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the--rebel--fae · 3 months ago

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Catch and Release ~ Ch. 1

A/N: I thought I might share one of my story commissions that I did that I'm particularly proud of to show you guys the possibilities of what y'all can get if you commission a story from me from my Etsy store. You can either have a one shot or multi chapter like I'm about to show y'all. I'll give you guys the link to the shop down below!

Also! All OC credit goes to @nevewidow and so does the story idea! I just bring her ideas to life :)

CW: Swearing, Spoilers for sabaody archipelago. Other than that just fluff and comedy.

So without further ado....

Catch and Release ~ Ch 1

“Guys! She’s finally waking up!”

“Not so close Luffy, you’ll scare her. Poor girl has clearly been through a lot.”

“Sorry Nami.”

“Such a beautiful girl.”

“Don’t creep on her, Sanji.”

“Nami! I wasn’t! I was admiring a marvel of beauty in front of me.”

“Uh-huh.”

Camie’s eyes slowly started to crack open, showing her dark purple irises. She let out a soft groan not fully aware of the group around here just yet. But after a few moments, she became all too aware letting out a large gasp, her eyes wide and tongue sticking out of her mouth in a zig-zag motion showing how surprised she was to not only be on a ship instead of the belly of a sea beast, but also surrounded by a rather large group of people.

“Hey? Are you ok?” A boy who looked around her age said. He had dark black hair and was sporting a red vest shirt and shorts with a vaguely familiar-looking straw hat.

Camie tilted her head to the side for a moment in thought, making her green hair sway a bit. ‘He looks familiar.’ She thought. Then after a moment, it came to her. “You’re Monkey D. Luffy!” Camie exclaimed. She looked at the group around her with delight and awe. “And you’re Nami, you’re Usopp, you’re Roronoa Zora, you’re Chopper, you’re Sanji, you’re Robin, you’re Franky, and you’re Brook! I’ve heard about you! You guys are the Straw Hats!”

Luffy laughed at Camie’s excitement, obviously happy to not only see that she was ok, but that she was excited to meet the one and only Straw Hat Pirates.

“Yep! That’s us! Nice ta meetcha!”

“How the hell did you end up being swallowed by the giant Sea King? It took quite a lot of work to get you out of there.” Zoro asked, his arms crossed not fully trusting her.

“Now, now, Zoro, don't be so harsh on the young miss.” Brook chastised.

Camie just shook her head. “It’s ok, I understand. My situation isn’t exactly a common one even though it happens so often to me. Eh-heh.” She scratched her neck bashfully.

“WHAT?!” The whole crew exclaimed.

She giggled. “Heh, yea. Though this time, I actually have a good excuse. But that’s also good I ran into you guys! You guys can help me! Oh! But first,” Camie grabbed a tray of Takoyaki out of seemingly nowhere. “How would you guys like some Takoyaki? It’s a house special from where I work! It’s not even that pricey!”

Luffy and Zoro were about to grab some when a voice sounded out from somewhere behind Camie. “Camie! You should be giving that Takoyaki for free since they saved you! And aren’t you forgetting something? A certain pair of best friends perhaps?”

Camie made another surprised face, then put the Takoyaki aside. “Oh my gosh, Pappag you’re right!”

“Is that a talking Starfish?” Chopper asked, clearly surprised.

Camie nodded. “Yep! He’s Pappag, but I’ll explain his story later. I need your guy’s help. My friends got captured, and you guys are the only ones who can help. Please?”

“Your friends?” Nami asked. “What happened to them?”

“Well you see, it all happened when we were just enjoying ourselves and making a new batch of Takoyaki.”

***

Argelia hummed a little tune as she, Camie, and Hatchan all worked together to make a new batch of Takoyaki for Hatchan’s restaurant. Now, Argelia usually liked to keep to herself for the most part, seeing that most humans and unfortunately fishmen as well were in her words “bastardasos”, but after Camie and Hatchan got her out of a tough spot one time, the two dorks just kind of grew on her.

She finished putting the balls of Takoyaki into the fryer and was about to make another comment about how truly ridiculous Hatchan looked in his new “chef’s outfit” as he dubbed it,--he looked more like a glorified human fry cook to her. It was amusing to tease the Fishman, but her plan was quickly interrupted when her danger sense practically yelled at her.

Argelia turned to look out at the sea and in mere seconds, she saw it: A pirate ship flag. Not just any pirates though. The Flying Fish Pirates. They had a bad reputation with Hatchan and on top of that, they were known to capture any fish folk and sell them at the evil auctions down at Sabaody. And people like her and Camie were known as “hot commodities.” Sick bastards.

All of a sudden it was like everything moved in slow motion. The ship came extremely close, darts and sea stone nets were being thrown and the next thing Argelia knew, both she and Hatchan were diving in front of Camie and taking the capturing blows to save her.

‘Well, as they say, stupid minds think alike.’ Argelia thought as everything went dark around her and she felt herself slip into unconsciousness.

***

“That’s horrible that happened! No beautiful lady should have to go through that. And to be eaten by a Sea king so quickly after.” Sanji said with a sad look.

“The name Hatchin sounds vaguely familiar though,” Zoro muttered.

“It’s settled then! We’ll track those pirates down and save your friends!” Luffy cheered out.

Camie smiled gratefully at the crew. For once, she was glad she was eaten by that Sea King.

***

Out of everything Camie expected when she guided the Straw Hat Crew to find the Flying Fish Crew, she most certainly was not expecting this.

Once they got on the ship it was complete chaos. Granted she teamed up with the Straw Hat pirates so this was to be pretty much expected. But she didn’t think that the minute they got onto the ship, everyone would be involved in an immediate fight.

It turns out that the captain, Duval, had a major grudge towards Sanji just because he had the unfortunate circumstance of looking like one of his wanted posters.

Hatchin even apparently had a past with the Straw Hats so that was a battle in itself to truly try to convince them to save him. Thankfully they decided to put that aside and save him. Good thing too, otherwise Camie would have had to figure out something herself. And as Pappag unfortunately pointed out, she was not the most skilled planner.

Then, if that wasn’t enough, the pirates told her that they were no longer in possession of Argelia, she was already sold off to the auctions.

Safe to say, Camie was upset. But she wasn’t going to give up. She was going to get Hatchin back and then go get Argelia.

“Concassé!” Camie heard Sanji yell out. And next thing she knew Duval went flying. But when the dust cleared, he looked completely different. Kind of handsome, if Camie had to be honest.

As she rushed to Hatchin’s side and untied him, she was tense waiting for a counterattack from the pirates…but it never came…wait was he now thanking the Straw Hats? For fixing his face?

“The Straw Hats sure are interesting aren’t they, Hatchin?” Camie mused as she finished undoing the knotted rope and successfully freed her friend.

Hatchan looked at the group he was once at odds with and suddenly found a smile finding its way onto his lips. “They are, that’s for sure.”

“I’m so glad you’re safe, Hatchin.” Camie grinned.

“What a tearful reunion. I could almost cry!” A rough voice sounded out.

Camie whipped around at the sound of the voice, a surprised look made its way onto her face. “Who are you?” She asked defensively.

A gruff-looking group of what seemed like a rather small gang of pirates suddenly boarded the Flying Fish Pirates’s ship, taking advantage of the chaos that was going on. The leader, a tall gruff-looking man, just smirked. “Well, imagine my surprise when our little fish people tracker started goin haywire when we were just sailin’ by. We see a fight breaking out on the exact ship we stopped by just a little while ago to pick up a little mermaid. Fellas, it looks like we’re gonna make even more money today.”

Luffy turned overhearing the commotion and he frowned. “That’s not going to happen. Camie is our friend!”

The leader just snickered. “Too late rubber boy, we already have, shoulda been more aware of your surroundings sweetheart.” He nodded to the sleeping dart that was now lodged into Camie’s leg.

Camie’s and Hatchan’s eyes widened. “You jerks,” Camie murmured before collapsing as the group threw a sea stone net around her.

“Nice workin’ with you.” The leader snickered before dodging Luffy’s attack and quickly retreating to his ship.

“Camie!” Hatchan called out desperately.

Luffy walked towards him, a determined look set on his face. “We’ll get her back Hatchan. I promise.”

A/N: I hope you like the first chapter! I'll be posting more of it soon! And maybe more of the series I've been writing for her as well! I love these stories, and I love making stories for all of you. Feel free to click that link below and get a story for yourself! I'd love to make your ideas into reality!

#the rebel fae #requests #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece sanji #one piece strawhats #trafalgar d water law #one piece x oc #original character #oc #story commission #rebel fae productions

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chocoadepti · 1 year ago

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Nicola Drama CD Vol. 1 - Epilogo del 1927

This is an extremely rough translation, mainly mtl'd. Corrections more than welcome!!

That's a lot of people.

Forty thousand people...no, how many hundreds of thousands? It was a good thing I saved a hotel room. As I expected, I didn't want to join that crowd.

I had heard that New Year's Eve in New York is celebrated in Times Square rather than Trinity Church, but it was more than I expected.

The neon signs lit up the city more than usual, making it look white and shiny. It's so beautiful when you look down from a high place like this. But it's a shame that the night sky is so hazy, the beauty of the stars was better back in our hometown.

How is it, do you miss Burlone?

I don't think I'm the nostalgic type, but lately I've been thinking about that town a lot.

The street corner where I met you and the bar we used to go, the open-air restaurant in Veleno we passed by on a date, the shopping streets of Creta, and the Christmas Eve when we looked out over the square. ((Not quite sure about this part!))

I wonder why, there have been my share of bad times, but all I can remember are the good memories. And most of them are memories of you.

I hope one day, I don't know how many years or decades it will be, I'll have the chance to go back.

You see, for example, when passenger planes become stable enough to cross the Atlantic, it will be much easier and simpler to travel between America and Italy than it is now.

Ah, the Ball Drop. The countdown to the new year has begun. Less than a minute to 1928.

Yeah, this latest technology is pretty amazing. I heard they used a hundred bulbs in the Times Square Ball.

How do you like this kind of lively New Year's Eve? We haven't spent much time in church so far, but it's a good thing we went to the evening mass, so we were able to show our sincerity to God, right? ((Not sure about this part!!))

Here it seems to be the norm to do the ceremonies early and then have festivities at night with friends. I heard that New Year's Eve has become the mainstream, though I suppose it depends on the religious sect. ((Also not sure!!))

Oh, look, it's going to fall soon.

Five, Four, Three, Two, One

Here it comes. A new year has begun, 1928.

I'm glad to be here with you, my precious one, at this moment.

You're so cute too. I'm sure my wife will be just as cute next year and beyond.

I am glad that we were able to spend our first New Year's alone together after we got married.

After a few years, when it becomes normal for us to spend time together, it would be nice to invite not only family but also friends and have a party with everyone.

But that's a long way off. For now, I want to have you all to myself at least while we are newlyweds.

Eh, you also feel the same way?

Ah, I'm not doubting that you think so too, but you're being unusually honest, so I wondered what was wrong. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to question (??) you.

I was just happy and a little surprised.

I'm sorry.

Will you forgive me?

Grazie.

I think we've been out here too long, your cheeks are getting all cold. (??)

No, I'm not okay because you're so cold (??), so let's go back inside.

Come here, let's get you warmed up. I guess I'm colder than I thought too. It really does seem to get freezing cold in the winter here.

Yeah, I don't like the heat or the cold to begin with, but the reason I don't like winter is because it reminds me of so many things.

Ah, that's right, I've never talked about it with you. It was about 10 years ago now, I had spent winter in the Alps. I was stationed on the Italian Front.

I never regretted that choice. It was my own decision and I feel I did my duty. To paraphrase you, even if I could rewind time, I would make the same choice.

So many of my comrades died in that place, so many of them took up arms to protect their country, and many of them were broken by fear, crying to see their families and loved ones, but their tears soon froze and many of them died with regrets because they could do nothing about it. ((??))

Compared to them, I was very lucky. I could return to my hometown without losing anything. I still had two arms and both my legs were still connected.

It was good to return to my life (?), and the first thing I thought about was what to do with the rest of my life that I hadn't used up. But I didn't think too much about it. I knew what I wanted a long time ago, and I thought I would use my life for someone else.

I wanted to die protecting someone or something, just like my comrades.

It's not that I wanted to die, it's just that I've long since forgotten how strongly I wanted to not die. I'm willing to die to achieve my goals, and I've always been okay with that.

I'm sorry to tell you this, but listen, it's not like that anymore.

I'm Mafia, and I'm always in danger. The more power my Family gains, the more people will try to kill us. There are so many mafiosos in this city, and they are always looking for opportunities to take down other organizations.

We have left Burlone and arrived in New York, but I am sure that tough times will continue to occur.

Still, I won't die. No matter what, I won't die and leave you alone under any circumstances, I swear to God.

Ah, but it doesn't sound very credible for me to swear to God after what I did, does it?

Then, I'll swear to you, who is more important than God.

I will survive, even if I have to slurp up muddy water. Definitely.

I have lived my whole life for someone else. For my mother, for my country, for Dante, for my Family. I was told to do so, or I was forced to do so, and I thought it was my role to do so.

Now, I understand. Just like Dante, I was also bound to my blood for so long.

But now I'm free. You broke my cage, and now I just honestly want to be with you, to do this not because of someone else, but from my own desire. This is my wish, and no one else's. I want to live for my own sake, to make my own wish come true. I'm sorry that I couldn't say that I'll live for you. I'm being selfish and doing what I want for myself. (?? I'm not very sure about this part!))

Eh, you're saying that it's only natural? That I'm not being selfish.

That's why I fell in love with you/That's why I'm crazy about you. (Two different interpretations here lol)

I love you, my precious. Thank you.

If you were to live for me, then of course I'd be happy. But, if you were to live for yourself, and then you want to be with me, and stay by my side, then I'll be more than happy.

That's right, Signorina, how do you want to spend your first day of the year? If you want to get up early and go out, then you may need to go to bed. Or do you want to stay up late until the sun rises? Of course, if you want to chat then I'm also welcome to that.

We can talk while lounging in bed, but there may not be much of a conversation. Ah, I'm not trying to distract you, but, you see, I know myself pretty well.

Well, why don't we sit on the couch and chat, then that way I'm sure I won't disregard your wishes.

How about I make you something warm? Like hot milk?

Just like that night we met, I took your shaking hand and tucked you in. I was hoping to get you to let your guard down and maybe even fall in love with me, but I never thought that I would be the one to fall. I thought I had prepared for that quite carefully.

You see, Sister Sophia came to the house the next day and asked me to take care of you here, right? Actually, I had arranged that in advance.

You were very surprised at that time, weren't you? You never would have thought that and experienced and serious Sister would ask such a favor from the Mafia.

I told her in advance that it was necessary for your safety. I though that she(you?) would be hesitant to do so, and more than anything, I thought she(you?) would be scared. I asked her to make it a proposal from the Sisters.

I was planning a lot of things like this without you seeing it.

Well, I was betrayed by my own heart, which should have been the easiest to control.

All right, sit back and wait for me to make it soon. Ah, you're going to follow me? You're being more honest and sweet tonight than usual. How cute. How about we skip talking and go to bed instead?

I'm joking, I'm joking!

But we can't stay awake forever, so we'll go to bed sooner or later, right? If you're sleepy then, I'll caress your cheek and thank you for being my wife, kiss you softly and go to sleep with you. But if we go to bed and your eyes are still wide open and you're still acting sweet like this, then I'll live up to your expectations. It's ok to sleep in until afternoon tomorrow, after all there's no butler here to get mad at me.

My hot milk is a recipe that Giulia taught me. I heat it slowly over low heat like this. The trick is to keep stirring without boiling.

Can you pass me the mugs? Grazie.

Honey and cinnamon are the finishing touches.

Here you go, Signorina, be careful not to burn your tongue.

Maybe a bit too sweet. I'm glad you like it, your smile is the best reward of all.

Do you remember when I said it was enough for me to have a lovely wife at home?

That was my true feeling at the time. You didn't need to go out, do housework, or work, I just wanted you to be at home waiting for me to come home. I didn't want anything more than that, I was satisfied just by your presence.

But things are a little different now.

I want to have you all to myself, but I don't want to lock you away.

The woman I fell in love with is probably not the type of person who likes to stay at home, and even if she says she doesn't have to do anything, she should find something she can do and make an effort. (??)

I like that about you.

I want you to live your life the way you do.

Of course, if you want to stay at home all the time, that's fine. Even if you are just lounging in bed every day, my love for you will not change. But if you want to cook, or clean, or whatever else, then I'll convince Bartolo. He's a bit of a pain, but I can handle it.

Just because you're my wife doesn't mean you have to subject yourself to the rules that impose obligations or don't give rights. (??)

That's a bad tradition.

If you want to go out and find something you want to do and work hard to make it happen, then I'll support you. Of course I have my concerns, because I think it's best for you to stay home so you're not involved in anything dangerous or put in harm's way.

And I know that starting something new can be exhausting, painful, and hurtful.

I used to want to keep you away from all that, but that's my own ego, and if I really love you, then I shouldn't blindfold you, right?

I want you to see the world with your own eyes./ I must allow you to see the world with your own eyes. ((?? Unsure if this one too))

I've grown up a bit in the past year to be able to think this way, don't you think?

If you start something new and still have a hard time, then I will comfort you a lot. I will encourage you until you feel better and help you until the problem is solved. And afterwards I'll make you something like this, hot milk or whatever you like, hold you close until the tears stop, and go to sleep with you.

Then when morning comes, the two of us can work together again.

Instead of leaning on one person, let's take each other's hand and live together forever, supporting each other even when trials sometimes come our way.

You have always faced me with sincerity.

I will look straight back at you and respond to that that sincerity with my own.

Hey, my precious, I believe in your heart and mind.

So can you believe in me too? There is no room for hypocrisy in my feelings for you.

I will always be with you this year, next year, and no matter how many years pass, I will protect you no matter what happens.

I will continue to love you the best I can.

So don't ever leave me.

Please love me.

#piofiore #piofiore translation #drama cd translation #nicola francesca

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pixies-and-poets · 2 years ago

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Of Verses and Curses: Chapter Two

Hello again! It’s Friday and, as promised- that means IT’S TIME FOR MORE BUNNY CONTENT, PHANDROW NATION

Chapter One

Content warnings for this chapter: Mild Woodrow anguish, questionable poetry... what else is new? That’s it.

Author’s notes on headcanons: I used my name for Sweetlopek’s beaver, but feel free to substitute your own. And... Woodrow definitely needed a first name for this story, so I’ve gone with my favorite option, something a lot of us seem to have settled on after some mutual fandom discussion. It’s not invented from thin air either, as it comes from the German localization of the game!

Chapter Two - Best of Luck

Sweetlopek opened his cabinet and got out three plates. Woodrow had invited himself over for dinner, again.

It was not a rare occurrence; knowing his friend’s problems with cooking, the lumberjack was always happy to do it for him. In his bachelor days, he had been grateful for the company. And even now that his days and nights had become far less lonesome, he was happy to still see and take care of his companion since childhood.

Dryad, bless her, was compassionate enough to understand, and to bear with the interruptions when the warden showed up on the doorstep at various hours and in various states of bedragglement.

But today, it did not seem that desperation nor despair had driven him to their door. He had entered with almost a spring in his step, and when his cloud had tried to follow him inside, there was a teasing mirth in his voice as he cooed, “No, no! You know the rules,” giving it a playful poke with his umbrella until it grumbled with thunder and parked itself out of sight above the roof.

While Sweet started work on the food, Dryad and Woodrow had sat and made pleasant small-talk over the gentle sizzles and soft scraping of wooden spoons on cast-iron pans. Every now and then, from his spot at the stove, the woodsman would glance back at them and see his friend scratching Chipper, the beaver who usually camped out on the lumberjack's head. He was even tossing Chipper's gnawed-up wooden toys across the floor for him to fetch.

The forest spirit, who was already in some measure confused by other Rabbids, was extra baffled by Woodrow, who was a different sort altogether. Sweetlopek had told her that it wasn’t her fault; few people understood the poet, but mostly out of lack of trying, and it was good of her to make the effort. Today, however, she felt that all the progress she had made in comprehending him was being undone, and she was dealing with an entirely different entity. Far from his normal gloomy countenance, he seemed to boil over with delight.

Sweetlopek set the table - he and Dryad next to each other, and Woodrow across from them - and they all sat down together, passing around the heaping pots of vegetables and serving themselves. Dryad didn’t eat very much; in fact, she could entirely subsist on sunlight and rainwater, and berries and nuts… and dirt… but she was growing accustomed to her darling’s vegetarian cooking, and starting to become rather fond of it.

They had been eating for just a few minutes when the lumberjack looked across at his friend. “Alright, Woody,” he said, “spit it out.”

The warden lowered his fork and swallowed a mouthful of peas. “Hmm?”

“I don’t know what it is, but somethin’s gotcha… happy. So why don’cha share with the class, eh?”

Woodrow smiled, somehow looking both shy and proud. “Well… alright, then. You see… I received quite a momentous letter today, and have made all the arrangements. We shall be hosting a celebrity here on Palette Prime.”

“Oh?” said Sweetlopek, somewhat confused but trying to mimic his friend's clear excitement. Usually, neither of them were big fans of the showy visits of the rich and famous.

“Yes,” said the poet, barely containing himself. In a slow, awed voice, he said: “The Phantom is coming.”

The lumberjack stopped dead, his mouth full of corn, the cob he was gnawing still grasped before him in his big paws. After a moment, he swallowed his mouthful and put down his corncob. “What, like a ghost?” he asked.

“Is it that horrible Spark Hunter?” asked Dryad.

“No!!” said Woodrow in dismay, his face falling for the first time that night. “The… THE Phantom! Tom Phan! The Phantom of the Bwahpera!!”

The two lovers looked at him, then at each other, then back at him.

“Oh, come now!” the Warden groaned, putting a hand on his head. He didn’t blame the Dryad, a spirit of the wild, for not knowing… but Sweetlopek… so kind, so strong, so uncultured. “You don’t mean to tell me you don’t know of him!! The opera sensation?! Only one of the best singers in the galaxy - er, he was, anyway. A spectacular presence onstage and off! Foe to Mario, born in the Mushroom Kingdom, merged by the powers of Spawny, giving rise to-”

“OH!!” cried Sweetlopek in sudden recognition. “That guy Bea dated, right? They both blew their voices out, didn’t they?”

Woodrow sighed and shook his head. “Yes, they did,” he said sadly. “In fact, that’s the reason for his visit. He hopes that our fair planet and its natural splendor, its fresh arboreal air, may help restore what he has lost."

“Hmmm,” said the lumberjack, with narrowed eyes. “Welp. Would hate to burst his bubble, but I ain’t sure it works like that.”

Dryad shrugged. “Never doubt the power of the trees, love. Nature will surprise you, if you give it a chance.” She winked at the woodsman playfully. “You of all people should know.”

“Oh, you're right. I know,” he said, suddenly bearing a bashfun grin and giving her a pat on the hand.

“Anyway, the forest surprises even ME, all the time," said Dryad, turning to Woodrow, “and I know more about it than anyone! So if your friend is looking for a cure, perhaps-”

“Oh!! He’s not my friend,” exclaimed Woodrow, his cheeks turning so red it was visible through his fur. “Merely a… merely a… well, we know of each other, but have never met. But yes, perhaps… perhaps friends we shall become.” He added, more quietly, “I think I should like that very much.”

“Well, he sounds like an artistic type, so I’m sure you two will get along just wonderfully!” said Dryad with an encouraging smile, leaning forward with her paws on the table. “Best of luck!”

Sweetlopek nearly spat out his mouthful of pumpkin ale. He choked it down and gave his partner a glance; but she had not realized what she’d done. His eyes traveled nervously over to Woodrow, whose face had become even more elongated, darkened, frozen in horror.

Dryad began to realize that something was amiss, and looked back and forth between the two men. “...What?” she asked.

Sweetlopek leaned over to her. “You said the L-word,” he whispered in her ear, and she immediately looked as stricken as the others.

“OH!” burst from Woodrow, who had overheard- it was hard, after all, to whisper quiet enough for a creature with such large ears to not hear. “O, luck!!” he cried in an agony of disgust.

“So little a word for so great a power!

O villain that threatens me hour by hour!

O knave, O menace that waits at my side!

Dismantler of dreams and punisher of pride-” he slammed his hand on the table in passion, and a huge bolt of lightning and immediate peal of thunder rent the air outside.

“Woody-” began the lumberjack in concern as rain began to lash at the windows.

“O luck,” he continued,

“Thou writest my name in the cruelest of plots,

Thou weavest my fate into tangles and knots!

My most thoughtful plans reduced to insanity;

To plan for my joy, mere folly and vanity!”

The glass that held Dryad’s water cracked and then shattered. She flew off to get a towel while Woodrow took several deep, shuddering breaths, and slumped down in his chair as the rain and loud cracks of thunder continued. Without a word Sweetlopek got up, walked over to him, scooped him up, and took him over to the couch where he laid him down against a pillow. He was breathing hard, racked with a sort of dry sob, an attack of anguish. Sweet had seen it before, many a time. He stroked Woodrow's arm, gently, to ground him in reality and safety, while the wind howled and the rain clawed the windows.

After a few minutes, the poet's breathing calmed down and the thunder around them did as well, not stopping completely, but becoming softer and less frequent. “There now, Woody,” said the lumberjack as Dryad joined them, wringing her paws in worry. “Didja get it all out?”

“I think so,” he said weakly and softly. “But… but I spoke true. Oh, what a fool I’ve been!” He buried his face in his paws, pushing them up behind his glasses until the spectacles were pushed up and off, sliding down onto the couch next to him. “To think, I almost let him come here! Someone who needs good fortune, and good health! Someone… someone I admire. I almost let him come HERE, where I dwell!”

“Almost?!” said Dryad. “I thought you said he was coming?”

“I haven’t written back to him yet,” mumbled Woodrow from behind his hands, tears evident in his voice and visible, creeping and leaking out around the edges of his paws. “There’s still time to tell him not to come. We can’t accommodate him. We’re busy with the harvest. I can invent all manner of excuses…”

Dryad and Sweetlopek looked at each other in despair. He had been so happy earlier, and now…

“So, you’re worried you’ll cause something terrible to happen while he’s here?” Dryad asked.

Woodrow nodded, slowly revealing his reddened eyes and their ever-present look of fatigue and sorrow. “Yes,” he said. “Something could happen around him… something could happen TO him. He’s looking for healing right now. He needs the opposite of… whatever tribulations I shall bring to him. Oh! I should just tell him to go to Gusty Garden Galaxy,” he groaned, “he’s a musician… everyone likes that song they have there…”

“He should come,” said Sweetlopek firmly, giving his friend another pat on the shoulder. “You were so excited about it. I’m sure it’ll be fine. I mean, you've been workin' on containin' yer jinx, right? I’ve seen ya practicin’ in the woods. Yer tryin' to learn to control it, ain’tcha?”

“Yes,” he said, but with an air of defeat. “I keep hoping I can direct it, contain it… but… it’s difficult. I can’t, really. Mere wishful thinking.” He sighed.

Dryad looked at the two friends skeptically, confusion on her face. “Uh… forgive me if this is a silly question,” she said cautiously, “but, Woodrow… have you tried simply… not writing poems? It’s the poems that cause your ill fortune, right?”

“Honey,” said Sweetlopek, looking at her in wry amusement. “Ya might as well ask the trees in yer forest not to grow, or the leaves not to fall. Ya might as well-

“She’s right,” said Woodrow, his voice filled with sudden determination. He pushed himself into a sitting position.

“...What?” said the woodsman, his face snapping back to his old friend in astonishment. “Ya can’t just stop yerself, can ya? Poetry’s the air you breathe. Always been like that, since we were kids. You spit out those rhymes like Chipper spits out sawdust. An' no matter what’s happened, you’ve NEVER stopped! Never been able to, never wanted to.”

“Not until now,” he said, looking at the couple in placid resolution.

“Oh!” said Sweetlopek, more than a little upset. “Bringin' down the moon didn’t do it! The DOOMSTORM didn’t do it! Gettin' yerself nearly killed by a boat didn’t do it- Tristan Woodrow, I thought you were a goner, that day!" The heat in his voice continued to rise. "As long as I've known you, you idiot, I’ve worried my ears off abou'cha! My best friend! But I never wanted you to stop writing, because it’s who y’are. It’s yer nature. And NOW yer gonna stop, because of some… some singer?! Frankly, I don't believe you.”

“Shh, love…” said Dryad, patting her partner on his arm to quell his agitation. She then turned to the poet. “I’m sorry for suggesting it,” she said quickly. “Really, there’s no reason to stop writing your poems. I know how important they are to you, and-”

But the poet - or perhaps, erstwhile poet - was smiling again. He put on his glasses, adjusted them and then stood up, filled with renewed vigor. “Nay, nay!” he cried. “You, dear Dryad, have the wisdom of the forest indeed! There’s a solution to my woes after all, and how simple it is! From the moment the Phantom arrives, I shall go on hiatus from my work. In fact, perhaps this is just what I need to refresh my creative passions. Hmm?”

Sweetlopek was still crossing his burly arms and bearing a deep-set frown, but Dryad looked up at the warden with tentative support. “If that’s… REALLY what you want,” she said. “Then I- WE-” she added pointedly with a glance at her love, “support you.”

“It is!” said Woodrow, his earlier merry demeanor returning, with the rain outside starting to let up, and the watery rays of the sunset starting to once more streak through the windows. “Now, my apologies for the outburst. Let us finish our dinner before it gets cold, shall we?”

The three seated themselves again, and Sweetlopek raised an eyebrow at the warden as they began to eat. His anger dissipated quickly, as his old friend did seem excited and happy, and that was rare enough… so who was he to get in the way of that? He must truly be fond of this Phantom fellow… and said Phantom had better be worth the trouble.

[Next time: Phantom is actually in this story!! Wow!]

#mario + rabbids #mario plus rabbids #mario rpgs #fanfic #woodrow #ts woodrow #the phantom #rabbid dryad #sweetlopek #phandrow

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justineps · 4 months ago

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One thing I decided to completely change about myself is the fact that I will speak the truth, or at least what I believe to be is my truth, even if it pushes people away or causes them to look at me in a negative manner. I really started to feel better once I just blurted out what was genuinely on my mind. The first few times I let this happen, a heavy wave of anxiety surged throughout my entire body, and I remember my body temperature drastically increased. I didn’t receive positive reactions due to this though, but I felt so .. light and did not feel bad whatsoever once I cooled down. I don’t have much, or at all, to lose anymore, and I’ll never speak my truth with any intentions of hurting someone. After all, it is someone’s choice to be affected by it or actually think about what I had to say, albeit it not being the best way to probably convey it, which I know I still need to work on. But I want to be a person to tell someone what I feel like they dont want to hear, but actually should, rather than the clouded white lies that will do nothing for them other than feed their mind with responses that will more than likely come to bite them in the ass harder when that time will inevitably arise again. And in the end, others can view me as rude or mean, but for once, I know if someone will take the time to listen and think about what is said, rather than how it was said (I really need to continue to work on expressing my thoughts the way I hope to without stuttering or not making sense), then I’m confident that they’d feel I only did so because I cared. I thought about this as well, the caring part and just staying quiet, but nothing good for me will ever come my way if I never authentically change how I am towards others. I realized I ended up alone because I had put on so many masks all my life, that even I probably wouldn’t have known whether to help myself if I had asked.

The only thing that bothers me is that.. will any of this even matter? Where do I honestly move forward towards (sounds weird)? I haven’t felt the feeling of “home” in the longest time, but have come to terms that it definitely is not a place or the things that surround myself under a roof. In no way am I trying to sound like a negative doodoohead, but I’d like to believe that I’m at the point where l want to share whats left of my spirit, heart, and mind to be associated with anything or anyone that can reciprocate any excitement in both growth and love towards one another. I don’t see myself adopting a child in the future anymore, and my naive dream of having a small family of my own is starting to seem .. well, nothing but just a younger Justin’s dream.

P.S. I’m glad I got to connect with Francis a few times earlier this year and jokingly told him I hated him for being able to experience my dream only a few weeks after the night we shared what we ultimately desired in life, and spent hours talking about our fears, bucket list, and goals before our time comes close to an end. I told him I felt like I got close, but blew it as always, and he suggested what he always had from day one, to leave this place. I actually responded back with how I felt even if I were to leave and.. well, eh that’s just actual guy life talk at that point lol.

It’s been four years since I’ve genuinely been happy it was my birthday, and I surprisingly still have so many photos of everything. White Claws and a 3 gram “Galaxy: Blasters of the Universe- Cognac Honey” hahaha. I would probably hibernate or act like a total fool if I were to even have those this year, it’s been 2 years since I even had a good blunt and alcohol in my system. Lol I cant help but smile right now. Thanks for the memories. I wonder when it’ll be til another memory tops that night lol. Im alone, but I feel warm at this exact moment, so this is where I’ll end my digital journal entry. (i need to buy myself a nice writing pen/pencil lol!)

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scarlettriot · 3 years ago

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Stood Up

Pairing: Sero/F!Reader

Summary: When you find your dating making out with someone else at a Halloween party, Hanta swoops in and reclaims your evening, rekindling an old flame.

Contains: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Demisexual Reader, Astronomy/Greek Lore Nerd Sero, Old flame

Warnings: 18+ Below the cut, Minors DNI! Swearing, Demi Problems, Praise/Smidge of Degradation, Name-calling (slut & whore), Pet names (Love, good girl, pretty girl), Car Sex, F Masturbation, Oral M Receiving (Road Head) I think that's everything

A/N: This took me much longer than I expected. It's also my first time writing Sero. Given the season, I decided to add a touch of Halloween and costumes to this one.

If you'd like to read other's in the Stood Up series, here are the links:

Stood Up - Bakugo - WC 3,502

Stood Up - Kirishima - WC 3,612

Stood Up - Kaminari - WC 2,461

Word Count Starting Below: 3,494

Denki Kaminari's annual Halloween bash was in full swing by the time Hanta had arrived. He'd come straight from patrol, wrapping himself up in his own tape making a half assed mummy costume for himself. Not like anyone would notice with the flashing colored lights, loud music, and abundance of liquor.

However, Hanta didn't even make it up to the double glass front doors of Denki's home. Not before doing a double take at the very familiar pirate that ran by him.

"Y/N?" You stopped allowing him the chance to catch up to you, "Holy shit, it is you, when the hell did you get back?"

Three years you'd been gone, working in America. Time differences and busy schedules made it so the two of you barely kept in touch. It was a shame, Hanta thought, considering how close the two of you used to be.

"I- uh- just a few weeks now. I heard you were helping out with the disaster relief after that storm."

It had to be his eyes playing tricks on him, the funny colors of the dancing lights were what made your cheeks look wet, right? Those couldn't have been tears.

"I was, yeah, but I got back yesterday. I didn't know-"

"Get the hell outta here!" His head snapped back towards the front of the house, just in time to see Eijiro, dressed in an impressive werewolf costume, literally throw someone out of the party. The guy drunkenly stumbled off, Eijiro walking over towards where Hanta was standing with you. "Y/N, you good?"

You nodded while Hanta tried to piece together what'd happened. "Sorry, it took me a second to find the bastard. Do ya wanna come back in? I'll make sure he leaves."

"No, Eijiro, thanks though. I'm just gonna head home."

The wolfman frowned but understood. "We'll have a smaller party for ya! Just the gang as a welcome home! You know Denki will look for any excuse to throw a party." He turned his gaze on Hanta. "A mummy, really?"

"You've been a damn werewolf for the last two years! You don't get to give me crap."

Eijiro poked the fuzzy pointed red ears carefully set into his spiky hair. "Mina and I worked real hard on this costume... seemed like a waste to only wear it once."

"We both know you haven't just worn those once, big man."

That got a chuckle out of you while all Eijiro could do was shrug and try to hide a shit-eating grin.

He asked you again if you'd like to stay and once more you said you were going to just head home. It was when you specifically said you were going to be walking home that Hanta spoke up offering to drive you back to your home since it was Halloween and people were creeps.

You were a damn pro hero but he still didn't feel right about just letting you walk home alone.

When you agreed he told Eijiro he'd be back soon and walked over with you to his car.

>>><<<

A part of you missed the old station wagon Hanta used to drive, not that this BMW he now drove wasn't absolutely amazing, you just sort of missed the comfort of the old car.

He waited until he'd reached the end of Denki's long, winding driveway to finally speak. "So, you wanna tell me what happened back there, or am I just supposed to pretend like Kiri didn't kick someone out on your behalf?"

"You could probably just ask Kiri and he'd tell you."

"I could, but, I'd like to hear it from you."

You knew you could tell him, there was nothing you couldn't tell Hanta. There was once a time when the man knew every single detail about your life. Sure, time and distance had put a strain on that relationship but you were back now. There was no reason why you couldn't at least start rebuilding what you and Hanta once had.

"Y/N, if you don't wanna say anything-"

"I was just casually seeing this guy. You know me and dating, how we don't always work out." You said abruptly and he quit talking, "And so, we weren't like official but we said we'd go to this party together. Well, I got here and went looking for him and found him making out with one of Hawks' sidekicks. I got a little upset when he noticed me and, well, he just said he found someone better."

Hanta actually stopped the car, pulled off to the side of the road, threw it in park, and looked right at you because he knew what found someone better meant exactly. You'd used those words in high school when that guy from Shiketsu that you'd been seeing got pissed off that you wouldn't put out and ended it with you. You went to his dorm crying because he 'found someone better', is what you told him. It took him a few hours to get the truth out of you.

You'd always been the kind of person to love with your entire heart but sexually, you'd confessed that you felt different from all the other kids your age back then. Not having the same urges and desires that everyone else seemed stricken with.

"Hanta, it's fine, really. Kiri heard the whole thing and, well, you saw what happened."

"Doesn't make it right! So, you went on a couple dates with a guy, that doesn't mean he just gets to expect you to put out for him! Even if you weren't demi, no one gets to just assume they deserve sex."

His lips were pressed in a narrow line, nostrils flared once in annoyance. He was usually so calm and laid back that you thought it rather cute when he got overprotective. "It's alright, Hants, really."

He still gave you a look that said he disagreed but then shook his head, dropping the subject for now at least.

"Still like those late-night drives?"

"I love them."

"Good."

Hanta waited for a car to pass and whipped the car in the other direction.

It wasn't long before he had the windows rolled down, conversations filling in the blanks of lost time, in between belting out choruses of your favorite songs. Minutes slipped by the further he drove, you lost track of both time and kilometers, letting him tell you all about the ridiculous antics the group had been up to.

Eventually, you caught the scent of salty air and even in the dark, you had a pretty good idea where Hanta was going. He followed a winding road, making two left turns and then a right leaving you on a stretch of road that paralleled the ocean.

You let your head fall against the seat, eyes falling shut and inhaling that wonderful smell you missed so much. Hanta had just one hand lazily on the wheel, his elbow resting out the open window, a relaxed smile was illuminated in soft orange lights off his dash.

You let your head roll onto his shoulder, not as easily done without the bench seat in his station wagon but it worked nonetheless. "Thanks."

His free hand came to rest on your knee, "Anytime."

He turned the wheel, pulling over and parking in front of a small beach access that you guys had found at 3 in the morning five years prior. Hanta kicked off his shoes, leaving them in the car to avoid them being sand-filled and you did the same with the knee-high boots purely because you longed to feel the sand between your toes.

The wooden planks were worn, parts buried beneath the sand until eventually, none remained. Breaking waves flooded your ears and you made a run for them! Before you could reach the lapping water though, tape had wound around your middle and yanked you backward.

"Not happening!" Hanta said firmly. "Last time I let you talk me into late-night swimming we didn't have a change of clothes either and we both got so sick! I think I might have actually died without Bakugo's soup!"

You chuckled, remembering being nineteen and curled up with Hanta on the sofa in the living room of the apartment you all shared for nearly a week. The sniffles didn't cease for almost three weeks.

"Okay, okay, no swimming." You flopped back down into the sand, his tape still attached meaning the cellophane hero was pulled down with you. "Tell me about the stars then, Hants. Who's out tonight?"

Astronomy was a hobby of Hanta's you learned about after moving into the dorms your first year. It wasn't uncommon to find him out on the roof most nights, laying on his back and looking up into the clear night sky littered with twinkling stars, usually with a joint pressed between his lips. It became almost a habit for him to grab you on his way up, pulling you along because you were more than happy listening to him tell you about each constellation and the stories behind them.

It was around this time of year, in your final year of high school; somewhere between him recalling the greek mythos of Aries and Sagittarius that you noticed your heart beating a little faster. You realized something had shifted between the two of you, and, holy shit, was this what it felt like to have a crush! When the hell did that happen?

You'd entrusted everything to Hanta back then, and now, laying in the sand shoulder to shoulder while he talked about Draco, that familiar feeling stirred again. You remembered what it was supposed to be like when you weren't forcing it for some random guy. How simple it was supposed to be.

You inclined on an elbow and he stopped mid-sentence. "Eh, everything alright?" You nodded but he looked anything but convinced, mirroring your position and asking you again.

It was easy for you to lean forward, to brush your lips against his for the first time in three years. And, when you pulled away, he looked about as shocked as he had the night you'd done it when you were eighteen.

"You- you still like me?"

When you left for America, you'd both agreed to put a pause on your sort of relationship. Free to date and screw whomever you pleased because three years was a long time and it just seemed like a fair decision to make. The realization that he might now have someone else special in his life dawned on you...

"Yeah but I totally understand if things are different now and I shoulda asked- oof!"

He kissed you so hard you toppled back into the sand, quick pecks, one right after another, ending them with a long one that nearly left you breathless.

"I didn't know how to bring it up. I didn't want to make you feel awkward about things or make you think I expected something. I thought that maybe since we didn't talk for a while your feelings might have changed."

"I can say with confidence they haven't."

"Thank fuck." He groaned and captured your lips in another searing kiss.

It was easy to lift his shirt off, the shreds of tape that remained were now covered with gritty sand that clung to your fingers as you traced the chest and torso you knew so well. Gliding over defined muscles, lingering on old scars and mapping out new ones he'd collected in your time apart.

His own hands were busy flicking open the brass fastenings of your corset, huffing about it being so much more difficult to get to your chest and something about it being very unfair.

By the time he'd undone the last one, bright headlights shown across the beach. "Shit."

Giggling ensued from the walkway and you both sighed, at least it wasn't the police or a hero patrol. Hanta gathered his shirt and ran back to his car with his hand in yours.

"I thought our days of being caught were over."

"At least it wasn't Mr. Aizawa this time."

A chill ran down your spine remembering the night and the lecture you'd received when your teacher had caught Hanta sneaking out of your room early one morning.

"So, uh, do you still plan on going to Denki's party?" You asked innocently enough but Hanta knew you far too well.

"I think I'm gonna miss it this year." His hand found a home on your upper thigh. "Apparently, you and I have a lot of catching up to do. Lost time to make up for and all that."

"Too bad you don't have that old station wagon anymore. If you did, we wouldn't have to wait to get back."

Dark eyes glanced over at you not so subtly parting your legs.

"I dunno. It's not too often I travel in the backseat of my own car but I've been told it's pretty roomy. Lots of legroom."

Your hand ran over your legs, dipping down to lightly brush your more sensitive parts, thankful you opted for the thin pair of black leggings rather than the dark skinny jeans. Your fingers danced again and this time you let a soft moan pass your lips. "Eyes on the road, Hants."

"That's a little hard to do when I've got you spread out in the passenger's seat." He grabbed your free hand and pressed it against the bulge in his pants. "You've got me distracted, filthy little woman."

You appreciated him testing the waters, a subtle way of checking if you liked those nicknames he used only in private with you, giving you a chance to protest if your likes had changed. They were one's that only felt right coming from him and you were eager to hear more.

Forgoing your own high, you leaned over the center console as best you could, undoing his belt first, followed quickly by his zipper letting his strained cock be free.

His grip tightened on your leg when you kissed the tip of him. "Just like old times, huh?"

A chuckle turned quickly into a moan, taking him in your mouth, pushing yourself further on his cock, fighting your gag reflex to get him down your throat. Hanta reclined his seat further, giving you more room to work with.

Your legs clenched tighter with every groan you pulled from him, wiggling your hips in the seat, letting a hand fall back between your own legs. There was an attempt of a moan around his cock when his fingers coiled in your hair. "Such a good slut. Keep fuckin' goin'." He let you continue at your own speed, needing to focus as best he could on the road rather than what you were doing but, damn, you were making that increasingly difficult.

He wasn't stopping you though. He rarely did. You'd sucked him off on countless drives before and only stopped when- "That's it." He lifted you off him by your hair at the same time he pulled off the road. There was a convenient turn-off, hidden by overgrown brush you noticed before he shut off the headlights.

Hanta took you by the chin, smearing drool. "Backseat, pretty girl." He reached into the glove box and pulled out a foil wrapper, "What do you say we test out that legroom?"

He wait to watch your smile grow wide before crawling into the back because he had to be the first to go if this had any chance of working. Once situated, pants under his thighs, he patted his lap for you to climb over.

You slid easily onto his lap, hands traveling up and over his shoulders, kissing hard while you rocked your hips against impossibly hard length.

There was so much comfort in the familiarity of him. It wasn't awkward to fall back into rhythm with Hanta, to remember that he loved the feeling of your nails dragging down his chest. And he was just as eager to get your shirt off, reach your breasts he'd missed so much, and get his tongue on your nipples.

Your head tipped backward, loving the pace he set, hips bouncing creating the perfect tug on your nipples between his teeth.

"Love, if I promise to buy you a new pair, can I rip these damn leggings? They're just so thin and-"

"Please." Your breathy moan had him smirking and with a single grunt the leggings were ruined, cool air from the vents had only a moment to touch your bare ass before Hanta's hands reclaimed it.

There was no way he hadn't felt your arousal before ripping your clothes off, you soaked through your panties and leggings, you knew that, but that didn't stop him from commenting on how soaked you were now on his fingers. "Want me inside you, whore? I think you do."

You nodded with a whimper and he slipped a finger in. "Hants, noo- I- I want your cock, please."

"You're gonna take my fingers like a good little slut first." You clenched at the words falling from his mouth. "So fuckin' tight you can barely take a finger. How'm I supposed to fit in here if you can even take a single finger? Need you to loosen up, alright." He pushed another finger in, scissoring the two inside you.

"This gonna make you cum? You need this bad, don't you? Tell me. Tell me how bad you need to cum."

"I want it. Please, please, I need it. I'm so close," You babbled and ripped the foil open with his teeth, rolling it with one hand on his cock. In an instant, his fingers had been replaced with this dick. Sticky fingers on your ass helping you ease down on him with a hiss.

"Fuck," Hanta let out a throaty chuckle, "You still fuckin' feel the absolute best." He dropped a kiss between your breasts, letting you adjust to his girth. "Perfect. Good girl. Such a fuckin' good little slut."

He wasn't about to last long. Not once you started bouncing up and down on him, your tits right in front of his face.

"Couldn't even wait for me to get you home, had to fucking tease me in the damn car." He held onto the fat of your ass, pulling you along him and slamming you down hard.

"Kinda pathetic how desperate you are. Fuck. Kinda hot too."

When the top of your head bumped the roof of the car, he scooted lower, trying to give you as much room to ride him however you pleased.

"What do you need? You wanna cum, don't you, pretty girl, what do you need?"

"Faster, faster please."

Hanta shifted even lower, making you grab onto the two headrests while he thrust his hips up into you at a rapid speed. His thumb on your clit was the additional stimulation you needed to fall over the edge. Nails clawing at the black leather as he continued to moan below you now chasing his own release.

You stayed poised above him, using every last bit of strength to stay upright until his mouth was rambling and his cock pulsed inside of you. Fingers bruising your skin before holding your pelvis snuggly against his.

He was bent in a way that looked entirely uncomfortable and yet he still smiled so widely. Reaching up to brush hair out of your eyes, "You okay?"

"Perfects, Hants. A little sore but I'm sure you are too." He moved off his lap, letting him slip out of you with a groan, "Is your neck gonna be okay?"

"I'll be fine. Having you back, love, is more than worth a little bit of a neck cramp."

As he tied a knot in the condom, depositing it into a plastic bag he had tucked away under his seat, Hanta raised a brow, "Love, really, are you alright? Please, tell me if I hurt you at all."

"No! I'm good, why?"

"You're sitting silly."

You were sitting a little odd, perched on your knees rather than sitting on your ass because the leather was chilly and you told Hanta as much making him laugh. "Wait, I think I can help." He leaned back to the front of the car, flicking a button making it glow. Once he tucked himself back in his pants he hopped out of the car and you could see him rummaging in his trunk through the rear window.

"I keep forgetting to take this out from our camping trip a couple months ago. Guess it turned out to be a good thing." He laid the blanket down over the passenger's seat, declaring that should help a bit.

You wrapped the now toasty warm blanket around your bottom half while Hanta drove back towards the city, your head on his shoulder, his hand on your thigh.

"So, shopping tomorrow? I believe I owe you a pair of leggings..."

"It's a date."

#mha #mha smut #bnha #bnha smut #hanta sero #sero #sero smut #hanta sero smut #sero x reader #sero x y/n #hanta x y/n #hanta x reader #mha x y/n #mha x reader #smutober #kinktober 2021

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narrators-journal · 3 years ago

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Crushes are disgusting

Holy shit! At long last, I write something again lol. I am happy to report that I am out of my fandom burnout too! Now I’m just rusty and short on coherent ideas lol. But hey! That’s what asks are for lololol. For now, enjoy my silly little Akutagawa thought.

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke was never one to grow attached to anyone on any sort of level. Outside of his sister, the goth had no real friends, in his opinion, and even found most of his co-workers varying degrees of annoying. So, when he met you at the grocery store one day, he wasn't the most polite of customers. Despite that though, you were rather friendly, but didn't push him into a conversation like a lot of other cashiers tended to do. It was nice. In fact, it was such a refreshing breath of minding-your-own-business, that Akutagawa admittedly chose your particular register over the others whenever he could on his visits to the store. And in each visit, you wouldn't say more than a happy little hello, and maybe asking how his day was going. No over-sharing, no forcing conversation, just a general polite greeting while you rung up his items before giving him his total and a wave of farewell when he left. Aku would rarely give a proper response to you, mostly just wanting to get his food and go home. However, he appreciated how you seemed to be able to gauge how talkative he was, and how you adjusted appropriately. On top of that, the simple, pleasant interaction he had with you was something of a bright spot on his darker days. You once even complimented the decorative cloth thing he wore at the collar of his shirt, which, weirdly enough, sent a little shot of warmth through him. So, after months of his visits and preference for your particular register, and your repeated kindness, Akutagawa decided to try maybe being more polite. "So," he said while you slid a loaf of bread over the price scanner and bagging it for him, "uh, how has your day been?" you snorted a bit, but grinned, "Eh, pretty average. I haven't had any customer's scream at me at least, so that's a highlight." the goth nodded at that, having heard from some of the mafia goons how hard retail work could be, "Do customers often yell at you?" He asked, fishing his wallet out of his coat pocket when you scanned the last of his shopping, Why the hell am I fumbling so badly with this? He asked himself with a mental huff of annoyance, I can hold a damned conversation, quit being so painfully pathetic. "I mean, not every day, but it's not exactly rare, y'know?" You said with a small laugh before reading off the money he owed and letting him leave without another word from him. The entire walk home after that, Akutagawa regretted having spoken. Apparently, his mood was evident enough for Gin to notice almost as soon as he'd walked into the apartment they shared. "Hey there Ryuu, are you okay?" She asked, coming into the kitchen to watch him put away the things he'd gotten, "I'm fine." "Really? You seem more frustrated than usual." She pointed out, getting a cold glare from the dark-haired man, "I made a fool of myself at the store." He admitted after a moment, ducking down to put some food in the fridge and avoid his sister's reaction, "How'd you do that?" She asked simply, pulling herself up onto the counter as she spoke, "I...tried to talk a bit with the cashier, and for some reason, I sounded super unnatural." He huffed and stood up, hitting the fridge door in frustration, "I know I don't speak to a lot of people, but I'm not some pathetic pre-teen. I shouldn't sound like one when I hold a polite conversation." Gin let him vent, waiting until Akutagawa slammed the fridge shut and put the bread and other non-refrigerated goods away before speaking again, "Well, do you like the person you tried to talk to?" That got her another glare, "It was just some cashier. They've been polite to me the past few times I've went, so I was just trying to be polite back." "Okay, but...do you like this cashier at all?" She asked again, and when he gave her a more confused look, rolled her dark eyes, "I mean, do you get upset when they're not around? Did talking to them make you feel weird and nervous for no reason?" Aku blinked at that, thinking back to the interaction again. Now that he wasn't living the moment, he could remember that his nerves did seem a bit more frazzled than usual. God that's so stupid. They're probably just a normal person, not a threat. He chided himself while Gin took his silence as an answer, "I'm going to assume that's a yes. So, maybe you came off so weirdly because you were flustered." She suggested, snapping Aku out of his thoughts to glare at her once more, "Why would I be flustered to talk to some cashier?!" Gin simply shrugged at that, hopping down and strolling out of the kitchen with a simple, "Maybe you've got a crush, Ryuu, I dunno." The goth's only response was to stab at her with a strand of his coat, missing by an intentional distance while his face began to burn, that heat increasing when she only giggled at his reaction. "I do not have a crush!" He yelled after her, but his sister didn't bother responding. At least, I don't think I do...

#Akutagawa Ryuunosuke #Akutagawa x reader #bsd #bungo stray dogs #x reader #scenario #i tried my best

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minsyal · 4 years ago

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The Fugitive (Finding Home), Pt. 1

Karl Heisenberg x Reader

Warnings: strong language, Resident Evil-esque violence and descriptions of gore, and dark/sexual themes

Summary: A once-in-a-lifetime trip turned dark. You're quickly exposed to the sinister and mysterious world of a cursed village under the control of dark leaders. How long will you last and will you ever return home in one piece?

Backpacking through Eastern Europe was not a top priority on your “to do” list. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Being one to preplan everything, you were completely caught off guard when your roommate sprung the idea of the trip out of the blue. You roommate, Jezebel Haine, was your first and only roommate from college onward. All legs, she was one of the stars of the track team but was most certainly not one of the brightest shining ones. She was considerably dim-witted, fanatical, and had a booming over-the-top personality that scared every potential boyfriend who had the disservice of meeting her. There were times, though, that she was rather endearing. Her childlike sense of self and emotional drivers consistently put her at a crossroads between what everyone else was doing and what she should be doing; she was, and always will be, a follower.

After four years of becoming “the bestest of friends,” you had a hard time imagining such a hard shift either into another roommate or living alone. Plus, her parents funded most everything she did and, in turn, funded the apartment the two of you shared.

“It’s an amazing opportunity!” She insisted, waving her hands in a simple manner as she rose from the condensed cushion of the leather-clad couch. “Think about it.” Gathering your hands in hers like a 20’s actress who had just met the man of her dreams, she pulled the bundle to her chest. “We frolic through the European countryside, it’s golden hour. My skin looks absolutely gorgeous… yours too, of course. The sun is just about to set, but alas!” She let out a dramatic gasp, removing one of her hands to cover her mouth. “It’s growing dark out!”

“That’s what happens when the sun sets.” You noted, causing her to drop the act for a moment only to immediately go back into character.

“We hear the crunching of leaves and twigs all around us as if something…” she drew close and lowered her voice to a whisper, “sinister is coming. Out of no where we’re ambushed! By what, I’m not sure. Then,” her eyes became glassy as she lay a delicate hand to her forehead, “two absolute studs… and I’m talking big bulging muscles, gorgeous trendy hair, captivating eyes… really everything a simple girl could ask for… seemingly drop from the sky! We’re saved!” She throws your hands into the air as if they’d fall like confetti. Drawing both her arms in, she sways back and forth in a waltz of one. “We’d be married by the next day! Hell, maybe we’d even end up as princesses.”

Oh, how utterly wrong she was.

“I told you this was a stupid idea.” You groaned, haughtily holding your chin up while feeling your spirits low. A few miles back, on an asphalt road that quickly turned to dirt, sat the dingy red rental truck with a blown out engine and a deflating tire. With no cell service and the last town being over 100 miles back, your only choice was to walk.

“Don’t blame me!” Jezebel stopped walking, feet falling flat to the ground as she stomped her foot in a childish manner. “I,” her lip quivered as all the anger held in her body dissipated, “I just wanted to have a fun time with you.” Big tears flowed from her eyes quickly after finishing her proclamation, leaving smearing black lines down her face from the eyeliner she insisted was necessary in the Romanian countryside. God, if her parents weren’t funding this trip, you’d throw a fit for your money back.

“Jess, just,” reaching backward, you fished a rag from your backpack, “don’t cry. That’s not going to make this better.” Sniffling, she accepted the rag and wiped her eyes, further smearing black all over her face. You couldn’t help but feel a shred of sympathy for her. “Let’s just keep going. No use in wasting daylight. I really don’t want to get caught out here in the dark.”

“Where are we supposed to go, then?”

“I’m sure the next town will have some sort of inn or hotel. At the very least, they’ll have directions to the nearest city.”

After another five miles of walking, the sun was beginning to set and no gorgeous studs were waiting to save you. The blazing yellow ball inched slowly beyond the horizon. Its warming rays that had kept the snow from freezing the two of you in the day crept down below the snow peaked mountains that were nestled in the distance. Shadows began dancing between the trees, sending the forest into a theater of silent performers. The dirt road that was once large enough for two cars was now only a walking path so slim that Jezebel had to follow on your heels. Every now and again you were reeled back by the piece of rope that she had attached to your backpack that was firmly gripped in her hand. She claimed it made her feel safer.

“You think those two hunks are going to come save us now?” You joked, attempting to make light of this dark situation.

“I wish.” She huffed, frustration evading her voice as exhaustion took center stage.

Flickering light caught your eye. Hues of yellow and red mingled together in the distance, the outlines of rooftops and smoke-filled chimneys littered the ground below. “I think that’s a village.”

Another mile of downhill travel was all it took to reach the place where the once distant flickering of torches and lanterns grew into the quiet streets of a cluttered settlement. There was no clear indication of movement once you stepped foot in the village; the only evidence of any life came in the form of fresh boot prints, livestock, and the ever-blazing lanterns. Jezebel was all to happy to release your makeshift leash from her fingers, trotting mindlessly by to examine the street corners and homes. Your eyes continued wandering up the rooftops, finally landing upon the eerie looming castle situated on the mountainside above.

From around the bend, you heard Jezebel screech.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You threw caution to the wind, quickly rounding the corner to scold her like a parent would to a misbehaving child. “You don’t know if these people are violent or not. We can’t just go parading ourselves into the town center.”

“I think they’re violent.” She mustered the shaky words. Her hands covered her eyes and the majority of her face as she backed away from whatever had caused her distress.

“What?” The unpleasant squelch of snow beneath your feet caused your attention to draw downward. Dark snow surrounded your boot, an unnatural red hue stained the pure white. Gaze moving upward, your chest restricted feeling as if it had crushed inward on itself. The putrid smell finally fell upon your nostrils as you backed away from the scene. Severed animal heads hung lazily above you, their tongues flopping from their opened mouths.

“I want to go home.” Jezebel sobbed, rasping her cries into her cupped hand. Shaking her head as if to knock this moment from her brain, her short-lived façade of curiosity gave way to her immediate feeling of impending dread.

“That’s what I’m trying to do right now, Jess. Just, calm down.”

A low grumble had you standing further on edge, if that was possible at this point. The sound was clear as day and was anything but human. You weren’t even sure a human could get to an octave so low without the help of technology. Eyes darting upward once more, a chill ran from your shoulders to your toes.

Hauntingly yellowed eyes lingered upon the two of you. The beast-like figure was silhouetted by the moonlight, outlined like a ghost. It looked to be a man, but also anything but a man in the same sense. Its mouth was parted, baring old rotted teeth that looked to have dried blood caked between its gums. Its hands were bloodied as well, small cuts were painted across its forearms only hidden by the rags that clung to its chest.

Before you could process the situation, Jezebel let out another yelp. In an instant, the beast lunged down from its perch, landing with a ground shaking thud nearly five feet before you. “No!” Jezebel’s open palm collided with the space between your shoulder blades as she pushed you toward the monster. The last thing you saw was her backpack falling to the ground as she began running toward one of the homes. You landed face-first in the snow, groaning as all the air in your lungs were forced out. The beast snarled, once again showing its teeth as it hunched down to your level. This was, most certainly, not the way you envisioned dying. Things like this weren’t supposed to exist; this is myth, this isn’t real. It all felt like bad dream gone worse that you couldn’t wake from.

“Pesky creatures, aren’t they?” A new voice called out as the horrendous sound of metal crushing bone and muscle slithered through your ears. The disgusting feeling of gore instantly trickled down your hands. “Please,” the voice continued, “feel free to thank me anytime.”

A moment later, the stranger let out a scoff with the squishy suction of whatever he had used to quiet the monster. The tap of a boot on your elbow finally prompted you to uncover your eyes. “Or don’t.”

“I,” you started, opening and closing your mouth multiple times unable to find the right words, “thank you.”

“Oh.” He tiled the stiff rim of his frayed hat back, exposing a pair of circular sunglasses perched upon his nose. “Foreigners, eh?”

“Yeah, um.” You gathered yourself, finally pushing up to stand on your feet. “We got lost.”

“And ended up here, no doubt.” A stifled chuckle left his lips as he tilted his hat back in place and swung whatever he used to kill the beast over his shoulder. “If I were you, I’d get the hell out of here.”

Without another word, the stranger sauntered off with a backward wave of his hand. “Oh, and have someone clean this mess up.”

“Y/n!” Jezebel’s shrill voice called as she returned with a rather confused villager. He held a shotgun with both of his hands, Jezebel shone a flashlight in your eyes.

“Are you okay?” The villager moved forward with extreme caution after peering around you dumbfoundedly seeing the crumpled body.

“I’m fine, no thanks to her.” You spat, anger swelling in your throat causing a particular acidity to your words.

“All of you! Inside this instant.” A matronly holler came from behind Jezebel and the villager. “You know Miranda’s protection only runs so far as we grow closer to this time.”

Who is Miranda and, more importantly, who was the man who saved you?

The home you were ushered into was on the outskirts of town. It was one of the larger estates given the fact that some people seemed to live in one-room shacks. Upon entering, you were greeted with the warm glow of yellow light trickling in from what looked to be a formal living room. The sweet aromas of honeyed tea wafted through the air, drawing further in as the woman led the three of you deeper into the home. What was worse? You pondered. Being killed by that beast or potentially being murdered by the inhabitants of this home? You couldn’t decide. Thus far, the two gave no indication of malice.

“Please, sit.” The woman pulled out two of the chairs at her table, the wood scratching against the floor. “I’ll fetch the tea.”

Jezebel was so brainless. She smiled at you as if she hadn’t just offered you up as a midnight snack. Surely there was no hamster running on that squeaky track that powered her.

“What was that thing?” You turned to the man who was now seated to your right. “The monster.”

The man ignored your question, instead grabbing a piece of rounded bread from the plate at the center of table. Slathering butter on it, he looked to you. “How’d you kill it?”

“I didn’t.” You frowned, recalling the mysterious man who saved your life without even dropping his name. The villager raised his brows and kicked his foot up on the table. He was waiting for more information. “Some man came out of nowhere. He had some hammer-like weapon.”

As soon as he processed the words, his foot fell from the table and he leaned forward, uncomfortably close. You could smell the distinguishable bite of alcohol percolate from his lips. “Did he wear glasses? A hat?”

“He did.” The words slowly drifted from your mouth. “Hair to about here.” You motioned to the halfway point of your neck.

“Adelina,” the man called, presumably to the woman who guided you inside. He got up quickly, rushing to the other room leaving you and Jezebel alone.

“What the hell is going on here?” You whispered in a harsh tone, leaning forward to get closer to her. “Is this not weird at all to you?”

“I think they’re nice people.” Jezebel responded at full volume without a second of thought.

“That’s coming from someone who tried to feed their supposed best friend to a monster.”

“I was buying us time to get help.”

“Help? I almost died!”

“But you didn’t.”

“When we get back to the U.S. I never want to speak to you again.” You seethed. How could she be this bad? You knew there were a few… a considerable amount of screws missing from Jezebel, but how in God’s green earth does she justify her actions at this point? The thought of it accompanied by her dazed and empty stare only fueled the fire of anger more.

“Dear,” the woman, who you now knew was Adelina, reentered the room accompanied by the man with a tray of cups and a kettle in her hands. She set a delicate china glass in front of you, softly filling it with a reddish colored liquid that she assured you was Celestial Seasonings, a tea imported from Africa. “I hear that you’ve met Lord Heisenberg.” Placing a hand over her heart, she gave a warm smile that only sent another wave of dread through your body. There was something so alluring about this woman, yet so sinister.

“Lord, who?”

Adelina stiffened, craning her neck to the side as she plastered a forced smile upon her lips once more. You had upset her, that much was obvious. “One of the four Lords that rule here alongside our dear Mother Miranda.” She explained, pushing the cup of tea closer to your body. Jezebel had already finished her first glass. Warily, you lifted the cup in your hand and allowed the warm water to heat your frozen body. An elongated finger pointed to the framed painting that hung to the wall. “Mother Miranda protects us here.”

Mother Miranda. You could only focus on the image of the woman silhouetted by six black wings and a halo outlining her head. Her eyes were indistinguishable behind the raven-like mask that clung to her face. Adorned in a black garb, she looked to be a holy figure in this town. But like Adelina, something just wasn’t right with Miranda.

The unsettling reverb of crickets and cicadas chirping grew louder and louder with each passing hour. You counted the seconds between waves of mass chorus; so far, it was roughly thirty seconds between each bleating scream of their nightly tune. You couldn’t sleep. Despite the somewhat comforting, but entirely unsettling welcome given by Adelina and Marion, you couldn’t help but feel like a caged animal in the tiny cupboard room they had given you. A curious thought tickled the back of your mind, willing you to remain as alert as possible after an exhausting day of hiking; where had they put Jezebel? Not that you particularly cared at this point. After the attack she had done a 180, dropping all suspicion of malice in this village. She simply flushed the pictures of hanging heads and wild beasts from her memory. You sometimes envied her lackadaisical memory accompanied by a fanatical view of the world. Living blissfully ignorant, especially in a situation like this, seemed to serve her best.

After a small dinner of fish that smelled of ammonia, of which you politely picked at, Adelina insisted the two of you stay the night. “The beasts will return!” She exclaimed, holding a firm hand over the intricately carved wood of the doorframe. “Early tomorrow we can arrange for a car to pick you up from the next town over.” Hushed murmurs climbing up from the cracked floors pulled you from your thought. The voices spoke in an incomprehensible argument.

“I’d quite like to keep...” the words faded in and out.

“No, no, no. Don’t be ridiculous...”

“What if....”

The floor spoke a soft squeak from beneath your feet as you shifted to get closer to the voices. Their conversation stopped, and you waited with bated breath for it to continue.

“We have to offer someone up tomorrow.” It was Adelina.

“I know, I know.” Marion sounded frustrated. “But you know Mother Miranda prefers only the purest. How are we supposed to know if either of them are-”?

The words faded once more as the two moved from room to room. Walking on the sides of your feet, you followed. Peeking around the corner, your eyes landed on Adelina and Marion illuminated by a flickering fire. They stood close to one another, keeping their tones low.

“Clearly, we offer the frumpy one. Take a look at her. There’s no doubt in my mind that she’s unexperienced.” Adelina snickered, taking a seat on the worn couch with her back to you. “She wouldn’t fit in here anyway.”

“The dumb one would get along nicely with our son.”

“I agree.”

A knock at the front door sent a shiver of adrenaline down your spine. Quickly scrambling to hide, you took in a deep breath as Marion passed by with his shotgun in hand. From the parted door, you could see the sun barely peeking over the horizon. Had it really been that long already?

“Are you sure she’s pure?” The new man stood in the doorway rushed past Marion, looking in the direction of the room they had put you in.

“I suppose we could check.” Adelina called, rising to join the others. “The both of them had that tea. They shouldn’t wake until the ceremony later today.”

“Is she in there?”

“Yes, the other one is upstairs.”

“Let’s check this one first.”

With heavy footsteps falling upon the rotting floorboards of the somewhat dilapidated home, you slunk further into the shadows of the room behind you. The glint of something metal caught your attention; a small handgun sat perfectly on a dresser as if set there intentionally for you to find. Holding your breath, you crept forward to it. You’d never shot a gun in your life, but you knew the basics... both hands, check for ammo, rack the slide, pull the trigger. At least, that’s what the movies told you.

“Out of bed so soon, are we?” The soft voice turned malevolent as Adelina appeared in the doorway of the room. “I wouldn’t use that if I were you.” She motioned to the gun that was aimed rather unskillfully for her chest.

“What the fuck is going on in this village?” You spoke with purpose now, tone wavering slightly as Marion stepped behind his wife.

“You don’t understand things around here, girl.” Adelina spat, moving aside as Marion began charging into the room. The loud blast of the gun echoed from the walls of the home followed by a harsh curse and the sound of a body crumpling to the floor. You had shot Marion in the leg; he’d live.

“No,” you started, re-racking the slide as Adelina’s other friend approached wielding a similar gun to your own. Adrenaline washed over your nervous system, your hands shook violently, but you attempted to remain composed. “You’re the one who doesn’t understand. This isn’t normal! Tell me what’s going on now or,” your eyes trailed down to Marion who was attempting to control the flow of blood from his wound.

“You wouldn’t.” She laughed bitterly.

“Like hell, I wouldn’t.” You exclaimed, training the gun onto her. “Now tell me, what’s happening here.”

“You’ll understand soon enough.” Adelina’s friend’s words were the last thing you heard before your ears rang and the sting of a bullet burnt white hot in your shoulder. You weren’t sure if your gun ever went off again.

Despite being tied, bathed, dressed, and currently sitting on a freezing alter-of-sorts, you still hadn’t the slightest clue as to what was going on. A crowd of villagers surrounded from the south, all carrying on with a rumble of conversation. Adelina shot daggers at you, Marion as well, from a small, inclined hill at the edge of the crowd. The clothes you wore were your own, she had fished through your backpack claiming that it was of no use to waste a nice dress on “someone like her.” Jezebel was likely still fast asleep at their house.

A woman with the likeness of the framed photo you had seen appeared out of nowhere. So, this was the famous Mother Miranda that everyone regarded so deeply. She stood before you as the crowd’s voices hushed and their eyes became hazed with looks of admiration and devoted appreciation. Surely, she was a human, deities and gods didn’t exist in a physical form, you assured yourself.

Without a word, Miranda moved gracefully as if flowing across the ground to stand before Adelina. Taking her face between her hands, she whispered what you assumed to be praise as Adelina’s lips moved rapidly thanking Miranda. She then moved to Marion and grazed her hand against the wound on his thigh, speaking of how his steadfast devotion would quickly heal any injuries of cruelty spread by evil. When her attention finally fell back to you, she frowned. Stalking around you in circles, Miranda’s imposing figure made you want to shrivel to nothingness.

“Thank you.” She turned to the villagers as if to dismiss them. “When the time comes, I will return for another.”

The black wings you had seen in the photo sprouted from her back, shielding your sight of the villagers as they retreated to their homes. Hopeful cries and shouted blessings to Miranda echoed from the crowd as the village gate slammed. The only evidence of them once populating this empty square were flowers and offerings of fruit and grain left for the supposed goddess.

The world swiftly darkened once more.

Part 2 - Paths Meet

I promise there's more Heisenberg in the next part..

Feedback is always appreciated

#karl heisenberg #heisenberg x reader #karl heisenburg x reader #resident evil village #resident evil heisenberg #re8 heisenberg #heisenberg imagine #lord heisenberg

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astaroth1357 · 4 years ago

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Demon Brothers Getting Possessive at the Club

… I can explain. Or, well, no I can't. But this exists now anyway so enjoy?

Warnings: Possessive Behavior, Yandere-ish, Violence

Intro: The MC and their favorite demon were just trying to have a fun night out at The Fall. The lights were going, the music was blaring, and the two of them were by the bar but there was a problem. Their demon noticed a sketchy creep who'd been eyeing their human all night long… and that simply won't do. So when their human left to use the bathroom…

It was time to take care of the problem.

Lucifer

Though Lucifer was usually less than into the club scene, the MC wanted a change of pace from their usual dates and he did so want to make them happy… At first, he thought he'd just be dealing with the loud noise and crowded atmosphere but then he noticed something else…

A demon had been following them through most of the night, always keeping his distance but staring at the MC far too much for his liking…

This put Lucifer in a bit of an odd position. He didn't exactly want to leave the club because the MC didn't look tired yet, but he also didn't like seeing that cretin following them around…

Yet, of course, it also rubbed his pride the wrong way to go tell him to stop directly. Lucifer would never admit to feeling bothered by some pitiful lesser demon… Never.

But by the time the MC left him to use the restroom, he was at his wit's end. He could see the man had taken a seat at the other end of the bar just to watch them and he was growing irritated… So he had to devise a new strategy.

It's unusual for demons to walk around in their true forms. It's not that it's frowned upon or anything, it's just that it's normally something reserved for big events… or for displays of dominance and control.

So when Lucifer slipped into his demon form in the middle of The Fall, it turned quite a few heads. Truthfully, there was only one head in particular that he wanted his way, and once he got it, he stared the guy down…

It was a taste of the lowlife's own medicine, but so much worse coming from him… The feel of Lucifer's bloody-onyx eyes and chillingly cold smile from across the bar could have made even the strongest men run for the hills…

Needless to say, the demon didn't last very long under the eldest brother's gaze. In fact, he wilted almost immediately before slinking away as quickly as he could…

A guy not even able to stomach the firstborn's stare? Truly a pathetic coward if Lucifer ever saw one.

He was totally back to normal by the time the MC returned and went back to dancing with them like nothing ever happened… Though his human couldn't help but notice the crowd kept their distance from them for the rest of the night...

Eh, Hell is just weird sometimes isn't it?

Mammon

Look, Mammon had been trying to have some fun the whole night and for the most part he'd been succeeding except for one thing…

He could sense that asshole still hadn't left them alone. He'd just hover near him and his MC like a hellhound stalking prey… It was annoying. It was creepy…

And it was reeeaaallly getting on his nerves.

When the MC left for the restroom, he was leaning back against the bar scanning the room for their abhorrent admirer while using the tint of his sunglasses to hide his eyes.

It didn't take him long to see the gross fuck sitting alone at a table. Who knew what he was planning... following them home? Taking candid shots of MC? Either way, he wanted to sock him in the jaw…

But, of course, Mammon knew he had to play it just a little smoother than that to stay in the club.

Mammon sauntered over to the man's table and invited himself to sit, kicking his feet up to look casual but knocking his boots against the surface so roughly it made the guy jump... Pathetic.

"Oi, so I've seen ya lookin at my human… Real work of art, eh?" He flashed the guy a fanged grin and watched him sweat for a second before cutting off any answer.

"-'course they are. Don't need to tell me. But I gotta say, you're really ticking me off, bud… We're just tryin to enjoy ourselves but I keep seeing your ugly mug wherever we're at."

He pulled his legs back from the table and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a deck of playing cards.

"Tell ya what, I'm feelin oddly generous so let's play a game. You and me. If ya win, I'll let ya have a night with'em…" He fought the urge to punch the guy when he saw his eyes light up, "but if I win…"

Mammon put the deck on the table then leaned in real close, "I'll flay your skin off and gild ya skeleton in the 4th circle myself… Gold skulls are selling like hotcakes right now." He put every bit of malice he could into the threat, even barring his increasingly sharpening fangs.

The guy must of had a good head on him because he paled immediately before getting up and running from the table. If there's one thing everybody knows about Mammon, it's never play cards with him if he can make even a single Grimm… Chances are, you're gonna lose.

When the MC came back, Mammon flagged them down to their new table and pulled them onto his lap for a little chat before getting more drinks. They're his human. His.

Leviathan

Of course Levi noticed this creep the second that they walked in. He's Envy. He had been hyper-vigilant of all the attention the MC had been receiving since their first step inside. But this guy was… persistent.

He'd been tailing them all night, always finding spots with good vantage points, which of course was sketch as hell but...

Honestly? Levi just didn't like him looking at them. Not at all. In fact, he'd hazard to say he truly hated this complete stranger for how much real estate his eyes were taking up of his precious MC… What gave him the right??

By the time the MC had to use the restroom, he was sitting at the bar seriously contemplating whether or not to just carry them home… He didn't like night clubs anyway, but they seemed to be having fun and they always looked so cute while dancing…

No. He couldn't just take them home. But once they left, he had a much better idea.

It was easy for Levi to slip away from the bar. The asshole was leaned back against a nearby wall and pretty much pulled his phone out the second the MC was out of sight. From there, Levi only had to do what he did best, blend into the background, until he was right next to the guy...

He didn't say anything. He didn't give him any warning or threat. No, no he was far too ticked to be that charitable…

The only indication the man got of how royally he fucked up was the searing pain of Levi's fangs digging into his shoulder, the thirdborn's gloved hand muffling his screams until the venom took hold of his prey.

The last thing that man ever saw, propped up and paralyzed against the wall, was the MC coming back to their docile otaku, who now pulled them into his arms… still shooting the occasional smirk in his victim's direction.

And the last thing he ever heard was the same word his killer whispered to him after his throat became too tight to scream… "Mine."

Satan

This always seemed to happen whenever he took the MC places… They could be walking together in the park and he'd still see lesser demon eyes following them around...

Frankly, it did piss him off to a degree. He knew they never asked to be stared at like a piece of meat, but if he'd go on a rampage every time it happened then they'd never have a quiet date again. So he learned to put up with it… to an extent.

The demon that had been following them that night was really testing his notoriously short patience...

He had tried several tactics to shake the guy as they were dancing but he'd always come right back. He even got more handsy than normal to show, "Hey, this one is mine!" but that had gotten him equally dismal results… It was bordering the line of disrespect now.

He did his best to keep up a friendly face while the MC was with him, but they must have noticed he'd gotten tense. They told him to try and relax a bit before they left for the bathroom…

Oh, he was going to relax alright.

The second they were out of sight, Satan's smile broke into a glare he leveled right at the offending scumbag's table. Of course, seeing the MC had left put the guy's attention elsewhere, but that was his funeral.

Satan knew his time was limited, so he skipped the pleasantries and marched right over to him, slamming his foot down onto the edge of the table with such force it threatened to tip it over then grabbed him by the neck.

"Back. OFF."

It really didn't take much, his reputation preceded him. He felt the guy's pulse skyrocket between his fingers before he let him go.

It was hard not to get a little satisfaction when watching the worthless creep scramble away from him like his life depended on it (as it very much did). He almost considered giving chase just to amp up the fun, but the MC returned sooner than he expected…

A pair of arms around his waist and lips against his cheek were enough to evaporate his anger right then… but it didn't settle his sudden need to mark them in the slightest.

Ultimately, the real question was whether he could wait until they got home to show the world that they were his or if they needed to find somewhere… quieter. No promises, MC.

Asmodeus

Asmo had dealt with his fair share of admirers, the stalking kind included. Fortunately, dealing with them had always been relatively easy for him (he is a ruler of Hell after all) but one targeting his beloved human…? That was far less acceptable in his eyes.

He caught sight of the beady eyes of the creep while he was dancing with the MC. At first, he thought the guy was looking at him (who wouldn't?) but then he followed his eyeline right to his lovely human companion…

Though he couldn't exactly blame him for staring, he and MC made a fantastic looking pair, he definitely couldn't sit idly by either. People like this are usually bad news and he refused to let any harm come to his MC…!

He was as tactful as ever, though. He liked The Fall and would rather not be banned from returning… He waited patiently for the MC to go to the bathroom before making his way over to the creep, his perfect smile still sitting on his face.

"Excuse me, cutie." He waited for the stalker's eyes to leave his phone and settle on Asmo's own. "Ah, there you are! Good. I had a question for you, I think… oh no, I must have forgotten it! Silly me."

Though he could see the demon was growing annoyed, Asmo stalled for just a few moments longer… just long enough for his bewitching charm to set into his victim's mind.

"Ah! Now I remember. Do you like dogs?" He smiled in satisfaction to see the creeper's head nod slowly. "Oh good! Because I know a very hungry dog right now… Cerberus is his name and I don't think he's had a meal today. Would you be a doll and go feed him for me? He lives in the cave behind the House of Lamentation. You can't miss him."

The demon's head nodded slowly yet again as he rose from his chair and walked out of the club quietly. Quick, painless, and with no messy cleanup!

Well… none that Cerberus wouldn't clean up for him anyway. Asmo returned to the bar with a newly giddy grin on his face... His MC wouldn't be seeing that man ever again~!

Beelzebub

Beel is very patient. Beel is very kind. Beel is very forgiving. Beel is… really not about this right now...

Unlike his brothers, Beel's easygoing nature made him less quick to pick up on the lingering glances that the MC gets from others. Even when he does notice, he can usually let it slide if looking is all they do (he's the only one who can touch after all).

But even he couldn't miss how wolfishly that demon was staring at them… It made him uncomfortable and the guy just refused to leave them alone…

By the time the MC left Beel at the bar to use the restroom, he was on a level of irritated usually only reserved for when someone denied him food… It was like that jerk had taken a cheese grater to his patience and it was wearing thin…

As much as he knew he could deck him, he didn't want to get them kicked out… The MC was having such a good time, despite the creep's ogling, so he used a different approach…

Being so high up in Hell had its perks and one was that anywhere in town that offered food also had a secret menu… A Beelzebub Only menu (as a precaution so that he wouldn't wreck the place whenever he stopped by). Anything on his menu always had huge portions and The Fall was no exception.

The bartender didn't seem too surprised when he ordered a Drakon Leg, but he was very surprised when he asked to get the full bone too… Not with the meat on it. Just the bone.

Fun Fact: the bones of Drakons are supremely thick and strong enough to be used as clubs.

Even More Fun Fact: it takes an incredible amount of force to snap these bones…

...which Beel did without breaking a sweat… and maintaining eye contact with the creep The. Entire. Time. The sound of the bone snapping in two was almost as deafening as a gunshot and he didn't even flinch.

The demon went running out of the club with his tail between his legs and quickly got swapped out for the MC running back, worried about what made such a loud noise…

Of course, by that time Beel had the bone thrown away and was chowing down on the meat like nothing ever happened so they dropped the subject soon enough...

He may not be as open about when he claims someone as the rest of his family but that's because when push comes to shove, who in their right mind would want to challenge Beel anyway...?

Belphegor

Nope. Nope. Nope nope nope, he's not having this. Not one bit.

Belphie lacks a lot of the good-natured patience of his twin... Chances are if there's something happening and he's not stopping it, it's just because putting up with it is the path of least resistance…

But there are always exceptions and those are usually reserved for the MC.

Strangers trying to get close or even imagining themselves being with MC really makes his blood boil… He knew them the most. He loved them the most. On just what grounds did some random moron think he could take his place?? Wishful thinking? Keep dreaming, buddy.

So, of course, he wasn't happy when he noticed some asshole staring at the MC like Beel does when he sees a havoc roast...

He kept his poker face up while he was with the MC, but he was devising a plan to take care of him the entire time… One he finally got the chance to enact once the MC went to the bathroom.

He's even better at going unnoticed than Levi, so sneaking his way over to the asshole was a piece of cake. He didn't notice until Belphie casually draped his arm around the guy's neck, hanging his clawed hand dangerously close to the scumbag's heart...

"Having a good time…?"

He could feel a shallow swallow against his arm as he began to slowly apply pressure to his trachea.

"I bet you were… and I was too until I saw you following us… Care to explain yourself?"

"I-I uh-Gah!"

The guy's voice gets cut off by Belphie's arm getting even tighter, the sharp tips of his claws drumming directly over the man's thundering heart.

"Ugh, that's what you actually sound like? Never mind, it's not worth knowing…" His fingers stopped drumming and slowly began to dig into his skin...

"I'm only going to say this once… If I ever see you tailing my human again, you won't be needing this-" his claws drilled a little deeper into his chest, "-anymore. Am I clear?"

The demon's head nodded as much as his strangled throat would allow and Belphie finally retracted his claws, wiping the blood off on the guy's shirt before letting him go. He fell forward onto all fours before attempting to scramble away as fast as he could...

Belphie watched him go with disinterest on his face, but satisfaction in his heart. Yet another threat to his human dealt with… And they could go back to enjoying their evening together. Alone. Just where his human belonged...

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #tw: yandere #tw: possessive behavior #tw: paralysis #tw: violence #tw: mentions of death

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ptergwen · 4 years ago

Note

Hi val! Got a request, it's okay if you don't wanna write it, but can you write about peter telling the reader he's going on a huge mission and he's excited about it but the reader is so worried they end up arguing? But when peter gets back from mission all bruised, the reader is still upset but dresses his wound anyway and it ends up with fluff??

abort mission

w/c: 2.4k

warnings: mentions of blood, swearing, and angst

a/n: woah woah woah i ended up writing way more than i expected but i loved this request so much :,) i hope you do too

“we’re staying in this, like, super fancy castle while we’re there. it’s gonna be awesome,” peter rambles to you. he takes all the clean shirts in his drawer and throws them into a suitcase.

he’s packing for a mission in europe with the avengers, and you’re here to say goodbye. you’ve been pretty quiet while peter gives you as many details as he’s allowed to. it’s always an honor when the team invites him on. he gets so stoked about it. you’re happy he’s happy and gets to pursue his passion, but you’ve noticed a pattern.

every time peter leaves the country with earth’s mightiest heroes, he comes back in worse condition than the last. it seems like they protect everyone except peter. he’s oblivious to the fact that the end result is always his suffering. he’s just glad to be there. really, he gets nothing in return except scars that never heal, not even a permanent spot on the team.

so, you’re not thrilled he agreed to go.

“plus, i get to miss two weeks of school.” peter beams, getting onto his knees to zip the suitcase. “feels like a vacation almost.” “you like school, though,” you remind him. you’re sat at the edge of his bed while you watch, rather than help. he hops up again with a shrug. “i like vacations more.” “it’s not a vacation,” you mutter to yourself, then speak up.

“how are you gonna catch up? that’s a lot of missing assignments.” with that same innocent smile, peter walks over to you. he grabs both your hands and laces your fingers together. “i’m a fast learner. besides, ned said he’d help me.” you sigh, looking down at the floor so you don’t have to look at peter. “or, you could. make it into a little study date when i get back,” he suggests while playing with your fingers.

“i don’t even want you to go,” you finally admit and meet his sparkling eyes. nothing could ever dull them. “why not? you’re gonna miss me?” peter teases, pressing a couple of kisses to your palm. “you don’t have to. i’m pretty sure france has wifi.” he wiggles his eyebrows. “oui oui, mademoiselle, eh?” despite yourself, you giggle at his french accent and tug on his hands. he sits down next to you with a chuckle.

“nat has been giving me lessons,” peter explains, you quirking an eyebrow. “she speaks french?” “she speaks a lot of languages, actually. she’s so cool.” peter scoots closer to you and sets his hands on your waist, his voice dropping. “you’d love her.” your face twists up in confusion at the idea.

you don’t have anything against the avengers, obviously. they’re good people. you’re just not the biggest fan of them at the moment, considering the circumstances they’ve put peter under.

“peter, i don’t want you to go,” you repeat more seriously than before. your teeth sink into your lower lip. “and, it’s not because i’ll miss you.” “none taken,” peter jokes, implying there should’ve been a no offense. he then realizes how distressed you look, so he cuts it out. “sorry, sorry. i’m done now. how come?”

you take his hand again and hold it tight. “what if you get hurt?” you ask in the nicest way possible, out of care. “i don’t wanna see you hurting, pete. this mission sounds really... dangerous.” he runs his thumb over the back of your hand, his grin faltering a bit. “it is, but i’m ready for it. i’ll be fine.”

you’re not convinced yet. that line he likes to overuse isn’t enough to do the trick.

his eyes searching for yours, peter brushes a piece of your hair back. “have a little faith in me, babe.” “no, i... i do. i have the most faith in you, peter.” you find yourself frowning as he twirls your locks around his finger. “that’s not the problem.” peter’s voice becomes a whisper. “what is it, then? talk to me.”

you do the opposite because you’re afraid you’ll upset him further, which is the last thing he needs right now. your silence prompts peter to fill it. “would it make you feel better if i say mr. stark is keeping an eye on me?” he’s smiling sheepishly, you scoffing. “oh, like he kept an eye on you in amsterdam?”

the only eye related activity that happened there was peter almost losing one of his. he’d come back with an eyepatch and couldn’t see out of it for over a month. to this day, there’s still a bit of blood in it when you look close enough.

“i already told you, that was my fault,” peter grumbles, turning so he faces forward. “i didn’t listen to him-“ “who gives a shit? he’s the one who put you in that situation!” you blurt out. you’ve been way too patient this whole time, and now you’re reaching your breaking point. “you say that like i didn’t wanna be there.” peter clenches his jaw, still mostly calm.

“either way, mr. stark,” you mock what peter always calls him, “was supposed to keep you safe, and he didn’t. i’m scared it’s gonna happen again.” letting out a noise close to a growl, peter stands up from the bed. “you’re not listening to me, y/n. everything was fine. i just-“ you’re not in the mood to hear him make excuses, so you interrupt.

“do you know any other sixteen year olds who fight literal terrorists on their free time?” you rhetorically ask and get to your own feet. peter tries to walk away from you, only you follow him. “you’re a kid, peter, in case you forgot.” he spins around to give you a nasty look. “do you know any other sixteen year olds who stick to fucking walls?”

your heart starts to race from his sudden outburst. he’s scary when he’s mad, and he almost never gets mad at you. all you can do is blink dumbly. “didn’t think so,” peter spits. “this is what i’m supposed to do, help people. is that so wrong?” his breathing becomes ragged as his anger grows.

“what about you? are you helping yourself?” you speak softly, expecting an answer this time. “you’re not my fucking therapist, y/n,” he deflects the question. “i am your girlfriend, though. i care about you so much, you know that.” eyebrows furrowed in concern, you reach out for peter. he takes a step back. it doesn’t take long for tears to cloud your vision.

“i was excited to share this with you, and i thought you’d be happy for me.” peter balls his hands into fists at his sides. his voice stays low. “instead, you made it all about yourself. you can never let me enjoy team stuff.” you’re speechless, peter nodding as he lets his words sit. “thanks for the support.”

“you’re an asshole,” you laugh out bitterly and wipe under your eyes.

he didn’t mean to make you cry. he was so caught up in himself, he didn’t realize you were.

peter’s whole demeanor changes. “y/n, baby...” he attempts to put a hand on your cheek, but you hit it away. “get off of me. what did i just say?” you sniffle, your tone harsh in contrast. “you’re an asshole, peter.” he changes his mind about feeling bad. you’ve berated him way more than he did you, anyway.

“you should go. i have to be up early,” peter decides, even though he’d said you could stay the night. whatever, you don’t want to anymore. “fine,” you agree shortly. “i’m leaving.” he stands there while you collect your things, shoving them into your bag. you’re going slow enough so he has a chance to stop you. he doesn’t.

you pass by him on your way to his door, sucking in a breath. here’s your official goodbye. “see you later, peter. don’t die.” “mhm, i won’t,” he replies, his tongue poking at his cheek. with one more shared look between you two, you make your grand exit, no doubt informing may of her nephew’s behavior before you’re gone.

peter immediately regrets the way he talked to you, and that you’re leaving things like this. you were only trying to protect him. you’ll never be able to save the city like he does, so this is how you do it. he truly is an asshole for not seeing that.

frustration consuming him, peter kicks over his fully stuffed suitcase, its contents spilling out. he grits his teeth.

“fan-fucking-tastic.”

you don’t talk to peter the whole two weeks he’s gone except for some are you alive and yes texts. he’d called you quite a few times, and was sent to voicemail for all of them. he gave you the benefit of the doubt because of timezones.

it was actually because you declined, which peter knew deep down was the real reason.

he’s coming home from his mission today. you’re not sure when or if he plans on dropping by. you’re not sure you’d like him to, either. you don’t really get a choice in the end.

there’s a series of knocks at your window, at some ungodly time in the night. you’re all too familiar with this routine. it’s peter.

you slip out from under your covers, a scowl already painting your face as you go to the window. surely enough, peter is perched in front of it, clad in red and black. the suit must be new because you’ve never seen it. you push up the window and step aside so he can get through.

“thanks,” peter mumbles, climbing into your room less gracefully than usual. he’s sort of wobbly when he lands. “yeah,” you dully acknowledge. “how was france?” “uh, good. you know, lots of cheese and all that.” his voice is muffled from his mask, since he hasn’t taken it off yet. that’s odd. “i was talking about the mission, but cool,” you almost laugh back.

“the mission was... fine,” peter clarifies and scratches the back of his neck. he never describes something as simply being ‘fine.’ when the boy talks, he lectures. you’re starting to get worried. “that’s good. at least you didn’t die, right?” you say to lighten the mood. peter awkwardly chuckles. “haha, yeah. thank god for that.”

you hum and walk over to sit on your bed, peter staying where he is. “what time did you get back?” you wonder, a completely harmless question. “um, this morning,” he says in response, raising your suspicions. “why’re you still in the suit, then?” you squint at him. “i like it, by the way.” “thanks, y/n/n. i, uh,” peter trails off, no good explanations coming to mind.

you’re quickly developing a hunch for what what down. you wordlessly get up again, meeting peter by your window. he’s nervous to see what happens next. peter’s shoulders slump when your fingers land on his mask. you carefully lift it, revealing his face to you. his banged up, bloody face.

“surprise.” peter musters up a grin, you tossing the mask at his chest. you’re beyond angry now. it’s not at him, athough it is at his injuries. “please don’t be mad,” he nearly begs, you shaking your head. you go to leave your room for some space. peter’s fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling you back. “i should’ve listened to you, okay? i’m sorry,” he genuinely apologizes.

you still don’t say anything while you look over his beaten body. there’s a gash with stitches in it on his chin, a deep slice across the bridge of his nose, cuts littering his cheeks. he’s even got a busted lip for good measure. this might be the worst condition he’s let you see him in.

“you were right, y/n. i think... i think i’m gonna sit the next one out. it’s too much for me, clearly,” peter continues, fingers sliding down to lock with yours. “you should say you told me so.” “how... how did this happen?” you manage to get out instead. “the bad guy fought me,” he says with the hint of a smirk. “i won, though.”

it’s a relief that he’s handling this so well, even earning a laugh from you. that puts you more at ease.

“this is probably a dumb question, but are you okay?” you brush your thumb over peter’s cheekbone gently, avoiding his scratches. “not really. my face hurts a lot, and flash is gonna tease the hell out of me on monday.” his lips form a line, arms looping around your waist. it’s very much welcomed by you.

“you just spent two weeks trying not to die, and you’re worried about flash?” you snicker and draw a heart on his skin. peter shrugs a shoulder. “he’s so mean to me.” he brings you in closer to him. “besides, this is the normal kid stuff i should be focusing on.” you’re glad he finally came to terms with that. you’ve been saying it for the longest time.

you smile wickedly at him. “exactly. so is all that homework you have to make up.” peter lets out a breathy laugh, you laying your head on his chest. “i missed you,” he tells you quietly. “really wish i could kiss you right now.” “i missed you too, pete. so much,” you murmur into him. your hands settle on his biceps. “and, i forgive you.” “thanks, baby,” peter exhales.

“of course. once your lips are healed,” you pull back from his chest, making a kissing noise. “pucker up, lover- oh my god.” you’re looking up at him with wild eyes. peter gets reasonably startled from it. “what? what’s wrong?” “you... you’re bleeding!” you point at his stitches. he winces, touching the spot. there’s blood, alright.

“crap. do you have a bandaid or something?” peter gives you an apologetic smile. “mr. stark said i should cover them when this happens.” maybe, tony isn’t so bad after all. you nod and take him by his hand. “yeah, in the bathroom. come with me.”

peter sits on the edge of your bathtub while you patch up his chin. he tells you more about the fun parts of his mission, you placing the cinderella bandaid over his gash. you have those from a while ago and also regular ones. however, he preferred the princess design.

“you saw the real mona lisa? like, in person? that’s insane.” you grin, smoothing down peter’s bandaid one last time. “yeah, she’s even prettier up close.” peter returns the smile. “thanks for taking care of me, y/n. i swear i don’t deserve you sometimes.” now pouting at him, you crouch down so you’re at his level. “it’s the other way around, peter.”

“let’s just agree to disagree,” he concludes and tucks a stray hair behind your ear. “i love you, okay?” “i love you, too.” you press a light kiss to his bandaid, getting a giggle from peter.

yeah, it’s going to be hell finding replacements for his lips.

#peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker angst #peter parker smut #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland smut

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queenshelby · 4 years ago

Text

Accidents Happen (Just Friends Part 8) - Cillian Murphy Imagine

Featuring: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: SMUT

Words: 3337

Tag List (Cillian Murphy):

@lilymurphy03 @deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall @elenavampire21 @hanster1998 @mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-my-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang @0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis

Cannot Tag (please check your settings):

@l0tsofpennies @margoo0 @trolleydolly @avonlady1985 @chrisevanshoeee @daydreamingnymph @fookingshelby

Note: This is fictional and doesn’t include reference to Cillian’s real children and wife.

Dublin to Birmingham

Just six weeks ago you and Max moved in with Cillian and things couldn’t have gotten much better between you.

Whilst you both took this step out of convenience and fairly early on in your somewhat fresh relationship, you were both happy and comfortable with your decision.

Max loved having Cillian’s children around and Cillian was slowly becoming like a father to Max, something he had never experienced before. He treated Max the same way he treated his own children and, sometimes, you wondered how you got so lucky. Even you and Cillian’s ex-wife had managed to build a reasonable relationship and, when Cillian wasn’t able, you would sometimes drive to her house to pick up his two sons. The age gap between you and Cillian didn’t bother her once she learned how you interacted with the children and once she met your son Max.

As far as your relationship with Cillian was concerned, you loved having each other’s company on a day-to-day basis. You often cooked together, took long warm baths together and played board games with the kids. But, most of all, you loved spending nights together in the same bed. It was not only romantic but comforting for you to have the man you loved by your side every night until quite recently.

Unfortunately, just as you settled into your new home, Cillian had to travel to England to begin filming the next season of Peaky Blinders.

This meant that you were going to be on your own for three weeks with Max before you would see him again in Birmingham, which is where your parents lived.

Whilst filming didn’t actually take place in Birmingham, Cillian was meeting you and Max there over the long weekend to finally meet your parents. It was your father’s birthday and, unfortunately, he wasn’t too fond of your relationship with Cillian.

Initially, you didn’t share much with your family other than the fact that you were living with Cillian and that he shared care for his two children with his ex. Furthermore, your parents had a problem with the age gap between you and Cillian after your father asked how old he was.

Your parents considered that age and the fact that you had three children between you might become an issue if you wanted more children of your own. You knew that Cillian didn’t want any more children and at this point, neither did you. Things were perfect the way they were and you hoped that your parents would accept your relationship once they saw how happy Cillian made you.

But, little did you know that, your parents would give him a much harder time than necessary when they first meet him.

On the Friday evening, when you arrived in Liverpool with Max, you were excited to see your parents. But, you were even more excited to see Cillian who you were meeting at the airport.

You had hired a car to drive to your parents’ house together. That way, you could drive back to Liverpool on the Monday with Cillian for another few quite days between you while your grandmother had planned to take Max back to Dublin.

In her opinion, you and Cillian were in need of some time together without kids. Unlike your parents, she adored Cillian and supported your relationship.

As you and Max got out of the plane and entered the terminal, you could see Cillian waiting for you from far away. He couldn’t be missed wearing the Thomas Shelby haircut and, unfortunately for you, other people recognised him as well.

But, he didn’t seem bothered by the fact that people were starring at him and took you into his arms before giving you a kiss as soon as you and Max approached.

He then proceeded to give Max a hug before offering you help with your bags.

‘Nice haircut’ you chuckled as you ran your hand over the back of his head.

‘Funny’ he smirked as he took your bag and walked with you and Max to the car.

You knew that he hated getting his hair cut with this style and couldn’t help but tease him.

‘I just love that I will get to meet your entire family while having this ridiculous haircut’ Cillian chuckled.

‘Trust me, at least three of my cousins get their hair cut the same way. You won’t be noticed as the odd one out’ you laughed.

‘Great, if I put on the accent, no doubt I will blend right in, eh?’ Cillian chuckled.

‘Well, you can stay in character over the weekend if you want’ you laughed before giving him another kiss as you arrived at the car.

‘You know, I really missed you’ you said with a warm smile as you sat down in the driver seat.

‘You are driving, are you?’ Cillian smiled before telling you that he missed you also and giving you another even longer kiss than before.

‘Yikes, can you stop this’ Max said with some embarrassment. He had gotten to the age where he thought that kissing was disgusting and girls were silly.

After you both chuckled about Max’s comment, you were on your way to Birmingham.

While you were driving, Cillian exclaimed that he was nervous about meeting your parents after they were already disapproving of your relationship.

What he also didn’t know that you never mentioned to your family what he was doing for a living. Unless your grandmother told them, they might be lightly surprised. But, the topic had never come up after, every time you and your father talked about your relationship, you ended up hanging up on him when he started to argue with you.

Nonetheless, you reassured Cillian that your parents will come around once they met him and see how happy you are together.

The Moment of Truth

After an almost 2 hour drive you finally arrived at your parent’s house.

‘Hi darling, how are you?’ your mum said as she hugged both you and Max at the same time before introducing herself to Cillian.

‘You must be Cillian. It’s nice to meet you’ your mum said as she shook Cillian’s hand.

‘Likewise, Mrs Y/LN’ Cillian responded with a warm smile just as your father walked through the hallway and greeted you and Max.

‘I am Y/N’s father’ he said somewhat sternly before shaking Cillian’s hand.

‘Cillian, nice to meet you’ Cillian said politely.

‘I figured. Now come on in’ your father said as it was rather cold.

Your mother was quick to disappear with Max and you quickly instructed her to give him too many lollies before dinner.

‘He looks somewhat familiar’ your father exclaimed to you while Cillian closed the car just as your youngest brother came walking through the hallway to approach you.

He immediately noticed Cillian and looked at him with some surprise.

‘No fucking way’ Brendan said all of a sudden while his eyes widened, causing him to receive a nudge from your father.

‘Language Son’ your father said firmly, causing Cillian to chuckle before he introduced himself.

‘I know man. Me and my friends love Peaky Blinders’ your brother said before introducing himself to Cillian.

Your father looked at your brother with some confusion until it clicked and he realised that Cillian was, in fact, part of the TV show he had been watching occasionally with your brother.

Your sister soon approached you as well and greeted you with a hug. She also introduced herself to Cillian. You had spoken with her about in him on several occasions previously and there was no surprise. Nonetheless, her first question was whether Cillian could introduce her to Finn Cole, causing Cillian to laugh.

After some introductions and small talk, your father showed you to your respective rooms and it became evident to you that he had arranged for you to share a room with Max while he had allocated a separate room to Cillian.

‘Dad, that’s a joke, right? You do realise we live together?’ you asked, while Cillian remained quiet about the situation.

‘And yet you aren’t married, so you will not be staying in the same bedroom at my house’ your father said, causing you to take a deep breath.

‘We should have booked a bloody hotel, that’s ridiculous’ you said.

‘Fine by me’ your father said before walking off.

‘Y/N, it’s two nights and Max hasn’t seen his grandparents for a while. We should stay for him, yeah?’ Cillian said quietly and you nodded reluctantly. As usual, Cillian was comforting and loving despite your father’s dislike for him.

‘I am so sorry Cilly, I don’t know what his problem is’ you said.

‘It’s alright Y/N. He is just being protective of you and that’s a good thing. I am sure he will come around’ Cillian said as he took you into his arms.

‘I know. It’s just that I am 25 years old and cannot sleep in the same bedroom as my boyfriend. It’s so ridiculous’ you said somewhat upset. After all, you wanted to be with Cillian desperately, share a bed together and possibly have some intimacy.

‘I know’ Cillian chuckled before giving you a gentle kiss.

‘I cannot wait another two nights to be with you. It’s been three weeks since we slept together last and the Skype thing is really not the same’ you said suggestively as you ran your hand over his crotch hoping that no would walk through the hallway and catch you.

‘Y/N, stop. I don’t think your father would appreciate it if he saw us like this’ Cillian chuckled trying to push your hand away.

‘I tell you what, I will come to your room after everyone goes to sleep. Just for a bit’ you smirked trying to reach inside his pants, causing Cillian to get fidgety and laugh at the same time.

‘That’s a bad idea Y/N’ Cillian chuckled.

‘Why is that?’ you asked before telling Cillian that you have needs.

‘Firstly, this is your parents’ house and I do not want to disrespect their wishes. Secondly, you aren’t exactly quiet when we have sex and, thirdly, you told me on the way here that you forgot your pill the last couple of days when you stayed with your grandmother in Galway’ Cillian said.

‘Well, you will just have to pull out in time’ you winked, knowing very well that he had exceptional self-control after you found yourself in the same situation the previous months when you forgot to take it. After that, it had gotten to the point where Cillian reminded you to take it as you weren’t exactly consistent and somewhat forgetful, which also made you schedule a doctor’s appointment in two weeks to discuss other options in so far as contraception was concerned.

Just as your quick conversation with Cillian was nearing the end, your mother called out to you both to tell you that dinner was ready.

‘Coming’ you yelled out as you removed your hand from the inside of Cillian’s pants.

‘Thanks…gotta hide that now’ Cillian chuckled as he rearranged his pants so that his erection would be hidden beneath the large jumper he was wearing.

You giggled and both made your way to the dining room.

Dinner Interrogations

During dinner, your father managed to step out of line completely when he asked Cillian whether he always dated women much younger than him.

Luckily, Cillian remained polite and answered his question regardless of its inappropriateness.

‘No. In fact, I was reluctant about the age difference between us at first’ Cillian exclaimed.

‘Well, I was just asking since, with many actors, that’s the norm, dating women half their age’ your father said.

‘It is?’ Cillian asked surprised, causing you to laugh but your father didn’t appreciate the sarcasm.

The conversation soon escalated and Cillian excused himself and offered you to put Max to bed so that you can catch up with your sister and mother.

It was obvious to you that your father and Cillian didn’t see eye to eye and Cillian tried best to remain calm and keep the peace for your sake.

He joined you and your family again after putting Max to bed and, by that time, your father had received a lecture from your mother and was up to his second glass of wine. Things went much more smoothly thereafter and your parents also excused themselves at 9pm to go to bed.

Cillian went on to have a shower before giving you kiss and returning to the room that was assigned to him. He knew you would join him shortly. After all, he knew you well and he found it rather difficult to deny you especially when you were aching for him. You were a rather sexual person and demanding when it came to intimacy.

And just like this, after you had a shower and checked on Max, you sneaked into his room wearing nothing but your panties.

Cillian was lying in bed with a novel, wearing his Calvin Klein briefs and reading glasses. The beside table lamp was dimming the room nicely and his muscular chest was highlighted by the shimmering light.

‘Good Evening Professor’ you giggled as you immediately jumped on top of him. You loved when he was wearing his reading glasses.

Cillian put his book aside and pulled you close for passionate kiss before taking off his glasses.

‘I love you, you know that?’ he said quietly and you nodded in response.

‘I love you too Cillian’ you said before kissing him again passionately before lifting up your hips to take off your panties.

There wasn’t much time for foreplay and you certainly didn’t need any. After three weeks, you were desperate for him and he was desperate for you.

You quickly threw the blanket to the ground and helped him out of his briefs before pushing him backwards so that he would lie flat on the mattress.

You climbed on top of him before you kissed again, fast, desperate and passionately.

‘Don’t forget to pull out’ you smirked just before your body began to slowly lower itself onto his Cillian’s lap, the head of his cock pushing against your opening.

He was hard, harder than he had been in a while. It was obvious to you how much he simply wanted to be inside of you.

The lips of your mound were slick, covered by your juices and the precum that had pooled at the tip of his cock.

As you moved your body further down, he penetrated you without resistance, relishing the wet, soft and warm grip of your opening.

You were just as tight as he remembered and a soft growl fell from his lips. Your walls contracted around him as he entered you inch by inch. It almost felt like a vice-grip, and the fact that he didn't immediately cum right there after three weeks of abstinence was a miracle.

You also couldn't believe how good it felt, after three weeks. You needed this desperately and you no longer cared about the fact that your parents were staying in the next room.

‘Hmm, I missed this’ you moaned quietly as more and more of his cock filled you.

Finally, your shapely ass rested on his legs, the entirety of Cillian’s cock throbbing inside you.

‘I missed this too babe’ Cillian whispered as you leaned in and kissed him deeply, pressing your small perky breasts against his chest.

You raised yourself slightly before lowering yourself back onto his hard member.

Cillian kept both hands on your hips, guiding you as you rhythmically bounced on his lap.

You felt yourself getting lost in all of this and your moans soon became uncontrolled, causing Cillian to gently place his hand over your mouth for a few seconds to muffle the sounds you were making.

‘You need to be quiet’ he instructed as the feeling of him being inside of you was almost dizzying.

You tried the best you could to remain quiet, but your efforts were futile as your humping grew erratic while you nuzzled your face into Cillian’s neck.

Cillian wrapped his arms around you and started to both lift you and thrust up, taking control of your movements.

His cock was slamming into you now, the sound of your ass cheeks being clapped competing with the squeaking of the bed.

Neither of you cared any longer as you got lost in each other. Surely, your family was fast asleep by now.

‘Cillian, fuck’ you whispered in between laboured moans as you moved in sync with each other and the head of his cock hit your cervix over and over again. His length filled you perfectly and it felt as though he was all the way inside your stomach.

As you rode him for what felt like an eternity, you could soon begin to feel your orgasm approach hard and fast and, whilst you usually tried to draw it out, you didn’t that night.

You came hard and forcefully, your body shaking as you did everything in your power not to scream and moan.

As your orgasm washed over you, Cillian once again covered your mouth to stop you from screaming out involuntarily. Usually, you were loud in the bedroom, so loud that you had recently been questioned by one of the children as to whether something was wrong.

Cillian made you feel so good that you lost control and his hand muffled the screams that escaped you as your walls contracted around him, squeezing his hard cock tightly as you orgasmed.

The sound of your panting and contraction of your tight walls around his cock pushed Cillian close to the edge as well. In fact, he was dangerously close.

While you rode out your orgasm, his was approaching, fast and hard and his cock started to pulse inside you.

‘Y/N stop’ Cillian said quietly as he held still, trying to reduce the pleasure you were giving him. But, you were in a trance, still consumed by your orgasm after three weeks of abstinence, and continued to move up and down on top of him.

‘Y/N, you need to stop… Fuck’ Cillian panted in between involuntary groans as he could feel himself throbbing inside of you rapidly. He could not hold back any longer.

You finally realised what was happening when you felt his hands grip your waist, trying to move you off him and asking you to stop once again.

‘Fuck Y/N’ Cillian moaned as you quickly moved your body upwards, allowing him to pull out of you and, just in that moment, he came hard and fast.

You tried your best to quickly collect his hot and sweet seed with your mouth as you had planned. After all, this was something you enjoyed doing a lot. But, your efforts were partially futile and you would certainly have to find a way to discreetly wash the sheets tomorrow without your parents noticing. There was a lot, defiantly more than usual.

‘Close call’ you giggled after swallowing what you had collected and licking your lips suggestively before lying down next to Cillian.

‘Too fucking close Y/N’ Cillian said, still panting. ‘You won’t be going on top the next time you want me to pull out’ he said.

‘I am sorry. I just totally lost control’ you said as you curled up against Cillian’s chest.

‘I could tell. I hope your parents didn’t hear you’ he said with a slight chuckle before kissing you gently.

That night, you really wanted to stay with him, but you knew that you couldn’t and, after another few minutes of kisses and cuddles, you returned to your room quietly.

When you returned to your room you decided to change into your comfortable snoopy pyjamas which your mum had given you. They weren’t exactly sexy, but warm.

But, just as you stepped out of your black lace panties, you noticed a small amount of shimmery white liquid on the inside of them.

Hoping that it wasn’t what you thought it was, you ran your finger through your wet slit in anguish and observed a little more of it.

Perhaps the close call was too close after all.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x y/n #smut #agegap #fanfic

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dameronology · 4 years ago

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love in the time of PTA meetings {marcus moreno} - 1/5

summary: despite what pinterest shows, being in a parent in the twenty first century is hard; especially a single parent. your kid takes up your entire life and the idea of finding a fairy tale is laughable - that is until you finally attend a p.t.a meeting and cross paths with a certain marcus moreno. {series masterlist}

warnings: i do not have children. i don’t know children work. this written entirely what i have seen them do in the sims 4. also, swearing.

- jazz

Leaving work early was never a good look.

Leaving work early because your child had managed to set fire to a trash can was...well, it was something else entirely.

After rushing out of a very important meeting and parking your car in a did-you-park-it-or-crash-it manner, you were sprinting across the play ground and towards the front entrance. Having given up half way through, you’d kicked your stupidly high heels off and held them in one hand, trying to organise your slightly disheveled hair as you entered the building. Most parents might have been nervous to collect their kid after a call from the principle, but this was a regular Tuesday for you. Jack was a good kid, perhaps just a little...misguided. In your books, it was impressive that a five year old had managed to discover pyrotechnics, though you sensed the school might have been a little less lenient about it.

‘Hey!’ You greeted the principle with a smile as you breezed through the doors.

Jack was in a chair by the front desk, a gleeful look on his face when he saw you. As far as he knew or cared, he got to go home early and watch Paw Patrol for the rest of the day.

‘Afternoon.’ He replied. ‘You’re lucky it was only a phone call.’

‘I know, I know.’ You grumbled. ‘I’m sorry. He’s...adventurous-’

‘ - he singed off his class mate’s eyebrows!’ The principle cut you off. ‘Given Monday’s biting incident, I see it fit that Jack take the rest of the week off.’

‘Right.’ You sighed. ‘Thank you. And sorry again.’

‘I’ll email you a list of...behavioural specialists.’ He muttered.

‘There’s nothing wrong with my kid. He’s just...curious.’ You insisted. ‘C’mon, buddy. Let’s go home.’

Jack sprung up from the chair, taking your hand in his and skipping out the door beside you. Parenting had been hard enough when you’d been married, and even harder now that his dad was out of the picture. It meant that everything fell on your shoulders; school runs, packed lunches, earning money, staying sane. You barely found the time to sleep, let alone go to soccer matches or take him to extra curricular activities. It meant that the stay-at-home mums - the ones who drove minivans and had specified walking shoes and shared memes about parenting on Facebook - muttered about you.

I heard Jack’s mum couldn’t make it to the parent-teacher association meeting because there was a divorce hearing.

Look at the kid’s lunch! Oh the saturated fat, the horror!

What do you MEAN your five year old isn’t vegan?!

Frankly, you wanted to whack them over the head with their own damn vision boards. So what if your kid was a little rough around the edges? He’d discovered fire today! If it had been in the stone ages, that would have been impressive. The kind of thing that would have earned him a McDonald’s, had the fast food chain been around at the dawn of time. With the way things were going, paired with the fact you knew your fridge was empty, it looked like you were heading for a Happy Meal anyway.

‘So do I get all week off?’ Jack peered up at you, tugging on your arm.

‘Yup, all week.’ You sighed. ‘But it’s not a reward, okay? It’s...’

You stopped in your tracks when you saw Marcus Moreno’s car pull up in the lot. Naturally, it was expensive and electric and perfectly between the white lines. He gave your less-than-stellar parking a frown as he breezed by - not that you noticed. Frankly, you were too busy admiring him. You saw his face more on the news than you did in person, but he was beautiful. Talk, dark, handsome and mysterious, but also...friendly and approachable. He’d held the door open for you once two years ago and that had been it for you. There had been whispers about the fact he was a widow, though you’d tried not to pay attention to them. It wasn’t anyone’s damn business. You knew he was a good dad; you’d had the chance to meet Missy when Jack had got his head stuck between the playground fence and she’d helped pull him out. She was sweet and well-behaved and clearly well brought up. Could you say the same for your own kid? Eh, parenting was all trial and error.

‘It’s what?’ Your son’s voice dragged you back to reality. ‘Am in trouble?’

‘What?!’ You jumped at the question. ‘No, I just...’

‘Because Principle Eikner said I’d done something bad.’

A small sigh escaped your mouth; placing his backpack on the ground, you knelt down to his height, gently placing your hands on his shoulder. ‘You haven’t done anything wrong, little man. We're just gonna take a few days out to talk about the rules and what it means to do the right thing, okay?’

‘Dad always said not to listen to the rules.’

‘Your dad said a lot of things.’ You reminded him. You stood back up, offering your hand to him. ‘Let’s go home.’

After a few minutes of bartering and the promise of a McDonald’s, you finally made your way back to the car, now with Jack attached to your back. If giving him a piggy back ride meant getting home quicker, it was a price you were willing to pay, especially since the other mums were starting to arrive to pick up their kids. The parking lot was slowly filling up with minivans - compared to your decade-old Honda Civic. It had seen better days, and one too many run ins with other cars and parking lot bollards. Still, it got the job done.

‘Oh, I’m so glad to see you!’ You froze in your tracks again. This time, it wasn’t because of Marcus Moreno’s otherworldly presence, but rather due to the sound of the resident soccer mum.

‘Carol.’ You turned around to face her (slowly, given the five year old on your back) with a forced smile on your face. ‘Hi.’

‘I take it you’re here for the parent-teacher’s association meeting?’ She gave you a phoney grin, handing you a leaflet. ‘I know you couldn’t make the last one, because of your...d-i-v-o-r-c-e hearings.’

‘I can spell!’ Jack chirped from behind you.

‘It’s okay, buddy.’ You reached up to ruffle his hair, smile not faltering. ‘But yeah, you’re right. And what about it?’

‘Nothing.’ Carol quickly shook her head. ‘So you are coming to this one? It starts in ten minutes.’

Truth be told, you’d no idea there was even a meeting tonight. You usually ignored the damn things until the news letter came out, and then you could read it from the comfort of your sofa with a glass of wine. There was nothing you stopping going tonight, aside from your intense hatred for them.

‘I wanna get home and watch South Park!’ Jack chirped from behind you.

‘I don’t - I mean...I don’t let my five year old watch South Park.’ You said. ‘He walked in on me watching it one time and...point is, yes, I’m here for the meeting!’

‘No, you’re not-’

‘- Jack, just sssh!’

Carol blinked in surprise, but her phoney smile returned a moment later. ‘Excellent! I’ll see you inside.’

You inwardly groaned. Why had you just done that? You fucking despised sitting in a stuffy gym for the better part of an hour, listening to the perfect mums bang on about healthy eating and limiting their kids’ internet time. You already questioned your parenting skills as it was - the meetings only made it worst. You didn’t assimilate into that crowd; they were all married, with big houses out in the ‘burbs and bank accounts that could cover their kids ever-expanding interests and activities. Meanwhile, you were living on one wage and your two-bedroom apartment had a balcony, not a back garden. If Jack wanted to go on a field trip, you usually had to save up for months. You didn’t know if you envied the other mums’ lives, but you certainly weren’t jealous of how they viewed working mums and single parents.

‘That lady is mean.’ Jack murmured from your shoulders.

‘Yeah buddy, I know.’ You nodded. ‘Guess we’re going back to school.’

Lugging the kid and his bag back up the school yard and towards the building was exhausting - at least it was your work out for the week done. By the time you’d reached the gym and placed Jack back on the ground, your shoulders were aching and you were disappointed to see that the refreshments didn’t have any alcohol. Was it too late to sneak out? The fire exit was right there and-

‘- shame this thing doesn’t have any wine, huh?’ A man was stood next to you, arms folded across his chest as he stared at the luke-warm jug of coffee on the table ahead.

Tall, dark hair, stubble and with a faint hint of expensive aftershave you pretended not to notice? Hello, Marcus Moreno. Goodbye, ability to form coherent sentences.

You blinked in surprise. ‘Yeah. I could do with a glass. Or ten.’

‘So you hate these things too, huh?’ He smiled.

‘With a passion.’ You returned the gesture. ‘I’m only here because Carol and her Karen Committee kept muttering about me not being at the last one.’

‘Yeah, same here. I was attending an emergency meeting about nuclear arms in Vienna, but I guess this is more important.’

‘I was...’ in court, signing documents to end my marriage, ‘otherwise occupied too.’

Marcus nodded in understanding. ‘Kids alone are a full time job, huh? ‘Specially when you’re the only one who’s running around after them.’

He knew about your situation and in return, figured that you knew about his. He’d heard the whispers about the divorce and presumed that the loss of his wife had been subject to similar gossip. The environment amongst the parents was shockingly similar to high school and things got around pretty quickly. You both hated it, especially given the nature of both your circumstances; death and separation was not something other people should have been talking about. Especially when you all you wanted to do was mind your own business and raise your damn (chaotic) kid.

‘Yeah, tell me about it.’ You replied. ‘My kid is like...a baby crackhead, as well. He’s been sent home twice this week and it’s only Wednesday.’

‘Oh, Jack’s your kid?’

You let out a groan, holding your face in your hands. ‘Yeah. Famously so, apparently.’

‘No, it’s not a bad thing!’ Marcus chuckled, pulling your hands away. ‘He played a brilliant baby Jesus in the Nativity last year.’

‘Aside from when he bit one of the three wise men, yeah.’ You could feel your cheeks heating up. ‘Missy actually helped him once. She seems really...not at all like my child. Which is good.’

‘She told me about the fence incident.’ He nodded. ‘May I ask why he was shoving his head out of the school gates?’

‘He saw an interesting looking slug.’ You replied.

Your conversation was interrupted by Carol, who had now climbed up on stage. She tapped the microphone and cleared her throat, gesturing to everyone to sit down so that the meeting could start. You wanted to curse her. Whatever giddy conversation you were having with Marcus was a thousand times more interesting than the PTA. At least you could revel in the fact he didn’t want to be here either.

‘Shall we?’ Marcus gestured to two empty seats a few rows back.

‘I mean, it’s an aisle seat, which is good for a quick escape if Jack decides to be Jack,’ you nodded in agreement. ‘Hey kid, c’mon!’

Turning away from the other kids, Jack sprinted towards you, hurling himself into your lap as he sat down. You let out an oof! and a groan. He wasn’t as light as he used to be a toddler. He stayed still for a moment, tiny hands clasping yours, before he realised who you were sat next to. The kids’ impression of Marcus was not quite the same as yours - he’d only seen him on TV, with the likes of all the heroes. You couldn’t remember their names (but in your defence, they were kind of ridiculous).

‘Are you a superhero?’ He reached up, poking Marcus in the cheek.

‘Jack!’ You hissed. ‘You can’t-’

‘- yeah, buddy.’ Marcus ruffled his hair. ‘But it’s my day off today, so I’m doing all this boring stuff instead.’

‘Can you fly? Do you know Miracle Guy? Have you fought aliens? Do you have a super suit? Do you know Iron Man? Wait! Can I be a superhero?!’

‘No, yes, yes, no, no and maybe when you’re older.’ He counted the questions off on his fingers. ‘But for now we have to keep quiet for the meeting. That would make you a superhero.’

You wanted to marry Marcus Moreno.

Seriously, you wanted to marry him.

His little comment had kept Jack quiet the entire meeting. And it was a long fucking meeting indeed. The last time he’d shut up for that long was...probably before he learnt to talk. You loved he was full of curiosity and questions, but he didn’t always understand that there was a time and a place. At least now you knew what would shut him up.

‘How does Miracle Guy fly? Is Batman real? Are you rich? Do you know Wonder Woman? How does her lasso of truth work?’

‘Jack.’ You groaned.

You were walking out of the school now and down towards the car park. Missy was in tow, tapping away on her phone, whilst Jack trotted alongside you and Marcus. He’d been spewing questions at the poor man pretty much since the meeting had ended - and yet, he seemed happy to answer them. Excited, even. It was clear that he loved his job.

‘You gotta give Mr Moreno a break, little man.’ You said.

‘Hey, just Marcus is fine.’ He replied.

‘Hey Just Marcus, I’m dad.’ Missy chimed from beside you, not even looking up from her phone. It was...impressive, actually.

‘I already regret buying her that.’ Marcus murmured.

The two of you eventually reached your cars. The Civic was still terribly parked across two spaces - you were a good driver, you’d just been in a rush. The dents and scrapes all over the doors and bumper implied other wise but hey, we move. You had a thousand and one other things to save up before a new car. Putting down the deposit on a house - one you could actually own, maybe a little further out from the city - was your number one concern. Paying off your divorce attorney came after that.

‘It was nice to meet you properly.’ You pulled your keys out your back, tugging four empty packets of crisps and three bags of gummy worms with it.

‘I’m not done asking questions-’

‘- you gotta let Marcus go, JJ.’ You peered down at Jack. ‘Sorry. He’s a little obsessed with the Heroics, but I guess you’ve worked that one out.’

‘Can I visit your base?’ He continued, ignoring you.

Marcus knelt down to his height, a grin on his face. ‘I’ve got a free window tomorrow afternoon. You wanna come by? Your mum tells me you’re off school for the rest of the week.’

‘Really?’ You blinked in surprise. ‘I mean, I’m sure he would love that but I’m at work and he’s gotta go to my mum’s.’

Your mother also doubled up as your baby-sitter. In an ideal world, you would have been able to afford a professional, but this was very much the opposite of an ideal world. It was the real world, and you were constantly juggling a thousand things at once. Never in a million years would you have changed it but there were days when you wanted to cry. When it was 9PM and Jack suddenly chimed in that he had a science project due the next day, or when he refused to eat his dinner because his chicken nuggets weren’t shaped like dinosaurs and fed them to the dog.

Marcus looked, on the surface at least, like he had his shit together. He worked in a public facing job and he always looked put together. His car wasn’t covered in bumps and bruises and the inside probably wasn’t covered in yoghurt like yours. He seemed as though he got more than five hours sleep a night and his child was well-behaved.

‘I’m sure we can work something out.’ He said. ‘If you give me your number, I’ll give you a call.’

‘Uh, yeah! Of course.’ He’d asked for your number. No big deal.

You switched phones - naturally, his was much more high-tech than yours - and entered in your respective numbers. The whole thing made you admire Marcus even more; he didn’t have to have your tyrannical son over to his office, yet he offered to. He’d clearly seen how excited he’d gotten and it seemed like he’d found it endearing.

‘Are you okay?’ Marcus asked quietly, suddenly putting his hand on your shoulder. ‘You suddenly zoned out.’

‘Yeah, sorry.’ You rubbed your eyes. ‘I got about three hours sleep last night. I would blame it on the terrible twos but I guess it’s the...fucking awful fives?’

He quickly turned his attention to Jack, opening the car door for him. ‘You wanna hop in? I’m just gonna talk to your mom about you visiting, yeah?’

'There’s Cheetos in the centre console!’ You called after him.

Once Marcus had shut the door, he turned around to face you. There was silence for a minute, and he just kind of...stared at you. You couldn’t read his expression or quite figure it out, but he had an eyebrow quirked and a look of...concern? Sympathy?

‘I recognise that look. It’s the help! I’m suddenly a single parent to a five year old and it feels like the world is eating me alive look.’ He said. ‘It’s the exact same one I had six years ago. Missy was about Jack’s age when...when it became just me and her.’

You softly smiled. ‘It’s not been easy.’

‘You’re doing a good job, okay?’ He gave your shoulder a light squeeze. ‘And if you ever need him off your hands for a few hours, I’ll gladly give him a tour of our headquarters.’

‘Thank you. So much, for both of those things.’ Your eyes fell to the ground. ‘It’s a refreshing change from Carol and her Pinterest boards and half-assed invitations to potlucks.’

‘God, I can’t stand all that.’ Marcus chuckled.

‘I gotta get back now because I can see that Jack is about smush Cheetos over my break pedals but I’ll...’ you trailed off, forcing yourself to look at him and smile. ‘I’ll call you.’

‘I look forward to it.’

#marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno imagine #marcus moreno x you #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character headcanons

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xxdragonwriterxx · 4 years ago

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🔥You Are Human, And Damn It, You Are An Important One!🔥

A/N: Hey everyone! I’m back! It looks like my tags finally decided to sort themselves out so I wanted to (finally) post a new story! I’m still working on requests though, so don’t worry, those are coming soon! I just wanted to post this in the mean time while I edit those and test if my tags are really fixed on one of my originals so that any requested fics will actually be seen later should an error occur. Thank you so much for your continued support and patience, you guys are so amazing! I hope this makes up for my temporary hiatus! This one actually has a bit of a heavier tone to it but I think I’m finally happy with it! Thanks again for the support, and don’t be afraid to talk to me! Shoot me a message or just spew random bullshit and I’ll still respond 😂. Enjoy!

(Warning: themes of non-con & abuse. This is set in a brothel, but there’s nothing explicit, it’s just mentioned or implied. Just wanted to put it out there! Viewer discretion advised!)

🐉Song Recommendation: “The Gardener” By: Sarah Sparks 🐉

Word Count: ~7k

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It was that time of year. The time of year that Levi hated the most. The Underground Market Festival. It was the time of year in which merchants from all around would come down to the Underground City, away from the prying eyes of the Military Police, and sell anything and everything to the nobles who weren’t exactly looking for orthodox materials. The normally filthy, mostly empty streets would be filled with members of the wealthy, dripping in jewelry, cash, and lavish clothing as they paraded around the sorry excuse for a city, boasting of their wealth and privilege as they bought enough food and luxurious goods to feed three times the number of people in the Underground while sharing none of it.

The days were starting to blur together. Levi honestly couldn’t tell if it had been a day, a week, or a month as the drugs in his system continued to work just like the brothel owners wanted them to, rendering him practically inoperative and perfect for use. His head pounded, swimming with confused thoughts. His gaze was unfocused, warped, and his whole body felt suffocatingly hot despite his lack of cover, his legs shifting as his body instinctively searched for a relief he didn’t even want. But that was exactly how they wanted him.

The sound of his door being unlocked made him look up slowly, his eyes taking a few seconds to fully focus on the man standing in the entrance of his room, a wide, malicious grin on his face. Levi couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose in disgust. The man smelled of sweat and stale alcohol, and his unkempt appearance made Levi itch, even when drugged out of his mind.

“Oh, Levi…” the man cooed, making Levi shudder. “I have another customer for you.”

Even though Levi had been through this time and time again, even though he had been trapped in his filthy room since he was caught stealing from a merchant friend of the brothel owner at age twenty, even though the drugs in his system were making his body scream for what this new customer could give him, he still couldn’t help the wave of dread that washed through him, the fear. Levi didn’t fear much, having grown up on the streets of the Underground alone since he was abandoned by Kenny at the age of ten, but this? This he was scared of.

He thought back to the wretched old man that had abandoned him as a small child and wondered what he would think of him now. Would he be disgusted? Unsurprised? Angry? Not that it mattered. Levi knew he would never see him again. But even so, his brain couldn’t help itself from going down those roads, asking questions of “what if?” no matter how many times he reminded himself that it didn’t matter. He was just some bastard thug turned whore in the Underground. Nobody was going to even remember him, let alone care about who he was or who he may be in the future.

Levi was once again brought out of his daze when the pig in the doorway moved to the side, letting a noble woman saunter into the room. She had a wicked grin on her face as she approached him, ignoring the brothel owner as he slammed the door shut behind her, giving them some privacy. She was covered in glittering jewelry, and although the dress she wore was extravagant, it was very tight fitting and low cut, barely considered decent, her large breasts one breath away from spilling out over the top. Her hair was pinned up in a lavish braided style, twisting and coiling tightly, and held together with real gold pins that Levi knew must’ve cost a fortune.

“~Well, hello sexy,” the woman purred as she approached the raven-haired man.

Levi had to force himself not to grimace, even with the effect of the drugs, when she slithered her way over his thighs, her hands reaching up to cup his face. The smell of whatever custard perfume she had on was overwhelming, making his eyes water and his throat close up. Her hands felt clammy from all of the lotions and creams she had slathered over her skin to make it look shinier, making them feel like dead fish rubbing against his cheeks.

“Well? Aren’t you going to ask my name?” The woman demanded in a sickly sweet voice, making Levi close his eyes in barely suppressed agony.

“What is your name?” Levi asked in a low voice. He felt the woman preen above him at the sound of his voice, knowing she thought his deep tone was for setting the mood rather than the effect of his despair.

“My name is Lady Clarissa! What’s your name, hmmm?”

“Levi,” He said quietly.

“Oooh, Leevviiii, I like that,” Lady Clarissa practically moaned. “Say, Levi, you were quite expensive. That must mean you're really good at what you do. I can already tell that you fulfill my personal tastes in terms of appearance, so why don’t you convince me of the rest and give me a good time. Don’t make me regret spending my good money on you. Don’t make me punish you.”

Levi gritted his teeth when she ground her hips into him, trying his hardest not to fight back. He knew it would be difficult, the drugs making his movements and mental processes much slower, but at that moment, all he wanted to do was shove her off of him. Swallowing the bile in his throat, Levi reached for her as she leaned down to force her tongue into his mouth.

It was that time of year. The time of year that (Y/N) hated the most. The Underground Market Festival. It took everything in her to avoid groaning in annoyance as the people she was expected to call her friends dragged her down into the filthy Underground City for a day of “fun”. (Y/N) would much rather be back at home, reading a book in the library, or relaxing with the horses in the barn, or secretly practicing her sword fighting skills with the guards of their estate. But her father had forced her to go when her friends had shown up at the house, begging for her to come with them. He claimed she needed to get her priorities straight and actually present herself, show the honor and pride that came with being part of the (L/N) family. (Y/N) thought there was very little honor and pride in parading their wealth around like they owned the world, especially in front of people who constantly struggled to survive on a daily basis.

(Y/N) walked slowly down the worn cobblestone streets, suppressing the urge to gag at the sight of other nobles walking around, looking and acting as if they were rulers of the walls. She barely looked at anything, only stopping to occasionally buy food when she noticed the hungry children hanging around, looking for a scrap to steal. She could tell they were wary of her, but she never stopped trying, always offering them the food in some way, even if it meant leaving it in a secluded space for them to find later.

Her friends constantly tried to get her to engage, running up to her with crystal jewelry, silk clothing, and delectable foods, attempting to entice her, only to get pushed away. (Y/N) wanted no part in any of it. Even her attire spoke volumes about how little she wanted to be there. She knew that to the people of the Underground, the dress she wore would be considered something of utmost value, but when compared to the nobles around her, she looked underdressed and plain. She wore nothing more than a subtle red dress covered with a black leather jacket, paired with black combat boots and matching gloves, no jewelry to be found except for the simple white earrings she wore in her lobes.

Her father had been less than pleased with her appearance, but stopped arguing when she announced she was leaving, the lord just happy she had at least agreed to go to the festival. She knew he was disappointed in her, annoyed that she wasn’t like the other noble ladies who loved to flaunt their luxurious lifestyles and bend to the every whim of the lords around them, looking to marry early for money and power. (Y/N) wouldn’t be surprised if the entire reason her father wanted her here was so she could possibly win over the affections of a single lord milling about, one that was rich and influential. It was for that possibility alone that (Y/N) had originally thought to wear something that made her look underdressed, having to swallow the bile that rose in her throat at the prospect of catching some snobby noble’s attention.

“Yeah, her name is (Y/N)! She’s the one right over there, I think she could use a good time.”

(Y/N)’s head snapped up when she heard her name, her eyes shooting over to where her friends were standing in a group in front of a large building. All of them were looking at her, covering their faces with their hands to hide their giggles. Dread filled her to the brim when she saw the sign in front of the building, her face paling in horror.

“That one, eh? I think we can arrange something like that,” the brothel owner said, a smug smile on his lips as he stared at her, his grin only widening as her cheeks flushed a brilliant red. “Don’t worry, I’ve got one in particular that could give you a good ride. He’s expensive since he’s my most popular, but he’s worth it.”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to argue, her cheeks on fire as her brain fought to think of something, anything to get her out of this situation. She didn’t want to fuck some random stranger for no reason, but she especially didn’t want to have sex in a brothel. She found them vulgar, repulsive, and horrible. The way they treated their “workers” was appalling. Just as the words finally reached the tip of her tongue, one of the girls she had come to the festival with cut off her impending argument.

“Damn, I’m jealous! If he’s that good I’m almost tempted to take him myself. But she needs this. She hasn’t loosened up the entire time we’ve been here and I think this might help. She’ll take him.”

The greasy man smiled and wrote her name down, happily accepting the roll of cash her friend handed him before getting up, supposedly to let the man know that he had another customer on the way. (Y/N) tried to escape when she could, but her friends rushed up and caught her before she could slip into the shadows, dragging her over to the brothel and shoving her towards an open door where the brothel owner stood, a creepy smile still plastered on his face.

“Guys! I don’t want this!” (Y/N) whispered frantically as she was dragged towards her doom.

“It doesn’t matter if you want it or not, you need it!” One of her friends said with a laugh. “Besides, you’re going to have a fun time. Don’t make us regret spending that money for you!”

(Y/N) was practically thrown into the room, stumbling as she fought to catch her balance, before the door was slammed shut behind her, the loud sound of the lock being latched reverberating around the room with the finality of a death toll. Huffing in anger, (Y/N) stood and brushed herself off, smoothing out her dress and straightening back up to her full height, fighting off the panic slithering up her spine.

A low groan of pain coming from behind her made her whirl around in surprise, her eyes landing on a shorter, pale skinned man with stunning silver eyes and raven black hair. Gods he looked pathetic. She could definitely tell he was attractive, it made sense now as to why he was a popular choice, but he looked sickly, his cheeks hollowed out, dark circles under his eyes, and a muscled yet neglected body starting to wear thin from years of hunger and constant overuse. The sight made her want to be sick. How could anybody be cruel enough to force themselves onto this obviously abused man? How could anyone willingly pay money to fuck him rather than help him?

“Um, hello,” (Y/N) said quietly. “W-What’s your name?”

The man raised an eyebrow, not used to the soft, kind, almost shy way she asked for his name. The women and occasional men he dealt with most of the time were demanding, controlling, and sadistic, knowing they paid for a man they could use, and their voices usually projected that. Yet, this woman looked as if she had been forced to do this, further supported by the way she had been nearly thrown into the room by whom he assumed was her friends.

“Levi,” he said quietly, waiting for the usual routine to start, no matter how much his gut twisted in disgust at the thought.

“Hi, Levi, I’m (Y/N).”

“(Y/N)...” Levi murmured softly, training himself to memorize it despite his swimming brain, knowing she would want him to scream it out later. Whether in pain or in pleasure, he wasn’t sure yet.

“Um…” (Y/N) was about to speak, her mind scrambling for something to say when her eye caught sight of a large bruise on his neck. Her eyes widened and suddenly started scanning his entire body, her stomach roiling more and more the longer she stared. Now that she was really paying attention, (Y/N) could see painful bites, hickeys, and splotchy bruises littering his neck, jaw, chest, and thighs. Her eyes narrowed on the long, bloody scratches running down the length of his chest and back, and she noticed blooming red patches of skin all over him that were raw and aching from being slapped hard and rough over and over again.

He was wearing a loose pair of worn boxers as his only cover, and (Y/N) could only imagine what other horrors the thin cloth was hiding. Glancing down, she saw him shift uncomfortably, his boxers tented by his arousal. The sight made her growl in anger, knowing that to keep him going after he had already had so many customers for the day, a drug was being used to make him insatiable, forcing him past the point of pain and probably clouding his judgement and mental process as well. It made her want to go cut up the brothel owner and serve him to a pig.

Without thinking, (Y/N) rushed to him, reaching out to him, only to freeze when he flinched. She heard him curse at the involuntary movement, knowing it was his job to appear as unaffected and sexually appealing as possible, and it made her heart clench even harder, her hatred for this place and the people who ran it increasing tenfold.

Taking a deep breath, (Y/N) immediately slowed her movements, trying to appear as calm and unhurried as possible. Her gaze softened and glazed with unshed tears when he closed his eyes, his arms reaching out as he prepared for her to sit on his lap and have her way with him like she knew every other man and woman who used him did. Gritting her teeth against the fury she felt, she carefully slid her way across his thighs. She felt him force himself to relax under her as he leaned forward to let her kiss him.

When he felt nothing, and heard something click, Levi cracked open his eyes in curiosity, only to have them fly open all the way when he felt something cool and wet against his neck. Looking down at the woman in his arms, his lips parted in shock, watching in confused awe as she leaned back and soaked a small cloth in some water from a bottle, rinsing the fresh blood from the fabric. Looking to the side, he saw a small first aid kit by her feet, the container open to reveal a variety of medical tools inside.

(Y/N) leaned forward again, raising the towel to his neck to dab at his abrasions, washing them carefully, reverently, almost... lovingly. Levi opened and closed his mouth but no words came out as she continued to work on him, delicately cleaning his jaw and neck before carefully moving on to his chest. Was this some kind of strange ritual she always performed during sex? Did she just find him dirty and want to clean him up before putting her lips or her pussy on his skin? His mind was running a million miles a minute as she worked on him in silence, only pausing when he hissed quietly at the feeling of his gashes being washed.

(Y/N) frowned as she gently swiped the cloth along the red gouges in his skin. They were deep, most likely caused by the long, sharp nail extensions some ladies liked to wear, or the dull blade of a man with violent tendencies. It didn’t surprise her, a lot of the men and women who used people like this did have sadistic qualities, but it didn’t help to quell the now roaring fire in her blood, wanting nothing more than to fight against the injustice of this man.

“W-What are you doing?” Levi finally managed to ask.

“Cleaning your wounds.”

“Why? Is this some kind of-”

“Preparation? No. We aren’t going to do anything. I just want to help your injuries heal.”

Levi felt like his brain was full of static, like his mouth was stuffed with cotton. He wasn’t complaining, far from it, but he couldn’t get a reading on this woman. Why would she, a noble from the surface, want to help him, a hopeless whore from the Underground?

“Wha-”

“Before you ask what my intentions are, I’m just going to tell you that I didn’t even want to do this. I was forced to come to this festival because my father wants me to become more of a proper noble woman. But since I wasn’t too thrilled about having to be here, the people I came with thought I could use an opportunity to loosen up, and paid for me to do this with you in the hopes that I’d start having fun with them afterwards. But I have no intention of doing any of that. I hate how everyone in the Underground is treated like shit, and the last thing I want to do is take advantage of someone who obviously isn’t in control of his situation. I just want to help.”

Levi closed his mouth, all of his protests dying on his tongue. He still had questions, a lot of them, but he decided those could wait, her explanation making him feel surprisingly relaxed for someone who had trained himself to never take the word of a noble at face value. He had never met anyone like her. Even before he was forced to whore himself out, all he had ever known of nobles was their complete lack of humility and egotistical sense of self-importance.

It was silent for a moment, but this time, the silence was more comfortable, both of them starting to relax a little as (Y/N) continued to patch him up. Levi felt himself loosen up a bit, his muscles unwinding as his hands settled on her waist, keeping her securely balanced on his lap as she worked. Pride swirled in (Y/N)’s chest as she felt his tense muscles soften, her eyes sparkling as she started to work her way towards earning his trust.

“What’s your happiest memory?” (Y/N) asked suddenly.

Levi quirked an eyebrow in suspicion, “Why should I tell you, brat?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” (Y/N) said, shaking her head and stifling a giggle at the nickname. “I only asked because I figured we may as well talk while we do this. Not only that, I feel like you could use some happiness right now. But I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, so if you don’t want to talk to me, you don’t have to.”

Levi was silent for a minute, the cogs in his mind turning as he tried to make what he believed to be the right decision despite the fog clouding his judgement. Just as she had promised, (Y/N) waited patiently, not pressuring him to answer, or even bringing up another question. She merely sat in silence, her clear (e/c) eyes narrowed on his injuries as she worked to make him feel better.

“There was a time when I was with my friend Farlan, a few years back. We were doing a job, trying to get rid of a troublesome merchant for a client of ours when we found out the merchant had a cat. We were hiding around the corner, waiting to strike when that damn cat jumped up onto Farlan’s lap. I’m fine with cats, but that was the day we found out Farlan had some kind of allergy to them. He was trying to hold back his sneezes but finally lost control right when the merchant came around the corner, and Farlan ended up sneezing really violently in his face. That merchant got so scared he must’ve jumped at least three feet in the air, and even managed to piss himself before he took off. We still had to finish him off later, but in that moment, when Farlan was mortified and our target was running for the hills because of a cat induced sneeze, I couldn’t help but laugh a little.”

(Y/N) had paused in her work to listen to him, and couldn’t help but smile when he finished his story. Going back to work, (Y/N) didn’t ask what happened to Farlan, not wanting to drag him back down after she had finally gotten him to talk to her, about something so personal no less.

“What about you?” Levi asked.

“Hmm, I think I’d have to say when I got my horse for my birthday,” (Y/N) said. “I was never around the horses, wasn’t allowed to be in the barn because it wasn’t “proper for a lady”. But I loved them, loved seeing them on the streets when other nobles would come visit my father or when the soldiers from the Survey Corps would come back from a mission. I couldn’t stay away, so no matter how much my father tried to squash my love of them, it just wouldn’t happen. My mother eventually convinced him to let it go, and surprised me with a little chestnut filly that I named Sashay when I was about sixteen years old. Now, she’s my best friend. We’ve been through everything together, and she’s the only one who doesn’t try to force me to be something I’m not. Aside from the royal guards, I guess. They learned a long time ago to stop trying to get me to sit still and look pretty when I beat all of them in the sword fighting ring.”

Levi’s brows shot up into his hair at that, his lips parting in surprise. “You know how to sword fight?”

(Y/N) chuckled. “Yeah, not what you were expecting, huh?”

“No,” Levi said. “I’ve never heard of a noble woman who could fight, let alone with a blade. Are you any good?”

“I tend to think so, but that all depends on who I’m up against,” (Y/N) said with a cheeky smile.

For some reason, Levi couldn’t help but smile back for the first time in years. His lips felt chapped and strained from disuse, but it felt good, a light feeling flooding his chest with warmth. “You said earlier that your horse’s name is Sashay,” Levi said, suddenly changing the topic.

“Mm hm.”

“That’s weird.”

(Y/N) giggled at his bluntness, making another fluttering feeling swirl in his chest. He had never met anyone other than Farlan who saw his language as something other than rude.

“Yeah, I suppose so,” (Y/N) said. “But I named her that because she is a sassy chestnut mare. I like to imagine that if she were human, she’d be someone you wouldn’t want to mess with, someone who wouldn’t take shit from anyone, but would do so with a spicy attitude. So I named her accordingly.”

Levi huffed a laugh at her response but almost immediately regretted it when the movement of his chest caused the rough gauze at her fingertips to brush against his injuries a little harder than before, the stinging sensation making him hiss in pain.

“Sorry!” (Y/N) said, quickly retracting her hands and holding them up, waiting for him to give her the signal to continue.

“Not your fault,” Levi mumbled, motioning that it was alright for her to get back to work. “Thank you, by the way. I don’t think I said that before.”

(Y/N) shook her head. “You don’t have to thank me. I want to do this.”

Levi wanted to ask her why but remembered what she had told him at the start of this and decided to trust her word, swallowing the question and instead changing topics. “Why do you even have this? Do you always just carry a first aid kit around?”

“Only when I come to the Underground. I want to have it available for those who really need it.”

“You do know that at least half of the people down here would kill you without a second thought to get to that medicine. Or they’d kill you if they thought you were pitying them.”

“I know, but I’d like to think I can handle myself a bit more than the average person. Even so, I usually keep it hidden unless I really want or need to use it on someone, and it’s only for quick patch-ups anyway. I can’t really fix anything major.”

(Y/N) finally finished with his front and carefully slid off of his thighs, moving slowly to begin working on his back. She made sure he was okay with everything she was doing before settling herself down onto the edge of the bed behind him, her hands reaching up to start her work once more.

Levi wanted to know more about her. He felt as if he could talk to her for hours, as if he had known her for years. He wanted to know what made her laugh, what made her cry, what her vision was for the future. It was insane, so much so that Levi idly wondered if he’d fallen off the deep end. But he couldn’t deny it. She was just too intriguing, so surprisingly kind, so genuine.

What was your childhood like? What are your favorite things to do? Do you come down here often? When will I see you again?

The questions continued to rattle around in Levi’s head as they once again lapsed into a comfortable silence but he forced all of them back, not wanting to seem either too desperate to get to know her, or be seen as coming on too strong.

After debating with himself for a while, Levi finally settled on, “You’ve mentioned your father a lot, and how he doesn’t want you to be yourself.”

(Y/N) tensed a little, her face twisted in a grimace behind Levi’s back. “Yeah… he used to be better about it, but ever since my mother died, he’s been like a tyrant. He’s upset he didn’t get a son in the first place, but now that he’s stuck with me for a daughter, he’s even more disappointed that I’m not someone he can easily make profits off of by marrying me off to someone. Not only have I been adamant about not allowing it, but no nobleman wants a woman who can think for herself. A woman who can ride a horse, go toe to toe with her soldiers, has an opinion, and is knowledgeable about current conflicts. They want someone who will dress up all pretty for them and be in bed, ready to satisfy them when they get home from gambling and drinking all day while sitting on their parents’ money.”

Levi scoffed and (Y/N) huffed in agreement. “I’m just not that kind of person. Every suitor that has ever met me has run away from my casual attire and sailor’s mouth.”

“Your father wasn’t like this when your mother was alive?” Levi asked.

“He was, but he wasn’t as bad. My parents were in an arranged marriage, but they got along alright. At least my father loved my mother enough to listen to her most of the time when she told him to lay off of me. I honestly think she’s the reason why I have such a strong fighting spirit.”

“I’m sorry she’s gone,” Levi said awkwardly, not used to providing words of comfort.

“Thanks,” (Y/N) said genuinely, a warm smile gracing her beautiful features.

“I didn’t know my mother that well,” Levi said haltingly, still unsure why he felt comfortable telling her about things he hadn’t even talked to Farlan about. “She died of a disease when I was four years old. She was a prostitute, like me, so I never knew my father. When she died, I was picked up by a man named Kenny, who I thought might’ve been my father for a short while, but as I grew older, I realized he wasn’t. I don’t have any proof, I just know. When he abandoned me at ten, I was alone for a few years before I met Farlan.”

“So… you didn’t get stuck doing this because of your mother?” (Y/N) asked carefully, almost afraid to ask in case it made him shy away from her.

“No,” Levi said slowly. “I was twenty years old when I was caught stealing from a rich friend of this brothel owner. I had made a mistake and there was no way out. He figured out who I was, a thug who was known at the time for carrying out favors for people, whether that meant stealing or killing depended on how much they were willing to pay. Unfortunately, this led them to Farlan, and he gave me a choice. Me, or my best and only friend.”

“And you chose to save your friend at the expense of yourself,” (Y/N) finished for him in a hoarse whisper, filled with horror and unbridled fury at what this man had been through. She figured she should’ve been alarmed, he had just admitted that he had blood on his hands. He was a thief, a thug, a criminal, a murderer. But (Y/N) knew those things were nearly requirements for living in the Underground and no matter how she thought about it, she couldn’t think of anything that would make this man deserve what he was going through.

(Y/N) opened her mouth to say something just as she put the last bandage in place when a loud pounding on the door startled them both. “Time’s up, you two!” The brothel owner shouted through the door.

(Y/N) shot up from the bed and rushed around to where the water and first aid kit sat, quickly packing up the little box of supplies and splashing her face with water, trying to make herself look sweaty enough to look convincing. Once everything had been packed away, (Y/N) stood and shrugged off her leather jacket, throwing it to him.

“Here, take this, it’ll keep your boss from seeing the bandages and trying to get rid of them. It’ll also give your injuries a little more protection from the bacteria in this room.”

Levi wanted to refuse, tell her he couldn’t accept a gift like this, even if it was temporary, but no words would come out as he watched the beautiful woman in front of him mess up her hair and swipe her fingers across her lips, trying to make herself look as wrecked as possible. When she finally looked the part enough to seem convincing, (Y/N) made her way to the door, turning one last time before she opened it to throw him a wink and a sweet smile.

“~Goodbye Levi, I hope we can see each other again soon.”

The lilt in her voice was fake, an act for anyone who may be listening on the other side of the door, meant to be taken as a sickly promise of more sexual endeavors to come, but he could feel the genuine emotion in her statement.

“I hope so too,” Levi said quietly after she had already left, the once comforting quiet of his room now making him feel lonely and empty.

The sound of pounding on his door woke Levi abruptly, making the raven-haired man growl in anger and annoyance. It was rare that the poor man got to sleep, not only because customers could come in at almost any time, day or night, but also because of the horrible insomnia that often plagued him. It made him even more irritable to be woken up, his body sore and his mind groggy as another round of pounding roused him further and prompted him to swing his legs over the side of the small cot he was provided when not busy fucking, and make his way to the door.

“What?” Levi snapped when he swung open the door, genuinely surprised that the pig who owned him hadn’t just burst into his room like he always did, raving about yet another customer for Levi.

“Get your shit, you’re going to the surface.”

Levi blinked. This had to be some kind of joke. The brothel owner never let anyone under his foot leave the brothel, let alone the Underground. Even the highest class noble women couldn’t request for him to come to them, the old man not trusting his prostitutes to be sent back. Especially Levi.

“Oi, your ears gone to shit now? Grab your pathetic bullshit and get out of my sight,” the man snarled, his small, watery eyes narrowed on Levi like he was the scum of the world.

Shaking himself out of it, Levi didn’t hesitate for another moment, rushing back into his room to grab the pitifully few things he had with him, including the leather jacket he had gotten from (Y/N), draping it over his shoulders to hide his healing injuries just in case it was a trick. The festival was still going on afterall, this could just be some ruse the old man set up to make the experience more interesting for the men and women who paid for him.

When Levi returned, the man pulled a gun from his jacket pocket and jerked his head, signaling Levi to follow him. Levi knew better than to risk running. In his full health he could’ve easily escaped from the man’s clutches, but with little more than a half hour of rest, his injured body, weak muscles, and the remnants of the drugs still working through his system, Levi didn’t trust himself to outrun a bullet, and knew the pig wouldn’t hesitate to fire, no matter how valuable Levi was to him.

Even though Levi kept expecting the brothel owner to turn down a secluded street and lead him right into an ambush or trick of some sort, he never did, leading Levi right to the stairs exiting the Underground. When they reached the guards at the base of the stairs, the man took two slips of paper from the inner pocket of his worn brown coat and showed it to the guard. When he was cleared to continue on, the brothel owner turned and motioned for Levi to stay close as he stomped his way up the stairs, grumbling incoherently to himself all the while.

Breaching the surface, Levi brought an arm to his face, shielding his eyes from the intensity of the sun as it attacked his face with warm, bright light. He eventually got used to it, slowly lowering his arm and rushing to catch up with his boss, who was impatiently grunting for him to hurry up.

Passing through what appeared to be a busy market square, Levi followed the brothel owner along the lively cobblestone streets until they reached a quieter part of the town, stopping along the edge of a beautiful flower field, the grassy meadow filled with colorful blossoms that secretly took Levi’s breath away.

The sound of horse hooves caught his attention, and Levi looked up only to have the air fly from his lungs when (Y/N)’s bright face came into view, the stunning woman seated astride whom he assumed to be Sashay and flanked by two armed men.

“Right on time,” the brothel owner grumbled, his little pig eyes narrowing when he saw her passive aggressive smile.

“Of course I’m on time, this is my deal, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the man growled. “Are you sure you want this one? He’s my most popular, I’d hate to lose him.”

“Yes, he’s the one I want. Besides, I believe the money I’ve paid you has far exceeded the profit you have earned from having him around. I’m sure you will be able to manage.”

The man sneered at her but didn’t respond, using the muzzle of the gun to push Levi forward and digging in his pocket to fish out the same pieces of paper he had shown the guards on the stairs, handing them to (Y/N).

“Thank you, sir. I believe we are done here.”

The brothel owner slunk off, casting dark looks at her but refusing to argue as he hunkered off to head back down to the Underground, where he would continue to rot like the rat he was. Levi watched him go before turning to (Y/N), surprised by the bright smile she flashed him when he met her gaze.

“(Y/N)? What’s going on?”

(Y/N) smiled even wider and held up the pieces of paper she had been handed. One of them was the file labeling him as a slave to the brothel owner, keeping him from escaping, and the other was a bill of sale. His eyes widened when he saw her signature on the bottom of both pages, officially registering her as his new owner. He opened his mouth, about to speak when she took both pages in her hands and ripped them in half, letting the torn pages float onto the street below, forgotten, useless.

“There, you’re free now.”

Levi was at a loss for words, his mouth gaping open. “(Y/N)? What-”

“Before you ask me what my intentions are, I’m just going to tell you that I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I couldn’t stop thinking about your life, your sacrifice, your pain, and I decided I could do something about it. You are human, and damn it, you are an important one! I couldn’t just leave you there. Now, you won’t have to work for anyone but yourself. You won’t have to cater to anyone else’s needs and you can fulfill whatever dreams you have.”

“But, that must’ve cost you a fortune, to cover more than the amount of money he’s made off of using me? What about-”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Levi. I want to use my funds for good, put them towards the people who need it the most. That includes you. Especially you. I couldn’t bear the thought of you having to stay in that shit hole for even a second longer than necessary.”

“What do I do now, then?” Levi asked, trying to focus on keeping his voice steady.

“Well, you can do whatever you want now. You’re a free man, you can find a house and settle down somewhere, or you can go back to the Underground and pick up your life where you left off. You can join the military, or you can start a small business here in the square. It’s anything you want. You get to choose your life now.”

“And what if I don’t want to do any of those things?”

(Y/N) couldn’t help the smile that flashed across her face then, her heart filling with warmth. “Like I said, it’s your choice, you can do whatever you want, carve your own path, but if you want to come with me, you’re always welcome to.”

Levi’s lip twitched and he took a step forward, reaching up to pat Sashay’s muzzle as he got closer. “Alright, I’ll follow you.”

(Y/N) beamed before turning around to nod at each one of her guards, dismissing them. When they had left, presumably returning to (Y/N)’s family estate, she reached down for him, her hand extended for him to take. Placing his rough palm into her warm hand, he allowed her to help him up into the saddle behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist to keep himself secure as (Y/N) kicked Sashay into an easy canter. Sighing blissfully, Levi let himself relax, his chin coming down to rest on (Y/N)’s shoulder as they made their way home, together.

Levi had never expected to see the day when he would willingly go with a noble, but then again, he never thought he’d ever meet a noble like (Y/N). Now, as he felt her warmth soak into his chest, he knew he’d made the right decision.

Levi finally felt the remnant effects of the drugs in his system fade away as the sun beams broke through the fluffy clouds in the sky, leaving his mind clear. He was making this decision all on his own, nothing left to impair his judgement, and no matter what, he knew he would never regret the path he chose to take just so long as (Y/N) stayed by his side.

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