lap sitting was a deal he negotiated because he said that he wouldn’t let her if she wouldn’t sit on his lap. She rolled her eyes but sat down and it’s crazy how his lap was made for her to sit on.

Balthazar clears his throat before he closes his laptop, and Dean is catapulted back to reality. Back to an annoying work day. He thinks maybe he should take a break, ask her if she’s game to go on a road trip. Just the two of them, driving where the road takes them with no clear destination. Dean doesn’t think he needs one with her.

“I’ve stayed with Cole after you left.” Balthazar says while he places his laptop back into its bag.

“And?” Dean frowns.

“He won’t press charges,”

Dean snorts, “Yeah, because we have the upper hand.”

It’s no surprise. Dean knew that he wouldn’t. If he would, he’d see his ass in jail and Dean doubts that Cole would survive a day in there. All Dean wanted was to make a statement and he thinks that he was pretty clear about what the statement entailed.

“Still, you should be more careful with breaking bones.” Balthazar gets up from the couch and walks over to the chair across from Dean. He doesn’t sit down, though, only braces his hands on it, leaning in a little.

“He was touching what’s fucking mine, Balth. What do you want me to do?” Dean shouts out and immediately regrets his outburst because it hurt his own ears. He pinches the bridge of his nose. It’s too fucking early.

When Dean calms down a little, he asks, “So, you had your eyes on him? He wasn’t anywhere near the club?”

“Nope, I drove him to the ER and he underwent surgery to correct his fucking jaw that you broke. He’ll stay there for the next two days, at least.”

“Good,” Dean nods. It’s not exactly good when it comes to the club, though, because Cole’s out of the picture, “Can you get more people on board? I want someone watching the club after closing. It’s a tiny window of time, three, maybe four hours.”

Balthazar nods, “I can do that.”

After Balthazar left, Dean decided to start up his computer since he hasn’t checked his emails for a couple of days now. He deliberately doesn’t have his work emails on his phone. It’s his private property and he made it clear from the beginning that he’s separating work and private life.

Dean clicks through the emails. There are some new member sign ups that he needs to go through. Some harmless threats which he usually bins right away. But then there are some mails that are more worrying as well.

He clicks on the first one with the title I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST NIGHT . The email opens up to pictures of the altercation in front of Y/N’s office building. Dean can see that it was shot from across the street. Maybe from a parked car. He immediately forwards the pictures to Balthazar.

There are more emails. Without pictures though, just words. Hurtful ones.

I WILL TAKE YOU AND YOUR CLUB DOWN

YOU ARE A FUCKING DISGUSTING HUMAN BEING

SHAME ON YOU

YOUR CLUB WILL BE CLOSED. MARK MY WORDS

It’s really nothing new. He gets those threats quite a lot and he always makes sure to block the sender but they keep making new email accounts and so he’ll keep deleting and blocking them. Dean can’t win in this, but neither can they, so at least there’s that.

Later in the day, while Dean’s briefing his employees, his phone vibrates in his pocket. He fishes it out, thinks it’s Balthazar calling him about new developments. The man had called earlier already, only to suggest for Dean to get a fucking bodyguard but Dean really doesn’t know about that. He just thinks it’s a waste of money. Only when Balth mentioned that Y/N’s safety might be in danger too, does Dean at least agree to consider it.

Dean stops his speech to look at the caller ID, has to suppress his smirk while he holds up his index finger, “I gotta take this one, Cas?”

“Yeah,” The other man jumps in, grins himself because he knows, and Dean actually wants to wipe that smile from Cas’ face but he gotta hurry if he wants to take it before she hangs up on him.

Dean turns around, picks it up, smiles like an idiot because apparently, he lost the ability to control his fucking face, “Hey,” Dean walks up the stairs and disappears into the VIP room for some privacy.

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting? You must be busy.”

It sounds like she’s pouting, Dean bites back a chuckle, “No, it’s okay, you never interrupt. How’s the workshop going?”

He tries to sound cheerful, doesn’t want to tell her about the things that happened yet. There’s no need for her to worry, really.

“Ugh, boring,” Y/N sighs, and adds, “I have a short break before I have to go for the mandatory dinner.”

Dean flips his wrist, sees that it’s past 5pm. He grins, “You wanna spice things up at the dinner?”

“Dean,”

“What?” He chuckles.

“Well,” Her voice is almost whiny as she considers his words, “Yeah?”

“That’s my girl,” Dean smiles, “Jesus, I’m getting all excited myself.”

Cas appears in the room and Dean nods at him, “Baby, I gotta go, I need to finish something here,”

“Okay,” It sounds like she’s pouting and god, Dean feels bad for making her feel like he doesn’t have time for her or that he doesn’t care when all he’s doing is to make fucking time. But he guesses she’ll understand once they see each other.

“Wear it and let me know when you’re going to dinner, alright?”

“Yeah,” She sighs, “Miss you.”

Dean sighs, closes his eyes briefly, his heart flutters at those words. He smiles at the feeling, “I miss you, too.”

Y/N runs up to her room right after dinner, keys in her hand and leans back against the closed door as soon as she’s inside. She’s dripping wet from that vibe but she didn’t come yet. She doesn’t know how Dean does it but he always managed to stop when she’s about to come, making her whine out audibly once, and when Charlie, her friend from college who sat next to her asked what was wrong, she just said that she liked the food very much.

God, it was so embarrassing!

She thinks about calling him but he’s probably busy working as it’s already past 10pm and the club is at its peak right about now.

Taking off her shoes, she walks to the bathroom to clean her face and she brushes her teeth, walking out into the bedroom shortly after. She quickly gets out of her dress and slips out of her panties that are completely soaked.

The device is still inside of her and clear enough, it starts to buzz again, making her shriek out. She swears if he won’t let her come again—

—her phone rings.

Letting herself fall onto the bed, still in only her bra and nothing else — except for the vibrator in her pussy — she grabs at her clutch that she left there before she walked to the bathroom.

Dean.

The vibrator still buzzes lightly inside of her and she picks up, has to gnaw on her bottom lip to suppress the moan.

“You are the worst!” It blurts out of her as soon as she swipes her thumb across the screen.

“Wait, what?” He’s laughing loudly.

“Yeah,” She pouts and moves up the bed, rests her back against the headboard while she spreads her legs and enjoys the buzzing between her thighs, “You turn me on and then you stop, and I was so close to coming.”

“Awe, poor baby,” Dean says in his mumbling voice and it sounds so fucking sexy, “Are you still turned on?”

“Yeah,” She mutters under her breath, “Please, you have to let me come.”

“I don’t know,” He chuckles, “Have you been good, Y/N?”

Oh my god , he’s pulling that card, isn’t he?

“I have. Please?” She nods and whines, teeth sinking into her bottom lip when she feels the buzzing getting stronger, moaning out shamelessly.

“Christ, you sound so fucking sexy,”

She can hear him growl on the other end.

“No, you do,” There’s another increase of vibration and god, it makes her arch her back, as a shrieking sound rolls off her tongue.

“I do? I don’t think so, sweetheart. I’m getting hard just hearing you moan.”

“It— ah— it’s your v—voice, Dean.”

“My voice? What’s with my voice, baby?”

And it’s like he’s taunting her because it rolls deep, smooth like fucking honey and it feels like he’s wrapping her up in the warm sound. He increases the vibrations, and she didn’t know it could go further up but it does. One of her hands goes to her tit, kneads at it while she has a tight grip around her phone with the other.

“Ah— it’s.. Fuck— it’s so deep and gravelly and oh god— it’s sexy,”

“Yeah?” He chuckles, “Bet you’re so wet, ain’tcha, baby? You always are so wet for me. It’s the fucking best thing. Especially when you gush and come around my cock, Jesus—”

His breathing is ragged, he’s turned on too.

Good , she thinks. At least she’s not the only one.

“My panties were soaked. I took them off and now I’m on my bed in only my bra,” She manages to say, tongue darts out to wet her lips, “Wish you were here.”

“I wish I was there too. Wish I could kiss you. I’d be right between your thighs right now, eating you out like you’re the sweetest thing, because you fucking are,” It comes out a little strained, “Does me telling you these thing turn you on, huh?”

“Yeah,” She chokes out a moan, “You could read me the goddamn phone book and it would turn me on, Dean.”

“Christ, I’m just imagining you right now, all spread out and wet,” There’s a low growl before he speaks again, “Can you do me a favor, huh?”

“Uh-huh,”

“Use your words, sweetheart,” His voice is more stern. Doesn’t make it less sexy, though.

“Yes,”

“Good girl,”

God the praise . Y/N has to press her thighs together, already so fucking close.

Dean goes on, “Take off your bra for me, baby. Take your thumb and forefinger, give them a firm tug for me, bet your nipples are sensitive, huh? I wanna hear you.”

She sits up to unclasp her bra before she throws it carelessly into the room. Leaning back again, her right hand goes to her left nipple, tugs hard and moans out in pained pleasure.

“Good girl,” He coos, “Such a fucking good girl,”

The vibration increases again and she thinks that’s the maximum it can go. Hopes it is, because she’s right there, dancing dangerously on the edge.

“Dean, please, I’m—”

“—I got you, baby,” He breathes out a soft chuckle, “Come, you can come, now. Come for me, okay? I wanna hear you come for me.” His whispering low, and the words paired with his voice, plus the added buzzing in her cunt was enough to tip her over.

Oh god. His voice is really out of his world. She comes with a squeal. His name rolls off her tongue as she squeezes her eyes shut and her legs start to tremble. Her hips buck up and she doubles over and has to roll herself into a fetal position on the bed.

There’s a ringing in her ear from the orgasm and she feels the vibration getting softer until it’s completely gone. Dean’s voice is faint in her ear through the phone.

Good girl. My fucking good girl.

She swallows hard, her eyes are still closed. When Y/N comes back to her senses, she starts to giggle and then she hears it. The knock at her door.

“What’s so funny?” Dean asks as she sits up straight, startled from the knocking.

“Oh my god, someone just knocked at my door.” She says, her heart’s still pounding fast.

“Go on, open it.”

“No, who would knock at this time of night? I’m sure they just have the wrong room.” She doesn’t know if she’s trying to talk to him or talk herself out of her anxiety of the realization that someone came knocking at her door late at night.

“Maybe it’s room service?”

“Dean, I just came from dinner, I didn’t order anything!”

“Jesus Christ, I didn’t think it would be this hard!” Dean growls and she might be hearing things because she hears the deep growl outside of her door? He sighs then, “Baby, I really think you should open up.”

“Oh my god, you didn’t... Dean, no.” She scrambles off the bed, and somehow she doesn’t even care if she’s fucking naked.

“Dean, yes!” He chuckles lightly, “Come on, I’m standing in the hallway with a visible boner and I think if someone sees it, they’ll call the cops.”

She hangs up and drops the phone onto the bed as she makes her way to the door, opens it up wide to see Dean smiling at her.

Chapter 25

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

#euphoria #spnkinkbingo #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

201 notes · View notes

prurientpuddlejumper · 4 years

Text

You’re a Mean One, Mr. Kneef (Part 1)

Part 2 ->

For @thatesqcrush’s Holiday Bingo! Filling the Grinch/Scrooge square

Bryan Kneef x Female Reader

Warnings: NSFW. No smut, just a... situation in which Bryan has zero sense of shame. Honestly it’s straight-up workplace sexual harassment. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

1,576 words

Festive lights were strung around the offices of STR Laurie, but their merry glow added no holiday cheer to the hearts of all of those forced to come into work on Christmas Eve. Everyone was supposed to have the day off, or at least get a half-day. However, the sun was setting over the Chicago skyline, and at least a dozen paralegals were still frantically toiling over the enormous workload dumped on them last minute by one Bryan Kneef.

It didn’t seem like a particularly important case or a particularly critical motion, but according to Mr. Kneef, it was worthy of an all-hands-on-deck situation that would make as many employees as possible miss dinner with their families.

In fact, as you glared over the top of your monitor at his office—the curtains drawn and the lights dimmed within—you were pretty sure he wasn’t even working on this “important” case. He was probably fucking napping. This was all some sadistic Scrooge-like tactic to make everyone miserable just because he didn’t have anywhere to be tonight.

As the angled light streaming in through the window turned dusky orange with no end to the work in sight, you’d had enough. You stood up, marched across the office, and barged through Mr. Kneef’s door without knocking, certain you were going to catch him with his eyes closed on the couch.

Instead, you caught him behind his desk, furiously masturbating to porn.

He stopped, but unlike a decent human being who would yelp in surprise and frantically sputter apologies for being caught dick-in-hand, he wasn’t startled by your entrance and made no particular hurry to cover himself. He clicked a button on the keyboard, and the rhythmic sounds of moaning stopped.

His eyebrows raised at you impatiently as if you’d interrupted him on a phone call.

You slammed the door behind you—the rest of the office didn’t need to hear this.

“What the fuck, Mr. Kneef? This case is so important we have to work through fucking Christmas, and you’re in here jerking off?”

“Your point?”

“Fuck you!”

His lips pushed up into an excessive frown that made his beard bristle, and he raised his brows, not disagreeing and seemingly impressed with your audacity.

“Fine. Come here.” He patted his lap, smirking, legs spread wide in his leather chair. His semi-hard cock was still sitting naked and pink outside his deep navy dress pants.

Now he’d crossed the line into making your skin crawl.

“OK, I’m calling HR.”

He scoffed and tucked himself back into his pants. “You said fuck me.”

He wasn’t swayed by your threat to report him—what was important was that you had been the first to blink. You didn’t really look offended, anyway. If you had blushed like a nun and hidden your eyes when you walked in on him, he wouldn’t have been so provocative (he wasn’t a complete monster). If you had fucking knocked, you wouldn’t have walked in on anything. But you had the balls to barge in and dress down your superior. The number-one asshole of the firm was not about to let you challenge him and win.

You closed your eyes and tried to compose yourself, ignoring the flush of heat surging behind your ribs and pooling between your legs from his sleazy request. Ew—body, what? Don’t be gross.

“So. You have a problem with the work I’ve assigned you?” He set his elbow on the table and rested his beard in his hand. His voice was as casually mocking as ever, as if this whole situation was perfectly normal.

“Yeah. It’s bullshit. We’d all like to go home if this motion isn’t so vitally pressing it can’t wait until Monday.”

“I see.”

“Don’t you have anywhere to be?”

There was a twitch in his face at that. He tried to remain as callous and inscrutable as ever, but the question revealed a tension that wasn’t obvious before. Beside his computer was a bottle of Scotch and an almost-empty glass. Next to that was a small rectangular box, neatly wrapped with shiny silver paper and a gold bow. He glanced down at it, and he looked, for a brief instant, sad.

He wasn’t so intimidating when his cold eyes turned pitiful like that. Almost like he was human.

In contrast to his distasteful personality, his eyes were a beautiful, delicate green even in the dim light. It was enough to make you admit how handsome the lawyer was—the dark beard, the flecks of silver streaking through his flawlessly-styled hair. If he turned out to have actual human feelings beneath the swagger, you might even like him.

You sat down in the small chair opposite him at his desk. His eyes had already retaken their cold, mocking air, but you tried appealing to the hypothetical inner-human in him anyway. “Do you have any Christmas traditions? A family you want to see? You must at least remember being a kid—how special the holidays are at that age. Dana has two kids waiting at home, and this is the only time of year Paul gets to see his nephews.”

“You think I give a shit about sob stories? They have a job to do. If they don’t like it, they can quit.”

“Fine”—Screw playing nice—“How about this: I can call HR about the porn on your work computer.”

He glowered back at you, appraising the sincerity of your threat. “The whole HR department is eating turkey right now. So, you can file a complaint on Monday. Maybe I get a warning? Won’t help you tonight. Sorry, sweetheart. Finish the motion, you can go home.” His piercing eyes stared at you, waiting. “Will that be all?”

Instead of retreating in an indignant huff as he full-well expected you to do, you shoved aside a handful of papers and the Scotch bottle to clear a spot on his desk, and sat on it so you were looking down on him, thoroughly invading his personal space. “What do you want? Why are you doing this? Don’t pretend it isn’t out of spite. Let me guess… you didn’t want to spend another Christmas alone getting sad-drunk on expensive whisky, so you decided to do this instead of pick up a hooker?”

He glared harshly but otherwise didn’t react.

“How about this? I’ll take one for the team and go drinking with you—just tell everyone else they can go home, Ebenezer.”

He rolled his eyes contemptuously and explained in no uncertain terms that that was not going to happen. But maybe it was your flirtatious body language, or the stubborn way you refused to back down, or that you weren’t intimidated by him like every other subordinate around here. Maybe he was just lonely. But you were irritating in a way he liked. And just desperate enough to do him a favor.

“If we left together, we would not be going out drinking,” he growled.

You rightly mistook it for an invitation to bed—because he deliberately intoned it as such to rile you up, so when you spat, “Fuck you!” he could feign innocent victimhood.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he said. “I do have somewhere to be tonight—a family dinner. If you are serious about wanting to get me out of here, that’s where we’d go.” Of course, if you’d jumped at the offer to fuck him, he would have accepted that, too.

Now you were just confused. “You want… to take me to meet your parents? Why…?”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, already kicking himself for what he was about to tell you. But fuck it. You would have to find out if you were going to help, and he could use you and your massive balls to solve his little dilemma. Ovaries? Yeah. Your big brass ovaries.

“My parents are expecting me to show up with my long-term girlfriend. They have been... annoyingly eager to meet her tonight, and she just fucking dumped me.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry.” Being dumped sucked. Not that you’d ever take it out on a dozen coworkers, but assholes grieve differently. “How long were you together?”

“Three months.”

You blinked. “Oh my god, that is not a long-term relationship. Jesus, what standard are you going by? One-night stands?”

He bristled at the question, and you had a distinct impression that—yeah—the comparison was one-night stands.

“Irrelevant. I don’t want to spend the entire night fielding questions about what happened, sitting through my dad’s relationship advice, and dodging pitying glances.”

“So you invented a work emergency. Classy. Never thought I’d see the great Bryan Kneef, lady killer, on his knees over someone he dated for three months.

“I am not broken up about it,” he snapped. “I just don’t want to deal with the bullshit from my family. So, you want to get out of here? Pretend to be my date for a few hours. You don’t have a problem lying, do you? We can break up after New Year’s. Deal?”

“You’ll let everyone else go home?”

He protested and made a counter-offer, but after much bargaining and negotiation, he finally gave in and agreed to your terms.

And that was how you saved Christmas and became the unsung hero of the entire office. None of your coworkers would know the sacrifice you made for them, the awkward dinner you had to endure, or all of the illuminating secrets you would learn that night about the biggest asshole at the firm.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tags:

@beccabarba / @caked-crusader / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy / @mrsrafaelbarba / @madamsnape921 / @astrangegirlsmind

#Bryan Kneef #bryan kneef x reader #Raúl Esparza #thatesqcrush holiday bingo #my writing

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tangleweave · 3 years

Text

Crimson Tide (Drabble / RP)

[ @illbringthechaosmagic ]

An anonymous person has been taunting Stephen that a loved one has been taken captive...

Stephen Strange was not a patient man. He didn't like it when things came slowly, but he had learned how to deal with slow processes, as long as he could be assured of rewards down the line. Even less than slow progress did he like things that threw him off his rhythm. To be interrupted in his work was to invite his wrath, and by the Fates, could he be creative with his wrath.

That had been long before the car accident and the Sorcerer Supreme thing.

But now, the odd woman who had come to him to explain to him, in interestingly explicit terminology, that Wanda was being held prisoner... not only was she an interruption, she was an active irritant. An antagonist? No... not for him. To qualify as an antagonist, there were several things that needed to happen, not the least of which being a need to demonstrate a direct threat. So far she had shown him no evidence that she posed any harm whatsoever, and certainly not within the welcoming room for Kamar-Taj, where two other sorcerers stood at polite but firm attention in the corners.

She was seated in the wooden chair dead center of the room, legs crossed, hands folded in her lap. Her dusky skin and wavy black hair shone in the sunlight that filtered through the ceiling slats. Her accent indicated she wasn't Nepalese, though she could easily be from India or some other adjacent region. She seemed curiously calm for someone in his presence who knew the things he was capable of.

Fine. If she wanted to play mind games, he could play them too. He moved to a cabinet and withdrew a pair of long yellow leather gloves, the cuffs of which were adorned with delicate sigils of black and gold. He had his back slightly turned as he began to don them.

"What now?" he heard her taunt. "Does the great Doctor Strange mean to get blood on his hands?"

He glanced towards her with eyebrow arched as he slid the second glove on. "Obviously not," he said, "otherwise I wouldn't be gloving up."

She thrust her chin out towards him. "You don't frighten me."

"Of course I do. I'm a doctor. Being attended by one is inherently frightening. It means there's something wrong with you. And there must be something deeply wrong with you, in particular, if you thought you were just going to waltz in here, declare that you're holding a friend and ally prisoner, and then not make any demands in exchange for her release." He held up his hands, palms towards himself. "Hadn't you heard? This is Kamar-Taj, where I had my operation to restore function to my hands. These are examination gloves. We don't have the kind of funds needed for single-use non-latex, so we go for longevity instead. After we're done with a particularly... messy... procedure, we use a sodium hydroxide solution to rinse off the pairs we do have. But don't worry, it shouldn't burn your skin too badly, long as I don't touch you for more than a couple seconds."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You are a doctor. Your job is to not harm others."

"Oh, I see." He frowned and tilted his head at her. "Remind me again, what year is it? 2024? That means my medical license lapsed, uh... six years ago. Y'know, shortly after that niggling little part where half the world vanished. And saving all the people that were left over, that was an all-hands-on-deck situation. Things got ugly, if you'll recall. Besides, what do you call it when a surgeon cuts someone open with a scalpel? Surely you would think that was causing harm... but in the pursuit of reducing greater harm, when removing a tumor." He laced his fingers together tightly, securing the gloves about his hands. "Wonder how many you've got." He began slowly stepping towards her.

"There is nothing wrong with me!" she protested, and her legs uncrossed. "I wished to ensure I had your attention before making demands."

"Don't worry, you have it," Stephen assured her. "And you were right about one thing, this doctor doesn't make house calls. So glad to be hosting you today. You're my first patient in months. The last one still hasn't healed up quite right."

"I am no patient!" she said indignantly, shifting in her chair as he continued to advance.

"Then we have something in common, since I'm exactly the opposite of patient," he returned, and he cupped his hands toward each other. A crackling cat's cradle of golden dimensional energy appeared, and when he pulled his hands more broadly apart, it stretched with them. Orange sparks snapped from the strands. Stephen frowned. "Well, what do you know, there's still a little hydroxide solution on the gloves after all." He shrugged. "That's fine, it should all burn off pretty quickly."

She got to her feet. "Your Cauldron of the Cosmos!" she blurted. "It is a relic stolen from the pyramids of Giza--"

Stephen whipped one hand out; the strands of energy wrapped about the woman and sizzled as they touched her, eliciting a shriek. He closed to within inches from her face. "It's an artifact forged by Agamotto the All-Seeing approximately eight thousand years ago. I'd say try again but I don't think your clothes have that kind of time. Where's the submarine?"

A crease formed between the woman's thick eyebrows at the absurd question, but the heat and crackling from the energy whips surrounding her were beginning to convince her of the threat he posed. "I... I don't..."

"Sure, sure, you don't know." He dismissed the whips, then noted the burn scarring on her clothing. "Mmm. That'll be hard to get out. I might know a tailor or two." He gestured at the chair. "Take a seat or that pantsuit's going to look like it went through a king-size waffle iron. And I don't even want to think about what it'll do to your hair."

She glowered at him but did as directed. "What do you mean 'submarine'?" she asked.

"Well, if you don't know where it is, there's not a whole lot of reason for me to explain it to you, is there?" he responded. "Sure makes you look like a schlub, though. Obviously you're not in charge, you're just following directions from whoever it is giving them to you. Whoever they are, they need to up your clothing allowance, and update their K&R policies. It's in my favor, though, they couldn't send an actual professional to negotiate for the Cauldron. I could have given the all-American line... 'I don't negotiate with terrorists.' Definitely what a Sorcerer Supreme dreams of saying to someone." He waved a dismissive hand. "That's fine, though. I've got another movie line I can hand you. 'I've got ways of making you talk.' Impressed?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I am no amateur. I have been immunized to truth serums and measures intended to force me to speak truth against my will. Even you cannot coerce me."

He scoffed and gave her a mirthless smile. "Truth? Who said anything about that? I want you to lie your ass off."

She frowned. "What...?"

He brought both hands up, fingers twiddling unsteadily in odd snaking motions, and gleaming neon-blue energy appeared in the air between them. His hands didn't meet -- one wrist hovered above the fingers of the other -- but the energy they conjured twisted unevenly in a warbling circle that settled about the chair. The thick strands of plasma braided around one another, and once the circle was fully enclosed, the space within was consumed with fierce blue light.

"A sorcerer of Kamar-Taj would refer to this as a Ring of Raggadorr. But a Dungeons & Dragons player would call it a Zone of Truth... with a Strange twist to it. While you're within it, you can't refrain from answering my questions, but instead of wasting my time trying to figure out whether you can actually resist a Zone of Truth, I've sealed you within a Zone of Lies. You're completely incapable of uttering the truth. And when I ask you questions, whatever the truthful answer is, you'll be giving me precisely the opposite one, or as close to the opposite as you're able." He flourished with one hand. "So, test question, do you know my name?"

"...no." The woman looked flummoxed at the answer coming from her own mouth.

Stephen smirked. "All right then, progress. Now, you're in charge of this operation, aren't you?"

"...yes."

"Where on the ladder are you?"

"The top."

Stephen chuckled. "Oh, honey. They really don't pay you enough for this gig, do they?"

"I am paid extremely generously."

"Yeah, that much is obvious."

She stood up from her chair and tried to take a step forward. The blue light surrounding her crackled much in the manner of a Star Trek forcefield, and she jumped back as if having been shocked. She cast a look at Stephen. "I wish to remain in this space eternally!"

Now Stephen had to raise a gloved hand to hide his widening smirk. "I'm considering it," he quipped. "This is a lot more fun than I imagined."

"I am also enjoying it immensely!" she shouted.

He poked a finger at her. "Try saying it with a sarcastic bend to it, if you can, I wanna see how deep this spell goes. Does it affect just your words? You're yelling so I can tell you're agitated, at least."

"I am not agitated! I am free to walk out of this enclosure at any time and I do not fear your powers!" She crossed her arms under her chest and glowered at the floor.

"Well, if this isn't a reflection of parenthood, I don't know what is," Stephen remarked. "But while this is entertaining, I have some actual work to do. So let's talk submarines. Your bosses work out of one, don't they?"

"...no."

"I see. And if I looked all over the world for it, there's only one place I would never find it. Where is that place?"

"...the Laurentian Abyss."

He arched an eyebrow at her. "Are you telling me that I can find the submarine in the Laurentian Abyss?"

"No, that is not what I am telling you."

Stephen had to try very hard not to crack a smile. "How very Red October of you. I think the Cauldron of the Cosmos can probably help me along from here... though I'm curious why you would even want it at all. Is there anybody among your employers and co-workers in this little venture that could even use it?"

"To the best of my knowledge, everyone there could. The Cauldron is of no particular fascination or consequence to my employers. They are not at all fascinated by its purported abilities. They would prefer to have Wanda, as a person is far more stable a commodity than an inanimate object. Should you refuse to surrender the Cauldron, my employers are not prepared to brainwash her for their purposes."

He scoffed. "Thought so. You know, you actually make it a lot more convincing now that you can't even say it properly. Should've tried it like this before, you'd have gotten my attention even sooner. Tell you what, you can hang out here while I get this problem sorted out." He turned toward the east hall, which would eventually lead him to the portal door that connected to the New York Sanctum.

"Wait!"

He turned back to her with his eyebrow up again. "Yes, what?"

"I do not wish to know how you knew of the submarine."

This time both eyebrows went up and he rubbed his temple. "Vishanti help me, I'm actually starting to get used to this," he muttered. Then he looked at her more directly. "It's not what you lied about, it's what you told me truthfully. You said straitjacket and shock collar. That's how Wanda was kept secured when she was a prisoner aboard the Raft. The only people who would know that was a successful method are people who saw it in action. But the Raft is stationary. Eventually someone would come knocking. The only way to keep a prisoner like her off the radar is to keep her moving. And aboard an underwater craft, even if she breaks loose, where would she go? Especially as far down as the Laurentian Abyss. So... submarine made the most sense."

The crease in her brow only deepened further. "I understand completely how you were able to make such deductions."

"Yeah, sometimes I even amaze myself." He glanced to the other two sorcerers in the room, then gestured at the woman. "Make her comfortable while she's waiting. But you're welcome to have a little fun with that spell while it's still active."

Without another word, he stalked his way up the hall and found the entrance to the New York Sanctum. A variety of obstacles to the matter at hand pervaded his thought process. If the submarine was indeed in the Laurentian Abyss, it meant that it was so deep, opening a direct portal to its interior would be a death sentence to anyone aboard; the bends would see to that. It needed to be forced to surface, and its own crew made to decompress the interior. He chewed his lower lip in thought. How would he get them to do that?

He was five steps away from the Cauldron when he stopped in place and rolled his eyes. Duh. He'd seen the damn movie. Simulate a radiation leak. It's not as if he was a Master of the Mystic Arts and claimed control over a vast breadth of energies.

"Thank you, Tom Clancy," he murmured as he approached the artifact.

#illbringthechaosmagic #muse: strange

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