#I’m pissed I thought I stumbled upon gold

[ghostofreach]

I usually do not make posts like these but dude💔💔 I found some cold ass art of THE GOAT (diluc) and I was gonna reblog because why not yknow??? And then I was like

Wait

Lemme check their profile to see if the have more

and then BOOM k/luc jumpscare😧there was so much every single post was filtered out lmao

It’s actually heartbreaking tho like bro can you people BE NORMAL FOR ONCE!!!! Can we just make normal art that is cool and not be proshippers thanks chat👍👍

[runnning-outof-time]

Dancing With the Devil | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: no - written for @raincoffeeandfandoms ‘s 2.5k Follower Celebration

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: Tommy Shelby arrives in London with one plan in mind, but quickly stumbles upon another when he meets (Y/N). After finding common ground, he makes the decision on which way to go in a rather unique fashion. A decision that leaves one person rather pleased and the other rather pissed.

Warnings: language, smoking, mentions of drinking

Word Count: 3613

A/N: it’s been a while since I’ve written Alfie, so I hope he makes sense and isn’t too ooc … I just had to include him in here for you, Flor!! I went with a ‘night’ theme of a party/event for this. Congrats on 2.5k - it’s so well deserved! I’m so grateful that you’re part of this community!

A/N 2: this idea was pulled from a book about the Gold Rush that I read; where a man and a woman went onto the dance floor to make a business deal so that they could do it out of earshot of another man that she was in competition with. I immediately thought of Tommy and Alfie and this came out of it. Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

"Beautiful day out, isn't it, Mr. Solomons?" (Y/N) asked with a smug grin as she entered the man's office, walking in like she owned the place.

"Wouldn't know it," Alfie answered her, clasping his hands together and resting them on his stomach as he reclined back in his chair, "see some of us actually have work that they do...but you wouldn't know nothing about that, would ya? Always going around and getting into others' business without a fucking care in the world," he took the opportunity to throw a shot back at her after he clocked her smug nature.

If anything, his statement made her grow even more smug. "Ah but that's where I've got you beat, Alfie...I'm able to go around and get into other peoples' business because I've delegated my work to people whom I trust."

"You saying I don't have trust in my operation?" Alfie questioned her, his one eyebrow raised.

"I'm not saying anything," (Y/N) responded, holding her hands up in defense, "you're the one who brought it up," she reminded him.

"What're you here for then? Besides goin' about another one of your plans to annoy the piss out of me?" he posed another question, wanting to get on with this unscheduled meeting. He had another prospective partner coming in any moment now, and he couldn't risk that man walking in on this.

"I'm here because I wanted to let you know that there's going to be problems if your men keep crossing the line and running your product to my buyers," she said to him, her smug nature dropping like a flick of a switch as her expression went flat.

"Who my runners choose to go with the product is no choice of my own, you know that, doll...I merely give them the product to run," Alfie told her, speaking in a voice that showed her he didn't care about the situation she was in.

"That's bullshit, and you know it," she countered, a glare on her face, "you'd be down my throat about it if the places were flipped."

"Ahh but they aren't, are they?" he kept his careless tone, a grin teetering on his lips as he leaned forward in his chair.

(Y/N) couldn't help but grumble a few obscenities under her breath as she tried to keep herself calm. After a deep, steadying breath, she spoke as calmly as she could, "just tell your men to stop dealing with my buyers."

Alfie cracked another grin at her. He could see that she was trying to restrain herself, and he debated whether he should continue poking the bear or settling the score...for now, at least. A quick glance at the clock on the wall made him choose the latter. "I'll see what I can do..." he trailed off, his grin growing. He could play with her a little bit, right? "But as you know...determined men only listen to a certain extent."

"Make them listen to you, Solomons," she demanded, glaring at him in hopes that it'd make her point stick. She stared at him for a few more moments before breaking away and turning to leave his office.

"Good day, Miss (Y/L/N)!" he called to her as she left, a taunting tone laced into his voice.

She shook her head and kept walking, right past the taller worker who had curly, brown hair and a confused expression plastered on his face. He was probably confused by how she managed to enter the facility, but she didn't care. She was leaving it anyway.

Without a word, she made her way to the main doors and opened them. The sight in front of her stopped her in her tracks before she could begin walking to her headquarters. A man was leaning up against the wall, working on lighting a cigarette with a match. (Y/N) noticed his struggle in getting said match to light, so she fished the lighter she owned out of her purse and walked up to him.

"Need a light?" she asked him, making him look up; his face now finally visible from under the peaked cap he was wearing.

"Sure," he answered in a gruff voice, leaning in slightly to light his cigarette when she set the flame alight. He took a drag and blew the smoke away from her before sending her a silent thank you through a nod.

"You look like hell," she was unable to stop herself from commenting on his appearance. His right eye was bruised and red, and he had cuts on his cheek and chin.

"Feel like it too," he offered a passive response. (Y/N) wanted to ask how he'd received his injuries, but the question died in her throat when he spoke again, "you work here?"

She chortled at the question. "No," she said, shaking her head; laughing again at the thought of it, "I'd sooner die a thousand terrible deaths than I would work for that man."

The man she was talking to raised his eyebrows at her exaggerated statement. "Bad at business?"

"No, he's good in his own right..." (Y/N) trailed off, hating to admit the fact. It wasn't that Alfie was bad at business, he just did things...differently. "He has his own way of going about things. You can't ever fully trust him. He's willing to play any angle he can in order to get himself something out of the equation," she added a bit of a warning onto her statement. She almost kept on talking; wanting to grumble about how he was letting his men speak to her buyers, but she decided against looping this random man into her troubles.

"I'll make sure to remember that," the man nodded his head, his words making (Y/N) realize something.

"Are you...are you about to go in and meet with him?" she asked, jerking her thumb back in the doors' direction.

"I am," the man nodded again.

"You'll find nothing but trouble if you go and do business with that man," she warned him before adding in a pitch for herself, "you should come work with me instead."

"What if trouble's what I'm looking for?" the man asked, her quirking an eyebrow upwards.

"Then you might just find some with me as well," she answered, a grin tugging the right corner of her lips upwards.

The man chuckled at her witty statement. "Thomas Shelby," he then introduced himself, sticking his hand out between them.

"(Y/N) (Y/L/N)," she returned the greeting before accepting his handshake, "my offer’s serious," she told him, looking him in the eyes as she held onto his hand for a moment longer before dropping it and breaking their eye contact as she did so. "I'll let you get to your meeting now," she nodded her head towards the doors, and he nodded in response before the conversation ended and they went their respective ways.

All of the frustration that had been built up by the conversation she had with Alfie mere minutes ago had now dissipated thanks to the run in with this new man. Sure, he looked like he'd wound up on the wrong end of a fight, but he dressed well and was looking to do business. Better yet...he was looking to do business with Alfie Solomons.

(Y/N) didn't intend for her life to turn out this way. Her brother, James, was the person who started the operation she was currently the head of. What started off as a small-time business quickly climbed to international levels thanks to James' ideas and (Y/N)'s charm and quick-wittedness. While she didn't exactly lead the charge with her brother, she did play an instrumental part in the deals being made as well as the back end bookkeeping. She knew about every little detail.

This knowledge was good for her to have. Without it, she wouldn't have been able to transition into the lead role of the operation after her brother died as a result of a business deal that went sideways in America. She was left with no other choice...she wasn't going to let all of their hard work crumble. Now she ran a tight ship, making sure everything stayed orderly and worked in the way James used to expect it.

Alfie Solomons was a constant thorn in her side. Being that they were in the same line of business, and operating around the same area, they always seemed to clash. James wanted to work with him in the past; and had even gotten close to it, but Alfie's strategy of keeping every avenue open for himself ended in him screwing James over and advancing in a deal with Darby Sabini. Those two were, of course, at odds again...much like (Y/N) and Alfie were. They were always trying to find ways to one-up each other.

Which is why meeting Thomas Shelby - and making an impression on him before Aflie did - excited (Y/N). He could be the avenue that (Y/N) needed to get a leg ahead of the game in London. Now she just had to find a way to make him join her instead of the madman that he was about to have a conversation with.

She could have just barged her way back into the 'bakery', but no. She wanted to make sure that this move was well calculated.

——

"Thank you, Marcel," (Y/N) thanked her driver as he offered her his arm for an escort to the event's main doors.

"You're welcome, Miss. (Y/L/N)," he nodded before he stopped and let her walk through the doors on her own.

The music was already in full swing as she made her way into the event hall's main room. Tables were strewn about with drinks and food on either side and a large, open space designated for a dance floor was situated up by the band. (Y/N) glanced around the room, looking for familiar faces, before she decided to make her way over to the drinks for a flute of champagne.

She took a sip from it then as she looked around the room once more, trying to find the man she knew would be in attendance; despite the fact that he absolutely despised these types of events. After a few minutes of searching, she was able to pick him out. It wasn't that hard...he stuck out like a sore thumb, sitting at his table with an unamused look on his face while the other partygoers mingled around him.

A grin formed on her face as she began walking a straight line in his direction. She was halfway there when he noticed her, making him noticeably exhale a sigh. Seeing his reaction only made her grin grow. "I see that you still don't like these functions," she spoke first as she arrived at his table.

"I see you're still in the habit of attempting to converse with people who are uninterested," he quipped back, raising his eyebrows as he looked up at her, a disinterested look on his face.

"You stick out like a sore thumb here...who in their right mind would want to do business with you?" she couldn't help but carry on, taking every chance she could to throw a dig at him.

"See there...there's where you're wrong. You see, those who want to do business with me wouldn't be frolicking around this fucking dance floor," he told her, nodding to the dancing people to accentuate his point.

"And yet you've decided to still attend the event."

"Easy fucking business, is what this event is," he countered, making her scoff and shake her head.

"You've not conned me into working with you," she pointed out.

"There's good reason behind that, you know...yeah, maybe it's because I don't want to fucking work with you," Alfie suggested another way of looking at it.

"You seemed interested until Sabini showed up," (Y/N) didn't back down from the situation, "how is Darby, by the way?" a ghost of a grin formed on her face as she asked the question. Alfie pressed his lips together in a thin line at the mention of the man he once worked with. "You could have had it good with me, Alfie...but you decided to fuck all of that over by going into a deal with the Italians," she reminded him, a knowing smirk now present.

"I know you didn't come for fucking reminders, yeah, so what is it that you're here for, hmm?" Alfie decided to change the topic once he realized he was on the losing end of it.

"The same as everyone else," she answered, clasping her hands together behind her back as she turned to survey the crowd, "networking, building relationships...just general business," she continued, hoping to spot who she was looking for in the crowd. It took her a few moments, but she did and to her luck, he was looking at her as well. A slight grin formed on her face as it became evident he'd spotted her. "And I've invited someone," she said, watching as Tommy approached her. She waited until he was a few steps away, and clearly in Alfie's line of view, until she addressed him: "Tommy! I'm so glad you were able to make it!" she greeted him, a smile on her face.

"Thank you for the invite," Tommy said to (Y/N) before he turned his attention to the man sitting at the table, "good evening, Alfie," he greeted him with a nod.

"Yeah, it is," Alfie answered, shock still apparent in his face, "or rather it was...fuckin' hell, mate, she's got to you too?" he couldn't help but voice his surprise.

"I have," (Y/N) was able to answer before Tommy could, a smug smirk present on her face, "met him before you, actually...right after I left your building the other day."

"And you've decided to work with her?" Alfie posed a question to Tommy, "that meeting was a bunch of horseshit and a waste of my time then, wasn't it?"

"No, Alfie..." Tommy answered, shaking his head.

Alfie spoke again before Tommy had the chance to continue, "then why entertain her ideas, hmm? Because to me it looks like you've got your fucking mind made up," he pointed out, gesturing between the two of them.

"I came here to hear her side," Tommy explained his reason for being present.

"Go on then," Alfie responded, waving them off like he was some child that wasn't getting his way, "but let me make myself fucking clear first...you go on and work with her, it's fucking over. You've chosen that over what we've spoken about, there won't be another go of it when she decides to fuck you over," he explained to Tommy, his voice pointed and eyebrows raised.

I could be saying the same of you, (Y/N) wanted to say back to Alfie, but instead she bit on her cheek. It wasn't worth having another blow up in public...not when she was so sure that she had Tommy right where she wanted him. "Shall we go and talk, Tommy?" she asked the man standing across from her.

"Join me on the dance floor?" he responded to her question with one of his own, his hand extended to her. (Y/N) glanced down at it as a smirk formed on her face. Alfie must've been fuming inside watching this interaction go down. She loved it.

"I'd be happy to," she answered him, placing her hand in his so that he could lead her out to the floor. They assumed the appropriate position once they found an open space. (Y/N) didn't wait long to get into what they were meaning to talk about: "so I take it you've put some thought into what I've offered?" she asked him as they danced.

"I have," he nodded, his expression not explicitly giving anything away.

"And?" she asked him, her eyebrows raised.

"I'm interested," he gave another short reply. That didn't matter to (Y/N) though...even a nod would have told her exactly what she wanted to hear.

"You want to move forward with the deal?"

"Yes."

"Why do it out here?" she couldn't help but question.

"Figured I'd keep it under wraps for now...let you be the one who breaks the news," he gave her his reason before a grin formed on his face, "and I wanted to take the opportunity to share a dance with you," he admitted, his words making (Y/N)'s cheeks heat up.

"I've heard bad things about you, Mr. Shelby," she said to him, hoping that her reaction to his previous statement would stay hidden.

"Likewise," he countered with the same sentiment.

"You have?" she feigned surprise, "well I'd advise you not to believe them," she finished her statement, grinning at him.

"I think I'll make my own decisions about you...assuming I'd get to know you better," he told her, his grin matching hers.

"So long as you decide to work with me instead of Solomons, you can get to know me as well as you'd like," she said to him, her voice dipping into a sultry tone.

"Noted," he nodded, his eyes roving over her features.

The two continued to dance once the main section of their conversation was finished. (Y/N) couldn't deny that this man was handsome. She was attracted to the confident air that was present around him, and wanted nothing more than to be able to jump into, and get lost in, the oceans that were his blue eyes. Having him by her side could help her in more ways than one.

"Are you staying somewhere tonight?" she decided to ask the question that was burning in the back of her mind.

"I'm not," he answered, searching her eyes as he spoke, feeling pleased when he caught the knowing glint in them. He knew what she was getting at, and if he was being honest, he wanted that too.

"Maybe we should celebrate the start of what will be a successful business deal?" she suggested, the glint growing more apparent with each word she spoke.

"I like the sound of that," Tommy agreed with her.

The two decided to end their dance there, and separated to go and mix about the party for some more time while eagerly waiting for the ideal moment to exit the event together. Alfie was left to his own devices for the rest of the evening at the table he was occupying while his rival and the man he thought he'd be able to work with went off and celebrated the beginning of a partnership; one that may or may not have had a few more avenues of interest than the partnership that he was offering.

——

"You went and fucking did it then, mate...didn't you?" Alfie asked the man sitting across from him, trying to keep his anger to a minimum.

"What have I done?" Tommy asked for him to elaborate.

"You went and fucking danced with the devil, and you did it not thinking that I would notice," Alfie was happy to tell him exactly what had been done, "you've made the wrong move."

"I'm doing what's best for business," Tommy stayed brief, clocking the other man's anger, trying not to smirk at the fact that he so clearly was getting on Alfie’s nerves.

"Best for business..." Alfie grumbled under his breath, scoffing at the words, "you shouldn't trust a word that comes out of her mouth, mate," he gave a warning, sitting forward in his chair so that he could lean against the desk he was behind, "she'll fuck you over...take everything you own and then leave you behind before you knew what in the fuck even happened."

Tommy exhaled a slight snort at what Alfie said. He let the smirk teeter on his lips for a few silent seconds before he responded, "she's told me the same about you, Alfie. Said you'll play every angle in order to get something for yourself."

"Because that's what business fucking is! Now why would I go into a fucking deal without there being something in it for me? That's fucking preposterous thinking!" Alfie couldn't help but raise his voice.

Tommy stayed level-headed despite the man wanting to get a rise out of him. His grin grew even more knowing he was pushing the right buttons to a reaction. "So what she's said is right," he commented on the response Alfie gave.

"Well I guess it fucking is then, idn't it?" Alfie responded, his voice level again, "you'll see you've made the wrong decision, but there won't be nothin' left here to come back to."

"I'll take those chances," Tommy began as he stood up from his chair, "thank you for your time, Alfie," he said as he made his way to the door of the office, not even waiting for a response before he began to walk to the exit.

Alfie shook his head as he lifted his hat from it, setting it down on the desk before he clasped his hands together and rested his chin on top of them.

Although the fact that he just lost business irked him, he knew that nothing good could come from dancing with the devil. However, he wasn't sure if two devils dancing with each other would level the playing field and cancel each other out. Only time would tell of how things fared out in the end.

Tagged: @mgcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cilliansangel @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable

MASTERLIST

[inkyblinders]

Dancing with the Devil: Part II

Part 1

Pairing: Luca Changretta x Reader

Author’s note: This was so embarrassing to write not because of smut...but because I’m crushing hard on Adrien Brody right now. And I can’t even share this obsession with anyone because… he’s kinda niche? Someone please reassure me that I’m just going through a phase because dear God why can’t I stop watching Darjeeling Limited just to see him ahhh.

The story picks up right after the end of Part 1, so I recommend reading that first. Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated, let me know what you think!

Summary: Following your meeting with Luca Changretta, you face the Shelby family and Tommy's reaction. (2.6k words)

Warnings: Smut, angst, swearing

Tag: Let me know if you would like to be added or removed

@anythingwriter, @rrtxcmt, @shut-chan

_____________________________________________________________

You barely make it into your bedroom before he is all over you. The buttons of his crisp, tailored shirt fall like marbles. He moans when you nip the skin of his neck, right over his tattoo of the black cross, legs tangled together like a depraved waltz.

When he grinds into you, you shudder deliciously at the hardness that meets between your bare thighs.

How easy would it be for him to kill you after he fucks you, leaving your corpse twisted in the bedsheets. You know Tommy would find it when he eventually remembers that he has not seen you for days.

“Signorita, you know I come to you with the most honorable of intentions.” He murmurs, as if sensing your thoughts.

“You're not a very honorable man then.” A laugh that turns into a gasp as he trails his hand lower and strokes between your legs. No, not very honorable at all. And pretty soon all thoughts of honor are forgotten as he coaxes a moan from your throat.

His fingers are magic. The cold outline of his onyx rings scald your skin each time he crooks a finger inside you. Knowing exactly what you need, seeking your depths, swirling, rising to rub the clit, all the while exploring the flushed expanse of your body with his other hand.

Shoulder to breasts to hips and back again.

Without meaning to, you’ve let this stranger take control of your entire being. But God, do you crave this pure ecstasy.

It’s as if he wants to know precisely how much you can take before you're undone. So when you clench around his hand and feel the familiar ache he is right there, helping you ride the wave of pleasure, never breaking the rhythm of his thrusting fingers even as you curse, rake your nails down his back.

You almost cry out his name when you come. But you bite into his shoulder instead.

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna have to hear you next time.” He growls.

His words barely register as you come down from the high. Aftershocks spark like tiny flames. Now you are wearing his scent as much as he is wearing yours.

“Be inside me,” You whimper, tugging at his soft hair, urging him for more.

He rasps an empty warning, “What's my name, sweetheart?”

Of course. All this time you've never acknowledged you know of his identity. There was no use in trying to hide it now.

“Luca,” you breathe. And his eyes gleam with approval.

With a snap of his hips, he plunges into silky warmth. The fullness stretches you to your limit, head thrown back. It’s good, so good. Every withdrawal of his thrust is a blessing because you know what follows next. It’s him inside you again, wrapping you with his touch and the scent of tobacco and roses.

“Does your Tommy fuck you like this? Like the way I do?”

“He’s not mine.” You choke out, punishing Luca with a bite on the neck that elicits a chuckle rather than a yelp of pain.

He kisses you, your foreheads pressed together. “A damn shame for him.” Soon he starts to quicken his pace, going faster, more erratic, his breathing heavy upon your ears.

Yes, you urge him, come on, now.

And this is your chance. In a flash you roll on top of him, pinning down his shoulders with your hands. He tries to arch up but you stop him with a knee.

“How many men did you bring, Changretta?” You ask, making your voice rough to mask the lust, pressing your hands around his jugular.

It's a pleasure to see him like this. Shocked at your actions, maybe even scared. Naked with want but unable to do anything to relieve it. Unless he tells the truth.

“Fifteen. Why baby, am I not enough for you?” He laughs breathlessly, hands trailing goosebumps along your hips, tracing the contour of your breasts. The jib doesn't hurt you. After all, men have said worse. He tries to surge into you again, and his hot member pulses on your thighs.

“Do you swear on your honor? That you’re telling the truth?” You insist, squeezing him harder. The touch brands his skin as much as it brands yours.

In a voice full of self-mockery he says, “Yes I swear on my honor. Now let me in, clever Isabel.”

You take him in you, the sensations amplify a thousandfold. You try teasing him, going slowly in and out, but soon you are caught up in the sensation of him completely at your mercy and you ride him, faster, until you keen his name, until he too is undone.

****

Through the haze of dawn, he stumbles out of bed and gets dressed. Before he dons his hat once more, Luca leans down to whisper in your ear, as soft as sin.

“You tell Tommy Shelby he may expect a visitor in the night. I'm coming for him as the angel of death. The vendetta has begun…” He kisses your hair.

“I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”

The door clicks shut. You rise from your pillow, and a small, hard lump rolls next to your hand.

It is a signet ring of onyx and gold.

****

“So we all get a death letter from the mafia, but Izzy gets jewelry?” Ada huffs as the family filters into the betting shop. As usual, Tommy holds court at the front of the table, brooding over a glass of whiskey. You roll your eyes as Arthur and John try to cover their snort of laughter with a cough.

“If you want it, you can have it, Ada. He’s probably planning on killing me too.”

“Doubt it. You’re not a Shelby, and we’re the ones who killed his father. Well, someone did, to be precise.” She shoots a bitter look at Tommy, who doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.

Despite Ada’s matter-of-fact tone, the words cut to your heart. Not a Shelby.

It’s not her fault. No one knows you’ve been sleeping with Tommy, not even your dearest friend. It’s a lonely secret to keep, but at least you can look at the family square in the eye and not have to worry about the things they say behind your back. Or worse, pity you.

You can handle the violence and moral ambiguity of Tommy’s business. But to lose the love and respect of the Shelbys would break your heart.

“What was the mafia man like, Izzy?” Finn asks eagerly. It’s obvious the boy is thinking of the dashing, gun-wielding gangsters he’s seen in the pictures.

“He was a wrinkly old brute. Kind of like your arsehole brother Tommy.” A smile to take the edge off the insult. But Tommy only looks off into space. As if he hasn't paid attention to this entire conversation.

Arthur clears his throat. “Now, let’s get one thing straight. It was me who pulled the trigger on his dad, so the blame falls on me.” He pats Linda’s hand even as his voice is heavy with guilt.

“No one’s blaming you Arthur, you weren’t the brains behind the operation, no offense.” Ada says. He is about to say something when Polly cuts in.

“Stop squabbling like children. We’ve all voted for truce, despite everything Tommy’s done to us—” The words nearly having us hanged hover pointedly in the air. “—So let’s focus on the matter at hand." She fixes Tommy with a sharp look.

“What’s the news from Camden Town? Will Solomons help us?”

“No.” He says tiredly. And all of a sudden you feel sorry for teasing him. He look gaunt. There are shadows under his eyes, even more so than usual. Without you to remind him to eat, you can imagine his diet for the past few days consisted more of alcohol and cigarettes than anything substantial.

“Spent three hours on a fucking tour of his bakery and another pretending to drink his piss-poor rum. I think he was trying to get me sloshed so I’d forget what I came for.” Tommy rubs his head.

“He’s refusing to send his men to help. Said he’s not going to go after another oppressed people.”

“Did you tell him the Italians are rounding up Jews in their country as we speak?” Polly asks incredulously.

“Wouldn’t make a difference to Alfie. Besides, that’s just an excuse. He’s really just a fucking coward.”

Polly looks troubled at this, as does the rest of the family. Everyone had been counting on Alfie’s friendship with Tommy, however peculiar, to help them with the vendetta. What they hadn’t expected was his extreme sense of self-perseverance. How are they going to protect themselves now?

“Before everyone panics, I’d like to say something.” Tommy clears his throat, setting down the whisky.

“As you may all know, two nights ago our Izzy encountered Mr. Changretta in the Garrison. He bought her a drink and asked her to deliver an official beginning of the vendetta.” He chooses this time to finally look at you. You hold his gaze until he looks shiftily away.

“We can also assume that he has been scoping out Small Heath, looking for any weaknesses on our turf. Now, Izzy has something to share with you all.”

You stand up uncertainly. The last time a woman other than Polly tried to speak her mind at the table it had been Esme, who still refuses to come to the betting shop unless Tommy is not here.

“While Mr. Changretta was, er, indisposed at the Garrison, I found some items in his coat that I think could be useful.” You fish out a passport and a stack of papers from your skirt pockets.

“Good job, Izzy! Oh, I knew we could count on you more than my idiot brother.” Ada beams.

“Becoming a right little spy, eh?” John ruffles your hair good-naturedly. As everyone gathers around, Polly gives a low whistle.

“Goodness, if this is your definition of an ugly brute, I wonder who’ll really catch your fancy, darling.”

You flush. The documents were obtained shortly after Luca had fallen asleep. It was an exercise in agility, trying to extricate yourself from his tangle of limbs, especially when you wanted nothing more than to stay in bed, encased in his warmth.

To your own credit, the papers were highly useful indeed. Some were maps of Birmingham, circles drawn in places where the Shelbys are known to frequent. The Garrison. Charlie’s Yard. The Arrow House. There was also stationary from The Stanton, a hotel just outside of the city.

There had been another piece of paper in the stack, a letter. But you kept that for yourself.

“We all have Izzy to thank for bringing us this valuable information.” Tommy’s voice rises above the chatter. “I will be personally examining all the documents and think of a plan. In the meantime, everyone stay alert, stay armed, and stay together.”

“Now if no one has any further questions, I need to have a private word with her. Alone.”

*****

You twirl the onyx ring around your finger as everyone filters out. It’s much too big but you still wear it anyways. The thick band of gold is comforting in its own way. And despite what you told Ada earlier, you don’t want to give it to anyone else.

Tommy’s curt voice snaps you from your reverie.

“Was it good, then?”

A small muscle tics on the underside of his jaw. His previously blank expression is now cold. The coward in you compels you to feign ignorance.

“What do you mean, Tommy?” You ask lightly.

“Did it feel good to have that fucking wop inside you?”

You burst out laughing. “Christ, Tommy. Did you pick up that word from Alfie? You sound bloody ridiculous when you’re trying to be crass, you know.”

“Don’t fucking change the subject, Isabel.” Tommy snaps.

“Oh, so I’m Isabel, now? You only call me that when you’re trying to get me in bed. Is that what you want? A bit early in the evening if you ask me.”

“What I want for you is to tell me how it felt having that man inside you, inside---”

You blaze with anger. “My sex life is none of your business, even if you are an occasional participant. I did what you would have wanted, and now I’ve got intel on the Changrettas that could save your arse!”

“Do you know how dangerous it could have been? Fraternizing with the enemy is exactly what got us into trouble with the Changrettas!”

“And fraternizing with them again has given us an advantage. We know how many associates he’s brought with him, and where they are staying. Good God,” Your eyes widen as you see the mutinous look on Tommy’s face. “Are you jealous?”

The silence of the room presses in until it's almost palpable. Finally he rubs a hand over his eyes, looking utterly defeated.

“I have no right to.” He says, pained. “But I am, just the same.”

The admission of his feelings would have made your heart soar a few days ago, before you met a man who enchanted you in the Garrison. You only laugh bitterly.

“What makes this different from all those other times you made me seduce the men you wanted to spy on?”

He says nothing. But what else is there to say? The past is in the past, and so many hurts have been caused by the both of you, it would be impossible to untangle it all.

You soften your voice, laying a hand on Tommy's arm.

“Let me continue seeing him. He wants me, and we can use that. You know it will be help, you know it might save us all.”

A breath flutters in your chest as you wait for his decision. If Tommy allows it, you’ll do it in a heartbeat. The Shelbys are your family, whether you're one in name or not.

But if he refuses, then perhaps… Perhaps he might actually care for you, deeper than jealousy, deeper than he admits.

“Very well.” Tommy says finally, and something in your heart shatters. The corners of your mouth curve up in a wobbly smile.

“Thank you for trusting me, Tommy. I won’t let you down.”

“You would never let me down, no matter what you do. Just…Be careful, Izzy.”

He closes the distance between you and enfolds you in a hug. You enjoy this quiet warmth, as fragile as spider's silk. With a small laugh, you pull away, patting his arm before turning to the door.

You don't look back to see if he follows.

[beifongsss]

warmth [zuko]

Pairing: Zuko x reader

Requested?: yes!: “maybe running from fire nation and hiding in a cave with zuko? zuko and reader think they each hate each other but they rlly don’t 👀“

Summary: You and Zuko get separated from the Gaang and things happen :)

w.c. ~3.1k

.masterlist.

~

The day had started out normally.

You were the second person to wake up, Zuko being the first. You rubbed your eyes sleepily, crawling out of your sleeping bag and walking over to Appa, patting the sky bison before grabbing your bag and reaching for a peach that you had stuffed away. When peaches were present, Momo couldn’t be trusted. 

“You really take that whole ‘I rise with the sun’ thing to heart, huh?” you asked dryly, sitting across from the prince. He huffed lightly, crossing his arms before looking away. You smirked smugly, knowing that his silence meant that he couldn’t think of a comeback. 

The silence didn’t last long before Zuko turned back to you. “Spirits! Could you chew any louder?”

“I don’t know, let me try,” you replied, chewing obnoxiously. Zuko glared at you before standing and walking away, turning slightly so you couldn’t see the faint smile tugging at his lips. You stared after him, biting back a smile of your own. 

The group was already used to the banter between you and the scarred prince. It had started way before he joined the Gaang, back when he still had that god-awful ponytail and thought that capturing the Avatar would restore his honor. He had aimed a plume of fire just a bit too close to you and you had let one sly remark slip, your jaw dropping in shock when the prince responded in kind. 

Ever since then, you always made sure that you pissed Zuko off whenever you had an encounter. It was just too easy to rile him up. 

That didn’t change when he joined your side. If anything, it got worse. You didn’t miss a single opportunity to get on his nerves and eventually, Zuko found himself anticipating your remarks. It gave him a sense of normalcy. You didn’t treat him any differently than you ever had and as weird as it was to admit, he didn’t mind the attention you bestowed upon him. Of course, he couldn’t deny that you had really gotten on his nerves that one time he had lost his firebending. 

It was silent in the clearing after Zuko walked away, and you proceeded to make everyone breakfast. A while later, everyone emerged, mumbling a sleepy thanks as you handed them a bowl of rice porridge. The six of you sat in a circle around the small campfire, enjoying the small moment of peace you had. 

“Thanks for breakfast, (Y/N),” Katara said softly, smiling at you over the rim of her bowl. 

“Yeah! This is amazing,” Sokka said, tilting the bowl to get the last of the porridge into his mouth. 

“I thought it was a little bland,” Zuko commented off-handedly. Your eye twitched as Aang gave a nervous chuckle. Katara looked at you worriedly as Sokka tried to ignore Zuko’s comment. At your lack of response, Zuko smirked and opened his mouth yet again. “I’m certain that Momo could’ve made us a better breakfast.”

“Next time, make your own damn breakfast,” you snapped, slamming your bowl down onto the ground before turning to face Zuko. “Oh wait, that’s right. Poor little Prince Pouty doesn’t know how to do anything for himself!”

“At least I know how to control my temper,” Zuko shot back, glancing at your now-cracked bowl.

“Oh that’s rich coming from the guy who once set me on fire because I accidentally spilled some water on him!” you replied, remembering the unfortunate incident. You now had a very prominent scar on your leg as a reminder.

“Guys,” Aang called out. “Maybe we should save this for later.”

“Really?” Zuko asked, jumping to his feet. “What about the time you almost stabbed me because I accidentally stepped on Momo’s tail?”

“Hello? You stepped on Momo’s tail!” you cried out, jumping to your feet as well. “He hates you now!”

“Well at least Appa likes me,” Zuko said, thinking about the time Appa threw you off his back because you had accidentally yanked his hair. 

“Appa does like me,” you snapped, a groan emitting from the sky bison as he agreed with your statement. 

“Guys!” Aang yelled loudly, getting your attention.

“What?!” you and Zuko snapped in unison. 

“Look behind you,” Sokka said quietly, his boomerang ready in his hand. You whirled around to see a group of Fire Nation soldiers standing amongst the trees. A low hiss escaped you as you smacked Zuko’s arm. 

“See what you did?” you asked, your eyes never leaving the soldiers. “Your yelling led them straight to us.”

“My yelling?” Zuko scoffed, getting into a defensive position. “If I recall correctly, it was actu-”

“Guys!” Toph yelled angrily, sending the two of you a harsh glare. “Now really isn’t the time for this.”

You nodded sheepishly, readying yourself to fight as well. The six of you quickly realized you were outnumbered and realized that your best possible option in that moment was to escape. You all gathered up your supplies quickly, rushing towards Appa. A guard stepped in front of you suddenly, knocking you down before aiming a blast of fire at you. You rolled out of the way, leaping to your feet before sending a kick to his head and knocking him down. 

“Yip yip, Appa!” Sokka yelled, sitting at the reins. 

“Wait!” Katara cried. “(Y/N) is still down there!”

“What?” Sokka screeched, looking down at the ground as he tried to locate you. He noticed a group of soldiers trying to surround you as you fought them off. 

“Go!” you yelled, waving them away as you began to run the other direction. 

“We’re not leaving you!” Aang yelled, getting ready to hop off of Appa. 

“I’ll lead them away and then meet up with you,” you replied, rushing off. “I promise! I’ll be fine.”

You were gone before anyone could say anything else, disappearing into the trees as half of the soldiers followed you. The other half turned their attention to Appa, ready to attack. 

“Yip yip,” Sokka cried again, receiving disbelieving looks from everyone else. He gave them a shrug, trying to hide his worry. “She’ll be fine. She’s gone through worse. C’mon we can’t lose faith in her.”

The rest of the group nodded softly, sighing in relief as Appa left the ground. Their relief was cut short when Zuko leapt off of Appa, landing on the ground and kicking his leg to send out an arc of fire towards the remaining soldiers. 

“Zuko! What are you doing?” Katara yelled, looking over the edge of the saddle in a panic. 

“Go,” came Zuko’s rough reply. “I’ll stay with her. I’ll protect her.”

It was silent as the group watched Zuko sprint away. Appa didn’t stop and Sokka made no effort to bring the sky bison back down to the ground, watching as Zuko fought off each soldier effortlessly. He hummed lightly, drawing everyone’s attention to himself as he turned his attention back to the reins. “You know, I’m willing to bet five gold pieces that by the time we find them, they will have smooched at least twice.”

Toph grinned at Sokka’s statement, her fear of flying temporarily forgotten. 

“Oh you’re on, snoozles.”

~

You weren’t sure how you had managed to evade the soldiers for as long as you had. You were out of breath, panting heavily as you sprinted through the forest. Looking around, you knew you needed to find somewhere to hide. No matter how good at fighting you were, you knew that you couldn’t fight off all those Fire Nation soldiers. As you darted between the trees, your ankle got caught on a tree root and you went tumbling onto the ground. You groaned as you laid on the ground for a moment, opening your eyes to get a bearing of your surroundings. Your eyes narrowed when you noticed a gap in the cliff a few yards to your right. It would’ve been unnoticable from any other angle and you silently thanked your clumsiness for leading you to safety. 

“She went that way!” you heard a soldier shout. Biting back a gasp, you scrambled to your feet and sprinted to the opening in the cliff. You squeezed inside, pulling on some of the hanging vines around it to better conceal your location. You head faint footsteps coming your way and you stilled, crouching down to get a better look outside. 

Stifling a groan, you darted outside, grabbing the person by the collar of their shirt and dragging them back inside the cave with you. 

“H-Hey what’s your problem?” Zuko asked as you pushed him up against the cave wall. You shushed him softly, placing your hand over his mouth. His skin heated up under your touch and he froze for a moment before snapping out of it and grabbing your wrist, pushing you away from him. 

You stumbled slightly before landing on your butt, scowling at Zuko but remaining silent. You cocked your head to the side as you heard footsteps walking by. 

“We lost them,” a gruff voice said, sounding a lot closer to the cliff than you liked.

“They can’t have gotten far,” another voice replied. “We’ll set up camp in the clearing over there. The prince is too valuable to let go.”

A noise of agreement was made before the footsteps faded and you found yourself walking up to Zuko and pulling him down by the collar of his shirt. 

“What are you doing here?” you hissed quietly, still on edge. 

“Saving you, that’s what?” Zuko snorted, once again gripping your wrist and forcing you to let go of his shirt. 

“No! Now they’re going to hunt us,” you replied, turning around and walking away. “They would’ve given up sooner or later, Zuko. I’m not important. But now they won’t leave because you came after me!”

“So now you’re upset?” Zuko asked, whisper-yelling. “I took out half of those soldiers! You’re welcome.”

“Yes I’m upset. Now because of you, we’re stuck in here!”

Zuko’s eyes widened as he realized you were right. There was no way that the two of you could leave the cave, not with the Fire Nation soldiers camping out a few yards away. He cursed under his breath before observing you. You had walked to the other side of the cave, leaning against the wall and sliding down until you were sitting on the ground. He looked outside, noticing the sun going down and walked towards the entrance. 

“Where are you going?” you whispered, keeping your eyes on him.

“I’m going to get some firewood. I’ll be quiet.”

“Are you serious right now, Zuko?” you asked exasperatedly. “We cannot start a fire in here. They’ll see the smoke escaping through the entrance.”

Zuko paused for a moment, knowing you were right before walking over to you and taking a seat a few feet away from you. “It’s getting dark out. It’ll get cold soon and something tells me that Aang isn’t going to find us that quickly.”

You looked at the entrance to the cave, knowing that he was right. It was getting darker by the minute and without a fire, you were in for a cold night. Zuko watched your expression, getting a bit worried. As a firebender, he had no issue with the cold; but you weren’t a firebender and he was worried about you. 

Silence engulfed the two of you as night fell. The temperature fell ridiculously quickly and you found yourself curled up into a ball as you tried to warm yourself up. You shot a glance towards Zuko, scowling deeply when you noticed him lost deep in thought. He was sprawled out on the ground, not shivering at all as he stared up blankly at the ceiling. You rolled your eyes, looking away before hugging yourself even tighter.

“Can you stop your chattering?” Zuko asked suddenly, turning his head to look at you. “It’s quite distracting.”

You glared at him, shivering lightly. “I’m sorry, is me being cold inconveniencing you? Not all of us can firebend, Prince Zuko. And my teeth are not chattering!”

Zuko didn’t reply, instead standing up and walking over to you. You glanced up at him suspiciously, frowning when he took a seat right next to you. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close and avoiding your gaze.

“Zuko, what are you doing?” you whispered, unable to move your face from where it was buried into his neck. Zuko shivered at your words, keeping you tucked into him as he tried to control his blush.

“Keeping you warm,” Zuko replied. “What does it look like?”

“Why?”

“What do you mean?” Zuko asked softly, tilting back slightly to meet your eyes. You avoided his gaze, curling into him even more. He was exceptionally warm, and you felt yourself sinking into him to avoid the chilly air within the cave. Zuko’s arms tightened around you as he shifted, bringing you into his lap as he made himself more comfortable. 

“You hate me,” you whispered, still hiding your face from him. Your arms snaked around his waist, allowing you to dig your face into his chest and hide even more. 

“W-What? No I don’t!” Zuko cried, earning a shush from you. “If anything, you hate me.”

“N-No I don’t!” you exclaimed, pulling away slightly to look up at him. 

“Yes you do!”

“Why would I hate you?” you asked, looking at him with a bewildered expression.

“I don’t know!” Zuko said, a confused expression on his face. You thought he looked rather cute. “I get why you would hate me back when I was the bad guy, but I’ve changed! I thought that by now you would like me.”

“Zuko, I never hated you,” you replied. “Not even back when you were the ‘bad’ guy. You were always fun to banter with and I thought that you wanted things to stay that way.”

“What on earth gave you that idea?” Zuko asked, looking at you in shock.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you always had something to say in return to my remarks,” you stated, looking at him blankly.

“Well you always start it,” Zuko accused. You paused for a second, knowing that he was right.

“Well you always reply!”

Zuko let out a frustrated groan. “That’s because you keep teasing me if I don’t.”

“Okay, but that’s becau- mmph.”

Your eyes went wide as Zuko pressed his lips to yours, effectively shutting you up. You froze for a split second, not believing that this was happening. Zuko pulled away, a smirk on his face as he took in your flushed face and dazed expression. 

“Not so mouthy now are y-”

This time it was you who cut Zuko off, pressing your lips to his almost feverishly. Your arms left his waist, coming up to wrap around his neck and pull him impossibly close. Zuko responded better than you did, immediately returning the kiss and angling his head just so in order to deepen it. You melted against him, causing Zuko to smirk into the kiss before he began trailing kisses down your neck. 

A gasp escaped your mouth as you felt him leave a mark on you before you tangled your hands in his hair, pulling his face back up to kiss him again. You couldn’t remember feeling cold anymore, the feeling of Zuko’s lips on yours and his arms around your waist erasing any thoughts about the chilly air in the cave. Now all you could feel was warmth. 

“In case it wasn’t clear, I like you,” Zuko muttered into your ear, pulling away from your lips for a second. You shivered at his words before leaning your forehead against his. 

“In case it wasn't clear, Prince Pouty, I like you too,” you teased, giving him a shy smile. Zuko snorted at the nickname before kissing you gently, a stark contrast to the way the two of you were kissing only minutes earlier. 

“Toph! They’re kissing!”

Sokka’s head was poking through the cave entrance, looking at the two of you in shock. In the midst of your confessions, the Gaang had found the Fire Nation soldiers and defeated them, knowing that you couldn’t be too far away. Toph had been the one to find the cave, using her seismic sense, but Sokka had insisted he be the first one to enter. 

“Aw man,” Toph called out, pushing Sokka out of the way and forcing her way into the cave. “How many times did you lily livers kiss?”

You and Zuko exchanged surprised looks before looking at your two friends embarrassedly. You were still in his lap, the two of you ridiculously close to one another. Overall, you had been caught in a very compromising position. 

“U-Uh, I don’t know,” you stuttered, avoiding Toph’s blank gaze. Even though she couldn’t see you, you knew she was judging you.

“We didn’t exactly keep count,” Zuko drawled. You slapped his chest. “But if you want we can add a few more.”

“No!” Sokka and Toph yelled in unison. Sokka covered Toph’s eyes as Zuko pressed his lips to yours, catching you off guard.

“I’m blind!” Toph grumbled, causing Sokka to look at her sheepishly.

“Oh, right,” Sokka replied, removing his hand and carrying Toph so that her feet were off the ground. “That’s better.”

“Just tell us if you kissed more than two times,” Toph said, hanging limply from Sokka’s arms. 

“Oh we definitely did,” Zuko said, a smirk on his face as you squeaked in embarrassment. 

“Ha! You owe me five gold pieces,” Sokka yelled triumphantly, accidentally dropping Toph. The small girl landed on the ground, scowling deeply at both having been dropped and losing the bet.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Snoozles. If you need me I’ll be outside,” Toph grumbled, stalking out of the cave. You shared an awkward glance with Sokka, who had a large grin on his face as he stared at the two of you. 

“Uh, anything else you need?” you asked the Water Tribe boy.

“No,” he replied, the smile never leaving his face. “We’ll be waiting outside when you’re done. Have fun, but not too much fun.”

Groaning, you dropped your head onto Zuko’s chest. Sokka let out a loud laugh as he left and Zuko simply rolled his eyes before looking down at you. Using his index and middle fingers, he tilted your chin up, bringing your face up so that he could look at you. A bright blush spread across your cheeks as you met Zuko’s golden eyes, the urge to look away growing stronger as his gaze dropped to your lips. 

“Now, where were we?”

~

taglist!

@musicalkeys, @mywigglybaby​, @bubblebars​, @iguessthefloorislava​, @dekahg​, @boxofteenageideas​, @bottledcostcowater​, @butterflycore​, @coldlilheart​, @the-firebender-girl​, @ajediherowitchrunner​, @lammello​, @astroninaaa​, @samsmultifandomblogs​, @sadskater25, @oddment-niwit-blubber-tweak​, @eternallyvenus​, @emberislandplayers​, @sunflowerazula​, @moonnei, @stilllivindue2spite​,

[damonfuckingalbarn]

“Got You!”- 90s Damon x Reader

Pairing- 90s Damon x Reader

Words- 1.2k

Warnings- No particular warnings, mainly fluff with a few swears.

Requests are currently open, rules for requests are here :) 

“Damon, I really don’t want to do this” You laughed nervously, folding your arms across your chest as you rolled your eyes.

You had been with Damon for a few months now, but somehow you’d managed to avoid meeting his band mates. It seemed like a great idea, until you realised that it had meant you’d built up the idea in your head, so you now thought of it as the most terrifying thing you could possibly have to do.

“Why not?” He whined, pouting at you as he widened his eyes “Come on y/n it’ll be fun”

You tried your best to avoid eye contact as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. He rested two fingers on your cheek gently pushing it so that you moved your face and looked at him.

“Stop worrying, they’ll love you” He whispered, his blue eyes staring intently at yours. He moved his head towards you, closing the gap between you by pressing his lips against yours.

“I promise they will” He whispered as he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours.

You nodded your head as you reluctantly finished getting ready, putting your shoes and coat on as you took hold of Damon’s hand and followed him out of his flat.

“I thought all you guys did was just get pissed, why can’t we be doing that instead?” You rambled, furrowing your eyebrows together as you spoke. They always seemed to be on the front page of a tabloid stumbling out of bars or falling into cabs, so why we had to do something as painfully sobering as laser tag was beyond me.

“Well, that can be arranged my love” Damon laughed, his hand squeezing yours as he did so. You sighed, though your boyfriends laughter was far too infectious and it even managed to crack a smile on your face.

“I mean laser tag, remind me how old you all are again?” You whined, though it wasn’t long before your own laughter was breaking through your words.

“Twelve” Damon smirked, his eyebrows raised as his face light up with his laughter.

All of the street lights had come on now which meant there was a glow around the both of you, making Damon’s hair a honey-dipped gold as his eyes sparkled in the reflection of the lights.

The neon sign of the laser tag venue appeared far too quickly and as you forced yourself to put one foot in front of the other you immensely regretted your decision to not pull a sicky. The boys had booked a late night slot to try and avoid any press or teenage girls showing up. But as your eyes fell upon the three boys waiting by the entrance you couldn’t help but wish there was a crowd gathering around them that you could just disappear into.

“Y/n, everyone says I’m the scariest one and you’ve won me over so you’ve really got nothing to worry about” Damon grinned, you looked across to him and frowned, opening your mouth to tell him about how he was the least scariest person in the world but you didn’t manage to get any of that out as your words got stuck in your throat when you realised you were finally with the other boys.

“You must be y/n” The boy, who you knew to be Graham, mumbled before reaching forward and engulfing you in a hug. You were slightly taken aback by his actions though, you did your best to act through your surprise and hugged him back. “It’s really lovely to meet you” He told you with a nervous smile as he pulled away from the hug.

“You’re far too pretty for Damon” Alex laughed as he too gave you a hug.

“Fuck off” You heard Damon scoff, you pulled away to see him with a large smile across his face and a glint of pride in his eyes.

“Damon’s told us so much about you” Dave gushed, you laughed loudly, nodding your head as you did so.

“He means he hasn’t fucking shut up, I’m sure you’re lovely y/n but I feel like I know more about you than I do my own girlfriend” Graham teased, wrapping his arm around Damon’s neck before ruffling his hair.

After a quick safety briefing you were all suited and booted and ready to go. There was a big feeling of relief washing over you, they were all lovely and thankfully spoke constantly which meant you had gotten away with not saying very much.

You ran, well hid, in the dimly lit room, deciding to adopt the hiding strategy rather than risking your life to try and shoot someone else. You let your laser gun hang by your feet as you rested your back against one of the walls. You knew nobody could get you where you were, which meant you could listen to the other boys shouts and screams at each other as they ran around aimlessly.

You took a few steps forward from your wall, with the intention of heading out and at least attempting to play the game properly, but a rather out of breath Damon appearing in front of you stopped that. A breath hitched in the back of your throat as he took a few steps towards you, causing you to take steps backwards until your back was against the wall again. Surely he wasn’t going to shoot his own girlfriend?!

Instead, he placed a hand above your head, bringing his face dangerously close to yours, his breath was hot on your face and it sent shivers down your spine. Before you could push him away, he pressed his lips against yours, the force causing the back of your head to hit against the wall. You could feel the smile on his lips as he deepened the kiss, his hand gently caressing your cheek as your tongues swirled together. In the back of your mind you knew someone could turn the corner and stumble upon you at any moment, but as you bought your hand up to play with his hair, you really couldn’t care less.

It felt far too soon when Damon pulled away, a small smile playing on his lips as his eyes gazed upon your lips, before he moved them up so they were staring into yours.

You opened your mouth to say something, but before you could the electronic sound of Damon’s laser gun firing stopped you.

“Got you”

[doyumacy]

ʀɪᴅᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ - teaser

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: you have been gone for a year, but very little has changed. your half bother’s still a legend in underground races. the same girls hate you. the same boy still makes your heart race, but this time you won’t let him get close enough to hurt you again. not again. not like before.

mark lee has just arrived to town and he’s only staying long enough to set up a few street races, make some money, and have fun. but he might stir up some trouble when begins hanging around with his sponsor’a half sister, and it’s not just her brother he’s pissing off.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: sᴜɢɢᴇsᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴛᴀʟᴋ, ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴀɴɢsᴛ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 𝟷,𝟿ᴋ

ʀᴇʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴅᴀᴛᴇ: ᴀᴘʀɪʟ 𝟹, 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟷

three years ago

you slide out from under the car you've been working on when you hear an unfamiliar engine approaching the garage. it must be a customer, you think as you go to the front desk to help them.

"can i help you?" you ask, freely.

"i have a faulty spark plug and my garage is on the other side of the planet. they told me this was the best place in town."

"and it is. go ahead and go into the store."

"don't mechanics normally keep people waiting in the office?" he asked amused.

"only when the person doesn't know anything about cars. obviously you do, so you have to keep me company while i fix it," you smirk.

"what's your name, suh? -he asks, using the last name on your work shirt.

"y/n. yours?"

"yuta. nakamoto yuta."

"nice to meet you. let's get that car fixed, shall we?"

a few minutes later, the black car is with the hood open in the garage. yuta, on the other hand, is helping you by handing you the necessary tools. you let his fingers brush a little more than strictly necessary when yuta hands you a wrench.

yuta smiles and leans back against the car once you're done. "how much do i owe you?" he asks quietly.

it takes you a second to really register how close you are to each other. you look him in the eye. "how about you take me out to dinner and the debt is settled?" you ask in a sudden flare of audacity.

fortunately, he smiles.

"my thoughts exactly. what time will you be out here?

“six.”

he looks down at that ridiculously nice black gold watch.

"it's only an hour from now. how about i keep you company until then?"

"i'd like that."

"so what were you working on before i showed up?"

"my charger over there. there are some bastards who want to compete with me saying their luxury imports can beat it. tonight they're in for an ugly surprise."

you assume yuta has heard about your garage, knows about your regular clientele. they consider themselves the best store around to the fellow street racers. but to everyone else, it's just a small garage.

"that sounds like something i'd like to see. mind if i stay and watch you kick their asses?"

"it'd be my pleasure," you smile.

as expected, you end up following yuta back to his apartment after winning the race by a solid car length. the endorphins from winning the race flood your senses, and yuta is amazed that he had managed to stumble upon such an amazing girl. someone like him.

sl walking, you find yourself wrapped in warm arms and leaning against a hard chest. you caress the dragon-shaped tattoo on his right shoulder and plant a kiss on it.

a quiet moan tells you she is waking up. his arm tightens around her. he plants a kiss on your forehead.

"good morning to you too," you say.

yuta rolls you onto his back and rests his torso on top of yours. "good morning."

"you look happy.

"i woke up with a beautiful, bad-ass, street-racing woman in my arms. how could i complain?”

you laugh. "well, i could say the same thing. it's not often i get to wake up next to a hot guy and that brother would probably beat up if he knew where i spent the night."

he barks out a laugh. "you're most likely right..." he bites his lip. "there's something you need to know."

your smile disappears. "you're not married, are you?"

"no! god, no," he replies instantly. "i just want to know if you want it to be more than a brief fling."

you are silent for a moment as he thought.

"yes, i think so. i mean, we could get to know each other better but yes," you explain.

"then we're on the same page," you nod absently. "do you want to have breakfast before we go on with our talk?"

you can't help but get a little nervous. what does he have to say?

"what do you want for breakfast?"

"uh..." you sit up, holding the black sheet against your chest to cover yourself. "whatever. i'm not particularly picky."

yuta nods and gets out of bed, pulling on a pair of gray sweatpants. he leaves his room and you lie back down on the bed. your cell phone rings somewhere in yuta's room and you grunt getting up to look for it. you find it inside your jeans.

"y/n! where the hell are you?" johnny asks as soon as you answer the phone. “you didn’t come home last night, and jaehyun said there was a guy watching you the entire race.”

“don’t worry about it, brother. that guy was my date last night. i’m at this place right now,” you grin.

“hold on, you had a date?! who? why didn’t you tell me?” johnny bombards you with questions.

you sigh. you saw this coming.

“everything all right?” yuta asks, entering his bedroom.

“my brother,” you say with your mouth. “johnny! easy with the questions. i’ll tell you later, bye!”

“be responsible!” it can be heard from the phone and you hang up.

you exhale dramatically and fall back on the bed.

“trouble, dear?” yuta inquiries.

you raise your head to look at him. “big brothers are tedious,” you announce after a minute.

“i wouldn’t know; i’m the older brother.”

“oh?”

yuta smiles warmly. “i have a younger brother. the idiot used to fight older bullies in the yard, and i was the one who had to finish them off.”

you smirk. “you protected him. my brother’s the same way.”

“let’s eat, okay? i still need to talk about something important,” yuta declares.

you nod and he tosses you slightly one of his shirts. you put it on and grab your panties putting them on.

yuta made sunny side up eggs and french toasts. between bites, yuta begins to speak. “i work for the korean mafia.”

“huh?” you stop eating and stare at him. “you what?”

yuta laughs lightly. “i work for the korean mafia.” he repeats. “i bet you’re wondering what a japanese guy is doing working for the korean mafia.”

“not exactly my first thought but yes,” you shrug. “what do you do?”

“let’s say i’m a middleman between the korean mafia and the yakuza,” he confesses.

you frown. “so you buy goods from them and then sell them?”

yuta raises an eyebrow at you. “what are you? a businesswoman?”

you laugh and have a bite of your toast. “i went to business school, but i dropped out this semester.”

“hot,” he plants a kiss on your lips. “so yes, that’s my job. aren’t you scared?”

“of what? you? your job?” you snort. “i’ve seen way worse in the underground. i gotta say i’m surprised because i thought you were a good boy.”

yuta chuckles. “i am good at other things,” he winks at you.

you push the plate aside and sit on his lap. “i can’t recall, do you mind refreshing my memory?”

yuta grins and places his hand on your ass cheeks. “aren’t you too sore?”

“pain is my best friend,” you nip at his lip and he groans.

yuta kisses you and his hand goes to your throat tilting your head to the side and biting your neck harshly. you whimper at the painful yet pleasurable sensation. yuta shushes you and darts his eyes to you. “i thought you enjoyed the pain, baby girl.”

ONE YEAR AGO

you’re standing in front of his gravestone and place the flower bouquet next to it, remembering how you two met. the only sound is the wind, rustling through a nearby copse of trees. it has been five days since yuta died and the hole in your chest only gets deeper.

it hurts.

you’re broken.

your life without him means nothing. the city without him means nothing. nothing makes sense without him.

“you shouldn’t have died,” you say. “we could have been better.” you mumble, sitting in front of the grave. “it’s weird, today i woke up and i thought i heard your voice. am i going crazy?” you scoff.

you stare at the gravestone and then lower your heard. “i came to say goodbye. i can’t stay here anymore. everywhere i go i see your face. everyone reminds me of you.”

you feel tears streaming down your face. “i’ll never forget you, yuta. i love you so much.” you burst out crying.

you leave town that same night, leaving everything and everyone behind.

[borisbubbles]

My favourite Dorian Quotes

Just as an addendum, since my previous didn’t exactly put across the hilarity of Dorian, here are my favourite quotes/conversations/reactions by Dorian Pavus in Dragon Age 3.  Edit 22/01: added a few more because Dorian just keeps giving.  60.  Dorian: Come on Varric, just answer the question. 😣 Varric: My mother didn’t raise any morons, Sparkler. 🙄 Dorian: But you must have an opinion! And you’re a Dwarf! Completely unbiased. Varric: There is no way I’ll answer “Which Inquisition Mage is the best dressed?”, not for all the gold in Orzammar. Vivienne: Also, the answer is obvious. 🙂 59. Dorian: So what's your estimation, Varric? Think we could win? Varric: 😱 You aren't asking me to give odds on our beloved Inquisitor's success?! 😛 Dorian: What would that look like? Three to one? 🤣 Varric: In his favor?  Dorian: After Corypheus pulled an archdemon out of his arse, are you joking? Inquisitor: You would actually bet against me?  Dorian: Now now, if I weren't here, it would be five to one at least. 😘 Inquisitor: I’ll take those odds, actually. 😏 Dorian: This is why I adore him so.  😍 58.  Cassandra: So Bull, about Dorian... Iron Bull: Yep, it’s true. 😁 Dorian: By all means, let’s discuss this all together. 🙄 Cassandra: If you’re both pleased Dorian: He’s happy, I’m happy, everybody’s happy!  Iron Bull: Awww, you’re happy. 😍 Dorian: 😣 Cassandra: 😄 57. You joke! they’ll be writing books about you, boring ones that will get it all wrong. Just you wait!   56.  Iron Bull: Yesss, we’re going to fight the dragon, boss? Oh THIS is gonna be GOOD.  Dorian: You are way too excited about this. 😑

55.  Blackwall: How do you get your hair to do that, Dorian? With magic? Dorian: With proper hygiene and grooming. Maybe the three of you should get acquainted. 🙄 54.  Cole: You’re happier now, Dorian Dorian: Oh is that what this light tingly feeling is? I suppose you’re right. 😏  Cole: Wishing but wondering, wounded and whistful Cole: What if he doesn’t want me after? Dorian: But he did. 😁 Cole: Now you’re smiling. It’s good.  😃 53. Varric: Does this shit make any sense to you? Dorian: Are you referring to the giant gaping hole in the sky, or the creature from a Chantry cautionary tale pretending to be a god? Varric: Either. I’m feeling generous. Dorian: What’s the matter? Some pretender comes along, tears the place down, declares himself king. That’s half of history. Varric: Corypheus is like that drunk uncle who refuses to leave the party? Dorian: Even after he puts a hole in the ceiling. Terribly common.  52.  Sera: You gonna warn me the next time you’re throwing your magic around? Dorian: As long as you’re careful where you shoot all those arrows Sera: You magic me, I’ll put three in your eye! Dorian: 😅 Now we can live together in peace and harmony!  51. Vivienne: Dorian, what did you think of little Sera’s last Red Jenny mission? Dorian: Hmm... I’d call it ‘medium’. 🤔 Vivienne: ‘Medium’, my dear? Dorian: It wasn’t rare, and it certainly wasn’t well done. 😏 50. Cole: Dorian, what is 'a slave'?  Dorian: FESTISBEIUMOCANAVERUM! 😨 Cole: You said I could ask questions! Dorian: I know I did, just... go ask the Inquisitor that one. 49. An optimist! 🤣  such a rare breed, I have stumbled upon a unicorn. 48. Dorian: What I wouldn't give for some proper wine.😫 Vivienne: Skyhold's steward is a sadistic little man who is trying to kill us. 🤢 Dorian: Perhaps he found a bargain he couldn't pass up, on vats of vinegar? 47. Cassandra: Why are you looking at me like that, Dorian? Dorian: I am trying to imagine what you would look like... in a dress.😈 Cassandra: Keep wondering. If my uncle couldn't put me in one, neither shall you. 46. Dorian: How do you want to be remembered, Cassandra? Valiant yet sexy rebel against the status quo? Cassandra: I don't have any control over how I'll be remembered. 🙄 Dorian: Sword raised high, blue scarf dramatically fluttering in the wind, sun rising behind you? Cassandra: Blue scarf?😒 Why would I be wearing such a thing? Dorian: It's a painting, of course! Work with me( It'll be fantastic! 🤗 45. Dorian: Why is it so cold? How do you southerners stand it? Iron Bull: What's the matter? Not enough slaves around to rub your footsies? Dorian: My ‘footsies’ are freezing, thank you! 😒 44.  Blackwall: Dorian, I’d appreciate it if you stopped refering to me as ‘that hairy lummox”.  😠 Dorian: When did I do that? Blackwall: At the tavern, the blacksmith’s, the stable. You said it to the gateguards when we left Skyhold! Dorian: hmm... 🤔 yes, that does sound like me.   🤗 43. Dorian: Watch out where you point that thing! 😡 Iron Bull: Dirty! 😏 Dorian: Vishante kaffas, I meant your weapon! 😡 42. Dorian: What would you say Blackwall's best feature is, Vivienne? Vivienne: His absence, of course. 🙄 Blackwall: I can hear both of you. 😒 41. Dorian: Did you know we are actually related Inquisitor? Inquisitor: We, what? Dorian: Not first cousins or anything. Can you imagine?  Dorian: I however did a bit of digging in my family tree, and somewhere down the netheregions of my line there was also a Trevelyan. Dorian: Perhaps the one who went to Ostwick to establish the branch? I knew we looked so alike for a reason. 😏 Inquisitor: Um, yay?  Dorian: Indeed! 😁 Yay! 40. I’m always nice. 😏 39. Dorian: I don't know if you've heard, but the rumours are that you and I are... intimate. Inquisitor: That's not such a bad thing, isn't it? Dorian: I don't know, is it? Inquisitor: Do you always answer a question with a question? Dorian: Perhaps you would like me to answer in a different fashion? 🤔 Inquisitor:  If you're capable. 😅 Dorian: 😘🥰😚 Dorian: 'If you're capable.' The nonsense you speak. 🤭 38. Dorian: You caught the eye of a young woman in that last village, Blackwall. Blackwall: I'm sure you're mistaken. 😒 Dorian: You're right. She was undoubtedly looking at me.🤭 37. Dorian: Vivienne, I have only the one question - why the Orlesian fixation with masks? Vivienne: It is The Game, darling. You never show the players your true visage. Dorian: A strange custom in a culture where people assassinate each other for putting too much salt in the soup Vivienne: An extra hurdle to be overcome. Fail at The Game, and you die. Dorian: And you people call Tevinter barbaric. 🙄 36. Dorian: You are smiling a great deal these days, Cassandra. 😉 Cassandra: I am not... smiling. 😒 Dorian: Now you're not, but only because I pointed it out to you. Cassandra: I am not a giddy schoolgirl! 😡 Dorian: That would have been easier to believe if you hadn't just blushed. 🤗 35. You’ll be surprised at the credit my tongue gets me, your Reverence.  34. Dorian: Sera, I see you are having fun with your illustruous paramour- Sera: WHAT? 😨 Is it showin'? Dorian: What? NO, oh heavens NO. 🤢 Dorian: I meant to ask if you're enjoying your new relationship. Sera: Then why not just say that? 🙄 Dorian: I did... in words you apparently don't understand. 😑 Sera: What's the point of words you know and others don't? Who'd you say them to? 🙄 Dorian: Letmejustdobothofusafavorandretractthequestion. 😡 Sera: Pity, because we're doing great. That's why I'm following her around with weirdies 🤗 33. It was fun to goad you, Cassandra. You get that knot between your eyes when you're flustered - Ah, look, there it is! Delightful!  🤗 32. Dorian: I half expect my mother to materialize from the crowd to criticise my manners. Inquisitor: Where would we be if you mother we really here? Dorian: Short one mage, after he's been dragged out by his earlobe. Inquisitor: I have a hard deal imagining that. 😅 Dorian: Picture me a young boy of five years then. She certainly always has. 🙄 31. Dorian: 'Official Mage to the Orlesian Court'. Well that sounds exciting. 🙄 Vivienne: It's an esteemed position, darling. One many mages should envy. Dorian: Yes, I suppose being paraded around like an exotic peacock is better than frantically running from templars. 🙃 Vivienne: Better an exotic peacock than one Tevinter rat amongst many. Dorian: Oh? A dig at my homeland? This should be fun. 😏 30. Sera: Dorian? Those words you say. What do they mean? Dorian: What, you mean like mendicant or ultimatum? 🤨 Sera: No, arse, when you're mad. 'Pish-anty cough-ass'. You're swearing, I know it. Dorian: Ah, 'vishante kaffas'. It's Tevene, relics of the old tongue. We still use the colorful phrases. Sera: And it means what? Dorian: Literally? 😏  'You shit on my tongue.' Sera: 😂 Why not just say that?  Dorian: A mystery for the ages.  29. Sera: Demons! Flappy robes! Dorian: Thieves! Dog Stink! Sera: Culty shits! Dorian: Treacherous teyrns! Sera: Wha- It’s not a proper game of ‘Your people are shit” if you just make up words. 🙄 Dorian: A ‘teyrn’ is a Fereldan title, just below that of a king. I thought you of all people would know that. Sera: Well that’s just... I... smartasses 🤬 Dorian: Too late! I believe that’s my round. 🤗 Sera: Piss! 😠 28.  Vivienne: You’re rather amusing, Dorian. Dorian: Your outfit’s entertaining, I’ll give it that.🙄 Vivienne: Pretending to be a shark from a land of sharks. But you’re not a shark and you’ll never be one, darling. They knew this as much as we do.   Dorian: I could have of course pretended, wore fancy clothes, convinced everyone I’m something I’m not.  Dorian: Then I could take a position at court, whore myself out, and desperately hope no one realizes what a fraud I am.  Vivienne: Such snapping for a fish without teeth! 😂 Inquisitor: I cannot believe the way you two speak to each other. 😨 Vivienne: Inquisitor whatever is the matter? We’re having a perfectly civil conversation. Dorian: It’s true. I’ve heard worse from the gardener back home.  27.   Dorian: Varric, you owe me five royals. I’d like them paid in candied dates. 😉 Varric: I haven’t lost that bet yet, Sparkler. Dorian: You said we would be arse-deep in trouble. This is more like knee-high. Varric: I didn’t specify whose ass, did I? 😏 Dorian: Leave it to a dwarf always lowering the bar. 🙄 26. I hope you tried the ham they were serving, by the way. Tasted of despair. Fascinating. 25. Dorian: Vivienne, we can continue this dance forever if you like. Vivienne: Certainly. Provided both of us are capable. Dorian: I mock Orlesian frippery and nonsense, you slam Tevinter decadence and tyrrany. Dorian: There's however something more important we must remember. Vivienne: And what might that just be? 🤨 Dorian: At least we're not Antivan. Vivienne: 🤢 Quite right. Thank the Maker. 🙏 24. Cassandra: You're not as handsome as you think, Dorian. Dorian: Ah, but I must be! Or you wouldn't have been thinking about it all this time.  😏 Cassandra: Anyone who claims it as often as you must be dreadfully concerned they're not. Dorian: Look at this profile - Isn't it incredible? Dorian: I picture it in marble. 😏 Cassandra: 😒 23. Flying cows over Minrathous? Preposterous! Okay that one is actually true, but the cows didn't have wings. 22. Dorian: I have only one question, Sera: did you cut your own hair?  Sera: Yeah. Why wouldn't I? 🙄 Dorian: You could try using something other than a rusty butter knife. Sera: Oh, excuse me while I dig up my diamond-studded hair-cutting whatevers. 🙄 Dorian: Scissors. 😏 The word you're looking for is "scissors." 😏 21. Iron Bull: Quite the stink-eye you've got going, Dorian. Dorian: You stand there, flexing your muscles, huffing like some beast of burden with no thought save conquest. 😡 Iron Bull: That's right. These big muscled hands could tear those robes off while you struggled, helpless in my grip. Iron Bull: I'd pin you down, and as you gripped my horns. Iron Bull: I. Would. Conquer. You. 😏 Dorian: Uh. What? 😨 Iron Bull: Oh. Is that not where we're going? 🤐 Dorian: No. It was very much not.😳 20. You can't call me pampered, Varric. 🙄 Nobody has peeled a grape for me in weeks. 19. Sera: Dorian are you going to warn me the next time you bust out in demons or sumthin? Dorian: 😂 How exactly do you picture me 'busting out’? Dorian: I am just walking along and *OOPS* - demon? Dorian: I mean it could happen, after years of training. You could also trip and impale your eye on an arrow. 😏 Sera: So are you going to warn me or not? 🙄 Dorian: Certainly. But only because you're so dear to me. 😘 18. Dorian: For being so unnerved by magic, you aren't shy about benefiting from its effects.🤔 Sera: I don't. I use normal things, not magic. 🙄 Dorian: You consider swathing yourself in flame or ice 'normal' and 'not magic'? 🤨 Sera: For one: it comes out a bottle. Sera: For two: I mess up, I get burned. You mess up, your head chucks up a demon. Sera: For three: Bottle, little burned, no demons. So there. 🤗 Dorian: That was only... you know, if it lets you sleep at night, never mind. 😒 17. Festis bei umo canaverum! I swear, if you don't come through this, I will kill you. 😖 16. Dorian: The first time I entered the Fade it looked like a lovely castle full of silks and gold. 😍 Dorian: I met a marvellous desire demon as I recall. We chatted and ate grapes before he tried to possess me. 😇   Vivienne: 🙄😒😠😡🤬 Dorian: Yes? I hear your southern Harrowings are slightly more strenuous. 😏 15. What do they call this place? A "bog"? Lovely word for it.  🙄 14. Dorian: Solas, what is this whole look of yours about? Solas: I am sorry? 🙄 Dorian: No, that outfit is sorry.😷 What are you supposed to be, some sort of woodsman? Dorian: Isn't that a Dalish thing? Don't you dislike the Dalish? Or is it some sort of statement? Solas: No. 😠 Dorian: Well, it says "Apostate hobo" to me. 😏 Vivienne: Unwashed apostate hobo, more specifically. 🙂 13. I AM TOO PRETTY TO DIE 😭 12. Dorian: Amatus, it's been so long. Did you miss me? Inquisitor: A little bit. Dorian:  😂 'a little bit' he says. I'll show you a little bit! Just you wait. 😏 11. Dorian: Sera, where do you get your arrows from? You have so many. 🤔 Sera: From your arse. That's where. 🙄  Dorian: My arse should open up a shop. It's apparently quite prolific. 😁 10. Ah, this reminds me of the time Mother took me boating in summer. Or rather, she had the servants take me on the boat while she sat inside with a cool drink.🙄  09. Inquisitor: Things are going well with the Bull, I take it? Dorian: He's glad I've returned, if that's what you mean. Nearly crushed three of my ribs with that ridiculous hug. 🙄 Inquisitor: You say that as if you don't like it. 🤨 Dorian: For such a great beast, he can be such a terrible sap 🙄 Dorian: [bullvoice] "I want to talk about my feelings, Dorian". Dorian: Ugh. 🙄 Inquisitor: 😂 you do like it Dorian: Quiet you! He'll overhear, and then where I'll be?🤫 08. Dorian: Sera, I cannot believe you, of all people, are scared of magic. Surely you can see nothing wrong with a properly used tool? Sera: What about all the mages waving their proper tools in people's faces? Dorian: There's an image. 😁 Sera: "What about Corfyface? How many proper tools does he have under him? Dorian: That's not... I don't think I can continue. 😬 Sera: I don't care how gifted you are, don't cram it where it's not wanted. 😡 Vivienne: Maker, how does she not know? 🙄 07. Just once we should enter a cave and see normal sized spiders. 🙄 06. Cassandra: After all the places we have been, I hardly expected us to find ourselves in another cave. Cassandra: Still, as mad as our lives had been, I would take any chance to be together.  😘 Dorian: Why seeker, after all these years, I never realized you felt this way!! Cassandra: ... Dorian: ... Cassandra: 😒 Dorian: Oh, you meant him. 😶 05. Mountains! 😠 Cold! 😠 "Let's bring Dorian!". 😒 04. Dorian: I heard a little rumour that somebody has been doing some training. As an assassin no less. Inquisitor: I thought the skills might come in handy. Dorian: Yes, I suppose a little flair is welcome, with all the killing you do. Inquisitor: I don't kill that many people. 🙄  Dorian: Are you joking? I'm only surprised you didn't kill someone walking over here. 🤨 03. Cole: Breath painful, stabbing, and then real stabbing, lungs full, frothing, scent of apples as it all goes black. Dorian: 'Death By Applepie' - A lovely poem by our dear friend Cole.  02. Blackwall: Corypheus, one of yours isn't he? Dorian: One of my mine? 🙄  Like a pet? 🙄 Like a giant darkspawn hamster with aspirations of godhood? 🙄 Dorian: "Dorian, why can't you look after your little friends. Corypheus peed on the carpet again". Dorian: In this analogy, 'the carpet' is Haven. 😏 Blackwall: Is he or isn't he a Tevinter magister? 😒 Dorian: Meaning 'the source of everything bad in the world'? They are the same, yes? 😑 Blackwall: Sigh. Feels that way at times. 🙄 01. Inquisitor: No matter what happens, I wouldn't trade the years I spent with you for anything. Inquisitor: I love you. Dorian: I knew you'd break my heart, you bloody bastard. 😭

[mooshs-crack-headcanons]

Uhm...surprise!

Giveaway winner for @ophoney Full NSFW alphabet w/ Eustass Kid!

I'm so sorry with my breaks, sudden interest dip for one piece, and Kid being a character I struggle writing for, I'm so sorry that this took as long as it did but it's finally here! I really hope you enjoy! 

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Answered here. 

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Eutass Kid is most definitely a boob/pec type of guy and blood just absolutely gushes to his dick if you so happen to wear clothing that shows them off. During sexy times the very moment your shirt is pulled off your head it's guaranteed that his mouth will latch onto your nipples (and sometimes he'll even give the occasional honk with his hand) He just really likes the squishy feeling in his hand, lips, and under his teeth it doesn't matter how big or small your chest is a chest and he wants nothing more but to rub his cock between and just soak it with his come. It's very common to find both smudges of his lipstick and flakes of dried come smeared on your chest afterwards. 

On himself he would have to say - besides whole damn body (he knows he looks good) if he had to make a decision it would have to be his arms - well now just arm thanks to Red Haired, the man is strong and it about gets right to his dick if while sitting on his lap either on the deck of the Victoria Punk or in some booth at a random bar you just ran your fingers down ever so teasingly down his arms to come and give his muscles a squeeze (a honk, if you will) and this gets him extra hard and so since he loves getting a little rough with you be expected not to be in your place on his lap for very long to be slammed down on any given surface with his strength before clenching on tightly to your wrist and going to town on you from behind all the while he mutters all the dirtiest things to your ear anyone near be dammed (and Killer has had to apologize to countless of bar owners in the new world because of his captain's horny decisions) 

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Kid's cum is extremely thick and given his appetite, it tastes sort of bland but nothing too bad. He definitely likes seeing it on your skin, his personal favorite thing to do is busting inside of you then pulling out and watching all of his juices just flood out of your hole, that and how you look at him with lust dulled eyes and how your lips look as you pant down from your high, it's just the type of sight that always gets him ready for more rounds. 

The man treats your come as if it were crack once he gets some he can't get enough of it with how he's addicted to the way you taste. If he could, he would fucking live off of it. Sure receiving is fun and all but Kid has learned that giving is just as good, his oral game is very strong sure the first few times can be awkward but once he gets the full mental view of your body and all of your spots in his head he memorizes them and actively seeks them out to get you screaming for him. The moment your juices wash over his face does a wide grin appear on his soaked face as he tears away from your sex so you can get a good look at him to see his lipstick smudged (now smeared all over your thighs) and red hair disheveled and stuck to his forehead from sweat, before you can say anything his grin widens before commenting on how fucking good you taste before diving right back in to rock your world for more. 

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Kid and Killer have been best friends since they were kids so the two completely trust each other completely to where I see Kid having no problem with sharing a bed partner with him and the two have had done so for many years. Sure neither of them will just casually bring it up in conversation but if you just so happen to find out and are down for it, I don't think either of them would decline. 

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

So like D implied he definitely has had several on and off again and one night flings that would last depending on however long the crew would stay on an island to know the basics of what to do in bed. Although back then these flings were nothing more than entertainment or just a distraction from deeper inner struggles with himself, sex was just sex and besides the basic needs of that nights partner he'd tend to be really selfish and mostly focus on his on pleasures. But once he's with you and knows you're both in it for the long hall he learns how to balance pleasure out for the both of you to where both of your needs are greatly satisfied, after he is going to become King of the Pirates after he beats Kaido and Red Haired's asses and for you to be the one right there by his side with him and the rest of the crew you definitely deserve to know his both appreciation and adoration. 

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Answered here. 

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Sometimes he can be goofy without even realizing it. Like the two of you can be in the middle of doing the dirty where he's has a tight grip on your hip as he bounces you up and down his cock taking in your moans and cries and in his head he'll try and think of something smooth and sexy to say, which is a skill he can definitely do, but sometimes the sexy thought barrel just gets a few cogs stuck and he just says...the most random funny 'sexy' shit, the type that brings you out of the pleasure mindset and and to physically stop yourself from laughing. This of course gets Kid to stop mid thrust into you to demand what's so damn funny and at that that point you just lose it (this makes a pouty grumpy Kid but just give him some kisses and you should get yourself back into favor) 

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Kid is surprisingly very taken care of down there since he definitely cares a lot about his hygiene. The hair there is slightly lighter to the tulip that's on his head. 

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…) 

Now Kid isn't just the rough powerhouse magnet man we all came to know and love, he can actually be a gentleman at times and sometimes full blown romantic at others...just in his own way. He can be plowing you full steam ahead his hand grip tightly in yours and in grunts and groans tell you how fucking hot you looked whilst you fought those marines but his hand is tightly clasped in yours and kisses pecked all over your lower jaw to your neck before biting into your skin, taking in every moment as if it was his last. He can go multiple rounds but he always makes sure that you've at least came twice from either his tongue, fingers, or (and more preferably) his cock, he finds your needs extremely detrimental for any sexual situation and is determined to show how much he loves and appreciates you by this because those three words to him are extremely hard to personally say for him at times. 

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Yes, he'll shamelessly admit he does it often when he's feeling for it, though not as much these days now that you're around he does what to save as much of it as he can for you after all...

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Facial; honestly on both of you, but most you. Like I said in C, Kid absolutely looks the look of his come on your skin so seeing it sprayed on your face is just absolutely gold to him. 

Praise; it's simple it feeds his ego but also self esteem.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

He's down for doing it anywhere, but if he had to pick at least a few he'd pick; his personal shower because you both can get an easy clean then afterwards and his desk in his workshop because not only can he easily just easily fling things off of it with his fruit (since most things on it are metal) just having you bent over where he works is like one of the hottest images in the world. 

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Kid is still young so his sex drive is quite high so it's doesn't take much to get him horny, but one definite sure way is by either doing what I said in B squeezing (honking) his arms or wearing something that shows off your chest it'll immediately get his rocks going. 

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Kid is down to try most reasonable things at least once but he isn't a fan of using his devil fruit in bed despite the creative things he's thought of doing with it but he doesn't want to risk it by accidentally hurting you.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Like I said in C, his oral game is strong and after being your throat feels like heaven around his cock and he's absolutely addicted to your taste so honestly he can go either way. 

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Given his nature, Kid does tend to be on the rougher side but given the situation or circumstance Kid can be extremely gentle and absolutely loving. 

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Absolutely 100% down at any given time just say the word and Kid will whip it out in the nearest supply closet or alley (and poor Wire has a really bad habit of stumbling upon you two at the worst possible times)

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

This is Kid we're talking about, of course he's game for taking risks so doing the dirty in public absolutely thrills him. He loves pounding so restlessly into you as you have to bite on the back of your hand to keep any noises from slipping out any louder for him only to snap into you do sudden, hard, and fast that you completely gasp out and moan out his name before immediately slamming your hand back over your mouth and looking back pissed at him. Ah, it brings him such joy. 

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Like stated previously, Kid is still pretty young to have a high drive in him so he can rock your world for hours at a time in about 5-6 rounds before then conking out on you. 

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Yeah with the necessary resources I'd say he'd be able to build his own sex gadgets yo use on you, toys always brings a new twist to things, not that things get boring but it's always nice to have a breath of new fresh air once in awhile. 

Although to use them on himself...Kid would hesitant at first but after some convincing, he does try it out and oh boy - does he fucking enjoy it. They're of course nothing compared to you but they're definitely something, and for you seeing Kid turned from well...Kid to a whimpering whining mess is always a treat to savor.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Eutass Kid is one of the biggest teases of them all, both in and out of the bedroom. But in a bedroom sense, he likes to touch you and please you right like you want him to and the moment you almost crossed the threshold of pleasure he'll pull away with a grin telling you if you want to come so bad you're going to have to give him a damn good reason why he should let you. Cheeky bastard he is. But not to worry, he won't let you hanging for long (as soon as you beg for him at least) 

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Answered here. 

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Kid doesn't say "I love you" a lot but there are the moments he does which are the instances he puts all of his guards and facades down and just lets you have all him. One such instance was right after he lost his arm; feeling humiliated and dead set on planning revenge Kid completely shut himself off from the rest of the crew, especially you and Killer, you're the two he feels he's let down the most after all. So of course when you try and talk to him about this he shuts you off and when you tell him he's doing just that and that you're trying to support him a loud argument breaks out - but not the usual 'Kid flips over a table and some sort of scrap metal gets thrown somewhere' argument Kid completely opens up in the most cold harshest tone and tells you how he's failed the entire crew and how he's a disgrace of a captain for letting Red Haired get away with what he did. After that the both of you go quiet as the captain slumps back to his desk in defeat. After a very long discussion the sex between the two of you that night is the most sensual you've ever had, Kid isn't rough he's practically putty in your hands as he slumps back on the pillows behind him and watches as you ride him. Kisses are pressed everywhere and while you grip tightly onto him as you get closer to your end, he says it loud and clear. It honestly shocks you at first until he repeats it again and again until you both release. In your sweaty afterglow haze his hand hesitantly cups your cheek so that you meet the very serious yet loving look in his eyes and he says the words again, promising you he's going to personally change all of this and he's going to everything in his power to find the one piece to become King. 

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Not a surprise but Kid acts like a huge dick and he most definitely has one to match, like previously mentioned he's pretty well groomed down there. 

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Again like stated previously, Kid's sex drive is high he can on on for a long time and his horny average with you in the picture and you're down to it is about at least once every other few days. 

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Immediately conks out after a few minutes after busting, or sometimes immediately. He'll try to talk to you after it but eventually goes "nah fuck it, sleep." and passes out. Although it's after a quickie and there's still shit to be done he is able to compose himself to get done whatever it was he's supposed to do (bit it does encourage him to do the task faster, the man wants body holding (cuddling) time and sleep. 

If you like what you read please consider reblogging! It means the world for writers and artists!

[thestraggletag]

Roll for Initiative, a Rumbelle D&D Fic

Summary: Tales of the Enchanted Forest was the hottest online D&D game, in part for its charismatic players, in part for the twisted turns of the DM's mind and in part because of the outrageous chemistry between its greatest OTP, the party's beautiful bard and the Dark One, an anti-hero side-character who is there to provide information and uncomfortable levels of UST. Mr Gold thinks it's a harmless flirtation that could never become anything else, just like his silly little crush on the town librarian, Belle French.

He's wrong.

Rating: Explicit.

Author’s Note: Surprise, @argoslight​, it is I, your Gifter! Sorry to make you wait till near the end but I just had way more banter to write in me than I thought. I hope you enjoy your gift. I’m so sorry to not be able to add more D&D elements but since I don’t play I don’t have a lot of idea of what could be done. Also I apologise for any mistakes! And thanks so much to @little-inkstone for her help and D&D knowledge.

The castle was quiet when she entered, her steps echoing against the stone. It was gloomy inside, curtains obscured and decor sparse and sombre, the castle living up to its name. But there were flowers on the table, moon lilies, her favourite flower. They bloomed only in the Eastern Mountains past the Old Wall, but she had long since suspected he grew some on one of his enchanted hothouses, with the excuse of using them for potions. 

“Where’s the rest of your pretty little troop of do-gooders, dearie?”

The voice came out of nowhere, echoing around the empty halls of the castle. Thankfully she did not need directions, knowing exactly when to turn and where to go. Soon she found herself in a vast room, with a table on the centre and curios filled with oddities and the like. Some others were displayed on pedestals, including a rather fearsome sword and a nasty-looking crown made of thorns. None of the artefacts were what she sought, but she was not there to bargain for an item, but rather for information.

“Off on their own quests, taking care of other things that need doing.”

The voice tsked, seeming not to approve.

“They let you enter the lair of the beast alone? Some heroes.”

The woman lowered the hood of her cloak and walked towards the unlit chimney. Immediately a fire blazed to life, as if the castle itself was trying to cater to her comfort. The fire provided much-needed light as well, revealing the profile of a man in the shadows. Or something that looked like a man, at least, if not for the reflective scales that covered his body and its strange eyes: gold irises around catlike pupils.

“I asked to come alone. I felt like we could talk more openly this way.”

She removed her cloak, ostensibly to drape it across a chair near the fire and let it dry. The creature, however, seemed to read more into the gesture, tsking again.

“You come here all alone, a pretty little lamb, and take off the only real bit of protection you have. Reckless, dearie, most reckless.”

 The creature stood up, walking slowly towards the light, revealing more of its form as it approached her. Leather pants and a long, reptilian-looking vest and coat. It wasn’t particularly tall but power emanated from it in suffocating waves. She closed her eyes, finding his cloying presence strangely comforting. Then again, she had always been odd. 

“Once again your pitiful little party of friends needs my help. How they weigh you down, Beauty.”

He stepped fully into the light then, revealing a being more creature than man, the reptilian skin and claws as off-putting as his unnatural eyes. She should’ve taken a step back, should’ve gone for her blade or the dagger tucked into her left boot, but she didn’t. As much as she knew she shouldn't, she felt at ease in his presence. Well, perhaps not quite. She certainly felt a strange sort of anxiousness in his presence, a fluttery sort of feeling that she attributed to being particularly attuned to his magic. None of the other members of her party felt that way. If anything, he repulsed them, which wasn’t something she could understand. To her he was… magnetic.

“Are you in the mood for dealing or not? I can trade for information.”

He snorted.

“With what? Your little band of misfits is dirt poor. That idiotic paladin of yours ruined your last mission. You really should think about ditching the man. All brawn, no brains. At least your rogue is a smart woman.”

His gaze left her briefly, running down the length of her clothing: sturdy black boots, a nicely-cut dress that stopped around the knees and a sturdy belt with a few pockets for her spells. But the clothing, as well-made as it was, was dated, old. Looked worn and was signed and stained in places, and it left a lot of her frail human skin exposed. She had not been able to afford an upgrade in a while, preferring to spend her coin in what could benefit the group.

His moue of distaste disappeared once his eyes fell on her cloak. Well, his cloak, since he had been the one to make it. It was a lovely thing in varied shades of green, shot through with golden thread, his trademark. She had bought it off him a long time ago, a simple thing to keep her warm during cold nights and dry when it rained. Miraculously, though, it also did not sustain damage, looking exactly the same as when she had first put it on.

“I’m glad at least my protection is serving you well.”

He ran a claw along the seams of the cloak, making it glitter, like to like, magic calling for its own. He looked smug, as if pleased she was wearing something he had made.

“It does more than we bargained for. I’ve been blasted with magic strong enough to burn through most fabric but it has not even frayed. How strange of you, Rumplestiltskin, to lose out on a deal.”

He shivered when she said his name, walking behind her to the safety of the shadow she cast next to the fire.

“Can’t help it if my magic is just that powerful, my dear. I’m glad you are a happy customer. Always thought that cloak was a nice bit of magic. Can’t fault you for always wearing it.”

She felt him close in on her from behind, to the point that it almost felt like they were touching.

“It smells like you. That’s why I wear it all the time.”

The noise he made behind her was inhuman, a cross between a whimper and a growl. His claws scrapped against the back of her dress, the feeling muted by her stays, but she could feel his breath against the back of her neck and that alone was-

“Hey, this is a decent stream! Keep it PG for the kids, you weirdos.”

“Damn it, Grumpy, I wanted to see how long it would take them to snap out of it!”

“Sorry, Snow, but I ate a big dinner and I aim to keep it down.”

The messages in the chatroom wheezed by, mostly disgruntled complaints about their OTP never catching a break. The other participants in the stream were mostly silent, their mics muted likely to hide the amused snickers. There was no video feed on any of the members of the party, all of them represented instead by artwork to preserve their anonymity. Once upon a time that had been a fanciful choice, and perhaps a way to stay safe when interacting with strangers on the internet. Now it was mostly to keep their private lives from being overtaken by the popularity of their stream. “Tales of the Enchanted Forest” was shaping up to be one of the hottest D&D online streaming shows, already on its third campaign and counting.

“Beauty is just trying to get us some answers, Grumpy. We can’t just go stumbling about hoping to run into some fairy wand by chance.”

“Oh, it’s that what the kids are calling it these days?”

“Enough! Can we get back to the campaign already? It took me weeks to plan and it kinda hinges a bit on the Dark One helping, which needs to happen today.”

“Fine by me, dearie, if the dwarf can curtail his temper.”

The party was composed of five characters, a paladin, a cleric, a bard, a rogue and a thief, which along with the Dungeon Master made up the regular cast of every weekly stream. But given the popularity of the show, and the amount of time they had been playing, they had managed to amass a good amount of side-characters, guests invited every now and then to help the campaign move along and keep the interest of the audience. And by far the most popular of those guests was the Dark One, a wizard of unknown lineage and tremendous power that served both as an antagonist and a pseudo-ally depending on the situation. 

His presence was likely the reason why the livestream’s numbers looked so robust. He had amassed quite a fanbase, due in part to the commitment the player put on the character (the voice-acting was above and beyond what anyone could’ve expected from an amateur performer, and the backstory was quite complex, revealed in bits and pieces fans had meticulously assembled together) and in part to the chemistry he had managed to develop with the group’s bard, a half-human named Beauty.

“Okay, let’s all go back to what we were doing.” The DM’s voice was authoritative, though also more than a bit pissed off. “Okay, Beauty, you were about to try and cajole the Dark One to sell you the information you needed in return for a vial of water from Lake Nostos. Though the water is valuable, it’s not guaranteed to be enough to tempt the wizard. You have to roll at least a 13 in persuasion to make the trade. Roll when you’re ready.”

...

Rumford Gold stretched within the confines of the small backroom of his shop, where he had his computer stuff set up. Initially he’d bought the computer to better conduct his online business. His laptop at home wasn’t cutting it and it was better to photograph the antiques, update the website and handle the deliveries from his place of business. He had bought a good camera, some light fixtures and, on a whim, a microphone, for instances where he might need to virtually communicate with clients. It was something that was happening more and more, especially because a lot of his clientele was European. The internet had truly turned his antiquing- more of a hobby than a profession originally- into a profitable business.

He had gotten into watching D&D while waiting late at night for a client to become available in Austria. He had played as a lad, one of the few happy moments he could remember from his childhood in Glasgow, but had given it up once he had met Milah. And after they were over he had been too involved in making something of himself to remember past childhood enjoyments. But apparently D&D had evolved with the times and he had gotten into the habit of searching for and watching online D&D campaigns in his spare time. From that to actually being a side-character in one of them took almost no time. It was frightfully easy to go back to that frame of mind of playing make-believe, only now he had a distaste for the clean-cut heroic types and more of an affinity for the morally-grey, shady characters.

So he had auditioned for the role of evil-wizard when there had been an opening for a side-character in his favourite D&D stream, The Enchanted Forest. And though the DM had written what he considered to be a very flat, uninteresting character, he had been able to give it his own spin. He knew the DM hated him for it, hated when he deviated from what was expected of him, but people loved him. It was half the fun, pissing the DM off.

The other half, he had to admit, was Beauty. The one with the brains in the group, clearly, a half-human, half-fairy bard with an uncanny ability to think ahead, and arm herself with knowledge. Most of the other members of her party were more apt to try and decapitate something than negotiate with it, or even befriend it. Beauty prided herself on more of a gentle approach, which sometimes got her treated as the “fragile” one. He thought it just made her all the more interesting.

Their flirting had just kinda happened. He was half into it before he realised it had begun at all and by the time he had grown conscious- and self-conscious- of it fans were lapping it up and loving it. Even the DM, as loath as he was to admit it, found the banter engaging, even as if stole the spotlight from his story and where he wanted it to go. So every now and then he got invited into a stream, sometimes to interact with the whole party and sometimes, like the session he had just finished, to speak only to Beauty. And what was supposed to be a brief conversation before the party moved to greener pastures became a whole session, with the chatroom full of engagement and the view count off the charts.

But the DM had had a short tolerance span tonight, and had nipped things in the bud much sooner than usual. He felt… unfulfilled. Unsatisfied. Itchy, almost, in a way. So he was more than happy when he received an email from Beauty, who seemed to share his dislike of how the session had played out. They had started doing that more often, sharing emails after a session, even when he did not participate in it. It was harmless, he thought. Just an innocent online flirtation that could never realistically turn into anything. Not that his more in-person romantic overtures could ever pan out. He was in his third year of being completely smitten by the local town librarian, and in his second year of being able to put two words together in front of her without the help from Scotch, something he was perhaps a bit too proud of. And though he had decided very early on that the whole thing was utterly hopeless he had not been able to steer his thoughts or affections away. Realistically he was perhaps more in love with the idea of Belle French than the reality itself, given how little he had personally interacted with the woman. But he knew just enough to fill in the blanks and create a beautiful picture of how he imagined her to be: bookish- an easy assumption given how many times he had caught her in public places absorbed in a book-, kind, generous and delightfully able to hold a grudge and enact revenge when the time came. A bit reckless, and sometimes quick to form opinions, but also quick to revise them. A tactile person, with a great sense of fashion and a carelessness about what was expected of her.

He saw her in his head as clear as day, but little of that image was based on any personal knowledge of her. So, perhaps, he had found in Beauty a fictional substitute, someone he could talk to, and flirt with, without consequences, adopting the persona of someone more confident, more at ease with that sort of thing. The Dark One was comfortable in his skin in a way that he could only pretend to be sometimes. All the money and power he had accumulated over the years had helped him evolve from the spineless, cowardly lad he had once been, but when it came to certain situations, especially those that necessitated a level of vulnerability, he was still hopeless.

Perhaps, he wondered, it was better to think about his online liaison with Beauty as the real thing. They wrote to each other often, in and out of character, and over the course of their correspondence he had confided in her more than he had in any other person alive. Small things at first, every day peeves and details. Nothing that could identify them, certainly, but surprisingly intimate nevertheless. And over time it had grown to stuttering confessions and barings of the soul on both sides. She had told him of her teenage years in a mental asylum, the product of an overwrought widowed father trying to do right by his grieving daughter. He had had a few choice words to say about that, uncharitable thoughts about her father prompting his own willing sharing of the sad story of his childhood, neglectful father and all. It had felt nice, to confide in someone, someone he trusted.

He glanced at her email, where she lamented how their scene had not been as long or as satisfying as she had wanted, and saw she was proposing to meet later in a private stream to finish it the way they had both wanted. She had proposed something similar once or twice before and he had politely declined but now he wondered why not take her up on her offer. What was stopping him? His imaginary idea of Belle French, who in reality had never given him more than a polite smile in passing? Too young, too good, too beautiful to ever see him as anything other than an old cripple? Whatever he had built with Beauty felt infinitely more real, and attainable. A relationship without ever meeting in person seemed ideal in many aspects and, perhaps, if and when it came to meeting in the real world, his physical shortcomings would not be relevant, nor would it his rather uncharitable reputation.

He sent her a quick reply to arrange a meeting, feeling like a bit of roleplaying was, in the end, quite harmless. And if it were to lead to something a bit more meaningful, well, perhaps it was about time.

…

“Water from Lake Nostos. A key ingredient in most powerful potions and even some spells. I’m sure it could prove useful to you.”

The bard showed him the glowing crystal vial hanging from a long chain around her neck, with the glowing milky-white water from the cursed lake in it. He made a move to get closer to inspect it but the woman took a step back, tucking the vial back inside her bodice. The wizard’s eyes lingered there, hiz gaze growing intense. The bard felt her skin flush in response, something that felt a bit like fear but wasn’t running down her spine.

“And I’m sure a new wardrobe could prove useful to you, dearie. You’re practically wearing rags.” Rumplestiltskin made a show of running his eyes up and down her form with just enough disgust in his face to make it seem as if he was only noticing the rather sad state of her dress. 

“It’s my best gown, I’d thank you not to insult it.”

He made a moue of disapproval, shaking his head for good measure.

“You’re far from your days as a princess. I hope seeing the world is worth putting up with your band of idiots that waste most of the gold they earn with your wit in pointless goose chases that you know will lead nowhere.”

Beauty didn’t respond. There was nothing she could say to contradict what he thought of her party, none of which was charitable to say the least. And she also knew that he was aware that all of it was worth the freedom she had won when she had left her life in her father’s castle behind. She did miss one or two things, perhaps. Her mother’s vast library being one and, perhaps, some of the fashions. Not so much the silhouettes- she had never liked how the sea of petticoats she was always forced to wear restricted her movement- but the fabrics and colours, certainly. And the shoes.

“I’m here to make a deal, Dark One. Are you doing business today or not?”

Lesser creatures would’ve rather bitten off their tongues that throw cheek at the Dark One, but Beauty did not even bat an eye, lips curling in a defiant little smile that had the wizard smirking, something like admiration blooming in his chest. It’s what he loved most about his little bard, her spine of steel. And perhaps her blue eyes, but that was neither here nor there.

“I don’t do business with raggedy urchins, dearie. If you want to sit down and negotiate you’ll need a bath.” He made a face, as if he could smell her across the room. “And a change of dress, while I put your current outfit to wash… Or set it on fire, I haven’t decided yet.”

She could tell that he was pulling his punches, that he was playing at being repulsed by her state of dress and hygiene just bad enough that she would see he did not really mean it, not in any real way. She would’ve been able to tell either way, but it was nice that he thought it important to spare her feelings. And she couldn’t deny that a bath sounded heavenly after so many weeks on the road, sleeping out in the open and washing in freezing-cold creeks whenever possible.

“Well, if you insist…”

He took her to a well-lit and spacious bathing chamber, with the biggest copper tub she had ever seen, already filled with warm, soapy water that smelled of vanilla. She wasted no time after the door closed behind him, stripping quickly, careless of her worn and mended garments, and slipping into the tub. It was heaven on her tired muscles, and her dirty skin, and though she would’ve stayed there for hours she knew that every minute spent bathing was a minute less with the Dark One. Their time was limited. If she didn’t return to camp in the morning her party would venture into the castle, likely thinking the most dreadful scenarios. She could picture Charming attempting to kick the front gate open and getting hurt for his troubles. She could not let them worry for her, or risk the rapport she had developed with the Dark One by coming in unannounced. 

She got out of the tub with only a bit of reluctance and found a towel that she was convinced was enchanted to dry her faster than possible. She found clothing laid out in the adjoining dressing room, the undergarments soft and made of pale cream fabric and the dress of a lovely velvety, forest-green fabric, with a belt embroidered in small pearls that matched the detail about the neckline. She put it on gladly, twisting every which way to lace it up at her back. Living a less princessy life had made her acquire a number of small skills, including the ability to dress up mostly by herself even in gowns that did not lace up at the front, like most of her travelling clothes.

She did not spot her mauve travelling dress or her boots, but she was sure that Rumplestiltskin had whisked them away and would subtly mend them with magic, though she was sure he would deny it if she were to point it out. The green dress was accompanied by matching slippers, butter-soft and silent as they touched the stone floor. She made sure to dry her hair out, noticing how it shone red-gold in the flattering light of the candles, and took her time brushing it and styling it out of her face, so it fell flatteringly down her back. Her neck and most of her upper torso was bare but for the chain keeping the vial of water tucked safely against her breasts, the wide neckline of the dress dipping low enough to leave her collarbones bare, but she didn’t mind it. She was inside the Dark Castle, with the Dark One. She was safe there. On the road she always had to think about not attracting unwanted male attention. Here she rather felt like the opposite.

It was a silly infatuation, and many would argue any interest or desire on her part was due to the wizard’s power, which some would say was an aphrodisiac potent enough to make some look past the Dark One’s rather unfortunate exterior. No one would ever believe her if she confessed she rather… liked his appearance. The green-gold skin, the wild hair, the talons, but also the exquisitely-tailored pants and vests, the frothy cravats, the slim coats. A beast and a gentleman. A rather enticing combination, she had found.

She went downstairs into the trophy room once more, where two massive chairs were pulled up next to the roaring fireplace, the main source of light. The Dark One was sitting in one of them, a snifter gingerly held by a clawed hand, containing some sort of brown-gold liquid. He glanced at her the moment she entered the room, unwilling or unable to hide his appreciation for what he saw. He had removed his coat, leaving only his high-collared vest and one of his open shirts to cover his upper body, no forty cravat in sight. He seemed less guarded, more adventurous than he usually was when it came to matters of intimacy.

“You clean up well, dearie. Wish I could say the same for your dress. A wash will only do so much for it, but I refrained from throwing it into the fireplace. You’re welcome.”

“Good, as it’s not your property to destroy.” Beauty sat down, with a poise that betrayed her royal upbringing, and primly crossed her legs at the ankles. “So, Dark One, are you prepared to deal with me now?”

She had dealt with him dozens of times before, she had no idea why it all sounded so much like innuendo now. She couldn’t say she minded it.

“Of course, my dear. I’ve had time to think about our deal whilst you were splashing about in the tub.” His sing-songy voice broke, getting suddenly deeper for a second or two, as if he was struggling to retain his composure. “The vial is certainly a good start, but perhaps not quite enough. Now, I’m prepared to be generous given our long and fruitful history of dealmaking together, but I must also keep up certain appearances. So I thought I would also demand… an evening of your time.”

He tried to make it sound sinister, but she was past getting scared of him. At least in the traditional way. She raised an eyebrow, adopting a rather coquettish expression.

“And what would an evening of my time entail exactly?”

“Oh, well, you know. Companionship, perhaps a game of chess, some good wine, conversation and the like.”

She made a show of thinking it over before offering her hand, which he shook without delay.

“It’s a deal.”

Several hours later she had won two games of chess, one game of checkers, and was sipping from her third coupe of sparkling wine as she listened intently to a story about a deal the Dark One had once made with a king from a distant land. He was a gifted storyteller, engaging and funny, knowing exactly when to pause or gesticulate to keep the flow of the story just right. The king in his tale was rather unfortunate, in the sense that his hubris and arrogance had led him to make a deal with the Dark One that he did not understand. Most of Rumplestiltskin’s deals seemed to be like that, Beauty thought. And when he came to collect people dared be indignant that he demanded what they promised in the first place.

“The king was furious. Never let go of the grudge. Hired several assassins to try and kill me. A waste of gold, of course.”

He let out a trilling laugh, which soon proved to be contagious. Somehow, over time, it felt like their chairs had moved closer, because if she stretched out a hand she could easily touch him. Odd.

“Serves him right, for making such an open-ended deal. What a rookie mistake.”

She didn’t recall removing her slippers but she must have, because her feet were enjoying being pressed against the soft cushion of the chair. He made a gesture for her to lean close, which was a bit of a balancing feat, but she managed. Her heart skipped a bit when he leaned close too, almost pressing his mouth against her ear.

“You have no room to talk, sweet. You struck a very vague deal yourself, committing to an evening of conversation, chess ‘and the like’. That little turn of phrase is an invitation to all manner of sins, even the darkest and most decadent of debaucheries.”

He hissed the last part, making her shiver. Not content with letting him have the upper hand she turned her head so their lips were inches apart.

“That’s what I was hoping for.”

She could tell she had shocked him into inaction. Cocky Dark One, always in control of the conversation, always one step ahead of everyone else. It was nice to see him floundering, to catch him unprepared. Finally he gulped and put a little distance between them.

“Aren’t you the bravest little poppet.”

“My mother always said ‘Do the brave thing and bravery will follow.’ I’m a firm believer of the principle.”

Slowly, almost painfully so, both his hands clutched at the armrests of her chair, effectively pinning her to it. She knew she was supposed to be scared but she felt nothing but excitement, a buzzing just beneath the skin that made her strangely needy for something. Touch, perhaps, or more. The feeling was so overwhelming she did not realise at first that the laces of her dress were coming undone, as if invisible hands were painstakingly pulling them loose. She tried to make eye contact, but he ducked his head, pressing his face against the base of her neck, where it met her shoulder. She sighed, noticing how gentle he was, his touch feather-light, and discovering that she would not mind a rougher treatment. He was restraining himself, she realised, trying to be a gentleman. Sweet, but not what she wanted from him at that moment. Feeling bold Beauty carded a hand through his hair, pressing his face more firmly against her skin.

“Please, Rumple.”

Those two words seemed to have a magic of their own, producing a sudden and radical change in him. He moved too fast for her to see, wrapping her up in his arms and depositing her on the long dining table on the other side of the room. She did not know whether he used magic or simply moved inhumanly fast, but either possibility excited her, reminded her of the power of the creature looming over her, claws tugging at the unlaced bodice of her dress, dragging the velvet down to expose her undergarments. She was wearing the underbust corset he had provided over the snowy linen shift he had also left for her, so it was easy for him to simply tug the shift down a bit to expose her breasts. He leaned forward, nuzzling the space between her breasts, making a sort of satisfied purring noise as he sniffed up her clavicles and down her throat. Then, once he was happy with the level of squirming she was doing, he finally gave her what she wanted, closing his mouth, with all of its sharp teeth, around one of her rosy nipples. It was a strange feeling at first, more unfamiliar than pleasant, but when he began to suck it changed completely, little shocks of pleasure running from her nipple to between her legs. It was amazing, more than she had ever achieved with her own hands whenever she could get some privacy at night, and the feeling doubled when he grasped her untouched breast, his long claws estimulating the other nipple.

She sunk both her hands in his hair, fisting it in an effort to keep herself from squirming too much, feeling both aroused and impatient. She kept waiting for him to tire of her chest and move further down but when he was finally done sucking her nipples his head moved north, his lips blinding searching for hers till they were kissing. It wasn’t anything like any kiss she had experienced before, not even the unpleasant smack her former fiance had forced on her. Though it was just as forceful there was a wild quality to it, one she had never associated with the affectionate gesture. It was heavenly, the release of passion, far from cooling her down, setting her on fire, stoking her need for him till it felt like she would explode if he didn’t give her relief. 

He must have sensed it, her desperation calling to him like a siren song, because at some point he let go of her mouth to travel south, past her aching chest, and velvet-covered belly to where the skirts of her long gown kept her modestly covered. He wasted no time dragging the heavy fabric up, letting it pool around her hips along with the white linen of her shift. She did not have any other undergarments, having not been provided with any, so she was completely exposed to his gaze, from her milky things to her round hips. She squirmed, trying to picture what he must be looking at, the trim thatch of chestnut curls at the apex of her legs, obscenely drenched by this point and making a poor show of trying to hide the pink, glistening flesh beneath.

“What a lovely cunt you have.” His voice was dark, guttural, a monster trying to speak like a man. It thrilled her. “Let me drink from it, precious.”

He didn’t wait for her reply, choosing instead to simply bury his head against her flesh, his tongue rough and wide as it lapped at her field parting them to seek out the bundle of nerves that was throwing for attention. She arched her back, feeling like it was only her firm grip on her thigh and hip what kept her anchored to the table. She fell into a rhythm of sorts, her body seeking out something she could not find but his mouth striving to compensate, to give her what she needed. It was heavenly and seemed to last an eternity, the sensations building up till everything but them faded away, all sensations muted. She felt him move to, thrusting his hips against the edge of the table, making it rattle in a way that spoke of his sheer brute force. It was heady to have someone like Rumplestiltskin, who had always strived to don the mask of a gentleman around her, be so unhinged, so animalistic. More than anything it was that complete loss of control what drove her over the edge. She cried out, feeling her inner muscles coil and her senses spiral out of control, her orgasm leaving her dizzy. It seemed to last forever and not nearly long enough. She laid there for a while after the feeling passed, feeling satisfied and wanting at the same time. A few seconds later he also keened, slumping against her still-parted legs, his hair tickling the soft skin of her inner thighs.

They lay that way for what seemed like ages, while they scrambled to try and collect themselves. The afterglow did not feel awkward or uncomfortable, and it loosened up her tongue enough to venture out that she had hoped for an even more intimate act, a joining that was even deeper than what they had done.

 “A deal for such a prize would have to involve all my deepest secrets, my most valuable truths.” He paused, pressing his forehead against the silky inside of her thigh, like a penitent would. “One day, perhaps.”

...

“Do you want to meet? I think it’s time.”

The orgasm had mellowed him out, otherwise he was sure he would’ve at least panicked a little bit. But in the afterglow of what they had just shared, albeit virtually, a meeting did not seem like such a bad idea. In hushed voices they arranged the time and place, tomorrow at a café and bistro in Boston. Nice and public, for both their safety. They knew both lived near Boston, so it seemed natural to pick the city. The drive wasn’t too bad, and he hoped it wasn’t a great inconvenience to her either.

Reluctantly they said their goodbyes, both trying to prolong the moment a bit more till they were both close to nodding off. With a final, reluctant goodbye they both disconnected, leaving Gold to clean himself up and make his way home. With his rumpled suit, disheveled hair and five o’clock shadow it must have looked like the walk of shame. It certainly didn’t feel that way.

...

He woke up in a happy mood, perhaps the best in a long time. Far from feeling stupid or embarrassed about his little bit of roleplaying-turned-porn-session he felt smug, empowered by the notion that he had made a smart, desirable woman come with only his voice and imagination. He felt like he was on the brink of something, as if an exciting possibility was opening up for him. 

He went about his day with a bit of a spring in his step, though most citizens of Storybrooke would be pressed to notice. It was only when he saw the book on gardening he was due to return to the library that afternoon- his two Moth orchids had developed small water-soaked spots on the leaves and he had wanted to consult some verified sources instead of relying exclusively on Google search results- that his mood dampened somewhat. As nice as last night had been- bloody fantastic rather- it did make him sad, somewhat, to give up his crush on Belle French. However unattainable it was still nice to have it, that bit of feeling that did not need to be reciprocated to be real. It had been nice to feel something for someone for a change, to look forward to each smile and each small conversation. But it wouldn’t be right, and what he had now was more valuable in any case. Perhaps, with time, he would grow out of his infatuation with the librarian and they could be friends. That would be rather lovely.

He crossed the street towards the library around three o’clock, wanting to beat the rush caused by children being let off school, a busy time for one of the only kid-friendly places in Storybrooke. There were some patrons about, and the afternoon light made the library look truly beautiful. Miss French truly worked miracles with her limited budget.

He found her easily, shelving a few books in the poetry section, and tried not to preen when she smiled widely at him.

“Mr Gold, hi! Always a pleasure. Here to return a book?”

The librarian was always sunny and welcoming, but she looked even happier that day, an excited sort of energy practically rolling off of her in waves. Thank goodness he had decided to give up on his silly little crush, otherwise he might have buckled under the power of her brightness. 

“Yes. And you look particularly happy today, Miss French, if I might say so.”

The librarian smiled even more, if possible, and leaned close, as if to tell him a secret.

“I have a date tonight.”

It hurt, the slightest bit, the shock making him take a step back, but less than it would have yesterday. And perhaps, he reasoned, this would be good. This would put them both in the path of becoming friends, allowing him to leave his crush behind much faster. He forced himself to enquire politely after the lucky man, listening as she talked about someone she had been flirting with for a long time now, and it seemed like the relationship was finally ready for the next step.

“I’m really happy. And very nervous. It feels like such a risk, after all this time building something that could easily fizzle out with a first date. But I’ve always believed in doing the brave thing, and bravery will follow. It’s what my mother always said.”

She had turned back to shelve a book as she finished the last sentence, so thankfully she did not see his jaw drop and his eyes widen, his surprise so visible no one could’ve missed it. His heart lurched in his chest, sheer and sudden panic making it difficult to breathe. Fuck. Fuck. It wasn’t possible. Belle was Beauty. Belle was Beauty. He tried to contradict the notion in his head but he had known Beauty’s British accent was passable but fake, and it made sense for him not to have identified her voice when she usually spoke with her natural Australian drawl, something he associated so closely with her. Everything else he had ever found out about Beauty, in and out of the D&D setting, coincided with what he knew, or thought he knew, about the librarian, one of the reasons why he had developed a crush on her in the first place.

The initial shock was followed by a spike of elation and then a sinking feeling of dread. He needed to cancel. She would be disappointed, but more disappointed if he didn’t and she realised her crush was a man a good deal older than her that was known for being the town monster. It would be awkward and she would not be able to escape him after it, both doomed to meet each other often, given the small size of the town. He could not put her through that.

He stopped himself then, noticing the familiar dark turn of his thoughts, dipped in so much self-loathing it was almost stifling. And he wondered if he really was thinking about Belle or about himself. Being a coward, taking the easy way out. He thought about how he had woken up, the world full of promise and the future bright with the possibility of something great on the horizon. And how he had felt brave last night, to leap into something that had been so worth it. Perhaps it was time to be brave more often. Do something, however small. Put the ball in her court, somehow.

“I wish you the best of luck, then. Perhaps some other time, if you’re not too busy, you could pop into my shop. I have a few antique books I feel you would appreciate.”

It was a nice recovery, and he was happy to see her smile, apparently welcoming the proposition. Everyone knew Mr Gold’s shop was only to be entered when making deals. He didn’t really allow idle perusal of his stock and no one had the money or interest to buy his antiques. His business was conducted mostly with people from major cities on the East Coast.

“Wow, an open invitation to traipse into Mr Gold’s shop, that’s not something one sees everyday. What do you want in return? I hear only deals can grant you access to the shop.”

She made sure to make it clear she was joking, something he appreciated. Feeling emboldened by her kind gesture he adopted a slightly higher pitch and replied:

“Oh, nothing much. Companionship, perhaps a game of chess, some good wine, conversation and the like.”

Being close enough he got to see as it dawned on her, as her brain quickly processed what he had said and where she had heard it before. And he knew, knew because of the way she looked at him, as if she did not recognise him, as if he was a brand new person to her, that she understood the implication, what he had meant to tell her without actually telling her. 

“Hope to see you soon, then. Good luck with the date.”

He turned around before he could second-guess himself, feeling terrified by what he had exposed but satisfied at the same time. This way it was Belle’s choice to show up. For all she knew he had no idea that she was Beauty. She could make up an excuse and simply not meet her, and their worlds would never merge. If she did not want to pursue anything between them all she had to do is cancel the date, or not show up. He would respect her decision and never push for anything, or acknowledge their online relationship in the real world.

He sent her an email just as he was about to get into his car, letting her know that he understood that this meeting was a bit of a risk and he would understand if she backed out at the last minute. There were other things he could do in Boston, and he was not adverse to having dinner by himself. And they could still be friends, no matter what she decided. He was halfway to Boston when he heard his cell phone ping, letting him know he had a new email. As he expected, it was from Beauty:

“I’m on my way. Can’t wait to meet you! See you soon.”

He smiled.

[joonie-beanie]

Feline Charms

Pairing: Satan x Reader

Word Count: 5,753

Preview: After sneaking into Satan's room to return a book for Mammon, you end up coming in contact with a charm that turns you into a cat. Everything starts off innocently enough, but...

“Can you not feel it? The way your tail is wagging behind you—like you’re ready to pounce. Did you enjoy the outcome of me getting frustrated with you?”

"I..."

"If you admit it, I'll give you what you what."

"What do you think I want?"

“I think you want me to be rough with you. I never thought of you as the type to get off on being dominated, but I can see now that I pegged you wrong. You’d love to be used until you’re just a toy with no thoughts of your own, wouldn’t you?”

** Please note that this is a cross-posting **

This chapter was originally posted on 2/6/2020 as a part of my “Devil Doms” series on AO3.

This is all Mammon’s fault.

…as things usually are.

The Avatar of Greed had begged you for a favor; “ya gotta take this book back to Satan’s room for me. He’s pissed because I haven’t given it back yet—but if you’re the one who takes it, then at least you’ll make it out alive!”

So, you’d agreed out of the kindness of your heart, and had made your way to Satan’s room. After knocking and receiving no response, you debated taking the book back to Mammon and telling him you had tried. Instead, you test the doorknob, and are surprised to find that it’s unlocked.

With all the precious books Satan treasures so dearly inside his room, he tends to lock the door when he’s not home. After all, the last thing he needs to deal with is another body-switching incident, or worse.

For a moment, you hesitate. You don’t want to invade his space without permission, but…all you need to do is take a few steps in, set the book down, and leave. What could possibly go wrong?

Pushing the door open, you cautiously pad your way into the book laden room. You fear that simply leaving the book on one of the many stacks won’t be obvious enough. It will likely blend in, and as annoying as Mammon is at times, you don’t want Satan to maim him.

So, you opt for placing the book somewhere more obvious—like Satan’s desk on the other end of the room. Making your way over, you place the book directly in the center of the flat wooden surface, and then rip a piece of paper out of the notepad resting nearby.

A gift from Mammon –Y/N

You smile at your own sense of humor, and set the note on top of the book. Turning, you begin to head for the door, but a flash of gold catches your eye. You pause, walking over to the source of the gleaming metal.

On top a pedestal is a book with a golden charm. You note that the charm is in the shape of a cat—almost like one you’d find hanging off a middle schooler’s backpack--and giggle to yourself.

Despite what Satan says, you know he has a soft spot for felines, and it’s adorable.

Reaching forward, your hands skim the soft white pages of the book. There’s an illustration of a cat in the middle of the page, and you have just enough time to make out the word’s “magic” “charm” and “water” before there’s a clicking sound behind you.

Panicked, you jump, and accidentally stumble—losing your balance. The only thing to help steady you is the pedestal, and you reach out to grab it. However, as you do, you touch the golden charm, and suddenly the world has gone black around you.

What the hell? You think to yourself, aimlessly reaching out. It feels like there’s fabric around you, and after a moment you manage to find some light ahead. Pushing your way through the darkness, you blink at your new surroundings.

It still seems like you’re in Satan’s room, but…everything is…much larger.

“Guess I forgot to lock it,” you hear the Avatar of Wrath mumble, and your blood runs cold. How are you going to explain why you were snooping around in his room?! Returning a book is one thing, but clearly you’d done something wrong, because his room is about 5x bigger than before!

“Satan, I--,” you open your mouth to explain, but the only sound that comes out is a…meow?

Blinking, you hold a hand up in front of you, but instead you only see fur, and a 5 squishy pink toe-beans.

“Oh? How did you get in here?” you hear Satan speak again, and suddenly a hand is tucking beneath your belly. You squeak in surprise, wide eyes turning up to face the blond man now holding you. There’s a perplexed look on his face, but he doesn’t seem mad.

“Satan, it’s me!” you try to say, but again, the words come out as mewls. Satan frowns, leaning in closer.

“What’s wrong? Are you hungry?” he asks, and you vehemently shake your head. The clear side-to-side motion obviously surprises the Avatar of Wrath.

“Well, you’re a smart one, aren’t you. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

You nod, and Satan takes a few steps forward, placing you gingerly on top of his desk. You sit, staring up at him—so badly wishing you could just explain the situation. At least when he and Lucifer had switched bodies, they’d still been able to communicate.

Unsure what to do, Satan cocks his head to the side and stares back at you.

“Cats, as cute as they are, typically aren’t so…aware,” he mutters to himself. Reaching a hand forward, he rubs your head, and you immediately startle. However, after a second you realize how soothing the feeling is, and can’t help but lean into his touch.

Satan chuckles. “Feel good?” He moves to mess with the furry ears on your head, and you melt at the feeling, a purr rumbling in your chest uncalled upon. The sound startles you, and you know that you should really be focusing on the issue at hand—but damn.

“Y/N would likely be happy to meet you. She loves cats,” he muses to himself, and hearing your name manages to snap you out of it. You duck out from his grasp, taking a step back and staring at him sternly. Satan eyebrows raise.

“What?”

You lift your front paw and then slap it back down on the desk—something akin to a child stomping their foot in dissatisfaction. Satan looks positively bewildered.

Unsure what to do, he attempts to reach for you again, but you dodge his hand. As you do so, you notice the note you had left him nearby, and immediately dash over to it.

“Look!” you cry, your desperation reflected in meow that leaves you. Curious, Satan glances over. He takes the small note into his hands, his eyes scanning over the words. His brows furrow, clearly wondering why the feline that had magically appeared in his room is so adamant about this note, but after a moment realization shines in his eyes.

He looks from the note, to you, and back again. Then, his eyes stray to the other side of the room, where the book with the golden charm is now laying face-down on his floor.

“…Y/N?” he questions, as if not believing it himself. You nod, your head hanging in both embarrassment and relief. You’re glad that Satan is smart, because if it were anyone else, you’re not sure they would have thought twice about your un-feline-like reactions.

Sighing, the Avatar of Wrath brings his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Let me guess…you came to return Mammon’s book for him because he’s a coward, accidentally touched the charm on the other book, and now you’re a cat?”

You meow your affirmation, and Satan shakes his head—a tiny chuckle sneaking past his lips.

“Of course.”

Turning, he moves to pick up the book that obviously contains some sort of magic, and moves to sit in a chair nearby. Curious, you pad your way over to the edge of the desk and watch him.

“I just got this book recently. I knew that the charm hanging on it contained a spell, so I was being careful not to touch it, but…,” he trails off, and you feel your ears flatten in embarrassment. Satan notices, and reaches over to pet your head. Again, the feeling is strange to you, but not unwelcome. If anything, you want to sprawl out and let him run his hands over your fur, but…that seems a bit strange, even if you are trapped in the body of a cat at the moment.

“It’s not your fault. We’ll blame Mammon,” he says, trying to cheer you up, and it works.

Turning his attention back to the book, Satan quickly scans through the pages. Your curiosity gets the best of you as you watch him, and you daringly hop off the desk onto the arm of the chair. Satan blinks in surprise, watching you as you unthinkingly make your way onto his lap. You take a seat on his thigh, your innocent gaze peering up at the book, and he can’t help but laugh.

“Maybe I won’t turn you back,” he says, his fingers moving to rub your ears once more. “You’re very cute like this.”

You whine at his words, head turning to look at him. Your eyes are nearly begging, and despite himself, Satan lowers his book and bends down to kiss the top of your head.

If you were human, you’re sure your face would be the color of a tomato.

“I’m joking. Give me a few minutes to read. I haven’t gotten to the section about spell nullification yet.”

You nod, understanding, and patiently wait.

Sure enough, after a short while, Satan makes a satisfied grunt, and closes the book. You jump up in excitement, looking back at him. He responds by picking you up—cradling you against his chest as he begins to pad across his room.

“Unfortunately, it seems that I can’t break the spell. It will wear off naturally within the next 24 hours. However, according to the text, there is a way to lessen the effects.”

Your ears perk up curiously at that, your eyes taking in your surroundings as Satan leads you up a spiral staircase and to a part of his room you’ve never seen before. At the top of the stairs, you find a nook with another chair and another book shelf. Just beyond it is a doorway, and as he traverses the threshold, you note that the inside of the adjoining room is much cleaner—a perfectly made bed positioned against the middle of the far wall.

However, Satan doesn’t lead you to the mattress. Instead, he diverts to another doorway, and beyond it you find a bathroom. It’s spotless—a spacious, dark tiled shower located in the corner. The walls of the shower are clear glass, and Satan makes his way to the door—pulling it open.

You watch him eagerly as he reaches inside, turning on the water. Immediately droplets begin to rain down from the showerhead—and he places his hand into the stream, waiting for it to warm.

You meow up at him, wondering what he’s doing.

“Water, apparently, is an aid to nullification,” he explains.

After a few seconds, steam begins to fog up the glass walls, and Satan bends to set you on the ground.

“Go on,” he tells you when you stare up at him. However, your instincts are screaming at you to run away. You’re pretty sure it’s because you’re a cat—and cats hate water—but no matter the logic you try and convince yourself with, your body doesn’t move.

Satan frowns. “What?”

You shake your head, fur standing on end as you back away from the evil shower. Realization dawns on the demon, and he sighs—finally getting a bit irritated.

“You don’t want to go in the water because you’re a cat?”

You whine in affirmation, taking another step back. The Avatar of Wrath narrows his eyes.

Abruptly, he reaches down and grabs the hem of his green sweater. You stare in shock as he pulls the fabric over his head—his blond hair messy at the action. Next, he undoes his belt, and slips off his shoes and socks—tossing them to the side.

It’s in that moment that you realize what he’s planning, and without thinking twice, you make a break for the door. Seriously, if you were in your right mind, you would have just gotten in the shower. After all, it’s not like you want to stay a cat! But your feline nature is affecting your actions, and right now, warning alarms are sounding in your head.

“Oh, no,” he speaks up, closing the bathroom door in your face before you can escape. You bristle, turning and trying to find somewhere to hide, but he scoops you up before you can. Satan holds you tightly to his chest, making his way back to the shower, and you push against him. Your claws draw lines in the skin on his chest, and he gives you a little squeeze in warning.

“Stop. Don’t make me punish you,” he growls, finally pulling the door to the shower open and stepping inside. You cry out as the hot water washes over you—struggling against him to break free and escape—but Satan has no intention of letting you go.

You feel your claws sink into his skin once more, and you see anger beginning to seep onto his face—but before either of you can react, something happens. The world around you blurs, and when you regain your bearings, you find your face just inches from Satan’s.

He’s still holding you tightly, and it doesn’t take long for you to realize that you’re…

Your cheeks flush deep pink as you experimentally move—feeling your wet breasts slip against his chest.

…oh god. You’re naked.

“Satan, I--,” you babble out, intending to apologize, but when you look back up, Satan captures your lips with his own. You startle, goosebumps rising on your skin as he loosens his hold on you—one of his hands moving to rest on your hip as the other moves to tangle in your hair.

“Mm­--!” you cry when he sternly yanks on the wet strands, effectively deepening the angle of the kiss. His tongue claims your mouth as his own—swallowing up your whines—and despite yourself, you begin to feel arousal swirl in your gut.

“I told you to stop. You didn’t,” he speaks after pulling back, his displeased emerald eyes boring into you.

You know from experience that Satan’s anger appears as if flipping a switch, but this is the first time he’s responded like…this.

“I…,” you blush, unable to look away. “I didn’t want to fight you, but my instincts…”

He stares at you for a few long seconds, his grip on your hair gradually loosening, before he sighs and releases you.

“I’m sorry,” he says, reaching past you to turn off the water. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, blushing. Your arms raise and hug your chest—thighs pressing together—and suddenly Satan is turning red as well. For a second there, he’d forgotten that you’re, um…ahem.

“I’ll grab you a towel,” he says, pushing the shower door open and stepping out. He rummages around in a nearby cabinet and you hesitantly follow after him—stepping out onto the cold tile floor. When he turns back and notices you standing there, you note that his eyes do a quick rake of your body before he hurriedly averts his gaze.

“Here,” he says, holding the towel out.

“Thanks,” you respond, taking it from him. He idles for a moment, seemingly lost. And to be fair, you’re not quite sure how to act in this situation either. It’s not like you had ever expected to be naked in Satan’s bathroom after accidentally turning into a cat.

“I’ll, uh, let you dry off,” he eventually speaks, coughing, and turns to leave. You nod, waiting until he’s gone to start drying yourself off. You start with your arms—quickly brushing the towel down your front, and then your legs. It’s not until you move to run the towel down your back that you jump in surprise—a certain spot above your tailbone unexpectedly sensitive.

What the--, you think, stepping in front of the mirror nearby. What you find causes a small cry to slip from your lips.

“Y/N?” you hear Satan question from the other room. Quickly, without really thinking, you reach for the nearest piece of dry clothing—shove it over your head—and then burst out of the bathroom.

“I have ears!!” you exclaim, appearing inside the bedroom in nothing but Satan’s sweater. “And a tail!”

The Avatar of Wrath stares at you with wide eyes, his brain trying to process the sight in front of him. If your outburst isn’t startling enough, seeing you standing there—barely covered by his shirt—definitely raises the stakes.

“I did say water would cure only some of the effects,” he tells you, and it’s in that moment that you realize he’s standing just feet away from you in nothing more than a fresh pair of boxer-briefs. Your eyes drag down his toned torso, pausing when you notice a bulge in the fabric, angled against his thigh.

Satan notices where you're looking, and is about ready to apologize again—making excuses regarding why he’s rock solid—when he notices that your tail is waving behind you. Pausing, he glances up to your face, and finds that your pupils are dilated as well.

Clarity washes over him, and a wicked grin spreads on his lips.

“Did you like it? When I kissed you in the shower?” he asks, posing a hand on his hip. The cocky look on his face catches you off guard. How is he able to so easily switch between being kind, and…sadistic.

“W-What? Why are you asking?” you retort, cheeks flushing pink. Your hands grip the soft fabric of his sweater as he takes a step forward.

“Can you not feel it? The way your tail is wagging behind you—like you’re ready to pounce. Did you enjoy the outcome of me getting frustrated with you?”

You can feel your heart thundering in your chest—embarrassed, and nervous, but…the way he’s speaking also has arousal pooling between your legs.

“I…”

He’s bearing down on you now, one of his hands lifting to tenderly rub against your cheek. You can’t take your eyes off of him—watching his face carefully as he wraps his other arm around your waist, dragging you into him.

“If you admit it, I’ll give you what you want,” he says, his fingers lightly coasting up the skin on your face. You feel his touch on your ears—ears that are fuzzy, and usually not on your head—and the sensitivity of them has you gasping quite loudly.

You attempt to escape his touch (despite your instincts, which are currently screaming at you to let him continue, because god it feels so good), but Satan isn’t letting you go anywhere. With his arm wrapped around you—you’re stuck. There’s no way you can beat him in a game of strength.

“What do you think I want?” you manage to respond, mustering up a bit of courage. It’s not in your nature to just let someone talk to you like that without teasing them back. Satan, however, is blunt with his rebuttal.

“I think you want me to be rough with you.” His fingers leave your ear, moving down to wrap around your throat. His grip is firm—not enough to choke you—but you still feel light-headed nonetheless.

“I think that despite attributing it to a natural feline reaction, you enjoyed the repercussions of our little chase in the bathroom.”

He takes a step forward, and your back hits the doorframe. Still, you’re unable to look away from him—his bright eyes full of unspoken promises.

“I never thought of you as the type to get off on being dominated, but I can see now that I pegged you wrong. You’d love to be used until you’re just a toy with no thoughts of your own, wouldn’t you?”

Your breathing has picked up now—fanning in hot puffs between your bodies. Each of his words causes sinful scenarios to bloom within your mind—and you feel your pussy clench around nothing—hot, and aching to be filled.

“But…if I’ve got it all wrong, just tell me to stop, and I will,” he says, taking a small step back. However, you don’t want him to stop. You desperately want more.

Without missing a beat, you close the gap he had created—your lips greedily capturing his own as you lift your hands to cup his face. Yet, as soon as you touch him, Satan is pushing you away—your back roughly hitting the wall behind you.

His fingers tighten around your neck.

“If you want more, I expect a verbal response.”

“Please touch me,” you respond, breathless. Satan leans in, your lips nearly touching, and he looks you in the eye.

“Tell me how. If I’m not satisfied, you won’t get anything.”

“I…,” your mouth feels dry—brain amiss with the amount of desperation currently afflicting you. You’ve never needed to be touched so badly before. If Satan doesn’t fulfill your desires, you’re not sure what you’ll do.

“I want—,” your words are cut off as a gasp involuntarily escapes your mouth. Satan’s other hand has found its way between your legs—two fingers rubbing between your soaking folds.

“D-Didn’t you just say I wouldn’t get anything?” you question, thighs clenching against his hand—desperate for more. He cocks an eyebrow at you, an infuriating smile on his lips.

“Does this really count as something?”

His fingers tease at your entrance, barely dipping into your pussy. Even if you think of grinding down to force him deeper, his hold on your neck prevents you from doing so—and you whine as he pulls his fingers away—simply continuing to tease your womanhood while neither touching your clit nor pushing his digits inside of you.

“I would suggest saying what’s on your mind, Y/N. You shouldn’t be a mindless slut just yet, considering I haven’t really touched you.”

His words have you feeling warm all over, but you decide to listen.

“I want you inside of me,” you say, starting off innocently enough. You’ve never verbally been lewd before—the idea of telling someone what you want them to do to you while they’re standing right there is a bit terrifying—but you know if you don’t start somewhere, you’ll never get what you want.

“I want you to finger fuck me until my knees buckle, and I’m begging you to let me cum.” You get braver with every word, and when you feel Satan’s cock strain against your stomach—trapped in the tight space between your bodies—a wave of satisfaction emboldens you.

“Your sweater smells like you—so very good—and I want you to rip me out of it. To punish me for wearing what’s yours without permission. I want your hands on me—pushing me down into your mattress and grabbing my hips as you fuck me with little regard for my own pleasure—only chasing after your own.”

Satan’s breathing is a bit gruffer now—his face burying against your shoulder as his hand drops away, coming to momentarily rest near your hip. You feel his canines scrape the flesh on your neck—his hand sneaking beneath the hem of his sweater and dragging upward—and goosebumps rise on your skin. Your confidence momentarily falters—a hot wave of arousal jumbling your thoughts—but you continue.

“I want you to have your way with me knowing that what I desire doesn’t matter. You’re in charge, and I have no say—just the way it should be. The Avatar of Wrath’s personal little pet.”

Without warning, he bites down on your skin—two of his fingers slipping inside of your pussy at the same time. A breathless whine escapes you—pain and pleasure mingling—and when you attempt to grind your hips down on his hand, he nips at you again.

Immediately you cease all movements, wincing at the sting, but you’d be lying if you said the pain didn’t turn you on. And Satan knows it does. He can feel your pussy clenching around him, getting even wetter as he soothes his tongue over the marks on your neck.

“Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad--,” he speaks up, mumbling hotly against you, “—if you kept the ears, and tail. I could put a collar on you—let everyone know that you’re my personal property. Wouldn’t you like that?”

You open your mouth to respond, but he doesn’t give you the chance—his lips moving to capture your own as his digits thrust between your walls. His tongue forces its way into your mouth, swallowing the moans that rip from your throat—his pace ruthless as he fingers fucks you. But he knows it’s what you want—your pussy positively drenched for him—lewd sounds permeating the room with each flick of his wrist.

His other hand finds your breast, squeezing the soft flesh roughly and causing you to whine. Satan’s touches are sure to leave you sore and bruised, but the idea of having marks to remind you of this moment for days to come is undeniably appealing.

“S-Satan,” you gasp, your knees beginning to buckle. You’re already racing towards your climax—his fingers pressing into your sweet spot with every jab.

“Are you already going to cum?” he asks, placing an open-mouthed kiss against your jaw. Your head is spinning, but you manage to nod.

Satan hums. “Should I let you cum?”

“Please.” Your voice is raw with desperation—your head pressing back against the doorframe as the dam holding your orgasm at bay threatens to collapse. Weakly, your hand raises to grab Satan’s arm—your fingernails digging into his skin.

He chuckles, placing a tease of a kiss against your jaw.

“Cum then.”

And you do—mouth opening into a silent scream as you release around his fingers. He pumps you through it—pace slowing to drag out the waves of pleasure. And finally, once you’re able to breathe again—your head slumping forward against Satan’s shoulder—he pulls his hand from between your thighs.

You feel him wipe his soaking digits on your leg, smearing your own juices against your skin. It’s an embarrassing realization—that you had drenched his hand with your arousal—but you don’t get long to think on it, because both his arms wrap around the backs of your thighs. He hefts you up—your arms instinctively raising to wrap around his neck as your legs dangle on either side of his torso.

You can feel his clothed erection pressing at your womanhood—and you realize that despite cumming—there’s no way you’re done.

“Don’t regret what you said earlier about letting me use you,” he whispers into your ear, and turns towards the bed. Within seconds, you find yourself thrown onto the soft sheets—the Avatar of Wrath flipping you onto your stomach.

There’s movement on the mattress behind you, and then Satan’s hands are reaching forward to grab your hips. He forces you onto your knees—dragging your ass backwards—and without warning, something quite large shoves between your walls.

“Mm--!” you bite your lip, fingers grasping at the sheets as Satan begins chasing his own release. His hips smack against your ass, rattling the bedframe with each movement, and despite yourself, pleasure begins building in your gut once more.

“Look at you,” Satan speaks, a little breathless. “So submissive, and perfect.”

You whine at his words, thighs shaking as the intensity of his love-making begins to overwhelm you. If it weren’t for Satan’s grip on your hips, you’d be slack against the sheets—twitching, and taking a much-needed breather.

But this isn’t about you. Right now, it’s about him, and you both know it. It’s Satan’s turn to do whatever he wants. It’s the least you can give him, considering he’d already let you cum, right?

“Do you think you can cum again?” he asks, and you shake your head no. He chuckles, one of his hands reaching around to toy with your clit. The stimulation immediately has you crying out—pussy tightening around him and forcing a grunt from his throat.

“Let’s see, shall we?”

The next few minutes are a blur—your mind spiraling into incoherency as Satan’s dick stretches and fills you in all the right ways. With his fingers rubbing circles at your clit, you’re brought back to the brink of orgasm quicker than you’d imagined—the pleasure beginning to tip into overstimulation.

“Please please please please,” you chant, forcing yourself to clench around him. Satan groans, retaliating with a brutal thrust that has tears pricking at your eyes. You’re not sure if you want to cum, or simply want him to cum so you can finally catch your breath.

“Shit,” he curses, beginning to fall apart around the edges. His fingers work at your clit even faster than before, and you choke on a cry—attempting to pull your hips away—but he doesn’t let you.

With a guttural moan tearing from your throat, he forces another orgasm from your spent body. You go limp—any remaining strength fading from your limbs, and Satan drags you back onto his cock a few more times before his pace falters, and he finds his bliss as well.

When his touch disappears from you, you immediately collapse onto your side—covered in sweat—your clit twitching with aftershocks. Your eyes are closed, yet they open tiredly when you feel a palm cup your cheek.

Satan is sat in front of you now, a tinge of concern showing in his emerald eyes. Since you can’t move, you simply lean into his touch, and he breathes a laugh.

“I tend to forget that humans are so fragile…”

“I’m not fragile,” you respond, smiling a little. “I’m just exhausted. You gave me the fucking of a lifetime—how am I supposed to act after an experience like that?”

There’s a beat of silence, and you glance up to find a perplexed look on Satan’s face. It’s almost as if he feels…guilty.

“Hey,” you speak up, catching his attention. You beckon him forward with a nod of your head, and Satan complies—scooting to lay next to you. Once close enough, you reach your arms forward and hug his head to your chest.

“I really enjoyed that,” you tell him honestly. “Please don’t feel bad.”

“I…it’s hard for me to control my nature, sometimes,” he admits, but relaxes into your embrace. “While it feels good to give in, I don’t like the idea that I did anything without your consent first.”

“I know that if I had asked you to stop, you would have. So, don’t worry, Satan. We’re fine.”

At your reassurance, he sighs quite loudly, and you feel his lips press a soft kiss against your breast.

“Will you stay here? Tonight?”

You laugh. “You would have been stuck with me either way. I can’t move at all right now.”

He snorts, his blond hair tickling your chin, and you continue thoughtfully. “Well, I guess you could have carried me back to my room. But then you run the risk of running into the others—and having to explain why I can’t walk and have ears and a tail. And I don’t think you want that.”

“The others don’t get to see this,” he speaks up seriously, pushing onto his forearm and catching your gaze. “I want these moments to only be mine.”

His words cause a blush to spread on your cheeks, and you avert your eyes.

“That’s quite greedy of you. I thought you were the Avatar of Wrath, Satan.”

He leans in, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Will you let them be mine?”

Shyly, you nod, and Satan smiles with satisfaction.

“I’ll get a wet rag, and some clothes for you to sleep in,” he says, and disappears from your side. You hear him padding around the room, but you’re too tired to move an inch. Eventually, you feel a warm cloth on your thighs, and a soft shirt being pulled over your head, but the minutes blur together. You’re exhausted, and as soon as Satan returns to his bed—his arm resting across your waist as he settles in beside you—you’re out like a light.

In the morning—

“Oi! Y/N!” Mammon’s loud call startles you as you step foot into the dining hall. He presses up from his seat, hurrying towards you. The other brothers are already gathered around the table—Satan included, and he watches the interaction silently.

“Where the hell were you last night? I went knocking at your door and you never came to answer. I thought Satan had killed ya!”

“LMAO but you were too scared to go to Satan’s room and check,” Levi butts in, causing Mammon to flush bright red.

“I ain’t scared ‘a him!” he denies, pointing a finger at the 4th eldest brother. Satan ignores the outburst, but from his side, Asmodeus hums happily. There’s a sparkle in his eye.

“I don’t know, Mammon, I would be. I could have sworn I heard Y/N screaming when I walked past Satan’s door last night~”

Asmo’s comment has heat creeping up your neck, but Satan’s response gives nothing away.

“She decided to stay and read a book from my collection. I realized she was getting to a scary part, and decided to play a prank on her. She didn’t really appreciate it.”

Six pairs of eyes turn to you expectantly, and you laugh—your hand rubbing at your neck.

“Sorry if I worried you…I’m really bad with scary things.”

There’s a look on Asmo’s face that tells you he doesn’t buy your excuse one bit, but nevertheless, he decides to roll with it.

“Ooo~ If that’s the case then I say we have a scary movie night soon! I want to hold Y/N in my lap and make her feel safe while watching~”

“That might be the most dangerous spot to be,” Belphegor mumbles, and Asmodeus feigns hurt. At the same time, immediately Mammon is yelling about how you’re under his watch, and no one is allowed to touch you but him. That draws responses of indignation from an array of people at the table, but in the middle of it all, Satan raises a hand to hide his smile.

His eyes meet yours, his emerald orbs flashing with something akin to mirth, and you know that even while the others argue about who has the right to touch you—from here on out, your most intimate moments will be reserved for Satan.

And that, you don’t have any problem with. 

[flufflepuffle296]

Rebellious Adrien

There are a few really good fics out there where Gabriel tells Adrien that he has to “date” Lila, and Adrien basically says “fuck this shit I’m out” and sneaks out before dying his hair and spending all his time with Jagged and Luka, much to his father’s horror.

But what if Adrien decided to catwalk straight into r/maliciouscompliance...

His father tells him he must fake date Lila, and he’s pissed but is like “all right fine...” before going up to his room. He texts people such as Marinette, Chloé, Luka and Kagami (because I live for the 5 of them being besties) and explains the situation. He then tells them to “get every celebrity you know, anyone she’s ever lied about, everything’s she says she’s done and disprove it.”

About a week later of having to endure harassment from sausage bitch, he goes on social media and is like

“At first I thought Lila Rossi was nice. She did charity work, knew celebrities and offered internships with famous businesses. However. It has come to my attention that she’s a MANIPULATIVE GOLD DIGGING BITCH, as you can see for yourself in these articles and videos I’ve linked. Neither my father, nor anyone in my household/company was aware of this but we are taking the appropriate action.”

So basically:

He’s made Lila well known.

He’s then destroyed her reputation and career whilst making it seem like he stumbled upon the videos that his friends collected (as he’s not in any of them).

He’s given his father a way out (therefore he doesn’t end up grounded or in this situation again).

He’s provided evidence.

Basically Lila’s ruined.

Fuck you Lila.

[codedredalert]

no lead nor steel shall reach him so [Golden Kamuy, Ogata & Yuusaku] -- gen oneshot

Ogata character study || 1705 words

A good marksman could swear blind that he knew a good shot before his bullet left the barrel.

Ogata was a good shot. The moment he pulled the trigger on Yuusaku, he knew he'd made a mistake.

Warnings: canon-typical violence, character death, Ogata is messed up and regrets nothing, this is not a nice softe redemption story.

A/N: written for @narramin​ 

(On Ao3)

===/\===

.

      1.

Ogata knew the rumours.

Second Lieutenant Hanazawa Yuusaku is the eight virtues personified, they said. No wonder he was promoted so young. No wonder he had the honour of bearing the flag.

Perhaps Ogata knew the rumours best  because they were spoken carefully around him— whispers like prey rustling the grass, catching his attention whether he willed it or not.

He's  that Ogata's brother, they said. No, reliably came the disbelieving reply. Can't be, no way, you've got to be lying, is it true? It's true, the Second Lieutenant said so, though Ogata tries to keep it quiet. Ah, well it makes sense,  he's the bastard after all, isn't he? Hah, in more ways than one…

Sideways glances between himself and their vaunted officer, not nearly as discreet as the men of the 7th Division believed themselves to be.

Have you heard? asked First Lieutenant Tsurumi in a conspiratorial whisper when he had Ogata alone. They say the Second Lieutenant is very principled.

Yes, Ogata has heard.

Shall we see for ourselves? proposed the First Lieutenant, hand outstretched, an offer.

.

.

      一.

"Life is a long road."

Grandmother taught this to him in a voice that was light to mask the weight of wisdom in those heavy words. After Mother's death, Grandmother had never faltered in her duties though she grieved, going through the funeral proceedings with head held high, and seeing to Ogata's every need with reliability that Mother had never managed, though she had tried.

"The longer one's road grows, the more places to stumble, and for impurity to rest on the soul. With time, every person falls to the suffering of existence."

She used one of her wrinkled, gnarled hands to smooth back Ogata's clipped-short hair, soothing and pleasant.

"It is just the way life is," she said.

.

.

      2.

Ogata approached Yuusaku for the first time since the young officer had first called him brother, and the younger man lit up with such unadulterated delight that it sent a shudder of disgust down Ogata's spine.

He had to be faking. No one got that excited about a night out with their bastard half-brother. But as long as the Second Lieutenant wanted to play the good brother, that suited Ogata just fine.

Ogata led Yuusaku to the pleasure district, watching with amusement as the younger man's delight turned to discomfort, to embarrassment, to distress.

"Brother… I'm terribly sorry," he said, bowing. And he  sounded sorry too, as if it physically pained him to refuse Ogata's first tenuous offer of brotherhood. His sincerity grated, as did his refusal. In one move, Yuusaku had both undermined Ogata's objective, and plainly made the grave insult that— however much he claimed to want Ogata for an elder brother— Ogata's wants and ways were beneath him.

With the trap now useless, there was no choice but to let him go, and Yuusaku walked out of the establishment as free and upright as ever.

But Ogata could be patient. As the war went on— as the acrid gunpowder, piss, shit, and anguish seeped into them all— Yuusaku would stumble. Ogata just had to bide his time and try again, try better.

.

.

      二.

His mother was beautiful in death. She had hundreds of admirers from the peak of her career, and many a swooning painter had captured her likeness. A portrait of her had been gifted to them, and it smiled bright-eyed and gentle upon Ogata from the family altar as she never had in life.

"It doesn't look like her," he remarked, as he stood side by side with his grandmother and offered incense. He remembered his mother's back as she stood in the middle of a room for long stretches of time, silent and unmoving. Her profile, as she stared out the window, watching for a man who would never come.

The joss sticks burned down to ash, and Grandmother lifted her head from her prayers. She bowed and turned away, gesturing for him to follow. He followed suit.

"People see what they want to see," she said, once she had closed the door behind them. Grandmother was very different from Mother, in that way. She always paid attention to him, even if she was silent at first. He just had to be patient.

"Men wanted her beauty, so they took whichever parts of her they found beautiful and painted over all the other parts to suit their tastes. They did not know her character, the hardship she went through. The  geisha, the  maiko… they suffer greatly for their success. But it was our hope that she would have a good life, a better life than the one we could give her. Not..."

Heartache. Deep despair. The delusion that roused her from bed only to make the same dish, day after day: a desperate, futile offering to a love that didn't realise.

Ogata understood.

.

.

      3.

"Superior Private Ogata. It appears that Yuusaku is a more gallant soldier than we imagined. He's won over the hearts of all the other men."

Ogata let out the breath he'd been holding for his shot and lowered his rifle. He could read between the lines and take the orders the First Lieutenant preferred not to say explicitly. Plausible deniability and all that. It's why the First Lieutenant liked him.

"So you're saying we're better off not killing him, sir?" asked Ogata, reloading and already looking for his next target. He didn't need an answer. "Understood."

Ogata led Yuusaku wraithlike over the fields where gunfire and screaming had reigned earlier that day. The night was quiet but far from silent, the sighing of the wind an unearthly substitute for the dead and dying soldiers' groans. Yuusaku's boots scuffed the earth as he followed. He made enough noise that Ogata could have shot him at fifty yards, blindfolded.

"I want to see you kill him," Ogata said earnestly, pressing his knife into Yuusaku's hands. Yuusaku flinched and his eyes slid away, looking for escape, looking anywhere but Ogata's eyes, anywhere but the Russian soldier gagged and bound at their feet.

"Father said I have to keep my hands clean," Yuusaku begged off, as if the word 'Father' could invoke more authority than 'Lieutenant General' or 'martial law'. Ah, but Yuusaku was a beloved child, Ogata remembered, and this was him trying to appeal to the filial respect that Ogata never had the chance to develop for the man.  

Something must have shown on Ogata's face.

Yuusaku embraced him and Ogata's blood swarmed like locusts in his veins, eating him alive with irritating discontent and a curious, persistent thought.

.

.

     三.

Mother's death was Ogata's first. A lot of customs went with it, though Ogata didn't really see why. When everything was over, Grandmother paid a priest to come bless the family and sprinkle salt at him.

"It's for your own good. Death is an unclean thing, we don't want its shadow over you," Grandmother explained when Ogata grumbled about some of it getting it into his eye. Her voice wavered ever so slightly, as she smoothed the front of her kimono. "Remember to do this after I've passed."

Ogata buried her the year he was conscripted. He didn't get the priest afterwards. There wasn't much point, on the way to a war.

.

.

      4.

It was so easy to find Yuusaku on the field, even in the chaos.

Gallant Yuusaku, leading the throng of soldiers eager to kill and die for the emperor and their nation. Ogata could frame them in his rifle sight like a painter drafting a standing screen. Yuusaku, marked by the rising sun.

It was so easy that it was a wonder how the enemy snipers hadn't gotten him first. The waving flag begged to be targeted. Did the Russians dismiss him for having no gun? For never drawing his unblooded sabre?

It was so easy to line up the shot.

What would happen if— ?

Ogata pulled the trigger.

.

.

      四.

Birds scattered as he missed, taking to the peach-pink sky above the fields behind the family house in Ibaraki. Ogata took aim for his second shot, but the timing was already so far off that there was no point. He lowered his grandfather's rifle instead of wasting another bullet.

He'd been over-eager, moving too much, and too fast. The light was gone now, and he would have to return home empty-handed.

.

.

      5.

Yuusuke's distant silhouette crumpled. His corpse joined the hundreds of bodies on the battlefield, lost in the chaos of the regiment as he went down, the bright white and red and gold tasselled flag falling slowly after him before it too disappeared from sight. Ogata lowered his rifle with a strange sense of frustration and ran his hand through his regulation cropped-short hair.

There was a strange absence of something he thought would be there, and with that... Disappointment. Profound disappointment. Like the shot when he was a child in the fields behind the family house in Ibaraki and learning to hunt, the birds scattering as he missed.

Yuusaku crowned by the sun, beloved.

He'd been overeager and now gallant Yuusaku would be forever gallant, forever pure. The impurity of death didn't seem to stick, and now Yuusaku was an immortal nuisance and Ogata still had no answer to the discontent crawling on his back.

Ogata's hand clenched on the butt of his rifle, white-knuckled with cold. This was the first time he felt  bad when he'd made his shot, bereft of something out of reach, which could have been his but never would. It was a pricking irritation similar to missing a shot. Even though he hadn't.

There were no answers here. There were no answers in the dead. Not in his mother, not in his grandmother, not in this man who called him brother.

Ogata turned and First Lieutenant Tsurumi was there. The First Lieutenant smiled in understanding and nodded in approval, as if knowing Ogata's thoughts before Ogata himself.

The father who only had enough love to raise one virtuous son. Yes, Ogata could just ask him directly. There was no point thinking about Yuusaku any longer.

Yuusaku was dead. That was the end of it. Ogata couldn't reach him anymore.

Time to turn to the living.

===/END\===

(On Ao3)  ( patreon ) ( kofi ) ( paypal )

[wlfkssd]

When in Frankia ( oneshot )

Piece based on the prompt ‘a stolen kiss + hvitserk/aethelred’ sent in by the lovely @issadoragreen​ <3

Summary : Having raided Spain, Hvitserk chooses to stay with Rollo after he returns to Frankia. During which time, Rollo hosts several members of England’s most powerful families in hopes of striking up alliances between them. Aethelwulf’s son, Aethelred, happens to be the envoy for Wessex.

A canon div. au that will eventually be expanded into a fic, probably. 

Pairing(s) : Hvitserk x Aethelred, Rollo x Gisla ( mentioned )

Warnings : mention of alcohol ?? and there’s one kiss. that’s it. 

Word count : 1,455

Addition Notes : Having watched back, Rollo has such a good relationship with Hvitserk when they’re raiding Spain and I’m just sad that nothing really came of it aside from Rollo giving him those troops that were really for Ivar anyway. Still, that’s what aus are for, I guess. But I really do want to expand this idea at a later date tbh.

Soft sunlight peeks in through the small window, carved high into the stone wall of Hvitserk's bed chamber. He turns over, refusing to let go of his dream as a heavy sigh escapes thin, pursed lips.

Rollo had kept him up until the early hours, regaling the young viking with stories of his father and England; vast amounts of wine flowing without heed nor hinderance. Much is the way of their people but having finally stumbled to bed with the aid of a servant, heavy eyes and rosy cheeks immediately led to an almost unconsciously deep sleep.

It could have lasted for minutes or days - he doesn't know - but when Hvitserk finally does manage to persuade his eyes to open, everything feels too bright. The room isn't spinning but the taste of those bitter red grapes still clings tight to the back of his throat. It's wholly unpleasant.

And yet.

There's hope for the day when Hvitserk hears footsteps outside his door. Faint as they are, he knows to whom they belong.

The Saxon prince, Aethelred.

Another softly pained sigh finds its way out as he sits up and rubs his eyes with one hand, index finger pressing slightly across the line of his lashes, catching the hard dust settled there. He flicks it away and somehow finds the energy and orientation to stand. Arms stretch gingerly above his head, muscles faintly screaming from the exertion of the past weeks.

For here, in Frankia, his uncle Rollo has been teaching him many things. Frankish manners are one. How to speak Aethelred's language is another. Both are tiring enough without having to mention the fact that he has daily lessons with Rollo's men in the central training courtyard. Sword skills and archery used to be a pleasure. Now they're simply a chore.

Especially when all he longs to do is sit by the river and listen to Aethelred talk about a letter he's writing to his family in Wessex. Or watch him form elegant characters onto the parchment with all the intrigue of a small child. Of course, that's another part of his new life here; learning how to write in something other than runes. It's painstakingly slow and his hand hurts most of the time but proud was the day when he perfected his own name.

A clean tunic and trousers wait for him on the small chair in the corner and Hvitserk pads across to quietly dress. This is as private as things will be, he knows, and for that reason, he takes a moment longer to fix his appearance before pulling on his soft boots and leaving. The arm ring from his father hangs heavy at his wrist. It shines gold in the light that fills the hallway leading to the staircase.

"Prince Aethelred!" Hvitserk sees him halfway down the second set of stone steps and leans over the banister to call out. Clear, sea blue eyes meet his own as the prince glances up, dark robes tight to his body as usual.

They both smile.

"Hvitserk." Aethelred says in return as he continues on his way, not waiting but expecting the Viking to simply catch up. There's something so refined about him that puts Hvitserk to shame sometimes but there's also a thoroughly fun game hidden there too. The challenge of seeing how far to push before pink cheeks flush.

Hop-skipping down, ignoring the fact that his body tells him not to, the young Ragnarsson is soon in step with the prince.

With his prince.

"You're awake early." Aethelred observes, calmly, hands folded around a closed book at his front. The high collar of his tunic hides a multitude of sins from two days before that nobody, aside from the Saxon himself, seems to care about. Nobody but the one who put them there, that is.

Perhaps it's uncommon to show any kind of attraction or affection in England. Hvitserk doesn't know. What he does know is that whatever little marks were left are probably fading by now.  

"I want to get the worm." He shrugs and smiles, baring teeth. Aethelred shakes his head but he's smiling too. "What?"

"Nothing. It's nothing, Hvitserk."

Saying something is nothing hasn't ever made sense to him but it gives rise to the fact that there is a secret hidden; a piece of treasure buried within the words. A very little something to be found in the nothing it claims to be.

And Hvitserk is still thinking about that when they come to the bottom of the stairs and turn down the lengthy corridor, towards the hall for breakfast.

"Boys!" Rollo's voice is just as expected; booming and cheerful as he welcomes them with arms open, gesturing to seats by him at the head of the table. "Hvitserk. This is a surprise. Did you piss the bed last night?"

Both take their seats as Rollo fingers up another cold leg of chicken.

"He wants the worm this morning, Count. At least that's what he told me." Distant glee shines in Aethelred's heavy, lidded eyes as he carefully picks out his meal, transferring several different things from the platters to his own silver plate.

"Is that so? Hm. Shouldn't you be out in the gardens for that?" Rollo teases and one greasy hand slaps to Hvitserk's shoulder in the way only an uncle's can. It's almost the affection that should be expected of a father and that's what makes the younger Viking blush.

If only he were Rollo's son.

"Perhaps I should be. At least that way I wouldn't have to make a fool of myself trying to learn how to write." He says back, a little defeated, in the tongue both still hold onto from their homeland. Not a glance to Aethelred as they speak to one another.

"I never liked learning, either. But when I found I could express my thoughts to Gisla - those I couldn't say - I found it to be useful. I think you will, too. In time." The implication comes to fruition as Rollo's chin juts, eyes following in the direction of the Saxon, across the table.

Hvitserk pretends not to see.

"So. You have until the sun is at its highest before your lessons begin today. What will you do? Aethelred?" Thankful for the attention turning away from him, Hvitserk begins to eat, filling his cheeks as usual with anything and everything.

Aethelred is much better; swallowing his food before addressing his host.

"Practice a little with the sword, I think." Aethelred is nonchalant about the fact but Hvitserk can't help the way his mouth stops chewing. Surprisingly enough, he never imagined any more of the prince than scholarly pursuits. But thinking of him with a blade in hand, shield up to protect his body, giving as good as he gets; there's something stirring in that.

"Hvitserk?" As with his sleep, it could have been minutes or hours between the Saxon's answer and his uncle's summons. He doesn't know but when he's nudged and Aethelred is clearly staring at him too, the food in Hvitserk's throat is suddenly very hard to swallow.

"Uh. Yes. Training." He manages, around the bulk and forcibly pushes his tongue to catch the remains, pressing the tip to the inside of his cheek. "We should do it together."

They've done far more intimate things together and kissing is definitely something Hvitserk enjoys but even the thought of fighting a worthy adversary excites him just that little bit further. Call it lust or battle joy but he knows it's a feeling inherited from Rollo. Or he can assume as much, given the way the stories of the berserker were told.

"Then it's agreed. Once we've eaten and-" Aethelred cuts himself off - an expression of confusion writing itself across his face as he does - as Hvitserk's chair scrapes out and the Viking makes his way around the table. Their eyes lock. "Hvits-"

His name dies easily upon the sigh into his own mouth.

The world consists only of their heartbeats in shared moments like this. Heartbeats and the warmth of barely touching cheeks; embarrassment holding onto just the right side of shame as it colours especially the pale skin of the prince. It's unexpected and, therefore, a stolen kiss. But Hvitserk doesn't care. Anyone and everyone could be watching and he would only see and feel the young man before him.

"I'll see you there." He says, slipping back to ease their parting with the tender touch of foreheads before the prince can protest. Aethelred's only response is a soft sound, made in the back of his throat and Hvitserk smiles, unabashedly.

Rollo watches on, knowing that something more than battle lust is blooming between these two boys.

[samanthadalton]

Star crossed lovers (au) part 2

pairings: poppy x mc (bea)

warnings: throughout this fic there will be mentions of substance abuse, homophobia, sexual abuse, violence, NSFW, mentions of abandonment, depression and death including suicide

reader discretion is advised

(i apologise for any spelling/grammatical mistakes, i’ll fix them later) 

taglist: @somewillwin @save-me-the-last-dance @baexpoppy @cloud9in @stanzoeywade @ognenniyvolk @thepotatobleh @crazzyplays @rxssians (i’m pretty sure this is my taglist, if you wanna be tagged in future posts just reply or message me 😊) 

word count: 6.2k

read part 1 here: 

Part 2: First day jitters

BEEP BEEP BEEP 

Bea groans and puts her alarm on snooze momentarily silencing the deafening noise. After finding difficulty in falling asleep on time, the brunette found herself feeling zombified this morning. With great difficulty she forces herself to sit up and reaches over to her dresser to check her phone.

A snapchat from Poppy, 

a miss call from AJ

And 5 unread texts from Zoey

She opens the snapchat from Poppy who had sent a selfie of her with an adorable bedhead, lips slightly puckered, captioning the picture, ‘good morning babe 💋I love you’. Bea decided to send a selfie back, hands raised in a peace sign captioning her post, ‘I love you too, see you at school ❤️’. She decides to give AJ a quick text since he called her at 4:34am and Bea is worried he might’ve gotten into some trouble overnight.  

AJ Baxter, one of the few friends Bea has at Belvoire. He’s younger, a sophomore now, but has a heart of gold. His family is more middle class but his father is good friends with the superintendent which means his place in Belvoire is secured, he could practically get away with anything without risk of suspension. He hangs out with Bea and her friends who live in the south, but recently he’s gotten caught up in a bad crowd, a gang called ‘Southside nation’ who causes nothing but trouble. Bea’s taken it upon herself to look out for him and make sure he doesn’t do anything illegal because he’s a good kid, just a little lost. 

She then decided to check her texts from Zoey who just wants to wish her luck at her fancy school and to let her know if any preppy rich kid tries to bully her to call Zoey who would beat their ass. Zoey was one of Bea’s best friends, they had met when Bea moved into her neighbourhood after leaving the northside of Greensburg, and she practically taught Bea how to survive in the south. She often discloses her opinion about Bea and Poppy’s relationship, warning Bea that it will only end up with her getting her heart broken. Bea tends to ignore Zoey’s criticisms, and anyone else’s really, no one could understand their relationship, Bea and Poppy were soulmates, or at least that’s how they saw each other. Bea usually retorts to Zoey’s criticisms arguing that no matter what life threw at them she and Poppy were destined to be together and no one could ever ruin that. 

After a few more moments of scrolling through her phone, she forces herself to get up and moves over to the other side of the room to wake up her little sister. 

“Hey sleepy head, you gotta get up” Bea gently shakes the younger girl who in response groans loudly and pulls the covers over her head. 

“Go awayyyyy” her voice rasps, as she’s evidently still in sleepy mode. 

Bea grins and decides to jump on her sister’s bed and shake her awake, earning a hard shove from her Aria who sits up on her bed rubbing her red eyes, “Bea whatthehell, what’s wrong with you”, for a 11 year old she sure as hell had a lot of attitude, a trait she definitely acquired from her mother. 

“Sorry kiddo” she leaps off the bed and turns back to look at her sister, “I want you ready for school in 40 minutes, that means you’ve brushed your teeth, brushed your hair, wearing your school clothes and eaten breakfast, all in that order okay?” 

Aria just drags her hands down her face and moans, “okayyyy, relax Bea, let me at least fully wake up”. 

Bea smiles and stalks towards the bathroom and turns on the tap blasting the cold water. She cups her hand and splashes the water all over her face, gasping as if she had been holding her breath for hours. Well, that definitely woke her up. 

After brushing her teeth and going through the steps of her basic skincare routine Poppy practically forced upon her, she advances to the living room and sees that her mother is still in the same place she left her last night. She takes a minute to analyse her mother’s facial features, a few grey hairs peaks out of her hair, threatening to showcase her ageing, her slightly creased forehead, and the small wrinkles which edged on the corners of her eyes. Her nose was similar to Aria’s, a petite buttoned up nose, except she had a silver nose ring. Her lips were thin and wide, red lipstick smeared on her chin a little and all Bea could do was frown. Her mother used to be so beautiful, she remembers the time she stumbled across a photo album in which Bea’s mother had documented almost everything in her life, she used to be so full of life, so happy but now, she was different. She hated her life, ever since her husband left her she resorted to alcohol and drugs, the only way she knew how to numb the pain. It killed Bea to see her mother destroy herself piece by piece, she often questioned to herself why she or Aria were never enough for her to want to live. But Bea would never say anything out loud, not wanting to upset her mother or sister or the more likely answer, she was afraid of the truth. 

Bea shakes herself out of her thoughts and moves towards the kitchen which is connected to the living room. She decides to make scrambled eggs for breakfast as she definitely needs the protein and it was pretty easy to cook. A few minutes later, Aria emerges from her bedroom, dressed in her school clothes, Bea begins to assess the girls outfit from head to toe, disproving the slightly cropped t-shirt Aria decided to wear and forcing her to change into something more appropriate for school. 

“No, turn around and change your top now,” her tone commanding with a hint of discontent. 

“It’s just a t-shirt, why are you making a big deal out of it, god” she retorted as she walks back to the room and moments later she walks into the room wearing an oversized hoodie. “There, happy?” 

“I’m practically jumping for joy, A, now hurry up and eat, the bus will be here soon” Bea moves towards the stools while Aria pours herself a bowl of cereal. Behind them they hear a series of moans and groans, guess their mother is finally awake. 

“Could you girls make any more noise, goddamn” she clutches her head in agony and begins rubbing the temples of her forehead with her fingertips. 

“We’re eating breakfast, maybe if you managed to make it to your bedroom we wouldn’t have woken you up,” Bea quips, turning back to focus on eating her breakfast while her mother just glares at the back of her head and rolls her eyes. 

“I’m your mother, don’t be a bitch with me especially when I’ve just woken up” she reaches over to the table and takes a huge swig of the vodka on the table while Bea silently berates herself for forgetting to throw the drink away. “Anyways where were you yesterday, you didn’t leave any money for dinner so I had to pay for a pizza” 

“I saw” Bea says unaffected, she’s used to her mom’s bitchiness and attitude. 

“Don’t tell me you were with richie rich’, she downs the rest of the drink and slams the empty bottle on the table. 

That agitates Bea and grabs her attention, she shifts in her seat to glower at her mother, “Don’t call her that”

“Looks like I hit a sore spot” her mother waves her hands dismissing Bea’s anger, “next time be here for dinner or leave some money because I don’t have enough money to be worrying about feeding that one”, she nods her head towards Aria. 

Bea clenches her fist and takes a deep breath, ‘Aria go get your school bag”, Aria’s about to respond when Bea just glares at her expecting her to follow through, Aria reluctantly gets up from her seat leaving her almost empty bowl of cereal on the counter. Bea quickly gets up and stomps towards Isabella, her voice is low and sharp, “Do you have to speak about your daughter like that when she’s around? I don’t give a shit about a $13 pizza, she’s your kid, she comes first no matter how much you despise her, she’s not to blame for your own mistakes”. Without waiting for a response she goes towards the bedroom and finds Aria lurking in the hallway looking dejected. 

“She hates me doesn’t she?”

Bea sighs, the relationship between her mother and Aria has always been so strained, her mother viewing Aria more as a burden and a physical embodiment of her biggest mistake in life. One of Bea’s biggest worries was what would happen once she moved to New York for college, she’s the only thing that is keeping the peace in the house but once she leaves she’s apprehensive about how her sister would fare around their mother. 

“She could never hate you, you’re her daughter, mom’s just….” she struggles to find the words, “mom’s just sad, she just doesn’t know how to properly control her emotions, but don’t worry you always have me here”, she feels guilty as she says the words because her mind drifts to college and New York but she musters a smile and hugs her sister, “now come on I’ll walk you to the bus stop just let me grab my bag”. 

After grabbing her bag, she quickly goes to the kitchen to put the dirty dishes in the sink, making a mental note of remembering to wash them when she gets home from work, since she knew her mother nor Aria would. She looks over to the living room to find the sofa empty and the door of her mother’s room, which was connected to the living room, slightly ajar, guess she’s gone back to doing nothing productive..again. 

After walking her sister to the bus stop, Bea insists on waiting with her to make sure she gets to school on time because she cannot afford having the principal call home about Aria being late, not if she wanted to piss her mom off more. Bea leaves Aria as soon as the  bus arrives, running back home to get her motorbike after looking at the clock on her phone and realising school begins in 30 minutes, “crap”. As soon as she makes it to her bike, she practically throws on her helmet and drives as rapidly as she can. The motorbike was a present from Poppy who had bought it from one of Bea’s co-workers at the diner at the beginning of the summer. Bea, at first, was apprehensive about the gift, she usually disdained Poppy for spending a lot of money on her but once she got on her new bike it was her second favourite thing in the world, the first being Poppy of course. Poppy secretly loved riding on her bike because it gave her the excuse to feel Bea’s abs (not that she needed one) but also because of the ephemeral ecstasy she would feel at every ride. It was a little taste of the freedom she so badly craved. 

The brunette is almost sweating at every red light because it means that she has to drive even faster and she did not want to be late on the first day back. Bea’s plan for senior year is to draw the least amount of attention to herself as she can, and coming late to homeroom is just basically like putting a huge kick me sign on her back. 

As soon as she parks her bike in the school’s parking lot she looks down at her phone, ‘7 minutes to spare that must be some new record’ she thinks to herself. She looks around at Belvoire, the school’s pristine building hasn’t gotten any less intimidating over the summer. She hears a bunch of shrill voices booming behind her and one of them in particular was almost like a banshee, the high pitched voice ringing in her ears which could only mean one person, Chloe St James. 

Chloe was one of Poppy’s best friends and one of Bea’s worst enemies. She was captain of the volleyball team which meant that she practically owned Bea on the court during practice but she was also incredibly irritating and very stupid. Once in class, her maths teacher asked Chloe what pi is, and she replied with “I don’t eat foods with a high fat content”. Everyone laughed at her until she cut them all off with a silent but deadly look. No one really messes with Chloe because she is secretly a very aggressive person which is exemplified by her plays on the volleyball court, Bea hated to admit it but Chloe was their best player. However, Chloe is the epitome of a classic dumb blonde rich girl who has to depend on her money and looks to get her somewhere in life, she practically has half of the football team worshipping her at her feet. Bea could never really understand why but Chloe has had it out for her since she’s come to Belvoire, maybe it was a classist thing but in the last year especially, Chloe’s antics became an everyday chore for Bea, who was getting sick of the constant harassment. It’s almost as if she swore to make Bea’s life a living hell. 

“Omg look who it is”,Bea rolls her eyes so hard they could get stuck in the back of her head, she turns to face the dumb blonde, “hey strip tease, how was your summer in the slums?” 

Bea balls her hands into a tight fist, ‘god this bitch is annoying’ she thought. “Is it true you whored yourself out so you could get that bike of yours?... Like mother like daughter I guess?” She giggles a little, triggering the girls around her, whose names Bea could never remember, to start laughing along with her. 

“Do you know what Chloe?” Bea takes a step forward a scowl etching on her face, “You’re all talk, I guarantee I’ll be able to take you”, Bea lowers her voice so only the blonde can hear what she’s saying, “You know I grew up in the South which means I was taught how to fight, so unless you want me to mess up that pretty face of yours back off.” Bea thought she was threatening enough for the dumb blonde to recede but her threats only aggravated Chloe more. 

“Listen up here you little tramp,” Chloe’s eyes were shooting daggers at Bea, even though she felt a tiny bit daunted by Chloe’s cold demeanor, Bea stood her ground when suddenly she could see Poppy in her peripheral vision sauntering up to the group and decided not to engage with Chloe since she promised Poppy she would be good. Before Chloe could obliterate Bea using her words, Bea holds up her middle finger at the blonde and counters, “go fuck yourself Chloe”. 

Chloe’s eyes flash with anger and just as she’s about to retort Poppy lays a hand on her shoulder and greets the girl with a squeal and Chloe delivers a bone crushing hug. Poppy doesn’t bother to spare a glance at Bea which means they’re back in the real world. 

After having the entire summer to themselves, riding around Greensburg, going to parties in the south, stealing moments in each other's rooms and going on secret weekend long trips to New York, being two teenagers completely in love, it was now a closed chapter. Now, the girls were in two different worlds, Bea took a quick second to appreciate Poppy’s outfit, she wore the cute pink bomber jacket Bea loved so much and her legs looked so long in her jeans, Poppy wore that specific outfit to catch Bea’s attention, but it was doing a lot more than that. Bea just wanted to reach out and kiss her so bad, the gloss on Poppy’s lips were shining so bright, almost as if she wanted to tease Bea, knowing she could only stare and not touch. 

“Come on Chlo, we’re gonna be late,” she drags the blonde away and as she breezes past Bea she spares a quick glance, their eyes locked for a brief moment, Poppy’s gaze softens for a second, her big brown eyes bore into Bea’s in the most tender way. If only the students at Belvoire, were less self absorbent and paid attention to the girls instead of themselves, they would’ve already felt the sexual tension just through the intense stares. After all the eyes are the windows to the soul. 

Bea takes a second to breathe, leaning on her bike, she knew today was going to be a long day. After hearing the warning bells she grabs her bag and practically runs the last 50 feet to homeroom and is grateful to see an empty seat at the back of the classroom. She slips in as their homeroom teacher, Mr Jennings quietens the class for the morning announcements, and as all the students direct their attention to the tv in the corner of the room, Poppy’s angelic face brightens up the screen with her adorable smile while she stacks the papers in her hands and turns to look at her co-anchor Carter Jackson. 

Carter Jackson, he’s devilishly handsome and the school’s golden boy. Captain of the football team, on track to being the school’s valedictorian, prevailing against the stereotypes of jocks all being dimwits, his resume is impeccable, any college would be lucky to have him. Bea always felt a pang of jealousy whenever she saw Carter within the same breathing space as Poppy since it was obvious he had the biggest crush on her. The whole school is already expecting for them to date since traditionally in movies and books the football captain and head cheerleader always get together. There were already existing rumours that they were secretly dating or they’ve had sex and many others which made Bea envious.  Bea was never the jealous type but subconsciously the thoughts of her not being good enough for Poppy would regularly infiltrate her mind. Poppy usually had to subside Bea’s fears whenever she felt like Bea was worried about Carter, promising her that she would never actually be into him but Carter is a gentleman and is practically harmless. 

‘Look at this stupid goofy smile and his stupid awesome hair’ Bea clenched her fists so hard her nails were digging into her palms which are definitely going to leave some marks. The announcements went on about the new school year and something about the sports teams and school spirit but Bea’s blood begins to boil when Carter makes a dumb joke earning playful slap on his arm from Poppy. She knows she can trust Poppy around him, it’s just Carter she couldn’t trust. He would always openly flirt with Poppy who would just give a little laugh or change the subject or sometimes indulge in his flirtations, just enough to throw him and the rest of her friends off from the truth. 

After the morning announcements Mr Jennings begins talking about the importance of senior year and how the students would have to start thinking about college and their futures. Bea has her whole future planned out with Poppy, get into Columbia, live off campus with her and eventually Poppy would tell her father about them and he will have no other choice but to accept them and if not then Poppy could take out some loans and eventually use the Min Sinclair name to build herself a brand. Bea wants to go into law, first into corporate, so her and Poppy can work together, so when Poppy takes over her father’s duties as the official CEO of the Min Sinclair industries, Bea would work the legal angle until she’s made a name for herself. If Poppy’s father wouldn’t pass the companies down to Poppy then she’ll go straight to being a general practice lawyer. Then she’ll open her own law firm to help those in need, money won’t be an issue for clients as she just wants to help people who are suffering from legal trouble but have no sufficient funds, because if we are being honest, the public defence system in America is a joke. 

Once the bell went off Bea checked her timetable to see AP science class first thing in the morning. ‘Kill me now’, she heeded she loved science but on a monday morning? It was a different kind of torture. She walks into the class to see all the students glaring at the projected screen and sees that a seating plan has been put into place for them. Miss Acker, is one of the strictest teachers at Belvoire, she’s a straight to the point no BS kind of teacher who would never let students walk all over her so the students in the AP class knew better than to challenge the seating plan. Bea looked for her name to see her being placed at the back corner of the class and her seating buddy is, no way… It’s Poppy. Bea felt a sliver of enlightenment fill her chest, an entire year of sitting next to Poppy and no one would say anything because they had no choice but to be next to each other. 

As Bea makes her way to the back she sees Poppy stride into the class, she gives Bea a quick wink, so quick that you would’ve missed it within a blink of an eye as she promptly took a seat in a random seat near the front of the class, her focus is on taking out her books from her bags until a stern tone catches her attention. 

“Miss Min Sinclair, if you bothered to look at the screen you would see there’s a seating plan, you’re supposed to sit with Miss Hughes at the back”, Miss Acker raises an eyebrow waiting for Poppy to oblige. 

“I-”, Poppy’s face flushes red, either from the embarrassment of being called out or the thought of sitting next to Bea all year, it wasn’t clear. She picks up her notebook and bag and as she’s walking to the back of the class a hand reaches out to touch her elbow. 

“Good luck sitting next to the freak all year” Carter’s voice smooth and his tone jesting at Poppy. 

“Uh, thanks,” Poppy lets out an awkward laugh and sits at the back daring not to look at Bea as the lesson begins. 

“So, looks like we’re science buddies,” Bea leans over and whispers as Miss Ackers goes over the rules of the lab. 

“Not here Bea, please,” Poppy almost pleads as her attention is fixated at the front of the classroom. 

Bea huffs a little, “well we do have to work together Pops, you can’t exactly avoid me since we go to the same school and everything”. 

Poppy doesn’t answer Bea, as the class continues. As Miss Acker addresses the class, Poppy’s attention shifts to the notebook in front of her, doodling across the blank page. She draws a little bumblebee and a heart around it and nudges Bea slightly with her elbow, directing her focus to her drawing. A small smile graces Bea’s face as she runs a finger around the heart and the bee on Poppy’s notebook. 

Bees were part of an inside joke between the two girls, Poppy used to call Bea her ‘little bumblebee’ when they were 14 and although Bea pretended to hate the nickname she found it a little sweet and gave Poppy the nickname ‘Popsicle’. 

The lesson carries on in full silence between the girls as they begin to concentrate at the lesson at hand, and when the lesson ended Poppy quickly packs up her things, grabs her bag and leaves the class with Carter and a few other girls in tow. Bea sighs and places her hands in her jacket pocket suddenly hearing the rustling of a piece of paper. She brings it out and sees a little folded note, and when she unfolds it, she sees a cartoon drawing of two girls kissing and the words ‘I love you’ written underneath it. She has no idea when Poppy even put the note in her pocket but she’s grateful she did. It was the little things like that that made Bea smile, and reminds her why she loves Poppy so much. To the rest of the school, it seems like the girls don’t even care about each other but Poppy’s a secret romantic at heart and usually leaves little tidbits around Bea as a reminder of her love. 

She pockets the note and goes to her next class with a little more pep in her steps. Lunchtime soon rolls over and Bea sits on one of the tables alone enjoying her sandwich. A few tables over, Poppy and her friends are laughing and sharing stories about their summer. One of the girls who’s sitting next to Poppy, catches Bea staring their way and gives a little wave. 

“Veronica who are you waving at?” Chloe’s voice blares and she turns her head looking around the lunch hall to see who’s gotten her attention now. 

Veronica Lombardi, Poppy’s other best friend and one of the very few people who actually treats Bea like a decent human being. She is one of the prettiest girls in school, excluding Poppy, and last year she made the decision to dye her hair a really cool greyish ombre which makes her look ever hotter. She’s also on the cheer team, and is also a vlogger and has over 30k subscribers on her growing youtube channel. Veronica’s family moved to Greensburg when she was 12, and she became quick friends with Poppy after being introduced at a work dinner since Veronica’s dad is one of the COOs for one of Poppy dad’s companies. Veronica also grew up with a lot of money and privilege but it never once deterred her from making friends from all sorts of places. She’s also the only one of Poppy’s friends who knows the truth about her and Bea’s relationship after accidentally walking into one of their make out sessions in the locker room last year during cheer and volleyball practice. She was super understanding and completely supportive of the relationship and often joins the girls when they would go to parties in the southside, arguing that they were tons more fun than the regular highschool parties her peers hosted. She loves to tease Poppy about Bea and insinuate that Poppy may or may not be in a secret relationship which would make their friendship group ask Poppy all kinds of questions about her ‘secret boyfriend’. 

“I’m just waving at Bea” that earns a hard eye roll from Chloe who just shifts her focus on her salad. “Is it me or has she gotten hotter over the summer?” she nudges Poppy with her elbow giving her a playful smile. Poppy’s jaw tightens as she stealthily kicks Veronica’s shin under the table. 

The rest of the people on the table have disgusted looks on their faces at the mention of Bea until Ford, one of the boys on the football team and a perfect example of classic dumb jock says, “I heard she got chylamidia or something because her mom pimps her out to get money or drugs”. 

Poppy takes a stab at her salad and gulps uneasily, “Can we talk about something less disgusting you’re making me lose my appetite.” 

Another girl, Tasha, who surprise surprise is also a cheerleader chimes in, “Like you ever have an appetite Poppy” the table bursts in laughter while Chloe sits in silence lost in thought. 

“What the hell are you plotting Chlo? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you think so much” Veronica laughs. 

A devilish smile appears on Chloe’s face, “I have a little surprise for that little tramp at the end of lunch, I’m just thinking about how hilarious it’s going to be”, the rest of the table reciprocate a similar smile on their faces except for Poppy and Veronica who just lock eyes confused at Chloe’s revelation. 

Poppy clears her throat, “so, uh, what are you planning?” Her tone is steady attempting to keep it as monotone as she can so no one suspects she cares. 

“Lets just say she’s gonna get the stripper treatment real soon” and with that the conversation swiftly changes. 

All the while an unsuspecting Bea sits at her table, after acknowledging Veronica’s wave with a swift nod of her head, Bea silently eats her lunch until she’s interrupted by two scrawny hands clamping onto her shoulders. 

“Dammit AJ you’re gonna give me a heart attack”, Bea sputters while her mouth is full of food. The young boy breaks into a wide grin and sits opposite Bea and swipes the cookie off Bea’s tray, “Hey no!” Bea grabs the cookie before he can shove it into his mouth, “not my cookie, I need my sugar”. 

AJ sulks a little, giving Bea a strong puppy dog look until she gives in and breaks her cookie in half giving him the larger piece. “Thanks Bea, I’m starving and all the good food has already run out, they’re just handing out apples for dessert” he sticks out his tongue making a ‘blergh’ sound and shudders. 

Bea doesn’t laugh, instead she stares intensely at the sophomore with a small frown outlined on her lips’, she leans in her voice low and serious, ‘AJ I want you to tell me the truth, where were you yesterday and why did you call me so late?” 

AJ gulps and places one of his hands on the back of his head and rubs it sheepishly, “I wasn’t doing anything bad I swear, it’s just that dad came home late last night and started fighting with my mom, it woke me up and I guess I just needed someone to talk to. I’m sorry i should’ve texted you back or something.” 

“Yeah you should’ve, AJ I was worried sick, you can’t pull that kinda crap on me okay? If you can’t reach me at least text me or leave a voice message or something.”

The boy nods but Bea isn’t entirely convinced he’s telling the truth but she decides to let it go since AJ is usually not someone who likes to dwell on the bad stuff. The conversation moves to a lighter one as the two reminisce about the summer and the parties they went to and how they were looking forward to the party on saturday. 

“I heard Razor’s getting a bunch of fireworks for the party, it’s gonna be so lit”, AJ is almost jumping out of his seat while Bea looks stunned. 

“Fireworks, really? Poppy would love that, I gotta remember to invite her.” 

AJ rolls his eyes slightly not that he had anything against Poppy, he adores her, he just hates the lovey dovey crap, “yes, yes she’ll love it,” he looks down at his phone and abruptly stands from his seat, and tells Bea he needs to fill up his water bottle but before Bea can even open her mouth, AJ moves out of her line of sight and sprints out of the dining hall. ‘Well he’s most definitely lying’ she thinks but she doesn’t want to press the matter in case AJ closes off on her, she trusts that he wouldn’t do anything too stupid. She begins to clean up after herself and throws her rubbish into the trash can and walks towards the courtyard. Just as she’s leaving, Chloe, Carter, Ford, Tasha and a few of the others on the table share a conspiratorial look before standing up and going after Bea. 

Poppy pulls Veronica to the side, her face filled with worry, “What the hell are they planning?” 

Veronica simply shrugs in response, her face looking exasperated, “I don’t know P but it’s not gonna be good”, she grabs Poppy’s elbow and pulls her towards the doors, “let’s catch up before something bad happens”. 

Bea peacefully walks in the courtyard, one of her hands inside her jacket pocket fiddling with the note Poppy left for her, a small smile gracing her features. Behind her, she hears a loud cough and stops in her tracks, she automatically knew it was Chloe, she softly sighs and turns to see a group of Poppy’s friends encircling her. Her face twitches into a scorn as she uneasily looks around to see the preppy kids staring back at her, all greeting her with a smile which unsettled her. 

“What the hell do you and your stupid cult want Chloe?” She tries to look unbothered but her fingers deceive her, as they fiddle with the straps of her backpack. Behind the group she sees Poppy and Veronica almost running and stopping in their tracks when they see the group surrounding Bea. 

“We all want a show,” Chloe spreads out her arms smiling, god her smug face is so punchable. She walks towards Bea until she’s standing directly in front of her, “well strip tease? I got a paying audience here, why don’t you show us what you mom taught you?” 

Bea shoves Chloe back, and Tasha steps forward and suddenly moves her hands so quick Bea for sure thinks she’s going to be punched. Instead she brings out a bunch of one dollar bills? ‘Oh shit’ is all Bea could think before the group began throwing one dollar bills at the brunette, drawing the attention of all the students in the courtyard. Some took out their phones to record the ordeal while some started cheering and whistling. 

“Come onnnn, don’t be such a tease Bea, show us something” Tasha forces Bea back into the middle of the circle as Bea struggles to leave. 

All the colour drains from Bea’s face as she takes in the faces of the laughing students all publicly humiliating her, it makes her so mad, especially at her mother, who’s at fault for the nickname ‘strip tease’. Bea looks over at Poppy who is frozen in her spot, her face falls when suddenly Veronica pushes herself into the circle and grabs Chloe by the arm, “End this now Chloe, it’s not funny,” Veronica’s eyes are filled with fury, Bea’s heart slightly drops because she secretly hoped that it was Poppy standing up for her. 

“Chillax V, Bea’s used to people throwing their money at her,” she laughs and bends down to pick up some fallen one dollar bills from the floor and throws it in the air. Carter moves towards Bea and places a folder one dollar bill in the loop of her jeans and winks at her and just when Bea pulls her hand back to deliver a blow, a sharp whistle sound infiltrates the ears of all the students who begin clasping at their ears. 

“What the hell is going on here!” the voice bellows over the entire courtyard. 

“Principal Steinhelm, I-” Chloe struggles to speak. 

Principal Steinhelm quickly assesses the situation, seeing Bea’s hands balled into fists and on the verge of tears, with one dollar bills thrown all around her while the rest of the students are surrounding her, some still holding money in their hands. She raises a hand and points at the crowd encircling all the guilty students and simply says, “All of you detention, if any of you do not show up today, there will be consequences. Get to class. Now”. All the students begin to disperse, Veronica places a hand on Bea’s arm and comfortingly rubs it for a few seconds before she walks towards Poppy who is still staring at Bea, her eyes filled with sadness, she looks away and trudges off with Veronica and the rest of her friends who are laughing cruelly in tow. Principle Steinhelm advances towards Bea, eyes filled with concern, “Miss Hughes would you like me to call your mother?”

Bea shakes her head no, her voice dissipated, scared that if she tries to speak, she’ll just burst into tears. Principle Steinhelm gives Bea an awkward pat on her shoulder before telling her to make her way to class as the bell rings. For the rest of the day, students around Bea were staring at her, sharing whispers and covertly laughing at the brunette, so much for not wanting to draw any attention today. Her phone buzzes with texts from Poppy but Bea puts her phone on silent not wanting to think about everything that just happened at school. 

Once the school day is over, Bea runs over to the parking lot and speeds off to work, not waiting to give Chloe a third chance to annoy her today. Poppy sees the girl rushing to leave and feels a pang in her chest. It kills her to see her girlfriend being mistreated but she couldn’t do anything to help her. Right? 

read part 3 here: 

[fuzzyporcupine]

lead me with your hands tied | chapter 5

chapters:

FULL - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

rating: explicit

word count: 10,592

summary:

In the midst of a crumbling kingdom at war, Levi Ackerman is commissioned by King Jaeger to paint a portrait of his overzealous son.

chapter 5:

The tea was cold before Levi could enjoy it. He found the pot sitting neatly atop a wooden desk near his bed, a white porcelain cup perched beside it. To be fair, it surprised Levi to see the set had been dropped off in his room. He figured that Petra would deprive him of the tea considering his brash behavior back in the studio. She had taken the tea with her after she exited the workshop, leaving Levi open-mouthed and speechless at her words.

They were hard to swallow. Repeated endlessly in his mind until he was absolutely positive that the sentence would be permanently ingrained into his thoughts.

“He is not his father.”

The statement was hard to believe, especially after the prince’s pompous display. Even more so knowing who produced the bastard. Petra was probably ignorant to the truth, he supposed. Of course, the woman defended Eren Jaeger. She bloody worked for him. His lips pursed tightly as he yanked the white cravat from his neck. All these exasperating thoughts were giving him a damn headache. He knew that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree, and the fucking maid wasn’t going to change his mind.

Levi glanced down at the cravat wrapped tightly in his clenched fist.

It just figured that the prince didn’t even need to open his boorish mouth to infuriate Levi.

The stranglehold slowly loosened around the cloth, revealing a set of unattractive wrinkles set deep into the fabric. Levi’s brow ticked angrily at the sight. Ironing was always such a chore, the tool heavy and clunky to work. He was used to light brushes, not weighted iron. It was the reason why he took such great care to not crease his clothing. However, now it seemed as if he would have to swallow his pride and pay the housekeeper a visit. That is if she would be willing to even entertain his presence. He really did have to work on his tact. Though that feat was easier said than done. Levi was a terrible conversationalist. And even worse at controlling his sharp tongue. That much had been made apparent by the way Eren stormed out of the studio. Levi faintly wondered if the prince confided the embarrassment to his father. Eren appeared way too prideful for that, however, as Petra so plainly put it, “He is not as you have constructed in your mind, sir.”

A scoff broke bitterly across his lips.

No, Eren Jaeger was exactly as he’d constructed. Arrogant and spoiled. Completely unaware of the detriment his goddamned father had brought upon the kingdom. So, an idiot, as well.

Indeed, the people of Shinganshina had a prime package in store for them after the king finally croaked.

He deposited the cravat onto the desk before his anger decided to ravage more of the cloth. Heavy-lidded eyes panned to the teapot still resting on top of the mahogany.

“Fuck it,” he breathed, turning sharply to exit the room.

A cup of cold tea just wasn’t going to cut it tonight.

--

The air of the tavern smelled like a rancid combination of stale beer and bile. Levi’s nose wrinkled in disgust as he stepped around a patron snoozing soundly face-first on the muddy floor. Hoots and hollers of drunken idiots sounded off in multiple directions. Many were dancing poorly in the center of the alehouse, men and women linking arms and twirling in stumbling circles. Others could be seen banging their fists on the cheap wooden tables or clinking together full tankards of beer.

It was a complete shithole, but a welcome change of scenery from the gaudy decor of the castle keep. Even if the majority of the customers were Shinganshina forces.

He did his best to ignore the bubbling unease stirring in his gut as he walked to the bar. In the back of his mind, he knew this was a horrid plan. Being in a room with this many soldiers did nothing but cause his pulse to race and his blood to boil. Levi tried to reason that a drink would surely help cloud his mind well enough to forget about the guilt. At least for one night.

“Mr. Ackerman!” The booming voice cut through the air like a beacon, and despite the knowledge of knowing just exactly who that call belonged to, Levi still turned his head. The general stood from his place at the bench, a large palm extended upward into a wave. Levi’s face twisted into a grimace, lip curling as he regarded the blond man. Instead of replying, Levi promptly ignored the caller, finding the thought of nursing a terrible drink much more appealing than the abysmal company.

He slid into one of the empty stools placed sporadically in front of the bar. Pointy elbows lifted to rest atop the counter before he noticed the number of miscellaneous substances splattered across the surface.

Truly a complete shithole, he thought.

“Irene, give my friend here a heavy pour.” Levi huffed irritably as he turned his head towards the man. He expected General Smith to pick up on the hint. Weren’t military officers supposed to be good at reading situations?

“I don’t need your coin,” he spoke, tone sharp and unwavering.

“Don’t be so sour, Mr. Ackerman. It’s impolite to deny such a small act of hospitality.” The man finished the sentence with a gleam of shiny straight teeth. All of which Levi wanted to ram his fists firmly through.

“Hospitality,” Levi mockingly spit the word back at the general. Thought about the people locked outside the heavy iron gates. All the good that hospitality got them, huh?

“I would assume a man like you from Mitras would understand the meaning of the word.”

Levi grit his teeth, “Listen, you fucking-”

“Ah, thank you, Irene.” Erwin passed a single gold coin to the portly woman as he reached for the full tankard. Foam sloshed over the edge and splashed loudly onto the countertop as the man slid the cup over the Levi. He caught it easily in his palm, fingers wrapping around the lukewarm mug. Thin lips fitted snugly around the brim as he took a swig, a cringe immediately making itself visible as he swallowed down the liquid. “It’s not exactly His Majesty’s wine, huh?”

Levi narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t some fancy noble who only lived off drink that tasted of sweet berries and flowers. He took another gulp.

“It tastes like damn horse piss.”

“That’s a kind description,” Erwin laughed, bringing his own mug up to his lips regardless. Levi hummed before returning to his drink. The unease in his gut had returned tenfold sitting next to the general. It felt like he was walking a very thin line of treason and camaraderie as he remained perched in the uncomfortable barstool, neither of which he felt very keen on exploring. “Why did you accept this commission, Mr. Ackerman?”

The question was a trick, it had to be. Some sort of convoluted way of getting Levi to admit secret desires that he’d been able to keep safely stored away inside his head. A manipulative query from an even more manipulative man. However, he was not some gossiping wench who spent their days fantasizing about the next public execution.

A tight sigh blew out from his nose, rippling the beer in the tankard. “The coin.”

“Hah! And you say you didn’t need mine? Why, Mr. Ackerman, I’m insulted.”

His nostrils flared hotly as he turned to the man. “I don’t need the coin of some military pig who slaughters innocents on the king’s orders,” he whispered lowly. Levi’s eyes widened slightly with the admission.

Shit.

At first, Levi almost believed that Erwin didn’t hear him. That his words were lost to the drunken merriment within the tavern. However, when the general’s expression darkened he knew the insult had been heard loud and clear.

“You have an eye for war, Mr. Ackerman?” Erwin’s voice sounded different now. Cold. Calculated. It was enough to bring the hairs on the back of Levi’s neck to a peak.

His voice remained steadfast as he spoke, “I never said that.” But he said enough. Enough to out himself as one who openly detested the king’s commands.

However, Erwin continued as if Levi hadn’t said a word. “Everyone thinks you are from Mitras, correct? It’s a fine town. Lovely people. However, I’m almost positive that Mitras has been wholly unaffected by the war.” Levi’s throat started to tighten as his grip around the mug strengthened. “No mass casualties besides the fools who throw themselves willingly onto a soldier’s blade. So, where are you really from, Levi?” The breath sucked into the bottom of his lungs was short and sharp. Felt as if he had been doused with a bucket of icy water as cool, blue eyes analyzed his expression.

Swallowing the ever-rising fear clawing at his chest, Levi schooled his face into a neutral look. “I’d think you’d worry more about your soldiers shitting their pants from all this pig swill.” He swiveled his body out of the barstool, boots landing flatly in the dirt with a satisfying smack. Abandoning his nearly full mug, Levi resented that this night would surely end with him sipping cold tea instead of welcoming a much-needed buzz. Suddenly, a hand wrapped securely around his wrist. Instinctively, Levi wretched his limb away, the grip all too familiar to that of manacles attached to an iron chain.

“Do not fear, Mr. Ackerman. I believe our paths may be more linear than I originally suspected.” Levi could only offer a narrowed glare as the man vacated the seat and returned to the rowdy group of soldiers who cheered eagerly at Erwin’s return.

Bunch of bloody neanderthals, he thought with a sneer.

--

Despite it being the middle of summer, the air had taken quite a chill once the sun receded below the horizon. As it was now, Levi shivered once stepping foot outside the tavern walls. The walk back to the keep was not long, but he was positive that his bones would be brittle by the end of it. Wrapping his arms tightly around himself, Levi began his march back to his chambers.

He’d only made it a few feet before a familiar shout managed to draw his attention to a dark corner shadowed by hay bales and wagons. Levi had never been a particularly curious boy. Always knew to leave well enough alone when well enough could send a knife between your ribs. This trait followed him into adulthood, and it had served him well thus far. So, it was completely perplexing as to why his movements began to drift toward the sound.

Pressed up against the wall was a woman, her dress lifted scandalously against thick, voluptuous thighs. Legs were tangled securely behind the man’s back, jolting as he moved against her. The tailcoat thankfully protected the man’s modesty as Levi glanced down to spot breeches bundled gracelessly around tanned ankles.

Levi knew he should leave. This didn’t exactly look like an intimate moment being shared between lovers, more like two souls just trying to enjoy release behind the courtyard stables. However, he was frozen. Eyes glued to the way the moonlight reflected off the woman’s upturned neck. The fingers digging bruises into the soft skin. Levi couldn’t look away.

Maybe it was the beauty behind the act. The delicate lines that he could envision painted on a canvas. All sweeping motions that portrayed an act of love and not some meaningless roll in the hay.

“Hey! What are you doing?” A feminine voice yelled out, breaking his imaginings as his eyes refocused on the sight. The woman looked horrified, hands adjusting the ruffles in her dress as she glanced at him with disdain. “You absolute cretin. Sneaking around the courtyard like this.”

Levi was unperturbed by her comments, gaze hardening under her stare. He’d heard much worse in his lifetime, been called far crueler things. “Your squawking was hard to ignore. I thought a poor beast had been mangled behind the stables. Turns out I was only half wrong.”

The woman’s face reddened, mouth opening and closing like a fish being tossed on dry land.

“Don’t mind the artist, dear.” Still facing the wall, the prince adjusted himself, deft hands fastening the white breeches. When Eren turned around, it was with a sinful smirk that caused his jaw to tighten and palms to sweat. “He’s probably never fucked a woman before and was curious to see how it was done.”

Levi’s teeth clenched so hard that he was sure the bones would break.

Eren stepped forward, a lecherous look in the emerald stare. Despite the man’s best efforts, the clothes were still disheveled. A plum waistcoat was hanging open, the cloth shirt beneath it only buttoned halfway. His gaze betrayed him as Eren closed in, roaming across the exposed skin of the man’s upper chest. Tracing the lines from collarbone to abdominals. Levi swallowed hard lest he began to look like the wanton woman left against the mossy brick wall. Once the prince reached Levi, a hand reached out. Those nimble fingers he had watched skirt up the side of the canvas now latched themselves to his chin. “Am I wrong?” Eren’s breath reeked of booze and the man’s eyes were slow to focus.

“You’re drunk,” Levi muttered, making a half-assed attempt to free himself from the prince’s grip. The man just squeezed tighter, and Levi imagined the unsightly bruise that would surely appear the next morning. Eren was lucky. If not for his royal blood, Levi would have already broken his wrist and sent him home wailing. Nevertheless, Levi let the boy king manhandle his face to meet a glazed expression.

“I would teach you. If you begged.” The confession was whispered into the night, darkly sweet and melting into his ears. A toothy smile spread across Eren’s face as Levi felt heat begin to extend across his cheeks.

“You think too highly of yourself, Your Highness,” Levi sneered.

The smile didn’t fade from the prince’s expression. Instead, a thumb lifted to trace Levi’s bottom lip, as that lustful gaze flitted down to his mouth.

“Perhaps you’re right, artist.” Then the hold was gone, the feeling of those long, nimble fingers leaving fire in their wake. The prince turned away, unsteady steps taking him back to the waiting woman. Eren wrapped an arm around her shoulder as they began to walk in the direction of the tavern. A hand was nonchalantly thrown up into the wind. “Get a good night’s rest, artist. I shall see you bright and early if my stomach allows it.”

Levi watched as they moved further and further away until the pair disappeared behind the tavern doors.

Left alone in the chilly summer breeze, Levi felt resolute in his thinking that, indeed, Eren Jaeger was just like his father.

[daily-dose-of-imagines]

ʙɪɢ ʙᴀᴅ ᴡᴏʟꜰ  1 / 2 | 𝕁𝕁𝔹𝔸 𝟛 [Drabble]

ᴡᴏʟꜰ ʜʏʙʀɪᴅ!ᴊᴏᴛᴀʀᴏ x ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

[Part 2]

It’s been stuck in my head-- yes I’m sinning I live for this shit okay ;; man I just need big buff beefy bois to snap my twig existence in h a l f man

Hope y’all enjoy this mess SKSKSKSKS and yes, this is lowkey an au where all the jojo’s are alive together and are family-- they a big ol pack

» » Admin Ko

»»————-　★　————-««

As a child, we’re reminded of the various tales of horror and mutilation through history via nursery rhymes and classic fairy tales. Initially hearing these tales, one wouldn’t think much of it besides the basic undertones of safety and precaution to one’s surroundings. Yet upon further inspection, the darker images begin to conjure up and grasp at the reader with it’s terrifying corpse-like grip.

Dragging them deeper and deeper into the lore of a fairy tale’s true history.

ⳮⷤ ── ⲇ ── ⳮⷤ

Stumbling down the stone path, you couldn’t help but feel a sliver of frustration bite at your ankles. It had been 30 minutes--or what you perceived to be 30 minutes-- of wandering in circles. Every turn you took and every path you deemed new only brought you back to the same goddamn spot. 

Perhaps you were going mad, or maybe the map the town’s village head gave you was a fake after all! Initially taking this request was something you vehemently denied, despite being one of the few traveling merchants, you were quite picky in which requests you’d take. 

After all, the world you lived in wasn’t very kind to humans. The stories you heard from the townsfolk and from your own grandmother had you avoiding the woods that surrounded your quaint village. Though as you grew older you found an odd sort of serenity to the strange forest. 

Of course you still avoided passing through it at night, but your perspective of the woods had changed during daylight. Though of course that was not the case now as you stood stranded with no idea of how to get out of the godforsaken forest; and to think you were actually starting to actually like taking brief walks through it.

“Damn map!” 

Annoyed, you threw the tattered and worn patch of leather into your basket as you adjusted the deep maroon hood that adorned your figure. Ah yes, little red riding hood. Lost and alone in the big wide unknown.

“Just my fucking luck...” 

With no other option, you decided against a luck at fate as you strayed off the path you told yourself you’d never leave. Oh, if you could look at your past self and tell them the stupid thing you just did.

Putting on a brave front, you ventured deeper into the trees as the shrubs and greenery became more wild. The amount of rocks and dirt making for an unsteady path as leafs and foliage found refuge on your hood. 

‘What a fucking pain...’ You thought as you blew a stray leaf out of your way. Though at that moment you felt your body freeze as a sudden howl filled the once empty air around you. Suddenly feeling suffocated, you blindly ran through the forest. In hindsight, you should’ve thought this through more carefully, but fight or flight had taken up your thoughts and your immediate reaction had been flight.

What a mistake that was as you heard the sounds of heavy ground shaking steps. Each getting closer to your desperate form as you blindly shoved at branches and bushes in your way before you tripped.

Your breath knocked out of you as you stumbled forward and unfortunately towards the slanted hill. Bracing yourself, you let gravity have it’s fun as it tugged you mercilessly down against the unforgiving forest floor. 

Once settled at the bottom of the hill you let yourself lay there. Allowing your body the much needed break as you mentally went through a checklist of your body and well being. 

As far as you were aware, nothing was broken and no deep gashes had made themselves apparent to you. Thus concluding, you’d definitely wake up sore as fuck tomorrow with a side of bruises. 

That was, if you were going to see tomorrow. The sudden realization dawned upon you. As you were going through your mental checklist, a large burly figure had made it’s way towards you. The same one that had most likely chased you to this point.

Fuck. You were going to die weren’t you?

Staying absolutely still, you kept your eyes focused on the falling leaves as whatever had chased you stopped behind you. Despite not even touching you, you could practically feel it breathing on you. Preparing for the worst, you closed your eyes and wished for a quick death. 

Instead, you heard a rather annoyed huff and equally annoyed voice.

“Oi, woman. What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

ⳮⷤ ── ⲇ ── ⳮⷤ

Unsure of what to do, you stayed frozen on the ground in hopes of getting by like a possum would and whoever-- rather whatever it was would leave you the fuck alone.

Unfortunately, that didn’t come to reality.

“Are you deaf? I know you’re not dead so quit the dumb act and tell me what the fuck you’re doing in this area.”

Another aggravated yet annoyed prod at your prone form before the mysterious figure finally moved. Thinking your plan had worked, you waited with baited breath for the annoyed figure to disappear from the area. Yet of course, that didn’t happen as your (e/c) met with sharp oceanic turquoise ones.

Not long after did a scream come from you as you finally moved and scurried back as you finally got a good look at whoever had found you.

The figure, or now identified wolf hybrid stood looking annoyed-- if not pissed off at your screams as the veins on the side of his head seemed to bulge in irritation. His brows furrowed in against his rather handsome face as he gave you a sharp and pointed glare.

“Shut the hell up! Your screams are annoying! It pissed me off!” He barked out. His hands shoved deeply into his pockets as his blue green eyes pierced into your own (e/c).  

Taking a moment to calm down, you slowly began to inhale and exhale through your nose as you felt your quaking heart begin to find a steady rhythm once again. Feeling better and much more calm, you finally looked up to the person who found you. Though you were surprised with what you saw.

He seemed human for the most part. A long black coat that ended at his knees with a gold chain accessory at the collar, a simple pair of black pants, a tight forest green shirt, and a...hat that seemed to merge with his hair? 

Over all, he would’ve seemed like any other human in her town. Save for the pointed wolf ears and the bushy tail behind him. 

“...I...Wha--?” 

Smart. Definitely intelligent. An annoyed scoff came from the man as he finally withdrew his hands from his pockets. A pack of cigarettes sat in one hand while the other had a lighter. With a swift motion, the addictive nicotine was lit and sat delicately on his plump lips as he pocketed the two items once more.

“I’m asking ya, what the fuck are you doing in this area? Humans usually never wander in this area unless they’re looking for something.”

Calm and composed, he took a drag of his cigarette before he made his way over towards you. Your own form seizing up as your fingers grasped desperately at the grass. He paused though, taking note of your hunched up and terrified form before muttering under his breath and stopping a quarter of the way.

“Tch. I’m not gonna eat or hurt you.”

You weren’t convinced though. Staying alert, you wearily gazed at the man before finally finding the courage to speak. 

“...I... I was on a request and got stuck in this loop because of a shitty map and decided to go off path.”

At your response, the man couldn’t help but feel a tick of annoyance before finishing off his cigarette.

“Did you have a map? If so, who gave it to you?”

You pondered this for a moment, unsure if revealing that would end with a massacre in your village, or if it would help you figure out which asshole pawned the fake map to your town’s chief. 

Deciding to take up the latter, you confessed to him how you came to your situation.

“I got it from my town’s chief who bought it off of some random merchant. He seemed convinced it was real and gave it to me to use whenever I went out to do my requests.”

It was silent for a moment, then a heavy irritated sigh came from the man as he pulled the tip of his hat forward. 

“I have an idea of who the fuck gave your town’s chief that map. I’ll get some solid proof though. For now, you’re coming with me.”

The statement had you freeze as you felt your throat close up. Sensing your sudden dread and fear the man rolled his eyes before continuing.

“It’s getting dark and it wouldn’t be smart to try to lead you home in that state. Tch, my pack will help get you healed up before I take you back tomorrow.”

With that, the man finally drew closer to you. Ignoring your whine of fear as he, to your surprise, gently grabbed your arm and helped you up before he began to drag you towards a path.

After some time of walking the man eventually let go of your arm as you began walking on your own accord. With time, your eyes eventually settled on an area that seemed more open than the areas you had been into prior. The cave and fire catching your attention as more creatures similar to the man beside you.

“Oh Jotaro! I didn’t know you were bringing home guests~!”

A cheery voice rang as your gaze fell on an even bigger man. Your eyes widened as you took in his huge stature before being once again surprised as he delicately holds your hand to shake. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you miss! I’m Johnathon! Johnathon Joestar, but you can call me JoJo! I do hope Jotaro wasn’t rude to you!” 

“O-Oh! None at all, he actually kinda...helped me?”

Your response gave the male before you a curious look as he tilted his head before looking to the stoic and quiet man next to you. When no response came, he went to ask you another question before the man you could now identify as Jotaro, spoke. 

“Some shit happened and she needs to stay the night, Johnathon. Is Jolyne back? She fell down a hill and needs to be patched up.”

Shocked, Johnathon turned to face you again as his bright blue eyes scanned over your form worriedly. A quick, ‘Language, Jotaro!’ and a nod as he gently tugged you towards the bustling fire. 

As you were dragged away from the blunt male, you couldn’t help but mentally thank whatever was watching over your dumbass as you managed to survive the night. 

Though you couldn’t help but honestly wonder. Who sold the map to the town’s chief, and why the fuck did you have to have the bad luck to receive it? 

You could only hope that the questions would be answered within the following day.