#but when men besides my family observe me...disgusting

[b00kdiary]

Unexpected (Part I)

Aemond Targaryen X Betrothed Baratheon reader

Aemond Targaryen is sent to Storm's End to secure a marriage pact to gain the Baratheon's alliance in the war. And yet, when he discovers Y/N Baratheon, the black sheep of her family, hidden away at his arrival, he knows that fate has predestined their meeting. He has to have her.

Warning: long chapters, swearing, eventual mature content (18 +)

Masterlist (Aemond Targaryen)

“Prince Aemond Targaryen”

My name was announced as I entered the dark and macabre hall of Storm’s End. My eye quickly flickered to the round and dark-featured male sitting upon his chaise, watching me as I moved towards him.

The room was silent besides the pattering of rain against the stone walls and the click of my heels against the floors.

“Prince Aemond” Ser Borros Baratheon greeted, his head dipping in respect, though he did not stand from his chair.

I didn’t particularly care for the impertinence, but my boredom at this tedious affair was pushing me to end this quickly and fly home.

“Lord Baratheon, thank you for extending your welcome to me. You have a fine home.” The words were still and passive as I stood before the man. He observed me, eyes weary at the eye patch adorning my face and the various daggers and swords strapped across my body.

They were not for him, I reminded myself, trying to ease my posture to not be honed for violence and battle.

“It is an honour to have you here Prince Aemond” Borros replied, his deep voice echoing in the large space. “The raven your mother previously sent was persuasive indeed, a rather beneficial alliance for my house should we choose to ally with your brother instead of Princess Rhaenyra.”

He chose his words carefully- brother, not King and Princess, not Queen.

“I don’t see any downfalls to joining our cause, Ser” I raised my brow, scrutiny across my tight face. “King Aegon has the allyship of majority houses and their men, and should you too ally with us not only will you be on the winning side of this war but your grandchildren will be both of Targaryen and Baratheon blood.”

The idea slithered across me in disgust, the prospect of marriage and children one that brought a scowl to my face.

Though I did not show it, I would do my duty to my family and marry.

But that did not mean I had to do so with a smile on my face.

Lord Baratheon considered, his large chest rising in a deep exhale as he nodded in agreement.

“Right you are Prince Aemond.” He said, and I nodded my head in thanks, victory filling me at the notch in our belt against my whore sister and her bastard children.

“Bring in my girls” Borros called, his dark eyes shifting to the left doorway, a mixture of pride and uneasiness etched across his face. My lips thinned and I hide my gloom as four ladies strode in, each beautiful, tall and thin with dark hair and eyes and lovely gilded skin.

I wouldn’t pretend that they were unpleasant, but as my eyes ran down the line, ignoring the hopeful and pleasing smiles etched onto each girl's face, I frowned.

“I was told that you had five daughters, Lord Baratheon.” The room shifted at my words, Borros tensing as each girl's smile faltered. “There are only four here.”

“Indeed Prince” He rustled out, rubbing at his beard with annoyance. “My youngest daughter is… not suitable for this arrangement.” The words came out in a hesitant, strained tone.

“Her age?” I asked my brow-raising, curiosity filling me.

How unsuitable could she be that her father would deny her the chance to marry a Prince?

“Ten and eight,” He said frowning “But that is not the issue at hand. There are four of my very beautiful and endearing daughters before you, you may choose between them.”

My eyes narrowed at that command and Borros stiffened as I stepped closer, the light above cascading over my severe expression.

“What is wrong with her exactly?” I demanded, my voice slipping into that calm storm that had most men shaking, and though Borros contained himself, fear flashed in his eyes.

“She is not particularly trained for the challenges of marriage, My Prince” One of his daughters, the girl in the middle stated, her eyes bright and lip quirked as she beheld me. “ We consider her a bit… simple and strange in our family.”

The other girls giggled, hands covering their mouths delicately as she spoke and my eyes tapered, silencing their teasing.

“I will choose my betrothed upon seeing all of your daughters, Lord Baratheon, as is my right” I mandate stoically, eyes falling back to the rage and ire that shines on the Lord’s face. He looks as if he will protest and even the young women beside him look outraged, but no one disagrees.

“Mary” Lord Baratheon calls to the Lady-in-waiting standing by the door, his voice a sharp slice “Call for... “

“No need for the trouble Lord, I will follow Mary to the young ladies' chambers and return with my answer. The walk will allow me some needed time to think, I’m sure.” I tried not to show my distaste at the girls before me, but still, they seemed stiff with indignation.

I didn’t wait for the Lord’s reply before strolling over to Mary, and her face flushed and auburn hair fell to shield her face as she bowed to me in greeting. I nodded, tilting my lips in what I hoped was not an intimidating greeting and she calmed marginally before turning on her heel to lead me through the doors.

To the unwanted daughter that lay beyond.

***

“Gods, I am going to throttle Floris for touching my things. She never puts them back where they belong” I mutter, growling in anger as I grabbed my discarded book off a completely random shelf, a place it had not been before.

The doors of my chambers click open, and with eyes firmly on the novel in my hands, I turn “Mary, tell me, which of my miserable sisters did the Dragon choose as his prey” I tease, chuckling.

“The Dragon is yet to decide which prey suits him.” An amused and deep voice rasped.

I gasped, my book clattering to the floor as my eyes beheld the silver-haired, one-eyed Prince before me. “Shit!” I whispered and then winced at the profanity as I ducked to grip the book back into my shaking hands.

The Prince watched me with a wide and surprised eye, his lips twitched slightly at the corner as he observed my rattled form and obscenity.

“My Prince” I bowed quickly, discarding my book and attempting to recall how the Septa would scream at me to bend my knees lower and straighten my back. “I express regret, I had not been expecting your presence in my chambers-“

His eye glosses over the room at my words, taking in the books littered carelessly across the floor and tables, the clothes scattered in a heap at the corner of the room and I close my eyes in humiliation as his eye finally falls to my white and fitted nightdress.

The one I had adamantly not wanted to change out of.

I fiddled with my fingers, nerves wrecking through my body as I beheld his scrutinising watch, his face tensed with contemplation as he looked at me. His face revealed nothing of what he thought though, that angled and strong face a wall of impassivity.

My gaze flickered over him, having never seen him before. I took in the tight and form-fitting leathers that clung to the toned body beneath obscured by his long coat, the assortment of weapons strapped to him before tracing over the thin line of his pursed lips, the smooth texture across his severe face.

And that eye patch.

He hardened as my gaze fell upon it, as if in expectance, as if in interest at my reaction. Though when I merely cocked my head, curiosity and gentleness filling my eyes at the soft scar and brown leather, he seemed to relax, huffing quietly.

“It would seem that you were neglected from the introductions today, Lady –“ His brow raised in expectance and I stepped forward, arms folding over my body to hide from him.

“Y/n, Lady Y/N” I replied quietly and he nodded softly in acknowledgement.

“I was told that you were not suitable for this arrangement Lady Y/N, despite being of age and your sisters implied that you were not appropriated with the requirements for marriage.” He drawled, observing my reaction as he spoke.

“Let me guess” I muttered, biting back the bitterness in my tone “They described me as simple and odd, a cordial way of calling me a freak and unparalleled to them as a Lady and woman.” I scoffed out a laugh at that tired dialogue, and the Prince's eyes seemed to light in response, his body now leaning against the chest of draws at his side.

“Indeed” He hummed, curiosity and intrigue beaming in that sole eye.

***

The girl before me was not what I had been expecting.

I suspected that the fifth daughter had some kind of abnormality, a deformation that had marred her as unpleasant or made her act out.

And yet, as I stared at the blushing girl before me, it didn’t quite make any sense.

She was lovely, not like her sisters but unique from them.

Her chocolate brown eyes were wide and doe-like, intently watching me as I considered. She had thick and flowing straight mousy hair that was untamed as it fell down her back and shoulders, laying across the nightgown she had clearly not cared to remove.

It told me that either she had not been expecting company, or she did not care to impress said company.

My lips quirked at that, amusement filling me at, indeed, the strangeness of her character.

My gaze trailed lower, grazing over the supple breasts prominent below the white gown and then over her soft and curved hips and the stomach that sat out against the cotton material.

Unlike her sisters, she was much shorter and curvaceous, her body shaped with flesh and softness that went from the roundness of her blushed cheeks, to her breasts and ass, and I imagined filled at her hips, stomach and thighs.

She flushed slightly at my wondering eye, her hands clasping and unclasping before her, her restless feet rocking back and forth, as if desperate for me to either speak or leave.

She didn’t appear frightened of me though, besides the initial shock that had her jumping and swearing at my entrance, she hadn’t so much as stuttered as we talked.

“What do you think Lady?” I asked suddenly, my arms folding over my chest. She quirked a brow at me, surprised that I was asking for her opinion.

I imagined that very few cared to hear her thoughts in this place.

“I-“ She paused, swallowing as she looked down for a moment “I understand their sentiment, I have never been one for embroidery or etiquette classes, not particularly amenable. Especially not for a Prince. My sisters have excelled in that department and they are better suited to marry into the Targaryen family and bring honour to the Baratheon name.”

The words were quieter and tamed in comparison to the girl I first found when entering the room. I bit back my ire at that shining insecurity, that familiar ache of understanding running through me at the displacement she felt.

“Tell me about yourself” I demanded and she balked at that. I chuckled, low and throaty and she bit her lip in weariness. “Tell me more about what you like Lady- if not etiquette and embroidery then what?”

She contemplated for a moment, her hands rubbing against her thighs as she still gnawed on that plump lip. I begrudgingly dragged my attention away from her lips as she spoke.

“Reading,” She said nodding, her eyes lighting as she looked at the endless books scattered across the room. “I enjoy reading. And being outside; in the garden, the neighbouring villages… I used to train with my father as a little girl, wooden swords and then eventually a bow and arrow.”

I quirked my brow at that knowledge “Not many young ladies find interest in weaponry and fighting.” I say, though my words hold no judgement and she smiles slightly in appreciation at that.

“No, they don’t. And, such in my case, even if they do the unspoken laws of society deem it inappropriate” She rolled her eyes with ire and I hummed in response. “ But still when I can, when no one is watching and I have the time, I will practice archery and occasionally mimic what my father does with a dagger or sword.”

Her words held purpose, that shine of passion and delight flashing across her eyes as if in memory.

I don’t know why I did it, what came over me but before she could begin speaking again, I tore my dagger from its sheath and with imperceptible swiftness chucked it toward her.

Most women and some men would have recoiled, and rushed out of the way in instinct.

And yet, she caught it.

Her fingers wrapped around the handle, slightly off-kilter, knuckles white as she panted, her eyes wide in disbelief.

I smirked slightly, nodding to myself as I stood up straighter. My arms linked behind my back as she gaped at me, her large eyes flickering from me to the shining dagger in her right hand.

“What if I hadn’t caught it?” She demanded, a trace of anger lacing her words.

“But you did,” I replied simply, and her eyes narrowed down at that nonchalance lacing my tone.

Gone was that shy girl.

Good.

My face fell back into neutrality as I began to stalk toward her. She stiffened at my approach, her hand still holding that dagger before her as she watched me with weariness. I stopped an inch in front of her, that dagger's edge pressing into the leather at my rib.

She exhaled sharply as her uncertain and anxiety-riddled eyes observed me and she audibly inhaled, her hand shaking as I grazed my thumb against her palm, the dagger falling into my awaiting hand.

Y/N remained silent as I sheathed the dagger back in my belt, her breath a hot and shaky caress over my chin, her eyes looking up at me with perplexion.

“Lady Y/N,” I said calmly, my lips tilting at the corner in a lazy smile “ Please pack a small overnight bag with some clothes and necessities.”

She froze, lip pulling into her teeth as she hissed.

“Why?” She whispered back, hoarsely.

“Because you will be returning to Kings Landing with me.” I said, a low and carnal rumble “as my betrothed.”

***

I gaped, my mouth falling open in utter shock.

As my betrothed.

My heart was hammering in my chest so loud that it was all I could hear, all I could comprehend as I stared dumbly at the Prince before me.

“What?” I spat, noticing his eye spark in humour at the lack of formality and propriety behind my baffled tone.

“Pack whatever you wish, the rest can be brought over in the coming weeks.” He ignored my horror and trembling body as he stood back, his gaze shifting towards my door with veiled boredom. “I should go and inform your father and sisters of my choice.”

My sisters.

Oh, gods. My sisters.

I had just stolen their chance with the Prince, unwittingly yes, but they won’t see it like that.

“You worry about their reaction?” He asks, his jaw clenched, and I can’t form the words, so I merely nod in reply. He scowls, lips curling back from his teeth, “Not even the Gods could deny me what I want my Lady, your father and sisters stand little chance.”

My heart stuttered at the cruel and downright possessive tone and before I can even respond, the Prince is turning on his heel and coolly walked through my room and out the door.

Oh, dear Gods.

My hand was clutching my chest as I panted, desperately trying to gather myself when my eyes lifted to Mary, my lady-in-waiting, standing hesitantly by the door.

“The Prince chose me” I whisper, shock and horror present in my stiff body and wide eyes.

“I know” She nods, her face grave and she rushes towards me with a shaky sigh. “It is ok, Lady. You must breathe… here, sit” She pulls me over to a chair and my body collapses against it with a thud.

“Ok?” I choke, my voice and alarm rising “I am not suited to marry anyone, never mind a Prince of the Targaryen family!” I spread my hands over the cold wood of the table, digging my nails into the roughness to draw myself out of the hysteria.

I gasp, chest heaving up and down, up and down as I begin to hyperventilate. Mary rushes to kneel beside me, her golden eyes bright with worry as she rubs soothingly at my back.

“Y/N” she calls and snaps her fingers before my eyes to bring my attention back to her. “Do your list, tell me… tell me what are the pros and cons of this marriage” She beseeches with a straight and calm face.

Pros and cons.

My mind focuses, pushing out the blur and begins to flick through them, beginning with cons per usual.

“He’s said to be a very terrifying and ruthless man, I’ve heard some terrible tales about Prince Aemond.” I shudder, but she ushers me to continue “His family is in the middle of a civil war, I could get caught up in that nonsense and knowing me I’d probably get killed.” I whimper.

“And the pros?” She urges, nodding to me.

“He didn’t… he seemed normal, a little icy but not cruel or scary like I had thought he would be.” I say, nodding along tentatively as Mary does, a small smile gracing her lips “And… I suppose that Kings Landing would be rather beautiful, full of culture and experience. The opposite of Storms End.” I feel that clenching pressure in my chest begins to ease as more and more positives start to outweigh the negatives.

“One more.” She stresses, smiling encouragingly as my breathing evens out.

“And my sisters are going to cry with fury when they realise that their freakish, unpleasant little sister has snagged the Prince that they were desperately fighting each other for. They didn’t even consider me a contender, had bad-mouthed me, and yet it is I who will become a Princess.” I snorted, a giggle escaping me at the thought and its absurdity and as Mary chuckles along, I can’t help the endless and overwhelming bellowing of laughter that rushed out of me.

I bellow, clutching my chest, tears leaking from my eyes and Mary reciprocates, her slightly more mature skin, creasing.

“What is the meaning of this?” A stern female voice demanded.

The laughter cuts off abruptly at the sight of my mother’s fury in the doorway, her blue eyes glaring harshly at the two of us. Mary stood apologies falling from her lips, but my mother didn’t even glance her way.

“It seems that Prince Aemond has chosen you as his betrothed, Y/N,” She said coming towards me, her eyes softening as she beheld my apprehension. “You must fulfil your duty to our family, this alliance, this marriage will secure our place for centuries to come.”

“But mother, I didn’t intend-“

“It matters not what you did or did not intend, Prince Aemond had chosen you as his Lady wife, quite adamantly, and you will leave with him today.” Her sharp eyes snapped to Mary. “Begin packing her things, only necessary garments, only her best and some fine jewellery too.”

Mary bowed and rushed off, moving swiftly around my room to pack and organise for me to leave.

Leave my family.

Leave my home.

“Come” Mother called, her hand gripping mine and helping me up before pulling me along and sitting me before my vanity. She was wordless as she began brushing through my long hair, careful as she yanked out the knots in them.

She had not done this for me since I was a little girl.

My heart clenched and throat tightened as I beheld her frown, not at the wildness of my hair, but as she looked at me, knowing that I would soon be departing.

No one expected that this would be my last day at home.

I sat silently, my eyes taking in every feature, every touch, every smell of her as she pulled back the silken locks, pinning and half braiding the hair to fall in an extravagant fish-tail plait against my back. Her soft hands tugged at the front pieces loosening them, and the dark coffee strands framed my face.

I begrudgingly allowed her to rub a pink-rose petal extract against my cheeks and lips to bring some colour to them and even while flinching, I allowed her to adorn my eyes with the black kohl. I turned to her, my hands fidgeting relentlessly as she gazed at me.

“Beautiful” She whispered softly and I nearly sobbed at that pained tone, at that word that rarely had ever left my mother’s lips when regarding me.

I focused on my breathing as I was stripped, rubbed, cleaned and then oiled with jasmine and lavender before a few more servants came to help dress me.

Unlike my usual loose and unrestricted garments, my mother chose a dark green and cream embroidered gown, the neck low and laced as it went straight across my shoulders and back, revealing the bare skin there and my collarbones. The pearls adorning the clasps at my breasts revealed slight peeks of the flesh underneath, as scandalous as my mother could allow.

The dress fit tight against my chest and waist, hugging the stomach that was not at all flat. My mother frowned as she ordered the dress tightened, and I gasped in pain, my hands flying to the wall to hold myself up as the servant pulled the laces at the back, more and more.

By the time she was done, breathing felt like inhaling glass, but indeed, my waist and stomach were snatched in and looked much smaller than it truly was. I levelled out my breath as I beheld the way the dress flared out at my wide and fleshy hips, unchanged in shape, before cascading down in soft open waves around my simple flats.

I looked pretty, delicate yet womanly, and more polished than I’d ever been.

But I looked nothing like myself.

And The Prince seemed to notice that immediately.

I followed wordlessly behind my mother as we entered the Great Hall and as my eyes locked onto Prince Aemond’s, he frowned, his eyes falling over my hair, and face and then resting on the waist that was too small.

I blanched at his stare but quickly was saved from any further scrutiny as my Father came to stand before me.

“Father” I whispered tenderly and his eyes melted as he beheld me.

“My little girl, all grown up.” He said quietly enough that only I could hear. I choked, tears now welling in my eyes, and I did not care who was around as I threw my arms around his neck and buried my head in his chest with a sob.

He sighed dejectedly, his large body engulfing mine in a hug that was too much yet not enough. I shook slightly as he rubbed my back and pacified me, and after a few moments, he pulled back, sadness in his now-red eyes.

I wiped at my face, not caring at how the cosmetic had smudged there as I regained my composure and evened my breathing. He nodded gravely at me and as he kissed my palm with a father's love, it took everything in me to not begin sobbing again.

I sniffed, my hands clasped against my stomach in pain as he moved from my path and I beheld my four sisters.

And suddenly, crying felt bizarre to do.

They glared at me, accusation and bewilderment in their brown eyes, even as they beheld how I looked. I could see that writhing jealousy a mile away. I sighed wretchedly and bowed my head slightly with a frown in goodbye.

They seemed to pause, their faces faltering as they glanced at one another. I turned to move away and before I knew it, I felt several arms wrap around me at once.

“Oh, you absolute pest, how can you leave us” Cassandra scolded against my neck, even as a gasp of a cry escaped her.

I laughed in surprise as my sisters hugged me fiercely, and was even more surprised by the small cries and wet tears that I felt against me from them all. “Take care of yourself Y/N, don’t forget ‘Ours is the Fury’,” Floris said, tears shining in her beautiful eyes as she pressed a gentle kiss to my cheeks.

I nodded back firmly, no longer crying, yet dumbfounded and unable to speak. They all stepped back from me, retreating to the side again as I closed my eyes and braced myself before turning to walk over to Prince Aemond.

He was frowning uneasily as he watched me, his arms behind his back and his body straight but his face did not hold any cruelty, any mocking as he beheld my tears.

My breath caught in my throat as his hand lifted, steady and sure and so very gently wiped away a tear that fell down my cheek. I bit my lip, my hands clenching as he watched me and my body grew hot under that neutral look.

“Prince Aemond, perhaps you should consider your journey, the sky seems to be darkening.” My father roughly cut in, a harsh and protective glare thrown at the Prince. He looked at my father, irritation lighting his face but he simply nodded, looking once at me in confirmation and then walking towards the front doors.

I followed behind with shaking hands and trembling feet but I tried to maintain my control as we stepped out into the courtyard.

Where a Dragon the size of a castle stood, baring its teeth and growling in all its glory and horror.

“Vhagar” I gasped in amazement and Prince Aemond’s eyes locked with mine, his lips parting.

“You know of my dragon?” He questions in intrigue.

“Of course,” I say, my eyes returning back to the beast in complete awe “She’s the largest in the world, Visenya rode her during Aegon’s conquest- well their conquest, I suppose. ”

Silence followed and my eyes moved back to the Prince, but he was already watching me, an expression of respect playing on his strong face.

“Well, considering you already know so much about her, riding her shall be little difficulty then.”

“What?” I snapped but then cringed in apology at the horrified look my mother threw my way. He snorted quietly before walking forward towards Vhagar and I trailed, my stomach twisting into knots.

Never mind dying in the war, I’d probably get eaten by the thing before I even left my home.

“Don’t worry my Lady” He said, noting my paleness “ Vhagar will not harm you, not when she sees you with me and you won’t fall, because I won’t let you.” His stare held conviction, utter conviction, and I merely nodded reluctantly in reply.

“I suppose that dying while riding a Dragon is quite a worthy death” I joked, and despite my family's indignation and sighs, Prince Aemond merely huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. He held out his right hand as he stopped beside the ladder descending down Vhagar’s back, patiently waiting for me to take it.

I exhaled harshly as I neared the obscenely large and terrifying creature, the low growls and snarls reverberating across the ground and into my body. I nodded to my sisters and then to my father and mother in a final farewell.

I look away quickly at the bitter sadness that seems to suffocate the air, my eyes already burning. Instead, I place my shaky hands in the strength and solidity of the Prince’s and I’m glad for the reassurance in his sapphire blue eye.

He takes my hand and places it against Vhagar’s rough skin, and I shudder at the scale and indents of hundreds of years’ worth of life as the beast groans but doesn’t falter. I nod once and Prince Aemond hoists me up, my hands coming to grip the ropes and lift my gown so that I won’t trip.

My chest aches in fear but as I glance down, Prince Aemond is already right beside me.

“You won’t fall, I won’t let you.” His eye seems to say in a reminder as he watched me.

I inhale and exhale deeply and without too much thought, I begin my climb up the side of the beast. It takes some time and exertion, my weariness and gown obstructing me and a few times, I would slip a step and cry out, only for a hand to instantly be at my ankle or shin, guiding me back to the step.

I pant as I eventually reach the top of Vhagar, my fingers digging into the seat placed there and I use that hold to drag myself up and onto the very top. I rasp as I take in the view, so much higher, far more surreal atop the writhing beast than it was through the window of a tower.

“Well done, My Lady,” Prince Aemond rasps beside my ear and I blush as I notice how close his body is to mine as he kneels beside me. He didn’t look nearly as winded, in fact, his body seemed to calm and breathing evened from the familiarity of his dragon.

He takes my hand and helps me onto the front of the seat, his hands fixing my skirt so that my legs could hold against the sides without issue. I shiver as his nimble fingers lift the material and he caresses my legs up to my knee, readjusting and strapping a tie around the sides.

 I don’t speak, nor does he, as he ties another around my waist, the rope attaching to the seat.

“In case you lose yourself in the air, the rope will ensure that you don’t fly off of Vhagar,” He says, noticing my stare, but when I blanche, he adds “ But I will already be there to ensure that none of that happens.”

“Thank you,” I say softly as he finishes securing me in place and then with swift and easy movements, the Prince moves behind me and mounts the seat.

I hiss in harshly at the feeling of his chest pressed to my back, though he doesn’t comment, instead his long and toned arms reach around my waist with efficiency, securing a tie all the way around the both of us before hooking it into place.

I tremble against the heat of his body, his chest and thighs like fire as it presses against my thin clothes and I bite my lip as the cool caress of air brushes my right cheek as he speaks lowly to me.

His hands fall to my waist as he says “ My sight is limited as you know, I rely on my right to steer Vhagar” He shifts my body to his left side where the eye patch is and rests my back against his chest there so his head is peaking over my right shoulder without any obstruction.

I nod absently, my body still tense and stiff at the foreign feeling of him and his hands that are grazing across my waist and hips, and perhaps unwittingly, but the sides of my breasts too.

“Should you feel you need the extra support, for fear or whatever else, you can grab onto these handles here, they will keep you firmly rooted in place.” He says seriously as if it were a crash course in Dragon safety.

“What about you?” I ask quietly and his eye glances over my shoulder to my weary face “If something happens… have you ridden with someone else on your dragon before?” I question and he shakes his head slowly, but his hands grip my waist in reassurance.

“Vhagar has never acted out without provocation and I do not expect that we will find any in the skies as we fly back home. I will be fine, as will you.” He reaffirms and I nod gently, my body relaxing against him slightly.

Once we were completely strapped in, I gazed down towards my family, much smaller as they stood at the doors of our home- no, their home now. I felt my chest constrict and tears burn my eyes as I lifted a tremoring hand and waved, their answering waves back a dagger to my heart.

Prince Aemond frowned at my teary sight but did not say anything as his hands snaked around my waist and he clasped onto the ropes there.

“Vhagar! sīmonagon se ivestragī īlva sōvegon” Prince Aemond bellowed out, and I crooned in wonder at that authoritative and accented tone, even more surprise filling me as that wild beast, listened and purred in response, stretching out its endlessly long wings.

“Ready, My Lady?” Prince Aemond whispered with a grin beside my ear and I couldn’t contain the thrill that wrecked through me as I gripped the handles before me.

“I’m ready, My Prince.”

He huffed, a hot breath beside my ear before he commanded “Sōvegon!”

And we were shooting up to the sky.

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x y/n #house of the dragon #aemond one eye #aemond x you #aemond x plus size reader #aemond targaryen smut #team green #aemond fanfiction

[wintersandthebeast]

40. Zoe

RE8 | Wintersberg | Romance, Slow Burn | Action, Sci-Fi

Link to Master List

Notes scribbled hastily, accompanied by sketches from ink and quill

Ritual observation

--Kings appoint priest and priestess based on ???? unsure.  Will ask King H. 

--were wearing white during the ritual, most others wore black.  Ritual was outdoors, at night.  Stormy and uncomfortable.  Very different from our Church customs

--after fasting and prayer (to whom? Unable to tell from language barrier, I must know this next) these holy people call on the spirits of the dead to enter this realm through the chalice

--nearby cavern in which animal was blood sacrifice….but then put underground??? 

--is this a ‘life for a life’ or some other rite? It terrified me

--a crystal of some type was placed on this chalice with more blood, from the priest and priestess

--my eyes are sore at me for this witnessing.  I would call it a miracle but it feels as if God himself was not involved. A little child appeared on this platform, at first glistening white, but then flesh and blood.  She grew from black strands.  Two of our party fainted.  Confess that I almost did

--she was questioned by the priest, and then the Kings, and seemed to have her faculties intact and was presented in court as the daughter, and re-baptised with their ritual

--this is a bizarre mockery of all that we have been told.  But my eyes have seen it, and we are all in shock.  How can this be real? If this is real, what of our God? What must he think of it?

--I want to be disgusted, but can only imagine the relief of the family.  The father was sobbing and none thought him less a man for it.  To have a second chance with ones child.  How is this evil?

--------------------

Ethan lay propped on one elbow, yawning as Zoe stared at him in awe.  He had just finished recounting the events from the night before, when Heisenberg ripped the entire surface of the mold mycelium from the field around them.  Now he rolled onto his back, still yawning, and rubbed his eyes.  He’d been in the guest room he’d prepared for her all night, as both of them talked about their lives post-Dulvey.  Now he wondered if he’d overstayed his welcome, as grey light began to inch through the second-story window, alerting him that dawn was coming.  

Zoe seemed even more restless than he, likely due to jet lag and the excitement from being in a new country.  Her uncle, who was like Heisenberg, rather erratic and intimidating, had immediately glued himself to the engineer, discussing topics like radio waves and munitions.  The pair of eccentric older men disappeared after dinner, leaving Zoe and Ethan to catch up, and leaving Ethan feeling very strange about their dynamic.  How could someone just appear at an isolated manor in Romania, warm up to Heisenberg, and then carry a conversation with him eagerly?  It made Ethan feel self-conscious, though he was not sure why.  

Then he became lost in conversation with Zoe, and the strangeness was put in the back of his mind. Zoe and Ethan shared a strangely similar bond; after her infection by Eveline, she was both put into and revived from a crystallized form.  It appeared this gave her similar ‘powers’ as Ethan.’  Both were reluctant to call them that, and both shared a sense of departure from their former lives.  Now he threaded his hands behind his head and stared at the unfamiliar ceiling, happy for a moment of comfortable silence.

Just when he thought Zoe might have fallen asleep beside him, she asked, “So…what exactly are you two then?  I’ve heard it all, but I’m still confused.”  Even tired, her voice held a humorous tone.  Ethan snorted.  

“I don’t really know,” he admitted.  “When I first realized I was back, and I had Rose…my first thought was to just run back to Mia and get the hell away from here.  It felt like Heisenberg was using both of us to make sure Miranda is good and dead.  But now, I don’t know.”

“But, livin’ here with him just…doin’ his thing and you bein’....kinda…trapped? In a mansion.  With a crazy man.  That…sounds like…”

“Beauty and the Beast?” he said in an ironic tone, and when she scoffed, he rolled his eyes.  “Trust me, I know, I’ve been living it for months now.”  

She said nothing.  Zoe shared his mistrust for anyone heavily involved in the incident or Miranda’s creepy, disgusting world.  

“I can sense things, yanno…your….emotions,” she said tentatively after a minute, and Ethan glanced over.  He was delighted that he wasn’t the only one with this blessing/curse, until her next sentence, which made his face fall.

“You care a lot about him.  So much it terrifies you.”  Now she smiled slightly.  “...Aw.” 

“Don’t aw,” he scowled.  “He’s a maniac.”

“So’s Uncle Joe,” she nodded, “Sometimes maniacs make the best caretakers.”

At this they both laughed.  Zoe continued, completely changing the topic (Ethan’s discomfort was more than easy to sense, even without mold powers), 

“So what’s this ritual you wanted to talk about?”

He paused.  This one might be harder to discuss than his feelings about Heisenberg.  Ethan chewed on his lip for a few moments.  Then, “I’ve been doing research, reading on how the kings in this area used to allow rituals that would bring back…people who had passed, I guess, who were catalogued.”  He had already told Zoe everything about Eveline and Zoe’s parents.  That conversation hadn’t been easy either. 

“It seems like more of an art than a science…” he began, and now she looked over sharply, tilting her head from its rest on her elbow.  

“Just who are you lookin’ to bring back?”  

Ethan sheepishly looked at her.  “It’s…I was thinking…for two reasons…one, she died really young and never got a life.  And two…from the years she’s lived in the mold she’s been trying hard to take Miranda’s power away….And….I just, I think she’ll be a bigger help with a physical form.”

Zoe exhaled.  “Oh, Eva.  You mean Eva, right?”

Ethan’s blond brow raised.  “You seem relieved about that.”

“I thought you were gonna say bring back Eveline, or my parents,” she said nervously. 

After another pause, Ethan turned to look at her, but she was now staring at the ceiling, an unreadable look on her face.  

“Is that…how do you feel about that?”

“No,” she said sharply.  “No to all of ‘em.  My mama and daddy died, to me, the first minute she infected their minds.  The sick part of it is that they were aware of every horrible thing they did to people, includin’ what they were doin’ to me for years, Ethan.  How could anybody live after that? No. Nuh-uh.  I know you said you kept those crystals…I don’t care what you do with ‘em…but I don’t want that.  They’re gone.  They deserve some peace.”

Contemplative silence.

“Also, Joe would kill ya.” 

“Yeah,” Ethan said after a moment.  “Yeah, I agree with all that.” 

“But Eva?”  Zoe could travel to the liminal space just as easily as Ethan could, had already met the ethereal other woman earlier.  She shrugged.  “Sure.  I don’t have a clue in the world how to, but we can try.  No harm in it if it helps figure out getting rid of that woman for good.  I mean…if you an’ I deserve to be here…an’ we do, Ethan--”

He swallowed, realizing he was at this point maybe the only person in the world who had any reservations about his own existence.  When was he going to just fucking get over it.  

“...then, I’d say, sounds like Eva deserves to be here too.” 

Ethan couldn’t believe the ease with which such an insane, reality-altering decision had been made.  Still, Heisenberg had made that same decision with him, hadn’t he?  To bring him back.  He had no words for how it made him feel, but he didn’t need to explain.  Zoe understood.  

Now she sat up and stretched.  “So, why does it need…people like us?”

“I’m not good at explaining it but…apparently the Kings had a court of people like us, whose only job was to figure out who to bring back, and then perform those rituals.  They could call on whatever power’s in the Mold to bring a person back to a normal form.” 

“Like Eveline coulda’ done with me, an’ didn’t,” Zoe said with a bitter edge.  

“Yeah.  They used crystallization against people too, when they had to.  But it seems like they were mostly peaceful.  Just not with outsiders.”

She grunted at this, but had no snarky reply.  

“Anyway, it seems that people like me and you are….well…” Ethan rolled his eyes at himself.  He’d been around Karl too long; he was going to give an analogy using electricity.  He hoped that wherever the hell he was, Karl was out of earshot.  Ethan ground his teeth.  “If the mold is an electrical network…like a big brain full of firing neurons, circuits everywhere…then people like me and you and Rose, would be transformers.”

“I don’t follow.  Like Optimus Prime?”

He snorted again.  “No.  Like power transformers, we can adjust the current, the…focus? Of the mold.  We can amplify its power.  When that power is focused on a crystal, apparently, a consciousness can be put into it.  If that consciousness is stored in the mold, it’s an easy transfer.”

“But wouldn’t you need a crystallized body?  Isn’t that how those… things … came back from yesterday?”

“If the person died, they were buried in the cemetery.  I guess they only let you bury family that were worthy or something.  But any crystal made by the priests would be able to create the vessel.”  Ethan scratched at his stubble, thinking.  “That’s probably why Miranda was so confused when not a single vessel, crystal, nothing, brought her daughter back.”  

“So if Eva knows to jump in the crystal.  Then maybe.…”

“It might work,” he nodded.  “Maybe.”  

“When are ya thinkin’ to do this…ritual…thing?”

“Maricara said we’d be stupid not to do it the same night as the festival…so, tonight,” he said with a wry chuckle.  “You know, magic in the air, lots of spirits to help, and all that.”  

Zoe stood, striding past the bed over to the large window that overlooked the back of the property.  She gazed over quizzically at Ethan.  “You sound like you’re too good for that kinda’ magic.” 

“I mean,” Ethan waved a palm.  “I don’t know that I believe in any magic.” 

Zoe looked unimpressed.  “I’d say beins’ like us are magic, wouldn’t you?” 

He frowned.  He didn’t feel like he was made of magic.  But Ethan had no reply. He had felt differently about it when Rosemary used her powers.  

Now Zoe turned and looked out the window; soon he heard a low whistle from her, and she actually giggled.  Ethan had never heard Zoe giggle before, and he turned his head in alarm.  She simply stared, nose pressed to the window.  “Oh boy, that Beauty and the Beast thing really makes sense now--” 

“What?”

“You mean you didn’t know what your boyfriend does at….” now she checked her watch, mentally calculating the time change.  “Five am?” 

No, actually, he didn’t.  When Karl disappeared, Ethan assumed he was up to weird, nefarious Heisenberg things.  Now he rose from the bed and strode to Zoe’s side.  At first he saw nothing but the sectioned gardens in the distance, and beyond them, the property’s cliff edge.  Now he realized Zoe was looking at a particular patch of garden, near a shed, where it was obvious someone had set up rudimentary-looking, militaristic training equipment.  

Joe leaned against the shed wall, talking animatedly while Karl lifted himself slowly but expertly, into a chin up on the rusted metal equipment.  Despite the morning chill, Karl was shirtless, and his comfort and ease on the makeshift pullup bar told Ethan that he spent plenty of time at it.  That did explain the large frame and chiseled muscles.  

He was hatless, glasses-less as well.  Now Ethan’s nose pressed to the window as Zoe giggled again.  After several minutes of more chin ups--ogled to in silence--Heisenberg hopped down and from the stand and turned to Joe, apparently replying to him.  

“Joe does the same damn thing. Every mornin’.  Was Heisenberg in the military?”

“I don’t actually know,” Ethan responded, and Zoe frowned at him, before gazing back at the man in the yard, who was now preparing to lift a barbell stacked with weights.  He stretched, rolling his shoulders before bending, beginning a set of bent over rows, and Ethan gazed at this too.  He was able to ignore Zoe’s sharp expression.  

“...How do ya live with a man and not know all those things?”

“I dunno,” he answered, feeling stupider by the minute, his eyes on the flexing, hardened biceps and back muscles.  “No idea.”

Now Ethan heard faint giggling from somewhere nearby, and he looked around quizzically.  The sound came from the adjacent wing of the mansion; Ethan could see this side of the manor from his own window.  Maricara’s daughters were plastered to a separate large picture window, also staring down at the brunette.  Ethan’s ears reddened and he backed away, trying hard not to smirk, and failing.  

“God, Ethan,” Zoe said, tearing herself away from the window.  “You are really dense sometimes, aren’t ya?”

He nodded in a resigned way, but was still smiling.  Finally he shoved her playfully.  “Come on, let’s get coffee.  We’ve got a lot to do” 

“Uh huh.  Includin’ you starin’ out that back kitchen window I bet.” 

#winters and the beast

[rocorambles]

Set My Heart Ablaze

Pairing: Matsukawa x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Non-Con/Dub-Con, Creepy Matsukawa, Obsessive Behavior, Public Train Sex

Prompt: Chikan/Trains/Public Sex

Summary: Neither of you can deny the mutual spark of interest between the two of you, but Matsukawa takes the matter of turning that spark into a fire into his own hands. Only time will tell if that fire will provide you warmth and comfort or burn you alive.

A/N: This is my submission for the HQHQ NSFW Collab! Masterlist can be found here. Be sure to check everyone’s content once the masterlist goes live tomorrow night~

The train doors open and Matsukawa briefly glances up, smiling to himself as you step onboard, looking left and right for an open spot despite how you always end up in the same corner of the moving vehicle. He doesn’t know anything about you, not even your name. Yet he finds himself drawn to the normalcy you bring, the comfort of knowing you’re a clockwork fixture of his everyday life.

It hadn’t always been like this.

Matsukawa is just a man at the end of the day and he doesn’t deny that he took note of you long before you became so ingrained in his life. But it had been no more than a man observing an attractive woman and he doesn’t give you another passing thought as he returns to gazing out the train windows.

But working with death on a daily basis makes you look at life differently.

He prides himself on being a practical and level-headed man and despite the heavy nature of his profession, he never thought he’d get too bogged down by the environment, by the grimness of his business. Sure, maybe someone like Oikawa would freak out within hours, if not minutes, of being in a funeral home surrounded by corpses and coffins. But he’s not Oikawa (thank God for that). It’s just a job to help keep a roof over his head and food on the table.

But the longer he’s surrounded by caskets, the more grieving and sobbing families and friends he has to comfort yet professionally guide through catalogs and brochures and price tags, he can slowly but surely feel the weight of his daily work resting heavy on his shoulders, digging deeper into him with every corpse and tragic story he reluctantly becomes privy to. Matsukawa finds a new appreciation for life, for every tiny and minute detail, and suddenly you aren’t just another stranger who happens to share his train route.

You’re a reminder that he’s still alive, that despite the curveballs life throws at some, he’s still blessed to enjoy the routine and monotony of it. Life looks different, clearer, as he begins to really pay attention, appreciating every moment he has.

Maybe he’s paying too much attention. He doesn’t know when he begins to focus so intently on you, shocking himself with the realization that he’s observed you so closely when he nonchalantly notices that you’re using a different tote bag than your usual one. When did Matsukawa Issei become someone who notices the details of a woman’s outfit and accessories?

He knows it’s not right, knows even Hanamaki would crinkle his nose in distaste if he found out Matsukawa was creepily studying a random unknown female on a daily basis. But he can’t help himself, his realization only seeming to make him unconsciously focus on you even more. He notices what hand you use to hold your phone. He memorizes every expression you make as your mind drifts off, lulled by the machinery of the train.

But looking from afar only satisfies him for so long and he finds himself creeping closer to you, adjusting where he sits to be closer to your preferred corner of the train. He always tells himself just a little closer, but it’s never enough. And although he’s now standing right beside you, close enough to see every eyelash, every pore of your skin, it’s still not enough. He needs to hear your voice, feel your body against his, know everything about you inside and out.

He understands the irony of the situation he’s found himself in, reminiscing on how Hanamaki and him had gagged at how disgusting men could be as they watched older businessmen grope and grab at poor unwilling female passengers on their way to and from school. He knows how wrong it is, how like an uninspired porno this is, but when the train conveniently rattles, he jostles his body into yours, “accidentally” bumping into you.

Acting isn’t Matsukawa’s forte, but he thinks he damn well deserves an award for the performance he’s putting on as he profusely apologizes to you, hiding the groan of satisfaction he feels from the brief contact he’d had with you, from the way your attention is solely focused on him, from the way your voice seeps into his ears like the loveliest melody he’s ever heard. He doesn’t even know what he’s saying, meaningless small and polite talk leaving his lips as his mind focuses on what’s more important, mentally recording every syllable and movement you make as you continue conversing with him. But whatever words are spilling out of him seem to be working and something hungry and possessive stirs in him when your face lights up as you board the train the next day, making a beeline towards where he stands as you cheerfully greet him.

Maybe it’s foolish of you to so easily trust and warm up to a complete stranger. But he’s tall, attractive, and interesting, which is more than you can say for most of the men you’ve met and your friends and family are always telling you to put yourself out there more. Is there really much of a difference between finding a random stranger on the countless dating apps you’ve installed versus connecting with one in person? You’d even argue that there’s something whimsically romantic about how the two of you met, even though you don’t know for sure if this is really going to lead to anything. But at the very least, your daily commute becomes more exciting.

You’re everything and more compared to what Matsukawa had imagined and if he thought he was infatuated with you before, he’s completely and utterly obsessed with you now. You’re all he can think of, all he can see in his mind’s eye, even hours after you’ve parted ways on your morning commute, even as he lays in bed in the middle of the night. And as his hand slips underneath the hem of his boxers, wrapping around his aching cock to his imaginations of what you’d look like writhing underneath him, how you’d sound moaning his name, he knows he needs to have you.

After all, as pretty as a meal can be, it’s ultimate purpose is to be devoured.

You giggle when the train shakes and you feel a long toned body shift into yours, squishing you against the wall you’re leaning against, sighing in bliss at how right, how good it feels to be in Matsukawa’s embrace even if it is just for a fleeting moment, a little accident all too common on jam packed trains. But your face heats when you continue feeling his warmth, when his body seems to press even further into you until you can feel the expanse of his body against yours, not even an inch of space left between you.

“Matsukawa-”

Your words are caught off by a gasp as Matsukawa buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, lips and tongue mouthing and licking the sensitive skin there. You’re confused, scared, and aroused, hands reaching up to clutch at the lapels of Matsukawa’s suit, unsure whether to hold him tight to you or push him away. And your humiliation only increases when a nearby elderly couple scowls at the two of you in disdain, clearly unamused by the scandalous gestures of what they believe to be a young couple in love.

Yet you can’t help how your heart beats faster, wondering if this is proof of Matsukawa’s attraction to you, wondering if your hidden feelings for him are returned. But this isn’t the time or place for that conversation and you fervently whisper in his ear, begging him to stop, telling him people are watching.

“Is that the only reason you want me to stop? Because people are watching?”

You grow flustered at the implied meaning of his words, shame filling you at how much you’re enjoying this, hating how your neck arches for more attention as he straightens up once more, his body hiding yours from view as he stands in front of you, still pinning you to the wall.

“Better be as still and quiet as you can, sweetheart.”

You don’t have time to register his words before your mouth opens in a pathetic whine as a calloused hand trails under the hem of your shirt, sliding across the stretch of your stomach, mapping your torso before finally shoving your bra above the swell of your breasts, kneading one of your mounds, tweaking and swirling around your hardening nipple. It feels so good and you almost succumb right then and there, lost in the predatory lustful gaze he pins you with.

But when the train makes its next stop, the conductor’s voice jars you from your trance and you clutch at Matsukawa’s forearm, silently pleading for him to stop with desperate eyes despite the way you quietly mewl when he just quirks an eyebrow and pinches your nipple in retaliation.

“We can’t- We shouldn’t-”

Your hand trembles, jaw going slack when he slides one thigh between your legs, digging his hard muscles into that already dripping hole only protected by the fabric of your pants.

“You’re not very convincing. How about we play a game? If you can tell me you don’t want this without moaning like a bitch in heat, I’ll stop.”

There’s no room for disagreement as he abruptly begins grinding his thigh into your aching cunt, flexing and relaxing his muscle in a pattern and rhythm you can’t keep up with. It takes every last bit of will power in you to not wantonly ride his leg and hump against him like the lewd slut he had just accused you of being.

“I don’t want-”

You cry out in agonized pleasure as his fingers still hovering near your breasts begin to roll your nipples between calloused tips, his thigh never losing its momentum. And under the dual points of attack, your resistance crumbles. Matsukawa’s eyes widen in awe as you bounce and roll your hips against his leg, hiding your face in his chest as you try to muffle the lewd sounds slipping past your lips in the fabric of his jacket.

You’re gorgeous like this, a needy, lustful mess. But as much as he loves to see you suffer so beautifully, there’s only so much time before your stop and he decides to have mercy on you, to reward you for being so honest, so good for him. Your face snaps up to stare at him with pupils blown wide as his hand reaches underneath the waistband of your pants and panties. He groans when his fingers are instantly soaked in your arousal, your panties sticky with your fluids and his digits slip inside of your tight wet heat with no resistance at all.

He wants nothing more than to push the pesky fabric out of the way and lay you bare for his viewing pleasure, to have easy access to thrust in and out of you. But he’ll save that for another day. Instead his fingers slip out of you, tips circling your swollen clit, rubbing your sensitive bundle of nerves as you resume humping his leg, body trembling, drool beginning to trickle from your lips as you frantically chase your end. And as the train stops once more, passengers trickling in and out, you silently scream, body convulsing as he brings you over the edge, pleasure washing over you and leaving you exhausted as you shiver and slump in his arms that are quick to embrace you and hold you steady as the train begins to move again.

You submissively let his fingers coated in your essence enter your mouth, obediently sucking and licking him clean, finding strange comfort in the action as you remain rested against him. But you keen in confusion, cheeks still hollowed as you mindlessly continue sucking while he guides one of your hands to the bulge in his pants.

But although Matsukawa is a man of few words, his desire is clear despite the silence and your face heats in embarrassment as he unbuttons his trousers, bringing your hand to the waistband of his boxers, dark eyes expectantly staring down at you. You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t. Not when you can literally hear the other passengers surrounding the two of you, only Matsukawa’s tall frame hiding your illicit activity. But your body has a mind of its own and you greedily slip under the fabric barrier, moaning around his fingers at how large, hot, and heavy he is in your hands.

You hate how badly you want to see it, to feel it inside you, splitting you apart. Your pussy clenches, leaking in interest once again despite having just found blissful release mere minutes ago as your hands curiously trail up and down the shaft, trying to memorize how every bit of it feels against your skin, trying to visualize what it looks like. But you whimper as Matsukawa finally pulls his fingers free from your mouth, squeezing your jaw and giving you a warning look.

“Don’t tease me, doll.”

Your fingers wrap around the length and it’s your turn to stare up at Matsukawa with eyes full of hunger and awe as you watch his Adam’s apple swallow, as you feel a pleased groan reverberate in his chest with every stroke of your hand. Up and down. Up and down. Your hands are slick with pre-cum and you know it’s just your imagination, but you swear you can hear the lewd wet sounds of his sticky essence coating his shaft with every movement of your palm against the velvety skin. You’re so mesmerized, so lost in the experience that you startle when something hot and thick spurts onto your hand, mixing with his pre-cum, making an even bigger mess of his boxers and you.

You stare stunned at the hand you pull out from between his legs, gazing at the white and transparent fluids that coat your flesh. But before you can even think about wiping it off or scavenging around for a spare napkin or paper in your bag, a large hand grabs your wrist and brings your stained fingers to your mouth. You try to resist him, the spell he had you under broken now that the haze of lust isn’t blinding you. But his grip tightens until you wince and finally relent, stomach churning in disgust and shame as you tentatively lick at the bitter liquid.

He doesn’t release you, not until every last drop is coating the inside of your mouth, his taste heavy in your mouth, seemingly in every crevice of your orifice, your hand completely clean and void of your sinful interaction.

You want to hate him. You want to wipe the smug satisfied look clean off his face. But as you readjust your disheveled clothing, you’re reminded of your own body’s betrayal, your own carnal desire and pleasure, by the uncomfortable mess in between your legs. And all you can do is silently stand there and pretend that nothing has happened as Matsukawa nonchalantly tucks himself in and checks his phone.

There’s an uncomfortable silence as you wait for him to acknowledge what has just happened, only to be disappointed as he doesn’t even spare you another glance, too observed in the glowing screen in his hand. You wonder if this was just a one time thing, if he had been stringing you along all this time for one quick public tryst. And you hate the way that thought makes your chest hurt, hate how much you dislike the idea of never seeing him again, never talking to him again, never feeling and tasting him again.

But as the train pulls into his stop, your eyes widen when his face hovers by your ear, lips grazing your lobe as his voice melts into your soul.

“Wear a dress or skirt tomorrow. No panties or bra.”

He laughs as surprise turns into an endearing scowl that barely hides the apparent relief in your eyes and he just casually waves farewell as you send him on his way with a tirade of angry words about his fucking audacity. But it’s all empty heat and he chuckles at the self-conscious embarrassment written all over your face when he sees you the next morning, a pretty dress fluttering around your knees.

There’s no preamble, no pretense of what’s about to happen and he smirks in appreciation at the unobstructed feeling of skin against skin as he slips his hand under your skirt, not an inch of fabric covering the treasure at the apex of your thighs.

#haikyuu smut #matsukawa smut #yandere matsukawa #yandere haikyuu #matsukawa x reader #haikyuu x reader #tw: yandere #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon

[goingmorry]

Hellooo I love your writing soooo much >>•<<

Could you please write headcanons of ASL sister introducing Smoker as her fiancé ? Thank you so much !

[One Piece Headcanons] ASL Brothers -> when you introduce Smoker as your fiancé

Characters: Ace, Sabo, Luffy, Smoker

Tags: female reader, overprotective brothers

Author's Note: Thank you for the cute request! I got carried away and added short scenarios for each brother's reaction and a little extra at the end. I hope you like it! 💖

PORTGAS D. ACE

Goes from 😯 to 😡 to 🤬

Ace.exe has stopped working.

He's the 2nd Division Commander of the esteemed Whitebeard Pirates; who in their right mind would think it would be a good idea for him — the son of the late Pirate King — to meet a Marine Vice-Admiral?

Cue war flashbacks of when Garp showered him, Luffy, and Sabo with his "fists of love" for sharing their childhood dreams of becoming pirates.

Goes through all seven stages of grief and complains to Sabo every single time.

Threatens Smoker every chance he gets. The Marine Vice-Admiral repays in kind when you're not around.

Doesn't warm up to the idea of you and Smoker as a couple except on your wedding day.

"Behave yourself," you whisper to your fiancé, soft hands tightly gripping his muscular bicep in warning.

"I'm on my best behavior. It's your brother who needs to behave," Smoker says bluntly, brown eyes observing the freckled pirate's reaction to you and your beau's interlocked arms.

Ace stares, and stares, and stares — at his little sister and the familiar white-haired man he encountered early on during his journey to Alabasta — dumbfounded at the scene before him.

"Fire Fist," the Marine Vice-Admiral calls out, breaking him from his reverie.

"You—" Ace yells, flames erupting from the tips of his fingers to rapidly engulf his entire first.

Before your fiancé can return your fiery brother's sudden display of aggression, you step in between their bodies, eyes alight with fury.

"Stop it!" you scold Ace, extending your pointer finger and thumb to pinch his ear in retaliation.

He frowns at you, but obliges, flames extinguishing from his curled fist. "We need to talk. Now."

Not waiting for your response, Ace saunters off toward his bedroom at the other end of the hallway, posture stiff and robotic. To anyone, outsider or not, it was evident from Ace's appearance and demeanor that the usually friendly pirate was clearly not in a good mood.

"Just wait here. I won't be long," you say to Smoker before dashing off in pursuit of your freckled brother.

When you close the door to his bedroom, Ace begins his tirade, arms crossed against his bare chest as he faces your more petite frame.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

You look at him in bewilderment but don't say a word, waiting for him to elaborate.

"Him! That—that big oaf! There are millions of men in this world! And it has to be him? I don't approve!" Ace doesn't stop himself from frantically gesturing at the closed door — the only piece of barrier, aside from him, of course — separating you from your fiancé.

You frown at Ace's insult, adopting a defensive stance. "Don't call him that! And I don't need your permission, you know. Why are you acting like this?"

"You're my little sister! Of course, I'm concerned!" Ace adjusts himself from the desk he was leaning on. "Do you know what he's done to Luffy?"

You shakily exhale at his accusatory tone. "I know! We've talked about this. He's promised to look the other way when it comes to our family."

"And you believe him?"

"Of course, I do! He hasn't given me any reason to doubt him."

"He's not exactly husband material," Ace interjects, to which you roll your eyes. At this point, it was apparent to you that your big brother was grasping at straws, finding reasons — however shallow they may be — to make you reconsider this marriage.

"He dresses better than you, that's for sure," you say childishly.

Ace's eyebrows furrow, taking great offense to your statement. "What's wrong with the way I dress?"

"Have you seen yourself? You're always strutting around like you own the place. Shirtless and all," you comment, scrunching up your nose in disgust. "Have some common decency at least."

"He's not wearing a shirt either!" Ace says indignantly.

"No, but he has a jacket—"

"That he leaves open all the time, which basically makes it useless," Ace argues, "Why bother if you're not even gonna wear it properly?"

"Argh, forget it. I don't want to talk about this anymore," you say, burying your face in your hands.

Ace takes the hint, feeling guilty as he walks over to your defeated form to rub circles on your back slowly.

A truce, for now.

- - - - - - - - - -

Sometime later, when you return from Ace's bedroom, you find your fiancé calmly sitting on the corner of the couch. Without a word, you plop down beside him and rest your head on the crook of his shoulder.

Smoker takes a deep drag of his cigars, observing your distraught appearance and the lack of a certain cowboy-hat-wearing pirate. "Well, that went well."

SABO

Goes from 😟 to 😩 to 😭

Dies a little bit on the inside.

His precious little sister finally finds love, and who's her betrothed? The infamous White Hunter himself.

He expected this behavior from Ace, but you?

Discreetly pulls you aside to express his disapproval.

Learns to cope and eventually warms up to your relationship with the Marine. How can he not when you look so happy?

De-escalates arguments between Ace and your lover every single time.

"Sabo!" You pull your big brother into an embrace which he reciprocates.

When the blond Revolutionary notices the white-haired man standing behind you, he stiffens, gloved hand reaching behind his back to clasp his metal pipe.

Noticing your older brother's sudden alertness, you nudge his side in reassurance. "This is the fiancé I've been telling you about."

Sabo quickly puts two and two together. All those conversations you've had with him, and not once did you mention that you were engaged to an officer of the Marines. And not just any Marine officer, you were engaged to the Commander of the notorious G-5 base.

In an effort to remain composed, Sabo forces a half-hearted smile — appearing more like a grimace really, but an action you appreciated nonetheless - and extends his right arm to your fiancé for a handshake.

"Nice to meet you."

Ignoring the daggers you were glaring at the side of his face, Smoker hesitantly grips the blond Revolutionary's hand. "Pleasure," he grunts out, letting out a puff of white smoke from his cigars.

For a moment, the two men clasp at each other's hand in a show of fake camaraderie.

Choosing to ignore the growing tension thick in the air, you clap your hands together in mock enthusiasm.

"Great! Let's meet the rest of the family, shall we?"

MONKEY D. LUFFY

Goes from 😁 to 😊 to 🥳

The only one who's okay with your relationship with Smoker.

He's survived having Garp, the Hero of the Marines, as his grandfather; he can certainly handle an additional Marine in the family.

Gets along with your fiancé the best, though Smoker himself denies this.

"Woah, what's Smokey doing here?" Luffy says in awe, looking back and forth between you and the Marine.

You tap your feet in nervousness, gesturing between Smoker and your youngest brother.

"Luffy, this is my fiancé. Smoker, this is my little brother."

"I know who Straw Hat Luffy is," Smoker says impatiently, barely glancing at the pirate standing a few feet in front of him.

"You haven't been formally introduced to each other, have you?" you say indignantly, hips cocked to one side as you stare at your fiancé's tepid behavior.

"In a normal setting, I mean," you clarify, "You chasing him and his crew does NOT count."

Smoker shrugs at your accusation, and you sigh.

Luffy laughs at your scolding, looking up at the Marine. "It's okay. I meant what I said in Alabasta. I don't hate you, y'know?"

You smile at your little brother's statement. You could always count on Luffy to be accepting of your partner, whoever they may be. Also, he wasn't the type to dwell on the past, preferring instead to live in the moment. And that moment was your engagement to the Marine Vice-Admiral, the same man who used to hunt Luffy and his crew throughout the Grand Line for being wanted criminals.

'Tsk' is all Smoker says to the straw hat pirate's proclamation, earning a disapproving pinch to his side from you.

"Be nice," you whisper harshly to your fiancé's ear.

The sound of your little brother's joyous laughter is enough for the normally serious Marine to let out a small smile.

BONUS BELOW LMAO

MONKEY D. GARP

Goes from 😌 to 🥰 to 🤗

T H R I L L E D that his grandson-in-law is a respectable Marine.

The epitome of Proud Father Figure™

Compares the ASL brothers to Smoker every chance he gets during family reunions.

"Y'hear that Luffy? Smoker just caught a band of no-good pirates terrorizing the local townsfolk." Luffy picks his nose in acknowledgment.

Garp points an accusatory finger at Ace. "You damn brat, why couldn't you listen to me and become a Marine like I told you to?"

Garp gives a disapproving glare to Sabo. "And you! Why'd you have to join the shady Revolutionaries and become a wanted criminal like my son?"

Garp proceeds to give the ASL brothers multiple rounds of his fists of love. Meanwhile, he smooches your forehead in happiness for finding a suitable husband.

You and Smoker live happily ever after. The end.

#one piece #smoker x reader #monkey d. luffy #portgas d. ace #sabo #asl brothers #monkey d. garp #one piece writing #one piece scenarios #one piece headcanons #one piece imagines #mywriting

[mochegato]

Even the Losers

Chapter 6

Chapter 1     Chapter 5

Marinette collapsed onto the barstool and immediately motioned to the bartender, ordering a drink before Adrien had even sat down. She downed the drink as soon as it came and motioned for another.  The bartender raised an eyebrow at her.  “Want me to just leave the bottle?”

“Yes,” Marinette answered gratefully with a bright smile.

“No,” Adrien answered over her.  “Just another drink for now and a water for me, please.” The bartender looked between the two of them, waiting for her response to his interruption.  Marinette pouted and slumped in her stool, but didn’t counter him so the bartender nodded and left to pour the drinks.

“Leaving the bottle would be easier,” she commented, slightly annoyed.

“And more dangerous,” he warned.  Marinette rolled her eyes and looked away.  It wasn’t that she disagreed.  She knew it was stupid.  She knew she shouldn’t drink until she blacked out.  She knew it wasn’t safe, especially in Gotham.  But honestly, she didn’t care.  The entire day had been a clusterfuck of dark thoughts and tears, after their meeting with M. Fox, and now she just wanted to forget… everything.  She wanted to forget her day.  She wanted to forget the last twenty odd years.  She wanted to forget her feelings.  She wanted to forget how to feel.  She wanted to forget how to think.

“You might want to try something else,” Adrien tried instead.  If self-preservation wasn’t going to get through to her, maybe he could use her self-destruction against her.  “If you get the bottle, you’re committed to that liquor.  If you just go by the glass, you can try different ones.”

Marinette looked at him from the corner of her eye, knowing exactly what he was doing but unable to fault his logic.  Instead she propped her elbows on the bar and buried her face in her hands.  She mumbled a thank you to the bartender when she heard him set her drink in front of her but groaned when she heard someone sit on the stool next to her.  There were plenty of open seats around the room, plenty of seats at the bar, if that’s where the person wanted to sit.  

The only reason for the person to sit so close was because they wanted to talk to her.  And while she would normally be polite and give the person a smile and maybe talk with them before turning them down, she was utterly, completely, and in all ways, not in the mood.  So, regardless of whether the person was there to hit on her or talk to her because she was a Wayne, she had no interest in any kind of a conversation.

She moved her hands just enough to clearly enunciate, “Not even remotely interested.  Move along, please.”

The man chuckled and leaned against the bar himself. “Good to hear it.  I'm pretty sure the Press would have a field day with that.”

Adrien scowled at the men who had taken the seat by them and wouldn’t take no for an answer.  “Hey, buddy, she said not interested.  Find someone else,” he growled threateningly.  

The man shook his head.  “I only have so many sisters and the others don’t drink. Well, not with me anyway.”  He motioned to the bartender.  “Actually, the only other sibling we have that can drink, besides Cass, is Dick and he is going to be absolutely insufferable for months over this, trying to make you feel welcome in the family.  So I’m avoiding him too.”

Marinette eased her head out of her hands to look at the man.  She immediately recognized him from the gala.  Jason Todd.  One of Bruce’s sons.  She narrowed her eyes at him.  What was he doing here?  How did he find her?  “You followed me here.”

Jason shook his head with a light chuckle.  He looked up as the bartender approached. “Hey Jay, Roy.  The usual?”

Jason nodded.  “Thanks, Jack.”  He waited for the bartender to retreat to pour the drinks before turning back to her. “If anything, you followed me here.”

Marinette scoffed and turned back to her drink.  “I was just looking for some place to get drunk and forget about the whole,” she motioned to him, “drama.”  She glared down at her purse.  “Lucky me.  I chose this bar.  Sorry for the accusation.”

Jason waved her off.  “No.  I get it. Paranoia is justified in this family.  Welcome to the family.  It doesn't get better.”

Marinette groaned and dropped her head into her hands again.  She motioned to the bartender as he brought Jason and Roy their drinks.  “What do you want?  Same?”

“I don't care.  Whatever you have and make it a double… please.  Is a triple a thing?”  Her eyes brightened at the idea.  Adrien motioned no behind her, his eyes pleading with the bartender.

Bartender nodded.  “Yes, ma'am.  Double it is.”

Adrien let out a relieved breath and turned to the boys.  “Hi.  I’m Adrien,” Adrien finally cut in after a few moments of awkward silence.

“Nice to meet you.  So you’re the one schtupping my sister.”  Jason reached out to shake his hand.

Marinette wrinkled her nose in confusion.  “Schtup?  What is schtup?”  She downed the last of her drink as she waited for them to respond.

“Screwing,” Roy answered.

Adrien choked on air and Marinette spit out the whiskey she had just drank.  Marinette glared at him and shot Jack an apologetic smile.  “Sorry about that.  This one and the next are on the asshole.”  The bartender looked to Jason with a laugh and nodded.

“It was just an observation,” Jason answered with a smirk.

“Don’t be an asshole,” Marinette grunted.

“That’s a tall order for Jason,” Roy grinned.

“He’s tall.  He can handle it,” Marinette snarked with a shrug.  She turned back to Jason.  “No.  No we are not stooping.”

“Schtupping,” Jason corrected.

“Stopping…” Marinette tried again.

“Sch…toooo…ping,” he corrected again, accentuating each sound for her.

Marinette blinked a few times at him.  “Screwing,” she finally finished with a decided nod.  Roy laughed hard.  “He’s my brother Adrien.  Adrien…”

“Her other brother, Jason.”  Jason finished for her.  Marinette narrowed her eyes at him but didn’t contradict him.  “And this is my partner, Roy,” Jason continued, motioning toward Roy who gave a short wave before taking another drink.

Marinette waved back at him.  She turned back to Jason.  “Partner… is that another word for screwing too?”  

Jason sputtered and narrowed his eyes at her, frustrated that he walked into that so easily, but Roy laughed loudly again.  “I like her.  New favorite sibling… don’t tell Cass… or Dick.”  He grinned charmingly at Marinette.  “But no.  Business partner.  Not currently schtupping anyone.”

Jason rounded on him and glared.  Roy looked back at him innocently.  “Yes?”

“No,” he said warningly.

“Are you another Wayne?” Marinette asked Roy.

“No?”  He stared at her for a few seconds before realization set in.  “No.  I hang out with them a lot.  Dick and I used to be on a team together so we were around each other constantly for a while there.  Our families used to be together a lot.  They feel like family sometimes.”  He grinned at her.  “But, no. Not in any way related to you.”

Marinette nodded and looked back at her drink.  At least that’s one person in Gotham her… M. Wayne hadn’t adopted after chucking her out.  Jason glared harder at Roy and punched his shoulder.  “Sister,” he hissed.

Roy grinned back.  “Yours, not mine.  We just established that.  Keep up.”

Jason narrowed his eyes even further before relaxing them as he turned back to Marinette.  “So, how are you handling… you know, everything?”

Marinette and Adrien both stared at him with deadpan expressions.  Marinette looked pointedly around the bar and her drink.  “Oh, you know… well.”  She kept eye contact with him as she downed the rest of her drink, wincing at the feeling. She looked down at her drink critically. “Why do I drink this stuff?  I hate it.”

“Maybe you should ease off then,” Adrien offered gently.

“No.  Fuck off. I want to get drunk,” she glowered back at him.  Roy chuckled and motioned to Jack for her.

Adrien sighed and raised his hands in defeat. “Okay.  Maybe something that tastes better then?”

Marinette cocked her head in consideration. “Okay.  Excuse me, M. bartender?  Can I get something that will get me very drunk very fast and taste better than this, please?”

Jack blinked at her a few times and looked over to Jason.  Roy laughed at her response while Jason shook his head.  “She’s had a rough day.  You got anything?”

Jack grunted and shook his head as he looked around. “I’ll look.”

“Thank you, M. bartender,” Marinette chirped at him. He waved her off without looking back at her.

“I think you came to the wrong bar if you’re looking for something other than the basics,” Roy mock whispered at her.

She leaned in closer, leaning past Jason to talk to Roy. “I came to get drunk and away from reporters and forget about all this,” she motioned toward Jason.  “I came to the wrong bar for more reasons than my liquor preference.”  

She suspiciously eyed the drink Jack put in front of her with a grunt, but plastered a smile on her face.  “Thank you.”  She tentatively took a sip and wrinkled her nose in disgust.  There was no way she was going to be able to drink this slowly.  The only solution was all at once.  She removed the tiny umbrella she was pretty sure he added to mock her and downed the drink like a shot.  She gasped at the horrific sensation.  Adrien just barely missed getting his water away from her before she grabbed it to get rid of the taste.

She handed the now empty glass back to Adrien and buried her head in her hands.  “Regretting your decision?” he asked with a smirk.  Served her right for stealing his water.

Marinette groaned into her hands and nodded.  After a few seconds she leaned back in her chair, eyes unfocused.  “I should never have come here.”

“Told you so,” Roy singsonged.  “Now there’s a different bar a few streets over you might like better…”  The rest of his sentence got cut off when Jason smacked his shoulder with the back of his hand.

Jason turned to Marinette with a sympathetic smile. “I often feel that way, but usually after a few more drinks.”

Marinette shook her head.  “I knew it was stupid to come.  I knew I shouldn’t have,” she groaned pitifully.  “I could feel something bad was going to happen, I just thought that was the part before we came not… not,” she motioned all around her. “God, I was so stupid.  I should have known I wouldn’t be able to just sneak in and out.”  She leaned her head on Adrien’s shoulder, fighting the tears.

“So why did you?” Jason asked as though he didn’t know.

She looked over at him for a second without raising her head from Adrien’s shoulder before closing her eyes again.  “Friend needed a job.  Was getting sc… schtuped by the hiring committee at WE and scouted by a few other places that I didn’t trust… I mean Lexcorp gets blown up less than Palmer but then he’d have to work for M. Luthor.  And, yeah, I don’t think so.  So that leaves your dad.”

“Our dad,” Jason corrected pointedly.

“So you thought you'd use your connections to get him a job and didn't think you would get noticed?” Roy asked not even bothering to hide his amusement at the apparent stupidity of the plan.  It wasn’t often he got to enjoy how laughably bad other people’s plans were.

“So,” she countered pointedly, looking directly at him, “I thought I’d use my charismatic personality to charm M. Fox into noticing him and let him know one of his scouts is poaching ideas.  You were never supposed to know I was here.”  She squeezed her eyes shut and let out another long sigh.

“But I was so stupid and now everyone knows and once they know...” she groaned and let her head drop onto the bar top with a resounding thud.  She popped her head up quickly and rubbed her head.  “Ewww.  It’s sticky. I don’t even want to know what caused that.”  She pulled some hand sanitizer out of her purse and wiped her forehead with it.

“You approached Lucius Fox with nothing more than charisma and got him to do what you asked?” Roy asked in amazement.

“And my brains, but…” she leaned closer to him as if passing on a secret, “I can be very charming when I want to be…”  She looked down at herself and frowned.  “When I’m not,” she motioned to herself, “you know. A mess.”

Roy smiled charmingly.  “I believe that.  Even when you aren’t trying.  And if this is you as a mess, normal you must blow people away.”

Marinette scoffed and turned back to her drink.  Jason waited until her attention was on her glass and shoved Roy hard enough to knock him off his chair.  Adrien raises an amused eyebrow at them before shaking his head and looking down.  Marinette looked over at the sound.  Her brow furrowed in concern.  Jason smiled casually and motioned to Roy.  “Too much to drink.”

Roy narrowed his eyes at him and rubbed his hip. “Overprotective much?” he grumbled quietly enough for Marinette not to hear.

Marinette turned back to her drink, noting it was awfully low.  She swirled the contents and nodded distractedly.  “Lucky.”

Roy bit his tongue as he climbed back onto the stool to stop from asking if she wants to be, because there's no way asking Jason’s new sister, in front of him, if she wants to get lucky, ends well for him.

“I’ll have whatever he had, please,” Marinette called out to the bartender, motioning toward Roy.

“So what now?” Jason asked.

“Now… fuck,” she whined.  She almost dropped her head on the bartop again but stopped herself just before actually making contact.  She eyed the surface suspiciously and whimpered instead.

Roy took a long drink to keep himself from talking because “Is that an invitation?” was not going to end well for him either and he was not looking to get a black eye out of tonight.  He frowned at his drink.  What was in his drink tonight?  He didn’t usually have this much trouble keeping his comments in check.

“I don’t know.  Now everything is…” she made a jumbled motion with her hands that almost caused her to fall out of her chair.  “I haven’t even…” she whimpered and eyed the bartop again before grabbing a napkin and setting it down in front of her.  She dropped her head onto the napkin with an audible thunk.

“You know your hair is still touching the counter,” Adrien mentioned with more amusement in his tone than Marinette appreciated.  Marinette groaned and sat back up.  She pulled her hair in front of her eyes to look for traces of gunk.  “She only found out about all this a few days ago and by then we were already on our way to the gala and in mission headspace so she hasn’t even had the chance to deal with it yet,” Adrien explained, keeping his eyes on Marinette.

“You didn’t know?” Roy asked incredulously.

“Nope,” Marinette responded popping the p and nodding in gratitude to the bartender for bringing her another drink and motioned for another.

“What the fuck?” Roy grunted.  “That’s messed up.  How did you find out?”

Marinette downed the entire glass.  “Heard my maman talking on the phone and distinctly heard ‘if you would like to actually meet your daughter…’ and she wasn’t speaking with my papa.  And I just…” she shrugged, staring at the empty glass like it might have an answer for her.  “… knew. I had a friend trace the call. And then I was here the next day and…”

“I think B was expecting more time to deal with it too,” Jason nodded along.

“He’s only had 20 years.  If that wasn’t enough, I may not live to when he finally has the time he needed,” Marinette groused.

“Twenty years,” Roy mused.  “Isn’t that when…” he trailed off and his eyes got wide realizing the timing of Dick’s adoption.

“I think he was planning on doing something soon,” Jason said louder than was necessary for their close proximity, leaning forward slightly to cover Roy.  “And being able to ease into it, slowly, making sure you… and Damian, weren’t too overwhelmed and you could move at your own pace,” Jason offered, fighting down the odd feeling defending Bruce left in his chest.

Marinette stared at him, swaying slightly in her seat. “Did you come here to drink or defend your dad?”

“Our dad,” he corrected.

“Because you seem to be doing a lot of one and not the other,” she continued as though he hadn’t said anything.  

Jason shrugged.  “Easy fix for that,” he said raising up his glass and finishing the contents.  “So… you staying around or what?”

Marinette whimpered again and eyed the bartop.  “I haven’t thought that through yet.  That wasn’t the plan, but then again getting found out wasn’t the plan.  Getting drunk tonight is now the plan.”  She looked over at the hoodie Roy had thrown over the back of his chair and back at the bartop.  “Can I…” she motioned toward the hoodie and reached for it at the same time.

“Oh, are you cold?  Yeah sure,” Roy almost fell out of his chair trying to get out of the way so he could hand the hoodie to her.  She gave him a weak smile and thanked him before spreading it out on the bartop and dropping her head audibly on it again.  She sighed almost happily as she let her head stay down on the bartop. Roy watched her in amused fascination and let out an amused huff.  “Not what I was expecting, but glad you’re getting use out of it, I guess…” he chortled.

“And do you always need to have a plan?” Jason asked curiously

Marinette and Adrien snorted in sync.  “Do you have a plan,” Marinette mocked, raising her head purely so she could take another drink, but decided to keep it up to educate them. Jason looked over to Roy to see if he was as confused as Jason was.  “I have lots of plans,” Marinette continued swinging her glass around to accentuate her words.  

“I have plans.  I have contingency plans.  I have backup plans.  I have plans for plans,” she started listing off on her fingers.  She looked at her hands accusingly as she ran out of fingers and almost dropped her drink.  She set down her drink with a frown and continued counting off her plans.

“I have plans to back up backup plans.  I have plans for contingencies that the contingency plans didn’t cover.  I have plans for when things go sideways.  I have plans for when things go to shit.  I have plans for when things go exactly to plan,” She leaned over to them. “I’ve never once gotten to use one of those.  I have life plans.  I have death plans.  I have future plans.”

“That’s a lot of plans,” Roy noted, fascination laced his voice. “Any of them turn out for you?”

“No!”  She threw her hands up in exasperation.  “And then I have to make a new plan on the fly.”

“Sounds familiar,” Jason grumbled.

“If all your plans get destroyed before you can complete them, why bother making them at all?” Roy asked.

Marinette brought the fingers together in front of her face and stared at it as though she were holding something precious.  “It’s all about the illusion.”

Roy snorted and nodded.  “She’ll fit in.”

Marinette narrowed her eyes at Roy.  “Is that an insult?”

Jason laughed and Adrien dropped his head into his hands.  “Jesus, Mari,” he groaned.

She scrunched her nose at him.  “What?  He said I’d fit well with M. Wayne.”

“I meant his kids,” Roy assured her.

“Oh…” Marinette answered sheepishly.  “Sorry.”

Roy waved her off.  “Nah. It’s okay.  I get it.  I meant you’re smart, sassy,” he eyed her with an amused glint in his eyes, “short…”

Marinette rounded on him, mouth agape in insult.  She quickly closed her mouth and glared at him.  “Not too short to kick your ass.”

Roy laughed and grinned at her.  “Violent.”

Marinette scrunched up her nose and turned back to her drink. “Not like I’m out there every night beating people up.”  She took a swig of her drink, missing the glance Jason and Roy sent each other before looking back at her for any indication she had meant something more by it. “Anymore…” she muttered under her breath just loud enough for Adrien’s sensitive ears to hear it.

“But,” Adrien cut in.  He motioned toward Jason.  “Short?”

“Yeah,” Roy granted, “Jason’s the exception to the short part.”

“Damian’s the exception to the sassy part,” Jason added.

“Who’s the exception to the smart part?” Marinette asked.

“Dick,” Jason and Roy answered at the same time.

“Who’s the exception to the violent part?” Adrien asked, concern edging into his voice, because that wasn’t exactly a comforting quality to be associated with Marinette’s new family.  

Jason scoffed at the idea of any of them not being violent.  “We were hoping it was going to be her,” he motioned toward Marinette.

“But, nope,” Roy finished, popping the p.  “I mean Duke isn’t particularly violent.  He can protect himself but, like, he’s chill about it.”  Roy eyed Marinette analytically.  “Maybe you can be the exception to the emotional car crash part,” he offered.

Marinette snorted inelegantly, took a swig of her drink, and looked back at him.  “That wasn’t on the list.”

Adrien leaned past her to look at the boys.  “She wouldn’t be the exception.  She’d be leading the pack.”

Marinette shoved his shoulder.  “Like you’re any better.”

Adrien raised his glass to her.  “Never said I was, Bug.”  He eyed his glass with contempt.  “You know, this would be a lot more effective if there was alcohol in here.”

Jason ordered another round for them and raised his glass to Marinette when the drinks came.  “Well, at least now I know why you were completely uninterested at the gala. Because I'm your brother.”

Marinette scowled slightly and hunched over her drink at the bar.  “Not my brother.”

Jason looked at her curiously, a frown forming on his lips before a hurt look flashed in his eyes.  Almost immediately, the hurt turned into annoyance.  He pressed his lips together hard.  “Right, another blood child.  Another kid that thinks only blood matters. So adoption doesn't count?”

Marinette furrowed her brow in confusion. She faced toward him and pointed toward herself.  “Given away and never contacted again doesn't count.  You he cared for.  You he wanted.  You're his son, but I am not his daughter.”

Jason’s eyes softened looking at her and he nodded in understanding.  Feeling unwanted, he understood.  Feeling abandoned, he understood.  Feeling like you weren’t considered good enough, he understood.  Feeling replaced, he understood.  And the fact that Bruce had made someone else feel that too, that it wasn’t just him, pissed Jason off more than he could express.  He didn’t even bother reacting when Roy punched his shoulder.  “Maybe not. But you're still my sister,” he assured her.  “I want you.”

Marinette scoffed.  “You don’t even know me.”  Adrien gently bumped her shoulder with his and gave her a gentle warning look.

“I know you better than he did,” Jason reminded her calmly.  “I have more to base my decision on than he did, and I know enough to know you’re my sister and nobody can change that.”  He gave her a devilish smile.  “You’re stuck with me now.  Fuck the old man.  He did this to himself.”

“And,” Roy interrupted excitedly.  He raised his drink for her to clink.  “Now you get to be an official member of the Shitty Dad Club.”

“Oh,” Adrien perked up.  “Can I be a member of that club?”

Roy eyed him suspiciously.  “What are your qualifications?”

“Neglect, severe emotional abuse, and he was a supervillain who tried to kill me regularly,” Adrien rattled off nonchalantly.

Roy blinked a few times.  He looked to Marinette for confirmation.  She nodded almost imperceptibly.  He turned back to Adrien and raised his drink.  “Right.  Welcome to the club.  We meet whenever there are drinks.  We should get you one.  You deserve it.”

Chapter 7

Tags:

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#maribat #bio!dad bruce #bio dad bruce wayne #roynette #Even the Losers #mbdbwm2021 #prompt - overprotection

[rivendellsstuff]

𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ━━━ 𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈 𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍

𝐀𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 | ❝In despair, he condemns his desires. Regretted, he know the consequences would be eternal and all he wanted was you. Your fiery personality, bright lips and soft skin.❞

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2310;

Genre: friends to lovers;

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: Mentions of canon-typical violence. The first chapter is set before the events of the first season. Friends with benefits — so, it'll be eventual smut (like, a lot!)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: English isn't my natives language, so if you spot a misspelled word or anything else, feel free to let me know.

━━━━ 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

Some men's whish the glory, others crawl like snakes by power and there is those who live like rats in the system. However, there is a exception — and his names is Levi Ackerman. Emerged from the underground, by dust and blood, forged as a weapon at an early age and steeped in pride, he raised as humanity's strongest soldier. He carries a doctrine, imbedded in his bones: he serves to humanity, the balance and the freedom of mankind. If there is a threat, he is the man who can fight against it, ranging from cruel people to evil titans.

He was born in cruel times and did his best to survive in the Underground. He found a glory he wasn't looking for. Something many wish to through their lives, but which, for him, was irrelevant. They all bleed, they all are stuck on the Walls and share the same ended chapter: the death. The final outcome is not defined by possessions, achievements or privileges in life. The only difference was that could get death any easier and painless. Levi was not a hypocrite: he would rather a peaceful death, lying on his bed, instead of being eaten by a titan.

He rather — and is all what it is. It wasn't like if he had any choice. The Ackerman's family were designed to protect the people and to fight. They were cursed with a power. Some people could say it is a miracle in dark times. Others would argue that mans were corrupted, cruel and too ambitious to deal with that awakened power. Well, Levi knows, that no everyone were worthy to possess such ability — Kenny, that asshole, was one of them.

However, there was kind strange situation. An only exception, an affliction that hung over through the heart and maddened his mind: you.

Desire wasn't a word enough to define how he feels close to you, a fearless female warrior, who destroy each barrier he has built over the years, causing delirium with the thought of you hurt. Levi knew he would have taken a checkmate just by desiring you.

But when it all starts? He couldn't say with sure. Maybe, when he, Farlan and Isabel were recruited by the Survey Corps, and you were the only one who spoke to them without undriveable mock and trial. You, besides Erwin, didn't seem to care where they came from. As deeply loyal as you were to your comrades, you didn't depend on your interactions with them for take a direction — you were content to follow your own passions and desires without input from anyone else.

Maybe it started when he saw you in battle or an a argue with a member of Military Police Regiment. Fear is not in yours's vocabulary when you are on the battlefield or when you are speaking her mind to others.

As their partnership grew, he'd find some similarities between you, but also many differences.

You, just like him, has little patience for any form of prose or riddles when you are communicating with others. You speak bluntly and without pretense, and expects others to do the same, prefers to get to the point and doesn’t seek to romanticize your expectations or intentions. You also are focused on the present issues and what role you can play in protecting the people that you love, what can prevent you from seeing the future results of your present actions and, unlike him, does result in some impulsive and risky — yet brave— actions.

All these little things over the years, made him fall in love with you, and Levi had ways to say it without saying "I love you".

Like that night.

He wasn't hiding his disgust face when handed you a cup full of that steaming, black liquid; the simply smelling coffee could make your stomach turn, but still, he prepares a cup for you every night.

As the second in the command, you have spent several evenings together conducting the next advances of the squadron. So, there you are, sitting next to him, eyes focused on the paper, turning the pen between your fingers and... biting your lower lip.

Occasionally, almost instinctively Levi raises his eyes to you. Being so close of you was it's a unique feeling. The smell of your perfume as stunning, and his throat closes around the words he would like to say. The tension that has been brought in was too dangerous for someone like him.

Fucking woman, fucking lips. Fuck you!

''Is there a problem?'', you inquired making eye contact for the first time that night. He couldn't say if there was perversion when you wet your own lips, but Levi felt his muscles become tense and contracted when you made it.

Levi responded with a faint whimper before observed: ''You shouldn't be drinking so much coffee at this time. You look like shit when don't get sleep''.

Lie. Fucking hell, you're always beautiful, but no way he'd say what he thought.

You rolled your eyes. ''It's you who did'', you put forth.

''I wasn't in the mood to put up with a brat attitude from you.''

''Brat? You know that we have about the same age, don't you?'', your gaze traveled from the figure sat in front of you to the window, confused as to why you would be embarrassed about his presence. You took in a breath before adding: ''Anyway, don't want sleep.''

There was a pause for a few seconds. You and he eyed each other.

''Why?'', he asks, authoritative one.

You shrugged and shook your head firmly. ''It doesn't matter.''

''If it doesn't matter, why would I have asked that?''

"Cause you're snooper”, you smirked.

''I'm not a snooper, brat."

He felt his heart begin to quicken when you carried the pen to your lips and start biting.

"Yes, you are a horrible snooper old man, bossy and with an astonishing mania for cleanliness."

"Old? You know we have about the same age”; he repeats. His eyes drifted back to your face, noticing your gaze had shifted again to the woods beyond the window. "And you're avoiding the question", he softly says (at least as softy as he could be), interrupting your rampant thoughts. "Are you alright?"

Levi watches in silence as you'd shoulders slump.

"I can't sleep. My mind has the scary capability of being evil, although I always thought that one day it'd get better", you're voice was low and flat, quiet and a little sad as you spoke to Levi, who seemed to know what are you exactly referred to and only nodded at your words. "I feel guilty. All the time."

Even in the darkness the room held, your eyes find his greys one like the starlight's.

''Are you afraid of your dreams, too?'', you asked, never expecting the humanity strongest soldier to have any fears.

'Yes'', he said quietly.

You nodded with hesitation, his words repainting in your head as you struggled to forma a sentence to answered.

Levi was used to such sadness, he had month's — no, years — to griever over the deaths of his mother and friends. Death was not uncommon thing in his life. His childhood who should be carefree, playing in the sun, was like a living nightmare, learning to fight in the darkness of Underground. Later, when he left the place to join the Survey Corps, he accepted to live in that never ending tragedy that people had sadly grown used to. Death was more common in that job than anything else, and he knows how badly it fuck with his mind.

“I’m beginning to think we’re a lot alike… you and me. We’re both strange cast, who’ve learned to fight when we’re backed into a corner'', you began weakly.

''Well, we’re backed into a corner now. Two fucking insomniacs”, he shook his head, thinking about your words. He didn't seem to like the way your voice sounded sadder. You raised your eyes to him again as he slowly spoke: ''You're not alone''

You answered a tiny smile onto your lips. Levi felt his cheeks burn and opposite glanced to your empty coffee cup, thinking that he'll able to always tolerate your strange addiction.

A few second later you both went back to work, and Levi was left with words stuck, temptation planted in the mind and a sure thing for him: the insomniac nights would become better by you.

【 ━━ 】

Inside Wall Sheena, guests were arriving, among them five members of the Scout Regiment - consisting mostly of commanders - walked through the gates, exuding self-confidence, bitter to participate in that boring and stupid meeting.

Little lies, little social sacrifices to feed what kept the Scout Regiment going: funding.

It was not necessary to be an expert in politics to see beyond the traditional veil of those events, to perceive the intentions of certain parliamentarians, very sadistic. Knowing it was part of your job to relate to these kinds of people annoyed you.

For one minute, you saw out of the corner of your eyes, the first on your command. The man of grey eyes used a black suit that fits perfectly. Be present in an event with so many politics didn't seem to his liking. Was kind of hard for all of you play nice one with all this tension in the air.

You've never felt the feeling of fear and tension like that inside the Walls before.

''Stop frowning before you break your face''

'It would be so sad, and you would cry for being depriving of that beautiful face''

''Oh, fuck yourself'', he says, angrily.

''If you watch''

You smirched at his expression as he looks up to you, after seeing your face, he turns away.

''Watch your words, brat''

''Or what, old man? What will you do to me?''

He looks back up at you.

''I could break you habit of drinking coffee, put you to clean all the HQ or even to help Hange with the experiments. The three together seems good, by the way''

You roll your eyes.

''You're mean''

'You're annoying'', he replied. ''And you know, if you keep rolling your eyes one day their going to get stuck like that''

''Are you trying to be funny?''

His little grin showed up making you roll eyes into a smile. He was terribly bossy and annoying, but you like that about him.

You took the glass of wine to your lips and raised your eyes to hit his. Levi hovered over you, making you felt that flame into your heart once more. Your eyes tailed down to Levi's lips then back to his eyes. You could feel your heart beating recklessly.

Fucking grey eyes, fucking black suit. Fuck you!

You felt a thumb on your cheeks, making them burn.

''You look...'', he started whispered and slightly caress your cheeks. Your body started to get hot under his soft touch. ''... beautiful. You look beautiful''

You were speechless.

You liked the sudden ardor, of the dangerous attraction, of folly and frivolous with provocative sins. Liked and thought how the taste of his lips would be: the indomitable, the irresistible, the powerful and sin.

He slowly dragged his hand down to my thorax wrapping his hands around it. A soft gasp escaped of your lips.

''You know... If you want dance, it'll not rude to ask'', you try to say. ''The song is awful, but I'm not a demanding partner''

''Only if you don’t step on my foot''

His prepotency make you smile.

''Don’t be a bad partner and there will be no mistakes'', you retorted, making him raised one of the eyebrows. ''That's how a men should behave next to a woman''

He took you in his arms, abruptly, making the bodies collide with intensity. You gasped, very close to Levi's ears, who felt the hairs stand on the back of his neck. Leading you through music, in no second was the look averted, in a battle for unknown control.

You and Levi explored a unique experience.

He stares burned deep into your body. His touch on your skin made your body tingle.

Fuck, control yourself. Don't get turned on by him!

He didn't say anything, just left you hold into him. You could feel your body burning around him. What was he doing to you? It felt like a spell. The effect of sin, of desire. You should get rid of that, all you needed least were distractions in the workplace and ruin the friendship, trust and partnership that you two took so long to build.

However, both keep looking to each other longer than friends should. Longer than friends should...

He could saw you lost inside your mind. Slowly, he pulled down his fingers, lazily touching the skin of your exposed back by the dress. Levi's vision was blinded by the desire his image represented. The surroundings smelled wine and fruits, intoxicating his sense. The ears, doomed to hear the political bullshit. His tact could burn by touching you. His taste? It was dangerous, because wanted to discover the taste of your lips and body.

But not now, not here.

You are his friend — the only who was left. In despair, he condemns his desires. Regretted, he knew the consequences would be eternal and all he wanted was you. Your fiery personality, bright lips and soft skin.

To hell all of that. When you both got back, he'll fucked you, every way that he can thinking off. He wants to pound into you, slammed into you and give the best night that you ever have. He wants to kiss every inch of your skin.

''Good girl'', he whispers next to your ears. ''But I'll show you how true men should behave next to a woman when we get back''

#aot x reader #attack on titan imagine #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman imagine #levi x you #levi smut #levi ackerman series #attack on titan fanfiction

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 8

Cult girl and Hannibal go through an exhaustive list of potential adoptive couples. 

@wisesandwichshark

Trigger warning: sexual harassment, christianity, discussion of pregnancy and family planning, adoption, murder and cannibalism 

Step two: find an adoptive family.

Some would say your list of expectations for potential adoptive parents was too extensive. Impossible for any human to reach. But it was really just the bare minimum.

Regardless of if they were two men, two women, one of each, or a few people, the parents had to be trustworthy. It wasn't easy to earn Hannibal's trust, but he could recognize those who had the capacity to right away. It was a little instinct you had dubbed 'friend or food'.

On paper, the apostolic pastor and his wife of 19 years seemed like the perfect candidates. The adoption agency tried to push them on you, as they had a great track record with adopting from them prior. Three boys, all of which were honors students.

Hannibal insisted on a formal introduction, during which you could conduct a proper, though surreptitious, interview. It was an invitation to dinner.

He invited the couple into his office, where a pot of tea and an interrogation was waiting for them. Then there was you. Barely-pregnant little [F/N], feeling entirely safe so long as your fiancé was beside you.

"You're doing the right thing, y'know." The woman, who introduced herself as Mrs. Landon, said upon meeting you.

"How do you mean?" You asked, already knowing the answer.

"All god's life is precious." She said, placing a hand on your not-even-remotely-showing-yet stomach. "You're walking in obedience to the lord by giving this child a shot at life."

Strike one: bringing up religion unprompted. Strike two: touching me without asking first.

You wanted to swat her hand away, but remembered that patience was a virtue. She and her husband took a seat across from you.

"Y'know," The man began, his mannerisms eerily similar to those of his wife. "I don't usually begin with the god talk, but I think a higher power had to have been involved in the conception of this- well, our child. I'd like to think the good lord brought us together today."

Strike three: already believes he is entitled to my child. You're outta here.

"Don't flatter the adoption agency like that, Jacob." Hannibal chuckled, placing his teacup on the side table.

"I'm serious, Dr. Lecter." Jacob interjected. "Faith and I really do believe that god put us on this earth to prepare his smallest soldiers for the spiritual war."

You shot Hannibal a side glance that said 'can we please just eat them now?'.

The answer was no. Hannibal liked to play with his food.

"And your adult children have all moved out?" He asked.

"That's right." Jacob nodded. "We have plenty of room in our five-bedroom house for the new little slugger to run around in."

"And if it's a girl!" The wife interrupted. "We have enough closet space for all the denim maxi-skirts money could buy."

Strike four: arbitrarily genders the behavior of a nine-week-old embryo.

The man then returned the teacup to the table, not bothering to use the saucer and instead leaving a nasty ring of condensation on the polished mahogany.

"Okay." Hannibal huffed, resignedly rising from his seat. He pulled two hypodermic needles from his back pocket and carefully, subtly stuck them onto the couples' necks. They couldn't even scream.

The tacos al pastor that followed (after a few days of marinating, of course) were exquisite.

The next week brought a new couple to your doorstep. Frank and Angela, they were named. Their claim to fame was that their oldest son played football for one of those big southern party schools. Either Auburn or Alabama. There was hardly a difference.

You sat for what felt like hours listening to the man speak in unintelligible football babble, waiting for him to take a breath. Surprisingly, it was the mom who got him to finally shut up.

"Frank, please." She said with more frustration than this one situation even remotely warranted. Either she had enough intuition to know she was being tested, or she’d spent the last decade putting up with this. Possibly both. "You're boring our hosts to death."

"What? No way! She loves it!" Frank replied, then turned to you. Not to Hannibal, just you. “Aren’t you having a great time, sweetheart?” 

Strike one: takes advantage of the female socialization to be passive and polite, allowing himself to take up the most space.

You shook your head. “I hate football.” 

His wife looked quite pleased with herself. 

“Angie, I just wanted her to know what good breeding her son is going to have.” He said, without a lick of irony or self-awareness. He eyed you up and down and licked his lips. “And it is mutual, I see.” 

The room went quiet as everyone tried to determine whether he was serious or if it was just a fucked-up joke. The longer the silence lingered, the more you realized he wasn’t kidding. Angela looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

“I don’t know what the agency told you, Mr. Wyatt,” Hannibal said, trying not to grit his teeth. “She isn’t a surrogate. She’s already pregnant.” 

Frank’s jaw hung dumbly open. “I thought you were looking for a sperm donor? I just-” 

“No.” You cut him off, raising your hand and covering your face. “I don’t want to know what you thought.” 

“Well, I would!” Angela interjected, righteous fury eclipsing what should have been crippling embarrassment. “What exactly did you think this was, Francis?” 

“The file said that he was over fifty, so I just assumed--” Frank rationalized, his voice far too loud for the room. “Y’know? That she wanted a baby that wouldn’t come out all funny-looking?” 

“You’re disgusting.” You blurted out. 

“Francis Howard Wyatt,” Angela scolded as if she were talking to her son. “You are forty-eight and the only increasing part of your body is your blood pressure. Why on Earth would any woman choose you over her smart, handsome doctor fiancé?”

This made Hannibal sit up a little straighter. He wanted Francis on the butcher’s block yesterday, but he momentarily considered letting Angela live. 

“They’re not married?” Frank whispered, or whatever the loud-aggressive-toxic-masculinity version of whispering was. He paused, as the dead hamster on the wheel powering his brain crept back to life. “That actually makes sense.” 

Angela loudly smacked her hand against her face. “Dr. Lecter, Ms. [L/N], I am so sorry.” 

“It’s quite alright, Mrs. Wyatt.” Hannibal stood up, readying the next batch of needles. “It just makes what I’m about to do easier.” 

It took quite a bit of restraint to not make their deaths hurt, but he made up for it when it came time to carve. He had fun running his fittingly small penis through a meat grinder. Not with any intent to cook it, though. Just because. 

Hannibal wanted to make Francis Wyatt into the least dignified meal imaginable. You quickly recalled going to a friend’s barbeque in Georgia and encountering a horrendously Southern delicacy known as Frito Pie. You proposed the idea to Hannibal, who, after reviling in abject horror at the notion of eating something out of a bag, agreed that it was the most fitting end. He could spare a few pounds of flesh to grind up and make into chili. 

The third week brought yet another couple. They seemed smart enough to realize your invitation wasn't the friendly olive branch the others had interpreted it as. Their healthy skepticism was refreshing, to say the least. Then, you met them: Max and Archie.

"You'll have to forgive my partner's paranoia." Max said upon entering the house. He tugged playfully at Archie's hand. "We watched Get Out recently, so an invitation to the suburbs sounded some alarms in his sleep-deprived brain."

"I love that movie." You chimed in. "It reminds me of my family."

"Oh no." Archie's eyes widened in only half-pretend fear. He shot an I-told-you-so look in his partner's direction. 

"But my favorite horror flick has to be Midsommar." You added. "My friends and I saw a midnight screening and we didn't sleep at all that night."

"But have you seen Hereditary?" Archie posited.

"Of course." You shrugged. "Aster is totally genius."

You made more than just polite conversation with the couple. Max, despite his young age, was a skilled data analyst and day trader. He attributed his success to the hard work of his immigrant parents. Archie was an environmental lawyer and land activist. He was also a bit of a thrill junkie, indulging in everything from scary movies to bungee jumping.

It didn't take long to realize that you wouldn't be eating them. They were far too pleasant of company to eat.

"So when is this baby planning to make its entrance?" Archie asked, gesturing to you. "You don’t look all that pregnant to me."

You put your hand over your slightly-protruding stomach. "Late August, I believe. If everything goes according to plan."

"You're not far along at all, aren’t you?" Max observed. "That gives us plenty of time to prove ourselves to you."

"Believe me." You put up your hand. "You're doing a great job so far."

“If you like horror stories, we might have to indulge you in the last two encounters we had.” Hannibal commented, leaning back comfortably in his chair. That was a good sign. “No blood was spilled, thank god. Would have ruined my carpets. But believe me when I tell you it came very close.” 

The couple laughed along. Archie leaned in like he was about to tell a life-shattering secret. “You wouldn’t believe the hoops we had to jump through to even have the chance to adopt. And I don’t want to say that it’s because we’re an interracial gay couple, but...” 

“Agencies aren’t exactly colorblind.” You finished, via his prompting. 

“She gets it.” Archie pointed to you. “See, Maxie? She agrees with me.” 

Max pushed his glasses up his nose. “I never said I disagreed.” 

You spent the rest of the afternoon waiting for the conversation to take a sharp left turn off a cliff, but it didn’t happen. They were wonderful company; polite, intelligent and articulate. Exactly the kind of people you’d want to see taking care of your child. 

You’d have to look for you next meal elsewhere. 

#hannibal #hannibal x reader #hannibal x you #hannibal lecter x you #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #cult girl #cult girl 2 #cult girl doctorate

[chanluster]

non ducor duco | {m}

oneshot | historical! au | gang! au | 15.2k words 

“The most notorious gang leader in Victorian London can gouge out the eyes of men, steal from the corrupted rich, and terrify an entire city, but cannot figure out a few complicated feelings with you.”

s u m m a r y >> the leader of the sons of seoul, the wanted criminal mastermind, christopher bang, has the courage to commit any deed save for confronting you, his most trusted accomplice, about his feelings. however, when opportunity arises, in the shape of an invitation to a grand seasonal ball, to take down his fated enemy, he takes you to the heart of a lavish estate, both of you unaware of actions that occur inside, and after the mission.

w a r n i n g s >> gonna be using chris instead of chan cause it’s set in 1860s london, chan is a dom of course, jisung and changbin are dumb and dumber, are also massive cockblockers, some cliché scenes cause i’m a sucker for them, sexual! tension!, gore, foul language, making out, dirty talk, aggressiveness, semi-public fingering, unprotected sex (stay safe homies!!), oral (f. receiving), multiple orgasms, chan has a thing for being called his korean name, whack spelling for ‘cum’ as ‘come’ cause technically that word didn’t exist in 1860s, there is a plot so there will be build up

a / n > > so i went way over the 10k originally planned lmfaoooo but i hope y’all enjoy this oneshot! i worked my ass off on it and hopefully y’all can appreciate gang leader chan in 1860s london cause honestly i’m a 100% whore for that concept

back to masterlist

IT WAS A UNIVERSAL LAW THAT ONE MUST NEVER FUCK WITH CHRISTOPHER BANG. EVER.

Whatever charge you may have against him, it must be withdrawn. Whatever he had done to you — robbed you, murdered your son, destroyed your entire existence — it did not matter. There were always limits, and trying to challenge this specific criminal would only result in your undoing.

It seemed the target, cornered before you and the very man himself, did not fully understand this order.

Chris Bang, in all his midnight suited glory, took a step towards the cowering man, the ends of his longcoat trailing him in the air. His gloved hands locked behind his back, a grave curve of his lips as he addressed his next victim. “Mr. Shaw, we know you have the documents.”

This said Mr Shaw hastily shook his head, raising his hands in immediate surrender. “Please, Mr. Bang,” he whimpered. “I have no inkling of what you speak of!”

“Don’t you dare lie!” You interjected, sliding out your knife, pointing it towards him. “We received reports of you. Don’t you dare forget the monthly checks we’ve sent for its safekeeping!”

“I was taking care of it, Miss!” He backed further, until the wall of his office stopped his escape. “They came to the office though.”

“Who did?!” You demanded, but the way Chris’s hand fisted in irritancy answered your question.

The Mayor had taken their shares. Once again, the tyrant had robbed them off their fortune. 

“Mr. Shaw,” the man beside you started. The raw, dark matter in his voice had the owner’s eyes widening in pure fear. “Who was it specifically?”

“A really large man, about seven foot for sure…God, he had cuts all over his face, slight stubble,” he answered, knees slightly shaking. “Please, Mr. Bang, I have a family, children who have not grown—”

“Why is it that whenever man is at his weakest he mentions his loved ones?” A few stray locks escaped from Chris’ raked hair, caressing the ragged scar from his brow down to his cheek. “Why do you think that I’ll suddenly take pity because you have others who will mourn your existence?”

These questions had the man collapsing, leaning completely against the wall for support. You stole a glance at Chris, wondering if he was now capable of extracting the very souls from men. “Do not keep toying with me, Shaw,” he warned, leaning in slightly. “I know you have information.”

A soft, helpless whine escaped from the owner of the building. “Then-they'll kill me,” he mumbled, looking up at the criminal with desperation. It was a shame that never worked on a man with no sympathy.

“I can kill you too,” Chris countered, and in a flash a sleek, pocket knife appeared in his gloved hand, and hovered it right under Shaw’s chin. “So how about you tell me what you know, and I can prolong your imminent end, hmm? Does that seem fair enough?”

You almost felt sorry for the man. “H-his men…” tears formed in his eyes. “His men kept calling him Carter.”

“Brilliant,” you muttered. ‘Scar’ Carter, the Mayor’s link to the crime world, the dirty dealings of London. Carter, the lapdog of the socialites. The most irritating, disgusting son of a bitch you had ever encountered.

“I see.” The knife stayed, caressing the manager’s skin. “Now I know they’re to sell the documents. The bastard is greedy.

“Question is, Shaw, where is the transaction going to take place?”

Dear God, the man looked as if he was about to piss his trousers. “The ball.” He tried to gulp, but felt the curve of the blade. “The Mayor’s brother is holding a masquerade ball in a few days, and Carter already had a client. They’re going to do the dealing there, I swear on my children!”

A harsh scoff emitted from the criminal. “You better hope for the sake of your sons that you aren’t lying.” 

“Did you get the invitations?” You asked, eyes darting around the dirtied room, the messy desks and chairs lopsided from your searching. 

“Yes, yes!” He pointed to a set of drawers. “There are two in there!”

You walked towards the destination, opening the drawers and sure enough, finding the gold-edged enveloped, addressed to Shaw and his wife. “Are your names inside too?”

“No, just the envelope, but that is not important! I promise!”

You pocketed the invitations inside your coat pocket, joining your leader’s side again. Chris, after a minute of heart-wrenching silence, stood up, freeing Shaw’s neck from the knife, sliding it within his belt.

“That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” His eyes were still upon the man when he said, “Let us return.”

The both of you were ready to leave when you heard Shaw’s sudden protests.

“The Sons of Seoul, everybody!” He declared, almost hysterically. “Coming in, fucking everything up, and leaving as if nothing had ever happened!”

Chris paused in his tracks, a quiet stillness passing over his whole figure. 

“What are you going to do now, Mr. Bang?” He hissed, slowly sliding up. “Are you going to infiltrate the biggest ball of the season? Create a bloodbath on the dance floor? It’s what you love to do so ardently, no?”

You heard the harsh spit smack on the office floor. “Stop meddling with the business of the British socialites. Go back to the gutter you crawled out of.” The next words overflowed with hatred. “Go back to where you really came from, you slit-eyed prick.”

Your eyes flashed in shock, swerving around to see the raging expression on Shaw’s beady little face. Fisting your hands, you were ready to knock him out when you felt the man beside you move.

Chris whirled around, eyes promising a horrifying future as he pounced upon the manager.

A yelp was heard as Chris’ fingers dug at the corner of Shaw's eyes, and relished the cries of terror as with a roar of his own, he squeezed with his thumb and forefinger, swelling the balls of vision from their sockets. With a loud pop! the two eyes tore from their origins, gooey residue trailing down his face as Christopher Bang palmed the two organs in his hands.

He observed his victim bellowing in pain as he fell to his knees, hands covering his bloodied sockets. A ghostly smirk accompanied his lips. "Better slit-eyes than none at all."

You had to suppress the severe shivers that threatened to break your stance. 

Shaw broke the universal law. His undoing was inevitable.

He flung the eyes upon the owner, and turned on his heel, eerily cool as he walked out of the office, blood and goo still on his black gloves. Not a hair ruffled upon his pretty head. 

You spared a look at the victim, crying out in infinite pain, hands on his sockets still. “Do not fuck with Christopher Bang,” was all you said, before following the devil out of the building.

The afternoon London heat hit you as you exited the offices, Chris waiting as he examined the filthy streets surrounding you. People of all classes strolled by, beggars on the street asking for two-pence, children selling newspapers down the corners, and carriages riding away on the wide roads. The man still did not clean his gloves from the mess, and you pointed this out as you arrived at his side.

“It does not bother me,” he waved you off, but you brought out your leather skin.

“Bring your hands out,” you ordered. 

Chris scowled. “I said I’m alright,___.” He began walking forwards, towards your humble abode, not far away from your starting point. “Besides, whoever strolls past us, they’ll second guess their evil intentions against us.” You glanced over the strange looking fellows, scattered across the roads. “Shows I am not afraid to get my hands dirty.”

“Whatever,” you mumbled. “Dirty pig.”

You felt daggers glaring into you. “What did you say?”

“You heard me,” you said, turning a corner, already catching sight of the docks. “I expect this behaviour from Jisung. Perhaps even Changbin, but not from you.”

“Enough with this,” the man ordered, irritancy clear in his voice. Grumbling, you walked beside him in silence, the Thames entering your vision. You wished it would have radiated a rich, clear blue body of water, but from the stench which even reached your nose, it would be impossible. The river, a dump for the sewers, the rubbish disposed daily, was a toxic mass of water, and the cause of thousands dying from drinking its contents. When you first joined the Sons you nearly drank from the river, being saved only by Chris’ rough hand slapping the cup away. You remembered you received a harsh scolding from him that day, immediately providing you with clean water after to quench your thirst. 

A small smile curved onto your lips at the memory.

“Hand it over.”

You perked your head up to see his filthy, gloved hands out. “What is it?” You asked. 

“The water.”An irritated sigh escaped him. “I’ll clean the bloody gloves.” 

Your smile grew as you handed him the leather skin. “But only because I don’t ever want to be associated with Jisung and Changbin,” he added, and you only laughed, watching the man rub the mess off his attire as you both arrived at the docks.

The first sounds heard were not of the boats bellowing at port, nor the waves lapping in underneath the stilts. 

No, all you were welcomed with was a string of curses, spat by Seo Changbin.

“You fucking bastard, how dare you—”

“Here we go again,” you caught Chris muttering, who quickened his pace, thundering to where the two of his sidemen fought, caught in a scrap.

Han Jisung’s whines were carried through the river air, burning into your eardrums. “Bin, no, I said I’m sorry—!”

When you caught up to Chris, he opened his mouth, exasperation clear in his voice. “Boys!” He exclaimed.

Immediately the fighting ceased. The boys addressed, Changbin atop Jisung, ready to throw the final punch, turned back to see his leader scowling. Jisung let out a yelp, throwing the former from him and scrambling to his feet. Changbin followed suit, a little more slowly after rubbing his side in agony.

“Why the fuck,” Chris started, pointer finger darting between his two men, “Are you both fighting again?”

Changbin, fixing his ruined locks with his hand, shot his best friend a glare. “He took my fucking scones again.” He groaned, much too loud. “God, I specifically stored them in a place where no one would find them, but this greedy pig still managed to snuff them out!”

Jisung, a slender and more comical figure, crossed his arms, raising his chin in stubbornness. “I did not see a bloody name on them! Tell me Bin,” he matched his opponent’s stare. “Did you write down your name with blood-red ink across the scones? Because I certainly did not see the words Seo Changbin scrawled on the surface!”

“Argh!” The elder of the two turned his raging gaze towards the leader, who was watching his subordinates with slight distaste. “Chris, permission to cut off his tongue for being the bane of my existence?!”

Chris only stepped past them, heading for the big wooden table situated near the gang’s warehouse. The sounds of ships sailing in the dirty waters thrummed to the port, shouting heard all around over new, imported goods. “Another time, Changbin,” he only said, bringing out a chair and sitting down, propping an ankle over a knee. “I have encountered enough organ slicing for the day.”

Jisung’s face twisted in awed curiosity, settling himself down beside Chris. “Without me?” he let out a disappointed whine, turning to you. “I trusted you, at least!”

“I was surprised myself, Ji,” you argued, raising a hand towards the aloof man as you sat opposite your friend. “I didn’t know Chris gouged out Shaw’s eyes until they were in his hand!”

“You truly are a selfish man,” Changbin complained, plopping himself on the last seat. “Alway keeping the fun for yourself and ____.”

You did not really know why your face flushed a little at his charge, but you made sure to whack Changbin in the gut, earning a pained groan from the boy.

Chris locked his hands upon the table. “Well, gentlemen, then it is time for you to join in on the entertainment.”

The two boys exchanged confused glances. On cue, you brought out the pair of invitations within your coat pocket, tossing them to the table. “The Mayor’s brother is holding a ball,” you explained, rolling your eyes at the boys tearing open the envelopes, yanking out the oblong, cartridge paper, details inked with a precise hand. “Since it does not have names, anyone can enter the estate.”

Jisung let out an excited yell, grabbing onto Changbin’s arm. “Binnie, we can actually have some fun!”

“Not so fast, boys,” Chris said, tightening his gloves. “The invitations are not yours.”

Changbin’s face immediately fell. “Are you fucking kidding me—”

The elder held out a finger, silencing the complaints, but not the quiet grumbling of his members. “As I was saying,” he continued, hands interlocking once more, “____ and I will use the invitations to get inside, with the two of you as our bodyguards.”

“Marvellous!” Jisung exclaimed, sarcasm practically dripping on his words. “Absolutely fan-fucking-tastic!”

“Jisung,” Chris warned, “How about you clean the shit off the docks instead?”

“Chan,” you murmured, causing him to glance at you. His sour expression almost softened at the word, the name which only few have ever said to him. You pondered at the time the two boys, sat to your right, tried teasing him with this name, and nearly earned an ass-beating. You, on the other hand, rather liked the way the name sounded on your tongue. 

Perhaps, you wished dearly, he liked the way it sounded on your tongue too.

The man, after a pause, averted his eyes from you, focusing them on his comrades. “You both can still enjoy the festivities, but you have to keep a low profile, because while ____ and I are socialising and distracting the guests, you both need to find Carter.”

“Is he at the party too?” Changbin propped his elbows on the table. “Lord above, I’ve been wanting to kick his arse for a while.”

“So you both just frivol away, then?” Jisung whined. “I want to drink and dance!”

“And you both will,” Chris persisted. “We all will keep a lookout for Carter and his dealings, and if any of us find him first, you report to me. At my signal, you and Changbin will break through their trade. I will be behind you as long as I slip away without anyone discovering our motives.”

You look to your leader. “There’s another problem.”

The three all turned to you. “If we are to go to the most lavish ball of the season, we certainly need to dress for it.” Suddenly, you sounded like a little girl when you pointed out, “I do not have a gown to wear for the evening.”

An eyebrow raised upon Chan’s face, while Changbin and Jisung snickered, puckering their lips. “Aww, poor little ____ has no lace to woo the rich men!”

You made to slap the pair’s arms and narrowly missed, glaring. “As if you animals have any decent attire to wear for the ball! When was the last time you wore a proper tailcoat?”

That was enough for their teasing to cease, but Changbin was adamant. “Don’t throw me in with Jisung! He doesn't even bother to shower!”

“Oi, you bastard!”

The pair were ready to fight once more when Chris cleared his throat.

“You’re right,____.”

A glance at the man who said it. “I have only seen you in stealth gear and rags, the first time I met you.” He leaned back in his creaking chair. “Perhaps it is time to flower you up a little.”

Jisung and Changbin were about to chuckle once again when you shot them a dirty look.

“I will order evening attire tomorrow,” Chris decided. “They will arrive on the day of the ball, which is adequate enough timing. 

“Now,” he declared, standing. “Are we all aware of what we have to do?”

The two boys turned sheepishly to you, who sighed and addressed the leader. “You and I attend the ball with these two fools as our bodyguards—”

“Hey!”

“____!”

“We maintain a believable facade and enjoy ourselves while also looking out for Carter and the documents. Once we find out where he is, Changbin and Jisung take him away, and we slip out of the party unnoticed.”

Chris, after a pause, nodded, a ghost of a smile upon his lips. “Good girl.”

And just like that, he left the table, your eyes a little wide and heart a little raced. 

When Chris retreated into the warehouse, the two boys turned their malicious gazes towards you, smirking much too wide for your liking.

“Do not,” you snapped, cheeks burning deeper, earning a smattering of laughter from the bastards.

“Whatever you say, good girl,” Changbin simpered, Jisung repeating the damned endearment until you hastily stood from your chair.

You rewarded them both with your middle finger before storming back into another warehouse, Chris’ words still engraved in your mind.

Just as Christopher Bang had predicted, the new attire arrived on the day of the ball. 

More planning had been explained, more additions to the grand scheme of the evening which was mere hours away. The gang was ready, but you can never be perfectly anticipated for any ideas gone amiss.

You even taught Jisung and Changbin to dance, ranging from the Polka to the Viennese Waltz, which was popular amongst high society in the growing years of Queen Victoria’s reign. They were terrible at the start, both of them always falling on each other, but with hard effort they learned quickly, almost perfecting the art of leading your partner on the ballroom floor.

You had not bothered asking the other if he wished to learn. There was something about him which made you think that he could do anything. Not once had he ever doubted your theory.

It was as if there was nothing in the world he could not know like the back of his gloved hand.

Thoughts like these were what filled you with such awe for him. Such deep-rooted pride that you worked under this man. Those thoughts did, however, curve into darker corners — when his midnight-lined eyes and raven figure haunted you in restless nights. 

You aggressively shook your head, swinging your legs over the dock. Sitting upon the wood, you watched the sun descend slowly, the stark yellows and whites of the sky beginning to darken. Ships docked and stayed, men with their filthy language and filthier intentions flocked outside, and strange women with too-tight corsets and lips too rosey, smirking at the newcomers, carrying out their own ways of living.

Sometimes, you’d watch this run-down life move on in this exact same spot, thanking the lucky stars for not being one of the boys with the weights on their backs, nor the girls with the untied top corsets. You thanked the same man, who brought you out of that hell, giving you the chance to fight all this wrong embedded in London. 

You also thanked him, especially that day, for calling you that endearment. 

God. The man was a criminal, yet you were the one being imprisoned. 

“____!”

You turned, heaving to your feet when you see Jisung running to you, packages in his hands. “Your gown’s inside!” He exclaimed, gummy smile lighting up his entire face. 

Throwing you the box, you caught it just before it flew into the Thames, shooting the boy a wary glare. “Careful,” you said, looking over the silk ribbon tied into a perfect bow upon the middle. Although there were greater happinesses in life, small ones such as new dresses had you in near giggles.

“I’ve got my very own tailcoat now,” Jisung yelled, ripping open the packaging, about to whip out his new clothing when you waved him to stop.

“Do it inside, Ji, or you’ll ruin your outfit!”

“Trust him to fuck up a perfectly new suit before trying it on,” Changbin’s voice drawled through the dock, who held a box of his own. “Also, the boss is saying to quit dallying and start dressing!”

You obliged, holding onto your box tenderly as you entered a little building beside the main warehouse, consisting of everyone’s rooms and privies. Your eyes glanced to Chris’ bedroom door before pushing open the door to yours, stepping inside to the small, yet decorated space, filled with a board of knives and bows displayed upon one wall and an erratic strokes of paint brushed along the textured surfaces, courtesy of Jisung and Changbin’s lack of motivation to finish your room. An undone bed was tucked into the corner, and a large mirror stood on its curled railing in the other corner, revealing yourself, hands underneath the package.

The sun fell further, sky being painted with dark oranges and purple and pinks, staining your bedroom the colours of soft autumn as you put your package on the bed, untying the ribbon and unboxing the whole treat. 

The first glance of the dress had you smiling in pure incitement.

You brought the dress out of its box, letting it trail free right down to your toes, holding it to arm’s length to examine the details : it was a mysterious, dark red, a colour which instantly attracted attention within the golds of the ballroom. The neck line was low, dipping just enough to tempt until it swelled over for the openings for the arms, black ruffles on the fabric to accentuate off shoulders. The intricate, midnight detail was stitched to perfection, creating a network of swirls upon the bodice before flaring out into the wider skirts. Dear God, you had never seen such an exquisite dress on any noble lady in this damned city.

Your smile grew a little wider. Christopher Bang, once again, has not disappointed. 

You turned it on it’s back, mouth parting in surprise at the silk lacing, undone and trailing down the dress, waiting to be tied and admired. Realising that we’re you to wear this, the entire ball would see your back half-exposed. Even the man you’re to be escorted with.

The thought alone made your insides sing. 

Chris had ordered this dress. He knew what he was acquiring for you, what he asked you to dare. 

Well, you were happy to oblige. Something within you wished to see his eyes blaze at you in the gown.

Closing the curtains of your room, you quickly lit up a metallic lamp, orange light leaking onto your dresser and walls.  Setting the source upon a stool, you began shedding your coat, tossing it on the bed before going to the dresser.

You spent about ten minutes on your hair, lifting locks upward and curling them into a messy bun. You brought out clips of pearls, attaching them at the back of your hair, letting the few stray curls bounce along your ears and neck.

After finishing your hair you began shedding your clothing, excitement rushing in your gut at the thought of wearing the ballgown. When you were adorned in nothing but your underthings, you grabbed onto the arms of the new dress, entering one leg into the opening before sliding the other. You raised the gown, fitting the bodice upon yourself and the short sleeves cuffing just under your shoulders. 

Looking over your shoulder at the back, it was bare before the mirror, saving your rear only with a small dip which was edged with more black lace. The laces for tightening the back still hung uselessly, begging to be entangled with their partners.

And you tried to oblige. You truly did, straining your hands behind your back and trying your hardest to tie the laces with the opposites, of creating a pattern adequate enough for the ball and announce your preparation. Unfortunately for you, your fingers refused to assist you that moment in the evening. 

Letting out an irritated sigh, you called for your friends.

“Jisung!” you shouted, hands endeavouring still. “Changbin!”

Your back still to the door, you waited for the two fools to arrive, but no one came. Again, you called their names, but to no avail, only silence answering you.

“I swear to the Lord,” you muttered, arms now starting to hurt from the stretching. You were about to bring the warehouse down with your roar when you heard the door quietly creak open, the sound of boots emitting against the floor. 

“Ah, finally,” you began as you turned around, hands clutching the bodice of the dress, ready to be irritated by your comrades when all words abandoned your tongue.

There, standing by the door, in all his midnight-tainted glory, was Chris Bang.

You hated how your eyes widened at the sight of him. 

The man always took care of his appearance, but that evening he had truly outdone himself - His infamous woollen longcoat was hung over his arm, exposing his black tailcoat, shining slightly in the flickering lamp light. His waistcoat underneath fit snug, and his white cravat tie peaked just above the lapels, caressing his Adam’s apple. His raven locks were slicked back, a few stray flyaways drooping over his forehead. The gloves were worn still, skin never exposed.

You caught his eyes flicker, something within stirring at seeing you, holding onto your dress in case it fell to the floor. The prolonging silence was shattered when you forced yourself to speak.

“Chris,” you said, because his name was the first thing, the only thing you could comprehend.

He, too, inhaled, slowly. “Jisung and Changbin...they’re outside, so they could not hear.”

“Oh.” 

Another round of silence. God, you wished you could just say something to him, anything which wasn’t a single syllable—

“____.”

You snapped into focus. “Yes?”

“Why did you call them?”

Blinking, you stumbled, “I, I just needed help with…” your hand gestured to your back. “...with the laces.”

There was an indecipherable undertone in his next words. “You could have called me.”

“You’re here now.”

Again. The world-heavy pause upon the both of you. 

A few more seconds ticked by when Chris set his coat upon the dresser chair. His eyes never left yours.

“Turn around.”

You dragged your gaze away from his as you complied, baring your back before him, laces dangling. His footsteps sounded from behind you, and his presence was felt, large and magnetic.

Leather sliding from skin, you sensed his eyes on you, taking in your illuminated skin. You had the greatest urge to shiver, but suppressed it, waiting for his next move.

A small breath hitched in your throat when Chris grabbed onto the first pair of laces and tugged them back, pulling you to him. 

Almost too conveniently, your rear backed against his crotch, and a minute noise escaped you before putting some distance between you two again. You instantly regretted the action, already missing the mere caress of what lay underneath his trousers.

“Stop fidgeting,____,” he ordered, and you immediately stilled, the tug still adamant at your back. Almost disgraceful how quickly you listened to him.

Slowly, he tied the first bow, right to the small of your back. When he started on the second, though, the first touch of his fingers against your back threw you off guard.

You should have expected this. You should have known from the start of his task that his fingers would graze your skin but each caress was like a lick of fire, threatening to singe the skin. Your breath caught in your throat, each time Chris touched you.

Those damned fingers skirted upwards, tying up the laces with such delicacy it nearly softened your stance, if only you didn’t notice his growing warmth. You realised with no small amount of pleasure that he, too, was possibly flustered.

Christopher Bang. Flustered over a girl.

You almost gasped when his hands brought a few stray curls over your shoulder, the dip of your neck exposed as he began the final bow of your gown. The process was excruciatingly slow, each little caress enough for you to turn around and—

And what?

How you desperately wanted to find out. 

Sensing the ribbon curling upon your neck, you understood. 

“It is done,” he whispered, and you shifted at the sigh which kissed your skin. God, he was so close, you were scared that if you turned around his lips—

You did not need to worry when you felt strong hands grip your shoulders, whirling you around in a sudden fashion. Your eyes widened at the close proximity of his face, his beautiful fucking face, and the warm, slender hands on your naked shoulders.

“Chan,” you let yourself say, and you swore the criminal’s eyes darkened. His grip on you tightened.

Perhaps he would have closed the distance, saved you from desperation when someone knocked on the goddamn door.

“___?!”

“Hurry up, the carriage is waiting!”

“Women, honestly—!”

You yelped at the sound of your friends bellowing behind the door. Even Chris looked a little surprised, a slight tick in his jaw as the noise grew louder.

Grabbing onto your skirts, you thundered towards the door, furrowing your brows as you twisted the knob, opening to see the same two idiots, shooting you irritated glares. 

“Is Miss Fancy-Shmancy finally ready?” Changbin drawled, propping a hand upon his hip, tails of his coat dangling behind him.

“Madame certainly took her time,” Jisung went on, sauntering into your bedroom without a care. “Might as well not attend the ball at all—”

His incessant rambling was instantly ceased when he saw Chris standing before you, putting on his gloves. His face was impassive as ever, save for the jaw still tightened.

“Oh, Chris,” he said, and started backing away to the door. “The carriage is outside.”

“Let us go, then,” he only replied as he grabbed his longcoat, strolling out of your bedroom, leaving your skin tingling and heart confused.

Changbin watched Chris exit the building, turning to you with a raised brow. “What was the Mr. Thorns-up-his-arse doing in your room?”

You scoffed at the nickname, picking up the invitations from the dresser. “He was just helping me.”

Jisung’s lips curved into a smirk. “Helping you…?”

“Stop it!” You demanded, but both of the boys could see the blush on your cheeks, even from the dim lamp light. 

“Come on, now,____,” Changbin said, holding out an arm, and hitting Jisung’s arm to do the same. “Let us follow Chris before he shouts at us for keeping you here.”

“Don’t say such things,” you cooed, looping your arms with the two boys. “He will kill you outright instead.”

Laughter emitted from the two, leading you out of the room, down the halls and soon the building.

The carriage was waiting at the entrance of the dock, horses neighing softly at your arrival. Jisung opened the carriage door, letting you climb inside. Chris, inside already, held out a hand, you taking it as he had you sit beside him. His hard figure brushed against your shoulders, reminding you of his fingers on your back not too long ago.

Just like that, you slumped against the seating. That man was truly going to be the death of you.

When the two boys scrambled inside, Chris’ hand thudded against the roof, indicating it to start riding. The carriage obliged to his command. 

The small, interwoven streets widened as the carriage rode upon the main roads, going faster with each signal of Chris’ hand. The inside was alive with Jisung gloating shamelessly over his checkered waistcoat, with Changbin giving reassurances for his “ugly face ruining the clothing.” You laughed at every jab the two threw at each other, but would tense at the erratic touches Chris’ knee would send with every shake of the vehicle. Although the many layers of skirts cushioned these brushes, the blood rushing to your cheeks was evidence enough - everything he did made you so unhinged.

Soon, the big roads led from filthy, back-to-back housing to larger homes, the further the dirty central city strayed from you. A few touches of countryside teased your view when you saw mansions, estates the size of neighbourhoods gracing the surroundings. The carriage began to slow down, as more people adorned in fine attire entered your window view, no doubt going to the same destination as the gang.

The most illuminated estate welcomed you as the carriage stopped right before its vast, colourful gardens, smattering of couples taking intimate walks along the hedges. Chris, noticing the destination, opened the door, Changbin following suit. As the former got out he held out his hand to you. Surprised by his sudden manners, you took his hand, stepping down from the carriage, careful of your skirts as they brushed against the pavement. Jisung and Changbin were right beside you, uttering the driver to come back within a couple of hours.

“Now,” Chris began, bringing your hand to his arm. “You both stay behind me and ____. You wouldn’t need invitations if you both act like our bodyguards.”

“Right behind you, boss,” Jisung chanted, counting his knives inside his coat pockets. Changbin took one of the weapons from him, sliding it up his trouser sleeve, securing it with a leather ankle strap. 

“Right.” the gang all looked at each other, silent understanding passing between all of you.

“Let’s ruffle some rich feathers.”

With your hand still on his arm, the leader of the Sons of Seoul led his gang inside of the massive estate. 

Guards at the entrance shot you grave looks as they stopped you. “Invitations,” they said. You obliged, bringing out the golden paper. They looked over, convinced, and gave them back to you.

You and Chris were about to enter when Jisung and Changbin were stopped behind you. “Protection,” Chris said, but the guards were unconvinced. 

“They need invitations too,” was their answer.

Dread, slight yet present, began to fill your stomach. Has the mission failed before it could even begin?

“I suggest you let them in, too,” Chris only said, black eyes piercing the two men with a glare. “Or my friend hosting this party will hear of this inconvenience.”

That seemed to stir the guards, for they said nothing more, letting your friends enter the estate. Jisung and Changbin made sure to smirk at the men before sauntering inside behind you.

Your eyes, upon stepping inside the main hall, were welcomed with paradise. 

Gold. gold upon gold was painted, lined, moulded everywhere, upon the walls, on the floor, on the painted ceiling, hypnotising you with its kaleidoscopic pattern. Swirls of white and silver journeyed along the walls, and the floor bore solid treasures, sculpted into the ground and shining exquisitely from the chandelier lighting. Hundreds of lords and ladies, businessmen and escorts populated the manor, either being moved by the orchestral band, dancing, helping themselves to food from the lines of dishes or simply mingling among others.

It was the chaos of the rich. A place you didn’t quite fit in.

You stole a glance at the man beside you. Even though he looked contained as ever, you felt his arm tightening all over. Perhaps he knew he did not belong in this world either.

The grim understanding was cut off when Changbin’s shrill gulp sounded from behind you.

“Scones!”

The man immediately dashed towards the food section, earning blatant laughter from his friends as Jisung stepped beside Chris. “Once he’s done stuffing himself, we’ll get into positions.” He skirted his eyes over the buzzing crowd. “I have already spotted some of Carter’s men in different corners of the hall, so we can see where they’re going to go.”

“Any signs of Carter?” you asked, already feeling suggestive eyes on your body, the dark red curves of your figure. 

“He’ll show himself soon,” Chris promised, beginning to take a step forward. “The bastard thrives in attention.” He turned to Jisung. “Make yourself scarce.”

He then saw Changbin making himself much too comfortable with the jam scones rapidly declining in his wake. “And for God’s sake, control Changbin.”

Jisung shook his head, mocking a salute before strolling to his friend. You and him were left to your own activities, and soon you felt the tug of his body, leading you further into the hall.

You looked up to see him scouring the room. His brows furrowed slightly, that stiffness felt underneath your fingertips. “Chris,” you called to him, and were answered with an uncertain stare.

“I’m alright,” he said, walking along the lines of the dance floor, looking away when he gave you the false assurance. 

You did not know what was going on. In other missions his composure would never falter — this was what he was so notorious for, being calm despite the anarchy around him. Never before had you seen him so tense.

“Stop it.”

You blinked back into reality. “What?”

“You’re doing it again,” he hissed, raking his hand through his hair. “Looking at me that way. Like I’m about to snap.”

A pout formed on your lips, looking up at him underneath your lashes. “I can sense you’re distressed.” You squeezed his arm in comfort. “I cannot help if I worry for you, Chris.” 

With small surprise, you found him soften, only slightly. “I just…” he sighed in exasperation. “I hate parties.”

You understood the connotations. Wealthy parties. The men and women who throw them. 

“And I, too,” you agreed, earning a soft snort from the man. Your heart warmed a little at the sound, and thankfully the tension faded between the two of you, not necessarily from each other but from the socialites around you.

Your heart, however, received no such rest, beating much too loud for your liking. 

The two of you took another turn of the room before a low, arrogant drawl paused you both in your tracks.

“Mr Christopher Bang.”

You and your leader both sighed simultaneously. 

Turning, you tilted your head upwards to none other than ‘Scar’ Carter, smirking ridiculously down at the the two of you. He was something out of a children’s book, the grotesque villains with wanned skin and beady looks, ready to pounce and make you disappear without you ever realising. Although young, he looked to be in his mid-forties, unkept locks and curled moustache, being played by his fingers. 

He held out his other hand, extending the smile to the man beside you. “Always a goddamned blessing to see you.”

Chris assessed his hand for a moment before he let go of your grip on his arm, slipping off his gloves. His own olive coloured hands were roughened, no doubt from years of manual labour. He took Carter’s hand, shaking the greeting in place, and the latter turned his enemy’s hold, looking over at the new image inked upon the hand.

“What is this, Chrissy?” He mused, the nickname causing the said-man’s lips to twitch. “Some flowery poetry?”

Your eyes strayed to what he meant; just under his thumb, where the joint began, was a tattoo, inked deeply in a cursive hand. It was a phrase you had never knew the meaning of, nor had you asked, but the Latin was beautiful on his textured skin.

NON DUCOR DUCO.

“Not poetry, Carter,” he only said, tracing his sole tattoo with a finger. “But something I live by.”

Despite Carter towering over the man, Chris Bang pinned him with a piercing glare. His signature phantom smile appeared on his lips. 

“I am not led. I lead.”

The giant’s shit-eating grin faltered. You could not help but let a small chuckle escape at his reaction. 

And maybe you shouldn’t have shown amusement, because when he focused his animalistic gaze upon you, you had the sudden urge to hold onto the man beside you again.

“Ah, Miss ____,” he jeered, mocking a deep bow which you did not return. “Chris’ little...protégée.”

He then held out his hand to you, and you knew it was not to shake the gnarled fingers. “Would you do me the honour of dancing with you?”

You scoffed, anger bubbling within your veins. How dare he even ask you, after all the trouble he had caused for the gang? Smirking as if it was all a little game.

Your mouth parted, ready to reject him outright when a warm hand settled on your back. 

Chris’ fingers stroked the exposed skin, skirting over the lacing, and despite the heavenly feeling, you knew what this signal really meant. 

Distraction. This would be the perfect opportunity to divert Carter’s attention while Chris joined in the other’s search. Listening to the instrumental, you realised that would spare them another five minutes.

Reigning in your fury, you offered the bastard a thin-lipped smile before taking his hand, already missing the mere touch of another seconds before.

Carter led you to the dance floor among the other dancers, you hardly radiating the same enthusiasm as the others accompanying you. The man’s other hand, one still holding yours, snaked around your waist, and you hated how it felt against your back, pure distaste staining your features as he tried to impersonate the idle lace curling that Chris did.

As if it physically hurt, you propped a hand upon his shoulder, and when the music began, the game started.

The giant kept ogling at you as the sly grin appeared on his lips. “I must say, I am very envious of Chris.”

You matched his stare. “Of course you would,” you only said, trying your best to sound like your leader, who was an embodiment of calmness. “You can never be the man Chris is.”

“Oh, I did not mean by what he is, my lady,” he corrected. “I meant by what he has.”

He pulled you to him, much to close, and you hissed as the fingers behind you played on your back. “He is much too lucky to possess a creature like you, Miss ____.”

Good God. If he endeavoured to make you as uncomfortable as possible, then he was doing a splendid job. You regretted ever listening to Chris, but for the plan, you will do what is necessary.

As if on cue, you felt dark, piercing eyes on you. By the little hairs which stood at the back of your neck, there was no doubt who watched over you, murmuring progress with Jisung as he sipped wine on a tightly held flute. 

“Tell me, sweet,” he began once more, making you lose your thoughts, turning about the room as the music went on. “Why do you work for a man like him?”

You sighed at the question. Truly this man did not know how to initiate small talk. “Why is that any of your concern?”

“Because I’ve seen you in action,” he answered, and you could not mistake the awe that threatened to expose in his voice. “You have incredible potential, my lady, and it pains me that Chris does not use you properly. You waste your efforts in a silly gang.”

His condescending speech made you dig his nails in his hand. “Careful, Carter,” you seethed, watching his face crumple in pain from your action. “The silly gang you speak of will not hesitate to obliterate your entire organisation. And neither will I.”

Rage flashed in his eyes as he grinned at your claim. “I doubt the esteemed Christopher Bang would even let you participate,” he drawled, grazing his fingers against your back. “You being his whore is enough for him.”

You parted your mouth in slight shock. The reaction quickly evaporated with pure, unadulterated fury. A lot of people speculate your true relationship with Chris, but your own demeaning always struck deep. How dare people think that you only have the power you have because you slept with the greatest criminal in the city? 

With your head raging, you sent your low heel down upon Carter’s boot, a yelp escaping the man as his dancing faltered, grip on you loosening. Fortunately for you, the orchestra smoothed their music to a close, and small applause rang around the room, you joining as you smiled at Carter’s slight groaning.

When the giant looked at you again, all his arrogance was gone, instead a face of wrath. “You bitch-”

You were sure he was going to strike, despite hundreds in the ballroom. Even your smug demeanour dampened when you saw his bear-like hand raise when its journey was paused.

Ceased completely as Chris’ hand wrapped around Carter’s wrists.

Your leader’s smile was sharp, like a decorated dagger. “Are you already creating a scene, just when you finished the first dance?”

Carter, dumbfounded by his enemy’s sudden presence, waved off the foreign grip on his hand. “You are never going to find the documents,” he crowed, glaring at the two of you.

Chris, the magnificent bastard, only kept his magnetic smirk as he took your hand, enveloping his fingers with yours. “We shall see about that,” he promised, and dipped his head in adieu, turning on his heel and taking you with him. 

You felt your heart flutter when his grip on you stayed, even when Carter stomped off into the crowd. “Bastard,” you hissed. A hum of agreement followed. 

Soon, music began to play a sensual tune, and you looked to the couples joining in the main circle of the floor. You made to leave that area when you felt the man refused to be led. 

You looked back, noticing an uncertain emotion swirling in his eyes. “The dance is about to begin.”

“So?” he merely said, hands still clasping yours. The people around you began to take positions. 

“Chris,” you got out. “You do not dance.”

A small smile enveloped his mouth at the claim. He answered in wrapping a hand around you, making you suck in a breath. You caught sight of the tattoo inked on his skin as he raised his hold on. NON DUCOR DUCO.

I am not led. I lead.

“You’re right,” he admitted. As the first tune of the violin settled in the ballroom, the man took a step. “But I let it slide on special occasions.”

You did not reply, only staring at him as you happily let him turn you about the dance floor.

Your assumptions were correct - Chris Bang was a wonderful dancer. The man already possessed a natural smoothness in his usual movement, but the way he led you across the room gave fluidity another meaning entirely. His hand on your back was an anchor to reality, keeping you from dreaming away in the skies above, and his fingers, interlocked with yours, were a silent promise that he was never letting you go. 

You were so caught up in your fantasies that you did not hear what Chris said until he called your name. 

“____.”

You perked up, raising your brows. “Yes?

“Did Carter say anything to you?” His fingers on your exposed skin began to caress you, and it took a lot within you to stay calm. “You were seething while you both danced.”

Oh, so he was watching you. The information didn’t help your nerves. “He was being his usual, charming self,” you drawled, careful of your feet. 

He paused a bit at your unhelpful answer. “I see,” he got out, index curling with the ribbon of your back. You let out a shuddered breath, not going unnoticed by the man. 

You changed the subject, focusing on the mission. “Are Jisung and Changbin still searching for the documents?”

Chris, on the note, twirled you delicately, and brought you back into his arms. “They have discovered the hideout, and have taken down half the men,” he informed, and you sighed in relief. “They’ll find what we’re looking for soon.”

“I hope so, too,” you murmured, listening to the music ascend in its pitch. 

So much finery radiated in this room. As your eyes drifted to the surroundings once more, you became slightly envious of the family fortunate enough to reside in this estate, and drink in the liquid gold splattered everywhere in the vast hall. Complaints were heard from a rather nasty woman, who screamed at a young servant for spilling wine on her oh so expensive dress, and the jewellery which glittered upon necks and ears. 

This. you hated this. Despised the wealth which accumulated in this ball, this entire neighbourhood. Not months ago you were about to die from the lack of food in your stomach. No doubt these people simply relished another one of these many balls, occurring every season.

It was the only reason the Sons of Seoul existed in the first place. To battle the ranks of the rich, and establish a sense of justice which had long faded from London.

Perhaps Chris sensed your growing disgust at the environment, for he sighed. “I hate these people.”

You nearly smiled at how similar you both think.

His touches still had you nearing closer to him as he continued, “I hate how everyone here can simply enjoy themselves without a care in the world. I hate the Mayor for letting this chaos happen as he sits back on his arse, corruption spiking under his office.”

His anger grew. “I hate that pig-headed prick Carter and all the trouble he’s brought me. I hate that he stole those documents and constantly fucks with me as if we two had not crawled out of the same hellhole.

“And God,” he snapped, pure venom now lacing his tongue, “I hate how he was touching you as if you were no one but his.”

Your eyes widened at the confession.

He groaned out in frustration, fingers tightening on your hand. “I hate how Jisung and Changbin walked in on us this evening. Despise that the moment I was about to close the distance they burst through the door, leaving me helpless. And I hate feeling helpless.”

You did not know what to say, what words to comfort him with. Not when you were thinking the exact same thing, and felt the exact same agitation, particularly at your core.

The man leaned in, eyes heavy lidded. “You know what I hate the most, ____?”

Gulping, you let out a little, “What?” afraid of what he was going to reveal.

His tongue ran along his bottom lip, fingers continuing their teasing.

“I-” he seethed, gripping your back tightly. “Fuck, I hate how ravishing you look in that dress.”

You parted your mouth in shock, blushing the colour of roses. “Why do you hate that?” you only asked, breath almost lost in your lungs as your blood began to thrum beneath your skin.

His eyes lost all dreamy light when a small curve enveloped his lips. “Because, my dear ____,” he muttered hoarsely, each breath ragged, “It makes me think of all the things I want to do to you.”

The strong hand on his back was felt much more, fingers playing with the laces of your dress. You nearly cried out in front of a hundred people over their idle play, and his bold, bold statement.

Chris relished in your whimpering reaction. “Aren’t you going to ask me?” he whispered, leaning in till his mouth hovered near your ear. “Do you not want to know what I wish to do to you?”

“What,” you rasped out, grip tightening over his neck. “What are you going to do?”

His husky chuckling nearly sent you over the edge. “I’ll find a nice little space, away from Carter and all these people,” he began, breath caressing your skin. “Then I’ll kiss you slowly, like so.” he pressed a chaste kiss underneath your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “These hands of mine will roam all over, but they will gladly trail up your legs, ____.

“And God, when my hands stop at your sopping cunt, I’ll make it cry with my fingers.” He drummed his fingers on your back. “One.” Tap. “Two.” Tap. “Three of them.” Tap. “Perhaps you’d like more.”

You whined into his shoulder, feet stumbling as you clung onto him tighter. “M-more,” you pleaded quietly, so careful to keep dancing, move along to the music. 

“Of course you would,” he only cooed in your ear, and you were scared you would collapse over his words. “Luckily for you, I wouldn’t be finished with you either.”

Your hand, clasped in his his, squeezed at his words. “Chris, please—”

“Yes, just like that,” the man mused, whirling you on the dance floor. “Just like that, you’ll beg me to send you over the edge, but I won’t let you be satisfied so easily.” 

On God and all his subjects, if he did not cease his filth you were going to come onto the floor by his mere words. You could tell Chris noticed, almost reading your mind as the ghost of a smirk widened. “Already afraid, love?”

Love. 

Dear, fucking God.

“You see, ____,” he muttered, leading you to the final round of the song, the steps of the dance going faster. “I won’t let you be satiated with just my fingers.”

And as he broke his hold on you, twirling you with his tattooed hand, he pulled you to him, one last time, crushing you against his granite chest. 

His eyes bore into yours when the last string of the violin wailed around the hall. All you could see was pure, unadulterated desire.

“I will have you writhing with my cock.”

Your eyes never left Chris’ as the music finally came to a close, gaze blurring at the dark promise. Applause scattered around the ballroom, yet your hands stayed upon his arm, the other enveloped in his.

You caught the words once more under his thumb. NON DUCOR DUCO.

Indeed you do.

“Chris,” you breathed out, waiting for him to let you go. He did no such thing.

Feeling a few suspicious eyes on you, your feet backed away from the man, hands escaping the feeling he emitted underneath your touch. 

A whine threatened to escape you when you saw his desire had not dampened. His hands shook, only slightly, and your stomach erupted into a million butterflies, journeying lower and lower. 

You wanted him. You wanted him so badly you feared you would faint on the dance floor. 

Excusing yourself, you hastened your footsteps, sending a few smiles to passerbys as you picked up a flute of champagne, hurrying down long hallways, catching a few couples leaning towards each other. When you found a grand wooden cabinet beside another door, no doubt a guest room, you slumped next to it, breathing loud and ragged, too affected by a certain man’s eyes and the hidden intentions underneath. You drank the entire champagne in one gulp, propping the flute on a servant’s tray as he rushed by.

“____!”

Gasping, you turned to the source of the voice. The voice which filled you with such unexplainable hunger you had to clench your thighs as it drew nearer.

Footsteps thudded against the carpet, and you squirmed at the sight of Chris Bang, storming towards you with a ferocity which had your knees near buckling.

“Where,” he began, voice an octave lower as he stood not a foot from you, smacking his hands against the wall, caging you with his presence. “Were you trying to lead me?”

“Somewhere where they cannot see us,” you responded, excitement clear in your voice. The ballroom chatter was still within your range, so technically, anyone could wonder down these halls, look over the cabinet and catch you both. 

The throbbing inside you didn’t particularly care. 

“And what do you want me to do,____,” he murmured, and his voice was glazed with pure lust,  “Which the world cannot see?”

“I…” slight shame tried to course through your body but the overflowing desire was too strong. Not when your tongue was not afraid to voice what was in your heart the moment you first saw him. “I want you to do all those things you said. I want you to ruin me.”

And perhaps that was all he needed, when Christopher Bang pressed his lips against yours and answered your prayers.

He was instantly rewarded with your surprised whine, drowned out by the movement of his mouth as his hands left the wall, holding onto your face. His thumbs caressed your cheeks as he led the fiery kiss, opening your mouth to let the little noises escape.

“Chris,” you tried to rasp out, but his lips refused once more as he tilted your head, gaining full access and truly discovering the sheer pleasure oozing from the swell of your lips. God, he had gone through every experience which gave him a sense of thrill, but the kiss he shared with you brought him a new, foreign high — as if he tried the drugs he had seen on the streets for the first time, and becoming addicted on the first dose. 

You broke the kiss, gasping for air as the two of you shared a carnal gaze, chests rising at an unsteady rhythm. Chris was ruthless, only sparing you for a few seconds before pouncing back in on your mouth, this time tongue playing along, asking to be let inside and slide along the inner workings. You would have been a fool to refuse him.

The moment you opened your lips for him his tongue slithered inside, sliding it along the roof of your mouth, while his hands left your face and instead gripped onto your waist, driving you further against the wall, snuffing out any distance which dared come between you and him.

A slightly moan bubbled within your throat when he began to roughen your lips, capturing your tongue before closing the seam of your mouth within his own, repeating the action until you didn’t know whether you were sane or absolutely fucking crazy.

You were sure straight after when one of his hands began sliding down. Down. He hurriedly broke the kiss, letting out an angry groan at the never ending skirts which met with his fingers. “Fuck this dress,” he cursed as he descended a little, peppering kisses upon the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your neck, trailing until he found the hem of your skirts.

Bunching them up with his one hand, he lifted the fabric, baring your legs to the dimmed chandelier light from the main hall. His hand trailed right up to your core, a single layer hiding it from Chris’ fingers. The poor, soaked fabric could not ever compete, when the criminal, with a single finger as he scattered kisses upon your face, hooked under the lacey underwear, sliding it down your thighs. So much desperation lurked he did not even bother to slide it down to your ankles,  a chuckle rasping out of him as his fingers skimmed your upper thighs to find them dripping with the suppressed arousal.

“My poor, poor, darling,” he whispered in a menacing tone, the other hand caressing your face, “Couldn’t contain yourself for me?”

“Ch-chan,” you heard yourself say, because at this point your soul was not present, probably lurking in seventh heaven where this man was taking you. 

Hearing his name on your slurred mouth only had him plunging the first finger inside you. 

You let out an obscenely loud moan, which was immediately followed by hushing. “Don’t make a sound,” he demanded, smiling slyly at your whimpering, “Or else I stop. Understand?”

You could not nod fast enough, and he huffed out a laugh before sliding the second finger in, rubbing against your slit, drawing circles upon your throbbing skin, testing the rather sticky waters of you and your fucked out state. 

Satisfied, he delved the two fingers in deeper, pulsating against your walls until they hit a certain spot which had you crying out in pleasure. Chris’ heavy lidded warning flashed in his eyes.

You nearly cried when he began to slide his fingers out over your moaning, your hand immediately stopping him from pulling out further. “Ch-Chan,” you pleaded, pleaded like the whores you heard on the docks, but you didn’t care, did not give a single fuck when those fingers needed to be inside you again. “Chan, please, I’m sorry—”

“One more fuck up, ____, and these—” his fingers plunged back into you once more, hitching you upwards with the sheer force, “—will be back out.”

Nodding hastily, you left your hand on his wrist. Chris continued to work so deliciously inside you that it took every ounce of strength left in you not to bring the manor down with your moaning. The whimpering could not be contained, but the criminal let that slide, finding great contentment every time you begged for more.

He curled his slender fingers, acquainting himself with that same bloody spot which had you seeing stars. Your hands gripped onto his neck for stability, nails digging into his shirt. How you wanted it off, along with all the damned layers he adorned.

The way he played with your sweet spot had you feeling heavy, a pleasured ball of pain forming at your lower back. You knew you were being led to an edge, an edge you could not, did not want to escape, and when you pulled away from Chris, looking into his eyes, he instantly understood.

“Oh my, love,” he simpered, his free hand thumbing your cheek. “Does someone want to get fucked against the wall? When I’m not even finished with them yet?”

Tears lined your eyes, cunt throbbing almost painfully around his fingers. “Chan, I’m going to—ah!” you cut off, closing your eyes as you barely held on to your last grips of sanity. “Chan.”

Your weakened, fucked out demeanour had the most dangerous man in London fearing for his own senses. He wished nothing more than you screaming his name for the whole city to hear, and with you, looking at him like that…

Oh, he was definitely going to drive you over the edge.

Christopher Bang nearly carried out his promise when a shrill call interrupted you two. 

“CHRIS! ____!”

“WHERE ARE YOU—?”

Your lust-glazed stare cracked as you blinked. “Chan,” you said his name, but the man let out an enraged roar. You felt the hollow emptiness when those golden fingers were pulled out of you, sticky residue coating his skin. The footsteps grew closer, the volume of the shouting increasing. 

Chris brought out a white handkerchief, cleaning your mess on his fingers rather aggressively. “I’m going to fucking kill them,” he guttered out, making your legs tremble. To your utmost misery you felt the orgasm, so close before, fading from existence, and you made a silent vow to break Jisung and Changbin’s legs the moment all of this was over.

Speaking of the Devil, the two hastened, opening all doors and closing them till the two stumbled upon the both of you, infuriated and worryingly turned on.

Changbin looked at the deflated expression on both of yours faces. “Chris? ____?” His eyes narrowed, trying to work out the reasons for the slight electric atmosphere he suddenly entered in. “Are you both...alright?”

“Perfectly,” the man answered in a ragged hiss, sliding on his gloves again, smoothing over his raven locks. “Now why the fuck are you both here?”

The two boys did not understand their leader’s anger. Choosing to let the snipe slide, Jisung said, “We’ve caught Carter.”

That seemed to send you and Chris back in reality. Well, not really, when your core still throbbed, the pleasure fading with each passing second.

“Where is he?” Chris flattened out his coat. “Where are the documents?”

Changbin brought out a small file from inside his waistcoat, holding it out for the former. “Right here.”

Chris took the file, skimming through the contents. His previously angered expression relaxed, just a fraction, and he held onto it as he set his powerful gaze on you all. 

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

The four of you managed to slip away easily, you trying your hardest to fix yourself after the whole fiasco in the hallway. Your heart was still running a mile per minute, refusing to calm as your mind relived the events. The original carriage which you all arrived in was now accompanied with another one, with a dark figure hunched over from the window’s view.

“We threw the giant fucker in another carriage,” Changbin said, laughing as he recalled the takedown with Jisung. “Man could not believe he was failing!”

Chris ignored his story, turning to you all as he stood before Carter’s carriage. “You three, take the free one,” he ordered, his eyes rooted on you. “I will journey home with him.”

“But Chris,” you began, taking a step towards him, “Let me come with you.”

You caught a glimpse of the desire which swirled in his eyes, not long ago, and perhaps that was why he held your arm in his now gloved hand. 

“Go,” he only said. “I have a few things to say to him alone.”

After letting you go, nodding at the boys behind you, Chris Bang stepped inside the first carriage, slamming the door shut. The metal wheels screeched as the whole thing began to move, accelerating away.

You watched the carriage fade from view, Jisung and Changbin stepping beside you.

“What happened, ____?” the former asked, the other trying to comfort you with his gaze. 

Silence was their only answer, as you turned on your heel, climbing inside your designated ride and watched the stars twinkle from the window.

The two members of the gang really tried their best.

As you all journeyed home without your leader, the pair told their tale of how they took down Carter and his men, Jisung adding exaggerated gasps as Changbin demonstrated each kill he thrust upon his victims. You offered them a few laughs, giving them your attention, but really your mind was somewhere else, specifically a midnight-tainted criminal who nearly brought you your undoing.

You were insane. Insane as you thought of him, insane as you remembered how wonderfully he had you writhing over him, just by his fingers. The mindless pondering alone had your cunt pulsating, and you deserved an award for how unaffected you acted with your friends. 

Soon, the carriage slowed to a stop, and you perked up, not realising you had already arrived home. 

You waited for the boys to exit before you stepped out of the carriage, the only light on the docks emitting from lamps and the night sky, reflected on the surface of the river. The first carriage was already there when your feet met the concrete floor, and when you turned to the man who reigned in your mind he had his signature expression, an aloof distaste as he walked over to his gang. 

“Jisung, Changbin,” he called, and the boys responded. “Lock the carriage door,” he ordered, jerking his chin towards his transport. “We will bring him out in the morning.”

“Chris, should we not throw him in the cellar?” Changbin glared at Carter’s direction. “Bastard might escape.”

He only slid his hands in his pockets, you catching the dried blood on his gloves. “Oh, don’t worry about that,” he said, striking a step towards the building. “He’s not going to disturb us tonight. I can promise you that.”

Jisung cursed low along with you, only watching the man walk back to the bedrooms. Bidding goodnight to your friends, you followed Chris’ trail, opening the door and stepping inside the hallway.

You saw him before his bedroom door, bringing out a rusted key. His eyes slid to you as your feet brought you to your entrance. You looked back, waiting as Chris unlocked his room and began to enter.

He turned back, something dark and twisted still lurking in his eyes.

You waited, so patiently at the words you wished to hear, of him finally ruining you.

Instead, you received something else entirely.

“Goodnight, ____.”

And closed the door behind him.

Your heart dropped. 

Fell to the floor, and shattered under the criminal’s bloodied boots. 

The light of the hallway flickered as you stood rooted to the doorway, eyes staring at Chris’ door as if looking at it hard enough would get him to change his mind.

What did you know. The man is not led by exterior forces. Only by his own will.

When you gathered up the strength to the slam the door shut, you slumped against the wood, hating yourself for the tears which threatened to break the lines of your eyes. This was pathetic — utterly disgusting that you were about to cry over his decision.

But you could not help it. You were so enraptured by him. Hell, you were ready to throw yourself in the fires of damnation for him, as he whispered filth all the while rutting against you. Why had that suddenly changed?

“Argh!” You screamed, stomping over to the lamp, light now long extinguished. You relit it’s spark, illuminating the room once more, and set it on the stool before recklessly plucking out the pearls in your hair, a few tears daring to trail down your cheeks. 

Fuck him. Fuck him for making you so rattled. Fuck him for having that effect on you.

You looked into your mirror and cursing yourself for the disheveled appearance. Again, the consequences for letting yourself fall for him.

“To hell with you Bang Chan,” you cursed. 

You were about to untie your dress when your bedroom door was nearly ripped off its hinges. 

Flinching, you grabbed the dagger on your dresser, raised to cut down whoever stupid enough to barge in on an assassin at midnight.

You were met with Christopher Bang. 

And the disorder he brought with him.

Chaos reigned in his figure; his tousled locks, his star-struck expression, his rolled-up sleeves and his pandemonic eyes, all working together and against each other to create the man you had never seen in your life. 

Good God. What had happened to him?

“Chan?” You got out, dagger now brought down. He said not a single word in response as he slammed the door shut, hard enough for the entirety of London to hear. 

Instead, he imprisoned you with his stare, almost giving you his chaos. The chaos you had always shared with him since the moment he picked you off the streets.

No, he said not one word — only took the steps needed to march towards you. You could only watch with widening eyes when he grabbed your face in his rugged hands and collided his lips against yours. 

You did not even hesitate to comply, hands grabbing onto his shirt, pulling him as close as you possibly could, so afraid that he would disappear from your grip if you dared let go. With the way he moved his mouth along yours, however, already opening up the familiar workings, you had a feeling he was not going to abandon you now.

When he broke away, breathing already erratic, his hands slid down to your neck, thumbs caressing the length of your throat. “I couldn’t,” he started, and he was sprinkling kisses all over your face. “I couldn’t leave.”

“I was scared, Chan,” you confessed, fisting the material harder. “I thought you truly did.”

His eyes focused on you. Within the turmoil, there was a promise. “Never,” he whispered, leaning in. “Never again.”

And suddenly his lips were on you, and the desperation was so rooted he nearly stole the very breath from your lungs. The sheer intensity, the longing implied broke your heart to the point you attached yourself to him, wrapping your arms around him and refusing to ever let him go.

The rather soft kiss began to heat up, as Chris broke the seam of your lips, swirling your tongue in his, already receiving incoherent praise from deep down your throat, making the man smile against his lips as he continued. 

His hands slid further down, right to the small of your back, where he began to untie all the little bows he created for you at the dawn of the evening, the little touches of fire singeing you still. It was fascinating how effortlessly he loosened all the laces, fingers sliding through the patterns until one by one they fluttered down, until the dark red dress slackened around your chest. 

A small gasp escaped you as Chris, while creating a trail of kisses down your jaw, right down to your neck, grabs the dress from your sides, hitching it down until it falls to the floor. Leaving you practically naked save for the scraps covering your dangerously soiled underwear. 

Chris paused from his ravishing, taking a much too long look at your skin, glowing from the lamp light, and before he could stare any longer you brought your arms to your chest, suddenly becoming a little too embarassed to let him see you at your most vulnerable. 

The supposedly unfeeling criminal, however, nearly broke into a smile at your flustered nature, and grabbed onto your wrists, opening the lock to your breasts, peaked by his actions, and the thought of what was to come.

The soiled underwear was about to drip at this point.

“You’re exquisite,” was all he said, making you almost burst into tears at the praise. You pressed a long, heart shattering kiss upon his mouth, and he responded perfectly, hands sliding to your naked waist, each drum of his fingers like a tug towards a dangerous edge. 

Things began to take a turn, open mouthed kisses being plastered on the skin of your throat as the man pushed you back, further and further until the back of your knees hit the bed, stopping you in his tracks. His grip on your waist directed downwards, planting you on the mattress as his mouth descended to your collarbone, down and down until he licked your peaked nipple in a way that had you moaning obscenely loud. His husky chuckle resonated along your skin, still not pausing his trail until he hit the end of the dip of your cunt, barricaded by the fabric. 

The moment he looked up at you, that alone made you nearly undo yourself. By the increasing volume of your breathing, Chris seemed to realise so too.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he got out, watching you whimper at each touch caressing your hips. “Already about to come when I haven’t even done anything?”

“Ch-Chan,” you pleaded, wishing for those damned fingers of his to plunge inside of you. The son of a bitch was taking his time, making you wait knowing it pained you to stay like this. “Chan—”

His name on your tongue had him gritting his teeth, hands on each of your side grabbing onto your lace, and sliding your underwear down, all the way till it fell free from your legs and threw it across the room, forgotten when Chris parted his mouth at the moistened treasure between your legs. 

Those roughened hands steeled their grip on your thighs, pulling you closer till you sat right on the edge of the bed, cunt mere inches from his face. You could not even comprehend the insanity of this situation, that the hidden fantasies you dreamed of shamelessly were morphing into reality right before your eyes.

“So, so pretty,” he murmured, blowing a little air on your slick folds, earning himself a sucked in breath from his truly. “So pretty and wet, and all because of me.”

You let out a ragged breath, words of filth sounding so foreign on his tongue. It was not like he didn’t talk like the sailors living near you on the docks, but these dirty words and dirtier intentions, now all directed at you, made you feel so flustered, in a wondrous way you could not possibly describe. All you wanted was for him to keep singing this filth till you blacked out.

Chris, with the force of his hands, spread your thighs a little wider, and without warning broke his tongue from the seam of his lips, planting it upon your slit and moving it slowly over the surface.

That alone made you cry out in ecstasy.

But that was only a test, a taking on of foreign surroundings before truly welcoming himself, and by God, did he welcome himself in as more than a guest, when that tongue slid deeper and performed strokes which had you seeing all the stars in the universe. 

What was first slow teasing then became a starved hunt, tongue relishing in the sweet arousal you emitted, lapping it up brazenly as if he had been wanting to do this for a long, long time. Your blubbering grew louder with every lick, fisting the sheets behind you with such ferocity you were sure they’d tear. 

And if that wasn’t painstakingly enough, the man spread your legs a little wider, his tattooed hand, two fingers out, sliding straight inside you, making you mewl at the way they tightened they walls they journeyed in. Curling, just like they did earlier in the evening, they took their time finding the certain little spot which had you bringing the house down with your cries. 

“Ch-Chan, please, please, I’m going to—AH!” You rasped out, when the said-criminal found the sweet little undoing of yours and stroked your fingers along the sensitive spot, making that bundle of pleasure resonating in your back appear once more, like a low throbbing begging to be released.

His tongue had not given you any breaks, still working ruthlessly along your clit and you cried for him to give you that sweet release, to just let you come but he had not let you be satisfied this easily. No, he wanted you writhing underneath him, wanted the final ruination to be from underneath his trousers, angered as it outlined against his leather.

You craned your head back, screaming out his name because you knew all else had abandoned you. “Chan!” Looking down, his mouth very much occupied with your cunt. Your orgasm was reaching, was on the very edge, and if he kept working on you like this he was on his way to taste the consequences of his actions.

Something about that image made you want it as a reality with a worryingly strong intensity. 

“Chan, I’m going to—” you were about to warn but were interrupted by a squeeze of your thigh, done by yours truly as if he knew. And as if he knew, the two fingers began pumping much faster, harmonising along with his tongue, and the two actions at once, fucking you with that rapidity was so pleasurable that, with the first earth-shattering cry of the night, you were driven over the edge, releasing your orgasm straight into the criminal’s face.

You felt the work of his fingers slow down, along with his tongue, that with one, final lick, he retreated from your cunt, fingers still inside you as they comforted your aching core with slow, soothing strokes. 

When he looked up at you, though, with your residue mostly upon his mouth, scattered on his cheeks, and basically a bit of everywhere, that sight alone nearly caused you to come all over again. 

Perhaps that was his intentions. 

Because when he licked his lips clean of your mess, ever so slowly, as if enjoying your orgasm like a man starved, you instantly saw in his eyes that this night was not over yet. 

“Already so good, so wonderful,” he mused, slipping his fingers out, both hands now resting on your thighs. “Coming so quick even though I had been saving for the last.”

You knew exactly what he meant, but still had the nerve to ask, “The last?”

He raised a groomed brow, and that gesture was so breathtaking, more so when he raised himself slightly, so he knelt eye-level to you. “Don’t act oblivious, love,” he mused, leaving your thighs to your disappointment, but quickly diminishing when his fingers worked on the buttons of his shirt, slowly popping upon, each patch of skin being revealed like a show of your own. “We both know this isn’t how it’s going to end.”

Shivers crawled down your spine, but you only watched as the man finished undoing his shirt, peeling it off of him and throwing it amongst the other clothing. You nearly let spit trail down your chin at the sheer finery of his muscle alone, sharpened at his arms, his chest all the way down to his v-line, which dipped dangerously low. With no small amount of pride, you also noticed the large, angry outline of Chris’ cock, begging to be set free. 

The man caught you blatantly staring, and a shit-eating grin twisted his glistening lips. “You may do the honours if you’re so keen.”

Blushing, you mumbled a shut up, but was captured by Chris’ lips, tasting your own arousal on his tongue, as his grip on you led you further into the bed, while you fumbled on the buttons of his trousers, popping them open one by one when you broke from the kiss, your turn to shower him with more along the veiny expanse of his neck as you pulled his trousers down, tossing them among the pile.

When you saw the slight-stained underwear of his, you felt the familiar throbbing again, so affected by how you affected him. Noticing your apparent pride, he pressed his lips upon you in a searing kiss, peeling off any last scrap of clothing and forgetting that too among the other clothing.

And by God, when Chris Bang’s cock escaped from his underthings your mouth actually watered at the sheer size it bore. Husky laughter resonated in your ears, and you flushed the colour of blood when he caught you staring much too audaciously than he would have imagined. 

“Already fantasising about my cock?” He slurred, the tattooed hand curling stray hairs from your sweat-slick, flushed face. The way you scrunched your nose, clearly flustered by his comment, melted his stone cold heart, as he caressed your cheeks with his fingers. 

You did not answer him, only whispering his name along his skin, waiting and waiting for the man to drive that force home inside you. “Chan,” you murmured, and the name you kept saying like a religious chant, like it was the only word that mattered, was what brought him to grip his cock, directing it against your entrance, the still slick folds which grew more wet every time the tip caressed the sensitive skin. “Chan, please—”

“Please what?” He demanded, demanded because he needed to hear you precisely want you wanted. The words he practically prayed would be on your tongue the moment he kissed you for the first time this evening.

Obliging him was like second nature. “Please fuck me, Chan,” you breathed out, holding onto his shoulders, knowing you were going to need a hell of a good grip for what was about to arrive. “Please, just ruin me with your cock.”

A malicious smile curled upon his lips. “Good, good girl,” he purred, and began the descend which you dreamed of the very first night you realised you were ridiculously attracted to him.

His cock slid inside you, and with a soul-wrenching whine, was perfectly snug as the journey went on, and on, and on, until you were certain you could not take anymore, despite the man retaining a few inches. He was slow at first, making sure you were not going to be pained by this action. Although your nails dug into the granite muscle of his shoulders, you only egged him on. “M-more,” you only said, and he readily obliged, until you felt him all around you in your body, as if he had filled you up to the brim. 

“Ready?” He asked, and when you nodded, he rested his forehead against yours as gently, he began to pull out. 

You nearly whined at the lack of inches filling you up, but then he brought his cock back in, creating this hypnotic rhythm which was so unimaginably ethereal you felt yourself float amongst the clouds. Each thrust out and thrust in was a drive in and out of reality, with Chris Bang holding the tether of your survival, pulling you in and out of his mercy. 

Gradually, he began to fasten, panting as his drove into you with more force, and when the momentum hardened, you felt your soul leave your body. His cock created wonders for you, having you scream in unimaginable pleasure, and driving your nails into his back was not enough, your lewd moaning not enough given to his sheer skill, his pure simplicity in bringing his cock back and front which had you seeing stars. Hell, Christopher Bang showed you undiscovered universes, leading you across galaxies and unfamiliar cosmos, each thrust in a different vision, and when he lifted your leg a little higher for more access, you feared that you would wake the whole docks with your groaning, for this criminal, this heartless criminal provided you with the whole universe with the simple strokes of his cock inside you, and all you could offer him were screams. 

Even your reactions were pure Beethoven to his ears, relishing in your fucked out state as he gave you all he asked, driving you to the edge of the world. You, finally, clashed your lips against his, offering him sloppy, open mouthed kisses all over his face and neck, and that alone had him greeting his teeth, knowing his own release was near. You were going to die if he was not given the same pleasure as you, so you reacted with each of his touches, each of his thrusts, him practically pistoning you upon this bed which very much would break. 

“Ch...Chan…” you grated out, eyes blurring, vision completely fucked, “I’m...I-I—”

“I—fuck,” he too got out, for your last love mark painted onto to the curve of his neck nearly had him ruined. “I’m going to come, too, love—”

“Chan!” You whined, because the throbbing was there, and was so close that if the man did not send that last thrust home then it was all for nothing, everything that had ever happened will all be for nothing.

But he listened. The man who did not listen to anyone or anything listened, and pounded his cock so hard in approval that it had you crying out to the cosmos as you finally let go, orgasm spilling out from whatever space the residue could find between his cock. Your own release had Chris groaning louder than he had even done this entire time, praising you unconditionally, until the filth was cut off by a low curse, with his own release barrelling into you, some joining your spilled mess upon the sheets.

Chris let out a shuddering breath, slowly crossing his movement inside you. Carefully, when you stopped digging your nails into his shoulders, he pulled out, reaching for the blanket untouched and bringing it over you and him before collapsing beside you. Both of you breathed as if you had held your oxygen for a thousand years, chests rising unevenly. 

A silence hung over you two, heavy yet not uncomfortable, lingering in your bedroom. Chris sat up a little, using your pillows behind him as comfort as he raked his hair back, sweat-slick all over, much like you. You held the blanket right up to your chest, hair in disarray, much like your heart. The poor organ threatened to collapse at the events.

Sneakily, you caught a glance at the greatest criminal in London, staring off at the distance, mouth set in a concentrated line. He looked dashing even in his post-sex state, the lines of his chest still stark against his sweat. You truly had never seen a man this beautiful in your life. 

He turned his head to you, catching your staring, and when you tried to look away he captured his chin with his fingers, making you meet his fierce stare. Although dark, the lust had satiated, and instead held passive affection. Well, you hoped it did.

“Why do you still look away?” He demanded in a low, tired voice.

You tried to slide your gaze to the lamp, but was too bewitched by his midnight eyes. “Because you’re beautiful, Chan,” you answered, feeling the blood rush to your face. 

He cocked his head, damp curls sticking to his face. “You say that as if you are not,” he countered. 

You did not say anything then. Even so, he received your answer. 

“____,” he said in a low tone. The grip on your chin loosened, and the hand went to your cheeks, cupping your face. “You are truly flawless. Don’t make me have to make you believe that.”

A small smile hinted at your lips. “And what if I still don’t?”

His answering smirk sent butterflies tumbling once again. After a moment, as if hesitating, he then snaked his arm around you, pulling you closer to him. You were surprised when his one hand fully encircled you, while the other hand, the tattooed hand, rested upon your head, stroking your hair with his slender fingers. You did not pull away, was never going to, only wrapping your arm across his chest. 

It was the first time you had ever seen Christopher Bang hug someone in his life.

“Chan?” You asked.

“Hmm?”

“Why did you get that tattoo?”

He paused for a minute, never ceasing his fingers intertwined in your locks. After a small sigh, which you felt beneath your own fingertips, he said, “It is simply something I live by. 

“Non ducor duco. No one will lead me, love. Only myself.”

You pondered over the roots of this phrase, of the significance for the man you lay with. 

“Good,” you said after a while. “I wouldn’t want anyone leading you either.”

With that, you gave into the soothing movement of Chris’ fingers, working lazily in your hair. And while you dozed off to sleep, the criminal mastermind of the biggest city in the world pondered some more, specifically over his motto.

NON DUCOR DUCO. A phrase which had stayed true for so long no one could ever change it.

But after tonight, as you slowly dozed off under Chris’ caresses, he wondered whether there isn’t one person he wouldn’t mind being led by. 

And as he stole a soft glance at the specific person beside him, he knew. 

He knew that although he will be led by no man, there is one woman who he would, to his own shock, happily be led for. 

So, with that new, and slightly terrifying revelation, Christopher Bang went to sleep, knowing that someone had fucked with him and gotten away. 

And he was willingly going to let it happen. 

#stray kids imagines #stray kids smut #bang chan smut #bang chan imagines #stray kids dark hours #bang chan #stray kids #stray kids oneshot #kpop imagines #kpop smut #skz imagines #skz smut #chris bang #christopher bang #skz dark hours

[cafeinthemoon]

Madara with s/o who works as a maid and is very shy 😳

When anon requested this, I just couldn’t say no because I never get tired of this trope! I absolutely love it! Besides it reminds me of part of the dynamics between Madara and reader in my own fic, The Leaves of Her Garden, so it makes things easier XD

So the idea is that reader is very shy and works as a maid on the Uchiha compound, precisely at the head’s house, and Madara takes a liking to her. How would he act in such situation? Let’s find out!

Fandom: Naruto | Madara Uchiha

Symbols: 💗 | ◻ | ▶▶

(I’m sorry but it HAD to be this gif okay)

Before you were sent to work at the head’s house, you’ve already heard people’s comments about Madara Uchiha

Besides the fact that he was an incomparably skilled shinobi, there was this idea that he was an unusual man

You never paid much attention to this; your opinion was that as the head of an important clan he had the right to maintain his quirks

Things only changed after your first days working as a maid in his house

He was both scary and interesting as a person, just like you were told

And since you were so shy that you always had a hard time talking to strangers, it was incredible that you managed to communicate with such man when necessary

What you didn’t expect was to catch his attentions without doing nothing to deserve them

On his side, it started as mere curiosity

Madara always observed carefully what (and who) he had around him, so he didn’t take long to distinguish you from other servants

You were never seen wandering around, neglecting your tasks, and didn’t have the bad habit of gossiping

To be honest, you were barely seen around any people

You were always occupied with something, and never left your place until your work was done

But sometimes you would stop for a moment to appreciate things around you like the sunlight, the morning breeze touching your face or a bird singing, to which you would smile

Those were the moments when your beauty reached its apex

Everything about you just reinforced this idea of a young and pretty girl who was gentle and had good manners but seemed to have no friends

How was that even possible? He needed to find out

So he started to approach you, and realized you were just shy

The way you reacted to his sudden appearances in the rooms you were working at, or when he crossed your way on the house’s porch was a diversion to him

The way you suppressed your scream when you recognized him, your cheeks as red as his Sharingan,while you did your best to greet him with the appropriate words… all of this was just adorable

“Good morning… Madara-sama”, “Goodnight, Madara-sama”, “Excuse me, Madara-sama, but I have to go back to work”

There was that time when you were carrying a bucket full of water and you almost dropped it when he appeared and greeted you, but he caught it from your hand in time

You tried to grab the bucket back and follow your way, but he wouldn’t let you until you give him a good reason on why you were on a rush early in the morning

“The rooms will not leave their places if you slow down just a little bit, y/n-san”, he advised you with a smirk

The look you gave him after hearing this was something he wouldn’t forget. Didn’t you know he was capable of joking as any other person?

When he started to try and turn these brief greetings into actual conversations, he has already noticed that you were fleeing from him

Which wasn’t exactly a surprise: he was used to terrify people with his mere presence

However, were you in fact afraid of him? Or were you trying to dismiss him without being rude? Or did you think those meetings were inappropriate since you were just a maid, not even a ninja to be considered worthy of his attention?

Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter: he was determined to have you

There was something indescribable in all of this, something irresistible, to think that you were so different, so apart from him and yet you were there, oblivious to the fact that you’ve been occupying his thoughts whenever he let his mind wander… That situation was both funny and ridiculous

He was more skilled, more experienced, stronger than you in all senses

He could use both his privilege and his abilities to do anything he wanted: to isolate you, to make you fall for him, to convince you to let him take you, to kill you or to get rid of you

Still, he couldn’t dream of doing any of these things

You were so pure, so sweet and innocent that the slightest idea of harming you was disgusting to him

Sometimes he would laugh at himself because of this: who would imagine that the person capable of stopping Madara Uchiha wasn’t but a young maid whose mission was to clean the floor of his house?

He even started to reshape your routine in order to get closer to you

One day, when you came to do your daily tasks, part of the work was already done. You found that strange, but didn’t question anything; you just finished the rest and left earlier

This started to happen everyday. Besides it, Madara started to make small favors to you, such as carrying heavy buckets, leaving things organized to make your work easier, etc.

It was also common that you would meet Madara during your “free” time

He seemed to always know where to find you even before you get to the place, and if you were the one who met him first, he would never let you leave without exchanging at least one word with him

During these conversations, he would make questions about your life, the places you would go on your days off, your hobbies, your family and friends

You would do your best to be discreet, but you always found yourself talking more than you wanted or would do with anyone else

It was something in the way he made the questions: Madara had a talent to take all the information he wanted from people

On the other hand, he rarely talked about himself, and whenever you asked something to him, his answers were always brief and never gave room to second questions

Despite your shyness, you started to feel strangely at will to speak your mind to him. It was like he could understand anything you wanted to express, even when you used just a few words

It was hard to explain what was happening between you

As the days passed, Madara no longer talked to you using the -san. Instead, he would call you directly by your name, and sometimes he would just start speaking without calling you first, because you would simply know that he was talking to you

Not only he was working hard to establish a connection with you, but he also started to pay close attention to the other people’s behavior towards you

One day, he casually heard two women talking and one of them mentioned your name, making a slightly spicy comment, something about you being too pretty for your own good

The next day she didn’t show up to work, and when people questioned about this, it was said that she was sent to other part of the compound

There was also an occasion when Madara saw you talking to a young man during lunch time. The man was a friend of your family, which explained your cheerful tone while talking to him

Something in this bothered him in an unexplainable way. You were so different from yourself around that man, so loud! Was he just your friend, or was he something more?

Next time you met this man, you sensed he wasn’t at will in your presence

When you asked if everything was okay, he said that he was just a bit sad because he was leaving that part of the compound to work on another one, far from there

You never found out the entire story, which was: this friend of yours really liked you and was planning to ask you out, but this somehow came to Madara’s knowledge and he ~discretely~ told him that he had other plans for you. The man couldn’t compete with the head of the clan, so he thought it was better for him to leave

Exaggerated? Yes. Dishonest? More or less. Questionable? Totally

But you never knew about this, and Madara intended to leave things like this

Now that his way was free again, he could concentrate in bringing you even closer

Sometimes he used to take walks at the gardens alone

He started to bring you with him, where you would maintain the same type of conversations you already had

During these walks, he would make you impressive yet gentle gestures like throwing a kunai to cut a flower from a high branch and give it to you or using his Katon to create a bonfire if you start to shiver in the cold evening breeze

You would both sit at the grass and talk or just stare at the sunset in silence

These moments felt like a loop in time, and going back to the house was like waking up from a dream

After some time, you couldn’t say you didn’t know the reason behind all of this: Madara has taken a liking to you and was using all he got to win your affection

The truth is that you started to have feelings for him as well

But unlike him, who was allowed to do as he pleased, you were a servant in his house; you two belonged to different worlds, despite being part of the same clan

So you never dared open up about your feelings, no matter how close he got

S you thought that maybe if you didn’t give him any encouragement, he would give up on you soon

Well, that’s not what happened. If you knew him better, you wouldn’t be surprised with this

One night, during a walk, he stopped and openly spoke about his feelings and intentions

You did your best to remain composed while you listened to him, and when your time to speak came, you used all the expected arguments to dissuade him of such madness

Maybe you were too gentle and thus not convincing, or maybe there was no reason to resist, but Madara dismissed all your objections with no difficulties

You were just a maid? You were an Uchiha, that’s what you were. You were not a shinobi? Many women weren’t and they married shinobi men anyway. You weren’t worthy of his love? He was the one who decides what he would love or hate, not you. The elders and his brother would never accept you? Well, they didn’t have to accept anything, since you would be on his bed, not theirs

By now it was clear that nothing you could say was going to change his mind, but you still tried one last time

“I am too shy, too simple, Madara-sama… Someone like me would never look good beside you!”

He smiled as to dismiss this frail attempt of yours, and for the first time tried a physical approaching: he held your hand and made you come closer, passing his arms around you

“I know you’re shy, y/n-san. You don’t need to tell me. But let me tell you that I love your quietness, your shyness, your simplicity. Do you know what I’ve heard people saying about you? That you are too pretty for your own good. And I totally agree” and approaching your ear, “I can’t imagine a place where you would look better than by my side”

You felt a tear rolling through your face after hearing that

So, if nothing would make him give up on you, it wasn’t fair for you to give up on him as well

You accepted his embrace and revealed your thoughts and feelings to him, who listened to every word with all the attention he could

When he spoke again, it was to inform you that you were no longer a maid, but his quiet and beloved fiancee 💞

#naruto request #madara #madara x reader

[gwynrielendgame]

Gwyncien part 4

TW: Mentions of SA, violence, and dark thematic elements. This is not any worse than acosf, so if you read that and I’m assuming you did if you’re a gwynriel fan haha, then this fanfic probably won’t bother you.

There will be one more part after this and it’s partially written, so hopefully it’ll be up soon. Thank you for all the support I have received over this. It really motivates me to keep writing.

"Do you see the male with the long dark hair, blue jacket?" Lucien pointed to a window in a tavern. Gwyn followed his line of sight before nodding. "That was the general of the raid. He left soon after the cauldron leg had been retrieved. He still managed to enjoy himself according to rumors, but he left before Azriel even got there."

Gwyn was unsure how Lucien came across this intel. Part of her wanted to question him, but did not think it was appropriate given that she was planning to kill that male nonetheless. She was unsure if she could recognize him or not given the distance. She figured she would not be able to though. Azriel killed all the men directly involved in her trauma, but there were many young priestesses there that day and many of them shared the same fate as her. Some of those soldiers had escaped Azriel's fury. Gwyn made a promise to herself that they would not escape hers. She shifted her stance so that she was kneeling instead of crouching. Leaves rustled under her which earned a cringe from Lucien. They were currently spying on the Hybern general from a forested hill. Apparently, the male frequented this tavern enough for Lucien to find him. Gwyn questioned whether he was solely Tamlin's emissary or if he did a variety of work. He was much better at spying than she initially figured.

"Do you want me to handle this one?" He asked warily. He knew why Gwyn wanted to do this, but he also understood if she would not be able to follow through.

"No." She shook her head while whispering. "I need to do it."

They continued to watch inside the tavern. The male was drinking quite a bit and was being a bit obnoxious from what Gwyn could tell.

"It's time." Lucien interrupted her careful observations. She looked towards him curiously. "At this time every Friday night, he steps outside to smoke his pipe. Supposedly, his wife finds the smell horrendous and requires that he step outside for it. You will be able to catch him alone if you wait by that back door in the alley." She followed his finger to find it pointing at a door to the side of the tavern. She shuddered a little at the fact that this male had a wife. Gwyn wondered if she knew what type of man she had married. She hesitated.

"What if this goes poorly, Lucien? I cannot live through Sangravah again." She sounded desperate and she knew it. Gwyn wanted affirmation that she would never be powerless again.

"It won't." He reminded her. "But I will be watching from here the entire time. I will not allow anything bad to happen. First sign of trouble and I will be by your side before you can blink." He grabbed her hand from where he knelt beside her and squeezed. She looked into his eyes and her nerves began to fall away. That one russet eye, so similar to Catrin's, put her at ease. "Hurry. Or you will miss your chance." He let go of her hand.

Before she left, she placed her invoking stone on her head at Lucien's insistence. It would give her an advantage and she would take all that she could get right now. She started to utter a prayer. It was one that she read in a random book about the rules and rituals of warriors from different cultures. This one originated from the Illyrians.

"For the honor and glory of the Mother, for the safety and freedom of my kingdom, and for the respect and love of my family."

She stood up and slowly began to descend the hill as quietly as possible. It was difficult considering the leaves were still brittle from the cold. She pulled her cloak tighter around her as the icy wind whipped around. Soon enough she was near the door. She plastered herself to the wall, concealing herself in the shadows. It made her miss her mate and his shadows. She remained quiet as the male loudly stumbled out. She spent a few moments observing him. He was tall and physically imposing, similar to Cassian in that way. Gwyn knew that was the only similarity the two males shared though. His hair was longer than hers and tied back out of his face. Sweat collected on his face as he pulled out his pipe.

"Do you remember me?" It was all Gwyn could muster, but it startled the man. He looked towards the shadows she was hiding in. She certainly did not recognize him. There was so much chaos during the raid that her memory only had room to process so much. She was glad she could not remember anything more, could not remember what this specific man did.

"I dunno darling. I can't see you." The disgusting smirk on his face made her decision easier.

He was handsome that much she could tell. It made her feel so much worse for some reason. Perhaps she wished his outsides matched his insides. She quietly pulled her hood down while she stepped into the light, making eye contact with the male. His eyes hardened as they caught on her invoking stone and his stance was no longer relaxed. It was all Gwyn needed to know that Lucien's intel was good. She thought she might feel more fear or maybe more overwhelming anxiety. It was the typical response she had around harmless men, so she expected to feel it even more so now. However, all she felt was disgust. Looking at this male made her skin crawl. She wondered how long his list of unconsenting females was. Her grip tightened on silver majesty as her resolve hardened.

"Came back for round two?" He sneered as he lit his pipe. Clearly deciding she was no threat.

"Actually, I need your help with a decision." She should not toy with him this way, but his comment grated her just enough. She took a step toward him, waiting for the anxiety to bloom. When it did not, she cocked her head to the side as if she was analyzing him. He looked at her in expectation, but did not verbally respond.

"I was planning on killing you tonight. I think it might be more torturous for you though if I let you live without a certain appendage. Thoughts?" She lifted a singular eyebrow while a smirk played at her lips. Her face may have looked amused, but she did not feel that way. Truthfully, she wanted this over with. The statement did not have the desired effect, however. The male began to laugh so deeply that he was bent over, his pipe forgotten. The profuse arrogance provoked her into action.

Before he could react, she slammed her dagger into the side of his thigh- just barely missing an important artery. His scream of pain should not have brought her joy. Gwyn was aware that it was wrong to find pleasure in anyone's pain. This was different though. Her rage began to consume her, engulf her. Suddenly, she was back in Sangravah. She was not helpless this time, though. She could stop this male. She could stop all the males. A sharp pain to her temple brought her back from her flashback. The male had recovered and slapped her away from him. Unfortunately, her dagger was still lodged in his thigh.

"Fucking bitch." Is all he muttered as he launched himself at her.

He mistook her for a meek priestess who shied away from any negative emotion. She would never be that priestess again. Instead, she allowed her anger to consume her. She ducked under his arms and quickly turned around, kicking him in the back in the process. He was slow, poorly trained even for a general, and drunk. Gwyn would continue to toy with him even if it was just to satisfy some sick need for revenge. This death would not be quick for him. He stumbled back to his feet as he ripped her dagger from his thigh. He wiped blood from his nose from crashing into the building face first and waited for Gwyn to make the next move. She could be patient though.

"You never answered. Which do you prefer? Your life or your cock?" That vulgar word had never left her mouth before but she refused to give that away with a blush. He managed a smirk.

"You tell me. Would you prefer your life or my cock? Cause that's the only way you will be leaving here alive."

She saw red. It was like her body went on auto-pilot. She knew what she was doing, but there was no way to stop. She hurled herself at him, knocking her dagger out of his hand. She sent her knee to his crotch which he managed to block somewhat. He still let out a groan. With his face closer in range, she jammed her thumbs into his eyes. Before she could do too much damage though, he was shoving her away. She fell to the ground, but quickly propelled herself back to him. He did not even have time to recover before she was back and this time with her dagger. She shoved Silver Majesty through the center of his palm. His screams and groans were powering her to continue. He deserved this she found herself repeating like a mantra in her head. He caught her off guard with a strong kick to the ribs, but after the initial surprise she was swinging her dagger back at him. Luckily for him, he managed to dodge her swing that was headed for his eye. He grabbed her by her cloak and dragged her to him from behind. His arm wound itself around her neck. She was struggling to breath which is when she slammed the dagger that was still in her hand that lay unguarded by her side into his crotch. He immediately pulled away to grab himself. As he hunched over, sending explicit curse after explicit curse her way, she took a few lungfuls of air. Blood poured from his crotch so she knew she hit her mark. He fell to his knees and continued to scream. Gwyn, suddenly, remembered where she was. Why was no one rushing out to help him? His screams were loud enough for all to hear in the Tavern. Perhaps even his loved ones knew he deserved this. She approached him, grabbing his hair and pulling his head back. She put her dagger to his neck and before she could drag it across, he began to splutter excuses.

"Wait, wait! You can take it. Cut it off, burn it if you must, but I want to live." He pleaded. She turned up her nose in disgust. He had no honor and no shame.

"Sorry. Offer expired." And then she slit his throat. Pulling her hood up and cleaning off her dagger, she quietly trekked her way back to Lucien- attempting to remain unseen.

She thought she might feel sad or anxious or upset with herself. She had killed before- in the blood rite. That had been in the name of self-defense, though. This time she committed pre-meditated murder against a seemingly helpless male, although she knew better. She should be ashamed with herself, but if she was being honest, she felt powerful. She knew that no man would ever have that power and control over her again and this very moment proved that. She could not stop the sly smile that lifted the edges of her mouth. She was a force to be reckoned with and she would let every Hybern soldier involved in that raid know it.

***

Gwyn slid her dagger across his throat once more. Blood poured out and the limp body fell with a thud. Gwyn had been chasing the high of her first kill, but with each new fallen Hybern soldier, Gwyn felt further and further from control. Logically, she knew they deserved to die. She just no longer felt the power she originally possessed after her first kill. She had felt liberated, now she felt trapped by her revenge. It seemed to be an endless cycle. This was only the third Hybern soldier, but Gwyn did not know if she should continue. It felt like a betrayal to the other priestesses from Sangravah. She did not know if this would ever stop otherwise though. There would always be some vile male who deserved death and some beaten female who deserved to be avenged. Gwyn wiped her blade clean on the male's jacket and adjusted her invoking stone that had been knocked askew in the struggle before walking away. She lifted her hood to hide her face as she quietly slipped off to where Lucien was waiting. To his credit, he offered to kill the soldiers himself. The idea became more and more appealing as Gwyn's emotions sucked the life out of her.

"You okay?” Lucien asked once the priestess began to approach him. She pulled her hood away and simply nodded, quietly grabbing his arm. It was her subtle way of tell him she was ready to leave. After one long look, Lucien winnowed them back. Instead of the castle though, they were at a lake. It was beautiful, but definitely presided in the spring court. Gwyn sent a surprised look to the male.

“Should we be here?”

“I have no doubt that you single handedly could take on Tamlin.” Lucien responded with a sly smile. It broke some of the tension hanging in Gwyn’s mind. She plopped down at the edge of the lake to shimmy her boots off. Lucien followed suit and then they were sitting side by side with their feet in the lake. It was beautiful. It made her wish Catrin could see it.

“What troubles you, granddaughter?” He was trying to make her laugh and it worked. A small chuckle left her throat before a heavy sigh. She grabbed his hand and squeezed.

“I thought this might take back some of the control I lost, but it just makes me feel...” she took such a long pause that Lucien had to nudge her to continue. “Like they have won. It is just another part of me they control. As long as I am controlled by the need for revenge, I am controlled by them. Do you know what I mean?” She looked at him to find any sort of understanding in his eyes. He did understand- more than she could ever know. He had also been controlled by his need for revenge at one point in his life.

“I can finish it for you. Just say the word.” He would do it for her because he wanted to. He wanted to protect her when he failed so spectacularly in the past.

“I thought I could not travel a world, escape the library, if men like those Hybern soldiers existed. But those men will always exist. I think I need to accept that rather than killing my way through the problem.” She swished her feet back and forth through the water. The truth is, she was able to leave the library even with those men existing. Lucien had shown her a great many things, including this lake, that made her want to see the whole world despite her fears. Perhaps that was the best revenge anyways.

“Whatever you decide, I will support you no matter what.” He rested his head on her shoulder, drinking up the scene before they would inevitably have to leave again. He had not been here since his time with Feyre and Tamlin, and the experience was bitter sweet. It was beautiful though, and he knew Gwyn would love it.

“Thank you, Lucien.”

***

Azriel had been putting off this conversation for the last 500 years and did not particularly want to bring it up now, but enough is enough. He needed to move on with his life. He did not think he would be able to until this conversation was finished. He eventually found the beautiful blonde immersed in conversation with Emerie at the House of Wind library. A clear of his throat caught both of their attention.

“Hi Az.” Emerie gave a slight smile which he returned before looking at Mor. She looked beautiful in a revealing red dress and curled hair. He wondered where she might be going tonight to be so dressed up. Especially considering Emerie was still wearing her training leathers. Clearly, they did not have plans together for tonight.

"Mor, can we talk?" He turned his slight smile to her. She gave him a brilliant smile back. It did not seem to have the same effect on him as it once did though.

"Of course! I feel like I have not seen you at all recently." She gave Emerie a hug before walking past the Shadowsinger and into the kitchen for more privacy. It was not nearly the amount of privacy he wanted for this conversation, but he would make do. His shadows used this time to abandon him when more than anything he wanted their comfort.

"Why?" Was all he could muster. His cheeks already turning a slight pink. He leaned onto his forearms using the counter from the island for support. Mor stood on the opposite side of the island. She crossed her arms over her chest a bit defensively.

"Why what?" She asked with a frown.

"Why won't you give me a chance? There are times when you seem interested and then there are times when you seem interested in Cassian." He explained further. The look on Mor’s face told him that she wanted this conversation to happen as much as he did. They had avoided it long enough though.

"Az..." she began with a long sigh but trailed off. She refused to look at him now, choosing to stare at the floor instead.

"What?" He did not think it was an unfair question to ask, but apparently she did.

"I don't want to talk about this."

"That's not fair. If there's a real chance for us I want to know. But if you just like having two Illyrians attention rather than just one I'd rather you leave me out of it." It was harsh and a low blow. That did not make it less true. Sometimes he felt that the reason she refused to turn him down outwardly was because she liked the attention. Or she liked having someone stand up for her against Rhysand when he did something she did not like. Azriel was growing tired of their current situation. It needed to change before he started to resent her for it.

"That's not fair either, Az! You're my friend. I don't owe you a relationship." She yelled in outrage. She finally looked up at him and he could see the rage burning there. Guilt began to claw at him.

"You are right, you don't. But you know my feelings on the matter and you continue to lead me on. Or maybe you're confused too. I don't know but that's why I want to talk this through. Just tell me what you're thinking." A long pause ensued after that. The fire burning in her eyes slowly eased away. She moved to sit on top of the island next to him with his stance unchanging.

"Technically, there could be a chance for us. I just don't want to take it. Our friendship means too much to me and..." she muttered while trailing off. Now he was definitely confused. Why wouldn’t she want to take the chance? What was so wrong with him that stopped her from wanting to try a relationship?

"And?" He pushed her to explain further.

"And I think I prefer females. That's why I don't want to take a chance on this. It'll only end badly."

"Oh." He stood up and looked Mor over throughly. She was not dressed up for some party tonight he finally realized. She was trying to impress Emerie. And suddenly, he felt very stupid. He also felt a bit of relief. All this time he was trying to discover what he lacked for her to pass him over for Cassian- what he needed to change to be good enough. Nothing, apparently, given that he could not magically turn into a female.

"Oh?" She gave him a cautious look as though he was some rabid animal who might bite. He realized why she could never have been his mate in that moment. Gwyn had never given Azriel that look.

"Yeah I wish you would have told me sooner. All this time I thought you couldn't decide between Cassian and me." He explained. He could have saved himself so much torment if only he had known. Not that he was blaming her. He was truly blaming himself. He is the spymaster after all, how could he have missed all the stolen glances and longing looks Mor always sent to the females at Rita’s.

"Oh." She repeated what Az had said earlier. She was suddenly very interested in examining her nails.

"Yeah. I am sorry if it seemed that I do not value your friendship. I genuinely thought there was a chance here." He tugged at her chin to make her look at him. He wanted her to see how genuine he was. Mor was one of his oldest friends and he would not let this ruin that.

"I'm sorry I lead you on. If I'm honest, it was partly on purpose. If I keep enough men flaunting after me, It leaves less questions from busybodies." She gave him a sheepish look. Hearing that did not upset him as he thought it might.

"I would do anything to protect you, including lying about a relationship if that's what it took." He would do it now even. It would mean he could not be with Gwyn in the way that he wanted, but he would protect Mor from her father until the end of time.

"I do love you Az. Just perhaps not in the same way." She grabbed his face to look at hers as she said it. He wished she would grab his hands. He let out a long sigh before pulling his face away.

"I love you Mor, but I don't think it's in that way anymore either." She gave him a questioning look that he only shrugged away, moving across the kitchen to put some space between them. He was starting to feel overwhelmed with this heart-to-heart without the comfort of his shadows.

"Really?" She gave him a look that said she did not quite believe him.

"Yeah. I always imagined this moment to be heartbreaking and instead I just feel relieved. Like I finally have the answer to life's question." It was true too. He thought he would never be able to love someone as he had Mor. He realized now that those feelings had been rather superficial. A fantasy he created in his head that felt safe.

"Probably helps that you are mated." She surprised him with that response. He lifted a singular eyebrow as she played with one of the bracelets on her wrist.

"Yes, Az. We all know." She rolled her eyes at this. "But you almost ruined the night courts reputation, risking Lucien's demand of a blood duel, so we figured we might as well let the Elain thing play out on its own." He scoffed at her terrible summary of his actions these past few months.

"I could have used your advice." He replied sarcastically. A single shadow curled around his ear before spotting Mor and disappearing once again. It made him sigh.

"You wouldn't have listened." She insisted. Part of him understood why his family allowed him to hide from his feelings. He was stubborn after all. Sometimes he wished they would push a little harder though. The way that Nesta did. It was why he let her get away with her comments about Rhys- she tried harder with him than any of them did including the high lord.

"I listened to Nesta's." He had already decided that Elain and him could not continue what they were doing after his kiss with Gwyn, but Nesta’s words helped him. Immediately after that conversation he went to talk to Elain, who surprisingly felt the same way.

"Yeah well Nesta and you are two sides of the same coin. Of course you listened to her." He rolled his eyes at that.

"Should I be offended?"

"Yes." They both chuckled. It was quiet for a minute or two before Az spoke up again.

"Thanks for telling me." She nodded before heading back to the library. Azriel finally let out a breathe. His chest no longer tighter with tension. He felt much freer than he had in these past few weeks. It was time to get his girl back.

#gwyncien #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel #lucien vanserra #acotar #acosf #elain archeron #nesta archeron #cassian

[swan-of-sunrise]

Specs and the Flyboy (Chapter Seventeen)

Summary: (Y/N) and Jack follow up on a new lead and make a startling new discovery.

Pairing: Jack Thompson X Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading! I hope that you enjoy!

Chapter Seventeen Kent, England (Previous Chapter)

“Now I remember why I enjoy living in Los Angeles.” (Y/N) grumbled, switching on the windshield wipers and squinting through the down-pouring of rain. “Don’t you just hate the rain sometimes?”

Jack shrugged beside her, his nose buried in a large map as he replied, “Yeah, I guess so. This rain’s pretty tame compared to the stuff we got in the Pacific, though; that was like takin’ a hot shower in the middle of a humid summer. Definitely not something I missed when I shipped back home.”

She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “You’re right, that sounds a whole lot worse. How much farther until the turnoff?”

“It should be coming up in less than a mile-urgh, sorry, kilometer, and it should be somewhere on your left.”

They continued driving through the rain, the comfortable silence between them only permeated by the sounds of the rental car’s radio signal cutting in and out. Their visit to the SFC had been more fruitful than either of them predicted it would; for one, they managed to steal an entire classified file detailing Michael Carter’s undercover mission within Hydra and for another, that file contained not one but two hidden messages. One was in the form of a code while the other had been written in invisible ink; as it turned out, the final code from ‘M. Carter’s’ file that had stumped (Y/N) for so long was actually a cypher for the code on their newly-acquired file. It had taken (Y/N) nearly a week of staring at various number and letter sequences to crack it, only to be left with straightforward coordinates that led directly to Gravesend, Kent.

Unfortunately, the invisible message hadn’t been quite as useful to them; (Y/N) and a slightly-disgusted Jack had used a candle to heat the urine-covered page and reveal a paragraph of code but no matter what she tried, she couldn’t decode it. She and Jack had poured over all her translation journals and brainstormed every possible style of code but it looked like nothing she’d ever seen before; the code didn’t even resemble any of the ones Michael had invented to conceal his intel. Maybe Peggy and I can work on it together once we return to the States, she thought with an inward sigh, frustrated that she couldn’t use the skills she’d spent years honing and perfecting to help further their case.

“You’re kinda quiet over there, Specs. Everything okay?”

Glancing over at the man beside her, (Y/N) nodded and gave him a fleeting smile before turning her attention back to the road, feeling her face beginning to warm at his concerned tone. “Just lost in thought, that’s all.”

Something had shifted between her and Jack after she’d confided in him about Freddie’s death; he’d been more considerate and thoughtful whenever they spoke, a far cry from the smug and self-assured man she’d first met all those months ago, and for nearly a week now they’d slept together in the same bed. They’d often joke that it was because their hotel suite was too drafty but (Y/N) knew that it was really because sharing a bed had resulted in the best sleep either of them had experienced in a long while. When their unspoken arrangement had first begun, she’d warned herself not to get used to it but she’d failed spectacularly in that regard; as much as she wanted to solve the case for Peggy’s sake, she was dreading the day when Jack would inevitably return to his old life as Chief of the New York SSR and she’d be left alone once again.

“You sure you’re okay? You’ve got that little line between your eyebrows that you only get whenever you’re worried ‘bout something.” (Y/N) looked over at him in surprise and he merely shrugged. “It’s another one of your tells, Specs, along with fidgeting your hands.”

“Geez, remind me never to play poker with you.” She chuckled to herself before looking back at the road. “I was just thinking about these coordinates. Why would Michael bother coding the coordinates of a small town like Gravesend?

Her partner shrugged beside her. “I’ve got no idea, but that’s why we’ve come prepared for anything.” He patted the shoulder holster that was hidden underneath his navy-colored raincoat; her own gun was tucked into her clutch, alongside her various lock-picking tools, her tube of 103-Forget Me Not lipstick and the camera-pen Howard had lent her before they’d left Los Angeles.

In no time, they reached the small town of Gravesend and the heavy rain had thankfully lightened to a faint drizzle as she parked the car. There weren’t many people outside but just to be on the safe side, (Y/N) and Jack walked arm-in-arm down the sidewalk, looking every part the happily married couple; their cover allowed them to easily observe and investigate the town without drawing suspicion, and to keep up appearances, they engaged in small talk as they walked but their focus was entirely on their reconnaissance…well, almost entirely.

“I’m serious, Flyboy, I think it’s very sweet that you call your grandmother ‘Gam-Gam!’” (Y/N) insisted, watching as her partner’s blush deepened. The nickname had slipped out when he’d made an offhand comment about one of the houses looking like his grandmother’s, much to his embarrassment and her amusement. “Listen, would it make you feel better if you knew that I have a special nickname for my grandmother? If I tell you what it is, though, you’d better not blabber to anyone else in the office about it…”

Jack raised a challenging brow at her. “Okay, then. What do you call your grandmother?”

“I call her ‘Ram’, because when I was little I couldn’t pronounce certain letters very well.” Her own face flushed as Jack’s azure eyes twinkled with amusement. “There, are you happy now?”

“Yeah, pretty much. I just…” He trailed off, his expression growing serious as he nodded his head towards something in the distance. “I think we just found out why these coordinates are important, Specs.”

Furrowing her brow in confusion, (Y/N) followed his line of sight and nearly gasped aloud at what she saw; at the end of the street stood a sign that read ‘Attwell Airfield’ and an arrow pointing towards the right. “Well, I’ll be damned…” She looked up at Jack and quirked her brow. “How do you feel about a little snooping around?”

“You took the words right outta my mouth.”

When they were sure that no one was looking their way, (Y/N) and Jack made their way down the end of the road and turned right; they walked down the road for several meters before they came across a small path that led off into a line of trees and bushes. Exchanging a look, they followed the path and slowly made their way through the vegetation towards the direction of the airfield.

“Strange that an airfield was never mentioned in any of the files we got on Thomas Attwell,” Jack commented, his eyes scanning their surroundings for any signs of trouble. “You think it’s new?”

“It’s possible. If I were heading the new Secret Empire, I’d certainly want a private means of traveling.” Shrugging, (Y/N) ducked underneath a low-hanging tree branch and glanced over at her partner walking beside her. “It’s also possible that it’s been around for a while now. Thomas Attwell’s brother was an R.A.F. pilot during the war, remember? It could be family-owned, like the orangery back in Los Angeles.”

They continued their trek through the forest of trees, soon reaching the edge of the vegetation; careful to conceal themselves behind the trunk of a wide tree, they examined the airfield; it was on the small side, similar to descriptions she’d heard of the one Howard owned in New Jersey. The airfield’s hangar was only a few dozen meters away from the tree line but from their spot, it was impossible to see if any planes were situated inside of it.

Just as (Y/N) opened her mouth to suggest they get a closer look, two men dressed in tactical gear and holding rifles rounded both corners of the hangar; they passed by each other right in front of the building’s back door and disappeared around each corner. When she looked over at Jack, he was alternating between looking down at his wristwatch and back up at the corners the two guards had appeared from; without glancing away from his task, her partner quietly asked, “How fast can you pick a lock?”

“Between two and five minutes, depending on the type of lock.”

He nodded. “That’ll have to do. When I give the signal, follow my lead.”

The two of them waited with bated breath until finally, the guards appeared around the corners again. They remained still as the two guards disappeared from view, only moving when Jack motioned with his hand to go; they quietly hurried to the hangar’s back door, and (Y/N) knelt down in front of it to determine which tools she’d need while Jack kept watch beside her with his gun at the ready. It was a sturdier lock than the one she’d picked at Fieldman Family Orangery – obviously she’d need to use something better than a hairpin – but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. Hurriedly rifling through her crowded purse, she selected the appropriate tools and quickly went about picking the lock, her brow furrowed in deep concentration. After a tense minute or two, the door unlocked with a faint click; since she knew that their time was running out, she jumped to her feet and followed Jack through the doorway, careful to close the door shut behind them.

“Storage room,” Jack lowly stated, his gun at the ready as they crept between rows of plane components and mechanic’s tools; careful not to make any noise, (Y/N) pulled her gun and camera pen out of her clutch before cramming it into her raincoat’s pocket. “This way.”

He led them through the storage room and through an open doorway into a larger, less cluttered space; the cavernous room was nearly empty save for a row of large wooden crates, the sides of which were stamped with the familiar horse-and-vine symbol of the new Secret Empire. Once they made their way over to the crates, Jack holstered his gun and carefully pried the lid off of one of them.

“Looks like we’ve finally found all that stolen gold.” (Y/N) glanced up from the stacked and marked gold bars, meeting her partner’s gaze with a raised brow; he nodded and watched as she used the camera pen to take several pictures, replacing the lid while she tucked the camera pen into her other pocket.

The sound of approaching footsteps forced the two of them to hastily drop behind the crate, and they both held their breaths as a man called out, “Okay, this is the last of it; you guys go grab the others while I let the boss know we’re about done loading the plane.”

“C’mon, let’s move.” Jack quietly spoke as the voices and footsteps faded away, and they both hurried across the large room to a set of metal stairs; since they couldn’t go the same way the voices were coming from, they immediately climbed the stairs and ducked into the room behind the windowed door. When it was clear that they were alone, they lowered their guns and took in their surroundings; the room was on the smaller side, with a desk pushed against one wall laden with various radio equipment and papers, and across from it was a massive window. “All clear; looks like a radio room.”

Already reaching into her pocket for her camera pen, (Y/N) tiptoed to the desk and examined the papers strewn across its surface; there were several telegrams and documents but what instantly drew her attention was a marked map, the edges of which were filled in with sequences of random numbers.

“They’re loading it into a cargo plane,” She looked over to where Jack stood by the windows and met his concerned gaze. “All that gold’s gonna be headed somewhere real soon and I’d bet anything it’s going to Leviathan. We need to find out exactly where that plane’s going, fast.”

Careful not to disturb any of the papers too much, (Y/N) began snapping photographs of them with the camera pen. She was in the middle of taking a photograph of the unusual map when all of a sudden, the sound of a gunshot echoed throughout the hangar and was soon punctuated by the shattering of the radio room’s window, causing her entire body to freeze up in shock.

“Get down!” Jack shouted out and before she could even think to move, he tackled her to the floor and covered her body with his own as more gunshots rang out and glass rained down on them. Raising his head a few inches, her partner’s eyes frantically searched hers and his free hand shot up to shield her face from more shattering glass. “Are you hit?”

“I’m fine, but we need to go!” They both crawled over to the window once he rolled off of her, mindful of the glass while they both clutched their guns in their hands. Their backs were pressed against the wall and gunshots continued to ring out as (Y/N) got an idea. “You go back around to the hangar while I draw their fire!”

Jack didn’t look too happy about it but since there was no time to argue he nodded, keeping low to the ground as he made his way to the radio room’s door. She moved so that she stood beside the broken window and waited until Jack left the room to peek around the window’s edge and opening fire, managing to hit two guards before she was forced to duck for cover.

“Dammit, these guys just don’t quit.” (Y/N) grumbled to herself, darting around to fire off a couple more shots and moving back just in time to avoid the fresh barrage of bullets. She didn’t dare look, but she heard the sounds of a scuffle breaking out in the hangar below and assumed that it was Jack taking care of the guards. He certainly took his time there, she thought as she finally released the breath she’d been holding.

“Well, you’re certainly not who I expected to see.” Whirling around, (Y/N) raised her gun at the smirking dark-haired woman standing in the open doorway; the woman’s brow rose, seemingly unperturbed by the gun pointed directly at her chest. “That’s too bad, I’d hoped that Peggy and I would get a chance to catch up.”

A chill went down (Y/N)’s spine at her words and her fingers tightened around the handle of her gun. “Dottie Underwood. So, it’s true, you’ve begun working for the Secret Empire.”

Dottie smirked. “Begun? Oh, honey, we’ve been friendly for quite a while now, ever since they commissioned me to steal from a New York bank’s safety deposit box.”

“The Arena Club pin? The Secret Empire was behind that?”

The Russian spy rolled her eyes in obvious exasperation. “Yes, that’s what I just said. You SSR types are pretty dense, aren’t you?”

“Not dense, just very thorough.” (Y/N) held her gun higher. “Dorothy Underwood, you’re under arrest.” With a quirk of her brow, Dottie took a step forward. “If you take another step, I won’t hesitate to shoot you.”

“Do you wanna hear a secret, Agent (Y/L/N)? You’re all out of bullets.”

Squeezing the trigger of her gun, (Y/N)’s eyes widened in surprise when it only made a faint click. Dottie took full advantage of her shock, kicking the gun out of her hand and striking her hard in the stomach with her heeled shoe; (Y/N) flew backwards and landed hard on her back, and she scrambled to her feet as the Russian assassin moved in for another attack. (Y/N) blocked her punch and yanked her down before kneeing her in the torso. Recovering quickly, Dottie backhanded her face and grabbed her arm, flipping her over her shoulder and onto her back once again.

The wind was instantly knocked out of (Y/N)’s lungs and while she laid their coughing, Dottie stood over her with a taunting smirk on her face. “You’re too easy; Peggy would’ve at least made it a challenge.”

“We’ve got Thompson, Underwood, time to go!”

(Y/N)’s eyes darted over to the radio from where the familiar voice of Thomas Attwell had emitted, fear clutching at her chest as Dottie sighed in disappointment. “It’s been swell, Agent (Y/L/N), but I have a plane to catch.”

With a swift kick to (Y/N)’s side, the Russian assassin snatched up the papers on the desk and quickly fled the room; (Y/N) struggled to get to her feet and once she finally managed it, she clutched her stomach and limped over to the radio room’s broken window. There was a large cargo plane at the opposite end of the hangar, and she watched as Dottie strode up its extended ramp beside Attwell, who was carrying an unconscious Jack Thompson over his shoulder.

“No!”

Ignoring the pain of her injuries, (Y/N) hurried out of the radio room and down the metal stairs, stopping for a brief moment to grab one of the dead guard’s rifles before staggering into the hangar. The plane’s ramp had closed and it was already taxing down the runway; she aimed the rifle at one of the plane’s wheels and fired, cursing when the shot missed. In desperation, (Y/N) ran through the hangar as fast as she could but she was too late, for the plane had already taken off by the time she reached the hangar’s opening.

“Jack…Jack…” (Y/N) gasped out, her vision blurring with tears as she watched the plane disappear into the clouds; she felt something brush her foot and when she looked down, she recognized it as Jack’s fedora. Reaching down, she gently picked it up and after staring at it for several moments, she finally allowed herself to cry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: That ending though...wow. I’m sorry for the cliffhanger but I had to! Thank you guys so much for reading! If you haven’t checked it out yet, I created a Spotify playlist for this series and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/21pWY7OiMFj8LaYpxhtVtW

Chapter Eighteen

“Specs and the Flyboy” Masterlist

Tagging: @nnon-it-up @fluffymadamina @remmyswritings @ourstarsailor @darkusangelus @josis-teacup @marvel-jackt-loki-buck @yeetyeetchickenmeat @sameoldbaby @theserenityspace @seeing-but-not-observing @supervoldejaygent​ @momc95​ @brooke0297​ @kinda-c0nfused​ @outoftheregular  @mads-weasley​

#jack thompson x reader #agent carter #jack thompson #peggy carter #daniel sousa #howard stark #dottie underwood #michael carter #marvel cinematic universe #strategic scientific reserve

[betweenthepages]

Hold Me, Love Me; Dean Forester x Male! Reader

Warnings ⚠️ - mentions of rape, sexual assault

Summary: Dean has difficulty finding a mate due to being different to most omegas. But on one faithful night, he finds someone who will accept him for his differences and give him the life he deserves.

Word count: 3218

Being an omega wasn’t easy. You were the lowest in society, had the least power. If you were unmated, you had to deal alphas staring you down everywhere you went, pure hunger and lust in their eyes. It was sickening. However if you were Dean Forester, life was twice as difficult. Everyone figured he’d present as an alpha, with his steady build and towering height. When he was revealed to be an omega, there were mixed reactions. His friends and family were surprised, but they would accept him no matter what. On the other hand, he got looks of disgust from the townspeople. Omegas were meant to be small, pretty. Not like him.

Dean wished he had a mate. Someone to love him, take care of him and hopefully be the father of his future children. And if he found his soulmate, he’d finally be spared from men whistling at him on the streets or constantly looking over his shoulder while on a late night walk. No one would dare touch a mated omega. There were too many stories of alphas going on a possessive rage when another alpha dare even look at their mate for too long, sometimes it lead to death. Dean was stronger than most omegas, thank god for that but he wasn’t taking any chances.

Unfortunately, the chances of him finding an alpha were slim. No one could love someone like him, or at least that’s what he thought. Even though Dean’s body was different, his personality was very omega-like, something alpha’s would swoon over. He was shy and timid, easily startled. He had a look of innocence in his eye, which increased the common desire to wreck him. He was well mannered and had such a kind soul, always willing to help anyone who needed it. His heart was simply too big for his chest. Of course people took advantage of that sometimes, but he didn’t let a couple mishaps ruin his sweet nature.

Dean stared at the calendar on the wall, his face paling. His heat was in a week. And he was out of suppressants. Panic took over him as he realised he was supposed to start taking them today, as you have to take them every night a week before your heat for them to work. Shit shit shit. His eyes darted to the clock. 11:15 at night. Going out this late by himself was a death wish, but he had no choice. Going through a heat by yourself without medication was unbearable, and he wasn’t willing to go through that. He looked at his outfit in the mirror, making sure his clothes were baggy enough to cover every inch of his body, anything that might tempt alphas.

He took a deep breath, wiping his hands on his jeans. It was just a walk around the block to the pharmacy. Not too far. He’ll be there and back in no time. The icy wind brought goosebumps to his skin. There wasn’t anyone on the street at this hour, at least not anyone in sight. Sometimes alphas would hide in bushes or alleyways and pounce on unsuspecting omegas. The thought made him shudder. He increased his pace, following the light of the dimly lit street lamps.

So far so good. Just a little more and- fuck. There was a dimly lit alleyway he had to pass to get to the store. His blood ran cold. Fear churned in his gut staring into the dark abyss. Anything- anyone could be in there. Was he willing to take the chance? Come on you idiot, you’re just being paranoid. What are you, five? Just walk past it, no big deal. He was brave. He needed those meds, and he has to take the risk. He screwed his eyes shut, walking as fast as he could, ignoring his heart pounding in his chest. When he opened his eyes, he realised the alleyway was behind him. Unimaginable relief filled his chest. Of course there was no one there. He was just scared for nothing.

Suddenly, a pair of footsteps paced behind him. “Hey boys, look what we’ve got here.” His relief was short lived. Very, very short lived. His heart dropped. Four more pairs of footsteps followed. There were more of them. Dean’s first instinct was to run. But his legs felt weak, like he was frozen in place. He was rather agile, but there was a whole group of them. Surely one of them would catch up if he tried to escape. He turned around hesitantly, seeing five males about his age standing there, eyeing him hungrily. “Now what’s a pretty little thing like you doing out this late, hm?” The one in the middle, their leader seemingly, spoke up. Dean wished he could wipe off that disgusting smirk on his face.

“P-Please-” he took a step back, “what do you want? Money? I’ll give it you just leave me alone.” He felt tears well up. No matter how much he tried to reason with them, it was useless. “I think we’ve found our prey tonight.” He said calmly, a dangerous glint in his eye. “Get him.” It all happened so fast. Before he could process it, there were hands all over him, dragging him by the shirt, plunging him into the darkness. No one would find him here, no one would hear his cries for help. Besides, there wouldn’t be anyone else out this late to interfere. This couldn’t be happening. He prayed this was some nightmare and he’d wake up soon. But that wasn’t the case. He was truly helpless.

You sighed, looking up into the pitch black sky. No stars tonight. Pity, you usually liked stargazing in the park at this hour. You usually took long midnight strolls to clear your head. It worked too. An odd sense of peace filled the town’s atmosphere at this hour. Well, the atmosphere lasted until you caught a whiff of the air. A strong scent filled your nose, similar to stench of rain. Your eyes widened when you realised what it was. The smell of an omega in distress. And judging by how prominent it was, the poor thing was in a lot of danger. Most people would’ve turned back and went home, not wanting to get in any trouble. But you couldn’t stand the thought of turning around and acting like nothing happened when someone’s life could be on the line. Doesn’t matter what their status was, they needed help.

You sniffed the air again and you ran to the direction it was coming from. You really hoped you got there in time before something bad happened. Thankfully it wasn’t far, just around the street corner. As you got closer, you realised it was coming from a dark alleyway. Oh. You had a pretty good guess of what was happening right now. You’d heard countless stories of omegas being attacked in places like this. It boiled your blood thinking some alphas could take advantage of others just because of their biological status, something no one could control.

Loud whimpers filled your ears, and in the darkness you could make it a few bodies surrounding a large figure. Your fist clenched. Red filled your vision. It was all a blur. You ran up to one of the guys, knocking him out with one punch. Two others tried to jump on you, but you sent them flying to the wall. You swore you heard a crack at the impact. “G-Guys let’s go.” The group leader figured messing with you wasn’t a good idea. They didn’t hesitate to flee, picking up their unconscious friend along the way.

Now they were out of the way, you had to deal with the figure hunched over on the ground. “Hey-” you reached out a hand, but the person panicked, scambling against the wall. Fear pheromones wafted in the air. You crouched down to their level, slowly inching towards the trembling form. “Shh, I’m not gonna hurt you. Don’t be scared.” Your voice sounded so soft, so genuine, Dean looked up to make eye contact.

Something shifted in you when you gazed into those chocolate orbs. You couldn’t explain the feeling, exactly, only it was intense. And warm. All your senses screamed to you, ‘mate!’ You were stunned. He wished he inflicted more damage on those boys before they left. This was your mate, sitting here in a cold dark alleyway with the living daylights scared out of him. Dean experienced the feeling as well, only afterwards he felt shame. His alpha found him like this, in a pitiful state almost taken by other people. He was weak, easy to use. He whimpered, making your heart clench. Your mate instinct made you want to comfort him, take him into your arms and tell him everything’s alright, that you were here and no one was going to hurt him. But you couldn’t. Not now, at least. The boy had almost been attacked, and now he found his mate. He needed to process the situation.

“What’s your name sweetheart?” You asked gently, hoping the petname would coax him a little. “D-Dean. My name’s Dean.” He sniffled. “I’m (Y/N). Listen, do you want to go back to my place? It’s not too far from here. I won’t try anything, I promise. It’s probably closer than your and I suppose you might need some company tonight.” You looked at him hopefully. “Yes please.” He agreed quietly. You practically saved his life. And you were his mate. He wanted to be near you. “Are you hurt?” You asked worriedly, looking for any injuries. He shook his head no, there were just a couple bruises here and there, nothing too serious. “You’re shivering,” you frowned, wrapping your jacket around him. His eyes widened. He was completely enveloped in your scent. You smelt like cinnamon and honey. It put his mind to ease, calming him immediately.

You took his hand and helped him to his feet, extending an arm to him. He gladly took it, walking close to you. He’d just met you, but you made him feel so safe. You observed his facial features under the moonlight. He was so beautiful. He didn’t look like any other omega you’ve seen before though. He a bit taller than you, admittedly a subtle blow to your ego. But it was cute. The walk home was relatively quiet, understandably so. He was still a little shaken up from what happened, you couldn’t expect to him to act calm.

Your apartment was rather large even though you lived by yourself. You saw Dean looking around the place in awe, which had you biting back a smile at how adorable he was. You thoroughly enjoyed the thought of having him around often. Newly mated couples tended to move in together one or two days after they met because being seperated wasn’t good for their mental state. “Sit down.” You motioned to the coach. He did as told with his hands in his lap, looking up at you shyly through his brown locks. You took your place next to him, wondering where to go from here. “Have you eaten dinner yet?” You asked. He shook his head no. “There’s some soup in the fridge I can heat up for you. You can go shower in the meantime. I’ve got some clothes that might fit. How does that sound?” He nodded. “Thank you.” He said quietly. “No problem.” You smiled back, motioning him to follow you.

The hot water was therapeutic in easing Dean’s tense muscles. An almost disaturous night was slowly turning out for the better. He had a mate- an extremely handsome alpha. The thought made him giddy. Plus you were so, so nice. So far you’d welcomed him to your home and let him borrow your clothes and made him food. You were able to protect him. Nonetheless, he didn’t have time to swoon now, not when dinner had yet to be served. He admired himself in the mirror in the clothes he picked for you. Just a simple black hoodie and sweatpants. They were a little big but he loved them because they were yours.

You had his back turned to him when he entered the kitchen, stirring the pot on the stove. You felt a presence behind you, your eyes landing on the omega. “Food’s almost done.” You said gently. He nodded but stayed put, interested in seeing you cook. “Can I watch you?” Dean asked, fiddling with his sleeve. “Sure thing.” Your next action took him by surprise. He gasped as you lifted him effortlessly and placed him on the countertop, his long legs dangling off the edge.

“So, Dean... How old are you?” You asked, wanting to know more about the boy who’d hardly spoken a full sentence the whole night. “I’m seventeen.” Ah, you’d be just one grade above him. “Oh, I’m eighteen. Do you work anywhere? What do major in?” “I work in a café. My dream job would be to work with animals though. I’m a biology major.” You hummed. The room went silent for a bit. Dean felt like the conversation was all about him and he wasn’t cooperating enough. You’d done so much for him so far and he couldn’t get a word out. He was nervous. Nervous about saying the wrong thing, nervous about rambling. He knew deep down you wouldn’t make fun of him, but his anxiety said otherwise.

“Soup’s ready.” You said, carrying two bowls to the dining table, Dean following suite. The two of you ate in silence, stealing occasional glances at each other. “It’s really good.” Dean said. You smiled warmly. “Glad you like it.” You were genuinely trying your best to make him comfortable and get him to open up. You didn’t want your mate feeling anxious around you.

He helped you with the dishes and before you knew it, it was time for bed. Despite his protests you insisted on taking the couch. As much as you wanted to hold him and cuddle all night, you respected his boundaries. Currently you were seated on the couch since you wanted to discuss something with him. “Dean, do you want to talk about what happened tonight? You don’t have to, but it might make you feel better.” You asked gently, squeezing his hand. Tears welled up in his eyes recounting earlier events. The sheer terror he felt at that moment was indescribable.

“I-I was going to the pharmacy for some medication,” he sniffled, “and those alphas came out of nowhere. I know it my fault for going out that late b-but I really needed those pills and...” If you’d never felt the urge to kill someone, you did now. But you needed to control your anger and comfort your mate. “Sweetie no, this isn’t your fault at all. You shouldn’t have to avoid going out and night just because some bastard alphas can’t keep it in their pants.” He looked up at you, eyes bloodshot with tear tracks running down his cheeks, a sight that made your heart clench. “Can I have a hug alpha?”

“Of course you can.” You brought him to your welcoming arms, Dean burying his face into your chest. You rested your chin on his head, faintly catching the whiff of strawberry shampoo. “Thank you. For everything. For saving me, for letting me stay with you...” His voice came muffled from your shirt. “It’s okay, baby. You’re safe with me now. I’ll protect you.”

━━━━━━。゜✿ฺ✿ฺ゜。━━━━━━

Panic filled Dean when he woke up in a stranger’s bed, unable to recognise anything in the room. Where was he? How did he get here? The bed sheets smelt awfully familiar. Slowly, everything that happened last night came rushing back to him. It occurred to him that he was lying in your bed. His heart swelled at the thought. However, he would prefer if the space beside him wasn’t empty.

You had just started on breakfast by the time he got to the kitchen. He offered to help out and the two of you chatted pleasantly as the golden rays of morning sun peeked through the curtains. You felt joy knowing he was warming up to you. Despite the short period of time you’d known each other, you felt like you’ve known him your whole life. It wasn’t awkward, there was no hesitation from either ends. It felt right.“(Y/N).” You hummed to signal you were listening, not taking your eyes off the frying pan. “You know how I told you I went out to get medication yesterday? They were heat suppressants.”

You turned to him, jaw dropping in shock. Out of all things to come out of his mouth, that was the last of what you expected. There was no problem of course- just short notice. “Oh. You want me to help you through it?” You wiggled an eyebrow suggestively, liking the way his face flushed at your words. “Is that really all you can think of?” Dean whined. “Well it is important to discuss wether I’ll be around or not. Do you want me to help you through it?” Being around an omega in heat was irresistible for an alpha. Even the faintest smell of slick can them into hormonal overdrive. “Mhm. I trust you.” He said. He wanted to be your first, last and everything in between.

On the third day you marked each other. Marking was a rather intimate action, it was the way of claiming someone as yours. They tended to be on the neck where it was visible to everyone, and you had to take care of them for a few days while it was sore, or else you’d risk infection and a deformed mark. It was Dean’s first time going into public since that night so you could help him move some of his stuff to your place. Let’s just say you weren’t weren’t taking any risks when it came to the safety of your omega. He’d be lying if he said your protectiveness wasn’t a massive turn on.

Day five was when the pre-heat began. The pre-heat period was when an omegas body prepared to go into heat. Excessive clinginess and need for affection weren’t too uncommon either. Dean would crawl into your lap at the most random times, whether you were working on an essay or watching TV. He wore your hoodies around the house, scented everything you owned. Cuddling was a necessity. Sometimes he’d get you to lay on his lap, massaging your scalp and playing with your hair as you nuzzled his stomach. Good morning and goodnight kisses were a must. You two started sleeping in the same bed, but you didn’t always cuddle. On nights where you’d slept a good distance opposite each other you’d find him snug in your arms when you woke up.

However, despite his bodily needs, Dean still respected your personal space and gave you time to yourself though he was constantly aching for your touch. Never overstepping, never being the source of your frustration. You couldn’t begin to fathom how you got lucky enough to be mated with someone as kind and warm-hearted as your babyboy. Fate was good.

https://ko-fi.com/sunehri_c

#gilmore girls #dean forester x male reader #male reader #bxb #dean forester #male insert #bottom dean #fluff #abo verse #alpha/omega

[ink-fireplace-coffee]

Marble and Magic Monday: Mafia AU Part 1

A/N: we start the AUs with a Mafia one because y e s

TW: death, blood, guns and knifes. I think that's all.

If there's one thing you need to know about magic, is that it turned into a luxury.

And when people start fighting for something, only the most powerful survive.

Unknown to the Starless people, the city is constantly on the edge for those with magic. Having to choose between three sides - affiliating to the Eterna Realeza, ruled by the Asya family; work for the Striker Gang, a mismatch of powerful outcasts; or going solo… With all the implications of that.

There were little things that could make both empires crumble to the ground, and yet, Jasper Cheasya just happened to be one.

It took him exactly two days to notice he was being observed and followed by no less than six different people: he came from a rich family, and there was no trace of a doubt his status preceded him.

After all, his mom was no other than the Witch.

Since his arrival three weeks ago now, this was the first time Jasper had tried to outrun his followers. And not knowing the layout of the city clearly became a problem. Anxiety growing in his chest with every heartbeat he had ended in a street full of closed businesses.

"I wouldn't turn there," a voice at his back said, right before he was about to go to the right. "That's a dead end, right there. Although," the man kept rambling, "you are gonna end up dead either way."

Jasper finally turned around to face him: a man in his thirties, his broad shoulders and the gun he was carrying were indicative of his job.

"Why did you tell me that?" Jasper tried not to stand small, knowing damn well he was just buying time. The man would not have time to chit chat.

With a simple shrug and a sharp smile he answered: "Because I like to give my preys time to run."

He then swung forward towards Jasper who took off running as fast as he could.

'He needs me alive,' he thought trying to find somewhere to hide in between the alleys and streets. When he heard the first gunshot, the statement vanished.

To his dismay, in between the gunshots and laughs of his hunter, another voice joined the chaos.

"Hey!" It was a girl's, and stood in between Crazy-Man-With-a-Gun and him.

Panting heavily and wanting to roll over and vomit, Jasper sent a last prayer to the Stars and wished his death was as quick as possible.

But Death did not come looking for him. Instead, he just heard more shots… Not aimed at him!

The boy spotted some trash cans and quickly kneeled behind them, trying his best not to make any sound.

The girl and the man were too busy with each other to even think of him anyway…

Agatha hated patrol days. Waving off drunk men and waking up homeless people who were in their territory was by far the most thrilling things that could happen in one of those days.

But try telling that to Kathan.

"Direct others," she mimicked his voice while rolling her eyes. She was worth more than just walking around their territory for the Stars' sake!

She jolted when she heard the first gunshot. What the Hell?

A guy passed running down the street, and in no time she stood in between him and another man.

"Hey!" Her gun was already in her hand, pointing at the man. "Realeza trash, I thought your kind knew this is our territory-" she cocked the gun- "And that we have permission to eliminate all of you if you so much but step on it."

"I'd love to see you try Flower Girl."

A few shots later, the blood right from the man's head dyed the ground red. Agatha scowled and looked at him with disgust one more time before remembering about the other boy.

When he took off running she wasted no more time.

"Stop running," she called, but that weird kid wouldn't listen, and she had to make sure whose side he was on.

'Desperate times…' Agatha launched forward, making the stranger fall to the ground beneath her.

When he tried to escape and grunt, she carefully pushed a little knife to his throat.

Jasper's scream died in his mouth when he felt the pressure of the blade against him.

"Now, now, Pretty Boy, are you sure you want to move again?" her voice was the soft caress of a lover, and that only increased Jasper's fear.

"I will only ask once, and to give you a hint, there's only one correct option." Her mouth was as red as the blood of his hunter. "Whose side are you on, Pretty Boy?"

"Side? I have no idea what you are-Please don't kill me!" he begged when the pressure of the little knife increased. "I truly have no idea what you are talking about, I swear for the Stars."

Only then she pushed the knife away. “If you are lying I promise you-”

“I’m not! I arrived in the city three weeks ago. I have no idea who that dude was or why was he following me!”

Agatha stood up, towering over the boy. “In that case, let me give you a friendly welcome: You got yourself in Striker’s territory, and what happens to people who come here and should not be here…” She looked back at the corpse. “Understood?”

Jasper nodded a few times, popping carefully onto his elbows.

“Now if you aren’t a part of Realeza, but they wanted you…” she muttered to herself. “You are coming with me, Pretty Boy.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong!”

“Oh well, that’s your word, but the most powerful mafia sending a guy to track you and hunt you down says otherwise. Besides,” she added, “I think you would not turn down protection from us, now would you?”

“Protection?” Jasper’s head felt foggy.

“Yes, protection,” the girl sighed like talking to him was unbearable. “You are important for them, which makes you a valuable piece for us. So come on, I’m bringing you to the Boss.”

And with that, Jasper, the son of the Witch, was taken under the wing of the Striker Gang.

“My name is Jasper, by the way,” he added when the silence in between them was too uncomfortable.

“Agatha. Let me give you a free tip, Jasper: watch your back. I don’t have a clue why you are so important for some people, but if I were you, I would always carry a loaded gun with me.”

Maybe he would have to get one.

------

[Taglist under the cut]

@fuyugomori|| @enchanted-lightning-aes|| @alexwritesfiction|| @dontcrywrite|| @indecentpause|| @writing-is-a-martial-art|| @47crayons|| @the-writing-moon|| @shamblingthing|| @kingsinking|| @fiercely-raging-writer|| @euphoniouspandemonium

#marble and magic monday #my writing #marble and magic: mafia au #writeblrs #writers on tumblr #m&m

[victoria-daydreams]

Of Vices and Virtues

Chapter One: The Queen of Hearts

AN: At first, I was going to delete this story because it wasn’t gaining any traction, which was disappointing, but as the days passed the notes started coming in I decided to keep it posted. Thank you to everyone that’s read this fic so far.

Trigger Warnings: subtle racism

Word Count: 4.6k

Chapter Two: Division X

The car journey was slow and tedious, it had only been three hours since the three of us had set off. I was dozing off in the back seat cocooned in my tan wool coat as my head used the window as a pillow, listening to Charles and Erik talk softly amongst themselves, they must have thought I was fully asleep.

"Why recruit an empath?" Erik asked curiously. "Why not recruit someone with a more destructive power?"

"You forget Claudia is also telekinetic," Charles answered. "I mean did you see her? When she lifted that knife, her eyes, it was as if they were glowing. It was beautiful to look at!" Charles exclaimed, and I could envision a brilliant smile on his face.

"You find her attractive, don't you?" Erik asked, almost amused. "I'm sure Agent MacTaggert will understand," Erik continued, still in a teasing tone.

Charles chuckled delightfully, "I'm not going to comment on that," Charles stated, clearing his throat and changing the topic. "But do not discount her empathy as not a destructive gift, that particular ability can enhance her mind and body to be nearly superhuman if she wished it to do so, along with projecting her emotions to other people. Empathy can be extremely dangerous,"

"Do you think she has used it in a dangerous way?" Erik questioned. Erik's question hung in the air for a while. "Charles?" he prompted.

"There is danger within her," Charles answered softly.

His voice, hazy as the air in summertime, seemed to come from somewhere outside of himself. The two of them were silent then, knowing and sharing this sudden, troubling observation. Just as my eyes felt heavy and I felt myself drifting into a peaceful sleep when Erik's voice startled me.

"Charles, do you really think that this is a good idea?"

"Erik, if I didn't have faith in how powerful her abilities are then I never would have allowed her to get mixed up in this in the first place," Charles assured.

"And just how powerful are her abilities, Charles? I feel like there's something you're hiding. What more can she do?"

"She's more powerful than even she knows. You've only sampled a small amount of the power she possesses. But I think that she's holding back what she can do, so until she tells us, we'll have to wait,"

My mind became fuzzy and I soon drifted off into total and calm oblivion.

~~~x~~~

When I woke up, my head was still resting on the window. I lifted my head from my makeshift pillow and saw Erik looking at me, through the rear view mirror, with a mixture of emotions that I didn't recognize. I shifted slightly and sat up slowly, my limbs groaning in protest. It was now early afternoon, as we made the drive to the CIA headquarters.

My eyes shifted between the back of Erik's seat and the back of Charles seat every few minutes. Charles looked at the mirror, shifting his eyes slightly so he can still see the road and keep eye contact with me.

"So Claudia," he began in attempt to break the uncomfortable silence that had fallen on the car now that I was awake. "What did you do at your job?" Charles asked politely.

My eye twitched as I stared at the mirror, "Clearly, I was in maintenance," I retorted sleep still heavy in my voice, as I gestured at my dress underneath my coat.

Erik's eyes moved from the passenger side window back to the mirror, looking at me, "Sarcasm won't be the best way to pass time," he turned his attention back to the road.

We sit in a tense silence, I never was one for small talk. I just left my home and job only a few hours ago to help two strangers I just met. They worked for the government, which raised my suspicion, but the fact that they knew how to find me so easily and knew what I could do was unnerving. I believe that I deserved to be left alone with my thoughts, this was a lot for me.

After a few minutes of more tense silence I spoke up again, "Psychologist," I answered, causing the two men to look back at me. "I was a psychologist's assistant, I only have my bachelor's degree," I explained.

It was the perfect cover, I gave mental support to patients and their families. No one really knew what I was and what I could do if I was given the chance. Secretly, I always hoped something would happen that'd make me use my powers for a cause bigger than myself.

Charles smiled at me, "Where did you attend college?"

My voice turned monotone, "Howard University, but you probably already knew that and my whole life story," I remarked.

"Contrary to your belief, I am not one to betray someone's trust. You asked me to stay out of your head, so until I have your permission, I won't reach out for you telepathically," Charles looked at the rear view mirror again, catching my eyes again.

Regret flashed in my eyes as I dropped my gaze, playing with my hands, "My apologies,"

"There's no need to apologize to me, Claudia,"

I cleared my throat, feeling uncomfortable, I glanced out the window, "Where are we?" I asked, changing the subject.

"We're coming up to the headquarters now," Charles answered, gesturing to the large building looming up ahead of us.

I looked out of the window to see the headquarters. It was made up of one huge tan stone building surrounded by acres of clean, green fields and deciduous trees, with a rather odd looking satellite to the left of it that looked like a large golf ball atop of a tee. It was quite remarkable and imposing, but also very conspicuous.

"I would have thought that it would be more camouflaged, being a government building and all," I quipped, and Erik let out a light chuckle.

The car came to a gradual stop before we pulled up to the curb and we all stepped out of the car.

"Home sweet home," Erik noted dryly.

The air had turned cold and bitter and I shrugged my coat closer to me in an attempt to keep warm, before I grabbed my suit case out of the black car. Charles, Erik, and I had gone back to my apartment after I was recruited to gather my clothes and valuables into my suitcase. I smiled inwardly thinking back on how Erik ordered me to hurry up and pack my belongings and I did just the exact opposite just to piss him off.

"I thought I told you to make it quick," Erik grumbled, trying to steer me out of my own apartment.

"You did. I just didn't listen," I answered simply, before latching onto Charles' arm, and he guided me out the apartment.

"Claudia, Erik. Please. Do try to get on. We have a six hour car journey ahead of us and I don't think that my sanity will be able to stand you two bickering for that length of time," Charles groaned.

"My, my, is he always like that?" I asked, looking over my shoulder with a wry grin and Erik just glared at me.

"Erik?"

"Who else?" I retorted, rolling my eyes. "Is he always so hostile towards people?"

"I would say not trusting in your case, my dear," Charles corrected. "Just give him time and he will come around, probably not entirely, but I trust he will not try to kill you," Charles stated sending me a reassuring smile, that I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow to.

"I'd like to see him try,"

It was starting to become fun, arguing with Erik. He had a quick wit, not unlike myself. We could keep up with each other. Shaking my head out of my daze, I closed the car door. Charles came up behind me and placed a hand on my shoulder and slowly guided me towards the front door.

"Now Claudia, there are six more people here just like us. You will meet them shortly," Charles informed, as I walked beside him with suitcase in hand.

"Ah, Charles, Erik, welcome back. I see you have brought one more recruit," A large, more plump man greeted us, sporting a black suit, wore square glasses, and had jet black hair. "Welcome to my facility, the CIA's new Mutant Division," he welcomed as I looked on impressed. He extended his hand out to me, I was shocked by the gesture. "I'm Agent Platt, and I promise you I'm on your side,"

"Claudia Walker," I greeted back smiling while giving his hand a firm shake. "And by that I hope you mean you support us, because you aren't a mutant," I hinted, my smile never wavered. Agent Platt raised his eyebrows, glancing to Charles uncomfortably. "I'm an empath Mr. Platt. I might not know what you're thinking, but rest assured I know what you're feeling," the man smiled, his cheeks scrunching up.

"Well, anyway, let's introduce you to your new partners, Claudia. You'll be with them for a...long while, so might as well get acquainted," Agent Platt stated.

"We are actually are on their way Agent Platt," Charles informed, shoving his hands in pocket. "We got it from here," Charles stated.

Mr. Platt nodded, "It was nice meeting you, Claudia," I gave small wave and the man twisted around and walked away from us.

As we moved around the halls, which were full of CIA agents, some of them had stopped in their tracks, watching as the three of us made our way through. Some had disgusted looks on their faces, like they had smelled something awful. Others had smirks plastered on their face, and I could see it in their eyes that they were working on plans on how to make my life miserable. It wouldn't be hard, those stares were enough to make me feel uncomfortable.

Charles and Erik seemingly ignored the stares and both pointed out places. It had already become easy to tell who really was fully into this, and that was Charles. As we moved into the laboratories, he lit up with explaining ideas of mutations in genes and all sort of things that revolved around an expansion of the human race. His hope for this new sort of combined world was almost infectious. And then there was Erik, the gruffer of the two who just sort of nodded along, ignoring the mutations speeches, but pointed of the more relevant things like the bathroom and kitchen. Both had their positives and negatives, and you could tell that they were good friends that filled in what the other was lacking a bit.

"Here is where you'll be staying," Charles pushed open the door to the small simple room. "All of us are staying in this hallway. Welcome to your new home Claudia," I looked at Charles smile and internally shake my head.

This was hardly my home. All it was was a big, white, cold building that stuck out like a neon flashing light. It might as well say "Mutants helping the CIA are here. Come check them out!"

I opened my mouth to voice my opinion, but changed my mind, "Thanks," I smiled to him as I stepped in and put my bag on the bed.

"Do you mind if I change. Sleeping and sitting in this dress for six hours was incredibly uncomfortable," I explained.

"Of course, we'll be right outside the door," Charles replied, and he left the room.

My eyes scanned over the room once more, my bedroom looked like a stereotypical military barrack. Grey walls, grey prickly carpet, grey, bland itchy bed covers, a lumpy mattress, standard chest of drawers and a small desk with a small desk lamp. No personality. At. All. It was definitely going to need a change, because this would not do.

"Alright," I shrugged and turned to unpack my suitcase. Flipping it open I started pulling out my perfectly folded clothing and shoes. It was then as I started stooped down and lined my shoes up along the end of my bed that I realized Erik was still there, because he started chuckling.

"Can I help you, Chuckles?" I questioned, glancing back up at him.

"Nope, just wondering where the crack is in that perfect exterior you've built," he shrugged. "I mean, from what I've seen, all of us have one," he reasoned and I knew that he wasn't just talking of the human race, but specifically mutants.

"You tell me yours and I'll possibly tell you mine," I smirked as he raised an eyebrow to me and leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms.

"I'm a survivor of the Holocaust," he replied with a look that silently tested me to freak out or something with this information.

This man wanted a reaction and I wasn't going to give it to him.

"That's one enormous crack," I turned back to him unconsciously rubbing my wrist, a motion that Erik did not miss as he raised a curious eyebrow.

"You're telling me," he replied dryly. "So...come on. You've got the Miss Perfect act down to a 'T', so where is it?" Erik asked, his eyes scanning over me.

"I don't if I should say now, yours would trump mine any day," I explained, as I ran my hand down my neck uncomfortably. I cleared my throat hoping to dispel the suffocating atmosphere that was closing in on me. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to change," I reminded, and Erik shot annoyed glance and grunted, before leaving the room.

I turned back to my suitcase and searched through my clothes to change into some more comfortable clothing. After finally deciding on what to wear I had changed into a pair of black cropped pants, flats, and a red turtleneck sweater. I walked out of my room, to see Erik and Charles waiting next to my door.

"Did you get lost in there?" Erik asked irritatedly.

"No. Beauty takes time, didn't you know?" I retorted, and Erik rolled his eyes. "Now, where are the other mutants, Charles?" I asked, focusing my gaze on Charles now.

"Follow me," Charles said, extending his arm out.

We had taken several corridors before finally coming to the room where the others were being kept. I grimaced at my thoughts, I made them sound like caged animals.

Charles stopped at the doors and turned to me, "Can you make sure they don't get into too much trouble? Charles requested.

I nodded slightly curious to see who I'm working with, "I'll be sure to," I answered.

As we stood in front of the door I took a moment to compose myself. I smoothed out the wrinkles in my pants and made sure my hair was in place though it was loose, I wanted make sure it wasn't all over the place. After all, first impressions were everything.

Charles pushed open the double doors and walked in. Erik followed with me in tow. I looked around the room. It was quite large with chairs and tables, couches in the middle and a fish tank against a wall. Two large windows were on either side of the room and it looked out towards the grounds.

"Everyone, I would like you to meet our final recruit,"

I then noticed the other people in the room. They were all younger than me, and staring at me.

"This is Claudia Walker and I hope you treat her well. Now if you would excuse Erik and I, we have some matters to discuss," he announced.

My head snapped up and glared at Charles' retreating form. I lifted my barrier slightly.

"Feed me to the dogs why don't you,"

Charles left with a laugh and several confused glances before he and Erik were finally out of the room. A stunning blonde ran up to me, pulling me into a tight embrace. I stepped back a little startled. Admittedly, I enjoyed being wrapped in her arms, it had been a long time since I last had a friend.

"I'm Raven, Charles' sister," she introduced, pulling away.

"I didn't know he had one," I replied, letting out a laugh.

"Well, he's barely here anymore to talk," Raven sighed, and then flashed me a fake smile. "Anyway, come and meet the others!" Her faux smile turned into a grin as she dragged me to the sofa. "Okay, this is Armando, but he prefers to be called Darwin," Raven started, nodding towards a slim, dark skinned man, clearly the oldest of the group of teens. "Angel," she named, nodding at a beautiful, tan skinned girl, with pitch black hair, and sultry, dark brown eyes. "Sean," my eyes moving to Sean, a pale, ginger, and rather lanky boy.

Sean stood up and took my hand, kissing it, "Sean Cassidy. Sixteen years old, I like fish, and pretty girls with black hair," he hinted. Raven and I exchanged amused looks that said, "Is he serious?"

"Teenage boys and their hormones. It's like being back in high school," I thought.

A muscular, blond boy pulled Sean back into his seat by his shirt, "Alright Casanova," he said dryly, and a laugh escaped me. "Get over it, man. She's out of your league, and probably older than you," the blond boy did a double take, his hand still fisted in Sean's shirt, "Wait, how old are you?" he questioned.

"Twenty-two," I answered.

"Six years older, man," the blond boy pointed to Sean before letting him go.

"I can take older women!" Sean protested.

The boy rolled his eyes and turned to me, "Excuse Ginger's-"

"Hey!" Sean interjected.

"Sad and obvious excuse to get you in a closet, a date, or in his bed...but I'm Alex. Alex Summers," he introduced, a smile forming on his face.

"And finally, Hank," Raven continued, motioning to the last guy left, clearly the nerd of the group, with his glasses and dorky jumper.

Hank reached out a hand, that I briefly shook, knowing it made Raven uncomfortable. She clearly liked him, it wasn't that I couldn't see where she was coming from. He was cute in a way, but just not my type.

"Now we're government agents, we should have code names," Raven suggested. "I want to be called Mystique," she announced, clearly having previously thought about it.

"Damn! I wanted to be called Mystique," Sean protested, faking disappointment. I couldn't help but chuckle and shake my head.

"Well, tough I called it," Raven laughed.

In seconds, blue scales trickled down her body before feathering into a perfect replica of Sean. Sean was taken aback, nearly spilling his drink. After the initial shocked faded, Sean began to study himself. We couldn't help but gape, it was truly amazing.

"Besides, I'm way more mysterious than you," Raven added, everyone broke into laughter, giving Raven a round of applause, as Sean turned back into a rather bashful Raven.

"Darwin, what about you?" Raven asked, taking her applause modestly.

"Well Darwin is already a nickname and it kind of fits," he nodded at us. "Adapt to survive an' all. Check this out,"

Darwin strode over to the fish tank, I couldn't help but wonder what he was about to do. He dunked his head into to the water of the fish tank, we didn't even have to blink before newly formed gills appeared on his face. We began to cheer, as he opened his mouth, impersonating a fish. The gills disappeared as he took his head out of the tank, shaking off the water, before signalling to Sean.

"What about you?" he inquired.

Sean pressed his hands together, taking a moment to decide.

"I'm going to be...Banshee,"  Sean decided.

I was about to open my mouth to speak before I was interrupted by Hank.

"Why do you want to be named after a wailing spirit?" he wondered, taking the words straight from my lips, I nodded in agreement.

"You might wanna cover your ears," Sean warned, getting up from his chair, revealing his full height, winking directly at me and I rolled my eyes.

All of us frowned in sheer confusion before reluctantly covering our ears. Sean bent down, keeping us in suspense. Letting out a high pitch whistling noise, shattering the glass window. Sean winced slightly when he saw the damage he had done before joining in with the others laughter. I gazed in horror at it.

"Charles is going to murder me," I thought to myself.

Maybe I would be able to...fix it, but I knew it was a useless thought.

"Your turn," Sean signaled at Angel, returning to his previous seat.

"My stage name was Angel," she began, standing up, sliding the leather jacket down her arms, revealing her bare back. Sean let out a wolf whistle and Alex shifted uncomfortably, clearly affected. "It kinda fits," Angel turned around revealing tattooed wings on her back slowly peeling off, starting to flutter effortlessly.

"You can fly?!" Raven gaped, mesmerized by her pixie wings.

"Uhuh and..." she bent over, and spat out a ball of what appeared to be acid onto the top of the statues head.

I had to suppress another groan at the damage inflicted upon the statue. Somehow I knew that the night was only going to get more destructive.

"That's disgusting," I muttered under my breath, thinking no one could hear me.

"Well what can you do," Angel challenged me, since I wasn't that impressed with her display.

I smirked and stood up, straightening myself out, "Well, I'm an empath. I can detect other peoples feelings and manipulate them, Watch," I instructed.

I walked over to Darwin and place my hand on his arm, "Amazement," I named, before moving over to Sean. I touched his arm, wrinkling my nose a little. "Lust. Ew," I commented, as everyone laughed and Sean turned a light shade of pink. "And..." I walked towards Alex, about to do my trick on him, when I see him tense up.

The emotions I feel are mixed, there is a hint of happiness, but it is over shadowed by a depressing, dark feeling. I looked into his eyes and there is so much mystery, so much hurt, that I am compelled not to reveal this boy's current emotional state to the entire group.

"... You get the picture," I finished, walking away. I might've been mistaken, but I swear I felt a slight sense of gratitude radiating off of Alex. I took a seat across from Angel, sitting at the edge of it, focusing on Angel's brain. "What I'm doing right now is accessing the hippocampus of Angel's brain, having that send messages to the amygdala, which is the part of the brain that is responsible for emotions. I have to choose an emotion then release and Angel will act the way that emotion wants her to," I explained, looking at everyone.

My choice was to make her really sad, I don't know why but it was just for no reason. When I released her brain, she started to cry hysterically. She could probably fill a bathtub with her tears. Releasing my control over Angel, she calmed down after few minutes, everyone choked with laughter, and Angel glared at me.

"Ask and you shall receive," I stated, returning an innocent smile with a shrug.

"Oh, and I can also-" I broke off, as I pointed towards Sean's glass that he was about to take a drink out of. It took itself out of his hand surrounded in a violet aura and hovered just out of his reach. They all looked up at me in amazement. Sean whistled, clapping. I gave a small smile, bowing in my seat.

"Hmm...what about...Blithe? But spelt B-l-y-t-h-e!" Raven said excitedly.

"I don't get it," Sean stated, confusion evident in his expression.

"It means to be happy and carefree," Hank explained, quietly but all of us heard him and we turned to look at him. He cleared his throat before carrying on looking at me. "It also means to show a casual and cheerful indifference, not that I'm trying to say that you do-" Hank starting to ramble.

"It's fine, no offense taken," I reassured, cutting him off and he looked up at me. "I love it," I looked back over to Raven. "Blythe...It's got a nice ring to it," I carry on smiling at her.

"What's your name?" Raven asked. Hank looked down, embarrassed.

Alex choked on his drink, "How about Bigfoot?" he sniggered.

Raven turned her head to glare at him. I shot a disapproving look at Alex, it was like he had shattered the little confidence, Hank actually had.

"Well, you know what they say about guys with big feet," Raven started, looking down to Alex's feet, I frowned in confusion. Hanks mutation was big feet? "And yours look kind of small," Raven's tone turning spiteful. I couldn't help but laugh along with the others including Alex, all except Raven and Hank, who sat in an awkward silence.

"Alex, what is your gift? What can you do?" Darwin asked, motioning to him before leaning back into the sofa.

"Uh it's not...um, I can't do it, I can't do it in here," Alex stuttered, avoiding everyone's gaze.

My own gaze softened, I found myself feeling sorry for him, "Guys," I started, looking at him in sympathy. "Let's leave him be,"

"Can you do it out there?" Darwin asked, gesturing out the window.

"Darwin!" I exclaimed, making him look abashed. But it was too late, the idea had already caught fire.

"Why don't you just do it out there?" Raven said, her eyes alight with mischief.

"Come on!"

The room erupted into cheers of Alex's name. Leaning back in my seat, I sighed heavily. This is fantastic. Soon giving into the calls, Alex stood up. They cheered, Raven laughing.

"Get down when I tell you," Alex ordered, looking deadly serious. He seemed deathly afraid of his own powers, whatever those were. We got up from our spots on the sofas and piled along the edge of the window. Alex was outside, a little to the side of us.

"Get back," he warned. We ducked back into the room, before peeking our heads out once again. He had a determined expression on his face and his arms were slightly outstretched in front of him.

"Get back!" He ordered, and they repeated their action from before, while I didn't. However, after a moment, they joined me once more. "Whatever," Alex grumbled.

Alex began to circle his hips, in a way that would make you think he knew what he was doing, as three red rings appeared. Letting go, the rings flew in different directions, one of the other beams came dangerously close to hitting Raven another one sliced through the statue, clean in half. When he did, I groaned loudly, clapping a hand to my forehead. The others clapped and cheered, impressed more likely at the destruction of the statue, more than Alex's power.

He split the thing in half! How do you even do that? Giving up, I marched back over to my seat, collapsing in it.

"Sorry Charles," I apologized in advance. "I wasn't a very good caretaker,"

"You know what this party needs?" Darwin asked rhetorically, standing up, "Alcohol," He pulled out a bottle of tequila out of the cabinet.

He was met with cheers as everyone besides me rushed to get some.

"Well," Angel began. "I think we deserve a little music," she suggested.

Rolling my eyes to myself, I rubbed the bridge of my nose. I predicted more damage. Sighing, I sat down in my spot, leaving the others to their antics.

They already caused a large amount of damage, what more could they do?

Chapter Three: Budding Relationships

#x-men fanfiction #black fanfiction #x-men fanfic #charles xavier fanfiction #charles xavier x oc #black!oc #magneto x oc #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #erik lehnsherr fanfiction #erik lehnsherr x reader #erik lehnsherr x oc #black!reader #x men fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel imagine

[liam-cadmus]

truth

/tro͞oTH/

noun

the quality or state of being true

Sasuke stays in Konoha, ANBU

Sasuke bites back a sigh, leaning back on his chair with crossed arms. Kakashi’s lone eye crinkles in amusement, making him scowl at his teacher, the man chuckling quietly.

His fingers rhythmically taps on the wooden table, unattentive to the elders exchanging their opinions on the matter, catching Tsunade’s eye. She smirks at him, before he drops his head down on the table, ignoring the loud voices of the elders screeching.

“Are we boring you, Uchiha?” Danzo’s voice asks, making him blink in annoyance, before smiling politely, sitting straighter. “Not at all, Danzo-sama.” 

Kakashi’s masked lips turn upwards, his bastard of a teacher finding this amusing, even if he’s tempted to shunshin behind Danzo and rip the Sharingan embedded in his eyesocket. 

“Then, do you have something to share to the table?” he asks, Sasuke humming, his thumb picking on the thread of the uchiwa symbol on his flak jacket before leaning forwards. 

Danzo sees that as a sign to continue, before he links his fingers under his chin, sharp onyx eyes regarding the man. “Hn,” he says, before leaning down to get a stack of papers, gently placing it in front of him.

“I have something that I want clarification, if you don’t mind, Shimura.” he says calmly, his teeth bared and stretched to a smile. The bandaged old man closes his opened mouth before Sasuke slowly stands up, separating the stack to five folders, and passing it to Inoichi and Shikaku, the other clan heirs watching him from where they’re seated on the left of the room.

Inoichi glares at the paper as if it offended him, before Sasuke sits down once again. “I noticed you have bandages, what might have happened that caused that?” 

“Second shinobi war.” The man stiffly responds before Sasuke leans back on his chair comfortably, pretending to look at his nails. “And the medics have told you to wear it ever since?” he asks, the elders glaring at him, shouting at how disrespectful it is. 

“What am I to judge, it’s personal, so I won’t push it on you.” he murmurs, his quiet voice unusually loud in the room, even if he didn’t raise the volume. “I would, and will not have asked you, if it didn’t concern me, however.” 

Shikaku and Inoichi stare at the other man, Kakashi and Tsunade mirroring them. “You broke a law, Shimura.” he hisses, “And I’m well damn sure that my clan doesn’t appreciate having their eyes getting plucked, nor seeing said eyes on your arm.”

The room quiets, the wind blowing across the room. Danzo stands in aggravation, before slamming his hands on the table, shouting, “I will not accept getting accused like this.”

“Well, you sure are proving you’re guilty then.” he says back, standing. “I have evidence, and you will stay seated until I finish my case, Shimura.” 

Their attention snaps to his cold, steely voice, and the Sharingan whirring in his eyes. Inoichi, the kind man, places his hand on his arm, squeezing it to help him calm down before he sits back down, Danzo looking at him with a pinched expression, before following his lead.

“Hokage-sama, I believe my case needs to be heard, so that our members would understand.” Tsunade nods, the Godaime’s face morphed to an emotionless look, but Kakashi and Sasuke both know she would’ve let him, any chance.

He takes the file he gave to Inoichi before flipping it through, then handing it to Tsume Inuzuka, the woman’s eyes reading through the file, before passing it along to Chouza, the paper systematically moving to each clan head. 

He licks his lips, before clearing his throat. “According to that file, that I have found in the Uchiha Archives in the compound, it is true that my clan planned a coup d’etat, and I am, in no way, approving or justifying their reasons, but I wanted to include this.”

The others nod apprehensively, before he shows another file containing the missing children. “As much of you know, a lot of children went missing, especially ones with the powerful kekkai genkai.” 

There’s a collected silence across the room. “I, as a child, would notice that our clan specifically kept having clan members, ranging from children to jounin.”

He taps his foot, “This, of course, made our clan even more scared, as no one can or will listen to us because of the Kyuubi attack. You must understand, that we were placed in the outskirts of Konoha, and that even if we were the Police Force, we are overshadowed by the ANBU. In addition to that, the hatred and distrust on Uchiha made it so we could not ask for help.”

He gathers his thoughts, before his hand tightens, “Most of them would be kidnapped, but there would be Uchiha thrown in our compound missing their eyes, dead. The breaking point was the 'death' of Uchiha,” he takes a deep breathe, before steeling his emotions once more, “Shisui.”

“I will not talk anymore about the coup, but instead, focus on the bodies that return with no eyes.” He glares at Danzo, before smacking one black colored file, “I was able to retrieve this, alongside reports from shinobi out of the village in my ANBU missions, talking about how, an old man with bandages on his arms and face kidnapped children from other villages.” 

He passes it. Danzo grits his teeth, before snarling, “You’re not allowed to enter our headquarters, and you shouldn’t have that.” 

“Astute observation. Sai and Shin, helped me, along with Hatake Kakashi and Tenzo. Three of whom, are evidences to ROOT, with the cursed seal on their tongues.” 

The three mentioned men walk out of the shadows, curling their tongue to show the imprinted seal. “I don’t give a damn, if the Uchiha did plan a coup d’etat, and I’m pissed that my brother was roped into killing his kin, but what I do not tolerate is the fact you have my clan members Sharingan in your arms and eye, and whatever else you did to the rest.”

He pushes a dark red file away, “That is for later, if you see to understand Itachi’s situation.”

He smiles menacingly, before flicking open a dark grey file, the uchiwa fan on the front, “I want permission to be given to investigate this case, and if it is proven, that if we remove the bandages, and that my clan’s dojutsu appears, that this will be investigated further.”

Tsunade opens her mouth to approve, when Hiashi Hyuuga lifts a brow and asks, “And why is that the Hyuugas not notice the apparent eyes.”

Sasuke resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, choosing instead to breath deeply. “I don’t see why it matters, after all, if my claim was proven to be incorrect, then it will be dismissed.”

“It does matter to me, it shows that you see our eyes incapable of noticing it.”

“I did not mention anything about your clan’s involvement.” 

Hiashi Hyuuga’s stern white eyes and the veins popping by his temple makes a terrifying image, but he must not have seen an Uchiha angry. His anger has been simmering underneath, and he has been keeping it in ever since Danzo’s act of innocence earlier.

“There are two laws in Konohagakure ; village and clan laws.” he seethes, “I am showing you a case, of a clan law being broken, and this is Uchiha matters, and only to the Uchiha.” 

“Please do not intervene in my clan affairs Hyuuga-san, I have been giving you nothing but respect, recognition, and courtesy, and never have I mentioned about the branch family’s seal, do you not see?” he growls, Hiashi’s eyes widening at the pure anger in his tone.

Sasuke dismisses his silence, before turning, “I am a clan head, and before Fugaku’s passing, has been trained to be one. My parents have offered my brother to you as a weapon, and he has proven his loyalty. Be it as it may, my clan has betrayed the village’s trust, but the village has broken ours.”

“I will not let my clan be disregarded for all it’s contribution to this village, and I will not allow you to dig it under lies and corruption, for the village’s ‘protection’.”

He breathes out deeply, only standing because of Inoichi’s grounding palm, “I have lost everything in one night, I only have my brother, and I’m not letting you take him away from me.”

“I ask you this for the peace of my clan, to avenge them from where they were mistreated, to let them rest. I was unable to burn their bodies as I was in the hospital unstable, and that alone, is a responsibility given to me. It was a clan tradition, and Shimura used that time to pluck their eyes. It is my right and duty as clan head to make sure the eyes are not taken as this is disrespect for the hard work of my clan members. You need to learn to listen.” he says, his voice wavering, but firm. 

Tsunade nods at him, “The village has been unfair to the Uchihas far too long, I promise you, I will do everything in my power, to restore it in it’s former glory. We will show the truth, but before that, Otter, Weasel, hold unto Danzo Shimura.

A pair of chakra cancelling handcuffs covers Danzo’s wrists, The Hokage just clicks her tongue at him, disgust etched in her features, the old man’s fear and hatred showing through widened eyes. 

“Crow, Hound, pull at the bandages please.” Kakashi walks over to the arm, holding the end of the bandage, “Of course, Hokage-sama.” 

Sasuke watches detached as the bandages pull free, multiple Sharingan eyes staring at him, making him stand blankly. He gasps, breathing heavy, before Shikaku helps him sit down, his hand clamping comfortingly on his shoulder. 

“Fugaku and Mikoto would have been so proud of you for defending your clan. You made to be a good clan head, and you brought justice to your clan.” Shikaku comforts him, as he chokes on a cry, biting his lips as the tears well up. He doesn’t let them fall, instead, blinking repeatedly for it to disappear. 

He will not let Danzo have the satisfaction of seeing him affected by his doings. 

He listens as Tsunade orders the ANBU around, Shikaku squeezing his shoulder before walking nearer Inoichi, the files filed on his arms. The two alongside Ibiki corner stand beside the Hokage, discussing about the interrogation. 

He lets himself slump on the chair, before Kakashi ruffles his hair, also moving away to include himself with the hurried murmurs of the four. The clan heads talk among themselves, but he would see one or two of them looking in his direction with acceptance, and respect. 

Kiba throws an arm around his shoulders, “Holy shit, that was Sasuke Uchiha as a clan head.” He grumbles pushing Kiba’s loud mouth away from his ear, raising an eyebrow, “Do you not believe in me, Wolf?”

Kiba gives him a toothy grin, “’Course not, Captain.” 

“You’re terrifying, good job.” Ino says, sitting down beside him. “You would have been such a good member to my Intelligence Team.” 

“Troublesome, utterly troublesome.” Shikamaru mutters, draping himself over Sasuke’s shoulders, Kiba moving away on instinct. “And this is our captain, don’t take him, Ino.” 

Ino raises two hands, before chuckling, “Shikamaru, I will never take your lover boy.” 

Shikamaru smacks her, before huffing, hiding his face in Sasuke’s hair. He chuckles softly, before letting the Nara doze off for a few minutes, reminding himself to wake him up. 

Ino stands to go to Hinata, to their other fellow graduates, the tight-knit group of Konoha called uh, Konoha 12. Kiba pats him on the arm, before standing from Shikaku’s seat, making him move Shikamaru down to the seat. He moves the Nara’s arms so that it pillows his head, smoothing down his ponytail before fixing his flak jacket. 

Someone drops to the seat to his left, “You’re scary in clan meetings, pretty boy.” 

He takes one look before huffing in amusement, giving a wry smile. “I suppose so.” 

“You got some guts to stand up to the Hyuuga head.” Neji drawls, bored, but one look to his eyes shows his gratitude. “Owl, I’m your captain, and I think there’s times I can stand for people.”

“Thank you, Hawk.” he says, before standing, looking over his shoulder to smirk smugly, “Meet at Ichiraku Ramen with the group, bring your Nara boy with.” 

He glowers at Neji, the Hyuuga already walking out the door behind the group, leaving him to wake up Shikamaru. He sees Tsunade and the others filtering out the room, making him shake the asleep teen. 

“Such a drag.” Shikamaru yawns, movements sluggish. He sighs, before tugging at Shikamaru’s arms, so that the Nara doesn’t fall asleep on them again. “Stand up you lazy ass.” 

Shikamaru looks at him with a drowsy eye, half-asleep. “Such a drag.” he repeats to Sasuke’s face, just to spite the man. Sasuke stares back with disinterest, “I won’t hesitate to throw you over my shoulder, Nara.” 

“Do it then,” Shikamaru challenges, making him pout. He lifts a brow to warn Shikamaru, his barely awake brain unable to notice it before he’s thrown over his ANBU Captain’s shoulder, making him shriek. 

He irritable crosses his arms, before saying in a deadpan, “Why are Uchiha so stubborn.”

Sasuke’s tongue peeks out, “You asked for it. And you already know I can carry you.” he says smugly, laughing when the Nara kicks a foot to his stomach. 

Sasuke’s grip on his thighs tighten, “I’m not gonna let you fall y’know, but that doesn’t mean you can take a nap.” he snorts, “I’ll let you sleep while they’re talking, Naruto’s gonna be loud after his visit in Suna, he’s gonna babble about Gaara again.” 

Shikamaru smiles, “Good thing I learned how to sleep in loud places, and you promise you’ll allow me to sleep? On your lap?”

“Sure,” he agrees, “You can sleep anywhere, Shika. I sometimes wonder how you’re a jonin and a ANBU.” 

A pinch to his back makes him bark out a laugh, the sound startling the chuunin and jonin around the hallway, making him flush in embarrassment. “Sorry.” he says flushing, the shinobi barely concealing their amused and surprised faces, after hearing the deep laugh of the usually stoic Uchiha.

“You scared them,” Shikamaru laughs, making him retort, pinching Shikamaru’s ass, “I did not.”

Shikamaru kicks a foot out in surprised laughter, making Sasuke hold him tighter. “Nara, calm down.” he snickers between stuttering breaths, laughing quietly. 

Sasuke smirks, patting the back of his knees, “Hold tight, you know how fast I can shunshin.” Shikamaru twists his fingers in Sasuke’s cloak, before being carried in intense speeds, feeling himself standing on wobbly knees, Sasuke’s amused face staring at him. 

“I hate Shisui Uchiha, why did he teach you pointers when you were young.” he breathes out, making Sasuke smile. 

“Come on, Deer.” He gets pulled in the shop, moving to on of the rented rooms, down to a long couch. He exhales in relief when his head drops to Sasuke’s thigh, his body sinking, and eyes drooping. 

Sasuke gives a quiet chuckle, before whispering, “Sleep babe.” 

Sasuke hums as he runs his fingers through his lover’s brunette locks, kissing his forehead. He lets his other hand intertwine with Shikamaru’s other hand, his own head falling on the back of the couch. 

He lets his friends’ voices lull him to sleep, his intertwined hand resting on top of Shikamaru’s chest. His mouth slips to a smile when the memory of proving his clan came to mind, before his breath stops. 

His eyes flick open, before he gasps. Otter was Shisui’s ANBU, and Weasel was his brother’s. An ANBU mask and animal is burned or thrown once they failed to pass it on, or if they died. 

“Miss me twerp?” 

Thought of clan head Sasuke after Danzo because of the stolen eyes. Loved the thought of him standing up to Hiashi about clan affairs. Included Sasuke and Shikamaru because I craved it. (I always do.) Wanted Itachi and Shisui alive. (Uchiha Quartet + Kakashi, is my life and soul. Misunderstood socially inept tall ass men that were all ANBU operatives.) And no, Shin did not die, I do not want anymore brothers getting separated.

#shikasasu #sasushika #shikamaru nara #sasuke uchiha #anbu #danzo shimura #fuck danzo #uchiha clan #konoha 12 #tsunade #hatake kakashi #uchiha deserved better #itach uchiha #shisui uchiha #i love them sm #konoha 12 are jonin #they all have clan heirships #and heads of their own divisions #kakashi & sasuke

[spade-riddles]

"Adjusting Expectations" Post

This submission received a lot of responses and 120 notes, so I thought I would compile the comments here.

Anonymous said:

Adjusting expectations anon was so good. If their timetables are right and we do just need to be patient a little longer, can Kaylor please send us a sign? I guess it would be too loud to slip "adjusting expectations" into social media posts, but maybe they could both do something with playing cards? To show they are card sharks right now but they'll find their way home eventually? That would reassure people. And it would fly under the radar.

casuallycruel131313 said:

I agree with a lot of this but I think the main issue right now is that moral and ethical lines have been crossed and there's no coming back from that. In these post-Trumpian insurrectionist times it's unfathomable that they could continue the Kushner narrative I no longer care if or when they come out, I enjoy the music and I'm happy to observe from a distance because I'm interested from a PR/marketing point of view but my opinion of T &K as people has changed irrevocably and I don't see how they can clean the tarnish off.

@theprologues said:

Agree with most of not all if this but I would like to say as a Kaylor the toe Grammy stunt didn’t phase me. I was not crushed by that by any means. I just shrugged and honestly expected it. It was the attributing Betty and exile to him during the LPSS in November that bummed me out and really made me go...really?

rockcrow20 said:

Have to say I also agree with most of this.

I no longer have any expectations on anything changing any time soon and have not been surprised by the recent events its to be expected after everything over the years really

Nothing has really changed (bearding narrative wise) since I fell down the rabbit hole in 2017 (except that great night in nashville 2018 rep)

Honestly I can't say I am as invested anymore about them ever coming out as I was.

I think the wb/Joe thing was the last moment for me and the continual kushner connection just troubles me like many others.

I mean my kaylor motto for awhile now has been hope for the best but expect disappointment.

Low expectations = limited feelings of disappointment.

original-cypher said:

@rockcrow20 the WB was a breaking point for so many. You are absolutely right. There are just so ma'y contradictions that feel like absolute whiplash. (I know I seem to have been the only one experiencing that with Gorgeous but... that was a big one for me, too) But like. You go on a whole PR campaign about speaking up and standing up for yourself. You say you're capable and tired of men trying to take ownership of your success and profit off of your name. And you credit you literal damn work to a bloke? Bitch, 'consistency'? Look it up. It grossed me out. It would have felt iffy if I believed they were real. But since I wasn't born yesterday it just sent me the message "this is how far I'm willing to sacrifice my principles to not be queer".

rockcrow20 said:

@original-cypher exactly why it bothered me and I know alot us so much. Such mixed messaging of being a strong fighting for your rights female and then oh hey let me attribute some of my best work to my pr boyfriend and the pr pics where she is walking behind all the time like 🙄 The Betty thing that was big one for me too!

rainbowdaisy13 said:

This write up and the comments are spot on. I don’t have much to add other than like @original-cypher said, Miss Americana is tainted for me now and seems like at the very least, it was released too soon in the plan. I get we think they have had to pivot but man, that doc, and including her literally saying “gay rights make me me” at the end was such a false flag. To see her wax poetic about not taking shit from men anymore and then see her do the same old hetero weak woman song and dance routine with the WB shit for albums that are of her genius mind has been so disappointing. I still believe Kaylor is real and I hope they get a chance to show the world that. Karlie posting that cardigan pic in the woods before the folklore release cemented for me they are still together. Adding a baby makes me feel all kind of weird ethical things but I hope I live long enough to see it play out and wear my I Told You So shirt 😁

@kellykaylor said:

agree with your post... I dont care about toe stunts but what really pissed me of was hetwashing betty 🤮! beautiful post tho anon!!

roameroo said:

Totally agree with these all comments especially the strong messaging of MA only to turn around & pull that WB = my "bf" crap. I was disheartened by her mentioning him at the Grammy's only bc he's getting credit for sh*t he doesn't/didn't do. That is what irks me the most about this, giving him credit for her life's work.

always-the-last-word said:

Can I throw my pennies in the pool ?? Taylor will put out the big three first Fearless, RED then 1989 that should bring us to about August. This is where the excitement should begin. If Taylor preps and waits for National Coming Out day it's a no lose for her. Lover her money making machine will go through the roof !! If things go bad or good in the public eye she'll have REPUTATION Taylor's Version ready to release. It will be epic and she'll own it and be FREE.

@karlie-what-you-want said:

always-the-last-word I like this take a lot! I try not to be too optimistic but if she wanted to come out sooner rather than later, I think this plan would satisfy both business and PR needs (at least on Taylor’s end). Remains to be seen how Tay will help Karlie dig her way out of the mess they made together regarding the K*shners.

always-the-last-word said:

Always remember that Taylor has a PLAN. Some of her plans are year's old (easter eggs). Taylor's one and only LOVE is her music, everything else comes second. If KK wants to change and be with her full time she'll make moves around the same time frame. That's if she chooses to. In any event Tay will be open and own all her music. I've seen this film before and WE might not like the ending.

chosetherose said:

I’ve been going back and forth for a day trying to figure out what I wanted to say when I reblogged this post. I’m tired. I’m frustrated. I understand I’m owed nothing by Taylor or Karlie. I understand that circumstances out of their control have caused the girls to pivot over and over again.

But, the root of my frustration in the past months stems not from me battling with the trivial (e.g. pap walks, etc.) but with my personal principles. I fiercely believe credit should be given where it is earned and I uphold this in my career regularly. To see Taylor crediting Toe with her art was deeply disappointing. Watch the 1989 and folklore acceptance speeches back to back and tell me it doesn’t upset you. I believe the K******s have blood on their hands and that their actions during the pandemic have killed people. To see Karlie still associating with one of them disgusts me.

I can’t help but think back in frustration - Would you really fall from grace to touch her face? (And in the brilliant words of @9w1ft) But would you die for her in public? I go back and forth feeling like questions like this aren’t fair at all and thinking they are sort of valid. At this point, it sort of feels like Taylor would only fall from grace for her lover if all the stars and facets of her life aligned perfectly. But perfection like this does not happen. Such is life. So why am I here?

I do question why Spade left certain messages in their final days. I am still holding hope a fervent revolution exonerates everyone. I so desperately want Taylor to regain control of her masters or re-records. Maybe this is the plan they thought was best with multiple goals in mind (re-records, having a family, coming out of the closet one day etc). I’m trying to remain patient because Spade told us to trust her endless yearning. But WOW it is asking a lot of us at this point.

Anonymous said:

Despite being a pragmatist kaylor and oftentimes getting into arguments with fellow optimistic kaylors (owner of this blog included) I think it's quite unfair -at this point- to say to the optimists who have patiently sat through the worst kind of stunts with the most terrible kind of people (yes I'm talking about the Kushner's friend group too) that they should have seen it coming. Besides, if it weren't for the optimists we the cynicals would have burned this fandom down by now.

Anonymous said:

Even if we ignore that an insurrection happened partially because of the family karlie's still working for and getting paid from, she literally said before the pregnancy debacle unfolded that j*sh was her last client while talking about cutting hair and doing a cutting gesture. How should we have interpreted that? 😤That a year later she would be more stuck with the Kushners than ever? We don't wake up on day and decide to have unrealistic expectations. She feeds into them. 😠

Anonymous said:

I have no expectation of Taylor coming out anymore. Zero. None. I have no expectation of her dropping Toe or even of Kaylor publicly reuniting. It doesn't even matter that much anymore. But I - do - expect 1 thing. Karlie to drop and completely dissociate herself from the Kushners and this has nothing to do with kaylor. It was everything to do with me being unable to support a person who willfully assists (now using her baby too) and receives money from a family that has made so many suffer.

Anonymous said:

A quick word from an ex-kaylor (who will never become an anti). A year ago, when the Trumps were still in power and untouchable and there was no baby, I was excusing and turning a blind eye to many things Karlie did for the K*shners. Even that dinner in September. I had also made peace with the truth never being revealed. But a year later the Trumps are gone, Karlie is still on full stunting mode now with a baby in the mix, a baby that is already being used by the Kushners, and I've really run out of excuses. Now the only thing that could possibly keep me on board is if I knew there was a good chance that the full truth would come out, so that Karlie's inexplicable and honestly borderline immoral actions could eventually make sense. But as your sub said, this is an unrealistic expectation, thus I became an ex-kaylor and I'm not planning to come back even when they reunite. 😕

Anonymous said:

What baffles me is that Taylor has explicitly expressed her regret about not giving her lover the credit she deserves and her doubt whether fame is worth hiding her true love: "when I walked up to the podium, I think I forgot to say your name", "what's a lifetime of achievement, if I pushed you to the edge". But yet again she didn't do anything to change this. I didn't expect her to acknowledge Karlie, but a nod or at least not falsely crediting her beard would be a good start.

Anonymous said:

1🙁 Let me chime in re: "expectations". I'm one of the kaylors who ever since the pregnancy reveal was trying to tell everyone there's NO way she was gonna dump him soon after birth let alone before that. It would bring too much unnecessary attention and Jerk would have never agreed to something that would make him look like a bad guy/husband. For the exact same reasons, I was also saying there's no way he wasn't going to post about the baby. All the above against the popular opinion back then.

2🙁 So I agree that the day of the birth post was known to T, not the timing though. Simply bc Kushner-leaning outlets made sure to note that detail. If they wanted it to go unnoticed, why draw attention to it? That being said, kaylors would have been more patient with this mess, if Karlie hadn't gone overboard with her freedom "smoke signals" last summer and Tay's "insiders" hadn't been insinuating that the end is VERY near. Both of them SHOULD have known by then how we would react to these.

3🙁 So it's natural that everyone feels played and has no patience for any more bullshit. Another sore point is how Jerk AND the Kushner-Trump klan monopolize the baby news. This isn't just to make it realistic, it's an abuse of Kaylor's baby's name to garner good pr for the worst family in America, with Karlie's blessing. In order for her marriage and split to appear realistic she's putting a LIFETIME burden on her child's back. Unless you believe she's eventually gonna say Jerk isn't the dad.

4🙁 So "we’re in a position we should realistically have been able to see coming". But we did see it coming, that why some made these extreme scenarios, bc this is the worst possible outcome. "Good people try to make it work, even in bad relationships." Ultimately this isn't just a "bad rs". It's a horrific association that should have been resolved ages ago, not one to bring your child into, doom it to suffer a similar fate, and expect people to sit idly and watch. That's what frustrates most.