#if anyone wants to turn this into coherent thoughts be my guest i’m busy making tea

[ceaseless-watchers-special-girl]

hmmmm…..

yo i think arun was onto something

[pleasantanathema]

Reiner Braun | Instinctual Invitations

Pairing: Reiner Braun x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)

Warnings: ABO Dynamics (Alpha Reiner x Omega Reader), Breeding, Marking, Mating, Knotting, Heats, Ruts, Frenemies to Lovers

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Part of my Nine Muses Event to celebrate 9k! Follow the link to read other fanfics I’m writing to celebrate. This was definitely a labor of love. I’ve fallen back into my appreciation for ABO dynamics, and Reiner just screams “perfect mate” to me. 💜

          No one made suppressants stronger than Hange. They never divulged just what was in their special concoction, but all you knew was that it was damn near impossible for someone to discern that you were an Omega.

           You’d even fooled that naive, arrogant, hubristic Alpha partner of yours for years. There was a particular disdain you held for Reiner. You could never really name it, but all you knew was that working with the giant man made your instincts sour. He seemed so good on the outside, all prideful charm and heavy pats on the shoulders of his peers, but when the two of you worked cases alone, his charisma always had a bite to it.

           Maybe it was because he could tell there was something equally off about his “Beta” partner, maybe it was because he had some pent up rage inside him he only let seep out around you. You didn’t know, you didn’t care. You were patiently waiting for him to be re-assigned to the Behavioral Science Unit like he’d requested last month, but Erwin’s dawdling with the request had you worried he wasn’t about to separate his most successful Scout partners, even if they didn’t get along.

           “Is my bow tie straight?”

          Reiner asked you to hold his drink while he fiddled with the offending cloth.

           “Yeah.”

           “You didn’t even look.”

           The whiskey from his glass was expensive, sliding down smooth when you took a drink. Rei let out a very frustrated noise, so loud and huffy it had the guests of the award ceremony glancing toward him. The hotel ballroom was crowded, filled with elites from Military Police, Scouts, even the fucking Garrison. There were too many people here to watch you and Reiner stumble over the acceptance speech; there were too many people here to judge that Scouts were being awarded this time around.

           “Now your fucking lipstick is all over it.”

           “Oh please, it tastes like cherries, you’ll get over it.”

           Both of you were nervous, flattered but timid about being given a Meritorious Achievement Award for all your fieldwork done killing and documenting titans around the outer-wilds of the city. Fighting for survival in the trees was less stressful than trying to make a good impression on the brass as you received one of the highest honors.

           You took another gulp of his drink before passing it back, trying to stave off the very worrisome nerves twisting in your gut. Sweat was forming at the nape of your neck, staining your palms. You shifted uncomfortably in your heels, feet feeling heavy.

           It made you feel some better that the usually proud Alpha next to you was just as worried about giving a speech in front of Dhalis Zachary. The Premier was known for being strict, for demanding that military appearance be of the highest standard in front of donors.

          Reiner was still fucking with his tie, angry muscles about to rip the threads of his tuxedo.

          “You look fine,” you sighed, toning back the bitterness. You moved away from the balcony railing, wrapping your fingers around the black polyester ribbon and tightening it into sitting straight under his square jaw. But for some reason, you couldn’t let go, nails gripping into the fabric.

          “Are you okay? You looked scared to shit,” Reiner plucked your hands off his tie, holding a wrist in each burning hand, “I can do all the talking, you know. You can just stand there and look pretty.”

          “Y-yeah, I’m fine.” You weren’t. You knew this feeling, it was old and familiar, a churning pain laced with need slowly brewing in your belly, making you sick.

          But your suppressants would take care of the issue, surely it was just your nerves that were making those heats you’d forsaken start to claw at you.

          You hadn’t gone through a heat cycle in three years. Hange had suggested you take time off once a year to let your body go through it’s natural process, but you’d been so damn busy that you’d neglected to do so. Besides, you never had any issues, just a few flare ups when a particularly good looking Alpha close to their rut got near you.

          This time was different, though, you could feel it. This flame wasn’t going to be extinguished once it got started—you’d have to go home after the gala and curl up, stop taking the suppressants in the morning so your heat could come to life in the next few days.

          God you dreaded that feeling, cunt always quivering and squeezing around nothing, sweating in a blanket nest that only carried your scent and maybe a lingering, nameless male scent from a one-night stand.

          “Hey,” Rei moved his hands to rest on your shoulders, shaking you, “get your shit together. We’ll be awarded in a few hours and then we can go the fuck home. Tired of being around your bitchy ass anyways.”

          His hands were too hot. They were sweaty like yours, making you feel dizzy.

          “I’m gonna be sick.”

          You could feel it. Reiner could smell it.

          “What the fuck is wrong with y—”

          He dropped the last syllable, golden eyes turning into molten amber the moment your scent hit him full force. You thought he’d take his hands off, that he’d give you some space, but those instincts to protect must have taken over because he was pulling you closer like that would help.

          “You’re a Beta, you don’t go into—”

          “Omega, Rei. I’m a fucking Omega and I don’t need you telling anyone about it.”

          You whispered your confession, eyes going glassy as you looked around the room, saw faces turning in your direction. Most of the old men here were mated, but that didn’t mean the building brew of the heat of an unmarked Omega wouldn’t catch their attention. Your neck throbbed, scent glands betraying you and pumping beneath your skin.

          You felt like clawing at Reiner’s chest, digging your fingers into the perfectly pressed designer shirt and burying your face into it to be overwhelmed by Alpha presence. You thought you could stave this off, but the nerves, this proximity to an Alpha...you needed to get the fuck out of here.

          “You’re going to have to take the award for-for both of us,” oh now you were stuttering, you were losing it, Reiner’s deeply masculine scent making you feel like a puddle. You hated these instincts, hated how it made you feel weak, hated how he smelled like the most inviting bakery and familiarity and how it made you want to fall to your knees and beg for the aching hole between your legs to be stuffed.

          “You can’t get home on your own, do you know how many Alphas would kill for—”

          You were pulling away from him, grabbing your purse so you could scrounge for those emergency suppressants to hopefully curtail this heat.

          The pills were absent, your resolve fading as you felt like crumpling into the floor and clutching your stomach. You knew people were starting to notice, noses in the air to find out where the overly sweet smell of an Omega was coming from.

          “I don’t need your help.”

          “Who else knows?” You didn’t like how the rumble of his voice made your skin tingle, made your panties feel too tight, wet.

          “Hange, Levi, the higher ups. They know, they saw it on my app-application. Said it would be…” you were starting to lose your train of coherent thoughts.

          “...best if no one knew?”

          Omegas were scarce. Omegas were weak. But you’d proven yourself in your training, you were too valuable for Commander Erwin to deny your approval into the Scouts.

          “Just—just tell people I got sick. That the stupid little shrimp hors d'oeuvres... f-fuck me,” you meant to say something else, something like they fucked with me, but all you could think about was how those strong hands felt on your shoulders and how they would feel so good pawing at your hips as he plowed into you to relieve your stress.

          Making a beeline out of the ornate, crowded ballroom, you had to excuse yourself as you bumped into a few backs and sides, stumbling over your feet as the clawing need in your stomach made you lose focus. You just had to get home. Grab a cab. Hope it’s not an Alpha driving, just get home to your nesting pillows and bury your fingers into your—

          Reiner was calling your name. If he was your Alpha you’d be stopping in your tracks to listen to his commands, but he wasn’t. He was your terrible, annoying...strong, capable, definitely had a fat cock…

          You didn’t know what you were thinking about when he finally caught up to you, pushing you outside the front doors. You wished it was winter, but it was a hot summer night, which just made the heat in your body worse, made your scent heavier, floating on the humidity. And there were people around, lobby boys taking in bags and tired families dragging their feet inside. Still the fresh air felt good, or at least it did, until Reiner invaded it with his scent again.

          “I’ll get you home,” he placed his hand on your lower back, palm touching bare, tender skin from the low cut of your dress, and you came undone. You pressed yourself into his thick chest, wrapping your arms around him and fisting them into the back of his shirt. You could hear him grunt at the contact, the two of you never the type of partners to go beyond a pat on the back or a punch to the arm.

          “N-not gonna make it home…”

          “Fucking shit I always knew there was something different about you.”

          He was dragging you back into the hotel, firm hand around your wrist.

          “I can’t help how I was born.”

          “Yeah but you could have fucking told me.”

          You quit your bickering as Reiner paid for a hotel room, you pressed to his side and trying to mask the scent of ripe, ready to fuck Omega underneath simmering Alpha. You snatched the key card on the counter from a very concerned concierge, listening but not really as she explained there were special rates for those in heat.

          “I didn’t want you to know.”

          People were staring now, the smell of Omega becoming so heavy it even bothered you. Rei tucked his arm around your waist, leading you toward the elevators. There was a sour, thirsty taste in your mouth as you listened to your heels clink upon the marbled floor. The scent of arousal was on him, but it wasn’t his fault, just his biology reacting to yours.

          You straightened your shoulders as you saddled up next to him in the elevator, watching the doors slowly close.

          “Reiner—”

          “Shut up.”

          He was on you in an instant, heavy body pressing you into the mirrored wall.

          “I should have known,” his voice was low, like he was divulging a secret, “a little Omega under my nose all long.”

          You gasped as one of his hands skimmed up your thigh, thumb swirling circles upon your skin.

          “D-don’t do this here, I can’t—” you couldn’t take it, you were putty in his hands, already looping a leg around his thigh and fussing with the buttons on his shirt. You needed to feel his skin, needed to drown in the scent of an Alpha.

          You were half way through peeling his shirt off his pectorals, that goddamn bowtie still in place, when your throat began to hurt. Reiner actually laughed at you when you paused your hasty undressing, having to cradle the left side of your neck as your scent glands throbbed, begging for teeth to be sunk into the sensitive skin to be marked, claimed.

          “Don’t you dare think about m-marking me,” god you wouldn’t be able to stop stuttering until you were stuffed with something, until you were able to chase away the aches before they returned again in a few hours.

          “But isn’t that what little Omegas want?” He was toying with you, grin so cocky you felt like sinking your thumbs into his smile and hurting him. His fingers were under your dress, dangerously close to your aching sex. His hand was so hot against your skin, so calloused and strong. You felt like Icarus, like you were flying too close to the sun. The pad of his index finger curled against your panties and you could have sworn you were already burning.

          You lifted your lips to catch his, only to have him turn his cheek as the elevator chimed, signaling your arrival to your floor.

          You followed in his steps, tracing your dress hem from where his giant palm had touched it, your fingers moving it even higher to try to alleviate the warmth stemming from between your legs. The keycard was heavy in your hand, like it was about to open a door to something wicked.

          “I-I can take care of this myself,” your placed your back against the door to your room, “and I’ll pay you back for the fees, just let me—”

          “Just let you what? Go fuck yourself in misery for the next five days?”

          God he looked so tempting, so big. He towered over you, scents of sex and earth and spice, like black cardamum and the bitter burn of peppers. You wanted to sink your fingers into his blonde hair and pull, pull him down to you, into you.

          But you reminded yourself you’d be patiently waiting for him to leave your life. Mating with him could have him sticking around, could have the two of you fucking up and getting attached.

          “Y-you have to accept the award,” you were literally slipping into the floor, gut twisting so badly that it felt like you were being ripped apart, your heat bursting into full bloom after his teasing touches. Reiner caught your upper arms to keep you up, making you whimper, and you knew the last thing you wanted was to be alone, even if it meant ruining yourself on Reiner’s cock.

          “Your scent has made me harder than I’ve ever been in my fucking life. I paid for the room because I’m staying in it, sweetheart.”

          He took the card from your weak fingers and shoved it into the reader, a big, heavy palm pressing against your stomach and pushing you into the open doorway. He kept his fingers on you, twisting his knuckles into the fabric of your dress.

          “Rei, don’t—”

          “I’m so fucking tired of playing games with you.”

          The threads snapped with a twist of his wrist, the delicate front of your dress parting as the heavy hotel door slammed shut. His hands were rough, quick, tearing and pawing at your dress, your bra, and all you could do was moan and kick your heels off to be forgotten on the floor.

          He pulled his crisp black jack off his shoulders, tossing it onto a desk chair, trousers and everything underneath following.

          “I-I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” You were already on him, pressing your naked chest to his and standing on your toes so you could bury your face into his neck. You couldn’t help but to purr, that soothing musk of Alpha encompassing all your senses. Fingers sunk into his body, your tongue hot against his skin as you laid kitten licks to his throat.

          “No wonder I can’t stand you,” Reiner’s hands were gliding down your back, admiring smooth, willing flesh, “why you make me fucking crazy.”

          “Please shut up and fuck me.”

          His tempting hands found your neck, thumb petting at the sore, pounding spot on your throat. It only made your scent stronger, made you keen and practically fall into him.

          “Kiss me first, like you mean it.”

          You didn’t have to be told twice.

          Any fight you had left dissipated when his tongue slipped into your mouth, hands still encased around your neck and keeping you pliant for him to taste. Your nails sunk into his shoulders, toes hurting from strain as you pushed your mouth up into his. God he tasted so good, like the first taste of food after starving, and your body had been starving for years. Unknotted, unmarked, your body was screaming for him, looking for an Alpha to fill you in ways that your measly attempts over the years never could.

          Violence was on the tip of his tongue, you could taste it, feel it in the way he started to squeeze the delicate column of your throat. Rut was kicking in, the overwhelming pheromones of Omega making his body respond, ready to knot, ready to devour.

          Slick was pouring down your thighs as you kissed him, body overly ready for him. Your stomach was twisting in coils, so painful that it made you gasp and pull away from his kiss, ready to fall into the floor if his hands didn’t keep you on your feet.

          “H-hurts, so, so bad,” you whined, trying to focus your breathing.

          Reiner started slowly moving you back toward the bed, thumbs now petting at the apples of your cheeks as tears started to form in your lower lashes.

          “Shh, shh, it’s okay, Alpha will take care of you.”

          Normally, the thought of Rei referring to himself as Alpha would repulse you, make you gag at how arrogant he was, but in this moment it made you so weak, made you moan as he crawled over your body on the bed. You were so little under him, dwarfed by brawn, small prey begging to be snatched and taken.

          His title was on the front of your mouth, ready to fall out, for you to call him what he was to you, but the sliver of sense you had left kept it at bay. You knew calling him Alpha could put you in a heat induced headspace you might not be able to come out of, might have you making lusty, hasty decisions that you’d regret once this god forsaken heat was over.

          “Rei-ner,” it was forced, he could tell, the syllables stuck to your tongue.

          He nuzzled into your neck, purring as he fell into the intoxication of your scent glands. Hands raked over your body, each touch jolting you like electricity, the webs of nerves under your skin coming alive as he toyed with you. Your legs spread instinctively to make room for his hips, but he kept his weight off of you, propping himself on his elbows.

          “So fucking perfect,” he mused, thumb trailing along your swollen lips, smearing the lipstick he’d complained about earlier, “should’ve told me sooner. I would’ve fucked you through every heat.”

          His words made you coo, made your fingers weave into his blonde hair and pull him down for another kiss. You couldn’t get enough of his taste, whiskey and fire and something sickenly sweet, like pure honey over powdered sugar. Reiner was still holding back, you could practically feel growls stuck in his chest when your hands eagerly wandered over his plush pectorals.

          So big. He’d be such a good protector. Such a good mate.

          “Need you, need you, Rei, p-please,” you shifted your hips as you spoke, ready to flip onto your stomach so he could take you from behind. It’s how you got through all the heats you ever had before; face down in pillows, letting some Alpha fuck you senseless like nature intended. But his hands stilled you, pinned you down below him.

          “Wanna watch your face as I take what’s mine.”

          The tips of your ears felt scorched from his words and the blood in your body flushed under your skin.

          His. You wanted to be his, fuck, you wanted your Alpha, needed him, need him to knot you and—

          “Take me, f-fuck, I hurt so bad,” you were crying again, the pain in your womb like a knife sawing through flesh, twisting and turning.

          “Gonna take such good care of you.”

          And you knew he would. That’s the way Reiner was. A protector. A provider. Arrogant to mask the sweetness, prideful to hide the humility.

          Big hands cupped your cheeks as his cockhead brushed through your folds, sending your neck flying back as you screamed just from the relief of feeling him spread your overheated slick.

          “Gonna fill you to the brim with my cum.”

          That broke you. Your last little grip on your sanity was remembering that Hange’s suppressants didn’t mix well with birth control. You hadn’t been on the pill for years, and with how strong this heat was, how repressed your body had felt, you were probably more fertile than you’d ever been.

          “Fuck,” your hands found his face, and when he looked at you, you sailed away in the gold currents of his gaze, “breed me.”

          His massive cock started to sink into your tight hole, the copious amounts of slick gushing from inside of you making his penetration easier. But even still, he was so engorged with blood and hormones ready to knot that his fat cock struggled to breach that first tight ring of muscle. You hissed, not from pain, but from relief, so ready to be full that no amount of stretching would detract from your pleasure.

          Heavy hands were on your hips, pulling you down to take all of him in. He was finally growling, your walls constricting around him and making him go absolutely mad.

          “Gonna breed you, Omega, give you my babies, f-fuck yes, have you dripping with cum.”

          The blinding pleasure was almost devastating, making you feel numb, making you feel like this was all you ever needed in the whole goddamn world—all you needed was Reiner’s cock to bring you rapture, to have you ascending to the holy planes that zealots coveted.

          “Move,” it was a quick plea, your legs curling around his waist in encouragement, “please, please fuck me, breed me.”

          He started a slow pace, but was enough to have you spiraling, eyes fluttering shut as you got lost in him. One of his hands swatted at your cheek, just enough to sting.

          “Eyes open. Watch me, be with me.”

          You tried your best to obey, but the drumming of his cock in your cunt had you seeing dark spots even as your eyes opened again. Reiner kept his hand on your face, locking it around your jaw so you watched him as he fucked you, his beautiful, defined cheekbones tinted pink as he became overwhelmed with his rut.

          How many times had you looked at him before? How many days had you spent working alongside him, doing your best to avoid looking at him? He got under your skin, made you feel weak. Maybe this was why, maybe you were repressing just how much you wanted him. Maybe he was meant to be your—

          “Alpha,” you breathed it out, let it fan over his ears, let it sink into his psyche.

          The word felt like a relief, like a sin. That attachment you feared was already caging you in.

          His pace kicked up to something brutal as you acknowledged not just his biology, but his title to you.

          You screamed so loudly that it hurt, had your throat burning as your moans bled into whines and mewls as he took from your willing cunt.

          A cacophony of sex filled the hotel room, the sound of primal grunts, shrill little screams, of flesh against flesh, balls slapping against your ass, his cock ramming into your squelching, drooling pussy.

          “That’s right, fuck, you’re mine, Omega. Mine.” He repeated the last word a few more times as he bent your legs farther back, straddling your thighs with his muscular legs as he folded you into a mating press. His cock began to stroke that sweet, spongy spot inside of you at the new angle, drilling into you at just the right curve to have you cumming before your body could even enjoy the build up.

          You shattered, cunt clenching and as you were so pleased to orgasm around a thick Alpha cock. You were babbling nonsense, even thanking him for letting you cum. Just a string of pleas and AlphaAlphaAlpha pouring off your tongue and melting into his sweaty skin.

          Your orgasm had your scent fresh in the room, had your neck fucking pounding with the need to be bitten, to be claimed.

          Reiner could smell it, could smell your insatiable need, instincts picking up on words you just couldn’t say.

          “Let me have you,” he demanded it between kisses to your shoulder, lips trailing up and stopping at the saccharine reek of your scent glands just below your jaw.

          He wouldn’t claim you without permission, he wasn’t that kind of man, wasn’t that kind of Alpha.

          You fell into a symphony of moans, neck tilting back in instinctual insinuation, but mouth still unwilling to make that plea. But then his scent overwhelmed you again, like spicy hot peppers and the sweetest sugar flooding over your body. You knew that scent by heart, had smelled it in smaller increments every day for years, had tried to ignore it, but now you couldn’t.

          His cock was swelling inside of you, his ruthless pace and your lingering orgasm edging him closer to release. The hand on your hip had bruised your skin, perfect indent of his palm, his long fingers, etched into your skin. The other was pulling at your neck, pushing your face to the side as he skimmed the bridge of nose along your skin, waiting, wanting.

          “Omega,” he purred, calling you, begging you, “please, yours, mine.”

          He was losing his thoughts too, drowning in instincts and euphoria.

          Your fingers laced in his hair, pulling his mouth closer to what he wanted.

          “Yours, Alpha, f-fuck,” your acceptance was loud and clear, even through the fog and sounds of sex. One bite was all it took, teeth barely sinking into your skin. You cried from how good it felt, that ache finally silenced as his tongue lapped over that patch on your neck that could now only belong to him.

          A bond was tightening, something scientists still couldn’t fully explain—being marked, claimed, it tethered you to someone beyond all comprehension. It was like making a deal with a devil, selling your soul, and for you, it was an admittance to attraction and acceptance of intimacy that you felt with Reiner.

          The act of marking had his cock swelling inside you, knotting you and spilling his seed into your depths to stay. That overbearing fullness had you tumbling over the orgasmic mountain again, had you clinging and screaming, colors you’d never fucking seen before bursting in the corners of your eyes and traveling over your body like fireworks. You shivered in his arms, quaked, fell apart, and he held you. Purring, comforting, like he’d finally brought you home.

          Time didn’t seem to exist, lines between pleasure and pain so blurred that you couldn’t even feel the burn in your legs from being spread open for so long. You stayed in that mating press for what felt like hours. Reiner kept kissing at your neck, letting his scent blend in with yours.

          You’d never smell the same again. You’d always be tainted with him, carry bits of his scent with you forever. The thought didn’t even bother you, just brought you comfort, made you purr as your fingers lazily threaded through his hair.

          Finally, his cock became soft enough for him to pull out of you, lines of cum dripping from your abused pussy as he fell on his back next to you.

          The love hormones kicked in, had you curling around him even as you stretched out weary muscles. You were ready to sleep, ready to rest until the next wave of your heat came in a few hours and had you pleading for him again.

          But a pesky thought plagued your mind, a jealous one, one you’d never had about another Alpha before.

          How many other Omegas had wanted what was yours? How many of them had Reiner denied a claim to before you?

          “Why me?” you murmured into his heaving chest, fingertips drawing aimless circles in his downy chest hair.

          “Could ask you the same thing.”

          You sat up to look at him, to let him cup your cheek as his eyes flickered over your face.

          “How many Alphas have wanted you?”

          There was solace in knowing he had the same questions.

          “Haven’t had a heat since I met you.”

          Concern flashed across his face, that intensity you were used to seeing in his brow coming to life.

          “You won’t do that again.”

          His command made you feel warm, had your belly already pulling and churning and wanting again.

          “I won’t. Because even though you’re a shitty partner, you’re my mate.”

          That realization swept over him hard and fast, a range of emotions painting his features before he settled on a smile.

          His thumb petted your skin, bringing you in for a kiss.

          “You’re the only award I needed tonight.”

[blackkatmagic]

Could I please request a drabble with Mace meeting Jaster? Time travel shenanigans would be loved and heart-eyed, but are not required.

“A Jedi is hiring a Mandalorian for a job?” Jaster asks, one brow raised, and can't help the thread of incredulity that creeps into his voice. “Perhaps you're confused, Jetii, but our people have been enemies for millennia.”

“I'm well aware,” the Jedi says, unmoving. Jaster has, admittedly, never been quite this close to a Jedi, and he can't help but be faintly impressed at the man’s stoneface, particularly given the bright-eyed Chalactan girl peering around his side. Her hands are hooked into his sash without any apparent fear of being shaken off, or any apparent concern for her Master’s dignity, and Jaster finds himself reluctantly amused despite the man’s temerity.

“Oh?” Jaster asks, leaning back in his chair. His blaster is within easy reach, and the Jedi is far enough away that Jaster has the advantage. “Bold of you to approach me with a job offer, then.”

“Is it?” the man asks, and reaches up, folding his hood back. Jaster stills, startled, because he hadn’t thought there were Korun Jedi—Myles has always been very insistent that the Korun people have their own Force traditions, and outsiders aren’t welcome to step into them. He’s a handsome one, too, tall and broad shouldered, with a lean strength to him that even the loose, comfortable robes can't hide. Steady, he meets Jaster's eyes, and says, low, “It seems to me, Mand’alor, that our status as enemies means no one will suspect me of having hired you.”

Ah, Jaster thinks, smiling. Like that, is it. He hums, then says, “Jango, who don’t you show this lovely padawan the gardens? I'm sure she would like to see them.”

“What?” Jango demands, outraged the way only a fourteen-year-old can be. “Buir, I'm not leaving—”

Jaster levels a pointed look at his son, and his mouth snaps shut. He scowls, deep and affronted, and crosses his arms over his chest. “You shouldn’t be meeting with a Jedi alone,” he says grumpily. “Myles is going to yell at you.”

“Myles will survive,” Jaster says, though it’s likely true. “Master Jedi, I hope you don’t object to speaking privately.”

“Of course not,” the Jedi says, perfectly calm, and glances down at his padawan. “Depa. Be polite.”

That is, Jaster reflects wryly, an incrediblyfamiliar tone of voice. He’s willing to bet the girl gets herself into almost as much trouble as Jango, given how practiced it sounds.

And, on cue, the girl beams up at her Master without hesitation. “I'm always polite, Master Mace,” she protests, perfectly, wickedly innocent. Mace doesn’t answer, just sighs, and Depa laughs, rising up on her tiptoes. She hauls him down, no thought given to dignity, and plants a loud, showy kiss on his cheek, then hops back two steps and turns that smile on Jango, who freezes like he was just dipped in carbonite, his eyes going wide.

She is, Jaster thinks with amusement, a very pretty girl. He wonders how quickly Jango will manage to stick his foot in his mouth this time. Within ten minutes, judging by last time. Jaster doesn’t precisely have high hopes for their interaction, but at least this isn't the daughter of a high-profile client that Jango is going to offend. The Jedi needs them, not the other way around, and given Jedi morals, he likely won't turn to the Death Watch the instant he’s insulted.

“Depa,” Mace says, a warning, but Depa ignores it, grinning at Jango and folding her hands behind her.

“I would love to see the garden,” she says cheerfully. “Jango, was it?”

“Jango Fett,” Jango says, only a little mulishly, and takes a careful step forward, like he’s worried she’s going to bite him. “It’s this way, I guess.”

He couldn’t sound less enthusiastic if he tried. Jaster rather suspects he is.

As the door slides shut behind their two witnesses, though, Jaster's amusement fades slightly, and he turns his gaze on Mace, narrow and thoughtful as he considers the man, his presence on Mandalore, the quiet, entirely understated way he arrived.

“This isn't a mission from the Jedi Order,” he says, weighing. “I might even go so far as to say they have no idea of your presence here.”

“They don’t,” Mace says bluntly. “I'm here on my own business, and acting on information the Jedi Council isn't privy to.” There's a pause, and then a rueful curve just touches one corner of his mouth. “Believe me, Mand’alor. I do not go behind the Council’s back easily. This is vital, and I'm willing to provide the funds to prove it.”

Jaster smiles, a little humorless, a little thin. He’s not fond of being played, and this sounds very much like Mace is trying. “I have plenty of credits, Master Jedi. Why should I find yours any more appealing than anyone else’s?”

Mace doesn’t hesitate this time, just raises his chin. “Because I have something that is far more valuable than credits,” he says calmly. “I can provide you with information.”

It is, Jaster will admit, a tempting prospect, but he’s still wary. “Jedi information? Access to the Archives, perhaps? If I wanted dry Jedi tomes on political law—”

“No,” Mace interrupts, flat, and takes two steps forward, until he’s right across Jaster's desk. “Far more important and immediate information. Such as the name of the traitor who will kill you. And the location of Jango Fett's older sister.”

Jaster freezes, hardly daring to breathe. Arla was gone by the time he’d made it back to the Fett homestead on Concord Dawn, and no trace of her has ever surfaced. Jaster has been looking, because Jango speaks of her endlessly, but—

“That,” he rasps, voice half-caught in his throat, “could be considered blackmail, Master Jedi.”

Mace tips his head. “Proof of my desperation,” he says, and there's no self-consciousness to it, just blunt honesty. A pause, and then he says, faintly rueful, “I’ll give you her location whether you take the job or not. The Death Watch has her.”

Jaster was afraid of that. He breathes out, slow, careful, and—the willingness to offer up half of his bargaining chips makes him more inclined to trust Mace, even if a flicker of wariness still remains. “And the job is?”

Mace doesn’t waver, doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t flinch. “I want you to assassinate the senior senator from Naboo. Sheev Palpatine. He’s a Sith apprentice.”

Of all the things that Jaster was expecting, that most certainly wasn’t among them.

It takes him a long moment to scrape together a coherent response, another still to get the words right. “Apprentice,” he echoes. “Usually, an apprentice follows a master. Who is the Sith Master, then?”

“A scientist and a banker,” Mace says coolly. “Palpatine is the more dangerous target, and a better duelist. I can handle the Master, but the apprentice I would leave to someone more adept at assassinations.”

It would hardly be the first time the Mandalorians have been hired for such a thing, and Jaster is more than willing to do it. Knowing that Mace will be fighting his own battle allays some of Jaster's fears as well, and he leans on one arm of his chair, considering the man.

“A fraught mission,” he says, “on both parts. You have a plan, I assume.”

If anything, Mace looks amused at that. “The Jedi do not plan,” he says, a trace of humor in the words. “I trust the Force to see me through, however. And as I am training Depa, I will have all the time I need to see things through.”

Jedi, Jaster thinks, and doesn’t roll his eyes. Quite. “And would you care to tell me where you got this information, Master Jedi? Particularly about a traitor within the ranks of the True Mandalorians. I must admit that one surprises me.”

Mace is silent for another moment. “From the future,” he finally offers. “I traveled back with the help of a Force nexus. In the time I came from, the True Mandalorians were wiped out, and the Sith won.”

Something cold slides down Jaster's spine, and he rises slowly, comes to his feet to face the Jedi. Mace meets his eyes, holds his gaze, and—

He looks tired, Jaster thinks, calculating, considering. Tired in a bone-deep, weary way that Jaster had managed to miss before, buried as it was by his determination. Traveled back from the future, through time itself, and Jaster didn’t know such a thing was possible.

Not possible for most people, he thinks, watching Mace. And not optimal even for this one.

“Very well,” he says after a long minute of silence. “But on the condition that you stay here and provide your information throughout the mission. I won't have a Sith kill my men because you think you have better things to do.”

The relief that slides over Mace's expression is subtle, but—Jaster catches it easily. “Agreed,” he says. “We will rely on your hospitality, Mand’alor.”

“Jaster, please,” Jaster says, and moves around the end of his desk, taking Mace's arm. Muscled, he thinks, and that’s likely a good sign. Not a useless Jedi, hopefully. Not if he’s certain he can take on a Sith. “I think the use of first names is allowable now that you're my guest.”

“You have a liberal interpretation of guest,” Mace says dryly, but he doesn’t pull away as Jaster leads him out of the office, and Jaster is willing to count it as a win.

[On AO3]

[mymegumi]

cœur fidèle

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x fem!reader

genre: fluff, minor angst, childhood bestfriends au, royalty au, and friends to lovers

word count: 2.1k words

warnings: mainly ushijima’s thoughts, not a lot of dialogue/actions. fluff & sad ideals about unrequited love.

summary: he wants to make a life with you, and yet you’re meant to build a life as someone else’s lover.

notes: i’m almost positive this isn’t coherent bc i’m just rambling <3 also the end was rushed as fuck so sorreh bout that <3

dedicated: to thalia, may you continue making me and everyone else around you smile. ( @wak4tosh1 )

Royalty, by definition, are those of royal blood or status. A league above normal people, and meant for wealth and luxuries that people would only dream of even seeing with their own eyes. It’s a life of luxury, of people to work at your beck and call, and of never truly worrying unless you had to.

Why does Ushijima feel so empty then?

A prince in his early twenties, he’s in the prime of his life—a father that loves him unconditionally, friends by his side that love and value him for things other than his title and wealth, and even a hobby he can do when things feel so suffocating he can’t come up for air.

He’s grateful for everything he has, don’t get him wrong, but it’s always felt a bit… lonely somehow.

Ushijima, as the heir to a king’s throne, knows the weight his decisions will make on the kingdom his father’s built up, and yet he can’t help but wonder about what kind of life he could have had if he’d just been born from a peasant woman. Would his life be so much more insignificant than it was now?

He thinks the first time he really truly wondered about a life without a crown, a life without power and influence, was when he met you for the first time.

A princex from a neighboring kingdom, you were everything that Ushijima wasn’t.

Where he was more reserved, tending to keep his thoughts and opinions to himself, it seemed as if you were always willing to give yours. You were bright and beautiful in all the ways that Ushijima tried to keep himself in the shadows, the brightest star on a black sky.

When he first saw you, he thought you were otherworldly. An ethereal being at the ripe age of fourteen and his cheeks dappled with heat, but he thinks that this is what ladies in the court meant when they talked about love.

Ushijima is only fourteen, and yet when you pull on his hand to tug him into the gardens, laughter on the wind and sunshine beating down on your backs, he thinks about the love beginning to blossom in his chest without knowing the word for it.

It’s warmth on a summer day, and the way you smile at him when he says something snarky about the other royals.

“Ushijima!” you called to him, hand curled around your mouth in an attempt to amplify your voice, trying to get it to carry throughout the courtyard, “I know you can hear me, stop hiding from me!”

“We’re playing hide and seek,” he called back, hands behind his back as he peeks his head out from behind the tree he’d chosen as his hiding spot, “You’re ruining the point of the game, you’re supposed to seek, and I was supposed to hide.”

Your bottom lip jutted out, arms crossed across your chest as you walked towards him, “Okay, but I didn’t think I’d have to walk around by myself, this is only my first time being here. I don’t even know any of the good hiding spots!”

“Do you want me to show you for the next time you come?” He hadn’t hit his growth spurt at the time of first meeting you, so he’s not yet looking down at you from his height above you. “The best ones are in the kitchen because sometimes the chefs will give me snacks.”

“Snacks?” Your eyes lit up, and Ushijima remembers feeling something in his chest tighten a bit, the smile you gave him was one of the first, and yet he remembers it like it was the most recent, “Okay, let’s go then!”

You grabbed his hand, then, and it was warm, and Ushijima was sure he could do that for the rest of his life.

He asked his father about you, later in the month when you went home, and he just smiled at him. His father put a hand on Ushijima’s head and ruffled his hair. Ushijima didn’t know it back then, but his father was sad, most likely knowing his son lost his heart.

Perhaps it was when he was first learning about marriage and the concept of having a ruler by his side that he realized that feeling he got whenever he was with you meant he was in love with you.

“Are you here for very long?” You tilt your head to the side as you contemplate Ushijima’s father’s question, “We haven’t seen you in a few months, and I’m not sure if Ushijima did, but I certainly missed you, princex.”

Ushijima always misses you when you aren’t around, he decides in his mind.

“I probably have to leave soon,” you respond, hands curled delicately around a porcelain cup that his father had made shortly after he turned eighteen. His country’s colors look good on you, he thinks, “Forgive me for not sending any letters, I’ve found it hard to write lately since my life has been so busy.”

“Yes,” his father smiles, and his face is all Ushijima can concentrate on, because he knows what conversation topic is coming up, “how are the wedding preparations coming along?”

He forgets sometimes. He forgets when you smile at him like he’s the only thing in the room, eyes focused on him and only him. He forgets when you call his name, light with laughter and filled with sunshine. He forgets when you pull at his hands, begging him to dance with you to music that only you can hear, but he always pulls you in, savors the feeling of you pressed against him as you sway together.

He’s always reminded again when he sees the foreign country’s pin claiming you as theirs.

Sometimes he wishes his father had introduced you earlier. That he met you before you were promised to someone else, and yet, he fantasizes about a life where he met you before.

Before what? He laughs to himself bitterly, fork pushing his dinner around the plate as he listens to you talk to his father about your wedding—sometime in the next few months, with blush pink roses and carnations the color of strawberries, even if he knows you hate carnations.

Before you were someone else’s, before you were going to be leaving him, before he could tell you he had loved you for what he thinks is his entire life.

His father told him thinking about ‘what ifs’ only hurts you in the end, and he’s starting to think he was right. In a life filled with expectations in return for nothing, Ushijima supposes he could just settle down with anyone. He won’t be an unloving husband, he’d hate to be what his mother was to his father, and yet, he’s sure he won’t ever be able to give his heart away as willingly.

“Wakatoshi,” god, he hates when you use his first name, and yet it’s worse when you use his last name, because yours will never be the same, “want to walk in the gardens? Your father told me about the renovations he’d done a few months back, I’d love to see them.”

He places his fork and knife over the plate easily, quiet and refined since utensils were one of the first lessons he’d learned, and looks at you, face as neutral as he can make it, “Of course.”

You push back from the table, and fold your hands behind your back, ever the polite guest. Ushijima stands and pushes in the both of your chairs before holding an arm out for you, a polite gesture disguising his desire to hold you as close as he can.

Perhaps most of his life had been spent selfishly hoping for you. In a way that someone in love would, he’s kept his distance from you before, but you’d just barged back in like you were a storm and he was a loosely latched window. He held you at an arm's length away, and you always managed to press as close to him as you could, fighting against his every instinct to turn you away.

He doesn’t mean to monopolize you, not really. Sometimes he just wishes to keep your smile to himself, but he knows you, and when you smile at him the way you do, with a little sparkle in your eye and a tease on your lips, he knows you’re only smiling for him.

He wonders if your betrothed has ever made you smile like he has.

“The roses always look so lovely this time of year,” you muse, both of your shoes clicking in time with his as you make your way to the gardens. A window overlooks the winding green plants, and the cut glass showcases the evening sunset, rainbows splaying across the concrete walls of his father’s castle, “It’s a shame this genus won’t be in bloom when my… wedding is to occur. I’d love to see some Shiratorizawan roses in my bouquet.”

Maybe he’s imagining it, but you sound sad—perhaps it’s only because you won’t have his country’s national flower as a set of your wedding piece, but a man can hope.

“Perhaps we could arrange for a bouquet of dried roses to be set aside for you,” he murmurs, holding the door open for you as you settle into the courtyard, “The scent will be immaculate, and they’ll stay for a good few years.”

Your smile is sweet, but your eyes are sad, he notes.

“Mm,” you pull away from his arm to cradle a wilting rose bloom in your hands, thumbs pressing feather-light against the wilted edges, “I wonder what it would be like to see such gorgeous roses every morning from my balcony. You’re lucky, Wakatoshi.”

“You could,” he says without thinking. A fumble in his normally stoic nature, he tries to cover it with a cough, but you have always been more perceptive of him than he’d like.

He can’t see your face, but he can see the way you release some sort of tension from your shoulders. Dropping the flower, you turn back to him and press a hand to the outside of his arm, “You mean it?”

“Maybe not from a balcony,” he murmurs, hand setting at your waist, his head begins to tip towards you without him even realizing it, “from a kitchen window, perhaps?”

“Overlooking a flower garden, and a vegetable garden?” Your hum is inquisitive, and Ushijima smiles at you, grateful you’re playing along at his fantasy, “Let’s do it, then.”

Oh. Maybe not a fantasy, then.

“Run away with me, ‘Toshi,” your hands reach up, cupping Ushijima’s cheeks as he blinks at you, “I don’t want to get married to anyone that isn’t you.”

“But, my father… I can’t just leave my family like this,” he pulls you into a hug when you sigh against him, thumbs brushing along the highs of his cheeks, “My sister’s not yet ready to take the throne, I can’t just abandon them. What if something happens to father?”

“Your sister’s always wanted to take the throne,” you whisper back, voice tight with desperation, he wants to go with you more than you know, and yet there’s something holding him back, “Let’s go somewhere where we can live like normal people. No crowns, no kingdoms to rule, just you and me.”

“What about your husband?”

You laugh, arms winding around his neck as you press closer to him, “Toshi, darling, don’t think. You’ve always thought too much, just. Let’s just go.”

You rocketed into Ushijima’s life like a shooting star, streaking across his sky without a single thought for the effects you’d leave behind. Yet he can’t help but watch you go.

“Of course.”

The lavender plant that grows along the edges of Ushijima’s house has always offset the harsh pinks of the roses he’d planted underneath the windows. It’s convenient, of course, that his father had left a baby rose bush on his desk the night he left.

“Toshi! The ladies in the town are asking after you again, they want you to come fix the gutters again.”

“I just fixed them last month,” he calls back, back of his hand wiping away the sweat forming on his brow as he looks up. He has to block the sun from his eyes, and your figure is shrouded in shadows instead.

“Mm, perhaps they’re looking for an excuse to see you work again, darling,” you call back, basket in hands as you smile at him. He really will never get tired of your smile, he thinks, “But, while they were distracted talking about you, I managed to sell everything for a little higher price than normal.”

By now, Ushijima has gotten up from the ground and is in front of you, his shadow over your face to block the sun, “My little swindler.”

Your smile loses its intense edge, and instead softens, “Do you ever regret it?”

“Regret what?” He mumbles, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek, “Being with the love of my life?”

“Mm,” you nod, eyes dreamy as he smiles.

“Not even for a second.”

[subterfugespecialist]

I Will Break What Has Broken You

Janus is the heir of a millionaire CEO. He could have anything, anybody he wanted. And he picked Remus. Remus couldn't be happier with what they have. But when they're out one night and Remus runs into his ex, all the unpleasant memories start flooding back.

Written for Day 4 of @dukeceitweek : Free day

AO3 link

Pairing: Dukeceit

Warnings: Past verbal/emotional abuse, deadnaming - though the deadname is not actually typed out, unwanted advances

Word count: 2861

People were usually surprised to hear that Janus was dating Remus.

Janus - the son of old money, an heir to a multi-million dollar business - could have anything and anyone he wanted. All sorts of people threw themselves at his feet, desperate for both his sharp looks and good fortunes.

But Janus didn't want anybody. He wanted Remus. And that sure made Remus feel special.

Janus had been wary about dating. So many people had been after his family's money, after all. But then he met Remus, who didn't care that Janus could afford to buy the movie theater and still insisted their first date be sneaking into as many movies as possible because it was "more fun that way." He didn't care what kind of car Janus drove as long as Remus could drag Janus into the backseat. Who didn't care how many houses Janus owned, as long as they were together. Remus, who looked past his money and liked Janus for his catty, smart personality.

And Janus was utterly taken.

But sure, Janus having money certainly had its perks. Janus would indulge on any random impulse Remus had. Wanted to drop everything and go on a trip without anyone? Janus would treat him to a private jet (Remus was pretty sure they were the top members of the mile-high club at that point). Had the urge to rent a room in the fanciest hotel in Paris just to smoke weed? Sure. Paying for Remus' top surgery? Remus didn't even have to ask for that one. Janus making his birthday present to Roman paying off his entire student loans for his musical theatre degree? Remus was just smitten.

But one of the best parts was getting to be Janus' plus one at parties, where he'd wear his torn up pants with a hole showing his entire thigh and a neon green mesh shirt under his leather jacket. Security guards would try to escort him out before Janus would take him by the hand and kiss his forehead. He would introduce guests to Remus as his boyfriend and they would always do a double-take. Because that must be some sort of joke, right? Janus dating this man? But Janus would take Remus firmly by the waist and glare at them, daring them to actually say anything. And they would put on their pained smiles and complete their pleasantries before rushing off.

They couldn't be happier.

Tonight they were in a sort of underground club in New York. The music was so loud you could hardly hear yourself speak, and most people there this late in the night were too intoxicated to be coherent.

It was one of Remus' favorite places.

Remus was dancing with Janus, which mostly meant Remus dancing as Janus held onto him, occasionally spinning him around or pulling him close. But Remus didn't mind. How could he when Janus would watch him with such eyes, that made Remus feel so wanted?

Janus pulled his phone out of his pocket and scowled at the glowing screen as he pulled Remus close to him.

"I'm afraid I have to take this, darling," he said right against Remus' ear. "I'll have to step outside for a moment."

"That's fine," Remus yelled back. "I'll meet you at the bar, babes."

Janus pulled Remus into a searing kiss that would usually be considered too heat to be appropriate for public spaces, but with all the couples dirty dancing against each other around them it hardly mattered.

"I'll be back soon" Janus promised before slipping away into the crowd. Remus stood, smiling like a fool for a moment before heading towards the bar. The music was slightly quieter here, and Remus could actually hear himself think.

He hopped onto a barstool, spinning once before glancing at the drinks menu. Then someone sat beside him.

"I'm really not surprised to see you here."

Remus froze as his blood turned to ice. He had to force himself to look to see that, yes, it was him sitting on the barstool.

"I would have thought Janus would be with you," Remus' ex said as he sipped his drink. "I'm surprised he trusted his little plaything to go out on his own."

"How the fuck do you know about me and Janus?" Remus asked, hands gripping the edge of his barstool and making his knuckles go white. "Have you been stalking me like a creep? Just couldn't let me go, Aiden?"

"Baby, the whole business world has been talking about it," Aiden said with a smirk, unaware, or perfectly aware, of how the old nickname made bile rise in Remus throat, "It's some of the best gossip right now. Though I personally thought Janus was above spending his time on such things."

"It's so funny that you think you know Janus," Remus said with a grin that was far too wide. "You don't know shit about him."

"I've worked with him before, babe," Aiden said. "He is much too dedicated to his work to bother with someone like you."

Remus' blood was boiling, and he couldn't figure out why. He never cared before what people thought of him. He usually liked surprising people with Janus. So why did it hurt when Aiden said it?

Was it because they used to be together? Was it because Remus used to try so desperately to get the approval of his partner, but never seemed to obtain it? And it seems like he still hadn't.

"That's a nice skirt you're wearing," Aiden said, breaking Remus from his thoughts and making him realize he hadn't said anything for a good minute, "I thought you'd avoid those, given your... situation."

Remus had finally reached a point where he felt comfortable in a skirt, even after all the things Aiden said to him. But now he just felt exposed. It felt so good, when Janus rested a hand on his knee when they sat or gripped the back of his bare thigh as they pulled each other close. But now, all he wanted was to close his legs and pull the edge of his skirt over his knees.

"I like wearing skirts," Remus defended, though he didn't know how effective he was with the tremor in his voice.

How could Aiden keep making him feel worse? Digging deep into old wounds, breaking newly healed scars. Remus took a deep breath. He wasn't going to let Aiden ruin all of his progress after they had been apart for nearly two years.

"Well then," Aiden said in a voice that instantly made Remus worried. He then placed his hand on Remus' knee and he was very much not Janus and Remus suddenly felt like he was going to throw up. "Since Janus isn't here, how about we relive some old times, huh ******?"

Hearing his dead name immediately made Remus feel like the floor was taken from under him. He stood without another word and forced his way through the dense crowd on the dance floor. The bright lights and loud music were suddenly too much and Remus couldn't breath his chest wouldn't move he was suffocating-

He finally reached the emergency fire exit, which he knew the alarm didn't work because he had seen couples use it to sneak out for quickies. Once outside he immediately fell to his knees, hands resting on the asphalt, struggling to breath as the door shut behind him. He managed to crawl over to sit against the wall through short gasps of hair. Remus held his head in his hands and gripped his hair tight. Memories were flooding back - none of them pleasant.

His chest was too heavy. He couldn't get his lungs to work right he couldn't get air he was going to pass out right here in the alleyway-

"Remus!"

Janus.

"Oh, darling, it's okay," Janus said, panicked as he sat across from his boyfriend. He opened his arms and Remus immediately flung himself against him, gripping tightly to the back of Janus' jacket like a life line.

"Follow my breathing, love," Janus said softly into Remus' ear, chest pressed against the other making it easier for Remus to follow.

Remus focused on the feeling of Janus against him, around him. Janus' chest moving against his own, his voice and breath against his ear. Janus, Janus, Janus-

"There you go," Janus said softly as he pulled back just enough to look at Remus' face. Remus closed his eyes, focusing on Janus' hands resting on his cheeks, thumbs moving in soothing motions. "You did wonderfully."

"How'd you find me so fast?" Remus asked, "Knew I'd be out with trash, where I belong?" he forced out a laugh though tears fell down his face.

"Remus," Janus scolded.

"Sorry, sorry. No self deprecating, I know."

Though it had been a tough habit for Remus to break.

"You aren't trash," Janus muttered as he pushed Remus' hair out of his face. "You know I only indulge myself in the nicest things."

"How can you say that?" Remus muttered, glancing down to avoid Janus' gaze. "I'm far from nice."

"You are by far the most valuable, precious thing in my life," Janus said firmly as his hand moved to Remus' chin to force him to look in his eyes. "And I won't stand for you saying such things about yourself."

"You could have anything," Remus said, mouth quivering as tears fell freely down his face. "And yet you waste your time on me?"

"My time is never wasted with you. I'd give away all my fortune and luxuries that come with it if it meant spending just one more day with you."

"Why?"

"Because I love you, and all your craziness and curiosities. You are the most incredible person I've ever met and you only ever make me happier than I've ever been."

Janus wiped the tears off Remus' face, and no more followed.

"I love you so much," he whispered. "And you are deserving of everything good thing in this world"

"You sap," Remus said as he lightly punched Janus' arm, tears threatening to spill again - but not from sadness, "I love you, too."

"Are you feeling okay, my love?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I am. Sorry about that freakout."

"You don't have to apologize," Janus said as he ran his hand back over Remus cheek and pressed their foreheads together, "But who did that to you? push such unfounded doubts in your head? Because I do have to find them now, and ruin their life."

Remus groaned and leaned back, hitting the brick wall behind him. "Do you remember, a couple months after we started dating, I had that freakout and thought we needed to break up?"

"Yes," Janus said, a touch of bitterness in his voice. "You had the insane idea that you weren't good enough, and I made sure you knew that was not true. You're not feeling like that again, are you?"

"No. Well, I was, but- Okay so remember how I admitted that was because of my ex? Well, he's here. He talked to me."

Janus' expression quickly turned into one of fury, eyes turning dark as his mouth set into a scowl.

"He called me your plaything. Said he worked with you and that he knew you were too good for me. Then he touched me and said my dead name and came onto me and that made me feel so gross because he wasn't you and all these shitty feelings came back and just. Yeah. It was fucked up."

"Give me his name," Janus nearly growled. "I'll make sure he regrets every decision he ever made."

"Aiden Scott."

"Scott, Scott..." Janus muttered to himself, pondering for a moment before his eyes widened.

"Aiden Scott? He said- Working? With me? oh dear," Janus laughed as he stood, hand outstretched for Remus to take. "Come on, my darling," Janus said with a large smirk. "We have some things we need to straighten out."

Remus let Janus pull him up, but the thought of going to see Aiden again was making him feel sick. His nerves were dampened, however, by the strong grip Janus had around his waist as Remus led him over to the bar.

"Aiden Scott," Janus announced. When Aiden looked over his face paled as he glanced between them, "What a chance, seeing you here."

"Hello, Janus, sir," Aiden managed to say as he stood, outstretching a hand for Janus to shake. Janus glanced at it before looking back up and pulling Remus closer to his side.

"I heard what you said to Remus," Janus said, leaning against the bar and examining his manicure. "And I can't tolerate such things, Aiden."

"Oh, that?" Aiden let out a forced laugh to accompany the anxious smile on his face, "I was just messing with him. Like we used to, right?" Aiden cast Remus a desperate look, and Remus couldn't believe the absolute gall of this douchebag.

"Cut the bullshit," Janus snapped, saving Remus from having to say something, "You knew you shouldn't and yet you still had the nerve to speak to him that way, and you had the audacity to claim you knew me. Please. You had the privilege of standing in the same room as me. I would say you're nothing but an over-glorified secretary, but I actually like my secretary. It would be an insult to her hard work."

"Sir, I'm sorry. I just-"

"I don't care about your apology. Do you accept his apology, darling?" Janus asked, casting Remus a soft look.

"Nah."

Janus' soft look fell as he turned his attention back to Aiden, and Remus probably found the immediate shift in tone hotter than he should've - but he really didn't care.

"I could easily have you fired. I could make sure you never find another job with any of our companies ever again."

"No, sir, please, I-"

"But I don't think I will," Janus said, surprising both Remus and Aiden. "I want to keep my eye on you. I want to make sure you don't take a single step out of line again. You can keep your lowly job in the office, right where I can keep careful watch.

"I don't want you here at this club again. I don't want you anywhere in the near vicinity of Remus. If you know what's good for you, you'll stay the hell away."

"Yes, sir. Of course. Thank-"

"Get out."

"You won't regret not firing me, sir. I'll-"

"Get out."

Remus let out a loud cackle at the way Aiden turned and ran towards the front door, stumbling over his feet through the crowd. Remus was flooded with relief from the promise that that asshole would never bother him again.

He looked over to Janus, who was still wearing that stone-angry look on his face as he straightened his hat, gaze following Aiden to make sure he actually left. Janus then turned to look at Remus, and his face changed back into one of reverence and comfort. Remus was filled with such overwhelming emotions he had no control over his body as he grabbed Janus' hands and pulled him towards the back.

Janus let Remus pull in into the single stall bathroom. Remus slammed the door behind them before pulling Janus to him, burying his head into the crook of Janus' neck and holding him tight. Maybe if he squeezed Janus hard enough, he could show him just how much Janus meant to him.

"Hey now, love, it's alright," Janus said, voice much clearer now that the loud music was dulled behind the door.

"No, I'm fine," Remus laughed into his neck, "Fuck, babe, you were incredible."

"Anything for you, my darling," Janus said as he pressed a kiss to the top of Remus' head.

"But why didn't you fire him?" Remus asked as he pulled away to look at Janus' face.

"I figured letting him go would be too easy - over too quickly. Now he gets to deal with me hovering over his shoulder for as long as he can handle it.

"Which won't be long. I'll make him regret everything he ever did to you."

Remus was so overwhelmed with love for the man in front of him - a man who actually loved him for who he was - that he couldn't stop himself from throwing his arms around Janus' neck and dragging him down into a kiss.

"I'm glad you're feeling better," Janus leaned away with a light chuckle, but Remus immediately reconnected their mouths.

Janus placed one hand securely on the back of Remus' neck, the other cupping his cheek. Remus leaned back into the hand, tilting his head up and letting Janus deepen the kiss. He let himself go pliant under Janus' lips, Janus' grasp. He was completely content to give all his trust to this man. After all Janus had done for him, hasn't he deserved it?

Janus pulled away again, and this time Remus let him go.

"Should we go back to the dance floor? You looked so happy there. If you're feeling okay enough, that is."

And with Janus' arm wrapped snugly around him, Remus found that yeah, he was.

.

.

If you are 18+ and have your age/age indicator in your bio, you can message me for the NSFS sequel that takes place directly after

Thanks for reading! Requests are open in my inbox. Hope you enjoyed <3

[lilhawkeye3]

Find Your Way Back Home- Ch 3

Riyo Chuchi x Commander Wolffe, Riyo Chuchi x Commander Fox

Rating: T |||| Word Count: 1.9k |||| Set Post Order 66 |||| AO3 Link

previous • next

Riyo gripped the kitchen countertop tighter than anything in her whole life. The loud pounding of her heartbeat in her ears threatened to drown out the pounding of her heart as she sought a tether point in her whirlwind of emotions.

She couldn’t do this.

How could she do this? The ghosts she’d left on Coruscant were now seeking shelter in her bedroom.

She’d looked at Wolffe laid out on her bed, and some sick part of her expected him to be Fox. She used to bandage her lover’s wounds on their bed in her old apartment. What had she done to deserve this cosmic taunt?

“Riyo?”

Riyo’s hands flew to her mouth to hold in her startled shriek at Ahsoka’s appearance just to her left. Her friend’s lips twisted into an apologetic smile, and she patiently waited for Riyo to come down from her sudden rush of adrenaline. Her rusty hand cupped Riyo’s elbow to help ground her.

“I’m so sorry,” Riyo murmured, blinking rapidly to hide her brimming tears before she met Ahsoka’s gaze.

The Togruta’s eyes were sad as she searched for the right words, despite them both knowing nothing would ease Riyo’s pain. “You see him.”

Riyo tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a gasp for air after so long underwater. “How can I not?” Her tears stubbornly refused to fall now, despite clamoring at the floodgates only moments ago. “I can’t… I can’t focus on this right now.”

“You can’t go back in there right now either,” Ahsoka calmly pointed out. “Wolffe needs to heal.”

And so grew her guilt. “I know.” She needed to do something to keep her hands and mind busy. “I’ll get some more juvan ready so I can make a cold pack and show Rex what to do. You’ll both need to know how for when you go back.” She tried to ignore the predatory way Ahsoka’s eyes followed her around the kitchen as she gathered supplies.

“I find that talking helps sometimes,” Ahsoka quietly suggested, once Riyo stood back at the sink with her items gathered around.

“I’m not sure I remember how to do that after so long on my own,” Riyo muttered, grabbing a bundle of leaves from a jar more harshly than they deserved.

“No time better than the present.”

Riyo paused to stare calculatingly at her friend. She wasn’t lying about not knowing if she’d be able to speak of her nightmares after so long bottling it all in. “I propose a trade.”

One of Ahsoka’s painted brows rose in interest. “A trade.”

“I will tell you if you update me on your… situation.” She’d tiptoed around the circumstances of her guests’ arrival– and unlikely survival– for the past few days.

“Alright, deal.”

Riyo’s hands hovered uncertainly as she tries to steady her breathing before she begins. Where to even start? She’d tried so hard to forget that night six months ago. Now she had to relive it in full.

“I… I was home for the night.” Riyo doesn’t even recognize her voice with how vacant it sounds. “Everything was normal, even when I got a call from Co– Thire.” She didn’t want to relegate them to their titles. Those men– her friends– were worth much more than that. “He’d call sometimes if Fox was too busy to come home.”

Breathe in, one, two, three, breathe out.

“There’s– there was a code phrase Fox had me agree to. Dusk is falling soon. If one of us used it in a communication, we knew it was from the other.” Her hands began to shake as she ground the juvan up. “Thire said it to me that night. He said I had to flee Coruscant while I still could, before I was marked as a traitor by the Chancellor. That Fox needed to know I was safe, because… because he didn’t think he was coming home.”

“Oh, Riyo…”

Riyo tried to laugh but she choked on her voice. “No, no it’s fine. Please don’t feel sorry for me, not after–”

Not after what you’ve lost. It hangs in the air like a shadow, chilling the two women to the bone.

She could feel Ahsoka’s eyes on her for a long moment before she conceded. “Alright. So you fled Coruscant?”

Riyo nodded. “Yes. I waited for him, but… then I gathered those I could and had a trusted pilot shuttle us off. It wasn’t just those from my office, though. There were several other members from Pantora’s allies that we also safely evacuated. It was beneficial in the long run, since the number of hyperspace jumps we needed to make ensured that we weren’t followed.”

“That was wise of you,” Ahsoka confirmed. “You most likely had been tailed. The Empire has been interrogating anyone they view even as having a potential to be rebellious.”

Riyo dipped her head in a gentle nod. “And I never was one of the Cha– Emperor’s greedy followers,” she added.

Her friend’s lips quirked up in a humorless smile. “No, you weren’t.”

“Anyways, I timed my resignation to autosend sometime during our flight, and I contacted Bail, who gave us directions to follow. That’s all there really is to tell,” Riyo sheepishly shrugged, relieved to be finished and able to turn her attention back to the juvan leaves she’d laid out. They needed to be diced and then ground with water into a paste that could be either frozen and saved, or wrapped in a damp cloth and held to the wound.

“So, my turn then?” Ahsoka asked, faux-cheer evident in her voice but appreciated.

Riyo nodded, thankful for something else to focus on. She beckoned her over though, waiting until the Togruta was looking over her shoulder. “Just make sure to watch how I do it, so you’ll be able to on your own. The leaves have to be separated carefully, or you’ll negate the medicinal qualities.”

Ahsoka observed quietly as Riyo worked, nodding along to each specific task that Riyo pointed out. It was quite simple, but an untrained eye would still mess it up. It was nice to have someone at her side. She’d been so used to being alone.

“We agreed on a trade?” Ahsoka prompted, once Riyo stepped aside and handed the knife over for her to try. “Would you still like to hear what we’ve seen?”

Riyo bit the inside of her cheek to try and keep herself afloat in the surge of stress that threatens to sweep her away. “Yes, please.”

Ahsoka nodded sharply, and then the knife made its first clean slice. “We were on our way back from Mandalore after apprehending Darth Maul– the Sith Zabrak,” she elaborated for Riyo’s sake. “And an order went out to all the clone troopers, everywhere in the galaxy: execute Order 66, to kill the Jedi.” Her fingers clenched around the knife handle to the point that Riyo thought it’d snap. “Somehow Rex… he fought it long enough to warn me to find a file about Fives, an ARC trooper that–”

Riyo could feel the blood drain from her face at the mention of that name, one she’d long forgotten. “I remember. Fox… he shot him, to protect the Emperor.” It felt like lifetimes ago.

In a twisted sense, it was. It’d been during Fox’s lifetime, when he still came home to her every night.

Ahsoka hummed in agreement. “Right. Well, Fives had told Rex that the clones all had control chips in their heads, and that a damaged chip had caused another trooper to shoot a Jedi. No one believed him.” Her shoulders drooped. “I was able to capture Rex and take the chip out of his head, and he was back to normal. I… I let Maul out of his cell though as a distraction, and he damaged the ship so it crashed into a moon. We lost the whole battalion,” she finished in a whisper, head bowed.

“Oh, Ahsoka,” Riyo gasped. She wasn’t sure how a hug would be received, so she placed a comforting hand on her friend’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

Ahsoka’s eyes were teary when she looked up. “Thank you, but please don’t be for me. I took a risk, and it was Rex’s brothers that paid the consequences.” She shrugged half-heartedly. “I’m glad we found Wolffe. There have been other clones that escaped, but Wolffe was always one of his closest brothers.”

A small smile slipped onto her face unbidden. “I’m glad for the both of them as well. How did you find Com– Wolffe, though? You all barely made it here,” she pointed out.

The Togruta sighed. “You know Bail’s been coordinating a lot recently. We were sent out on a mission to try and contact a defector from the Empire. They’re a medic, and they’ve been treating several troopers sent to them for abnormal behavior. We arrived to get them out, and Wolffe was their latest patient, but they were being watched.” She stopped talking to peer at her work cautiously. “Is this correct?”

She stepped out of the way so Riyo could observe her work. “This is very good for anyone’s first try,” Riyo praised her. “Now we just need to grind it with some water to get a thick enough paste.”

Ahsoka waited for Riyo to set up the next step before continuing. “We had the freed men escort the medic onto our waiting ship, but we couldn’t take Wolffe back to base because of his chip. I followed their instructions to try and deactivate it, but we had to leave in a hurry. It took us a few days and several firefights before we lost them well enough to get here.”

“Had no idea you’d gotten that good with a blaster, either.”

Riyo bit back a shriek as Rex’s voice piped up from behind them. Good thing she’d been using the mortar and not a knife, otherwise she might’ve cut herself. At least he had the decency to send her an apologetic smile once she whirled around to face him.

“Gee thanks, Rex,” Ahsoka huffed, reaching out to playfully slap his chest. The two of them shared a grin, and Riyo decided to study the wooden floor beneath her feet until they snapped out of it. She wouldn’t dare disrupt their small moment of joy.

“I came out to let you know Wolffe is asleep again,” Rex finally explained his presence after he shook himself free of their little bubble. “We spoke some, but he tired quickly.”

That was good. He clearly was suffering from some form of head injury, so any amount of time Wolffe was able to be awake and coherent was a step in the right direction.

“Alright, that’s wonderful news. We should be able to apply this compress despite that.” Riyo picked up the bowl of ground javun and gestured at a clean cloth folded on the counter top. “Would you grab that and come with me? I’ll show you what to do, so you know how in the future.”

A quiet grief crept up her spine with each step she took back towards Wolffe’s room. He needed her help. She could pull herself together for him.

Riyo entered the room alone and took the seat beside Wolffe’s still form. Rex would be along in a minute.

Until then, she studied the still man’s face, finding and cataloguing each unique feature of him and hoping it wouldn’t come back to haunt her like before.

[kaleidescope-writes]

Not a Fairytale–Chapter Two: Masquerade

Business CEO AU

CEO!Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Alcohol, Language, Various Cinderella references, dangerous action towards the end, Cliffhanger

Materlist

Dividers: @kawaii-lau (Royal Dividers) & @firefly-graphics​ (Center Roses)

“L/N, we need to have a chat. My office, now. Everything else can wait.” You looked up from the monitor, sighing softly as you began to get up from your seat. This happened often. Ms. Grant would come out of her office and ask to speak to you inside. Normally it would be about something work related, but occasionally you would engage in social talk. It was part of professional friendship. She was both your boss and your friend, which was rare. 

Pushing the door open, you walked into the office and made your way to the chair on the other side of her desk. “You needed to talk?” you questioned, sitting down. “Do you plan on going to the masquerade today?” she asked, still typing away on her computer. You raised an eyebrow, surprised by her question. “I wasn’t aware that I was ever invited,” you admitted. She stopped for a moment, turning to you for the following statement. “You are. You’ll go in my place,” she declared, going back to what she was doing, “I’m tied down by work tonight. I won’t be able to make it to the masquerade, but I made arrangements for you to go in my place. A dress was selected along with shoes and accessories. Your ride will be here at seven-thirty.” 

You felt overwhelmed, breath hitching slightly as you took it all in. “Wait, Hang on,” you stopped her. “Do you really think it’s a good idea for me to go to a fancy company masquerade?” Franchesca stopped completely, lowering her hands to her lap. “What’s so wrong with having you go for me?” she asked as if it was a completely normal request. You looked at her indignantly, “I don’t know the first thing about fitting in at a party full of millionaires, businesspeople, and rich sponsors. I’ll stand out completely!” She rolled her eyes, turning her head to the side as she mumbled, “Standing out is kind of the point.” Giving her a bothered look, you stood up. “I can’t go to the masquerade. I’d be a fish out of water and do something stupid that’ll make the company look bad,” you argued, hands making large expressions to enunciate your distress. 

“Oh, come on!” Franchesca blurted, “You’re a smart woman that can carry a business conversation about the company with ease! You are my right hand woman! I trust you with this more than I trust myself with picking out a dress for a formal event. You are my number one choice to handle things in my absence. I trust you to handle this event in my absence.” You sighed, letting your arms fall to your sides as you bowed your head. There was no way you could convince her otherwise. Not without losing your job, at least. Your job, her respect, her trust, and her friendship were on the line. And frankly, you valued them all too much to lose them. 

“Fine!” you gave in, “But, you have to train me before the event. That means social conversations, what to avoid, what to talk about, and who will be there.” Franchesca gave you a bright smile clapping her hands once before she stood. “I knew I could trust my best girl!” she cheered, making you sigh. “Ya, ya,” you murmured, “But I did mean it. I need the training.” She laughed, walking around the desk over to you. “And you shall receive it,” she gushed, “I will train you up until the moment you have to leave. We wouldn’t want you to seem like a fool at your first ball, now would we?”Letting out a short laugh, you corrected her, “It’s not a ball, it’s a masquerade.” She gave you a playful surprised look, “Is that not what I said?” 

“Let’s go through it one more time, just to be safe,” you asked, lounging on one of the chairs in Franchesca’s office. You’d been going over everything you had to know before the masquerade started, reviewing everything multiple times before your outfit arrived. It was currently five-thirty in the afternoon, which meant that the dress would be here any minute now. “Avoid talking about anything related to the merger. It’s still not publicly announced. Anything else, you can talk about. That includes the work environment and personal topics to your own discretion. Just don’t make me look bad. All our partners will be there. They’re all people you’ve met before, so socializing won’t be a problem,” Franchesca summarized again as she continued to work on her computer. “The only person you wouldn’t recognize is Tom Hiddleston, the CEO of the company we are merging with.” She turned her monitor to show you what was on the screen. It was a picture of an incredibly handsome man. “Now you’ll recognize him,” she stated simply, turning the screen back to face her. 

A knock on the glass door made both of you turn your attention to the figures on the other side of the matted glass door. “Come in,” Franchesca called out. The door opened, allowing a team of seven people to swarm the office. “Franchesca! My love!” one of the men greeted. “Esteban!” she reciprocated, going over to him and pressing a kiss to both his cheeks. This wasn’t the first time you’d seen her interact with someone in such a way. Normally it was with people she was close to, either personally or professionally, so you just brushed it off. Finishing her greeting, Franchesca turned to you and motioned in your direction. “This is Y/N,” she introduced, “She’ll be your muse for tonight.” Esteban looked at you as if he was analyzing your appearance. After a brief, slightly self conscious moment of him looking you up and down, he turned back to Franchesca. “She will be the most beautiful flower in the ball. That I will make sure of myself,” he told her, snapping his fingers twice. His helpers began to open all the boxes and the bag on the coat wrack they brought in with them, revealing beauty tools and the most precious accessories you’d ever seen. 

“Now then,” Esteban clapped twice, “We will accentuate the features of her natural beauty and make her look as if she were an angel that came down to grace humanity with her very essence. Starting with her hair and a mostly natural make-up look.” In an instant, you were made to sit up straight on the chair, surrounded by the beauticians that immediately began to work on you. 

“How does it feel to be smothered by the best team of beauticians money can afford?” Franchesca asked, unable to see your reaction due to the entire team blocking you from the line of sight. “It feels a bit excessive,” you acknowledged from within the barrier they created. Each one of them was hard at work on one specific task. Whether it was your hair, eyelids, eyebrows, nails, or cheeks, they all worked on you with complete focus and harmony. “The things I do for you,” Franchesca teased, going to take a peek at the dress. 

“Her natural beauty has been successfully accentuated,” Esteban announced, presenting you to Franchesca, “Now, we give this princess her gown.” Two of his employees stood across from you, holding up a fabric that covered the dress. With a swish of his hand, they let the fabric drop, revealing the most magnificent dress you’d ever seen. The soft blue, low sleeve dress was adorned with intricate silver and white adornments, making it look like something straight out of a fairy tale. You admired the dress, unable to form any coherent words to describe how beautiful it was. The only thing that escaped your lips was a surprised gasp as you felt your breath be taken away. “Tell no one, but for your needs, it has pockets. And to accompany the dress,” Esteban continued, “A matching, designer mask, made by yours truly.” Another employee walked up to the dress, carefully holding a mask that matched the blue on the dress. It was adorned with blue and silver rhinestones placed on top of a lace pattern that went from the forehead to the nose of the mask. It complimented the dress beautifully. “And of course, what’s a dress and a mask without shoes to tie the look together. They aren’t made of glass, but they may as well be,” Esteban concluded. A young lady walked up to the other side of the dress, holding a pair of silver slippers placed on top of a cushion. 

You looked over at the items, still awestruck with all of it. “This is more than I ever hoped for,” you marveled. Franchesca smiled, walking up to you, “I’m glad you like it. Now go get dressed! The limo will be here soon! We wouldn’t want you to be late.” 

It was eight at night when you arrived at the venue in the grand, riding in a white hummer limo. Stepping out of the vehicle, you were led into the luxurious building by an attendant. Inside, the hall was impressively massive. The room was illuminated with multiple lights coming from the ceiling lamps, candles on the tables, and the chandelier hanging near the dance area. It was magnificent. Taking in more of your surroundings, you realized just how large the building was as well as how full of people it was. The grand hall was filled with the sounds of people mingling over the loud music that surrounded them. Franchesca told you that most of the guests were allied companies, investors, partners and of course, people directly connected to the merger. You maneuvered around the tables, attempting to find anyone you knew. Unfortunately, a lot of the masks the guests wore covered their most recognizable features. Great. 

A waitress walked by you as you stood near the tables. She must have sensed your internal dilemma, as she offered you a glass of champagne which you took without a moment’s thought. You thanked her as she walked away, still trying to figure out what to do as your mind went blank to the training from earlier. You looked around the room, not knowing what to do and not knowing many people there. Sticking closely to the walls, you stood there, taking a sip of the champagne you’d been handed as you watched everyone around you. You tried to recognize anyone you’d met previously with no luck. You hadn’t known anyone here long enough to recognize them with a part of their face covered. Your eyes drifted to a corner, opposite of where you were, where a group of men stood talking.They were facing away from you. All but one. Your eyes met his behind the mask that looked like cracked porcelain decorated with gold accents. You tried to see if you could recognize him, as something about him seemed slightly familiar. Continuing to study his features, you tried to connect a face to a name with no results. From this distance it was difficult to tell whether his eyes were grey or blue, but you kept looking, trying to find the answer from afar. You saw him smile and you looked away, not daring to look in his direction any longer. You decided to go back to looking around the room at the sea of mingling strangers. You meant it when you said you didn’t want to make a fool out of yourself at this event and now you felt that you failed. You couldn’t help it, he was just so entrancing. Shaking your head, you tried to clear your mind while taking another sip of the champagne. 

“Enjoying the party?” 

You turned around only to meet the same mask you were entranced with earlier. They were blue. A deep, hypnotic blue that made you want to stare at them forever. But you couldn’t. Mentally shaking away those thoughts, you mustered a response, “I suppose. I can’t recognize very many people here because of their masks, but other than that, I think it’s a wonderful gathering.” The man nodded, offering you a small, yet warm smile. "If I may be so bold," he began, "I'd say you're not accustomed to events such as this." His voice was deep and smooth at the same time with an accent that could just make you melt on the spot. "You'd be right," you laughed, "I'm not accustomed to anything this formal. I feel a bit out of place." 

You heard him chuckle and you felt as if your knees would give out at any moment. "You do stand out," he stated, "Not in a bad way. I just think that the dress perfectly compliments your visible features.” Had it not been for the mask covering the majority of your face, he would have definitely noticed the sudden change of color on your cheeks. “Thank you,” was all you could say, “Mr…” He shook his head, “We will be able to reveal our identities to each other at midnight. For now, I’d like to provide you with some company.” Your smile widened as you nodded. He was intriguing to say the least. 

“Would it be too cliche for me to ask you for a dance?” he inquired, offering his hand. You tensed a bit, knowing you weren’t all that graceful on your feet. However, you didn’t want to refuse his offer. “I must warn you,” you began, putting your hand on his, “I’m not exactly a flawless dancer.” He chuckled once more, “Worry not your pretty little head. I’ll lead you through it. All you have to do is trust me.”

He led you through the crowd, heading to the dancing area. Once you’d arrived, he wrapped his right arm around your waist, taking your right hand in his left hand. You placed your unoccupied hand on his shoulder and slowly, you both began to sway to the soft music. You let yourself melt into him, letting him fully influence your movements. It was as if you were floating on a cloud. His steps were so gentle, you barely felt your feet touch the ground. You gazed deeply into his eyes, unable to look away from his deep blue eyes. They were hypnotic. You thought that if you looked away, he would disappear. 

You’d lost all notion of your surroundings, focusing only on the man you danced with. Slowly, the song came to an end and so did he, curtsying as the song finished. Coming out of your trance, you did the same. He smiled, taking your hand once more, he began to lead you away from the other dancing couples. “After a dance like that, I find myself in need of fresh air,” he commented, leading you to the balcony. You silently agreed, letting him guide you to the door of the balcony. 

Once there, he opened the doors for you, allowing you to step outside first. The air felt pleasant after all the dancing, cool air contrasting the warmth of your skin. You took a few deep breaths, still attempting to relax your breathing. The balcony was relatively small in size, only large enough to fit a maximum of four people. The cement railing was covered with a red, velvet like fabric. It covered the railing and walls framing it, being held up by a pole on each side. Looking out into the scenery, your eyes went wide at the beauty of all the city lights. “It’s a beautiful view,” he said from behind you, “The lights are nice too, but the view I’m referring to is standing before me.” Letting a laugh, you turned to him, “That was the most cliche thing you could’ve said.” He smiled, “It got your attention, didn’t it?” You arched an eyebrow, laughing once more as you spoke, “Ok, it did. That doesn’t make it any less cliche.” He shrugged, looking away momentarily. “I had to break the ice somehow if I want to get to know the woman with whom I shared the most wonderful dance.” You nodded, leaning back into the fabric covered railing, “What would you like to know?”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds!” you argued, “I mean sure, the commute to work is a bit long and stressful with traffic, but the neighborhood is nice.” You’d been conversing with the porcelain masked man for a while now. It was as if conversations came naturally with him. You warmed up to him pretty quickly and you think he did too. “Yes, but you have to remember that the area is surrounded by just houses and that the nearest supermarket is three miles away. It’s not all that ideal,” he returned, keeping his voice as gentle as possible. “Well ya, but there’s really great schools in the area,” you mentioned, still trying to get your point across. 

Before he could give you a reply, he was interrupted by the sound of a bell ringing. You turned to the direction of the bell, wondering what it was. ��Midnight,” the porcelain masked man said, “The bell means it’s finally midnight.” Midnight? Already? How long was the conversation? “We can reveal our identities to each other now,” he confirmed. You turned your attention back to him as he began to remove his mask. You felt anxiety creep up on you as he slowly revealed his face to you. 

Your heart stopped for a moment, realizing who was standing before you. This is why his eyes seemed so familiar to you. This was the face Franchesca showed you earlier. It was Thomas Hiddleston. He gave you an expectant look, urging you to either say something or take off your mask as well. “Y-you know,” you began to stutter, “I could really use a drink b-before I show you who I am.” You took a step in the direction of the door before he stopped you. “I’ll get it for you, it’s not trouble,” he smiled. Damn his gentle nature. He walked through the door and into the hall. The door closed behind him as you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. 

This was your chance to make a quick escape. He didn’t know what you looked like, so it wasn’t likely he would recognize you at any of the meetings scheduled for the following week. It was alright. You walked over to the door, reaching for the handle. It didn’t turn. You tried the other handle, but neither door opened. Shit! The doors were locked from the outside of the balcony. You began to panic, thinking about all the possible things that could happen. He would definitely urge you to take off your mask and given how you reacted to him earlier, you knew you couldn’t refuse for long. You began looking around for alternatives, knowing the doors weren’t an option. Suddenly, it hit you. The fabric that covered the balcony could be used to climb down into the gardens below. 

Using one of the over-sized pots, you hoisted yourself up to reach the pole holding the fabric up. Pulling it down, you let it fall as far down as it could reach. You climbed down, looking down to see how far down it reached. The pole was only a few feet off the ground. Perfect! Now came the hard part; actually climbing down. Taking in a deep breath, you climbed the pot closest to the dangling fabric. Using your heels to your advantage, you hooked them into the fabric, holding on to it as you began to descend. You tried your hardest to keep your arms from giving in, still having to slide down a significant distance before you could reach the ground. With every small, labored move, you slid down the fabric and got closer to the ground. 

“Need some help there?” Tom’s voice sounded from above you. You were startled, almost letting go of the fabric entirely. You looked up, still wearing the mask as it was the only thing that hid your identity from him. “Uh, no, I’m good,” you responded, trying to keep your grip on the fabric. Tom looked down at you in confusion, “You’re not running from me, are you?” 

“No, no! I’m not,” you lied, “It’s just that I accidentally dropped one of my earrings and the doors were locked. So I thought why not climb down to get it.” He gave you an amused look, “Climb back up and I’ll accompany you to retrieve it.” You felt your arms about to give out, knowing you wouldn’t last much longer. “Unfortunately, I don’t have the upper body strength to pull myself back up,” you admitted, using every bit of strength you had left. He snorted, “Then how is it you’ve been keeping yourself up for the entirety of this conversation?” You felt your arms begin to falter, yet you refused to let go just yet. “That is a very good question,” you responded, voice more labored now that you’d kept that position for a while. 

“Just hang on, I’ll get down there in a bit to help you,” he said quickly before disappearing. You took this chance to continue your descent, this time faster with motivation. Once your foot touched the pole, you kicked off the expensive heels--so you wouldn’t break them-- and jumped down. You quickly put both shoes back on before rushing to the exit. However, one of your shoes wasn’t put on properly, causing you to walk with a slight limp. As you neared the garden’s exit, you felt the ill-worn shoe slip off your foot. Your bare foot touched the cold ground as you turned around to retrieve it. “Nope, not leaving you behind,” you said to yourself, picking it up and putting it back on your foot--properly this time. Once secured, you continued to run. Taking your phone out of one of the ingeniously placed pockets, you dialed Franchesca’s number as you made your way to the limo you arrived in. You wanted to let her know you were leaving early for an excuse you’d come up with if she answered.   

Tom looked around the garden directly under the balcony he’d come from. He saw no sign of the woman he spent the evening with. Deciding to look around the garden for her, a small voice advised him to look for her near the exit. Listening to the voice, he made his way to the garden’s exit. Still, there was no sign of her. He let his head drop for a moment, trying to comprehend the situation he’d gotten himself into. His thoughts were interrupted, however, when something on the floor caught his attention. He picked it up, realizing it was a small Polaroid picture. The picture showed a woman and a young girl. He didn’t think much of it at first until he looked at the woman’s eyes. Tom quickly realized those were the very eyes he’d been hypnotized by earlier in the evening. 

And after tonight, he’d recognize those eyes anywhere.

A/N: Tadaa!! This chapter was really fun to write, not just because of the ending scene, but because Cinderella is my absolute favorite princess and I really enjoyed tying in aspects of the movie into the chapter. I was really looking foward to this one. Anyway, what did you think? Feel free to let me know in the comments, as feedback is both appreciated and encouraged. This took me a bit longer to write because of so many little details, but it’s finally done!!  I love each and every single one of you!! Thanks so much for all the support you’ve shown me! I honestly can’t express just how much it means to me!!.😘🥰😍 Stay Safe, Stay Proud, Be Careful, and I wish you the very best!!💜💜💜💜💜💜

To all my new followers, Welcome to the Family!! ❤🧡💛💚💙💜

Taglist is OPEN

@blue-honey-bee-from-france  ​​ @whathefuckrichard69 ​​ @viviandarkbloom06 ​​​ @thevampiregirlsblog  ​​ @captaingothgirl1996 ​ @vintageroses1014516 ​ @cynic-spirit  ​ @hunterofartemisblog  ​ @harringtonb-blog @twhlily @kingtwhiddleston @racewife2004

Permanent Taglist for all things Tom Hiddleston: @myraiswack​ ​​ ​ @falling4uke  ​​ @accio-boys  ​​ @ashcrimson-is-writing ​​ @just-trying-to-survive-marvel @whathefuckrichard69 ​​  @blue-honey-bee-from-france ​​ @frostedgiant @allthecreativeonesaretaken

[eveningcatcher]

Courtiers believing MC died

Volta

Volta’s food dropped out of her mouth as she heard the terrible news. Is it true? No, it can’t be. Their beloved MC can’t be dead. There is just no way. She stood up from her dining table and went to visit MC. However, as soon as they saw Asra crying in the shop, she got a bad feeling forming in her stomach.

“Where is MC?” Volta innocently asked Asra, “Are they still sleeping?” she asked, knowing how much MC enjoyed good rest.

“Nobody told you?” Asra asked her, feeling only pity for her.

“All of them are lying to Volta, right?” she asked, feeling tears form in her eyes.

Asra didn’t know what to say, they just shrugged, hugging Volta.

“Stop crying Asra,” Volta said coldly as she tried her best not to cry, “MC is fine. They promised Volta that they’ll go to a bakery together.”

“Volta…” Asra stared at her blank face, “Go check for yourself.”

“Volta will,” she said as she broke the hug, going upstairs to MC’s room.

“Volta is sorry that she went in without knocking,” she started apologizing, “But she has heard about some terrible, terrible rumours!”

She waited for MC’s reaction, however, she received nothing. MC didn’t even flinch.

“MC,” she mumbled as her lips were shaking, “MC, wake up. It’s not funny…” she started sobbing as she gently held MC’s hand, shaking it from time to time, “Please, wake up.”

She waited and waited, but MC didn’t move. Asra finally went inside of the room, somehow forcing Volta outside.

“Volta, we should hold a funeral,” Asra started explaining.

“What, no!” she protested through tears, “We can’t! What if, what if MC wakes up?”

“You know very well MC won’t do that…”

It seemed that Asra’s words finally got through her. She calmed down a bit, “Please give Volta more time to think about it…” she begged Asra.

“Fine,” Asra said as they went downstairs, giving Volta some space.

She didn’t go inside the room, she didn’t have the heart to do so, instead, she said in front of the doors, crying over all of her mistakes. How did MC die? Did they eat some bad food? Did someone do this to them? All of this made her feel so, so guilty. She didn’t focus enough time on their dearest MC, instead, she only spent her time eating and eating… and now that MC is gone, she truly regretted not spending more time with them. She walked left and right in front of MC’s room, imagining all of the things she missed just because of her hunger. Speaking of hunger, it was killing her, but she tried her best to suppress it by biting on her nails. She can’t always turn to hunger for everything, she needs to sort this on her own.

And so she spent three whole days weeping over MC’s death, trying to come up with something, anything that would return them. She even thought about making another deal with the devil, despite how much she hated the thought of it. Thankfully, Asra stopped her from doing so, reassuring her that that’s not what MC would have wanted. After a whole week passed Asra visited Volta once more in her estate.

“We have to hold a funeral for MC.”

“No! Volta is not ready yet!” she cried out as she bit on her nails in frustration.

“Volta,” Asra started talking as they took her hands out of her mouth, “Let MC finally rest. You have to move on.”

“But, but I miss them,” she said as she burst into tears.

“I know,” they reassured her, “I miss them too, but you can’t leave MC’s body to rot in a room. Let’s give them a proper funeral, alright?” they asked as they brushed Volta’s tears off, “We’ll do it together.”

After she calmed down for a moment, she wanted to say something, but she still couldn’t, so instead, she just nodded in approval. As soon as Asra left her gloomy estate, Volta laid on her bed, thinking about everything. She knew that she had to be strong, if not for herself, then at least for MC. Right. They wouldn’t want to see her in this state. She’ll be strong for MC… she will. Just as she was about to leave her bedroom and walk into the hallways, MC stood right in front of them.

“Wh-what,” Volta stared at them feeling tears running down her cheeks.

“No, Volta, please don’t cry,” MC said as they gave her a tight hug, rubbing her back. Just like how Volta remembers it.

“You, you’re still, still,” Volta tried her best to form a coherent sentence through her sobs as she nuzzled her head in MC’s chest, “But I, I tried to wake you, and you, you.”

“Shh,” MC said as they gently pat Volta’s hair, humming a melody only the two of them knew, “I’m sorry for making you worry. It was never my intent to hurt you. So, wanna go to that bakery?”

  Vlastomil

 Vlastomil has just been cleaning his beloved worm's rooms when he sensed something unusual. MC's soul was nowhere in Vesuvia. How odd, they didn't tell him they went to travel. But MC would always inform him if they were away, plus, they were supposed to visit him today. He realised that something was wrong so he decided to investigate himself.

He took the carriage and, along with Wiggler, decided to visit MC. Soon enough, he was in front of MC's little shop. The doors were locked but that wasn't much of an obstacle to Vlastomil. He quickly unlocked the doors, looking around MC's shop. Everything seemed to be fine but it was only until he saw MC laying in their bed, not breathing at all that he let out the screech of horror.

"MC..." he called out as he put Wiggler down, "MC, what's going on?" He asked once more as he touched their cold hands.

How could this happen? They weren't sick, he would have known for sure, so there was only one answer - they were murdered. But why? Who would have wanted to do any harm to his dearest? They were harmless! As far as he knew, nobody hated MC. Wait, were they murdered because, because of him? Could it be that somebody killed MC because they wanted to hurt Vlastomil that way? Those bastards! He'll find them and he'll make them pay for it! He quickly scooped Wriggler and took one last glance at MC, before they paid one of their colleagues a visit.

 "Good morning Praetor," Valdemar responded coldly as they greeted Vlastomil, "What brings you here, I wonder?"

"Tell me who did it?!" He demanded.

"Who did what?" Valdemar asked, tilting their head.

"Who killed MC?!?"

"MC is dead?" They asked as they thought for a moment, "Oh, would you look at that, their soul is not amongst the alive," they trailed off, "Sorry for your loss," they quickly responded as they trailed off once again, wanting to return to their mansion.

"How can you, how can you be so cold?" He asked, not believing Valdemar's words, "Tell me, tell me who killed them."

Valdemar was silent for a moment, until they finally responded, "I don't know."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY YOU DON'T KNOW???" he shouted, getting more and more irritated, "You're death! You should know that!"

"How do I explain this simply enough so that even the likes of you could understand it..." Valdemar said, frowning. Just before Vlastomil wanted to say something, Valdemar raised their hand, continuing "MC isn't amongst the alive, but neither are they amongst the dead. However, if you would like to know a bit better, I could dissect-"

"No, no, no, NO!" Vlastomil interrupted Valdemar, "You won't do a thing to MC!"

"But think about all the science I could do with that body of theirs," they mused, "I have never had a specimen such as them..."

"Just shut up!" Vlastomil responded, furious, "You were useless!" With those words, he left.

  Once he was in his carriage he started thinking of someone, anyone who could have murdered MC... why were there so many people on the list? He knew he had enemies, but now that he had listed them all he realises how incredibly big that list is! Oh, it could have been anyone! Why did his poor MC have to pay for that all? If only he had paid a fraction of time to them... Why weren't there any guards around?

He sighed, trying to come up with something, anything he could do. However, the more he thought about it he realised that there was no way he could do anything. He went home, feeling just a little bit better when he saw his babies. Knowing very well that it's not good for worm's health to be surrounded by negative energy, he went straight to work, trying their best to take good care of them. However, as soon as he cooked them food, a choking feeling of guilt took over him. Isn't he abandoning MC this way? It just... feels wrong to enjoy the precious time he spends with the worms when MC is...

For the first time in decades, he asked the servants to take care of the worms for the rest of the evening. When it was bedtime for the worms he didn't even go to sing them a lullaby.

It took him 2 whole weeks to come out of his bedroom. At first, he didn't do much, he just checked on the state of their precious children. But as more and more days passed, he would stay longer out of his room, enjoying the company of his precious little children who missed him dearly. Months have passed and people thought that Praetor got over their lover's death. He was busy with his usual duties, he would feed the worms, clean them, redecorate their rooms, oh, and also he would do his duties as Praetor from time to time.

However, the only thing that was inside of his head was MC and, no matter what he did they were always in his thoughts. It almost seemed to him like they kept on living in his head. Every morning he would almost greet them in his bedroom, ask to have another plate for MC and so on. Even though he seemed like a normal, sane person, to some of his servants he seemed like a madman who was just about to break.

And all of them were right. One morning he came inside of the staff's room, demanding to take 'the charlatan' out.

"What are you talking about sir?" One of the younger maids asked him.

"There is some awful, terrible person in the guest room acting like MC. How disrespectful. Who let that bastard in?"

"But Vlasty," MC said as they walked into the room, "It is me!"

"Shut up! Don't you have any shame?!?" He walked straight up to MC, ignoring the staff's gasps.

"But, can't you recognise me?" MC asked, feeling their eyes getting glossy from the tears. They stared at the staff with the hope that one of them might help them, but instead, they did the opposite. All of them silently left, giving MC a pitiable look.

"MC is dead! Dead! And you are over here pretending to be them!" He started crying in rage," What did you hope to see? Stupid, disgusting human!" he wanted to say more but he stopped as he stared at MC crying.

MC didn't like to be seen crying, so only a few saw them do it. First, it was just silent sobs, once a bit more time passed their tears started to roll down their cheeks. They covered their mouth with one and cleaned their tears with the other.

Vlastomil stared at them in shock. Slowly he extended his skinny hand to them. MC didn't flinch, they just nuzzled their head closer to his hand, enjoying the touch they so craved for.

"It's me," MC said as they let Vlastomil hug them, showering them with gentle butterfly kisses all over their face.

"It... it is you," he nodded as he put his head on theirs, "I... I was so... so devastated. Don't you ever, ever do anything like this again."

"I promise."

  Vulgora

 This isn’t real. This is not real. It just can’t be. MC can’t be dead. They were doing just fine yesterday, they even asked Vulgora if they wanted to go to the red market together. So, they can’t be dead. Asra’s just saying bullshit.

“Do you think I’m dumb?” Vulgora asked Asra, pissed.

“How many times do I have to tell you to understand?” Asra asked Vulgora, getting frustrated as well, “MC is not breathing…” they stopped talking as they felt their breath getting uneasy as they finally burst in tears.

Vulgora just watched Asra cry as they had to reconcile with the truth. Once Asra has left their estate, Vulgora felt an inhuman amount of rage pile up. Immediately they started breaking things, throwing chairs, ruining tapestries, tearing paintings and overall ruining everything that was in their way.

It was only when they snatched a sword, ready to tear another one of their paintings that they stopped. This was the dagger MC gave them for their anniversary… They gently traced with their gauntlet the message that MC carved in the handle: ‘For many great victories that are about to come.’

Damn it. Damn it all… How could they let this all happen? Even though Vulgora had all of the power that they wanted, they still couldn’t protect MC. How? Do they have to make more deals with the devil? Will that help? Who are they trying to fool, of course, it won’t. Vulgora failed and it was too late to try and fix their mistake.

 Unlike the rest of the people who were at Mc’s funeral, Vulgora didn’t cry. They just couldn’t. Deep down they still believed that MC was alive, even when they took a look at MC’s body. The funeral was done and Vulgora couldn’t recall anything that happened. They went back to their estate, completely silent, laying down on their bed. Who knows how long they’ve spent just staring at the ceiling, not thinking about anything else but MC. A couple of days have passed with Vulgora staying in their room, trying to get over the fact that MC’s dead. As soon as they would believe that they’re truly over it, a choking feeling of grief would take over them, resulting in Vulgora reacting in the only way they knew – violence. By the time they were over the fact that MC was dead their bedroom looked unrecognizable.

Vulgora, however, didn’t give a shit about that. They just left the room, breathing in some fresh air but then, out of nowhere, MC stood in front of them. No, no, that can’t be, MC is dead. Is someone trying to mess with them? They felt rage build up inside of them again and before MC could say anything Vulgora marched in front of them, ready to kill the ‘imposter’.

“Vulgora, what are you doing?” MC asked as they nearly dodged the sword’s blade.

This bastard. How dare they impersonate MC. Don’t they have any respect?

“Vulgora, it’s me,” MC called out.

“NO, IT’S NOT!” Vulgora shouted as they tried their best to get to them. Gosh, why are they so hard to kill?

“Please stop it. You’ll hurt me.”

“THAT’S THE POINT!”

MC realised that at this point Vulgora will kill them, so they started talking about anything that would prove MC’s identity, “I, I gave you that sword last month, remember?” as soon as they’ve noticed Vulgora softening a bit they continued, “For many great victories that are about to come. That’s the message I carved,” after Vulgora stopped swinging with their sword, MC continued, “You said how I carved the ugliest ‘f’ that you’ve ever seen. We were in the Rowdy raven and you got into a fight with some woman and you nearly used the sword on her. I had to intervene or else you would have killed her.”

“It…” Vulgora stared at MC for a moment, their eyes sparkling with joy, “It really is you!” they shouted as they hugged MC as tight as they could, “You bastard, you had me worried sick! You have to tell me how you pulled that off!”

  Valerius

 “What are you talking about?!?” he asked the maid who brought the news, feeling the glass of wine shatter in his hands, “Do you think you’re being funny?”

“Sir I was just-” before she could explain herself Valerius lifted his hand, gesturing her to shut up.

“I don’t believe you. There is just no way! They were doing perfectly fine yesterday!” he commented as he left his estate, visiting MC.

As he was riding the carriage he thought more about the statement that maid made. MC can’t be dead, right? He felt tears form in his eyes just by thinking about the possibility. No, he thought as he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, MC can’t be dead, they were just fine yesterday. I need to stop making drama out of this. I haven’t cried since I was a kid, I won’t do that now.

  He cried. He cried like a baby. With loud sobs, tears that just wouldn’t stop rolling down his cheeks and uneven breaths, he stared at MC’s lifeless body. He – how. Just, how? How could this happen on MC of all people… Wait, what’s that on their body? With shaky hands, he touched the back of MC’s shirt. It was all bloody. Someone tried to kill them!

All of the tears that he was about to spill because of MC were replaced by rage. Who did this? Who would have thought about this? It doesn’t matter who it is, he’ll have them hanged. No, he’ll do something much, much worse to them. He nearly left the room, almost forgetting why he was there in the first place. Right, MC should have a proper funeral.

And so they did, only days after Valerius found out. Of course, the funeral was a tad bit too extra, but Valerius didn’t give a fuck.  He just stared at MC, not knowing what to say. When it was time to give MC things they could use in their life on the other side, Valerius calmly waited for everybody who wanted for others to put in their things – some of them gave money, others put on some herbs, spare clothes, scented candles that they knew MC was fond of and so on. When it was Valerius’ turn, he put down a little box right next to MC’s hand. It was an engagement ring. All of the money he spent on MC’s funeral was saved for the wedding. He was so excited at the thought of MC spending the rest of their life with him… and now it all fell into the water.

He took one last glance at MC’s emotionless face. Whoever did this to them is done for.

Once he got back home he wasted no time. He called his people, promising them a huge sum for finding the culprit. Once all of them left his mansion, he thought for a moment. What if someone hired an assassin to kill MC? He changed his mind. If that were the case, the assassin will be left without a scratch only if they tell him who hired them to kill MC. Then all hell will break loose.

Weeks quickly turned into months and Valerius was on the same spot as before. No matter how many professionals he hired, neither one of them could come to anything. Great… just great.

He concluded that trying to find the culprit was meaningless at this point. With a loud sigh, he flopped himself on his bed, staring at his engagement ring. Had someone told them that all of this would happen, he would have spilt all of his wine on them, calling them an idiot. But now that all of this unravelled he had no clue how to feel about it, nor what he could do. MC was dead so he should at least return one of the rings, but he couldn’t. It just felt like he would completely abandon MC if he did that. He put on the ring on his finger then dropping his head on the pillow as he stared at the ceiling. He knew damn well he will never be able to love anyone like he loved his little witch…

He would have lamented a bit more had he not heard someone open the door. Lazily, he took a glance at the person, wanting to tell them to leave him alone, but he stopped. MC was the one who opened the doors.

“But… how?” he stared at them in disbelief. There is no way…

“It’s… complicated,” they said as they put some things on the floor. Once Valerius took a closer look, he realized that MC was wearing the clothes someone gave on the funeral. Looking down on the floor there was a small pouch with money, some scented candles and everything else people gave them at the funeral.

“So…” Valerius concluded with a chuckle, “You’re haunting me. First the witch, then a ghost,” he stopped for a moment, not knowing what to add, “How… diverse.”

“Val,” MC said as they walked up to him, sitting right next to him,” You know very well that’s not true.”

“Right. Ghosts would be a bit too much, no?” he laughed, ”My mind is just playing tricks on me...”

MC stared at him with tears in their eyes. They never thought this could break him so much. “Val, I love you very dearly and you know that.”

He was silent for a moment as he stared at their glossy eyes.

“But for the love of Gods please get a grip. This is nothing like you. I didn’t die, I never did. It was a ritual but it got out of hand. That’s why I looked dead for so long,” after explaining it all, they gently put their hand on his cheek, giving it gentle scratches.

At first, Valerius irked away from their hand. The whole hand was warm, except for one part which was cold like a… metal. He grabbed their hand. There, there is the engagement ring. Nobody knew about it and the ring was designed specifically for them.

“It, it is you,” he trailed off as he hugged them, “I, I was so worried.”

MC hugged them back as they buried their head in his chest, “I know, I’m so sorry.”

For a moment they were like that, enjoying each others company. Then, it hit Valerius.

“So, you,” he started talking but didn’t know how to word his sentence. He was supposed to propose to them in a different matter.

MC understood what he wanted to say. “Yes, Val, I’d love to be your spouse.”

  Valdemar

 They couldn’t believe their eyes. MC was laying in their bed with no colour in their cheeks, no breath escaping their lips. Once Valdemar walked closer and was unable to feel their heartbeat they were sure. MC is dead.

How could this be? Why didn’t Valdemar feel any change? They’re a literal embodiment of death, yet they couldn’t feel MC’s life slip away. How did they even die? They did a check on MC three days ago and they were perfectly healthy.

They knew that if they wanted to find an answer they’d have to perform an autopsy. Swiftly, they put MC’s lifeless body on one of the tables, taking the scalpels they kept in MC’s home. As they carefully cleaned the scalpel, they took a glance at MC. Not yet; they can’t cut them open just yet. They put the scalpel down and did a quick check up on the body. There is no bleeding, no sign of violence, nothing. As soon as they opened their eyelid and seen MC’s lifeless eyes stare back at them, they backed off of MC’s body, a realization hitting them once again – MC truly is dead.

Damn it all! Why couldn’t they convince MC to make a deal with them? They should have been more persistent about it! Had MC made a deal with them, none of this would have happened… But now there is no way for them to return MC! They can’t make a deal with the devil – their whole soul already belongs to him, neither can they find a new body for them – the Fool’s body was one of a kind. For the first time in centuries, they feel helpless. What are they going to do? They never thought that the death of a human could disturb them so much… They turned away from MC’s body, sitting in MC’s favourite chair.

It was pretty obvious that they won’t dissect their body, even though the thought amused them when MC was alive. MC deserves a proper funeral. And so the funeral was held. Valdemar thought about not inviting anyone else, but, despite not wanting to, they told Asra. It was only fair for them to be there as well. Once everything was done Valdemar went back to their estate, still trying to process everything. MC is dead and Valdemar doesn’t even know how they died. Maybe they should have done the autopsy after all… No, now is no time turning back, death of a mere human shouldn’t haunt them for the rest of eternity.

This was nothing but a little obstacle in their eternal life… right, just a little obstacle. It’ll all go away after a couple of weeks. They were so, so wrong. Months have passed and they couldn’t stop thinking about MC. It got so extreme that they continued with the habits – they still drank tea at the usual time, albeit they did it alone there was still another cup of tea on the table as if Valdemar expected for MC to come soon.

After a while, they realized that their behaviour just isn’t rational and that they won’t get over MC as soon as they thought they would. How… bothersome. They sat down for a moment, trying their best to think of how they’ll get over MC, because letting time do its thing didn’t go well so far. Oh, look, MC is standing right in front of them, great, now they even started hallucinating.

“Valdy dear, what’s wrong,” MC asked them as they walked closer, “You look terrible.”

“Whose fault is that?” they responded brashly.

“I,” MC stared at them for a moment then hugged Valdemar, “I, I’m sorry, I couldn’t tell you why I did that.”

“Do not worry,” they started as they smelled MC’s hair. Oddly enough, it smells like dirt. That’s not how they remember it, “People usually don’t know why they die,” they simply stated.

“But I didn’t die.”

“Yes, you did,” they protested, getting a bit tired of the way their mind played tricks on them, “What do you want to say, that I buried you alive?”

“Actually,” MC started, “That’s exactly what you did!”

To this regard, Valdemar didn’t know what else to do but laugh. “So, you’re saying that a person with no pulse and no soul in their body can be alive?” they kept on laughing.

“If you don’t believe me, take a closer look at me!”

For a moment, Valdemar listened and looked at MC. Their hair was dirty, their clothes were covered in dirt. Could this be MC? Valdemar grabbed MC’s hand, pressing it lightly. There, there is a pulse! Wait, what is it they’re sensing? Could it be… it is! It really is MC’s soul!

They looked back at MC in the eyes, responding casually: “Take a bath. After that, tell me everything.”

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Hey! How are you? Hope you are doing well!

I read your jealous!percy fanfiction and OH MY GODS is it possible to be in love with a fanfiction because I really was!!

Can I request for a part two??

Please feel free to ignore this if you are busy or cannot do it right now!

I just wanted to say that I really do adore you and your content!!!

Thank you!!!

When I tell you I sat in my room and cried when I saw this ask?!? Thank you so much for your lovely words angel💖🥺they really do mean the world! And I’m so so so happy you enjoy the mess I put out☀️

Your wish is my command so here is Part 2 of the Jealous! Percy fic. There is no jelly Perc in this one but there's enough fluff you may have a cavity after all this sweet👀

Please enjoy!

Masterlist

Percy puts the final bauble on the Christmas tree and stands back to admire his work. The tree glitters brightly, a combination of tinsel and the soft yellow lights wrapping around the branches. The low melody of Christmas music comes from the small radio sitting on the bookshelf and the coco steaming on his coffee table looks more than inviting. He figures if he, and his band of misfit daddy and/or mommy issue group of friends, couldn't go home for Christmas he would do his best to bring the festivities here. The one person he really wants here is going to California for the holidays, something he hasn't done in years, and although Percy is disappointed he knows his friends will make the most of the time anyway.

He collapses onto his couch, staring at his hard work and takes a small sip from the steaming mug. His laptop is silently playing some Christmas movie or the other and the mountain of notebooks and pens on the table shake precariously. A small collection of weathered envelopes sits to one side; cards for his friends. They had promised no gifts, as they do every year, and instead sought to make the cheesiest, funniest, most tear worthy cards. There were different categories and if you won you got to pick the holiday games or what happens to the losers.

A single knock at his door pulls a frown onto his face. He considers ignoring it, mostly because he wasn't expecting anyone, but it starts back up a moment later and he resigns to a baseball bat and a cautious glance. He eases the door open and bursts out laughing as he sees who's behind it.

"What?" His unexpected guest gives him a wide eyed look, "Did I forget pants or something?"

"I thought you were a really polite murderer."

"What?" Confusion is etched so perfectly across that beautiful face Percy can't help but laugh again.

"Come in my love," He moves out the way and let's his boyfriend pass.

Just as he closes the door again Jason Grace pulls him by the wrist and crashes their bodies together.

"I missed you," The blonde breathes, and he has to hide the shiver that races up his spine at those husky words.

"We saw each other two days ago?"

"Maybe I'm an addict."

"Please kiss me. Right now."

And those blue eyes glitter with joy as their lips meet. It is soft and patient and full of sweet wonder. Jason threads his hands through those black curls and slants his head slightly, trying to get closer, if that were even possible. Percy swipes his tongue across the blonde's lip and his mouth parts in a little gasp. Their kiss deepens, turns to languid exploring and content passion.

When they break apart they are out of breath and the smiles taking over their faces make the sun look dim.

"Missed me that much huh?"

"More," A golden hand strokes his flushed cheek.

"What are you doing here?" He leans into the hand, looks up, into that adoring gaze, "I thought you were going to Cali to be with your father?"

"He has a last minute work trip," The blonde rolls his eyes, "I'd rather spend the holidays with you anyway."

"Well the gang is coming over tomorrow but we have tonight and every day after that all to ourselves."

"Who knew we'd be here?" Jason sighs, laying one of Percy's hands against his thundering heart.

"Not me," He giggles, "I thought I'd be spending my Christmas pretending I haven't been pining over you and maybe drinking unhealthy amounts of coco."

His boyfriend scrunches his nose, "Why do you even like the stuff? It tastes like bitter bean water."

"I think you're talking about coffee," His green eyes sparkle with amusement.

"Ugh don't even get me started on that stuff. Tea is the only valid hot beverage." The blonde huffs as they stow his stuff in the bedroom and flop down on the couch.

"You are such an old man," He shakes his head, rubbing a thumb over his palm.

"What time is everyone else coming tomorrow? And who is?"

"They'll be here between eleven and one because I told them ten. And it's Frank, Haze, Leo, and Reyna. Everyone else is with their families."

Jason snuggles into him, hair tickling his neck as he rests against his shoulders. A muffled yawn escapes him and Percy's heart clenches for the gentleness of the situation.

"You want some tea?"

"No," He yawns again, "I'll need to pee every five seconds in the night."

He laughs, and his boyfriend whips his body up, eyes wide with horror, "Sorry that was probably too much information."

"Are you kidding I’ve seen you throw up your guts because of food poisoning. That was hilarious."

"Shut up," Jason mumbles, golden cheeks heating, "We don't talk about that."

"I think it's the only time I've ever seen you look disheveled."

He shudders, laying his head back on Percy's shoulder, "I never went to feel like that again. I swear I was dying."

They settle into the quiet, the hum of the radiator and the low music still playing from the radio washing over them. Jason intertwines their fingers, tracing patterns against the back of his boyfriend's beautiful brown skin. And that's how they fall asleep, slowly and indulgent. As if they can hang up time on a hook and take it down when they need it next.

When Percy's alarm starts playing the next morning he groans loudly and stretches out. His boyfriend mumbles something and snuggles further into his side. He strokes a hand through those sunlight strands and drops a kiss on his forehead.

"I have to get everything ready, my love."

"Don't leave," He garbles, "You warm."

"I promise I'll be back. Why don't you go sleep in the room. You'll be more comfortable there"

"Want you," His voice is raspy with sleep and Percy has to stop himself from yanking his boyfriend by the hoodie and planting a passion fueled kiss on his lips.

"If I don't set up we'll never be ready by the time the gang comes."

Jason simply holds his arms up, blue eyes unfocused and gives him a lopsided smile. With a sigh that hides his amused affection he loops his arms under the blonde's, wrapping them around his back, and grabs his legs.

"You ready my love?"

A nod, and fumbling kiss into his neck is the reply. And then Percy is lifting up his boyfriend and carrying him through the apartment and into his room.

"Mhmm," Jason hums onto his skin, "Smells like you."

"You like it?"

"Smells good," He bobs his head as he snuggles into the duvet, "Like ocean and rain."

Percy just smiles and brushes his lips across the blonde's gently, "Sleep."

As he turns to walk away Jason catches his wrist and tugs him back.

"Stay," His blue eyes are wide with pleading, "Please."

"But i—" He starts, and then he's falling onto the bed and wrapping his arm around his boyfriend, "We are going to be so late."

Jason kisses his cheek, his nose, his other cheek, before finally reaching his lips.

"Iss okay," He's already falling back asleep.

Their breathing slows, and they find each other once more, in a land as perfect as this one.

***

"Well good morning lover boys," A delighted voice squeals.

Percy moans, muttering something unintelligible and buries himself into the sheets.

"I take it nobody has ordered our Christmas feast or started on the Eggnog Nogfest?" Another voice giggles.

"Go, sleep, warm." He tries to form a coherent thought.

"If y'all don't get your asses up right now I'm pouring ice water on both of you." A husky growl comes from right over them.

Ocean eyes blink open as he struggles to bring the room into focus.

A scary, bright-eyed Reyna is glaring at them and Leo is leaning against the door frame, mirth swimming in his expression.

"Finally," Hazel laughs, "So can we get this party started?"

"Ugh," Percy groans, "What time is it?"

"Half twelve. We let ourselves in after knocking at your door so long your neighbor came to tell you off for having sex in the kitchen."

"What?" He isn't awake enough for Leo's explanations.

"Cause you know banging against the wall?" His friend prompts but Percy just waves him off and rubs at his eyes, nudging Jason to get up.

"So when's lunch?"

Frank steps into the room with a reassuring smile, "On the way. I just ordered."

"Are we having Christmas in here then?" He asks.

"Sounds like a plan to me," Reyna shrugs.

And before Percy can protest Leo is catapulting onto the bed and Hazel is flopping over their legs.

"Wow Jase," She pokes at the blonde, "You bony shins are really comfortable against my spine."

"Who asked you to collapse onto my bones?" He grumbles, trying to wake himself up.

"Who asked you to be sleeping on Christmas morning?" She shoots back cheekily.

"Touchè." He grins, moving over to make her comfortable.

"Well," Percy looks at his friends, eyes shining, "What are you two waiting for? Get on here!"

Reyna and Frank shake their heads, like the parents they were so rightfully labeled, but happiness sparks in their eyes and they dive under the covers.

"So who wants to play Go Fish or Forfeit?" Leo smiles gleefully.

A shout of excitement goes up and they all shuffle into a circle, the blue-threaded black silk duvet being tucked around them. He grabs the double pack of cards he keeps at his nightstand and distributes seven per person.

"Everyone know the rules?" He asks.

They all nod. So the Christmas festivities begin.

And there in that room, on that bed, Percy and his friends know what warmth feels like, and the glittering in their eyes can only mean love.

[ninjakitty15]

Cold As Death (Loki)

Chapter One: Looks That Could Kill

By all accounts, today should've been like the countless other days before it. Just another day stuck in a glass cell with the occasional "scientist" trying to figure out how to harness something no regular schmuck or mortal could hope to grasp by poking, prodding, and bleeding me. But this was Hydra for you, try to change one idiots mind, and several more idiots tell you you're wrong. German, American, or other, there are evil idiots in every corner of every world, that's for damn sure. At this point I couldn't figure out why they still kept me here, locked away from everything when they couldn't what they wanted from me. They already tried torturing it out of me like pain would make me crumble, I just ended up wincing or laughing depending on what they did as there were times I actually wasn't sure I felt anything, not because they did it often enough or it was that bad, I was just sorta dead inside so some nerve endings didn't always work.

The only thing remotely unusual about today though was it wasn't as busy where they stashed me, hands locked in power dampening shackles and a metal muzzle to boot. At some point earlier they attempted to keep me sedated and unconscious but I woke myself back up once they left me alone thinking I was no longer a problem. Amateurs. As I sat in the middle of the cell, eyes closed but fully alert and coherent, I felt before I ever heard a presence that felt otherworldly to me. They were silent, seeming to observe with caution as I felt it get closer and start to circle the container then pause right where I knew the controls of the cage to be. There was a fifty fifty chance this presence would let me out, the other half being they come in and another round of human pinata would start but instead of candy it would just be blood and a lot of bad puns and jokes falling out of me, maybe drop a few s/m mentions. Serious folks tend to get real uncomfortable when you get sexual on them. If you can't laugh about sex, you don't have a sense of humor.  A button was pressed on the panel and a door formed in front of me where the glass was and I got a stronger feel of who or what was in front of me on the other side. They were definitely not your average Joe, probably not even human and flowing with a lifeforce not even mutants could possibly obtain. An immortal for sure. They took one step toward me and because this wasn't something I'd encountered since my containment, I instinctively tensed which made them pause again.

"You're awake?" A smooth almost british accented voice, noted softly yet curiously.

I opened my eyes then just to confirm that as the muzzle was holding back my usual smartass responses. They was actually one tall man clad in leather and gold metal, watching me carefully with piercing blue/green eyes. Maybe it was seeing the same ugly mugs every day for gods know how long I've been down here and finally seeing a new face, maybe it was the fact he was wearing my two favorite colors and pulled it off better than anyone else I've seen try that. But damn did he look good. It might also be the killer jawline and physique too. His eyes fixated on the muzzle for a moment and a hardened scowl formed for some reason, surprisingly not twisting the dashing look like it does most angry men. And then suddenly I could speak again but opted to gasp like a dying beached fish because damn did it feel good to not have airways being blocked anymore. Vaguely I wondered if my lips were chapped from the damned thing before smiling maniacally.

"Finally, oral freedom!" I cried overdramatically.  "I don't usually offer though unless its returned, all's fair in love and fun stuff."

The man cracked a small smile and ventured a step closer to me. "What are you? And why are you in here?"

"Could ask you the same thing, hun," i quipped. "And seeing as I was here first, you should answer first."

He chuckled and took a more confident step toward me though his lifeforce strengthened like a guard around him. Before he could answer himself though, a booming and somehow familiar voice called out. "Loki, have you found anything down there?!" Which caused the dude now named Loki to cringe at the interruption and sigh.

"No one here but us ghouls," I told him in answer.

"They have a prisoner down here, brother!" replied Loki though his eyes never left me.

"Prisoner's such a harsh word, I prefer forced resident or illegal obtained house guest," I informed him. "You answer his questions, but not mine. It's because I'm black, isn't it?" I was actually what one would describe in terms of skin color as not recently dead pale white.

"I thought he was answer enough, I'm sure you know of Thor, he likes to play the hero of this realm," Loki replied to me, an eyebrow arched.

"The Norse God of shitty weather? Y'all aren't busy with cooler realms?" I asked.

"This wasn't my choice," was his dry response, making me smile more.

I snickered. "Spoken like a true sibling. So you came down here, an alien immortal, because your big brother told you so. My heart bleeds for you really."

He glared at my unabashed sarcasm and crossed his arms over his chest. "Now answer mine before he comes in and makes a great mess of this place."

"More than the people that came with this building already have? That's gotta take talent. But I'll bite. They hunted me down gods know how long ago and attempted to extract something from me that makes me awesome, didn't work obviously or they'd make a mess not even your brother could trump and we wouldn't be here talking. Too valuable to be killed, though they couldn't if they tried, too stubborn to be experimented on. Where'd they go anyway? Are you guys the reason I didn't get my daily prodding?"

"My brothers...friends dealt with the ones they could find, if they're anything like their namesake, I'm sure there's more in hiding waiting for reinforcements or something like that."

Another man leaped down out of nowhere that definitely wasn't Thor as he didn't have long golden locks or a beard, his head and half his face were actually covered by a mask and instead of a hammer was a shield in one arm.

"Thor failed to mention it was a woman," the new dude noted.

"And my gender matters because...?" I wasn't actually offended by this, just messing with him to get a reaction which worked as he genuinely looked bashful, making me cackle. "For all the armor you people wear, it's still surprisingly easy to get under your skin. Maybe I've just been here so long, they're just fashion statements now, if everyone's wearing leather armor count me in!"

"Sorry to disappoint, but it's just us," Loki told me.

"She tell you why they're holding her?" the new man asked him.

"They're trying to steal her powers though I'm not sure what they are yet."

"Only the best kind of course," I told them. "It's all the rage these days, all the Hydra agents gotta have it."

"Well they can find it somewhere else as you're free from them but you can tell us all about the what and why, if you don't mind," the new man said.

"You say that so politely but I'm getting the sense you weren't asking. I'll comply if you give me a hand here, mine are a bit tied up at the moment." I raised my shackled hands as high as able since they were chained to the metal floor beneath me.

The new man was quick to break the chains connecting me to the floor before Loki waved a hand like Jedi Knight and the shackled sprang open, dropping to the floor with a loud clang. I flexed my hands and shook them a bit to get feeling back with them being cramped and slowly got to my feet, staggering a bit as my leg bones cracked from the sudden use and weight. I sighed in sweet relief and relaxed with a slight grin. "Alrighty then!" With my hands free, so was my powers just a bit more and I could collect and stretch it out, testing the waters. That seemed to be enough for Loki to notice being a power person as well and both eyebrows shot up as he probably felt what I was doing. I winked at him before turning to the other guy. "Onward and upward!"

With the new guy leading me out of the building and Loki being my tail, I was on my way to freedom for good before being nearly blinded by that god awful ball of fire in the sky, everyone else calls the sun. I recoiled and refrained from hissing like an angry vampire, stumbling back into Loki in the process who steadied me and smirked at my reaction to daylight. The new guy looked back hearing me cursing at it and raised an eyebrow in question but didn't actually ask anything.

"What? I'm not a morning person," I responded before straightening up but subtly elbowing Loki in the stomach, causing a soft grunt from behind while accidentally hitting my funny bone which wasn't that funny at all as my entire arm went numb and tingly at the same time. "Stupid toned god with your stupid abs of granite."

The new guy stopped walking and pressed a hand against his ear. "We're out, all the agents we could flush out are dealt with. A ride would be nice." Ah he was talking on a com of some kind it seems. How high tech yet old school. Within a few moments, an even more hightech fighter plane of some kind hovered low enough for him to climb in first then offer his hand to pull me up as I was unfortunately not remotely as tall or long legged as either man near me. I looked around the plane curiously to see another man and a redhaired woman at the front as pilots, the woman looking back and landing her eyes on me as well.

"Are you the prisoner Thor spoke of?" she asked.

"I'm the illegally obtained house guest, yes." Loki snickered behind me and I reminded myself not to elbow him again as my arm still hadn't gotten proper feeling back.

The woman smiled as well and nodded. "Buckle up then, we're heading back to base, could get bumpy. All good back there, Steve?" she called after the first new guy who was now Steve.

"Ready when you are," he answered, sitting at the tail end of the machine.

The plane rose up and shot forward at an illegally unsafe speed above the city. Loki had settled across from me, eyes ever studying me but unlike the agents that actually did and more, they weren't malicious or power hungry, just cautious and curious. I decided to test his resolve then and locked my eyes on his in an unwavering staring contest. "First one to blink loses."

"Is that why they muzzled you? Because if you're not under their skin, you're cracking jokes?" he asked.

"If you don't have a sense of humor you don't have much to live for and that's how they win. Also no, it's not how I talked, but who I talked to or when it wasn't them."

"To contain your powers, like they did your hands then. And they didn't get anything from you?"

"What I have can't be drained or pulled out or copied, it's not specifically found in something like DNA or an organ or something physical even. Those guys claim to be scientists but real scientists accept facts as they are when proof is found and I'm living proof they're all frauds with no results. I bet they don't even have a Ph.D."

"They're Hydra, they're funded by power and money, not degrees and universities," Steve spoke up.

"So you're telling me they just pulled a few crazy people with crazyass theories on things from a hat and told them they're scientists now? I should've gone to college there, I wanna have money and be told I have a job with more money. All I got from mine a piece of paper saying I know some things and then years of disappointment from being unemployed. I probably look good in a lab coat too."

"A stark difference from your current attire of all black and hooded," Loki pointed out.

I snorted. "All they let me wear after ruining the one I was caught in from their experimentation, they thought the attire should fit the power, how unimaginative is that? Let's just advertise exactly what I can do to everyone around me, that'll throw them off for sure."

"And what can you do?" he challenged.

"Uh-uh, spoilers sweety. A preview of which will cost you extra."

"But we just gave you a free ride," chipped the male pilot.

"Hey, you're not part of this conversation, and I don't even know where we're going, this could be a free ride to something worse. Like Shield or the dentist."

"Bad experience? Ate too much candy as a kid, didn't you?" the pilot guessed.

"If you think there's such thing as too much candy, then your childhood sucked and I pity your past."

"Tony's gonna love this one," mused the female pilot. "What's your name?"

"I've been out of custody for like 15 minutes and finally someone asks! It's Noelle, Nell for short. And you pilots are...?"

"About to land for starters," the man said. "I'm Clint, she's Nat, and we're at base so everyone out of my plane."

"That's Tony's plane actually," quipped Loki as the plane landed and everyone unbuckled. "Come along, meet the rest of my brother's friends."

[moonbythecabstan]

We're Up Against The Wall (Know I Like It Like That) - Part 1

Rated: M

Pairing: M/M

Fandom: World Wrestling Entertainment

Relationship: The Miz/Dolph Ziggler

Summary: A surprise visit from Mike's good friend takes a surprising turn.

Mike flicked his thumb over the screen, skimming the posts scrolling past with vague interest. He wasn't one for mindless social media perusing, but waiting on his wife usually took quite a while. Especially when she had her girls with her. Their giggles heard every time he peeked into the room to check on how much longer he'd be waiting. Left with nothing else to do, he took to looking through Instagram. Tossing a double tap out here and there, smiling at the many pictures of his friends doing interesting things in their lives.

He glanced at the time at the top of the screen when his restlessness got the better of him, groaning when he found only three minutes passed by. How was it time moved so slow when you desperately wanted things to hurry up? Waiting on your wife and suffering through workouts being the times when you wanted the minutes to fly by. Yet they merely crawled. Dragged.

There was a knock at the door that startled him out of his silent griping. He furrowed his brows at the door like maybe he imagined the sound, but it came again. A rhythmic knocking he recognized with a grin. Pushing up off the couch to greet his friend as he pulled the door open wide.

"Hey, man! Didn't expect you to drop by today." Dolph Ziggler, in classic shades and red Motley Crue shirt (sleeves cut off because of course), nodded to him. Ponytail flicking jauntily back and forth as he shifted weight from the left to the right, a hint of teasing to the 'apologetic' smile he offered.

"Yeah, well. I was in town and... I mean, you know how it is. Better to drop in on a friend than go out to some expensive establishment in town." He paused, head tilted and lips pursed for a moment. "It's cool that I'm here, right?" He leaned over to one side and then the other, seemingly checking behind Mike. Probably wondering if they were going out or if his wife had something planned for them.

After all, Mike was dressed in a casual but still nice outfit. Jeans, blazer, clean white t-shirt. His nicest boots. He figured there was still about twenty minutes before he'd even be close to leaving the house anyway, so he nodded and invited Dolph inside. It was better than sitting bored in the living room, something playing on the television and staring at the wall while his thoughts ran away with him.

Not possible to be bored when Dolph was around. That anyone knew.

"So, judging by your nice clothes and pretty face I assume you're going out soon." Mike dropped back onto the couch, though Dolph remained standing. Glancing from where Mike sat to somewhere down the hall. With a hum, he got into a more comfortable position. Effectively rumpling his shirt and blazer, something he was surely going to be nagged about when it was time to go.

"Yeah we've got some business stuff to attend to. And then dinner at this new steakhouse. I'm just waiting on wifey to be done with her thing so we can go." He checked his watch, grimacing. "Should be in the next twenty minutes."

"Ah. Hence the letting me come in. Better than talking to the wall. Probably anyway." Mike snorted, nearly running a hand through his hair before remembering he'd styled it already. He dropped his hand listlessly into his lap, puffing air out of his mouth up at the ceiling.

"Trust me. It's a much better alternative. What are you doing in town anyway? I thought you'd be up in New York by now?" If he remembered correctly, Dolph had some... thing or other scheduled soon in New York. Of course, he could barely keep up with his schedule, never mind a friend's.

"I do, but that's not for a few days. Well, technically two, but I figured it would be fun to visit my brother for a bit. Except he's apparently busy. Then I thought, 'Hey, Mike probably wouldn't mind a buddy' and here I came." He certainly appreciated it. It had been a little while since they really got to hang out. Usually one of them was busy doing something else or they were hanging out with their group of friends at a party or some formal event.

It wasn't the same as just chilling out. Shooting the shit. Catching up.

"Glad you did. You don't know how long a minute can stretch until you're waiting for someone to get ready to go." Dolph laughed, sunglasses now hanging on his shirt collar and his smile reaching his eyes. Blue as the California sky outside his window.

"Brutal." Then he took a step back, glancing down the hall again and smiling in apology. "Mind if I use the bathroom real quick?"

"Sure. Go ahead. You know where everything is, right?" Dolph nodded, already heading out of the room. Something about him a bit more...highstrung than usual. Mike wasn't sure what it was about him, but he let the musing go in favor of heading for the kitchen. Seeking one of his healthy snacks since it would be a good while before he'd be eating anything.

Not even five minutes later, his phone buzzed on the counter. Curiosity piqued, he set aside the mustard bottle he'd been examining for an expiration date and plucked the device up. Brows furrowing when he found Dolph's message notification there. An amused thought crossed his mind of Dolph stuck in the bathroom without toilet paper or something, though that disintegrated quickly into curiosity when he unlocked his phone and read the actual text.

"Hey, you gotta come check this thing out in your guest room. What is he talking about- guest room?" He tried to think of what in the world Dolph could have found in the guest room, shuddering at the thought of a rat or something being in there. His phone buzzed again, a 'hurry up miz' making him roll his eyes as he pushed away from the counter and walked quickly to where Dolph was waiting for him.

"Alright, what is i- mmph?" The moment he was through the door, it shut quietly behind him. Dolph crowding him up against it. A dangerous and enticing gleam in his eyes. He nearly spoke again, his thoughts shooting off in a hundred directions as he scrambled to understand what was happening, what he'd walked into, but Dolph shushed him. Tilting his head once towards the adjacent wall.

And then he heard it. Talking. It was muffled through the wall, but he recognized the higher frequency of women chattering together. Giggling and speaking in shrill voices that carried into the next room. That being the one he was in currently, Dolph watching him carefully. Heat in his gaze that made Mike swallow. His throat suddenly very dry.

"I believe I remember you once mentioning something about how you've fantasized about this. About us going at it in the room next to the one she's in while getting ready." Oh God. He remembered that? Mike vaguely remembered one of the times they hooked up while out of town, he'd been completely blissed out and barely able to put coherent thoughts together. Rambling on about something while kissing along the throat that tasted of salt and smelled of thick musk. Dolph's fingers trailing along the skin of his back and chest, sending little shivers through his body.

Afterwards, when he had his bearings, he remembered saying something along the lines of what Dolph said to him just now. Cringing in embarrassment and praying Dolph either hadn't heard him or wasn't able to pay attention any better than Mike was. Not that it wasn't truem he was ashamed to say, but he preferred to keep such fantasies to himself. Not wanting anyone, not even Dolph, to know some of the things he really wouldn't mind doing.

Apparently he'd hoped in vain, because the man heard and remembered. Obvious in the smirk he wore as he looked him over.

"Um, I was kind of hoping maybe you didn't hear me when I said any of that." Curiosity sparked in darkened eyes, Dolph humming lightly as he considered him for a moment.

"Why? I mean, it's not the best idea you could have in terms of keeping people from finding out. But apparently that gets you hot, and who am I to deny someone something like that? I'm game if you are." It hit him rather suddenly what exactly Dolph was proposing. What was on the table here. He really wished it didn't have him flushing head to toe. Didn't have his heart hammering at the mere thought.

He wished he didn't want to do this. It was wrong on so many levels.

But damn it he did.

Still, he found himself hesitating. "I don't know..."

Dolph leaned in close, their bodies just nearly brushing, and lightly slid his nose against the underside of Mike's jaw. Pulling a sigh out of him and making his eyes flutter closed. It had also been a while since they got to be together like this, rarely ever alone or somewhere they could feasibly be alone.

He didn't like to admit it, but he missed this. There was something insanely addicting to it. The adrenaline coursing through his veins. The knowledge he was doing something he shouldn't. Their natural chemistry snapping and crackling between them when they touched. Kissed. Their passion burned so hot, so bright, and together it was absolutely blinding. Threatening to burn them to ashes.

Every time they got together left Mike wanting more. He couldn't, really shouldn't, but still he craved. Still found himself thinking about it. Once or twice even dreaming of it, an awkward situation he felt immense shame over while sitting on the closed toilet seat. Head in his hands. Drying sweat leaving his skin sticky. Grimy.

"It's up to you. Whatever you want." In his opinion, though Dolph was trying to make it like the final decision was Mike's to make (and, he supposed, in a way it was since he could technically walk away), Dolph also wasn't playing very fair. Ambushing him in the guest room. Leaning in close, keeping him trapped against the door with his body. Teasing him. Smelling as good as he did. Looking like he did.

Looking at him like that.

Really it wasn't fair at all. Because whether he wanted to or not (he totally did) they were definitely doing this. He had no possible way to fight Dolph, or ignore the hum of energy under his skin. And Dolph knew that. Knew just how to push Mike's buttons to get what he wanted. A reaction. A favor.

And behind closed doors, whatever he wanted in bed.

Not that Mike was, like, complaining. He loved making people happy. Would do anything to do so. What they wanted to do he would do delightedly. Diligently. That applied about ten-fold in the bedroom.

"You know I want." He spoke lowly and with slight irritation because they both knew Dolph knew this. Far too smug for his taste, knowing Mike would play right into his hand. Dolph, grinning, tugged him off the door. Letting out a quiet yelp when Mike suddenly charged him, taking the control right out of his stupidly smug hands. He licked heated kisses into Dolph's mouth while curling around him. Absorbing the pleased moan Dolph let out and kissing back harder. With earnest fervor.

Hands squeezed at his shoulders, fingers then trailing along the back of his neck. Bodies pressed firmly together. His ears picked up loud laughter from the next room and he broke the kiss with a gasp to trail lips along the stubbled jaw. Squeezing his fingers into Dolph's waist, a low sound next to his ear making his hair stand on end.

Muffled conversation continued from the other side of the wall his back thumped into, Dolph whispering against his throat. He grasped tightly to whatever parts of the man he could, taking a shape inhale when fingers picked at where his shirt was neatly tucked into his pants. A shiver running up his spine when quick tugs freed it, hand slipping underneath and nails biting into his sensitive skin.

He wasn't sure how much teasing he could really take like this, praying Dolph took mercy on him but knowing the chances were slim. It was rare they got this, even rarer in the situation they were in, and Dolph wasn't known to squander an opportunity laid so perfectly for him. Trust him on that one.

Fingers plucked at buttons, getting through three before Dolph invaded his space again. A heady scent bulldozing his senses and making him dizzy. Dolph always smelled good, but this was something else. He'd happily drown in whatever bottle this stuff came in, that's how good it was.

"Gonna have to be extra quiet, you know that? They could hear you." Another button undone, his shirt looser across his chest. Falling just a centimeter more open. He felt himself arching, trying to break free or maybe draw closer to the other man. To melt completely into him. "Can you actually do that? Can you keep quiet?"

He swallowed thickly.

"Yeah. Yeah I'll- I'll manage." Another button, Dolph leaning back and shooting him a twisted smile he felt deep in his gut. Leaving him to question just how well he'd be able to manage not alerting anyone in the next room what was transpiring.

"We'll see about that." And then, without warning, he dropped to his knees. Fingers making quick work of Mike's belt, the leather snapping as it was tugged from around his waist and tossed onto the (thankfully carpeted) floor. Dolph glancing back at it and making a face.

"Next time, we'll try the laundry room. I remember it has a hard floor." His response dried on his tongue as eager hands wasted little time with buttons and zips. Mike wheezing, clenching his jaw to keep from making any other sounds, when Dolph's left hand slid across his skin. Pressing firmly but gently into his stomach while eyes watched him with open curiosity.

"Hmmm. Usually can get at least a squeak out of you with that one. Going to have to work harder, aren't I?" Squeezing his eyes closed, he counted to five in his head and let out a steady breath. Trying to center himself and ignore the delicious tingling all over his body.

"You're trying to break me...on purpose?" Dolph hummed, smiling sweetly while tugging down snug dress slacks and briefs a few inches. Cool air skating across his skin and making bumps rise up his arms. A tremor in his thighs. Damn him.

"It makes this a little more interesting, don't you think? Just like that time you did something really similar when I was on that conference call with those really important people I told you about? Remember that?" He did, and that had been pretty entertaining. Dolph's strained voice and broken sentences delighting him to no end.

He was quickly coming to realize it was not nearly as fun on the opposite end. Especially when he liked being vocal. Noisy. Sharing his...appreciation.

"If we're caught-" A pointed look.

"Don't get us caught. Simple." If only it were. He had a feeling this was not going to be anything near easy or simple for him.

[fics-not-tragedies]

White Christmas: Part One ❄

one - two - three - four

For @letoursilencebreaktonight​ who’s also obsessed with Mr Hiddleston, I love you, you’re my frien 💖

STORY SUMMARY: You, a well known and respected doctor, plan a Christmas Eve ball to raise money for the foundation you’re a part of. Few famous people attend it and Tom Hiddleston is among them.

Words:  4078; Warnings: none, unless you want a warning for drinking, then you have it; Summary: You’re anxious about every little thing even though the party started, but that quickly changes when you’re approached by no one else but Tom Hiddleston himself.

Hiddleston tag list:

@letoursilencebreaktonight​​; @kinghiddlestonanddixon​​; @penwieldingdreamer​;

Sparkling chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, the light reflecting in the polished gold of the embellished columns that lined the walls and accentuated the staircase majestically, the heavy drapes pulled up by the windows, illuminated and shimmering as the flames of the candles on each table danced, the ballroom had transformed into the perfect setting for the magical night you hoped no one wouldn’t forget so soon.

The room was slowly filling with more and more people as you felt the anticipation rise inside you, thrilled that the event looked out to become a success. You recognized quite a few important and famous faces instantly, and you knew they meant business, leaving you hopeful to raise a good sum tonight.

You, along with the other women at your foundation, had worked for weeks, months to make this event possible, planning, inviting, networking, raising money and now, the night was finally here. And even though everything seemed to be going according to plan, you couldn’t shake that anxiety, that fear that in at least one crucial moment, something would go wrong.

But there was only so much you could do now, nothing really but watch closely to be sure to notice issues before anyone else in order to prevent them in advance, keep an eye on everything and overlook the event and make sure you would really reach your goal tonight, would really make everyone see the vision you had in mind when planning this event.

It wasn’t just about raising money to support those who struggle daily due to their illnesses, who can’t have a normal life, who can’t raise their children themselves - you also wanted to show everyone that even though you’re a woman, you are capable of making a change somehow, capable of making greater things, even though people doubted your strength when you began your career.

Women in beautiful evening dresses, along with more businessmen in expensively tailored suits entered the warm space from the cold, faces flushed as they warmed up, their eyes wide, gleaming with wonder when they took in the extravagance of the ballroom dipped into a golden light. Some were already starting to sway gently to the music the live band was playing.

You had managed to get an extraordinary singer for tonight, knowing it would be one of the finest aspects of entertainment of the evening. Already though, the way the guests’ heads turned, they stopped to admire the setting, it filled you with joy and a sense of great pride because you managed to make the most of the resources you’d been given for tonight.

Soon, all the guests had found their tables and you went to sit at one in the front with the other women from your foundation, one of your friends to your right instantly taking your arm and leaning over to you, “You don’t look like you’re enjoying yourself. It’s looking so good.”

You smiled, shaking your head to ease her mind, “I am enjoying myself, I really am. And I’m aware it looks good, I’m delighted. But something might still go awfully wrong…”

“Oh, always the perfectionist, aren’t you? Everything is going to be fine, trust me” she said confidently, giving you a reassuring nod, “We’ve thought of everything, thought out everything that could possibly go wrong, and we set in motion all possible precautions. Please, my dear, you deserve to enjoy this night too.”

You breathed out shakily, trying to internalize her words because you knew she was right, you worked hard and you could still enjoy the evening even if you had to keep an eye on everything, making sure that it all was going smoothly.

Once everyone was seated, the music slowed, decreased in volume, then paused, as soon as the president of your foundation took the small stage that was decorated with artificial sparkling snow, situated at the far end of the large room, all the round tables facing it and the quiet conversation and laughter subsided. It never took much for her to have a full room’s undivided attention, especially now in her ruby red dress with golden embroidery on the fabric over her chest and a hint of golden satin material covering her shoulders, she drew everyone’s gaze effortlessly.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!” she called, her voice rising in pitch as she stood at the center of the stage, “I would like to give a warm welcome to all our guests, everybody who has had a part in making our vision we had for this very special night become a reality, our friends, our families, friends we have yet to make tonight. We are going to be accepting donations throughout the whole evening, myself and the other wonderful ladies wearing the gold pin that stands for our foundation so do not be hesitant to approach us, we will be delighted to discuss the different ways the money raised tonight will be spent, most importantly to support the people in need and their families.”

She paused, gave one of those smiles that you knew had just won over half the businessmen that would potentially donate something and the room filled with clapping, spreading around the tables and she looked contently over the sea of people watching her, applauding her. She waited, cleared her throat in order to signal that she wanted to continue speaking after a moment and just as slowly and gradually, the clapping subsided respectfully once more.

“From me and my sisters, a merry Christmas, and a wonderful evening! Enjoy the entertainment and the dishes we’ve selected but most importantly, be kind to one another.”

And with those words, she exited the stage, her heels clicking on the floor for only a brief moment before the music picked up once more and the waiters began carrying the food inside, placing an entree in front of each guest. You had spent a week on tasting different foods with one of the other ladies, had selected each dish carefully, making sure to only serve the best. And no matter how anxious you were about the evening, you had also been looking forward to it, so happy that it had finally come and you would get to see what you worked so hard for unfold.

You discussed some of the charity work you would do, what you would put the money to while in the background, the highly anticipated singer took the stage in front of the band, a few heads turning, smiles appearing on people’s faces when her mellow voice echoed melodically through the room, lifting your heart at least a little from the depressing reality you were attempting to combat through charity tonight.

Once you finished dessert, the first people were already standing, switching seats to converse with people at different tables, some even spreading out as far as the other side of the room, close to the dancefloor. You volunteered to break the first ground if no one else would initiate it, although you secretly hoped it wouldn’t come to that because unlike most of the other women in your foundation, you came here alone.

Before you knew it though, several couples had taken to the dancefloor, spinning around to the now more upbeat music and the rich voice of the remarkable singer, dancing, swaying, turning the heads of anyone that heard her, walked by her purposely once she caught their eye.

You stood near the stage, sipping on a glass of champagne, overlooking the crowd watchfully to assess the atmosphere, when he caught your eye.

And for a brief moment, you couldn’t look away. Even from across the room, that pair of fair, blue eyes caused your heart to skip a beat, the connection lasting merely a few seconds until a waiter blocked your view and he picked up one of the glasses from the waiter’s tray, his eyes still locked on yours once they were visible to you once more and you found your face flush, flustered as he had the nerve to keep up his stare, making you shift nervously.

You found it in you finally to lower your gaze, the intensity of the stranger’s eyes having quite the effect and you attempted to compose yourself, taking another sip from your champagne, the pleasant tingles fizzing down your tongue and tickling your throat.

Once you had gathered up the strength to lift your gaze again, the same pair of eyes corrupted the steady rhythm of your heartbeat once again and this time he was closer, two more steps, then just one and he stood right in front of you, his large blue eyes having effortlessly increased their effect on you tenfold.

He was silent for a moment, brought his glass to his lips and took a sip, exhaling before the low tone of his voice hit you for the first time, “Good evening” the English charm of this man was beyond real borders and you gave him a slow nod, once you managed to tear your eyes from his in order to be able to form a coherent sentence, you noticed his gaze brushing over your features and the way he looked at you, you had never seen anyone regard you quite the same.

“Sir” you said respectfully, clearing your throat when you realized how dry your voice sounded.

The right corner of his mouth twitched upwards, just the hint of amusement on his hard features lightening up his face immensely, even before he toyed with the small smile around his lips. He was wearing one of the most impeccable suits you’ve ever seen with your own eyes, his dark hair neatly styled, brushed backwards, so they won’t fall onto his forehead.

“How may I help you, Sir?” You asked in a desperate attempt to not let the nervousness he evoked in you pop up onto the surface.

His face broke out into a smirk and he lifted his free hand. To your relief you noticed that there was no ring on it, “May I?”

A knot had formed in your throat and you didn’t know if you had it in you to speak now, accept him because there was no way you were denying his offer, but you were surprised nonetheless, and you had to win some time to calm yourself before you would be able to dance with this incredibly handsome stranger, be close enough for him to notice your heart racing, “You want to dance with me, Sir?” You asked, in hopes to stall him for just a few seconds.

“If you have nothing against it, Ma’am.”

As much as you were trying to appear unfazed, unaffected by the look in his eyes, the deep drawl of his dulcet voice, the rush of pink into your cheeks betrayed you. You didn’t know what it was that made it absolutely impossible for you to take your eyes off him, but there was something that had drawn you in quite abruptly. There was no doubting his attractiveness, but there was more to it, it were his ways of interaction, his cheek, how much he had expressed simply with his eyes and the minimal amount of words he uttered so far. And you wanted more.

He wiggled his fingers suggestively when you didn’t accept his hand right away and you could not suppress your laugh, drinking down the rest of champagne remaining in your glass before placing it down on a passing waiter’s tray.

He did the same, one large step to the side to reach, then he was back by your side, cocking an eyebrow up expectantly, “Would you like me to get you another drink first?”

To your own surprise, you caught yourself shaking your head eagerly, finally allowing yourself to take the enticing stranger’s hand, “Oh no” you said, holding your breath as his warm hand enveloped yours and he gently led you forward, approaching the dancefloor where a number of couples was already dancing, swaying, twirling.

“No?” He questioned, turning to place his hand on the middle of your back respectfully, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. When he drew you in and you managed to regulate your breathing, you were surrounded instantly by a pleasant cloud of something musky, with just a hint of cigarette smoke and you leaned closer, craving more as you moved with him, allowing him to lead you into a fast-paced waltz.

“Not to change your plans” you said quickly, licking your lips, attempting to gather your wit, “I just don’t want to be absolutely… wasted, in case something goes wrong” you explained.

He raised his eyebrows, then nodded understandingly as his eyes wandered down to the small pin secured to your dress to the side of your bust, “Oh, yes, right…” he said, “you’re one of the brains behind this whole thing, aren’t you?”

You smiled proudly, “Indeed I am. Are you enjoying yourself?” You asked hopefully.

“Oh, certainly” he assured you, “The food was absolutely fantastic, I don’t remember the last time I had a meal quite like that, never have before perhaps.”

His words filled you with joy, lifting your spirits tremendously, “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that” you told him softly.

A genuine smile spread across his face, no cheek, no smirk, “Oh, you’ve done a fantastic job, I can assure you. And I’m not the only one who thinks the same way.”

You sighed, biting your bottom lip, “Are you sure?”

“I swear, Ma’am” he said, letting his gaze wander across the room, and you almost missed it on you there, even though he only took his attention from you for just a brief moment, “Look around the room. It’s truly wonderful.”

Subconsciously, you leaned closer to him, intertwining your fingers with his, “Thank you.”

“Oh, it’s no problem at all, Miss…?”

You looked back at him, telling him your name, your heart fluttering when he repeated it back to you in his deep voice, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards as he savored your name the way it rolled off his tongue.

“Beautiful.”

You blushed a dark flush of red, taking a breath, “What about you?” You asked.

“I’m Thomas” he said. “Hiddleston.”

You raised an eyebrow, your eyes piercing his face and with the sound of his name you were remained why his face seemed so familiar.

“Just Tom, if you will…” he added quickly.

“I think I will settle on that.”

He smirked, then suddenly stepping back, stretching out his arm as the song changed to a more upbeat one and he fell into a foxtrot step sequence. It took you a moment to snap out of it, snap out of pondering his words but then you were all there, twirled into him before dancing back and placing your hand on his shoulder again as he pulled you close, his body much closer to yours now, eyes locked, the intensity of that baby blue making your breath hitch in your throat once more.

The music had now increased in volume and the faster steps required more of your attention, more of your stamina so you settled for just focusing on your bodies moving together for now instead of words, trying to gather as much as you could from just observing him as your heart beats increased in unison, breaths heavier when the song switched to another and you slowly but surely started swirling around the room together, becoming more confident and trusting in each other.

You hadn’t danced like that in a long time, hadn’t quite found a partner that would switch and lead and fall into the rhythm of your every move quite as quick as you liked but right now, things were just falling into place, he picked up every hint, you followed where he led, and it was just easy, you barely had to think about it, your body moving on its own, complimentary with his, and your nervousness was slowly falling from you, the tension replaced with excitement. From one second to the next, you found yourself having more fun that you had in a very long time, especially on the dancefloor.

You lost count of the songs, of the amount of times you changed pace, adjusted your grip on his shoulder, his hand, but noticed specifically the way his hand kept finding its way to your lower back, the way he pulled you closer with every single song and soon, you ended up with your body pressed up against his after a particularly fast-paced tune.

He was panting, the muscles of his chest tense and so were his arms and you were breathing heavily as well, but he never allowed your eyes to disconnect and even though you should have gotten used to it by now, the way they looked like they were staring right into your soul had your knees weaker than ever before.

You were overwhelmed by how close you’d gotten to his stranger, this insanely attractive stranger, in such a short span of time, and you hoped he’d also had enough dancing for now, not because you weren’t having fun, but because you desperately wanted to hear him talk more, the way he’d spoken about his impressive ranks so modestly had you curious, captivated.

“Break time, darling?” He drawled and you found it in yourself to give a nod, breathing out with a shaky sigh, letting your hand slide from his shoulder and letting him lead you off the dancefloor, “Let me get you a proper drink. Don’t you move.”

And with those words, he’d disappeared in the sea of sparkly dresses and expensive suits to head to the open bar, leaving you to your anxious feeling about the event again. For a while, he’d made you forget, made you enjoy the ball like your colleague had instructed for you to.

You smiled when she headed for you as soon as you caught her eye when she passed by, “There you are, dear” she said, leaning closer to you than the average exchange required.

You raised your eyebrows at her expectantly, “What’s the matter?” You asked fearfully, worried that just now when you let your guard down, something had gone wrong.

“I saw you on the dancefloor…” she smirked, bumping your hip playfully with hers.

Despite your momentary confusion, you managed to breathe out with relief. She just wanted to gossip. She loved gossiping about men, “Yes, I’ve been dancing” you said, not giving her quite enough to work with.

“Tom Hiddleston” she said, smirking, “I shouldn’t be surprised that you out of all the women here would catch his eye.”

“What?” you asked, furrowing your brows and stretching out your tired arms, “Do you know him?”

“You don’t?” She asked, blinking in disbelief, “He’s the hottest among all of the actors that came to our event. Also I feel like you should get some time off, watch few of his movies instead of working so hard at the clinic.”

“Here we are, darling.”

You spun around when you heard his deep voice, your heart skipping a beat as your eyes landed on his once more and you absently took the glass he handed you, giving your friend a nod before placing his hand on your lower back and leading you away, only stopping when you resumed your previous observatory position from when he approached you.

He was even more fascinating to you now after that short exchange with your friend, which you wouldn’t have thought possible and you took a sip from the glass he handed you, grimacing as too much of it burned down your throat harshly, “Whiskey?”

“Whiskey” he confirmed with a chuckle, giving you a confident nod, “A good liquor.”

You smirked. You loved a man that could appreciate some good hard liquor, “Chin-chin, love” you said, raising your glass.

“Bless your heart, darling” he let your glass ring with his, taking a sip without breaking eye contact as he watched you over the edge of his glass, “Will you dance with me again, darling?”

“Oh, I’ll be absolutely wasted by then” you laughed.

“But you will still look beautiful out there” he said.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head to cover for the blush in your cheeks, “You’re quite funny, aren’t you?” You teased, playing it off.

“Possibly, but I mean that, absolutely not a joke. Out of all the women at this ball … there’s not a single one that compares to you.”

“Oh, you’re making it up!” you couldn’t believe his shameless compliments, the way he stared. There was not a second for you to slip up, he would see it all, his full attention had been on you since he laid eyes on you for the first time. And you couldn’t deny that it was incredibly flattering and made you feel like you were the only woman worth looking at, simply because he was looking at you.

“I am not” he stated, shaking his head, the corner of his mouth tugging upward with amusement as he regarded you watchfully, “That’s quite stunning dress…”

You swallowed, nervously adjusting the pearly headdress you carefully secured in your hair as you looked down at your body, the emerald colored silky dress flowing down, complementing your figure, its material shimmery, intrinsically beaded, with flowy sleeves, “Thank you” you said quietly, your voice just a hint as you looked back up at him, “I got it just for tonight.”

“Immaculate choice” he remarked, taking another sip from his whisky, “So tell me, what are you doing except for planning such balls? Where could I find you then?”

You laughed, “Except for clinic… probably the local library” you confessed, “I love reading, quite too much I must admit.”

He raised an eyebrow, tilting his head and shifting. It wasn’t much, but his body was noticeably closer now, “Tell me then, darling, what are the best books you recently read?”

“I haven’t read too much that’s been recently been published” you admitted, “I like to scavenge for hidden treasures at the libraries, old poetry collections and novels by the remarkable women.”

“Old poetry you say… I debuted in plays, so those have a very special place in my heart.”

You tried to imagine him in the theater, playing for a whole room of people, not being afraid to do so, like you probably would and you zoned out for a moment, too focused on your thoughts.

“Darling, are you alright?” he asked, his eyes growing wide with concern, the smirk fading from his face. “Let me take you outside, okay?”

“N-No, I’m fine…” you said, not wanting to be an inconvenience.

Tom didn’t listen, already placing down both your drinks on the nearest table before returning to wrap his arm around you, “Is there anywhere we can go to get some fresh air, darling?”

You didn’t find the strength to protest and just navigated him out of the ballroom at the far end, down a short corridor that led to a set of double doors, a large balcony stretching out ahead and despite denying your need for fresh air, you felt instantly more calm as you set foot outside, your heels clicking on the shiny ground and his arm tightened around you, presumably having noticed the small layer of shimmery ice, too.

“Thank you” you said quietly, leaning closer to him almost automatically as you reached the railing at the far end. The balcony faced the impressive back gardens and you looked out in awe.

“Are you alright?” he asked again, fishing out a pack of cigarettes from his top pocket.

“I am” you said quickly, “I just … it’s quite overwhelming discussing literature with you when my patients…”

“Aren’t doing so well back in the clinic you work at?” he asked, trapping the cigarette between his lips and lighting it, “I know that you’re committed to your work, darling, but you need to take rest from time to time and enjoy yourself.”

A sigh of relief escaped your lips, you were glad he didn’t seem to think you’d been insensitive. It seemed he knew just what you meant, what you wanted to say without you finding the right words to express it, he just understood, “Really?”

He nodded, “Yes…” he said, offering you the pack of cigarettes, but you politely declined, “You really need to enjoy this evening at least, you planned it.”

“I enjoy your company, Tom.”

[chelsfic]

Trustfall - August Walker/Female Reader fic Part 1

Part Two now available

A/N: This fic is based on a couple of drabbles that I recently wrote exploring the villainous side of August Walker. I’m basically reworking the plot into a longer fic. I’ve read a lot of fic where Walker is basically an AU good guy version of himself and I really wanted something where he is allowed to be the bad guy. So I wrote it. You can read the drabbles here: Part One; Part Two

So, because this is bad guy Walker (to start) I’ll warn you that there is gun violence in this first part and the reader gets hurt. The rest of the fic will be exploring how Walker stays in the reader’s life and how the relationship gradually transforms from guarded mistrust to eventual acceptance and trust. Hence the title. 

I’m posting this really quickly so I apologize for typos. 

*** You’re making coffee because that’s what you do when you have guests. You offer to make them a hot beverage. It certainly has nothing to do with the fact that you want to hide in the kitchen for ten minutes and catch your breath. And if the five men in your living room are not technically guests…well that doesn’t matter either.

When you enter the living room again, three of them–including the one with a hood over his head–are gone. You guess they’ve moved to another area of the house since you didn’t hear anyone leave. Ethan is sitting on your couch next to the imposing figure of a man you don’t know. Even sitting down you can see that the man is tall and powerfully built. His posture suggests he’s used to being in command and hints at the potential for violence. It’s a frightening prospect, but not unexpected–you got the same vibe from Ethan when he first approached you about setting up the safe house. You try to suppress the shiver of unease as you approach the pair.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Ethan says, taking the mug of steaming coffee from you. “This is Agent Walker. Walker this is Y/N, she owns this house and is kind enough to keep it available to my team….She’s a teacher.”

The last part is tacked on in a monotone and you watch as Ethan’s eyes turn cold and pointed toward Walker. He’s saying, without saying it, that you’re innocent–that you’re not involved in this life the way they are and that you should be protected at all costs. You feel a rush of appreciation for the sentiment, although it doesn’t do anything to calm your nerves.

“Nice to meet you,” you mutter. Your fingers touch as you hand him a mug and his blue eyes flick up to lock with yours.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he says. He’s all business, but his eyes hold yours for another beat and you feel your cheeks flush red. You’ve always hated how easily you blush. He’s handsome, you admit to yourself. Tall, broad-shouldered, dark mustache and stubble along his jaw. He’s very handsome. But the thought is completely abstract. Just an observation in the midst of your chaotic nerves. 

You turn to Ethan and excuse yourself. You’re not needed here and you’d rather not over hear whatever plans they’re working on. You’ll minimize your involvement in whatever way you can. It’s not as if you don’t have a choice. Ethan gave you the choice when you inherited this house from your father and he gave the choice again when he showed up at your door this morning–even though you’d already agreed and accepted the monthly payments in exchange for use of the house. He still gave you a final chance to back out, despite the team’s desperate need. He was a good man.

You retreat to the little room at the back of the house that your father used for a study and you use for a combo office/reading nook. There’s an oversized plush armchair in one corner and a worn desk stacked with homework folders and portfolios in another. Mismatched bookshelves line the walls and the hardwood floor is covered by an old, worn-out oriental carpet. It’s shabby but comfortable. You feel safe in here as you cuddle into the armchair and pull an afghan around your shoulders. You’ll get lost in a book and by the time you poke your head out again, maybe they’ll be gone.

Ethan and the rest of the team leave to head to their rendezvous leaving Walker behind to guard the prisoner. You emerge from your office starving and in search of something to eat. As you cross the hallway toward the kitchen you peek into the living room to find it empty. Walker must be upstairs with the prisoner. You should just leave them be but you remember the brush of Walker’s fingers against yours and the blue of his eyes as you looked up at you. Maybe you’ll offer him something to eat.

Your socked feet don’t make any sound as you dash up the stairs. You walk silently down the hall and you’re about to raise your hand to knock on the open door of your guest room when the voices you heard from the hallway form into coherent words and your hand freezes in the air. They’re talking about Hunt and his team…as if they’re working against them. As if they’re working together. 

Walker’s stance goes rigid and he turns slowly to face you. He’s transformed from the subdued version of himself you met downstairs. Where before there was the potential for violence, now it is very much present, blazing in his glare and lurking under the surface of his tense posture. You watch a muscle in his jaw tick and he shuts his eyes in irritation.

“Fuck,” he hisses and his hand goes to the side arm at his hip. “Nothing is ever easy.”

Your eyes widen in terror as he unclips the gun from his side and points it at you. Everything is happening to fast for your brain to keep up. A minute ago you were thinking about making lunch, now a man is threatening you with a gun. You hold up your hands, palms out, and beg for your life. 

“You don’t have to do this…I won’t…I won’t tell anyone anything!”

You’re backing away from him into the hallway, eyes dancing in every direction but always returning to the sight of his hands cradling the gun, finger tense on the trigger. 

“No…,” you moan. Your back hits the wall and you feel your knees give out as you slide slowly downward. Your legs splay out before you and you feel suddenly, absurdly ridiculous that you’re not even wearing any shoes and you’re about to be shot. 

Walker is standing over you. Your eyes are fixed on his feet and legs too scared to look up and catch sight of the gun pointed in your direction. You flick your gaze upward for an instant and see his face, jaw clenched in anger, eyes burning into you. He’s furious.

“Please don’t do this,” you whimper and pull your legs in to hug yourself into a ball–as if you can somehow disappear if you make yourself small enough.

Walker grunts and leans down, grabbing your right leg and pulling it away from your body. Before you can even begin to struggle he’s straightening it out along the floor and aiming his gun at your calf. 

He looks up at you and you’re caught in his gaze again just like before, a lifetime ago, downstairs. The same blue eyes and dark lashes that you’d found so captivating. Now all you can feel is dull fear. His face is unreadable but he finally addresses you with soft words, “Sorry baby.”

And then he pulls the trigger.

***

You’re only out of the hospital for a week when he comes back. Agent Walker. The traitor. The man who shot you in the leg and left you bleeding on the floor and all alone. 

When the bell rings you curse and struggle up from your position lying on the couch to hobble forward using the crutches you’ve only just been issued. The wound required two surgeries. The doctors tell you that your muscles may have been permanently damaged. You’ll require physical therapy and you may walk with a limp for the rest of your life. There had been questions–questions you didn’t know how to answer–when you first arrived at the hospital. And then, suddenly, there were no more people asking questions. You suppose Hunt and his team had something to do with that. You received a bouquet with a note in your hospital room. They thanked you for your service and wouldn’t trouble you any longer. The status of your home as a safe house was blown.

“Coming!” you call out as you reach the front hallway. 

You struggle to balance on the crutches as you fiddle with the deadbolt. The lock finally cooperates and you swing the door open. You throat goes dry in an instant and you clench your fingers around the doorknob in a white knuckle grip. He’s standing on your doorstep just like he did before, looking hopefully expectant. But this time he’s wearing weathered tactical gear instead of a suit and tie and one side of his face is covered in fresh pink scar tissue. He holds his hands loosely away from his body as if to appear harmless. Ha! Like you could ever forget the danger lurking behind his beautiful eyes.

“What–,” you croak and your mouth closes entirely. You take a moment to clear your throat. “What are you doing here?”

“Y/N,” he pleas, hands outstretched, “I’m not here to hurt you, I just want to talk.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk to you,” you reply, starting to shut the door in his face. 

He steps forward until his body is in the doorway, preventing your movement, “Please, just hear me out and then, if you want, I’ll leave here and you’ll never see me again.”

You mentally curse Ethan Hunt and his stupid team for leaving you in this position. If you were to believe them then you were completely safe because the man before you is presumed dead and no one else should know your address or its significance. He’s wedged half inside, half outside and you’re standing uncomfortably close in order to keep your leverage on the door. It’s painfully obvious how easy it would be for him to overpower you. He’s over six feet tall to your paltry five and a quarter inch height. He’s twice as broad as you are at the shoulders. But he just stands there awaiting your reply.

“Fine!” you sigh and back up awkwardly, nearly tripping over the damn crutches. 

You lead him back to the living room and collapse unceremoniously back into the nest of blankets you’d been cultivating before his unwelcome appearance. Walker perches awkwardly on the other end of the sofa and watches you with a guarded expression. You lift up your bad leg and rest it on a tower of pillows. There’s no cast as the bullet didn’t break any bones, but you’re wearing a brace to keep it immobile while the muscles heal from surgery. Walker has the grace to look ashamed as he sees you struggle to get comfortable, but he wisely makes no move to assist you.

When you’re finally done squirming you look at him expectantly and gesture with your hands for him to get on with whatever it is he came here for. Outwardly you look calm and collected. Inside your heart is racing and your thoughts are in a chaos of confusion. You’ve just allowed this man into your home, the same man who shot you in the *leg* with a *gun* only three weeks ago. Is he here to finish the job? Is he here to get information out of you? Why on earth could he be back here?

He briefly explains what’s happened since you last saw him. The bombs, the chase, the cliff. He’d landed on a ledge, miraculously surviving to terrorize another day, it would seem. And now he’s in the wind, off IMF’s radar and laying low. He has resources, allies, money. But he needs a place to stay. Someplace no one, including IMF, would ever expect.

You huff out an aggrieved sigh, “Why is my home a magnet for trouble?”

“No one will look for me here, Y/N,” he says, the look in his eyes is intense. “And I know you can be trusted.”

“If they think you’re dead won’t they not be looking for you, period?” you ask. “And why do you think you can trust me, Walker? You shot me…remember?”

Walker’s eyes are like chips of ice as he responds, “I can trust you because you know what I’m capable of…if you tell anyone.”

A shiver runs down your spine and you feel yourself shrink back from him into the cushions. So, he isn’t going to stick to the good guy act. Not when you have something he needs. You suppose it’s a relief, not pretending. But it leaves you little choice going forward.

“Y/N,” he goes on, voice softening somewhat. “I know Hunt was paying you. I have the resources available to continue that arrangement. I’ve looked into your background. I know you need the money…”

No, you think. No choice at all.

If you’d like to be tagged, let me know!

@thorins-queen-of-erebor​

[jetsetlife138]

Would love to request 75. :3 The "friends don't do this" with BJ

Summary: Friendship only goes so far. You and Beetlejuice decide to take it to the next level.

Paring: Beetlejuice x fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,600

Warnings: Religious imagery, dirty talk, blow jobs, cum swallowing

Smut Prompt: #75 - “Friends don’t do this kind of shit!”

Your best friend was a dead guy. Huh. Who would have thought?

It was all fun and games at first. When you first discovered him, you tried everything to get him out of your house, even going so far as to hire a paranormal expert who claimed that he could cleanse your home of unwanted spirits. His attempt was lackluster at best.

The man looked like he was about to pass out from fright the first time Beetlejuice appeared to him, a playful smirk plastered on his face. “Y-You must crossover!” The paranormal “expert” bellowed before he hastily reached into his bag and pulled out a crucifix, holding it in front of your ghostly guest. “You have no business here! Get out! The power of Christ-”

“Compels me? Oh, I don’t think so.” Beetlejuice cackled as he twirled his finger and the cross went flying out of the guy’s hands and across the room, falling with a loud thud to the floor.

Shaking violently, the man swallowed hard as he looked back at Beetlejuice, not prepared for the ghoul to teleport right in front of his face and say, “You’re adorable,” before pressing his mouth against the unsuspecting victim in a rough kiss.  

You had never seen anyone run so fast in all your life, earning gleeful laughter from the unwanted intruder. Admittedly, you found it pretty funny, and found yourself laughing right along with him, which didn’t go unnoticed by Beetlejuice. After that, the two of you were thick as thieves, finding genuine joy in each other’s company.

He was constantly seeking reassurance from you regarding your friendship. Of course, he never let up on his cocky, egotistical demeanor, but there were brief moments where you could tell he was being sincere, and truly valued friendship, which moved you. However, that did nothing to suppress his attempts to seduce you. He was a shameless flirt and would always offer to be of sexual service, to which you always replied, “Beetlejuice, we’re friends. That’s it.”

The phrase was always met with a groan, or an eye roll, or some snarky comment, but you knew he was happy with your friendship just the same. He had obviously been lonely before you came along, and if you were being honest with yourself, being around him made you feel better and less lonely, too.

Little did either of you know that over time, you would start to see him in a whole new light. It took you by complete surprise one day when you and Beetlejuice were contently sitting on the couch, watching tv, and you looked over and suddenly… wanted him? It wasn’t too shocking, considering how much you two had actually cared for each other, but still… you never would have thought that you would feel anything sexually for a ghost.

No longer having the willpower to ignore your urges, you uttered, “BJ?”

“Hmm?”

The moment he turned to you, you crushed your mouth against his and kissed him fiercely with a desperate, unspoken need.

Not needing any convincing whatsoever, he moaned against your lips as his tongue begged for entry, to which you happily accepted. You relished in his taste as he explored your mouth before he eagerly took your bottom lip in between his teeth and pulled gently, releasing it shortly after to place soft kisses along your jawline while you breathed heavily with arousal.

Your hands worked their way down to his pants as you tried to make quick work of unbuckling his belt, but you were stopped when he placed his hands over yours. “Whoa! Christ, babe. I thought you wanted to be friends? Friends don’t do this kind of shit!”

You placed a soft peck on his lips and nudged his hands away to continue undoing his belt. “We’re still friends,” you breathed against his mouth. “Just… with benefits.”

He bit his lip and groaned as he shifted forward to remove his jacket before leaning back on the couch, his eyes blown with desire and lust.

Noting his consent and after removing his belt, you slowly started to unzip his pants, purposely running your palm over the obvious bulge inside of them as you did so, earning a breathy groan from his swollen lips. You smiled at his desperate state as you hiked his pants down his hips, just enough to allow his strained cock to spring free of its confinement, pleasantly surprised by his girth.

Moving off of the couch, you fell to your knees onto the floor before pulling him closer to the edge of the couch for easier access. Angling yourself over him, you kissed each side of his hips as he arched his back with anticipation. Just to be a dick, you opened your mouth and blew air over his tip, causing him to sit up and glare at you. “Seriously? You’re going to be a fucking tease? I’m dead and haven’t had any action in a millenia. Have some sympathy.”

Chucking darkly, you pressed on his chest, forcing him to lay back on the couch once more. “Don’t complain or you won’t get anything at all.” He bit his lip and nodded his head in fervent agreement as you positioned your mouth over his fully erect cock once more.

Seductively, you ran the tip of your tongue over his slit in small kitty licks, causing Beetlejuice to inhale deeply, but he didn’t complain or move. With a little more force, you licked along the vein underneath his cock. His body trembled as you took each of his balls into your mouth, one by one, sucking gently while pumping him slowly, barely causing any friction. He whimpered eagerly as you continued nuzzling against his sac, reveling in the effect it was having on him.

After a few more moments of torture, you figured that you had teased him enough, and was getting impatient yourself, realizing how much you wanted to please him. Abruptly, you engulfed the head of his dick, sucking harshly as he pushed his hips forward, desperate for more contact. “Fuuuuck, babe. Oh, shit… feels so fucking good” he mewled as you took more of his cock into your mouth.

Pulling back, you circled the head of his length with your tongue, digging into the slit, which made the demon choke on his own breath and moan wantonly in approval. Hollowing your cheeks, you started to deep throat him, swallowing his length as his head hit the back of your throat. Gagging a bit, you felt tears welling up in your eyes, but you kept going, knowing how good it was making him feel.

“Oh, fuck. Mmph, babe… yes, just like that,” he urged as you sucked him harder, grazing the underside of his cock with your teeth.

It was obvious that he was close when he grabbed your hair roughly and pulled you closer. His back was arched severely and he was trembling with loss of control. Suddenly, you felt a foreign, blissful sensation throughout your entire body.

You choked on his dick, not expecting the pleasurable attack on my netherregions as you pulled off of him, earning a whine from the loss of contact. Once his hand stopped gripping your hair, the feeling ceased and you sat back, dumbfounded. “BJ, what… what the fuck was that?”

“Fuck, babe,” he breathed as he composed himself. “I just wanted to return the favor. Come on, don’t stop.” Okay, so he had sex powers? Huh. Interesting. That was something new. It would definitely benefit you in the future.

Still dazed, you started to pump him again, squeezing your hand slightly and flicking your thumb over his heavily leaking slit. “I think I’m going to like this whole ‘friends with benefits’ thing,” he chuckled, struggling to form coherent sentences.

Unable to find a reason to protest, you enveloped Beetlejuice’s thick cock once more, making obscene slurping noises as you bobbed your head up and down over his length.

A few moments later, his hand once again gripped your hair and the unbelievable pleasure continued to surge through your body. You started to lose your rhythm as the feeling became rapidly overwhelming, but you were still focused enough to flick and roll your tongue in all the right spots, causing Beetlejuice to groan whorishly, only increasing your desire to bring him over the edge.

Not long after that, his girth twitched inside of your mouth, barely giving you a warning before his chilled cum started lining the back of your throat in heavy spurts. He cried out as his orgasm consumed him completely, stuttering, “B-babe, shit! Oh my god…”

It was as if his release heightened his powerful abilities because as he was spilling himself into your mouth, the pleasurable sensation escalated immensely, instantly bringing you over the edge. Pulling yourself off of his length, you shamelessly moaned in bliss as your own release ripped through you violently.

When you regained your composure and came down from your high, you took Beetlejuice’s softening length into your mouth once more to lick up any remnants that you may have left behind when you had pulled off so abruptly. He gasped lightly as you sucked him, weak from his release and over-sensitized.

Once you were confident you sucked him dry, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and crawled next to him on the couch, admiring the way his chest rose and fell calmly. A smile was playing on his lips as his eyes remained closed with euphoric contentment.

He must have felt you staring at him because he then opened his eyes and grinned widely when he turned to you. “Friends, huh?”

Winking at him, you replied, “More or less.”

[rayanyprocrastinates]

Breaking Writer’s Block: 16- MarcoAce- Lucifer (TV) AU

Marco’s eyes narrowed as he watched a lithe form darting away from a pack of burly men that entered the club. “Well that’s interesting.”

“Something catch your eye?” Thatch asked coming up behind him. “Or should I say someone?”

Marco downed the rest of his drink and sauntered up to the group, acutely aware of the figure hiding beneath the piano behind him.

“Can I help you gentlemen?”

“None of your business pal, get out of our way.” The men tried to shove past him but he simply stepped back into their path.

“Seeing as to how this is my club, I’d say it does.” Marco edged in closer, forcing the group to take a collective step back. “Now why don’t you take your pals here and scurry on, you’re killing the atmosphere.” A flash of red eyes had the group scuttling off like rats they were.

“Now that that’s taken care of,” Marco bent to peak under the piano. “mind telling me what they were chasing you for?”

The kid’s name was Portgas D. Ace, well not so much kid as young adult but a kid to him nonetheless. The group of thugs chasing after him were Teach’s men who were trying to exact revenge against his father by targeting him.

At least, that’s what he was able to make out between the bites of food the kid was currently scarfing down. Marco and Thatch watched in gob smacked awe as Ace added yet another empty plate to the already tall tower and he didn’t show any signs of slowing.

Letting him eat gave Marco the chance to take a good look at him. It’s obviously been a while since the last time Ace was able to eat his fill, and his clothes were in tatters and in need of retiring. Ace’s whole demeanor screamed homeless or runaway. Given the fact about his father Marco was leaning more towards the latter. 

“Well Ace, just for safety, why don’t you stay the night? I have plenty of guest rooms upstairs and those neanderthals from earlier won’t be able to come after you again while you’re here.” Marco offered, letting his elbows rest on the counter space between them.

Ace blinked owlishly up at him before swallowing his mouthful. “As generous as that is I’m going to have to decline, thank you though.”

“Oh come on Ace! It’ll be a sleepover, I’ll make fondue!” Thatch had immediately taken a liking to the Devil’s latest interest and in the span of literal minutes claimed him as a partner in crime, the two had been planning schemes ever since.

“You guys are great,” Ace laughed bitterly. “but that’s precisely why I can’t stay." 

Marco furrowed his brow, "I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

Ace visibly braced himself, shoulders squaring and chin held high. “I’m the son of the devil, you shouldn’t be around me. I’ll bring you nothing but trouble.”

There was a pregnant pause before Thatch let out a snort of laughter.

“Son of the devil eh?” Marco scoffed amused. “I highly doubt that.”

Ace immediately turned red but his mouth was set in a firm frown as he tried to keep a shushed tone.

“No, really Marco. I’m the son of Gol Roger. I’m a monster, I shouldn’t have been born.”

Anger burned intense and hot inside Marco, from what the blond could tell Ace was the nicest human he’d ever met. Anyone who’d wish death upon such a kind soul deserved to be punished, severely.

“Ace take it from me, the actual devil, you are nowhere close to being a monster.”

The brunette opened his mouth with a ready reply, but Marco’s sentence finally processed and instead he shot the blond an exasperated look. 

"Marco, you’re not the devil. If this is some weird way to cheer me up, cut it out.”

“I assure you it’s not. Tell me Ace,” Marco leaned closer, forcing him to maintain eye contact. “What is it that you desire?” 

Ace stared blankly back, mouth forming unspoken words before his nose wrinkled. “What kind of question is that?”

“What?” Marco leaned back in surprise, shock clear on his face.

“I mean straight out asking someone what their desire is, that’s weird. Is it like, a kink thing?”

Thatch burst out into a loud guffaw, doubling over and clutching at his stomach as he hit the counter before his knees gave out and he sunk to the floor, uncontrolled laughter following him the whole way down. 

"I’m the devil Ace! It’s what the Devil does! Make deals on poor unsuspecting humans and what not!” Marco defended, pointedly ignoring the burning sensation creeping up his neck. The devil does not blush so he refused to acknowledge it. “You’re supposed to fear me not- not try to call out my fetishes!" 

Thatch’s laughter began anew and the blush on Marco’s neck crept higher. Ace’s own blush had reached a glowing level and he let out choked noises in a vain attempt to say words.

However all good things come to an end and their end came in the form of a slammed door.

The club entrance burst open and in rushed several masked men.

“Marco look out!” Ace dove over the counter to tackle him to the ground as a hail of bullets rained through the air.

The blond groaned as he gently rolled Ace off from atop him, “I keep telling you, I’m the devil. That comes with a nifty little thing called immortali- Ace?”

Red blossomed like a hibiscus flower on Ace’s chest. “Can’t be too careful.” Ace wheezed out in a pained chuckle. “Ah, consider this my thanks for helping me out earlier.”

Marco pressed a clean dish towel to his wound, grimacing at the way it was immediately dyed red. “You idiot, once I’m done taking care of these buffoons you and I are going to have a long talk about you jumping between me and deadly projectiles.”

Shooting a glance to Thatch to make sure the demon would watch after Ace, Marco shrugged off his coat and stepped out from behind the counter.

A barrage of bullets greeted him, though they were brushed off without a care. Once their clips were empty Marco effortlessly shoved the closest goon, sending him flying across the room. Another ran up trying to score a lucky shot on the blond only to be met with a balled fist to the stomach. 

Blue flames licked out from Marco’s shoulders as he advanced upon the crumpled form. “Let me enlighten you to the reason why I am known as the morning star.”

 xXx

I forgot where I was going with this so have a half finished half thrown together. I may make a part 2 of this some time in the future- maybe when I gather a coherent thought- but we’ll see. I just really wanted to see Marco as Lucifer and Ace as Chloe to fulfill my inner fan-girl so enjoy!

[cesabutterflywrites]

The Duke of the Bay: Part 2

If you want to be put on a taglist for this please let me know!

[Spotify Playlist] [Youtube Playlist]

First Part, Ao3 Link, Next Part

Warnings: Guns, threats, alcohol, homosexual slang used pejoratively and positively, internalized homophobia ask me to add any if need be

Chapter Word Count: 2875

Summary: Patton O’Hearty was a great detective. Most people didn’t take him for one at first glance, especially when he dressed casual. He was abnormally chipper; he thought everything was the cat’s pajamas. He had a smile for everyone he met. He was always tipping his hat at the dames and gents when he walked the streets of the Bay Area.

The only person he could never catch was the leader of the planted mob in Emeryville, nicknamed The Duke. The Duke was good at hiding his dealings and joints well, and he rarely had a snitch in his ranks. The few who tried, well, somehow they disappeared before they could give the police any substantial information. He was well hidden, but popular among the residents of the town. People talked boldly of his rambunctious parties, never revealing the locations though. He was hard to catch, to say the least.

So what happens, when instead, the detective is the one that’s caught?

-

Logan closed his eyes in frustration. “Damn it.” 

“That’s no way to talk in the presence of young ladies,” Lola purred next to them. 

Logan jumped, and glared at the girls. “I don’t think someone who goes to places like this and dances as  provocatively as you counts as a lady.” 

Patton shot Logan a warning glance. He didn’t need more enemies in the room. Logan’s face quickly fell in shame. “I’m sorry, Lola. That was unkind of me.” 

Lola threw her head back and laughed. “Please, sugar, that’s the manliest you’ve acted all night. For a moment I thought you were a fairy,” she leaned in with a wink, “You know...a pansy.” 

Logan’s face flushed red. He sputtered like a broken faucet, unable to form a coherent response. “N-no! I’m not!” He vehemently denied. 

“Hey, don’t sweat it if you are, honey,” Alice tried to soothe, “We’re not exactly straight, ourselves.” 

Logan looked at them curiously, “You mean…?” 

Lola smirked, “If anyone asks, we’re cousins.” 

“Then why- then how come-what?” Logan’s brow was furrowed, trying to understand what they were trying to get up to. The girls just smiled at him. He looked desperately at Patton.  “Do you know what they’re saying?” 

“I think they’re trying to say that they're lesbians; kissing pals,” he winked at their blushing faces. “Though, I still think you’re a bit too young to know for sure, Alice.” 

Alice jutted her pointed chin in defiance, “I’m sixteen,” 

Logan choked on nothing, starting to cough in disbelief. Patton reached an arm out to steady him, but he was denied. Logan seemed to be having a rough time adjusting to the swinger’s life for the night. 

Patton ignored him, turning back to the girls. “Why were you dancing with us, then?” he asked for his speechless friend. 

Lola looked at Alice and shrugged, “I still like men, but Alice makes me feel things no man has been able to.” 

Alice smiled fondly and nuzzled into her partner’s cheek. “Same here, Lola. There’s something soft about a woman’s touch that a man can’t remake.” 

Patton watched them carefully. “Aren’t you asking for trouble, flaunting that around?” 

“I’m surprised you haven’t noticed sooner, considering you’re one of the Duke’s friends,” Lola remarked, “Look around the room. There’s a reason this place is so well guarded.” 

Logan put his fist in his mouth, trying to keep up. “So you mean the Duke…?” 

“Doesn’t mind dropping the pins and letting his hair down,” Lola filled in. “So, neither of you are…?” 

It was Patton’s turn to blush, aware of no longer being an outsider watching a circus performance. 

He never gave it much thought. All he wanted was to make the world a better place. He never imagined how he’d settle down, or who with. He just expected it to happen one day. 

“I suppose I never gave it much thought,” Patton muttered. He looked at Logan who was staring intently at the floor. “But I know I don’t mind folks who are. My parents raised me to be a loving man, which includes men who love men.” 

Logan looked up at him, eyes conveying a secret bit of gratefulness. Patton just smiled encouragingly. He had his suspicions, but he knew Logan was a good detective no matter what. That was all that mattered, and in that moment there was an even bigger matter that was more important than discussing various sexualities. 

“Say, girls, what did you mean when you asked about us being the Duke’s friends and being...queer?” The word felt weird to say out loud, especially in reference to himself. It wasn’t bad. Just a little bit different. 

Lola giggled as Alice blushed then said, “We just thought, well, usually he only has special guests when they’re his arm pieces. We’re sorry for assuming.”

Patton took his fake glasses off to wipe the sweat off of his face. He felt the urge to get another gin, but he knew he needed his senses sharp so he could be prepared for talking to the Duke. He also felt a bit hungry.

“No worries, ladies. I think Mr. James and I need to go get something to eat, I’m famished.” He dipped his head as they smiled politely. 

He and Logan made their way to the table next to the bar, and grabbed some plates of food. They made their way to the dining tables in the room next door. There were a few couples in the room, and the music was less loud in there. Patton was keenly aware of Mr. Doris who entered the room behind them. He felt those intense eyes staring straight through his skull. 

He tried to ignore it while he ate with his companion. “So, what’s the attack plan?” 

Logan thought as he chewed. “Maybe we just go along, and if our lives get in danger we use our guns. They haven’t confiscated them from us yet.” 

“What if that was part of the trap?” Patton asked. “And further, why would the Duke lure us in? Why not have us kidnapped like he’s done with others?” 

Logan shuddered, “I don’t know, Pat, and I don’t want to consider that at this moment. We’ll save the why’s for later. We need to focus on gathering enough evidence, and getting out of here alive.” 

Patton just nodded. “So where do we go from here?” 

“I don’t know,” Logan muttered, tossing his fork down when he finished his meal, “There are a lot more questions than answers. Frankly, my mind is still spinning from that drink.” 

“It was barely half a glass of gin, Logan,” Patton snickered, “I’ve had worse.” 

Logan raised his eyebrow. “When?” 

“Before the prohibition,” he waved dismissively, “My pops used to let me have a bit of whiskey every Saturday night.” 

Logan tutted, “No wonder you’re so cheerful. There’s silly juice in your blood.” 

Patton laughed, “Yeah, well, I am Irish.” 

The moment of brevity disappeared as a shadow loomed over them. Mr. Doris, their guardian of the evening, loomed over them. “The Duke will see you now.” 

-----

Logan was put into a separate waiting room upstairs as Patton was led to an office down the hall.

He gasped as he entered the room. The office was full of oddities. The shelves had bizarre jars full of mysterious colored horrors. There were stuffed animal mounts hanging on the wall, along with a few posters with graphic depictions of murders and scantily clad people of both sexes. 

“How professional, “ he remarked in a high pitch as he walked in. 

The Duke smiled behind his desk, “Thank you. I like to keep my office cozy.” He looked at his henchman, “Go wait by the door, Mr. Doris. I’ll call if he pulls a gun on me,” he winked at Patton. 

The scarred man just nodded, glaring at Patton as he left to guard the door. Patton gulped nervously. 

“Come in, detective, sit. Make yourself comfortable.” The Duke gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. 

Patton considered briefly before deciding to sit. The chair was surprisingly comfortable, but he didn’t let himself relax fully. He stared at the most dangerous criminal in the Bay. He was on guard, suspicious that the Duke would order him to be killed at any moment. 

“Why did you bring us here, Duke?” he asked with narrowed eyes. 

The man behind the desk snickered, “Oh, detective, please tell me you’re more creative than that? Try a different question. Something more...interesting.” 

Patton tilted his head in confusion. What was this man’s deal? “Uh...okay,” he spoke hesitantly, “Rumor has it you drop pins…?” 

The Duke guffawed, “Oh, there’s one I haven’t heard! Thank you!” He kept giggling as he spoke, “I’m sorry, it’s just, the usual gets so boring sometimes. ‘Why am I here?’ ‘What do you want from me?’ ‘Are you gonna kill me?’” Remus rolled his eyes, “But to answer your question, yes, I let my hair down.” 

He raised a brow at Patton seductively, “Does that bother you, good detective?” 

“No, Duke,” he said honestly, “That’s not why I’m on your tail.” 

“Oh, I wish you were on my tail,” the man sighed with a dreamy smile, “I bet you’d be a good one.” 

Patton blushed, “Just get to the point.” 

“Right,” The Duke slammed the desk. “I want you, your partner, and your other copper friends to lay off my people. Just turn a blind eye, and in reward we’ll take care of you.” 

“What if I refuse?” Patton asked warily. 

“Well, I guess I’ll have to run and hide deeper in the shadows,” the villain smirked. “If you want me, come and get me. Have fun trying, at least.” He spread his arms out. 

“You won’t kill us?” the detective asked in disbelief. “You won’t make us disappear?” 

“No,” the Duke truthfully told with his eyes wide, “I guess I won’t…” but he leaned forward with a wicked grin. “But you’ll never be able to lay a hand on me as I take over the town.” 

Patton stayed silent, considering his options. He could pretend to agree to the demands, and warn the captain in his next report. However, the Duke seemed smart. He’d probably have eyes and ears out anyways to know if any funny business was going on. Patton was starting to believe that Logan was right after all. Someone on the force was bought off already, just to get the Duke close enough to the lead detectives on his case.

The Duke stood up from behind the desk to lean over Patton, who blushed at the proximity. There was no denying the villain was handsome, and there was something seductive about the way he looked at Patton. Like a hungry wolf who cornered his prey. Patton shivered in dangerous delight. He tried to shake the lustful feelings coming over his body. His conversation with the young girls downstairs was playing through his mind. 

‘I never gave it much thought’, he had said then. Well, suddenly, he was giving it a lot of thought at that moment. The Duke must be a magician of some sorts, or that gin was stronger than he initially thought.

The man was staring at him, waiting for an answer. He looked like the devil before he was cast down to earth. He was beautiful, especially since Patton could look at him up close. His face was sculpted perfectly, and his grin was a mockery of purity. He was well kept, but looked like he could go feral at any moment. That only increased the seductive, dark aura he radiated. 

Patton shifted uncomfortably under the gaze. He didn’t really enjoy the way he was being looked at, mainly because it made him want to gaze back as intensely and succumb to his proposal…

He chose to focus on the case at hand. “You said you’d take care of us?” You’d take care of me?

The Duke tapped his chin in thought, “I didn’t expect you to cave in so quickly, Detective O’Hearty. I thought you were selfless. At least that’s the word on the street.” 

“Maybe I’m tired of being a slave to unreturned good deeds,” Patton lied. He had a plan forming, and it required getting the man’s guard down.

“Well, you’ll still be a slave if you work for me,” the Duke smirked, “But a willing one after time.

“Back to the subject of your benefits. Your precinct will be receiving an anonymous donation of 5% of our profits. My guys won’t interfere with any investigation outside of our operation, and maybe we can help you out but turning in some of our criminal rivals. Every now and then we might need your help, and you, along with your partner, will be at my personal disposal” 

Patton deflated. Those conditions were really good. Was this how cops turned? The mobsters sent in gifts and seducers to prey on the weakness of men. He  could end up doing a lot of good if they worked together, and really, they weren’t doing much harm to anyone except with their own criminals in their world. 

No. No, it was wrong. He pledged to uphold the law, to enforce a certain code of morals that kept the public safe. The man standing in front of him was a murderer, he was a psycho. He was clearly deranged. He was charming, and used his charm to nearly get Patton to budge. 

He needed to get out of there, but safely. The Duke made it clear that he may not be leaving alive, but he needed some time to think. An idea formed in his head. He was slightly disgusted with himself, but it had a larger chance of working than any other option. 

He stood up and took off his fake spectacles. He leaned in the Duke’s personal space to set them on the dark mahogany desk. He then stayed to look down at the grinning man. Two could play a Devil’s game. 

He played with the black tie that was set against the light green dress shirt. He heard the shorter man’s breath hitch. He leaned in a bit closer, setting his thigh discreetly between the shorter man’s legs. He lowered his voice to an unnatural pitch. 

“Tell, me, Duke,” he leaned in to whisper in the man’s ear, “Did you really suspect that I’d be squeaky clean?” 

Putting on the act was easier than it should have been, and a part of Patton panicked. He kept his cool, giving just a bit into his own budding desires to keep it all seeming authentic. 

He let go of the tie, choosing to use that hand to lean on the desk, subtly trapping the breathless man beneath him. He hesitantly bent in to stroke his nose along the soft neck of the criminal. 

“I think a part of you suspected who I really am,” he pressed his body further, completely molding him against the shorter man. He smiled in triumph as he heard a tantalizing moan slip from the mustached mouth. 

“Part of you knew my own sinful desires, didn’t you? You didn’t call me here for business,” he swallowed his nerves to kiss the soft skin below the earlobe he was speaking half-truths into. 

“No, I didn’t,” the Duke squirmed. 

Patton was intrigued.  He hadn’t expected such a powerful man to become so easily undone. He pulled away from his assault on the man’s neck to look into the man’s eyes, to see the truth. 

The truth in the crazy eyes he had made him momentarily forget all he ever learned in Sunday School. The nearly black eyes burned with heated desire. Patton felt some fear, with all that chaos was focused on him, he would surely break. He felt strange, completely out of his body. What was he doing?

The criminal pulled Patton in by his tie and they were kissing. Patton knew he let the scenario go too far by then. It felt so good, though. There was something more grizzly about kissing another man, and frankly the tickle of the mustache added to the appeal of the moment. He kissed back, shouting to himself that it was just to keep up appearances.

He needed to leave, before he tossed all his morals out the window. 

He pulled away, “Give me some time to think about your offer? As appealing as it is, I need to keep up appearances.” 

The Duke smiled maniacally, “My dear detective, but of course!” 

Patton tried to pull himself off of the other quickly, however the Duke gripped his hip and held him in place. Patton gasped as the man’s hand wandered across his waist. Then, he realized too late, that his gun had been pulled on him. 

He looked down in betrayal and shock, he had thought he was succeeding in getting underneath the man’s skin. 

“Don’t look so surprised, my dear detective, I didn’t get up to the top by my pretty looks. I do have some bit of intelligence,” he gestured to have Patton sit back onto the chair. “Though, let me tell you, with that little show you put on, I nearly did lose my marbles.” 

The Duke licked his lips and moaned rather loudly, “You’re a good actor. That surely will haunt my dreams tonight,” he looked to the door and called his henchman back in. 

Mr. Doris came back in, the permanent scowl on his face made him look like a sort of reptile to Patton. He walked to stand guard behind Patton, placing a yellow gloved hand firmly on the detective’s shoulder. Patton flinched at the touch, chastising himself for what he had sacrificed...only to fail.

Shortly after another younger, smaller guard brought Logan in. Logan was resisting, though it was futile. The kid had a good grip, and shoved the other detective into the seat beside Patton. He has unruly black hair, darker skin, and a hateful look in his eyes. He mimicked the other guard’s grip by having his own hand on Logan’s collarbone.

The Duke moved back behind his desk, grinning like the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland. “Well, gentlemen, let’s talk business.” 

-

-

-

-

TAGLIST: @littlestr

Let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist of this story!