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thinkingaboutbetterdays · 5 months ago

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cloak and dagger. ( alexander x reader )

gif belongs to me

It was a warm summer night when he first saw you. The Pflichttreue was driving to Portland after being summoned by De Groot. Nearing the outskirts, he saw you walking along the road, carrying a suitcase, and he slowed down, pressing the button to lower the window. He leaned over the console, ducking his head as he called out to you.

"Are you alright?"

You leaned on the window with a sheepish smile, "My car broke down. I was trying to find my way to a B&B in Portland."

"I'm heading that way. I can take you there."

"Would you? That would be amazing."

Alexander nodded and got out of the car, walking around to help you with your suitcase. He glanced around as he carried it to the trunk, wondering where your car was. You thanked him as he placed it in his trunk.

"No problem." He sent you a small smile, "This is the last place a woman should be walking alone." He walked to the passenger door, holding it open, and you missed the way his eyes scanned his surroundings, sensing he had found you just in time.

He had been brought to Portland after there were several killings on the outskirts of the city. He closed the door once you were safely inside, and you watched as he walked around the front of the car, seeing his tailored suit in the headlights and a glimpse of his sharp features. He took a discreet inhale and knew you weren't a Wesen. You were a human, or as Wesen called a Kehrseite.

"Thanks again." You spoke up as he started to drive off. "I'm Y/N."

"Alexander."

"You're from England?"

He glanced at you with a smile, "Is it that noticeable?"

"Yes, but probably as noticeable as my accent is to you. Although you give less Hugh Grant and more Henry Cavill."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"As you should."

Alexander glanced at you when you turned your head to look out of the window. "What brings you to Portland?"

"Family." You turned to meet his gaze, "I've been travelling for a while and decided to come home. I booked the B&B because I knew I would arrive at an ungodly hour." Alexander nodded, keeping his eyes on the road as he drove. "What about you?" Seeing the faint lift of his eyebrow, you elaborated, "What brings you to Portland?"

"Business." He sent you a trained smile, "It always does."

"I figure you're either an accountant or a secret agent sent to uncover trade secrets."

Alexander knew you weren't a Wesen and therefore knew nothing about the Council. So, to throw you off completely, he said, "The company that I work for has important assets in the US. I was sent to review them."

You nodded, "I was kind of hoping you would be a secret agent."

Alexander turned his head to look at you, feeling his lips curving upwards on their own accord, "If I was a secret agent, I could hardly admit it, could I?"

You mirrored his smile, "That's right. So maybe you're just trying to throw me off by admitting you're an accountant."

"No, I'm afraid my life is not that exciting. Speaking of excitement, where have you traveled to?"

He was subtly changing the subject, and his grip around the steering wheel relaxed when you indulged him. You would settle down for a few months, earn some money, and then move on to the next circle on your map.

A short while later, Alexander pulled up outside a hotel and asked how long you intended to stay in Portland.

You smiled softly, "This is the last stop. My family needs me, and who knows? We might bump into each other again. I may be the woman who makes your tea."

Alexander chuckled as you both got out of the car, resting a hand on the roof as he looked over at you. The streetlamp gave him a better view of your beauty, and the sight almost sent him staggering back.

"Then I shall endeavor to be in your good graces."

"You're already off to a great start." You closed the car door, following him to the trunk. Alexander looked at the suitcase that had lost its wheels and insisted on carrying it inside.

You greeted the receptionist with a smile, and she checked your name on the computer before giving you the key. You turned to Alexander, who looked overdressed in the six-bedroom B&B that resembled a grandmother's house.

"Thank you for, well, everything tonight." You sent him a bashful smile. "When I get a job, the tea is on me."

Alexander knew the odds of running into you again were slim as he rarely walked the streets of Portland unless stalking after a rogue Wesen.

Still, he chuckled at the offer, and said, "I might take you up on that." He glanced at your suitcase, brows furrowing, "Do you need a hand with that?"

"I have it, sir." A twenty-something walked down the stairs and you thanked him when he took your suitcase.

Alexander slowly nodded, finding he was oddly reluctant to part ways so soon. "Well then...goodnight."

"Night, Mr. Not-A-Secret-Agent-But-Totally-Looks-Like-One." You looked over your shoulder as you followed the twenty-something to your room for the night, sending Alexander a smile.

Alexander watched as you disappeared upstairs before shaking his head, looking at his watch as he walked out of the B&B. De Groot would be wondering where he was by now. He gracefully entered his car and drove off, leaving the B&B behind but thoughts of you, and the scent of your perfume lingered for weeks.

As the second week passed, Alexander was growing more certain that your paths would never cross again and found that while it was probably for the best, being someone who fought to keep Wesen hidden from Kehrseites, he still thought of you more than twice a day. What had you been up to since you last saw each other? How was your family? Did you find a job in a coffee shop?

On the third week, he finally got the answers to the questions nagging in his brain. In Rosalee's Spice Shop of all places. The Fuchsbau kept the store open later than usual and while Alexander was speaking to Nick and Monroe in the back room, he heard the bell above the door ring and Rosalee left to speak to the person who entered. His brow furrowed slightly when he swore he heard your voice and when he walked out after completing his business with the Grimm for the day, he found that you were gone but the scent of your perfume was all the proof he needed that you had been there.

After leaving the Spice Shop, Alexander walked to his car and looked around as he unlocked it. Being an agent for the Council he learned to always be aware of his surroundings. There were many Wesen who disagreed with the Council and it only took one slip up to be caught off guard. He tilted his head when he heard muttered curses and locked his car, following the sound of hands hitting a steering wheel, to find you sitting in the driver seat of your car, head against the headrest with your eyes closed.

His lips quirked upward as he knocked on the window and you gasped, turning your head, sighing in relief when you saw him. Alexander didn't dare acknowledge the way his heart pounded when you smiled at him. You got out of the car and closed the door.

"Car troubles?"

"It's cursed."

Alexander shook his head with a smile, "Come on, I'll drive you home."

"My hero." You sighed dramatically. "Are you sure you don't have anywhere to be? I don't want to hold you up."

"Nothing important." It was a lie, of course. De Groot expected him to report to the Council as soon as he left the Spice Shop, but Alexander hadn't called in yet, and until he did, his presence wouldn't be missed.

You took out a box of herbal teas Rosalee had given you to try and help you sleep better, locking your car. Alexander took the box and you shook your head as you fell into step beside him. "You know, we're one more save away from making this a habit."

"I prefer to call it a happy coincidence."

"I can carry things, you know. And I'm not always so helpless."

"I'm becoming rather fond of helping you." He admitted and you looked up at him, meeting his gaze with a smile that he returned. "How is your family?"

And so, as he drove you home, the Pflichttreue asked all the questions that had been bugging him for weeks. You were working at a restaurant and when you weren't working, you helped your family, and when you weren't helping family you were trying to catch up on sleep but could never get enough hours to feel properly rested.

"I knew the house was old, but I had the plumbing checked before I bought it."

Alexander apologized when his phone rang and he took it out of his pocket, seeing De Groot's number. It seemed he had waited long enough. He debated on answering it, and when it stopped ringing, he knew he would have some explaining to do later, but for now, he placed it under the radio.

"Work?" You asked, seeing the slight tightening of his jaw. Alexander nodded. "I can walk from here if you have somewhere to be."

Alexander shook his head.

"Okay..." You weren't complaining. The more time you could have together, you would gladly accept and you would enjoy every second. The mysterious Alexander hadn't left your thoughts since the night he had driven you to the B&B. "How is work as an accountant going?"

Alexander glanced at you, hearing the emphasis you used, his grip on the wheel loosening as his lips lifted slightly. "It's fine. Boring."

You playfully rolled your eyes. "I have another theory."

"You are awfully interested in what I do for a living."

"I'm thinking..." Alexander chuckled when you tapped your cheek thoughtfully. "less secret agent, more Batman."

"Batman?"

"You know, the comic book vigilante?"

Alexander shook his head. "I assure you my work is extremely boring."

You doubted it, only growing more curious about Alexander the more he claimed the life he led was dull. "I can't imagine anything about you being boring."

He turned his head to look at you, finding you were looking out the window at the lights passing by. A short while later he parked outside your house and eyed the neighborhood warily. "This is where you live?"

"Yeah," You noticed his tone of disbelief and turned to him as you got out of the car. "Why? What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing." He replied quickly and you shook your head as you closed the door.

Alexander got out of the car and glanced around, sensing there was more lurking in this neighborhood than Kehrseite criminals. A discreet inhale was all the proof he needed to know you lived among several Wesen. Including a family of Luisant-Pêcheur, an otter-like Wesen, and a Coyoti, a coyote-like Wesen. But most troubling was the scent of a Lausenschlange, a snake-like Wesen. He had dealt with more than a handful of Lausenschlange's over the years and all of them were hostile.

You playfully sighed when he took the box of herbal tea from your arms and headed to the porch, unlocking the door.

"Why do you have so much tea?" He asked, following you to the kitchen and placing the box on the countertop.

"The shopkeeper Rosalee is so sweet. She came to the restaurant and said she had some tea that she believed could help me get a good night's sleep." You explained, leaning on the countertop. "Want one for the road?"

Alexander considered it, but he knew he was already too close as it was. He believed humans, Kehrseites, couldn't handle the truth about the Wesen world, but when he looked at you, the smile on your lips warmer than the desert, he wanted to believe it was possible. That maybe, just maybe, humans and Wesen could co-exist despite his job being to cover up any Wesen-related crimes and kill rogue Wesen who threatened their peaceful existence.

"How are you going to make it?"

Your smile became teasing, "Microwave." Alexander took a step back and you giggled, halting his steps, the sound catching him by surprise. You were a beautiful, bewitching woman and your laugh was like a melody to his ears. "Kettle." You shrugged, "I spent two months in England. I tried to microwave when I came back to the States, but I felt like I was committing a felony."

Alexander chuckled, nodding. "I can stay for tea."

You sent him a smile before turning to fill the kettle with water. "And work?"

"Nothing that can't wait a few more minutes."

You moved to the living room with your teacups and Alexander looked at the cup, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow. "I feel fancy drinking tea."

He shook his head with a smile.

That evening, calls went to voicemail, as the Pflichttreue lingered longer, and you learned more about his family in England although Alexander kept out one or two Wesen-like details. You tucked your legs beneath you as you spoke about your family and Alexander knew it was an easy decision to move back to the States. When your family needed you, you would drop everything to help, just as they would do for you.

He rested his arm on the back of the sofa, reaching out to brush your hair away from your shoulder, so it cascaded down your back, no longer blocking his view of your features that he considered perfect. Due to his work with the Wesen Council, Alexander believed he should have been more startled by the thoughts running through his mind, but he couldn't deny that falling in love with you would be an easy thing to do.

Did being a Kehrseite have to complicate things?

For days he pondered this at great length. His standing with the Council could be questioned, but not if he kept it quiet. Dating a Kehrseite would only become a problem if you found out about the Wesen world and his Pflichttreue heritage.

You had arrived home from work one night when a plumber knocked on your door. You were confused when he argued that he had gotten a call about your house and you realized it had to be Alexander who made the call. You shook your head, stepping aside to let the plumber inside.

You were pleasantly surprised when Alexander entered the restaurant as you looked in the book for a couple's reservation and after finding a waiter to take them to their table, you sent him a smile when he approached the podium.

"Hi! I thought you were flying back this morning."

"I decided to extend my stay for a few days." He replied with a small smile. "I want to take you out for dinner if you would do me the honor?"

You nodded, "I'd love to."

"Tomorrow night? I'll pick you up at eight?"

You agreed and Alexander smiled before turning around to leave. "It's my treat."

He turned, eyebrows furrowing, "What?"

"For the plumber you sent to my house and paid for."

Before he could catch it, a smirk formed on his lips then his features feigned innocence. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

You shook your head when he walked out before greeting another couple, checking their reservation before leading them to their table. You bit the inside of your cheek as you thought about your date tomorrow night and when you returned to the podium, you felt your blushing cheeks, fanning yourself with the reservation book.

The next night, Alexander arrived precisely at eight o'clock and when you answered the door in a dress and heels, he was at a loss for words. You glanced at your dress then at the Pflichttreue who cleared his throat, blinking as he snapped out of his daze.

"I can change?"

"What? No! No! You look...incredible.",

You smiled softly, feeling a blush form on your cheeks at his breathy response and knew the dress you had chosen had its desired effect. "Well, you look...like you always do."

Alexander chuckled, "Is that a good thing?"

"A very good thing."

He smiled as you stepped outside, locking the door, and offered you his arm. You looped your left arm with his right arm as you walked down the driveway to his car. Alexander opened the door, turning to you as he held it open, unable to tear his eyes away. As he closed the door once you were inside, you buckled your seatbelt with a smile, pleased that he appeared as affected by you as you were by him for once.

While dinner began with small smiles, by the end of the night you graduated to holding hands across the table as you talked and Alexander adored how easy it was to be with you, how easy it was to talk to you, and loved seeing your features lit up as you laughed. You stayed an hour after dinner, sharing a glass of wine as you dived deeper into each other's pasts. As you left the restaurant, he took off his jacket, standing behind you as he placed it over your shoulders. You held your breath as he freed your hair from beneath the collar, smiling as you turned to him, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

Your eyelashes fluttered when he placed a hand on your cheek and you closed your eyes when his lips brushed yours. Your hands rose to the curve of his neck as he kissed you, holding back a pleasant groan as he placed a hand on your back, bringing you closer. You pulled away moments later, glancing up from his tie to meet his gaze, biting your lower lip.

You knew you only had two more days left before he left the States, and wished you could spend every second with him, not knowing when he would return.

You looped your arm with his and rested your right hand on his arm while you approached your house.

"Thank you for tonight. I had a wonderful time."

"I did too. I am staying in Portland for two more days before I have to return to England but I would like to see you before I leave." Alexander placed a hand over your hand with a smile.

"I'm having dinner with my parents tomorrow night. But we can have lunch together?"

Alexander nodded, placing a hand on your cheek as you turned to him while standing on the top step, almost matching his height with your heels and the added height of the step. You closed your eyes when he kissed you with a passion you had never experienced before, wrapping your arms around his neck as he moved his hands to your waist, bringing you closer as he deepened the kiss. You pulled away a few moments later, biting your lip as you caught your breath.

"Do you want to come inside?"

Alexander knew he should've walked away before things became more complicated, but if being around you had taught him anything it was he was a weak man when it came to you. He nodded slowly, and for every step you took backward, he took forward, and you unlocked the door turning as you stepped into the house, wrapping your arms around his neck when he brought you into his embrace, reigniting your kiss as he kicked the door closed.

Since that night Alexander spent more time in Portland, keeping his visits quiet, hiding himself from the Wesen Council to avoid anyone finding out that he was dating a Kehrseite. When he did visit Portland for Council business he always snuck away for a few hours to be with you. You never questioned what he did for a living, but you always asked how his day went after he returned from an errand for the Council. As time passed, the lies he spun to prevent you from finding out the truth twisted his gut as his guilt grew, but he knew keeping the two worlds apart was keeping you safe. Safe from the knowledge that you were sleeping with a killer, an agent, a hitman, for a Council of people who believed that humans and Wesen could not coexist peacefully and his job was to keep the truth hidden from humans whenever a Wesen went rogue.

You looked at him as if he was the most caring man you had ever met, which he was when he was around you. But when he was sent on a job for the Council he had to bury that person down to complete his work. For two years Alexander succeeded in maintaining his ruse, and when you traveled to England to meet his family, they loved him enough not to question his methods and greeted you warmly. Your wedding was a family affair. Alexander was a private person, more so when it came to you. Your wedding was both of your families watching you walk down the aisle and Alexander trying not to cry at your beauty and holding back the urge to confess everything then and there.

His fears about telling you the truth weren't about your reaction. It was the Wesen community who some members believed he and the Council were the enemy. The Council wouldn't understand, for he had sworn to protect the Wesen way of life by covering up its existence, and Alexander did not know what they would do. He knew you would be hurt that he had kept such a large part of himself hidden from you, but the Pflichttreue believed it was the only way to protect you - both from the disappointment and the attacks that would follow when Wesen found out you were married to one of the top agents for the Council. But he knew he couldn't hide it from you forever.

Especially when you announced that you were pregnant.

"P-Pregnant?"

You nodded with tears in your eyes. "I went to the doctor this morning to confirm it." You knew his next question before he could ask it. "Six weeks." You giggled nervously when he didn't speak. "I know it's a surprise but a happy one, right?"

Alexander tore himself from his daze, quietening the whispers rattling his brain that warned him that it was time to tell you the truth and he'd sealed your fate. "A brilliant surprise." He stepped forward, hugging you tightly and you smiled against his shoulder as he closed his eyes, allowing himself to enjoy the moment. Alexander stepped back a few moments later and you frowned when you saw the way his jaw ticked when he was worried about something, and the tears in his eyes.

"What's wrong?"

He shook his head, "I'm thrilled. I am truly. It's -" He stepped back and held out a hand when you stepped forward to comfort him. "I'm sorry."

"Alex, you're scaring me." You felt tears pricking your eyes.

"I don't want to." He closed his eyes, exhaling sharply. "It's the last thing I want."

"Then talk to me."

He shook his head, meeting your gaze. "It's easier to show you."

"Show me?" Your eyes widened when he woged for the first time and you stared at the Pflichttreue in disbelief. "Wha- How? What?" You stepped back subconsciously, placing a hand on the countertop when you felt your back hit it.

"I won't hurt you." He shook his head, reverting to his human form. "I can explain everything."

"Y-You -" Your eyebrows knit together, "How did you - What?" You breathed heavily and the Pflichttreue lowered his head when you moved away, the breakfast bar separating you both.

That night Alexander told you everything. The truth about who he was, who his family were, and his work for the Wesen Council. You moved to the living room, sitting on the armchair in disbelief, wiping away tears that fell down your cheeks.

"You lied to me."

"I was trying to protect you."

"From what?" You met his gaze for the first time for over an hour and the Pflichttreue swallowed the gravel in his throat when he saw your tears.

"From me. From my world." He admitted. "I never intended to hurt you, I was trying to protect you. That's all I wanted. I tried to stay away, but I couldn't. Even when I barely knew you, I loved you. And I don't want to lose you."

"Will they..." You placed a hand on your stomach and Alexander nodded. "Oh God." You covered your mouth, moving away from the armchair and the Pflichttreue whose gaze followed you as you stood by the window. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath before meeting his gaze. "Two years. Two years! And you never said a word!"

He hung his head, and you saw it then. The vulnerability, his fear, and the helplessness. He couldn't change what he was, but he tried, to be with you. "I'm sorry. I can't...I know I can't turn back the clock, and undo it. I know I don't deserve it...but I-I," He looked at the ground as a tear fell down his cheek. "I need it. I need you."

You shook your head, "Does it hurt?" Alexander met your gaze. "That shifting thing. Will it hurt them?"

Alexander shook his head. "No." He stepped forward as you looked at the ground, "No, they will feel no pain. I promise."

Tears fell on your cheeks as a sob left your lips, this time from relief and Alexander cautiously reached out, bringing you into his embrace, sighing in relief when you rested your head on his chest. You clutched his jacket tightly, as you listened to his whispered apologies. You lifted your head after a few minutes and he wiped your tears away with his thumbs.

"No more secrets."

He nodded, closing his eyes as he rested his forehead against yours. "I promise."

You pulled away a few moments later. "Show me again."

Alexander looked at you hesitantly before he woged and your eyes widened, but you remained in his embrace. Curiosity replaced your previous fears and you tentatively reached up to place a hand on his cheek.

"I knew you were different when we met, but I didn't know how much."

"I'm still the man you married."

You lowered your hand, shaking your head, "You hid yourself from me, Alex. How am I to know what was you, and the person you pretended to be."

"The person I was with you, is the person I wish I was."

"You are a-a -"

"Pflichttreue." He supplied.

"A Pflichttreue. But you changed every story about your past and your family as if you were ashamed of it. I don't want that. I would never want that."

"Tell me what I need to do, and I'll do it."

You shook your head and his expression faltered, believing you were going to tell him that you were staying with your parents, or telling him to leave the house you spent half your time in, the other half his estate in England.

"I need you to help me." You met his gaze with teary eyes. "I want to tell them stories about you. I want to be there for them, and I can't do that if I don't know anything about Wesen. I don't want to be heavily involved in the community. I just...I want to be a good mother."

"You will be." Alexander held your teary gaze, "You will be a fantastic mother."

"But I don't even know how to raise a baby. How can I raise a Wesen when there's so much I don't understand?"

He nuzzled his nose against yours and you closed your eyes, placing a hand on his neck. "I'll help you."

You pulled back slightly to meet his gaze, and a small smile formed on your lips. "I'm still mad at you, but you look so cute."

Alexander rolled his eyes when you hugged his waist. He rested his chin on your head with a smile, wrapping his arms around you and when you pulled back briefly to kiss his cheek, he knew that you would get through this and the weight on his chest got a little lighter.

There weren't many things that could rattle Alexander. He was the only person who could walk into an alley full of thugs and walk confidently out the other side. You never understood why, until that night when he told you that the Wesen community wasn't always a friendly place, filled with dangerous Wesen who hunted humans, and that he was sent by his superior to eliminate the threat to the secrecy of Wesen life. Alexander revealed the Wesens you had come in contact with and you were surprised when he told you about Rosalee and Monroe and their affiliation with a Grimm whose day job was a detective at the Portland Police Department.

The more you learned about the different types of Wesen the more convinced you were that he was right to keep your relationship hidden. And so, while you continued to buy tea from Rosalee, not hinting that you knew she was a Fuchsbau, or that Monroe was a Blutbad, your life remained largely the same, yet it was forever changed.

There weren't many things that could rattle Alexander. But when he came home after hunting a Wesen who was stealing people's memories and found evidence that you had been taken from the house, confirmed by the letter left by your kidnappers, the Pflichttreue immediately panicked. You were due to go into labor any day now, and he knew how ruthless Wesen could be.

Nick was stunned when Monroe called him and said that Alexander was in his house. When the Grimm entered Alexander was standing in the living room, Rosalee glancing between the Blutbad and the Pflichttreue who stared at each other.

Monroe opened the door with a sigh when the Grimm knocked. "Glad you're here."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Monroe closed the door as Nick entered, standing across from Alexander.

"Thank you for coming."

"I wish I could say the same." Nick slid his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, "How long have you been here?"

"Less than an hour. I would not have waited any longer." Alexander replied, putting his hands in the pockets of his jacket, and walking around before turning to the wary Grimm. "I need your help."

"Really? I didn't know you asked Grimms for help."

"It depends on the circumstances. And the Grimm."

"What is it that the Council thinks I can do for them?"

"The Council doesn't know about this." Alexander stunned the room into silence for a moment before adding, "And what I am about to tell you cannot leave this room. No one can know."

Monroe glanced at Rosalee who was equally perplexed.

Alexander began to shock the room further when he revealed he was married to a Kehrseite. Rosalee audibly gasped when he told them it was you. The Pflichttreue recalled the events that took place almost two hours earlier and the numerous pauses he took to collect himself did not go unnoticed.

"Do you know who took her?" Rosalee spoke up.

Alexander nodded, taking out the letter that had been left for him to find. "It's marked with her blood."

The Fuchsbau read the letter solemnly, and Monroe glanced at Alexander as he crossed the room to read over her shoulder. "She's pregnant?"

"Due any day now." Alexander looked at Nick. "I cannot go to the Council. To do so would bring more threats to her and our child. I need your help to get them back. There is no one else."

Rosalee looked at Monroe who frowned as he finished reading the letter and the Blutbad looked at Nick who knew from just one look that they needed to find you.

"Alright. We'll do it." Nick agreed.

The house you had been brought to was falling apart. Some of the windows were broken and the doors were rotting. The last thing you knew was a hand grabbing you from behind, and a cloth over your mouth. The next thing you knew were tied up in a dimly lit basement that made your skin crawl. You struggled against the rope, wincing when the wooden pillar dug into your back. You looked at your stomach, feeling tears pricking your eyes, wondering where your husband was and if he was alright. You knew he must've noticed you were missing by now, and knew he would be on his way to save you.

"Don't worry, little cub." You whispered, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Daddy will be here soon."

All you wanted to do was place a comforting hand on your stomach to feel the kicks but with your hands bound behind your back you couldn't move, and it was enough to break your resolve. You held your breath, silencing your weeps, when you felt the cramps begin. A short while later you heard a loud noise from upstairs, feeling the ceiling shake with each hit the floor took. You flinched when you heard several gunshots, and screamed when a body fell down the staircase, landing near your feet.

A woged Monroe ran down the stairs as the Wesen got to his feet and you closed your eyes as the two men fought, turning your head away when the Blutbad approached you.

Monroe shifted back, holding his hands up, "I'm not going to hurt you."

You turned your head when you heard his voice. "Monroe?"

"Alexander is upstairs." He explained, untying your wrists.

"Monroe -"

He helped you stand, "Rosalee is upstairs too. And Nick. He's a Grimm. Did you know about that?"

You nodded, "Yes, but Monroe -" You clutched his arm when you felt your water break and his eyes widened when he saw it. "I'm in labor."

"Uh -" The Blutbad's panicked eyes glanced around. "Now?"

"I can't control it!"

"Can you walk?"

You shook your head, "What are we going to do?"

His panic increased when he saw your tears, "Hey, hey, just stay right here. Do not move. I'll be right back."

You nodded, trying to focus on your breathing as the Blutbad rushed upstairs. You rested a hand on the wooden pillar, another on your back as you breathe as you were taught in your parenting classes. You heard gunshots and hurried footsteps coming toward you. You sighed in relief when you saw Rosalee and Monroe and the Fuchsbau guided you to the floor. "Monroe, go upstairs."

The Blutbad nodded, "Upstairs. Got it."

You watched him rush to help Nick and Alexander defeat the others before looking at Rosalee. "Is he okay?"

She sent you a smile as she nodded. "He's fine. He's worried about you both. You know, I wondered why you stopped coming into my shop. I would've stopped by if I knew where you lived."

"I didn't want anyone to know about the baby." You exhaled through your teeth and looked at the ceiling when the house fell silent.

The door burst open minutes later and you sighed in relief when you saw Alexander rushing towards you. "Alex!"

He took your hand and you squeezed tightly when you felt another contraction. "I'm here. I'm here." He looked at the rope burns on your wrists with a frown before looking at Rosalee. "How far along is she?"

"She needs to push." The Fuchsbau explained.

Alexander shook his head, "Not here."

"I can't get upstairs." You chimed in.

Alexander stood up, scooping you into his arms, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. "Just hold on."

Rosalee followed after the Pflichttreue when he headed upstairs. You tightened your hold on him with each contraction and Monroe and Nick followed as he carried you outside.

"Put her in my car! I'll use the sirens!" Nick called.

"Open the door! Get the door!" Rosalee shouted, and Monroe quickly opened the car door and Alexander placed you inside the passenger seat.

You groaned as you held your stomach, and he woged, shaking his head to shift back as he pushed down his panic and reclined the seat to try and make you more comfortable. You looked at your husband as he held onto the door and he sent what he hoped was a reassuring smile before closing it.

Alexander got behind the driver's seat and the Grimm was stunned when he stole his car. Monroe caught the keys Alexander tossed out of the window and the trio quickly got into his car and followed behind as he raced towards the hospital, navigating the streets with ease with the sirens blaring. Alexander looked over at you when you held onto the handle above the door.

"I need to push before I get too tired."

Alexander shook his head, "Not yet."

"Alex -"

"We'll make it." He reached over and took your hand, "I promise."

He reduced a forty-minute drive to twenty and you held onto his arm as you entered the hospital. Nurses quickly brought a wheelchair and Alexander followed when they led you to a room.

After a grueling two hours, your son was born and you stared down at the hybrid as he slept, looking at your husband as he stood outside talking to a nurse. She nodded at something he said before walking away and you smiled when he entered the room, approaching the bed.

"They are downstairs. The Fuchsbau refused to leave. I told the nurse to send them up." He explained quietly, looking down at the sleeping newborn in your arms.

You nodded, thanking him with a smile. A few minutes later, the trio walked down the hallway towards your room and saw Alexander sitting next to you, smiling as he gazed down at your son with a smile, glancing at you with adoration.

"Is anyone else finding this weird to watch?" Monroe asked.

"Uh-huh." Nick agreed with a nod. "I can't believe he kept it a secret for two years."

Alexander stood up, taking your newborn to place him in the crib by your bed and turning to tuck the blankets beneath your chin as you lay down. You said something that made him nod and he kissed your forehead. You reached out to touch his bruising cheek and he sent you a smile before he noticed the trio watching. He stepped out of the room, putting his hands in his jacket as approached them.

"How is she?" Rosalee asked.

Alexander sent the Fuchsbau a small smile, seeing the sincere concern in her eyes. "She will be fine. She is understandably exhausted."

"And the baby?"

"A healthy boy."

"Can I..." Rosalee glanced at your room and Alexander nodded. She smiled as she walked toward your room and the Pflichttreue looked at the Grimm and the Blutbad.

"I want to thank you for your help tonight. You saved my family."

"Don't worry, we won't tell anyone," Monroe told him, earning a nod.

"Thank you." Alexander looked over his shoulder at where you were sleeping and Rosalee was smiling down at your newborn. "But that won't be necessary." He met the curious gaze of the Grimm, "I've realized that the more I try to hide them, the more they will become a target. It's time I integrated them into the Wesen world. Remove her fears."

Rosalee walked out of the room, "He's beautiful." She cooed and Monroe smiled as she joined his side.

Alexander sent the Fuchsbau a small smile, "Thank you for your help tonight."

The Pflichttreue left the trio in the hallway, approaching your bed when he noticed you stir in your sleep. You met his gaze when your eyes opened and sent your husband a smile. You sat up, looking at your newborn who stretched in his sleep, woging briefly, and you placed your hands on his torso, leaning into him as you smiled.

"He's perfect, isn't he?"

"Yes, he is." Alexander kissed your head, smiling at your son as he slept peacefully. He looked down at you, pulling away slightly. "I'm sorry. I should've been there."

You took his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "You found us. We're here because of you. I know it wasn't easy reaching out to them for help."

"Actually," He took a seat beside you, placing his arm around you, "It was an easy decision given what was at stake." He looked over at your son, "While you were gone, I believe I found a way to make sure this won't happen again - ensure both of your safety."

You looked at him in surprise, "You want to tell the Council?"

Alexander nodded, "You will always be a target because of who I am. What I do. They can offer extra protection if I break the news correctly."

You looked away, considering his idea for a moment. "We could become a part of the community or they could shun us."

Alexander shook his head, "There are many hybrids." He nodded to your son, "A Pflichttreue's strongest loyalties are with our kind. He will be protected. As will you."

You turned your head, meeting his gaze, "You've really thought this through?" He nodded and you looked at your son when he yawned in his sleep and smiled softly. "Okay." You looked at your husband, squeezing his hand. "But I have an idea of my own."

Alexander immediately nodded, agreeing without hearing it. Your smile grew, knowing he would love it. "I want to live close to your family. I agree that he needs to be around his kind, but I want him to learn from his family."

Alexander smiled, and brushed his nose against yours, resting his forehead against yours. "I love you."

"I love you too." You wrapped your arms around his neck and titled your chin to kiss him tenderly.

Alexander placed a hand on your cheek as he deepened the kiss and you smiled when you heard your son starting to cry. You patted his chest when he pulled away. "I can see the future clearly now." He jested as he walked over to pick up your son who calmed in his arms at the sound of his father's voice. "I will give you anything you wish, but your mother is mine."

"Alex!" You scolded with a giggle.

"We may share her attention occasionally. But one day you will meet a woman almost as great as she is, and you will understand."

You shook your head at your husband who smiled at your newborn who blinked up at him before yawning. Alexander took a seat beside you as your newborn fell asleep against his chest and you rested your chin on his shoulder. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

Alexander tilted his head as he met your gaze.

"Sharing."

His response was immediate. "No."

You rested your head on his shoulder, trying to quieten your laughter to avoid disturbing the newborn. Alexander looked at you with a smile.

After your discharge from the hospital a few days later, Alexander prepared to approach the Council while you waited anxiously at home. He knew the cloak and dagger surrounding your relationship would be held against him, but he appealed to the few he knew had family dating humans, using his inside knowledge of those diverting from the Council's aims as he did and the Council agreed to place you and your son under the same protection their families had. Alexander knew it would take a while to earn the trust of De Groot again, but he knew that when you moved to England, there was no safer place than surrounded by his family - a family that adored you from the moment you met.

#alexander #alexander x reader #grimm

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jotun-philosopher · 3 months ago

Text

Crowley: Dungeons & Dragons AU

I've been on a bit of a D&D jag recently -- a couple of 50th anniversary adventure books caught my imagination -- so I went back to this little post and decided to expand on it with in-universe character bios and statblocks for the Ineffable Husbands!

I can't safely assume that everyone who reads this post will be familiar with D&D terms, so I'll be including a lot of inline links -- let me know in the notes if there's anything I've missed on that front. For the links to 5e.tools, there are tabs for Traits/Stat Block, Info and so on at the top of each information pane on the right-hand side of the screen. The tables on the left-hand side of the screen can be hidden by clicking on the 'Hide' tab.

Aziraphale bio/statblock here -- the bios are intended to be read more-or-less side-by-side. The whole thing is also on my AO3 here

cw: child abuse, physical and psychological (mostly implied, some effects shown or discussed), cults, violence, trauma

*********

With their lightly curled and fiercely red hair tumbling past their shoulders, stylish leather attire, five-foot-long prehensile tail, glowing yellow-gold eyes without sclerae or pupils, and six feet of willowy height enhanced by long, wavy horns, Crowley might not initially strike an uninformed observer as being a kindly, artistic soul who enjoys gardening and snuggling with their true love on rainy days. They are devoted to their aasimar husband, Aziraphale, and fiercely protective of their peaceful domestic existence.

This peace was hard-won after a long journey. For Crowley, that journey started in the village in which they were born. Their infernal heritage as a tiefling was obvious from the start, so much so that from their earliest years they were reviled as a bad omen and an agent of the Nine Hells -- the latter most especially, because of their constant questioning of everything they didn't understand.

Not long after their seventh birthday (not that anyone really bothered to mark the occasion), Crowley was targeted by a greedy, power-hungry cabal in the village who wished to treat with Asmodeus, ruler of Nessus and Overlord of the Nine Hells, for power and prestige; their tiefling bloodline had been determined in the interim to ultimately stem from Asmodeus, so Crowley was deemed a suitable sacrifice. Unfortunately -- for the cabal -- some blunder or lack of power in the summoning ritual meant that instead of the greatest of archdevils, the entity called up was a pit fiend who declared that it didn't care for 'mewling brats' (Crowley was having a very understandable seven-year-old reaction to the whole business) and proceeded to violently slaughter all of the adults in the room. Being small and nimble, Crowley was able to escape unnoticed in the confusion.

With the last of their innocence crumbling into ruins within them, Crowley gathered some food and fled into the wilderness. They drifted from place to place, trying to avoid undue notice. When Crowley did show themself, in an attempt to purchase supplies or secure accommodation, a widespread prejudice against tieflings made things complicated at best, forcing them to learn to talk their way out of trouble or be so stealthy as to attract no attention at all (no small challenge, given their horns and tail!). On some mercifully rare occasions where these skills failed, Crowley found themself mistaken for a cambion and treated with commensurate hostility.

And so things went on, with Crowley wandering in aimless solitude across the continent, scraping a meagre living from infiltration, investigation and petty thievery, and using a shell of biting sarcasm to protect the soft heart they insisted they didn't have. They found themself in a town in the easternmost part of the continent shortly after they came of age, seeking nothing more than their next meal but finding some disturbing rumours about a travelling cult that had encamped near the town.

Over a bowl of fair-to-middling stew, Crowley wheedled out of the tavern's staff the information that the cult had a case of self-righteousness that was bizarre even by the standards of apocalypse cults, that a tiefling family in town had come into some ill-defined conflict with them and thus been marked for death, and that they had some sort of terrifying celestial figurehead/enforcer who would probably be tasked with the assassination. Crowley tried to hide their deeply instinctive, 'Nope. Not on my watch,' reaction under a veneer of, 'Huh, that's interesting,' and almost succeeded.

When the moon was hanging over the mountains like a dirty toenail clipping, Crowley hurried to the tiefling family's home, grumbling about stupid empathy making things stupidly complicated... Composing themselves, they knocked on the door, did the fastest talking of their life to convince the patriarch of their good intentions, and kept watch while the family packed supplies and prepared to flee. They'd all convened in the main room when Crowley, hearing a slight footstep outside, gestured for silence. The family retreated to a corner while Crowley took up a position beside the door, which began to creep open.

Moving with lightning speed, Crowley snatched the intruder's sword from its sheath and hurled it across the room while slamming its owner against the wall -- then was pulled up short. The cult's supposed 'terrifying celestial champion' turned out to be a scrawny aasimar barely older than them, who from the look in his eyes seemed to be under at least one mind-control spell of vicious power. Crowley's heart squeezed with compassion, even as something deep in their soul said, 'Yes. This one.'

Crowley tore their gaze (with some difficulty) away from the tormented look in those eyes -- a deep, rich brown peppered with flecks of silver -- and started throwing out questions worded with immense care, probing the edges of whatever geas had been laid upon the aasimar. Once satisfied that they'd worked out the shape of it, Crowley deployed their most silver-tongued persuasion, intending merely to convince this obviously enslaved enforcer to look the other way; even they were surprised when the aasimar actively helped get the tiefling family to the edge of town!

The family were just as flummoxed, and begged Crowley to say who they were.

"No-one of consequence."

"But we must know! We must properly thank..."

"Get used to disappointment. Now for...someone's...sake go! Get going! GO!"

Crowley watched the family until they'd disappeared into the darkness, then turned to their new...acquaintance? Friend? Acutely aware that geasa inflicted a horrible psychic backlash when disobeyed but unwilling to relinquish this troubled aasimar to the not-so-tender mercies of the cult, Crowley took him back to the house to burn it in hopes it'd look convincing from the cult's encampment, then invited him for a stroll on a hillside overlooking the town. More careful, gentle questioning -- and how long had it been since Crowley'd been this inquisitive? -- turned up the aasimar's name (Aziraphale) and a series of increasingly horrific facts about life in the cult, delivered hesitantly but in as casual a tone as might be used for discussing mundanities like the weather. For Crowley, the most heartbreaking detail was that Aziraphale was entirely unfamiliar with the concept of hugs; once Crowley'd explained it, he tentatively accepted a demonstration and began to relax against their shoulder -- then abruptly stiffened, twisted and screamed.

The scream was choked off almost as soon as it had begun, and Aziraphale stumbled away, moving like an ill-maintained puppet, but surprisingly quickly for all that. Crowley trailed him back to the cult's camp, the need for stealth meaning they were barely able to keep up.

Crowley stopped bothering with stealth once they reached the camp -- they could hear Aziraphale screaming from somewhere close by, and an unimpeded retreat felt more important than getting in unnoticed. They deployed dagger and shortsword on any cultists who tried to waylay them, and even tapped some of the inherent infernal magic they usually tried to ignore to intimidate others from getting close. They found Aziraphale in the largest tent, being beaten by a senior-looking cultist while another muttered ominous-sounding incantations. Crowley knocked them both away from Aziraphale, picked him up and fled without paying much attention to anyone else.

Crowley fled through the town, trying not to panic at the amount of blood gushing from Aziraphale's nose and ears. They found a temple to a god of healing, which they'd noted in passing on arriving in the town, and nearly kicked down the door in their haste. The temple's senior cleric was annoyed at first, but took one look at the state Aziraphale was in and immediately led them to an examination room.

The good news, the cleric said, was that Aziraphale could be healed and freed from the various geasa fairly easily, with few lasting effects, using the right spells. The bad news was twofold: the spells had to be cast within the next couple of hours, and because the day had been a busy one, all of the temple's usual healers were out of magic until the next dawn. At that, an acolyte who'd been assisting the examination suggested asking 'Learned Penric' -- apparently a visitor -- despite the late hour, and fled the room gratefully (with a nervous glance at Crowley, whose horns and tail were scratching the ceiling and walls with every agitated oscillation) when their superior assented.

This 'Learned Penric', when he arrived, appeared to be no more than a delicate-featured, blond-queued stripling, but the quick indrawn breath, mutter of, "Bastard's teeth!" and immediate application of multiple enormously powerful healing and curse-removal spells bespoke many years of experience; Crowley was too worried about Aziraphale to give the matter much thought.

Once Penric had pronounced the healing complete, Crowley insisted on being the one to move Aziraphale to a side room to recover. While watching him sleep, they tried to work out just what it was about this sparkling-halo'd aasimar that had them tied in such unaccustomed knots. The best answer they could come up with was that unexpectedly finding something of a kindred spirit was just so new that it had thrown them wildly off-centre. The exertions of the night caught up with them at that point, and they dozed off in their chair while idly studying the curl of Aziraphale's hair.

Crowley jerked awake a little before dawn, consumed with a sudden fear that the cult might already have started looking for them. Quelling the initial spasm of panic, they checked on Aziraphale -- who was sleeping fairly peacefully -- and darted out of the room to find him some new clothes. They were on their way back with a simple set of clothes, a cloak and some food when Learned Penric intercepted them.

"Leaving already? I'd advise against it -- your..."

"That cult could be here any moment! I want to get Aziraphale as far away from here as possible."

They began arguing with increasing heat, Crowley wanting to put as much distance between Aziraphale and the cult as possible, pointing out that the temple's staff were outnumbered, out of magic and unlikely to have sufficient combat experience, and Penric countering that it wasn't certain that the cult would be able or willing to mount an attack, that (magic or no) the temple was solid and defensible, that Aziraphale likely needed more rest before being fit to travel, and that Crowley was being selfish, reckless and inconsistent, willing to take the temple's help with healing Aziraphale but not to trust them to keep him safe afterwards. Crowley had no answer to that, but covered it by shouldering open the door to Aziraphale's room, helping him into the clothes they'd gathered, gently concealing his distinctive halo under the hood of the cloak, and hurrying him out of the temple's rear door just as dawn was breaking.

Hand-in-hand, they merged discreetly into the foot traffic on the westward road, Crowley keeping watch for any sign of pursuit and Aziraphale seeming almost stunned by the newness of being among ordinary people. By night, they camped in the most concealed spots Crowley could find. By day, they pushed westward as hard as Crowley dared, some of Penric's points about Aziraphale's health having penetrated Crowley's instinctive paranoia.

Aziraphale was obviously struggling, not complaining about the privations of life on the road but sleeping restlessly and frequently waking up screaming. Crowley, at something of a loss for how to help, defaulted to 'lots of hugs, and do the opposite of what the cult probably did', which mainly meant speaking to him kindly, making sure he ate properly and seeking and properly considering his input on various matters. It certainly seemed to help; Aziraphale eventually admitted (though with a reluctance evidently born of past violent betrayal) that his bad dreams were as much down to some dream-guide trying to make contact as to his awful memories. Crowley recognised this admission for the confession of trust that it was, their throat clogging with compassionate sadness for Aziraphale's pain, and hugged him firmly.

Crowley was pleased to see parts of Aziraphale's true personality emerging as the nightmares began to abate. The first one to show up was his love of butterflies; his hand-flapping and full-body excited wiggling whenever one showed up were downright adorable! Next to appear was his ability to enjoy simply watching running water or dust dancing in a sunbeam for hours on end. Crowley didn't fully understand this, but with the possibility of active pursuit lessening by the day, they were happy enough to indulge their aasimar friend.

One of the most significant developments came when Crowley woke from a nightmare of their own (the incident with the pit fiend had never really stopped troubling them) to find Aziraphale cuddled up on their chest, holding a small twig imbued with light. Befuddled by, but joyful at, this expression of care and trust, Crowley realised that Aziraphale was beginning to explore his innate aasimar magic -- something worth encouraging! Especially as every success meant he gained that adorably excited smile and wiggling... His glee at managing to manifest fully functional wings of pure luminous energy was infectious, and Crowley cherished the memory of holding Aziraphale's hand as he took his first flight around a sunlit forest clearing, the two of them giggling with overwhelming joy, for a long time afterwards.

When they'd made it a third or so of the way across the continent, their funds began to run low. As the two of them sat at a corner table in a lakeside tavern one afternoon, counting up their remaining store of coin, Aziraphale suggested that they take adventuring work to fund their onward travel. Crowley was taken aback but listened to his reasoning.

"One, there are plenty of jobs available and they pay well. Two, if anyone is still following us, making our route more unpredictable will only help shake them off. Three, we both have powers and skills that are worth using, and I for one would prefer to use mine to preserve the world rather than bring about its dissolution."

Crowley realised with a pang of guilt that, for all they'd spent so much time admiring Aziraphale's appearance and mannerisms, they hadn't properly looked at him; they did so now. The motes of light forming his halo winked and twinkled and danced in the glow of the tavern's torches, framing a face no longer sunken with hunger but full and strong, with a fierce, steely intelligence in the eyes. He'd gained some healthy weight, too, his body still rather lean but far more solid than when they'd first met. With Learned Penric's words about recklessness and lack of trust ringing distantly in their ears, Crowley took a breath, properly considered Aziraphale's reasoning and found it extremely solid. Luckily, the armourer near the tavern was still open, so they were able to find Aziraphale a sword and some basic armour without too much trouble.

As it turned out, taking up adventuring was an excellent idea! Jobs were indeed plentiful and paid well, both in coin and in other ways. Aziraphale seemed to genuinely enjoy helping and protecting people, and was (between his own powers and frightening skill with a sword) very good at it. His joy at this rubbed off on Crowley, who gradually went from simply not wanting to disappoint his wonderful aasimar to genuinely wanting to do good for its own sake. They even started exploring their innate infernal magic, on the slowly growing idea that simply being infernal in origin didn't make it inherently evil or wrong or shameful; the first time they cast hellish rebuke while battling a monster was still pretty startling! Despite their lack of physical wings, Crowley found that the westward journey felt more and more like they were flying.

It wasn't all sunshine and roses, though. Aziraphale's dream guide -- some stuck-up deva based on Mount Celestia -- might have provided genuinely useful information once or twice, but from what little Aziraphale said about it, it seemed to mostly be concerned with ordering Aziraphale around in a way frighteningly similar to the cult, albeit reading off some immutable list of 'Rules For Goodness' rather than plotting an apocalypse. Crowley grew to loathe that deva, for all that they'd never met; its visits always left Aziraphale unaccountably upset for days afterwards, with his nightmares and intermittent memory issues (a legacy, Crowley guessed, of the cult's mind-control magic) flaring up.

Crowley was worrying quietly about this, one misty, dew-soaked morning, when they heard a rustling and the distinctive excited squeak of an aasimar who'd found a particularly interesting butterfly. They looked over to see Aziraphale delicately balancing a huge and magnificent blue butterfly on one hand while wearing a look of almost beatific revelation. Once the butterfly had fluttered off, Aziraphale bounded across their small campsite -- almost landing on Crowley's ribcage -- and started babbling excitedly. Once he'd calmed down a little, and Crowley had worked through the metaphors about butterfly wings and chrysalises, it emerged that he was seriously considering taking oath as a paladin and wanted Crowley's input.

Crowley knew that Aziraphale's love of helping and protecting people, and generally doing good, fitted well with the requirements of the paladin's path; they did worry, though, about the high standards required to maintain the oath and potential harshness of the consequences of breaking it, even by accident. They did trust Aziraphale's decision-making, though, and were willing to support him in whatever choice he made. That being established, the two of them wandered into the nearby town (which had a reasonably respectable library) to do a bit of research and take counsel with an experienced paladin who happened to be in the area.

The next day dawned bright and clear. Crowley accompanied Aziraphale to a small glade near the town, and there watched as Aziraphale formally swore the Oath of the Ancients before no specific god save for nature itself, and received a butterfly-shaped amulet to act as his holy symbol. Crowley's heart was near bursting with affection and pride for how far Aziraphale had come, as his aasimar stood holding the amulet, quivering with nervous excitement and hope while the dappled sunlight breaking through the trees made glorious sparks of the ever-drifting motes of his halo.

Becoming a paladin evidently suited Aziraphale -- he seemed happier than ever, and his physical health improved greatly; Crowley was glad they'd trusted his choice (the increasingly muscular view when they bathed together certainly didn't hurt!). Their combat styles meshed well, too, with Crowley making speedy yet devastating sneak attacks while Aziraphale drew opponents' attention and absorbed their strikes. Together they achieved a not-inconsiderable degree of note for their deeds; even so, Aziraphale's kindly manner and flappy-handed, wiggly-bodied love of butterflies tended to lead people to underestimate him. It was, for Crowley, a reliable source of amusement to see people who'd assumed he was some sort of really eccentric druid get very startled when the latest undead monstrosity showed up and he promptly smote its ruin upon the good green earth.

Crowley still wasn't completely immune to underestimating Aziraphale themself, though. When their travels had brought them within a couple of weeks' ride of the continent's western coast, they ran into a smarmy con artist whom Crowley had encountered once or twice in their petty-thievery days (and how long had they been thinking of that period as firmly in the past?). They were briefly worried about Aziraphale being taken in, but instead he seriously unnerved the con artist by heavily playing up his literal-mindedness and asking a lot of uncomfortably pointed questions (Crowley was evidently rubbing off on him...) while maintaining fixed and near-unblinking eye contact with a point slightly above the con artist's left ear. Crowley could barely keep themself from laughing out loud at the odious twerp's obvious discomfiture and hasty retreat.

The realisation that they'd properly left behind any need for criminal activity gave Crowley a new surge of hope for the future. They evidently weren't alone in thinking of what was yet to come; when they visited an up-and-coming mining town in early spring, Aziraphale ducked into a shop selling magic items, and was excited but mysterious about what he'd bought. He explained it when they had some privacy, showing Crowley a pair of platinum rings and stuttering his way through an explanation of the warding bond spell. Crowley recognised the strategic value of the spell immediately, but there seemed to be something else behind their aasimar's nerves...

"Just to be clear, angel, are you proposing?"

A flustered nod.

Crowley took a moment to process that, yes, this was absolutely real. "Then I accept!" They held out their left hand so Aziraphale could put the ring on their finger. He was still flustered, gabbling about how Crowley was good and kind and brilliant and wonderful and... Crowley reflected that this would be a terrible time for their habitual insistence on just being a big mean ol' tiefling (grrr!), however joking, and instead petted Aziraphale's hair fondly.

The engagement lasted for precisely the length of time it took them to find someone to officiate the ceremony. A couple of days later, early in the morning when the sky was clear and the crisp bite of early-spring frost was still in the air, they were formally wed in a grassy meadow nestled in the foothills of the mountain near the mining town. Crowley couldn't remember ever having been this deliriously happy -- nor could Aziraphale, judging by the sparkly-eyed smile he wore throughout.

After a honeymoon mostly spent thoroughly stress-testing the bed in their room at the tavern, it was back to the adventuring! Crowley's ear for deceit, eye for detail and general irrepressible inquisitiveness garnered many leads to areas of trouble and situations requiring resolution; Aziraphale's deva guide was exactly as helpful as it had always been (i.e. not very). His nightmares and memory troubles were flaring up worse than ever after its visits. Crowley managed to coax him into talking about it, and they eventually worked out that the deva was acting a lot like the old cult, which meant that the old mental wounds were being torn open every time it made contact. He did his best to tell the deva to back off -- Crowley made extra sure to convey their pride in him for that.

A couple of weeks later, the two of them were returning to their lodgings after assisting a young copper dragon who was being troubled in its lair by a roaming fire giant and its horde of hell hounds. Suddenly, the air twisted in front of them and a celestial figure appeared, the radiance of its milk-pale skin and the gold edging of its chalk-white wing feathers almost blinding. Crowley had a funny feeling that this was the obnoxious deva guide they so despised, a feeling confirmed when the figure greeted Aziraphale by name and immediately began berating him for being wayward and distracted by petty trivialities like seeing to the well-being of individuals rather than the Greater Good, and for being insufficiently lawful in his choice of paladin oath. Aziraphale made an obvious effort to bear this tirade with equanimity, but Crowley could see him starting to regress to the state of fear and confusion he'd been in when they'd first met him, so long ago. They reached for their dagger, intending to hurl it into the deva's throat to shut it up -- but then it insulted their marriage.

The deva barely got halfway through insulting Crowley's tiefling heritage in the crassest manner imaginable before Aziraphale punched it in the face hard enough to break its nose and send it flying a few feet backward. Crowley suddenly had to ignore their dagger and physically restrain Aziraphale from drawing his sword with killing intent (an oath violation for sure, in these circumstances). They succeeded, just; he had several inches of blade visible while he delivered an instruction to never contact him again, in any way or for any reason, in tones of the coldest, most steely anger Crowley had ever heard him use. The deva was intimidated enough to flee immediately, hopefully never to return. Crowley hugged Aziraphale while he gathered himself, made sure to pamper him extra hard when they got back to their lodgings, and gently nudged him to take counsel about his oath with a relevant local cleric.

With that resolved, things went on much as they had before. One particularly memorable job involved an opera house; a middleweight adventuring party had been hired to clear a mysterious infestation of undead out of the cellars, but having found and barely escaped a demilich in the deepest cellar, they'd decided they needed backup. Crowley found them to be a mostly sensible bunch, if their bard would just stop trying to bloody peacock around in front of the corps de ballet! They're not even paying attention, it's embarrassing... Once the warlock of the group had delivered the (seemingly routine) refocusing clip 'round the ear, they descended into the monster's lair. The fight was a difficult one, though Aziraphale's aura of courage and healing spells, and Crowley's lightning reflexes and unparalleled darkvision, helped the team claim victory. While the adventuring party had done the majority of the fighting, destroying the demilich's phylactery was another matter. The wizard of the group determined that it could only be destroyed by being struck with celestial radiance and infernal flame simultaneously, while fully immersed in holy water. A tall order indeed -- unless, of course, one has a powerful aasimar/tiefling duo on hand! Aziraphale and Crowley both kept a few flasks of holy water in stock as a matter of course, and a simultaneous casting of moonbeam and hellish rebuke took care of the rest. The opera house's managers were profusely grateful and generous with their rewards; these included free tickets for that night's performance, a comical piece about pirates who did very little piracy and were either excellent or terrible at stealth, so the day's work was capped off with a very enjoyable date night.

Not every memorable incident involved difficult battles. On one occasion, the duo encountered a rare black-and-tan pegasus being pestered by human bounty hunters; once the ruffians had been driven off, the pegasus took an immediate liking to Crowley, much to their bemusement. They called it Bentley -- the name felt right somehow -- and it happily acted as their steed. Odder still was the incident some time later, when a green-robed old man with three bright yellow canaries sitting on each shoulder and one clinging to his hat accosted them in the street. He said something about liking their faces and pressed a small golden canary figurine on Aziraphale, before disappearing into the city crowds with an enigmatic wink. Aziraphale gave the figurine to Crowley immediately, because it 'matched their pretty gold eyes'. Crowley slipped it into their belt pouch (there was definitely something unusual about it, meriting further investigation), smooched Aziraphale on the cheek and gently towed him off to the marketplace to get him something in return, eventually settling on a ring of the ram, which seemed to fit his solidity and force of will.

It was sometime after that, when things had gone comparatively quiet on the adventuring front, that the duo were asked to look into a cult trying to set up a suspicious ritual. They duly went to the place where the worrying activity had been reported -- and found Aziraphale's former cult. Crowley could have kicked themself for not doing enough damage to them while rescuing Aziraphale all those years ago, especially as they recognised the cult's brainwash-magic-happy sage (though they took some comfort in the fact that it had apparently taken this long for the cult to rebound). The sight was evidently affecting Aziraphale, too, and despite his clear efforts to stay quiet, the sage heard and approached their hiding spot with a few club-wielding acolytes in tow.

The sage launched into a profoundly patronising speech 'forgiving' Aziraphale for 'being led astray' and inviting him to return to the fold. The last few words seemed to be laced with subtle persuasive magic, and Crowley had a fleeting pang of dread that it'd actually work; then they looked again at the sage and realised that his spellwork was rather sloppy and complacent. Aziraphale's formidable reputation as a bloody-minded stubborn paladin who was nigh-immune to enchantment and illusion magic had obviously passed him by, as he seemed to be assuming that this experienced aasimar (with an indisputably legitimate grievance) was still the same easily controllable child as before. Crowley was shifting into position, ready to correct their earlier mistakes, when Aziraphale did something that he'd never done before in all the time Crowley had known him -- he swore.

"FUCK that!"

A longsword blow that bisected the sage at the waist, an invocation of warding bond, and the battle was on. The cultists stood little chance; Crowley reflected that they probably shouldn't be enjoying the cult's destruction this much, even if they had tortured their husband for years... Once the cult was well and truly demolished -- permanently -- the duo reported back to their informant and returned to their lodgings, whereupon Aziraphale had an emotional meltdown in Crowley's arms.

A scant few weeks after that, they were setting up camp for the night when, with a waft of sulphurous air, a pit fiend ambushed them. It seized and telepathically mocked Crowley for not initially remembering 'their deal' and gloated about how much more interesting a prize they were now, before flying off to the nearby forest, where a portal to Avernus, first and outermost of the Nine Hells, was waiting. Crowley started to panic a little, once they realised that this was the very pit fiend they'd almost been sacrificed to as a child.

The pit fiend took them to a cave in a range of barren hills in an isolated part of Avernus. It threw Crowley into a cage and chained their wrists to the uppermost bars, before wrapping its wings around itself and flopping down next to a small heap of treasure (evidently stolen from luckless travellers) and thanking a bearded devil lurking in the shadows for their accurate information. Something about the lesser fiend seemed familiar to Crowley...

Affecting a lackadaisical manner, Crowley prodded the bearded devil with questions until it confirmed their suspicion that it used to be the sage of the old cult, having made a posthumous bargain for power in exchange for information about powerful souls to corrupt. The pit fiend was intelligent enough, at least, to realise that blabbing one's plans to a captive, however seemingly helpless, might not be the best idea, and tried to shut the bearded devil up. However, Crowley was able to play on the pit fiend's ego enough to persuade it to start bragging about its own scheme to usurp power in Avernus by corrupting powerful souls to its control -- Aziraphale and Crowley being particularly juicy targets. All the while, Crowley was subtly picking the locks on their chains, using the narrow tip of their prehensile tail.

Oddly enough, Crowley wasn't all that scared. They knew, so deep in their bones that it would be hard to articulate, that Aziraphale would come to their rescue and that they'd destroy the pit fiend and its loathsome scheme together, as they had so many other evil plans in the past. They also realised that even if they did escape from their chains now, getting out of the cave unharmed would be a very tall order, and running off into the wastelands of Avernus would only make it harder for Aziraphale to track them down; they therefore discreetly worked at their chains to the point where they could slip out of them relatively easily without giving this fact away to their captors.

Crowley's trust and faith were rewarded almost immediately, when a familiar column of silvery light caught the bearded devil in the back and engulfed it in ghostly flames of uncanny radiance, reducing it to nothingness in less than fifteen seconds. Aziraphale advanced into the cave, gesturing the moonbeam onto the pit fiend with his sword, his shield hanging on his left forearm to allow that hand to touch his butterfly amulet/spellcasting focus, a look of steely determination and controlled fury in his eyes. Crowley knew the spell needed the caster to concentrate on maintaining it, so they exchanged the briefest of acknowledging eye contact with him before working away at their bindings in earnest.

The chains fell away, and Crowley turned their attention to breaking out of the cage. The iron bars were sturdy and resisted their efforts to pull them apart, but Crowley gained the extra strength necessary to break them when the pit fiend lunged out of the shaft of moonbeam and struck Aziraphale with its tail, shattering his concentration on the spell and sending him reeling across the cave. Feeling the familiar flare of warding bond activating, Crowley shouted insults, hurled pieces of the cage and generally tried to distract the pit fiend while Aziraphale got to his feet and invoked his radiant aasimar wings. A few more seconds bought, and a shift in his posture told Crowley that he'd also assumed the leonine mane of shimmering butterfly wings that signified the strongest magics granted by his paladin oath.

He charged forward and attacked, drawing the pit fiend's attention back to himself while Crowley landed their signature sneak attacks with dual-wielded shortswords. Their well-honed co-operative combat, with spell and blade in fluid accord, certainly caused the pit fiend grief, though less than Crowley would have liked. It got a few lucky hits in with fireball, claw, mace and tail, and forced them to keep their distance with a well-timed wall of fire just as Aziraphale's transformations wore off.

The pit fiend seized its chance then, biting down on Crowley's arm with its venom-dripping fangs and tossing them into Aziraphale, who was beginning to wilt inside his plate armour from the heat of the fiend's fires. Crowley was dimly aware of Aziraphale dragging them out of range of the heat of the fire while the pit fiend gloated and its venom burned through their veins.

As the fiend's wall of fire died down, Crowley dimly registered Aziraphale passing a glowing hand over the bite wound on their arm. The effects of the pit fiend's venom faded away, and Crowley was able to gather enough of their wits that they remembered the mysterious canary figurine that they'd never quite got round to investigating. They fumbled it out of their belt pouch, glanced at the words carved on the base and hurled it at the pit fiend's feet while chanting what they really hoped was the right incantation. The pit fiend's mocking laughter was abruptly cut off when the tiny figurine transformed into an adult gold dragon!

Crowley gasped out a command to the dragon -- "Keep it busy!" -- which the dragon interpreted as an instruction to invoke its fear-inducing aura and go to town with its claws and bite while the pit fiend cowered against the cave wall. Aziraphale, as was usual, made sure to use the opportunity to heal Crowley up and repair their armour before seeing to his own needs. This done, the duo readied themselves to re-enter the fray. Although the effects of its aura were beginning to wear off, the gold dragon had done a great deal of damage to the pit fiend by this time; Aziraphale added to it by muttering divine incantations (lacking the energy for stronger magic by this time) and invoking his ring of the ram. He gave Crowley the final blow, though, and as they delivered the coup de grace something unknotted deep inside them.

With the pit fiend vanquished, the duo exchanged bows with the gold dragon before it turned itself back into the canary figurine. Crowley shakily picked it up and out it away while explaining to Aziraphale (who was taking a moment to catch his breath) the background information he might've missed.

They were both too exhausted to want to risk leaving Avernus the long way, or lingering in the cave too long, so once they'd gathered themselves, the duo poked around the pit fiend's small heap of stolen treasure. A glint caught Crowley's eye, which turned out to be a silver ring of deceptively simple design, inlaid with three green gemstones. Aziraphale immediately noted the strong magic in the one gemstone that still burned with its own internal fire, and with that clue Crowley identified the item as a ring of three wishes, with two-thirds of its charges expended. They were swaying on their feet by this time (and in any case were no great shakes at spellcasting), so Aziraphale hooked an arm round their waist, held up the ring and used its one remaining charge to replicate the plane shift spell, which deposited them back at their campsite scarcely half a day after they'd left. Bentley the pegasus was there, whickering nervously and nuzzling their faces, along with what seemed to be a hastily-assembled rescue party, who appeared relieved to not have to contend with the Nine Hells after all.

Neither Crowley nor Aziraphale had ever been particularly inclined to have faith in the gods, but the zenith of their adventuring career often involved performing commissions for them, with commensurate boons (up to and including immortality!) as rewards. It was during the course of one of these missions that something happened which Crowley had long dreaded -- Aziraphale's memory issues flared up badly in the middle of combat. Crowley was able to protect him until he recovered, and they finished the mission safely, but Aziraphale was badly rattled. Back in their lodgings, he raised for the first time the possibility of retirement. Crowley was just as shaken by the incident, and agreed that it would be unwise to risk another memory glitch happening in so dangerous a situation.

With their considerable accumulated wealth, Aziraphale bought property in an out-of-the-way town, with a large garden for Crowley to tend, a good stable for Bentley and plenty of space for it to run around. Aziraphale opted to open a bookshop where adventurers might find advice and information on any number of matters, but drew up some extremely convoluted opening hours in line with his impish sense of humour and long-standing distaste for directionless interactions with people other than Crowley (who found the whole thing rather amusing). They gradually settled into a quieter rhythm of life, with Crowley working wonders in the garden and unabashedly ogling Aziraphale while he practised sword drills to stay in shape, in lieu of opening the shop.

And so they live still. Crowley is much less inclined, these days, to hide their kind, generous nature, and will happily share produce from their garden with local businesses or friendly adventurers. They are intensely protective of their husband and their hard-won peaceful domesticity, though, so anyone who is terminally foolish enough to threaten them, by theft, violence or otherwise, will regret it very quickly.

---

Crowley

Medium Humanoid (Tiefling (Asmodeus), 20th level Inquisitive Rogue), Chaotic Good

Age: Unknown (immortal) Height: 6'1'' Weight: 120lb

Armour Class 21 (glamoured studded leather, Dual Wielder feat) Hit Points 170 (20d8+80) Speed 30ft

STR 22 (+6) DEX 24 (+7) CON 18 (+4) INT 24 (+7) WIS 23 (+6) CHA 25 (+7)

Saving Throws Strength (+12), Dexterity (+20), Intelligence (+19), Wisdom (+18), Charisma (+19)

Skills Athletics (+12), Acrobatics (+19), Stealth (+19), Arcana (+13), History (+13), Investigation (+19), Insight (+18), Perception (+18), Survival (+18), Deception (+19), Intimidation (+19), Persuasion (+19)

Damage Resistances fire, cold, poison, lightning

Damage Immunities psychic

Condition Immunities charmed, frightened, possessed, paralysed

Senses darkvision 60ft, passive Perception (33), passive Investigation (34)

Languages all

Challenge 20 (25,000 XP) Proficiency Bonus +6

Traits

Special Equipment Crowley dual-wields magic shortswords. One is an Ascendant Dragon's Wrath Shortsword (hereafter ADWS), which steeped in an Ancient Blue Dragon's hoard and as such inflicts an extra 3d6 lightning damage on a successful strike (included in the combat statistics); the other is a Crystal Shortsword, which inflicts an extra 1d8 radiant damage on a successful strike (included in the combat statistics). Crowley also wears a platinum ring for use with the warding bond spell on the ring finger of their left hand; Aziraphale wears the other such ring.

Magic Resistance Crowley has advantage on saving throws against spells and other magical effects.

Sneak Attack One per turn, Crowley can inflict an extra 10d6 (or 13d6 with Insightful Fighting, see below) piercing damage on one attack that is made either with advantage or on an enemy that is within 5 feet of Aziraphale (provided that he isn't incapacitated).

Insightful Fighting As a bonus action, Crowley can make a Wisdom (Insight) check against a creature they can see that isn't incapacitated, contested by the target's Charisma (Deception) check. On a success, for the next minute, Crowley can use their Sneak Attack against that target only without needing advantage on the attack roll, and inflicts an extra 3d6 damage with each successful Sneak Attack.

Cunning Action Crowley can use a bonus action to take the Dash, Disengage or Hide actions.

Uncanny Dodge Crowley can use their reaction to halve the damage taken when an attack hits them.

Evasion When subjected to an effect that allows them to make a Dexterity saving throw to only take half damage, Crowley instead takes no damage on a success, and only half damage on a failure.

Blindsense If Crowley is not deafened, they are aware of the locations of any hidden or invisible creature within 10 feet of them.

Elusive No attack roll has advantage against Crowley if they aren't incapacitated.

Legendary Resistance (4/day) If Crowley fails on a saving throw, they can choose to succeed instead.

Innate Spellcasting Crowley's spellcasting ability is Charisma (spell save DC 21). They can innately cast the following spells, requiring no material components:

At will: thaumaturgy

1/day each: hellish rebuke (2nd level), darkness

Actions

Two-Weapon Fighting One melee attack with each weapon (one as an action, one as a bonus action): +13 (Crystal Shortsword)/+16 (ADWS) to hit, reach 5ft, one target. Hit: 1d6 + 16 piercing damage plus 3d6 lightning damage (ADWS), 1d6 + 13 piercing damage plus 1d8 radiant damage (Crystal Shortsword).

Melee Strike Crowley makes one attack with one weapon (see above).

Destructive Lightning (1/day) As an action, Crowley can unleash destructive energy from their ADWS in a 60ft cone. Each creature in that cone must make a DC 18 Dexterity saving throw, taking 12d6 lightning damage on a failed save, or half as much damage on a successful one.

Reaction

Protective If an enemy damages Aziraphale or tries to cast enchantment or illusion magic on him, Crowley moves to within 5ft of that enemy and makes one Two-Weapon Fighting attack.

---

Notes:

I wrote this bio and Aziraphale's with the Forgotten Realms setting in mind, since I'm most familiar with that world; translating things to another part of the D&D multiverse shouldn't be too much of a problem

As with Azzy's bio and stats, I was leaning on the 2014 editions of the Player's Handbook, Monster Manual and Dungeon Master's Guide for this fic and statblock

With Aziraphale's bio, I was deliberately trying to emulate the style of an officially published D&D NPC bio. For this one, I just went 'f--- it, I'mma go expansive' :D

The 'Learned Penric' character here is from World of the Five Gods by Lois McMaster Bujold -- I decided to slip him in when I realised how easy it'd be to fit the Quintarian pantheon into a D&D setting! I'd imagine that, in D&D terms, Penric'd be something along the lines of a Wild Magic sorcerer/Life Domain cleric multiclass, with maybe a sprinkling of warlock, given the way his powers canonically work... I have a spoiler-free summary of the WotFG series on tumblr and AO3 if you want to know more!

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stardust-in-my-mind-blog · 18 days ago

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fourth grade tragedy

when my grandmother died at 99

I found out in febuary of this year

I was trying to learn how to build a travel agent job

and start my own kind of business

I was so excited but then it happened

and I lost my ability to keep building

I couldn't even get back on the website

my mother found a way to get a hold of me

I have her blocked on everything

I even had to give up my grandmother

who was an innocent bystander

but nonetheless the most enabling woman

on the planet and her devotion was to her daughter

in a somewhat unhealthy fashion

but that's a cycle I walked away from long ago

but the guilt never really left me

and my mother told me by saying

that my grandmother died calling out my name

and the exile in me had a lot of fun with that

because it was absolutely my mother's style

just unnecessarily cruel and nasty

and it takes the least amount of intelligence

but it reminds me of a time when I was in third grade

and likely had just seen matilda

because in my mind there was a teacher

that was like my my miss honey

mrs. krugler I believe and isn't it funny

that my oldest son had a teacher named kregler

two times and my daughter has her for math now

mrs. krugler saw a confused and lonely little girl

who described the truth of her home life

and knew she couldn't change it

but she could help by loving her

and she did so very very well

my third grade teacher mrs. matix was a very

beautiful and elegant old bitch

scolding me for reading my books under my desk

during math as if it didn't cause her

physical pain to be bored

I was to have mrs. krugler for fourth grade

I remember being so excited because

I'd get to spend the whole day with her

not just in the hallways in between classes

or at recess and she always made me think

about things in new ways and I could imagine

everything and all of it and it didn't matter

if it ended up different because it'd be fine

because we always had a laughing time

and I can't remember the fight or what caused it

with my mother I only knew that she'd get mad

and I needed to make her madder to focus on me

I could always take her pain as long as she

didn't go after my brothers and so I must have

told her something about wishing she was more

like mrs. krugler because that would do it

enmeshment trauma has one rule and that is

to only love the person who hates you the most

and tell everyone they treat you the best

my mother was fucking gleeful the day

she came and told me mrs. krugler

died of a brain aneurysm in her car

died alone in her garage as she described it

and must have implied something

along the lines of how me telling lies

(that were the truth by the way)

about people and how it likely

got my favorite person in the world killed

because that was her fucking style

the shit she would say

and so I take that little girl by the hand

and I draw her close and I pick her up

and I give my mother the middle finger

and she looks at my red hair so fucking confused

likely tells me she hates it like she did my tattoo

and I tell her if she comes anywhere near us

I'll show her everything she made me feel

and finally my eyes are meaner than hers now

and that woman who seemed so big

likely looks as small as my grandmother did

dying in that bed calling out my name

a sacrifice I made to get to the highest version

of myself that she made her purpose to get in the way

and I never have to be afraid of her again

of the truth of my experience

and telling people with that same stupid cruelty

that I see them and their ugly soul

and it won't fucking touch me or mine

and that's enough it's all enough

because today my little baby boy

I mean big kid Theo sang me a song

that I got to sing with him

with the simple lyrics of

I know why this world doesn't like me I know why this world isn't real

and that's all it was

but he has something I've never had

this way to finding the right melody

even now I can't remember it

but he'll show me again

and we'll sing it again

and every fucking thing I had to go through

was worth that tiny little moment

and like I told him today

with my hand on his knee

when he couldn't tell me one thing

he liked about his day

I told him when I was a kid like him

I fucking hated school too

and I hated having to listen to everyone

and I hated how everyone seemed to

misunderstand me even though

I swear I told the truth

I told that baby of mine that it does get better

and not right away and not anytime soon

but it will get better and someday

people are going to absolutely love his mind

and what he thinks and does with it

and not everyone can make up songs in their head

but he can and that makes him so special

just like the dancing he does and the fights

he still choreographs with four weapons on my bed

fighting all my pillows and letting himself conquer and

be defeated by whatever ghosts or demons he's fighting

maybe he'll get to spar with that old part of me

because she's with us now

safe and sound

because I became the mother

I never got to have

0 notes

cagemasterfantasy · 5 months ago

Text

The Shattered Obelisk Part 1 A new beginning

*Narrator voice from the Lord of the Rings* (please imagine this in your head) More than 500 hundred years clans of Dwarves and Gnomes made an agreement known as the Phandelver's Pact by which they would share a rich mine in wonderous cavern known as Wave Echo Cave. In addition to its mineral wealth the mine contained great magical power. Pokemon Hybrid spellcasters allied themselves with Dwarves and Gnomes to channel and bind that energy into a great forge called the Forge of Spells where magic items could be crafted. Times were good and the nearby town of Phandalin prospered as well. But disaster struck when bandits swept through the North and laid waste to all in their path. A powerful bandit force reinforced by evil mercenary wizards attacked Wave Echo Cave to seize its riches and magic treasures. Pokemon Hybrid wizards fought alongside their Dwarf and Gnome allies to defend the Forge of Spells and the ensuing spell battle destroyed much of the cavern. Few survived the cave ins and tremors and knowledge of the location of Wave Echo Cave was lost. For centuries rumors of buried riches have attracted treasure seekers and opportunists to the area around Phandalin but no one has located the lost mine. In recent years people resettled the area and Phandalin is now a rough and tumble forntier town. Recently a trio of Dwarves the Rockseeker brothers discovered the entrance to Wave Echo Cave and they intend to reopen the mines. Unfortunately for the Rockseekers they aren't the only ones interested in Wave Echo Cave. A mysterious villain known as the Spider controls a network of bandit gangs and Goblin bands in the area and his agents followed the Rockseekers to their prize. The Spider wants Wave Echo Cave for himself and he's taking steps to make sure no one else knows where it is.

*Gerald's voice* We have begun our adventuring career in the city of Neverwinter. A Dwarf named Gundren Rockseeker hired us to bring a wagonload of provisions to the rough and tumble settlement of Phandalin a couple of days travel south of the city. Gundren was clearly excited and more than a little secretive about his reasons for the trip saying that only he and his brothers had found "something big" and that he'd pay us ten gold pieces each for escorting his supplies safely to Barthen's Provisions a trading post in Me and my sister's hometown of Phandalin. Hen then set out ahead of us on his horse along with a Skuntank hybrid warrior named Sildar Hallwinter caliming he needed to arrive early to "take care of business". We've spent the last few days following the High Road south from Neverwinter and we've just recently veered east along Triboar Trail. We've had no trouble.......yet but we know this territory can be dangerous. Bandits and outlaws have been known to lurk along this road.

Jesse: Yo dude you ok? You've been staring out into the space for the past half hour.

Gerald looks around to see himself in a carriage. "Yeah I'm fine just preoccupied with thoughts"

Sasha: Well don't get preoccupied sugar we have just entered dangerous territory now and I reckon we're about 20 miles from Phandalin should be there in 5 hours now. Now where did I put that map?

Gerald: Didn't you put it in your back pocket?

Zoey is driving the carriage being pulled by Oxen. "Don't tell me you lost our map"

Mimi is looking around with a suspicious look behind her Rattata costume.

Zoey: I think Mimi might know where it is...

The storage of the carriage is a dozen sacks of flour, several casks of salted pork, 2 kegs of strong ale, Shovels, picks, and crowbars (about a dozen of each), and 5 lanterns with a small barrel of oil (about 50 flasks in volume) but yet I don't see the map

Gerald: Alirght Mimi I need you to be honest where did you put the map?

Mimi sighs and says "I put it near the lantern oil"

Zoey: YOU WHAT? OUT OF ALL THE PLACES YOU COULD HAVE PUT THEM YOU PUT THEM OVER IN THE LANTERN OIL?" Her Hattena hat that is part of her body stands straight up"

Mimi and Jesse notice something and both shout in unision "WATCH THE ROAD"

The carriage skirts to a halt. As soon as it does Gerald hops out and looks around. Arrows are strewn everywhere, Torn scraps of fabric are scattered everywhere. Gerald looks ahead at the horses and says. "Hey weren't these the Horses Gundren and Sildar were using?" Mimi chimes in. "Now that you mention it yes it does." Sasha: "You don't think something has happened to him now do you sugar?" Gerald blushes a bit being called sugar but continues and says in the Pokemon tongue (aka Latin). "I think so I'll get a closer look at the Horses see if something could maybe be used as a clue Zoey come over here and help me. Rest of you stay back" Zoey hops off her hat fluttering in the wind.

Zoey hears something moving from both sides and prepares one of her spells. "Be on your guard" Gerald pulls out his sword and his shield with a multicolored infinity sign (The symbol of Arceus) etched onto it. He approaches the horses and an arrow wizzes from the bush and hits Zoey right in the shoulder. Suddenly they hear "Êriş" (Attack in Goblin) from both sides and 2 Goblins emerge from the brush as combat begins.

Sasha Mimi and Jesse jump out from the carriage. Sasha stays behind and guards the Oxen while Jesse rushes straight towards one of the goblins and swings at one of them and hits it pretty hard in the head. Meanwhile Mimi is next and she rushes over to the Goblin that is fighting her big brother Gerald but unfortunately for her the Goblin sees her and orders the other Goblins to fire at her. 2 arrows land right in front of her as she rushes over to the brush on the right side (south side on the map) and sees a lone goblin on the side pointing its bow at her. Sasha uses this opputunity to rush over to defend Zoey. Zoey isn't having any of it and shouts "JUST WHAT IN THE NINE HELLS DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING" Sasha: "My teamates are important to me Honey Bunny." Zoey: "P-please don't call me that". Meanwhile a Goblin comes flying out of the brush and lands on the ground Mimi landing on it shortly afterward and plunges one of her daggers deep into its throat. It squrims around for a few seconds before going limp. Meanwhile Gerald is busy fighting the other Goblin that is still out in the open. Jesse goes running over to Gerald before he shouts "GO DEAL WITH THE ONE IN THE BRUSH" Points to the left (north side of the map) I CAN HANDLE THIS ONE. GO"

Gerald uses his shield and bashes the shield onto the Goblins head enough to not kill the Goblin but enough to knock it out. Jesse emerges 10 seconds later after hearing a splatter sound and his axe is covered in blood. Zoey finally gets up after being healed by Sasha "Everything's going to be alright pumpkin don't worry" Zoey: "Please stop calling me those names you're starting to get on my nerves" Mimi chuckles at Zoey as Gerald ties the unconsious Goblin up.

Gerald: "Hişyar be" (Wake up) Goblin: AHHHHH Ji kerema xwe min neêşîne (please don't hurt me) Gerald: Hingê hûn ê biaxivin (then you are going to talk) Goblin: Baş e tu dixwazî çi bizanibî? (Alright what do you want to know?) Gerald: Pêşî hûn dikarin Common biaxivin (Alright first do you speak Common) The Goblin nods Gerald: alright then a few questions this will determine what we do with you. Goblin: Please have mercy. Gerald: First off what is your name and uh why do you have one shoe? Rumshoe: My name is Rumshoe and I lost my shoe back at cave.

Sasha: Hey now did you mind telling me who your leader is now?" She holds her club in her hands like she's ready to use it. Rumshoe: Klarg. Klarg is leader. Klarg big fuzzy Goblin with long pointy ears. Leader of us Cragmaws is Grol who resides at Cragmaw castle.

Mimi: So" She holds her dagger to Rumshoe's throat" What did you do with our friend? A Skuntank Hybrid and a Dwarf. Should have been here hmmmm a few days ago" Gerald says sternly: Mimi" Rumshoe: Klarg received messenger Goblin from King Grol few days ago. Messenger say someone named "the Spider" was paying us to capture Dwarf named Gundern Rockseeker and send him and anything he was carrying to King Grol. Orders were followed. Dwarf captured alongside a map."

Gerald: What about our Skuntank friend Sildar?" Rumshoe: Skunk man is being held in "eating cave" About 15 Goblins currently dwell in the hideout. Er probably less now that you killed my buddies. I hated them anyway. Oh also some strange Goblins joined me in a similar ambush though.....not today." Jesse: Strange Goblins eh? What's so strange about a Goblin aside from.......everything?" Rumshoe: They had these weird skulls and glowing green energy surrounds their blades when they swing with them." Gerald: Sasha you've dealt with Goblins before are these kinds of Goblins normal" Sasha: "Not any that I know of Sugar" Gerald blushes a bit before saying "Well then I say bring him with us and he can lead the way back" Rumshoe: Oh thank you I always hated Klarg anyway never knowing how to keep his hands to himself" Mimi notices Gerald blushing and a creepy grin goes over her face beneath her Rattata costume as she realizes Gerald likes when Sasha calls him sugar.

End of part 1

#the shattered obelisk

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mygainyear2024 · 9 months ago

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Day 2 Lisbon to Portimão by train

Today I headed by train to Portimão, home for the next 5 weeks. Luckily the station wasn't too far from my hotel, but I left in plenty of time to navigate public transport in a foreign country. There was a bit of confusion amongst the tourists at the station about where to stand for our assigned carriages. An older gentleman tried to scam a few of us by suggesting he could assist! It was so obvious though, as he encouraged us to individually follow him away from the crowd and then offered to help with the suitcase in exchange for money. I saw him do this several times. Not sure if he got "lucky"! The trip was 4 hours with a change in Tunes to a very crowded local Algarve train. And it's only April! At the end of the first leg I got chatting to a Portugese woman who now lives in the UK, but has a second house in Coimbra. She was on her way to Faro to meet her husband for 2 days as he'd flown from Faro back to the UK for €13 each way, OMG, this continues to make me very envious of the very cheap travel on this side of the world! Anyway, Lourdes hurriedly gave me her phone number, trying hard to remember it, before I had to jump off the train. I'll see if she got it when I attempt to make contact in a few weeks when I'm in Coimbra.

I made contact with the Portimão apartment owner who offered to send an Uber and the driver also happened to be the woman who could let me into the apartment! The ride was cheaper than the online option anyway, of course I jumped at it. She did say Cátia would be driving a white Tesla and she is bold! Cátia was very cool, in her own way, with her Sinéad O'Connor hairstyle, matching ribbed cream outfit and portunglês (kind of the equivalent of Spanglish!). Cátia is a real estate agent as well as property manager, uber driver, mum to two children and three dogs and I forgot how many cats. Her husband is allergic to the animals LOL! She used to live in the apartment block where I'm staying but they decided to buy land near Silves and are saving to buy more properties so they are living in a caravan. I think I understood all this correctly. Cátia did say that the value of a now 2 bedroom apartment (the owner remodelled from 1 bedroom) she has for sale in Praia da Rocha, one block from the beach, has increased in value by €20,000 in one year. I think it's selling for €170,000. Tempted?

She was kind enough to show me the location of the local supermarket, Coviran (about the size of a small IGA) which is less than 5 minutes walk from me. I'm very happy with the apartment, even though the building looks like a social housing complex by Australian standards, but the style is not uncommon from what I can tell so far. After quickly unpacking, I got some essentials from the supermarket, including a bottle of 2017 Aragonez syrah from the southern Portugal Esporão Estate for €5.99. I'll try that later in the week. The prices are affordable.

I then decided to shake off all the sitting down and get my running gear on, not sure if I would actually run after the step count yesterday, but I did. And despite the pain in my legs, the experience was amazing. The scene was so typical of what I've seen in many movies when english speaking tourists have a summer getaway in Europe. I'll let the pictures speak for what I saw. I could have taken many more shots but conscious I wanted to run and there'd be plenty of time for walking and photos. There seems to be a big volleyball tournament at the beach but so far this popular tourist destination is not heaving with tourists....perfeita!

It's a little cooler down south, the heaters went on and so did the coat I borrowed from my friend Lesley.

A quick shower and a walk to my pre-booked dinner, via the Fork app, at Allgarbe. I noticed a larger supermarket on the way, which seemed to have a very busy cafe/eatery inside (I'll check this out tomorrow). I also noticed the blue carpet lining some streets, it's one way to deal with the slippery cobblestones (apparently laid to demonstrate Portugal's wealth!) When I walked into the restaurant there was a bellydancing show and the waiter asked if I'd like to sit so I could watch the show, which continued through dinner. The website does say the restaurant is a fusion of flavours and traditions, not sure I spotted much middle eastern influence on the menu. I saw a bellydancer at a restaurant in Lisbon, is this a thing? It may be the influence of being close to Morocco I'm not sure, or maybe it's a coincidence and just a mindless piece of information. It was hard to decide which fresh seafood to order, the waiter showed me three kinds of local options and I chose the bica which came grilled, with a really fresh salad and jack potatoes and a lovely rose recommended by the waiter. He was very happy to chat to me about the local wineries and recommended I visit the wine region near Coimbra (I've added this to my long list).

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preventivefire3340 · 1 year ago

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Enhancing Safety in Restaurants: The Importance of Fire Suppression Systems

Introduction

Imagine dining in your favorite restaurant, savoring a delicious meal with friends or family. Everything seems perfect until you notice a small fire outbreak in the kitchen. Panic sets in, and you realize how crucial it is for the restaurant to have a reliable fire suppression system in place. In this blog, we'll delve into the world of fire suppression system restaurant near me. We'll explore their significance, types, installation, maintenance, and answer some common questions about them. Let's start by understanding why fire suppression systems are an indispensable part of restaurant safety.

The Significance of Fire Suppression Systems in Restaurants

Protecting Lives: The safety of restaurant staff and patrons is of paramount importance. Fire suppression systems are designed to detect and extinguish fires swiftly, minimizing the risk of injury or loss of life.

Preserving Property: Restaurants often invest substantial resources in equipment, furniture, and decor. A fire can cause extensive damage, leading to financial losses and business interruptions. Fire suppression systems help safeguard these investments.

Maintaining Reputation: A fire incident can tarnish a restaurant's reputation. Word of mouth travels fast, and the perception of safety and hygiene is crucial in the food industry. A well-maintained fire suppression system can help maintain a positive image.

Compliance with Regulations: Many jurisdictions mandate the installation of fire suppression systems in commercial kitchens. Compliance with these regulations is not only essential for safety but also to avoid legal troubles.

Types of Fire Suppression Systems

There are several types of fire suppression systems used in restaurants, each tailored to specific needs and fire risks:

Wet Chemical Systems: These systems are designed for cooking areas and use a special liquid chemical to extinguish grease fires. They are effective at cooling and suppressing flames, preventing re-ignition.

Dry Chemical Systems: Suitable for a wide range of fires, including those involving flammable liquids and electrical equipment. Dry chemical systems release a fine powder to smother the fire.

Water Sprinkler Systems: These are common in many commercial buildings, including restaurants. They release water when a fire is detected, reducing the temperature and controlling the fire.

Clean Agent Systems: Utilize gases like carbon dioxide or halon to suppress fires. These systems are often used in areas where water could cause significant damage, such as computer server rooms.

Foam Systems: Effective for flammable liquid fires, foam systems discharge a foam concentrate to blanket the fire and prevent it from spreading.

Installation and Maintenance

Proper installation and regular maintenance are crucial to ensure the effectiveness of fire suppression systems. Here are some key considerations:

Professional Installation: Fire suppression systems should be installed by certified technicians who understand the specific requirements of restaurant kitchens.

Regular Inspections: Routine inspections are necessary to check for leaks, blockages, or other issues that may affect the system's functionality.

Timely Refills: Systems that use chemicals or gases require periodic refilling or replacement to ensure they are ready to respond to a fire.

Employee Training: Restaurant staff should be trained in using fire suppression systems and know how to respond in case of a fire emergency.

Common FAQs About Fire Suppression Systems

Do all restaurants need fire suppression systems?

A1: In many jurisdictions, fire suppression systems are required by law in commercial kitchens. Even where not mandated, they are highly recommended due to their life-saving and property-preserving benefits.

Are fire suppression systems expensive to install and maintain?

Installation costs can vary depending on the type and size of the system, but they are generally a wise investment. Maintenance costs are relatively moderate when compared to the potential losses from a fire incident.

How often should fire suppression systems be inspected and maintained?

It is recommended to have a professional inspection and maintenance service at least twice a year. However, the frequency may vary based on local regulations and system type.

Can fire suppression systems accidentally discharge?

Accidental discharges are rare but can happen due to equipment malfunction or human error. Regular maintenance and staff training help minimize the risk of accidental discharges.

Conclusion

Fire suppression systems are not just an expense for restaurants; they are an investment in safety, property protection, and reputation. These systems provide peace of mind to restaurant owners, staff, and patrons, ensuring that in the event of a fire, the response is swift and effective.

#fire suppression system restaurant near me

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hoboblaidd · 1 month ago

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Solas inclined his head in acknowledgement. "At your word." He waited patiently, busying himself with needling Blackwall about the Grey Wardens until Hulwen returned. A few miles was a short trip by any measure, so there was no need for excessive provisions. They had a good amount of daylight to spare. Just enough to keep away the cold and keep them focused for the next few hours.

He was happy to walk in companionable silence for a time. It had been ages since he'd been in these mountains, and they carried the mix of familiarity and bitterness of history. But he could appreciate their beauty now, nearly unchanged save for patterns of snowfall, and uttered a quiet, "It is remarkable." Even their footprints were wiped away by the ever-present wind this close to the summit. History may forget what was done here and throughout the ages of this world, but the mountains remained. Steadfast and uncaring for the small struggles of the people who were but specks on their gargantuan slopes.

"We're nearing the artifact," he said after about an hour of walking. He could feel it, tugging at his mind. Even without the Inquisition agents' directions, he could find it. "It is elven," he added. "Old, though I cannot yet determine its age. But I do not believe the Dalish would have traveled this far up a barren mountainside. Nothing for them to scavenge here save bones." Although knowing the Dalish, they probably would have risked their lives for dust and decayed remnants of something they didn't understand.

But this didn't feel Dalish. It was more powerful. Whether or not it was from Elvhenan was unclear. There had been powerful elves past the fall of Arlathan, though their power had paled in comparison to that of the empire's.

He glanced over at his traveling companion. "Have you experience with old elven magic?" he asked. "It can be...temperamental. If there are wards, allow me to dispel them before we enter. And prepare for a fight," he added. "Wards do not often like to be disturbed."

HULWEN TUGGED ANOTHER BREATH IN, THEN ANOTHER, moving his body through the forms of the drill with utmost concentration. He couldn't be seen lacking, not in effort, drive, or obedience. This was his chance to prove himself. This was his only chance to keep an eye on the demon. And, he could be honest enough with himself to acknowledge, he had begun to look beyond Imshael, to what sort of life he wanted. Something with meaning. With purpose. Now, without his former position in Orlais, he'd have to find and forge a new life. It started here with the Inquisition.

He'd die before he wasted this chance.

It had only been two weeks, but he was beginning to learn the rhythms of Skyhold. He had begun to tentatively make connections, as difficult as that might be, and had tried to limit the amount of time he spent tailing Felassan like a forlorn duckling. Following Felassan, though, meant that most of his connections had been with the elven members of the Inquisition. It was awkward; Hulwen wanted to find a way to connect with them, but it was obvious that he wasn't well-learned in his supposed culture. So mostly he just kept quiet—observed.

That didn't preclude others from observing him, however. As he stepped away from the training field, having been dismissed, the elf Solas called out to him. Solas was an enigma. All he knew of him was that he had the ear of the Inquisitor, was a powerful mage, and was Felassan's "old friend," whatever that meant. So it was surprising to be singled out by him now.

The greeting was strange and made Hulwen stop and think—it was hard, after decades of being steeped in the Game, to not assume every interaction was a cloaked dagger. He did not sense any animosity from the other man, but he did feel as though it was a test of sorts. To see how he'd react to his status of being not one thing nor the other being mentioned.

Hulwen accepted a ladle of drinking water being passed around by one of the support staff and nodded to Solas, walking over as he bent his head to wipe water and sweat onto his padded shoulder.

He gave Solas a small, perfunctory bow.

"I am grateful for your gracious words and concern for my settling in," he said after a moment. "It has been—" he searched for the right phrase and found none which were adequate. "—well, I have learned much, even in a short time. I will have to check with my commanding officer, but if she is amenable, I would be honored to accompany you."

#solas hasn't read TME confirmed #wepthonor

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floraltypes · 3 years ago

Note

lots of innocent and not so innocent touches

With Dwayne Pride if you wright for him if you don't just Gibbs please <3

who - leroy jethro gibbs x reader

an - i’m sorry! i haven’t seen ncis new orleans, so i probably couldn’t write dwayne very well … hope this is okay, for some reason i had trouble writing it :/

please continue to send in asks !!

unedited :/

Blankets surrounded your body, your leg ontop of another while light snores left your mouth. Hair was messed up and a hand was slowly moving to stroke your cheek. The curtains allowed peaks of the sunlight to peak through in your bedroom. A man lying beside you in his sweatpants and old tee.

The grey haired, older, man kept his eyes on your peacefully sleeping face, truly enjoying whatever dream you were imagining. He made no move to remove your leg from the top of his, but did make a move to place his fingers above your face, lightly pushing some stray baby hairs away.

A part of him silently cursed to himself, wishing that he had learned how to work his phone better, then being able to snap a photo of this calming moment for his own purposes.

Gibbs wouldn’t admit it to you, but these moments were more important to him than working on a boat, or the thrill after finally catching a bastard. There was something so domestic, so calming, with these times spent together. Time for him to think to himself, and also have the one he loves so much be so close.

Time to think about the past, and wonder how he got lucky enough for it to land here. Though, he may have lost a lot, and they would never be forgotten, he was grateful for another opportunity at pure happiness.

But his time to enjoy the peacefulness soon ended with a ring of a cellphone, causing you to stir a bit in your sleep. You eventually opened your eyes, staring up at the man who now had the hand that was formally on your face, resting on your chest.

“What’s that?” You questioned, trying to sit up and rub your eyes. “Can you get it?”

“It’s your cellphone,” He answered, missing the warmth of your leg, now having it be moved to lay on the mattress itself.

“Mmk,” You mumbled, reaching over to your side table and grabbing it. Flipping the screen up, you moved it to your ear. “L/n,” You tried to make your morning voice sound more as your own.

“If it isn’t little Y/n!” A cheerful voice spoke loudly on the other line. “Ya miss me?”

“No. What do you need?” You rolled your eyes, getting off of the bed, Gibbs eyes traveling your body as you walked to your dresser, picking out a outfit. “Mhm, okay,” You nodded to yourself. “I’ll be there, text me the address. Oh. Never mind then. Bye.”

Gibbs got out of the bed, going to stand beside you. He silently observed as you rolled your eyes once again, opening another drawer, he snaked his arms around your waist and pulled you into his chest, a small kiss on the inside of your neck.

“Who’s that?”

“A old coworker.” You opened your underwear drawer, picking a pair for the day.

“Purple,” Gibbs commented, as you dropped the blue pair back into the others, reaching for the one he chose.

“Gosh, it’s like we really are married,” You laughed to yourself, looking back at his straight face. “Sorry, you would know too much about that. But that’s not my point, there is a dead marine there and that means we’ve got work.”

“You didn’t seem to happy to hear from him,” Gibbs unwrapped his arms as you moved to your closet, picking out a dress shirt.

“I wasn’t. He’s annoying and almost cost me my job at the time. But, it’s our job, we have to go, so grab your clothes in the bottom drawers,” You turned around and pointed at the dresser that held some of his items, now finding what you needed and beginning to change.

———————-

“If you are all interested to know… I spent the morning watching a old TV show airing about a classic comedic couple who travels the world with their adopted son,” Tony announced to no one in particular, sitting at his desk as the others sat at theirs.

Ziva had her arms crossed, leaning back in her chair a bit. McGee sat in his, rubbing his eyes and looking down at his phone.

“What did you do this morning, McGee?” Ziva looked over to McGee, watching as his eyebrows furrowed.

“Trying to work on my new writing.. but for my character, uh, Miranda, I need a good backstory for her, people are really grasping onto her character from the former story. I’ve read some things saying they think she’ll get with Gibbs, I mean Libbs!”

“Interesting,” Ziva tsked. “I read the story and your Miranda character, who is obviously Y/n, and I don’t see it.”

“You know nothing about romance, Ziva,” Tony waltzed over, his own coffee in hand and his face near hers. “I think no one expects you to think about who would get together. But, no, I don’t see Gibbs getting with someone like L/n who is very, you know-”

“I’m what, DiNozzo?” You walked in, moving straight to your desk as you placed your bag down.

“Amazing! I meant, you’re so great that someone like Gib-” Tony looked at Ziva’s eyes widen. “He’s right behind me, isn’t he?”

“Someone like me, now what’s that, DiNozzo?” Gibbs questioned.

“Uh-” Gibbs smacked the back of DiNozzos head, moving over to his own desk.

“Dead sailor, body is already getting examined by Ducky and some visitors are coming to drop off some of the evidence.” Gibbs informed everyone.

“They think this sailor had something to do with a past robbery and murder, a cold case,” You clarified.

“L/n!” A guy smiled widely, another girl following in pursuit behind him as he walked to you with his arms wide open. “It’s been too long,” He quickly hugged you, tightening his grip around your shoulders and moving his hands to cup your face. “You still look as beautiful as ever!”

“Y/n, is that your boyfriend?” Ziva inquired.

“He looks a little out of her leagu-” You shot DiNozzo a look. “Or not?”

“Ah no,” The man laughed. “Old coworkers, that is Lila and I’m Carson, nice to meet you guys.”

“If your old coworkers, you must have a ton of embarrassing stories about Y/n!” DiNozzo beamed, moving closer to Carson.

“Uh, a few,” He responded. “We only worked together for a year or two, some, but not a ton.”

“Some will do.”

“DiNozzo, we aren’t here to make friends we are here to solve a murder,” Gibbs shot him a look and hit the back of his head.

“Right, sorry, boss.” DiNozzo put his head down like a sad puppy dog and made his way back to his desk. The two visitors looked at the scene that had just happened oddly.

“We brought all of our evidence, not much, but something,” Lila announced, placing the box on the table now and taking some of it out. “Should we get started?”

“I’ll show you to Abby, she is our forensic analysts and will probably want to take a look at this stuff for herself,” McGee told Lila, putting the evidence back in the box and letting her grab it, soon walking towards the elevator.

“You think I could check out the body?” Carson asked you. “It might be good to see what he looked like more and talk with your doctor.”

“That makes sense, I’ll show you to him,” You smiled at your old coworker and took another way to Ducky’s area.

The both of you chatted on the way down, catching up with how things differ since you worked there and a bit about your new workplace here.

“I really thought you would be Jeremy, the one who called me. I was a bit worried,” You laughed, walking into Autopsy with Carson as Ducky moved near you.

“Hello, dear, who’s this?” Ducky questioned, Jimmy moved near his boss.

“Hey, Ducky, this is Carson. Carson, this is Doctor Mallard. He is a old coworker of mine, Ducky,” You told the older man. “That’s Jimmy, he is Ducky’s assistant.”

Ducky began to explain how the man had died, pointing out various things on the body and even putting in a few past experiences of his own into the conversation.

Soon the four of you had heard the doors open, turning around to catch the view of your boyfriend entering into the room and moving to stand right in between you and Carson.

“I just want to hear some of the explanation myself, you can continue, Ducky,” Gibbs commented, all of your eyes turning back onto Ducky who was back to talking.

You felt a warm, larger hand travel to the middle of your back, a thumb softly pressing into the fabric that covered your skin. You turned your head slightly to make eye contact with Gibbs, but he just continued to stare forward ignoring it.

It was like a goosebump went up your spine, yet it wasn’t not encouraged. It was a bit of a energetic feeling, so you rejoiced in the innocent touch, a sign he was there.

Eventually, Ducky was done with his long explanation and you were back to heading upstairs with Carson and Gibbs to do more research regarding the deadman and cold case.

“So, Y/n, I was thinking we could go out to lunch or something soon to really catch up, outside of work,” Carson mentioned while you three were on the elevator ride up.

You were surprised at his somewhat boldness to announce this in front of your boss (and boyfriend), but he was always a very open person, kind and open.

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” You replied.

“We are busy most afternoons.” Gibbs added. “So, if you plan it at some ridiculous time don’t expect my agent to be able to make it.”

The doors soon chimed open and Carson quickly left, making a bee line straight to Lila. Gibbs let you leave first, placing another palm against your back to secretly lead you back to where the desks were, even though you knew where you were going.

———————

The rest of the day was spent with much more working diligently. You all had made some progress but not enough, and you could tell it was really getting to Gibbs. He dismissed everyone and told them to come back in the early hours in the morning.

Gibbs had told you that he was going to stay and work on this some more, so you told him you would stay as well and order some food. Once Carson had heard that, he decided that he would do the same.

A hour later, three burgers arrive and you hand them out to the two other men, soon taking a bite into yours. A bit of the condiment had spewed onto the corners of your mouth, but your hunger caught up with you, continuing to avoid the feeling for a moment and just eat.

Carson caught the look of your messiness, breaking off into a small laugh, and you joining, him then making a joke about how this used to be a regular for you. Gibbs got up from his seat with a napkin and bent over a bit to wipe it away from your mouth.

It was certainly a small gesture, but had caught you and Carson off guard, the both of you quieting. You just stared back at him while he continued to eat with a pride grin on his lips, looking over the papers.

It seemed like a blessing from the sky when Gibbs had finally connected the pieces. Everyone was called back in to look over what he found and to excite a plan on how to continue. You all were able to get the murderer into custody and with old evidence and Ducky’s help you were able to identify he was the killer. With Abby’s help you were able to put him at the scene where your old coworkers cold case took place.

It was a relieving feeling that the case was solved and over. It was easy to tell that your current coworkers were also happy with the fact that your old ones were leaving for good. Having unfamiliar people in a familiar place is always a weird feeling for everyone.

You watched as everyone packed up their things to head home from the tiring few days of work. Standing up, you grabbed your bag and moved to Gibbs desk, chatting with him until Carson came over.

“It was nice working with you again,” He commented, you turned around to face him.

“It was. We make a good team.”

“We really do. I was wondering about that, uh, date?”

“Hm,” That had slipped your mind, and almost did once more when you felt a brush of a hand against your bottom, turning around to make eyes at your boyfriend. “Sorry, I actually have a boyfriend. But if you mean the lunch date to catch up, then I’d love to.”

“The second one,” He nodded, his cheeks brightening a bit at the dejection but also confirmation.

“Great,” You grinned, writing down your phone number and handing it to him. “Talk soon, bye.”

“Goodbye.”

You watched as Carson entered the elevator and soon disappeared, the office area looking very empty with the lights darkened a bit and only you and Gibbs being in the area.

“Glad he’s gone,” Gibbs laughed.

“I figured,” You laughed alongside with him. “I could tell by your touchiness at work, are you trying to let everyone know?”

“If I was, I would do something bolder. Didn’t Ducky ever tell you I used to be like DiNozzo?”

“Yeah, that would be a interesting time to see.”

“I think if I was that same man, we might’ve had sex right o-”

“Let’s get home, now,” You both soon left the workplace, hand in hand, laughing along at stories of the younger Gibbs and his flirty persona.

#gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs #leroy x reader #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #ncis fanfiction #ncis fic #ncis x reader #ncis #ncis reader insert #gibbs x y/n #gibbs x you #gibbs #anthony dinozzo #ducky mallard #abby sciuto #timothy mcgee #ziva david #jimmy palmer

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jilliannotfound · 3 years ago

Note

prepare for a long ask (i’m sorry)

my brain is very full so hear me out-

dream smp casino/mafia au-

now i was at first thinking Kinoko kingdom (karlnapity) are the owners of the casino cause yk Las Nevadas Quackity but then i remembered “Syndicate” (by Derivakat) which has a jazzy vibe and was like, what if the Syndicate was a mafia ‘family’ that ran a casino and reader is their star performer who starts off every night with a performance of “Syndicate”. reader’s performance is used to kinda establish the Syndicate’s power over the casino and to remind the patrons anything they do will be under the scrutiny of a mafia with literally two of the most renowned mafiosos’ (Philza whose reputation of traveling all over and taking down many a mafia family precedes him and Technoblade who has taken down mafia families singlehandedly) in the city, maybe even the entire country.

the Eggpire is like a rival mafia that is trying to take control over the city so it isn’t uncommon for them to try and infiltrate the Syndicate casino. so i was thinking, what if the people who are Pro-Omlette (but not in the Syndicate so Puffy, Foolish (since it’s not confirmed he’s part of the Syndicate), Awesamdude and Eret) are staff at the casino. they were each like a lone agent after their mafia family split up/they left and decided to join forces with the Syndicate to make sure the Eggpire didn’t gain total control of the city. Maybe Sam is a bodyguard stationed either outside the casino or manning security cameras switching with Puffy, Eret can be like a stage manager/backstage to aid the performers and make sure no one sneaks into the dressing rooms or the light control area backstage and Foolish is like a bartender keeping an eye out on the main floor of the casino for any activity.

Dream was the former head of the well-renowned Dream Team mafia family until the family split. he’s notorious for breaking apart mafia families before disappearing into the night and traveling to a new city. occasionally he’ll hire some aid but they never last long.

Ponk used to be an on-sight medic for the casino in cause of bar fights or performers getting injured on stage but after many rumors (later confirmed to be true) of him being a member of the Eggpire he was fired and not allowed to enter the premise of the casino again.

Kinoko Kingdom was a rival casino/mafia family to the Syndicate’s but they’ve decided to have a truce to make sure Dream and/or the Eggppire don’t take over their city. Their casinos have different vibes with the Syndicate’s being more of a hub for mafia and business activity with jazzy music on the constant and famous for civilized and tame yet very entertaining entertainment whilst Kinoko’s casino is like more of a rowdy type casino, famous for high stake bets, drinks with high alcohol content and lively music and entertainment that can be seen as a bit too glitzy and tacky. Like you go to Syndicate casino for a night of business deals and building yourself up to the top, the type of casino you would bring your boss to, whilst the Kinoko casino is the type of casino you go to let loss and risk it all with cheap entertainment and even cheaper booze. their truce works out because their casinos are so different that competition wouldn’t be worth the cash (and the Syndicate knows they can easily take on the Kinoko mafia in a fight but shhhh)

there’s multiple places a reader character could fight but as a primarily Technoblade simp at heart i had to put reader as a performer in the Syndicate casino-

~🦫Anon (if this title isn’t already taken-)

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕪𝕟𝕕𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕖

DSMP x Reader (in-game)

Summary: Request

Warnings: None?

A/N: Okay… I have a few important things to say. First of all, this story is not completed. This request is so genuinely good and I have been trying to work on it for far too long and have had very little success. With that being said I still want to publish the small bit of this story that I’m proud of.

Second of all, I would like any other dsmp writers on this platform to feel free to take this request and perhaps do with it what I wasn’t able to. If you write this story, please tag me because I’d love to see what you do with it. You can also use this bit I have written and am sharing to start off your own version of the story (just give proper credit)!

With all of that out of the way, please enjoy!

—

The Syndicate. One of the highest-end casinos in the country, and certainly the most powerful, being run by two of the best-known mafiosos.

Philza was best known for his travel, being able to track down anyone anywhere and take care of them.

Technoblade was easily the scariest man you could meet. He’d single-handedly taken down more mafia families at the age of 21 than most senior-aged mafiosos could even dream of.

It was rare to see either of the men in the casino, let alone to see them together, so when the pair came through the doors with power in their steps everyone knew something serious was in order.

They took their seats at the bar as Foolish prepared their drinks and Eret directed the casino's attention to the stage.

This performance was a nightly occurrence, the same jazzy tune came from the band's instruments as Y/N emerged from the curtain.

Hey, I'll tell you a little secret of mine

If you promise not to tell, if you have the time

Everyone has gotten you, always on the run

But if you join the Syndicate

Life could get a little more fun

It was the song of the casino, used to remind everyone just how much power it holds.

When all of the horses and all of the men

Won't learn from history, it's all the same in the end

I've told you once and I'll tell you again

The Syndicate is looking for a couple new friends

It reminds the patrons of the casino that no matter what they do, the Syndicate is always watching, studying each of them in hopes of finding some new friends.

Fight for freedom, fight to end the pain

Hey, this is serious, it's not just some little game

'Cause the anarchy's part of me, tyranny bothers me

End it all properly once and for all

They call us the villains 'cause they know we'll take the fall

The members of the Syndicate were a force to be reckoned with, composed of strong fighters and quick thinkers constantly working to take down anyone that dare stand in their way.

The Eggpire was their current concern. Run by a man named BadBoyHalo, the Eggpire was a whole other breed of mafiosos.

They preached about the Egg, whatever the hell that was supposed to be, and always wore a signature red color that made them easy to spot. Sometimes you could even swear there was a red glint in their eyes when talking about it.

After the incident with Ponk, their old medic that got caught up in the red whirlwind, the Syndicate became extra wary of the Eggpire, willing to do just about anything to take them down.

This is exactly why the two most powerful men were sitting together at the Syndicate’s bar with their eyes locked on the stage.

Fight for freedom, fight to end the pain

Hey, this is serious, it's not just some little game

'Cause the anarchy's part of me, tyranny bothers me

End it all properly once and for all

They call us the villains 'cause they know we'll take the fall

When all of the horses and all of the men

Won't learn from history, it's all the same in the end

I've told you once and I'll tell you again

The Syndicate is looking for a couple new friends

Oh, a couple new friends

Oh, oh, oh, oh

Oh no, no

You'll gain a couple new friends

As the jazzy instrumentals faded out, Eret poked his head out of the curtain on the side of the stage, gesturing for the resident singer to come backstage.

Y/N smiled at the audience and walked through the velvet barrier to be greeted by the deep-voiced brunette.

“Did you see who’s out there tonight?” They asked him.

“That's why I called you, they wanna see you.”

Y/N took a deep breath and headed out onto the main floor.

They’d been part of the Syndicate for most of their life and knew they weren’t in any danger near Techno and Phil, but the anxiety still pounded in their head as they approached the men.

Y/N sat on the stool next to Technoblade and the two turned their stools to face them.

“Lovely performance!” Phil praised

They shot him a kind smile and braced themself for the inevitable harsh news that would follow the attempted small talk.

“We need you to do something.” Techno said bluntly. “You know Las Nevadas?”

“Yeah, of course.”

It was another casino ran by Kinoko Kingdom, another mafia family. They used to be considered one of the biggest threats to the Syndicate because they had quite literally appeared overnight and nobody knew anything. Once the Eggpire popped up though, it was safest to become fast friends with the three men that ran Las Nevadas in hopes of strengthening their forces against the red abomination infecting families all over.

“We had a meeting with Quackity and he’s got a bad feeling about some guests that have been stopping by their area. It’s a shitty casino, we all know that, but he thinks it’s more than just some random troublemakers.”

…

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plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms · 3 years ago

Note

Hi hun,

For your 2k follower challenge can I request a soft dark Billy Russo? I’m thinking they are agents from opposite companies hired to take out the other but he decides to keep her. Little does he know she is just as sinister and has the same idea. 😏 Some smut 💜

Oh my darling. I love you so much. You are one of the strongest and most resilient people I have ever met, real life and online. You also remain so kind and so positive. I don't know how you do it and I hope only happy days for you. I took a few liberties with your request, but I hope you enjoy this. 💗

My drabble requests for my 2K Follower Celebration is closed. Thank you for everyone who sent me some love.

Summary: Billy receives a job to take out a woman, but finds himself biting off more than he can chew.

Pairings: Billy Russo x Mercenary!Reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Smut content ahead.

Word Count: 1.4K (Drabble)

One Shots Masterlist | Full Masterlist

As far as meet cutes went, it was fairly standard. Boy sees girl from across a crowded room and they're eyes meet. Sparks fly. The attraction is undeniable. They are naturally drawn to each other. There was a pull to become closer.

So they did.

Closer to each other they went until they were face to face, their elbows touching as they leaned against the busy bar and the noise of the party faded into the background. They couldn’t take their eyes off each other, smiling and making excuses to touch the other as they flirted. Standard romcom material. Ordinary.

Except neither of them were ordinary.

Assessing each other went beyond just sexual interest. Billy Russo was brazen with how he looked you over, raking his dark eyes over your form from head to foot and noting the small details. You wore a simple black dress with matching heels, formal as what the occasion called for but it clung to your body and emphasized the beauty of your stature. He noticed that you wore no jewelry, not even a watch. Nothing flashy. Nothing to draw attention to you and yet your presence was so commanding. There was a quiet confidence to you that was alluring and an effortless elegance that meant you were more than comfortable at this party hosted by one of his business associates. You blended in so well.

Billy was impressed.

You were just as forward with your scrutiny of him. Handsome obviously, ruggedly so but with a clear importance placed on his image. The black suit was tailor fit to him. Arrogant and entitled, but the rough edges in his personality that he couldn't hide gave away the fact that he had to work hard for what he has. The fluid motion of his hands and fingers as he gestured while he talked and picked up his glass told you he was skilled.

You wonder what else his hands were skilled at.

As the conversation flowed, you both unconsciously leaned closer until your faces were inches away. Close enough that you noticed the imperfection on his nose and the enviable thickness of his lashes. Close enough that you could smell the whisky on his breath and the mint he had chewed. Close enough that both your gazes were no longer locked but instead focused on each other's lips, your nerves tingling with anticipation.

"Will you kiss me, Russo?"

"Is that what you want, beautiful?"

"Yes."

"Is that all you want?"

Now your eyes travel back up away from his lips to meet his, your face breaking out into a slow grin at the sight of his mischievous smirk that held many unspoken filthy promises. You bit your bottom lip and shook your head slowly.

"It's a start."

You fell in a tangle of limbs into one of the hotel lounge’s ornate bathrooms, far enough from the party that you didn’t have to worry about anyone interrupting but near enough to satisfy the urgent need to have him inside you. The door was kicked shut and hopefully locked, the noise from the party muffled and overpowered by the sound of sloppy kisses and impatient sighs. You didn’t have to worry about anyone hearing you.

And you were surely going to be making some noise.

Billy was just as vocal, groaning as he lifted you onto the counter and positioned himself between your thighs while he continued to ravage your mouth. He could feel the wet heat of your cunt through his dress pants and his cock throbbed with need. He would have wanted to taste every inch of your delectable body, take his time licking your cunt until your thighs shook around his head and you were drenching his chin with your release. You would have liked to suck him dry, have him begging you as he unraveled in your mouth.

Another time.

Right now the inferno of lust that was burning through you both needed to be sated. He hurriedly unbuckled his pants, pulling them down just enough to free his beautiful long cock. You rushed to hike up your skirt, haphazardly pulling your panties to the side and hooking your knees up on his slim waist. It was a chorus of loud relieved moaning and curses as he slid into you, filling you and stretching you but still leaving you to want more.

And more is what he gave you.

The pace he set was aggressive from the start, pounding into your cunt with the sole focus of getting you both off. It felt so good inside you, so hot and tight as if you were made just for him. The lewd squelching from each hard thrust bounced against the bathroom tiles and the smell of sex was thick in the air. Billy grabbed your neck, pressed his forehead to yours, and bore his dark eyes into you. He squeezed your throat and the small smile of pleasure you gave in response almost made him lose it right then.

"Fucking cum for me. Cum all over my cock like a good girl."

With your head thrown back and your back arched, your lips parted to scream your release as you shuddered. You came hard on his cock, gushing and clenching down as he fucked you through it.

"Yes. Fuck, yeah, that's it."

Goddamn, you were gorgeous and you felt so good. It didn't take long after for him to be cumming inside you, burying his face in your neck as he spilled inside you with a strangled growl. He pushed himself deeper inside you, holding you close and making sure you took every drop from his cock. No words were exchanged for a while, only the sound of labored breathing broke the silence.

He stared at the image of the two of you entwined in the mirror as he trailed lazy kisses along the column of your throat. It was a shame that you fit so perfectly in his arms. It was a shame that you were the best cunt he's fucked in a long while.

It was a shame he had to kill you.

The order was clear. Kill by whatever means necessary. It just so happened that his means were a bit more fun. You were a commission from a high profile client and he was paying Billy a hell of a lot of money to have you dead. It was a shame, but maybe he didn't have to kill you right now. Maybe he could have a bit more fun before he cashed in on the bounty. the devilish smirk grew on his lips as a plan began to formulate in his mind. Carefully, he began to reach for the gun hidden under the suit jacket he had discarded on the counter behind you.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

It was a whisper in his ear that made him freeze and a cold fear traveled down his spine. There was something in the taunting lilt of your voice that set all of his alarms off. As if to punctuate your threat, he felt the sharp pointed edge of a blade press onto his side. He didn't even notice you taking out the knife. Where the hell did you even keep it?

You kept your legs around his waist, pushing his cock to slide against your walls and despite himself he felt his dick twitch back to life. He cautiously reared his head back, careful to keep his expression neutral but the dangerous and cocky look on yours kept him on edge. Nothing in the dossier he was given clued him in on any of this. Who the hell were you?

"Sorry, pretty boy," you said, kissing his lips with an eerie softness. "But I'm getting paid a lot more to stay alive."

There was no warning. Your hands moved with such swift brutality. Billy felt the pain only as he stumbled back, clutching the hilt of the knife now impaled in his midsection. His clothes were quickly stained in crimson. He fell to the floor, his legs unusually weak and wobbly. He stared up at you, watching as you nonchalantly fixed your appearance. He noted the syringe you placed down on the counter. You had drugged him. That explains it.

"Now I gotta kill that employer of yours. I wasn't gonna, but he was stupid enough to pull a stunt like this. I gotta return the favor. Purely based on principle."

You shrugged, smirking a little as you saw him struggle with consciousness. His eyes were already going out of focus. You grabbed your small purse and began to make your way to the door, checking your makeup one last time in the mirror.

"Don't worry. I'll come back for you," you grinned down at him, your hand on the doorknob. "I still wanna ride that pretty face of yours."

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #billy russo x mercenary!reader #mercenary!reader #2k follower celebration

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waspsinyouryard · 2 months ago

Text

Ok. I'm going to talk about Billy Bob Jenkins.

I first came up with him for a pre-calculus project, of all things. We had to design a logo for a fictional company, entirely out of functions and other non-function equations. Think of that one image of graffiti where it has a list of equations that you graph, and it creates a pentagram.

We also had to write a little bit: What is the company? What does it do? That sort of thing.

In a flash of inspiration, Billy Bob Jenkins came to me fully formed, like some sort of modern-day Athena. He was the son of an incredibly wealthy businessman. He had a candy room, where candy was transferred directly into from a nearby factory through a series of long peumatic tubes. And, in the first of a series of ventures that would change the world, he came up with a company called "Jenkins Travel Solutions."

The premise of Jenkins Travel Solutions is quite simple: Have you ever wished you could go on vacation, but you just don't have the time? Are you unable to do what you want because of pesky laws and regulations? If that sounds like you, then you'd just get agents over at Jenkins Travel Solutions to go on your vacation for you. They'd take photos. They'd buy trinkets and whatnot to commemorate your vacation, then they'd give them to you. It's like you really went!

Of course, nobody thought that was a good idea. He couldn't get anyone to even design a logo. So he had to resort to getting some random-ass highschooler (me) to do it.

After that point, I'd bring him up in various assignments. We had to write sentences including vocab words? Billy Bob Jenkins was in some of those. Small, quick creative writing assignments? Billy Bob Jenkins. I developed quite a bit of lore, obviously.

Near the end of his life, Billy Bob Jenkins had taken to spending all of his time searching keywords related to him on various social media platforms. People were calling him delusional! Out if touch! Crazy! He was going to prove them wrong. He was going to become a man of the people. He was going to be a farmer.

He bought a massive tract of land out in the middle of nowhere, which was going to become a park. He had another mansion constructed there: what's the point of farming if you aren't doing it in style? He hired teams to raze his newly acquired land. Trees which had lived for hundreds of years were felled.

One particular issue was a cave on his property. He ordered his people to fill it in with dirt, but they wouldn't do it for some stupid reason about "endangered" animals or something. He didn't really pay attention. If they weren't going to do it, then he would have to—for the very first time in his life—do something himself.

With one small wooden bucket, he attempted to fill the cave with dirt. All it managed to do was surprise a bat, which flew out of the cave, directly into him. He grabbed it in his hand and slammed it, repeatedly, into the stones. Then he threw it back down into the cave and continued attempting to fill it with dirt.

In the following days, he became more paranoid. He thought that his nearest neighbor, a woman named Priva C. Respecter who was beloved in the community he had inserted himself into, was spying on him. She wanted his secrets, so that she could maybe start her own catastrophically unsuccessful business. But one day, it came to a head.

Armed with a shotgun and a hardcover copy of his autobiography (which was actually written by ghostwriters without any guidance from or even knowledge of Billy Bob Jenkins), he broke into her home by throwing his book through the window and stepping inside. He triggered an intruder alarm, but did not seem to care.

Priva was not in her home at the time, and he was arrested by the police soon after. Eventually, it became evident that he was infected by rabies. He was supposed to undergo experimental surgery in order to treat it, but the surgeon refused to operate on him. And, as all things who get rabies do, he eventually died.

His funeral was packed, but not a single person actually cared. They were simply professional mourners.

Partway through the procession, one of the many forgotten kids Billy Bob Jenkins was responsible for manifested. She made her way to the front. Nobody stopped her.

When she reached the front of the church in which the funeral was being conducted in, she began to speak of the hardships she and her mother had faced, ever since Billy Bob Jenkins had abandoned them, as he had done to so many other women and children over the years he was alive.

"I'm glad you died," she ended her speech with, "and I know I speak for all others who had the displeasure to interact with you when I say the world is a better place without you."

Then she promptly exited the scene.

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sukirichi · 4 years ago

Text

earned it [07]

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

cw. explicit smut, pool sex, slight angst, i miss naoya :(, mafia business, mentions of blood, lots of drama, mentions of death and murder

note. IDEK ANYMORE. lmao anyways do you guys want faster updates or do you guys want to wait? i can finish the series next week and then we can move on to white lies 😈

series masterlist

The three of you were seated back at your tables, where the whole dancing fiasco had thankfully ended. Satoru noticed nothing of your behavior – either he was really clueless, or you were a damn good actor – the guy was much too invested with the files Nanami was currently showing.

For a moment, you let yourself loosen as you took a deep breath. The account was much more important than whatever Nanami was scheming.

“I think I may have found where the real money is, or treasure, we should say, since none of us can really figure out what the Zen’ins might be hiding. And from the looks of it, considering Naoya had no idea about what his family kept prior to his death, this is something only his elders wanted to know about,” Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose, sliding a photo of an unsuspecting white manor that you hadn’t seen in a long time. “And it’s been right under our nose the whole time.”

“That’s one of our islands,” you replied with a furrowed brow, “Are you saying you traced the source back there? But that’s impossible, we haven’t used that island for years and even Naoya told me he was going to sell it because it was of no use to us. It’s not on commercial waters and there’s no local people around either. That island is in the middle of nowhere.”

“This is exactly why it’s the best place to hide things – because no one would ever suspect this seemingly harmless middle of nowhere could contain their assets.”

Satoru, who’d kept silent the whole time, inched closer to you. His cologne wafting off to you eased you for a moment – purely because it was familiar – and even though you despised saying it, you were thankful he was here. Currently, the blond man posed a bigger threat, the difference being that Nanami actually had leverage against you while you had more control over Satoru.

You sighed. If Naoya was here, things would’ve been so much better. He never lost his composure in figuring things out on his own. But now that he was gone, now that he’d never be coming back, you had be responsible for his sake, but mostly for yours.

“Take a look at this. The nearest land is a small, uncharted city from Brazil’s outskirts. I’ve been illegally transporting weaponry and firearms somewhere near there since our family started the business – it’s the easiest place to sneak in things without getting caught. All you need to do is pay a few fishermen and they’ll easily transport our load from one place to another, no questions asked,” Satoru announced, seemingly deep in thought as he rubbed his chin. “It would make sense if the Zen’in clan elders found this place useful too. It’s basically a hot site for criminals.”

“But we don’t operate this way. The Zen’in elders are too prideful to handle transactions like this. They would’ve chosen a more…discreet yet formal way of handling things.”

“How does an underwater passage sound?” Nanami pushed the other photo aside to reveal a blurry snap of what seemed like a tunnel under the sea. On the surface, it looked just like an abandoned rig, but it stretched too long, the exterior already covered in mold and seaweed. “About 80 years ago, the Zen’in Clan leader at that time was often heavily targeted by their enemies in business that they preferred to travel under the sea. If my theory is correct, right under that island would be another base of some sort that allows the clan leaders move from one country to another while remaining undetected.”

“So that’s how they easily sent their own shit overseas…”

“It would be a very sound conclusion to assume so,” Nanami crossed his arms at Satoru’s musings, “However, that’s all I know. All I can tell you is where I last got the signal for the source – which is about seven years ago, and a few months right after Toji Zen’in was disowned by his family when Naobito took over. It would also be near around the time he met his wife and had his child, which would increase the possibilities that he may have stored something in this island for his son’s future. Again, it could be money, gold – we don’t really know,” he nodded your way, a sense of finality behind those blue eyes that had now looked so menacing when once it brought you comfort – reassurance. “How you get there is all up to you.”

Something didn’t feel right.

“If the elders really wanted to hide this place, they wouldn’t have passed the rights of the island into my inheritance when Naoya died. They surely wouldn’t have wanted me to find out about this.”

“I could think of two things,” Satoru proposed, “It’s either they trust your potential enough as the clan leader to replace Naoya, or they didn’t think you’d care anyway.”

You let his words sink in. The clan elders have never bothered much with you. They were too prideful about “saving face” and “keeping up images” that they couldn’t even let a word of insult slip past their lips under the belief they were above that. But you weren’t stupid; they had never approved of your marriage to Naoya. An outsider like you, suddenly becoming a part of their family when they could’ve had your husband marry a family friend?

They may have kept silent about their dislike to you, but one way or another, they were going to take action for it.

Knowing the Zen’ins, being a Zen’in, you knew there was one thing they hated the most: not being in control.

“Neither,” you finally concluded while mumbling down at your lap. The theory was hazy, incomplete, based only on mere emotions but slowly, you were coming together to piece it. You felt Satoru turn your way, his large hand caressing your knee as if coaxing the words out of you. “It’s neither. Naoya’s elders…they never liked me. It’s been made pretty clear to me that I’m dispensable without my husband, and I will never be a Zen’in in their eyes. I wouldn’t be surprised if they asked me to give up all my inheritance from Naoya because I’m not related to them by blood.”

The silence in the table stretched.

No matter how grandiose the hotel restaurant may be, you felt suffocated in that seat. How didn’t you realize it sooner? You were in a land that stretched past your territory, with both men accompanying you people you couldn’t wholeheartedly trust, while your husband rotted away back at home – probably covered in dust and not even given a proper burial like he deserved.

There was only one way out of this, to put an end to everything. It would prove to be a daunting task, but you didn’t have a choice. No, in fact, this was your only choice if you wanted to survive.

Satoru’s voice softened upon seeing the grimness of how you turned mum. “I’ll follow you wherever you go. I promise to help you in finding out whatever is in there,” he met your eyes; yours filled with contempt, with fear, with desperation, and his filled with regret. “It’s the least I could do…after everything I’ve done to you.”

You took a deep breath.

You couldn’t lie to yourself. There was no way you could trust him with his empty promises. He’d shown enough times that he wasn’t a man of his word, and you’d be a fool to fall for it again. However, Nanami’s glance was curious and suspecting, hiding his true colors with an innocent gesture of sipping his wine. He may seem unbothered and only here to ‘help’, but this man was cunning, possibly more so than Naoya could ever be, and one wrong move would be similar to stepping on a land mine.

Satoru received no response from you, and soon the three of you were standing outside the hotel’s lobby to escort Nanami back where he came from. The dinner was tense, so much so that you’d unknowingly been clutching Satoru’s bicep the whole time.

He tapped your shoulder, bringing you back to life as he gestured to his phone. “Sorry, it’s Geto.”

“Oh,” you muttered and stepped away from him, feeling your heart sink in your chest as you watched him retreat behind the glass doors. Beside you, Nanami snickered.

“Made up your mind, agent?” he taunted, “This is your final chance to prove yourself. Gather enough intel for us to intrude whatever that mighty clan is hiding underneath that island, surrender Gojo to us, and we’ll give you everything as promised.”

You faced him with fiery eyes, prepared for whatever he’d throw your way when he showed you that cursed red coin again. Realizing its power, the true meaning it held, you immediately shut your lips. It must’ve satisfied to know he was the one in charge here, and how could he not be when your life was literally at the palm of his hands, your days growing more numbered if you didn’t follow everything he asked for?

If you had just…if you had just done everything the Organization had asked you for, you wouldn’t have been here. You wouldn’t have felt this torn.

Nanami flipped the coin before tucking it into his pocket, sending one last salute your way. He hailed a cab and disappeared afterwards, leaving you alone to ponder over the consequences of your actions, your emotions. For the first time in his life, Naoya had lied to you.

He wasn’t correct when he said you were strong.

Because after all this time, you still held onto something that you should’ve let go of a long time ago, and you had nothing but your weak, sensitive, hopeless heart to blame for. Said hurdle appeared not long afterwards, his touch warm on your shoulder as he gazed at the empty spot beside you.

“Oh, Nanami left,” he noted, turning your shoulders to him until you were completely exposed. There was no more hiding from him, or more like you didn’t have enough energy to. You felt dull, tiredness lining your eyes and lips pressed into a flat line. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

Ten days. That was how much you’ve wasted your time here in Milan, and you weren’t even remotely close to figuring things out. Your resources were much more limited the farther you were from the Zen’in Estate, and your lawyer was a family one, meaning they held more loyalty to the actual Zen’ins instead of law-affiliated people like you were.

Simply put, you were all alone to solve this by yourself.

Satoru promised to help, but he kept disappearing in the morning along with Geto. You never asked where they went or what they did; it simply didn’t matter anymore.

You would only spend hours locked in your room as you researched everything you could on your private island near Brazil. Just like Satoru said, it seemed like the perfect place to hide things for the spot seemed remote enough to offer privacy for the family’s getaway. You could somewhat recall Naoya proposing once to take you there for your honeymoon, but business got in the way, and it wasn’t like you truly trusted him then to spend such an intimate with him that you said no.

Sighing, you put all the papers away. Not even a single clue led you to what could be possibly be there, but there was an underwater passage. The fact the Zen’ins was capable of building that made you wonder just what the extent of their powers and influence stretched to, and you contemplated for a bit if you could hold that same ability now that you had his name.

Whatever was there, you would look for it.

Your mission was clear – the success of it would determine the fate of your life. Find out what they’re hiding, surrender Satoru Gojo to the Organization, and then everything would be over.

It sounded simple, yet your heart knew it wasn’t. Naoya died with the confidence of his trust over you, the trust you worked so hard to earn. But wasn’t that point? You needed him to trust you for you to be able to pull this mission off, but things happened, emotions and conscience got in the way, and you banged your knuckles on the table until your ring throbbed on your finger.

You just wanted it all to end. You never meant to hurt Naoya, never meant to betray anyone, but it fucking pissed you off that Naoya wasn’t the real problem. He wasn’t the one holding you back.

With not much thought to your next actions, you slipped past the guards and into the pool that had long been closed since 10PM. Being at your room’s tub reminded you of memories you’d rather forget, and you slowly undid your robe and stepped out of your underwear before dipping in the cold, freezing water.

It felt good. It may have been temporary, but the numbing bite of the water helped you feel more placated. Even for a little while, it was nice to not worry about anything. There were no titles, no mafia drama, no anything, just you and the water that you would’ve easily fooled yourself to be simply enjoying your little trip in Milan until –

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere. You had me worried sick,” You sighed. Of course. Opening your eyes, you raised a brow as Satoru towered over you, a standard hotel towel in his arms. He’d change out of his suit and into cotton shorts and a shirt this time around, possibly on his way to sleep when he realized the room was empty. With no energy to deal with him, you swam away from the man, earning a groan in response. “What the hell is your problem? You’ve been acting weird ever since Nanami came. Listen, if this is about that island, you don’t have to worry too much about anything. I have enough people and resources to help you in every step of the way.”

You ignored him. After everything that happened, what was there to talk about anymore? Even if you told him everything, he might not understand.

So you swam in the middle of the pool, thankful that it was dark enough from the maintenance shutting the lights off that Satoru struggled to find you. However, you’d underestimated him because soon you heard the splashing of the water, and you were harshly tugged by the wrist before Satoru cornered you at the edge of the pool.

He was breathing hard; both of you were, and tried to push past his chest, only to be met with a solid plane of muscle that wouldn’t budge. You sighed and turned away from him, covering your exposed chest with your arms.

“Whatever Naoya is looking for…you’ll find it, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I’m serious,” the scorn in his tone had been so biting you turned back to him, about to hit him with something, scold him for something, but your words died down in your throat before you even had the chance to.

Satoru hadn’t been demanding. His face, illuminated by the moonlight, made his azure eyes twinkle like stardust exploding. Once in your life, you found so much comfort into staring at such beauty, but that was when everything was still a perfect lie. Funny how the truth ruined everything for its darkness, and you could only look back at him weakly, throat running dry from all the emotions that threatened to pour out of you.

Regret and desperation was written all over his face.

“Please,” he rested his forehead on yours, eyes closed as he mumbled, “You’re not alone in this. I don’t want to ask for much because I know I don’t deserve it, but please at least understand you don’t have to solve everything on your own. You’re not…you’re not alone. I’m here now.”

“When you left me,” your voice cracked, “It’s because you thought I wouldn’t love you anymore if I found out your true nature,” Satoru opened his eyes, anxiety swimming in those eyes that had once been so sweet. Perhaps he still held that sweetness now, albeit it was less tender and more cautious as he waited for you to continue. “If I told you about every sin I’ve committed, the name of each person I killed and everything I’ve done, would you stay with me? Or would you leave me again, only this time it’s because you think I’m no longer someone you could love?”

“I don’t understand.”

“I didn’t expect you to,” was all you said before you felt a tear prick the back of your eyes. You didn’t want him to see, god, you wanted to disappear in that moment you couldn’t think of anything else. Crashing your lips to his, you brought him down by the back of his neck to hide the tears freely falling from your face.

He froze for a split second before he eagerly pushed back, clenching the pool edges with his hands so hard his knuckles turned white. You were panting, moaning in his mouth as he pressed you harder against the edge, skin to skin, breath to breath, soul to soul.

Threading your hands to his hair, you grinded down on his shorts where he was already beginning to grow hard. Satoru groaned inside your mouth from your teasing but made no move to stop to – after all, why would he want to stop? It had been years, seven fucking years, and even you wouldn’t want to stop. It was wrong, it was dirty, it was immoral – but you needed this. You needed this more than ever.

Satoru’s hands tickled your waist as he squeezed them harsher than he intended, his calloused fingers travelling until he was kneading your breasts. You pulled away from him, head thrown back to rest on the edge.

And it was romantic.

The moon had never been so big, sprinkles of star shining in the vast darkness, the scene just perfect for two lovers in a getaway from the harshness of life. You knew it wasn’t real and the spell would break sooner than later, but did it matter? He rolled your beaded nipples into his fingers before he ducked down, lips suctioned to suck heavy bruises on the sensitive patch of skin on your neck that had you twitching in his hold.

Along with your moans, you cried harder. From heartbreak, from regret, from guilt; there was no turning back from this.

“Satoru, please, please, please. Make me feel better, make me feel good, I just want to forget everything.”

He nodded eagerly against your neck, letting your eager hands help him push his shorts down before his cock sprang free. His length grazed your lower abdomen for a moment, though he didn’t waste any time in entering your hole. You gritted your teeth at the intrusion, nails dug so hard in his shoulders that he bled.

The both of you had your foreheads connected, noses brushing and breaths mixing as you moaned and he sighed, eyes shut tight from finally being engulfed in your warmth.

“Right there, ‘Toru, oh fuck.”

“F-fuck,” he hitched one of your legs to wrap around his waist, “You’re still so tight after all this time,” Satoru praised, molding his lips with yours once again. He picked up his pace and watched as you desperately clung from one surface to another – his shoulders, his hair, the edge of the pool, flailing your arms each time his deep thrusts knocked the wind out of you – breasts bouncing as he bounced you on his cock.

“You look so fucking beautiful – my sweet, sweet angel. I missed you, missed you so fucking much.”

You didn’t say anything. No words were needed to be exchanged; actions spoke louder than words. At least right now, you could promise you wouldn’t lie.

Pulling him down for another kiss, you bit down on his bottom lip to muffle your moans, too speechless at each movement of his dick grazing past your walls. Fuck, he still felt so good, still knew your body way too well and your pussy hugged him so tight like you didn’t ever want to let go.

But you knew you had to, even as he came inside you and brought you back to your room, uncaring of the dripping mess you’ve both made before he locked the door.

You forgot how many hours you spent underneath him writhing in his bed. He took you each way he wanted – knees folded beside your head, on your side where he whispered all the filthy things he’d been wanting to do to you while he took you from behind, or your head squished on the pillow as he repeatedly smacked your ass, pulling your ass cheeks apart to praise you on how you took him so well. Satoru didn’t stop; you knew what you were getting into the moment you pulled him into you, that his sex drive was insane and he’d take long to tire himself out.

By the time the first shy fingertips of the sunlight extending across the horizon arrived, you were emptily staring at the window, Satoru fast asleep beside you.

It was time.

Silently, you pulled his arm away from you and quickly got dressed. He seemed to still be deep in slumber, and you carried the only bag previously packed with everything you might need. You were on the process of wearing your stilettos when he stirred awake, sleepily eyeing you from the bed you both devoted yourselves to in pleasuring one another.

“Where are you going?”

“Away,” you answered, tight-lipped. “From you.”

“Why?”

“Because…I lied,” you inhaled sharply, gloved hands frozen on the golden knobs.

Just open it, you screamed at yourself, walk away before it’s too late.

But you couldn’t move, pathetic that even after everything Naoya had worked so hard for, you still remained a slave to your past.

“No matter how much I hate everything you’ve done to me, I can’t bring myself to forget I once loved you. Maybe I still do – I don’t know. But what I do know is that I’m not as strong as I thought I was,” you cried, losing grip on the bag before it fell. You watched emptily as all the contents poured out – your money, your clothes, your phone, your ring – it all served as a reminder of who you were, of who you’d forgotten to be, of who you were supposed to be.

Your shoulders slumped in defeat.

“I don’t have enough strength to kill you.”

“Hey, angel,” he cooed, reaching you in three long strides before he caged you in his arms. Satoru was so warm, so strong, and the safety he provided you with only made you cry harder. You wanted to hate him, wanted to keep lying yourself since you’d been doing a great job at doing that for the past seven years, but it wasn’t that easy. Deep down…you still harbored the most miniscule affection, and that enough was capable of destroying you.

“What’s wrong?”

“Everything,” you whispered brokenly as you banged a weak fist to his chest, “Everything is wrong.”

Finavice Pharmaceuticals didn’t disappoint.

You were beyond impressed the moment you stepped through the door, a horde of eager chemists guiding you through the upper floors. Finavice was one of the biggest – if not the biggest – companies that were known for harboring the rarest or hard to get elements that not even you and Naoya could get your hands on.

Not by yourselves, anyway, so you took it upon yourself to strike a sponsorship to their research program in developing a cure to cancer under the guise of being an advocate to the improvement of the medical field.

Truthfully, you just wanted to please Naoya, show him you were useful and that he didn’t need to kill you. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and there you were, your prettiest smile plastered on as you scanned the towering buildings with unmasked interest.

“Here is the laboratory for the Finavice Pharmaceuticals where we test…”

“Mrs. Zen’in?”

The entire team stopped as a tall man, cloaked in a beige suit instead of a lab coat appearhed out of nowhere. Judging by how everyone had ducked their heads down and turned silent, you could only guess he must be the boss. Flashing your most charming smile, you hitched your bag higher up your arm. “Yes?”

“May I have a word with you?”

You fought the urge to sigh. His question was spoken much more of a statement that you weren’t really given a room to decline, and the young chemists gazed at you curiously under their lashes.

Not wanting to create a commotion that would lead into unwanted attention, you nodded, following the man through a set of double doors, guarded by two heavily armed men from the outside.

The man, who was Kento Nanami, the founder of Finavice himself leaned back into his seat as he made himself comfortable. “So you signed a contract with us two weeks ago to partner on our latest medicine, am I right? I’ve read over your proposals and I must say, they are rather interesting and innovative. I didn’t expect that a businessman’s wife would be a chemist who is interested in expanding to the pharmaceuticals as well. The Zen’ins has never been much invested in that.”

Gladly accepting the tea he’d slid your way, you made sure to clink the teaspoon against the porcelain as you played along. “People change, Mr. Kento. My husband and I’s goals are rather different from their former, traditional ones. Surely, steel exchange couldn’t support us for the rest of our lives.”

“I can’t say no to that. Kudos to you and your husband for your rather…ambitious shared goals then.”

Your hand froze on the utensil, and you narrowed your eyes at him in warning. “Are you implying we should not have trusted you with this, Mr. Kento?”

“No, I am merely letting you know that your act won’t fool me,” he chuckled, leaning forwards to rest his chin on his clasped knuckles, his blue eyes growing dark and serious. “I know what you and your husband’s family does. The Organization knows a lot more about your actions than you think you know we do. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re only here because we’re the only company who has access to an element you need for your drug, isn’t that the case, Mrs. Zen’in?”

Well…this was certainly unexpected. You’ve been effortlessly deceiving countless businessmen, government leaders and officials even, that this took you by your surprise. Two could play at this game.

Even if he saw through you long ago, it wouldn’t take much to grab his letter opener that was right beside you and puncture it through a jugular vein. If his guards came, you could easily take them down too. Today was one of those few moments you were thankful for Naoya’s hellish training.

But you didn’t want him to feel satisfied, so you leaned back into your seat and crossed your leg over the other.

“If you knew this whole time, why didn’t you kill me already? A lot of people wouldn’t miss the chance to do so.”

Nanami chuckled. “It’s because like you, I’m not just a pioneer. I, too, have my goals and loyalty laid out for someone else. Most specifically, the Organization, an international collaborative effort of stopping and reducing mafia movement for the safety of our people. Obviously, I’ve been assigned in the Yakuza Division, and it’s no coincidence I read through your file. You are, after all, one of our precious targets.”

You stared at him boredly. Why couldn’t he just get straight to the point?

“Is this a threat? I’m not sure it’s working.”

“Oh, no, I’m not threatening you,” he snatched your tea and took a long sip from it, and it was the first time you learned of his habit of concealing his curious gaze through drinking; a perfect act to seem inconspicuous.

“I am offering you a path to redemption. You may fool everyone, but I know an unhappy woman when I see one, Mrs. Zen’in, and I can tell you find no pleasure in the life you live – running errands for your criminal husband, constantly fearing for your life, wishing you’d just been a regular person like everyone else…” At the lack of response, he took it a gesture for him to continue, and he set the cup down, pushing his glasses right back up his nose. “The Organization has labeled you a target, but I think you’re more of a victim caught in a series of unfortunate events. I merely wish to save you from it.”

You guffawed in laughter at his last statement.

“You men really are ridiculous!” you slapped your palm on his table, losing every bit of that elegant composure to be perfected by a Zen’in wife. “Always preaching about saving me and protecting me – what actually are you pathetic losers even capable of?”

Much to your dismay, Nanami didn’t seem the least bit affected by your mockery.

“Please, don’t group me in with your husband and your former lover. Unlike them, I harbor no interest in you as a woman, I only want to fulfill my duty as an Agent and save you not because you’re a damsel in distress, but rather because…I could kill two birds with one stone,” his eyes shone in mischief, and you swallowed in discomfort as he gazed you up and down.

You’ve had enough experience with being seen as a meal, but this was different. Nanami was viewing you like you were a secret weapon he intended on using as much as he could to achieve his goals.

“You are a very convenient woman, Mrs. Zen’in. Similar to how your husband adores your abilities, I would like to take advantage of your connections. The only difference between me and them is that I can actually give you something money can’t even buy.”

“Such as?”

“A second chance at a normal life.”

“What makes you think I’ll accept your offer? I’m the wife of a mafia leader – my loyalty resides in him.”

“Only because you fear for your life,” he flashed you a red coin, crescents of a Latin quote scripted inside. Mori quam foedari – death before dishonor.

“Join the Organization, Y/N. With your connections, we could easily take down these families and protect the country. Hand over Satoru Gojo and Naoya Zen’in to us, and I promise the Organization will do everything in its power to give you the life you always wanted. A safe, normal one. No more worrying about being killed as you ride your car, no more beating yourself up as you make drugs to promise your usefulness to your husband and no more pretending you are someone who you’re not,” he flipped the coin between his fingers, and tantalized, you couldn’t keep your eyes off it. “Don’t you want that? You’d be able to live freely if you cooperate with us.”

You could hear the gears in your head turning. Part of you would’ve assumed this was a trap had you not known better, but Naoya taught you that if something was a trap, it would sound too easy, too good.

None of this was easy. It would require facing a demon from your past and handling things differently than what Naoya had planned, but that wasn’t the worst.

It was the fact that if you accepted, you’d have to come home tonight and lie in the face of your husband who could easily read through you. He smelled lies and treachery before you could realize you were even thinking of doing something, and knowing Naoya, he wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet between your eyes the instant he felt something was off.

But his offer… it was a risk you had to take. You wouldn’t ever get an opportunity like this again.

“Do you promise…that I’ll really go back to normal after this? That I won’t be involved in this mess anymore?”

“I can only promise that if you also promise to do your part. You see, I strongly believe you are the one that can put an end to this all. All you have to do is join us, and soon it’ll feel like this nightmare never happened at all. You’ll be free from Naoya Zen’in and Gojo Satoru before you realize it.”

You stared at his coin harder. Death before dishonor. This Organization he was a part of obviously didn’t fuck around, and it seemed scarier because they had their eyes on you for a while now. What were the odds they offered a deal instead of outright killing you, even going as far as to provide you a second chance at life, one that you genuinely wanted to enjoy? It would be a shame to say no, and even if the chances of this turning out well were low, you would damn well take it. A small chance was better than nothing.

“What do I have to do?”

Nanami grinned and pocketed his coin. “A very wise decision, Mrs. Zen’in,” he congratulated, “Please, meet me at my office tomorrow, eight on the dot. Oh, and remember, the Organization will now be watching you wherever you go. You’re one of us now.”

The next day, Nanami had cut your palm.

He spilled your blood into an empty metal casing with engraved letters, mori quam foedari, the phrase both comforting and ominous. Soon, you came home with your blood solidified into a coin to prove your membership and loyalty, that they quite owned you in more ways than one. Your blood meant your loyalty, and the coin felt heavy in your pocket with the implication it was also your blood they wouldn’t hesitate to spill should you betray them.

Mori quam foedari.

Death before dishonor.

Your life over Naoya’s, your future over Gojo’s.

The next few days had been tense. After telling Satoru everything down from the smallest detail, things had shifted between you. Quite frankly, you expected that maybe he’d kill you right then and there after explicitly stating that just because you couldn’t kill him, didn’t mean you wouldn’t turn him in.

“Angel,” he begged, “Will you never really give me the chance to do everything right this time around?”

However, you were too firm on your plans. You originally wanted to leave and go to the island yourself; it was easier to leave Satoru open and vulnerable for the Organization to attack him in your absence. He loved you, that was much clear, and if he looked for you, he’d make himself vulnerable to the Organization, but recent plans had to be altered now that he wasn’t willing to let go of you. Though no matter what he said, you valued your life and future more than you could ever love him.

It was an act of kindness to yourself.

“I don’t want this life anymore, Satoru. Either way, I don’t have a choice, not when I could die literally anytime before I could even say goodbye.”

It had been hours since ‘that’ talk and now you were on a plane back to Tokyo. You had to pull out some archives from Naoya’s files to know more about the island before you could visit it, and it was important for Satoru to know details such as security measures over there.

You’d long fallen asleep from exhaustion, bundled up in a fleece blanket while Geto glared at you.

“Are you sure about this, Sir? I think we should just keep her with us even if she doesn’t want to. The Gojo clan is powerful enough that no one would dare cross us. Not even this Organization she speaks of has ever done anything to us. Without her, they stand no chance against us,” he sat in front his boss and kept sending wary glances your way. “Letting her go like you did before wasn’t a good idea. She knows too much about everyone to live normally now. Do you really believe the Organization will protect her?”

“Knowing the strings the government could pull – and add on to the fact Nanami Kento, one of the richest men in this country works for them that it’s safe to assume each figure in them is a powerhouse – I don’t doubt their promise one bit.”

“But you’ll go to jail if you let her surrender you. Or worse, they’ll destroy the clan from the bottom up.”

“I know that, Geto.”

Geto groaned, brushing his hands through his hair from how indifferent his boss was being, drinking champagne as if he wasn’t willingly walking into his own death. “Then why aren’t you thinking more clearly about this? I understand you love her and you want to make it up to her, but we can’t let her do whatever she pleases! In order to keep herself safe, she’s going to sacrifice you! She’s dangerous, Sir, she’s been lying to her husband the whole time and who’s to say she isn’t capable of doing something worse to a stranger like you?”

“I told you already, Geto,” Satoru swirled the pink liquid in his flute, his face empty and unreadable. “I know.”

“With all due respect, Sir, I don’t agree with your decision. The clan would fall without you and you don’t have siblings or an heir. No one is powerful to hold the clan together aside from you so if you leave – there’s no more hope for us,” he sighed when Satoru didn’t budge. “I at least want you to reconsider your actions. She’s just a woman, Sir. It’s either we kill her or we imprison her. You let her go before because you believed she would be your downfall, and quite frankly, it’s happening all over again.”

Satoru gazed out the window, bringing the flute to his lips with a dark glint in his eye that Geto recognized meant trouble, or worse, an actual solution to this hellish situation.

“Which is why we’re going to pay an old friend a visit, Geto. There’s only one person who could turn the tables around.”

ADDITIONAL NOTE: TOJI IS COMING SOON!!! what are your theories on what might be on that island and *drum roll* WHO IS GOJO’S OLD FRIEND?!

taglist open:

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hotwings0203 · 4 years ago

Note

as ur irl bestie i am cashing in my favor and am asking- no begging for a dilf damon fic pls <3

😑fine fineee I guess I can take a quick break from writing BNHA stuff for you🙄

CW: NSFW, Damon Albarn being an a-hole, manipulation, gaslighting, language minor stuff like that

The studio itself was pretty spacious, you couldn't lie. As much as you loathed to give this cursed group any more credit, you were hard-pressed to remember the last time you´d been called into such a professional recording booth. You were used to dingy atmospheres, crumbling walls, stained carpet, and even cramped garages at times. It felt like your years of meticulously swaying your hand back and forth on the rosin and tuning your strings until they damn near popped were slowly going down the drain, lost in spaces of screaming adolescent boys and shady market agents. The streets of London were unforgiving for a young musician like you, no room to turn to since others were exactly in the same position as you.

It was by pure coincidence that the day you had played for a local cafe for a small commission, Graham fucking Coxon was sitting in the back of the run-down joint, sipping a murky glass of Bourbon.

You didn't notice him at first, of course. You had simply let the music in your mind travel from your head down to your arms, and allowed it to move through your fingertips to your bow. The serene melody that sang through the air had turned his head to face you, the shitty drink in his hand stopped halfway to his mouth.

Your solo was only a couple of minutes, but the second you were done and packing your bags to head out, the brunette made a beeline for you, blocking your exit.

¨Uh, can I help you?¨ You cock your head and shift your violin case.

¨Yes, you can actually. Listen, I know this is gonna sound a bit straightforward, but I really liked your piece. Did you compose it yourself?¨ He sounds quiet and sounds nervous, with him barely looking you in the eyes.

¨Yeah, I did!¨ You can´t help but beam-it took you several days just to perfect a few meager lines, but in the end you were content with the piece.

¨Wow...that's serious talent right there,¨ He opens the door for you, and you nod before you head out, him trailing behind you as he leaves with you.

¨You make a good amount of money doing small jobs like this?¨ His voice is nasally and low, but with a slightly higher pitch than your typical London accent.

At this, you squint your eyes a bit and turn your head at him. It was nice of him to be interested in your work, but for someone you don't personally know, the idea of talking about your small gigs that merited little to no money was not something you were fond of.

He senses your hesitancy and immediately withdraws. ¨I´m sorry, that was probably rude of me to be so blunt about it. Actually, I don´t think I´ve properly introduced myself.¨ He stops to face you, and you do the same.

¨I´m Graham Coxon. You may or may not have heard of me, but I can assure you that I too enjoy music, as an understatement.¨ He extends a calloused hand and smiles a little bit, adjusting the blocky glasses on his face.

Graham...Coxon? Graham as in....oh, holy shit.

¨No way.¨

¨Er...unfortunately, yes way.¨ His soft voice lilts as he holds back a laugh, and you gape at him.

¨Oh my god!¨ You drop your violin case in the excitement of eagerly returning his handshake. ¨You-you're from Blur! I know you!¨

¨Was from Blur, and ´careful now, don´t wanna ruin your instrument. But listen, I´m kind of in a bind here so I´ll get to the chase. We´re working on a few chords here and there back at the studio, and I´ve been on the lookout for a while for someone who fits our tune. ´Thing is, the deadline for submitting our song is comin´ up fast, so we only have a couple weeks left.¨

You raise your eyebrows, heart pounding in your chest as you listen to his proposition.

¨So I´m thinking, you sound pretty good, it's exactly what we need to fill in our bridge. I´d love it if you came in and played a tune for us. If we like you and you´re cool with it, you could feature on our song.¨

It feels surreal. Were you hearing right? Graham Coxon from Blur asking you to play on his song? This had to be a prank.

¨Ẅait, but you've only heard me once, what if my sound doesn't match what you're actually looking for?¨ You stammer, palms clammy as you wipe them off on your trousers.

¨Well, that's what a rehearsal session is for, lovely,¨ He chuckles nervously and slides his slightly foggy glasses up his nose. ¨So, you wanna give it a go?¨

You think for a moment, biting your lower lip. There wasn't exactly anything stopping you now, was there? I mean, sure, the prospect of playing in front of one of UK's most famous bands was daunting, but this was your chance to finally be recognized!

Taking a deep breath, you pick up your fallen case and nod. ¨Alright, I´m in. When you do wanna meet up?¨

Graham visibility deflates in relief, letting out a shaky exhale. ¨Great. I'll text you the time and place, yeah? The boys and I´ve gotta get a few more things set up, so we´ll be in contact soon.¨

You both exchange numbers, your phone tingling in your hand long after you bid farewell and drive home in a buzz.

When you finally get home to your apartment, you throw your keys onto the counter and flop down onto the mattress. What a fucking day.

So many thoughts bounce around in your addled head. You want to do well, but obviously you don't have their kind of experience in the industry. Should you play more in tune with their song, or continue with your own sound? An idea pops into your head amidst your lunch, a few hours later. Why not just do some more research on the band themselves? Then you'd know exactly what kind of music they're looking for.

The boys and I´ve gotta get a few more things set up.

Oh yeah, who else was in the band? It's not like you didn't know who Blur was at their peak, but you paid more attention to their music rather than their faces. Truthfully, you never really basked in tabloids and newspapers purring about the next big scandal, or the top dogs of Britain´s industry when that stuff was relevant.

You abandon your pathetic sandwich and make your way to your laptop, sliding into a chair and getting down to business. After a few quick searches, you pull up a couple tabs around the name Blur.

Graham Coxon- Recovering alcoholic. Big fight with Damon Albarn.

Alex James- Cute boy turned conservative. Classic case.

Dave Rowntree- Mainly untouched. Became a successful lawyer. Good for him.

Damon Albarn- A fucking mess.

Puffing up your cheeks and putting your hands behind your head, you lean back in your chair. Good god, this man is a wreck. Headlines from decades ago swim in and out of your eyes, loud, obnoxious neon prints of Justine and Damon broken up again? Suede claps back!, or Will the Blur Brothers ever come back to each other? Find out first-hand from Coxon himself!, and worst of all, Albarn relapses again, Damon Albarn from Blur goes head-to-head with Liam and Noel-news flash, the brothers win!

You think you see something about him and a potential wife and child, and that's when you decide it's time to sleep.

After all, there's no point in getting caught up in any of their backstories.You were just there to play a solo and get out. Nosing around in their lives was more trouble than what it was worth, anyways.

Which is exactly what you kept trying to tell yourself as you walked into the modern studio two weeks later, its grey soundproof walls and white floor screaming fancy and rich to you. And fancy and rich didn't come without grit and experience, which you had none of. As if to emphasize your inexperience, you went into the wrong halls twice before you exasperatedly checked your messages with Graham and saw that no, it wasn´t room 311, it was room 113.

Finally, finally, you came across your designated room. The mahogany door was closed, and you placed a hand on the silver knob. You could faintly hear the sounds of a guitar being played from the inside, and it was curiosity above everything else that compelled you to push it open.

From behind the clear window that separated the booth from the recording area, you see them. Graham, Damon, and other men you don't recognize are all in the midst of the song, the same song Graham had texted you the PDF of for the violin notes. You sheepishly take a few steps forward and clear your throat to catch the attention of a bald man leaning back against his chair right in front of the glass. He turns around and you give a weak little wave, clutching your case in the other hand.

¨Hey, I´m here for-¨

¨-Yeah, yeah, Graham told me all about you. Go on ahead and join in, they just started.¨ He pulls a toothpick out from between his lips and gestures to the door of the divider.

You feel your heart pounding in your chest as you make your way through the second door, and the second you step inside meekly, Damon and Graham´s eyes are on you.

Graham continues to play the guitar, only lighting up his eyes and giving you an encouraging nod when you step in, and the other two men on bass and saxophone also give a quick smile in greeting. And Damon…well.

Damon barely acknowledges you.

He continues to sing and stare straight ahead at the wall in front of him as if there's an interesting scene being played out on the grey paint.

You´re unsure of whether to catch his attention and give a proper greeting, but you decide not to as it would interfere with the song. So instead, you quickly grab a nearby chair and stand and set up your rosin and papers.

Your timing is perfect; the bridge is about to come up. Just to be certain, you look up from your poised position and catch the eyes of most everyone except for Damon´s. They all give you a quick thumbs up or an expectant look for your confirmation of playing.

And then, it comes. Damon stops singing, and your cue to sweep your bow across the horse hairs of your strings comes.

Melodious, whole, fulfilling, it was. Graham´s guitar chords harmonized with the tones of your violin, and music that you´ve never dreamed of creating was made by your hands exceptionally.

Everyone was in awe of your raw talent, from the way their gazes were rapt onto your bow, moving back and forth,staying still in some highs and whittling away at the lows. You even thought you saw the producer from inside the booth turn his head towards you from the corner of your eye, but you couldn´ be sure.

Everyone except Damon Albarn.

The song ended a minute later with the signal of a fading out bass, and then there was silence.

¨Right on with that tune.. ´Thought we'd be fucked ova´ if we didn't find someone to take that melody.¨ The bassist with long shaggy hair grinned and you returned one back.

¨Yeah, I was kind of hesitant when Graham ´ere told us he found one to take this position on, but I'm pleased.¨ The saxophone player scratched his chin and hummed his agreement. You felt relief.

Until he spoke.

¨Is this your first time playing?¨

You look incredulously over at him, looking straight on at his face. Sandy hair, lines on his cheeks, slight scruff around his chin, he looked older than his online pictures.

¨Uhh, no?¨ You laugh a little, trying to keep the annoyance out of your voice. ¨If I was, I doubt Graham would think I´m good enough to play with you guys.¨

¨I don't think Graham is the only one who needs to think that.¨ Everyone shifts uncomfortably, looking nervously from Damon to you, and Graham tugs his collar as if the temperature had gone up.

But nonetheless, you don't back down.

¨Oh yeah? How so?¨

¨You played the G-string too high,¨ He deadpans, looking utterly bored amidst oceanic hues.

¨What?¨ You flip your music pages a couple of times until you find the page where you played that part. ¨No I didn´t, I was right on tune-do you even know how to play the violin?¨

¨No,¨ he smirks, and with your blood boiling steadily you open your mouth to argue, but thankfully Graham butts in.

¨Damon, don´t be a prick, she played fine. Unlike you, who fucked up on the 5th verse.¨

The man in question lazily stretches his arms above his head, causing his white tee to rise a few inches over his belly button. You can´t help but glance at the skin-it's smooth, cleanly chiseled with part of his v-line showing, a happy trail rising from the juncture.

¨Oi, sweetheart, eyes up here.¨

You snap your gaze back to his smug face, cheeks burning.

¨I didn´t-¨

¨Sure you didn´t. Just like how I didn't mess up on the 5th verse, and how you didn't ruin the song with your shitty violin, yeah?¨ He simpers, and you almost rise out of your seat to snarl at him before Graham jumps in between you two, scolding a very inappropriately-grinning Damon.

You get up out of your chair and huff, shoving your belongings back into your bag as everyone else packs up, the men bickering and playfully throwing shit at each other.

The producer even congratulates you on your successful first day, and everyone cheers and pounds you on your back, your hair falling in your face and gracefully hiding your 120k watt smile.

Damon shoulders right past you, knocking your case right out of your hands. You grapple with it for a second before it hits the ground, and when it does you whip around and shoot him an icy glare.

He's not even looking at you, he's already out the door.

It's quiet for a moment.

¨Well, there he goes again being a dickhead. Classic Damon, you got.¨ The saxophone player points to the leaving blond and grins sheepishly at you.

¨What's his problem?¨ You ask in disgust, shaking your head as you join the rest of the boys leaving.

¨Uh, well...¨ Graham scratches the back of his head and avoids looking at you. ¨He's always been kind of like that, y´know, so don't take it too personally, but between just us four, his wife´s been on his arse for a bit about um...some...domestic affairs.¨ He finishes lamely, and the other two men guffaw at your raised eyebrow.

You don't have a chance to press further as to ask what domestic affairs, exactly because a loud clap of thunder shakes you all to your cores as you step outside.

¨Aw, come on!¨ You stamp your foot and hold out your hand for confirmation of the raindrops about to drop on you all. ¨I didn't know it was gonna rain today,¨ you grumble.

Graham squints up at the sky and wipes some droplets off his blurred glasses, covering his head with his jacket hood as he begins walking to the parking garage. ¨I´ll see you lot in about a week, yeah? Just keep practicing, good rehearsal we had today!¨ He waves his hand and dashes off.

¨Good job on your first day, Y/N. Fancy the weather on your walk back for us!¨ The sax and bass player bid farewell and also do a sprint to their respective cars, splashing through the puddles and sending muddy water on your pants.

¨Urgh!¨ You raise your hands to try and protect your bottoms but to no avail- London's sewage strikes again.

Sighing in defeat, you walk through the rain towards your car, succumbing to the grimy walk. Unfortunately you didn't think to use the parking garage due to high nerves when you first came in.

You walk for about 5 minutes, the rain drenching your hair and clothes and chilling you to your bones.

Could this day get any more annoying?

Oh, but you should´ve known that it could.

Because right at that moment, a black limo swerves right next to you on the sidewalk, sending a massive wave of gutter water right your way.

You swear loudly and jump back, barely managing to avoid the remnants of the sewage tsunami crossing your feet.

Looking up wildly at the offensive vehicle, you make a fist and flip the window off, your lip curled up into a snarl.

The obsidian glass rolls down.

¨Well that's not very nice, is it? Nasty weather we got going on right now, careful it doesn't get on your clothes.¨

Oh.

¨It's you,¨ you monotone, less than pleased to see his salacious grin at your predicament-which was being soaked to your undergarments in brown muddy water, your hair clinging to your face and your violin case lugging down towards the ground, its weight proving mutiny against you today of all days.

¨In the flesh,¨ Damon beams, and you scowl at his cheery attitude.

¨You almost drowned me, asshole,¨ You turn your nose up in scorn, and he chuckles in his baritone voice.

¨Nah, cant´ve love, I can't drive,¨ he clicks his tongue and jerks his thumb to the seat in front of him, where you assume his chauffeur is.

¨Oh, so it was under your orders that your poor driver practically waterboarded me?¨ ¨Well, yeah, I mean what else do you expect me to do when I see a pretty lady walking so harmlessly in the rain?¨ Your voice catches in your throat for a second from his words and the way his glacial eyes twinkle for a moment, but then he erupts in dry chuckles at your demeanor and you throttle your hesitancy at speaking.

¨Shut up, you're absolutely vile, y´know that?¨ ¨So I´ve been told, but to be honest sweetheart, I´d rather hear that in bed, where I´m used to hearing it. Now are you going to get in or shall I talk about my sexual prowess with you the rest of the afternoon?¨ He opens his door from the inside and mockingly winks at you.

You feign a gag, but still decide to jump in the spacious limo when a flash of lightning lights up the sky.

He scoots back to give you space to sit and adjust your violin case on the seats in front of you, but just as you´re about to close the door, he leans in right next to you and reaches behind you to pull it shut himself.

You´re caught still as he draws close, you´re extended hand frozen in midair as his arm against your back flexes and stiffens with it pulling the door. You can feel his breath against your neck as he exhales, can feel some of his hair tickling against your ear and cheek. You hold your breath, not daring to move lest you accidentally brush up against his proximity.

The loud slam of the door causes you to jump, and he laughs a little at that, signaling his driver to go.

You don't quite face him, your gaze down in your lap as his entire body is facing you, still stuck in its position when he was closing the car door.

¨Not nervous, are you?¨ He murmurs in your ear, and you can´t help it when your whole body shivers at feeling the rumble in his gravelly voice.

¨N-no, I´m not. Do you have to be so close?¨ You stammer, barely giving him a sideways glance which eggs him on, much to your displeasure.

¨Not really. But if you´re not nervous, then it shouldn't be a problem, right?¨ He says quietly and leans around to catch your eye.

Before you can lose your nerve and jump out of the car, you snap at him. ¨You just don´t quit, do you?¨

He finally relents and the side of his pink lips lift lazily as he stretches his knees out and practically manspreads across the expanse of three seats. ¨Nope. Not that you really were against it though, ´could feel your heart pounding a mile a minute sweetheart. Trust me, I´m used to making girls nervous, I would know.¨

You sneer at him. ¨Don´t call me sweetheart, and yeah, I was nervous about getting some disease-ridden prick like you getting close to me. God knows how many STD´s you've contracted from bedding some poor groupies.¨

¨Only one way to find out, right love?¨ He leans his head up to the car ceiling and lets his tousled golden hair flop back, his jawline accentuated by the cream-colored seats contrasting with his tan skin.

You catch yourself staring, and shake your head quickly.

¨You must´ve been more hopped up on heroine than I thought if you think I´d ever fuck a self-absorbed, narcissitic bastard like you.¨

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, but once they do your eyes widen and you clap a hand over your mouth in horror.

Damon lifts his head and slowly turns to face you, his mouth set in a thin line.

¨A self-absorbed, narcissistic bastard whose limo you're riding in, need I remind you, so I can´t be all that bad. ´Can't say I haven't heard any of that before love, but most girls who say that end up in my bed anyways.¨

You open your mouth to argue but he cuts you off.

¨Although, ´hopped up on heroin´ is a new one. Just exactly how much research have you done about me so far?¨

Your rebuttal dies in your throat. You were caught.

Your ears burn and your face flushes as you bite your lip in embarrassment. Maybe you went too far, and on top of that you let it slip that you knew about him beforehand.

But you refuse to kowtow in humiliation to this idiot, so you think quickly.

¨I doubt you´ve got your head that far up your ass to disregard how half the world was tuning into your personal life when Blur was big, Damon.¨

He looks unimpressed with your excuse, but before he can open his mouth to question you further, you hurry up with another save.

¨Also, where are we going? You never asked me where my car was.¨

Bingo His eyes brighten and he shouts at the driver, harping on about him being a brain-dead idiot for driving in circles the past 10 minutes.

What a save.

*******************

The moment you step into the booth next week, a drumstick is lobbed at you from seemingly nowhere. You yelp and hold your case up, blocking the weapon as it bounces off your makeshift shield. You bring the case down and shoot a glare towards the only man you know capable of acting so childishly at his grown age.

But he´s already scrolling through his phone, looking for a measure to start from.

¨You´re late.¨

¨Hardly,¨ you mutter, glancing at the clock on the wall. Two minutes past shouldn´t be an excuse for having a drumstick pick out your eye.

¨Good to see you again, Y/N,¨ Graham pipes up softly, sending you an apologetic glance from Damon to you and you stick out your tongue in faux annoyance.

The other two members of your group greet you as well, and you all begin practice. Notes begin harmonizing together, voice and sound coinciding to make music you´ve swayed your hips and nodded your head to on blue nights.

It´s a hot day, humidity clinging to your skin akin to the perspiration hanging off your forehead, and halfway through the song you decide to take off your sweater. You´re wearing a white tank top underneath, nothing too revealing save for the slight dip in the V-neck, but you couldn't care less about modesty at the moment when your fingers were literally slipping in their grasp on your sweat-slicked bow.

During a quick break in your part of the song, you slip off your sweater and fan yourself out. It feels good, but you feel a pair of eyes staring at you. Following the laser gaze, you turn your head to face Damon, but he´s nose-deep in the lyrics sheet, warbling about a broken love or friendship.

Huh, must´ve been imagining it.

Your solo comes up, and you prepare yourself for tackling the notes to your best ability, keeping up with Graham´s rapid guitar pace. Sweat continues to build on everyone´s vicinity when the rapid movement of arms waving around their own instrument causes more body heat to suffocate you all.

Miraculously, the song finishes, and you collapse in your seat like the rest of the men, panting and wiping slick off your foreheads. You reach for a bottle of water on the floor and unscrew the lid, grimacing at its lukewarm temperature but drinking it nonetheless.

For the second time, you have an unnerving feeling of being watched. This time, you whip your head to the side and catch him staring straight at you.

Damon´s face is flushed, his hair tousled, his rose colored glasses steamed up from the muggy aura in the room. His denim jacket is hanging off one shoulder, the rest of his torso covered with a sheer wife beater that accentuates his chiseled dad-body.

But he just stares you down, saying nothing. You frown at him a little bit and shift your body away from him, feeling vulnerable to his laser-gaze. His eyes darken, but Graham speaks, cutting him off from whatever he was about to say.

¨That was pretty good, you lot. Greg, Taz, hold off on the third beat of the fourth measure. We´ve gotta crescendo slightly-¨

¨Y/N, do you have a job?¨

Damon's voice cuts off Graham, and everyone falters as they look at him and then you in surprise.

¨I don´t know what you mean,¨ you respond coolly, knowing that whatever he was about to say wasn't good.

¨I mean, do you have a job? Because as far as I know, most people who work don't dress like whores at their job.¨

His eyes travel from your face down to your slight cleavage, and you sputter in rage as the rest of the boys shift uncomfortably.

¨Damon, for god's sake what´re you on about?¨ Graham asks wearily, taking his glasses off and rubbing his shiny neck.

¨I could ask you the same thing, actually. Because as far as I know, you've fucked enough women in your lifetime that one would think you could keep it in your pants for five minutes without acting like a twelve-year-old. Oh, but unless that´s too professional for you? I guess you´re not as serious about your work environment as you claim.¨ you laugh, and the sax player, Greg, snorts into his water bottle.

Damon sneers, ¨How could I forget, you actually have done your research about my life and sexual endeavors, what a cute little fangirl you are. If you wanted an autograph, you could've just asked, sweetheart.¨

¨Go fuck yourself,¨ you snap. ¨You´re all wearing wife-beaters anyways, what's the difference?¨

Damon starts again but Graham claps his hands loudly, startling you all.

¨Enough, both of you! What's gotten into you? Need I remind you that our song is due in less than two weeks? We need to finish this shit and get on with it. Stop acting like children.¨

You mumble under your breath and Damon shoots a dark look to his childhood friend, but the brunette doesn't back down, and continues to give advice on how to improve their song. You don´t look at Damon the rest of the session out of pure spite, but that doesn't stop him from shamelessly staring straight at you, right until it's time to leave.

The second Graham checks his watch and exclaims that it's a quarter past twelve already, you´re already bolting out of your seat and shoving your violin in its case, eager to get out of the disgustingly hot room.

Fortunately, this time you had the right idea to park in the garage like everyone else to avoid any other unwanted encounters, but unfortunately while it was nice to not be waterboarded on your walk, it wasn´t enough to stop said unwanted encounters from occurring.

Take right now, for instance.

As you stumble to your car in the blistering weather, your energy depletes faster and faster, causing you to be light headed. Practice was already tough enough in the sweltering heat, but after Damon's little scene you don't have any energy to even walk.

You crash blindly into your car, the metal of the doors burning your skin as you make contact with the handle. You hiss and jerk back, swaying slightly as your head fogs up. You can barely see, you feel like your clothes weigh a ton on you, so you slide down the vehicle and sit up against the tires, throwing your head back against the car and groaning. The idea of unlocking your doors and sitting in the seat where no doubt several temperatures higher will be settling on the dashboard and in the front row is nauseating.

Weather-2

You-0

You don't know the building well enough to know where a vending machine is, and even if you shot Graham a text, you don't have enough energy to wander around and scout for it.

And lo and behold, from a distance, a figure approaches. You squint as it draws nearer, and let out a laugh as the features come into familiarity.

The heat must be getting to you worse than you thought, because you´re certain you´re hallucinating Damon Albarn of all fucking people swaggering towards you, one hand holding his denim jacket over his shoulder, and a shit-eating grin on his face as he comes to stand in front of you.

All you can do is pant like a dog, looking up at him with unimpressed eyes.

¨Oi, G-String. ´Brought you some water.¨ he holds out a hand, and you choose to ignore the offensive nickname, insead noticing the large bottle in it, cold condensation covering its expanse.

Your eyes widen and you lick your lips unconsciously, holding your hands out for it.

Damon watches your tongue poke out and loses focus before snapping back to reality and moving his arm above your head. You pout and try to reach for it again, but he laughs and holds it even higher.

You glare and turn your head away from him, suddenly remembering how he embarrassed you earlier.

¨Go away. I don't want it anymore. You´re an asshole.¨ you mumble, perspiration hanging off your lip as you lick the salty beads away once again.

Damon´s eyes never leave your mouth as he listens to you and watches the pink appendage make its appearance again, and his mouth hangs open slightly unbeknownst to you for a second. You cross your arms and glare at the empty parking lot, silently willing him to go away.

He snaps back into focus yet again and shakes his head at you. ¨Oh come on love, I´m just teasing. You look like you´re about to die anyways, might as well make this your last meal-er, drink I mean.¨

¨I´m not taking anything from a complete dickhead who enjoys harassing women about their clothes. You know, for such a womanizer, you act pretty clueless about how comments like that would make a girl feel. No one else but you had an issue with it, or rather, had the audacity to point it out.¨ You cough at the last word, your dry throat and heavy head making it harder to talk.

He sighs and crouches down, balancing on the balls of his feet. He pops open the cap and gently turns your chin towards his face, much to your surprise. You´re genuinely too weak to protest, but when you look at his concerned face, eyebrows scrunched up and accentuating the lines on his forehead, you don't think you'd want to turn away even if you could.

He coaxes your agap mouth even more open by dragging a rough thumb down over your lips, and you obediently open your mouth, mesmerized by his eyes. His movements are soft and slow, as if you were a fidgety rabbit about to run off at the slightest touch. He scoots closer, right over in front of you as you simply gaze up at him, allowing him to pour cool water down your throat, quenching your bone-dry palate.

For a couple of seconds, water floods your mouth but all you can do is stare up at him. The light rays are reflecting off his back, casting a yellow glow around his silhouette and he almost looks like an angel. His hair is mussed as if he'd spent the day running his hands through the golden locks, and the scruff on his face peeks through soft-looking skin.

¨Swallow, or I'll really waterboard you this time,¨ he says lowly, chuckling a bit as he catches you staring so adamantly right in his face. You jerk back to consciousness and swallow hastily, accidentally choking on the gulp in your rush.

He laughs even more and lets go of your chin much to your disappointment as he adjusts himself to sit next to you, not seeming to mind the scorching car metal. The absence of his hand on your face leaves a cold, empty feeling in your heart despite the heated blush on your cheeks

¨You´ll burn yourself,¨ you mumble, lolling your head over to look at him.

But he looks straight ahead and shrugs casually. ¨Not any more than you.¨ You both sit in silence for a few minutes, occasionally sipping from the bottle he passes towards you and watching cars go by.

¨You didn't answer my question. Why do you harp on me in the studio? You act like a normal human being here.¨

Damon looks thoughtfully at a white sedan passing by, then speaks.

¨As I´m sure Graham has blabbed to you already, I´ve been having some...trouble with the missus, let's say.¨

You say nothing and raise a questioning eyebrow.

¨For the shitty attitude,¨ he mutters and swipes the bottle from your hand, taking a large swig himself.

¨And, like you said earlier, I am an asshole. Of course I´ll enjoy harassing pretty women over their revealing clothes,¨ he smirks and gives you a once over.

There it was again, pretty woman.

You scowl and get up to leave, but what he says stops you in your tracks.

¨Taz was lookin´ at you,¨ he says quietly, suddenly very interested in the now-empty bottle. ¨´Didn't like it, but I couldn't say anything to him. Graham likes him too much.¨

Huh. Maybe the pair of eyes you felt back in the room didn't only belong to Damon.

He cracks a small smile and looks up at you, his face adorably innocent and wide as he sheepishly admits, ¨I´m used to butting heads with blokes like him for women.¨

You jerk back up to your feet, brushing off any insinuation he was giving and pat his knee awkwardly, ignoring the fire now igniting once again in your chest.

¨Thanks for the water, I needed it. You might wanna move if you don't want to get run over by my car.¨ You reach down and pick up your case as Damon clambers to his feet.

He looks amused as you fumble for your keys, nervously turning the lock and sitting in the hot car, obviously eager to get away from his intimidating gaze.

¨I´ll see you next week, yeah?¨ You laugh breathlessly and roll your window down to call out to him.

He says nothing, but merely cocks his head at you, his eyes now obscured by the rose-colored glasses he puts over his eyes. He waves a little and watches as you drive away a little too fast.

But as it turns out, you don't see him next week.

******

It was just your luck that one of the cutest guys from your work asked you out on the very same week you had practice with the boys. You contemplated moving the date to another time, but...you deserved to have some fun time off too, right? It's not like it would make too much of a difference in your skill, anyways, you´ve gotten all the strings down and such.

So, you decide to go on this date. It goes well, the dude was cute, dorky, lacked a little pizzazz but nothing a bottle of fancy red wine and a night of movies couldn´t coax out of him. It honestly wasn't anything too big, you exchanged numbers and made plans to meet up again soon. After parting ways, you threw yourself back into the regular regime of practicing your violin and meticulously listening to the booth recording every night, just so you could perfect your part to a T.

The day came where you had to go back to practice, and you were ready, veins pumping with determination to make these last few sessions the best you´ve played yet. You texted Graham that you´d be there soon, and he gave you a thumbs up in return. When you finally arrived in front of the room, you were 10 minutes late. The boys were already playing, by the sound of the percussion booming outside the door. You grimace and take a deep breath, turning the handle in and hurrying inside the booth.

No one really spared a glance at you, so you assumed you were okay in terms of punctuality. You opened your case and started strumming your strings, counting the measures and beats until it was your turn. Damon´s voice rang out, melodious and airy as ever, dropping octaves and floating on soprano tones. Your bow moved across his words, accenting his tones and adding emphasis to his sorrowful song. And then, after a couple of minutes, it was done.

¨Alright you lot, pretty good for today. ´Specially you, Y/N, you caught up pretty quick, I expected you to slack behind but I'm actually impressed.¨ Graham flashed you a nervous grin and you beamed back at him in return.

¨Yeah, speaking of, why were you gone last week? I expected someone who makes below the poverty line would actually want to work for their money,¨ Damon chuckles a little meanly.

You feel your smile drop a smidge.

¨Well actually Damon, not that it's any of your business, but I went on a date.¨ You smirk at him, enjoying the way his mouth opens slightly and moves silently.

But he regroups quickly and glares at you. ¨None of my business? The deadline is only a few days away, and you´re whoring yourself out and going on dates? I guess you´re not as professional as Graham thought.¨

Everyone shifts uncomfortably, and blood rushes to your face, anger clouding your mind. Why was he being like this? He was fine the last time you saw him, you actually thought maybe he was going to change the way he addressed you.

Graham speaks up. ¨Damon. You´re overreacting man, I gave her the okay, and she played fine today. No harm done, seriously, there's no need for that kind of language towards her.¨

¨Actually, there absolutely is a need. If I knew you were going to invite a prostitute as our sub-in then I would´ve never agreed to have her here. Didn´t know you were so low on money Y/N, I would´ve spared you a couple pounds.¨ He sneers.

¨Damon!¨

You laugh bitterly and rise to your feet. ¨Oh that's rich, coming from the man who fucked half the continent just because he couldn't get over one girl. No wonder every real woman in your life including your wife wants to leave, nothing is ever good enough for you. Except heroin maybe.¨

The words leave your mouth before you can take them back, and there's a pin drop silence as if a bomb had been dropped. In a way, it kind of did.

Damo glares at you. Everyone is holding your breath, including you.

¨Get out.¨

¨Hey,-¨ Taz tries to gently interject but Damon throws the mic at him.

¨I said get the fuck out. You´re not practicing with us anymore, you can pack your shit and leave.¨

Tears brim at the corners of your eyes, and you choke out a small ¨Fine.¨

You hear Graham berating him behind you as you fly through the door, telling him that they need you, it's too late to change people, but the words jumble in your ears as the door slams shut. You don't hear what Damon says, if he even says anything, and you aren't interested in his comebacks right now.

It's only when you leave the car, tears streaming down your face in rage and embarrassment that you groan to yourself, your hands reaching an empty seat with one foot out the door-

You forgot your violin case.

************

It's nighttime.

The crickets chirp as you creep silently through the parking garage, the soft thud of your shoes echoing a lot louder than you wanted in the empty lot. The studio itself wasn't closed, but you were sure Damon must have informed the manager there not to let an ex-musician like you back in there.

Wearing a black hoodie and black pants was a smart move- you blended in with the shadows well. The doors weren't locked, and you hiss out a small ¨yesss¨ as you slip inside the mostly dark building. Needless to say, you were proud of yourself for navigating through the windings pitch-black hallways to your old booth.

Testing the handle lightly, you sigh out in relief when that too gives way. Unfortunately though, the second the door shuts behind you, you immediately stumble forward and fall.

The room is dark, darker than the other hallways so you can barely see your hands. The only source of light you´re granted is the dim red bulb on top of the booth door. And speaking of, that's exactly where you need to go...which proves to be harder when you keep bumping into random shit and cursing when you feel potential bruises forming on your shins.

Miraculously you stagger through the next door towards where you last sat, and blindly feel around the floor and chairs for your violin case. You feel nothing there, but panic starts settling in your heart when you can't find it.

¨Looking for something?¨

You scream and lurch backwards, knocking your head into some kind of stand. Groaning, you rub your head and hold a hand on your racing heart as you squint into the dim red room, placing the voice to the person.

¨D-Damon?¨

¨In the flesh sweetheart. ´Knew you'd come back for this, s´just my luck I came back to get it tonight so I could give it to you personally in case you wanted to be stubborn. But this is even better than I could´ve hoped.¨

You make out his silhouette in the obsidian abyss in front of you. He's sitting with knees spread on a chair, a few feet in front of you as he leans his head back on the wall. Your precious violin case is being held hostage in his arms, and it's the absolute love you have for the brittle instrument that propels you to your feet and moves you to get the hell out instead of interrogating him.

¨What, so you were just here the whole time listening to me falling around like an idiot?” You laugh incredulously, and you see the area of his shoulders move up and down.

¨Was pretty funny to watch, honestly. You sound cute when you curse.¨ He stands up to his fullest height now, the red light bouncing off his back, giving him a sort of demonic halo.

You knew it was actually time to leave when you felt those stupid butterflies in your stomach rise up again.

¨Right, well, I´ll be on my way then. Good luck with your song and whatever, I´ll just take the case...¨ You trail off as your extended hand is left in midair, no violin case reaching it.

He cocks his head at you. ¨Why are you in such a rush to leave?¨

You can´t help the scoff that escapes you.

¨Are you serious? You were such an absolute dickhead to me this afternoon, you said all sorts of horrible things to me, and you even fired me for Christ's sake! I want nothing to do with you, so could you please give me my case back so I can go?¨

He's silent for a moment before answering. ¨Are you done yet?¨

It isn´t just the light that's making you see red now.

¨Fuck you, honestly.¨ You whirl around and stomp towards where you guess the door is, ignoring the clatter behind you and bingo you locate the handle, but as soon as you turn it-

A hand reaches from behind you and pulls the ajar door shut.

¨Don´t go. I´m sorry.¨

You´re absolutely still as you feel him towering over you, his arm dangerously close to your midriff as his hand remains on the knob.

His voice is low, and you can feel him breathe against your neck, mere inches away. You can´t help the involuntary shiver that passes through you, and he feels it too, inhaling deeply when he gets close to your ear.

¨You smell so good.¨

¨Leave me alone, Damon,¨ you whisper, your voice catching in your throat from the overwhelming onslaught of emotions passing through you.

He breaths in and slowly lets his hand rest on your side.

¨I can't do that. You know why. You have to have known by now.¨

You tremble in his touch, yet allow his hands to wander down to your hip, the other coming around in a sort of hug to pull you closer to him.

¨We can´t.¨

¨Sure we can.¨

You can feel his erection bumping against your ass.

¨You´re not worth this.¨

¨I´ll make myself worth it.¨

And as soon as he latches onto the back of your neck, you´re like putty in his hands, a moaning mess as he sucks galaxy-colored hickies on your skin. You can feel yourself grow wetter as he shoves his hands up your shirt and teasingly pulls down the bridge of your bra, letting the weight of your tits fill up his hands appreciatively. He starts rolling your hardened buds in between his skilled calloused fingers, and you whine and throw your head back when you feel him rut against your ass, panting raggedly in your ear.

You rub your thighs together, desperate for some form of friction as he squeezes your tits, and then letting one hand ghost across the expanse of your stomach, down to brush against the rim of your panties. Damon chuckles meanly in your ear when you buck against the stilled hand over your mound.

¨You want this?¨ He lightly nips your ear. He smells like old spice and sandalwood.

You nod desperately, frustrated with him not giving you his thick fingers already.

But it's not enough for him. ¨No no, pretty girl, use your words now. I´ve barely touched you yet and you´re already moaning like a wanton little slut for me? And here I was thinking you weren't that easy.¨

You stop jerking your hips and blood rushes to your face at his insulting words. You try to move out of his grip, huffing and regretting the whole thing but he outright laughs now and spins you around, tugging you forward until your chest is slotted against his. You pout at him and look away, but he's quick to grasp your chin and pull you in for a rough yet sensual kiss.

Pushing you backwards against the wall, he deepens the lip-lock, tracing his tongue over your lips, nipping at the soft flesh and darkening his eyes when you whimper and look up at him.

He knows what he´s fucking doing when he again drops his hand under your pants and over your panties, his other palm wound up firmly through your hair. He pulls your head back and lets you breathe for a second from his kiss of death before he speaks again.

¨I didn't hear an answer, slut. Do you want this?¨ He leans forward until his nose brushes against your neck, flicking his tongue out to taste your saccharine flesh.

You tremble against his firm body when he pushes his pelvis against you, letting you feel how hard he is for you.

It doesn't matter anymore. Maybe he was right, maybe you were just an easy slut putting up a facade for him, but when his clothes erection grinds up against your pussy you can't care less.

¨Y-yes, yes, ´want you, please,¨ you pant, frantically gripping the back of his cropped hair as his head descends to mark your neck again.

¨What a good girl,¨ he whispers, finally allowing his digits to oh-so-slowly trace over your mound, pressing down harder when you jerk against him. He finds your wet clit and flicks it a few times, snickering when you gasp and moan. Your body writhes in place but he holds you literally between a rock-or, wall- and a hard place, preventing you from scampering off.

He drums his fingers against your folds, paying no attention to the way you grip his head tighter against you, silently begging him to go further.

But he relents eventually and retires from just pushing and prodding your folds, allowing his slicked fingers to slowly dive into your drooling hole. You whimper and bite back a string of curses when you feel him fill you completely, scraping against your walls for that one special spot.

His mouth moves off your neck and he rises to face you, a stupid smug grin on his wet lips, his eyelids lowered and trained on you. You flush at his lustful expression and gently push his head away, not wanting to accept his victory yet.

¨My fingers are literally fucking you right now, and you still won´t let me look at you? What, too embarrassed you couldn't continue being a stone-cold bitch for long?¨

You open your mouth to snap back but right at that moment he curls his fingers and grazes your G-spot, simultaneously grounding his wet palm against your clit.

With a loud gasp and the sluttiest moan you´ve ever made, you cum hard, your mouth open in a silent scream and your tongue hanging out like a bitch in heat as you do so. You fall forward against him.

You don't even need to look up to know that he has a shit-eating grin on his face.

¨What was that sweetheart? Sorry, ´couldn't hear you over those slutty moans. I think even the pornstars I´ve been with would give you a standing ovation if they heard what you just sounded like.¨

Your words are slurred as you curse nonsense at him, yet you´re still gripping his forearms to keep a hold on yourself. Your ears are ringing and you see spots as you come down from your climax, and surprisingly enough, Damon holds you close and doesn't let you slip down to the ground as you expected to when your knees start to give out.

Instead, he lifts you up quite easily and carries you over to a table in the corner of the room. You don´t know how he even navigates his way through the dimly lit room, but you suppose after almost half a lifetime in studios he knows his way around.

You offer no resistance as he sets you down gently and begins to lift your shirt off of your body. You manage to lift your arms weakly up in the air for easier access to stripping, but when he starts to kneel down to take your pants off you stop his hands at your knees and look at him with scrunched eyebrows.

He stops and looks up at you. His eyes aren't so darkened anymore, they´re wide and imploring, probably noticing your hesitation.

¨Damon, I...¨ You trail off as he maintains eye contact with you and slowly lowers his pursed lips to your calf, lightly pecking his way up to your knees and ensuring that you´re watching his every move.

Your breathing increases again as his pink appendage darts out, his saliva cooling on your exposed thighs. He sucks on the plush skin and turns his head upwards to face you.

You want to run your hands through his hair.

¨You have a wife,¨ You breathe.

¨Not for tonight I don´t.¨

Your voice gets caught in your throat at that. He positions his hands at the side of your knees, fingers curling around the hem of your pants in a second attempt.

¨Let me make you feel good, love.¨

His answer is in the form of your hand reaching for his collar and pulling him up into a standing position until he towers over your seated form, once again breath stolen in a heated kiss.

Damon fumbles with his zipper as you shove your pants off, fully ready for him now, your dampened panties solid evidence of your need for him.

He pulls his cock out and it bounces out, slapping up against his stomach.

You do a double take. The tabloids were right. He was absolutely huge.

It was disgusting almost, it was insulting really. How the fuck could he be that big? You lose count of how many inches he is when you start to get light headed, realizing with a jolt that he plans to put that monster inside you.

And fuck, why did it have to be so pretty too? Normally you wouldn´t use the word pretty to describe a dick, but fuck, that´s the only appropriate word that came to mind as you admired the white flesh as it mixed in with a dull pink flush turning into an angry shade of red as your eyes progressed up to his tip...which was soaked with precum, mind you.

He was neatly shaven everywhere, including his plush balls. No wonder he got to fuck half the continent.

Damon notices your gawking and smiles lazily, taking a fist around his prick and stroking lethargically up and down.

¨You gonna just stare at it all day or are you going to spread those cute legs for me?¨

Spoken like a true middle aged fuck-boyman.

You look up at him beseechingly, thoroughly intimidated by his length. He merely scoffs, winking at you when he wrenches your tightly closed knees apart.

It's almost like he falls into a trance when he presses his now-naked torso against your chest, when he slots himself between your legs and drags his tip through your sloppy folds and up onto your clit. His mouth falls open slightly and he moans when your juices coat his dick, making it slippery and easy to push the first few inches ever so slightly into your spasming cavern.

He can't help but want more, need more as he practically smothers his weight onto you, forcing you to lie back on the table and letting your legs dangle off the edge. He hunches over you and thrusts minutely into your pulsing folds, groaning when you whine and lace your fingers around his neck and tangle your legs around his back, dragging him impossibly close into you.

For a moment it´s just the sound of you two panting and moaning like inexperienced teenagers, and a zing of pride zips up your spine at the realization that Damon Albarn, one of the world's most renowned playboy is whining and humping against your pussy, reduced to nothing at your hands.

He takes your hands from around his neck and grips your wrists, forcing them above your head on the table. He leans down and kisses you, hard. You give him back the same energy when your hips move up and down along his length, pushing your inviting hole towards his eager and jumping dick.

¨Pretty little girl,¨ he murmurs against your lips, and you nip his bottom lip playfully in retaliation. He slowly starts to sink himself into you, and you practically purr at the feeling of his veiny member dragging against your sensitive walls until he stops.

You look at him questioningly, and blanch when you see the mischievous glint in his cobalt eyes.

¨I want you to count for me.¨

¨Count…?¨ You shake your head in confusion and he pulls out, making you groan in annoyance.

¨I want you to count every inch I put inside you. Unless your slutty mouth can't even do that? I'd be surprised if you couldn´t, you usually have so much shit to say.¨ His voice is low yet teasing, and a shiver passes through you when the rumble of his chest vibrates against your nipples.

¨F-fine, I´ll count.¨

He hums in approval and regroups, guiding his length into your awaiting pussy once again.

It´s almsot torture how slow he goes, and your toes curl at how vivid the sensation is at this pace.

You almost forget to do what he asks until he ducks his head down and teeths your bud.

¨Ah, fuck! One!¨ You yelp, writhing to get away from his lecherous gaze and hold on your poor tit.

He tuts and licks the swollen area until the pain subsides a bit, and then he continues to push.

¨T-two,¨ you moan and let your head fall back. It's unfair how tightly he´s holding your reins-you want him to plow you down, not take his sweet time in this punishment.

¨Damon, can´t you go any faster? Please, I want y-¨

¨-I didn't take you for a masochist, Y/N, but I´m happy to play around with these cute tits if you want to bitch more.¨

Your scowl is cut off when he suddenly shoves two more inches into you, and you mewl loudly at being filled so much.

¨Three! Four! Fuck, oh god, please,¨ you babble nonsense as he curses above you, his form shaking in an effort not to push all the way in.

¨Doing so good sweetheart, you´re almost halfway,¨ he smirks and you gape at him in disbelief.

Halfway?

Five, six, seven, eight, and nine go painfully slow, and by the time he´s fully sheathed inside you, plush balls pressed against your ass, you´re an incoherent, drooling mess.

Your hair is in your face, your cheeks are flushed, and your body bounces up and down as he begins to rock inside you, finally giving you what you want.

His name is chanted like an obscene prayer from your mouth as he grunts and shakes the table. Your legs are wobbly and unable to do anything except press him tighter against you to the point where he can barely move back. The skin of his stomach slaps against yours, his balls slap against the crevice of your ass, and your pussy practically sloshes with every stroke in and out.

He fists your hair with one hand and pulls your neck up to meet his searching lips, his other hand holds your wrists fast against the table. You want to touch him, you want to explore your body as he has conquered yours but he doesn't let you feel anything else apart from the rapid thrusts inside your battered body.

Damon switches positions and lifts the back of your knees up and pushes them forwards until they meet your chest. He lets his body weight rest on the back of your thighs as he pulls out and pushes back impossibly close inside you, closer than he did in missionary.

You sob with need as he plunges into you and reaches a higher spot than before, his tip grazing your cervix. He pounds into you, and you thrust your hips up to fuck back into him, calling out his name as if he were your god.

It´s a good thing the rooms are soundproof.

You feel your second climax comes when he paves way through your tight walls and batters your uterus. It doesn´t hurt so much as feel intense, and your choked moans become panting gasps when he brings a hand down to swirl his thumb over your aching clit.

¨You´re not going to meet with that prick from your work again, yeah? Say it. Say it if you want me to let you cum.¨ He could have been speaking an alien language for all you knew. Your poor addled brain didn't pick up anything except for the word ¨cum¨, and you were a goner.

¨Yes, yes, anything you say, anything you want, just please let me-¨

And oh he does.

It comes over you like a tidal wave, your mind going blank, your eyes seeing white as your legs shake from your earth-shattering orgasm. You feel like you´re going down a rollercoaster, and you never want to stop dropping.

Distantly, you hear him groan and say your name. You can feel pulsing in your filled walls, with what you assume is his ropes of cum. It feels like when you came, it practically squeezed all his cum out with your clenching.

He lets out a shaky breath and falls forward, his nose inches from yours, his breath puffing in your face.

Your eyes are glazed over, but you´ve never seen anything more clearly before.

Maybe Damon Albarn really was worth it.

#blur #damon x reader #damon albarn #damon albarn smut #britpop #90s damon #90s #smut #fluff #britpop smut #damon fluff #Damon Albarn #damon albarn x reader #Damon albarn smut #Damon albarn fanfic #Damon albarn fanfiction #blur fanfic #blur fanfiction

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quickdeaths · 2 years ago

Text

Akane's comment earned the faintest flinch from the Future Foundation agent. Likely, it wasn't intended in a particularly negative way, but to Shinobu, it seemed another way in which she was irreparably different from the rest of them, that her speech wasn't taken as a personal quirk, but rather indicative of some adherence to her organization's norms. "I regret that it comes across as uptight," they murmured. "That's not my intention. Speaking like this is simply how I was raised, and I hold politeness in high esteem." Even if, as everyone had already said, clinging to formality and politeness in a place like this was useless.

"I would appreciate it if you could take my way of speaking as a simple eccentricity, rather than a sign that I wish to enforce artificial distance between us." The same wasn't true, she imagined, for someone like Togami. In her brief dealings with the 14th Division's vice-head, she found him to be logical, well-considered, and largely unpleasant. Even if he aligned himself with Naegi over Munakata, they felt as though it was for empirical reasons, rather than any emotional interest or attachment to the remnants. Or, perhaps, anyone.

Sonia's comment elicited a small frown, followed by a nod. Shinobu had said as much, but while it had once seemed like Sonia was able to cut through her words to understand the meaning, that was something else that had changed. "It was a poor joke, evidently," they explained. "What I meant was that I have no intention of saying anything about your activities to my superiors. They haven't asked me to report on that sort of behavior, and I don't think it's worth reporting, even if they had." They shrugged, leaning back and looking up at the sky. After pulling away her cigarette, she pursed her lips and pushed a few smoke rings up into the air.

"Mmm." Sitting back up, Shinobu continued to smoke, at least feeling comfortable doing so given the other activities occurring only a short distance away. "It suits you." The Rocketpunch market... Surely someone at Future Foundation was responsible for stocking it. Perhaps Naegi and his adherents - they seemed the most likely to consider things like nail polish, rather than simple bare essentials. There were many things on the island for that purpose of easing the remnants back to life - what other reason could there be for things like movie theaters, bars, and an expansive library?

While Future Foundation members weren't forbidden, exactly, from taking advantage of those services, they were quite discouraged, in Shinobu's opinion. She took some interest in the library and the movie theater in particular, but hadn't yet visited them, both for the justified concern of being reprimanded by Togami or someone equally as grating upon her nerves, or the thought of unintentionally causing trouble for one of the remnants. If these things were deemed important for their rehabilitation, then it wasn't acceptable for a Future Foundation agent to occupy them when someone else might desire to use them.

Listening to Sonia's account of things, and nodding when she confirmed the occasional relaxation, Shinobu felt as though they had little to add. Voices in one's head was a relatable concept, but it felt inappropriate to speak of her own troubles beside two women who had much more to contend with. "I see. I'm glad that you have such opportunities, at least. You're all kept quite busy, it seems, but relaxation, in whichever form it takes, is rather important." So everyone said.

At the offers, she tilted her head from side to side, thinking, before taking a long, deep inhale of her cigarette, the embers flaring as it traveled up near the filter. Finally, when it was nearly entirely ashed, she blew a thin jet of smoke away from the other two, before depositing the spent remains into her carton. "I'm afraid my constitution is unusually poor, these days. Alcohol, and affecting substances, likely are a poor fit for me at present." She'd almost certainly get sick, or suffer some bout of paranoia or anxiety, reaping little of the relaxing benefits that Akane and Sonia enjoyed.

"Perhaps another time, if my body recovers. Though, I suppose that does make it easier to return to my room without getting lost or injured." Not that they made any move to leave. On the contrary, with their cigarettes stowed inside their jacket pocket, Shinobu moved their chair closer to the others. "However, I suppose if you're offering something less taxing, I shouldn't refuse." Looking to her hands, faintly squinting behind her glasses, Shinobu assessed her nails. They weren't pristine, in the way she remembered Sonia's being, but at least they weren't unsightly.

"It's been a long time since my nails have been painted." Certainly by Anzu. Shinobu hadn't often done them herself at that time, and as Seiko seldom wore polish either, covered as her hands were by her gloves, there's never been any at their shared apartment. "I appreciate the offer. I'll endeavor not to make it difficult, but I don't entirely remember the process." Although, if Sonia was handling it, she supposed that wasn't an issue. "And I don't especially have a preference on color." Black or red had been the traditional choice, and Anzu had sometimes played around with painting a spider lily on one or two fingers, but that hardly seemed relevant now. "Whatever color you have, or think would be suitable is fine."

For a moment, both women stared blankly at Shinobu. Either from the shock that she she seemed wholly uninterested in reprimanding them, or from the shock that she actually wanted to spend time in their company. Sonia gave a small shrug as she looked to Akane before putting the nail polish away in a small box, with only Akane's topcoat remaining as she took one of her tanned hands in her own, beginning to apply the clear layer atop the yellow.

"Yaguchi, do you have to be so uptight? With how you talk," Akane asked, offering Sonia her other hand as the latter poured herself a double shot of rum that she quickly downed before seeing to Akane's other hand. "We get it, if you're hating us for what we did, to not talk normally with us. But otherwise, there's no reason to be formal around us. Tropical island with a bunch of..us. If the rest of your Future Foundation friends aren't here, you can relax you know."

"I am glad you took my advice regarding your suit, though," Sonia cut in, setting the top coat aside before reaching for another bottle of clear polish, the base for her own color. "You would have roasted alive in that: even Kirigiri disregards use of a jacket when outside during the day." She reached for the joint next, bringing it to Akane's lips in a move practiced time and time again before indulging herself. With the distance she kept, it was unlikely that the newest member of Jabberwock Island's Future Foundation team would get much of a contact high. Probably for the best: Togami would have more words than usual during their next conversation, if she somehow corrupted one of their ranks.

"Yeah, only Togami insists on wearing the jacket and tie at all times!" Akane snorted, waving her hands erratically in the air. To dry her nails? To enjoy watching how they moved in the torchlight that lined the swimming pool area? A little bit of both. "The first time he got all red and nearly passed out was one of the first times I felt like laughing here!"

Sonia chuckled as Akane laughed. The man's need for constant formality, improvement, and generally being a pain in their (hers, in particular) asses annoyed them all to some degree: everyone except Kirigiri and Naegi, who seemed to accept it. "Legal status about anything is rather muddy here, we are not certain which country this island even belongs to anymore," Sonia explained, "But we have our ways of getting through our days and nights, most of them the Future Foundation does not care for and chooses to reprimand us at every turn. Some more than others, I suppose." She was one of the more consistent offenders, if only for the fact that the state of the world had her turning to coping mechanisms she had tried to cease before The Tragedy had even started. That was the thing about being royalty: a childhood was seemingly non-existent, in favor of adult responsibilities and adult ways of dealing with them. Holding one's liquor was practically a required royal skill to begin with. "The point is, as long as you do not run off to the rest of your lot to divulge our activities, you are welcome to stay."

As if the Future Foundation didn't have full run of the island anyway, while the former remnants worked to feed, clean, repair, and revive the others as much as they could. The latter was mostly Kazuichi and Hajime's jobs, the only ones who could make sense of the complicated machines that kept them both asleep and alive. The rest of them did as much of everything else as they could, and it had taken some time to convince themselves they deserved a break on occasion, and a treat, like Akane's neon yellow nail polish: "You think it looks good?" She grinned, wiggling the fingers on her right hand to show them off. "Before Hope's Peak, I know my family never could buy stuff like this unless I worked overtime! But that Rocket market, they've got lots of girly stuff like this. Sonia told me I should try this one!"

"The Rocketpunch market, yes," Sonia clarified as she leaned back on her lounge chair. For the first time in two weeks, she felt the tension dissipate from her shoulders and the constant screaming in her head quieting. Screams that weren't hers, never hers, but ones she remembered well. All too well: she'd been the cause, either by her own hands or by her orders. "The Future Foundation does not seem to care what we take from the market, with no currency to speak of here. And it is better than smoking on one's porch, or drinking alone in the Titty Typhoon. At least while there are more of us awake now, in the beginning...well, the echoes from the bar were one of the only ways of assurance that all of the voices were not simply in our heads. Or mine, at least."

Her nails now dry, Akane moved to pat Sonia's shoulder, understanding that hadn't been easy for her to admit. Something the former princess would have likely kept silent about if sober. Sonia smiled up at her, proud that she'd waited the appropriate time before making use of her hands and ruining the polish. This was probably their tenth attempt to ensure Akane stayed still long enough for it to set. Now, the former gymnast rifled through the hard plastic box Sonia kept the polish and various tools in, retrieving two matching foam separators for pedicures. "These feel weird! And squishy!" Akane giggled, the liquor and weed having their effect on her too. "What're you gonna use these for anyway? Foam brass knuckles?"

"Those are for your feet!" Sonia sputtered, laughing too as she took them gently away. "Or rather, my feet. And yes, we try to...relax some, when we are able. If you understand my meaning." Sitting up, she stuck the foam toe separators where they were supposed to go, before plucking a nail file, an emery buffer, a pair of cuticle clippers, and a bottle of pearly pale blue polish out of the box. The color of ice, or clouds, or both. As she buffed her nails, with far more dexterity than anyone should have after three shots of rum and several puffs, she glanced at Shinobu curiously. "Would you like your nails painted too? You should not be left out if you are to stay, and it is no intrusion. Unless you choose to enjoy yourself a different way?"

"You just gotta make it back to the Future Foundation rooms on your own, Yaguchi," Akane added, flopping back onto her own chair. "We aren't supposed to go into the Future Foundation building where you guys are living. So don't get too messed up if you want to drink and smoke with us."

#morethanaprincess #c; the sun-slaying arrow #v; the brink of despair #alcoholism tw #drugs tw

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