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hanatiny · 3 years

Text

Perfect Illusion

a/n: this fic is inspired by this post (although I modified the idea a bit)! for those interested, I even made a spotify playlist to hopefully enhance the experience~

pairing: royal guard!San x royal guard/spy!f!reader

genre: smut

word count: 2113

warnings: royal AU, weapons (knives and daggers), brief mention of infidelity (which I do not condone), swearing, teasing, dry humping, hair pulling, name-calling (they keep insulting each other... oops), enemies with benefits, implied enemies to lovers (kind of), slight knife kink, implied pain kink, exhibitionism, unprotected sex, no clear dom/sub roles

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Despite excelling at undercover work, you weren’t known be incredibly ‘out there’ in the way you executed your tasks, so this particular mission you had been given must have been the one you disliked the most as of now, not to mention that you despised the tactic of seduction.

You did your best to attract as little attention as possible in order to carry out your information gathering in peace. Although it seemed that in doing so, you had become a little too suspicious for one of the guards. You heaved a sigh, meeting his eyes while most of his face remained covered by the hood and the mask he wore to not look like the odd one out at the royal masquerade event. He nudged his head towards a nearby balcony after asking for one of his fellow guards to watch his spot, signalling you to follow.

Albeit slowly, you did what was asked of you - your beliefs were much too deeply rooted in obedience not to. Once outside, the guard closed and locked the door behind you. Shrugging off his hood, he took off his mask while you did the same so the two of you were equally bare to each other.

“San?!” “Y/n?!” You both gasped aloud in equal shock and surprise, slapping a hand over each other’s mouths to prevent anyone from hearing how casually you spoke with each other.

Prying your hand away from his face, although still holding it in his own, San quirked an inquisitive eyebrow at you, “What, pray tell, are you doing here at this party wearing that?”

Your voice was teasing as you spoke and he gestured towards the black dress you were wearing, “Oh, this old thing~?” He rolled his eyes at your playful tone but allowed you to continue, “As much as I didn’t want to, His Highness requested me to keep my eyes and ears open for anything or anyone suspicious... and had the bright idea of having me use seduction to get the job done.”

Despite knowing how much you hated the technique in question, San thought it fun to tease and rile you up about it, “Do I classify as suspicious then? Cause you’ve definitely caught my interest and seduced me...~”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing him and pulling him close by the tie he was wearing before whispering in his ear, “With how flirty you’re being, definitely. I might have to arrest you now, sunshine~ But if you play your cards right, I might let you fuck me, pretty boy.”

It was your turn to cock an eyebrow when San nonchalantly turned the situation around on you and pinned you against the wall roughly, both of your wrists above your head in one of his own while an almost bored grin danced across on your face at the act. “That all you got~?”

“Not at all, sweetheart...~” “Show me then,” you challenged without hesitation, hooking one of your legs around his hip to draw his body closer and flush against yours, “show me what you can do, unless you want to admit that a woman could dom you~”

Bullseye. You hit him right in his sore spot, knowing him to be much too competitive to let such a cheeky comment slide. You saw something shift in his eyes, something dark, and you knew you had him right then and there, “You asked for it... don’t complain if you limp afterwards.”

“Wanna bet~?” San effectively shut you up by melding his plush lips to yours, your hands tugging greedily at his already messy hair while the grinding of your hips against his coaxed a soft moan from his lips.

“You really don’t intend to make it easy for me do you, little vixen...” He whispered against your lips, his voice low and raspy as he did so, causing you to give him a casual shrug, “You know me, I always want to be the one who comes out on top. Whether that is in the physical sense or not couldn’t matter any less to me, frankly.”

San huffed softly, he knew you were competitive but so was here. However, the difference between the two of you was that you were willing to play dirty to get what you want.

As such, you couldn’t prevent a slight smirk from tugging at your lips when his breath hitched audibly after he pushed the hem of your dress up to your hips and spotted the daggers strapped to one of your thighs. “Staring longer won’t make the image imprint itself in your mind any faster. And in case you haven’t noticed with how much you want my daggers on your body, I’m worked up and hereby telling you to hurry up and fuck me. Right here, right now.”

“Getting feisty and demanding, are we? Two can play that game, Y/n...~” Reaching into the inside of his jacket, San pulled out a knife and held it to your throat while the cocky smirk never left your face, “Are you just gonna keep threatening me with a good time so that I’ll walk right back in there and tell everyone you’re my bitch, or are you actually gonna do something about that obvious boner in your pants?”

San’s eyebrow twitched at your audacity, the discovery of the fact that you had foregone underwear tonight not helping his dwindling patience in the slightest, “Pathetic how desperate you are for my cock, you minx. Needing to cover it up with such a tough girl act...”

He trailed off, watching you closely as he pocketed his knife and used his now unoccupied hand to quickly unfasten his pants and free his aching length from its confines. He stroked himself a few times, the seconds passing torturously slowly in your eyes as you licked your lips in anticipation before throwing your head back against the wall with a strangled gasp when he fully inserted himself inside of you without warning.

“You son of a-” “Shush doll, don’t want anyone to hear what we’re doing out here do you~?” You huffed as he interrupted you, pretending to think for a moment before shaking your head with a smile, “I actually do, imagine the surprise when they’d hear that two of the royal guards are all over each other...~”

San’s eyes darkened once more before narrowing them at you, “You asked for it, then... Be prepared to scream.”

“Such big words from the man who’d let me spit in his mouth~” You weren’t having it though, only mewling and moaning softly while San repeatedly snapped his hips into yours. His pace was rough and quick, eager to get both you and himself off, “Won’t even, fuck- won’t even scream for me... am I not fucking you hard enough?”

“Mmh... nope~!” You replied with a toothy grin, gasping sharply when San thrusted inside of you particularly harshly. “That better?” “Much~” He continued to move at the harsh pace he had just set, his breath hitching when his hand accidentally brushed against the leather garter still fixed securely around your thigh.

He felt himself twitch violently when you spoke through low pants, his thrusts stuttering, “Wouldn’t you love to have me trail one of those daggers over your sensitive skin, sunshine? Perhaps even pierce it a little here and there to show who you belong to~?”

Those last words came out unintentionally but you didn’t feel the need to correct yourself, considering that your possessiveness appeared to be the last straw for San judging by the warmth that filled you as he came, your own orgasm washing over you shortly after. Once you had both caught your breath, he carefully pulled out of you and helped you straighten out your dress after doing the same to his own clothes.

You implying that he was yours was undoubtedly a matter to be discussed, but for now, you two had a masquerade to return to. As such, San handed your mask back to you after having previously stored it in one of his jacket pockets. You both secured your masks back on your faces so that your identities were concealed once more, although San decided to not pull his hood back up.

He unlocked the balcony door before turning to you with a teasing albeit charming smile, holding his hand out for you to take, “Will you let me have this dance, m’lady~?”

You found it amusing how quickly he could switch back to his professional persona, placing your hand in his own regardless, “It’d be my pleasure~”

He led you back inside of the large, well-lit ballroom where no one was any the wiser of what had transpired mere minutes ago, your dress swaying slightly while you danced with San, a small grin painted on your features.

You ended up getting to bed incredibly late, almost stumbling out of it the next morning before quickly making yourself presentable after being requested in the throne room by His Highness himself, wondering what it could possibly be about.

You ran into San on the way there, finding out that he had been called to see the prince as well. Pushing the heavy wooden door open, you weren’t particularly surprised to find it empty besides the presences of you, your companion and Yeosang, who had placed his crown on a pedestal near himself.

Letting his emotionless facade crack a bit, he gave a small smile when he saw the two of you kneel before him as it was custom for the subordinates or the royal family.

“Those who want to wear the crown need to prove they are able to bear its weight.”

Yeosang’s voice rang out through the room, causing you and San to look at each other questioningly and then back up at him in confusion. The older male had never been more glad to not have any other of his court officials or guards besides the two of you inside of his throne room, relieved that he could be blunt about his message.

“I’m sure you both are aware of how I came to be where I am presently, yes?” You both nodded in response. “Then you know my mother was not a true queen and slept her way to the throne. Hell, I’m even a bastard child - her husband was not my father. In short... she was a whore.”

San gasped quietly next to you in surprise at the word choice, causing you to nudge him gently to remind him to focus and listen.

“I don’t want to keep the two of you here any longer than necessary,” the unrightful prince leaned forward, his weight still resting on the arm he had previously propped himself up on, “My coronation is set to be held eleven days from now. Whichever of you comes up with the better plan to cover up my ‘coincidental’ disappearance by then gets to claim the throne.”

It was a tempting offer, that much you had to admit, but it sounded almost too good to actually be true.

“Your Highness-” “Please drop the formalities Y/n, you’ve known me since I was a little child.” The young man in question corrected softly as you cleared your throat with an understanding nod, “Are you sure this will work out as you intend it to? I’m not sure anyone would believe one of your royal guards to be allowed to inherit the crown just like that...”

“Y/n. Surely you’ve noticed how desperate the people are for a ruler who stands with them, even with all the time you spend working? They’ll accept just about anyone. As long as neither of you exposes the truth about any part of my family... do we have a deal?”

San looked at you and met your eyes, lingering for a few beats before getting up from his knees with you following suit as you looked up at the prince and spoke in unison, always up for a challenge - especially if it just so happened to come with a high reward like this one did, “We have a deal.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Now off you two go, there is work to be done~” Yeosang hummed, you and your ‘companion’ bowing respectfully and nodding before turning on your respective heels.

San pulled his hood back over his head and glanced at you with a smug grin that you happily mirrored, both of you making a run for it out of the throne room.

After all, it was only a matter of time and of who created the most perfect illusion, aware that only one of you would come out on top.

----- Taglist (tell me if you wanna be added):

@atinykitty @cometoceantrenches @ddeonghwva @galaxteez @latte-fairytaekwoon @little-precious-baby @multidreams-and-desires @nightqueennyx @twancingyunhoe @vocalyunho @yunhoiseyecandy

Network tag:

@8makes1teamnet

#8makes1teamnet #ateez royal au #royal au #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #san smut #ateez san smut #me coming out of my figurative writing cave with this: hi did u miss me #hanatiny writes

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jjkpls · 3 years

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the wishlist (m) - 4

“What does it mean if a guy talks about your nipples?”

> genre : smut, fluff

> pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (f)

> total words : 4.7k

> content/warnings : back at it again w/ the bff2l; one sided love, lot of pining; sextoys talk; explicit language; ambiguous infidelity ; awkwardness

previous - next

The issue is that Jungkook -and you're not a bitch for thinking that- is a little bit of an idiot.

He can be very smart. He can be wise and present unsuspecting resources and knowledge. He can teach you things you don't know anything about, figure out others you struggle to -but not during stressful times like for say an escape game because during those, he turns absolutely, utterly useless.

But he is an idiot too. An idiot that sometimes shapes situations and conclusions and ideas in a very peculiar way that is very singular to him.

That’s precisely what happens then. He plays his role right, to its full extent, with great dedication and commitment. Except he missed a memo, misread the script and ends up playing a role that's not the one you planned for him. He believes that he’s your new adult toy provider (as if there is such a thing).

When you think he’s coming over to share a meal or play some game or binge-watch a series you promised to wait for him to experience together, he has a box hidden in his pocket or carried under his arm.

He has the decency to not comment on it the first time around. He just set it down on the coffee table, between the bowl of chips and the one filled with guacamole. You see the logo on top of it. You recognize the design, reffined, minimalist with the pretty pastel matte colour.

He probably identifies the shame and the annoyance on your face, painting your cheeks and reshaping your eyebrows, and doesn’t say anything. Simply smiles to himself and starts talking about the series’ new episode that’s about to start.

It takes a lot of efforts, coming from you, to ignore the conspicuous object sitting just in front and in between you. But eventually, probably because more than a decade of friendship with this guy have grown impressive mind muscles on you, you manage to make abstraction of it.

It just stops existing for a while until he leaves and you’re curious to see what’s inside. And again you have the same old intentions as before. The same ones.

You won’t use it.

It’s curiosity. And it's fine for you to be curious because he’s the one buying it and gifting it to you. Why should you be blamed?

Freshly hopped in bed, just done reading the notice hanging over your face, you’re yawning and sending your eyebrows high in interest. Again you won’t use it but it sounds very interesting. That’s when you get a text from him.

Guk

So about the toy!

As if you were waiting for his explanation. As if the conversation got cut short and you were expecting him to pick it back up whenever possible.

You won’t entertain him.

You

I said not to buy me this.

Guk

You never said that! You said something about me being crazy but never about buying one again

Because you're mostly made of petty bitch material, you scroll higher quickly, wishing to find something, any text that would corroborate what you’re saying.

You don’t find anything though. Because you never actually told him to not buy you other toys by text, and now that you come to think of it, you probably never did out loud either because you didn’t fucking know that he would even consider doing so.

It’s not even Christmas anymore. It’s not your birthday. There’s even less of a valid reason for him to get you this therefore, of course, you did not explicitly warn him not to, you didn’t think it would be necessary.

You

It’s not even my fucking bday why???

Guk

I told you the lady at the shop

But who the hell is that lady?

Guk

She talked about a lot of products and they all seemed cool and because you liked the other one I thought I’d get you this one too

You

Jungkook

This simple response says a lot, you hope he can read between the pixels of his screen the desperation, the irritation, the frustration, the silent insults.

Guk

Listen it’s super cool it's supposed to mimic the touch of a finger

Jungkook then proceeds to explain to you how it works. The original idea being a system with a tiny ball rolling under a silicon skin, to place on your clitoris to have the illusion of a finger's touch. And it’s interesting and innovative surely and sounds intriguing as in, you wonder if it’s accurate, but you’re tired and it seems like you’re wading in some sort of swamp you can’t escape from. There’s a fire burning your skin from your cheeks to your chest. You’re both hating this conversation and unwilling to just draw a final period to it. This asshole.

You

I can read

Guk

So you opened it already??

There’s a bunch of excited emojis that follows his last message and fill up the empty space your lack of response leaves.

Why and how can he be so eager?

Here comes the delusional part of your brain. It’s a very wide, very deep hallway covered in bookshelves filled to the brim with stupid interpretations and beliefs and sometimes even memories you’ve shared with him. Often next to the laters are pinned an article from a teenage magazine or the jacket of a romance movie, specifically there to validate that yes, indeed, it must have meant something.

The door of that corridor just creaked opened. You can discern the sound, you can feel the particular atmosphere without even having to take a step through.

Is it really that normal to be so excited about that? For him? As a friend?

It’s the most frustrating part: you are friends. Friends who supposedly can tell each other everything. Friends who can ask each other anything.

You should be able to talk about it. Just ask him. If there’s anything behind this whole mess, if he means to tell you something, if it’s wholly mindless, if there’s no hidden agenda.

It should be fine. There’s only trust and affection in this friendship.

You are still too scared, you are terrified that he’d start linking dots, ask himself some new questions, potentially answer them himself, and have you all found out.

You'd have your barely well-worn cover thrown completely away.

You send the blank emoji. The one with even the eyes closed. It summarizes your actual state pretty well, speechless, relatively annoyed.

Guk

She said you could try it on other parts of your body too

Guk

At first

Guk

Like on your lips or your nipples

You want to die.

Now.

No, better, you wish to have never been born.

Why is he talking about your nipples? Why?

And through all that, you still feel like something is wrong with you, along with your feelings.

Turns out you are so overwhelmed by his clueless inadequacy, you need a good half an hour and a random shot of tequila to get through it. When it’s gone and exhaustion of a long day and alcohol have knocked nervousness and panic out, you fall asleep, forgetting about answering his outrageous last texts.

“What does it mean if a guy talks about your nipples?”

Min's finger stops midair, above the cash register she's been working on. She needs a good minute to get back to her senses and while you wait, anxiety invades you. Maybe you should never have brought it up.

But this question, the torturous thing is slowly killing you.

Min finally turns her head to you, eyes squinted and eyebrows drawn low. She sucks in her pretty red lips before opening them to start formulating, with it seems a certain struggle, an answer.

“I don’t think I quite understand.”

It’s a pretty straightforward, relatively easy question. That’s what you'd want to say but you’ve reached the state of bashful regret and decide not to press it. Some things are better just left alone.

“Who talked about your nipples?” She ends up asking the one thing you wished she wouldn’t because there is no way you’re giving his name.

“Doesn’t matter.” You mumble, turning around slightly, getting back to the task you were here, paid, to do -wipe the shelves clean and not talk about your “““love””” life.��

“I think it does. You wanna know if it means something? Like the guy's into you?”

“Something like that.” Your cheeks are aflame now. No doubt about it. You silently curse at your manager who refuses that you don’t wear the ugly hat that holds your hair back because having a curtain of hair to hold behind, as a help to keep some of your remained, sparse dignity would have been peachy.

“What did he say exactly?”

Silence. You’re not elaborating. She sighs, defeated.

“Well, I suppose... he’s considered the fact that you have boobs. If it’s a straight guy, that’s a good sign, I guess?” She shrugs.

You don’t like the answer. It’s exactly what the wrong, defective part of your brain, the one directly wired to your heart, wanted to hear.

She doesn’t even have the context, anyway. It doesn’t mean much, doesn’t hold much power in your court of sensibility.

She stares at the side of your face, clearly attempting to drill holes in your head to try and find some answers. You’re awfully silent, have said too much yet not enough and she’s dying to know the whole story. You won’t give in and she can tell. There’s no way you’re sharing the whole thing. The most, probably, probative point of the whole story: the sex toys. It’d turn her into a devastating tsunami of nonsense and misinterpretation and drown you in its wake and you can’t, when you’re already struggling to stay afloat, allow that.

Tag list: @fangirls94 @realswimshaddy @safi4x @pnkd @somewhereinthestarss @kpopfandomftw @kai-kai-bookshelf @pasteljoonie @ggukkieland

A/N: Don’t forget to click on the next button on top, two parts are being posted simultaneously :)

#btswriterscollective #networkbangtan #ggukienet #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #my writing

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appleflavoredkitkats · 3 years

Text

Who Are the Four Horsemen of the Dream SMP Apocalypse?

Art by: Viktor Vasnetsov

[TW’s: torture, death, murder, manipulation, alcohol, substance abuse, discussions about the end of the world, religion, starvation, violence, implied gambling, blood, alcoholism]

Word Count: 3.5k

INTRODUCTION

Hopefully I finish this before I feel too sleep-deprived, but I’ve been thinking about the presence of horsemen in Quackity’s “My Enemies” stream. These mysterious, hooded figures are quite odd to say the least, and their involvement with Las Nevadas still remains unknown. There has been a debate on whether there were three horsemen or four, and in my opinion, I believe that there are four horsemen present.

Why four? In the first scene, three horsemen arrive at the Dream SMP on a dark and stormy night. They seem to have come from the south, entering Eret’s castle from the back. As they stop to pull their Netherite swords out, air raid sirens are heard from the distance.

Similarly, in the last scene, Quackity is seen placing a book in Wilbur’s memorial before leaving, riding his skeleton horse, Ossium. The scene cuts from first person POV to third, and we see a hooded figure, presumably Quackity because of how both came from the same direction. Additionally, air raid sirens are also heard from a distance.

[MORE UNDER THE CUT!]

I theorize that these two scenes take place at the same time. The prequel scenes only began after we see the sequence of Quackity torturing Dream, and it ends after the flashbacks of Wilbur. We can synthesize that both these scenes are set at the same time, and that these horsemen are going to meet at a certain point on the prime path.

What may suggest that these four horsemen are supposed to be parallels to the biblical four horsemen?

Firstly, seeing the bits they do, Quackity and Schlatt do know a lot of biblical references. Schlatt has compared Tubbo to Jesus once, and Quackity has said many prayers as jokes in the Dream SMP. It’s just… easy to take inspiration from biblical symbols and references, and also, the four horsemen are just very popular figures in history, so you know, why not?

Also, this may also sound RIDICULOUS, but the fact that this stream establishes that Tommy got resurrected three days after he got killed is actually very reminiscent of, well, you guessed it, Jesus Christ. 72 hours is oddly specific, and I don’t think the cc’s made it that way for no reason. Tommy’s parallels to Jesus—which is a VERY funny phrase—could imply that the Dream SMP might draw more parallels to Christianity, and the four horsemen could be another one of these references.

Also, Quackity mentioned how in Las Nevadas, he made four casinos for him and the rest of El Rapids. So, we know four is a number we can associate with Las Nevadas, and there’s a chance Quackity gave these casinos to three other people. Four casinos, four horsemen.

What is the purpose of the four horsemen in the Dream SMP? When the air raid sirens went off, we can think of these four horsemen as the bringer of chaos or danger into the Dream SMP, very reminiscent of the purpose of the original four horsemen in Christianity. We can also connect it to the end of the world, as these four only appear when the world begins to end. This can imply that these four, who are most likely allies of Quackity in Las Nevadas, are somewhat connected to how the Dream SMP will end.

Now, who is who? Admittedly, it is difficult to find a definitive answer on which member represents what horseman, so I’ll try my best considering all the possibilities for each. I’ll add my own ranks on how probable I think they are, but I have to specify that these are subjective- I am not a beacon of truth, y’all.

So let’s get started.

Firstly, I want to discuss who might NOT be a horseman to narrow it down a bit:

Any minors might not be involved. In Sam’s face reveal stream, aka the first stream mentioning Las Nevadas, Quackity and Sam agree they don’t want Tubbo and Tommy to participate in underage gambling. Don’t know if this applies to Ranboo and Fundy (since he might be canonically a child? Who knows), so they get more of a pass, but the clingy duo might not.

The Syndicate. I’d like to think that the Syndicate, as well as Dream, are Quackity’s main foils of the server. As they are the richest and also the most skilled in PVP, Quackity stands no chance against them even with his sharp tongue. As these people are foils against Quackity, and also probably hate his guts, Quackity might not hire them at Las Nevadas. I theorize he’d probably use Dream as a watchdog against the Syndicate, but that’s a theory for another time.

Additional point about Dream: he’s in prison.

Anyone from Kinoko Kingdom because it’s clear Quackity severed all ties with them.

The Eggpire is half-half. They can possibly join, but also can’t, Quackity can manipulate them into joining only for their inevitable demise, or Quackity wouldn’t wanna associate with them after the explosion incident. They’ll at least get a few passes in some categories, but again, not entirely sure.

CONQUEST

Also known as Plague, Pestilence, and in some occasions, both Jesus Christ and the Antichrist, Conquest is shown to be riding on a white horse, donning a victor’s crown and a bow. There are many interpretations of Conquest, especially with their ambiguous morality. Some people can perceive them as bad, representing the origin of many wars. Some people claim that they represent pestilence and plague as their arrows are slathered with the infections they want to spread. In some cases, they can also be interpreted as good, as their description is heavily reminiscent of Jesus Christ himself. Others would rebut that there is also a possibility that they might be a fake replica of Jesus created by Satan, thus making them the antichrist.

Sam (8/10)

Sam is my first choice when it comes to Conquest because, firstly, he fits the appearance. He is one of the only people in the Dream SMP who dons a crown, and they also possess a bow which they frequently use. I’d say that Sam as Conquest matches with his ambitions as a member of the Badlands, Pestilence or Plague match with his possible crimson infection, and Antichrist matches with his inability to keep Tommy, the possible Jesus figure on the SMP, alive or safe.

My only issue is: would Sam be one of the three who arrived at the Dream SMP in the beginning? Sam is very strict with his job as warden, so it is unlikely that he would be seen far from it.

Any of the Eggpire (7/10)

As Conquest is heavily depicted with pestilence or plague, any of the Eggpire may fit under this category. As their goal as the Eggpire is meant to conquer the Dream SMP, this also matches with the goal of Conquest. Additionally, one of the Egg’s weaknesses is Church Prime, something heavily resembling Christianity, so if the Egg is its opposite, we can view the Egg as somewhat of an antichrist.

I say Punz, Bad, Ponk, and Hannah have a higher chance of being Conquest, while Ant is a solid ‘maybe’. Punz could’ve been the one who blew up the Egg, Bad can be easily persuaded by Quackity, Ponk is one of the only capitalists of the server that may participate in Las Nevadas, and Hannah’s character heavily fits the theme of pestilence when it comes to nature. Additionally, I like to believe that Conquest was the horseman on the skeleton horse (that isn’t Quackity’s), especially since they were holding a dandelion in one shot, something that could be attributed to “pestilence” because a dandelion is a weed. This may imply that Hannah could be part, but because they haven’t interacted much beforehand, we wouldn’t be sure. More insight on Punz: he once mentioned he upholds his duties as mercenary more than he might love the Egg, so there’s a chance Quackity bribed him to join Las Nevadas.

The main con to this is that: why would the Eggpire willingly join Quackity, or why would the Egg allow them to join Quackity? I can see that Quackity might break their brainwashed states because he has a good way with words, but people like Bad, Ant, and Punz have stated that they’ve been fully controlled by the Egg. Also, Quackity makes it clear he wants to eradicate his enemies, so he might not want any members of the Eggpire to join Las Nevadas… unless there’s a traitor?

Schlatt, Mexican Dream, or Wilbur (6/10)

Heavily connected with winning if you take Manberg, Mexican L’Manberg, or L’Manberg into mind.

Wilbur also has a memorable crossbow, but I don’t know if that counts as a bow.

Any dead characters have a high chance of joining Las Nevadas because of its possible connections to death and the revival system of the SMP.

Other possibilities with short explanations and low but possible odds:

Eret: Has a crown, his betrayal can be seen as a “win”, has Tommy’s bow from the duel. Can be seen as an antichrist figure.

Jack: As he is against Tommy, he can be seen as an antichrist figure. Might be working with Las Nevadas because of his deal with Quackity.

Ranboo: He’s a minor, but he also has a crown and a bow so, maybe? He’s not much of a conqueror or winner, though.

Connor: Didn’t really conquer much, didn’t really win much, he’s just here because of Schlatt, honestly.

WAR

War is depicted to be holding a raised sword as they ride atop a red horse. After conquest, war is expected to follow, and War is tasked to break any type of peace on earth. He is tasked to kill, or make humans kill each other. The prominence of red symbolizes bloodshed or immense anger, something very present in war. Multiple depictions of War show him with his sword raised upwards, signifying the start of a battle.

Schlatt (9/10)

The man’s literally torn the Dream SMP apart (/lh). This man is always keen on fulfilling his goals, and if it means he’ll have to fulfill them in the most twisted of ways, he will do it. Him winning the Election brought immense conflict in the Dream SMP, and many people were torn apart on which side was the right or wrong side. One of Schlatt’s prominent colors besides blue would be red, as it is the color of his tie and the color of his ghost form’s horns. Red could represent the bloodshed of those who died during the Manberg-Pogtopia conflict, or red can signify the anger Schlatt had for his own cabinet.

Schlatt was also gifted a sword by Dream called “Shclatt”. The sword only holds heavy significance because of how Fundy treasured it like an heirloom.

Wilbur (8/10)

Another good possibility too as Ghostbur was recently seen to admire red a lot more than blue in one of Tommy’s streams. We can also view the creation of L’Manberg as a place that broke the peace in the Dream SMP as they didn’t really NEED to create L’Manberg and declare war, yet, he did. Red can also resemble his anger for what has been done to L’Manberg- everything is pretty self-explanatory, honestly.

My only qualm with Wilbur being one of the horsemen is how we can’t really… tell if he’s in the Dream SMP? He seems to be very clear on the fact that he does NOT want to return, so he might not even be there when the four horsemen became a thing.

Any of the Eggpire (7/10)

Honestly? Same reasoning as the first explanation for the Eggpire. This also applies for why they might not be one of the horsemen.

Do I even need to explain the red part, or do we just all understand that red is literally their brand.

The Eggpire practically breaks peace in the server and is keen on taking control of the entirety of the Dream SMP. The Egg is shown to be ruthless towards anyone, and will even let some of its followers kill people if needed.

I see Bad as someone who might qualify for this position more because he initiates a lot of the activity in the Eggpire. Same goes for Ant, Punz, and Ponk, but they don’t really take initiative most of the time.

Jack Manifold (4/10)

The only reason I kind of added him here was that he wanted to kill Tommy, but Jack isn’t entirely selfish or peace-breaking. I do think he might play a role in Las Nevadas, especially since if Quackity has access to the nukes, only Jack and Ranboo might be the only two who helped him gain access.

Jack is also… very angry at Tommy. Rightfully so, because he basically surrounded a good portion of his life trying to kill Tommy only for him to realize that that might not be his purpose in life. He blames Tommy for a lot of the loss in the server, so he has a lot of anger, but he has no one to vent it all out to.

Other possibilities with short explanations and low but possible odds:

Eret: Did the first betrayal, but that’s about it. He’s also participated in several wars against others who disagreed with him being the king.

Ranboo: Participated in wars, but is a peacemaker so, y’know.

Fundy: While he does possess Schlatt’s sword, he isn’t much of an initiator of wars as much as he is merely a follower. He has shown that he is quite angry at those who have used him, but the anger has dissipated lately into some sort of sadness/denial.

Connor: He’s mournful that Schlatt, a close friend, has died, but he isn’t really one to be angry. He tried living far away to make his own independent nation, but it didn’t impact much of the story. He also one possessed “Ghostbur’s Stabbing Knife”, which could represent the sword.

FAMINE

Famine is seen to be holding a scale (presumably for food) as they ride atop a horse. Famine is also denoted to be the only one speaking, saying “A quart of wheat for a denarius! And three quarts of barley for a denarius! But don’t ruin the oil and the wine!”. This statement basically means that we have to pay a full day’s worth of earnings for a bit of wheat and barley but oil and the wine, something not considered human necessities, can have the same prices. This shows an unfairness when it comes to acquiring basic human necessities. This is especially damaging to the poor as Famine’s statement can possibly make the poor poorer, while the rich remain the same. It is implied that the wider the gap between the poor and the rich, the closer we are to the end of the world.

Fundy (9/10)

This may be a long answer because I am biased towards Fundy, but Niki once stated that Manberg was in some sort of a famine because of the destruction of farms. Because of this, certain citizens have resorted into eating spider eyes from the EXP farm, but it was notable that she was practically calling out Fundy, someone who literally advertised spider eyes to any person he talked to in the Dream SMP.

Fundy is also hinted to be heavily connected to these hooded figures somehow. In his dream, he was chased by one until he slept in a black bed, the color of Famine.

Additionally, in his dream, he held baked potatoes (food) which could be related…? He’s also a libra so… scales…?

He is also a notorious prankster in the Dream SMP and will bargain for anything as long as he profits from it. He’s not the richest by any means, but he loves doing pranks that involve stealing belongings from other people.

Schlatt (8/10)

Similar reason to Fundy as he was the president of Manberg responsible for these famines. Additional note for this is that he also taxed Niki, one of their only food sources in Manberg.

Schlatt also likes to joke around about being rich, earning money, or being a businessman often, especially with the entire Schlatt coin joke. Connected to Famine’s trait of making the rich richer, possibly?

Famine’s statement can also apply here as it is implied that if humanity doesn’t possess the basic of necessities, they might at least have wine which won’t provide any solutions to humanity’s starvation at all, but it will distract you from your starvation by making you heavily drunk until you finally die. This is very reminiscent of how Schlatt died.

Sam (6/10)

Sam is one of the richest people on the server, matching Famine’s want to keep the rich rich. Only problem here is that Sam is at least very generous and provides a lot of people with resources when needed.

Sam could possibly be connected to Famine because of how he treats Dream in prison. In an attempt to torture Dream, he starves him, cutting his food supply.

Same problem remains with Sam not being able to join whatever the hell the four horsemen are because of his duties as warden.

Any of the Syndicate (1/10)

Only giving an exception here because the Syndicate is exceptionally rich and is more selfish about it than others. Low chances, but Ranboo… might? But it’s still a bit iffy for me. Niki might as well because of her connections to the Manbergian famine, but still on the fence with this one too.

DEATH

Death is often depicted riding a pale horse, but some variations have called the horse light green. Death does not don a weapon themselves, but they are always accompanied by Hades. Hades in Christianity is the place or state of the departed spirits, meaning Death has contact with those who have died. Sometimes, Death is depicted with a scythe similar to the Grim Reaper, but some say Death has no weapon at all as Death themself is the weapon. Death is not only meant to collect souls and end lives, but they can also represent the end of an era of humanity.

Quackity (10/10)

I would say Quackity can fit any other category, but I am so sure that Quackity is death because of how death and toying with death seems to be one of Quackity’s main themes in the Dream SMP. Quackity, once hesitant about killing others, has been shown to now impulsively want to kill others: first with Techno, then Ranboo, then Dream.

Quackity will also most likely acquire information about revival on the Dream SMP, so he is in close proximity with Hades, or in the Dream SMP, the Void. This also heavily ties in with the idea that he will make others gamble away their canon lives only for him to resurrect or return their canon lives if they ever successfully gamble it back.

Quackity is also known to be very powerless in terms of PVP and battle, but you know what he succeeds in? His own words. He is his own weapon that can get him whatever he wants as long as the person he’s up against is in a vulnerable position.

He is also confirmed to be one to have a skeleton horse, and some depictions of Death’s horse show that it is very corpse-like.

A bloody scythe can also be seen in Quackity’s first lore teaser, and that can be attributed to Death.

Other possibilities with short explanations and low but possible odds:

Schlatt: First owned the revival book but he literally does not know its contents. Fits the “they are their own weapon” trait.

Dream: The only exception I can give. But again, he is literally in prison…?

Wilbur & Mexican Dream: Only putting these two here because they have experienced death. These two fit the “they are their own weapon” category too.

Connor: Wants to revive Schlatt, but that’s it.

CONCLUSION

Honestly, my first conclusion for the four horsemen were Sam/Conquest, Schlatt/War, Fundy/Famine, and Quackity/Death, but I only see Quackity as Death to be something that is HIGHLY possible. For Conquest, I shift between Sam and one of the Eggpire, for War, I shift between Wilbur and Schlatt, and for Famine, I shift between Fundy and Schlatt. Again, no definitive answer, but I’d love to hear your own thoughts on this.

I am very tired, but also remember to reblog if you do enjoy this! Again, would love to hear your own insights, and would appreciate any type of discussion! :D

#dream smp #dream smp analysis #mcyt #quackity #fundy #wilbur soot #jschlatt #connoreatspants #badboyhalo #long post

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ahkaahshi · 4 years

Text

reconnect [miya osamu x reader]

pairing: miya osamu x fem reader

genre: smut (18+), fluff

warning(s): explicit sexual content, penetrative sex, talk that’s not even that dirty???, cursing

word count: 2.4k

overview: busy work schedules have put distance between the two of you, but all it takes is one evening to bring you back together.

notes: can I just say... phew. writing ‘samu smut just hits different sometimes. I was kinda in a mood since he had me actin’ up.

Though it’s been at least twenty minutes since you’ve left the club, your ears are still ringing as you stick your house key in the door and twist it. After a long night of dancing and keeping your friends from downing the one drink that would’ve done them in for the evening, there’s nothing you want to do more than kick off your painful heels and take a shower. You can feel your thighs chafing from the sweat with each step you take and the lingering smell of alcohol is a sure sign that someone spilled their drink on you.

With a long sigh, you step into your apartment, hang your keys up on a wall hook, and instantly set yourself to loosening the straps holding your shoes against your skin. Your feet pound with anger and indignation when you place them down on the wooden floor and walk to your bedroom--as if scolding you for wearing those torture devices the entire night.

Upon entering your room, you notice your boyfriend’s not in bed, as you suspected he would be at such a late hour. It was past midnight, and you’re aware he had a long day at work, since he hadn’t been back before you’d left earlier in the evening. Over the persistent ringing in your ears, you can hear the sound of running water in the bathroom, and your eyes flick over to the pool of light beneath the door.

“’Samu?” you call with a knock, “I’m back!”

Less than a few moments later, the door swings open to reveal the man in question. He must’ve just gotten into the bathroom himself since he's in a state of undress, with his shirt flung haphazardly over the towel rack and the tie holding up his sweatpants coming undone. Since neither of you have seen much of each other all day--let alone all week--a short period of time ensues in which you both take a moment to let your eyes wander over each other’s forms.

As your gaze traces the muscles in his exposed torso, chest, and arms, his glides along your clubbing outfit--taking note of the way your skirt hugs your figure and how the silky fabric of your tank top cascades over the curves of your chest ever so sensually. The sensation of warmth on your hand as his fingers curl around it brings your attention up to his face just in time for his lips to meet yours in a gentle, greeting kiss.

“I haven’t seen ya all day, but, damn, if I’d seen ya leavin’ in that outfit I probably wouldn’t’ve wanted ya ta go,” he comments, his ash-colored eyes meeting with yours once more before his eyelids close once more as he delivers another soft kiss to your lips.

You hum with contentment against his mouth and ask, “Were you going in the shower?”

He nods. “Wanna come in with me? Tell me ‘bout yer day; ya look exhausted, babe.”

“Yeah,” you answer, “and I could say the same about you, honey.”

After closing the door behind you and giving your feet a moment to soak up the coolness radiating from the tiled floor, you start fiddling with the zipper of your skirt so you can tug it off. However, Osamu’s hands are on your waist, helping you slide the stretchy material off your hips and down your legs. Though you don’t necessarily need the help getting undressed, his touch relaxes you in a way that few things can. It also sends tingles skittering up your spine when he hooks a finger in the waistband of your lace thong and drags it down before ridding you of your top and bra.

With a tenderness he’s only ever displayed towards you, he brings his lips to the crown of your head. Once he’s stripped off the rest of his clothing, he follows you over to the shower head so you can both wash off the remnants of your busy evenings. You ask him to go first in the conversation about your days, so, as he speaks, you mindlessly take to running your fingers through wet clumps of his dark hair and pressing them against his scalp gently in an attempt to massage away the tension you can see he’s feeling.

Likewise, while you recount your rather eventful experience as this evening’s designated driver for your friend group, he drags a soapy loofah over your skin, leaving a trail of suds in its path that he rubs in with his other hand. “I feel like I haven’t seen ya all week, y’know,” he sighs. You nod in agreement, releasing a small sound of contentment as his hands latch onto your waist to pull your back against his abdomen.

However, there’s a very prominent hardness you can feel against your body when he does so, and the water feels hotter than before, all of a sudden. “I’ve missed ya,” he continues and gives you earlobe a playful nip that makes you giggle.

“I know; I can tell,” you murmur, sending a downwards glance at the boner you can feel pressing against you.

He sighs, “Fuckin’ hell. I’m jus’ tryna be romantic, (f/n).”

“Oh, come on, ‘Samu,” you simper with a small chuckle at his anguish and turn around so you’re facing him instead, “We both know every romantic thing we do together always ends with us having sex anyway, so why don't you just say you wanna do it?”

The coy smile you’re wearing starts a fire in his belly, and he knows that once he puts the loofah down, his hands won’t leave your body until you’re reduced to a moaning mess under his touch. He also knows that you’re aware of what your attitude is doing to him, and it turns him on, but forms a desire within him to show you that you’re not the only one in control. So, he lowers his face towards yours as if he’s going to kiss you, but pauses moments before your lips meet.

“Fine,” he concedes, his dark eyes watching rogue droplets of water trail down your neck, “I’ll say it.”

“That you wanna fuck me right here, in the shower?” you goad and take the loofah out of his hands to hang it back up on wall.

He chuckles and replies, “No. That I wanna make love to ya right here, in the shower.” Your heart flutters in his chest at his words, but a small squeak escapes your lips when one of his hands moves down to your rear to give it a firm squeeze. “So that means I wanna hear all those pretty sounds ya make when yer feelin’ good, okay, baby?”

Although his voice is low when he speaks, there’s an air of softness to his tone that draws you closer to him and elicits a nod from you. Now, his lips are dangerously close to yours and your core is throbbing painfully at the fantasies racing through your mind. As soon as your hands come to rest on his shoulders, you feel this craving to have more of him. To have more of his skin pressed against yours, to have all of his attention on you, and to have him inside of you. The little distance separating you feels like miles to you.

You slide your hand up to his face, tracing the shape of his jawbone before bringing him closer to you so you can finally bridge the gap between his lips and yours. His kisses send warmth straight between your legs with how slow and sensual they are, as usual. It seems that his lips remain on yours for an eternity before they part, and his tongue drags along yours with absolutely no rush while your mouths are connected.

After adjusting his erection so it isn’t poking you, he pulls your body flush against his with a squelch and guides you beneath the shower head to wash off all the soap he’d so dutifully applied earlier. The water you feel cascading over your skin ramps up your desire tenfold, making you tighten your grasp around him. A small gasp falls from your lips between heated kisses when he presses your back against the cold tile of the wall and allows his hand to glide over your drenched skin as he moves it where you're craving him the most.

You moan softly at the sensation of his finger trailing along your slit, collecting the juices already forming at your entrance so he can run his fingertips along your clit without hurting you. He swallows anymore sounds of pleasure that leave your mouth with his own while he works on the bundle of nerves, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Noticing how breathless you’re getting, he decides to give your lips a break and latch onto your neck instead, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses along your skin before taking it between his teeth gently.

“Osamu...” you whimper, closing your eyes and letting your head come to rest against the wall behind you.

His warm breath fans across your collarbone, tickling your skin, as he asks, “Yeah, baby?” He loves the way you’re responding to his words and his touch, taking note of every wiggle of your hips to chase your high or every inhale that hitches in your throat. His hand firmly gripping your waist keeps you supported, since his actions are quickly weakening your knees.

With another soft moan, you reply, “I want more of you.”

He answers your request by slowly inching two of his fingers inside of you, feeling satisfied by the way your pussy clenches around them greedily. Because of how needy you are, he’s quick to task his thumb with rubbing against your bud once more. This draws more mewls from between your lips, and he can hardly contain himself at the clear pleasure you’re deriving from him, and him only. Knowing that nobody else can make you feel the way he does eggs him on, and he's soon pushing you closer to your orgasm as he curls his fingers inside of you.

Just before you can feel that familiar wave of ecstasy crash over you, he withdraws and utters a gentle command in your ear. “Put yer leg up on that shelf so I can give ya whatcha want.”

You comply without any hesitation, causing a smile to spread across his mouth before he presses it to yours once more. Staying true to his previously stated desires, he removes his lips from yours as he places the tip of his erection against your entrance just so he can hear more delicious sounds pour out of your mouth the entire time it takes him to push himself inside of you. He groans softly against your neck, placing a bite there that you’re sure will bruise as he stretches your walls and fills you up.

“Fuck,” he curses breathlessly, “ya feel amazin’, love.”

He kisses you again while he gives you a few moments to adjust to his size before you urge him to start moving. Slowly, he thrusts into you with long, but gentle strokes as he lowers his head so he can take one of your nipples in his mouth. You instinctively arch your back, pressing your chest against his face in a silent display of appreciation, and he slides his hands along your spine.

“’Samu, baby, please,” you whine, “Harder.”

He thrusts into you more deeply than before, making you gasp. “Does that feel good?” he asks when he snaps his hips against yours once more, using his hands to bring yours down against his with more force

“Mm!”

“Lemme hear how good I'm makin’ ya feel, then.”

The increasing volume of the sounds of pleasure rolling off your tongue in combination with your nails digging into his back as you beg for more spurs him to pick up the pace. Soon, he’s holding you as close to him as he can while he slams his cock into your core at a maddening speed. He’s been wanting this all week, so it’s no wonder he can’t hold himself back anymore. Especially not with the lewd noises that are spilling out of your mouth, urging him to satisfy you.

His heavy breaths spill over the crook of your neck as he pins you against the wall and snakes a hand between your bodies to toy with your sensitive clit once more. “’Samu, I--ah--I’m gonna cum,” you whisper.

“Do it, then, pretty baby. Lemme hear ya.”

Moments after those words leave his mouth, he feels your body shudder in his grasp as you release loud cries of his name. Your hips thrash against his fingers as he continues pumping his dick in and out of you, feeling his own climax approaching with the way your pussy squeezes him so lovingly. As you ride out your orgasm while uttering your praises to him, Osamu finds himself becoming overwhelmed by all the sensations he’s feeling, and a few more thrusts see him finishing as well.

Another moan echoes from your throat at feeling the warmth of his release inside of you, and a few more moments pass before you’re both still as you come down from your highs. “God,” he breathes, his eyelids fluttering open so his eyes can gaze into yours, “ya always feel so damn good, (f/n).”

Your cheeks burn at the unexpected compliment, and you press your lips against his in an appreciative kiss. “And so do you, ‘Samu.”

Once he pulls out of you, he wraps his arms around you tightly, bringing your body flush against his. “I know we haven’t seen much of each other this week, so I don’t feel like I've gotten the chance ta tell ya this enough, but I love ya, babe. More than anything else,” he mumbles, his lips grazing the side of your head.

You breathe out a sigh of contentment and nuzzle your face in his shoulder as you respond, “I love you too.” Your chests rise and fall in unison for a few, peaceful minutes while you hold one another close, as if to make up for all the contact you’d missed because of your busy weeks. A considerable amount of time passes before you speak again and withdraw from his embrace. “Let’s get washed off so we can go to bed, hmm?”

He nods in agreement, but mentions, “No guarantees we’re gonna be headin’ straight ta bed with the way yer lookin’, though.”

You smack his arm lightly and roll your eyes at him as you pick up the loofah so you can set yourself to cleaning off his chest. However, you do secretly hope that your body’s able to keep its exhaustion at bay long enough to go another round once you get out of the shower.

masterlist

#fran writes hq!!#ahkaahshi gets wild #haikyuu!!#miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #x reader #reader insert #haikyuu #hq!!#anime #manga #smut #osamu x reader

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folkloreguk · 5 years

Text

[08:00 pm] (m)

A/N: Yes this has a time stamp as name bc I couldn’t think of one rip…anyway I’m back with something after like two months and I hope you like it! x

words: 2.8k

genre: smut (optional bias male x female reader), light bondage, dom!bias, aftercare bc no one ever writes about it ://

[masterlist in description]

It had been two weeks since you had talked about wanting to try this. Two times you had let him practice, and today was another of those days. Of course, you enjoyed it, but it was the most difficult thing when it came to maintaining your patience. That’s why you knew he loved it. A small sigh came from you, when his hand accidentally brushed your nipple.

“I’ve barely started, you know?” he teased you. Oh, how he loved to tease you. It only made you squirm more in his touch. You were standing in front of him, completely bare. He was sat on the edge of the bed, tying a rope around your body. There were so many knots and ways he had found to use your new toy, and he was adamant on trying them all. On you. Sometimes you could distract yourself for a few minutes, by looking out the window or thinking of something that wasn’t him. But in the end, you were feeling his hands on you, without him really touching you, and it drove you to insanity.

“Turn around, my love,” he ordered, softly touching your hips. You did as he said. There was a rope bound around your upper body, and you felt him get up. Your back felt a little ticklish when he tied a knot there. Goosebumps rose on your skin when his hot breath fanned over your neck.

“You’re gonna look so pretty, when this is done, aren’t you?” he asked. You bit your lip in anticipation and nodded.

“And what are you going to do when it’s done?” you asked back. He motioned for you to turn back around. Knowing you were getting less patient, he only chuckled and smiled at you. He loved testing you. But you wouldn’t give in just yet. You weren’t going to beg him, not until you were completely desperate. Minutes went on, and you focused on the wall ahead of you, instead of him. But it was no use, either way. Even without looking at him, you were all too familiar with the way he looked when he was concentrating. The way he sometimes bit his lip when he was focusing on a task, or how he would clench his jaw if it wasn’t quite working the way he wanted it to.

You whimpered when his hand brushed past your center, tying the rope around your thigh. The cocky smile on his face only made you want him more.

“What do you want me to do when it’s done, baby girl?” he asked, a late response to your previous request. Instead of telling him what you wanted, you would’ve rather shown him. But you had made rules. Rule one: Keep your hands to yourself until he allows you to touch him. But you couldn’t keep still any longer.

Wanting to kiss him, your hands came to cup his face and you bent down a little. As your hands moved to the back of his neck to play with his hair and you wanted to connect your lips, he reached for your wrists. The look he gave you was a reminder that made you regret your actions.

“Getting touchy, are we?” He pushed your hands to your sides and you kept them there.

“I don’t like waiting for so long,” you complained. “Aren’t you getting impatient?”

Now, he was getting up. A little excitement sparked inside of you, but he only grabbed another piece of rope and turned you around again. Softly, he took both of your hands and moved them to your back, where he proceeded to tie them.

You couldn’t help but smile a little, because even though you wouldn’t be able to touch him now, there was something even more exciting about it. Softly, he kissed your neck, noticing your smile.

“You like it this way, don’t you?” he asked.

“Maybe,” you replied, grinning. Had he been stricter, he would have never let you tease him like that. But he loved you too much to punish you for every little thing. Instead, he liked to tease you back.

“Now that you look all pretty, there’s something you can do for me,” he said and you turned around to face him. You knew what he was talking about when he unzipped his pants. Voluntarily, you dropped to your knees, trying hard to ignore the wetness between your legs.

When he had undressed, he sat down on the edge of the bed. For a moment you looked up at him and saw him biting his lip at the sight of you.

“I love your lips,” he said, his finger touching your bottom lip for a moment. When you slightly opened your mouth, he placed two of his fingers on your tongue. On reflex, you closed your mouth around his digits and licked around them, sucking a little. You thought you saw a glimpse of weakness in his eyes when you looked up at him at the same time. Visibly, he swallowed, slowly removing his fingers from your mouth.

Instead, he then guided his member into your open mouth. The moment your warm lips had wrapped around him, he hissed. Slowly, you bobbed your head, running your tongue along the underside of his shaft. When you reached the top, you swirled your tongue around it, knowing he loved it. He groaned in agreement, leaning back and steadying himself on his arms. You watched him. His eyes were closed and his mouth hung open slightly. Swear words fell from his mouth, and you felt the sudden urge to kiss his neck when you saw the way his head bent backwards. When he opened his eyes for a moment, he spotted you looking up at him. He leaned forward, running his hands through your hair.

“Just like that, doll.” He pushed the hair out of your face, so he could watch you more closely.

Softly, he guided your movement, not forcing you too hard. He didn’t have to, because you willingly tried to take as much of him as you could. The tip of his cock touched the back of your throat, and he swore under his breath, his hands gripping your hair tightly. Your eyes watered a little bit, but you loved the way he sounded too much to stop. But just when you tasted pre-cum, he gently pushed you back.

“Come here,” he ordered. “Now that you’ve been good, I should reward you, don’t I?”

You nodded as you looked into his eyes, getting up. He watched you for a while, softly stroking your sides as you waited for him to tell you what to do.

“Sit,” he said, pulling you into his lap so you were facing him. With the way he stared into your eyes, you had the sudden desire to touch his face. But you were reminded that you couldn’t. Your hands were still tied tightly behind your back. Instead, you leaned in and kissed him. He reacted quickly, grabbing the back of your neck and luring you closer to him. You let him take control as his tongue roamed your lips and finally touched yours.

Your body melted into his touch as his hands left no bit untouched. A small whimper from you sounded against his lips when he brushed his fingers along the inside of your thighs. Instantly, you felt him smile into the kiss. When his hands wandered to your back, he grabbed fistfuls of your hair, gently pulling it. You gave in, letting your head hang back as he began placing open mouthed kisses against your neck and chest. Instinctively, your back arched against him. The air felt cold on your skin in the places he had kissed, and you couldn’t help but let out more moans.

“My baby makes the prettiest sounds,” he mumbled against your skin before he raised his head. His smile read admiration and his hands held you like you were made of glass. “Do you want me to touch you?”

He knew your answer, but nonetheless, he loved hearing it from you.

“Yes. Touch me please,” you breathed, barely spoke. His hands wandered closer to where you wanted him. With what you could barely call a touch, they ghosted over your center. Your breaths were short, and when he actually slid his digits along your slit, covering them in your wetness, you whimpered weakly.

“So wet, and I didn’t even touch you,” he said. You only replied with a small sound when he rolled your clit between his fingers, before drawing random figures onto your center.

You wanted nothing more than to wrap your arms around his neck, bury your head against his shoulder and quiet your whimpers against his skin. But he had one of his hands between your legs, while the other was holding your own hands on the small of your back, keeping you reminded of the rules.

He was making sure you didn’t get off too much, his touch simple and not too fast. Still, you writhed against his hand, wanting desperately to close your legs and get more friction.

“H/N,” you whined, even though you knew it would have no effect. His eyes were dark and stern when he looked into yours.

“If you hold still maybe I’ll let you come,” he spoke.

“It’s not that easy,” you said, your voice fading out into a whimper when he slid one of his fingers into you.

“I wanna see you try,” he challenged you, his lips dangerously close to yours. When you wanted to kiss him, he leaned back, not letting you have what you wanted again. In frustration, you groaned. His grip on your tied arms tightened and his fingers curled inside of you. He used his thumb to press against your clit harshly and you swore under your breath.

“Show me what a good girl looks like,” he said, his lips now inches from yours again. The more he kept up his sweet torture, the more desperate you became. You forced yourself to nod. Your entire focus was on trying not to move too much, while all your body wanted was to come all over his fingers right then.

“Can I come for you, please?” you asked, putting on your most innocent expression. Sometimes, when you asked nicely, he let you have what you wanted. But not today, apparently. He let go of your hands behind your back and cupped your chin. His lips were only inches from yours as he spoke.

“Do you think you get to break our rules and I’m just going to let you come so quickly?”

As fast as his fingers had moved inside of you, he removed his hand from your center. You whimpered in frustration, but you knew in the end it was your own fault. If only you hadn’t tried to touch him earlier.

“Come with me,” he kept whispering against your lips. For a moment you got up so he could climb to the headboard and lean against it. As he had ordered, you followed up.

“Sit in my lap, but turn around,” he said. Eager for any kind of touch and attention, you did so. You straddled him, your tied hands touching his lower stomach. Not being able to look at him wasn’t to your liking, but at the same time you had to admit, it had something exciting. He softly touched your neck, placing a soft kiss on the back of it. His hands then ran down your sides and moved to your thighs. You whimpered when his fingers slid between your dripping folds once again.

“Ride me, princess,” he whispered, his face right by your ear. He didn’t need to tell you twice. Humming, you nodded and looked back at him for a moment. His gaze was loving but simultaneously strict. You lifted your hips a little, so he could guide his member to your entrance.

“Slowly,” he said. You sank down on his length as he placed his hands on either side of your hips. He cussed as you took his whole length. Your eyes squeezed shut at the sensation you had waited for for so long. Instinctively, you lifted your hips again, but you remembered his rule before you could break it again. Just as slowly as you had done it at first, you moved up and down.

“Just like that, doll,” he praised you. His hands lay on your hips, guiding your actions and making sure you did as he told you. Moans and whimpers fell from your lips, as you fell into a trance of pleasure and frustration. At this point you felt so sensitive, you were sure if only he touched you or let you ride him faster, it would only be a matter of seconds until you would come undone.

But this way you only built up your high very slowly. You felt his soft lips at the back of your neck, whispering sweet nothings and telling you how good you were doing. You only managed to whimper in response, still desperately wishing you could touch him now. For a moment you focused on his heavy breaths and moans. Maybe for a moment too long. Because without you realizing, you were starting to speed up a little bit. The knot in your stomach seemed to twist tighter with every second, while stars danced in front of your eyelids. You felt his grip on your sides tighten.

“Steady, baby girl. We don’t wanna rush, do we?” he teased you, knowing exactly that it drove you mad. You admired his ability to control himself in situations like these.

“Please,” you begged weakly. He chuckled darkly.

“But you’re doing so good? Don’t you want to wait a little longer?” he asked, teasing you some more. You could practically hear his smirk in his voice.

“No, I want to come, please,” you whimpered, truthfully.

“I guess what my baby wants, my baby gets, huh?” he said. At the same time, one of his fingers slid between your slick folds. Your body reacted before your mind could. You clenched around his length, earning a groan from your boyfriend.

“Fuck, do that again,” he swore. Your legs instinctively wanted to close around his touch, but it was impossible since you were straddling him. His hand found your clit, circling around it and rolling it between his fingers. The sudden amount of pleasure was overwhelming after not getting enough for too long. Now, you also rode him faster, the sound of his hips slapping against yours being like music to your ears.

At this point, your mind was completely blank, and you doubted that any of the sounds that came from you made any sense at all. But you didn’t care. All you cared about was the feeling you were chasing. And he knew you all too well. He knew exactly how your moans changed, the closer you got to your orgasm. How you couldn’t properly form words and how your back arched off him.

“Come, baby girl,” he whispered into your ear. “Come for me.”

And then the knot in the pit of stomach untied. All at once, you saw stars in front of your eyelids, as you whimpered his name. Your hands behind your back were clenched to fists, wishing you could hold onto something.

“Don’t stop, baby,” he moaned. You sped up your actions while you were riding out your orgasm as you felt him twitch inside of you. When you came down from your high, you tried hard not to stop just yet, even though the sensitivity was almost unbearable. He snapped his hips upwards a few last times, before he reached his high as well. You loved the way he sounded when he came, and the way he grabbed onto your body, pulling you close. Then, you slowed down steadily, until you had both stopped moving completely.

His forehead was leaned against the back of your neck, his breathing a little ruptured against your skin. You felt a little sleepy, as you noticed his hands fumbling with the rope tied around your wrists.

“I love you,” he whispered, untying you. “You did so good.”

When he was done, you finally moved around to face him. Softly, he touched your skin where the rope had been, placing a kiss on it.

“I love you too,” you said, leaning forward to bury your head in the crook of his neck. Finally, you could hug him again. Tiredly, you yawned and closed your eyes, breathing in his familiar scent.

“Baby, I still need to untie the rest of the ropes,” he reminded you. In response, you hummed, but didn’t let go of him.

“Just a little longer,” you whispered, your eyelids only feeling heavier with every passing second. He chuckled softly, but obliged. His arms were warm and you felt cozy when he embraced you and held you for another while.

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thechekhov · 4 years

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Hey you are cool so I wanna ask you for advice. How can I stop feeling like a lazy piece of trash although I am productive? I feel bad lately, and my Dad doesn't even think I could do a simple cleaning job for a small office. I feel so dumb honestly, like Im too incompetent to do anything

Hey, sorry this is late! I ended up not being able to answer in the moment, so I had to take time to file it away for later.

I know I probably don’t know exactly what you’re going through but I can sort of relate a little bit - although my brain is good at certain tasks, it’s SHIT at others. I can sit and drawn for hours, but doing things that involve simple social processes are things I swerve to avoid.

So I guess that’s what I wanna talk to you about - different strengths.

First of all, we don’t all naturally gravitate towards the same urge to do the same things. We have a stat block, like a video game creature or a pokemon that has a random assignment of points to its ORGANIZE and CREATE and BUILD and (+ 1 million other variations) abilities. This is actually normal and natural - humans are social animals. If we all naturally wanted to do the same thing all the time, our group would find it difficult to work together.

Second, you’re not a robot - doing something is not as simple as pressing a button. Yes, some things are important to do - keeping your space clean, helping out, doing errands, etc. - but just because they SHOULD be done doesn’t automatically make them easier to do. To some people these tasks come more naturally, and to some they are so far down on the list that they are practically tortures.

If your dad doesn’t think you can do a simple cleaning job for a small office then - maybe he’s right!

....and who cares?

MANY people can’t do a simple cleaning job for a small office. Doing cleaning requires skill. I know we tend to look down on people who do menial labor but I personally find this laughable. Cleaning ISN’T simple. It requires abilities like organization (gathering supplies), planning (how long something will take and what needs doing), spatial reasoning (where to start cleaning from in order to maximize efficiency) and physical stamina (scrubbing, bending down, twisting yourself into weird shapes to reach something, etc).

(I personally wish we’d stop approaching cleaning as something that is so simple it is a given - people often need to be taught *how* to clean from an early age. They need practice cleaning and they need guidance. So your dad saying that is literally a blank statement - it means nothing to your overall productivity or worth.)

You know what you CAN do instead of cleaning a small office that’s just as impressive and just as important?

You can write! Forgive my presumptions - I see from your profile you’re a fic writer. That’s great! That’s also a skill that needs time to develop! Not many people have the correct stats for writing - it’s something that’s also highly valued in society!

Your productivity is not - should not - be measured by what other people personally think you should be doing for their benefit.

And furthermore - your productivity does not define your worth. Some of us are more productive one day and less so the next. Some of us create/draw/write/build/sew/read/research/present/ cook/clean less stuff than others in a lifetime. And you know what? That’s also fine. We’re not striving towards a goal. We don’t have a prize to win for productivity at the end.

So if you’re not productive and you can’t clean - don’t worry! You’re still a person and it does not make you any less deserving of love.

P.S. And if you’re personally bothered by not being able to do something - if you are motivated to change this - I definitely recommend approaching ANY basic life skill with the assumption that it is NOT easy and WILL take time and proper guidance to learn. That way you will not put yourself down so much when you don’t automatically know how to do it.

#softheartedsnake #motivation #productivity #chekhov answers

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sirowsky · 3 years

Text

The Flowers Always Know

Description: When a mad scientist uses you as an experiment while you’re on holiday, the Heroics only just manage to save you. And in your recovery you become very close to the leader of the group. (Slow burn)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Language, kidnapping, torture (not the gory kind), angst, buried trauma.

Link to Masterlist

Comment: You have a woman that seriously hurt you, at your mercy, and you’re struggling with how far to take it. Meanwhile, Marcus realises he’s going to have to save you from yourself, if he can find you in time.

Chapter 43

You waited for her to wake up for almost thirty minutes, and that was after you’d taken her to the abandoned warehouse, and secured her to a solid metal post that used to connect the floor to the ceiling. You didn’t know exactly what kind of tranquilizer Tech had used, but it sure was potent. Her feet were still tied together and you’d placed her on her knees with her back to the post. Her arms were strung up above her head on either side of the post, and secured individually, to ensure she couldn’t use either hand to untie the other. Her head hung low between her shoulders and her body seemed completely limp. If not for her slow and even breathing, you’d have thought she was already dead.

***

After your phone had gone to voicemail for the third time, Marcus lost it. He’d been working on dismantling the containers, no longer needed, while he waited for Aidan to finish his task, and for you to call him. He didn’t do well with idle hands when he was worried about something, and there was so much at stake right now. Then his phone had beeped, and as he’d read the message, his blood had turned to ice. He’d immediately tried calling you back, but he was routed straight to your recorded voice declaring that you were indisposed at the moment. Desperate to believe that you wouldn’t do this, that you weren’t cruel enough to do what his mind was telling him were the only reasons you would have taken off with the believed head of the entire organisation you were trying to bring down, he tried again. The third time was just dumb, but he really was losing it. He ran back to Tech.

“I need you to track my wife, right now! Her phone, car, fucking watch – anything!”

“What? Why? What’s going on?”

“She took off with Kane, we have to find her before she does something she can’t come back from.”

“She wouldn’t do that, Marcus. She started all of this because she wants the pain and deaths to stop. She’s a good person.”

“Yes, she is. But Kane very nearly killed our baby, and as much as I hope that she’s strong enough to resist, I know that the mother in her is the most powerful part of her, and she’s gonna wanna hurt Kane. Even if she doesn’t kill her, she might still torture her, and I can’t let her do that. It would never stop haunting her, specifically because she is a good person. Please, Tech.”

“Okay, okay. Let me see what I can find.”

Marcus was beside himself with worry, and his mind was grasping at anything it could to distract itself, while there was nothing he could do but wait.

“Where are we with the operation?”

Tech answered him at the same time as he typed impossibly fast on his laptop, and various windows were popping up and disappearing on the screen.

“Only six more cities left to confirm completion. All the others have been successful.”

“I’ll check on the kid.”

He walked over to where Aidan sat on the same spot in the grass. The boy was pale and bathing in cold sweat, breathing hard and visibly trembling with the effort it had taken out of him. With so few locations left, he had been able to let go of most of the birds, but he was exhausted and still had hundreds of birds left to direct for a while yet. Marcus knew that Aidan’s fate mattered to you, and it did to him as well, so he sat down next to him, and put his arm over the kid’s shoulders. He just wanted to convey that he was there and that he cared, and Aidan seemed to feel it, because his discomfort lessened a bit.

“I found the car!”

Tech’s voice reached him from across the field, and he got up, but not before whispering ‘hang in there, kid’ to the boy. Then he sprinted back to his friend’s station.

“Tell me.”

“I don’t know what the hell she did with her phone, but I can’t see it at all. I had to break into her car’s emergency alert system, and trick it into believing there’d been an accident, to get it to reveal the coordinates. It’s parked on a street on the edge of a warehouse district, but she could be in any one of a hundred different abandoned structures on that lot.”

“Just send me those coordinates, I’ll find her.”

***

When she finally did wake up, you felt oddly calm. As though something inside you relished the thought that she was about to wake up to a real-life nightmare. Somewhere deep inside, you knew that you should be disgusted with yourself for reacting like that, but your hatred towards this woman was clouding your mind, and darkening your heart. But just knowing that wasn’t enough to make you wanna stop. Her head twitched first, and then her hands, as she tried to move against her restraints. When she realised that she was unable to, she tried to lift her head, but she was still groggy, and her nerves weren’t responding normally, resulting in a clumsy few bobs of her head before she managed to draw it back to rest against the post. She was still too groggy to speak, but you saw the recognition in her eyes when they fell on you, and there was surprise in there as well, which pleased you more than it should have.

“Hi. I’d say it’s good to see you, Emily, but it just isn’t. I don’t even know what to say to you yet. I’ve been sitting here for half an hour thinking about what I wanna say… or just do, to you, and I still don’t know. But we have time. I’m sure I’ll figure it out.”

“You… have no.. idea… what… you’re doing.”

“And why is that? Because you experiment on people against their will, and have no problems with being complicit to mass-murder, if not committing it yourself? Or is it because you’re the leader of a covert organisation of hundreds of agents that do all of that on your behest?”

She was regaining control of her body, and you could see the contempt in her face as it dawned on her just how much you’d already figured out.

“How?”

Her tone was demanding and arrogant, and as the façade of the benign doctor fell away, you didn’t even recognise her face anymore.

“You told me. Through my subconscious. Word of advice: if you’re gonna give people powers, having no idea what they might turn out to be, don’t show them your fucking face.”

“Those memories... were removed. The super who took them… he never fails.”

“He left behind just enough that my powers could recreate a single image for me. But that was enough.”

“Well, congratulations, you figured it out. You’ll never stop us; our organisation has grown exponentially.”

“The Society of Inferiority Complex, yeah, we know.”

“How mature…”

“An acronym that spelled SIC (sick) was just too appropriate to pass up.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you call us. Before long, you’ll be introduced into a world where everyone is just as powerful as you. You won’t be so smug then.”

You got up from the crate you’d been sitting on, and stepped right up to her so you could squat down and face her at eye-level, mere inches away from her.

“Tonight, hundreds of our operatives have kidnapped hundreds of yours, just like I did with you. We’ve been monitoring your activities for months, mapping your movements, documenting your labs and temporary offices all over the world. You never even knew how many supers live covert lives in today’s society, did you? Well, we found hundreds of them, and after hearing what you did to me, and to those children, they all volunteered to help us. Your own actions created an army of superpowered people hellbent on destroying you. Did you really think you’d be able to beat us? All you’ve done is unite us.”

“Aren’t you clever, little Rainbow. But, tell me… If you’re such a good girl – why’d you bring me out here? All alone. Where no one can hear us.”

You pulled back just a few inches, but her question only managed to wake all the anger inside you back to roaring life. If she really wanted to know the answer, you’d happily show her.

“Because you tried to kill my baby.”

You dropped all pretence, and allowed your powers to flare freely. The concrete under your feet snapped and cracked, sending long trailing crevices through the floor. Time and erosion had created flaws from underneath, that meant that large sections dropped several inches in some places, sending thunderous rumbles through the whole area. But you didn’t care. Ordinarily, your mind automatically shielded anything living, standing in your vicinity, when you flooded this dimension with the denser energy of the others that you had access to. Otherwise, you’d destroy every living cell around you by forcibly compressing them until they were crushed. And, ordinarily, that wasn’t something you wanted to be responsible for. But not this time. You merely sat there, hands clenched into fists, staring at her, seeing only those eyes that had looked at you with such fondness while you worked with her. Those eyes that had fooled you so completely. You wanted to rip them out of her head.

“Good show. But we both know you don’t have what it takes to…”

Your stillness was an illusion. You were slowly gathering an increasing amount of energy into the air around her, and as the space got more and more crowded, her whole body was slowly being crushed. She fell silent mid-sentence when she realised that your stare was in no way harmless, and a minute later, the first scream escaped her.

***

The car was unlocked when Marcus got to it. The keys were still in the ignition, and on the front passenger-seat he found a contorted piece of metal and plastic and glass that had probably been your phone. All the materials had melded together as you’d forced them to compact more than they were actually structurally able to. That was a bad sign, if he’d ever seen one. There was nothing else in or around the car that could indicate which way you’d taken your prisoner, and the odds that you’d have stayed close enough to be able to hear him if he shouted for you from there, were non-existent. Using his current, he tried to sense your energy, and was almost startled at how strong a trail he discovered. But, of course, he should’ve known that you’d use your ghost hands to move Kane, to prevent leaving marks on the ground, as well as make it easier for yourself. He started following the signature of your powers, so familiar to him by now, and it led him into the very heart of the labyrinth of old run-down buildings and factories. But when he got to a certain point, the energy suddenly quadrupled, snaking off in four different directions.

“Oh, for god’s sake, woman… Give me a chance, at least.”

A terrifyingly loud rumbling, accompanied by what very well could’ve been an earthquake, but wasn’t, came from his left, and without hesitating he ran towards it. The ground was split open and uneven and half-collapsed buildings lined the roads that he followed to get to you. But he still had to run for hundreds of yards until he reached the structure that it seemed to be coming from, based on the directions of the cracks under his feet. Realising how far you’d allowed your energy to reach, he was once again amazed at just how powerful you were, but also petrified that it might mean he was already too late. As he made his way inside the lightly trembling warehouse, he heard blood-curdling screams coming from somewhere inside, and his heart fell. But if she was screaming, she was still alive, which meant he still had time. When he got to the right place, it was like walking into a nightmare. There was no ceiling above you and no lights were working, leaving the room basking in nothing but the pale and ghostly moonlight. You’d somehow twisted the whole room so that nothing was straight anymore. Posts and beams and even the walls, were all bent or curved or twisted around themselves or something else. The ground had risen in some places, and fallen in others. It felt like he was walking into a physical representation of what your mind looked like right now. And in a way, he supposed it was. Kane was still alive, but whatever you were doing to her was painful to the extent that she was shaking uncontrollably against her restraints, pleading like a child for you to stop, in between fits of vomiting and convulsing. And you were so calm. So viciously calm it was heart-breaking to him. You just sat in front of her, one knee resting on the ground, the other under your elbow, watching her as though you were a cliff and she was the ocean, thrashing against you with all her might, but unable to move your solid frame even a single inch. If he hadn’t known how much this was actually hurting you, he might’ve found it fascinating. But he knew you so well that all he could see, was his beloved wife being destroyed.

***

“Hermosa.”

His voice came to you like a butterfly against a hurricane. Like soft whispers carried on those wings, so faint, but still able to drown out that howling wind in your ears. Your eyes automatically turned to find his, and the pain that was already overwhelming your heart, seemed to double. This wasn’t who you were, you knew that. Every fibre of your being knew that, but you’d forced them into silence with your anger. Used your pain as a shield against all those voices telling you to stop. But Marcus… seeing him look at you with that much fear… Not the fears you’d seen before, when he’d thought he was losing you, or when you were injured or being threatened, or the fear that you wouldn’t love him anymore after he walked away from you. No, this time he wasn’t afraid for you – he was afraid of you. Of just what you were capable of, how far you were willing to go, how much darkness you were willing to let into your heart to try and be free of the pain that festered in there. Your powers were draining you fast. You’d made no attempt to hold them back at all, and if you stopped now, all that exhaustion would come crashing over you, and you’d be unable to finish what you’d started. But what had you started? What was it you were hoping to achieve here? You’d wanted to hear her scream, and you had. You’d wanted to hurt her like she hurt you, and you had. But did you want her to die? Were you willing to become a murderer just so that you didn’t have to see the falseness of her face ever again? Confused, but no less angry, you forced your gaze away from your husband, and refocused on Kane, pulling even more energy out to thicken around her until one of her shoulders was pushed out of alignment with the amount of force bearing down on her. The harsh popping sound was loud enough to reach Marcus’ ears, and her resulting scream made him close the distance between you, while he started begging you to stop.

“Please… this is wrong, you know that, mi amor.”

“You know, I remember thinking that if there had just been someone there to stop my torturer, I could’ve been spared so much pain and fear. And then I found out someone was there, but she did nothing to help me. She just watched and enjoyed the show. So, why should I treat her any better? Why should she be spared that pain?”

Your energy already filled the room, and half the damned district, so when the images started appearing, they didn’t just show up around you, they flooded the whole area. Every memory you had of every moment that had hurt you, throughout your whole life. There were hundreds of them.

“The tears I’ve shed could build a lake. Tell me what I’ve done to deserve that. How could anyone do anything bad enough to deserve all of this?”

“You’ve done nothing wrong, hermosa. Life just doesn’t work like that.”

“Then I should at least get to avenge myself!”

Her other shoulder popped, and she squealed and wailed until her voice gave up and she just sobbed instead. Marcus moved even closer, just a few yards away from you now.

“You should. You should get to avenge all the terrible things that have been done to you, but you never can. All you can do, is hurt yourself instead. I know you’re forcing yourself not to feel it right now, but this hurts you. You want it to feel good, to make you feel better, but it won’t, because you’re a good person. You are a good person, hermosa. That’s why I married you, that’s why you’re carrying my child, and that’s why my daughter loves you.”

Missy. Fuck. Why’d he have to mention her?

“Please, sweetheart. Don’t make me watch you destroy yourself. I already lost one wife… I need you to let me keep you.”

His voice was so frail by the end of that sentence that you feared a mere breath might break it apart. And yet, his words held so much power. They forced their way under your skin, cooling your blood and pushing the anger out. But the pain was still just as strong. Desperate to get rid of it, to be free of everything that haunted you, you collapsed on the ground, and enormous quantities of your sparkling dust poured out of you, flooding the room in every direction, flowing unhindered through all that energy that you’d pumped into it. The images were still there, snapshots of the worst moments of your life, the one’s that caused you more pain than you could ever voice, and you wished that you could make them solid. That you could pull them out of yourself completely and leave them behind in that room. The dust pulled the images apart, turning them into three-dimensional representations of themselves, while you watched, actually seeing the magic happen for the first time. When the sculptures were finished, they solidified, just like before. A single tear escaped your left eye as you saw your very worst memories turned into some sort of bizarre museum-exhibit all around you. It rolled swiftly down your cheek, and with the way you were sitting, it should’ve hit the top of your left hand, holding you up from the ground. But it never landed. Instead, it hovered mid-air for a few seconds, before splitting into dozens of smaller drops, that each flew away to one of the sculptures. And as the drops made contact with them, the sculptures turned to stone. Transparent, and still sparkling in every colour on the spectrum, but unmistakably more solid than just the dust. Once again, your powers had tried to give you what you asked for, what you needed the most. If only the memories could’ve been trapped inside those statues as well. If only you actually could get up, walk away and leave them behind forever. Strong arms encircled you as Marcus pulled you off the ground and into his chest, and you finally gave in. Now that you allowed yourself to feel it, you were completely spent. You wanted to say something to him, but he didn’t need an explanation, he understood everything, you knew that.

“Marcus… I’m sorry…”

He just kissed your forehead and held you closer, but if he said anything, you passed out before you could hear what it was.

Author’s Note: As always, I love criticism, please don’t be shy to let me know if there’s anything you like/don’t like/have questions about.

@allmyspideys @blueeyesatnight @hrk-fic-recs @strawberryperegrine @lucrezia-thoughts @computeringturtle @sarahjkl82-blog @giselatropicana @ayamenimthiriel

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno fic #we can be heroes #we can be heroes fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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elizabeethan · 4 years

Text

Because You Want Me

Part 2/6 of It’s About Bloody Time (AO3)

Read on AO3

Summary: Emma Swan can’t stop having sex with Killian Jones. With Captain Hook. Her 10-year-old self would be cringing. What has her life become?

She finds herself wondering just that a few times during their journey back to Storybrooke, but is immediately distracted by the feel of his fingers, his lips, his tongue, his hook touching her skin. Each time she sees his strong presence at the helm of his ship, she wonders what she’s gotten herself into, and each time they come together, she finds herself not caring.

The voyage back to Storybrooke is not very long, about a day and a half.

They’ve met in secret on his ship four times.

She’s just about to tell herself that this is wrong, that she shouldn’t be doing this– not with him, not for a fifth time—when she feels his fingers sliding down her torso and into her jeans, resting above her panties, pressing gently where she aches for him. Suddenly, the thoughts leave her mind.

A follow-up to It’s About Bloody Time. They return to Storybrooke, but there’s no Pan body switch and no second curse.

Emma Swan can’t stop having sex with Killian Jones.

With Captain Hook.

Her 10-year-old self would be cringing.

What has her life become?

The voyage back to Storybrooke is not very long, about a day and a half. They’ve met in secret on his ship four times.

She’s just about to tell herself that this is wrong, that she shouldn’t be doing this-- not with him, not for a fifth time—when she feels his fingers sliding down her torso and into her jeans, resting above her panties, pressing gently where she aches for him. Suddenly, the thoughts leave her mind.

He’s kissing her with fervor, as they need to be quick in their task of reaching their pleasure. It is the middle of the day, after all, and they expect to make port in Storybrooke in just a few hours, having just landed back in the sea. But even as they make haste, she feels better than she’s ever felt before. It’s absolutely insane to her that a person can make her feel this good.

He breaks away from her mouth briefly, pushing her jeans down to her knees before pinning her against the beam once more. They're in a shadowy corner of the crew’s cabin surrounded by barrels and hammocks, and the knowledge that anyone could feasibly walk in on them is both horrifying and exhilarating. It also serves to ensure that they move more quickly, hoping to finish the task at hand before anyone has a chance to notice that they both went missing at the same time.

She feels his fingers pressing warmly against her again, although he hasn’t moved her underwear yet. It feels good, sure, but it isn’t nearly enough, and she has a feeling that he knows this. He’s still circling the point of his hook against her clothed breast, teasing at her nipples as he often enjoys doing.

Before she has a chance to chastise him for torturing her, he dives his hand below the fabric, his fingers dancing delicately as they move down to collect some of her arousal, then swirling against her clit with the perfect amount of pressure and speed.

She throws her head back against the hard wooden beam, a groan drawing from her as she tugs on the back of his hair. With the loud thump that her head makes, she stills, fearing that the noises could alert the others aboard the ship of their location.

“Alright, love?” he asks against her throat, threatening to suck another bruise into her skin. She’s had to work very diligently to ensure that her hair covers the one he’s already given her.

“I was just worried that someone might hear us.”

He hums softly into her skin and stalls his ministrations against her. “Do you want me to stop?” he asks, pulling away to look her in the eye. He isn’t asking to be cocky, but rather to ensure that she wants this as much as she knows he does.

“God no,” she breathes.

He smirks and returns his mouth to her neck, plunging a finger into her and then adding a second while his thumb expertly works against her clit. She could come so quickly from this, but she wants more.

“Get inside me, Killian.” She’s so breathless that it comes out like a whisper, the demanding tone she was aiming for falling short but not quite losing its potency.

He’s practically growling when he pulls his fingers from her, undoing the laces of his pants and pulling them down just far enough. She pulls hers down all the way after struggling with her boots before he lifts her. Her back is pressed against the beam and it’s almost painful, but she suddenly gets distracted by his erection pressing against her, moving gently along her wet folds. She realizes it’s difficult for him to angle himself while supporting her weight, so she reaches between them and does it for him. She opens to him immediately as he presses inside of her. If she had any thoughts before about someone hearing, or knowing where they were, or the beam bruising the skin of her back, they're immediately eradicated at the feeling of his cock sheathed tightly inside of her.

It’s fast, as it has been each time they’ve been in this position, but she doesn’t mind. The speed at which he can unravel her is impressive, as is the fact that he has not yet failed to ensure that she has finished before he lets himself go inside of her. Before she can really even think about it, his thumb is pressing against her clit and she’s clenching around him, exploding into a state of bliss like she’s never known and will likely never find elsewhere, shoving fabric aside and biting into the spot where his shoulder meets his neck to silence the screams that threaten to escape her. When she feels him emptying himself inside of her, it makes her own orgasm linger.

“Fuck,” she mumbles. Her breaths are coming out in pants and her face is still pressed against his shoulder and his into her neck.

“My thoughts exactly, love. Sorry if that was too quick.”

“It wasn’t,” she whispers back.

“I couldn’t stop myself from wanting you when I saw you bracing yourself as we landed. How you managed to make grabbing onto a piece of rope look so undeniably sexy is a mystery to me.”

She chuckles as he drops his hook from behind her knee, allowing her to stand but steadying her as she missteps slightly with her wobbly legs and the rock of the ship. “I could say the same about you behind the wheel, Captain.”

He’s presses his nose below her ear and growls lightly against her skin before nipping there, making her gasp. Rather than respond, he pulls away from her and pulls a cloth from the pocket of his greatcoat. She realizes that he never fully took it off, just slouched it down his arms, which shouldn’t arouse her as much as it does.

Once she’s cleaned up, she pulls her pants back up then zips up her boots before smoothing her hair as much as she can, pulling some of it over her shoulder to hide her bruise. She hums softly in question to him and he smiles softly. It’s a smile she’s only ever seen him give to her. “Very presentable, Swan.”

“I’ve been thinking about when we get home,” she starts. He’s pulling up his own trousers as she speaks.

“Aye? We’ll make port very shortly.”

“I was thinking more of after that.” He gives her an expectant look, hoping she’ll go on. She hesitates, struggling to say what she needs to say but pushing herself into it. “About Neal.”

She sees his face fall slightly before he turns away from her. “Swan, if you’ve changed your mind, you need only say the words-”

“Not like that, Hook. I was thinking about how he’s going to try to get back in my good graces. I was thinking about how to let him down without tipping him off that I’m having an affair with his mortal enemy.”

“I’m hardly his mortal enemy, Swan.” He’s walking towards the door, but he hasn’t opened it yet.

“He can’t seem to just take no for an answer,” she continues, pressing on despite the confused and perhaps hurt look on his face. “I have a feeling that if he had the chance to try and win me back and he still failed, he would back off more permanently.”

His brows pinch together and although his hand is resting on the handle of the door, he continues to listen to her. “What are you saying, love?”

“I was thinking, maybe if you told him you were backing off and he tried then, he would see that it’s not anything to do with me having to choose between the two of you. That it’s about him and me not working out and me being genuinely uninterested.”

She can tell that he’s unhappy without needed to see the scowl on his face. “Don’t you think that’s a bit… problematic, Swan? That you should feel the need to manipulate the man into not pursuing you?”

“This whole situation is problematic, Hook. I really don’t see him leaving me alone unless he sees that it’s us not working out and not some outside force keeping us apart,” she says with a roll to her eyes. She’ll admit that this may not be her brightest plan, but she really can’t see any other way to get Neal off of her back for good.

“If this is what you want, love, I’ll do it… I just worry that he may see this as an opportunity…”

“I told you already, I don’t wanna be with him.”

“Aye, and I told you that I would wait for you to make your decision about me.” She hears what he isn’t saying. Hears that he wanted to say about us. She can see it in his face, too, his eyes downcast and the smallest frown on his lips.

“Are you mad at me?” she asks, taking his hand from the knob and holding it in her own.

“No, how could I ever be mad at you,” he replies, smiling softly, sadly, and she can see that this is killing him. “Just promise me one thing, Swan?”

She’s hesitant to agree, but nods.

“Promise me that once things are truly over with Baelfire, you’ll consider…” She hears it again. Us.

Rather than responding, she pulls his hand up to her heart with one hand and reaches for the back of his hair with the other, pulling him down to her and pressing a soft kiss upon his lips.

“We should really go,” she says. “We’re probably getting close to the port and everyone’s gonna be looking for you soon.”

“You as well, Swan.”

“Hmm, but I’m not the captain.”

When they finally do reach the port in Storybrooke, much of the town’s residents are waiting for them. There’s talks of heroes and hard work, and when her mother gives special credit to Regina, Emma feels something flaring in the pit of her stomach. She’ll admit that having her magic was helpful, but she wonders why Regina was credited so heavily when it was Hook’s ship, guidance, and knowledge of the island that truly aided in their success. The fact that his contributions are completely brushed over makes her feel irritated-- and confused at the fact that it makes her irritated.

Sure, she can try and convince herself that what they’re doing is purely physical. That it’s just sex, and nothing more. That he doesn’t understand her more clearly than any other person she’s ever met.

But that hasn’t really been working over the last few days.

When they arrive at Granny’s and she sees him at the counter with his mug of ale talking to Neal, she feels another fire burning in the pit of her stomach, but it isn’t anger or resentment this time.

He was right about Neal taking the opportunity and running with it. As soon as Hook leaves Granny’s, Neal is next to Emma, asking her to join her for lunch tomorrow. She doesn’t say yes because she can’t. She can’t get the look of Hook’s face when they talked about this on the ship out of her head. She knows that it’s killing him and that’s killing her, but she can’t bring herself to do anything about it. Not yet.

She doesn’t go to lunch.

~~~~

Five weeks go by, and she and Henry have made themselves more than comfortable in the upper level of Mary Margaret’s loft. Surprisingly, there aren’t any emergencies taking up her time, and she’s able to spend her energy building up her relationship with her son. (Apparently that takes a lot of energy, as she’s continuously finding herself exhausted.) He’s started to spend more time with Regina as well and spends a few nights a week with her.

Neal is still staying at Granny’s and she and Regina won’t let Henry sleep there with him, but she does allow him to spend a few evenings a week having dinner with him.

He hasn’t really given up trying to get close to her, and rather than indulge him individually, she sometimes joins Henry for dinner with him. She enjoys the look on his face when he sees his parents together.

On a Tuesday night, she’s so exhausted she might just collapse in the middle of the floor. Once she’s ready for bed, her teeth flossed and brushed, her birth control diligently taken, and her hair messily braided, she curls into the full-sized mattress and pulls the quilt to her chin, drifting into a fitful sleep.

She dreams of Henry and the absolute dread that came with seeing Pan grab his heart and thrust it into his own chest. She dreams of Hook and Neal in the Dark Hollow and how near she came to losing them. She dreams of crushed look on his face when she asked him to put her needs above his own. And when she wakes up with a start, she sees Henry sleeping soundly in the twin bed next to her and feels slight relief at the knowledge that he’s here and okay, not on Neverland. Then a crushing sense of guilt squeezes on her heart and her lungs until she can’t lay still in her bed any longer. When she checks the time and sees it’s only 12:08, she gets up, quietly changes into leggings and a sweatshirt, and walks down the stairs, leaving a note on the counter to let her family know that she’s going for a walk to clear her head, just in case, and heads out the door.

It isn’t like she doesn’t know where she’s going. A part of her knows that she’s on her way to the pier before she even thinks to head in that direction. After all, it’s not as if this is the first time she’s gotten up in the night and gone to him.

When she arrives and steps onto the gangplank, she can see the soft glow of a lantern coming from below deck.

“Permission to come aboard?” she calls loud enough to be heard but not loud enough to cause a ruckus. He appears quickly.

“Swan, what a surprise,” he says, and she thinks she can see the faintest smile on his face and wonders if he truly finds her being there surprising. “Permission granted, love.”

“What are you doing up so late?” she asks once she’s aboard his ship. He reaches a hand out to her to help her onto the deck.

“Sleep never comes easily to a pirate captain. What about you?”

“Same.”

He’s chuckling. “I always knew there was a little pirate in you, Swan,” he jokes, and she can’t keep the smile off her face. Dammit.

“I kept having nightmares,” she says more seriously.

“A common response to trauma, I’ve found.”

“Yeah, I guess. I kept seeing you getting your shadow ripped away.”

He leads her below deck, no doubt trying to remove them from the chill of the autumn air. “Luckily, I had you there to save me, aye?” She scoffs softly, unable to take the compliment. “What brought you all the way out here at such an hour, love?”

She shrugs. He offers her his flask but she shakes her head, knowing that if she drank she would be saying goodbye to any chance she has to sleep tonight.

“I don’t know…”

“Come sit down, Swan?”

She obliges, sitting on a chair next to him, across from what she knows to be his chair on the other side of the desk. It’s interesting to see where he works, and the fact that this is also where he sleeps, and she can see his bunk, doesn’t get past her either.

“I’m sorry, Hook,” she says, without planning to.

“For what, love?”

“I didn’t realize… I guess you were right about Neal. He keeps asking me out and I just… I didn’t realize that this would be this difficult. Like… between us. And everything else.”

“I see,” he says diplomatically, and she’s finding it hard to look at him, to turn her body towards his and face him. “I wish you wouldn’t apologize though.”

“Why? You were right.”

“Aye, maybe, but it’s not as if I wanted to be. No matter what happens, he’s still the father of your child. I don’t want you to feel like you need to put on this elaborate plan just to get Baelfire to stop pining after you.”

She’s lost in his words again; in the way he talks about her son. It's as if he knows exactly what she’s thinking before she even knows she’s thinking it. It’s also difficult for her to comprehend the impact that this has on them, so rather than focus on that she changes the subject completely. “It always throws me off when you call him that,” she says, finally turning to him and giving him a soft smile.

“I suppose I’ve always known him as Baelfire. Although you do often call me Hook,” he smirks.

“I call you Killian sometimes.”

“Usually it’s only when we’re sharing the bed, love,” he smiles softly at her now, and she thinks she can make out a hint of genuineness in his sarcasm.

“Hmm, I don’t know, we haven’t had sex in a bed that much. We tend to favor tables, doors, barrels…” She’s grinning now, as is he.

“We can certainly change that one day, darling.”

“Why wait?” she asks boldly, and suddenly she realizes that she doesn’t need sleep anytime soon.

He’s smirking, his tongue snaking out along his bottom lip as he stands and then leans all the way down to her level and runs his fingers delicately along her jawline.

“Did you come here merely to be let into my bed, Swan?” he asks with a cocky grin, his lips finding that damn spot under her ear.

“It wasn’t my intention, but it’s certainly an added bonus,” she responds with a soft smile. It’s true; when she got out of bed and started walking towards the pier, she didn’t even think about the possibility of having sex with Hook. She’s not sure what scares her more: the fact that she’s about to have sex with him again, or the fact that she came here seeking something besides sex.

“Well, I am more than happy to oblige on that front,” he says, his tongue slipping out from between his lips on her neck, soothing the slight ache he’s just created.

She hums rather than responding verbally, relishing in the feeling of his hand softly moving up her side under her top. She feels his grin against her neck when he discovers that she never bothered to put a bra on.

“Did you walk all the way here in the freezing cold?” he asks, his fingers running against her nipple as it stands at attention.

“Mhmm,” she hums again.

“All while displaying yourself this indecently? That’s quite naughty, isn’t it, Swan?” His fingers pinch her nipple lightly now, drawing a sigh from her.

“What are you gonna do about it?” she dares.

“Well, I suppose I’ll have to warm you up.”

“Shouldn’t be that difficult.”

When his hand cups and lightly squeezes her breast, she hisses. “Alright?” he asks, pulling away a bit and sporting a worried look.

“Yeah, just, I’m a little sore I guess.” His face doesn’t change, and she’s forced to elaborate. “I think I’m… expecting my… cycle… soon,” she says awkwardly.

“Ah, I see. Would you… do you want to stop?”

“God no. I should still have a few days.”

With the awkward exchange lingering between them, his mouth finds hers in a hurried kiss, and she reaches up to her favorite spot at the back of his head, twirling her fingers through his soft hair. He reaches his hand around her waist to her lower back and pulls gently, prompting her to stand with him, then he hoists her up into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist, and carries her to his small bunk before settling her tenderly down on the mattress. She keeps her legs around him, arms around his neck, and pulls him down with her until his body is settled on top of hers. She relishes in the weight of him on her every time they meet like this, as if the heaviness of his body grounds her. Her own personal weighted blanket, she thinks.

She would happily continue to kiss him for the rest of the night, longer, but when he separates from her mouth and moves his own down her jaw, neck, chest, stomach, she doesn’t mind. His hand and hook trace back up her stomach under her shirt, so she lifts herself to allow him to remove it swiftly. She catches him smirking again at her bare breasts.

Before he can continue to undress her, she returns the favor and pulls on his ostentatious shirt until he takes it off, then he unties his laces and pulls his leather trousers off of his legs. For the first time since they’ve been together, she reaches up for the straps of his brace, but he shakes his head.

“It’s okay,” she says, soothingly rubbing along his neck above the straps.

“It isn’t very sightly, love.”

“I don’t care, I want to see all of you. I want to feel you.” What she means is that she wants to feel his skin against hers, rather than the aged leather.

He nods, and she can tell that it’s difficult for him to give up control and allow her to remove the brace from him, but when she does, she feels relief. The injury is certainly not sightly. But it isn’t much worse than anything she could’ve conjured up in her own head, considering her minimal knowledge of medical treatment at the time that it happened. She runs her fingers gently along the battered skin and feels him shiver. She shivers along with him, realizing that this is bringing them into uncharted territory. They only recently began having sex fully unclothed, and now they're taking one more step. The thought should scare her, but once again she finds herself more excited and calm than frightened.

When he starts tugging her leggings off, almost as though he’s physically trying to change the subject, it’s as if he can’t remove them fast enough. Once they're gone, her underwear sliding off along with them, his breath catches, and he starts pressing kisses against her hips.

“Gods, love. The things you do to me…” The way that his voice sounds absolutely wrecked after only being with her for a few moments drives her mad. She can’t respond to him verbally, so she plunges her hands into his hair again and tugs, pulling his head slightly so that she can look into his eyes.

As blue meets green, emotions start flowing freely within her and she finds herself struggling to hold them back. She wonders how her face must look; wonders if it matches his. She feels a slight prick behind her eyes and draws her brows together. What the hell is wrong with me? she thinks

He gives her an out from answering herself when his hand pushes her legs farther apart, drawing his fingers ardently down her inner thigh before meeting her core. She’s relieved, both at the feeling of his skin on hers where she’s throbbing and at the excuse she’s been given to throw her head back and break eye contact from him, although she notices that she was the one to break it first.

His swollen lips meet her clit, sucking and licking at her adeptly as if he’s been doing it for his whole life. She catches herself jokingly thinking that he’s had at least 200 years of practice, then feels a slight twinge of jealousy. Where did that come from? she wonders.

He truly is a master at his craft, two fingers sinking deeply inside her and pressing against her in the spot that he found immediately, after only their first time together. She’s so close already, and just the feeling of his mouth and fingers working over her for a few minutes has her ready to implode.

Her hands are in their usual spot in his hair, but she stops pressing his head into her and fucking his face and instead pulls on his hair until he stops, suddenly craving more of him. “I want you inside me, Killian,” she says. The fact that she uses his name, not his more colorful moniker, doesn’t slip past her.

He obliges quickly, giving her one last kiss before he pulls his fingers from her center and is running them along his own erection.

“Fuck,” she breaths out. He moves his body up until his mouth is on hers, pressing hungry kisses to her lips, tongue running along them until she allows him entrance. “I never thought I would be into tasting myself like that, but I think you’ve ruined me.”

“Well you taste absolutely divine, darling. You should give yourself more credit.” She knows he’s probably smirking, but she’s kissing him again and she can’t be assed to care about what cocky face he must be making.

Before she can think, he’s inside her and she feels fuller than ever. It never ceases to amaze her how well he fits into her, stretching her to the hilt. His thrusts are slow and calculated, deep and comforting. His mouth runs along her jaw, pressing lustful kisses to her skin as he continues to drive into her until she’s moaning louder than she ever did with another lover. He moans too, whispering curses and encouragements into her ear as he kisses and nips at the lobe.

Normally, she finds that she would need some kind of stimulation against her clit, but with Killian at this angle, pressed so close to her and thrusting so deeply, his pelvis is creating enough pressure and friction that she feels close already. As he fucks into her, her nails scratch along his back and she can’t imagine how it will look in the morning. She knows he’s close too when his thrusts become slightly shorter, swifter, but he doesn’t let himself finish until she does. Once she reaches her peak, he lets himself go and they're both falling, holding onto each other on their way down. She doesn’t think she’s ever been so physically close to someone she’s having sex with, never mind emotionally.

When they’re finished, and she’s laying naked in his arms and facing him, his fingers grazing gently across her brow bone, she feels more content and relaxed than she thinks she ever has. This surprises her, as she thinks she and Hook may have just made love, and she isn’t really freaking out that much.

“My birthday’s this Thursday, you know,” she whispers into the dark.

“Is it?”

“Aye,” she says with a smirk, and he laughs while he kisses her. “Mary Margaret is gonna host dinner. I had to convince her not to throw a ball.”

He chuckles. “That sounds lovely, darling.”

“Would you come?” She isn’t feeling especially confident in her question until she sees his bright smile and feels him pull her closer to him with his blunted arm, his knee lifting slightly higher between her legs.

“I haven’t been invited,” he says jokingly.

“I just invited you.”

His face sobers slightly. “I just wouldn’t want to cause any commotion amongst your family, love.”

“I don’t care, you're my friend and I want you to come to my birthday party.”

“I’m your friend?”

“Something like that,” she smirks, and though she tried to use a sarcastic tone, she knows it came out sounding more serious. Though she’s unsure what to call him, she knows that he isn’t quite her friend.

He chuckles again, his nose running lightly against her, and says, “then it would be my honor to attend the royal princess’s birthday extravaganza.”

~~~~

When she wakes and the dull light of the red sunrise hits her, she feels so relaxed that she thinks she can go back to sleep for a week. The warmth of his firm body pressed to her back lulls her, attempting to drag her back under, and the feel of his warm breath against the back of her neck tickles and feels soothing all at once. She realizes she didn’t have a single nightmare, and here in Hook’s arms, she feels safer than she has in quite a long time.

Wait…

Shit.

She jolts up from her position in his arms, immediately missing the weight of his warm body pressed against her. She feels a twinge of nausea from the anxiety of having slept for hours in his bed. “Fuck,” she says. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Shush, Swan, let a man sleep,” he says, attempting to reach his right arm back around her waist and pull her back to him.

“What time is it?” she asks, not exactly expecting him to answer as she reaches for her phone in her pants pocket on the floor.

“Time for more sleep.”

5:38, the clock on her phone reads. She supposes it could be worse.

“I have to go.” She hears him whining, rolling to press his face to the pillow they shared in the night, his arm still reaching for the spot on the bed that she just left empty. “I’ll see you later, probably.”

“I’ll see you on your birthday. I’ll be the one in my birthday suit.”

“Killian! How do you even know that saying?” She sees his eyes fly open for the first time that morning, cerulean shocking her.

“You never call me that,” he says, surprise still written on his face.

“It counts, you're still in bed,” she responds flippantly, hopping lightly as she tries to pull up her jeans.

“I’m not complaining.”

“I know,” she smirks, tugging up her boot and zipping it.

When she gets back to the loft, her mother is awake and sitting at the table. She realizes that there are many ways that this can go, with very few probabilities in her favor.

“Emma, you're back. I was getting worried.”

“I haven’t been gone long,” she lies, hoping Mary Margaret wasn’t awake the whole time. “Sorry, I was… just having trouble sleeping.”

“That’s alright. Are you feeling better now?”

“Yeah,” Emma answers, trying to give as little information as possible, still ignoring the twist in her gut.

“Good. You should get some rest, that was a pretty long walk you took,” she says with a slight smirk to her face, and Emma feels a sense of dread settling over her. Maybe she wasn’t awake when she left at 12, but she’s at least been up for a while now. “By the way, I was wondering what you wanted me to make for Thursday? I’ve never had the chance to make your favorite meal, so I don’t even know what it is.”

“Oh, um, I don’t know. Spaghetti and meatballs maybe?”

“Yum! I can do that,” she grins, writing something down in a small book on the table before her. “And what about the guest list? I wasn’t sure who else to invite. Maybe Ashley and Ruby? And of course, Neal.”

“Oh—”

“Ashley was one of your first friends here in Storybrooke, right? And Ruby’s always been a friend to us. I suppose in that case I would extend it to Granny. Was there anyone else you could think of?”

“Um—”

“Maybe this is more for Henry, but I was even considering Regina.”

“I invited Killian,” she says suddenly, stupidly. Now her mother is going to wonder when she would have time to have invited Hook between yesterday when she suggested the small gathering and now.

“Who?”

“Killian,” she says, noting that Mary Margaret’s confused face hasn’t changed. “…Hook”

“Oh.” Her face falls. “Did you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay… I’ll just have to make sure we have room at the table…”

“Well, you just asked me if I wanted to invite anyone else, so… he should fit.”

“No, no, that’s fine! I mean, if you want Hook to be here… as long as everyone’s… appropriate.”

“My thoughts exactly,” she says, anger rising more quickly than she anticipated.

“Well, that’s fine, Emma. It’s your birthday. Why don’t you head up to bed, okay? We can talk more about this in the morning.”

She isn’t sure what else there is to talk about, but she nods, turning towards the stairs and climbing them quickly.

Once she reaches the top, she’s exhausted again and gets into bed. She falls asleep longing for the feeling of his strong arms around her.

~~~~

When Thursday morning comes, she wakes up feeling anxious and dreadful. Henry spent last night with Regina, so when she rises from sleep, she’s alone in the upper level of the loft. Before she can even think about who else might home, before she can think at all, she’s bolting from bed and down the stairs, straight into the bathroom.

She’s not usually one to be sick due to anxiety, but then again, she’s never really felt this anxious before. She’s been feeling like her heart is racing lately, and her nausea and bloating is throwing her off. This is the first time that she’s actually been ill because of her emotional state. She didn’t realize that her birthday dinner would be such a trigger.

Her breasts have also been tender, though, so she assumes it must be anxiety mixed with PMS. That would explain the bloating, too.

When she brushes her teeth and leaves the bathroom, both of her parents are there, staring.

Ugh.

“Emma, are you alright? Are you sick?”

“I’m fine,” she responds to her mother, who’s face is currently more worried than she’s ever seen it.

“Do you want me to post pone your party tonight? I’m sure everyone would understand if you're not feeling well.”

“No, I’m fine. I think it’s just…” she fades off, not wanting to admit to her father that she’s about to get her period. “It’s fine.” She makes a face at Mary Margaret, placing her hand on her lower stomach and glancing down, then back up at her expectantly.

She thinks her mother understands when she starts nodding lightly and steps back into the kitchen. She sees David’s face fall faintly as he goes back to the couch he was on. “Have some crackers, honey. It’s practically lunch time, do you want some soup?”

“It is?”

“It’s,” she glances down at her watch, “11:47.”

“Jeez, I didn’t even realize how tired I was.”

Mary Margaret gives her a look that she can’t quite read, maybe something to do with her staying out so late the other night, before moving to the fridge and pulling out a Tupperware full of chicken soup that she made earlier in the week.

Emma spent the afternoon enjoying her soup and crackers, and her nausea went away almost completely until around 3:00 when her mother started to prepare for dinner.

“Oh my god, is that meat bad?”

Her mother’s face falls immediately as she mixes the ground beef and sausage together with some breadcrumbs and an egg in a large bowl. “I don’t think so, why?”

“I can smell it from here,” Emma says from the high countertop through her cupped hands.

“I don’t smell anything. I hope it isn’t bad, Emma, I don’t think I have time to go to the store. Henry should be here any minute, maybe he can let us know?”

Emma nods, pulling her brows together, still holding her breath as much as she can.

When Henry does arrive, he smells nothing.

“Are you sure you aren’t coming down with something, honey?”

Henry looks concerned now too, and says, “maybe you are getting sick, mom.”

She nods, “I guess I must be. Maybe it’s the change in the weather.”

“Emma we really can post pone your dinner tonight.”

She shudders at the thought of having to put it off rather than just getting the damn thing over with. “No, it’s okay. I really do feel better with the soup. If I still feel bad tomorrow I’ll go to the doctor, promise.”

Mary Margaret nods as she pulls a pan of cooked meatballs from the oven and replaces it with a pan of raw ones. Emma considers gagging outwardly at the site of them but holds back. “So, does everyone know what time to come by tonight?”

“I think so,” Emma says hesitantly. Mary Margaret was the one who invited everyone, after all. Everyone but… “I told Killian yesterday when I saw him at Granny’s.”

“Who?” Henry asks at the same time as David.

She groans inwardly, “Killian. You were there yesterday, Henry. I was talking to him while I paid the bill for lunch, remember?”

“Killian? You mean Captain Hook?”

“Hook?!” David nearly shouts, jumping from the couch and sending the TV remote flying to the floor.

“Emma invited him,” Mary Margaret adds, and Emma nearly feels herself having an aneurism.

“Why?” David asks, judgement clear in his voice.

“Why? What do you mean, why? He’s… he’s my friend.”

“He’s your friend,” he says back, not asking, more like clarifying. Like he’s trying to wrap his head around the absurd thought.

“Yeah, my friend, or… something like that,” Emma responds, fighting the smirk that threatens to make an appearance.

“When did this happen?” Mary Margaret asks.

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, somewhat lying. “He helped us out a lot when… with Henry.” He looks up at the mention of his name and smiles softly at her.

“Yeah, and let me sleep in his room.”

“Yeah. And he didn’t have to help us. He showed us around the whole island. He saved David. He helped with Neal. He got us off the island.”

“I guess,” Mary Margaret says tentatively.

“But he’s a pirate,” David interjects. Emma rolls her eyes.

“And you were a shepherd. And Mary Margaret was a bandit. And I was in prison. We all have a past, so what? You don’t have to chastise him for his when he’s been nothing but helpful and kind since we left for Neverland.”

“But are we sure that his past is truly in his past, Emma?” David asks, and why won’t he just stop?

“You might not be, but I sure am!” she brushes past everyone, walking towards the bathroom and slamming the door. She doesn’t know when she regressed into teenage-hood, throwing tantrums when her parents disagree with her over a guy.

“Is she alright?” she hears Henry ask, and shit, now she’s made her kid worried over her.

“I think she’s just not feeling well, Henry,” her mother responds.

“Is Captain Hook really coming tonight?”

“I guess so…”

“I don’t know if there’s room at the table for his huge ego,” her father says, and she can hear the sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“David,” Mary Margaret starts. “If Emma says he’s her friend… I mean, it is her birthday.”

“You're right, you're right. I just don’t understand why she would want the pirate at her birthday dinner.”

She isn’t sure how much longer she can stay hidden in the bathroom, especially when she wants to burst out the door and start yelling at everyone again, so she splashes her face with water, takes a deep breath to try and ground herself, and opens the door.

“You would all do well to remember that Hook is the reason that we got to and from Neverland in the first place. He didn’t know Henry got taken when he left, and he made the decision to come back on his own. He even took us to Neverland, a place he despises, and helped us get him back. If he wasn’t there, we… we wouldn’t have succeeded. And I just think everyone should remember that before passing judgement on who he was in his past.”

If her father wanted to make a comment about Hook’s past not being very far behind him, the face she shoots at him quiets him.

~~~~

Her mood does not improve as the night goes on. Regina does end up coming, and although Mary Margaret says it’s for Henry’s benefit, Emma wonders what she ever did to deserve the snarky remarks and judgmental looks.

When Neal arrives, he hugs her, and she returns it with one arm. He gives her kitschy silver bracelet with an E pendant dangling from it and she plasters on a fake smile, thanking him and putting it on her left wrist. Her skin is starting to turn green after 20 minutes.

Granny and Ruby come next, Ashley close behind, and each give her a big hug and wish her a happy birthday. Granny makes a comment about them not having any emergencies lately, and everyone finds a piece of wood to knock on. Ashley goes to the kitchen with Mary Margaret and asks if she can help with anything before being assigned salad duty.

When Killian arrives, it’s David who answers the door, and Emma remembers the last time he stood in this doorway with David in front of him. When she looks over, she sees that rather than wearing his huge coat, he’s sporting a much more modern leather jacket that lands just above his hips, along with a pair of black jeans. She thinks she starts sweating.

“Hook,” David says tightly.

“David,” he replies.

Emma stands from the bar stool she perched herself at in an effort to get away from Neal earlier and walks to the door, practically shoving her father out of the way and facing Killian.

“Hi,” she says with a smile, perhaps her first of the day.

“Happy birthday, love,” he says, handing her a big bouquet of flowers that he was hiding behind his back.

“Wow,” she says, taking the bouquet in her hands and drawing it up to her nose to inhale the scent of the beautiful arrangement of fall colors. Their fragrance is mild and fresh. “They’re beautiful, thank you.”

She thinks the entire loft has fallen silent and everyone is looking at them, but she hardly cares. She’s sort of surprised that he even came, so she’s completely shocked that he brought her something. She shoots him another smile from behind the flowers and spins around, heading for the kitchen to find a vase.

“Hi, Hook,” she hears Henry say, and she smiles again. Leave it to her kid to be the most mature adult in the room.

“Hello lad.” She allows the rest of their conversation to fade from her attention as she pulls a vase down from a shelf, maneuvering her way around Ashley, and fills it with water.

“Those are beautiful Emma!” her mother says, grabbing a pair of scissors and picking up the bouquet before cutting off the ends of the stems. “Are they from Neal?”

Emma wants so badly to ignore her, but she doesn’t have to when she sees Killian and Neal talking and her heart jumps to her throat. She’s about to go over to them and put out whatever fire was just started, but when she sees a small smile gracing Killian’s face and Neal nodding, she feels her heartrate go down slightly. Despite how horribly the interaction could go, everything seems to be going well so far.

When Mary Margaret calls everyone to the table, Emma feels isolated despite being sat next to Henry. He’s sitting next to Regina and is deep in conversation with her about a movie they just watched, and far be it for Emma to get in the way of their improving relationship. To her right side is Neal, who keeps trying to talk to her while also weirdly flirting with her mother. Both Mary Margaret and David hang on his every word, and it drives Emma absolutely mad.

Killian is next to Granny, across the table and to her right, and Emma thinks that the arrangement can’t be coincidental. There’s no doubt in her mind that Mary Margaret sat them next to each other because she’s relying on Granny to draw out her crossbow and shoot him square in the chest should the need arise or the royal decree be avowed.

Mary Margaret brings the salad to the table and Emma serves herself, and once she pours the Italian dressing into her bowl, she fights the urge to jump from the table and run to the bathroom and be sick purely from the smell. No one seems to notice that she isn’t touching her salad, luckily.

David pours Emma a glass of rancid-smelling chardonnay that she stares at all evening.

Everyone is deep in conversation, and even Killian seems to be engrossed talking to Ashley about Alexandra’s milestones. When the spaghetti and meatballs are brought to the table, she grabs a serving and thinks she’ll be alright when she starts eating, but nearly gets sick after a bite. She sticks to bread throughout the meal and doesn’t think that anyone notices her pushing her food around her plate with her fork like a 4-year-old.

When dinner is over, Killian stands before Mary Margaret has a chance to and begins collecting everyone’s plates.

Once the table is cleared, dishes scraped into the garbage and stacked neatly in a sink filled with warm soapy water, David shuts off the lights and Mary Margaret carries out a cake covered in exactly 29 flaming birthday candles. She slowly and ceremoniously starts singing the first half of the word happy and everyone immediately joins in, and Emma can’t fight the grin that splits her face. She almost makes it through the song before she feels tears falling from her eyes and onto her cheeks at the realization that this is the first birthday that she’s ever spent with her whole family. Then she realizes that her last birthday was the first time she met Henry, and her life changed forever. She’s drawn from her sappy thoughts when she sees Neal reaching for her face to wipe her tears and her knee-jerk reaction is to recoil from his touch.

She blows out her candles, thinking about the last time she made a wish and the fact that it came true, and hopes for a happy ending.

She can’t stomach the cake.

~~~~

When the night ends, after she watches Killian wash all of the dishes while everyone else sits talking at the table, she walks him out of the apartment and down to the street. Henry has gone home with Regina for the night, and everyone else is still talking loudly over their coffee, so she slips out relatively unnoticed.

“You really didn’t have to do the dishes, you know,” she says with a smile as they make their way down the stairs.

“Seemed like the honorable thing to do,” he jests.

“And you are a man of honor, aren’t you?”

“Aye, that’s right, love. And don’t you forget it.”

“I won’t, I haven’t.” She feels the conversation shift more seriously and smiles again.

Once they’re outside, he turns to face her and his smile falters. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You hardly touched your dinner, love. You only ate bread. I thought you said your mother was making your favorite meal?” He brushes some hair away from her eyes and behind her ear softly as he speaks, and once he drops his hand, she takes it in hers.

“I’m fine. I might just be coming down with something.”

“And you were crying during the song,” he says, and she realizes he probably had no idea what was happening at that point in the evening. “Was it supposed to be a sad song? It sounded rather upbeat.”

She grins at him, in disbelief at his inexperience in the modern world. “No, I just realized… I don’t know, I guess I just got a little emotional. It was… this was the first time I’ve ever spent my birthday with my family. Aside from when Henry got me last year.”

He nods and smiles softly at her. Then his hand leaves hers and he reaches into his coat, pulling out a tiny box. “I didn’t want to give you this in front of everyone,” he rationalizes.

She takes the black velvet box from him, staring at him and then prying it open. Inside is a delicate silver chain holding six small diamonds arranged in a V shape, with a slightly larger green gemstone sat in the bottom center of them. She thinks it must be real silver and real diamonds based on the amount of shine beaming off of the stunning piece of jewelry.

He must be able to read the confused but astonished look on her face, because he jumps in to explain immediately. “This one is peridot,” he says, pointing to the vivid green stone. “It’s Henry’s birthstone. And it… it matches your eyes.” His soft voice catches, and she realizes that he’s nervous.

For the second time in a very short period, she feels tears pricking her eyes and is hardly capable of holding in her emotions. “It’s so beautiful,” she whispers meekly, her voice shaking as she’s unable to look at him in his eyes. She feels him reaching up and wiping her tears and she rests her cheek against his hand. “How did you get it in such a short time?” This isn’t just some random necklace he found at Target.

“A gentleman never reveals his secrets, darling,” he says with a tender smile as his thumb wipes away another tear.

“Can you help me put it on?” she sniffles.

“Aye,” he answers, taking it from her as she spins and moves her hair out of his way. She holds the end with the small metal loop as he clasps it closed and presses a soft kiss to the skin under the chain.

When she turns around again, she kisses him, unable to stop herself and unable to stop the tears from falling from her eyes. She’s probably snotty too, considering the fact that she’s basically full-on crying now, but she honestly doesn’t care because he’s kissing her back with such passion and adoration that she thinks she might explode.

Her fingers find their home in his hair and he’s cupping her cheek as he uses his hook arm and pulls her closer, pressing her back lightly against the brick exterior of the building. His thumb runs along her jawline and his fingers find their way into her hair, caressing her scalp comfortingly.

She just starts to think that they should stop, that she’s been gone for too long and someone will become curious, when she hears the door open and shut to her left. She doesn’t pull away quickly enough, though.

“Emma, are you—oh.” Shit. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to... um… interrupt. I just wanted to say goodbye and wish you a happy birthday. Granny’s on her way down.”

“Thanks, Ruby. And thanks for coming,” Emma responds shakily, conveniently ignoring the fact that she was just caught making out with Killian.

He took his hand off her the second they heard Ruby’s voice and stepped back from her once she rounded the corning, but she knows that they weren’t discreet enough and that they’ve just been caught in the act.

“Of course, dinner was delicious!”

“Yeah, it was.”

“Oh, and Emma?”

“Yeah?”

“Your little secret is safe with me,” she says with a wink and a smirk that could rival Killian’s.

When Emma gets back to the loft, she’s sweaty and her eyes feel swollen, and despite the fact that Ruby just walked in on them, she feels happier than she has all evening. The necklace Killian gave her is absolutely stunning, and she tucked it safely beneath her sweater on her way up the stairs. Aside from its obvious beauty, she can’t get over the thoughtfulness behind the gift. Not only did he get her a gift, he got her something so much more personal than she ever could have imagined. More personal than anything she’s ever received before.

Once she’s in the loft with the door clicking shut behind her, she sees that Neal has overindulged on the wine and is now drunk.

“Ems! You're back! What took so long?” he slurs.

“Uh, I was saying bye to Ruby and Granny,” she fibs, although it’s not altogether untrue.

“I should actually be going, too. Thank you for dinner, Snow,” Ashley says, reaching in for a hug.

“Oh, it was so nice seeing you! We should get together more often!”

“Definitely,” she replies with a smile before turning to Emma. “Happy birthday, Emma, I’m so glad you had a nice evening!”

“Thanks for coming Ashley,” she says, hugging her as well.

Once she’s gone, Mary Margaret and David go back into the kitchen to finish putting away the dishes and Emma sits on the couch before Neal plops himself down next to her.

“I’m glad you had a good night, Em,” he says, leaning close to her as she stiffens.

“Yeah, it was nice getting everyone together.”

“Hey, how come Hook was here, anyway?” His voice is loud and his tone is slightly accusatory, and she feels that twinge of irritation that she’s grown all too accustomed to in the last week or so.

“Because I invited him,” she practically spits back, sitting forward as he lifts his arm over the back of the couch.

“Why would you do a thing like that?”

“Because he’s my friend and I wanted my friend to come to my damn birthday dinner, is that alright with you?” She certainly doesn’t have to raise her voice as him, but it's difficult not to at this point.

“No, I just didn’t know you and Hook were friends. I thought he was gonna back off.”

Here he goes, she thinks. Her eyes find their usual spot in the back of her head. “Maybe you should go before you say something you regret,” she says softly to disguise her anger.

“Emma, I was just thinking maybe you should walk Neal home? To make sure he gets home safely? Someone’s had a bit too much wine,” Mary Margaret interrupts with a knowing smile shot Neal’s way.

“Then David has to come with me,” She shoots back. “I can’t exactly support his weight if he topples over.”

“Happily!” David says, and the fact that Emma’s parents are obsessed with Neal just continues to piss her off.

Once they get him to Granny’s, David decides to wait outside so that Emma can say goodnight, David’s words. If Emma thought she was nauseous and had a headache before…

“Thanks for getting me home safe, Ems,” Neal says with a flirty voice, swaying into his room and coming dangerously close to falling straight to the floor.

“Yeah, goodnight,” she says as she tries to back out of the room, but he quickly grabs her hand and pulls her into his grasp against him, her arms pinned between their chests. “Neal—”

“Come on, Emma, what’s holding you back? We’ve been dancing around this for weeks, let’s just make it happen.”

“Nothing is gonna happen, Neal, let me go,” she says, pushing against his chest but somehow, even in his drunken state, he’s surprisingly solid.

“What, because of the pirate? He said he would back off and give us a chance. Let’s just take it,” he says, and he’s backing up and dragging her along with him before they tumble onto his squeaky bed with her landing on top of him. Despite her best efforts to push him away, his grip remains strong and he shoves his face to hers, making the slightest contact between their mouths.

“Stop!” she shouts, finally shoving her way out of his grasp, while possibly doing some damage to his internal organs, and standing. “Hook isn’t what’s standing in your way! When are you gonna get it through your thick skull that we are never going to work? We will never be together, Neal!”

Her shouts fall on deaf ears, literally, because the bastard has fallen asleep.

With tears in her eyes, again, she flees from his room and takes a moment to breathe outside the door before walking to the stairs to meet David and head back to the loft.

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trashboatprince · 4 years

Text

I’m working on a main story for my Reverse Omens au, but for right now, I really wanted to do something with Aziraphale the Demon opening up his shop.

So, here’s a little something while I work on the main story for Sour Blessings. I had to do a bit of research for this, so you’re welcome.

Summery: The opening for A.Z. Fell’s Antiquities and More is on Friday, however, the demon Aziraphale may have to put that opening on hold, indefinitely, due to an unexpected promotion.

Not if the angel Crowley has anything to say about it!

Warning: Reverse Omens, the other demons and angels are not swapped, these two fools are in love but they won’t admit it so it’s getting the ship tag.

Aziraphale (formally Azrafel) is a half-deaf, white cat demon, Crowley (formally Samael) is a rainbow boa angel and the one who tempted Eve (There is a reason for this!).

Rewrite of the infamous Bookshop deleted scene.

On with the fic!

Can’t Have That Now, Can We?

Aziraphale, formally known as the demon Azrafel until he stole back his original name, was more excited than he had been in years.

Finally, after so many hiccups, missions, and simply being absentminded about his goal, he was opening up his shop! Well, not officially, he planned on being open to the public on Friday, but he was allowing for guests today!

So far, the only person invited is his dear angel, Crowley, who he knows will be here promptly at a quarter past eleven, the redhead was also so good with time.

Proudly, Aziraphale looked up at the sign that had just been installed this morning. A. Z. Fell’s Antiquities and More, it read with a shine of silver paint on a dark blue background. It was beautifully fitting for the man-shaped being, fitting his color aesthetics. He practically purred in delight as he stepped through the doors, happily hearing a jingle of a bell above his head.

The demon hummed to himself a song from an opera he had attended a few days ago, carefully lining up some of his collection he had noticed he bumped out of place. His shop was going to house his massive collection of antiques, a term he had adored using for the collection since it was first coined during the 1400’s in references to ancient artifacts.

He finally had a place for all his stuff, things he had hidden all over the world, bought, traded, stolen, made himself, gifts from his favorite snake, all in one place now! Sure, it took him centuries to finally settle down, but 1831 was a good enough time, right?

Well, there had been an attempt a few centuries ago, back in the 1500’s, but it had been a bookshop next to a printing shop that had printed a book he really had wanted, but a mission to China had prevented that. And had also resulted in him not paying rent on the shop and having gotten in trouble with Hell for something stupid, he couldn’t pay the rent and lost the first shop.

Anyway, he happily likes to forget that happened and has instead tried again! Same location too, second time’s the charm!

Aziraphale wasn’t finished setting up though, he still had more stuff in storage that he needed to bring in, but his angel had said he’d help up with bringing that in. He wouldn’t help with the organizing though; Crowley knew from experience that Aziraphale had a way of organizing his clutter in a way that worked for the cat. Especially when it came to certain collections, like his massive library and his collection of rare snuff boxes.

As he carefully aligned a bronze statue of a rather specifically detailed and accurate horse he got as a joke gift from Crowley, he heard the jingle of the bell above his front door. He cupped his hand over his left ear, trying to hear who it was, couldn’t be Crowley, it was too early still.

Then he smelled the scent of festering mold and swamp scum, along with other unpleasant things, and he felt his skin prickle.

With a held back sigh, Aziraphale put a fake smile on his face, turning to face his fellow demons, hoping his beard hid the fact that his mouth twitched. “Hastur, Ligur, to what do I owe the pleasure of two Dukes of Hell in my shop?”

The two demons stood by the open doors, dressed in rather shoddy clothing, meant more for the lower class than the higher, as Aziraphale himself was dressed to blend in with. However, it was good to note that this time they actually wore clothing that would help them blend in, rather than how they dressed the last time they ‘visited’ Aziraphale. He would never forget those sins against nature.

Neither of them smiled, they just stared, before Hastur stepped forward. “We’ve orders from Below for you.” He ground out, making Aziraphale raise an eyebrow.

“Orders? Strange, normally Hell just burns a message in one of my books or screams at me from an envelope nowadays, don’t usually send messengers to tell me what my next job is.

“It’s not really… orders.” Ligur spoke up, waving a hand, completely bored of this already. “’s more like you’re getting somethin’.”

Aziraphale blinked, cupping a hand over his ear again. “Come again?”

Hastur made a face. “Think of it as… bad news, but not really bad news, more like good news, but we can’t say that shit, so it’s bad news, but not that bad-”

“I… I got it.” The cat sighed, holding up a hand. “Is it about the second revolution in France?” He had sent in a wordy letter to Hell about how he had helped kickstarted that event, even though he hadn’t actually done so. He and Crowley had taken a trip to the south of France and got dreadfully wasted and somehow ended up on the Isle of Capri.

“More like a bunch of things you’ve done, Azrafel.” The chameleon demon spoke and ignored the face Aziraphale pulled, hearing his old name. It has been centuries, and no one cared that he stole back his angel name, they just ignored him, thinking he was edgy or something. “Apparently, you’ve done your job to such extremes that Hell is oddly impressed.”

This can’t be good.

“And because of this, you’re going down to Hell, promotin’ you back to Downstairs. Heard you might get a cushy job runnin’ the torture department, lucky bastard.”

Aziraphale blinked, trying to register what this meant. “But… I’m opening this antique shop on Friday. If Master Hatchard can make a go of it, then I think I can really…”

“Hm,” Hastur pondered for a moment, “actually, I think that’s an idea, whoever replaces you up here can use this place as a base of operations.”

This got a look of disgust from the cat demon. “Use my shop?” The nerve! No one was allowed to use his shop; this was for him! And maybe Crowley, because he knows that wily angel will also laze about wherever Aziraphale is staying.

Neither demon seemed to give two shits about what Aziraphale thought of this. “You’re bein’ promoted,” the frog demon shrugged, “you get to go back home.”

“Can’t imagine why anyone who wanna spend more than five minutes on this waste of space.” Ligur commented, look at a bell jar on a shelf, containing a taxidermized scene of insects dancing at a ball. The chameleon on his head licked its lips.

“Azrafel’s been on this shithole for almost six thousand years,” his companion replied, “that’s some impressive patience, I can’t stand doin’ tasks up here that take longer than a day. Just plant bad ideas in a human’s head and let ‘em do all the work. Still, gotta give kudos where kudos is due…”

He dug into the pocket of his grubby coat, pulling out a box, covered in stains that Aziraphale really didn’t want to know the origins of. “Apparently, this is for all your bad work.” He said in a tone that clearly didn’t hide his jealousy and bitterness.

Hastur opened the box and Aziraphale stared at a rather lovely, shiny medal. He had seen this kind before, proudly worn by members of the Dark Council.

When they said he was being promoted… oh, oh bugger, this was a Promotion.

“I don’t want it.” Aziraphale spoke without much thought. He glanced up and nearly screamed, because right behind Hastur and Ligur, was a redheaded angel, giving a cheery wave.

The grandfather clock off to the left happily showed that it was exactly a quarter past eleven in the morning. It was the worst possible time for Crowley to show up.

With a skip in his snake-skinned step, Crowley turned a corner down a street in Soho, a box of the finest chocolates under his arm. He had dolled himself up for today, putting on his finest dark gray suit, his pink shirt clear and ironed, and a new hat sat happily on his head, decorated with a gold-plated apple blossom.

It was over-the-top, but the snake-eyed angel was known for being flashy and showboat-y with his appearance.

He spotted the shop at the corner and picked up the pace, mentally counting down the seconds. He loved being exactly on time, but he also loved putting Aziraphale on edge when he was a few minutes late.

Crowley got right up the steps at exactly 11:15, noticing that not only were the doors opened, but two figures were standing in the doorway, with Aziraphale stared past them. And right at Crowley, with a look the screamed ‘oh bugger’.

The demon licked his lips, stammering as he tried to speak to the two strangers, who Crowley hadn’t quite realized were demons. “B-But only I can properly thwart the good deeds of the angel Cr-Samael!”

Crowley stopped smiling, tilting his head, eyebrow raising over his dark shades. He held up the package, smiling, and mouthed ‘chocolates’ at his best friend.

“I don’t doubt that,” the blond-haired demon spoke, “whoever replaces you will be as bad an enemy to Samael as you are. Baphomet, maybe.”

The angel looked horrified and disgusted. He looked towards Aziraphale and mouthed ‘Baphomet?! Baphomet’s a wanker!’ The gray-haired demon shifted on his feet, trying to ignore Crowley to not draw attention to him.

“Samael’s been here just as long as I have, and he’s wily! And cunning, and brilliant, and oh…” Aziraphale was a bit flushed in the face and Crowley perked up, smiling brightly.

“It almost sounds like you like him.” Hastur spoke in a tone that was clearly not pleased with this.

“I loathe him!” Aziraphale shouted, though his face still burned red. “And, despite myself, I respect a worthy opponent! Which he isn’t because he’s an angel, and I cannot respect a demon. Or like one!” He tacked on quickly.

Hastur actually smirked, crossing his arms. “That’s the attitude that Hell likes to hear. I can see why they’re bringin’ you back.” He stepped forward, pinning the medal to Aziraphale’s dress jacket, the shorter man holding his breath at the bad smell coming off of Hastur. A quick glance over the other’s shoulder let Aziraphale know that Crowley was out of sight, hopefully he knew to stay away until these two were gone.

“So…” Aziraphale started, “we’re going straight back, now? Before the grand opening?”

“Ehh… soon.” Hastur waved a hand. “Got a job to do, then we’ll be back for you.”

The job was a simple corruption on, convince a human in charge of a respectable pub to take in bribes, sell illegal content under the counter, and convert his pub into a drug den in later years, that should do the trick.

And to help with that, they decide to plant things in the backroom of the pub for the owner to find, miracled with a temptation to put the pieces together. Ligur stood outside the backroom’s door while Hastur moved to remove the contents of his pockets in the room.

He pauses, however, hearing voices outside of an open window.

“Are you certain that we are unobserved,” it was the voice of the angel Samael, “of glorious being of God’s divine will?”

There was a strange, echoing voice that followed right after, layered as if multiple voices spoke at once. “No one is listening, oh angel Samael, the Lefthand of God.”

Blinking, Hastur steps onto a crate under the window and, using his true eyes, peeks out the window, only the top of the head of his frog looking into the alley behind the pub. He could see Crowley, standing before a cloaked figure in white, the latter having their back turned to the window. He slipped down a bit to not be seen, but still remained close to hear.

“Curses.” The angel hissed. “If only I could understand why my blessed plans are always so brilliantly thwarted! It’s as if the forces of Hell have a champion here on Earth who contaminates my blessings! Who overlaps their own dark influences on my own good ones! Who thwarts me… thwartingly…”

Unbeknownst to the demon on the other side of the wall, the cloaked figure that Crowley was speaking to was actually just a tailor’s dummy from the tailor shop just next door. Crowley was practically tickle-me-pink with delight of how much fun it was doing this. He absolutely loved when he got to flex his acting skills.

He continued the act, putting on the heavenly voice once more. “Why, Mister Crowley, you must not be downcast. I hear news that will bring joy to you and all the powers of Heaven! They do say as how the demon Azrafel, your nemesis, is being sent back to Hell!”

Crowley knew he was acting slightly to broadly, but it was the style of the time, so it was necessary.

“Can this be true?” He continued in his normal voice. “I was going to throw myself into a pit of Hell Fire in my despair at once more being beaten by the demon Azrafel! But such excellent news! Only Azrafel knows my ways well enough to…”

“Thwart them?”

“Exactly. Now, let us retire to church, and pray to the success of good on this Earth, thanks to Hell’s foolishness!”

Hastur heard the other walking off before he moved out of the room, well, he might have to have a conversation with Aziraphale it seems.

“So, I’m… not going anywhere?” Aziraphale asked, mismatched eyes staring at the two other demons, the pupils growing with possible hope.

“Change of plans.” Hastur grumbled. “We need you here, in this shop, battling good.”

Ligur slapped the Aziraphale on the back a few times, nearly knocking him over. “Carry on battlin’ that pain in the ass angel. I’m sure Hell’ll understand that you’re needed here more than down there.”

“Keep the metal.” Hastur poked at it against Aziraphale’s chest, making him wince at the pressure of the jab.

“But I don’t understand…” The cat demon blinked, suddenly realizing he was all alone in the shop now, the scent of sulfur starting to mellow out. With a snap of his fingers, the shop suddenly smelled of flowers, thanks to the lovely potted plant that just showed up next to him.

With a heavy sigh, he shook his head, moving around a shelf to try and return to his previous task of worryingly set up his collection.

“Well, that was fun.”

Aziraphale yelped, jumping a foot in the air as his hair and beard puffed up from the shock. He turned, finding a certain angel, basking happily in a chair that had been swiped from the King of Spain in the late 1300’s. “Crowley… w-what are you doing here?” He asked, approaching the redhead, who just smiled, holding up the box of chocolates from behind.

Aziraphale chirped in joy, taking the box. “Oh, yes, thank you, darling!”

“’s nothin’, kitty cat. I think you deserve them now than you did before those two idiots showed up.”

“How… much of that did you see?”

Crowley shrugged before getting out of the chair, stretching. “Well, I arrived to see that you were stuck dealin’ with two idiots, and that you needed help. So, I may or may not have helped you out of a bit of trouble, again. Nice medal, the Dark Council kind? Wow, that’s a hell of a promotion, kitty cat.”

Aziraphale frowned and removed the metal from his jacket, tossing it towards Crowley, who caught it with ease. “I’ve done so well at my job that I was promoted to join them! I mean, it’s not the worst promotion I could get, in fact, any demon would give up their whole… well… everything to be part of that group! But I must admit, it would be too much, I’d be allowed to do whatever, but I wouldn’t be able to work and stay on Earth.”

“Sounds like a shit job to take, Aziraphale.” Crowley commented, looking over the metal before dropping it into a clay pot. “But hey, you get to stay here!”

“For some reason…” Cat eyes turned, staring directly at snake ones, hidden behind dark lenses. “What did you do?”

Crowley grinned brightly. “Oh, just pulled off some theatrics.” He wiggled his fingers and Aziraphale groaned. “I told you I was good at this! I should join a theater, get my name out there! I’ll even do those boring, sad Shakespearean plays you like so much!”

“Uhg.” Aziraphale rolled his eyes before looking at Crowley, smiling. “Still, thank you for helping me today, darling. Now, how about the two of us enjoy this delectable box of goodies you got me, I have a lovely red that we can drink alongside them in the back, found it while bringing things in the other day.”

“Sounds delightful, kitty cat.”

END

Well, this was a lot of fun to write!

In case you wanna know what they look like, Aziraphale looks like Martin from Prodigal Son (except well dressed in a light gray and dark blue Regency outfit), and Crowley looks like David’s portrayal of Richard II (in a dark gray and pink Regency outfit).

Hastur and Ligur look like characters from Oliver Twist haha.

In case anyone was wondering why Aziraphale owns an antique shop, it was because as much as I love the bookshop still being part of a Reverse Omens au, I also really loved the idea of going off the little fact that book Aziraphale also collects old snuff boxes and it went from there that he just collects all sorts of things.

Oh, and Hastur left Aziraphale on Earth cause if he's really the only one who can 'stop' the Heavenly might of Samael, the angel with the title of Destroyer, well... yeah, might as well leave him to deal with that mess.

Thanks for reading! As always, drabbles are open!

#good omens #reverse omens #aziraphale #anthony j crowley #ineffable husbands #hastur #ligur #john's drabbles

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welcometoclass1ahell · 4 years

Text

Notebook Shocker: Mafia!Kaminari x Quirkless!Fem!Reader

Bruh its like 6am. I started this at 1am. Idk how writers do it. im drained af and probably spelt shit wrong but thats what edits are foooor.

Mafia!Kaminari x Quirkless!Fem!Reader

Warnings: A lil torture, violence, and mafia stuffff

Plot : A certain mobster had caught you stealing

Word Count: 5.8k

“What do you mean….someone took it?” Deku groaned in annoyance, fiddling with a pen behind his desk. His green eyes scanned over Kaminari’s sheepish stance, “That notebook has a lot of intel, if that gets in the wrong hands I won’t know what I’m going to do to you,” Deku continued, a sharp glare adding to the threat.

“I know, I know! Don’t worry about it boss, I’m gonna get it back. I saw who took it,” Kaminari explained, “I just wanted to let you know, I can track her down. How far can a little girly get?” He grinned as he rubbed the back of his neck. He knew he pissed off Deku but in a way he wasn’t too concerned yet. He just had to get that notebook back, and that would mean having a little chase with the girl who he saw last night.

“I don’t care who has it or how you get it back. I want that notebook, and bring her too! I wanna know who’s after it,” Deku ordered before waving his hand to dismiss him.

Giving a small head bow, Kaminari excused himself to go save that notebook. He didn’t know what was in there, but he knew it had to be important to rile up his boss that much. Walking down the halls of the hideout, he quickly made his way to the dinning hall where he knew his friends would be. Not minding the few bodyguards who nodded his way, Kaminiari pushed open the tall doors to the grand room and smiled over to his pals, Kirishima and Mina. “Guys! I may or may not have gotten myself into a bit of a situation,” He chuckled and took a seat at one of the seats across from them.

“What did you get yourself into this time bro?” Kirishima smirked looking up from the playing cards as Mina also took interest in the conversation. “I lost the notebook, the one Deku wanted,” He started which had already caused a worried look onto the duo’s faces across from him.

“Dude not cool, that had all the intel on certain politicians,” Kirishima sat up straighter, “Yeah, wasn’t Deku going to use that to bribe one of them to fund us?” Mina added into which Kaminari froze up.

“Wait, that notebook? Why would he make me in charge of that? Why not Todoroki or Bakugo?” Kaminari whined realizing how much worse this situation was and put his head to the table letting out an annoyed groan.

“Because they aren’t here at the moment! Duh! He sent them to go do something else like a week ago? You’re so daft Kami!” Mina teased but she looked a little worried for her friend who was now toying with the dinning cloth on the table.

“Let’s go, Kaminari, I’ll help you,” Kirishima began, to which Kaminari lifted his head with a relieved grin,”Really? Aw you’re the best,” The blonde responded happily and stood up with hope in his eyes. He did not want to stall much longer knowing Deku would lose it if he was still here and not out looking for that book.

“Good luck guys! Just remember to stay low! Deku doesn’t want any more loud operations! He’s still fixing the last screw up,” She reminded them. The boys simply nodded giving her a quick goodbye before heading out quickly to their cars.

---------------------

Gripping onto the notebook tightly which you had stolen last night, you sat on your couch eyeing the cover of the simple black book. It was a simple job really, but something felt off. It was too simple. You weren’t a rookie when it came to stealing things, petty robbery and pickpocketing being your job after all, but you weren’t a professional. So why did someone like Shigaraki have you do a job for him.

He hadn’t even asked you himself. One of his henchmen had asked you if you were interested in a job.

“It’s a quick and easy task! Just pop right in and grab a notebook, that’s all we need,” The man who introduced himself as Mr. Compress explained. “We just need someone with not much background, someone who doesn’t look suspicious,” He added on when you had asked why they wanted someone like you to do the job when they had many capable people of their own. “We will pay half now, half later,” Was the final deal breaker.

Surely you could have refused something like this but when he had pulled out a few wads of cash, your eyes had grown big at the sight and agreed. He wasn’t lying about it being easy either. You dressed fairly casual that night and went to the location he gave you. It was a small apartment building tucked away at the end of the big city with not many people around either. It was perfect.

You managed to climb up the building’s fire escape and perched yourself carefully onto the railing of the outside door to the apartment number. The lights were out and it was silent as well. Quickly grabbing the lockpicks tool out from your back pocket, you made easy work of the sliding glass door before letting yourself inside the home.

“Whoever must live here must be whack,” Were the first words to leave your lips as you looked around at the decorations and trinkets.It wasn’t fairly messy but there was nothing that matched. It just looked like a collection of things spewed out here and there. Quickly getting to work, you started rummaging through the living room, but only found video games, weed, and instant meal packages here and there. Letting out a huff, you made your way to the bedroom and started pulling out drawers, digging through the closet, and finally lifting the bed sheets and mattress to the side to find a small black notebook tied to a shoebox.

“Found you,” You sighed in relief, “Was about to think you weren’t here,”. Untying it from the shoebox, you straightened yourself out before you heard the keys rattling and the doorknob jiggling from the front room. “Shit!” You cursed and quickly looked to his bedroom window. Rushing over to it, you unlocked it with a click, looking down to see that there was a little balcony below you.

“Hello?” You heard from the front room, a concerned male’s voice as footsteps got closer to the bedroom you didn’t have the time to think or look back as you made the decision to jump down, landing with a bit of a thud against the metal flooring before jumping down from that balcony as well. It was a lie to say it didn’t hurt the soles of your feet.

“Hey! Get back here girly!” Was all you heard from him before you took off running, the sound of something hitting the ground with a zap behind you causing the adrenaline to push you to run faster.

You hadn’t stopped running until you were met with a semi busy street, the nightlife letting you blend in with the crowd. You had managed to get the notebook and yourself out of there in one piece. It’s how you got here, back to your home unaware of the golden eyes that had trailed you back to your street.

Looking down at the notebook, you carefully opened it and skimmed through it, famous names and politicians you recognized with dirty secrets scribbled onto the side of the names. “Wow,” You breathed out before an uneasy feeling settled into your stomach. There was a lot in this book, a lot of information anyone in the deeper side of things would love to have. Yet here you were, something that could change a lot in the public's eye of view, resting in the palms of your hands. What made it worse was you were told to hold onto it till someone named Dabi was going to pick it up from you. Standing up, you looked around your apartment scanning for a place to hide this.

Deciding to put it into a cereal box for now, you went to go take a shower and call it for tonight. You were far too drained to do anything else but that.

The next few days you took it easy, leaving every now and then to get groceries or get a coffee at the nearby cafe, doing your best to keep an eye out on anything that would make you feel unsafe or alerted.

------------

“Come on Kami, you have to be sure,” Kirishima muttered as they stayed low in a stolen car, parked outside the apartments in which you lived. “I’m pretty sure that’s her, same hair, same face,” Kaminari eyed the building watching as you returned from the store again,”Clueless little thing huh? I don’t even recognize her from anywhere, she doesn’t even seem like the type to do anything like breaking into houses,” He spewed on watching as you swayed your hips up the stairs to your own little home,”She’s a cutie though,”

“Yeah, but that cutie has something important. You’re right though, I haven’t seen her around, wonder how she knew about the notebook,” Kirishima mused before grabbing his gun, making sure it was loaded just in case before cocking it,”You sure we need that?” Kaminari asked to which Kirishima looked up at the apartments through the window.

“I hope not, but we don’t know her quirk or if she’s even alone up there,” the redhead responded with hesitation. He didn’t want to hurt her, just scare her enough to get what they want. “But you know what you’re gonna have to do. I’m just here for backup, this is your mistake bro,” kaminari only huffed back at his friend but nodded. Getting out of the car, the duo quickly made their way up the stairs and to the door they saw you vanish through. Reaching for the doorknob, Kaminari gave it a small tug and to his disappointment it was locked. Giving a look to Kirishima, the blonde gave a nod before knocking on the door.

Hearing you scuffle behind the door, his chest felt like it was going to explode when he heard the soft and sweet,”Hello?” come from inside. “We got a delivery for you!” He responded. Kirishima nudged his shoulder giving him a questioning, ‘What the fuck?’ look but when they both heard the door unlock, then quickly focused back to it.

Wasting no time, Kaminari rushed in grabbing you by the arm, his other hand flying to your mouth as he gave you a stern warning look as Kirishima followed inside, closing the door behind him with his foot. Drawing the gun just in case, Kirishima eyed the apartment before looking back at you and Kaminari.

The blonde knew you were in shock, your eyes wide as if you were a deer in headlights but tears quickly prickled at the corners of your eyes as he saw you eye the gun. “Hey, hey, shhh don’t cry it’s okay. Don’t scream or struggle, he won’t use it I promise,” Kaminari cooed, keeping a tight hold of you regardless. Little zaps sprung from his fingertips to show you that while he was talking sweet, he wasn’t going to let you try anything. Walking backwards towards your couch, he slowly removed his hand from your mouth,”Please...don’t hurt me,” You whispered out as you looked up at them. Kaminari would’ve felt more bad if it weren’t for the fact that you had stolen the notebook he was supposed to be keeping. He had to admit though, your wide eyes looking up at him like that made him feel something in his chest.

“Won’t have to if you give back that notebook you stole, baby, just tell us where it is and it’ll make this much easier,” He said sweetly to you and pushed you into the couch, having you fall back onto the cushions. Looking down at you as you pushed yourself further into the couch to try and keep some distance from him had him smirk with a bit of pride. He may be relaxed with his friends but man oh man if he didn’t look scary when he wanted to.

“I don’t know what youre talking about,” You tried to play off, to his disliking. He really didn’t want to have to hurt such a pretty woman like you but damn it if you didn’t spill it out he’d be forced to.

“Lying isn’t pretty you know,” Kaminari cooly muttered before lifting his hand up,”Search for it,” He said over his shoulder to which Kirishima started to go through your things. “I saw you taking it from my home, going through a man’s bedroom isn’t nice,” he continued in a teasing tone as he lowered himself so he was perched on his heels so he could look straight at you. Taking his hand he placed it on your leg causing you to tense up with worry. Watching you eye him back with uncertainty, he only smiled back in return as he let a few sparks against your leg.

“What the fuck!” he watched you hiss and try to pull away from his hand to which he only gripped the top of your leg tighter,”Ah uh,” Kaminari chuckled, a twisted tone in his voice, “Come on now, I don’t wanna have to hurt you more. Just give us the notebook,” He pressed on trying to get you to spill it already, “I’ll give you a minute to tell me, if not I might have to fry a few nerves, and we wouldn’t want that would we baby girl?”

“Don’t call me that,” You spit back to his surprise. Fiesty one? Yeah he can dig that. “Don’t be so mean,” Kaminari uttered back in fake hurt as he shocked your leg with a little bit of a higher voltage watching as tears came to your eyes,”If you keep this up I’ll have no choice but to think you like this,” He teased and watched her as she gripped onto his own wrist trying to pry him off,”Let me go!” You cried out in frustration. Watching you struggle against his grip was cute but getting annoying, “Did you find it yet?” He shouted looking over his shoulder to try and find Kirishima who was currently digging around in your bedroom.

“Not yet,” his friend called back. Kaminari was about to reply when he felt something hard smash against his head as well as you crying out in pain at the same time. Letting go of his grip on you, he fell back with a “Oof”. Holding the side of his head, he looked up to see you had headbutted him and were now on your way of getting up towards the door. “Fuck,” Kaminari gritted his teeth and sprung up, being quick to grab you by your wrist and letting out a painful wave of shocks getting you to scream.

“Kaminari! The neighbors will hear!” He heard Kirishima yell at him causing him to grip onto her mouth, tugging her into the wall and pressing her stomach against the cool surface, “You know babe, I don’t usually get mad,” Kaminari whispered sweetly in your ear in a sickening tone, “But you’re really pushing it right now. Give it up or I’m going to show you how much I can really make you scream,”

Feeling you tense up and shake against him had the blonde tilted your head back to see terror in your eyes. If this notebook hadn’t been so important, he would have probably apologized right then and there.

“Cereal box,” He felt you mutter in his hand making him confused instantly. Removing his hand, Kaminari gave you a questioning look. “It’s...It’s in the coco puffs,” You sobbed out and he could tell you were trying to keep yourself calm through this. Looking over to Kirishima from across the room, he watched his friend hurry to the kitchen knowing they had limited time now that they made too much noise here. Digging through your cabinets, he watched his friend pull out a cereal box and spill the contents out, the notebook falling onto the counter, “There it is! Fuck there it is!” Kaminari laughed in relief while holding you between him and the wall,”See that wasn’t so hard? Who would’ve thought cereal was the answer?” He joked trying to lighten the mood.

“I don’t know dude, but we need to get out of here now, the neighbors probably heard her scream,” Kirishima responded but was smiling as well. It was funny seeing that you hid it almost so well in a breakfast box.

“Please...let me go, you have everything you want,” Kaminari looked down to see you with pleading eyes and while he wished he could say they were done with you, he couldn’t. “It’s not that easy baby, you stole...from the mafia no less. That was stupidly brave but our boss isn’t happy,” He explained and when he saw the look on your face of hesitation and fear he tightened his grip on your arm, “Don’t do anything stupid, just cooperate, it’s gonna be fine,” He tried to reassure you but already he could see the defiance building up, “I don’t want to have to knock you out, just relax,”

“Here, blindfold her,” Kirishima reached over, handing over his headband knowing all too well how these things go. “No! I-” You began to try to fight back but Kaminari was quick to shock that out of you. “Kiri, hold her will you,” He muttered, taking the blindfold with one hand before gently pushing her to Kiri who grabbed both of her wrists and kept her sturdy. “Look just be good and we won’t have to hurt you any further,” Kirishima tried to reason with you looking down at your fearful expression before the black headband covered your red puffy eyes.

“One more thing, get her hands behind her back, I don’t trust her to behave in the car,” Kaminari requested and watched as you struggled a bit against his friend who pulled your hands behind your back. Taking off his own belt, he made a makeshift handcuffs and tightened them around your wrists,” Alright let's get going before we get caught, oh and baby, don’t scream when we get out there, I really don’t want to sedate you with my quirk,”

--------------------

After having the two strangers pull you out of the house quickly and get you to the car, you sat quietly in the back of the car, your heart and mind racing with thoughts and emotions. They had you blindfolded and your wrists tied up together making it difficult to calm down but at least they had the decency to buckle you up. “Hey, breathe, don’t hyperventilate,” You heard the blonde one suddenly say in the midst of the silence. That’s when you realized you really were breathing quick. “Fuck you…,” You mumble back and hear them both sigh a little as the car took off. “What’s your name then?” You heard the one named Kaminari speak again to which you only glared into your blindfold,”Gonna shock me if I don’t tell you?” You questioned back bitterly but hushed.

“Just tryna make conversation, make you feel a little better,” You heard him respond with a huff before the radio was turned on. You felt somewhat relieved when the music replaced the awkward silence in the car. ‘You just had to get greedy with the money offered and this is where you ended up’ You furiously thought to yourself. Listening to your kidnappers talk with the music in the background had somewhat calmed you down just a bit to start feeling the aftermath of the shocks. Your leg and arm felt tingly still and a headache started to grow from the headbutt earlier. You’re sure to have a bump there later.

Leaning against the seat of the car more, you shut your eyes and try to zone out to try and get a plan going. You hadn’t realized how much time went by before the car came to a slow and then a halt before hearing a gate screech open and for the car to move slowly forward, the tires sounding like they were on gravel as they stopped again.

“I’ll get here,” You heard Kaminari say to which the other man snorted,”Not like I was gonna. Here take the notebook too. I said I would help, but I’m not going to face Deku. I already got my ass yelled at a few weeks ago and I’m not getting further into this,” He stated.

“Fineee,” was all you heard before the car doors clicked shut and footsteps to your side opened the car. Feeling hands reach in and unbuckle you, you kept silent in fear as well as anger before he picked you up out the car and helped you over his shoulder,”I can walk!” You hissed.

“Yeah, so can I,” Was the only snarky response you got back as you were carried off. As you reached the inside of wherever you were, you could hear small talk here and there as well as doors opening and closing. You started to feel a bit more nervous with how many people you could hear. Your kidnapper remained eerily silent as well as if he himself was nervous himself.

“Bring her in here,” You heard a different voice call out as Kaminari made a sharp turn into a different path following the voice. After a few more seconds you felt colder as you were put down and pushed into a chair. “Hey-” You started but a quick shock silenced you right up as your arms were tugged out from the belt and a cold metallic material was wrapped around your wrists.

“Now come with me,” The new voice spoke again and the footsteps traveled out the room, a door swinging shut with a loud click afterwards. Now you were chained to something, in a cold room, with a blindfold still on.

“Hello?” You called out and after no response you leaned over getting your face close to your hands before tugging off the blindfold. “What the fuck is this,” You muttered out as light brought onto you a cool grey room with nothing but a table to where your hands were chained, the cahir you were currently sitting on, and a chair in front of you. Starring around, the solid blocked out door was the only way out and god knows how many people were on the other side.

“Don’t cry...don’t you dare cry,” You growl to yourself trying to keep composure as you stare at your hands in anger. Breathing in and out as best as you could to keep from crying you wanted to think of a way out of this but there weren’t any ideas popping in. You were just a small time quirkless thief, not some mafia enemy. You didn’t know how to deal with this.

The door clicked back open causing you to turn your head quickly back to it to watch Kaminari walk back in with a folder,”(Y/N)...such a pretty name! You should have told me earlier baby,” He said making you stiffen up in your seat eyeing him with a glare,” But you really should have said something about being quirkless, I would have gone easy on you,” He pouted over to you making you bare your teeth in disgust.

“Why? Being quirkless doesn’t make us weak,” You spit out in malice disgusted by his suggestion,”I stole that notebook from you without one,” You proudly stated in a matter of fact tone. “Mhm, yeah but look where that got you girly,” Kaminari shot back taking a seat across from you before looking through whatever file he had on you. Golden eyes locked back to yours and a chill went down your spine from the grin he had,”So missy, I see you actually have a fair share of robberies in your file. Well, this time you hit big money huh? Wanna share where you got that information on the little notebook?” He started.

Taking a small breathe, you knew you couldn’t give that away. Deep down you knew that wasn’t the best idea even if you were in this situation. If Shigaraki’s crew figured it out you told on them, you were most definitely dead. “Bite me,” You answered glaring back down at your hands not wanting to see what expression the man had.

“Maybe later, but right now I kind of need answers baby girl. See, the boss needs answers and he always gets what he needs,” Kaminari laughed lightly but you could tell he wasn’t too happy with your answer, “So lets try this again. Where did you get the information? Don’t make me shock a quirkless girly like you,”

“I’m not making you do anything, you’re just fucked up enough to be the villain of the situation here,” That line alone made the room feel even colder as you lifted your head to see Kaminari silently put the folder down. He was still smiling and you couldn’t help but want to scoot further away from him. The chair beneath him squeaked against the floor as he got up and made his way behind you. “I told you I’m really slow to anger right?” He muttered lowly without the smile leaving his face and you felt instant regret as he reached over, his chin over your shoulder as his arms trailed up your arm and made their way to your hands. Flipping them over he forced his hands into yours, holding onto them tightly.

“Fuck off,” You huffed trying to shake him off but before you could try to shake him off, a high voltage sparked through both of your hands and through your arms reaching the rest of your body. Screams ripped through your lungs and your back arched off the chair as the tears had flowed down your cheeks. He didn’t let up until he was sure you had learned the message, letting the shocks die down but didn’t move his hands. You went limp against the chair breathing heavily as sobs shook through you.

“Shhh, it’s okay. I’m only hurting you as much as you hurt me with your mean little opinions,” He whispered but something in his voice gave off a small hint of him liking this, “Now, who told you about the notebook?” he asked again his breath close to your ear, “And think hard about what you wanna say. If you wanna act tough, I’ll treat you like you’re tough. You can handle more can’t you babygirl? I’ll make it last longer next time,” He laughed into your ear before he licked the shell causing another shiver to go down your spine.

“You’re...an asshole,” You cried out trying to hold onto the thin string of bravery and confidence to get through this. You heard a dark chuckle from behind you before your mind went blank. A searing pain of shocks went throughout your whole body as your scream filled the room once more, trying to tug your hands away from him but to no luck he remained the stronger of you two. It felt like this would never end and that this pain was going to be with you forever. After what felt like hours, the shocks stopped as your mind went numb. Your eyes closed as they felt heavier and your body felt like it was being pricked over and over again with needles.

“Don’t pass out on me now, come on wake up!” You barely even heard his voice as the blonde squeezed your hands before he helped you sit back up against the chair,”man, I went a little overboard huh?” Chuckled filled the room as he gave light taps to your cheeks causing your eyes to open to look above you, golden honey pools hypnotizing you for a little. “Hey pretty baby, you back from your little high?” He joked before tears pooled down your cheeks again, afraid of what more he could do to you. “Just tell me okay? We don’t wanna be doing this all day and night do we?” He questioned with a smile as he took your hands again making your resolve snap.

“H-He..he told me he would pay me alot...I just wanted to pay bills,” You cried out breaking under the pressure and pain, wanting nothing more than to quit being a thief and just go home to curl up in bed, “Shhh, it’s okay. I get it, you just wanted to survive out in this cold world. Give me a name, I’ll make this all better,” he breathed out, his thumb on your right hand stroking the back of your hand trying to soothe you.

“His n-name is Mr. Compress. I really don’t know his name please...don’t shock me please, that’s all i know! He wanted the notebook and gave me your address that’s all! Please let me go,” You begged wanting nothing more than for this to be over.

“Good girl, there you go. It’s okay, that’s all I wanted,” Kaminari praised before letting go of your hands which you automatically tried to pull back to yourself, your palms red and starting to swell. “I’ll get you some water okay?” He hummed as he gave you a condescending pat to the head before leaving the room. You didn’t care for what he did, you felt so drained and your head just felt so heavy. Closing your eyes you finally gave out and slumped over the table, your breathing uneven.

--------------------------

You felt like you were on a cloud surrounded by angels who covered you in their feathers. It felt like you could sink into that pleasurable feeling forever if it weren’t for the pain coursing through your hands. You didn’t want to move, you didn’t want to open your eyes. You didn’t want to be shocked-

You started to remember the moments before you had passed out and panic flung through your chest. You had to get up, assess what’s going on. Managing to open your eyes, you were met with a dimly lit room and soft fleece blankets all around and over you. Carefully sitting up you hissed in pain when your hands ached. Bringing them in front of you, white bandages were wrapped around your palms and fingers. Confusion hit you all at once as you looked up, the only light source coming into the room being from the ajar door. Squinting to try and see better throughout the room, dread filled you as you recognized your surroundings. This is where it all started. The room you took the notebook in.

Being quick to stand up, you felt woozy but the need to leave was greater than the need to sit down. Stumbling to the door, you swung it out and peeked out to see Kaminari sitting lazily on his couch, a ps4 controller in hand as he button mashed away. It was odd not seeing him in a suit, rather in shorts and a simple hoodie. Carefully stepping out, you looked to the front door trying to convince yourself to make a bolt for it. Taking in a small sturdy breath, you launched yourself out the room to try and get to the door but it seemed like your body had other plans. Wobbling forward you managed a few steps before your head pounded causing you to fall to your knees and groan.

“Careful! You’re probably still a little fried,” A voice came from above you and helped stand you up. The same golden eyes that had you crying and being shocked were now looking at you with worry. Dumbfounded by his expression, you let him lead you to his couch and sit you down,”You might want to take it easy for a while, you put up quite a fight in that room,” Kaminari chuckled to which you could only blink at him with confusion as to what was going on with the sudden flip of being nice.

“I want to go home,” Was what you finally managed to say after the two of you had stared at each other in silence. “Yeah...that’s not gonna happen baby girl. It’s a bit more complicated than that,” He responded with a small smile that had a sign of pity in it.

“What do you mean? I really just want to forget everything and go home, please,” You tried to argue to which he shrugged and sunk into the back of the couch getting comfortable again. Not bothering to look at you, he stared at the t.v ahead of him, “Well, there were three options on what to do with you. One, we could have killed you which I really didn’t want to do. Two, we could have released you but that would have left us open for an attack. Shigaraki’s side could have kidnapped you right after and tortured you again and killed you after for information about the book and us. Then this option. I could take you home with me, keep you safe and away from your own crimes and as well as us safe from others taking you for information. I took a liking to you, it would have felt a shame to kill a pretty babe like you,” He explained fully, before looking back at you. You felt horrified, looking back down at your hands to come up with something to say but you didn’t. You drew a blank. All you could think was that if you did leave, you’d have two mafia groups looking for your death/capturement but if you stayed, you would be forever locked away with this man who you know nothing of beside the fact that he works for the mafia.

“Hey, I know that’s a lot to take in, but I’m doing you a favor, keeping you here to stay alive. All you gotta do is listen to me, and we’ll both be happy. You can also call me Denki from now on, ‘Kay?” Kaminari hummed as he got up walking to his room and coming back with the soft blanket you were snuggled into earlier. Dropping it onto your head, he plopped down next to you.

“Denki?” You whispered out his name as you hugged the soft blanket around you for the comfort, “What...what am I supposed to do here?” You asked fearful of the answer looking at him as his eyes had a brighter shine than before.

“Just be a good girly and we will see what you can do,” He answered back and looked back to his game starting it back up, “You’ll make a cute little housewife or something. We’ll figure it out,”

#bnhaxreader #mhaxreader #kaminari x reader #kaminarixreader #stilldontknowwtfimdoingbutayyyyididit #6ampostswoopwoop

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veridium · 5 years

Text

“Saving Face”

I was commissioned by my dear friend, @bitchesofostwick, to write for Cullen and Ellinor -- this time, in the Inquisition universe, which is a first for me! I have had a bit of time with them as awkward and adorable College students, so this was a great and fun challenge to draw from her amazing story, A World Alone. I highly suggest you read it if you have not already!

Isabella gave me a lot of creative room to take an idea and run with it, so I am delighted to share it. Thank you so much for commissioning me!

-- -- --

Summary: Sera challenges Ellinor to a game of strict focus and discipline. In the process, Ellinor discovers that while may be a nearly infallible player, but not when it comes to certain participants and their...rather silly, childhood memories.

Ship: Inquisitor Ellinor Trevelyan x Cullen Rutherford

-- -- --

It is a game, or so Sera claims at the beginning of it all. Now, she is far from sure. If she was not worried of looking like a sore sport -- which she typically could care less about, but today, things feel different -- she would opt out. Only, it’s the principle of the thing: so simple a game. Or, “game.” Try not to laugh, or smile, while someone is telling a ridiculous story. Ellinor can certainly win, she never laughs. It is one of those things that hurts feelings and also provides a point of pride: “I laugh!” and also “no one can make me laugh if I do not wish to.”

Maybe that is how she gets caught up in this ordeal. For whatever rhyme or reason, she must win.

She makes it through five consecutive rounds of torture. Sera instigates, but the first story is one Ellinor’s already heard a half-dozen times. About a scuffle in Denerim where a man giving her trouble ends up hooked on a tavern banner pole, breeches up and arse crested, as she describes. A fantastic tale, but not new. Sera is impressed, but it only provokes her more, so she tells a second one about a bard who tried to drink out of their mandolin. Then, another about a mysteriously unnamed rogue who --

“Sera, I said don’t speak of that ever!” Ellinor cuts in just before she’s damned. The scowl is sincere when she says it.

Sera, snorting as she chuckles, grips even tighter on the ankles of her crossed legs. She’s sat across from her on the bench chair, outside the tavern. Cassandra passes by in-between stories one and two, quickly decides it is something she wants no part of, and departs before Sera can ask to play. Luckily, just as Ellinor is about to turn it into a sparring match to defend her own honor, Bull’s shadow overtakes them both.

“Heard from inside, something about a bard on a banner pole?” he asks, swinging his axe in a circular motion as if he’s come to train rather than tease.

Ellinor smiles slightly, but then quickly covers her ass: “Pause, Sera! To explain!” she says before turning over her shoulder. “Yes, it’s some kind of game. Sera said so. I’m still unsure about whether it is, or just something she’s got me tied into the pass the time.”

“Oh, sure, blame me, right,” Sera gripes, “all because I have the bright ideas besides mopin.’”

“I was not moping!”

“Right, you were doin’ one better. Daydreamin’ about--”

“Fine, fair enough, I was moping,” Ellinor gives in once again to save face. Shit.

Looking on, Bull clears his throat with a knuckle to his mouth, side-stepping away. “Boss, you have an angle. It’s not the cheeriest one, but it works. Don’t get too worked up about it.”

Ellinor gives a slight sigh, and rests back in her seat, knees spreading. “I’m not. I just want to make clear that--”

“Eh! I don’t wanna argue about it too much, it’ll only make you cross and make my turn harder!”

“Then maybe you should think twice before picking a fight,” Ellinor retorts, biting back a grin that betrays the concern. Fortunately Sera doesn’t seem to notice as she squints her eyes into space, hooking an arm under her knee. She has to have enough stories to narrate a damn lifetime. Bull withdraws completely, heading for the dummies. Talk about a work up.

“Sera, maybe you should just admit defeat. Where are the rules about how many attempts you get?” Ellinor presses, elbows cocking back on top of the bench backrest. She rests a boot toe-up, heel digging into the damp soil as she waits for another round.

“No, no, no,” Sera refuses, “there’s nothin about turn numbers.”

“Well, maybe there should be.”

“Why? You breakin’?”

“No! My concern is the other--”

“Agh! Perfect! Cully!”

Ellinor blinks so fast it nearly pushes her off balance, as all of the sudden a blank stare to the ground and her shoe becomes a frantic blur. “Cull--”

“Over here!” Sera is now waving, and what’s worse, she’s waving toward a man in crimson and steel and fur who looks awfully like someone she would call “Cullen.” Could there not be other people by that name in this entire Hold? Apparently not. Certainly not the kind who would look at her and Sera and think, of course, I must become involved in whatever irresponsibility they are sharing.

Across the yard he is holding a report, while two subordinates withdraw from his presence, making it aptly timed for someone to get his attention. Apt, meaning terrible. The heat in her gut and her face start to compete with one another for which will cook her from the inside out first.

“Sera, no,” she hisses out the corner of her mouth, posture rounding forward. “You can have all the turns you want, I quit, I--”

“No shit!” Sera then waves at her, like a pesky couple of bees, “Cully! Yeah, you! Get over ‘ere.”

She should have known she would be this way. She does know. She knows better than most anyone. But the way Cullen walks over, as if he is both cautious and curious -- in the way only he can be -- it’s clear Ellinor is not the pinnacle of knowing anything resembling “better.” Just him, and the way she’s oscillating from contained to confounded.

When he is but a few yards from them, and Sera is fidgeting with anticipation, he speaks.

“Er, yes, Sera?” he delays before the second part. “...Ellinor?”

Ellinor slides back even further until the bench creaks from the pressure, and decidedly turns her look to Sera, more as refuge but also resentment. “Sera, for the love of…”

“We’re playin’ somethin’. It’s good for your focus. Or, Ellinor’s focus, right now. Can you make her laugh?”

Cullen unsurprisingly pauses, wherein his face becomes a more similar shade to the fabric in his armor. Ellinor can only imagine how much she, too, matches; yet the appearance also endears her. Which can only mean one dangerous conclusion: if he says yes, he will be right.

“I, ahem,” he says, throat raspy with unprepared answers, “what sort of game requires that, Sera?”

“Simple: the game for her is keepin’ a straight face. The game for us is ruinin’ it. Make sense?”

“If I am to be honest, no. Not really.”

It is Sera’s turn to pause and be befuddled, now, as her gaze switches from them both. Ellinor is still fastened on her like a sailor would a star on the horizon, lest she fall prey to the creatures swimming beneath her feet.

“Come on, you don’t got stories?”

Ellinor bites the side of her lip. “Everyone has stories, but we don’t have to--”

“Then--”

Cullen intervenes, less apprehensive: “I’m afraid I don’t, as it were. Not any that come to mind. I’m afraid I will have to leave you to the task.” He’s polite, not dismissive. Even still, the decline is another instance of complicated emotion; it spurs Ellinor to finally look up and see his expression. He has his hands on the pommel of his sword, in a similar surveying shape as he would take before the war table.

Damn.

“We understand, no, really,” Ellinor tries to smooth it over before she can even understand what she’s trying to smooth over. Is it Sera’s disappointment, or her own? Is it the fear that he’ll think she was in on this, or that she wanted him to be involved? He looks at her and grins softly, breaking the first and ultimate rule of the ‘game’ even though it isn’t his to lose. It’s only hers. Fuck all.

“Both of you are no fun,” Sera huffs, tucking her legs underneath her completely now. “Fine, more victory for me,” she concludes.

Ellinor allows herself to breathe. As she does so, Cullen backs away cordially.

“I trust you will do well with the challenge,” he kindly says to Sera, nodding to her before looking at Ellinor one final time. “I hope this proves beneficial to you, Ellinor.”

“I do not plan on it,” she replies before thinking. It makes his grin flinch a bit broader, before he turns around fully. “Farewell, Cullen”

Only when she hears Sera snicker more does she realize the last part was too soft to be across the distance between them; it is also too sentimental-sounding for the light of day. Renewed in both her self-preservation and pride, Ellinor looks back at Sera, her eyes narrowing with hostility.

“Sera.”

“What? It was in the rules.”

“What blasted rules?!” she yells, hands out and fingers grasping the air like they had claws, “are you going to keep making them up on me, trying to get me to crack?”

In the face of her fury, Sera only shrugs.

“I see,” Ellinor exhales. “You’re not the only one who can make rules, then. New rule: no new contenders in the middle of the game.”

“Rule’s rejected.”

“What?”

Sera makes herself busy, or busy-looking, checking one of the calluses on her toes. “For rules to be passed you gotta have everyone agree.”

And that is how the Inquisitor comes to win twenty full rounds of the laughing game running on sheer spite.

Later on that evening, another council meeting concludes, and without many prying eyes Ellinor’s singular confidence has rebounded. Josephine and Leliana leave the war room first. She notices the same stature of red and iron, and slightly curling hair across the slab of wood with scattered coins, pieces, and papers. Nothing inspires stoicism like deliberating how to save Thedas. Not everything is a game.

Despite this, Cullen stands by like before; it makes her concentration ever-so-slightly bend from the spread of work and obligations.

“Inquisitor.”

Trying to maintain her preoccupation -- or at least the semblance of it -- she only glances. “Y-yes?”

“I, ahah,” he hesitates. “There was a time, many years ago, where I helped Mia practice cutting and trimming hair. Or rather, helped, by being an involuntary being her subject for her...attempts. Once, she sat me down in her room and began cutting short, but every time she cut, she would become more cross. Apparently my hair was not cooperating, and so she kept trimming it into line. Sadly there’s only so much hair to cut before...well,” a sorry chuckle leaves his chest, “I had no chance to see before Branson came into the room and started to laugh. By then, it was too late.”

Ellinor had pulled herself up to stand straight, incrementally hanging more and more on every word. What was the purpose of this?

“I...um,” she swallowed, arms folding. “What...what had happened?”

He looks more savvy as a trace of brightness, however tempered, casts in his eyes. His eyes then lower to the table. The smile lines on either cheek deepen. “Unfortunately, save for one part at the back, she had cut down most all of it. Branson collapsed to the floor laughing, and Mia took it as a terrible insult to her skills. But even she admitted later...well, years later, that it was ugly. I was no more than five, maybe six years of age, and all the hair I had to show could be kept in one tie all-together. The rest took months to return.”

Brows raised, Ellinor placed the side of her knuckle to her mouth. “So...so they made you keep the part she had not cut tied up?”

“They did not make me, she insisted and I being young and eager to impress my older sister obliged. She said it was the one part she got right.”

“A...a ponytail...with everything else short?”

“So short my head became burned by the sun if I stayed out under it for too long.”

“And...and when it was down…”

“You do not even want to know what it was compared to when down.”

That is the last straw. Shoulders lurching, hand pressing harder on her mouth as the edges of her lips spread to either side, Ellinor is undone by the mental image. A small, round-faced little boy with a tuft of curls on the back of his little head, running around and chasing after his big sister. Still looking for love and approval through loyalty, even when that loyalty does him so dirty. A hum, innocent but involuntary, bubbles in her throat: a hum of charmed humor.

Her eyes and his unbroken only make it worse, because the way his are emboldened by the sight of her, if even for just a moment, makes it all the more slippery. Slippery for the grip she has on composure that is infamous and yet not infallible.

“You...y-you…” she says, breaking through the subtle chuckling, “you looked like one of those fluffy...fl-u--”

“Lap dogs, yes,” he says, his smile straining, “you could say that.”

“I am just...I was not meaning to…”

“No need to retract, Inquisitor,” he says, “I know better than to believe that”

Her chuckling grows to where she uncovers her mouth and smiles. “I--forgive…”

Once again, he denies with a shake of his head. “Neither would I trust that apology.”

She goes on for a moment, getting it out of her system, while he stands by. As she calms she notices there’s a bit too much coolness to him. Not nearly as much blush or self-consciousness as she would expect in his vulnerability. Something...pleased.

“What...what on earth are you,” she tries, taking a couple breaths to pace herself, “what has got you so smug?”

He doesn’t reply at first. Rather, he looks off and walks steadily around the perimeter. When he is on her side, he does not stop to face her. He only slows his pace toward the direction of the door.

“Oh, nothing,” he says like a mention of unimportant detail, “I just won after only a single round, is all.”

Her jubilance turns to sour defeat, as does the taste in her mouth. Her eyes go wide. “But...b-but…!”

“Careful, Ellinor,” he says over his shoulder, halfway to the exit already. “You might make the score worse for yourself than it already is.”

Her face is hot from a different emotion now -- at least, mostly. If she cannot deny the way he prevailed, she definitely cannot deny the visceral nature of hearing her name in the sting of defeat.

“Agh! No, that is not the end of it!” she exclaims, boots loudly hitting the floor as she goes after him. And, to her credit, it most definitely is not the end.

Later on, through the hall leading to Josephine’s office, a scurrilous and acidic “that is not what the rules state!” can be heard amongst salty but stuttering voices. Whether or not such a dispute ever truthfully took place is left to rumor.

#fic commission #commissions #bitchesofostwick #ellinor trevelyan #cullen rutherford #mutuals #thank you!

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slxyangel · 5 years

Text

Misplaced (Slash x Reader)

Summary: So he won’t let you drive his car? Okay then, he’s gonna suffer...

Wordcount: 2.1k

Warnings: A LOT of smut.

A/N: Read this if you’re horny. And if you aren’t read it too, you’ll end up horny.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!

Masterlist: https://slxyangel.tumblr.com/post/189625800403/masterlist

Your hands held the steering wheel as tight as they could and you felt the hem of your pulled down black lace panties pressed against the middle region of your thighs. A grin was spreading wide on your face. You were sure that, if you looked down, you would be able to see the fabric peeking under your awfully short dress, but you were already distracted enough and you didn't want to have an accident, so your eyes were strictly on the road. Instead, Slash's were looking at you so intensely that you felt the side of your head starting to burn. You knew you were being naughty, but at this point there was no turning back. Oops.

When you stepped out of the restaurant after dinner it had costed you a lot to convince him to let you drive his Corvette, but after some of his whining and some of your necessary emotional bribing he had acceded. Now, for the inconveniences, you were decided to make him suffer a little bit, so in the 15 seconds it took him to reach the passenger's door and get in the car you had pulled your panties halfway down your legs, just enough to let him see they were “out of place”.

You were pretty surprised that during the first half of your way home didn’t realize. He was too busy focusing on any minimum scratch you could potentially inflict on his four-wheeled baby just because you weren't him. But the moment he laid his eyes on your misplaced lace underwear… oh, lord save us all, he went fucking feral.

- If your pussy is wet and the upholstery of my car ends up stained you and me are going to have a problem.

- You said "if" as if you had a doubt my pussy is actually wet. Do you have it?

- What are you, teasing me?

- I asked you first.

You were pushing his limits far beyond control point, and you were having genuine fun. In your entire twenty-three years of life you hadn’t met a soul who was as “teasable” as Slash, more specifically as horny-Slash, and that gave you life. You two were always playing this kind of games, testing each other’s ground, pulling each other’s strings, so there was nothing new about this situation, but still it was useful for keeping the flame alive. After a moment of silence, when you thought he wasn’t going to say anything else, he spoke very quietly yet very clearly:

- As soon as we get home, I’m going to shove you against the table so hard that you are going to have a back pain for two weeks.

Holy shit. Well, if your cunt wasn’t soaking two minutes ago, now it definitely was. Maybe he was going to have to shove you against the desk too. Or the kitchen counter. Or the wall.

You parked in the garage of the penthouse you two shared, and the 18-floor way up in the lift seemed even slower than usually. Wth your dress considerably up and your underwear considerably down, you were looking into his eyes and he was looking into yours, extremely close but not touching each other; vibrating with energy, both unwilling to break the tension that could be cut with a knife, both determined to play that game. It costed you big time to introduce the key in the lock with Saul hovering behind you, but when you did and the door closed behind his back, there was no way out of that one.

His lips crashed into yours with the strength of a wrecking ball, fiercely, even angrily, and of course you corresponded. In zero seconds he removed his jacket and t-shirt and continued kissing you. You were so deep into the kiss that he caught you off-guard when his hands suddenly moved to the sides of your thighs. He grabbed the hem of your panties and pulled them up violently. And up, and up, and up. You felt the fabric pressing against your throbbing core as your tiptoes almost levitated over the floor and you were holding onto his bare shoulders. An uncontrollable shudder climbed up your spine and he whispered in your ear:

- This is how you learn not to misbehave.

Little bastard. He held you from the back of your thighs and pulled you up, carrying you away from the hall and into the living room. You took advantage of the position of slight superiority of your head and with a quick twist you bit the side of his neck, sucking and leaving a tiny mark, visible in the dim light coming from the window. He grumbled in surprise and left you on the floor right away, your lips shining with a victorious grin. He looked back at you with daring eyes: “So you wanna play, huh? Okay, so be it.”

The big dining table that filled a fair part of the room was behind you, almost in contact with your lower back, and he seemed to realize that at the same time you did, because the moment you exchanged looks, he sharply pushed you against it, kissing you with renewed desire. Now your ass was sitting on it with your dress barely even there to separate your skin from the wooden surface. His hands traveled straight to your hips, pulling up the skirt and acceding to your panties. As you concentrated in the task of undoing his belt, you were surprised by the sound of ripped fabric and the sudden feeling of fresh air on your wet pussy. That motherfucker had destroyed your favourite underwear with a snap. He sure as hell wasn’t going to get away with it, you’d come up with something.

However, you had more important things to focus on at the moment, meaning his pulsating cock, aching to be liberated from the fabric that covered it, so you got to it. The very minute you laid eyes on his length, even though it wasn’t new for you, your eyes shut open with lust. You let out a puff and felt the irresistible urge to put it in your mouth and suck the living hell out of him. You got off the table and on your knees in less than a blink, and before he could say a word your grabbed his dick and you swallowed it with your eyes closed, enjoying the glorious salty taste of his tip. You heard him make rough noises out of pleasure and you started bobbing your head and playing with your tongue, rhythmically. Without stopping your motions, you opened your eyes to see Saul’s head bent back, hair floating behind him and eyes shut. His fists were clenched at both sides of his body, as if he was trying to stop himself from grabbing your hair because he knew how much you hated it. The sight was magnificent.

You started running your free hand up his still covered thigh until you reached his hand. He opened both eyes and looked down at you, as you guided his now less tight fist to the back of your head. His eyes seemed unsure of what you were doing, but you took his shaft out of your mouth with a “pop” and nodded at him, giving your unspoken permission. Tonight was not the time for containment. Then, with your tongue you drew an invisible line from the base to the tip, pressing hard enough along one of his thick veins, and got back to business. Your left hand was now holding his balls and your head was moving faster, following the slight pressure of his grip on your hair. You hadn’t stopped looking at him for a second, and the intimacy of your eyes locked to his felt too heavy, yet infinitely comfortable. When he caressed your cheek with his left thumb you sucked harder.

- Shit, babe - he stuttered, somewhat pulling away - if you go on like that, I’m gonna cum.

- And so? - you asked innocently.

- Well, - a smile painted his lips - because we don’t want that to happen. Not yet.

He gently held your hand and helped you stand up as you greeted him with your warmest smile but, as you expected, gentleness didn’t last much longer. (Thank God). He grabbed your head by the sides with both hands and held it firmly while he kissed you with a deeper intensity than before. The way he was gripping you you barely had freedom of movement to actively correspond him, but you were eager, so you fought for it like a tiger. The kiss was downright filthy and your breathing as well as his became uneven in a couple of seconds. Your hands ran up and down his bare chest until the time you finally decided to torture him a little bit more. His dick was covered with your spit and his own precum, so you used that preexisting lubrication to start jerking him off and moaning like the little bitch you felt like.

- Please… - you begged. You were drunk with lust.

- Please… what? - His voice tone was now a few octaves lower, more raspy, full of desire. - Ask it nicely.

- Come on, you already know what I mean...

His hair tickled your collarbones, and he was so close that, even in the dark, you could see his dilated pupils. His right hand let go of your face and traveled down to your bare cunt.

- Holy shit, you’re soaking. - the way he spoke made it look like it wasn’t already fucking obvious that you were horny enough to bake cookies inside of you - But I want you to say it out loud.

While he was saying those words in your ear he started drawing circles with the palm of his hand in your pussy. Meanwhile, your hand was still working wonders in his length, but he was containing himself like a champion.

-If you don’t say it there’s no prize…

He inserted a finger inside of you. Oh, shit...

- Come on, doll.

Another one. Christ, please, don’t do this...

- Say it.

He was going to drive you crazy.

- I want you, I want your cock. I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t even walk straight afterwards. Could you please do me that fucking favor?

He stopped.

- My pleasure.

And he entered you. Oh my god, that was an understatement; he split you in half. With a swift motion he had taken his own cock from your hand which, to be completely honest, wasn’t in the most suitable condition to do its job, and he had pierced you so hard and so fast that you saw black for a moment. Now you were seated on the table again with Slash’s lips sucking hickeys in your jaw, neck, collarbones and shoulders. At this point, your dress was bunched up in your waist and the thick straps were halfway down your shoulders; it was only there to bother, so you got rid of it. You hadn’t put on a bra earlier this evening, so now your breasts bounced along with his tireless ramming. Thirst-stricken, you dug your long nails in his back, tracing ten fine lines across his shoulder blades, and you bit the side of his neck where you had left a sensitive red spot earlier. He pulled your hair back, pounding even harder into you, and you thought you were going to lose control. The soundtrack was nasty: skin slapping, loud moaning, desperate growling, even screaming, furniture scratching the floor… a whole orchestra made out of filthy, pornographic makeout.

The whole experience was so hard, so intense that you were legitimately shocked when the orgasm striked you. Your body was torn between holding on to him, to have him closer, to get more of his contact, his skin, his presence; or bending backwards so subhumanly that your scalp pressed the table and your ribs still touched his abdomen. In any case, he chased after you and after his own orgasm like a lion hunting his prey. Both your highs were rigorously synchronized and you repeated each other’s name like a mantra at the same time your lips were almost sucked together.

Your legs were still wrapped around Slash’s hips and your upper body was crushed between his weight and the wooden table, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You stayed like that for a long while, not wanting to break that precious atmosphere; his head on your chest, his hair all over your face, your fingers intertwined at both sides of your bodies, both of you recovering from the lack of oxygen and the excess of sex. Now that you thought about it coldly and evaluated damages, maybe he was right after all, you were going to have a back pain for two weeks.

#imagine #oneshot #one shot #Smut #slash #slash x reader #fanfic #guns n roses #gnr fanfiction #gnr #slash smut #slash fanfic #slash imagine #guns n roses imagine #classic rock imagine

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anathtsurugi · 4 years

Text

A Rose Upon a Thorn (Chapter 3 Teaser)

"Why do you wear a blindfold?"

Chirrut chuckled quietly at the child's question. Despite everything the little one had been through, despite being kidnapped and tortured, he was still just a boy, and little boys tended to be curious about such things.

"Ezra!" the older child scolded him. "You can't just ask people things like that!"

"But how else am I gonna find out if I don't ask? I wanna know!" he insisted petulantly.

"The child is right, you know," Chirrut told Ezra's self-appointed guardian, Sabine. "Knowledge must be sought."

"But...it's rude, isn't it?" Sabine asked, her voice uncertain. "You'll have to excuse him. He's only six."

"No need for excuses, young ones. The answer is simple enough. I wear a blindfold because I have no eyes. The sight of such a blank face tends to unnerve most people."

The blind warrior smiled knowingly into the ensuing silence, waiting for the moment when Ezra finally broke it with a quickly muttered, "Can I see?"

"Ezra!"

Chirrut just laughed in response, offering no admonishment as he untied the blindfold, allowing the strip of cloth to fall into his lap. He was no more surprised when he felt small fingers reach out to press against the bare stretch of skin where eyes would be in a human. It was one of his stranger Fey characteristics, not having eyes. The one that tended to raise more questions than he typically cared to answer. So he didn't. But he didn't mind answering them for the little boy. His questions were asked out of curiosity, a true desire to know; not out of fear or ignorance.

"But...how do you see? How do you look to walk around?" Ezra asked him, sounding almost worried.

"I cannot see. I have no eyes, after all. I never have. This is the way I was born. But there are senses other than sight, Ezra," he said, reaching out to lay a hand on the boy's shoulder. "After all, how did I 'see' to know where your shoulder was?"

"How?"

Laying his staff to the side on his cot, he tapped at his ear, then at Ezra's. "I can hear you. That tells me more than you might think. Perhaps you ought to give it a try."

"How?" the boy asked again.

Picking up his blindfold and tying it carefully around Ezra's own eyes, he slowly spun the boy about. "All right, Ezra, I want you to listen carefully, then walk toward the first sound you hear."

"O- okay."

Ezra stood still for several moments, the infirmary almost eerily silent, neither of its other two occupants making any noise. Hera had set Bodhi the task of minding the two children while she found food for all of them, and he was taking to the task with gusto. But for now, it seemed that both he and Sabine wanted to see what Ezra might do.

The sound in question wound up being Hera as she entered the room, the sound of a basket bumping against her leg indicating to Chirrut that she'd been successful in her quest, and the sound of Chopper’s caw at her shoulder telling that the bird had already taken his dues.

"Breakfast!" she called out. Ezra immediately started moving toward her. "Oh? What's this?" she asked with a light laugh as the little boy fumbled his way over to her.

"Bit of an impromptu lesson," Chirrut answered with a chuckle of his own. He heard Ezra half crash into the woman, arms quickly wrapping around her legs to keep himself from falling. Hera laughed as she removed the blindfold.

"And was the lesson a success?" she asked.

"I found you!" Ezra declared, pleased with himself.

"Rousing success, I would say."

"Think you could do me a favor and take Chirrut his breakfast?" Hera asked the little boy, who agreed enthusiastically. In another few moments, Chirrut found his blindfold being laid back in his lap, along with the scent of fresh bread and a hint of apple filling his nose. This was followed by the feel of a warm loaf being pressed into his hands and an apple being laid beside the blindfold.

"Do you understand, little one?"

"Ah fink so," the six-year-old answered through a mouthful of apple. "You can see stuff wiff fings 'sides yo' eyes."

"Something like that, yes," the blind warrior said before biting into the fresh-baked loaf of bread. In truth, his own senses were a bit more complex than that, but it was a good starting point to learn from. And he could tell that the boy had a long ways yet to go.

"Well, that's Chirrut all over. A lesson before breakfast, lunch, and dinner," Hera said as she carried the basket over to Sabine and Bodhi.

"Miss Hera?" the girl started to ask. "Is there anything I can help with?"

"You don't need to help at all, Sabine. You'll be here until your wounds heal a little better. I just want you to focus on healing right now."

"But I- I should be earning our keep...shouldn't I?"

"I promise you, dear heart, you don't need to worry about a thing. If you end up staying with us, things like that can come later. But for now, you and Ezra are our guests. We'll take care of you until you're feeling better."

"Oh. I...okay."

"But if you'd like something to keep yourself occupied in the meantime, I can give you that."

"Yeah?" Sabine asked, immediately perking up.

"I'm sure Bodhi's worn out from this latest round of healing. He can only do so much at once, after all. We have an audience with Prince Orrelios later today and I'm sure he'd like to freshen up a bit. You can help him rebraid his hair if you'd like."

Chirrut felt excitement radiating off of the girl like rays of sunshine. Turning to Bodhi for permission, she asked him, "C- can I?"

"Of course, little one," the young man agreed with a warm laugh of his own. It wasn't long before Chirrut heard the sound of a brush being run through Bodhi's long hair.

"So how are you holding up, old owl?" Hera asked as she came to sit beside him on his cot, beginning to munch on an apple herself.

"Just fine, really. I know the healers wanted to keep me here another day to be certain, but I truly don't think it will be necessary. The wound seems to have mostly healed."

"And that of itself is something worth noting. You- really ought to be dead now," she said, voice heavy with both exhaustion and relief.

"That is what people keep telling me, and yet they always seem to be wrong."

"And you've honestly never been hit with cold iron before?"

"Never," he said, voice dropping lower to avoid rousing the interest of the other three, hoping to leave them to their own devices. A sense of peace pervaded the three that he knew couldn't last forever and he wanted them to have as much time as they could. "But I've no more answer to offer than anyone else. I have experienced my fair share of oddities in my time, but this is something entirely new to me."

It didn't bode well, he knew. Not that he wasn't pleased to still be drawing breath or anything of that nature. It was just- a power like this...he had never known its like before. The fact that he had been killed, but still lived...it spoke to something off in the very dimensions of reality itself. It was a danger, both to himself and to everyone he cared for, but as of this moment, he had no help for it. He would just have to wait.

"In the meantime, though," he continued, a different sort of warning sparking at the edges of his awareness, "I believe someone who is actually in need of a healer's aid is on the approach."

"Hmm?" Hera started, shifting to look toward the entrance to the infirmary. Almost immediately, Zeb's heavy footfalls entered the space, along with the whisper of booted feet being dragged over stone. Hera was quickly back on her feet. "My Gods, what happened?"

"Nothing," Kanan's weakened voice answered. "I just- couldn't quite make it all the way back on my own. Zeb helped me out."

Hera groaned in frustration. "You know, I told you not to go down there for a reason. I hope what you learned was worth risking your health over."

"That remains to be seen," Baze's voice joined in, and while Zeb helped Kanan over to a cot, Chirrut's husband came to sit beside him on his.

"What did you learn, then?" Chirrut asked him, breaking off a hunk of his loaf and passing it to the larger man.

"Lady Orrelios knows the man. He's under some kind of geas of the Fey king's, so we won't get anything from him. She's going to try and work through it, but it will take time. Also seems that Zeb's young man is among the faeries."

"Ah. The Alexsandr we've heard so much about."

"The same. The story just keeps getting more and more complicated."

"And will continue to do so, I have little doubt. You can tell me all about it later. For now, I would like to enjoy my breakfast in relative peace."

"You are all right?" his husband asked in his typical gruff voice, but the tone was undercut by the gentle hand he rested on his knee.

"Perfectly fine. I simply feel that...we are very near an edge. I couldn't say what, but...it seems to me we ought to take moments like this where we may," he said, smiling faintly as he listened to Hera fuss over Kanan and Zeb, listened to Ezra begin to ask the green knight about his trick with the trees, and listened to Sabine and Bodhi laugh together as she braided his hair, talking about finding feathers and beads to add in.

It was a tender moment. Close as they all were, it was the sort of thing that happened rarely in their lives, so the blind warrior sat basking in it, with the taste of warm food in his mouth and laughter in the air and his love by his side.

They would all need this later.

The ongoing story’s available right here.

This is just a preview of the third chapter, which will be out next week, but is available right now on my Patreon, if you’d like to check that out.

#Fairytale AU #spiritassassin #kalluzeb #Chirrut Imwe #ezra bridger #sabine wren #bodhi rook #Fan fic #Star Wars

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the-everlasting-dream · 6 years

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What Happens On The Island.. (Mature) - Sonia x MC

Summary: The part about getting shipwrecked on the island, Sonia didn’t tell her boss about.

A/N: Sooo after Chapter 5 of The Heist: Monaco I knew I couldn’t let that escape without doing something for my MC and Sonia. Considering Blaze’s character, this basically wrote itself. Basic scene and dialogue borrowed from canon.

Sonia FC: Valerie Abou Chacra Blaze FC: Toni Mafud

Song: Bad Boys - Zara Larsson

Word Count: 5.8k - its worth it i promise

Warnings: Erotica, 18+ material, lemon or whatever we’ve decided to call it. I’m not responsible if you wanna ignore the warnings.

Tags: @choicessa , @mariamulroney , @drakewalkerwhipped , @thewolvesss , @mfackenthal , @srawesleyghuewrites , @topsyturvy-dream , @enmchoices , @gardeningourmet @debramcg1106 , @alesana45 , @meladoridarcy, @blackcatkita , @tmarie82 , @annekebbphotography , @lizk77 , @jayjay879 , @tornbetween2loves , @akrenich , @theroyalweisme , @likethetailofacomet , @sleepwalkingelite , @littleblossom-18 , @ooo-barff-ooo , @drakewalker04 , @mkatschoicesblog , @speedyoperarascalparty , @carabeth , @fairydustandsarcasm , @drakewalkerisreal @mrsnazariowrites @androgynousflowerqueen

Cool, calm and collected, as they said. Sonia hated platitudes but not as much as she hated what she termed emotional leakage. She despised the way girls used to — and still did — fawn over the men they were interested in, their innermost feelings written all across their faces for the world to see. She resolved never to be like them Strength and discipline, Hasaan’s voice came back to her. The height of a man's success is gauged by his self-mastery; the depth of his failure by his self-abandonment. The image of her military instructor, a big rough Lebanese man, appearing back in her mind along with memories of countless drills, hours of torturous labour in the hot sticky Amazonian jungle, drilling into her the two principles she would stand by for the rest of her life.

Or rather until the last few hours.

Blaze, the head of the thieving crew her boss Ansel has tasked her with finding and capturing layed on the sand not too far away from her. She’d been holding him at gunpoint in a speedboat routed to take him straight to jail when a massive storm hit, toppling their tiny vessel. She was determined to make it to a nearby island when she say Blaze get overpowered by a huge wave and something in her couldn’t stand to let him drown. After pulling him to shore with her, she’d lit a fire to warm herself and was watching at he groggily came to.

‘Sonia…’ Blaze's expression was shocked for a moment until it morphed into the smirk she was beginning to associate with him. ‘You really wanted to get me alone huh?’

Her mouth opened to protest. If he should have been annoyed or threatened by the image of his rival sitting calmly across from him, he showed no sign of it, and instead his smirk grew wider.

‘I can’t deny the chemistry between us but stranding us on an island is a bit drastic, don’t you think?’

The corners of her mouth jerked up slightly before Sonia realised it and she immediately recovered herself, going back to her default impassive expression. He was not going to shake her. ‘Surely you can’t think this is the time for jokes?’ Blaze accepted her mocking tone with a grin of his own.

‘How can I resist when I’ve got such a captive audience? Anyways wanna tell me how I got here? Last I remember all you’d lost control of the boat.’

Rolling her eyes internally, Sonia went back to poking at the flames of the small fire she’d built in the time that he was unconscious. What had she been thinking? Blaze was her mark, the target her boss had set her on to be eliminated in whatever means necessary. Yet she couldn’t deny the feeling of guilt she’d felt when the huge wall of water had knocked him over the side of the boat, something strange inside her compelled her, she couldn’t just let him die. Why couldn’t she? It would have made her job a helluva lot easier… She savagely jabbed her stick at the fire.

‘Fine. You wanna know what happened? You went over the side like a goddamn idiot and I…’

Fuck what was wrong with her? Again that feeling in her chest tightened as she risked a quick glance up at his curious expression before fixing her gaze at her feet.

‘…I couldn’t just let you drown.’

The genuine surprise in his tone was unmistakable. ‘You saved my life?’

Anger flared up inside Sonia. Hassan had been right. She never had the guts to make the call.

‘I did what I had to. No need to dwell on it.’

For a moment she thought he was going to push her but Blaze had obviously recovered from his initial shock, his trademark smugness returning.

‘Knew you had a soft spot for me. Admit it, we may be on different sides…’ He paused long enough to tempt her to raise her head in his direction and like a fool she fell for it, catching the glint of mischief in his eyes. ‘You kinda like me..'

Again Sonia couldn’t hide her initial smile, attempting to disguise it with a joke and a roll of her eyes, hoping he wouldn’t see the effect he had on her. ‘In your dreams. You must be more oxygen deprived than I thought.’

The words were out of her mouth before she knew it and she chastised herself severely. Fraternising with her prisoner was a surefire way to lose her focus and now that they were alone, she needed to be sharper than ever. She had no idea if Blaze would attempt anything but she inwardly steeled herself to be ready for anything.

‘The sooner we get back to the mainland, the better,’ Sonia announced, more for her own benefit. And the sooner I can get my head back in the game. Been here a few hours and this place is already messing with my head.. She looked out at the water surrounding them. ‘My people are looking for us but they won’t know which island we’re on.’

A wet rustling alerted her that Blaze was sifting through his clothes, obviously going for the ear piece she’d found in the pocket of his jeans when she’d searched him earlier.

‘Don’t bother,’ she told him, glad she could find a flaw in his usual cool facade when the device blinked off. ‘I already tried, I was hoping you’d have something useful under that getup of yours…'

Too late Sonia realised her mistake and Blaze’s smug smirk was back as he sat on a log opposite her. ‘You frisked me? While I was unconscious? If I’d known you were that eager, I’d have woken up a lot sooner.’

His blatant remark made her eyebrows shoot up as she unsuccessfully tried to back track.

‘I wasn’t- that is…’ Come on Sonia, get a hold of yourself.

She cleared her throat. ‘I needed to take stock of what resources we had, and make sure you didn’t have any concealed weapons..’ ‘I’m sure you were very thorough.’

She could feel his grin. ‘Found anything… of interest?

She forced herself to meet his eyes. ‘Not in the slightest. If you hadn’t cut me off before I gave Ansel our coordinates, at least my people would know where to start looking.’

Blaze’s eyes hardened a little, reminding her of the differing sides they were on. ‘The way I see it, I bought my crew some time to find us.’

Sonia had to give credit where it was due, drawing random patterns in the sand. ‘That was a smart move, I’ll give you that. If it didn’t piss me off so much I’d actually be impressed.’

‘Oh I’ve got a lot more where that came from.’

The light from the fire flickered in Blaze’s eyes and he held her gaze just long enough to wonder whether he meant anything else by that statement.

‘We should figure out how big this island is, get to the other coast if possible,’ he spoke up re-entering her thoughts to their current situation.

‘Agreed. We should examine our surroundings and see if we can find anything useful. But I don’t need you slowing me down.' With his long legs, that was a very minuscule possibility but Sonia couldn’t resist the jab just to remind him again what sides they were on, hoping to get just as much of a reaction from him as he seemed to have no trouble getting plenty from her. However Blaze seemed infuriatingly unshaken.

‘Don’t worry chief.’ A ghost of a grin played on his lips. ‘I can hold my own.’

That stupid handsome face of his seemed to taunt her, eyebrows raising in just the slightest to see how she would react and another rush of irritation filled Sonia. She had been trained in a hard school but how was he getting past her defences so easily? She may as well have been one of those prattling airheads she despised so much. Before she could embarrass herself any further, Sonia made a split second decision.

‘Fine. But you’d better keep up with me ‘cause I’m not waiting for you.’ With that she stood up and stalked off into the forest, not bothering to look behind her if Blaze was following or not.

As she’d predicted, he had no trouble catching up but she still continued on at the cracking pace she’d set, determined not to show any more weakness. Patches of moonlight filtered through the scraggly canopy providing some visibility through the undergrowth, allowing them to pick throw way through the knots of foliage that covered the ground.

At some point, Sonia glanced up to get her bearings again, everything looking the same in the dim light. In that moment she hadn’t been watching where she put her feet and in her haste her shoe caught on an overgrown tree root, pitching her straight towards the ground. Instinctively she threw her hands out to brace for impact against the dirt but it never came. Instead, strong hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her upright again. She glanced up to see Blaze staring down at her with mild concern in his dark eyes.

‘You okay?’

She nodded, feeling the warmth from his body in such close proximity to hers seep through her still-damp clothes as the faint smell of his cologne reached her nose. They’d just been tossed off a boat and waterlogged, how did he still smell so good?

In that moment Sonia was acutely aware of how blue his eyes were now that she had a proper look at them. She’d never seen such a vivid shade of blue, particularly in someone of his ethnicity so close to her own and she took a moment to silently appreciate that. He allowed her to look, the intense gaze they shared setting off a spark of heat in her lower abdomen. A bat screech ripped through the air breaking her from her trance and suddenly aware that she’d been staring too long, she cleared her throat, stepping decisively out of his hold, her mid section cold from where his hands had been.

‘Thanks.’

‘Well you did save my life. Guess we’re equal now..’

Making the executive decision to ignore the comment, she turned and continued to march through the forest, much more observant of where she put her feet this time, not wanting to have a repeat of that incident.

Or did she?

Sonia shook her head to clear it, blaming it on the island and the obvious oxygen deprivation she’d experience for her lapses in judgement. She still felt the spark of heat in her belly, though it had grown to become a tiny flame and immediately chastised herself once again. She was working in security for one of the most extravagant weddings of the decade and he was the conman attempting to upstage her efforts. She should hate him, turn him in, be abhorred by the kind of person he was to attempt to pull off the very thing she was hoping to avoid.

Yet she couldn’t deny the obvious chemistry she felt between them. He clearly must have felt it too or else he wouldn’t have been teasing her so much right? She shook her head. Maybe that just been so long since she… Under the cover of the trees, her face turned away from Blaze’s Sonia blushed at the realisation of how much time had passed since… Yes it had to be that. Her imagination running away from her, making her concoct things that weren’t there.

Strength and discipline, Sonia. Don’t you forget that. Out of the corner of her eye, she barely registered Blaze’s arm surging forward and her instincts dialled to eleven, ready to execute a perfect right hook when her mind intervened to see he was just holding a branch out of her way so she could avoid getting hit.

‘I don’t need your assistance,’ she snapped haughtily, embarrassed. Hasaan would have been livid at her for be caught dreaming for the second time. Still the polite side of her refused to let this go unnoticed. ‘But thanks..’

Blaze waved a hand in dismissal, making her frown. The last thing she wanted to be was indebted to a glorified burglar. The pause made Sonia stop and consider her bearings. They had reached the edge of the forest now and she could see a path leading to a small beach.

Just how far had they gone?

Sonia turned around to ask him and her eyes immediately widened at the sight she was met with. Blaze had stopped a few paces behind her, arms bent behind his head to grab the collar of his t-shirt. She could not for the life of her tear her gaze away from the way the corded muscles flexed as he pulled the garment over his head, ruffling his dark hair in the process as the moonlight shining through the scraggly trees lit up his athletic figure. Her eyes drifted lower of their own accord and her breath caught in her throat as the sight of his muscled chest, sporting just the right amount of neatly clipped dark hair that ran down his torso, past his still flexed abs before the narrow line disappeared past the hem of his jeans, hung low on his hips.

Of course he was perfect.

Her mouth suddenly seemed dry and she caught herself running her tongue over her lips to wet them, displeased at the amount of emotional leakage she had allowed herself exhibit.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ She snapped, more annoyed at herself than him.

Blaze lifted his tousled head, casting her a quizzical look that somehow still managed to make her lower belly tingle. ‘Taking my shirt off?’

Sonia sighed in irritation. ‘I can see that. Why is that necessary?’

‘I don’t know about you sweetheart but my clothes are sopping wet after you just got us tossed out of our vehicle and stranded on a damn island with no backup. I prefer to return to civilisation without a head cold.'

‘Don’t call me sweetheart,’ she snapped backhandedly, the feeling her own drenched outfit became much more noticeable.

Blaze regarded her for a moment, arms crossed over his bare chest as his eyes gave her a once over. ‘Yeah you’re definitely not sweet. Salty’s more like it.’

‘I am not salty!’

He shrugged his muscled shoulders and she wondering how the action was both annoying and attractive at the same time. ‘Whatever you say, chief.’

Sonia rolled her eyes, understanding that she was clearly not going to win this. When they resumed their pace, she detected a soft clinking from beside her and looked over to see two dog tags hanging from a silver chain around Blaze’s neck, illuminated by the silvery light of the moon. Squinting she could make out Arabic lettering stamped there, her mother tongue she’d never bothered to learn.

‘Didn’t take you for the sentimental type,’ she ventured, tipping her chin at them.

Following her gaze, Blaze immediately folded his arms across his chest to hide the tags from her view, his tone closed when he spoke. ‘Curiosity isn’t a good look on you chief.’

Judging by the total shift in his mood, she’d obviously touched on a sensitive subject and when Sonia opened her mouth to apologise, he cut her off with a pointed finger at a dark shape washed up on the beach. ‘Look.’

‘Our speedboat?’

Stepping closer, her eyes scanned the small object, slightly battered by the storm but in one piece nonetheless. ‘You’ve gotta be kidding me. That means we…'

Blaze grinned back at her widely. 'We’ve found a way off this godforsaken island.’

A matching smile of relief broke out across her own face and in her excitement she grabbed his arm, shaking it in glee. Then her rational mind seemed to kick in and she abruptly dropped his arm when she remembered who he was, who she was and what roles they were playing.

‘This changes nothing,’ she declared, not sure if it was for his benefit or hers.

He shrugged and they both made their way over to the vessel. Climbing in, Sonia began to sift through paraphernalia that had accumulated in the bottom, spying a pair of oars.

‘I don’t mean to kill the mood, but there’s a hole in our boat.’

Blaze's voice rang into her ear much closer than she was have expected and she turned in surprise only to find him right there in her space, the only thing separating them being the side of the hull.

For the second time in god knows how long, Sonia found herself staring up at her “prisoner", her own heart hammering her rib cage at just how close they were. The heat in her belly reignited for renewed vigour, standing so close she could feel his body heat radiating towards her. Her gaze dropped to his lips, inches away from her own, suddenly looking very enticing. If she wanted to, all she had to do was stretch up onto her toes and …. Her conscience tapped her on the shoulder and she forced herself to look away.

‘What have you got in mind?’ Blaze asked.

Definitely not wondering what it’d be like to kiss you.

‘We should fix it… fix the boat…’ She stammered, finding it very hard to concentrate with him shirtless and leaning on the side.

‘They teach you any of that in wilderness survival camp?'

‘Yeah we should… we should check the back, see if there’s anything that could help us there.’

In her haste to put some space between them, Sonia misjudged the height of the boat’s raised interior in comparison to the ground below and her foot caught on the railing when she tried to swing her other leg over, tipping her off balance.

For the second time that night, Sonia found herself plastered across Blaze’s body, her hands planted on his bare chest, feeling the muscles flex as his hands settled comfortably on her waist, their faces inches away. The fire roared up in her belly as his blue gaze drifted down to settle on her lips and she knew he was thinking about kissing her. They stood locked in that position for one long desirous moment before it became too much for her to bear, his touch, his smell, the anticipation of what it would feel like to taste him in her mouth, all male, all for her, in a single tryst that could be their dirty little secret if she so wished. Everything about this went against everything she stood by but she couldn’t deny that every part of her wanted, desire, needed this, more than she could fathom.

Unable to contain her need any longer, Sonia pressed her lips to his in one swift motion and Blaze responded immediately, stroking the fire in her belly to new heights. Her eyes tilted shut and she allowed herself to get lost in the moment and in him. It was everything she’d imagined and more, the taste of him etched itself onto her brain and once she’d tried it, she knew she’d never forget it. Desire flooded through her as he deepened the kiss, hands beginning to explore her body but she couldn’t concentrate on anything other than the sensation of his tongue licking her lower lip, requesting access which she readily gave him.

'This changes nothing.’ She pushed at his chest.

'Who says it does?’ he drawled huskily, reconnecting their lips again as he began to tug at her clothes.

'I’m still gonna be coming after your ass,' Sonia murmured, mouth still pressed against his, word forming around the kisses they exchanged.

Blaze pulled back, mischief glinting in his eyes. 'God I hope so.'

She frowned, he had to know what this was to her. 'I mean it, I’m still working for Ans-'

‘Mmm you talk too much.’

He cut her off with a kiss so passionate, Sonia swore she saw stars. Moaning she drew him in closer, kissing him harder as they began to grind against each other desperately at the side of the boat. She was so wet, she wondered if he could feel it through the layers of their already damp clothes. They parted for another gasp of air and weaving her fingers into his soft hair, she pulled him to her roughly, lips slamming onto each others as they fumbled their way to the flat back of the speedboat.

Up til now she’d had a code. Right was right and wrong was wrong. Black and white, she’d always seen the world like that but now that she was looking into his eyes, Sonia realised there was a bit of grey there too. As her back bumped into the side of the speedboat, Blaze tugged on her long hair, exposing her neck to lick the soft skin there and she took her opportunity to explore his body, hands running over the taut fired in the muscles of his chest, biceps corded tight as he reached down to knead her ass. She’d never been touched like this, been manhandled by someone who had absolutely no doubt in himself whatsoever.

‘What do you want Sonia?’ he growled the words into her skin, sending aftershocks rippling down her body.

Her hips seemed to move with a mind of their own, grinding sloppily where they met his hardening member over the top of their clothes. Wasn’t that enough of an answer for him? Or was he really going to make her say it?

As if in answer to her question, Blaze pulled away, hair dishevelled from where she’d run her hands through it, eyes locked on hers with an intensity that dared her to lie.

‘Tell me what you want.’

Lips still stinging from their ferocious kisses, Sonia swallowed, so choked with need too distracted by the sensation of his fingers playing at the edge of her shirt.

‘Tell me what you want.’ The commanding tone pulled an answer from her.

‘I want you to take me.’

Her voice sounded pathetic even to her own ears but she barely got time to dwell on it before his lips were back on hers, kissing her harder than she’d ever been kissed before. HIs hands, thieves hands, worked at her clothes quicker than her lust-addled mind could follow and she couldn’t help a gasp of surprise when the cool night air caressed her breasts. Blaze took a step back, having stripped down to his boxers now, eyes roaming liberally over her body and she had a strange urge to cover up under his intense gaze.

'I don’t do this very often,’ she told him in a small voice, crossing her arms across her chest protectively.

’Doesn’t bother me,’ he replied, his nonchalance surprising her. ‘You’re a pretty girl, don’t doubt that for a second.’

Strangely comforted by his words, Sonia welcomed him back into her arms, fingers threading into his hair as he leaned down to coax her nipples to full attention, lavishing them with both his hands and tongue until her skin rippled with goosebumps. She couldn’t help a low moan from escaping when he worked at the fastening of her pants, tapping her once to lift her ass so he could pull the damp material off her body.

'Jesus, how longs it been Sonia?’ Blaze asked at the sight of her plain, completely un-sexy cotton panties, running his fingers over the dampening material.

Sonia was glad for a low lighting to hide the blush from her cheeks. She hated how transparent she was to him but the fire inside her far out burned that it threatened to overwhelm her. She couldn’t let him see how weak she was for him and willed her defensiveness to kick in again.

‘Shut up and get back to it Blaze.'

‘As the lady commands,’ he replied snarkily before returning to that commanding tone. ‘Lie down.’

That position would be putting her at a disadvantage, sprawled out across the back of the boat, far away from anything she could have used as a weapon in case this turned south. One glance back at Blaze told Sonia, that was right where he wanted her. She however complied. Blaze hooked his fingers under the material of her panties, blue eyes never leaving hers as he slowly and deliberately pulled them down her legs. On the way back up, he gave her thighs tiny kitten licks before blowing on her dripping sex lightly. She silently thanked the gods she’d had the sense to go for a wax earlier that week.

Looking her right in the eye, Blaze softly traced the folds of her sex, steadily avoiding her clit. He was teasing her, having his way with her while she was at his mercy. She dug her nails into his arm, silently urging him to go deeper shut her eyes at the contact and he finally moved closer to her soaking lips, centered his tongue at the lowest point of her glistening core. Sonia felt herself inhale sharply as finally his tongue met her lips.

Ever so softly he ran the tip of his tongue up the full length of her tight slit, ending with a flick across the nub of her throbbing clit, eliciting a strangled gasp from her. She felt the tip of his finger apply just slight pressure to her sex just as Blaze's mouth returned to her slit, his tongue probing deep between her lips and licking from bottom to top before he added another finger. She moaned finally feeling the full effect of his mouth on her pussy, every ripple of pleasure unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. She reached down with one hand and grabbed at his dark hair to try and hold him there and provide some support for the feelings that rose in her, radiating up from between her legs. He licked her expertly, knowing exactly what to do to urge her body towards her climax while all she could do was grab at her breasts massaging as she continued to moan, arching her back off the boat’s edge.

It could have been hours or just minutes Sonia couldn’t tell all she could focus on was the sensation of Blaze’s fingers working inside her, alternating in a pattern designed perfectly to bring her to the edge. You deserve better, he’d said. Was this better? Her core sure seemed to think so, the heat boiling to an unbearable degree before it finally exploded and her vision swam. Body convulsing, she came with a loud wordless gasp, unable to concentrate on anything other than the electricity cracking through her body.

She was panting like she’d just ran a marathon at full sprint and stared up at him with slightly unfocused eyes.

‘Y-You clearly d-do this a lot,’ her voice was a strangled murmur.

Blaze’s signature smirk curved across his mouth, still wet with her juices. 'Often enough.'

Oh that smirk would be the death of her.

Just one glance at that smile had her ready to go again, so lust driven for him that, she barely recognised herself at this point. Now that she’d had a taste of what he could really do, there was little her principles could do to stop her from pulling him in for another heated kiss, this time enhanced by the flavour of herself mingling on his tongue as it slipped effortlessly into her mouth.

Usually she would have blushed in embarrassment but tonight she just couldn’t get enough of the taste of them together, hands boldly reaching for his underwear, taking a peek at the brand of good measure — Calvin Klein, why am I not surprised…? — when he ground his hardening member into her open palm. Gods he was going to be huge, and this wasn’t even at full size yet and for a moment Sonia hesitated, doubting if she could take all of him without being split in half. Blaze didn’t give her a moment to dwell on this, kissing her so deeply she knew she’d never get the taste of him out of her mouth. That was all she needed, she was ready now and he picked up on it immediately.

He shrugged out of his underwear and his member sprang up against his belly, the veiny ridges illuminated perfectly in the light of the moon. Sonia couldn’t help her mouth from dropping open. However big she’d imagined him to be he was even bigger, definitely the biggest she’d seen ever.

Sonia felt the head of his cock nudge her opening, willing herself to relax as Blaze easily manoeuvred himself into the tight opening, lubricated her juices he continued to slowly push into her, half inch by half inch. Pushed to the very edge from all his teasing and the raw sexual tension that had been building the entire night, Sonia could already feel her orgasm build as soon as he entered her. This slow press into her depths kept the feeling building but only delayed any relief. It was one of the best feelings she decided, amidst the intense pleasure surging through her. At this angle, he filled her to the absolute brim and she couldn’t help watching herself take every inch he gave her before her eyes flicked up to his, watching him watch her face contort in ecastasy. She’d never been filled as totally and completely as she was right then, knowing no one she’d ever been with or would ever be with would measure up either length or width.

With Blaze’s eyes trained on hard, she took his cock, first in slow strokes that rubbed onto the g-spot on the front wall of her pussy then faster, pressing forward, exploring her depths. Finally, Blaze’s hips hit her own, his balls pressed between them and she couldn’t help but writhe, moaning, tightening her walls further to force some movement as he waited, his cock buried inside and filling her. A low growl erupted from his throat, enjoying the feeling as she squeezed his cock tightly then he slowly flexed his ass, his thighs pressing against the softness of her, pushing just slightly further with each small slow thrust keeping his cock fully embedded between. They’d barely started and already she could feel the wave of pleasure begin to come to a crest, the relief she desired was almost here.

'Oooooohhhhh god!' Sonia exclaimed as her orgasm descended on her with no warning and her head spun with euphoria, barely able to keep herself steady. Strong tremors wracked her body as she soaked his cock with her juices, chest panting heavily. Body spent, she looked up at Blaze through half lidded eyes as he slowly pulled out and a flicker of confusion rippled through her. Wasn’t he going to…?

One moment those blue eyes seared into hers and his hands were on her hips, turning her onto her stomach in one smooth motion so abruptly, Sonia heard herself squeak in alarm. This time Blaze wasn’t gentle with burying himself entirely in her and she moaned so loud. His message was clear, she’d had her turn, now it was his. Breasts plastered across the boat’s edge, there was a slight quiver in her arms as she tried to push herself back onto him but ultimately failed, unable to match his incredible stamina. She moaned for him, his name, incoherent sounds, all letting him know she was ready for more and sped up his thrusts, trying to push down and focus the pressure on the front wall of her pussy and g-spot. Both their bodies slick with sweat, slammed together loudly in the night air. The boat began to shift slightly under the force of their fucking, threatening to give out under them and send them sailing out to sea but Sonia dug her toes into the sand, determined not to let anything get in the way of the glorious euphoria coursing through her.

Blaze’s hips hit her ass over and over, plunging himself into her as a hand wrapped itself into her dark hair. Sonia clutched at his strong forearms propping himself on the surface of the boat until the sensation of having him in her finally exploded in an inferno that flashed her vision white hot.

‘Oh Blaaaaaaze- God!! !' She screamed into the night, as his fingers flicked her clit in time with the flames that set her on fire. 'Oh, fuck, oh, oh god, oh god, oh god.’ She moaned loudly, grasped desperately at the boat, one hand above her head the other on the edge as she gasping for air, grinding herself back onto him to get as much out of her orgasm as possible while her legs began to shake uncontrollably.

Blaze’s thrusts began to lose their fluid rhythm, becoming more erratic as he slammed himself into her a few more times before yanking out of her pulsing sex and pumping himself furiously sending thick spurts of cum onto her ass and lower back, with a groan. The contact making her flinch at the contact, still hypersensitive, barely registering as he fell forward onto his arms leaning over her body. She was completely and utterly sated, spent beyond her limit and despite her instincts, the act of keeping her eyes open suddenly seemed too much to execute and Sonia drifted off into a deep sleep. The whirr of a motor boat shook her from the sleep and she glanced up in time to see Blaze stepping into the vessel, welcomed by a man and woman she could not recognise. She glanced down in a panic but found that somehow she was now fully clothed, almost as if nothing had happened. If not for the slight soreness between her legs, she would have been tempted to think she’d dreamt it up.

‘Where do you think you're going?’ She snapped in irritation, making him glance over his shoulder back at her.

‘Away from here…?’

‘But.. but..’ Sonia cursed herself for fumbling, her mistake only bringing that devilish smirk back to Blaze’s face.

‘Sorry sweetheart I had a good time but we’ve both got jobs to do and I intend to do it before your people find me,’ he gestured over his shoulder where another boat was approaching.

‘You can’t just leave!’ She yelled back running after him but their boat was already setting off into sea.

'Relax Chief,’ That devilishly handsome grin of his widened and Blaze had the audacity to wink at her as he sped out of view, calling out across the water. ‘What happens on the island, stays on the island!'

#sonia x mc #THM sonia #THM #the heist: monaco #blaze is up for anything #choices thm #playchoices #choices fandom #choices fanfiction #lemon #30 diamond scene #n*fw

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