#but i hav decided to release it

[haomnyangz]

noodle family beatdown pt 2 operation protect the baby

[retros-artandstuff]

vriska + a transmasc dave doodle

[thegnomelord]

Shark

- 🦈

(Brainrot time! Blame dougielovelove for their new work. Had a bit of a bad day and i usually dont write spicy things

This one can be set in monster au. Readers a captain of a whole different task force meant for oceanic endevours. Im talkin the readers a shark hybird (biased) their lieutenant a whale hybird, sergent an orca or a pufferfish, their newest recurits a fuckin salmon, the works.

They're close knit, heck even poly if you want. Price and the Reader meet through connections with Laswell. They find out they hav the same target, price is stubborn and wont drop the mission, despite how most of his team is not suited for water.

Reader respects it and they work really well together. A bit too well, even to the point theyre considering merging the teams.

Completely honest, Price is starting to fall for their fellow captain. I mean how can you not, they've swooped in and saved them countless times, preventing the oceans waters from completely swallowing them in the dark abyss.

Not to mention his sergents and lieutenant are just the cutest, so eager to do well and work together with his own. Just protective instincts, hit him to the point hes pickin everyone up and scentin them. They're his hoard now.

Reader and Price are settleing paper work in his office. Readers busy writing down important information and signing off reports, but price cant help but stare. How swift his hands move as each words is made and written, how tight his claws grip the pen with every small minisucle flick of the pen.

He hiccups a small flame when their fellow captain decided to extravagantly spin his pen when he trys to recall the missing info. How smooth it moves between his blackened fingers, swirling and turning flipping all between nimble and flexible rough- and hes hard.

Reader realizes Price is distracted, before he can call out their name, he glances down just to see whats got him so wrapped up in his mind.

Now all i can think about is Reader forcing Price to focus and finish his paperwork while hes got both his assets shoved up his ass. Price is just a mess, making his paperwork a completely unusable. Yet, the reader still wants him to finish, becuase if he dosent Price definitely wont.

Or they decide to have some fun, release the pent up desire the poor dragons been keeping buried. A soilder be it 141 or be from the readers own team, walks in. Can't help but love how the stoic draconic captain looks so small and pathetic under his co-leader. Joining in on the fun just to see how wrecked this great leader can get.)

Okay, this is cool and my horny is up but I made a few changes as I like characters to be more mythological and just animal hybrids, though those are cool too

CW:NSFW, quick and rough, subbot Price, Gaz, Oc sergeant, domtop reader

Price loves you. But you are one cruel bastard.

Those big rough hands of yours trace his taught belly, webbed fingers making a shiver crawl up his spine and stealing what little thoughts are left in his head as one of your hands trails down the smooth scales of his tail. "Come on dear captain, just a few more pages to go." You purr, chest rumbling against his back like the thrum of an engine, your lips tickling his pointy earlobe.

Price swears he's going to die; pants around his ankles and legs spread, stretched so wide on both of your shafts he can feel your heartbeat by the way your cocks twitch against his walls, each labored breath making his hole clench down desperately, his own hard cocks left hard and unattended.

It would be one thing if you claimed him like he wants you to, pushed him flat on the desk and fucked into him like he's nothing but a bitch to pump full of your cum.

But you don't. You just sitting inside him, hard and throbbing and still despite how much he tries to tempt you by clenching down. Price finds himself cursing the amount of patience you have.

"Sweetheart," He groans, voice too light and whiny for his own ears, head thrown back to give you a heatless glare. "C'mon, don't tease me." Price tries to grind his hips down but you hold him firm.

"Not until you finish those reports." You grunt, authoritative, and Price is stuck between wanting to bite you in revenge and trying to stifle a pathetic whine. "Go on, you only have a few pages left."

Those damn reports. Price can barely read his own handwriting, a light tremor in his fingers from the way your cocks press against his prostate. "Cruel bastard." He growls, sucking in a breath and clenching around you.

His chest flares with pride the second your claws dig into his body, not even your mind able to hold back the animalistic need to buck into the tight willing heat surrounding you. But it's a double edged sword — a hiccup of flame sparks from his mouth, your cockheads bumping his prostate and making a bead of precum spurt from his cocks.

"As if you're any better." You growl in his ear, your hair tickling his skin as you roughly nip at his though hide, pleasure and pain loosing their borders in his mind.

He doesn't notice the nicking on the door, but Price is ready for hell to swallow up when he finally registers the door open, his blue eyes rising to meet Sullivan — your hippocampus sergeant — who looks just as mortified to walk in on you like that as Price.

Sullivan's dark horse ears flicker back, the iridescent scales along his cheeks turning from ocean green to a vibrant embarrassed pink, "I- is this, this a- I can leave if, if, if- this looks like a-" The poor man stumbles over his words, eyes bouncing between Price's debauched form and your amused face.

It gets worse when Gaz pokes his head in behind Sullivan, "Hey captains are you-" His jaw falls, pupils dilating like he's a crow that just saw a shinny penny. "-oh."

You just chuckle, rough voice putting Sullivan at ease. "At ease boys," You snort, don't even attempt to hide anything, one hand sliding down to stroke his cock, so slick with his precum that his shaft slides through your hand just from you squeezing it. "Need something boys?"

Even from here Price can see the way Sullivan's eyes darken as well at the deep moan that tumbles out of Price's throat and Price has to bite his lip to keep the noises in check.

"I-" Sullivan sucks in a breath, scales slowly turning to the shade of an overcooked lobster. "I. . . I forgot."

"Can we join?" Gaz asks, chuckling at Sullivan's wide-eyed look. "What? As you weren't thinking it." He shrugs and places a kiss on his cheek when Sully nods meekly.

"I don't know." You hum, letting go of Price's cock to tilt his head to you, meeting his eyes. "Do you want your boys to help you keep focused?"

Price swallows, knows that all that awaits him should he accept would be pleasurable torture, but his bones burn with the need to have his hoard close to him, taking care of him for a change. "Yeah," He growls, less whiny and more demanding.

You hum and roll the chair back to create space for the two men beneath the table, "On your knees." You don't miss the way the authority in your voice makes both men shiver.

"You heard him," Gaz grins and pulls Sullivan towards you two by the hand, reminding you more of a puppy than any harpy as he happily gets on his knees.

Your gaze skirts to Sullivan as he tentatively settles on Gaz's right, pitch black eyes hidden behind that fringe you keep telling him to cut. "You alright with this Sully?" You ask, knowing the man's sexual experience is limited to one girlfriend and your team, and even then he's shy about many acts. "You don't need to do something you're unsure about. No one is going to be mad."

"I, yes. I want this." He swallows, looking back at you. "I, uh. . . I got some pointers." He says shily.

Gaz just snickers and throws his arm over Sullivan's shoulder. "I helped," He says proudly, wing spreading out to wrap around Sully's back.

"Rubbing off on my sergeant already huh?" You snort, your attention turning to Price when he growls, capturing his lips in a kiss to placate his demanding draconic side while your hand lets go of his cocks — an open offering to the two sergeants.

"Only in a good way." Gaz grins and leans in, opening his mouth and pink little tongue lolling out to lick at one leaking cock like he knows Price likes, lips wrapping around the tapered head and sucking on it, amusement bubbling in his chest when you hold Price's hips firm so he can't buck up.

Sullivan follows suit, less confident but still willing, holding the other cock in his smooth scalled hand and tentatively giving the crown a kiss, dark eyes watching both of your reactions as he slowly trails kisses around the cumhole, growing bolder with every small whimper until he's gently suckling on the tip like Gaz had done.

"You're doing good Sully," You praise, even your voice is hoarse from the way Price squeezes down on you now that the two sergeants are servicing his cocks. "You too Gaz." You reach down to gently pet his hair so Kyle doesn't feel left out, "Both of you, so good for me and Price."

Price, for his sake, may as well be a mindless animal from the way his brain is steadily melting out of his cocks like a lit candle, moaning low in his throat, his eyes closed to just feel the pleasure that's assaulting him on both ends. He can tell the difference between Gaz's and Sullivan's mouths, the duality of firm swipes of the tongue across his shaft and the kitten licks on his most sensitive parts making his head swim, hips trying uselessly to fuck into the hot mouths and your own cocks.

He whines when you grip his hips firmly. "No," You snort, both arms keeping his hips still so he can do nothing but endure. "You're not getting off until the job's finished."

Price shivers, "Bastard." He growls weakly, his eyesight blurry as he tries to focus on the document.

"Pot, kettle." You grin against his skin, helping guide his arm towards the documents where he left off. "C'mon, it's just a few pages, then your sergeants will be able to reward you fully."

[thexfridax]

D.E.B.S. at 20: a Queer Cult Classic

Bessie Yuill Photo: Sundance/WireImage

There is a secret film hidden within the shadowy sapphic corners of Letterboxd. Some call it escapist trash, some call it an underrated cult classic, fools call it a male fantasy. It calls itself D.E.B.S. As other early-2000s chick flicks like Charlie’s Angels and St. Trinian’s have been reevaluated and embraced for their candy-floss aesthetics and campy wit over the years, the lesbian community was quietly reclaiming its own equivalent with 2004’s D.E.B.S.

The precursor to contemporary high-concept lesbian films like Bottoms, the spy flick is filled with something that queer female moviegoers still often yearn for: fun. That includes Jordana Brewster and her era-defying eyebrows as the impeccably named supervillain Lucy Diamond, John Woo–style fight scenes that parody the action genre in the same way as Charlie’s Angels, and a cheerfully cheap aesthetic where spies run around in plaid schoolgirl skirts.

D.E.B.S. was written, directed, and edited by filmmaker Angela Robinson. While “unapologetically queer” might be an overused phrase, it does apply neatly to Robinson. The Chicago-born director’s first project was a short film called Chickula: Teenage Vampire, calling on the long history of vampiric queer women that began with 1872’s Carmilla.

Her love of playing with genre led her to later put a lesbian spin on the movie musical by writing the underappreciated Girltrash: All Night Long and exploring polyamory in a period biopic about the creators of Wonder Woman, Professor Marston and the Wonder Women. On the small screen, she also burnished her lesbian credentials by working on several episodes of The L Word.

When D.E.B.S. started life as a short film, Robinson described it as “a story about a trio of superspies who are all chicks. I love all the comic-book characters: Charlie’s Angels, Batman, Josie & the Pussycats … But I always wanted them to be gay and they never were, so I wrote my own.” Success at Sundance led to Sony snatching the short up and deciding that D.E.B.S. should be a full-length feature.

Two decades later, the joy of this movie lies in the details. The tone is immediately set by a gravelly voice-over telling us that there is a secret test hidden within the SAT to recruit young female superspies (and establishing that, like Bottoms, this is a film aware of genre archetypes and willing to push believability). Our main character Amy (Sara Foster) is an academic overachiever — like many lesbians overcompensating for their perceived failure to live up to social norms. Her perfect score on the secret SAT test makes it even more scandalous when she falls for the aforementioned supervillain Lucy Diamond.

Queer friend groups may delight over the nostalgic frosty eye shadow and lip gloss worn by the D.E.B.S. (which stands for “discipline, energy, beauty, strength,” naturally) at all times. Flip phones, CGI holographic screens, and Goldfrapp’s appearance on the soundtrack will also remind you that you’re watching a film made in the early 2000s. And many will squeal when they spot Holland Taylor, over a decade before she came out, as the academy’s head.

Admittedly, the special effects are goofy enough to cross over into comedy, especially when our girls are abseiling into a restaurant or climbing walls with plungers, and the lighting could be charitably described as resembling teen soap operas of that era. But the chemistry between Amy and Lucy is crackling enough that YouTube compilations of their scenes have racked up hundreds of thousands of views online. Their fun enemies-to-lovers plotline begins with the pair pointing guns at each other and quickly progresses to a whirlwind romance (the other D.E.B.S. think Amy’s been kidnapped and launch a national manhunt, just as many friend groups have had to organize rescue missions for lesbians on weeklong first dates).

You could argue that espionage serves as a metaphor for the closet and that Amy is such an effective spy because she’s used to lying to herself about her sexuality. But that almost seems like too much weight to put on this meringue confection of a genre spoof: Its campiness liberates the characters to inhabit a fun, exaggerated universe with no serious homophobia or consequences. Guns are used, but the so-called superspies have such consistently terrible aim that there are no real casualties. And Lucy Diamond’s supposedly nefarious crimes are all reversible — the murders pinned on her are revealed to be misunderstandings, and she returns all of her stolen goods in order to win Amy back.

When this live-action Totally Spies with a lesbian twist debuted, it only made $97,000 and was dismissed by critics. But there were enough moviegoing gays impressed by its snappy dialogue, fun romance, and stunning supporting cast (including Meagan Good, Jimmi Simpson, and Devon Aoki with a French accent) for its reputation to grow online over time. In forums and YouTube comment sections, young girls were asking, “Are there any lesbian films where they just fall in love and have fun and don’t die at the end?” Their answer was D.E.B.S.

[satoruin]

➣ not-so-secret late night rendezvous

pairing: malleus draconia x gn!mc

word count: 3K

summary: while the vdc group stays over at ramshackle, they notice you have a frequent visitor

notes from lee: i’m rusty with long pieces so i hope this is okay ish? takes place during book 5 when the vdc group is staying at the ramshackle dorm but i haven’t read book 5 since it released so it’s not entirely canon compliant… also way more ace-centric than i realized oops i love adeuce

You had abandoned the hope of falling asleep easily once Crowely oh-so graciously allowed the newly formed VDC group to take up temporary residence in Ramshackle. When either or both Ace and Deuce stayed over you could deal with their moderate snores, however, snoring amplified by the seven extra people staying in your dorm was disrupting to say the least.

Despite all the boys being the next room over, the snoring seeps through the rotting wood floors and poorly constructed walls.

In hopes of trying to tire yourself out, you decide on a midnight stroll. Something that has been a recurring event even before your visitors. And maybe you have an inkling of hope that there will be another visitor when you get outside.

You feel the need to be quiet and sneak out, hopeful to not incur the wrath of Vil despite you being the dorm leader of Ramshackle. The window in your room has provided many nights of escapes, but it still takes an effort to push it open enough for you to get out. It only takes a few steps across the patchy roof before reaching the fire ladder. When your feet hit the ground you can already see the green fireflies that swarm the area and it instantly puts a smile on your face.

If the others within the dorm were not up earlier from the scolding Vil had given them, they were more than awake at the footsteps on the roof. Of course, it could have been passed off as the ghosts, but the creak of the rusty ladder gives you away to those inside the house. A quick check into your bedroom proves that it’s you out of the dorm and not one of the VDC members. Vil is largely unconcerned, you are just a manager after all not a performing member, that is until Trappola calls out from the bottom floor.

“Oi! What’s Malleus Draconia doing outside?” Now this peaks Vil and the others upstairs’ interest. Already pressed to the glass window in the seating room are Ace and Deuce, the others join shortly.

“What is this fuss about Draconia being outside?” VIl questions and the redhead shivers at the tone of voice he uses. Instead of answering anything, Ace points outside to where you stand animatedly talking to the prince of Briar Valley. Everyone just now coming to witness the scene outside the window reacts similarly, shock. All inside the house knew of Draconia’s reputation, but there you were chatting away with him like an old friend.

Despite the seemingly friendly conversation between you and the fae, the way Malleus looked fondly down at you did not escape the watchful eyes of the Rook, “Quelle beauté! The love between the Roi des Dragons and the Trickster is blooming right before our eyes!”

The three first-years mashed into the glass pane let out a simultaneous groan. “How come the Prefect didn’t tell us they got into a relationship!” “Bleh who even wants to be in a relationship?” And similar remarks left the boys’ mouth, but soon quieted when they watched as you started back towards the dorm. Their blabbing had cost all of the bystanders to lose track of Malleus who had seemingly left.

“Back to the room. Not a word of this to the Prefect. It is up to them to tell us about their relationship, not your incessant meddling.” Vil sternly ordered and the boys trudged up the creaking stairs before you came back.

Despite what Vil may have told Ace and Deuce about not meddling, you were their friend! If anyone would be allowed to meddle it would be your best friends, no? At least that’s what Ace had convinced himself of and later Deuce despite his reluctance.

They have a momentary break in the grueling practice and that’s when Ace decides to pry. You sit near the sweaty boys and offer up bottles of water, but it feels mostly like moral support. “So Prefect, you’ve been here for quite a while now, so’s there someone you're crushing on?” Ace asks, trying to be nonchalant.

“Is this some roundabout way for me to ask you if there’s someone you like?” You laugh at the red-head when he turns as red as his hair in embarrassment. “I take that as a yes?”

“No!” He waves his hands and you laugh at him again. “What’s wrong with your best friends wanting to know something like that?” Ace nudged Deuce, making him the accomplice to this encounter.

Before Deuce can protest, the two of them are yanked up by their collars. “If the two of you have energy to move your mouths, I’m sure you have the energy to continue practice.”

You laugh at Ace once again and shout a wish of good luck at him and the innocent Deuce.

After the catastrophic failure of the afternoon, Ace decides to take a different route: asking Grim. Once again he makes an assumption that if anyone would know about your relationship it would be your friend (though Ace is unsure if Grim counts as a friend or a pet).

The cat-like creature seems to be asleep at the moment, but Ace’s curiosity is strong enough to be the one killed by the cat. He pokes Grim and he yawns. “Whatcha want that you needed ta wake the Great Grim up?”

“You know the Prefect better than anyone right?” Ace asked tentatively.

Grim rolls over, trying to get comfortable once again before answering, “Just ask my henchman yourself, there’s no need to bother me.”

Ace rolls his eyes but presses on, “Well if it’s your henchman you should know if something in their personal life would affect them serving you, yeah?”

Grim rolls over to face Ace once again, “What could they be doin except being my henchman?”

“Oh well, I heard something about them dating Malleus Draconia, but if it hasn’t been affecting anything then it’s probably not worth talking about.” Ace shrugs, but he knows that Grim is interested in helping him now. At least he thought so, but Grim fails to respond and Ace is met with soft snores.

Ace groans, yet another plan of his: failed.

You crawl into bed, hopeful that maybe tonight you can rest. Grim follows suit and snuggles up next to you. He talks to you about the homework and other classes from the day and it’s not unusual. After a period of silence, “You won’t stop being my henchmen, right?”

You ruffle the fur on Grims head and laugh softly, “What gave you that idea? We’re two halves of a whole, literally.”

Grim exclaims and moves away from the hand that pets him, “I knew you would never leave such a great mage such as myself! Ace told me about some dragon and I didn’t want you to think that you were able to have a new master.” He returns to your side and curls up next to you to fall asleep and says nothing, leaving you confused but you brush it off.

Even though Vil had scolded Ace about staying up not long ago, he still dragged himself and Deuce down to the window where they watched you and Malleus meet. It’s been maybe a week since they last saw your rendezvous with the fae, but Ace is determined to make sure it was really.

Deuce yawns from behind him, “Maybe they aren’t in a relationship? It’s ok for them to just be friends…” Deuce’s head clanks against the window as he tries to go back to sleep.

“But the Prefect always wakes up happier when they’ve seen Draconia the night before! And don’t you remember the first night when Rook was here and he said somethin’ about the two being in love?!”

“It’s not that big of a deal is it? Just let the prefect tell us if or when they want. You’re so obsessed over this like you’re in love with the Prefect or something.” The sleepy boy mutters, but Ace picks up on it.

He laughs haughtily, “Like I would be in love with a pathetic person with no magic.” His tone quickly softens as he voices his real concerns, “I just worry about them ya know? Draconia is a scary dude and I wouldn’t want the Prefect to get hurt. Not because I care about them or anything, but because then I wouldn’t have a place to stay when Riddle kicks me out.”

Ace looks out the window for any signs of you but the field in front of the house is empty. He sighs and drags Deuce up the stairs with him.

Green fireflies fill your gaze and your hairs stand on edge at the powerful magic in the air. Despite the odd feeling you can’t help but smile when Tsunotaro appears.

With the VDC competition just around the corner, Vil had given you tickets but as you would be on the side stage you had no use for them. And the only person, well fae, you could think to give them to was Tsunotaro.

“Child of Man, it is always a delight to see you.” He cups your cheek gently.

Despite feeling a little flustered, you continue with what you wanted to say and fish the tickets out of your pocket, unintentionally breaking his hand off. “Vil gave me tickets for the VDC but I don’t have any use for them so I thought I would give them to you! I won’t be the one on stage but I’d still really appreciate it if you came to watch what I helped put together.” You flash a lopsided grin at the fae and hold out the ticket to him.

His eyes widened in shock. “You wish to invite me to this?” You nod earnestly and he laughs. “Perhaps it is because you are not of this world, but you are certainly naive, little one. Very well, but I will need to find an adequate way to pay you back.”

“Oh! That’s not necessary!” You’re about to ramble but Tsunotaro interrupts you with a kiss on the forehead.

“I will have to teach you the rules of the fae soon, Child of Man. But for now, let us go observe the gargoyle on the south grounds together.” He tucks the ticket into his pocket carefully and holds his hand out to you. You take it and he intertwines your fingers easily.

The night before the VDC it seems no one is able to sleep. Crowded around the window are all seven members of the squad, watching as you converse, yet again, with Malleus.

Watching the two of you has become somewhat of a pastime in the time the group has spent in Ramshackle.

But all of them are growing increasingly frustrated at the way both of you seem to skirt around your feelings. Of course, they have no way of knowing what is actually going on as they can’t hear you, but your body language is enough. Plus all the times you’ve woken up and come into practice with a silly lovesick smile is pretty telling.

“He’s standin’ so close to them! Can he just bend over and kiss ‘em?” “It’s absolutely nauseating seeing Draconia like this, doe-eyed for our Manager.” “Do you think the Prefect invited him to the competition tomorrow?”

The boys quiet at the mention of the competition. The whole reason for coming down to peek into your rendezvous with Malleus was to distract themselves from the impending nerves.

Vil is the one to break the anxiety ridden air and ushers all of them up to the room and in good timing too. The door creaks as you come back inside the dorm. Everyone in the dorm is plagued with emotions, good or bad, that make it seemingly impossible to fall asleep.

The day of the VDC comes and everything goes awry at Vil’s overblot. Though it is not your first overblot, being magic-less during it really takes a toll on you. You hate being useless during these times, there’s nothing you can do besides offer moral support, de-escalating the situation after, and a shoulder to cry on.

The adrenaline fades away and the boys collapse on the broken stage. Their heaving breaths are audible and their body language tells you of their exhaustion. You’re not exactly sure what to do, but the presence of powerful yet familiar magic washes over you.

You whip your head around to see the horned fae and you want to run up to him, but you’re just as tired as everyone else plus a little lightheaded from the poisonous air. Instead you simply call out to him, “Tsunotaro! What’re you doing here so early?”

It’s as if everyone sitting in the rubble has regained energy as they all repeat your pet name for the fae, but much louder. Though it’s not a shock that you know him, they’ve all witnessed your late night trysts, but for you to call him ‘Tsunotaro’ instead of something more respectable is… surprising.

Grim’s eyes light up with recognition at the nickname. “This is the ‘Tsunotaro’ ya were fawnin’ over? The nickname makes sense since he does have those horns growin’ out of his head but…” Grim trails off and you’re thankful he shut up. You didn’t need Tsunotaro to hear about your crush on him.

Thankfully he’s grabbed by Deuce so you don’t have to shut the cat up yourself. “Grim, you need to respect your elders,” Deuce scolds through a forced smile.

“It seems I’ve arrived a bit early. Though I’m unaware of how you all expect to perform on a ruined stage.” His tone is a bit teasing and it’s groundbreaking for all that have regarded Malleus as scary. And for those that have interacted with him, it’s weird to hear him talk so tenderly.

“Oh, well you see… there was kind of an overblot.” You smile at him, as if the overblot was not a traumatic experience you and the others barely survived.

Malleus’s eyes widen, “I did not sense an abnormality of magic, nor did anyone else for that matter. I’m pleased to see that you are all okay though.”

He looks around the stadium to assess the damage. “I suppose this counts as my payback for your invite, little one.” He pats your head gently and smiles down at you. The overwhelming sense of power washes over you and sparks seem to fly out of Malleus’s hand. In an instant the previously damaged stage is restored.

“Woah,” you breathe out softly. You look at him with stars in your eyes. You’re still unaccustomed to such flashy magic or really magic at all. The others behind you, while admiring Draconia’s handiwork, are completely astonished, and maybe a little frightened, by the enormous gap in skill.

“Please, such magic is child’s play for a mage of my caliber.” He responds to your praise. Coming from anyone else it would sound arrogant, but as one of the top mages in all of Twisted Wonderland, it was deserved. “I’ll return when the competition draws closer. I expect to be enthralled by your performance, after all it is due to the effort of Schoenheit you have gotten this far.”

The fae walks over to you where you sit and crouches down. He reaches his hand out towards your face but stops just short, hovering and hesitating. Malleus resigns and ends up dropping his hand back to his side all together. You don’t voice your disappointment, but the others do.

There’s a collective groan that’s quick to catch the attention of both you and Malleus. Ace is a myriad of stupid, hence he is the one to speak up out of all the members, “Great Sevens! Are ya shy? The Prefect clearly wants you to kiss them and everyone can tell you want that too so just do it! We watch the two of you meet up practically every night and every single night you chicken out.” Ace sighs, but quickly realizes. “Uh, I mean this in the most respectful way, Mr. Draconia, sir, highness?”

You’re embarrassed, was it really so easy to read your disappointment? But more importantly, “What do you mean by ‘we’? Are you telling me everyone that’s stayed in the dorm has watched me and Tsunotaro hangout?”

You look at them expectantly and see them nod. Jamil scoffs though, “You call that a hangout? It’s without a doubt a date.”

“I didn’t want to assume…” you trail off. You turn your head to look at anywhere but Malleus, embarrassed and a little flustered. It seems like the universe is intent on letting the prince know exactly how you feel.

The boy in question places a hand on your knee to turn your attention to him. “Were you not aware that I am courting you? I thought I made it fairly obvious.” He seems confused but his words have that teasing lilt that seems to become apparent when talking to you.

“Courting is like dating right?” You ask, cocking your head to the side. You hear another collective groan, but it seems Malleus is as clueless as you are.

“Is that what they call it these days?” The fae mirrors your expression. Perhaps this is why the two of you seem to be perfect for each other.

“Please talk about your relationship status later. We need the Prefect for rehearsals.” Vil tells his classmate impatiently. Though he is quite pleased with the events that have unfolded, nights spent at the window watching you two was not a waste after all.

Malleus kisses you swiftly, having made up his mind due to the words from the others. It takes all you have not to grab him by the lapels and keep his lips glued to your own. But having your first kiss with Malleus in front of your friends is enough to remind you to practice self-restraint.

He smiles at you softly, “I will see you later, darling.” He swipes at his uniform, ridding it of any debris and takes his leave after giving you a quick peck. You stare after Malleus longingly before Vil claps his hands.

“As lovely as that was, we have a championship to win.” 

[redrose10]

I’m still working on the next chapter of The Interlude Inn. Things have been crazy lately and I’m sorry it’s taking so long, but thank you for staying with me. In the mean time here’s just something small I had stuck as an idea for a while and wanted to put out there.

Warnings: Angst, Lots of Crying, Breakups, Arguments, eventual fluff

Summary: Who knew that some old yarn and a knitted beanie would be what helps to mend yours and Yoongi’s broken hearts.

Word Count: 2,703

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You stood back against the door with your arms crossed. “Seriously Yoongi, don’t you have anything to say?”

You glared at your boyfriend, well now ex-boyfriend, as he removed his headphones once again.

“What do you want me to say Y/N? You’re unhappy in this relationship and you want to end it so go. I’m not going to get on my hands and knees and beg you to stay.”

You rolled your eyes almost involuntarily. He was kind of right. You were the one that showed up at his studio unannounced and broke up with him out of nowhere, but it was mostly his fault that you got to this point.

After three years together you were just tired of feeling alone and unappreciated. His work was always put before you and your relationship and you were done with it.

“This is what I’m talking about Yoongi. You don’t care at all that I’m walking out. I guess the last three years were a waste of time since I mean nothing to you.”

Yoongi hastily spun his chair around and put his headphones back on before you could see his tears begin to fall. Scoffing you grabbed your jacket and purse and stormed out letting the door slam behind you before you finally released your own river of tears.

It had been almost six months since you and Yoongi broke up and neither of you had made any effort to contact one another. Jin ended up being the mediator brining you a box of your stuff from Yoongi’s and you gave him a box to take back to him as well. The last reminisce of the relationship you once had with each other.

Even though it had been six months the pain still hurt more than any other breakup you’d ever encountered. You really felt that he was the one you’d spend the rest of your life with and now that it wasn’t happening you were having a hard time coping with that. Jin claimed that Yoongi was struggling too. He wasn’t eating, stopped working on music for a while until the company got on his case, and Jimin claims to have seen him crying in his car while parked at the company building several times.

Yoongi seemed to be doing just fine in your eyes though. Always smiling and laughing in interviews and performances. Rumors even circulated about him dating a fellow idol and you had to admit the pictures looked pretty convincing. As much as you tried to tell yourself that he had every right to move on it still hurt.

It finally passed the busy season at work so you decided to treat yourself with a week off. Nothing fancy. You just wanted some time where you could shut off your alarm clock, maybe do a deep clean of your apartment, and eat as much greasy terrible for you, but tasty food as you wanted. The first morning of your vacation you heard your phone ringing from its place on the night stand next to you. You had made it absolutely clear to your boss to not contact you for any reason whatsoever so you knew it wasn’t work. Your friends would get the hint after a call or two that were missed, but whomever was calling was persistent. You stayed still trying to just ignore it, but after the eighth missed call you decided to roll out of bed and check to make sure nothing bad had happened.

To your surprise you found fifteen missed calls all from Namjoon and Jin. They hardly ever called you even when you and Yoongi were together so you were confused as to what was going on. Suddenly you got a notification for a voicemail and you clicked play,

“Hey Y/N, this is Namjoon. I’m really sorry to bother you right now. I know it’s still pretty early, but we’re having a bit of a situation. Something is wrong with Yoongi. We’re not sure what’s going on, but if you could give me a call back I’d really appreciate it. Thanks, Bye.”

You tossed the phone on your bed before plopping down. Namjoon’s voicemail repeating in your head. By now they all definitely knew what had happened between you two so it kind of irked you that they would call you of all people for help. Yoongi or anything Yoongi related was no longer your problem. You had every intention to just ignore it, but then in the back of your mind you started to worry. There will always be a part of you that will love and care for Yoongi and you couldn’t stand the thought of something happening to him because you wanted to make a point.

Grabbing your phone you quickly dialed Namjoon’s number and he answered on the second ring.

“Hi Y/N, thank you for calling me back. I really am sorry to wake you.”

“No it’s okay Joon. What’s going on?”

He let out a deep sigh, “Well we’re not 100% sure. We just got back today and Yoongi started flipping out. He tore through his suitcase. He made the stylist give him access to our wardrobes and he went through those too. It took Jimin and Hoseok two hours to help them put everything back together. He’s made a bunch of phone calls and now he’s just sitting in the corner of the room sobbing and mumbling something about a hat. We were hoping you’d know what was going on with him.”

You bit your lip trying to recall anything about a hat, “No I’m sorry Namjoon. I have no idea what it could be.”

“Well I was afraid of that. We’re supposed to leave to go to an interview in like fifteen minutes and I have no idea how we’re gonna get him to cooperate. He’s just completely inconsolable.”

You were really hoping you weren’t going to regret this but you took a deep breath and continued, “Would you like me to talk to him? Maybe I could get it out of him.”

“Oh my Yes! Thank you so much Y/N.”

After a few seconds and some distant mumbling you heard a few loud sniffles in the phone followed by the softest “hello” you’d ever heard.

“Yoongi what’s going on? Why are you so upset right now?”

It was like your voice set him off again and you could hear the sobs coming from deep within his chest followed by words you couldn’t make out.

“Yoongi calm down please. I can’t understand what you’re saying. Take a few breaths. Remember how we used to do it.

1…

2…

3…

4…

5…

Do we need to take a few more?

1…

2…

3…

Okay now tell me what’s going on so I can try to help.”

A few moments went by and you were starting to think you’d never find out what happened, but then he cleared his throat,

“M-my beanie. The b-blue one. I lost it.”

Trying to think back to what hat he was talking about you continued, “Yoongi what beanie?”

“The soft blue one. I lost it somewhere. I can’t find it.”

“Yoongi it’s okay. You can get another one easily. I’m sure you could even order it online and have it delivered within a day or two.”

“N-no you don’t understand. You made that hat for me and it’s the last thing I had left from you. I’ll never have one like that again.”

It sounded like his crying was picking up again and that’s when it hit you.

Years ago you were hanging out at the dorm when Taehyung came walking by with some yarn he had used for a crafting thing he did with his siblings and not wanting the yarn to go to waste you took it and knit Yoongi a beanie. It was a blue color and very soft and fuzzy. That same night you gave it to him he asked you to be his girlfriend. You didn’t even know that he still had it.

Your heart did break at the sound of how upset he was getting over this. You had no idea how much that meant to him.

“Hey Yoongi it’s okay. Just breathe alright. I’ll make you a new hat. It’ll even be the same color and everything. I can have it done by tomorrow morning.” You really didn’t m feel like having to spend your day off knitting a new hat for your ex, but if that’s what got him to cooperate and get to the interview then you’d do it to help out the other members.

There was some silence followed my more sniffles, “I appreciate that Y/N, but it’s not the same. I don’t want a new hat. It won’t have the same memories with it.”

“Listen Yoongi, I know you have to get to an interview soon because you still have a job to do. The rest of the group is counting on you. Why don’t you go ahead and get that done and then we can try and fix this. Does that sound okay?”

You felt like you were tying to compromise with a toddler, but knowing he was this upset over something of yours did pull at your heart strings a little.

He didn’t say anything, but you could still hear his cries and what sounded like Jimin in the background trying to console him. Not long after Namjoon came back on the line, “So it sounds like you’ve figured it out?”

You chuckled, “Yeah kind of. It was this beanie that I had knit for him years ago. I guess he lost it while you guys were on tour.”

“Oh yeah that blue one right? He hasn’t let it out of his sight since he packed up your stuff for Jin to drop off. Hoseok swears he cuddles with it in his sleep. I’m surprised he lost it.”

That information felt like a stab to the heart. Maybe the breakup did really hurt him.

“I’m gonna try and fix this. I think I’ve convinced him to go to the interview so hopefully you guys can get done what you need and I’ll be in contact later.”

After traveling to four different craft store and six hours later you had knit an exact replica of the hat. Somehow you managed to find the same yarn in the same color and you were quite happy with your work. Your plan was to just tell Yoongi that one of the stylist found the lost beanie tucked away in a random suitcase somewhere after you had asked to take a look. You figured what Yoongi didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Standing outside Yoongi’s studio you felt a million different emotions. The last time you were there still burned into your brain. After a quick few knocks the door swung open and the sight taking your breath away. He looked terrible. Definitely slimmer and paler which you weren’t sure how that even happened. His skin was red and raw from the crying. His eyes widened when he realized it was you standing there.

“Here, one of the stylists found the hat in a suitcase.”, you managed to get out pushing the blue beanie to him.

Gently he took it from your grasp. As he looked it over you noticed the slight tremble to his hands. When he finally looked up at you he had tears threatening to fall. He shook his head handing the hat back to you, “This isn’t it.”

“Yes it is Yoongi. It’s the one I made you. Look at it.”

“No it’s not Y/N. The first one you made me years ago has a little hole on the side where we had to cut it when one of your earrings got caught.”

You remembered that day. The two of you were cuddling on the couch watching a movie when he went to get up and get more snacks but was stopped by you yelping in pain as your ear was pulled in his direction. You both tried for over twenty minutes to get your earring loose, but ended up having to just cut it out. You had promised to fix it, but never got around to it.

“Yoongi I’m sorry that you lost that hat, but please just take this one. Maybe over time it’ll mean something to you too.”

He began to sniffle and you had to force yourself not to pull him into a hug.

“Yeah it’ll be a reminder of how I lost the best thing that ever happened to me.”, he cried.

“Yoongi it’s just a hat. And not even an expensive designer one. I hardly think it’s the best thing that ever happened to you.”

He couldn’t hide the slight chuckle that escaped him, “I meant you Y/N. Not the hat.”

“Oh, I see”, you could feel your cheeks heat up from embarrassment.

“Y/N, please give me a second chance. I’m sorry that I had put work before you so many times. It was selfish of me. I thought I was helping us both by being as successful as possible, but now I know that all this money and success is nothing if I don’t have you to share it with.”

Watching as he wiped away a tear you sighed, “Yoongi, I just…I don’t know. How do I know that things won’t immediately go back to the way they were?”

“I don’t know Y/N. I can speak a thousand promises, but whether you choose to believe them or not is up to you. But if you give me another chance I’ll work harder than ever to prove to you that things will be better between us.”

“Okay, I’m not saying that things will instantly return to normal, but I think that we could try and work up to it.”, you sighed.

Yoongi bit his lip trying to contain the smile threatening to come through, “Thank you Y/N. I can work with that. I won’t let you down. C-Can I give you a hug?”

Smiling you took the blue beanie in your hands and placed it on top of his head before stepping forward wrapping your arms around his neck feeling like things were finally on the right track and thankful to be back in his arms.

Four years later…

“Oh my goodness, Jungkook these are the cutest little booties I’ve ever seen.”, you smiled holding up the pair of blue knit baby booties for everyone at your baby shower to see. “Little Baby Min is going to absolutely love these.”, you continued before handing the box over to Yoongi so he could get a look.

Yoongi stared down at the gift with his brows furrowed. “How did you have these made? I know you don’t knit.”, he asked the younger man. “Well my girlfriend knows a lady who takes old fabric and yarn and stuff and makes keepsakes. So I gave her the blue hat that Y/N had knit for you and asked if she could make baby booties. I knew that hat was important to you both and now your baby can enjoy it too.”

That seemed to only cause more confusion for Yoongi, “But that hat is upstairs in one of my drawers. I just saw it this morning.”

Jungkook smiled while shaking his head, “No, this is the original hat. You know the one you thought you lost.”

You felt Yoongi’s tense up next to you. Namjoon gasped from the corner.

“That’s very sweet Kookie. How did you get that hat by the way?”, you asked.

“Oh after we got back from the tour I found it in my luggage. I think it was tucked away in a sweatshirt I had grabbed.”

Yoongi cleared his throat, “So if you knew I was looking for it and you found it then why didn’t you say anything?”

With nervousness you looked between your husband and Jungkook repeatedly before reaching over and taking Yoongi’s hand in yours trying to brace him for the answer.

As nonchalantly as possible Jungkook replied, “You never asked me.”

[millenialfanfictionaddiction]

Being Atsumu’s Pregnant Partner:

YN goes into Labor

Atsumu Miya x Pregnant! GN reader

Warnings: swearing, pregnancy and a lot of stuff to do with pregnancy, mentions of throwing up and bodily fluids

***pregnancy is different for everyone and I’m basing this off my own personal experience

AN: *sigh* friends I’m having major baby fever and since I’m forever done diy-ing my own, I shall instead write about it 😌 maybe I should just get a kitten

Looking back now, it probably wasn’t the best idea to go to a professional, five set volleyball match at 39 weeks pregnant but here you were. You’d always been the devoted type, doing anything and everything you could to support your man no matter what.

Atsumu Miya wasn’t always the easiest partner to have but you loved the big dummy. He was extremely dedicated to his sport and team, which made dealing with him outside the court rather bothersome at times.

Nevertheless, you decided that you could stand just enough of him to spend your life by his side and raise a family. His brother, Osamu, asked you about a million times is you were for sure ready to raise a baby Miya. He knew exactly what it would be like because he was one.

At first you laughed it off, thinking that you had a few years of rest before the chaos would ensure but man, were you wrong. You’d become pregnant relatively quickly, making both you and Atsumu extremely excited.

However, your excitement soon dampened as you began spending most of your day hugging the porcelain thrown or downing antacids to help with the wicked indigestion that crept up your throat at every turn. Your breasts ached, your sleep suffered and the smell of nearly anything sent you running to the bathroom. Your skin broke out, hair began to shed, and most days, you felt like a Sméagol from lord of the rings, just trying to protect your unborn baby.

Atsumu had been as supportive as you imagined he’d be. This mostly meant calling Osamu to make you something to eat or google home remedies to help with your morning sickness. Osamu was also extremely excited for his little niece or nephew to make their appearance, doing whatever he could when Atsumu was gone to help you.

You’d managed to make it all the way to 39 weeks, and you were excited to finally be done. The doctor had scheduled an induction for the following week because of blood pressure issues. You weren’t exactly stoked about the idea of an induction but the fact that you’d be able to meet your baby soon was thrilling.

You waddled your way through the crowd, waving to people as you passed. Akaashi had stopped to talk with you as well as Asahi and Suga. It was nice to see everyone again even though you were exhausted.

“There they are!” Osamu yelled, waving you over to his Onigiri stand as you huffed and puffed, finally able to stop. The pressure from the baby was making it difficult to walk, your pelvis hurting as you leaned on the corner of his stand, his chuckle causing you to glare at him.

“You know you could have stayed him YN. Sumu pays for the expensive sports channels because he’s obsessed with watching replays of his games, I’m sure you’d see him on there,” Osamu joked as you motioned for a delicious looking Onigiri in the corner of the display case.

“This will probably be the last game Sumu plays in for a bit because of his paternity leave. I don’t want to miss it!”

Osamu chuckled, shaking his head as you made your way to the stairs of the bleachers. Your phone rang as you began to ascend, huffing and puffing as you walked up.

“Hello,” you answered as the noise of the locker room filled your ears.

“Hey baby! Did ya make it?” Atsumu shouted back as you finally found your spot and took a seat releasing a heavy sigh as you settled in.

“Not up as high as I normally go but my feet hurt too much to even care.”

Sumu laughed as you looked around to see the stands filled with people.

“Well just relax baby, this time next week will be in the hospital having our baby!”

You groaned just thinking about the idea of pushing out this child, knowing that the possibility of having a small baby was out of the picture.

“Yeah yeah, just make sure you win today, ok? I don’t want yo moping around the house for the next week!”

Atsumu laughed loudly as you smiled. He agreed and hung up the phone, knowing you’d be there to support him no matter what happened.

The teams took their places, and the match began without a hitch. You knew it’d be a long one by the sheer energy happening around you. Two sets had already taken place and the teams were tied. You watched as Sumu slammed a service ace right into the opposing team's court. Your man was on fire today, probably excited about everything happening around him.

The pressure of the baby on your bladder, pushed as you tried to adjust, not wanting to walk out right in the middle of Sumu’s serves. Of course, you knew his serves could go on for a while, so you finally caved, as you thought about the nearest bathroom.

Standing up, you felt a twinge hit. Your back began to radiate pain as it moved to the front of your belly. You gritted your teeth, gripping the side of the chair as you grabbed your stomach.

“Are you ok?” Someone asked as you turned to them confused and nodded. There was no way this was anything more than Braxton hick's contractions, right?

The pain subsided as you assured the person you were ok and made your way to the bathroom. In the bathroom, you noticed you had started losing the mucus plug your doctor had talked about. You knew this meant nothing and weren’t concerned as you continued to feel the baby kick in your stomach.

Washing your hands, you felt the pain against radiate from your back to your front. You had no idea how far apart these pains were as you quickly grabbed your phone and waited for the pain to subside.

Hitting the timer, you exited the bathroom and made your way back to your seat. You felt another pain hit as you quickly checked the timer.

7 minutes.

Standing on the side, you waited for the pain to pass again before ascending the stairs. At this point, you were clearly in denial that anything was happening. Surely these were only practice contractions. Your body had done them before but then again, they’d never felt quite like this.

You restarted the time as you finally sat down, trying to remain calm as you focused back on the game. A few minutes passed again before the pain started, only this time, you felt a pop, followed by a trickle of water fill your pants. You began to stand up as the pain emanated through your stomach.

“Hey Yn- YN HOLY CRAP!” You heard someone yell as Osamu came running over you to, abandoning the Onigiri in his hands to grab onto your arm and steady you.

“Samu the baby, I think the babies coming!” You whined as Osamu’s eyes widened at you, the crowd cheering as MSBY scored yet another point.

At this point, you had tears in your eyes, the pressure from the baby pushing more fluid from your body as the pain continued to radiate. You leaned hard on Samu, groaning as you tried to make it through the pain.

Osamu looked around for anyone he knew, anyone who could possibly help him get you downstairs and to the hospital. As if on cue, he looked down to see Sakusa’s eyes locked with his. He knew his best bet at this point was to try and signal to Sumu that you were in labor.

“YN’s in labor!” He mouthed as Sakusa’s eyes widened and he turned to Sumu who was in the back row. Sakusa wasn’t sure what to do as Sumu was preparing to serve yet again. He wasn’t a person to normally shout but then again, it wasn’t everyday his teammates partner was in active labor at a game.

He looked over to the coach who was now concerned about what was going on with him and why he continued to trail his eyes into the crowd. At this point, Hinata had begun to notice as well, his eyes following Sakusa’s as he saw you, bent over and holding your stomach as Osamu supported you.

“Holy crap YN’s in labor!” He shouted just as Sumu threw the ball up the serve. His eyes widened as his palm made contact with the ball.

“WHAT!?!” He bellowed, sending the ball slamming hard into the other side of the court as the whistle blew signaling the end of the set.

Atsumu quickly looked up to see Osamu helping you down the stairs as you breathed, your face contorted in pain.

“Shit Yn!” He shouted, quickly taking off into the crowd to get to you. He ran as fast as he could, dodging people left and right until he finally met you at the base of the stands.

“YN’s definitely in labor Sumu, their water broke and everything. Contractions are 7 minutes apart right now, but they are in a ton of pain,” Osamu recited as you moaned through another painful contraction, Atsumu grabbing onto your belly and helping lift it to relieve some pressure.

He hadn’t been super eager to take the birthing class suggested by your doctor, but he had to admit, the techniques were coming in handy.

“Sumu the game!” You whined as the contraction ended. Sumu shook his head vigorously before he was interrupted.

“Don’t worry about the game Yn, we will put in our sub and thanks to Sumu’s service ace, we are ahead a set,” Coach answered, coming up with Meian and Sakusa

“Just worry about having that baby Yn!” Meian chuckled as you smiled.

“Please take YN to the hospital now, do you know how unsanitary birthing a baby here would be?” Sakusa demanded as Atsumu blindly nodded and took control of you, Osamu running ahead to grab his car to help.

At the hospital, the doctor checked you before the anesthesiologist made their way to you, providing you with a moment to breathe. Osamu was waiting outside, not wanting to miss the birth of his brothers baby.

“Don’t you wanna watch the game Sumu?” You asked as your partner came beside you and grabbed your hand.

“Nah, Hinata texted me and told me we won. I’ll just watch it when we get home from the hospital. Plus, I want our baby to see how awesome I look on TV!”

You giggled, laying your head back as you rested your body. Atsumu right by your side as you entered this new stage of life together.

[feyhunter78]

Among the Sun Ch 6

Description: You must find a way out of the palace, but can you truly escape Miguel? Ch 7

Your head is heavy, full of waterlogged cotton, and your eyelids fight against you as you try to open them. A door swings shut, the heavy clunk of a lock, and panic surges through you. You cannot die here; you will not die here.

You don’t understand how or why, but each time Miguel has bid you to sleep, weaving that horrid spell that robs you of consciousness, it has worn off quicker and quicker than the time before. You’ve become skilled at feigning sleep, and tonight is no different from the night before.

Summoning your strength, you start by wriggling your fingers, then you curl your hand, from there you free your arms, your legs, and finally your eyelids admit defeat, allowing you to force them open. A candlelit room fills your vision, you are alone. The room is beautiful, and peaceful, your possessions stored properly or laid out where you can reach them once you find the strength to stand, or once Miguel decides to allow you to remain awake.

You push yourself off the bed, legs wobbling, but soon you find your balance and begin to search the room, running your hands over the walls. Every well-built castle is designed with an escape tunnel, you merely have to find it.

You’re running your hand along the frame of an ornate painting when you feel the gold inlay give. You press harder and harder until you hear a soft click. Then you’re through, tumbling into a darkened hallway, clad only in a nightshift, your feet bare.

Following the sound of muffled voices, you begin to make your way through the tunnel. Slits in the stone reveal small slivers of light, you pass the kitchen, the wine cellar, the apothecary’s receiving room, and then you smell it—fresh air, and the scent of flowers. The exit requires you to crawl up and out of a busted open trapdoor overgrown with strands of ivy. Dirt stains your clothing, leaves collect in your hair, and you sigh in relief when you emerge into an empty garden, the palace walls within sight, the sound of guards at the gate reaching your ears.

“Thank the gods.” You whisper into the open air, breathing in the intoxicating feeling of being almost free.

Clouds drift over the moon, casting the world into shadow, and you wrap your arms around yourself. Where would you go now? You are in a strange land, with no friends, no family, and the people of Nueva York worship Miguel, you fear few would turn against him to aid you.

You scream when a strong hand grabs you, pulling you until your back is pressing against the tree, the rough bark scraping your skin.

Miguel stands before you, the light of the moon a halo around his form, but his face is drenched in shadow only his eyes, glowing strangely in the dark, are fully visible.

“Yo—Your Grace, I—this is not what it appears to be.” You stutter, frantically searching your mind for an excuse to give him.

“Is that so?” Miguel asks, one huge hand encircling your wrists, binding your hands together with a simple hold.

“I woke up and was frightened, I was looking for you.” You swallow hard, unable to meet Miguel’s eyes.

“And you believed I would be here, in the gardens closet to the main gate?”

This was the main gate? What an absolute fool you were, of course you got caught.

Miguel pushes your arms up and over your head, pressing them against the tree, then he releases them.

You try to bring them down, but they hold fast. Brief memories of your torrid dreams flash through your mind, a sliver of heat running through you before your common sense banishes it.

Miguel raises an eyebrow. “I have heard you speak before; will you not do it now?”

“I do not know where the gates are, I do not even know where we are.”

Miguel trails a clawed finger down the curve of your cheek, dipping his head until his lips were all but pressed against your ear. “¿Quieres que te persiga como un perro, solo para que niegues que estás tratando de escapar? Qué cruel.” Trsl: You would have me chase you like a dog, only for you to deny that you are trying to escape? How cruel.

“I—I do not understand.” You tell him, both frightened and aroused by the change in his voice, it’s lower, fuller, and sends a shiver down your spine.

“¿Cómo pudiste ser tan cruel? Mi vida, ¿deseas que yo también sea cruel? No quiero lastimarte.”  Trsl: How could you be so cruel? My life, do you wish for me to be cruel as well? I do not want to hurt you.

“Please, Miguel, I did not mean to make you angry.” You promise, looking up at him with tears in your eyes.

Miguel’s expression shifts, softens, and he cups your face, his hands gentle now. “No, no, I was merely worried, cariño, it’s dangerous out at night. I did not mean to scare you.”

His expression shifts once more, his eyes flitting down to your lips.

“Dangerous?” You ask, your heart banging like a war drum in your chest.

He hums in response, trailing his fingers down your side, ever so slowly.

Your breath hitches. “Dangerous how?”

“There are bad men that roam the streets' querida, I try to stop them, but there will always be evil that slips through my fingers, I am only one man.”

“But you are the great conqueror?” You say, your face warming, as his hands drift lower and lower.

“I am but one man.” He repeats, bunching his hands in your nightshift. “I cannot guarantee that there will be no foolish men who try their luck within my empire.”

“I am not so much a fool to believe such words.” You say softly. “I have heard tales of the consequences for disobeying, smelled smoke upon the air, seen great pillars of flame born of neighboring cities.”

He smiles, fangs exposed ever so slightly. “A desperate man does not fear consequences. And to look upon you and not grow desperate is an impossible feat.”

“I can assure you I have never driven a man to desperation.” You tell him, your stomach churning with a mix of arousal, flattery, and fear.

“Perhaps you were simply not aware? I cannot imagine the noblemen of your court did not feel a sense of desperation upon the sight of your every move.” Miguel muses, beginning that slow drag of his fingertips up and down your sides once more.

“I am their princess, they looked upon me with respect.” You argue, brow furrowing in anger.

“You do not think they wished to bed you? To slide their cock between your folds and take their pleasures? To have their princess sink to her knees and wrap her perfect lips around them?”

Miguel’s heated tone makes you shiver, but you raise your chin in defiance, truly unsure of where this confidence has come from as you stand before the very man who ravaged the continent. “They would be fools to think I would ever kneel before them, for any purpose.”

Miguel hums in satisfaction, his eyes burning into yours as he cups your cheek, resting his thumb on the center of your lips. “Only a fool would waste his time in such a way. Do you wish to know what I would do, if I were a desperate nobleman in your court?”

You feel as if you should say no, but your curiosity wins out. “Something vile?”

He chuckles and shakes his head, his thumb stroking the soft flesh of your bottom lip. “No, I would fall to my knees before you and feast, until the whole of the kingdom could hear you begging for me. Then I would ravish you upon that pretty balcony of yours so that all others could see how well I pleasure you, how you belong to me and I to you.”

You’re taken aback, his words sending lewd images to your mind, ones you know will torment you as you sleep.

“But I am not such a man, and we no longer reside within your kingdom.” Miguel says, stepping away from you.

The heat he radiates has disappeared, leaving you shivering in the cool night air.

He takes your hands, gently pulling them from the tree before pressing his lips to the sore skin. “My apologies, the hour grows late, and the air will grow far chiller. Come, I will ask the servants to draw you a bath.”

You follow after him, head spinning as you attempt to piece together the events of the night, of the way Miguel seemed to shift in his emotions so quickly. You risk a look back at the garden’s exit with a sinking feeling that this will be the last time you’ll ever be allowed near it again.

Tag list: @not-aya, @belos-simp69, @deputy-videogamer, @sxnasbitch, @maxi-ride, @minimari415, @syndrlla97, @gejo333, @lady-necromancer, @zeyzeys-stuff, @tayleighuh, @loser-alert, @envyjmoney, @allysunny, @princessloveweird, @freehentai, @xlittlebubx-blog, @berry-potchy, @drefear, @jkthinkstoomuch, @ihateuguys, @yuuotosaka3, @queenofroses22, @ray-rook, @lollipopin

[spacedace]

hey in your tags you mentioned a “batfam leverage au” can u explain what that is

Happily! :D

So I'm not sure if you're familiar with the show Leverage, but the quick summary is that it's about a group of "bad guys" (a hacker, a hitter, a grifter, a theif and the mastermind that directs them all) that help people who have been hurt by the rich and powerful by using their skills to pull heists and cons on the bad guy of the episode to ruin them and get back whatever was taken/right whatever was made wrong.

It's an amazing show that I can't recommend enough, very clever, very funny, big found family vibes and an OT3 that's *this close* to being canon (and has been supported by the writers). The heists are amazing and it's all around an AMAZING show.

Anyway, the BatPham Leverage Au is basically just: a collection of DP & BatFam members join together to make a robin hood heist team like in the show Leverage. I have a couple versions of the BatPham Leverage AU rattling around my head, but most fleshed out right now are:

Business of Family - the Uncle Oz AU (Penguin Adopts Jazz & Danny): My plan for this story is for Jazz and Danny to decide to start running heists in Gotham on the people in the city that tend to fly under Batman's radar but who are still very much doing a lot of harm to the city and it's people. The Leverage AU part of this story is going to have Jazz as the Mastermind, Jason as the Hitter, Tim as the Hacker, Danny as the Thief/Maker (basically engineer), and Elle as the Grifter (shapeshifting Elle for the win lol).

Another Leverage AU I've been thinking about for awhile but that I haven't turned into a story yet is one where Team Phantom (Danny, Jazz, Sam, Tucker & Elle) are tasked with finding and returning various Infinite Realm artifacts that have ended up in the mortal world. And for some reason Gotham has just so many Infinite Realm artifacts in it. Like most of the artifacts in the world are in Gotham for some wild reason (it's Gotham there doens't need to be more of a reason).

They're on the run from the GIW/Fentons, so they're trying not to advertise any ghostly/liminal powers if they can help it, so they largely do heists without powers (minus Tucker doing all his hacking and everything from the Ghost Zone and some occasional invisibility/intangibility when it's called for, but they really do try and keep any power use to a minimum).

In this AU, Jazz is the Mastermind (again, because I love that role for her haha), Tucker is the Hacker, but that's when I can't quite decide who should be who.

I love the idea of Sam being a Hitter, but I think she'd be able to play Grifter pretty well knowing the rich as well as she does, Danny would love being a Hitter and being able to fuck some assholes' shit up while being completely feral but he could also still be a good Thief. Elle could go either Grifter again, but I like her as a Theif in this one, maybe running into Damian in the vents while she's trying to get into a vault or something lol. (I think it'd go with Danny: Hitter, Sam: Grifter, Elle: Thief, but I have no idea if that'll stick if/when I ever write this lol)

Whatever the team looks like, because there are so many artifacts in Gotham & because they can't just use their powers willy-nilly to grab them and run, they're going to be in Gotham for a long time, possibly years. Which means they need some kind of side hustle to pay the bills, which leads them to doing more heists, but this time on various rich assholes that deserve to lose a bunch of money.

Eventually they get on the Bats radar, and there'd be some fun cat & mouse back and forth with the BatFam trying to catch the Phantom Crew (Danny shouldn't be allowed to name things, but he already told Red Robin that was their team name before anyone could stop him). Eventually the GIW do show up and things start getting even more complicated (and maybe someone activates an artifact, resulting in a powerful entity being released in Gotham that they all have to team up to fight).

I have no name for this au other than the DP X DC Leverage Au, but I do know that'll have plenty of Anger Management, Brain Dead (or really Brain Dead + Everlasting Trio, don't know what the ship name for that is), Serious Chaos.

It'll also have Batman aggressively trying to adopt them all because he doesn't actually have anything against them stealing from these assholes as long as they don't hurt anyone. They're acting outside of the law yes but they're doing it in order to give justice to those who have been made victims by the system and he's all about that (the real final battle of the story is between Bruce & Selina who both want to adopt the Pham, who would like to know if they get a say in any of this - they don't).

[opaloharas]

lazy sunday

hello!

for the last few months, i have been thinking about older miguel. and by older, i mean... grandfather age (i.e. gilf) i got the inspiration mostly from a movie with benjamin bratt i watched too eeek.

this is a little snippet and something unrelated to a whole story i have planned out but i have been eager to post something!

a special thanks to my pookies in the discord server ! especially @bluesidez because this would not have happened if we did not talk about this !

cw: a disclaimer: THIS IS NOT A SUGAR DADDY/SUGAR BABY relationship and THIS IS NOT a dad's best friend situation either (not saying these are bad, just not the dynamics of my story!) just two strangers who fell in love :3, age gap (miguel is 55 and reader is late twenties like 29 to early thirties), fluffy, breakfast in bed, evening cruises, smut, Miguel is a lil freak but he loves reader, oral (f & m receiving), wholesome domestic activities, P in V, unprotected sex (do not do!), miguel being a little introspective, i think that is it !

Sundays are meant for resetting before the week starts. They are meant to prepare your mind and body for the weight of the world that is going to crush you within the next twenty-four hours.

In the O’Hara house though, Sundays are meant for lazing around and loving. Through tender touches in the morning, and breakfast in bed, Miguel wants to make sure that you feel loved through and through. In his fifty-five years of life, he has learned all the right ways to keep his partner happy.

When he woke up on this particular Sunday, he saw you sleeping beside him, curled up in the blankets with your hair splayed on the pillow like a halo.

“My angel..” he whispered, tenderly touching your cheek with his knuckles.

He shuffled downstairs, already deciding how to surprise you. Through apples cut into little turtles, carefully cutting a mango, and making the fluffiest omelet his hands had ever crafted. He smiled at his work before making a mug of green tea for you in the mug he bought for you to have here. Another touch that you were the one he cherished.

His venture back upstairs had him feeling like an old maid, his hands full as he nudged the bedroom door open with his foot, stopping again to admire you while more sunshine filtered into the room. If he was not holding the tray so tight, everything would have fallen off of it. Carefully, he set the tray down on the nightstand, shaking you awake gently.

“My sweet angel… let’s wake up, hmm?” He cooed, watching as your eyes fluttered open, your long lashes touching against your browbone.

You rubbed your eyes, the smell of breakfast causing you to wake up a little faster as you reached for the plate, “Thank you so much. You didn’t hav-” Miguel cut you off by placing a mango chunk against your lips, shaking his head.

Oh, how he loved you so.

The morning passed with lazy kisses and snuggles before he stretched, releasing a loud groan as he did so, the paper he was reading in bed tossed somewhere on the bedroom floor. He knew that you both had to do at least something so he encouraged you to get out of bed with him. Both of you got ready and the whole time, he was admiring you. He watched how you curled your lashes, and how your mouth hung open while you applied your mascara. He did not think you needed any cosmetics but he loved how makeup brought you joy. He buttoned up his shirt, thankful for this moment with you before he planted a kiss on your lips, holding onto your waist as you both walked out of your joint bathroom.

The middle of the afternoon called for grocery shopping. Grocery shopping with you was something he never thought he would enjoy. Seeing your eyes sparkle as you picked up a new type of jam or exclaimed your excitement for raspberries being on sale, made his heart soar. He followed behind you or either had his hand resting on your lower back, comfortable with the minimal display of affection. Together, even the simplest of tasks felt like the most romantic.

Hours passed and when you were about to fall onto the couch, craving a morsel of quiet, Miguel jingled his keys from the opposite side of the apartment. The little sound of metal making your heart flutter. It was time for the weekly ritual.

Miguel escorted you out to the Cadillac convertible that you both loved dearly. Every Sunday night, he took you for a drive. It never got old. In fact, the first time he took you out on a drive, he realized that he loved you the first time. His right hand was placed on your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. Miguel’s eyes could barely focus on the road ahead, blinded by your grace as the wind blew your hair back. He could not tell what was brighter- your smile or the sun.

Music filled the silence between you, him, and the world that moved by you while he drove. He still felt nervous around you, after all this time. He would still think he was not good enough for you or that you did not actually love him. But whenever he looked at you, he knew that he was just in his head. He saw how you looked at him and how you would be the person to fill his heart again.

When he pulled up to a stop light, he pushed his sunglasses back up over his nose bump, letting out a contented sigh.

“I am bewitched by you.” He gave a suave smile, causing you to laugh.

“Bewitched? That is a very strong word.” You shrugged, mildly caught off guard by his seemingly passionate declaration. He just looked at you and shook his head, turning up the music as a signal he had nothing else to say.

When the two of you pulled back into the parking area of your home, he looked over at you, his glasses pushed up to keep his hair back.

 “Mama,” he started, “You bewitch me. I am madly in love with you. More than you ever will know. And I need to express this to you more. You make me feel like a.. a.. you make me feel whole.” He managed to get out, his palms sweaty. Even though he’s spoken more heartfelt words to you in the past, this time just felt like he was doing it all over again. And when you kissed him and wrapped your arms around his neck, oh, he felt like he did the first time you and him kissed.

Miguel could not contain himself by the time you both got inside. His hands ran up your body, shedding off your little brown sundress, the buttons falling onto the floor.

“That was a vintage piece!” You exclaimed, and he just rolled his eyes and kissed down your bare neck, nipping at the gold necklace he had purchased for you shortly after becoming a couple. 

He lifted you with ease, carrying you to your shared bedroom. You stripped down the rest of the way before he lifted you, gently setting you down on the bed before he undressed himself. Your eyes admired every inch of his exposed body, a sense of pride and love rushing through you. You watched as he sunk down onto his knees, taking off your kitten heels and kissing up your ankles to your lower thighs. The last sun rays were filtering in, mixing in with the bedside lamp you had left on earlier before you both went out, making his skin glow.

He looked up at you with warm eyes as he spread your thighs apart, not caring his knees were going to be aching by the time he was finished with you. He rested his head against your thigh, arms hooking around you and pulling your hips closer. His tongue traced up the center of your pussy, his eyes closing as through each taste of you, the more he got lost in his head. His mouth worked slowly and skillfully, his fingers now spreading you apart to give him better access. He spit against you, relishing in the sound of your gasp before he let his tongue savor you again. Your thighs clamped against the sides of his head while you ran your fingers through his hair. Your back arched off the bed before he shifted, sucking against your clit and using the hand that was spreading you open for him to press down on your stomach to hold you in place.

His lips shined with your slick as he pulled away, admiring your spent state. You motioned for him to come onto the bed, scooting up. The bed dipped slightly from his weight joining you, his knees digging into the mattress. He adjusted the pillows behind you, making sure you were comfortable before you moved onto your knees in front of him, eyes focused on his thick cock.

“You are so pretty.. and you treat me like a queen..” You trailed off, taking him into your mouth. Miguel gasped, his head leaning back as he basked in the feeling.

“Mmm.. fuck. Just like that, oh.. right there, you feel so amazing.” He whined, his hands holding onto your head gently. His hips moved forward and he nearly came when he felt you match his rhythm, your nose now pressed into the thick patch of hair on his groin, your eyes looking right up at him. He felt his heart pound in his chest, his eyes squeezing shut before you pulled away from him, leaving him to chase his high.

With a chuckle, he pressed you against the bed, his fingers slipping inside you briefly to prepare you. He replaced his fingers with his cock, a slew of obscenities leaving his lips as his hips met yours. His thrusts were slow and passionate, his fingers lacing with yours as he leaned forward to press kisses against your breasts before finding your lips. He adjusted, pulling your hips up a little more, allowing him to press into you from a different angle. As his movements got more sloppy, he hit all the right spots for you, your moans echoing off of the walls as the headboard slammed against the wall. He released into you, his hair sticking onto his forehead, his body glowing from sweat.

“You’re gorgeous.” He whispered, looking down at you, moving hair out of your face before he rested his head against your chest. His eyes closed, whining as he pulled away from you. Both of you basked in the emotions and love, a comfortable silence settling within the space.

Miguel felt love and Miguel knew the love you and him shared was genuine. And now, as he held you close, he could only wait until tomorrow to tell you how beautiful you are to him when he takes his first breath of Monday morning.

[vodika-vibes]

Since Fives is a really good investigator (evident with him finding about Order 66), can I request an x reader fic where he investigates a string of heists involving Jedi artefacts committed by the reader, who is a flirty master thief, and he tries to pursue her across Coruscant to bring her to justice?

Knew You Were Trouble

Summary: When ancient artifacts start vanishing from the Jedi Temple, stolen from right under the noses of both the archivists and the Jedi Guardians, Fives decides to investigate.

Pairing: Pre ARC Trooper Fives x Thief F!Reader

Word Count: 2484

Warnings: Reader is described as having a feminine body, and wearing makeup. Reader is given the codename Shadow for ease.

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Sorry that this took so long! I've had it sitting open in a Doc for days, but I finally got an idea! Reader's outfit is similar to this outfit from Persona 5 Royal. Though without the weapons. There may be a part two of this, if I ever get the motivation.

“General Nu-”

“Master,” The older woman corrects, as she glances at Fives out of the corner of her eye, and then turns back to her work, “What can I help you with, Corporal?”

“I think a holocron is missing.” Fives replies as he looks at the open spot on the shelf. There’s some discoloration, as though something had been sitting there for a long time.

The older woman hurries over and glances at the spot, a severe frown on her lips. She stares at the spot for a moment, and then releases a heavy sigh. “Again?”

“Ma’am?”

Jocasta Nu shoots him a severe look, and Fives fights the urge to quail under her glare, “How are you at investigations, Corporal?”

“...decent enough, I suppose.”

“Good, follow me.” The older woman leads him through the archives until she reaches her desk, and then she turns a monitor towards him, and she navigates to a file of saved videos, “Watch. This was recorded 5 months ago.”

Fives focuses on the screen.

It’s security footage of the Archives, and he watches as someone, a woman based on her body shape, slips in a window.

She’s dressed oddly, almost in a leotard, with thigh high boots, a long overcoat, and a sharp looking domino mask covering the upper part of her face hiding her features from the camera.

She locks her gaze on the camera and presses a finger against her lips, as if shushing someone, and the camera feed goes fuzzy.

“This next one was taken three weeks after that.”

The monitor flickers, and then there’s an image of the same woman opening one of the vaults before the feed cuts out.

“And last night.”

The monitor changes one more time, and the exact same person, dressed exactly the same, is shown blatantly taking a holocron from the shelf, before she, again, disconnects the cameras.

Fives pulls away from the monitor and focuses his gaze on General Nu, “The same person has broken in three times-”

“She’s broken in a grand total of a dozen times…we’ve only caught her on camera thrice.” General Nu corrects.

“...and the Temple Guard haven’t done anything?”

“They are of the opinion that she doesn’t exist.” The older woman scowls, “Honestly, I don’t even know why she’s targeting us. It’s not like we keep gems on hand.”

“You keep knowledge on hand though. And to some people, that’s worth more than all the gems in the galaxy.” Fives points out.

The woman bristles and then her shoulders slump, “Yes. I know. I want you to try and find her and bring her to justice.”

Fives exhales through his teeth, “With all due respect, ma’am. I’m due to ship out with the 501st tomorrow-”

“I’ll handle it. Will you help?”

Nervously Fives rubs the back of his neck, and then he sighs, “Yeah, alright. Assuming you can get permission, I’ll help. Do you have any evidence for me to go on?”

Master Nu smiles, it’s a sharp little thing and for a moment Fives wonders why she isn’t in charge of the war effort. “The holocron she stole has a tracking chip inside it. And, since holocrons can only be opened by force sensitives, it means she couldn’t have removed it.”

“Why didn’t you tell the Temple Guard about it?”

“Because, again, they don’t believe she actually exists.” General Nu presses a small datapad into his hand, “Here, this is what you need to track the holocron.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll let you know what the Council says about your deployment.”

“Thanks for that too,” Fives replies as he powers the device on and waits for it to scan for the tracking fob that it’s keyed to. As soon as the screen lights up, he grabs his helmet and pulls it on and leaves the archives.

The fob is located in a warehouse only a short speeder ride away from the temple. 

And a quick search of the net tells him that the Warehouse is supposed to be abandoned. A deeper search of the net tells him that the warehouse was slated for demolition several years ago, but it just never happened.

“We have arrived at your destination.” The taxi droid chirps, “Thank you for your patronage.” Fives steps out of the speeder and glances at the datapad one more time.

“Seven warehouses,” He murmurs, zooming in a little bit, “I’m looking for building A-2478/23.” The speeder zips off while he’s not paying attention to it, not that he minds, really.

Fives wasn’t planning on returning to the temple right away anyway.

He glances at the datapad one more time, and then looks up and around. The buildings have to be labeled, right?

Ah! There, the closest building, is A-2475/23.

So odds are on the left side and evens would be on the right, assuming that this place is designed with any sort of logic. He jogs over to the first building on the right until he’s able to see the white letters on the side of the building.

A-2474/23.

So two down then.

The warehouse he’s looking for is a little more rundown than the other ones. Boarded up windows, rust replacing the green paint in places, leaking pipes…

And yet-

Fives moves to where the door is located, his eyes narrowing. The lights over the door are new. The broken windows are broken in such a way that it looks intentional. The doorknob on the door is also new, all of the rust is painted on.

He walks over to a rusty patch and he tugs off his glove to touch the rust with his bare fingers. It’s not real. 

Someone has gone to great lengths to make this place look like it’s been condemned. 

He walks over to the door and lightly touches the doorknob. How long has it been since he’s seen a building using a door like this, rather than the more mechanized ones that are seen everywhere.

Clever.

If he wasn’t looking for something out of place, he’d likely think that this building was ancient and wouldn’t give it a second thought.

Luckily, he’s smarter than the average bear, so to speak.

He pulls his hand away from the doorknob and pulls his glove back on. There’s no way he’s going through the front door. That’s just asking for trouble. 

He circles the warehouse, thoughtfully. Considering all of his options.

Opening the bay doors isn’t an option, he’d never get them open on his own from the outside. The ground floor windows are also out, anyone inside would see him immediately.

His gaze lands on the fire escape. Like the rest of the building, the ladder doesn’t look like it would carry the weight of a small child, let alone a man full grown. 

However, Fives has already seen evidence of someone going out of their way to try and make this place look more dangerous than it is. So he walks over to the ladder and jumps up to grab the bottom most rung.

Fives hangs there for a moment, waiting, and when the fire escape doesn’t dissolve under his weight, or even shake, he feels comfortable hoisting himself up to the fire door.

The door looks rusted beyond belief, and Fives is sure that it’s all fake rust. But he’s not so stupid to try and touch the door. Fire doors are notoriously sensitive, he remembers that from ARC Training.

So he ignores the door, and instead jumps up to grab the ledge of the roof, and he pulls himself up to the ledge.

A quick survey tells him that there aren’t any sensors on the roof, and he huffs out a quiet laugh, “You’d think that a thief would put sensors on the roof.” He mumbles to himself as he steps onto the gravel roof.

A second quick glance around leads Fives to side-step the roof access door, a door that he’s sure is rigged to an alarm, to crouch next to a window. And this, right here, is all of the proof that he needs that everything about the building is a facade. 

These windows are brand new, and made from blaster proof material. A material that Fives knows was only invented in the last few years.

He can’t see through the windows, not well at least, but he is able to see that there isn’t any movement on the upper walkways. So carefully, very carefully, making sure that none of the windows are wired, he opens one.

One final check that he’s not going to land on anyone, Fives drops into the warehouse, making sure that the window is closed behind him.

Silently he moves from the wall to peer down into the main part of the warehouse. 

There, sitting on a table, is the holocron that was missing. Well, presumably. There are a lot of holocrons on the table. 

On another table are some statues. Some books actually made of flimsy are lined up on another table.

There’s an entire shelf filled with weapons of all types.

And there, pacing between the tables, is a Devaronian man. Fives isn’t able to see the look on his face, and, even more clearly, he’s not the actual thief.

A contractor, perhaps?

Maybe the thief was hired by him to acquire all of these things…though Fives can’t think of a reason why. There’s nothing in common between any of these items that he can see, save for the fact that they’re old.

He scans the warehouse one more time, and then movement catches his eye.

There, perched on a wooden crate, is the thief.

Without her mask.

Fives’ immediate thought was that someone as pretty as her should probably be making a living as a model or an actress or something, not living as a master thief. His second thought is that she’s far too young to have stolen all of the things in the warehouse.

“My darling Shadow,” The man is speaking to Shadow, the thief, and Fives pulls himself out of his thoughts, “You’re so talented.”

“Yes,” She agrees, her voice light, “I am.”

“You’re almost as good as your father.” He continues.

“My father never managed to get into the Jedi Temple. I managed it 12 times in the last year.” Shadow replies, sounding bored out of her mind as she examines her gloves, “But please, do continue telling me how talented my father was.”

Her contractor opens his mouth to say something, and then hesitates, “My dear,” he finally says, condescendingly, “No one is as good as you think you are.”

The young woman lifts her head to say something, and then she pauses, her gaze sliding to the upper walkways. Her gaze locks onto his face, and she smiles, slow and pretty. “We have company.”

The Devaronian jerks, “What? Where!?” He spins around and looks up, and Fives, knowing that he’s been busted, moves a little more into the light. “Kriff! It’s the GAR!” The man yelps, before he shoves all of the holocrons into a bag and sprints away.

Shadow, however, doesn’t bother to run. Instead, she smoothly gets to her feet and pulls her mask on. “‘Won’t you step into my parlor?’ said the spider to the fly?” She coos.

It’s a trap. It’s clearly a trap.

But Fives can’t help but smirk, as he leans over the railing, “Does that make you the spider in this scenario, Miss Shadow?”

“Why don’t you come down and find out, little soldier boy.”

He should go after the contractor. He should. That would be the smart thing to do.

But no one’s ever accused him of being smart.

So Fives grips the railing, and he jumps over the edge.

A quick activation of his jetpack allows him to land lightly on his feet only a few feet away from her. “I’ve come to reclaim the items you took from the Jedi temple.” Fives announces.

Her red painted lips turn up, “Have you? How do you intend to do that?”

“I already caught you.” Fives points out.

She laughs, it’s a pretty sound, “Sweetheart, I haven’t been caught.”

“Yet.”

“Oh, you do think highly of yourself, don’t you?” She murmurs. Her eyes, the only part of her upper face not hidden by her mask, sweep down his body, “Of course, I suppose you have every reason to.”

“You could make this easy on both of us and just turn yourself in.”

“Now, why would I do that?”

“You clearly recognize that I’m an ARC Trooper.”

Her smile widens, “The best of the GAR…on the battlefield. And this, darling, is hardly a battlefield.”

Fives sighs, “You’re going to make me catch you, aren’t you?”

She scans him once more, “Well, I’m always happy to submit to a man in armor-” Fives inhales sharply, and he can feel his face heating under his helmet, “But you haven’t made me submit yet.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“So you’re going to let me go? How nice of you~”

“I didn’t say that.”

Her smile doesn’t waver as she moves. Fives curses, she’s faster than she looks, especially for someone wearing heels that high.

Then she’s right in his space. His helmet lifts, just a little, and warm lips press against his jaw. “Catch me if you can, handsome.” Then she’s gone, balanced on the rafters of the warehouse and smiling down at him, “I’ll let you have the stuff in the warehouse, as a treat.”

It takes him a moment to gather his thoughts, “Let?” He rasps.

Her smile is pretty, “Let. After all, you found me didn’t you. Think of it as…incentive to keep looking for me.”

“If everything is here, then why would I do that?”

She produces a datacron from under her jacket, “I like information, sweetheart. And so, over the last dozen visits to the temple, I made copies of every bit of information that I could. And I have it right here.”

Kriff.

Double kriff.

If that information gets out-

There’s a flash of pink as she licks her lower lip, “Are you motivated yet?”

“Well, I guess I don’t have a choice, do I?” Fives’ jaw clenches, “I am going to catch you.”

“I look forward to it, handsome.” And then she really is gone, out the same window that he entered through.

Slowly, shakily, Fives comms General Nu, “I found…a lot. But the thief got away.” He says as soon as she answers.

“How much is a lot?”

Fives looks around the massive warehouse filled with stolen objects, “A whole warehouse full.” He pauses, “There’s more, too.”

“Tell me when I arrive. You and your…twin…have officially been transferred to me.” General Nu says, “I hope he’s as good an investigator as you.”

The comm cuts off and Fives looks around with a sigh. Well, he never really wanted to fight in a war anyway.

[fortunekookie07]

I don't know if I'm just seriously lucky that I decided to download the game when I did or someone wanted to send me a small fortune buuuuutt....

I'm gonna get my hundredth day when the new version is released and the new character.

On the other hand I'm also anticipated impending disaster. I never seem to hav fortune like that.

Crossing my fingers this ain't one of those times.

[cleolinda]

Weekend links

My posts

I have been amorphously unwell (migraines, dizziness, aches) this week, which is super great. I am, in fact, daunted by the complexities and unknowns.

See "Personal tag of the week" at the bottom for updates on the Tumblr happenings.

Reblogs of interest

Thousands of Israelis protest in Tel Aviv, demanding a hostage release/ceasefire deal and new elections.

I never know how to segue from a serious news item.

Theseus liveblogs the labyrinth, and it’s heartbreaking.

Before hbomberguy was going after plagiarism, he was playing Donkey Kong for trans rights.

“to touch is to interact, and when you put your hand on your dog the universe does not know that you are separate”

The universe knows you are separate from this cat’s Absolute Terror Field

Cats named Pigeon

The most dramatic cat

Figure out what starts your engine and ride the waves of your brain

This is not van fundamentalism

Lawful good werebears

The Godmother is not committed to the kindness

Escape room employees reveal the worst, or best, things they’ve seen on the job.

“So I explained to him the story of ‘Alice’s Restaurant,’ and he began to get MAD”

It seems that y’all do not understand that the Better Call Saul ads are just how we live in the US, and that I pass five Alexander Shunnarah billboards just to get a quesadilla. 

1) Don’t take your native animals for granted. 2) This jay is the bluebird of happiness, apparently.

Wisdom from a Tumblr longtimer

Benign chain posts: the Money Garf

Video

Every now and then I fall apaaaaaart

Click through for a massive gothic rock playlist on YouTube

It’s a great dance contest entry--but then they tell you it’s also randomly-paired improv

Capybara capybara (capybara)

The sacred texts

You have not seen a sacred internet text until you have seen the Lolrus (2006)

Personal tag of the week

“the happenings” is my tag for all internet platform bullshit. This week, it’s Tumblr, as CEO Matt Mullenweg lost his shit and started harassing a trans user (including on another platform). This is a factual explanation early in the week of what happened and how it started: 

predstrogen (the first blog) was allegedly deleted for “sexually explicit material” despite any posts that may have been labelled as such being marked with a community label and her blog recently being manually approved as NOT containing adult content. she also talks in this post, as well as here, about how she has had a support ticket open for several months for harassment she was receiving that has not been dealt with

the CEO of tumblr made a post wherin he publicly aired information regarding her deletion and threatened legal action against her , showing examples of the alleged death threats where no actual threats were made and telling people in the replies to just leave if they were unhappy with the moderation of the site

Specifically, he was upset by the expressed wish that he perish in a car covered in hammers that would explode multiple times, a serious threat that could surely come to fruition in reality. If you can't tell that I'm being sarcastic, congratulations, you're CEO material.

It spiraled from there, but suffice it to say, it ended with trans employees posting on the Staff account (reblog here with commentaries):

The reality of predstrogen’s suspension was not accurately conveyed, and made it seem like we were reaching for opportunities to ban trans feminine people on the platform. This is not the case. The example comment shared in the post linked above does not meet our definition of a realistic threat of violence, and was not the deciding factor in the account suspension. Matt thereafter failed to recognize the harm to the community as a result of this suspension. Matt does not speak on behalf of the LGBTQ+ people who help run Tumblr or Automattic, and we were not consulted in the construction of a response to these events.

While the post is sincerely emotional and brave, the real chess move is this part:

We appreciate the space we have been given to express our concerns and dissent, and we are thankful that Matt’s (and Automattic’s) strong commitment to freedom of expression has facilitated it. We will continue to fight to make Tumblr safe for us all.

Matt Mullenweg now either has to nod and go, “Yeah, yeah... I’m a great guy committed to freedom...” Or he can, I don’t know, shut the site down in a fit of defiant pique? All I’m going to say about this is that the day all this first went down, I started archiving any posts I’d put significant effort into last year, and I’ll be crossposting them on Dreamwidth and Patreon. I don’t want to lose Tumblr’s culture and unique platform--I mean, I think the Weekend Links themselves make a case for the fact that there is nothing else like Tumblr on the internet. And shutting down is not even necessarily the most likely outcome--but I’m not gonna be caught unprepared, either. 

[foamy-cafe]

i literally drew this over 2 months ago n i JUST finished it

help- YES I WAS TOO LAZY TO DRAW MULTIPLE LERS 😭😭😭 MAYBE NEXT TIME I SWEAR-,, anyways, for my ppl in a ler mood, hav this story to put you in an even worse mood! :]

Well, this was quite the situation.

Kobalt had been jumped by you are your friends, her hands pinned aboveher head by one of your friends. You sat on her legs, grinning big as you wiggled your fingers in front of her face. Your friend sat on the side of her. There was a large smile plastered across their face, but not as large as the goofy grin that was on Kobalt's. You had forgotten how adorable she could be when "threatened" in this way. But she was absolutely asking for it. From wearing her cropped t-shirt, leaving her belly exposed, to being as annoying as possible with you and your friends, it seemed like she was just begging for the tickles. "H-Hey-! We- we can talk about this, you guys-! I mean, c'mon Y/N, pleaseee~?" She laughed nervously, peering up at you all with her heterochromic eyes. "Hmm~, noo, I don't think we can, nor do we want to~," you teased as you pushed her shirt up a little higher, exposing the entirety of her tan tummy. Kobalt began shifting nervously, trying to pull her wrists free from your friend's as she giggled hysterically. Thankfully, your friend was very strong, so they only had to use one hand to hold her arms above her head. So, now they had a free hand if they wanted to join in on the tickling shenanigans. "Aww, she's so nervous~.. what's the matter Kobalt~? Where'd that bratty attitude you had before go~?" Your friend teased. They had already started, skittering their fingertips against her side, using their other hand to knead her other side. You were left deciding where to tickle her as you heard Kobalt beginning to giggle hysterically. You hummed thoughtfully, walking your fingers up and down her entire tummy as she squealed and laughed brightly, twisting and bucking her hips. You soon paused in the middle of her tummy, the softest area as you began skittering all five of your fingers there. "Y/N~!!" she exclaimed, kicking her legs lightly, though since you were sitting on her legs, she couldn't move them much. "Yes~?" You purr out teasingly, walking your fingers back down to her bellybutton, the shiny piercings catching your eyes. Kobalt seemed to notice your lingering gaze on her bellybutton as she squealed and struggled. "Noho- not thehere-!!" She begged, snorting lightly. You smirked lightly, tracing your finger around her bellybutton, slowly getting closer and closer to the little button. "Why not here~?" You teased before getting to the edge of her bellybutton, scratching just around the rim of it. Kobalt began twisting and struggling, laughing harder as she sucked in her tummy, causing your face to brighten from such a reaction. "Is someone.. tickle, tickle, ticklish~?" You taunted, before dipping your finger into it. Kobalt let out a high-pitched squeal, beginning to laugh hysterically as she really began kicking and struggling. "STAHAHAHAHAP!! HAHAHAH- N-NOHOHOHOHO!! IT- IT TIHIHICKLES-!!" Kobalt cried out through her laughter, snorting occasionally and letting out a few hiccups. Your heart melted. You had completely forgotten about how cute she was when hysterically cackling like this. You continued to just swirl your finger in her poor bellybutton as you listened to her scream and laugh uncontrollably. "Aww, we've got a wiggler here~!" Your friend teased as they easily held Kobalt's wrists. You smile fondly at her reactions as you reach your free hand up to her armpit, gently scratching and tracing the hollow. Kobalt screamed and arched her back, cackling helplessly as she kicked and bargained for her release. You smiled at her reactions, as your friend who held her arms above her head tickled her right under her chin, causing her to scrunch up her shoulders. "Maybe just for a little while longer, Kobalt~.. After all~.." You paused, wiggling your finger in her bellybutton a little faster. "You can't just wear a crop top aaaaalll day and not expect things like this to happen~.." you taunted. It seemed like you and your friends weren't planning to release poor Kobalt anytime soon, but you knew she didn't mind~. And you sure didn't mind either~.

[moonshine-nightlight]

Would you ever release signed copies of Don't Shoot the Messenger?

the short answer is: yes, i'd love to do signed copies of 'Don't Shoot the Messenger'!

the long answer is: logistics are hard lol. in order for me to hav copies to sign, i'd hav to order author copies from amazon (paying for them in advance personally), sign them, and then mail them to ppl myself. this is definitely doable, but the mechanism for selling since it wouldn't b through amazon itself and actually collecting payment/mailing info would hav to be worked out.

a vague plan that i hav in mind now would be either to just do a limited run where people can essentially pre-order paperbacks via not amazon for lik a month that they were available and then i'd know how much to get and sign etc. i dont hav a patreon so i think i would try to do it through kofi where if u pay a set amount and say its for a signed copy i would then be able to send a signed book to u, after i messaged back for your address to mail it. this would obviously only work small scale but would likely more than suffice for now.

or if i decide to add a hardcover version, i could offer signed hardcovers as a promotion for a similar limited time and via a similar process as above. i'll probably do a poll at some point to see if anyone would even want a hardcover. same for dale

when will i hav the time to look deeper into all this and put it in action? no idea. life's been extremely busy, but its definitely been on my radar and i will try to make it happen in the next coming years.

i suppose if i ever did some sort of in-person book/author event after Dale is out, i might be able to offer signed books in person, but that'd likely b hard to reach for most ppl lol

until then, only one person has a signed copy - one of my beta readers who i thanked in my acknowledgements for being so wonderfully supportive!

[vermillionwinter]

Fever Dream

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian f!reader

Summary: How many chance encounters can you have before you decide fate has intertwined your threads? With the 141 on leave pending an investigation, you appear to Simon, a lighthouse in the distance calling him to safety.

Warnings: Mutual attraction, slow-burn series (our boy's got a lot of work to do), Spicy thoughts-not explicit.

Note: I haven't had the will to write like this in years, but Simon Riley has reawakened a beast, and I need to get all the words out. So, this is a very rusty piece of work, but hope y'all find some enjoyment! Tattoos are the only physical descriptions I believe. the 2nd POV's are bringing me back to middle school Quizilla days.

Quiet. Everything in Simon’s Manchester flat was too fucking quiet, and the air stagnant when he was home. And that silence gave his thoughts the freedom to creep and dance to the murkiest valleys of his subconscious. Wrapping its tarry tendrils around the very memories Simon wanted to keep locked behind the chained door, dragging them out of him to relive every excruciating moment the darkness saw fit to unleash. 

Sitting in the single chair of his small, round table, Simon could catch wafts of soil and decay wrapping him in the tight confines of the damp wooden coffin. His lungs tightened, constricting the oxygen he needed. The fear of no escape webbed its way through the calm fog the prior glass of bourbon provided. It was as if the darkness narrowed in on him, boxing him into the point of full paralysis. The arms of his chairs he gripped tightly in his fists began to transform into the feel of the corpse that once was buried with him. 

HONK!

Simon’s eyes shot open, and he took the deepest breath he could muster as his lungs got used to the feeling of a full inhale and exhale. His eyes darted around in panic taking in every detail of his barren flat. It was sparsely furnished with essentials, one of them being a bed large enough the behemoth of a man could stretch upon comfortably. As comfortable as one could get when they're accustomed to the hard ground or the scantily padded cots.  

Simon shot back the bourbon he originally poured to savor and appreciate relishing in the slow burn it made down his esophagus. What he wouldn’t fucking do to get back out on the field. 

“As soon as we're back, gents, we are boots on the ground finding these bastards. We’ll find Shepherd and every lost Shadow.”

Ghost hadn’t been deployed since he took the last shot at Hassan in Chicago- weeks have passed. Bloody fucking investigation into Shepherd’s and Shadow Company’s off book deals called that all operators on the ops related to Graves’ and Shephard’s stolen missiles had to take mandatory leave pending investigation. Shadows were still getting wrapped up for questioning. There were few still on the run. But they’d find them. They didn’t deserve the courtesy of living their lives in fear. The face of death is all they were due. 

Betrayal. Betrayal got his family killed. Got Simon Riley killed. And now good soldiers lie dead in fields, their graves forever empty; and families lie dead in the streets of Las Almas. Innocent lives taken by those he once defended, defended the 141. 

Glass shattered against the opposite wall before Simon realized he threw the blown sand from his hand. Shoulders sagged, defeated, depleted, ready to give into the quiet of his home. The benched operator stood from his chair and made his way to the shower. He’d clean the mess later. He was alone after all. Always alone. 

Simon walked through the small crowds, prolonging the journey to his destination to walk to a path he didn’t have to squeeze through a throng of people. Wisps of the fresh air sauntered over him, releasing threads of tension into the open. Easing him from looking over his shoulder and checking his surroundings more often than they stayed in front of him. To his relief, no one was following him. Venturing out into society felt like an op in its own way. Having to blend in when you lived your life in anonymity. He wore a different mask in the calm of the world. One fewer people were familiar with than the ominous mask he donned on the field.  

And Las Almas was proof of why. Shephard was a loose-end that needed to be handled yesterday, and Simon couldn’t shake off the constant feeling he would be found. Just as Roba had found him. He couldn’t very well walk around with his most distinguishing feature on full display, a beacon where to strike next. Simon had to stay vigilant. For himself, but most importantly for them. Nothing could get to them. 

Sleep was an elusive luxury Simon would not allow himself since he was dismissed on leave, not that he had the best slumber before then. Running on cat naps, caffeine and spite. The blame and guilt eating away at him, letting those bastards go unseen. And all he wanted was five minutes alone with Shepherd. Ghost wanted the ex-general begging for his life as it left his very body. 

To…

All of Simon's plans of vengeance were halted when you stepped out onto the patio of the bakery he found a form of solace in on leave- emerald lace dress billowing around your body, combat boots peaked through with each step you took. Ethereal. A goddess among man. You were divine and entrancing as you stepped lightly, despite the clunky footwear you chose. He was in the door before he could notice where you sat, but hell he found himself praying at your altar you would be in perfect view. 

La Gouter was one of the few havens Simon had found in the area. The crowd was moderate, but constant. Tea was always fresh, and the man could not resist the warm, buttery treats. Today he sat with a chocolate croissant with his black tea- two sugars, no cream. Balance. 

A book tucked under his arm, he leaned against the mural of Paris- where he had a clear view to the left, right, patio door adjacent to his table, and the entry of the cafe itself. Which also gave him the view of his tea shop muse, and a sudden warmth rushed over him when you looked towards him, eyes honing in on his eyes. Target locked. 

Looking down quickly, he cracked open the book that accompanied him. Laying there waiting to be read, to transport the reader to another realm. A world where he didn’t have to be Simon Riley. Now he could get lost in the spice filled sands of Arrakis. Simon let his eyes settle on the pages behind the orange cover. 

Twenty pages in, half the tea gone, he felt his eyes drifting again. Black nails adorned your lithe fingers-wrapped around a pen you used to write in the notebook splayed on the table. Legs shifting, the slit of your dress exposed more tattoos scattered on your smooth leg. Wouldn't it be nice to run his fingers over the lines of each piece of art that was displayed there? To feel those hands wrapped around him instead? To lay you out in front of him the way your notebook was exposed to you. Lines of intrigue covering both flesh and paper. He wanted to know the webs of thought spinning from your head to paper. The sounds your lips would release at his touches. Were they soft and airy? Low and rough?

Fuck, he shook himself from the lasvicious thoughts (swirling in his head) throwing back the rest of his tea that he dearly wished was bourbon, and left for the gate. But as he threw his trash into the bin, he had that feeling. There was an energy when eyes bore into you. Watched your every move, like you were prey. Their target . Taking in even the smallest of twitches.

Chalked it up to being on edge after Las Almas, but fuck he needed to get back to his flat now. What if Shephard had found him? Ghost had no shortage of enemies that would crave nothing more than to spill his blood. Were the others still alive? Gaz. Price. Soap. But Simon wasn't met with a bullet when he turned around to face whoever was trailing him. No. Simon found curious eyes glistening in the sun- following his every move. Down to the smallest twitch.

Simon felt his heart stutter, a catch in his throat when you flashed a disarming smile, painted in dark red. Stomach in unfamiliar knots, he froze for a moment soaking in your warmth in the moment of vulnerability. He wanted that warmth to blanket him in its softest rays. It was terribly disarming. Blinking out of his stupor, he found tantalizing eyes paired with a shy smile greeting him. But, the brute didn’t know how to respond; his mind was still in conflict. And he left without another glance in your direction, all the while wondering how someone could glow in the dull skies of London. There was enough sunlight to bathe you in its golden rays. The shimmer upon your skin was like nothing Simon had ever seen, your beauty enraptured him. 

You watched the giant of a man turn-hands shoved in his pockets-and leave the cafe, and you couldn’t help the appreciative gaze as your eyes roamed the backside of the man who stopped dead in his tracks and stared at you for an agonizingly small amount of time. Whom you had caught staring at you minutes ago. His gaze, through red lenses, overwhelmed you, a vehement aura exuding and reaching.

He was statuesque, a gargoyle in the flesh wrapped in the darkness of his fabrics, sitting at the small metal table against the bright paints of the Paris mural. You certainly appreciated the contrast. Auburn beard covered a strong jaw, but his face was mostly obscured by the black Everton cap and red lensed shades. The hoodie did little to conceal the firm bulk of his arms, broad shoulders. When he broke eye contact to read his book, shades went to his hat, but angled his face to further obscure your view. A shiver chilled you. Why was he hiding? But you didn’t let your attention linger, though you did want to. You wanted to watch him read, and immerse himself in whatever tale he was venturing through.  

In. Out. In. Out.

The mantra on loop to keep his thoughts focused. Singular. Not focused on red lips pressed against his neck. Teeth grazing a path over a protruding vein. So he ran faster. Faster. Faster, until all he could think about was how to get enough oxygen to his lungs, Lamb of God blasting through his headphones. The opening notes of Walk with Me In Hell leading him through the end of his run. Spent. Overexerted. Exactly what he needed. He’d finally sleep, and just not fucking care what happened next.

Simon released a breath he had not realized he was holding until it left him. Disappointed relief. The tea shop siren was absent from his visit. It was strange. The wanton desire to be in the presence of another being. He was used to alone. It was easier to work when you didn’t have the reminder of how many lives were in your hands. It was effective, and he was damn good at it. You had his mind in a whirlwind of confusion. Not even the women he's fucked stayed with him the way you have. You've never even said a damn word to him, and he was crumbling. Under a spell you were unaware you cast. Synthesizing his dreams to your every whim.

“Fucking Christ.” A soft growl met his ears, eyes slid toward the culprit. And there you were, just as gorgeous and warm without the infrared glow of the burning star above. Even with the snarl across your painted lips, coffee spilled in front of you as you picked up the few items you dropped. The espresso color accentuated the shape of your plush lips, and he wanted to know what the supple flesh felt like between his teeth, tongue sliding in sync with yours. And fucking hell he’s heard your voice, further fueling his mind. Simon’s base instincts were bleeding through more than he would care to admit. Like some horny school boy seeing tits for the first time. He didn’t care for it, wanted it gone. Made him feel compromised. It was consuming him in a time he couldn’t afford distractions. When could he ever?

Your morning started out shit, and seemed to become progressively shittier. You had an assignment due by midnight. The internet at your place was out, and the company had been very little help with an ETA. It had been your day off, but Deana was out with some virus her kid picked up from school and you were the lucky winner to be on rotation that week for the store. All you wanted was the comfort and warmth of a white chocolate mocha, and now that was also ruined as the caffeinated beverage seeped into the porous concrete of the patio. 

You had been set and determined to complete your assignment covering the impact commercial farming has had on the environment and global economics. Then, you saw him. Shades sat atop his same hat, the once full beard had been trimmed, hugging the shapely jaw. You liked it, so much so that you stumbled on a table, coffee slipping from your hands.

You wanted to scream, cry, kick the chair, but instead you blinked back the tears and picked the empty cup from the puddle of cream, sugar and caffeine. Feeling like a bloody idiot for being that damn distracted by a bloke you’ve not actually seen yet. If he walked around without the hate and sunnies, you’d most likely not realize it was him. But hell if the mystery wasn’t all the more enticing.

 You sighed, paying no more mind to the gargantuan on your left-dizzy from the distractions- and set your workstation. Three hours. That’s all you had before your shift at the shop.

You sat with one earbud playing music as you began cycling through your notes finding topic points and sub plots for your outline. The angelic voice of Florence Welsh guiding you through the motions of the ebb and flow of your homework routine. And deep in your concentration and will to see this task complete, you did not notice a dark figure leaving its perch. 

“Excuse me?” you looked to see one of the younger baristas standing with a coffee. “Uh…some dude ordered this for you, and wanted me to bring it out to you?” 

You quirked a brow taking the drink from the nervous kid and thanked them. When they skittered back into the building you took a look around seeing Paris missing one of its Gargoyles of Notre Dame.  A jolt of excitement warmed you when the sweet velvet flow of the caffeine hit your tongue. A perfect coffee to lift your spirits from a perfect stranger.