#her tattoos get covered with the bark she has as a god | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

just-another-blog-of-fluff · 3 years ago

Text

Vulnerability

Word count: 10,100

Pairing: Loki x f!reader (pre-dating/romantic)

Warnings: violence, injury, strained past relationship with father/past verbal abuse, mourning of past loss of a parent, later gets kind of steamy (but SFW)

This was a really interesting and fun piece to write! 💚💚 I sort of love the relationship between Loki and the reader in this one 😍

Based on a few prompts: one prompt where reader has tattoos that she keeps hidden for sentimental reasons (with an added mini prompt suggestion), and another Prompt where reader doesn’t like her laugh because it’s too cute for someone who is a tough Avenger, and Loki seeks to prove it doesn’t matter.

PLEASE check out the warnings first - there's some sort of heavy content in this fic compared to most of my usual work. As always, completely SFW though!

"Steve - watch your six!"

"Got it!"

Clang.

The offending SPECTER soldier met the unforgiving edge of the iconic vibranium shield, his blaster sent catapulting from his hands as the force of the blow propelled him to the ground. Steve's blue eyes met yours for only a moment, the captain offering you a nod of thanks before you both dove back into the chaos.

A soldier rushed at you from your right. A swift planting of your non-dominant foot into the ground allowed you to aim a roundhouse kick at him before he could get his hands on you. The blow to the gut sent him reeling despite the armor covering his torso, a shout of surprised frustration barking out from beneath his black mask.

They always underestimated you. It was both a blessing and a curse.

Behind you, four more SPECTER soldiers fell victim to the broadside of Mjolnir, a lethal swinging blur in the hand of the God of Thunder. By his side, Loki effortlessly took down another three, the sharp edges of his blades finding the nearly imperceptible points of vulnerability within the soldiers' armor.

"Hey Rambo - there's an opening up ahead. We gotta get in there," Tony's voice ordered in your ear. Your eyes flitted up to the door to the research facility, catching the end result of Nat tackling a soldier to the ground as she wrestled his blaster from his hand. There was indeed a clear path, free from the hordes of soldiers still locked in combat with the other Avengers.

"Roger that." You took off sprinting toward the door, boots slamming rhythmically against the ground as you raced to catch up with the blur of red and gold metal that whizzed past your head. A blue flash of light blasted straight across your path, halting you in your tracks as a soldier opened fire at you from your left. Sunlight glinted against twirling metal just before one of Loki's daggers found its home in the soldier's abdomen, just below the breastplate of his armor. Whipping around, you saw Loki dashing in the same direction you were headed, shooting you a wink as he passed.

"You're welcome!" he called back to you. You raced after him with your renewed goal of storming the facility, scoffing as you caught up to him.

"I could've taken him!" you shot back with a grin.

"Oh, I'm certain of that."

That handsome smirk of his crossed his face, the one that always gave off the sense that he was withholding some snide or flirty comment, and you swiftly returned your attention to the door ahead of you. You couldn't be getting distracted by that in the heat of battle.

The door had already been blown open by a blast - courtesy of Tony Stark - and you and Loki ducked inside, with Bucky hot on your heels to assist. The foyer was teeming with more SPECTER soldiers dressed in black armor and black masks, already engaged in battle with Tony as he zoomed around dodging their fire and blasting right back with his outstretched palms.

Clouds of smoke billowed up around the room from the relentless blaster fire as you three late arrivals jumped into battle. Bucky's vibranium arm took hits without a scratch, and he used it as a personal shield as he charged at a cluster of three soldiers. You dove to the floor as blaster fire sailed over your head, somersaulting elegantly to a crouched position and sweeping the legs out from under the nearest soldier. Pushing yourself up onto your feet, you hooked an arm around the neighboring soldier's neck and wrenched him to the ground.

A second's lull in the attacks aimed toward you (the least threatening of the four of you present in the building by their standards) gave you the chance to glance around in search of the central communications hub. Straight ahead, a long hallway led straight to a set of double doors, behind which you could only hope was the room you were searching for.

"Checking the hallway, twelve o'clock," you muttered into your comms device as you took off in a sprint toward your destination.

"Roger that, Rambo," Tony's voice responded promptly, the echoes of the blasts bursting around the room resounding in the background. "Meet me there in sixty seconds."

You ducked low as you ran, making yourself as small as possible to evade fire. A soldier stepped out in front of you, blaster aimed straight at your face. You dodged right at the last second, the heat of the blast grazing your ear as you grabbed hold of his wrist and slammed your other forearm down against his, disarming him. You heard a shout and a thud behind you, pivoting just in time to see Loki driving his boot into another enemy's chest. You used the apparent distraction to yank on the wrist of the soldier who'd nearly blasted your head off, throwing him face-first to the floor. Loki ran by your side, completing the last leg of the sprint to the end of the hallway just as Tony unceremoniously blew the doors open.

Inside was, thankfully, a vast control panel of computers and radars that clearly indicated this was the communications hub you'd been searching for. You approached the central computer as Tony landed beside you, removing his Iron Man armor and setting it to sentry mode.

"Loki - be a dear and watch the door, will you?" you asked with mock sweetness. He rolled his eyes, grinning all the same at your cheek.

"Take your time, agent."

You got to work immediately, fingers flying furiously across the holographic keyboard as you worked your hacking magic on the enemy's electronics. A good fight was always a thrill, but this was the sort of work you really lived for. It was so satisfying, breaking past the flimsy firewalls and supposedly secure passcodes to enter into a sea of data, all available at your fingertips. Except you weren't seeking to take data this time. You were seeking to erase it.

Tony hovered over your shoulder, pointing irritatingly at the screen in front of you as though you didn't already know what you were looking for. "There - that's the SHIELD files."

"Seriously? For a group that prides themselves on being 'unseen and unheard,' seems like a rookie mistake saving your stolen files in your main hard drive..." you muttered tauntingly, making quick work of deleting the file from existence.

"Alright, good to go?" Tony urged.

"Stark - you know as well as I that we need to do a sweep to ensure there's no traces of data anywhere else in the system," you chastised, making a few additional clicks to scan the intranet.

"Remind me why I didn't decide to call you 'cyberpunk?'" Tony quipped. You glanced at him with a slight turn of your head, a half-smirk crossing your face.

"Because you know I'm a force to be reckoned with."

"Fair point. That, and you're crazy."

"Also a fair point."

"STOP!"

A hollering voice sounded, not from the door, but from the corner of the room. Your eyes flitted upward just in time to see a soldier aim his blaster straight at you. Above him, an open vent told you exactly how he’d slipped past your defenses. Unable to dodge quickly enough, you at least managed to turn your body sideways and minimize the impact as the fiery bullet skimmed across your lower ribs on its trajectory past you. Had you not twisted when you did, it most definitely would have burned a hole through your chest. Instead, it singed a hole in your shirt, sending a blinding, searing pain deep into your skin as it burned from the heat of the blast.

With a hiss of pain, your hands shot to the wound as you doubled over. Loki was on the soldier almost instantly, sending him crashing to the ground. Tony took over at the keyboard to complete the last of the sweep as Loki rushed to your side.

"You're injured."

"Yeah, no shit," you grunted through gritted teeth. Turning to Tony, you barked, "Finish scanning the system yet?"

"Just... about... done!" he responded triumphantly.

"Find anything?"

His face dropped into a scowl. "None of your business."

You snickered. "What would you do without me?"

"Yeah, yeah..." Tony activated the Iron Man suit, the metal pieces slamming in formation onto his body like a magnet. "Let's get you outta here, Rambo."

You waved him off dismissively, swallowing the gasp of pain that leapt up in your throat as you stood up straighter. "I'm fine. Let's go."

The jolting motion of each step sent a fresh wave of sharp pain through your wound, but you'd learned not to let it reflect on your face.

To show pain is to show weakness.

Your father always told you that growing up. No matter how many hits you took, he'd never let you so much as wince without reprimanding you. It was just one of the many harsh aspects of his training that you'd carried with you over the years. You supposed he had gotten you where you were, so he couldn't be blamed for his militaristic training methods.

The battle raged on in the foyer with what remained of the SPECTER soldiers guarding the interior. Loki notably stepped out ahead of you the moment you crossed through the doorway into the foyer, but you shoved your way past him to engage with a nearby soldier. You weren't going to let him shield you like that - not while you were still standing.

If you can stand, you can fight.

Your father's words once again echoed in your head. And fight, you would. Shoving the pain out of the forefront of your mind, you swung your fist in a right hook at the soldier's head, making him stumble from the impact. A hand closed around your forearm, and you nearly slapped it away before you realized it was Bucky's.

"Don't be stupid. You're injured," he scolded, gesturing to the hole seared into your shirt where your skin had been burned. You scowled, ripping your arm from his grasp.

"So I've been told. I'll be fine."

To appease your teammates, you at least began heading for the door, fighting only when necessary if a soldier hindered your progress. Tony had already jetted out, likely working to flag down the helicarrier so you could make your escape. The adrenaline of battle ebbed away at the pain, allowing you to focus on getting the hell out of there now that your mission had been completed. It seemed these SPECTER soldiers were in infinite supply - you may have been fierce, but you weren't foolish enough to think the band of heroes would be able to take down every last one of them.

Loki and Bucky were hot on your heels as you burst through the entryway to the building. Steve, Nat, and Thor were looking battle worn, Steve with a laceration to his forehead and Nat with a small burn on her shoulder where a blast likely grazed her skin. They both eyed your wound with concern, making you roll your eyes at the two of them.

"I'm fine!" you shouted as you slammed your heel into an oncoming soldier. "Let's go - the data's erased."

The deafening hum of the helicarrier approached your position as the aircraft appeared in the sky in front of you. The team bolted in unison toward it, ducking under blaster fire as the SPECTER soldiers followed in hot pursuit. The helicarrier hovered low enough to the ground to let out the boarding ramp, allowing the seven of you to hop on before rising into the sky once more. The sound of blaster fire faded into the distance as the aircraft carried you out of firing range.

Bruce appeared at the top of the boarding ramp, looking somewhat anxious with his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose and his graying brown curls mussed from dragging his own fingers through them repeatedly. Tony was the first to greet him, confirming that the mission had been successful.

"Now, take this one. She's injured," he ordered, pointing at you.

"Hey!" You scowled indignantly. "I'm just fine!"

"Your skin is torched," Steve argued, taking Tony's side. "Go. Get patched up."

"Ugh. Fine." You dragged your feet as you began to follow Bruce to the lab onboard the aircraft. Glancing back, you shouted, "Steve, you and Nat better come with. I'm not the only one who's injured."

Rolling their eyes, the pair of them followed along, knowing you would refuse help if they did.

Entering the lab, you were met with three of the team's medics who were prepared to treat your wounds. They took one look at you, deciding immediately that you would require the most intensive treatment of the three wounded and leading you to the skin regeneration table on board the ship. You reluctantly sat down on the edge of the table, glaring up skeptically at the medic who had taken on your treatment.

"I'll need you to remove your shirt," she instructed, busying herself at the control panel to the machine. Your heart jumped up into your throat at the suggestion.

"I'd rather not."

She glanced up from the computer, peering sternly at you over her spectacles. "How exactly do you propose we treat your burn, then?"

"Uh... you don't." You folded your arms defiantly across your chest. "It's just a surface wound. I'm fine."

The medic paced impatiently over to your side, kneeling down and inspecting the burn on your ribs. She clicked her tongue, shaking her head at your stubbornness. "This will quickly get infected if we do not treat it. Not to mention, it must be very painful."

"I can handle pain," you muttered bitterly under your breath. She gave you a hard look, and you threw your hands up in defeat. "Fine. Go finish programming your little machine, there."

It wasn't that you were trying to be difficult. Your mother had been a medic, so you had quite a bit of respect for their job. It was how she met your father, in fact. She’d been a SHIELD medic until her untimely death when you were only ten years old. Your father never forgave himself for not being there when the enemy stormed aboard the helicarrier that fateful day. He seemed to sort of snap after that, throwing all his efforts into his work, into training you to follow in his footsteps.

You reminded him of her, he always used to say. You wondered if that was the reason he treated you the way he did - pained by the constant memory of what he’d lost.

The real reason you were protesting so much was what was hidden underneath your shirt. Over the years, you’d accumulated a fair number of tattoos, each one easily hidden beneath your clothes and gear. It wasn’t that you were embarrassed by them - you were quite proud of them, actually - but many of them had a deep underlying meaning that you really weren’t interested in trying to explain to your teammates. It was difficult to talk about some of them. So you chose to keep them hidden, keep them close to you as a personal sentiment rather than wearing them openly as a badge of honor.

The walls of the lab were made completely of glass, which meant anyone outside of the room could easily peek inside and see you. If you made too big of a deal of it, inevitably passerby would recognize you were arguing and become more interested. So, instead, you tried to play it cool, grasping the hem of your shirt and pulling it up and over your head. You had to carefully lift it around the burn to avoid irritating it with the fabric scraping across it. Goosebumps erupted on your skin in response to the cool air of the lab as you laid down on the table in nothing but your sport bra covering your upper body. You tried not to look down at the ink staining your skin to avoid drawing attention to the markings.

The medic started up the machine, and you watched impatiently as it sprang into motion, a strip of blue light kissing the wound as your skin knit itself back together. It didn't hurt, exactly, but it wasn't the most comfortable sensation either. The biggest annoyance, though, was how long it was taking to finish. Your eyes kept flitting over to the glass wall beside you, waiting for the inevitable moment someone passed by and saw you lying there on the table with nothing to cover the colorful markings etched into your skin.

Sure enough, Loki appeared on the other side of the glass twenty minutes later.

You couldn't blame him - he probably wanted to be certain you were alright, and it was taking an awfully long time to get this wound treated. In a way, you were somewhat flattered he'd come looking for you. But when his eyes locked on your bare left side, only partially blocked by your arm, skimming over the dragon tattoo that graced your ribs, you could see the curiosity flash on his face.

For a moment, he appeared to be considering entering the lab to talk to you, to inevitably ask the questions you'd been dreading. Fortunately, the medic caught his eye, shooing him with a wave of her hand as she drew the curtain hanging beside the regeneration table to block his view.

You wished you'd noticed it was there sooner.

It took another ten minutes to heal the wound completely, a raw-looking patch of new skin left in its place. The medic inspected her work with an air of pride before finally releasing you. The moment she did, you tugged your shirt back on over your head. With a hasty ‘thank you,’ you scurried out of the lab to your quarters to replace your singed shirt with a new one.

“Are you alright?”

You shouldn’t have been as surprised to hear Loki’s voice in your doorway as you were. Glancing up as you straightened the hem of your clean shirt at your hips, you were met with a concerned-looking Asgardian, though he was clearly trying to hide it. That was one thing you appreciated most about Loki - he never spoke to you or looked at you as a fragile mortal. He learned early on how fierce you could truly be.

“All healed,” you replied with a smile. “That regeneration tech is really something.”

Loki scoffed. “We’ve no need for that sort of thing in Asgard.”

“Well some of us aren’t literal gods, Loki.”

“Ah, but you fight as though you’re immortal like one.”

There it was - that teasing little smirk of his, his blue-green eyes flashing with the internal knowledge that there was something else going through his head that he wasn’t saying out loud. You tried not to let the heat creep up in your face.

“You were awfully nosy earlier, peeking in on me getting fixed up,” you chastised teasingly. “You know, we have privacy rules in Midgardian medicine.”

“I couldn’t help myself. You’ve never shown that much skin before. Forgive me for being… intrigued.”

Ok, the heat was definitely settling in your cheeks now.

“What was that marking you have on your side?”

Ah. There it was, the inevitable question.

“It’s a tattoo,” you responded casually, breaking eye contact to look down at your hands.

“A tattoo?”

“Yes. Ink etched into skin. A sort of art form here on Midgard.”

You chanced a glance up at him, finding a genuinely curious expression on his face. It made you shift uneasily in your seat atop your bed.

“Might I see it?”

You winced, turning your head. “I’d rather not.”

“I apologize. I didn’t intend for it to sound inappropriate.”

Looking back toward him, you offered a weak smile. “No, it’s not that.” With a chuckle, you added, “When have you known me to be self-conscious?”

Loki grinned. “Never. Though, as I said - you’ve never shown that much skin before.”

You let out a slow breath. “It’s just… well, I don’t like to talk about them. My tattoos.”

“Do you not like them?”

“No, I do. It’s… they’re sort of personal to me.”

He nodded slowly, that smirk returning to his face. “Perhaps someday you’ll feel comfortable showing me?”

“Are you asking for me to get personal with you?”

He shot you a wink as he stepped backward out of the doorway. “I certainly wouldn’t mind.”

Your jaw went slack as he vanished around the corner.

Loki had this way of bantering with you that toed the line between friendly and flirty for quite some time now. You never really thought much of it - just sort of chalked it up to Loki being Loki, the silver-tongued God of Mischief. Though, admittedly, you'd never seen him behave in the same way around any of the others. Still, you never took it too seriously. You couldn't lie and say you would be opposed to becoming something more with him. It just had always seemed so far out of the realm of possibility for a mortal.

But that comment... that was the first time he'd said something that alluded to the possibility that he just might feel the same way.

He began to ask you about your tattoos every so often after that. Probing you to see if you'd cave and let him see, let him in on such a personal attribute of yourself. He never pushed you too hard, of course. The idea of possibly letting him in on those parts of you was simultaneously terrifying and exhilarating. More and more, you found yourself wanting to share them with Loki. To let yourself be vulnerable for once in your life.

That was something your father had never taught you to do. To be vulnerable. Vulnerability was weakness to him, and so you learned to shove down everything you ever felt and pack it away in the back of your mind to avoid letting it reflect on your face, in your movements. You'd seen your teammates be openly unguarded with one another, sharing in their heartaches as they did their victories, and you longed for the ability to do the same. It had been so engrained in you to hide everything since your childhood that you weren't really sure where to start.

Loki wasn't exactly the most open-book sort of person either. Perhaps that was a good thing. You could figure it out together.

It was probably around the sixth or seventh time he’d brought it up that you finally caved.

You’d been in the fitness room back in the tower, now that the team was safely stationed back on solid ground. It was one of those rare instances that the room was otherwise empty, and you were not about to pass up that opportunity.

After only ten minutes of hitting the heavy bag, your knuckles were beginning to sting and sweat was beading on your brow from the intensity of your workout. Around the others, you typically tried to tone it back a bit, but when you were by yourself, your old training regimes came back to you.

Finally feeling satisfied with the divots you’d punched into the leather, you wiped your forehead with the back of your hand and reached down for your water bottle. Just as your fingertips touched the condensation building along the chilled plastic, the bottle suddenly slid a few feet to the left, seemingly of its own accord. But you knew better by now.

“Loki, I’m thirsty,” you griped, glancing over your shoulder at the smug-looking trickster who was now standing behind you. “Can’t you at least save your little tricks for after I get to take a sip?”

"Then it wouldn't irk you nearly as much. Where is the fun in that?"

"Is that the sole reason you came in here? To get on my nerves?" A grin pulled at your lips as you took the swig of water you'd been craving.

"Perhaps I wanted to exercise."

You waved your hand in a sweeping motion around the room. "Have at it, then."

He followed along behind you as you made your way across the gym to the pull-up bar. "But getting on your nerves is much more interesting."

"Of course it is." You plunked your water bottle down beside the mats on the hardwood, rubbing your hands together before stepping under the bar and grabbing hold with both hands. "What else are you planning to annoy me with today?"

"Oh, well that's no fun. I can't irritate you on command."

You pulled yourself effortlessly up, lifting your chin over the bar before lowering yourself down once again. "Then maybe you should go exercise."

He shrugged. "I've lost my interest. A god doesn't need to exercise anyhow."

You sniffed out a laugh, pulling yourself up over the bar again. Obviously he'd come in here with the sole purpose of talking to you. He often hovered as you did your own workouts, chatting with you and making teasing comments about your mortal need to exercise to build your strength. In return, you teased that you would become stronger than he was if he didn't start exercising himself.

You didn't mind having his company. He was the only one you'd allow to hang around you like this while you did your workouts.

"You still haven't shown me these tattoos of yours," Loki stated suddenly as you relaxed your arms to dangle from the bar. You released it in your surprise, feet slamming down onto the padded gym mat beneath you with a thump.

"What made you think of that?"

He pointed to your right hip, where a small phrase was tattooed just above your hipbone on your side, hidden underneath your shirt. "Your shirt rode up a bit just now."

"Did you read it?" you asked hesitantly. Loki shook his head.

"I couldn't see the whole thing." He flashed you his trademark smirk, the one that made you weak in the knees. "I must say, you've got me rather curious."

You grinned. "It's killing you, not knowing what they are, isn't it?"

He clicked his tongue. "You're infuriating, teasing me like that."

"And you're nosy."

"I never said I wasn't."

You sighed, pressing your tongue to the inside of your cheek as you tried to fight back a smile. "Alright. I'll show you. But I need to shower first."

"Fair enough."

You directed him to stop by your room in a half hour, heading up to wash off the sweat from your workout. Once you'd cleaned up, you tied your hair back rather than bothering to dry it all the way, throwing on a pair of sweatpants and a sleeveless top. You only owned a couple of those, preferring to wear shirts with sleeves to better conceal your tattoos. It always struck you how exposed you felt even just baring your shoulders. You threw a zip-up hoodie on over it, despite the fact it wasn't cold, just for the added sense of coverage of your skin.

A knock at your door sounded right at the time you'd told Loki to swing by. You opened the door and allowed him inside your room, shutting the door behind you.

This wasn't the first time he'd been in your room. He'd come by a few times in the past, usually to seek council from you when he was arguing with his brother. Although, once, he'd stopped by to check on you when you'd fallen ill with the flu. That had been a rather unexpected visit, but a pleasant one nonetheless, when he'd delivered you a bowl of hot soup after hearing Wanda say it was something Midgardians did when someone was sick.

Despite all that, it still felt foreign having him in your room today. Perhaps because you weren't sure how best to approach the reasoning behind his visit. He stood in the middle of your room, gazing at you questioningly as though trying to determine whether he should sit down or not. You motioned to the edge of your bed, inviting him to sit down beside you as you perched yourself atop your bedspread.

"Understand that you are privileged to be able to see these," you declared sternly. "I don't go around showing my tattoos to everyone."

"Are you certain you're alright with it?"

The uncertainty in his tone startled you. He had an intense look in his eyes as he gazed at you, as though trying to read your mind. Hesitantly, you nodded.

"Yes. I... trust you. It's just hard to share some of the stories behind them."

With a nervous hand, you unzipped the hoodie and shrugged it off, setting it down on the end of the bed. His eyes were immediately drawn to the words inked just below your collarbone on the right side, covered partially by your tank top sleeve. You pushed it aside and allowed him to read the phrase etched on your skin.

With pain comes strength.

"That one is in memory of my father," you explained before he could ask. "He's the reason I became a SHIELD agent."

"I'm sorry you've lost him."

You cringed at the thought that ran through your mind in response. I'm not.

"He was... difficult," you explained. You could tell Loki knew you were sugar-coating it by the skeptical raise of his brow. "He stopped being a father when my mother died. After that, he became nothing more than my instructor, my fighting coach. He... pushed me to become a SHIELD agent like he was."

"Is that what you wanted?"

"Yes... and no." You turned around to allow Loki to see the tattoo between your shoulder blades, the thin black parallel lines and circles designed to depict a circuit board. "I've always been into computers. If I'd had my choice, I'd have worked in the technology department in SHIELD. Developing new gear, programming new A.I.s, hacking into bad guys' systems from afar..."

"Why didn't you?"

"My father wanted me to be a field agent like he was. He always said the techy agents were the ones who were 'too weak to throw a punch.'"

You felt his finger suddenly tracing along the lines of the tattoo, down along your spine, and you shivered. Loki apologized and retracted his hand.

"It's alright, you can touch it. Just warn me next time, will you?" you griped, turning your head to grin at him and let him know you didn’t mind. He smirked right back, lifting his hand to the markings between your shoulders once again. The pads of his fingers were soft against the smooth skin of your back. It had been years since someone had touched your bare skin. It felt foreign to you, but it felt... nice. His touch was almost reverent as he traced along one of the sharp bending lines that bordered your shoulder blade.

"Show me another one," he requested. You felt an odd sense of loss when his fingers left your back. Turning back towards him, you shifted to point out one of the few colorful tattoos you had inked into the outside of your upper right arm, normally hidden even beneath the short-sleeved T-shirts you wore. It was a small hummingbird, with feathers of blue, green, and pink and wings flared out as though in flight.

"My mother always loved hummingbirds," you murmured, feeling a painful lump forming in your throat.

"What happened to her?" Loki asked quietly.

"Ambush. She was a medic on board the helicarrier that my dad was stationed on. They never saw it coming." You released a shuddering breath. "I was only ten, but I remember it like it was yesterday, the day my father came home and told me she was dead."

Loki placed a gentle hand on your forearm in comfort. You glanced up at him, blinking back the tears blurring your vision as you fought to keep them from spilling over. To show pain is to show weakness. You had to remind yourself again that the reason you chose the phrase along your collarbone was to rewrite those words your father used to tell you in a more positive light. With pain comes strength. You just weren't used to showing it to other people.

"My mother was killed in an ambush as well." Loki’s voice sounded heavy, laden with sadness and possibly even a touch of guilt.

"I'm sorry," you breathed, placing your hand over his where it still rested on your arm. He allowed it for a moment, then cleared his throat and lifted his hand, and you followed suit. With a watery laugh, you told him, "I do have some with happy memories, I swear."

"Go on then. Show me."

You scooted backward a bit on the bed, bending your knee and rolling up your pant leg to show him the small black anchor tattooed on your ankle. "My friend and I got matching ones when we were younger. We used to go sailing every summer. This one's small, but it hurt like hell getting it done."

"Is it often painful?"

"More like... scratchy. But this one hurt."

You let your leg drape back over the bed, shaking it a bit to unfurl your pant leg to cover your ankle once again. Loki's eyes flitted down to your hip where he'd seen your shirt ride up earlier.

"You've yet to show me that one," he urged, gesticulating toward the spot. You let out a breathy laugh through your nose, lifting the hem of your shirt to expose your right side. The words were small, and Loki leaned down a bit to read them.

"You are enough." His eyes lifted to once again meet yours, his face startlingly closer to your own now that he'd shifted closer to see the black ink scrawled across your side. A tilt of his head told you he wanted to know the story behind it. This was quite possibly the hardest story to tell, and you braced yourself for it.

"That one, I got to remind myself that no matter what harsh words my father had for me... I am not worthless."

Loki hummed thoughtfully. "I'm beginning to dislike this man more and more."

You laughed despite yourself. "I doubt you'd have gotten along with him if he were still alive. He was no-nonsense - he didn't like to joke around, always straight down to business. Maybe that's why you and I get along so well."

"Oh?"

"I was a mischievous kid, you know. Dad always hated that. For a while, it only made me try harder to get on his nerves, just to defy him." You grinned at the trickster. "I bet you were a little monster when you were a kid."

Loki let out a rumbling chuckle from deep in his chest, one that made your heart flutter in your chest. "I certainly wasn't an angel - let's leave it at that."

You let go of your shirt to let it drape back over your hip, hiding the black ink from view once again. Loki looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to show him the last one.

"Well?"

"Well, what?" You tried to look confused, biting back a teasing smirk. He saw right through it, folding his arms sternly across his chest with a grin.

"Oh, come now. You can't expect me not to ask about the one on your other side - not after I saw a part of it while you were in the lab the other day."

"You saw the whole thing!"

"Your arm was blocking it. Don't try to get out of this one, darling."

You huffed through your nose, shaking your head in defeat. In truth, this was your favorite out of all of them. It was also the largest and most intricate tattoo you had. You'd debated it for months before having it done, knowing you wanted to be certain you'd love it if you were to get something this extensive inked permanently into your skin. The fact that Loki was so curious about it made you a bit giddy to show it to him, but you simply had to tease him a bit first.

"Oh, alright. I suppose I can show you again."

You turned around to sit with your left side facing Loki, seated cross-legged on the bed. Gradually, you rolled your shirt up to the middle of your ribs, revealing the dragon tattoo you had winding up the span of your side. Various shades of blue and black ink added depth and dimension to the dragon's scales as it twisted from just above your hip to the middle of your ribs.

Loki's eyes roamed curiously over the image inked into your skin. "What's the story behind this one?"

You turned your head just slightly, enough to flash him a sly smirk. "I just like dragons."

A breathy laugh escaped his nose. "I can appreciate that." He lifted his hand hesitantly, catching your eye. "May I?"

You nodded, eyes shifting to watch his hand as he gently touched his fingertips to the bare skin overlaying your ribs, tracing along the snout and head of the dragon. It took every ounce of effort you had not to flinch at his touch. Holy hell, it tickled. It had been some time since anyone had attempted to tickle you, and you'd forgotten how terribly sensitive you were. What you hadn't forgotten was the squeaky, girlish laughter that burst out of you whenever someone managed to find a particularly weak spot. It was far from the tough façade with which you'd learned to carry yourself. So, whenever a friend happened to try to tickle you, you either withheld your reactions long enough for them to grow bored, or you scolded them into thinking you didn't want them to touch you.

But Loki's tender touch was not unwelcome. Quite the opposite, really. If only you weren't so damned ticklish, you could melt right into it. You could not let him know what he was doing to you. You knew the God of Mischief well enough to know that the moment he found out how ticklish you were, he'd go searching for the spots and pressure that might actually make you laugh those embarrassingly cutesy giggles of yours.

His fingertips glided along the dragon's spine, winding back and forth down the length of your ribs. You balled your hand into a fist and curled your toes as you willed yourself not to react. Goosebumps rose along your skin in the wake of his fingertips as they flitted down the softer skin of your side, tracing down along the dragon's tail. You let out a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding the moment his finger paused at the very tip of the tail, just above your hipbone, only to suck it right back into your lungs as he reversed direction and began tracing back up the way he'd come.

"Am I tickling you?"

He had an impish lilt to his tone that made your stomach flip as your eyes darted up to meet his. You opened your mouth to deny it, and he purposely lightened his touch with the intention to make it tickle as he continued ghosting his fingertips along the image on your skin. Your hand shot to your mouth to stifle a giggle on instinct.

"Damn," you muttered, voice muffled in your palm. That godforsaken handsome smirk spread across his face, and you knew you were in trouble. You brought your arm down to cover your side, releasing your shirt in hopes it would slip down to cover your bare skin and offer a bit of protection, but it was bunched around your midsection where you'd rolled it up.

"I wasn't finished admiring your tattoo, you feisty little dragon," he scolded teasingly, his hand closing around your wrist and prying your arm from your side.

"L-Loki! You brat!" You wrenched your wrist from his grasp, only for him to catch it in his other hand as you swatted at him playfully. "N-noho! Don't you dare!"

His free hand found your side, fingers flitting ticklishly over the bare skin wrapping around toward your belly. You clapped your hand back over your mouth as another little giggle threatened to burst out, shaking your head with wide eyes at your flirtatious assailant. Loki withdrew his hand, releasing your wrist with a concerned, hesitant look on his face.

"I apologize - do you not like to be tickled?"

You lowered your hand from your mouth, tugging your shirt down on instinct but softening your expression. "No, it's not that. I just... it's embarrassing."

"You're embarrassed by being tickled?"

"By my laugh."

Loki cocked his head inquisitively. "You laugh all the time." Boastfully, he added, "I am quite funny, after all."

"You keep telling yourself that," you teased, shoving his shoulder playfully. "I don't mind my usual laugh, but... god this is embarrassing... I sort of laugh... differently when someone tickles me."

Loki's eyebrows shot up his forehead, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Now I'm very intrigued."

"Well that's a shame, because I'm not gonna- HEY!" You swatted at his hand as it darted out and pinched your ribs, barely withholding a giggle. "No, none of that! I don't want you to hear it! It's embarrassing!"

"Explain to me how your laugh can possibly be that embarrassing that you won't allow me to tickle you."

"First off, no one allows anyone to tickle them-"

"So you'd prefer I take you down by force and tickle you instead?"

Your face caught fire, and you were somewhat mortified to realize that part of the reason was because you didn't mind that idea in the slightest.

"N-not the point. AS I was saying... my ticklish laugh is... ugh, it's-squeaky-and-cutesy-and-terrible." You were surprised Loki could even understand what you said, the words came tumbling out of your mouth so fast. Based on the sly, flirty grin that crossed his face, you knew he understood every word.

"That sounds charming."

You swatted his hand away once again as he reached for your side. "That's exactly the problem! I'm not meant to be adorable! I'm a SHIELD agent - I can take guys down with my bare hands, I know how to handle nine different types of weapons-"

"And you're adorably ticklish. I don't see the problem here."

"Loki!" You hid your burning face in your hands, only to bring your arms right back down as his fingers skittered across your belly. With a non-threatening growl, you smacked his hand away once again. Truthfully, you were loving this playfulness. This sort of interaction was something you seriously lacked as a kid, your childhood stolen away from you in favor of long hours of relentless training and cruel words. Still, you weren't sure how keen you were on allowing Loki to hear your childish-sounding giggles.

"You don't need to be the tough, hardened SHIELD agent every waking hour of the day," he insisted. "In fact, I rather enjoy this softer side of you."

"Really?"

He nodded, a smirk spreading across his lips. "What's life without a bit of laughter?" he asked, experimentally squeezing your hip and earning another slap on the wrist. "Now then. I'd very much like to hear this 'squeaky and cutesy and terrible' laugh of yours. And as you so astutely stated, no one simply allows someone to tickle them..."

You laughed nervously as he caught hold of your wrist, wrenching your free arm out of his reach before he could get his hand on the other one. He tutted at you, shifting to kneel beside you on the bed so he could gain leverage to increase his efforts to capture you in his hold. His hand reached out for yours again, and you swiftly hid it behind your back.

"You are well aware this is a fruitless endeavor, attempting to evade capture." He smirked devilishly at you. "Eventually you know I'll overpower you."

Despite the fact that you weren't exactly excited about the prospect of Loki hearing your less-than-threatening bubbly giggles, you found that you trusted him completely. You trusted that he cared about you - perhaps cared for you, if you could be so fortunate - and you trusted that he would never say something hurtful to you.

You trusted him enough that when he finally did catch your other wrist and wrestle you down onto your back, you didn't fight as hard as you knew you could as he pinned your wrists beneath his knees.

"Lohoki you AHASS!" you cried, squirming under his gaze.

"You wound me, darling." He let his hands hover threateningly over your sides, knowing already that you were ticklish there at least to a lighter tough. You stiffened in anticipation of his impending attack. "Let's hear that laugh then, hmm?"

His hands latched onto both sides, kneading into the soft, sensitive skin. You sucked in a breath and squeezed your eyes shut, trying to withhold your laughter despite how horribly ticklish the sensation was. Undeterred, he let his hands wander in search of a weak spot, one hand clawing its way into the center of your belly while the other ascended your ribcage.

"Come now, darling... laugh for me," he urged teasingly, swapping his hands to dig one into the spot just below your ribs and slotting the other up under your arm. You clamped your mouth shut tight, letting out a screech of protest from deep in your throat through your nose as you kicked your heels against the mattress. He had you writhing with the gentlest scratching of his fingertips at that spot under your ribcage, and the fingers wriggling into the pliant skin beneath your arm were certainly not helping matters.

However, neither compared to the agonizingly ticklish sensation as his hand descended from your ribs to the side of your belly, about halfway between your navel and your side. Just one scratch at that spot and you were done for.

Those silly ticklish giggles poured from your lips, only increasing in speed and volume when he realized what was causing your sudden outburst of laughter and dropped his other hand to the other side of your belly. You giggled and squeaked, writhing and kicking helplessly as a fond grin spread across his face.

"There it is." Loki scratched faster at the torturous spot, his grin widening as your eyes scrunched shut and you threw your head back with desperate laughter. "I don't know what you're talking about - this is a very normal-sounding laugh."

"SHUHUT UHUP, YOHOU!"

"That's quite rude of you - I'm trying to make you feel better. The least you can do is not shout at me." He wrapped his large hands around your sides, toggling circles into those same spots on your belly with both thumbs while scratching at your sides. A giggly screech ripped through your chest as your back arched, then finally you went limp against the bedspread as your own hysterical laughter overpowered you.

But not once did you tell him to stop. Not once did you want him to stop. Sure, the sensation was overwhelming, ticklish shocks shooting through your nerves with every squeeze of his fingers into your middle. But you trusted Loki. Enough to let yourself be vulnerable with him, just as you had been when you'd explained the stories behind each of your tattoos. His touch was mischievous, but it was kind and playful, and you hadn't laughed like this in a very, very long time. Your abdominal muscles ached and your laughter was becoming breathless, but it felt good. Refreshing.

Loki relented, having succeeded in his mission to make you laugh. Your mind was fuzzy as you sat up, smoothing your hair down as your giggles slowly faded. He flashed you his smirk, and you shot him a hardly-menacing glare.

"I don't believe there is anything 'terrible' about that laugh of yours," he assured with a wink. You swatted his shoulder jokingly.

"Yohou suck," you grumbled. Then, with a glint of mischief in your eyes, you dropped your hand down to his side and swiftly pinched at the soft spot a few times. He merely stared down at your hand, unmoving, then looked up to meet your eye with an impossibly wider smirk. Your jaw dropped indignantly. "No. No way are you not ticklish."

"Not in the same way you are."

"So you are ticklish, then."

"In exactly two places, yes."

With a fierce look of determination, you brought your other hand over to dig into his lower ribs. He sighed as though you were boring him, casually taking hold of your wrists and prying them away from his sides.

"Hey!"

"As you stated earlier - no one simply allows someone to tickle them." He grinned, holding fast to your wrists as you tugged and twisted to try to free them from his grip. He was teasing you now, you knew - not doing anything but preventing you from continuing on your mission to find the two solitary places he was ticklish.

"Oh, come on!" you groaned, shifting to sit on your knees to be able to push harder against his hold. "Now I - mmph - I need to know where!"

Loki chuckled fiendishly. "I'm sorry to tell you, darling, but you're going to have to work for it."

Growling, you threw your weight forward to try to catch him off guard and knock him backward. You nearly succeeded, but he regained his balance at the last moment, suddenly shoving your wrists in retaliation and easily slamming you down onto your back once again with your arms pinned beside you. He loomed over you with a self-assured grin, gradually dragging your arms up above your head as you began protesting and laughing all at once.

"What - did you think I was going to make it easy for you, little spitfire?" He gathered your wrists in one hand, lowering the other to your right hip and slipping it up under the hem of your shirt. "Is this tattoo of yours ticklish as well?"

"How should I know- hehey!! Lohohoki!!" You let out a few giggles as his fingers swept maddeningly gently over the bare skin above your hip where the words were inked into your skin. He clicked his tongue, grinning victoriously.

"Ah, I see it is. Tell me - do the tattoos make your skin more ticklish in those spots? Or have you always been this sensitive?"

"I-hi hahate you." You twisted to evade his fingers, and rather than trying to follow you, he turned his attention to the words under your collarbone, lightly tracing his finger along the looping text. A surprised giggly shriek burst from your lips at the sensation, a stretch of skin you'd never anticipated would be ticklish and yet it was making your nerves tingle.

"This one too? Perhaps it's the ink, then?" He shot his hand down to your belly, scratching at the weak spot he'd discovered earlier and throwing you into hysterics. "Although, that wouldn't explain why this makes you laugh so hard."

Your half-hearted protests were lost beneath the sound of own laughter, amplifying when Loki released your wrists in favor of digging into the other side of your belly. Your hands grasped feebly at his wrists, then wrapped around your midsection, all failed attempts to lessen the ticklish feeling of his fingers clawing at your skin. In a last-ditch effort, you slotted your thumbs up under his arms, digging your eight fingers into the backs of his ribs.

Loki spluttered, removing his hands from your belly to sit up and shift out of reach of your fingers. But you were swift. You practically threw yourself at him, not even considering the implications as you wrapped your arms tight around him and pinned his arms to his sides. Without waiting for him to start fighting back, you latched your fingers onto those spots on the backs of his ribs and launched a ten-fingered attack.

"Pfft yohou lihittle..."

Whatever he was planning to call you, you never found out. The rumbling, deep laughter that burst from the trickster's chest was startling. You'd never heard him laugh before. Sure, he chuckled snarkily all the time, but to hear him really laugh... It was quite possibly your new favorite sound. Still, you couldn't pass up the opportunity to tease him for it.

"Ah-ha!! I found one!" you cried triumphantly, tightening your hold as he began trying to throw you off him. You squeaked as his hands found your sides and squeezed, digging your fingers into his ribs faster to deter his counterattack. You could feel his muscles weakening in your hold from his laughter. You leaned back a bit to look him in the eye, flashing him a smirk reminiscent of the mischievous god himself. "Oh-ho-ho, you're so screwed."

His eyes locked on yours for a moment, those blue-green irises practically glowing.

What happened next, you couldn't possibly have anticipated.

Loki suddenly allowed himself to fall backward, bringing you down on top of him with a surprised yelp. The shock of it made you loosen your grip, scrambling to plant your knees on either side of his hips to regain some semblance of leverage, preparing yourself for his ticklish retaliation. His hands found your hips, and you opened your mouth to begin playfully scolding him.

Anything you would have said to him was muffled against his mouth as he captured your lips with his.

For a brief moment, you stiffened, more than a bit shocked by this sudden advance. As your mind processed what was happening, you relaxed into his arms, melting as you sighed blissfully against his lips. Loki's hand slipped under the hem of your shirt, making you gasp and tense in anticipation of more tickling, but he kept his touch firm as he slid his palm along the side where the dragon tattoo adorned your skin. Your lips curled up into a grin against his, parting from him just slightly to look at him through hazy eyes.

"Is that one your favorite too?" you mumbled. That smirk that always made you weak in the knees graced his lips as he nodded, running his palm back down along your side.

"I'd like to see it again."

"Mm... later." You silenced him once again with another kiss, savoring in the taste of his lips. His hand came to rest on your hip once again, the other rising to cradle your neck as he lifted his head slightly to deepen the kiss.

There was no way of knowing how much time passed while your lips were locked with Loki's. And in all honesty, you didn't really care. Not once in the entirety of your life had anyone made you feel this good. If this was your reward for being open and vulnerable with him... well, perhaps you'd need to do it more often.

You let him kiss you until you became breathless, finally forcing yourself to part from his lips to get some air. He let his hand at your neck slide down to your shoulders as he lifted his lips to kiss along your jawline.

"You... you just kissed me to make me stop tickling you, didn't you?" you teased. He grinned, pressing one last kiss to your neck.

"It worked, did it not?" You scoffed and rolled your eyes with a laugh. "In any case, no. I kissed you because I wanted to. That was just an added bonus."

You leaned down to press gentle kisses along his jawline to return the favor, grinning as you heard his breath hitch in his chest. "You know..." you mumbled between kisses, "... you're not getting out of telling me where your other tickle spot is just by kissing me."

Loki hummed thoughtfully, lifting his head to recapture your lips with his once again. You considered scolding him for attempting to evade the question once again, but you allowed it, pressing your lips harder against his and kissing him fervently. His hands slid firmly down your sides and along your hips, coming to rest at the back of your thighs just above your knees. He let his head fall back against the mattress to break apart from your lips once again, and you barely registered the mischievous glint in his eyes in your euphoric daze.

"Why don't I just show you instead?"

Caught off guard after being lulled into a kiss-drunken trance, you didn't have time to react as you felt his fingers hook around the undersides of your knees, shifting up just a couple inches and scratching at the apparently hypersensitive patches of skin just above your knees on your inner thighs. An embarrassingly high-pitched shriek burst from your lips at the sudden sensation, collapsing against Loki and burying your face in his shoulder to muffle your desperate giggles.

"MM-HMM LOKIHI!" you squealed, trying to roll off of him. Loki held fast, his fiery fingers fluttering and sweeping along the cotton fabric of your pants covering those wretched spots above your knees. You kicked your feet against the mattress in protest, earning a laugh from the mischievous god as he finally showed you mercy. His hands left your knees so his arms could wrap tightly around your waist, squeezing you to his chest.

"It seems we have that spot in common, don't we, darling?" he murmured in your ear teasingly. You growled playfully, lifting your head to glare at him.

"I'm beginning to think that kissing me was all a ruse to be able to torment me," you scolded jestingly. He responded by rolling swiftly, pinning you on your back and gazing down with nothing but adoration in his eyes.

"There are many more reasons than that for me to want to kiss you." To emphasize, he ducked his head to kiss you once more, stealing your breath away. You laughed against his lips, drinking in his kiss for a moment before swiftly latching your hands around the backs of his knees and targeting those same spots he'd just demonstrated on you moments ago. He barked out a surprised laugh at your ticklish touch, toppling sideways onto the bed to escape your fingers. You managed to continue a moment longer before he captured your hands in his, raising them to his lips and pressing a kiss to each of your palms.

"Mm... you're no fun," you whined, eliciting an amused laugh from the trickster.

"I beg your pardon - as I recall, I just made you laugh for the last twenty minutes," he retorted with mock indignance.

"That might be an exaggeration. But, I'll let you have it."

Loki propped himself up on his elbow, reaching over and gently grasping the hem of your shirt in his hand with a pleading look in his eyes. "Might I see it again, now? I promise I won't tickle you."

Your cheeks warmed as you nodded, allowing him to slide your shirt up to reveal the dragon tattoo once again. He smoothed his palm over it with enough weight in his touch not to tickle, just as he'd promised.

"This one suits you," he declared after gazing at it a moment longer.

"Oh? And why is that?"

"It's elegant and beautiful, and yet simultaneously fiery and fierce. Much like you."

You turned his words over in your mind, a grin tugging at your lips. "You know... I never thought of it that way. I like that."

It was true - you'd honestly gotten that tattoo because you liked it. The one tattoo that had no story behind it, and yet Loki found a way to make it the most meaningful of all of them. You strove to be fiery and fierce, but you'd never thought yourself to be elegant and beautiful until Loki suggested you were. It was perfect - the perfect blend of your past and the future you were striving for.

Loki smirked as he watched you react to his words, that smirk you were beginning to love more and more each time he showed it to you. He wrapped an arm around your waist and tugged you close, eyeing your lips hungrily as your face burned under the weight of his gaze.

"Now - kiss me again, little dragon."

How could you possibly say no?

#loki x reader #loki fluff #loki tickle #ticklish!reader #tickle fluff #tickle fic #marvel tickle #loki x you #tattooed!reader #loki laufeyson #loki layfeyson x reader #loki x female reader

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erodasfishtacos · 3 years ago

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This was an ask but I lost it - it was a prompt for the tropes to get a text about a guy hitting on them in a grocery store

Okay but work with me here

There is actually a guy hitting on them.

Have a Good Friday bubbies 💕

With three growing boys came a lot of groceries, on top of Harry who was a garbage disposal himself and ate like crazy - came the need for two groceries carts.

Harry had wandered off to pick up a forgotten item with Ezra in the little seat, Easton and Cash in the cart among the food item.

It was just YN waiting in a ridiculously long line to check out when a cart pulls behind her, and she hears someone cough to get her attention.

She turns to look and it’s a younger man with a white smile and a raised brow, “I just wanted to let you know you’re very beautiful.”

YN has to stop from making a face, instead pulls up her phone and sends out a quick text before sliding it back in her purse.

yn: better hurry up, some guy is hitting on me

She would normally ignore the comment but she’s just waiting for her husband to come and have a fit so she entertains the conversation.

“Thanks, that’s very sweet of you,” YN gives him a small smile and his eyes dart to her chest before reading it - it was a pretty plain tee with a Yankees logo on it.

“Fan of the Yankees? You’re too pretty to like baseball too,” The man laughs like the joke he said was just comical.

“Who’s you’re favorite player?” YN asks with a curious grin.

“Oh, Styles for sure. Have you heard of him, honey?” The man asks patronizingly like she’s a dumb, band-wagon fan.

“Uh, Styles?” She replies dumbly with wide eyes, “Is he the catcher?”

“Can I help y’mate?” Harry interrupts rudely, maneuvering his cart full of children in front of the man talking to his wife.

The guy legitimately gasps, “Y-you-you’re Har-Harry Styles.”

“Oh my god, that is Harry Styles!” YN remarks with faux surprise to irk her husband but it gets ruined when Ezra screeches, “Mama!”

Harry rolls her eyes at her but she doesn’t miss the little curve to his lip.

“I am. What can I help you with?” He asks gruffly, his hand going to cup the back of his wife’s neck protectively.

“I was ju-uh? I was talking er to this girl because of her s-shirt,” He rambles, the man’s hands were shaking with excitement and nerves.

“This girl is m’wife and I’d appreciate if you left her alone now,” Harry glares, “I think she’s off the market based on the fact that she gave me these three babies in tha’ cart.”

YN giggles when Harry gives her skin a slight squeeze, he was so hot when he was protective of her and their babies.

“Ca-can I have a signature?”

Easton furrows his brow, tossing the box of cereal to the side in the cart, and huffs out, “Leave us alone!”

Harry laughs, moving to shush him and shrug, “Y’heard him, leave us alone.”

And if that man goes around telling everyone Harry Styles is an asshole after that…well Harry couldn’t give a flying fuck.

YN didn’t need Harry to tell a man to fuck off, obviously not, but it doesn’t mean that it wasn’t an opportunity to rile him up.

It’s in the pasta aisle, Harry had went to find the Cheerios that Beau had suddenly demanded with puppy dog eyes.

As she reaches for a box on the top shelf, someone steps behind her and grabs it for her - encroaching on her personal space.

“Here you go, doll,” A clean-shaven, business-looking man smiles as he hands her the box and steps back from her.

Beau and Olive were sitting in the cart, playing with the few toys YN had brought along to keep them entertained.

“Thanks,” YN scoffs but then realizes this is a perfect opportunity to fuck with her husband so she sweetens her tone and smiles, “You’re so tall.”

As he begins rambling, YN pulls out her cell phone and sends a quick text to her husbands.

yn: some guys in aisle six is trying to make me his house wife

She sees the message is read but he doesn’t reply.

It’s less than a minute before he’s striding back down the aisle - looking hotter than fucking ever if you asked his wife.

He was in his normal black skinny jeans and plain black tee, his curls pulled into a bun, black leather boots, and his body covered completely with tattoos.

“Can I fuckin’ help you?” Harry barks, right off the bat, lightly pushing his wife behind him in his normal protector mode.

“I was just offer some help to this beautiful lady,” The man smiles obnoxiously, puffing out his chest to appear bigger.

“My wife doesn’t need y’help,” He replies with a scoff, he was taller than the men and much more muscular - there was no chance.

The man falters for a moment before shrugging, “I just wouldn’t expect such an stunning girl to be with fuckin’ tattooed up scum like you. She’ll leave you.”

Harry has to use all of his self-control to not knock this man out, “Look at those fuckin’ babies, look exactly like me, don’t they? Because I put them in her. Pretty sure she isn’t gonna leave me.”

“Low life,” The man scoffs.

But then, Harry is narrowing his eyes, “Wait a minute, I know you. You’re Henry Clark.”

It’s obvious Henry is confused to how this man knows his name by his raised eyebrows.

“How do you know me?” He challenges.

“Because you owe me money,” Harry replies with a crooked grin.

“I don’t even know you!” Henry laughs with a honking, annoying sound.

“Oh, y’know me,” Harry is still smiling, he pulls up his tee slightly where he has a tattoo on his abdomen that matches the slogan on his gun.

Smile! You’ve met the devil!

Henry’s wide grin falls and his face pales without a seconds notice.

“Daddy, please!” Olive whines angrily after Beau smacks a box of crackers out of her hand with a baby giggle at his sister’s irritation.

“Excuse me a minute, don’t move,” Harry replies with a shit-eating smile, he lifts his shirt a bit more to flash his gun before turning to his kids.

YN had been distracted at looking over their grocery list, unconcerned about what was going on.

“Whassit, button?” Harry murmurs, thumbing away the tears on her ruddy cheeks.

“S’being mean,” Olive squeaks with sad, puppy eyes and a poured bottom lip - making grabby hands for her father, “Pick m’up, daddy.”

“S’kay, Beau - y’need to be nice t’your sister,” He tells his son seriously before turning back to the quivering man, “There better be £50,000 at the Third Street Shipping Ware house by midnight or I’m coming to find you.”

“Stop talkin’ daddy,” Olive complains, wanting his attention on her and not this random man. Her small hand comes to pat at his cheek, finger curiously touching the tattoo there.

“F-fine,” Henry agrees with a stutter, a sheen of sweat forming on his brow.

Harry snags a bag of cookies of the shelf to distract his daughter as he finishes their conversation, “If y’not there, I’ll gladly painted m’walls with y’blood.”

“I-I wi-will,” The man agrees, wiping his brow.

“Also, if y’tell anyone about m’babies - I’ll not only kill you but every single person you’ve ever loved if you even think about mentioning m’children,” Harry touches his gun with his free hand, “I have bullets w’your name on it.”

“Daddy, no more. Cuddle now?” Olive interrupts, unbothered or concerned by her father’s tight jaw and dangerous eyes.

“Get lost,” He demands before turning away from the man and kissing his daughter’s temple, “Y’want a cuddle, hm?”

“Please,” She whimpers, giggling when she feels her father’s slight scratchy stubble on her cheek before he’s hugging her close to his chest - protective and safe.

#all tropes #harry styles writing #harry styles #harry styles masterlist #mlbrry #mlb!harry #gangrry #gang!harry #file #harry styles fic rec #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles x y/n

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doyumacy · 4 years ago

Text

ʀɪᴅᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ - 1

ʏᴜᴛᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ᴍᴀʀᴋ ʟᴇᴇ

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ɢᴏɴᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ʏᴇᴀʀ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴠᴇʀʏ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇᴅ. ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴀʟꜰ ʙᴏᴛʜᴇʀ’ꜱ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴀ ʟᴇɢᴇɴᴅ ɪɴ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀɢʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʀᴀᴄᴇꜱ. ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴀᴍᴇ ɢɪʀʟꜱ ʜᴀᴛᴇ ʏᴏᴜ. ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴀᴍᴇ ʙᴏʏ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴍᴀᴋᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ʀᴀᴄᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴏɴ’ᴛ ʟᴇᴛ ʜɪᴍ ɢᴇᴛ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛᴏ ʜᴜʀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ. ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ. ɴᴏᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ.

ᴍᴀʀᴋ ʟᴇᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀʀʀɪᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴏᴡɴ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ’ꜱ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱᴛᴀʏɪɴɢ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴛ ᴜᴘ ᴀ ꜰᴇᴡ ꜱᴛʀᴇᴇᴛ ʀᴀᴄᴇꜱ, ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴍᴏɴᴇʏ, ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ꜰᴜɴ. ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴇ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ꜱᴛɪʀ ᴜᴘ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʙᴇɢɪɴꜱ ʜᴀɴɢɪɴɢ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪꜱ ꜱᴘᴏɴꜱᴏʀ’ᴀ ʜᴀʟꜰ ꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ’ꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʜᴇʀ ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ʜᴇ’ꜱ ᴘɪꜱꜱɪɴɢ ᴏꜰꜰ.

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴅʀᴀᴍᴀ, ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅʀᴜɢꜱ, ɢᴜɴꜱ, ɢᴜɴꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ, ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴊᴏᴋᴇꜱ, ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴛꜱ,

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5,3ᴋ

three years ago

you slide out from under the car you've been working on when you hear an unfamiliar engine approaching the garage. it must be a customer, you think as you go to the front desk to help them.

the man who enters the office surprises you. he has light brown hair and is wearing black jeans with a white shirt with black flowers. his dark brown eyes sparkle with curiosity as he sees you. a black maserati is parked behind him.

"can i help you?" you ask, freely.

"i have a faulty spark plug and my garage is on the other side of the planet. they told me this was the best place in town."

"and it is. go ahead and go into the store."

"don't mechanics normally keep people waiting in the office?" he asked amused.

"only when the person doesn't know anything about cars. obviously you do, so you have to keep me company while i fix it," you smirk.

"what's your name, suh? -he asks, using the last name on your work shirt.

"y/n. yours?"

"yuta. nakamoto yuta."

"nice to meet you. let's get that car fixed, shall we?"

a few minutes later, the black car is with the hood open in the garage. yuta, on the other hand, is helping you by handing you the necessary tools. you let his fingers brush a little more than strictly necessary when yuta hands you a wrench.

yuta smiles and leans back against the car once you're done. "how much do i owe you?" he asks quietly.

it takes you a second to really register how close you are to each other. you look him in the eye. "how about you take me out to dinner and the debt is settled?" you ask in a sudden flare of audacity.

fortunately, he smiles.

"my thoughts exactly. what time will you be out here?

“six.”

he looks down at that ridiculously nice black gold watch.

"it's only an hour from now. how about i keep you company until then?"

"i'd like that."

"so what were you working on before I showed up?"

"my charger over there. there are some bastards who want to compete with me saying their luxury imports can beat it. tonight they're in for an ugly surprise."

you assume yuta has heard about your garage, knows about your regular clientele. they consider themselves the best store around to the fellow street racers. but to everyone else, it's just a small garage.

"that sounds like something i'd like to see. mind if i stay and watch you kick their asses?"

"it'd be my pleasure," you smile.

as expected, you end up following yuta back to his apartment after winning the race by a solid car length. the endorphins from winning the race flood your senses, and yuta is amazed that he had managed to stumble upon such an amazing girl. someone like him.

sl walking, you find yourself wrapped in warm arms and leaning against a hard chest. you caress the dragon-shaped tattoo on his right shoulder and plant a kiss on it.

a quiet moan tells you she is waking up. his arm tightens around her. he plants a kiss on your forehead.

"Good morning to you too," you say.

yuta rolls you onto his back and rests his torso on top of yours. "good morning."

"You look happy.

"i woke up with a beautiful, bad-ass, street-racing woman in my arms. how could i complain?"

you laugh. "well, i could say the same thing. it's not often i get to wake up next to a hot guy and that brother would probably beat up if he knew where i spent the night."

he barks out a laugh. "you're most likely right..." he bites his lip. "there's something you need to know."

your smile disappears. "you're not married, are you?"

"no! god, no," he replies instantly. "i just want to know if you want it to be more than a brief fling."

you are silent for a moment as he thought.

"yes, i think so. i mean, we could get to know each other better but yes," you explain.

"then we're on the same page," you nod absently. "do you want to have breakfast before we go on with our talk?"

you can't help but get a little nervous. what does he have to say?

"what do you want for breakfast?"

"uh..." you sit up, holding the black sheet against your chest to cover yourself. "whatever. i'm not particularly picky."

yuta nods and gets out of bed, pulling on a pair of gray sweatpants. he leaves his room and you lie back down on the bed. your cell phone rings somewhere in yuta's room and you grunt getting up to look for it. you find it inside your jeans.

"y/n! where the hell are you?" johnny asks as soon as you answer the phone. “you didn’t come home last night, and jaehyun said there was a guy watching you the entire race.”

“don’t worry about it, brother. that guy was my date last night. i’m at this place right now,” you grin.

“hold on, you had a date?! who? why didn’t you tell me?” johnny bombards you with questions.

you sigh. you saw this coming.

“everything all right?” yuta asks, entering his bedroom.

“my brother,” you say with your mouth. “johnny! easy with the questions. i’ll tell you later, bye!”

“be responsible!” it can be heard from the phone and you hang up.

you exhale dramatically and fall back on the bed.

“trouble, dear?” yuta inquiries.

you raise your head to look at him. “big brothers are tedious,” you announce after a minute.

“i wouldn’t know; i’m the older brother.”

“oh?”

yuta smiles warmly. “i have a younger brother. the idiot used to fight older bullies in the yard, and i was the one who had to finish them off.”

you smirk. “you protected him. my brother’s the same way.”

“let’s eat, okay? i still need to talk about something important,” yuta declares.

you nod and he tosses you slightly one of his shirts. you put it on and grab your panties putting them on.

yuta made sunny side up eggs and french toasts. between bites, yuta begins to speak. “i work for the korean mafia.”

“huh?” you stop eating and stare at him. “you what?”

yuta laughs lightly. “i work for the korean mafia.” he repeats. “i bet you’re wondering what a japanese guy is doing working for the korean mafia.”

“not exactly my first thought but yes,” you shrug. “what do you do?”

“let’s say i’m a middleman between the korean mafia and the yakuza,” he confesses.

you frown. “so you buy goods from them and sell them?”

yuta raises an eyebrow at you. “what are you? a businesswoman?”

you laugh and have a bite of your toast. “i went to business school, but i dropped out this semester.”

“hot,” he plants a kiss on your lips. “so yes, that’s my job. aren’t you scared?”

“of what? you? your job?” you snort. “i’ve seen way worse in the underground. i gotta say i’m surprised because i thought you were a good boy.”

yuta chuckles. “i am good at other things,” he winks at you.

you push the plate aside and sit on his lap. “i can’t recall, do you mind refreshing my memory?”

yuta grins and places his hand on your ass cheeks. “aren’t you too sore?”

“pain is my best friend,” you nip at his lip and he groans.

yuta kisses you and his hand goes to your throat tilting your head to the side and biting your neck harshly. you whimper at the painful yet pleasurable sensation. yuta shushes you and darts his eyes to you. “i thought you enjoyed the pain, baby girl.”

one year ago

you’re standing in front of his gravestone and place the flower bouquet next to it. the only sound is the wind, rustling through a nearby copse of trees. it has been five days since yuta died and the hole in your chest only gets deeper.

it hurts.

you’re broken.

your life without him means nothing. the city without him means nothing. nothing makes sense without him.

“you shouldn’t have died,” you say. “we could have been better.” you mumble, sitting in front of the grave. “it’s weird, today i woke up and i thought i heard your voice. am i going crazy?” you scoff.

you stare at the gravestone and then lower your heard. “i came to say goodbye. i can’t stay here anymore. everywhere i go i see your face. everyone reminds me of you.”

you feel tears streaming down your face. “i’ll never forget you, yuta. i love you so much.” you burst out crying.

after you left town, you were pretty much everywhere: singapore, thailand, indonesia, philippines, malaysia and even japan for a few weeks. racing and making a fame known as the ‘nameless girl’ who would beat everyone.

you left a note to johnny saying you’d be okay and you would return when you feel ready to.

you didn’t stay long in every country and you didn’t make any relations so things didn’t attach to you there. you were lonely but you got used to it. and you didn’t dislike it.

one night, you decided it was time to come back home. yuta would never come back and you felt you moved on.

the train arrives at its last stop and you grab your small suitcase exiting it. you walk and take a taxi to your house, or johnny’s house just to find a party. people and their racing cars everywhere.

of course. it’s friday.

you get into your house and see people everywhere. people dancing, no, grinding on each other’s bodies and blowing some smoke. perhaps weed. you walk through the crowded living room and spot johnny sipping a beer. you don’t know how he's going to react since you didn’t tell anyone you’re back.

you walk to johnny but he’s interrupted by a red haired and kissed him. you roll your eyes, johnny and his bitches.

you change your direction walking to the kitchen and see jaehyun talking to some people. he turns to you and doesn’t seem to notice you, it’s when he turns again and his face brightens up with a smile. “y/n!” he walks to you and tugs you for a hug, lifting you from the ground.

“hi,” you giggle, placing a kiss on his cheek.

jaehyun puts you back on the ground and smiles, "i almost didn't recognize you, you've changed so much."

“i just dyed my hair: i got babylights,” you grin.

“i like them, you look great,” jaehyun nods. “but where have you been?!”

“huh everywhere?” you shrug.

“and you couldn’t call?” he stares at you.

“i know, i’m sorry,” you rest a hand on his shoulder. “we’ll talk later, okay? where’s everyone?”

“johnny is lena, jungwoo is having a blunt with jinsoul in the yard and of course jisung is in his room, he’s not allowed to come downstairs,” jaehyun comments.

you nod and rest your hands on your waist. “i don’t know half of these people. who are they?”

“johnny became kind of a sponsor?” jaehyun frowns and you laugh. “no, it’s true! half of these people are rich kids betting on johnny's people, he met two guys that are literally gods of racing.”

“i’d like to see that,” you add. “what are their names?”

“mark lee and lee donghyuck,” jaehyun hands you a beer. “they’re dickheads but we’ve been getting so much money because of them.”

you scoff. “they’re just lucky. i am back.”

jaehyun whistles, smiling. “that’s the attitude, baby. i can’t wait to see you race again.”

you smirk. “i bet you wanna.”

“ah, johnny’s coming,” jaehyun murmurs.

you turn and see a blond haired johnny walking towards you. you tuck your hands into your jeans pocket and smile nicely. “hi brother.”

“when people started saying my sister was here i didn’t believe it because maybe she left this fucking town a year ago leaving just a note!” johnny exclaims. “and thought ‘why would she return just like that?’”

you sigh. “i’m sorry, johnny. but i’m back and i’m okay. that’s the only thing that should matters.”

johnny rolls his eyes. “are you dumb?”

you frown. “just because you’re my brother i d-

“half-brother,” johnny remarks.

“fuck you, johnny,” you hiss and leave the kitchen

when johnny gets upset he tends to be the classical dickhead and uses the ‘half-brother’ excuse just to hurt you. you think you might deserve it, but why is it so hard for him to understand why you left? why you need to leave?

maybe it’s because he has never loved someone the way you loved yuta. or maybe he’s too selfish to understand it.

of course you also think you didn’t do the right thing by simply disappearing out of the blue, but again, you don’t owe anything to no one.

you go to the bathroom that is next to the stairs and groan when you realise it’s locked. you lean against the wall and sigh. next to you, there are three girls whispering and laughing. you don’t care, until you hear your name.

“did you see y/n? she’s back,” one of them says.

“yeah. i thought she was in jail,” the other mocks.

“in jail? for what?” she laughs.

“apparently she was the one that killed yuta,” she comments. “and ran away, but my boyfriend told me the police caught her.”

the blonde one laughs. “poor thing.”

“and i’d go back to jail for ripping your ugly faces off,” you murmur, still leaning against the wall.

the girls stare at you and they decide to leave. you groan, rolling your eyes. “assholes.”

someone walking down the hallway whistles and smiles at you. “should i be concerned about my well being right now?.”

you look at them and you see a black haired guy, wearing a green jacket with black ripped jeans and black shirt. you scoff. “fuck off, dude.”

“but please don’t rip my face off.,” the guy rests his hand on his chest.

you stare at him and clench your jaw. “bugger off, dude. really, i’m not in the mood to take someone’s shit.”

“sorry,” he nods. “i’m mark by the way,” he passes the bottle of the beer he’s drinking to his free hand and extends his hand.

you look at his hand, hesitant. you shake your head and take it. “y/n.”

he grins, gripping at your hand. “you’re the famous y/n.”

you chuckle. “and you’re not the famous mark lee.”

mark smiles sideways. “so you’ve heard about me.”

“very little,” you shrug. “nothing impressive.”

“ah, they weren’t wrong when they said you’re a bitch,” mark frees your hand.

“did i hurt your feelings?” you pout mockingly.

“you’re gonna need more than that to hurt my feelings, gorgeous,” he winks at you.

you nod. “noted, boy. well, it was nice talking to you.”

“you leaving already?” mark asks.

“yeah. i’m tired and i need a place to sleep,” you say. “i guess i’ll see you around.”

mark nods. “have a good night, y/n.”

(...)

“when did she get back? how come i didn't see her?” donghyuck slides off the plastic armrest of the outdoor sofa he was sitting on.

jeno walks away to get a drink. “who 's back?” he asks.

“y/n suh,” mark replies.

“johnny’s sister?” jeno looks at him.

donghyuck and mark nod.

“what was she in jail for, like, a year?” jeno’s voice drops to a whisper.

“she was in jail?” donghyuck stares at mark.

“no. she just disappeared last fall,” mark explains.

“it was probably jail,” donghyuck adds, “that or she had a baby. i mean, the timing kind of fits for that, don’t you think?”

“and where’s the baby, smartass?” mark glances at him.

“gave it away for adoption,” donghyuck shrugs.

“what are you fuckers talking about,” johnny questions, going outside the house.

“your sibling,” jeno admits, earning an elbow to his side by mark.

johnny laughs and turns to look out over his yard. “which one?”

“y/n.”

“watch it, dude,” jaehyun warns him, joining them outside.. “johnny’s not too forgiving when it comes to his siblings.”

“noted.” jeno nods.

“anyways, i’m here to talk business,” johnny sits in front of them.

“back to the things i like,” mark comments.

johnny grins. “there’s a race next weekend, 15 grand for the winner.”

donghyuck whistles. “i like what i’m hearing already.”

“it’s a bit complicated since it won’t be in an enclosed area as usual. it will be in downtown LA,” johnny adds.

“count me in,” mark says.

“dude, do you know how risky it is?” jeno stares at him.

“i’ve done riskier things and here i am,” mark rolls his eyes. “i’ll be there, johnny.”

“you’re my favourite,” johnny smiles and looks at jeno and donghyuck. “you two are disappointing me.”

“i can live with that but not in jail,” donghyuck smirks.

“pussy,” jaehyun hums.

“sorry mr. in-n-out-from-jail,” donghyuck rolls his eyes.

mark chuckles. “that race it’s already mine. and the cops can suck my dick, they wish they were as fast as me.”

“my canadian boy right here is the shit,” johnny smiles.

(...)

the bright neon lights. the skimpy clothing worn by chasers. the many cars lined up.

it's another night in los angeles, and another night means another race.

mark breathes it in as he leans on his orange acura nsx. not a single scratch in sight on the top of the car. although he's working with a sponsor, he has his own gang known as death angels, because they’re risk takers, or most of them are.. he can hear the countless bickering of his gang, who are also his closest friends. donghyuck, jeno, and earphone yves, lucas, bickering about god knows what now. jeno and lucas are conversing about seeing some new people joining the race.

there's no doubt he probably owns the most showy and expensive car in the entire parking lot. until a brown haired girl, who he knows, motioned him to come over.

you.

"seems like you got a challenger," donghyuck murmurs.

"tsk, anyone can beat her. what's so special about her anyway?" mark says, annoyed.

yves clicks her tongue. "i wouldn't be so sure about it, babe."

you get off from your car, hair tied up, perfectly showing your features. your toned eyes are slightly covered with black eyeliner. wearing tight jeans, black t-shirt and a red leather jacket.

you look like you are meant to be there. not a chaser wanting attention, not a flag girl wanting to show herself off, but. tracer. the crowd don't bother you. you begin to slightly look around, and that's when you see mark. you and mark lock eyes, and with a strut, you walk with a confident walk over mark.

crossing your arms, showing off your figure, you take a breath, and open your mouth. "no shit you're here as well."

mark scoffs. "i'm a car racer, where else was i supposed to be?"

"junior leagues," you shrug and you hear one of his friends laugh.

mark stares at you and grins. "i challenge you to a race. simply, nobody else. that is if you are up for it."

the offer is rather simple.

an easy 10-second style race, just the two of you, nobody else.

you let out a breathy chuckle, nodding your head. "alright then, it's settled." you reply, standing up to his level, and leaning over his ear. "but don't be crying when you loose, sweetheart"

mark scoffs at that. "you're underestimating my ability right now, gorgeous." he says, poking his lips out in a seductive manner.

you laugh and he smiles.

you turn around for just a few seconds, yelling over to him words that are barely audible. “te veré al inicio de la línea,” (i'll see you at the starting lineyou say.

mark’s orange acura nsx is a perfect fit considering the late at night arrival they have been in. it’s his prized possession, obviously. he checks the side of his car, smirking to himself seeing the NOS lined up on the passenger seat. however, your white nissan gtr is a good contrast. no dent is seen on it, and the engines flare when you start it, earning an erupt from the spectators. fifteen thousand dollars are on the game, and you need that money.

you notice the flag-girl as one of the members of death angels. she wears a simple purple and black outfit: purple harem pants and a black bomber jacket, carefully showing her slightest laced bra. she looks good, there’s no denying it. and with that, she points at mark, starting his engines and giving a show for his car. then she points to you, and you’re wearing a smile on your face. your engines starting.

and time seems to stop when you hear words emit from her mouth. “go!”

mark and you immediately go and hit the accelerator at about the same time, so you two are neck and neck. you know your strategy, and mark knows his.

8 seconds left.

knowing this, mark uses his NOS, eating a prideful laugh and his back hitting the seat. but you have different plans. you wear a smug look, and let out a giggle. “the NOS he’s using will take a shorter time than it relatively should.” you think you yourself, and activate yours.

6 seconds left.

you fly back to your seat, seeing the crowd erupt in cheers. mark sees your white nissan catch up to him, and before he knows, you’re way ahead of him.

“shit!” he yells.

2 seconds.

and before he knows, you are at the finish line, turning your car around and creating a donut with it, earning praise from the crowd. marks ends up second, or last in this case. he gets out of the car with a scowl, and you make your way to him, with a smile on your face, and your hair is out of the ponytail you have been wearing.

“the NOS you used, doesn't take up as much time as normal NOS used. it was a bit too early,” you say, giving your hand out to him. he clicks his tongue, now slightly irritated to know the fact you're indeed right. marks gives you the money. “pass by the shop any time you want.”

“why would you want to help me anyways? we’re rivals now,” he cocks an eyebrow.

you sigh, when you are interrupted by the shouts of numerous spectators and blaring sirens.

“cops! cops!”

everything happens so fast. next thing you know, you are in the back of your car, hitting your foot on the accelerator and immediately rushing out of the area, keeping an eye out for cops in your view mirror. luckily, you don’t seem to spot many. but where you don’t look?

right in front of you.

bullets ricochet throughout the alley way, earning a slight flinch from you. you are scared. only a few times bullets have been in front of you. you quickly take out your silver handgun from out of your shirt, shooting at the cop, not enough to kill him, but it’s enough to get him to surrender.

“bullet proof vests don’t cover the legs, idiot,” you mumble, smirking ever so slightly. you turn a sharp left, going back to the place where you call home. a right. then left. another right. straight forward 2 miles, and there you are.

“ＳＵＨ　ＭＥＣＨＡＮＩＣＳ　ＡＮＤ　ＭＡＮＵＦＡＣＴＵＲＩＮＧ” is written in bold letters. you love this place, you and your brother practically grow up there. you make your way inside, after swiftly parking your car into your garage. the shop is somewhat connected to the house from behind, so you make your way out of the garage, locking the door swiftly, and arriving with 2 familiar faces.

“you had no business ruining mark’s race!” johnny stands in front of you. he’s angry.

“forget about that!” jaehyun stares at johnny and then at you. “you just returned like two hours ago and the cops are after you already? can you be more careful?”

“ah, br- sorry, half-brother, jaehyun. i appreciate the concern and all, but i got this covered, you know?” you reply and look at your brother. “and please, if you really cared about mark you would have recommended him a new NOS. his sucks.”

jaehyun presses his lips together. “it’s true. i’ve been telling you about that for weeks.”

johnny rolls his eyes. “it’s not my fault. the kid won’t change them.”

“well, then you should find a new guy because you won’t make much money with him.” you say and you take out your money. “and me? i am back, baby.”

jaehyun smirks. “then i guess beers are on you.”

“you guess right.”

(...)

mark rushes off in his car, having donghyuck joining him. he locks his gun, having his fingers on the trigger for any given moment. mark sighs out a stuttered breath, immediately hitting the accelerator and rushing out of the way. he has another tank full of NOS, that donghyuck simply swaps out, for mark to use at any moment.

“jeno and yves have made it back alright,” donghyuck tells him, while mark drives at an inhumane pace.

mark nods and takes the exit 12, driving to glendale. and after almost 25 minutes, they arrive at their warehouse. he parks his car next to jeno’s and they make their way inside.

“dude! that was fucking awesome!” jeno approaches him. “now i understand why the streets wouldn't shut up about her.”

yves rolls his eyes. “it was just lucky. she’s not that good.”

“then you wouldn't mind racing against her,” donghyuck hums.

“please, she’s nothing to me,” yves smirks.

“she got you mad,” mark walks to the kitchen. “she is something to you.”

“anyway,” jeno locks the door. “who sent those policemen? it’s weird, we have been using the same location for months,” jeno asks.

“someone was there. someone who’s purpose wasn’t to spectate or race, but to infliritrate,” mark sighs, adjusting his belt from his jeans.

“i’m wondering if suh is single,” donghyuck sits, ignoring the talk his friends are having.

“johnny or y/n?” mark mocks him.

“she doesn’t date,” yves sits next to him. “or that’s what i’ve heard.”

“since when you’re a fan of gossip?” jeno frowns.

“you don’t need to gossip, everyone talks about her and her tragic love life,” yves shrugs.

“so she wasn’t in jail?” donghyuck inquiries.

“i already told you she wasn’t in jail, smartass,” mark tosses him a beer.

“then where was she?” jeno sits in front of donghyuck.

yves slides a little on the couch. “you ever heard about nakamoto yuta?”

the three men shake their heads. yves rolls her eyes. “he used to work for the korean mafia and the yakuza doing what? i don’t know, but he was well known before we arrived here.”

“and what happened to him?” jeno asks.

“he messed with the wrong people, and he paid for his mistakes,” yves says. “they got him and killed him.”

“and how is he related to y/n?” mark rubs his chin with his index finger.

“they were together,” yves pulls out a box of cigarettes. “and days after his murder, she went away.”

jeno grimaces. “i would’ve done the same. it’s sad.”

“well, he’s dead and we can’t do shit to help her,” donghyuck stretches out his arms. “she’s hot.”

“dude,” jeno chuckles. “we were just talking about his dead boyfriend and you’re saying she’s hot?”

“donghyuck only uses his lower head,” yves mocks. “why are you even surprised?”

mark laughs and donghyuck rolls his eyes. “i’m gonna race against her again.”

“dude, you want to lose again?” jeno stares at him.

mark frowns. “a little bit of support?”

(...)

a few days later, you are working at your peace in call, the mechanic shop. you work with jungwoo, jaehyun, and johnny. jaehyun is an incredibly talented racer, that’s for sure, he was the one who taught you everything you know. johnny and jaehyun are practically always together.

they have been friends since high school, and he’s close with you as well, despite you going to a different school.

so, there you are currently stocking up the shelves and displays with certain kinds of replacements and NOS, to whoever needs them. you wear leather pants, along with a white turtleneck shirt. your hair is down.

“do you have everything locked? storage room too, jungwoo?” you ask the blond.

“yep! johnny is currently working on the new car by the way. he said the client wanted something old school, and because of this, he got inspiration from somewhere,” he informs.

you raise an eyebrow, handing jungwoo the remaining products form the shelves, and making your way inside the shop. you see a black haired man glancing at the shelves with NOS.

you approach him. “hi, welcome. can i help you?”

the man turns and he smiles at you.

mark lee.

you stop the urge of rolling your eyes. “and we see each other.”

“you told me i could pass by whenever i wanted to,” he shrugs. “

“that was me being nice because i beat you,” you smirk.

mark grins. “then i suppose i should go to the Fascinare’s shop? i heard they’re nicer.”

if you and johnny didn’t hate the Facinare you probably would’ve told him to go, but since they are your competition you couldn't afford losing a customer.

you sigh. “of course we can help you.” you fake a smile.

“that’s what i thought,” mark says. “how many days will it take?”

you take a look at his car. “up to 1 to 3 days.”

he nods. “fantastic. i’ll be looking forward to racing against you again then.”

you scoff, crossing your arms on your chest. “i can give your car all the NOS in this world and yet, you won’t beat me.”

“you were just lucky the other night, gorgeous,” he winks at you.

“maybe if you focus on racing instead of flirting you might beat me,” you grin.

mark chuckles and nods. “right. i’ll leave you my phone so you can give me a call when my baby is ready.”

“my god,” you hum. “be right back.”

you go behind the counter and grab a small notebook and a pen. you hand it to mark and write his number down. “i’ll be looking forward for that call.”

“hopefully it won't be me making it,” you smile falsely.

“alright. see you then,” marks says, exiting the shop. “don’t miss me much, gorgeous.”

you roll your eyes again, and smile lowering your head.

you then frown and shake your head.

#yuta x reader #yuta smut #yuta imagine #yuta nct #mark lee smut #mark lee imagine #mark lee x reader #mark lee nct #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct 127 x reader #mark lee #yuta nakamoto #nakamoto yuta

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palbabor-writes · 4 years ago

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Shigaraki finally seeing the new recruit without her mask, finding out she’s super hot, and then Shig just basically stares at her all the time, trying to make any and every excuse for her to take off her mask. Can be NSFW, I absolutely would not mind it. Just want Shiggy to find me so attractive he’d nearly kill me to see my face again :p

hey, hi! idk if this is exactly what you had in mind but i did my best ~(˘▽˘)~ warnings: death threats, vaginal fingering

“I don’t know why you bother with the make-up. Right after you finish, you just tack that mask of yours on, covering up all of that extra ornamentation you insist on wearing. Such a waste of time,” Giran scoffs, annoyed that you’ve delayed his meeting with Tomura Shigaraki, again.

“Would it shock you if I said: I don’t give a fuck what you think?” you grin, shouldering open the bar door and dramatically ushering for the broker to enter before you.

“Hmph,” Giran snorts, rolling his eyes. He takes a long drag of his cigarette, careful to blow the smoke toward your masked face. “You’re a piece of work, you know that?”

“Whaaat? Me? Oh my God, I’ve never, ever heard that before. And for you to say something so cutting? I’m hurt,” you mock.

“Who’s a piece of work?” Toga calls out as you close the door behind you, knocking the last of the noxious wisps of smoke away.

“Me,” you announce loudly, pacing toward one of the bar stools and seating yourself on the red leather.

“Awe, why’s that?” Twice begins sincerely before stumbling into a quick, “Well, it’s fucking true.”

“He doesn’t like that I took a little bit of extra time to put on make-up. Shigaraki isn’t even down here yet, so I don’t see what the big deal is,” you snark, turning your head toward Giran. He has the grace to give you a disgruntled lifting of his shoulders.

“Well,” Spinner chimes in, “it does seem a little pointless. You are wearing a mask and not just some half mask, that thing covers your whole face.”

“Pointless! Why, no my dear, that’s not pointless, not at all!” Compress defends, his gloved finger tutting Spinner’s hunched figure. “You never know what the next performance will call for! One must always be prepared.”

“Oooh, do you do, like, eyeliner? I looove the winged points.” Toga declares, striding over and leaning close, her big yellow eyes blinking up at you.

“Yeah. I can do winged eyeliner,” you confirm, a grin spreading across your lips. Not that any of them can see it, but they’ll likely hear it’s lift in your voice.

“Ahhh! Teach me, teach me!” Toga claps her hands and perches on the seat next to you. “Oh wait! Before that, can I see it? Just so I can tell how good you are.”

“See? Ah, my face. Um, yeah, I guess...” you begin, fingers reaching behind your jaw, tugging the reinforced porcelain away. Toga’s eyes widen and she cups her face between her hands and hushed gasp sneaking out of her lips.

“You’re so pretty!” she beams. You’re just about to answer her when she tilts her head past you, looking at someone over your shoulder. “Whaddaya’ think Tomura? I like her even better without the mask! You think she’s pretty too, right?”

Without thinking, you twist to look at the league’s defacto leader. He’s stepping out of that long hallway, his face obscured by the pale fingers of Father. However, he does pause, cocking his head at you. From what you can see of his expression, he does look a bit, uh, staggered. One red eye is gleaming out at you, the whites almost comically wide and he lifts a hand to his neck, fingers automatically scritching at the skin they land on. His head rises, chin jutting forward and he takes a step forward, toward you.

Odd, you think, instinctively biting on your lower lip. It’s not like him to stare. Well, at least not that intently. Usually, he ignores your presence, treating you more like the background furniture than a living, breathing, person. Toga’s question hangs on the air and the others start to notice the shift too, their gazes passing between the two of you. You’re about to croak out some kinda response, when Shigaraki does the honors for you.

“We have a meeting,” he rasps and something in his tone breaks the spell. His head finally turns from you and you lower your gaze, sliding your mask back over your features.

“Awe,” Toga bemoans, hopping down from the bar stool. “Don’t think you’re getting out of helping me with my make-up!” She scolds, tossing you a swift wink before following the others as they gather around a low table.

They don’t need you for this part so you shift off of your seat and press open the front door, grateful for the cool autumn air that hits you. You lean up against the brick siding and take a moment to steady your thumping heartbeat. That was a, um, strange interaction.

You’d never put much thought into Shigaraki. He was quiet and there wasn’t much cause for the two of you to interact. Well, besides passing his requests on to Giran, or confirming shipment dates. Honestly, it was nigh impossible to get a read on him most days. Namely because, like you, he always had something obscuring his face.

Despite that, he did have a pleasing build, with broad shoulders, cabled neck muscles and you’d always quietly admired the snaking length of his long legs. The fact that he had white hair and startling red eyes were two other bonuses. You’ve always had a thing for guys that sported a long mop of pearlescent waves and Shigaraki was a pristine specimen in that regard.

Even so, it’s not like you knew much about the guy and you doubted that was going to change any time soon. No, he’d likely only been taken aback by your startled expression. You couldn’t help it. Once Toga had uttered his name you’d wanted to see him, so, so curious to see if he’d comment on your appearance. Would he like you? Notice you? Say something maybe? But, he hadn’t.

So, yeah. That was that. Right?

******

A week passes before you slide into the bar again. This time of year is always busy, but you’ve carved out some time to double check on the league’s shipment requests.

The main room of the bar is quiet, but you can see Shigaraki’s dark back, hunched over the bar top. His head tilts toward you when he hears the door close and that bright eye of his is doing that fervid glint again. His look travels from your neck to your covered face and you can swear his eye narrows when it lands on the smooth surface of your mask.

“What?” he asks, his tone low.

“Uh, I was coming to check on the shipments. See if there was anything extra that you guys needed.”

“Ask Kurogiri,” he clips, that lone eye of his continuing to transverse the planes of your covered face.

“Alright. I’ll go and look for him– ”

“Why do you wear that?” Shigaraki suddenly asks. It’s a simple question, but it makes your heart start that ragged tattoo again. What is wrong with you? You’d think he’d asked for you to strip naked and lay atop the bar, what with the way your heartbeats are palpitating. What’s the big deal?

“Wh-what?” you blankly hear yourself stammering out. You know what he’s asking. You’re not stupid. Apparently, your brain has another plan in mind and that involves, um, playing dumb?

“Your mask,” Shigaraki supplies, his voice falling into a hushed rasp. “Why do you wear it?”

“Well, why do you wear a hand on your face?” Shit. Fuck. What? Why did you say that?

The bar stool scrapes back and you can’t help but wince at the sound, your body flinching. He’s slow as he steps forward, his fingers carefully threaded into his pockets. Once he’s a few feet from you, you let out a slow breath, praying he can’t hear the ragged thuds of your pulse.

“Take it off. The mask, that is,” Shigaraki demands and you can hear that grin, that wicked, wicked smirk that you can only imagine is parting his lips. Lips that you’ve never seen. Lips that are so close. If only he’d...oh, that’s an idea...

“No,” you reply. Your voice is even and strong, thank God, but it doesn’t grant you an immediate reprieve. No, your defiance only makes him shift closer, his chest nearly bumping against yours.

He’s not much taller than you. It’s likely only an inch or two difference, but it suddenly feels like he’s miles above you. Instinctively, you arch your neck, closing that tiny distance to peer up at him. He’s watching you intently and you can hear the steady, in and out, pulls of his breath. Shigaraki lets another few beats pass before he answers your challenge, leaning forward, demanding your full attention with his overwhelming proximity.

“I can just decay it off, you know. It would be easy. But, if I do that, well, you’d need to be quick. You’d have to get it off of you in seconds, because once it starts, it’s hard to predict and I’d hate for my quirk to take the rest of you with it.”

“You’d risk killing me, just to see my face again?”

“Tch. Sure. If you wanna look at it that way. It was a pretty face, (Y/N). So here’s my advice: don’t be fucking obstinate and do as I say.”

“What if...what if I make a deal with you?”

Shigaraki barks out a laugh and the sharp angles of his lips spread past the palm of Father. “A deal? I’ll say it again, since I guess you didn’t hear me the first time, I can decay it off. I don’t need to bargain with you.”

“Sure,” you qualify, the heavy pants of your exhales hitting the front of your mask, bathing you in wild, damp, warmth. “But I don’t like the idea of being the only one who is exposed. Why don’t you let me see you, too?”

“Me?” Shigaraki asks, his head ducking slightly, voice clipping over the word. “Why?”

“Please?” Your hands lift of their own accord, ghosting over the lines of his forearms. You can hear his breath hitch and you rejoice at the tiny sound. He’s right. He could simply raise a hand and disintegrate your mask, and possibly you, to bits, to fucking pieces, but you wanna know. You wanna see him. Besides, you’re starting to like this standoff. There’s something coiling under it and you can almost taste the line of tension that’s tightening between the two of you.

“Only for a second,” you promise, imbuing your tone with airy light. “Come on, what are you scared of? Like you said, it wouldn’t take much for you to kill me. Might be easier even, if I’m, mmm, distracted.”

“You first,” he commands, one of his hands rising from his dark pocket, hovering beside the golden base of Father.

“Ugh. You’re not gonna go back on your part, are you?” you tease, fingers already cupping at your jaw, peeling the heated porcelain away from your skin.

“I might,” Shigaraki taunts, “you’ll need to take that mask off to find out, won’t you? Oh, and you can go slow. Since you seem to be partial to the theatrics of it all, why don’t you put on a nice show for me?”

Woah.

A gasp falls from your lips before you can contain it and Shigaraki presses his advantage, his white hair falling toward you as he looms impossibly closer, that red eye glowing in the darkness of the bar. Ok, ok, you think, gulping down your nerves and that rising crest of fucking arousal that’s pricking between your legs.

Your mask is leaden in your hands, but you do your best to steady your shaking fingers. You can feel the familiar weight slipping from your chin, your cheeks, your nose, but it feels different, too. Charged and heavy. A light rush of gooseflesh bumps its way up your arms and you tremble when the mask finally slides past one half of your face.

Without warning, Shigaraki’s hand whips forward, snatching onto your wrist. That one, all important, finger is arched away but he stills your movements with a squeeze, his eye whisking over you. He lets his gaze linger indulgently against your lips, tracing the dip and pout of your mouth. Then, he lifts his intensity to your own stare, that broad smile rising along his lips. A pleased rumble echoes from his chest and you almost reply with a moan.

Fuck. This is...

It’s like standing too close to an open flame and your whole body feels like it’s reacting to the sting, the burn that is rising within you. “Do...do you want me to keep going?”

His reply is a silent one. Silent, but firm. That hand that’s wrapped around your wrist, that’s blazing the heat of him into you, pulls. It takes your arm and the rest of your mask with it, leaving you bare and vulnerable, completely at the mercy of that hungry eye.

You can’t fucking breathe and you’re biting your lip so hard that you’re worried the skin is about to split open. Shigaraki is quiet but his head tilts, cascading white hair against his dark shoulder. This is ridiculous, you think, unable to snatch yourself away from him. It’s not even both eyes. He’s only looking at you with one eye. Shit, what will two eyes do? Is he going to keep his side of this? Do you even really want him to? What if...it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what it means, or what it does, you want to see him, all of him.

After all, fair is fair.

His fingers are still curled around your wrist and you feel each indentation of his finger pads, hot against your chilled flesh. “S-so,” you begin, your words snagging in your throat, “are you gonna hold up your end?”

You can hear his snort of amusement but he does release your hand. Once his elegant digits pass the pasty gloom of the embalmed hand on his face, you can feel your heartbeat slowing, your eyes following his motions, watching, waiting. He’s not as slow as you were, but he gives you a moment to savor, teasingly lifting the obscuring palm up and away.

Oh.

Your mask clatters to the floor, skittering across the wood, shattering the weighty silence. Without thinking, your hand comes up to his cheek, letting your brave thumb run across that tiny mole on his chin. He’s not handsome. No, he’s not what anyone would deem perfect, not with those cracks and scars, but fuck, he’s beautiful. It’s a shattered magnificence and you’re so glad you asked him for it.

“Didn’t say you could touch,” Shigaraki growls, his voice rasping toward that lower register.

“It’s ok,” you reassure him, your other hand lifting to feel out the smooth and rough patches of his skin. “You can touch me, too.”

He groans at that, those red eyes finally slipping closed. He’s uneasy at this part, his hands too broad and too jittery to really appreciate the curve of your face, but dips his head closer, his forehead pressing against yours.

When you dance your fingers over his lips, he moves in the same moment. He’s arms cage around you and he yanks you to him, sucking, biting, kissing you until you can’t think, let alone breathe.

The bump of the couch is a surprise and you topple backwards, splayed across the tattered cushions. You hadn’t even realized you’d taken those steps, that he’d pushed you that way. It doesn’t matter, because he’s on top of you, seconds later, his fingers everywhere, touching every part of you that he can reach.

“How are you so warm?” he asks, sliding his palms under your shirt, cupping at the roundness of your breasts. His voice is soft, awed, and you grin up at him, urging his lips back to yours.

“What’s the matter?” you tease, worrying his chapped lip between your teeth. “What happened to all those death threats?”

Shigaraki smirks, pulling away from your mischievous bites, that long scar across his lip rising. One of his hands wanders downward, feeling for the edge of your pants, while the other encloses around your neck, clamping until you’re arching under him, eyes shut and lips parted.

“You like that I can kill you?” he leers, finally snapping the button of your jeans open, permitting his inquisitive touch to dip into something even warmer than the skin of your breasts. He breaches the fluttering petals of your cunt and glides into your heat, hissing at the slick that pools around him.

The hand at your throat squeezes again, demanding your answer. “Y-yes,” you gasp, hips canting up at the steady rhythm he’s building inside you.

“Hmm,” he ponders, releasing your neck and lifting that hand in front of your face. “Then you better hope I can control myself. We’ll start with something simple. These clothes of yours should be easy enough to decay...” His thumb swipes across your budding clit and you writhe, squirming and panting. “Ah-ah,” he warns a cruel grin spreading along his lips. “Keep still. I’d hate for my hand to slip.”

Carefully, he lowers his free hand, trailing it toward your shirt. Once four fingers are curled under the hem, he reapplies his other thumb, circling until you’re white knuckling the cushions. “Don’t forget,” he reminds you, adding the tiniest pressure to his oscillations, “one wrong move and you’re nothing but bone and gristle. Tch, it would be such poor timing too, what when we’re just starting to have so much fun together”

Then, he lowers that deadly finger.

notes: again, not sure if it’s exactly what you had in mind, but I had fun with it!

#asks #answered asks #pal muses #on tomura #and on his face #and fingers #just all of him #shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki #tekno shimura #shimura tenko #bnha smut #drabble

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jawllines · 4 years ago

Note

Sorry to be annoying but I asked awhile ago and I think tumblr ate my ask but did you ever do tattoo Harry blurb? I love them and I miss them:( I’ve looked through your tags and there isn’t any on there if you have posted one

I CAN POST ONE I WROTE A WHILE AGO RIGHT NOW :D I DONT THINK I POSTED HERE BUT LET ME KNOW HERE YOU GO PET

“Baby -- baby, c’mon!”

It was rare that Harry ever woke Y/N with more than kisses and cuddles. Maybe an abrupt shoulder shake if the both of them slept through their alarms (and, considering that they are the only ones with the key to open up their own respective stores, they never typically arrived late facing happy employees -- or in Y/N’s case, employee -- Niall, in particular, was always more of a grump in that situation than Riktor even), but even that still managed to be tender, and soft. He always treated her so delicately, as if she were made up of porcelain in the morning and it was imperative to speak in a low, soothing voice with careful touches or she might shatter. And she really didn’t think it was because she was an absolute terror to wake up -- Y/N did quite well, even as early as 5 AM she was still in somewhat of a pleasant mood, certainly nothing to be fearful of -- she thinks he’s just gentle in the morning. He’s gentle all the time, but for some reason or another, he’s extra soft with her then.

They had both had a bit of a busy day, so by the time that they made it back to Y/N’s flat (Harry said he liked it there best because it smelled like her, and -- well, he softens her up and calls her Darling when he wants them to go over there, so it’s hard to say no), both of them were ready for bed. Neither of them could barely keep their eyes open as they scarfed down the burgers they’d picked up on the way home, and once they’d finished and brushed their teeth, they toppled into each other on the mattress. Y/N would reckon they both fell asleep before their heads had even hit the pillow -- she doesn’t even remember crawling beneath the blankets.

Apparently she had though, because now as her brain tunes in with the world around her and she realizes that the distorted voice that had begun to prod her dreams was actually a grumpy, dry throat Harry, she’s cuddling herself closer in the covers. This only makes him grumble at her more, “You’re such a blanket hog,” he whines and Y/N finally blinks her eyes open, being greeted with Harry’s disgruntled, pouted face illuminated by the sunlight beginning to slip through the blinds, “I’ve been trying to unravel it for like ten minutes, but you’re all wrapped up! I’m cold.”

Y/N smiles sleepily at him, not understanding the gravity of the situation entirely as she begins to un-burrito herself from the covers, “G’morning, beautiful,” she murmurs as she does so, finally disentangling from the blankets and while she was a little less warm, Harry was quick to wiggle in beneath them, “Sorry.”

“Don’ be sweet when m’tryin’ to be angry with you,” she puckers her lips at him dramatically, and though he sighs, he leans in and presses their mouths together softly, “Your kisses aren’t g’na sweeten me up, m’still grumpy, blanket hog.”

She can only hum as she cuddles closer to him, “Sorry,” she repeated, this time adding, “Like to swaddle myself like a lil’ baby. Reckon you weren’t holdin’ me well enough last night.”

An offended gasp leaves through his lips soundly, enough that it startles her, but his arms worm around her waist and draw her closer to his body, “Brat,” he grumbled, dipping his nose into her throat, “I held you so well and you just wiggled right out of my arms and took all the covers with you.”

“Like a worm -- I wiggled out like a worm or somethin’,” she tried to sit up but his arms tightened around her, “This worm has to pee though and she’ll soak the bed if she isn’t allowed.”

His arm loosens around her, “This worm sounds like she’s a sleepy sort of delusional that requires about two hours more of rest.”

Y/N stumbles toward the bathroom in her room, “Noooooooo,” she whines, frowning at nobody, not bothering to swing the door shut before she plops on the cold toilet seat to relieve herself, “We’re supposed to go get hot chocolate, no more sleep.”

“Baby, it’s 6 AM and I’ve been up the last 30 minutes freezing my bits off!” He calls back to her and she giggles some, her eyes trying to accommodate to the bright white lights of the bathroom, “Sleep just a bit more and we’ll get the hot chocolate when we wake up next.”

She waits until she flushes and washes her hands to respond to him, and though she knows that she is definitely going to crawl back in bed and fall asleep, she stands at the foot of it with her hands in fists at her hips. He had let his eyes flutter closed by then but she thinks he could feel her eyeballing him, so he looks up past the mountain of blankets now covering him so she could only see his eyes and his nose, “What’re you doing?”

“You’re telling me, you don’t wanna go at 6 AM, three hours before the kiosk even opens to get hot chocolate with me? You must really hate me, don’t you?”

He huffs a sharp breath through his nose which is how he usually laughs in the morning, when he can’t muster up the strength to have a proper giggle, “Absolutely loathe you, baby doll, but could you please come back to bed so I can loathe you in the warmth?”

It takes little persuading -- as she said, she knew she was just going to crawl right back in beside him -- and instead of relying too heavily on the blankets to provide her warmth (like wrapping up half of it around her so she was cocooned entirely. . .this is what she normally does, and she would say that’s probably why Harry almost never has any of the covers in the morning), she relies on him. Picks up his arm so that she can fit herself underneath it and lies her cheek on his chest, “Your pits better not be smelly.”

“I make no promises.”

. . .

“I love your hair.”

“Stop it, Sweetheart, I’m g’na start blushing.”

They had slept for four more hours rather than the two Harry had originally suggested, but that always happens with them. Y/N would say that they are just too content cuddled up with one another that they milk it for all it’s worth. If one of them wakes up before the other, then they just settle their head back down and close their eyes again. Unless they had somewhere to be, of course, but Harry had a free Saturday (no clients schedule, even though Saturday’s could often be some of his heaviest days) and he’d elected to spend it with her -- whether they were awake or asleep didn’t much mater, they just liked to be near each other.

When they finally did wake up, they lazily got dressed into about thirty layers so they wouldn’t freeze outside. The weather had grown frigid quite quickly this November, and neither of them stood the cold very well, but there was a park lined with little pop-up kiosks with hot chocolate, sweets, little holiday goodies, and an obscene amount of knitted blankets (it was a clever marketing tactic, Y/N thought -- everyone is more willing to spend money on a blanket when they’re freezing cold - she and Harry had certainly fallen for it today). Y/N bought them shoe warmers to keep their toes at least not numb, and Harry lets her borrow a pair of his gloves because she keeps forgetting to buy some of her own. They both have hats fitted over their heads too, and since Harry’s let his hair grow out, his curls stick out from beneath the pumpkin orange print and Y/N can’t stop staring at it. She’s always loved his hair, she told him as much one of the first nights they’d sat on her bookstore’s floor and talked about just a bit of everything. Back when she barely realized she had a crush on him. . . .when she didn’t know that in just a little time, she would be over the moon.

And she’ll never forget that people used to make him feel like shit about his hair, so she maybe overcompensates by telling him every time she has thought about loving it. Which means today, in the span of a short three hours they’d been awake, Y/N had complimented his hair about twenty different times. If she was running her fingers through it, fixing his beanie, or just staring at him, she let him know just how much she adored his curls.

“I hate to tell you this, Button, but your cheeks are already red as apples,” she shifted the paper cup of hot chocolate from her hand closest to him to the other, so she could reach up and tuck them behind his ear, that had reddened from the cold, “The air has you more bashful than I ever could.”

“Not true,” he murmurs, lowering his voice as he knocks closer to her ear, “I always blush when you go down on me.”

“God,” Y/N shakes her head, “You’re too much, d’ya know that?”

He laughs, nudging her with the cold tip of his nose, “You want the peppermint bark? We’re coming up on the seller.”

“Of course, I want peppermint bark,” she reaches for her wallet, “I’m stocking us up for the next hundred years or so.”

Harry slows for a moment, sliding his gloved hand into her own and squeezing, “Hey,” he begins, his voice soft, somewhat reflective and it brings her attention to him at her side, “Y’know when -- you remember how you said you just get random flushes of love for me and s’a whole lot and you just don’t know what to do with it?”

Y/N nods, “Yeah, like every waking minute practically. Why?”

He smiles shyly, “I’m having one of those moments.”

“For the peppermint bark?” She teases, but his brows furrow and he swats her shoulder playfully, “Hey!”

“I’m trying to be sweet on you, and you’re still going on about this bloody chocolate,” he rubs the arm that he swats, even though Y/N has so many layers on plus the blanket that she bought wrapped around her, that he made no real contact with her body.

Y/N pulls him in for a hug, narrowly avoiding a child running past them as she does so, “Oh, you know m’only kidding. I love you too, Bug, more than words can describe and ten times more than the chocolate I reckon. . .well, unless it’s made really well this year.”

“I’ll leave you here, blanket hog.”

#blurbs #Anonymous

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whalesfallmoved · 4 years ago

Text

hand over wound

round two.

chargestep, rated t. 1.9k.

a brief, helpless attempt at ortega’s point of view. the shameless flirty banter and back and forth of pre-heartbreak ricardo, whose main goal is being an absolute menace to society- population, sidestep. horribly self-indulgent in every way, but she lets herself get helped in this one, so what can I say.

ao3 link.

—

She’s got a hard grip and a bite sharp as her bark, and when you finally get her to put her hand in yours it’s not without the same sensation of coaxing a street cat out of hiding, flinching at the first sudden movement.

Not this time, though. This time, she lets you catch her wrist, lets you turn it over, and— oh boy— this is the most skin you’ve ever seen, sleeve pushed up almost to her elbow, wrists on display, never would’ve thought they’d look this dainty, crisscrossed as they are by scar tissue and branching blue veins and solid as birdbone.

She squeezes that small, angry little fist in your hand and the tendons flex, the knuckles split raw and furious, scabs already coagulating where the damage runs reddest. Her trophies for that blitz quick punch she packs, armorless and fast (but not as fast— not as fast as you— lightning striking twice.)

Fidgeting, antsy, she kicks her feet against your chair, knock-knock-knock, squeezing her mask in her other pink, exposed fist. Jittery, and you bite back something wry and flustering, something that’ll earn you a freeze and an idiot and a blush and oh, you love that even more, how you can watch it bloom freely now, worth the wait and the coaxing to get her to finally tug Sidestep off the rest of the way, leave just Noa and her big, big eyes (deep brown as a hound’s and you weren’t expecting that, for her to be so warm underneath the hard, cold turquoise) and how she desperately needs the mask, they’d never be scared of her otherwise—and with your other hand you loosen her curled fingers free.

Toss her a grin, tap her leg with yours, pretend you aren’t surprised by how soft her skin is when it’s not covered in skinsuit and blood, the way it’s never seen the Los Diablos sun—at least, not long enough to match the freckles on her doughy cheeks (freckles down her shoulder? her back?) Layers and layers and here she is, in your apartment, hand in hand, and fuck, you can say something about that too. Something about that kiss something about— later.

“So, I was thinking.”

“Wow. Did you hurt yourself?” Reflex, but she straightens up, watches, waits, and you like that too— the way she can’t hear, the way she has to ask.

“A little, yeah,” medkits and rags and clean water, you dab at the cuts and earn yourself a hiss.

“Out of practice, huh?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You wink and that gets you a scowl, a twist of her mouth, and you’re pretty sure if you weren’t you you’d get her teeth, too. Not even Themmy would get away with that, much as she likes them, they can’t cross the hard line of her last name yet, and you’ve earned smug, you think, you grin, you drag the antiseptic across her knuckles while she’s still glaring and pink at the ears—her hand jerks in yours and you squeeze tighter, gentle. “I was thinking about your suit.”

“Trying to give some fashion advice? Pass.”

“First of all, if anyone here’s in desperate need of it—”

“Jesus fucking Christ, not this again.”

“Don’t get me wrong, you make the unwashed seventeen year old boy look work for you, somehow—”

“Asshole.”

“Sorry, would you prefer sexily disheveled?”

“You— shut up,” there it is, her averting gaze, her grooving brow, her pretty cheeks— ow, fuck— her foot ramming into your calf. “You are such a dick.”

“You love it,” wink, sly grin, she glares harder but doesn’t argue, you’ve got her there and you both know it. “And that wasn’t what I was going to say.”

The split cuts are worse than you thought, wounds wiped clean revealing the deep and the raw all laden on top of each other, opened again and again, her smarting palms scratched and torn, not so different from yours when you try hard enough but it’s different (because it’s her?) and fuck, how long has she been doing this?

Still can’t win her over with the blue and the white and big capital R and the promise of solid health benefits. Too bad. Can’t blame her though, even if it makes your job twice as hard to let her into the systems, to let her put her darting fingers all over the Rangers’ files, to let her anywhere near the missions you need her most.

“Well?”

Look up, and she’s watching and waiting still, and you must’ve gone quiet for a moment, turning her knuckles over.

“Your suit’s crap.” Homemade and spliced together, practically sportswear these days, riddled with seams and stitches she’s mended. Not bad for a third-rate vigilante, but that’s not her, not Sidestep, not your—

Not your anything, and she’d eat you alive if she ever caught the tail-end of a thought like that. But she’s going to get herself hurt all the same. More hurt than usual.

“It’s just lightweight. Yours isn’t any different.”

“Mine’s definitely different,” fresh white bandages over red, swollen bruises. You wind them around once, twice, taking care. “The material’s outdated. Where’d you get it, anyway?”

“None of your business,” she snaps, and you half expect her to rip away, pleasantly surprised when she doesn’t. “And it’s not like I can just hit Uncle Sam up for some brand new state of the art gear.”

“I mean, you could.”

“Don’t.”

“I think you’d look good in blue.”

“Ugh.”

“Just think about it. You. Me. Matching uniforms. We could get you a little lightning bolt, right here,” hand over your heart and she’s definitely going to hit you for that one. “I don’t mind sharing the brand with you.”

“Go die in a hole.”

“Ask nicely.”

“Please go die in a hole.”

“Will you join me?”

“Fuck no. I’m putting you there myself. Can’t stand your ass.”

“Good thing you’re sitting down then. Also, thinking about my ass, hmm? Good to know.”

“Ugh.”

“Bad time to ask about what other sounds your mouth can make?”

“Try it and I’ll feed you your own eyeballs.”

“Ohh, promises, promises.”

She wants to laugh, catching it quick between her teeth, a soft indent in her softer cheeks, and if you try a little harder you might be able to shake that grin from her, earn yourself a glimmer in her dark, dark eyes—and she’s running out of bark, out of bite, so the first round goes to you as you set her fist down, wrapped, clean and new in bandages that won’t last the next fight.

You reach for the other and she goes willingly, fingertips settling butterfly-light on you, her thumb to the heel of your hand, scars and nicks aligned. There’s something about it, about the skin, about the colder palm that rests quietly in yours, the mods sticking to your bones, and— yes, you like this the most; the way she lets you touch her, even if it’s just this, one kiss in the aftermath of violence and her wrists on display.

She breaks the silence not with a laugh or a sigh but a shake of her head, a suspicious cant of her eyes to yours, then away; blushed, accepting defeat. You smile, wash her wounds again with the slow repetition of old, small ritual and she knocks her ankle against yours, knee to knee.

“You’re a deeply troubled and troubling man, Ricardo Ortega.” She finally says, low and almost sweet, and there it is; a dimple beside her mouth, unwillingly surrendered, and the sight unfurls something achy and bruise-deep in your chest.

And the truth is, you can’t help yourself. “I love the way you say my name.”

“I swear—” a gasp, an exhale, her bandaged hand meeting her forehead, fissuring that barbed facade of sneers and razor-edged tongues. “You’re so fucking weird. Can’t you just take an insult like a normal person?”

“Oh, those were insults? But they sounded so sweet coming from you.” You reach for the bandages again. Repeat. Gauzy, featherlight loops around her flinching knuckles.

“God��”

“No need for that. Ricardo works just fine.”

“How about idiot?” And oh, you’ve got her soft, how’d you manage that? She’s red from her ears down her neck, flush disappearing beneath the black nanomesh, and you wait for her to smack your knee or bring a little teeth but all she does is squeeze your hand, nose scrunched jaw dimpled, melting, and your heart’s tattooing itself to the ribs—maybe you can get her to let you kiss her again, just to see what her lips feel like when they’re not red-slick with iron and sweat and fear. They were softer than you thought. Desperate, too. Almost as desperate as you, and fear’s a thrill a rush a jump but when you thought she’d ended up mashed on the pavement it—

“Only for you.” A tease or a confession and the most honest lie to cross your lips, you tuck the gauze but keep her hand, and she lets you, thumbs over the boundary line of your wrist. Strange. Almost intimate.

She pulls back just enough to trade places, snaring your hand between her own wounded ones, running circles around the emitter, fearless, unflinching, trusting, waiting. Always waiting and never staying long enough for an answer, like you could give her a straight one either way, like you even know what it is beyond aches and bruises and the pained gasp pressed to your lips when you pried her loose and held her tight, Psychopather gone on the ground, victory in the shape of her mouth.

Still, a skip runs down your spine as she massages down, down into the calloused meat of your hand, not even jumping at the kick of electricity, spiteful as blanket static.

“What, nothing stupid about kissing it better?” She mutters—disappointed?—and of course, how could you miss that chance—but she’s always been better about the plans, a thousand little ways to sidestep dancing around in that lovely skull of hers when all you want to do is charge right in, and as she pulls away you pull back, catch her gauzy, angry fists in your open palm.

She waits. Waits to see what you’ll do.

You watch, hold your breath, the biting grin gone now, mask shucked loose for a moment when she looks like that, soft and vulnerable in the white-gold light of your kitchen, and she could pull away if she wants, or careen forward, turn it into a punch, into a throttle.

But she doesn’t.

Her eyes really are pretty, warm brown like the slow burn of whiskey down your throat, and you keep them as you draw her hands up, bring those softened knuckles to your lips, feel the first twitches of a smile that you press lightly against her and— kissing—

And she raps the back of her fingers against your cheek, barely more than a tap, a reprimand and hey—! She jerks away, stands up, darts from your grasp, gone again. Moved too fast. You sigh, catch yourself, remember to smile.

“Idiot.” She scoffs, grabs her mask off the table, ducks her head like she’s expecting that soft hair to make a curtain, a shield, but it’s twisted back at the nape and you chuckle, lean back, because it looks like round two is yours again, and you want— you want—

She’s on the other side of the kitchen, working that mask back, turned away, and you don’t ask her to stay, you already know the answer, but fuck if you don’t love to watch her leave, if you can’t wait for round three.

#chargestep #ricardo ortega #sidestep #fallen hero #mywriting #shameless 'tenderness is stored in the hands' propaganda here #these idiots- desperately in love and not a thought between them #definitely used this mostly as an excuse to play with banter and the lighthearted almost flirting of two clowns that think fighting #definitely counts as a love language #(this is as tender as they get- at least for now. the idiots. <3)#hand over wound*

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harveywritings92 · 4 years ago

Text

Dante x reader soulmate AU

[ The first honest/sincere words your soulmate wants are tattooed to you body. ]

Yours: Hey fuckface! let see how funny it is when I shove my foot up yer ass!

Dante’s: Please help, they stole my bikini top.

-Hey fuckface! let see how funny it is when I shove my foot up yer ass!- You grimaced eyeing that tattoo it has been a double edge sword ever since it appeared on her fifteenth birthday, some people assumed your Soulmate was abusive while others assured you he was probably defending you...

But none could prepare you for your uber religious mom catching wind of it, it was an accident you walked in from school and she saw something black peeking out under your sleeve.

"YFN what on God's green earth is that?!" she demanded yanking your arm towards her and pulled your sleeve up, let's just sat say if your mom was close to having a stroke that would've been the day! her eyes narrowed at you venomously as gripped your arm tightly.

"You go upstairs right now and wash this filth off your arm this instant!" you tried to tell her you can't but she would interrupt you. "How dare you go behind my back deface your skin with the devil's tongue! your skin is for your soulmark and nothing else, now go!" she barked pointing up the stairs.

You just stared her for a good hard second before saying. "But mom, this is my soulmark." Oh how you wished you had a camera for the look on your mother's face; her lips pursed and her jaw muscles started twitching it almost looked like she'd just ate a lemon dipped in sour milk, your dad who knew about the vulgarity of your mark, awkwardly ushered you away while he tried to calm your mother down.

Life went on...

Most of your friends met their soulmates in high school or college, You didn't meet your soulmate until your [late 20s-mid 30s] you had moved from Redgrave to the neibouring city and after spending the first couple days lifting and unpacking things you decided to take a break and go to the beach while on the way you noted when you told your landlord where you were headed they'd give you a worried look and tell you to be careful.

You kept that in mind as you made to the beach noting there weren't a lot of people and the few there were in groups and just enjoying the last heat of summer before Fall came knocking at the door, You hummed watching the ocean, after setting up your towel and put on some sunscreen and listen to and audio book on your phone...

Half way through your book you felt something crawl on your back thinking it was bug you swatted at it, then it happed again... this time You looked away from your phone; just in time to see some guy crouched behind you with something in his hand! startled you jumped away in shock and off went your bikini top that thing in his hand was your top's string.

you didn't scream instead you made a grab for your towel only for the man get his hands on that too and ran! You were pissed and about to follow but then you noticed he wasn't alone.. You could see what looked like three other men trying to hided behind the rocks as your bikini thief waved your stuff in the air mocking and laughing at you with a dark almost predatory look in his eyes...

Not knowing what to do, you looked around for help but most of the people you saw earlier were either gone or had move farther way, that was until you saw a scruffy well fit looking guy with white hair tied back in a ponytail in black swim trunks and a red sleeveless hoodie; walking along the shore eating a popsicle, You hesitated at first. but looking at your options, you decided his help was better then no help.

Springing to your feet you ran over to the man in red with your marked arm covering your chest, and reach out giving his hoodie a tug the white haired man turned around looked at you. *oh fuck me, he's gorgeous!* your inner voice cried.

the man eyed you with mild amusement before noticing shaken up you were. "You alright Doll?" he asked concerned you shook your head wanting to die right there feeling tears well in your eyes, as you pointed to where the man was still stupidly waving your top around, probably annoyed why you weren't coming after him.

"Please help, they stole my bikini top." The man looked at you funny his jaw went slack causing his popsicle to fall out of his mouth and onto sand before your tiny sobs snapped out of his trance; looking at where you were pointing his eyes darkened dangerously.

"Put this on." He hissed giving you his hoodie, You saw the name Dante written on the tag inside before puling it on just in time to see "Dante" making his way towards the thief who was laughing before he got a good look at the figure headed towards him and realized it wasn't you.

"Hey fuckface! let see how funny it is when shove my foot up yer ass!" Dante snarled you stared the tattoo on your arm then at the white haired man in shock. Now understanding why he looked at you oddly, the thief dropped your stuff and tried to book it his friends were long gone, but Dante caught him and decided to give him a taste of his own medicine!

He yanked the guy trunks off and tore them to shreds, leaving the guy standing there in naked in public, you started laughing as you watched Dante towel whip the humiliated thief causing the creep to run down to beach causing people to take pictures or yell for the beach police.

When the creep was out of sight, the man you presumed to be your soulmate calmly walked up with your top and towel in hand, it was then you noticed the words on his right bicep, and felt embarrassed once more, but for Dante, here you thought your tattoo was cringy. "Here ya go babe." Dante held out your towel and top. "Thank you." you squeaked taking them him.

"Yer welcome Darling I'm Dante by the way."

"I know."

"Do you now, I guess my rep still precedes me, eh?"

"Actually... Your name is written in your hoodie."

"Oh...Right." He chuckled nervously you faintly saw blush appear on his cheeks as he awkwardly scratched his jaw, then regained his composure. "I'm Y/n and I have feeling we're gonna be seeing a lot of each other." Dante threw an arm over her shoulder "Damn straight we are." the white haired man agreed as the two soulmates started walking down the beach talking.

#Devilmaycry #devil may cry fanfiction #reader insert #soulmate au #dante x reader #Dante Sparda

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mirkwoodshewolf · 4 years ago

Text

Guardian of Creatures; AU! Queen x oc female x reader Chap. 13

*Author’s note*

Well been awhile since I did an update for this series but here I am with another update! This time we’re gonna turn back the clock and find out what happened to our gang of mistfits when Serafina left them. So as I told you all before, Oded Fehr plays an allied wizard for John and Serafina, but now we get introduced to a new THREAT to our heroes. So I hope you all enjoy this chapter and until next time :)

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@simonedk

@queen-paladin

@queensdivas

@queendeakyy

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@glitter-at-the-panic

@kinole009x

@geek-and-proud

@wormzteef

_________________________________________________________

Chapter 13,

The Ambush

*2nd Person POV. The morning after Serafina leaves*

The next morning you awoke to the desert sun shining in your tent.

“What do you mean she’s gone!?” you hear John’s voice snap with anger. You peek out of your tent to see the boys all standing around under the desert sun but Serafina was nowhere to be seen. John stood in front of Freddie, his hands fuming with his purple magic while his sons Seraffel and Thor stood behind their father, the same look of anger across their faces.

“I’m saying what is true. She’s gone on her own path.”

“What is it with you fucking Nagas and your riddle talk!? Where exactly did our mom go!? And I swear to god if you don’t start making any sense I’ll freeze you so bad you won’t start to thaw till the next Ice Age!” Seraffel warned.

“Always barking but never biting. Really Seraffel you’ve threatened me thousands of times since your hatching and you’ve yet to hold up to that threat. No matter how old you were.” Freddie spoke nonchalantly, like he didn’t even care for the ice dragon’s threat. You walk up to Brian and ask him.

“What’s going on here?”

“It would appear that Serafina has gone off on her own somewhere. John and Serafina have rarely been apart from one another, the longest I’ve seen them be apart is when Roger and I were first sent by Freddie to save them.”

“Freddie please just—just tell us where our mom’s at? She could get captured or-or killed!” Thor pleaded.

“Your mother can handle herself. Right now she needs to go on this path on her own.”

“Fred normally I would agree on with what you say but this is no time for a pissing contest! Grindelwald knew we were in New York, who’s to say that the rest of his family or even his spies could be out here looking for us right now!? What if her power alone is not enough?” Roger said as he paced back and forth with worry.

“For someone who claims to care for her you seriously underestimate her Roger dear.” Roger halted in his spot to stare at the Naga. “Serafina’s path lies on a different path than ours for the moment. This part of her journey will come to pass with what we need for the final phase of ending Grindelwald’s followers once and for all. Now will the four of you get your heads out of your arses and understand Serafina is more than capable of taking care of herself and isn’t some fragile little maiden that always needs protecting!”

Freddie’s eyes glowed a fearsome yellow and his voice grew deeper and more snake like.

“Now then, we should reach the Medjai coven by the sun’s highest point if we leave now. Burn the tents and get rid of any evidence of our trail here.” Freddie slithered onward.

As the boys went on with Freddie’s orders, you then ask Brian once more.

“Will she be okay?”

“Serafina is unlike any other witch I’ve met before. Elf or otherwise. She has power unlike anything I’ve ever seen. If I had to say who I should be more worried for, I’d say it’s whatever poor unfortunate soul crosses her path.”

Once the site was cleared up of any of your traces, you continued onward to the Medjai covenant. It felt like an eternity had passed until finally as you all came up over a hill and just down below, several village stood there in the middle of the desert.

“We’ve arrived.” John spoke as he urged his black stallion onward. You followed behind him, then his sons, Brian and Freddie, while Roger flanked in the rear.

As you all approached the entrance into the village, several men in black garb with most of their faces covered, held up their wands towards you guys ready to strike.

“Waqaf!” one of the guards spoke up. Your horse whinnied and reared on it’s hind legs. You held onto the reins as tight as you could as you tried to calm your horse down.

“Whoa, whoa boy whoa easy!” you tell your horse. John’s horse nickered and anxiously paced forward and back.

“We’re not spies! We’re friends with your covenant leader Ardeth Bay. My name is John Deacon and these creatures are my friends.” The guards looked at one another suspiciously when a stern but warm voice proclaimed.

“Let them pass!” soon riding on top of a camel was an Egyptian man with long black hair, two Arabic tattoos on each cheek and one across his forehead, and chocolate brown eyes. He sported a mix of a goatee and beard which went well along his strong jawline.

He was a big man on the muscular side, probably standing at around 6ft, maybe a couple inches. But it was the way he just seem to carry himself that made it seem like he was a true leader, a chieftain maybe.

“This man is under my protection. Anyone who tries to even lay a curse upon him shall face immediate exile, do I make myself clear?” the way his voice commanded these guards, it just made goosebumps come across your arms. The guards put their wands away and bowed with their left feet forward and their right arms crossed over their chests, hands going right over their hearts.

He then turned to John and soon his camel and John’s stallion stood face to face of each other.

“Welcome back my friend, it’s been a long time.”

“I wish the circumstances could be better Ardeth.”

“Well, it is most definitely an upgrade from being lost in the desert for days on end without water and hardly any food.” John chuckled embarrassingly but then the two men clasped hands with each other in a firm handshake.

Then they taking back their hands, kissing the side of their index fingers and placing it on their foreheads before placing their hand before their lips once again (must be an Arabic greeting).

“You and your friends have had a long journey not only from your last hideout but also across the desert. Come, satisfy your hungry and quench your thirst. And for two of your companions, regain their energy.” Ardeth said the last part as he looked to Roger and Seraffel who both looked practically exhausted.

“Thank you Ardeth. We appreciate you giving us a place to rest and regroup.” John thanked him. Ardeth bowed his head before urging his camel forward. You all follow behind the leader of the Medjai sorcerers and as you enter the village, you can see hundreds of Arabic witches, wizards and young children running about going about their day.

Some were selling robes, others had potions and spell books for sale, animals were also being sold at what almost looked like a petting zoo setup but it also had dogs, cats and falcons in their cages. Horses and camels were also on sale at the shop, each wearing a price board around their necks as they went about either pacing around the fence, drinking their water, or eating the food provided for them.

This entire marketplace was just a buzz with people. As you passed by, some of the Medjai wizards and witches looked at you and your friends. Some were in awe, others were skeptical, and the rest held respect as they bowed their heads to you and the others.

Soon you arrived at a large tent. It seemed a pretty good decent size (maybe about 8ft long and 13ft. wide) for all of you to fit inside. The front flaps were a stripped pattern of cream and, at least to you, an earthy kinda brownish-red. The rest of the tent was an earthy tone of dark green and brown stripped pattern.

You all unmounted off your rides and Ardeth walked up to the tent and opened it up for you all.

“Enter my friends, eat and make yourselves at home.” John bent down to take his shoes off before entering inside the tent. Brian did the same thing and gave Ardeth an Elvish thank you by placing his hand over his heart and bowing his head. Ardeth did the same motion and Brian entered inside.

Roger, Thor and Seraffel, then Freddie followed behind after Brian. You undid the last of your laces on your shoes and set them down beside the rest of the shoes that aligned the tent.

“You are the human savior the Naga Freddie has foreseen, aren’t you?” he said to you.

“Well—I don’t think I’d go so far as to say that. I mean yeah I did save John and Serafina’s sons from being imprisoned for all eternity but—other than that I’m not really all that special.”

“I disagree. You have a strong powerful aura within you. You may not yet realize it but it’s in there.” His strong, calloused hand gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze of reassurance. “Every creature on this earth whether mortal or mythical has that power. It’s only up to those brave enough to seek it out. Not all heroes are of just one image.”

He walked back over to the flap of the tent and opened it up for you to walk inside. You enter in and soon Ardeth follows right behind you.

Whoa! This tent was bigger on the inside! Various and beautiful kaleidoscope-like patterned quilts hung along the walls of the tent. There was a pool at the center of the tent and that’s where you saw both Seraffel and Roger, half naked, in the pool rehydrating themselves after being under the hot African sun for the past couple of days.

Thor was just drying off his wet hair (probably just getting out of the pool himself) wearing a white Arabic tunic. Freddie was curled up under the shade fast asleep, while Brian and John were conversing quietly to themselves.

“Hey (n/n) get in the water’s amazing!” Seraffel called out to you.

“It was amazing till you nearly froze it over yah overgrown icicle!” Roger snapped.

“Oh whatever you’re made out of water yourself you’re fine.” Seraffel waved off nonchalantly. You shook your head at seeing those two argue pettily.

“Maybe later guys.” You gave them an answer.

“I apologize for what happened with my guards out front. We’ve been needing to increase security for our coven.” Ardeth said as he went over to the kitchen to make some drinks for us.

“We understand Ardeth. My grandfather—is resilient.” John spoke lowly.

“He is. Unfortunately, it was not your grandfather or his followers that I was referring to.” At hearing this, most of you all look up at the leader of the Medjai sorcerers confused.

“What—do you mean then?” questioned Thor.

“It would seem Grindelwald has finally convinced an even greater foe to side with him.”

“Who?” you ask.

“The Shadow Sorcerers.” At hearing that name, everyone in the room went frigid with fear. Even Freddie’s eyes had opened at hearing their name.

“Who are the Shadow Sorcerers?” you ask.

“A separate branch of one of the most powerful and most dangerous wizards and witches. They branched off during the time of Thomas Deacon, they viewed his radical thinking of submitting themselves under the Sorcerer Supreme’s rule unlawful. So they branched off, became their own branch of sorcerers.” Freddie first explained before John joined in.

“Once my grandfather became Sorcerer Supreme, he tried to sway the Shadow wizards not as pawns, but an ally. A secondhand ally you may call it. Some of the Shadow covens agreed and allowed some of their students to transfer into our school. To study our way of magic. But they made for certain that they would never submit themselves under the rule of the Sorcerer Supreme. At least not without something to gain from it.”

“They value their pride more than anything else in the world. But it would seem some of the Shadow covens have decided to go fully under Grindelwald’s thumb. Their source of magic comes from the most ancient and most darkest of all magic. Using their very own shadows as an extension of themselves in order to take down any enemy.” Ardeth said.

“The Shadow coven takes their inspiration of their magic based on the animals that you humans refer to as Nocturnal animals. Even basing each specific family off the Latin name of said animal. I’ve even seen the Shadow Sorcerers even control other beings to their will by using their own shadows against them. A few of my people before the massacre learned that the hard way.” Freddie said.

“How many Shadow sorcerer covens are there?” asked Thor.

“There are 10 main covens of Shadow Sorcerers, and then depending on the Nocturnal animal they are inspired to emulate, the covens get subdivided into classes based off the species. The covens with the most subclass are the Felines, Rodents, and Mammalia clans.” John answered his youngest son.

“So that means we’re screwed.” Seraffel exclaimed angrily.

“Not necessarily my young ice dragon.” Ardeth added. “I said that some of the covens have joined Grindelwald. You see there are some that have remained either undecisive or wish to remain neutral. But I’m afraid the ones that did join along with Grindelwald, are one of the most strongest Shadow Sorcerers of all.”

“Which coven classes joined alongside him?” Brian asked. Ardeth sighed and said.

“I—truthfully do not know the exact number. But the one that has been skulking around here lately come from the Corvus clan.” You noticed John clenching his hand into a fist and even saw it tremble.

“So what do we do now?” asked Seraffel.

“Right now my friends you rest. And I strictly ask that you do not leave this tent as the sun sets. The shadow wizards tend to do their hunting at night. And whatever you do; Never. Turn on. The lights.” With that, Ardeth left you guys alone to your thoughts.

“Damn. Siding with the Shadow Sorcerers. Grindelwald must be getting desperate if he wanted to ask for their help.” Roger said.

“Does Grindelwald fear the Shadow Sorcerers?”

“To an extent. My grandfather is many things, a coward is definitely not one of them. But he is aware of who is powerful than even him. He must’ve sueded them to a deal that not even they could refuse.” John said. He lowered his head down to his hands and run his fingers through his hair anxiously. “I just hope and pray to Merlin that Serafina’s at least not in Egypt anymore. Or at least nowhere where a Shadow wizard could be.”

“She’ll be fine John. She’s stronger than you realize.” Brian comforted the anxious young wizard.

For the rest of the day, you all rested and pretty much stayed inside the tent because after traveling the desert for 2 days none of you even thought about wanting to go back outside.

When the sky became dark, it was as Ardeth said, no lanterns or lights were coming on in the camp. Not even lights from the tents or houses nearby were up.

“Man, Ardeth wasn’t kidding. Not a single Medjai has their lights on.” You said as you came back into the tent.

“Then we must do the same.” Brian said. He went up to one of the lanterns and turned off the flame candle inside. Roger did the same to his side of the room, and on and on until finally the entire tent was nothing but pitch black.

You adjusted yourself on the soft red velvet couch (well it felt more like a bed with how big it was).

“Goodnight everyone.” You say. They all reply with a goodnight and soon you all fall into a silent sleep.

‘(Y/n).’ a ghostly whisper calls out to you. You moan and try to go back to sleep but the voice calls out to you again. ‘(Y/n)~’ the soft gentle coo of this man’s voice reminded you a lot of your grandfather. The grandfather you lost back in the War.

He had moved to a small town of Leuven in Belgium after remarrying a woman named Pamela Janssens. She was nice and she really helped your grandfather out of his depression when your grandma died of a heart attack. He enjoyed the Belgium countryside and the people were nice to him even from being from America.

But when the German troops invaded Leuven, you were told by your mother (who was the daughter of your grandfather) that he had been shot and killed by a German soldier and Pamela had been raped before being brutally murdered and then their house was burned to the ground.

Your granddad was like a superhero to you. Even in his old age, he never let anything bring him down. That’s why he was able to still pick you up even as you became a teenager. When you received word of his death from Pamela’s sister, it crushed your entire world.

‘(Y/n)~’ the voice called to you again. No it—it couldn’t be him. There’s no way.

“Granddad?” you whisper as you sit up.

‘It’s me.’ You gasp and quickly hop off the couch. ‘I’m here.’ The voice called out again. You peek outside of the tent but it’s nothing but pitch black outside. The crescent shape moon hardly gave off any light but it was then a small blue flame stood before you. It danced and you swore that it had eyes staring up at you.

A trail of them soon popped out, leading away from the village. Something in your gut didn’t seem right but there was a magical force that was just beckoning you to go forward.

‘Hummingbird. It’s me.’ No way…..it—it was him. Only one person ever called you hummingbird and that was your grandfather. You then find yourself walking out of the tent and followed the trail of blue flames, each one of them disappearing as you walked through them.

*3rd Person POV*

Freddie’s eyes snapped open as he looked up in time just to see (Y/n) leaving the tent.

“Roger! Roger!” Freddie hissed quietly. Roger groaned and turned his back on Freddie, burying himself under his pillow. “Thor! Seraffel!” the dragons only kept snoring softly, well Thor was. Seraffel was mumbling incoherently in his sleep.

Rolling his eyes, Freddie decided it was up to him to get their human savior back. He peeked his head out of the tent, his tongue sticking out to taste the air, hoping to get a scent of where they had gone.

He left the tent and soon spotted some fresh footprints leading away from the village.

“Damnit!” he slithered forward following the footprints as fast as he could, hoping it wasn’t too late.

A few feet from the village, he soon heard the sound of wings flapping. Quickly finding a rocky ledge to hide under, he soon saw 4 figures land down a few yards away from him and soon the figures of 4 men in black robes stood there.

However one of them kept out his black feather wings out and he spoke to the three men.

“With them separated it’ll be easier to take them down. But leave them alive—for now.” The three wizards soon took off on foot now to find (Y/n). Each going a different direction in hopes of ambushing them.

Freddie kept his eyes on the leader who merely just stood there, scouring the entire desert sand. There was something off about this Shadow sorcerer just standing there, he had to be plotting something.

Suddenly out of nowhere Freddie felt three steel blades being shot into his back. He arched himself but as he turned around he was caught by surprise as the figure of the leader fired some type of gas at him, all the awhile saying BOO!

Freddie swatted the air but it was too late. His vision soon started flashing back to the day his entire race was killed.

“Aww, having trouble?” the leader’s voice (sounding thunderous, haunting, almost demonic). Freddie saw the leader’s eyes glowing the same haunting blue as Thomas Riddle Deacon’s eyes. The very same cold blue eyes that stared back at him as he slaughtered each and every Naga. “Watch the stars, have a drink!”

Freddie began thrashing around trying to get rid of this horrifying memory but all he kept seeing was blood spurting, the flash of green light, and the agonizing screams of his family. He soon felt some sort of liquid being dumped onto him as the Shadow Sorcerer continued to taunt him.

“You look like a snake who takes himself too seriously.” His palm soon sparked out a blue fireball and as Freddie finally went calm for a split second to look up at the wizard, he told Freddie. “You want my opinion? You need to lighten up.” He threw the blue fireball at Freddie and soon he was being burned alive.

The leader soon disappeared into the shadows as Freddie screamed in pure agony. The blue flames eating away at his coils like a hot grinder slowly and torturously burning away every inch of his skin. Somehow he managed to send a telepathic cry for help to John who immediately woke up.

“Freddie!” John shot up exclaiming which soon woke everyone up. Brian’s elvish hearing soon heard Freddie’s torturous screaming.

“Come on!” everyone soon left the tent and raced to help the Naga. Suddenly all the lights in their tent came on and the shadows soon came alive.

Razor sharp teeth and red eyes surrounded them as they now felt themselves being bound by the shadows. John tried to break free but he soon heard the very same thing happening to the tent next to them. And the home after that, until the entire Medjai was either screaming in terror or with their last dying breath.

“Hello John, remember me?” soon entering the tent with Ardeth also trapped within his grasp was a lean stature man with short black hair, ice blue eyes, a strong jawline and skin as pale as the moon. He looked to be about his mid-30’s possibly even 40s. But it was his voice.

His voice that was soft and lulling like a lullaby, but it held an icy, haunting tone to it as well.

“Jonathan Corvus.” He smirked.

“It really has been too long. How’s little Fina been?” John snarled softly but soon let out a groan as he felt himself being squeezed tighter by Johnathan’s magic. “And you know, it is very surprising to not see her here with you. I mean back at school you guys were—heh stuck together like glue.”

“Dad, you actually know this son of a bitch?” Seraffel asked.

“Now that is quite rude. Didn’t your parents ever teach you manners?” A shadow spear shot out and struck Seraffel in his thigh. He let out a painful scream.

“Seraffel!” Thor screamed. Seraffel groaned and growled in pain.

“Dragons always were quite brutish for my taste. But I guess that’s why you and sweet, sweet Fina adopted these monsters. Freaks till the end.” The shadow spear slowly went deeper into Seraffel’s thigh. The blood now starting to ooze further down his pant leg, he threw back his head trying to hold in his agonizing screams.

“What do you want from us Corvus!?” John demanded.

“Well truthfully we were ordered to take you and your little band of monsters to see your dear old grandfather but it seems we’re one short. So—you’re coming with us till you tell us where Serafina Black is.”

The last thing any of them ever saw was pure darkness as the shadows wrapped around them till they couldn’t breathe.

*2nd Person POV*

You kept following your grandfather’s voice until you came out towards the Nile River. Whatever light from the moon directed itself into the water, almost giving it a crystal like glow to it. Panting after running so hard you couldn’t hear your grandfather’s voice anymore.

“Granddad?” you called out. “Granddad!” again nothing but silence. Suddenly something whooshed behind you. “G-Granddad?” soon a figure appears out of thin air. He had a black hooded cloak covering himself from whatever light there was and he just stood there silently for what felt like eternity. His hands slowly came up and you were frozen with fear at just who was now standing a few feet away from you.

John’s grandfather, Grindelwald Deacon.

You quickly take out John’s wand from your hip and aim it at him. Even though your hands and legs were trembling with fear you tried to stay strong.

“You stay right there! I know who you are!”

“(Y/n) (L/n). I am not here to hurt you.” His soft whisper of a voice said to you. Hearing him speak in the flashback was one thing but now that he was actually standing here before you it—it made you feel……cold. “I only want to help.”

“Help me?!” you snapped quietly.

“Yes.” He told you. “You are so very, very far away from home. Far away from everything that you know, far from those that you love.” You thought back to your family. You hadn’t even really been keeping them updated on everything since you took the job in trying to discover John and Serafina’s secret club.

No, no he’s manipulating you! You’ve seen this before with John the night Serafina’s family was slaughtered don’t. fall. For it!

“I said don’t take another step!” you warned. But your façade was easily dropping as your hand trembled even worse. And still, he kept walking closer and closer to you.

“My child, I would never see you harmed. Unlike with what the Naga has told you.” What? What is he talking about. “Dear one, it is not your fault that your very birth was planned to go along with the Naga’s plan for vengeance. It is not your fault that you were forced into this world, if you were siding alongside me I would ensure that you were free to live your life. A world where your very existence is not meant to satisfy someone else’s gain.”

Even though you wanted to strike this man down, no matter how much rage and fear was starting to build up within you…….he was right.

Everyone so far has kept calling you the ‘Human Savior’. You didn’t ask for any of this. And why did it have to be you? Sure you might have gone along with it but now—now it was starting to feel like a game to you. That your only purpose for even existing was just to satisfy Freddie’s plan.

“I—I……” you loosened your grip on your wand. Grindelwald’s hand slowly comes up and wraps his fingers around John’s wand.

“You are an innocent. So go now. Leave this place, return to the life that you know.” With that he apparated into smoke and disappeared from your view.

You debated and debated long and hard. Yes you had come this far already but—was it really worth it? Why did it have to be you? Why couldn’t someone else take this job? Clearly John and Serafina have something to gain out of saving all these creatures as well as their entire community, why did you need to be involved?

Suddenly something pierced right through your back. Although no blood spurted out from you, you still felt like something was piercing your very soul. Your right arm suddenly shot out and twisted itself inward.

What—what was happening to you? You tried to resist but each time you did, you were forced to contort and twist about until you were pulled to your knees.

“What’s…….”

“Thought you would realize just what we were? Guess Muggles really are as stupid as they come.” Soon coming out was a strong-bulky looking man who had shadow-like tentacle arms coming out from behind him, his hands seeping out a black aura (much like John and Serafina’s magical aura).

“Shadow sorcerer.”

“Oh look it does speak.” You narrowed your eyes at the insult but your eyes were forced to go wide-eyed. “Such manners, nothing but beyond neanderthal anger. Running about like starving goblins.” You soon felt yourself being lifted up into the air, still unable to gain even the slightest ounce of control back.

“What did—you do…..with my…..friends?”

“The same thing I’m about to do to you, muggle.” In a flash, the shadows shot right towards you until you were cocooned in complete blackness.

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danceworshipper · 3 years ago

Text

Ida Sommer - HPHL MC

Info subject to change as more game information is released. All of my HPHL ocs exist in the same universe

[profile template by me]

Personal

Full Name: Ida Marie Sommer

Gender: Female (cis)

Sexuality: Pansexual (closeted)

Birthday: August 20th

Birthstone: Peridot

Zodiac Sign: Leo

Age: 14 (at beginning of game)

Blood Status: Pureblood

3 Positive Traits:

- Charming

- Spiritual (nature oriented)

- Resilient

3 Negative Traits:

- Childish

- Uncommunicative

- Vain

Usual First Impression: When first meeting Ida, people often assume she is immature, ignorant, and easy to take advantage of due to her sheltered nature and cutesy appearance. This impression is highly incorrect

Location

Birthplace: Germany (exact location TBD)

Current Home: Her father's estate in one of the richest areas (Germany)

Future Home: A beautiful cottage secluded from the world, near a mountainside (Germany)

Favorite Place: A cliff overseeing the sea in Japan, close to the little shop where she got her wand

Disliked Place: Her maternal grandparents' home, simply because she doesn't enjoy their company

Appearance

[image created using the Live Portrait Maker app]

Face Shape: Roundish jaw, soft features with a strong brow bone

Eye Color: Yellowish green

Hair Color: Light blonde

Hair Style: Ida wears her hair down or in a single braid. Her hair is mostly straight with side bangs, and is parted in the middle

Skin Tone: Light

Freckles/Spots: A few freckles on her cheeks, more visible when she's been out in the sun

Scars: None during her schooling. After graduation, Ida marks her arms with runes only she and Sebastien can make sense of to strengthen her connection to the world around her

Piercings/Tattoos: Single earlobe piercings.

Final Height: 5'9"

Final Weight: 137lbs

Physique: Thin with long legs, slightly wider than average shoulders

Clothing Style: Ida is a rich kid, so her clothing is always of high quality material and her jewelry is noticeably unflawed. She dresses modestly until she turns seventeen, when she stops caring what her parents think. Her favorite colors to wear are pastels

Carried Items:

- her wand

- a locket with a picture of her and her parents in it - not worn, but kept in her satchel

- a silver pocket watch stuck at 11:18 pm, handed to her by the same Seer who told her where to get her wand

- a handful of candy

- extra quills for her roommate who keeps forgetting hers

- a book from the Restricted Section about Elementals, written by Elementals and charmed so no one other than an Elemental can ever figure out what it says

Magic

Wand: 12 inches of firm Ebony wood with a koi-mer hair core. A pitch black, rounded wand with a pattern of scales carved into the handle. This wand was custom made in a small, almost unknown shop in Japan after a Seer she bumped into on the street told Ida that her perfect wand would be created there. It would seem foolish to go all the way from Germany to Japan on the word of an unknown Seer, but it was Ida's turn to plan the summer trip, so she picked a place in Japan close enough to the mentioned shop

Animagus: Loon

Boggart Form: A headless figure easily recognizable as herself, crumbling away into dust. A failed attempt to merge with nature resulting in her demise

Riddikulus Form: A statue of her like the one in her parents' back garden, over glorifying her features, that has been attacked and is crumbling away. She hates that statue

Amortentia (to others): Someone smelling Ida would smell lime juice, fresh water, and static electricity

Amortentia (to her): TBD

Patronus: Ida has never been able to cast a Patronus. Not for a lack of happy enough memories, but because of her powerful soul. The Patronus can never escape her magical core

Patronus Memory: N/A

Mirror of Erised: A tree so big it grows up an entire mountainside. The tree bark is covered in swirling patterns Ida recognizes as Elemental runes. She doesn't yet know what exactly this tree is, but she feels an undeniable longing for it

Family Spells: The Sommer family has no special family spells

Inherent Magic: Elemental

- Ida has all the magic of a normal witch, but on top of that has a deep connection to the earth and the magic stemming from it, even beyond the earth into the universe. If not properly trained (or if driven to a great enough temptation), an Elemental could vaporize the entire planet, or bend it to their will. They could also leave humanity behind if they so wished and become nature itself

- Elementals are theorized to have fragments of Merlin's soul fused with their own, hence why they feel strong connections to each other and can't ever fatally harm one of their own. Most Elementals also fall in love with each other as well, and the connection is thought to be stronger than a normal human's love could ever be. These connections help ensure no Elemental gives in to whichever temptation has the strongest pull on them. Only one Elemental has ever yet gone evil, and this is how it was discovered that they cannot kill one another

- This special magic is not hereditary. In fact, no one knows what causes someone to be born an Elemental, only that there have been less and less of them in the recent centuries. There are only two known Elementals left: Ida and Sebastien

Family

Mother: Lina is a warm hearted woman who wants the best for her daughter, misguided though she might be. She often has to shout at her husband to trying to hold Ida back, or discourage Ida's dreams. She noticed Ida's growing power long before her husband did, and was the one to finally contact someone for help when Ida grew so strong and uncontrolled she couldn't stop floating

Father: Elias is a business oriented man who, though he loves his daughter, up until her reveal as an Elemental wished she was a son. He's the reason Ida was homeschooled for so long, as he didn't think a girl was worth the tuition money. He refused to believe that Ida was anything other than ordinary until a man in a high position told him otherwise

Sisters: None

Brothers: None

Pets: A screech owl named Goldig, meaning 'cute'

Other Important Family: Ida's paternal aunt, Ingrid, is one of the biggest influences in her life as a child. Ingrid is an independent witch who lives fabulously by herself with her dead husband's fortune. Ida used to yearn for a future where she wasn't tied down by a man and could do as she pleased

Family Values: The Sommer family as a whole is mainly concerned with two things: remaining pureblooded, and growing richer. Most of the Sommers are decently good people, but they have period-appropriate prejudices and are willing to leave someone behind to save themselves, metaphorically and literally

Opinion on Family: Up until entering Hogwarts, Ida really only knew her family, so she loved them and thought very highly of them. As she becomes more socialized and learns more about the world, she starts to notice her parents' many flaws and though she never stopped loving them, she does resent them for homeschooling her and ignoring the signs of her being abnormal, because she used to think she was broken when in reality she's nearly a god

Friendships

Introverted or Extroverted: Extroverted

Best Friend: Sebastien Parr - another mc of mine who is also an Elemental, and an exchange student from Beauxbatons

Worst Friend: TBD

Friend She Didn't Expect: TBD

Who She Wishes Was Her Friend: TBD

List of Casual Friends:

- Sophia Burton @gcldensnitch

- Charlotte Grant @weasleysandwheezes

- canon friends TBD

Romance

Current Crush: None

Current Partner: None

Past Partners: None

Future Partners: TBD - will likely be picked from the game's characters, but could possibly be someone else's mc

Her Type: TBD

Hogwarts

House: Slytherin

Prefect Status: No

Quidditch: Never played, but loves to watch

Clubs: None

Organizations: The fake Headmaster's Apprentices organization that she and Sebastien use to hide what they're really doing

Favorite Class: Herbology

Least Favorite Class: History of Magic

Favorite Professor: TBD

Least Favorite Professor: TBD

Timeline

Young Childhood: Ida is kept at home. She knows no children her age, and spends most of her free time roaming her father's land. No matter how far she wanders, she never seems to get lost. Ida has strange dreams where she watches the world as an outsider. After being told by a Seer that her ideal wand would be created at a small shop in Japan, Ida convinces her father to spend a month there over the summer, and her mother takes her to the shop to get her wand. Ida sneaks out one night and climbs a cliff that looks out over the ocean. In later years she can't remember whether rising up over the waters and hearing the stars call to her by name was a dream or not, but she knows the moon smiled at her.

First Year: N/A

Second Year: N/A

Third Year: Ida's uncontrolled Elemental magic reaches a breaking point, and Ida explodes her little study room as she lifts up in the air, unable to come down. Her mother sends for help: two healers, a historian, and three government officials later, Ida is brought down and informed that she will be enrolled in Hogwarts the following year. She is not informed why, though her parents are

Fourth Year: Ida enters Hogwarts with no social skills. She meets Sebastien and they're both informed of their true nature. As Ida struggles to catch up on her studies as well as train her Elemental magic, she also learns just how wonderful having friends her age is

Fifth Year: TBD

Sixth Year: Ida grows suspicious of Sebastien's "friend" Dorian. Other details TBD

Seventh Year: TBD

Post Graduation: Ida marks herself with ancient Elemental runes and her father gifts her the cottage. She spends a year and a half where almost no one hears from her, before appearing back in her friends' lives as if nothing happened, looking healthier and happier than ever

Career(s): Ida doesn't live long enough to have a career

Marriage and Children: Ida marries (TBD) from school, someone who had always had a crush on her that she eventually returned the feelings for. They spend a beautiful three years together before her end. Ida manages to give her love a son, but only after she's gone

Death: Ida sacrifices herself to stop Sebastien and Dorian from destroying the world. Ida's biggest temptation as an Elemental was always to leave her humanity behind and become nature, so she does. She traps the two men inside of a ridiculously large tree that grows out of the mountainside near her cottage. This tree forms from her body, and has a notch where her favorite necklace can be inserted to be allowed entry to the chamber Sebastien and Dorian are trapped. However, she hid the necklace in Japan, where no one will find it until a century has passed and her friends have passed away. Ida can occasionally gather her spirit into a physical form to communicate with her love and child that she left behind

Notable Facts Not Previously Mentioned

- Ida is the ancestor of my main hphm mcs, Gracie and Tessa Chiva, on their father's side

- The reason Ida is sent to Hogwarts and not Durmstrang is the fear of bad influences. No one wanted to risk her being corrupted

- Ida does feel guilty about leaving her love behind, but since she couldn't kill Sebastien and she still loved him and wanted him to be happy, this was the only way she could think of to stop him

- Her love watched her leave humanity behind. As they wept, Ida's spirit gathered to say her goodbyes, and point them to their son, who had been born from Ida's final breath at exactly 11:18 pm

- Ida thinks very highly of herself. This is both from being praised so much as a child and hearing so much about the good she can do as an Elemental

- She throws a graduation party so extravagant that it's talked about for decades after her death

- No one but her love knows what truly happened to her. All anyone else knows is that she and Sebastien disappeared at the same time

#hphl oc #hogwarts legacy #ida sommer #character profile

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aelin-queen-of-terrasen · 4 years ago

Text

𝐖𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 - {𝟏}

Wicked Love: Summary + Masterlist

Full Masterlist

note: hi, so since things are grim enough, I figured we could all use some fluff. for now, I'll try to avoid posting angst much as I can.

──────✧❅✦❅✧──────

Some of the earliest memories of Aelin's childhood have Rowan Whitethorn in them. The bastard with his know-it-all attitude made her life Hell until graduation when she moved away. Her cousin's best friend has a way of winning people over despite the ever-present scowl on his face that infuriates Aelin to no end. Not to mention his determination to hate her without a reasonable explanation since the day they were introduced.

Rowan Whitethorn is the bane of her existence. "You," she sneers at him.

"Me," Rowan says, moving closer to them. He smiles at her but it looks more like a baring of teeth. "Nice to see you here, Princess." The nickname alone sets something inside her on fire.

"Likewise. This isn't like your usual scene," Dorian steps in as if he can imagine the profanities in her head.

She doesn't know what she is angry with him about—the day after graduation when she told him she was leaving town had been the only day neither of them fought or argued. He'd told her he would miss her annoying presence and she'd said she'd miss some arrogant jerk barking insults at her while she tried to do her work. It had almost been peaceful, like they were friends saying goodbye.

Rowan shrugs. "This isn't your usual scene either. At least you have your manners." A pointed glance at her.

His voice is deeper than before. He looks more beautiful than ever. "You here to rain on our parades, then?"

Rowan's arms are covered in tattoos that weren't there before. It adds to the whole 'don't fuck with me' vibe he gives out. His silver hair reach his neck—long enough that they can be braided now. Aelin liked it better when it was cropped short but the long hair suit him well. The harsh features are set in a neutral expression but he still manages to look menacing with his arms crossed, each muscle outlined by the soft fabric of his light blue t-shirt.

He says, "There's no need to be rude. I don't hold a grudge against you, Ace."

"For what? You're the one who made my high school years hell," she retorts. Not true. Rowan has as much reason to grudge her as she for him.

Rowan widens his eyes at the accusation in disbelief. "Me? You're the one who told our school president that I was hitting on his sister!"

"Yeah, 'cause you told Archer I was dating Dorian! If you hadn't, Archer would have asked me out." She can't believe the audacity he has, pointing fingers at her when he was as bad as her, if not worse. "You said—"

Dorian places a hand on her arm. "Ace, that's in the past. You two can have a do-over, a fresh start. Hug it out!"

"No way."

"Be mature for once, Ace."

Aelin remains adamant. "Don't know what you're talking. He's scheming!"

"He's not. Rowan is sincere."

She knows he isn't. The Rowan she knows would never give in or be the bigger person or want a fresh start. The Rowan she knew had once promised her they'd hate each other forever.

She pouts. "You don't know him like I do. I can swear he isn't sincere."

Dorian is about to say something but Rowan cuts him off with a loud, defeated sigh. "See why we hated each other now? I want to improve things but she's stubborn as ever." She calls bullshit on the improving things stuff. Aelin hasn't seen him in two years but no one can change that much. Then why is he doing this?

That's when she notices the cameras all around. Shooting has quite possibly started already. Dorian nods in confirmation when she catches his eye. Aelin says, "Fine! You want a do-over! Let's hug it out and start fresh."

She steps forward tentatively, wrapping her arms around her arch-nemesis. Rowan squeezes back. For a moment, Aelin isn't sure if she is right. What if he has changed? What if he is over it, like he said?

Then, so soft she almost missed it, Rowan whispers in her ear, "Game on, Princess." All her doubts melt away.

She has a smile on her face almost as fake as his own. "Game on, indeed."

──────✧❅✦❅✧──────

As the only child of a businessman as successful as he is popular, Aelin is not unfamiliar with outrageous requests but this is on a whole new level. "You want me to do what now?!"

Gavriel—the producer and a family friend—winces at her outburst. "All the contestants will have some angle ready to win the audience over. Considering the reaction you had when you met each other, we think it's best if you pretend to be exes," he explains calmly. "The audience will eat that up. If you want to win, you have to give them drama. Nothing shouts drama like warring exes."

If she is being honest, it is a good plan. Rowan asks, "Why us? I can pretend to be someone else's something!"

Gavriel shakes his head. "Others have their angles worked out. You hate each other already. You can either let this be the end of your journey before show starts. Or you can use your hatred to win. Why compete when you can work together and win? Both of you?" Aelin is still not sold on it but she has to admit it's a good plan.

Rowan breathes out. "I don't want to have to talk to her more than I need to."

"Look who stopped pretending. You soul-sucking lizard! Oh wait, that's an insult to lizards," Aelin says. She doesn't care if she's acting like a child.

He gestures towards her green jumper. "You sure you aren't looking in the mirror, Princess?"

"Damn sure, fuckface—"

Gavriel cuts in before Aelin can pounce on Rowan with her claws out. "See? You're both bound to make things interesting. Don't think of this as having to talk to each other on camera. Think of it as a chance to show each other down in front of camera." And make each other look bad in front of the audience, Gavriel doesn't need to say the rest of it. That gets her attention.

She curls her fingers in the air as if they are wrapped around Rowan's throat. She wants to win this thing. If in making the audience fall in love with her, she can also make the audience hate Rowan, she can tolerate him, can't she?

"I'm in," they say in unison.

Gavriel smiles at them. "When everyone places bets, my money will be on you. Don't disappoint me, you two."

"If there's any danger of disappointing, it will be from Rowan," Aelin says.

The silver-haired bastard refrains from retorting to her but a smirk makes it's way onto his face. He rises from his seat and is almost out of the door when he finally replies, "We'll see what happens. See you soon, princess." And then he is gone, leaving Aelin in the room.

She is still a little shaken by his confidence when she recounts the whole thing to Dorian. "I swear he was never this sure of himself before! Like, he insulted me, sure, but he was always such a perfectionist, I've never seen him look pure smug."

Dorian grins, "It's just like the old times. You ranting to me about Whitethorn."

"Just like the old times," Aelin affirms. "Except much less kissing." Because they'd been dating each other through a better part of high school. Admittedly, she prefers him as a best friend.

Her best friend rolls his eyes. "You joke, but I still have nightmares about how lovesick I used to be back then." He makes a face at his own words, then says, "Speaking of, guess who else is on the show: our star quarterback."

"Fenrys? All I can think about is you, a lovesick nerd with braces and a big crush on Fenrys Moonbeam."

Dorian laughs. "All I can think about is you, dance captain and red haired cheerleader with an even bigger crush on Fenrys Moonbeam." The two of them smile, remembering the lovesick idiots they'd both been in high school. "We are supposed to act like best friends competing with each other for the prize or something. Dial up the drama and all." Regrettably, neither Dorian or her had had the nerve to even introduce themself to the quarterback before he moved away. This would be interesting.

This wasn't Aelin's usual world—this world of glamour and Fame and deception but maybe it wasn't far from her world either. All she was upset about was that Rowan Whitethorn had possibly ruined the grand-old time she had been promised.

──────✧❅✦❅✧──────

tags:

@thesirenwashere // @judexcardanxgreenbriar //@fangirltrash74 // @the-dark-swan // @queenofgreenbriar // @clockworkgraystairs // @julemmaes // @rowaelinforeverworld // @mymultiversee // @queen-of-glass // @strangely-constructed-soul // @mijaldraws // @http-itsrebecca // @aesthetics-11 // @lord-douglas-the-third // @flowersinvegas // @towhateverend17 // @aelinchocolatelover // @justabunchoffandoms // @cool-ish-nerd // @faerie-queen-fireheart // @sad-book-whore // @didsomeonesayviolin // @atozfantazyxx // @hizqueen4life // @the-gods-killer // @booknerdproblems // @annejulianneh111 // @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln // @b00kworm // @mysweetvillain // @curlyredqueen06 // @moondancer-204 // @thesurielships // @witchling-leonor // @ladywitchling // @amren-courtofdreams // @ifinallygavein // @jlinez // @faequeenaelin // @df3ndyr

I love how long this list has gotten. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

#throne of glass #aelin fireheart #aelin ashryver #reality tv au #rowan whitethorn #rowan whitethorn galathynius #rowan x aelin #rowaelin #tog #fanfiction #rowaelin fanfiction #aelin-queen-of-terrasen #sjm fandom #sarah j maas #modern au #fluff

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doyumacy · 4 years ago

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ʀɪᴅᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ - teaser

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: you have been gone for a year, but very little has changed. your half bother’s still a legend in underground races. the same girls hate you. the same boy still makes your heart race, but this time you won’t let him get close enough to hurt you again. not again. not like before.

mark lee has just arrived to town and he’s only staying long enough to set up a few street races, make some money, and have fun. but he might stir up some trouble when begins hanging around with his sponsor’a half sister, and it’s not just her brother he’s pissing off.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: sᴜɢɢᴇsᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴛᴀʟᴋ, ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴀɴɢsᴛ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 𝟷,𝟿ᴋ

ʀᴇʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴅᴀᴛᴇ: ᴀᴘʀɪʟ 𝟹, 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟷

three years ago

you slide out from under the car you've been working on when you hear an unfamiliar engine approaching the garage. it must be a customer, you think as you go to the front desk to help them.

"can i help you?" you ask, freely.

"i have a faulty spark plug and my garage is on the other side of the planet. they told me this was the best place in town."

"and it is. go ahead and go into the store."

"don't mechanics normally keep people waiting in the office?" he asked amused.

"only when the person doesn't know anything about cars. obviously you do, so you have to keep me company while i fix it," you smirk.

"what's your name, suh? -he asks, using the last name on your work shirt.

"y/n. yours?"

"yuta. nakamoto yuta."

"nice to meet you. let's get that car fixed, shall we?"

yuta smiles and leans back against the car once you're done. "how much do i owe you?" he asks quietly.

fortunately, he smiles.

"my thoughts exactly. what time will you be out here?

“six.”

he looks down at that ridiculously nice black gold watch.

"it's only an hour from now. how about i keep you company until then?"

"i'd like that."

"so what were you working on before i showed up?"

"my charger over there. there are some bastards who want to compete with me saying their luxury imports can beat it. tonight they're in for an ugly surprise."

"that sounds like something i'd like to see. mind if i stay and watch you kick their asses?"

"it'd be my pleasure," you smile.

sl walking, you find yourself wrapped in warm arms and leaning against a hard chest. you caress the dragon-shaped tattoo on his right shoulder and plant a kiss on it.

a quiet moan tells you she is waking up. his arm tightens around her. he plants a kiss on your forehead.

"good morning to you too," you say.

yuta rolls you onto his back and rests his torso on top of yours. "good morning."

"you look happy.

"i woke up with a beautiful, bad-ass, street-racing woman in my arms. how could i complain?”

you laugh. "well, i could say the same thing. it's not often i get to wake up next to a hot guy and that brother would probably beat up if he knew where i spent the night."

he barks out a laugh. "you're most likely right..." he bites his lip. "there's something you need to know."

your smile disappears. "you're not married, are you?"

"no! god, no," he replies instantly. "i just want to know if you want it to be more than a brief fling."

you are silent for a moment as he thought.

"yes, i think so. i mean, we could get to know each other better but yes," you explain.

"then we're on the same page," you nod absently. "do you want to have breakfast before we go on with our talk?"

you can't help but get a little nervous. what does he have to say?

"what do you want for breakfast?"

"uh..." you sit up, holding the black sheet against your chest to cover yourself. "whatever. i'm not particularly picky."

"y/n! where the hell are you?" johnny asks as soon as you answer the phone. “you didn’t come home last night, and jaehyun said there was a guy watching you the entire race.”

“don’t worry about it, brother. that guy was my date last night. i’m at this place right now,” you grin.

“hold on, you had a date?! who? why didn’t you tell me?” johnny bombards you with questions.

you sigh. you saw this coming.

“everything all right?” yuta asks, entering his bedroom.

“my brother,” you say with your mouth. “johnny! easy with the questions. i’ll tell you later, bye!”

“be responsible!” it can be heard from the phone and you hang up.

you exhale dramatically and fall back on the bed.

“trouble, dear?” yuta inquiries.

you raise your head to look at him. “big brothers are tedious,” you announce after a minute.

“i wouldn’t know; i’m the older brother.”

“oh?”

yuta smiles warmly. “i have a younger brother. the idiot used to fight older bullies in the yard, and i was the one who had to finish them off.”

you smirk. “you protected him. my brother’s the same way.”

“let’s eat, okay? i still need to talk about something important,” yuta declares.

you nod and he tosses you slightly one of his shirts. you put it on and grab your panties putting them on.

yuta made sunny side up eggs and french toasts. between bites, yuta begins to speak. “i work for the korean mafia.”

“huh?” you stop eating and stare at him. “you what?”

yuta laughs lightly. “i work for the korean mafia.” he repeats. “i bet you’re wondering what a japanese guy is doing working for the korean mafia.”

“not exactly my first thought but yes,” you shrug. “what do you do?”

“let’s say i’m a middleman between the korean mafia and the yakuza,” he confesses.

you frown. “so you buy goods from them and then sell them?”

yuta raises an eyebrow at you. “what are you? a businesswoman?”

you laugh and have a bite of your toast. “i went to business school, but i dropped out this semester.”

“hot,” he plants a kiss on your lips. “so yes, that’s my job. aren’t you scared?”

“of what? you? your job?” you snort. “i’ve seen way worse in the underground. i gotta say i’m surprised because i thought you were a good boy.”

yuta chuckles. “i am good at other things,” he winks at you.

you push the plate aside and sit on his lap. “i can’t recall, do you mind refreshing my memory?”

yuta grins and places his hand on your ass cheeks. “aren’t you too sore?”

“pain is my best friend,” you nip at his lip and he groans.

ONE YEAR AGO

you’re standing in front of his gravestone and place the flower bouquet next to it, remembering how you two met. the only sound is the wind, rustling through a nearby copse of trees. it has been five days since yuta died and the hole in your chest only gets deeper.

it hurts.

you’re broken.

your life without him means nothing. the city without him means nothing. nothing makes sense without him.

you stare at the gravestone and then lower your heard. “i came to say goodbye. i can’t stay here anymore. everywhere i go i see your face. everyone reminds me of you.”

you feel tears streaming down your face. “i’ll never forget you, yuta. i love you so much.” you burst out crying.

you leave town that same night, leaving everything and everyone behind.

#yuta imagine #yuta nct #yuta smut #yuta x reader #mark lee smut #mark lee imagine #mark lee nct #mark lee nct 127 #nct 127 smut #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 imagine #johnny x reader #johnny smut

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alirhi · 3 years ago

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random snippet again

as promised, @feralgoblintea here's the (temporary) scene where the two sisters meet for the first time since one went missing as a child

note about the nickname: Rachel's middle name is Miranda; everyone has called her 'Andy' from that since she was a little kid. it's explained in her story, but not in this scene, so I just wanted to explain it here lol

"Your parents are very eager to know where you've been and what you've been going through all these years," the doctor told her, deep voice oddly gentle and soothing. Rachel smiled sadly; his voice reminded her of Amadeus. "Most of all, they want to know that you're alright."

She knew he thought she was crazy. Her parents definitely shared that opinion, which was why she was here to begin with. Still, she couldn't help asking, "And, in your professional opinion, am I?"

He caught her lightly mocking tone and snorted, leaning back in his chair to mirror her pose. "In my professional opinion," he shot back, though the sarcasm left his tone before he even finished his sentence, "you've been through Hell, Rachel. The trauma you've suffered is very, very real. If you're asking, do I believe in demons and portals and time travel, I'd have to say no. But that pain and fear came from somewhere... I'd like you to come back in for regular sessions, if you're up for it; see if we can cut through the fantasy, see past the demons and find the real monsters who hurt you."

"That's why I'm not coming back." She stood, shaking her head a little. "I'm not surprised you don't believe me - I probably wouldn't believe it, myself, if I hadn't lived it - but it's a bit frustrating. What I told you isn't metaphors or delusion. It all happened, and I'm not interested in having someone rip it all apart and try to make me doubt my own memory."

"They call that 'gaslighting' these days."

Startled, the blonde whirled around to face the source of the new voice; a woman she sort of vaguely recognized was standing in the doorway, hand on the knob, smiling at her. After a long moment, her brain helpfully edited the image before her to make it make sense; wild red hair to dirty blonde, violet eyes to mismatched green and blue, face younger and body smaller and more plump. "...Beck?!"

Rebecca's smile widened and she stepped forward with a nod. "Hey, Andy."

"Oh my god!" With a laugh and a delighted screech, she launched herself across the room and threw her arms around her little sister. "What are you doing here?"

Nearly squeezing the breath out of her, the younger woman murmured, "I heard you were back and had to see you. Stand your ground, Andy. Don't let them make you forget or doubt that it was all real. We know the truth." She released her, only to bring her hands up to grip the sides of her sister's head. "Magic is real."

Rachel froze, staring at Rebecca's mouth long after it closed and the two long, wicked fangs that had drawn her attention were hidden from view. "...What happened to you?"

"Not here. I'll tell you everything, but not here."

"Okay." Without so much as a backward glance at the shrink, she followed the redhead out of the office, past their fretting parents, and out into the bright sunny day that made Rebecca hiss.

She cringed and immediately donned a beat-to-hell baseball cap and a pair of dark sunglasses. "Fuck, I hate sunny days."

"You always did." Rachel couldn't help smiling faintly; so many years had passed, more than anyone in the world around them could ever understand, and yet so little about her baby sister had changed.

"Yeah, well... I've only gotten more sensitive to it."

Once they'd made it deep enough into the woods behind the Industrial Park that there was no risk of anyone overhearing, they stopped, and Rachel asked her point blank: "You're a vampire, aren't you?"

Rebecca laughed, gratefully leaning back into the shade of the nearest tree. "Only in our lives is that a casual conversation starter. And yes. Thankfully I'm old enough that daylight won't kill me. It's just unpleasant."

With her own accidental time travel in mind, the blonde asked, "How old are you?" Thirty-seven, she knew, in the eyes of the people around them; to them, Rachel herself had only just turned thirty-nine, and yet both sisters looked at each other with exhausted, haunted eyes millennia older than they could ever hope to make anyone else understand.

"As a vampire, or in general?" She smirked, shrugging off her own question before her sister could answer. "In general is harder to pin down, but I've been a vampire for about six thousand years, give or take a few."

Leaning against a tree roughly opposite Rebecca's, Rachel mirrored her smirk and crossed her arms over her chest. "I was Queen of an entire planet, and then POW and slave on a second, then a fugitive... I managed to send my older daughter home, before I got stuck on a third planet with my boys and little girl. It's been about ten thousand years."

"You have kids?" Rebecca grinned, once again showing those distractingly long fangs. "Me, too! I have two daughters, Madeline and Alice."

"Senna, Kieran, Caspian, and...Cassie," Rachel told her in answer to her unspoken question. She couldn't help blushing as she listed her children's names; she'd since learned what senna was, and hadn't actually given her younger two children names beginning with the same sound on purpose. It had just sort of worked out that way.

"Twins?"

She shook her head. "Caspian's my stepson, kinda, and Cassie was named after-"

Rebecca flinched, remembering. "After Cassie Wade, right? I was so focused on figuring out what happened to you, and then fighting to survive, I'd forgotten she went missing with you."

"She..." Clearing her throat, the blonde squared her shoulders and pulled her strong front around herself like a familiar safety blanket. "She saved our lives; she didn't make it. And, yeah. I named my youngest after her. Anyway, they're all grown, and Kieran..." Jaw clenching, she forcibly dismissed thoughts of her rapist and merely said, "He's my perfect warrior prince. Well, King now. I love them all, and desperately miss Senna, but Kieran, despite his more questionable choices, has a special place in my heart."

Rebecca took her sunglasses off and studied her for a moment before venturing, "Y'know... I literally eat rapists for breakfast."

That got a startled bark of laughter from her big sister, who shook her head. "Even if my boy hadn't already killed him, I doubt his gross, rancid blood would sit well with you. He wasn't human."

The redhead shrugged, smirking again. "Doesn't have to be. I've eaten Fae, elves, one vampire that pissed me off royally..."

"Not such a picky eater anymore, huh?" she teased, grinning. "Was it some badass revenge on your sire or something?"

Laughing, Rebecca shook her head. "Nope, no sire. I'm the OG vampire, babe. The first of the species. My younger daughter, Alice, is the first of the natural born vamps."

"So, wait... You could still get pregnant after you were turned? What?" Rachel frowned, beyond confused. "And how the fuck...?"

"I'm not dead," her little sister explained with another laugh. "Everything's slowed way the hell down, but hasn't stopped. I can't have kids with a human, or probably most Fae, but a certain trickster God..."

"...God?"

She grinned and nodded, though her haunting violet eyes looked sad. "Loki. He's Alice's dad."

"Huh. So the Gods are real." Rachel snorted. "Go figure. And my sister banged one."

"I loved him," the other woman whispered, staring at the ground. She opened her mouth as if to speak further, then seemed to reconsider and closed it again, clearing her throat.

To spare her from some clearly painful memories, whatever they were, Rachel asked, "What's a Fae?"

"Fairy," was the simple enough answer. "Fairies are real, too. Maddie - my oldest - is Fae."

Is she Loki's, too? She didn't dare ask - Loki was clearly a touchy subject - but she was dying to know.

As if she could read her mind, Rebecca, still avoiding her gaze, explained, "I was still mortal when I had her. Her father was Fae."

As the light breeze shifted the leaves above them, making the light dance across Rebecca's ghostly white skin, Rachel finally noticed the scars. At first, they'd looked like tribal tattoos, done puzzlingly in a silvery-white. When she realized they were actually a complex web of ancient scars, she also noticed they covered every inch of her sister's flesh that she could see around her shorts and tank top. Her face was the only place free of the oddly beautiful swirling lines, though she did spot a faint scar on her forehead, running from hairline to cheekbone and through the outer edge of her eyebrow.

"Is Madeline's father why you hunt rapists?" Is he the one who tore you apart?

"He didn't rape me... Technically. But yes, he's the one who scarred me." At her startled look, Rebecca smirked; it utterly failed to reach her eyes, but it was a start. "I can read your mind. I'm trying not to - I find it unspeakably rude and invasive - but when you're actively thinking about me, it tends to cut through my shields. The scars are from a spell he worked on me; blood magic. It's what made Maddie's conception possible, and chained me to him for years."

"Kieran's father was my greatest enemy; Crown Prince of the people who'd been attacking and slaughtering mine. King by the time I escaped." She didn't know what made her suddenly share this, but it felt like the thing to do. Her sister had told her something deeply personal and troubling; it seemed only right to meet candor with candor. Besides, Rachel and Rebecca had been two peas in a pod as children, as close as two sisters could possibly be. There was no amount of time that could strain their relationship. "I was captured in battle and kept as a slave for around a year and a half."

"How did the other three come about?" She smirked again, shoving her wild red hair back off her face impatiently. "Even when we were kids, I'd have bet just about anything that you're gayer than a rainbow, so how do you have so many kids?"

Rachel laughed, rolling her eyes. "Political marriage gave me Senna - born in a dungeon, thanks to me being pregnant during the battle and not knowing it yet. She was smuggled home to her father after she was born. I made a friend in that Hellhole, Emil, and he'd been raising Caspian; he's not his biological father, but that never mattered, just like it didn't matter to me that I didn't give birth to him. That boy's just as much my son as Kieran. We were supposed to go back to my home when we escaped, but something went screwy and we ended up on Achlys, instead, where I met my girlfriend and we all decided to just settle and raise the boys."

"So you cheated on your husband?" Rebecca's grin was teasing - and, thank god, reached her eyes at last! - but Rachel still threw an acorn at her when she said, "You whore!"

"I never saw him again! And he wouldn't have given a shit," she explained with a laugh. "I was, like, his third or fourth wife. And like I said, it was purely political; I was Queen, he was my advisor, he wanted power and I wanted an heir. Enter Senna, who boosted Raziel from random noble to father of the next Queen, and assured that there would be someone to take the reins if I died."

"So..." Her sister began ticking points off on her fingers as she spoke. "Shrewd political moves gave you Senna, you're co-parenting Caspian with a friend, we won't speak of Kieran's origins... How and why was Cassie a thing?"

Rachel shook her head, gaping at her. "A thing? That's nice, Beck. Real nice."

"Gods, you've missed so many cultural shifts, dude." Rebecca shook her head right back, trying not to laugh at her. "Just answer the question, old lady."

"Emil and I, and my girlfriend Trinity, all talked and decided to hell with conventionality; we all love each other, so we'll all be together. Em's my exception, I guess; the only man I've ever been attracted to even after seeing him naked. Our boys were grown, Senna was long gone, we'd made a whole new life for ourselves, so we decided to have another baby. Enter Cassie." Rachel sighed, staring off into space. "And now she's grown, Kieran's back in that awful place trying to turn it around, married to a great girl, Caspian's there with them to help..."

Though she had a feeling she knew the answer, the vampire asked softly, "And your lovers?"

"...Dead. Cassie - Cassie Wade, I mean - died in prison, Trin and Em were killed in the second war." A bitter smirk tugged at the corners of her lips. "Kieran and Cas are running a third."

"There's always another fucking war," Rebecca grumbled. "I've watched so many of them come and go, fought in two, myself... It never really ends."

#crossroads #claddagh #achlys #rachel o'brien #rebecca o'brien #achlys and claddagh meet

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cosplaydude637 · 3 years ago

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Chapter 08: Market Run.

Simon has been in the library for the last three days. He looked like crap. His hair was messier then normal and he had dark rings under his eyes, an energy ruin barind on his right arm. Isabelle walks in and looks at her husband and lets out a heavy hearted sigh.

“Simon why are you still here? You have to sleep!” She barks.

Simon slow looks up at her his eyes red from staring at a computer screen. “Is there word form the other have we learned anything?” He asks. Isabelle shakes her head slowly “Ok then that is why i am still here researching everything I can think of.” He adds. Isabelle sighs and walks out of the library.

Isabelle leaned her back on the door of the library. She loved Simon but damn that man could be stubborn. Then again she did love that about him too, just not when it came to her. Giving a heavy sigh she push off and heads down the hall to the weapons room.

Once in the weapon room Izzy fault at home. The room was covered in all kinds of weapons from swords and whips to axes and bows. As a weapons master Isabellea loved this room. Not as must as she loved her and Simon room…. There bed. How she missed her husband but ever since they learned of the Gates Simon has not left the library. She past most her time here.

However this time the weapons room was not empty. Ruthie one of the new young shadowhunters was standing there looking over a table of knifes. “Can I help you squirt.” Izzy asks. Ruthie jumps and lets out a little sqwill.

“Mr.s LoveLace you scared me.” Ruthie says turning to look at Izzy.

“It's Izzy and i am sorry but did you need some Weapons?” Izzy asks as she makes her way to her work table.

“Mr.s ...Izzy” Ruthie starts to say but catches her self. “You know every Weapon in here right?” she finishes.

“That I do, I would not be much of a weapons master if I did not. Why do you want to learn?” Izzy inquers.

Ruthie shakes her head “Not exactly. I am the medic for my squad as you will know. I want to learn how these weapons can hurt my team and what I can do to heal them.” she explands.

“Wall for must of them a Iratze will do the trick.” Izzy repalies.

“You just said, must of them?” Ruthie asks

“Wall ya if we are stabbed with a seraph blade it will not heal with an Iratze.” Izzy explands.

“And any truly deadly cut will need more than just a Iratze that's why Alec put into place a medic on every team.” Izzy says fingering a long sword that lies on her disk. Just then one of the other new Shadowhunters enters the room.

“Hello Xander.” Izzy says waving at him.

“Hey the console asked me to tell you that him, Jace,Simon,Clary, Mekyle and Angelique are all going on a mission and will be back later.” Xander says in a very droll voice.

“What's with you?” Ruthie asks.

“Just because I don't have a Parabatai I can't go on this mission.” Xander pouts.

“It does suck at times but there are just some things that only they can do. Trust me I dealt with it all my life.” Izzy says with a small smile.

“Ya but I am going crazy stuck in here with books.” Xander says.

“Well you know there are other ways to get info” Izzy replays with an evil smile. Ruthie and Xander exchange looks and smile.

An hour later Izzy, Ruthie and Xander are walking down Canal street in full gear unseen to all the mundens. “Where are we going?” Xander asked.

“Just keep up.” Izzy says ducking into an old run-down theater. The other two follow her. Their eyes go wide when they see a huge market unfooled before them. “Welcome to the Shadow Market.” She adds with a smile.

The two young shadowhunters look around in amazement. There were stands selling all kinds of things. One stand head a vampire selling Cross of all things. There were two Werewolves selling all kinds of meat. In the square two fey girls were dancing in circles. As they walked deeper and deeper in the market they were filled with wonder.

“Mrs.Isabelle, where are we going?” Xander asks.

“Just call me Izzy and we are headed there.” Izzy says and points to a small building. The sign over it says “The Dancing Elf.”

“Tell me that is a joke.” Ruthie smirks as they make their way in.

The Dancing Elf was a very busy bar with all kinds of downworlders in it. Izzy walks over to the Bar and kicks one of the chears so hard it flies over everyone's head and hits the back wall. The whole place goes silent and turns and looks at Izzy, Ruthie and Xander. Xanders hands slowly move to his Chakrums on his hips. Right as the room seems to start to bust into a full out brawl a Woman voce yells from the back of the bar at a round Table. “Damn it Lightwood why you gotta be a pain in everyone's ass!”

Izzy smirked and started to make her way to the table. She walked with a power that screamed go ahead and try to pick a fight with me, I dare you. But not a single one came at her. And there were gant Fey in this place but they just looked away or got out of Izzy's way as she passed. Xander and Ruthie followed behind her quickly.

“Cassandra you old Dog. You know me, I got to be the center of attachen.” Izzy flashed her a devilish smile.

Cassandra was a lean woman with long green hair and glowing yellow eyes. She was dressed head to toe in black with 3ich high black combat boots. Both her arms were covered in tattoos. Like Izzy, Cassandra ora screamed fighter. Seeing as Xander is from the mundane world Cassandra looks like something out of a biker gang.

“Izzy Lightwood it's been far too long.” Cassandra moshens for them to sit down. As the Shadowhunters take their seat the Bar goes back to its normal business.

“It's Lovelace's now Cass.” Izzy smiles and flashes her wedding ring.

“Wall lish me and send me to the powned A man who was brave enough to put a ring on it.”

“Cass be nice Simon is a great man and one hell of a lover.” Izzy smirked.

“So why are you here, most not be for a drank… Seeing as you got the kiddos.” Cass looked over at the two young shadowhunters. Ruthie's eyes were glued to the table but Xanders head was like it was on a swivel. In his mind he had already mapped out ways to get them out of this place with as little damage as needed.

“Cass, This is Xander and Ruthie. They are young but they are ShadowHunters and they are good. Or so Jace tells me.”

“Oh Jace how is my dear blond god?”

“Married” Xander smarted off.

“Oh the kids Got fire?” Cass asked. Xander locked eyes with her and for a few sacents not one of them blinked. “Oh i like you boyo.” Cass says liking her lips sadctvly. This made Xander look away. Cass leaphs out and turn back to Izzy. “so why are you here?”

“Need Info and you're just the bloodhound to find out for me.” Izzy says with a soft smile.

“Is Is she a Wolf?” Ruthie squikes out. Cass again starts leaphing.

“No I am a warlock that is shifter.” Cass answers.

“Shifter?” Ruthie asks, finally looking at the women.

“Ya I am a Shape Shifter. I mostly turn in to a dog. Hins why your monitor keeps dropping the dog jokes.”

“Hey you made one two.” Xander chimes in. Cass blows him a kiss and smiles as Xander's whole face turns red and he finds a very interesting spot on the floor to Look at.

“Cass focus I need info on a warlock that is called Sinara.” Izzy snaped. Cass whent raged and her face went almost ghost white.

“You seen her.. Or you know her.” Izzy stated

“Look Shadowhunter I think it's time you got out of my bar!”

“Cass, Please she almost killed my brothers.”

“Get out!” Cass growled and once again the whole bar fell silent.

Izzy studded up and slammed her fist on the table. “Damn you Bitch and all your kind!” Izzy stormed out of the bar. Ruthie followed suit behind her but as Xander made to leave Cass grabbed his arm and slammed a piece of paper into his hand. Xander looked at Cass and in her yellow eyes and for a split second he saw regret in her eyes.

Once All three of them were outside Izzy spun on Xander and grabbed his shirt. “What did she say to you?”

“What nothing just gave me this paper.” Xander holds up the paper and Izzy saches it out of his hand. She quickly opens it and starts to giggle like a schoolgirl. She hands it back and starts for the exit. Xander looks at the paper and again Blush like a mad man. All that was on the paper was a phone number and xoxoxo

As our group of shadowhunters make it to the exit a blood curdling scram coming from the Dancing Elf. Without thinking Xander turned and ran back with Ruthie and Izzy a few seconds behind him. Xander bust through the doors of the bar and drew his chakrams as he landed and stood ready to fight. The bar looked like a blood bath. Ruthie let out a small scream as she came charging in.

“By the Angel!” She states and starts to tend to the few that were still alive.

Izzy eyes sweep the room quickly. Xander does the same. Both were taking inventory of who was in the bar and how was not… “Cass!” They both shout. A werewolf with a broken leg slowly sits up. “They grabbed her and head out the back.” Ruthie moved to start working on his leg.

“You two Go I got this.” Ruthie doesn't even notice that Xander was already gone.

“Damn it!” Izzy snapped and took off after him.

When Xander got to the back alley he found to human shaped shadow hovering over Cass who was laying passed out on the floor. Xander threw one of his chakrams, That cutting off one of the shadow heads.

“Nephalum.” The other shadow histed

“Shadow Demons” Izzy says, waking up next to Xander, her shank bracelet slithering into its whip form.

“You know this breed of demon?” Xander asks as his chakram flies into his hand.

“Ya, A shadow demon is formed from the very essence of evil on the Abyss”

“So why are they after Cass?”

“Good Question lets ask.” Izzy flicked her wrist and her whip gois flying out and wraps around the demons neck. The sound of burning flesh can be hard and smoke was coming from it's nick where the whip was.

“Adumis..” It cried out in pain.

“That's right big boy.” Izzy scoffed.

Xander dashes over to Cass wall Izzy toys with the demon. Cass layed there on the cold ground unconscious. Xander slowly moved her head to where it was laying on his lap. “Ruthie!!!” He cries out.

“Why are you after my Friend!” Izzy bracked yanking on the whip.

“Shape Shifter talks too much.” the demon answers in a raspy voice.

“Who sent you?”

“Why you ask us that you know already.”

“Sinara” Xander ground out from clenched teeth.

Finally Ruthie head made her way to the ally they all stood in. She crouched down next to Cass and began working on her. “It's going to be ok Xan I think she is just out cold.” Ruthie lays her med bag down and Xander places Cass hade on it. Within sacets Xander head drew his other chakram and shoved it deep into the demons left arm and head the other at its throat. Izzy eyes widened and shock then softened in respect.

“I am only going to ask this once. Why... does... Sinara... want... Cassandra... to... stop... talking...?” He drew out the words of that last sentence so that the demon knew he was not messing around.

“Gatekeeper Gatekeeper!” It shouted out in fear “No Kill me I only do my j…” It started to add but was cut off when Xander cut it's head off with his charkram.

“You will never lay a hand on her again!” Slowly he clipped his charkram to his hips and turned to see all three girls staring at him. He locked eyes with Cass and she smiled at him. He gave her a soft smile back.

“Umm what's a GateKeeper?” Ruthie asks, breaking the awkward silence.

“I am.” Cass answers. Ruthie and Izzy help her up

“Ok what's that mean Cass?” Izzy asks.

“It's an order that the Shadowhunters started but over the centrays Downworlders have joined. We have one simple job.” Cass says with a heavy sigh

“Guard the gates of hell.” Xander finishes for her. Cass only nods in agreement.

#shadowhunters #shadow world #jace herondale #clary fairchild #clary x jace #alec lightwood #magnus bane #alec x magnus #simon lovelace #izzy lightwood #simon x izzy #epic #cool

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nalgenewhore · 4 years ago

Text

Too Late To Turn Back Now - Five

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter

an: everything will be fine! i promise, just to preface, that everything will be a-ok 😊

+*+*+*+*+*+*

The day was half over already as Lorcan lounged around in Sadirah’s garden with his sisters, him and Aneha doing their best to distract the youngest sister as she worked her garden, muttering in Ozuye about how they were both clod-footed brutes that would ruin all her hard work.

They just laughed and continued on with their shenanigans, sneaking the weeds she pulled from the soil into her hair and flicking dirt across her face. Sadirah had always been the calmest of the siblings, always there to soothe hurt feelings and calm worked-up emotions so no one was surprised that she didn’t react, merely stared at them with a patient look.

As far as things go, they all got on well, hardly ever fighting. With everyone having their own interest, there was no need to clash or compete to be the best. Sadirah was inclined to gardening and painting – most of the paintings in the house had been done by her, while Aneha was exceptional at music, specifically piano, and had a voice that could make the gods themselves weep.

Eventually, it became clear that Sadirah wouldn’t crack so Lorcan and Aneha gave up, choosing to lie on the soft grass beside the patch of sweetgrass and white sage, the fragrant air soothing all his worries for now.

The gate opened and Lorcan cracked an eye open, thinking it was his mother, but no. It was Maeve. His sisters remained oblivious as Aneha braided flowers into his hair and Sadirah harvested sage and sweetgrass to dry in bundles and braids. Lorcan sat up, already nudging Aneha behind him as Maeve curled her lip at her great-nieces and nephew. “Lorcan. I need to speak with you.”

Sadirah froze and glanced over her shoulder, wrapping an arm around Aneha as she moved over to her side. Lorcan sighed and stood, leaning down to kiss their heads before stalking out of the garden, leaving his sister’s handiwork alone even as Maeve gave it a disapproving look. She had never liked his hair, but Lorcan refused to cut it, it would go against his faith and people.

“What is it,” he asked once they were out of earshot from the garden.

His great-aunt sighed and picked at her nails, “How long will this continue?”

“What are you talking about.”

“You’ve been in Doranelle long enough. It’s time to come back home so I can show you how to run the business. You’re just a secretary.”

Lorcan curled his hands into fists and his nostrils flared in anger. “I have a law degree, Maeve. Articling is something every law graduate is required to do.”

“And you’ve had your fun. But the family needs you back home. There is no one for me to pass on my business—”

“I swear to the fucking Creator, don’t tell me that bullshit again. You were an investor, and your investment was paid in full a decade ago. Mom is the one who sacrificed everything for her empire and you have yet to release it. You know nothing about how to run the businesses, and I have no interest. Do you understand that I’m a lawyer? Like, I graduated law school. Like the way Elide is a lawyer.”

Maeve’s eyes flashed dangerously and Lorcan knew he would come to regret the words, but in the moment, he couldn’t seem to find it in himself to care. “That woman is no more fit to be a lawyer than you are. She—”

“Insult Elide to my face and we’ll see how that goes, Auntie.”

“She is handicapped—”

“The fuck did I just say? If you want me home, talk to me fairly and speak with your chest. Elide has worked harder than anyone I know to get to where she is, not that you would understand that. I have half a mind to uninvite you to the wedding, but I won’t. Stay away from my family, Maeve,” he spat. Lorcan looked her up and down with a disgusted expression and shook his head, scoffing as he stormed away, too angry to begin thinking of the consequences.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Elide had just come out of the house from the quiet greenhouse when she’d heard terse voices arguing around the corner. Not wanting to interrupt anything, Elide stayed still, close enough to hear everything Lorcan had said. Something in her chest had tightened to hear Maeve insult her like that and then to have Lorcan defend her like that.

She waited another minute before walking out, leveling Maeve with a cold stare as she moved to follow Lorcan.

Only, she couldn’t find him and settled on leaving him alone to cool off. Elide sat on a bench overlooking an ocean cove and opened her book again, wrapping her cardigan further around her without taking her eyes off the page.

Fifteen minutes later, someone cleared their throat and she looked up, seeing Vaughan standing a few metres away. “Oh. Hello, Vaughan.”

“Hi, Elide. I’m sorry that we weren’t more accommodating yesterday. I was wondering if you’d like to go on a quick hike – a forest walk, really.”

Elide internalized her hesitation and nodded, “Sure.”

Vaughan nodded once and they were off, strolling along the cliff’s edge until they reached the trees. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

The man shrugged, “I’d like to get to know you better. Lorcan and I grew up together.”

Elide nodded, “Aelin told me you were cousins. Did you two grow up here?”

He barked a laugh and shook his head, “Oh, lords above, no. No, um, my parents weren’t… the best of parents and Odette took me in as a toddler so I consider her to be my mom and she sees me as a son. We lived on the Ozuye reserve on the mainland. Did Lorcan not tell you?”

She shook her head, the sun flickering through the canopy of pine trees, “No, he doesn’t talk about his childhood often.”

“Ah, well. His father was abusive and hit us all regularly. Lorcan suffered the worst of it,” his voice hitched and he cleared his throat before continuing, “I was smaller than him, so he would take my beatings and he could never stay in place while watching our mother be hurt.”

Elide’s heart clenched and she found herself saying slowly: “My guardian beat me.”

“They did?”

She swallowed past her tight throat. She had never been more keenly aware of her ankle right now. “My uncle. My parents died when I was young and he was given full custody.” The words died on the tip of her tongue and she couldn’t share with him the story of her ankle, not now, not with Vaughan. “What happened to the father?”

“He left after Odette got pregnant with the girls. Never saw or heard from him again. Odette began her first business and then the next and soon enough we were moving.”

They fell quiet and walked in an eerie silence that Vaughan eventually broke. “I’ve never seen Lorcan with anyone other than Essar, so I’m sorry if any of us are being rude. How the two of you act is very different. We all thought he would marry her one day.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh. He even proposed.”

“He did?”

“Yeah, but she said no. They were young and they thought they were in love. Essar just knew she wasn’t ready and couldn’t stay with him. So, they broke up a week before they left for college and hardly ever spoke again.”

“Oh. That’s…” Elide trailed off as the path took them to yet another cliff, the water blue and sparkling ten metres below. “It’s beautiful here.”

“We used to come up here and cliff jump all the time.”

Elide’s eyes widened and she peered over the edge, a shiver running through her at the menacing rocks that appeared beneath the surface and the waves that slammed themselves against the rock face. “How did you not die?”

Vaughan laughed, “Run and shoot for distance. Maybe throw up a prayer beforehand.”

Elide chuckled and they sat on the edge, watching a pod of orcas circling a rock island, hunting for food. Eagles circled above in the sky and swooped in to clean off whatever the killer whales had left after the frenzy.

Vaughan stood and helped her up, “I should probably get you back. Wouldn’t want to worry your betrothed.” He winked and smirked as she attempted to smile, hating the guilt coiling in her gut.

When they got back, they found Lorcan at the woodpile, wearing a precariously cut tank top as he aggressively chopped wood, earbuds in. Vaughan made a face, “I’ll let you handle that.”

Elide laughed, “So gracious.” With a little salute, Vaughan sauntered off and Elide turned back to Lorcan who hadn’t even noticed anyone. His long hair was twisted in a loose braid and with every fall of the axe, a flower fell from it. Elide was transfixed by the sight, a filling warmth pooling low in her belly as she watched the cotton material of his top stick to his chest, enjoying the sight far too much.

She was a busy woman and hardly had time for that but when Lorcan looked like… a god, she couldn’t help but entertain the idea before she felt her cheeks flush and she quickly walked away from the scene.

Elide wasn’t blind or stupid either, obviously she’d seen how good he looked over the past two years. It’s not your fault, she told herself, he wears all those… fitted suits and likes to roll up the sleeves of his shirts and he has all those tattoos… honestly, fuck him for having sexy forearms.

Her cheeks were still bright red as she slipped into their room, walking straight into the bathroom and turning on the shower. As she waited for the water to warm up, she walked to the window, opening them and pushing them as far out as they would go to cool her face.

There was a dull, repetitive chopping sound and she looked down to see that Lorcan was almost directly beneath her, the blade of the axe flashing in the sun as he raised it and brought it down again. She didn’t know that Maeve’s comments had angered him this much. The black ink on his arms that creeped under his top to cover his back seemed to capture the sunlight that made his copper skin glow.

Before she could get too distracted by the sight of him, again, Elide stood up straight and undressed to enter the shower, resting her forehead against the tiled wall as she cursed everything and everyone.

She was in such deep, unending shit.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Music set on the highest possible volume, Lorcan cut firewood until his shoulders burned and his chest heaved, his lungs greedily searching for air. He let the axe fall to the ground with a heavy thump and used the hem of his shirt to wipe his brow. The braid that Aneha had made was coming undone, flowers lying crushed on the ground around him and chunks of hair falling free from the constraints.

Lorcan didn’t bother to fix it as he stalked towards the house in need of a shower. Usually, he could exercise massive amounts of self restraint, but somehow Maeve pushed every button possible until he exploded. He didn’t see her as he moved through the house and figured she’d slinked back to the guesthouse she insisted on occupying every time she visited.

His earbuds were still in and he nodded in passing to the boys who were in the living room, playing some video game. Maybe he’d join them later.

Tapping his fingers against his thigh to the Dead Kennedys’ Too Drunk To Fuck, he entered his room, closing the door behind him and shucking his shirt off to the floor.

He went out to the balcony, flinging himself down on one of the chairs and slinging an arm over his eyes. Lorcan basked in the sun’s rays until it became too hot and he stood up, his music still playing far too loudly as he walked inside and dropped his shorts, tossing them onto the dresser as he turned to the bathroom, completely oblivious to everything. He could’ve sworn he heard something so he turned around, seeing nothing and walking backwards.

Suddenly, something rammed into his back and he whirled, catching whatever it was as they went down.

They fell to the floor and he looked down just as Elide, a very naked and wet Elide, looked up.

They both yelled and jumped away from each other as Elide held her arm over her chest and crossed her legs, “Why are you naked?!”

“Why are you wet?!” Lorcan yelled back, holding his hands in front of his groin.

“Don’t look at me,” she hissed, not moving until he turned and she hastily grabbed a towel from the armoire. Lorcan’s phone had fallen during their abrupt greeting and he bent down to get while Elide yelled again, “Anneith below, can you not?! I can see everything.”

He quickly changed positions and tugged his shorts on, his face bright red as he turned and she demanded, "Explain yourself.”

“I didn’t see you! I was outside chopping wood,” he said, looking anywhere but his boss in a towel, skin gleaming.

“You didn’t hear me?”

“I was listening to music, princess. Why did you jump me?”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, “I did not jump you. Well, I didn’t mean to. I forgot a towel after my shower and you were just there.”

Lorcan looked down at her suspiciously, “Were you trying to seduce me?”

She rolled her eyes, “Please. Don’t flatter yourself, it’s not cute.”

He smiled cockily, raising his hands, “It’s fine, you know. I get it, I’m sweaty, half-naked, you saw me chopping wood and it made you feel some type of way.”

“You stink. Go take a shower.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Elide just rolled her eyes again as he walked to the bathroom, stopping at the door and looking over his shoulder at her, “Don’t take this the wrong way…” her back was turned to him and he saw her tattoo, a delicate line of script written down her spine, with a mountain range on her right shoulder blade, a wyvern mid flight on her left. He fell silent, unable to form words.

“What?”

“You’re a very beautiful woman, Elide.”

“Shut up,” she said, though when she glanced back at him, her lips pulled into a small grin.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Aelin and Nehemia were near tears after Elide recounted an adjusted version of her and Lorcan’s sudden and wet incident. She got along really well with the both of them and once she remembered that this wasn’t supposed to last, her chest grew tight and she needed to have a drink.

Odette booted Rowan, Vaughan, Connall, and Fenrys from her living room to the patio. They all smiled at Aelin and Nehemia, the bright grins dampening as they saw Elide. “Oh. Hey, Elide.”

She pretended not to notice it and ignored the pang in her chest again. “Hey.”

Vaughan broke the awkward silence by sprawling on the couch next to her, practically crushing her into the cushion with his frame. “Gods, I rule at gaming. You guys wish you had my skills.” That seemed to do the trick and the boys were quick to argue, dissolving into petty bickering.

Nehemia helped Elide push Vaughan off and reassured her, “Don’t worry – they’re always like this.”

“The first few months were unbearable,” Aelin grumbled, scowling at her boyfriend who remained oblivious. “We were all in the same dorm and they fought constantly.”

“What changed?”

“Please, don’t tell the story,” came another voice, deep and rumbling, and Lorcan came strolling out, in a pair of shorts and a band tee. He shoved Vaughan from the couch and sat next to Elide, nodding to her drink as he stretched his arms around the back of the couch, “Whatcha got there, princess?”

Elide rolled her eyes at the nickname, “Gin and ice. What’s this story?”

He groaned, dropping his head back. “I hate this story.” The boys chorused their agreement as Aelin exclaimed, moving to seat herself in Rowan’s lap. Everyone exchanged looks and scooted away from the affectionate couple.

“But I love this story.” Aelin pouted at him and Lorcan caved, waving his hand.

“Let’s hear it then.”

The afternoon bled into evening and then night, the sun setting and bathing Lorcan in golden and orange light. His arm had fallen down around her shoulders and she was tucked up into his side, his arm a welcome weight around her.

They had talked about everything, exchanging stories about everyone in rounds. It was Lorcan’s turn and they turned to Elide, waiting for something. Lorcan nudged her when she didn’t say anything, staring up at him in a soft silence. “El. Your turn.”

“Oh,” she sat up straighter, her side prickling at the loss of contact. He laughed quietly and pressed a kiss to the side of her head, tugging her back down. “A couple months before we got together, I was on this case and I fell asleep in the middle of the night in my office. I don’t even know why Lorcan was still there, but he woke me up and carried me to my car and drove me home.” Elide tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, running her finger over the rim of her copper mug. “And then he carried me to my apartment and put me to bed. It was really sweet and… nice.”

Elide was sure her cheeks were flushed as she grew warm and hid her face in Lorcan’s side as they teased him for going ‘soft’.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

When Elide yawned yet again, Lorcan stood up and picked her up, “Night, guys. Gotta get my girl to bed.” She smiled sleepily at ‘my girl’ and nuzzled closer to him, softly sighing into his neck as they said goodnight and he carried her through the house to their room, gently putting her on the bed. “Princess, where’s your pj’s?”

She didn’t open her eyes, pointing randomly, “Bag. Big one.”

Huffing a laugh, Lorcan opened her bag, pulling out a pair of sweats and crewneck with the logo from her university. As he moved back to her side, he commented, “Always thought you were a satin and lace nightie type of gal.”

Elide cracked open an eye. “You think about what I sleep in? That’s not very professional,” she teased him, a cheeky glint in her eyes as she sat up and took the clothes from him, her movements stuttering as his smile dropped and he took a too-large step back.

“There’s a lot of not professional things about this, Elide.”

Her face fell and she nodded, standing and moving to the bathroom without another word.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Walking out, she found him shirtless, sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. Elide padded over to him, hesitantly reaching out and resting her hand on his shoulder. “Are you ok?”

Lorcan laughed harshly and moved away from her hand, “Am I ok? What do you think, Elide? You’re blackmailing me and making me lie to my entire family.” He stood up and began pacing as she slowly sat, her hands in her lap. “And, the thing is, we aren’t even in the clear! I could go to fucking prison for you and ruin everything I’ve worked for.”

“I’m—”

“You don’t even seem to care,” he spat, glaring at her. “What, is this just another Monday for you? What is so bad in Terrasen that you can’t move back there?”

Her head was tilted down and she wiped her eyes, sniffling once. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand, Lorcan, but you’re not the only person who’s had a hard life.”

She felt so small sitting there, her vision blurring. So very small and alone.

The bed dipped as he sat down next to her and awkwardly wrapped an arm around her, nothing like when they were outside with his friends. Elide half-wondered what had changed and as reality crashed down around her, she stood like his touch burned her and moved without word to her side, crawling in and turning on her side away from him.

It had all been for show.

Gods, she was an idiot.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

@mythicaitt @tinywolfofeyllwe @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @westofmoon @empire-of-wildfire @rhysands-highlady @city-of-fae @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tangledraysofsunshine @ttakeitbacknoww @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere e @queenofxhearts @maastrash @mynewdreamwasyou @superspiritfestival @yikesitsmaddie @flowerspringsea @queen-of-glass @sleeping-and-books s @b00kworm @bat-wing-rhys @poisonous00 @empress-ofbloodshed @feyrethedarklady @gorl-power @keshavomit @ifinallygavein let me know if you want to be added/removed from the tag list!

#too late to turn back now #tlttbn chapter five #the proposal au #elorcan #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #isa writes #nalgenewhore

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