#she fucking turned to foam and faded away in front of him so to see her back would fuck him up so much

[anarkhebringer]

WHY IS PAKA'A'S TUTU HERE SHE'S BEEN DEAD FOR 160 YEARS

#if Paka'a saw this in my storyline he'd fucking disintegrate and be sobbing for like 3 days #she told him herself it was her time to go because she felt he was ready and taught all he needed to learn #she fucking turned to foam and faded away in front of him so to see her back would fuck him up so much #he'd feel so unworthy and scared that he fucked up honoring his legacy somehow

[zeroweeenies]

friends with benefits, megumi x reader? (make it long please, i just finished giving my final exams)

I bet you did amazing <3

“Not So Bad After All”

Desc: turns out megumi isn’t as bad as he seems.

Character(s): Megumi x fem!reader

Word Count: 5.1K

WARNINGS: belly bulge, praise, blood (non sexual), enemies to friends with benefits, aged up megumi, 18+ minors dni

You loved Fridays. You loved Saturdays even more. You loved that you could relax unwind on your couch and watch your favorite shows with a beer, especially after a long week of classes.

So when your weekly alleviation was interrupted Friday morning with your mom asking you to help Fushiguro and his dad to help you move into their new house next to you, you were pissed.

Now here you were, carrying heavy ass boxes like a factory worker, and for the likes of Fushiguro at that. You’ve known him ever since you both were small kids since his dad Toji and your mom were best friends in high school.

Unlike your parents, you and Fushiguro didn’t have the greatest friendship, hell you two didn’t have a friendship at all.

Most of your encounters only ever occurred because of the connection between your parents, and because you both attended the same University.

He was just so damn annoying, always shooting you dirty looks or teasing you about how you looked. You wondered how he could make fun of your appearance when he had that weird ass hair.

You weren’t just gonna let them get the last laugh, oh no. There was no possibility that he was going to fuck with you and you let it slide.

So whenever you around Fushiguro, you made it your life’s mission to fuck up his whole day. Whether it be with a snarky comment or scribbling all over his homework, you had to find some way to piss him off.

You huff as you set the heavy box down, moping to your mom. “why do I have to be here?”

She hoists the box up from the moving truck as if it were a feather. “Because we,” she grunts, “are good people who help our friends out.”

“Fushiguro is not my friend.” you scoff at her words. “I think you’re getting delusional, ma.”

She stops as she sets the box down at the doorstep, holding her finger up in your direction.

“Watch your mouth.” she says in a warning tone.

“Don’t think just because you’re in college that you’re too old for a beating, little girl.”

“And go get the boys, they should be out here helping, too.” she sends you off, returning to the truck to retrieve more boxes.

You kiss your teeth, waving her off. “Whatever.”

“What was that?” she chirps from inside the vehicle, daring you to repeat your words.

“I said I love you mom!” you rush into the house, managing to avoid her.

You walk into the house in search of Fushiguro and his dad when you spot him on the couch watching tv. You almost scoff at the sight of the tall boy just sitting there while you’re outside working your ass off.

Walking up to him, you smack the side of his head, causing him to hold that very spot. “ouch! what the fuck!?”

“This isn’t the fucking moving company, you need to be outside helping.” you point towards the exterior of the house with your thumb, one arm across your chest as it propped up your elbow.

“Yeah yeah, whatever” he rubs the side of his head as he stands up.

“Where’s your hot dad at shitty hair?” you teased, knowing he would get mad. Fushiguro hated two things: people talking about his dad, and people talking about his hair. To your surprise, he didn’t snap at you. Instead, he snapped back at you in the same tone.

“In the kitchen arranging the appliances, how about your hot mom moon face? i think i wanna pay her a little visit,” he shot back, leering down at you.

This is exactly what you were talking about. Fushiguro always had some smart comment to throw at you. Whatever you threw at him he ended up throwing it back ten times harder, and you couldn’t stand it. You couldn’t stand him.

Especially the moon face remark, and to think you had stopped being insecure about that.

You roll your eyes at him, storming off to the kitchen to find his dad. You walk in to see him putting away appliances in the cabinets, the sweat from his toned body making his shirt cling to his body. He looked good.

You knocked at the wall announcing your presence, practically foaming at the mouth as Toji spun around to face you from where he was standing. He chuckled when he noticed the way you were looking at him, wiping the pooling sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

Fushiguro’s dad had always been good looking, you knew it ever since you were younger. It’s not like you were in love with the guy or anything, it was just an innocent little school girl crush that you developed. Besides, he was way out of your age range to begin with.

“What’s up kiddo?” he scruffs up your hair. Despite being so tough on his son, the man always had a soft spot for you. It was almost like you were a second child to him.

“I’m not a kid anymore,” you pout “and mom needs you outside to help with the boxes” you say with ire in your voice.

You were a little annoyed that the man still saw you as a child. You were in college and had your own apartment, you paid your own bills, you even had a pet that you cared for.

So it was a bit irritating that his disposition about you remained the same despite the fact being that you were morphing into an adult.

“yeah right, you and megumi will always be kids to me. even when you get old and have to shit in diapers” he wraps his arm around your neck, walking you to the front of the house.

“gross.” he laughs, removing his arm from you as he walks around the truck where your mom is.

“Me and Megumi finished this load. Ready for the next trip?” she nodded towards the truck, hopping in the passenger’s side when Toji gave her confirmation.

“Yup,” the tall man walked around to the driver’s side, swinging the heavy door open and sliding in place.

Your eyes shot open in bewilderment, rushing to the side where your mom was. “Next trip? There’s more stuff!?”

“Sweetheart don’t be like that, there’s only a few more things we have to get from the old apartment. we’ll be done after this, I promise.” she said with assurement in her voice. “Now move, i don’t want you to get run over.”

You stepped back in disbelief, nearly tripping over your own two feet as you watched the truck fade away into the distance. You were already taking time out of your day to do something you didn’t want to do in the first place, now that time was getting extended.

The sun had begun to set over the horizon, painting the summer sky with a beautiful mixture of orange and pink. You stood in the driveway, dumbfounded for a few moments before you could even formulate a sentence.

“This is some bullshit.” you huffed out, earning a wry laugh from Fushiguro who stood a few feet away from you.

“Weekend isn’t going as planned, is it?” he chirped from behind you, causing you to turn around and stomp on his foot as you walked past him to get to the house.

He hopped on one foot, holding the other one that you had stepped on.

“Shut the hell up. And help me put the rest of these boxes in the house shitface.”

“Says the one that has a face with more craters than the moon,” he mumbles out, barely audible enough for you to hear.

When Fushiguro brings the last of the boxes in the house, you’re settled on the couch watching tv. He purposefully plops down on the couch at the exact spot where your feet are resting, causing you to land repeated butterfly kicks to the side of his thigh.

You feel Fushiguro grab you by the ankle, yanking you forward so that your legs were in an awkward position. He leaned over you, his face getting dangerously close to yours and his body sitting between your legs.

Face growing hot, you tried to pull your ankle from his tight hold but to no avail. Fushiguro only tightened his grip on you causing you to wince. You attempt to kick him off you with your free foot but he only catches that one too, now holding your legs open with both hands.

If you weren’t flustered before, you definitely were now. The dark scowl on Fushiguro’s face only excites you even more. You weren’t supposed to be feeling this way, you’re supposed to hate him. But here you are, hot and bothered with the boy you hate spreading your legs wide open.

“Do that again, and I’ll hurt you. Bad.” he whispers with warning in his voice, face nearly touching yours.

His voice promised danger but was alluring all the same. It made you tremble, underwear starting to grow wet.

“Fushi-wushi, how’d you know I like pain?” you challenged him, daring to inch your face closer to his.

“You know, you should take a girl out on a date before you try to get between her legs,” you snicker, pushing him off you before sauntering off into the kitchen, hips swaying in efforts to tease him.

Megumi sits on the couch, shocked and flustered at your boldness as he watches you disappear into the other room.

You retrieve the pitcher of orange juice that sits in the freezer, opening it and placing it on the counter as you go to get a glass from the cabinet that sits way too high for you to reach.

“Shit. How am I supposed to reach that?”

You tug on your bottom lip with your teeth, contemplating asking Fushiguro for help or try to get it yourself knowing it’s too far out of your grasp. You choose the latter.

There was no way you were about to ask that bozo for help. He’d probably tease you about your height, rubbing it in your face about how you couldn’t even reach to get a flimsy little glass.

You steady yourself on the balls of your feet, stretching as far as you can to reach the glass. Your feet begin to burn, your calves burning from the stretch as your fingertips brushed the glass.

You must’ve tapped the object a tad bit too hard because it came tumbling down, knocking the carton of orange juice down to splatter all over your clothes before hitting the floor, shattering in the process.

A shard of the broken glass cuts your foot, causing you to scream. A confused Fushiguro speeds into the kitchen, eyes widening at your state before rushing off. You raise your injured foot off the ground, hobbling to the opposite side of the counter so you didn’t hurt yourself again.

The pain in your foot only grew, drops of blood hitting the floor as you winced.

Fushiguro reenters the room, a white box in his hand with a red and white sign on it.

“Sit on the counter,” he instructs you, and you do as he says, legs swinging from the place you were sitting. He drops to his knees and pries the kit open, revealing medical tools and supplies used to clean up wounds. He slips on a pair of gloves then pulls out a pair of tweezers, beginning to work on your foot.

Fushiguro angles your foot with his left hand, using his right to remove the glass with catlike precision. He’s so focused, the look of concern on his face baffling you. You cringe as you feel the glass exiting your foot, tears prodding your eyes from the agony.

“Why didn’t you call me?” he grits his teeth, never averting his eyes from the task at hand.

“Because I can-” you hiss, your foot recoiling from the stinging feeling of the alcohol that he applied to your foot.

“I can do it myself,” you sigh out, the sting beginning to dissipate.

“No you can’t, ___ . You could’ve really hurt yourself.” You noticed the resentment in his voice, he wouldn’t even look at you.

“Why do you care so much anyw-” you holler at him

“BECAUSE,” he yells at you, his eyes softening at the way you jumped back from him.

He sighs, continuing to nurse your foot by wrapping it in gauze. “I have my reasons” he gives you no further answer.

Any other time you would’ve yelled back at him, but the genuine concern in his voice only instructed you to be quiet.

He notices your ruined clothes from the orange juice that splattered over it. He also takes note of the way your shirt sticks to your breasts with your perked nippes showing through. He averts his eyes, quickly shooing you off.

“Look at you, you’re all sticky. I have clothes in my room you can go wear something of mine. I have to get this stuff cleaned up.” He turns away from you, securing the med kit before tending to the mess you made.

You could only nod, scooting off of the counter before leaving the kitchen on your injured foot to retreat to Fushiguro’s room.

There was this feeling in your chest that you just couldn’t shake off. Why did you feel bad? You couldn’t stand Fushiguro, so why did it bother you to see him upset?

You shut the door, peeling yourself out of your sticky clothes before searching for something to put on.

Megumi finishes cleaning up the glass and spilled juice when his phone lights up with a ‘ding’ noise. He picks up the device, noticing a text from his dad.

‘piece of shit truck broke down. we won’t be able to get home until the morning. there’s money for food in my room if you need it. -dad’

Megumi sucks his teeth at the message, heading upstairs to tell you the sudden news. He opens the door to his room, seeing your half naked body as you turn around, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

He caught a glimpse of the thong you were wearing, seeing how it nestled perfectly between your cheeks. Your ass looked good. He notices you’re not wearing a bra, his eyes trained on the way your pebbled nipples stick out.

You cover yourself with the shirt you found, snapping him out of his trance causing him to avert his eyes back to your flustered gaze.

“Can you get out!?” you shove him out and close the door behind him before he even gets the chance to apologize.

Megumi slaps his hands over his face, cursing to himself for not thinking to knock as he heads downstairs.

What was that? Was Fushiguro... checking you out? You caught him looking at your tits through your shirt earlier, and now this. You couldn’t front, Fushiguro was a good looking guy, but you didn’t like him like that. Did you?

When he was between your legs on the couch, your face was hot. And he made your underwear uncomfortable, but that didn’t mean you liked him. Did it?

You’re talking about a boy you grew up loathing, and you were pretty sure he couldn’t stand you either. Now you were questioning whether you had feelings for him. It made your head feel fuzzy.

Coyly walking into the living room, you sit on the couch opposite of Fushiguro. The awkward silence between you two only grew while the loud sounds from the tv served as white noise.

Fushiguro finally breaks the quietness between you two “The moving truck broke down, so you have to stay here for the night.”

Shit. And to think things weren’t awkward enough, now you have to spend the whole night alone with him.

“Oh.” you simply state, twiddling your thumbs as you look down.

A few moments pass before you glance at Fushiguro, finally deciding to speak. “Sorry I broke your glass…” you mutter out, making him laugh from beside you.

“Moon face is apologizing? Pigs must be flying,” he was holding his stomach from how hard he was laughing.

You were never really good at apologizing, always too prideful to own up to your faults. But when you did, you always meant it. So Fushiguro laughing at you only prompted you to fold your arms.

“Well now I take it back” you pout, turning your body away from him.

“Awww come on,” he scooches over to where you’re sitting, tilting your chin up to face him with his thumb and forefinger.

“If it makes you feel better, I’m sorry for yelling at you. I was being a dick.”

The awkward tension in the room was now replaced with sexual tension, your breath catches in your throat from how close he was. He could kiss you right now if he really wanted to.

You take this time to analyze his features. His thick lashes had grown out, curling up to his eyebrows beautifully. His jawline was sharp now, with his Adam's apple more prominent. And his lips were smooth and plush with a natural sheen to them, both a bubblegum pink color.

You had never seen him this way. Maybe you were just too busy hating him to even notice; but he was older, more mature now. He looked hot. You guess you weren’t the only one who had grown up.

“Fushiguro, why were you so worried about me earlier?” your breaths got heavier, heart pounding out of your chest as his face neared towards you.

The thumb on your chin ran along your mouth, Fushiguro’s eyes flickering to your lower lip.

“I can show you better than I can tell you. Will you let me?” he asks for your permission.

You weren’t stupid, you knew exactly where this was headed. And you didn’t mind. It had been months since you last got off, so you’d give in to your desires this time.

You close your eyes, letting Fushiguro close the distance between you two. His lips connect with yours in a heated but sensual kiss, tongue entering your mouth making you stifle a moan.

You let his hands wander your body. The meat of your thighs, the flesh of your ass, your soft tits. Megumi wanted to feel all of you. After so long, he was finally getting what he wanted. He was going to savor this moment.

He pulled his lips from yours, breath heavy against your swollen lips from the bruising kiss. His hands rested at the hem of your shirt, silently asking if he could take it off. You nod, raising your arms for him to remove the clothing.

You sit there in only your panties, Fushiguro’s eyes scanning your naked chest as he throws the shirt across the room.

“Your tits are so pretty,” latching onto your breast, he sucks your nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud. He tastes the spilled orange juice from earlier on your skin, it drives him absolutely mad.

You throw your head back as Fushiguro makes dark bruises all over your chest, you’d have to cover that up with makeup later on.

He trails his tongue all the way down your sternum and stomach, moving down until he’s face to face with your cunt. He presses kisses to the fabric right over where your clit is, licking stripes over it making you whine for him to do more.

Fushiguro gets your message and hooks his finger over your thong, pushing the material out of the way before he jabs his tongue into your hole, rubbing your clit at the same time

“You taste so fucking good,” he removes his tongue from inside of you, slurping and sucking on that sensitive spot that drives you crazy.

You can’t control your moans now. The way he’s eating you is driving you nuts, and you feel yourself getting closer when he nudges two fingers in your pussy, curling his fingers as he works them in and out of you.

“Fuck— yes yes yes, right there” you wail, feeling your release near.

Fushiguro groans at the way your fingers suck him in, his sweatpants grow uncomfortable from his rock hard dick drooling with precum.

“Right there? You gunna cum?” you nod your head furiously, eyes shutting tight with your mouth wide open.

Fushiguro takes advantage of your open mouth by pushing two of his fingers in, holding your tongue down as he muffles your cries.

Fuck. Fingers in your mouth. Fingers in your pussy. You could just die.

“Go ahead, cum. I got you.”

You let out a long moan, pleasure soaring through you as Fushiguro folds you in half on the couch with his fingers up to the knuckle inside of your pulsing cunt.

He works you through your orgasm, suckling on your clit as you begin to come down.

He palms his cock through his sweats to relieve himself from his painfully hard erection as he comes up to kiss you, swirling his tongue on yours allowing you to taste yourself. You moan from tasting your juices on his tongue, remembering your flavor along with Fushiguro’s.

“Good fucking girl” he detaches his lips from yours, breathless. You motion to pull his pants down but he catches your hand in his, causing you to frown at him.

“Wanna make you feel good too,” you pouted up at him, making Fushiguro let out a groan.

As much as he wanted your soft lips wrapped around his dick, he couldn’t allow it. He wanted tonight to be about you, he wanted solely to be the one to make you feel good.

Pressing a sweet kiss to your mouth, he gave you a knowing smile.

“I know, baby. Tonight’s about you though.” biting your lip, you give him a small nod as you watch him pull his shirt off along with his sweats.

He was sexy. His arms were decorated with muscles, his toned stomach and abs must’ve been crafted by the gods themselves. His prominent v-line extended down his pelvis making you salivate.

He pumped his thick cock in his hand one, two, three times before approaching you to your position on the couch, legs wide open with your panties pushed to the side. He barely gets the tip in before he pulls out again, letting out an audible groan.

“What’s wrong?” you sit up on your elbows, furrowing your eyebrows.

He runs his free hand down his face, looking down at you. “I don’t have a condom.”

You look down, licking your lips. You always practiced safe sex. You never once let a guy fuck you without a rubber. But the thought of Fushiguro going raw in you has you clenching around nothing.

“It’s okay, you can cum inside me. I’m on birth control.” you mumble, too embarrassed to even say it louder

His eyebrows raise in surprise. “You sure?” you nod, and that’s all he needs you to do before he slides into you in one fell swoop.

You throw your head back from the feeling of him stuffing you. His cock is so thick, stretching you out so perfectly you can’t help but scream.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he breathes out, shoving his cock in and out of your sopping cunt.

Your hole is so sloppy, you can feel yourself dripping onto the cushions right below where Fushiguro is fucking you senseless.

“Look at you, making a fucking mess” he gapes at where the two of you connect, pounding your pussy as your slick covers his abdomen. “I would’ve fucked you a long time ago if I knew you get this wet for me”

His words only make you clench around his fat cock, eliciting a deep groan from him. You try to hold back your moans, only making Fushiguro pin your arms above your head.

“Ah ah, let me hear those pretty moans. I wanna hear how good I make you feel.” he commands you. The loud slaps filling the room and the lewdness of your tits uncontrollably bouncing in front of him only embarrass you further, pushing you closer to orgasm.

Fushiguro pulls out of you, flipping you onto your hands and knees before he pushes back into your soaked pussy, finally drawing out a moan from you.

“That’s a good girl,” he ruthlessly pounds you, cooing in your ear about how well you’re taking his dick. He was so deep, his cock fucking into your cervix. You could feel him in your stomach.

He presses his hand to your stomach, and you felt his dick pushing in and out of that very spot.

“You feel me in your tummy? I’m right here, baby”

he breathes in your ear, the feeling is too much, you know you’re about to cum at any given moment.

“‘S too big-- too much,” your eyes retreat to the back of your head, nails clawing at the arm of the couch.

“Yeah? You can take it. You’re a good girl, I know you can.”

And you do. You take all of his fat cock in your little pussy because he tells you to. Because you wanna be a good girl.

He didn’t know how long he could keep this up, he was about to blow his load inside you but not before you tell him what he wants to hear.

“Fushig-”

“Megumi,” he corrects you

“Megumi, please let me cum—!” you beg, tears streaming down your face.

He ponders on it for a while, hips never faltering against your ass.

“You gonna stop pretending you hate me?”

“Yes—!”

“You gonna stop being such a damn brat?”

“Yes yes yes—! I’ll do anything you want, jus’ please let me cum”

His breaths begin to stagger. He’s cumming.

“Cum baby, cum all over my dick” he rubs on your clit, tipping you over the edge. Any and all sound you hear is blocked out, you can only feel yourself floating.

Your little cunt strangles Fushiguro as his cream fills you, the white liquid spilling out as he fucks it in and out of you.

Your body collapses onto the sofa below you as you come down from your high, twitching from the aftershocks of your orgasm. He really fucked your brains out.

The edges of your vision begin to fade into white as you feel your limp body being scooped up and carried out of the room.

You fade in and out of consciousness when you feel a warm wet material run up and down your skin, seeing a tall figure looming over you before you finally black out for good.

Your eyes flutter open, taking note of your surroundings. You were in Fushiguro’s bedroom. Feeling a heavy arm around your waist, you turn your head to find him sleeping peacefully next to you.

‘He looks so cute when he’s sleeping.’ you smile sheepishly, attempting to slide out of his hold only for him to pull you closer.

“Gonna leave without saying goodbye first?” he speaks in his deep morning voice, the sounds going straight to your core.

“We can’t let our parents catch us like this. And if I keep listening to your morning voice I just might fuck you while they’re here.” you admit.

He lets out a deep chuckle “I don’t mind, let them listen.” he pulls you even closer, his morning wood pressing up against your ass.

His voice is seriously doing something to you. If he kept testing you, you’d end up taking him up on his offer. But you can’t let it distract you, you have to get dressed.

“I’m serious, I gotta get dressed” you say flatly.

Fushiguro lets out a whine, not really wanting you to leave. “Fine,” he surrenders, pressing a kiss to your nape that makes you shiver.

Sliding from his grip, you scour the room for your clothes, slipping them on as he comes up to hug you from behind.

“Are you gonna let me see you again?” he presses his lips to your shoulder and neck, waiting for a response.

You think over the question for a minute. Considering what it would be like to have a recurrent fuck buddy. None of the other guys you slept with could get you off properly, except Fushiguro.

Fushiguro actually was a decent guy despite being a dickwad most of the time, he was also someone you could trust after knowing him for so long. Besides, he knew how to fuck.

You answer his question with a simple nod, turning around in his hold and wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Good,” he presses a kiss to your lips, his hands snaking down past the small of your back to grab a handful of your ass.

“Megumi!” you hear a voice call out to him. It sounds like… his dad?

His eyes blow wide as he shoves you into his closet without warning. You decide to keep quiet, but you notice your panties are on the floor in perfect view as his father enters the room, telling Fushiguro to help move the rest of the boxes.

You can only hope he doesn’t notice but his eyes make direct contact with the fabric as he’s about to leave the room, shooting his son a shit eating grin.

You would be embarrassed, but you take note of the box of rubbers sitting on the shelf next to you. ‘That sneaky little fucker.’

You couldn’t complain, you wanted to feel all of him anyways. Your attention is turned back to the two people in front of you.

“That’s my boy!” the older man cheers as he humps the air, smacking it with his open palm as if it were a woman. He pats Megumi on the back before exiting the room.

“My son is the man!” he shouts proudly throughout the entire house.

You slowly emerge from the closet, hands forming in an ‘ok’ sign as if to say “Smooth.”

He laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of his nape. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

You wave him off, assuring him there’s no problem.

“So uh, see you next Saturday?”

You nod giving him a smile, turning around to leave his room. Saturdays were your favorite day, but you didn’t mind giving that up if it meant spending your free time with him. He had you wrapped around his little finger already and he didn’t even know it.

Maybe Fushiguro isn’t so bad after all.

Oops-

You mean Megumi.

#megumi smut #megumi fushiguro #jjk smut #megumi x you #megumi x reader #megumi headcanons #jjk megumi #jujutsu kaisen smut #tw belly bulge #tw blood

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Little Bones 3

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series); harassment, general creepiness.

This is dark! (biker) Thor x chubby!reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: You’re a city girl stuck in a small town, but Birch isn’t as sleepy as it seems.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown and When the Weight Comes Down

Note: Another random update of a series for y’all as I toil away at drabbles in between!

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Masterlist

Your skin crawled as you walked to work the next morning. The memories of the night before made you cringe and tuck your chin down as you kept your eyes ahead of you. You feared if you looked around, you might summon the incessant biker from his hole.

The library was as empty as any other day and you claimed your seat at the curved desk. You booted up and sipped from your thermos, the coffee bitter on your tongue as you watched Melissa appear from the non-fiction section. She sat in her own chair and yawned as she signed on.

The monotony of Birch was sobering after the night in the dank bar. The bikers and their own little world, a microcosm of the worst types all in one place. You went about your usual tasks, there were a few returns on the cart to put back on the shelves and you walked the shelves and checked for out of order codes.

The hours slaked by like the peaks of a mountain against ancient gales. The stale lights made the days stretch to tedium and the grey without added to the sense of listlessness. Colin’s low snores escaped the back room and Melissa sorted through bent paperbacks in a far aisle to put out for the Sunday penny sale.

As the windows darkened, Colin gave his usual grumbled farewell and further mussed his wavy hair as he tried to smooth it out. It didn’t matter much as he covered it with the old faded Leafs toque and left through the automatic doors. His shadow was soon followed by Melissa as she looked forward to seeing her daughter and watching some new program on the local channel.

You were the last as you walked the aisles before final lock-up. The automatic doors were off as you checked for unlikely stragglers. You came back to the round desk and flipped off the lights for all but the entry way and the back office. You pushed open the door and locked the outside ones with a jangle of keys. As you turned back, you gripped the big key to the back door and shook your head.

You stepped through the space between the inner doors and stared at the man behind your desk. He sat in your chair, your purse sat before him on the counter as he shoved a large hand inside. You crossed your arms and watched Thor as he pulled out your coral coloured wallet and unsnapped it.

“What are you doing?” You asked harshly. “How did you get in here?”

He snickered and pulled out a card and lifted it up to look at it closely. He leaned back and flicked it with his thumb. “I knew you were a city girl.” He said.

“Get out. We’re closed.”

“Sorry, I’m late. I’m a busy man.” He slid the card back in place and searched the rest, uninterested by the few bills inside the fold and your various reward cards and outdated alumni ID.

“Late? You don’t seem the reading type. We don’t have that many audiobooks.” You neared and grabbed the other handle of your purse. “There’s an app for that now.”

Again, he laughed and dropped your wallet into the depths of your purse. He released it and pushed his shoulders back as you dragged the bag off the desk. He tilted his head and held up your phone in its shiny lavender case. He smirked as the screen lit up and he swiped it open. You never should have added the library as a trusted location.

“Hmm,” he turned it to face him and scrolled with his thumb, “I think you’re missing a number in here.”

“Give it.” You reached for the phone and he held it away from you like some annoying teenager. “Hey… Thor! Give me it. It’s mine!”

His blonde lashes flashed and he looked at you with delight. “Oooh, I love it when you say my name.”

“Stop. You can’t be in here and you certainly can’t--” 

You swiped for the phone again and he caught your arm. He yanked you so hard you almost left the floor and you dropped your purse and keys. He held you over the counter as he twisted your wrist just a little.

“And who exactly is going to make me leave?”

He kept his thick fingers locked around your wrist as he searched your phone. You struggled with him but it only sent a violent jolt up to your elbow.

“I can do whatever I want and you can’t do anything to stop me. In fact, there’s no one in this town who can.” His jaw clenched and he locked your phone. “Well, kitten, I’m going to hold onto this.” He let go of you and stood as you retracted your arm and rubbed your sore wrist. “And when you want to be a good girl for me, you can come find me and ask for it nicely.”

“Ask? You’re crazy. It’s mine. You’re--” you sputtered.

You swallowed as his hand balled to a fist and his brow twitched. It was the first hint of anything but amusement. It was much more troubling, a slight tell. He was angry.

“I’ve been nice, kitten. I like you and your claws but don’t scratch too deep.” He warned as he backed away. “I’ll see my way out unless of course… you would take me up on my offer from last night.”

“Go. Keep the fucking phone.” You snarled and reached for your purse and the keys. 

You stood and watched as he ran his tongue just below his teeth and turned away. He snaked his way through the back office and you heard the heavy metal door whine in his stead. You locked the inner doors and grabbed your jacket from the rack.

You went to the same door and hit the lights. You activated the security system and stepped out with a cautious look around the vacant parking lot. You locked the door and headed around the side of the brick building and out into the glow of the streetlights.

You could get a new phone, that was nothing, just a chunk out of your check. He could search your contacts, your apps, your phones, he’d find nothing but the pathetic life of a thirtysomething wash out. That wasn’t what worried you. 

He was watching you. He had to be. He knew when you were alone and he knew how to get in. You might not see him but you were certain he could see you. You shivered and pulled your hate over your head and puffed out a cloud. 

💀

You went home angry but slightly addled from the encounter. You watched over your shoulder the entire way home and locked your door with the tarnished chain. You found it hard to settle as you debated marching over to the bar and demanding your phone back and opening the wine you hadn’t touched since your impulsive purchase. You really hated Thor but you knew you could push him much further before he did something much worse.

You ignored your wrath and ate your dinner in front of the television before hiding under your covers and watching the snowfall until you fell asleep. Every night was as dull as the one before and the morning always came too quickly.

You woke and readied for your day with a cup of home-brewed Colombian roast and packed your lunch. You searched for your phone for two seconds before you remembered where it was. Your neck prickled as you thought of Thor with access to all your information and the barren social media accounts. 

The snow was even deeper that day and you fought through the thick carpet. The library felt twice as far by the time you reached it and you were panting as you entered and shook off the powder. You took your usual spot at the usual time with your usual thermos and usual disillusion.

You whiled away the hours without the distraction of your phone. You realised how easily this man could torture you and not even be in the same place as you. You went searching in the aisles for something to do and scraped the gum off the bottom of the tables. A disgusting task but work nonetheless.

When the end of the day came, you were all too happy to go home and hide under your duvet with a tea and a sitcom. You hated this. You would go to the city and get a new phone if you had too. God, how much would that cost?

💀

The days slogged by and on your first free day, you were too tired to make the drive out of town. You resigned to your procrastination, instead taking a short walk down the main street to Babs’. Your usual order, but cinnamon instead of caramel in your latte, and a scone to enjoy at home.

The snow remained as thick as days before. You looked out the bakery window in dread as you awaited your order at the end of the counter. You still caught yourself reaching for your phone. If you waited too long, you might not even be able to make it into the city. Well, you could always order something online. 

The door chimed as Steve’s girl came to the other side of the counter and placed your latte out for you. She smiled and you thanked her but her eyes rounded as you heard boots come close. You turned, barely surprised by the man who was better described as your shadow those days. 

Since his visit to the library, Thor had made himself known in several instances, every day as you walked home he was outside the asp, watching. Other times, he’d be waiting by the steps of the library, mocking you silent as he pulled out your phone. You had too much pride to ask for it back and you knew that it would take more than asking.

You tried to sidestep him and he blocked your path. The foam pushed out through the hole in the plastic lid and you sighed.

“What do you want?” you hissed.

“I should ask you. I don’t know many girls these days can go days without their lifeline,” he taunted, “You know, it’s dangerous how much of ourselves we keep on these little things.”

He patted his jacket where he no doubt had your phone hidden. You looked down at your latte and thought of popping the lid off and tossing it at him. That wouldn’t be any good. You shrugged and looked past him.

“I gotta go--”

“Is there anything I can get you, Thor?” Steve’s girl eked out as if her voice could barely fit through her windpipe.

“I’ve come for something sweet but I think I found it,” he smirked, his eyes stuck to you.

“Give it up,” you scoffed and elbowed past him. He chuckled and followed you to the door as you sped up, your treads squeaking on the salt-stained floor.

“On you? Never,” he purred as you pulled the door open and he caught it behind you.

“You can break the phone for all I care,” you snarled, “just leave me alone.”

He kept up with you as flakes gathered on your scarf and you peered down the street and ran across. His boots crunched in time with yours as he lingered in your peripheral. You spun as you came to a stop on the other side and scowled.

“Jesus, I thought dogs were supposed to be obedient,” you snapped.

“I can be,” he winked and reached to brush the snow from the hair poking out from under your cap, “I’ll gladly get to my knees for you, kitten.”

You snapped at his hand and he pulled away with a surprised laugh. You gritted your teeth and took a step back.

“I won’t tell you again and I’m getting real tired of this.”

“You keep forgetting who you’re meowing at, kitten,” he stepped closer and you backed away again.

You turned and flitted away from him. You had not planned for him in your day off and you weren’t going to let him ruin it. You wanted to go home and enjoy your coffee, alone. However, that meant leading him to your front door. You stopped again.

“Go,” you pointed across the street at the Asp, the town’s marquee.

“Oh, kitten, you’re so cute,” he tugged on your scarf and you swatted him away.

“Alright, that’s it!” you smashed your cup against his chest and the hot liquid steamed as it splashed across his front and dripped down his leather jacket. 

He held out his arms as he looked down at himself and slowly back to you. His blue eyes dilated as the ends of his golden hair sopped with caffeine. It was too late to apologize, too futile. You sputtered and quickly turned away.

You were thankful when you didn’t hear him behind you. You stopped and peaked back at the corner of the next side street. He watched you still and even at a distance you could see his rage.

If you hoped he’d lose interest, that optimism was dead.

💀

A snow storm stagnated the already stale town and you could guess that the highway was even worse. You could replace your sim online but that would take at least a week to arrive and with the weather, likely longer. It might be quicker to wait out the blizzard. You stayed in limbo, reluctant to pull the trigger.

You kept to your apartment for the rest of the weekend, with no reason or want to leave. On your way, you didn’t see him. You sighted a few figures through the falling powder but they were faces familiar to the streets. You kept an eye over your shoulder, glancing around every few steps.

You avoided the cafe. He might look for you there, he might even be waiting for you. You sat down at your desk but felt out of place. He could walk through those doors like he had only days before. He could taunt you and tease you. What made you so antsy was that he could do worse than that. You knew it but you’d let your temper get the best of you. A wasted latte might have cost you everything.

By the end of your shift, it was decided. You were leaving Birch. No one could know until you were gone. Not Melissa, not Colin, no one. You old all-weathers would have to get you down the highway, just to the city so you could lose yourself there until you had a real plan. Even as the snow piled higher and higher, there could be no delay. You’d waited long enough.

Paranoid, you were certain you’d be met again on your path home. The town was dead as the soft blanket covered the ground. The flakes turned to mounds and the tops of your boots let in errant clumps of snow. The store may as well been closed for the day, the library had been little different but its lethargy was expected. Even The Asp seemed to have dulled with the pale gusts.

You packed a bag. One. The apartment came furnished and you never cared much for miscellany. Anything you left behind was replaceable. You went down the back stairs and cleaned off your small Focus. Used but reliable. You were out of breath as you climbed into the driver’s seat and threw the brush in the back.

You drove carefully down the side streets, snaking around as you knew the main fair would give away your escape. You stopped at the sign that pointed to the highway ramp and wondered. 

What if he had got the clue? What if you were running from nothing?

You remember the look in his eye and shivered. No, that glimmer assured you that return to your mother’s was as wise as it would be torturous. You followed the arrow and took the curve steadily with your foot planted on the gas. The traffic was slow and cautious as headlights were barely visible through the snowfall.

You gripped the wheel tightly and let out a breath. You would be gone before he knew. You’d get a new phone, a new job, a new life. Even if it was just pay-as-go, a McDonald’s visor, and your mother’s couch for a while. What good was a job in a place like Birch anyway? Just as good as your irrelevant degree.

You were startled and nearly lost control as a set of lights appeared behind you in the next lane. They were dangerously close to dinging your rear bumper as the reckless driver took a u-turn right before the upcoming barriers. You wrinkled your brow as you glared at them through the white haze. What kind of maniac was pulling shit like that in this weather?

And then, they did hit you. A nudge but enough to send you veering in the thick lines of snow. You clutched the wheel and tried to steer into it, tried to right yourself as you were knocked again. Your heart was in your throat as the engine revved and you hit your brakes, not knowing what else to do as a third collision came.

You spun out and hit the cement wall along the far lane, narrowly missing another car as it pulled ahead. You stilled, your seatbelt saving your face from a smack against the wheel, and stared down the highway as you stared at oncoming traffic. You were completely turned around on the arm.

You caught your breath and reached for your purse. Fuck, you had no phone. What was that asshole thinking? It didn’t seem like an accident.

The car that had bullied you into a crash pulled up along the barrier. You watched in the rear view as the barely visible tail lights glowed and a dark figure appeared between the car and the concrete. You squinted as the man neared, a long coat flapped around his tall figure as he held his hand to his face.

He came up beside your car as you heard his voice muffled through the glass and tapped on your window. He bent and knocked again as you shot him the finger. You were ready to give him a piece of your mind. You rolled down the window with the manual crank and growled, “what the fuck!?”

“Can I have your name, darling?” he asked in a sinisterly familiar accent.

“Screw you! You almost killed me!”

He turned his phone out as you screeched at him and quickly put it back to his ear, “that sound like her?”

A deep voice rumbled in the speaker and the dark-hair man nodded as he shielded his face from the blowing snow, “you owe me, brother.”

“Who the fuck are you?” you spat and reached to your glovebox. You grabbed the heavy flashlight and swung it at him, “get away--”

He caught with a leather-gloved hand and glared back at you. He tucked away the phone in his jacket. His nostrils flared and his green irises caught fire. 

“Let’s not do this, darling,” he warned, “my brother has given me clearance to use whatever force necessary…” he pushed the button and pulled open your door as he wrenched away the metal flashlight, “and while he seems the bigger brute, I assure you his cruelty cannot match mine.”

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #marvel #mcu #tw:dark fic #dark fic #dark!fic #fic #series #little bones #biker AU #biker!thor #biker thor #avengers #threequel #sequel #chubby!reader #au #biker!au

[misterewrites]

Mystery at the Salt-Irons

Hey everyone! E here with a new chapter! kept you waiting huh? Haha sorry it's been a busy few weeks. Nothing serious but I had to keep starting and stopping this chapter so it threw me off but it's here, it's ready and I hope you enjoy it!

I have some special guests in this story, some ocs made by my friends because you know what I can so I will and honestly, they were really great oc ideas guys. so keep an eye out for @hains-mae and Biz_fantasist  OC(I don’t know if she has a tumblr but it’s late so I’ll edit it later) 

That's it for me! I hope you are all stay safe, keep your loved ones safe, wash your hands, wear your masks, push to give everyone the vaccine cuz this is getting ridiculous. I hope you have a great week, thank you for reading. I deeply appreciate and feel free to share it with your friends, give me feedback. Reblog and comments all that fun stuff! Thanks and I'll see you soon!

Here’s the chapter over at Ao3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/85394095

Here’s the story from the beginning if you’re curious what this is about

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/75486005

and here’s a list of all my work both original and the various fandoms I write for

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

Summary:  Finnrick is called to solve a mysterious case as per his job as the city's only Private Investigator wizard but as he sinks deeper into the case, the more it seems that something is happening behind the scenes. Of course with an old friend in town and dark magic surrounding the case, Finnrick is as busy as ever. Ain't no rest for the wicked.

-----

The Salt-Iron Flats weren’t anything special on the surface: An unassuming apartment complex on the north side of Newton Haven, the only thing most people remembered about the place was how the price tag hurt their souls.

Of course, unlike the general housing market, the Salt-Irons (affectionately referred to by the locals) actually had a very reasonable reason for fetching such a high rate: The salt and cold iron baked into every single brick that formed the building.

If you weren’t in the magical know, you’d think it utterly insane that you’d be forced to pay such a large amount of cash because some weirdo decided to make a new age artistic statement with bricks. Of course, if you are aware of the greater community at large, you’d knew you were paying the insanely large sum because someone decided to make the Salt-Irons the single most protective location in the city.

Most mortals have forgotten their history, their lore and collective knowledge passed down throughout the generations: Why their ancestors used to place lines of salt in front of the door and windows, why the elders always suggested to the braver, recklessly youthful family members to carry iron whenever they ventured through the wild.

Outer beings were repelled by salt and iron. No one really had an idea why fae, angels and demons weren’t fond of salt or iron and there's been plenty of arguing about the subject but all in all the fact remained they did not do well when faced with either.

That was the main reason Finnrick didn’t find himself in the north side of town often.

Well that and the zealous Gate Keepers. Those guys were freaks but between them and the Salt-Irons being the only supernatural community up here, Finn never got a case from the area.

Until today.

The Salt-Irons were great at protecting you from any outside threats that wished you ill will: It didn’t protect you from anything you decided to bring in with you.

It was five in the morning when Finnrick got the call. The M.R.R.D representative didn’t have much to offer beyond the address and floor but he thanked her all the same.

Finnrick yawned tiredly, stretching the tension out of his neck while he sipped his coffee. He let out a sigh of relief as the sun slowly rose into the sky.

The Salt-Irons was a twelve story tall building painted a ghastly pale green that made Finnrick sick just looking at it.

“People are paying how much to live in that shade? I’d ask for discount if I were them.” Finnrick laughing to himself, making his way into the apartment complex.

Luckily the interior was much nicer than the outside: Everything was well kept and cleaned. Not a single speck of dust in sight and the wooden stairs didn’t creak when Finnrick placed his foot on them.

Which was good given Finnrick needed to go up seven flights of stairs.

Finnrick wheezed a little, wiping the sweat from his brow when he reached the seventh floor. He glanced down the hall one way then the other as he began to search for room 707 which basic deductive reasoning suggested should be around the corner.

Finnrick crushed the empty foam cup and tucked it into his coat pocket as he made his way to 707. It was a simple wooden door and immaculately spotless just like the rest of the place. He rose his hand and gently rapped on the door.

No response.

He frowned, checking if he was still alone in the empty hallway and rose his hand towards the door frame.

His eyes glowed with a blue energy as he whispered softly “Revelis”

The door gleamed with a bluish hue for a moment before fading away without a trace.

No protective spells laced over the frame so the only thing Finn had to worry about now if it was locked.

He tried the knob, unsurprised when it swung open silently.

“It’s not breaking and entering if someone’s expecting you” Finnrick justified to himself as he pushed the door in.

He nearly staggered backwards: The air tasted thick and foul like something had been left rotting inside. His skin prickled with anxiety, a chill running down his spine with each step he took further in.

Finnrick took deep, calming breathes while doing his best to ignore the bitter taste that seem to cling the air within.

He noticed the trail of footsteps, perfectly preserved in what appeared to be black dust leading deeper into the living room.

“Hey da! You here?” Finnrick called out, carefully stepping closer “You and ma still married?”

There was a deep grunt of acknowledgment before a voice responded “Sorry son, we’re divorced now. She got custody of you.”

“Well fuck. I guess I’m going to be eating kale and poorly cooked spinach for the rest of my life.”

Garrus Valka was not in fact Finnrick’s father, adoptive or otherwise. He was actually one of the highest ranked officers of the Magical Rapid Response Department: An elf clocking in at 200 years old with richly tanned skin. His bluish gray hair was slicked back in his preferred style. Garrus’s had his back turned to the detective but Finn knew his sliverish gray eyes were deep in concentration as he took down notes about the surroundings. His beautifully inhuman features were marred with a scar on the right side of his face: burnt skin on his cheek, healed by time and various surgeries. An old war wound though Finn never got the full story.

He was dressed in typical M.R.R.D fashion: Dark blue windbreaker, jeans and a blue shirt with the words “Powered by coffee and spite” splashed across the front. His Winchester rifle was slung across his back, ready for any action that may befall the elf.

“Drift.” Garrus greeted teasingly while offering a hand.

Finnrick gave it a playful shake “Da. So is mom here or she trying to smite pigeons again?”

“THEY TRIED TO STEAL MY HOTDOG!” Garrus’s partner Eden screamed from another room “I SHALL BRING MY GOD’S WRATH UPON THEM!”

“You know when they mean justice.” Finnrick called out “I don’t think they mean against winged rats.”

Eden chuckled darkly “You know not their sins.”

“Okay.” Finnrick nodded despite the fact she couldn’t see him “If you say so. What happened Da? Aside powerful necromancy.”

“Powerful necromancy” Garrus replied cheekily “and missing persons.”

Finnrick rose an eyebrow “Persons? More than one?”

“Two: A father and son. Richard Charles and his son Richard Jr. Recluses it seems. Neighbors hardly saw them. Mostly kept to themselves.”

Finnrick pursed his lips thoughtfully “Any magical abilities?”

“They’re not on records if that’s what you mean.” Garrus answered “Never signed up in the academy, not registered with The Council. If they were practitioners they didn’t tell anyone.”

“So what was the spell? I just smell the remnants of spookiness.”

“Hadn’t noticed the rest of the room huh?”

Finnrick frowned before finally getting a good look at the rest of the room: Every inch of the apartment was blanketed with the same black dust that he found in the entrance way. Inches and inches of the substance and that wasn’t the strangest part.

Everything was bent at different and odd angles: chair with crooked legs, the wall clock warped and twisted, the fridge leaning like someone folded it in half. Floorboard reached for the sky and walls split inward.

There was a common misconception about magic. Most people thought spell casters, especially wizards, could command reality to their wills. That magic was capable of impossible feats and it was as simple as snapping your fingers.

The truth was all magic, ranging from divinity to free range nature, was performed on a micro scale. Practitioners did not alter reality but rather shortcut it. Throwing fireballs was as simple as rapidly heating the air until it combusted. Turning invisible was less about vanishing completely as it was bending the light around you to not be seen. Magic was rooted in reality and imagination. If you had the magical strength to perform the magic, the magic often followed your lead.

Of course there were spells that required much more than magical hand and willpower. Powerful magic, like summoning outer beings or raising an army of zombies, required both time and materials. Magic was like any other energy: you needed enough of it to perform what you wanted. The human body could only generate so much magic without dying and resting was necessary to replace any expended in the use of spells. Materials were guidelines for the spell. Feathers for anything with flight, ash for fireballs etc etc.

The other thing needed was to gather energy and store it for the spell’s use. There were different ways to achieve this: Wands, talismans, potions were basically magic soups. The most efficient way to gather energy was the wizards preferred way: Circles.

Finnrick eyed the room closely this time, murmuring under his breath about angles and trajectory. Garrus paid him no mind, well familiar with the private investigators methods.

“If this went like that” he gestured to the wall clock “and that went here.”

Finnrick glanced about, carefully walking about as if worried he was going to step on a landmine.

“Here.” Finnrick found himself staring at a spot in the middle of the room “Ventus.”

He gestured with a hand and light breeze filled the room. It brushed away some of the dust covering floor, revealing the outline of a half melted metal ring.

“What is it?” Garrus turned curiously

“Spell circle. The source of the explosion. I’m willing to bet it’s custom made. Copper, steel. Maybe some bits of tin couldn’t stand the surge.”

“No iron or sliver?”

Finnrick shook his head “That’s for containing or repelling monsters. Necromancy is more about drawing in the evil entities. Or sucking out life.”

Garrus sighed tiredly “Don’t touch?”

“Only if you want to live to see retirement. Might have some pent up magic ready to blow outwards.”

“Understood. I’ll call in our guys. I’ll let you know if something comes up.”

Finn nodded gratefully while pulling out a vial and motioning to the elf “Mind if I do?”

“Be my guest, you might find something we’d miss.”

Finnrick smiled gratefully before scooping up some of the dust and sealing it within the vial.

“Take care Garrus, stop fighting birds Ma!”

“Flying rats!”

-----

The cafe was lively despite being early but that was no surprise given it was Mother’s. Mother’s was the single best food establishment in all Newton Haven and if anyone disagreed, they were allowed to have their opinions.

They were also allowed to be wrong.

Finnrick paused in the doorway, breathing in the scent of well cooked eggs and sweet lemonade. The pop and sizzle of heated grease brought a sense of comfort to the hard working private investigator.

“Finny Drift!” Maddie Copperstone called from behind the counter “How’s my favorite customer holding up?”

Maddie was 40 years young with tastefully curled dark brown hair. Human, little on the short side but fierce. She wore a simple red blouse and jeans, both stained with flour that the apron around her waist did not prevent.

Finnrick bounced over cheerfully, reaching over the counter to give the matron the biggest hug he could muster “I’m good Maddie. Working a case.”

Maddie’s brown eyes searched his face carefully “You always working Finny. You resting as much?”

“Scout’s honor.”

Maddie let out a disbelieving chuckle “You weren’t ever a Scout.”

“Honorary scout after I stopped that bear from eating them.”

“Thought it was a giant raccoon.”

“Yes but people don’t take giant raccoon seriously. He here?”

Maddie clicked her tongue disappointingly but motioned to the booth at the far end of the establishment “Rest.”

Finnrick rose his hand in surrender “After.”

“Never you mean!” Maddie shouted after him.

Amos Frye hadn’t changed much since last he was roaming around Finnrick’s neck of the woods: Handsome with soft gray eyes that reminded Finn of gathering storm clouds. His long black hair was tied in a messy bun held up by a golden pin, a braided strand hung loosely near his face. His beard was much shorter than what Finnrick remembered though he noted the unkempt split ends indicated that Amos hadn’t trimmed it in a few weeks. His iconic dark red sleeveless jerkin and black jean combination would look ridiculous on a lesser man but had allowed the monster hunter to show off his muscular frame. His brown skin was a bit more pale than usual so no doubt Amos had been operating at night lately.

“Finnrick, you cheeky bastard! I am so glad you came!” Amos beamed happily, his various bangles and bracelets clinking together in equally joyous celebration as the two shook hands.

“Amos! Happy to see you.” Finn beamed brightly as he slid into the booth across his old friend “Why though? Family trouble?”

Amos’s joyfully gleam turned dark for a moment.

“No. Have you…?”

Finnrick shook his head quickly “Not a word. Sorry, I hadn’t meant to…”

Amos waved the apology away “No worries cuz. I understand why you’d think that. Coming across the pond isn’t a spur of the moment thing and Os has always been the black sheep of the family. I suppose no news is good news.”

“Right.” Finnrick cleared his throat awkwardly “So what’s the trouble? I doubt you’d call me up for a nip and chat.”

“Rightly so.” Amos confirmed, reaching into the bag at his side and pulling out a folder “Hunting business as usual cuz.”

That made sense: Amos was the latest of a long family whose specialized business was monster hunting. The Fryes had been striking at things that went bump in the night for centuries ever since the first Frye defended the folk of some underground society.

Amos was an average wizard if Finnrick was being generous. That was not a slight against his old friend, it was a matter of fact: Amos spent most of his time honing the physical aspects of his profession which was obvious given the size of his arms. Any spells he knew were purely for defensive or preventive measures so he often communicated with Finnrick for higher quality and complex spellwork.

Finnrick took the folder from Amos and began pouring over its contents.

Most were quickly scrawled notes Amos had noticed about his quarry: Long sliver hairs, canine in nature. Large paw prints found in the areas it had been sighted, far too big to any natural wolf. Wulfvur and werewolf were hastily written and as quickly crossed out. A pattern of hanging out in wild areas, often forests and swamps.

There were pictures too: flashes of sliver, blurs of fangs and muzzles darting in and out of camera frame. It was always a distance away, sprinting deeper into the wildness. It was hard to tell from the photos but Finn guessed it might’ve been 10 feet tall at the very least.

“Why we hunting wolves now?” Finnrick asked curiously.

Amos flagged down the waitress “Contract given to my pa. It was hanging around the marsh lands of the jolly old isles. Someone wanted it gone.”

Something wasn’t clicking with Finn “and you followed it here? From England?”

“Nah cuz” Amos gave a cheeky grin “I tackled it through a portal and found I illegally crossed into America.”

“Ah.” Finnrick nodded in understanding “Fae.”

“Fae?” Amos frowned thoughtfully “I thought that too but I never heard of any snarling wolfie breaking into homes and snatching out wee younglings in them old folktales.”

“Fae are weird.” Finnrick shrugged “Their whole shtick is not making any sense. I had to expel a cat the size of a bus once. Double decker tall.”

Amos whistled in appreciation as he scratched his bread “So fae. Slippy fellow as you can tell. Whatcha recommend?”

“What’s the contract?”

“Banishment. It’s looking like wolfie ended up in the wrong part of town.”

“I think you mean next town over. Fixed a pattern yet?”

“Not yet but I wasn’t looking for one.” Amos admitted “Thought I was tracking some mutant. Fae changes a lot. Magical circles?”

“Easiest way to catch it.” Finnrick agreed “Sliver for sure. Iron would hurt it and based on your files, it hasn’t done anything than thin the local wildlife population. No need to anger mister big bad wolf.”

“Good call. I got some talent to handle a few circles but tracking is not really my speed.”

“I’m on a case but if you swing by the M.R.R.D, maybe they’ll loan you a wizard.”

Amos let out a disappointed sigh “I need to take care this sometime this year Finny. Bloody bureaucracy probably set me back a month at least.”

“There’s always Jaime but she’s pretty busy at work.”

“Jaime huh?” Amos smiled mischievously “I haven’t talked to your sister in a long time.”

“I will curse you.” Finnrick playfully threatened “And not no simple hex either. I’ll make you bald.”

Amos gasped dramatically, clutching at his hair protectively “You wouldn’t dare mate.”

“Shinier than the sun.”

“Okay, okay” Amos conceded “I’m kidding. She’s with Casey anyway. Good couple. Cute couple. He still hopelessly selfless and she still trying to fast track her way to power?”

“Yep.”

“You gonna fix that?”

Finnrick shook his head “It’s their lives. Their choices.”

“Idiots.” Amos chuckled “the lot of them.”

“All you need is love?”

“Spoken true the gospel of my land.”

-----

A few hours later with a brainstorm session completed and a promise to help out the next day, Finnrick left Amos to his work and continued with his own.

It was noon now and as the sun rose high in the sky, Finnrick found himself at the Grimyard.

The Grimyard was the premiere spot for all things magical in Newton Haven: Rows and rows of shops specifically catering to the magic community. The streets were paved with century old cobblestone and the buildings here were various hues of faded brick and mortar. It was easy to get lost in the Grimyard if it was your first time as the Grimyard did not spread out, it stacked downward. Layers upon layers of the Grimyard were actually underground to allow those with issues against the sun to sell their goods and services at all times of the day. Don’t let the dark fool you, anyone with worthy talent or product was here in the Grimyard.

Normally Finnrick would wander around a bit, checking out the various businesses and protective wards around the mile long patch of land but he was on the clock and the sooner he began to figure out what was going on, the sooner he could stop it.

Luckily for him, his destination was right here on the top floor of the marketplace. Specifically furthest back corner.

Knightly Ore was ran by the Knight family. Originally they only sold rare metals and ores which were necessary components for some of the more complicated magicks. At some point the owners expanded into selling more alchemical materials and eventually brewing potions, salves and such for a fee.

Despite decent business, it was the most rundown building in this part of the Grimyard: Broken window shudders with the paint faded down to the original shade when the business first opened decades ago. The humble black door was crooked and creaked whenever it moved

Finnrick knew the owners fairly well but here wasn’t here for them. He was here to see their son.

He pushed past the building, ducking into the alley that led to the lot directly behind the shop.

“Halt!” A voice called out “Who seeks the Brewmaster of the Grimyard?”

“It is I, Finnrick the detective. I got money and I need work done”

The Brewmaster was Theodore Knight, an incredibly talented alchemist who didn’t have the same opportunities Finnrick did: He was pretty tall for his age (14 or 15, Finnrick lost track once or twice) but clearly a teenager given his short lavender hair had a few strands dyed red. His eyes were an unnatural pale blue, paler than the blue of the sky. He wore the usual attire Finn often found him in: A sleeveless dark blue hoodie with a fist sized red gem clasped in front just under his neck and a lighter shade blue t-shirt. He wore black finger-less gloves gripping his brown messenger bag slung around his shoulder. A matching brown pouch hung around the waist of his gray cargo shorts and his brown boots were kept clean despite his place of business was in an alley behind his parents shop.

Theo jumped out from a hidden shadowy corner of the lot “Finn, whatcha got for me now?”

Finnrick reached into his pocket, showing the eager teen the vial that held blacken dust within.

“That’s it?” Theo scoffed, rolling his eyes “I was expecting something…...cooler.”

He took the vial and raised it to the sun. Theo gave it a rough shake and watched it carefully for any properties the strange substance would display.

Theo frowned, clearly unsatisfied by what he saw “You brought me ash? Plain ash? It’s your money but even I think it’s a waste.”

“It’s ash?”

Theo shot the detective a look that screamed how obvious it should’ve been “Yes, ash. Thicker than what I’ve seen but ash all the same.”

Finnrick bit his cheek thoughtfully.

“Look Finn, you know my rates. I dunno what you want me to do but standard fees apply.”

“I’ll paying double.”

The Brewmaster’s eyes narrowed suspiciously “Double for ash? What’s so special about it?”

“Oh nothing." Finnrick pretended to look disinterested “Aside it was taken directly from a crime scene: Necromancy and cast via a half melted spell circle.”

It took Theo a minute to allow the implications of what Finnrick said to sink in. His eyes shifted from suspicion to wild excitement.

“Really?!” Theo clutched the vial like it was his first born child “Necromancy really doesn’t like many alchemy processes. It’s not going to be easy for me.”

“I know right?” Finnrick grinned impishly “It’s almost like I’m going to have to pay double for it.”

“Yeah, you’re gonna have to….” Theo pouted unhappily “Ha freaking ha. Okay smart guy, pay up.”

Finnrick handed over 50 gold. Theo took it eagerly, his eyes lightening up with glee.

Theo paused for a moment, his face turning oddly serious for a teenager.

“It might take me awhile depending on what you want.”

“I want to know what’s in it. Necromancy requires specific ingredients. After that it’ll be easier to track the seller.”

“And the buyer!” Theo blurted out excitedly “Smart.”

Finnrick ruffled his hair playfully “I wish I thought of it. You keep this up and you’re going to run me out of business.”

“I’ll text you when I have something.”

“Pleasure as always Theo.”

“It’s Brewmaster.”

-----

It was 2 in the afternoon when Finnrick made his way back to the Salt-Iron. He stood outside the complex, tossing the remains of his pizza into his waiting maw and crumpling the can of soda he was drinking before tucking into his coat pocket.

“What’s this?” Finnrick asked, utterly confused by the crushed foam cup he pulled from within “Oh right my coffee. I’ve been really at today.”

Finnrick wiped his hands clean and made his way inside the Salt-Iron once more, mulling over the details of the case as he ascended up the stairway.

Blacken ash cast by a spell circle. Both father and son missing with no indication where they went too. Recluses and rarely seen. Necromancy within a threshold.

It was hard to tell how deeply the father and son were involved in spell. Someone who had access to the apartment was behind it no doubt. Spell circles were the most consistent way to cast magic but they took time to build, set and channel energy. You didn’t build a spell circle without knowing exactly what you plan to do with it.

The nature of the magic was also a mystery: Dark magic had various applications and not a single one was good. Finnrick hadn’t much experience with that branch of magic but there was nothing logical about the aftereffects: Ash spread throughout the apartment, clinging to everything like a second skin. There was no signs of an outward blast given that nothing bent in the same direction. Everything in that room decided to twist in whatever wayit felt like. If the spell was supposed to draw in something then chair legs and wall tiles would’ve been pulled directly towards the circle.

“Curiouser and curiouser Alice” Finnrick spoke to no one in particular.

He was on the fifth floor when he noticed something odd.

Finnrick raised an eyebrow as the skies outside the window darken, black and stormy.

A thunderstorm it seems.

Finnrick peered out the window, glancing upwards to see what was going on.

Dark clouds swirled directly overhead. Rain began to lightly drizzle as the skies boomed. Thunder and a moment later lightning trailing across the gathering storm.

A thunderstorm that formed directly above this building.

Without warning.

“Well that’s not ominous.”

Finnrick made the mistake of leaning closer to the window, peering around to see if he could see where exactly the storm was coming from when it happened.

“Watch out below!”

Finnrick noticed three things in that moment: First, was of course, someone shouting to watch out below. Second was the distant sound of claws scratching something wooden, the walls perhaps. Lastly was the thudding of something falling down quickly and towards him.

Finnrick rose his hand, pivoting on his heels in time to see something crash into him.

It wasn’t much of a contest: Both Finnrick and whatever slammed into him broke through the fifth story window and went sprawling into a freefall.

#My story #Mirror's Edge #Original Work #original story

[binniesthighs]

call me babydoll | reader x chan

a/n: ahhhhh holy holy heck this chapter is SO DAMN EXCITING hehehe I had sosososo much writing and doing all the research!! please let me know if there is anything factual/cultural that I need to fix! I tried the best I could although I most def am not an expert in Egyptian culture so I appreciate it a lot :) hehe i hope ya have fun reading this chapter teehee oh! also I love hearing what you thought of it too! :D 

Four 

Pairing: self insert, female reader x bang chan 

Genre: action, mystery and suspense, fluff, smut, angst 

Tags: (of this part) bodyguard au, secret agent au, royal au, moderndayprince!chan, secretagent!reader, secretagent!jeongin, secretagent!jisung, collegestudent!seungmin, royal!minho, skz side characters, adventure and mystery, action and peril, plot driven, running out of time, slow-ish burn, growing feelings, sexual tension, explicit language, several mentions of food and alcohol as well as getting tipsy/drunk that good, good making out, suggestive themes

CWs: mentions of guns, mentions of knives, themes of jealousy (expressed by the reader) 

Word count: 7.5k

Parts 

ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE 

“Well, we’re in Cairo alright.” 

Two tugged the amazed young stow-away-student, Seungmin, by the hand of his backpack to keep him from running into one of the palm tree planters decorating the terminal. The young man had nearly slept the whole flight due to the length as well as the exasperation that he had just been through. While his eyes were still darkened from his nap, his glossy pupils still wondered all around him. 

“I take it back. I’m so glad that I almost died so I could end up here with you guys.” 

Jeongin slapped him from the backside of his head. “Never be thankful for almost dying. Life is a lot more fucking fragile than you think. This isn’t just some joyride--” 

“--Ease up F.” You interrupted your partner as you shouldered your bag. The kid had already been through enough already: he didn’t need accosting on top of it all. 

The dashing prince sighed out and stretched his arms. “Ahhhh Cairo. It’s been a while; too long actually.” 

The airport was humid: the kind of sticky warmth that dripped down your neck in a matter of seconds to then get caught above your lip. It wasn’t much help to the anxiety that already had seeped into your veins. The closer you got to a gun the more comfortable you would be. You and the other two guards created a formation around the prince with two in the front and the other in the flank. While each of you were dressed in regular street clothes, your responsibility of his detail still hung over your head with a severe air. 

Chan threw his arm over the young student with an obscene grin. His hair had become a little disheveled from the plane seat and his hoodie, but he didn’t appear to mind. Seeing him so normal was somewhat of an odd change to your previous unbreakable impression of him. 

“Seungmin my friend, you’ve never lived until you’ve been to Cairo. I’ve never seen another place so enriched in history in my whole life...it puts my kingdom to shame. It’s almost like...you can just feel the time here: hundreds of thousands of years...beauty, art, food, industry...I’ve got a thing or two to learn.” 

Seungmin nodded at the prince’s grandiose gestures in the terminal with an enamored smile. “I can’t wait to see it!” 

Your partner put a firm hand on the prince’s back to guide him to the baggage claim. “We won’t be here for long, so, don’t get too excited. We’ve come here for one reason and we shouldn’t dally otherwise.” 

The young boy appeared to frown, and Two bit his lip with a little chuckle. “Way to crush the kids dreams F.” 

“You know the mission, J.” Jeongin gritted his teeth with the words. “Everything is set, there will be a car waiting for us in the garage, and at the hotel we’ll have anything we need.” 

Prince Chan lulled his head back with heels clicking on the flooring. Rogue strands of his hair hung over his sunglasses where he threw a look back at you while pulling them down. 

“Don’t forget our little deal Bee? We’ll have time for a little pleasure.” 

The white haired agent rolled his eyes with gusto then adjusted the royal’s glasses over his face. “We’ve still got to be careful, you Highness. We never know where they could have eyes.” 

“I know where I’ve got mine...” He turned back once more to throw his cockiness in your general direction. 

“Listen to F, your Highness...if you want to live.” 

“Oooo. Feisty as ever, Bee. I love it when you bite back.” Chan turned to his new pet, Seungmin, “She’s really something isn’t she?”

The young man nodded, but not necessarily because he agreed, but it just seemed like it better to agree with a prince than to disagree with him. 

The air appeared to turn even thicker in the summery and arid city and your group approached the parking lot half shaded. Outside of the cement lot, iridescent waves of heat wiggled on the horizon, and further, the astonishing urban sprawl of Cairo, and just over it, the stretch of the Nile and Giza. Palms and other varieties of plants spotted the landscape and above it all, a perfectly crystal blue sky streaked with thin clouds. Had the circumstances been different, you really would have wished to have been there for pleasure. 

“This one. Right here.” Jeongin announced upon spotting the black armored sedan. It wasn’t the most inconspicuous vehicle, but you were prioritizing safety over aesthetics. Your partner touched his index fingerprint to the car door’s invisible panel, and it flashed blue just as the lock had at the safehouse with the ticking clock insignia. 

Two whipped his head around to make one last check of the surroundings before taking off his sunglasses and reddened eye. “Get in. Both of you.” He urged the prince and the student. He popped the drivers side open to find a different pair of glasses in the storage compartment: gold framed aviators. 

“Huh,” He said happily while putting them on. “This is more my style.” He rummaged around a bit more to find a new pair of black framed glasses there too. “Fox! Think fast!” He threw them over to your partner who sighed out with relief. 

“Thank god.” 

The trunk opened with a mechanical sounding creek, and you lifted up the trunk bed to find your whole arsenal: Heckler & Koch MP5′s submachines, Remington 870 shotguns, and Glocks complete with thigh holsters. Among the pile of metal, various knives and other weapons were held in foam holders. 

“They’ve got knives back there?” Two asked while pulling the rearview mirror to see. 

“Oh yeah. What? You more of a knife guy?” You teased while looping your thigh holster over your cargo pants. It fit just right. 

The illusive man popped his gum with a shiny smile. “‘Don’t ever have to reload them...that’s what I’m saying.” 

“Thank you Carroll.” Jeongin sighed upon seeing the thick laptop among the weapons. “Finally I can do some real work. That kid’s damn Chromebook was killing me. I nearly short circuited it trying to connect to our network.” 

“You what?!” Seungmin was suddenly much more interested. 

“Dont worry yourself too much, its still fine.” 

“Are there cameras in here?” You quickly asked your partner. 

“Agency should’ve fried them a long time ago. Why?” 

From the trunk bed you sized up the Glock to feel its weight and how cool it settled into your sweating hand. You unloaded the magazine to see that it had already been filled. 

“Carroll. She really is too kind to us.” You slid the magazine back in then, pulled back the slider to lock it once more, catching Chan’s adoring glance. 

“Something interesting pretty boy?” 

The prince appeared to shiver a little, but brushed it off sighing, “Oh, nothing.” 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

Either it was Carroll or the King, but someone had spared no expense on the young prince. The sun set upon the sparking Nile where you had arrived at the Four Seasons Hotel Cairo at Nile Plaza. 

Anything for His Royal Highness The Prince. 

The towering and gleaming building was a sight to behold in and of itself. It was nestled right into the riverside anchored with several leisurely sailboats bopping in the evening breeze. As day crept into night, the city grew with a swell of lights washing as far as you could see. Extensive bridges and roadways glowed with headlights and every building appeared to be illuminated along with more boats strolling down the river in a rainbow of colors and music. 

The prince craned his head as close to the window as he could and rubbed together his hands excitedly. He looked from you to your partners, finally making a disapproving scoff. 

“Come on. You’re not just a little excited to be here?” 

“We’re here on business, how many times do we have to explain?” Jeongin typed away at his computer from the front seat. 

“Bee?” He looked back to you with a hopeful little glint to his eye. 

“Like Fox said...tomorrow is our appointment with White Rabbit, then we’re on the first flight back home for you.” 

The young prince frowned, but this quickly faded once he had seen the golden brass doors to the magnificent hotel. Seeing the state that the four of you were in, it was a bit comical that you had rolled up to a place such as this. Immediately a valet and bellhop jogged up to the car wearing perfectly pressed uniforms and spotless shined shoes. Little did they know you had no belongings to your name...the rest was waiting in your suite: the royal kind. 

Seungmin cranked his neck to take in the scale of the building in all of it’s regal glory and let out an airy laugh his with his backpack straps snapped tight. 

“Holy shit.” He exclaimed with a giant smile 

Two rose a “no thank you” hand to the valet, and asked him where the garage was in perfect Arabic. The gesture surprised you...as many things did with that man. Jeongin gave a little nod in appreciation to the bellhop and expressed with his own broken version of Arabic that you group had no luggage. The young man was confused, but still gladly took the bills that Jeongin had slipped into his hand for the inconvenience. 

“We’re staying here?” Seungmin wondered while he followed you in. 

“When you travel with The Prince, it comes with some perks.” Chan tore off his glasses with a particularly prideful grin. 

“I feel like I need to pay for just...breathing in here.” 

Indeed, it was a luxurious and grand place. The atrium was patterned with various plush lounge chairs and benches and the path was made of emerald green marble tiles with swirling designs of beige loops. Thick, round columns also supported the ceilings in the lobby, and crystal glass chandeliers sparkled. On several tables, massive floral arrangements had been freshly placed, and you wondered how much the hotel must've paid for them to look that good just to have them replaced the next day. 

A couple formalities were exchanged with the worker at the front desk, and soon the keycards to the royal suite were placed into your hands. Seungmin held his piece of plastic as if it were a gold bar in his hands whereas Chan shoved it right into his front pocket. 

“Everything that we should need should be up in the room.” You told the group who were too distracted to hear what you had just said. 

Just before you had entered the elevator, a tug at your sleeve stopped you in your tracks. Jeongin pulled you back, nodding at Two to go with the others up first. 

“Remember what we talked about before?” He muttered in the hollow and stone corridor. “About the prince?” 

“I need to stay beside him?” 

Your partner nodded with a furrowing brow. “We’re out in the open here, it’s a big city...anyone could be watching us. No distractions, no messing around, no anything. We see White Rabbit and we leave. Hell, I’m even inclined to make sure he doesn’t leave the room...” 

“Jeongin...” You squeezed your partner’s shoulder which felt stringy and tense under your fingertips. “I got it. Trust me. He won’t leave my sight. I promise.” 

“..Okay.” He said with a nervous brush to his hair, then he pressed the elevator button with his knuckle. 

“You...okay?” 

The young man appeared to snap out of a trance. “What? ...Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be? I’m keeping it together fine. It’s just...there’s a lot riding on this mission. I don’t...” 

The gold and reflective elevator dinged to the ground floor. 

“We can’t disappoint Carroll with this one. There’s too much riding on it...I can’t disappoint Carroll.”      

You invited your partner into the marbled and mirrored interior of the small space. 

“Don’t worry, we won’t.”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━ 

 Even without the help of his royal helpers, Chan managed to clean himself up nice...provided, only the finest clothes had been sent for him to wear. While they weren’t the usual designer labels that he was used to, it was clear that they had been picked out from the finest markets and boutiques in the area. Chan, as he always was, was a prince to the full extent of the word. After a shower and some perfume to his chest, he was the same man that you had been introduced to. 

A loose linen shirt swayed from his frame with little regard for the usage of buttons. He wore slacks that had been pressed made of a kind of fabric that you had never seen before, but looked airy and comfortable. As always, there was a small assortment of shoes for him to choose from as well. He picked brown leather loafers, then tucked up his sleeves to reveal his arms; scratched as they were, but still strong and spiderwebbed with thick veins. 

Arrangements had been made for you to share one of the bedrooms with him--as much as you had fought it at first. Chan was thrilled with the idea, and gladly let you settle into his room with your small assortment of sidepieces and modest set of clothes by regulation of The Agency. While it had mostly been denim button downs and several kinds of functional trousers, they had sent an evening gown. 

The silky white fabric was not unlike the dress that had worn for the gala, but it appeared to be even more sultry once you held it to your frame. The thin spaghetti straps barely held to your shoulders and the back dipped nearly halfway down your back. 

Knowing the man that you had an appointment with, you figured the dress would make it just a little bit easier to talk to him. Along with it, there was a matching set of diamond earrings and a necklace that glinted with the same sheen of the sea. 

“You’ll look gorgeous in that.” Chan said while slipping on a wristwatch. “I’m sure that it will suit you perfectly.” 

The wooden bedside nightstand creaked when you put your holster and Glock in with a matching matte black knife. You had to be careful with that one, as it had nearly cut your finger upon inspection earlier.         

“Hm. I think the both of us know that you’d prefer it on these lovely marble floors rather than on me. Correct?” 

The confident prince strode across the room in the dim lighting of a couple lamps with stained glass shades. Outside of the balcony attached to your room, the sheer curtains blew in the night air and distorted the city lights across the river. Further, Cairo Tower surged with a pink light wrapping around the length were the cylinder pierced the sky. 

“Maybe.” He tutted, then crinkled the king-sized bed where he sat. The prince’s disposition was alluring, there was no denying. He tiled his head to inspect you further, jaw clenching with a sharp angle and a testing glare to his brown pupils. The man smiled slightly while rubbing his index and ring finger down the sleeve of your considerably less scratchy blouse. 

“I hope that during our time here Bee, I’ll get to know you a little better. I’m...really looking forward to our drink later. I made reservations for us.” 

“Reservations? When did you do that?” 

“Oh. When you were showering.” He smirked at his sneaky plans unbeknownst to you. 

“If you think that I’m letting you go anywhere else besides this hotel--” 

“--Bee?” The young royal grew quieter, softer, careful even. His hand cascaded from your arm down to your waist where he tentatively went to grab at your hip and squeeze lightly there. 

While your first reaction was to swat him away, your second crept up on you unexpectedly, and swelled with a kind of confused euphoria feeling the pressure of him on your body. You let his hand linger there, thumb pressed into your hipbone. 

“You don’t need that dress to be beautiful.” 

His words snapped you back; sickly sweet, and sticky in your chest. You cast his hand off of you. 

“You’re crossing the line, your Highness. Don’t...don’t touch me again.” 

The royal sighed as he rose, then inspected his face in the sizeable mirror. Each of his cuts and scars had been skillfully covered with makeup the best he could manage.  

“Bee, I’d cross multiple lines for you. I thought you knew?”    

“THIS BED IS FUCKIN’ AMAZING!!” Seungmin called from the opposite of the suite. 

The prince smiled, then followed you to the door. 

“I’ve already got enough on my hands, your Highness. I ask that you not distract me.” 

“Distract you?” 

As soon as you had said it, regret bit at the tips of your ears. You couldn’t meet his teasing glances, but rather slid one of your more discrete sidepieces into your crossbody bag--as if guns as such could be such a thing. 

“I-I...I’ll sleep on the couch.” You then resolved out loud, however the prince chuckled at your sudden break. 

“As you wish Bee.” 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

“I think that this is the best meal that I’ve ever eaten in my entire life!!” 

Seungmin kicked his legs under the table to the embarrassed glances of both Jeongin and Chan. Before you, the prince had ordered a variety of both cold and hot mezzah dishes with a couple main entrees for you to share. While he was the only one to drink, he indulged in the most expensive wine that the hotel had to offer. Granted, everything would be paid for in cash from The Agency, however the Prince swore up and down that anyone could order anything that they wanted and that The Agency would be paid back in full. You and your partners ate modestly, however the young student didn’t hold back. As the boy shoved his face, it appeared to make the prince happy to see him eating so well. 

You were still an odd group, and garnered curious glances from other restaurant guests. While they were only glances in passing, they still didn’t make you feel any better. You had already drawn enough attention to yourself with you being an odd mix of foreigners who each held themselves differently. You could sense that you partner felt it too while he sipped at his seasonal soup with eyes up to scan the room as he did so. 

Chan threw his arm behind your chair to take in the rest of the room: perfectly decorated with jade green chandeliers and perfectly symmetrical wallpaper and furnishings. It was as if he felt somehow content with your strange little group; like he was the ringleader of it all or some king of the round table. For a moment, he paused to watch the way that the boats passed by on the river from the window nearest to him and sighed. Knowing him, he was probably enjoying running for his life in this way. 

Two cleared his throat and unbuttoned his fashionable suit jacket as the waiters came to clear the table for dessert. 

“So. What are the specs for tomorrow?” 

Jeongin fiddled with his glasses, then dabbed away at the corners of his mouth. “He’s invited us to come around 11pm. He wants us to dress up too--as I’m sure you’ve all seen the clothes that have been provided for us. He apparently loves his formalities, but, anything to make him feel more comfortable I suppose. His men will meet us in the front and take us to him, then we try our best not to fuck it up.”

“--Which we won’t.” You soothed your partner. 

Seungmin perked up, “I’m coming too?” 

“How else are we going to look after ya, kid?” Two ruffled up the young man’s hair. 

“W-wait. Didn’t you say that it’s a club? Will they even let me in? I’m not like, 21 yet? I mean, I will be in a couple months--” 

“--Ahhh you’re so cute.” Chan beamed. “If you’re rolling with us that doesn’t matter.” 

Seungmin blushed and played with the condensation of his water glass. “Oh.” 

Your partner shifted in his seat. “Speaking of. Considering that you’re “one of us” now. We need to discuss something important with you. Your identity.” He looked over to you to finish the rest of the speech that had been pushed off for just a bit too long. 

“Your name...is your most valuable asset. It’s the only thing about yourself that you can keep for yourself. No one else should know it besides you...and, well, us. If they know your name, they know your family, they know where you live, where you go to school, even that girl that you had a crush on in the fourth grade. Got it?” 

Seungmin gulped dry with blown out eyes. “I-I think that I understand.” 

“What do you want us to call you from now on?” 

He paused, considering towards the ceiling. ”Well...if you’re B, and he’s F...and he’s J...I could be S? Simple enough right?” 

“S it is then.” 

The waiters arrived with every dessert possible: chocolate cake, Crème Brule, fruit cheesecake garnished with mint, as well as traditional desserts like Om Ali and Mehalabiya--a type of milk pudding dressed with delicate, pink, edible flowers. 

Seungmin--now dubbed S--made happy little eating sounds while he tried a little bit of everything. 

“Thank you.” You finally spoke to the prince, who now smelled strongly of Lotus and Jasmine. 

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind treating my friends.” 

The word hung in the air, and you didn’t quite know what to do with it. 

Friends. 

“Where is this reservation that you mentioned?” 

He took a swing from his crystal glass with finesse. “Hm. That’s for me to know and you to find out.” 

“Jeongin told me that I need to keep an eye on you, you know that? It would be best if we didn’t leave the hotel at all--” 

“--But what would be the fun in that?” The prince nearly pouted. 

From the others side of the table, Two in his aviators brushed off his lap before standing. “I’m going to get some sleep, if that’s alright with you? I’m feeling pretty jetlagged and I want to be prepared for tomorrow. Excuse me.” 

The slender man bowed to you at the table, then even deeper to the prince. 

“What was that about?” Jeongin muttered while he poked at the thin caramel layer of his French dessert. 

“Actually, I think I want to head to bed too, I’m stuffed.” Seungmin rubbed his belly in his contentment. “Also...I think I might have homework due...heh. I don’t know...I’ve got to figure out all these all these time differences and stuff.” He pushed in his chair then gave the prince a deep bow. “Thank you, your Highness.” 

“My pleasure.” Chan said with a tiny bow back. “Rest up, kid.” 

With the empty holes at the table, the silence was deafening. 

“And then there were three.” Jeongin yawned. “Bee? Wanna do some laps in the morning? I saw that they had a pool? Wanna see if you can beat my record...again?” 

“Psh. I was coming off that biochemical cocktail the last time we tired. You had an advantage.” 

“Then you’ll beat me? Hm! I look forward to that.” Your adorable partner flashed the first smile that you’d seen in a couple days. You missed it, you realized. 

“Sleep tight Bee. Goodnight your Highness.” 

“Thank you Fox.” The prince mirrored his warm smile. 

Knives and forks clinked on china in the dining room, and music softly payed the soundtrack of the evening. A low hum filled the space where the tourists and patrons chatted among themselves. It was peaceful and normal amidst everything that had been pricking your skin and plaguing worry over your mind. The prince merely sighed, sparking eyes reflecting the candles dying out on the table. 

“And now it’s just the two of us.” 

“Seems like it.” 

“Can I whisk you away now?” 

“Whisk? Who said that I would allow any whisking?” 

“Come on...Bee. Just this one time? I promise to be on my best behavior.” 

You laughed out incredulously at the comment. “You out of all people can’t promise something like that.” 

“I guess you’re right about that. But...still, I won’t try to make a scene or anything.” 

The royal placed his napkin on the table with his knife and fork respectfully tilted off the edge of his plate. 

“Follow me?” 

Chan held out his hand. It was pink with heat and scraped a little from the glass that had pierced the fragile flesh. In some way, you had felt a twinge of guilt seeing the small injury knowing that you couldn’t have protected him well enough then. You allowed him to lace your fingers with yours, and felt the rough cuts of his scars in your palm. 

You had promised to yourself that he would never know such pain again. 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

“Annnd...this is it!” 

You had taken all of twenty paces outside of the hotel when Chan gestured with open arms to the riverfront. Just at the riverbank, a steamboat was anchored with open doors for hotel guests to enter. The massive, multideck, white steamboat shone like the moon peaking at the ocean’s horizon. Each of the semi-circle windows were lined with white lights and from the inside, the delightful sound of laugher and live music spilled out to the glossy water of the Nile. 

“W-what is this?” 

“Well…it’s a dinner cruise but I just signed us up for the bar part. Are you...surprised? I thought that it must be pretty safe considering that we’re on the water and no one can drive up and shoot at us.” 

“I mean...it’s a bit closed off, but nothing that I can’t handle.” 

The prince held out his arm for you to lead the way, then took your hand to help you watch your step down the stairs. Chan provided his name to the conductor in elegant sounding Arabic, leaving you shocked. 

“Y-you speak Arabic too?” 

Chan chuckled once more, taking your hand in his to bring you down the creaking wood deck with swinging with lanterns above your heads. 

“As a royal and diplomat, it’s best for me to know how to communicate if I might need to.” 

“I must say your Highness, I am definitely impressed.” 

“What? You thought I was just another pretty face?” The charming prince escorted you to a room within the steamboat that was lined with red velvet carpets and small bar tables with tea candles and water lilies floating in a shallow dish. He pulled out your chair before his own, then settled with hands folded in his lap. “I’m trained in hand-to-hand too, although I could use a refresher; that was so long ago, back when I went to school.” 

“Hand-to-hand? Well! You really are full of surprises.” 

The prince appeared smug and faintly amused by the compliment as he crossed his legs under the table and leaned in with his dizzying floral scent. 

The waitress appeared and Chan flexed his language skills once more while he ordered a Hemmingway Daiquiri for himself and a French 75 for you. Somewhere off in the distance or perhaps a different part of the boat, louder and more excitable music played along with the echoing claps of those who listened along. Here, it was much quieter, and the loud sound was replaced with a jazz song that you had heard before--likely from your more formative years. 

“It’s a beautiful night.” Chan began, “Thank you for agreeing to do this with me. I know that I’ve been a bit forward, but, I appreciate you entertaining me.” 

“If I had said no, what would’ve happened then?” 

“Well, maybe I would’ve dropped it, but...knowing you...I don’t think that I would’ve given up easily.” 

The waitress returned with the drinks on a silver platter: his grapefruit pink and yours the color of a lemon drop. 

The royal rose his glass for you to clink with yours, “To...adventures.” 

“To adventures.” 

With a resounding sound, the glasses met, and you watched the way that the shimmering liquid ripped across the prince’s nose. 

The two of you sat for several moments more, saying nothing, but sipping and soaking in the night breeze and the humidity that made your whole body feel blanketed with a sense of calm. You had felt this way before back at the safe house, and it snuck up on you once more. Simply exisiting with the prince provided you with a sense of solace that had long since faded from your life. The sense of responsibility that you felt for the man was noticeable, but you couldn’t help but notice how he provided for you the same sense of safety that you did for him. 

Perhaps it was the loneliness of the job and the solitude that came along with it. Was that you craved to be touched? Listened to? Admired? You had distanced yourself from irrational things such as love and other feelings of attachment. In your line of work, people died often, and you had to move on just as fast as their lives had been taken from them. You supposed that you had become unfeeling at this point...but this prince, so full of himself and focused on the material...there was something about him that reminded you how to feel. 

“Bee? What are you thinking about?” He asked carefully. 

“Oh...nothing.” 

“You looked kind of lost here.” 

“Was I?” 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah...yeah. I’m fine. Maybe the drink is just...getting to me.” 

“Just one drink?” Chan giggled a bit, “I didn’t take you for being a lightweight Bee. I thought that they gave you like, drinking lessons or something back at that agency of yours.” 

“I’m fine. I shouldn’t have more than one drink anyway.” 

The prince nodded, understanding. “So, what will you tell me about yourself? Is there anything that you’re allowed to tell me? Or...will you always be this mysterious, beautiful, enigma?” 

“Me? Enigmatic? Ha! Hardly.” 

“Well? What then?” The prince sucked at the lime garnishing his glass. “Since I don’t have the pleasure of knowing your real name, I’d love it if you could tell me something.” 

Over the stereo, the muted trumpet played along with the twang of thick upright bass strings,

“I suppose I could tell you how...” Chan leaned in, “I didn’t want to join The Agency. At first.” 

“Oh? Why’s that?” 

“It felt like a bit of a last resort and anything that is a last resort is something that can’t come easy.” 

Chan titled his head as if to say, I’m listening. 

“Life...fucking sucks sometimes. Sometimes...you’re left...living with your sleazy uncle with a letter addressed to you post mortem telling you to carry on the family name if you want to feel some connection to the parents that you never knew.” 

The royal cast his eyes down, “I-I’m so sorry.” 

“The Agency has been everything I’ve known since I was a teenager. This life...it’s everything. I think in a way I feel obligated to it...since it was what took my parents from me...I owe it to them to do a job that they spent so much energy on so that it wasn’t in vain.” 

You stopped, realizing the weight of your words in the air and how they cut like the blade of the knife that you kept tucked in your waistband sheathed in a leather cover. Once the sharp metal was taken from it’s confines, there was nothing to protect those from the damage it could do. 

“Bee...I don’t know what to say besides I’m sorry. That’s terrible. I can’t imagine what it must be like to loose your parents and have been thrown into this life...no one deserves that.” 

“Its okay.” You sighed. “I did it to myself. Now, it’s of no concern. I can take care of my own, and I have a new family. I try not to look back.” 

As he had done numerous times before that night, Chan’s hand reached out for yours under the table, brushing up against the white cloth. 

“I can’t say how much I appreciate you enough for what you do; risking your life for me...I owe you everything Bee.” The prince softened, rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand. 

The chug of the steamboat hissed softly behind you in that back bar room, and just through the windows, you could see the stars dotting the sky just as they did in any corner of the world. They were a reminder that while some things changed, others didn’t. 

The echo of footsteps on the deck clicked, causing you to turn a careful glance back to the direction of the sound. The man who entered was dressed in a casual cotton button up and navy slacks. On the white of his breast, he wore a pin holding the symbol of a crest.

“Lee Minho?” Chan gasped. 

“Your Highness!” The handsome man bowed immediately with a startled little smile. 

The friendly prince stood immediately upon seeing the other royal to shake his hand. “What a coincidence that we meet again!” 

Lee Minho shied with a polite smile while fiddling with his hair that looked to be masterfully styled. “Must be...fated. Or something like that.” 

“Are you alright? Last I saw you was at the shooting at the gala. I’m so glad to see that you’re safe. You didn’t get injured I hope?” 

This close, Lee Minho had oddly cat-like eyes that were as intense as they were alluring. He was just as you had remembered him to be--put together and polished like a true royal, dastardly handsome with all the right curves to his body, and just enough mystery to him to pique the interest of anyone who had sensed his air--just as the prince had. 

“What are you doing in Cairo?” Chan asked, gesturing for the stranger to pull up a chair. 

Lee Minho swatted away the question with an annoyed cringe. “Royal stuff, you know how it goes. Everyone is always trying to poke their noses in places where they shouldn’t be...unless they’re looking to get themselves killed. That's why they send me. I’m dispensable.” 

“Oh, I’d hardly say that.” 

In seconds the prince’s entire body had shifted towards the direction of the other man, and hung onto each of his words as if they were a siren song. 

“When you’re not as high up in the ranks as you are your Highness, royalty starts to feel more like servitude than a legitimate position.” 

“So, where are you poking your nose?” 

Lee Minho’s eyes nervously flicked to you, and Chan realized that he had skipped right over introductions. 

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce the two of you. Minho, this is Bee, my--” 

“--I’m a member of his detail.” You spoke for him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you formally Lee Minho. I recall seeing you at the gala.” 

Minho bowed slightly, “It’s a pleasure to meet you too.” 

It was obvious that you had made the man uncomfortable, just as you had liked it to be. While you could see what the prince had seen in him, you had the disposition to be much less trusting than his Highness. 

“Which royals are employing you? I’d love to know! It’s always exciting for me to learn about who is plotting what. The royal drama keeps me really entertained.” 

Minho sat up straighter, then waved a hand for the waitress to come scuttling over. 

“Some of my family members. You wouldn’t know them, we’re all dreadfully insignificant to be honest. They heard all this business about those men with the red crests and they’re starting to get scared. After they targeted...you, they’re wondering which royal family might be next...if any. I’m here to find out who they are, their whereabouts, anything else.” 

“Wow! That’s actually what we--”

“--And where are you planning on getting this information if I may ask?” You hushed the prince’s loose lips as quickly as you could. 

Minho leaned in over the flickering candle to lower his tone, “I heard that there’s an informant here in the city who might now something about this group. They’ve been popping up on national news too as of late. I’m looking to talk to him tomorrow evening. Luckily, I was able to make an appointment but it was no small feat. I had to bribe him to high hell to get him to speak with me.” 

“Hm. Sounds familiar.” You mumbled. 

Chan’s eyes widened, then he looked back to you to ask for permission. You gave him a nod.

“It seems like we’re here for a common purpose my friend.” The prince leaned in to bridge the gap between them, his hand notably reaching to rest on the other man’s thigh below the table’s surface. “We’re seeking similar information and I think we might be speaking of the same informant.” 

“But your Highness, isn’t it dangerous it you to do something like this?” 

“Not when I’ve got her around.” Chan threw a sly grin to you across the table. “I’m well protected. And you? Where’s your detail?” 

“I’m afraid that I’m out here alone. Like I said, when you’re as low in the ranks as I am...” 

“What? That’s terrible!! They aren’t even protecting their own? Bee!!” 

“Yes, your Highness?” You already knew where this was going. 

“Let’s bring Minho along with us tomorrow! We know that there’s safety in numbers--” 

“Your Highness, in case you haven’t noticed, our hands are already a bit full...”

“I can fend for myself.” Lee Minho suddenly piped. “Travelling alone, I’ve picked up a few things about protecting myself. You don’t have to protect me, but, I appreciate the offer.” 

“Nonsense! You should come with us! I would feel more comfortable if you did rather than went by yourself.” 

Lee Minho gave the royal a smile in his thanks, it was pure and a little adorable you had considered...but that was likely the champagne going to your head. 

“Really? I appreciate it, your Highness.” 

While you were distanced, you nearly could’ve sworn that the prince had squeezed the other’s leg reassuringly, and you were willing to bet he had rubbed it with his thumb too just as he had done to you. 

After long, the waitress returned with Lee Minho’s drink, and the two men chatted like old college buddies while you slipped away at your drink in an attempt to make it last as long as you could. While Chan did try to engage you in conversation, it would never last for long until he would become puppy-eyed over the stranger again. In the end, you wondered if the tipsy prince would’ve also confessed to this man if he had one too many drinks. 

The table bumped with their jovial and restless legs, and you could only imagine what wandering hands sought to discover. 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

The hotel was quiet save for the click of heels on the marble floors from ladies who had just gotten off the steamboat and clung to their husbands in their drunken stupor. They cackled in the empty and golden lobby, then pressed hasty kisses into the stuttering mouths of their husbands who’s mouths then smeared with hot pick lipstick. Chan giggled at the sight while he tripped over his own feet too. 

“Ahhhh. Being in love is so cute.” He adored them once you had entered the elevator. 

“You’re not going to throw up on me, are you?” 

The prince hiccupped, then shook his head. “Unlike you I know how to hold my liquor. I’m fine. Just a bit sleepy I think. Must be the jet lag.” 

The tones for each floor beeped in the compartment, and Chan lulled his head back and forth. 

“So. Lee Minho huh?” You said, not even able to help yourself. The alcohol had brought you a bit of an edge...so you thought. 

“Lee. Minho.” He sighed out dreamily. “What do you think of him?” 

“I think I can’t trust anyone as long as I haven’t ran at least three background checks on them.” 

“Awww, Bee, you’re so thoughtful of me.” 

In the empty hallway, the prince with squinting eyes leaned against the doorframe to the royal suite, reaching out to brush up against your blouse once more. You let him, excusing his drunken state. After he did so, his eyes hazed over with something much different, while he looked exhausted, it was laced with something else: something much more longing. 

“Bee...fuck, I really want to kiss you again.” 

“Hm. That’s ripe coming from you who was just viciously flirting with Lee Minho.” 

You could see his head spinning in his dilated pupils. “What?” 

The door clicked open and you less than gracefully lead the prince through the dark to your shared bedroom. 

“B-Bee, what are you talking about?” 

You scoffed, “I’m not blind, you know.” 

“A-are you...jealous?” 

“W-what? Fuck no. I’m just...you can’t just...toss people around thinking that they’ll all bend to you.” 

Chan sat at the edge of the bed and rubbed at his temples when you turned one of the lamps on. 

“I-I was doing that?” 

You tore a pillow from the bed as well as the throw blanket at the end. “I’m sleeping on the couch. Good evening, your Highness.” 

“Wait! Bee!” The young prince stumbled after you, stubbing his toe against the bedpost in the process. “Ah-FUCK!” He grunted. 

“What?” You growled back to him, half shrouded in the darkness of the suite living room. 

The royal stumbled out, eyes blank and backlit from the bedroom. While you couldn’t see him fully, you later could assume that there was something in him terribly torn and ripped in that moment that made little sense to him, as it did to you to. 

Arms reached out, bodies softly illuminated by the lights of the city, and the prince leaned himself fully into you, pressing bitter tasting lips to yours with a heat and desire that only seemed amplified the breather he had gotten. While he tasted of lime and grapefruits, with a twinge of alcohol. He was just as addictive as any vice. You wanted to feel him. As infuriating as he was, and oblivious, your abhorrence to him was just as strong as your attraction. 

“Mm, Bee--” He moaned directly into your mouth while shuffling both of you back to the bedroom. 

The prince’s trembling breath floated from his mouth to yours where he used both of his large hands to pull your face closer to his. You knew that in some way, there must have been something ingenuine about the whole scenario, but you didn’t care too much, not when kissing him felt like something. Maybe he had kissed you out of pity, or because he really had wanted to kiss you. You broke for seconds before both of your tangled limbs hit the bed. 

“Before...you said that you wouldn’t kiss me.” 

“I didn’t make any promises...but, how come...you said that you wouldn’t hesitate...? But you kissed ba--” 

You silenced the prince’s words with your own heated kisses that made little sense, only that kissing him as such felt good. You straddled the man while his hungry fingers traced all the way down your back. The prince’s hips sunk into the cushiony mattress, and you screwed him down even harder into it with your own heated hips grinding into him with as much pressure as you could muster. 

“This is what you want, right?” You pulled at his lip with your teeth to hear him groan from it. 

“Is it...what you want?” Chan got out between more kisses. 

You could blame it on loneliness or lack of touch all that you wanted, but it wasn’t even close. 

“Wait. Wait.” Chan suddenly interjected. 

“What? What is it?” 

The prince looked up at you, that haze in his eyes now fading to something much different that wasn’t covered in the lust that he held before. 

“Bee...I-I don’t know if I want it to happen this way. It feels...it’s not...” 

“Not what?” 

He brushed his hand upward now to caress your face, lingering on the side of the peach fuzz on your cheek. “You deserve better than whatever the hell this is.” 

“Oh, so when I finally want to fuck you, you’re saying it isn’t right?” 

“I’m saying, I’m drunk, it’s late, clearly there’s something that’s upsetting you, and I want to know what it is before we do anything else. Tell me, what’s wrong?”

It might’ve been Lee fucking Minho, or it might’ve been something else much stickier for you to admit, but seeing the prince like this, it was too much. He was gorgeous under you, practically angelic looking. 

“I-I’m...complicating things.” You whispered out, and the prince softened even further. 

“That’s what it is? Bee, I told that you don’t have to worry about--” 

“--Yes. Yes I do...your Highness. I-I can’t feel...” 

“Bee--let’s just talk about--” 

The prince might’ve said more, but his words faded into murmurs once you closed his door behind you, then crawled onto the couch in Jeongin and Seungmin’s room, locking their door too. 

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses!

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @eunaeiekim @lunarskzzz

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[slythraco]

Requests: 1) I love your imagines! Can I get one where the reader is due with their first born and she goes into labor and gives birth with Tom by her side? And could it have super fluff? Thanks! ( @dracomalfoyswifey )

2)  Please could you do one where you and Tom are on live showing off your newborn and it’s all fluffy and cuddly :) (Anon)

3)  Hi could you please do a Tom Felton x reader where they had their baby boy (You can choose the name) and it’s their first night home with him and Tom comforts his son after he hears him cry from his nursery? Your work is so good! Thx so much! ( @itcastimagines )

-----

Author’s note: First of all, thank you for your request ! And secondly, I kinda considered this imagine as the next part of Baby bump so that hesitate to go read it before this one ! (It’s not mandatory tho) Also, as you can see I combined these three requests because of their similar themes and also because when I received the second i was already planning on writing the birth part for the first one so yeah it makes it easier for me to combined them ! I hope you don’t mind it and you will still like it ! Have fun reading ! ❤️

Warnings: Swears ? That’s all I think

Words count: 2,8K

Masterlist

—————-

You were casually watching a movie, your head resting on Tom’s shoulder, his arm over yours while his hand drawing little random shapes on the skin of your arm. It was calm and relaxing as you felt yourself falling asleep against the love of your life.

But you baby decided otherwise, or rather your uterus who decided to contract, throwing a pain in your belly, a contraction. You frown as Tom feel you tense on him, immediately understand what was going on. “It’s okay love...take a deep breath.” He whispers while he grabs your hand and give it a soft squeeze. You listen to him and take a deep breath trough your nostrils and slowly blowing through your mouth the next second. “Perfect, once again, with me.” You repeat the process but he does it with you this time, you smile when the pain slowly fade away.

“You should really consider a career as a midwife !” You tease, making him giggle. “I will consider it !” He responds. “By the way, I learned somewhere a good way to reduce the contraction !” You raise your eyebrows, looking at him. “Tell me all about it !”

“A bath !” He said happily, you frown, a little suspicious. “I know, I know, It’s sound too good to be true but it actually work ! I’m gonna prepare one for you right now by the way.” He says before putting a quick kiss on your cheek and then get up, leaving you all alone in front of the movie. You could help but smile as you hear him in the bathroom, Tom was really looking after you, always making sure you were okay. But it also break your heart to see him so worried about you all the time even if it’s the cutest thing ever.

After a few minutes of waiting, Tom comes back to you and holds out his hand to you to help you getting up. You catch it and get up slowly due to the size of your tummy. He helps you walking and as soon as you see the bathroom you starts to smile widely. He filled the bathtub with water and foam, a few rose petals resting on top of the water. “You like it ?” He asked as his arms make their way around waist. “I love it Tom ! You’re truly the best !” Your boyfriend smile while he put a gently kiss on your shoulder. “Can I ask you one last thing before I jump in this bath ?”

“Anything love !” He whispers. “You should maybe prepare the bags, just in case...” he puts his chin on your shoulder to look at you. “I’ll do that !” He kisses gently your neck, making you shiver in less then a second. “Now, go take your bath before i put you in it myself !” You nod as here’s you go. “I wouldn’t mind it.” You tease while he rolls his eyes. “Si sad you asked me to prepare the bags” He raises his shoulders before leaving you in the bathroom. You take a second to look at you in the mirror once you removed all of your clothes.

Your hands gently slide to your big belly holding your baby. You smiles, thinking about it, you will meet him soon, you couldn’t wait to meet him, see his little face. You take a deep breath as you finally enter the hot water.

•••

Tom wasn’t lying, this bath did a lot of good. It helped you relax a little, the stress of the arrival of the baby had taken over you whole body since a few weeks so it was really pleasant to take a moment for yourself for once in a while.

You stepped out of the bathtub and grab the towel Tom prepared for you on the sink, you surround your body with it and get out of the bathroom to grab some new clothes. You open your closet and pull a legging to be as comfortable as possible when you suddenly feel water surrounding your feet. For a second you thought it was just the water form you wet body who rolled to the the floor but when you look at it, you discover a whole puddle, definitely too much.

It takes you a few seconds to understand what’s going on, until you realise and call your boyfriend. “Tom ! Tom come here !” Tom who was already panicking when he heard you scream, rush to join you in you room. “What love ? Something’s wrong ?” He walks towards you, a worried look and his face. “We need to go to the hospital right now !” He doesn’t let you finish. “W-why ? Are you alright ?” He asks in panic. “Yes Tom, my water just broke, the baby is coming !”

Your boyfriend’s eyes widen at you revelations before he starts looking everywhere around him. “Okay...fuck fuck fuck.” You giggle as she see him so panicked. “The bags Tom...” You suggested to help him think. “Yes ! The bags !” He quickly puts a kiss on your cheek before running out of the from to grab the bags he prepared during your bath.

On your side you grab a bathrobe to cover your body, knowing you didn’t had time to get fully dressed. Tom comes back to you with the bags resting on his shoulders. “Ready ?” He asks before you nod. “Yes, let’s go !”

•••

Tom and you were there for a few hours now, you just got sens into labour ward, the baby was urging to come out of there. You could tell it by the contractions who were more and more regular. It broke Tom’s heart to see you in pain like that, talking about contractions you felt one right. You squeeze Tom’s hand who was holding yours and he directly understood.

He gently puts his hand over your forehead and starts rubbing your skin softly with the tip of his fingers. “It’s okay love...just breathe.” Easier said than done as Tom grimaces at the view of you suffering. After a few seconds who felt like ages, you finally feel it disappears for the next 5 minutes. “I won't survive childbirth if I'm already in so much pain from a contraction....” You complained, letting a nervous giggle escapes your lips. “You can always ask for an epidural, I don’t like seeing you like that.” You gently nods as you smile slowly, Tom was probably suffering more than you.

“Okay...I’ll do it.” Tom smiles and puts a gentle kiss on you forehead as he gets up. “I’ll call the midwife, don’t move !” You roll your eyes at his last words. “Like I could !” She tease before Tom leaves the room to find someone to give you that epidural.

•••

“Alright Miss Y/L/N, I have good news ! You’re finally going to be able to give birth !” The midwife announced, making Ton who was sitting besides you gasp in happiness. “That’s it darling ! We’re finally going to meet him !” He said all excited as he puts a loving kiss on your forehead before a doctor ask him to put on a security jumpsuit for a good hygiene during the process. “You look sexy with that hairnet !” You tease, Tom gives you a deadly gaze. “I don’t think it’s really the right time to make jokes Y/N !” He says in a giggle as he gets back to you, taking your hand.

He could see the nervousness on your face. “Hey...don’t worry, everything is gonna be okay, i’lol stay with you the whole time.” You gently nods as you squeeze his hand in yours.

Another midwife joined the room to help everyone preparing everything before she comes to you and explain you how this Is going to happen. “Okay, i know this is scary, you’re not the only one I promise !” She reassured you. “You’ll see, It’s easier then it’s seems, you basically take a deep breath, and then you blow it as you push as hard and as long as you can. Then we take a little pause for you to catch you catch your breath and when you’re ready we do it again ! That’s it !” She explains.

“There’s nothing to be worried about, you’re safe, the baby’s safe too, you are not alone, your companion is with you and I am sure he will stay by your side until you get there. And you will. ” You turn your head to look at Tom, he smiles at you to comfort you.

After a few minutes of waiting, everything was in place, the midwife posted between your legs to receive the baby. “Okay, are you ready ?” The midwife asked to you. You nods shyly, definitely scared but also excited to finally come to and end with this pregnancy. “Perfect, like a explain to you, take a deep breath.” You listen to her and take as much air as you can. “And now, push !” You squeezes Tom’s hands so strongly you thought you’d break some of his bones as you push to your belly as hard as you can.

You took a moment after a few pushes to catch your breath. “You’re doing amazing sweetheart.” Said Tom in the crook of your ear. “Keep going Miss, i can see his head !” The midwife shouted. “Hey you hear that ! He’s almost there !” Tom shouted at his turn, all excited. “I’m so proud of you !” He said against your skin as he kisses your forehead.

You push one last time as strong as possible, when you finally see the little baby resting on your chest while the midwifes run him with a towel to clean him. You can’t help but fall in tears when you immediately see him, as well as Tom who as his head right next to yours to look at his beautiful face.

“Hi baby !” Tom said with a childish voice as he puts his thumb on his cheek to caress it as gently as possible.

•••

You were laying in your hospital bed right beside your baby’s. Since his birth, everyone wanted to see his cute little face so you were always visited by your friends and family which made your exhausted to say the least. You were happy to finally have some rest after these crazy few days.

Tom was leaning over his son’s bed, he’s completely in love with him, he couldn’t stop looking at him which warmed your heart. You slowly get up to join him, you delicately put your hand on his shoulder as he play with the baby’s hands. “Look how little his hands are !” He said, amazed. “I know...he’s so adorable”

“And he has your eyes...” You say as you smile softly, it was the truth, he had the beautiful blue eyes of his father. No doubts he’s going to be a lady-killer with those If his eyes colour don’t change of course. Tom straighten to slide his arms around your waist and put his chin on your shoulder. “Should we show the world how handsome our son is ?” He said in a whisper in the crook of your ear. “Yes, why not ! They’re gonna fall in love with him you know that right ?”

“That’s the whole point darling.” He said in a giggle before putting a quick kiss on your cheek as he take his phone in his hand. He than start the live and holds it in the air to show your face in it too. “Hi everyone !” He waves happily like you do too. “We’re on direct from the hospital !” You added, smiling at the phone’s camera.

The live just started and the comments were already all about you new-born son. “We want to see hiiiim 🥺”

“Are you gonna show him ?”

You look at Tom but he was already look in at you, you giggle slightly. “Should we show them ?” You asked, already knowing the answer but you wanted to tease the fans a little bit. “I don’t know, do you guys want to see him ?”

You laugh at what he asks. “Are you really asking ? We already know the answer Tom !” The fans confirmed what you say by a bunch of ‘yes’ appearing on the screen. “Okay, okay.” He turns the camera angle and the little boy appears on the live.

“I present to you, Arthur Felton !” He says all excited, you heart warms at what you see. “Isn’t he so cute ?”. You gently put your hand on Tom’s back to rub it softly while he marvels at his little boy. “He’s sleeping, this is all he does during the day, like mother like son !” He says to tease you. “Hey ! I have just given birth ! I have the right to get some sleep, don't I ?” You shouted, falsely shocked by what he said. “Of course love, I’m just kidding.” He resounded softly before kissing your temple.

After a few minutes of filming and answering questions, le little baby starts to wake up. “Hello baby !” Tom says smiling with his childish voice again, making your heart melt. But the cries of the baby makes him change his beautiful smile into a worried gaze. “Don’t worry Tom, he’s probably hungry !” You said to reassure your boyfriend. “Wanna give him the bottle ?”

“Yes ! Absolutely !” He said in an excited way. You kiss his cheek rapidly after you nods then you go prepare the baby bottle for him. In the meantime, Tom put the phone on the table face the hospital bed to let people see this adorable moment before he gently takes his son in his arms like it was the most fragile thing in the world which was at his eyes.

he gently cradles him in his arms in an attempt to calm his tears, but nothing helps. He lays in the bed and wait for you to come to him with the meal for Arthur. So after a few minutes you finally join Tom and you hand him the bottle. “Thanks love.” He says in a murmur as he starts giving his son the bottle. You put your chin on his shoulder to look at the baby eating.Tom couldn’t stop smiling, it wasn’t the first time he was feeding a baby of course but it was obviously different since it was his child this time.

“From now on I want to be the only one to bottle-feed him.” Tom shouted as you giggle. “Are you sure what you're getting into here ?” You tease. “More than sure !” He says before looking at you, your eyes then meet each other before you gently kiss his lips quickly.

•••

“He’s finally sleeping !” You shouted as you come back to your bedroom. You three came back from the hospital today, it’s Arthur first night at the house. You were glad to retrieve your comfortable bed, so does Tom who was mostly sleep in the couch next to you because there wasn’t enough space in the hospital bed.

The last few days have been really exhausting for you both of you, and you knew it was only the beginning. But it was more than worth it, not everyone has the chance to have a baby so you were more than grateful to have your son. “Come here.” Tom whispers as he opens his arms to you in the bed, you smile before leaning into his embrace. Laying you head on his chest as he puts a kiss on your scalp. “We should sleep before he wakes up.” You murmurs. “Well, good nap then !” He says in a chuckle, knowing well you two won’t sleep a lot.

And he was right, a few hours later, the babyphone resonate in the room, you sigh as you open your eyes and begin to turn in the bed to get up but a hand on your wrist stop your movements. “Go to sleep love, it’s my turn.” Tom said in his little raucous voice due to the sudden awakening. You gently nods as you collide your eyes again while you feel him getting up.

A few instant later, Tom arrives in the nursery. “Ssshhhht” He whispers as he takes Arthur in his arms to gently cradles him to try to calm him down. Seeing that it didn’t really work he starts to sing a song in a murmur. And it seems to work really well, the little baby stops to cry to listen to the voice of his father.

On your side, after a few minutes you weren’t hearing the baby cry but the voice of your boyfriend singing. A little smile appears on your face as you feel the urge to see it. So you quickly get up and join the nursery to see Tom walking around the room, holding the baby in his hand as his sings a lullaby. It was adorable to see.

Tom stops finally to sing when he sees the baby is asleep again, he then lay him in his bed again before turning to the door and it’s when he sees you on the doorstep. His eyes rolls as he walks towards you. “What don’t you understand in ‘go to sleep’” he says in a chuckle. “Sorry...I heard you singing, I wanted to see it !” You whisper to not wake the baby up. “Unbelievable...” he sighs. “On the other hand, it took me almost an hour to get him to sleep earlier and then you did it in what ? 5 minutes ? That's not fair !” She shouted with a pounding face which makes Tom giggle. “I know...I know...he’s a daddy’s boy and you’ll have to accept it !” He teases as he grabs your head into his hands. “Don’t brag too much !” You said falsely annoyed. He laughs before kissing your lips softly. “Come on, let’s go to sleep before he wakes up !” He grabs your hand and pulls you to your bedroom again to not lose a second of sleeping, these are precious !

#TOM #Tom Felton #tom felton imagine #tom felton one shot #tom felton x reader #tom felton fluff #tom felton request

[nakedmossy]

Cruel Summer - Part 1 [JJ x Reader]

[A/N: Hi again. I've missed you. It was time for something new. I found this story in a dream. Prepare for a mental trip, it's indicative of the year i've had. This is gonna go in a million different directions and I can't say i'm surprised. Ive written two chapters and i'm already like ...well, fuck it i'm posting it...I needed to get back into writing and this is what I got so enjoy. I have a playlist I used while writing, comment if you want it shared. As always, not that any of us need the reminder....but there will be adult content (whatever that means) and language and NSFW content so...keep me off your screen at the dinner table. Love y'all ...Mossy x]

You ease your car into park, your hand resting on the gear shift, the tires slowly rocking back and forth on the soft ground as the engine dies. Sunlight streams through your windshield as a cloud of dust and sand settles around the car, and you feel a trapped breath release from deep in your chest. The quiet, melodic hum of music relaxes your shoulders and through the trees you can see the water rhythmically hitting the shore.

You haven’t been here in a few weeks and you're starting to feel it; the tight and uncomfortable tensing in your muscles, the locked jaw, the flat expressions. The closer it gets to the anniversary the more you feel the need to visit. But the frequency of your visits is dictated by Her, and She keeps tabs on your whereabouts a lot these days. ‘Its not healthy to spend so much time there’ She would say to you, while pulling a Valium out of her bag to slide towards you. She has your therapist on speed dial on the landline. And she blames you for living in the past. Ironic.

You pull your keys out of the ignition, unbuckle your seatbelt, and let your muscle memory guide you out of the car and through the trees to the edge of the embankment where the sand and the sea grass take over. Flashes of Lacey running down the beach in front of you, looking back over her shoulder and laughing, are burned into your eyelids when you blink. She was everywhere here, every corner of this beach belonged to her. Her towel spread out on the sand at your feet, books with water damaged pages scattered across it, her bag tossed lazily to the side. Her board perched against the log you used to dry out your wetsuits. Her camera.

You close your eyes and listen to the wind move through the grass, her laugh echoing off the rocks. Come on! She would laugh with an outstretched arm. Come take a picture with me.

Her lips were supple and her nose was sun kissed, her hair bleached and tousled from the saltwater. She would motion for you to come over and you would go, because you always did, to fit into the frame next to her, cramming yourself in wherever you could after she found her best angle. She would hold up the camera and wrap her arm around you tightly, the smell of her tanning oil and sweat floating around you in a heady cloud, and at the last moment she would press her lips to your cheek and whisper cheese.

You blink and look at the water again, a seagull squawking as it flies over the empty beach. Reaching into your jeans pocket and feeling for the photo, you pull it out and look down, the moment she clicked the button frozen in time on the paper in your hand. Her side profile was radiant, the wind blowing her hair around her lips which were pressed to your face, you looked straight at the camera with a shy smile, a hidden smile, a quiet smile. An honest smile.

You run your thumb across the picture reflexively before sighing and putting the picture back in your pocket, it was one of the last photos you had together and it was one of the only ones you could clearly make out your own face. That always bothered you. Now you’ll never forget how happy we were today. I love you. She shook the polaroid until it was developed, then pressed it into your chest and winked, waiting for you to grab ahold of it, before turning on her heal and running towards the water.

Your chest burns for a moment before you straighten up and set your jaw. You feel good today, closer to her than usual. Today might be the day. You follow the path through the dunes towards the water and concentrate on the tide, watching the foam and the water snake along the shoreline. It’s windy, but not as windy as it usually is this time of day. The sky, clear and clean of any clouds, is the colour of blue that reminds you what happiness is. Or was, you know, before all the shit happened. When life was something you had the ability to process, sometimes even enjoy.

Now or never. Your head whips up at the sound of her voice and you see her, standing in the water. You feel the blood rush to your face, your core warming. There she is, running a hand up her stomach towards her chest and smiling at you, the kind of smile that would get good people into bad situations.

Slowly you slide your sneakers off and kick them aside, wiggling the sand between your toes. You’re not wearing a bikini but the beach is empty, so you close your eyes and listen to Lacey laughing from the water, come on scaredy cat, nobodies looking, as you peel your top off and drop it into the sand beside your shoes. You unbutton your shorts next and let them slide down your legs, stepping out of them hesitantly.

Lacey walks out of the water, so you keep your eyes closed, knowing if you open them she will be gone, and you wait for her to bite her lip and smile at you. There. Look at your body. You’re beautiful. Come on. She guides you towards the water with nothing but her own bare skin and confidence, nothing could ever touch her. You know its only a few steps until your feet are in the water, you should open your eyes and look around to make sure nobody is watching, but you don’t get to see her often anymore between the Valium and the other stuff, so you forgo it for a few more seconds. Today is the day, you have to do it. Time is running out. She’s all but told you as much.

“I miss you” You say, but your voice sounds foreign and it breaks and scatters into the wind.

Im right here. Lacey smiles at you like she always did, her crooked dimpled grin, her perfectly straight white teeth, her eyes shining. Now shut up and get in the water.

You feel the warm dry sand turn to wet firm sand beneath your feet, you know you’re close. It’s ours, all of it. The water. Just let go and let the Ocean carry you. You’re weightless. Isn’t it perfect?

Your breathing is shallow and your palms are clammy. There’s a tingling sensation in your thighs and you feel dizzy. You have to open your eyes. No, don’t. Not yet. Stay with me.

The water touches your toes and your eyes shoot open, you recoil and lose your footing, falling backwards. You crab crawl away from the water until the tide retreats and you feel your vision tunnelling as Lacey fades into the sunbeam above the water.

You scramble back to your clothes and pull your shorts above your sand stained underwear, your shirt smoothing your hair down as it settles back over your shoulders. You take a few deep breaths until your heart rate slows down. A tear springs up and sits in your eye for a few moments before falling and drying on your cheek. The beach is the best place to cry. The ocean is loud so nobody hears you, and the sun is hot so the tears dry fast.

You don’t want to turn around and look back at the water, you know she won’t be there. You’re alone, properly alone, just like she said you would be, psychic bitch. If she hadn’t been so charismatic and beautiful and conveniently wealthy, people would have outcasted her for being a freak a long time ago. What with all the tealeaves and palm readings and ‘gut feelings’. But they never did, her family had more money than the Kennedys and she looked like she walked runways for fun on the weekends, so she was untouchable. Your stomach starts to turn as you think about it so you blink the ground in front of you back into focus and start walking.

You have a few minutes of freedom left before She starts calling and asking where you are, so you walk slow to savour it. Who knows when you would be allowed out long enough again to go back.

You emerge from the tree cover into the parking area, pondering how many different routes you can take to get home to elongate the drive, when you hear a car door close. You look up, pulled from your thoughts, and squint to see through the bright sun.

“‘Scuse me!” A voice says, deep and friendly. A silhouette is moving towards you, so you bring your hand up to block the sun from your eyes. “Hey, sorry, do you live around here?”

You blink a few times as the silhouette gets closer and make out the figure of a tall man with wispy hair and baggy shorts.

“Sorry?” You reply, still trying to get a clear image.

“Im just trying to find the Marina but I have taken at least 5 of these side roads and all I keep finding is empty damn parking lots.” The man stops a few feet from you, close enough that you can make out a tan face with a toothy grin, and blonde hair. “First one with a pretty girl though, so I must be going the right way.” He smiles at you confidently, shielding his own eyes from the sun, but still squinting.

You look back over your shoulder to the beach, confirming Lacey is gone. You turn and look at the man who is watching you intently, hopefully, and smile quietly.

“Yeah, it’s uh…its just back on the main road, go 3 clicks south and take a right at the fork. You’ll see a fancy sign for a beach club, it’s just past that.” You look past him to the old Ford truck with rusted wheel wells and smile to yourself. “Assuming you’re not going to the beach club.”

The man laughs and smiles, looking over your shoulder at the beach before his eyes settle back on you. “Nope. Never been to one of those…legally.” He winks and backs up a few steps, then nods and says “Thanks” before turning and walking back towards his truck. He slows as he reaches it and stops, then turns back and pivots before jogging back to you.

You wait and watch, curious. He stops a few steps away and stretches out his hand.

“Sorry. That was rude of me. Im JJ.”

#jj maybank #jj x reader #rudy pankow #obx fanfiction #obxedit #nakedmossywrites #cruel summer

[border-spam]

Leech Lord - Nobody loves me like you

It was so late it felt like time itself had passed out, that void somewhere in the AM between being tired enough to fall asleep where you stand and feeling the nervous energy of dawn approaching.

The air in the Mechanicum was crisp with night chill when the E-Dev in her pocket vibrated, and Saint Ur-Machina's heart sunk in her chest as she grimaced under her welding mask. No need to check who it was, she'd known before he'd even sent the message.

The God-King was angry.

She sighed, rubbing oily hands into oilier overalls, and frowned at how pointless a gesture trying to clean them had been at all, picking bits of filth out from under her nails as she leaned against the rough wall of the hangar. Pointless maybe, but a distraction, and Seifa needed one of those right now.

The God-King was angry with himself, and that meant the people he cared about the most would take the rage.

The workfloor clock read 3:56AM where it hung from the rafter above her station, clunky ticking echoing across the empty bay. No one but her still working, and she shouldn't really have been there either considering the hour, but that had stopped feeling like it mattered a long time ago. She was always there now. Always working, like she haunted the place. Funny, she used to be so good about managing her time...

The welding mask threw a cloud of sawdust as it bounced across the floor towards the machine she'd kicked it at. She didn't even know what to call the horrible thing that loomed in front of her, some juggernaut of sleek metal she'd been ordered to run performance checks on, jagged lines illuminated by the sickly floor lamps she'd arranged around its skeleton.

Warmachines. Unnamed projects with stacks of paperwork marking them as highly classified, Troy's insignia and the same word she kept seeing over and over in confidential documentation - Uroboros. Tasted like a bad idea, reeked of poor decisions, and she'd always sniffed those out like a Skag.

What the hell did Seifa A'Rosk know about warmachines anyway? They used to build Technicals here, outriders. COV custom Cyclones for stream events, this wasn't what she signed up for, none of it was. Managing the engineering crew should never have shifted into whatever the fuck THIS was.

The steel monster in front of her bled oil silently into the sawdust, refusing to give an answer. Whatever this was, it was for Gods and Sirens, and that was a world she wasn't part of, not really. She wasn't a Saint, she was just a ghost, caught repeating the same mistakes over and over till she faded away.

The E-Dev in her pocket vibrated again, and she tapped the back of her head against the plate steel wall, trying to convince herself she wasn't ready to vomit as she squinted up towards the hangar's ceiling, lost to the night murk the lights around her couldn't quite cut through.

She figured she should answer, making him wait was just going to make this worse.

Jak-Knife had already warned her, a curt ping earlier today to "sstay ou t of his way it s bad seiifa". Ven too when he'd dropped by in the afternoon with the excuse of worrying about if she'd eaten yet and half a bag of something spicy and dripping in grease. He'd said the Cathedral staff were noose tight and whispering nervously about an incident a few hours before, something had gone wrong in a talk with visiting sponsors - with the twins. Word on the rumour mill was it had nearly turned vicious, the suits looking ready to brick themselves as they'd all but ran through the meeting room's doors after Troy had flung them open hard enough to unhinge one, and according to priests who'd been on hand? Tyreen had really embarrassed him.

Sei had winced as Ven explained, both painfully aware of this behaviour pattern and what it meant for everyone he was close to. Why the God Queen had been going out of her way to put her brother down in front of high-value clients recently was impossible to guess - no one could really get into her head or understand her decisions lately, but this wasn't the first time, and if anything it was getting worse. Little insults. Little knife-sharp jokes that weren't jokes at all, and mockeries masked behind a paper thin smile like it made them less deadly. She'd imply he was a burden, or undermine his expertise in ways so cleverly worded that the officials would have no choice but to laugh awkwardly as Troy seethed while his twin continued with negotiations.

Today she'd apparently told him to make himself actually useful and fetch their guests some drinks, right in front of servant crew and moments after he'd finished a grueling breakdown of growth projections and profit expectations for this quarter to a rapt audience. It's hard to tell if him snapping had actually surprised her or had been exactly what she wanted, but the staff who'd been there were terrified, and insisted the Vault Mother had looked genuinely shocked when the desk he threw had missed her head by barely a few inches.

He'd stalked out of the meeting and vanished into the upper cloister, and now it was the middle of the night and her E-Dev pinged for a third time.

She closed her eyes and tried to breathe out the fear coiling through her ribs in a shaky exhale. She knew exactly what was happening, it was the same as always with him. Enraged, dripping with self-loathing, and lost somewhere in that toxic mood somewhere between vicious and pitiful - looking for something to hurt, looking for a way to vent the pain as he paced like a snarling monster, muttering like he was arguing something with himself, a back and forth of accusations and desperate apologies to something no one else could see.

Tyreen couldn't eat him alive with her powers but she could do it with her words... and maybe that's what had changed. Maybe she'd realised a new way to control her twin with manipulations that left him so emasculated and damaged in confidence that he wanted to tear something he loved apart just so he could turn the hatred on himself after.

Of course it was going to be her.

The same dance every time now, the same frustrating steps that she'd memorised by this point, trying to break him out of his deadly spiral as he'd rant at rave at her, till he'd attack her somehow, then skulk into the shadows when he was done foaming at the mouth, leaving her to carry everything he'd piled onto her shoulders - the threats, the hate, the aggression, only to beg for her forgiveness the next day and be ignored.

He'd spend a week desperately apologising, showing how much he understood how pathetically wrong what he had done had been, sending ridiculous gifts to the mechanicum where he knew they'd have to be accepted under his sigil, reassure over and over in messages that it wouldn't happen again, that he'd just been under so much pressure, that he'd just snapped, that it wasn't right and she hadn't deserved it and how much her friendship mattered.

The E-Dev pinged one last time, and Seifa straightened, dusting off her overalls and adjusting the toolbelt slung around her waist.

God-King Calypso demanded a sacrifice - self harm masked as a blade he'd lash at someone he loved so it would cut him all the deeper. She'd take it, better her than someone else. She could handle him. 

She always had.

It was raining again, felt like that hadn't stopped at all this month. Pandora had wet seasons, it's just that the water never seemed to go anywhere. The acrid dust absorbed it almost as fast as it could fall, but in the city it flooded the streets as it rushed down gutters. Neon light reflected from gaudy signs in pools of colour that swam across the uneven paving stones as she slowly made her way towards the Cathedral, a waterproof canvas thrown around her shoulders protecting from the downpour.

Even at this time of night, the city was still alive. It never really stilled anymore, too many deals going down in alleys and money changing hands in clubs for it to ever actually sleep, and as she picked her way past huddled locals far too engrossed in their own business to pay her any mind, Seifa wondered when it was things had changed like this.

This place had been a shanty town, hadn't it? When she'd arrived to take over the engineering division there had been maybe one, two thousand COV followers camped around the cathedral in rickety shelters. Bandits mostly, erecting camps and functional living quarters with expertise alien to any outsider. It was a city now, fuck, it was a metropolis. She'd overseen the building of half of the major apartment systems in the inner ring around the holy quarter, so how did it still feel like it had grown of out nowhere?

Sei huffed out a steamy breath into the chill night air as the cathedral began to come into view, bass music and laughter fading as it was swallowed into the drumming of the rain on the buildings she left behind her.

She used to be so proud when she saw it, the awesome majesty of its twisted spires and jutting angles framed against the rocky outcrop that loomed behind it. Nowadays it just looked like something grotesque, a mirror of what it contained maybe. The COV was rotting from within, and everyone knew the source.

She'd been warned by friends more willing to face the harsh realities of the twin's decline that time was running out.

Tonight, tomorrow, a week from now, it didn't matter why it was going to happen, just that it would, and as much as she hated admitting it to anyone, Seifa knew she wasn't strong enough to do this much longer.

He was killing her.

Anything could set him off now, it was constant. Numbers under-performing this week, an underhanded comment from Tyreen that tipped the balance, not enough sleep, too many stims, not gaining weight, an article mocking his appearance, anything. It could have been any of them he had summoned, her, Ven, JK, the why or who was inconsequential because the desired outcome was always the same.

Troy wanted to hurt himself, not them, but he didn’t know how. The pressure would build and build till he broke down, lost logic, went wild-eyed and shaking in barely controlled rage. He hated being Troy Calypso so much there were times he wanted to tear his own skin off, he'd told her as much on nights alone and open in shared sadness, but there was no escape. It was this, or starving in a manner she couldn’t even comprehend, and when he'd asked before if maybe that would be the better option?

...She'd not known what to say. She'd failed him then, tripping over the words catching in her lungs as he desperately waited for an answer that would make sense of things, and she'd never been able to give one. Just sat next to him as they both sank deeper into the trap of their titles and the horrible reality that there was no clear way out.

He was waiting in the throne room for her, just like she'd imagined. Pacing back and forth across the dias as the city light streamed through the stained glass windows, glinting sharply off the rattling gold spines his ritual gear was decorated with as he moved.

She'd stood in silence, watching, trying to catch what he was asking himself as he'd snap a muttered retort in spite, but not able to ever make out the questions. Like an animal snared in gilded chains she figured, or something else maybe - an idol pretending to be something living? A shiver had ran through her as she waited for him to turn his frantic attention to her, quietly waiting for the blow to come. No one had even been there to greet her or open the doors to the throne room, they were ajar, the staff knowing better than to risk being in his presence when he was like this... she smirked, knowing better than her, anyway.

He'd shifted attention to her so smoothly it felt like the rant he'd been hissing to himself just continued directly into her as he'd turned, beckoning her closer with a quirk of those horrible claws. She'd bit her lip and swallowed down how much that enraged her, being summoned like a fucking dog when this man so often made clear he viewed himself as dirt in comparison to her, but months of dealing with him had tempered the reaction. Easier to go along with it, placate him, nod and let him vent out the bile till he realised how much of a fucking asshole he was and came crawling back later.

It was the same dance as usual, the exact same steps. She could feel where he was going with each shift in direction, jumping topic to topic in an attempt to place blame and becoming more enraged with each simple refute she could offer. She never made it easy, that wasn't her nature in the end, she'd calmly reply back to each accusation with logic that left him shaking harder as the fury built, like a caged predator or roid-mad Psycho desperate to attack but not getting the opening. She could play this game for hours, long enough to make sure he worked for the satisfaction, even if it left her exhausted.

She'd always been petty, after all.

He threw snarled jabs at Mechanicum performance, raised complaints that she knew weren't true, accused "concerns" about output she could disarm easily, the same as always, till suddenly he shifted.. and everything went wrong.

She could handle him with spines raised and teeth bared, she could stand unflinching as he aimed blows that he never really landed, but she hadn't been prepared for him to suddenly relax. He'd stood straight, rolling the weight of the prosthetic on a shoulder all casual and friendly like suddenly he wasn't seething under the grin his snarl melted into, and she'd felt a jolt of fear. This was something new, this was something... worse, she could feel it like electricity crackling up her spine, and for the first time that night her heart began to pick up a stuttered pounding as cool sweat beaded down her back. He took a step closer, and for just a second, there was a question flittering across the back of her mind that screamed something she couldn't ignore before it vanished into her practiced calm.

For a split second, Seifa questioned if this was Troy.

"You know, it's funny, Sei..."

She opened her mouth to warn him to stop, the atmosphere was at fever point, he was going to go too far, something in how terrified his eyes looked against he vicious curve of his smile sent panic through her chest.

"Troy" her voice cracked "Come on, Troy you know you shouldn't keep going, this is -"

He cut her off with a tsk and raise of a bladed finger, bending to lower his face closer to hers from where he towered above her.

"Rude Seifa, I was talking."

He was near enough to feel the body heat glowing from his chest, and her voice choked in her throat as the point of a talon tapped gently against her nose as if he was chiding some kid.

"Funny isn't it?" He cooed, and it wasn't.

"You used to have so much time for me, didn't you. We used to really spend time together..." the lack of his stutter was a warning she knew him too well to ignore.

"... but nowadays you're so desperate to get out of my presence that I can literally see your skin crawl while you're forced to be around me. It's happening right now Sei... ain't it."

That was a lie, and she wanted to slap his hand away from where it pointed towards her chest, push him back towards the throne behind him and tell him how stupid an attack that was. She's always had time for him, she gave him infinite time, she gave him so much of herself that she'd been crumbling, she wanted to tell him the truth of it, that how much she gave him had been killing her, but she couldn't, he didn't give her the chance.

"You've got allllll the energy in the world for your little friends though, don't you. You've got laughter and happiness to pour all over them, fill them up with, show them how much you care, but not me, not anymore. And you know, that's got me thinking recently!"

The smile was fake but the monster behind it wasn't. He may as well have been snarling, and she was fully aware he wasn't really attempting to hide that at all.

He stepped a fraction closer again, close enough for her to reach and press a warning hand against his chest as he leaned further down to meet her eyes, the veneer of his calm cracking under the weight of the now haggard, panting breathes he whistled through that vicious smile, the terror in his eyes. She didn't understand any of this, why was he so afraid when it was him pressing this onwards, why was he so panicked when the act was so calm? His skin was like fucking fire under her hand and the push she gave to try and move him back did nothing.

"Made me realise, maybe I was never your friend really - maybe I was just something you held onto like a lifeline in the storm of your shitty life choices, huh?" She felt tears rise, this wasn't fair, this was too real now, this was being aimed at his friend not his employee, but he wouldn't stop.

"Taken for a ride while you lead me on all these years. That would explain it, right? How much you got for them, how much you'll give them, when I'm just a burden to you. Or..."

His mouth was next to her ear and she wanted to beg him to stop before it was too late, before he did what she knew he was about to do. To stop before he decimated everything, but the words were caught behind the sob she refused to let spill as he drove the knife home with one last twist.

"Maybe the real problem here Seifa, is they are more than friends, hmm? Because that's your real operation method, isn't it. That's how you get what you want, everyone knows it. Maybe they met your standards, but you just never saw me as good enough to fuck."

The crack of his jaw against her fist echoed through the stone throne room for long enough to make the silence that came after all the more horrible.

She remembers that, that noise and the pain ripping through her hand in burning waves, but she doesn't really remember the rest. 

She doesn't fully remember what she saw, the flash of those glaring, monstrous eyes that burned down on them both as Troy reeled in horrified shock, cradling his face in confusion like he couldn't understand why she'd just hit him, she doesn't remember the flicker of Siren wings or the laughter that echoed somewhere in the back of her mind but made no sound.

It's a daze. Whatever he whispered pleadingly after, teary-eyed and shaking, she didn't hear.

She doesn't remember leaving and how she stormed down the Cathedral halls and into the freezing night air, doesn't remember who saw her or if clergy had been there. Doesn't remember the way she'd mindlessly picked towards the hi-rise Ven's quarters were in before realising she was walking the wrong way, or how effortlessly she'd flipped the ignition in her ship, or how prepped she'd been to jump out of Pandora's orbit soon as she hit safe distance, doesn't remember any of it.

But the pain in her hand and the look in his eyes after, she fucking remembers that.

#borderlands #borderlands 3 #bl3 #troy calypso #tyreen calypso #calypso twins #seifa #leech lord #sbsart

[damejudyhench]

Many thanks to @captastra @strangefable @jumpship90 and @kourumi for your writing prompts from the “touch” meme! They went together really nicely, so I’ve combined them into one fic. I hope you enjoy 😊

the prompts were:

2. Running fingers through hair

16. Massaging them

17. Holding the other’s chin up

32. Caressing the other’s back

34. Washing the other’s body

this is so indulgent to me, it’s sfw but I’m still sitting here like 😳😳😳

tags: canon-typical injury, blood, mention of corporal punishment, bathing kink, lying

Max took forever in the shower. It was a fact of life, a law of nature, as inevitable as gravity. Whether it was a trauma reaction to his time in Tartarus, his determination to prove that if cleanliness was next to Lawfulness then he was the most Lawful person on board, or simple vanity; once he was in there, it was almost impossible to get him out. Nyoka, the newest member of their crew, could pound on the door all she wanted; she might as well be cussing out gravity itself.

So Pearl let him be for longer than she might have, but eventually concern started to nag at her. Max was hurt; a larger than average mantis had caught them unawares while they were scavenging the canyon that lay outside of Stellar Bay. They’d all been left worse for wear, but Max had taken the brunt of it, and he’d staggered back to the Unreliable with his face pale, swearing through gritted teeth as he clutched his arm to his chest in the position of maximal stability that signified a fracture or worse. He might need her help. After a few cautious knocks on the bulkhead, followed by a few less cautious, Pearl used her Captain’s override and pushed inside.

Max rounded on her like a wounded animal cornered in its lair. Shirtless, his injured arm strapped against his chest, his other hand held his razor. His jaw was still more than half covered in shaving foam, and she could see a fine thread of bright red blood trickling down the skin of his throat.

“Yes, I am still using the bathroom! Architect forfend someone on this ship might actually possess any standards of decency…”

Screw him.

“Mind you don’t cut yourself,” she snarled back, and left him to his own devices.

Around five minutes later, as she lay on her bunk scanning through an old data pad, there was a knock at the door. Max stood in the gangway, his towel draped around his neck, a sheepish expression on his face.

“I apologise… and I would appreciate your assistance, Pearl. If you’re not too busy, of course.” His tone was courteous, but his face was tight and drawn, and she knew he must be in pain despite the strapping.

“Any time, Max.”

In the shower, she took the towel and the razor gently from his hand and set them on the sink, then turned to face him. His shoulder was bruised an ugly purple and red, fading to deep brown beneath his collarbone where it was dented and distorted. It looked sore as hell, and Pearl sucked her breath through her teeth in sympathy.

She pushed him gently back until he was sitting on the toilet, then took his canidfeather brush and applied a new coat of lather to his face. She shaved him with slow, even strokes, pausing occasionally to grasp his chin and tilt his head from side to side and then back so that she could check her progress. Max looked throughout as though he wanted to say something, but as in love with the sound of his own voice as he was, he kept still to avoid injury.

When she was done, she wiped his face clean with his towel and stepped back to admire her handiwork. Max got to his feet and shuffled toward the shower

“Of all the damned bones one might break, this has to be the worst… I can scarcely do anything by myself,” he grumbled.

“It’s the most commonly broken bone in the body,” Pearl replied mildly. Max had hang ups about injury, about physical weakness. He took it as a sign that he was straying from the path; or worse, that his path lead to destruction. Pearl knew because she’d been raised that way herself. Those who were meant to survive, survived.

That was how her job had worked. She’d treated those whose benefit to their corporation had outweighed the cost of their treatment. Of course, ultimately it was down to the Plan who survived and who didn’t, the corps were kind of a middleman, but the OSI said that was ok because the corps being in charge was down to the Plan too. It was a whole system based on a lie so obvious she couldn’t understand how she’d once believed it, or how so many people still did. Including the man in front of her, who was self conscious about asking for help when he’d broken his collarbone.

She locked the door, unfastened his pants and eased them down over his hips along with his shorts. She made a neat pile of his clothing, then reached for the sling that held his arm.

“You want to take this off or keep it?”

“I’d rather it remain dry.”

“Ok… you ready?”

She let Max brace himself, with his good arm supporting the other, then gently released the sling and added it to the pile. Max flinched, but nodded when she glanced at him. Pearl activated the shower, sending warm water streaming down over his body. She smiled at the sight of him. His hair fell forward into his eyes, and he gave a deep sigh of pleasure.

Pearl stepped back and frowned. It was going to be tough to wash him properly without getting herself soaked in the process. And Max hadn’t been able to shower for a few days, which would have been a torment to him. If she was going to do it, she ought to do it right. Besides, it wasn’t as though they hadn’t seen each other naked before. She undressed quickly, adding her clothing to his own, then bent to pick up the soap and the washcloth. Max’s eyes were wide, and whatever he’d wanted to say before seemed to have gone from his mind entirely. He saw that she was watching him, and hurriedly looked away.

The air was warm and steamy; the water pleasant on her skin. She soaped Max’s shoulders, his chest, carefully avoiding the injured area, then worked her way down his arms. His muscles were tight beneath his skin, and she dug in a little and squeezed, working out the knots in his body. He had thick, strong fingers that were just long enough to be elegant, she thought as she washed his hands. She went to her knees to do his legs, and noticed that his cock twitched a little, but when she looked up at him his eyes were closed, and he seemed quite lost in the moment.

“Spin around,” she said, getting back to her feet. Max frowned, and he once again avoided meeting her gaze.

“I’ll be fine now. Thank you.”

“What? You’re kidding. There’s no way you can use that fancy stick with the sponge on it… I’ll do your back, I don’t mind.”

Max gave a pointed sigh and turned, but she noticed the droop in his neck, the way he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. Strangely, he looked frightened.

His broad back was a lattice of scars, and Pearl brought her hand up to her mouth to avoid gasping or otherwise making a sound.

“I haven’t seen it in a while… is it still as bad as I remember?” Max said bitterly.

“They did this to you? In prison?”

“Where else? I can’t remember what I did to earn it. I was hardly a model prisoner, not at first anyway.”

“It’s just scars, Max. You’ve got those grazes on your chest, some on your legs… it’s not that different.”

“It is different,” he hissed. “Because they broke me.”

“They… broke you?”

Max looked away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You were in prison for heresy, right? And look what you did as soon as you got out. You went straight after the journal, just as heretical as you were before. They didn’t break you.”

On impulse, she hugged him. Her arms around his waist and her chest against his back, both of them slippery with soap.

“You’re stubborn, Max. They could drop Groundbreaker on your head and you’d get up and keep right on going after the Equation.”

He laughed, a sound that was rare and delightful in its rarity, and relaxed beneath her touch as she ran the cloth over his back.

“You have a way with words, Pearl. And you may have a point. Nevertheless, I must ask that you don’t tell the rest of the crew.”

“Your secret’s safe with me… now sit down for this last part.”

Max settled himself on the tiled floor, bracing with his good arm. He leaned back against her legs, a pleasant sensation with his warm wet skin and the solid weight of him. She ran her fingers through his hair, rinsing out the worst of the sweat and the dust, then reached for the elegant glass bottle she’d had her eye on ever since the first time she’d set foot in his cabin.

Max’s voice carried a tone of warning. “That one’s  expensive, you only need a purpleberry sized amount - a fucking purpleberry sized amount, good Law!” Pearl laughed and ignored him, pouring the rich, sweet smelling shampoo into her palm. She lathered his hair, breathing in the scent of lavender and nearmint and Max. His hair was thick and soft, and he groaned in pleasure as she alternated between running her fingers through it and massaging his scalp.

When he was clean from tip to tail she helped him to his feet, let the water rinse over him. Finally, with a nod that mixed pleasure and regret, he was done. She towelled him off and helped him dress and reapply his sling, ran a comb through his hair. She doubted it was to his usual standard, but it kept it out of his eyes.

“Good as new, Max. So listen… our field guide, Nyoka, she’s got something she wants to do that she needs a crew for. If we help her out, she’s gonna give us a big discount in return. So I figure we do her thing, let you rest up, then once you’re all healed we can head out. I’ll find my broker, you can find your… scholar.”

“My scholar,” Max murmured. He took her hand, and for a moment Pearl was again convinced that he was going to say something, but instead he squeezed her tightly. “Thank you, Captain.”

#the outer worlds #vicar max #maximilian desoto #vicar max/the captain #captain Pearl jenkins #prompt fic #my fic #the outer worlds fic #it’s called ‘most commonly broken’ cause I’m a pretentious fuck

[katie-writes24]

Fell Into The Same Arms Pt.2

Pairing: Thomas Jefferson x reader

Warnings: Language, angst, a pinch of fluff, ANGST, suggestive material, mentions of drug use, sad sad sad

Part 1

I’m starting to believe I will never just get straight to the point? But it’s whatever. This wasn’t even suppose to have a part 2, but everyone hyped it up which was super shocking to me? And luckily for you I write a lot when I’m in need of a vent soooo yeah! Anyways, let me know if you want to be tagged! Feedback is always appreciated! Enjoy!

It was cold, the wind a lot stronger this morning because of last nights storm. The window was open.

Thomas always left the window open, no matter how many times she complained.

"What if a bird flies in? What if someone climbs up and breaks in? And I don't like those bug noises!"

"What bug noises?"

"Like crickets and just little noises- I don't know but they creep me out!"

"I get too hot when I sleep, you know that," Thomas shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal, climbing into bed and folding his arms behind his head.

"Yeah, well I get too cold now," Y/N gets in on her own side, proving her point and wrapping herself in the blanket, making Thomas chuckle.

"Come 'ere, I'll keep you warm!" He wrapped his arms around her torso, cradling the back of her neck and breathing in the sweet scent of her shampoo. Y/N curled in and let out a blissful sigh, finally recovering some warmth.

"Don't let me go," She whispered before nodding off to sleep.

"I won't, I promise."

He was keeping his promise.

She should get up and go back to her own apartment, tell Hercules about everything and beg him not to tell anyone because she didn't want to hear the much deserved I told you so's. She should maybe stop at the drug store and pick up some pain meds and concealer, at least try and make the bruises fade. When Angelica calls her and asks where she is, she should tell her that she had a rough night and can't make it to work. She should leave this bed...

But she can't fight the warmth of Thomas's chest, can't seem to remove the covers and face the world just yet.

Lost in her own thoughts, she soon felt a hand run up and down her spine slowly. He was hesitant, and he had every right to be. They shouldn't indulge themselves in this, they both know that it will only hurt them later.

Last night, she let herself fall, both in her own beaten head and in Thomas's arms. She let him fix her up and tell her that it would be okay, and he let her rest in his bed because he knows that she always enjoyed the soft, fancy foam. Thomas didn't call anybody because he knew that Y/N didn't want that.

None of this would've happened if she just stayed home last night. She knew exactly what she was getting into when she opened her mouth and fought the fight that wasn't hers.

"You're thinking too loud."

He was one to talk, really.

His fingers found her scalp and started to massage it gently, and there was no resisting the feeling. It was a moment of peace, something she hadn't gotten in a while.

"When's the last time we were in bed together?"

Just like that, it's gone.

Y/N quickly removed herself out of his embrace and folded the covers back. Thomas only sighed dramatically, "Don't get so sensitive, Y/N."

"Yeah, that's rich. I think you should just be proud that you managed to bring me upstairs in the first place." She was being bitter, she knew it, but he sounded too smug about something that didn't even happen last night. Turning to face him, she could feel tension forming in the air.

"You're right, excuse me for trying to be a nice host!"

"Is that what you would call it? Because you had that dumb look on your face where you think you know exactly what you're doing, but you really don't. It's so...ugh, it's so practical of you to think last night was a whole thing!"

"May I remind you, that you're the one that broke this off." It was a stab, and again, she deserved it. But she didn't want to get into it right now, not when she was sore from a viscous beating from the previous night.

"I don't have time for this, Thomas-"

"When will you have time? We never even- we never sat down and talked about it!" Thomas was out of bed now, pacing the room and looking at her with narrowed eyes. "Will you ever make time for me? Do you even want to try and fix this?"

"If I wanted to fix it, then I would've when it happened!"

Thomas snapped his jaw shut, staring at her in disbelief. Y/N sighed, rubbing her forehead and looking up to meet his eyes. "Look, I know that this is all my fault, everything is my fault! I shouldn't have came here last night, I shouldn't have moved in with you, I shouldn't have said yes, and I shouldn't-"

"You shouldn't have said yes? Really? So...so-what, you just never loved me at all?"

"Of course I love you Thomas! I should've never gotten involved with you in the first place, that's the problem! I shouldn't have brought you into this fucked up life I have. I don't even remember why you liked me in the first place. I was in AA, and I obviously wasn't getting any better! And look at me now, look at my arm-" She thrusted her arm in his line of sight, making him flinch backwards either at the motion or the scrapes and bruises that layered her skin. "There's no helping this, Thomas."

The silence that came afterwards was deafening, both of them standing still, looking at each other. There was nothing more she could do to patch up the hole, there was no saving them.

"I thought you were getting better," Thomas was barely above a whisper, and the quiver in his voice made her feel guilty.

"Yeah...well, so did I." She felt calmer now, there wasn't a reason to be, but she felt like it was pointless anyway. "It's been a rough week. Too many tasks, too many problems. This guy at work....he said that they would help me sleep. I don't know really...what they do, but it's definitely not sleep."

"So, you're taking without knowing what it is? That's just...that's great-"

"I'm not here for a lecture, Thomas."

"Then what are you here for?"

Shockingly, she wasn't expecting that one. There was more to it, a long story that revolved around Alexander and John, one about Eliza telling her to go back to group, one that ended all contact with Lafayette. There was even more to the story of last night, but she was afraid if she told Thomas all of this, he would never open that door again to her, not even if she banged on it crying for help.

She was here because when she fell hard on the cement last night, she thought that it was the end, that she finally lost the battle and it would all be over soon. The first person she thought of was Thomas; if he would come to her funeral, if he would keep in contact with her friends, if he would ever think positively about her again?

There was even a sliver of hope that maybe he would come rushing down the corner, see her and help her. Luckily, the worker taking out the trash across the street saw the scene, started yelling, making threats about calling the police. Even though the threats weren't at her, she couldn't risk it, and she fled.

Looking over at her ex, and seeing his eyes all watery, she then realized she said all of that out loud.

"I always regretted it," Y/N clears her throat, trying to fight her own tears. "Always wish that I could take it all back, never even step foot in that club and take what was offered. I really do, Thomas. If I had just done that, maybe we would still... be together."

And what could you say to that? Thomas was always one to make it known when someone was in the wrong, would always correct someone when they said some asinine shit that he knew wasn't true. She could name three times that he called her out, one time that he even called James out, and she couldn't even keep count on how many times he told Alexander off for being absolutely wrong.

Her last statement..there was nothing wrong about that, because even he knew it was the truth.

She let drugs and people and lies overcome her, and it took a toll in their relationship. They both knew the last time they were in this house together that years of built up trust, compassion and love was destroyed in one minute.

Just when she was about to grab her keys and walk out, out of his life for good, for the better, he scoffed.

"You said love," It was barely above a whisper, but she could hear him perfectly.

Still, she played dumb. "What?"

"When I asked if it was real? If you ever loved me? You said you love me...present tense."

Looking up at his wide eyes, she could remember the nights where she would stare into them like they never ended, like there was a tiny galaxy in his pupils. It made her warm, and he would never look away.

Right now they look hopeful, the stars shining a bit brighter than before.

Y/N gestured small, not really knowing what to say or do. She'd either lie to Thomas or lie to herself, and she had lied to him enough, hasn't she?

Thomas crossed the room, placing his big hands against her arms. Their foreheads touched, and he was too close, it was bound to get ugly. It was bound to fall back into the same cycle if Y/N let him stay this close.

"We shouldn't," Y/N whispered, voice cracking and not meeting his face until he tilted her chin up. There were his eyes again...

"You're probably right," Thomas huffed and licked his lips.

She didn't like the sound of that, she even shook her head to convince herself that this was all just bad bad bad.

"I need help, T."

His thumb swiped against the water on her cheek, shushing her. "We'll get you help. We can do this, you can do this, Y/N. Just let me be there when you do it."

It was tempting, so tempting.

“You know, maybe it’s not exactly fate...but Y/N I know that you were on my doorstep last night for a reason, let it be yours or not, who cares.”

There’s a thought. Maybe if she didn’t show up, she wouldn’t be in this situation, with Thomas so close that she could just selfishly take what she wants. The temptation was right in front of her and yet it wasn’t hers to have.

“Let this be our second chance...please.”

Thomas was begging, he never begged, not like this.

"I can be there, by your side. I will be...just let me in."

“Your relationship was doomed from the start.”

“Don't think about it too much. Things happen.”

“He doesn't need you, not when you're falling apart and breaking from the seams.”

Y/N leaned up and met his soft lips, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him as close as possible. Thomas wrapped his arms around her back, kissing back just as firm.

Call it cliche, but it felt like Y/N was back home, like this whole time she was on a ridiculously long getaway, except that she had never meant to getaway in the first place. This connection was what she needed all along. Or maybe Y/N just needed to be around Thomas, just talk to him. Maybe they were meant to fight and scream and argue and just be. Maybe she was meant to get hooked again only to show up and have Thomas take her into his arms willingly.

Their lips moved against each other with the same rhythm as before, with passion and skill. Thomas massaged her tongue with his own, only pulling back when he was out of breath.

They weren't sure what the future would look like, if Y/N ever would get better, would actually try to. Maybe she'd break Thomas's heart again, and it would be a lesson to him. Maybe they would both take it slow and learn how to build up from here without damaging one another unknowingly.

Good or bad, they were willing to give it a try, no matter how many of their loved ones told them how terrible it was to go back to the one that hurt you most.

Let me know if you want to be tagged!!

Jefferson tag list: @notebookgirl30 @dontblinkumightmiss @tinywhim @checkurwindow @einfachniemand @daveeddiggsit @ohsoverykeri-blog @astralaffairs @i-know-i-can

#thomas jefferson x reader #thomas jefferson imagine #thomas jefferson x oc #my writings #hamilton imagine #hamilton fanfic #hamilton fanfiction #hahaha #I was super in my feelings when I wrote this #but anyways #it’s fine we all need some angst in our lives

[littlefreya]

The Way to Hell - Part 6

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it or parts of the source material and claiming it as your own*

Summary: Post Mi6 - August manages to escape with his face intact and just won himself the title of being the most dangerous man on earth. With every agent in the world on the hunt for him, life became a living hell, but that’s okay because hell is where he reigns.

Too bad for the woman who’ll stand in his way.

Chapters: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10| Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 |

Pairing: August Walker x OFC (Ingvild) | August Walker x ofc Suzy

Word count: 5K

Warnings: Dark themes, rough oral sex, gagging, hinted anal, mentions of rough sex, and August twisted thoughts.  

A/N: The adventures of August and Ingvild continue 💖 thanks again for reading and giving me your feedback, it keeps me fueled so keep it up :D! Of course thanks @agniavateira​ for editing my work and being my muse.

Title: Stargazer

The love boat sets sail through the icy water of the North Sea. The apostle, Knight_of_Cockn3ss, or whatever that kid’s name is, wasn’t joking when he mentioned a romantic cruise.

The traitorous sun hangs mid-sky as August trails across the deck. A beige fedora covers his dark curls and a matching cream-coloured suit over his sturdy body. In his right hand rests his laptop, he is not daring to leave it out of sight even for a minute. His eyes observe the surroundings; he must be the only single person on this trip, surrounded by timid couples on the verge of divorce and sugar daddies with their sugar babies.

‘At least the young girls are pretty.’ August greets a tall blonde, holding one hand behind his back and giving her a small bow before continuing on his way.

He’ll have to endure this trip for a couple more days, which isn’t ideal by any means, but he can’t risk getting caught or killed. Airports all over the world are swarming with security guards, agents, and assassins on really fucking high alert by now, all of them waiting for him.

The irony of the situation is that a long time ago used to be one of them. A wanted target on a scale of world catastrophe would spin a web of agents worldwide and Agent Walker would always get there first. That’s why they called him “The Hammer” - he nailed each target on the head, among other things.

No one cared about torture and extreme violence. He once brought back a target in such a dire condition that Erica was forced to send him to psych evaluation. He bluntly told the psychiatrist he enjoys the violence for no particular reason why, and then fucked her over the desk.

He scoffs at the memory, breaking into a wolfish grin.

Standing on the rail, his gaze is glued to the blue horizon, following the trail of sea-foam left by the boat as it slices through the water, disturbing the peaceful life beneath the sea. Slowly, his chaotic mind begins to drift, reveries of the CIA reminding him of her.

Golden locks of hair glow like hot sand on a summer day. Sweetly, she jokes about buying a yacht, telling Erica to fuck off so they can leave everything behind, and sail into freedom.

Memories are perfidious. Why has she been on his mind so much as of late? She’s been dead for years, flesh eaten by worms and the insects.

She is no more but a sack of rotting bones.

To condemn her memory is more than she deserves.

August’s nostrils flare. For whatever reason, his mind wanders to the girl who lived. Gently snorting, he shakes his head, remembering the condition of how he left ‘poor little’ Ingvild; half-naked, wrists tied up to the bed, probably crying to whatever father figure she has.

After what he did to her, she’ll probably retire from Icarus.

“I’m coming after you,” he mimics her voice in his head, and laughs while making his way toward the stack of beach lounge chairs. The section is nearly empty as most of the lovebirds are dinning in the main hall and unlike the degenerated visitors of this cruise, he is here solely on business.

Much work is left to be done. “Knight” has promised to meet him in London’s sky tower, suggesting he may or may not have a source of plutonium. Whether he’s a broker, a source, or a possible troll matters very little to a man on the run. Desperate times are ahead; he may be sticking his neck out, might be stepping into an obvious trap, but choice is scarce at the moment.

‘This is not the type of anarchy I dreamed of.’

That little girl, Ingvild, was the first to come. There will be others, endless more until the world will fall apart.  

“I’ll keep coming after you.” Her voice hinges on his troubled mind.

He opens his laptop with a groan, trying to ignore the truth that lies on his mind like a pile of heavy brick.

‘You should have left her pretty face to die in the bottom of the lake.’

“Oh, but to miss out on all the fun that followed in that bedroom?” he speaks to himself quietly, unlocking his laptop with a retinal scan.

Luckily, his old drive is still accessible on the cloud he encrypted. Years of work and dirt collected on the CIA and the government nestles on a single server. The ugly truth, the lies, the corruptness. Thick and black like a pit filled of tar.

Erica Sloane has her own dedicated special folder. Personal vendetta was never on his agenda, it was never about revenge, it was about a cause but sweet Erica deserves whatever damnation he could think of. He hopes that when he detonates his nuclear bombs, that once this world falls apart, she’ll sit on a front-row seat to see her failures raining down like fire from the sky.

A vicious smirk paints his face as his fingertips slide onto the touchpad. August scans through his many folders, seeking a specific one regarding illegal weapon deals. It would be a lovely afternoon at the CIA had one of these recordings or documents would find their way to the public eye.

August slides the cursor around, entering one of the CIA’s subfolders when his smile fades away.

He thought he deleted her folder a long time ago, but it seems like mistakenly, he placed it in another section instead.

And now here it is. A name he thought he’d never see again: Lacey.

Strange, he hardly remembers what she looked like. How long has it been? Six? Seven years ago? In his dreams, she’s nothing but a rotting corpse, but the mind has a tendency to alter one’s memory, doesn’t it?

Was she even sweet at all?

‘Manipulation was her strongest trait anyway.’

Without mustering a mother breath, he deletes the folder, and proceeds to search for the files he means to leak. He muses if they caught up with the notion that it was him who poisoned the well this entire time. Years of stirring chaos while sitting with his laptop of his bed while Sloane and her high-ranking management freaked out and did all that’s in their power to cover shit up.

It was so hard to keep a poker face and pretend he is trying to help. One particular time, he got so ecstatic he had to go and jack off in the men’s room.  

‘That was a good one.’

Something abruptly disturbs his attention, making his heart nearly drop.

‘It can’t be, is that...?’

A petite brunette passes through the lounge, joyfully trodding along the deck. Her hair is tucked back into a ponytail. No, it can’t be her, not in the situation he left her at. By what sort of dark magic would she exactly appear here out of nowhere?

‘I wouldn’t be surprised if the little Valkyrie turns out to be some sort of a witch.’

The brunette feels his gaze upon her figure and turns. He is met with a brown, warm gaze, rather than the sharp icy lustre that is Ingvild’s trademark. Less pretty as well, but looks about the same age, perhaps a year or two younger.

Another sugar baby, weary and discontent.

August realises he must have been staring with a dumbfounded look as she decides to smile back and make her way to him.

“Good afternoon,” she greets in a Midwestern accent. August’s eyes focus on her painted lips and in his mind, he imagines wiping that cotton candy pink lipstick by his thumb.

“Afternoon,” he smiles kindly, tipping his fedora with a welcoming bow.

Always the gentleman.

The young woman moves to sit on the seat in front of him, crossing her legs together as she takes in his sight. She observes and assesses how old he is and how much money he must own.

Probably looking for a new target.

‘Not old enough to be your daddy, but you can still call me that if it floats your boat.’

“Are you a secret agent?” She jokes, peering at his laptop before he smooths his hand on the lid to shuts it. He pretends to be intrigued by her senseless, obvious seduction when his mind once again forced him to go back and compare her to living-dead girl.

It seems like he can’t get away from her. Perhaps her threats were a curse? Even halfway across the sea, this total stranger reignites his curiosity.

‘Does Ingvild has any values? Any empathy toward others?’

She did experience fear in those little moments when his knife penetrated her soft little gut - that look in her eyes; like a virgin, fucked extremely rough for the very first time.

Thinking of those big, terrified eyes light up a snarl on his bewhiskered lip.

There was an inch of vulnerability in that sweet farewell kiss, a sense lost look on her face as if she couldn’t fit that emotion into any drawer inside her brain. It made her look so much more beautiful.

He wonders what she would have looked like if he went ahead with his besser urges and fucked her.

‘Maybe she’d finally break into tears. Fuck, I’d love to see her cry.’

“Sorry, I didn’t catch your name?” He interrupts the sassy brunette as she speaks of Lord-knows-what. It seems that she doesn’t even realise he wasn't listening to her for the last 5 minutes she been babbling . The girl smiles sweetly, tucking a brown lock of hair behind her ear. The diamond bracelet that decorated her wrist dangles as she does.

“Suzy.”

“Suzy,” August repeats and smiles charmingly before giving his lips a quick flick of a tongue. “Would you like to join me in my room?”

The brunette pretends to blush beneath the layers of foundation on her face and fakes an argument inside her mind as if she actually considers refusing his bold suggestion.

~*~

Back in his room, he pushes the petite brunette to her knees. He wipes away her makeup, smearing the pink paint with the crudeness of thumb. Suzy giggles, thinking she probably had men do worse than that by now.

‘Oh, darling, we haven’t even started yet.’

August’s large hand traces her rounded face, knuckles brushing against her cheek tenderly while running down to meet her lips again.

“Open up sweetheart,” he commands in a relaxed voice, his index finger demanding entrance to her velvety mouth. She spreads her lips open slowly, allowing him to slip in his long digit to explore the wet cavern while his thumb caresses her chin. Much to his delight, she sucks on his finger obediently, moaning as he slowly pumps in and out of her hot mouth.

“Good girl,” he praises, his free hand reaching to unbuckle his belt urgently and free his aching cock from his trousers. He tugs at himself for a second, staring how she suckles on his finger with fake devotion. She probably do want his cock, but it’s his money that she’d care for more later.

‘Oh, how disappointed you are going to be once I’m off this boat, baby.’

“How about I’ll fuck that pretty little throat, hmm?” August asks and without waiting for an answer, pulls his soaked finger away and clasps his hand around the hollows of her cheeks instead, forcing her to keep her mouth open.

She voices no protest, only her eyes staring at him wide and helpless. He pays no attention, preferring the sight of his cock sliding in between those puffy lips and pushing into the warm depths instead. A prolong groan slips out of his mouth, emphasising the relief of finally getting his dick wet.

Usually, he loves to watch, yet he lets his eyes roll back and shuts them tightly this time while she in the background. It only makes him fuck her throat more vigorously, his hands cradling and saddling her head, forcing her to meet the violent thrust of his hips.

“Don’t touch me,” he rasps breathlessly, as her her dirty paws snake for his waist. Terrified, she pulls away, intimidated by his voice. August’s eyes remain shut yet he can feel the wetness on her cheeks as his thumbs dig into them. Those tears are enough to send him over the edge, and he comes into her throat without any warning, grunting a couple of times and lingering inside her mouth to make sure she’ll swallow him clean.

‘That’s right little Valkyrie angel, you’ll take what I’ll give you.’

The mists of fantasy fade as August blinks his eyes open. Debunked by the plastic-type of woman. Slowly, he pulls his cock out, impressed by the mascara that’s smeared beneath Suzy’s now glassy red eyes. He wipes her lower lip clean and then gives her chin a gentle pinch with a soft grin.

Suzy gives out a weak smile in return, trying to look satisfied while remaining on her knees. He can tell that her little brain is pretty much half-through into realising she made a mistake by following the devil into his room.

Tall and menacing, he looks at her drenched by vile mischief. August moves to sit on the queen sized bed, petting the empty spot next to him. She follows, fighting her instinct to put a hand on his knee as she is used to, afraid that he will bark at her again.

“Tell me, Suzy,” he coaxes, reaching for the wallet in his pocket and drawing out a Trojan condom.

“Have you ever tried anal sex?”

****

“Ingvild,” the old man calls her name once he brings her to her new home. It’s a simple, minimalist apartment with naked walls and generic black IKEA furniture.

Silent, she peers at him, holding her small luggage between sinewy fingers. Everything that she possesses in the world is in that suitcase; a bunch of plaid skirts, white buttoned shirts, and a few books about fairies and monsters.

This man called Liam, is he to be her new father? He never even offered her a smile and hardly bothers looking into her eyes. Instead he grunts and sighs while making his way around the house and gesturing for her to follow.

At least he is kinder than Mother Superior. At least in here, no girl is going to pick any fights with her and get her into trouble.

“This is your room,” Liam gestures. The pubescent girl sneaks closer, peeking inside with curiosity. It’s not what someone would call a girl’s room by any means, very much like the rooms they had at the orphanage. It contains a single bed with a thin mattress and white metal bars and on the bed rest some casual clothes for her to wear.

At least she won’t have to wear skirts anymore.

As little Ingvild continues to scan the room, she picks on a small library housing some books and a learning desk with a computer. Probably for her to gain some knowledge of the world. She never had any of that at the orphanage, just the bible and the “forbidden” books of fairytales she stole from one of the nuns.

“Today you can rest,” Liam speaks, watching the little girl as she moves to place her luggage inside and sits on the bed.

“Tomorrow, you will start your first day of training.”

‘Training?’

Ingvild says nothing, only glares at him back quietly. It’s quite clear no woman is present in the house which makes her wonder; the orphanage doesn’t allow single parents to adopt, especially not men. Was Mother Superior this desperate to get rid of her that she decided to throw her at the first person who asked?

“Just so we’re clear, girl,” Liam grumbles, “I am not your father. You call me Liam and that’s that.”

She nods silently and watches him leave the room, shutting the door behind. Sighing, she falls back to the mattress, her silver eyes fixing at the ceiling in wonders of what sort of new life has she been sold ito.

“Ingvild...”

A low, velvety voice calls for her again, the mattress dipping, shifting with the weight of the one who joins her. As she turns her face aside, she is met with hungry eyes and a smile so cold it makes her heart shrivel.

August.

*~*

A loud thud wakes her with a sharp inhale. Though her face remain stoic, quickly readjusting to the sight of moving ground as the plane’s wheels make their landing. ‘Arrogant August Walker, invading my dreams’, she curses but pays no more thought to why he was there. Analysing dreams was never her thing. They were just memories of random things that happened to her in her childhood and August is no different as he had been on her mind for the last 72 hours.

He was a job.

One that she needed to get over with.

Liam was at her throat with this one specifically, nagging her like an old shrew. He wasn’t used for her taking her time with it, not his special girl.

Massaging her strained neck, she waits for the last person to leave the plane, observing the empty cabin and noticing how used it appears with all the crumpled, empty snack bags lying on the floor.

‘Ungrateful’, she thinks before exiting her seat and tip-toeing to get her luggage.

The arrivals terminal is infested with agents. Having been trained for years, she sees right through their casual attire, so fake they almost look like B-movie actors. It’s those badly selected outfits and their observant gazes - eyes obsessively fixed on every gate. Every airport in the world must be the same right now, desperate to catch this nightmare of a terrorist.

‘As if he would be stupid enough to travel by plane.’

With a high profile target like August on the loose, it almost feels like the world is on the brink of war.

‘Is that what he wants? To be an anarchistic god that plows chaos everywhere?’

Maybe that’s why he gave her back her life, to humiliate her, to show her how easily he can twist everyone’s life and disrupt the world people know.

‘Mephisto, Lucifer, Hades, Hel.’

“Remember that you’re only alive because I have allowed it.”

A sudden shard of pain sears through her torso, the wound reacting to the phantasm of his low timbre which plays in her mind. It makes her slow on her steps and chews on her inner cheek to suppress a moan that has been begging to escape her lips since yesterday afternoon.

“August Walker”, the name rolls on the tip of her tongue.

Her very first failure, the very first man who killed her.

It almost feels like a bond now, intimate and twisted. August went deeper than any other man ever did - he fucked her internal organs.

‘Is that is why you “performed” for him in the shower? Why you thought about him, slipping inside you with his cock rather than his knife?’

Ingvild huffs tenderly and passes in-between a couple reuniting with passion, her shoulder sharply bumping against the woman, who yells at her while she remains indifferent, never bothering to look back.

Putting on her shades, she continues to head for the exit. The wound in her gut throbs even further, all of a sudden and just when she is tempted to give into the pain and acknowledge it, the new mobile device in her jacket’s pocket begins to vibrate.

Liam, who else?

“Papa?” She answers, the big exit sign finally flickering in front of her eyes.

She can see Liam rolling his eyes without having to see his grumpy old face.

“What progress do you hope to make with this lead? Someone says they saw him in Singapore yesterday, you should be following these threads instead.”

Ingvild holds her breath, knowing very well the lead is false. August was with her a night ago, so close she tasted him, so near his fingers dug deep into her flesh, leaving an imprint on her bones and even though there is something quite demonic about him, she doubts he can be at two different places at once.

“I need access to his world, I need to pick up the clues,” she explains, yet the sad truth is that she has no idea what to look for. August is not a rookie idiot, he did a fine job leaving zero clues back at the bed&breakfast room they “shared”. Not even the receptionist who ogled her oddly when she left could tell her where he was heading.  

“Just get it done, Ingvild. You’re acting like a child, this isn’t like you,” Liam mutters before hanging up.

‘He is right, this isn’t like you.’

Ingvild feels hooks clutching her guts, not just the pain August inflicted upon her, but something deeper, something desperate, leaving a void in that same spot. The fact that he slipped between her fingers seems to torments, just as much as the fact that she lied to Liam for the first time. It makes her feel like a rebellious teenager. She never keeps secrets from him and there she is, lying through every word.

Absentmindedly, her fingers press against her lips as she exits the airport.

~*~

The address led her to a small suburban house in southern London. It’s the type of house that has large glass windows where anyone standing outside can ogle freely. Rich people houses, as she likes to call it. She had a few missions in the past with people living in homes like this one - always an easy kill.

A blond woman meanders about inside the house, wearing a grey silk nightgown, preparing for bedtime probably. According to Walker’s file, she’s the most recent ex - Sydney. They broke up a couple of months before he decided to go on what he thought would be his final mission, his deathstrike.

‘If only.’

Glancing from the gravel path that leads to large metal doors, she learns the woman’s delicate manoeuvres, her mind reciting every graceful gestures as she crouches down to place food for a large Maine coon cat.

‘Is that the type of woman he likes?’

August would strikes her as a man who would fuck anything with a heartbeat but he did have more than a few relationships. She can’t help but wonder if he has a type, noticing how Sydney is more of a woman than a girl; solid income, big name lawyer, a woman who can take care of herself, a woman to start a family with.

Not that she imagines Walker starting a family anytime soon.

She is pretty too, with her mid-length straight golden hair, bright eyes and a shapely body. Ingvild looks at her own outfit: jeans, sneakers and a black sleeved shirt, nowhere as classy as beautiful Sydney.

The hour is late, still she walks toward the door and rings the bell.

“Can I help you?”

Ingvild is greeted by green eyes and a subtle Welsh accent. She gives her one of her fake smiles, trying to look as charming and pleasant as a sweet doll.

“Sydney Bedford?” She asks, while briefly scanning her body. She tries to imagine what August liked about her the most; her figure? Her angelic face? Her emerald stare?

“I have some questions about August Walker, he used to…”

Sydney shakes her head vehemently, waving her hands in the air. Something in her eyes drastically changes the moment the name “August” slaps her across the face.

“Are you MI6!? Please, I don’t want to speak about that psychotic loser anymore.”

Ingvild smiles calmly, a soft chuckle leaving her throat.

“Oh you see, he disappeared…”

“Good riddance!” Sydney replies, her eyes filling with anger, her face turning red within seconds. “Listen. I already told them everything I know.”

“Please,” Ingvild begs, batting her long lashes and tilting her head like a cute little kitten. “I’m new in this and my superior will be mad if I don’t at least speak to you. May I please come in? It’s important for my investigation.”

The same childlike charm that works on men might as well work on women, for different reasons in this occasion. Sydney is a single 36-38-year old woman who lives alone with her cat.

She must have wanted a family, perhaps with Walker, no wonder she’s furious.

Leaning against the door frame, Sydney scrutinises the young girl, believing she is younger than she really is with that pale smooth face and big innocent greyish eyes.  

“Come on in, dear.” She opens the door wide, letting Ingvild step inside before closing it behind her.

The main entrance leads into a large living room, furnished with a black leather sofas and a glass coffee table. She owns a TV that is larger than Ingvild's entire living room and the walls are moulded with grey bricks, shiny from some cut stone.

Ingvild imagines how lovely it would feel to crack the shimmering stone with August’s skull.

“Would you like some tea?” Sydney offers while heading toward her luxurious kitchen.

“Please,” Ingvild answers, walking around the house and examining every corner to learn of the woman who invited her in. She nearly stumbles as the large cat rubs against her foot. “Oh,” she exclaims, lowering herself to pick the chubby feline to her arms.

She never owned a pet. Liam said it’s unnecessary.

“So like I said,” Sydney calls from the kitchen, putting the kettle on the stove. “I don’t know anything about August and where he is. All I can tell you is that he was weird.”

“Weird? How?” Ingvild asks, stroking the cat behind his ears and while it purr against her chest.

Sydney places two mugs on the black marble counter in the kitchen and opens a cabinet, looking for some tea bags. “He would disappear and then return after weeks, telling me not to ask any questions. Then, he would go away and come back in crazy hours. He was a gentleman of course but arrogant and demanding, never taking no for an answer.”

Ingvild turns to look at Sydney, arching her eyebrow as if she is surprised to learn this about the man who stabbed and drowned her in an icy lake. “Is that so?”

“Yes!” Sydney shouts back, her chest heaving as she throws the bags into the mugs and turns toward Ingvild.

“Everything had to go his way, and I won’t be surprised if he had a mistress or another family, or god! Maybe an illegal drug practice.”

The cat jumps down from Ingvild’s embrace, and she brushes the grey hairs off her black shirt. “What makes you think this way?”

“Like I said; disappearing in the middle of the night, coming back... I knew something was off so I went and... wait I… I shouldn’t tell you this, you’re an agent!” Sydney looks around her, as if she’s afraid someone might be listening to their conversation.

Ingvild takes a step forward into the kitchen, her grey eyes seeking Sydney’s, giving her a warm, kind smile. “You can tell me anything Sydney, you are not in danger, I promise. We just want to locate Walker, he hasn't reported to HQ in a while.”

Sydney observes her gaze, trying to determine her personality. She thinks the young woman seem gentle with those unique eyes and the hair that’s tucked back to a strict ponytail.

“I had him traced,” she whispers. “I know I wasn’t supposed to because he is CIA, and trust me I was scared but I had to know.”

“How did you do that?” Ingvild asks, tilting her head with curiosity and slight disbelief. It seems odd that a man like Walker was bugged by some dumb lawyer woman.

“I did his laundry, it wasn’t hard to hide something inside the pocket of his jacket. I mean, inside the fabric, where he can’t find it.”

Ingvild can’t help but let out a small snort, amused by the fact that the infamous CIA agent got made so easily. She covers her mouth with her fist, shyly smiling into it, but it’s noticed by Sydney who stands in front of her, staring oddly.

“Where would he go?”

“Some place in South Kensington, almost every day for the last month of our relationship. He would vanish there for hours and then come back. I have the address, hold on.” Sydney leaves the kitchen and walks through a long corridor.

Not bothering with politeness, Ingvild follows her, easy off her feet like the big grey cat, carefully exploring this new territory. She imagines the fights August would have with this woman and then the passionate sex afterwards while her hand runs against the texture of the garnet.

“Oh!” Sydney exclaims, confused to see Ingvild in the doorway of her bedroom. The young woman looks around curiously, trying to find any memorabilia from August; a photo, a clothing article, man cologne. It seems like he was never even been here, though there is a certain coldness in this room that feels strangely familiar.

‘No, not August, his touch is warm.’

“He did trading or something,” Sydney says as she hands her over a small yellow note that was hidden in her purse. It has the address to August’s “secret lover”.

Ingvild takes the notes, memorizing the address before placing it in her jeans pocket. “Trading? Can you elaborate?”

She shrugs. “He asked me to not disturb him while he was doing some dealing, I don’t know what it was… it looked fishy but it might just be CIA stuff.”

Ingvild nods silently, scanning the room again and again and eventually taking in the sight of the empty bed. Her mind fills in the gaps, painting an image of August fucking Sydney into oblivion, his muscular body ramming into hers, one leg held over his shoulder while the blond little bitch screams in ecstasy.

“How was he in bed? Would you say he performed well?” Ingvild asks, her eyes gesturing toward the mattress.

Sydney frowns, giving her a slight repulsed face as she finds her question remarkably rude.

“How is this relevant to the investigation?”

She means to berate her when she witnesses Ingvild’s kind smile growing remarkably cold.

The young woman remains silent, taking a step closer and making Sydney almost stumble back as sudden fear creeps in. Grey frigid eyes, like icy shards, her nostrils slightly flares as she catches up the scent of her expensive perfume.

“How is this relevant to the MI6?!” Sydney asks again, trying to dismiss the tension yet continues to draw distance from the young agent.

“I never said I am MI6.”

Sydney’s back hits the wall with a soft thud, she attempts to flee but Ingvild’s hands lock around her shoulders, forcing her against the wall with a thud. As small as this woman is, she is way stronger than she appears.

“How was he in bed?” she repeats, her voice becoming more demanding while her glare threatening to spear into Sydney’s skull. “Would you say he satisfies you?”

Puny gasps peal from Sydney’s mouth, her green eyes becoming moist with pure fear.

“Please, don’t... He was... Rough.”

“Bondage?”

“He... he..he choked me,” she answers in a trembling voice, her lower lip quivering, much to Ingvild’s delight.

“He was too rough, he was big and he didn’t care, it was as if he enjoyed my pain...”

Ingvild licks her bottom lip, imagining Sydney thrown on the bed with August treating her like a rag doll, wrecking her completely. Bruises left everywhere, tattoos on her skin for the world to see this fine artist’s work. A cold flame licks at her spine, crawling down to the small of her back.

She’s uncertain why.

“Would you say he loved you?”

Sydney’s peers at her quietly, thinking of her answer for a few seconds while Ingvild’s fingers bury into her collarbone, voicelessly demanding a response.

“August Walker is incapable of love. He is dead inside.”

________________________________________________________

Disclaimer: I don’t own August Walker or the Mission Impossible Frenchise

#august walker #Henry Cavill #August Walker Fanfiction #Henry Cavill Fanfiction #August Walker x ofc #Henry Cavill x ofc #August Walker Fanfic #augustwalker #henrycavill

[bumbershots]

A CERTAIN ROMANCE

CHAPTER FIVE: A SPECIAL DAY

Author’s note: Hello! We have finally reached the awaited date between Harry and Alma. I was really excited for this chapter, hopefully you will enjoy it as much as I did, forgive me in advance for any mistakes, my beta reader (my boyfriend) was unavailable, so this is a good time to say that if anyone out there has the time and willingness to beta read any future chapters send me an ask or message to let me know. Enjoy! (:

Story masterlist ** Word count: 2.6K **

Harry wakes up feeling excited, nervous and hungry. He takes care of the latter, decides to make some blueberry pancakes, turns out he can't eat more than two and a cup of coffee. Not that the pancakes weren't great, in fact they were fantastic, he even decides to brag about them on an Instagram story that is published for his close friends only. Nick quickly replies to it with a laughing emoji.

You should take a Tupperware full of them to your date ;)

The reason behind his excitement and nerves make his heart race, he decides to type in a polite 'fuck off' to his mate before heading to the shower. Under the warm spray of water he tries to sort out his thoughts. Harry doesn’t want to think about his upcoming trip to California. 

It was necessary for the album or so he thought last week, after going through a box with the very few memories he kept from his ex. He wasn’t in a right state of mind then, he feels pathetic. The only reason why he wanted to spend time in Los Angeles was because everything there —from the pavement to the sky— was tainted by her. 

Why would he want to go back to that place where the constant reminder of his pain was literally living in the same neighbourhood? Because it would provide him the cathartic release he was looking for. That’s the line he used after Sarah and Mitch tried to dissuade him from flying across the Atlantic and Harry was so proud of himself when it worked. 

That very same day, he got the first text from Alma, it was the address like she promised. ‘In case one of your talents isn’t stumbling upon my work place ;)’ the second text read and Harry had to endure Sarah’s questionnaire about the girl that made him blush with a mere wink emoji. Not that he minded talking about her, he could go on all day.

He usually preferred a shower before breakfast, usually even work out before then but well, hunger clouded his judgement earlier today. Even with that taken care of that dread still niggled him away. Just slightly. So, he decided to pick up his guitar for a moment and strummed. There was no real intention to play seriously, or to write anything down on the journal by his desk. It was more of something he enjoys too much not to do it, a way to keep his hands and mind busy, faffing around with chords. With a bit of luck he might come up with a song, a tune which just worked, that just... clicked.

Contrary to what people might believe, genius didn't strike him here and then. Not like when he'd come up with Sign of the times or Two ghosts. But finding a neat little pattern of chords a good thirty minutes later makes him smile, it's something he can work with. It needs a little polishing from Mitch and company, sure, but it has a good rhythm. He scribbled down some notes on his journal and sent the audio to his fellow musician.

Maybe he will find the words in one of the old notebooks that are somewhere in the other room, perhaps on the ones that are still on his unpacked suitcase from Japan. Silently he also hoped to find the lyrics around London. He had lived in the capital for a few years now, but he had been different then. Now he likes to think that he's a man, no longer the teenager from the boy band or the shiny new solo artist. He has new perspectives, sights, smells in this new home of his. New ideas.

Harry gazes out his bedroom window; the view is not great –mostly of the other houses in the complex. His mind focused on the cloudy sky, confused because he swore it was sunny just a few minutes ago, can bet on his life that he woke up to dazzling sunshine rays of a warm yellow colour peeking through that same window. He puts his guitar away on the bed with care and makes a beeline to his wardrobe. He needs to figure out what to wear, pronto.

Skipping her afternoon kip was not something Alma did, it was a rare occurrence which meant one thing: something special was happening.

Walking down Oxford Street, trying to decide where to get some lunch without a care in the world, that was until the calmness faded, when her schedule for the day hit her.

She had a date with Harry. A date, with Harry Styles. It was weird to go by his full name in her head, she couldn't bring herself to call or think about him as The Harry Styles.

Maybe she'd settle to call him Harry the tube guy.

The clock on her phone showed that it was no longer single figure hours, she needed to get some food now or starve until her shift was over, and then he would have to watch her feast at whatever place he chose. Alma groaned, thought how ridiculous it was to worry about him watching her eat. Harry was a grown man; of course he knows that women eat too, right?

Walking into the nearest Sainsbury's she decided to take a deep breath. He's just some guy, she concluded after paying for her chicken baguette. Nothing to stress about.

Harry showered again, while belting out some classic pop tunes. Namely Christina Aguilera and Britney Spears, something that in the past he'd swear blind you'd misheard and it was actually The Rolling Stones or Pink Floyd. But he'd come to terms that he liked what he liked.

Towel clad in the bedroom, trying to shirk off hypothermia, he was quick to put on some pants and jeans, before throwing on some simple white tee proclaiming some fading band name. He uses a dry clean towel from the closet and attempts to dry his hair, as he styles his flopped mop the thought of a haircut crosses his mind. It was getting a bit long.

One last look at the clock and he is ready to leave. "You'll be fine. Trust me." He quietly speaks to himself before closing the last few buttons of his green parka and fixing the newsboy cap on his head.

When he walks out of Colindale tube station, a little earlier than half past five, he sees the bakery from her instructions just below the large modern building Alma was kind enough to describe. She was right; the bakery is right across the street, he waits for the green man to light up to cross, shoving his hands in his pockets. The huge front windows of the establishment allow Harry to see her behind the till, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. She looks better than she did three weeks ago. He hesitates about going in for a few minutes, but feels it ought to be better than to lurk on the street.

Alma can feel his presence the moment he sets foot into the shop, her eyes are drawn to him and a content close lipped smile is the best greeting he could ask from her. The only customer in the place can feel the shift in the atmosphere when they lock eyes. So, picking up her bag full of baked goods, she steps out and leaves them alone.

"Sorry if I'm too early." He begins while she takes off her apron and hangs it in the back wall.

"You're right on time," Alma says after checking her watch, "I'm off Carlos, see you tomorrow!" She hollers to the employee that is taking a non-allowed nap in the back. Harry holds the door open for her and follows out of the warm store. "Shall we take the tube?" At his affirmative response, she then takes out her Oyster card and leads the way.

The café was not somewhere Alma expected Harry to go, the little shop with soothing music and simple stools full of the scent of organic coffee brewing is dazzling and unique. A bit like him, she thinks. She liked it. It reminded her of the places she used to frequent when she had recently moved into the city.

Harry orders a black coffee at the counter before asking Alma what she'd like.

"A cappuccino, and remember I'm paying for our food," she hands him a tenner that he reluctantly takes from her.

"Absolutely," he iterates the order to the woman behind the counter and adds two salted caramel cupcakes handing over the cash. "If you get a seat, I'll bring it over."

Alma thanks him before scampering across the room to sit at the back two seat table tucked in the corner. It was right beside the large back window, dimly lit. Before she sat, she removed her signature burgundy coat and Harry couldn't help his eyes being drawn to certain aspects of his companion. Nice arse, he remarked with a raise of his brows before the woman behind the counter tells him for the third time that his order is ready, a look of disdain as she probably caught his gaze. Giving her a sheepish smile to appease her, he manages to balance the two plates and mugs in his hands and walk over to the table.

"They asked if you wanted whipped cream or foam and I settled for foam, hope that's not a problem." He plonks himself on the seat across from her, removing his parka in a clumsy manner before hanging it in the back of the chair.

"No problem, I actually despise–

"Whipped cream, yeah, I kind of remembered what you told me about that birthday party of yours," the green eyed lad finishes for her and scratches the back of his neck. "You know with that dare..."

Her eyes flickered down to the cupcakes laid out before them and she started picking the caramel out of one, hoping to hide the nerves his words caused.

"Right enough, yeah... I can't believe you remembered that or that I told you about it." She chuckled nervously at the anecdote she chose to share with him, it was a bit inappropriate due to the amount of vomit around it, literally. But he shrugged with a charming smile. No big deal. "Nice place," she noted.

"I know it's a bit of a strange choice. It doesn't strike me as, you know, the kind of place you put so much effort into for a first date..." Harry stops talking and now his eyes meet the cupcake in front of him. "Bollocks I must have sounded so daft, I'm sorry." Lucky for him, she doesn't laugh, instead she reaches out to stroke his hand and give it a gentle squeeze.

"Nothing to be sorry about, I can be quite daft so..."

"I doubt that Miss suave." He gets a laugh out of her then, one that is almost a snort and earns a few glances from other customers.

"I’m far from it! Honestly, I once accidentally stepped on dog shit and didn't notice until my date couldn't bear the stink anymore and checked my shoe, in a very fancy restaurant. Terrible story. Trust me, I can be daft." Alma held up her hands and the musician giggled at her.

"Promise you won't laugh?" he raised an eyebrow at her, pleading. She promised. "Well, I kind of always wanted to have a first date here. It's always one of the first places I visit when I'm back in London, the food is amazing, and service is excellent. Came here completely hung-over after my twenty-first birthday party. I guess it has a lot of good memories." Pinked cheeks gave away Harry's embarrassment, he wanted to relax and for her to be more comfortable around him.

With a sincere smile Alma placed her hand over his resting on the table. "I think that is very sweet." This reply was not what he had expected; she leant in and beckoned him closer. "For your information Harry, this is exactly a great place for a first date." Up close he swore the darkness of her eyes were about to swallow him whole and spit him out to an alternate universe. He swallowed hard and took a sip of his coffee to distract himself a bit. Perhaps caffeine was not a good choice on a day where his heart was speeding so frequently.

"Did you have a good day today at work?" he asks with a familiarity that Alma can get used to.

"Yeah, had a bit of free time to plan my next video blog. It's been ages since I uploaded one." She bashfully admits. "This cupcake was delicious, a great flavour choice." And just like that they fall into easy conversation until their cups are drained. The place is almost empty around quarter to eight and they both know it's almost closing time –the death glances from the employees behind the counter gave it away. They put on their garments again before leaving.

Harry makes his way to the door expecting Alma to follow. Instead she first gathered up their mugs and plates, to place them neatly on the counter and thanked the three workers behind it with a genuine smile. Harry looked surprised; she didn't quite have to do that. She noticed.

"Just being polite," she stated the obvious, before walking under his arm that held open the door. He chose not to comment and fought back a smile.

They stood outside, not really sure of what to do next. Usually he would suggest going back to his place. It was near, but he watched her yawn discreetly and he suddenly remembered that she had a real job, well actually jobs in plural. He broke the silence.

"It was nice to see you again Alma." He meant it and she smiled as she toyed with the buttons of her coat. British summer weather was hardly cold, but today it seemed to be punishingly windy. Harry near gave a shiver, but instead took a deep breath before speaking again. It was now or never. "It'd be quite great, if I could... I'd like to see you again. Please." He shifted on one foot, nearly drowned in the silence that followed.

"I'd quite love to see you again," Harry gave a slight gulp, very slight and got out strength from the words she spoke to take a big risk, the first of today.

He stepped closer and cradled her face in his hands before leaning down and kissing her cheek. It wasn't the full on kiss he wanted to give her. But it is something he'd been dying to do since he first saw her today, something he hoped would make clear how attracted he was to her. Harry smelled like coffee and caramel. God this man's lips are prettier up close, she thought right before he straightened up.

She stayed close to him before speaking again. A low murmur so that the passing London traffic wouldn't steal her words from him.

"This was an amazing date."

Alma walked with him the long distance of one mile to the tube station, their hands brushing against each other. He was desperate to just hold hers, kiss her soft knuckles and ask about the lightning-shaped scar on her little finger. But decided against it, he knew that West Hampstead was not a common area for paparazzi, but he didn't want to risk her. Especially after the splendid afternoon they just shared.

They said their farewells.

"I'll call you," he said again. She warned that he better, before entering the station, he took great delight in watching her walk away from him, his gaze falling once more to her bum now covered by the coat. Harry spun on his heel and walked the short distance to his home.

Surely London could help him find the lyrics for that tune, this city definitely had something.

///

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///

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[seiya234]

the haunting of dipper pines

“At the end of the day, it was as easy as biting into an apple. 

The power lingered in him for only that day.

Henry lingered within him for far, far, far longer than that. 

(a land of deepest shade)

Willow told him once that the mind was like the ocean. 

There was the shore where people ran in and out of the water and onto land again. There were the waters where sunlight infiltrated, the waters where the more recognizable sea creatures lived. Even the twilight zone, where things began to get dark, still would occasionally burp up something recognizable.

Then there was the deep. The black. The vast expanse of the ocean floor where there was still so much unknown. And so much that would never be known. 

“Uh-”

Willow rolled her eyes at him. “So the shore is like, shallow currents. That’s where we dwell most of the time. And then the dark is where things you never think of, or don’t want to think of, or parts of you you don’t acknowledge- that’s where all that lives.”

“Sweetie,” Dipper began. “I... I don’t think that’s how minds work.”

“That’s how mine does.”

“Okay but your experience doesn’t-”

Dipper stopped. Willow’s eyes were cold, far too cold for a sixteen year old.

“Uncle Dipper, it’s a fucking metaphor.”

Willow never swore in front of him. He immediately dropped it. 

The worse of it was, he realized later that she was right. Because in his Shack, there were the places he spent the most time- the living room, the kitchen, the porch and front yard. There were the places he only occasionally went- his bedroom, stan’s office. 

And then there were the dark places. 

The basement. The apple tree.

Where there were gold bricks littered everywhere, lives once lived but forgotten with the weight of who he was now, and the motes of everyone he had ever eaten-

-“Boo,” said a far too familiar red headed face in front of him, before disappearing.-

-but he never had to pay attention to those.

----

(oh you’re going to lose control tonight) 

The first time was right after Ian’s surgery, when he was looking for some nightmares in the fridge, and out of the corner of his eye was a beautiful woman , antlers full of withered fruit and tiny white flowers. But for obvious reasons he had quite a lot on his mind, and it was easy to put down as a figment of his imagination-

-”Does your imagination come to life? Cause like, you live in imagination?” Mabel had asked. “Um. No...Yes... kind of?” Dipper responded. “But if something’s in there, it’s real now, one way or another-

-easily forgotten before going back out into the real world to deal with yet another disaster. 

But then the Flock began to complain about pulling up hanks of red hair amidst the grass. Cleanly cut severed hands and feet began appearing on the roof, out back, and on one memorable occasion in the dishwasher. Flannel shirts would appear on the back of the chairs in the kitchen and just as quickly disappear again. 

Thick rimmed glasses laying on the bathroom sink, that faded away just as Dipper would reach for them.

Late at night, aimlessly changing channels on the tv, watching the dreams of the multitude, and the smell of woodsmoke, slightly musty apples and mustier books, and an undercurrent of blood and sweat, the smell so strong that Dipper whipped around expecting to see Henry standing there right behind him, but he wasn’t he never was never would at least for another few centuries it was Dipper all alone...

Dipper settled back into the couch. He was alone, a part of him would always be alone, and while on any other night that would send him into an angst spiral but tonight it was kind of comforting.

Strong, care worn hands fell upon his shoulders, and Dipper knew without looking that one of the fingers would have a simple silver band with a little chunk of cubic zirconia, that the back of the right hand would have a scar from a cat scratch, that little red hairs poked up from the fingers...

the hands gave Dipper’s shoulders a squeeze and then they weren’t there.

They never were there. 

---

He began to see Henry.

Henry, opening the fridge, and vanishing.

Henry, chopping wood in the yard before vanishing.

Henry, digging under the couch for the remote before, wait for it, vanishing yet fucking again.

The first hundred times, Dipper thought he was imagining things.

The second hundred times, Dipper thought he was about to undergo yet another bad spell- perhaps all these apparitions were harbingers of what was to come? 

By the 347th apparition of Henry, Dipper finally was forced to accept that these... these motes. They were real.

They were Henry.

Or rather, they were parts of him. 

---

(for when you’re gone, i’m a severed soul)

Mabel and Henry’s room, oddly enough, didn’t carry quite the weight that one would imagine that it would. 

Because after that it had been Willow’s room, and then her great-granddaughter, and then Mike's and then...

Point being, so many people had lived in that room, made that the heart of their Shack, that the Mabel and Henry shine had worn off of it for the most part...

Except for the nights when he needed it to be their room. 

The nights when he needed to crawl under one of the many blankets Mabel had created over the years out of her old sweaters, sleep on top of the jersey sheets that Mabel loved but always pulled up and off the mattress, the pancake pillow that Henry slept on and the Pile of memory foam pillows and stuffed animals that Mabel used...

Nights where he would crawl into their bed and remember falling asleep between them, between them with the triplets mixed in there, between them and three to seven grandkids, and Henry’s weird cat that farted all the time, and then just the three of them again, at the end, grey hair and wrinkles and divots in the mattress. 

Nights where he wouldn’t sleep because he couldn’t sleep but he would just set his mind adrift, and do his best to Not Think for awhile. 

And now, nights where he would be in there, and feel the weight of an arm over his chest. Sometimes that arm was wearing an old Oregon State sweatshirt. Sometimes it was bare, showing freckled skin and red hair. And sometimes, some rare times, it was joined by the gentle sound of snoring in his ears, the tickle of hair against his forehead, a foot bumping into his. 

Dipper didn’t turn to see if he was there.

He never was.

-----

For awhile he didn’t acknowledge the motes; because surely they were only unknowing recordings of fleeting moments of time.

But time passed, on and on and on, and the fragments of Henry kept interrupting his solace, so finally Dipper began to talk to them.

They didn’t answer.

He told them about his day.

They didn’t answer.

He broke down in tears in front of them.

They didn’t answer. 

He screamed. 

They didn’t answer.

He raged.

They didn’t answer.

He gave up.

They didn’t answer.

Then one day when he was looking in the mirror, trying to lick some blood off his face, he saw Henry behind him once again.

“Why don’t I see Mabel like I see you?” Dipper asked him, not expecting an answer.

“Because you didn’t chew her soul into a thousand pieces,” Henry answered primly.

Dipper whirled around.

He was gone.

But now Dipper knew they could talk.

---

(from dust and ashes i have called you)

Footsteps upstairs again.

It wasn’t the Flock, Dipper knew that in his bones. He tried to not be a dick about it but... the Shack was his place, his sanctuary. The Flock were welcome to every other part of his mind but here.... here be dragons.

So it wasn’t the Flock. 

The footsteps paused, then turned around and began to walk again. From what it sounded like, they were headed towards the triplets’ old room.

Towards Dipper’s old room. 

He looked up and he could practically see each board of the ceiling ever so lightly wiggle as the steps walked across them. The steps got to the door of the triplets’ room, and then paused.

That pause was familiar; how many times did Henry go up to check on the kids when they were growing up? 

Pause. Then slowly walking back across the floor, headed towards the stairs down.

Dipper tensed on the couch. Would this-

The wood on the stairs began to creak.

Then it faded as it got to the stairs in Dipper’s eyeshot.

Then the footsteps were gone. 

----

After the first time, Dipper began to see Henry in various reflective surfaces. Never for very long, but it was enough to begin a conversation.

“Is it really you?” Dipper asked Henry in his coffee one morning.

“I mean, yes, but I could just as easily still be a figment of your imagination,” Henry replied a few weeks later from the window pane.

“I don’t remember you being this rude when you were alive,” Dipper said primly into his pot of soup. Said rudeness did also put a point into his theory that all of these Henry-visions were hallucinations on his part.

From the blackness of the switched off tv, Henry primly responded, “I apologize for my crankiness, but it’s been a rough century.” 

Dipper couldn’t argue with that.

Time passed.

“I’ve eaten untold numbers of souls,” Dipper said to the Henry who was lurking in the bathroom mirror. “What makes yours different?”

“Because I am special to you,” a Henry sitting on his porch reading a book replied a month later.

“Because you started to pay attention and now you’re looking for me,” another Henry cooking in the kitchen said a year later.

“Because,” and this was Henry’s breath hot in his ear, “Because you are so very lonely.”

----

(so pale so cold so fair)

There were the motes of Henry that were actually awake and aware, that spoke to him, even for the briefest moment. 

But more often, the fragments of Henry’s soul showed up as little repeating events, flashes of the life that Henry lived in the Shack.

So Dipper would go to get something from the vending machine basement door, and look and see Henry assisting an invisible patron, a book in his hand.

Henry, vacuuming a rug and talking in such a way that Dipper knew it was Stan on the other end. 

Henry, running through the living room, chasing three little stars that were long gone by now.

Henry, swinging on the porch swing, holding Mabel’s hand, but he wasn’t holding Mabel’s hand, he was holding fucking air, just like he was nothing but fucking air-

(he took the porch swing down for seventy two years after that, putting it back again when he had finally forgotten why he had taken it down in the first place.)

----

He was trying to figure out which ascot color was better when Henry appeared from behind in the bathroom mirror. 

Dipper didn’t bother to look back, knowing from bitter experience that like Eurydice Henry would only disappear.

“I.. I feel...you got two minutes Dip,” the Henry behind him said. 

Dipper froze. Two minutes. That was nothing. That was forever.

“Uh. How do you feel?”

“Hm. Kind of like the very essence of who I am was broken into literally millions of tiny shards of being, and that I only have the briefest flashes of consciousness before fading away again-”

“Uh.”

“It’s surprisingly hard work coalescing back into a regular soul, did you know that?”

“I mean yes? but-”

The Henry in the mirror was now right behind him, looming over him. His flannel was gone and now he was only wearing a worn black t-shirt, the kind that came in packs in Wal-mart. 

“I’m scattered. I’m missing. I’m missed. And then before that-”

Paloma glared at him in the mirror.

“I was tortured to death and then they took my soul, they broke and twisted me and grew a tree from me and they broke me so how the fuck do you think I’m doing?”

They stared at each other for a second. Then it was just Henry again, and he sighed.

“I’m sorry Dipper. That wasn’t fair. It’s been a long-”

He was gone.

Dipper didn’t see another Henry for five years.

---

(where did you sleep last night?)

He began to remember things that he had long forgotten.

Obviously, he prioritized henry and mabel and stan and kids memories above all else but well, he was old. He had countless friends and family now, lived untold numbers of lives, hadn’t had a second to rest, reset, renew-

So while he remembered quite a lot of that most precious time, he began to remember-

-watching the kids’ play at school and Henry having to sit in the last row because he was so tall....

-hiding behind the couch while some terrible movie Acacia picked was on and Henry, reading and smiling self indulgently...

-dinner at Greasy’s with Henry and that one documentarian, what was his name again? Oh yeah, James! 

-kneeling on the floor, praying loudly because apparently those were the only prayers that counted-

(wait)

-dad’s hand shoving the kitten into the sack, shouting incoherently at him while he cried, knowing what was going to happen next

(wait)

-his girlfriend’s brother, reaching into his chest and grabbing his soul, taking it to his mouth-

(w͓̜̙͈ a̬̯̘͙̯͎ ì̬̤ ṭ͟)

He began to remember things that he had long forgotten...and he began to see things that he had never knew in the first place.

-----

He had a million things he wanted to tell Henry when he finally appeared to Dipper again but the first thing he managed was “I think you’re bleeding into me.”

“Huh,” said the empty flannel shirt that was laid over the back of the porch swing. “I guess we should have expected that.”

Dipper tensed for the shirt to disappear, but no it was still there, so he went on. “I guess it’s kind of fitting. You know. Because of-” Dipper waved the head over his head, and was relieved that the empty shirt chuckled.

“Oh yeah, that. Remember when I wasn’t able to read what I wrote for a month?”

“Yup.” 

The silence stretched. Dipper realized he was waiting for an apology.

“I’m not going to apologize,” the shirt said. “I thought about it- and I could have said all that better. But I’m done apologizing.”

There was a pause. There was a roar in Alcor’s chest- Henry had been rude! Henry had hurt his feelings, his feelings!- but Dipper ignored it, because if he gave in to it.

Something precious would be irrevocably broken. Maybe future Henrys wouldn’t know it, but Dipper would, always and forever. 

So instead he smiled and only said, “Water under the bridge.”

“Good.” Then the shirt disappeared.

But Dipper felt like he would see it again sooner rather than later. 

----

(all the trees of the field will clap their hands)

The Shack began to come alive again...no. Wait.

Not quite. Not quite alive. More the pale imitation of the already pale imitation that was in Dipper’s mind. 

But

There were the sounds of a house lived in. A toilet flushing, the washing machine on a rough spin cycle, clatter of fork and knife on plate... 

The temperature would drop at night and the windows would rattle as if they were being opened- Henry always liked to keep it cold at night when he slept- and rise in the day- because Stan would go around closing all the windows and refusing to turn on the AC to save money... 

It began to feel like Dipper was constantly walking into rooms that people had just left. A turn into the kitchen, and there would be dirty plates and cups on the table, with scraps of unfinished food. The bathroom would be fogged up, with a wet towel hanging to dry and condensation on the mirror. Muddy shoes, the mud still wet on the soles, left on the porch in front of the door. 

The TV turned to the informercials you got after the cartoons died at three am when he walked in, a bowl of popcorn kernels next to the couch, and he had been so close, so close, so fucking close-

But at the end of the day it was just Dipper, out of sync with a reality that had long left him behind.

----

finally, finally they began to just talk. to be.

Conversations began and ended mid-sentence, and it didn’t matter if a year or five or fifty or a hundred had passed, but they began them effortlessly once more.

Here and now, Dipper had Henry all to himself, and they talked and talked, unraveling each memory they had made together, good and bad. Unraveling each one, savoring it, getting the other’s point of view.

Here and now, Dipper had Henry all to himself, unbothered by the passing of time outside of their minds. They talked about the kids. The kids and the grandkids and the great-grandkids, and all the great-great-grandkids that Henry never had a chance to know. 

Here and now, Dipper had Henry all to himself, in a way that he never could have any of his family, because Henry didn’t leave him to get reincarnated, couldn’t leave him for another life, and now all they had was time. Time for Henry to read all the books of the world through the resources of Dipper’s memory, time for infinite amounts of stuttering conversations and bread and apple pies that Dipper hadn’t tasted in eons left on the stove for him. 

But there was one subject that neither of them were ready to broach, and Dipper hoped they never did.

----

(maybe i will always haunt you)

“You know this isn’t going to last forever, right?”

Dipper turned around.

There was no one there.

----

“I think I’m almost done.”

Dipper didn’t say anything because he knew it was true. Henry was able to appear to him for longer and longer periods of time, looking more and more complete. 

“There’s... there’s something I feel a pull to, I think that’s my next life.” 

Dipper still didn’t say anything.

“Look, please tell me you aren’t going to spend whatever we time we have left together giving me the silent treatment.”

Finally, Dipper spoke. “I’m not giving you the silent treatment.” 

Henry peeped over the tops of his glasses and gave him The Look and oh yes, his soul really was close to being reunited. 

“You know... you know I have to go right?”

“Yeah.”

“And that it’s not good for me to stay like this indefinitely?”

“Yeah.”

“And that petulance is unbecoming in a man of your age? “Henry!” 

The redheaded man smirked. “There we go. Now are we actually going to talk about how you feel or what?”

Dipper grimaced. Ugh. Emotional honesty. 

But he did manage to say, “I’m not ready for you to go.” 

Henry sighed. “I know. I’ll admit, I’m not entirely ready to leave either.”

“Then stay.”

“I can’t. I miss them.” He didn’t have to say who it was he missed because Dipper missed the same people.

“I...I could m̫͓̝̳͓̘ḁ̞͍̘͇͓k͙͉̥e̮̰̗̦̺̫̞ you stay.”

Henry smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile, and his shadow began to stretch, the air around his head growing heavy, and the smell of blood filled Dipper’s nose. “You could try.”

The tension rose in Dipper, and then just as easily, faded away. “Yeah I could couldn’t I.”

Part of him still wanted to rage and scream, to get into a long, drawn out fight with Henry, to wail and gnash and exclaim how unfair it was to Henry, to the world.

But the world had changed, and Dipper, somehow, had changed along with it. He was older now. And he had had Henry all to himself for a millennium. 

He had had to eat Henry’s soul out of sheer desperation, to save his brother from further torture, a twisted gift to grant him the power to destroy a den of evil....

But this time, this span, had been a gift in its own right as well.

“Are you mad at me?”

“About what?”

“About... about what I did?”

Henry thought about it for a minute, giving the question the weight it deserved.

“I was a little upset, yes, for about fifty years. Because it did... hurt. Losing myself. Trying to piece myself back together. But deep down, I was never mad at you Dipper. I understood, understand.”

Henry grabbed Dipper’s hand. “And if you remember, I told you to do it as well.”

Another time, there may have been some sobbing, some crying about absolution and lack of deserving, and gnashing of teeth and rending of metaphorical hair.

But Dipper was older. And things changed.

And this time had been a gift, so instead he contented himself to let the conversation slip to lighter topics, to relish the little time he had left with Henry.

---

(and see the flaming skies!)

one day he came home and he was alone.

#transcendence au #seiya writes!

[smol-and-grumpy]

Something Just Like This - CH17

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester, mobster boss. He’s a little cocky, a lot ruthless and more often than not, short tempered. But he’s also, Dean Winchester, a war veteran and hero who suffers under a shit ton of PTS. He met her in a bar and thinks it’s fate that brought her to him. Little does he know why she’s really here.

Warning: NSFW

WC: 3184

SERIES MASTERLIST

Dean wakes up before she does. He lets her sleep, walks out of the room quietly to make some coffee. He feeds the cat, actually wants to fix up breakfast but he doesn’t know how long she’ll be sleeping so he abandons the thought. Instead, he sits down and waits until the time will be reasonable enough to wake her up.

It’s when he sits down at the counter of his kitchen and takes the first sip of his coffee that he thinks that this is it. 

It’s exactly what it should feel like. A simple morning. Waking up, making coffee, and he’s able to share all of it with someone. 

He’s able to share it with her.

If someone would ask him what love feels like, he’d say it’s something just like this.

He really did want to take a picture last night. Was taken aback by the beauty of her in his bed. Blissed out and spit slick, cheeks so pink it matches the color of her cunt. His cum glistening and running out of her pussy. It was perfect.

Of course she didn’t let him. Because apparently, that’s creepy.

He walks to his other bathroom, takes a quick shower there so as not to wake her up because this way, he doesn’t have to walk through the bedroom. 

*

After the shower, he walks around with no shirt and no underwear because he forgot to grab it before he left the room. Now he’s in only his sweatpants. Dean takes his phone, thumbs at his messages. Cas texted that the schedule is full for people watching Jo and Dean didn’t have to go in, and it’s kind of a relief because he’ll have more time with her. 

It’s almost 1PM when he thinks that he maybe should go see if she’s still alive. Dean’s awake for a long while now and he starts to get restless. He’s wondering if it was okay for him to go back to bed, cozying himself up against her but he really doesn’t want to wake her up, doesn’t know if she might get grumpy and if yes, he doesn’t want to be the reason. 

He’s only slept 4 hours, tops. But it felt like ten. He’s in a surprisingly good mood and not tired at all.

The cat’s already nuzzling around by the door, as if he knows that Dean wants to go in there.

As soon as Dean opens the door, the cat’s already on the bed and lies down next to her. 

“Traitor.” Dean whispers. “I should kick you out.”

The cat ignores Dean like it always does, and licks at her fingers instead. He lets the cat licks her awake and walks to the bathroom to draw a bath.

Walking out, she sees Y/N smiling at him. “Hey,”

“Hi,” He can’t stop the beating of his heart, and has long given up on calming it down.

He climbs in next to her, spoons her from behind and kisses her neck. “How are you feeling? Slept alright?”

“Yeah,” Her hand strokes the cat behind its ear. “And you?” She tilts her head back and he props himself on his elbow to look at her. “Nightmares?”

He kisses her forehead, smiles a little. “None.”

She smiles back at him, turns around in his grip, her arms around his body and he pulls her close to his chest. 

“Are you sore?”

“A little.”

“Come on,” He pulls her even closer to his chest, rolls with her until they’ve reached the edge of the bed. He picks her up, still wrapped in the sheets and walks to the bathroom with her draped over his shoulder. 

She’s laughing wholeheartedly. What a beautiful thing to hear.

Dean drops her off, unwraps her from the sheets and helps her into the bath, careful not to take a better look because he’s half hard already. He doesn’t wanna do anything, not if she’s sore. And it’s hard, so fucking hard to resist. Never thought he’d have it in him, never thought he could have this much control over himself.

Y/N sits down in the bath, the foam reaches her throat and he turns the water off. “You're not coming in?” She looks at him a little disappointed, and god dammit, his self control is crumbling.

He kneels next to the tub, bracing his hands on the ledge. “I already took a shower. And it’s better that way. I have control over myself out here, can’t guarantee anything if I get in there.”

She grins, it’s all cocky and it’s not fair that it suits her. “I mean, I don’t mind.”

“Christ,” He exhales, rubs his palm over his face and then he has an inner battle with himself. Common sense wins. “No, you’re sore. You stew in your bath. I’ll be waiting outside.” It takes every ounce in him not to jump right in but someone has got to be reasonable here. Never in his mind would Dean have thought that the reasonable one would be him, though.

She pouts. And that’s not fucking fair either.

“I’ll just ignore you,” He says and stands up. 

Her eyes are glued to his crotch and she bites her lips. 

“My god you’re killing me.” He says, bends down to kiss her forehead. “I’ll be outside.”

He walks out, leaving her and it’s hard, so hard to walk away when all he wants to do is stay. There’s a perfect naked girl sitting in his tub, asking him if he wanted to join and he just fucking walks away. The old Dean certainly wouldn’t. But the old Dean also never felt these fucking feelings and it takes every ounce of self control in him not to get in and fuck her stupid. 

Dean gets dressed, wearing underwear, new slacks, new dress shirt. Pulls out a matching jacket to his dress pants, wonders if he should let her choose a tie for him, abandons the thought because he decided not to wear one today. He doesn’t have a meeting where he needs one. Just the usual rounds of checking on products and resellers. If anything he’d probably need a hazmat suit to protect his suit from blood and product stains. He’s got to still find a way to tell her that he’s gonna be out of town for a day or two, though.

He makes the bed, but the cat doesn’t even budge, still lying in the warmth she’s left. Dean can’t blame him, it’s what he would love to do, too. Nonetheless he stares the cat down, “You know that you’re not allowed in here.” 

The cat yawns, lifts his head and sends him a deadpan look as if to challenge Dean. As if he wants to say So? Whatchu gonna do about it, huh?

Dean rolls his eyes and walks out, stops at the bathroom door in passing. “You want breakfast?” 

“You’re making breakfast?” She asks in return, and looks at him, her hands on her head as she massages shampoo into her hair. 

God, would it really be bad to take a picture?

“Omelettes.” He says, leans against the door frame and purses his lips to a grin, feels a little proud of his cooking skills. 

“Sounds perfect.” She says and he nods at that. 

He doesn’t dare to walk in because his self control is held together by an extra thin wire at the sight. Her tits are above the water and foam, looks fucking inviting as they jingle when she washes her hair. 

*

She sits down at the counter and Dean serves her omelette, adding three strips of bacon onto her plate and three on his. He’d had more but he ended up eating them while he waited for her. 

“I feel spoiled.” She says, taking a bite out of a strip of bacon. 

Dean pours her coffee and orange juice and sits beside her to eat with her. “Well, you’re a princess. A bratty one, but still…” 

He sees her cheek turn pink. Cutest little thing. 

“What are your plans for today?” Dean asks, he’s just curious, is hoping that he maybe can spend some time with her. 

“Was thinking about going to the gym or jogging in the park.” 

“I have a gym in the bunker.” He says, his ears are burning a little because he’s blushing and he thinks she sees through him. Knows that he suggested it because he wants to spend more time with her, “We could go there. Do some sparring.” 

“I don’t have any gym gear with me.” 

“You don’t need them for sparring.” 

She grins then, “I don’t have any underwear.”

Dean couldn’t hide the irritation that built in his throat and it came out as a groan. He stands up abruptly, takes their empty plates, mugs and glasses and places them into the machine, cleans his hand and walks up behind her. He braces his hands on the counter, lowers his face so his mouth is next to her ear.  

“Let’s go buy some.” 

He places a kiss on her temple, couldn’t not do it, is drawn to her and feels the need to touch her when she’s close. She tilts her head to look up at him, rolls her eyes and he just winks.

Dean has parked his car at the curb, and gets out. Today is an Impala kind of day, apparently. Y/N gets out too, doesn’t wait for him to open up for her but he walks around the front hastily, holds the door open wider until she’s out completely. 

She looks at the store they parked at. It’s a high end lingerie store and she swallows. A bra probably costs more than she makes in a month at her bartending job. 

He slams the door to his car close, stands here and holds out his hand for her to take. 

She does but shakes her head, “We can’t go in there.” 

The store’s busy. There’s always coming and going, mostly the customers are women. Good looking women. Women who are dressed properly. Not in a faded out stone washed jean skirt and a white shirt with alcohol stains on it. 

“Why not?” He asks, and she feels that he’s a little offended that she thinks his idea of a store might not match hers.

“Look at you!” Y/N says and Dean looks down to himself. “You’re looking like a perfect walking ad for some expensive perfume and then there’s me. I look like I just came out of a very rough frat party where I did more rounds of beer pongs than I could take.” She makes a frustrating sound in her throat.

Dean’s grip on her hand tightens and he throws his head back, laughing out loud. People on the streets are already staring, which makes this even more uncomfortable. 

She looks down at her toes. Yeah, she also wears boots. And all the women going in and out of the store wore pretty high heels. “And my boots.”

“Hey, at least you didn’t wear cowboy boots.” Dean winks at her, a grin on his face like the little shit he is. 

“Shut up.” She pouts deliberately, kind of knows what effect it has on him. 

“Hey,” He pushes his fingers under her chin, tilts her head up. “We’ll be alright. Do you think it’s easy for me to go in there? If people will stare, they will stare at me.” 

And maybe he’s right… but still. 

“I have this big hickey on my throat.”

Dean raises an eyebrow at that, “So?”

“They’ll think you’re my sugar daddy.” She mumbles. 

Dean grins, kisses her pout. “Do you want me to be your sugar daddy?” 

Her eyes widened and he chuckles before he adds, “Just saying, sweetheart. At this point, I’m ready to be whatever you want me to be.”

He takes her hand, ignores the red in her cheeks and pulls her towards the entrance of the store.

*

“Dean, I can’t try anything on, I’m not wearing underwear.” She whispers, as he ushers her to the back where the changing rooms are situated. 

“We’ll just have to buy everything you try on.” He says as if it’s no fucking big deal. 

Ugh.

Dean leads her into a changing room, sits right in front of it as a woman comes around to ask what they want. Dean takes the lead, telling her to bring a ton of different panties in Y/N’s size.

Soon the stack arrives and she closes the curtain to the changing room, Dean’s grinning smugly. Before the curtain closes, she sees him taking out his phone, is sure that he’s going to probably do some work when she tries things on. 

She tries a pink lace panty first, quite likes it because it’s different from the lace she buys. Some expensive shit, she guesses. She glances at the price tag, and suddenly feels very nauseous because she’s not gonna make him spend so much money on freaking fabric. 

But she figured that since she’s already wearing this pair, she might as well keep it on because there’s no way the store’s going to take it back. She peeks through the curtain, calling Dean to come in. 

He raises an eyebrow, pockets his phone back into his pants and slips in like it’s no big deal, even when people are watching. 

Dean sits on the leather seat in the too big changing room and leans his back against the wall. “What’s wrong?”

She had already put on her skirt over the panties. “I can’t let you buy these. Have you seen the price tags?” Her fingers point at the stack of panties which she didn’t even touch yet.

“Don’t worry about it.” Dean brushes it off like it’s really not a big fucking deal.

“Well, I’m already wearing one, so I guess you have to buy this.” She lifts up her skirt to show it to him. 

“Christ, Y/N.” Dean lets out, his eyes fall on the curtain, sees that it’s secured, so he turns his face back to her and in the next breath he talks, his voice a little deeper, “Lose the skirt. I wanna see.”

She loses the skirt, steps out of it and turns around. There’s a mirror in front of her. She pulls her panties up on the side. Looking into the mirror, she sees Dean looking at her ass, his hands coming up to knead her cheeks.

“Fucking perfect,” He spanks both her cheeks with both of his big hands and she has to bite down on her bottom lip so as not to make a sound. 

“Come here,” He pats his thighs and she’s about to climb in but then he says “No, turn around. Feet on my knees, head on my shoulder.” 

She does what he’s telling her, feels a little weird since they’re in public.

“Look at you,” Dean whispers next to her ear, his nose nudging at her cheeks. She knows now what he’s talking about, sees their reflection in the mirror. 

His finger finds the seam of the crotch of her panties, pulls them aside, revealing her pussy that’s indeed so fucking soaked already. He takes her in, watches her through the mirror, but he doesn’t touch her where she aches for him. Instead, he lets his finger wander, strokes the back of her thighs, up and down, slowly. 

Too fucking slow. 

“Dean,” It came out whiny, she doesn’t even care. 

“You want me to touch you?” His voice drops, it’s barely a whisper next to her ear. 

“Uh-huh,” 

“Uh-huh? Right here in this changing room? Where everyone could come in and see you?” 

He cups her pussy with his right hand and she gasps. 

Dean chuckles, the pad of his fingers rubs at her clit and she closes her eyes. “No, baby,” He says, his voice is strained, she feels the bulge underneath her ass. “I want you to look at yourself. Such a beautiful sight.”

She opens her eyes, her lids are heavy. 

“You’re so wet,” He whispers. “Does it feel good, huh?” 

“Yea—” The word gets chopped off, because he pushes two fingers inside. “—Fuck.” 

“Good girl,” Dean says, “So responsive.” He curves his fingers just right, but avoids going too deep. 

She thinks it’s because he thinks she’s still sore and partly because she might squirt and that would be really messy.

He rubs at her clit with three of the fingers of his left hand while he fucks her steadily with his right hand, all the while whispering to her.

“You like that, don’t you? Knowing that someone could walk in on us and see me fucking you with my fingers.” 

It’s a turn on she’s ashamed to admit. 

“My god, my fingers are drenched. I think you dripped onto my pants. Not gonna change them, though. Gotta walk around let people see how wet you were for me,” He sucks in her earlobe and she let out a broken moan.

“Gotta be quiet, baby.” 

Y/N nods, biting down on her lips. 

“Yeah, good girl.” He says, nosing at the back of her ear and it sends chills throughout her body. “Can you come for me? You’re close, I can feel it.” 

“Uh-huh,”

“Uh-huh? Come and look at yourself, I want you to see what I see when I look at you. Want you to see how beautiful you look when you come undone.” 

“K-keep on rubbing.” She manages to whisper. “Just like that, yes..”

Dean chuckles, rubs her faster. 

She comes with a shriek and Dean rubs and fucks her through it, holding her up by literally the tips of his fingers as she writhes above him. 

“You’re fucking amazing.” He’s breathing hard himself, and she tilts her head, looking him in his darkened eyes. 

He kisses her, deep, messy and just perfect. 

After a while he pulls his fingers out of her, the squelching sound loud in the room and she can’t hold back the whine she lets out. He stands up then, helping her back onto her feet, holds her to him when he sees that she’s still struggling. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, thanks.” She looks up and he’s smiling before he helps her take off the pair of pink lace panties she’s wearing. He lets her get out of them before bending down to pick them off the floor and proceeds to clean the mess between her legs with them. 

“Dean!” She scolds.

He shrugs, “Gotta pay them anyway?” Then he adds, “Right, I gotta wait outside before I’m doing something I’m not supposed to do in here. And shut up, I know that we weren’t supposed to do what we just did either. You pick out the ones you want, okay?” 

She nods, and watches him tear at the price tag on the lace underwear before letting the fabric slip into the pocket of his suit jacket. He winks before he steps out, and to say that she blushes is an understatement. Her face is on fire.

CH18

#something just like this #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x you #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester smut #mobster!dean #nathalie writes

[waywardodysseys]

Mercy - Oneshot

Pairing: Ezra x female reader

Warnings: violence, torture, blood, cussing, SMUT, unprotected sex (wrap it up), female oral receiving, angst, begging

Requested?: Yes from this ask - Can we get something, either Ezra or Tovar (they don't get nearly enough love, but you are certainly making up for it with Ezra so thank you) where they've been missing and you find them being slightly tortured. You save them, you work together or at least used to, and when they are fixed it turns NSFW?

Author’s note: special shoutout to @mug-nificent​ (you know why!); pic is from a gif by @lucy-sky; Anon - this turned out differently for various reasons, reasons I am not willing to discuss...

~   ~   ~

Oruf grabs the poker from the burning flame then approaches Ezra.

“Where is she?” Oruf’s voice is filled with anger.

Ezra pants as his eyes watch the iron stick glow orange. “None of your fucking business!”

Oruf presses the poker against Ezra’s side. He smiles as the man with the patch of blond hair screams out in agony.

Ezra pants heavily, “I, I will, never tell you!”

“Then keep enduring the pain digger, and eventually you won’t be able to take it,” Oruf smiles wickedly, “you’ll die from the burns. And she will be left alone on the Green. And my men will claim her!”

Ezra uses the strength he has, to spit in the man’s face. “She won’t let herself be found. She’s too clever for you!”

Oruf returns the poker to the flame. He holds his hand out. He wraps his fingers tightly around the needle nose pliers when he feels them against his skin and kneels in front of Ezra.

Ezra’s chest is heaving as his dark brown eyes look at the worn leathered looking face of the man in charge. Ezra knows he will never tell them where the tent is. He doesn’t want them to have you. Ezra knows what they’ll do to you. You are in his charge, you are under his care, his protection.

Oruf yanks on Ezra’s wounded arm. “You came to us, asked us for help.”

Ezra hisses. The pain is seeping into his bones. He knows the arm must go, will need to go. “Just do it!”

Oruf stabs the open wound on Ezra’s arm. He turns the needle nose pliers slowly, causing blood to flow from the wound and down Ezra’s arm.

Ezra shouts in agony as the pain rolls through his body and into his old bones.

He’s enduring this for you, and he knows you don’t care for him much, practically not at all. But after this, when he makes his way back to you, he hopes you do.

-------

Your mind is playing games on you, or you think it is, because for a split second you hear a scream off in the distance. You freeze as your eyes dart around you in the fading light. Your heartrate progressively revs up as your breathing becomes faster.

Ezra’s been missing for a couple of days. At least two sleeps. You’ve been keeping count. Your mind nags at you to find him but you mustn’t, you can’t. You know they have him.

The men who tried to buy you with a case of colorful gems. You had despised Ezra after that, loathed him was more of a better word. You loathed Ezra, yet deep down you knew, eventually, you’d have to venture out and find him.

Why did you have to be paired with such an asshole?

You hurriedly pack your tools then grab the supply bag. You get as far from where you are as quick as you can. You don’t need to be on the Green in the middle of the night, not able to find your way back to the red tent you and Ezra had been sharing for months on end because the two of you had stuck on this alien moon since the landing pod had malfunctioned upon entering the Green’s atmosphere.

“Well fuck me!” Ezra had boasted when the both of you examined the pod further.

You had sneered at his remark and rolled your eyes.

You had disliked him then and now you loathed him. Next you were going to wish he was burning in hell. Part of you was thinking about him burning in hell even though you had no idea he was being tortured clicks away with heat from burning flames.

-------

Ezra groans as he awakens. He then yelps in pain as another man presses the burning hot poker against his severed arm.

“Fuck!” He screams as his body trembles with pain and beads of sweat roll over his flesh.

“Cauterizing a wound,” the young accented male voice remarks.

“Well it goddamn fucking hurts,” Ezra seethes.

The boy snorts, “no med bays or hospitals old man. Will have to suffice with the old way of doing things.”

“You seem nice enough,” Ezra mumbles out, “you could let me go.”

The boy glances up then back down, “we need the woman. Give us the woman. We let you go.”

Ezra groans as another poker is pressed against the discombobulated flesh of his amputated arm. “Never. You all will abuse her and mishandle her.”

“Like you have?”

“I have never fucking laid a hand on her!” Ezra seethes as pain begins to boil his blood.

He’s wanted you, yes. But he hasn’t touched you even though he craves you. And even though Ezra knows you don’t want him in return, he still thinks about you in the middle of the night when his hand wraps around his cock.

Ezra will not let these men have you, even this boy. This boy wouldn’t even know how to pleasure you like he would be able to.

“Let me go boy,” Ezra grounds out, “tell them I got the upper hand.”

The boy smiles and shakes his head, “you do have a hand. But no, give us the female. Then you can go.”

“Fucking never,” Ezra’s sigh is heavy and full of frustration.

-------

In the morning light you watch men in black uniformed spacesuits walk the perimeter of the tan tented camp. Smoke bellows from circular chimneys as you walk forward through the thicket of grass. Both of your hands are on the rifle. You twist them around the metal in fear, in anxiety.

You still don’t believe you are going to do this. You’re going to rescue Ezra. You are going to rescue the goddamn asshole because last night while sitting in the tent it had been too quiet, and you had actually cussed yourself out when you realize you missed his deep drawl of a voice and those brown eyes giving you looks of bewilderment and eagerness to please.

You had thought about those looks, wondered if Ezra knew you weren’t a fan of his. Yet deep down you knew you had to do something. He wouldn’t let you rot away while these men did unspeakable acts to you.

You grip the rifle tighter and make your approach.

*

The rifle is pointed against Oruf’s worn leathered face. His eyes look up into yours.

“He doesn’t deserve rescuing,” Oruf sneers.

You grin, “I fucking know he doesn’t but he’s still my partner. I’m the one who has to deal with him.”

“Leave him to die. He’d done the same to you.”

Your finger is pressed lightly against the trigger. You killed three men on the way in here. You aren’t afraid to pull it again to add to the death count.

“Give me the asshole,” you hiss.

Oruf is quiet as he assesses you. He sighs in defeat then points towards his left.

“Bring the man,” Oruf’s voice is deflated.

Silence stretches as Ezra hobbles out from behind a curtain. He’s using a young boy as a crutch.

You take him in.

He’s battered, weak. He’s missing an arm. And you know his body is riddled with bruises.

You walk over to him and take his fragile body from the young boy’s. You wrap his one arm around your shoulders as you keep the rifle on Oruf.

“No one follows us,” you ground out, “I’m sure you don’t need more men dead.”

Oruf moves his hands in a surrendering motion. “Just go.”

You make your way out of the tent with Ezra. Hobbling your way through the greenery of the moon. Your heart is fast, and your breathing is heightened because you need to put distance between the group of men and you and Ezra. You make sure to check your six, making sure no one is following you. Thankfully no one is.

You finally make it back to the red tent. Getting Ezra inside and on a bunk before you zip the tent closed and unhook your helmet. Once you are rid of your helmet and spacesuit, you strip Ezra of his own helmet.

His eyes are closed but you can see the up and down movement of his chest.

You reach for his suit and stop. You must see what they’ve done; you need to see.

You reach for his suit again and begin to slowly roll it down his body. You don’t notice any purple or yellowing bruising. You notice burnt flesh on his side. Your eyes take in the amputated arm. The flesh is mangy yet cauterized.

Ezra’s skin is hot to the touch once you have the suit and boots off his body. You grab the med kit and begin applying a burn salve to Ezra’s burns. You yank your hands back as he groans but keep going as he moans incoherently.

You shouldn’t be giving a shit about him, but you know he needs to heal, needs the med treatment so he doesn’t die of infection or anything else.

“Fucking asshole,” you mumble under your breath as you begin applying another layer of the burn salve on his hot flesh.

“Y/N,” he utters.

“Trying to keep you alive Ezra. Don’t know why though,” you retort as you set aside the burn salve.

You reach for the bacta spray and scissors. Also making sure you have thread and needle in case you need to do any patching on his amputated arm.

“Going to apply bacta spray Ezra.”

Ezra groans, “pain medicine.”

“Later.”

Ezra groans and sighs, “now.”

You roll your eyes and grab the pain medicine. “Naproxen will have to do. Your body is hot. You have a fever.”

“Says the doctor.”

“Says the person saving your fucking life,” you hiss.

You fill a syringe of naproxen, making sure you give him the right dose. You stick the needle in his other arm.

“Goddamn,” Ezra hisses and mumbles.

“Shut up while I try to make sure you don’t die of an infection,” you retort as you take out the needle.

“Yes ma’am,” Ezra drawls as he sighs and feels the pain medicine begin to roll through his body.

You sigh as you begin applying the bacta spray to his amputated arm. While it foams you put on a pair of gloves and rub the foam into the wound, hoping the medicine will seep in and heal him. Hoping it will save him from dying.

You can’t be on this moon alone with no way back to the station.

-------

You spend the next couple of days making sure Ezra stays hydrated and fed. You also make sure to check the burn wounds on his side and his amputated arm. The burn wounds are healing from the burn salve. The flesh on his arm is pink with no signs of infection. Part of you grateful you paid attention in those damn medical classes you had to take aboard the station.

He watches you with his dark brown eyes. He takes in your Y/H/C hair, your tired Y/E/C eyes. He wonders how he became a burden to you because to Ezra you are treating him as though he is one.

“Talk to me,” he whispers.

You look over at him, “about what?”

“Your disdain for me.”

You raise your eyebrows.

Ezra laughs and then coughs, “guess I’m right. You do have disdain for me.”

“Let’s not talk about it,” you whisper.

“I never told them where this tent is,” Ezra hisses.

“I figured as much Ezra. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

“Those men would’ve done unspeakable things to you. Passed you around, used you, abused you.”

“You think I don’t fucking know that Ezra?!” You nearly shout at him as you stand.

Ezra musters his strength and stands on his two feet. As he takes a step forward, he stumbles.

You catch him and fall onto a bunk. You groan under his weight. He’s heavy and his shirtless chest is not helping. Your fingers itch to touch his skin but you must resist.

Ezra pins you down against the bunk. He grinds his groin against yours. His mouth turns into a grin as he watches you bite your lip. He knows you felt his hard cock. He was hard the moment he pinned your body under his.

“I need you,” Ezra grounds out as he rolls his hips once more.

“Ezra,” you half moan, half whisper as your core floods with heat.

“Y/N,” Ezra whisper as he leans down and captures your mouth with his. He risked his life, and limb, for you.

His mouth is rough against your soft mouth as the hairs from his mustache and chin scrape against your skin. You reach up and run your hands down his back. Your fingers dig into his flesh as you feel his hard cock against your core through the cloth material of your pants. You moan as you picture him thrusting his cock inside of you.

You hadn’t thought of Ezra as a means of sexual release. You didn’t care for him. You didn’t need him. And now, your body’s betraying you by wanting him.

You pull back and move out from underneath him.

“What have I done?” Ezra frowns.

“I don’t want you,” you hiss as you try to stand as far away as possible.

Ezra smirks, “your body’s telling me otherwise.”

Fuck, your mind screams as you turn away and cross your arms.

“Please,” Ezra begs, “I will do anything for you. Anything to get in your good graces, and between those legs. Anything. Please.”

You keep your back towards him.

“You want me to go back and risk it all for you? I will.” Ezra nearly shouts in his drawl of a deep voice. “Apparently I am not good enough for you!”

“You’ve been a pain in my side Ezra! A pain my ass!” You shout as you turn and face him.

“What have I done besides being your partner? Protecting you?”

“You’ve existed!” You scream at the top of your lungs.

Ezra blinks his eyes slowly at you. He looks down with sadness, hurt. He knew you didn’t care for him, but this? This was pure hatred. He wanted to make you feel better. He needed to make you feel better. You made him weak in the knees and he knows he needs to prove it.

Ezra kneels on the floor of the tent. His voice is shaky as he talks, “please Y/N. I will do anything for you, to you. I will beg on my knees for the rest of my life to have you. I want you; I need you. You make me weak. I am at your will; I am at your mercy.”

Ezra has crawled to where you are standing. He wraps his arms around your waist and presses his head against your stomach.

You’re quiet as Ezra takes one of your arms. He kisses your wrist, making sure he scrapes the hair from his cheeks along your skin. You inwardly moan at the sensation it sends through your body.

Ezra moves his hands around to your front. His fingers move down the front of your pants. He buttons and unzips them. He uses his hand and teeth to pull the fabric down over your hips.

Ezra moans at the sight of the bottom half of your naked body. He pushes your pants down further.

“Sit down,” Ezra’s plea is a whisper.

“Ezra.” Your voice is airy and shaky.

“Please sit down,” he whispers.

You look into his eyes as you sit down on the bunk.

Ezra’s kneels between your legs and removes your pants, throwing them off to the side. He kisses your inner thighs as he makes his way to your core. His eyes remain focused on your eyes as he licks up your folds.

You bite your lip and suck in a breath.

“Anything,” Ezra whispers as he opens your folds and runs his tongue up.

He begins flicking your clit lightly.

One of your hands grasp the bunk while the other hand moves to Ezra’s head. You run your fingers though his short brown hair as his tongue begins circling your clit faster. Your orgasm rises inside of you as pleasure spreads throughout your entire body.

“Ehz—Ezra,” you moan as your toes curl.

Your body trembles under his tongue as your fingers pull on his hair.

Ezra keeps his tongue against your clit as he feels your body tremble under his touch. His cock is rock hard. He’s aching to be inside of you. He needs to be inside of you. He knows he is at your mercy because you are the only one who can give him the release he needs.

Ezra kisses your inner thighs as his hand palms your core. He inserts two fingers inside of you. He moans at your wetness. His cock aches to be buried deep inside of your pussy.

Ezra stands, his eyes are on you. “Watch me Y/N.”

Your eyes roam over his body then watch his hand undo his pants and reveals his hard thick cock to you. Your eyes watch as his fingers rub his cock with your juices.

“Always hard for you,” Ezra moans, “fuck!”

You watch Ezra stroke himself. He arches his back, tilts his head to the side and closes his eyes.

“I need to be inside of you Y/N,” Ezra sucks in a breath.

“Lie down on the bunk,” you whisper as you stand.

You press his hand against his chest, walking him back towards the bunk he had been lying on for days.

Ezra lies back on the bunk and watches as you remove your top. He growls as he sees your naked breasts. He moans loudly as he watches you climb onto the bunk and straddle his body.

You lean down and whisper, “how badly do you need me Ezra?”

“I need you like I need air to breathe. Without you I wouldn’t have survived. You kept me going, you keep me alive. I need you for my very survival. I need you for the rest of my days,” Ezra’s voice is truthful and airy.

You lean back as your hand finds his cock. You raise your body and slowly sink yourself onto his girthy and lengthy cock.

Ezra’s hand moves to your hip, which he squeezes tightly as he feels your pussy wrap around his cock.

“Fuck!” Ezra grounds out.

Your pussy is tight, wet, hot. He’s in pure bliss at finally feeling you wrapped around him. Ezra growls as he feels your pussy clench his cock once you’ve settled onto his entire length.

“Oh, heaven yes,” Ezra whispers as you begin rolling your hips slowly and teasingly.

You splay your hands on Ezra’s chest as you begin riding him. His cock is deep inside of you and your enjoying this, enjoying Ezra. A man you thought you couldn’t find as a means of sexual release. A man you loathed was now giving you pleasure. A man who begged for you. A man who needs you to survive, like you knew you needed him to survive on this alien moon.

Ezra’s orgasm is cresting quickly inside of him as his eyes watch you. He takes in your bouncing breasts, the way you bite your lip as you roll your hips down, the way you move your head as roll your hips up. He knows the next time he takes you; he’s going to have you under him so he’s able to kiss your soft mouth.

“Y/N,” Ezra growls as he thrusts up deep inside of you. His orgasm rocks his body, making him thrust up again. He wants to empty himself completely inside of you.

“Ezra,” you whisper as your own orgasm consumes you while your fingers dig into his flesh.

Ezra doesn’t mind your fingers marking his flesh. The pain from everything has subsided. All that matters to him is you. To him, you are the air he needs. You are the means for his survival.

Ezra leans up and brushes his mouth against yours and pulls you against him. He lies back against the bunk, keeping his mouth glued to yours.

You return his kiss as your hands cup his cheeks then move one through his hair.

You pull back breathlessly, “I need to move.”

“No!” Ezra hisses as his hand wraps tightly around you. “Stay like this. Please. I don’t mind the pain. I have you.”

“Ezra,” you whisper.

“Stay Y/N,” Ezra whispers as he presses his lips against yours again.

Minutes later you place your head in the crook of his neck as one your hands find a blanket and cover your intertwined bodies.

You know Ezra’s drifting off to sleep as you feel his hand traveling over your skin lightly. He then moves his hand into your hair and kisses your temple.

Ezra sighs contently, and you smile in the darkness.

Knowing Ezra will always be at your mercy.

Tags: @pascalisthepunkest, @kaelyn-lobrutto24, @ezraslittlebirdie, @knight-of-heart44, @jokersdoll, @cosmo-bear, @caitlincat-95, @readsalot73, @random066, @longitud-de-onda, @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead, @stardust-and-starlight, @arrowswithwifi, @bonkybaaarnes, @halefirewarrior​, @earl-01, @x-wingwarriorbbpoe8

#mercy oneshot #anon request #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #ezra prospect #ezra x you #ezra x reader #smut #oneshot #begging #angst #ezra prospect smut

[jamaiskay]

one little mistake

vampire!jungkook x human!reader

angst, fluff, smut

mentions of: blood, death, gore, swearing and future smut

A/N: Hello! I’m very new to this but I really hope you all enjoy this little drabble i made. I don’t even have a cover image for it but i was so excited to drop it that i said fuck it lmao. i don’t know if i’m gonna continue it because i genuinely think its kinda shitty ANYWAYS if you like it or have any requests pls let me know! c:

Part One

He knew he had taken too much. It was evident in the way the woman’s body began to slip from his grasp, slowly crumbling towards the cold cement. He wanted to feel bad, but fuck, her blood was intoxicating. It was like all of his senses were finally numbed to the point of being tolerable. That’s what blood did to a leech like him, it gave him the only peaceful, fulfilling moments he could have as a blood-sucking parasite. A satisfied groan left his mouth at the sound of whimpers escaping the helpless woman’s mouth. He should stop. He needs to stop.

“Okay Jeon, that’s enough.” a cold voice stated from a distance. Although, on second thought, maybe he shouldn’t. 

He recognized that voice; that righteous, sickeningly calm voice that dictated his early years as a vampire. God, how he despised that voice. Jeongguk’s eyes fluttered open at the sound, moving his blood red irises towards the man who interrupted his bliss. He loosened his mouth from the woman’s bruised neck to smirk into the man’s direction as he ripped her jugular clean open, her already shallow breaths ceasing completely. As her body fell limp against his arms, he let go of her, opting to wipe his mouth instead. He chose to ignore the unnatural way her body contorted as it fell, barely any blood escaping her pale body. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” his mouth fell into a lopsided grin as he moved away from his meal. He shouldered the man as he walked further into the streetlights occupying the silent road.

“Is this your way of rebelling, Jeongguk? After all the countless years I spent teaching your sorry ass to be a successful hunter, you just throw it all away. Everything I taught you was for nothing, and for what? A sorry excuse of a female waltzed in and just revoked everything I taught you into nothing?” the man bellowed towards Jeongguk, making him slow his pace.

Jeongguk turned on his heel back towards the man, a glare taking over his once sly face.

“Y’know Namjoon, it’s not like you were a big help! You never gave her a chance, even when i told you i loved her…” he paused, a glimpse of sadness present in his eyes as he continued, “and now she’s gone. gone from a fucking mistake that never should have happened.” he seethed, inches away from the man’s face. He was angry; angry at the world for continuing to curse him whenever things started to look up for him. Centuries roll by and everyday seems like more of a punishment than a blessing. He loved her, and now all he had left of her were fading memories and a chipped locket.

“Love and lust are not the same Jeon, and you know that. You weren’t in love with her, you were infatuated with her. If my observation skills haven’t failed me, I'd even say you flipped the switch. Is that what you want Jeongguk? To forget your family, where you’re from?” he questioned, staring at the younger man’s back with an icy glare. After gaining no response from the younger man, Namjoon sighed. “At least clean up this damn mess, your brothers are here. And maybe try not being a brat when they arrive.”

Jeongguk scoffed at his hyung, already pissed at how his night was going. He killed that woman because Namjoon threatened his ego. He was an asshole. He’s always been one, since as far back as his mind would let him remember. No wonder that stupid fucking hag cursed him in the first place. He turned his gaze towards the body, a frown beginning to overtake his features. He had to admit, he was a damn good actor. He had turned his emotions off over 70 years ago, that was true. But around the late 2010’s, he met his lover, Seren, and for the first time during those 70 years, he felt something stir within him. 

She was the most beautiful thing he had seen in the centuries he had been alive for. Her eyes were cat-like and sensual, drawing him in from the first glance. He was frozen in place when he saw her, and she didn’t even see him. Her laugh was like a siren song in his ears, enrapturing him in the most wicked trance he had ever been in. Like she was calling to him, and only h-

“Jeongguk.” Namjoon’s assertive tone called, breaking him from his thoughts. “They’re here.”

As Jeongguk’s eyes rose to meet Namjoon’s cold ones, 5 other shadows emerged from behind him. He knew those silhouettes well; after all, they were family. 

The first to walk into his view was Jimin. He wasn’t much older than him, only being 2 years older when they were turned centuries ago, but Jimin made sure to establish his dominance over the younger, no matter how miniscule it may be.

“Jimin.” Jeongguk nodded.

“In the flesh, brother.” He responded smoothly, a devilish smile adorning his face. “I’ve heard you’ve been leaving quite a mess these days, couldn’t help but wonder why that might be, hmm?” he teased mockingly, his smile growing wider.

Jeongguk bared his fangs and hissed at his brother, anger evident in his features as he practically foamed from the mouth with rage. 

“Don’t you fucking dare you prick.” he seethed, earning an unflinching gaze from his arrogant brother. He stepped closer to Jeongguk circling him as if sizing him up. His luxurious attire and the overwhelming scent of musty cologne never ceased to make him gag.

“I see you still haven’t gotten over your anger issues brother, a shame really. Thought your little vamp slut solved that problem… but perhaps I was wrong.”

He pounced, he couldn’t help himself. Jimin was deliberately pushing all his buttons as if to purposefully make him angry. He lunged behind the shorter man, bringing both his hands up to wrap around his neck, successfully twisting it, releasing an animalistic growl as he did so. A sickening crunch of bone could be heard before Jimin’s body fell to the ground. If there was one thing Jeongguk held above his brothers, it was his agileness. 

“Well that solves that then.” a deep voice mumbled from the shadows, just above a whisper.

“Shut up, or I swear to god i’ll break your neck too, Jin.” Jeongguk fumed, baring his teeth to his oldest brother. Jin looked at him haphazardly, paying no interest to the maknae’s threat.

“So let me get this straight, you already turned your emotions on, and now you’re just a grade A douchebag that has no regard for covering his tracks?” a man with icy blonde hair accused. “I would have liked you emotionless to be honest, ‘least that shit can be fixed.”

“Always a pleasure seeing you too, Yoongi. Now can I ask why you’re all suddenly gathered here? Is this some sort of an excuse of an intervention?” Jungkook asked nonchalantly, eyeing his brothers defensively as he retracted his fangs. There was no reason to be defensive, honestly, as there was no way to kill any of them. They were all Originals, Jeongguk included. A curse set upon them many centuries ago to “humble” their arrogant, power hungry ways. They were truly immortal, and the ancestors to every vampire infecting this planet. Doomed to watch their family die as they remained the same, doomed to hunt their own kind, hunger never able to be satiated otherwise. A never-ending curse.

“You could say that. Your lack of consideration to clean up your hunts have been leading the mortals right to us. Now, I don’t know about you but I’d prefer to stay under the radar, considering how many new vampire hunters are on the rise.” a voice like silk spoke from the darkness of the alleyway, slowly revealing himself to be Taehyung.

“Why should that bother me? It’s not like we can be killed, and a so-called “vampire hunter” wouldn’t put up much of a fight against us anyways.” Jeongguk grumbled as he smoothed out his leather jacket. “If that’s the only reason you came here, then see yourself out of this town. I staked claim on it years ago and I certainly don’t need any more competition plaguing the streets.” the youngest proclaimed, turning to walk away.

As he continued walking, his ears picked up steps moving closer. He turned his head to the sound, expecting to see one of his brothers coming after him, but instead met another, unfamiliar pair of eyes looking back at him. His brothers had vanished, even Jimin’s body out of sight. For a brief moment, he held your gaze, before you turned to continue walking, panic evident in your racing heartbeat.

“Mama! Where the hell did you go? Mama!” you shouted, disregarding the 2000 year old vampire shamelessly staring at your figure. Jeongguk studied you, and he noted how clearly stupid you were. It’s not like you were in the safest neighbourhood, and here you were screaming your head off for the whole town to hear. You were young, maybe 12 or 13 he guessed. He wondered why you were out this late, in what looked to be pajamas. 

“Mama! Ma- Oh my god, mama!” you breathlessly voiced, dropping to your knees in front of the corpse that had so carelessly been tossed aside. 

Fuck. 

“Mama, please get up… Get up, please, for me… Come on, I know you’re there. Just get up I can carry you to the hospital from here, just please fucking get up!” you screamed, your frail arms struggling to lift the weight of your mother’s body. Jeongguk fucked up. He didn’t think the woman was old enough to have kids, let alone one that’s as old as you were. He watched, calculating his next move, perched on a fire escape opposite to where you mourned for your mother.

He heard a groan from the alleyway across from you. There was the scraping of shoes against the cement before a familiar voice spoke through your screams, barely above a low whisper.

“You know, that shit never fails to surprise me.” Jimin croaked out, neck still sore from the previous encounter. As he struggled to come to his senses, his ears perked at the sound of your sobs, a wicked smile gracing his once pained expression. Jeongguk could hear the way Jimin’s pace quickened, fastly approaching your slumped figure. “Left some for me, Gukk? Hmm, such a sweet little brother.” Jimin basically salivated at the opportunity before him. He hadn’t eaten at all this week, and there you sat; young, pure, fresh meat, ripe for the taking. It only drove him more knowing that you would be a fighter; that’s what made it fun.

He didn’t know what came over him; maybe guilt for ridding you of your mother, or perhaps a sense of protectiveness of his prey. Jeongguk didn’t know, but he found himself leaping off the fire escape and towards you. 

In a few long strides, Jeongguk had managed to cut Jimin off from his bloodthirsty path, hissing at his brother. “Mine.” he stated in a low growl, his irises taking on a crimson red hue revealing his blatant annoyance. 

Jimin halted his movements, opting to inspect his younger brother’s face. “What’s this I see, brother? Are you protecting a mortal?” Jimin challenged, accusation laced in his voice, along with undeniable hunger.

“I said she’s fucking mine, back off dick.” Jeongguk retorted, pushing against Jimin’s chest harsh enough to break ribs in a mortal, but just enough to stun his brother.

“Found a new replacement, huh? Didn’t know you were into younger girls Guk. I thought you wouldn’t mind me taking a bite, seeing as it would get rid of any witness and give you time to get rid of that corpse you so eagerly drained. I’ll get rid of the girl when I'm done with her. Once less job for you, right?” Jimin’s mouth was watering as he began to push past his younger brother, he needed to taste you.

Jeongguk paused as he took in Jimin’s words, contemplating whether or not this plan was really all that bad. He didn’t know you, nor did he care that your mother was dead. What was wrong with him? Why was he feeling this way? He chose to step aside, letting his brother waltz over to you, hunger overtaking his entire being. 

“Hey doll.” Jimin cooed, attracting the girls attention. Her puffy eyes and shallow sniffs made him feel like he could devour her then and there. He collected himself and bent down to her slumped form, taking a piece of hair that had fallen out of place, placing it behind her ear. “I can make it better, you know? I can make you forget about her, like she meant nothing to you. You can forget this little one, just let me help you..” Jimin trailed off as he inched closer to your neck. 

‘Sick bastard.’ Jeongguk thought to himself, even he wouldn’t compromise what morals he had left to feed on a child. Jeongguk’s body was screaming at him to help you, to save you from his brother’s sick intentions, and no matter how much he tried to look away, he couldn’t.

As Jimin sank his fangs into your soft skin, you let out a defeated whimper. You didn’t care whether or not this was a dream or reality, you just wanted to die. You had nothing anymore, there was nothing to live for. As your vision became blurry and the man’s groans became muffled, you accepted the slow dullness that overtook you, accepted your incoming fate.

As you slowly slipped in and out of consciousness, you felt a searing pain in your throat, like something had been forcibly ripped out. The pressure of the body against yours was removed suddenly, and you could make out blurry figures in front of you. The last thing you remember before blacking out is rising. 12 years was enough hell for one lifetime, you guessed. Maybe this was your salvation.

      ---

“Are you fucking insane Jeongguk?” the eldest roared, hands outstretched towards the newest addition to their household. There you sat, looking peaceful as ever as you slept in the same way you had for 3 days. Jeongguk just stared at you, fascinated in the way you never awoke, almost as if you were in an eternal slumber; almost as if you were dead. He could hear your heartbeat though, however faint, your body was still fighting to survive.

“Are you even fucking listening to us? Jeongguk!”

“I heard you! Look, I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I couldn’t keep her there or hold her up at my place, the whole town woulda been looking for her. My only option was to come here, and trust me, it was my very last option.” 

It’s true. Jeongguk never wanted to come back here for the rest of the days of his miserable, foredoomed life. He hated this town; after all, it’s where he was cursed so many years ago. Although, instead of huts filled with witches and common folk, the familiar plot of land had evolved into a bustling little town filled with normal people; besides the 6 Originals that called it home as well. 

Jeongguk moved out centuries ago, having quickly depleted a great majority of their food source, his 6 brothers banished him from their shared home. He always had trouble controlling his cravings, he could never pace himself like his brothers did. Over the years he had traveled from place to place, draining the life out of every city he came across, leaving his mess behind for his brothers to see, his own personal way of saying ‘fuck you’. As years passed and humanity advanced, news broke out of a crazed, savage-like serial killer who would drain their victims dry before ripping their throats out. Jeongguk now had a new name; The Cannibal. 

Decades passed and he adapted new ways of hunting in a more discreet way, choosing to stay under the radar as constantly running had gotten him tired. He had been everywhere in his lifetime, no corner of the world untouched by him; but all that running made him miss a sense of family; a home. So, he relocated to his favourite city on the map; New Orleans. He had been doing just fine, for decades running the city and it’s vampires; creating a growing colony. And then you showed up, bringing all his morals that he had neglected for years rushing in. Now, here he stood, before his 6 brothers seeking shelter in the home he was exiled from to save you. A mortal.

“Look, we're fine with visiting you every decade or so to check on you and make sure your not causing shit, but you can’t stay here. We’ve finally got this town pumping with food, we don’t need you back here fucking it all up again, and certainly not to seek shelter with a human.” his hyung explained, distaste written all over his features.

“Let me stay for a couple weeks, Hoseok. I’ll feed from a different town, and i’ll be out of your sight the entirety that I’m here. I just can’t let everything i’ve built come crumbling down because of one fucking mistake. Let her heal, and once she is, i’ll leave this town forever, and I won’t come back.” Jeongguk promised, keeping his eyes trained on the ringleader of his brothers, Namjoon. 

Namjoon kept a straight, uninterested look on his face, but Jeongguk knew he was running through his options. “Fine. We’ll give you the shelter you desire for three weeks, nothing more. The girl may stay in your room, but you will seek refuge elsewhere.” Namjoon concluded, earning a shocked look from Jimin.

“Are you serious Joon? The guy snapped my neck twice last night and need I remind you that he’s still leaving bodies everywhere?” his brother snapped, smoke practically coming out of his ears.

“Enough, Jimin.”

“No, he can find some other town to fix his shit in. Why are we letting this parasite back in our home? He’s a bratty little fucking lee-”

“I said enough!” Namjoon howled as he slammed the table, Jimin promptly clamping his mouth shut at the sound. “This meeting is finished. Now, do what you will with her, as no harm shall come to the girl in this household. You have my word, Guk.”

“Thank you, Namjoon.” Jeongguk nodded to his brother, a small smile gracing his lips at the old name his brother would call him. No matter how much he hated his brothers, it was nice to see them all again under semi-normal circumstances. Although, as his eyes confirmed with each of his brothers, he didn’t fail to notice the disappointed looks on their faces at the inability to feed on you. That part of them would never change.

As Jeongguk stood, he shuffled over to the couch where you slept so soundly despite the screaming match between his brothers that took place mere minutes ago. Your face was pale, sunken in, and tired. You had lost not only blood, but your mother in one foul swoop. He bent his knees to your level and swept you gently  into his arms bridal style, moving out of the living room and towards his old bedroom. 

As he walked, he paid attention to your shallow breaths and how they were rhythmic with your heartbeat. It made him wonder what it was like to be human again, having forgotten the feeling of breathing completely. He couldn’t remember the last time his heart beat, or the last time his flesh was warm, nor could he remember the last time he thought about his time as a human, but looking at you made him wish he could. Your skin was so warm, even when you were almost drained, it still radiated off you. Your features were so soft, having a youthful glow he hadn’t noticed on humans in years. You were so full of life, even in your frailest state, and Jeongguk was captivated. 

Rounding the corner at the end of the long hallway, he pushed his door open to reveal his old bachelor pad. It seems nothing had changed, just a light coating of dust enveloping the living space. His bed was made, so there he rested you on the satin sheets that were cold and void of attention from the centuries he was absent. He watched the rise and fall of your chest as you rested softly, taking a seat by your figure. He wrapped his cold digits around a piece of hair that covered your face, moving to rest it behind your small ear, when he saw it.

Your eyes. Your hazel-brown eyes opened for the first time in 3 days, and he took the time to notice the hints of green present in them. Interesting. Jeongguk was expecting them to widen at his unfamiliar presence, but they remained empty of any emotion. You were surveying him, deciding whether or not to be afraid, he guessed. Your pale, cracked lips opened up to speak, using every ounce of strength to utter the words;

“Why didn’t you kill me?”

#siren au #bts #bts au #bts smut #bts fantasy au #bts fantasy #bts supernatural #bts supernatural au #bangtan #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #hobi #jungkook #namjoon #jin #yoongi #jimin #taehyung #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts angst #bts fluff