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perotovar · 1 year ago

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ásjá - a winter solstice story

Ásjá by Heilung (i highly recommend listening to this while reading)

Our second single release is a love song. Maria sings to the listener of love, recovery and prosperity, chasing away evil and welcoming love. The piece contains a quotation of some lines of “Hávamál”, combined with a selection of blessing words meant to provide help to the listener in a troubled time. Kai brought his vocal part of 'Asja' back to us after a month of isolation, fasting and meditation in nature. Only the spirits know the full meaning, but we do know that the context is love, prosperity and protection.

pairing: pero tovar/ofc!helga (but this is mostly a character study) rating: T word count: 7.4k (idk what happened here) warnings: minor swearing, google translated spanish (sorry), historical inaccuracies in favor of fantasy/magic, my american norse pagan perspective of these practices, if i missed anything else lemme know! dividers by @saradika-graphics beta and norwegian translations by the lovely @chloeangelic thank you, honey ♥

summary: Pero picks up a contract that leads him "somewhere up North", but what he finds instead is unlike anything he imagined for himself. Or, what would happen if Pero encountered the Vikings during their winter celebration?

this is apart of @hellishjoel's 12 days of pedro. thank you for including me, kylee, and make sure you all read the other presents!

god jól, everyone🌲❄️🌙🐺

It was fucking cold.

With shaking hands and numb limbs, Pero made his way further up the hill. The wind picked up the further he went into the trees.

The contract he’d taken up was for a man by the name of Ingvar. A strange name to Pero’s ears, but that hardly mattered to him. This Ingvar was to be taken care of, and Pero had to show proof.

Not a problem.

The problem, at least for the moment, was the fucking weather and his own lack of foresight. He was told that Ingvar was “somewhere up North”, and that was it. He didn’t exactly plan for just how cold it would be. His fingers were going numb and red, and he saw every breath that left his lungs. If William were here, he’d tell Pero to quit his “bitching” and to make camp.

The camp, he could do. The bitching? Unlikely.

Pero and William separated after the… events in China. They stayed together to do a few jobs together, but William decided to make his way back to China and meet up with Lin Mae again, possibly even settle down. Pero didn’t fancy seeing the people that had arrested and almost killed him, and black powder wasn’t worth the trouble anymore. At least not to him. He rather liked the uncertainty of his job. Found comfort in it, in fact. His future was set for him in this line of work. He would live doing the things he loved most; fighting, fucking, and drinking. And the ending was always the same. At least, that’s what he told himself.

A low whisper brought Pero out of his thoughts. He snapped his head towards the direction of the sound and furrowed his already heavy brow. The sound of a raven cawing caught his attention, making him hum skeptically to himself before deciding this was as good a spot as any for a fire.

Once settled on a fallen tree and attempting to warm his hands with his meager fire, Pero dug into his travel pack. He grumbled at the pitiful excuse for food he had left. He grabbed a piece of thick, dry bread and started ripping off chunks and eating that. Perhaps he could hunt? Find a rabbit, or something a little bigger. He remembered to make a bow this time. Swallowing the last chunk of the bread, he picked up his bow and arrows, and threw his cloak-slash-blanket over his shoulders. It was going to be dark soon, and he didn’t like the idea of starving his first night in this frozen Northern hell.

Another whisper.

Pero’s body went taut. He looked between the tall trees and the endless sea of white ahead of him. Nothing. A rabbit hopped by, distracting him. Before he could think too hard, he knocked an arrow and let fly. The arrow landed in the snow just after the rabbit hopped away.

“Mierda,” he grumbled. (Shit.)

He crouched low and slowly followed after the rabbit. He made his way toward a small clearing, which seemed to be in the center of the forest, if his tracking skills were getting any better.

There was a large stone in the middle, towards the top of the clearing. There looked to be a large blood stain in the center of it. Pero raised a brow and grunted quietly. This was none of his business, clearly.

Suddenly, the rabbit made its way to the middle of the clearing, next to the large stone. Pero sighed and lined up a shot, hoping for the best. He released a breath at the same time that the arrow left his fingers, and another whisper passed through his ears.

He gasped quietly and time seemed to stop as the arrow traveled through the cold air. A shiver ran down his spine that had nothing to do with the weather. He closed his eyes and let out a heavy breath, trying to make himself as still as possible.

The sound of the arrow piercing the rabbit startled him out of his frozen state. He blinked a few times, the white forest coming back into view as he looked down at the dead rabbit in the clearing. He exhaled and slowly stood, settling his bow on his shoulder. He looked around again, and when he saw nothing, slowly made his way down the hill and towards the center of the clearing.

He picked up the dead rabbit and removed the arrow, tucking it into his belt to clean and use again later. Standing in the center of the clearing, he looked over at the bloodstained stone and felt that shiver go down his spine again. He looked up at the gray sky and decided it was time to go back to his camp. He hooked the rabbit’s carcass onto his belt, pulled the cloak over his shoulders tighter, and shoved his hands inside the fabric.

“Maldita nieve,” he grumbled to himself. (Fucking snow.) As he climbed back up the hill, he felt a sharp pain in his foot and lost his balance, catching himself with his hands in the snow. He hissed loudly and looked down at his boot. A small spike was poking out through the top, meaning the sharp rock was piercing through his foot. He groaned and leaned against the hill, steadying his breathing. He counted to three in his head and yanked the rock from his foot. “Fuck,” he exhaled loudly, a few drops of his own blood covering his palm as he looked at the rock. A small symbol was carved into it, making him squint his eyes, trying to decipher what it was. Pero shook his head and sighed, pocketing the strange rock to inspect later.

On his way back to his little camp, limping the whole way to not put too much pressure on his foot, he grabbed some branches to make the fire last a little longer. Once the meager fire came into view, he swore he saw someone sitting on the log he was using before. He froze in place, heavy boots landing in the snow abruptly. He squinted his eyes and grew confused. An old man? What would he be doing out here?

Pero looked around the frozen forest to see if there was anyone that could be with the old man. When he didn’t see anyone, he looked back at the campfire, and the old man was gone. He’d completely vanished. Pero grunted quietly and rubbed his eyes with frozen fingers. He shook his head to snap himself out of it and made his way over to the campfire.

After putting the rabbit on the spit and it started to cook, Pero made his bed for the night. He’d do his best to sleep, but didn’t have high hopes. Once the rabbit was cooked, he stabbed it with his knife and started eating it messily. He groaned at the taste of fresh, hot, cooked meat and enjoyed it, even if it was pretty bland. It warmed his bones a little and made him more comfortable, pulling the cloak tighter around his shoulders.

The sound of a branch snapping behind him went unnoticed by Pero’s ears, too focused on the food. He hadn’t eaten in days. The second snap, however, was heard, and it made him drop the rabbit onto the ground and grab his sword, brandishing it in front of him as he stood.

“¿Dónde estás, bastardo?” He grumbled under his breath, his heavy breaths puffing out into smoke. (Where are you, bastard?)

He sighed in frustration when he didn’t see anything. He was seriously starting to consider if this contract was even worth it. And if it wasn’t, would he be able to make it back without dying? Either from the cold, or whatever it was that was playing with him. He mumbled obscenities to himself and sat back down on his fallen tree.

He picked up the rabbit and groaned at the dirt now covering it. He blew off what he could and decided to continue eating it, dirt be damned. He was hungry.

Once full, he looked up at the moon in the sky, trying to figure out how late it was. He rubbed his hands over his arms to keep warm and added a branch or two to his fire. He grabbed a piece of spare cloth from his travel pack and quickly wrapped his foot. He laid down next to the fire and pulled the cloak up over his shoulders and shut his eyes. He didn’t feel tired, but he couldn’t help closing his eyes. He tried to fight it, to keep his guard up, but it was useless.

He started to feel lightheaded and turned onto his back, looking up at the moon again. The moon and the stars, so bright he almost didn’t need the campfire, were swirling around and moving in close and further away. The trees surrounding him looked to be moving side to side.

What was happening? Did the old man poison him somehow? Who was that old man?

His vision went blurry and he felt like he was spinning in place despite laying on the ground, completely still. He let out a weak groan and tried to move, reaching for his sword.

The last thing he saw before his vision went black, was the silhouette of a large dog, or perhaps a wolf, in the distance hidden behind the trees.

Warmth. He felt warm. And a pounding headache.

Pero slowly blinked awake and groaned at the light that hit his eyes. The smell of cooked meat and root vegetables hit his nostrils. His stomach whined in protest.

“For en merkelig fyr…” An older male voice said, somewhere behind him. (He is a strange one…)

“Kjekk, da,” A younger, female voice replied. (Handsome, though.)

He didn’t understand any of it. It wasn’t a language he’d heard before. Eyelids fluttering, he slowly opened his eyes to a small gathering of people all looking down at him. He startled and reached for his knife, and grunted when he didn’t feel it.

“Vi har våpnene dine. De er trygge.” (We have your weapons. They’re safe.)

Pero turned his head in the direction of the voice and squinted his eyes at the woman. She looked to be in her 30s, with a baby attached to her breast and drinking.

“No entiendo,” he grumbled, voice hoarse from lack of use. “¿Dónde estoy?” (I do not understand. Where am I?)

He took in his surroundings, now sitting up, and saw that he looked to be in a small room cut off from a much larger group of people. He heard laughter and song outside the cloth separating the, assumed, larger hall from where he was now. He furrowed his brows. A celebration? What for?

“¿Dónde estoy?” He repeated, voice slightly harsher. (Where am I?)

“Har ikke hørt det språket før,” one of the men said. (Haven’t heard that tongue before.) Pero looked up at him and squinted his eyes slightly. The man was large, with a full beard, and an even fuller middle. But there was no denying his strength; age hadn’t stopped this man from doing well in a fight, Pero assumed. Not that he couldn’t take him, of course. He looked at the man’s belt and saw a one-handed axe attached to his belt and thought better of it, especially without his own weapons.

Suddenly a small sting came from his foot and he snapped his head down at the young woman tending to the wound he’d gotten on his way back from the clearing. He’d almost completely forgotten about it, too cold to even really feel it. The young woman startled and blushed, keeping her head down as she cleaned the cut.

“Det er et vakkert språk, da, er det ikke?” The first younger woman’s voice came through, a slightly entranced tone to it. (It is a beautiful tongue, though, no?) He looked to his left and saw her batting her eyelashes at him. He huffed a breath in amusement. He’d had his fair share of women giving him looks like that, almost always with a payment in mind, but his thoughts were elsewhere, even if it did feel nice. And she was a tad too skinny for his own tastes.

Pero exhaled. This was clearly getting nowhere. Fine. “Where am I? You know English, yes?” He asked, exasperated, in the general direction of anyone who might be able to answer him.

The shy girl cleaning his wound lifted her head and smiled softly at him. “I know a little,” she said quietly, her voice heavily accented.

“Finally,” he sighed. “What is going on?”

“A few of our men found you in the forest, passed out. Your lips were blue.” She won’t make eye contact with him, bur her brows furrowed like she was worried for him. “We have lost some of our own men in a similar way before. It is not pretty.”

Pero hummed softly and nodded his thanks. “Did any of them see an old man? In the woods?”

The girl tilted her head and asked the man next to him, the one with the axe in his belt, if any of them had seen such a man. The man raised a brow and shook his head, looking at Pero skeptically.

“Ingvar says–”

“Yes, I understood, thank you–” Pero cut himself off and looked back at the man with the axe. This was Ingvar? Pero looked back at the girl and nodded his head as she bandaged his wound, his own cloth wrapped around his ankle. He would have to be careful if he was to carry out this contract. “Thank you,” he repeated, the words foreign on his tongue.

The girl nodded, cheeks pink, and stood to leave. As she left, the cloth covering them moved to show a large fire in the middle of the hall with an even larger feast around it. The girl came back with a tankard of something for him and he took it gratefully. As the sweet liquid hit his tongue, he coughed slightly.

“What is this?” He wheezed a little, looking at the cup like it slapped his mother.

The girl giggled before saying, “Mead. It is honey wine.”

Pero rolled the words around his tongue for a moment. “Interesante,” he hummed to himself. (Interesting.)

“Vel, han er våken. Tilby ham noe å spise, men hold øye på ham. Han ser ut som en leiesoldat, og jeg stoler ikke på ham,” Ingvar grunted, leaving the room and rejoining the festivities. (Well, he is up. Invite him to eat, but keep an eye on him. He looks like a mercenary and I do not trust him.)

Pero watched him closely as he left, and took another drink of his mead, eyes hard.

“Would you like some food, mister-”

“Tovar,” Pero grunted. “Yes. I am very hungry.” He turned on the cot and got to his feet quickly, but quickly lost his balance, a couple of the women catching him as he stood on shaky legs. He sighed in frustration and stood on his own, shrugging off their help. The girl held her arm out to him, and didn’t seem too offended when he just stared at it.

“Tovar. This way,” she smiled, her face a little pinched.

“What are you celebrating?” He asked, looking around at all the food. His stomach roared at the smells.

“It is the third night of Jól. You have heard of Jól?” She asked excitedly, turning to him as she found a place for him to sit. He slowly made his way down at a long table nearby where Ingvar sat at the head of the table. A leader. This contract was getting more difficult by the second.

“I have not,” he grumbled. “What is this… Yool?”

The girl giggled again, this time at his attempt at the word. “Jól is the celebration that welcomes back the sun from the harsh Winter. Our crops start growing as the sun comes back, and the snow melts away.”

Pero hummed as he listened, nodding his thanks when she handed him a full plate of different meats, root vegetables, bread, and cheese. “You are farmers?”

The girl nods. “Most of us. Some are warriors.”

Pero hummed again, chewing on a piece of meat. “How did you learn English?”

The girl turned a little sad, but smiled anyway. “We used to have a man that came from… Eng-land? He died last year,” she sighed. “He taught me and a few of the children how to read and speak English. How did you learn?”

Pero frowned around his food and sighed.

“I am sorry, forget–” Pero held up a hand to stop her. “Apologies. I am… unused to kindness from strangers,” he grunted, not meeting her eyes. “A dear friend of mine is from Scotland. We have separated so he could be with his woman. He taught me.”

“Scotland?”

“It is near England.”

She nodded, slowly picking at her own food. The two of them grew quiet and just ate for a while. The celebrations continued around them, and it gave Pero a chance to take it all in.

In the center of the hall was a large hearth, with an even larger tree in the middle, lighting up the hall. It looked like the one he was using earlier as a bench, so they must have gotten it from the same forest. He can’t be too far from there, then. There were candles and flames everywhere, lighting up the hall brightly, but warmly.

He looked back at the girl and found her already staring at him. She startled, cheeks going pink again, and looked down at her food. He smirked a little, but hid it well. She was amusing.

“What is your name?” He asked.

“Sigrid,” she said softly.

“It sounds strong.”

“Yes. I am more drawn to medicine, so I suppose the name is ironic.”

Pero chuckled. “Hardly.”

Sigrid smiled up at him. “Thank you.”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of them again before Pero asked, “Who is Ingvar? He seems like a powerful man.”

“He is our Jarl. Our leader.”

“Is this like a king?” Pero furrowed his brows. He didn’t think this contract would be finished.

“Not exactly. But no less powerful.”

“I see,” Pero grunted. As if on cue, Ingvar stood from his seat at the head of the table, a large grin on his bearded face.

“Venner! Kvelden er ung, og festen er rik. Vær så snill, nyt, for mine gamle beindekk. Jeg ser dere alle i morgen tidlig.” Everyone raised their drinks and shouted… something, but Pero didn’t catch it. Sigrid leaned over and translated what Ingvar said for him. He nodded his thanks, but he was skeptical at best. Ingvar left through a door behind the throne that sat in the center of the hall. (Friends! The night is young, and the feast bountiful. Please, enjoy, for my old bones tire. I will see you all in the morning.)

“He cannot be that old, no?”

“He has been around much longer than I,” Sigrid shrugged. Pero laughed softly, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“You are a child, of course he has.”

Sigrid rolled her eyes, but didn’t deny it. “If seventeen winters makes me a child, then yes.”

Pero choked on his mead and hit his chest to keep from coughing too hard. “Yes, it does,” he wheezed, laughing quietly. Sigrid laughed, too, eating some bread and cheese. A small child ran up to Sigrid and asked her a question as he tugged on her dress. Sigrid looked back at Pero apologetically and he waved her off, eating some more meat.

This was hardly the setting he expected for himself when he took the contract, but he couldn’t deny it, it was a pleasant one. The food was good, and the people seemed friendly enough. He couldn’t help but be confused by the contract; who was dumb enough to put a hit out on a powerful leader like Ingvar?

Sigrid mentioned that some of them were warriors. That didn’t surprise him at all. Just by looking at the people around the table, men and women alike, he could’ve figured that out on his own.

He sighed to himself and chewed thoughtfully. Suddenly, he remembered the small stone that pierced his foot. He looked around at the people around him to be sure no one was watching before he felt around his pocket for the stone. When he didn’t feel anything, his body went taut and he froze. Shit. They probably found it when they grabbed his weapons. Where were his weapons?

Sigrid came up to his side with the small child from before holding her hand and looking at him from behind her. “Tovar?” She asked softly. He looked up at her, heavy brow still pulled down. She gave him a quick once-over before clearing her throat. “We have sleeping quarters for you, but Lord Ingvar wishes to speak with you first.”

Pero chuckled humorlessly around his food before putting it down on his plate. He grabbed the mead and took a drink, making a face at the taste. He wasn’t sure he’d get used to that anytime soon. “Of course he does,” he sighed. “You will translate for me?”

Sigrid nodded, braided blonde hair swinging with the movement, and looked like she was trying to steel herself. He admired her mettle.

Pero followed after her, keeping light pressure on his foot as they went through that door Ingvar went through before. It led down a short hallway and ended up in a large bedroom. Ingvar was sitting on the edge of the bed before standing tall and fixing Pero with a hard look. Pero grunted and rested a hand on his hip as he leaned on the uninjured foot, waiting to get this over with.

“Hva heter du?” Ingvar grunted. (What is your name?)

“He asked your name,” Sigrid said softly.

“Tovar,” Pero narrowed his eyes.

“Hvorfor er du her?” (Why are you here?)

Sigrid translated quietly.

“Your people brought me here. I was wondering the same thing,” Pero shrugged with an attitude. Ingvar gave him a look, clearly unimpressed. Pero rolled his eyes.

Ingvar looked at Sigrid and she blushed, nodding. “He didn’t mean–”

“Yes, I know what he meant,” Pero sighed. “I had a contract. I came to fulfill that contract.”

Sigrid spoke quietly and Ingvar seemed tired as he nodded.

“Var navnet mitt på denne kontrakten?” Ingvar sighed. Pero gave Sigrid a look as she quickly translated. (Did this contract have my name on it?)

“It did…” Pero raised a brow, crossing his arms over his chest. Ingvar nodded again, but Pero spoke up before he could say anything. “I decided not to complete the contract when I saw your celebration and… status. I may be a mercenary, but I am no fool. I do not go after lords or kings.”

Ingvar raised a brow and chuckled quietly before letting out a loud, hearty laugh. “Jeg vet ikke om du er smart eller dum,” Ingvar smiled, cheeks flushed with mirth. “Jeg takker deg, men tilgi meg for at jeg ikke stoler på deg helt, Tovar.” (I do not know if you are smart or stupid. I thank you. But you will forgive me for not completely trusting you, Tovar.)

Pero nodded and shrugged. “I understand.”

Sigrid looked between the two of them, looking much less nervous. She quickly spoke to Ingvar quietly, asking him a question. Ingvar nodded, a small smile on his lips.

“Nyt festen, Tovar. Vi diskuterer hva vi skal gjøre med deg om morgenen.” (Enjoy the festivities, Tovar. We will discuss what to do with you in the morning.)

“I wish to leave,” Pero grunted, looking between Sigrid and the Jarl. Sigrid looked a little crestfallen, but took one more look at Ingvar before he waved them off. She pushed Pero out of the Jarl’s quarters and back out into the celebration. “Sigrid?” Pero asked, confused.

She sighed before looking up at him. “The Jarl wishes to keep you here until Jól ends. To keep an eye on you, make sure you keep your word.” She started wringing her hands together and bit her lip.

“How much longer is Yool?”

Sigrid went quiet.

“Sigrid.”

“Nine more days,” she sighed, looking down.

Pero’s eyes went wide before he shut them and sighed heavily. He looked up at the ceiling and mumbled, “Joder yo,” under his breath. (Fuck me.) “Fine. Nine more days and I will leave.”

Over the course of the first four days, Pero was treated like he belonged with these people. He still didn’t quite know where he was. If someone were to give him a map, he couldn’t tell them, but he knew he was probably at the top somewhere. He was shocked at how much he liked it there despite the bitter cold.

He felt eyes on him the whole time and he didn’t like the feeling, but he understood it.

He taught Sigrid and some of the children some Spanish words and in turn he was taught some words in their tongue. Norse, he was told.

Pero also found himself helping the warriors Sigrid mentioned before, called Vikingr. Their job was to sail to faraway lands, raid strangers of their belongings, and bring it back home. He didn’t judge. He’d done worse, and frankly, it sounded like something right up his alley. He mostly helped with keeping their longships cleaned for their next raid when the snow thawed.

And he ate. He ate a lot. There was so much food at the feasts in the evenings. He tried to eat as much as he could in the hopes that it would carry him on his journey home. Wherever that was. Every feast started with a chant and “offerings” to their Gods. Some of these “offerings” came in the form of the mead Pero had - reluctantly - grown to like, and other times it came in the form of one of the farmer’s poor goats.

While he didn’t understand a lot of these people’s customs, he couldn’t deny it, they were a hearty people.

He’d also caught the eye of some of the women there, too, but he mostly ignored them. They were all too young for him, and he was too busy not getting killed. He still wasn’t given back his weapons. Or the strange stone. His wound would take a while to heal yet, but he could put pressure on it again.

On the fifth day, he was helping chop wood for people’s homes. During the feast, everyone in the village congregated in the Jarl’s home to be surrounded by the fire given by the Jól Log and enjoy the food, but they all needed wood for their own homes as well.

He stopped to take a break and wiped the sweat from his brow as a cool chill blew past him. Pero looked to his left, the feeling of someone looking at him catching his attention. When he saw it wasn’t one of Ingvar’s men, he startled a little. It was a woman. Older than the ones that mostly watched him, and far more… Interesting. To him, at least. He raised a brow as she turned and left, clutching her basket closer to her body. He’d seen her around during his time there and she seemed to keep mostly to herself. She was unattached from what he could tell, and wondered why. She was beautiful.

Pero snapped himself out of it and shook his head, going back to chopping the wood.

On the sixth day, he saw her again. He’d asked Sigrid what her name was as he saw her making her way through the market, and she said it was Helga.

Helga.

He liked the name.

Helga was a thread-weaver. She made blankets, scarves, anything to keep one warm and covered. Pero was given clothing that suited the temperature better, and he felt strange without his armor, but he was never given a scarf. He didn’t think he’d ever wanted one before now.

He asked Sigrid if she could ask Helga for him for a scarf, and the girl giggled, pushing him toward the woman. He sighed and walked over to her, looking at the weapons and tools surrounding them at the market. He tried not to make himself too obvious, and it mostly worked, he thought. He was genuinely impressed with the craftsmanship of the weapons.

Pero sidled up to Helga’s side, but before he could say anything, she stepped away from the stand and walked back to her house. He watched her go and frowned.

This was going to be tougher than he thought.

The seventh day was much like the day before, but instead of chopping wood, Pero was asked to help around the Jarl’s home. He noticed a lot of the young women that stared at him worked there, so he tried to keep mostly to himself. He’d never cleaned linens or blankets before, but found it to be quite relaxing. There was a rhythm to it, and he could do it without much help.

“Tovar,” a young voice asked from his left. He looked up, finishing the fold of the blanket he was holding. He grunted in acknowledgement. “Jeg og noen av kvinnene har lurt på noe,” the girl was blushing hard up to her ears and biting her lip. (Some of the women and I have been wondering something.)

Pero smirked a little and nodded for her to continue. He picked up on the gist of what she was saying, thanks to Sigrid’s teachings of Norse.

“Hvor fikk du arret fra?” she asked meekly. (Where did you get your scar?)

Pero’s face pinched slightly and he shook his head. “I do not wish to talk about it.” The girl’s eyes went wide and she started scrambling out apologies, her hand pressed to her chest. A sad smile crossed his features before he shook his head. “It is okay,” he said quietly.

The girl frowned, cheeks bright red, but nodded as she turned and left. Pero exhaled quietly and looked down at the linens he was folding.

“I do not believe she meant any harm,” a low, feminine voice said to his left. He hummed in acknowledgement before he froze, realizing that she spoke perfect English. He turned his head and nearly jumped out of his boots when he saw Helga standing there. She smiled and started helping him with the linens. “Tovar, yes?”

Pero huffed a laugh and nodded.

“I have noticed you watching me.” She had a soft smile on her lips, brown hair pulled away from her face in a braid. She turned to look at him, blue eyes full of heat as she looked over his face and chest.

Pero blinked, eyes slightly wider. He went to speak, but all that came out was a croak, making him cough. “Apologies,” he wheezed, the side of his fist pressed to his chest. “I am sorry for staring,” he mumbled, turning back to his own linens as his cheeks flushed. “I am still getting used to the customs here. There are two days left of your celebration, and I will be gone.”

Helga hummed noncommittally and pushed her small stack of folded linens toward him to add to his pile. “That would be a shame.”

Pero furrowed his brows and added her stack to his. He looked at her incredulously, but her head was faced down as she continued folding. He didn’t say anything and continued as well, his thoughts running a mile a minute.

“I thought only Sigrid and a few of the children spoke English,” he said after a few moments of silence.

“They are not the only ones.”

Pero snorted and shook his head. “Clearly not,” he hummed to himself. He cleared his throat and glanced at her before continuing. “When I arrived at this place, I was in the forest. I am not sure how far it is from here, but I saw an old man,” he started, keeping his eyes downward. “I was hoping I would see him here in the village, but I have not.”

Helga hummed a noise for him to continue.

“He wore a cloak, the hood covering his head. He sat in front of my campfire, but I only saw one of his eyes,” Pero’s brows furrowed further, confusion filling his head. “I am not sure if he was missing one or if it was covered.”

Helga stopped folding and looked at him, a small smirk on her lips. “Did he have a long beard?”

Pero looked up and blinked. “Y-yes. You have seen this man?”

“Once or twice,” she said. “He is a wanderer. He does not stay in one place for very long.”

“Who is he?”

Helga bit her lip and shrugged. “He has many names. We cannot be certain which he likes best.”

Pero sighed in frustration. “Why was he at my camp?”

Helga smirked again and finished folding her linens. “Perhaps he was looking out for you,” she shrugged again, leaning over to pick up her basket of fabrics. “Enjoy the feast tonight.” She grinned and left the Jarl’s home, leaving Pero quiet and watching her retreating form.

Pero exhaled and looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head. When he looked down, there was a scarf folded on top of her pile of linens.

“Du får tingene dine i morgen, etter den siste festen,” Ingvar grumbled. (You will receive your belongings after tomorrow’s final feast.)

“Must I stay the whole time? I wish to return home,” Pero growled, crossing his arms over his chest. Not that he had a home to return to.

Ingvar rolled his eyes and waved him off. Sigrid grabbed his elbow and pulled him out of the Jarl’s bedroom. Pero grumbled obscenities in Spanish to himself until he was sat at a table in the hall. It was the eighth night, and he was getting tired of being watched constantly. He had no intention of hurting anyone here. He might if they didn’t give him his things, though. The people around him continued to have the same energy this night that they always seemed to. He supposed that came from actually understanding what you were celebrating, and not having to worry about death or arrest at every corner.

“You leave tomorrow evening, yes?”

Pero startled and looked to his right. Helga sat next to him, a plate of food in front of her. She smiled warmly at him and he softened. “How do you do that?” He huffed a laugh and shook his head before grabbing a piece of meat and eating it.

“You do not pay attention,” she said simply.

He squinted his eyes at her and grumbled around his food that he did too pay attention, thank you very much. She laughed softly and it made him bite his tongue. She had been nothing but kind to him while he was there and she didn’t deserve the frustration he felt to be forced on her.

“Where do you live?” Helga asked softly. “Where will you go?”

Pero bit his lip as he tore a piece of bread in two. “Nowhere. I am a mercenary. I go where the work is,” he shrugged, shoving the bread in his mouth.

“You enjoy this?”

Pero raised a brow as he chewed.

“You like not having anywhere to call home? You do not have to leave,” she hummed around her own food, taking a drink of some mead.

“What do you mean? Of course I do,” he scoffed. “Ingvar wants me dead. His men are constantly watching me.”

Helga rolled her eyes. “You really do not pay attention,” she sighed, setting down her cup and turning to face him. “You have not heard how people talk about you?”

“I am still learning the language,” he frowned, chewing messily and lips greasy.

“Why are you learning the language if you want to leave?”

Pero blinked and looked down at his plate. He frowned, thinking about it. Why was he learning the language?

“Because you like it here, Tovar,” she said softly. “We like you.” It went unsaid, but he got the feeling that she liked him, too.

“Pero.”

“What?”

“My name is Pero.”

Helga smiled, pink dusting her cheeks. “I do not think you will have many people protesting if you stay. The children love you. And I think you would make an excellent Viking.”

Pero raised a brow and exhaled, thinking about it. Having a place to call his own would be nice. And he was familiar with the kind of work the warriors did, from what he’d heard.

“You do not have long to think about it, Pero,” Helga hummed. She picked up her plate and stood before leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. “I would like it if you stayed,” she whispered into his ear. He looked up at her with soft eyes and she smiled down at him with her hand on his shoulder before turning and leaving.

Pero shut his eyes and exhaled once again, then looked in the direction of the Jarl’s personal quarters.

Would it be such a terrible thing to stay?

On the ninth day, Pero woke with a startle. He thought he’d heard a whisper next to his ear again. He’d been mostly dreamless while he was in the village. Last night, after his talk with Helga, he dreamt about the old man and the wolf in the woods. He didn’t understand any of it, and he barely remembered what the dream actually entailed, but he remembered the feeling. He felt… odd. Not bad or wrong. Just… different. Comforting.

As he got dressed in the clothes that were given to him, he looked over at the scarf Helga gave him. It was a brown color and the material was rough, but also thick and soft. It kept his ears warm. He wrapped it around his neck before slipping his feet into his boots, making sure to be careful of his injured one. He made his way over to the Jarl’s quarters and knocked on the door.

“Er du sikker?” (Are you sure?)

Pero nodded, arms crossed over his chest. “Yes.”

Ingvar sighed and crossed his arms, too. “Du forvirrer meg, Tovar. Men hvis dette virkelig er det du vil, tror jeg ikke at jeg ser noe problem med det.” He shrugged and looked at Sigrid’s smiling face. “Gå og hent tingene hans.” (You confuse me, Tovar. But if this is truly what you want, I don’t suppose I see a problem with it. Go get his things.)

Sigrid nodded happily and ran from the room. Pero and Ingvar awkwardly avoided eye contact. Even if neither of them were enemies, the circumstances of their acquaintanceship were less than ideal. When Sigrid returned, she was carrying Pero’s weapons in both arms and looked to be struggling to do so.

Pero furrowed his brows and gently took the weapons from her. She sighed in relief, but smiled shyly up at him. “I am happy you decided to stay,” she giggled.

Pero smiled down at her, then gave a grateful nod to Ingvar before leaving the room. Sigrid walked next to him while he attached his sword and hunting knife to his belt. He carried the armor under his left arm. “Me too,” he grunted awkwardly. “I am unsure how I will fit in, but…” He shrugged, scratching the back of his neck.

“I think you will be fine,” she nodded, sure of herself. One of the small children, a younger brother of hers he found out, came up to her and tugged on her dress. He mumbled something Pero didn’t quite catch. Sigrid tapped on his shoulder to get Pero’s attention, making him look down at the two of them, dark eyes intimidating, but soft. “She lives at the end of the village,” Sigrid winked, then took off with her younger brother.

Pero’s cheeks flushed, but he chuckled to himself. He made his way through the village, waving or nodding to people as he saw them. It was strange, being accepted as he was. He wasn’t the only gruff and hardened warrior here, and no one seemed scared of him for his scars or his accent. The feeling was so foreign to him.

As he walked up a small hill toward the end of the village, he heard a quiet thud against the grass. He looked down and saw the strange stone from the forest laying there. Right, he’d completely forgotten. It must’ve fallen from his belongings. He picked it up and looked at it, thumbs running over the strange markings. It was almost shaped like a fork, but with three prongs. Maybe Helga would know what it meant.

When he made his way in front of the door of the last house in the village, he hesitated before knocking. The sun was slowly setting and it was getting a tad colder, so he eventually knocked.

“Et øyeblikk!” (One moment!)

Pero smiled to himself as he heard her voice behind the door. Once the door opened, he raised his head and smiled sheepishly, the shape on his face still foreign to him.

Helga’s face softened as she saw him and rested a hand on her hip. “Well, come on in, then,” she grinned, opening the door wider for him. He nodded gratefully and stepped inside her home, the smells of burnt leaves and the feeling of a warm fire engulfing his body.

“I will find my own home, you need not keep me here if–”

“Hush,” she chuckled softly, taking his armor from his arms and putting it in her bedroom for cleaning later. “You are more than welcome to stay here,” she looked up at him with a bit of shyness. The first time she’d ever looked at him like that. “If you want to, that is.”

Pero took two steps closer to her until his face was mere inches from her own. “I want nothing more,” he said softly, rubbing the knuckle of his index finger against her cheek. She shut her eyes and exhaled softly, nodding.

“I was just getting ready to go to the feast,” Helga smiled, looking up at him. “Would you like to join me?”

Pero’s lips quirked up into a soft smile of his own before he remembered the stone he was holding. “Yes, but first,” his brows furrowed in thought. “It is silly, but… I found this strange stone while I was in the forest.”

Helga hummed and tilted her head to the side, letting him continue.

“It has a marking I have never seen before. Do you know what it means?” He asked, showing her the stone lying in the palm of his hand. She picked it up and rubbed her thumb over the marking like he had before.

“Where did you find this?” Helga asked, face pinched in confusion.

“In the forest. There was a small clearing with a bloodstained stone, and–”

“The ritual site,” she smiled up at him, clutching the stone in her hand. “We sacrificed one of the cows on the first day of Jól there.”

Pero blinked down at her, hands holding her arms and rubbing softly. “I see…”

Helga laughed softly. “You’ll get used to it,” she winked. “This is one of the runes. It seems we forgot one.”

“What does it mean?” He hummed, cupping her face in his large hand. He rubbed his thumb against her cheek.

“Protection,” she said softly. She looked at his lips, then looked back up at his eyes. He did the same and leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. They stayed there for a few moments before he released her and pressed his forehead against hers.

“Surely the feast can wait a few moments,” he growled into her neck, kissing against the soft skin there. Helga bit her lip and smiled, fingers tangling into the thick curls at the back of his head.

“It can,” she gasped, startled by the small nip he left against her shoulder. Pero slowly walked them toward her bedroom and laid her on top of the bed. The curtains in front of the window were drawn. Something caught his eye in the window and he looked out, hovering over Helga’s body.

In the distance, on top of a hill, was a large black wolf. It seemed to make eye contact with him before it turned and left.

A chill ran down Pero’s spine.

a/n: if you're at all curious, here's a decent idea of what i imagined the stone to look like 🥰

#pero tovar #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar fic #pero tovar x ofc #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #ppcu fanfiction #12 days of pedro #12dop #oaksfics

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goldenseresinretriever · 6 months ago

Text

Snitches Get Stitches: Chapter 3

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: Jake Seresin, golden boy of the NHL and Captain of the Dallas Stars makes headlines when he unexpectedly signs with newly-formed San Diego Dogfighters. When your future seems at the verge of crashing down, you receive the opportunity of a lifetime to become the team physician for the Dogfighters. You never expected to be working directly with your favorite hockey player. Jake has a secret and you have a job to do. Will he be able to trust you enough to help and will you be able to trust him with your heart?

Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, violence, sports violence, medical stuff, blood probably, angst, fluff, (eventual) smut, forbidden romance, sexual harassment, suggestive language, medical inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies etc. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: This is a repost of my completed series, Snitches Get Stitches. It was originally posted in October-November 2023, and was lost when my blog was deleted.

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

You don’t see Jake again until the next day. Three days in and you’re up to your eyeballs in paperwork that Beau dropped into your lap this morning. You’re starting to understand why they call him Cyclone, he blows in and right back out, leaving you in perpetual chaos. Admittedly he got it for doing that on the ice and he’s actually an extremely reasonable person, you just don’t particularly appreciate getting swamped when you’re already booked full with the physicals. There’s only one way to get both done and that’s how you find yourself in your office working through your lunch break, trying to ignore the angry protests of your stomach after being on your feet all morning working through the last of the second line guys. You half expect the knock at your door, absently calling out to invite the knocker in, expecting Zam coming to investigate your absence from the unofficial girls' table in the break room. That’s why the southern drawl catches you off guard and your head whips up so fast you almost tumble out of your chair.

“Hey, Bugs.” Jake Seresin is standing in the doorway, holding a white plastic bag and a steel water bottle. “You got a second?”

You most definitely do not have a second but your patients come first so you rush to rearrange the paper chaos on your desk to clear some space, waving a hand at the chair opposite inviting him to sit. “Sure Jake, what’s up?”

He sits, his large body dwarfing the office chair and you do your best not to stare, the lack of food in your stomach must be making you mildly delirious. “I was thinking about what you said yesterday about trust, and you’re asking me to trust you. And not your title, you’re asking me to trust you the person if that makes sense?” You nod slowly. “And I was thinking that to trust you as a person, I can’t really do the blind faith thing. I can do that with a title because the title has implications, like because you’re a doctor I know you have over a decade of school and studying to back that title up. But I don’t have anything to trust you as a person because I just met you two days ago. You’ve done your research on me, you said so yourself, so I think I need to do my research.”

“Is this you asking for my Instagram…?” He laughs at that and this time you have time to appreciate how beautiful and full the sound is.

“No Bugs,” he chuckles, placing the plastic bag and water bottle on your desk. “This is me asking you to have lunch with me.”

“Oh. Oh yeah, sure.” You do your best to quiet the part of your brain that’s spiraling to figure out when you’re going to be able to finish all this paperwork. It’ll have to wait, you’re finally getting somewhere with Jake. He opens the bag pulling out a wrapped package and a plastic container.

“I didn’t know if you were more of a cheeseburger or salad person so I just got both.” You almost melt into your seat at the gesture. Before you can say anything, however, your stomach beats your mouth and growls so loudly you want to sink through your chair and die. Your cheeks flush as Jake grins. “Sounds like you’re a both girl.” He places the cheeseburger on top of the salad container and slides the stack across your desk.

“Thank you, Jake, seriously.” You stammer as you grab the cheeseburger with shaking fingers, doing everything to not rip the wrapper to shreds and devour half of it in one bite. “And for the record, I’m a cheeseburger girl.” You give him a shy smile as you bite into it, groaning.

He chuckles as he takes out three more cheeseburgers and starts on one as well. “And here I thought bunnies liked carrots.”

“Actually rabbits don’t naturally eat carrots. They’re too high in sugar.” You say around the cheeseburger in your mouth.

“Noted.”

You swallow. “So what do you want to know about me?”

“I guess let’s start broad. What made you want to do this, working with athletes? You mentioned you watch hockey in your spare time?”

“Yeah, I grew up watching the Ducks with my dad.” You smile at the memory. “Hockey is our thing, one thing we can always talk about, do together.”

“I bet he lost his mind when he found out you’re working with three former Ducks.” He says with a grin. You laugh at that.

“Are you kidding? The man lost his damn mind. He always said he’d never go to an NHL game that wasn’t an Anaheim game but he’s already got tickets for our season opener. The man worships Maverick.”

“Are the Ducks your favorite team too?”

You hesitate at that. Before it was easy to keep yourself separate from Bugs, they were two circles that didn’t overlap but there’s nothing professional about eating lunch with one of your patients in your office. You’re finally making progress with Jake and while you hate lying to him, you’re not sure now is the time to mention that you’re a super fan. “I’m pretty sure I’m contractually obligated to say my favorite team is the Dogfighters.”

“Good point.” He chuckles. So you love hockey, but there’s plenty of ways to work with it without being a physician, so why that?”

“Well I’ve always felt connected to the players on a team, so naturally it always hurt a little to see them get injured, and as a viewer, I hated that there wasn’t something I could do about that. Turns out there was something I could do. I’ve always loved taking care of people but being able to apply it to something that means so much to me is kind of like the sweetest possible deal. I like to think I have a unique perspective with hockey athletes specifically since I grew up watching and playing the sport, I feel like I know them.”

“Wait a second, you play hockey?” His eyes are glowing with excitement.

“Played, past tense. Just for a little bit as a kid, until high school. I never really had the build and body for it, so I played as long as I could before it got to a serious level and I couldn’t make the teams anymore. My dad used to coach a kids league so that’s how I started.”

“What position?”

“Goalie and that’s the only reason I managed to make teams for as long as I did. The body was less of a requirement next to flexibility and agility.”

“Like Bob?”

“Yup, just like Bob, but look at him, he made it to the NHL. It’s nice to see, I think I would have fought harder to keep playing if I’d seen a goalie like him.” You give a rueful smile. “But if I’d kept playing, I never would have found my calling for sports medicine so it worked out in a way. This way I understand what it’s like to be a player so I can level with my patients better because I understand where their coming from.” He nods, turning this new information over in his head.

“Any siblings?”

“Two older brothers.”

“Did they play hockey too?”

You nod. “My oldest brother played through college but didn’t get drafted so he went to law school for sports law and now he’s the one signing players. My other brother plays for the Predators.”

“Damn Bugs, you’ve got an NHL player in the family? No wonder you’re so chill around us.”

“Idiot boys are idiot boys no matter how much they get paid. My brother may play for the Predators now but that’s the same kid who had to get his stomach pumped at age six for eating two whole tubes of play dough on a dare.” Jake chokes on his burger as he laughs.

“Are y’all close?”

You nod. “We all work in different facets of the same sport so it keeps us pretty tight-knit.”

“So who are you gonna be rooting for when we play the Predators in November?”

You make a face. “Are you kidding? The Predators can’t play for shit.” Jake barks out a laugh at the disgusted look you throw his way.

“And the Dogfighters?”

“That remains to be seen. I still haven’t seen their star centre at the top of his game so I can’t form an opinion about them quite yet.” You give him a soft smile, hoping that it comes across like gentle encouragement instead of a cruel dig. He sighs and sits back and you’re afraid you’ve crushed the delicate bubble you’d just created. “I didn’t mean it like that, Jake, I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry.” You stumble over your words as you try to backtrack. Before Jake can respond, a knock sounds at your door and you call out for them to come in. Cyclone enters and you can’t help but wither a little at the sight.

“Cyclone, what can I do for you?” You give him a tight smile trying to ignore the way his eyes rove over the scene in front of him, Jake, the food, the pushed-aside paperwork.

“Bugs, I wanted to see if you’d finished up with the paperwork I dropped off this morning?” Finished? You’d be lucky if you were even halfway done. “I’m going to need those on my desk by the end of the day.”

“Sure thing, sir.” You chirp, trying to keep the panic out of your voice. You’re so completely, totally, fucked. Your afternoon is booked full with physicals, so you’ll have to stay late to finish the paperwork.

“Jake? What brings you here?”

“Just chatting, sir, getting better acquainted with the person responsible for my health for the foreseeable future.” Jake offers Cyclone a wide grin that’s pure charisma. He could charm the pants off a horse. Cyclone nods in response, turning back to you.

“Bugs, if you could come by my office when you’re done here I’d like to have a chat with you as well.” You feel your stomach sink. You know what this is about. Your mind falls back to the day of your interview and you grimace at exactly what Cyclone is insinuating.

“I’ll be right up, sir.” You miss the worried look that Jake gives you. His eyes scan the papers scattered on your desk as Cyclone leaves.

“Hey Bugs, did I interrupt your work?” He looks guilty.

“No! Well technically yes I was working on some paperwork but you’re my patient so you’re my work too, and either way, I was on my lunch break so legally speaking I wasn’t working either way. There was no way this was all getting done by the end of the day anyway.”

“But Cyclone just said-“

“It'll be done by the end of THE day, just not his day. I’ll just have to stay late to finish it up. I’ve got back-to-back physicals for the rest of the day after this. It's no big deal.”

He shakes his head, frowning. “That’s not fair, you shouldn’t have to do that. Doesn’t he know how busy you are?”

“You of all people should know life isn’t fair, Jake. We’re starting a team from the ground up, this may be the first late night, but I promise you it won’t be the last.” You start collecting your trash, already missing Jake’s company at the thought of your meeting with Cyclone. He’s deep in thought, still frowning. “Sorry to cut things short, but I do have to meet Cyclone before my next appointment.” Something pops into your mind that you’d meant to mention as Jake starts to clean up as well.

“Wait, Jake, I need to tell you something.” He looks up, and the seas in his eyes are calmer than you’ve ever seen them even as you see the question in them.

“What’s up, Bugs?”

“Bob knows.” He looks confused so you clarify. “About your leg…” you watch the walls slam back up in his eyes as he frowns, anger flooding into his face. “I didn’t tell him, I swear! He asked me about it yesterday during his physical. Apparently, he studied kinesiology in college and has been watching you and he noticed something was up.” You’re suddenly worried that you’ve made a terrible mistake in telling him but ultimately you thought it was the right decision.

“Fuck…” Jake runs an irritated hand through his hair and you watch the blonde strands stick up on his wake. “FUCK!” You jump at his raised voice and he turns to you at the movement. He must see the fear pass through your eyes because his shoulders slump and you see the same look mirrored in them. You come out from behind your desk, laying your hand on his absurdly large bicep.

“It’s okay, Jake. I know this is scary but you’ll get through this. We’ll get through this.” You add without thinking. He turns to look at you and you see the fear swirling in his eyes and it breaks your heart. “But your team deserves to know what’s going on, Jake. You owe that to them as a teammate and especially as their captain. You have to lead by example.” He nods silently.

“I know.” You’re not sure if you imagine the waver in his voice.

“I gotta go before Cyclone comes back down here looking for me, but you can take your time if you need some privacy.” You take a deep breath that doesn’t go unnoticed by Jake, straightening your shoulders before grabbing your white coat from the hook on the back of your door, giving Jake a little wave as you leave.

***

The walk up to Cyclone’s office feels like walking through wet cement, but when you get there, the door is open and he’s waiting at his desk, lips set in a grim line. You close the door behind you, taking a seat across from him when he invites you to.

“Bugs, I was hoping we wouldn’t have to have this conversation at all, let alone three days into the job.” He looks frustrated and you can’t blame him but you also know he’s misunderstanding what he saw. “When I hired you, you made me a promise.”

“I know sir, and I’ve kept it. My relationship with Jake Seresin, if you can even call it that, is strictly professional. As the captain of the team, he’s expressed interest in maintaining a good relationship with me so he wanted to meet to discuss how the physicals have been going and lunchtime is the only free time we both have, currently.” You hope the lie sounds as convincing as you need it to as you silently chastise yourself for putting your hand on Jake’s arm earlier. It was unnecessary and unprofessional. Anyone could have walked in and gotten the wrong idea. You need to stop touching him so much, but you can’t help it. He’s like a magnet, and you’re helpless to his pull.

He nods curtly but doesn’t look convinced. “And how are they going?”

“Everyone I’ve finished with is in perfect condition.” This time it’s not a lie. Technically Jake hasn’t had his physical yet.

“Good.” He sighs. “Bugs, we’re not going to have a problem here, are we? I took a chance hiring you, you know that. There are multiple accounts that contrast the story you told me. You’re outnumbered and I still chose to trust you, I hope I made the right decision.”

“You did, sir. There won’t be any problems.” At least not in this department. You can’t imagine how he’ll react when he finds out his star goalie is injured.

“I hope so because if we do, I can assure you that you’ll never work in the NHL again, let alone in the hockey world.” You swallow, hard, glad that your hands aren’t visible where they’re tightly fisted under the table to contain your anger. This shouldn’t be happening, you shouldn’t have to be dealing with this, and yet you’re sitting here being scolded like a child for something that’s not even your fault, being threatened with losing everything you’ve worked so hard for, that you’re more than qualified to do.

“Yes, sir.”

“That will be all Bugs, I expect to see that paperwork on my desk first thing tomorrow.” You do your best to leave without looking like you’re actively fleeing the scene, but as soon as his office door shuts you’re practically sprinting back to your office. With the endless pile of paper on your desk, every second counts.

***

You glance at the clock as you grab what’s finally the last piece of paper on your desk. It’s a little after eight and honestly, you’re doing a lot better than you expected. You silently thank Jake’s lunch interruption or else you’d be positively delirious from hunger at this point. Even now, you can feel the all-to-familiar gnawing that comes after a hard day’s work. You’re thankful to be sitting after standing for pretty much the whole afternoon. By the end of the week you should be done with all the physicals except Jake’s, ahead of schedule you might add. You can’t find it in you to be proud, though, as you try to focus your brain enough to read the letters swimming on the page in front of you. Letting out an exhausted groan, you lay your forehead down on the table, as a knock raps at your door.

“Sorry, I’m almost done here, it’ll be good to clean in like twenty minutes!” You call out to who you assume is the cleaning crew, anxious to finish their jobs and go home like you.

“Good to know.” A familiar voice answers as the door swings open to reveal Jake, holding a pizza box. He’s got a backward cap on his head and a gentle grin on his face as he takes a seat in his spot across from you, placing the box on the table and you can feel the heat coming off of it as your mouth starts to water. You’re sure you’re making heart eyes at it as he opens it and helps himself to a slice. “I figured you probably hadn’t had dinner since you seemed so used to skipping lunch.” You give him an embarrassed smile as you finally pull your eyes away from the pizza.

“You didn’t have to do that.” He waves you off with his free hand. “What’re you still doing here, anyway?” You turn back to the pizza, selecting a slice and barely stopping the moan from escaping your lips as you take a bite.

“You said you were staying late and I wasn’t sure how safe that was so I figured I’d hit the gym and get some extra reps. No leg stuff, don’t worry.” He says misinterpreting your wide-eyed expression.”

“You stayed here for me?”

“I mean you’re staying here for us, so yeah. Plus, I owed you after interrupting your work earlier.”

“Well, you’ll be glad to know I’m almost done.” You wave your free hand at the paper in front of you. “Last one!” He lifts his fist in a silent cheer as he chews. You wipe your greasy hands on your scrubs and turn back to the paper, and suddenly the words are legible again. You skim the text before adding some notes and signatures where necessary. You work in a comfortable silence punctuated by the sound of Jake’s chewing. Finally, you set down your pen and sit back in your chair with a sigh.

“All done?”

“All done!” You turn back to the box to see two slices left.

“Those are all yours, Bugs. You earned ‘em.” You smile shyly at him as you dig in. “So, how’d the meeting with Cyclone go?” He looks slightly concerned and you wonder why.

You shrug as you swallow. “Fine, I guess. He wanted to know how the physicals were going. At least I’m ahead on those, they should be done by Friday, except for you, that is. You have until the end of next week.”

“About that…” Jake looks at you sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “I think I’m ready.”

You almost fall out of your chair for the second time today. “Jake that’s great news! Thank you so much!” You pause to swallow. “Wait did you mean right now, right now, or like just generally ready?”

He chuckles nervously. “Just generally. You can fit me in whenever, I’ll be there.”

“I can do it first thing tomorrow if you’d like? Get it over and done with so you don’t have to worry about it anymore?” He nods at that.

“Yeah, that’ll work.” His eyes are fixed at some invisible point on the desk.

“Hey, Jake?” He doesn’t raise his head.

“Yeah, Bugs?”

“No matter what happens tomorrow, it’s gonna be okay. I’ll be with you every step of the way.” He nods, still not looking at you. “It’s okay to be scared, you know? You just can’t let the fear paralyze you, you have to move through it.” He lets out a shuddering breath and you wonder just how long he’s been holding it.

When he speaks again, you almost don’t recognize his voice. It’s gravelly and full of fear. “What if you can’t fix it?”

“Then I’ll do whatever I can to make you more comfortable and we’ll move from there. There’s no scenario where things don’t change, I promise. I can’t promise how much I’ll be able to do until I’ve seen your leg.” He nods again.

“Everything changes tomorrow.”

“Everything’s already changed today.” You say with a small smile. “We had an actual conversation like sane human beings, we shared two meals, and you decided to trust me with your care. The hard part’s already over.” You watch his cheeks flex as he smiles too.

“Thanks, Bunny, I mean it.” You try to ignore the way your heart beats a little faster when he calls you that.

“Thank YOU, for trusting me.” The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes before you add. “Hey, Jake? You should talk to Javy. He loves you a lot and he’s really tearing himself up over this.”

He nods. “I know. We usually tell each other everything, I haven’t been fair to him.”

You stand. “I’m gonna run this paperwork upstairs if you want to grab your stuff to head out.” You stack the piles of paper in your arms, careful not to drop them, and Jake stands, holding open the door for you. You give him a smile of thanks before heading off to Cyclone’s office to drop them off.

***

You find Jake waiting with his stuff by the door to the parking garage. “Sorry, you didn’t need to wait!”

He shakes his head with a smile. “You just don’t get it, do you? I’m walking you to your car.”

“What if I’m staying late in an attempt to get kidnapped so I can sue for the money I need for my loans?” You pout up at him.

“I’d say you’re better off trying that on a team with more money.” You laugh. The only cars left in the garage are yours and a silver Ford F-150 that you assume must be Jake’s. “I’d say nice ride, Bugs, but what happened to the front?” He squats down to examine the scratches on your front bumper. “Oh, I hit Maverick on his bike.” His head whips up to gape at you.

“You WHAT?”

“Yeah, that’s actually how we met… He drove in front of me when I was pulling into a gas station. I was freaking out and told him I was a doctor so he’d let me check him out and then he offered me a job interview.”

“Damn Bunny, you’re a hustler.” You blush.

“HE drove in front of ME.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” He stands back up. “I know a guy who could take a look at those scratches if you want?”

“Oh no, don’t worry about it, they’re just scratches, it’s not worth the money, honestly.”

“I promise you, Mav can afford it. And remind me to never let you drive my truck.” You roll your eyes, unlocking your car and tossing your stuff into the passenger seat.

“Goodnight, Jake.” You say as you slide into the driver’s seat, rolling down the window so you can keep talking to him.

“Drive safe, Bugs.” He gives you a pointed look that says he means it.

You can’t help it, you stick your tongue out at him as you shift the car into reverse. Jake stays and waves you off until you can’t see him anymore. All in all, today was a success, you think as you pull out of the garage. Jake trusts you, except now you have a different problem. Can you trust yourself with Jake?

#san diego dogfighters au #San Diego dogfighters #San Diego Dogfighters hockey au #snitches get stitches // goldenseresinretriever #sgs // goldenseresinretriever #top gun maverick hockey au #top gun maverick #TGM #top gun #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #no use of y/n

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vitaminseetarot · 1 year ago

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PAC Pick a Palette: One Small Thing That Will Help You Grow ☕🌞💴

Welcome back to my pick a card readings! This time we're looking at the time between our New Moon sowing and our Full Moon flowering. At this stage of the magic making process, work has gone underway to build upon the seed that was germinated and growth happens. Soon it will reveal the peak of its work through the flower, but before then the stem and leaves also deserve attention. They're the ones helping to power the whole thing!

It's important, then, to look at what you're using and where you are in the process. Not everything is meant to grow at the same rate, but sometimes the right ingredients like plant food or pruning clippers can do an incredible job at providing a needed boost.

Pick one of these three color palette swatches to find out what you can add or remedy to assist the growth of your own magic!

(Forgive me if the spread out looks a bit funky this time, it's all about finding the part of the house with the best natural lighting!)

Pile 1: Coffee Beans

Draw: Four of Wands; Queen of Pentacles, Page of Wands, Death 18 - Communication, Aries Rising - Act, Heartsease - Compassion "Tread a little more tenderly."

You need more space to grow whatever it is you're creating. A bird can try to lay an egg without a nest, but it's never going to be easy. Building a sturdy nest increases the young's chance of survival. You should try considering the space in which you're using to create your project or desire: are you writing a novel in a cluttered room, or cooking a meal when you can't find half of your measuring cups and saucepans? Are you meditating in a place where it's difficult to tune out the background noise?

Four of Wands talks about creating the space for you to thrive like the corn in Queen of Pentacles. The Queen is able to cultivate her garden in peace and certainty that abundance is hers. You are meant to take what it is you're doing and allow it to grow, so the Queen is being quite literal here. But she wants you to do it from a place of joy and enthusiasm instead of dread.

The Page is fired up from drinking coffee and is ready to go. But you must be in a place of ease with yourself to do this. Your message is to act upon your growth, but do it from a gentle place and at a gentle pace. Do not try to over exert yourself when you do have the space to practice or create. Do not try, for example, to squeeze 45 minutes of exercise into 5 minutes, thinking that it's all the time you're allowed, so why not go overboard, amiright? This is the fast lane to killing what you're growing and your joy for it, pile 1, and what you're growing is still in a very delicate stage. You have time to work out the details, so don't rush this. Heartease was the first card to pop out and the only card to jump, so it's really emphasizing the need to be careful with how you spend your time and energy.

The Communication card is the only one that really stands out to me. Perhaps what you're developing has to do with communications. Writing a book, preparing a speech, blogging, interview, etc. but it could also have to do with growing your connections with other people through how you communicate. You could be rekindling an old friendship from school or meeting someone for coffee? In any case, Compassion is the keyword here. Be gentle and ready to listen more to feedback, while creating a safe space for your friend or colleague to communicate clearly with you. This is a meetup you'll want to act upon, but do so from a place of kindness.

Also for some reason, maybe it's because I heard the song recently while out, but Tom Petty's "Free Fallin" is in my head while typing your reading and only your reading. Argh, such an earworm! If this person you're meeting up with hurt your heart in some way way back in the past… yeah it's cool to be on the defensive, assert your boundaries. Heartease, however, still asks that you treat this situation with diplomacy.

Pile 2: Radiance

Draw: Eight of Wands; Queen of Pentacles, King of Swords, Knight of Pentacles 19 - Healing Grief, Pisces Rising - Dream, Wisteria - Longevity "Plan for and take the dedicated path."

You have some similarities to pile 1, so if you were interested in that pile I recommend checking it out for messages. For starters, you have Queen of Pentacles in the exact same space on your spread, so that tells me there's a lot of collective push for undertaking rapid growth at this time. The Queen does it from an appearance of near effortlessness, but it's not without considerable effort on her part. She's able to handle a lot with grace and consistency.

It seems like in your cards, pile 2, you're pretty solid when it comes to growing towards your goals. You've become used to trucking along without must reprieve, as if it's from one thing to another as smoothly as the train cars pass the railroad crossing. You're being asked to remember about the power of momentum, and about the little things that add up. Think of how a bird takes off. When it starts flapping, it flaps hard. Once it's high in the sky, it spreads out and soars with ease. It requires a lot of steady pushing, one flap at a time, but eventually when it takes off it gains more speed than ever.

Again like with pile 1, you have all the time you need to make your dreams grow and flourish. Just don't be surprised if this takes a rather long time to accomplish. The Queen of Pentacles is less interested in quantity or time efficiency as she is in quality. It's not that she isn't punctual, far from it, but she and the Knight know that the best fruits are ones that ripen when they're ready to. You're being encouraged to plan for the long term, with wise judgement as the King of Swords suggests, and to open yourself up to envisioning more brilliant avenues to fly through. Imagine what would make your heart soar, and grow that instead of something that you merely feel "obligated" to do. Great things can take time, but it'll be completely worth the wait.

Also, my sun catcher reflected a rainbow perfectly on the osprey in this Eight of Wands card, it's nice. There is a radiance that comes from taking time to grow something to how you want it to be, like the bird with its fish catching talents (it can pluck them right out of the water and fly around boasting its catch). Your skills will shine here, just be sure to care for yourself in the meantime.

Pile 3: Perfect Penny

Draw: Nine of Wands; II High Priestess, XIV Temperance, Seven of Wands 25 - Truth, Taurus Moon - Relax, Belladonna - Silence "Listen more and quiet be."

So this was an interesting spread because at first I couldn't tell if the message was to hold on or let go. Maybe that's your current dilemma when it comes to growth. And it's a valid one, cause it's a lot like the pruning stage. You have to decide which leaves are valuable to your health, and which leaves are dead and must be clipped away.

The penny is like… saving a wishing penny for a rainy day. You're on the defense with Nine of Wands. Do I use this penny now to accomplish this, you ask, or I should I save it for later when I might use it for something else? Nine of Wands is a lot of energy being deliberately held back for a reason, like an arrow ready to fire. It could be that you're maybe putting a little too much perfectionism into the idea. What you're growing has not yet been grounded into the material world, it's still a passion idea or a fire in your heart but you're holding it back. But Nine of Wands is also a Sagittarius card, doubly so since Sagittarius is the 9th sign. The requirement here for growth is pushing forward with optimism that your wish will not go to waste. There's an energy of perfectionism here especially as it took me exactly nine photos before I settled for this one. I finally decided it didn't have to be perfect, it just had to feel ok enough!

My first reaction was to say "trust your gut and you'll learn to balance the give and take," then High Priestess and Temperance came out together! Somewhere inside you already know what it is you would like to do with "the penny" of an idea you're casting into the wishing well. You don't have to overthink this. It's a matter of coming from a heart-centered place of Truth. Belladonna is showing you how to tap into your intuition: "listen more, silent be." Listen closely to what your heart is wishing to do. Balance this out with how others may perceive your goals or growth. There may be people who say something like, "you're going to use what you got on 'that'?" or "are you really sure that's what you want to do?"

It takes practice to choose from a place of intuitive open mindedness, but it will reward you in this case. You're being reminded to stay relaxed and steady about this. Making the next move doesn't have to come from a place of high pressure or unneeded stress, even if it's time sensitive. But by learning to listen to your intuition more, the part that tells you how to proceed from a place of optimism within reason, you'll be able to more quickly expand and grow upon what it is you're creating. With penny's copper corresponding to Venus as well as Taurus moon, it's suggested here that you could receive monetary or financial growth through this, as well.

This reading has not been evaluated by the FDA to diagnose, prevent, treat, or cure any disease or infection. Please ask your physician before going online.

2023, @VitaminseeTarot ™

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changingplumbob · 6 months ago

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Woods Household: Chapter 2, Part 4

Four werewolves and a human sit down to dinner...

CW: Low level sim spice. Content Warning Guide

Wolfgang and Kristopher have not come alone. Natalia, Kristopher’s wife has come to. She and Kristopher have three kids together. Samir is relieved they didn’t bring them to dinner. He and Reece greet her and the meal properly begins.

Samir is nervous at first, then the other werewolves begin eating. They’re every bit as messy as him! He tucks into his food happily, glad he doesn’t have to repress his gluttonous nature and Reece prepares himself for people talking with their mouths full.

Wolfgang: This is delicious

Natalia: Much better than what we have on set

Kristopher: Natalia is an actress in her spare time

Reece: Oh my sister’s friend does that. What do you do Kristopher?

Kristopher: Look after any wolves that come through these parts

Samir: How long have you been doing that

Natalia: A while… he’s immortal see

Reece: Immortal?

Kristopher: Love you forget, they don’t know much about our lore

Wolfgang: They should if they’ve been reading my books, I see a few of them on the shelf

Samir: You write

Wolfgang: Under a pen name of course of but you can also find me at the main mill most days, I’m the librarian

Reece: You work for the library? Say hi to Flynn and Eve for me

*crickets as no one else gets the geeky joke*

Reece: Uh, did you write that bit in The Werewolf who came in from the cold?

Samir: About the collective

Wolfgang: You could read that? Oh wonderful

Kristopher: It means your eyes are adjusting properly. You’ll be able to see extra text in many of the books in the library

Wolfgang: And my books of course. Read up on what you can and we’ll fill in the blanks for you

Reece offers to sort the dishes while Samir grabs some of the meat in the fridge for seconds. Reece goes to the lounge to do more of his homework while Samir asks more questions.

Samir: Will I always be hungry

Kristopher: It takes a lot of calories to shift, and we have a faster metabolism than humans. I’d suggest planting a fruit tree of some kind so you can always have a snack on hand

Samir: I’m more a meat kind of guy

Kristopher: *whispers* how is your hearing

Samir: *whispers* pretty good

The conversation continues with the group talking so quietly that Reece who is close by cannot hear a word they say.

Natalia: It’s an adjustment being able to hear so much. I am not looking forward to what I might hear when the kids become teens

Samir: Wolfgang… what did you mean when you said Reece and I were lucky to have found each other? It seemed weighted

Kristopher: Tell me you didn’t-

Wolfgang: That was all I said Kristopher, those words

Samir: Why? What could he have said

Kristopher: Nothing that’s backed up by precedent

Wolfgang: Just because you’ve never encountered it before-

Kristopher: *snaps* For the last time, fated mates have only ever been documented in relationships between werewolves

Samir: Fated what

An awkward silence descends as Kristopher and Wolfgang exchange looks and Natalia clearly searches for something to say.

Kristopher: So you want to take on who killed your parents do you

Samir: What? *growls* Do you know who it was

Wolfgang: We have an idea

Kristopher: But no, we’re not telling you until we’re sure you won’t go getting yourself killed. Come outside with me, show me what you can do

Samir follows Kristopher outside, nearly slipping on the icy ground.

Kristopher: You need to work on your reflexes

Samir: I know…

Kristopher: I trust you’ve figured out how to shift at will?

Samir: Sort of…

Kristopher: Come on, show me

The older wolf effortlessly ripples into his wolf form while Samir enters his wolf form more awkwardly.

Samir: Why don’t our clothes tear

Kristopher: We may change our physical appearance but you’ll find we stay a similar size. Now, attack me

The pair disappear into a cloud of dust and fur! Samir isn’t used to tangling with someone as fast as him so he has a job staying ahead of Kristopher’s swings. He sadly discovers a bop to his wolf nose is extremely painful, and that it’s harder to slice through fur with his claws than he thought.

When the dust settles Kristopher is the clear victor but Samir isn’t hurt.

Kristopher: You have an amount of raw talent. That may have been fine on the football field but it’s different as a wolf. You need to work on refining your talents

Samir: I know. Thanks

Kristopher: Anytime. If you want to join the collective-

Samir: No. I have Reece

Kristopher: Up to you of course. I’ll grab the others and take our leave. Howl if you ever need anything

Samir goes inside and Reece looks up from his homework.

Reece: You do make a good looking werewolf… but I still think we should keep woohoo to human form only

Samir: No problem, I can shift

Samir goes into the kitchen to get some space and tries to shift. Nothing changes.

Samir: Damn it!

Reece: It’s okay boss, you’ve done it before. You’ll do it again

Samir: Right blondie, I’ll try. I am in control *deep breath* I am in control….

Reece does his best to think calming thoughts as Samir awkwardly shifts back to human form. It’s still a rusty process but at least he can do it.

Reece: There… my handsome lover is back. Did the others have any good tips

Samir: Just to keep reading and working on skills. Now I have a pretty good tip for you… if you can take it

Reece: *chuckles* I do my best

Samir: Come on, let’s put you to bed

Reece: *sighing* I love you

Samir: *smirks* I love you to, now come on or you’ll miss all the fun

Previous ... Next

#sims 4 #the sims #the sims 4 #simblr #ts4 #ReeceFoster #SamirHadji #Active Simblr #R0908

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toshio · 7 months ago

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I've been thinking about doing uber. How long do you drive for $200-$300 and usually what time of day? Any sage advice?

I'M SO GLAD YOU ASKED (being serious)

i really do enjoy doing uber! however, like most jobs, no job is perfect, there are shitty moments that make you wanna unalive yourself after a shift and that's normal. there are moments where i'm happy as f*ck driving to different areas in virginia and sightseeing during my breaks and then there's stressful moments where you can't find the person to pickup at the airport because of a language barrier (happened to me recently, big yikes). here's my unsolicited experience/advice:

the best parts about doing uber: you can get paid instantly, so if you got rent money due before the month ends, and you make like $700 from uber in a week, then instantly deposit that. there's an uber debit card that you should get, i use that. all the money you make instantly goes there and i just use it as a separate checking account to buy drinks and groceries and stuff, completely separate from my main.

another perk of doing uber is...obviously nobody tells you what to do. there's no boss telling you to clock in, you can just do a shift whenever, skip a day, work all day, etc. besides like customer support if something bad happens. which i heard is pretty shit btw so good luck. i love the freedom that uber gives me. i decided to catch up on grinding in my MMORPG (maplestory lol) and take like 1-2 days off. i can just go back whenever and that's beautiful. i love being my boss.

you can do early morning shifts near busy shopping centers, airports, and get decent money. i personally avoid the airport though, but i have done airport rideshares. IMO do not do uber after the sun sets, obviously #1 if you're a young looking woman driving alone at night you're probably a target, and #2 it's just spooky and you should be tucked in at home playing video games when it's dark. it's hard to see the road at night, it can be dangerous. just do early morning, evening, but when you see that sun getting lower, drive home asap.

so you can choose from doing rideshares (driving people) or food deliveries, i personally do both. if you don't like people, you can just turn on food. you legit just go inside a mcdonalds or even a fancy 5 star restaurant in the city, and then drive to the person's house and drop it off. for food deliveries the tips are calculated like 1 hour later, so if you get like very little money after dropping off your first food order, just be patient and check back later. the most important thing is choosing good orders, don't do something that's like $5 for 10 miles. always do something that's like $10 for 5 miles. your car's health is very important, don't milk it too hard.

on that note, cars...you obviously use your car to drive people and food around. make sure your car is well kept. if you're driving a piece of garbage, it's honestly kinda good to "milk" it with uber until it finally combusts. while doing uber, there's a lot of risk you're putting yourself in. only sign up for the job if you consider yourself a good driver with 0 accidents in the past like 5 years or so.

idk there's a lot about uber, i don't wanna yap your ears off. if you're interested, go on youtube and type in uber driver stuff. there's nice youtube shorts of it, and full on youtube guides about uber/doordash/grubhub etc. they're all considered "gig" work so it's not like a 9-5 which is what i loathe and avoid doing in my mid 20s.

if you sign up, i'll give you some personal tips i made up:

keep a gallon of water or two in your car. snacks too, but they might melt if your area is hella hot during the summer. keep yourself loaded. you'll be driving a lot. i do tend to eat out at fast food restaurants or stuff like panera before, during, or after shifts.

calculate the distance (mileage) and the money $$$ involved when you get a request. do not take bad orders. bad orders are like, very little pay (customers tipping like shit) for HIGH mileage which is basically you just losing money. rule of thumb is like, 1.5x or 2x the pay for the mileage. for example, 5 mile food delivery for $10 total payout.

when picking orders, be aware that if you do a long distance trip (like 10 miles+) you're gonna end up in a different city or area in the state that you live in. do not drive too far away, because you eventually have to drive back home. and sometimes you end up in sketchy areas, so stay safe and make sure you know your state, the roads, and how to navigate. your GPS is your best friend.

#this is a lot i know #also one more thing #do not do uber as your main income source #just do it as a filler gig #i do uber currently because i find it fun but also because i already have money coming in passively #so uber is nice money but you'll get exhausted asf so just do it for shits and gigs y'know #also i rarely make $200 in one day because i like doing short shifts #it's not a consistent job at all #you'll have shit days #again uber is if you absolutely hate working for a company and being a slave to capitalism and nightmare scheduling #alsooo the taxes for uber are kindaaa #y i k e s

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readychilledwine · 1 year ago

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Azriel Appreciation Week Day 4 - Domestic Life - Daycation

Summary - Having a day off together was rare, and Azriel knew he had to make the most of it by taking Lyria to his favorite place. His mother's.

Warnings - none

A/n- happy day four of @azrielappreciationweek Noone can convince me Azriel isn't the biggest mommy's boy, and having her approval of his mate would mean the world to him.

Ps if you haven't met Lyria yet and want to read some smut, you can find her in the following fics, both have 2 parts 💙

Slow Hands - Fours Company

Lyria arched her back, stretching her arms and legs as the soft morning sun painted her room a golden hue.

Then, she rolled over, pulling the blanket back over her red curls and snuggled deeper into her pillow.

She had scheduled herself a weekend off. A full 48 hours to rest her hands, her mind, her Magic. 48 hours to lay in the plush oversized bed she had purchased since her relationship with Azriel began all by herself. She released enough Magic to kiss her sheets and blanket in warmth, cocooning her in this unmatched feeling of comfort and sighed in happiness.

But that all went to shit quickly as she heard her door open and a body threw itself on her.

"Good morning, mate." Azriel pulled her blanket down, forcing her to look at him and smiled at her soft glare. "Rhys gave me today off."

Lyria popped up, her whole mood having shifted with that simple sentence. "Really?" Her wide eyes were silver lined with joy. "A whole day we can spend together?"

He nodded, stroking her messy hair. "There's somewhere I want to take you. It's important to me. But I figured we'd start with breakfast."

Azriel held her hand as they walked up to a small home on the edge of Velaris and the Sindra. The chimney was slowly billowing out smoke and the soft scent hearth welcoming them. They had stopped at the market, grabbing a bouquet of flowers, some baked goods, and a few other random things.

Azriel didn't knock when they got there, quickly dropping her hand with a boyish grin and kicking his boots off as fast as he could. "Ah, you're finally here!" A soft feminine voice made Lyria pause as she was removing her own flats. "And you brought her!"

She caved looking over her shoulder and instantly stood straight. Azriel was approaching a beautiful illyrian female, her soft hazel eyes adorned with laughter lines, her long dark hair had begun to grey slightly. Lyria easily placed the age based off her own father's looks and knew immediately.

Her mate had brought her to his mother's house.

Azriel held her for a little while before handing her the flowers Lyria had picked. A mix bouquet of wild and beautiful things. "Hi momma."

"Hi baby," she touched Azriel's face gently. "Introduce me to your mate. You're being very rude, Azriel."

Lyria and Florence sat on the couch together, snuggled under a blanket while Azriel finished cooking dinner. She had spent the day gossiping with his mother over snacks and drinks while she put her son to work around the house causing him to throw playful glares their way every so often.

They were currently discussing Lyria's job, something the female had been very interested in when Azriel finally spoke. "She might be willing to work you into her schedule mom. I'll pay."

Lyria looked at him, a single brow raised. "Why would I require payment?"

"For your time," Azriel answered slowly.

"She's your mother?" Lyria turned back to Florence. "I have tomorrow off! We should go shopping and then I can give you a massage! You will love it." Adoration flooded the bond from Azriel, tickling her heart and making her cheeks flush slightly.

Florence looked to Az, "Someone does owe me a shopping trip. And you two are staying the night."

Azriel had looked up, pausing mid stir. "My checkbook hurts already. Foods done. I made your favorite, momma."

Azriel pulled Lyria closer to him in the bed, kissing her nose and forehead before forcing it into his shoulder and neck. She had fallen asleep hours ago, her cheeks flushed from the wine her and his mother had been drinking while the 3 of them played games.

He had to carry both her and his mother to bed, the two females both giggling at their turn and telling him how much they loved each other, and in turn him. Azriel smiled into his mate's wild hair, already a mess of flames and curls, and shut his eyes with a soft sigh, enjoying the way Lyria unknowingly heated their bed to the perfect temperature.

He had finally brought a female his momma approved of home to her, now all he had to do was survive a day shopping with both of them.

#acotar #azriel acotar #acotar x reader #azriel #azriel x oc #azriel x vanserra!oc #azrielappreciationweek2023 #azrielweek2023 #azriel shadowsinger

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maccreadysbaby · 1 year ago

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A Hundred Days to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: none

wanna start from chapter one or read more? here’s the table of contents!

this chapter is short and sweet! get ready to meet lots more wayne’s next chapter!

part six

❝ HOME SWEET HOME ❞

SATURDAY — 10:47AM

BENTLEY ONLY WOKE UP ONCE IN THE NIGHT. The first time, he glanced over at Nightwing to find that he had fallen asleep in the recliner. The book he’d been reading was resting on his chest. The sun was rising dimly out the window, and the sudden change in brightness made Bentley’s headache worse, so he put the blanket over his head and went back to sleep.

The second time, however, the sun was fully shining through the windows, turning the safe-house gold, and a few smells and quiet music that Bentley didn’t recognize were emanating from the kitchen.

He pushed himself upright, blinking at the sunlight that stung his eyes. His head definitely felt better than it had earlier. But now his stomach was practically eating itself from the inside out, since he hadn’t eaten or drank anything in a solid two days.

The recliner Nightwing had been inhabiting was empty. The child slowly realized that, when Dick Grayson wasn’t saving the city as Nightwing, he probably had a job. And he was currently missing it to take care of him.

That only made Bentley feel more guilty about this whole thing than he already did. He pushed his deep red hair out of his eyes, glancing back through the doorway of the kitchen. “…Nightwing?”

A mere second after the word escaped his lips, Nightwing’s head poked from the kitchen into the living room with a large smile. “Hey there, sleepyhead!”

Bentley smiled faintly back, and let it fade as soon as the vigilante disappeared back into the kitchen. He was still in his (albeit faded) bloody Nightwing suit, and that made Bentley feel even more guilty.

“Your stomach seemed to be protesting your lack of food in your sleep, so I thought I’d get up and make us something,”

Bentley cringed, and he was glad Nightwing wasn’t in there to see his face turn beet red.

“I hope you like pancakes! It’s just about the only thing I can make that isn’t microwaveable. If you don’t I’ll be more than happy to make something else, though. Or… try,”

Bentley, once he recovered from his terrible embarrassment, decided he should get off the couch for once. He pushed himself up and, fighting off a slight wave of vertigo, walked up to the threshold of the kitchen and peered inside.

The vigilante was working over the stove, so focused his tongue was sticking out the side of his mouth. He had a plate next to him full of what looked like chocolate chip pancakes, and a few more on a large pan. His black hair was wet, like he’d taken a shower, which made Bentley feel a little better about keeping him in his Nightwing costume for so long. The kitchen was elongated and thin, with an island in the middle and a little two person dining table in a small space off to the left.

What did I tell you about invading my privacy?!

Bentley began to retreat back to the couch, already formulating an apology for peeking in at him, but Nightwing spoke before he even made it out of the doorway.

“How are you feeling?” The vigilante asked, glancing backwards at the child momentarily before focusing back on the food. Bentley blinked. Nightwing’s hands were too preoccupied with the pan and the batter to hurt him, unless he just chucked the entire pan at his face. He might be able to dodge projectiles if he stayed in the doorway. So he stayed.

“Better,” He muttered. He hadn’t even realized the sunlight wasn’t bothering him that much anymore. “My… head doesn’t hurt so bad.”

“That’s good. You bounce back fast. You should’ve seen me the first time I had a concussion. I was on bed rest for like, a whole week. Throwing up and everything.”

Bentley smiled faintly. It was strange — having someone just, speak to him. It wasn’t often at home that the silence was filled. Only during meetings, when mindless banter and boring chatter echoed through the halls. Extended silence was a good indicator that his father was angry at him. But Nightwing seemed to be a master at filling silence. He’d done it in the alley, and when he was fixing up Bentley’s face, and now. And the kid wasn’t going to lie and say he didn’t enjoy it just a little bit.

“I fell off the bleachers at school right on my head. Someone challenged me to do a one-arm handstand on them,” He tutted, flipping a pancake on the pan. “Gym floors aren’t very good for the head.”

Bentley’s smile grew a little less fake when he imagined a young Dick Grayson falling off of some bleachers.

The vigilante fiddled with the last pancake before flipping it onto the impressive pile of identical ones teetering on a plate. He turned the oven off and moved the pan to the sink.

“I don’t know what you like on pancakes, but there’s some syrup and whipped cream here. And like, four tubs of chocolate frosting in the pantry, if you’re into that,”

Bentley shrugged lightly, not moving from his spot in the doorway. “I’ve… never had pancakes before.”

The realization that oh yeah this kid said he was homeless only flashed across Nightwing’s face for a split second before he saved with a shrug: “Guess we’ll just have to try them all, then.”

Bentley watched silently as Nightwing moved the food to the table, gathering things from the fridge and the pantry. He eyed the child, who didn’t seem keen to move.

“You can come sit at the table if you want to. Or not. You can eat wherever.”

Bentley nodded, taking a few hesitant steps toward the little dining table. He sat in the chair closest to him and pulled his knees up.

It took a while for Bentley to convince himself to eat. Not that he didn’t want to, but food had always been something his father held over his head for control. When he was obedient, he got food, and when he wasn’t, he didn’t. And it took him about fifteen minutes to convince himself Nightwing wasn’t going to do that.

The hero told him more ridiculous stories from the other side of the table — some from his time as a hero, some from before, all the while skillfully keeping his identity as Dick Grayson hidden. He never mentioned anything about Bentley eating, but the kid did notice his smile get a little bigger when he started to.

He listened to him talk for a long time, and really enjoyed it. It came so naturally to him — Nightwing could probably talk for hours on end. Bentley found it… impressive. For a superhero. Words were something that were so easy to twist and use as ammunition that he thought vigilantes would be on the quiet side, for the sake of their identities. Words had been haunting Bentley since he was tiny, and he wasn’t even close to being a hero. Saying the wrong thing got him hurt. Admitting something made him weak. Speaking out of turn often went punished. He thought that would all be magnified for a superhero — but Nightwing spoke without reproach about everything and nothing, and didn’t seem the least bit bothered by it.

Bentley loved listening to him.

Once they’d succeeded at spending way too long at the table, and Bentley realized chocolate milk was the single best thing anyone had ever created, Nightwing put the dishes in the sink and started cleaning up.

“I have something I want to ask you,” He started, while putting all their strange condiments back in the fridge. Bentley didn’t like the way that sounded. He pulled his knees back up (he’d put them down when he was comfortable enough listening to Nightwing.) and wrapped his arms around them.

The hero made his way back to the table, returning to his previous seat. He still had a small smile, but it was more serious this time, like he was about to ask something really important. He put his hands on the table and Bentley eyed them coldly.

“I want you to be completely honest, that’s why I’m asking. Alright?” Nightwing stated, watching the child across the table, who nodded hesitantly. “If I were to find you a good place to stay, would you give it a try?”

Bentley knew this was going to happen soon. Just when he’d started to get a bit comfortable with the vigilante, nonetheless.

But he also knew Nightwing wouldn’t dare give him to a stranger. He was talking about the Wayne’s, he had to be. Who else would he know off the top of his head to take in a kid? Going to Wayne Manor was the whole point of his father’s plan. He had to.

But. He didn’t. Like. Want to?

“I… can’t just stay with you?” Bentley questioned, diverting his gaze from the vigilante’s face and focusing on the tabletop instead. Watching the man’s hands.

Nightwing snickered faintly. “Aw, kiddo, I’d love for you to stay with me. But…” He shrugged. “I… don’t think I’d be able to give you what you deserve. What you need.”

Bentley knew that was nonsense. He’d lived with his father for ten years, on half as much care and gentleness as Nightwing had given him in one night, and he was still alive. Why on earth did Nightwing think he wasn’t good enough? He was better than good enough.

“It’s a nice place with a good family, where you’ll be safe,” He continued, rapping the table with his fingertips. “I trust them completely, and… wouldn’t offer if I didn’t think it was the best option for you. There’s… not very many choices in a situation like this, kiddo.”

Bentley knew exactly what that meant. Social services. Foster care. And that would be one disaster of a mess.

“I’ll even come check on you during patrols, if you want me to,” Nightwing added, shifting slightly in his chair.

Bentley rested his chin on his knees. It was kind of ridiculous to be comforted by that, since Dick Grayson already spent a lot of time in that house — and Nightwing literally was Dick Grayson — but Bentley found himself asking anyways: “You would?”

“Definitely,” Nightwing nodded. Dick Grayson. Whatever.

As nerve-wracking as heading into a new household right after he’d gotten a little used to this one sounded, he knew he had to. The other option was foster care or jumping out a window. Neither of which would end well. He had to get into the Wayne’s because it’s what his father told him to do.

He sucked in a deep breath and blew it out. “Do you promise?”

“I promise. I’ll even memorize what window is yours,” Nightwing smiled faintly. “Hopefully I won’t fall on my head again trying to get to it.”

Bentley smiled just a little bit, but it was enough to make Nightwing’s face brighten.

“Okay,” The child muttered, fiddling with the hem on the bottom of the sweatpants. “I’ll go.”

“Great,” Nightwing stated, smiling. “You’re so brave, Bentley. Maybe one of the bravest kids I’ve ever met. You know that?”

What in the world about this situation made him brave?

Bentley said nothing, but shrugged instead. Doing everything his father said because he was scared of getting hurt didn’t seem very brave.

But Nightwing seemed convinced. So Bentley went along with it, trying to figure out what in the world made a superhero call him brave.

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💛

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macabr3-barbi3 · 8 months ago

Text

New Love, New Skin (Chapter 2)

banner made by my LOVE @fraugwinska 🩵🩷

A few months after Vincent's arrival in Hell, his relationship with Kora takes its first turn.

Tags: fast burn lol; 69 (Sex Position); Blow Jobs; Cunnilingus; Baby's First Bluescreen lol

Chapter 1 📺 Chapter 2 💛 Chapter 3 📺 Chapter 4 💛 Chapter 5 📺 Chapter 6 💛Chapter 7

September 1958

Kora was running late from work, and Vincent was only a little worried about her.

He knew that she could handle herself, like he could, but that didn’t make the vague sense of unease any easier to stomach. He had come to care for her in his own way- they were friends now, easily better friends than any he had had when he was alive. She didn’t really want anything from him, never expected him to give up more than she would give him back. It was a change from his life that he was remembering more and more about every day- people that clung to him because they thought he could help get them further in their career, thought that he could do more for them than should have been expected. It was a nice change of pace but she was almost a little too doting, sometimes; always making sure that he got his fill before she took hers whether it was food, coffee, the next book that she wanted to read.

They had established a pretty regular routine in the eight months that he had been staying with her. She would leave the apartment early in the morning for a walk, coffee pot brewing before he awoke, and he would have some form of breakfast on his own before she returned and got ready for her courier duties, delivering postage and packages all over the two rings of Hell. The woman was Hell on wheels, her bike getting her most places faster than the shitty public transit system ever could with how often it was breaking down and getting held up by turf wars. The days that she worked that job he would wait to shower until after she left; when she had the morning off he would do it while she listened to the morning news and read in the living room. She usually got home at ten these days and would go work her second job at Viv’s from noon until ten, when she would come home with some version of leftovers and tales of shitty customers. Today was a rare day that she had off from Viv’s and it was approaching 11:30 with no sign of her, and the antsy, unsettling sense of something in his gut was persistent.

Vincent had gotten his own part-time job at the news station, even if he hated it. He felt like there was so much more that they could be doing, other markets that they could be capitalizing on, other kinds of shows they could be putting out to make more profit. For now though he was just a production assistant, running scripts and coffee. He would much rather spend his time at the apartment with Kora, but he felt it was fair that he contribute at least a little after all that she had done for him- letting him stay with her rent free for months now, making sure that he had clothes and food and such before he started going out into the world, filling him in on how things worked in Hell.

The front door finally bursts open and Kora rushes through it soaked head to toe in mud, her golden hair and fur a gross shade of blackish brown. “Fucking assholes,” she seethes, “you would think some of these Overlords have better things to do than douse women on the street with their shit cars.” She crosses the living area as quick as she can, dipping into the bathroom. “Sorry, Vincent, I can’t stay long- Viv asked me to cover a shift since Eris never showed so I’m gonna be out later than usual, she’s usually scheduled til 2…” Her voice is drowned out by the shower being turned on, the faint rustling of clothes that Vincent could hear fading out.

He was a little put out by the news- he had been looking forward to hanging out with her one night off from Viv’s, which was now a full blown second job instead of just a gig for extra cash. They had agreed to stick together and try to find a bigger place, two bedrooms instead of just the one so they both had their own space. He had been missing her, how close they had been for a good while before he said something stupid and ruined it.

Kora had been getting physically closer to him over the time he had been staying with her- the distance between them on the couch ever-dwindling; her feet propped on his lap or head slumped close to his shoulder while they listened to the radio and read together; her entering the bathroom to grab something while he was naked and showering. A physical kind of closeness that he had never shared with anyone before. He had thought she was coming onto him, when she crowded him against the counter where he was leaning one day to reach around him for something instead of asking him to move or to grab it for her.

“You know,” Vincent had said, his voice low and suave, “you keep getting close to me like this and I might start getting the wrong idea.” He had been sure, so sure that she would take the bait, admit that she wanted him. Push up onto her tiptoes to close the last couple of inches between their faces like he had been craving for weeks, since he had noticed with startling clarity that he was attracted to her, and could want more.

Instead she had blushed, whined in her throat, backed away from him. Kora muttered an apology and scampered off that day and hadn’t been any closer than two feet from him since. It was driving him mad- he jerked off in the shower more days than he didn’t, both for easy cleanup and since it was really the only place he could get any privacy. She had only walked in during that one time, and the sudden shock of hearing her “sorry, Vin, I need this real quick” had had him spilling into his hand with a barely concealed groan, covering it up by coughing hard and throwing her a thumbs up through the curtain with his unoccupied hand. Since she had stopped touching him, stopping coming into the bathroom, he was constantly hard, constantly frustrated.

The bathroom door squeaks open, and when Vincent comes out of his head and looks down the hallway he nearly chokes on his tongue.

It’s quick, a few seconds at most, but Kora is crossing the hallway from the bathroom to her bedroom in nothing but a towel, wrapped around her body under the arms and falling to her thighs. High on her thighs. He lets his eyes flick from the hem of the towel down her shapely legs and strong calves, reveling in the sight of her skin. Back up to the curve of her breasts, pushed up slightly be her crossed arms holding the towel in place before she disappeared into the bedroom. This felt different from when she wore her oversized shirts to bed, even though they hardly covered much more; here and now, besides the towel, she was bare. He could see it in his mind, how easy it would be to remove the cover with a mere brush of his hand, have her naked before him-

He was half-hard, he realized with a start, his prick stirring in his pants at the thought, and he’s mortified, grabbing the blanket off the back of the couch and throwing it in a heap over his lap. Vincent had no qualms about masturbation, but he didn’t relish the thought of Kora witnessing his erection caused by an accidental peep show as she crossed the hallway.

Good timing, as she emerged from her bedroom in the next minute. “Gotta dash,” she tells him, throwing her hair up into a ponytail. “You should probably be sleeping by the time I come home but help yourself to the leftovers in the fridge for dinner!” And she’s gone as quickly as she had come, door slamming behind her and leaving Vincent in a state of arousal and longing.

He watches her go, unlocking her bike and giving him her usual wave before she takes off. He stays seated as he is for a moment, wrestling with his subconscious; to rub one out or let it go away on its own? He had already showered once today, he didn’t really need to have another one. But the memory of her towel-clad frame was fresh on his mind and far too tempting; the dark shadow the towel cast on the space between her thighs, the droplets of water that dripped from her hair and down the expanse of her back, face flushed from the heat.

He stands with a growl and heads to the bathroom, his plan being to splash some cool water on his neck- he didn’t think doing it to his face would help much- and ignore the now prominent hardness in his pants. But as soon as he enters he’s struck by the overwhelming scent of her soap, soft and feminine, like almond and honey and something that was so distinctly Kora . Vincent is already bent over the sink, and he sees his eyes change when the smell registers, the pupils getting wider, the pixels that act as eyelids dropping as his screen tints pink. She had just been here not fifteen minutes before, rubbing at her naked body, possibly dipping her hand between those plush thighs-

Vincent hardly has his hand shoved down his pants and wrapped around his cock enough to manage a full stroke before he’s coming, Kora’s name leaving him with a gasp, grasping the porcelain of the sink hard enough to cause a hairline fracture.

~~~~~~~

He throws his soiled clothes in the hamper and changes, determined now to not think about Kora for the rest of the evening. No matter how lovely she had looked in nothing but her towel. How lovely she looked all the time, really, in whatever she was wearing-

No, Vincent. Fucking stop.

He reminds himself that she doesn’t want him- he had offered her an invitation and she declined it. But fuck, if only that was enough to stop himself from wanting her. He would have to move out eventually; he couldn’t just stay here, wanting her when she was within arms reach and never being able to have her.

He reads to distract himself, having finished what was currently out of the Narnia books and moving on to Kora’s Agatha Christie collection. They kept his brain busy enough that he went a couple hours without the thought of her crossing his mind, mostly- sometimes he would get a little flash of an image, like a screensaver, of her face, of her body wrapped in the towel or covered with one of those damn t-shirts she wears. He would glare at the wall for a moment to clear his thoughts and go back to the book, more and more frustrated every time it happened.

He finally ends up more hungry than bored, so he does bust out the leftovers that she had mentioned, planning on having a light meal before turning in for the night. Apparently the part of his brain wired to his prick had other ideas though, since his thought process went ‘chicken legs > regular legs > Kora’s legs > wrapped around waist?’ and rerouted all of his blood between his own legs.

“Fuckin’ christ,” he snarls at his traitorous body, appetite vanishing at his once again ridiculously persistent bodily urges. It had only been a few hours since the bathroom, since he had taken himself in hand to the fresh memory of Kora’s wet body; he hadn’t been insatiable like this when he was alive, he was positive. He throws the leftover container back into the fridge with a groan, looking at the clock that hung on the wall.

It was only ten in the evening- in theory, he had time to jerk off a second time before Kora came home from her later shift, rid himself of the pulsing ache in his groin when he thought of her today.

Vincent settles back into the couch, pulls his shirt off to catch the mess he was sure to make and fists his cock. If he was going to do this he would do it right this time- let himself savor the mental images of Kora instead of trying to banish them. His eyes close and he pictures her again in the hallway, in the towel, but she comes towards him this time, lets the towel drop to the floor as she approaches so he can see her in all of her glory.

He imagines reaching for her, cupping the warmth of her cunt with his large hands and pressing a finger in, already wet and ready for him. She would whine like she had that day in the kitchen but it would be because she wanted him, was ready for him to spread her legs and have his way with her already. Vincent would tease her, let his free hand run over her body, pinch and kiss and lick at her skin and her breasts, leave a trail of little marks in his wake that would show the world that he had had her. She would buck her hips into his hand, desperate for him, say his name in that sweet voice of hers.

And he would indulge her- he would let her ride his fingers until she was dripping with desire, lick her essence from his hands before laying her out on her bed and sliding into her slick heat. She would clench around him so perfectly, he knew she would. And she would want it slow and sweet at first, until it was too much, until she was begging him to fuck her harder, faster, more , and he would give it to her however the fuck she wanted. He wanted to lose his mind at the feeling of her walls pulling him into her, wringing every drop of ecstasy from his body with a cry of his name-

“Vincent?”

“Kora,” he moans, before he recognizes that the voice in his head had actually come from the door of the apartment, that the woman he was fantasizing about was standing not five feet away from him, eyes wide and trained on where he was jerking his cock to the thought of her. Vincent wishes he could say he had any sense of self preservation- instead he groans in his throat and strokes back down himself, instead of taking his fucking hands off his dick.

He closes his eyes again, doesn’t want to see the disgust on her face when she kicks him out for being a goddamn pervert. “God, Kora I’m so-“

“Vin.” Her voice is closer, much closer than he would have anticipated, and when he opens his eyes again he almost dies a second time at the sight of her knelt on the ground before him, hands coming up to rest in his knees. “Were you… thinking of me?”

She doesn’t look upset about the prospect- if he’s reading her right, she’s intrigued. Interested. “Yes,” he murmurs, helpless to lie or deny or put his fucking prick away, still held in the light grip of his fist. “Fuck, you know I was, baby.”

She bites her lip, eyes flicking between his screen and the leaking head of his dick. “I- can I?” She asks, reaching her hand towards his, and he doesn’t even care that the way he nods is desperate, so eager to have her hands on him that he doesn’t care how stupid he looks, eyes closing since he’s sure the sight of it would be too much.

Imagine his surprise when instead of her hand, a warm, wet mouth closes around the head of his cock. He swallows back a curse as his eyes fly open, taking in the image of Kora bent over into his lap, pulling off the tip to lick at the fluid that drips from his aching erection, eyes closed like she’s fucking savoring the taste of him. “Fuck me, that’s sexy,” he mutters, and Kora’s lashes flutter to look back up at him and take him in her mouth again, sucking lightly. Her tongue laps at the underside, traces the vein that she finds and makes him groan. His fingers clench at his side, fighting back the urge to twist them into her golden locks and pull ever so slightly.

Was he so sensitive back on Earth? Vincent couldn’t remember ever having a mouth on him that felt so fucking good before, but whether that was a testament to Kora or his still-new demon anatomy he couldn’t tell. “God, Kora,” he groans, “so fucking good, you’ve no idea-“

Her tail swishes across the floor behind her, a whine vibrating in her throat that ripples down his length, makes him buck his hips up into the wet heat of her. “Sorry, sorry,” he’s quick to say, but she takes him further into her mouth anyway, claws digging into the fabric of his pants where they grip his knees. It’s fucking divine, the feeling of her throat when he bumps it with the head of his cock, and the pleasurable tension in his abdomen is tightening, threatening to snap when he notices that Kora’s hips are shifting, subtly grinding into the air like she’s subconsciously searching for friction- something that he’s suddenly desperate to give her. He wants to lick into her cunt while she takes him into her mouth as far as she can- he’d only done something similar a few times on Earth, certainly hadn’t done it since he had come to Hell. But he thinks he might just about die if he can’t taste her.

“Stop, Kora, wait,” Vincent mumbles, finally wrapping his fingers in her hair so he can pull her off of him.

Her eyes are glazed, flicking between his erection and his face, her own face flushed and panting. “Am I- did I do something wrong?” She asks quietly, her hands leaving his knees and moving like she means to pull back entirely until he shifts his grasp from her hair to the side of her face, cupping her cheek.

“No, doll,” he says, taking a moment to breathe and stroke his thumb over her cheekbone. “I’m just too close- and I want you to come, too. Can I taste you? We can- at the same time, you know?” He hopes she’s understanding what he means, prayers answered when she hesitates only a moment before nodding and standing, pulling him behind her to the bedroom.

~~~~~~~

Vincent strips Kora down slowly, relishes in the gradual exposure of her skin and fur, so much better than his fantasy of letting her towel fall from her body. He gets to watch her shiver as his claws trail over her limbs and down the plane of her stomach, suck in a breath when his fingers dip below the waistband of her pants to tug them off of her. The shaky whimper she lets out when he undoes the clasp of her bra and cups her breasts is going to live in his mind forever, he’s sure of it, and he can’t help bending down to meet her lips, licking into her mouth and moaning at the taste of himself.

She clutches at his shirt, fingers fumbling to get the buttons undone and off his body. She whines when he presses a finger between her slick folds, mindful of the sharpness of them now and as careful as he can be with it when he pushes into her and loses his breath at her tightness. “Please, Vincent,” she’s whispering into his mouth between delicious slides of their tongues against one another, trying to drag his pants the rest of the way off of him, and he thinks he would rather choke than not give her what she wants. He would never deny her anything if she asked him in that tone.

They discard the rest of their clothing, and there’s a brief moment of awkwardness from Kora when Vincent lays back on the bed and encourages her to crawl over his body. Her face flushes; “I’ve never done anything like this before,” she says, unmoving from the edge of the bed, and his cock aches with his need for her.

“I promise you it’s fine,” he reassures her, “and you’re going to love it. But we can stop, if you want to.” It might kill him not to get his tongue inside of her, but if she was uncomfortable he wouldn’t push the issue.

Her brow twists and she straightens her shoulders, climbing up onto the mattress on her knees and situating herself opposite him, her hair tickling his thighs where she’s bent over him, breath hot over his straining cock. “Like this?” She asks, looking down her body back at him with a shy smile, and with a groan he situates his hands on her skin and drags her hips down to his mouth.

When his tongue dips into her Kora cries out, and for one of the first times since getting to Hell he’s glad for his new form- the muscle in his mouth is long and flexible, strong. He didn’t really have a jaw; he could eat her out for hours and probably never get tired or sore, he realized, and the thought drives his hips up, head of his cock bumping against her cheek where her head has fallen forward. And the fucking taste of her is intoxicating, the slick moisture of her folds on his tongue sending whatever constituted as a brain for him reeling at it.

Her mouth finally closes back around the head of his cock, moaning when his tongue pushes into her cunt and flicks against her walls. The muscles of her thighs are tensed around his head where she kneels, hips subtly grinding down onto his mouth and screen, her arousal dripping from her core as she whines around him, bobbing her head in time with his tongue thrusting into her and pulling back to lick and suck at her clit. “Fuck, Kora baby, that’s fucking perfect,” he mutters into her pussy, “taste so sweet- perfect- f-f- fuck-” Something seems to be happening to his vocal cords; a strange tightening of them in his throat that, while not painful, is making it harder for words to come out. It makes sense he wouldn’t have noticed this before- he wasn’t usually so vocal on the cusp of an orgasm. But he needed her to know that she was being perfect for him, and the words simply fell from his mouth.

Kora seemed to enjoy it if the faint quivering swishes of her tail were anything to go by, brushing against the parts of his screen that weren’t buried between her legs as she takes him deeper. Her claws dig into the skin of his leg on one side and her throat convulses around him when he hits the back of it, a sinfully good squeeze around him while her tongue works tirelessly at the underside. Her free hand comes up to cup the delicate skin that rests below his cock, massaging gently with her fingers in a way that makes him grunt, the pleasure making his head hazy with want.

He tilts his head up, pushes his screen as close to her as he can possibly get, grabs her tail to hold it out of the way while he works. He tightens his grip on the appendage’s base for a moment before releasing it, and he’s rewarded with Kora freezing in his arms for a split second and then trembling uncontrollably as she comes, her hoarse shout of his name muffled by Vincent’s cock. He bucks his hips up, can’t control the action, and when she gags he struggles to bring his pelvis back down to the mattress. He coaxes her through her orgasm with his tongue, flicking gently at her sensitive clit and cleaning up what he can reach of the mess she’s made between them. He runs his hand down the flank of her back, fur damp with sweat from the exertion of her pleasure, of holding herself up above him. “So perfect, baby,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to her thigh and rolling them both to the side.

She gives an inquisitive moan when he pulls out of the sweet slickness of her mouth and repositions, crouched over her bare form with a hand slid under her head to twist into her hair, the other wrapping firmly around his cock. “God, Kora, I’m so close,” he breathes, impending release making his voice waver in the air between them, and she reaches down to lay her hand over his as he jerks himself, the taste of her still fresh on his tongue and the absolute vision of her spread beneath him.

“Vin, please,” she pleads, bringing her unbusy hand up to grip at his bicep, her voice low and needy, and this is what sends him careening over the chasm into his release, vision going white with the force of it.

There’s a few blissful moments of nothing. Vincent feels like he’s floating, body non-corporeal and light.

When his vision returns he’s looking up at Kora, her expression concerned and teary-eyed, hair hanging over his screen like a curtain. Evidence of his orgasm splatters her chest and abdomen, fur streaked with it in a way that makes his brain fuzzy with a sort of possessive satisfaction. “Jesus Christ,” she whispers. “I thought you fucking died.”

“Huh?” His head is still a little blurry, reaching a hand up to cup her cheek. “Whadya mean?”

“Your screen went blank,” she says, and drops her head to his chest. “Just blinked right out, and you weren’t responding. I thought I- I thought you might have been hurt.”

“Oh. No, I’m fine. More than fucking fine.” He grins, shark teeth on proud display as he looks down at her, guides her head back up to look at him. “Must be something about the TV head getting overloaded. We’ll look into it so it doesn’t happen again, how’s that sound? Take it as a compliment this time.” She lays down beside him, head still resting on his chest and trying to calm her frantic breathing. He smoothes a hand down her hair, giving one of her ears a little scratch like his mom’s dog used to enjoy. “Really, I’m okay.”

She sighs, the exhale hot against his skin. “If you say so. Please let me know if anything starts to feel weird?”

“What are you, my nurse? I’ll be alright, don’t worry.”

She’s quiet for a second and he thinks maybe he’s upset her until she says, “I was a nurse. Before Hell, I mean; just a general staff nurse, not anything crazy. But head injuries were always treated really seriously and I just- panicked, I guess.” She curls further into his wide, tail waving anxiously behind her. “Sorry.”

She hadn’t given him so much information about her life before Hell before- he figured she had done something in the medical field from the anatomy textbooks but this was the first time she had really been forthcoming with the information. “I’ll let you know if anything feels weird,” he promises her, and snakes a finger under her chin to tilt her face up to look at him. “Don’t apologize for, you know. Caring. Being you. There’s nothing wrong with that.” Her eyebrows scrunch and Vincent can’t resist the urge to tease her a bit. “Come on, where’s that post-orgasmic glow I was expecting? How’s a guy supposed to enjoy pillow talk with a pretty girl when she’s worried about the wrong head?”

She knocks her fist against said head but still laughs, the huff of her breath fanning across the expanse of his chest. “Idiot,” she says, but her tone is vaguely affectionate. “So, what do we do now?” She lets her fingers dance over the skin of his abdomen and his lower half twitches in interest.

If just one orgasm was enough to short circuit his head though, going for a second so soon was probably not the move. “We could shower,” he offers. “Though I suppose the pillow talk could still survive the blow to my ego. What made you come home early?”

Kora’s face pulls into a grimace. “Eris showed up- hours late, of course, but Viv said that since it wasn’t crazy busy I could go home at my normal time. Eris is great, of course, but her time management is just non-existent.” She gives him a sweet smile. “I take it you don’t usually touch yourself on the couch like that when I’m at work?”

“Not usually, no. But I-” His screen crackles with a faint static- his new brand of blushing, he supposed, which was only a bit embarrassing. “I might have noticed you stepping out of the shower in just your towel earlier. It might have made me a little crazy.”

Her laughter is a smooth, rumbling thing against his chest, almost more like a cat than a dog. “I’ll keep that in mind if I ever get an inkling to try and seduce you on purpose,” she says, and then she’s rolling away from him, sat on the edge of the bed and stretching her muscles, the flex of them subtle and strong. “Speaking of showers though, I’m going to take one.” She looks at him over her shoulder, eyebrow cocked playfully. “You could join me, if you want? Save a little water.”

At the renewed thought of her wet and naked, his dick throbs with interest- but fuck, he needed to have some semblance of control over himself when it came to Kora. “Trust me, doll, I want ,” he says, and delights in the pink that rises to her cheeks. “But I think my body needs a bit of a break- don’t want to go dark on you again, especially not in a wet environment,” he adds, knocking lightly on the side of his head. “Maybe since it's not too late though we could watch the news? I was looking forward to hanging out with you today before you got called in to Viv’s, we could still do something else. I can give you all the gossip going on down at the station?”

Her eyes crinkle with her smile. “I would like that. I’ll be quick- you could throw some popcorn on the stove?”

“Do you insist on adding that sickeningly sweet shit to it?”

“You know it.” With a wink she exits the bedroom, the rattling of the water through the pipes echoing through the bedroom a moment later. Heaving a sigh he sits up and gathers his clothing, pulling his boxers on and bringing everything to the living room to put in the bathroom hamper when Kora was finished. He washes his hands and gets the corn kernels out, throwing some onto a pan on the stove with some salt and a slab of butter. He can hear Kora singing softly to herself in the shower and feels the mouth on his screen quirk up on one side.

Kernels popping, he gets her little container of cinnamon and sugar out of the cabinet and splits the snack between two bowls, dumping some of the concoction on Kora’s portion when he hears the bathroom door open. He resists the temptation to glance down the hallway, instead switching the television in the living room on and switching to the evening news channel.

They’re just coming off commercial when Kora comes out of the bedroom, large t-shirt covering her frame and settling on the couch beside him, knees under her body to prop herself up a bit. But this time she’s not sitting a couple inches away like she had been the last couple weeks- their thighs are pressing together, close enough for him to feel her skin, to throw an arm over her shoulder if he wanted to. She takes her popcorn with a smile, laughing at the face he makes when she pops a couple pieces into her mouth. “You’ve never even tried it before,” she tells him, and throws a couple pieces into his bowl. “Give it a taste.”

Vincent sighs but still submits, tosses the pieces into his mouth along with a couple of his own. He has to admit that it’s good- a hint of salty with the sweet, its a tasty contrast in his mouth, as loathe as he is to give in to her. Instead of feeding her ego he simply grabs a handful from both of their bowls and swaps them so they both had a bit of each, and Kora’s laughter rings in his ears.

She listens to him rant about the newscaster for a bit- “fucking Richard , thinks he’s so goddamn cool because he gets to cover the late news when all of the interesting shit goes down. You think anyone would believe a word out of his shit mouth if they knew what I knew? This just in-” he lets a bit of old-timey static into his voice, a fun trick that he had learned, leaning forward like there’s a desk or a camera in front of him. “Big Shot Richard from Nine Rings News has been repeatedly spotted just begging for one of his PA’s to fuck him before the 3AM news flash, and cries like a little bitch when he tells him no!”

She giggles, leaning further into his side to hide her face in his shoulder, and his heart thumps inside his chest. “You should get into news,” she tells him. “Richard is fine but you would really catch people’s attention I think- your head is even a TV, you’re just meant for people to watch you!”

He runs his hand down her spine even as he shakes his head. “I was a broadcaster on Earth,” he admits, honest with her like she had been with him earlier. “Worked at the news station like I do now but behind the desk- morning news though, not evening. I don’t know if I want to get back into that down here but maybe I’ll look into moving up the ranks. Ah fuck, here comes Joy Jagoff, you’re going to hate her-”

Hours pass, Vincent making Kora laugh with tales about the people at work, their popcorn supply dwindling, Kora’s head dropping fully against his shoulder when the late hour gets to her and she falls asleep on the couch with him. He debates moving her back to her own room, but decides against it- the temptation would be too strong, he thinks, to have her again, and despite how good that sounds he still figures he should give his body a rest.

Instead he repositions so he’s leaning back against his pillows, Kora held gently spread along the planes of his body. He pulls the blanket down from the back of the couch and covers the two of them, his screen blinking out while Joy Jagoff runs her mouth in the background, lulling him to sleep with the steady breathing of the woman sleeping on his chest.

🩵❤️🩵❤️🩵

Chapter 1 📺 Chapter 2 💛 Chapter 3 📺 Chapter 4 💛 Chapter 5 📺 Chapter 6 💛Chapter 7

#hazbin hotel #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #vox fanfiction #vox smut #vox hazbin hotel #GOLDENVISION #Kora (OC)#vox x oc #ily frau <3

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seat-safety-switch · 2 years ago

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When I took my first, tentative steps into adult life, leaving behind the quasi-government-appointed not-relative who had taken care of me when my aspiring-circus-performer parents found a travelling gig that they refused to give up, I moved into a teeny-tiny condominium. Such a construct is not uncommon in today’s rush-rush society, where we spend more conscious time at work than we do at home. I simply didn’t need a big house, and besides, it brought some aspects of community and shared struggle. Namely, I realized the first time I showed up and saw two greasy-looking guys in the parking lot hauling a 2-litre engine out of a Jetta, there might be an engine crane I can borrow.

Of course, it didn’t work out that way. Back then, I was still convinced that a full-time job was the way to keep a roof over my head and food in my stomach. Before the squatting and shoplifting. Before the real heaps. So I was at work all the time, filing reports, knowing how to operate PowerPoint, and trying desperately to climb up the ladder fast enough that I wouldn’t be consumed by the dark fires of lifestyle creep and endless debt. The Jetta guys moved on, or they were evicted, or they went to prison, and they took their engine crane with them.

All this is probably for the best. I think sometimes about the alternate path that my life would have taken if I had hung out with Volkswagen owners, instead of the rag-tag pile of beatniks that I did eventually find on my third complete stress-related mental breakdown. I’d probably be working at some bank on Wall Street now, pinstripe suit, hair cut, doing rails of coke at my desk between arbitrage deals. And I’d be driving something like a base-model Passat that I could barely afford. Is that other me happy? Probably, because he would likely also have a garage full of 1970s through modern-era German trashmobiles to fiddle with.

One day, I’ll find someone who is willing to lend me an engine crane, too. For now, I’ve been using a complicated block-and-tackle arrangement known as “drive it up on a Jersey barrier and sawzall the only good part of the car out onto a skateboard.” They don’t build skateboards like they used to, I can tell you that much.

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dickytwister · 6 months ago

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HELLO HI may we please have an official andy introduction 🤲 and also five fun facts about him and also his top five friends please and thank you

of course my liege 🫡🫡 official andy introduction post time

andy (full name andy rey chavez) is not only the most normal man in night city: he’s also the most feared mercenary that has never existed. not everyone is meant to be a hero, and thank god for that, because andy is far from being main character material. he has a shitty part-time job as a cook in a generic fast-food somewhere in heywood and spends the rest of his time working as a handyman, fixing rich people’s appliances everywhere in night city. it’s a simple life, one that he’s almost content with; he doesn’t need the thrill of mercenary life, or the privilege of being wealthy, but he does wish there was more to life than cooking bad food and busting his back to unclog a pipe for someone who’ll barely give enough tip to pay rent. he doesn’t mean to become a merc, but it kinda just. happens. he needs the eddies and even working two ass jobs simply does not cover his expenses, so he finds a fixer, doesn’t bother making up a cool name like “v”, shows up in his plumber clothes, gives his actual name to the dude, and gets sent on a job to steal some intel from a businessman somewhere in city center. an in-and-out gig, no blood, barely any risk. easy. and he somehow manages to fuck it up so, so bad simply by walking into the wrong room. the moment he opens the door, a dozen men turn to look at him. they don’t look very polite, if the way they glare and reach for their weapons means anything. before he can make his exit, however, the men all turn towards each other and start pointing fingers, accusing one another of bringing in backup. from one second to the next, everyone’s weapons are out and it’s all andy can do to hide behind a couch as gunshots erupt across the room. andy sneaks out—runs out, actually, in a very scooby-doo fashion—and goes back home, his gig completely forgotten. during the following weeks, word on the street has it that a new mysterious merc has left carnage in his wake, brutally murdering many high-ranking gang members, leaving the criminal underworld in shambles. no one knows his name, but he apparently calls himself “the handyman.” he goes back to his normal life, or tries to, hoping no one traces the event back to him. unbeknownst to him, his actions have attracted the attention of both bella, night city’s most desired flower, and finley, a fellow merc just trying to get some peace.

that’s pretty much all i have for now!! onto the rest now >:]

fun facts:

1- he puts the bi in bitchless. negative rizz. and YET. he still manages to score not one, but TWO baddies, namely bella and finley. they simply cannot resist his loser personality. 2- he cannot drive. does not own a license. does not own a car. what he does have is a scooter just small enough that he has to bend his back in an uncomfortable position to reach the handlebar. can’t afford anything else in this economy. 3- he was once dared to get a tramp stamp, but chickened out the moment the needle touched his skin, so his tattoo consists of a single dot on his tailbone. he tells people it’s a beauty mark. 4- he’s an amazing solo dancer, yet turns into a klutz the moment he has a partner. steps on toes. knees groins. spins people into walls. he’s very bad at this. he’d rather line dance. 5- all his cyberwares are either outdated or repurposed: an mp3 in his ear, a metal plaque on his forehead from bumping his head too much and the tip of a finger from chopping it off while cooking (he got distracted). 6- bonus fun fact: while he loves cooking, he vastly prefers cooking for others. meeting bella and finley is good that way, because they give him a reason to use his kitchen for the first time since [redacted].

top 5 friends (in no particular order):

1- bella. she’s the malfina to his connecticut clark. she’s the girlboss and he’s the malewife. it works for them. whatever bella sees in him, andy hopes it’s enough for her to stay. 2- finley. being besties-with-a-crush with finley is the most stressful part of andy’s life, but he wouldn’t trade it for the world. 3- misty. it’s not widely known, but andy is quite spiritual. he and misty spend time together at her shop, where the vibes slap. 4- hyun-soo. kinda weird, having a friend who’s definitely got some cyberpsychosis going on, but it’s fine. they have dinner together from time to time and hyun-soo always pays. 5. river. ncpd’s only uncorrupted cop befriends night city’s most feared merc. thank god they’re both actually softies and one of them is just some loser guy.

#oc:andy #he's such a squeaky toy to me. literally just some guy in the most weird city in the world #if some of this doesn't make sense it's bc i haven't played the game in ages. don't look at me i simply cannot restart it #he probably has more friends than this but it took me so long to come up with those ASLDKJSDFL #cyberpunk 2077 #answered;

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mortiskiller · 1 year ago

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Could you give me genuine advice on how to gain weight? I don’t eat enough in a day and I’m not exactly well off where I can buy myself fast food every single day. Any advice/tips? My goal is to gain an additional 30 lbs. I don’t have a feeder but I would love to be overweight again. I just want to be fat again!!!! It makes me really disappointed bc I’m stuck at this weight right now.

Gaining weight is hard if you don't stick to a schedule, especially if money is an issue.

1. You may need to have repetition in your diet. Pasta, beans, chicken thighs, and root veggies are cheap and easy to cook. With some solid recipes and time, you can easily eat 3k or 4k calories a day with those ingredients. Before I got a good paying job, I had a stable of about 4 recipes I rotated through each week to stay on budget but not lose weight.

2. Liquid calories are easy but not cheap. Cream is a typical option given the calories per dollar ratios. Usually, $1 is roughly 750 calories for a quart of cream. Try to mix with with simple ingredients like syrups, fruit, or baked goods for some better flavor.

3. Know your exercise level and how many calories you need to maintain your weight. My daily requirement of calories to not lose weight is around 3500 since I work out quite a bit. If your job has you on your feet or moving a lot, you need to be aware of calorie deficits. It's not fun to track calories, but given your situation, you may have to. Your body can't store fat if there are no excess calories to do that with.

4. Light to moderate exercise helps to keep your appetite normal and helps you feel hungrier faster. I am at a point with my workout routine that I can eat 2k for a meal and be hungry in less than an hour. Walking, weight lifting, and even yoga at home can be a great help.

5. Weight fluctuates, and that is ok. In a month, my weight goes as low as 285 and as high as 310, depending on some of the factors listed above. Your weight will not always be going up given you say money is a limiting factor.

6. Your body may not be geared toward gaining, and that's fine. Some body types struggle to gain or keep on weight. It's part genetics, part hormones, and part metabolism.

That is a lot and I am sure others have advice as well. Overall, there is no full proof way of gaining short of massive quantities of food all the time. It's easy to gain when you can spend 2k a month on take out!

Personally, don't be disappointed about not gaining. It's easier for some people for a number of reasons. Find what works for you and celebrate the little victories on your journey!

Hope that helps!

#ask #gaining is a journey #dont let other peoples gains make you feel inferior

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pokechbi · 2 years ago

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Chapter 4 <3

The cold November wind bit at my cheeks as I walked down the street, tote bags in hand. I was walking down the street to the local grocery store. I had really underestimated how cold it would be up here on the northern part of the East Coast. Pulling my jacket closer to me, I look up at the sky and let out a shaky breath.

After Detective Loki had left the other night, I made myself busy with house chores and ordered Chinese takeout for Mark and I. He came home and pretty much left me alone, which I was used to. I couldn't complain, though. It was easier to be left alone than to be pestered by a man-child that I wasn't even sure I loved anymore.

It was a hard task, hiding all of my subconscious smiles from him when thinking about Detective Loki. I knew that if he saw me smiling to myself like an idiot for no reason at all, he'd know something was up. As much as I wanted to settle down and start a new chapter in this sleepy little town, I wanted so bad to get away from Mark. I needed to get away from him. I wanted to go to New York City, become a freelance writer and live my dream. Or just start it somewhere, at least. Some place where I couldn't be found. And with the sea of bustling people in New York, it seemed like the perfect place. I would maybe even travel, or find love somewhere in the breezy countryside of Paris, France. It's a cliché dream, but it's what I wanted, and what I strived for. I smiled to myself thinking of traveling with Detective Loki, but I shot it down instinctively. I didn't even know the man. Before I met Mark, I had aspirations. I had a heart full of love and gave it to the first person who asked. And it got me nowhere good. I didn't want to make the same mistake again.

With my jean-covered legs being on auto-pilot and my mind elsewhere, I reached the main street pretty fast. Watching the bustle of the neighborhood brought me a small joy. I strolled past some city workers putting up Christmas decorations. I wondered if I could get out by Christmas. But as much as the thought of leaving to New York City so soon appealed to me, I wanted to take a break from being so on edge. Mark was working nearly all day, and I usually had the house to myself, to do whatever I wanted until I would start my new job. I made a mental note to myself to keep myself calm, and stay on Mark's good side if I wanted my temporary stay here to be the least bit enjoyable.

I took a deep breath, and inhaled the crispy winter air that smelled of wet leaves and café food. Entering the market, I grabbed a shopping cart and headed to the first isle I saw. I planned on walking around for a good bit, getting to know the market and what I could bring home all by myself. I need to invest in a car, once I start working. I can't rely on him to take me everywhere. i thought to myself.

Walking mindlessly throughout the isles, I reached the frozen section where I planned on rummaging. I loved to cook, I thought of it as an art. I cooked all the time when Mark and I first started dating. He loved my cooking, and that was one of the first things we did together once we made our relationship official. We loved to do it together. But now, I couldn't bring myself to put as much love into it as I used to. I missed it.

I picked up some frozen garlic toast, pondering making Spaghetti and Meatballs for dinner, when I heard a familiar voice behind me.

"I personally like the New York Bakery brand. Or better yet, homemade." I turned and was face-to-face with Detective Loki. He was wearing a black winter coat, zipped up to his jaw, covering that neck tattoo that I liked to stare at. His hair was slicked back and neat as always, and his smell instantly drifted towards my direction. I remembered not to sniff so hard this time.

"Oh! It's you" I say with a toothy grin and a chuckle. "Yeah, I make a bomb garlic toast from scratch, but I'm not in a huge cooking mood today, you know how it is." I toss the toast into my cart with a shrug, leaning on my shopping cart to face him.

"Trust me, I understand." He looks at me with a sarcastic smile, motioning to his shopping basket, filled with instant ramen noodles and a case of energy drinks. I let out a hearty laugh, feeling heat rise up to my cheeks. As funny as it was, I felt bad for him. I could tell he needed a better diet, especially with the hard work and long hours he does.

"How's everything going? With the case, you know." I say, my smile fading. I couldn't even imagine the pain this case was causing everyone. Detective Loki included. It must have been why his diet only consisted of instant noodles and energy drinks.

"Oh. You know. It's been rough on everyone. The first 48 hours always is. We're holding the first search party tonight, if you want to come on by and help the girls' families out. I'm sure they'd appreciate it."

"Yeah, I'd love that. I'm sorry, haven't heard about it on the news or anything. Haven't invested in a TV just yet, haha." I say with a light giggle. "What time is the search party?" I look up at his eyes, feeling a rush of heat through my body. He made eye contact with me, taking a second to respond, his eyes blinking a couple times before he spoke.

"At 6. It's about a quarter to. You can stop by at the station and we'll be handing out vests and gear and all that stuff." I was more than happy to help out. I wanted to try my best and help these families find their daughters. If it were my child, I'd want people to do the same.

"Sounds good. " I smile and a nod. "I'll walk home and drop this stuff off and I'll be on my way. My place is probably a 15 minute walk from here." I say, tucking a piece of my hair behind my ear.

"Let me drive you." He says in a firm tone. I hesitated for a second, "No, I couldn't ask you to do that. I don't live that far." I say with a nervous chuckle.

"Don't mention it." He says, waving a hand in dismissal. "It's cold out, and you've got a lot of groceries to handle. It's the least I can do." He says with a gentle smile. "You can count this as a favor returned for that great coffee you made me." He says. I couldn't help but smile at his absolute charm. His vibe was so comforting. I wanted to give him a hug and never let go.

"I'll go ahead and checkout, and I'll meet you in the front of the store. Sound good?" He says. I didn't even get a chance to refuse it. He was so persistent in helping me. I loved that about him already. I didn't feel a tiny bit guilty wanting to get into his car and talk a bit more, even if it was for a short time before he had to get back to work.

"Alright then" I say in happy defeat. "I'm almost done here." I mention towards the isle of frozen foods.

"No worries, take your time." He says strolling away into the next isle.

...

Lugging my bags of groceries to the front of the store, I feel a hand on my back and a woman's voice speak out to me.

"Miss, let me help you with that. You've got an awful lot of groceries there for such a small lady." She says with a chuckle. I turn to face her, and I'm face to face with an average height woman, who looks to be in her fifties. She had frizzy graying hair, and some outdated glasses. What's with these people and their 80's glasses? I think to myself.

"Oh, it's alright, thank you so much. I've got someone to help me, but thanks so much for the offer, umm..."

"Holly. Holly Jones. And no, I insist. Let me help you carry this to your car, please." She was insistent on helping me, and wouldn't let me say no. Her persistence caught me off guard and put me off a bit, but I was stuck in a position where I couldn't leave, or decline her offer. I clearly wasn't able to carry them alone.

"That's alright, Mrs. Jones. I can help her carry them." Detective Loki walked up to us, slightly waving a hand in dismissal in Holly's direction. She looked up at him above her glasses, a frown plastered on her wrinkled face.

"Ahhh. Detective...Loki, was it? The man who let my son be attacked by a deranged man." She said in a low tone. I didn't know what she was talking about, but I could feel the tension rising. "Say, Detective, did you arrest that man for assault? I would hope so, considering your reputation around here." She says, looking around. There wasn't many people left in the store, but the cashiers were starting to take notice of the situation forming.

Embarrassed, I looked at Detective Loki, his eyes blinking rapidly and his brows furrowing. He bends down to grab my bags, and avoids eye contact with the woman. "Let's go, Cass." He says harshly. God, I loved the way my name rolled off of his tongue. I follow after him, looking back at the woman who had a smug smirk on her face, both hands gripping her shopping cart handle.

"He wouldn't be in this position if he kept his daughter on a tighter leash, Detective." She says in his direction. I look at him, the anger rising up to his face, and his eyes blinking. As he seems to do when he's thinking hard about something, or angry in this case. I instinctively put a hand on his bicep, trying to bring him back down to himself. I feel the outline of his muscles in my palm, feeling the sweat starting to rise in my hands. I give his arm a small squeeze, out of my own selfish curiosity.

"Please, Loki. She's just taunting you. It's just pettiness. Let it go, okay? Let's go. We've got those girls to look for." I say softly, with sorrowful eyes. I placed a gentle hand on the space between his muscular shoulders. He seemed to relax into my touch a bit, so I gave him a gentle rub and let go. I felt extremely bad, feeling as if it were my fault that I had put him in that position. He looks at me, and then speaks.

"You're right. Let's go." He took a deep breath, letting out a shaky breath. I could tell he was still angry, just trying to hide it as best as he could. Male rage was my specialty, and being with Mark taught me to learn the ins and outs of body language when it came to them about to lose control of themselves.

We walked to the car in silence. It wasn't so much awkward, but it was a tension-filled moment that put us in a weird silence. As we loaded the trunk with the grocery bags, I looked up to Detective Loki. "Are you alright? I know that was...something." I say, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, I..I'm alright. Stuff like that just doesn't make this job easy when there's so much pressure. You know?" He says with a gentler tone, distancing his stare. "I'm trying my hardest here. I'm human too." His words made me want to wrap him in a warm blanket, and rip him away from all of his worries.

"Yeah. I get it. It's so hard on you already, I don't understand the lack of empathy some people have." I say, nodding my head in understanding. He looks at me and smiles, nodding his head also.

"You get it. That's refreshing to know."

We both get inside of the car, rubbing our hands together and scrambling to turn the car's heat on.

"Thank you, Loki. You didn't have to do this, you know."

"David. You can call me David." He says, pressing the Heat button on the dashboard. "And it's no worries. I'll be damned if I let you walk home alone in the cold and dark with that many bags. How would you defend yourself with your hands full?" He says quietly, looking directly at me. He looked my face up and down, his eyes landing on my lips. When he lowered his tone, I felt a tingle between my legs. His voice was so gentle, so charming. I wanted him to whisper sweet nothings in my ear.

Still looking at me, he chuckles and puts the car into drive.

"Don't know, David. Guess I'll need a knight in shining armor to defend me, huh." I say sarcastically.

"I wonder who that is" He says invitingly.

We both let out shy laughter and with that, we were off to my place.

#david loki #detective david loki #fanfic #jake gyllenhaal #prisoners #detective x reader #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #jacob benjamin gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal x reader #david loki x reader #detective loki x reader

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