#I actually caught him getting squished by coincidence | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ibelongtowrath · 4 years ago

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Amor Librorum - Obey Me! Satan x Reader

Satan's in heat, and you just had to wear that short little skirt, didn't you? A/N: This was a request for a Satan in heat story! My first work since my hiatus, and I hope I did it justice. I kinda went hard with Dom Satan, so please enjoy. Pairing: Satan x Fem!Reader Word Count: ~6.6k Tags/Warnings: 18+ NSFW, fisting, oral sex, degradation, breeding, rough sex, double penetration, tail sex, dirty talk, dominance, choking. NSFW under the cut!

The peaceful quiet of the library is disturbed by a loud groan of frustration, not at all surprised to find the sound originating from yourself. Your eyes open, unable to focus as you stare aimlessly at the pile of papers before you. Haphazardly-written notes cover the pages of your notebooks, some even squished into the margins, tiny doodles of demon horns and rainbows sprinkled throughout in an effort to satiate your never-ending boredom in class. God, Devildom classes are relentless, filled with endless information and not a lot of stimulation. A deep sigh falls from your lips. Rubbing your temples, you lean back in your chair, eyes closing once more.

“MC, is there anything I can help you with?”

The familiar voice startles you and you start, a small gasp escaping you as your eyes fly open. A few moments later, you finally notice Satan sitting close to the fireplace, book in hand as usual as your face heats up.

Satan, so goddamn handsome; the one you’ve had your eye on for a while, but were always too intimidated to approach.

“Satan! I-I didn’t even hear you come in,” you stammer in embarrassment, finally beginning to collect yourself and steady your breathing.

Satan’s jade-green gaze studies yours momentarily, brows knit together before his face relaxes. A gentle smile paints his face, and he chuckles, shaking his head. His blond locks fall forward into his face, reaching a hand up to brush them back.

“I have been in here for nearly thirty minutes now,” he says. “You were so focused on your work, I didn’t have the heart to disturb you. Though now, you look a bit...frazzled, so to speak.”

“You can say that again,” you agree, making a face at your messy notes.

It wasn’t that the material exceeded your capabilities; in fact, quite the opposite. You pored endlessly over your work daily since you had arrived not too long ago, paying attention in class and asking questions, with the occasional doodle finding its way onto your notes just to break up the monotony. Your dedication to success was something the brothers, and Diavolo, admired greatly about you.

It of course caught the attention of the Avatar of Wrath himself, even more so than his brothers. He respected you greatly, your wit and intelligence closely rivaling even his own. He felt an affinity towards you, despite your newness to the Devildom.

Feeling the intensity of his gaze, you look awkwardly down at yourself as your hand reaches to tug at the hem of your skirt, a little too short for your taste. Asmo had insisted on it, claiming R.A.D. needed a bit more excitement. Yeah, excitement for him, maybe.

Satan’s eyes quickly move to your thighs on the chair, eyeing the way you play with your skirt. A low sound rumbles in his chest at the sight, and he grits his teeth, willing himself under control. It was that time, the few days during each Devildom moon cycle where demons felt their desire to breed skyrocket, nearly going feral to satiate the hunger deep within. The heat period.

He had grown skilled in suppressing the urge, thousands upon thousands of cycles having passed in his lifetime. That isn’t to say he never gave in to it; even he had his moments where he couldn’t ignore the need to feel release, either relieving himself with his own doing, or with the occasional acquaintance made when Asmo had dragged him to one of his opulent parties. More often than not, Satan had simply resisted the pressing need, throwing himself deep into his studies instead.

That is, until you came along. You had piqued his interest, and he fully intended on studying you in his own way, eager to learn. Now you were here, in the place he went to when he was trying to escape his natural urges, wearing that short skirt of yours. That fucking skirt, tempting him like no other, and you have no clue.

Oh, the places his mind went when thoughts of you intruded were certainly risqué as is, nearly every day. He wanted nothing more than to indulge in you, capturing your lips with his in a sweet kiss, exploring each other’s bodies as lovers do. But right now, in the midst of his heat? He’ll throw caution to the wind, risk it all to push you down onto the nearest surface, a hand slipping between your legs. To hear your needy cries for him to fill you with the seed of his sin, each wet thrust laced with lust and desire...

“Well, thank you,” you say after a few quiet moments, oblivious to the demon’s internal struggle across the room. “I don’t think I need anything, at least not yet.”

Your words break Satan’s trance slightly as he nods, eyes moving back up to meet yours.

“Do let me know, in any case.”

“Of course.”

Sighing once more, your gaze returns to the mass of papers and notebooks before you, reaching for your Devildom History binder. Flipping it open to the period right after the Celestial War, each time period labelled painstakingly carefully, you begin to read over highlights of important events.

“MC!”

Satan’s voice calls out to you again from across the room and your eyes flit up to look up at him.

“Yeah?” you ask, wondering what he wants to tell you.

“I am glad you’re in here, and not around my brothers,” Satan says slowly. “I would stay away from them as much as you can over the next several days. They…are not always capable of exercising as much control as I am.”

“Ah.” The heavy implication behind his words is not lost on you, and you nod in understanding.

You had been in the Devildom for a few months now, and demon heat cycles had already passed. For a brief moment, you wonder why Satan is choosing to warn you now, but decide not to question it, instead choosing to be grateful for his looking out for you.

“Of course. Thank you, Satan.”

The demon watches as you return to your notes before turning to his book before him, settling back in his chair. The heat from the fireplace, coupled with the smell of wood burning, wafts towards him in gentle waves. He feels the tension melt away from his shoulders, relaxing into the comfort of his book; his serenity. Or so he thought.

Satan looks at the words inked onto the page before him, flipping to the next, then the next; seeing the words but not actually reading them. The carefully-typed words seem to bleed together as his vision blurs, surreptitiously lifting his head gaze once more at your bare thighs pressed together on the chair. He pictures standing before you, pressing his own knee between them, spreading your legs apart and-

No. Suppress the urge, he tells himself, just like he’s done for millennia. So why is it so fucking hard this time? His attention turns back to his book, willing himself to exercise the great control over his instinctive urges he had just told you he possessed, only moments ago.

Blissfully unaware, you continue to pore over your notes. God, I don’t even remember writing this much. Several moments pass as you double-check what the exam is going to cover, scribbled into the customized R.A.D. planner Lucifer had so graciously gifted to you upon your arrival in the Devildom. Returning to your notes, you flip ahead several pages, running your finger down the margins as you go, making sure everything in your notes coincides with the necessary topics.

“Huh…”

Your finger stops at a section with uncompleted notes, brows furrowing together in worry. Fuck. You had skipped out on classes that day with bad cramps, telling yourself you’d get the notes from Satan at a later date before the exam, knowing he’d be the only one who would have notes as thorough as your own.

Well, I can’t exactly ask him now. Pride and slight embarrassment get in the way of need. Pursing your lips together and exhaling loudly through your nose, you scoot the chair back and stand slowly. The hem of your skirt flares as you rise and turn towards the seemingly infinite expanse of books behind you. Your hand reaches instinctively to tug it down, willing it to suddenly grow longer to at least mid-thigh. Maybe I should concoct a spell for that: clothes that get shorter or longer at will.

Satan looks up and studies you carefully as you walk over to the historical section of the library, noting the contemplative look on your face. He chuckles at the serious look on your face, wondering if he should call out to you and ask if you need any help picking out a book. Instead, deciding it would be more feasible to show you, he sets his book down onto the table by the fireplace. His mouth opens, about to guide you towards the more recently-published Devildom history books when the sight of you before him slams his jaw shut.

Just several feet away, your body is bent over as you attempt to read the spine of a book near the bottom shelf of the bookcase, another tome already in hand, panties completely exposed. Suddenly, the rush of cool air on your backside as your skirt rides up elicits a small yelp from your lips, dropping the book to the floor as you hurriedly reach back to pull the skirt down. The fabric won’t move any further down, clearly not meant for coverage when your body bends. You straighten quickly, feeling your face practically ignite in embarrassment.

I'm going to kill Asmo! you think to yourself, quickly and carefully squatting to pick up the book you had carelessly dropped in your haste. Thank God Satan has his nose buried in a book and didn’t see …

The low rumble from deep in Satan’s chest as he growls hungrily tells you otherwise. Restraint, the sweet restraint that he had been so carefully cultivating since you arrived in the Devildom disappears almost instantaneously.

“You little fucking tease,” he growls, teeth bared.

Satan smirks, a predatory look etched into his handsome features as he saunters toward you. His jewel-toned gaze rakes your body up and down, the image of you bent over, panties barely covering your backside burnt into his mind like a brand. You feel your body instinctively tense, watching the way he moves; a wolf that stalks agonizingly slow over to his next meal, knowing the animal doesn’t stand a chance. A slight shiver courses down what feels like each vertebra of your spine, goosebumps cascading across your arms and bare legs in anticipation. You don’t feel scared, no - you’re turned on by the way he’s looking at you, the most indulgent treat ready to be devoured, and he knows it .

Satan’s smirk grows wider, almost turning into a sadistic grin as he nears you at last. His fingers slide gently under your chin to lift your face towards his, his beautiful green eyes even more mesmerizing in the proximity. They look like shimmering pools of tropical water, enticing you to jump in, and you want nothing more than to drown in them; but the blazing, carnivorous look hardens them, their majestic beauty mismatched with the sentiments currently behind them.

“Such a tease you are, little pet,” the Avatar of Wrath murmurs, his gaze never faltering from yours. “I only just warned you that it is the demon heat cycle, yet here you are, bent over in that short fucking skirt like a slut begging to be bred like she deserves.”

Satan speaks so calmly, in complete contradiction with the wanton desires carved into every cell in his body. Oh, he wants nothing more than to rip each and every flimsy piece of fabric off your pliant little body, cock twitching beneath the constricting fabric of his pants, but that will have to wait. Yes, he will wait until your arousal drips onto your thighs in the anticipation, keening for him, your voice laced with desperation as you plead with him to fuck you. After all, he is nothing if not a patient demon, and what fun is it to pounce on your prey without playing with your food a bit first?

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammer, instinctively continuing to tug down your skirt.

“Sorry? My dear, I am an intelligent demon,” he retorts. “Do you really think of me so unwise, so blind to my instinctual desires that I wouldn’t doubt your sincerity?”

Satan shrugs the green jacket off his shoulders, placing it neatly onto the back of a nearby chair. He takes a few more steps in your direction and leans forward, his lips now mere inches from yours.

“I can practically smell the desire rolling off your tight little body in waves right now, darling. I can see it in your eyes just how badly you want me.”

Satan’s thumb caresses your lip as his mouth moves to your ear, warm breath caressing your skin and smirking once more, watching the way you shiver, the sensation trickling slowly down your spine, nearly shaking in anticipation. You breathe in deeply, inhaling the sweet scent of his skin pressed to yours: the slight musk of old books, and sweeter notes of vanilla and cinnamon lingering on top. Your tongue wets your lips, eager to taste him on yours.

“Now, now, Kitten,” he purrs, amused by your evident arousal. “Are you so willing, so eager for me to wreck you that you’re turned on merely by a few small gestures? Naughty thing…”

A familiar need washes over you, very nearly as strong as his, despite your humanity. Without realizing, a whine spills from your lips in the wake of another shiver; every fiber of your being ache s for him, calls out to him to satiate the hunger. The visceral urge to feel him between your legs, sighing in satisfaction in the deliciously slow stretch of your warmth as he eases into you… If you were capable, you’re sure you would be growling as well.

Satan nibbles lightly on the lobe of your ear before his lips find your neck, placing soft, slow, sensual kisses on the underside of your jaw as he makes his way towards your exposed clavicle underneath the unbuttoned shirt of your R.A.D. uniform. You mewl, squeezing your thighs together, the action eliciting the wetness between your legs. Electricity pulses through you in every rhythmic beat of your heart, dampening your panties with each thump, thump, thump in your chest.

The demon laughs softly against you, delighting in your body’s response to him. His mouth moves to the delicate skin above your collarbone, where he nips and sucks it into his mouth, intent on leaving his mark on you. Each press of his lips on your skin leaves a trail of fire burning across, blazing a path in the form of reddish-purple welts imprinted into your skin. Fuck . You hadn’t anticipated it feeling this good, hands reaching to entangle your fingers in his thick blonde hair, pulling him closer to you.

You are his.

“Oh, naughty, naughty thing. Here I am, having barely done a thing, and yet…”

His words taper off as he runs his free hand down the curves of your body until it rests just above mid-thigh. Inadvertently, you tighten. The spark of arousal quickly turns into a star shower between your hips, each and every sensitive nerve-ending on high alert, every cell desperate to be touched, to be felt .

“...you’re practically begging for me. Just what exactly have you been picturing me doing to you in that pretty little mind of yours, hm? Perhaps…”

Satan’s hand trails to the inside of your thigh, dangerously close to your core. You shudder, a tiny moan escaping your lips as he continues to run his thumb across. Achingly slowly, his hand finally reaches between your legs, and he rubs the flimsy, now-soaked fabric of your panties against your heat, adding slight friction to your clit.

“... something like this?”

Your head drops back slightly as you moan, and his cock twitches again; the demon is almost painfully hard beneath his pants, but he’s not done playing with you just yet. No, despite his strong urges, he will be patient. After all, he’s waited thousands of years for a moment just like this. It’s in his nature to toy with you, to elicit those sweet, sweet sounds of anticipation and pleasure from your lips, knowing you’re so far gone to his charms.

“My, my, kitten,” Satan murmurs. “For someone who wasn’t actively trying to get my attention like you say, you are quite wet for me. Are you, perhaps, enjoying yourself?”

Without giving time for a response, he slides a finger under your panties, teasing it against your swollen clit as his lips crash against yours. His tongue presses against your lips, begging entrance; you grant it to him, letting your tongues explore each other's mouths. Moaning into him, you lift a leg to hook around his waist, causing Satan to break off the kiss; a low-pitched growl rumbling loudly from deep within his chest.

“I want you, kitten, I cannot deny that,” he husks. “But when you do things like that, well-”

Satan whirls you around to the table behind you, pushing you down onto it. A knee moves to your thighs, pressing into them to spread you apart ever-so-slightly. His finger hooks under the waistband of your panties, and, with a single tug, rips them off with a loud tear echoing throughout the peaceful calm of the library. Discarding them onto the floor haphazardly, a feral grin twists his handsome face.

“-you make it awfully hard to be sweet with you. Then again, I’m sure you love it rough, don’t you, my dirty little kitten?”

“F-fuck… yes…,” you whimper.

“Well, we’ll have to put that to the test in just a bit. But for now… open yourself to me.”

The carnal desire twists darkly through Satan’s veins as he watches you spread your legs, your dripping pussy on full display. He growls again, louder, hungrier at the sight of you quivering before him, your body begging for his cock without having to say a single word from those pretty lips of yours. Kneeling before you, his green nails find purchase on the soft skin of your inner thighs, digging in slightly. His lips part as his tongue moves, licking a few stripes up your sex. Soft moans against your skin sound from within him as he laps at your essence, pulling away after a few moments.

Satan looks at you then, listens to your needy whimper, fingers curling into the carved wood of the table, an uncontrollable urge to lift you up, slam you against the bookcase and fuck you into it overwhelmingly strong. Eyes glazed over with lust, a blissful, almost mindless look on your face; need and arousal woven into every delicate feature. Blood surges deep through his vein, heart working double time in the visceral urge he feels to make you his - and he will.

“Here’s what’s going to happen, kitten,” the Avatar of Wrath purrs, pressing kisses into the soft skin of your thighs. “I’m going to make you feel so good with just my mouth and my fingers, and you’re going to ask for my permission before you cum all over this table. Then, I’m going to bend you over and make you beg for my cock to stretch your needy little pussy out like the desperate slut you are. Is that agreeable to you?”

“Yes, yes, please …” you whimper. “Please, Satan.”

"Already begging for me, hm? That’s a good girl. That’s a very good girl.”

Satan moves his face back to your core, resuming his ministrations, alternating between sucking on your clit and swirling his tongue around it. Your back arches against the table, reaching a hand forward to thread your fingers tightly into his soft, blonde locks. He slides two fingers into your quivering pussy, smirking against your skin as a lewd cry of pleasure escapes you, knowing he’s got you in the palm of his hand… exactly where he wants you.

“Oh, pet, you taste so sweet for me, like the most indulgent dessert in the entirety of the Realms. Tell me, how good does it feel?”

“S-Satan… it feels so fucking good, don’t stop…,” you whine in response.

“Oh, don’t worry. I wasn’t planning on stopping, my pretty little pet. Not until you’re properly prepared for my cock and I make you cum all over this table, your face twisting in pleasure, just for me.”

Satan pumps and curls his fingers inside you skillfully, pressing exactly right against your most sensitive spot. The pleasurable pressure floods your body, every nerve ending electrified. His tongue focuses its attention back to your clit, flicking and nibbling the swollen bud, working his fingers in tandem. Eyes roll into the back of your head in ecstasy and your mind is completely fogged over, able to focus only on the demon pleasurable movements.

Hips roll towards his face, increasing the pressure of his tongue between your legs, and he moans against your pussy before sliding a third finger into you. The onslaught of sensations is nearly too much to bear, and you gasp as your pelvic muscles tighten around his fingers, signaling your oncoming release.

“Ngh… Satan, I want to cum. Please, let me cum,” you beg, your voice laced in pleasure and desperation.

“Oh, so soon?” Satan laughs softly. “Well, you’ve been so good for me… so wet, and making those sweet sounds just for me. I suppose I can permit you…”

He places a kiss against your clit before moving his mouth to bite down hard into your thigh, leaving a bright red imprint behind. Smiling at the mark, he nods, eager to watch as you come undone before him. Fuck, does he want to see that beautiful face of yours as it twists in pleasure from his ministrations.

“Cum for me, my sweet kitten,” Satan commands.

Your head rocks back against the hard wooden table as your body writhes, feelings of pure ecstasy washing and shuddering through your body in waves. The grip of your fingers woven into his hair tightens as his name falls from your lips, each syllable pronounced with a moan between. Body jerking forward slightly, he delights in watching the slight gushing from between your legs runs down your thighs in deliciously tiny rivulets as your fluid excitement pools beneath your thighs and onto the table beneath you.

Satan pulls back slightly and smirks, lapping at your essence. Another moan sounds from his lips, tasting your sweet release, intent on not wasting a single precious drop before standing, removing his fingers from inside you. You hear yourself whine at the loss of him inside you, desperate to feel that stretch between your walls, the need for him almost physically painful. He grins at you again, a sadistic upturn or his lips as he moves his hands to his pants, making quick work of undoing his belt and zipper to free his cock.

Watching closely, your eyes focus on him as you come back down from the high of pleasure, collecting your thoughts briefly before the sight of his hardened length before you clouds your mind over once more. You feel nearly light-headed, dizzy with arousal, solely able to think about pushing your hips in time with his as he takes you higher and higher.

Smug, Satan grabs your arm, turning you around. He pushes an arm into your back, effectively forcing you to bend you over the table. His hand reaches around your front to grope your breast through your shirt before taking a fistful of the fabric in his hand, ripping it clean off your body. A breathy gasp spills out of you, barely able to react before your bra suffers the same fate, torn into two on the floor.

“S-Satan! My uniform!” you gasp, studying the tattered garments littered onto the library floor.

“Don’t worry, kitten,” the demon coos, “I’m keeping your slutty little skirt fully intact. I want to watch my cock disappearing between your legs while you wear it.”

Using his free hand to hike the skirt up your thighs, he kicks your legs apart, letting out a loud, animalistic growl at the sight of you, before grabbing your ass cheeks in both hands, spreading you open completely. Fucking hell. How badly he wanted to slam his cock into either one of your needy set of holes, both quivering and clenching in anticipation. Sadistic grin returning, he relishes the power he holds over you at that moment.

“Look at you, spread before me like my favorite book, your needy little pussy just aching to be stretched out and gaping from my cock,” Satan continues, his voice lowering several notes.

Unable to resist, his mouth moves between your legs, licking another stripe up your slit. Lifting an arm back, Satan brings his hand down to smack your ass, hard. A loud crack sounds across the room, and you hiss with the stinging pain. His eyes move to your ass cheek, delighting in the bright red mark left behind, deciding to give your ass a few more smacks. A groan sounds from behind you, demon form erupting, so thoroughly turned on by your breathy moans.

“If only you could see yourself, pet, and see just what you’re doing to me. Your pussy is quivering for me, your body so desperate for me to use you and breed you like a dirty little cumslut. Isn’t that exactly what you are, you fucking tease?”

Satan’s hand moves to his cock, teasing his length up and down your dripping wet slit, the feeling of your abundant wetness coating him combined with your needy moans nearly too much for him to bear. Back arching, your hips push back against him instinctively, whining desperation growing louder, the need to feel him almost physically painful. He, too, feels the urge, painfully hard in his own hand. He needs to be inside you now , his own desperation beginning to cloud his thoughts… but before that, he needs to hear you beg.

“If you want it, beg me for it, kitten,” he commands.

Without hesitation, your lips part, ready to comply.

“Satan, fuck me, please!” you plead. “I need it. I need you. Please.”

His tail snakes forward and wraps tightly around your wrists, binding them together behind your back.

“Fuck, I love that sound,” he laughs, almost sadistically. “The sound of obedience without a second thought. You’re so fucking hungry for my cock and my cum, you’ll do just about anything, won’t you, you slut?”

Slowly, Satan slides his cock inside you, burying himself to the hilt.

“I seem to have forgotten, my sweet kitten, exactly which one of us is the one in heat,” Satan laughs. “The way you begged for me to fuck you and to fill you, my pretty little kitten must be in a heat of her own. Spreading her legs and arching her back, moaning to draw in the nearest suitors, just to be fucked, to fulfill her aching needs.”

You moan, finally satisfied at having gained the delicious stretch of his generous cock between your legs. The sound quickly turns into a lewd cry of pleasure that tears from your throat, slicing cleanly through the otherwise pure quiet of the library.

“Your pussy is so hot, tight, and wet for me, kitten. Such a good little whore. I’m going to fuck you into this table until you cum. And when you do, I’m going to fill your needy hole with my cum. I’m going to breed you like the hungry little cockslut that you are.”

“Y-yes, please!” you hear yourself begging again.

Satan shudders, savoring the feeling of your constricting warmth as he begins to fuck you from behind, watching as his cock disappear between your legs. He groans at the sight, snapping his hips into you at an unrelenting pace. His chest presses flush against your back, lips finding purchase on your neck before biting hard into it, intent on leaving more marks. Each thrust elicits a gasping moan from your lips, and he growls once more, feeling the vibration of the sound against your skin.

"Oh, fuck, yes , kitten. Keep making those sounds for me,” Satan groans. “You look so good like this, so helpless for me. I love the noises you make, taking every last inch of my cock.”

Green nails rake across the delicate skin of your back, leaving angry red welts in their wake. His pace quickens, thrusts becoming more frenzied, savoring the way you moan as the pain mixes deliciously with the pleasure. The sinful melody of skin smacking against skin permeates the room, pushing your hips back against his to meet in a harmony only the two of you know.

His head drops back in pleasure as your pussy squeezes his cock, reaching a hand between your legs to rub circles around your clit with fervor. Your pleasurable cries grow louder with each breath, until their pitch practically reaches a sweet scream. Growing, Satan weaves his free hand into your hair, yanking your head to the side roughly, forcing your eyes to meet his.

“Such a noisy thing, aren’t you?” he growls. “Do you want my brothers to hear you, striding through those double doors? You probably do, don’t you? My pretty little slut, so uncaring for having an audience, or how many get to fuck her, as long as they can satiate the ache between her legs.”

Satan releases his grip on your hair, moving his hand to press two fingers against your mouth. You part your lips, taking them into your mouth and sucking on them. He continues his merciless thrusts, working in perfect unison with the stimulation on your wet, now-swollen clit. It doesn’t take long before the fire pools low in your belly once more, your release threatening to take over you before you can even ask for permission.

“I want to cum, Satan, please!” your breathy cry rings out against the sounds of your sins.

“Yes, you do, kitten, because I’m making you feel so good, aren’t I?” Satan grins smugly with the words. “Cum for me. I want to feel that tight little pussy milking my cock, my name falling helplessly from your lips as you scream in pleasure. I’m going to breed you like the whore you are, and you had better not waste a single. Fucking. Drop.”

Time feels like it slows for a blissful few moments, your release building, more intensely than the first time.

“F-fuck, S-Satan!”

Your eyes practically roll back as your head drops forward, body shuddering. The wildfire of pleasure roils relentlessly, burning through your veins second by sweet second, every cell in your body filled with the delicious feeling. Satan groans, his own release rapidly approaching. He continues to fuck into you as you cum before giving in to it, moaning loudly as he empties himself inside you almost endlessly, filling you to the brim with ropes and ropes of cum.

“Fuck, Kitten,” Satan pants, his chest heaving as he pulls out of you. “But I’m not done with you quite yet.”

His tail releases its hold on your wrists. Grabbing your arm again before you can drop forward, he gently turns you to face him, pressing his lips to yours in a deep, passionate kiss briefly before he flips you over onto your back. Hands move to spread your legs, pushing your knees to your chest. Satan observes you closely, peering between your legs; admiring your pussy, his seed dripping a slow trail onto the tops of your thighs before sliding onto the table beneath you.

“I did say you had better not waste a single drop,” he muses, “yet here you are, leaking onto the table.”

Satan shakes his head before rubbing a thumb over your swollen clit. Feeling smug, he rubs just a bit faster, knowing the bundle of nerves is extra sensitive after your release, basking in the lewd noises you make.

“You fucking slut, you’re practically gaping for me. No wonder you can’t even keep all my cum inside you,” he chides, kneeling between your legs. “Perhaps I should help to ensure it stays inside of you?”

Pressing his fingers together, he slides his hand into your pussy.

“That’s my good girl,” Satan praises you, grinning at the way you continue to writhe at his touch.

The generous stretch of your pussy with his hand feels so good, nearly as good as his cock and you moan louder and bite your lip, head dropping back. A bulge appears between your hips as he begins to pump his fist slowly back and forth inside you, the movement causing a few more droplets of his cum to spill out onto your thighs, and can't help but laugh a little.

“Oh, I suppose this just means I need to fill you up again to ensure you’re bred properly, my beautiful little cumslut,” he resolves, voice laden with silk.

Pulling his fist from between your legs, he quickly replaces it with his tail, dipping it into your slick pussy and thrusting it in and out a few times.

"Wouldn't want you feeling empty for too long, pet," Satan purrs.

The ridges play beautifully over your g-spot, and you gasp at the feeling. God, how fucking delectable you look in that moment. Eyes glazed over and blown out with lust, so far gone to him. You are his, but he isn’t done with you just yet.

Satan smirks in satisfaction before sliding his tail out of your wet heat, moving it down and pressing the tapered tip of his tail against your puckered hole. Your eyes widen, curiosity and surprise widening your pupils.

“This time, kitten, I’m going to fuck both of your holes until you ask me to let you cum all over my cock; until you cum so hard , you’re seeing stars.”

Satan presses his tail, thoroughly coated in your arousal, harder against your ass, a smug look overtaking his handsome features as you whine. Your legs fold back, knees pressed into your chest as you open yourself completely to him.

“Do it, Satan, please ,” you beg him, eyes pleading with urgency. “I just want to be so full of you, full of your cock and your cum. Please.”

With your permission, he slides his tail into your ass, grinning sadistically as your head rocks back against the table, clenching slightly, the sinful melody of your sweet moans the most beautiful music he has ever heard. He pumps it back and forth a few times, slowly at first, tapered ridges massaging the tight muscles, working to open you to him just a bit further. Feeling yourself loosen, his tail begins to move just a bit faster.

“Such a desperate little slut, begging to let me wreck your holes. I hope you’re ready now to take all of me, pet,” Satan murmurs.

“I am, I am, just please fuck me!”

“Gladly, kitten.”

Placing both hands on your hips, Satan pushes his cock back inside your needy pussy, lifting your hips and groaning at the way your tight walls quiver around him. He slams into you mercilessly, propping up your legs to rest on his shoulders, allowing him to push deeply, until he can go no further. Eyes move down to your abdomen where he is greeted by the swell of his cock between your hips. Another feral growl sounds from his chest at the sight of it, moving even faster, mesmerized by the way your body bends to his every move.

“Look, pet,” he growls. “That’s right. That’s my cock swelling in your belly, stretching your tight little body out.”

Snapping his hips into you at an animalistic pace, his growls grow louder, demonic instinct taking over; the careful restraint he tried so hard to maintain completely gone at the sight of your belly distending with his cock inside it. He sees red, sees nothing but fulfilling his natural desires in the form of fucking your holes without mercy.

“Harder, Satan, harder! It feels so good, don’t hold back,” your voice rings out, words stunted by small gasps and moans.

The demon growls in slight annoyance, reaching a hand up to your throat, wrapping his fingers around it and squeezing lightly. His cock and his tail move in perfect sync, sliding in and out of your tight holes, increasing their pace as he fucks harder into you, caring little for your comfort as you bite back a scream.

“Is this what you want, kitten?” Satan’s words escape him in a feral snarl. “You like pushing boundaries, don't you, seeing exactly how much you can take or how much you can get away with? I think you may have forgotten, my sweet pet, of exactly who is in charge of your pleasure here. Perhaps you need a reminder.”

Snaking a hand between your legs, he rubs your clit feverishly. The Avatar of Wrath relishes your cries of pleasure, increasing in volume with each thrust until they near the high pitch of a scream.

“That’s right,” Satan growls. “Keep making those sounds for me, my sweet pet. Now… cum for me for a third time tonight like a good girl.”

The sweet, sweet pressure in your ass and your pussy is too much to bear, and your release slams into you with no warning. Body writhing beneath him, your back arches, electrified ecstasy coursing through your veins as your heart pumps into every part of your body. A high-pitched scream of pleasure cuts through the air, surely loud enough to wake his brothers, but he doesn’t care.

“That’s my good girl, kitten,” he rasps, words stunted in his efforts. “I’m right behind you…”

Moving at a brutally fast pace, Satan chases his own release. It grips him shortly after you cum, and he spills into you endlessly once more, groaning and filling your pussy with his bitter seed. He pulls out of you, slowly removing his tail from your ass and keeping your legs spread, kneeling before you once more. Noting the way his cum continually leaks from your gaping pussy onto the library table, he shakes his head, chuckling again as he zips his pants back up.

“Well, I suppose that just gives me another excuse to have to keep filling you up, hm, kitten?” Satan laughs, reaching a hand out to you.

“S-Satan… thank you…,” you whimper, gazing into the mesmerizing pools of jade sea you have come to know well over the course of the night before grabbing his hand, lacing your fingers through his.

“Oh? Thanking me?” he says in surprise, a genuine grin on his face. “I suppose I have to thank you as well, my sweet kitten. Thank you for taking all of me, and for giving me all of yourself.”

Satan steps back to pull you up to sitting as you pant and try to collect yourself. He wraps an arm around your waist, bearing your weight, your eyes closing in sudden exhaustion. He lifts you up off the table, pressing soft kisses against your forehead. You protest, starting to say something about leaving your notes behind and needing to study when Satan silences you with a deep kiss, pulling away after a few moments with a wink.

“Come, pet. Spend the night with me, and we will come to collect your things tomorrow. I believe a few healing spells and a bath are in order. And then, perhaps, see if we can’t get you those missing notes you’ve been searching for.”

#obey me #obey me satan #satan obey me #obey me satan x reader #satan x reader #obey me fanfic #obey me fanfiction #obey me fandom #shall we date obey me #obey me shall we date #swd obey me #obey me!#obey me swd #satan swd #swd satan

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poptod · 4 years ago

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Pull the Stars Out of the Sky (And Gift Them to Me), pt. 2 (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: The more you learn about why he’s keeping you there, the less you want to be there. Yet, there are parts of you that are becoming more comfortable in his presence.

Notes: I was a little worried, rereading the first part, that ahk being that affectionate was unrealistic for human behavior, but then this dude did exactly that to me n holy shit. okay. now i have a basis for my writing WC: 5.7k

As dusk began to claim the land, the thick scent of cooking meat and boiling beer began to drift from the city, a mouthwatering combination that quickly reminded you of your own hunger. The Pharaoh wasn't starving you purposefully––or at least you didn't think he was––but he had left you tied to his bed with no chance of escape. Your stomach bubbled as you stared out at the distant city, past the river and to the mirage of a horizon.

You tried to swallow, but your tongue cracked against the roof of your mouth. It had been a while now since you'd had anything to drink. As much as you hated it, you would have to ask Ahk for something to drink and eat when he came back.

Tugging at the restraints only worsened the burn around your wrists, your soft skin chafing against rough rope. Again you tried to swallow, muscles moving around nothing as you did, aching from misuse. You weren't sure if you should await his return with excitement or dread––yes, his return may herald food and water, but you were more at his mercy than ever before. Merely the fact that he knew of your existence set you on edge.

Outside the locked room, murmuring voices passed by, muted words accompanied by soft footfalls. You watched the door expectantly, but no latch clicked and no one entered.

A couple more groups passed by in the same manner before you stopped looking to the door. Instead you tried to focus on the city––if you squinted hard enough, you could see the moving heads of the market crowd thinning in the coming evening. How far away their life seemed and how you longed for it as never before. Very rarely did you ever take to idolizing or wanting things, as material possessions didn't ever interest you, and you were perfectly happy with the way your life was proceeding. Not anymore, of course. You wanted nothing more than an out for this. Terror didn't quite describe it––more of a quiet dread.

The click of the door caught your attention and you whirled around, eyes wide as they met the unfortunately familiar eyes of the Pharaoh. You hated to use his name. Too personal. He adored you, though––used your name often, smiled when he saw you.

"It's good to see you safe," he said as he approached you, a large and ornate tray in his hand. Once he reached the bed he knelt on it, setting the tray aside as he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"What's that?" You asked, motioning with your chin towards the tray. He brought it back to his side, pulling off the clay lid to reveal a wealth of fruit, bread, and wine. As if on cue your stomach growled, sparking a small chuckle from him.

"I realized you haven't gotten much to eat or drink since you've been here, so I thought you might enjoy it," he said, leaning forward further to untie your hands from the bed.

The moment he announced it was for you, you reached for one of the rolls and bit into it. Unlike much of the food you had during your life, it was soft, practically melting in your mouth as you chewed on the sweet flavor. It was, in a way, somewhat similar to what you imagined clouds would taste like.

He, in his naturally unsettling nature, watched you as you ate but did not partake in his gift. Halfway through the three plums you wondered if perhaps he had poisoned it, but considering how overprotective he was you didn’t consider it likely. If anything he would drug you into submission, and while that wasn't favorable outcome, it was a more lenient fate than poison.

"What kind of work did you do before you came here?" He asked. Your chewing gradually slowed as you looked to him, once again reluctant to inform him on yourself. But you swallowed, took a breath, and spoke.

"Small jobs," you said. "Favor for favors."

"Come now, I'm sure there's more to it than that. I'd like to learn about you," he said softer, as though his past cruel actions had not left blisters on your skin. You looked at him in contempt, let it simmer around him before you reluctantly continued.

"I travelled around a lot. People would ask me to do these favors for them––hunt the creatures taking their children, fix their roofs, crawl down the well to get the dead birds out, and in return I would have a meal and a bed for a little bit. Just a day or two. Didn't want to stay longer than that anyway," you said, trying to concentrate more on your food and less on his stare.

"How many towns have you stopped in?"

"I never counted," you said.

"Then how long have you been doing this for?"

"About as long as I can remember. Why are you keeping me here?"

He paused, taken back for a moment at your straightforward question.

"I told you, you're safer –"

"No," you interrupted him. "Why – why do you feel the need to keep me safe? You don't know me and I have been anything but kind."

This time he paused for longer, truly debated his words before he spoke them, and only answered when you raised your eyebrows expectantly.

"It's not like me," he finally said, deep and almost curt as his voice cracked. "My officials have been giving me strange looks for it, actually. I freed my slaves but kept you here... of course they'd have questions."

He looked down at his fidgeting fingers, trying to swallow through the lump in his throat.

"I don't know why, but..." he turned back to you, eyes meeting yours as he raised his hand to cup your face. You stayed stock still, trying not to give a single thing away. "... I want.. to keep you. There's something about your presence, the way you carry yourself, that draws me to you. In a way you remind me of a lot of the spark I.. I lost, sort of. It's not your responsibility to make me feel better, I want you to know that. I just have a deep appreciation for your presence. I feel as though I might get better when I see you."

That was, undeniably, one of the strangest things you'd ever heard about yourself. You could barely process what he was saying, an ineptitude of yours that only grew when he touched you.

"Do not steal my freedom for your own benefit," you whispered, just barely verging on fully speaking.

"I know," he said, and the guilt was clear on his face. Not that it mattered––no matter how guilty he felt or how wrong he knew his actions were, it meant nothing without the actions to back it up.

The silence that built up between you was broken not by sound but by movement. Ahk reached for one of the tiger rolls, sticky with the sweetness of sun-dried dates, and held it up for you. Confusion took you for a moment, quickly followed by hesitation as you realized he was trying to feed you. Himself.

Fucking –

You took a deep breath, calming the enraged thoughts in your head before you gingerly opened your mouth. Gently you bit into it. The bread of it squished, filling your mouth with a sweet, thick taste of honey, dates, and nuts. You chewed slowly before you swallowed.

"You're strange," you said.

"You're not the first to tell me that," he said with a grin. You smiled back, curt and polite and meaningless, but he still seemed to enjoy it.

"How long will you keep me here?" You asked, but with the quiet volume your voice cracked in the middle of your sentence.

"In my room? Or in the palace?"

"Both."

"Well," he glanced to the side uncertainly, "in my room until I am assured you won't run away, and in the palace... um, you shan't need to leave the palace without me. So I suppose you leaving the palace would coincide with when I do, or when you ask me. I'm perfectly happy to take the time to take you outside every now and then."

"So... never," you said, crossing your arms.

"Oh, don't be upset now," he said softly, leaning closer to you as his hand came to rest on your cheek. He led you to meet his eye. "You'll be alright. I know it seems like a lot, but you get used to it eventually. I speak from experience."

While curiosity did seize you for a moment, it dissipated at the sight of his wandering hands. As his thumb began to stroke your cheek, the other drew up your thigh, up your chest before it landed on the sensitive skin of your neck. He looked at you, tried to hold your eye as he touched you but you didn't dare look up. Instead, you stared at the edge of the bed, wondering what ideas he had in store for this evening.

"You are beautiful," he murmured, taking in every inch of your complexion. "Has anyone ever told you that?"

"I don't really talk to people," you answered quietly.

"Why not?"

"Never really interested me," you said.

"Then you're an opposite of me," he said with a growing smile. "I adore learning about others, about myself... and I think it'll be quite the adventure getting to know you, as well."

Not if I can help it, you thought, but you refrained from speaking the truth. Instead you nodded vaguely, still withholding eye contact.

"Are you tired?" He asked, tilting his head to the side.

"A little," you said through a hoarse voice.

"Finish the food you want," he said, pushing the tray a little closer to you. "Then we can sleep. I've had a long day, so I'm tired myself."

He's had a long day? You thought. Try attempting to escape a kidnapper and then failing ten feet. And being tied to a bed for several hours, you added on at the end, bitterness tainting your thoughts.

There was nothing you could do now––not with him in the room, not so late into the night. As much as you loathed to return to the position of the previous evening, you let Ahk move you as he pleased, accepting a more gentle touch over the forceful movements that appeared in your disobedience's wake. The sheets rustled for a good minute or two before he found a comfortable position, arms encircled tight around your waist with his face buried in your hair.

It wasn't a position you were particularly comfortable with, and you certainly didn't enjoy it, but the panic that had so fiercely seized you no longer plagued your sleepy mind. Discomfort, sure, but not panic. He would not hurt you. He would not force you into anything but staying with him, and while that fate may have been an unpleasant one that you'd rather not endure, it was better than the cruelties he could legally unleash upon you. And, you supposed, he wasn't horrendous looking. With his eyes fluttered shut and soft breaths leaving him, he was quite serene.

Almost... pretty.

You shifted back down into the position he pulled you into, settling your back against his chest. Once there he tucked you under his chin, arms tightening ever so slightly, before a long sigh was followed by satisfied silence.

You took a deep breath. Rose. Rather exotic. The only reason you could identify it, was because the you'd only smelled it one other time.

Wind brought you to stir, a brisk chillness that grew goosebumps on your skin. You grumbled unpleasantly, curling back into the one source of heat you had; another's body. It took less than a second for you to realize exactly where you were––cradled in the arms of the Pharaoh. Continued consciousness brought about another realization, as well. He was petting your hair. Again.

Opening your eyes, you found a decent amount of light in the room, and turned to find the morning sky.

"Morning," he mumbled, but made no effort to move. You struggled for a moment before giving in with a huff.

"Can I get up?"

"May you get up. And no," he shifted closer to you, "just a minute longer."

True to his word he soon released you, though still didn't make any attempt to get himself out of bed. He stayed sprawled on the mattress till the cool breeze became too much to comfortably bear. At that point he curled up, wrapping himself up in the sheets you left.

"Ugh," he groaned, "is Naguib here?"

"No," you said, eyes flickering to the door for a split second.

"Naguib??" He said, this time much louder, and scuttering came from behind the large doors.

"My King," Naguib acknowledged, gently shutting the door behind him.

"Why, in the name of Amun, is it so cold today," he asked gruffly, though entirely unmenacing.

"Piye says a wind from the eastern lands will be coming in for the next several days," Naguib said.

You watched from your seat against the wall as Naguib opened an expansive wardrobe, flicking through the various clothing till he found what satisfied him. "It's far too cold, I live here for warm weather," Ahk continued to complain thoughtlessly, burying his face in his pillow.

"You live here because you can't rule a nation from an oasis," Naguib said, flipping a long skirt in the air to rid it of wrinkles.

"Speaking of the kingdom," Ahk said as he rolled off the bed and onto the floor, "how's it doing this morning?"

"You have court this morning on –"

"The embalmers from Thebes?"

Naguib nodded.

"God damn it," Ahk mumbled. "Why can't we ever have those meetings in the afternoon? Why is it always in the morning I have to hear about the rotting bodies?"

"Don't ask me, Sir. You planned the court hearing," Naguib said, helping the Pharaoh to his feet and promptly dressing him in his robes.

While the servant fit the beaded collar over Ahkmenrah's shoulders, he glanced to you, to your little space in the corner where a rug had been set. Chill bit at your fingers, forcing you to hide them between your thighs, though even those were beginning to turn cold. Egypt was the furthest north you'd ever been.

"My King, if I might make a suggestion?" Naguib asked quietly, straightening out the long cape. Ahk nodded, and he continued. "Maybe take your.. um, Amoke, with you? It's going to be pretty cold all day and you haven't got any blankets or curtains."

"Hmm?" Ahk said as he turned back, first to Naguib, before his eyes flickered over to your huddled form. Though you felt his eyes on you, you did not look up.

The two of them muttered amongst themselves for a little while longer before Ahkmenrah was fully prepared for the morning. Only then did the Pharaoh approach you, offering his hand for you to take. He gave his reasoning clearly––today would be chilly, and being tied up to a bedpost probably wouldn't do your already-present wounds any good. You didn't truly want to spend the day with him, but there was very little argument when the only other option was shivering all day.

Torches lined the hallways you walked down, illuminating the corridors and their storytelling paintings. Some were familiar, ones that had caught your eye, while others escaped your waking memory.

"Tonight we shall be staying in a different room," Ahkmenrah declared, placing his hand on the small of your back as though he was leading you. "One more deep inside the palace, where we keep the fires."

"Where are we going now?" You asked, looking up at him.

"To court, unfortunately. But breakfast first."

You sat at a table the likes of which you'd never seen; dark, glazed wood that stretched down the entirety of a dining hall, whose end you could barely identify in the dawn's awakening. The Pharaoh sat at the head, and you to his left on the long end of the table. Upon being seated, two servants brought out several different trays, setting them out in front of Ahk. Each of them had their own theme-sort of food––fruit, meat, cheeses, breads, a cup of beer and a plate to set it on. He was quick to notice they brought no plate for you, and quietly requested one.

The two of you ate in relative silence for a couple minutes before Naguib joined, sliding in across from you. At first your eyes went wide––rarely had you ever heard of a servant joining the head of the table, but with one glance to the Pharaoh, your anxiousness dissipated. He didn't appear to mind. Slowly you turned back to eating, eyeing the two men every now and again.

What strange people, you thought.

When you were first told you would be attending court, your instant imagery of the room was the throne room––wide arches overlooking the city, confirming the ego of the chosen Pharaoh, who would always believe himself above the lives of those he ruled. Instead, as you stood at the tiny threshold of the court, high ceilings towered above you in spirals and painted stars, long pillars calling from the marble and pooling on the crystalline floor, where your reflection sat stunned below you. Already people lined the sides of the long hallway. At one end sat the raised floor of the throne, accompanied by a few smaller seats, and at the other end were large, wooden doors allowing the light of the sun to come spilling into the room.

Eyes trailed after the Pharaoh as he took his seat, and by proxy the attention of the public fell on you, the unnamed, poorly-dressed stranger in tow. Naguib came up behind you, whispering in your ear to stand at the side of the throne, and to remain behind it at all times. Without thought you obeyed; this would be a long day, and it was one of the less demeaning rules to follow.

As the court was called into session, more servants came out from behind the throne, carrying sticks of fire with which they lit the beacons placed on either side of the room. The doors soon shut to keep out the unnatural chill, leaving much but the throne in shadow.

Every now and again you glanced to Ahk. He practiced much of the image you'd come to fear––the confidence, the succinct use of words, without a smile so much as occurring to him in thought. When he looked to you, though, in tiny moments where eyes were more trained on criminal testimonies rather than the Pharaoh himself, a familiar warmth filled his expression, and he would gift you a tiny smile. Each time you inhaled sharply and turned away––holding eye contact was a little much for you today.

Murmurings in the crowd grew steadily louder till you finally recognized the extra voices as coming from outside. Your fingers clenched into fists, staring at the doors as Ahkmenrah conversed quietly with his advisors.

As you suspected, the doors swung open, a soldier entering with subordinates behind him. He grew nearer to the feet of the throne, soon gaining the Pharaoh's attention along with your recognition. You'd seen this man before––your breath caught in your throat when you realized it was the same soldier who locked you up, and he was glaring at you with a menacing glint in his eye.

"My King," he said, bowing before he mentioned anything else. "I am Thaabit, I oversee the shipping complex in northern Memphis. A few days ago we lost one of our inhabitants. We have been searching, and... we discovered they made it here."

Ahk raised a single brow, scanning the man intently.

"Are you referring to Amoke?" He finally asked after painfully stretched silence.

"Yes, the slave beside you," he said with a nod, turning to you.

"I am not a slave," you said firmly, but Ahk silenced you with a raise of his hand, turning dully back to Thaabit, who was still bowed on his knees.

"Did they commit any crime?"

"Trespassing, for one," Thaabit said. "Not even citizens of Egypt are allowed in the complex, and I believe Amoke is from Mali. And without a legal card for travel and trade."

Ahk took another minute to process the man's words while you sweated beside him, your bottom teeth grinding into your skull.

"What do you suggest I do then?"

"Return them to the complex, of course."

He laughed––the Pharaoh, stone-faced and cruel, belted out a laugh in front of the whole of court. Wide eyes stared at him from the crowd, as did yours.

"Amusing," he said. "I'm not doing that."

"But my King ––"

"Silence," the Pharaoh commanded, and the soldier readily obeyed. "Anyone else to accuse Amoke of wrongdoing, or attempt to harm them in any way, will be punished henceforth. I'll let you off with a warning, Thaabit, as you did not know of this rule––but do not ask after them again, or you will be the one being sent shackled to Punt."

You watched from your spot in the shadows, watched the soldiers' deteriorating will, crumbling from a once-tall chest to hunched shoulders and a twisted, nervous expression.

"Yes, my King. Thank you," he said, much softer than any of his other words, and left with his spear gripped tight in his fist. Breath once taken from you returned in a relieved sigh.

"Thank you," you mumbled, half-hoping he wouldn't hear.

"Of course, my dear," he said, though didn't turn to you. "Anything for your safety."

He remained in a quiet mood for the rest of the day. Throughout dinner you tried to gauge his thoughts, to dig into what was on his mind, but there was little you could do without speaking. He didn't seem in the right mindset for a conversation, and you didn't want to open your mouth anyway.

"I enjoy taking you places," he said out of nowhere as the two of you strolled down the halls. "It's... cathartic, to see you smile during a long day."

You couldn't recall ever smiling today, but you didn't mention it. Instead you let his words sit for a moment before asking a question.

"Where are we going now?"

"I have to overlook our honey trade for the evening, make sure the transport and storage goes according to plan. Usually I'd have Piye do this, but... well, they're overlooking a ceremony tonight."

The sun had, somehow, already set behind the low mountains of the horizon. It was one of those rare times where you were surprised by the time of day––most days, you were outside all the time, and could easily predict the time of sunset. Being cooped up in the palace led you to this confusion, and for you to shiver from the chill wind of evening.

Like most Egyptians occupying the city, you were dressed in very light clothes, gifted to you by the King in lieu of your dirty outfit. While he conversed with the honey farmers, you wrapped yourself up in your arms and scanned your surroundings.

You stayed close to the small, outside door leading into the cellar, the open arch followed by lowering steps. Here the ground was pure, soft sand, unoccupied by buildings or citizens. Though you couldn't see the Nile, palm trees and small bushes surrounded you in little groves. The only movement came from the farmers and the Pharaoh. Tall, clay vases sat in a special cart, piled on top of each other with large corks stuck in the top.

"Perfect," Ahk said, counting the golden rings in his hand. "Safe journey to you."

"Thank you, my King," the main farmer said with a bow. He made a sign to the others, and they began to lift the jars into the cellar with great, careful effort.

"Most Pharaohs had their honey grown and harvested near the palace, for convenience," Ahk said once he stood beside you, his voice quiet for only you to hear. "I've found that the best honey is a little ways down the river––it's worth the payment for the delivery. Do you like honey?"

"I've only tried it a few times, but yes," you said.

"Mmm, I think you'll like this then," he said, smiling.

It wasn't long until the many jars were placed in the cellar, and the farmers were set off back in the direction of home. Ahk led you by your shoulder down the steps, where the air grew cooler yet, and the scent of fermented wine hit you strong.

"I believe we have some extra rations of sweet cakes down here," he said, leaving your side to search the rows of jars and pots. You watched from afar.

"It isn't necessary t-"

"Oh well of course it isn't necessary," he grinned, "but it is nice, isn't it? If you have wealth, why not enjoy it from time to time?"

You hummed acknowledgement but weren't sure whether you agreed or disagreed with his statement. Nonetheless, he continued his search, only returning to you when he found a sealed jar of the hard cakes. He paused in front of you, chest to yours as he smiled softly down at you. Gentle pressure of his fingers on your bare arm nearly had you flinching away, but he kept you in place, scanning you like a prized belonging.

"If I have you," he murmured, brushing the hair out of your eyes, "why not enjoy you from time to time?"

You could almost feel yourself go pale, but the Pharaoh just beamed and kissed your forehead, leaving your personal space with that small prize.

"Come now, Amoke," he said, calling you over to where the large jugs of honey were stored.

He handed the two biscuits in his hands to you, kneeling to work at the oversized cork. As it twisted, a soft hissing sound began to come from it, and slowly but surely it popped out of the vase's neck. Once he set the cork aside, he reached for a long stirring stick and dipped it into the golden honey. It dripped down sweetly as he drew it out.

"Hold this," he said.

The two of you switched positions, with him now carrying the biscuits and you holding up the stick of honey. He held the cakes out, letting thin strands of honey pour onto the top of the bread, breaking into thinner rivers that dripped back into the pot.

Once he was satisfied, he held the cake up to your mouth, letting you gently bite in as the stick in your hand went limp. While you slowly chewed, he closed the jug and set away the stirstick.

"Good?" He asked, biting into his own cake.

"Very," you said after much deliberation. It was almost too sweet. You liked it quite a lot, but you didn't want to tell him that, just in case it would inflate his ego.

"There is a great many of dishes I think you'll enjoy. I doubt you'll have had any of them before, if what you say about your past is true," he said, leading you out of the cellar as you both finished with your biscuits.

You'd almost forgotten his earlier words, but they quickly came back to you when he took you to a different bedroom. True to his word––deep inside the palace, where a fire was already stoked, lighting the room with warm light that flickered and danced with the shadows. Drapes of purple and pink fell from the ceiling, their curves leading to the image of the sky goddess, Nut. The bed was dressed in gold and blood red colors, blankets and pillows overflowing the mattress, while burning incense hung from the middle of the canopy.

Ahk took your hand and led you deeper into the room, pulling you to the center while he closed the door behind you. A lock clicked, but unlike the previous times, you didn't jump. By now you must've already expected him to lock it.

"I want you to be perfectly honest with me," he said, still standing behind your back. You froze, your posture straight as you stared straight ahead. "I won't punish you."

That's comforting, you thought to yourself, bitterly.

"How did you find yourself in that complex? Were you looking for something?"

"Is that what's been bothering you all day?" You asked through a tight throat.

For a moment he was quiet, and your heart was seized with fear, until he chuckled low and soft.

"Perceptive little thing, aren't you?"

"S-sorry, sir," you stammered out.

"No need to apologize," he said, and the heat of his words brushed the back of your neck, followed by a tracing finger as he circled you to face you. "Now answer me."

You could barely breathe, conscious thought more out of your head than ever before. Piercing eyes settled upon your own, staring through the walls you built between yourself and the world, devastating your shaky facade of safety.

"I thought I recognized one of the captives," you said, barely audible above the fire. Though your eyes fell from his gaze, he continued to stare. "It was a girl I met when I was younger. I played with her for an afternoon, and... she was begging with your soldiers. I couldn't leave her there, even if she wasn’t the girl I met."

He remained silent, waiting for you to continue.

"She is going to be turned to a slave, isn't she?"

"I'm afraid so," he murmured, almost sorrowful. Almost. "How did you escape?"

"They aren't very smart, your guards. It wasn't hard. Just had to wear down the restraints and leave when they were sleeping," you said with a shrug.

"And how did you end up in my room?"

Now he asks, you thought, internally rolling your eyes.

"It's... a long story," you tried, but your avoidant nature was caught quickly by the Pharaoh.

"We have all night," he said, stepping closer yet. "Unless you want to retire to bed already."

One glance to the small bed and you froze––not yet. You weren't mentally prepared quite yet.

"I got mistaken for one of your servants and I was herded into the palace by a guard. I managed to split off from the group, but you have patrols in the hallway, so I hid in the first room I found," you answered.

"I'm glad you did, then," he said softly, raising your head by a finger beneath your chin. "You are... perfect. Intelligent, passionate... beautiful. I am overjoyed to have met you in this life."

"As opposed to another life?"

"Yes, well," he chuckled, "the sooner the better, right? Take a seat, dear."

His hands held yours as he led you to the fireplace, pulling you to the carpeted floor. Piles of pillows and blankets surrounded you, accompanied by the ferns of palm trees hanging above you from the ornately painted vases, one on either side of the fireplace. As he moved to take a seat, you expected him to sit beside you or across from you like a normal person. Instead he placed his knees on either side of your hips, trapping you beneath him as he reached for you, pulling his fingers from your hands to your jaw.

You shivered from his touch and he laughed––cupping your face as he lovingly brushed the hair from your face.

"Sensitive, are you?" He asked in a teasing manner, clearly delighted by your reactions. You on the other hand hated it, and blushed brightly.

"It's only because I don't like people touching me," you said, turning away from Ahk. He was having none of that; forced you to look him in the eye, lips ever so slightly parted as his gaze fell to your own lips.

"Unfortunate," he said, sure to keep quiet in the small space between you. "I think you have touched me once, but I enjoyed it very much. You have nice hands."

It was obvious he expected you to touch him, to give into his questionless request. But you didn't. You barely maintained eye contact and your hands remained rooted behind you. Subdued irritation tugged at his smile, and to satisfy his need that you wouldn't willingly gift, he dipped his face into your collar, nuzzling his nose beneath your jaw and wrapping himself so tightly around you there was no space at all between the two of you.

He stayed like that for a couple minutes. When it became clear to him that you would not return the affection, he adjusted himself further, wrapping his legs around your torso as well and pressing the side of his face to your own. Like this he could easily tilt his head and kiss your cheek, which he did do inbetween playing with your hair and breathing your scent in deep.

"Mmm," he hummed softly, "you are a wonder of the Gods."

You didn't have the space of mind to tell him you don't follow his religion.

He pulled away, his hand still resting on your cheek, and said, "I will do anything to protect you. Know that, alright? And I will do anything in my power to keep you happy."

"I am not a person whose affections can be won with gifts. I'm sorry," you said, stating a simple truth.

"No, I didn't think so. You didn't seem the type. But I will grow gardens in your name. I will commission art of anything you like, and it shall be painted on the walls of the city. I will make you a God in my peoples' eyes."

A god? Your expression must've given away your alarm, as he smiled and explained himself.

"They listen to my every word. If I should say the night is day and the day is night, so it will be written... and so will you be remembered," he murmured, words spoken against your lips as he dipped in to kiss you. "A God for all of time."

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek #rami malek character #ahkmenrah x female reader #ahkmenrah x male reader

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elvish-sky · 4 years ago

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The Temptation of Regality: A Sense of Belonging {Thorin x Reader}

A.N: So first of all, this is not the big falling out/angsty part of the story, that’s in a few chapters. The troll scene is one of my favorites in both book and movie, and I actually wrote a full separate thing using all the dialogue and stuff from the book and movie but figured that if you guys wanted that you could just read/watch them. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! Please consider voting/commenting, it really makes my day!

Word Count: 1,786

Pairing: Eventual Thorin x Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, Thorin is a jerk

****

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

Part 2: A Sense of Belonging

“Uh oh.” You paused mid-swing as the sounds of fighting died down around you and looked up to see two of the trolls holding Bilbo. You backed up to stand with your dwarf companions, waiting to see what would happen. As you stepped back, your foot caught on a root and you tripped backward to sprawl on the ground, weapons dropping around you as you did so. You saw a pair of feet next to your head, and you looked up to see the angry face of Thorin attached. “Get up!” he hissed, and you scrambled to your feet, trying and failing to look nonchalant as the trolls reached out and grabbed Dori and Dwalin, tying them onto a spit over the fire. You gulped, praying that they wouldn’t try to fit all of you on it at once.

“Ouch!” you exclaimed as you hit the ground in a sack. A hand quickly clamped over your mouth as you spoke, and, angry you turned your head to see the king-to-be tied in a sack next to you, shushing you. You shook your head and dislodged his hand. “What d’ya think you’re doing?” “If you talk, they might eat us sooner.” “Thorin, they already caught us, I think they’ll eat us whenever they want. Besides, Bilbo’s talking right now!” You listened as he said something about skinning dwarves, causing the pile of them in sacks around you to wiggle and yell.

Then the realization hit, “Wait. You meant the trolls would eat us faster if specifically, I spoke. You really think I’m that awful that something would eat me just to shut me up.” He wouldn’t meet your eyes. “Well!” you huffed, “apparently you do have a sense of humor, it just decides to show itself at the wrong moments,” and shifted yourself so that you were facing away from him, lying in between him and Balin.

You wiggled in your sack, trying to reach your boot to grab the knife you knew was tucked in next to your sock. As you did this, you bent at an awkward angle and glimpsed a flash of grey between the trees surrounding the clearing. You noticed Bilbo’s eyes flash with recognition as he saw it as well, and silently encouraged him to keep stalling. Then the pile of dwarves around you erupted with cries of “I don’t have parasites!” and “you have parasites!” Figuring it was a tactic of Bilbo’s you kicked Kili to make him shut up. It seemed like Thorin had had the same idea as well, for Kili glared at both of you before it hit him. “Mine are the biggest parasites!” he quickly corrected himself, catching on. You and Thorin glanced at each other before quickly looking away, embarrassed.

You went back to fiddling for your knife, until, with a whispered cry of satisfaction, you caught it between your fingers. You brought it up to your chest and began to saw on the rope tying you in the sack, wishing you had a larger, more efficient blade like one of your daggers. Just as you finally cut through the rope, cries came from the trolls, and your eyes lifted to see them quickly turning to stone, Gandalf standing triumphant on a rock behind them. With a sigh of relief, you shrugged the sack off and stood up, stretching. You turned to Balin and began to cut him free, finishing and then making your way through the rest of the dwarves.

“Y/N, how did you get free so quickly?” Kili asked as you sawed on the rope trapping him. “I mean, the second the trolls were stone you were up with a flash!” “I spent most of the time in the sack trying to reach the knife, it was sheer coincidence that I cut the rope at the same time the trolls froze.” “Ahh,” he nodded in understanding. “Well, it’s good to know that had Bilbo and Gandalf not defeated the trolls so cleverly, we would have eventually been freed by you...” His voice faded at the end of his sentence, and his eyes were gazing at something just beyond you with a look of fear in them.

You stood and turned to see the leader of the company glaring up at you. “What is this about you having the means to free us and not using it?” “I was going to use it, I was just trying to get to it. Also, it’s rather small, it would have taken a while to cut everyone free.” You held up the knife to show it’s size.

“Still, if you had that all along, why did you not cut us all free?” Thorin gestured to your knife as he spoke. “Because I. Could. Not. Reach it!!!! I spent the entire time I was in that sack trying to get to it, and once I did the trolls were stone! There was literally nothing I could have done to help free us, and if there had been I would have done it! In case you didn’t notice, my king, I was also about to be eaten!”

You stomped off towards the ponies, only to realize that, in fact, the ponies were gone. “So I guess we’re traveling on foot now?” Kili asked. Thorin shot him a glare, and his nephew clammed up and hurried to start walking. As the group set off, you lingered close to the back so that you could hear what Thorin and Dwalin were muttering about. “Don’t blame the lass, Thorin,” you heard Dwalin speaking in low tones to his friend. “She couldn’t have freed us any quicker than Bilbo had.” “Still,” the king replied, “she shouldn’t have just focused on freeing herself. If she’s not going to be able to help the group in situations like that then she is utterly useless.”

You felt your cheeks growing hot with anger as tears started to fill your eyes. You had always cried when angry, ever since you were little, but it had never presented itself at a more inopportune time. You were about to turn and confront the two dwarves but paused as you heard Dwalin speak again. “Thorin, you couldn’t have done anything else to free us either. Neither could I. It was sheer luck that Bilbo was smart enough to stall for Gandalf. We should not blame Y/N for not being able to do something that none of the rest of us could do either.” With that Dwalin increased his pace and left a bemused and slightly remorseful Thorin behind.

You collapsed onto the ground in the campsite that Nori and Bofur had picked out for the night, spreading your bedroll to claim a spot slightly separate from where you knew the dwarves would soon be squished together. Sure, sleeping farther from the fire did mean you were colder, but it was worth it to be slightly farther from the snoring.

With a sigh, you slowly drifted off into unconsciousness. You weren’t awake when Thorin, seeing you shivering on the ground and feeling slightly remorseful for his words earlier, picked his way through the campsite of sleeping dwarves to stand over you. He studied you for a moment, hearing the faint chatter of your teeth with cold, and shrugged off his fur coat, draping it over you and tucking it in around your neck, hand lingering on your cheek as he brushed the hair off your face. He smiled as you unconsciously leaned into his touch and snuggled down with his coat covering you.

“Uncle?” Thorin whirled around to see Fili, standing at the edge of the campsite with arms full of firewood. “What are you doing?” “Nothing! I just noticed that the human was cold and figured it would be bad if she froze, that’s all.” “Ok,” Fili clearly did not believe Thorin but was willing to let it go. “If that’s all…” he tossed the wood onto the fire as he said this, making the flames die down and then shoot up fueled by the addition. Thorin bounded across the campsite to grab his nephew by the shoulder. “Listen to me,” he drew Fili close so that he could see his eyes. “If you tell anyone, and I mean anyone, even Kili, of what you just saw, I’ll kick you off this quest so fast, it’ll make your head spin.” “Ok, Uncle.” Fili walked away and settled into his bedroll with a smirk. He eagerly anticipated what you would do when you woke with the king’s coat draped over you the next morning.

You awoke the next day to the sounds of birds chirping and the sun shining on your face. You sat up and stretched your arms above your head, gazing at the canopy of leaves through which the early morning light filtered through. As you did so you felt something heavy slide down from around your shoulders. It was a fur coat. Figuring it was Fili’s as you’d seen him wearing furs before, you walked over to where the golden-haired dwarf was packing his belongings. “Thank you for this,” you held out the coat for him to take. He smirked as he saw what it was. “That’s not mine, Y/N.” “It’s not?” “No. In fact, I believe it belongs to my uncle over there.” He pointed at Thorin, who was sitting on a log across the clearing sharpening his newly found sword. Shocked at this revelation, you questioned Fili. “He hates me. Why would he give me his coat?” “Maybe you should just go ask him, Y/N.”

So you walked over to Thorin and held out the coat. “Um, thank you for the coat. Why did you give it to me.” You were surprised to notice a faint blush on his cheeks as he rose. Shrugging the coat on, he spoke, “I noticed you get rather cold at night. I gave you my coat to prevent that, it wouldn’t do for one of my company to be unable to sleep because of something so easily remedied.” You shifted back and forth with a little embarrassment that he would notice. “Well, I appreciated the extra warmth, I certainly slept better than I have been.”

You turned and walked back to your bedroll to pack it up, trying to hide your sudden happiness. After his words yesterday, you had feared that he hated you, and would never accept you as part of the group. Now, though, you felt a real sense of belonging and acceptance, although you thought you might have felt a little more than that from Thorin. It was probably just your imagination, though. A dwarf would never feel for a human in that way.

Everything tag💞: @entishramblings @itgetsatadhazy @boyruins @anjhope1

Lmk if you want to be added to a taglist for this series, all my writing, or anything else!

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ilguna · 4 years ago

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Anteric - Chapter Six (f.o)

summary: secrets have more worth than you gave them credit for.

warnings; swearing. FIGHTING, GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, GORE, BLOOD, INJURIES.

wc; 8.6k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

Finnick is still picking blue paint out of his hair this morning. Each time he goes to run a hand through it, he’ll get stuck halfway through, due to a clump of knotted blue hair. You try not to laugh, but every now and then a cough will slip out. At some point, he gives up and goes to take a shower in hopes to fix his problem.

Since you woke up fairly early again, you have enough time to get ready at a leisurely pace. Unfortunately, you're sure that the sun has already risen, so there wouldn’t be a point to go up the Pit to see. And you think that’s for the best, because it’s not safe up there anymore. Not now that Finnick knows where you’d go if you need a moment to breathe.

Well, that’s one of the places. Hopefully he won’t figure out the other.

You’ve realized that you probably need to speak to him sometime soon, considering the rift that’s continuing to grow. The only problem is that you’ve already apologized for your sudden distance. He just ignored it.

You think you’ve said this before, but Finnick will get extremely upset to the point where he’ll stop talking. He used to do that all the time to a couple of other people that you knew in Abnegation. You weren’t his only friend, just the best. There’s only been a few times where you’ve been on the receiving end of his cold behavior. And he’s always bounced back from it.

Half of the time it’s because you gave him space to think about what he wanted. He would just wander back on his own, heart in his hands to give to you. In those moments, it was always his fault. Which is why it was so easy for him to come talk to you again.

Other times, you’d persist after Finnick, trying to get him to budge and talk to you again. This is how you found out that it would be harder to talk to you again. Because you were constantly trying to get him to. It just built up annoyance more, and prolonged the silent treatment. This option is always the second choice, a last resort for dire situations.

Which is why you’re so caught right now.

Finnick could really need you to go after him, or he could really need you to stay away. And honestly, you don’t mind either of those plans, except the latter one has a problem hidden within it. Normally when you’d leave Finnick alone, it would be because he didn’t have anyone else to talk to.

If you go on and move onto Trink circle for the time being while you wait for him to come around, he won’t be alone. He won’t have time to think about why he’s angry by himself. He’ll have someone else to delay that entire process. You know Finnick like the palm of your hand, he can and will put talking to you off for as long as possible.

You thought that Thyme could be a nice addition to yours and Finnick’s friendship, but it seems like she’s going to be making things more complicated. And there’s a hot, sticky feeling in your chest that’s telling you it isn’t a coincidence. From the moment she’s gotten here, she’s been weird.

A hand slaps your foot, making the laces slip from your fingers, your foot falling to the floor. Thyme passes in front of you, and sits down on her bed. It’s only when she starts to lace her first shoe, does she look at you, “Keep your dirty shoes off my bed.”

You stare at her for a moment, and the only thought that comes to your mind is the fact that you’re too tired for her bullshit. You fix your laces before standing up, leaving her alone. You stretch your arms and legs, moving toward the middle of the room. Caspian said that training wouldn’t resume until tomorrow, but that just means you’ll be stuck shooting guns for ten hours.

Finnick comes out of the bathroom, briefly catching your eye. He’s fully dressed, a black towel hangs around the back of his neck to catch the water from his hair. You move out of his way, not thinking too much into the movement. All you know is that you don’t want to be caught in the storm that might be brewing at the moment.

Which ultimately means you just unintentionally made the decision you’ve been worrying over for the past couple of minutes. You guess that your first instinct has never been to pry. And you also guess that this is a result of the Abnegation conditioning. You’re not supposed to ask questions, especially if it might hurt the other person.

But you aren’t in Abnegation anymore, are you?

You spare a glance in Finnick’s direction, wondering if it’s too late to go back and change your mind. His back is already turned toward you, and he’s talking to Thyme. He turns his body slightly, going to sit down on his bed. The smile on his face is almost unforgivable, a light feeling arising in your stomach.

There’s a split second where you recognize that he’s going to look toward you, his head is already turning, his eyes still on Thyme. You think that you’ll be able to muster up enough courage to talk to him. But it all disappears the moment his eyes land on you. And you find yourself turning before you say to.

Trink is stretching her arms above her head, her tank top rides up slightly to reveal her belly. She lets out a slight yawn, and then she pulls her top back down and looks between you, Eytelle and Allio.

“Breakfast?” she proposes.

You wonder how far is too far with Finnick.

“Yeah.” Eytelle agrees, Allio raises to his feet.

Trink’s eyes land on you, waiting to see what you have to say.

You roll your shoulders and give her a bright smile, “Well, obviously.”

Trink leads the way out of the dormitory, with Eytelle and Allio in the middle, and you taking up the back. Up until the door slides shut smoothly behind you, your hands are balled into fists and you can’t relax your shoulders no matter how hard you try. You just feel safer now that you’re out of sight, at least their eyes won’t be on you.

For a while, you focus on Allio and Eytelle’s voice echoing off the walls, as they talk about what they think their rank might be. It’s an easy enough conversation for you to escape to. Since the answer should be pretty difficult to find, because of technicalities and all. But the mystery is solved two minutes later, and the distraction is no longer here.

You’re lucky that the walk to the dining hall is short.

“You two head inside, we’ll follow in a minute.” Trink says, giving them a polite smile.

“Do you want to sit with the Dauntless-borns?” Eytelle is walking backwards.

Trink makes a face like she’s telling them ‘obviously’, but speaks anyway, “Make sure it’s with Lennox.”

Eytelle nods, and the two of them disappear inside. Trink turns to you next, her smile fading from her face, “Why didn’t you say anything to her?”

You press your lips together for a moment, and then you speak, “I know what I’m doing with Finnick.”

“Really?” she rolls her eyes, “Come on, (Y/n).”

“I’ve been dealing with him for my entire life.” you tell her, drifting towards the doorway. You two might be friends now, but you don’t have to reveal all your secrets to her just yet. It’s been less than a day, “Thyme won’t last, trust me.”

She raises her eyebrows, “You should still talk to him.”

“I will.” you say, she’s starting to follow you now, “I’ll do it tomorrow before the final fight.”

Trink shrugs.

The two of you stand together for a while, before she’s the first to spot your group from last night. At the table, she greets Lennox and slides right in next to him. She serves herself a small portion of toast and blueberry pancakes, as always, and starts talking as if they’ve been friends for a long time.

Ameer and Mirza are sitting across from each other, a path is cleared between them to allow the arm wrestling match. It seems like they’re both struggling, since Mirza will stay on top for a while, straining. Then Ameer will get a burst of strength and push his brother’s arm down toward the table. Neither of them have won yet.

Sydney is twirling a strand of her hair around her finger, talking to Nestor and occasionally Ameer. It’s always through gritted teeth and gasps if he does respond. She doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, no one looks bothered over the twins’ shenanigans.

Claris isn’t gathered with you guys, she’s actually sitting on the far end of the table off to the left. Hallie sits beside her, the two of them talk every now and then between long stretches of silence. However, the person that is sitting here with you guys, is Blaire.

He’s got one of his black curls pulled out, talking to Lennox and Trink. When he lets go, the curl bounces back into place as if it wasn’t out in the open just seconds before.

“Four people are going to be cut after this last fight, right?” Trink says, she’s squishing a blueberry between her fork and her plate.

“Yeah,” Lennox says, “The two lowest ranking initiates from both groups.”

Trink hums, “Who’s your two?”

Blaire gives her a look, and then you, “You first.”

“Amos and Ossie.” you say, carving your fingernail into the wooden table, “No question about it.”

Trink’s face twists for a moment, eyebrows raising, and then dropping. Like she’s trying to tell you that it isn’t set in stone. Like she’s trying to tell you that you’ve lost your last two fights, technically Ossie is ranked above you at the moment, and so is Trink.

That won’t last long. You’ll be winning tomorrow’s fight, no matter who it’s against.

“That was easy.” Lennox breathes out a laugh, and then he jabs his thumb to Claris and Hallie, “They’re out. Neither of them have won. They talk shit but the rest of us are taller and stronger than they are.”

Sydney pauses what she’s saying to Nestor to lean in, “The two of them talk like they own the world. Should’ve seen their faces when they got their asses kicked on the first day. Or when they couldn’t even move the punching bag.” Nestor nods in agreement.

“Huh,” you let out.

Blaire shrugs, “Just how it is.”

Trink leans her head against her hand, pushing her plate away now, “How was it working with Finnick and Thyme?”

The question makes Mirza lose at the arm wrestling match. Blaire stares at Trink for a long moment, his eyebrows drawing in, “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious. I guess I should’ve asked if he mentioned anything about (Y/n). And what exactly did he say?”

You want to stomp on Trink’s foot beneath the table, but she’s not across from you. You wish that she wouldn’t go around asking questions like this. You don’t care what he said about you during the paintball match. In fact, you could guarantee that it’s not anything bad, because Finnick doesn’t bad-mouth until he’s absolutely certain that the other person is his enemy.

You press your lips together and scowl.

“Well,” Blaire looks uncomfortable, as he probably should be, “It’s complicated… I guess.”

“Oh, come on.” Trink waves her hand, “You can’t hurt her feelings, she’s a brick wall.”

You’re suddenly glad that she hasn’t seen you vulnerable just yet. And that you held yourself together after the incident in the Pit, hanging over the river. Otherwise she might be saying something else right now.

Blaire looks to Mirza for reassurance, but the twins are gone. The two of them have vanished without a single word. Blaire sighs, “Finnick said that the two of you had grown up together.” his eyes are on you, “And that you know everything about him, including his weaknesses. He also said that your actions are predictable which is why you aren’t threatening.”

Silence sweeps the table. You let the hotness take over your face first. Anger so rich and raw that you might as well be a reincarnated god. But there’s something bubbling in your chest, light and friendly. The exact opposite of war and bloodshed.

You try to stay straight-faced, but there’s a crack at the corner of your lips. Until you burst, tears forming in your eyes. The laugh is loud, but draws no attention from the other Dauntless around you. With the exception of the group you’re sitting with, of course. You end up covering your mouth, trying to be a bit more modest.

“Not threatening, huh?” You smile, running your finger over the divot you’ve carved into the table. Then, you look up to Blaire, “If I were you, I’d be skeptical.”

Blaire doesn’t respond right away, “What does that mean?”

“Well, for starters.” You place your palms on the table, getting ready to leave, “He doesn’t know me as well as he thinks.”

You stand up from the bench. The clock on the wall says that it’s ten minutes to eight, which means you’ll be arriving in the training room early if you leave now. It’ll give you a moment to think and reassess your next move.

You take a step forward, but then stop, “Finnick isn’t as put-together as he likes to show. It’s all a façade. I’ll be in the training room.”

You take your time leaving the dining hall, not seeing a reason to rush. You have more than enough time to get there, and you need to spend it all.

On the way out, you pass Finnick and Thyme.

You were wrong. You thought that Finnick would keep his opinions of you to himself. The two of you don’t know these people, and they weren’t in your business to begin with. So what is he doing, basically telling people that you’re weak?

A hand hooks around the inside of your elbow, keeping you from talking further.

You yank your arm out, turning to face Finnick, while putting distance between the two of you. The mere look on his face is enough for you to set your jaw, clenching your teeth together. A deer in headlights, a child acting like it doesn’t know what it did wrong, an act.

“Hey,” he says, even his voice is soft, like he’s trying to coax you, “Are you okay?”

Your first instinct is to snap and then run. Leave him blinded and shocked just like you were a couple of moments ago. But the longer you stare at him, the more you begin to realize that he’s not acting. He’s being genuine.

“I’m fine.” you force yourself to calm down, standing up so that you aren’t hunched over, “Thanks for asking, though.”

“Are you sure?” Finnick straightens out too, “Do you want to talk about it?”

You can see Thyme stalking over his shoulder, eyes boring right into yours. Watching, waiting. Probably wanting material to spread around to the others. Look at (Y/n), upset over this and not nearly as scary as she can seem at times. She’s probably the one that managed to convince Finnick that you aren’t threatening.

“Not with her around.” you snarl, looking past him, “You’re a goddamn coward, you know that? And it’s no surprise, you come from Amity.”

She backs up, face twisting when Finnick looks over his shoulder.

“Really?” you ask, moving forward. Finnick presses a hand to your chest, keeping you from going any further. You look at him dead in the eyes, “You’re stopping me? Why? She can take care of herself. If she’s going to cause problems, then she’s going to deal with the consequences.”

“You’re not thinking straight.” Finnick says, not affected by how angry you are.

You slap his hand off and shove him back in one move, “So? Does that scare you, Finnick? What happened to me not being threatening?”

Finnick’s confused for a second, but then his face smoothes over, and he’s shaking his head, “That’s what this is about?”

You grit your teeth, “Yes, Finnick, that’s why I’m upset.”

“You don’t know the context--”

“No!” your voice is loud, “Blaire told me the context. You said I wasn’t threatening because I’m so fucking predictable.” you shove him again, “If I’m so predictable to you, then why do you bother to stick around?”

Finnick doesn’t say anything, there’s an overwhelming silence that sits between you two. Thyme doesn’t even move from where she is, her hand is pressed against the wall as if she’ll fall over. What a drama queen.

It seems like you have attracted attention, though. Out of the corner of your eye, you’re able to see Damon coming your way. Why he’s still inside of the dining room when he eats earlier than everyone else, you don’t know. What you do know is that you’re about to get in trouble.

“Back up.” Damon says, motioning, “Now.”

You do, hands balling into fists. You should’ve hit him when you had the fucking chance to. Or lunged straight towards Thyme, who’s playing up the innocent act again.

“Where are you going?” he looks at you first.

“The training room.”

Then his eyes land on Finnick and Thyme. Finnick’s the one to speak, “For breakfast.”

“Go.” he tells them, not leaving from where he stands. He waits until Finnick and Thyme are clearly inside before turning to you, “I remember being told that Laurel issued a warning about fighting.”

“Yeah, I was there for it,” you say, “But I didn’t hit him, so it doesn’t count.”

“Shoving counts.” Damon says, “Don’t do it again.”

“Sure.” you say, “Sorry.”

You turn and leave before he tries to talk to you anymore. You’re already testing his patience by being short with him. You head straight into the darkness, nails digging into your palms. The walk to the training room isn’t as serene as you originally wanted it to be. With every step you take, you can only find more reason to be angry.

There’s so many things you should’ve said to him.

By the time you get to the actual room, you’re only slightly calmed down. There’s no doubt that you just made things worse between you and Finnick. But to be fair, it’s no thanks to Trink. You don’t know whether or not to be angry at her. If she hadn’t asked the questions in the first place, then you’d still be on the road to recovery with Finnick.

It all conflicts with the fact that you wouldn’t have known what Finnick said if she hadn’t asked. You didn’t know he was talking about you like that. And sometimes it’s good to be underestimated, but here it’s not. It’s the simplest way for you to end up factionless.

Laurel and Caspian are already inside when you get there. They barely look up at first, too focused on what they’re hovering over. Laurel then suddenly raises her head, a murmur sounding from her. Caspian has to turn his body to see.

You give them a gentle wave.

“Don’t touch anything just yet.” he says, motioning you to stand somewhere.

Along the wall of the entrance sits tables with knives on them. All of them black, with identical blades and sizes. On the other side of the room are targets, much like the ones you’ve used to shoot guns. It looks like you get to try your hand at something new today.

It’s hard to be excited when there’s a hateful feeling in your stomach, telling you that Finnick will have no trouble keeping his streak. He’ll nail the middle of the target and then immediately turn to Thyme to gloat. You can’t help but to wonder if he genuinely thinks he’s winning in Dauntless right now, because you wouldn’t think so. Not when your best friend is halfway out of the door.

You pick a spot on the far side, shoving your hands into your pockets while you stare at the wood. If you strain hard enough to hear, you can listen in on what Laurel and Caspian are talking about. And it honestly sounds like they’re discussing the pairs for tomorrow’s fights. You thought they would have worked this all out this morning, but you guess you were wrong.

You have to win, no matter what. Or you will end up in last place. And instead of Ossie being cut, it will be you. You and Amos.

It’s funny, really. For a second, you really thought that you were on top of the world. You didn’t know just how quickly it would all fall back down. How you wouldn’t be able to catch everything--anything. It took a week to break all that you’ve worked towards your entire life.

You still have enough time to turn it around and end up on top. All you have to do is pass this first stage, and then you could blow everyone out of the water. You have the power to. You just have to apply yourself more.

A couple of minutes later, the others begin to arrive in their own groups. The first is Ossie and Amos, the next is your three new friends, and the last is Finnick and Thyme. This time, they’re the ones keeping their distance, placing themselves firmly on the other side of the room.

If Caspian has any questions rising, he doesn’t ask them. You do catch the quick look between you and Finnick, though. As if he’s trying to decipher it for himself. His eyes find yours again, and you give him a gentle head shake, letting him know that things are not what they are anymore. You wish it weren’t this complicated.

“Tomorrow is the final fight, and it will also be the last day of stage one.” Caspian says, he stands near the chalkboard, shouting across the room. His voice carries well, you don’t have to turn your head to hear him better.

“Today, you’ll be learning how to aim.” Laurel continues for him, “Pick up three knives, and pay attention. No one will be excused from tomorrow’s fighting, so try not to hurt yourselves.”

You all begin to wander over to the knives. You pick up the first one in your hands, and you can’t help but to notice just how light it is. It’s not as heavy as the one in your aptitude test, or the one back home in Abnegation. This is as light as a feather, easily movable. It reminds you of the knife you used to cut your hand during the Choosing Ceremony.

You pick up the other two, being careful not to cut your hands.

“I’ll demonstrate, so pay attention!” Laurel shouts.

Once you’re all back in your respective places, all eyes are on her. You have to move around a little to see better, and you can’t help but to curse yourself for choosing this end of the room. But then again, you didn’t want to invade on Caspian and Laurel’s privacy, clearly it was an important conversation.

Laurel is smooth and flawless with her throws. One after the other, each one hits the dead center of the target. Once all three knives are gone, she backs away from the target. You have to move again to see that she’s thrown her knives so that they make a triangle.

“Line up!” she yells, “And get to throwing! Caspian and I will observe.”

You remember the first time you shot the gun they gave you. It’s almost hard to believe that was only five days ago. At the rate things have been moving around you, it almost feels like a year.

Automatically, you find yourself readjusting your stance to mirror what Laurel had looked like. She had her dominant forward just a little more, body turned to the side to allow her dominant arm move free range. You extend and tense your arm a couple of times, getting a feel for the throw.

You have to remember to exhale when you let go.

And make sure not to think too much or you’ll hesitate.

You draw your arm back, knife handle in your hand. Your eyes land on the red circle in the middle of the wood. You hold your breath for a moment, pausing to readjust, and then you throw.

For a second, all you can hear is the sound of knives bouncing off the wall. No one has made it even close to their target. So why are you so sure that you’re going to be different?

Well, because you are.

The knife lodges in the red circle. It’s nowhere near perfect, since it’s off center and barely hanging on. But you are the first.

“Wow!” Trink lets out, “That’s luck!”

You prepare the second knife in your hand, drawing your arm back the same way, correcting for the middle. This time, when the knife hits the wooden board, you are much closer to the center. You’re too eager for the third knife, excitement bubbling up your throat and to your cheeks. An infectious smile fills your face when the third knife is in the center.

A hand slaps on your shoulder, “You’re a natural.” Caspian’s hand slips slightly as he moves around you to take a better look. He lets out a slight whistle.

Eytelle and Allio are nodding along, looking enthusiastic.

You can’t help yourself, though. You thank Caspian, but move to look at Finnick and Thyme, to watch them throw. You catch Finnick’s eyes for a brief second, clearly he was watching you. It’s your turn to take notes now.

You felt this exact same way when you first shot the handgun. To know that you were so close to the center circle, only for Finnick to best you. Finnick moves his hand, showing you that he still has all three knives in his hands. It’s an under-the-table move, not noticeable unless you’re paying close attention. Which means that Thyme completely misses it. The blades glint in the light.

He raises his arm, Thyme pauses what she’s doing to watch him. She’s already missed her first two knives. Finnick takes in a deep breath when he throws, and this is where he goes wrong. You’ll give him credit, because the knife hits the board. But it’s a corner, and clatters to the ground without sticking.

Finnick’s face twists, and when he turns to you--

You’ve already got both hands up, formed in an ‘X’.

Figuring that you’ve reached the point of no return yesterday, you went ahead and switched beds after dinner. Originally, you’d been sleeping over Finnick. Now you’re over Trink, since she’s the one that has an open bunk. You went to bed before you got a chance to see Finnick’s reaction, but you can tell by the way he’s acting this morning, that he’s upset.

He’s normally chatty in the morning, whether it had been with you, or Thyme. But no matter how many times Thyme tries to start a conversation with him, he only lets out one word answers. Which is a telltale sign that Finnick is not as okay as he’s been projecting. Another reason why Thyme doesn’t fit the space, she thinks about herself first and not the people around her.

Abnegation-raised children have been taught to focus on others before them. Like Candor, you begin to be able to pick out the little things from others reactions and body language. You might not be able to ask about it, but you’re supposed to notice it so that it’s easier to avoid the topic.

Thyme knows nothing about this, which means she doesn’t know when to leave things be instead of trying to fill the silence.

There’s a tight feeling of smugness in your chest. Finnick is going to be the one to apologize, not you. Not like you have a reason to, anyway. You already did and he ignored you, as if it hadn’t existed at all. You weren’t bluffing, it was a genuine apology.

You start out of the bathroom, fully dressed, shoes on, minty breath. All you have to do is wait for Trink to get ready, and then the four of you can head to the dining hall so you can watch and wait for them to eat. You already decided that you shouldn’t eat this morning. With the way everyone has been going at your stomach, it’s the only real choice you have. Unless you want to puke all over the floor, of course.

Trink’s in the middle of braiding her hair, talking to Eytelle. Allio is still in the bathroom, you saw him wander into the shower area just before he shut the curtain. He said that it should only take a couple of minutes. So, you suppose that you should correct yourself. You’re waiting on Allio, not Trink.

You start toward the girls, a question to start conversation already appearing on your tongue. But it all dies when someone appears in your path, tall and towering over you, like he always does. You press your lips together and look up at Finnick. And you can’t help but to think that this scene is all too familiar.

But the last time you checked, you moved out of the way.

“We should talk.” Finnick says, his voice is gentle, face smoothed over.

“Yeah?” you ask, eyebrows raising slightly.

You will not be the one apologizing this time.

He takes his time before speaking. Letting out a small breath, sucking in one between his teeth. He does this every single time, you know what to expect. He’ll start his sentence off with the apology, and then what he did wrong.

Finnick takes in a final breath, “I need you to hear me out.”

No.

No, this is wrong.

You stare at him, almost wanting to hold your breath.

This is the second time you’ve been wrong about Finnick would or wouldn’t do.

Finnick takes your silence as a good sign to keep talking, “When I said that to my team, I was still angry at you for blowing me off.”

Now you hold your breath, teeth settling in. He’s wrong, you didn’t blow him off. You apologized, you told him why you’ve been acting this way. It’s the other way around, he’s the one that confronted you and didn’t even listen. As if he didn’t care in the first place, and just wanted to find a way to get at you.

“I should have phrased what I said differently, though.” Finnick pauses for a moment, “Your turn.”

Your turn?

“That was not an apology,” are the first words to leave your mouth, eager, slick and pissed.

Finnick stares at you, like he’s thinking it over. It’s just five words, straight-forward all by itself. But then his lips press together, and his face begins to turn red, eyebrows turning downward. He’s acting like you’re in the wrong here. You’ve apologized, you’ve expressed your dislike for Thyme, so why does he keep on pushing it? What the fuck does he want from you?

“You are brave.” Finnick’s words are low.

He doesn’t scare you.

You know him in and out.

You know his darkest secrets.

How is he going to scare you?

“I’m the brave one?” you ask him slowly, “Last time I checked, I already fucking apologized. You were the one that didn’t listen. You were the one that brushed me off. Don’t come to me acting like the victim.

“Not to mention, Finnick,” you spit his name, “You didn’t even say that you regret what you said to your team. You said that you would rephrase it. It’s a fucking excuse, and I don’t do excuses. You owe me an apology.”

“For what?” he asks.

You explode, voice loud, “What the fuck do you mean ‘for what’?” you’re shaking your head, “I just fucking told you! Do you want another reason, then? You’ve been treating Thyme, over there, like your fucking best friend as if I’m not here. She’s the devil on your shoulder, Finnick. Won’t you open your eyes?”

Finnick shoves you back, you catch your footing in time to make it look natural. You don’t see this as a good sign, though. He’s angry, “Don’t talk about her like that.”

“Why not? Don’t like facing the truth--?”

“Because she’s my fucking friend, (Y/n)!” Finnick shouts back, “You called her a bitch and you don’t have a shred of sympathy!”

He gestures over his shoulder, straight at Thyme. She’s sitting on her bed, looking like she’s enjoying herself, watching the two of you go at each other like this. You watch as she fakes a pout, bites her lip, and then turns her head away. Her shoulders shake, pretending to cry. But her giggle is unmistakable.

It takes everything in you not to lunge at her.

The oven controlling your body is only getting hotter. You can feel your fingernails digging into the skin on your palm. Your eyes flash to Finnick, “Why should I? She’s not my fucking friend, she’s yours!”

You move forward, “And I know this might be shocking to you, but I’m your friend. I’ve been your best friend for years! So why are you so hellbent on keeping her, and not me? Aren’t I more valuable than this?”

Finnick stares, no response coming from him.

Your jaw sets, “During the Choosing Ceremony, before I came to Dauntless, I thought it would be an even trade. To take you, and leave my family behind. Clearly, I was fucking wrong.”

The anger washes away from his face, his mouth opening. You can see his hand raising to grab onto you.

You jerk away, “Don’t worry Finnick, this is all fine to me.” you give him a sneer, “Just don’t forget that I know all of your secrets. And there’s nothing stopping me from using them anymore.”

Finnick doesn’t say anything, hand frozen out to grab you.

“It’s time to go to the training room.” Trink’s voice cuts the silence that deafens the room.

No one moves from where they are. Not even Ossie and Amos left early to get breakfast. They’re still near the door, hand poised on the handle, like they had been expecting the fight to only last a couple of seconds. Or for the two of you to kiss and make up and let this all be over and in the past.

You’re the first to straighten.

“Okay,” you say, still staring at Finnick, “Let’s go then.”

Ossie and Amos scoot out of the door first. Trink holds it open for you, before letting Allio take it next. She keeps to your side, glancing at your face every now and then like she expects it to change. But there’s an unmistakable anger that’s bubbling in your stomach and popping in your chest. Like lava.

She’s wise enough not to say anything.

You all arrive late to the training room. Caspian has his arms crossed over his chest, staring at the door when you walk in. He doesn’t look happy at all, and neither does Laurel. You’re guessing it’s because Mags is standing right there, hands behind her back, assessing each and every one of you as you enter.

“Where’s Finnick and Thyme?” Caspian barks.

“Oh, they’re coming.” you snarl.

Caspian’s eyes linger on you, but you’re more focused on the board behind him. To see who’s fighting who. They’re standing directly in it, purposefully blocking your view. You hope it’s Thyme. You hope it’s Thyme. You hope it’s Thyme.

You hope it’s Thyme.

After a few more beats of silence, the door to the training room opens.

Caspian tilts his head slightly, like he’s unsure what to make of today’s newfound tension.

But then he moves out of the way.

And there’s an explosion of pleasurable bliss that fills your body.

You will not be fighting Thyme.

You will be fighting the man himself.

You grin, head turning to see Finnick’s reaction. He’s stoic, staring ahead at the board, not entertaining you. It’s fine, Finnick. You already know what you need to. You saw him reach out. You saw the look of remorse. Everyone did. There’s no point in being so guarded now.

The chalkboard reads:

You and Finnick.

Trink and Thyme.

Allio and Amos.

Eytelle and Ossie.

“Oh, she’s going to get her ass demolished.” Trink cracks her knuckles.

“(Y/n) and Finnick.” Caspian calls, watching.

“Good luck.” Trink says, Eytelle and Allio echo her.

You resist the urge to skip to the circle.

When you get there, you crack and stretch every place you can think of, letting Finnick take his time. In the meantime, you go over every single detail that you’ve logged over the years and the past couple of days. Finnick has only been hit twice, both in places that are insignificant. You shouldn’t spend your time focusing on them.

You need to watch the way he moves, and predict his hits before he makes them. If you stay ahead of the game, then Finnick will have no opportunity to get at you. And if he does, it’ll be minor chances that won’t have a single affect on you.

You will come out as the winner of this fight.

Even if that means to put the remainder of your friendship on the line.

You roll your ankles in front of you, stretch your shoulders back and forth. You can feel every little ache in your body. Unfortunately, you’re going to be defensive in some areas, even if you don’t want to be. You were smart to give up during Ossie’s fight when you did. Otherwise you’d be hurting so much worse right now.

There’s a few things that Finnick’s going to want out of this fight. The first is a quick and easy win. He wins this, he keeps his perfect streak of no losses and no major injuries. He gets to impress Mags, and the fight won’t be dragged on for longer than a couple of minutes.

So you need to do the exact opposite.

You’re the first to raise your fists, he follows suit. You can’t help but to smile, “What’s the matter, Finnick? You’re looking a little blue.” his face hardens, “Something happen?”

He moves forward, “Shut up.”

You don’t move, standing your ground, “Sounds like you’re a little scared. Am I suddenly threatening to you?”

His arm twitches, you jump back, out of the way completely just to be safe. You’re not sure if he’s going to pull an Allio and swing at you with his non-dominant hand. You’ve already made that mistake, so it won’t be happening again.

“A little unpredictable?”

If Finnick is twitching, you’ve broken the mask. Finnick is supposed to have smooth movements. He’s always had smooth movements.

“Stop fucking with him and fight.” Caspian barks.

You ignore him. You have a plan, and antagonizing Finnick is on the list. You need him to stay angry, so that his actions aren’t hidden. It’s almost like what Ossie did to Allio on the first day, except you’re being verbal. It’s easier to get under Finnick’s skin this way. You need to stay one step ahead of him.

You move toward Finnick now, remembering the way that he had started all three of his fights. You need to find a way to get Finnick down. As long as he’s standing, he has an advantage on you. There’s no way you’re going to get a good hit on his face, he’ll be able to catch your arm before you’re even close.

Maybe if you get his guard down?

You’re prepared for Finnick’s swing, he likes to take the first hit, usually. You manage to lean out of the way before driving your fist into his stomach, backing off immediately after. His face is a shade of red, slightly twisted in pain. Unlike Allio, Finnick doesn’t absorb hits as well. He’s not used to being hit.

Finnick comes closer, crossing the circle straight instead of slowly shuffling to get to you. You don’t move at first, still trying to stay with the ‘keep your ground’ strategy. But the closer he draws, the more you realize that you can’t escape this. You can’t come up with a plan and stall. You need to give Mags something to make you stick out.

You head towards him too. Finnick is not the only initiate in this room who can match energy.

You jerk to the side, watching as Finnick immediately goes to correct his path so that you’re in his line of sight. You wonder if Finnick really has a need to show off and drag this fight out for Mags. He rarely switches up routine, so you’d like to say that he doesn’t. It’s the whole reason why he can be terrifying sometimes.

Everyone knows how he likes his matches by now, which is probably why Finnick has been put to fight first after the first fight. Because his is the quickest and easiest, you know what to expect to happen and how it’ll end. You can see why people would be afraid of him for this reason. If something isn’t broken, why replace it? Finnick has won all his matches in three punches or less, why try to change that?

It’s more impressive to get someone down without severely injuring them anyway, right? It’s like a demonstration of raw power. And with you being on the opposite end of the spectrum… it’s like you always have something to prove.

You can feel your face drop, eyebrows drawing in.

No, everyone in Dauntless has something to prove. If you don’t, then there’s no point in being here. If you’re not proving that you’re strong, or brave, or--for fuck’s sake--threatening, you won’t be considered an equal. And if there’s anything, anyone ever wants, it’s to be an equal or above.

This brings you to another infuriating realization. Finnick does not see you as his equal.

Without a single thought going into the move, your fist flies across Finnick’s cheek. His head turns, eyes widening. You duck, he misses, you’re back on your feet in time to slam your shoe into his ribs. When you move forward again to keep the rhythm, Finnick backs up, eyes darting across your body.

You fix your hands before he decides that’s a good place to target. You need to make sure he stays away from your nose and stomach. Everything else on your body is free reign, you could give less of a shit. But if you break your nose again, you’re not sure you’ll be able to stop the blood flow this time.

Finnick presses his hand to his ribs for a moment, his hand looks shaky. He stops backing up, now that he’s assessed the damage to his ribs and completely ignored his face. It’s a shame too, Finnick’s always been cute.

He moves towards you, you try not to back up too much. You still need a way to get him down without aiming at his face. You got lucky with the face shot, it will not happen again. Like you, Finnick tends to be more careful with spots that were just hit. If you want to try again, you’d have to find another way to wind up to get there.

Then again, you didn’t even think about it. One second you were standing there, and the next your knuckles were throbbing.

You bounce from side to side, watching him. You just barely catch the way he leans forward, throwing all of his weight into his punch. You twist your head to the side, which changes Finnick’s course of punching your nose, to your jaw instead. You recover better this way, ignoring the complaints from the nerves in your teeth.

Without much of a choice, you punch Finnick’s stomach, using the weight idea that he had originally used. The silence in the room is temporarily disturbed when he gasps, trying to suck in air to replace what you’ve stolen. You squeeze your fist tighter, bringing your arm back to do it again.

Finnick’s hand envelopes your fist, catching it before you land the hit. It isn’t until he’s twisting your arm, do you realize what he’s about to do. It’s the exact same thing he did with Eytelle. Trap her, twist her arm, two punches and she was out like a light.

You need out, right now.

You yank, ignoring the pain in your wrist. Finnick’s raising his arm, face stoic and staring into your eyes. You need to break the mask. You saw his face when you told him what happened at the Choosing Ceremony. You need to do something like that again.

You grab his wrist with your other hand, not pulling away as prominently now. You let tears flood your eyes, “Don’t, please.”

At the softness of your voice, Finnick’s arm isn’t as tensed, his face matching the emotion you’re giving him. He still plans on punching you, just not as hard. Which is good enough for you. He’s fallen for it.

Your left hand hits his chest, full-force, dead-on. He loosens his grip, but not enough for you to regain your right hand. You twist your arm until your wrist is grabbing his, before kicking his legs from underneath him.

He pulls you down with him, making you land on top. The two of you scramble to get the upper hand, but it’s easier for you. You place your hips on top of his, struggling to get your wrist free. He’s got a lock of iron, and no matter how much twisting you do, he doesn’t budge.

You lean forward for a moment, slamming your right foot on top of his wrist, keeping it from moving. This means that you have limited mobility, though. And he’s still got full use of his right hand.

Finnick knows this, his arm is already raising. All he has to do is turn his upper body and he’ll be able to hit your face. You could try to catch his wrist, but he’s got enough force to plow through whatever you’ll be able to do.

You still have access to your left foot.

Right as Finnick unwinds, you slam your foot across his jaw. You can hear his teeth snap against each other, head hitting the wooden floor. He finally releases your wrist though, which is enough for you. His hands cup his face, but it won’t last long.

The first punch is to his chest, making his body cave in temporarily. The next is to his nose, blood running down the side of his face and pooling on the floor. You aim for his nose again, and this time you’re filled with a fluttery pleasurable feeling, hearing the snap fill the air.

A pain explodes across your mouth, bringing tears to your eyes. You back off of Finnick for a moment, allowing him to shove you off of his body. You scoot back, not wanting to close your mouth. But you can’t help it anymore, gritting your teeth to combat the pain. You taste metal immediately.

And see red right after.

You lunge for Finnick, who’s trying to get on his feet. He’s moving slower than usual, which is probably because he’s rubbing the blood from his mouth to avoid the problem you’re currently facing. He doesn’t see you coming. Your body collides with his again, fist raised and slamming against his mouth this time.

Let’s see if he likes how it feels.

The two of you end up in the same position as last time, only he’s twisted at an uncomfortable angle, and you’re straddling his hip. You can’t help yourself, aiming for his cheekbone. The more injuries reside on his face, the more proof it is that you beat Finnick. The more the lesson sinks in.

You are just as good as he is. And he was stupid to think otherwise.

This is his punishment.

The tunnel vision begins as soon as you start a pattern. Each time you blink, his face gets worse. First his nose, then his swollen lips, then the red splotches across his cheekbone. Your knuckles catch his jaw, slamming his head into the ground harder. The more you lean forward, the more leverage you begin to have.

And Finnick is pushing, blocking his face while he tries to find an opening. But it’s hard to block his entire face with just a forearm. You should know, because it’s one of the flaws that he couldn’t pick at.

One hit after the other, your hands begin to coat red. Your knuckles begin to ache, arms becoming sore, too much protest because of how much force you’re using. You can’t help it, there’s no other way to keep him down. Any other place, and he would just get up again.

Your hand raises for his eye, and you get halfway through the move before there’s a pair of hands grabbing your arms, yanking you off of Finnick. You struggle for a moment, but the hands are gone as quickly as they came. The person throws you away from your former friend, and moves in.

It’s Laurel, hovering over him like she doesn’t know where to begin.

There’s throbbing in your temples, a headache beginning to form. You wonder why the room is so quiet at first, then you realize that there’s an intense ringing in your ears, taking it’s time to fade out. By the time you regain your hearing, Laurel is saying something about calling the doctor, Cleo, and having her bring an extra pair of hands to wheel Finnick out.

You can feel a dripping sensation beneath your nose. You reach up to touch the area, and come back with red. You don’t remember your nose getting hit, and you can’t tell if this is your blood or Finnick’s.

“Please.” a whisper fills the room.

Your eyes land on Finnick, who’s nothing but a mess of blood and tears. Did he call the end of the fight? You don’t remember hearing that either. In fact, you don’t think you remember anything. Only the feeling of skin-on-skin contact, over and over and over...

Laurel gently tells him that the fight is over, before she looks over her shoulder at you.

You think you can see disappointment. Or maybe it’s anger.

All you know is that you struggle to stand on your own two legs, smearing blood on the floor. You can feel your legs tremble beneath you. Your hands are the same way, not staying in the same place for longer than half a second, coated in red. Your palms, really, are the only safe place that isn’t touched by Finnick’s blood. You can feel droplets running down the back of your arms.

“Holy shit, (Y/n),”

You look over to see Caspian, drained of color. He’s surprised, why? Did he not see the way you fought Allio? Or does that not compare? Mags doesn’t look the same way, she just stares. You don’t know what to say to either of them, so you don’t. You slowly back out of the white circle.

And then the words come to mind, “I couldn’t lose,” it’s quiet, but loud enough for everyone to hear, “And he needed to.”

You’re not sure if needed is the word, you guess it doesn't really matter.

You won, Finnick lost.

And neither of you can come back from this.

Not anymore.

ANTERIC IS A SPIN-OFF DIVERGENT AU //MASTERLIST//

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fiddlepickdouglas · 4 years ago

Text

Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 9 - A Case

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, is it a lead?, 2k

@trevor-wilson-covington is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Late the next morning, the guys stood with Julie’s family at the airport. Alex couldn’t believe that weeks of jamming together, writing music together, goofing around while Ray was filming, and dinners cooked by Julie’s aunt Victoria had all passed so quickly.

“It’s only another two months,” Julie was muttering to Luke, her eyes looking up into his with a special gentleness. Her hands gripped the top handle of her backpack with white knuckles.

“You’re gonna kill it out there,” Luke encouraged. The softness he applied was so different from what Alex usually saw, and he wasn’t looking forward to how miserable Luke was about to get in her absence. A painful thought told him it was probably similar to how he was at the moment, no matter how much he wanted to deny it. Having someone else reflect that wasn’t as nice as he thought it would be.

“Okay, kiddos, let’s get a photo!” Julie’s aunt was saying, shepherding them all together.

“Your mother asked me to take more pictures, so I’m taking all the pictures I can, sobrina,” Victoria came back.

“Tía,” Julie protested, rolling her eyes but smiling anyway.

Getting in formation, Alex positioned himself in the back by default, resting his arms on the shoulders of his bandmates while Julie, Flynn, and Carlos huddled together in front. After being uncomfortably squished into Reggie for a few seconds, he got blinded momentarily with the flash and was pretty sure he’d blinked. Then again, he was sure Bobby had been giving Reggie bunny ears, Luke was off balance, and Carlos had pulled a face, so it was likely that Flynn and Julie were the only ones who looked good in the photo.

“Ay, dios,” Victoria said afterward. “Your mamá is at least going to laugh a lot when she sees these.”

“I don’t know about the rest of y’all,” Flynn said, flipping her braids over her shoulder. “But I look amazing.”

Everyone chuckled and Ray picked up his carry-on.

“Alright, one last hug for everyone and then we’ve gotta board,” he said, pulling Carlos into his side. “You be good for your tía, alright?”

“Promise!” Carlos nodded with his typical grin.

Julie was already squished by Flynn and all the guys at once.

“Okay, before I get hugged to death,” she teased. They all let go of her. “I’ll miss you guys.”

“We’ll keep in touch, though, right?” Luke asked, his eyes wells of hope.

Julie looked up at him and smiled demurely.

“If you had a phone I could reach you with, then of course,” she told him.

“Yeah,” Luke muttered, pulling a Sharpie out of his back pocket. Alex smirked at seeing him be so prepared. Luke grabbed Julie’s hand and scribbled out a number, both chuckling lightly the whole time at how over the top he was being. “There, you’ve got my number.”

“Great,” Julie said with mixed awkwardness and amusement. “I’ll try not to wash my hands before I give you a call.” With that, she shouldered her bag and waved at them before joining Ray on the plane.

Bobby wrapped an arm around Luke’s shoulders and pivoted him so they could walk out of the terminal. Flynn and Victoria followed behind them while Carlos began running ahead of the boys.

“Don’t go too far, Carlos,” Victoria warned. “We don’t want to lose you.”

“You could still find me if you wanted!” he taunted, even though he made sure he remained in sight.

“He’s right,” Flynn smirked.

“Doesn’t matter,” Victoria said. “I’m taking a break while my sister needs support.”

Alex’s interest piqued at what he overheard.

“Wait, what do you mean?” he asked, pulling back from the rest of the group.

“I mean I’m putting my job on hold to help take care of my sister,” Victoria said, slightly confused at his question.

“Yeah, but what was your job?” he insisted, trying not to sound too intense about it.

“Oh,” she laughed. “I was on a team of investigators. We worked on missing person cases, mostly. But I’m taking a sabbatical.”

A mesh of things rushed into Alex’s mind and he wasn’t sure if he dared say them out loud. He had that strange feeling again, like he’d had when he first met Willie in the diner. That exhilaration.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Victoria told him casually. “If you’re wondering about Luke, his case is through a completely different department, and I can’t do anything for or against him.”

“No, it isn’t,” he started. “What if there was evidence of a really old case? What would it take to pick it back up?”

She blinked at him.

“Well, if it’s a strong enough lead, then it would be worth looking into,” she said. “Why, do you think you know something?”

“No,” he said finally. “Well, it’s probably nothing, just a funny coincidence.”

Reggie’s words from last night echoed: sometimes a kid is just a random kid. Other arguments surfaced. There hadn’t been anything to tip him off that Willie had gone missing as a kid, it was just a poster with the same first name. Why did he get so excited about it? He gripped the strap on his fanny pack.

Victoria looked at him with mild concern.

“Okay,” she said. “Like what?”

Looking at the guys, Carlos, and Flynn in the distance, Alex breathed in nervously.

“I actually saw a poster for someone, and usually I don’t pay attention, but it matched the description of someone that I met a few weeks ago.”

“You mean, when you were in Las Vegas?”

He nodded.

“I would have to see the whole case, and reopening old ones takes a little more work. But if you truly think you know something, Alex, this is a very serious matter and I would need as much information as you could give.” She looked at him firmly.

Alex was caught on all the thoughts swirling in his mind as they entered the parking garage. He felt himself begin shaking. Maybe he was jumping the gun?

“Well, like you said, you’re taking a sabbatical. And I’m still thinking it’s a coincidence, so, I’d hate to take your focus away from Rose.”

Victoria smiled politely, although her eyes didn’t reflect it.

“Well, I appreciate that,” she told him as she made towards where Carlos and Flynn were already waiting at her car. “If you change your mind, just let me know.”

A car horn from somewhere else was heard and Alex saw the guys all waving at him to join them in the van. Taking in a deep breath, he nodded to Victoria and ran over to join his bandmates.

“Dude, what are you doing talking to Julie’s aunt?” Luke wondered.

“Nothing,” Alex responded. “She just has a cool job and I wanted to know about it.”

“You know who else has a cool job, Alex?” Luke asked. “We do. We have the coolest job. Don’t get distracted.”

Alex buckled himself in as Bobby pulled out of the garage.

“I’m not, I swear!”

Reggie just patted him on the back with his goofy smile. Alex rolled his eyes, knowing the guys meant well. He could feel that all of them were trying to be normal around him, so he couldn’t blame them for their efforts. He knew he hadn’t been as easy to deal with lately. It wasn’t anything major, but something had gotten him acting more closed off from them, and he was balancing letting the guys be aware of it and trying not to burden them with it at the same time. Maybe that’s why he wanted to connect Willie to the missing kid. It probably had made him think he could get closure after everything that had happened on the trip. He didn’t want to accept the saying ‘what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.’

He couldn’t focus on that now, though. They had a few small gigs lined up and needed to get practicing. Opening for Julie had broadened their fanbase a little and things were going to change. Alex already didn’t handle change well. If he remained focused on something else, it was only going to make matters worse.

Later that night, they were just wrapping up practice in the garage. Bobby had popped a string on his guitar and ran into the house to grab a replacement.

“Alex, you were killing it, man!” Reggie was saying.

“Nah, I was just keeping it steady,” Alex shrugged.

“Seriously!” Reggie insisted. “You’re like the Energizer bunny! You know, always in pink, keeps us going, banging the drums - ”

“You should never make that comparison again,” Alex said, holding a hand up. “But alright, I was smoking, I’ll admit it.”

“Yeah,” Luke joined in. “Keep playing like that and you’ll be the next Neil Peart.”

Bobby reentered the garage.

“Hey, Alex,” he said. “You’ve got a phone call.”

All the guys, including Alex, looked confused.

“Okay...guess I’ll go get that,” he said, heading into Bobby’s house.

Finding the phone attached to the wall outside the kitchen, Alex picked up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Alex, it’s Victoria, Julie’s aunt,” he heard on the other line.

“Hi,” he answered, even more confused than before. “How did you know I would be here?”

“The number your friend gave my niece. She said that’s where you kids like to practice. I guess I called at the right time!”

He simply nodded in response, even though she couldn’t see it.

“Anyway, I wanted to know more about this person you saw.”

“Oh, okay.” He tried to remember as many details as he could while he gave them to her. He was pretty sure he could even remember the address for the hotel. Victoria just said ‘mmhmm’ in between everything, like she was writing it all down. It got Alex sort of excited, even though he remained bewildered that she was asking him for all of this information.

“Okay,” Victoria sighed after a few minutes. “I need to ask a favor of you boys.”

“Yeah, anything,” Alex said.

“Look after Carlos for a couple days? I can pay each of you.”

“Uh,” he blinked in surprise. “Yeah, cool, we can do that.”

“Perfect! And Alex, muchas gracias.”

“It’s nothing,” he said, glad to recognize at least one phrase in Spanish. “Thanks for calling.”

“No problem, kiddo. Ba-bye.” She hung up before him.

Alex slowly put the receiver back in place as he stood there processing. What had he just involved himself in? Julie’s aunt hadn’t exactly explained why she suddenly wanted to know everything about Willie. As he went back into the garage, he tried to calm his nerves.

“Well, who was it?” Luke asked as they all sat around waiting.

“Julie’s aunt,” Alex told them. “She wants us to watch Carlos for a couple of days.”

“Aw, yeah!” Reggie exclaimed, pumping his fists excitedly.

“Why didn’t she just tell me, then?” Bobby wondered.

“Because she wanted to finish the conversation that you guys so rudely interrupted before,” Alex said, only half-joking.

Luke and Bobby shared a puzzled look, but let it slide.

“Did you tell her we have a gig in a couple days?” Luke asked.

Alex’s eyes widened.

“Oh, no, I forgot,” he said.

“He can just be our VIP,” Reggie stated, clearly unbothered about it.

“That works,” Alex said, gesturing to Reggie.

A cold realization hit him and he clenched his fist. He’d forgotten to mention more than their gig to Victoria: he also hadn’t told her about Willie’s amnesia.

Victoria looked down at the picture in her hand. It was familiar, since she had worked on that case when it first opened. One of the few that had gone unsolved in her department for a long time. She sincerely hoped she wasn’t about to make a mistake.

“So, where are you going?” Carlos asked as he chewed a mouthful of fries. They were sitting beside the wall of posters on the pier.

“I’m just checking on something,” she said vaguely. “If you want, I can bring back something for you.”

“A million dollars?”

She chuckled. “Unfortunately, I don’t think so.”

“Are you gonna be solving a case?” he queried.

Looking at the picture again, Victoria sighed and gave him a sympathetic smile. She knew he would want to help.

“I’m not sure, bendición,” she said. “But maybe.”

Checking the address she had written down and the map once again, Victoria stepped out of her car and into the hotel lobby. No one was at the front desk, so she rang the bell on the counter. A young man with dark curly hair appeared.

“Welcome to the Desert Oasis, how can I assist you?” he said cooly, and she recognized his Brazilian accent.

“Hi, I made a call this morning for a reservation? For a Victoria Mo- ”

“Ah, yes, I remember your call,” he interrupted. He looked up the room in his records and pulled out a key. “Your room will be on the second floor and then all the way down the hall to your right. Have a wonderful stay.”

“Thank you,” she said, taking the key, grabbing her one bag and heading up as fast as she could.

Hermana mía, por favor me perdones, she prayed silently in the elevator. If she was going to solve one case while she was supposed to be on sabbatical, it would be this one. She remembered searching high and low for this boy eight years ago and the devastation then. Rose would surely understand this, right? Victoria knew that if their positions were swapped, Rose wouldn’t be able to help doing something similar to help the people around her. It was just a family trait, she figured.

Getting situated inside the room, she pulled out the poster she’d pulled off the wall from the pier at Santa Monica and laid it on the table. Alex had called him Willie. She hoped they were the same.

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imnotoverlyobsessive · 4 years ago

Text

Mabel’s All-in-One Guide to Being a Shooting Star: How to Avoid Being Caught and Other Tips You Should Know

Chapter Three: Not Dipper

A big ol thank you to @edward-or-ford and @pacific-ship!

He’s so tall and handsome as hell; he’s so bad but he does it so well. I can see the end as it begins.- Taylor Swift, Wildest Dreams

Warmth.

Warmth and safety.

Those were the first things Mabel noticed when she woke up for those few brief seconds, the first things she could recall feeling. She was too tired to open her eyes, and her head was freaking killing her, but there was warmth seeping into her skin like melted butter into bread, and something smelled remarkably good.

It wasn’t a familiar smell, not by any means, but she found she liked it quite a lot. She turned her face towards the warm, smooth fabric the scent was coming from, nuzzling it happily with a small smile.

It didn’t help her killer headache, of course, but her bed or whatever it was, it smelled goooooood, and she was all for it.

She felt as if nothing could touch her, there in that little bubble of delicious-smelling warmth, and she wondered idly if Dipper was around, because she only ever felt so happy and safe when she was with him.

When had she seen him last, again? Mabel couldn’t remember. She couldn’t remember anything, really.

Oh well. Whatever. She was warm. She was safe. She was comfortable. She was happy. She smiled again, just a little bit, as her thoughts faded when she lost consciousness again.

She would not be so content when she woke the second time.

———————————————————————

There was a throbbing in her skull. An intense kind, particularly in her temples and behind her eyes. It hurt worse when she opened her eyes, and it took them several rapid blinks to adjust to lights that were actually quite dim, but with her concussion headache, they seemed ridiculously bright against the blue ceiling.

“Yeesh,” she muttered, sitting up on the… was that a chaise? Yup, okay, that was definitely a chaise. She’d never even seen one in person; those things were for fancy people. Mabel had always been many things, but fancy most certainly wasn’t one of them.

Anyway, she was sitting up on the super-duper fancy chaise, her hands supporting her. “My head, what in the…” Dammit, her wrists and arms hurt, too, those were, ugh, were those rope marks? They sure looked like rope marks.

There was a sound nearby when she spoke loud enough to be heard, but Mabel’s head was throbbing so loudly in her ears that she couldn’t hear much of anything. She massaged the skin on her wrists, trying to get the soreness to dissipate. It didn’t.

And then the whole thing came rushing back.

Shit. Was she married to the gnomes now? Was that gonna be her life? No, no, it was fine, gnome marriage wasn’t legally binding, she didn’t think, and even if it was, it wasn’t legal for somebody to marry a whole bunch of people at once, and it definitely wasn’t legal for that somebody to be an unwilling participant. Therefore, any marriage contracts they may or may not have drawn up were null and void, legally speaking. Which meant she needed to escape. Which meant she needed to figure out where she was.

Wait, what about the blood-gnome? What was up with that? Or, shit, the floating glow-dude! What the heckity hecking heckfire was going on with that shiz?

Suddenly, out of nowhere (or perhaps not truly nowhere; she just hadn’t examined where she was just yet, as she hadn’t looked up), a pair of arms wrapped around her, and her head was squished against a very masculine, yummy-smelling (the same smell as before, actually! What a lovely coincidence!) chest. Mr. Hugglebus reached up and threaded his fingers through Mabel’s hair, holding her head against him.

“Mabel,” a voice whispered, like its owner couldn’t believe he was getting to say her name. It was familiar, but also very much not, and Mabel was, like, off-the-charts levels of confuzzled. “Mabel,” the voice said again. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

It was hard to think with the pounding in her ears, but she did her best to ignore it.

She had bigger things to deal with than a headache, no matter how nasty it was.

“Wh- whoa there, friend,” Mabel said shakily, putting her hand on his chest and pushing away from him lightly. Mr. Hugglebus pulled back enough for Mabel to get a proper look at him, and…

Wait.

What?

“Dipper?” she gasped. He said nothing. “What is up with your hair, man?” she laughed. “Or- or your getup, like! What? You goin’ to a fancy party or something? No, no, wait!” she was giggling, and it hurt her head, but it was just so goddamn good to see him she didn’t care. “Okay okay, I know! You’re doing, like, a knock-off impersonation of Gideon, right?” He furrowed his brow, annoyance filling his ice blue eyes.

But… wait. Ice blue eyes? Dipper has brown eyes. They were identical to hers. She knew this. She’d stared into those stupid-beautiful eyes of his a bazillion and one times. She knew her bro bro’s eyes, aight? She knew those suckers. This guy, though. This guy was different. Like. Different different.

“Are you… are you Dipper? ‘Cause like. The Dipster I know won’t even wear color contacts for cosplay purposes, and those eyes ain’t blue naturally, so…”

It was several moments before he finally spoke. He was gazing at her with this weirdly intense look in his eyes (holy crap, those eyes, they were so pretty, nobody’s eyes should be allowed to be that freakin’ blue) she’d never seen on anyone before.

“I’m not… your Dipper,” his emphasis the ‘your’ was strange, condescending, as if he loathed saying it.

She scooted away, her back hitting the arm of the chaise.

All she could think about was a gnome drenched in blood, babbling in terror before exploding violently.

”Then who are you?” she whispered, eyes wide.

He smiled, and not unkindly, either. It was… strange. It was a kind smile from someone who didn’t look like such things came to them naturally. It was nothing like her twin’s smile.

Nothing like it at all.

It did something to her insides. Something she didn’t understand. Something she didn’t know how to interpret or name.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured, keeping his distance, his legs twitching as if he wanted to get closer to her. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Okay,” she said, not believing him in the slightest. ‘Cause. Like. The blood-gnome. Had that been him? Had he done that? She hadn’t seen it, but in retrospect, it totally made sense for him to have done that somehow. “But who are you?” she asked again.

“I’m something of an… alternate version of the Dipper you know.” The more he spoke, the more she found his voice to be different and strange. Plus, he looked so similar to Dipper, but Mabel only ever saw her bro’s birthmark once in a blue moon. This guy had it front and center, and his hair was slicked back, and she lowkey wanted to touch it, just to see what it felt like. His voice was deeper than Dipper’s. More monotone, too. It was bizarre.

It was… it was attractive, is what it was. His look and attitude, the whole shebang, it was just insanely attractive. Wait, no, no! Mabel thought to herself. It’s cool, Mabel girl, you’re all good, everything’s a-okay, it’s just that he looks like your bro, alright? No big deal. Well, okay, you shouldn’t be having those kinds of thoughts about your bro, either, but we’re well past that.

“Alternate… version…?” Wait. Shit. Maybe he was… “Are you the anti-Dipper?” She whispered frantically, trying to back away more as if her back wasn’t already firmly pressed against the armrest. “There’s tons of different versions of me, I know that, but I’ve never seen another version of Dipper, and you look just freakin’ like him except for your whole… style and general demeanor, I guess, so-“ she was trying to get up, but holy hot pockets, that was some serious dizziness right there.

Moreover, was there another Mabel in this universe? She hadn’t seen another Mabel in years. It’d be… interesting to see one again. Wait, shit, if he was the anti-Dipper, there was the anti-Mabel somewhere around there, and Mabel was not at all confident she could currently best the anti-Mabel in a fight. And something told her the anti-Mabel wasn’t exactly one for fighting fair and waiting till she was ready. She wasn’t the meme-worth Inigo Montoya, and this wasn’t The Princess Bride.

Dammit.

Wait, he’d said he’d never expected to see her again. And she’d definitely never met him before, she would’ve remembered a fancy, older version of her bro, which could only mean he was talking about the other Mabel. Had something happened to her? Had she left, maybe?

“I’m not,” he cut in quickly, moving towards her slowly, like she was a feral cat ready to book it at any moment. “I’m not the… anti-Dipper, or whatever it was you said.”

She looked around. They appeared to be in some sort of dressing room. No, wait, it was Gideon’s dressing room! Except it wasn’t, because Not-Dipper was there, lounging on the ultra-fancy chaise as if he owned it, which he might very well have done, because Not-Dipper didn’t exactly look like he was a broke college student.

He looked like he used hundred dollar bills as tissues like Woody Harrelson in Zombieland.

Still very much fighting the urge to attempt to GTFO, as the kids say, Mabel turned back to him. “What are you, then?” He blinked for a moment, as if he were surprised, and then she belted out more questions. “What’s your name? How old are you? You don’t look like you’re the same age as me, which is weird if we’re kinda-sorta-pseudo-twins. Why am I here? Where even is here? How-“

“Okay, let’s do this properly, shall we?” He tilted his head when he spoke, the corners of his lips curling upwards in another one of those strange smiles that did something to Mabel’s insides. “One question at a time,” he said, holding up a long, slender finger. “You can ask me anything you want, and I promise to answer truthfully. However,” he crossed one leg over the other, his foot dangling off his knee, the arm closest to her draping casually over the back of the chaise, “for every question I answer, I get to ask one of you in return. You don’t have to answer me, of course, but if you choose not to, that’ll be the end of our little game,” he paused for a moment. “For the time being, at least. Sound fair?”

She nodded hesitantly. She could stop at any time, right?

“Go ahead, then,” he waved the hand that dangled haphazardly over the chaise.

“What’s your name?”

“Mason William Gleeful, but I’ve always been called Dipper,” he said easily, as if he’d been fully expecting that very question.

“Because of the birthmark, I assume,” Mabel was very careful not to phrase it as a question, not to raise the pitch in her voice at the end of her sentence. She didn’t know how he’d react if she asked two questions in a row.

“A fair assumption,” he agreed with a slight nod and another one of those smiles. Ugh. Could ya not, man? Like, for real, Mabel thought. His smile was most definitely not helping her nausea. “And your name? Your full name, if you would.”

“Oh, um,” was she seriously forgetting her own name? Jeez, Mabel, get it together, he’s not Dipper, get over it! “M- Mabel Caroline Pines,” she managed to stutter out.

“Pines, hm? Interesting. Alright then. Shall I go along with your other questions from before, as well?”

She shook her head. “Actually, I was wondering about your last name,” he raised his eyebrows at her and motioned for her to continue. “There’s a sort of… psychic, I guess is what you’d call him, in my universe, and he has that last name. Is that… I mean… we are in what looks like his dressing room, so…”

“I did shows here,” he said quietly, a strange look in his eye, as if he wasn’t seeing her despite looking right at her. “Once upon a time.”

“Oh. I see,” she squeaked out.

His gaze sharpened on her again, and he was moving closer to her, and Mabel tried to back up further, her sneakers scrambling against the fabric of the chaise. Eeek way too close way too close back the fudge up, man, what are you even-

“Why were you in his dressing room?” He was right in front of her face by that point, like waaaaaaay too close, ‘cause their noses were almost brushing and she could see each individual eyelash, and god his eyes were even more startlingly beautiful up close, and she wanted to reach up and touch-

No no no no, bad, bad Mabel, he’s not your Dipper, this is a different version! she told herself firmly. No touchy!

“We gave each other makeovers,” she said, trying very hard to keep her voice even. When he raised his eyebrows at her, she got mildly defensive. “I was twelve! He was… I dunno, ten or eleven! Jeez!” He chuckled at that, then leaned away from her, satisfied with her answer, she supposed, and resumed his previous position as if he’d never moved from it at all.

As if he hadn’t just sent a chill down her spine that was… not altogether unpleasant, which was significantly more concerning than it would’ve been if she’d hated every second he’d been near her.

She pursed her lips and put it from her mind. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-five,” he said easily. “And you?”

“Nineteen,” she told him quietly, surprised at his age. She glanced at the foot he’d balanced on his knee.

His shoes were fancy, too. Everything about him seemed to be. “Not what you were expecting, I see,” he observed from her expressions. Damn her and her expressive face!

“Well, it makes sense, because you certainly look older than… than my Dipper.” Her voice shook on the word ‘my’.

His hand clenched into a fist.

She didn’t know what to think of it. Was he angry, or did it mean nothing?

“But it also doesn’t make sense, because if it’s a parallel universe, we should be the same age, I would think.”

“Well, not necessarily,” Not-Dipper reasoned. “In some universes, time moves at different rates, from what I’ve gathered. In our case, it’s the same, but it seems I was born earlier. I was born in 1993, whereas you were born in…” he thought for a moment, tilting his head to the side. “1999.”

“Oh.” She’d never noticed that when interacting with other Mabels. Perhaps it was simply because she was too preoccupied with not dying. It had seemed rather urgent at the time.

“Indeed,” he nodded. “So, your questions,” he reminded her after a few seconds of silence.

“Right.” What had they been again? He kept looking at her, she had to get him to stop doing that. It was distracting. His eyes were distracting. She couldn’t think when they were in her, dammit. Oh! That was it! “Where are we?”

“My universe. I found you with and brought you here through a portal,” he stuck a hand in his pocket. “If you meant the locale, however, as I said before, this was our-“ he cut himself off, took a breath. “My dressing room until several years ago, when I stopped performing.”

“I… see,” she said slowly. So where was the other Mabel, then? Shouldn’t there be a fancy, blue-eyed, properly Adult™ version of herself somewhere? She looked around the dressing room (holy crapinoli, she didn’t think she’d ever seen so much blue in one room), but there were no signs of a woman anywhere. There were no perfume bottles or makeup on the vanity, no dresses on the clothing rack, nothing.

How strange.

“Why were you in Gravity Falls?” He asked.

“To get away.” Helooked at her questioningly. Did it count if it was an unspoken question? She wasn’t sure, but she wasn’t risking it. “I needed an escape. College can be… stressful.”

That wasn’t the full reason, of course, but she wasn’t lying, either.

“Interesting.” He tapped his fingers on his leg. How could a person’s fingers be pleasant to look at?

“Why did you bring me here?”

“You needed help,” he said simply, shrugging a shoulder. He winced slightly when he did, but just a bit; the change in expression so minor she wasn’t sure she’d seen it at all. “However did you find yourself kidnapped by gnomes, of all things? Gnomes who wanted you for their queen, no less.”

She looked away. It’d been a long time since she had fought against anything but class schedules and exams she wasn’t prepared for.

“They… caught me off guard,” she told him quietly. “They tried something similar when I was a kid, but they lost. It never occurred to me that they might try again.”

“Gnomes are persistent little things,” he mused. “They dislike losing, and they are quite stubborn. It stands to reason that they’d try again if you’d beaten them before.”

“What… what did you do?” Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper. “To the gnomes, I mean. Unless, of course, I’m misremembering, because there is every chance I am, what with the concussion I very likely have and all, so if I am just say the word, but it seemed pretty dang clear that-“

“I killed them,” he said bluntly. His face was bored, disinterested. Apathetic, even. It didn’t even seem to be bothering him. How could it not be bothering him? Unless…

Unless he’d killed before.

The human brain could get used to just about anything if given enough time.

“You- you killed them,” her voice was horrified, she knew. She could hear it in her tone. Yeah, she’d wanted to get away from them, she’d wanted them to leave her alone, and maybe she’d even wanted to give them a good whack, but she hadn’t wanted them dead.

“Of course I did,” he sounded surprised at her reaction. “They hurt you. They were going to hurt you far worse.”

“I know that,” she whispered. “I know that. But that doesn’t give you the right to just… you can’t be someone’s judge, jury, and executioner. That’s not right.”

“I only did it to save you, Mabel.” She had only heard Not-Dipper say her name once before.

It was different than when Dipper said it. Maybe it was because Not-Dipper’s voice was a little deeper, a little smoother-sounding?

“You weren’t safe. Not in your universe.” His eyes were burning, which was strange since they were the color of ice. “I can keep you safe. I will keep you safe.”

“Ummm… that’s cool and all, but that’s pretty freakin’ unsettling, to have somebody just, like. ‘Splode a bunch of gnomes for you,” she eyed him warily, still trying to figure out how to get away from the dude without crawling. Would he get angry with her for not being appreciative? She didn’t want to see him angry. Would he hurt her?

“I don’t want you to be scared of me,” he told her quietly, his voice a little sad.

She almost lied and told him she wasn’t scared of him, that everything was hunky-dorey, and that he should smile.

She didn’t.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have, I dunno, made people explode in front of me?” She was being sarcastic, she knew, and that was probably a bad idea, but sometimes she just couldn’t help herself.

“Gnomes aren’t people, technically,” he reminded her.

“Semantics,” she waved his argument away. “They’re living creatures. Or they were, anyway, before you decided to go and massacre them.”

Not-Dipper had a look on his face that suggested he wasn’t opposed to killing living creatures, whether they were human or not.

Maybe he already had.

Mabel hoped he hadn’t, but something in the way he held himself gave her a sneaking suspicion that he had.

“I’m sorry if that… bothers you, or if it scares you. I don’t want to make you feel those things,” he sighed. “That said, I think it’d be best if I were up front with you: if put in the same situation again -if you were in danger again, that is to say- I’d do the same thing.”

She crossed her arms, pursed her lips, and glared at him. “Take me home, please.”

There was panic in his eyes. “I- I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“The portal… it doesn’t work like that. I’ll have to find another way to get you back,” he explained. She was still glaring at him when he continued. “But for the time being, you can stay with me. If you want,” he turned his body to face her for the first time since he’d hugged her.

“Well. I suppose that’ll have to- WHAT ON EARTH IS THAT?” She was pointing, horrified, to his shoulder, where one arrow, perhaps about a foot long, was embedded in his shoulder. Another was in his side, the one that had been facing away from her. Blood had seeped through to pool around the entry wounds, though the bleeding seemed to have stopped. His eyes followed her shaking finger.

“Oh, right. I got shot with a couple of arrows. Just gnome ones, though, so they’re quite small,” she dropped her hand back to the soft fabric of the chaise.

“Okay, so you saved me, and you got hurt doing it,” she was saying this to herself, staring at her knees and speaking as if he couldn’t hear her when he could absolutely hear her. “Okay. Okay. This is fine, this is fine, Mabel girl.” She looked back up at him. “Okay, let’s go… wherever we need to go for you to treat those… yeah…”

“Very well,” he agreed. “I’ll take you there.”

He helped her to her feet, and she still found herself a bit dizzy, wobbling a bit.

“Would you like me to carry you?” he offered, steadying her with a hand on her arm.

“Carry m- say what now?”

“I don’t mind, particularly if you’re having difficulty walking still.” As if that explanation was adequate! Why was homeboy cool with it at all, though? She’d gotten a hella nasty gash on her leg once in PE, can ya guess how many people offered to freakin’ carry her to the nurse? Zero, is the answer. Zero.

What a weird dude. And Mabel was in love with her gay twin brother, so if she, of all people, thinks you’re weird, then you are weird.

“Nope!” she squeaked out way too quickly to sound even remotely close to being normal. “I’m good on the carrying front, thanks! Got it covered!”

“Suit yourself.” Ugh why, why was he smiling that smile again, it reminded her of Dipper and also not, and it made her nervous as all hell. “This way.” And with that, he promptly strolled out of his dressing room, clearly expecting her to follow.

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #gf fanfiction #pinecest #mabel pines #dipper gleeful #reverse dipper #reverse falls #fanfiction #my wriitng #Mabel’s all-in-one guide to being a shooting star #fucking hell RD is so hot

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yedamismymom · 5 years ago

Note

Could you do a fluff for Asahi🥰

8:12 AM

Asahi x Reader

fluff

1.5k+ words

“Happy six months!”, you both cheered before blowing out the candles of the small chocolate cake that Asahi had bought for the occasion. This was the last event of your half year anniversary celebration, majority of the day having passed with fun things the two of you had planned the day before. You both had done everything you possibly could in a day. From getting custom couple rings to having a picnic in the park. Not to mention the excessive amounts of pictures you both took of each other and your shenanigans. You both were the definition of a love sick couple. “So, what did you get me?”, Asahi asked curiously after feeding you a piece of the cake. He was dying to know what you’d bought for him. He had been for almost three weeks now since you’d bought his gift in advance. You went to your room to retrieve the present, scurrying back to him and handing him the tiny gift bag. “Here it is! Open it up!” Asahi was quick to obey, swiftly tearing off the gift wrap and carefully pulling open the tiny box that lay inside it. As soon as the cover was off, Asahi’s face was unreadable. He stared at the inside with a blank expression which soon morphed into one of shock, confusion and surprise. “You got me this?”, he asked after a while, looking up at you with his brow raised. Your smile dropped, hands starting to get clamy. “Yeah, do you not like it?” Asahi shook his head frantically, taking your hands in his and sitting you back down in front of him. “No no no, I really like it, trust me. It’s just that…” He never completed his sentence, instead pulling something out of his pocket. When he brought the object into view, you too were in a similar state of shock and surprise, just as he was. Your eyebrows nearly shot off your head when your eyes landed on the necklace that he’d bought. Why? Well, because it was the exact same one that you’d bought for him. It had the same black and dark grey beads and the same obsidian pendant in the centre. The only difference was that his pendant had your initials on it and yours had his. “Well this is definitely not what I’d expected.”, you admitted, taking the necklace from him and scanning it for any other minute differences. “I’m sorry y/n. I’ll get you something else sometime later. Anything you want.”, Asahi assured you, mistaking your words. “You don’t need to get me anything else Asahi. I really like this and I’m really happy you chose this one for me. I was just saying that I couldn’t believe a coincidence like this was even remotely possible dummy.”Asahi nodded, rubbing his neck, slightly embarrassed with the miscommunication. “Well whatever, let me put it on for you.”, you said, changing the topic. His eyes lit up at that and he handed you his pendant, turning around so you could help him wear it. “How does it look?”, he asked you. “Pretty.”, you replied, smiling at him brightly. “My turn!”, you piped up, turning around and pulling your hair to the side. Asahi fitted the necklace around you easily, tickling your neck when he was done. “Yay! Now we’re matching!”, you beamed. Asahi booped your nose and chuckled at your thrilled form. The rest of the night went by in smiles, hugs and kisses with you both deciding to watch a movie before you went to bed. Now, you sat on your bed, quietly waiting for Asahi to join you after taking a call. “What’s taking him so long?”, you mumbled to yourself, starting to get impatient. You got off the bed and walked over to your door, standing stiff as you heard his words. “Her reaction was so cute! Your plan totally worked hyung. Although, I do feel bad for pranking her. I’m going to buy her something else and give it to her later.” What plan was he talking about? When had he pranked you? You pulled open your door, making Asahi jumped as you caught him off guard. “Umm hyung, I have to go I’ll call you back tomorrow.”, he said, hanging up the phone. “What was the prank?”,you asked right away, getting straight to the point. Asahi’s eyes widened, but this time, not in shock. He just realised you’d heard more than he thought. Asahi smiled at you and dragged you back to the bed. “Don’t get mad at me, but the matching necklace thing was a prank.”, he revealed, refraining from beating around the bush. “IT WASN’T A COINCIDENCE?”, you shouted in complete disbelief. Asahi shook his head, a guilty smile playing on his features. “I was having a hard time deciding what to buy for you so I asked Jihoon hyung and he suggested that I do this.”, he explained. “THAT MEANS YOU WENT THROUGH MY THINGS YOU PRICK!” Asahi flinched and grabbed both your hands, tugging you into his arms. “Well yeah, I did. But if I hadn't then this wouldn’t have happened, would it?”, he asked, wrapping his arms around your waist. You scowled and folded your arms. “Are you mad at me y/n?” You turned your head to the side, refusing to look at him. “No I’m not. I’m just pissy and its all your fault.”, you answered, and angry pout etched on your face. Asahi chuckled slightly and turned you around. “I’m sorry baby, it was supposed to be a joke.”, he said, flashing you an apologetic smile. “Do you realise how cute of a coincidence it could have been if it had been genuine? I even boasted about it to my friends a few minutes ago, telling them that it was real even though they said it wasn’t possible. Now they’re gonna make fun of me.”, you revealed, dropping yourself onto him. Asahi held you closer, comfortingly rubbing your back. “Don’t worry y/n. If you want, I can tell them that it really was a coincidence. I won’t let them make a fool of my beautiful girlfriend.” You snickered into his neck, pushing yourself off him and fixed your gaze with his. “And why would they believe a liar?” Asahi scoffed at you and rolled his eyes. “All you took from that was that I lied to you? I didn’t even lie y/n, I just pranked you.” You nodded, no sign of doubt in your eyes. “Yes you did. Asahi, if you knowingly turn in a math assignment to your biology teacher simply because you didn’t complete your bio homework then wouldn’t that be lying?” Asahi furrowed his brows and sat up straight. “Well yeah, but this wasn’t that kind of a lie. This was you asking me if I’m throwing a surprise party for you and me denying it when in reality I actually am. I’m not supposed to tell you until it’s time for you to know. Even if I lie to you initially, I tell you the truth eventually.”, he retorted. You sighed, not knowing how to beat that. Well, it was clear that you’d lost this battle. You huffed defeatedly and returned to hiding your face in his neck. Asahi’s hands were now playing with your hair, aimlessly twisting and turning stands of it between his fingers. It was quiet for a while, just you and Asahi in each other’s embrace. “Y/n? You’re not going to hold a grudge against me for this right?”, Asahi asked consciously. “No. I’m not.”, you spoke, sending a shiver up his neck. Asahi shuddered at that and peeled you off him, forcing you to look at him. “Might I ask why?” “Well you’re not going to let me go if I don’t tell you so I might as well.”, you said with a shrug. Asahi beckoned for you to continue. “Because not matter how pissed I am with you I can’t help but stay mad at you for too long.”, you told him, looking anywhere but at him. Asahi pulled your face to his. “And why’s that?”, he pressed. You shook your head and looked away, only to have him bring you back, this time with both him palms fixed on your cheeks. “Tell me.”, he instructed, smirking at you knowingly. “This isn’t fair.”, you whined, trying to pry his hands away. “If you don’t tell me right now, I’ll tell your friends that it was all a prank.”, he warned. You groaned out, hitting his chest in frustration. “You can’t do that. That’s cheating.” “No it’s not.”, he denied, squishing your cheeks together. “What happened to ‘I won’t let them make a fool of my beautiful girlfriend’? See? You don’t even love me.”, you retaliated, sulking dramatically to emphasise your point. “That’s not true. I love you very much. Say, do you love me?”, he asked. “Yeah. Yeah I do. Unfortunately, I love you.”, you spilled, realising a second too late that you both had just shared your first ‘I love you’s. Asahi was already smiling happily at you when you looked back at him. “You love me very much?” You repeated his words. finding them unbelievable. To say you were happy would be an understatement. You were on top of the world. You pulled him into a bone crushing hug, planting a full kiss on his lips. “This isn’t a prank right?”, you asked worriedly, more than ready to bust his ass if it turned out to be true. Thankfully and much to your relief, Asahi shook his head. “No it’s not.”

a/n: hope you liked it!

#treasure #treasure imagines #treasure scenarios #treasure fluff #asahi #asahi imagines #asahi scenarios #asahi fluff #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff #requests #treasure asahi #kpop x reader #asahi x reader #treasure x reader #TM.NETWORK

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tw-anchor · 4 years ago

Text

40. Unusual Halloween

Anchor Stiles Stilinski x Original Character

Episode: 3x16; Illuminated

Word Count: 8,199

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence + gore, sex scene (18+ only!)

Author’s Note: Hey guys, sorry I haven’t updated lately. This has been the busiest--and worst--season of my life, so I haven’t felt up to writing much. Unfortunately, it will probably be a while until I update again because I’m starting my new job full time next week while going to school full time as well. Wish me luck! I hope you enjoy the chapter and please make sure to tell me what you think, reblog, and like!

"So, when did you get there?"

If Olivia had to stare at Agent Rafael McCall for another five minutes, she was gonna punch him in the face. She wouldn't be at fault, either; how could she be responsible for her actions when she just went through something as traumatic as a teenager could go through? A serial killer kidnapped her new friend and they all rescued her, but they were the ones being questioned? Where was the justice in the world?

Yeah, if she did end up punching Scott's dad in the face, she would totally blame it on her stressful night. It wasn't because she couldn't stand the smug son of a bitch; even if he wasn't a dick when they first crossed paths, she still wouldn't be able to tolerate him—especially because of what he was doing to Noah. And now, after he ushered in Olivia, Stiles, Scott, Kira, and Lydia into Noah's office, he was asking repetitive questions about their experience.

Hey, Olivia was all for justice and all that—but what exactly could the FBI do about a bunch of werewolves, a banshee, an anchor, and whatever the hell Kira was? Barrow was after kids with glowing eyes and as far as the up-tops were concerned, no such thing existed. They put Barrow in the Eichen House for a reason.

To put it simply, she was not in the best of moods. Kira was some kind of supernatural creature that could absorb electricity, Stiles and Scott were almost electrocuted to death by Barrow, and Isaac was at the Argents, his tether recovering from what had happened to him, even though she had no idea what that was. She did not want to be at the police station at midnight, squished into a small couch with Stiles, Scott, and Kira—Lydia was the lucky one with the armchair—while the jolly green giant questioned them.

To her left, Stiles responded, "At the same time."

"At the same time as who?"

"At the same time as me," Scott told his father.

"By coincidence?"

"What do you mean coincidence?"

Things were not helped when Stiles decided it was time to be a sarcastic little shit. It was well known that Stiles hated Agent McCall—she had heard many, many rants about his best friend's dad—so everyone knew what he was doing. Answering questions with questions, offering sarcastic quips that answered nothing, and silent smirks were what they've been having to deal with since their questioning started. Olivia loved Stiles Stilinski, she really did, but he was wasting their time, precious time where they could be sleeping. He really lived up to his mischievous name.

"That's what I'm asking you," Agent McCall gestured to Stiles and Scott. "The two of you arrived at the same time. Was that coincidence?"

Scott's face twisted in confusion. "Are you asking me?"

"I think he's asking me," Stiles mused.

"I think he's asking the both of you," Lydia said dryly, as annoyed with the boys' antics as Olivia was.

"Okay," Agent McCall interjected sternly. "Let me answer the questions."

Olivia rolled her eyes at him, completely unimpressed with his sense of professionalism, and glanced at Stiles. His lips were pursed ridiculously, like he was taking a selfie with the terribly cliché duck face; she had to admit, it did make her want to laugh, especially when she caught sight of Noah holding back his own laughter.

Seeing the amused faces staring back at him, Agent McCall realized his mistake. "Let me ask the questions," he corrected himself. "Just so I have this absolutely clear: Barrow was hiding in the chemistry closet at the school. Someone left him a coded message on the blackboard telling him to kill Kira. Then Barrow took Kira to a power substation and tied her up with the intent of electrocuting her, which blacked out the entire town."

He closed his notebook, where he had been writing down the information they gave him, with a final snap.

"Sounds about right," Stiles sighed; with his right hand, he idly played with the ends of Olivia's ponytail.

"How'd you know he'd take her to a power station?"

"Well, cause he was an electrical engineer," Stiles scratched his temple with his free hand. He shifted his other away from Olivia until it was folding over his stomach. "Where else would he take her?"

There were a billion other places that Barrow had taken Kira, but they couldn't exactly tell Agent McCall that they knew they were at a power station because of Lydia's newfound banshee abilities. Then they'd be shipped to Eichen.

Agent McCall raised a dubious eyebrow at him. "That's one hell of a deduction there, Stiles."

"Yeah, what can I say? I take after my pops, he's in law enforcement," Stiles swiftly smirked, winking at his dad from where he sat behind McCall.

Noah audibly snorted, amused by his son's answer, but covered it with an awkward cough when McCall gave him a glare. "Stiles, just answer the man."

"We made a good guess," Stiles said finally, wrapping his arm back around Olivia's shoulders. She closed her tired eyes and rested her head in the crook of his neck, inhaling and relaxing at the scent that was pure him. Stiles always smelt so good, like sandalwood and musk and minty gum.

Agent McCall set his sights on Scott and Kira. "What were the two of you doing?"

"Eating pizza," Scott answered at the same time as Kira spoke, "Eating sushi."

Olivia rolled her eyes but didn't bother opening them; couldn't they have gotten their story straight before McCall started questioning them?

Scott and Kira glanced at each other awkwardly and cleared their throats.

"Eating sushi."

"Eating pizza."

Jesus Christ.

"Eating sushi and pizza," they finally said together.

Olivia opened her eyes just as McCall looked back at Noah in disbelief. "Do you believe this?"

"To be honest, I haven't believed a word Stiles has said since he learned how to speak," Noah spoke candidly, ignoring the offended gasp Stiles gave in response. "But I think these kids found themselves in the right place at the right time and that girl sitting there is very lucky for it."

"Kira," all heads turned to her when Agent McCall addressed her. "is that how you remember it?"

At once, Stiles, Olivia, and Lydia leaned forward to stare at Kira, giving her their own keep-your-mouth-shut looks. Kira only hesitated for a second before she answered him. "Yes...Could I get my phone back now?"

The police hadn't taken the rest of their phones, but apparently Barrow had started videoing Kira while in the power station. It was officially evidence. Which meant...

"Sorry, but no," McCall refused her as he stood from his seat on Noah's desk. "All right, I think that's it for now. If I have anymore questions, I'll get in touch with you. Kira, a deputy is going to take you home but we'll need you to fill out some paperwork first."

Olivia sighed in relief once they were ushered out of Noah's office. Sticking close to Stiles and Lydia and as they exited the police station, she pulled out her phone. She needed to call Isaac and see if he was okay. Because while Scott and Stiles were in danger with Barrow, Isaac had some other trouble that he had gone into.

There was no electricity pulsing through Beacon Hills unless it came from a generator. Despite this, the students of Beacon Hills High still had to attend their regular classes. Though the sun provided some light in the dark hallways and classrooms, everyone was still bathed in shadows and had to resort to their phones for flashlights if it was too dark for them.

Thankfully, Olivia's house had a generator that ran long enough for the food in their refrigerator to stay fresh and their phones to stay charged. She didn't want to be one of those people, but she would be seriously lost without her phone.

"Class starts in five minutes," Coach boomed through his trusty megaphone as he walked past Stiles' locker where he and Olivia stood before classes started. "Just because there's no power don't expect there to be no school."

Olivia looked up from her phone to narrow her eyes at him, knowing that something was off with that sentence.

"That was a triple negative," Stiles called out as he dug through his locker. "Very impressive, Coach."

"Copy that!"

Olivia snickered and shifted so she was leaning on her side at the lockers next to Stiles'. "Your relationship with Coach is so intriguing."

Stiles chuckled at her, smirking. "What, like how madly in love we are?"

"Exactly," Olivia laughed while pointing a manicured finger at him. "So, am I considered the side chick, or...?"

"Actually, you are," Stiles nodded seriously. "By the way, on a completely unrelated note, I have to cancel tonight's plans. I'm busy..."

"You're gonna Netflix and Chill with Coach? Damn..."

Stiles' amused face immediately creased into one of disgust. "Okay, gross. We took it too far."

Olivia laughed, her heart racing when Stiles gave into his amusement and chuckled along with her.

"Speaking of tonight," Olivia said when their laughter died down. "I'm kinda, sorta, throwing a party?"

Stiles blinked at her in shock. "You hate parties."

"But I don't hate Danny and every year he throws a Halloween party," she explained. "Jackson's not here to help him out and now with the power out, he doesn't have a place, so Lydia and I offered our house because we have the generators."

"At least I'll finally be invited to one of Danny's parties," Stiles paused and looked down at her with wide eyes. "I am invited, right?" when Olivia teasingly grimaced; Stiles' jaw dropped in offense. "Livvy!"

"Of course you're invited, sweetcheeks," Olivia rolled her eyes at him and shifted closer to him in order to wrap her hands around his right arm. "I was just teasing you."

"I have a fragile heart, you can't tease me about that kind of stuff," Stiles ducked down so he could whisper in her ear, his lips grazing against her skin. Olivia shivered and tightened her grip on him. "You know, unless we're alone, hopefully in a bed, though I wouldn't be against a shower or the back of Roscoe..."

Olivia held back her gasp but biting her lip. "But your fragile heart...?"

Stiles chuckled and quickly pressed his warms lips against the sensitive spot behind her ear. "You caught me. My heart's fine, it just beats really fast in your presence so I thought I might have a heart condition."

"You're so fucking cheesy, Stiles Stilinski," she giggled and lightly pushed him away from her. In the process, Stiles' backpack brushed against his locker, making his keys fall to the floor. "Oops, sorry."

"It's fine—and you love my cheesiness, by the way," Stiles winked at her and then bent to retrieve his key ring. He paused when he noticed a key that he didn't recognize. "Hello, where did you come from?"

"What, the key?" Stiles nodded at her; Olivia shrugged. "Maybe your dad put it on there. Oh, there's Scott."

Stiles, who was about to disagree with her about the key, turned around to see his best friend stepping into school. He waved at him, but Scott's focus was not on Stiles or Olivia. No, Scott was staring at Kira, who was at her locker down the hall. Before Scott could even take another step in her direction, Stiles quickly intervened.

"No, no, stop, stop," he directed Scott over to Olivia by his locker.

Scott gave him a disgruntled look. "What? I need to talk to her."

"No, you need to remember someone left a coded message telling Barrow to kill her," Stiles corrected him.

Olivia sighed. To be honest, she was with Scott on this one. Kira had a serial bomber go after her and try to kill her, and though she was mysteriously able to survive an astounding electric blast, Kira was a sweet girl and they needed to check up on her. It was out of the norm for her, she was fully aware, but since Kira was like them—at least, she was supernatural—maybe she needed friends, or a pack, to help her along. Olivia and Scott were willing to extend that olive branch.

"That's why he needs to talk to her, Stiles."

Stiles gave her a betrayed look. "Don't take his side!" he looked at her and Scott sternly. "Guys, until we figure out if she's just another psychotic monster that's going to start murdering everybody, I vote against any and all interaction."

"Stiles, she uses an elephant backpack, for crying out loud," Olivia rolled her eyes. "Does that seem psychotic to you?"

Stiles cocked his head, seriously considering her question. Before he could answer, Scott spoke, "What if she's like me?"

Scott's comment seemed to make up Stiles' mind. "That girl walked through 1.21 gigawatts of electricity," he pointed out, annoyed, and slammed his locker shut. "She's not like you."

Olivia turned her head toward Kira's locker. Kira seemed nervous, as though she could feel their eyes on her, as she rummaged through her locker. Quickly, she grabbed a textbook, shut her locker, and walked away, glancing back at them only once.

"Maybe Stiles is right," Olivia gave in, looking over at Scott. "Werewolves can't take that level of electricity. So...until we find out what Kira is, maybe you need to give her some space."

Stiles gave her a proud look while Scott sighed and shook his head. "Fine," he finally agreed. "Let's go to class."

Together, they walked to physics class. Today was the first day that Olivia's aunt, Natalie, would be taking over Mr. Harris' classes. Olivia was very proud of her aunt and excited to be able to learn from her, as she usually didn't have time to sit down and discuss the sciences with her whilst at her previous job at the local television station. No longer would they have subpar substitute teachers trying to teach them about higher levels of science—if Olivia was going to be challenged for the rest of the year, she needed a real science guy and Natalie more than fit the bill.

"Scott, Stiles," Natalie greeted the boys when they passed her to find their shared table. "Olivia, sweetheart, can we talk?"

"Sure, Aunt Nat," Olivia stepped aside to allow her classmates to walk into the room. "What's up? Are you nervous for your first class? Because you don't have to be. You're gonna be amazing."

Natalie smiled gratefully. "Well, thank you, Liv, but that's not what I wanted to talk about. I know we discussed the party at the house tonight, but Sherry's house doesn't have power, so I was hoping we could have book club at our house. We're the only ones with working generators..."

Olivia smiled to hide her disappointment. "Don't worry about it, Aunt Nat. I'm sure book club will be fun. I have to go talk to Danny, though..."

"Of course," Natalie nodded. "I have to pass out these worksheets anyway."

Olivia gave her aunt one last smile before scurrying over to the lab table where Danny was seated. Usually she and Lydia were lab partners and Danny shared with Aiden, but they could handle a switch for one day. She clambered onto the lab stool next to Danny, and gave Lydia, who was seated at the table in front of them, a significant look. Lydia could read her easily and since she knew about the party plans, she was able to realize that something was going on.

"You're my lab partner today, huh?" Danny gave Olivia a confused look.

"It's because I have bad news. We can't use my house tonight, my aunt's having book club."

Danny visibly deflated. "So we have no venue?"

"Do we know of another place that's big enough for a party and has generators?" Olivia mused. The only other place that she, personally, could think of was Derek's loft. Derek would never go for it, would he? "Wait a second..."

Every Halloween, since Derek was around fourteen, his mom, Talia, would take him and Laura to a showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. It was very shocking that Derek enjoyed such an event, but he never failed to go each year, even after Talia died. Olivia had been with to the show with her cousins once, and though she liked the movie, she didn't much enjoy being surrounded by strangers who sang louder than the actors or threw stuff at the screen.

Yes, she was entirely aware that she was a party-pooper, thank you very much. The point was that Derek wouldn't be at the loft, as the nearest showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show was an hour away. He'd be gone all night and would be none the wiser of a party.

Danny perked up, seeing the scheming look on her face. "You have a plan, don't you?"

"I know a place where we can have your party."

She pulled out her phone to text Derek.

Ollie: Are you still going to Rocky Horror?

Derek: Yeah, why?

Ollie: Jw. Have fun and be safe!

When Stiles thought about how his Halloween was supposed to go, he certainly hadn't thought of today's events. He'd been expecting a scary movie marathon with Olivia by his side, allowing him to hide his head in her neck at the scary parts. He'd been expecting them to hand out candy to trick-or-treaters that stumbled upon the Sheriff's house because the Stilinski's always gave out the best candy in their neighborhood.

He wasn't, however, expecting a rave at Derek's loft—that Olivia helped plan, by the way—or helping Scott and Kira break into the police station.

When Scott had approached Stiles, asking for help get into the police station, he had immediately said no. Agent Jackass McCall was already trying to get his dad impeached, and there was no way he was taking part in any plot that could get Noah into even more trouble. Unfortunately, he felt obligated to change his tune when Scott told him exactly why he and Kira needed to break into Agent McCall's office.

Apparently Kira had already known that something was off with her before the Barrow incident. She had taken a picture of herself and found a sort of aura around her, one that definitely couldn't be explained if you didn't know about the supernatural happenings in the world. Now that McCall had Kira's phone, he had access to that picture and they absolutely could not let him know about the supernatural side to Beacon Hills, let alone his son's current nature.

So, instead of helping Olivia, Danny, and the twins set up the rave at Derek's loft, he was stuck playing sidekick. Fun. Yeah, it was totally what he wanted to do on Halloween.

Bitterly, he chewed up the rest of the Snickers bar he had been snacking on and threw the wrapper away in the small bin he kept in the backseat of his jeep. When he turned back, facing the front, he saw Scott and Kira pull up on Scott's bike.

All right, here we go.

It wasn't that Stiles didn't like Kira—honestly, he didn't know enough about her to like or dislike her—but he certainly didn't trust her. After everything they went through since Scott was bitten by Peter, how was he supposed to trust anyone new? Especially when she happened to be immune to electricity and instantly took a shining to Scott.

Stiles grabbed the station keycards that he had sneakily copied from Noah and handed them to Scott one by one. "Okay, this one will get you into all of the perimeter doors," he passed another one. "this one into the evidence room, and this one's for my father's office."

Scott looked at him, alarmed. "You didn't steal these, did you?"

"No, I cloned them using the RFID emulator."

It was clear that Scott nor Kira had no idea what he was talking about. "Is that worse than stealing?"

Stiles rolled his eyes; the two of them had done a lot worse than stealing before. "It's smarter."

Scott nodded, his lips quirking up, impressed by Stiles' actions but he was quickly pulled away by Kira. "Scott, can I ask you something?"

Stiles narrowed his eyes at her. That wasn't suspicious at all. "Okay, I'll just...wait here..."

Luckily, Kira and Scott's conversation was brief. They joined him back at the jeep, Kira smiling widely up at him. "Okay."

"Okay," Stiles mimicked her, raising his eyebrows as he glanced between her and Scott. "So, now almost everybody's out dealing with the blackout, but there's always somebody at the front desk, dispatch and usually a night shifter or two," he pointed at the only door in the alley where he and Scott parked. "You guys are gonna use the service door entrance by the dumpster, all right? Nobody uses it."

Scott and Kira glanced at the service door and nodded obediently.

"Now, I'll text you if anyone comes out," Stiles continued. "But, Scott, if you get caught, I can't help you. My dad's under investigation for an impeachment because of your dad, so if anything happens, I will run and leave you both for dead."

Kira blinked and smiled nervously at him while Scott nodded, knowing how serious he was. "I got it. Seriously, dude, thanks."

Stiles pressed his lips together and nodded. "I'd ask my dad, but you know..."

"No, I know," Scott assured him earnestly. "I get it."

"All right, just, uh, hurry up," Stiles waved them off. "Be careful."

Scott and Kira scurried off and once they were inside, Stiles let a big sigh of relief. Hopefully they'd have no trouble and get in and out after deleting the pictures on Kira's phone. However, a part of him knew that it wouldn't be that simple. When were they ever given the easy way out? The answer was that they didn't; they had notoriously bad luck.

Stiles waited silently, impatiently fiddling with his key ring. He tossed them round and round his index finger until he caught sight of the key he had noticed earlier at school. He didn't know what it was for and he knew the purpose for all of his keys. He had his house keys, his jeep keys, his dad's car keys, Scott's house keys, and even Olivia's house keys...but this key? Well, he had never seen it before and it was bugging him out. How could he not remember putting a new key on his key ring? How else would it have gotten there?

Bright headlights seared his eyes for a moment as a vehicle pulled into the alleyway behind the station. He didn't know who it was that had parked there until the headlights went off and the man got out of his car; Stiles would recognize that tall, lanky figure anywhere.

Fucking asshole, he cursed to himself as McCall rounded the front of his car. Fuck, Scott, where are you? Come on. Oh, fuck it. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Despite telling Scott upfront that he would leave him and Kira, he couldn't do it.

"Fuck," he opened his door and jumped out as McCall entered the station. "I'm go going to regret this."

He quickly ran around the building, entering only a few seconds after Agent McCall flashed his badge to the deputy at the front desk.

"Hey, hey!" he called, waving to the workers at the desk before catching up to McCall. "Wow!" he exclaimed when the agent turned to face him, confused. "Thank God you are here. Oh, boy! Thank the lord!"

As always, Agent McCall was not impressed with his antics. "What do you want, Stiles?"

Shit, now he had to come up with something to talk about. "I was...I was just...I was thinking on the case," he blurted out nervously, his absentminded thoughts taking over for him. "I was thinking I should clue you in on my thinking. Here's my thinking, I was thinking this..."

He grimaced at the annoyed glare McCall was giving him. "I was thinking that Barrow, right...I was thinking that Barrow received the information about who to kill at the school, right, you know that?" he was fully aware he was rambling but the more his brain worked, the better he felt about this excuse of a conversation. "So, I was thinking that maybe the person who gave him that information—check this out—might actually be someone at the school."

Agent McCall raised his eyebrows and Stiles laughed awkwardly, poking his chest. "And that's, uh, my thinking."

McCall hummed for a moment, eyeing him suspiciously Stiles honestly thought that he was caught and he had just given him the very reason to fire Noah, but then the older man spoke. "You're right."

"I am?!"

"Yeah, we, uh...we started looking for links between Barrow, faculty, and students last night," McCall informed him.

"So you already, then, know that stuff?" McCall nodded at Stiles' question. "You already thought of that."

"Your dad did," McCall shared, his mouth twisting into a disapproving smirk. "His one useful suggestion."

A storm cloud of rage bubbled in Stiles' gut as McCall went to enter the bullpen. He was so fucking sick of this man coming around and ruining everyone's lives just because his sucked so bad. McCall made his bed and instead of laying in it, he was destroying everyone else's.

Without thinking, Stiles firmly grabbed McCall's arm, stopping him from entering the bullpen. "You know, this attitude that you have toward my dad? You can dress it up to all the professional disapproval that you want, but I know the real reason you don't like him."

McCall chuckled sarcastically, sending Stiles deeper into his silent fury. "Is that so?"

"Yeah," his voice lowered threateningly, his nostrils flaring angrily. "because he knows something that you don't want him to know. And guess what?" his whisper took on a sing-song tune before quickly diving into a hard whisper. "I know it too."

McCall swallowed uncomfortably and a thrill went through Stiles as he congratulated himself on being able to intimidate an FBI agent who was trying to fuck up his dad's life. "Go home, Stiles. There's a curfew."

Stiles smirked as McCall pulled himself from his grasp and stepped around him, clearing his throat awkwardly as he entered the bullpen. Without another word, he left the police station, riding the high that the whole interaction had caused him.

He waited only a few minutes by his jeep until Scott and Kira ran out of the building, huge smiles on their faces.

"We did it," Scott told him enthusiastically. "All the pics are deleted."

"That was awesome!" Kira crowed, bouncing in place. "I mean, terrifying, completely terrifying...but kind of awesome! I've never done anything like that before. Have you guys?"

Stiles snorted and shared an amused look with Scott. "Yeah, once or twice."

Scott grinned back at him and then sighed, looking to Kira. "I guess I should take you home."

It was very clear to Stiles that Scott didn't want to stop hanging out with Kira. They were obviously having a good time and, really, what trouble could they get up to at a party? Olivia liked Kira, too—as much as he could like someone that she hadn't really hung out with—so it wasn't like Kira would be unwanted at the rave.

"Hey," he patted Scott's shoulder pointedly. "Don't forget, Livvy's throwing that party at Derek's loft."

"Oh, yeah," Scott perked up and glanced back at Kira. "You wanna go?"

Kira smiled shyly—that was all the answer the boys needed.

Olivia was only a little tipsy.

She was being responsible tonight—well, as responsible as one could get while throwing a party at your cousins loft while they're out of town—and not drinking as much as Danny. He needed to have fun and relax a bit, and while Olivia wanted to have fun too, she didn't need alcohol to do so.

The only reason she was drinking at all was because Lydia had begged her to take a couple of shots with her and it seemed socially unacceptable to not drink a beer at your own party.

So, yeah, she was feeling a little bit buzzed but not enough to feel it in the morning. She knew her limits and she wasn't the type of person to go over them.

All around her, people were dancing, drinking, and having fun with neon paint dripped all over their bodies. The black lights that she, Danny, Ethan, and Aiden put up around the loft made everyone glow in the dark and with the pumping of the loud music that the awesome deejay that Danny hired played, it was enough to make anyone excited. She didn't even like most parties and she was having a great time. Besides, after what Beacon Hills went through with stupid Jennifer and the million human sacrifices, they needed a time to let loose.

So, even though she normally couldn't stand Aiden—or Lydia spending time with him, for that matter—she couldn't help but smirk when she saw him and Lydia dancing up on each other. No doubt Lydia was trying to keep her mind off of Scott and his newfound crush on Kira by focusing on the former alpha. It wasn't the best way to deal, but who was Olivia to tell Lydia how to live her life? Lydia was completely capable of taking care of herself.

"I cannot believe that Olivia Martin threw a party," her attention was caught by Allison as she and Isaac walked over to her. "at her cousin's loft, no less."

Isaac laughed and added, "I'm guessing Derek can never know about this?"

"Maybe in a couple of years," Olivia quickly wrapped her arms around them in a short group hug. "How are you doing, Isaac? You never got back to me."

She didn't like the way that Isaac and Allison immediately shared a loaded look with one another, as if debating on how to answer her question. She wasn't dumb, she knew they were hiding something. Why, she didn't know.

Isaac knew that she wouldn't give up and though he knew he owed her some sort of explanation, he had promised Allison and her dad to keep his mouth shut for twenty-four hours. "Enjoy the party, Liv. I'll tell you after."

"Promise, both of you?" Olivia gave the two of them a serious look.

Allison grinned while Isaac nodded, both of them speaking together. "Promise."

"All right, fine. Why don't you guys get something to drink?" Olivia glanced around the group of dancing bodies before pointing out where the bartender was set up. "Oh, and get painted up, too."

"Yes, ma'am," Isaac hooked Allison's fingers with his and pulled her away, pointedly ignoring the amused look their friend sent their way.

Olivia shook her head, eyes following Isaac and Allison as they slipped into the crowd. She should have known something was going on there, but she guessed she had been a little preoccupied with everything else going on in their lives. Still...Allison and Isaac? Yeah, she could see it. Allison was badass and strong and she was the firm ground of support that Isaac needed and Isaac was light and funny and could definitely get Allison to let loose. They complimented each other, they were cute.

They didn't need her approval whatsoever, but they had it anyway.

Out of nowhere, a sharp pulse came from Derek's tether before fading away. Olivia paused, her hand on her chest, and focused in on him. He was fine now, but it was odd, they way he lit up and went dark so soon after. Right now, it didn't concern her. Maybe he almost missed a red light or something...

Thoughts about Derek slipped away as she spotted the loft door opening. She recognized the neon-striped t-shirt that Stiles had worn to school earlier that day, and was instantly on her way toward him. She was tipsy, she wanted to have fun, and her hot-ass boyfriend had just entered the premises. There was no way she was just going to stand there and wait for him to come to her.

She made her way through the jungle of her drunk classmates, her eyes never leaving Stiles. As she got closer, she heard Scott—who was with Kira—asking him about leaving so they could figure something out. Before Stiles could respond, she was grabbing his arm, turning him and standing on her tiptoes so she could kiss him on the cheek.

"Happy Halloween, sweetcheeks," she purred into his ear, giving him a seductive look before letting him go.

"It can wait, it can wait!" Stiles shouted at Scott over the music. As Olivia began to slip away, he grabbed her hand so she would take him with her. "See ya!"

Olivia smirked knowingly when Stiles tightened his grip on her hand and abruptly pulled, swiftly turning her to face him. "Look at you, baby."

She was fully aware of what her outfit would do to him. Other than the fact she thought she was hot, she knew that her short, flowy shorts, and neon orange bralette would turn him on. And the body paint brushed all over her, well, that was just a bonus. "You like?"

"I love it. You're so fucking hot," he pulled her closer to him, their fronts pressed together; Olivia instantly grabbed his biceps, not fighting when he smashed their lips together.

It had been about a month since Olivia and Stiles had sex because of their busy lives. Of course, they did other things when they were in the mood but they never had time to go all the way again. Both of them were feeling the strain; they were crazy in love and so terribly attracted to one another, so of course, hormones were always pulsing through them. That night, they reached a pinnacle of tension that they couldn't ignore.

Within minutes, Olivia and Stiles found themselves upstairs in the bedroom Olivia used when she stayed over at Derek's loft. The both of them completely ignored the full-sized mattress in favor of the back of the door that Stiles pressed her up against, the wood soothingly cool against her back.

Stiles' hair was a mess under Olivia's fingers as she lost herself in his mouth, tongues wrestling together in a fight that neither of them wanted to lose—or win, for that matter. Stiles' palms were hot against her thighs, pushing her up until her legs wrapped around his waist, and when they moved tantalizingly slow to her ass and squeezed her cheeks, she gasped and arched her chest against him.

"Shit, Stiles!"

"Mmhm," Stiles moaned against her lips as her movement pressed deliciously against his cock. Slowly, he kissed away from her mouth and down her jaw to her neck, sucking harshly against the smooth and silky skin he found there. He loved the way she reacted to him, pushing herself against him again as she groaned under his demonstrations. "Livvy."

An indescribable warmth curled in Olivia's belly as she and Stiles rubbed up against one another. Letting go of his hair, she moved one hand down the length of Stiles' body to the band of his jeans. She easily popped the button and took a second to play with the wiry hair of his happy trail, knowing that it would lead her right to paradise.

"Mm...want you, baby," Stiles abruptly pulled away from her neck to stare at her with blown eyes. "Can I have you?"

Olivia didn't need to think about it. She wanted him just as much as he wanted her. "'Course, babe."

A wickedly sexy grin split Stiles' lips and Olivia's head nearly hit the door with how forcefully he kissed her. She was so caught up in their kiss that she didn't notice Stiles using one hand to pull her bralette down, freeing her breasts; it wasn't until he pulled away from the kiss and wrapped his lips about her right nipple when she realized. She moaned loudly, the pitch arcing higher when Stiles pushed his left thigh between hers to take some of her weight so she could grind down on him.

"Fuck, Stiles."

Stiles playfully bit at her nipple in response, prompting a pleasured sigh that turned more intense when he sucked at her. Shit, he felt so fucking good.

"Please..."

Stiles pulled away from her breast, licking his lips, and smirked up at her. "Please what, baby?"

Olivia's chest heaved as she breathed, "Please fuck me."

In a rapid succession of movements, broken up by awkward giggles, loving kisses, and whispered promises under their breath, Stiles and Olivia stripped from the rest of their clothes. The heat turned back on once Olivia's panties were officially out of the way and Stiles took it to his advantage, playing with her clit with the pad of his thumb.

Olivia moaned and ducked her head into his neck, her mouth finding traction between his neck and collarbone.

"Ready?"

"Mmhm."

Both of them moaned together as Stiles slipped into her with one single thrust. Quick to find a rhythm, they moved their hips together, taking pleasure from one another that was freely given.

"So fucking good, baby," Stiles groaned into her collarbone, gently nipping the skin there. By now, some of the neon paint on Olivia's body was starting to rub off on him and boy, did he not mind. They were like some kind of sexy painting together, they could totally be in a museum. "Love you."

"I love you," Olivia returned, arching back when he hit a particularly good spot inside of her.

She gasped when he licked from her collarbone all the way up to her chin before uniting their lips. Pressing her up against the door so most of her weight was resting on it, Stiles moved one hand to hold her jaw, keeping her lips on his, and the other to her clit, rubbing it firmly.

"S-Stiles..."

"You gonna come for me, baby? Huh?" he dragged his lips over to her ear, whispering to her with hot and heavy breaths. "C'mon, baby. Come with me."

The coil of pleasure that had been starting to build since she first kissed Stiles that night was wound too tight. Even though it felt so, so good to stay on the edge while Stiles thrust in and out of her and played with her clit, heading over the precipice would be even better. That's just how orgasms with Stiles went: pleasure, pleasure, and more pleasure.

Moving her right hand from where it was attached to the firm muscles in Stiles' back, she grabbed the back of his head and pulled her back to her lips. Their moans harmonized together as they reached their peaks, coming within just seconds of each other with sharp sighs.

Ten minutes later, after waiting out their aftershocks and post-orgasm bliss, they cleaned themselves up, shared a few more kisses, and went back downstairs where the party was still going strong.

Reminiscent of their first dance together, Stiles pulled Olivia onto the dance floor. They made fools of themselves as they danced crazily together, pulling out silly dance moves from the blue. The goofy grins on their faces told outsiders how madly in love they were and the warmth inside their chests proved it to themselves—not that they had any doubt, either way.

Before long, Stiles mentioned how thirsty he was, so they scored a couple of beers off the bartender and went to sit down.

"Let me see your bottle opener," Olivia held her palm out to Stiles expectantly, knowing that he kept one on his key ring.

"Oop," Stiles rummaged through his jean pocket and pulled the key ring out, handing it over to her. "Here ya go."

"Thanks," she detached the caps from their bottles and paused, her eyes lingering on his keys when she went to give them back to him. "You know, your key has phosphors on it."

Stiles furrowed his eyebrows. "Phosphors? What the hell is that?"

Olivia rolled her eyes and smiled patiently at him. "It's any substance that luminesces," she told him. "It's in your teeth and your fingernails, laundry detergent, this paint," she brushed her thumb against his lips, where some of the leftover lipstick she had one glowed against his flesh. "this..."

Stiles cut her off, urgently smashing his mouth to hers. Her stomach flipped pleasantly as she kissed back. After a few seconds they pulled away, both of them inhaling deeply.

"It reacts to the UV light," she finished, breathing heavily. "that's why it glows."

"How would I get phosphors on my key?"

"Probably lots of ways," Olivia shrugged carelessly. "You could have touched them after chemistry class, or after you washed your clothes..." she trailed off when she saw the frown playing at his lips. "Stiles, are you okay?"

Stiles forced a smile. "Yeah, yeah...um...I'm sorry, I just thought of something and I really have to go."

"What?" Olivia was understandably confused. "Stiles, what are you talking about?"

"I want to stay, I really do, cause I love you and you're so fucking beautiful," Stiles rambled quickly, standing up and setting his beer bottle down on the floor. "but I need to go see something, so you stay here, okay. I love you. Drink a bottle of water, okay?"

"Stiles, wait—"

"Love you, be careful!" he called, slipping away before she could stand and go after him.

"Stiles!"

Olivia wanted to follow him, she really did. She knew something was bothering him and she wanted to know what it was so she could help him. But before she could chase after him, Lydia's tether flared brightly and disappeared just like Derek's had before. Just like Isaac's had the night before, which could not be a coincidence.

Worriedly, she dived into Lydia's tether and looked for her. In a daze, she started walking, not even noticing when Danny had started to follow her, worriedly calling out her name.

"Liv, what are you doing? Olivia!"

Lydia, Lydia, Lydia...

She opened the door that led to Derek's balcony and paused when she saw her cousin laying still on the ground, her fingers seizing lightly. "Lydia!" she rushed to her and knelt down, finally noticing Danny. "Go get Aiden, hurry!"

"I'm so sorry, Lyds," she murmured, using all her strength to pull Lydia into her lap. She wrapped her arms tightly around the shivering red head and dug her head into her neck. "It's gonna be okay. You're gonna be fine."

What the hell happened to Lydia? What had attacked her and left her freezing on the balcony, unable to move or call for help? Whatever it was, was this the thing that got Derek and Isaac?

It was only a minute before Aiden and Danny rushed back out to her and Lydia.

"What happened?" Aiden asked as he knelt down next to the girls.

"I have no idea, but she's freezing," Olivia's eyes stung, feeling helpless, as she helped transfer Lydia to Aiden's warm arms. "I think she's hypothermic. We gotta get her inside."

Aiden nodded seriously and got to his feet, lifting Lydia with ease. "Let's go."

"Over here," Danny pointed to the nearest wall as they passed him to go back into the loft. "there's a heating vent!"

"Thank you, Danny," Olivia placed a grateful hand on his shoulder before following Aiden.

The former alpha set Lydia down in front of the heat register—thankfully the building used propane for heat, so the lack of electricity didn't affect it—and held her tightly, rocking her back in forth in order to get some heat back inside of Lydia. Olivia immediately started rubbing Lydia's bare legs, hoping that friction could offer some heat too.

"I'll try to find a blanket," Danny volunteered.

"Upstairs, the first door to the right," Olivia told him; he nodded and took off into the crowd. "Lydia," she called loudly so her cousin could hear her over the music. "Lyds, what happened? Can you tell me what happened?"

Lydia stared at her, wide-eyed, and gasped, "They came out of the dark."

"Who?" Aiden asked. "Who came out of the dark?"

"Lyds?"

"They—they looked like n-ninjas," Lydia stammered, her teeth chattering. "I—I couldn't scream, it took my scream."

Olivia and Aiden shared a dreadful look, both of them thinking the same thing. Shit.

Then, Olivia heard it, the ferocious growl that filled up her whole mental map. Derek's tether lit up brilliantly as he called out for her and Scott. It was then that she realized that she had horribly screwed up, ignoring his tether earlier. She could have done something if she just took her warnings of Derek and Isaac's injuries seriously. She was a horrible person.

"Derek!"

Aiden looked at her sharply. "This happened to Derek too?"

"I think so."

Danny quickly came back with a blanket and draped it over Lydia's shoulders. Though the redhead was still kind of out of it, she was slowly warming back up to the point where Olivia felt a little better about her health. Just as she was about to suggest they move Lydia to her room, the music was abruptly cut off.

"GET OUT!"

Yeah, that was definitely Derek. Olivia was so fucking screwed.

At once, the crowd started running for the door. Olivia helped Aiden get Lydia to her feet and let Danny take some of her weight. "Can you take her home please? I'll deal with this."

Danny nodded, giving a very angry Derek a wary look. "Yeah, okay." And with that, he towed Lydia out of the loft, leaving only Olivia, Derek, Aiden, Ethan, Scott, Allison, Isaac, and Kira.

Well, there were the dark shadows that appeared out of nowhere, too. Just like Lydia had described them, they looked like ninja assassins, with silver masks and glowing yellow eyes draped in black robes.

In unison, the robed ninjas took a step toward Aiden and Olivia, their glowing eyes glaring at them.

"Guys," Aiden called to the rest of the pack, reaching for Olivia to move her behind him. "Guys, they're looking at us. Why are they all looking at us, guys?"

"Ollie, go!"

Olivia didn't hesitate, taking Derek's warning. She ran away from where Aiden stood toward Isaac, Allison, and Ethan, who was leaning heavily against them. At the same time, Derek and Scott attacked, turning as they went to fight the dark ninjas.

Olivia focused on Derek, watching with a grimace as she realized that the ninjas were much better than him and Scott at combat. Sure, Derek had experience and strength, but these guys that came from the shadows seemed unbeatable. At one point, Derek had even snapped one's neck, only for it to pop back in place.

Derek was not doing well in his fight, his tether pulsing brightly, and neither was Scott. Once they were both on the floor, tapped out, Isaac stepped in, sharpening his nails into claws as Olivia took the rest of Ethan's weight to help Allison.

Isaac growled at one of the ninjas but the being did not look at all intimidated. In fact, he pulled a long, sharp sword from the middle of his chest and held it out toward Isaac, swinging it around threateningly. Smartly, Isaac stepped back—protecting Aiden, of all people, was not worth the sword to his stomach.

The ninja turned away from Isaac, facing Aiden like the others.

"Someone do something!" Allison called out, looking between Scott and Derek.

It was too late. Two ninjas grabbed Aiden's arms and held him still while a third stood in front of him. He looked into the former alpha's eyes and cocked his head, reaching up to grab a hold of his ear. A rattling noise came from its chest as it used one strict flick to make a mark behind Aiden's ear; Aiden immediately collapsed onto the floor, looking much like Lydia had when Olivia had found her.

Another step and all the ninjas were looking at her.

"Oh, shit."

Scott raced in front of her, Ethan, and Allison, growling fiercely at the beings. Before any of them could take a step forward, the sun began to shine through the large window. With only a touch of the rays against the ninja's, they disappeared in a black mist.

Finding his strength, Ethan left Allison and Olivia's grasp to run across the room to his brother. At the same time, Olivia went over to Derek, helping him up from the floor and wrapping an arm around his torso to keep him upright.

"What the hell were those things?" Scott asked, looking around the room for any answer.

None of them knew...except maybe Allison and Isaac.

Isaac stepped forward, glancing at Allison. "Your dad's twenty-four hours are up."

(Gif is not mine)

#teen wolf rewrite #stiles stilinski x oc #stiles stilinksi x reader #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski fanfiction #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles stilinski x original character

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bakutae · 5 years ago

Text

bnha headcanons #3

today’s menu:

shigaraki tomura with a splash of kaminari denki and a dash of hitoshi shinso

scenario:

where a kid comes up and proposes to you in front of him

shigaraki tomura

you and shigaraki were out together on a quick date that day as he promised to take you out on one before bed the day before

you were elated, since shigaraki was usually busy with villain things, and the one time you got to spend with him was during evenings and nights since he promised to at least have a meal and sleep next to you everyday

you were holding on to shigaraki’s arm tightly, not wanting to let go as you two walked on the streets

he wears his usual plain red sneakers, black pants which exposes his ankles, and a matching long-sleeved v-neck shirt

he is also clad in plain black jacket over the top, the hood pulled low over his face, the other of his disembodied hands in his pocket

you stopped, and readjusted the hood to where you could see his eyes and he flinched, clearly not used to seeing much light in the city

you could see the hesitation and self consciousness as he frantically tried to pull his hood back but you aren’t going to allow that

you pressed a chaste kiss to his chapped lips as you tucked one of the hairs falling to his face behind his ear affectionately

before you could say anything that would potentially make the shigaraki tomura blush, you felt a tap on your hips, which took you by surprise as you quickly turned around

you saw a little boy, that looked around five years old, with the prettiest big eyes and a white daisy in his hand

a smile played gently on your lips as you ripped your gaze away from shigaraki and bent down in front of the boy

‘m-miss, i think you’re really pretty! i want to m-marry you in the future! please say y-yes!’

he said with such a cute accent you felt a squeal escape from your lips as you caressed the boy’s cheeks in your hands

you heard shigaraki growl from behind you and mutter ‘can i just turn him to dust already’

you stood up and pressed shigaraki’s arm to your chest as you turned to look at the young boy

‘hm, sorry though i already have a boyfriend here and i think he would turn red if i married you instead’

you said in a teasing voice, staring pointedly at shigaraki as the boy looked shocked

‘woahh your boyfriend can turn red? is that his quirk? that’s so coooool!’ he said it in such an innocent way that you dropped down to squish him again

shigaraki clicked his tongue and stretched his arms out

‘my quirk’s not turning red but i sure as hell can show you what it is’

you slapped his hand away in a hurry, not wanting an innocent kid like him to vanish into dust

your hand held shigaraki’s gently, careful to not let his pinky touch you

‘w-well kid, i’ll see you again and maybe in a few years time i’ll accept your confession’ you said, trying to get the kid away before shigaraki actually tries to kill the child

you would have thought the kid won the lottery; his eyes shimmered with joy and he ran away quickly

shigaraki was in a foul mood, you could tell

but you had all the time in the world to show him how much you loved him

and that you did, as you ran a hand through his beautiful hair, smiling warmly at him

kaminari denki

you and denki were doing a quick grocery shopping as denki wanted to make that dalgona coffee that was getting all the hype online but you didn’t have the ingredients, therefore the grocery shopping

you and him were pushing the supermarket trolley around

okay, maybe the basket would have been sufficient but where’s the fun in that?

you were deciding whether to buy the gold coffee powder or the regular coffee powder as denki tried to look for sugar a few rows away from you

you felt a quick tap on your side breast and you jumped

‘denki! we’re in publi-’

it wasn’t denki, instead it was a small boy, with a packet of milk in his hand

denki heard you say his name and he came over, but stopped when he saw you with the boy, his hear warming up evidently at the sight

he decided to stand at the edge to watch the interaction between you and the young child

‘i wanna marry you! please accept my milk as a ring because mummy said i’m not allowed to get a ring yet’

he said, pouting, thrusting a carton of japanese milk in your hands

you were taken aback, you thought the boy was here because he had lost his mother but you didn’t expect him to propose to you

denki heard it and almost came to rush into the scene and claim you as his, but he was curious as to how you would react to the situation and resisted the urge to approach you

a smile crawled onto your lips as you blushed, despite yourself and you bent down slightly to meet his gaze

‘i’m really sorry. but i already have a boyfriend and i love him very very much’

denki blushed upon hearing your words and he couldn’t help but smile

a woman came rushing at you and pulled the boy away from you

‘yuzuru, what are you doing to this poor lady? oh my gosh i’m so sorry, he’s always confessing to random girls everywhere with his milk. i hope he didn’t bother you too much!’

you smiled, as you glanced down at the boy, who was blushing furiously

‘oh it was nothing, it was really cute’

the woman bows furiously and dragged the boy with her, seemingly scolding him on the way

denki walked to you and you gasped

‘denki, you were there all along?’

he smiled and nodded, ‘you love me very very much, huh y/n?’

your heart pounded in your chest and you hit his chest gently

‘shut up denki’

he never really did shut up about how you gushed about him to a stranger, which resulted in you red-faced in embarrassment and him laughing loudly and being a public nuisance

but it was true

you did love kaminari denki; and you loved him very very much

hitoshi shinso

you bumped into shinso when you were walking home from an outing with your friends

he claimed that it was a coincidence but you and i both know that it is cause he missed you a lot ;)

you were very happy to see him, and you hugged him the moment you saw him, which caused him to be caught off guard and his eyes widened

your friends were with you then, but when they saw the hearts appearing from on top of both your heads they did a full one-eighty turn and left

yes, you did love your friends, but shinso was more important to you, and you loved him more

he cleared his throat and he was about to start talking when he suddenly stopped and looked at something behind you

you were curious, and tilted your head to stare at him questioningly, as he mouthed at you to look behind you

and so you did

there was a boy, who looked around eleven or twelve, walking towards you with a plastic pink ring; the kinds you got in a birthday party goodie bag on your friend’s fifth birthday

you raised an eyebrow, and looked behind you

but there was no one behind you, and the boy looked like he was staring at you

you felt anxiety seep into your bloodstream as you looked behind you; shinso was as equally confused as you

you hated these awkward moments where you didn’t know who the other party was trying to talk to

however, you were taken aback when the boy stopped in front of you and went down on one knee

‘miss, i saw you from down the street and you’re very attractive. please marry-’

you witnessed the poor boy’s eyes turn to white prior to his black ones as he stood up without saying anything and walked backwards, in a straight line

your eyes widened as you noticed a light pole that the boy was going to run into and you frantically tugged at shinso’s sleeves

‘shinso! make him turn or something! he’s going to hit the pole! s-shinso please! i’m pretty sure what he did was just a prank!’

a smile played on his lips as he huffed

‘well he should have thought of that when he first even tried to propose to you, prank or not. i should be the one doing so for real, not him’

‘bong!’

taglist: @bnha-homeroom

#shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tomura x reader #kaminari denki #kaminari denki x reader #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou hitoshi x reader #bnha fic #bnha fluff #bnha #boku no hero academia #boku no hero imagines #boku no hero headcanons

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socksracoon10 · 4 years ago

Text

𝗕𝗲𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗧𝘄𝗼 𝗙𝗶𝗿𝗲𝘀

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: 𝙒𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙚𝙭-𝙬𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙚𝙩 𝙪𝙥...

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘩𝘢𝘮 𝘹 𝘍!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Warnings: Angst, a little bit of violence and stint of Hannigram.

(A/N: I don’t know what I’ve been doing, but this does coincide with 𝗧𝘄𝗼 𝗦𝗶𝗱𝗲𝘀 and it is in the same timeline, so it’s not like a prequel or sequel but it’s in the same storyline that I’ve created for the next few Will Graham fics! I know I have a lot of other stories to plan/write but I’m in such a mood to write Will Graham lmao, he’s my baby boi and I love him a lot-)

Word Count: 1724

“It’s been quite a long time, Will...” Her voice thundered through the small room. He had straightened his posture, almost daring to look at her. If his eyes caught hold of her figure, he would have to drop his purpose in life and he wasn’t ready to be wrapped around her finger. His hand engulfed the small glass of wine into his palm; (Y/N) nearly waited for it to explode, sending the shards flying onto the floor. He stayed there, breathing deeply to calm his nerves down.

“You do realize that you aren’t supposed to be here, right?” He turned to face her, watching intently as she simply raised an eyebrow. She scrunched up her face in thought, almost mocking Will. There was this deep silence that flooded the room, spare the sound of her heels as she walked closer to him. He stiffened, expecting her to lash out on him; but, instead she reached out for her own glass of wine, purposely bumping into him on her way. He inhaled her scent, enchanted by the fact that she still smelled like comfort. The same scent that he used to wrap himself in during the night, hoping that it would at least get him an hour of some good sleep. She turned slightly to face him, her face inches away from his. It hurt her that Will didn’t view her the same way anymore; she could see it right in his eyes. More silence. She chewed her lip, eyes falling down to his lips and almost instantly, he stepped back. She held back a frown and instead pouted, trying to signal that she wasn’t really affected by this. However, he saw right through her; past her little façade.

“Why are you even here?” Will asked, watching her eyes wander around the room. She was doing it to irritate him and as much as he hated it, it was actually starting annoy him. There was this surge of anger that came rising from his gut and quickly he grabbed her jaw, forcing her to look at him. She smirked, though it made her face look a little weirder since it was squished so tightly.

“You’re a very kinky man, Will...” She commented, a little muffled. His grip tightened forcing her to cry out in pain; she clawed at his hands, desperately trying to get him off her. He merely shoved her back onto a couch, nearly toppling it along with her.

“You didn’t answer my question,” He said in a low tone, earning a deadly look from her as she tried to straighten herself. She debated whether or not to saunter her way up to him again, but the memories of what happened a mere second ago allowed her to stay seated firmly. She swallowed, thickly, letting the silence sit in again; presumably to annoy Will.

“Why did you leave?” She asked, quietly. Her voice was so quiet, Will nearly thought he was deaf for a moment. There was this longing that loomed in her eyes, as if she was crying out to him. Pleading for him to take her back, as much as she hated what succeeded after the events of Hannibal’s appointment. It was still etched in her mind, the way Hannibal had taken her to a room that was bare. It suffocated her, though the place was spacious. She knew the psychiatrist was well aware of her mind, and yet it bothered her that he didn’t even think to be considerate to hang at least a pretty picture. There was no comfort to her, spare Will popping in once or twice a day to check in; however, he soon seemed to stop that habit after a month had gone by.

“Answer me,” She hissed, her mind jumping back to reality. Will gazed upon her, blankly, not hesitating to take a sip of his drink. He smacked his lips at the taste of it; no expression being shown on his face. (Y/N) couldn’t help but squirm uneasily in her chair, her eyes drifting down to her heels. It was the uneasy breathing of Will that got her attention; eyes snapping up to meet him.

Will continued staying silent, both of them admiring each other’s eyes. That was what deemed such importance. Eyes. The eyes that had traveled around her when she paced the lonely room. The eyes that were glued to her when she went to visit Alana, only to get hurt by Will. The eyes that were in glass bottles when she made a daring escape from Hannibal’s habitat. The eyes that used to gaze upon her in love as she writhed underneath Will. And lastly, the eyes that now were empty, soulless and unforgiving.

“I left you... because I... I didn’t want you near me,” He finally replied, sounding more harsh than he had intended to. She swallowed her tears, the urge to strangle him so strong; she just wanted to see him die right then and there. He took her happiness, abandoned her in a horrid room, didn’t even try to track her down after she escaped and all the love she had for him were put to waste. She didn’t know whether he meant to say that he wanted to protect her or if he simply didn’t want to be near her at all. Either way, it stung her and she couldn’t control herself anymore. She shot up from her chair, eyes wide as Will did nothing but merely snort to himself.

“You find this entertaining?” She spat, grabbing his collar and yanking him closer to her. His aroma flooded her nose, and she struggled to focus on the task at hand. Oh, how she hated him. She despised him; yet her heart couldn’t stop aching. How she longed to lay beside him in bed, admiring him for hours. She blamed it on Hannibal, he was the reason Will had changed. Not for good, but for the worse. He wasn’t the same anymore and she was distraught by it.

Behind those closed doors was an awaiting Hannibal, who had merely been there for a couple minutes. (Y/N) (L/N) was back, just like he knew she would. He was smart enough to realize that he needn’t go after her, she would come crying back to Will; a bond so true it made him more hungry. Ms. (L/N) was an interesting figure, even having her locked away for observation only provided such little information. She was a reluctant being, the only thing you could deduce from her was that she loved Will. Even when he forbid Will from seeing her, even when he left her deserted in the middle of nowhere, she still loved him. That love was practically radiating off of her and Hannibal had licked his lips at thought of how sweet she must really be. The rising of their voices were filling up the hallway and Hannibal didn’t want to ruin their conversation. He stood outside, patiently, eager to know what other rude words would fall out of (Y/N)’s lips.

“After everything I’ve done for you-” She yelled,

“You’ve done nothing for me!” Will interrupted, his own voice surprising himself. She huffed in response, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. She would’ve said more but there was this eerie feeling that she was being watched by someone. She turned to face the closed doors, squinting slightly to get a better view of the shadow underneath the small slit. Meanwhile, Will had set down his glass. Hannibal was here, he knew it.

Will had 3 options right now. Option 1 was to not do anything and let Hannibal walk in and take control of the matter. Option 2 was to grab (Y/N), pin her down and possibly knock her out which would earn Hannibal and him either a meal or a way to get some information from her. Option 3 was to simply let her go and let her escape again. A part of him genuinely sided with Option 3 and it shocked him. It truly did. The battle between himself began to arise and he took a deep breath in, watching his ex-wife slowly take little steps towards the door. She was distracted; this was a perfect opportunity. His mind was screaming at him and there was nothing else he could do. There was this sudden change in mood around him and he couldn’t stop himself from quickly grabbing onto her, slamming her down to the ground. She squirmed against him, her face squashed against the hard, wooden floor.

“Hannibal!” Will cried out, his eyes fixed straight onto the head of his wife. He wanted to do more, he wanted to suffocate her till she would breathe her last. He wanted to see her head combust and it was too much for him. This... This urge he had was nothing short of madness and it shocked them both that he used to call this woman his everything. She was what kept him from going dark, yet here he was, nearly strangling her to death.

She was choking out words that only sounded like babbles and the doors finally creaked open; the heavy footsteps of Hannibal echoing through her ears. She struggled under Will’s grasp as he tied her arms, securing her legs with some rope as well. Her former lover set her against the side of the couch, getting up for a quick word with Dr. Lecter. Hannibal stared at her, his whole demeanor making her heart race; not in the good way. He smirked, looking down at Will who surprisingly seemed to be eager in receiving an order and the former bent down to capture the latter’s lips with his own.

“What the hell,” (Y/N) exclaimed, watching a man that she hated be with someone she still so strongly desired. She didn’t even know that Will and Hannibal’s relationship had escalated and she squirmed uncomfortable in her spot, watching Hannibal drag out the kiss, purposely.

“What do we do with her?” Will asked, pulling back briefly to catch his breath. Hannibal tilted his head to face her, looking down in what seemed to be a disapproving glare.

“We need some answers of course, but I do intend of making her the main course next week.” He chortled, eliciting a smirk from Will and cry from (Y/N)...

#hannibal fanfiction #hannibal fandom #hannibal fanfic #will graham x reader #will graham x f!reader #will graham x you #hannigram #reader insert fanfiction #reader insert fic #reader insert #socksracoon10 #fanfiction #fanfics #hugh dancy #hugh dancy x reader #hugh dancy character x reader #mads mikkelsen x reader #mads mikkelsen character x reader

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sam-winchesters-lost-shoe · 5 years ago

Text

Day 3: Sam x Reader

Ship: Sam x Reader

Trope: Caught in the rain

Mood: Funny fluff

Words: 1500

(I wasn’t planning on it ending like this but once I started I couldn’t stop😂there are some slight innuendos at the end)

"How long until Dean gets here?" You grumbled and pulled your arms tighter around your body. Sam shook his head and brushed his hair out of his eyes from where the wind had blown it.

"He was supposed to be here 10 minutes ago."

"Do you think something happened to him?" You asked hesitantly. Sam frowned and shrugged, looking down the road for any headlights and frowning when nothing appeared on the horizon.

"All he had to do was burn the bones, it should've been no problem."

Sam was right. It was a 45 minute drive to the cemetery, and it had been almost 4 hours. He had to dig the grave and actually burn the bones, but it still seemed like he should’ve been back by now. He had left you at the victims house to check for a cursed object, but found nothing. Dean said he'd pick you and Sam up when he was done and drive back to the motel, but he still was nowhere to be found. That was when Sam's phone rang.

"Dean?" He hurried to answer his cell phone, holding it up to his ear. He listened for a moment before sighing and pulling the phone away to press a few buttons.

“Hold on let me put you on speaker."

He then held his phone between the two of you so you could both hear. There was a crackling noise from the other end of the line that sounded like Dean was getting interference, but then you realized it was actually flames.

"I just burned the bones. You guys alright?"

"Wait....You just burned them? What took you so long?" You said hurriedly, looking up at Sam in confusion.

"Dean, it's freezing out here!"

Dean sighed from the other end of the line while Sam looked off in the distance. You followed his gaze and saw a few flashes of lightning over the trees, followed by a few low rumbles a second later.

"Sorry guys, I ran into a bit of trouble with the graveyard security, so that took a while. We’re all good now. I've just gotta re-bury the the body and drive back, so we're looking at......2 hours?"

"2 hours? There's a storm rolling in, Dean." Sam argued, but he knew it wouldn't make a difference.

"And we're in the middle of nowhere!" You added.

"Well then either start walking or find somewhere to wait it out. I'll be there in 2 hours." Dean replied and hung up the phone.

"Dean, you son of a-"

Sam was cut off by another roll of thunder, but this one was much closer. It wasn’t long after that the first droplets of rain began to fall.

"Shit." Sam grumbled.

"We have to wait here for 2 hours?" You sighed and blinked through the raindrops.

Sam used his hand to shield his eyes from the rain as the steady stream of rain started to pick up. Within a few minutes, the sprinkle had turned into a downpour. He peered down the road and seemed to see something, then looked over at you.

He watched as you started to shiver from the rainwater running down your back, making a split decision. He flashed you a grin and grabbed your hand.

"Come on."

"Wha-what are we doing?” You asked as your teeth started to chatter. Sam just grinned and shrugged.

“You see that barn up there?” Sam asked and pointed up ahead.

“Yeah?” You replied, not exactly sure what he was getting at. There was a glint in Sam’s eye that you couldn’t quite place, but it still started a little flicker of something in your chest.

“First one there gets to sit shotgun on the ride home!” He called and took off running towards the barn.

“Sam!” You yelled and sprinted after him. A laugh bubbled up within your chest after you chased behind him, almost slipping in the mud a few times but managing to keep up fairly well.

At one point Sam started to lose his feet on the slick ground, and you passed him.

You didn’t have to celebrate however before he caught back up and then passed you. He reached the barn first, slowing to a stop in front of the wooden doors with a wide smile on his face despite the thundering clouds above him.

You caught up a minute later, panting from the effort of running after him despite the fact that he hardly seemed winded.

“Looks like you’re getting a bit rusty, Y/N.” Sam teased and brushed his hair out of his eyes again.

“Shut up! You have freakishly long legs!” You called back and punched him in the shoulder.

It wasn’t a hard punch at all, but it was apparently enough to catch him off guard. His right foot slipped on the mud beneath him and all 6 foot 5 inches of him went tumbling down to the ground. He landed on his butt, the ground beneath him making a squishing noise.

You burst out laughing again, hardly able to catch your breath between chuckles. He just looked ridiculous sprawled in the mud with his hair plastered to his forehead.

“Hey, you could help me up, you know.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” You sassed back.

Sam swept his leg out and managed to knock your own feet out from under you. You landed in the mud next to him, and this time it was his turn to laugh.

“You dick!” You gasped in feigned offense, both of your hands now covered in mud from when you had tried to catch yourself. You wiped them off on your jeans while Sam shook his head and continued to chuckle.

“You started it.”

You didn’t have a good response to that, so you stuck your tongue out at him.

“Wow. Very mature.” Sam rolled his eyes. He slowly pushed himself up onto his feet, making sure that he was steady before offering a hand to you. You took it and he helped pull you up.

“Dean is never going to let us into the impala, you know that, right?” Sam pointed out.

“Well it’s his own fault that we were stuck in the rain, so he can deal with it.” You shrugged, looking down at your dirt stained clothing.

After you both tried to wipe as much of the mud off of you as you could, you checked the barn to make sure it was as abandoned as it looked. It was completely desolate, so Sam pulled out his flashlight and you both went inside.

You were still in a good mood from your race in the rain, but you had to get the boring stuff out of the way first. After a quick glance around the barn to make sure there was no foxes or anything taking shelter inside, you started to strip off your outer layers of clothing so they could start to dry. You both peeled off your jackets and flannels, laying them over a banister a bit while you warmed yourselves up.

When you were both wearing nothing but a t-shirt and jeans, you decided to check the time. You frowned slightly, looking up at Sam.

“We still have about an hour and a half to kill.”

“Really?” Sam asked. His hair was still soaking wet, and he shook his head to dry drying it off a bit. It always made you smile when he did that. You and Dean joked all the time about Sam being a dog, shedding long hair everywhere and giving you his puppy-dog eyes when he wanted attention. Any time he shook his head like that, it only solidified your point.

His eyes met yours and he noticed your grin, letting out a small sigh.

“So, what should we do with our 90 minutes of alone time?”

“Well, lucky for me, being in abandoned barns is my favorite way to pass time.” You teased innocently. Sam raised an eyebrow in response, stepping forward close enough to wrap his arms around your back.

“Really? What a coincidence. Abandoned barns are my favorite place, too.” Sam played along. He bent down to press a quick kiss to your lips with a smile, knowing full well what he was initiating.

“Now we just need to think of some activities to keep us occupied.”

Damn him.

There were many things that you could say about Sam, but none of them seemed to properly explain how he made you felt. It was like your heart was melting and racing at the same time. He knew exactly what you were thinking, and he planned on taking full advantage of it. His shirt stuck to his shoulders and chest from the rain and his hair was beginning to curl slightly at the ends from being wet. The lightning illuminating the room every now and then lit up his face, and after being in the cold rain for so long the warmth from his body was incredibly comforting.

Let’s just say you had a lot of ideas about how to pass the time.

#sam winchester #supernatural #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester one shot #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural one shot #sam winchester fluff #sam fucking winchester #sammy #sam #sam x reader

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chequeredwhitpost · 5 years ago

Photo

🏰💙Protective💙🏰

(Douxie X Oc ) `````````````````````````````````````

“You can be SO stupid, you know?!” I shout, directing my anger at Douxie.

This is another fight. And it’s not a pretty one either. Started over how Douxie wasn’t paying any attention and spilled some enchanted copper I had set aside into my latest brew. And, what do ya know? It. Exploded. And melted. And sizzled. And did SO much damage to the Apprentice Study Hall!

“Don’t call me stupid!! You’re the one who never tidies up!!”

“What does that have to do with smarts?!”

“Tidiness!! It has to do with tidiness!!”

I scoff, pushing the broom into his hands.

“Whatever. I’m leaving. And I suggest if you don’t want a black eye, you don’t follow me.”

“Wait, hold on, where are you going?”

“Why do you care?” I snip.

“Who says I do?”

I glare at him and make way for the door.

“Courtyard. Now leave me alone.”

I walk out of the hall and head outside.

`````````````````````````

I have to admit. It’s a beautiful day. Too bad it got squished out with that fight, now having zero significance to me. I sigh, leaning up against the wall of the well. The courtyard is bustling and people are passing by. I can't help but notice a pair of friends walk by, paying no attention to me whatsoever. I sigh. Why do we have to fight so much these days? I mean, I know we both have a lot going on--- especially with all of Merlin’s assignments--- but still. And ever since that … girl has become Morgana’s Handmaiden, we’ve been seeing a lot of her. Correction: Douxie has been seeing a lot of her.

What was her name again? Rylee? Riar? Oh, right. Her name’s Rose. Miss small and innocent never leaves Doux’s side, it seems. I sigh, realizing that I may just be a tad jealous.

“If you don’t mind me asking, but what’s a cute dame like you doing out here, all alone?”

I look up and see a handsome looking lad in knight’s armor, staring right at me with a common smile-- the casanova smile. I mentally groan and smack myself upside the head.

‘Maybe coming out here wasn’t such a good idea after all….’

“My gorgeous? If you could answer, I would much appreciate it.”

Ugh…

“It’s nothing. I just needed to get some air today, that’s all.”

“What a coincidence! I happen to be in the same boat! Mind if I keep you company?” He winks at me.

I try not to gag. “Uh, no.”

My abrupt answer --- and rejection--- takes him back a bit. I quickly go to recover.

“I mean-- uh-- No thank you, good squire! I was just heading home anyways.”

“Hmm. Well, I can walk you home if you like?”

He takes a step closer to me, narrowing his eyes and smiling.

“No thank you.” I play it pretty… for now.

“But I insist!”

He takes a hold of my hand and tries to pull me along. I snatch myself free of his grasp.

“I said, no thank you!” I shout,

By now people are starting to look. “Now, my sweet, don’t make a scene…”

“I’m not your anything! Now you’re going to let me leave or else things are about to get ---”

“Or what? You’ll kick me in the shin?”

I glare at him,

“Try where the sun don’t shine.”

I give a sturdy kick to his groin. He doubles over in pain.

“Why you little--- agh! You’ll pay for that!!”

“Humph!!”

I turn to leave but he forces himself to stand up. The squire takes my wrist and grabs me harshly.

“I was trying to be a gentleman, but clearly that approach isn’t working.”

As I start to fear the worst, I turn my head away. But his grasp on my wrist suddenly lets go. I look over and see the squire laying in the dirt, a good five feet away from me. And guess… who’s come to my rescue…

“Doux?” I utter.

He turns to me with a worried expression.

“Are you alright,love?” He asks, cupping my cheek with his hand.

He gently turns my head, checking for injury. But I’m caught on the term he used to refer to me with.

‘Love.’

Douxie looks at my wrist and sees a slight bruise forming.

“Son of a…”

Douxie turns to face the squire with a nasty scowl on his face. The squire stands up-- somehow-- and meets Douxie’s gaze.

“You listen here, got it? If I EVER catch you near my friend again, you’ll be in for more than a bruising. Understand?”

His tone is dark and serious-- so much so that it sends a chill down my nerves. The squire opens his mouth to reject, but is cut off.

“I mean it! I’ll show you what wrath really looks like! So. Stay. Away.”

The squire gulps, and nods.

“Better.”

Douxie turns to me and wraps a protective arm around my shoulders.

“Come on, Vin. Let’s go.”

I hum in response and we leave.

````````````````````````

Back at the Apprentice Study Hall, the both of us sit in silence, staring out the window.

I feel bad. Guilty even. Even after all those nasty things I said to him, he still came to help me… I’m such a bad---

“I’m sorry. For not paying attention and ruining your potion.” Doux says suddenly.

“What?”

“You were right. I don’t pay that much attention.”

“No, Douxie, I should be the one apologizing. I went too far, I was just being stubborn and jealous!”

“Jealous? Of who?”

Shit…

“Uh, d-did I say ‘jealous’? What I meant was, um, overzeal..ous?”

I let out a great big sigh.

“Yeah. OK, I meant jealous.”

Douxie turns to me and holds out his hands. I put mine in his, feeling comforted by the gesture.

“Who are you jealous of?”

“Does it matter?”

“...Yes.”

I look into his eyes and instantly cave in. So full of sadness and at the same time, intrigued. It makes me curious.

“That girl. Morgana’s new handmaiden.”

He chuckles, “Rose?”

I shrink.

Douxie smiles ever so lightly and leans a little closer, but now much.

“You think I have eyes for Rose?”

“...”

“Of all the people I know, why her?” He clicks his tongue and bends over to meet my gaze, as it is fixed on the ground.

“I actually find it hard to believe that you haven't noticed yet.”

I grip his hands a bit tighter.

“Noticed what?”

“That .. I have eyes… for you.”

My jaw drops.

“For… ME?”

He nods, blushing brightly.

He quickly leans in and places a kiss on my cheek. Which completely stuns me.

So he continues to talk.

“Vin, all these years and you’ve always been there for me-- who else was I going to fall for? You have helped me. You have made me laugh. Shown me a great trueness to what it means to be friends.”

He lowers his head and huffs a content breath.

“So now… I ask you something that is very important to me.”

“A.. ask away.” I say, voice hushed.

“Will you… be mine?”

I can’t believe my ears. Is this really happening? In the flesh, like literally reality??

Douxie smiles mischievously and pinches me.

“Ow! Hey, Doux!!”

He laughs,

“Just making sure you knew.”

He squeezes my hands.

“But seriously. Be mine?”

I hum an devious note.

“Weeelll,”

“Heh. Cheeky,”

I giggle, “Yes. I’d love to.”

As the sun sets out the window, we lean in and close the gap between us, in a soft, and forgiving kiss.

`````````````````````````````````````````````````

Thanks for reading.

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shedreamsofstars · 5 years ago

Text

our union is a secret i’m hoping, dreaming, lying to keep - chapter five

you’ve all heard of ‘pretending to be married when you’re not’, now get ready for ‘actually married but pretending you’re not’

When Tohru and Kyo accidentally find themselves married, they must keep their new union a secret from their friends and family. That’s easier said than done when you’re both newlywed dorks who just want to spend some quality time with one another whilst said friends and family are always one step away from discovering the truth.

Start from the beginning | Previous chapter | Next chapter

[fair warning, if you haven't already finished the series there are major spoilers from this point onwards so please tread carefully <3]

The heat bore down in simmering waves as Tohru and Kyo made their way down the boardwalk hand in hand, Tohru's sandals clacking against the wood with every dainty step as she worked on finishing her ice cream.

Kyo had ordered her multiple scoops after she'd been unable to choose between flavours. He himself had gotten a simple vanilla for himself, but unlike Tohru he had finished his within minutes.

The pair were quiet as they passed between the beach and cliffs, taking in the beautiful scenery around them - although Kyo was a little more distracted with his own thoughts to appreciate them to their full extent.

The last time he'd tried to voice the thoughts circling in his mind to Tohru, he'd clamped up and lost his nerve. But as his gaze shifted to the roiling waves in the sea beyond, the same thoughts pushed against the fringes of his mind, searching for a way out towards freedom.

He glanced towards Tohru as if she could hear the words in his mind, but she was too engrossed in her ice cream to notice his turmoil.

At least for now.

The girl had an uncanny ability to know when something was up with him, and if he didn't work up the courage to speak soon, she'd notice something was wrong. So with an inconspicuous inhale, he squeezed his girl's fingers and she turned to him with wide eyes that almost held an ethereal glow in the daylight sun.

"The last time we were here," he started slowly, trying to feel out the words before they left his mouth. "It was when I first realised how I felt about you, the first time I let myself even think about you as anything other than just you."

His gaze shifted back to the sea, the rise and fall of the water settling his spiking nerves. He could feel Tohru's eyes on him, but if he wanted to get his words out he couldn't be looking at her.

"At the time, I never thought …" He swallowed the uncomfortable lump in his throat. "I never thought I'd ever be back here again, but I was happy. I was happy that my first and last time would get to be with you because I finally knew that-"

He stopped as he heard a sniffle from beside him, turning to see Tohru with melted ice cream dripping down her fingers and tears streaming down her cheeks. He let out a strangled sound of surprise before rushing to wipe at her tears and stare helplessly at her sticky fingers.

"Uh, I'm sorry Tohru. I shouldn't have said any of that. You're supposed to be having a good time on your honeymoon and I'm just upsetting you instead."

"No," she said with a shake of her head, her voice light and watery. "I'm not sad at all. I'm so happy right now. I'm so happy that you're sharing all of this with me."

"You are?" he said, surprised by her response. "Hey, you're gonna … the ice cream …" he started, sighing in defeat as she wrapped her arms around him. "Oh what does it matter," he finished, giving in and squishing her back.

"I'm so happy, but you didn't finish what you were saying."

"I didn't? I … forgot what I was saying," he said with a frown, unable to recall anything beside Tohru's tear stained face.

"You said you finally knew. What did you know?"

"Oh, that." Tohru pulled away and looked up at him expectantly. "It was nothing," he said instinctively, even though he did want to tell her the truth.

"It wasn't nothing Kyo," she pushed gently, staring up at him with red rimmed eyes.

"Yeah … you're right. It took some thinking, and a fight with Akito, for me to realise that I loved you. I loved you so much that I couldn't hold onto you if I wanted you to be happy."

She was silent a moment. "So … you were going to let me go."

"Yeah, I was. I guess coming back here the way we have it's made me a little nostalgic or whatever. It might be a little ironic and even selfish, but I'm so glad you never gave up on me the way I was prepared to give up on you."

She placed her head gently against his chest, a little hiccup sob escaping her as she did so. "Tohru …" he comforted gently as he moved a hand from the small of her back to rest on her head. "I forget you're such a cry baby sometimes."

When Tohru finally let him go, he felt a lot lighter and free – as if the words he'd confessed to her had held a real weight in his soul. They weren't gone completely, he could still feel some sort of pull deep inside him, but he definitely wasn't carrying the burden alone anymore.

It only took a moment for his wife to notice the streaks of coloured ice cream on his shirt, and she tittered incoherent words Kyo could only assume were apologies as she threw the remainder of her sweet treat in the nearest bin.

"It's alright Tohru," he said, trying to dodge her as she returned and attempted to swat as his shirt. "It's not like it won't wash out or anything."

She huffed as she caught nothing but empty air, and Kyo took the small respite in her attacks to sweep in and capture her hands. "Home?" he suggested, leaning in to nudge her cheek with his nose.

"Sure, let's go," she sighed, her voice soft and breezy as she began to tug him along.

By the time they reached the beach house, the dusky evening light was the only thing illuminating them in the courtyard. Tohru was still holding on to his hand, but it didn't take much to slip out of her grip.

She looked alarmed for a second before his hands slipped around her waist and he spun her around with childish glee. Her laughter echoed warmly within in him, and before he knew what he was doing Kyo was smiling against Tohru's lips as she sighed into his kiss.

"Well, would you just look at the two of you clinging to each other like newlyweds. Isn't that just adorable?"

The two of them jumped apart guiltily as the familiar voice broke through their haze of serenity. Kyo was still holding Tohru by the waist. He pulled her closer without thinking as his gaze shifted to the front of the house.

The door stood open and standing there backlit in a halo of golden light stood probably the last person Kyo would want to bump into out here.

"Shigure," he grumbled, unable to hide his annoyance at seeing the man. "What are you doing here?"

"I was actually talking to Tori this morning - although he may describe it more as bothering - and he might have mentioned you and Tohru were here on an impromptu visit. Anyway, long story short, I was inspired and decided I too really miss the beach and so here I am."

"So you just showed up to be an annoyance," Kyo bristled, tamping down his anger the moment he felt Tohru's light touch against his sleeve.

"It's such a wonderful surprise to see you Shigure-san," she smiled.

"Thank you Tohru. It's nice to see that at least one person appreciates my presence," Shigure said, flashing a pointed look at Kyo who only growled in response. "Well, better hurry it up. Akito's inside getting the table ready for dinner. We've been waiting on the two of you to return for quite some time," he said, waving them towards the door before heading back inside alone.

Kyo and Tohru lingered in the courtyard, watching each other in quiet contemplation as they heard Shigure's footsteps fade away. "Man, I hate that guy," the former grumbled the moment he was sure the older man was out of ear shot. "Why does he have to show up and ruin everything?"

"What a strange coincidence that we're here at the same time again though," Tohru commented thoughtfully. "And with Akito too."

"It's not a coincidence, it's deliberate – Shigure basically outright admitted it. That guy just loves to get on my nerves!"

Tohru placed her hands on Kyo's cheeks, pinching them gently. "You're so cute when you're mad," she said with a giggle.

Kyo flushed instantly, his face heating up so quickly he was sure that Tohru would be able to feel the change. He was about to pull away when her face dropped and a fearful "Oh!" fell from her lips.

His embarrassment vanished instantly at her small sound of alarm and he found his own hands clasping her shoulders in an effort to remind her that he was there, he was hers.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"Akito and Shigure, they'll see my ring!"

Kyo relaxed a little. "Is that all?"

"I have to take it off, but my dress … it doesn't have pockets."

"I could always keep a hold of it?" he offered. "I've got plenty of pockets."

Tohru smiled kindly but shook her head, letting her fingers drop to his shoulders and rest flat against his chest. "Thank you, but that feels too much like returning it to you," she explained.

"Okay, we'll just figure something else out," Kyo said as he leaned down and pressed his forehead with hers. "You just want it near enough to know it's there, right?"

"Yes," she replied slowly, attempting to nod but settling for a nondescript movement of her head instead.

"I think I have an idea that might work. Hold still, okay."

With that, Kyo stood up straight. Before Tohru knew what was happening, or could even object, Kyo had tugged at one her hair ribbons hard enough to untie it. One half of her hair fell past her shoulders like a waterfall of silk and Kyo ran his fingers through it before doing the same to the other side.

Her two ribbons trailed along his fingers and he deftly slipped one into his pocket. "I'm gonna need you to turn around," he said, giving Tohru a gentle shove to encourage her to spin.

With the ribbon still in his hand, he lightly pulled the top section of her hair back into a half-up do and tied the ribbon securely. It wasn't as pretty as she'd tied it before, but it was vaguely bow shaped, so he deemed it passable.

"Hey, can you pass your ring to me?" he asked, pulling the second ribbon back out. He slid the gold band along the soft material before draping it across her neck and tying it off at the back.

She lifted a slender hand to touch the ring that hung at her neck and smiled widely as she glanced backwards over her shoulder at Kyo. "Kyo-kun, this is wonderful. I love it," she said, her eyes glittering with what he suspected were unshed tears.

"You're welcome." He dropped his head and pressed a quick kiss against the tender skin at the back of her neck, relishing in the small squeak she let out before spinning to face him. "It looks great, but it's all pointless if you don't tuck it into your dress."

"Oh," Tohru said softly, as if only just realising the fact, and he found himself sighing at how easy it was to distract her. It was endearing, but he also couldn't help but worry over her.

"How's that?" she asked as she tucked it in.

Her dress hid her ring fairly well. Kyo could just about make out the outline of it against the top of her chest, and it wasn't noticeable unless he really knew to look for it. It would work fine at keeping Shigure and Akito from figuring things out too quickly.

And if Shigure did somehow notice it, well then he'd have to answer to Kyo's fists since he would have to have been staring intently at Tohru to do so. It would be even more deserved since he'd have been shamelessly looking at his girl when his own was right there.

"Kyo," Tohru said, bringing his attention back to her. "How does it look?" she asked again, but Kyo wasn't talking about the ring when he spoke next.

"Perfect."

Her honeyed gaze locked onto his and he couldn't bring himself to look away, wondering if it was possible to see someone's feelings as clearly as he felt his were showing right then. He leaned in towards her, but the creak of the door had him straightening up stiffly instead.

He turned towards it, ready to yell at Shigure to wait a little longer, but the words died in his throat as he took in the smaller figure in the doorway. Akito, her dark hair sleek and straight as it brushed against the tips of her shoulders stood leaning against the door.

Her face was blank as she scrutinised him, but he didn't miss the small quirk of her lip as she spotted Tohru in his arms and that alone was enough for him to be okay with her presence.

"If you two are done canoodling out here, dinner's ready. There's …" she paused thoughtfully, "some things I'd like to talk to you about." This last part was clearly addressed at Tohru, and she smiled widely as she slipped out of Kyo's embrace and rushed towards the door.

"Akito!" she squeaked excitedly as she pulled her in for a hug. The other girl stood there reluctantly at first before slowly but surely returning the gesture.

"We're sorry for taking so long. Let's go inside," Tohru said, grabbing Akito's hand as she led her inside. Kyo followed behind the two of them, pausing to hover in the doorway a moment.

The cool night air brushed against his warm skin as he let out a wistful sigh. This was going to be an unexpectedly interesting evening.

... xxx ...

thanks so much for reading! let me know your thoughts if you can, and apologies for the delay (it's been a rough month so i've not really had the time or motivation to write unfortunately but everyone's comments have been so kind) hopefully the next update will be sooner (fingers crossed) <3

#kyoru #kyoru fanfiction #fruits basket #fruits basket fanfiction #our union is a secret i'm hoping dreaming lying to keep #i hope it's not too rushed and terrible

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lotusss-flowerbomb · 5 years ago

Text

What’s Done In The Dark

Summary: Viktor spots you from across the room.

dark!Viktor Drago x reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, dub/non con, so if this isn’t your cup of tea please do not continue.

A/N: This story has two endings. Enjoy!

Word Count: 2,573

********

The music thumped loudly throughout the club. At first, you didn’t want to be bothered with going out, but it was your best friend’s birthday and she wouldn’t stop whining about how you never wanted to do anything with her. So you sucked it up, got dressed and now one fruity drink and three shots of tequila later you’re dancing on top of a table with a pole in the middle of the nightclub.

You made your ass bounce to the beat as you rapped along with the song. Happy that you’d chosen to wear the looser dress, so that the on lookers could get the full effect. Your best friend reached out to smack your ass while she loudly encouraged you to continue. A man walked over and stood near the small crowed. He caught your attention immediately since he was probably the largest person in the place. He was tall, sexy and the muscles beneath his shirt let you know that he works out regularly. You put on a bit more of a show for him. Expertly popping one cheek at a time as you turned towards him and looked back to make sure he was watching.

He was definitely watching.

Once the song was over, he stuck his hand out to help you down. You accepted it as he cradled you in his arms and lightly set you on your feet. You smiled, thanked him and walked towards some tables behind your friend. She saw a few people she knew and was headed in their direction.

After a few minutes of listening to them talk you headed towards the bar bored with the conversation. Not long after you approached you saw him again.

“Hi,” he spoke with a thick accent.

“Hi,” you said back.

The bartender came over and handed him two drinks. One with dark brown liquor and the other was bright orange and red with fruit in it.

“For you,” he stuck his hand out. You hesitated before taking it. It was a Sex on the Beach. The drink you’d had earlier.

“Thank you,” you grabbed the drink out of his hand, but didn’t have any.

“I’m Viktor,” he offered his hand with his name. You smiled at him and introduced yourself with the handshake. Here you are in the middle of a club and this guy shakes your hand after buying you a drink instead of immediately trying to put his hand up your dress.

“Where are you from, Viktor?” You asked and take a sip of the drink. It tasted a little different than the one you’d had when you first got there. Maybe the bartender did something different this time around; added more liquor or something. It still tastes good though. So you continued to sip.

“I am from the Ukraine. I’m here on business,” he smiled.

The two of you made light conversation for a few more minutes until the room suddenly started getting warmer. You shifted in your seat a little uncomfortable at the sudden temperature change. You finished your drink hoping the coolness would help, but it didn’t. it was only getting worse.

“Well, thank you for the drink Viktor. I should be getting back to my friend and make sure she isn’t getting into any trouble.” Once again, he held out his hand to help you down.

“It was nice talking to you,” he said.

“You too,” you tried to get away without seeming rude, but fuck was it hot. You heard Viktor’s voice again and it almost sounded like he said he’d see you later, but whatever you were going home. Too much body heat in this place.

You found your friend still gathered with the other group of people. You told her you were ready to head out, but she wasn’t, so she asked one of them to drive her home. They readily agreed, so you said your goodbye and made your way to the door. The valet retrieved your car and you went about your way after tipping him.

You were doing your best to concentrate on getting home instead of how hot you were getting by the second. The drive back to your townhouse was only ten minutes, but it felt more like ten hours with the way your insides were burning up. You let down all of the windows and cranked on the air. So busy trying not to melt that you hadn't even noticed the black SUV that had been trailing you.

Finally home, you pulled into your designated spot, grabbed your purse and jumped out. You were walking so fast that you stumbled on the curb, but before you could lose your balance too much a pair of strong arms embraced you.

"Viktor?" You looked up at him confused. "Did you follow me here?"

"No, I have friends who live just up the way," he pointed. You looked in the direction and saw people standing around outside. Must've been a party he was headed to.

"Oh, coincidence I guess," you let out a small laugh before pulling away from him.

"Are you okay?" He sounded genuinely concerned about you, but the look in his eyes betrayed his voice. The hazel green of them glinted with mischief beneath the street lights.

"I'm fine, I just need to get inside." You all but stumbled away. You dropped your keys when you were almost to the door.

"Here, let me help," he scooped them up.

Why the fuck was he still so close? You eyed him.

"That last drink I got you must've really packed a punch, huh?" He said as he pushed the door open and pulled you inside.

"What did you do? Did you put something in my drink?" You snatched away. Your back hit the wall and you welcomed the cool sensation it offered.

"I mean, I may have used a little too much, but to be fair I didn't think you'd actually finish the drink." He rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged.

"What did you give me? Why am I so damn hot?" You wiped at your forehead expecting it to be drenched with sweat.

Now your pussy was starting to throb. No longer caring that he was there, you stuck your hand beneath your dress and felt yourself. The seat of your underwear was soaked. You glared up at him.

"Viktor, please," you put your hand up as he started towards you.

"It's okay, beautiful. I'm only going to help it go away.”

He turned you and unzipped your dress. No bra, just a delicate light pink lacy thong. He trailed a finger starting at the back of your neck, between your shoulder blades to the band of your underwear. He hooked his finger in and let go with a loud pop. He pushed the dress from your shoulders and let the fabric bunch at your feet.

"Why?"

"Come on, let's get you to bed," he pulled you up the stairs and completely ignored your question.

You planted your feet in the carpet outside of the bedroom door. He yanked you along until you reached the bed. The throbbing sensation in your pussy was becoming more intense. You couldn't resist the urge to touch yourself.

"Mmm, can't wait for me?" He watched you.

"What the fuck did you give me? It's starting to hurt!" You rubbed yourself.

He removed his shirt. Perfect muscles rippled across his body as he continued to stand and watch you.

Feet on the bed, back arched and panties pushed to side while you rubbed your clit. He licked his lips in anticipation. He couldn't wait to get a taste of you.

His own erection became uncomfortable as it pressed against his jeans, so he quietly finished undressing as to not disturb you. He left the black tight fitting boxer briefs on and pulled his dick through the hole to slowly stroke it.

Your back started to arch more as your rubbing sped up. The first orgasm, that's what he'd been waiting for. Your breathing became heavier and louder as you melted from your core. The orgasm only bringing you minimal relief. You needed more, so you kept on rubbing spreading your slick all around.

He couldn't resist anymore. Instead of bringing the thong past your hips, he grabbed the wet crotch and ripped it leaving the rest around your waist.

He pulled you right to the edge. You lifted up on your elbows to look him in his eyes. He cracked his neck just before sucking your clit into his mouth.

A hissing sound escaped your lips. You tried your best to remain still as his tongue moved over your needy nub. It was useless. You rolled your hips into his face and could hear him moaning and slurping.

An involuntary, "Yes," slipped between your lips as he slid a finger inside of you. You could feel the fire building within. The realization snapping you back to reality. You shouldn't be enjoying this. He'd drugged you.

You scooted away. That clearly annoyed him and he pulled you back towards him and flipped the bottom half of your body into the air. He slapped your thigh hard enough to make you scream. He roughly entered you with two fingers this time.

His fingers pumped at a furious pace in and out of you. He sucked your clit into his mouth again and moved his tongue over fast. You grabbed onto the comforter and screamed again as you started to squirt onto his face.

Viktor opened his mouth and invited in every last drop he could catch. He let you go, so you lay back flat on the bed. He hovered over you and slapped your face lightly and tapped on your lips. You tried to turn your head, so he grabbed you and squished your cheeks, so your lips would part. He let the cum drip from his mouth into yours.

He sat you up. "Spit it out slowly," he demanded.

You let your bottom lip fall slightly and the mixture of cum and his spit dripped down in between your breasts. He licked it up and brought his mouth to yours for a sloppy kiss. You kissed him furiously, because still that orgasm was not enough. You needed more.

He palmed his pulsing tool and rubbed it up and down over your slit. You raised your hips to try and make him enter you but he pulled away. You reached down and dug your nails into his side to bring him closer. He obliged the silent command and pushed the tip of his dick into you and stopped.

"Viktor," you exhaled.

"Tell me you want it," he nipped at your collarbone. You stayed silent, but raised your hips again. He moved away, causing a soft sob from you. "Say it," he full on bit you this time.

"Ah! Fuck, I want it! I need it, please! " You croaked.

He turned you over and pulled you up to your knees. He spread your legs apart and pushed your chest to the mattress. He slapped his dick on your clit and you rewarded him with a loud moan.

He slid inside of you slowly. Rolling his hips to a slow steady rhythm. You pushed your ass back into him. This slow shit was torture.

"If you're gonna fuck me then fucking do it," you said with an attitude tired of his games.

He paused his movements and then slid out of you. You let out a frustrated groan at his sudden absence. But before you could miss him too much he was ramming back into you.

"Is this what you want?" He asked. He said something else in Russian that you didn't understand. You gripped the sheets as he gave you the best dick you've ever had in your life.

He hooked the material around your waist around his fingers to keep his hand in place as he pressed his thumb to your puckered hole.

"Oh god, yes!" Your screams were muffled since your face was pressed into the bed.

He fucked into you so fast and hard, the headboard was knocking loudly into the wall. That was no doubt going to cause some damage.

He pulled out of you and jiggled your ass. He hit it with a hard slap and then leaned in to get another taste of your pussy. He spread your ass, so he could gain entry to your waiting canal. He slid his tongue over your pussy and sucked it loudly. The lewd sounds only increasing your arousal.

He stuck his tongue inside of you and used it to fuck you with. You shook your ass in his face and the vibration from his moans coursed through your body. He was enjoying pleasuring you just as much as you were enjoying being pleasured.

He turned you over and spread your thighs apart and pushing your knees to your chest. You watched him as he stuck his tongue out and let the spit drip down onto your pussy. He moved it back and forth, so that it would ribbon all over. His actions were disgusting and flat out vulgar. Yet, it turned you on even more.

You clawed at his boxer briefs, but slapped your hand away.

"Take. Them. Off." You demanded.

He hesitated for a moment before complying with your command. He got back into place and put one of your legs over his shoulder. He slapped his dick against your clit again before entering you.

He rocked his hips back and forth as he bottomed out inside of you. He placed one hand underneath you and the other beside your head as he brought his mouth to your neglected nipples. He flicked his tongue over the pebbled peaks alternating between licking and sucking.

You dug your nails into him and clawed from his back and down across his chest. He groaned at the mixture of pain and pleasure, but you could see the annoyance in his eyes, because that was for sure going to leave a mark.

"You want to mark me?" He said, just before he placed one hand underneath you and the other around your throat and squeezed lightly.

You squealed with pleasure as your legs started to shake and pussy tightened around him. You dug your nails into his arm as your orgasm neared and his grip became tighter. You bucked your hips against him as the sensation rained over you. He fucked you harder, so you could ride out your release. You were finally feeling better with that final orgasm out of your system.

His hips began to stutter letting you know that he was close to his own release.

"I'm gonna mark you too," he said when he leaned close into you.

"Viktor, I'm not on birth control, you have to pull out." You began to push against his hips once you realized he had no intention to do so. "Viktor!"

He grabbed your hands and put them above your head as he growled deep and emptied his seed inside of you. He dropped on top of you careful not to put too much weight on you. You tried to push him off, but there was no point.

You might as well try to move a building.

He breathed into your throat hard and heavy.

"Just imagine. You'll look so beautiful carrying our child."

********

Dark Ending

Fluffy Ending

#viktor drago x reader #viktor x reader #florian munteanu #florian munteanu x reader #Smut #dark!viktor x reader #Lotusss Writes

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