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countrymusiclover · 1 year ago

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47 - Proper Family Meeting

( gif belongs to respective owners, I don't own it )

Part 48

Gemini Runaway

Three updates in a day again and almost to 50 chapters I can't believe it 😁

Tag list ask to be added @dragonixfrye @secretdreamlandmentality

It had been a few days since we had met the mysterious sister named Freya that claimed to be their long lost sibling. Rolling out of the bed early this morning I shrugged on one of Nik’s shirts and some ripped jeans. Walking down the stairs I saw Nik in the room with the girls. “Morning Rae, how did you sleep this time?”

“Still not good, unfortunately. I don’t know how but I can’t get her nightmares out of my mind.” Slumping my shoulders in a heavy huff I throw my head back still terrified to think that this mysterious woman would come after Hope.

Missy was playing with a chess piece sucking on it in her mouth when he rose to his feet taking it before she choked on the object. “I could attempt to sort of compel the nightmares away from you.”

“It wouldn’t work though. I am still part witch, remember. Regardless of you being an original hybrid.” I reminded him by raising a brow at him.

He set the chess piece down on the table taking my hands in his rubbing his thumbs over my palms. “Yes, that's true. But I am also your sire, Raelyn. You have to do whatever I say if I use the power. That is one more advantage of being a vampire.”

“But you won’t do it. I know you, Niklaus.” I pointed out tilting my head to the side.

“Grah!” We heard someone make a noise before we turned our heads and saw Alina with her hand raised up using her other hand to siphon Hope who was standing. The cheese piece that he had moved was floating into the air and dropped back into Missy’s lap seeing that she was about to cry.

Knitting my brows at them I glanced out the corner of my eyes to Nik. “Well that’s going to be a problem when they get older….sweetie no siphoning your sister - ugh!”

“Alina!” Nik raised his voice at his middle daughter when he watched me try to take the toy from Missy who whined. She grabbed my elbow, siphoning me where I drew my hand back.

Rubbing my elbow I looked back at him rising to my feet. “It’s okay, Nik. I’m fine. Now I know how it feels. We can let her keep it so long as she doesn’t choke on it.”

“She still shouldn’t hurt you or her sister’s for that matter.” He wraps his arms around my waist tugging me into his chest kissing me before whispering down to me. “I’ll snatch it from her when our three princesses are fast asleep, don't worry.”

Leaning up on my toes I kissed him slowly moving my arms around his neck. He leaned down bending his knees until I jumped up wrapping my legs around his waist. “We should get away from young minds if we keep this up. Don’t want to traumatize them.”

“Then we mustn’t waste another moment, Raelyn.” He vamped me back into our shared room with me landing on my back throwing my hair around before he kissed me again.

Running my hands up his chest I was seconds from ripping his shirt deepening the kiss until I heard Elijah calling our names from the other room. “Raelyn, Niklaus!”

“Ignore him. He’s just here to swindle tales of the fake sister I should trust.” He grumbled tilting my chin back to his when I glanced toward the door that was opened.

Shaking my head at him I agreed with him. I didn’t want to trust someone who could be toying with my mind throughout the night. “I’ve been thinking if we need to remind her that we don’t trust her. I could always do the flare for the dramatic like you do when you say I’m the Hybrid…cause it’s rather hot sometimes.”

“Ah, that's my girl. You’re finally seeing that you are a Queen fit for a King. And this city shall be ours forever.” He leans down, crashing his lips down onto mine feeling me smirk into the kiss.

Someone vamped into the doorway when he was about to tear my shirt and it was Elijah. “Brother, Raelyn. May we please talk before you make love throughout the entire compound.”

“Elijah, can’t you see we are busy!” I grumbled when Nik growled, flashing me the werewolf eyes where I kissed him tugging on the curls starting to make them a mess.

The original vampire spoke again. “I can see that, Raelyn. But I assumed you would wish to know that Rebekah is here and she needs help. The new body that she took over is now fighting back against her. So I have requested Freya’s help.”

“Brother, get out of here or I’ll dagger you!” Nik threatened him looking over his shoulder at his older brother.

The tux wearing vampire didn’t budge and said something that finally got our attention. “Freya is meeting her nieces.”

“What now!” Klaus and I both jumped up vamping past him and into the living room.

Raising my hand up I created a fireball in my hand with my fangs dropping down in my mouth stomping into the room halting in my tracks after what I saw before my eyes. “I’ll burn you if you don’t get your ass out of this house this instant…oh my gosh.”

Freya was down on her knees in front of our three girls. Missy was attempting to get to her feet beside her sister Hope. And Alina was playing with Freya’s long hair but untemanrly they were perfectly fine being with her like that. “I’m sorry but I couldn’t resist meeting them while Elijah went to go get you two. I could only sense one of your daughters' magic. So I am stunned that there are actually three of them.”

"Well don't get too attached. Now why exactly is she here Rebekah?' I crossed my arms over my chest putting out the flame in my hand.

She explains simply to me. "The witch is still fighting to regain their body. So that's why Elijah called her."

Klaus interrupts our conversation standing beside me throwing his hands up. "Have you lost your mind? Tell me we're not considering opening our sister's head to someone we barely know."

Rebekah shouted in frustration. "Nik, for God's sake, she is our sister. I've know it since she saved me from the fauline cottage."

"An act no doubt meant to secure your trust, perhaps for this very moment, to strike when we are vulnerable." Rebekah scowls at Klaus, but he shakes his head. "No. We've no way to prove that anything she said today is true."

Elijah sighs. "Niklaus, I understand your concern. Both of us are powerless to help our sister. Now either we leave Rebekah to suffer, or we place our faith in the hands of someone I believe to be our blood. Right now, I'm inclined to give the benefit of the doubt to family."

"You needn't worry. Elijah explained the problem, and I can help.' Freya got to her feet.

Nik mutters loudly 'Rather confident, aren't we?"

Freya turns to look at him, partly amused and partly confused. "The spirit of the host body is powerful, but I can cast a spell, .. put you in a deep sleep, and then suppress this other essence. You'll be just fine."

Rebekah was nervous and I could hear her heartbeat inside her chest. "Lovely. When do we start?"

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me. She spouts off some magical diagnosis, and we are all supposed to applaud." Nik sat down at the bar pouring me and himself a glass of blood throwing his head back with a grumbling breath.

Rebekah was annoyed at him. "Nik, she's trying to help."

"Yes, but for the sake of keeping our options open, why not write down your spells and incantations? That way, we can have them double-checked by an impartial third party, say Davina. She'd love to prove me wrong." Nik slammed his glass down on the counter top raising his voice towards her. "I'd rather trust Raelyn than any other bloody witch on this entire earth because I have seen her magic!"

Freya eyes me clearly offended. "I doubt she would understand my magic, let alone have the power to execute it."

"Debatable I think not!" Nik raised his tone towards her. "She's the strongest witch I have ever seen."

Gripping the glass in my hand I was tempted to shatter it completely. "I can handle more power then you have ever seen, Freya. I dropped all the Originals on their knees. I consumed your mother Esther’s dark magic and didn't die. I put a hex curse on a werewolf's mother. My uncle wanted me to become the leader of our Coven and I didn't die when I consumed his power. Finally I am searching for a way to stop my Coven curse where twins compete in a battle of magical strength. Regardless, the thing you need to know is ... .I'm the Heretic and you can't KILL ME!"

"Bloody hell, siphon queen." Nik mumbled under his breath struggling to not throw her over his shoulder and ravish her right then. He had never been so turned on in his immortal life.

Freya walked over to me where I downed the blood in my glass striding up until we were pressed up against one another. "Regardless of how powerful you haven’t faced Dahlia, Raelyn. I have been raised by her and I am the only one here who can help Rebekah this instant. We can't afford for you or Niklaus to need to tend to one of your children during a spell."

Nik shook his head mockingly sitting back down at the bar. "Oh. So you're our only hope then? Seems rather convenient, doesn't it?"

"I knew it would be difficult to win your trust, Niklaus. Your reputation precedes you…" Nik smiles mockingly at her as she stands and walks toward him. "But if we are to face Dahlia together, you will have to trust me. Given the peril that Rebekah now faces, are you truly incapable of giving me even a chance to prove myself?"

Striding back over to Nik he poured me more blood tugging me up into his lap nuzzling his nose into my neck leaving kisses making me lean and moan into his scent. "Shall we leave the easily swayed alone so I have my way heretic fiancée."

"You are rather tempting but if we left them alone she might snatch our daughters and take them to this Dahlia woman." I draped my arms around his neck kissing him passionately then breaking the kiss showing my fangs to the stranger in our house.

"I know I appear as an outsider, but I have dreamt of you all for a thousand years." Rebekah and Elijah look at each other before turning back to Freya. "Elijah, when you were in Esther's womb, she would ask me to sing to you. I would feel her belly as I did. Heh. How you would kick. She would say, "it was as if Thor himself had raised his hammer"..."

Elijah finishes her sentence. " .. "And summoned thunder and lightning." Mother rarely mentioned you. When she did, she would say how enchanted you were by the prospect of my birth."

Freya grinned at the pair. "How I wanted more brothers and a sister more than anything, but between Esther and Dahlia, that wish was taken from me. I was ruined by those who raised me. If nothing else, at least we have that in common. There is nothing that can replace what was taken from us, but I hope we can make something better in its place. All you have to do is trust me."

Nik vamp-speeds over to her and breaks her neck. Rebekah tries to intervene, but she wasn't fast enough. "Nik!"

He smirks vamping back to me draping an arm over my shoulder, whispering the last part in my ear. "Well, that's enough of that, don't you think? Right. Now we can have a proper family meeting….no one is anything like you. You are the most badass and hottest witch ever, Raelyn." I leaned into his embrace eyeing Freya's unconscious body while we waited for her to supposedly come back to life.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

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theforestghost · 1 month ago

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Okay so I gave this a try with Animated MegOP!

Megatron looked himself over in the mirror one last time. While he was far from a certain seeker in terms of vanity, even he preferred to be well groomed. And this cycle he certainly was; armor polished to a shine and clean of any debris and paint done carefully across his plating. The paint was done up in gladiator style but the pigments far brighter and details done much nicer than anything he had done in the pits. Once satisfied with his appearance, Megatron turned away and went to pick up a bouquet of crystal flora.

Natural fauna on Cybertron was rare, most lost over time to war, industrialization and carelessness. Now most were cultivated in special warehouses and sold to those with enough credits to decorate their towers with them. Of course to Megatron purchasing a bouquet of such rarities was simple and Swindle had made sure that the quality was top tier. The delicate petals were translucent and gave off a blue hue on their own and a rainbow of purples and blues in the right light. They were beautiful and extremely delicate that Megatron had them wrapped with a dense organic mesh to keep his thick digits from breaking them. Megatron left the room, meeting Strika outside the hall who stared at him with a hard optic. Shockwave stood behind her, his single optic locked to the bouquet in his servos.

“You seem to be in a good mood.” Strika commented. They began to make their way down the too small hall, careful to not knock into the decor along it. “You despise gatherings like this.”

“I do, but there is something I am looking forward to.” Megatron mused.

“Something, or some mech?” Strika asked, gesturing towards the bouquet. Megatron gave her a smug smirk.

“My Lord, may I ask, that bouquet…?” Shockwave asked.

“Oh, this?” Megatron held it up carefully. “A surprise.”

Shockwave said nothing but silently hoped that his lord knew what he was doing.

The group finally came to a large door where a door mech introduced them. Stepping inside, the Decepticons were greeted with a large room with high vaulted ceilings dripping in crystals and gold. Numerous Autobots littered the room, speaking with each other, drinking and mingling. Each one was well polished, covered in gems and paint that looked just as gaudy as Megatron remembered from before the war.

Ultra Magnus approached Megatron first, greeting him respectfully with two Primes flanking him. Unlike others, Ultra Magnus only had a military shine, as did the other two. Paint was meant for high caste mechs, not military mechs. Even the Magnus was not exempt from that. Which was exactly why the gladiators had picked up the tradition to paint their armor, to spite the high castes who had kept such a thing to themselves. It had been sloppy and cheaply done but it had been very effective.

“It has been some time since I have seen you with such an appearance.” Ultra Magnus said once all greetings were done.

“This is a special occasion.” Megatron said, eyeing the red and blue Prime to the Magnus’ left.

Optimus Prime caught his optic and Megatron smiled as he quickly looked away sheepishly.

“It seems to be.” Ultra Magnus said, optics focused on the flora in his servos. “I can assume that these are a gift to a mech here?”

“Of course.” Megatron said, turning to Optimus and bowing politely as he offered the bouquet to him. “To the mech who made all of this possible and brought all of Cybertron’s scattered children together.”

Megatron’s words filled the entire room, all optics focused on them as he offered the bouquet to Optimus. The mech was staring at him, optics wide open as he stared at Megatron in disbelief. The warlord watched him with an expectant smile which wavered just slightly as Optimus hesitated to take the bouquet. Was this not a good gift? Was it not good enough? Megatron may not know Autobot etiquette but he certainly didn’t see how this could be offensive. Optimus also didn’t seem upset, just confused and if his flushed faceplate said anything, embarrassed.

After what felt like kliks, Optimus reached out his servos and carefully took the bouquet which was quite large in his grasp, covering his chassis. Megatron purred as he saw Optimus’ shy expression from behind the crystal flora and stood up straight. Optimus held it securely, finials moving rapidly.

After polite conversation, Ultra Magnus made an excuse to move on. Megatron bid them goodbye with a last nod to Optimus before Shockwave caught his attention. Ultra Magnus led the Prime to the side of the building and Optimus followed obediently, his processor still reeling over what had happened. When Magnus stopped and cleared his intake, Optimus finally looked up at his leader who was watching him with a stressed expression.

“Optimus, please explain to me your relationship with Megatron?” Ultra Magnus asked, servos clenched.

Optimus warbled out static in response.

On the other side of the gathering, Shockwave had gotten Megatron into an equally secluded corner with Strika on their heels. Glaring at any Autobot in audial shot to clear out, he turned to Megatron who did not seem entertained at Shockwave’s pushiness.

“My Lord, are you aware of what you just did?” Shockwave asked softly.

“I gave Optimus an amazing gift.” Megatron said easily. He tried looking over his shoulder to spot the mech but could not find him.

Shockwave let out an ex-vent, audials flat. “While yes you did give him a gift that he would never have gotten on his own, you fail to understand the meaning of said gift.” Shockwave said. When Megatron gave him a stare, Shockwave continued. “In Autobot society, you gift a single crystal flora to request courtship. If the other party accepts the flora, the courtship begins. You give a bouquet of crystal flora to request bonding. And if the other accepts…”

Megatron stared at Shockwave for several nano-kliks before he finally ex-vented. “I proposed bonding to Optimus.” He stated.

“Yes.” Shockwave said.

“And he accepted it.” Megatron added.

“Yes.” Shockwave confirmed.

Megatron accepted the engex Strika handed him and downed it in one gulp. “That was not my intention.”

“And let us hope that Optimus Prime will realize that as well. Autobot traditions are not well known amongst Decepticons and I am only knowledgeable due to my time hidden within their society,” Shockwave replied. “He most likely accepted the gift to help you save face. I would suggest speaking with him later this night cycle.”

“I don’t see the problem, didn’t you want to start courting the little mech?” Strika asked, getting another engex for herself.

“Yes, but not like this.” Megatron stated. “I intended to do it privately out of respect for Optimus.”

“Except you proposed bonding in front of not only his leader but also the entire upper caste of Autobot Society.” Strika said with a teasing smirk.

Megatron groaned. “I need to fix this before it becomes a larger problem.”

“Then I would suggest doing it quickly.” Shockwave suggested.

Megatron left the two to find Optimus and Strika looked at Shockwave. “You knew before we got here what that bouquet was.” Strika said.

“I did.” Shockwave stated, “Maybe now Lord Megatron will stop procrastinating on courting Optimus Prime.”

“Sneaky mech.” Strika whistled. “I didn’t know you cared.”

“I care about my Lord being focused on peace talks and not on his poetry.” Shockwave scoffed.

“Whatever you say.” Strika said. From the corner of her optic she saw Megatron guide Optimus to a private room. Well that certainly wouldn’t bring up any more rumors.

Inside the first vacant room he could find Megatron showed Optimus to a plush couch and sat beside him, close enough that if he stretched his leg out enough, he could touch Optimus. The smaller mech was still holding the bouquet as if it was the most precious thing in the world. Far gentler than what Megatron had seen before, even when the Prime was holding the All Spark or when holding that human sparkling in his team. Megatron wanted to reach out and stroke that cheekplate, to hold him carefully.

“Optimus, I must speak with you about the bouquet.” Megatron said carefully.

Optimus lowered it slightly and turned to focus on Megatron. “You didn’t know its meaning?” He asked with a tilt of his helm.

“I am ashamed to admit my ignorance on this.” Megatron felt awkward about this entire situation. Optimus let out a soft chuckle which completely threw Megatron off and the warlord looked down at the smaller mech, seeming offended. “I am currently stressed about this and you are laughing?”

“I may have been caught off guard but I guessed you didn’t understand the meaning of this gift.” Optimus said. “I also know that if you really did want to give me this gift with full understanding, you would not do it in front of the entire Elite Guard, the upper caste and Ultra Magnus.”

“I would never put that pressure on you.” Megatron said quickly.

“I know.” Optimus smiled sweetly, his field fluttering. He carefully touched a crystal petal and they clinked together melodically. “Can I still keep these?”

“Of course!” Megatron said. “They were a gift I chose for you. Even if there were some misunderstandings.”

Optimus nodded and clinked them together again, his audial fins flickering happily. Megatron watched him, enraptured by their movement and the happiness of the mech sitting beside him. He reached out but stopped when Optimus turned his attention towards him again. Optimus met his optics and then leaned in closer, letting his cheekplate rest against the much larger servo and Megatron felt himself relax as he cupped Optimus’s helm.

“Can I take this as a sign you want to court me?” Optimus asked, placing his servo on the back of Megatron’s.

“Only if that is what you wish.” Megatron said.

Optimus placed the bouquet down on the table and leaned closer to Megatron. “I want to.” He said with a shy smile.

Megatron purred and held Optimus’ helm with both servos as he leaned down to kiss him. Optimus met the kiss, his engines revving as he was pulled onto Megatron’s lap. Megatron held him tight, caging Optimus against his chassis. He had his little Prime now and he had no intention of letting him go.

Accidental proposal / courtship but it's Megatron accidentally / unknowingly proposing to Optimus

#transformers animated #transformers #tfa megop #megop #optimus x megatron #maccadam #fanfic

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willowwhispersspeakeasy · 3 years ago

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Oh i just had the best idea ever..

Mc is actually a demon who's friends with Mammon, and knows how bad the taunting and bullying can get with the brothers. Cue mc letting Mammon stay the night(or a day or two) to let this big argument blow over because they know he sees their place as a safe space for him❤️

sorry abt the wait on this lil one shot anon, I hope this is the right amout of hurt/comfort and fluff you wanted

Birds of a Feather

Warnings: gender neutral reader, theft, physical abuse mention, implied that reader is some other bird demon like Mams

words: 800+

the sound of a caw awoke you. rubbing the sleep from your eyes you stumbled up from your bed, taking a peek out of your window. a single crow was perched outside your window. the bird looked at you for a moment, cawing once more before flying off.

you reached your hands above your head to stretch, wandering into your living room to clean off your couch and take out any trash. you needed to prepare for a visiter.

the pounding on your door caused you to jump. placing your lap top down, you unlocked the door and opened it, dragging the demon inside before he could speak.

"h-hey! oi don't tug on me!" Mammon protested, but he followed you anyway, letting you shut the door behind him.

"when was the last time you ate?" you immediately began walking to your kitchen, the demon hot on your heels.

"uhh, like maybe breakfast yesterday?" he pondered, having forgotten his own hunger in his rush to escape his home.

"blood and darkness! Luci didn't let you eat today either?" you growled, already pulling the cup noodles from your pantry and opening it.

"...nope." Mammon was quiet, uncharacteristically so. upon filling the cup with water and popping it in the microwave you turned back to your companion.

Mammon's eyes were trained on the ground, his hands in his pockets. tightening your jaw you took a deep breath, being angry right now won't help. you need to just, be calm, be safe.

"how're you feeling?" you asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. his blue eyes rose to yours, the pools reflecting gold in the lighting.

"like shit." he responded. you raised your other hand slowly, placing it on his cheek. Mammon's eyes fell again, unable to meet your gaze.

"lets get you some food. do you wanna talk about it?" gently you rubbed your thumb over the apple of his cheek. Mammon sighed, leaning into your hand. it was all a rush when suddenly you had the demon in your arms.

Mammon buried his face in your shoulder, arms like a vice around your middle. you cooed to him softly, whispering small words of encouragement into his hair. "you're safe here." "everything's okay." "you did well." "I'm proud of you."

a broken sob was muffled as the arms holding you shook. continuing to shush him softly, you began to hum. the song was soft, something your mother used to sing for you as a fledgling.

Mammon pulled away as the microwave continued beeping. the smell of the cheap ramen filling the small apartment and reminding him just how hungry he truly was.

once Mammon and yourself were fed the pair of you sat down on your couch as he spilled the scenario to you. in an attempt to stop stealing things from his brothers Mammon had instead swindled and stolen a variety of things from a local store, with the intention of selling them. word of this plain made its way to Lucifer, who, displeased, banned Mammon from lunch.

that evening the full extent of the plain is discovered by his brothers, all of whom continued to call him a "scumbag" and all other manor of their usual insults, and Lucifer not only forces Mammon to return and pay for the stolen items but strings him upside down from the ceiling again in cursed chains.

Mammon wasn't able to escape until morning, when the others had left for RAD.

"you spent the whole night like that?!" you shrieked.

"yeah... couldn't feel my toes." he nods.

"...I'm proud of you for getting out of there and coming to me Mammon." you began. "your bothers punishments are cruel and out of line."

Mammon just shook his head.

"nothin' I can do 'bout it." there was no sound of hope in his voice.

"don't go back." you offered. he glanced over at you in surprise.

"yah! I can't do that forever. yaknow that." leaning his head back Mammon ran his hands over his face, his many rings glinting in the low light.

"maybe not forever, but for a while." you offered, watching your companion gently. "stay with me as long as you like Mammon."

"yer to good to me. to nice ta someone like me." your heart ached at his words.

"hey, you sound tired. lets get you to bed." standing you tugged the Demon by his wrist as he groaned. Mammon followed you quietly muttering his protests but never actually moving away.

after changing him into some of the casual clothes he'd abandoned at your place before, you shoved the demon down onto your bed.

"hey! I can just camp on yer couch. don't wanna take yer bed-"

"nope. you are sleeping here. you deserve it. and besides, its not like we haven't slept in the same bed before." you teased, brushing some of the hair out of his eyes.

Mammon's face was warm but he only grumbled in protests further, scooting over so you can crawl under the covers with him.

once you were settled you reached over to your companion, tugging him closer until his head rested on your chest. Mammon's limbs felt stiff and heavy from last night but somehow the warmth enveloping him relaxed him. your hand scratching along his scalp while the other rubbed up and down his back soothed him into a much needed slumber.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me fluff #mammon fluff #obey me mammon #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #gender neutral reader #mammon x mc #obey me fanfic #obey me imagines

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mimi-ya · 3 years ago

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coward ~ portgas d. ace x reader

3,000 words | f!body | nsfw

summary: your life was simple, and you were okay with that

a/n: @athenaportgas my ace queen, i hope you have as much reading as i did writing! and that it gets the stamp of athena approval!

masterlist

Dawn Island was not much.

You’ve never left the island. Never really considered it. You were born here and would probably die here, just like your parents, and grandparents, great grandparents, and so on and so forth.

But you didn’t mind the small island life, too much that is.

Makino was at home resting, morning sickness getting the best of her lately.

You’d manage just fine, the bar was kind of slow anyway. A nasty storm had passed through the other day, meaning no one new had port at the docks yet, and most of the community were at home trying to salvage their damaged roofs or flooded carpet.

You were stacking cups when you heard the door swing open, loud steps echoing in the empty bar, the last occupant having left almost an hour ago.

“I’ll be with you in a minute!” You call over your shoulder, throwing the rag into sink, before turning back to the bar, “What can I get for-” You trail off, jaw dropping to the floor.

A signature smirk splitting his face, “And here I was enjoying the view.”

“Ace?” You come round from behind the bar, not trusting your eyes for what’s in front of you.

“As I live and breathe.” He answers, arms stretched out.

“Holy shit!” You run into his waiting arms, a bright smile and laughter on your lips. He catches you with ease, lifting you off your toes. You can barely wrap your arms around his torso, his body unnaturally warm.

“It’s been a while, (Y/N).”

And it has been. Almost three years since you last saw Portgas D. Ace when he left Dawn Island on a boat that could barely float.

He had been a fixture in your adolescence, trailing after Luffy who was trailing after Makino whenever the duo would find their way into town.

Eventually Ace started ditching Luffy, opting to spend time at the bar trying to swindle Makino out of a drink. After many failed attempts he realized she wouldn’t be serving him, he set his sights on you.

You had just started bussing tables and helping serve drinks and were definitely not looking to get canned within the first month for him, much to Ace’s displeasure. But that never stopped the constant flirting and charm he would lay on you. You suppose he just never gave up until the day he escaped here.

“Can I finally get a drink, or is Makino gonna stop me?”

“Lucky for you, it’s just me today.”

“Oh really?” He raises a brow, and his tone sending a shiver down your spine.

“First one’s on the house.” You smile, returning behind the bar to pull out two glasses. You usually don’t drink on the clock, but with Ace back in town, it’d be a crime not to celebrate.

A few drinks and many laughs later, both you and Ace had your heads pressed against the bar top. You’d never dare if you hadn’t just wiped down the counters yourself.

Ace smiles at you with hooded eyes, “You don’t belong here.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, your cheek smushed against the bar.

“You’re too good for this place.”

You roll your eyes, sitting from your spot to go around the bar, “No wonder Makino never gave you any drinks. You turn into a sap.” Collecting the glasses, you turn around to start scrubbing out the sticky and dry ale.

“I mean it!” Ace all but yells, “You should be out there!”

Your shoulders tense, ignoring his words. They’re starting to sound like the one’s in your head you’ve been so good at pushing down your whole life, “I’m perfectly content right where I am.”

“That’s bullshit! You belong on the sea!”

Your fingers dig into your palm right through the rag, bitterness seeping into your words, “Yeah, well not all of us can just run off and become a pirate.”

“But you could! I’m sure Pops wouldn’t mind one more crew member! Shit, he’s already heard so much about you. And you can meet the rest of the crew, they’re gonna love you! And you can help annoy Marco with me and-”

“That’s enough!” You scream, slamming the glass so hard it shatters, “For fuck’s sake, Ace!” Spinning around to meet his shocked stare, “Not everyone is like you and Luffy! We can’t just take off to the Grand Line without a care in the world!” Your chest is heavy with every breath you take.

Ace just gives you a once over, “I didn’t expect you to be a such coward.”

A gasp escapes your lips, “I’m not a coward!”

He jumps the bar, standing so close to you in the small space, a smirk splitting his face. “Then what are you so afraid of?”

You glare at the wall behind him, “I’m not a coward because I don’t want to be a pirate.” You spit the word like some insult.

But Ace just takes it in stride, hands falling to the counter behind you and caging you in, “You used to eye those pirates who’d come to town with such wonder. Like you had a schoolgirl crush on them.”

“Pfft.” Arms crossed, “As if I’d ever be with a pirate.”

Ace doesn’t give anything away, “But you wanted to be like them.” He leans in closer, lips against your ear, “Going where you want, taking what you want, fucking who you want.”

“You’re such a pig!” You slap his bare chest, momentarily realizing you finally got your fingers on his hard planes of muscles.

Ace backs up against the other side of the bar with a crooked smile, “Nah, just a pirate.”

You huff, crossing your arms again and looking at the ground.

“Hey.” Your eyes meet his, “Tell me what it is.”

It’s the sincerity in his voice and stare that makes you spill, letting out the thoughts you’ve kept locked away for so many years, “Weren’t you afraid you’d fail?”

“’Course I was.” He answers easily.

“I’m serious!”

“And so am I!” Ace shoots back, “You think I wasn’t worried about disappointing Luffy? Or that I’d get cut down before even leaving the East Blue?” You just shrug, “But if I risked that and made it?” Ace’s shoulders fall back and a grin stretches onto his face, “It’s been everything I hoped and dreamed of.”

You’re staring at Ace hungrily, a pit of jealously filling your stomach at the look on his face. God, you want to feel that, you want to become that. The way his energy crackles with electricity. The gait in his step you can only get from surviving a bloodied battle on the seas. That look of wonder of someone who’s see more of the world than most but knows there’s still so much more to be discovered.

“I,” You trail off, “I can’t.”

“You can.” He says earnestly, grabbing hold of your hands, “I can show you, take you all over the Grand Line, and I’ll make sure you see it all.”

“You’d stick with me the whole way?”

Ace scoffs, “You’ve had me since the day I first saw you in this bar.”

Your eyes bulge out of your head, “I have?”

Ace rubs the back of his neck, face turning bright read, “Luffy never said anything?” You just shake your head, still in shock, “Well shit.” He laughs.

You take a step forward, fingertips running along the red spheres tied his neck, “Promise?”

The crooked grin returns to his face, “I’ll be the big bad pirate looking out for you.”

You roll your eyes at his jest, but appreciatively drink in his wide and naked chest, the thick arms with letters engraved on the side, his taught stomach wit shorts hanging dangerously low. “I’d say.” You tease back, “Not the scrawny teen I remember.”

Ace pouts, “I was never scrawny.”

“Pfft, whatever you sa-ahh!” Your sentence cuts off with a scream when your toes lift off the ground, hands gripping under your thighs as your ass hits the bar behind you with glasses tinkling from the disruption.

He wags his eyebrows, “And I’m still not.”

You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, a little afraid you’re going to slip but also enjoying the way your hips burn with the stretch to accommodate him. It’s been way too long since the last cute person wandered into town, forcing you to find satisfaction on your own.

“Is this where you give me a taste of what life on the Grand Line is like.” Your fingers pull on his necklace, bringing him closer, “What was it you said?” A finger taps your chin, “Going wherever, taking whatever, and fucking whoever?”

Ace meets your banter with a deliciously slow roll of his hips, “You tell me. It’s your first day as pirate after all. You gonna take what you want?”

Your eyes search his stare, flicking to and from his lips, back to see his eyes that are now focused on your mouth. Which makes it an easy decision to press your lips to his, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck.

You get a brief moment of control, nipping at his bottom lip. But then he releases your thighs, making you tighten your grip, and one of his hands flies to your back, the other cupping your jaw as he deepens your kiss and pulls you tight against his body. After a bruising kiss, Ace pulls back, “First lesson, pirates fight have to fight for what they want.”

He attacks your neck first, teeth sinking into the sensitive flesh. Your hands fly to his hair as he makes up for it with a gentle lave of the tongue before repeating the process up and down your throat.

“Ace.” It comes out more as a moan, one of your hands flying to the edge of the counter to steady yourself, “Someone might come in.”

He pulls back from your neck with that devilish smile, “Then I’ll just have to be quick.”

A squeak escapes you as he wastes no time falling to his knees and pulling your legs apart and burying his face in your cloth covered cunt, “Ace!”

“C’mon.” He whines, nipping at your exposed thigh, “A true pirate wouldn’t care.”

You chew on your lip, eyes flicking to the door and back. It’s not like anyone can see Ace behind the bar even if they were to come in. Without being able to double guess yourself, you jump off the counter to pull your shorts and undergarments down in one swoop, meeting Ace’s grin with one of your own.

“That’s what I like to see.” And then his face disappears between your legs as he wastes no time licking a stripe right along your slit.

“Oh fuck.” You exhale, hand flying to his head, pushing aside that ugly orange hat of his and digging your fingers into his hair. Ace hums throwing one of your thighs over his shoulder and his hand wrapping around the other.

He’s got you spread and at his mercy as his tongue reaches in you, nose brushing at your clit with every thrust of his tongue. It’s a positively sinful scrape of teeth that has you rolling your hips against his face, trying to take what you need.

Ace moans, sucking your clit into his mouth with a flick of his tongue before releasing it with a smack of lips, “So good for me.” He mutters before going back for another taste, all while groaning in appreciation at your sweet and tangy flavor.

You notice that he eats pussy just as messily as he eats anything else. Wetness smeared on the inside of your thighs, and you’re sure his face must be drenched at this point.

The coil in you is winding tighter and tighter, building to something beautifully intense. His name repeatedly leaving your lips, “Ace, I think I’m gonna cum.” You cry with a foot digging into his back.

The waves are about to crash over you as you feel yourself on the edge. God, if he would just fill you with something, anything at this point. But instead, he pulls back, that infuriating smirk on his face.

“Are you fucking kidding me!” You could cry with how close you were, legs desperately trying to pull him back in. But then a yelp escapes your lips when there’s a brief sensation of heat right where his hands a gripping you. “The fuck!” Quickly pushing him away, hard enough that he falls back against the bar with a laugh, his eyes racking over you.

And you’re quite the sight, chest heaving with little bite marks forming along your neck and on the sweet spots of your thighs. So bare and open for him from the waist down.

But Ace just shrugs, a challenging glint in his eye, “You gotta fight for it.”

Your lips snarl, and you have half a mind to walk out right then and there. But you’re just as wanting as he is, if the bulge in his pants is anything to go by that is.

Ace is all grins when you crouch down in front of him, quick fingers unbuckling his belt and tugging at his pants. He lets you do all the work of working him out of his pants, barely even lifting his ass. The smug bastard can see how desperate you are when you line yourself up over his weeping cock with you own slick drooling as you drag yourself along his shaft.

“Atta girl.” Ace breaths, watching as you impale yourself on him, eyes not once leaving where he’s slowly being buried in your cunt.

“Fuck.” You mutter, feeling him pressing deep and snugly at your furthest point, all while it feels like you’re being split in half. You’re not even sure how it’s possible your hips meet, that you were able to take all of him in one go. A whisper of comfort comes from him while he pets your cheek, trying to quiet your whimpers. But it’s too overwhelming.

“C’mon, that can’t be all you’ve got.” Ace whispers in your ear, nipping at a sensitive spot on your neck. Your hips involuntary rock forward, eliciting a gasp when your clit rubs against his pelvis.

You try to recreate the movement, but it just doesn’t hit the same. Frustrated, your eyes snap to his, “Is that all you’ve got?”

Ace raises a brow, but you just meet his challenged stare with your own defiant one.

A moment later his face splits with a grin, “Alright, but you asked for it.”

A snarky comment is on the tip of your tongue, but not a second sooner is his mouth devouring yours while you’ve been flipped to your back. His hot and thick body pressing into yours and the angle of his cock rubbing against that little spot that has you seeing stars.

His pace is quicker than anything you would have been able to pull off, so you wrap your arms around his neck and hold on as he uses your body for his pleasure.

And he’s ruthless about it, wrapping your legs around his waist and lifting your ass off the sticky bar floor to wreck your tight cunt. Dragging his teeth down your neck, pulling the neckline of your shirt aside so he can get his lips on the tits that have been the stars of his fantasies for many years.

“Ace!” You all but scream when he bites at one of your nipples. There are tears forming in your eyes, being on the tip once again, and god, he better not take this away from you again.

He notices when your movements become a little more desperate, a little sloppier. One of his hands wraps around your shoulders, the other under your ass and he rises to his knees while never stopping his brutal pace.

“That’s it, c’mon, cum for me.” He moans into your shoulder when your fingers dig into his back, undoubtedly leaving little scratches in his skin. And it’s a jarring feeling for you to be solely held up by his strength, to be at his will and mercy.

Fingers scrape up his back to bury in his hair, and you use the opportunity to tug his face towards yours trying to find his lips with your wanting mouth. And then you feel one of his hands sneak around to your clit, running tight circles around the bud with fingers so hot you think you might combust.

He cries out your name when you start to convulse around him, trying to pull you as close as possible while burning you from the inside out when he lets his own pleasure wash over, filling you to the brim with an unnatural warmth you’ve never experienced before.

And his name is a prayer leaving your lips over and over, the aftershocks jolting through you like pleasant waves crashing on a beach.

“Shit.” Ace groans, pulling out from you with a moan as he eases you back on the ground, but you’re too fucked out to really notice, even when he grabs a cloth to wipe down between your legs.

“Mhmmm.” Your eyes flutter closed, “Such a gentlemen.”

Ace grins, peppering kisses along your cheeks, “Thought I lost you there.”

“Not quite.” You answer with a smile and giggle when his lips tickle, “So, pirate expert, how’d I do?”

“Not bad for your first day, but we’ll get you there before you meet the rest of the crew.” He teases, nipping at the underside of your jaw.

“Think they’ll let me join just cause you say so?”

“You help me with this mission I’m on, and they’ll be singing your praise before we even step foot on the Moby Dick.”

His grin is infectious, and the twinkle in his eye stirs excitement in you that you’ve worked so hard to pretend you never needed, “Alright, when do we leave?”

#portgas d. ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d. ace x you #portgas d ace x you #portgas d. ace x y/n #portgas d ace x y/n #ace x reader #ace x you #ace x y/n #op x reader #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #op x you #op x y/n #one piece imagine #op imagine

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hansensgirl · 3 years ago

Text

push it to the limit.

summary. | As he watches you ogle the man who would pop champagne moments before touching heaven, he puts his foot on the gas pedal and his hand on one of the levers, ready to push it to the limit. Maybe this time, you’ll finally notice him.

warnings. | Non/Dubcon, watersports, obsessive behaviour, coercion, bribery, dark themes, drinking (champagne), hate fucking, unprotected sex, rough sex, public sex, dumbification, degradation, dirty talk, humiliation, breeding kink, choking, allusions to anal, reader is really rude (so is Niki), *sexism/misogyny/paying for sex (see a/n), and more. 18+, MINORS DNI.

word count. | 8.4k

pairings. | Dark!Niki Lauda x Reader, James Hunt x Reader (it’s one-sided).

author’s note. | please enjoy, and please don’t forget to reblog! if you take ANY inspiration from my fics (i’ll know, trust me) and you don’t give credit, you will be blocked and i’ll let others know. *he talks about paying you for sex as a way to degrade you, it’s brief and in german! it does not reflect anything about me or my blog. we are pro-sex work here! it’s just fiction.

“Look! There he is!” a small voice tells you, pointing somewhere with a great distance. You’re not sure how he manages to spot his favourite racer from so far. Among the sea of heads, your younger brother sits on your shoulders. You can feel him touching you down to your bones, and you try to ignore the pain just for him. “You sure? You said that five times before, y’know,” you denote, and you hear the six-year-old groan. “Yes, I’m sure! Look, he’s drinking that nasty stuff like always,” he adds, and you realize he’s talking about James’s signature champagne.

“It’s not nasty,” you mumble under your breath, remembering the way the pleasant liquid felt and tasted against your tongue. Sticky gold is what you’d describe it as, and you recall how it stained your skin. Shaky hands are bound to tremor even more under pressure, and your friend is an absolute clutz. It’s no wonder she made such a mess, as it is one of her best traits. But a particular pair of hands that seemed to have Midas’s touch cleaned you up, and you still to this day wish you were awake to thank them. You have many regrets, but that’s just a small one.

“Can we go closer to the fence? I want to try and talk to him,” your brother politely requests, and you let out a heavy sigh. Your mouth is pressed in a line, and you begin to shift your feet. You’ve got boots made of suede, a brown colour that always seems to go best with your all-black outfits. There’s a matching jacket on you as well, and it has fur on the cuffs and collar.

“What’s the marvel of watching it in person rather than watching it on television? Out here, we struggle so much, and you can barely even watch them properly. On the television, well, you see it all, and you can be as comfortable as you want,” you wonder out loud, and the child holds onto you tightly. He squeezes your head tightly, and the ribbon in your hair begins to fall in your face. It’s white silk, with a lovely hem to it. You save it for these races your sibling always wants to go to. Your other coloured ones are left for daily excursions, and sometimes a good party, too.

“Excuse me!” you loudly call out, and other women cast you nasty glares. You’ve seen those same looks one too many times, and you don’t pay any mind to them. If they truly care about their spots, they’d stand up and fight for them. But they’re just like babies with a piece of candy in their tiny fists. Maybe a jellybean, or perhaps even a pack of those oh so enjoyable Sour Patch Kids. “Why do you like only him?” you ask, raising both your eyebrows as you get closer to the fence. “I like James and Niki!” he exclaims loudly, and you loop your fingers between the holes of the fence.

“Niki? As in Niki Lauda? That arrogant, Austrian asshole?” you question in shock, not minding your foul language at all. “Yes! The guy that Dad hates. He’s cool, and he’s fast,” he explains, rolling his eyes. “Honestly? There’s nothing cool about him. He’s just… fast. James is the cool one,” you argue, and you can hear him groaning. “You like James Hunt because he looked at you that one time,” he snaps back in annoyance, and you sigh dreamily in remembrance. “Exactly! Now I need to look for Niki, I wanna say hi to him!” your brother exclaims, and your eyes scan the entrance area for Niki Lauda.

“Don’t just say hi to him; ask him for an autograph! We can sell it to one of his fans afterwards. They’re always dying for anything of his,” you propose, and your brother simply ignores the swindling ways that you’ve inherited from your grandfather since you were a kid. It’s the reason why you tend to find purses with deep pockets and smooth zippers that don’t pinch on the inner fabric. You reach into your bag, and you grab a marker that you’ve always got with you.

The crowd gets louder and louder, almost as if you’ve got headphones on your head and you want to turn down the volume, but you keep hitting the wrong button. A woman shrieks in your left ear, and a man whoops in the other. More bodies press against you, and with the marker in between two of your digits, you hope that you don’t return home with billions of bruises. On the big screen, recaps from the previous races are being played. It’s win after win, all on behalf of Niki Lauda and his incredible luck that doesn’t seem to have any end.

You’re finally able to make out what people are screaming; the curly-haired man’s name. “Niki! I love you!” they all shout, and you wonder if any of them like James. It seems like you haven’t found your people, and maybe just for today, you’re the odd one out. “Seems like you’re not the only one that has Niki amongst their favourites,” you grumble, and your brother lets out a giggle. A few moments later, he sits up far more proper on your shoulders. The hand with the marker in it grabs onto one of his legs, and you make sure he doesn’t fall down and ends up being the true loser of this race.

“Niki! I’m your biggest fan!” he shouts at the top of his lungs, using his full voice and then some. You look over to the entrance, and you spot the brooding Austrian wrapped in red walking out with a deep frown on his face. You fight the urge to roll your eyes, but your brother doesn’t care about your deep annoyance towards his idol. Niki shoots a look over to where you’re both standing, and your brother waves his arms from side to side, trying to get the racer’s attention. Even if he doesn’t, you have a feeling that Niki will be more displeased than anything.

It only makes sense, as he always acts that way with his fans though they’re the only people who appreciate him.

His nose is upturned, and he tries to pinpoint your brother and his powerful screams. High-pitched yet so loud, it’s no wonder why his tantrums are the root for almost all household headaches. “He’s looking over here,” you tell him, and your brother nods. “Yeah, because of me! He’s going to come, and I’m going to meet him!” he squeals, somehow connecting none existent dots to fuel a form of hope that dwindles inside him. You can be mean, but you’re not cruel. So you won’t be a realist, and you’ll let the youth on your shoulders believe what he wants to think.

“And when you meet him, ask him to sign something,” you advise, not letting go of your chance to make a few hundred dollars. He doesn’t say anything, but you know he’s pondering whether or not he should do it. “Niki! I love you!” the woman next to you screams as if she’s using every bit of her energy to get him to notice her. Your head already starts to ache just a bit, and you wish you brought some form of a pain killer. Niki saunters over to the fence, and for some reason, you don’t feel proper behind the fence.

It’s the way he carries himself with the highest of heads, a sort of confidence dragging with his every step. He knows he can do anything right now, and everybody except you would love him for it. He could make an entire turn and not greet his fans, and they’ll laugh it off. You’ve witnessed his haughtiness, and there’s no doubt inside you that you’ll see it again. “Niki! Good luck on the race!” a person says, and the rest of the crowd laughs at them.

“Dude, he doesn’t need your luck,” someone next to them says before elbowing the poor fan’s ribs. You can hear them wince in pain before they start to scream at the racer once again. Niki raises his hands up to his chest, almost as if he’s surrendering to something. That bratty smirk of his is replaced by a cheerful smile, and while everyone adores it, you see right through the façade. “Hello, everyone!” he greets, and you already want to roll your eyes until they fall back into your skull.

Niki stands right in front of you, and you try to look somewhere other than his face. Your view darts wildly until you finally settle on looking at the exceptionally boring asphalt underneath your feet. The screaming quiets down, and you wonder if everything is okay. “Uhm, Mr. Niki Lauda? I love you! I’m such a big fan! I watch all of your races, and I try to go to them all! Can I have an autograph?” your brother gleefully expresses, and you snap your head up at his words.

Much to your dismay, you lock gazes with the man you hate most in this entire stadium. His eyes are rather dull, yet they’ve got a sort of darkness in them that makes you feel just a tad bit uneasy. Both begrudgingly and excitedly, you hand the marker to your brother, who, in turn, gives it to his idol. Niki takes it gratefully, and he raises his least dominant hand. The other fans try to reach for it, for him. But he ignores them, and he gives a high-five to your brother.

You can’t hear the sound of their palms meeting because the displeasure of the crowd drowns it all out. “What do you want me to write it on?” Niki questions, taking the cap off of the marker. “Uhm, my shirt?” he offers, stretching the red fabric towards the elder. You observe as the racer awkwardly signs his name on your brother’s clothing, and you know that your Mother is going to be more than angry. Your Father, on the other hand, will be filled with pride and excitement.

“Thank you so much!” the child squeals, and Niki simply waves his hand as if it was no big deal to him. But you know that deep down inside, he was probably a bit annoyed. “Do you want an autograph, Miss?” Niki asks, and you take note of how his demeanour has changed. His features are softer, and his eyes seem to be lit up. “Oh, uh, no, thank you. I’m waiting for James. I love him a lot,” you tell him, pushing your shoulders back in confidence. The people around you let out gasps, and they follow their sounds up with whispers that aren’t so hushed.

Niki’s face drops, and you give him your fakest smile. He stares at you, almost as if he wants to lash out and scream. Maybe even call you a name or two. “That’s alright,” he assures after a while, and you have the urge to say something snarky. He hands the marker back to your brother, who is too busy being in awe of his favourite racer to listen to you being on your worst behaviour. Niki walks off, but this time, his stride lacks his boldness. “He’s so cool!” your brother squeals, staring at the Sharpie. You sigh, knowing that you two will constantly butt heads over Niki.

“Well, I beg to disagree.”

“Niki! Is everything okay?” one of the mechanics asks, and the star nods his head mindlessly. Instead of pressing him for some sort of answer, he leaves Niki alone to mull all by himself. There is not one person who dares to talk to him before the race unless it has to do with the car or the competition itself. It’s out of pure fear because nobody likes to face the Austrian’s wrath. From screaming way too loudly to piercing, uncomfortable stares, he never knows how to properly communicate with others.

He gazes at you from just a few mere metres away. His eyes are like ice, and he hopes you can feel the coldness from where you are. He really fucking hopes you do. You’ve got that sultry look to you, and it’s not cast towards him. No, it isn’t at all, and it irks him all the way to his bones. You ogle James fucking Hunt. Of all the other inferior racers there, you choose to admire James, and Niki hates you both for that. At every single race, he’s seen you show up to, you never look at him.

You don’t acknowledge him at all. It doesn't just hurt his ego; it also breaks his heart. Your preference and love for the Englishman injure those butterflies inside Niki’s stomach, and yet they still continue to flutter. The funniest, most ironic part of everything is that the races you attend always end with Niki being the winner. Never James. But you still idolize him over the Austrian, and he’s tired of it.

“Make sure it goes fast, okay? Fast, but nothing should catch on fire or malfunction,” Niki tells his technicians, and they halt what they’re doing. “But, Sir-” one of them starts, and Niki closes his fist for them. “No,” he simply states before crossing his arms once again. Niki looks back over to you, and you’ve now got a smile on your face. He loves the sight, but he knows his adoration will turn sour in a few seconds once he follows your line of gaze. So he chooses not to, and he decides to use you as his motivation.

The racers all go to their cars, and they pull their helmets on. Some are dressed in black, some in white, and only two in red. James and Niki. Niki is surrounded by his team, and James has twice the number of people next to him. Along with mechanics are girls in short skirts with jackets similar to yours. Deep down, you wish you could switch places with one of them, but maybe it isn’t as good as it seems to be. Perhaps your spot behind the fence with your younger sibling is what’s meant for you.

Your neck is more than exhausted. Your shoulders have a unique pain to them, one that not even doctors can begin to describe. Your bones are in desperate need of a crack, and your muscles crave a lengthy stretch that’ll leave you shaking. Yet, you continue to stand there with no complaints ready to fly off your tongue. The whooping behind you is so loud, but you’ve gotten used to it. “C’mon, Niki! You can do it!” your brother cries out, clapping his hands in excitement.

Niki flashes a thumbs up, and he looks at you one last time. As he watches you ogle the man who would pop champagne moments before touching heaven, he puts his foot on the gas pedal and his hand on one of the levers, ready to push it to the limit. Maybe this time, you’ll finally notice him. Perhaps this time, you’ll realize he’s the best racer there is. He takes a deep breath, and he reassures himself that he’ll win as always.

“I have a feeling Niki is going to win this one,” the lady next to you says, and her friends nod their heads in utter agreement. You want to ask why she thinks that, but you’ve already left a bad taste in the crowd’s mouth. “Do you think Niki will win?” you ask your brother, looking up at him as best as you can. “I think so, but maybe James will surprise us!” he predicts, and you nod your head. “I hope James wins,” you whisper under your breath. Your bottom lip falls victim to your teeth, and you gnaw on it out of stress.

You keep your sights on James, and occasionally, you glance at Niki. Perhaps it’s simply just morbid curiosity that’s eating at you because there’s no way you’d just casually look at a man you despise with all your heart. As all the racers go to their designated spots in their cars, excitement fills your stomach. But it’s mixed with fear, as anything can go wrong at these tracks, and that’s the last thing you want to happen. You get lost in your thoughts, thinking about all possibilities.

Who will win? Who will get hurt? Who will get angry? Who will become sad? You ask yourself all these questions that don’t truly matter much to your life, and yet you still try to find an answer inside of you.

Suddenly, the sound of engines revving and then taking off fills your ears. Screams follow them up, and you realize that the race has started. You wait until every single car leaves your view before looking at the scoreboard. You can’t bear to watch them risk their lives while you stand not so comfortably yet safe behind a fence. “Oh my God! James is in the first place!” you squeal like a kid in a candy store, and your brother claps.

Some of the people around you cheer for James, and others for Niki. But you ignore them, and you simply focus on what the orangish-yellow neon lights say. Some names switch spots rapidly, perhaps too quickly for you to keep up with. But you stay trained on the upper two; I. HUN, II. LAU. The former stays on top for most of the race, and the latter switches with him every now and then. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” you nervously mumble, hoping that the Englishman stays on top.

“Seems like your favourite is going to win,” the known lady cleverly smirks, and you give her the side-eye. “Yes, because he’s good at what he does,” you confidently agree, hoping that you won’t have to eat your words in the next few minutes. She chuckles before shaking her head. “No wonder you don’t like Niki Lauda,” she expresses, shaking her head practically in some form of awe. “What are you talking about?” you annoyingly press, already growing tired of whatever conversation she’s trying to make.

“You’re both egotistical and full of yourselves. You do it because that’s who you are, and Niki does it for his own reasons, like pure enjoyment. It’s so obvious for you to dislike him because he’s a reflection of you, and you hate that,” she states, proud of herself for whatever reasons. “That’s dumb, and so are you. He does it because that’s who he is. I do it because I don’t like some people—such as yourself—and because I have plenty of reasons to be prideful. Not egotistical,” you snap, and she raises her hands as if she’s surrendering.

“Sure, whatever you say.”

Your mood has turned absolutely irritable, and the bitterness has claimed you entirely. You realize that you haven’t checked the places since before speaking to the lady, and you get excited. Flicking your head up, you expect to have your preferred person’s name at the very top, but instead, you see the name of the one and only Niki Lauda. I. LAU, II. HUN. “No, no, no!” you panic, watching as James stays in second place. None of the names change places at all, and you find yourself to be absolutely crushed. “Yes, yes, yes!” the crowd cheers and your face has fallen in disappointment.

Niki’s name gets announced, and everyone is absolutely elated. Everyone apart from you. Your brother celebrates the win from his high spot, and everybody jumps for joy. You stay silent, and you try your hardest to not swallow your pride. Each driver gets out of their cars slowly, and they congratulate the Austrian with smiles on their faces. You stare at him callously before you notice that James is still grinning. Despite not winning entirely, he never actually lost. So there’s no reason for you to be so dull and gloomy.

He walks off with his posse of men and women, and you realize maybe it’s time for you to head home as well. “So, your favourite won,” you say to your brother, and he giggles. “Yep! And yours lost!” he jokes, and you let out a forced giggle. “Yeah, yeah,” you brush off, making your way through the energetic body of people you strongly dislike.

Niki is engulfed in overly suffocating hugs. Some hands shake him, and some even slap him on the back, not so lightly. He doesn’t know which pairs belong to which bodies, and yet he goes with them all anyway. “You did great, Niki!” one voice praises. “Yeah, great job, Niki!” another adds. He thanks everybody in one sentence, and he pulls away once they start to mingle amongst themselves. The fantastic win of his isn’t what’s on his mind. It’s the thing that’s been etched and burned into his brain for him to think about, even though it should be appreciated now.

No. You’re what’s on Niki’s mind, and he has no intention of letting you leave.

He looks over at the swarm of heads that may have drowned you, and he can’t find you there. Not one trace of you is left behind, and his blood boils. Do you truly hate him to the point where you can’t even stay back for a few more seconds? Niki swears in Austrian under his breath, and he frustratingly walks over to the crowd. Fingers that aren’t yours reach out for him, and he ignores them all. “Have any of you seen that woman with the little boy on her shoulders?” he angrily questions, cracking his knuckles in anticipation.

His heart is still clamouring wildly in his chest, practically beating against him to be let out. “Uhm, she just left… She went that way! But I could easily replace her if you want…” a woman flirts, and Niki completely ignores her words after he gets what he wants. He leaves abruptly, and they are still yelling after him. “So eine verdammte Schlampe. Ich kann es kaum erwarten, dir eine Lektion zu erteilen, du hast darum gebettelt, seit ich dich gesehen habe,” he grumbles, walking through the crowded entrance.

Niki emerges with perseverance and even more anger than before. He searches through the sea of racing enthusiasts, and he spots you being bent over. It’s a wildly lewd position for you to be in, and Niki finds himself feeling flushed and displeased at the way you let others leer at you. He should be the only one to see you that way, nobody else. The Austrian wants to storm his way to you, to grab you and drag you somewhere more private so that he can put you in your place, but he knows the current setting isn’t right.

“Uhm, Mr. Lauda? Would you like a drink in honour of your win? It’ll be on us!” a shy waitress offers, appearing out of nowhere. He jumps in fear, but he quickly calms down. “Well…” he ponders, even though he’s not a fan of drinking after a race. In a trice, the lightbulb in his brain goes off. It shines brightly, and a clever idea starts to nag him. “Do you, uh, mind doing me a favour? I’ll even pay you extra,” he quickly prompts, and the waitress smirks. “Sure!” she agrees, carefully balancing the glasses on her tray.

“I need you to take all these glasses—maybe add some more champagne and make sure they’re really full—to that person over there,” he instructs, pointing to where you are. He watches as you wave to your family, who drives off without you. “The one with the brown jacket?” she double checks, and he nods in assurance. “Yeah, that one. Take them to her, and tell her they’re from someone who adores her and her love for champagne quite a bit,” Niki directs while trying to hold in a villain-like laugh.

“Ok! Then I just leave?” she asks, tilting her head innocently. “Yes. And don’t mention my name or anything about me at all,” he adds quickly before placing a hundred-dollar bill on the tray. The waitress slips it into her pocket before walking to where you’re standing idly. Niki watches the innocent worker make her way towards you until he realizes he should hide away before she makes a mistake.

“Excuse me, ma’am? Hi, I have something for you,” a waitress tells you, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “I- What? I never ordered anything, I think you have the wrong person,” you tell her, turning your back and facing elsewhere. “No! I have the right person. They said they’re someone who adores you and your love for champagne!” she gleefully clarifies, and only one person comes to mind. James. You let out an excited, eager gasp. One that can’t be rivalled by any of Niki’s fans from his win.

She hands you the two full glasses, and you can just tell that the golden liquid is of high quality. You get drunk quickly, perhaps a little too easily. But that’s never stopped you from enjoying yourself at all. “Thank you so much! Oh, and I’m sorry for being rude at first,” you softly whisper to her, and she simply waves you away. “No worries,” she reassures, and she walks off before you can finish your first glass.

Tilting your head back, you bring the first flute to your mouth and you down everything it has to offer in just a few gulps. The drink slides down your throat with such ease. It’s brut, and it has a sort of bitter yet sweet taste to it. Sighing, you smack your lips and take whatever is left of the first glass gratefully. You then switch the glasses around with shaky yet skillful hands. “Thank you, James, for being such a lovely guy,” you murmur to yourself, dragging out the last letters of each word.

The alcohol quickly settles inside you, and it starts to distort you as always. Blurry eyes and a hazy mind, you’ve turned into a drunken mess in a matter of a few seconds. You slowly sip on your second and last glass before your temptations grow tired of your sluggishness. You down the entire thing until there’s a small drop at the bottom that just won’t budge. You let out a tiny sound of amazement, and you find yourself wanting to have some more. You lick your lips, trying to search for a slight hint of the sort of melon flavour until it goes away.

“Uhm? Does anyone know where that waitress went?” you ask loudly, and those who hear you shake their heads ‘no.’ “Damn,” you frustratingly mutter, lightly stomping your foot against the concrete. You roll your head backwards, in both a stretch and a habit. Your mind feels heavy, but your bones and muscles are even more burdensome. You bring your skull back to its normal position, and you decide to go look for her. Stumbling clumsily, you walk back into the dreaded arena where everyone is still celebrating Niki Lauda’s victory.

Niki watches you amongst a crowd of fans who are trying to form some sort of discussion with him. They hound him with all kinds of questions, some about the race itself and some about the esteemed racer and his personal life. Like a hunter stalking his prey, his eyes stay trained on you until you disappear behind the red door that leads to rooms that only named people are allowed to go to. “So, what are you going to do now, Mr. Lauda? How are you going to celebrate?” one of them asks, with a sort of sultry tone to their voice that he fails to notice.

“I have plans with a friend of mine for tonight,” he briefly states before pushing through them and following you into the stadium. “Can I join?” another asks, and he simply ignores them as they call after Niki with even more curiosity. It’s not hard to spot someone in bright red overalls suddenly walking into somewhere he shouldn’t be, but it’s easy to pay no mind to him because he’s a champion and most people who see him aren’t.

“Where, where, where are you, kleine Maus?” he hauntingly calls out, and his voice echoes back. Niki can hear the sound of your shoes clicking against the ground, and he decides to follow it. He tries his hardest to calm his heart down, but it’s hard to both hold your breath and make sure you’re not nearing cardiac arrest. The racer quickens the paces of his feet, practically jogging towards you as you decide to turn around and forget about the champagne.

Your jacket slips off your shoulders as you whip your body around, and suddenly, you’re pushed against a wall. The brick is painted over with a sort of cream colour. You begin to panic as strong hands keep you from fighting your attacker. “Du bellst wohl nicht nur, kleine Maus,” he notes out loud, and you don’t understand a word of what he’s saying. The voice is familiar, though, except for the fact it’s a few octaves deeper than you last heard.

“Niki?” you question, halting your flailing fists and restless legs. “Yes, kleine Maus?” the man questions and your jaw drops in shock. “What the fuck?! Are you insane? Get off of me!” you scream loudly, and his hopes of getting you still begin to die like a flower in the wintertime. Niki grabs ahold of your wrists in his dominant hand, and he swiftly turns you around and stomps on your ankles. “Help!” you cry out, but his other hand presses your face against the wall.

“Shut up, shut the fuck up,” he orders in your ear, pushing your white ribbon out of your face. You listen to him, but you disobey his commands at the same time. Writhing around, you try to escape the claws that squeeze you tightly, and you fail miserably. “Cute. Now stop fighting me, or else I’ll hurt you so badly you wouldn’t be able to go to anyone for help,” he threatens, and you gulp thickly in fear. Your saliva tastes of alcohol still, and you regret ever coming to the race.

“Good girl. See? That wasn’t so hard. All you need to do is listen to me,” Niki instructs, talking down to you like you’re some child who doesn’t know any better. “Why?” you choke out through gritted teeth. Your cheekbones rub against the brick, and the pain is gruesome. “Because I need to put you in your place. Do you seriously think you can just mouth off to me like that? To disrespect me like that? To prefer that pathetic racer over me?” he asks, and you let out a whimper. Each of his words sinks into you like needles filled with anesthesia.

They numb your mind until you realize what’s really happening, but by then, it’s too late.

“Well, obviously, I prefer James over you! Look at you, you’re rude, and you’re a horrible, shitty person. Now get off of me!” you lash out, even though your body doesn’t move. Niki simply laughs like a maniac, and you find yourself wanting to take back your words. “Maybe I’m so rude because I like you. Like how little boys tease little girls when they have crushes. You do know what a crush is, right? Just making sure since you’re so cold-hearted. Bet you don’t know anything other than hatred,” he spits, and you’re pretty offended.

“I know what you’re talking about! I’ve had feelings for people, okay?” you bite back, and Niki becomes curious. “Really? Let me guess. James Hunt? Some old boyfriend of yours? A man at a party who cleaned you up because you don’t know how to take care of yourself?” the Austrian questions, and you don’t realize who he’s talking about until you look at his hands. They’re the same as those gracious ones, except they’re more rough and lack gentleness. “That was you?” you ask, and you’ve lost all fight in your body at the realization.

“Well, of course, kleine Maus. Someone had to watch your back, and that someone is me! Du bist nicht so klug, wie du dich selbst darstellst, ganz ehrlich. But that’s okay, it’ll be okay. It’ll be just alright now that I’m here to put you in your place,” he reassures you, and you don’t even have the energy to ask him what he means. “Look, I’m sorry, I really am. I’ve learnt my lesson now, can you let me go? I won’t tell anyone, Sir, I promise!” you plea and your words start to blur into one another.

“I don’t think you’re sorry, kleine Maus. I need to do what’s necessary because I’m fucking tired of you and your bullshit,” Niki snaps, and you whimper from the harsh tone of his words. His change in behaviour gives you whiplash, and you realize that there’s no way out of whatever he has planned for you. “So careless, so mean, so ignorant… So clumsy. I guess you aren’t as independent or as strong as you claim to be,” he whispers, and he causes tears to sting your almost empty eyes. They hurt, and they carry such maliciousness to them that you can’t help but be terrified of Niki.

A hand comes up to the waist of your jeans. They flare out at the bottom, and well, they look pretty damn good on you. But maybe a little too good because they make Niki think wild thoughts. He expertly takes the buttons out of their holes, and he unzips your rusted zipper. “P- Please, Niki,” you beg one last time, but Niki ignores you. He pulls down your pants against your protests, and he lets them get tangled with your tired feet. Your bare ass is exposed to the cool air of the arena, and goosebumps begin to rise on your skin.

“Such a lovely ass, kleine Maus. Maybe I should fuck it instead of doing what I had planned. Would you like that?” Niki politely asks, and your eyes nearly fall out of your skull. “N- No, thank you, Niki,” you shakily reject, and he nods. “You see, unlike you, I’m not so mean. So I’ll spare you, but only this once,” he cheerfully tells you, acting as if you’re supposed to start jumping up and down at his words. The closest thing to gratitude he’ll ever get from you is silence.

Niki still has a tight grip on your hands, and with your legs now immobilized from the mess by your feet, you can’t do much to save yourself. He wraps his arm around your waist, and he grabs at the crotch of your panties with no care at all. The cotton bunches up, and his fingers graze lightly against your folds. You try to ignore his touch, but he does the opposite and forces you to focus on it. He’s frozen, and you’re waiting for his next malevolent move. You can hear his heavy breathing, and he angles his digits upwards so he can touch you even more.

You press a fist against the wall, and you try to brace yourself as best as you can. Unexpectedly, a fierce pain strikes you in your hips, and it hurts more than you can describe. His hand has left you, and you can feel the air breeze against your pussy. Your panties are on the floor, ripped into a shred of fabric that no longer has any good use other than reminding you of how you could’ve avoided this entire situation. “I’ll get you better ones, don’t worry,” he reassures you in a humorous manner, and you squeeze your eyes shut in annoyance.

Instead of having your hips jut out for easy access, he pushes your torso against the wall until there’s a pressure inside your stomach. Instead of pain, it’s a sort of tingling sensation that makes your eyes bulge out in shock. “Uhm...” you hesitate, and his ears perk up. “What is it?” he frustratingly asks you, and his harsh tone snivelling. “N- Nevermind,” you mumble, and you just try to take deep breaths. “Are you ever going to shut up?” Niki questions as his other hand skillfully unzips his red overalls.

He’s wearing a simple pair of shorts and a t-shirt for the hot weather and occasional coolness. You keep quiet, not sure if you should answer him or not. Niki grumbles in another language that you don’t understand, and you realize that no matter what you do, you’ll always make him angry. Even your begging doesn’t bring you any fruits of labour. Only disappointment.

His shorts join the pile of clothing on the ground, many colours clashing that leave his eyes to be sore. Sunset pink panties, pale blue jeans, vibrant red overalls, and black shorts. It’s a fashionista’s worst nightmare. His hard cock is left in his boxers, and he’s just too impatient to fully undress. He throbs out of want and need, with a swollen tip that leaks with pre-cum. “I know this isn’t so… What’s the word you people use? ...Ah, romantic! I know this isn’t so romantic, but it’s not supposed to be. I’m the only one who’s supposed to enjoy this, not you. So I don’t care if you want to fake a smile or anything like that, all you need to do is not say anything,” he explains, and you nod your head.

“O- Okay, Niki,” you assure, and he lets out a groan that is followed by his tongue clicking against his pearly teeth. “Dumb whore,” he spits, and his hand wraps around your throat. You’re inebriated beyond belief, and you don’t realize he can crush your windpipe in a split second until he whispers in your ear. “Can’t do one thing right, can you?” he retorts. The grip he has on your wrists suddenly loosens up, but you’re too sluggish to fight him. And even if you try, you’ll end up a pathetic loser with even less honour than before.

The fat tip of his large cock presses against your mildly slick pussy. “You’re already wet for me, kleine Maus! Oh, such a whore. You say you don’t want this, yet your little cunt is telling me otherwise. Maybe you should use it to think instead of your empty brain. You’d end up in better places if you did so,” he advises, and you try to tune him out. But he’s like an alarm that just won’t stop until you do something, and yet, you’re helpless. “Ich kann es kaum erwarten, dich zu meiner Hure zu machen. Wie viel verlangen Sie? Einen Dollar? So oder so, du wirst von mir gefickt werden,” Niki snickers, and you have a feeling his words lack kindness.

But who the hell are you to worry about kindness?

Niki pushes his hips forward as his cock slowly sheathes itself inside of your tight pussy. The way you hug him makes him moan immediately, and he wonders if he’s the first you’ve ever had. “Jesus Fucking Christ, you’re so right, kleine Maus,” he groans, slowly bottoming out inside of you. You’re biting down on your wobbly bottom lip, trying your hardest to keep quiet and not let out any cries. The pain is searing. It’s the worst thing you’ve ever felt, and it ingrains itself into your mind until it’s all but an illusion. You’re practically about to be torn in half from his cock, and you’re at an impasse.

The racer curses as his balls rest against your ass, heavy and swollen. He’s deep inside you, filling you up until you’re bursting and you don’t know what to focus on; the pressure in your stomach that just seems to grow with each passing second, or the pain that leisurely turns into pleasure you’ll be addicted to? Everything is so much all at once. “Feel that, kleine Maus? Do you feel how deep inside you I am? Good, because you’ll have to get used to it,” he tells you, and you writhe around.

“So desperate already…” he whispers, watching as you can’t stand still at all. Niki’s hand leaves the base of his cock, as he thrusts his hips forward to elicit a reaction from you. He holds onto you tightly, and your body jerks from his movement. Your swollen stomach is pushed further against the wall, much to your dismay. You let out a gasp, and you try to close your legs as much as Niki will let you. He chuckles before he drags his cock backwards. His tip is the only thing inside you, and he suddenly begins to pump into you roughly. “Oh my God,” you whimper quietly, and your words are drowned out by the sound of skin against skin.

He thrusts up into you at a quick pace, one that your fingers or past lovers could never rival. It seems as though he’s fast when it comes to almost anything. “Die beste Muschi, die ich je hatte,” Niki whispers. Your pussy slickens up as he fucks you, coating him with your sticky wetness. The sight is something to behold, and his cock slips in and out of you with each thrust. “Make some pretty noises, kleine Maus. I want to hear how much of a slut you are for my cock,” he demands, and a loud moan moves past your lips without warning. It’s lewd and pornographic, yet it’s not as debauched as the sounds your wet pussy makes.

“Yeah, that’s more like it, hure,” Niki praises, and you mewl once his cock begins to touch that sweet spot of yours. It makes you go dizzy and hazy, and it also makes your legs weak. You involuntarily stop clenching your thighs together. Each thrust brings you against the wall, and you feel like you’re about to explode. Your pussy clenches down on Niki’s cock tightly, and his motions stutter. “Are you going to come already, my little slut?” he questions, slowing down his thrusts just to see you get frustrated. But the reaction you have is quite the opposite of what he wants, and he’s confused.

You let out a shaky breath that is filled with relief. You try to cross your legs together and push your ass backwards so that you’re far from the wall, even if it means that you’re closer to Niki. Your efforts don’t do much, and you want to wail in defeat. Niki observes you carefully before he shoves you back against the wall. You cry out before whispering a simple ‘please’ to him. He doesn’t realize what you’re talking about until he watches you place one of your hands on your stomach. You splay your fingers out delicately, and Niki chuckles.

The hold he has on your hips goes away, and he reaches for your hand. “Shh, it’s okay,” he reassures, and you furrow your eyebrows in both confusion and surprise. Niki pulls his cock out of you until you’re an empty, gaping mess. Suddenly, he presses down on your bladder until warmth trickles down your legs, soaking the fabric at your feet. A few tears leak from your eyes, and Niki watches as you burn up with embarrassment and shame. The pain and pressure in your abdomen go away as you finally alleviate yourself.

“Dreckig, dreckig, kleine Maus,” he degrades, and you don’t have it in you to be offended. The streams of liquid eventually come to an end, and you’re so ashamed. You press your face against the wall and wait for Niki’s next word. But he doesn’t say anything at all. Zip, zilch, nada. Instead, he pulls his hand away from your stomach and uses it to silently guide his cock back to your drooling, aching hole. “Couldn’t help yourself, I know. It’s okay, it’s not entirely your fault, liebling,” Niki tells you, even though he’s more patronizing than comforting.

“Es ist nicht deine Schuld, dass du nicht weißt, wie man etwas richtig macht. Keine Manieren, keine Höflichkeiten... Ich verstehe, dass du so bist, aber ich bin hier, um dich zu ändern. Ich bin hier, um dir beizubringen, dass du unter mir stehst und dass du nichts anderes tun solltest, als meine Hure zu sein und mich zu verehren,” he continues, and you’ve decided to give up entirely. You forehead rests on the white brick, and Niki begins to fuck you roughly once again.

He pounds against your sweet spot relentlessly, not one error in his rhythmic thrusts. “Poor little thing acts all tough until it comes down to it… And now look at you, you’re a complete mess with my cock stuffed inside this perfect pussy,” Niki grunts, leaning his body forward. His chest is right up against your back, and his chin rests on your sweaty shoulder. Your white ribbon is a tangled mess, the two ends of it twisting together and falling in your face. The silk material is no longer cooling, and the styling purpose of it has lost its touch.

The plunges of his cock are more deep than quick, and each shove of his hips sends you spiralling in pleasure. “F- Fuck,” you moan, seeing stars in your vision as your legs twitch from overwhelming gratification. “Yeah, you like that? You like the way my cock makes your pussy feel, kleine Maus?” he questions, and he further pushes his head down until his mentum digs into your skin. You wail loudly out of pain before nodding your head desperately. Niki squeezes the sides of your neck even more, but he also pushes down on your windpipe until you’re gasping for air.

You wheeze resoundingly, and the sound of you suffering for breath sends even more blood down to Niki’s pulsating cock. “Say it, tell me how much you love my cock and how much of a slut you are for me,” he demands, and you grasp at whatever’s left in your vocabulary. “I- I love your cock, Niki. I’m such a slut for you and your cock. You make me feel so good. I love your cock so much,” you pathetically mewl, and you can feel a form of tightening building up in you. Your lower abdomen burns up with searing flames, ones that trail all the way down to where you’re both connected.

You get wetter and wetter, more loud and desirous as your climax builds up. It’s like a staggering tower that reaches up to the sky and past the clouds; it has an end, but it keeps growing. “Are you going to come, kleine Maus? Are you going to come around my fat cock? I know you are. C’mon, do it,” Niki urges, and you moan his name loudly. “Do it, come on my cock right fucking now, or else I’ll make this worse for you,” he demands, and your back arches violently. You let out a gasp as your jaw goes slack. Red fills your vision, and you’re clamping down on his cock.

You moan his name loudly, and your juices coat his already sticky cock. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mewl, digging your nails into your skin as you struggle to keep quiet like he ordered you to do. Your pussy spasms wildly, and your clit throbs, desperate for a few fingers to rub it. Your legs shake just a little bit, and you find yourself meeting Niki at his every thrust, desperate to keep going. Your ass moves backwards, and his hips move forwards, and the Austrian fucks you through your orgasm. Your nerves have sparks flying from them, and every part of you is sensitive.

“You’re so pretty when you come, kleine Maus. You look just like a desperate whore,” Niki grunts, and he can feel himself inching closer to his own climax. It’s like the light at the end of a tunnel or the chequered flag that usually waits for him at the race track before he’s announced to be the winner. “I’m gonna come inside you, kleine Maus, even if you don’t want me to. I’m going to fill you up with my seed and make you all nice and round. That way, you’ll know who you belong to, and you won’t be whoring around for the James Hunt you love so much,” he whispers in your ear, and you rapidly shake your head.

No, no, no, no.

“Yes, yes, yes, kleine Maus, you’re going to take my seed because I said so. Now stop fighting me,” he moans in your ear, and his thrusts grow sloppy and lazy. Niki shallowly fucks into you, and his balls begin to tighten up. His chest rises and falls, and he can feel his high beginning to climb up to the sky. Up, up, up, and away. Niki moans out the little pet name he’s applied to you, and he entirely shoves his cock inside you until he can’t move anymore. Growling, he comes inside you without a care in the world.

The raging, red tip of his fat cock is so deep. White ropes of his seed shoot into your womb, filling you up until you’re an upset, messy cumdump. “This is all you’re good for, kleine Maus,” Niki whispers in your ear, reminding you of your so-called place that he believes you belong in. His cum drips down your inner walls and leaks past his cock, and your fluids mix with each other. Niki’s cock twitches inside of you, but he remains as hard as a rock.

“Can’t wait to see you with my baby, kleine Maus. And I can’t wait to see James’s face when he sees you with me. Er wird so schockiert sein, dass sein Gesichtsausdruck unbezahlbar sein wird,” Niki laughs wickedly, and you can’t imagine you’ll ever meet anyone as cruel or as twisted as he is. “Can you get off of me now? I want to go home, and I want to stay as far away from you as I can,” you snap in both annoyance and exhaustion. “Nu-uh,” he tuts in a disciplinary manner. “You’re not going anywhere, kleine Maus,” Niki tells you. He tilts his head up until his lips touch the skin of your ear.

“I still have to celebrate my win with you, and I’ll make sure to push you to the limit, kleine Maus.”

#niki lauda x reader #niki lauda x you #niki lauda fanfiction #niki lauda imagines #niki lauda au #niki lauda fic #niki lauda rush 2013 #niki lauda smut #niki lauda x reader smut #daniel bruhl fanfiction #niki lauda dark fic #dark!niki lauda smut #dark!niki lauda x reader #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl imagine #daniel bruhl niki lauda #daniel bruhl x reader

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crab-instruments · 3 years ago

Text

Lock and Key Part 1

Master Part 2>

Lost and Found Part 1 (first part of the series)

Pairing: Silco x GN Reader

Summary: After stumbling into a job with Silco as your new boss, you seek to prove yourself worthy to the Kingpin. Shenanigans ensue. As your relationship grows, so do the feelings you deny.

Warnings: none

a/n: I was going to post this on my birthday, but I have rewritten this 5 hundred times. I'm not even sure if this is the beginning I'm going to stick with. I love this scene that I thought of, but idk what I'm doing

The only sound that could be heard was the tiny clicks from your lock picking tools jingling in the deadbolt. It took mere seconds to solve, the tumblers falling into place and turning smoothly. You twisted the doorknob carefully, slipping inside before closing the door again.

Once you had broken into this office while drunk looking for a sandwich. Now you were doing it with a purpose. It was the middle of the night, similar in time frame as before. Everyone should be asleep, specifically, Silco should not be in his office. You silently closed the door, making as little sound as you could. One, two, three steps in and you were on your way to the desk.

“I was unaware we had a meeting.”

“HOLY SHIT—” the sound of Silco’s voice at a normal volume caused you to take a step back, but you wobbled, and your world was flipped over. Some objects around the office shook but once everything settled, you huffed a breath and closed your eyes for a moment. The floor under your back was cold and a little uncomfortable.

“What are you doing.” Silco had a way of asking questions that sounded more like commands. You didn’t have to look at him to know he was going about his business as if you didn’t just make friends with the floor of his office.

“I’m… admiring the interior decorating of your office. Have you ever considered crown molding?”

“No.”

“Good, I don’t think it would fit the aesthetic you have going on here.” You waved your arm to gesture towards ‘going on here’ but otherwise, stayed where you were, eye on the ceiling.

“Oh? And what would you suggest?”

Now this was new. He never humored you for long, if at all, in your stalling. You sat up and thought about it before responding. “Maybe—”

“What are you doing breaking into my office at this hour?” There it is.

You rolled to your feet before standing a few feet from his desk. “Okay, so—”

“Keep it concise.”

“But I didn’t—!”

“Concise.” You entered into a staring contest with the man, but you backed down with a sigh. He was right, after all. Since you were hired and got more comfortable as whatever the hell you were, your anxiety manifested in winding stories instead of stuttering.

“The auction house plan that’s supposed to happen a few days from now?”

“Yes, what about it?”

You began a slow pace in front of his desk, Silco only slightly following with his head. “Okay, I know you said to let it go, but I swearthat Clown Bastard’s version of the blueprint—”

“Clown Bastard?” Silco had a tiny smirk on his face, you thought (or hoped) he found your mannerisms and word choice charming sometimes.

“The guy who gave you the blueprints. I forgot what his name was.”

“Hank.”

You abruptly stopped and faced Silco, who definitely was smirking now at your incredulous face. “No way. His name is not Hank. I would remember that.” Silco’s expression did not change. “Oh, my g—how did I forget a name like Hank?” You shook your head violently before continuing. “Anyway. The blueprints he gave were doctored. I didn’t have proof, but I couldn’t just stand by and watch the guy swindle you. So, I…” you gestured vaguely with your arms, “brokeintohisplace. BUT I was right! I found the original blueprints to that auction house.”

You opened the document tube you had attached to your leg and offered the papers to Silco. “So, if you look—”

Silco grabbed your wrist and pulled your arm closer to his face, examining it. The smirk from before fell into a frown and his eyes narrowed. “You’re hurt.”

You couldn’t stop the involuntary intake of air, worried what would come after already disobeying orders. “I fell.” Silco said nothing, waiting. “I fell… down… a scaffolding.” His eyes went wide for a brief second before he controlled his expression. “I wasn’t caught! No one saw me. Mainly because I fell down the scaffolding BUT no one saw me. And I’m totally fine.” You gave a sheepish grin, but he was unamused. Sighing, he let go of your wrist and took the papers.

“How exactly did you know he was lying?” Silco ran a hand through his hair before putting all his focus on the papers.

“Huey—”

“Hank.”

“—has a tell. I was reading about them and how to figure out when someone’s lying, and this guy was basically broadcasting it. He’d rub his nose every time he talking about the blueprints. Also, if you look at the original blueprints, you can tell an amateur copied them, it’s not even to scale.”

Silco looked at you with a raised eyebrow before muttering something along the lines of ‘not even to scale’ while studying the blueprints. An awkward silence settled between the two of you, one you couldn’t allow to stay for very long.

“…Sir? I know you said to let it go and I disobeyed your order—”

“Are you so sure you did?” He didn’t make eye contact as he spoke, full focus on the papers in front of him.

“…What? But you said—”

“I knew he was lying and was going to handle it silently but then you brought it to my attention, unprompted. You showed you were not only paying attention but actively looking out, I was impressed to say the least. I told you to let it go, you, who never let’s anything go until the puzzle is solved, knowing full well you wouldn’t. I was curious how far you would take it.”

“…this was a test.”

“Of sorts, yes.”

“Did I pass?”

Silco made eye contact, thinking about what he would say next, but it also looked like he wanted to hit you with the blueprints. He sighed and stood up, “I’m sure I will hear if you were seen but for now, I assume you acquired the blueprints with your dignity intact—barely. Yes, you ‘passed.’”

You did a silent triumphant dance.

“However, I will be putting you on desk duty until you are fully healed. You’ll also need more combat training, aerobatics, something to protect yourself with in case you encounter any more… scaffoldings.”

You shifted your weight. Still new to this job by a few weeks, Silco seemed to care more than you expected. Your impression of him was he only cared about a select few: Jinx and Sevika. It was a pleasant surprise to have that feeling shattered, but other grunts really… didn’t receive this type of treatment. It was hard to reconcile the Silco you had in your head, one that would have killed you for breathing the same air as him, and the one in front of you, who pushed you to be better. You would hesitate to say he trusted you but the way he played along with your antics made it seem like a possibility.

“Yes, sir. Silco, sir.” He made a face, one you had seen since the first time you met him. You gave a curt, awkward bow, something you kept doing almost as a joke at this point. You were almost out the door before you stopped.

“What is it?” He still stood by his desk, watching you hesitate.

“I found something else while I was looking for the blueprints, but I was hoping…”

Silco’s eyes narrowed before a look of unamusement took over his expression. “You’ve been reading the magic trick book again, haven’t you?”

“I’ve been practicing so I wanted to—”

“No, just give me whatever—”

“Please?”

The man looked so tired and worn down at this very early hour. He mumbled something about ‘puppies eyes that both you and Jinx manipulated him with’ while rubbing the tired away from his face. “Fine, make it quick. One chance this time.”

“YES. Okay,” you walked over to him and showed that your left hand was bare, twisting it so both sides were seen, “oh wait. Let me just—” you put your right hand on Silco’s shoulder, and he stiffened. With your left, you barely touched the side of his ear, following the shape, before bringing the pen you were hiding in front of Silco’s face. You couldn’t stop the stupid smile that spread across your face as you saw the genuine surprise on his. “I learned that from the sleight of hand book, a little bit of misdirection.”

He stared at you a moment before return to his normal self. Silco took the pen in his hands and examined it. “This pen… is the one that went missing a few days ago.”

“Yeah, Hubert—”

“Hank.”

“—took it. Found it while looking for the blueprints. It’s the one Jinx gave you, right? Figured you’d probably want it back.”

Silco tried to hide the small smile, but you had seen it. He nodded toward the door. “Get out of here. I have work to do.”

Part 2

*******

Requested tags/continuation: @imalovernotahater @distinguished-jeseter-things @thesinoflust1103 @mochi-clouds @jinxs-monkey-bomb @grapegirly @marine-captain-deku @huang-the-geek @d0nutkaky0in

#silco x reader #silco x you #silco x oc #lost and found #lock and key #silco lol #arcane silco #crab fics

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oumaheroes · 3 years ago

Note

Congrats on 100+ followers, you deserve it! I love your blog and writing! For the writing-promp, how about some outsider pov fruk?

Reflections

Word Count: 1690

Characters: England, France - FrUK, America, Canada

----

‘It’ll be fun!’

‘No, it won’t.’

‘Yes it will,’ America insists, leaning forward to get a better look at the screen. England’s face through the webcam is decidedly unimpressed.

‘I don’t like house parties,’ he says, but America can hear slight resignation already there in his voice and so pushes again to seal the deal.

‘Please? Come on man, it’ll be great. Right after the G20 meeting in Texas too so there’s no work to worry about; just stay one more day for it. And hey, if you don’t like it you can leave.’

England raises an eyebrow, ‘You invited me to stay withyou.’

America shrugs, unbothered, ‘Then don’t! Or, do- whatever. It’s up to you.’

England sighs and looks conflicted. America seizes the opportunity and goes in for the kill, ‘Everyone else will be there too; you don’t wanna get FOMO.’

‘I don’t get FOMO,’ England snaps, looking affronted, and America instantly knows he’s won, ‘But fine, if it means that much to you, I’ll come.’

America tries to school his face into something that doesn’t look too triumphant, ‘Awesome! Kay, so it’ll be casual, no need to dress up or be all fancy or anything.’

‘Yes yes,’ England waves a hand dismissively and shifts in his chair, ‘I know how a house party works. I do go to some, you know.’

‘Cool cool cool, just making sure.’ America can’t really picture England at the sort of house party he is thinking of, people lounging about on furniture and playing silly drinking games. But it must happen, he supposes- he’s seen England drunk in pubs before and he’s boisterous so it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to imagine him in an even more casual setting.

Suddenly, America notes the darkness of England’s surroundings and checks the clock in the bottom corner of his screen, ‘Hey, it’s getting pretty late for you over there, isn’t it? I should let you go.’

England glances at his wrist, entirely ignoring the PC he’s using, ‘Yes, I suppose so. Okay, likely I’ll see you next month then.’

‘No backsies, you said yes,’ America reminds him.

England rolls his eyes, ‘I meant that I won’t see you until then, I already said I was coming; I’ll come.’

‘Good!’ America moves his mouse to end the call, ‘See you there, old man. Try to be fun.’

‘What is that supposed to-‘

‘Bye!’

----

Canada glances about the room and nods, ‘It’s not bad.’

America reels back, ‘Not bad? Dude-‘ he gestures to the living room they’re in the doorway of and then to the pool outside, both places spilling over with nations chatting and enjoying themselves under the beat of the music, ‘-it’s more than not bad!’

It really was, in his humble opinion, probably one of his best in recent years. Nearly everyone had turned up who said they were going to and there had been a steady flow of conversation and dancing all night. America had scoped the place out every now and again, making rounds through the house to make sure there were no stragglers sitting somewhere on their own but there wasn’t a need for it- things had run smoothly without him needing to intervene and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. This is why he liked house parties, more than any other type of ‘function’. House parties had a more relaxed vibe, where no one felt the need to impress or do themselves up too much (unless you were one of the older ones, that is; it seemed that no matter what you told them they’d still arrive a bit more formally dressed than everyone else, as if they had some sort of inbuilt compulsion).

Things going so well was probably helped, too, by the fact that America had only invited friends and family. One, because inviting the entire world and putting them in one place anywhere would always result in some form of argument, but also because this was his house and he didn’t want it to get trashed, (regardless of what England had groused when he first arrived and had seen the condition of the place).

Canada shrugs and takes a sip of his drink, ‘I��ve been to better.’

America frowns, disappointed, before jostling his arm playfully when he notices the small, guilty shift of Canada’s eye, ‘Stop messing with me.’

Canada grins behind his cup and nudges him back, ‘Well, no one’s dead yet. That’s always good.’

‘Amen to that,’ America raises his glass in a toast which Canada meets and downs the rest of his drink, ‘Want a refill?’

‘Sure.’

‘Come on then, I ain’t your servant.’

Canada gives him a flat look but wordlessly follows America out of the living room and through to the kitchen. Australia’s there with Mexico, digging about in the lower cupboards for something and Denmark is showing Japan a video on his phone that’s making Japan’s eyes go almost unnaturally wide.

‘Alfred mate, what happened to those Tim Tams you promised me?’ Australia stands up from his crouch on the floor and looks at America reproachfully, ‘I feel swindled.’

America opens his mouth to speak but Canada cuts in first, ‘I hid them.’

America turns to him in confusion, ‘Why?’

‘Zea asked me to, seeing as they couldn’t come. Something about what you did to them at Christmas?’

Australia throws up his hands and scoffs, ‘Jesus fuck, when will they get over that. Where are did you put them? Come on, don’t be a dick, I promised Mexico some.’

Mexico shrugs delicately, ‘I don’t really care, to be honest. I just heard they were bad and wanted to see how bad.’

Australia looks down at her scandalised, ‘Who told you that?!’

She readjusts to sit properly on the floor, ‘People.’

‘Yeah, sorry, I’ll get them.’ Canada’s job has been carried out to the minimum requirement and America knows that he’s happy that he can now take himself out of the silly argument New Zealand and Australia have slyly pulled him into. He goes out of the kitchen, leaving his empty cup behind, and America follows him curiously through the hallway in the direction of the study.

‘What did Australia do to Zea at Christmas?’ America has missed out on England’s most recent yearly family function; he’d wanted to go surfing with Hawaii instead.

‘Don’t ask,’ Canada says tiredly, the air of an older sibling who had seen far too much. America is offended Canada hasn’t told him already. He opens his mouth to say as much when Canada goes to open the slightly ajar study door before stopping abruptly in the doorway, causing America to almost crash into him.

‘Hey, what-‘ Canada hurriedly squeezes America’s arm and tugs him sharply away in a warning for quiet, catching his eye before glancing into the room meaningfully. America peers around him into the study, wondering what he’s seen.

At first, he’s not sure what he’s supposed to be looking at; it looks empty. The main study light is off, leaving the room lit only by one table lamp by the sofa that casts a warm, buttery glow about the place, softening the corners with shadows. He looks to Canada for help and Canada tilts his head in the direction of the French doors, eyebrows raised.

America follows his gaze and understands. The darkness outside has turned the glass to mirrors, reflecting the front of the old sofa that America could previously only see the back of. On it are England and France, curled up together with France’s head on England’s chest and England propped against the armrest, one knee brought up high for him to rest an elbow on. He has his other hand in France’s hair and is gently running his fingers through it, long languid strokes that feel entirely too intimate for America to process.

It’s a strange thing for him to see. He has accidentally caught England and France doing other things throughout his life but intimacy isn’t really something they display. They argue. They bicker. They fight and scream and laugh, sometimes, but they do not do this in front of other people, this gentleness. Neither of the two are what anyone could ever consider gentle, even France, for all his intentional touches and flirtations -the soft ghost of his hand on a shoulder or resting warm around a waist- are not this, not personal. France is very free with his physical affections but they are shallow things, meaningless and ordinary. There is something removed and detached about how he moves amongst crowds, gathering himself close about someone to brush against them as he stands that speaks of friendliness yes, but not closeness. Nothing special to note.

But here, curled on a sofa and unaware they are being watched, there are no guards up or cold pretences between them, just a natural, domestic openness that America finds oddly normal, for how little he has seen glimpses of it. England and France together are many things, have experienced every extreme and mundane state possible for two people to experience, and this side of them is just another shade, as hard as it is to find.

France tips his head back more and opens his eyes, crinkling their corners as he murmurs something low under the muted music that causes England’s lips to twitch into a rare, open smile. They could be anyone then, just two people on a sofa, young and mellow, and for a split-second America can’t see them as anything else. The warm mood hides their identity and blurs their age- familiar strangers tucked away on their own.

America jumps, startled, when Canada nudges him, an elbow into his side and he turns to find his brother gesturing with his head back into the hallway.

He agrees. America knows both England and France would be mortified to be caught like this, boneless and out of character around the person they often so openly despise, so it’s best to leave them as they are undisturbed.

Australia can wait, America will squeeze the truth out of Canada about Christmas and maybe take Zea’s side just for fun.

----

AN:

Sorry for the wait anon, but I hope you see this and I hope that you like! Thanks for the ask and for your kind words, this was a lovely prompt and I really liked thinking about how I could do this justice ;u;

#fruk #aph england #aph france #aph america #aph canada #hws england #hws france #hws america #hws canada #aph #hws #heroes answers #my writing #hetalia #hetalia fanfiction

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tranquil-turbulence · 2 years ago

Text

SasuSaku Month ‘22 Day 7

Day 6 | Day 8

Day 7 Prompt: Insurance

College AU

"Okay, now slowly press on the gas pedal," Sasuke instructed.

The car lurched forward suddenly, and he grimaced and gripped the door handle tighter.

"I said slowly," he repeated flatly.

"I'm sorry, I'm trying!" The pretty freshman beside him snapped, turning to give him a glare before taking a breath and leaning forward in the driver's seat.

How had Naruto swindled him into giving his crush lessons again? He continued to wonder to himself even as she pressed slower on the pedal, making the car start at a snail's pace through the parking lot.

Haruno Sakura was a first-year science major, hoping to build up her repertoire of classes to enter medical school... as well as one of his classmates. She was beautiful, she was smart, and she happened to be the most frustrating person he'd ever met.

Besides Naruto, of course... but the blond had been his friend so long that it was almost unfair to compare him to a girl he'd just met three weeks ago.

Sasuke let out a sigh through his nose. "You could go faster."

"Do you want me to crash us?" Sakura retorted. "Be quiet so I can concentrate."

The eighteen-year-old pressed his back further into the passenger seat, staring out the windshield as his classmate got used to the controls. The car jerked to a stop and started again several times as she tapped the brake pedal, eyes darting about the console and murmuring under her breath.

Really, how did he swindle me into giving her lessons? She's hopeless, he snidely thought to himself. Naruto's annoyingly bright grin entered his mind again, and so did his cheerful voice - "Hey dude, could you do me a solid and give Sakura-chan lessons? I told her you were the best teacher I knew. If you do, I'll tell Mom to make spaghetti again..."

Damn it, he knew he was weak for Kushina's cooking. Curse him for playing low-ball.

His thoughts were interrupted - and he blinked out of his trance - at the sight of a pole coming quicker than he thought. "Hey, watch--"

The front of the car smashed into the stop sign, making Sakura shriek and sending his forehead towards the console.

Sasuke groaned in pain as his face hit the glovebox, but he was quickly peeled back by shaking tanned hands and worried green eyes scanned his face.

"Holy shit, are you okay?" She fretted, patting and poking his cheeks and temples. "Your pupils aren't different sizes, so you may not have a concussion, but..."

"Sakura," he finally said, exasperated, and that got her to shut up for a few precious seconds. "I'm fine."

The girl's lips parted, as if to say something, before her eyes widened in fear as she whipped around to stare out the windshield, seeing the way the front of the car crumpled against the pole (which was now standing at an obvious angle). "Oh no, your car!"

"It's fine," he repeated, grunting as he waved it off. "I've got insurance."

"Still, I feel bad," she continued, and oh, here we go.

Sasuke sat with his eyes closed, trying to keep his patience in check as the nineteen-year-old began rambling in shock.

Sakura was pretty, she was smart... but she never shut up.

He let out another breath through his nose and opened his eyes, only to blink when she shoved her wallet in his face.

"Here," she insisted. "I'll help pay."

Sasuke blinked again, his brow furrowing in confusion. Ow, he grumbled mentally as an afterthought.

"Please," the pinkette insisted, giving him a serious look. "I'm serious. I'll chip in, it was my fault your car got damaged."

"I have insurance," he repeated, almost dumbfounded. "It's not gonna cost me an arm and a leg. More like two hundred dollars."

"Shut up and take my money already," she huffed. "I can give you half. Is half okay?"

Slowly, he placed a hand atop hers and lowered the wallet so that it wasn't blocking his vision. He wasn't oblivious to the fact that her cheeks pinkened with the touch, and her eyes followed their joined hands until they came to rest on the center console before darting back up to meet his.

His own gaze softened somewhat at the frazzled expression on her face. "Take it easy, Sakura. I can pay."

"I still feel bad for wrecking," she sighed, running her free hand through her mussed-up hair. "How about I take you to lunch instead?"

Sasuke wasn't sure what face he was making, but it must have been one of concern, because she rolled her eyes and snarked, "Don't worry, I'll take the bus."

#sasusaku month 2022 #sasusaku #college au #pre relationship

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sereisstuff · 4 years ago

Text

𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 // Suguru Niragi

Warnings - Swearing, mentions of blood. Implied violence, mentions of bullying. The reader kinda has a savior complex.

word count - 3k

Italics + bold in the beginning is a flashback. Anything beyond the keep reading sign is present tense.

Also this was a first attempt, it’s somewhat what I could come up with at the moment, I was having mixed feelings towards Niragi because of the controversy surrounding his character and fan fictions but he is a fictional character, I’ll leave it at that.

“Leave him alone”

You screamed bloody murder, watching as tears cascaded down his dewy cheeks running down towards his blood coated collar, baring the harsh texture of a softball plumbing against his broken nose. You witnessed his pleas and the pitiful cries he broke into for someone to help him, it was heart-wrenching.

Your voice broke their trance of hatred towards the poor boy, making you their focus of humour. The boy who seemed a year or two older than yourself coughed taking advantage of the situation to relish his tears onto the floor whilst grasping his stomach in pain. A moment so awful could only bring entertainment for the crowd.

“Or what princess, are you gonna beat me up for it?” he scoffed, pointing towards Niragi grimly. His lips slithering into a deceitful grin and you swore, a glint of evil was shining behind his cowardly eyes.

You clenched your fist tightly feeling the silver rings bare against your cold hands, this seemed to amuse the group of them as a harmonious wave of laughter flooded beneath the bridge “How cute, a feeble thing like you challenging me? just like a little red riding hood” he muttered, his large feet padded across the cement, advancing towards your figure.

You felt your heart race in anticipation swiping a quick look towards the harmless boy shaking on the floor, angering you to your core. Like the swindling wind, your mind was running in chaos, calculating his every step with a cold glare strung to his eyes. You could almost feel your own body shaking but not in fear, no. In rage.

“Look at her, she’s afraid of you” one interrupted with a grin, simply ignored his assumption with a raised brow. You were somewhat tall but he still stalked over you like a tree. Rooting your feet into the ground, you spoke “I’m not afraid of you, or any of you for that matter. I’m afraid of what will happen if you touch him one more time and trust me, I won’t be the one shaking in fear, that’s a promise. So go ahead, keep calling me princess, I dare you” your threat was taken lightly although the fear was evident in a few of their eyes once they witnessed the honesty in your eyes.

A promising advance.

“You're funny, isn’t she funny? How about we make a joke out of you?” He threatened baring his teeth at you.

Your neck craned to meet his eyes, daring him to do as he pleased. One of his members gripped his hand in an attempt to pull him away “just let it go, we can get him next time”

But he didn’t budge, ripping his friend's hand out of his own and raising it mighty in the air with a subtle hope of destruction lingering between his finger tips. He snarled out his reply “No, I’ll show her what you get when you don’t mind your own business”

You laughed, mocking his accusation, pushing him towards his wits end “That’s it you bitch”

His hand came crashing down only stopping once you caught his wrist, twisting it around behind his back so he could squirm in pain. The others with slight moral decency, cowered in surprise, backing away from their beloved.

“You like that, huh?” You laughed, now it was your turn to become the heartless monster they awfully played “Does it feel nice being thrown around” you mocked him once more, kicking him into the floor with a nice swing of your boot covered foot, harshly connecting with his stomach so he pummeled in absolute pain.

“Your pathetic, the whole lot of you”

You rested your leg against his soon to be bruised stomach, glaring at everyone of them “Get out of here, before the same happens to you” your tone was stern and clear, sending them a threatening message they received. Although some hesitated but followed like little sheep in a herd, you bent down to their leaders face gripping strands of his hair and pulling his face to meet yours.

“Run along little lamb, watch your herd follow you”

You made sure they were out of sight before you came back to the realization of the poor boy lying in his own puddle of tears and blood, advancing towards him in a state of worry, you bent down in front of him, arms to your sides in hopes he would understand you were no threat to him. He lifted his head slightly, his left eye of his frames was cracked and his other eye was forming a purplish bruise, you would have done a lot more than that if only you had the time.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you” you whispered softly grasping his attention, beneath his dampened strands he peaked up, a murmur of pain could be heard and beneath his hisses he gradually spoke “Th-thank you”

“It’s fine, what they did was terrible. I hope you realise that you don’t deserve that” he had no strength to smile and only nod in understanding and suddenly it dawned on you. You had bandages and wipes in your bag, hanging out with a group such as yours you always had to be aware of any bruise and injury, what came with the mix of people you had was prone to wounds and you always came prepared for tragic things.

“I’ll be back” you spoke, standing up with a slight buckle in your knees and the pulsating pain in your fists, you so effortlessly ignored the more wounded. You gripped the straps, throwing it around your forearm and running back to him. You pulled out the bandages and the alcoholic wipes as you tapped his shoulder so he could look up from his dissociation.

“Do you mind?” you asked carefully, tipping your head towards his open wound on his cheek.

He looked at you, knitting his brows in thought. Processing what you said as he weighed out the idea that you were in fact being kind, he nodded looking into your eyes as you almost crumbled at the sight. The pain and hurt hidden behind those doe eyes was painful, you could almost hear the pleas again and you couldn’t bear the thought of that ever happening to you again, so you touched up his cuts with a hiss here and there until he spoke.

“Niragi…...my name is Suguru Niragi”

Your eyes were blindfolded, fear seeping through your clothes, you didn’t know how you got here only to the point where you suddenly couldn’t breathe, you clawed against the callous fingers wrapped tightly around your neck until you couldn’t anymore.

“How long has she been here?” You heard piquing your interest, your head tipped in surprise hearing multiple voices jump to their question.

You had accepted your fate of death multiple times before this one but something told you to continue, to persevere past your inability to continue. So you did, in an attempt to relish your curiosity and fear, you spoke “Where am I??” silence was your given reply, amongst the void of people you weren’t aware surrounded you, a stern voice spoke with demand “We don’t treat future members like this, take her blindfold off”

The void you’d been getting used to was finally ripped from your sight and you could suddenly feel the warmth of sun melting into your frozen complex, just as much as you could feel, you also saw. It was unlikely to enjoy such small things like this but in a world of torture, not even people could bring you peace, not anymore at least.

“She seems tattered, this wasn’t our doing wa-” before he could finish his sentence, someone interrupted

“it’s you?”

A voice you could recognise anywhere spoke with excitement, his laugh echoing through the room as it bounced off the walls, that didn’t sound like him. That sounded like someone who loved to live in an immoral world chasing sheep after sheep, until you fall into a pit never to come out again.

“How wonderful! I see you two seem well acquainted. I don’t suppose it was from the games?” Niragi shook his head with a grin, he seemed relieved to see you but you couldn’t say the same. You could tell by his appearance he seemed less empathetic, he had just as much reason too but it seemed edging.

His piercings added to his already threatening look, somewhat seductive to the eye and appealing, far beyond his student years.

“Not at all hatter, me and y/n go way back, don’t we? My little red riding hood” he asked, finally staring into your stern orbs. You felt threatened, the gun leaning against his broad shoulders slid down his arms as he gripped into, pointing it towards your bitter face, his aim was reckless but it didn’t mean it still didn’t shake something in you, you flinched at the sight.

“Oho that seems to catch your attention, should I do it again?” He threatened lightly as he connected his intense gaze with your own, your lips lifted feeling a wave of bravery and keeping your face stern and fearless“I’ve known him since high-school” you spoke plainly masking the fear you hid behind your voice, he definitely wasn’t the warm boy you met that night, his fear nowhere to be seen as he reveled in his own power.

“Fascinating, how a game can bring even the furthest of acquaintances together” Hatter’s crazed dazed rested on you, his jaw clenched as if he suppressed the words he spoke although he spoke as if all the freedom in the world rested on his shoulders, unlike many. Hatter had a free spirit, you could tell by the clothing he wore and how he portrayed himself, although the creator had all the power he seemed unafraid of what was to come, like his own creator.

“What is this place?” You asked.

The hatter walked leisurely around your seat, taking his place behind you with a threatening glare venomously biting at him from Niragi, his soft hands placed against your bare shoulders, massaging them as if to make you seem well enough to become comfortable but once he felt your tensed shoulders, thrash in his palms, he took a moment to pause.

“Welcome, new comer. To the beach, the utopia, your own personal home of freedom” Once again, the hatters voice was lost in daze.

“The what?” you asked again, that seemed ridiculous.

“The beach, A home I created, a home for those of us to feel our freedom, to bask in it’s warmth. No rules, no governed led law, just three absolute rules that every member of the beach must follow” The hatter rested a palm on your shoulder using it as a stool for his posture.

Amongst his rant, you mellowed out his words. Losing your train of thought in Niragi’s eyes, so much discomfort rested in your own he could almost feel the anger seeping from your bones, angered due to the unruly sense of it all. You either lived or died, a way out was always on your mind but the only thing that kept you running was living, making sure that when the moment came, you would still be here to leave.

Niragi, along with his powerful facade basked in its potential and he made it known to the world with his appearance, the way his voice pitched higher as he stared at your pitiful state, the enjoyment flooding his mouth with a taunting expression, you didn’t notice who that was, who he became but you knew better, deep down. He was still Niragi, the one you saved and comforted, the one who brought you food when you were so deep in school work you couldn’t bear the thought of switching positions, not even for your well-being.

You were brought back to the world when the touch of a cold barrel met your temples, a loud click followed soon after.

“You're really starting to piss me off, little red riding hood. Do you think we’re dumb, you look at the hatter like he’s an idiot, why would you do that to your saviour” Niragi spoke tauntingly, daring you to cross those barriers you put in place for your own protection, he’s seen you angered once, he’ll see it again.

“Do it” you proclaimed with a straight face, your voice calm as a tideless sea. Niragi scoffed, the corners of his mouth stretching widely and increasingly slow, too slow for your liking. He searched your eyes for fear, wanting the succulent delight of seeing your despair.

“Or are you scared? I know fear isn’t unknown to you” You hissed back at him, your venomous fangs digging deep into his caged memory, withstood by his own barriers. He locked those memories and threw that key into a bottomless pit but despite that, it was almost like you stood, knocking against the safe he locked his pitiful self in and he was holding the knob with shaking hands, you were resurfacing the past and he vowed to only ever live in the present.

His fingers lingered against the trigger, feeling the power of his hands against the weapon. He was a god in his own eyes but before him rested something more valuable, something he cherished in a past life. He couldn't do it and the hatter noticed this, speculation threw him in and he watched as Niragi pulled the gun away from your head, pointing it towards the roof and letting his pale fingers press the trigger with an anomaly of amusement.

The power shot from his weapon, creating cracks in the roof as the crumbs of his doing fell in front of your eyes and you released a small breath in relief.

"untie her, she's going to be with me from now on-wards" Niragi demanded, he was bearing a threat towards the hatters authority.

Hatter smiled in delight, worry never once tipped his harsh features but you couldn't speak for the others, who not once faltered at your treatment, now seemed worried for your entire being.

“Do as he says, he clearly knows our fellow members. Therefore, he should do the honors” Hatter demanded, he had a clear distinction for his choice of clothing, making it apparent that his name bore a meaning. Colorful expression distorting his position with his other executive members, freedom per se or maybe it was merely just a coincidence.

Your thrashing was unnoticed in his lock, he ripped you from your place roughly as if you had no meaning to him and it was probably true. Niragi hoisted his machine to the nape of his neck, tugging you in the other hand with what he demanded.

He couldn’t believe his eyes the moment he laid his on yours, it wasn’t often that he met people he once knew without shooting them right where they thought. Ruthless, the capacity for violence he had was uncanny but not unseen for his peers, they knew not of his past and he kept it that way, his psychotic doings sparked a mutual fear within those weaker than him and that was plenty.

“You stick with me or by me from now on, you leave my side for any apparent reason and you're dead, anything you’ve done. I’ve done worse, so I don’t think you want to play with me” in contrast to his previous behavior, he now was in a craze of success. You clenched his hand in an attempt to make him whine in pain just enough for you to run but he surprised you, locking your hand in a harsh grasp that made you bite your lip in pain.

“You should have just killed me when you got the chance, it’s not like you're the same anymore. You’ve changed” You mumbled, ceasing a breath. You relaxed your body and let him lead your way, it’s not like you feared him. As someone you once knew, you often reminded yourself in the moment that he didn’t harm a fly, that was no excuse for him now but in order to keep your sanity at bay, you did just that.

“Why would I do that when I could have fun with you instead?” He laughed.

“As if I would give you the chance too” you retorted.

His steps halted, as he stared forward with a grin. He liked the challenge in your tone, if it was anything. Niragi never once let a challenge get the best of him, he meant what he said and he would make sure more than once that he would get his way.

“Is that a challenge?” he asked, delightfully. Once a friend turned stranger, you stared at the back of his tied hair, the strands falling against his shoulder blades until you caught the sway of his head leisurely turning to face you with a snake like glint in his eyes, the horror of the unknown was creeping up your spine but you weren’t going to back down like a coward, you never did and that wont start today.

“I could warp you into my little pet, do you like being called a pet my little red riding hood. Whatever version of myself was projected onto you, you can forget because the one you're witnessing shares no mercy, not even for you. So thrash and whine as much as you like” Niragi began taking small steps towards you, you backed away in fear still grimly leaving the distaste for his actions lingering on your lips as you threw a look of utter disgust his way.

You managed to walk safely, feeling the brief tender touch of an untouched wall hit your frame, watching him tower over you “Because no one will help you, in fact, I have full control over you, I own you” You scoffed, looking away for a short lived moment before you felt his slender fingers grasp your chin harshly, forcing the contact between you two.

“You must feel so big right now. So utterly powerful, your need to pick on the weaker isn’t a new concept to you, right? In fact it should be so deeply engraved in your brain that not even a rock to the head could erase that, I see. Warp me all you want but I’ll always know you for who you were, my best friend” The words that left your tongue were hot, burning your throat as you held back tears from the countless memories.

“That’s bullshit, your best friend? That was my need for repayment, that person is long gone now” He screamed, but his face didn’t gleam in despair, no. It shone in glee. The fight was racking up all his pent up anger and he was more than happy to dump it on anyone near, that so happened to be you.

“Why? Why do you do this. You wouldn’t even harm a fly, the Niragi I knew was soft and caring, he hated violence” you almost screamed, baring your teeth at Niragi, the shine of the dagger he held didn’t even surprise you, his grasp of it against your neck was so close that even the tiniest gulp would have blood seeping from your throat.

“He died, a long time ago” his voice was now emotionless, you could see the shine leaving his face as he reminisced. His stoic features returned but his hold tightened, he grasped both of your hands, casually but sharply holding both above your head with his knife in the other, his body inched close to yours and you felt the texture of his clothing against your body.

“I don’t want to hear you bitching about how you miss what we had, that’s nothing now. You're nothing now, you're not special to me. Just someone I refuse to let go, you know that old saying? Snitches get stitches? Well if you tell anyone about how we met, what I went through, they won’t have any part of their body to stitch back together”

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