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literary-motif · 1 month ago

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Primal

Asirel Cain x Reader

Asirel's sister gets kidnapped.

Warnings: kidnapping, anxiety/panic attack

Asirel glanced at you, lounging on the couch in his study with some papers in your hand. They looked suspiciously like the files he had been searching for last night, but he chose not to comment on it. Yet. The tentative peace — and the silence you so readily broke in your boredom — made concentrating easier, and he still needed to finish revising the pages Isaac had sent him.

The telephone rang, and he groaned, torn out of the words on the page once more. He picked it up without looking at the caller ID, keeping his eyes on the page before him and scribbling a question to clarify later with Isaac on the margin. “Yes?”

“Mr. Cain, how generous of you to pick up,” the deep voice cooed, Asirel tensing immediately as he recognized it to belong to William Kennedy, a rather unimportant player in the real estate business — unlike his father had been — and one he was entirely ready to forget after he had run the company to the ground.

Markets shifted. It was not entirely Asirel’s fault, but he knew better than to think his father had not warned William, telling him to keep an eye out about the Collective — or perhaps Asirel, specifically — meddling in their affairs. William had seemed just arrogant enough to blame it all on him, and Asirel liked to keep tabs on his enemies.

“Mr. Kennedy,” he said drily, putting down the pencil to give him his undivided attention. “How can I help you?”

William chuckled, making Asirel frown. Something about the sound made him weary, drawing his guard up further as he clicked through the security footage, a little voice warning him to tread carefully.

“It’s not so much about helping me, as it is about helping yourself,” he said cryptically, and Asirel had to suppress a scoff despite the looming threat of something unspoken between them.

“I don’t follow.”

“Let me put it this way,” William said. Shuffling came from the other end of the line, a low groan that made Asirel’s blood freeze. “Want to say hello to your brother, dear?”

“Fuck you.” His sister’s unmistakable snarl cut through his heart like a shard of glass. His eyes widened, and despite his best efforts, his hands began to shake.

You smelled his surge of fear, glancing up from some intricate real estate business to look at Asirel. His heart rate was elevated, and you clicked your tongue in distaste at the scent of his blinding panic.

“So, Mr. Cain. What are we going to do about this little predicament, hm?”

Asirel fought hard to keep his voice steady, cold, and devoid of the emotion curling in his chest. Anyone else, he would have no problem keeping his cool. Anyone else, he would have informed his trusted circle to clean up this mess with as much damage as they saw fit, but this was family. The matter was personal, and he could not help trembling at the thought that his sister was in danger. “What do you want?”

“Ever the businessman, I see. Straight to the point. My father told me you were someone not to mess with after the whole business with Incessant Inc. Do you remember Robert Kennedy? He talked highly of you before you ran us into the ground.”

His voice sounded like it came from underwater, and Asirel blinked unseeing as his mind conjured up images of his sister, tied to a chair, chained to a wall, scared, terrified while she put up a brave facade and counted on him to get her out of this mess. “Yes.”

“Anyway. How about this: you pull a few strings and get us back to the market value of roughly a year ago, and I’ll send you back this little viper without a scratch? It sounds more than fair to me, Asirel.”

The agreement was on his tongue, but he bit his lip at the last second. Desperate. It would give him the upper hand. It would reveal just how scared he was. How could he not be? It felt like someone had cut open his ribcage, and held his fearfully beating heart in their hand — ready to crush it.

“Don’t take too long to decide. It’s awfully boring here, you know. I get bored quite easily, and when I do, all I can assure you is that she will be in one piece. Unharmed, well. We shall see about that.”

“Fine,” Asirel bit out, pouring as much venom and disdain into the word as he could, despite the pleading tone wanting to crawl up his throat and beg him not to hurt her. “Fine. Agreed. I need the rest of the week.”

“You have until tonight,” William said, his tone leaving no room to argue as the line went dead.

Asirel did not notice you get up from your place on the couch. He could not hear anything outside of the blood rushing in his ears, his heart hammering painfully hard in his chest while reality twisted into a cruel, dangerous nightmare. He knew he needed to act, needed to do something but sit here and panic.

He could not move, the telephone tumbling from his grip as his body felt heavy and airily light at the same time. Gravity seemed to pull him under, crush him into the ground while he was suspended in water, weightlessly drifting away as waves of fear and guilt tore at him.

He needed to snap out of it. He needed to snap out of it.

There were pills in the top drawer, the anxiety medication he ignored for the better part of the year always stocked in case he needed it. His hand flailed around, dragging open the drawer gracelessly as he rummaged through it for the little bottle with hands shaking annoyingly hard.

His chest burned, and for the life of him he could not figure out why his heart was burning so much until it spasmed painfully, and he realized his breath had lodged in his throat. He squeezed the bottle tighter, uselessly trying to pry it open.

You took it from his unsteady hands, opening it effortlessly and shaking out two pills he dry-swallowed immediately. He held onto the desk with a white-knuckled grip, taking a deep breath. “My sister—” he began.

“I heard.”

“I have to—”

“I’ll take care of it.”

His gaze snapped up to look at you, impressively sharp for someone whose mind was clouded with panic not a minute ago. “There is— is no room for mistakes here. I’ll send a— a team with you.”

“I work alone.”

“No, no,” he breathed, shaking his head while his hand reached for the telephone. “Not this time, I can’t—”

You took hold of his wrist, stopping his movement while you glared at him. “You want her to be safe?” you asked, not missing how his heart rate picked up at the reminder of the peril his beloved sister was in. “Let me do what I do best, howI do it best. You know what I’m capable of.”

He considered this for a long moment, and you could see in the quiet resignation of his eyes that he agreed with you. “Fine,” he said finally, and you released his hand with a triumphant grin. “I’m coming with you.”

The disbelieving laugh tearing out of your throat made him shoot you a dark glance. “No, you won’t. You’ll drag me down.”

“I will, end of discussion,” he said, rising to his feet unsteadily.

You suppressed a snarl. “End of discussion, yeah?” you asked, raising your shoulders in a shrug, mocking apathy as you walked over to the couch again. “Good luck fetching her by yourself, then. I go alone, or I don’t go at all.”

“Pet!” he said, his voice rough with anger. His fists were clenched at his sides, shaking in rage and fear. “This is not the time for your games. Now, come on. I command you—!”

“Oh, commanding me, are you?” you teased, flopping onto the couch again, nuzzling into the pillows as you lazily picked up the papers. “Good luck with that.”

Asirel’s eyes widened, distraught at your stubbornness. “Please,” he said, and you had to blink a few times to keep your head from spinning. He was all over the place, angry for an instant before his voice shook on the verge of tears. It was surprisingly easy to dissolve him. A few prods, a kidnapped sister and he stumbled over himself, entirely useless as he scurried around lost, like a helpless bird caught in a cage. “Don’t do this to me now, please.”

How hard you thought your heart might be, it melted at his anguished look, and you silently cursed yourself for allowing him to have this sway on you. “Fine, fine,” you said, getting up from the couch and tossing the papers aside carelessly.

He perked up immediately, blinking away the tears in his vision.

“I go alone,” you said. “I’m getting her back unscratched, trust me. Just sit tight, and we’ll be back before you know it.”

You saw he wanted to argue, but he bit his lip instead, giving a stiff nod. You were out the door the next second, and as the minutes ticked by and he sat uselessly in his office chair, checking security footage all around the city, the thought struck him that by all means, you should not even know where the hell it was they were keeping her.

He did not doubt your abilities for a moment — could not allow himself to, else the panic curling in his chest like a sleeping beast would be awakened again full force — so he chose to trust you instead. Minutes ticked by, crawling into half an hour.

Another handful of minutes, and you were gone for less than an hour that felt much too close to eternity to his restless mind, before the security cameras picked you up, strolling casually down the street with his sister on your arm, talking amicably.

She did not look hurt. On the contrary, she seemed quite content, throwing her head back in laughter every once in a while at whatever it was you told her. He took a deep breath, releasing it slowly through his mouth. She was safe. She was safe.

Asirel leaned back in his chair, suddenly exhausted. The tension headache hit him like a train, and he winced as he massaged his temples.

“I can’t believe he said that!” his sister’s amused laugh tore him out of his thoughts, and he rose from his seat again, opening the door into the hallway where your hand was poised, ready to knock.

She was beside you, cheeks tainted a little red from laughter, and he let instinct take over, enveloping her in a crushing hug and squeezing her so tightly against him that he feared anyone seeing the scene would find his weakness spelled out painfully clear.

“She’s charming,” you said, giving her a cheeky grin as she chuckled in amusement.

Asirel only held her tighter. “Are you okay?” he asked, voice muffled against her shoulder. “Did they hurt you? Did—?”

“Asirel, relax,” she said, a hand reaching up to settle between his shoulder blades. “I’m fine. Nothing happened. It was a bit annoying — the guy sat me down on this hideous couch and would not shut up about some bartender disrespecting him. I wanted to punch him, but honestly, he didn’t seem worth it.”

“I tore out his heart if you’re wondering,” you said absentmindedly, frowning at the droplets of blood on your sleeves.

“Yeah. That was metal of you. Not very demure.”

You raised an eyebrow at her, not missing Asirel’s quiet ‘thank you’ as he continued cradling her to his chest, assuring himself — and his racing heart — that she was safe, perfectly alright, and alive.

#sakuverse #zsakuva #asirel cain #asirel #zsakuva asirel #asirel cain x reader

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ohnococo · 10 months ago

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Eyes On You | MMA Fighter!Sukuna x F!Scientist Reader

Summary: Sukuna takes a keen interest in you after a meeting discussing having him promote the protein powder you helped develop.

Notes: A one shot within the mma!au, though this isn’t part of the main canon of Fight Night. A request for @rosemaydone321

Warnings: public sex, mutual masturbation, rough sex, cum shot

You hated being dragged along for these sponsorship meetings. It wasn’t your thing: sucking up to clients, listening to them negotiate fees, nodding the approval you’d already detailed and reviewed with legal in emails over the product claims in the ad copy. That didn’t stop you from getting dragged along though. Kusakabe, the company’s marketing lead, absolutely insisted that you added an air of legitimacy to the product just by sitting there. You drew the line at his suggestions that you wear a white lab coat to these meetings. There was no need to give some performance of your job, because it was simply something you did and did well, not needing to add niceties or fakeness to bolster your accolades. Not like most of the other people in this room laughing louder than they needed to, smiling wider than necessary.

Not the subject of this meeting though. In lieu of making conversation and underhanded suggestions of sponsorship requirements or costs, his focus was on you through most of it, face unamused by his manager’s banter. He seemed much more interested in watching you squirm under his gaze. You aren’t exactly sure what it was he seemed to get out of it, brows raised, peering down his nose at you as he leans on one hand and waits for your side of the table to agree to what he wants without even having to be the one to ask for it. It feels like he’s judging you, staring into your mind at every little thing you were thinking. It makes it hard for you to listen, not that you really needed to. All they asked was that you “look smart” and “use some science-y words.” All your years of education and experience to be told to look smart when you were smart. It almost made you regret getting into the health and fitness business.

The only thing making these meetings semi-tolerable was at least knowing Kusakabe was good at dealing with these people, having done press management for fighters himself in the past before deciding it was too much stress for the pay. He had to put out less fires this way, now he just helped the company push protein powder via sponsorships and deals. Or in this case, a very important brand deal with a highly sought after man like Sukuna. His being reliable, and doing most of the talking, made up for you being forced to be here rather than where your costly degrees had given you access to. It still didn’t make his client-facing persona any less grating though.

Sukuna leans forward, picking up his glass of water on the long table separating you and your coworkers from him and his management, and Kusakabe makes a show of acting impressed by him to pay him a compliment. It was usually what these men liked most.

“God, look at the size of his hands! No wonder you’re a menace on the ground.” Kusakabe mimics wrenching an opponent’s arm back, but Sukuna seems to be too concerned with watching you intently to be plied by the praise. Though from how disinterested he seemed the entire meeting you were beginning to think flattery wouldn’t work on him anyway. Kusakabe nudges you, encouraging you to join in, “Can’t claim that’s because of the protein powder, can we?”

Sukuna’s lip curls into a sneer, and you feel a small sense of camaraderie that he was just as put off by the charade of it all as you were, though you note this was the first time someone hadn’t been taken in by Kusakabe.

You’d have to tease him for it later when he lets the facade slip on your way back to the more comfortable lab-based aspects of your job. He knew the product inside and out. Not on a chemical level like you, but he was knowledgeable.

You found his penchant for playing dumb exhausting though, and since Sukuna seemed to as well you take the chance to speak your mind for once. “Don’t be stupid.”

For the first time since this meeting had started, the large man across from you actually looks amused, lifting his head from where it was resting atop his hand with the smallest hint of a smile.

“Don’t mind her. You know how brainy types are, right?” Kusakabe deflects, trying to recover from his parried compliment.

That wipes the smile off of Sukuna’s face, and he turns his steely gaze to the man next to you. “She’s right. You were being stupid.

Kusakabe looks frightened for a second, with your new client’s ability to intimidate even without threats, then his business brain kicks in, forcing that fake smile back onto his face as he laughs nervously. “Of course I was!”

He was, really. A claim like that would be preposterous. It was already a stretch for them to try and act like any of the considerable musculature before you was due to your product anyway. A body like that wasn’t built by a year’s worth of free product and the promise of a sizable check…

From the corner of your eye you can see Kusakabe deflate a little, before redoubling his efforts with Sukuna’s management, having noted they were much more receptive than the brooding man who was the guest of honour here.

The meeting wraps up without further incident, except for you spending the majority of it trying to look unbothered by Sukuna’s unwavering gaze. As Kusakabe walks you back to your little hideaway many, many floors down from the fancy meeting room, he places a lollipop into his mouth in lieu of heading outside for a cigarette to calm his buzzing nerves.

“If I didn’t respect you so much I’d have asked you to show a little leg to make that whole thing easier for me.”

It catches you off guard, “Firstly, if you respected me you would have kept that little thought to yourself. Secondly, what are you even talking about?”

He twirls the sweet by its stick on his mouth, pulling it out to gesture at you broadly. “I’m talking about the sexy eyes you were getting the whole damn time. Typical meathead, thinking with his dick.”

“Sexy eyes? Do you mean scary eyes? He looked like he was going to eat me alive.”

Kusakabe laughs as he leans against the wall while you press your keycard to the sensor for the entrance to your floor, “Yeah he wanted a taste of you, all right.”

The door beeps, then the locks click signifying your entry was permitted. Kusakabe’s, however, is not, so he waves at you over his shoulder as he heads back towards the elevator, “I’ll let you know when they decide on the deal.”

“I don’t care.”

It was all the same to you, and while your interest might have been piqued despite the brutishness of being ogled for nearly an hour and a half, your job there was done. Whether he promoted the protein powder or not, or made an appearance in a few commercials or print ads, had nothing to do with you past this point. Hell, it technically didn’t have anything to do with you before, but Kusakabe was adamant your quiet presence made a difference.

When Kusakabe approaches you in the lobby three days later, walking alongside you as you make your way to your car to head home, you think maybe you might care just a little. Enough to see it through at least. He looks serious, disappointed even, feigning having to deliver bad news, before he’s breaking into a smile and patting your back the way he always did when asking you to celebrate a victory that wasn’t yours.

“We did it. Sukuna’s team is signed on.”

“You did it.” You assert. No amount of money would have made you go on all the networking luncheons and meetings he spent his time in to soften people up. One was your limit, agreed to after a lengthy begathon from your coworker, so you let him ask you to come to a celebratory meal with the rest of the marketing team as usual, so you can also shoot it down as usual.

“Well, how about food and drinks tonight to celebrate, eh?” He acts like he might make it sound appetising by phrasing it like that for the dozenth time. But then he adds, “Their team is coming too. Sukuna insisted on paying. He asked us to bring everyone from the meeting too, and that includes you.”

This was a little unusual. It was a rarity for anyone other than the direct lead to be invited out, even if it was his company card getting thrown on the table for it. You can’t say you aren’t interested, even if the thought of being watched through the whole meal intimidated you. So you say yes, and Kusakabe is taken aback, smiling wide and patting you on the back like it was some feat to actually get out of either your lab, your office, or your home.

—

The meal is as insufferable as the meetings usually are. The ass kissing is somehow even more intolerable now that you know the contracts are signed so it was all even more unnecessary theatrics. Sukuna seems more focused on people in the room other than you, bordering on outright ignoring you, save for a few glances down at you in your seat across from him at the table.

It forces you to reckon with the fact that you had possibly been a little self-indulgent, coming to this meal to see him, to see if he was as interested as Kusakabe had seemed to think. You did trust his judgement after all, he had a good read on people, but now you’re just confused. It closes you off from the room even further, starting to feel awkward as your coworkers are drinking fast, bordering on making themselves a nuisance with their boisterous talking and laughter in the little reserved room of this restaurant.

Once they’re shuffling round seats, talking to each other, taking shots, cheersing again and again to a supposedly great fortune this year long contract - with a hope of renewal - would bring, you’re just sitting quietly at your seat in the corner, waiting for Kusakabe to finish his loud story to one of Sukuna’s team so you can say goodbye and leave.

Then, your interest is piqued again, as Sukuna breaks off from the few people he was speaking with, coming to sit down next to you. He peers down at you and you find yourself sitting up a little straighter, blinking when he speaks as if he’d made some sudden frightening movement.

“Are you always so quiet?”

You couldn’t tell if he was trying to be rude or not, but you answer honestly. “Yes.”

It surprises him that you don’t come up with some defence, and that you were comfortable with your quietness, his brows raising gently as he appears to be scanning you head to toe all over again. It has you feeling tense, swallowing hard as he’s silent, though not in the same way you were.

He catches that, smiling with a predacious twinkle in his eye before he leans a little closer than necessary. “Don’t be scared. I only hurt people who have it coming.”

You don’t know if it was supposed to intimidate you, but it worked. It made your hairs stand on end, your mouth feel dry, but it also made a familiar heat pool low in your stomach. He’s caught onto something that lets him know that too, flashing his teeth at you.

“I said don’t be scared.” He says it like an order, leaning back in the seat he’d taken, looking out at the room and you take the opportunity to try and calm yourself a little without being obvious about it.

He crosses one leg over the other, putting an arm over the back of your chair. “They’ll be shitfaced by the end of the night. Half of them already are.” He swings his head slowly to look down at you, “Why aren’t you?”

You shrug. Because it didn’t interest you, maybe. Because you were bored enough that it couldn’t even help anything and would leave you with a hangover that wasn’t worth it tomorrow morning. You don’t tell him any of that though, deciding that you didn’t want to volunteer any unnecessary information right now.

So you answer with the same question, “Why aren’t you?”

There it is again, that smile that would be outright terrifying if you were one of those people that ’had it coming.’ Then, he tempers the smile, running his tongue over his teeth before relaxing into a more neutral expression.

“If I’m partying I’m not holding back, and this is technically business. But,” he leans in, close enough that you’re holding your breath, eyes wide, “maybe we can have our fun some other way…”

You lick your lips, trying to keep your breathing under control, trying to temper whatever had clued him in to his effect on your body before because by now you were absolutely soaked. He doesn’t let you have that control though, bringing a hand up and brushing your lower lip with his thumb and tilting your head up towards him. He’s so close you’re sure he’s going to kiss you, but instead he speaks.

“You need to do something with all that nervous energy, or you’ll wind up passing out.”

He’s mocking you, you know he is. You don’t exactly like to feel so frail in front of him but you can’t deny how your body was reacting, or that you might just be considering letting him kiss you within eyeshot of several of your coworkers. But he doesn’t. He pulls back and stands, eyes barely visible with how low he has to look to gaze down on you.

“I’m going to the bathroom.”

Then, he just walks away, leaving you blinking, unsure of why he’d announced his departure with such weight. You catch up to his thinking as he stops at the entryway to the little private room you’d all been dining and drinking in, and quirks his head to the side, raising his brows in a face that wordlessly communicates, ’well?’ before he’s walking away.

It leaves you blinking again, swallowing hard, looking around the room as if to ask what you should do. No one was looking back, all involved in their own discussions. You take a breath, wondering why you suddenly felt the need to confer over something you very much didn’t want anyone else here to know you were even considering. Then, you realise even as you stand to follow along the path Sukuna had taken, it was because you knew it was probably a very, very bad idea.

When you reach the bathroom, you see it’s unlocked. You grab the handle and take a deep breath, half hoping he’d been joking, that he hadn’t even come into here and instead walked outside to get some air and laugh at the dirty little scientist who really thought he was inviting her to fuck in a public restroom. The door is only open a little before Sukuna is in view, very much waiting for you as he’d said, and very much stroking his frankly intimidating cock.

With the way your blood rushes downward between your thighs you almost feel lightheaded, and it’s as if your legs are moving of their own accord as you enter the bathroom and shut and lock the door behind you.

“Anyone could have come in here and seen that.” He laughs at the way you refer to his monster of a cock as that, but it doesn’t stop his slow strokes.

“But you came in here.” He’s still mocking you. And you’re still taking it, responding by grabbing at his shirt, and looking up at him. It spurs him on to release his grip on his cock and kiss you, one hand in your hair the other on your hip.

The force of his kiss borders on painful, teeth clashing with yours, tongue pushing into your mouth like it was his to claim. Then he’s gripping your ass, hoisting you up onto the sink, and only parting from your kiss once his hands migrate downward and feel how wet you already were. He spreads your legs wide, shoving your sensible grey dress upward to unveil the wet patch on your panties and smiling wickedly.

“Were you this wet in that meeting?” His eyes flick upward to meet with yours, and you feel defensive, like he was accusing you of being unprofessional.

“N-no.”

“Don’t lie to me.” He tugs your panties down, hard enough you have to reach behind yourself to grip the sink and keep yourself from sliding off. “I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

That doesn’t help the defensiveness bubbling up inside you, competing with the arousal. “I am.”

He gives you a pitying look, like he wasn’t so sure anymore, “Then be a smart girl and get that cunt ready for me.”

He takes a step back, resuming his slow strokes on his cock, waiting for you to perform for him. Your fight is gone with the way his words have you letting out a horny little whine at the sight of him touching himself. He lets out a pleased groan at that, and if you hadn’t already cast caution and logic aside for a moment you’d be embarrassed at how enthusiastically you begin moving your fingers through your wetness for him. He nods approvingly, picking up his pace a little as his silent encouragement only makes you go further, bringing a knee up to perch one of your feet on the sink, giving him a better view as you circle your clit and let out a stifled moan.

He doesn’t let you work your way up like that for long though, “Go on, fuck that cunt open for me.”

His words are only getting filthier, and it makes your head spin, letting a louder moan slip out as your mind goes blank and you do just as he says. You didn’t know you could be so needy so fast, knuckle deep with two of your fingers, rocking your hips into your movements the best you can without slipping from your precarious position. He flicks his wrist, twisting his hand as he strokes his cock, and his deep groans have you sliding a third finger in, knowing your fingers will hardly approximate his girth. The obscenity of it all is getting you close, breath hitching, eyes struggling to keep focused as your legs get shaky.

Then he’s got you by the wrist, pulling your hand away, and replacing your fingers with his cock in one steady push. You wrap your arms around him, moaning and clutching at his back, squirming until he has to hold your hips still to bottom out inside of you properly.

You’re so full that it’s like you can’t think, mind needing to reset as your body takes over all the work for you, rocking against him, begging him with soft whines until he’s chuckling at your desperation.

“All of your little coworkers are going to hear us if you don’t keep quiet.”

His words are undercut by his actions, as he starts fucking into you in long, deep strokes, only speeding up to snap his hips against yours just as he’s bottoming out, and you find yourself taking it happily as he hits all the right spots inside of you.

The force of his thrusts has his pants slowly shifting from his hips and down his legs, heavy belt buckle hitting the tile floors with a clang as they pool around his ankles. His pace is unaffected, the more pressing matter being your pussy squelching obscenely around his cock.

“Oh- oh my god, oh my god…” you’re clinging to him, despite being in no danger of falling now that he was gripping you so tightly, mouth open and incapable of stopping the little whines coming out with every thrust.

He puts a hand over your still open and panting mouth and chuckles, low and breathy, “Not such a quiet little mouse now, hm?”

You’re still talking now, babbling into his palm about how good it feels, how bad you need him to make you cum. Even with how muffled it is you can still feel how it’s making him throb inside of you, and you clench around him. His hand on your mouth, large enough that he was gripping your entire jaw, and the other hand firmly locked onto your hip, are the only things keeping you from being a fucked out puddle on the floor, too close to do anything but take it as your moans get higher and louder.

As he starts climbing towards his end as well, he doesn’t even pretend to hold those sounds in anymore, releasing your face to have his other hand on your hip, and you resume your desperate talk unrestrained as he fucks you hard enough your head is left lolling. You’re lucky enough to have him obliging your every request, namely because they all centre around begging him to keep fucking you. He does it happily, until he’s growling his approval as you grip him tight, creaming around his cock as he fucks you right through your orgasm until he’s right on that edge himself. Suddenly he pulls out, pulling your dress higher and out of the way as he pumps himself roughly til he’s cumming hard, coating your pussy and thighs.

You lean back, until you’re against the mirror with the faucet uncomfortably pressed into your back, catching your breath, watching him squeeze out the last of his cum as he takes in the view of his handiwork. Then, when the stars behind your eyes have dissipated, and you look down at the mess, the reality of what you’ve just done settles in.

“Oh God…”

Sukuna only smiles at you and helps you off of the sink onto your shaky legs to begin cleaning yourself off. As you both make yourselves look presentable, something you’re putting much more effort into than him, he offers you a playful, “You’re welcome.”

You shoot him a look, much less warmed up to him now that the haze of lust has worn off.

He pats you on the back, then runs his hand down until he can squeeze at your ass. “You look much more relaxed.”

He takes a final look in the mirror and gives you another smile, still hungry despite having his appetites satisfied. “Looking forward to working with you.”

#my writing #reminder minors and ageless blogs get blocked #mma!au #mma!sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna #mma fighter!sukuna

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muiitoloko · 5 months ago

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Diamond Shadows

Summary: In a world where his life of crime clashes with his deepest affections, Hans Gruber navigates the perilous balance between heists and heartfelt romance.

Pairing: Hans Gruber × Fem! Reader

Warning: Smut, Theft, deception.

Author's Notes: I put a ton of effort into this one, so fingers crossed you guys enjoy it as much as I do! As always, your feedback is super appreciated!

Also read on Ao3

Hans Gruber chuckled darkly as he leaned back against the leather seat of the getaway car, the mask he had worn during the heist now discarded on the floor. The exhilaration of their recent robbery coursed through him, a heady mixture of adrenaline and satisfaction. Around him, his comrades examined the various bags of jewelry they had pilfered, the precious stones glinting in the dim light of the vehicle. The heist had gone off without a hitch, and the police were none the wiser, left chasing shadows as Hans and his crew made their escape.

“Look at this beauty,” one of the men, Dieter, exclaimed, holding up a necklace encrusted with diamonds. He let out a low whistle, his eyes gleaming with admiration. “My girl’s going to love this.”

Hans raised an eyebrow, a faint smile playing on his lips as he considered Dieter’s request. “Ja, just one,” he replied smoothly, his accent a polished German that rolled off his tongue with a natural ease. “But make sure it’s something that won’t be missed. We don’t want to draw unnecessary attention, understood?”

Dieter nodded eagerly, tucking the necklace into his jacket with a grin. “Got it, boss,” he said, his voice laced with excitement. “She’ll never know where it came from.”

Another of the crew, Karl, laughed as he examined a pair of sapphire earrings, their deep blue stones catching the light. “Hey, Hans,” he called out, his voice teasing. “What about you? Shouldn’t you take something for your girl too? Bet she’d love a bit of sparkle.”

Hans’s expression softened slightly at the mention of you. He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully as he considered Karl’s suggestion. You were blissfully unaware of his true profession, believing him to be a successful investor who made his money through savvy dealings and market acumen. It was a carefully crafted facade, one that Hans maintained with meticulous precision. The idea of giving you a gift—a tangible reminder of his affection—held a certain appeal, even if it came from ill-gotten gains.

“Perhaps,” Hans mused, his voice a low, contemplative murmur. He picked up a delicate bracelet from the pile, its slender chain adorned with small, glimmering diamonds. The piece was exquisite, subtle enough to avoid suspicion yet elegant enough to reflect your taste. He turned it over in his hand, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “She would appreciate something like this.”

Karl grinned, nudging another member of the crew with his elbow. “See? Even Hans has a soft spot,” he said with a chuckle. “Guess everyone likes to spoil their ladies a bit.”

Hans shot Karl a warning glance, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Enough,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. “Remember, discretion is key. We cannot afford to be reckless with our spoils.”

The crew nodded in agreement, their laughter fading into a more subdued appreciation of their haul. Hans leaned back again, his thoughts drifting to you as he considered the bracelet in his hand. You were the one person who brought a touch of normalcy to his otherwise tumultuous life, a beacon of light in the shadows he navigated so deftly. The idea of you wearing a piece of jewelry from this heist, oblivious to its true origins, was both ironic and oddly fitting.

Later that evening, after the crew had dispersed and the spoils were safely hidden away, Hans returned to his luxurious penthouse apartment. The city lights glittered outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a shimmering glow over the sleek, modern furnishings. Hans moved with a practiced grace, pouring himself a glass of fine cognac as he waited for you to arrive.

You had called earlier, excited to spend time with your busy boyfriend. The anticipation in your voice had been palpable, and Hans had smiled at the thought of surprising you with the bracelet.

When you finally arrived, your eyes lit up at the sight of him, your smile warm and genuine as you crossed the room to greet him. “Hans,” you murmured, your voice soft with affection as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

Hans’s expression softened, a genuine warmth in his eyes as he held you close, his fingers brushing lightly over your back. “And I, you,” he replied, his voice a smooth, cultured purr. He pulled back slightly, his gaze lingering on your face before he reached into his jacket pocket, producing the bracelet with a flourish. “I have something for you, meine Liebe. A little token of my affection.”

Your eyes widened in surprise as you took in the delicate piece of jewelry, your fingers trembling slightly as you reached out to take it. “Hans, it’s beautiful,” you breathed, your voice tinged with awe as you turned the bracelet over in your hands. “You didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to,” Hans interrupted gently, his eyes locking with yours as he clasped the bracelet around your wrist. The sight of it against your skin sent a thrill of satisfaction through him, the symbol of his affection blending seamlessly with the facade he had so carefully constructed. “It suits you perfectly.”

You examined the bracelet Hans had given you, its slender chain adorned with glimmering diamonds. Your breath caught in your throat as the reality of the gift sank in. These were real diamonds, not the imitation jewelry you might find in a typical store. The thought of how much it must have cost sent a shiver of disbelief through you.

“Hans,” you said, your voice trembling slightly as you met his gaze, “this is… it’s real, isn’t it? Real diamonds?”

Hans’s smile faltered slightly as he watched you, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. “Yes, of course,” he replied smoothly, his German accent lending a cultured elegance to his words. “Only the best for you, meine Liebe.”

You shook your head, your fingers trembling as you unclasped the bracelet and handed it back to him. “I can’t accept this,” you murmured, your voice filled with a mixture of awe and apprehension. “It must have cost a fortune. I could never afford something like this, and I don’t want you to spend so much on me. It’s too much.”

Hans’s brow furrowed as he took the bracelet, his eyes narrowing in a blend of confusion and mild frustration. “Nonsense,” he said firmly, his voice a low, soothing murmur as he stepped closer, the warmth of his body radiating against yours. “It’s just a token of my affection. The cost is irrelevant. What matters is that it brings you joy.”

You bit your lip, glancing down at the delicate piece of jewelry in his hands. The idea of wearing something so extravagant, knowing how much it must have cost, felt overwhelming. “But Hans,” you protested softly, looking up to meet his gaze, “I don’t want you to feel like you have to buy me expensive things. I love you for who you are, not for what you can give me. This… it’s just too much.”

Hans’s expression softened, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “Meine Liebe,” he murmured, his voice a tender, reassuring whisper, “you worry too much. This is nothing compared to the joy you bring into my life. I want to see you adorned in beauty because that’s how I see you—every day, every moment.”

You felt your resolve waver, his words wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Still, the thought of accepting such an expensive gift left you feeling uneasy. “But it’s so expensive,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you glanced back at the bracelet. “I could never repay you for something like this.”

Hans chuckled softly, a rich, velvety sound that sent a shiver of warmth through you. “Repay me?” he echoed, his tone laced with amusement as he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “Oh, my darling, you’ve already given me more than you can imagine. Your presence, your love… those are priceless to me. This bracelet is a mere trinket in comparison.”

His lips brushed against your ear, sending a delicious thrill through you as he murmured, “Let me spoil you, just this once. Wear it for me. Show me how beautiful you can be, adorned in diamonds.”

Your breath hitched at the seductive tone in his voice, the warmth of his breath against your skin igniting a spark of desire deep within you. The way he looked at you, his eyes dark with a mix of affection and barely restrained passion, made it hard to refuse him. “Hans,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mixture of reluctance and longing, “I… I don’t know.”

Hans’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, his fingers trailing down your side in a slow, deliberate caress that sent a shiver of anticipation through you. “Trust me, meine Liebe,” he murmured, his voice a low, seductive purr. “Let me adorn you with this gift. Let me see you wearing it, and nothing else.”

You gasped softly, the raw intensity in his eyes sending a rush of heat through your body. The thought of wearing the bracelet, and only the bracelet, while Hans’s gaze devoured you, was both thrilling and intimidating. Your heart raced as you nodded slowly, your breath catching in your throat. “Alright,” you whispered, your voice a breathless murmur as you met his gaze. “But only because you want me to.”

A slow, satisfied smile spread across Hans’s lips as he clasped the bracelet around your wrist once more, the cool metal resting against your skin. His fingers brushed over your pulse, sending a delicious tingle up your arm as he stepped back to admire you. “Perfect,” he murmured, his voice a rough, appreciative growl as his eyes roamed over your body. “You’re breathtaking.”

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks at his words, a mixture of embarrassment and pleasure warming your skin. The way he looked at you, his eyes dark with a fierce, unyielding desire, made you feel both vulnerable and incredibly powerful. You shifted slightly, the cool metal of the bracelet a tangible reminder of his affection as you met his gaze with a tentative smile. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “For everything.”

Hans’s smile softened, a flicker of genuine warmth in his eyes as he stepped closer, his fingers trailing lightly over your arm. “You’re welcome, meine Liebe,” he murmured, his voice a low, tender whisper as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your neck in a gentle kiss. “Now, let me show you just how much you mean to me.”

His hands slid down your sides, his touch firm and possessive as he pulled you closer, his breath hot against your skin. The intensity in his eyes, the raw hunger that burned in his gaze, sent a shiver of anticipation through you as he whispered, “Tonight, you’re mine. Every inch of you, adorned in diamonds, belongs to me.”

You gasped softly, the heat of his words sending a delicious thrill through your body as you melted into his embrace, your heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and longing. “Yes,” you breathed, your voice a soft, breathless murmur as you looked up at him. “I’m yours, Hans. All yours.”

But Hans suddenly released you, a playful glint in his eyes as he stepped back, the warmth of his embrace lingering on your skin. His smile turned mischievous, a sharp contrast to the intensity of his previous words. “Patience, meine Liebe,” he murmured, his voice a soft, teasing purr. “All in good time. For now, I must prepare dinner.”

You blinked in surprise, a pout forming on your lips as you looked up at him. “Hans, you can’t just leave me hanging like this,” you protested, your voice laced with a mix of frustration and longing.

Hans chuckled, the sound a rich, velvety caress as he ran a hand through his dark hair, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “I enjoy playing with you,” he replied smoothly, his German accent lending a cultured elegance to his words. “And anticipation, my dear, can be its own kind of pleasure. Now, be a good girl and wait for me in the living room.”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you met his gaze with a look of playful exasperation. “Do I at least get to help? Or am I just supposed to sit there and look pretty?”

Hans’s smile widened, a flicker of warmth in his eyes as he stepped closer, his fingers trailing lightly over your arm. “Tonight, your only task is to look pretty and relax,” he said softly, his voice a gentle murmur as he brushed a kiss against your forehead. “Let me take care of everything else. It’s my way of spoiling you, remember?”

You sighed, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips as you nodded. “Alright, fine,” you conceded, your tone tinged with a hint of playfulness. “But don’t keep me waiting too long, Hans.”

Hans’s eyes darkened with a promise of later delights as he took a step back, rolling up his sleeves to reveal the intricate tattoo on his forearm—a design that held personal significance for him, though he had never shared its meaning with you. “I won’t,” he assured you, his voice a low, seductive growl as he turned towards the open kitchen. “Now, go on. I’ll call you when dinner is ready.”

You watched as he tied an apron around his waist, the sight of him preparing to cook adding a touch of domesticity to the otherwise sophisticated atmosphere of the penthouse. With a soft sigh, you turned and made your way to the living room, settling onto the plush sofa as you reached for the remote, flicking on the TV.

The evening news filled the screen, the anchor’s voice a steady drone as they recounted the day’s events. You barely paid attention, your thoughts drifting back to Hans and the promise of what was to come. But a particular story caught your ear, drawing your gaze to the screen.

“Tonight’s top story: A daring robbery at a high-end jewelry store leaves authorities baffled,” the anchor reported, her tone grave as she described the heist. “Masked men made off with a significant haul of valuable items, including rare diamonds and precious gemstones. The police are investigating, but so far, no leads on the identity of the perpetrators.”

Your eyes widened slightly at the mention of the robbery, a flicker of unease stirring in your chest as you glanced down at the bracelet Hans had given you. The delicate chain, the glimmering diamonds… They were exquisite, certainly, but you had never considered their origin. The connection between the news report and the bracelet on your wrist didn’t quite register, your thoughts too focused on the evening with Hans to draw any conclusions.

Shaking off the unease, you turned your attention back to the TV, trying to immerse yourself in the light chatter of the evening program. The sound of Hans moving in the kitchen, the clink of dishes and the soft hum of his voice as he prepared dinner, was a comforting backdrop, grounding you in the moment.

After what felt like an eternity, though it was likely only a short while, Hans called from the kitchen, his voice rich with a teasing lilt. “Dinner is served, meine Liebe. Join me, won’t you?”

You smiled, the anticipation that had been simmering within you reigniting as you rose from the sofa and made your way to the dining area. The table was set with elegant simplicity, the soft glow of candlelight casting a warm, intimate light over the polished wood. Hans stood by the stove, his sleeves still rolled up, a satisfied smile on his lips as he turned to greet you.

“Everything smells wonderful,” you said, your voice filled with genuine appreciation as you took in the sight of the carefully prepared dishes. “You’ve outdone yourself, Hans.”

Hans’s smile widened, a flicker of pride in his eyes as he set the final dish on the table, gesturing for you to take a seat. “Only the best for you,” he replied smoothly, his accent a soft, cultured murmur as he poured you a glass of wine, the rich, ruby liquid catching the candlelight. “I hope you enjoy it.”

You settled into your chair, your gaze lingering on Hans as he took his place across from you, his eyes dark and warm as he watched you. The meal was exquisite, each bite a testament to Hans’s culinary skill and his dedication to making the evening special for you.

As you savored the flavors, the earlier news report faded from your mind, replaced by the warmth of Hans’s presence and the promise of the night ahead. The bracelet on your wrist glinted in the candlelight, a silent testament to Hans’s affection, its true origins still a mystery you were blissfully unaware of.

Hans raised his glass, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of affection and intensity. “To us,” he murmured, his voice a low, seductive growl that sent a shiver of anticipation through you. “And to many more evenings like this.”

You smiled, lifting your glass to clink it against his, the warmth of his gaze and the richness of his voice filling you with a deep, abiding contentment. “To us,” you echoed softly, your voice filled with a genuine affection as you met his gaze. “And to the wonderful surprises you always bring into my life.”

Later that night, after the plates were cleared and the last of the wine was sipped, Hans led you to the bedroom with a palpable air of anticipation. The candlelight flickered, casting playful shadows on the walls, creating an intimate ambiance that contrasted starkly with the intensity of Hans's touch. The elegance of the evening was about to give way to the raw, unrestrained passion that simmered beneath his refined exterior.

Hans’s hands were firm as he gripped your hips, his eyes dark with desire as he guided you to the bed. The delicate bracelet still glinted on your wrist, a symbol of the duality of the man who now loomed over you. “Meine Liebe,” he murmured, his voice a low, seductive growl thick with his German accent, “it’s time for the main course.”

He pulled you into a fierce, hungry kiss, his tongue claiming your mouth with a possessive urgency that left you breathless. His hands roamed over your body, rough and insistent, as he pushed you down onto the bed. You felt the cool air against your skin as he stripped away your clothing, each piece discarded with a careless ease that spoke of his impatience.

With one hand, Hans gripped your hip, holding you in place as he positioned himself between your legs. The other hand tangled in your hair, pulling you back to arch against him, his breath hot against your neck as he whispered in your ear, “You’re mine tonight, every inch of you. Do you understand?”

You nodded, a soft whimper escaping your lips as you felt the hard length of him pressing against your entrance. “Yes, Hans,” you breathed, your voice trembling with anticipation. “I’m yours. All yours.”

A dark, satisfied smile spread across his lips as he thrust into you, his cock filling you with a powerful, claiming motion that left you gasping. “Good girl,” he growled, his voice thick with a primal, unyielding desire. “Take me. Take every inch of me.”

Hans was relentless, his thrusts hard and deep, each movement a fierce, demanding claim on your body. His hand on your hip tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as he drove into you with a rough, unrestrained passion. The pain mingled with pleasure, sending shivers of sensation through your body as you arched against him, your breath coming in short, uneven gasps.

“Scheiße,” he muttered under his breath, his voice a rough, guttural whisper as he watched you. “You feel so good, meine Liebe. So tight around me.”

His hand in your hair tugged harder, pulling your head back to expose your neck, his teeth grazing over your skin with a delicious mix of pain and pleasure. “You like this, don’t you?” he growled, his breath hot against your ear. “You like it when I’m rough with you. When I fuck you hard and make you scream my name.”

You could only moan in response, the intensity of his thrusts driving coherent thought from your mind. The feel of his cock stretching you, filling you completely, was overwhelming, each movement pushing you closer to the edge. “Yes, Hans,” you gasped, your voice a desperate, breathless plea. “Please, don’t stop. Fuck me harder.”

A dark chuckle rumbled in his chest as he obliged, his pace quickening, his thrusts growing more urgent. “That’s it, meine Liebe,” he murmured, his voice a low, seductive purr. “Take it. Take all of me. You’re mine. Only mine.”

The room was filled with the sounds of your combined pleasure, the raw, primal rhythm of his body against yours driving you both towards release. Hans’s growls of satisfaction, your gasps and moans, the slap of skin against skin—all merged into a symphony of unrestrained desire.

You felt the pressure building within you, each thrust pushing you closer to the brink. Your body trembled, your fingers clenching the sheets as you teetered on the edge of climax. “Hans,” you sobbed, your voice a desperate, pleading cry. “I’m going to—”

“Come for me,” he commanded, his voice a rough, primal growl as he drove into you with a final, powerful thrust. “Come for me now, meine Liebe.”

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing with the intensity of your release. You screamed his name, the sound echoing in the room as pleasure rippled through you in overwhelming waves.

Hans's grip on your hips tightened as you rode the waves of your climax, the intensity of your release leaving you gasping and trembling beneath him. His dark eyes gleamed with a fierce, possessive hunger as he watched you, his expression a blend of satisfaction and unrestrained desire. The rough cadence of his breath and the flush of heat on his skin mirrored the primal urgency of the moment, a raw testament to the depth of his need for you.

As your body convulsed with the aftershocks of your orgasm, Hans’s hands slid down to grasp your thighs, his touch firm and demanding. He pulled your legs up, positioning them over his shoulders with a deft, practiced motion. The shift in angle sent a jolt of fresh sensation through you, your overstimulated body responding with a renewed burst of pleasure.

"Look at you," Hans growled, his voice a rough, seductive whisper thick with his German accent, the rich tones rolling off his tongue like dark honey. "So pliant, so ready for me. Do you know how much I love seeing you like this? Completely at my mercy."

You could only moan in response, your limbs limp and flexible from the intensity of your climax, the sensation of his cock buried deep within you pushing you to the brink of another orgasm. Your body arched instinctively towards him, your fingers curling into the sheets as he began to move, each thrust a powerful, demanding claim on your pleasure.

Hans's lips curled into a wicked smile as he watched you, the fierce, unyielding hunger in his gaze sending shivers of anticipation through you. "That's it," he murmured, his voice a low, rough purr as he adjusted his grip on your legs, holding you open for him. "Take me. Take every inch of me. You belong to me, and tonight, I’m going to show you just how much."

With a growl of satisfaction, he drove into you with a force that left you gasping, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through your already sensitive body. The angle, the intensity, the roughness of his movements—all combined to create a symphony of sensation that had you crying out in ecstasy, your voice a breathless plea as you clung to the sheets.

“Scheiße,” Hans muttered under his breath, his eyes darkening with a fierce, unrestrained desire as he watched you. “You feel so good, meine Liebe. So tight and wet. Every time I’m inside you, it feels like I’m losing control. Like I’m drowning in you.”

Your breath came in short, uneven gasps, each thrust driving you closer to the edge once more. The rough friction of his cock against your inner walls, the feel of his hands gripping your thighs, the raw intensity in his gaze—all combined to push you to the brink of another climax. “Hans,” you sobbed, your voice a desperate, breathless cry. “Please… I can’t… I’m going to—”

“Come for me,” Hans commanded, his voice a rough, primal growl as he drove into you with a renewed urgency, his movements growing more frantic, more demanding. “Come for me again, meine Liebe. Let me feel you fall apart around me.”

With a final, powerful thrust, Hans pushed you over the edge once more, your orgasm crashing over you in waves of overwhelming pleasure. Your body convulsed, your cries of ecstasy filling the room as you clung to the sheets, the intensity of your release leaving you trembling and breathless beneath him.

Hans’s growl of satisfaction was a low, primal sound as he felt you clenching around him, the sensation driving him to the brink of his own climax. “Fuck,” he muttered, his voice a rough, guttural whisper as he buried himself deep inside you, his movements growing more urgent, more insistent with each passing moment. “You’re mine, meine Liebe. All mine.”

The feel of his cock pulsing inside you, the raw intensity of his thrusts, the way his hands gripped your thighs with a possessive force—it was all too much. Your body arched instinctively towards him, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as you teetered on the edge of yet another climax.

Hans’s gaze darkened, a fierce, unyielding hunger burning in his eyes as he watched you, his breath hot against your skin. “Look at you,” he murmured, his voice a low, rough purr as he drove into you with a final, powerful thrust. “So beautiful, so perfect. You belong to me, meine Liebe. Only to me.”

With a growl of satisfaction, Hans reached his own climax, his body tensing as he buried himself deep inside you, his release a powerful, overwhelming surge that left him gasping and trembling with the intensity of his pleasure. The feel of his cock pulsing inside you, the way his hands gripped your thighs with a bruising force, the raw, unrestrained passion in his gaze—it was all too much, driving you to the brink of yet another orgasm.

Your cries of ecstasy mingled with his growls of satisfaction, the room filled with the sounds of your combined pleasure as you clung to each other, the intensity of the moment binding you together in a raw, primal dance of unrestrained desire.

In the aftermath, as the echoes of your release faded and the room fell into a hushed, intimate silence, Hans’s hands slid down to cradle your legs, his touch gentle and soothing as he lowered them from his shoulders. His breath came in short, uneven gasps, his eyes dark with a lingering hunger as he watched you, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across his lips.

“Meine Liebe,” he murmured, his voice a low, tender whisper as he leaned in to brush a kiss against your forehead. “You were incredible. Absolutely breathtaking.”

You could only nod, your breath still coming in short, ragged gasps as you clung to him, the warmth of his body a comforting presence against yours. “Hans,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mixture of exhaustion and lingering desire. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

Hans’s smile softened, a flicker of genuine warmth in his eyes as he pulled you into his arms, holding you close. “You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured, his voice a gentle, reassuring murmur. “Just rest, meine Liebe. Tonight, you’re mine. All mine.”

As you lay there in his arms, the warmth of his embrace a comforting balm to your exhausted body, you couldn’t help but feel a deep, abiding contentment. The intensity of the evening, the raw, unrestrained passion you had shared—it was a testament to the depth of your connection, a reminder of the fierce, unyielding bond that bound you together.

And as you drifted into a deep, restful sleep, the last thing you felt was the gentle brush of Hans’s lips against your forehead, a silent promise of his unwavering affection and the raw, unrestrained desire that burned between you.

Hans lay beside you, his chest rising and falling with each measured breath as he tried to calm down from his own powerful climax. The room was filled with the lingering scent of sweat and sex, the heat of your bodies mingling in the intimate aftermath of your lovemaking. One arm rested behind his head, his gaze drifting to the ceiling as he savored the contentment that settled over him, the raw, unrestrained passion of the evening still thrumming in his veins.

For a moment, Hans allowed himself the luxury of stillness, the steady rhythm of your breathing a soothing counterpoint to his own rapid heartbeat. His eyes softened as he looked at you, your features relaxed in sleep, the delicate bracelet still gleaming on your wrist—a silent reminder of the world outside this intimate sanctuary.

The serenity was short-lived, however, as the sharp trill of his cell phone pierced the quiet. Hans’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of irritation crossing his features as he reached over to the nightstand, fishing out the cigarette and lighter he had stashed away earlier. With practiced ease, he lit the cigarette, the flare of the flame casting brief, dancing shadows on the walls. The phone’s persistent ring continued, a reminder of the world that demanded his attention.

Exhaling a stream of smoke, Hans picked up the phone, his expression shifting to one of focused intensity as he glanced at the caller ID. This was the call he had been waiting for. Rising from the bed with a fluid grace that belied the weight of his actions, Hans moved towards the porch, the cool night air brushing against his bare skin as he stepped outside. The cigarette glowed faintly in the darkness, a solitary beacon in the muted light of the cityscape that stretched out below.

Ignoring his naked state, Hans answered the call, his voice slipping effortlessly into a polished French accent as he spoke. “Bonsoir,” he greeted smoothly, the German undertones of his natural voice masked by the refined lilt of his chosen guise. “I trust everything is in order?”

The voice on the other end was clipped, efficient, tinged with a barely concealed eagerness. “Monsieur Lacroix,” the buyer replied, using the alias Hans had provided. “Everything is set. We have the funds ready, but we need to confirm the authenticity of the items before we proceed.”

Hans’s lips curled into a knowing smile, the cigarette held between his fingers as he leaned against the railing, his gaze fixed on the glittering expanse of the city below. “But of course,” he purred, his tone one of practiced reassurance. “You will find everything to be in perfect order. The pieces are exquisite, and I assure you, they are worth every penny of your investment.”

The buyer hesitated, a flicker of doubt in his voice. “You understand, Monsieur Lacroix, that our associates are quite… particular about such transactions. Any discrepancy could be costly.”

Hans’s eyes narrowed, his smile turning sharp as he took another drag from the cigarette, the smoke curling lazily into the night air. “Rest assured, there will be no discrepancies,” he replied, his voice carrying a quiet, dangerous authority that brooked no argument. “The items are authentic, and the transaction will proceed as planned. You will have your jewels, and I will have my payment. Agreed?”

There was a brief pause, the weight of Hans’s words hanging heavy in the air before the buyer responded, his tone one of reluctant acquiescence. “Agreed. We will finalize the details tomorrow. Ensure the items are ready for inspection.”

Hans’s smile widened, a flicker of satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as he exhaled a final stream of smoke, crushing the cigarette underfoot. “Très bien,” he said softly, his voice a silken caress as he ended the call. “I look forward to our continued partnership.”

With a casual flick of his wrist, Hans tossed the phone onto the nearby table, his thoughts already shifting to the logistics of the exchange. The jewelry, currently hidden away in a secure location, would be laundered through a series of carefully orchestrated transactions, each layer adding to the complexity of the web he had woven. The buyer, an intermediary for a network of high-end collectors, would provide the necessary funds, which Hans would then channel through his intricate network, transforming the illicit profits into clean, untraceable assets.

Returning to the bedroom, Hans’s gaze softened as he took in the sight of you, still sleeping peacefully amidst the rumpled sheets. The contrast between the ruthless efficiency of his dealings and the tender warmth he felt for you was stark, a reminder of the duality that defined his existence. He moved silently, his bare feet making no sound on the polished wood floor as he approached the bed, his eyes lingering on the delicate bracelet that adorned your wrist.

Carefully, Hans slid back into the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight as he pulled you into his arms, his touch gentle and possessive. The cool metal of the bracelet brushed against his skin, a tangible connection between the world of shadows he navigated and the light you brought into his life.

“Meine Liebe,” he murmured softly, his voice a low, tender whisper as he pressed a kiss to your temple, the warmth of your body a comforting presence against his. “Sleep well. Tomorrow, we face the world together.”

As you nestled closer, your breathing steady and even in the embrace of sleep, Hans allowed himself a moment of quiet reflection. The path he walked was fraught with danger, each step a careful balance between the persona he presented to the world and the ruthless ambition that drove him. But here, in the quiet sanctuary of your shared bed, he found a measure of peace, a fleeting glimpse of the man he might have been, had circumstances been different.

And as the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, casting a pale glow over the city that lay beneath him, Hans tightened his hold on you, his thoughts already turning to the challenges of the day ahead. The heist, the buyer, the intricate dance of deception and strategy—it was all part of the game he played, a game where the stakes were high and the rewards even higher.

But for now, in this moment, he allowed himself the luxury of simply holding you, the warmth of your body a balm to the shadows that lingered at the edges of his mind.

Translations:

1. Ja – Yes (German)

2. Meine Liebe – My love (German)

3. Bonsoir – Good evening (French)

4. Monsieur Lacroix – Mr. Lacroix (French)

5. Mais bien sûr – But of course (French)

6. Très bien – Very well (French)

7. Scheiße – Shit (German)

#alan rickman #alan rickman x reader #hans gruber x reader #hans gruber #die hard

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oxymorayuri · 5 months ago

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❞𝐍𝐨 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬❝

Part eight

storys masterlist. ♡♡♡

✦ Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x Reader ✦ Warnings: none ✦ Spoiler: none

wordcount: 4187

tagging: @lazyninjatheorist - @sassyyassi - @cottoncandyloverrrr - @littleleelee

! ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ !

ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ

Near the harbor where you arrived on the first day, you sit at a small café. The streets are busy as ever and at the market next door, the stall owners are haggling hard with tourists.

The typical tricks of the street merchants are being pulled… Everyone claims to have the 'finest' goods and if someone is stupid enough to approach the seller, they are lulled into compliments or promises being made.

Those earrings which match her ~beautiful~ eyes... The cure that makes their hair grow... The usual nonsense.

The remarkable thing is their charm. Maybe you see a parallel here, or catch yourself learning something, but their talent is noteworthy. If anyone knows how to sell something, it's the street merchants.

They immediately recognize their potential customers, simply by watching people walk through the streets. They speak to people in a systematic way, have prepared phrases for various types and are in most cases successful.

Sipping your coffee, you observe a rather interesting scene. Near you is a jewelry stall with probably fake goods, you just can't imagine that this sleazy guy who sells the goods is legitimate. You doubt it but you listen intently as he tries to sell the 'latest' fashions to a young couple.

However, the young woman who is his prime target doesn't seem to be very sure herself. But she seems rather shy and admits that she can't afford something so fancy.

The grin on the salesman's lips is visibly nasty, which would set off all your alarm bells, but the man plays it off by reaching for the lady's hands in a friendly manner and announcing that he would give her a discount. You can literally feel that he almost has her.

He puts the necklace on her, complimented her and when he realized that she still wasn't budging, he turned to her boyfriend. “Don't you think she looks beautiful wearing that?” He mentioned more, forcing him to agree, and eventually the poor guy caved in and bought the necklace from him; for an exorbitant price.

You shake your head. Those damn tricksters, but you can't help grinning as you bring your coffee to your mouth. You are the same, no, worse but you see more class in yourself. Besides, there's a big difference between you and the mediocre street hustlers.

While you, as a trickster, recognize that he is a scammer, he would never in a million years realize that you are also a trickster. You're a fucking professional.

You can only survive in this world if you are like this world. A criminal.

Thoughtfully and without realizing it, you stare at Ace, who is devouring his slice of cake without a care in the world. He notices that you are absently staring at him and tries to convince you to try a spoon.

His grin is wide as he holds the spoon out to you. His refreshing manner is exactly what has caught your attention since day one. He is always very playful. You literally admire him for his carefree spirit, while inside your head there's never silence.

You open your mouth while your chin rests in one hand and Ace puts the spoon in your mouth.

Ace looks satisfied while you savour the sweetness on your tongue. Are you really letting Ace feed you right now? You smirk to yourself. Who cares. You're bored because you've been watching a certain building for a while now...

The building in question doesn't exactly look like a apartment building or like it's abandoned, but it still looks like it's not accessible to everyone...

It looks like an upscale place. The facade is neat, plant pots to the left and right of the polished glass door, but it's all dark and you can't see anything through the black windows.

It looks like a store but it's closed, yet it's late in the afternoon. You've been here since morning and you're on your fifth cup of coffee and not once has it been open. There are no displayed opening hours, no proper advertising, no outside signs, nothing. It's just a well kept building? You don't think so.

Ace follows your blank stare and looks at the building. He has to turn a little because the building is behind him and continues to chomp on his dessert.

With his mouth full, he turns to you and speaks without shame.

“Do you think it's that house?” Over the last few days you've walked every street, looking for the brothel the gangsters on the ship were talking about.

The Moulin Rouge. In bars and other public places, nobody knew the name. It seemed a bit strange to you, as some people seemed to want to change the subject, or were quick to recommend other places. However, it would be foolish to push for answers. So you apologized kindly and said you must have mixed things up.

Jackpot, you thought immediately.

So, the Moulin Rouge is one of the places Doflamingo wants to hide. You know that it exists and you are pretty sure that the brothel you are looking for is behind the walls of this building.

But why does no one go in and out there? That's the only entrance in front of you. You've already walked around the house a couple of times. There's no cellar door, no back entrance, nothing.

“What do you think?” You are audibly bored, judging by your voice. This building is your only clue to the brothel. He shrugs his shoulders.

“I don't know, I just wonder how this is supposed to help us get to the palace.” You briefly consider how to explain your thoughts to him. His mind doesn't seem to be as entangled as yours, but that's exactly why Whitebeard sends you on missions like this. Like a profiler or master detective, you understand your targets and get information without anyone getting suspicious.

“You know Ace, to figure out what the bad guys are doing, you have to think like a bad guy.” - “Aren't we classified as evil and dangerous? I mean, we're pirates.” He looks a little thoughtful. You are wanted and shunned people after all.

You even made him wear a shirt all the time, so no one would see his jolly roger tattoo. You've disguised yourselves, and Ace isn't even wearing his hat. After all, people might recognize you otherwise. Well, they'd probably recognize Ace, because Ace is known as a pirate, while your face remains unknown.

When you're out in the streets as a Whitebeard pirate, you cover your head with a scarf to hide your face, leaving only your eyes exposed. You frown briefly. Sometimes you're a bit stupid yourself and you laugh a little, which causes confusion for Ace.

“Sure, we're pirates. But we're only a threat to those who feel threatened, not because we do evil…”

You are also the bad guys. Well, according to the World Government… But in your eyes, you're not. Anyone who messes with you usually deserves to fall, and that's not meant to sound arrogant. You don't really know... you never wanted to follow Whitebeard because you were offered wealth, power or possessions. You follow him because you trust and admire him as a human being.

He gave you personal freedom. From an early age, you have witnessed the darker side of humanity and can confirm that there is shadow on every side.

He snorts at your smug remark and sways his drink with a toothy grin. He leans back and looks at the strolling passersby. His grin remained for the moment while he was lost in thought, but you watch it fade.

His typical facial expression now looked rather serious? Very unusual and you suddenly find yourself wanting to know more. More about the Ace, who is usually so easygoing.

You watch him attentively as his pupils follow someone until that person disappears behind his back and reappears in your field of vision.

Now your eyes are following a pretty big man walking in the direction of the building. He's casually dressed in dark, but fine looking clothes, and his stride gives off a confident air, yet he looks like danger. His hair is slicked back and you can almost smell his perfume. Compared to the building, he matches the picture perfectly.

“Ohoho Ace, now it's getting interesting.” You can tell that he wants to turn around, but you grab his hand and shake your head. You pay attention to the man as he reaches into his trouser pocket to take out a key. He unlocks the door and before he steps inside, two young and attractively dressed ladies call out to him.

He greets the ladies with a naughty grin and has a quick chat with them. You have to concentrate a bit to make out their words, but luckily they are not far away.

“Hey girls, ready for your first shift?” They chuckle and while he puts an arm around each of their shoulders, he disappears into the building with them.

With your eyes still on the closed glass door, you forget that you are still holding Ace's hand. He clears his throat, bringing you out of your thoughts and you tilt your head questioningly as you look him in the face.

His face cracks into a smirk. You seem to have no idea what he's hinting at which he finds really cute. Only after he gives your hand a little squeeze you finally realize that you're still holding hands. You automatically want to pull your hand away, but he refuses to let go and his grip tightens.

Even with red cheeks, you try to maintain a calm posture in front of him. Let him eye you with his mischievous smile and hold your hand… You don't mind, you tell yourself.

Ace can tell that your mind is wandering around. He looks longingly into your eyes as he rests his chin on his hand.

His warm fingers stroke the palm of your hand, skillfully and barely touching your skin, and yet your heart is racing like crazy. You feel goose bumps spreading and the gentle touch makes you want to scratch your hand, but you just stare at him, a little disturbed.

It tickles but it's still pleasant...

For a moment, you completely forget your surroundings. You are careless, as you will later curse yourself. You have no time to get involved with Ace, now that something is moving in the house, but why is it so hard to look away?

It's almost impossible to maintain control when Ace is touching you like this. You'd have to scratch your eyes out, if you didn't want to see his freckled kissed face.

He's just flirting with you. He doesn't even talk to you, he just looks at you with those intense, amorous eyes.

Damn that's annoying. You grit your teeth. You already knew Ace wasn't going to back down, but who knew you'd react like this?

Why do your knees go weak when he looks you in the eyes? Why does everything fall silent while you run your eyes over his lips? How come, he has you under his spell?

You don't understand... you don't understand yourself.

Looking irritated, you stand up and Ace lets easily go of your hand. He seems somewhat unimpressed as he looks up at you, as if he knows about your conflicting thoughts.

“I'll get us something new to drink…” You make a short and curt excuse and disappear into the café.

After some time of waiting, the man who unlocked the door came out again and guarded the entrance as a bouncer.

You didn't want to waste any more time and went straight there with Ace, throwing a bag of money on the table as you went. The waitress almost fainted when she saw the amount.

That money was more than enough to cover your expenses. That's a whole month's salary for all the staff at the cafe! You're an eternal heroine in the waitress's heart, but you'll never know it...

But before you could speak to the bouncer, he raised his huge hand in front of your faces and you stopped in your tracks. You and Ace look at each other in surprise, but your confusion is quickly cleared up after the man explains himself.

“This is no place for lovers and certainly not for women.” Not a place for women? You're surprised, but you quickly put on your mask. You sigh a little sadly and play dumb.

“Aww, I thought this was a classy restaurant…” - “A restaurant? Do you see a menu around here? It's a burlesque, the Moulin Rouge! If you want your man to get horny over our girls, then go ahead, get in.” Visibly annoyed, he made it clear that you should leave.

You and Ace make an offended and appalled face, but a triumphant sound rings in your head. Bingo!

“You big meanie, we're leaving already.” You don't waste time arguing and turn around, tossing your hair over your shoulder. If women aren't wanted in there, you'd probably attract a lot of attention, so you'll have to make plans again… Maybe keep an eye on what kind of people come in and visit…?

Just as you walk into the luxurious hotel lobby, a familiar figure appears in the corner of your eye. You reach for Ace and quickly sit down on a sofa in front of the reception desk.

You reach for a huge newspaper and hide behind it. Caught by surprise, Ace looks at you and he understands from your attentive gaze that you are actively watching someone. He looks around like an idiot and can't quite make out who exactly you're watching.

You roll your eyes and wave him towards you, indicating that he should come behind your newspaper.

“See that guy in the back?” Your and Ace's eyes peer cautiously over the edge of the newspaper. A few meters away from you, a group of expensively dressed gentlemen are sitting in a small lounge in front of the casino.

Ace's eyes move to yours and you form a hook with your hand, like a pirate's hook. Ace's eyebrows go up a little.

“Do you mean Crocodile?” he whispers to you.

“Exactly.” You look over again. Another man joined the group and after a short while they made their way into the casino.

You think about it.

What is Sir Crocodile doing here?

You think back to your time in Alabasta. You know he was doing business with Doflamingo. But it was mostly about trading weapons and prostitutes…

“Maybe he's a guest?” Ace's words startle you. You pull down the newspaper, now that Crocodile is gone you don't have to hide.

“Ace, you're a genius!” You don't quite want to admit it, but with that idea he's given you the missing piece of the puzzle. You grab him excitedly by one shoulder and give him a kiss on the cheek.

"Huh a genius…?"

His face is slightly flushed and there is a greasy grin on his lips, which makes you want to smack him on the back of the head, but you pull him up because you have to get after Crocodile quickly.

You get the feeling that he's your golden ticket. But you're not quite sure how to go about it. After all, he knows you and unfortunately you two parted quite dramatically…

He shouldn't see you for now... who knows why he's here. You decide that you shouldn't get involved with him unnecessarily.

You lead Ace to the bar with quick steps when you saw where Crocodile is seated. Once again he has settled down with his group in a small seating area and a lovely lady is now at his side.

At the bar you are turned with your back to the people, from this small distance he would immediately recognize you, thus you keep your back to him.

“Why Crocodile?” Ace asks you, turning his head slightly towards you. Your eyes go up to him. You wonder how much you should tell him about yourself and Crocodile. He should know that you used to work under him, shouldn't he? Who knows, maybe he's forgotten.

But you're sure he'll still have questions about why Crocodile shouldn't see you. But that's a problem if it comes to that, so you spare him a few details.

“He did business with Doflamingo and who knows, maybe he's not just a hotel guest but a guest at Doflamingo's party, right?” Your lips form into a small, confident smile and Ace smirks, glancing down.

Your eyes linger on Ace's side profile and you wonder what's going on in that pretty little head of his. His gaze meets your eyes again and without realizing it you grin at him. Ace shakes his head at you, but the smile doesn't leave his face for a second.

How can you be so cute? In his eyes, you're probably the most interesting woman he's ever met. His life has always been an adventure, but being with you makes him feel like he's in a classic movie. The sparkle in your eyes as you look at him so confidently is another picture he has saved in his mind.

“Oh sweet y/n, you're so pretty when you're all confident.” You gasp unexpectedly, startled by the sound that came from your lips. Excuse me, what the hell did he say?!

He needs to stop catching you off guard like that, damn Ace.

You are still unable to form proper words in your head and this only makes Ace laugh more. A little angry, you kick him in the side with your elbow.

“You better make yourself useful and tell me if that woman is still sitting next to Sir Crocodile.” He salutes you and turns his upper body sideways into the room to get an view.

“Yup, she's still sitting next to him and it looks like they're having a lovely time…” - “Hmmm I see… I think I have a funny idea!"

Ace puts his head questioningly to one side and you make a beckoning movement with your index finger. He comes closer to you and you whisper something quietly to him.

As you make some space between you again, you nod approvingly to each other. Now is the time to shine!

You suddenly burst into tears and whimper a few words while Ace comforts you. He strokes your back and encourages you with his words.

"I know this doesn't look good... Although I hate to hold it against you... but I told you so.” Ace's well spoken words unfortunately and intentionally cause you to burst into more tears.

Your crying attracts attention at the bar and a bartender arrives with a worried expression and interferes in your conversation.

“Hey, are you all right?” she spoke directly to you, but with whimpering lips you pretended you could hardly speak a word… that's how 'upset' you are…

“Not really, unfortunately.” Ace looks around briefly and then leans over to the bartender.

“My sister and I are here to catch her cheating husband…” The lady looks shocked and puts on a sympathetic face. Nodding, you wipe the tears from your cheeks with a handkerchief. Your puffy puppy eyes look up at the woman and Ace strokes your back to encourage you while you try not to burst out crying again.

“Could you perhaps do me a favor?” The woman nods hastily. Man or woman, you quickly have them in your hands.

“Of course I'll help, we women have to stick together!” she grabs your hand and looks determined.

Easy peasy. You hide your mischievous smile behind your handkerchief. It's always so easy…

you sniffle again in a whiny voice before you speak.

“You know, my husband is sitting over there with a young woman, they seem very familiar and I've been afraid for a long time that he might be cheating on me, but I honestly couldn't face it…” - “Oh no, that man over there? Sir Crocodile?” you gulp and nod.

"Yes, exactly. He seems to be well known here? Does he often come with a female companion?” Your fake tears well up in your eyes again.

“Hey sis, please calm down…” Ace plays the worried brother perfectly. The woman bites her lip and looks to the side, a little troubled.

“Sir Crocodile is a valued guest in this casino… and the lady at his side is one of his employees.” - “Oh my God an employee?!” You bury your face in your hands and start to cry ugly. Ace puts an arm around your shoulder and smoothly takes over the conversation.

"My sister used to be his employee, just like this woman. He promised her the world and asked her to marry him…" - “Oh no you poor woman… let me pour you a drink, it's on the house.”

She turns for a moment to fetch two glasses from the shelf. At that moment, you and Ace share a coy grin. Oh yeah, now you get a free drink! Awesome!

She pushed the drinks towards you and propped her arms on the counter to lean towards you.

"Okay girl, what do you want to know. There's a lot of information going around here in the casino and maybe I can help you." - “Thank you so much, really!” You feign joy and gratitude. Although it's not quite an act. You're really grateful to her, for buying your act.

“Back home, Crocodile told me that he had to travel to Dressrosa for some business. Normally I don't ask questions, but I became a bit suspicious.” You blush a little and pretend to be a silly girl.

“I was reading the newspaper that the King Donquixote Doflamingo was throwing a fancy gala party and I immediately knew that's why Croco was here.” Your bleary eyes glance briefly at Ace, who has to pull himself together not to blow his cover, because he is so impressed by your acting.

You look a little sheepishly at the woman.

“I wonder if he didn't tell me on purpose, because he might be going there with that woman; or if he's really just here for work…” The woman taps her chin thoughtfully.

“Luckily, I know the woman at his side. She used to work here in the casino before she started working for him. I could ask her, but he's definitely invited to the gala. After all, Donquixote Doflamingo is a VIP at the Moulin Rouge…" Ace's eyebrows go up by reflex at the mention of the burlesque.

You step lightly on his foot, telling him to control his face, but luckily she hasn't noticed.

“Would it be possible for you to let me know?” You write a number on a small piece of paper and pass it to her.

"That's my room number. If you could tell me if she's his plus one, it would help me a lot.” - “Sure!”

You talk to the woman for a bit, while you enjoy your free drink and before you say goodbye, you pull her aside.

"You know, I think it would be better if you didn't tell her about me. Croco is an influential man, I don't want her to get into trouble. If she's his date, I'll part with him quietly while he's still here.” She nods her head attentively as if she's soaking up every word for this mission.

“Just ask her out of pure interest, since you were able to watch her with Croco today, you know...” - “Understood!" she's eager.

You give her a little friendly kiss on the cheek, making her blush, and you say goodbye to each other.

On the way to your room, when no one sees you on the corridor, you burst out laughing.

“Ace you were amazing!” - “Me and amazing?! Excuse me, but you're the real champ here!”

You banter pleasantly with each other about your success. You have discovered a lot of useful things and one thing is certain…

“Ace, now you just have to make friends with Sir Crocodile” Ace promptly stops and looks at you in horror.

"Huh? ME?!" With big no signs in his eyes, he waves his hands in front of him in dismay.

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rex-meshla · 11 days ago

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Steel Meets Silk

PAIRING | ARC Commander Colt x F!OC (Anastasia Husk) SUMMARY | Heiress to one of the galaxy's most powerful corporations, Anastasia "Stassie" Husk has lived a life of privilege, always in control-or so she thought. But as the shadows of war creep closer, her sheltered world begins to crack, revealing betrayals and secrets that could destroy everything WORD COUNT | 1.7k

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Prologue: The Weight of Perfection

The glass in my hand was as delicate as the conversations around me—smooth, effortless, as if it had all been carefully orchestrated. I smiled, barely listening to the conversation I'd heard a hundred times before: the same praise, the same hollow compliments, the same empty promises. They didn't know me; they only knew Alaric and Vivienne Husk's daughter, the perfect heir, polished and brilliant.

My life had been arranged, as precisely as a blueprint. Every piece of it sewn into place, like a suit that fit just a little too tight. Did anyone even see me, the girl behind the name, behind the forced smile? In moments like these, I wasn't sure I even saw myself. This world of polished surfaces, where a single misstep could crack the facade, and the pressure to be flawless felt less like a privilege and more like a trap.

Tonight, though, it all felt so... ordinary. The gala had all the usual ingredients—flickering chandeliers, hundreds of glasses of champagne clinking, the soft murmur of high society, their voices a soundtrack to the elegance of the room. Everything was perfectly arranged, and I was, as always, a part of it. The perfect daughter. The perfect heir to the Husk legacy. The perfect everything.

Talk of the war swirled in the background, muffled voices in a world that felt so far removed from me. It was almost amusing how such distant concerns could dominate the galaxy when, here in my world, all I had to worry about was making sure my dress didn't snag on the edge of the table. The Republic's fight for peace was a story I'd read in the news, a conflict I rarely thought about. It wasn't my fight.

"Stassie, darling, you look radiant tonight," a voice cut through my thoughts. I turned to see Padmé standing there, her eyes softer than I'd expected. Unlike most people here, she looked at me as though she saw past the sparkles and smiles, to someone else underneath.

I turned, my smile widening as I spotted Padmé. Even in a room full of accomplished individuals, she always stood out. Not just because of her beauty, but because of the quiet strength she exuded. There was something in the way she carried herself that made you feel like the world was a little more manageable when she was around.

"Thank you," I replied with a smile. "And you, as always, have that 'I'm about to save the galaxy' glow about you."

Padmé's voice, smooth and calm, was a stark contrast to the buzzing energy of the gala around us. She wasn't just a senator; she was a woman who carried the weight of the galaxy on her shoulders, and it showed in the quiet intensity with which she spoke.

"You know, Stassie," she began, her gaze drifting past the sparkling chandeliers to the horizon outside, "there are days when I wish the war had never reached us here, this far from the front lines. I'm sure it all seems so distant from where you stand, but I've seen firsthand what it does. People think it's just the battles. But it's the ripple effect, the way it shifts everything. The market. The people. Even those we thought we could trust." Her voice softened for a moment, a shadow crossing her face. "I was at a memorial service for a friend last week. A fellow senator. Just... gone. The war's touch is far-reaching, and you never know when it will come knocking."

I glanced at her, startled by the hint of vulnerability in her tone. Padmé, the epitome of composure, was rarely so open, but the weight of her words struck me in a way I hadn't anticipated. My mind spun, trying to reconcile the serene world I knew with the dark reality she was painting.

I forced a smile, though it felt thin. "I suppose I'm lucky. It all feels so far away from here."

Padmé's gaze lingered on me for a moment longer. "Lucky, yes. But don't let that shield you from what's coming. It doesn't take much for the world to change. Sometimes, it's just one unexpected moment. Your family's business, your father's influence... It all becomes part of the bigger picture. Don't wait until it's too late to realize how much it matters."

Her words hung in the air, and for a second, I couldn't decide if I should be worried or grateful for her warning. There was a tension in her eyes, a silent plea for me to understand something more than the glittering world I was so comfortable in. But I didn't know how to move beyond that distance yet.

As the evening wore on, the conversation around me started to die down, and the glow of the gala seemed to flicker out in slow motion. The guests began to thin out, the glittering crowd dispersing like a fading dream. But there was one person who had remained, even as the others left.

Father always lingered just a little longer, as if savoring every moment, like a man who knew the value of time.

I spotted him across the room, standing by a tall window with a perfect view of the stars. He was surveying the crowd, his sharp blue eyes never missing a detail. But when they landed on me, something shifted in his expression, more than just pride. There was something else. Something I couldn't quite place.

I excused myself from the conversation I'd been caught in, moving toward him with a purposeful stride. As I approached, he looked me up and down with that familiar calculating gaze, but this time, there was a warmth in his eyes that made my chest tighten.

"Stassie," he said, his voice low and steady. "Come here for a moment."

I stopped in front of him, offering a small, questioning smile. "What's on your mind, Father?"

He studied me for a long moment, as though seeing me not just as his daughter, but as the young woman I was becoming. "You're growing up," he said softly, almost to himself. "And it's time you understood just how serious that is."

I frowned slightly, unsure of where this was headed. "What do you mean?"

"You're not just the heir to this business, Anastasia. You're the future of it. And I've worked too hard to let anything—or anyone—stand in your way."

His grip on my shoulder was firm, but I kept my gaze steady, resisting the urge to pull away. "Of course," I replied smoothly, the word tasting bitter. Did he ever wonder what I wanted, what my future could look like if I weren't shaped to fit his plans? But I knew better than to ask. In our world, even the tiniest crack in the mask could cause everything to come crashing down.

"I know that," I replied, trying to keep the unease out of my voice. "But things have always been... well, they've always been good."

My father's smile was soft, but his eyes grew more serious. "Good is never enough. Good doesn't get you through the next challenge, the next hurdle. It's time for you to prepare for the real work ahead."

I blinked, processing his words. "The real work?"

"Yes," he said, his voice low and resolute. "You're about to step into a new chapter, Stassie. The one where the stakes are higher, the pressure greater. And you'll face challenges that will test everything you've learned so far."

A sudden weight settled over me, the kind that only came when my father spoke in that tone—the tone that signified no turning back. I wasn't just his daughter anymore. I was becoming a part of something far bigger than myself. And whether I liked it or not, I was about to see just how serious it all was.

"You're ready for this," he added, his voice full of quiet confidence. "I know it."

His words were measured, like everything else he did. I wanted to believe I was ready. But the tightness in my chest told me something else. I wasn't sure I was ready for whatever was coming. Or for him to see me the way he did.

As the night stretched on and the last of the guests began to file out, I stood with my father, surrounded by a soft hum of distant chatter. His words, though, echoed in my mind, a slow drip of reality that I couldn't quite shake. The real work ahead. The pressure. The stakes.

I glanced at him, noticing how the years had worn away at the sharpness of his features, leaving only the resolute, steady presence I had come to rely on. His gaze softened when it met mine again, and the pride in his eyes made something inside me tighten. But it wasn't just pride. It was expectation. And that was what made it heavy.

"We've got a few more hours of this before I get back to the grind," I said lightly, trying to steer the conversation into something I could control, something that didn't carry that weight.

Father chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "You think this is just another meeting? Another gala?"

I swallowed, feeling the edge of my smile falter for a moment. "No, but I'm used to everything running smoothly. I'll be fine, Father."

His gaze remained steady, and for a brief moment, I saw the quiet storm that sometimes hid behind the polished exterior. "You don't get to be fine anymore, Anastasia. Not in this world. Things are about to change, and you need to be ready for that."

I stood there in silence, feeling the weight of his words press against my chest. The room had emptied, the glittering crowd gone, but it felt like the real event had just begun. My father's gaze never wavered, as if he were preparing me for something I wasn't yet ready to see.

"Remember this moment, Stassie," he said, his voice low. "The world doesn't care about your comfort, your plans, or your expectations. It doesn't wait. It only takes."

As the last of the guests filtered out, I lingered there, caught between my father's quiet certainty and the distant echo of Padmé's warning. The noise of the evening seemed to dissolve, and I was left with my thoughts only. The path ahead was already laid out before me, and it wasn't as simple as I had imagined.

I glanced once more at my father, his figure standing resolute in the dimming light, and something within me shifted. The weight of expectation, the world beyond these walls, and the challenges I had yet to face—all of it settled into place. I wasn't just playing a part anymore. I was about to step into something far bigger.

And I wasn't sure if I was ready for it.

But I knew, in that moment, that I didn't have a choice.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

I'm so happy that this Commander Colt fic is finally coming to life 🥹

You can find the next chapter here and my masterlist here x

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evan-collins90 · 2 years ago

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The first Torrid store - Brea Mall - Brea, CA (Opened April 18, 2001)

From the book: “The retailer, Hot Topic, based in City of Industry, CA, started a short 12 years ago with a concept and a target market; cutting edge apparel, accessories and novelty items--all inspired by alternative music, oriented towards a hip and trendy, teenage market. Hot Topic changed the look of their retail settings, which are usually located in mainstream malls, and the company has recently taken aim at another special market. The new focus is on plus-size teens; an area that the fashion market seems to have neglected.

Up until this time the 15-30 year old hip and trendy young women who wear sizes 14-26 had no other choice but to shop in the larger size women's shops where the fashions were tailored to the more matronly and conservative tastes. That is how Torrid was born!

Torrid was introduced in a new, hot and fun retail setting designed by JGA, Inc. of Southfield, MI which has designed the various prototypes for the Hot Topic stores as well. To be sure of the need for such a niche to be filled, the company opened five Torrid shops almost simultaneously; the first in Brea, CA, followed by stores in malls in Mission Viejo, CA, Annapolis, MD, Omaha, NE, N. Attleboro, MA, and Littleton, CO. The merchandise offerings are clustered as "Streetwear," "Clubwear," Rockabilly Wear," and Renaissance Wear" and the stores average about 2,750 SF. Besides the "everyday" slacks and novelty T-shirts, these larger size young women can find black vinyl pants and mini-skirts, black corsets, dog-collar chokers and platform shoes as well as retro-inspired clothing and accessories. In addition to the gothic and prom dresses, Torrid also carries a full line of lingerie for this particular market. Listening to the target market, Hot Topic's Torrid offers teenagers and up the opportunity to look "girly yet fierce."

The design objective for the prototype store that was designed by JGA, Inc. was to create "a celebration of abundance" and make the setting as unique, unconventional and spirited as the plus-size young women who will be shopping here. Inspired by a "mythological, after-hours club in New Orleans," the atmosphere is romantic, dark and filled with a sense of "unbridled passion." "From the signature flaming heart icon to the curving voluptuous lines throughout the store, excessive materials and scale mirror the zest of the Torrid woman." It starts out front with the shopper-stopping facade which serves as a dramatic gateway to the store.

The curvaceous and sensuous "hourglass" figures of the Torrid customer is expressed in the hand-crafted metalwork and the backlit translucent glass glowing red. A "drippy" red chandelier and the hand blown flaming heart torcheres add to the store's distinctive sense of place and being. The mosaic porcelain tile floor sets the color palette of jewel tones and metallics. "Visually complex, layers of finishes and architectural pieces evoke a one-of-a-kind artistic flavor." The eclectic mix of fixtures, furniture and furnishings-even the armoires--add to the New Orleans flavor. The hand painted, whimsical and overscaled armoires or cabinets are used to anchor the various zones within the store and at the center of the space a large bronze metallic drape further divides the departments.

The designers added special touches to each area to create that unique, one-of-a-kind feeling to the design. Specially designed, oversized red sculptured chairs with slatted backs are featured in the shoe area. Shoes and accessories are displayed on the slatted backs. The lingerie area takes on a more intimate and exotic--almost Moroccan--feeling with the hand blown glass chandeliers suspended down from large plaster domes. Seen behind this area--beyond a hand painted wall and arc--are the individual, oversized dressing rooms which are equipped with flattering uplights and decorative chandeliers that are visible from other parts of the store. The cash wrap becomes a "focal fantasy" in the total design and it resembles a giant canopy bed topped with twisting shapes and forms.

The space is filled with a pulsating excitement that is so appropriate for the merchandise and the young clientele. In addition to the shimmering palette of rich, deep colors, the warm colored downlights not only enrich the ambient colors and textures but they enhance the merchandise display. The traditional long and narrow mall space is broken up into more personal and individual zones by the variations in ceiling heights, the tin ceilings, finials and the assorted wall coverings. The use of brocades, metallics, and jewel tones on the walls also help to differentiate areas in the store. The metal fixture system--tortoise shell like in appearance--was customized to accommodate the products unique size and length requirements.

If all goes as well as anticipated we can expect to see more and more Torrid shops opening up across the USA- maybe even as many as 700 outlets!”

Images and text were scanned from the book, Stores of the Year 14 by Martin Pegler (2003)

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avanceadcomm · 4 months ago

Text

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somewhereincairparavel · 4 months ago

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hiii congrats on 400 i love ur blog!!

i have a headcannon that jason takes architecture in new rome university to pursue his vision of rebuilding temple hill. can i request an architecture student!jason fic? maybe some engineering student!leo tossed in as well idk haha tysmmm! ~~♡

ೃ⁀➷ Screws and Ceramicsೃ⁀➷

author's note: I'm sorry this took so long!! I'm back on my writing spree finally!!

“The exterior facade of the Colosseum consists of four levels, with the bottom three levels composed of 80 arches each. Structurally speaking, the arches make possible the immense size of the structure-”

Jason adjusted his glasses as he was trying his hardest to copy his notes down, as quickly as possible, the professor was going kinda fast but Jason didn't blame him.

They have so much coursework for this semester. New Rome coursework for architecture students included the basics of Colosseum construction, Parthenon preservation and the surprising malleability of marble.

Currently Jason was learning the basics of Colosseum construction. It wasn't easy, but Jason was willing to give it his all, he even asked Annabeth for advice. His dream was to redesign temple hill, after he was done finishing the minor gods project. The only way he could get the permission to professionally redesign the structure of a long existing camp, was to get a degree to prove that he was worthy enough.

Romans do not play when it comes to buildings. Moreover, he didn't want anyone to call him a “nepo baby” and that he only got to design temple hill because he was Jupiter's son. Annabeth had already moved up levels of the architecture courses, and graduated with Percy. Jason was two years younger, by the time Annabeth had graduated, he was only then finishing highschool in California, so he still had a long way to go. Thankfully, Leo took engineering in NRU, so Jason had great company.

“Man, all these Romans do is yap yap and yap in cursive. They know nothing about how engineering works.” Leo babbled, complaining about his professor, who was a legacy of vulcan.

Jason scowled. “What are you implying, Leo? That we Romans know nothing about building stuff? That's the biggest stretch I've ever heard. They've built the Colosseum, the Roman Forum, the Domus Aurea, the Pantheon, Trajan's Column, Trajan's Market, the Catacombs, the Circus Maximus, the Baths of Caracalla, Castel Sant'Angelo, the Mausoleum of Augustus-”

“Woah woah calm down. I see you've clearly learnt all the names of those Roman buildings for your upcoming exam, thank me later for discreetly testing you. Looks like you really know your stuff dude. Romans are still mid engineers though” Leo winked. Jason stared at him bewildered. He hadn't even realized that he spit out all those Roman building names, he'd been up all night studying them.

“Iuppiter te perdat, valdez” (may Jupiter come at you, valdez) Jason muttered.

“Aww come on, don't go all Latin on me now, did you curse me out?” Leo questioned.

“maybe.”

“Well, whether you realize it or not, I seem to be the only one who somehow get you to apply whatever you've learnt in class dude. I mean, I've said like two sentences, and that's enough to get you to yap about Roman buildings and Latin curses” Leo laughed.

Well, he wasn't wrong.

“also you are only proving my point that Romans yap in cursive, I mean, have you seen yourself speak?” Jason gave him a pointed look.

“don't worry, it's cute.” Leo said, patting Jason's hair.

“Well, maybe i yap in cursive because I'm actually knowledgeable.” Jason replied, tersely smiling.

“a little too much of a big head but fair point.” Leo admitted.

“Anyways I'm starving. In honor of you insulting us Romans, Let's go eat some nice Roman food," Jason said, dragging Leo to the cafeteria.

“Leo, what's wrong?” Jason asked as he slipped inside Leo's dorm room. He hadn't heard from leo in a few hours now and he was getting worried.

Leo was scrambling anxiously, his hands seemed to be having minds of their own as his eyes darted around the room.

“I have like, 2 projects due tomorrow, and I swore to myself that I'd start on them early but I was having so much fun it totally slipped my mind-”

“Okay. Alright. First off, calm down. You still have like, 10 hours till your next class. You can still get it done by then, stressing out only prolongs your progress-”

“Give it a rest Dr. Phill” Jason rolled his eyes.

“I'm just trying to help”

“Well it isn't working, just letting you know, man”

“What's your project about? I'm no engineer, but maybe i could help with building the outer structure or solving machine equations to help make it work better-”

“Oh please yes. I need all the help I can get right now”

Jason smiled.

And so. The architect and engineer started their nerdy fiasco.

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simp-ly-writes · 4 months ago

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The City

─────── · · THE SERIES: PART TWO

PAIRING: Enver Gortash x fem!Reader, Wyll Ravengard x fem!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: Across the seas you are studying to finally cement yourself as a high lady and 'worthy' of being beside the Duke's son in the publics eye. Yet as time slips through your fingers, and you have had no word from your lover- a face from the past decides to make their presence known once more after going through hell.

─ · · WARNINGS: contract marriage, child abuse, bullying, anxiety attacks flashbacks, overall angst with fluff

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 5,000

─ · · A/N: I have to start making chapters shorter- my computer begs me.

─────── · ·

“Anger, resentment and jealousy doesn't change the heart of others-- it only changes yours.”

Shannon Alder

─────── · ·

When Gortash resurfaced, contract burned to the ground and an echoing voice shattered his mind with great ill intentions. He listened to the life the voices promised, that he realised he wished upon himself and strived to mould it into reality. Taking back to the Lower City and its sewers, his heart felt heavy with memories that the voices dampened with his mission they provided.

He infiltrated the underground network, mingling with Guild, Zhentarim, and Thugs alike. He carefully observed their trade networks and studied their trade secrets as he temporarily acted under their needs before running back off with the information to the now abandoned factories on the shoreline.

Hands running with memory, he used the metal scraps and various stolen powders to craft numerous weapons of destruction. He looked at himself in the gleaming metals, felt the various nicks and bruises across his hands from the work before turning the market on its head. Exporting his work to make numbers, he took hold of the unsuspecting and thrusted them to make his ultimate designs.

Mere weeks into his developments, various characters of his past both from hell and sewer came back with contracts in hand and meetings to be scheduled as he charmed and dined their offerings to build himself up more. Soon enough, Enver Gortash was making lucrative business as a black market arms dealer, sending a thousand ships full of weapons and bombs to neighbouring wars without a blink towards the headlines and the various zeros that followed.

Using this newfound income, Enver looked to legitimize his business, exploring other avenues and sectors. Combing his way back into the light, his eyes winced at the harsh sunlight casting judgement across his pale skin before shaking hands with misters and misses to dukes and duchesses alike. But with surface level interests came newfound dangers brought into light as many looked to take down the approaching tidal wave of Envers overtaking of the manufacturing scene, especially those connected to the Knights of the Shield as many attempts at his life were made over glasses of wine, the occasional bathhouse, or underground dispute.

He looked for a bodyguard and found himself back in searching the hells like the devil himself did to him. Casting up a contract to a young tiefling named Karlach, she protected the supposed businessman with her life and fiery passion. Often casting jokes to try and catch a sliver of a smile she thought to be imagining, or the slight twitch to his eye. The facade Enver put up was perfected as his signature gilded across multiple pages and shook hands with the upper echelon of society.

It was during one of these events that the whispering wind had caught his breath and taken his life back to an old one he thought to have forgotten long ago. He watched as a striking young woman in an equally lavish gown practically skipped down the cobbled streets, a dashing young man chasing after her, a sword swinging by his waist with every step he took.

Your face caught him standing there in the street as you simply overlooked him and took around a corner. The young man seemingly out of breath gripping his knees as he called out your name that had Enver feeling weak himself. Gripping his hands into fists, Karlach raised a brow- this was the most emotion she had ever seen her boss possess as she quickly looked over the square for a possible association.

“Is everything alright boss?” Karlach asked tentatively, hands beginning to reach around her back to draw a weapon as Enver began to walk forward with large strides without another word. His heart was racing, his eyes begging to cast upon your form again as he wondered if you would remember a boy like him.

His mind then flooded as a foreign weight fell upon his right shoulder, he remembered your head falling against it during the early morning hours after you patched his hand. Next, a memory of you pulling him into the very factory he worked out of now. Sneaking around the various guards and filling your bag full for the next day where you spent all day trying to make his drawings a reality and then you were at school. Him seeing you for the first time, reading with you on the bench behind the church and holding you as the children screamed.

When he looks down the alleyway you went down, he finds it empty- as if you were only a figment of his imagination, a ghost of an older life. He looks down to the ground, confused as he asks the voices in his mind if he had truly lost it only to receive no response. Karlach waits for him, guarding the small space as she silently understands what her boss had seemingly lost but was increasingly distracted by his sudden display of emotion. In the end, she had not readied herself for the onslaught of it as a heavy heart soon turned to anger and ultimately her destruction.

Feeling the after waves of his own enslavement, for catching a glimpse at what could have been you and him. He was taken back to the hells from a portal supported by Helsik and struck a deal with Zariel. The Crown of Karsus for a pivotal role in the new world alongside a new product offered now that he had been working diligently on for many years now, an infernal engine- the test subject? Karlach.

Lost in the need for his pain to be felt, he used it on the only person he was able to call a friend in the past decade they had been working alongside one another as the voices demanded it, only to mute and combine in the sound of one, Use those weak to build yourself stronger.

Who speaks? Enver asks himself as the roaring fires and the woman's screams are left behind as he emerges from the portal once more.

You are to be my Chosen, the voice disregards the question at first, only leaving a lingering presence in the back of his mind as he beds a red-headed lady to gain himself more notoriety in the higher circles. Weapons at their throats, hidden by words as he looked towards politics as he pulled out to finish and hastily takes himself out of the bed as the woman gasped for air, her eyes still closed in bliss before snapping to the sound of the door slamming closed.

Enver walked outside the estate, still adjusting his long coat against his body before entering the dying streets. Walking back towards the factories, the voice revealed themselves to be Bane, the God of Tyranny and Lord of Darkness as the sun fell upon the shores. On his path he looks back to see the hill where he first met you, the marks the woman left across his back still aching as he feels bile run up his throat as he crashes into the side of a building for support.

“Lady Jannath,” he whispers to himself, testing the name for he didn’t care to remember earlier but knowing he is not alone he asks the voice ever present. Will she see me- love me enough to hate me- to lothe me? My actions and desires?

She left you, remember chosen? You were rotting in hell as she was begging for the Duke's boy. Do not forget that you are bettering this world by rebuilding it. We have no need for the girl-

You speak in such absolutes…

As you will learn to force them.

─────── · ·

Enver Gortash would become a common name discussed in every home from within the gate- his popularity overshadowing any dirt to be found in the scraps he did not already erase. Bane led Gortash to acquire more power and influence within the political inner circles surrounding Baldur's Gate as he became referenced to be the future military advisor after his connections in the weapons industry. Driven by his growing ambition with the Crown of Karsus in hand, the knowledge of this artifact set in the hands of another slipped within the underground and underdark as Myrkul and Bhaal also wished to play house with the city.

Cornered one day in his own factory, a blade thrusted in between his ribs by the Chosen of Bhaal and the barking dog of Ketheric Thorm, the Chosen of Myrkul, in his face. He was left with little room but to ensure a favorable alliance with his compliance. Showing the wicked two the power the Crown could offer within ancient Netherese texts they searched to enslave an Elder Brain to support their deities alongside their own personal desires. Splitting the crown within three Netherstones, unleashed sins were planned to swarm the coast.

Sins plagued the man as desire soon overtook. Gortash had people keeping tabs on every moment of your life. He read upon your family's new estate, the friends you networked with, the first apprenticeship you gained under Ravengard to your training with the flaming fists before discussions of you being sent away to learn under foreign education. Rage would be too small of a word to withhold the pure fury that raged through Envers veins.

The little boy within him crying out to see his only friend betrothed to another. A sick jealousy plagued his mind as he kept photos of your graduation, set your favorite flowers by his bedside and had even stolen your couple's portrait of you and Wyll from the Dukes estate. The son's face was ripped apart, leaving you alone on the canvas to shine beautifully with the fresh oil paints. Gortash would find himself sitting in front of you many nights as he told you his wicked plans- as if trying to gauge a reaction from your unmoving character.

He would silently await your answer before looking at the various sculptures surrounding the room that silently judged the lord to be. And in a moment of great weakness, watching from one of the balconies of Wyrms Rock fortress as he temporarily visited as a guest. He watched your ship sail away. You running away, just as he was finally getting everything he ever wanted. In this moment of bitterness, of weakness and hurt pride; he decided to show his strength and took tadpoles to the instigators of it all.

─────── · ·

The cobbler house was quiet on a weekend night. Oil lamps threatened to flicker out as Enver moved effortlessly under their light. Bane praised his forward thinking, of gaining the purest image from highly supportive parents- parents that would never speak down to him, beat him, torment him so horribly. These people would no longer sell him out, cast you aside.

His mother was frozen in a silent scream as Enver gripped the woman by her long brown hair with a fist. He tilted his wrist, applying more tension to her scalp as he presented the wiggling tadpole in front of his mother. Not a smile, tilt of the eyes or breath exited Gortash as he watched the worm wiggly its way in behind her eye. She trashed and groaned, nails digging into her son's wrists as red blood dripped to the floor to show his humanity.

His father laid there still, his insides casted upon the floor as he chanted your name in a silent prayer before Gortash calmly strided his way across the rickety old floors that creaked and groaned under his weight. He dropped his mother to the floor with no further regard, her head slamming against the warm rugs as she laid their limp. Eyes wide, breaths shallow, mind searching for answers to only curse the devil of her own son.

His father made no protests, his fate sealed as the tadpole slithered up his neck. Gortash leaned against the countertop. His long black coat swayed slightly in the cold night air making its way through the lofty space as he watched the insertion take place, watching as both of his parents kissed his boots as he slammed the store door behind him before taking into view your boarded up storefront.

A few books were still visible in between the planks as Envers' heart clenched in his chest. He craved the pain of feeling you- even the loss of you. It was in this pain Gortash first found his path, his deity, and yet he still prayed thankful to having met you. He wished to have you hear everything you made him realise, to have you see the perfect city of people he commanded, and he would command you to stay rather than leave.

─────── · ·

Salty sea air wafted into your senses as you strolled across the white sand coast line. Your head was full of recalling teachings and notes you studied the night before in your dormitory. Looking up at the sun, you still had time before you were to meet with your peers at the Library. You were counting down the days to your final written exam.

Chuckling at yourself, or to the picture of self you keep in your mind. You wonder what home will look like in your return. If the same restaurants you love and remember are still in business. If your few school friends have returned from their studies as well. Some had gone off to Bards College while others chose to study among the druids or with the Society of Brilliance in the Underdark. A shiver runs across your spine at the thought of traversing such lands after you learned of the great diseases that had coated the lands. The text brings a tear to your eyes as you rubbed them in equal tiredness.

Yet nevertheless, you would miss your fellow students, your mentors and coaches. You were one paper away from being a qualified court member and would hold enough dignity to take Wyll’s side- Wyll. Your heart echoed with a few painful aches, you wondered what he would look like now. It had been years since you had seen him as you looked down to your bare left hand, the emptiness of it holding weight as you rubbed at your ring finger, tension only growing with festering fear of what if?

You wonderdered if the young man you had left was already holding court meetings, dancing with other young beautiful women and orchestrating deals for the city. You pondered if he still enjoyed taking walks around the garden, sneaking off into the lower city for a semblance of normality- or had the new reality already overcome that? Your mind was a storm of wild thoughts and fantasies as you bumped into your fellow students in the halls and stumbled into the library with a shy smile once realizing you were late.

The tables were filled, nearly every seat taken as one of your classmates moved their bag for you to take its place. Books were strewn across the table, empty tea cups littered the jackets of books as you found space to open your notes and started to review while doing your best to shake your thoughts of the beach.

─────── · ·

Darkness soon painted the skies, the room filled with candlelight as you wrote your final sentence and signed off your name. “Are you ready for the closing ball this weekend, (name)?” one of your peers asked as they helped you to pack up your belongings. Taking a pause, your books floating over your bag, you raised an eyebrow in question towards them- a silent ask for them to continue.

“There are spokespeople coming from neighbouring continents to hire us after graduation, surely one of your professors has spoken to you about this?” they continue, eyes growing wide as you shake your head, “No, I have not but I already have work for me back at home.”

“Oh, do not tell me it is with that ‘betrothed’” your peer makes quotations around that final word as they make a big display of looking at your hand. A sad yet knowing look casting over their features. “You must know that without the ring or paper, they are merely words and just that.”

“But I do believe it to be true,” you hold strong, eyes unwavering in their own even as your voice tilts, the lack of Wylls replies to your letters over the past three years eat away at your belief as time progresses.

“I just don’t want you to lose your future, that is all. But please, do speak to at least a couple of employers… you never know what can happen,” they grab your hand with these parting words. You can only offer a small nod before watching them leave the library as you continue to pack up your belongings. Maybe I shall talk to a couple, no harm in conversation… you think to yourself before walking back to your silent dormitory. Doing your best not to wake the other students by the creaky floors or heavy oak doors as sleep soon overcomes you.

─────── · ·

Flowers wine themselves up every bannister and set upon every table as you make your way into the ballroom. Your paper sits safely in one of your crates already making its way back to the mainlands. Suits and Satin has your back feeling cold and missing Wylls warm touch that led you around events like this. A pleasant smile coats your face in a mask as you take a champagne flute and turn to raise it towards your headmaster. Cheers erupted throughout the room as you swallow down the liquid before settling the empty glass back upon the try.

Music breaks the words as you stand at the refreshments table, picking away at the snacks and delicacies that sit in the shapes of animals and famous sculptures. Taking a laugh for yourself, you steal the middle finger off one of the food displays and place it on your plate as you look to find an empty table.

You watch as your classmates talk with their dance partners. A thousand ages and backgrounds fill the room as the spilling of fresh ink catches your intrigue. Your friend appeared to be correct as you watched them leave with a well dressed man towards one of the offices, a paper sealed in their hand as they cast a wide smile before exiting. Exhaling a breath, you pick at your food and observe the floral decorations at your table with false intrigue.

Soon, overwhelming sadness finds your reflection in the various glasses sat atop the table. Wyll had not shown up, you had an understanding that he would not but the hope for a surprise was soon overshadowed by its lack of presence. A sudden hand has you startled as it presents itself in your face. A handsome young man stands before you, his smile a bit crooked by the chip in his left large tooth, yet by the well trimmed golden hair he presents and the tailored clothes across his back- he comes from a good background.

“A dance for the lonely?” he asks, fingers stretching winder as you place your hand in his own and are hoisted up into the life of the party. Various gowns sound like waves crashing against the polished floors. The music comes crashing over every laugh and conversation as you allow your years of practice in the Ravengard ballroom to lead you through the dance.

“Penny for your thought, my lady?” the man asks with a curious tint to his gaze but before you can reply, your partner is being switched as you spin into the arms of another. “The colour suits you,” they simply state. The lack of polish in their voice catches you off guard- the same tones that you worked hard to make your voice forget.

You notice the long black coat they wear near the bottom signs of obvious wear and tear are sound as stitches are coming undone. Their top is hastily buttoned, their shoes dull, and their hair- your breath catches in your throat as you feel them grip your waist tighter. Your cheeks flare up with warmth upon recognition as you rack your brain for a name- Enver Gortash.

They smile, looking down to your lips as you whisper their name. “So you do remember me,” he comments, seemingly to himself as he pulls you away to a large twirl before slamming you back into the privacy of his arms. “Of course I would remember my childhood friend,” you say back. Your head starts to feel heavy from all the memories that flood in as you press your forehead to his shoulder.

You hear the small gasp Enver takes in, feeling the familiar weight of you on his shoulder and he has never felt such comfort. Taking one of his hands from your waist, you feel how his hand hesitates before gently stroking up and down your back. His touch has your shoulders dropping and you would not stop the smile that spreads your cheeks. A laugh of disbelief is shared between the both of you. The music eventually fades as you open your eyes once more, you go to bow, picking up your skirt but he takes your hand and drags you out of the ballroom and into the study wing.

The hall remains empty besides the few staff that run trays to and fro. Your eyes cast upon his broad shoulders and the hair he still has not styled since his youth. His smile is genuine when he turns around and casts you a wink before holding a door for you to enter. You hesitate to turn around until the sound of a click before taking the sight of him in full.

“You look so…” words fail to come to mind, your hands still shaking as tears threaten to spill from your eyes. You struggle to feel everything in this moment as he tilts his head and raises a brow, asking you to continue with a wave of his hand. “...so old.” Your hands grasp your mouth, shock holding you still as you yell internally. His laughter fills the small room as he takes large strides over to you, pulling your hands from your face to hold between his own.

“How you wound me,” he responds, a playful tint to his brown eyes, “and here I thought to find a beautiful and reputable young woman.” You scoff at his words, pulling your hands gently away with a shake of your head. “Alright and like we didn’t steal from half the population of Baldur’s Gate.”

“But look where it has placed you, exactly with my words…” his sentence trails off as he twirls a strand of your hair before looking outwards at the window behind you. You look at the side of his face, taking notice of the tens of scars that litter his jaw and cheeks. Your fingers brush against the raised skin, you feel him twitch away before pulling himself back to your touch, allowing you to observe.

“Where have you been old friend?” you ask quietly, a part of you scared to know an equal part of you burning with curiosity. “Where haven't I been,” he responds coldly before remembering his company and releasing a large sigh. He leans against a desk nearest to him as you watch his movements, holding onto every word he speaks- his voice deep and captivating to your senses beyond belief.

“When you left, my parents soon realized their mistakes. We were struggling and there was only so much a boy could carry those nights and every night the weight increased as I looked for a way out. But when I received one, it was never one I could have begun to imagine. To face such hardships, torments, and then utmost cruelty… it took hold of me in the hells-fire and I burned so much of myself in those years.”

“Enver-” you start to speak, hands looking to comfort as he settles them back at your sides. He refuses to meet your eyes as he turns to observe his shoes. Your heart aches at the sight of that young boy sitting behind you, picking away at the edges of his, or well your books.

“I was put under contract and under lashes. I bled and bruised, I worked for my life and with the lives of others. I put souls onto paper, took notes with their blood and found a way out years later. I thought of you, on the tiled floors. I often pictured your presence, heard your voice, I searched for you in the Lower City upon return- I had never thought you would move so far or remembered you to.”

Tears stream silently down your face, guilt rises with the treats you feasted on earlier. You beat yourself for not thinking to take him with you- for not thinking over one action versus the years you spent together. “Why did you cast me away then? If I had known-”

“No.” His voice is cold, his eyes snapping to you as you feel like that small girl within the trinkets and wires once more. His mother’s voice ringing in your bones as your eyes plead for answers for a forgiveness for what you do not understand but your own humanity. Enver continues, “You got the better family, the better spoils, you deserve the better life. I could not take that from you- even at times a part of me wished I did. Wished that I did not have to suffer alone but then I would be forgetting the old you. The malnourished, the angry and spiteful. I never wanted to forget her as it seems you never have forgotten me.”

“I thought of you too, you were all that consumed my thoughts at every dinner I attended- at every sparring session I went through. Surely if you are here tonight… has there been some semblance of good?”

He stands to full height, picking up your chin as his thumb brushes away your tears. “Good things do not come to men like me, we must chase them against the better judgement of others or else we will never see them. I am what I need to be, I worked for this, worked to see you once again. And here I hope, before I tell you more that you see me the way I do you?”

You drop your head into his hand, your own raising to play with the various gold designs intertwined with his collar. “Of course, you are my dearest friend of all- for all time.” And then hurt flashes in the man's eyes, he drops your head once more, his hand flexing before closing- his legs carrying him towards the exit. Your eyes grow wide, watching as the man departs without another word. Your head spinning for answers, for an explanation to his answers and just as you turn back down the hall. Enver Gortash had vanished and a staff member was placing yet another glass of champagne in your hand as you headed back into the ballroom.

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THE CITY: THE SERIES: PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE ... you are here

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