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lowkeyerror · 2 months

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The Family Business Ch.4

WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Chapter Notes: Brief mention of the red room nothing crazy

Summary: Natasha is nervous about finally having some personal time with Wanda’s family. You help her fight through those nerves. Meanwhile Wanda struggles to come to terms with how much of your growth she missed.

An: Posting consistently again got me feeling in my prime. No promises, but might post chapter 5 later this week instead of next monday.

Series Masterlist| Masterlist

Once you were done with work, and had your flowers for Flora, you were ready to go to the Maximoff’s house. You’d sent a quick text to Dragos telling him that you’d bring Natasha with you, to save them an extra unnecessary trip.

You pack your things quickly and head to the car, Natasha follows behind you. When you get in the car, you finally notice the subtle nervousness of Natasha.

“Are you scared to meet Wanda’s mom?”

Natasha nods a little, “It’s more than that. You guys are the most important people in her life. She told me so herself. Dragos doesn’t like me yet, Pietro and I really just looked at each other, and I heard Flora’s got high standards when it comes to partners.”

“Well, they are the kindest people you could ever meet. All they'll care about is that you keep Wanda happy,” you insist.

“I think the kindness goes out of the window, when you find out your daughter got married to a Russian spy that tried to kill her,” Natasha mumbles.

You try to offer her some comfort, “I’m not going to argue with that but, you’ll get a little break, when I tell them I like you.”

“Really?”

“If Wanda told you all about me, then you should know they've got a soft spot for me,” you’re a little embarrassed when you say it, but it’s the truth.

If Natasha notices your embarrassment, she doesn't bring it up, “Wanda says you’re basically a Maximoff every time she tells a story about you.”

You smile, “I like to think of them as my family too. There’s been plenty of times where I want to call Dragos, papa. That means there’s even more times when I want call Flora Mama.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“I don’t want to take the chance and ruin our dynamic.”

The Russian sighs as the house comes into view. “I think they’d both love it. The way Wanda tells it, they feel as though you're one of their kids.”

You park the car before answering Natasha, “Maybe one day.”

With the hydrangeas in hand, you head to the front door. Natasha tries to walk behind you, but you pull her forward so she’s next to you.

“This is a family you have to face head on. Those uncertainties you have, keep them close to you. Don’t let them see your nerves because they’ll pounce. Just remember that you love Wanda, and she loves you too,” your attempt at a pep talk seems to calm her nerves a bit.

“You said they were nice people. Nice people don’t have warnings.”

You roll your eyes, “Natasha you secretly married the daughter of a crime lord without ever meeting the family, there’s a shitload of warnings.”

The door swings open before you have the chance to knock. You find yourself being pulled into a warm hug. It’s only a moment before Flora’s hands land on your face. She turns your head a couple times checking that you are fine, before planting a kiss on your cheek.

“Y/n, where have you been sweetheart? Too old to come see me anymore, huh? You’ve got bags under your eyes Malysh, have you been sleeping ok?”

You smile warmly at her antics, “I’ll never be too old to come visit my Flora. As a sorry, for being away I brought you these.”

Flora takes the flowers from you. “Always knowing how to get into my good graces, these are beautiful Y/n.” Her eyes dart to Natasha and you watch as her features go neutral.

“You must be Natasha.”

The red head extends her hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you Mrs.Maximoff.”

Flora shakes her hand, “Yes, if only we could've done this sooner. “

Natasha doesn’t shift at the words, but you can feel her nerves from besides you. Flora beckons you both into the house and you follow her into the kitchen. She grabs a vase for the flowers and begins to fill it with water.

“So, why Natasha?” She says as she places the flowers in the vase.

“I’m sorry?” Natasha is confused by the question.

Flora keeps her eyes on the flowers, “Why’d you pick the name Natasha? Natalia is a fairly pretty name, why not keep it?”

You weren't surprised that Flora had done some research on the woman. However, Natasha was taken aback by the question. She wasn’t expecting it, so it took her a moment to respond.

“As a spy, I have many aliases. However, Natasha never felt like an alias, she just felt like me. My parents and sister call me Natalia often just to tease me, but even they seem to like Natasha better.”

You decide to help the Russian out, “Are you close with your family, Natasha?”

She nods, “Very close. My parents took Yelena and I when we were very little. They saved us from some terrible people, I owe then everything. Though they'd never let me repay them.”

“Reminds me of us,” you say to Flora, who has now softened her gaze on the redhead.

Flora had a soft spot for children in tough places. You knew that's why she originally gravitated towards you, when Pietro first brought you around. This was the perfect topic to get Natasha on Flora’s good side.

“If we found you any younger you would've had our last name,” Flora places the vase the table. She eyes Natasha for a moment before asking about her childhood, “Foster care?”

Natasha stiffens a little, “Worse. Young girls all taken and trained to be weapons for whatever they needed.”

Flora’s eyes become glossy, “The red room.”

Natasha’s gaze was locked on the floor, “Yeah.”

It is a quick turn of events when Flora wraps her arms around Natasha. She holds the woman firm as she begins to speak in Russian. You don't understand all of it, but it seems that Flora was intimately familiar with the place.

“You two go and make yourselves comfortable while I start dinner,” she says finally releasing Natasha.

“You don’t want help?”

Flora shakes her head, “Go, relax malysh. I’ve got it covered in here.”

Instead of leading Natasha to the living room, you take her to the backyard. There is a beautiful large grass area, with a nice garden space in the corner. The patio has the perfect view of the sunset. You sit on one of the patio chairs and Natasha sits beside you.

“I think that went well,” you say to her.

“Thanks to you, it went really well,” Natasha looks at you gratefully.

You shake your head, “I didn’t do much.”

Natasha argues back, “I see why they call you the glue. If you hadn’t made your comment, she would’ve slighted me all night.”

“Don’t give me too much credit, you would've had her the moment you asked how many people she killed,” you joke, and Natasha gets a bit embarrassed.

“Sorry, I guess I just- “

You stop her, “It’s fine, Nat. I’ve been underestimated all my life. My first kill is symbolic to me, even in that pitiful state, I was able to snap someone’s neck. I remember all of them, though it’s not a lot, I also remember each one getting easier.”

She looks at you, “The longer it gets, the less you remember, and then one day you’re left with the memory of how you used to feel about it. Maybe it fills you with pride in the beginning, but eventually killing just leaves you feeling empty.”

Wanda comes into the backyard before you could answer the Russian.

“She’s not giving you too much trouble is she, Y/n?”

Natasha sends her wife a pointed look. You laugh at the interaction.

“She’s a pleasure to have around. I can see why you married her, regardless of the assassination attempt.”

Wanda tilts her head but keeps a smile on her face, “Telling our love story without me, my love?”

“It just came up. How was the meeting?”

Wanda plops down next to you before leaning back, “Apparently Kingpin is looking to expand his control. At least that’s what Hammerhead said.”

You clench your jaw at the mention of the large man, “He’s such a greedy bastard. He has the second largest market besides us. Which means he thinks he can take over us. I couldn’t imagine being a guy that big with no fucking brains.”

Wanda shakes her head and chuckles slightly, “You sound just like Papa. He was pissed when he heard.”

“How is he now?” You ask knowing he could get a little reckless when he was angry.

“For now, he’s alright. I told him we could use Kingpin’s greed as an example. We can crush him and in turn teach the others not to try to cross us.”

Your hands reach to rub your temples, “You make it sound so easy.”

“It will be,” you can hear the determination in her voice.

Natasha interjects, “I think Y/n has a point. It’s definitely easier said than done.”

You keep your composure, “Kingpin selling is a problem in itself, but the people should know better than to buy from him. Whoever is making purchases with him is not being loyal to us. That means he’s making allies, or rather he is taking our allies away from us. It strengthens his numbers while diminishing ours. He’s trying to start a revolution.”

Before it could be discussed any further Dragos appears, “We can discuss it more tomorrow. Tonight, we celebrate Wanda’s homecoming… and marriage. Dinner is ready.”

You’re the first out of your chair and into the house. It leaves Dragos some time with the couple.

“Remember we only talk business outside of the office, if it is absolutely necessary,” he reminds his daughter.

“She still gets that way?” Wanda asks referring to you.

He shakes his head, “She’s just started brainstorming and it’s hard for her to put it aside. She’s not that timid little girl anymore.”

Wanda lets out an irritated sigh, “Why does everyone keep saying that? I know her just like everyone else, papa. I’ve cared for her, I’ve trained her, and- “

“You missed 5 years of her life; you missed her graduation, you missed her putting all of her training to practical use, you missed her joining the family business. No one is saying that you didn't know her well, but you can’t act like you witnessed her growth.”

“It’s not my fault that I wasn’t there,” she speaks through gritted teeth.

“No one is saying it was, malysh.”

Natasha grabs her wife’s hand, “We’re celebrating you tonight like your father said. Let’s just enjoy this and eat. You never stopped talking about your mother’s cooking and the longer we spend out here, the colder the food gets in there.”

Wanda gets up from her seat, “You’re right. I’m sorry Papa, I’m just not used to being home yet.”

“It’s alright, her growth is startling. I still remember how I felt when Pietro told me she killed a boy. It was a shock; I didn’t want to believe it. She was so delicate that I couldn't picture her doing it.”

“Y/n killed somebody?”

Natasha nods, “She told me about it. Y/n actually has a little ledger, 8 people.”

Wanda’s eyes widen, “She told you about it?”

The conversation stops there, when you come back, “Flora said if you guys don’t come to dinner now that Piet and I can have your plates.”

“You’d eat Wanda’s welcome home meal, that’s pretty criminal even by our standards,” Natasha says pulling her wife along into the house.

“Oh 100%, you would too if you had Flora’s cooking.”

The playful banter continues, even once everyone is sat at the dinner table. Conversation flows freely, but Wanda doesn't contribute much. All that circles her mind is you.

Her father’s words echo in her head. She had missed some of the most important moments of your life. Wanda was scared to admit that she hardly recognized the woman you’ve grown into.

It bothered her. She was jealous that everyone got to see you blossom, but her. Even Wanda’s wife seemed to know things about you that she didn’t. It was a pill that she didn’t want to swallow.

Her little Krolik wasn’t so little anymore.

Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername @likemick

#lowkeyerror #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #wandanat x reader #wandanat #pietro maximoff

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jjungkookislife · 2 months

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For Peep's Sake

♡ pairing: hfth!jungkook x f. reader

♡ genre: established relationship, easter au, college au, smut [18+]

♡ summary: Easter weekend takes you back to the Jeons for a weekend of fun.

♡ wc: 4.1k

♡ warnings: alcohol use/mention, food mention, dirty talk, oral sex (f. giving and receiving), panties used as a gag, cum swallowing, quickie, unprotected sex in a car, spanking, creampie, shower sex, mention of cockblocking, roughhousing

♡ date: March 31, 2024

║ part one ║ part two ║ series masterlist ║

Spring break was wonderful with your boyfriend and friends.

You hung out by the pool, did body shots off of your boyfriend’s ridiculously hot abs, and spent some much-needed girl time with Grandmother Jeon and Park.

Getting back into the school routine had been tough and just as you were getting used to it, Easter rolled around.

“I am not getting in the car with him!” Jungkook stomped his foot, his arms were crossed over his chest and his glower was deliciously hot.

“Oh, come on!” Jimin rolls his eyes. “We always carpool. It’s tradition.”

“Yeah,” Seokjin chimes in. “I even have an egg-stra special playlist.”

Jungkook frowns as he turns to look at you. “What do you think, babe?”

You hate being put on the spot but Jungkook would rather spend that time with you without Seokjin barking out lyrics he doesn’t know and you can only imagine what Easter-related songs he could have found. Besides, Jungkook wanted to have his car this time around. He wanted to show you more of his town.

With Grandmother Jeon possibly stopping by, he knew the chances of riding around on his motorcycle were slim to none; though he had promised you a ride around the block whenever the opportunity struck.

“Seokjinnie,” you pout and Jungkook turns around to hide his snickering. You were laying it on thick.

Your tone draws everyone’s attention, and Seokjin immediately softens.

“Just this once can we ride separately? Next time I’ll make you a playlist,” you smile and Seokjin nods, easily agreeing. Being the only girl in the friend group had its perks.

“You heard her,” Seokjin chirps. “Let’s get on the road!”

Jungkook smirks when you wrap your arms around his waist.

“Good girl,” He praises as he takes your hand to bring it to his lips for a kiss. “Let’s get going, my love.”

“Where are you going?” Jungkook asks Jimin as you stand on the porch with your bag. Jungkook had been digging in his pocket for his house key when he spotted Jimin joining you on the porch.

“Mama Jeon probably has sweets and treats, where else would I be going?” Jimin asks with a raised brow.

“Uh, maybe your own house with your mom?” Jungkook retorts as he unlocks the door and calls out for his mother.

“Yeah, but Mama Jeon always has something for me. I’m her favorite,” Jimin grins as he waltzes into the home and to the kitchen to hug Jungkook’s mother.

Jungkook sighs as he kicks off his shoes and places them on the shoe rack by the door. You do the same before taking your luggage to the living room.

The walls are covered in Easter decor, from rabbits to eggs, to carrots galore. You smile as you take the room in, spying a photo of you and Jungkook on the mantel.

“Jimin!” Aera gushes as she hugs him tight. She sits him in a chair and places a plate of bunny-shaped cookies in front of him with a glass of milk.

“Mom, we’re here,” Jungkook announces as his mother hugs him. He takes the opportunity to flip Jimin off behind his mother’s back.

Jimin cackles as he reaches for a cookie, dunking it in his milk before biting it.

Aera releases Jungkook before she wraps her arms around you. “Oh, I’m so glad you could join us, sweetheart! I’ve missed you both so much!”

“Thank you for inviting me,” you say but she waves you off.

“You’re always welcome in our home whether Jungkook is here or not. We love you so much,” Aera hugs you again before she ushers you into a chair with brownie bites covered in pink frosting. Jungkook is the last to get a plate of cookies and milk, muttering about how he used to be the most babied.

You giggle, kissing his cheek before catching up with his mother while Jimin eats one of your brownie bites.

“I know you guys will only be here until Monday but Grandmother Jeon called just a while ago to announce her stay. You’ll have to share Jungkook’s room again. I hope that’s okay?”

“Sure,” Jungkook nods.

“I mean, the two of you practically live together anyway,” Jimin announces as he takes one last bite of his cookie.

You and Jungkook nearly snap your necks turning to look at him. Your death glares make Jimin blush before he scrambles out of his seat and heads for the door.

“See ya!”

Aera clears her throat and takes the dishes to the dishwasher.

“We’re gonna settle in,” Jungkook informs her as he takes your dishes to the dishwasher as you haul ass out of the kitchen.

You grab your bag and Jungkook’s as you head for the stairs.

Moments later, Jungkook is at your side taking the bags from you.

“Remind me to crack a rotten egg over Jimin’s head on Sunday,” Jungkook mutters as he leads you to his bedroom.

“I’m sure we can get the guys to help,” you say as you grab a change of clothes to shower before getting into bed.

Jungkook joins you after his shower, cuddling into your side.

“We can’t hide in here until dinner, Darling,” Jungkook whispers as you bury your face in his chest.

“Why not?” you pout as you cling to him, running your fingers through his hair.

“Because Grandmother Jeon will be here soon and she’ll want to see us,” Jungkook reminds you as he kisses your neck.

“But it’s okay,” you murmur as he sucks on your neck, making you moan as your eyes shut and he gets out of your arms to settle between your legs.

“Is it?” he whispers as he grabs your hips, tugging you to him.

“Koo!” you gasp as he kisses you deeply.

Your hands tug on his hair, moaning as he kisses his way down your jaw to your neck until he settles for the top of your breasts.

“I wish I could bury my cock inside you, Darling. Fuck you until you’re crying for more,” he muses as he leans back, smiling.

You’re left speechless and horny.

Your eyes are unfocused as you try to breathe normally.

Jungkook chuckles as he climbs off you, adjusting himself before going to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face.

You giggle as you stare at the ceiling.

You could never have enough of him.

“Where are my babies?” Grandmother Jeon asks as she steps through the front door with Luna in tow.

You and Jungkook leave the kitchen with his parents.

“Grandmother Jeon!” you greet as she hugs you first. Jungkook shakes his head as he pulls into the hug before you’re released.

Jungkook scoops Luna off the floor and holds her. He kisses the top of her head before she’s handed to you.

“Hi pretty girl,” you coo as Jungkook and his father grab Grandmother Jeon’s bags.

“The airport is the worst,” Grandmother Jeon frowns as she’s led to the living room couch. “The number of people trying to pet Luna while I’m trying to get her to potty is ridiculous. One man asked if she bit and then shoved his hand in her mouth. We were both so shocked! Who does that?!”

“Wow!” you exclaim as you set Luna on her lap.

“You know you can move in,” Aera tells her as she sits on the other end of the couch.

Grandmother Jeon waves her offer away. “You know I live for the fast life.”

Aera nods. “The offer stands.”

“Thank you, dear. You always were my favorite,” Grandmother Jeon informs her as she pets Luna.

“Shall we have dinner?” Jungkook’s dad asks as he comes downstairs with your boyfriend behind him.

The next afternoon, you wake up in Jungkook’s arms. You struggle to get free, giggling when he groans and searches for you but you’re too busy kissing your way down his rock-hard abs.

“Fuck,” Jungkook curses as your mouth wraps around his hard cock. “Darling!”

“Shh,” you hush him as you poke your head from under the covers, and your hand strokes his spit-slicked cock. “Gotta be quiet, baby. Or I’ll have to stop.”

“No, don’t stop,” he whines, his hips thrusting into your hand.

You pause, removing your hand and ignoring the whimper of your boyfriend. You take your panties off, stuffing them in his mouth to keep him quiet.

Jungkook groans, nearly cumming over himself as he tastes your arousal.

“Gotta keep quiet for me, baby. Can you do that? Can you be a good boy for me?” you ask, unsure where the courage came from but Jungkook was an absolute puddle for you.

“Yes, baby. I’ll be good. I swear,” he whimpers through the lace as you wrap your hand around him. You stroke him slowly as you get under the covers, your hot mouth welcoming him in.

He curses when your lips wrap around him, tonguing his slit to hear his muffled cries. Your hand moves between your thighs, rubbing your clit as you bob up and down on his fat cock, stuffing you full.

Jungkook curses losing himself to the pleasure as you feel him hit the back of your throat. He chokes on your panties, tears running down his pretty face as you hold it there for a while before swallowing.

Jungkook is sobbing as you swallow the load in your mouth, crying when you pop back up and swallow.

“Good morning,” you grin as you take your panties out of his mouth and wipe his tears away.

After you suck the soul of your boyfriend, you end up spending the day with Jungkook at Jimin’s place.

“So we’re heading to the Jeons’ tomorrow like always?” Namjoon asks for confirmation.

The Jeons always held the biggest Easter bash on the block. It was a yearly tradition.

“Yup, Dad’s grilling,” Jungkook confirms. “Gotta bring your eggs for the hunt though.”

“Duh,” Seokjin rolls his eyes.

“Not the flour-filled ones, you dick. Mom banned those,” Jungkook huffs.

Seokjin frowns.

“Anyway,” Jungkook rises from his seat. “We have dinner plans so we’ll see y’all tomorrow.”

Jungkook doesn’t allow anyone to say anything as he leads you out of Jimin’s home. He takes you to his car, giggling when you ask where you’re going.

“A family favorite,” he answers.

The drive to wherever is quick. Jungkook parks his car under the broken streetlight.

“Where are we?” You ask as you look around and see the orange neon lights and the boy beside a rocket who must be the restaurant mascot.

“Starbright,” Jungkook answers as he points to the large sparkling sign. “My parents came here before they met and continued to come here when they met and then brought me and my brother.”

“Koo,” you smile softly as you take your hand in his. You couldn’t be more in love with him if you tried. You knew he was your forever, there was nobody else who could ever compare to him.

Emotions overwhelm you as you climb onto his lap.

Jungkook is in awe as you easily find the lever on the side of his seat to make it slide back to give you more room.

“You have no idea how much I love you,” you whisper as you cup his face, settling on his lap before you kiss him. His hands grip your hips tightly as you grind on him while your tongue threads with his, tugging on his hair as you deepen the kiss.

Part of you wonders if Hoseok knew this would happen when he picked out your skirt and top. You didn’t care as Jungkook bunched your skirt at your hips, gripping your thighs as his fingers rubbed over the wet lace.

“Fuck, love,” Jungkook can’t control himself, losing it when he feels how wet you are for him.

“Please,” you whimper, not sure what exactly you’re begging for as Jungkook pushes your panties aside, his fingers rubbing your clit as you smash your lips against his.

Your hands are greedy as you unbutton his pants, tugging them down his thighs in the tight confines of his car. You tug his boxers down next, grinning when his hard cock smacks against his belly button.

“Fuck,” your mouth waters at the sight, nearly drooling as you take it in.

Jungkook chuckles. “This wasn’t what I had planned for dinner, but who am I to deny you?”

You smile as you wrap your hand around his length, lining him up at your entrance before sinking on him, nearly screaming his name for the whole block to hear.

Jungkook laughs, his hands gripping your hair to pull your face into his neck. You moan into his skin, eyes shut as his thick cock fills you deeply.

Jungkook groans when you rock your hips. You’ve grown needy and hungry just being on his lap.

He’s wearing your favorite cologne and it smells heavenly. You kiss his neck, leaving a tiny mark behind as his hands move down to your hips and then your ass. His hands are full as he helps you bounce up and down on him.

The car’s windows fog up, rocking with each thrust he gives you.

“Won’t last long,” you warn him with heavy breaths as you take his lobe between your teeth and pull.

Jungkook’s eyes flutter shut as fireworks explode behind them.

“Koo!” You whimper, nearly sobbing as he smacks your ass.

“That’s it, Darling. Be good for me and cum. Cream my cock, like you’ve been wanting to all day,” Jungkook encourages.

“Jungkook!” You gasp as you bury your face in his neck, kissing the little mole that drives you insane.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice how you kept looking at me with the guys. Staring at my hands, my lips, my cock,” Jungkook smirks as you clench around his dick. He curses as you cry out his name, creaming around him just like he wanted you to.

He follows soon after, grunting as he fucks you through his orgasm, filling you with thick shots of cum before he pulls out and fixes your panties.

“Can you be good for me, baby, and keep that inside you until we get home?” Jungkook asks as you both catch your breath.

“I can try,” you giggle as you climb off him and tug your skirt back down. You both fix your clothing, rolling the windows down as the cool spring air cools the both of you down and gets rid of the just fucked smell.

Jungkook exits the car first after rolling the windows back up. He jogs around to get to your door and help you out as your wobbly legs make him giggle.

“Oops,” he grins cutely as you take his hand and he shuts the car door.

“You’re splitting a chocolate milkshake with me for that,” you tease as he leads you toward the restaurant door.

Once you step inside, the retro decor makes you grin. There are red glittery booths with white tabletops. A jukebox sits in the corner blasting an old song you’ve heard your parents play when you were younger.

The menu above the counter is stained yellow with age and the cashier smiles at Jungkook widely.

“Welcome back, Little Jeon!”

Jungkook grins as he leads you forward and his smile disarms you as he proudly introduces you to the staff.

You hope you’ll be able to come by often with Jungkook at your side.

“No,” you whine when Jungkook kisses you awake the next morning.

You’d spent most of the night wrapped up in each other. He ate you out as a reward for keeping his cum inside all the way home and then you went down on him in your shared shower followed by another romp bent over the bathroom counter in the middle of your skincare routine.

Your thighs ached and your body begged you for more sleep but Jungkook’s kisses were just too good to ignore.

“I let you sleep as long as possible, Darling,” Jungkook whispers as he sits up in bed.

You grumble before sitting up, your eyes still closed and your hair messy.

“Koo,” you huff, hoping he’ll take pity on you and let you sleep another hour or two.

“We’ll miss breakfast,” Jungkook tempts you. “Seojun and Saraí made a lot of delicious stuff for today.”

“I’m up,” you groan as you rub your eyes. Jungkook helps you out of bed, grabbing the outfit Hoseok picked for you today.

It’s a beautiful light blue dress that reaches your knees with shorts underneath so you can roughhouse with the boys during the egg hunt. Hoseok allowed you to pick your shoes for this outfit, so you slide on your low-top canvas sneakers and quickly pull your hair into a ponytail.

Your makeup is minimal since you’ll be running around for the hunt and you can hear the ruckus from downstairs announcing the arrival of your friends and their families.

Luna barks echo throughout the house, and when you finally reach the first floor with Jungkook at your side, you're all smiles.

Grandmother Jeon grins as she spots you and Jungkook. Beside her is a large box filled with Easter baskets.

“There you are!” Minji exclaims as Luna sits on her lap, barking before Aera takes her to the backyard with everyone until only you, Minji, Jungkook, and your friends are left in the living room.

“Seojun and Saraí already got their baskets and Jimin got his basket from Sujin,” Minji explains as everyone turns to Jimin, who has already bitten the ears off a chocolate bunny. He smiles sheepishly as everyone turns back to Minji.

“Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Namjoon Taehyung,” Minji calls the eldest to her side. They each receive a basket with their name written on the front, stuffed full of chocolate and plastic Easter eggs.

They thank Minji profusely as they take their baskets and run out to the backyard to open the eggs and see what Minji has gifted them.

“And here you go,” Minji hands you a blue basket with your name embroidered on the front and Jungkook receives a purple basket with his name embroidered on the front and a cotton bunny tail on the back.

“Thank you, Minji,” you say as you run around the couch to hand her a basket you and Jungkook worked on before arriving at the Jeons.

“Ooh, for me?” Minji smiles as she takes the basket, opening the card the two of you got her. She thanks you again as Jungkook helps her out of her seat and leads her to the backyard.

Jungkook’s backyard is ridiculously huge. Tables line up one side of the patio with food and decorations. Three piñatas sit against the wall by the back door and Luna runs around chasing Jimin and Namjoon.

After lunch, you’re all instructed to head inside so the eggs can be hidden in the yard. Special eggs are hidden for Luna, so Jungkook’s dad, Dae, will chase her around the yard with her basket.

You sit on Jungkook’s lap while your friends ready their Easter baskets.

Jimin smirks as he places a few eggs in his Easter basket he’d hidden earlier in the day.

Seokjin eyes him warily, making a mental note to steer clear of him once the hunt begins.

Jungkook places his hand on your thigh, ignoring the idle chatter of his friends. “We could go upstairs while everybody is busy.”

“Don’t even think about it!” Hoseok exclaims as he sits down beside the two of you with a wide grin.

“We’re all here to have fun,” Taehyung adds as he squeezes between Jungkook and Hoseok on the couch.

“Up you go,” Seokjin helps you off Jungkook’s lap with a wicked grin. He drapes his arm over your shoulder as Namjoon takes a seat on your boyfriend.

“You guys go above and beyond to cockblock us,” Jungkook mutters as he shoves Namjoon off his lap and Yoongi cackles from his seat as he sips his drink.

Jimin is working on two flutes of champagne and Taehyung bites the ears off a chocolate rabbit before tearing open a chocolate egg.

“You’re gonna throw up by the end of the hunt,” Seokjin tells him as he takes the chocolate away.

“I’ve only had a few,” Taehyung pouts but before Seokjin can say anything else, Aera opens the door to the backyard.

“All right, kids! Get to hunting!” Aera shuts the door with a smile as you grab your baskets and head for the front door.

Unsurprisingly, Taehyung and Seokjin’s broad shoulders get stuck in the doorway in their rush to be first. Like the time at Jungkook’s place, Namjoon and Hoseok crawl between their legs to get outside first while Jimin uses Seokjin and Tae’s backs to jump over them.

Yoongi grabs his drink before he squeezes between the two almost-lovers, and heads for the egg hunt without spilling his drink.

“Oh, for Peep’s sake!” Jungkook sighs heavily as he lifts Seokjin out of the way, leaving Taehyung to run into the backyard while you pause to kiss Jungkook’s cheek and run outside with your basket.

A few moments later, Jungkook is at your side with his basket.

Namjoon and Jimin are already rolling around on the grass fighting for a green plastic egg, while Dae follows a barking Luna around with a filled basket and a second for backup.

Taehyung has stolen the eggs from Jimin’s basket, cackling as he heads for Seokjin. You watch from afar as Tae cracks an egg filled with flour on Seokjin’s head and laughs as he runs away.

“Don’t you dare!” Hoseok growls as Taehyung heads for him but changes direction to aim for Jungkook. You run in the opposite direction, catching up to Yoongi as he finishes his drink and crawls along the grass into some bushes to grab a handful of colorful eggs.

“These are mine!” Yoongi hisses as you approach. You flip him off and run alongside Luna and Dae.

“I’d look over there by the rose bushes,” Dae hints before Luna nudges him with her head to go in the opposite direction.

You take Dae’s advice and head for the rose bushes, mindful of thorns as you pull out a giant pink egg and toss it in the basket with the others.

Jungkook catches up to you, his hand on your waist as you pause to rest. Chaos is still unfolding in the backyard as Jimin tackles Hoseok to the ground and Seokjin has Namjoon and Taehyung in headlocks.

“Wow! Easter gets competitive around here, huh?” you ask as you watch in awe as Hoseok gets the upper hand and cracks a flour egg on Jimin’s head.

Sarai and Seojun chat with Aera and Grandmother Jeon, their baskets filled with eggs and treats.

You look down at your basket, noting you can squeeze in a few more eggs before calling it quits.

“It does,” Jungkook finally answers as he inspects your basket. “Looks like you did pretty well for your first Jeon Easter.”

“I got quite the haul, babe,” you grin as you lift your basket proudly for him to inspect.

“I’d keep that pink egg close,” Jungkook warns as he laces his fingers with yours. “Let’s go!”

You don’t get to ask why as Namjoon, Seokjin, Jimin, Taehyung, and Yoongi are charging towards you.

“Shit!” you screech as you try to keep up with Jungkook.

“Get to Grandmother Jeon,” He instructs as he lets go of your hand and runs toward your friends. You take off, arriving moments later as Minji makes you sit beside her while Jungkook wrestles Seokjin to the ground and all your friends fall on top of the two, baskets soon forgotten.

“Ooh, you got the pink egg. Open it,” Minji encourages as she takes the egg from your basket. You open it as instructed and see a check for $500 sitting inside. Minji takes the check, signs it, fills out your name, and hands it back to you.

“There you go.”

Aera rises from her seat, as she announces the hunt is over.

Dae and Luna sit near Minji, opening eggs to reveal dog treats of different flavors.

You pocket the check and head to Jungkook, cracking eggs filled with confetti on all their heads as you chase each other around the yard until you’re too tired to continue.

The eight of you lay in a circle on the grass, watching the clouds roll by in the afternoon sky. It’s been a wonderful weekend and you’re sad to see it end but you know there will be more ahead with all of them.

Jungkook rolls on his side to look at you, a smile on his lips. “I love you. Thank you for coming home with me, Darling.”

You lace your fingers with him, gently kissing his lips. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader insert #jungkook y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook imagine #hfth!jungkook #hfth!drabbles #hfth drabbles #fic: hfth

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hier--soir · 5 months

Text

raising cain | 001

din djarin x ofc

pairing: spy!din djarin x spy!ofc rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: at a private gala in berlin, two agents slip inside, uninvited. unbeknownst to one another, and working for seperate agencies, they prepare to bring the same target to justice. the only problem is - one of them wants him dead, and the other wants him alive. who will succeed? will the strange connection they feel stop them from completing their mission? warnings/tags: modern au, spy!din can bring them in warm or he can bring them in cold, ofc is named + has short hair + is french, alcohol consumption, brief + unemotional mention of being an orphan, violence [including impersonal violence between din and ofc], descriptions of blood and injury and [briefly] brain matter, murder, very brief mention of sex trafficking, sexual tension like hello, choking [sexual and non sexual], ofc has an interesting relationship with pleasure and pain, fingering [not technically in public, but certainly not in private], kinda dom!din, explicit rough unprotected piv sex... on the floor... carpet burns... okay bye. word count: 9.7k series masterlist | main masterlist to raise cain means to cause a commotion, to create a disturbance, to make trouble. a/n: my only defence is that i've been watching too many james bond movies lately. also, for the record, i love berlin. also also, the smut in this made me blush. okay hope you guys like this one x follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing this is part one of raising cain.

BERLIN, FEBRUARY

It is bitterly cold, and she hates Berlin.

Not because of the weather, although it never helps to visit a city one loathes while the windows are covered in a thick layer of ice and the ground a slippery sheen of sleet.

No, Cain hates Berlin because it has always been a city of business for her. Never pleasure, nor entertainment.

In the car, en route to the gala, a driver escorts her by the Staatsoper Unter den Linden, the Berliner Dom, the Altes Museum, and each one passes her by in a blur of beige architecture and pretty lights. Endeavours for another trip, another year, another life.

She pays her driver in cash and thanks him for taking the scenic route. In broken English he slips his number into her palm and asks if she will use his services the next time she visits Berlin. She smiles and nods and doesn’t tell him that she hopes to never return.

Her dress is a flimsy thing. One of satin and silk that clings to the skin of her arms, her torso. It curls around her ankles, just shy of brushing the ground as she exits the car. The air outside bites against her skin. Her feet ache and cry out for reprieve, strapped into a skimpy pair of shoes that pinch at her toes as she glides across the cobblestone path.

A clean-shaven man stands at the door, adorned in a modest suit and a winding earpiece. He requests her name, notes her face, and grants her entry with a strict nod and an all too brief once over. Handsomely oblivious to the comforting weight of a weapon at the inside of her thigh.

The venue is small, but the crowd is thick, pulsing with life; dense enough for her to mingle, to go unnoticed as she glides through the ground floor, blending into a mix of countless other women dressed in long slinky dresses. She wears black because they all do; her makeup is simple because she did not come to be remembered.

She accepts a flute of champagne from a man with a tray. Offers him a graceful smile and a softly spoken danke schön, and waits until his back is turned before tipping the golden liquid into a plant at the base of the staircase.

Chancellor Karl Weber skirts past her, one of the most powerful men in the German government, and she does not meet his eye.

She is patient; thoughtful as she surveys the room. She knows better than to move too quickly. She counts the exits and entries, the number of security guards and wait staff. Assesses the balcony that overlooks the room, curving around the entirety of the upper level, and slips up a winding staircase when she is sure no one is watching.

With every upward step, the lengthy slit down the side of her dress parts, revealing the soft skin of her legs.

There’s something intimate about the balcony space. Red velvet drapery covers the walls, hanging from the roof and spooling against the floors in soft crimson swirls. She takes in her surroundings, fingers twinkling across the gorgeous fabric as she walks. A slim door around the bend, at the other side of the upper level, reads NUR FÜR MITARBEITER; staff only.

Another, a few paces behind where she settles, leads to a small bathroom. Six private stalls, one with a thin window above the toilet, just wide enough for her to squeeze through. Beyond it; open air, a thick pipe that leads down to the street. Perfect for scaling.

Assuming a position near the bathroom, she tucks herself amongst the drapes. Lets shadows and velvet caress her skin and hide her from prying eyes as she juts out a knee and slips a slender hand between her thighs.

The pistol is dense. Thick and black, it rests heavily in her palm as she slips a titanium cylinder from her purse. Deft fingers lead the butt of the suppressor to the mouth of the pistol. Pin meets groove and she lets it spin, stroking cool metal as she twists and twists until it clicks into place.

Ulrich Meier stands four metres from the stage, eight from the bar, and two from the closest security guard.

Another man—taller, leaner—talks down to him. Speaking in hushed tones, the two of them glance over their shoulders every few moments. Careful, cunning as they talk.

And as she watches them, her face remains neutral. But somewhere inside of her chest, somewhere forbidden and secret and soft, she feels a threatening rage begin to unfurl.

Because the longer she stares, the easier it gets to picture other faces. Men and women with sallow cheeks and fear in their eyes. Countless bodies strewn apart by weaponry they had no business being close to; rigor mortis setting their horror-stricken faces in stone.

Yes, that anger unspools inside of her. Burns through her veins like ice, chilling her blood until she feels nothing but relief as she bends her elbow and lines up her shot.

Cain does not think about collateral. Cain does not think about those standing close to him, ones who will no doubt remember this night for the rest of their lives. She does not think about his wife or his children. These things do not concern her. All that matters is the mission.

Her hands are steady around the weapon, finger poised beside the thick trigger. She takes slow breaths. Deep inhales that fill her lungs, followed by warm exhales. Once, twice, three times until she is steeled. An eye pinches shut. Her finger slips over the trigger. Meier laughs at something.

And then a heavy palm lands on her waist.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” The man’s voice is a low, rasping thing.

She stiffens, grip freezing around the pistol. His breath hits the back of her neck, and a hundred little hairs there stand on end. She smells cologne, light and airy. Feels fingertips dig into the flesh around her hipbone. Ulrich Meier turns and walks towards a doorway, disappearing from sight.

“Take your hand off of me.”

“Lower your gun.”

Cain’s elbow whips backward, cracking hard against the centre of his chest. His fingers tighten then fall from her waist and she spins on her heel, the butt of her pistol colliding with his jaw.

He stumbles backwards and she advances on him, returning the gun to the holster on her thigh before striking him across the cheek with an open palm. His head hardly even turns before he’s batting her arm down with a stern shove.

She throws a mean fist forward, but her knuckles barely graze his jaw before the heel of his palm snaps against her chin. The blow sends her staggering to the side, head bouncing off the wall with a low thwack. She tastes blood, the tip of her tongue stings, and when he steps closer she juts her knee into his groin. Feels the harsh rush of the breath leaving his lungs, exhaled roughly across her face, and snarls.

Cain wraps her fingers around the nape of his neck and digs her nails in, pulling him down to meet the knee that she drives into into his stomach. The man grunts against her chest, his hand grasping upward to wrap around her neck. He squeezes tight, dragging her toward him before rocking her skull into the wall again, holding her there. Stars burst in her vision, her nose tingles, and she spits a low curse. Music swells downstairs, a live band starting up on the stage.

Neat curls and dark eyes dance before her. She blinks to stop the world from spinning. Firm jaw… strong nose. Moustache.

“Din Djarin,” she rasps, voice strained from the pressure of his palm on her neck. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

Recognition sparks in those dark eyes.

“Cain,” he grunts, pupils like pinpricks as he assesses her face, and then his free hand is sneaking past the slit in her dress, tapping the gun at her thigh.

“A Walther?” Din’s fingers squeeze ever so slightly tighter at the sides of her throat, callouses rough on her skin. "A little old fashioned, isn't it?"

“A German gun to kill a German cunt,” she whispers. The artery in her neck pulses and pounds, blood roaring in her ears. “It felt fitting.”

“No one dies tonight,” he grits out, and it takes everything she has not to laugh right in his face. He cannot see the way her arm is twisted between them, fingers working to loosen the tiny dagger resting just inside the sleeve of her dress free.

“I should have known,” she smirks faintly, fingers grasping the hilt of the blade now. “The Guild do love to play around in international affairs these days.”

“Quiet,” he hisses, fingers sliding up to grip around her jaw now. His palm is hot against her lips, covering that sly smirk, the way she sucks in warm, grateful breaths. “Keep your mouth shut. Meier doesn’t die tonight. Not here.”

Smooth, careful, she presses the tip of her blade against his abdomen. Only 4 inches in length, but long enough—sharp enough—to penetrate through two layers of clothing and pierce the thick skin of his side. Thumb and forefinger tighten, begging for an excuse to press forward, to eliminate this new complication.

But then two things happen in quick succession.

Cain hears a peal of laughter raise from the staircase and glances past Din to spot blonde hair, a red dress, and slides the dagger back inside her sleeve. Moving fast, his hand falls from her face, body curling protectively around hers in a faux embrace. He tucks his face against her neck and the short hairs in his moustache raise goosebumps on her skin.

“Qu’est-ce-que tu fais?” she hisses. What are you doing?

“Shut up,” he bites back, jostling her against the wall once more.

Laughter dies down into awkward chuckles and murmured words. Cain peers over Din’s shoulder, understanding him then. Her fingers tangle in the loose curls at the nape of his neck and she watches them, ignoring how soft it is against her skin. Two women, eyes assessing them from the top of the stairs. The blonde frowns, wary; concerned.

“They’re looking,” Cain warns, hooking an ankle around the back of his.

Something soft skates down the side of her neck. Such a stark contrast to the rough grip of his hand before; a pair of lips tracing gentle kisses along her pulse point. For a moment, she holds her breath, focusing on the dull ache in the back of her skull, the feeling of his arms around her.

“Make them look away,” he says plainly, the words a hot wash against her skin.

His palm tightens around her hip, and Cain tilts her chin upward, letting the women see her smile as he lays kisses against her throat, lips parting to form a loosely whispered oh. Through heavy lidded eyes she sees the women flush and look away, one of them giggling. But they do not leave.

Meier, where is Meier? The thought jolts through her like an electric shock, and her smile fades a little.

Frustrated, she skates a hand around his body; lets it fall to the hem of his suit jacket, rucking it up until her fingers are digging into the flesh of his ass. Round and thick with muscle, he tenses beneath her grip, letting slip a harsh grunt of surprise into her ear. The women balk at that, turning to begin their descent down the stairs at last.

Biting back a smirk, Cain’s fingers trail up up up inside his jacket, around the front of his body. Down the buttons on the front of his white dress shirt, the solid muscle beneath it, to where it meets his trousers. The tips of her nails flirt across the front of his pants, and she is certain he’s stopped breathing; entire body still beneath her touch, lips frozen against her skin. Searching, searching, she finally hums triumphantly, fingers sliding over the holster on his hip at last. Hidden beneath his jacket, she fondles the butt of his gun. Slim; inconspicuous.

“Hmm,” she purrs, lips brushing the soft skin of his earlobe. “I thought it would be bigger.”

“I thought I told you to shut u—”

Din flinches as her other hand touches the side of his face, a finger pressing swiftly into his ear canal. His head tilts to the side, trying to evade her touch, but she’s already pulling away, using his surprise to slip around his body and move towards the stairs.

She smooths fingers over her hair, neatening the mussed strands and tucking them behind her ears. Straightens the neckline of her dress, ensures her holster is hidden. From where she stands, Meier is nowhere to be seen.

Din calls after her, a low warning. She doesn’t look back, gripping the railing of the staircase as she begins her descent. The gala is in full swing, guests dancing and talking in every direction. A six-piece band performs a playful jazz song from the stage.

“There is no need to shout,” Cain murmurs, smiling when she hears a sharp intake of breath through the earpiece.

She doesn’t know if he follows her down. Keeps her gaze trained forward as she accepts another glass of champagne from another man with another tray. Drinks it this time, thick hurried gulps that wet the skin beside her lips and soften the rough scratch in her throat. She wanders, looking for the man she came here for, and in time she ends up at the bar.

“A vodka martini,” she tells the barman, slipping onto one of the plush highchairs at the counter. “Dirty.”

The blonde man grips a clear glass bottle from his station and asks, “Shaken or stirred?”

She waves a hand, unbothered. “Dealer’s choice.”

He’s short with thick hair and a reddish hue to his beard. Handsome enough. She watches him with a light curiosity as he finishes making someone else’s drink.

It doesn’t take long before Din Djarin slips onto the seat beside her, suit jacket straightened out, not a single curl out of place, and orders a cosmopolitan.

The barman pulls two frosted coup glasses from beneath the bar and Cain arches an eyebrow at her companion.

“You’ve a sweet tooth, Monsieur Djarin?”

“It seems that way,” he murmurs, turning on his stool to face her.

Brown eyes assess her face in this new lighting, pupils flicking across everything he can see. His hand reaches across the bar and peels a small square napkin from a pile. Slides it across the wooden countertop.

“Wipe your nose.”

She swipes the material beneath her nostrils and spies a small blot of blood on the fabric, crumpling it in her fist with a saccharine smile.

“In Germany long?” he asks casually, nodding at the bartender when he places their cocktails on the counter.

“As long as it takes.” She wraps her fingers around the stem of a chilled glass, dragging it closer. “And it shouldn’t take long.”

He takes a lengthy sip, draining half the glass in seconds, and his eyes slip closed as the alcohol hits his tongue. Cain watches his throat move as he swallows and crosses her legs tighter on the stool. Feels her gun holster dig into the soft flesh there and welcomes the distraction.

“Alone?”

He eyes her for a second, gaze momentarily dropping to the low cut of her neckline, the swooping curve of her shoulder. “I was.”

“Well,” she holds out her glass to him. “It’s an honour.”

A beat passes as he contemplates her—her words, her steadfast gaze—and then he knocks the rim of his glass gently against hers.

“I’d apologise for upstairs,” he smiles faintly, posture loosening. “But I’m sure you understand.”

“There is no need,” she agrees easily, taking her first sip. Cool vodka slips down her throat and she allows a pleased purr to fall from her lips. “Tempers are frayed. Patience is short. What’s a little scuffle between friends, hmm?”

He smirks at that, a miniscule upward twitch of his lip. Friends.

“You know, I’ve heard the stories about you,” he tells her.

His suit jacket is well tailored, she notices. Tight around those broad shoulders of his, hemmed perfectly around his wrists to reveal crisp white sleeves and silver cufflinks.

“Is that so?”

He nods. “Cain, the femme fatale.”

“Mm,” she smirks, tracing a finger around the rim of her glass. He watches the sharp point of her red nail ping against the coup. Glances down to her toenails peeking past the tip of her heels; the same colour. She wiggles them for him, and he looks up.

“Then it appears there are equally silly tales about the both of us, non?”

“Do tell.”

Her grin broadens, something like excitement splicing through her veins. “Well, I had wondered if it were true. That you have your own little… catchphrase.”

A low scoff rumbles from his chest, and his stare cuts to where the bartender stands, mixing a drink only a few feet away. Across the room, one of the musicians onstage starts up a winding piano solo. Sparse and melodic to start, he sprinkles his fingers against highest keys on the piano, and Cain focuses on keeping her gaze on Din. She never did care for jazz.

“Do you say it every time?” she teases in a whisper, eyes lit up with mocking glee. “I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in co—”

“Stop.”

Din’s voice is harsh, a little too loud for the quiet space by the bar. The word cuts through the soft music and has a few guests glancing in their direction. Cain laughs, unperturbed by the sudden attention, and plucks an olive out of her drink. A saxophonist joins in with the pianist, and he relaxes once more. Leans into this little game of hers.

“Don’t be a fool,” he softens, reaching over to tuck a short strand of hair behind her ear. His thumb brushes the curve of her jaw as he pulls away and she fights the shiver that trips its way down her spine. “Not every time.”

She laughs again, quietly eyeing the length of his fingers as his picks up his glass. His knuckles are thick. Warm blue veins spiderweb across the back of his hand, disappearing beneath his shirt. If she tries hard enough, she can still remember how it felt to have that hand pressed against her throat, squeezing.

“And what else do they tell you about me?” she licks her lips, elbow on the bar, leaning forward to rest her chin in the palm of her hand. Eager – hungry.

“I know you’re an orphan.” He is stoic as he says it; as if unphased, uninterested. But Cain’s eyebrows lift, delighted.

“Then it must be true of you too,” she posits slyly, left eyelid dropping in a wink. “No one is more eager to accuse another of being an orphan… unless they themselves are one also.”

He ignores that, though she can see the way his weight shifts in the seat and the muscle in his jaw twitches.

“A Valkyrie.”

“Common knowledge in our line of work.”

“You’re from Paris.”

“An easy guess,” she leans back, bored.

“Your first name is Nikita,” Din says then, a teasing lilt to his voice. She considers that he may enjoy this game just as much as she does.

And that makes her pause. She lifts her glass and laughs against the rim, a soft tinkling sound that rings in his ears and has every man in earshot turning to look at her.

“You watch too many films,” she swallows with a smirk. “Think French, Monsieur Djarin.”

He ponders it for a moment, lips pursed softly, gaze darting somewhere over her shoulder and then back to her face. Takes a sip of his laughably pink cocktail and licks the residue from his lips, savouring every drop.

“Camille.”

“Oh,” she rolls her eyes, fighting back a genuine smile now. “I know you can do better than that.”

It’s his turn to wink now, and for one fleeting moment she feels oddly at peace with the idea of spending the rest of her evening at the bar with Din Djarin. A stranger, yes, but a little less so than the others that crowd the room.

In a career so harsh, characterised by its solitude, its violence, Cain is unaccustomed to the feeling of being seen like this. She knows unfamiliarity and discomfort and pain like the back of her hand. Is no stranger to a man’s grip around her throat, her life in his hands. But not this… this twinkle of implicit understanding that she can see in his eyes. Those endless brown eyes that say we are not so different, you and I.

Despite the bloodied napkin in her lap and the ache in her jaw, it’s enough to loosen her shoulders; to set her at ease.

But then he turns to stare pointedly over her shoulder, and she snaps out of it. Twisting around on the stool, Cain follows his gaze until she spots Meier across the room. He stands with a few others, shoulders back, eyes bright. Perfectly oblivious.

The barman slips to the other end of the counter, serving a tall gentleman, and Cain lowers her voice.

“What does the Guild want with Ulrich Meier?”

Din takes a sip of his drink. Keeps his eyes to the right, glossing casually over guests, the band, and then back to the asset.

“Information,” he says finally—carefully. “He’s of no use to us dead.”

She hums quietly, plucking an olive from her drink. Eats it slowly, allowing the briny taste to wash over her tongue as she watches him. When he doesn’t speak again, she squints, unimpressed.

“Are you not going to ask me the same question?”

An amused sound escapes his mouth, and he meets her eye again.

“You want Meier dead,” he muses simply. “But why so abruptly? When there is so much to be gained from taking him in.”

“That is not an option for us.”

“Why?” His voice takes on a harsher quality now, eyes narrowing. Mistrust.

“Did you know that name Ulrich,” Cain murmurs, leaning forward to avoid any listening ears. “Comes from the Old High German name Uodalrich? Uodal meaning heritage. Rich meaning king; ruler.”

Din Djarin says nothing.

“Did you do your research before coming to Berlin?”

“Yes.”

“Then you understand that Monsieur Meier is not simply an arms dealer.”

A beat of silence. His fingers tighten around the stem of his glass. “Yes.”

“He took his name personally, you see.” Her eyes float back to Meier. “Held it in his slimy little hands as a baby and said Oui Maman, I will rule. I will rule the desires of weaker men, and bring nightmares unto any woman that I can get these two hands on.”

“This is about revenge.”

“This is about justice,” Cain snaps, that calm façade slipping for a second. No more games. Din’s spine straightens. “Have you ever spoken to a human trafficking victim?”

He takes another sip of his drink and does not respond. She does her best not to remember the photos from her briefing. Not to remember the countless interviews, witness statements, and obituaries she’d had to paw through before her flight.

“Your silence is very telling,” she smiles, that easy composure returning. “But I trust that you understand my position now. Ulrich Meier will be of no help to your organisation after this evening.”

“Cain—”

“Because,” she continues easily. “When I leave this building, he will no longer be able to speak. And if you wish to get in my way… then I am afraid the same fate will befall you, Monsieur Djarin.”

A soft announcement sounds through the speakers, and they turn their heads to listen. The Chancellor will be giving his speech in a few moments. That’s her cue.

“And Weber?” he asks, the words coming out stilted, rushed. “What do you think of him? He’s known for turning a blind eye to Meier’s dealings.”

She tilts her glass, swallowing the last of the icy liquid.

“I do my best,” she places it down on the counter with a soft clink. “Not to think of men at all. Unless it is imperative to my mission.”

“And yet you’ve thought of me,” Din asserts, gaze heavy. His eyes slip down, just long enough for her to notice the way he stares at her mouth, before his eyes return to hers. “You know me. Enough to recognise my face in a second.”

“As I said,” Cain smiles, stepping down from her chair. “Imperative to my mission.”

He is still as she leans in and presses a soft kiss to his left cheek, and then to his right.

“Take care, Monsieur Djarin. I would like to see you live another day,” she says, slender hand coming up to the side of his face. Her finger taps the piece in his ear once, and she is not smiling anymore. “I’ll be in here if you need me.”

Cain coasts around the edge of the room, keeping her eyes to ground whenever an unfamiliar sets of eyes strays in her direction. Swipes a finger beneath her nose once or twice, checking to see if any blood has returned. And as Chancellor Weber makes his way towards the stage, she makes her way back upstairs, quietly hoping that Din does not follow her again.

Halfway up, a single word crackles through her ear piece.

“Amélie?”

Surprised, she grips the banister and almost turns around. But she can hear a woman speaking into a microphone in German, performing a plain and winding introduction for the Chancellor, and continues her ascent.

“Wrong.”

Reassuming her position on the balcony, shrouded in waves of those soft red velvet drapes, she watches Weber take his place on the stage. A hush falls over the crowd and her eyes move fast, landing easily on the thinning grey hair atop her target’s head. Every eye in the room is facing the stage. The Walther is thick and heavy in her palm as she ensures the silencer is correctly in place. Old fashioned indeed.

Cain’s breathing is calm, heart rate slow and measured as she raises the weapon and aims it at his head. And then, like a little ant crawling across her skin, she feels something shift. The air gets thicker, and a suddenly familiar shiver tickles its way down her spine.

Her eyes tick up and she pauses at the sight of Din on the opposite balcony railing. Almost hidden entirely by the shadows, pistol raised. And it is not pointed at Ulrich Meier, no… no it is pointed at her. And he is so handsome, even when he’s bluffing.

Grinning now, she lets the tip of her finger lightly caress the trigger. So gently, with no intention of doing any damage just yet. Some feeling akin to glee sparks up in her chest. Such excitement. The Chancellor’s voice fills the room, swelling from the speakers as he welcomes his guests.

Din’s face is placid, unimpressed, and then that honeyed voice drifts through her ear once more.

“Celine?”

Cain allows herself a brief laugh, eyes drifting back down to rest on the man she came here for. The target drapes an arm around his wife’s waist. She inhales deep, filling her lungs before letting the air spill from her nose. Calm, collected. All of it so easy for her.

“Wrong again.”

The Walther jerks in her hand, bullet flying silently through the air, and for a moment there is silence. Nobody moves.

And then Ulrich Meier’s wife releases a blood curdling scream, dropping to her knees and cradling what’s left of her husband’s head in her lap. Popping the silencer off her gun, Cain catches a glimpse of thick, dark matter across the woman’s chest, spilling down the bare skin of her arms, and then she is slipping away into the bathroom in search of that thin little window.

Back on the cobblestone street, sirens wail through the air, police cars and ambulances roaring past as she traipses away from the scene. A little flushed, a little exhilarated, she blends into a crowd of pedestrians, hidden in the shadows. She cuts across the road, avoiding traffic, and heads toward Unter den Linden, knowing it is safer to walk. Don’t be seen by a taxi driver, don’t be recognised, don’t—

“That was a clean shot.”

The words ring in her ear, clear as day.

Cain’s feet drag to a halt against the ground, shoulders stiffening. She turns, eyes assessing the busy pathway behind her, a parked car idling by the side of the road a few metres back. But she can’t see him anywhere. Countless unfamiliar faces wander by, jostling her shoulders as they pass, but he isn’t amongst them. He’s hiding somewhere, watching her from afar – playing his own little game now. Shivering against the cold, she turns and continues walking.

And then: “I thought I might follow you home.”

The words are so confident, so self-assured, and they send a rush of jagged heat blossoming between her thighs. Her heels clip against the ground, knees feeling a little weaker all of a sudden.

“Would you like that?” he asks, and she wishes she could see his face. Wants to see the desire burning in his eyes, the sharp line of his jaw as those words drift from his pink lips.

“Only if you can keep up.” A little breathless, the words form a soft cloud in the air in front of her face.

Din laughs, low and dark in her ear, but he doesn’t speak again.

She walks for a long time, ambling her way down dark streets, icy wind whipping at her hair for all of half an hour before she finally reaches the street of her hotel. And all the while, she spares quick little glances over her shoulders, trying to spot him in the shadows. Her clothes begin to feel too tight, too warm, despite the low temperature, and with every step her panties cling closer to her warm, wet skin.

The hotel doorman smiles tiredly at Cain as she approaches, holding the door open wide to welcome her inside. As her feet hit the entryway steps, his eyes flit over her shoulder.

“Ein freund von dir?” A friend of yours?

When she turns, she is quietly amazed to find Din there. Gait unhurried, only a few steps behind her. There’s an easy smile spread across his face. Hands tucked deep in his pockets; the top button of his shirt undone.

“Ja,” Cain murmurs, slipping inside.

Din nods to the doorman, following her in. “Guten Abend.” Good evening.

They do not speak as she leads him toward the elevator. Her numb fingers slide against the button with an upward pointing arrow, and together they wait. Heat radiates from his body, warming the skin of her back where he stands behind her, so close yet not touching her yet. Together they slip inside when the doors open.

She presses a button, the number twelve lighting up on the switchboard, and the doors glide closed.

Soft, tinny music plays in the elevator, and they stare at each other from either side of the small space. Din’s chest rises and falls with steady, measured breaths. He watches her and she watches the buttons on the wall, lighting up in turn as the two of them travel up, up, up.

Two floors below Cain’s, he speaks for the first time.

“Vivienne,” he says. “Final guess.”

Her eyes flash to him and she smiles, the skin beside her eyes pinching.

“It’s Remy,” she reveals at last, voice so soft, so forgiving now that her mission is complete.

“Remy,” he repeats. Rolls the r like she does, hums around the y. Sees how it tastes in his mouth and steps forward, saying it again, again. Remy, Remy, Remy, Remy Cain.

“Don’t wear it ou—”

His lips crush against hers, chest warm as he pushes her back back back into the wall. His hand flies up, cradling the back of her skull to protect it from the wall. Not a third time. Despite the softness of his hand, the way his fingers card gently through the short locks of her hair, his kiss is biting. A wet mess of clashing teeth and tongues as he works her jaw open, coaxing his way inside of her mouth. A rough exhale streams from his nostrils, warming the skin of her face. His breath tastes like Cointreau and lime, and she moans.

His hand slips up her thigh, trailing past that slit in her dress for the second time this evening, until his fingers are brushing against the front of her panties. Feeling the thick damp strip in the lace, the way the thin material clings to her centre.

“Fuck,” he exhales, and when he meets her eyes again his pupils are blown fat and black with desire. Moving fast, he tugs the gun from her holster. She pauses, eyes narrowing, but then he tucks it into the waistband at the back of his trousers, simply allowing space for his forearm to rest between her thighs.

The elevator thrums around them, stomachs dropping as the metal box takes them higher and higher through the building. A finger curls around the edge of her panties, dragging them to the side, and when he finally slides through her wet cunt she sighs into his mouth, every muscle in her body pulling taut and warm.

His touch is lax, almost taunting as he sucks her tongue into his mouth and traces a digit over the drooling mouth of her entrance, smearing it up to make a mess of her clit. When she moans he presses down; careful little circles there, messy figure eights, a sharp back and forth back and forth back and forth, trying to see what she likes best. And the second her eyes pinch shut, a low curse falling from her lips, the elevator dings.

His hand whips out, slamming against the red emergency stop button. The elevator jerks to an abrupt halt and then he’s on her again. Teeth at her collarbone, her neck, her jaw, fingers moving in a slick blur against her pussy. Her thighs splay apart, and she leans heavy against the wall, knees shaky, trusting him to keep her from falling to the ground.

“So fucking wet for me,” he murmurs, the words brimming with pride, and she trembles beneath his touch, needing more and needing it now.

“Inside,” she pants, lips parted and searching for his again. “Want your fingers inside me.”

Din swallows those words down, pressing two fingers inside of her with a groan. Remy gasps, bearing down on the weight of his fingers and shivering as he curls them inside of her. Stretching her out and grinding his knuckles against her entrance with every deep thrust.

“Yeah?” he goads, watchful eyes drinking in the way she moans for him, turning her face into her shoulder as if to hide how good it feels. “You like that, hm?”

Warm wetness pools out of her, dripping past his knuckles and onto the inside of her thighs. Obscene sounds fill the tiny space as he pumps in and out of her, and she catches herself glancing upward, searching for a security camera. She spots it in the corner just as he fits a third finger inside and grinds the heel of his palm against her clit, her mouth falling open with a rough groan. Her shoulders tilt forward, forehead knocking against his shoulder, and Din grunts, fucking her harder. His fingers never leave her wet clutch now, the tips of them persistently working against that soft spot at the top of her walls.

“Such a tight little cunt,” he’s saying, nipping at her earlobe, but the words blur and warble around the rushing in her ears. “Squeezing my fingers so good, you’re so good.”

She grips the back of his neck, squeezing desperately. Her jaw aches with the strain of hanging slack.

“Tell me,” he says roughly, growing impatient. Everything feels hot, too hot; the skin of her face against his shoulder, her chest, the sizzling tension coiling in her core.

“Close,” she chokes out. Din snakes his free arm around the back of her waist, steadying her loose-limbed frame between his body and the wall. “Just a little longe—ohhh, merde.”

He shifts then, the thick heft of his cock crushing against her thigh through their clothes. He presses a finger against her clit now. And that low rub, his calloused thumb paired with three thick fingers massaging into her, is enough to send her spilling over the edge.

A hoarse cry pries its way out of her throat, body shaking against his and he works her through it, still pressing down against the aching bundle of nerves at the top of her sex. She pulses around his fingers, everything pulling tight and wet around them as she comes. Teeth sink into the lapel of his jacket in an attempt to muffle her cries but his arm is dropping from her waist, hand coming up to grip her jaw and push her back.

“Let me hear it,” he purrs, voice like silk as it washes over the skin of her neck.

“Ohh,” she moans, uncaring now about the camera, about who will hear. Focusing wholly on his fingers on her face, her cunt, the way her entire world seems to shake within his grasp.

He holds her there, lets her shake and shiver beneath his touch until the ebbs of pleasure finally fade and she’s strong enough to stand on her own. Remy watches as he takes a small step backward, pressing one hand over the front of his trousers and three slick fingers past his lips to taste her come. Din’s eyes slip shut at the taste, lips pursing as he sucks the remnants of her from his skin. Flushed and awed by the intimacy of it, the depravity of it, she looks away.

Her fingers tremble against the button as she presses it, and the elevator shudders back to life around them. Another sharp ding rings out again, the doors sliding open within seconds.

A few paces down the hall, the key card slips easily against her door, and she presses it open, flushed as she steps inside and kicks off her heels. She discards them somewhere to the side, turning to watch him follow her in, toes sinking gratefully into the rough carpet beneath her feet.

The door slams shut behind him and he tears his jacket off, letting it drop to the floor as he makes his way further inside. And he looks so much more intimidating like this, she thinks. Domineering as he advances on her, the thick length of his cock evident against the front of his pants. Despite him aiming a gun at her less than an hour ago, despite the way he slunk through the shadows to follow her back here, this is the first time all evening that she’s felt eager to bend to his will, his desire. Her heart races, thudding heavily against her ribcage, and he grins wickedly at her, as if he can fucking hear it.

They collide in the middle of the room, slick swollen lips sliding against each other in a mess of harsh exhales and lewd smacking sounds. Her hands roam across the vast expanse of his chest, trailing down to cup him through his pants. He groans at the feeling, hips jerking forward, seeking more more more. He rips the gun from his holster and tosses it onto the bed, her Walther following shortly from the back of his waistband, and then his hands are on her too. Fat palms pawing at her body, gripping the meat of her ass and squeezing, trapping her against his chest so he can rut his cock against her stomach. Din grips the back of her head then, thumbs rough against the apples of her cheeks as his mouth devours hers.

Thick fingers drift from the ends of her hair down the nape of her neck, the curve of her spine, until they slip beneath the back of her dress. Distracting her with his kiss, greedy and lustful and dominating – she doesn’t notice his curious fingers until they’re curling around the fabric and ripping. Remy staggers backwards with the force of it, gripping his neck. He snarls into her mouth, following her to the ground as she falls. The breath rushes from her lungs and her tailbone aches from how she lands but she doesn’t care. Doesn’t even care when Din straddles her waist, chest heaving, and continues to tear satin and silk from her body. The black material practically shreds in his hands. So thin and delicate, the threads fall apart with every twist, every yank, until he’s prying the ruined dress away and throwing it towards the bed.

Remy’s fingers work hastily to undo the buttons on his shirt, but just as she reaches the fourth one, he’s gripping her hands, pinning them above her head. Din’s free hand works open his belt, the button and zip on his trousers, and then he’s dragging them down his legs, freeing the thick weight of his cock. She gasps, eyeing the angry red tip hungrily. He’s thick and long and leaking against the white material of his shirt. Her hands push against his and she grunts when he simply tightens his grasp on her, the friction of the coarse carpet harsh against her skin.

“I let you have your way back there,” Din says, eyes blazing. “Are you gonna let me have mine now?”

Her body stills, wholly captivated beneath the heat of his gaze, the weight of his thighs over her hips.

“Yes,” she exhales, mind a blur, limbs still loose and heavy from her orgasm. “Yes, Din, just fuck me.”

“The Guild are gonna have my fucking head for this,” he mutters, fingers falling from her hands to rest heavily at the waistband of her panties.

Remy isn’t sure if he’s talking about Meier or her, but she doesn’t fucking care. What happens to Din after tonight is not her problem.

He toys with her for a moment, tickling the skin around her navel, above the band of her panties, before his fingers hook around it and—snap. She flinches as the material is torn away, her skin pinching beneath the lace.

She stares up at him, clad in nothing but the pale material of her bra now. He watches the way her chest heaves beneath it, nipples painfully stiff against the thin lace.

“It was the right thing to do.”

“I know,” he snaps angrily. He shifts back, moving down her body until he can pry her legs from between his, spreading them open on the carpet to display her glistening cunt to him. The sight seems to stem his anger a little, jaw going loose as he gazes down at the shiny swollen mess of her.

A thick thumb swipes through her folds, pinching one of them back to hold her open for him to ogle at.

“Such a pretty little cunt,” he tuts under his breath, thumbing at the flesh between her clit and her hole.

Her face heats, heart stuttering in her chest a little at this feeling of exposure. Can feel the intensity of his stare practically inside of her the longer he looks, waiting for something.

“So take it,” she says finally, patience thinning.

She fists his shirt in her hands and tugs him forward, breath hitching when he grips his cock and jerks it slowly, smearing her wetness down the length of it before notching his tip at her entrance.

He pushes inside of her in one fell swoop, hardly giving her a moment to adjust to the fat girth of his tip before he’s pressing deeper. Lips on lips, sucking the breath from her lungs, their kiss vibrates with the strength of his groan. It tastes like relief, like understanding. And for a moment it’s just that. The thick weight of him seated inside of her, his chest against hers as they kiss lazily, sloppily, smearing spit across each other faces, tasting beneath tongues, behind teeth.

“So fucking tight,” Din bites out, forehead heavy against hers.

“Mm,” she whines, face screwed up.

A dull burn ricochets through her abdomen, the stretch more than she’s taken in a while. Remy wills herself to relax, but desire has her core tightening around him, sucking him in further and further until the coarse hairs at his base are flush against her clit and there’s nothing more to take. She loops a leg around his waist and ruts up against him, and anything soft about him vanishes.

Din’s thrusts are punishing. Hard and fast, the weight of his hips rocking her into the ground over and over, until she can feel carpet burns forming at the base of her spine, the soft skin of her ass. Every slick pass of the heft of his cock punches the air from her lungs and has her eyelids fluttering.

It’s greedy, the way he fucks her. Like he’s had it before, perhaps in a past life, and been deprived of her touch for years. He fucks her like he misses her. Like he loves her or hates her or something dark and grotesque in between the two emotions. Like if this were the last thing he ever got to do in this lifetime, then he was going to do it right.

So she says, “Harder,” and he grits his teeth, fucking her into the carpet until she’s sure there’ll be littles scrapes and bruises on her back in the morning.

The tip of his cock brushes near to the end of her, and every little nudge there has her gasping in an intoxicating medley of pain and pleasure.

“There?”

“Yes,” she begs. “Fucking—yes.”

Din works her open like it’s his fucking job. Settles on his knees and drags her ass up onto his thighs, splitting her open with every brutal thrust, hands fitted over her waist in a vice.

Up close like this she can see past the collar of his shirt. Can see thick raised lines on his skin, pink and purple scars beneath his collarbones. She reaches up and lays a hand there, feels his heart jack hammering against the marred skin, and moans his name. Din, Din, Din.

And he likes that. Releases an almost pained moan at the sound of his name on her lips, leaning down to attach his mouth to her neck. He bites and sucks and kisses, leaving a trail of deep dark marks from the hollow of her throat to the hinge of her jaw.

“That’s it,” he snarls into her skin, hand lowering to press down above her mound, and that mixed with the sound of his voice makes a fresh load of slick gush out of her. Pushes her deeper into this depraved, endless pit of pleasure he’s raining down upon her.

He tells her again, say it again, and she cries out Din, head lolling back against the floor.

Something fierce begins to brew inside of her. A bright white twisting feeling that frays and sparks like a live wire, stoked by the speed of his movement, the firm press of his hand against her lower stomach. And just as she thinks she’s there, almost there, so close, a shrill ringing comes from the sofa to their left.

Din’s hips stutter against hers, head snapping to the side to pinpoint where the interruption emanates from. A little pink phone rings and rings, the sound piercing through her ears and setting her teeth on edge. She taps his chest quickly, urging him back. He frowns, opens his mouth to tell her no, tell her ignore it, but she pushes him harder, again and again until he slips out of her with a haggard moan.

He grips her waist and turns their bodies, landing on his back with a thud. Eyes trained on his face, the dark red blush on his cheeks, his swollen mouth, she reaches out blindly, snatching the phone from the receiver and putting it to her ear.

“Allo?” Remy breathes, eyebrows pinching together as she sinks down onto his cock, free hand splayed on his stomach. “Bonjour.”

He props himself up in a seated position, resting back on one hand while the other comes up to grope at her chest. Cocky asshole. But her eyes glaze over as she takes in the tanned skin that peeks out of his shirt again, the soft smattering of hair between his pecks. Legs spread out wide on the carpet, he watches her bounce slowly on his cock, nodding in encouragement but careful not to speak, lest he be heard down the line by her handler.

At this angle his tip presses into her g-spot with every movement. It only takes a moment for that low burn to start up again in the base of her stomach. Her mouth is open wide, ragged breaths spilling from her lips as she listens to the words being spoken down the line.

She says, “Ouais, c’est fait.” Yeah, it’s done.

Din’s fingers flex around the cup of her bra, tugging down the fabric to let one of her tits spill out. He sighs heavily, leaning forward to latch his mouth onto the skin there. Lathing hot, messy kisses against her sternum, her nipple, and then grazing his teeth over the sensitive bud. She trembles against him, hand coming up to grip the back of his head and hold his face there. He sucks it into his mouth, pulls it taut between his lips before letting it slip out with a wet pop.

“À bientôt.” See you soon.

She hangs up the phone with a rough clang, and then her mouth is seeking his out again. Teeth clash and she moans at the sharp pain, uncaring. Din’s grip on her waist tightens and he plants his feet on the carpet, fucking up into her at a break-neck pace. She cries into his mouth, a harsh animalistic sound, and her stomach is pulling tight, cramping up. Her cunt locks down around him, and when she comes it’s a low throb of a feeling. A deep swooping ache that spills from her core and spreads out through her thighs, her stomach, until her body is jerking and twitching above him.

“Fuck yes,” he grits out, white teeth flashing in her hazy vision. He doesn’t give out, spitting a mess of that’s it, fucking give it to me as her pussy flutters and drools around his cock. Her hips roll and stutter over his, the muscles in her stomach twitching beneath the skin, and Din swears under his breath. Her vision whites out, throat hoarse and head pounding as she succumbs to the pleasure. And he feeds off it.

“God, look at you,” he grunts, prolonging that low burn in her gut the longer he fucks into that softest warmest little spot. “Made to take this cock.”

“Say it,” he rasps urgently, eyes rolling back when her hand grips his throat for purchase, nails digging sharply into the skin over his thrumming carotid. “Say you fucking want it.”

“I want it,” she moans, back arching, knees on fire where they slide against the carpet at his sides. “Want your come, Din, fuck—fuck, give it to me, give it to me.”

His body practically vibrates as he comes. A thousand tiny little twitches and spasms rocking through this frame, the muscles in his thick thighs turning to tense stone beneath her. A gravelly shout falls from his lips, cock kicking hot and hard against her walls until she feels his spend begin to seep out of her around his length and pool around his base.

It’s almost frantic, the way his hands clutch at her body, clinging to any part of her that he can. And when she thinks he might pull her closer, press himself deeper to keep painting the inside of her walls, he pushes her away, dragging himself from her clutch just to grip his length in a tight fist.

He strokes himself in tight wet movements, a few final weak spurts of his come shooting up to land over her mound and the swollen lips of her pussy. And only when he’s done, spent cock beginning to soften in his palm, does he pull her down a little. Resting wet hands over the base of her spine to feel the way she shivers, body shuddering its way through the aftershocks of her orgasm.

Remy’s chest expands with stilted, ragged gasps for air, trying desperately to fill her lungs as she folds against his hot thick frame, exhausted.

And after a few moments the foggy, erotic blur that held her mind in a vice for the past few hours slowly begins to lift. Din’s hand is on the back of her thigh, fingers splayed, tickling the skin there, and the weight of it suddenly itches. Reality drifts back in and it feels heavy on her shoulders. The clock beside the hotel bed reads 9:12 – her flight out of Berlin leaves in two hours.

His hand drifts up her back, nudging her down to rest her head against his chest. Her body aches suddenly; dull pains popping up in her neck, her jaw, her hips. She remembers the way it felt to have his palm strike her chin and almost smiles.

A metre away, her suitcase lies spread open on the floor. Clothes and lingerie and a gun peek out of the red trunk. She can see two passports beside it, stacked neatly atop one another. And she knows that his hotel room can’t look that dissimilar from his own, but it feels too much now. As their breathing starts to even out, vision swinging back into focus, this level of intimacy – having another person, even a colleague of sorts – seeing behind the scenes of what after looks like for her… it feels like a splinter in the tip of her finger. A sharp sting that won’t go away. Wrong.

Remy rests her chin against his collarbone and glances up at him. Din’s eyes are closed, lips parted as soft breaths puff out from between them. He looks tired – almost as tired as she feels.

“I’m going to shower,” she tells him, fingers brushing curls back off his forehead. His eyes are soft, warm as they open to watches her stand. Too much, that look in his eyes. Too close. “Be gone when I come out, okay?”

Remy turns, back to him as she grips the handle of the ensuite door, and for a moment she pauses. Feels the weight of the silence between them, the heady scent of sweat and come in the air, on her skin, and glances over her shoulder. Looks between him spread out on the floor and her things dotted across the room. An empty martini glass lying on its side. The blush-coloured rotary phone on the hotel sofa. Passports with different names, birth dates, home countries, addresses, and her face. She knows that has to be firm now.

“Don’t give me a reason to kill you, mon chére.” My darling.

Din’s lips curl up into a smile and his eyes drift up to stare at the ceiling. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She slips inside the bathroom and pulls the door almost closed behind her. Twists a nozzle until water is beating down against the floor of the shower and steam begins to fill the room. Silently, she pries open a cabinet and slips her hand beneath the sink, feeling around until her fingers grasp the pistol strapped there.

Bare skin of her back flush to the wall, thighs still wet with come and sweat, she peers out through the crack in the door. Still ajar, she can see him past the wooden frame. Sat on the edge of the bed with his back to her, looping his belt through the waist of his trousers. With her eyes trained on the soft skin of his neck, on messy curls, on shoulder blades and biceps that bulge out against the thin material of his dress shirt – she leads a silencer into place over the mouth of her gun. A rhythmic repetition, the exact same as earlier. She doesn’t even need to look down. Pin meet groove, twist, twist, twist.

Din slips his arms inside the suit jacket, elbows bending as he smooths his palms along the front of it. She holds her breath as he turns, as he takes three steps toward the hotel room door, and then—pauses. Hand on the doorhandle, he does not move.

Remy’s finger rests featherlight on the trigger.

She is calm. What happens next is his choice.

And he must know this because he does not turn around. Does not try to catch one last look at her. His fingers curl around the handle and he slips out the door, closing it was a soft click behind him. The air in the room rushes to fill his sudden absence.

Only when there is silence does she exhale, dropping the pistol onto the marble countertop beside the sink. And she smiles as she slinks beneath the hot spray of the shower head, letting it rush over the crown of her skull and drench her hair.

Her scalp stings and pink water swirls in the drain, blood slipping from a little cut on the back of her head. She pays it little mind, tilting her chin up so the scalding water hits her face too, stripping away a thick layer of sweat and blood and secrets from her skin. The silence stretches, and her smile grows. He does not come back.

Smart choice, Din Djarin.

thank you so much for reading! x

#i know the fire brigade probably gets called when you hit the emergency stop in an elevator #but this is a fantasy land where i get to make the rules #my writing #fic: raising cain #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin au fanfic #din djarin x ofc #din djarin smut #din djarin fic

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noneorother · 7 months

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Oh my god, season 2 is The Tales of Crowley Hoffmann

I guess this has to be a series now too. Part 1 l Part 2

When Aziraphale wants to perform a show-stopping magic trick in S2E4, he is shown the "Professor's Nightmare," a rope trick, and references "Prof Hoff himself" at the end of the minisode.

Because we love double meanings so much around here, I decided to actually watch the Powell & Pressburger epic opera film "The Tales of Hoffmann," assuming it was the another P&P easter egg and the other Hoffmann (not the magician) that was being referenced.

One, this movie is unhinged. Two, this season IS The Tales of Hoffmann. Allow me to explain...

There are shot for shot quotes literally everywhere throughout the season.

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Automaton Ball) & Good Omens Season 2 "The Ball"

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Hoffmann watches Stella perform) & Good Omens Season 2 "The one with the zombies"

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Clerk in Automaton Ball) & Good Omens Season 2 "The Ball"

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Tale of Antonia, Hoffman & Antonia) & Good Omens Season 2 "The Clue Crowley & Aziraphale"

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Prologue) & Good Omens Season 2 "The one with the Zombies"

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Tale of Giulietta Banquet scene) & Good Omens Season 2 "The Clue Banquet scene" *By the way Hoffmann wears a goatee for this tale

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Prologue "Dragonfly dance") & Good Omens Season 2 Prologue "Before the Beginning" *This is Stella and un unknown devil drangonfly, NOT Hoffmann

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Tale of Antonia) & Good Omens Season 2 "The Clue"

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Tale of Antonia) & Good Omens Season 2 "The one with the Zombies"

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Automaton Ball) & Good Omens Season 2 "The Ball"

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (End credits through Hoffman's glasses) & Good Omens Season 2 end credit scene.

Stella & Aziraphale. This one makes me laugh.

There are SO MANY MORE, but tumblr has an image limit. Seriously, it's nuts.

2. It seems simple and straightforward, but it's not at all

" Why would ambitious filmmakers simply film an opera? Many admirers of the work of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger have assumed that their decision to make The Tales of Hoffmann (...) was in some way an admission(...) that they couldn’t go on making their edgy, over-the-top melodramas after the rejection and interference they’d suffered (but) there’s a case for considering The Tales of Hoffmann as one of the finest and boldest works that Powell and Pressburger produced, so far ahead of its time as a wholly “composed” film, combining visual and musical elements, that it has still not been fully appreciated... Late in his life, Powell himself said that he thought it was one of the best films that he and Pressburger had made. What makes the film so remarkable is a series of paradoxes: the fact that it virtually reinvented the freedom and fantasy of silent cinema while making full use of Technicolor and a stellar cast of dancers and singers..." - Criterion, The lives of marionettes

3. The structure of the story is the same as the show

Here is the story of the Movie** (Not really the Opera that inspired it) In the prologue, we see the dance of the dragonflies onstage at a ballet. Count Lindoff (very bad dude) is spying on both the principal dancer Stella, and the audience member Hoffmann (who's admiring her). Lindoff is behind the scenery. During her dance, Stella passes a love note to her assistant for Hoffmann. The bad dude intercepts it out of jealousy. During the intermission, Hoffmann goes down to the tavern next door, watched by his sort of buddy in red, Nicklaus. People ask him to tell stories to while away the time, and so he tells 3 stories (actually four but we'll get back to that).

We launch into 3 tales/minisodes in other times and places : 1. The Tale of the Ball of the Automaton where he falls in love with a robot. He is humiliated. 2. The tale of Venice (Giulietta) where he falls in love with a courtesan/double agent who crosses him. 3. The tale of Antonia, where he falls in love with a girl who feels trapped by her living dad, her dead mom and a mysterious bad dude (Lindoff). She is murdered in a ring of fire, but becomes a ghost and is resurrected and sent back to earth. At the end, we snap back to the tavern in the real world. Hoffmann reveals that these three women are all metaphors for how he feels about Stella, his true love. He's drunk and depressed now, thinking she never sent for him after the show. Stella arrives in the tavern looking for Hoffmann, ready to run away, but now accompanied by Lindoff (dressed as an angelic figure) who followed her. She looks to Hoffmann to save her, but he's too blinded by the fact that he doesn't think she loves him back to pick up on the signal. He gives up, and she goes back up the stairs guided by Lindoff. Her assistant (who was bribed by Lindoff at the beginning) is given the go ahead by Lindoff to go back to the tavern and taker over. They close the door to the tavern, while she walks up ethereal stairs with the bad dude. THE END.

The one story that doesn't fit into the minisodes and is told in the real world is Kleinzach. We understand by the end of this one that this is Hoffmann's self loathing about never being good enough for Stella, because Stella is perfect and Hoffmann is ugly and deformed. The main love interest attempts to steal Kleinzach's essence through a mirror by the end. 4. Powell & Pressburger recast four actors in new roles In The Tales of Hoffmann, P&P decided to recast four of the principal actors/dancers from the film The Red Shoes in new roles, wanting to recreate the magic that they brought to the first ballet film. Sound familiar?

5. Crowley is Hoffmann

"The Tales of Hoffmann" original 1881 costume concept for Hoffmann & Crowley costume sketch for S2E3 1827 Edinburgh. Glasses are a really important aspect for Hoffmann in both the opera and the movie versions of The Tales of Hoffmann. Hoffmann is gifted metaphorical magic glasses that he wears to be able to perceive his love in a way they aren't really in real life. In the opera, he wears dark glasses to shut out the real world, not just as a metaphor. Check out a modern day version of the opera's Hoffmann costume :

He's french and slamming a beer but you get it. Crowley also canonically loves watching movies. It would make so much sense that his minisode recountings with him and Aziraphale would resemble different styles of movie that he loves. Seeing as we see him drive away at the end as the last character, an argument could be made for him being the ultimate narrator of the story in season 2.

6. The original American release of The Tales of Hoffman had 14ish minutes cut out of it by the studio. So we all know by now that whole debacle about having the clocks jump 14-15ish minutes during the kiss?

"The Tales of Hoffmann found an audience far wider than expected, despite Korda’s misgivings about the movie’s running time and his decision to cut 14 minutes out of the film for its American release." - Criterion, The Tales of Hoffman

I have been unable to unearth what the difference between the American & British versions of the P&P Tales of Hoffmann is, if you know let ME know. I want to know! _____________________________________

And I HAVE SO MUCH MORE. This is long enough already so I'll save the more detailed stuff for a new post.

**The opera is a whole other beast. You can read about it here, but basically there's a lot more going on in the opera because the composer died before finishing it, and multiple versions exist after the original uncompleted score got lost IN A FIRE. Anyway. Here's part 2

#good omens meta #good omens season two #art director talks good omens #go season 2 #good omens 2 #go meta #good omens season 2 #go2 #crowley x aziraphale #anthony j crowley #aziraphale and crowley #aziraphale x crowley #crowley and aziraphale

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callmemaeverick · 1 year

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The Inked Knight - The Spy Next Door Part IV

AN: Woot, Part 4. I swear I am going somehwere with this. This is my favourite one to write, cuz ever since I saw that scene in Casino Royale, I wanted to write it. Anywhoo.. here’s the next installment of our favourite gentleman Spy Next Door. Part I, Part II, Part III

Fights in your area are nothing new.

Living close to an overpass meant that you share an area with a group of homeless people and while most of them were harmless, there were a few that tend to get rowdy.

It was supposed to be a quiet night.

Your shift for the day ended by 7 pm and you were grateful for the extra few hours to wind down before you went to sleep. Curled up in your favorite spot on your couch, you were engrossed in your most recent book when you heard the shouting.

There was a group of people gathered at the entrance of the building and from your vantage point, you could make out the figures of some of your elderly neighbors and some strangers you didn’t recognize. You frowned, wondering what Mr. Jameson was doing up so late.

But then, you saw some movements and then came the startled screams. The next thing you knew, Mr. Jameson was on the ground.

You were out the door and down the stairs in an instant and when you got there, people were shouting, grabbing and pulling each other’s collars. It was total chaos and not for the first time, you were certain someone was going to get truly hurt.

So you acted. Without thinking.

“Call 911,” You whispered to Mrs. Rodriguez closest to you and jumped into the commotion. “Hey! Hey-hey-hey,” You exclaimed, putting yourself in between the squabbling group of men. “Whatever’s going on here, I’m pretty sure we can talk it out!”

A man from the gang, stepped forward, his eyes alight but hazy under the streetlight. “Why don’t you mind your own business, bitch?” His voice rang loud over the sizable group that had begun to gather. “This is between me and the old man.” From the looks of him, he was waiting for any chance of an easy fight.

You glanced at Mr Jameson behind you, still glaring daggers at the other man. The old man was none too different.

“Sir, there’s no need to talk to me like that.” You put on your best customer service voice. “Please calm down.”

The man took another step and invaded your personal space. Instantly, you could smell the liquor on his person. His eyes traveled up your body. “And what’re you gonna do if I don’t, Sweetheart?” He asked and behind him, some of his friends snickered.

Chills racked down your spine at the way he was leering and your voice wavered but you held firm. “Sir, please step back.”

The man did not move. Only inching closer.

"Sir, please,"

“She said step back!” Mr Jameson, having found his feet, shoved at the man’s shoulders and that’s when all hell broke loose. Before you knew it, both men grabbed each other once more and you found yourself sandwiched between the two.

You didn’t know how long you were stuck between them, trying to get them to stop. The others around you were grappling too. The loud noices, coupled with the overwhelming sense of being trapped sent warning signals to your claustrophobic brain. Panic seized your body and you gasped for air.

And then, like thunder, a voice boomed over the noise.

“Hey, FBI! Everybody step back!”

Just like that, the bodies parted and you felt Peter’s familiar presence right next to you. You thought he was working that night, but you were infinitely glad you were wrong.

“What’s going on here?” He asked, his voice different than normal. His stance was rigid and his gaze was hard, waiting for answers. He looked between Mr Jameson and the other man, but but not before you caught his eyes scanning you for injuries.

The air was tense as the three men stood off but thankfully, instead of escalating the situation further, the leader of group took one look at your neighbor's 6” figure and the badge on his hip, and decided most likely it was not worth it.

“Nothing, sir.” The man muttered. “Nothing at all.”

And that was it. The cops then arrived a few minutes too late and Peter stayed back to explain everything to them. Thankfully, everyone was let off with a stern warning and went on their separate ways.

The next few minutes were a blur as you hurriedly returned to your apartment, desperate for your safe haven. Curled up against the tiles, with the steady fall of water around you, you let it drown out all sensations.

That was how Peter found you, 10 minutes later, fully clothed and hunched over your knees.

"I can still smell the beer." The drunken man reeked of it.

There was a soft sigh and a rustle of fabric and then, the press of his right arm alongside your ribs. The warmth of his skin, different from the water sent goosebump up your own arms. He had shed his coat, but other than that he was fully clothed as well.

It had became a thing between the two of you, just sitting together in silence, skin touching, just breathing. Living alone in a different city was not always easy and while you would never admit it to anyone, you were starting to feel lonely. But that was before Peter arrived.

He moved, reaching up over his head to the ledge where you stored your soaps and shampoo. "Here," He handed you your body wash.

A flash of black caught your eyes and you stared as you took the bottle from him. You had seen them before, but mostly slivers whenever his sleeve was lifted whenever he moved or stretched. But this was the first time his tattoo was on full display to you.

"What?" Peter asked when he noticed your reaction.

“You uhh-..." Something foreign licked your insides when he moved and you saw the painted muscles of his forearms contract and release. How did you get that close? "I just… didn’t peg you for a sleeve ink kinda guy.”

They were beautiful. A series of geometric triangles running up his arm, giving an illusion of hard scales merging into some intricate design of a flower or a pointed star, blooming from the joint of his elbow.

You were mesmerized.

"I've always wanted them," He told you, turning his arms so you could see more. There were some more wrapping his bicep, still hidden by his shirt sleeves, and you found yourself more than a little curious to see them. "Started doodling in college and got them just before Quantico. Thought they'd look cool."

"They do," You blurted too quickly and blushed when Peter chuckled.

Silence blanketed you for a few beats, the only sound was the water drizzling over you both.

"You did good." Peter told you. "Tonight."

"I froze, Pete. It got intense and I froze. And to think I have years of experience handling people."

"Hey, it's one thing to handle a crisis on the phone. It's another to face it head on." He moved to capture hand. "Trust me. You did good."

You didn't really believe him, but you nodded nonetheless.

"C'mon. Let's get out of here."

You let him pull you up and turn off the shower. You stood quietly as he rummaged your cupboard and pulled out two clean and fluffy towels.

"Would you come back? After?" You asked as you took a towel from him. "I- I don't think I'll be sleeping anytime soon. We could watch a movie or something."

Peter smiled at you. "Yeah. Yeah, of course."

TBC Tagging: @strnqer @thefictionalgemini @bcon24 @medievalfangirl @coldheartedmar @iamzuul @iamasimpingh0e

#peter sutherland #peter sutherland x reader #gabriel basso #the night agent #netflix the night agent #the night agent netflix #the spy next door series #mav's posts

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yanderederee · 6 months

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MeetMyGang

April25th, 2004

a/n: Please enjoy!!♡ // BajixTutor!Reader series // ct:fluff

lol lowkey inspired by this behind-the-scenes clip of the live action actors having a push-up contest!

before › now! › after

Just after the events of Rooting for You!

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

“Bring her by next meeting,”

Mikey ordered.

Baji sweat under the intense seriousness Mikey was radiating.

“It’s really not what you think, M-“ Baji tried to disagree, but Mikey simply wasn’t taking no for an answer.

This was an order, not a request.

“I just wanna meet her!” Mikey pouted. “Anyone who can get You to stop on a rampage is worth meeting.” Draken agreed, smirking at Baji. “It’s not everyday we get to see Baji Keisuke shy,” Mitsuya shoved Baji playfully. “She’s got to be a saint of some kind to put up with your stubborn ass!”

Baji groaned, glaring at each and every one of the Toman founders, who were simultaneously grinning wickedly back at him.

“I said, no.”

He was determined.

Everyone went quiet, and soon all eyes landed to the ominous aura in the air: all eyes on Mikey.

Baji wasn’t budging.

“Fine,”

Mikey shrugged, outwardly appearing indifferent. “Not like I can force you.”

And that was it.

The meeting ended.

That was way too easy.

Baji didn’t have a good feeling, when the room started to file empty.

“Good luck,” Draken, the last person in the room, had sighed, before leaving Baji in a cold sweat.

— April27th, 2004

“Hmm~mh-mm~”

Whisper

“Who is that guy?”

“I’m not sure, be looks like he’s waiting on someone…”

“He kinda looks.. like a delinquent, doesn’t he?”

“Well he’s driving a bike, so…”

“Maybe he’s waiting on a girlfriend?~”

“Don’t joke like that! Who would even…”

Whisper

“Yyy/nn-chinnn~ y/n-chin~” Mikey whistled to himself, scanning the ocean of student heads while he wait leisurely on his CB250.

Baji was PISSED.

“What is that guys deal?!”

“Who?” You asked, behind him like a little duckling.

“No one!” Baji bit back full force, practically red, trying to hide Mikey from your window viewing pleasure.

Barely taken aback, if at all, you hummed casually before shrugging. “Guess I’ll go find out ~” you gathered the last of your materials before pulling your bag neatly over your shoulder and starting your way towards the door.

“Wait!” Baji tried stopping you, but just as he reached for your hand to try and halt you, you did a quick sprint to the door, avoiding his touch. You grinned wickedly, yet so sweetly, actually, wait, what was with that giggle? He was so caught up in how cute you looked giggling at his bewildered expression, that he lost sight of you completely.

“Shit, wait, y/n!! “ he yelled, trying to make quick work to catch up to you. His glasses slid, the frames blocking his vision only for a moment, enough to make him bump against the door way in his quick pursuit.

“Damnit, Chifuyu!” Baji yelled, and up popped Chifuyu’s blond helmet. “Yes sir!”

“Don’t let Mikey get ahold of Y/n!” He ordered, and just like a good subordinate, Chifuyu clicked his heels. “GOT IT!”

As Baji and Chifuyu both went different directions, Ryusei couldn’t contain his laughter. “What the hell is going on?”

Just outside the school entrance, you snuck to-and-fro between mingling students to make sure you went unseen.

You were just curious after all. Baji never wanted to introduce you to any of his friends, and while it wasn’t like you two were dating, but you were curious about Baji’s personal life.

About his super cool biker gang friends!

You peeked a spying eye out past the gate, scanning the area to spot the culprit of Baji’s stress. It didn’t take long, given the low rumbling of an engine.

Biking boots.

Loose black trousers.

A white belt.

An oversized white v neck, shoulders covered with another school’s jacket. Not the same Tokyo Manji uniform you’d seen just the other day.

And as your gaze wandered to meet the face of this lazily dressed delinquent, you made direct eye contact with Manjiro Sano.

Your heart stopped. What kind of presence was this, that you were feeling? It felt like the wind had been knocked right out of you. Your lungs deflated and suddenly you were lightheaded. Were you holding your breath? Why couldn’t you breathe? Why was he looking at you so intently? Like you were—

“Y/n!” Whispered Chifuyu, bringing you back to reality.

But just before he got his hands on you, so had Mikey.

“Y/n-chin!~ there you are, I was looking for you!” Mikey laughed happily, his bike’s kickstand having been shoved in the ground with haste.

“Too late, shit-“ Baji hissed, just making it in time to witness Mikey holding your hands in his with glee. “C’mon, before your boyfriend snatches you away,” Mikey grinned at you, then glancing at Baji, who seemed to hear every word.

“You low hanging bastard! Don’t you dare—“ Baji started, but it was too late before Mikey was pulling you past your restrains- over and onto his bike, sitting in front of him.

“WHAT THE HELL!” School be damned, Baji couldn’t hide the hot rage that came from Mikey’s overstepping. But even when he tried reaching the two of you, Mikey was already throttling the gas.

The last thing Baji saw of you was your mildly worried expression.

“Seee ya~” Mikey laughed, so so very clearly amused, before riding away full speed.

“Mikkkeeeeyyyyy…” Baji was boiling over, further and further as the day went on.

Couldn’t he just respect one thing? One? Baji said no, No, damnit!

“Baji, we should follow them,” Chifuyu spoke, as though there wasn’t all hope lost. “C’mon.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

“‘The hells your problem, knock it off!” Baji yelled.

Everyone was just surrounding you— trying to get a look at Baji’s Girlfriend. Or, that was the rumor.

“Baji-San has a girlfriend?!”

“No way! She’s just his tutor!”

“But he brought her here! That’s strange!”

“It’s unlike Baji to bring someone…”

“Shh he’ll hear you!”

“I didn’t say anything wron—“

“QUIT WHISPERING I CAN HEAR YOU BASTARDS!”

Baji groaned. This was the worst.

Chifuyu had good intentions, bringing you around to get a better understanding of who Baji really was, the side of him you didn’t know anything about.

And now here you were in the heart of it, and you looked amazed.

“Is that a real tattoo?” You asked one of the guys, peeking when the thug drew back his sleeve to show it off. “No, fuck off.” Baji pushed past, taking you away from the crowd.

“H-hey! Baji,” you tried to argue, but he wasn’t having any of it. “Don’t care, we’re leaving.”

*reader begins using Baji instead of Kei/Keisuke while in front of his friends, to avoid being seen as disrespectful*

“Woah woah! Where’s the fire!” Smiled a nice looking boy with short hair and a cross earring. “You must be the famous Baji charmer,” he opened his hand to you, to which you shook politely. “Name’s Mitsuya, Mitsuya Takashi.”

“Nice to make your acquaintance Mitsuya-san, I don’t much about charming, but I do my best to keep Baji on top of classes.” You giggled.

Mitsuya paused, starring at you for a while, charmed. Quickly, he looked back up to smirk at Baji. “Lucky bastard.” He almost soluted before giving your hand a final squeeze, and backed off.

But you were a popular guest star, it was only a matter of time before you were swept away again. Much to Baji’s dismay. In the crowd of delinquents, it was getting hard to keep track of where you were being taken.

“Chifuyu, I’m about to lose it.” Baji informed, ready to throttle the next guy who put his hands on you. Chifuyu gulped. “J-just, hang tight boss!” He groaned, dreading the turn of events.

“I-is THAT a real tattoo?” You gasped, the next time you were spotted was with Draken, who was crouching for your convenience and chuckling at your bright eyed excitement. “I-is it a dragon? How cool!” You threatened to trace the ink outline.

“Ken Ryuguji, nice to meet you,” Draken had introduced himself, now standing up to full height.

“Wow, even your name means dragon? That’s kind of bad ass, right?”

Draken laughed, like you’d just said a hilarious joke. “It is bad ass isn’t it!” He laughed even harder. “She’s great, you should’ve brought her around sooner, Baji!”

And while Baji was off fuming, you stood there happily content.

“Hey, yaknow, I’m like, way stronger than Baji, right?” Mikey grinned, leaning in for a fake flirty gesture. Stalking you like a shadow, Mikey’s been having you make your rounds, all within his own supervision.

Mikey did find you rather adorable, after all.

Mikey liked the way you handled yourself, composed and confident in a crowd of scary looking thugs. He liked the way you respected them and treated them in a friendly manner. But Mikey really liked the way you smiled, the lovesick doe eyed puppy that adored Baji. He knew you and Baji were in the process of becoming an item.

But you weren’t yet, so he thought it no harm to pseudo flirt before Baji could have a valid reason to tell him off.

“I saw the way you kick! I was really impressed,” you praised him with an admiration. “Considering Baji is the strongest person I know, I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it.”

This seemed to light a fire in Mikey. “Oh no, take more than just my word. Baji! C’mere so I can kick your ass!” He joked loudly.

Baji was almost thrilled when he finally found you again. And what made it all the better was the way you jogged over to be by his side.

Your presence alone was enough to allow him catch his breath.

When he looked down at you to assess your comfort levels, what with being pawned around like a shiny new toy, he was released to see your carefree smile.

“I’m also way stronger than Baji, by the way.” Out spoke Pah, almost startling you.

“Oh really? Maybe we should test which one of us is the strongest!”

“Stupid~, I’m just gonna win! Don’t even bother,”

“Now that’s a challenge I think I’ll take you up on.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you guys!”

…

And that’s how you ended up refereeing Toman’s first official strength and endurance competition.

Between Mitsuya and Draken, you made sure both of them seemed prepared enough for your the starting signal.

“… Go!”

And in traditional arm wrestling fashion, the twin dragons fought with all their strength, gripping for dear life to not be the loser.

They had a good few seconds of beefing back and forth, but soon became obvious it was Draken’s game.

“No fair! No one can beat Kenchin at arm wrestling! This is rigged!” Mikey yelled from the sidelines, not eager to be the one to follow up.

Next in the lineup, they wanted to try push ups. All ready in position, in a line so everyone was visible.

It didn’t take them long to tire themselves out— only a few seemed like they never would stop.

“Just give it up Mikey, I ain’t losin’ to you!” Baji huffed out, still fighting Mikey’s childish need to win. “You’re just sayin’ that cause you’re getting tired~ I could keep this up for hours!” Manjiro quipped back with barely a huff of exertion at all.

All that remained was Mikey, Baji, Draken and Chifuyu. Though, just as they rounded off to the fifteen minute mark, Chifuyu practically lost consciousness. And Draken honestly started getting bored.

“This is fun ‘n all, but don’t you guys have better things to do?” Out emerged another girl, with long blond hair. A wide smile bloomed over your features when you saw her.

“W-wow, you’re like, really pretty… Oh! Um, s-sorry, hi, I’m–“ you tried to introduce yourself, but Emma already knew. “Y/n, yeah, heard lots about you just from passing through.” She held out her hand to you, smiling in unison.

You shook her hand happily, “So, is it true?~ Are you and Baji shacking up?~” she whispered with a grin. Your face heated up dramatically at her question and shook your head. “No! No, n-not like that! We just go to school together!” You defended.

“Hmm~ if you say so.” She let off. “I’m Emma, by the way. Mikey’s my brother, if you couldn’t tell.”

You blinked a few times, turning the idea in your head. “Oh, that makes sense! You guys do look alike!” You nodded, and looked over at Baji and Mikey still squabbling on how to settle the score.

“Oi! Come on! We ain’t got all night!” Draken called to them, now that he finally had his fill of the excitement. “Just settle it with a good ol’ fashion fist fight and be done with it!”

Both Mikey and Baji huffed out some kind of reply, to their feet. “I’m so going to kick your ass.” Baji glared at Mikey. “Oho~ I’d like to see you try.” Mikey grinned back.

“Are they always this competitive?” You leaned closer to Emma in inquiry. “Yes, literally all the time.” She replied quickly, a unanimous nod waving over all else who heard the question.

That made you smile.

Overlooking the petty little dispute, you couldn’t help but feel warm inside. Before, you’d only ever seen Baji with a mild temper, holding his tongue and being the voice of reason in some cases. His thick rimmed glasses hid half his face, and you’d have never guessed his hair was actually as long as it was with the way he tied it back.

You began to fall for him ever since you saw the way he took such good care of the injured kitten, barely a month ago. You began noticing the cracks in the character he played up, and found it cute. The way he would stifle curse words, diverting his ever growing tempter.

Until eventually he began also showing interest in you as well. Meeting you anytime you asked for his presence, gradually asking you more about yourself, and reassuring you about things you couldn’t control.

This, too, was Baji Keisuke. Hot tempered, brash, snarky, confident, handsome… you knew you liked Baji before you knew how he really got along. He was a gentle person underneath it all. He loved animals, just as they loved him back.

Would you have feared him, if you saw this side of him before meeting him in school? Surely not, you’d been surrounded by delinquents for the last hour, and felt no discomfort whatsoever. That had to mean something, right?

“You got this, Baji-san!!” Chifuyu yelled out, snapping you out of you day dream. Everyone was cheering all around you as the fight was in full swing. Push after hard punch, they were fighting for blood. It took you off guard at first, the blood, but this was normal for them.

A swift kick to the side of the head, a block to counter, Baji looped his arm around Mikey’s foot to falter his landing. Before he could meet the ground, Mikey used his palms to push off, and send his uninterrupted foot under Baji’s chin to clock him in an undercut fashion. That definitely had to hurt.

Yet they fought on. In amazement, you starred. With everyone else cheering, the hype of battle began building inside you, until you felt ready to burst. “I believe in you, Kei!” You yelled out. In front row, he definitely heard you. It felt embarrassing having a girl root for you so explicitly, but damn did it work to fuel the fight in him.

Baji grinned wide, regaining his composure. His next punch really hurt, you could tell. Mikey’s expression was a dead give away of that. “Damn, you really pack a punch whenever your girl’s involved,” he teased. “Maybe we should bring her around more often.”

“Try it,” Baji bit back, taking the initiative. The two have sparred so much in their life, they could read each other’s moves easily. And Baji knew Mikey was losing on purpose.

Sure, losing to Baji left a bad taste in his mouth, losing in front of you tasted even more bitter. But at the end of the day, Mikey knew Baji really cared about you. He would have chances in the future to sweep you off your feet and let you reconsider who you liked best. But for now, he wouldn’t dare ruin the glow of excitement that lit up that cute face of yours.

“Winner! Baaajiii!” Draken’s voice rang with a roaring hoot. All of Toman hooted back in response, all in good fun. Mikey could afford losing petty fights in front of his subordinates every now and again. He was still The Invincible Mikey, and he’d be sure to whip anyone who actually questioned that standing.

You jumped in excitement at the declaration, clapping for your classmate. “Way to go Kei!!” You called out happily.

Baji knew he won by default, but he didn’t really care to rebuttal the outcome. Not when you looked so happy. He grinned at you and rolled his eyes. “Had it in the bag,”

“Mmhm~ good fight.” Mikey chuckled past the two of you. “Meeting adjourned!”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

“See you ‘round!” Called out another Toman member, zooming past on their bike. You waved back politely, standing back while Baji worked on getting his bike ready to go. “Y/n~!” Emma caught your attention, hugging you warmly. “Nice to meet you, make it home safe, kay?” She smiled.

You smiled back. “I’ll be sure to do that! Make it home safe!” You waved her off when she hopped onto the back of Mikey’s bike. “Don’t be a stranger~” Mikey called back with a wide grin and a wave.

Baji rolled his eyes, and roared his engine. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride back home.”

You paused, worried. “Don’t you usually drive home with Matsuno?” You asked. Chifuyu grinned and patted your back. “Sounds weird having you call me that, just call me Chifuyu, alright?”

“And second, don’t sweat it! I can walk home just fine.”

You gave a weary look. “Well, if you’re sure..” you said uneasily. “Hop on,” Baji encouraged, leaning the bike to one side so you could get on easier.

A few attempts later, you only managed to get yourself situated onto the back of the bike by using Baji’s shoulder for leverage.

Holy shit, Baji only just realized. You were so close. Way too close. Chest pressed flush to his back, you shakily gripped the sides of his uniform. He could feel you breath against the back of his neck.

Your legs felt weird being so close to the hot metal of the exhaust pipe, but Baji assured you it was probably safe.

(*please wear a layer of fabric to separate your skin from touching exhaust pipes/bike motors! It can in fact burn you if you are not careful!)

“Don’t worry so much, you’re fine. You rode on Mikey’s bike just a while ago, right?” He tried reassuring you when he started for takeoff.

“Y-yeah but I was sitting in front that time!”

“You want to sit in front now?” He joked.

“Can I?”

“No, that’s dangerous as hell.”

You laughed. “Then why’d you ask?”

“It was radical.” He rolled his eyes. “Rhetorical!” You yelled back.

“Whatever.”

#FragileDearest #<33333 #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x y/n #tokyo revengers baji #baji keisuke x reader #baji x reader #Baji Keisuke #toman #toman x reader #Mikey x reader #Mitsuya takashi #draken

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salemoleander · 11 months

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It goes like this:

Scar seeks Grian out as soon as they respawn on Hermitcraft. Congratulating, reminiscing. Holding him when he starts to shake. (He was already forgiven before Scar stopped breathing.)

Bigb reaches out quickly- to check in, to see if he's okay. Says he had fun, as hard as it was- says he'd come back. There's an anxious quality to his messages that Grian is pretty sure wasn't there before. It's hard to remember that people ever acted differently; hard to keep straight who they were and who they all became.

At a time too late for visitors to really be wanted, Cleo comes knocking. She's not done feeling the emotions of what happened, but there is an understanding between their and Grian's sharp, bitter edges. Survival and love, twined together. She thanks Grian for letting her experience that kind of loyalty. It's as close to forgiveness as he'll get; he accepts with gratitude.

Skizz and Impulse arrive together two days later to see him - the over-loyal martyr and the under-loyal spy, happy they could play together. Skizz is easy; he forgives outright and out loud, with a declaration that he knows Grian tried his best to make things fair and fun. Pulled aside while making tea, his apology to Impulse is more concrete: a promise of future loyalty.

He receives a short message from Joel, requesting that next time he have more chances and reason to kill. Next time.

The moon is rising, and Bdubs is online, which means something is terribly wrong. One flight and several hours of coaxing later, Bdubs is close to the edge of sleep. He tells Grian he loves him; loves Cleo, loves Tango, adores them all. Would have wasted so much time not knowing everyone, without this game. Forgiveness is beginning to feel like nausea.

Jimmy doesn't acknowledge there's anything to forgive; dead too soon to know how painful things became. Still, he says 'No hard feelings'; still, he hugs Grian so tight at the next MCC his ribs creak.

Etho doesn't say anything, but he sends over a book of suggestions and ideas for the next series. He nods at Grian once, sitting at a campfire with his focus rapt on Ren telling a story, and Grian knows what he means.

Outside his front door one day is a large floral arrangement from Scott, with a note that only says "Thanks for the game". It is filled with poppies. Grian stares at it for far too long. He does not bring it inside.

Tango insists they play minigames together, talk, tour bases. And finally, he says so very casually that he had fun, and would like to play again. Have the chance to win. Grian knows he will do it all again. (Grian suspects Tango will not win, and he knows winning isn't worth it; he keeps those pieces of information to himself.)

Martyn writes a week later. He is grateful for having met Ren; bitter grief still sits in the gaps between his words. He say it was all worth it. Grian is too relieved at the forgiveness to call him on the lie.

Ren takes the longest. Several weeks come and go before Grian happens to cross paths with him. At first every word sticks like ice in his throat, but gradually the tension cracks and jokes seep through. Grian takes the plunge and apologizes for killing him (Scar did it, but by then the division between their actions was a technicality.) Ren says that given how it ended, there is nothing to apologize for.

He asks if Grian has forgiven himself, yet, for the end. There is an answer, but not one Ren will want to hear, so he just shakes his head.

Grian wakes from a dull, dreamless sleep and begins jotting down ideas for another series the next day.

#this has been in drafts too long so now it goes here #life series #3lsmp #third life #grian #i think Scott's section is far and away my favorite. bdubs is also a fun one #fic #salem tag #salem fic

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doc-pickles · 6 months

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waking up in vegas | matthew tkachuk x hughes!sister (p. 1)

series masterlist

summary: nothing can go wrong when you take a sibling trip to vegas with the tkachuks… right?

warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption, allusions to sex but no smut

a/n: this is a self indulgent fic that I might write a part two for 👀 enjoy!

xoxo

nina

The light shining through the windows is too bright, the hum of the AC is too loud. The blankets are too heavy, even the skin of your arms and legs feels too hot.

Yup. You’re hungover.

With a groan you push your face back into your pillow, trying to regulate your breathing as you fight back the urge to vomit. You don’t remember much from last night besides your brothers feeding you shots and dancing with Taryn. At some point, you’d lost Brady and Jack was heckling Luke for something you can’t recall. Quinn had been complaining about the music being too loud and Matthew… Well, you can’t quite place him in your memories of last night.

Your family had been close with the Tkachuks since you could remember. You’d spent summers, holidays, and everything in between with them. Quinn and Jack had always been attached at the hip with Brady and Matthew while you and your twin brother Luke had gravitated toward Taryn.

When your and Luke’s 21st birthday came around Matthew and Jack jumped at the opportunity to plan a trip to Vegas to celebrate the occasion, excited for the seven of you to run the town together.

Except now you feel like you’re dying. You roll over in bed, expecting to find Luke who you usually crawl into bed with when drunk. But the body next to yours is more muscular than Luke’s and the arm wrapped around you holds you tighter than your twin ever had.

“Moving too much,” the sleep heavy voice next to you sounds. “Come cuddle, you’re warm.”

You stomach drops as you realize you know exactly who’s in bed next to you.

“Oh fuck!”

Sitting up in a haze, you look down at none other than Matthew Tkachuk who’s curled tightly around your body.

Your naked body.

“Oh my god,” you shriek, which instantly wakes Matthew up as you begin to fully freak out. “Holy fucking shit!”

Matthew cracks his eyes open, looking over the situation before pressing his hands into his face, “I am so fucking dead.”

“You? What about me?!” you throw your hands out in exasperation and spy something glittering on your left hand. “Oh my god…”

You turn your hand over to reveal a large diamond ring shining in the morning sun. Without thinking you grab Matthew’s arm, a matching silver band adorning his left hand.

“Did we get married?!”

At your words Matthew sits up, eyes surveying the hotel room. Your own follow his path, taking in the white dress and suit on the floor along with a bouquet of flowers, pizza boxes, and empty champagne bottles.

“Oh my god! Matty what the fuck!”

There’s suddenly a pounding on your hotel door and you can hear voices on the other side.

“I swear I’ll break this door down,” Quinn threatens as he calls your name. “Open up or I’m calling mom!”

Matthews face pales and you quickly scramble to grab a hotel robe before sticking your head into the hallway.

“Hey Quinny,” you grin, ignoring the furious look on your oldest brother's face and trying to tamp down your own nerves. “What’s up?”

“Oh nothing, just a beautiful day where my sister decided to get married instead of doing something responsible like going to bed last night,” Quinn deadpans as he glares at you from the doorway, Jack at his side wearing a smirk. “I just came down here to warn you that Luke is probably going to murder whoever’s in your bed right now.”

“About that…” you groan as you press your forehead to the cold wood of the door. “Hubby, are you decent enough for me to let my brothers in?”

Instead of a response a pillow hits your back and you take that as a sign from Matthew to open the door. When your brothers walk in Quinn groans and Jack begins to laugh hysterically until you glare at him and he shuts up.

“I can’t believe you eloped with Matty,” Quinn runs his hand over his face and heaves a sigh. “Jack, I told you this trip was a bad idea.”

“And where were you when the eloping was happening,” you ask as you sit on the edge of the bed. Matthew’s hand rests gently on your back and for some reason the motion is comforting. “I distinctly remember Jack and Taryn encouraging us to go to the chapel.”

“And you listened?!” Quinn screeches.

“And Luke was making out with the cocktail waitress,” Matthew supplies. As soon as he says it you have a vivid image in your head of Luke and a bottle blonde waitress sucking each others faces off. “Brady went back early to call Emma. So that leaves you Quinn.”

Quinn rolls his eyes, “Oh my god. You’re not pinning this on me. It is not my fault you two decided to get hitched because you’d had five too many margaritas and decided to listen to Taryn and Jack for advice.”

You open your mouth to respond but the door bursts open and Luke is now standing in the middle of the room with an angry expression as he takes in the sight of you and Matthew sitting together on the hotel bed.

“Luke-“

“I leave you unattended for half an hour last night and you wake up married?!”

“I wasn’t the one making out with the cocktail waitress all night,” you retort and Luke crosses his arms.

“You cannot seriously be comparing the two instances,” Luke huffs as he steps forward. “Move so I can punch Matthew.”

At your brothers words Matthew grips your shoulders and attempts to use you as a human shield. “You’ll have to get through my wife first.”

Luke, Jack, and Quinn all started yelling at that point, Matthew ducking behind you as they continued to argue.

“Enough!,” you shouted over your brothers. “This is a non issue, I’ll just get the marriage annulled and we can all pretend like it never happened.”

Jack scoffs, “Yeah tell that to Taryn’s camera roll. Pretty sure she’s planning on making you a wedding album for Christmas.”

Luke begins to protest again but you cut him off, “Non issue! Now get out so I can shower and contemplate my life choices in peace.”

Quinn and Jack make a show of grumbling and complaining on their way out the door while Luke stares you and Matthew down, “I swear to god Tkachuk if you find a way to fuck this up even more, so help me.”

“Goodbye Luke,” you wave at him and finally the room is clear. You heave a breath and turn to Matthew who’s grinning. “What?”

“If we’re still technically married does that mean we can have guilt free sex,” Matthew asks with a smirk, his fingers pushing down the top of your robe to show off the purple hickeys on your neck. “Because it looks like we already consummated the marriage.”

You groan, pushing off Matthew as you head to the bathroom, “In your dreams Tkachuk.”

“Trust me Mrs. Tkachuk I’m gonna have the sweetest dreams about you.”

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk fanfic #hockey #hockey fic #hockey imagine #matthew tkachuk imagine #florida panthers #florida panthers fanfic #nina writes

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writing-in-the-impala · 2 months

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Secret Smokes (Part 13)

Pairing: Teacher! Remus Lupin x Reader

Series Summary: When the reader bumps into the new DADA professor on the bridge in Hogwarts she begins to build a friendship with him all thanks to their shared feeling of not belonging and love for muggle cigarettes. Their friendship blooms while they both fight internal battles deciding what is wrong and what is right leading to a lot of fluff, angst, flirting and a rollercoaster of emotions.

Warnings: Swearing, smoking, drinking, teacher-student relationship, angst, jealousy, fluff, smut.

Word Count: 2698

A/N: This chapter is unofficially called PERCY STFU. Anyway, updates will happen every two weeks from now on as I'm about to start a new job and work such insane hours that my free time will be limited but don't worry there will be more updates and less Percy.

| SERIES MASTER LIST (All chapters) |

Previous Chapter, Part 13, Next Chapter

Remus was sitting at his desk in the classroom, marking papers as he waited for Percy to arrive. A part of him was glad that Percy wouldn't be speaking to Minerva, but he didn't want to encounter Percy either. He was ready to fight for you, lose his job for you, whatever it took, last night just further solidified it. He couldn't concentrate on the words in front of him he just kept thinking about the wolf, your patronus was a wolf just like his. Was it pure coincidence? Did it mean something? He had no idea but the biggest question was if it would be a wolf if you didn't know him? He was lost in his thoughts when he heard a knock on the door. "Come in." Percy walked in, head down, the room felt tense immediately. "Percy please don't sit down for your detention you will be cleaning the bookshelf, I want you to dust each book, clean the shelves and sort them back by categories." It was weird to Remus to speak to Molly's son like this, worlds and lines were beginning to blur.

"Professor, how can you give me detention if-"

"I didn't. Professor McGonagall gave you the detention." Remus cut him off.

"Don't you think it's hypocritical of you to punish me when you're the one in the wrong?" He snapped back.

"Listen here boy, you need to understand your place, I am your professor-"

"And as such, should you not understand yours, before you invite students into your bedroom?"

"I do not appreciate these accusations Percy Ignatius Weasley." Lupin was beginning to raise his voice and shout at the boy.

"I saw her come back home in your sweater."

"And did it not come across your mind, that maybe, she fell asleep on the sofa as she had too much to drink and I gave her it so she's not cold travelling home in last night's clothes? Did that not cross your mind before you sent me a letter threatening me? You know that behaviour could get you expelled." Remus was now shouting.

"But she didn't come back to the dorm last night, and she looks at you the way I want her to look at me."

"Percy you've known me since you were a baby. I am a man of my honour. I have helped your parents many times in the past and I'm grateful for their acceptance of my condition, but I do not understand why you are making this narrative up in your head. Especially in regards to me." Remus wasn't proud of his words but Percy was becoming too aggressive towards his current relationship with Y/N and he needed to stop him.

"I'm sorry professor, I didn't think about it, I just thought-"

"No you didn't think Percy."

"But she spends so much time here, she comes to your office every night."

"It concerns me that you are spying on my office door and on your fellow student. However, you are correct she has been coming to my office often because I am helping her pass her exams by trying to teach her seven years of missed lessons in a few months. I am trying to help her, I don't appreciate my goodwill being thrown back in my face by the son of my friends. Do you understand why I am so upset with you Percy?" Percy looked down at his feet, he knew he messed up.

"Professor I feel I may have misunderstood the situation." Percy began.

"Start with that shelf." Remus said as he left the room and went into his office. As soon as he closed the door he let out a long shaky breath. You were going to be the death of him. He knew you were worth it but the problem was your close proximity to the Weasleys, it meant that his personal, professional and love life were extremely intertwined.

He wished James and Lilly were still around, he would go to their house for a coffee tell them everything and they would laugh about how he was getting so wound up over a girl. James would tell him not to panic and Lilly would give him a warm hug before telling him she'd love to meet her. He'd organise a day where you met them and you would be nervous but he would know they would love you. He'd try to calm you down as you got ready but you would keep telling him your hair isn't right, or you should change while he would calm you down, eventually you'd show up to the Potters. After a few minutes you would get comfortable, you'd warm up to James first as you would get along with the same music taste, but you and Lilly would bond almost immediately after. Within a few months going around to the Potters, would be a weekly activity, Sirius would join too, Remus would feel comfortable leaving you alone with his friends while he went to help in the kitchen, you would feel like part of the Marauders family. He wished for all this, to experience it with you, to speak to his friends but he knew it would never happen. He enjoyed his relationship with you but he craved normality, to hold your hand, to visit friends, to kiss you goodbye. If only he could take you out to dinner, or on a date he would be a happy man. However on the other hand he couldn't offer you much, he wasn't a rich man, he was burdened by his condition for at least a week each month and he felt like he was getting old.

He checked his watch at an hour had passed so he let Percy go. When Percy walked into the common room he didn't even glance in your direction, he walked straight past you and straight upstairs. You didn't hear from Percy for a few days, Remus explained to you what he told Percy and you let him in on you're conversation with McGonagall. Things seemed good, until the next time you spoke to Percy.

You were relaxing in the common room with Fred and George when Percy asked to speak with you. "What's up?" You said as you moved to a more private part of the common room.

"I wanted to apologies for the other day." He began and you nodded. "I was under the impression you and Lupin were hooking up but Lupin explained everything, he told me how you and him are no different to the other students he tutors, it was me who read into it too much."

"It's okay Percy." You said.

"I'm still not comfortable knowing you two have probably fucked but I understand that's normal for him and his tutoring, and it gets results I mean even you have begun to study it all makes sense." He said with a straight face.

"I didn't sleep with him." You said firmly it felt like he was apologising just to get you to admit you have slept with Remus.

"So it's just the Slytherin girl he's sleeping with?" Percy asked.

"What Slytherin girl?" You asked a bit too quickly.

"You know the pretty one, dark hair, super tall, she could almost be a model, I saw them kissing as she entered his office for her tutoring today." He explained and you felt frozen. "Anyway I just wanted to say sorry that's all, I hope we can still be friends." You nodded in confirmation before ending the conversation and going back to sit with Fred and George. You didn't say a word for a while before you excused yourself and left the common room. Your mind wasn't thinking straight you just needed to know if Percy was telling the truth, a part of you knew he may just be trying to upset you but what if he wasn't? Percy didn't usually lie.

You got to Remus's classroom almost immediately, you could barely remember the walk over, you knocked on the door and there was no answer so you opened the door for yourself. The room was empty, you felt relief, and that's when his office door opened. McGonagall and Dumbledore walked out the room followed by Lupin. "Miss L/N, lovely to see you to what do we owe the pleasure?" McGonagall asked as she noticed you, Lupin's face had a puzzled and concerned look.

"Sorry I knocked, but there was no answer I just had a question for Professor Lupin regarding an essay he set." You explained. "But I can come back later."

"Nonsense, I'm sure he can help you." McGonagall said looking over and Remus who was at the bottom of the stairs along with other teachers.

"Yes, how can I help you?" He said clearing his throat.

"I was just stuck on which book I should use for the analysis of Hinkypunk, as I can't find anything useful on the reading list." You explained and he nodded.

"I have one in my office that will be useful follow me." And so you did walking into his office which had a silencing spell on it so you knew you could speak freely. "Why are you here Y/N? I told you I'm busy today." He said looking a bit annoyed.

"Percy said that he saw you kissing a Slytherin girl who was coming into your office for tutoring and it got to my head." You explained looking down at your feet in disappointment.

"so you decided to execute a raid?" His tone was harsh.

"You're angry."

"I'm not angry I'm just disappointed." You looked up at him, he was looking straight at you while he leaned on his desk.

"Disappointed? Oh no that's worse than angry."

"I'm just disappointed I can't stay with you here and take you to my room this instance." He said coming to kiss you. Your heart melted at his words. He understood you. "Just next time my dear, please don't let Percy's words get to your head. You know how I feel about you. Do you really think I would risk it all for someone less special than you?" He asked and you shook your head.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay dear, now take this book." He picked a book off his desk. "I'll see you later today?" He added and you nodded. You left his office first, thanking him and saying goodbye to the other teachers.

Later in the afternoon you returned to Remus's office after checking the Marauders map to see he's alone. You considered yourself an idiot for not checking it originally when Percy lead you into what you believed was a trap, he must've known that Remus was with fellow teachers so he wanted you to storm in there, and in your haze of jealousy and distrust you did just that. When you arrived to his office it smelt like hot chocolate and tea, you were greeted by the usual warmth of Remus. He gave you a soft kiss as soon as you entered his office and gave you a cup of hot chocolate as you both cuddled on the couch, his arm around you as you sat with your legs up snuggled into his side. "I'm sorry about earlier." You said and he looked down at you with a warm forgiving smile. "Don't be darling."

"I should've been smarter, I just let emotions take control."

"I'm glad you care about me so much as to storm down here at a mere rumour. Makes me feel special, but please know I would never do something like that, we may not know what we are but please know I'm committed to you." His words were filled with genuine love.

"I didn't think you'd really do something like that but the way Percy said it, it all went to my head." You began as you sat up.

"I understand."

"Can I tell you a secret?" He nodded in response. "I have this map, I found it with Fred and George, it shows where everyone is at any time." You pulled the Marauders map out of your pocket. "I realised I should've just used it to check, but my brain turned to fog as I rushed down here." He had a small cheeky smile on the edge of his lips that you didn't fully understand.

"Have you ever used it to see where I am?"

"Honestly? Yes. Especially when you've ignored me, I used to check it to see if you're at the bridge or not. Remember that time when you were ignoring me, before Sebastian and I became close, well at first I went to the bridge to wait for you but then I realised I could just check where you are on the map and if you were at the bridge I'd know to go." You admitted and he was almost at the verge of laughing. "Why are you smiling?"

"Many reason my dear. Many reasons." He kissed the top of your head and took the map into his hands.

"Care to share?"

"Well, firstly have you ever questioned the original owners?"

"What the Marauders?" You said before it hit you what you had just set, suddenly in your mind you were sitting on the steps of 12 Grimmauld Place again and Remus was telling you about his Hogwarts days. "The Marauders." You repeated looking at the map that was now in Remus's hands. "Padfoot."

"Sirius." Remus replied.

"Wormtail."

"Peter." Remus said through his teeth a bit at the painful memory of Peter's actions later in life.

"Prongs."

"James." Remus's tone was sad this time.

"And you, my moony." You said and he nodded. "You've been part of my life for a lot longer than I've known Moony." You said with a feeling of warmth and odd excitement.

"It's funny how the world works, love." He kissed the top of your head again as he stood up to take something out of his office drawer.

"I owe you so much, so many pranks." You continued and he laughed.

"That's the biggest compliment me and the boys could ever receive, we always hoped it would fall into the hands of someone like you and the twins." He had some parchment in his hands as he sat back down.

"I can't believe I didn't realise this all before." You were shocked at your own stupidity.

"Well here's another interesting thing. This here is my own version of the Maruders Map, I guess it's just the Moony map as I made it alone when I came to teach here." He opened the parchment to reveal a more upgraded version of the map, it had more information it was colour coded and it was less used. "Now remember the times I wasn't going to the bridge? Well that's because I saw you weren't going, I didn't want to stand there alone like an idiot when I knew you were in your common room. So I stayed and each night I was disappointed you didn't go but I understood it was for the best."

"So we were both-"

"Checking the maps and waiting for the other, yes." He said and you both burst out laughing.

"I blame you." You said laughing. "They're your maps."

"I can't even fight that, oh if I could only tell James, he would love this. Sirius will rip me apart for this one." Remus said with a slight nostalgic voice as he hugged you a bit tighter. You could feel he felt both happy and lonely in those very moment.

"You're not that stand up citizen you pretend to be in class." You said with a small laugh.

"I thought we established that the first time I laid my eyes on you." He licked his lips.

"I can't believe I've been using your map Moony."

"I can't believe we were both using maps to spy on each other at the same."

"Remus we're both such idiots." You said and he leaned in to kiss you. "The biggest." He said right before he leaned in and kissed you slowly, as he pulled away he bit your lip.

"I remember I promised you a tour of my sleeping quarters?" He stood up reaching an arm out to you, the moment you took it he managed to pick you up and scoop you up into his arms. He carried you through the door that lead to his private quarters.

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NEXT CHAPTER | More stuff I wrote

A/N: Yes Inspector Calls is a nod to David Thewlis being in the BBC adaptation of the play

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#remus lupin x reader #student x teacher #teacher! Remus Lupin #professor lupin x reader #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #remus lupin #the maruaders #harry potter #remus love you #secret smokes #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin imagine #the marauders #sirius orion black #remus lupin smut #remus x reader #remus john lupin

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simp-ly-writes · 3 months

Text

Suits, Ties, and Thus Spy's (pt.2)

Pairing: Spy!Task Force 141 x Handler!Reader

Summary: The boys get suited up and training begins but as fate would have it, Whitby is keen on keeping your attention or rather making you gain more grey hairs as a mission goes south. Now having to take the task force out of training early, you can only help that under your guidance- they all make it back out alive.

Warnings: light swearing and teasing. A/N: hope you guys enjoy this next part! Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

Your design team and weapons master come through the door moments later, each coming up to press a kiss against your cheek in greeting as you do your best to not go pink with the jealous displays your team is already portraying to the new recruits. Pulling Head Tailor Jason down by his tie, you hiss in his ear, “do NOT mess this up for me, please” you add sweetly at the end before letting him go and displaying your smile once more for the crowd.

A series of assistants soon come from the secret back entrance, large on-wheel displays of shoes, watches and premade suits waiting to be tailored sit in wait as Jason nods twice, shuffling his tie from your outburst as he clears his throat, all eyes moving to cast upon his next words. “Afternoon recruits. I am the head tailor, Mr. Jason Carlisle. My associate Doctor Charlotte Derby who serves as our weapons master alongside my assistants Thomas and Evan will be serving you today.”

“And with that!” you start to say just as Jason raises an eyebrow, a missed call from Whitby being pinged to your phone takes your priority, “I will have to make my departure early for today, apologies- truly but you are in good hands I assure you. Laswell I expect a report in my inbox by the end of the day, thank you all.” Removing your fake earrings for your communications headset left in your briefcase set upon the desk. You shake each task force members hand with a firm grip before kissing Kate's cheek goodbye as you race back to your desk.

Johnny leans towards Kyle who watches you leave, leather shoes ticking against the marble floors as the elevator chimes and you are out of sight. “Where do you think they are headed?” Kyle merely shrugs in response, curious as well but holds any further thoughts as Mr. Carlisle has them all stand in a row as his assistants measure their proportions, check their eye colours and hold up various fabrics for them to feel.

Their hands work like a well oil machine as Jason camly states orders while moving up and down the line, not looking a singular man in the eye as he pinpoints miniscule details and chooses accessories best suited for the upcoming training season with the new gear.

Coming to stand in front of “Ghost” as Jason had been told in the notes, he had a special request to keep some form of mask. “Ghost is it?” Jason asks, eyeing the man's response- only to receive a singular nod. “About the mask dear, we have many options some more subtle than others but your comfort in the field is my sole priority under this position.” Jason snaps his fingers as Thomas comes running up, a box in hand that houses various forms of technology sat in velvet. “We can graft a digital face to cover your own, no one would be able to see your true identity unless you allowed them to or… if you like the…” his hand waves over the skull and bones patterns found throughout the man's combat attire. “Agent of death composition, we can keep the balaclava but place a more matte design for on-field missions. Now I must state that the second option might limit your position and the missions you will be assigned to but that is up to you to decide, sir.”

Ghost looks towards John who is begging man-handled by Evan at the end of the line, various fabrics thrown over his shoulder as they complain about accentuating his features the right amount. Kyle is tensing beyond relief as the Doctor shows the various weapons hidden throughout his attire, shivering in realization of how he almost impaled himself when a knife appeared from his wrist watch. Johnny was bright eyed, practically jumping around in his new suit, punching a mannequin in the corner- amazed how the design allowed him flexibility while being bulletproof. “I’m keeping the mask,” Simon states in a monotone towards the Tailor. Jason claps his hands together, murmuring a “good choice, sir,” before dressing him in a black suit with silver detailings.

Taking a step back, hours had passed before Jason was happy with each man's look as Laswell with a thoughtful smile across her features, hands drifting over the fabric of her own suit as she went through a similar experience all those years ago. Doctor Charlotte Derby addressed the room after receiving confirmation from the tailor and the group followed her out towards the training rooms. White marble soon transitioned to modern soundproof walls and black rubber floors that housed various maps upon them.

Walking past gym after gym, the boys were aghast to seeing the brutal training happening in each room- it looked like torture. From rehearsed waterboarding survival classes, crafting found-object masks to survive gas filled rooms or water-filled ones. It was nightmarish at times yet each agent held a proper smile of confidence as they navigated through each issue.

'`Will we be attempting the same, Doctor?’ John asks, trying to hide his slight concern for his task force as he looks towards Laswell for guidance. She offers him only a blank face, her own memories resurfacing. Even though she never had to go through the training, she bore witness to you going though each trial in order to gain the title you hold today. Kate remembers your screams, your broken-noses and blue-skin. But she would trust you more than anyone she ever would know to save her no matter the situation.

Charlotte looks back over her shoulder, only shrugging as she continues to walk and swipes her card to reveal you, still taking through your headset as you worked your way through three junior agents, burning them to the floor in seconds as they tapped for air. Wiping your forehead with some nearby towels, you smile towards the group just as Whitby whines for your attention to his mission once more.

“Whitby darling, I know you enjoy hearing my voice whispering in your ear but I am not your handler for this mission… yes, yes-I understand mr. But-nothing. Alright Whitby, I am hanging up now, kisses! Yes I am, grow a pair-” you end up growling at the end before ripping your headset off and standing beside the Doctor.

“You really have to reel that man of yours back in,” Charlotte states while looking over her nails, throwing a water bottle towards the rookies still catching their breaths on the mats as she hands you your gun back. Casting her a tight smile, “a conversation to be held later, apologies again,” you address the group, “I have a few agents out on the field currently that need my attention every now and then, you all will understand in time,” you charismatically chuckle after before stripping off your suit jacket, laying it flat across a steel table as you roll your sleeves up to your elbows.

The task force seemingly in a daze for your slight change in appearance has Charlotte clearing her throat and rolling her eyes, “you better not start those eyes,” she begins while pressing a pair of safely glasses to her face, handing each member a pair of their own before signalling the rookies to make their way back to training. “Have another four members to compete with for her attention, don’t want any in team fighting when you are here trying to steal them away in more ways than one.”

“Charlotte,” you criticize with a scoff before loading your gun, shivering with a smile to the satisfying click, “you all look handsome in your new suits, Jason did well as usual.” They each nod in conformation, Price finds himself in navy blue with neutral brown tones of shoes and a belt. Simon of course wears all black as Kyle wears a maroon ensemble. Johnny sports lovely charcoal grey pieces that have you making a mental check note to request another suit in a similar colour-way. “Now, Charlotte and I will continue to show you the various… safety features implemented into your new uniforms.”

Clicking your shoes together, a blade extends from the toe just as you repeat the actions to hide the blade once more as you comment, “Poison tipped blade in there, one good lick and anyone would be seeing the pearly gates.” The men copy your actions as the all take an extra wide step away from one another. “Of course our ties as well,” your hand drifts up your chest and towards the knot, “great for choking out an attacker,” you wink at Laswell while saying this as she chokes, whispering about her wife as you throw your head back laughing as she soon does the same.

Walking back over to your suit jacket, you feel around for your fountain pen inside before walking down the line, presenting them with the object for them to hold. Taking the pen back out of Simon's gloved hands you click it thrice in quick succession that extends a small pill at the top. “In case of emergency, this will kill you as well,” you add in a sweet, sarcastic tone. “But I will do my best to make sure it never comes down to that,” you add once seeing the concerned faces looking at you and Charlotte.

“Now,” you smirk, turning your shoulder slightly before whipping your arm around, a blade emerging from between the fabrics of your suit as its flies in between Johnny and Kyle's head, their shoulders tensing, eyes wincing before letting out a breath of relief. “You really think I would try and kill you guys off that quickly?” you tease, receiving no response as you click your tongue, skating your head as Charlotte begins to go over the various guns they will have on their person depending on the mission.

Picking up your custom engraved glock that your first handler gave to you upon promotion, you traced your fingers over the rides before taking aim at one of the targets at the back of the room. Each shot landing at the centre of the head, between the eyes as you flicked back on the safety and placed the barrel on the back of your waistband. A series of small claps go around the room as you turn to bow just as Charlotte hands each of them a weapon of their own. You both stand at the back, taking notes alongside Laswell to their techniques, strengths and weaknesses.

Your phone rings as you curse out, ‘What Whitby?!” you cry out, they merely clear their throat before answering your question as you look towards the ceiling, patience wearing thin, “I am currently being shot at Handler! I need some assistance pronto~” he sing songs out as you look towards the line of men who have their backs still turned to you. “Give me 15 minutes,” is all your state before starting up a new call with Handler Jacobs, “Okay Jay, what fucking game are you playing at- get a hold of your agents before I get a hold of you- is that clear?” you state with utmost vice, your words like blades in pleasure in hearing him wince at your tone.

“Of course, Handler D… I would not want to become part of your name's history,” he replies, shuffling of various papers easily heard from the otherside as they grip their desk in a panic, Samantha shouting from down the hall as an agent comes running into the headquarters, clearly injured and lacking the presence of another certain agent.

“Fantastic.” You end the call soon afterwards, not wanting to hear another word as you put your hand up and Charlotte signals for everyone to unload their gun and set them upon the table to be cleaned. “It appears that you will be testing out everything you learned sooner than I expected. Do not disappoint me in making this decision.”

“Yes, Handler” is sung throughout the space as you nod your head in approval before they trail behind you and towards your office where Jacobs anxiously awaits your presence. Palms sweating as they understand the hole they have dug themselves into. “I don’t wish to see your face Jacobs-” you state as they rush out the room, tail in between their legs as Samantha soon follows, not wishing to witness your wrath.

Handing each task force member a small chip to set in their ear. You test communications before using your desk phone to request a vehicle at the back of the store. The Task force looks between one another, nervous for your next move. Pulling out a drawer from your desk, a series of labelled envelopes meet their eyes as you pull out four and press them gently into each of their pockets. “Inside these packages are any unique identifications that may be requested on the designated location, arrival time is set for 30 minutes from now where you will be meeting up with Agent Whitby, top of the division and you will respect each other. I will hear nothing from either side and on that note, you are all to find and destroy the fake artifacts pictured inside the envelope. I will be live on communications alongside Handler Jacobs if you have any questions, conversions or need for immediate evac. If communications do go down, Whitby will be there to assist your team as he is being briefed currently- is that clear?”

Laswell nods her head for the group who are seemingly entranced by your sudden calmness as you sip the fresh tea at your desk, making yet another mental note to thank Samantha when this mission was over for the drink. Clapping your hands to your knees, Charlotte comes running in, keys in hand as she states the car and model they are to drive. Sending Laswell a smirk in reassurance, you all watch as they make their way back upstairs for the festivities to start.

Just as John is last to leave the room, you call out, halting him in his steps, “and do insure John-darling, that all equipment used today is back unscuffed.” He sends you a thumbs up before jogging back down the hall to catch up as you fall back into your chair and press your finger to the scanner. The room soon closes into security measures as a table emerges at the centre of the room, casting a 3D projection of the building and street they would be infiltrating.

Your fingertip casts over the top of Whitby's head, you watch as he moves up and down the halls with elegance. Shoving suits of armour into unsuspecting guards heads while silencing their screams by kicking their faces into the plush rugs below. “And so the fun begins…”

↳ Taglist: @thriving-n-jiving @cringeycookies @lilliumrorum @brokenpieces-72 @ashy-kit @notsaelty @hindi-si-ikay @sleepyycatt

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byunpum · 10 months

Text

Ghost girl | part 3

Pairing: Neteyam x Albino na'vi!fem x Sully family

Warning: All the characters are aged up 20’s, bad relationships, teyam is a shy babygurl, soft & crush moments.

Note:Sorry for the late update, I've had a lot of work to do and I'm finally on vacation. I will try to catch up. But thank you so much for all the love you have given to this series. BTW… I'll keep answering requests. I have a lot of them in my inbox, so please be patient.

AVATAR MASTERLIST | Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 , Part 4,Part 5(final)

3 weeks had passed since the Sully family took you into their home. Your injury had healed, and little by little you had started to help more in the family home. Because the camp was a rather uncomfortable and small place. Neytiri convinced you to live completely in the family hut, in a way she felt responsible for you. After all she was the one who had found you in the jungle. She also felt that you needed her, so she promised herself to take care of you. Jake didn't mind this, he thought it was adorable… to see neytiri so worried about a girl totally different from them. But he supported his mate's decision, you were a girl who had lost her entire clan. They should help you and make you feel like part of the new clan. Or so they were trying.

The Omaticaya had never interacted with the Na'vi of the cold mountains. They had heard stories, and only a few had seen a few. Your clan was known to be very polite, a bit of a hermit and not very sociable. They were not aggressive, but they did not like to mix with other clans. Besides the physical and social differences. Your clan was different in their way of living. In the last few weeks you could see how everyone did their chores, how the clan lived together. Of course, all this from the door of the hut. You were still a little afraid to go out, you had walked around the hut. But no more than that. You were curious, how you were going to help them. You had to learn to do something. You hadn't noticed, but Kiri had already come closer to you. Sitting down next to you. "Hey…what are you looking at? Are you looking at tarsem?" kiri teased a little. This comment caught the attention of neteyam, who was getting his things ready to go fishing. "Oh no" you laugh nervously, yes you had noticed this guy's presence, but that wasn't what you were looking at.

Neteyam clears his throat, coming over to where you two were sitting. "What are you two talking about?" the boy asks, playing dumb. "mmm nothing…about Y/N. She's spying tarsem, that's bad" kiri continues teasing. "Stop!!!" you push her a little. As your eyes meet neteyam's, he had a forced smile on his face. The last few weeks, ever since you had arrived at the hut. Neteyam has been silently close to you and your baby. Watching you from afar, or sitting closer to you at meal times. Helping you take care of him, or just holding him while you did other things. Making sure everything was okay, of course…all with a low profile. Everyone thought neteyam was being nice and wanted you to feel at home. So did the other members of the family, but you… you knew this was not the case. Neteyam was forgetting that your gift as a seer allowed you to feel and see things that others did not. You didn't know exactly what that feeling was that neteyam radiated when he was around you. But you knew it wasn't something normal…it was something very intense.

"Tarsem is a guy…quite interesting" neteyam speaks with a hint of annoyance in his tone of voice. Playing with your baby, which was in your lap. Kiri laughs again, nudging his brother on the shoulder. "He's interesting…and he's very cute" kiri looks at you, watching you roll your eyes back. "I'm not looking at him…I'm looking at that" you point to the group of women who were separating some fruit. Others were making baskets. "Ahh they're just picking fruit" speaks neteyam.

"They didn't do that in my clan…in the cold there are no fruit trees" you say, while still looking at the group of women. Kiri and neteyam stand silently looking at each other. "No fruit? So what did you eat?" asks Kiri. "Meat…and some berries and herbs" you smile awkwardly. You watch the look on kiri's face turn to one of sadness. "It must be very sad," says Kiri. You laugh and settle closer to neteyam. "It's no big deal… my clan was located in the area where there are many storms. So these foods are perfect for survival" you try to explain to them, but you could still see the anguish in their eyes. If it could be a bit depressing, you could occasionally enjoy some fruits that survived in the cold snow. But you were used to it. "But… I'm glad to be here, I've eaten a lot of fruits and I love them" you smile shyly. Noticing how neteyam was literally glued to your side. Your arm was bumping against his. After a short silence, neteyam had an idea.

"Why don't you come with me to get some fruits?" asks neteyam, placing his hand on your thigh. You bristle under his touch, he doesn't know what he's doing to you. Of course, he couldn't feel what you could, it was all too intense. "I'd like to…but" you lower your gaze, watching as your baby played with one of your braids. Braids that Neytiri had made for you the night before. Kiri steps up, and takes the baby in her arms. "I'll take care of him…it will be good for you to go for a walk" says Kiri. You think about it for a moment, but agree. Herwì had just turned 2 months old, so he was a little easier to take care the baby. You stare at Kiri for a moment, you swear you can hear a voice saying "he'll be fine". You panic a little, they turn your head. "Everything okay?" kiri asks, you try to laugh. "Yeah, yeah….esta fine, if anything happens you look me for me" you agree. Watching as neteyam gets up from the floor, going to get some baskets.

"So what are we waiting for….let's go" neteyam says, placing his hand on your back guiding you. You give a last to kiri and then walk out of the hut. The further you walked, the more surprised you became. Not only by the differences between the na'vi. But by the amount of humans walking normally, it made you a little nervous. You knew that everyone got along well, and that these humans were not dangerous, even your instinct told you that you shouldn't be afraid. But still… you felt fear. "How about we go to my ikran, what do you think?" neteyam asks you, trying to distract you. "Really?" you sound excited, ever since you had seen the ikran you wanted to ride them. A couple more minutes and you are ahead of the ikran. You grab the creature's head. Neteyam is silent, watching his ikran go calm under your touch.

"You are precious" you whisper, closing your eyes. Neteyam's ikran becomes even quieter, just as you touch it. You could feel its heartbeat, you look up, staring into the animal's eyes. "You haven't named it, why?" you look at neteyam, who had already walked beside you. "Ahh I don't know… I didn't think he wanted a name" says neteyam laughing a little. Holding up the baskets. "Well yes…you should" you speak. "I should" there is a small pause between the two of you. "Ok…all set" neteyam climbs into his ikran, inviting you. You take his hand, and he helps you get comfortable. "Hold me tight" neteyam says, as you wrap your arms around his waist. Holding you tightly, so that the ikran begins to fly.

The view was so beautiful. The mountains, the wildlife. The clouds that adorned the tops of the trees. Neteyam was silent, noticing how you were relaxing. Just as you were gaining altitude, in the distance you could see what had once been your home, Neteyam's eyes opened wide. You could see the large area that had been burned. As smoke billowed from the burned trees and floated up to the heights. Neteyam can feel your grip getting tighter. He moves one of his hands, to touch yours. Which was now on his chest, giving it a squeeze. "That was my home" you speak, laying your head on his back. Neteyam holds your hand tighter. "I'm sorry…I'm so sorry" neteyam feels you settle more on his back hugging him, he knew you were looking for some comfort. Neteyam has never seen first-hand what the brutal loss of his clan was like. Neytiri and Jake only talked superficially about it. Sure, he had seen destruction. But the destruction of this magnitude never. And that you had experienced it firsthand, it broke his heart. He felt bad…knowing that his mother had to suffer as much as you did. Or worse.

Neteyam diverts his ikran a bit, to take another route, and so get away from the area. After flying for a while, you both land on a branch. You cautiously climb down from the beast, while Neteyam begins to place several baskets on his shoulder. "I told you that I'm not very good at climbing?" you say, looking down at the ground. "No? Why?" neteyam comes to your side, looking at your worried face. "Well… I didn't have the need to climb trees. I was just…walking" you feel yourself getting a little dizzy, seeing the height of the tree to the ground. Neteyam holds you by the arm. "Oh I understand…mmm climb on my back" says neteyam, bending down to be more below your height. You move closer, hugging his neck. Feeling neteyam's hands wrap around your thighs, pulling you up onto his back in one swift movement. "Hold on tight," neteyam says.

"You're not going to let go…are you?" neteyam can feel how nervous you are, you're shaking a little. And your tail was thumping his hands. "No…but if you want me to release you to the ground" neteyam jokes with you loosening his grip a little. You scream and hug him tighter. "Just kidding… calm down" neteyam starts to climb down the tree carefully, it wasn't very tall. So you reached the ground quickly. Carefully releasing you on the ground, making sure you were okay.

"Well…that wasn't so bad" you speak, adjusting several pieces of your top. You were still getting used to how revealing these clothes felt. Neteyam comes over, and adjusts a piece. Carefully, checking to make sure it was in the right place. You stand still, noticing how carefully he touched you and cared for you. So different…so kind. Making your heart clench. "If we follow this path…there are some trees that have the best fruits" neteyam speaks, he was so close to you. You could see all his expressions, and how his little ears moved as he tried to find his way through the jungle. Taking your hand, to start walking. You don't complain, you let him guide you. After walking for a while, about 6 minutes. You get to where the trees were. They were all full of yellow and red fruits.

"It's harvest time…I know you're going to love them," says neteyam, watching you walk away. To get closer and investigate the fruits further. They were so strange to you, Neytiri was bringing another type of fruit to eat..this one was bigger and brighter. "These days are supposed to start picking this fruit…look" neteyam plucks a fruit from the tree, and offers it to you. He gestures with his mouth for you to bite into the fruit. You laugh a little, it looked funny. You take it, and take a bite. Enjoying the new texture, taste and smell you were experiencing. Your ears perk up, and your tail starts wagging fast. "You like it, don't you? It tastes wonderful" neteyam asks, munching on a fruit. "This…is delicious" you speak with your mouth full. Neteyam laughs, he thought it was adorable to see you discovering something new for the first time. You both sit on the ground, laying your back on a log. Eating more fruit, while Neteyam told you all about the fruit. He told you that this was not the only fruit there was, that there were hundreds of them and how they should be harvested and cared from them. You listened to him very attentively, surprised that there was such a variety of fruit.

After a while, the two of you started talking about anything and everything. Until the subject of your baby came up. Neteyam was curious. Since you didn't talk about your mate, usually couples talked about their mates. Even if they had died, they still remembered their memory. You had barely mentioned it once. Now you were sitting, eating another piece of fruit. Neteyam cleared his throat and spoke. "Y/N…I have a question?" you could tell the nervousness in his tone of voice. You respond with a "Hmm?" but continue eating your fruit. "I wanted to ask you something about …. the father of your baby" speaks neteyam. He notices how you have stopped eating, and you put the fruit in your lap. You look up, to see neteyam. "I've noticed that you hardly talk about him, and…" you interrupt neteyam.

"seyey was one of the strongest hunters in the whole clan, at such a young age he had a lot of experience. He had earned the respect of the entire clan. Including my father…the clan chief" you pause. So you were the clan chief's daughter, now it all made sense. "I guess…he wanted you to be with him," says neteyam. You nod your head in agreement. "He thought seyey was the perfect mate. Our clan thinks about preserving our lineage, it must be pure. So as soon as we came of age, we united before eywa" you spoke with your eyes on the ground. Neteyam didn't want to say anything, he could see how uncomfortable this topic made you. "The only thing that came out enjoyable, was my son herwì… we were unhappy together". "I'm sorry for everything…" neteyam put his hand on your back. "My father only wanted the clan lineage to stay intact…no matter what I really wanted. He wasn't a bad father, but he didn't listen to me" you speak.

"And what did you want to do?" asks Neteyam, trying to cheer you up a bit. You blush a little, a little embarrassed. "I wanted to be a slinth rider" you speak, neteyam is a little shocked. The slinth were dangerous creatures. "Those creatures are not from the jungle?… they are also very dangerous" neteyam notices how you laugh. "Yes…but the ones found in the cold mountains are another type of slinth…they are just like me" you laugh, taking a bite of fruit. "You can still be a rider…if that's what you want" speaks neteyam. You let out a sigh. "Well…what's done is done. There's nothing I can do about it. Besides…I think I know why I'm here" you tap neteyam on the shoulder.

"Really? And what's that reason?" neteyam moves closer to you. Wiggling playfully. "mmm I can't tell you" you change your face, laughing a little. "Come on…tell me!" speaks neteyam in a soft but at the same time playful tone. The atmosphere had become more peaceful, you both started to laugh. You knew what the reason was, you had a feeling that the reason why he had come to this clan. It was because of neteyam…because of the dream you had of him. Now you just had to find out what was the reason for your encounter with him. You two were so wrapped up in your own world that you didn't hear someone approaching. Neteyam was the first to notice the noises, there wasn't supposed to be anyone in the harvest area yet. Rising to stand in front of you, you carefully stand up.

Neteyam pulls out his knife, ready to strike at anything. But he immediately relaxed when he heard his brother's voice. What the hell is lo'ak doing here, Neteyam thinks. "Don't worry…it's lo'ak" neteyam lowers his weapon, watching as the voice continues to get closer. Out of the bushes comes lo'ak who was talking carelessly next to spider. You let out a low cry, and move quickly behind neteyam. Hugging his arm. "What's that 'thing' doing here?" you sound scared, you had seen the humans. But from far away. You had never seen one so close. "This 'thing' is spider…it's good" lo'ak says trying to calm you down. "Yeah…I don't bite" says spider, laughing a little. Everyone knew what you had been through, so this was a very normal reaction. "I see you" spider gestures with his hands, and you copy his greeting. Looking at neteyam, but not taking off from him. "I promise I won't hurt you…I'm good" spider felt somewhat responsible, even though he hadn't done anything to you.

Lo'ak had talked about you, the last few days. And he was fascinated to meet you. An albino na'vi and from the cold mountains. That sounded wonderful. "You've met norm?…you'd blow his head off" spider jokes a little. But your face turns to horror again. "no…I don't want to blow anyone up" you yell a little, whining. The three boys laugh out loud. "Babe..no. He says norm would be impressed with you. He just said a human quote" neteyam explains to you. "I'm sorry" spider apologizes. He doesn't want to scare you. "And you were doing here?" neteyam asks. Lo'ak points to the fruit in his hand. "Same as you guys…but without the romantic atmosphere" lo'ak scoffs. Neteyam laughs uncomfortably. "Why don't we go back to camp?" neteyam looks at you, and can see that she was still frightened by spider's presence. "Yes…I want to go back" you squeeze neteyam's arm tighter. You two begin your walk back to neteyam's ikran. Hearing the giggles of the boys. "Ignore them…yes?" neteyam takes your hand. You take another look and follow neteyam. "She's…she's very impressive" says spider. "I know…I've never seen anyone like that" says lo'ak.

Near the cold mountains…

"Sir…we've looked everywhere and nothing" says one of the warriors. The man clears his throat, holding back tears from his eyes. He could not look weak in front of his warriors. "Make a scan in the southern area, closer to the village" says the man. The warriors quickly look at each other with concern. "But sir… the humans may be nearby and" the man slaps the ground. "I gave an order!!!" the man shouts, all the young warriors get up and leave the cave.

"Father…I don't think we're going to find her" says a younger boy. The man strokes the back of his neck, letting a tear come out of his eye. This situation was killing him, he had to find her. "tekxe…we have to find your sister. I have a feeling she's still alive" says your father. Eywa always protects his chosen ones.

Teyam babygurls: symptoms-of-moonlight , tru-blubelle, mashiromochi, ducks118, @butterfly-ibuki, @innercreationflower, @ok-boke, @lovelyygirl8, @sandaltoesocks, @he110hon, @inlovewithpandora, @sussybaka10, @mommyneytiri, @daughterofjakesully, @symptoms-of-moonlight @ilostmyaccounf

If there is any problem with the tags, let me know and I will try to fix it as quickly as possible. tag list is open, just let me know *3*//

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