#a wrench to throw into the mix! bastard

[gravesung]

(rosé vc) i present to u... the ex

haruto was a senior in high school when chiaki was a freshman, so the relationship was ethically rocky at best to begin with. he was working as a T.A. for her history teacher; where the school's staff turned a blind eye to the bullying she dealt with, he intervened. which. for a teenage girl, that was literally all it took for her to fall head-over-heels.

dude's hard to read. even for Me as the writer. he didn't know what he wanted, and the power dynamic didn't concern him, so he kind of went back and forth between giving chiaki attention and icing her out, acting like he was going to accept or return her feelings and then rejecting them, and it left her confused and hurt most days. but she never really had enough confidence to confront him about it, instead letting herself be strung along by the only person in the damn school who seemed like he cared about her. and he... did...? in his own fucked up way? but he's really really out of touch with his own feelings and did not want to handle the consequences of making an actual DECISION. god forBID.

eventually, it was chiaki who broke off... whatever it was between them. a few kisses, a few dates. it just wasn't worth the emotional turmoil, and she finally had an out — she'd been recruited to jujutsu high and was able to leave it all behind.

they'd find each other again later — haruto isn't a sorcerer so she can't talk about where she's been all these years, but chiaki is unfortunately still susceptible to his avoidant-attachment-style bullshit. yes he has a girlfriend now. yes he would cheat on her and/or break up with her depending on whether chiaki knows or not.

[wickedmage4106]

Stripping into Dangerous Situations Chp.14 AlphaDoffyxOmegaOC

Summary: Your secret job as a stripper, while your real job pays you barely nothing. Throw in a mix of secret side hustles, and the Devil soon takes interest in you. But be careful, as all things come with strings attached. Throwing a huge wrench in you life, and the Devil comes in to make an offer you want to refuse. But how delicous is the offer the Devil is making?Will you take the deal?

Story Plot, Eventual Smut as Story progresses (none at the moment to build up to), 18+ due to mention of drugs, violence, stripping, abuse, and posioning. Alpha/Omega verse in Modern One Piece tale, bit of a twist on my end. Animal ears and tail, no human ears.

Also on AO3 and Fanfiction.net, same name here for my accounts I post at.

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There is a warning for my readers, this chapter will have some dark themes of mentioning alcohol abuse, trauma, self-harm, and mention of suicide. If any of these themes are hit too close to home, please seek help. I hope I do not cause any harm to my readers, which is why there is a warning when I have dark themes in my chapters.

Be safe everyone and read on.

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I stood next to Doflamingo with most of the Family that worked at the company as we stood in the lobby with all the employees. There was extra security in the building now since the incident the other day. I didn’t ask him how he found the guy that Pearla hired as I didn’t want to be involved with that side of the business. Better to not know as it was better to lie if caught and had to take a lie detector test. Doflamingo was in an all-black suit which matched the darkened mood he was in. Wasn’t even wearing his pink coat so his presence was just as intimidating to everyone.

“As you know yesterday there had been an incident that destroyed four main items for the Winter collection,” Doflamingo’s tone was low. Everyone as I watched was worried and scared, and some wondering what is going to happen. “In all departments there will be extra security, including new cameras in the departments. You will leave your badges with the security guards when you are going to lunch. You will be given cards to access the elevators to the lobby if you wish to smoke, and to the cafeteria area for lunch. This is not up for debate.” Whispers amongst the workers erupted as the crowd was concerned with the changes that had happened. I was particularly interested in Pearla’s expression as she stood to the back trying to hide herself, though poorly. She was biting her fake nail trying to look concerned, but her eyes held fear. Bet she was frustrated about all the changes happening that seemed to be screwing with her own little schemes she has planned. Good, let’s have her squirm because in time once I figure out how much she has stolen, her family history that I feel something is off. I will make sure she falls down hard from the pedestal she thinks she deserves to be on. Her eyes locked with mine, I couldn’t help but smirk which seemed to irritate her more making my silently chuckle.

“Effective immediately, there will be no overtime unless I approve of it. Everyone leaves at the scheduled time, and if you have to stay late then you will have security in the room with you. Now, get to work,” Doflamingo’s voice announced loudly before walking off as I followed him with the family to his office for a meeting he was going to have.

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“DAMNIT! DAMNIT! DAMNIT!”

Pearla was kicking the bathroom door she was gripping in her heels letting her frustration out. Pearla, being beyond pissed wasn’t going her way, he paid good money for that bastard to sneak in and mess up that Katarina’s work. It was supposed to appoint her to help recreate the dresses she worked on, but she was still denied on the project. She was even angrier when Bunny smirked at her while Doflamingo was speaking.

‘That no good bitch! She knows something and everything is fucking up because of her!’ Pearla hissed in her thoughts, slamming open the bathroom door to grip the sink tight.

Looking up at the mirror, her perfect image was broken even if she was glamorously dressed. Pearla didn’t care, she could pull it back, but her temper was still filled in her eyes.

‘That bitch needs to go, I need to get back where I was, where I deserve to be.’

Fixing her long silvery white hair, outfit, and lipstick from her clutch chain purse. Pearla turned from the mirror to her desk she hated. ‘Bunny, you are going to regret coming here.’

Opening the bathroom door, she stomped off to her desk, coming up with a new plan.

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Returning to my office from Doflamingo’s meeting I made me a cup of tea from the set that Doflamingo got for me in my own office. He had discussed that the security he hired was part of his special underlings in secret he hires to make sure if they see anything they stop it. Even on my floor I could see the cameras in every corner of the room but not in my office. He knew that I already had one but since I found most of the evidence in the storage room, and Doflamingo’s trust knowing I didn’t need any extra in my office. Gladius with Buffalo along with Baby 5 whom I was shocked to see working security. She practically jumped and hugged me when I walked into the room. It wasn’t hard to calm her down, but Doflamingo made it clear she has to stay in the security room helping watch over the cameras. She didn’t like it, but it was fine, I knew Baby 5 could be manipulated to do the task when stating we needed her to do that.

Sitting down at my desk, I went over the documents for the coming quarter review in the next week. With the Winter collection main pieces getting destroyed, Doflamingo was no in the best of moods. Making sure that the workers who had worked on the dresses that were messed up remade, giving only certain people to stay late fixing the mess Pearla had made. I said that Pearla is going to act up again and probably at me since I was the one pulling the two apart. Katarina was not at fault, but both had a serious talking to by Doflamingo after they cleaned the mess up which took them from what I heard was three hours. Machvise was going to lock up the departments with guards standing by before opening, lunchtime, and closing. The Family wasn’t happy that some would be home later, but things needed to be tighter.

Doflamingo had the people coming to fix up the garage, probably found where the guy got in to make sure there would be no more break ins. Either way, things were going to get messy.

Knock! Knock!

Looking up, I see Amelia at the door to wave her in with some files in her hand as she walked to my desk.

“I have the reports, and the detailed list of the attendees at the Gala tonight at the Brooklyn Paramount,” Amelia spoke handing me the items I asked for. Tonight I was going with Doflamingo to a Gala tonight as his business partner/date for a party one of his clients is thrown a Silent Auction. A classic fundraising event in which guests place bids on items you’ve procured. But, unlike live auctions, there is no auctioneer running the show. Bidders browse, bid on, and compete to win their favorite silent auction items and packages using mobile bidding or fundraising software. When time’s up, the highest bid wins the item, and the organization receives the proceeds. From what I can understand, Doflamingo is going to socialize with people as most will want to talk business with him, gaining new clients, greeting current clients, and networking which I will be helping. Either way, I knew of this event in advance like I told Doflamingo and would be ready since I bought a new dress for the event. It was going to be tons of rich people, celebrities, people taking pictures, so it was going to be an extremely lavish party which is why I wanted to study the guests list before I go.

“Great, this will help me when I meet with these people,” I replied, opening the folders looking down at the list as she left.

Flipping through the pages of the names that were going to be there I stopped at one name: Pearla Snow with Daphne’s name which I can see, including Pearla’s mother: Rhea Snow. This will be interesting. Pulling up google, I typed in Rhea Snow to see if anything pulls up with a photo to see what she looks like. Yes, here we go. Rhea Snow was a tal woman like her daughter looking elegant with a delicate feature besides some age lines by her eyes which looking closely were under her make-up. Hair was black unlike her daughters or husbands, which is strange as black hair is usually stronger in genes to appear. White is rare but the gene pool would have to be stronger than black. Strange indeed. Rhea’s eyes were icy blue which the family has so that is common in the family with pale skin. From what I can see Rhea has degrees in Education, Business, and Arts. Working with multiple schools providing funds for art, music, and theatre in both public and private schools. She is big in making sure school systems are well provided for under privilege kids, and helping with scholarships. In with the country club type, great at golf, and a book club. Though with pictures with her family at events looks as if she is happy but also withdraw.

Something is going on with the family for her to look so unhappy but alone at other events seems to be more alive than with her family. Especially if Daphne is ridiculously close with Pearla. Maybe if I can get a word in with Rhea at the party without those two brats around, talk to her. Not to be friends but if Doflamingo is going to take down Pearla and her father, Rhea may not be in on the scams. Either way, this event might get messy.

Sounds like fun!

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Work dragged on but I was happy I was able to leave so I could an hour early to head home so I get ready for the gala. It didn’t start until 9 so I had three hours before Doflamingo was going to pick me up. I had already informed him about the names on the list going to be there that could cause ‘problems.’ Doflamingo agreed if anything happens to have my side, if Pearla or Daphne causing drama at the event. Either way I was able to come home to eat some left-over shrimp I made with some veggies. Once I ate, I got ready with the dress I picked out. The dress was a black Velvet Fish Tail Cocktail Dress with the halter top ties around my back in a bow exposing my back where it stopped under where my breast would be. There was a slit that went up to my midthigh on the right, so I had on sheer black panty hose with black flower pattern on them. Attached to the top were attached to the back on my neck where it was tied in multi-layers falling over my shoulders were these elegant, jeweled chains with white rhinestones in them to my elbows. Elegant and classy for events like this. Some black five in heels that were in silk with ribbon ties around my ankles.

Picking out a pair of black mesh tulle opera gloves to wear which I had from my stripper days. I still had things I saved which were still good for some uses but mostly the gloves I liked to use in some of my acts. Plus, I bought some in bulk when I would throw the gloves for the men to keep, but some were still nice. Even the fake jewelry was still nice to use, look real enough but I’m not used to splurging high end jewels. Not my style, this dress alone was only $150. The earrings I was wearing were just some simple fake diamond studs in my double piercing ears I have. No necklace, but I do have some rhinestone cuff bracelets to wear. My hair was half up in a high ponytail with the rest down, gave some strands of hair some extra curl to bounce as I walked with several falling around my face. Makeup was a glittering smokey eye with some pink simmer in the inner corner of my eyes to help my icy blue eyes to glow against the makeup. People always seemed to stare and awe with how bright they can seem so bright. Use the assets you have to draw them in, my motto when I was a stripper, and even in business. Eyes can be the most expressive, though I can understand why Doflamingo hides his. Shaking my head, I leaned close to my mirror applying my French pink lipstick that has a nice shimmer to the color.

~Sip the gossip, drink 'til you choke. Sip the gossip, burn down your throat. You're not iconic, you are just like them all~

Ugh, I rolled my eyes closed my lip stick before moving to my bed where my phone was. I had Gossip by Manskin as Doflamingo’s ringtone. I even changed his name to “Flamingo-Ass”.

Swiping, I put the phone to my ear, “Yes?”

“I’m downstairs, are you ready?” I could hear his voice, still was irritated from today.

“I am, just need to grab my clutch purse and I will be down,” I hung up on him before he could answer. The clutch was on a long silver thin chain, the clutch was layered black silk fabric that flaps over. There is a small latch that helps keep the clutch closed while wearing it where it would rest against my hip.

Putting my ID, phone, lipstick, my smaller vape pen (I know I might need it), and some cash for the bar with a few of my business cards to give out if I meet any people who would like to invest in Doflamingo’s ‘business’. Grabbing my keys to lock my door I headed downstairs. Walking out of the door I could see Doflamingo leaning against the car smoking a cigarette looking to the right with the night air cooling my body. Doflamingo looked at me as I was walking down the steps to look stunned as his cigarette fell from his hand at his lips.

I stopped, “What? Do I look bad?” I looked over at myself then back at him with my hands out confused.

“What! No, you look beautiful!” He spoke rush tone still shocked stepping towards me looking me up and down. “Literally took the breath out of me Bunny, you look stunning.” I blushed feeling flustered even though he always says this. I must be losing my edge. Shaking my head I stepped down to him, “I always look beautiful to you Doflamingo.” He grinned leaning slightly down with his hand out, “That’s because you are Bunny. It is a gift to see you shine like this.” Damn, boy knows how to flatter.

I snorted a laugh under my breath taking his hand, “Uh-huh sure, now let’s go. We have business to attend too.” His large fingers wrapped around my hand, warm in his grasp with his grin widening, “That we do.”

Doflamingo helped me in the car with Lao holding the door for us before closing it to drive us to the event.

“Here,” I looked at Doflamingo who handed me a magazine with the event name on it.

“What’s this?” I took the magazine opening it to see pictures with the people who planned this event.

“This is what is at the Silent Auction Gala, they send it out to let those attending to know what is being auctioned off during the party. Thought you might want to take a look to see if anything you might like,” Doflamingo explained while I flipped through reading the descriptions of the event.

“Oh, how nice of them to send this,” I remarked not too impressed with some of the items.

Some jewelry, art, tickets to certain concerts, celebrities to spend a day with, expensive spa days at resort that seemed extremely costly. Many more items as the book was nearly fifty items that are being auctioned off. Wait.

“Did you auction yourself off?” I looked at him appalled.

He snorted, “No, I did not. I put a auction bid in for anyone who wins gets first pick of my Winter Collection before others can get their hands on it.”

“It’s for fifty-thousand dollars to start the bid off!” I exclaimed at the starting bid number he put in.

“Yes, and that bid will go to my pocket and half of the man who sent the auction pocket,” Doflamingo explained chuckling feeling proud. “I’ve done this for eight years; it gets pretty high in the bidding war with others.”

“I bet,” I grumbled, flipping to the next page before stopping. “No way.”

“What?”

I pointed at the picture of the man. He was tall about six feet with black wavy hair with some pushed back while in a tailored suit used when playing in a large grand orchestra holding a violin. Black cat ears and tail, his eyes a piercing green with sharp features with a black goatee. Athletic build with broad shoulders, look smug in the picture.

“This is Andre Devereux,” I could sense Doflamingo leaning over to look at who I was looking at. “My mother used to play with him. I didn’t think he would auction himself off like this.” “Were they close?” Doflamingo’s voice was soft, almost concerning to me.

I shook my head, “No, Andre hated my mom as she always got First Chair when playing and hated how she took off and he didn’t. I remember that he often would argue with my mom and the conductor about how all the solos were given to her. Guy is an ass.”

“Haven’t heard of him before.” “He isn’t worth the attention, just a dick trying to make his way now that my mother is gone,” I hissed flipping the page not wanting to see his ugly mug.

We continued to ride in silence the rest of the way until pulling up to the building where there were multiple photographers. Doflamingo got out first before helping me as I left the magazine in the car. Keeping my hand firm around Doflamingo’s hand as the lights were making it hard to see from the flashes. I felt his hand hold mine tight helping guide me unlike him who has his glasses to shield him from the light. Finally, we made it in, I let out a breath of air I was holding while Doflamingo lead to the side as I blink my eyes fast with all the black dots in my eyes.

“Are you alright?” Doflamingo titled my face up to him looking worried inspecting me.

“Fucking hate that shit, can barely see with all he black dots in my eyes,” I replied, eyes moving around fast. “I hope this doesn’t trigger my headaches; I don’t need that right now.” I squeezed my eyes tight before looking down then back up, “Their going away just give me a minute.” “Bunny, are you sure you’re alright? We can go?” I shook ym head at his words holding my hand up. “I’m fine, I’m fine it just takes a second for the dots to go away. Besides we have work to be done, leaving now would cause a scene,” I replied looking at him.

His head was titled before sighing standing straight looking serious, “Bunny if the headaches start let me know, the music is going to be loud but if it gets worst, I need to know.” “I understand that Doflamingo, and I will as I’ve told you all the ones I’ve had per what it says in my contract with you. Chopper, Perona, and you are the only ones I talk about my condition since I used to poison myself,” I pinched the bridge of my nose as I did not want to argue right now. “I know I haven’t had any serious effect since I stopped-“

“But I also don’t need you having a brain aneurysm which is why I need to know if one starts to form if it gets worse Bunny. That is what your doctor told you, and is why the nose bleeds happen with some of your migraines,” he grunted out displeased.

“And you have been informed every time, now drop it. I’m not in the mood to argue with you tonight,” I snipped at him under my breath before walking around him. “Let’s go, we have clients to meet.” “Fine,” Doflamingo grunted, holding his arm out as I took hold walking with him to the party.

The place was packed with people dressed up in a high-event club as the music was loud, but people were talking even louder to be heard when talking to whoever they were with. The bar was packed with people with about seven bartenders including staff with trays of drinks walking around. Lights were down with smaller lights decorated around the hall. Definitely feels like a club scene for the rich to afford. Several tables on the side with people gathering at of large posters of the items being auctioned off, knowing putting the real stuff would be stolen with this many people here. I walked with Doflamingo as several people walked up, I let go of Doflamingo’s right arm while he shook hands with the people. I smiled when I was introduced, his business partner shocking most. All the same talk about how Doflamingo never took a partner, so the chatting began with my smarts to impress these men.

Smarts and beauty can be a deadly weapon when used right, aren’t I right ladies.

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Two hours went, I was sipping some white wine walking as I looked at the posters on the tables set up for them. Doflamingo was off wherever he was with people he knows, I had already handed out several cards to people who knew me from the trial and some about the newest partner of Doflamingo’s wanting to ask about becoming a client. Easy to deal with so far, if I can charm men at the strip club to get their money, I sure can do it in a place like this. So far, I hadn’t experienced any annoyances yet.

“Well, if it isn’t the hooker!”

I rolled my eyes; damn I spoke too soon.

Turning to see Pearla all glammed up in a glittering floor length mermaid ballgown, heavily adorned with sequin design all over the dress to the floor costing more than what I was wearing. A while feathered shall hanging off her shoulders, necklace wrapped around her neck of diamonds for a queen with earring to match, bracelets, and just screaming she has money. Pearla’s hair was curled looking like she was star on the Red Carpet, make-up glammed up of silver and blue with dark red lipstick on. Behind her seemed to be more glammed up women, maybe her friends dressed one dressed in black/gold attire, the second in a high slit red velvet dress with gold jewelry, and the third being a sequin teal satin floor length gown adorned in silver and gems.

Ugh, this must be her click.

My left arm under my right as I held my glass looking unimpressed, “What do you want Pearla? I have no time for trash.” Irritation was immediate on her face until her friend in red spoke up, “Oh, please! The only trash here is you! We don’t need some hooker here!” “Oh sweetie,” I titled my head to the side mockingly. “If you think insults like that could hurt me, you got another thing coming. And it is stripper to correct you seeing you are the one dressed like a hooker here.” “You bitch!” red one shouted.

“Again, I’ve been called worse. Pearla control your pets, I’m your boss and your actions here can affect your employment if you keep acting up,” I stared at Pearla sneering at me.

“Trash like don’t belong at Doflamingo’s side, I am better fit to be at his side!” Pearla snapped pointing at herself. “Pearla you are a spoiled brat, and even Doflamingo can see through your sickly-sweet act which is why he never touched you,” I shot back smirking as her face grew red.

“Oh please, you stole Pearla’s job at the company, we all know that!” the teal girl jumped in now. Again, Pearla has been spinning lies making her the victim.

“I didn’t steal anything; Pearla was told by Doflamingo that I was hired, and she threw a hissy fit like a child. You rich girls obviously lack any common sense,” I rolled my eyes sipping my wine watching as these girls were losing their temper at my words.

“Fuck you, you are just some stripper who got lucky! Just damaged goods is what you are, why would anyone want you now?” now black and gold chimed in.

My lids lowered on my eyes causing her to flinch when I grinned wickedly.

Tilted my head to the side, “Then why does Doflamingo want me if I’m damaged goods?”

Pearla’s expression darked with anger hearing that, causing me to chuckle darkly stepping forward to her getting close to her face staring Pearla deep into her eyes whispering for her to hear, “Doflamingo spent months trying to get me on his side, now that he has me, he wants me even more than you. Seems like you lose, especially when I find the money you stole.” SLAP! My head whipped to the side when Pearla slapped me, the stinging pain radiating like fire on my cheek. “SHUT UP YOU WHORE!” Pearla screeched. “YOU KNOW NOTHING!”

I stood up finger gently touching my cheek, my eyes snapped to her coldly causing her to look fearful at my gaze now that my face was voice of emotion. I cracked my neck to the right, moving the glass to my left hand before I quickly punched Pearla in the face. She fell back as her friends caught her screaming as I walked away as a crowd started to form while Pearla clenched her face, probably bleeding. I quickly located Doflamingo making a B-line to him before grasping his arm tight making him stop talking to look down at me.

“Bunny what’s-“before he could finish his hand went to my face. “The fuck happened to you!” His voice tight, hissing through his teeth getting closer to inspect my face. “We are about to have a problem,” I spoke, voice still pissed from my encounter with Pearla.

I saw Doflamingo’s head snapped up to the commotion where he could see Pearla crying, and screaming as her nose was bleeding. His head snapped to me, growling, “What happened?” “Bitch slapped me after I insulted her when she insulted me first with her friends, so I hit her back after she slapped me,” I hissed out, growling when he pressed his hand on my cheek. It hurt like hell; I didn’t need him putting pressure on it now.

“YOU LITTLE SLUT!”

“There is the problem,” I muttered for Doflamingo to hear as we both turned to see Daphne storming over to me pointing at me looking pissed. There behind her was Pearla and her friends holding Pearla up while she cried holding napkins to her bleeding nose. Music stopped as everyone was now staring at the commotion going on.

Daphne, in her champagne gown heartline swaying around her looking glammed up like Pearla sneering angrily at me. She went to slap me, but Doflamingo caught her hand from standing behind me in his towering height.

“Let go of me you bastard!” Daphne yelled, trying to pull herself free.

“Don’t you dare touch Bunny,” Doflamingo’s tone was deadly, tossing Daphne back making her stumble but still pissed off as she continued to shout.

“That fucking hussy slapped Pearla! She did nothing wrong! I knew you were going to be trouble bitch!” Daphne yelled, fuming, pointing at Pearla then at me.

“She insulted me first and slapped my first, she got what she deserved if she is going to attack someone first,” I pointed at my cheek feeling it already swell up. “Do you think I did this to myself?” “That’s a lie! We saw everything!” the red on shouted pointing at me.

“Yeah! You hit Pearla first!” now the teal one chimed in. “I only spoke to the truth to Pearla, you all were the one calling me trash and a hooker,” I retorted back calmly.

“Because you are trash! You are a disgusting stripper! A fucking Gold Digger! I don’t know why my husband praises you!” Daphne yelled, voice getting horse with her screaming.

I smirked at her making her more pissed off, “Maybe that is because he recognizes talent which you don’t have.” There was a bunch of “Oooh’s” from the crowd, some putting their fist to their mouth impressed by the insult. Daphne obviously wasn’t having it, her face was turning even redder before going to grab me again to attack before getting slapped herself making Daphne stumble to the side. I was shocked as Daphne and Pearla when Rhea slapped Daphne looking deeply disgusted by their behavior. Rhea looked stunning in a beautiful black satin gown with a sweetheart neckline with long caped sleeve that slit open at her elbows falling down to the floor like her dress. Thick black choker with diamonds on it, hair neatly pulled up into a tight high bun with her black wolf ears sticking out at the top folded back with diamond drop earring in. Dark makeup that makes her white skin glow with deep dark red lipstick on.

Daphne looked up stunned that she was slapped, “The hell Rhea! You hit me!” “And you are making a disgusting scene Daphne, have you no shame,” Rhea’s voice held firm glaring at Daphne.

“Mother!” Pearla called out for her mother before shrinking under her mother’s gaze.

“Shut your mouth Pearla, I am deeply disappointed in you as well. You know better than to act this way in public,” Rhea snapped back. She turned to me and Doflamingo bowing slightly with her hands clasped over her stomach, “I am sorry for my daughter and Daphne causing you trouble Miss Sinclair, and Sir Doflamingo.” “Mother what are you doing?!” Pearla shrieked. “The hell Rhea! You are apologizing to this tramp and bastard!” Daphne shrieked as well before Rhea spun slapping Daphne again on the left side of her face now. “SHUT YOUR MOUTHS!” Rhea yelled, fuming at the two. “Since before we left the house, all you two and your friends Pearla plotted to humiliated Bunny on baseless grounds! I will not stand by and let you create chaos you had already planned to do!” The group Rhea was yelling out shrunk into themselves as everyone was watching the scene unfold. I noticed many holding their phones out recording everything going on.

“But mother, she stole-“ “Bunny didn’t steal anything Pearla!” Doflamingo exclaimed, growling from his throat as Pearla paled and others around us. He pointed at her, “I am tired of your fucking countless plotting, lies, and now assaulting your boss! I will have none of it! You’re FIRED!” “NO! PLEASE DON’T!” Pearla collapsed on the ground begging as tears fell from her eyes.

“Get her out of here! You too Daphne!” Rhea shouted, pointing at the door.

Pearla’s friends had to drag Pearla out as she was kicking, screaming in her begging, and cries with Daphne walking away holding her face glaring at me and Rhea.

“I would like to speak with you privately, if you would please hear me?” Rhea turned asking me as I looked at Doflamingo who was still fuming, chest breathing heavy.

“fine,” Doflamingo grounded out before Rhea turned as we followed her.

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Rhea took us to a private area away from the crowd that soon when back to the party, now gossiping about what happened. I sat on the leather couch waiting for Rhea to come back as she went to get me ice. Doflamingo was sitting back, his arm on the back of the couch behind me, his lips pressed against his knuckles still fuming. I don’t know why, but I put my finger on his leg giving it a light squeeze rubbing my finger on his thigh hoping it would calm him some. I never give soft touches to him, knowing what he does but I know with what happened things are going to get messy because of me. I’m not used to comforting men, not after what happened with Law, but I feel like I need to try. His anger isn’t good for him, after what he did to Enel, I don’t need him killing the Snow Family in cold blood just yet.

Doflamingo’s hand grasped mine as he brought it up leaning down to his lips close to me, voice cold in a whisper, “Touching me isn’t the best option right now Bunny.” I stared up at him anxious whispering back, “I was trying to calm you down, your scent is strong and bitter, but I also know your temper isn’t good for you. Especially right now with the mess I just made.” I just stared at his lenses, able to see this close his good eye looking me over, but mostly at my cheek. Inhaling and exhaling through his nose, his hand behind me gently grasping my head to press his lips to my hairline inhaling the scent of my hair. My eyes were shut tight, flustered by his actions making me tense up.

“This isn’t your fault, Bunny; something was bound to happen. I’m not mad at you so calm down. Your own scent is too lovely to be this sour,” his lip moved across my skin talking low, no hint of anger in his voice made my lip quiver as I wanted to cry.

The hell is wrong with me, just fuck why am I getting like this?

“Shhh, breathe for Bunny it is ok,” I sniffled shivering at his calming tone nodding taking in a deep breath in and out.

He pulled away my eyes, opening, looking up at him overwhelmed as my emotions from the anger began to wash over me. Doflamingo looking worried for me till his head snapped to the side seeing Rhea as his cold expression was back. He releases my head gently placing it behind my body, his large hand resting on my shoulder feeling his thumb rub against my skin, guess trying to calm me now. Rhea handed me the bag of ice as I gently placed it on my cheek, I flinched from the pain, but it was needed for the swelling to go down.

Rhea sat down on the other couch legs crossing sitting straight looking exhausted from the whole ordeal.

“I am sorry for my daughters’ actions, even Daphne’s was out of line,” Rhea spoke, I can hear the exhaustion in her tone.

“I highly doubt that Mrs. Snow,” Doflamingo spoke harshly. “Your daughter is a nightmare, I should have never hired her in the first place if it wasn’t for your husband.” Rhea sighed heavily head dropping slightly, “I blame my husband for that and Daphne’s influence. Let me get straight to the point.” “Please do,” I stayed silent listening and observing.

“I am about to divorce my husband,” I stared at her shock while Rhea continued. “I am tired of everything they have been doing, and frankly Stefan is losing money from his idiot dealings at the company. I’ve been paying the bills and debt but frankly, I also found out that you have been looking into our finances Mr. Donquixote.” I felt Doflamingo’s hand twitch and flex on my shoulder, I looked at Rhea speaking, “Pearla has been stealing from Doflamingo’s business. I already know she has taken over $100,000’s, and I plan to find out how much she stole to sue her and your husband.”

“Bloody hell,” Rhea cursed under her breath fingers pressed against her forehead looking more stressed. Sighing looking back at me, “What do you need? I am tired of cleaning up their messes, I haven’t even mentioned to anyone but my lawyer about the divorce.” “You are willing to send your husband to jail and your daughter?” Doflamingo questioned, he wasn’t exactly thrilled to her Rhea give him anything without strings.

“They dug their own graves, and my wealth is separate from their own thanks to a prenup I have with Stefan,” Rhea replied calmly. “I used to love my husband even with the arrange marriage, and my daughter.” “But now?” I asked.

Rhea looked to her lap thinking, “The last four years have been a nightmare, I practically live at my office, charity work, and in my own separate room in the mansion. Frankly, I am done but I have very little evidence against my husband as he won’t allow for a divorce to happen.” “You need dirt on him,” Doflamingo replied to Rhea this time.

Rhea nodded, “I know you are good with digging up graves Mr. Doflamingo, I also know you have a contract with Stefan about the shipping yard you have your good shipped too. I help Stefan with the business, and he doesn’t know I own most of the stock shares let alone most of the board is on my side. I will give you the shipping yard, if you can find dirt on my husband.”

Oh shit! My eyes widened when I heard this with my mouth dropping some. I looked at Doflamingo who was staring at Rhea calmly, probably thinking this over.

“I will give you whatever you need to figure out the amount Pearla has stolen from you, including Stefan, but I want to walk away clean from them before you do anything,” Rhea added.

“I will think about it,” Rhea nodded at Doflamingo’s words.

Rhea stood up as I followed Doflamingo to stand as I followed Doflamingo who walked away from this meeting. I made one last look at Rhea who was standing there calmly before we disappeared around the corner.

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The ride back to my apartment was too quiet for me, even when he walked me back to the apartment, he stood there silently with his hands in his pant pockets while I put the now melted bag of ice in the sink.

I bit my lip weakly speaking, “I’m sorry.”

“What do you need to be sorry for?” Doflamingo asked.

I turned to him holding my arm looking down, “I caused this mess, and now with Rhea.” “I told you it is not your fault Bunny,” Doflamingo’s tone was tighter hearing his steps to me while I was getting upset.

“But it is! I shouldn’t have lost my temper, but I wasn’t going to let her just hit me!” I exclaimed beginning to panic throwing my hand out explaining. “And now with you firing her father is going to cause hell if she and Daphne don’t start shit!”

“Bunny!” Doflamingo rushed to me hands gently grasping my face making me look up at him while I started to have a panic attack like my anxiety was getting out of control with the situation I made. I frankly looked at him breathing heavily, I usually don’t freak out, but everyone witnesses the drama. I try and stay away from drama as it always caused problems for me. And I did it in front of Doflamingo!

Doflamingo removed his glasses to his head before again gently cupping my cheeks for me to stare at his eyes which showed great concern, “Mi querida you need to breath for me, you did nothing wrong.” “But but I-“ I tried taking a breath but it was shaky with tears forming in my eyes from being overwhelmed. His fingers spread to the back of my head holding me without hurting me, leaning in close for his forehead to touch mine keeping my gaze, “Nothing is your fault, this is not your mess you made. We both know they would do something at the event, it was just unexpected. Mi querida-“ I gripped his wrists shouting eyes clenched tight as the tears fell, “Stop speaking Spanish!”

“Why?” My lip shook, “I don’t know, it feels weird. I feel weird when you do, so stop please.”

I kept my eyes shut not wanting to see his face, shaking from this. He seemed to pull back a bit.

“no.”

I looked at him shocked while he was almost smug which made me panic.

His hands released my face before grabbing me by the waist putting me on the counter, “The hell are you doing?!”

His hands gripped the counter edge, stepping closer leaning down closer to me making me panic and flustered gulping.

“What do you feel when I speak my native tongue?” oh his voice dipped low and deep, fuck!

“Nothing!” I exclaimed though my voice came out high pitched.

He chuckled deep from his chest, “Dime mi corazón, ¿qué te tiene tan nervioso?” “Stop it!” My face was growing hotter.

“Oh no cariño, no podrás salir de esta. Pareces muy nervioso?” he continued.

“Shut up!” I covered my hands over his mouth while he was laughing behind them while my head was down knowing it was crimson. Fucking hell; my body was like it was almost burning hot and my lower region was literally throbbing.

I slowly looked back up at him feeling his grin under my hand as his eyes knew what I feared: him speaking Spanish seemed to turn me on. FUCK I’M SCREWED!

I ripped my hands away, “Get out right now!”

“Oh no darling, we are not going to pass up this conversation,” he was thoroughly intrigued with how wide his grin was.

“This conversation is done, you can leave,” I stiffened when he lean in.

“Me speaking Spanish is a turn on for you, isn’t it?” I shook my head quickly, “No, your voice gets deep and its weird.” That only seemed to excite him which I began to panic more.

He crept closer purring with his voice deliberately low taunting me, “Tell me what makes you feel so weird when my voice is deep?”

I clenched my jaw tight leaning a bit back from his while he continues to lean closer as my fight or flight in my system went off as my leg went up hitting him in the groin again.

“Engh!” Doflamingo grunted from the pain, growling as he grabbed my leg from his groin hooking it around his hip. His hand releasing my face to grab my bottom tight meshing his groin with mine. “What the hell let go!” I freaked out being pressed so aggressively against his pants feeling the groin. I pushed on his chest to push him away, but he held me tight not letting me go.

“That is going to be the last time you do that Bunny,” I looked up at him fearful from his tone of irritation. “You need to be punished.” “What!” I squeaked until his free hand from my leg grasped the back of my head before he crushed his lips to mine.

A bruising kiss rough all lips and teeth crushed together against my lips with a groan from him full of desire and want. Causing me to gasp from the shock that ripple through my frame to my groin. Doflamingo took the second to force his tongue into my mouth exploring the inside of my mouth and tongue gripping my hair tight enjoying the pleasure as his body shuddered with mine. His hand gripping my bottom lifted me to grind against his own which left a moan out of my mouth, Doflamingo growling from his chest. Pressing his hips to roll up against mine as my dress was pushed back while assaulting my mouth with heavy, hungry kisses. My body was hot from the encounter, soon moving with his mouth as he drove in more wanting to taste everything my mouth could give him. I felt weak in his hands, this unimaginable pleasure erupting inside making me wet. My hands gripped his suit lapel trying to hold on as I could feel like my body would melt away. His tongue was long, exploring my mouth, my teeth, taking in my salvia as if it was the sweetest wine he had ever tasted. The roll of his hip sent fire through my groin as his member, thick and hard from under his pants rubbed against my clit.

Pulling back, I gasped, my breath heavy as my lungs needed air while he continued to kiss, suck, and bite at my kiss like an animal wanting feast. Gripping my hair to yank my head back letting out a cry from the pain of my hair which seemed to spur him on more. The grinding of his hip pressed harder, almost wanting to be closer than apart with a wall of fabric between us. His head came back up again crushing me in a mind-blowing kiss, never relenting before pulling back to press his forehead against mine like a hot brand. His eyes I can see blown out like mine staring intently.

“Tell me Bunny, when was the last time that you felt someone want you as much as I do right now?” deep husky voice with darken desire. “You can't even remember, can you? That last time of being in loving embrace.”

My eyes widen, memories flashing through my mind of the time with Law. All the times of love I remember, the touches, the looks, the texts, everything until that fateful day. The day the pain on top of everything of me on the ground crying and screaming at the funeral as I watched him walk away as it rained. Tears poured from my eyes; I quickly shoved him away gripping my hair shaking. The pain, the pain of everything was flooding back because I loved him so much it broke me. My knees came up while I shook as the flood gates opened that I held back for so long. I could feel the cracks of my body from everything I had put back together from that time beginning to break again.

“Bunny! Bunny Look at me!” I felt his hands try and pull my hands away from my head as I was pulling at my scalp. I looked up at him terrified while he seemed freaked out.

“NO!” I yelled, shaking my head. “Get out! Get Out! Get OUT!”

I shoved him back again, hopping off the counter running to my room. Slamming door locking it, as I fell to the floor crying while holding my knees to me. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! “Bunny, open the door right now! What’s wrong! Answer me!” Doflamingo pounded on my door, but I didn’t answer, rocking myself back and forth. “Bunny! Open the door!”

I can’t do that again! I can’t go back there! I can’t open that box again! I can’t! I can’t!

T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T

Doflamingo pounded on Bunny’s bedroom door for an hour before walking away running his head through his hair pacing back in forth in her apartment. Trying to figure out why Bunny suddenly freaked out on him like that. He could hear her crying but after some time of sitting on the couch thinking while pressing his fingers to his forehead before looking at his watch. It was twenty minutes past eleven when Doflamingo decided to leave pulling his glasses back down, he knew Bunny wasn’t going to come out, but he knew he needed to get information. Walking outside, Doflamingo could see Lao standing by the car looking at his phone.

Lao looked up to see the Young Master distressed, “What’s wrong sir?” Doflamingo let out an exhausted sigh running his hand over his jaw, “I don’t know, she freaked and locked herself in her room. Fuck!”

Doflamingo kicked a trash can looking greatly upset, his hands on his hips trying to think.

“Young Master calm down, explain it to me?” Lao stepped forward trying to calm Doflamingo. Lao knew something was wrong, the Young Master confided in him the most since he is often with the Young Master in the car, and when he was young. Lao besides Diamante and Trebol, Lao is often the voice of reason for Doflamingo with his age having seen more than Doflamingo had gone through form what was told to him. Lao knew what others didn’t about Doflamingo and could see more that the Young Master had serious feelings for Miss Sinclair for him to be this discomposed.

Rubbing the back of his neck with a hand on his hip for Doflamingo to explain, “Things kind of went a little ‘spicey’ between us or rather I kissed her. Aggressively.” Lao’s eyebrows went up as he fully opened his eyes to look at the Young Master in disbelief, “You kissed her?” “Yes, it was great,” Doflamingo grinned before shaking his head. “But that isn’t the point, it was after when I spoke to her that she freaked out on me really bad. She shoved me gripping her head, crying, and ran to locked herself in her room.”

“What did you say to her before she freaked out?” Lao pressed, eyebrows narrowing with his white cat ears folded back. Knowing Doflamingo, he is quite blunt he is expressing himself.

Doflamingo lips were thinned before telling Lao what he said to Bunny. Lao pinched his fingers over the bridge of his nose, ���Okay so it seems she from how you described her reaction brought up memories that she has been trying to suppress. And you saying that must have brought back the pain.” “Pain?” Doflamingo titled his head confused before exclaiming. “Pain of what?!” “Love,” Lao replied softly. “Bunny dealing with trauma of love and abandonment. I remember what you told me when you visited her in the hospital about Law, and how she was crying when she woke up begging you to get them out.” That’s when it hit Doflamingo like a ton of bricks. Of all the times she kept her distance from him, how she draws the line with him, how she was so angry and crying in the hospital about Law and Marco. How Perona treated him, her yelling at Law about what she had to do with Bunny back in college.

“I need to talk to Bunny’s best friend Perona, now,” Doflamingo spoke opening the door. “Sir, it is close to midnight?” Lao questioned confused.

“I need answers, and I need them now. Take me to her apartment,” Doflamingo argued back getting in the back while Lao sighed before doing what his Master told him.

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BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Doflamingo pounded on Perona’s door consistently until the door was being unlocked to swing open to show Perona looking pissed in her satin dress to her thighs wearing a pink sheer robe that had pink fur at the ends. Her hair was pulled up in rollers to keep her curls in with a pink sleep mask on her forehead, and slippers that matched her robe.

“The hell are you doing here!” Perona screeched until she stumbled back as Doflamingo barged in.

“Sit the fuck down, we are going to have a talk about Bunny,” Doflamingo growled, while Perona backed away scared collapsing in her pink couch.

Lao closed the door while Doflamingo grabbed a chair from the kitchen planting it infront of Perona before sitting down on it. Leaning forward looking serious while Perona was looking extremely nervous, “Explain to me why Bunny is so terrified about being ‘loved’?”

“What?” Perona’s voice pitched causing Doflamingo’s ears to flatten back from the high pitch assault on his ears. “Why the hell should I tell you anything? Bunny was nearly killed when she was with you!”

“I am not in the mood to talk about that, now why is Bunny so afraid of being loved? What the fuck happened after Law dumped her?” Doflamingo hissed, his anger rising with the veins beginning to appear on his forehead and neck.

Perona looked worried looking back and forth between Doflamingo and Lao before staring at the man before her demanding answers. Swallowing, Perona looked down at her hands thinking back of the memories as her face fell with despair.

“Bunny had just lost her parents; she was a complete reck. Always crying, screaming, having nightmares of seeing their death over and over,” Perona began to explain. “At the funeral, Law walked away and when Bunny went after him, he told her that he couldn’t handle her baggage and told her he was done. Leaving her even more crushed that the person she had loved, and was hoping to help rely on while she was going through this just dump Bunny at her parent’s funeral. It was like she broke into a million pieces on the grass, screaming, and begging for him to come back.” “What else?”

“Bunny began to drink quite heavily; it got to the point where she actually got alcohol poisoning. Had to be rushed to the hospital when I found her in our dorm room, she had to be held at the hospital for a week under Marco’s watch and the Whitebeard family making sure this never got out,” Perona wiped a tear from her eyes but were still glossy with tears she was trying to hold back. “Couple weeks later after she got out when she returned back to college, I walked in our room to find her about to hang herself.” ‘No,’ Doflamingo’s eyes widened behind his glasses stunned. His stomach dropped hearing this, imaging Bunny trying to kill herself after her parent’s death, and the pain at the same time of being dumped. It frightened him to his core, to the point he wanted to throw up.

Now the tears were falling from Perona’s face, “I never told anyone this, not even the Whitebeard Family that cared a lot for Bunny. From then on, I changed my class schedule to make sure I was with her during the classes we had together. I even had some people I know watch Bunny if I had to use the bathroom or during an exam. Often time I just brought her with me to classes we didn’t have when she had free time, and I went to hers.” Perona sniffled rubbing her nose with her robe. “Bunny was cold, practically lifeless until after a month since the funeral she changed.” “Changed how?” Doflamingo’s voice was low, even for him.

“She started to find work, was more determined in her studies, worried about her grandmother after hearing the will her parent’s left for her. She wasn’t the sweet girl I used to know, she still had things she liked but she didn’t touch alcohol for the longest time, just sipping super cheap wine now and then I would have which I watched her when she did. It wasn’t until I noticed she was working nights coming home exhausted, dark bags under her eyes while going to class. I followed her where she was supposed to work until I found out she was stripping. She wasn’t happy but when she told me she was using the money her parents left her for her grandmother home, and needed money to pay for food, cloths, school supplies since she was broke.” “Any relationships?” Doflamingo questioned, Perona shook her head.

“No, had a one-night stand about twice but she didn’t touch men at all after how Law left her. She said to me, ‘Perona it isn’t worth truly loving someone like I did Law to be broken all over again. The pain killed me, I can’t love again. Everyone I do dies or leaves me when I need them the most’. It hurts as I love her like a sister, which she does too but loving someone like she did with Law. It’s like all the broken parts of her rip open again; she is afraid she is going to be abandoned again. Loving someone of the opposite sex, to have any feelings bring back the trauma Law left her with. It is a line she isn’t able to cross again.” ‘That is why she has been drawing the line with me, not just because I wanted her by my side. Giving her gifts from her freaking out about them, but because she isn’t capable of crossing the line she drew herself,’ Doflamingo thought looking down at his hands. ‘I have noticed her blushing from when she came to the office when I kissed her head about Kaido interrupting us, and several other times including after the dress department fight when she called me Kitten. Even when I was speaking Spanish which I found interesting until tonight. Monet and Rosi were right; I pushed too hard, but I didn’t have the information about why until now.’

“You like Bunny, don’t you?” Doflamingo looked up from Perona’s remark. “I may not like you, but with you are bursting in here demanding why she is acting like this, you have feelings for her.” “How can you tell?” Doflamingo asked.

“Because no one seems to want to know about Bunny’s trauma that has been kept hidden but you. You always seem to be there when she is in trouble, how she acted with you in the hospital when she woke up. I’ve been watching how you two act around one another,” Perona answered, looking at Doflamingo with a calm face studying him. “You may want to be ‘Her Man’, but you don’t know the walls she put up around her. If you ever wanted to be that person to her, stripping down her defense’s is going to be a serious battle for you to even try and reach her. And she going to fight back, she is scared of loving anyone truly ever again.”

“And what if I can?” Doflamingo grounded out through his teeth.

Perona shook her head waving her finger at him up and down, “You are too rough, assertive, demanding, and too greedy. Bunny can come off strong and assertive with a temper of her own, but she is far more fragile than your average wine glass. If you are here, that means you pushed too far with her?”

‘She might be a bubbly girl, but she is smart. Like Bunny,’ Doflamingo smirked at Perona before standing up. “I got what I came here to know, but don’t tell Bunny or I will make sure you truly do have something to be scared about,” Perona paled at his words gulping before walking to the door. Lao left first but Doflamingo stopped looking at Perona. “Yeah, I like her very much.” Before closing the door shut.

“What now sir?” Lao asked following Doflamingo down the hall.

“Well, I fucked up. Gotta find a way to fix my fuck up with Bunny,” Doflamingo replied, knowing he truly has fucked up. He didn’t need Bunny to hate him forever, let alone running away either. Doflamingo didn’t like that he admitted he screwed up, but for Bunny he was willing to swallow his pride for now, and Joker wasn’t used to doing that. Ever.

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[voxofthevoid]

We're at Shibuya Swap Wednesday #9, and I still can't predict an end. Part 3 was largely unplotted when I started writing it, and I think I can see the end—and it's miraculously shorter than I anticipated—but let's see how the path there looks.

I didn't write a lot this week, so the fic is at 85k and halfway through Chapter 16. There's a fuckton of conversations in this part because I'm still reaping what I sowed in Part 1. Several bits were like pulling teeth, but I'm happy with the final shape. The following section is a goyuu reunion of sorts:

Yuuji opens the door and steps into the dark.

His eyes don’t need an adjustment period; he’s always had good night vision. The tall figure standing stock-still, silhouetted by the sparse moonlight outside an open window, still makes him startle. A second later, two pools of radiant blue cut through the dark—Gojou’s open eyes, fixed right on Yuuji.

“Gojou-sensei,” Yuuji breathes.

“Hello, Yuuji,” comes the soft reply.

The door gently clicks shut behind Yuuji, almost making him jump. His heart is in his throat, and it stays right there as the seconds stretch on, held in place by reasons better and worse than a door closing on its own. On the opposite end, Gojou is still and unmoving. His features are blank, the shadows on his face made strange by the glow of his own eyes. Yuuji’s known for a while that Gojou’s eyes have their own fire, but he’s never seen them like this.

He’s never seen Gojou like this.

“Sensei,” Yuuji says, speaking in hushed tones on instinct, “I’m gonna turn the light on.”

“Go on,” is all Gojou says.

Yuuji gropes around the walls beside the door, and it’d be easier if he just looked, but he finds that he can’t take his eyes off Gojou. A part of him is afraid, not that Gojou will do anything but that he’ll melt into the shadows if Yuuji takes his eyes off him, vanishing like he was never here.

He finds the switchboard and promptly blinds himself.

“Shit,” he swears, slapping his hands over his eyes. He rubs the tears away, peering out from between his fingers and getting smarting eyes for his trouble. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” Gojou says, sounding amused; the familiarity of it makes something in Yuuji unclench.

He blinks and squints until the light don’t feel like it’s stabbing his eyes anymore, and then Gojou’s there in full color, eyes bared and hair down and smiling at Yuuji, as solid as a dream can ever get.

“Gojou-sensei,” Yuuji says helplessly, “you’re back.”

“I am. Miss me?”

“I—yes, I was—”

“Worried?”

“…Yeah.”

Gojou’s smile widens. It’s not really a nice expression, too sharp around the edges, but Gojou means these smiles. They’re real, even if they’re poised to cut.

“I’m not the kind of man,” Gojou murmurs, “you should worry about, Yuuji.”

“Yeah, well…” Yuuji shrugs. “Can’t help it, I guess. And it’s different this time.”

“Oh?”

“You were walking into a trap, weren’t you?”

“Oh?” Gojou repeats with an unholy amount of relish. “You really have been thinking about me.”

Yuuji fights down the urge to throw up his arms. “I just told you that!”

“So you did,” Gojou admits. “No need to worry about your dear teacher—I won’t be outmaneuvered twice by the same person. Once was enough. My pride won’t survive a repeat, and we’d hate that, wouldn’t we?”

“Uh, sure,” Yuuji says, not sure how to say Gojou’s pride isn’t what he’s worried about.

Gojou chuckles like he can tell anyway. “Your mother’s a wily bastard, by the way. I hope you haven’t inherited any of that. I quite like how straightforward you are. You’re not hiding some Machiavellian cunning under all that cute pink fluff, are you?”

“What?” Yuuji asks, his brain stuck on cute pink fluff.

“No.” Gojou tilts his head, humming. “No, you’re a different breed.”

“Okay?” Yuuji wrenches his attention back to the point. “How’d it go? Did you find them, did you—”

“I found the body,” Gojou answers. “Booby-trapped to hell, with the most innovative mix of barriers and seals I’ve ever seen. Maybe I should start teaching you those. See if you’ve got a knack for it. Genetics isn’t everything, but for sorcerers, it means something more often than not.”

Any other time, Yuuji would have leaped at the chance to learn more and get stronger, but right now, all he can focus on is—

“The body?” he asks.

Gojou blinks once; his eyes are glowing even in the bright light. “The brain was absent. The residuals led me on a wild goose chase for a while, but they didn’t lead to anything. I knew it wouldn’t. I was tracking that body’s cursed energy, you see. And I found it. It’s all I found. We should have killed them at Shibuya. But every version of you will be a sentimental fool, won’t you, Yuuji?”

Yuuji takes half a step back before forcing himself to stop. Gojou’s stare is a piercing thing, like twin lasers—hotter than the sun, with none of its warmth. Yuuji feels like it’ll sear off his flesh, chunk of cooked meat falling to the ground at his feet.

He can’t feel Gojou’s cursed energy at all.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuji says very gently, “about your friend.”

Gojou stills, somehow without moving a single muscle. Something seems to suck the air out of the room.

Yuuji smothers the urge to yank the door open and throw himself out of this room. It’s not real anyway. Yuuji doesn’t actually want to run away from Gojou. He’s not scared. It’s just that, sometimes, Gojou gets like this, all silent and still, and every animal instinct Yuuji has starts screaming. It happened with Sukuna too, the one time they met face to face, but Yuuji was too angry then to feel anything else, and it was only later, when the way his spine writhed as Gojou bore down on that volcanic curse felt oddly familiar, that Yuuji even realized that a part of him had responded the same way to that blood-and-bone domain and its vicious master.

With Gojou, there’s no anger to swallow everything else, and Yuuji’s left to grapple uncomfortably with the disconnect between his instincts and his feelings. It makes him feel guilty too. Gojou’s on a whole other level as a sorcerer, as a living being, but he’s still just a person. And he’s Yuuji’s teacher. Yuuji likes him; he worries about him. There’s something profane about any part of Yuuji reacting to Gojou the way it did to Sukuna, and Yuuji has a hundred reasons to want to get stronger, but one of them, close to the top of the list, is that he wants to bear the brunt of Gojou’s power without even a sliver of his soul squirming.

He takes a step closer to Gojou, not once looking away from the violent supernova of his eyes.

Something shifts in Gojou’s expression. It doesn’t soften, but it’s less blank, less alien.

“I’d ask who’s been telling tales,” Gojou murmurs, “but it doesn’t matter, hm? You should save your pity for the ones who matter, Yuuji. My old friend lost that right years ago.”

Yuuji…has no idea what to do make of that.

But he knows one thing. “It’s not pity, sensei. I just wish none of it happened to you.”

“And what would you know of what happened to me?”

Yuuji shrugs, trying and failing to shake off the discomfort layering his skin. “Not much. Just that your friend became a curse user and, uh, died. And then Kenjaku took his body.”

“That’s not all you know,” Gojou says with damning certainty. “Tell me how he died, Yuuji.”

Yuuji looks down at his feet for a moment, breathing in deep. Getting air into him still feel like a fight, and his heartbeat is echoed all over his body, from the skull to the soles of his feet. There’s something unnatural happening.

But he trusts Gojou.

Yuuji looks him in the eyes and says, “You killed him.”

“I did. Are you sorry about that too?”

“Yes, sensei.”

“What if I told you I didn’t even hesitate? He was my best friend, you know. The only one I ever had.”

Yuuji’s eyes smart again, his chest squeezing tight. “That must have felt terrible.”

Gojou blinks.

The air lightens.

There’s a long, heavy sigh, followed by Gojou slumping back against the open window, his entire torso supported by empty space. His eyes haven’t wavered from Yuuji or lessened any in intensity, but there’s a pout on his mouth that doesn’t suit the situation at all.

“Are you for real?” he complains.

“Uh, yes?”

“I don’t believe it. Come here, I need to pinch you.”

“What? I’m not doing that!”

“I’ll come there then.”

“No—eck.”

Yuuji didn’t even see Gojou move, but there are fingers pinching his cheek and a toothy grin filling his vision, and his instinctive struggling does down as he processes the new proximity, the rest of the world fading to make room for the warmth and size of Gojou’s body. He’s so close to Yuuji, their chests almost touching, and more and more of his features burn themselves into Yuuji’s vision. His jaw is a sharp curve, the kind you could cut yourself on, and the rest of his face isn’t any better, painfully pretty. Yuuji can’t help noticing that his lips are cracked, without a hint of their usual glossy sheen. It only becomes more obvious when Gojou’s impish grin eases up, settling into a quiet, crooked smile.

Yuuji stares at them for a very long moment, his mouth drying out to match Gojou’s lips.

He looks up. Radioactive eyes gleam a hot blue, threatening to swallow him whole.

[lumpsbumpsandwhumps]

*crawling on all fours, frothing at the mouth* PLEASE I NEED A DRABBLE ABOUT ASHLEY AND THE STRANGER

She had such beautiful blue eyes.

He knew she wouldn't be able to fully meet his gaze due to the blacked out openings of his mask, but that didn't mean he couldn't see hers. So wide in terror, streaks of black smudged down her cheeks as tears washed away her mascara, the same tears that made the color of her iris sparkle like a real sapphire.

His heart skipped a beat at her startled yelp, and he mentally cursed the window between them that prevented him from leaping forward to secure her in his arms. She'd felt so small against him the first time he held her, but so feisty, wrenching herself free with a strength he underestimated. It made sense, in hindsight. Cheerleaders don't throw their teammates in the air with only their pretty faces and short skirts.

And god did she have a pretty face. Pale, sweating, covered with flecks of blood that weren't hers, a trembling split lip that begged to be caught between his teeth.

The poor thing nearly jumped out of her skin when he slammed a bloody hand against the glass with a resounding thud. It was a miracle that it didn't shatter under the impact, though he would have almost prefer if it did. Just he could get his arm through. Just so he could be a little bit closer, reach out, snag her wrist, drag her through the broken shards until they were chest to chest.

She did not feel the same excitement, even if it was obvious that her own heart was thumping loud enough to deafen. She was eager for him as well, she was just denying it, confused by these new feelings in the same way he was when it came to the warm stirring in the pit of his stomach. The bat she had stolen from the gym was clutched tighter to herself, much like a child clinging to the arm of an adult for comfort.

If only she would swing the bat at the window, then they could be rid of these stupid barriers that continued to separate the connection they both desperately needed to explore. But she didn't. She must have been too awestruck by his presence to think clearly judging by how her bruised knees trembled together and her chest stuttered with uneven breaths.

In a flash, she was gone, sprinting down the hallway with only the squeak of her sneakers to fade in the distance. She must be going to look for an alternate route, but he would have no problem finding her first. A welcome surprise, he was sure. His hand slid down the window to drop by his side, smearing the bloodied handprint for officers to later gawk at and a janitor to scrub away with bleach. There was no time to waste, it was quite a big campus building after all, not to mention if she made it outside before him and got herself mixed up with...other people.

A part of him wished she would, just so he could hold onto that terror in her eyes up close as he carved some unlucky bastard's throat wide open. Staring up at him, pleading, hypnotizing him with their brilliant hue that he'd have to restrain himself from plucking them out of her skull to break the spell they had on him.

And to think, he doesn't even know her name.

[losersimonriley]

I want to ask about all of it but please,,, a crumb of sundowning 🙏

Camus I would post sundowning in its entirety right here right now if you asked me to 💘

Here’s a hospital scene mixed with a little flashback:

He clears his throat, fully doubting this will do anything, but willing to try anything.

“Johnny?”

It’s the first time he’s said the name aloud since–

Since.

“Johnny?” She asks, flipping through the chart. “He goes by Johnny? There wasn’t anything in here—”

“No. No, just…,” he trails off, not knowing how the fuck he’s supposed to finish that sentence without giving the impression that they’re something they’re not. He does go by Johnny but you can’t call him that. Nobody else can either actually, unless it’s me. Right then. Jesus Christ. It’s almost a more embarrassing scenario than when he wanted to tell the nurse aide to let him be the one to bathe him.

He remembers Soap warning Alejandro not to call him Johnny. It feels like a lifetime ago. He didn’t know it at the time but that was only the first of several incidents to come from the name.

Soap has completely pulverised their only source of intel. Ghost would be seething about it if he weren’t so turned on.

Soap hadn’t lost it until the rat-faced bastard taunted him with the nickname he’d overheard Ghost use.

“Call me that one more time, ye fuckin’ wankstain, swear I—”

Soap rears back to put a boot in the man’s face, but Ghost finally gains the sense to put a stop to it. He grips Soap by the collar and yanks.

“Simmer.”

It’s unbelievable how quick the raging fire dies down. All from a simple touch and command. He vaguely wonders what else his sergeant might do if he only gave the word.

“Sorry.”

“Mind tellin’ me what the actual fuck that was about?”

“He called me Johnny,” Soap mumbles, looking off to the side.

It reminds him of a child explaining to a parent why he got into a fight in the schoolyard. Similar to a child, the reason is because of name calling. And this one is just a normal bloody name.

“I call you Johnny.”

“Yeah, well, you’re the only one who can.”

He’s said that before—weeks ago in Mexico. Ghost still doesn’t understand it, hasn’t asked, too hesitant about throwing a wrench in this little friendship they’ve started to build. It’s been so long since he’s had a mate like Johnny. Never, actually.

But throw a wrench he must do now because when Price finds out about their prisoner…well. He needs answers. Ones that make even the slightest bit of sense to himself at the very least.

“Why?”

“Because it sounds sexy coming out of your mouth, sir.”

Insubordinate little—

“I don’t know, Ghost,” Johnny sighs, running a bloodied glove down his face. “Supposin’ the both of us need to figure that one out.”

“Just a name I use for him.”

It sounds weak even to his own ears. Heat gathers in his cheeks and he can only hope the mask is high enough to cover the blush. She gives a thoughtful hum before nodding at him to continue.

Why is this so humiliating?

“Johnny,” he says with a bite. “Eyes open for us.”

Nothing. The disappointment that floods his body shouldn’t be so sharp. He’d expected this, afterall. He flops back into his chair.

Emily presses her pen down against Soap’s fingernail with more and more pressure each passing second. Simon digs his own fingers into his kneecaps and Johnny doesn’t open his eyes. Just as expected.

What’s not fucking expected is Johnny’s arm suddenly jerking away from the pressure against his hand.

Ghost shoots up out of his chair once more.

[yoo-jeongneon]

undo every button.. (even if one goes missing) | j.ww

× minors/ageless/empty blogs dni. you will be blocked. ×

pairing: jeon wonwoo x gn!reader

genre: romance

warnings: actor!wonwoo, actor!reader, smut, explicit language, acquaintances-to-lovers, director is an impatient bastard, awkward tension, confessions, flirtatious banter

smut warnings: afab anatomy used, fingering (reader), unprotected oral (both), cum swallowing, pet names (reader: babe, gorgeous, beautiful), quite passionate/intense, skipping sex due to not having a condom

word count: very nearly 4.6k

a/n: this is a one-shot from my old blog that i decided to repost here - let me know what you think, feedback is much appreciated!

× you and wonwoo are actors who have been called upon to star in a steamy music video. the three-day filming period is rather awkward, and things finally snap on the third day.. ×

The camera's eye is so hot on the two of you it could practically burn a hole through your skin.

You stand between Wonwoo's legs, hands on his shoulders, wearing nothing but a white button down and some black underwear. In contrast, Wonwoo is shirtless with the flies of his trousers undone; his hands ghost over your hips, still keeping that barrier between you, his palms growing sweatier by the second.

Wonwoo had been instructed to strip you down, roughly, with as much passion needed to convey the appropriate emotions. He needs to rip open the shirt, exposing nothing underneath, and kiss down the centre of your body.

Of course, with clever editing not much is seen, but the implication needs to be there and more importantly, needs to be clear.

So, the director encourages him, pushing him towards that goal of indicating such fiery intent that it would be obvious that he can't hold back.

Your eyes travel down to him, your mind an absolute mess of emotions when Wonwoo is this close to you. You want nothing more than for Wonwoo to just do it, take everything off and sink his teeth in. Dip his tongue below and ravage you. Pin you down to this very bed and fuck you stupid.

But Wonwoo becomes frozen.

His fingers dance across the space above your hips, unable to bring himself to do what the director has asked of him. He looks askance, gazing down at the floor as his stress levels peak.

Eventually he lowers his hands, resting them on his thighs, and calls for a five minute breather.

You can't help a sigh leaving your lips; a mix of uneasiness and confusion. You can't read Wonwoo's mind, how are you supposed to understand what exactly is going on in it?

Vexed as fuck, wishing the work day would just end, the director mumbles, "Cut.." You step back and sit on the stool by the dressing table, one leg crossed over the other. Standing between you, the director doesn't hide his frustration as he says, "When you're ready, do let us know."

The entire crew leaves the room with him, and once his back is turned, you roll your eyes, loathing how impatient he can be.

When you finally look over at Wonwoo, you realise he hasn't moved a single muscle.

"Um.." you swallow, "are you alright?"

He doesn't look up at you, and instead quietly says, "I don't know.."

There are a thousand gears turning in his head and he wants to throw a wrench in every single one. You watch him from across the room, thirty seconds of silence dissolving into an eternity.

Picking at a stray bit of lint on his trousers, Wonwoo closes his eyes and exhales. You get up and pace around the room, stopping by the window to get a view of the city.

You never realised just how beautiful it looks from this high up. Streetlights twinkle like stars on the roads below, and the distant noise of nightlife is only barely muffled by the glass that separates you.

You fold your arms after a time, shoulders tensing to your ears as you become painfully aware of Wonwoo's presence in the room. For the longest time, you figured if you never had to work in such close proximity to him, the feelings would go away and you could move on with your life.

But life dealt you a daunting card, and now you stand just inches away from the man himself, shirtless and completely unaware of exactly what it took for you to even be in the same room, let alone like this.

Behind you, you catch the faint rustling of sheets. You don't dare look back, choosing to keep your gaze fixed on the world in front of you.

Once Wonwoo reaches the end of the bed, he stands. He takes careful steps towards you, the subtle creaks of the floor beneath his feet an agonising reminder that he's spent too long hoping. Too long wishing. Too long imagining.

Not enough action.

Every centimetre of space lost is truly a test in and of itself. Does Wonwoo stop here and turn away? Does he call it quits with the director and run for the hills?

Or does he recognise the beautiful, smart, headstrong, fearless person who's a master of their craft standing right in front of him.. and actually make something known of this attraction?

By the time he's figured it out, he's standing directly behind you.

Damned if he fucking doesn't.

"N.." he murmurs, and it almost makes you jump. His voice drips beneath the base of your spine and down, and you swallow hard as it sinks in just how close he is. "There's something I need to say.."

Right now, you would very much like the ground beneath you to open a giant wormhole.

You bite down on your bottom lip and can only manage a whisper, "Yeah?"

With a sigh, Wonwoo says it point-blank, "I am so fucking crazy about you."

You suck in a breath. Your knees go completely weak and you have to close your eyes for a few seconds.

He did not just say that.

"And before you ask, no, I'm not lying," he forces a chuckle out, and that's what makes you finally turn around and look at him.

You search his face for some tiny crack in the seam, a sign that he's just messing with you, and that he did not just confess attraction for you while you're standing there yearning for him to turn you inside out.

But there's nothing of the sort. Wonwoo's expression remains wholly sincere. "That's why I've been so.. awkward these past couple of days. When I took on this project, I knew exactly what it entailed. I knew I'd be working with you and.. I genuinely thought I could do it without completely losing it but my feelings for you are just too strong."

Every word he says is just another punch to the gut. You truly had no idea he felt this way about you, but you suppose putting the whole thing into perspective, it makes some semblance of sense, even if it is crazy.

It then becomes apparent that if you don't say anything now, you'll probably never speak again.

"I really genuinely can't believe you just said that," you mutter quite neutrally, looking elsewhere so you don't have to make eye contact with him for more than a second. Wonwoo tugs at the inside of his lip; your remark feels rather blasé, but in your mind it's to circumvent wanting to bury your head in the sand and scream.

You sigh dreamily into the open air, "Because, lord, how am I meant to say this now.."

Wonwoo lifts his head. Say what? He can't help but feel he's just made an awkward situation even more uncomfortable.

"Wonwoo.." you exhale. "You have no idea how I feel about you." When your eyes meet, Wonwoo bites down on his tongue hard. You push your shoulders back, lifting your chin and doing so with purpose. "Because I am immensely insane about you." Before you know it, you can't stop. "And that scene just now, with me standing between your legs, I literally couldn't think, I just wanted you to-" You cut yourself off, and notice Wonwoo's eyes have darkened significantly.

He takes a step closer to the point it's stifling, "Wanted me to do what?" He can't help the vaguest smirk, a certain new confidence washing over him.

You pan down to his chest. You lift a hand, keeping it at a distance until Wonwoo takes it and places it just beneath the collarbone. Beneath it all, you can feel his heart thudding at a ridiculous pace, and you can tell it matches your own.

Wonwoo feels that spark the second your hand is on him. He struggles to keep his composure, wanting to give himself over completely, undo you in ways that have you screaming his name while letting you have your way with him.

The moment you look up into his eyes, your strong gaze bringing you both to the point of no return, Wonwoo knows you're both in for something much longer than a five minute breather.

"Everything the director asked for and more."

Wonwoo gulps. "N?"

"Yes?" you lift a brow.

"..Can I kiss you?"

Your lips tilt up. "Yes."

In an instant, Wonwoo crashes his lips against yours, snaking his arms around your body and pulling you impossibly close. A surprised yelp leaves your throat before you kiss back with just as much vigour, throwing your arms around his shoulders and arching your back into his grasp.

You move in unison to the end of bed and Wonwoo collapses down, placing you back in the position you were in minutes earlier. Thinking back to the director's instruction, Wonwoo rips the shirt open and kisses down the length of your body, tongue lapping over every inch of skin like it's a carnal need.

His mouth is so hot on your otherwise cool skin that you gasp for air, fingers tugging every strand of his locks urging him to go lower.

"Fuck, gorgeous," he groans against your navel, "you are stunning." He wraps his lips around one nipple, thumb teasing the other and a loud moan throttles out of your throat.

"Wonwoo-" You throw your head back at the pleasure coursing through your body as Wonwoo switches.

"What do you need, beautiful?" He doesn't relent, his tongue working hard on the buds until they're both stiff.

"You- fuck, touch me-" you beg, and Wonwoo chuckles as he slips a thumb inside your underwear and rubs circles on your clit. You convulse, twisting in the firm hold he has on your waist with just one hand, thighs already shaking at just a simple touch.

"Jesus, N, so wet for me.." he murmurs. He growls a little as he presses his thumb harder, rubbing faster, watching as you lose all balance and throw yourself forward. You clutch his shoulders and screw your eyes shut, moaning and whimpering as you reach your release. "That's it.."

"Oh- oh- fuck, Won-" You dig your nails into his shoulders and cry out as Wonwoo pushes the fabric aside and massages your folds, the tips of his fingers teasing your entrance. You twitch and contort and clench around nothing, holding on for dear life as Wonwoo sings praise after praise into your ear. "Wonwoo-"

"Yes?" he exhales.

"Please, more-"

"Yeah?" He pushes the tips of his fingers in and stars burst in your vision. "Like that?"

"Yes- ah- fuck-"

Wonwoo chuckles mischievously as he pushes one digit in, gently followed by the second with your permission. He curves his fingers inside, trying to find the spot to make you shriek.

"Ah-" you cry, already on the precipice and struggling to form any coherent thought when his slender fingers are buried. No room for thinking about what those fingers could do anymore when they're making mean work of your insides. "Gonna- fuck- gonna-"

"Go on, beautiful, let go, that's it-" The tips of his fingers just brush that spot, making you melt away into a puddle. "Fuck, so good, so, so good-" he husks, his fingers coated in your wetness. The strain of his cock in his briefs is becoming more and more unbearable and he grunts involuntarily, but remains focused on your pleasure all the while. He speeds up his movements and watches as you shudder in his hold, crying his name as you come undone.

Wonwoo pulls his fingers away, and you nearly fall into his lap; you then take his hand and bring the two digits to his mouth, lips curved upwards in a devilish smirk. Wonwoo gets the hint and drags his lips over the two digits, making a low noise at the back of his throat as he savours your taste.

Cupping his jaw, you capture Wonwoo's lips in another kiss, knee pressed firmly into the mattress just to keep yourself steady. Your tongues move back and forth to the point you can taste yourself, and a tight moan punches out of you.

Wonwoo falls back on the bed. His cock is now so painfully hard he has to cup a hand over it just for some relief.

You break the kiss and look down, seeing the noticeable tent that has formed in his trousers. You run your tongue over your lips and ask, "May I?"

Wonwoo knows exactly what you want to do, and his heart can't stop racing. "Please-" You smirk then push your hand down the open fly in his trousers and stroke softly through the fabric of his briefs. Wonwoo bucks his hips up, jaw tipping open as his eyes close.

With one hand resting on the bed, you up the pace. "Does that feel good?" you breathe into his ear, and Wonwoo wonders if he hasn't just died and gone to heaven.

"So good, fuck.. More, N, please-"

With an idea in mind, you take your hand out, causing Wonwoo to groan at the loss of contact. You chuckle at that, "One second.." You tug at the waistband of his trousers and Wonwoo gets the idea, helping to take them off and throw them aside. Next go his briefs, Wonwoo's hard cock curving upwards to his stomach.

"Holy shit-" you blurt.

Wonwoo smirks, unable to get rid of that mischievous glint in his eye as he watches you wrap a hand firmly around the base. He grunts, rolling his hips upward as you get down on your knees.

Pushing himself up, he watches as you gaze up at him, giving him a wink as you press a kiss to his inner thigh.

The second he realises what you want to do, he swallows. "You sure, N?"

Your eyes flicker up, "Mhm. I wanna make you feel good."

Wonwoo takes a deep breath, "If anything changes, or you wanna stop, grip my hand okay?"

Your heart flutters in your chest, "I will." You press another kiss to his thigh, and Wonwoo's eyes close.

In his own flustered state, he can't stand the teasing.

"N, babe, please-" The pet name is unexpected but definitely not unwelcome. You smile to yourself, heart ricocheting off every part of your body, and slowly bring your mouth to the tip of his leaking cock.

The sound that shudders out of Wonwoo is the guttural cry of a man teetering on the edge. He threads his fingers through your hair, wanting nothing more than for you to take him whole and suck him dry.

"N- fuck-" He pushes his hips up, wanting, needing something more, but you take your time, running your tongue down the underside and back up to the head. "Oh, God-"

With your hand still wrapped around the base, you take the head into your mouth and suck gently. It's absolutely mind-blowing how you could do so little and yet have this effect on him.

You moan subtly, causing tiny vibrations to surge through his body, and he almost falls back on the bed, unable to keep himself upright when everything you're doing below is murderous.

Eventually, Wonwoo finds the resolve to glance down, and you meet him half-way, glazed eyes glimmering against the warm hues of the floor lamp in the corner of the room.

Fuck, he's in trouble. Fuck, he's going to lose it. Fuck, he wants to ruin you.

You steadily take his entire cock in, breathing through the nose as you hollow out. He's fairly big, and the tip hits the back of your throat, but you do not mind one bit.

Wonwoo feels as though he's legitimately glitching out. The warmth of your mouth and the soft swipes of your tongue across every inch of his cock is doing him under in ways he wasn't prepared for.

"Jesus, fuck, N.. God, that feels so good-" You moan weakly at the praise, sending yet another jolt through him. He tightens his grip on your hair ever so slightly, and it only pushes you to work harder. "Fuck, your mouth is, ah-" He rolls his hips up, essentially fucking into your mouth, each push causing another sound to push out of your throat. "God, babe, I'm not gonna last-"

You then grip his hand, and Wonwoo immediately shifts, loosening his grip and giving you room to pull off his cock.

But you don't distance yourself too much, only muttering, "Come for me, I'll take it," before sinking back down.

Wonwoo short-circuits. His breath hitches as you lick at the tip, and he shudders and breaks as he comes hard in your mouth.

You take every last bit, stroking the base of Wonwoo's cock until he eventually stops. You pull back with a smug grin, licking over your lips before getting to your feet.

Wonwoo struggles to breathe as he comes down, groaning loudly into the air above him as he falls back onto the bed. You climb onto the bed and straddle him, and he instantly finds the strength to sit up and ardently tear the shirt off you, throwing it aside before you switch positions.

Wonwoo pins you to the bed, devouring your lips as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. "Fuck, I want you so bad-" he moans between kisses.

You whimper and reach for the waistband of your underwear, trying to push them down before Wonwoo takes the reins and pulls them off, discarding them along with the shirt. You spread your legs wide and Wonwoo can only stare at the glisten of arousal.

"Please-" you beg. "Want your mouth.."

Wonwoo smiles knowingly, then lowers himself until he's level with your clit before pressing a kiss just above. You moan and reach down to grip his hair, which only spurs him on.

He tests the waters with a single lick to the bud. You grab the sheets, your hips flexing up into him, and Wonwoo dives in, steadily, wrapping his lips around the sensitive bud and sucking delicately, choosing to also take his time. He holds onto you thighs and buries his face into your folds, running his tongue up and down the length before working his way back up the clit.

Each new ministration is dangerous. You buck into his mouth helplessly, aching for more of him, fingers locked in his hair as you cry out his name.

Wonwoo claws his fingers into your thighs, trapping himself there, then draws one hand up the length of your body. You grab his hand and hold on, unable to think, speak or function properly in the foggy haze of having exactly what you've dreamed of finally happen.

"Ah- ah-" Very few coherent words can be uttered, the sounds a mix of jumbled letters and strained noises. "Ple- Won- ah.."

Wonwoo understands he's been asked after, and draws back just briefly. "What do you need, babe?" His lips reattach to the clit and he sucks a little more fervently.

"To- Tongue- oh.." You clasp his hand harder as Wonwoo brushes the tip of his tongue against your entrance. "Yes- please-"

Pulling away for a mere second, Wonwoo breathes in his lowest voice, "Let me hear you, babe.. I got you."

Wonwoo plunges into your heat and you spring off the bed. "Fuck- Wonwoo!"

Wonwoo can't help a smile forming as he pushes his tongue deeper inside; that's exactly what he was after.

Your moans turn to heavy panting as Wonwoo laps at the warmth, pushing his tongue in and out before licking one long stripe up the centre and back down again. He devours like a man starved, eyes closed and brows knitted together and revels in every sound you make.

Wonwoo thinks for a brief second that you'll let go of his hand, but when you only tighten your grip, hips stuttering into him with a litany of curses spilling from your mouth, he knows you're close. He wraps his lips around the bud again and hums, and that's what finally throws you over the edge.

It's only then that you let go of his hand, resting the back of it on your forehead as tears sting the back of your eyes.

Wonwoo helps you through it, relaxing his muscles and letting the moment sit for a while. Drawing back, he runs his tongue over his lips and swipes the remains off his chin.

He crawls up the bed until he's eye level, and your eyes - dazed and off-kilter from everything that's just happened - flutter open. You're barely able to take in the sight of Wonwoo hovering above you before you're wrapping a hand around his neck and pulling him down. Wonwoo follows eagerly, kissing so tenderly, and you get another quick taste before Wonwoo is dragging his lips down to your neck.

With one hand on your hip bone, the other keeping himself steady on the pillow, Wonwoo buries his head in the crook of your neck and kisses ardently. You gasp, keening into him as you dig your fingers into his lower back.

Wonwoo grunts then says into you ear, "How did that feel?"

You wish you could form enough comprehensible speech to answer.

Gazing up at him, you reach up to cup his jaw and meekly whisper, "So fucking good, you are.." Wonwoo smiles, heartfelt, and presses a kiss to your forehead. You hum; this proximity is kind of surreal, and you want to bask in this moment forever. "How did-" your eyes flicker down, "that feel?"

Wonwoo gets it immediately. "N, you've got no fucking idea," he laughs, but means it sincerely. "What you did? Insane."

Your eyes find each other, and something stirs in both of you. Wonwoo leans down and presses another kiss to your lips that you return, before you grab his face between your palms and deepen it.

Wonwoo mutters between kisses, "Do you wanna do this?"

"God, yes, please fuck me-" you answer. Wonwoo's heart jumps into his throat, and he goes back to indulging you in kisses.

You both want this so fucking bad, but the second Wonwoo climbs into position, reality hits him and he breaks away.

You stare at him, a little bewildered, but Wonwoo leans down and whispers, "Ain't got a condom."

Your eyes go wide, "Oh, shit."

Wonwoo utters a fuck under his breath and turns to lay on his side next to you. He lets out a chuckle, "Ah, Jesus.."

"And I don't have one either.." you mutter. Wonwoo leans into your side, pressing a kiss to your shoulder with a soft grin on his face.

Both of you are no doubt disappointed, but you have a bit of fun with it.

"Do you think the director would mind if we went and got some?" Wonwoo jokes. You erupt in laughter and nudge him. "Uh, yeah, excuse me, N and I desperately wanna fuck, but no condoms, can we go buy some?"

You laugh harder, and Wonwoo's face lights up at that sound.

That's when you catch yourselves staring at one another again.

This entire situation has changed everything.

Neither of you could deny your feelings, and you had just spent a fair bit of time showing each other exactly how you feel, but now it's come to actually talking about it.

"N, I.." Wonwoo mumbles. "I wanna see you again," he says, outright. "I wanna-" He cuts himself off at the sight of your glazed, beautiful eyes. He swallows the lump in his throat and continues, "I wanna be with you."

You bite your bottom lip then sigh, "I want that too."

Wonwoo's shoulders tense. He gathers up whatever's left of his courage and asks, "Would you.. like to come to my place? Say, this Friday?"

A warm smile trickles onto your face, "I would love that."

He mirrors your expression, then leans down to kiss you again. You stay like that until a thought pops into your head. "Do you think the director has caught onto what we've been doing?"

Wonwoo pulls away and hums. "Well if he hasn't yet, then-" As if on cue, a knock at the door. "Ah." Caught off guard, you throw your head back in laughter.

On the other side of the door, a now infuriated director huffs and shouts, "Are you two done with your five minute breather?"

Wonwoo nestles close to you, "It would be rude to ask for five more minutes, wouldn't it?"

You hit his shoulder lightly, "Wonwoo!" He chuckles before meeting your lips again, your smiles turning into another intense kiss as Wonwoo runs his hand down the side of your body and raises your leg up. Your chest tightens at the sensation, a soft whimper leaving the back of your throat.

..It would be rude to ask for five more minutes.

Another loud knock interrupts them, and you finally break away with a sigh. "We probably shouldn't keep them waiting," you admit.

Wonwoo eventually agrees, slightly peeved but nonetheless understanding. "One second!" he yells out to the director.

You sit up first, leaving him to lie on his back and stare at the ceiling just to process this. You titter at the mess around you of bunched up clothes in tiny piles at the foot and the side of the bed, then reach forward to grab the shirt so you can put it back on.

With six buttons done up, you go to do the seventh, when you notice something out of the ordinary. Your brows furrow as your thumb recognises no plastic to hold onto, and when you look down and inspect further, you snort and cover your face.

Wonwoo catches this and lifts a brow, "What's up?"

"Come here," you beckon him over. He sits up and pushes himself down the length of the bed, pecking your shoulder once more before resting his chin on it. "So.. you know they talk about blurring the lines between what is and what isn't acting?" He hums affirmatively. You alert him to what you found and he stares at it. "Does a missing button fall under that?"

It takes him two seconds, but then, "Oh, shit-"

You laugh as Wonwoo launches off the bed in a desperate search for this missing button. He stops to throw his briefs back on, then kneels on the floor to check under the bed. You do the same with your underwear then lean over to where he's searching. "Any luck?"

"No.. and both our phones are in our rooms so we don't have a torch." He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. "Did I really rip the shirt open so hard a button flew off?"

"Ah, I think it's alright." He looks up at you. "If they do notice a torn off button, well that's all part of the act, isn't it?" you wink, leaning close to him.

Wonwoo freezes in place; another knock makes him jump, and he steals a kiss before moving to put his trousers back on. You make yourself comfortable at the end of the bed while Wonwoo heads for the door to open it.

The director storms in and stops between the two of you.

"So-" he starts, "are we now a bit more prepared to film this scene?"

You suppress a smile by biting down on your lip, and Wonwoo can't help a smirk as he looks at you and answers the query.

"Definitely.. though we may have a missing button."

× yoo-jeongneon ×

[bewitchingbooktours]

Potion Master

Potion Master

Fate Cycle Series

Book One

Sam Fairburn

Genre: Urban Fantasy Romance

Publisher: Sam Fairburn Publishing

Date of Publication: November 16, 2023

ISBN: 978-1-998204-01-4 

ASIN: B0CJ8DVMNT 

Number of pages: 340 pages.

Word Count: 93976 words

Cover Artist: Erick Robillard at Kinos

Tagline: Moderation is key… That being said, when not one but two enigmatic liars creep into my life, what’s a witch to do?

Book Description:

Riley

All I want is to start this new chapter of my life in peace, brewing beer and mixing potions at The Drunken Sailor. Simple. Safe. Single. But when my skills as potion master and healer are noticed by a mysterious stranger, the stalking that ensues leads me to ask more questions than I should. Things take a dark turn as the secret I fought all my life to protect gets uncovered by the deadliest magical mob boss in the city. Now, my best chance at survival is down to a cocky criminal and a bookman that is too clever for his own good. As their presence haunts my every waking hour and the situation gets dire, I don’t know if I can keep fighting this relentless pull between us.

Finn

I have focused on only one thing for the last three years—work. But when Riley comes into my bookshop, searching for a way to undo the tracking spell placed on her, I am caught up in a journey that ushers me right back to the one man I am trying to forget. I was his to cherish, his to punish, yet the worst wound he gave me was not a physical one. And she might be my salvation.

Erick

My blood is made of hunger and fight, which serves me well on my side of the law. No one but him knows who I am or where I come from. And I have all the intentions for it to stay that way. But when witches start to disappear in the city and no one, not even the Sennex, does a damn thing about it, I make it my business to investigate. Grave mistake. My efforts only lead me to desires I should steer clear of and discoveries darker than I could ever fathom. I fought to keep them away, to keep them safe, but life is never as kind as to bring hope without taking something in return.    

Witchy meets steamy in this tale of soul-wrenching magnetism, dreadful secrets, and magic that could wreck the world.

Potion Master is a slow burn dark urban fantasy MMF romance. It’s book 1 in the Fate Cycle series.

Amazon

Excerpt from Potion Master :

The blue liquid is shimmering like its magic is trying to get out. One of my better cocktail recipes, I would say. The Siren, I call it, in honor of Evie. Even though she is not one of those long-extinct creatures, her voice bewitches her crowd all the same. Her tales captivate the audience with their rhythm and poesy.

“Hey! Will you give me my drink or not?” the patron shouts over the buzz of the crowded room.

Keeping hold of the glass, I swiftly glide it over the wooden bar toward him. “I don’t know, Carl. Maybe a little more respect and a smile now and then could do miracles for your shitty personality and help you get what you want.” I look the bastard straight in the eye, drink the shot myself, and take the money he had put on the bar top to pay for it. The liquid goes down like the charm that it is, giving me a boost of strength and energy in its wake.

Carl seizes my gloved forearm, “Listen, girl, I know that you’re new here, but when I ask—”

His touch is gone in an instant. A big, burly man hauls Carl by the collar of his shirt toward the pub’s door. Albert’s gray-brown ponytail sways in time with Carl’s feet off the ground as he carries Carl out the door. If I didn’t hate being manhandled by drunk pieces of shit so much, I would be laughing at the sight.

Albert grunts as he throws Carl on his ass out in the street. “Take the rest of the night to cool off,” Albert says, his voice deceptively calm. “The next time you touch one of my employees, you will lose your hand. Is that understood?”

Carl has the good sense to shut his mouth and skitter off. The patrons all shout in triumph and merrily raise their glasses to Albert. When he turns from the door, Albert’s green eyes find me. His face is all red under his thick beard. I nod my head once to show him that I am okay and can handle myself. It’s not my first rodeo, after all.

I don’t have much time to dwell on what happened, though. The Drunken Sailor is packed tonight. Every sticky table and disparate chair is in use. A small crowd has already gathered before the stage in the corner where my best friend will perform tonight, sipping their drinks. The decor is no different than any other Irish pub in Québec City. The only noticeable distinction really is the customers themselves—the vast majority of them have magical abilities or ties to the magical world.

My long black hair annoys me tonight, so I quickly tie it up in a messy bun before filling another pint of my first batch of beer to give to Albert as he passes behind me in the bar area. Then I go back to the steady flow of orders coming in. I am very proud of my first brew. It’s a white ale with faint notes of lavender and rosemary. The balanced taste of the herbs makes for a bittersweet lightness that, contrary to popular belief, doesn’t taste like perfume.

Being potion master and lead brewer are both my pride and my passion in life. It also allows me to work anywhere, in any magical establishment I want, since there are a lot of people that seem to either want to get drunk or out of a hangover—or another predicament—at some point. My healing balms and potions are particularly good if I do say so myself.

Healing is my specialty, after all, and I was well taught. Diane. A sharp pang of grief makes my eyes water at the reminder of my mentor’s passing. They say that home is where the heart is. Well, it feels like my home vanished with her last breath. Throughout the years, she’d always been there for me—be it to kick me in the butt for acting stupid or to help me regain my footing after yet another failed attempt at making something of my life. Her passing is too fresh for me to be able to recall the good memories of her with fondness or a smile. I am still at the anger stage, where every fiber of my being wants to cry hysterically and punch a wall about it, hating death, hating myself for not being able to heal her. I wipe furiously at my eyes and wrestle my mind into a better headspace.

I was lucky to get this job. The Drunken Sailor is one of the best breweries in the province, and its owner is allowing me carte blanche to do with the product creation as I please. All the equipment is state of the art despite the pub’s building being more than a century old—and looking it.

Perfect work arrangements, awesome new apartment, my best friend nearby—it’s all I need, really. This time, I will plant roots. This time, I won’t bolt at the very first mild inconvenience—I can’t. I have no one left to catch me from a fall. I am here to stay, and I mean it.

At the table by the door, four casters are playing at levitating objects in the air while arm wrestling. The first to either lose the strength contest or lose their concentration and drop their object pays for the next round of alcohol. A stupid game if you ask me, but still fun to watch and good for the tip.

Evie pokes her head out from the kitchen door with a mouthful of I don’t even want to know what. “Hey, Ry! I’m on in a couple of minutes,” she says while finishing chewing. “Do you need anything before I get up there?” She motions toward the stage with her head. The movement makes her silver dress sparkle in the dim light, contrasting nicely with the soft coffee of her skin. She recently buzzed her hair close to her head, which accentuates the graceful curve of her neck.

Her hazel eyes drift to the liquid I am currently mixing. She looks fascinated and with good reason. As soon as I sprinkle my last ingredient into the potion—dried hibiscus flowers—red fire seems to emanate from it, although it’s not hot to the touch. Passion is a difficult thing to capture, and it’s always mesmerizing when it’s encapsulated successfully. It’s easily the most expensive thing we sell here. Only one swig is needed to fuel your inspirations and fantasies, allowing you to create at will. Although it cannot put ideas into your head, it will allow you to birth your ideas into the world. Well, until it wears off, that is. I pour the liquid into a small vial and hand it over to the young woman who ordered it.

“I’m fine,” I tell Evie over my shoulder. “I don’t need you mothering me.” I wink at my best friend and turn back to the clientele at the bar. I hear her huff and puff before letting the kitchen door swing behind her. Not a minute later, she swaggers onto the stage, her generous hips swaying as she walks. The usual auditory chaos of the pub falls to whispers.

We’ve always been complete opposites, Evie and I. Where my best friend shines bright on stage, I prefer the darkness at the back of the room. She is all heat and sensuality, while I am all frost and contrast. My moonlight skin, she calls it. Which is a nice way of saying that I am ghostly pale.

As soon as Evie opens her mouth to sing, the crowd starts to sway in time with the rhythm of her voice. The ones closest to the stage are completely enthralled by her story of epic love. They smile and huddle closer together, not aware that they are moving. The casters abandon their game to stare in fascination. As far away as I am, I only feel a small wave of fullness and happiness, but it’s still very nice. I have not experienced the brush of love for a very long time.

I pour the next beer directly onto my gloved hand, which then splashes onto my black tank top and jeans. I curse and shake my head slightly. I must have been more affected by her singing than I thought. Taking off my gloves and wiping them on a dish towel, I smile to myself. I have not been exposed to her kind of powers for some time now. I’ve lost part of the endurance I had built for it.

When I finally succeed at mostly drying my clothes, I throw the rag in the sink and lift my head to take the next order, but most of the patrons have now moved from the bar to the tables closer to the stage, listening quietly.

Most, but not all.

  About the Author:

Sam is a Canadian author of dark fantasy romance and dark urban fantasy romance with a healthy dose of spice (because why not?). She loves daydreaming about new characters and can often be found staring into the abyss of the great nothingness, completely lost in thought. She also dislikes talking about herself in the third person. Hence, I’m going to stop this author bio here. 

I am deeply grateful for every reader who takes time out of their day to lay their eyeballs on one of my books. I couldn’t be an author without you. 

Website - https://www.samfairburn.com  

Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/samfairburnauthor  

Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/samfairburnauthor/  

TikTok - https://www.tiktok.com/@samfairburnauthor   

YouTube - https://www.youtube.com/@samfairburnauthor 

Newsletter sign up - https://samfairburnpublishing.eo.page/xwz17  

Goodreads - https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/44354199.Sam_Fairburn 

Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/GplLWYBjBpE

[vimeddiart]

Strangers

Patron-voted fic of my D&D beeflings! Read the previous comic and the first comic for this series for context!

On AO3

Clang.

Clang.

Clang.

The zinging cadence of his hammer hitting a new blade usually tempers his fraught emotions and lessens their intensity. The rhythm and beat usually calms him, the heat of the furnace and the steady drip of sweat as well. Except his heart thunders on and his breathing remains irregular and his eyes sting—not from stray embers or errant drops of perspiration—and his agitation grows.

It grows so powerfully that he miscalculates and swings his hammer much too harshly, breaking the blade he was trying to fashion which frustrates him further and he throws down his tools with a clatter, pressing the gloved heels of his hands to his brow.

Lazlo.

Tuhka releases a trembling breath.

Barely a day had passed since he had regurgitated all of the regret and agony of his childhood friend’s death right into said friend’s face before gracelessly fleeing, the bitter taste of tears still on his tongue and Lazlo’s look of resounding disbelief haunting him even here in the safety of his forge.

It wasn’t fair.

Why must he have been forced to carry the burden of grief and guilt for so many years? All those moments of remembrance, thinking of a friend—the only one he ever had— ripped away from the world much too soon, endless nights of pain and suffering, wishing he’d been taken instead...and for what? Lazlo was alive. Had been for perhaps as long as Tuhka had grieved his loss.

How much hatred—or worse, indifference—must Lazlo have harboured to fail in seeking Tuhka out...to reassure him, to reunite with him, to talk with him. They had been family.

Tuhka wrenches off his gloves and tosses them to the side, stalking towards the entrance of his smithy for some air, unable to concentrate anymore on his craft. His hands shake when he grasps the wrought iron gate.

A sound distracts him for a moment, one that carries over on the salty evening breeze that cools the sweat of his brow. Gravel crushed underfoot. It’s gone in an instant and even with his sharp hearing, Tuhka strains to listen for something further, ears swivelling in the hopes to catch it.

It doesn’t take too much investigation to track down the source of the sound once he decides to; a dark figure perched somewhat dejectedly on a boulder that offsets a scenic cliffside path Tuhka often takes to clear his head.

“You didn’t waste your grief, if that’s what you’re bothered about,” the figure says.

Tuhka’s breath leaves him in a rush as he’s met with a familiar blue gaze. He feels pulled forward by some invisible thread and settles himself on the far edge of the same boulder, leaving a bit of distance between them.

Lazlo sighs, drops his head into his hands. “When you left that day and never came back, I...believed you’d abandoned me, that you’d made good on your promise—”

“That was a child’s threat, I never meant to—” Tuhka began, needing to explain despite the betrayal he felt, still very fresh, that had upended years of mourning.

The other tiefling shook his head, dropping his hands away from his face and letting them fall to his lap. “I made a terrible decision, I paid for it,” the spectral left hand twitches and Tuhka notices it properly for the first time, heart squeezing despite everything and mind filling with more questions, “and I...went away for a long time. I didn’t think to look for you...I thought you despised me.”

He releases a mirthless laugh. “I don’t think I would’ve found you anyway. I’d have been looking for someone...quite different.”

Tuhka swallows hard. “I’ve...probably grown a bit since you last saw me.”

This startles a small, but real, laugh out of Lazlo, even if it does sound a little wet.

After a pause, Tuhka gathers strength from the stars and attempts to keep his voice steady. “That day...I went back for you. I did. I wasn’t going to, I was about to start a new life away from those bloody mines and I was so angry with you that I hoped you would stew in them forever...but then I remembered you wanted to get out just as desperately as I did and we swore to do it together so I went back to fetch you.”

Tuhka didn’t dare raise his eyes to Lazlo’s face, staring intently at his own hands grasping his knees even though the image was beginning to waver and blur.

“It was snowing and freezing and I walked through it without stopping, thinking that I would see you soon and whisk us away to a better place, until I saw the smoke from over the hill and I knew you’d gone ahead with our plan without me,” Tuhka let out a shuddering breath, “they said you got crushed in the tunnel along with that bastard foreman. Don’t remember much of what happened after that...just that I’d gone to fetch you and came back empty-handed.”

Tears flowed freely, despite previously believing he had run out of tears to shed. From the corner of his eye he noticed Lazlo wipe his face with a pure, white square of cloth.

“Told you the truth though…” Tuhka continued, after a none-too-discreet sniff, “mourned you like a piece of me had died. Couldn’t think of much else for a good few years,” He runs a forearm over his face roughly and finally turns to Lazlo, raw and exposed, “I would’ve looked for you in a heartbeat if I’d known you were alive. I would’ve.”

Lazlo lets out a sound like an animal in pain, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks that he no longer tries to wipe away. “I didn’t know...I didn’t know— I mucked up my plan and ending up losing everything, I— I was trapped for years without knowing how much time passed, I was...I was isolated from the outside in a way you won’t be able to understand but you must believe me, I never wanted to lose you—”

That final crack in Lazlo’s voice is what forces Tuhka to move closer and wrap an arm around his shoulders, mumbling soothing words until the sobs that wrack Lazlo’s frame subside. It reminds him of when he was younger—and much smaller—when Lazlo would do the same for him after a tumble, a run in with the awful foreman, or when overcome with a sadness he couldn’t understand, much less explain. Lazlo would have been there to comfort him, always.

As if hearing his thoughts, Lazlo lets out a tremulous sigh. “...Tables have turned, hm?”

Tuhka makes a tentatively amused sound in response. There is a whirlwind of emotion to wade through, but he can take this moment just to experience how real and solid Lazlo is. That he’s back.

“A right pair of bellends we turned out to be,” he ends up saying.

“Quite.” Lazlo sniffs, but there’s a small, albeit watery, smile on his lips as he straightens out of Tuhka’s one-armed embrace, and Tuhka tries not to let the empty feeling that remains affect him too much.

Something that has been niggling in the back of Tuhka’s mind takes on more force and the reason finally dawns on him.

“You sound different.”

Lazlo finishes wiping his face with a fresh, white handkerchief and makes a noise, muffled by the fabric.

“Yes, ah...I trained out the accent I used to have and replaced it with a new one.”

Tuhka blinks. “What’s wrong with your old accent? That’s the accent I have! I got it from you!”

“I needed to, ah...move in higher circles of society and I couldn’t very well sound like a common miner, could I?”

Tuhka opens his mouth to argue, a nostalgia for their juvenile arguments filling him in a split second, but Lazlo interrupts, “You know, we don’t have to speak Common if you’d prefer.”

They fall back on Infernal so naturally that Tuhka has to swallow a lump in his throat and keep the waver out of his voice. He never thought he would have this again. He’s a little rusty and out of practice but that doesn’t seem to matter in the moment—it’s like they’re back in the mines, speaking their language out of earshot of the foreman, making plans for the future in a world that was all dreams.

Tuhka tells Lazlo how he adopted Ooria (and not the other way round as she claimed to recall) and how she had helped him find his true self. He tells him about his work, his smithy and how he made a home on this cliff by the ocean. He doesn’t talk about the painful things, like crying himself to sleep every night for years from missing him, or the search for his adoptive mother who was now lost.

Lazlo talks about— what Tuhka suspects is— superficial milestones, his expertise in identifying gemstones, the places he’s visited and the night skies he has lain under and commemorated on his skin. Tuhka notices the glittering constellations peeking out of Lazlo’s clothes and his heart thumps, wanting to ask what made them special enough to wear permanently but he stops himself...still feeling like a stranger. There’s an undercurrent of darkness in Lazlo’s vague statements, of secrets untold, and Tuhka is slightly surprised by a keen disappointment that bubbles within him at not being trusted with them.

There’s a lull in conversation, an impending finality that Tuhka does not appreciate. He refuses to remain a stranger as well, which prompts him to realise that he hasn’t even properly introduced himself yet.

Feeling bold, he holds a hand out in the human way. “Tuhka Turunen.”

Lazlo’s gaze lands on the proffered hand and then flickers up to Tuhka’s face, seeming to weigh his options. He breathes out a laugh and leans forward, ignoring the hand to press his forehead slowly but firmly against Tuhka’s in customary tiefling fashion. An echo of the greeting they shared when they first met as children.

“Lazarus Astrophel,” whispers the tiefling formerly known as Lazlo.

Tuhka smiles. “Nice to meet you, Lazarus.”

They part and Lazlo—Lazarus—clears his throat, “My close acquaintances sometimes call me Laz. You may do so, after all we’re—” a beat of hesitation, “—old friends.”

His vibrant blue eyes are on Tuhka, almost as if expecting him to disagree. Tuhka doesn’t.

“Laz,” he says, smiling, “lot less likely to get mixed up with that.”

The sea breeze sighs around them, ruffling hair and clothing. Tuhka watches as Lazarus gets to his feet.

“It’s late. I should be going.”

Panic flickers through Tuhka. “You’re leaving?”

“I have business in town for a day or two, I’m staying at an inn there...The King’s Cushion?”

Tuhka nods, recognising the name. He gets to his feet as well, unintentionally towering over Lazarus.

“Stars...I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that.” Lazarus grimaces.

“You’re welcome to visit,” Tuhka blurts out, trying to keep any semblance of desperation out of his voice and getting the impression that he failed, “you wanted to commission something, we can talk about that whenever you like.”

After a moment of confusion, Lazarus’ expression clears. “Ah, right, yes, that was what got us into this mess in the first place, wasn’t it? Yes,” he smiles, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

This time when he leaves, it’s with a lot less anger than moments after their first confrontation only days ago, and with a promise to come back. They had once shared everything, even their deepest desires. Now, after fifteen years apart, they’ve become completely different people—the fact that Lazarus came here, willing to talk, making promises to return even if there’s a chance he may not keep them...it’s a start. And that will have to be enough for now.

Tuhka sits back down once Lazarus has vanished from sight down the path and gazes up at the same stars he had begged night after night to return his best friend to him.

He thanks them for listening.

[cherrysha]

Uvo’s First Time With You

This is tooth rottingly sweet Uvo because i really cant help myself. im weak fr that big ass boi.

Requests are Open atm

Summary : I have this headcanon where Uvo doesn’t physically punish his girl *ahem* captive fr not wanting him... he just slips her a lil smthn smthn at dinner one night..

Word Count: 3,691

Warnings: dubcon/noncon, Yandere!Uvo, drugs, unprotected sex, cockwarming, kidnapping, tiniest mention of blood, mentions of violence, aaand I think thats it.

As per usual 18+ crowd here. No minors should be reading this.

He just sits there after dinner, quieter than usual as he waits for it to kick in.

His arm draped across the back of the couch and he just feels you slowly start to squirm around more and more, he lets his eyes wander over you.

“Is everything okay sweetheart?”

“Yeah...it’s just.. really hot in here Uvo” you whisper to him.

And you saying his name like that,, already so needy for...something, has him trying to hide the smirk on his face.

“I’ll adjust the temperature for you then.”

And beFORE he even has a chance to get up your whining at him not to leave. (which is COMPLETELY out of character since you usually are uncomfortable just being around this giant of a man who quite literally kidnapped you)

“I just wanna lay down Uvo.. I don’t feel good”

And there it is again. Usually he can’t even get you to look him in the eye but nOW?! Your saying his name and clutching onto his t-shirt like ur fighting the urge to wrap yourself around him.

He nods his head, keeping a straight face as he gruffly replies with “Go lay down then”

You just let out an impatient sigh and bury your face into his side.

And the bastard KNOWS you want HIM to lay down with you!! But he wants to hear you say it. Wants to see that pretty blush on your face when you get flustered.

You whine out “Uvo...” and stare at him, mentally trying to communicate your need without having to say it out loud. Not really understanding what you want, or maybe you do but you’re so far in denial that you don’t want to acknowledge it.

“Tell me what you want or I won’t give you anything at all.”

And he watches as a pout makes its way across your features.

With a huff you crawl into his lap, arms reaching as far up his tall frame as they can to grip onto his shirt again. Pressing yourself completely against him. You make eye contact for the first time that night.

“I - I want you to lay down with me... please Uvo?”

To say he’s shocked is an understatement

The man is beyond words. It’s only been 15 minutes since he slipped you the drugs and you’re already more comfortable with him than you’ve been since he took you months ago.

“All you had to do was ask sweetheart.”

It’s only been seconds from your statement and you don’t even care about laying down anymore. Can’t even really remember that you were having a conversation or what it was even about. All you can think of now is how hot you are, how your clothing is too itchy and constricting. Your skin is on fire.

Uvo’s body temperature is way hotter than yours normally, and even now he’s still very warm. But to you it feels like heaven. His warmth like a soothing balm over your skin.

“Uvo I need.. I need to take this off” you squirm and try your hardest not to fall off his lap as you wrestle out of your shirt.

His grip on your hips tightens a little. You miss the groan that manages to pass through his lips, too distracted with your own mission of getting out of the straight jacket of a shirt.

He watches you for a minute, panting at the way you’re accidentally grinding down on him. So focused on getting comfortable that you completely forget where your sitting, or that Uvo’s eyes are watching you undress.

“L-Lets get you into bed first sugar” and he removes your clenched fists from the fabric of your shirt. He’s playing the part of an innocent man, but his true motive is that he wants to savor this. He doesn’t want to rush through the moment so quickly that he doesn’t have time to truly indulge in it. To drown in it.

At this point the drugs are kicking in HARD. All you can think of is your need for.. something. You just need it. And the frustration from the denial is mixing with the pain in your gut.

“No Uvo! I need it off.. all of it off! Please it hurts so bad. Please Uvo...”

You’re crying now, hitting his chest weakly with your closed fists.

Uvo’s lap us soaked from the wetness betwen your thighs. He’s not sure if you even notice. That along with the way you’re throwing your little hissy fit, squirming all over him has his head leaning back against the couch, stifling the moan that’s threatening to make it past his clenched jaw.

He collects himself, taking a deep breath before standing up, hands firmly planted on your ass to keep you as close as possible to his body.

He’s so tall that he has you pressed against his lower abdomen, your legs wrapped as far around his trunk of a torso as they can.

Your moving harder in his hands, panting as he takes you up the stairs.

At first he thinks youre struggling to get away from him, so used to your rejection that it takes him a minute to realize you’re rubbing your clothed crotch against his stomach, sighing at the friction of it.

You don’t even realize your doing it tbh. The drugs clouding your mind of any awareness you had. All you know is that moving your hips is making the pain in your gut a little more tolerable.

Uvo stops and just watches. Your breathing heavy as you rub yourself against him, little whispers of his name passing through your parted lips.

He realizes in that moment that he’s a goner. He expected this to be different, expected you to fight against it tooth and nail just like you fought against him over the months he’s had you. He knows you won’t stay this needy, but even now the intimacy you’ve shown him is enough to last him years to come. He’s prepared to go through whatever means necessary to feel this again.

You don’t even register he’s stopped or his heavy gaze watching you intently. You grab his shirt, hiking it up so you can feel the dips and curves of his stomach, greedily soaking up the soothing warmth against your hands, your body still unconsciously moving against his now exposed chest. 

He listens to you moan in relief, watches as your face contorts in pleasure. Uvo starts walking again, albeit a little quicker this time. His mind wandering to the warm slick you’ve just covered his stomach with. He’s painfully hard, needing it just as much as you do.

And in all honesty I don’t think Uvo could deny you anything besides leaving him ofc.

So he gets you in bed and helps you remove everything besides your underwear even though you tried to take that off too and just waits for it... lays there and holds you, waiting for you to tell him what you want from him.

Yes, he could take you by force if he wanted to but this man craves your love and he knows if you give in willingly you know besides the fact he drugged you you’ll see him as your savior. There for you when your hurting, aching, desperately needing help. 

“Uvo.. please.. shirt off” is all he can make out of your incoherent mumbling.

And this fucker

“Your shirt is already off baby”

He’s making it difficult on purpose. Stringing you out so he can see you sob for him.

“No...no. You undress. Please? Please..”

And that’s enough.

His patience is wearing thin. Months and months of craving you. Wanting you to love him but only getting one word replies and scared tears had him yearning for your affection, to the point it made him sick.

He’s never wanted anything as desperately as he’s wanted you. And you wanting him back? He’ll do anything to have his feelings reciprocated.

He takes everything off, even stripping out of his boxers.

You sob when he pulls away to shuck out of his clothing, fat tears sliding down your face at the loss of his touch.

It only takes him seconds but it’s long enough to have you in hysterics

He shushes you, laying you on his chest as he wraps an arm around your waist. Running his fingers through your hair, whispering in your ear:

“It’s okay”

“I’m here”

“I’m not leaving you baby”

Until you’ve calmed down. His skin on yours is a godsend. You actually kiss him first, moving in as he’s whispering to you and catching him off guard.

It’s open mouthed and sloppy, your need making you desperate.

When he starts to kiss you back you whine into his mouth, not being able to stop yourself from moving your hips.

Uvo grunts, letting himself roll up against you; loving the squeak you let out into his mouth as his hands grasp your hips.

He could stop right now and it would still be the best moment of his life. His tongue in your mouth tasting your desire and his hips moving in tandem with yours. It’s heaven.

To you it’s pure ecstasy. You’ve never experienced this type of gut wrenching pain before. A need so desperate you’ll do anything to quell it.

Even if it meant letting your captor fuck you senseless.

You’re unashamed. There is no room in your head to think about such things when your body is on fire like this, burning as your floor muscles clench and unclench so hard it’s excruciating. Trying desperately to squeeze around something and adding to the fire when they find nothing.

The little drop of relief you felt with Uvo was enough to spur you on. If he was the cure then consequences be damned. You were trapped anyway.

You learned you couldn’t outrun him, definitely couldn’t fight him, and now you’d just proven that given a little push you’d actually be with him. You let the thoughts float away

If this was your bed, you’d lay in it.

“Y/n” he lets out a grunt as the spot between your thighs coats his cock through the soaked fabric of your panties.

“Y/n... let me take these off.”

You don’t respond. Instead you grind down harder against him.

Uvo tears the flimsy material off of you body, your bra following soon after.

He’s watching the way your breasts bounce at the force, eyes only ripping away when a high pitched whine leaves your throat.

Your eyes are closed, only focusing on his cock sliding between your folds with every glide of your hips.

Hot and thick, you sob with relief. And still, it wasn’t enough.

“Please Uvo”

“Please what baby? What do you want?”

And with the most conviction you’ve had tonight you beg him “I need you inside of me. Please Uvo. Make it stop.”

He’s breathless. You’ve never wanted anything. No gift would satisfy you, no amount of money could buy your love. And with one measly pill he’s got you writhing on top of him, begging for him to fill you up with his cock.

It gives him a head rush. The only thing you’ve ever asked for is to be stuffed full.

And we all know Uvo is packing some heat right?

Uvo even knows he’s huge, and right now this mans ain’t trying to tear you open unless you wanted him to.

Even though he wants nothing more than to simply seat himself fully inside the tight clutch of your warmth, and god how easy it’d be in this position to just pick you up and sit you down on his length, he flips over. Being careful not to use too much strength in his excited state, so you’re laying beneath him on the bed.

You’re disoriented, and by the time you even fully process what’s happened he’s got his middle finger knuckle deep inside of you.

You arch your back, vision going black and mouth opening into a silent scream with how hard you cum just from one drop of relief.

And he’s trying so fucking hard to keep it together. The way your eyes roll back and your sex already trying so desperately to milk him, tightly clenching and unclenching around his digit.

He’s sure you’re going to drive him mad with desire.

You catch your breath and Uvo’s panting along with you too.

“Did that feel good baby?” And you nod up at him, still too dazed to speak.

“I bet you needed that huh?” smiling down at you, eyes blown wide with lust.

But even though his finger is plenty thick enough, it’s like your body KNOWS that it wasn’t his cock. You still ache for him, the release just pouring gasoline to the flames licking up your spine.

Your voice is just a whisper when you ask him

“More...” you look up at him, lips puffy and trails of tears running down your face. “Please”

And not for the first time tonight, Uvo almost snaps. He closes his eyes, blinking slowly before he takes a deep breath.

“Fuck baby... yeah, yeah I know what you want. Just. Just let me get you ready first okay?”

You give a reluctant nod and Uvo slides a second finger into you.

Any pain you feel at how thick he is, is masked by the spine curling burn in your veins. All you feel from the stretch is white hot pleasure.

And with a shaky breath your thanking him again, boosting his ego as he flicks his wrist to push and pull at the heat clutching around his fingers.

It feels like he’s stuck in a vice. So tight and wet for him... only ever for him. Eyes blown wide he watches as you shake beneath him, chasing any chance of stopping the pain you feel. He scissors his fingers open. He needs to stretch you out enough to fit.

When you start to get close again he pulls out. While he does want to draw this out, he mostly does it out of curiosity. Wants to see what you’ll do when denied your pleasure.

He gets his answer quickly as you let out a scream of frustration, moving your hands from the sheets beneath you to grip his hair, using all your strength to try and get his mouth down to yours in search of any piece of him you can get.

Obviously he doesn’t budge he’s like a thousand times stronger than you. BUT you do succeed in lifting yourself up to meet his lips, biting at them with a low growl in your throat.

For once in this relationship Uvo feels completely in control. He has you right where he wants you. Completely feral for him. Your reward is not only the return of his digits, but also a third finger fucking deeply into you as well.

“Lay back down” he growls out “ be a good girl for me again”

And you do. You’ll do anything for him. A sigh leaves your lips as the pain recedes, replaced with the pleasure Uvo is giving you. It towed a thin line between pain. Any time he slowed down it creeped into your consciousness again. He was your salvation, your only respite from whatever was doing this to you.

He’s your god, and after what felt like forever, he finally answers your prayers.

“S’gunna sting baby. Don’ wanna hurt you but I can’t... I can’t take any more.”

His fingers are gone. In their place is the head of his cock sliding between the soft petals of your pussy.

Uvo moans at the feeling. The feeling of you wanting him, slick and waiting for him.

Such a pretty little thing. He wants to mark you up, leave your body bruised with his signature. To feel the weight of your breasts in his mouth. Wants to bite down gently on your shoulder and taste the iron of your blood on his tongue. To feel your lips swallowing around him, to drown in the taste of your cunt as it clenches on his tongue. He wants every single part of you. But most of all, He wants to ruin you.

You moan, pulling him out of his reverie. “I - I need more Uvo! Not enough, please.”

All of those things can wait for now. His focus in this moment is on making you realize just how much you need him.

Gritting his teeth he slides the tip in, watching with wide eyes as it disappears inside of you.

It’s stretches you out, a whine escaping at the noticble sting of it. Uvo watches your face before slowly plunging deeper within you. You let out a cry as he stretches you out.

after a few pushes and pulls, slowly fucking you open Uvo finally sinks down until he’s fully sheathed inside, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

He’s paralyzed for a moment, his attention solely on how warm and wet you are. It’s firm yet gentle around him. Better than everything he imagined. Like silk, only alive, and he swears he can feel your heartbeat enveloping him.

He buries his head in your neck, licking a stripe up a line of sweat until he’s kissing you again. Swallowing every whimper that slips past your swollen lips.

His mouth stays on yours as he slowly pulls back and ruts his hips against yours completely for the first time. You’re scratching his back and god he wishes you could mark him up. Wishes beyond measure that he could carry the sting of you wherever he goes.

“Yeah..right t-there. Fuck!”

 Your shy demeanor is being forcibly torn away. This is the first time he’s heard you curse, the sound of it making him let out a low growl. Thoughts of how he’s awoken some part of you he’d never seen before floating into his mind. his dirty little girl... he wonders how far he can push you until it becomes too much? It’s a question for another day. One where you’re used to taking his hard length, a day he’s not fucking you open.

“Tell me how you feel sweetheart”

You can’t even remember your own name, let alone construct a fully fledged sentence for the man above you. He’s pressing something deep within you that’s making your head even more dizzy than it was before. You clutch him as he rolls onto his back, laying you on his chest as he swivels his hips up into you, lazily grinding against your clit until your mewling.

“You needed this? Needed me? Just too shy to say it...”

He’s rambling, too far gone with pleasure to dice his words.

“Wanted to fill you up for a long time. You love this huh sweetheart? Love me inside of you like this.. so tight, made for me...All mine.” And then he quiets for a moment. His thoughts leading him elsewhere.

He pulls you tighter against his chest, your name falling from his lips like a prayer. Trailing his hand down to your clit, picking up the pace as he feels the beginning of your orgasm approach.

The pain is a distant memory at this point. The only feeling now was the all consuming pleasure Uvo was giving you. You try to writhe against him as the coil in your stomach threatens to snap, but his grip is iron clad on you. You’re so close, so close that your back starts to try to arch against him.

But with grunt he pulls completely out of you, steeling himself against the agonized wail that pass through your lips.

 “Tell me you love me y/n.”

The denial.. the pain slowly consuming you once again. Your cunt clenches around nothing, broken cries leaving your dry throat.

“Say it and I’ll make you feel better. I’m the only one who can make you feel like this. “

He’s tense but his words are desperate. Brows furrowed as you try, and fail, to squirm out of his grip.

“Uvo...”

“Say it for me sweetheart.”

You gulp, the choice excruciatingly clear as the seconds tick on.

Uvo I ... I love you.” it’s whisper quiet but the way that his fucks back up into your aching core with renewed vigor is proof enough that he’s heard you.

Delirious with your confession he starts talking again. Mumbles interlaced with his sounds of pleasure of how good you are, how tight, how he’d kill anyone who harmed you, whatever you want is yours just say the word, he’s yours. All of him until he draws his last breath.

As he hits that sweet spot inside of you again and again and again the coil snaps. A pleasured cry wrenches what little voice you have left from your sore throat as you’re hit full force. You can’t help how your body thrashes to escape his grip. He makes you cum so hard you almost pass out, black dots clouding your vision as he stills inside of you.

He stops thinking, stops talking as his mouth falls open at the clench of your pussy around him. You squeeze his length, so hard that he doesn’t have to move to cum. He lets your body finish him as he plays with your clit, turning a deaf ear to your overstimulated whine. 

The feeling of your pussy milking the rest of his release inside of you quickly becoming addicting. He’s never cum so hard in his life.

Months of pent of frustration paint your walls, the warmth seeming to soothe what is left of the painful ache of the drugs in your system. You let out a sigh of relief and relax as Uvo moves so he can spoon you, making sure to stay firmly rooted between your legs.

He pets your hair and whispers praises between gentle kiseses to you neck. You must be so exhausted, he knows. You let your eyelids droop, nows not the time to think about consequences. With Uvo’s strong arms wrapped around you, his cock still buried deep, you let yourself be lulled to sleep.

[queenoftheworldisdead]

Blood of the King

Chapter 1

⚠️Warning: Talks of abortion, violence⚠️

Note: This is my second attempt at a Royal AU series. Inspired by Roo’s work. Don’t want to tag her to my garbage LOL... Not the best here at world building, but like i think i’m getting better each time. Any critiques are WELCOME.

Summery: Loki has a plan to be King.

Dark Loki x Black Reader, Royal AU

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Today the palace was a buzz with festivities. His royal highness Stark decided on a whim to throw a celebration yet again. The occasion you couldn't recall as he had thrown so many just this month.

*Boom

The commotion outside was loud and eventful. King Stark's lavish party had no doubt gone out of control again. You remembered one evening the royal court drunkenly shot cannons into the royal shire using the sheep and cattle as targets. Scaring half the Kingdom into thinking it had come under siege.

Though something seemed very different then the sounds that you were accustom to.

*Boom

There was a faint whistle in the distance and crashing sounds. Suddenly the chamber shook and the walls rattled. Crumbs of ceiling splintered and bits trickled down leaving dust to coat the hall.

You were on your way back to the chamber with fresh sheets and   a canter of fresh water when you heard  struggling. The muffled cries of your mother bellowed out through the cracked door.

Peering in you see two men, one holding her in a choke hold while the other stood in front blocking your view and watched. Their armor unfamiliar to you, you watch them frozen in horror.

----

Your mother let out a loud shriek followed by a gurgling that decreased in volume the longer it went on. The man blocking your view stepped back that's when you saw it. Your mother's body hit the floor with a thud, her throat sliced open blood pooling on the floor around them all.

"Where is the younger one? There should've been two"

"We need her alive" the other said as he sheathed his blade.

Dropping everything a loud clanging drew their attention, turning away you ran down the corridor.

Immediately you were met with another body. Crashing into it, his arms secured you in place as you shrieked and screamed. In your frenzy you looked at him and to your relief when you saw Barron Obadiah, an alley to the crown.

"M-men your lordship...S-strange men have killed m-my m-mother" you sob out.

---

"Shit that bastard! Come with me." Obadiah ordered, wrenching your arm he dragged you through the hall. His touch pained your forearm, but it was a pain you would great-fully bare to escape those men.

There was a frenzy of servants running up and down the halls. Screams and the strong stench of smoke enveloped in every direction. You looked to him for answers when he stopped to survey a corner hall, but he said nothing then tread onward.

You were scared. The castle rocked and shivered. He marched you down the hall. Mail clinked and clacked from all around along with the familiar smell of copper. Known to you to be most definitely blood.

Was the kingdom was truly under siege?

*Boom

An explosion raddled the walls with such force that Obadiah almost fell to the floor taking you with him. Luckily he caught himself on a wall and hurried through the crumbling castle.

You could feel the birth of a bruise under the stead fast grip of Barron Obadiah. The pain mixed with the clouded air irritated your eyes and filled you will nausea and dizziness.

"You brainless cow hurry!" he barked at you.

He sprinted and turned down so many hallways you found yourself lost despite your tenure. Obadiah suddenly stopped short of a door, opening it thrusting you inside. Latching it closed behind himself. The room was spars, nothing but a table and map tapestries. The far wall held a Stark banner. He made his way to it moving the banner aside revealing a door. He passed through first and you followed after. The dimly lit passage whined down in a spiral pattern. 

There was a dim light that grew the closer down you went. You huffed and panted with every step and he cursed your sluggishness. The ruckus could only faintly be heard the further down you went. You were a sweaty mess by the time you reached the last rung of the stone steps.

The stairwell turned into a narrow hall. Awaiting at the end of it a meek fellow with a horse drawn two wheeled cart.

You looked at Obadiah confused as to what was to transpire here. He sprinted down the corridor so fast that you would have found it humorous if you weren't so scared and confused. He reached the  man and by the flailing of his arms you knew it could not be good.

Why was he yelling at this man? What was going on? Was he to ride in this meek two wheeled cart? Would he make you walk behind the it?

You could barely keep pace with him doubtful you could keep step with a mare. This whole thing was preposterous.

After the barrage of insults the man walked to the back of the cart and lifted the tarp. The cart was filled with barrels.

Obadiah called your name as he marched over to you.

"The castle is under siege we must hurry" he said flatly. There was no time for questions and even if you asked you doubt he would’ve answered.

"Keep your head down and follow close behind him. Do you understand." He barked as he loaded himself onto the cart.

Looking at him worried, you trembled as you shook 'Yes'. "As soon as you see the docks I want you to knock on this barrel." You watched as he pointed. The owner of the cart tossed the tarp over Obadiah once he seated himself. His broad frame mirroring one of the many barrels in the cart.

---

You were not royalty, but your clothes where of the royal brand. Even to the untrained eye you would surely be seen as a royal slave. Walking with this man would've been out of place. With the madness going on about the kingdom you only hoped that the invaders cared not for slaves.

The stranger said nothing, only leading his mare by its reigns. You lowered your head and followed behind him.

Quietly he marched past the markets and crumbled houses. The reign of Stark was coming to an end. There was fire and destruction everywhere. Blood painted the streets. Unfamiliar banners flew through the air.

The city was burning.

You kept your head down as the man lead his horse through town toward the gate. How the horse did not become skittish or fazed by the carnage was an amazement.

"AAAAAHHHHH" a man's screamed out. Your head sought to find its owner. Feet from you an unfamiliar soldier of Stark's lay as you cross the gates out of the Royal court. His throat slashed, convulsing on his own blood as he choked it up.

You trembled at the sight of it all. More horses with strange banners flew past. Wringing your hands in your chest you said a silent prayer for safe passage.

The kingdom did not reside too far from the docks. Eventually the smell of the salty sea mixed with the smokey air. When the docks finally where in your line of sight you knocked the barrels.

As you approached you could see a soldier posted up at the entry way to the docking ships.

"Oye cargo for the Laufeyson" the meek man announced.

The soldier was covered in armor, but it was not embroider with the logos you had seen about your kingdom. He grunted then side-stepped letting him pass.

The owner of the cart walked straight to a bridge leading up to a massive ship. Lifting the lid Obadiah exited. He handed the man a satchel and sent him on his way.

When you looked back at the horizon it looked as if the sun had set upon the town. The fire was so bright you were sure nothing could survive it.

"Do not dawdle" he grumbled. You kept your head low and followed him up the gangway.

---

As you two boarded the ship a crewman appeared on the deck. He called to Obadiah and beckoned him to follow. Leading you both through the ship, he stopped short of a massive open door.

Obadiah walked through with you following close behind. The crewman did not enter the room only retreating from which he came.

To the north of the room a wall made of windows, but with the  moon already high, it offered barely any light. A thick melting candle added to the illumination. It flickered slightly from the air that seeped through the walls.

The candle planted on a table in the middle of the room and sat at it a man unknown to you. His garb was unlike any you've seen before. His pulchritudinous had you almost breathless.

---

"Prince Loki! I see the sea hath treated you well."  Obadiah's voice boomed. At the mention of his title your eyes widen and you bow sharply, praying that he would not find insult in your insolence.

"Ah yes the Lord doth bless us with a safe passage. And howbeit your journey through this perilous night?" He spoke. The foreign intonation sent an unfamiliar heat within you.

"It was a trip taken sooner then expected" his annoyance shown through every word as he marched to the table.

"We agreed to wait did we not? So why pray tell do I find myself blind sided by your recklessness? I barely escaped with clothes on my back" he spat out.

Obadiah snarkiness didn’t go unnoticed. Through your lashes you caught the slightest tick of the Prince's eye.

If Barron Obadiah had been a servant surely he would have been laid out on the floor. Beaten within an inch of his life for such insolence. But he was so unaware of himself due to Stark’s own lax policies.

"I do apologize my brother is quite unalienable when it comes to war. His spontaneity is one of which I can not control. Your life should suffice for now surely." He quipped, but there was something to his tone that sent your nerves awry.

You could feel Obadiah control his ire a sight you were accustom to when he talked to King Stark.

"Let us partake in some wine and toast to officially solidify our alliance" The prince suggested. Barron Obadiah took his place at the wooden table across him.

The Barron had a hand in treason. Would you be fated to treason too?

"Maid do you forget your duties?" The prince called out to you.

You had forgot yourself, but how could you not. This was not your Prince, from what you knew this was not your king's ship. But you were being made to serve a traitor and the invaders royalty.

Looking about the room, wooden cabinets were built into the east walls. In your unfamiliar surroundings you prayed as you rushed to them, hoping to find something.

Opening the higher doors first you find chalices set atop a shelf and a decanter. Grabbing two and the wine you bring them over to the table you place them in front of the men. Shakily you pour in both cups to their fill and set back against the wall.

"To small victories" they rose their goblets and drank.

----

When he gulped down the wine Obadiah winced and shot up to his feet. Dropping his goblet to the floor, clawing at his neck as if to rip out the contents.

You looked at him in horror. Then your eyes sought Prince Loki for guidance, but his reaction was not what you expected. A smile was adorned on his face so pleased and joyous of the sight.

Baron Obadiah dropped to the ground foaming, spasming, puking and turning colors. Loki continued drinking his wine unfazed.

"You bastard!" Obadiah choked out as bile spilled from him.

You stepped back when Barron Obadiah's arm reached out to your skirt. His fingers barely missing the hem of your dress. The sight horrified you as he convulsed. When his gasping stopped you knew he was for the worms now.

Would whatever had bewitched him would possessed you too?

"Right" The Prince leered at you as you pressed yourself into the wall. You were normally slow, but this was quick to put together. It was his doing.

This must’ve been some test of loyalty to the crown you thought to yourself. Now because you escaped with Obadiah you would be seen as a traitor too. Even if you tried to explain your innocence, you doubted highly that the Prince would believe a slave.

Looking at the now dead Obadiah then to Prince Loki, you knew what was next. Death. Clasping your hands you fell to your knees, squeezing your eyes closed tight. You spoke your last rights to which ever god that would hear it. You were no fool. Begging would be pointless you rather speak to the gods to grant you safe passage to the next world.

"I do say dear that prayers like that would have you condemn as a heretic" he admonished as tears streamed down your face.

---

You could not hear him. You continued to pray.

Let it be swift. Let it not hurt. Forgiveness please I beg of thee.

Hoping against hope that this would wash away all your sins as tears burst through your tightened lids.

"It is said that Stark despite his rumored infidelity never had a whisper of a bastard." He recalled as he took a sip from his cup. The mention of a bastard broke through your prayers. A sudden sense of nausea bubbled up within you.

"Then... At my brothers wedding to your princess, our then queen, your king's lips became loose as the wine flowed through the night." As he spoke you looked up at him through your clasped hands. Your prayers lowered to a meager whisper so that you could hear him.

You swallowed deeply. You knew exactly what he was getting at. Your hands drop to your side and you quieted yourself. His steely eyes staring into your soul. He knew what you were and what you did.

Were you being brought to the high church? Why would a Prince be labored with such a task? Was the church the cause for the anarchy tonight?

To be brought before the high church meant death, that one should never wish upon any enemy. You had seen the burnings before, the screams of the unholy, the sounds of which would visited you at night. The way the writhed in agony as the flames lapped their flesh.

Looking over to the Barron's lifeless body the thought of his death seemed more humane. So you turn on your knees and jump to the spilled chalice. Before you knew it the Prince was on you.

Pinning you to the floor, your head bounced off the floor sending you into a daze, his hands engulfed your wrist. Looming over you his silken hair tickled your face, the tendrils brushing at your tears. Despite his overpowering your body strained and clawed for the spilled cup.

"Find yourself honored girl. I do not make a habit to lowering myself."

"Please your highness... I'm merely a simple chambermaid" you try and reason, still fighting his hold.

-----

He got up still with your wrist in hand and dragged you to Obadiah's empty chair. The more you pulled back the harder the grip he held on you. Pushing you down on it, he enclosed you, his hands resting on its arms forming your prison.

"Your highness I implore you I know not what you mean?" Your voice quaked. Your vision doubled as the salty tears pooled on your eyes.

His stare was paralyzing as he lifted to straighten himself, you could not bring yourself to move. Racking his fingers through his dark main, watching as he walked around the table, taking his seat again across from you.

"How did you come about this trade" his tone was flat an ominous, he cradled his chin with one hand, stroking it with his slender fingers.

Your shoulders sagged forward and stomach knotted. This Prince was here to interrogate you on behalf of the church you knew it.

Then he would take you to them to be burned. An example to be made in front of The High Church.

"I asked you a question girl." His tone lacking patients.

----

"My mother..." As he held your sullen gaze you knew he wanted you to continue. "The women of town would come to her pregnant and leave...." You swallowed thickly "virginal."

It was not a flawless procedure often women have bleed out. But they would be good as dead if they were to arrived home pregnant unmarried in the eyes of The Church.

"And how did you find yourself as a dutiful servant to Stark?"

"Lord Rhodery knew of my mother by means of his sister. She was carrying the king's bastard." You said looking down to tug at the loose string of your dress.

"A month later my mother and I were sent by cover of night to the Royal castle.  From there on Stark had us stay under the guise as chambermaids."

"Who knew of this?"

"Very few just King Stark, Barron Obadiah and Lord Rhodery. They would bring the maidens to an east tower. People rarely ventured there. Our face was covered all throughout."

"So you know how to hold your tongue. A feature I admire.”

----

 "When we dock you will be taken to the servants quarters in your new Kings castle" Prince Loki spoke so softly, his calmness somehow setting you on edge.

You wrung your hands together in your lap, tapping your heel as he pulled something from his clothes. It was a bit of folded parchment with a wax seal. You could not read, but you always were fond of the squiggles that decorated paper.

"A portly woman will be there to greet you when you arrive. Give this to her." He out stretched his hand that held a parchment to you. Reaching for it, but Prince Loki pulled it away suddenly.

"Hide it away.” He ordered, you hesitated as you thought of where to stash it. You jumped when he rose again and stood in front of you once more.

“If anyone asks where you are from. Tell them you are from a province just out side my domain.” As Prince Loki spoke you stiffened and gasped.

The Prince's hand glided down your collar bone tracing down to the crack of your bosom. The folded paper clipping your chin as he moved. When he shoved it forcefully down bypassing your breast with the parchment you yelped. 

The paper edges poking at your softness made you fidget uncomfortably. Your eyes were larger than saucers as he caressed your breast when he pulled away.

"You will be a wall. A piece of furniture. An unassuming figure amongst the abysmal castle life. Listen for everything. Ears open at all times. The minorist of details commit them to memory as you never know when the slightest detail would come into play.”

You did not respond, still stunned and confused. If he wasn’t bringing you to the church you weren’t sure what he had planned for you.

Prince Loki called out to someone beyond you. The squeaks on the floor boards announced their entrance. Turning you find the man that guided you to this room. Bowing his head towards the prince.

"Take her and make sure she arrives to my brother’s safely."

XXX

Chapter 2>>

[wickedmage4106]

Stripping into Dangerous Situations Chp.2 AlphaDoffyxOmegaOC

Summary: Your secret job as a stripper, while your real job pays you barely nothing. Throw in a mix of secret side hustles, and the Devil soon takes interest in you. But be careful, as all things come with strings attached. Throwing a huge wrench in you life, and the Devil comes in to make an offer you want to refuse. But how delicous is the offer the Devil is making?Will you take the deal?

Story Plot, Eventual Smut as Story progresses (none at the moment to build up to), 18+ due to mention of drugs, violence, stripping, abuse, and posioning. Alpha/Omega verse in Modern One Piece tale, bit of a twist on my end. Animal ears and tail, no human ears.

Also on AO3 and Fanfiction.net, same name here for my accounts I post at.

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A month has passed since I saw Kitten or Joker as my boss called him, though I never cared for a client but for some reason I had a curious nature of knowing who he was. His money clip that I was allowed to keep, when I first got home after taking a hot shower in my shitty apartment. I couldn't help but fiddle with it in my hand. For some reason, I kept thinking of it as a Jolly Roger like some pirate symbol, but I also had a feeling I've seen this image before. I can't remember where, but my déjà vu sense was tingling. But like most things, I placed it back in my purse, and went to bed. I continued on with my life at my shitty job and at the strip club.

Currently, I was at the club going over several orders that was being delivered to us to stock up on more drinks, glasses, and entering all the expenses in the books. There was a massive fight in the club last night, and several things were broken. So, I called in emergency Sysco order, and had some cleaners come clean up the mess that was left from last night. Also, had to have a plumber come in as two of the men's toilet were stopped up meaning I was paying extra for the service since it was Saturday around lunch. Julie, who was the manager who would also handle this kind of stuff was out as her sons were in little league, and they played a game today. Which left me to deal with everything even from being here the night before. I made sure to tell Lawrence I needed a shower before I come back to deal with everything, but then again, I live across town. Would have to take a subway and then walk three blocks which didn't sound fun to do twice. So, the gym I go too had one close by, and took a shower there. With my spare cloths I brought; I wore a loose V-neck off the shoulder baby blue sweater that tucked into my jean short shorts, black thigh-high socks, and simple black flats. I had light makeup on to hide the circles under my eyes, with my hair held up by a clip with several strands falling loose and my glasses on.

It was freezing when you aren't dancing under the hot light in this place or how crowded it can get. Flipping through some papers, I sat at one of our VIP booths in that had full view of the whole club with two of the books in front of me with a calculator, cash draw out, papers of bills from the service people, and several other papers I had to calculate. Currently, I was on the phone with one of the electricians we hired with a mild headache coming on with how irritated I was with the man on the other line.

"He left wires and entire electrical panel out! That wasn't fixing it! I am not paying for a half shit job your new guy did, send someone back to fix this now!" I yelled at the bastard, slamming my phone down as I covered my hands over my face frustrated with the man. Over arrogant jack-ass! "Fuck!"

"Sounds like a frustrating call," I lifted my head and I saw Kitten standing there in a black pinstripe suit with his white shirt with a maroon tie with his large feathered coat hanging off his shoulders. Still had those weird sunglasses on, but at this moment I don't care.

I leaned back against the leather seat annoyed, "Why are you here? We're closed right now."

Behind him, another tall man older man in powder blue suit with another over the size fur coat on him in a weird spotted design, black sunglasses, black dog ears/tail with snot hanging from his nose became angry, "Nyeh Nyeh Nyeh, do you know whom you are talking too brat?!"

"I'm talking to Kitten and if you get snot on anything in this club, you're paying the cleaning bill," I dead tone replied with my face holding no expression.

"You!" He growled raising his cane, but the blonde held his hand up stopping his associate.

"It's fine Trebol, I enjoy her sassiness. Fu fu fu ~" Kitten spoke.

"Nyeh but Doffy!" Trebol whined.

"Doffy?" I was confused, is that his name?

"Don't you dare say his name! That is for family only!" Trebol howled even more.

"That is enough Trebol!" Doffy scolded. Whispering as Trebol was sent away grumbling. Turning back to me, his grin back on as he leaned closer holding his hand out. "Apologies my dear, as I have not introduced myself properly. Donquixote Doflamingo."

I stared at his hand with it being large like his frame with long fingers. Staring for about a minute, I reached up and shook his hand that was warmer than most. "Bunny Sinclair," I introduce myself.

"Bunny! That is an interesting name."

"So, is yours, now why are you here?" I asked going back to my paper work before me. "I'm busy."

"I am here to Lawrence, another surprise to see you here so early," he replied as he leaned against the booth as I could feel him looming over my shoulder trying to see what I was doing. "What are you doing? Shouldn't the manager of the be doing this?"

"Julie is with her kids little league seeing she usually does this, Lawrence is shit at the books, and in their absence, I tend to it as I often do when he fucks up. Lawrence is at brunch with his mother until one, so it will another hour depending on traffic when he will arrive," I answered as I wrote down several numbers into the book.

"Well, I have come so far," I suddenly felt the plush seat dip greatly, I looked to see him sit directly next to me. His arm over the back of the seat leaning over me with a tiger grin. I blushed for a moment at the intrusion as his scent of his cologne tickled my noise that had some tropical lingering scent. It was an interesting scent he was giving off as I enjoyed it but I pushed it passed me. He leaned in close as I moved away not liking the closeness. "Then, I shall wait for him here."

I groan as I placed my hand on his chest pushing him lightly back, "Yeah, well you can do it over there. Your looming doesn't help and I like my space."

His eyebrows shot up, ears down, and grin gone as if he has never been I guess rejected before, but I really don't like him this close. He creeps me out. Attractive but really creepy. Then in a moment he threw his head back laughing hysterically like a mad man then slammed his hand on the table making things shake and me jump in my seat.

He pointed at me as his grin wider than I ever saw someone grin, "I like you; I really do my dear. You can call me Doffy."

"Gee, Thanks," I was unsure how respond to that.

"Fu fu fu fu fu~" his chuckled deep from his throat as he still sat near me.

"Bunny!" Turning from my odd guest, Julie walked in with her boys. Julie was a feline Omega with a loving Alpha husband; she had shoulder length hair that was dyed bright red with black highlights as the black matches her black cat ears and tail. She was five foot eight, skinny as a twig even after three triplets she had a great athletic body. Soft tan skin, bright green eyes, and loves Gucci. She wears mostly Gucci and even has the logo tattooed on her right fake breast. Most of all the women here have implants except me, but her implants wasn't ridiculous like the others. She used to be an A cup but upgraded to an C. Personally it looks good on her. Her boys, Jason, Jones, and Jackson looked like their father being all blonde hair, blue eyes, and white/black feline cat ears and tail. I watched as two of the boys ran up to me, I smiled at them while the third Jackson, I noticed was with his mother and had a black eye.

"Oh, my gawd what happened to you!" I exclaimed, I reached up over the table softly grabbing his face looking at the poor boy.

"Foul ball got him good," Julie replied as the poor boy moved from my soft grasp hugging his mother, her hand rubbing his head.

I sat back down as I pointed to Jason and Jones, "Go to the bar and ask Venice at the bar to get your brother a bag of ice for his eye," I told his brothers as they ran off to the bar. I looked at Julie who watched then turned back to me.

"Sooooo, I knew you didn't get any sleep last night."

"Uh huh?" I stared skeptical at her. She has a grin on her face knowing she was up to something.

"You didn't sleep?" Doflamingo question as I help my finger up at him to hush. From the corner of my eye, I could see him be taken back by what I did and just chuckled.

"Who is this?" Julie questioned as her hands were behind her back as I could see something pink but couldn't make out the object.

"No one, what's behind your back?" I leaned to the side to try and see.

She giggled pulling from behind her back was a medium size pink dessert box that was from the famous bakery known as Charlotte's Pastry Shop! My mouth drop as I started to heavily drool; I love their sweets! Eyes all starry looking all I could focus on was that box. Julie snickered at my appearance as she knows how much of a sweet person I am and in love with these treats. Their expensive and they often have long lines just waiting to get in and purchase their delicious goodies.

"Gimmie gimmie gimmie gimmie!" I threw my arms out as I hungrily reached over the table for the box while Julie teased me keeping it out of my reach before finally, I snatched it out of her hands having her laugh at me.

I don't care! THEIR MINE! I will share my food but my sweets I will like Jewelry break anything if you take my sweet treats from me! I flip the lid up as I squealed in excitement as I bounced in my seat and tail wiggling like no tomorrow. Five strawberries in strawberry and white chocolate with chocolate drizzle, large pretzels dipped in white and raspberry chocolate with pink/white/red sprinkles. Three macaroons in each flavor of strawberry cream, raspberry mint, cookie and cream along with coffee expresso. Small three strawberry and white chocolate bars so tiny than a normal size candy bar. Two berry liquor cupcakes with white wine frosting with raspberry drizzle and white pearl sprinkles on top. And clear sugar cane pops with dried strawberries and mint lollipops in heart shapes. Scattered across the box was also tiny white marshmallows.

"Ahhhh!" I threw my head back squealing like a kid, I reached over hugging Julie who hugged back still laughing at my excitement completely forgetting the amused look on Donquixote's face. "Thank you! Thank you! I love you so much!"

"Ha ha ha, no problem Bun. You do so much for us and I had to get a special treat for you," Julie responded as I scooted back into my spot and dug into my box.

I picked one of the white chocolate strawberries, placing the plump fruit entirely in my mouth. Moaning as I chewed into the delicate sweet juice and mixture of the harden chocolate. My feet under the table on their toes doing a little dance I relish in the taste. "Damn straight," I mumbled with my mouth full with a chuckled as I chewed.

Julie grinned as her boys came back with a bag of ice, she took it as she gently held it to her sons face who placed his own hand on it to hold it in place. I swallowed the strawberry in my mouth as I took out a coffee macaroon as I nibbled to not rush into my large sweet box and try and make it last. Sensing something moving towards the box, I slammed my hand down hard on top of the table as his hand was snatched away quickly grinning but also heard from away by his subordinate exclaiming, "Nyeh Doffy!"

I was still growling low at him as he moved closer, looming over me as he let out a low purr that also mixed with a growl from the back of his throat. Looming at I stared up at him while I stared at his glasses unable to see his eyes. He spoke calmly though I could hear the threat in his calm, deep voice, "No one has survived hitting me, Little Omega."

"Then, don't touch my sweets," I hissed, Julie laughing at us.

"Careful sir, Bunny loves her sweets, but she loves Charlottes even more. She may be a bunny, but she fights like a feral cat," Julie joked.

"Really?" Amusement lacing his tone when he spoke. "Sounds exciting."

"You would think that," I grumbled as I put the rest of the macaroon in my mouth while closing the box and moving it on the other side of the table away from his hands.

"Anyway, I wanted to drop this off, and get him home so he can rest. Try to get some rest when you go home," Julie answered as she waved bye.

"I will, I get the night off as Lawrence is paying me for all this," I waved my hand over the able at this mess.

"Alright, well have fun." Julie left with the kids; I do hope that black eye clears up quick. Good kid.

"Have kids?" I looked up at him confused.

"Huh?"

He looked from where Julie had left through the exit in the front back towards me, "Do you have kids?"

"Oh, gawd no!" I gaped at him. "Hell, I would need a mate for that and I am not in the business of looking for one. I have too much bullshit going on to worry about having kids or relationships."

"Really? Big, tough Omega like yourself be sure to have some boyfriend –"

"Okay I am going to have to stop you," I looked at him frowning. "Why do even care about that shit?"

"I don't."

"Then, why ask?"

He shrugs, "Just curious is all."

"Well don't. I'm just a stripper and financial work at my other job, and I'm just doing my best to survive."

"Survive?" He inquired.

I paused in my work sighing deep. Moving some papers to the side I climbed up on the table, sitting in front of Donquixote. I could see him straighten as I gently placed my feet on top of his thighs with my legs open. I watched as his chest moved inhaling, then exhaling. Scooting forward as I was on the edge of the table; I gently moved my hands to his tailored collar of his black pinstripe suit lightly trailing my fingers under the collar. His arm that rested on the back of the booth moved as his hands slowly glided up from my ankles to grasp the back of my leg calves. My hands lay flat moving down his chest with my face looking relaxed as I moved my hands down.

"Your breathing is even as I can tell your used to women touching you," I calmly spoke in a low whisper just for us to hear.

"How can you tell?" Doffy inquired.

"You aren't phased when I got close to you, your breathing isn't shaking from my touch unlike some of the drunks that come here. Even the most powerful men shudder, but you don't even miss a single breath or twitch," I answered as I continued to move my hands. There was a rumbling as I figured a low purr from his chest. "I spent my time as a stripper since I was eighteen learning about men, what fantasy they want to escape wherever they come from, and their wants," moved my hands from his chest up to his neck to his tie. I began to slowly untie the fabric as he leaned forward just a little, "The reason I must survive by stripping in this shit joint is because Omegas are only used for breeding and making pups." I finally pulled the knot of the tie slowly down until the knot was gone. "I have to survive in this male domanial, alpha world because I am at the bottom of the food chain. Weak, little omega whose only job is to get fucked and watch the kids. Not to have a powerful job, just to do what they are told and I don't approve of that." Still grasping onto the tie with my other hand tracing the button of his silk white shirt, tracing in an S-motion down to his matching pinstripe vest. "So, here I am working as a stripper, dancing to make enough for my bills, and to give fake fantasies to drunk men. I've learned over the years how to make men give up their money even from the littlest of touches."

"And what if a woman's touch doesn't do anything to me?"

I snorted with a sly fox grin.

"Say that to the semi hard-on that is pressing against my left foot."

His ears perked up from their relaxed position as his relaxed expressing turned into a joker's grin.

"Clever observation my dear," he purred.

I still smiled as his dick didn't bother me, I've had plenty of dicks rub up against me all the time so this wasn't anything knew. Just part of the job. I was first creeped and hated it when first started but as time goes on, I just void it from my memory and just do what the men like. If I am able to make them hard, I have given them a great lap dance, and money in return. That's what I try to remember is the bills I have to pay, food I need to eat, shelter, cloths, student debt, and my grandmothers housing. I learned hard after my parent's death that money rules everything in this world. Money is power. I'm not a greedy person, I just want to live my life with a good job, not having to degrade myself some nights to make ends meet.

Then an idea popped in my head.

I grinned, "I bet I can get five reactions out of you with barely using my body against you."

A deep rumble from his throat vibrated with sounds as I now held both pieces of his tie by his throat, Doflamingo leaned forward with his joker grin teeth bared, "Is that a challenge?"

I pointed at him with my free left hand, "One."

His hands flew from my calves to grasping hard onto my hips, knowing I would have bruises on them by tomorrow. I winched from the sudden pain for a quick second, then grinned wider. His chest puffing up.

"Two."

Lifting my left foot, I roughly placed it on his dick dragging it from the base to the tip earning an inward hiss through his teeth.

"Three."

His grinned dropped realizing he has lost three, and only had two reactions remaining he immediately went to lean away from me. But I tightened grip on his tie, holding him in place. Reaching with my left hand, I brought it up to his left cat ear, gently tracing the back with my nail to earring as I know having pierced earrings make the skin very sensitive to the touch. He grunted clenching his jaws, I could see his shoulders shake.

"Four," I whispered closely to his lips as I stared at his colored lenses.

"Enough!"

I was slammed down hard onto the table with his hand gripping my throat tightly. Gripping his wrist as he leaned over me with a scowl on his face, but I couldn't help to chuckle even as my air intake was being cut off.

"Five," I choked with my nails digging into his clothed wrist.

"Seriously," I arched my back to lean my head back to see my boss Lawrence standing in front of the table looking unamused. "Why isn't every time I come here, you are causing some sort of trouble with our VIP client?"

"Just lucky I guess," I choked out a respond with a smile.

He inhaled pinching the bridge of his nose, "Sir Donquixote, please release Miss Sinclair from your grasp. I need her alive."

"Certainly," his hand released my throat as I coughed, thankful of the air I could breathe now. I sat up from the table while he sat back down.

"Bunny, you can go. Here is what I owe you for taking care of everything this morning," Lawrence handed me three hundred dollars from his wallet. Taking the cash, I grabbed my purse and desserts to hop off the table.

Clearing my throat though still sore, "Everything has been placed within the folders, and calculated into the books. The electrician is sending back another person as the first guy fucked up. Most of the deliveries have all come, and the cleaning crew just left. Club should be ready for tonight."

"Great, now go before I get upset," Lawrence still seemed upset so I shrugged.

"Pleasure talking with you my dear," I turned to see Donquixote with a grin back onto his face.

"Bet it was, bye," I snorted with a wave, then headed out.

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Doffy's eyes from behind his lenses watched as Bunny left the club. Eyes half closed being fixated on her swaying hips made him lick his lips. He could see the talent that she had in her, his hard on was proof of that. Usually, he had great control over his body, but she had quickly him in the palm her hand. He admired that and her bold personality. Made things more interesting.

Lawrence shook his head at his employee, then placing his hands together similar to praying turning his attention back to his guest, "I am truly sorry about her Joker, if she offended you in anyway. I will personally-"

"Shut the fuck up Lawrence," Doffy interrupted disgruntledly while he stood up from the booth as Lawrence snapped shut in fear. "Your voice is really irritating to listen too."

Lawrence slumped into himself where he stood with his eyes grazed down in fear as he knew he was in trouble.

Donquixote Doflamingo was an extremely powerful Alpha, and someone you do not want to cross. A ruthless businessman who is worth billions, one of the leading drug lords across the different Grand Line, and in the New World Pacific's. Trading of illegal goods within the black-market as one of its Brokers, Joker was by far the most dangerous man you could ever meet in the Underworld. Committing crimes from the public from murder, drugs, slaves, and supplying weapons to countries that have on going wars to the enemies. This man was a Monster. And he knew it too. Lawrence was absolutely terrified on this man, as he tried to make the man's visit as pleasant as possible but with Bunny. He was starting to get worried she may have crossed a line. Lawrence knows this man will kill to get whatever he wants and shows no remorse for his actions. The public doesn't know of Donquixote's crimes as they been secretly kept out from light but when dealing with the man directly, you quickly figure out you just made the wrong deal with the Devil.

Raising his hand, Doffy snapped his fingers and everyone who was near heard it began to leave the main room. Others who didn't were ushered outside. Doffy adjusted his sleeves while Trebol walked back up standing behind the club manager making Lawrence start to sweat as the air was becoming increasingly tense.

"Lawrence," the racoon man gulped. "I heard from a little bird that you threw away or rather flushed away thirteen thousand dollars' worth of SMILE, down the fucking toilet," Doflamingo lips curled up with a snarl leaving his throat at the end.

"Well – I – I mean-" WHACK! "Ahhh!"

Trebol swiftly swung his cane as he struck Lawrence in the back, making the stubby man fall to his hands and knees. Several more swings of the cane had Lawrence on the ground crying out in pain, with his hands and head bleeding. After about a minute and a half, Doflamingo held his hand up making Trebol stop.

Pulling up his pants sleeves while crouching down before the badly beaten man, Lawrence looked up at Joker who had several veins on his forehead with a deep frown on his face. "The cops showed last night due to the brawl," Lawrence coughed out blood as he weakly spoke. "They had a dog that was going crazy, and they started looking for drugs. I had to get rid of it. I'm sorry Joker."

"Does she know?" Lawrence was confused until it clicked.

Lawrence shook his head, "All -cough cough cough- employees had to leave the club. Only those who knew of the drug being sold here flushed it."

Doffy hummed staring down at the pathetic shit before him, quivering in fear and pain. A grin appeared as it thrilled him to see this, Doflamingo loved being powerful and feared. Makes things much more fun when you can get away with it and no one would dare go against him.

"Well, Lawrence you are in luck," Lawrence looked up confused as Doffy stood up straight with his hands in his pockets. "Your sweet little bunny employee put me in a good mood, so I will give you one," Doffy held up one finger. "One chance to fix your fuck up. Get me the money you lost by Monday morning, and I will forget all about this incident. Don't, well you don't want to know what will happen if I don't get the money."

Lawrence gulped nodding his head as he knew if he didn't get the money, he'd end up dead.

"Good, Trebol lets go. We're done here," Doflamingo spoke as he began to walk towards the entrance.

"Nyeh, yes Young Master heh heh heh heh," Trebol laughing at the man he just beat following Doffy out.

Outside of the club was a black limo waiting outside was Doffy noticed his family member Lao G, another Alpha of his unique family with grey wolf ears and tail while wearing a simple black suit. Opening the door for the Young Master and Trebol before heading to the driver's side.

"How was your meetin-G Youn-G Master?" Lao asked while driving off from the club.

"It went well as it could be, make sure to pick up the money Monday morning. If he doesn't have it, kill his mother. Hopefully then he will learn not to throw away my product, stupid man," Doffy grunted in displeasure as it irritated him that the bastard had the nerve to flush all his drugs down the shitter.

"Nyeh Doffy, what about the girl? She disrespected you!" Trebol complained.

"What G-irl?" Lao questioned looking at the Young Master through the review mirror.

Lao g watched as Doffy smiled, "Leave her be Trebol."

"Nyeh! But Doffy!"

Doffy snapped his head to his subordinate who submitted from the glared from under his bosses' glasses.

"Leave her be, besides I find her interesting," chuckling Doffy looked back out of the window of his heavily tinted limo. "I might have something planned for her. So, no one is to touch her, understood?"

"Yes sir," Trebol and Lao G responded.

Lips curling up into a grin, Doffy then looked down at his still loosen tie that hung from his neck. Picking up the silken fabric, he brought it to his nose inhaling. Eyes closing as the scent of strawberries, vanilla, and sugar filled his nose. Pulling the tie away as he stared at the fabric, his grin grew.

'Bunny Sinclair," Doffy thought amused. 'I can't wait to see what you will do next my dear.'

A dark chuckle formed at the back of his throat as he anticipated their next encounter.

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[drarryruinedme7]

kinktober, day 14. gang bang

With a hint of voyeurism 😋 thanks to my ever present now beauties @chuckalart and @crimsonhead-ache 🥰as for this.. I have no regrets. I loved writing it. 1.4k of Harry, Draco, Blaise, Theo and Neville having some fun. 

Oh, honestly. 

Harry hated all of his friends. Ron had ditched the ‘guys night’ that Sunday to stay with Hermione, while Seamus and Dean had more important things to do (sex, of course). Only Neville had stayed with Harry, but only so he could spend some time with Theodore Nott.

That left Harry drinking beer in a corner with Zabini and Malfoy. Nott and Neville were with them physically, yet they kept throwing each other such dirty glances Harry wasn’t sure mentally they were somewhere else entirely.

“So… what do we do tonight?” Zabini asked, fidgeting with his wand.

Harry impatiently huffed. “I still don’t understand why Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs never join us.” 

“Because Potter—” Malfoy’s words were sloshed. Merlin, the git always got tipsy so quickly. “—they’re boring people who only want to study and do boring things. Because they’re boring.”

“What are they, again?” Harry asked, hearing Neville snort from where he was sitting right now— Nott’s lap, to be precise.

“Boring,” Malfoy repeated, chin raised. “Are you deaf, Potter?” 

Harry shook his head, amused. He surprisingly found himself not that unhappy to spend time with the Slytherins once he got to know them. 

“I have an idea,” Zabini said with a smirk. Harry panicked— he had learned to fear anything he said when he had that look about him.

“We should play truth or dare.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Oh, because that isn’t boring.”

“Well,” Malfoy said slowly. “We could spice it up a bit.”

“Spice it up?” Nott asked as his hands tightened possessively on Neville’s thighs. Honestly. 

Malfoy pointed a finger to his temple as he pursed his lips. It was so theatrical that Harry couldn’t resist chuckling. That made Malfoy turn to narrow his eyes at him and declare, “Yes. We can only ask sexual questions and dare sexual acts.” 

“Mate gotta tell you, it looks a bit dangerous to do with only five men playing.” Neville’s voice was amused, and Harry registered vaguely that that’s not really how he recalled his friend acting before. He remembered him shy, coy… what was happening?

“That’s why it’s fun!” Zabini exclaimed, conjuring a bottle and placing it in the middle of their weird, ill-assembled group. 

“Alright, then we’re all in?” Nott asked, staring intently at Harry, when they all turned to glance his way, awaiting his response. 

Great. 

Harry wished for a moment they’d be back in fourth year when his greatest worry was how to face a dragon.

“Fine,” he nodded. Maybe it was time to start experiencing that famous ‘youth’ they all talked about for once.

“Wait!” Malfoy closed his eyes and held out a hand where a vial smacked flying out his room. “Veritaserum.” He winked and poured a drop of it in everyone’s glasses.

“I don’t even wanna know how you have that, Malfoy,” Harry exhaled. 

The game started pretty expectedly. They’d asked who had ever given a blow job, or the weirdest place they’ve ever done it, and their favourite position… until Nott’s bottle pointed directly to Harry. 

Nott grinned wolfishly. “What’s a fantasy you would never admit to out loud?”

What a bastard. Harry shook his head, but alcohol and veritaserum mixed found him in an inexorable trap. “Me naked and blindfolded, with a group of blokes feeding me their cocks.”

The second he gritted out the words; he felt like all the air in the room had been sucked out. Everyone was looking at him with wide eyes and mouths open in shock. 

Harry was thinking of a quick way to Obliviate them all and flee the state when Malfoy recovered. “That’s—” he whispered, voice rough. He cleared his throat. “—interesting.” 

Harry whipped his head to him, ready to tell him to fuck off, but when he saw the expression on Malfoy’s face, the words died on his lips. His expression was full of lust and bared want, and it made Harry’s cock jump.

“It certainly is,” Nott agreed. 

“Say, Potter,” Malfoy continued, looking like a predator ready to attack. It made Harry’s blood quickly rush to his cock, hardening it in one go. “How’d you like four blokes feeding you their cocks and never telling a living soul?” 

“Make it three,” Zabini hastened to correct. “I prefer to observe.”

“Kinky,” Neville said, blushing immediately. Nott laughed. “I’d say everything right now has taken a very kinky turn.” 

They were all looking at Harry. Harry inhaled deeply, mind already supplying him all kinds of images involving cocks, mouths, and his deepest desire finally satisfied, which made him think with his cock rather than his brain.

Neville whispered a “Harry, please, remember you’re not, in any way, compelled to say yes—” when Harry held out a hand. His eyes watered: he’d thought he would never get to see his fantasy realised, and, weird as it seemed, he trusted them. 

“Yes,” he murmured. “Please, please, yes.”

Zabini was the one to conjure a blindfold and tie it behind Harry’s head, purring, “okay?” into his ear. Harry nodded and shuddered when Malfoy’s voice vanished Harry’s clothes. 

“Merlin, Harry.” Neville licked along Harry’s jaw, wrenching a moan out of him. “Who would have thought… this would be so hot.” 

He kept mouthing at Harry’s neck when Nott’s voice reached him too. “Erm, Harry, look, if it gets too much… just… tap your hand on one of our thighs, alright?” 

Harry nodded. Malfoy’s voice came stern this time. “Use your words, Potter.” 

“Wow,” Zabini chuckled from somewhere next to Harry. “Draco honestly gets to you, huh?”

Damn, Harry knew he must have been blushing all over his face and chest at the command in Malfoy’s voice. He felt his cock stiffen even more, if possible, and was sure the others must have seen the drops of pre-come that leaked from his cock at the words.

“Yes,” Harry said. 

“Open your mouth.” 

Fuck. Zabini was right. Malfoy was genuinely getting to him— Harry was suddenly feeling lightheaded, crazy with want anticipation. 

He opened his mouth and immediately groaned when what must have been Malfoy’s cock pushed past his lips, thrusting until it hit the back of Harry’s throat. 

Harry stubbornly ignored his gag reflex and worked his throat around what he was now sure was Malfoy’s cock, judging by the timbre of the groans that filled the room. 

“Fuck, Potter, can’t wait to see that pretty face of yours smeared with all our come,” he stuttered as he grabbed Harry’s hair and started fucking his mouth. 

Harry whimpered, clenching a hand around the base of his cock. A hand grabbed his wrist. “No touching,” Neville whispered into Harry’s hair. “Squeeze my hand instead, if that’s okay for you.”

Harry squeezed Nev’s hand, only to find his wrists tied behind his back in a matter of seconds. “You’ve got some wicked imagination, Potter, I would have never guessed,” Zabini murmured on his nape. “I hope you won’t mind me wanking off to this sight.”

Nott chuckled, whispering something to Malfoy. Malfoy’s voice came right into Harry’s ear then. “Try tugging on the ties around your wrists. They should come off easily.” Harry tried. They did come off easily; he nodded. From that point on, he couldn’t concentrate on their words anymore. He was lost in the feeling of the cock thrusting in his mouth, of his wrists tied, of the kisses and bites someone was leaving on his collarbones, neck, shoulders. 

A second later, someone else’s cock —probably Nott’s— breached past Harry’s lips, and soon enough, he was gone entirely. He could barely sense when and whose cock was in his mouth anymore, could only feel pleasure grow in every part of his body, burning hot as fire in his groin as his balls kept tightening more and more.

A loud cry startled Harry from his stupor— someone… Zabini came with a string of nonsensical words and, “fuck,” he said, “the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, fuck.”

Not a second later, another boy was coming down Harry’s throat as someone else shot their load all over his face. Harry swallowed greedily, feeling dizzy. He was so aroused he couldn’t stop trembling, swaying his hips, fucking into the air. 

A hand circled his waist, followed by a reassuring voice, lips brushing against Harry’s. “Calm down, Harry.” It was Malfoy’s voice, so soothing Harry could immediately feel relief. “It’s okay; you’re okay. You did so well, you know? So good.” His praises made Harry sob, and a tear rolled down his cheek. 

Soon enough, he found himself quietly sobbing in Malfoy’s arms as he swept a soothing hand on his back. He untied Harry’s hands and slowly brought them on Harry’s chest, covering them with his own hands. “Yes, Harry, yes, just like this. You know you made us crazy, never have I been so aroused in my life. You’re amazing.” He kept murmuring reassurances in Harry’s ear until Harry’s breathing came out evenly. 

“I—” Harry tried to speak but had to stop with a sudden fit of cough. “I need to come, please,” he said weakly. 

Someone freed Harry of the blindfold, then, and Harry pulled back from Malfoy’s embrace to see Neville smiling gently at him. 

“Tell us how, and we’ll satisfy you.”

Harry smiled. “You already have, more than I could have ever imagined possible.” 

[jimlingss]

Sugar and Coffee [16]

Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17

➜ Words: 3k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

On Wednesday, you begin to bake, cut, and fill.   The ingredients are pulled from the borrowed kitchen — eggs, butter, buttermilk, vegetable oil, sugar, flour, baking powder, unsweetened cocoa powder, and vanilla. The oven is preheated to three hundred degrees fahrenheit and the round pans are greased. The four of you measure and mix together the dry ingredients, and then the wet ingredients.    Once it’s all ready, it’s baked while the ganache filling is worked on. Heavy cream, butter, chocolate, and a pinch of kosher salt are melted together with two tablespoons of brewed coffee to deepen the flavour. It cools and thickens, a fluffy texture that melts against your palate.    And when the moist cake is out of the oven, it cools too before being cut and filled.   “Alright, folks.” Namjoon dusts his hands off, shutting the fridge door. “Now on Friday, we just cover, dowel, and stack. Since the wedding is on Saturday, we want it to sleep overnight.”   “We’re going to have to prepare decorations tomorrow,” Sejeong says. If there was anyone’s cake that she wanted to perfect, it was her own sister’s. “Crumb coat the cakes and smooth the frosting, colour the fondants, make the flowers. Just so we can get it prepared in time and not be rushing on the last day.”    “Okay.” You offer a smile. “Are we still going with lavender?”   “That’s the plan. But we can worry about that tomorrow. How have you two been? Any problems?”   You glance at Jungkook, meeting his eye, but you divert hastily. “N-No, we’re fine. We’ve been enjoying ourselves. Thank you for bringing us along.”   “That’s not a problem.” Namjoon laughs heartily, practically glowing with a healthy tan. “We’re happy to have two more sets of hands. God knows the wedding is hectic and stressful enough, right, honey?”   “Chungha is having it tougher.” His wife sighs. “We’re just glad to get this done and over with.”   In between family feuds and relatives duking it out, you don’t need to tell them that you and Jungkook are incidentally sharing the same room over a mistake in booking. They have enough on their plates as it is.   But just because you don’t talk about your issues doesn’t mean that they’ve magically vanished.   Even if you wish that were the case.   “Morni—”   The moment you open your sleepy eyes, Jeon Jungkook has manifested in the mirror. You choke on your toothpaste, toothbrush sucked into your throat like a vacuum, lodged in. You choke it out and sputter.    Jungkook’s shocked awake, eyes widened as he pats your back.   You cough and rinse your mouth. “Oh my god. You scared me to death!”   “All I said was good morning!” He shoots you a look, leaning in too close with his still sleepy demeanour, fluffed hair and swollen face. “Are you alright?”   “Obviously not! I almost died!”   You’re not okay. Very far from any semblance of ‘okay’.   For one, you can’t look the bastard in the eye. You can’t stop yourself from perspiring. It’s as if your best friend is someone worthy to be fearful of…   No. It’s not that you’ve become afraid of Jungkook. You’re nervous.   “I’m going to shower.”   “Sounds good.”   It shouldn’t be surprising. He even warned you. But the moment Jungkook starts to strip off his shirt, you’re caught off guard at how he didn’t wait for you to leave ⁠— how comfortable he is with you. You have half a mind left to sprint out of the bathroom. Nearly falling over. Barely catching your stumble.    Jungkook watches with his brows raised incredulously.   The bathroom door eventually shuts and you change as quick as you can, and run out of the room without a word. Like you’re being chased by loan sharks.   “Hey, Y/N.” After ten minutes, Jungkook comes out topless, having forgotten to grab a shirt. But he pays no mind, toweling off his head. “We should get room servi—…...Y/N?”   The doe-eyed boy looks around, realizing that you’re gone.   You’ve headed across the resort to the restaurant for breakfast. Finally, you’re able to have a meal in peace without having to lift your head to see a big nose and brown, doe eyes.    You grab a healthy serving of eggs, toast and cereal. And you pick a good table to look out and enjoy the view.   But fifteen minutes into your meal, someone suddenly plops down across from you.   You’re startled to death again.   “I can’t believe you ditched me.”   “S-Sorry…” You look away. “I was too hungry to wait.”   “Could’ve told me at least. I would’ve hurried up.” He spreads cream cheese on his bagel, ruffled mop of hair flopping as he moves. He’s dressed like a true tourist again, this time with a hawaiian shirt that’s bright orange with blue florals all over it.   Jungkook’s eyes are round and buggy as he bites down and he hums in satisfaction at the taste. “So what are our plans for today? It’s the only full day we have left before we have to work on the cake.”   “I don’t know.” You stand up. “I finished. Should go back to the room. I have a stomach ache.”   “Really?” His left cheek is puffed out with food stored inside. “But I just got here.”   “Nature calls.” You run off, leaving your best friend in the dust.   It’s horrible being stuck on an island with Jeon Jungkook.    No matter where you run or how you hide, he’s always there.   “How was the—”   You scream.   “—bathroom trip.” Jungkook looks at you, brows furrowed deep.   “You scared me!” You put your hand over your heart where it’s pounding hard, threatening to jump out of your chest.   “But I didn’t do anything,” he defends, mouth drawing open as he gestures around, perplexed at how you could be frightened in broad daylight, in the middle of the day, with this many people around. “Are you sure you’re okay?”   “I’m fine. H-how’d you even find me?!”   “I don’t know, I was just heading back to the room. The resort isn’t that big.” He shrugs and finally is able to get a good look at you. Jungkook slowly smiles at your one-piece swimsuit. “Are you going in for a dip? I can join.”   The thought of Jungkook ripping off his shirt, jumping into the pool and getting all wet with you has your knees weak. It’s not a healthy idea.    “No. Changed my mind. It’s kind of….cold out for a swim. I’m probably going to go back inside to change.”   “Y/N. It’s hot. It’s like a hundred degrees out here.”   You muster stiff laughter. “Well I’m feeling a bit chilly. Gonna go back and change. See ya!”   You sprint off again, in a completely disoriented manner. Jungkook shouts your name when you nearly slip on a puddle of water by the poolside and almost crack your head open. But luckily, you catch yourself and throw him a half-hearted smile and an exaggerated wave goodbye.    Part of you wishes you would’ve just fallen into the pool or hit your head. Maybe it would finally knock some sense into your brain.   There’s no reason for you to be so nervous around him. This is Jeon Jungkook you’re talking about — IU fanboy, the biggest nerd of the universe, officially the worst flirt on this planet.   There’s absolutely no reason for your stomach to flip. For you to be unable to retain eye contact with your friend. For you to suddenly be so self-aware and conscious of him that you feel nervous when he’s around and nervous when he’s not. There’s no reason whatsoever…   “You need to get your head straight.”   You’re muttering to yourself as you walk. You probably look crazy, but need to hear it out loud. If no one’s going to help you by saying it, then you’ll say it yourself. “Focus, Y/N. Focus—”   A blood-curdling shriek tears from your stomach when there’s suddenly knocking. You turn to see Jeon Jungkook beside you, separated by a window, but laughing hysterically at your reaction. His nose is scrunched, mouth drawn up into that boyish smile of his.   He’s inside the fitness center in a white tank top, sweating enough to make his hair damp, and the dark stands are pushed back against his head. That little shit is scaring you on purpose now.   “Are you shitting me, Jeon Jungkook?!” Your fist pounds against the glass and you fail to notice how everyone else in the gym is whirling their heads around at the noise.   The resort attendant runs up on you.   “Ma’am, please don’t bang on the glass.”   “S-sorry.”   Jungkook is in bigger hysterics now, bent over and grabbing his stomach, laughing loud enough for you to hear through the window. His smile is excited, eyes lit up.   Everywhere. Every corner you turn to. Every path you take. Some way or another — whether you’re talking to Namjoon or Chungha, hanging at the bar, around the pool, on the beach to watch the waves — no matter how hard you try to evade him, Jungkook is always there.   You didn’t know it would be so hard to avoid him. He’s truly like the plague.   Or maybe a curse.    Better yet, it would be more fitting to call Jeon Jungkook the year-round Christmas grinch. He’s here to ruin your life, ruin your holiday, and make your head filled with him and only him.   “You’re not avoiding me, are you?”   He finally asks after crawling into bed beside you that night. His hands are folded on top of his midsection and he’s staring up at the ceiling even if he can’t see when the entire room is drowned in a comfortable darkness.   You muster some laughter. “Don’t be ridiculous.”   The sheets shift and from the little light coming through the terrace glass doors, you can see him looking at you. And you can feel his body warmth with the small distance. “I would hate it if you were a hypocrite since you don’t like when others ghost you.”   “I said I’m not,” you whine. The lie gives a tickle of guilt in your gut. “You shouldn’t accuse people after they’ve already defended themselves.”   “Okay.” The corners of his lips quirk. “Just making sure. I don’t want to scare you off.”   You scoff, eyes adjusting enough to be able to look at him. It’s quiet, with him beside you underneath the covers, too close but too far. Yet somehow, in spite of the silence of your room, it’s still very noisy inside your head. “You really think you’re going to get rid of me that easily?”   “No. And I’m glad for that. I wouldn’t want to lose you.” Jungkook grins and he teases, “You’re not a coward, Y/N. Right?”   “Psh. Go to bed, Jeon.”   “Hmm, I’m not tired, but I do know an activity we can do together that’ll tire me right out.”   “Yeah, my fist meeting your face.”   He laughs and you roll over, tugging the covers up to your chin.   You don’t say out loud, don’t admit it, but you are a coward.    One big coward who pretends to face the truth with courage, but actually learnt to run and hide in the face of trouble. A coward who can’t face the music, who’s actually wide awake like he is, but won’t say it. Whose heart is stuttering too loud to try to slip underneath the seduction of slumber.    You won’t admit the funny feeling you get when your gaze sets upon Jungkook. You won’t acknowledge it even when it’s screaming into your ear drums and drumming against your rib cage. You won’t confess that the nervousness you feel is far from platonic.   It’s hard not to feel stuck on Jungkook. These days, the last person you see before you sleep is him and he’s the first person you see when you wake up. He’s both the beginning and the end.   “Hey, Y/N.” You’re stirred away by a soft voice calling to you. “Wake up.”   When your lids peel back, you see him. The strands of his black hair nearly tickle the skin of your cheeks and he smiles tenderly at you. “We have a long day. Come on.”   You’re a coward and you have been for some time now.   //   Friday is the busiest day of the week. It’s the eve of the wedding and where you’re in the kitchen for hours on end.   Between the four of you, the lilac-coloured fondant is rolled out to cover the chocolate cake and ganache frosting. The dowel rods are inserted and the cake is stacked. Once it’s to Sejeong’s satisfaction, the decorating process begins. The sugar lavender that you made yesterday is used, placed delicately in the correct positions and you work on tracing a lace pattern on the bottom most layer.   Hours later, with muscles sore and eyes stinging, she’s finally satisfied.   It ends up looking magnificent. All the effort is presented in front of you — the cake is a soft purple colour, lavender flowers made from gum paste and real lilacs edible.   “It’s too pretty to eat.”   “It always is.” Sejeong smiles. “But when we do, it’ll be delicious.”   Namjoon stretches his arms over his head, making noises as his bones crack. “I’m starving. What time is it?” He checks his watch. “I think the snack bar is still open. We should go eat now since we have to wake up bright and early tomorrow.”   “I forgot how much work it was to be a bridesmaid.” Sejeong sighs lightly. “Let’s just get the cake in the fridge for now.”   Jungkook and Namjoon carefully move the cake into the refrigerator area, a whole cold storage, and you take your aprons off, washing your hands. Sejeong turns to you and Jungkook. “Are you guys hungry too? You probably are since we’ve been working so late.”   You exchange a look with him. “N-No. We’re fine.”   “Are you sure?” Namjoon asks, brows raised.   “Yeah, I’m sure. I’m more tired than hungry. I’ll probably call it a night.”   “Same here.” Jungkook offers a smile, following your lead.   “Well alright, I’ll see you both bright and early then! Good job, you two.” Namjoon smiles and both he and his wife leave the kitchen, talking to one another until their voices fade away.   Jungkook then turns to you with his brow raised. “Are you really not hungry?”   You look down at your stomach and it rumbles. You wonder if he can hear it too. “I thought I’d give them alone time since we’ve been busy all day….”   An extended sigh pulls from the man’s lungs.   Jungkook smiles and as he passes by you, he ruffles your hair. “You’re so unnecessarily thoughtful sometimes….”   You turn around, trailing after him. Jungkook opens the fridge and hums, eyes searching.    “What are you doing?” you ask curiously.   “Looking for ingredients since a little someone said they weren’t hungry and now we can’t go to the only place still open.” He grins easily. “So unless you want to go back to the hotel room and wait half an hour for room service, I’ll cook.”   Jungkook sounds so self-assured that you comply, finding your place on a stool as he begins to pull out mushrooms, shallots, parmesan cheese, butter, and starts digging around the cupboards. “You can cook?”   “’Course I can. I’m a master of the kitchen.” His eyes flicker up and the little shit mocks you. “Why? Can’t you?”   “The pan always burns,” you mutter.   “Is that why you can’t melt chocolate over the stove?” he questions with a glint of mischief.   “For the record, I’m getting better. It’s not like I do it intentionally anyway. But are we even allowed to use these ingredients, Jungkook? Won’t we get into trouble?” It’s not your kitchen after all — just a small space the resort was willing to let you use.   He merely shrugs. “We have to live a little.”   You sit on the other side of the island, watching him closely.    Jungkook finds a can of chicken stock and heats it over the stove in a small saucepan. Then he moves to chop shallots and mushrooms, sleeves pulled up to his elbows, forearms revealed as he works the knife in a constant motion that’s therapeutic to listen to. Jungkook fries the shallots and mushrooms over the hot oil and butter in a skillet, tossing and flipping them as they sizzle.   He works fluidly, in a rhythm without needing to stop and think twice. It’s fun to watch.   “What are you making?”   “Mushroom risotto.”   “Sounds fancy.”   “It is,” he lies.    In your ignorance, you’re unaware that it’s actually an easy recipe. You’re also oblivious to the fact that Jungkook is secretly beaming with gratitude that his dad taught him this recipe years ago. His dad was right that he needed to learn how to cook basic dishes to one day impress.   Jungkook adds the rice, coating it in the butter before adding a cup of white wine he found in the cupboards. Once it’s fully absorbed, he puts in the chicken stock and adds salt to taste. All the while, he’s watching you from the corner of his eye. He can read you like a book and your amazed expression feeds directly into his ego.   When Jungkook turns around to throw something in the sink, he lets his enormous smile slip.   “If we ever have the time, I’ll make you shrimp or chicken risotto.”   “You can make that?”   “Of course, cooking isn’t hard.”   “Pft. You really know how to do everything, don’t you, Jeon?”   “You said it, not me.”   He serves it on a big plate, even taking the extra step to clean the edges up with a napkin. You’re amazed and when he arrogantly urges you to take a bite, you can’t even tell him off. It’s delicious.   And once you say so, he can't deny how happy he is.   Jungkook is over the fucking moon. He would cook for you for the rest of his life if you’d let him.

[leon-scott-kennedy]

So Covert, I Hardly Knew Him

Part I | Part II | Part IV

Part III: Growth

Locked in a laboratory bunker a few hundred feet below ground was not an ideal location for Leon to run into Ada, but he should have expected it. She tended to appear at the worst possible time and throw a wrench into his plans. Sometimes a bomb. “What are you doing here?”

Ada lowered her gun and inspected her fingernails as if checking for any chips in the bright red polish. “What? I can’t drop in to see an old friend?”

The thick honey of her voice sent a shiver down Leon’s spine. He tightened his grip. “A stop on your whirlwind Siberian vacation?”

Ada’s smile turned toxic. “Something like that,” she said, her elbow cocked on her hip and gun held limply in midair. As if Leon were no threat to her. She was probably right. But the low groan of the undead should have worried her.

“So, a job then.” Typical. “How the hell did you even get in here?”

“Back door.”

Leon groaned. Of course, there was an easier way in. He lowered his gun, checked his clip, and reloaded while he had a few seconds of respite. He strained to hear anything in the dark, attention never leaving the dangerous woman in front of him, but the low of zombies were still distant, for now. 

Ada took a step forward. Glass crunched. Leon raised the Samurai Edge. She stopped; the corner of her lip quirked at his immediate reaction.

“That’s not yours,” Ada said. She eyed the gun curiously.

“Bit of a mix-up.”

“Hmmm...” Though Ada clearly didn’t believe him if her perfectly manicured raised eyebrow was anything to go by. “I need your help.”

“Doubtful. Try again.”

Ada smiled. “It’s a new strain,” she said, far too relaxed for a person held at gunpoint. “A modification of-”

“- the T-Veronica,” Leon finished. “I know. I did my homework.”

“So you know the virus can lay dormant for years before activation,” Ada said with a casual wave of the hand holding her gun. “And there’s no cure. Yet.”

Leon tensed because no, he hadn’t known that. That was new. That was dangerous. That meant - “anyone could be a carrier,” he said slowly. Then, the implications hit him full force. “They’d never know.”

“Give the boy a prize,” Ada added. 

Leon wanted to wipe that smug smirk off her face. People’s lives were at stake. He knew there was a leak in the White House. That’s why his mission was unofficial - off the record. The only person who knew he was here was Hunnigan and the privately contracted pilot that had dropped him in the Siberian wilderness. He needed proof of American involvement in the bioterrorism weapons being created before he went directly to the President. But this was worse; a sleeper virus. This was deeper than he’d initially thought; premeditated. Years of planning. 

“I need to get a sample to Dr. Chambers,” Leon said. He had never met her, but he knew of her work. 

Dr. Rebecca Chambers was one of the survivors of the Arklay Mountains incident, the one that kicked off everything. And if Chris Redfield trusted her, that was good enough for Leon. She’d dedicated her life to the fight against bioterrorism like them, except she wasn’t throwing herself in front of rampaging BOWs. A choice that had proved hazardous to Leon’s health. 

“See? An alliance would be mutually beneficial.”

Leon snorted. “I wouldn’t say that.”

Ada stepped closer, a seductive smile on her lips. Her heels echoed ominously off the concrete walls. Her hand curled behind Leon’s neck, fingertips teasing the short hairs, and pulled him down to her level. “Not even for old times’ sake?” 

Her breath was hot against Leon’s cheek, her lips a soft glossy pink. She made contact with cool skin, but it wasn’t with his lips. 

A split second before she connected, Leon slipped his finger between their mouths and forced her to kiss his grimy index finger. He smirked. “Ah ah ah,” he tutted. “You didn’t ask.”

Ada’s eyes narrowed as he pulled away, and her hand slipped uselessly from its inviting position. Her intended prey had escaped.

“I’m not that same naive rookie looking for approval. I’m a big boy now. You wanna play? I have my own rules.”

 Ada scoffed. “Well, look who grew a pair.”

Leon turned his back on her and raised the Samurai Edge. Not the most brilliant idea, but he knew she wouldn’t shoot him in the back as long as she still needed him. “We need to get into the generator room. On me.”

“Really?” Ada reloaded her Blacktail and fell into step behind him. The echoing click of her heels was irritating. “And here I thought you didn’t want to help me.”

“I don’t,” Leon agreed. He pressed his side to the wall beside the door. “But it’s better to keep an eye on you. Make sure you don’t get into anything you shouldn’t.”

Ada’s laugh was short and humourless. “Fine. I’ll let you babysit. I do like the view.” Ada took her position, gun at the ready for anything that came through the door. 

Cold storage had juice. Low power, but that was a good sign. Meant the big nasties were likely still snoozing, which made Leon’s job all that much easier. He pulled the nameplate out of his back pocket and pried the manual override panel off to find a nest of wires and blinking lights.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Leon grumbled.

“Problem?” Ada teased. 

Leon gestured as if to say ‘go ahead’ and stepped back. He took guard, eyes surveying the dark while Ada fiddled. He could do it, sure, but he knew full well she was faster. 

A shadow lumbered into his flashlight beam and out of the pitch-black as he swept the hall. Leon shot the zombie in the head twice. Then the one staggering right behind it. 

“Any second would be great.”

Ada clucked her tongue. “We could always switch back.”

Glass crunched to Leon’s right. He spun in time to catch the zombie that lurched at him, unsheathed his knife, and drove it into the undead bastard’s chest, forcing the zombie back. Then he shot it in the head twice.

“Got it.” The door hissed as it slid open a crack. “What would you do without me?”

Leon grabbed the edge and hauled it open enough for Ada to slip in. He followed quickly and closed the door as far as he could until there was less than an inch of space left to wedge his fingers in to open it again.

The room hummed with low energy. A few lights blinked in the dark. Leon crept further into the room while Ada watched the door. His breath fogged in the air. Cryogenic storage tubes lined the room, six rows of twelve. Most appeared to be unfinished projects in various forms of horrific mutation until Leon found the last row. 

“Jesus Christ,” Leon breathed. Behind him, he heard Ada’s sharp intake of air. Six Tyrants, like the one he’d fought his first day on the force in Racoon City, stood in identical storage tubes waiting for activation. He hadn’t a hope of defeating them himself with the firepower he had.

“Doesn’t this bring back memories,” Ada said, and Leon hated to agree. That many Tyrants would take massive firepower. He should have planned on it. 

“Generator’s right through there,” Leon said and motioned to the door behind the final row of specimens. “Ladies first.” 

“Always the gentleman,” Ada said. Leon rolled his eyes and followed the retreating click of her heels.

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[mattzerella-sticks]

metamorphosis

Chapter 1 (ao3)

Prologue (ao3) (tumblr)

What if, when Jack was born, he stayed a baby?

A retelling of season 13, with a few key differences.

No planned schedule, will update when I finish chapters lol

Chapter 1 - Dean I

           “Cas?”

           Dean waited, watching Cas’s lips. He waited for his name to be spoken, said in that same mixture of fondness and exasperation and gravel that ticked the tempo of his heart up a notch. He waited for his angel to smile, then tell Dean that he’s fine; that it wasn’t more than a scratch, that he’s still here.

           Any minute now.

           “…Cas?” Dean’s voice sounded scratchy, raw, like a needle ripped through a spinning record. He blinked back his tears, embarrassed, because Cas might wake soon and see him break, see him not be strong enough. His gaze broke from Cas’s bluing lips, staring at the starless sky above. He saw night begin its transition to early morning, a sun sliver dipping into the horizon, and wondered how long Cas will play with him like this. How long will Cas pretend to lie there? How long will Cas insist that he’s –

           “Cas!” Even with the extra help from gravity, Dean couldn’t stop the pinprick tears tracing their way down to his ears, wetness setting his skin aflame. He choked on a sob, the rubber band of his body snapping and recoiling into itself. His shoulders shook. He squeezed tight to his stomach. Dean closed his eyes, but inside that shuttered darkness was Cas, emerging from the portal. Cas with the blade in his hand. Cas with a blade, poking out his chest. “Oh… oh, God…”

           He’s really gone. He’s gone and Dean hurt. Dean hurt so much.

           Dean cracked one eye open, then another. In his periphery, he saw the tips of Cas’s limp fingers lying in the dirt along with the rest of his body.

           It was something he has wanted to do for some time now. Dean noticed what happens halfway into its journey, his trembling hand hovering over Cas’s. He lowered it cautiously. When there’s barely an inch of space separating his middle finger from Cas’s knuckles, Dean stopped. Dean couldn’t close that final gap. He stared at the emptiness between them, small but terrifyingly infinite, and was frozen in terror.

           “Dean!”

           Sam’s call stirred him from that horrid trance, urgency reminding Dean of all else that happened. Of Crowley’s sacrifice, of the portal closing, of mom on the other side; those events crashed into him like a terrible wave, washing him out into a roaring sea that denied him any sense or reason. Standing, legs ready to give out on him at any moment, Dean stumbled towards where he last heard his brother.

           He forgot about the steps. Sam caught him, guiding him past the threshold and into the cabin with lumbering haste. Dean’s vision returned to him soon, though. He drew Sam further to his side, for a loose hug, then shoved his brother’s oafish frame off of him. Dean supported himself using the wall instead. “What?” he asked, growling, “What is it?”

           Sam tried to speak but got cutoff by a shrill cry coming from another room. Sam shrugged, jerking his head to where, Dean guesses, the crying originated. He’d also take a stab at who’s responsible for crying, too.

           Kelly’s son. Lucifer’s son. The whole damned reason Dean’s life lay shattered in the clearing out back.

           Hearing those whines and sobs rattle the cabin’s chilly silence helped harden what remained of his heart, enough so that the baby’s shrieking echoed in the hollow chambers of Dean’s chest. It made what he must ask next much easier. “You didn’t kill him yet?”

           Sam visibly startled, jaw clenched that familiar way Dean knows meant an argument brewed within; his brother’s puppy dog features deceived, hiding his true feelings. Again, as Sam readied to speak, the baby took his cue and interrupted with a damning wail. Sam pressed his lips into a thin, mangled line while he waited his turn.

           A minute passed, and it’s doubtful the little guy would lose steam soon. Dean sighed. He pushed off the wall, passing Sam as he followed the noisy little bastard. Sam stayed right behind him, heavy footsteps and chiding tone mixing with the crying to shred Dean’s nerves into oblivion. “You are not doing this, Dean,” Sam hissed, tugging on his elbow, “we need to talk about it first –“

           “Who can talk over all this racket!” He wrenched his arm free, storming into the baby’s nursery while Sam dawdled under the doorframe. Their entrance meant little to the newborn, who continued crying despite their entrance. “And I’m not killing him –“ he kept his yet stored in the barrel of his mouth, unfired, conscious of how it will be received in the moment – “gonna shut him up for a while, s’all…” Dean punctuated his claim by grabbing the baby, Jack if the painted name on the crib meant anything, and tucking him into the crook of his arm. He bounced him like he did Sam decades ago, like he would for any normal baby, cooing sweet nothing that tumbled out of him as if they were sand in a broken hourglass, shards mixed within. Dean spied a rocking chair in the corner and, with Sam’s piercing gaze studying him, Dean collapsed into it.

           That seemed to work. Dean’s gentle rocking, paired with a hummed lullaby cherrypicked from his past, put the hellion in his arms at ease. Jack stared up, transfixed by what Dean guessed is the tall lamp casting a gentle glow on them both; a lamp Sam, now in the room and by his side, flicked on after Dean sat down. It must be the center of his focus, because Dean wouldn’t believe the baby looked at him like he did; like he’s a bright and beautiful thing, deserving of attention, of being the center of his known universe. He didn’t want that, especially from him.

           Dean swallowed a curse and ended their contest, sure if he looked into the baby’s eyes any longer, he would damn the consequences and wring the life from this tiny body nestled in his hands. He waited for Jack’s fit to tamper lower and lower, rising only after a moment of uninterrupted silence. Dean carried Jack back, returning him to his crib. He added another mistake into the column of ever-increasing errors and glanced at Lucifer’s kid a final time. He examined him, searching for little horns or a tail or tattoos of sixes; he found nothing. Nothing that proved he’s more than a child, innocent and carefree.

           Sam hung by his shoulder, buzzing halo bothersome in Dean’s ear. “I think he likes you.”

           Dean huffed under breath, “I wish I could say the same.”

           He left. Sam trailed in his wake; tread heavy from being constipated with a smug righteousness Dean dreaded will be shat all over him when Sam had the chance. He was silent until the kitchen, then Sam struck. “His mother just died, Dean.”

           Dean shrugged, “So did ours.” He expected that to feel weird saying, but it hadn’t. Sam gaped at him, like it had. Maybe Dean’s in shock. Maybe he was too used to having a dead mom. Dean carried on regardless. “If you think a sob story’s gonna convince me of anything, try hitting me when the kids got enough pages to fill a book larger than Moby Dick’s, or ours. Right now, he’s a table of contents and not much else.”

           “Exactly,” Sam needled, poking Dean’s chest. Dean swat him away with the refrigerator door, creating a makeshift barrier to protect himself from Sam’s crusade. He dug around for something to drink, something boozy, as Sam prattled. “Look, Dean, we… I know our thing is – our thing is killing monsters but, Dean, he’s a baby. He – he didn’t do anything –“

           “He was conceived,” Dean said, “that’s enough for me.” His groping fingers pushed aside the carton of milk for a third time; he still couldn’t find the beer.

           “That wasn’t his fault.” Sam rested his hand over Dean’s where it rested on the refrigerator door, pleading for Dean to look at him by touch alone. Dean relented, darting his eyes for a fleeting glance. Sam’s brows were drawn in like a steep hill, and he appeared absolutely ghastly because of the refrigerator’s light. Dean fell back to his mission. “Lucifer… he set this in motion, and we’ve dealt with him.”

           “And what did it cost us?”

           Sam sighed. “Everyone we lost knew what this was about,” he told Dean, “knew how it might end. They were ready to risk their lives for this.”

           “We were here to take down Lucifer, end of story,” Dean spat, knocking items onto the floor in his fervor. He tore through like a whirlwind, throwing food everywhere. Eggs, lettuce, ketchup and pickles – no beer though. Dammit. “And with the kid kicking, we haven’t even finished our mission.”

           “Jack is not Lucifer!” Sam squeezed Dean’s wrist, begging for more attention. Dean’s spiteful, rigid glare burned a hole in the back of the fridge. He refused to move even an inch. “He’s a baby, and we… we kill monsters. We kill the ones who have no chance of being saved. He was just born, Dean. He had no choice in that.”

           “Who’s to say that he won’t choose to be a monster, once he’s old enough?”

           Sam strangled his wrist, now, Dean’s fingers numbing because of his brother’s impassioned grip. “We’ll make sure. We’ll raise him right.”

           This drew Dean out of the refrigerator. “We?” he laughed, bitterness churning in his gut. “We, really? You think…” Dean didn’t finish, speechless at the insanity Sam presented. He and Sam, raising Lucifer’s kid? He and Sam, sheltering the baby who ruined their lives? He and Sam… “I hate to break it to you, Sammy,” he continued, his voice returning, “but this ain’t the nineties. We can’t have it all, clearly. And we are not taking that kid in like some muddy stray.”

           “Cas wanted to raise him.”

           Dean gagged. The toxic rush of seconds ago disappeared, spilling out from the seam Sam pulled loose.

           Sam, at least, was aware enough to briefly mime an apology. His face contorted into a pained expression, exaggerated to better mangle his earlier fury. However, that’s smoothed and replaced with sterner features as he detached himself from his words, and the ugliness that they inspired. He stood tall, committed to the outburst, and from the curl of his scowl, Dean wouldn’t expect him to take back what’s been said. It will linger like the other ghosts.

           If that was how he wanted to do this.

           “Sure,” Dean agreed, “and that got him what, exactly?” He slammed the refrigerator door, startling both of them and the baby. Jack’s wailing picked up where he left off, although sharper and more annoying. Dean pushed into Sam, instinct urging him to soothe like he did earlier. Dean stopped himself, hesitating. He spun on his heel, leaving where he came in.

           Sam shouted, “You can’t just run away Dean!”

           “I’m getting some air, is all!” he yelled back, ripping the door off its hinges in his haste to leave.

           A terrifying gust rammed into him almost immediately, giving him the very air he craved. Then, a second wind blows in the opposite direction; stealing his breath as his gaze landed on the body of his angel, immobile, with black skid marks in a shoddy recreation of what might be wings splayed beside him like oddly bent branches. Dean blindly descended, too focused with Cas’s form than the stairs. When his feet reached solid, uneven ground, Dean slowed to a glacial pace. Cas didn’t react.

           Dean tried not to, too. Hand at his cheek, wiping some more stray tears, Dean failed.

           He ripped himself away, jogging from the backyard space towards the front where his true escape was. Dean white knuckled his keys, jagged teeth biting into the palm of his hand. Pain kept him from spiraling, from thinking, from staying there. And when he couldn’t use pain, key nestled in the ignition instead of his hand, Dean had the next best thing – open roads.

           The engine roared, overpowering the blood rushing past his ears. Dean demolished the speed limit easily, bulleting across the asphalt, pedal his trigger. It’s early enough he needn’t worry about highway patrolmen or wayward pedestrians. He drove fast, loose, and recklessly. Fuck Vin Diesel, Dean thought. Vin had nothing on him.

           Kelly’s cabin was a blurry spot in his rearview mirror, a speck he might scratch off with his nail if he pleased. Trees became indistinguishable from each other. Not that it mattered, Dean’s tunnel vision blocking his periphery. His eyes remained fixed ahead of him, uncharacteristically so. It took most his focus to keep like that, hands cramping on the wheel from throttling it. He counted dash after dash and tallied potholes as he hit them, stuffing his mind with senseless figures other than the lone one he abandoned in the field.

           Soon, Dean reached a nearby town. The greenery became sparser, leaves and wood replaced by buildings and city blocks and lampposts and streetlights. He hit his first light, a blip of red flashing for attention. Thoughtlessly, Dean flattened his foot against the brake; Baby’s tires squealing as she fought momentum. Dean knocked against his dashboard from the force, falling back only after his car fully stopped. He couldn’t see the streetlight dangling above. Dean knew he sat over the line, his Baby’s hood hanging in the intersection, asking for an accident.

           A second later, and what he was driving from caught up to him.

           Dean gasped, curling in on himself, hands glued to the wheel. His body seized with sobs that bruise, each tremor punching his gut. He used what little strength he had and glanced at his reflection. That speck on his rearview, that he foolishly clawed at, didn’t disappear; it was caught in his bloodshot eyes.

           He couldn’t continue driving like this.

           Red light, green light, it didn’t matter now. Dean crawled along to the nearest lot that belonged to a tacky chain eatery. Parking inside, Dean threw his car door open and spilled free of his Baby. He fell to his knees, hissing, denim ripping on impact and gravel scratching his skin. Dean staggered to his feet. Blood trickled down his leg from the open wound on his knee. He walked forward, dazed, while Baby idled at an angle, keys trapped in her ignition. If it were later in the day, someone might steal her. If Dean were acting like himself, he might care.

           He didn’t go far. Dean slowed as he approached the fast-food joint, stopping inches from the backdoor. His bottom lip wobbled, Dean raking his hair with twitching fingers. He stared at the door, at the wooden sign hanging by a single, rusted nail. It depicted a stereotypical pirate, with hat, beard, and eyepatch, painted on a blue background and encircled by cartoonish rope that framed this pirate’s face along with an oblong addition underneath of the word ‘BUCCANEERS’. The pirate glared ahead, at some far point, as if Dean weren’t there blocking it.

           But he was. Dean was here, while everyone else – everyone he cared about…

           “Why me?” he muttered, “Why’s it always… why do I have to deal with it, with the after, with picking up the pieces of someone else’s mess.” Dean growled, head bowed, eyes unflinchingly locked with the pirate’s. “Mom… Crowley… Ca” – he stuttered on his name, wounds still too fresh – “you’re gonna bring him back. You’re gonna bring them all back. After everything I’ve done for this shithole, that I’ve been through, it’s the least that I’m owed. I deserve to… I – I don’t deserve this.”

           The pirate ignored his pleas, it couldn’t answer him. And Chuck, apparently, wouldn’t answer him.

           “…Okay.”

           Dean launched himself at the pirate, picturing a brown beard instead of black, and a grayish blue eye where a black one was painted. He smashed it with one punch, face splintering and spraying everywhere. Dean continued wrecking it, nearly destroying the door in his fury. Aiming a final blow, Dean hit the sign off the nail and sent it flying from view.

           Exhausted, knuckles as bloody as his knee, Dean collapsed near the stacked crates and leaning pallets.

           A shudder traveled across his body, from the top of his head, dragged along each vertebra like a sharp, clawed finger, and finally making his legs seize and stretch out in front of him. Dean vacuumed in a deep breath, chest ballooning to contain it. He won’t release it willingly.

           “Dude…”

           Coughing, Dean glanced up at some teenager standing nearby, gaping at the scene. He wore a large brown jacket a shade lighter than his skin over a deep blue polo that matches the visor currently worn like a headband, so his bangs wouldn’t  his face. A ring of keys dangled in his hands. Keys that, Dean guessed, were for opening the very door he pummeled as if it were a punching bag.

           “Hey, man,” the teen asked, glancing between Dean and the wrecked door, “are you… like, good? Do I need to call someone?”

           A repairman. The teen’s manager. Neither would do Dean any good, but both will need to know about the damage he did to the property.

           Dean groaned, climbing to his feet. He swayed with the breeze, a lone willow in this blacktop clearing. Some of the blood from his knuckles drippled like morning dew would off its leaves. He advanced, the teen tensing as he moves closer. Their shoulders brushed, the younger of the two stumbling back a few inches, cowering in Dean’s presence. Dean thought he should say something, let him know there’s nothing to be afraid of.

           That felt like too much of a damned lie, so he caught the words in his throat and swallowed them down.

           He returned to his car, starting it like nothing happened, like his skin hadn’t torn and tears weren’t drying on his cheeks as he refused to wipe them off. Dean tapped the pedal and drove off. He drove the same path he took earlier, only in reverse. He drove to Kelly’s cabin, and all that waited for him there.

           Dean parked sloppily, again; however, pocketing his keys this time as he left Baby. He didn’t acknowledge the front door, shuffling into the backyard for another glimpse of Cas’s body.

           Cas was gone. His wings were still there, and Sam was, too.

           Sam dropped a stack of branches onto a large pile he must have begun gathering after Dean fled. He rubbed at his neck, steadily avoiding where Dean’s gaze was by looking at the pile. “I moved him,” he explained, “I figured we might as well start on the… on the pyres for him, and Kelly.” Sam paused. He grabbed a lone branch, snapping a twig from it. “I didn’t do anything else. Figured you would want to…”

           “Yeah.” Dean blinked, then imagined the shadows burnt into the ground rising and rising, flapping determinately, until they vanished. He blinked. Those wings hadn’t moved an inch.

           Dean headed into the cabin.

           He spied Cas’s body immediately, laid atop the kitchen table. Sam rearranged him during transit, closing his eyes and setting Cas’s arms at his sides. If he weren’t thinking about it constantly, weren’t reminded of Cas’s current state with every beat of his own heart, Dean might believe Cas was asleep. Or, at the very least, imitating it, since angels can’t sleep. They can’t eat. There’s a lot they can’t do. And Cas won’t ever not do any of that, not anymore.

           Sighing, Dean circled the table while tracing the edges of it with his fingertips. He reached the other side, where a gauzy pair of curtains hung. Dean swung his arm outward, going through the motions to free them. It’s quick work.

           Wrapping Cas with these curtains will take a lifetime.

            Dean started by lifting Cas’s head and slipping a strip underneath. He cradled him, unnaturally soft tufts of hair tickling his fingers. Holding Cas in such a manner encouraged further action, tempted Dean to do more. He succumbed to these voices, the fast few hours since they last sung weakened his resolve. Dean ran his bloodied knuckles across Cas’s face. He stained deathly pale skin red. He hissed, stubble like sandpaper against his cuts. He left no wrinkle untouched.

           Finally, Dean switched to his thumb and pressed it just below Cas’s lips.

           It’s maddening, touching Cas like this, like he always wanted. He dreamt of being able to for longer than he could remember. Daydreams and fantasies of Dean, curled into Cas’s side, leisurely and lovingly memorizing every inch of the other’s face. Those moments were always pretend, too human to ever be real, to expect from an angel like Cas. Now, as his thumb swept along the bow of Cas’s lips, Dean paid his respects to the thousands of imagined mornings and nights that would not be. Dean worshiped Cas in a way he never wanted to, but in the only way he’d ever be allowed to.

           “I’m sorry…” Dean placed a featherlight kiss to the corner of Cas’s mouth. Then, unable to bear looking at him, he wrapped the curtain over his face.

           He shrouded the rest of Cas’s body with military precision, robotically completing his ritual. Dean hovered at his side, tightly clutching the final knot in Cas’s wrappings. His head hung listlessly, the foundations of a prayer forming on his tongue. He gnashed his teeth together, smashing it, and the sentiment’s remains tumbled backwards. It ripped apart his insides like glass. The only person who would listen, who’d care, who might heal this hurt, couldn’t.

           Cas was –

           Dean let go, marching into the backyard. Silently Dean joined Sam, amassing wood in his stead while Sam assembled the pyres.

           Together, they completed their duties by sundown. It might have been sooner if Sam didn’t slack off to play nursemaid to Lucifer’s kid. He ran off at the slightest bit of static coming from the garish, incongruently colored baby monitor clipped onto his belt loop, dragging their duties out because of intermittent breaks. When they finally set Cas and Kelly on their respective pyres, the sky darkened to the same shade it was that they lost both of them.

           Dean handled the fire. He struck two matches from a box buried in a kitchen drawer, then tossed them into the kindling. Sam, meanwhile, held a very fussy baby that showed no respect for ceremony. His piercing shrieks rung out clearly, somehow amplified by the open space. And as Jack’s cries mixed with the roar and crackle of flames, along with Sam mindlessly grunting back in a desperate plea for Jack to stop, Dean gave in. He stole Jack from Sam, nestling the baby against his chest.

           His temper lessened while in Dean’s arms, and Jack soon quieted.

           Dean felt Sam’s stare on his profile once more, an uncomfortable heat much different than what radiated from the cremating bodies before them. He hated it, being gawked at like some zoo animal. Yet Dean refused to turn, to bark at Sam that this momentary lapse meant nothing.

           He’s only exhausted. Too tired to shutter the devastation on his face, every crack of Dean’s heart was on full display. He’s not in the mood to fight with Sam, either, aware he needed him more than he needed to lash out. He’s broken and couldn’t even manage the energy to toss Jack into the fires like he imagined himself doing.

           Instead, Dean embraced him. He watched the smoke of his angel’s body drift upwards, Cas leaving him for good, forever, and rested his chin against the small, soft head of Cas’s destroyer.

Tagged List:

@llamasdumpsterfire

[seanfalco]

Hey, I love your Klaus and Nathan fics, they are my favorite! I don't know if you do crossovers, but if you do I was wondering If you could write a fic where Nathan and Klaus fight over Y/N, each one trying to charm her and seduce her. Thank you <3

words count: 2.3k a/n: I’ll admit this was a bit of a challenge for me, but I enjoyed it.  I ended up writing three short alternate endings, so you could pick your favourite.  There’s really no plot to this, but dang if this isn’t the dream, man.

——

Extricating yourself from the crowd, you made your way to the kitchen, dodging other stumbling drunken party goers til you found the makeshift bar.  Surveying your options, a voice across the counter from you caught your attention and you glanced up to see who had addressed you.

“What’re yeh drinkin’?”

As you looked up at the guy standing across from you, leaning against the counter, a kitchen towel draped over his shoulder, you caught his eye as he leered at you unabashedly, biting his lip, his gaze flicking down and back up appraisingly and you cocked an eyebrow at him, taking in his appearance as well.

Young, probably early twenties if you had to guess, he was lanky, something he’d probably grow into, with a mop of unruly dark curls and eyes that sparkled when he grinned -- his smile catching you off guard and you found yourself grinning back.  

“What, you the bartender, or something?” you asked, eyeing him skeptically.

“Well, what else would I be?” he shot back with a cheeky grin as he plucked at the towel slung over his shoulder, as if that proved it.  “I’ll be anythin’ you want me t’be,” he continued when you didn’t look convinced.

“Smooth one, aren’tcha?” you asked with a laugh, leaning against the counter and his grin widened as his eyes slipped to the low cut collar of your shirt, rather unsubtly, his adam’s apple bobbing as he stared.

“Y’know, it’s hard to trust people at parties, there are so many guys that’ll mix girls’ drinks stronger to get them drunk faster, just so they can take advantage of them” you said conspiratorially while giving him a warning look, which he blanched under, chuckling nervously. 

“That--that’s awful,” he exclaimed, scandalized, rebounding quickly.  “What kind of sick, perverted individual would do such a thing?”

His eyes darted from yours and you snorted, deciding to go easy on him -- at least he was cute.

“Look, if yeh don’t trust me, you can watch exactly how much I pour, alright?” he asked, a slight petulant huff to his voice that made you laugh and you agreed, telling him what you wanted and leaning forward to watch him mix it, laughing even harder when he tried to get fancy and nearly dropped the bottle of liquor, managing to catch it before much spilled.

“Thank you, uhm…?” you exclaimed as he handed you the cup, hesitating, waiting for him to supply his name.

“Nathan,” he replied and you ducked your head, raising your cup in thanks.

“And do I get th’pleasure of knowin’ your name?” he asked, his cheeky smirk returning, “so I’ll at least know what name I’ll be moanin’ tonight when I get lucky,” he added with a wink and you quickly brought your cup to your lips to hide your flushed cheeks, a little surprised that your drink really wasn’t all that strong.

“Are you always this self-assured?” you asked, once you’d composed yourself.  “I’m actually a little impressed.”

Nathan merely grinned, spreading his hands and shrugging.

Rolling your eyes, you decided to go easy on him once more, he had made you a drink after all, and hadn’t been too much of a creep about it.

“I’m [y/n],” you answered and Nathan opened his mouth, no doubt to make another cheeky remark when you felt someone sidle up to the counter next to you, his voice cutting Nathan off and drawing your attention.

“[y/n], huh?  Such a lovely name.  In fact, it happens to be my mother’s name as well, what a coincidence.”

“Oh, really?” you asked, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in your voice, though an amused grin played at your lips -- this hadn’t been the first time you’d heard such a line used before.

“Well, it could’ve been,” the newcomer quipped with a shrug, flashing you a roguish grin that made your breath hitch as you turned to him.  “I never had the pleasure of knowing her, but you…” he paused, taking your hand in his before bringing it to his lips, his manicured facial hair tickling your skin as his dark rimmed eyes flicked up to yours, quickening your pulse and you couldn’t but notice his dark fingernail polish and distinctive palm tattoos.

“...You I’d definitely like to know,” he finished, his long wavy curls brushing his shoulder as he tilted his head to smile at you.

“How sad,” you replied, feigning seriousness to his tired pickup line, watching the handsome stranger in front of you with curiosity, feeling Nathan’s scowl on the pair of you.

“It is, but c’est la vie,” the man mused with a vacant wave of his hand and a dramatic sigh, “perhaps you’d like to distract me from the heart-wrenching sorrow?”

Fighting back a grin, you tilted your head to match, propping your hand on your hip.  “Alright drama queen, do you have a name?”

“You, dear fraulein, may call me Klaus,” he intoned, his eyes flicking past you to Nathan and a smug grin twisted his lips.

Oh boy, you thought, knowing where this was headed.

“So,” Nathan exclaimed loudly, trying to catch your attention back from Klaus.  “What’s a bird like you doin’ at a party like this all alone?  That is, unless you came here with someone--?”

Oh, very subtle.

You took another drink from your cup before answering.  “Are you asking if I have a boyfriend?” you asked pointedly, onto his game, and Nathan shrugged, frowning.

“Well, do yeh?” he replied.

Glancing over, you found Klaus looking just as interested, though he hid it better, plucking a bottle out from the others and pouring himself a shot as he waited for your answer.

“Nope, I came here with a friend, but she ditched me to dance with some hot girl, and she’s probably busy tasting her cherry chapstick right about now, if you know what I mean,” you mumbled, tipping back the rest of your drink.  “So, which of you wants to dance with me and distract me from this heart-wrenching betrayal?” you asked, feeling rather bold as you finished off your drink, your eyes flicking between Klaus and Nathan.

Before you knew it, Klaus’s hand was in yours, pulling you with him toward the next room where the music was playing.  Glancing over your shoulder as he led you away, you flashed Nathan an apologetic smile as he was left to simmer sullenly.

However, before you could feel too bad for him, Klaus was pulling you into his arms to dance and your pulse spiked at his proximity.

“Finally, we’re alone,” he sighed melodramatically and you draped your arms over his shoulders, following his lead and swaying with him despite being completely at odds with the driving bass that poured through the speakers, much to your amusement.

“Why’d you want to get me alone so badly?” you asked curiously, your finger idly twisting in his long curls and your eyes found his.  This close he smelt of stale cigarettes and alcohol, and faintly of something else you couldn’t quite place, but it wasn’t unpleasant.

“Why not?” he countered, challenging you, “It’s so much better to go after what you want, don’t you think?”  His lips quirked into a mischievous grin, and paired with those smokey eyes you didn’t stand a chance.

“Charmer,” you murmured, melting against him as he leaned in, his lips inches from yours and you let your eyelids flutter shut in anticipation.

Suddenly you felt someone bump into Klaus, jostling you as well and your eyes snapped open.

“Sorry mate,” Nathan’s lilting voice called in faux surprise, as if it were totally a coincidence that he’d just run into the two of you.  “Guess it looks like it’s my turn,” he exclaimed, turning to you.  “Can I cut in?” he asked smugly and you couldn’t help but grin a little, letting him pull you further into the crowd as you blew a kiss to Klaus.

“You did that on purpose,” you pointed out and Nathan merely shrugged, not even bothering to look guilty.

“Maybe I did and maybe I didn’t,” he quipped and you rolled your eyes.

“Are you jealous?” you asked instead, laughing delightedly as he spluttered indignantly, taking your hands and threading his fingers with yours as you danced together.

“Me, jealous?  Of that pretty boy?  As if!”  

Throwing back your head, you laughed freely, collapsing against Nathan and though he made a show of scowling, you could tell he was pleased.

After the song ended you told him you had to use the restroom, slipping out of the crowd with a promise to return soon.

——

Fixing your hair in the mirror before returning to the party, you grinned at the thought of the two equally charming, if completely opposite men out there waiting for you, knowing eventually you’d have to make a choice.

Not far, you found Nathan and Klaus eyeing each other disdainfully, catching a snippet of their conversation as you approached.

“Hey man, piss off, I saw her first, that means I have dibs!” Nathan exclaimed headedly, pointing a finger threateningly in Klaus’s amused face.

“Aww that’s cute, you actually think you have a chance with [y/n].  Clearly, she was more interested in me,” Klaus countered, gesturing to himself importantly.

“Oh, please, y’smug bastard, he had chemistry.  Didn’t yeh see her eye fuckin’ me before you came and stuck your big fat nose where it wasn’t wanted?”

“Chemistry?” Klaus scoffed, holding up his hands, flashing his inked Hello and Goodbye.  “I hate to break it to you shit stain, but that’s not what I’d call it --”

Oh shit, you thought, having heard enough of their bickering.  Bracing yourself, you strode over to them…

Nathan

“Nathan, Klaus,” you exclaimed, catching their attention, your pulse spiking as both sets of surprisingly similar eyes swung toward you.

“Klaus,” you murmured, reaching up on your toes to brush a kiss to his cheek, you flashed him a smile before pulling away, slipping your hand in Nathan’s.  “Thank you for the dance, I had a lot of fun,” you said and his face fell for a moment before he shook his head slightly, smiling to himself.

“The pleasure was all mine,” he replied and you turned, pulling a speechless Nathan with you, though he quickly shook himself out of it, sticking his tongue out at Klaus over his shoulder before you were pulling him back into the bathroom with you.

Not wasting any time, as soon as the door clicked shut you yanked Nathan to you, his lips colliding with yours and a pleased moan slipped from your mouth and he kissed you back eagerly, his hands wandering hungrily.

Pulling back for a moment Nathan gaped at you.  “Why’d you pick me for?” he asked between kisses and you jumped up to the counter, taking your shirt off before slipping his over his head and trailing your fingers down his smooth chest, your gaze holding his.

“Because you made me laugh, and besides, you smirked, taking his hand and guiding it to your breast, “he had chemistry.”

Klaus

“Nathan, Klaus,” you exclaimed, catching their attention, your pulse spiking as both sets of surprisingly similar eyes swung toward you.  

Catching Klaus’s eyes you shared a look and his lips twitched as you turned apologetically to Nathan, reaching up to brush an errant curl from his forehead. 

“Nathan, thank you for the drink and the dance, but I think I’m gunna --” the rest of your words were cut off as Klaus draped his arm over your shoulder, pulling you close to his side.

“We’re gunna get outta here,” Klaus exclaimed smugly, wheeling you away from Nathan who gaped after you.

“Oh, sure, whatever, pick him!” he called after you.  “There’re plenty of other drunk impressionable girls here who’ll wanna shag me!”

Once you’d left the noise of the party behind, you walked across the street to a nearby park, empty at this time of night, Klaus sitting at an empty bench, pulling you into his lap.

“Now, I seem to remember being in the middle of something before we were so rudely interrupted,” he mused softly, his gaze finding yours as his hands slipped up to cradle your face.

“Hmm, you’ll have to remind me, I can’t quite remember…” you teased, smirking as pulled you closer, finally pressing his lips to yours.  Wanting more you swiped your tongue impatiently against his bottom lip, tasting him as a shiver raced down your spine.

“So hasty,” he murmured against your lips, grinning.

“What can I say, it’s so much better to go after what you want, don’t you--” before you could get the words out, Klaus took you by surprise, drawing your bottom lip between his teeth before his tongue darted into your mouth, deepening the kiss like you’d wanted and soon you were full on making out in the middle of the park, not really caring if anyone saw.

Both

“Gentlemen, let’s not fight,” you exclaimed, cutting off their argument, your pulse spiking as both sets of surprisingly similar eyes swung toward you, but a mischievous smile tugged at your lips, heat rushing through you at the thought that had gripped you.  

“...After all,” you murmured, taking both their hands and drawing them with you, “there’s enough to share.”

Klaus’ and Nathan’s eyes widened, Nathan’s mouth going slack while Klaus merely grinned darkly, and both men let you lead them back to the host’s bedroom, away from the rest of the party.  

“That is, if you think you can get along long enough for that,” you purred, shutting the door behind you.

“This isn’t my first rodeo, sweetheart,” Klaus exclaimed, slipping to the bed and pulling you into his lap, brushing your hair aside to trail his lips along your neck teasingly, drawing a soft moan from you as you reached for Nathan, pulling him down next to you.

“I can share, if he can,” he muttered, swallowing thickly and you grinned, hooking your finger under his collar and drawing him to you, pressing your lips to his, and soon you weren’t sure whose hands were whose, the only thing you were certain of what that you were so glad you’d come to this party tonight.

-----------------------

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