#i was SO THROWN OFF BYEEEEEE

[tylorswift]

nothing snaps me up like the all too well 10 minute version because you expect her to continue “you tell me bout your past thinking ur future was me / and i know it’s long gone...” but then she just says “you tell me bout your past thinking your future was me....AND YOU WERE TOSSING ME THE CAR KEYS FUCK THE PATRIARCHY !” and ur just sitting there like 

#i was SO THROWN OFF BYEEEEEE #sometimes archi talks #taylor swift #all too well 10 minute version

[43sparrows]

d e s e r v e d - {Five x Reader AU}

WARNINGS: drunkenness, language

Word Count: 2,416

Note: r e j e c t but from Five’s perspective! Come scream at me in my inbox 

When Five comes back, there's a series of post-it notes next to the key rack written in Vanya's loose script. Call Y/N back. 

The next post-it is stuck to the first. Y/N called again & asked when you'd be back. Said it's not an emergency, but she does need you? Of course Vanya was confused by that. The code shouldn't be too hard to crack, but sometimes her wellmeaning-ness gets in the way of her astuteness. 

The last post-it is beside the first two: Out with Allison + Klaus at Don Pablo's. Come if you can!

It's a tempting offer after the day he's had. He loves Don Pablo's margaritas, and even if he doesn't want to put up with Klaus' nonsense or Allison's fans, he does love his siblings. 

But Y/N always calls him back when he needs her to. She deserves the same.

Before he can dial her number in, the flashing red light of the answering machine catches his attention. There are six messages.

Hey, it's Y/N again. I'm so sorry for calling too much. I just...I changed my mind if you want to come over. You don't have to, but I'll be here. All night. Bye. 

Hi. It's Y/N. I, um, I would love your company right now. Or like soon. Or you know, as soon as you're available. Unless you don't want--don't want to. That's cool too. Um, ok, sorry again for calling so much, bye.

In the next voicemail, he hears music in the background. Hi. I'm not trying to be needy. Everything's just shit, and you're not. So thanks for not being shit, and call me back. Or just come over. Whichever. Both. No, the second one. K, thanks, byeee.

The music is slightly louder, but her voice is even closer to the phone, almost muffled. Hi, hey, so, I just...I wish...I'm probably stupid, but I think I...yeah, no, nevermind, I'm stupid. Ok, byeeeeee.

The next voicemail starts out in the middle of her sentence. Or rather, lyric. -- thing that got me trippin' This one thing your soul made me feel it It's this one thing you did oh, oh-- Oh, shit. She giggles. It's your voicemail. Sorryyyyyy-- She cuts off then.

This song is softer, and her voice is more slurred than even the last message. What the fuck am I doing. What the fuck am I even doing? Look if you're with someone else, that's ok. It's ok. I get it. Ok? I get it. I'm sorry to keep calling. I don't know. I--I'm sorry. I hope you guys are happy together. You deserve to be happy. I just--fuck. There's a pause before she hangs up, and in the pause he catches the lyric: We'll be playmates and lovers, and share our secret worlds.

Margaritas will have to wait. 

He's in her living room in the next second, and he's never seen her like this. The voicemails were one thing--the range of emotions and descent into intoxication--but she's thrown a one person party, and it's one of the most goddamn pathetic things he's ever seen. He hates it. 

"Y/N?" he asks, and she falls off the fucking couch in her effort to turn around. 

"Five?" she asks, as if surprised to see him there. As if she hadn't called him eight times just to make sure he came. He nods. Her mood seems to have changed from the last voicemail at least, but this still seems all wrong. As wrong as it felt earlier to see her come to do the door with smudged mascara and a tight voice. 

"What are you doing?"

She doesn't respond right away, her face still screwed up in confusion. 

"Dancing. What are you doing?" She stands then, wobbly on her legs. She's never been the most graceful person, but if Five had to guess, he'd blame this on the assortment of empty bottles on her coffee table. There's too many of them and they're way too big. He can't tell if he should be impressed or concerned, so he settles on an emotion somewhere between the two.  

"You called me," he reminds, picking up a bottle of Tennessee honey whiskey. One of the two bottles that still has any liquor left in it. He wonders if he should drink this now or find a way to hide it from her. "Eight times. Did you drink all of these?" 

She scoffs, but seeing as she's drunker than he's ever seen her, he's not sure he deserves the derision. Scratch that, he's certain he doesn't deserve the derision. "No, they were mostly empty."

This makes him feel a bit better, but he's not completely sure he believes her. Instead, he does what he does best and runs some quick calculations in his head. Either she started before he stopped by earlier or in the past six hours she's done nothing but sit and drink. An uncomfortable feeling springs up in his chest at the thought of her turning him away so she can drink alone on her couch. He should have pushed her earlier on the lie. This isn't about work. She hates her job, he knows that, but not this much. There's something more.

"Are you going to tell me what's really going on now?" Five asks, facing her. She's silent for a moment before nodding. He thinks that she must be worse off than he thought when she begins searching around the newspapers on the floor, throwing page after page back down before finally thrusting a paper in his hands. It's an engagement announcement, which makes no sense until he begins to read and a lightbulb comes on when he reaches the names. "Your ex?"

She nods, bouncing with anticipation or maybe to the music. It's hard to tell. "He's getting married," she sings at him, and he winces at the offkey tune. His eyes fall back on the picture, and he takes in the bleached white smile, the girl's hand on the ex's chest flashing a ring too big and flashy to say anything but insecure. 

"Statistically, it'll only last eight years," Five says, his eyes returning to Y/N. She's attempting to lip sync with the song that's playing but is about two seconds behind the actual verse. There's an all too familiar twinge of anger in his chest. She's a complete mess over another man. 

Objectively this should only be a problem because he has enough messes to deal with between his siblings--he doesn't need her on the list too. But he'd be lying if that was the only reason he was angry. He'd be lying if that was a reason he was angry at all. She shouldn't be so upset by this. People get engaged. This guy dumped her. He didn't deserve this. It was over between them. 

He wonders if she held out hope of going back to him. He wonders if he's been nothing more than a distraction for her. 

He wonders why that idea bothers him. 

"You're still...in love with him?" he guesses, and a chorus of no's fall from her lips. The amount of protest is suspicious, but there's fire in her eyes as she moves towards him and grabs his arm. She stops then, squeezing his tricep, and he wonders if she's about to admit something. He doesn't know what he'll do if she does. 

"Y/N," he prompts, and she looks up at him with big eyes. Fuck. 

"I just wish I had something to shove in his face," she says. Fuck. 

"Something to show him how wrong he was about me. You know?" Fuck. 

"I'm fucking future material," she asserts, shaking her hands in his face. And then she retreats with a sigh, grabbing a hold of the only other bottle with liquid in it. "But it looks like he was right. The fucker was right. I'm a reject." 

She thinks she's a reject. 

She thinks she deserves this.

He snatches the bottle away from her before she even has the chance to take a sip.

"Hey," she shouts, grabbing at him, and Five turns away from her to finish it off before she can get to it.  She doesn't need any more alcohol, and he doesn't need any more truth. "Asshole," she grumbles. He's been on the receiving end of that word his entire life, but this is the first time he actually feels like one.

"You didn't need it," he tells her, placing the bottle back on the table before turning his back to her. He should get out of here. He should tell her to take a shower, drink some water, and go to bed. But instead, he's walking to her bedroom door. Because he can't leave. When he calls, she comes. Every time. She doesn't ask questions, doesn't push. She's steady. A constant. She deserves the same. She deserves more than this pathetic pity party. 

"Are you coming or not?" he asks her, and then she's moving towards him with alarming speed considering her present state, but not quite enough to make it into the bedroom at the same time as him. Instead, he finds himself alone for the moment, looking around the room he's so familiar with. The work clothes thrown at the closet door, the scattering of papers and chargers and books and pens on her desk. The seven goddamn candles, all at various heights and always lit whenever she's home. It's a fire hazard, but she refuses to let go of the habit. None of them are lit now, though. 

There's a large thudding sound outside the door, and he already knows what he'll find. Sure enough, she's on the floor, pants tangled in her legs, flailing with all of the dignity of Klaus. He sighs, walking back over to her, slightly relieved when she frees herself before he has to deal with being kicked for trying to help her.

Years of rescuing hostages and dragging around his brothers makes it easy for him to sling her over his shoulders. Thankfully she's allowing herself to be carried and not scared half of her mind which makes the journey significantly easier from the last time he had to do this to someone.

It's a bit of a process to fling back the covers so he can put her in bed. It ends with her more falling onto the mattress as opposed to being placed down, but he's thrown her on a bed enough times that she doesn't seem to mind the slight bounce as she hits the mattress. 

As she settles herself in, he starts cramming all of the stupid pillows he's normally tossing onto the floor behind her back so that she doesn't die. He feels a bit like Vanya, which has that bittersweet feeling blooming in his chest once more.

He's about to tuck the edge of the blanket under the mattress when she sits up slightly and pulls him in, bringing his lips to hers. She tastes like whiskey, but sweeter. There's no burn as her lips move against his with a surprising amount of dexterity. For a fleeting second, Five wonders if he can get secondhand tipsy from her kiss because it must be the alcohol that's causing the spinning feeling of intoxication in his head. 

He knows that's not it though. He knows he should pull away. There's a reason he stopped kissing her after their third time together. Why he only lets himself get tastes of her skin. But her tongue is slipping into his mouth, and she's drawing him in, pulling him closer to her. His whole body is practically buzzing to follow her lead, and it takes every inch of his willpower to pull himself  away from her and back out of her grasp. 

Her brow furrows in confusion as she drops back into the bed, her head hitting the pillow. "Youdon'wan'meei'er," she mumbles, and it's hardly more than sounds, but he understands.

"No. Not tonight," he says as he pushes the comforter between her mattress and boxspring. She sucks her teeth, turning away from him as he stands. Her eyes are closed, and there's still the small crease between her eyes. He shoves his hands in his pockets but keeps his eyes glued on her, and he can't bring himself to move until he sees the comforter rise and fall with her breath.

It would be irresponsible to leave her alone like this. He should stay at least until her roommate gets home. She deserves that much. 

Outside of the room, music is still blaring, so he walks out to turn it off. It takes a few minutes of searching to find her phone buried in the cushions so he can pause the playlist. When he comes back in, she curled up on her side, facing the edge of the bed. It makes him feel a bit better.

Five wanders over to her bookshelf, scanning the shelves before plucking out One Hundred Years of Solitude and then settles down on the other side of her pillow wall and cracks open the book. 

Her roommate still isn't back by 5 am, and Five is over halfway through the novel and almost an entire carafe of coffee down. He shuts the book slowly, turning to look at her. She's hardly moved since he put her in bed aside from the steady rise and fall of her breathing. If anything was going to happen, it probably already would have. 

Quietly, he stands up from the bed, returning the book to its space on the shelf. He exits the room into the still apartment, shutting off the lights as he goes. When he enters the kitchen, his eyes land on the mostly empty coffee pot. 

He should clean that. 

Instead, he dumps it out and sets up a new pot, making a calculated guess on when she will wake up. The aspirin is conveniently located next to the bags of coffee, and he takes that down as well, along with a clearly handmade mug that screams Y/N. 

He glances around the kitchen one last time before switching off the light and heading out to find the living room lightswitch. It's as he passes the coffee table that he pauses, his eyes falling on the page of the newspaper she threw at him hours ago. He takes it up, flicks off the light, and goes home. 

#five hargreeves #number five #number 5 #five hargreeves smut #number five smut #number 5 smut #five hargreeves x reader #number five x reader #number 5 x reader #tua fic #number 5 fic #number five fic #five hargreeves fic

[oftenderweapons]

Stress Reliever - Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x reader (nicknamed Candy)

Wordcount: 5.3k words

Genre: mild angst, smut, romance

Rating: 18+

Hi everyone! It’s the final scenario of Stress Reliever and this time it’s the Golden Maknae!!!

I bet you’re all excited to see what is he going to do to release some frustration with his s/o. Don’t expect him to go easy.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: angst-smut-fluff (the profane trinity) jealousy and mild angst at the beginning, s/o has a mild age kink and JK is not exactly okay with this. Big fat degradation kink and well... yeah. Unprotected sex within an established relationship (please, be careful!!!), edging, wall sex (yk....,.,..,,,,), kinda hard dom JK but not really? So much dirty talking my keyboard is burning and I had do erase my browsing history, oral (female receiving), ass, tiddies and pussy spanking (ups), anddddd likeeeee,.,.,.,,,,,,..... voyeurism. BUt most importantly PraISe KinNnNNNKKKKkkkkK I’m sorry this one is so bad I have no excuses, I’m a slut for praise kink, please it’s so bad I melt every time someone calls me baby and good girl even in a non sexual context and it’s so embarrassing I’m gonna explode byeeeeee-----

Here is my masterlist ❤

Wordcount: 5.3k, unedited. Enjoy!

—————————————————

“God, he’s so hot.”

Jeongguk ignored whatever it was that you were talking about on the phone with your best friend. It wasn’t his business anyway. 

Both you and the voice on the phone giggled. You were probably talking about some film or something. “Bet he could go for hours.”

Jeongguk tutted at that, his snack almost ready in the microwave, hoping he’d be able to leave the kitchen as soon as possible. 

“Yeah, I have Googie, and I would never make a move on anyone else, but what’s wrong with innocently commenting on some older dude? He’s absolutely daddy material, let me fantasise a little about that.” Again you giggled. 

Jeongguk frowned at that. He wished he didn’t have to listen. He felt guilty since you thought he wasn’t in the room. 

“Koo is wonderful. A dream, truly. Still I love me a tough, mature man, at least in my imagination, every now and then.” You sounded coy. 

Really? Jeongguk’s frown intensified. He felt like he didn’t want a snack anymore at this point. Like he wanted another kind of snack.

“And I love Koo. Don’t forget that.” You continued.

He cocked his head to the side and nodded at that. That was a good sign. 

“Still… Damn, look at him. He’s in his forties and looks like a sex god.” You commented about the male lead actor. 

Jeongguk snorted and huffed at that. One more minute, he considered, watching the timer of the microwave.

“No. Listen. Consider this. He’s the kind of man who can lead. You can tell. How could he be eager and impatient? He knows good things take time. That’s the thing about older men. Maturity. Experience. They know they need to take their sweet time. That was the only good thing about my ex. You know it.” Your voice was plain, almost neutral as you said this. Matter-of-factly. 

Jeongguk was sick of this by now. Did you think he was too eager? Too impatient? Too young and naive? That he couldn’t lead you? That he couldn’t take his sweet time?

Well, now he was in a mood and he had each and every intention to take it out on you. He propped himself against the entrance of the living room, waiting for you to notice him. 

Unfortunately for you, you continued your conversation. 

“Yeah, sometimes Koo has his teenage shenanigans. Tantrums and shit. But he’s my boy.” You confessed, voice slightly lower. “Still… Yeah, sometimes I think ‘what if…’”

What if what? He cleared his throat. 

You lifted your head and finally spotted him. Your mouth opened, and so did your eyes, wide like saucers. 

“Get off the phone.” He growled. 

You closed your mouth. “Gotta go.”

“He’s there, isn’t he?” Your friend asked. 

You nodded, then, realising you needed to verbalise, you whispered a little ‘yes’. 

Your friend wished you good luck before disconnecting the call. You put your phone down.

“Need to tell me anything?” Jeongguk asked, arms crossed and tattoos showing. You spotted the almost invisible initial of your name hidden in one of the black swirls of ink. 

“It was nothing serious. Just gossip.” You defended yourself. 

“Teenage shenanigans. Tantrums.” He recalled. “Guess this is one of those.” He accused. 

“It’s… not like that?” You tried finding an apology, realising how cliché it sounded only the moment it left your mouth. 

He moved closer, expression dark and upset. “How do you want to solve this?”

You bit your lip. “However you want to.” You were testing the waters, seeing what his mood was. 

“Then stand up.” He ordered. 

You blinked a couple times before following his direction. “Koo?”

“No talking.” he replied. “You already said enough.” He threw you over his shoulder, exasperated at your scene. 

You squealed and huffed in surprise. “Jeongguk!”

“Quiet.” He secured with his arm, landing a loud spank on your ass. 

Again you squealed. “What are you–”

“Can’t you understand ‘no talking’? I thought an experienced girl like you had to be smarter than this.” His anger was beginning to show and you were actually somewhere between turned on and scared. You had seen him sweet and enamoured and insecure and upset, but rarely truly angry. 

“Sorry.” You murmured softly as his steps made you wobble against his back. He was carrying you to bed. For sure. 

A few seconds later you recognised your bedroom, and you felt your body being thrown down, landing on the mattress. In a blink you found Jeongguk’s heavy body on top of yours, his mouth at your ear. “Am I not good enough for you?” He teased. 

“You know I love it.” You replied shyly. 

“You love the sex. But am I good enough for you?” He asked again. 

“Yes. Yes, you are, Koo.” You answered firmly. 

“Let’s see if you hate it so much. Sex with this eager, impatient, younger boy.” He provoked. He was moving so fast. He was moving lightning-fast, one moment he was fully dressed and the following he was shirtless and attacking your own clothes, unbuttoning your jeans, tugging at them and taking them off of you. “Bet you’re already drenched. You were so thirsting after that old man.” He threw your jeans behind him, somewhere off the bed. 

“I only want you, and you know it.” You bit back. 

“Stop lying.” He warned. He took off your shirt with angry pulls, almost ripping it, your body collaborating in fear he would hurt you in the process. “You fantasise.” He reminded you. 

No, you don’t. Not willingly, at least. Of course, you’re an adult woman and you’re free of thinking whatever you want. Of course if you see a charming man, you might think of him sexually. But that doesn’t mean you’re not satisfied with what you have. That you would give up your boyfriend for a fantasy. 

“Koo, you’re the only man I want to fuck.” You reassured him, putting your hands around his face, trying to calm him down. 

“So I’m a man now? Not a boy anymore?” he asked, unlatching your bra. 

“You’re always my man to me, you know it.” You hoped the sight of your breasts would make him sway a little. 

It didn’t.

“You called me your boy. Just back then, on the phone.” He bared you with frustrated tugs and pulls. 

“Am I not your girl?” You asked, touching him on his chest, his shoulders, his neck. Anything to express your need for him. 

“Not like I’m patronizing you.” He turned you around, smacking your ass again as he removed your panties, baring your behind. “So fucking condescending.”

You bit your lip, now profoundly sorry for the way you had treated him. “I said some very dumb things, Jeongguk, and I apologise.”

“Good. Now let me prove my point.” He agreed. 

“Want to fuck me good?” You asked, incapable of hiding your arousal. 

“You were talking so much shit that I think you’ve forgotten what this is about.” Another smack. 

Once more you found yourself lying on your back, your naked body now bare to his stare. His pants were tented at the front, the outline of his cock so delicious, thick and half hard. 

“Love, please.” Your hands moved to his waistline, reaching for his sex. 

“Oh, no. I’m taking my sweet time, ____. Starting from here.” He bent down and pressed a hard kiss to your lips, making you moan and whimper before his own mouth opened, his tongue disturbingly sensual and heavy in his assault to your mouth. You were now eager and impatient, while he took everything deliriously, deliberately slowly. “What next? Do you want your nipples licked?” He murmured.

You only nodded, your chest already feeling heavier and oversensitive. 

“Oh, no. That’s for boys. Boys latch onto their mommy’s tits. Men don’t do that, do they?” He replied, grabbing your breast aggressively, parting from your mouth before delivering a quick slap on the skin there. 

You barked out in pain, the sensation not unpleasant but rather surprising. 

“You like it?” He waited for your nod before repeating the gesture. “Is it how a real man would do this?” He asked. 

“Want your mouth, Googie.” You begged. 

“Googie… Ridiculous. Even in bed you treat me like a child.” He hit you again, this time harder. “Can’t take me seriously, can you?”

You were already on the verge of begging. 

“Such a lame show.” He let his hand venture down to your navel, down to your mound, and dive between your thighs. “Tell me, what is it that made you wet?”

You whined at the sensation of his fingertips there, incoherent babbling leaving your mouth. 

“Answer me, babe.” He urged.

Your eyes went wide at the word. He was using every single one of your earlier mistakes against you. Reminding you exactly what you’ve done wrong, but also showing you everything that had hurt him.

“You made me wet.” You informed him. 

“Me slapping your tits?” He snickered darkly.

“You wanting me. You looking always so fucking hot. You giving me everything I need. You being everything I’ll ever need.”

His eyes turned into cold slits. “You sure know how to sweet talk your ass out of problems, don’t you?” He cupped your heat, at which you parted your legs to invite him to make himself comfortable there, to give you his attention. In response he lifted his hand, only to let it land harshly on you. You screamed. Pleasure. Echoing through your veins. Running like wildfire inside your limbs and finally concentrating in your lower belly. “That might work with your boys. Remember? I’m your man tonight. And you’re in trouble, you silly, silly girl.”

Your first reaction was to fill your lungs with some fresh air, before writhing against his grip, the sheets burning your skin. "Jeongguk." 

"Yes?" He replied, looking you in the eye as his palm brushed against you. 

"I wanna be yours." 

"You want this impatient boy?" He asked, the muscles of his jaw tense. 

You tried kissing him, only brushing your lips against his. “I need you, Jeongguk. All of you. Now.”

“Don’t you want me to take my time?” He asked, slowly, oh-so-slowly, caressing your sex. “Don’t you want me to make you wet? Get you all ready and messy?”

“I love my impatient boy. And my meticulous man.” Your lips left a butterfly kiss just shy of his mouth, eyes closing. 

“Tell me how you want me.” He groaned. 

“However you want, Koo. You’re always so good.” Your hips pushed harder against his digits. “Do your best.”

“Then let me show you I’m always the best.” He murmured, his breath fanning over your face. He was laying on his side, hand still dipped between your thighs. He got rid of his sweatpants quickly, his underwear coming off in the same movement. You couldn’t help but watch, eyes entranced to the beauty of his nakedness. You could stare at him for hours. Unfortunately, he had other plans. 

Standing up from the bed he circled around it, looking at you like you were his prey, his prize. 

“Sit.” He ordered, pointing at the edge of the bed, right in front of where he was standing. Of course you were going to obey. His chiselled body was right there, for you to watch, touch and worship, your mouth just in front of his navel. His sex looked awfully flush, tip red with excitement, beaded in precum. You wanted a taste; however the palm reaching for him was stopped by his wrist. “My rules, brat.”

You inhaled sharply while he bent down, securing your legs around his waist. “Hold on tight, ____. Not gonna say it twice.” and with that he picked you up, like you weighted nothing.

Your arms snaked around his neck, legs tightening at his waist, crossing behind his back. 

“First here. Then we’ll see.” And with that he placed you against the wall, his mouth joining your neck, placing sloppy kisses and licks. “Do you want me to mark you or is it too childish?” He growled hard behind your ear. 

“Bite me, mark me, do whatever you want, I just need you inside, Koo.” You moaned, trying to lure him in. 

“Such a needy slut, uh?” He whispered at your ear. “This what you want?” And with that he pinned you hard against the wall, one hand guiding himself at your entrance and sliding into you in one smooth stroke, perfectly hitting your sweet spot at the first go. 

The small humming sound that rumbled in your throat found its twin on his lips. 

“I said, is this what you want, slut?” He teased you again. 

“Yes, Koo.” You muttered, only half coherent. 

He snickered. “Great.” Placing his hands on your ass, helping you up, he pulled out of you, his tip almost slipping out before entering again in full force. “That feels nice, doesn’t it?”

You murmured in confirmation, pressing harder against him. It was different from usual. He was thrusting in slower and deeper, enjoying your tightness, his eyes closed, his hair falling forward as he pushed into you. 

“So tight, baby, how come you’re still so fucking tight?”

“God, you’re so big.” One of your hands moved to his behind, grabbing his ass, groping it, enjoying the flashing of his muscles. His forehead fell on your shoulder, mouth wild on every single inch of your skin he met. 

“Like it?” He picked up the rhythm, just slightly, spurred by your moans and your dishevelled expression. Your bum kept hitting the wall, the thumping now obvious and obscene. 

“Harder.” You begged. 

“Dirty mess.” He giggled at your ear, looking at you and kissing you until you were breathless and your head was spinning. He parted from your lips and stared into your eyes, intensity pouring out of his obsidian stare. “Want more?”

“I need you to touch me there, love, please.” You asked, eyes closing as you implored. 

“Not yet, baby.” His pace was delirious by now, his legs growing tired but headstrong on reaching his orgasm. 

“Please, Jeongguk.” You whined, digging your heels in his back. 

“No can do, sweet thing. Now shut up.” And with that he rammed inside, using your upper back to keep you on the wall as his arms pushed and pulled your hips, fucking you onto him. “Grown men take what they want, don’t they?” He bit into your collarbone and let his mouth open wide, howling in pleasure, his cum filling you up. 

You were hanging on the verge of sanity. “Koo, no, please.”

He was leaning heavily in your arms, your body hanging like a picture from the wall. “That was so fucking good, ____.”

“Koo, please.” You cried out.

“You wanna cum, baby?” He teased. “Want me to make you cum, slut?” He bit your cheek playfully. “Take it to bed? D’you want that?”

Your body tensed again for his not-so-kind nickname. “Yeah, Koo.” You whined. 

“Good.” Little did you know that half a minute later he would still be inside you, sitting you on the soft headboard of the bed. He moved out of you, spinning you around and placing you bottom-up bent over the soft material of the board. “Be a good girl for me. Man, look at that ass. So hot, baby.” He slapped it playfully. “You ready baby?”

“What are you doing?” You asked, your ass up, your legs slightly dangling from the headboard as the tips of your toes brushed the floor, your stomach pressed against the dark leather. You tried shifting your weight to your arms, but Jeongguk trapped one of them behind your back. 

“You can use one to hold yourself up. No more than that, bitch.”

His filthy mouth made your blood feel inebriated, almost like being tipsy. 

Your hips were conveniently exposed, his mouth immediately identifying its target as he crouched down and started rubbing his lips against your sex. “Good?”

“Yes, yes. Yes...” You whispered, still chasing the high he had taken from you earlier. 

“Want me to make you cum?” He asked.

“Please.” You whined. 

“Such a cock hungry little thing.” He let his tongue loll out, the tip going to your front, rubbing against your clit. He kissed the skin there before speaking into your skin: “Be good.”

His tongue slipped inside you, licking away his seed, then spitting it out all over your slit, lubricating you again. “Can you cum without my fingers on your clit, baby? Can you come for an impatient boy licking you?” He bit into the curve your ass. 

“Jeongguk, I’m sorry. Please.” You implored.

“You consider yourself a woman when all you truly want is for me to turn you into my little girl.” He kissed the side of your thigh, his right hand heavily palming and groping your ass. By now you felt like bursting at the seems, arousal coming off your limbs in waves. Jeongguk, buried between your legs, took your salty scent in, delivering small bites to your labia and sucking your clit viciously. 

You only needed more pressure. 

“Come on, slut, cum for me so I can get inside you again.” He teased, repositioning you with his spare hand and now adding more strength to the movements of his tongue. 

The change was immediate. You could feel it in your belly. “Koo, I’m—” next thing that left your mouth was a long scream, rattling your bones, resetting you entirely. 

“That’s a good girl.” He said in the most patronising, condescending and sarcastic tone he could muster. You felt your lungs ignite. “Are you gonna stay still now after you got what you wanted? Let me fuck that need for older men out of you?”

He was angry again. He was angry still. 

“I said dumb stuff.”

“‘Cause you’re a little dumb doll, aren’t you?” His voice came from somewhere behind you, above you. You turned to search for his face but he used his big hand to press your face against the pillow below you. “Dumb, disobedient doll. Stay put.”

You closed your eyes and tried to press your behind to his pelvis. “I’m begging. Jeongguk. I love you.”

“Oh, so you love me now.” His length lingering on your entrance suddenly slammed into you. “You love me?”

“Yes!” You screamed, hoping that the walls would keep your sounds inside the room.

His hand pinned both of your wrists behind your back. “More than your ex?”

“Yes! I’ve never loved anyone like you, Koo.” You mewled, desperate.

"Has he ever fucked you this good?" He grunted, bending down to your ear. 

"No Jeongguk, I swear. You're the best."

"That’s right. I'm the fucking best." He rammed into you recklessly, his head falling forward as he stood and helped your hips back, the tip of your feet now pressed more steadily against the floor, removing some pressure from your abdomen.

He probably didn't even realise that the position was getting uncomfortable, and you were grateful for the shift, even if it made his thrusts deeper and more difficult to resist. 

“How can you want it calm and patient when you love being my fuckdoll, uh?” He pulled out and smacked your ass hard, then plunging in again. “When you need a young—” thrust— “inexperienced—” thrust—“impatient little boy—” thrust— “to fuck your brains out?”

You moaned and pushed yourself toward him, the sound of your flesh squelching and smacking echoing in the room. 

His hand climbed around your waist, dipping down your navel and meeting the apex of your labia. “Did your ex ever fuck you like this?”

“No Jeongguk.” You replied meekly. 

“Did he ever make you cum like this?” He asked, torturing you with his devious fingers. 

“No, Jeongguk.”

“Did he ever make you speechless with his cock?” He growled, sinking into you and shifting his hips to push small little circles deep against your cervix. 

“No…” you hummed, barely responsive.

“You’re gonna cum so good on my cock, doll. You’re gonna be a slut for it, drool on it for the rest of your life.” He swore, filthy and almost unconscious. 

Were you more coherent, you would have realised how fucked out he was, but unfortunately you were twice as gone as him and in no time your mouth formed his name in a strangled breath before your body twitched around him, your hands gripping on your forearms, still in the position he’d put you in even though his grip was no longer controlling you. 

“Cumming on my dick. Such a dumb little girl for it, uh?” He provoked you, even though your mind was miles high, seeing stars dance in your peripheral. “Take it all. Enjoy it. It’s the only one you’re gonna get, slut.”

And with that he grabbed hold of your hips and started bouncing your bum against his crotch, hammering into you, lasting only a minute before grunting your name and growling against your spine, falling forward and then snapping back, head bent away from you as he used you as his personal toy. 

When you felt him stop you dared turn around. He was magnificent. 

Hair plastered to his forehead, face and torso glimmering with sweat, the veins of his arms popping out like highways under his skin. 

“Koo.” You murmured, looking for your boy, your comfort, your safe place. 

“Only a second, sweetheart.” He exhaled, his skin blushing with exertion. “I know I can get another one, just give me time, baby.”

“Koo, I—“ You objected, but he stopped you.

“It’s not you. It’s me. I want it.” He warned with a stern tone. “Don’t you dare think this is about you, doll. Can you choose where you want it or are you too fucked out for that?”

Jeongguk helped you up and pulled you to his chest, the pose half affectionate and half controlling. “You know me best. I know you’ll choose what is best for me.” You whined in an attempt of flattery — even though it was absolutely true. He does know you best. You know he will always choose what’s best for you because he loves you. He adores you. 

He carefully drew out of you, kissing your spine delicately. You still had to understand what was his current mood. “Turn around.”

You obeyed, your eyes naturally focusing on his chest, right in front of your face. He pinched your neck and turned your head upwards, toward his awaiting gaze. You knew there were many things he was trying to say right in that moment with nothing but a glance. You knew how the words got stuck in his throat and how they would stumble and shake before falling from his lips, how they would sound tiny and hurt and heartbroken, but also fond and fiery and faithful. 

You knew all his favourite words, the ones he spoke so little, the ones he kept closer to his heart in fear that their power would diminish once they finally made it out.

He kissed you one, two, five, ten, twenty times, small pecks and butterfly kisses, Eskimo kisses with the tip of his lovely nose, and wet, sloppy kisses on your neck. He combed your dishevelled hair and kissed it too, then your hands, then your wrists and then your eyelids. Your forehead and your brow, the tender skin behind your ear, the softness of your cheeks. 

Picking you up, he kissed you again, his mouth possessing yours, lost in the tenderness and passion of you. You felt like a small boat in a wide, calm sea, nothing but the horizon all around you, his waves lulling you, his voice and his lips leading you towards a safe haven, surrounded in peace. 

“I love you, Googie.” You breathed softly against his open mouth. 

“Let me show you.” He replied, again carrying you exactly where he wanted. 

Your walk in closet was enormous, with wide wardrobes along the walls, a couple mirrors multiplying the images of you and him. 

“Here.” He said, placing you on the comfy seat in the middle of the small room.

In here he would see your every angle and reaction. There would be no escape from the blatant ruination he would unleash over your body. 

His hand was already cupping his sex, palming and pumping it as he used his other arm to pry your legs open, his head sinking there. He bit into the skin of your thighs, sucking and kissing with a hunger you had never thought existed. His favour stopped just shy of your entrance, watching as his release spilled and stained your skin. 

“Amazing.” He murmured reverently, leaning into your knee as if he was on the verge of sanity and you were the only thing pinning him to reality. “Tell me I’m the only one you want.”

“You’re the only one I want. The only one I love.” You wasted no time as you comforted him, giving him that safety net he so desperately craved.

“Tell me you won’t leave me,” he begged, closing his eyes as if the thought caused him physical pain. 

“I’ll be by your side, always.” You promised, caressing his hair. 

“Look,” he pointed to the mirror on your side, to your seated figure and his kneeling one. 

“Koo. Are you ready? I need you so bad.” You whined, your eyes leaving the reflection only as you ended your request.

“Want you on your knees, belly on the seat.”

He gave you the space to manoeuvre down from the seat, on your knees, right as he wanted you.

“Look straight ahead, doll. Look at that.” He teased, his hand pointing towards the mirror in front of you. “Look at your tits pressed up against the seat. They’re so soft… They must be so fucking sensitive by now.” His hand stroking himself dragged his tip against your skin, moistening you evenly as he got ready once more. 

“I’ve neglected them today.” He caressed your back and kissed your neck. “I’ll take good care of them tomorrow morning. Would you like that?” He asked, mischievous. 

“Yes, Koo.” God, you weren’t even sure you knew other words by now, so possessed by your need for him. 

He put just the head of his cock inside you, enjoying the immediate fluttering of your insides. “Want more, doll.”

With a humming, senseless groan you backed your ass into his groin. 

He snickered sarcastically. “Fuckdoll.”

You felt every inch of him enter you, violating your flesh. 

“That’s it. I’m gonna ruin you.” Jeongguk growled visciously as he bottomed out. 

“Please.” You moaned as you looked at his face from the reflection in the mirror. He was using his hand to press against your lower back.

“Taking me so well, slut. So hungry for it.” He was lost in the reflection too, moving slow and deep. 

“Only for you.” You whined, praising him. 

“No one can do it like us. No one.” He twisted your head to the side, the other mirror welcoming you. “There’s no one else for us.”

God, he was wordy today. You were basking in it. You loved how he wanted you to see, to hear everything. He was often wild but shy and today was truly exceptional for many reasons. “Googie, touch me, I’m getting close, please.”

“You keep saying please, baby. So polite today, uh? Might have to fuck you like this more often.” He provoked you. 

“Look how fucked out you are, doll.” He snorted. “You’re so hot.” He keened.

You watched the way his muscles moved, his pecs flexing and relaxing as he dragged your hips along his shaft. “No one can get you this hot.”

“No.” You whined out, desperate for more, for anything, for everything he was willing to give you. 

“You’re a slut for me alone, uh?” He smacked your ass once more, pulling out of you entirely and slapping his length over your soft backside. “Dirty fuckdoll.”

“I’m your toy, Koo. Use me.” You pleaded, searching for him with your hands, needing him close, closer, melted into you. “Please.”

“How can I say no to my needy slut.” He giggled before changing his angle, his arm infiltrating beneath your torso, between your breasts, towards your neck.

His other hand slithered to your front, his thrusts more subdued now that his leverage was weaker between your thighs and against your collarbone. The slow-down however helped you focus on your clit, on his fingers there on the way he was touching you in that “I’m not playing, you’d better cum in the next two minutes” mood. 

“You’re getting tighter, doll. D’you like my hand so much?” He teased with an accusing tone. “You must be close, mh?”

“So close, Koo.” You chirped.

“Come on, then.” His thrusts slowed even more, making you feel full to the brim and once they paired with his fingers you found yourself coming apart. 

“Yeah, babe. So fucking tight. Cum for me.” He spoke on your skin, body completely twisted and twined with yours. His tongue ran against your spine, his throat producing small, deep grunts as his pleasure exploded and spilled inside you. “Yes, doll. Fuck babe. Amazing.” He howled, arching into you, sticking to you like a second skin. 

“You look so damn lovely, doll. I love you so fucking much.” He whispered, heavy at your back, his hips stilling. “I bet nobody’s ever fucked you like this.”

“No.” You confirmed. “Nobody has. Nobody ever will.” You pressed a kiss to his hand, close to your face and cupping your cheek. 

As if coming back from a trance, he batted his lashes intensely, kissing your face. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, Googie. It was… incredibly hot. Definitely on your top three best performances. I will definitely write this day down on the calendar. We can celebrate it like an anniversary.”

“Hot fuck in the closet day.” He murmured, half asleep on top of you. “I like that.”

You smiled. “Can we get to bed? My knees are a bit sore. Actually I’m a bit sore all over.”

He nodded, waiting a couple seconds before parting from you and helping you up, carrying you to the bathroom and cleaning you up silently, taking care of you before dropping both of your heavy bodies on the bed. 

“I said ugly stuff.” He confessed. 

“I did too.” You admitted. “You know, I might think that older men are charming, but that’s as far as it goes. And I might have said stuff about my ex, but hey, there are multiple reasons why he’s my ex.” You caressed his face and kissed his hair as he laid his head on your chest. “And I’m here with you. No charming old man, no patient ex will ever change the fact that I love you.” You reassured him. “That you’re a dream come true.” You held his hand and intertwined your fingers. 

“I just… I’m always afraid of the things I can’t give you.” He whispered, insecure. As if he hadn’t given you his everything… 

“I will love you for all the things you can give me, Googie. And we will learn to compromise about the things we can’t give each other. That’s how it works.” You brought his hand to your lips, pressing them against every inch of it. 

“I’m sorry about the bad words.” He said with big doe eyes, lined with silvery tears. “I hope I didn’t insult you or upset you.”

“Would you worry if I said I liked that a bit?” You looked into his eyes tenderly, trying to dissolve his shyness. “But I hurt you with my words, so I want to know now.”

Your conversation went on for almost half an hour, his body warm and comfortable next to yours, the feeling of safety encouraging him to bare himself, showing you his darkest, most vulnerable sides.

By the end of the afternoon you both felt loved and appreciated, cared for and adored. With his head heavy on your chest, your heartbeat playing in his ear, Jeongguk realised you would always be his one.

#bangtan sonyeondan #jungkook smut #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #bts smut #kpop smut #jungkook fanfiction

[misterewrites]

Secret Agent Bard (Welcome to the Underground!)

Hello everyone! E here with a new chapter of the underground! Woo! I hope you are all doing good and staying safe.

So I actually have more to say today! That's a trip. I’ll have an author’s note under the line. 

So that's it for now. Stay safe, take care of you and your loved ones, stay out of trouble, wash your hands, wear your mask, get vaccinated if you can and push to release the vaccine world wide cuz we're all in this together. Have a great week and thanks for reading. I appreciate it and feel free to tell your friends, reblog, drop likes and feedback i love it all. Bye for now and enjoy!

If you want an easier place to read the story cuz tumblr sucks sometimes here’s a link to the chapter https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814297/chapters/79541746

The First Chapter: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814297/chapters/68094967

and since you made it this far here’s a link to all my stories!

https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrE42/pseuds/MrE42

Byeeeeee!

Author’s note:  Today’s work will be a little different as there will be singing. The chapter with the bard is gonna have singing? Go figure haha So if you see a sentence in Italics, that means someone is singing. Bold and italics represents various people singing as a group. The song in question is called twiddles. There's different versions of it but the one I chose is from the misbehavin maidens. Great group but all their work ranges from innuendos to straight up not safe for work so listen at your peril. I have now completed my responsible adult duties haha. here’s a link to the chosen song https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iS1-_fKF5ug

Summary: Oliver has quite the task ahead of him as the group splits to achieve their goals. Leading Sel and Flora, the young bard will have to think quick on his feet to ensure this mission is a success. Luckily he's an old hand at this. Ironically the one person who could distract him may make a surprise appearance tonight.

-----

Oliver stood quietly, arms crossed and his mind thoughtful as the group prepared to go their separate ways. While ideally nothing would go wrong, that was a childish belief: Every person and robotic being here knew safety was not guaranteed in their line of work.

Even the old man knew the risks.

Oliver hated doing nothing. He thrived when he was busy, focused on whatever task required his attention whether it be being a better bard or upholding the Choir’s values. Too many ghosts and regrets lingered on the edges of his mind and he found the best solution was to simply keep occupied.

But that was his coping mechanism, not everyone else. He knew better than to rush his team: The party would last at least another few hours and beside the goal of getting Sel to the third floor, there was nothing else to do. No information to gather, nothing to review. Let them have their moment, it was good for morale.

Terri and Flora were sickeningly adorable: Hands clasped tightly with Terri tearfully asking her girlfriend to not poison everyone. Flora gave a halfhearted promise while as they shared a tender kiss. Terri noticed her less than enthused tone but refused to press the matter further.

Tyrell stood awkwardly to the side, his face twisted in a strange mixture of sick and excited. He fidgeted with something in his pocket, seeking comfort from whatever lay within. Given the shape of the bulge and size, Oliver guessed it was a knife.

Sel stood nearby, motionless in the shadows of the alley. They hadn’t moved in some time though he suspected the automaton was simply waiting for the next phase of the plan.

“Alright” Oliver spoke up, his voice firm yet gentle “Times up. You have your assignments?”

Uneven murmuring responded.

“Let’s go.”

Oliver, Sel and Flora went down one end of the alley, Terri and Tyrell disappearing in the opposite direction.

-----

It didn’t take long for the trio to find the main streets of the Merchant Ward and make their way towards the Brambleoak banking office. The crowds weren’t as thick as they had been during the day but Oliver knew everyone out and about did so with a purpose.

“Bard.” Flora asked without warning, breaking the awkward silence “Question.”

“Answer.” Oliver cheekily replied.

Flora glared.

Oliver coughed “Yes?”

“You are a First Chair Soprano correct?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Yet you are so young. How did you manage that? I thought First Chair ranks were only reserved for experienced or particularly skilled members. You don’t seem to be very magically powerful.”

Oliver paused for a moment, trying to best answer the question.

In a way Flora was correct in her assessment: He wasn’t particularly powerful as a spellcasting bard. Unlike Flora who clearly committed herself fully to nature and thus druidic magic, Oliver had only recently thrown himself into the magical arts.

Unless you were a wizard who studied the secrets of the universe with a very intimate and well versed knowledge of magic, most spellcasters drew their power from sources of existence: Clerics from their gods, Druids from nature, Warlocks from something beyond mortal existence yet not quite a deity, sorcerers because a family member fucked around with pure incomprehensible concepts. Magic was the fabric of the universe and the more you threw yourself into a source of power, the more the source threw itself into you, guiding your hand and your spells.

Of course each, wizards exempt, were limited in their spellcasting options. Clerics were powerful holy/unholy practitioners but couldn’t command plant life to save their lives. Druids were in tune with nature and the weather and all the lovely flora and fauna but ask them to superimpose an image onto something and they’d give you a dumbfounded look. Warlocks kinda just do whatever their sugar patrons felt like lending.

Magic bards drew their power from the arts: Drawing, singing, poetry, even witty and funny satire. Bards were in tune with life, with existence. Art could heal, could hurt, could make you feel happy and sad. It could make you feel like a whole new person or perhaps take you to a time and place you’d forgotten. Bards sung the song of life and Oliver was no exception.

However, Oliver still wasn’t sure what he could do exactly. His magical muscle was average on a good day and he could only cast a few spells before needing a good night’s rest. The basic healing spells and comprehension language he cast earlier today had taken a good chunk of his energy but he relied more on his wit than raw magical strength. He discovered creative and useful ways to cast his spells like amplifying dissonance noises to distract and disorient foes or temporarily place another person’s image over himself. Magic was as much about creativity as it was skill, pushing the limits of what you can do with your particular brand of spells.

“I’m clever.” Oliver answered honestly “The whole magic of the arts is new to me but I’ve been in the Choir for a long time now. I used to be Tenor like Sel here but more fast talking than breaking and entering. I guess they carried over my old position into my new one.”

Flora nodded, satisfied “That answers much. How long have you been a bard?”

“Few years now.” Oliver checked the street sign to ensure they were on the right path “The magic part is going on 3 years.”

“I see.” Flora scratched her chin “I’ve been a druid my whole life so it is a strange concept to be so new to the spellcasting arts yet hold such a high rank.”

Oliver gave a casual shrug “Not sure what you want me to say. We’re here by the way.”

The bank looked as unkempt as Oliver had remembered: Faded, peeling green paint with gaudy gray stone pillars. Two guards in green uniforms stood in front of the massive reddish brown doors that led into the bank.

“Lea’s mercenaries.” Sel pointed out “They are not letting anyone in.”

“Correction.” Oliver brushed off nonexistent dirt from his washed-out outfit “They’re not letting nobodies in. Luckily tonight we’re somebodies. Follow my lead.”

Oliver let out a tense breathe before strolling forward, his mannerism cocky yet unsteady. He reached the top of the steps when two sharp looking blades reached out to stop him.

“Halt” The elvish woman spoke with a hint of irritation “You lost?”

“Not at all!” Oliver beamed with a smile that was too wide to be natural “I’m here for the party. There is a party inside no?”

“No” The human man spat out.

Oliver gave a forgetful grin “Oh? I could’ve sworn Brambleoak was having some sort of charity event tonight. I’d show you my invite but I think I misplaced it.”

The elvish woman sneered “Right. How convenient for you having lost your special one of a kind invite.”

“Pfft.” Oliver scoffed “Special one of a kind invite? Reiner hands them out like candy. Probably find one in a gutter nearby.”

The guards shared an unspoken understanding with one another.

“Well.” The human began “Let’s pretend that is true.”

“It is but go on.”

The human’s eyes narrowed “Why should we let you in? You dress rather poorly for someone claiming to be in Reiner’s usual circles.”

Oliver let out an exaggerated gasp as he puffed out his chest “Do you know who I am?”

“Umm no.”

Oliver growled unhappily, his fist clenched tightly within his pocket “I am rich! I AM POWERFUL! AND I DEMAND ACCESS!”

As quick as lightning, Oliver flung a handful of gold coins towards the pair. The two reeled back in surprised as the money clanked onto the smooth marble floor. A moment hardly passed before the guards were shoving the loose coins into their tunic pockets like hungry dogs. They straightened up, eyes alive with greed.

“Of course sir” The elvish woman bowed her head in apologize “Deeply sorry for that.”

“Please go ahead.”

Oliver gave a self satisfied nod before moving past the pair only to stop as he heard the sounds of swords scraping each other. He turned backwards to see the guards barring access to Flora and Sel.

Flora looked back and forth between the guards, her eyes calculating and cold. Sel stood still but clearly at the ready for any sort of trouble.

“They’re with me.”

The Elvish woman shook her head “We said we’d let you in. These two? Definitely not Reiner’s usual prey.”

“They aren’t” Oliver admitted “But I need them.”

The human turned to him, suspicion in his eyes “Why?”

“She…” Oliver pointed lazily towards Flora “Is my street doctor.”

“Street doctor? As in….?”

Oliver gave a cheery wink “The fun kind.” And for give measure, he added a weak shiver to his act “Ugggggh I feel cold, are you cold? It’s cold.”

Before anyone could say anything, Oliver began shaking. He rubbed his hands for ‘warmth’ while swaying back and forth.

“Uh oh.” Flora spoke dully, pushing past the guards and holding Oliver steady “He’s crashing. I need to give him his umm medicine.”

“Medicine?” Oliver repeated, his voice soft yet manic “Yes medicine. I need it. I NEED IT!”

Folks began to turn their way, the guards shifting uncomfortably under the sudden attention they were receiving.

“And this one?” The Elvish woman gestured to Sel.

Oliver began to rock back and forth, his voice a harsh whisper. “Guard. Guard. Guard guard guard guard.”

The human threw up his hands in defeat “Bah! Get him in there and fixed! Any trouble and I’ll personally come over to beat your asses.”

“Thank you sir.” Flora murmured through gritted teeth. She guided Oliver and Sel through the doors and into the party within.

Flora sighed as Sel cracked the tension out of their fingers. Oliver straightened up, wiping the sweat from his brow.

True to his expectations, the bank had been altered to be suitable for a charity event: Torches lined the walls, casting the building into a bright light. The desks normally found on the floor were gone as to allow a more spacious setting. Oliver counted a handful of guards scattered about, wandering about for any sign of trouble. All except for the lone guard beyond the empty elevated platform who stood in front of the stairway to the upper floors.

“What now?” Flora asked

“Split up. Sel stay close to the door, Flora and I will figure out a distraction.”

“Sounds good.”

And without another word, Oliver was swallowed whole into the crowd.

-----

It had taken an hour for Oliver to figure out what kind of distraction he would need.

The patrols themselves hadn’t been very difficult to plan for: They would move randomly about, keeping an eye on the party and each other. He counted about 6 of them total and each one of them was easily starstruck. At the sign of any disagreement, they would swarm in groups of three and quickly threaten any troublemakers into compliance. However, upon meeting anyone with even the smallest bit of fame, they would subtly motion to each other and make their way as one to the person in question, hoping for a glance or the chance for an autograph.

So the floor guards were no problem but the one standing watch over the door was much more difficult. Evidently Lea was smart enough to give the most important job to the most responsible of his idiots. The stairway guard or Stairy as Oliver labeled him, would not budge at the sign of any trouble. Loud arguments, agitated party goers, a waiter being tripped (sorry it was for science buddy). None of these would pull him from his post. Celebrities wouldn’t either. Any time his buddies motioned to a famous person, he would shrug his shoulders and stay put.

Oliver was beginning to wonder if Flora needed to poison Stairy until he noticed something about half way into his observations: Stairy was a music lover. Specifically a cute girl music lover.

His gaze would wander every time he caught sight of a pretty girl who happened to be too close to him. Oliver wasn’t sure at first so he decided to test his theory. With his pocket change lessened, Oliver noticed how often a girl would catch Stairy’s eye. His attention didn’t shift when they fell in front of him, obviously in distress, or walked slower allowing him to enjoy the view longer but Oliver caught him smiling and tapping his foot when the odd girl would sing. He even staggered away from his door a few steps at a time before catching himself and returning to his post.

So the best distraction would be a girl who could sing and have some level of fame attached to her name.

Oddly specific and Oliver hadn’t the slightest idea how he was going to mange that. He was attempting to solve this puzzle when something caught his ear.

“Get off me you mulched dirt licker!”

That rather unique set of cursing could only mean one thing: Flora.

Oliver turned to where he last spotted her and found the young druid being hassled by a tall man in an elegant uniform.

Oliver noticed the guards were looking about, not yet spotting the commutation but aware something was going on. He needed to act first if he wanted to stop Flora deciding to kill everyone in the room.

The bard quickly slipped into the crowd, darting and weaving between any and everyone he could. He saw Flora slip a small vial into her hand as the man towered over her.

“I jus wanna dance.” the man’s words slurred out of his mouth “A pretty thing like yo shou wanna dance”

Flora’s eyes narrowed angrily “For the last time you dried poop stain, LEAVE ME ALONE!”

Flora pulled back her hand, prepared to throw the mysterious vial at the drunk’s face.

“Whoa!” Oliver cried out, tightly grasping onto Flora’s wrist “What seems to be the problem?”

“Nothing I can’t solve on my own.” Flora coldly glanced towards the drunken man.

“One sec.”

Oliver eyed the man carefully, absorbing every little detail he could.

He could see the muscles strain against the fabric of his light green tunic so this man worked in something physically laborious. The sheathed sword on his belt weight seemed to throw him off balance with every step. His gaze was unsteady and Oliver could see his pupils dilating wildly.

So this man was physically fit, armed with a sword in a charity event for the rich people and wearing light green tunic while currently drunk.

“You should leave her alone” Oliver said, sarcasm dipping from each word “You are so not her type.”

“So?” The man hiccupped “What’s the big deal?”

“So she’s got a girlfriend you idiot.” Oliver gestured with his hand “Besides you should go before your boss Lea gets here. I’m betting he won’t be happy one of his undercover mercs is currently drunk on the job. Of course I could always tell your captain what’s going on. That’s him over there right?”

Oliver gestured to the closest guard making his way towards the trio. He didn’t look any different than any guards but Oliver noticed his green was a shade darker than the rest. Lea probably used different hues to signify rank in his mercenaries.

The drunk’s face paled as he fidgeted nervously. He rose his hands in surrender, eyes darting between the two “Sorry.”

“Any trouble?” The captain approached, his hand tightly held around the hilt of his blade.

Oliver beaned cheerfully, trying his best to pull attention away from the fuming Flora “Not at all my good sir. This man simply mistook us for someone else, correct?”

The drunk nodded slowly “My bad. Forgive my intrusion.”

The captain gave a cold smirk “Apologizes. Mikey?”

The drunk flinched “Yes sir?”

“A word in private. Now.”

Oliver let out a sigh of relief as the captain dragged Mikey away..

“You should’ve let me poison them.” Flora muttered darkly.

Oliver scratched the back of his neck tiredly “Night’s still young. Still might get your chance if I can’t figure a way past Stairy.”

Flora tilted her head quizzically “Stairy?”

“The asshole at the base of the stairs.” Oliver answered absentmindedly as he spotted a familiar streak of platinum blonde hair among the crowd of strangers “And I just figured it out. Can I trust you not to poison everyone here?”

“You have an hour. I get bored easily” Flora swirled the sickly purple liquid in the vial threateningly.

“You and me both.” Oliver patted her shoulder before chasing down his perfect distraction.

-----

Oliver’s heart began to thunder loudly in his ears, a nervous and uncontrollable energy overtaking his resolve. The mission was important but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t happy to see Maria today.

Maria Thoreau was the daughter of a powerful, influential family. The Thoreau’s were more concerned with their standing in high society than any virtuous endeavors and thus each one of their children was trained from birth to excel in their chosen field. Maria’s older brothers were an aspiring politician and merchant respectively.

Maria’s path was to be a well famous singer and patron of the arts. She wanted nothing more than to sing for the people. Unfortunately, her father only saw a chance to further the family’s good name and tied his desire for power with her passion and dream. It was bittersweet really but nothing much could be done about it.

Yet.

Maria knew Oliver as a musical rival who thwarted her group’s attempts at winning local competitions which in turned derailed her father’s plans. So needless to say she was less than thrilled when she caught him making his way over.

“Ollie” she forced a smile while her hazel eyes narrowed, peeved “I’m surprised to see they let you into this exclusive event.”

Oliver gave a cocky shrug “Well your beauty caught my attention and I couldn’t resist trying to figure out a way in.”

Maria’s cheeks burned a pinkish hue.

Maria was the same age as Oliver with short, tastefully cut dark brown hair. A single streak of platinum blonde hair hung off the side of her face, giving her such a cute look. Her clothes were practical tonight since she wasn’t performing: A simple white blouse with a long flowing dark blue skirt that went all the way down to her feet. Her shoes were sensible dark blue flats designed for comfort over style.

Maria coughed into her hand, willing her blush away.

“So.” She cleared her throat “Is this your sad attempt to throw me off my game? You won’t win the next competition. We’ll be dealing with professional judges this time.”

Oliver’s eyes widen in false surprise “There’s a competition here? Fancy that. I hadn’t been made aware of that but since we’re both in town, why not have a round two?”

“Oliver….”

“I mean” Oliver went on, pretending not have heard “You are a much better singer solo than with those harpies you’re forced to keep around.”

Maria glanced to the side timidly “Don’t be absurd, the Melodic Maidens are a perfect, well oiled machine.”

Oliver scoffed dismissively “I suppose they’re nearby, listening in. Hardly leave you alone, don’t they?”

Maria opened her mouth to respond when a shrilly voice cut in.

“What do you know you two bit hack? How much did you bribe the judges last time?!”

Oliver gave a strained smile as the rest of the ladies forced their way into view.

“Lilly, Filly, Sally. You suck.”

The triplets snarled in unison, openly glaring at the bard.

Lilly, Filly and Sally were Maria’s chains: They were as much there to further her career as they were to report back to daddy to ensure the errant daughter stayed on course.

As triplets, they all shared the same features: Three pairs of dull green eyes and long messy black hair. Even their clothing were the same with each wearing a strapless dress that showed way too much skin and skirts that were way too short. The only reason Oliver could tell them apart was due to their preferred colors: Lilly in a shade of pink that was bright for her skin tone, Filly with a pale ugly yellow and Sally in seas of dark red.

The trio surrounded Maria, their arms embracing her in an uncomfortable hug. Maria bit her lip, trying to hide her uneasy.

“Still wearing that tacky outfit huh Ollie?” Lilly eyed his faded clothing distastefully.

Sally let out an unfriendly laugh “Ollie always looks like trash. Not even prize money could buy an ounce of class.”

“Actually” Oliver brushed his shoulder dismissively “Class is cheap. No amount of money could buy an ounce of character. You can blow hot air at me all you want but nothing in this world could ever change the fact that the three of you are bitches.”

The trio clicked their tongues disappointingly, their normally plain faces twisted into unflattering visages of rage while they screamed as one.

“HOW DARE YOU INSULT US?!”

“YOU ARE SUCH A POOR TACTLESS MAN!”

“YOU FUCKER!”

Oliver casually waved his hand “All bark and no bite. I’m supposed believe you’ve gotten any better in two months? Last time I checked I won the last competition.”

“OH YEAH?!” The triplets yelled, furious.

Maria threw a suspicious glance Oliver’s way “Girls, I don’t think…”

“Come on Maria, we don’t want to have to tell daddy you backed down from a challenge.”

A shiver ran down her spine, the fight draining out of her face. Oliver felt a tinge of guilt but said nothing as the girls took their positions.

Maria paused for a moment, her breathing slow and calm. The murmur of the crowds grew louder and louder upon the recognition that the ladies nearby were the Melodic Maidens.

Maria pivoted on her heels, a bright warm smile gracing her lips. Oliver could feel his heart skip a beat at the sound of her soft, airy voice beginning to sing

“Oh you hear a lot of stories about the sailors and their sport” Maria gave a playful wink his way. His cheeks burned brightly at her playful banter.

“About how every sailor has a girl in every port”

Maria twirled, her steps mischievous and alluring as her dark blue dress chased after her. She gracefully held two fingers aloft for everything to see, her smirk cocky and assured.

“but if you added two and two you’d figure out right quick”

Maria backed up as the triplets step forward to join her, the group made whole and ready for the chorus.

“It’s just because the girls all have a lad on every ship”

Maria turned to throw a sultry look towards her rival bard but instead of finding a dumbstruck Oliver, she found a smiling one. His gaze was gentle and loving as if he was seeing utterly beautiful. A small smile was tugging at his cheeks. Maria could feel her heart thunder in her ears as, without warning, Oliver gave a thumbs up and mouthed an appreciative “Thanks” before ducking into the growing crowd.

“And it’s twiddley idle idle idle, twiddley idle aye.”

What was once a spattering of folks formed into a massive gathering. Most of the party goers and guards had come over to catch the free show the girls inadvertently given and thus all focus shifted onto them. What was an attempt to show up Oliver ended up being a very unnecessary showcase.

“It’s often times a man will leave you broken with dismay”

Boy was Maria feeling that dismay right now.

-----

Oliver’s plan worked: Stairy hadn’t been to resist the siren call of a beautiful woman and her singing. Luckily the harpies hadn’t ruined it with their imperfect pitches. Stairy hadn’t taken more than a few steps when Sel slipped in behind and began working at the door. It took a moment but one blink later and the automaton vanished out of sight.

Oliver let out a sigh when a hand gripped his shoulder tightly.

“Hello sir.” A guff, low voice in a less than friendly voice “Might I have a word? You’ve been acting rather strange all party long.”

Well fuck.

#Welcome to the Underground #My Story #Original Work #original story

[tfw-no-tennis]

h.x.h.

back after a long hiatus of being too lazy to tag/edit this post...hxh eps 33-34

2 months have already passed! ok then!

gon is such a good boy

i just gotta say....i love zushi. hes so cute. also im pretty confident hes not gonna turn out to be secretly evil or anything. Hes Baby 

ah, so many nen....words. seriously are we gonna b quizzed on this or st

oh god these rancid bitches again 

‘this is why nobody likes you’ vhbakjdshfbajksf we can always rely on killua to roast fools 

POOR ZUSHI LMAO dont worry its not your fault that gon and killua are Anime Protags who are speedrunning a training arc rn

OH FUCK NO LEAVE ZUSHI ALONE YOU CRUST MOTHERFUCKERS

oh thank god killua is here to fuck them up

wow im shocked killua is like, bargaining w/them, rather than just kicking their asses....i guess these guys probably know more nen stuff that killua but STILL, i feel like the crazy assassin shit killua can do would more than cover him 

N O LEAVE GON OLONE

the guy w/the weird eyes looks like hes wearing bootleg kurta robes and its throwing me off

aww so killua is trying his v best not to murder people...i support you my boy. even tho seeing killua obliterate dumb adults is like, the best part of the show

killua out here wearing a gay ass hat

OH BOY. ZOLDYCK THEME AND SCARY EYES....killuas fuckin PISSED 

killua is such a smart boi 

ah, nen stuff

gon angy 

hmmm is killua gonna do something?

OH HE SURE IS. SOMETHING WITH A KNIFE

HELL YEAH FUCK HIS SHIT UP KILLUAAAAA

oh he didnt actually stab him. how did that work. whatever still baller

i love angry scary assassin killua. epic 12 yr old murder moments 

LOVE the anticlimax there

rancid guy #1: that gay kid was scary im gonna leave forever and you should too byeee

these guys are morons lmao they rlly just heard all that and were like weellllll whatever lets fuck it up anyways 

YESSS KILLUA IS HERE TO FUCK THEM UP

maybe THIS time theyll listen to killua

im glad we’re not seeing a whole lot of their actual training, cause i feel like we’re still seeing plenty, and we’ve had a lot of nen info thrown at us lmao 

THE FISHING ROD RETURNS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! im so happy abt that omgggg i fuckgin love it. i wish that was gon’s Signature Weapon but from what i can tell he doesnt use it much later on :( 

im sorry but all this talk of ‘the tops’ is still so funny help

i wish they put this tops guy’s VA on one of those spinny carousel things at a playground to record his lines, for maximum realism

NO WAY GON MISSED..my boy does NOT miss w/his fishing rod no sir

OH SHIT THERE HE GOOOOOES HELL YEAH 

oh my god i love the absolute disregard for like, physics and shit LMAOOOO 

gon has The Strongest Fishing Rod And Lure Of All Time

YEAHHHH FUCK HIM UP GONNNNN

oh shit blood

damnnnn gon is PISSED. in true shounen anime protag form - do NOT mess w/his friends

ok time for killua to fuck it up

HOW did this guy not Leave after experiencing a slight dose of The Killua previously. fool

love killuas epic flips

KILLUA LOOKS SO BORED BY ALL THIS HBJSDKFNSKF MY BOY

why is killua saying ‘sorry, but im not a normal person’ so funny to me vhbhvjkdfbjaskfd

hes talking about being gay but everybody thinks its cause of the whole assassin thing

killua: lame ass. ive been abused by my family to the point where this shit is laughable. lol byeeeeee

KILLUA IS SUCH A LITTLE BASTARD HBVHDSJKHFSD I LOVE HIM

killua pullin out the baaaaaka 

gon and killua. dating

OH GOD. HISOKA

wheelchair guy Rlly came back to let gon kick his ass too? damn

GON STRONK BOY

gon: i will yeet the FUCKING FLOOR at you

oh god. hisoka leave. just go get arrested for being nasty or st

IS GON GONNA ELECTROCUTE THIS GUY JUST LIKE KILLUA DID LMAO

‘just kidding’ GON DO YOU KNOW, I LOVE YOU, MY SON MY BOY,

he blepped ;_; 

boyfwends...

HISOKA FUCK OFF CHALLENGE 

PLEASE just kill him gon. just do it. end him 

eugh i feel like hisoka fixated on gon rather than killua partially bc he could tell that gon is too nice or w/e to just murder hisoka, unlike killua who probably would

ok looks like next ep starts the gon hisoka fight so ill stop this recap here. seems like the minibosses are out of the way, now gon has to fight the main boss...ive been looking forward to this fight for a loooong time now

til next time!

#this is so late lol #lj watches hxh

[whatadaze]

I’m sending this to a bunch of people because I want to hear all your thoughts! Given that NL is showing some signs of possible changes in season 3, what is your dream NL season 3, including any changes from the og story that you really want to see

yo, hey, sup 

i’m just going to indulge myself for a bit and talk about what an engel season would look like: 

i think engel is the least familiar when it comes to the topic of sexuality + sex in general and this season could be her chance to explore that side of her life

i’ve seen this idea thrown around on tumblr involving engel falling in love with a muslim girl + i’m like sorta kinda 100% on board with that? 

especially bc we don’t know what a s4 would look like since we don’t have imaan, it’d be super interesting to have another muslim representation through a teenage girl 

we as viewers can learn more about the religion + culture through engel’s own experience 

it’d be so interesting to watch her learn + grow as a character and knowing engel, she would be SO WILLING to expand her knowledge on the topic 

having engel as a main would also mean that we’d see more of the girl squad! they are my life + bring me so much joy, seeing them for only brief amounts of time would kill me

engel is such a complex character and she is so much smarter than people give her credit for so it’d be really cool to see her POV when she is interacting with the girl squad

with engel, the show could tackle so many different topics: sexuality, friendship, first relationships, religion, eating disorders, and if they follow vilde’s storyline, we could also tackle the subject of having a parent w/ a mental illness 

i would trust skamnl 100% when it comes to tackling these subjects

and seriously, why NOT see more of this angel!? 

most likely though, we’ll have a lucas vdh season. they’re already beginning to set it up with the whole grindr thing + liv and isa seeing him getting on the back of a dude’s moped. with that in mind, this is what i imagine: 

i think there’s a general consensus amongst fans that we’d love a POC dutch!even

skamnl has been delivering when it comes to having a diverse cast, so i trust them with this!!! 

most of what i’d want to see in season 3 is from things i’ve read here such as moving away from having an artist even + having a theater even

i think that’d be super interesting, especially bc we’ve seen some of the theater kids at the school already

it’d be cool to see lucas hang out with a completely different social crowd

also i’m going to go ahead and assume that towards the end of season 2, jayden will move out and lucas will move in

lucas + ralph already have a sort of friendship developing rn so their relationship will be different from the isak/eskild remakes we’ve seen so far 

i’d love for lucas to be more open about his sexuality + deal w/ the confusion he feels in the beginning w/ ralph as his mentor/guide of some sort ? (aka guru) 

for some reason, i can see lucas coming to terms with his sexuality a lot faster than the other remakes + og 

he doesn’t give off the same vibes as isak + matteo (sorry i haven’t watched skamit + skamfr so i can’t compare lol) and just seems like the type to accept himself a lot quicker? 

which then gives more time for the show to tackle other subjects seen in s3 such as mental health + if there is a POC even, they could possibly tackle subjects of racism, especially bc he would be a POC teen that is also a part of the lgbt+ community 

and like i said before, i’d trust skamnl with my life when it comes to tackling these subjects

i know that whatever we get during season 3, i will not be disappointed bc skamnl has yet to disappoint me. they always exceed my expectations and always FUCKING DELIVER. so i trust them with whatever they decide to do :-) (butlikeplsgiveengelachance) 

BUT THIS WHOLE THING WILL BE POINTLESS IF WE DON’T GET THIS SHOW RENEWED SO EVERYONE WATCH SKAMNL ON YOUTUBE RN BC IT ISN’T GEOBLOCKED + IT IS A FUCKING CINEMATIC MASTERPIECE OKAY!? 

byeeeeee

#skamnl #skam nl #sorry this is long #lol #luv u

[misterewrites]

Intro to.....????

Hello everyone! Been awhile. It's been busy and really hot for me so it's hard for me to sit down to write sometimes.

But it's here!

E here with the next chapter and the final intro character chapter! The intro chapters were supposed to introduce everyone to the main and important characters of the story, who will be driving the main plots and stories though sometimes i might use new characters or different background characters. So beyond this chapter will be more worldbuilding, story arcs and oneshots. just stories about this world and its characters. I might even use some of my friends ocs i accidentally convinced them to make for my world. It was so much fun!

Alright that's it for me! Stay safe, wash your hands, wear your masks, take care of your loved ones, get vaccinated if you can, push to release the vaccine worldwide and have a great week! Enjoy! feel free to leave likes, feedback *I love feedback and comments even if it's just a line you liked or a scene you found awesome or funny* reblogs and tell your friends! Promoting myself still feels weird haha. E is out! Byeeeeee

If you want an easier time to read the story and since I’ve been shadow banned from tumblr for like ever now, here’s the newest chapter on ao3 right over here! 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/82583164

If you are interested in my work and want to read from the beginning check it right here  https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/75486005

Interested in my full catalog? https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrE42/works

Summary: Jackdaw is a powerful crime lord in the magical side of Newton Haven. He is feared more than respected and he doesn't care who he has to crush to accomplish his goals. So when his lucrative club is burned to the ground with his guards piled neatly outside, battered broken but alive, he takes it personally. Of course who is crazy enough to burn down a club of a notoriously dangerous crimeboss? A mercenary paid to do so. 

Obviously.

----------

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

The sound of footsteps pacing back and forth thundered throughout the silent room.

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

No one said anything. No one could say anything given the disastrous failure of the night. It hadn’t mattered if they were physically present at the site of offense or that they were scattered across town in one of many locations vital to the boss’s business: Someone hit them and the boss was itching to hit back.

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

“Alright” A voice spoke up, smooth yet cold.

The room was already quiet but now the air filled with a frighten tension.

The boss whirled around from the massive window he’d been staring out of, eyes narrowing on the defeated group of guards who averted their gaze from his.

The few still conscious were in varying states of dishevel and injured: Broke bones, nasty bruises, clothing ruffled and torn in places. Not a single one had gone unscratched from the assault on the club earlier that night.

Jackdaw was not pleased.

No one in the room knew much about their boss despite devoting their lives to his cause: He was in his mid 30’s, his nose uneven after being broken in a fight though no one could agree what he had been fighting. Long wavy raven black hair ran down his shoulders while his dark brown eyes glanced about, icy and piercing.

“I’m a little confused.” Jackdaw said with a menacing drawl as he approached the closest guard “Mind answering a few for me?”

The guard nodded shakily.

Jackdaw smiled, patting the guard’s cheek in a mocking manner “Good, good. Now let me paint the picture: My club is currently a smoky, charred corpse of its former self. Yes?”

The guard gave another timid nod.

Jackdaw puckered his lips thoughtfully “Okay, okay. How many guards on duty?”

“8.” The guard murmured fearfully.

“Okay. How many standing?”

The guard shot a nervous glance to the other three. They found the floor more interesting.

“F-four.”

Crack!

The guard’s limp body tumbled backwards and laid still on the ground.

Jackdaw flexed his fingers “Wrong! I count three. You!”

The next in line flinched but stared their boss in the face “Sir?”

“Since that one.” Jackdaw lazily motioned to the unconscious man “is sleeping on the job, you tell me what happened.”

“O-okay.” The next in line mumbled “Well the night started same as any other….”

----------

The Gray Waves nightclub brought in a decent crowd for a weekday: Dozen or so people lost in the dim shadows with only a disorienting array of ever changing lights for company. Drinks served and the booming, thundering sounds of music set the chaotic mood clubs thrived on.

Nice peaceful night.

Floyd, the current storyteller, had been watching from the second floor landing when he noticed the gathering of guards below. The eight guards on duty were often out and about performing their different duties ranging from gate keeping the door to making sure nothing disturbed the vibe of the club. The fact five of his coworkers were huddled together should’ve been the first red flag.

The group talked in hushed tones despite the deafening bass and techno music the DJ’s speakers blared out. Once or twice, someone glanced to the far end of the club. Floyd looked and found the source of meeting.

Someone in their forties was loudly drinking at the counter tucked in the shadowy part of the club: It was impossible to tell who they were from this distance but they clearly were enjoying themselves: Head tiled back with messy, wavy salt and pepper hair. They gestured to the bartender (A wonderful woman named Carolyn who unfortunately had school debt to pay off and mob work was the best paying.) excitedly as their drink spilled onto the floor. They wore a large, tattered dark green trench coat that had seen better decades with faded worn out blue jeans. Their black boots were caked with grime and dirt that dirtied the floor. The only thing remotely new was their black t-shirt with some words in white font.

Floyd understood what the problem was: Clubs thrived on their popularity and image. People wanted to feel like they were special, all access stars to the hottest place in the city. With such a reputation came a mighty need to uphold said rep. No offense to whoever was having fun over there but with that look, it might send the wrong message and no amount of cash would ever change that.

Evidently a plan was reached as the meeting broke up. Two guards remained behind, returning to watching the room as the pit boss made his way over to the hapless customer, flanked with back up.

It was oddly satisfying watching the pit boss work: He gracefully slid in and out of crowds, slipping through the lost dancers like a snake treading through water. He motioned to the others to wait then made his way to the person.

The person was singing something at the top of his lungs. Drink, clink or something like that. Maybe it was the song playing at the time but Floyd hadn’t been paying attention to that at the time.

Trench Coat slipped Carolyn something and she laid a bottle of alcohol on the counter beside them: Vermouth? Absente? Vodka? One of those probably.

She nodded gratefully and disappeared into the back.

Floyd frowned at the red flag number two he had just seen: Carolyn was a pretty woman and was told more or less to just do as the customer asked be it answering questions or a reasonable request that wasn’t too out of the ordinary. Of course this was with the strict rule of not to leave the counter unattended.

At the time Floyd thought it was weird, not yet realizing what was about to unfold.

The person poured the bottle directly into their mouth, shaking their body to the catchy beat poorly. Whoever they were could not dance to save their life.

The pit boss, Malcolm, closed the distance between himself and his prey. He snuck closer and closer, the unaware customer too lost in their antics to noticed. Malcolm reached out for their shoulder and…

The thud was loud enough to cut through the noisy club and got the attention of everyone present.

Before Malcolm could even tighten his grip, the person struck: They whirled around, grabbing Malcolm’s head and smashing it into the counter. As Malcolm sunk to the floor, limp and unmoving, the person turned to shoot a smug grin towards the guards.

“I’m on the floor, floor! I love to dance!” They sang, one hand outstretched to the sky, the other gripping the bottle upside and draining its contents onto the counter.

The back up drew their weapons, standard issue nightsticks, and made their way forward.

“So give me more, more, till I can’t stand.”

They emptied the bottle, their green eyes never leaving the approaching guards.

“Get on the floor, floor, like it’s your last chance.”

They chucked the empty bottle into the wall of drinks, broken glass and different alcoholic drinks spilling onto the floor and mixing together.

“If you want more, more, then here I am!”

They pulled a match from within their coat pocket and lit it with the backside of their boot. Without looking, they threw the match over their shoulder and smiled as a raging flame broke out behind them.

The club goers were slow to realize what was going on but the remaining guards, Floyd included, mobilized to action.

Before anyone could react, however, an unexpected shrill shrieked throughout the building: The fire alarm designed to be the most annoying and loudest thing you’ve ever heard.

Even though it had been a slow night and only a dozen or so people were here, the customers panicked with a surge of three times that number.

Screams and yells filled the air as bodies shuffled about in a mad dash. The guards were thrown about, tossed this way and that while the lights, alarm and music worked together to confuse everyone.

Luckily the club was deserted within moments, leaving only security and the troublemaker.

The person hadn’t moved an inch despite the increasingly raging blaze behind them.

The back up pair approached carefully, unsure what this person was capable of.

All of them really had no idea.

The person raised their hand to the sky, belting with full force “LET’S DO THIS ONE MORE TIME!”

Without warning, silence and darkness filled the club: The fire alarm and music died suddenly. The lights followed a moment later but the raging flames, growing hungrily, remained. Floyd’s eyes watered with a sharp pain, the stuffy air and sudden shift in lighting too much for him

Floyd paused his story, uneasy growing at the sight of Jackdaw’s tightened jaw. The poor lad could actually see the veins pulsing with barely contained rage on his boss’s forehead.

“And why did the power go out?” Jackdaw asked through clenched teeth “No one was watching the power? Or the fusebox? Not a single person was guarding what I pay them to guard?”

Floyd remained silent, unsure how to answer that. He was just one of the lower rank and file guards: He got told what to do and he did it.

“Well? I’m waiting Floyd my boy! Why did the power go out?”

Floyd felt the beads of sweat run down his neck.

“Umm sir?”

Floyd nearly collapsed as one of Jackdaw’s techies nervously stepped forward, a loaded video on a tablet in hand.

Jackdaw blew a loose strain of hair out of his face and took a moment to slick back his hair. The vain gesture was enough to allow him to regain some level of composure as he snatched the tablet from the techie. With a grunt, he pressed play.

The video was short: It was a camera feed set up to watch over the fusebox to prevent tampering. Two guards were gesturing to the box, idly chatting with somebody in a red jumpsuit with a clipboard in one hand and a toolbox in the other. The back of uniform had the words “Newton Haven City Maintenance” scrawled across it in some rather hard to read font. The guards laughed out loud, jokingly patting the stranger’s shoulder before leaving frame. The city worker opened the fusebox and began tinkering without anyone stopping him.

The tablet crunched nosily as Jackdaw’s grip sent a ripple of cracks across the screen.

He turned to the techie.

“It was a routine check up.” the techie sputtered out “Our guards called it in this afternoon. Said there was an official letter with stamps and signatures and everything!”

“Did you check with me?” Jackdaw snarled “Because I pay the city specifically so they don’t send anyone to the club. Because of my illegal business practices that I perform there.”

Floyd could see the techie’s shoulder slump, whispering quietly “You were in a meeting….”

Jackdaw growled furiously but returned his attention to the nearly broken tablet.

It hadn’t taken more than a few minutes for the mysterious city maintenance worker to finish. They slammed the fusebox closed, doing a little jig before checking the contents of their toolbox and went on their merry little way.

Jackdaw’s blood froze as the figure gave a cheeky wink to the camera, knowing exactly where it was despite the magical wards in place to keep it invisible.

“Savant.”

An eerie emptiness replaced the hostility in the room.

The fight disappeared out of Jackdaw, leaving only an intense sense of dread and paranoia.

All this was lost on Floyd, who saw the troublemaker’s face and couldn’t help but blurt out “That’s them! The one who beat up Malcolm and burned the club down!”

Jackdaw chuckled darkly “Oh. Oh this makes sense. No one wonder you all get your ass kicked six ways to Sunday. Someone sic’d Savant on me. Ya’ll never had a chance against them.”

Floyd shuddered, the memory of how brutal and efficient Savant had been against them: Grown men dragged kicking and screaming into the shadows, the crunchy noises of bones broken, bodies falling down and yells stopped mid-shout. He still remembered Savant standing over him, nightstick in hand, whistling cheerfully as they brought down the weapon and sent him into unconsciousness.

“Alright!” Jackdaw clapped his hands “Lock it down!”

Everyone glanced towards one another, unsure what exactly the boss meant.

“LOCK IT DOWN!” the snarl that escaped Jackdaw’s lips sent goosebumps down everybody’s spine “NOW! I WANT THIS PLACE SEALED UP NICE AND TIGHT!”

“But we’re 14 stories up...”

Techie flinched as Jackdaw whirled around, eyes blazing with unrestrained rage and impatience “You deaf? I said lock down the building or so help me I’m going to use you as a human shield when they start coming for me.”

Techie opened his mouth when an unexpected sound filled the silence: A muffled, cheeky yet tacky melody of a cellphone ringing.

Glances and gazes looked about trying to find the source of the disturbance. Floyd was baffled when he realized it was coming from inside his coat pocket. Nervously, he reached within and slowly pulled out a palm sized flip phone, the kind hadn’t been used in decades.

Jackdaw’s eyes widened with fear and alarm as he snatched the phone from the poor guard with inhuman speed.

“It’s them!” Jackdaw’s voice was manic “IT’S THEM!”

The mobster was torn about what to do next: Answering meant playing right into Savant’s hands and whatever the mercenary had plan. On the other hand, not answering would no doubt annoy them into far worse retaliation.

With a hard shallow, Jackdaw answered with an uncharacteristically shy “Hello?”

He could feel his heart screech to a stop when a bored, almost nonchalant voice replied “S’up.”

Jackdaw threw as much charm and cheer into his voice “Savant, buddy! Pal!”

“Don’t.” the voice sighed tiredly “It’s pathetic when the begging start. You’re a big, bad mob boss. Act like it you dumbass.”

“Fine” Jackdaw let go of any sense of civility “Good old threats: if you so much as show your face around…”

“Ugh too much in the wrong direction” Savant replied, seemingly uninterested in what the mob boss had to said “You people are all the same: False bravado and overcompensating. It’s embarrassing. Just say you’re scared of me and we can move on.”

Despite the severity of the situation, Jackdaw couldn’t help but feel irritated “Oh is that what you want? Get your jollys when powerful people admit they’re afraid of you? You think you can….you can…”

Jackdaw paused, unsure if his ears were working correctly.

“Are you eating?”

“Hmm??” the sound of smacking lips and chewing was the mercenary’s response for a few moments “Oh yeah. Get hungry when working. Normally I’d be all for the theatrics but it’s been a long night what with fucking with your fusebox, burning down your club, planting the phone on a guard. It’s like 3 in the morning dude.”

Jackdaw bit his lip angrily, a single drop of blood running down his chin “It is 3 in the morning and I’m very tired so I’d very much like to conclude our business. How much?”

“To hire me?” more lip smacking “An amount. You could probably afford it.”

Jackdaw let his shoulder’s sag with relief “So it’s agreed? I’ll hire you and we can all be on our merry way.”

“Sure!” Savant said cheerfully.

Bullet dodged.

“You can hire me after I finish this job. By the way did you like the gift I sent you?”

Gift?

Jackdaw was a powerful and feared member of the illicit side of the magical world. He climbed to his position through sheer force of will and power. He left countless of his enemies broken and defeated in his wake.

To see him reduced to a flailing, paranoid mess would be a story no one would believe.

“GIFT?!” Jackdaw screamed, unable to keep the high-pitch whine out of his voice “WHAT GIFT?! SOMEONE FUCKING ANSWER ME!”

The techie was the first to shake off their stupor “Well there was a box that came in today. It was empty and we detected no magic so…”

“Box?!” Jackdaw spat as he wildly searched the room before landing on the seemingly innocent box just sitting on his desk “You brought it the fuck here?”

Everyone backed away.

“I…”

“Wait” Jackdaw cut off the techie’s answer “Maybe they were hoping you’d take it somewhere or get rid of it. No, no this is good. We’re outwitting the fucker.”

“Sir, the box was empty. And you told use you personally wanted to inspect any and all….”

“You hear that asswipe!” Jackdaw grinned ear to ear “My people are the best! We’re ahead of you. Your game is over, you hear me?”

“My man.” Savant’s voice was infuriatingly calm “It’s just a regular old box for a boring ass mobster.”

“Stop lying!” Jackdaw roared angrily, instinctively bringing down his fist on the closet object in the room.

Which of course was the box.

The parcel collapsed under the mobster’s supernatural strength with little effort. As the box was smashed, the two inert glyph drawn in an invisible ink on both ends collided and activated each other.

The room erupted in an array of dazzling, blinding lights.

The light show hadn’t lasted long but no one knew that as they stumbled around, disoriented and lost, the display still burned in their retinas.

Jackdaw howled violently, swiping at the air blindly with long talon-like nails. Any calls for explanations or help were lost under the raging mobster unleashed.

Jackdaw didn’t hear the window break, the sound of glass shattering as it rained upon the floor. He didn’t see the muzzle flash that flared across the street, Savant’s sniping perch. He knew nothing but the sudden searing pain that filled his shoulder without warning.

Everything drained out of him, he slumped to the floor like a doll. He weakly clutched at his shoulder, steam wafting off the wound as the sliver bullet dug itself deep in its new home.

It didn’t matter what kind of werebeast you were: Wolf, bear, rat or even a raven like Jackdaw. All them were deathly weakened by sliver. The mere smell could cause nausea, touch burned worse than third degree burns and any injuries could take weeks, maybe even months to heal.

Jackdaw wheezed, the room spinning in a messy blur.

“Right.” the phone landed by his ear but Savant’s voice sounded far off like it was echoing down a long tunnel “Sorry I got the paper right here.”

Muted sounds of pockets being turned inside out: Scraping of metal on brick, shuffling papers, even rustling fast food wrappers.

“Got it!” Savant beamed “Quinn says stay the fuck off his turf. Mind your lane or the next time he sends me I won’t be aiming for your shoulder.”

“How did you know I was...I was… no one knew...?” Jackdaw murmured incoherently.

“Your heart.” Savant explained “It’ll be your heart. Okay well I gotta go so take these next few months to reflect on any sort of ill advised turf wars, domestic disputes and fighting with your rivals. If you’re still interested in hiring me for revenge or whatever, you call me at my business payphone. Bye little birdy!”

----------

Savant dropped the phone to the floor, crushing it under their boot while rubbing the tension out of their neck. Around them was the standard stakeout gear: high powered and totally illegal sniper rifle, a neatly piled trash heap and a sniping pillow (Sniping’s hard on the stomach and knees.).

They packed away the gun, kicked the trash heap to make it look more like natural rooftop garbage and went downstairs.

Savant yawned tiredly, not at all concerned with the guards that were pouring out of Jackdaw’s hidey hole. They glanced around, trying to get their bearings when they noticed a hot dog vendor across the street.

“I really shouldn’t” they pursed their lips “Especially after paying for someone to set up the pyrotechnics spells. But I am hungry. Stomach wins!”

Savant made their way over, patting their stomach lovingly “One hotdog please. Everything on it.”

“You got it!” The vendor nodded before eyeing the commotion “What’s with that?”

“I don’t talk business.”

“O-kay. Umm here’s your hotdog. That’ll be two bucks.

Savant reached into their pocket and shoved a hundred dollars into the waiting vendor’s hand. Without a second look, Savant gratefully took the hotdog and walked away.

“Hey buddy! BUDDY! You gave me way too much!”

“You too!” Savant replied, took caught up in the rapture that was their meal.

This was a really fucking good hotdog.

#my work #Original Work #original story #my stuff