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nsomniacsdream · 10 months ago

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www.aljazeera.com

I don’t care who wins the US presidential election

Andrew Mitrovica

7 - 8 minutes

It was a choreographed scene starring the US president and First Lady that was meant to convey the restorative spirit of the festive season.

Last week, Joe and Jill Biden emerged from behind a black curtain like giddy celebrities and took their red seats before a large Christmas tree brimming with decorations and gifts at the Children’s National Hospital in Washington, DC.

Their excited audience included a gaggle of young patients and their parents anxious to see the commander-in-chief and his wife who would read aloud the popular poem, The Night Before Christmas.

“Thanks for letting us come to see you,” President Biden said.

Indeed, every First Lady beginning with Bess Truman – 75 years ago – has made the annual pilgrimage to the children’s hospital “to spread holiday cheer”. In 2022, Biden became the first sitting president to tag along.

A frail-looking but animated Biden winked, waved and smiled as the First Lady read from the picture book, holding it aloft.

When the First Lady finished, Biden thanked the hospital staff. “It’s special, special what you do.”

He had this parting advice: “Where there is life, there is hope.”

With that, Biden urged the children to return after they had recovered to offer support to other kids spending the holidays in hospital rather than at home.

A hospital official applauded the Bidens for “continuing this annual tradition…[that] brings so much joy to all the children, the families and our staff”.

“God bless you all,” Biden said.

Their performance lasted less than 10 minutes.

However brief, it was designed in part, I suppose, to burnish “Uncle Joe’s” credentials as a kind guy who is all too familiar with the worry, heartache and searing pain of caring for ill children or losing them to a sudden, violent act with awful consequences.

But watching the Bidens stage this perfunctory ritual – with television cameras in tow of course – only deepened my contempt for a decrepit president who considers the welfare and lives of some children more valuable than others.

Instead of using his powers and influence to try to stop the maiming and killing of thousands of Palestinian children, Biden has, in odious effect, encouraged the maiming and killing of thousands of Palestinian children.

In occupied Palestine, Biden is not a harbinger of “joy”, but the co-architect of the dystopian carnage engulfing a shattered people and their shattered land.

This complicit president, who is fulsome party to a systematic campaign to snuff out life and hope in Gaza and the West Bank, had the near-sickening audacity to share what amounts to a cheap bit of greeting-card-like philosophy that “where there is life, there is hope”.

Astonishing.

Biden compounded this obscenity by visiting a hospital to praise doctors and nurses tending to the sick while America’s proxy, Israel, has ruthlessly gone about occupying, ransacking and destroying hospitals throughout Gaza and forcibly disappearing and killing Palestinian doctors and nurses.

What they did and how they did it – to borrow a phrase – was special, too.

That Biden and his handlers were blind to this blatant and ugly juxtaposition is a measure of how disposable and forgettable the promising lives and horrific deaths of Palestinians are in their misanthropic geopolitical calculus.

The litany of halting images of the dirt-caked faces of Palestinian children calling out for their lost mamas and babas or small, limp bodies wrapped in white shrouds apparently did not dissuade Biden from playing his part in an agreeable photo op that, given the lethal times and bleak context, stings of indecency.

The Bidens’ token appearance and all that it revealed about the president’s signature nature has served as the exclamation point to a brewing realisation that, like a hurricane, has gathered strength and momentum in me since early October.

I have been such a fool.

I have written columns – that I wish I could erase – praising Biden as a literate, if not honourable, alternative to the mayhem and madness embodied by an illiterate, dishonourable charlatan named Donald Trump.

I have written other columns – that I also wish I could erase – extolling the wisdom of enlightened Americans who, I was confident, would choose Biden over Trump again this coming November and spare a fretting world four more years of Trumpian madness and mayhem.

Enlightened Americans exist. There just aren’t enough of them.

I chided other, much wiser columnists, who wrote that beyond the rhetorical edges, both Biden and Trump were elected to protect the interests – at home and abroad – of the oligarchs they serve under the risible guise of a phantom “democracy” addicted to war and plunder for profit.

On this defining score, Biden has proven to be every bit as useful and reliable a marionette as his predecessor. Trump’s offish manners and profanity offend the delicate sensibilities of the liberal and progressive cognoscenti, not his loyalty to the disfiguring status quo.

I could not care less who prevails in the upcoming presidential campaign. I will not worry a whit about America’s “future” because if even the recent past is any litmus, history’s most efficient killing machine is bound to cause more death, pain and suffering across the globe – whoever is president.

This coming year I will enjoy the entertaining spectacle of a country slipping deeper into fanaticism and dissonance while much of it, predictably, turns to muppets with megaphones, such as Joe Rogan and Bill Maher, for a way out of (or into) the impending abyss.

Speaking of muppets, a note to the swarm of nitwits who will, no doubt, caution me to be “careful what I wish for”.

How much worse can it get? A genocide is being perpetrated against millions of innocent Palestinians while dear, old Uncle Joe twiddles his knotty thumbs. Rather than get incensed about that, you’ll get miffed at me for writing this “outrageous” column.

Priorities.

Finally, I think it would be fitting if Trump returned to the White House.

Then, all of the daffy guff about America being a nation founded on a sacrosanct constitution, the rule of law and a shining city on a hill that the rest of us should emulate will be extinguished emphatically.

What a moment it will be when Americans – well, 66 percent of eligible voters – make it official on November 5, 2024: electing a career criminal to lead a criminal regime.

So, happy jaundiced new year, everyone!

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.

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syrma-sensei · 3 years ago

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→ Untangled Feelings.

pairing: erwin smith x fem!reader

setting: canonverse

rating: angst

summary: you and the commander have a rather interesting conversation in an interesting spot.

Dressed in your formal Military Police garb, you made your way to the underground cells, where the Commander of the Survey Corps was kept there for the murder of Dimo Reeves, and for the possible treason and conspiring against the throne; his trial would be held in a couple of days in front of the king himself and the noble lords. Everyone knew what was going to happen, his gallow was already erected in the main square for everyone to watch the pathetic end of Erwin Smith.

It was a measly death for him, actually. If only he gave up on his stupid dreams and listened to you back in the cadet days. The stupid, ambitious bastard.

“Captain (L/N),” The soldier who was in charge of guarding the busy cell saluted. You nodded at him in acknowledgement.

“You can take a break, soldier,” You said in an unwavering voice, “I can handle it from here, you did well.”

The young man looked at you suspiciously at first, then he acquiesced, giving you the cell key, saluting you, then he left.

You watched his retreating back untill it disappeared behind the brick walls. Slipping the old key into the keyhole, you twisted it, and the door opened with a tick, creaking all the way until it was open. Slipping the keys safely into your pocket, you stepped in.

Your gaze perched on him, and for a fleeting moment, you felt your heart sting at the his sight. No. A fucking no; you were past this shit; you couldn't allow yourself to be hurt for him after what he did to you. Not now, not here. You came here to gloat over the fact you were right, to gloat over the huge loss he deserved because of his waywardness, because he abandoned much more important things and threw them behind his back as if they were nothing, to pursue a temptation of a mere illusion.

You shook your head, nose wrinkling a bit at the reek of the place.

Even though he was beaten up, and his head down, and his intact hand shackled to the wall, Erwin was still big. His white shirt was torn and worn out, dark and dry blood stained it.

You noticed a weird colour smeared his sleeve, the one covering his arm stump, making your eyebrows furrow.

Looking down at his face, made yours crease. You expected to feel your heart flutter at the sight; seeing him the great Erwin Smith rotting in one of these dangeouns, to bring elation to your heart, but it didn't. It was the utter opposite, you felt terrible, and it upsetted you greatly.

He, however, didn't move or give any sign of life. If his back didn't went up and down as a sign of breathing, you'd say he was dead.

You kicked his leg, “My, my...” you said with relished voice, “What a marvelous sight to behold, heard you were acting like the mule you truly are,”

Erwin breathed in slowly, before tipping his head up to gaze at you. His light blue eyes as strong as ever despite the humiliating situation he was in.

“(Y/N)... is that you?” he whispered in rasped voice.

Teeth gritted, you fought the urge to slap his stupidly handsome, now bruised face.

“Yes, Erwin, it's me (Y/N),” You sneered.

You could've sworn you saw him grin, and that was when your palm connected to his cheek.

He coughed, then looked up at you, and you felt a nasty tug on your heartstrings. One eye was engorged and purple; he looked weak and ever so fragile, he was nothing like self-conceited man you once fell in love with, nothing like the man you once gave your heart to and he crushed it ruthlessly.

Tears threatened to escape.

“Was it really worth it, Erwin?” Your voice was hoarse and low, and you hated it; hated how this man could weaken you even when being in a fucked up place like that.

“Nothing worthes as much, (Y/N),” He answered in a low voice.

“You really are stubborn,” You jeered, “Guess you gave them hard time. Shame, everything is going into the gutters, and everybody will remember you as a traitor who tried to unsettle the peace inside the walls.”

“It was never about me, (Y/N),” He grumbled, his face twisting in pain, “Neither about you. even if I'm gone, others are going to take my place.”

You chuckled bitterly, “I loved you, you know...” You couldn't believe what you were saying, but your tongue kept on exposing you, “I loved you... but you're far too blinded by your own selfishness to ever heed me or anything else.”

His tied up hand tightened in a grip, before admitting, “I loved you too, (Y/N)...” He sighed, letting his head fall again, for a mere moment you heard regret in his voice, “I couldn't bring myself to get you involved in this...”

You scowled, clenching your teeth, “Shut your shit-eating mouth! Don't you dare telling me this after all you've done!” You gasped, “Don't you dare doing this to me and now you're about to die! You selfish, insensitive bastard!”

You kneeled before him, grabbing his collar, “You don't get to do this to me—”

Your eyes dilated in fear as you saw him out of conscious.

“No no no no!”

Probing his neck, you found a faint pulse. He was still alive, you sighed. Your eyes darted to his stump sleeve again and you saw fresh blood drenching the fabric. With tears gathering in your eyes, you ripped his shirt off, and the nasty smell from before invaded your nose. His stump was practically rotting.

“Fuck!”

With shaky hands, you unlocked his cuff and let him lay on the groud, brushing the sweat away from his forehead.

“I won't let you die you fucking bastard!” You slapped his cheek in a frantic attempt to wake him up, “I'm not gonna let you die on me, you hear me!”

You started to cry, sounding the pathetic teenager from the cadet days.

“I love you... I still fucking love you... I won't let you die like this...”

It'd been days since the dethrone of the government happened, and you were still in a dungeon unaware of what was happening outside.

You rushed outside, after you brushed your tears away, looking for a medic.

Turned out the fucking bastard had planned for everything with a great gamble, in association with Dot Pixis and Darius Zackly. You were under arrest due to the military coup, along with many other MP's officers. It happened so fast, unexpected. It happened after days when you called a nurse to see Erwin who was practically dying. His wound wasn't fully healed, and he had collected an infection from being tortured and unattended.

Your mind was only occupied by him, and you were crying like a fool for him. He was going to leave you again, but for good this time, and you couldn't do a thing about it.

He was taken to the king when he regained consciousness, the day your life flipped upside down. Out of nowhere, you were surrounded by armed Garrison's soldiers, and were thrown into the same dungeon Erwin was in.

You found it ironic really.

As you were hugging your knees to your chest you heard the door of your cell creaking open, you didn't bother to budge although sensing an unmistakable presence in front of you.

“It's time to go, (Y/N),”

You looked up at Erwin. As much as you hated it, you were glad to see him again, standing tall and neat. From the sight of his face you concluded he was healing perfectly; you felt relieved.

You scoffed, “Guess everything is planned to you, isn't that right, Commander?”

His lips curled up into a half smile, “Well, my near death wasn't included of course,” His eyes lingering on yours, “Neither was your perfect-timing help,”

You sneered again, turned your head to the side. You heard shuffling, his large hand cupped your cheek, making you look at him again.

“Thank you, (Y/N),” He said softly, brushing his thumb to your skin, sending shivers down your body. “I'm forever in debt to you,”

You chuckled, “Bet you won't be ever able to return it,”

He gave an amused chuckle of his own, standing up again, “Well, you're maybe right. But I can try, can't I?”

He extended his only hand to you. You looked at it then up at him. He was smiling, anticipation swirling within his eyes.

taglist: @mrsackxrman @koulakoukoula2003 @hopeless-daydream3r @vienna-fae @sinnerofthewalls @killerbananas @shrekthesimp @antoxsmith @galactict3a

You shook your head, unwrapping your hands, and took his offered hand. Once your feet were flat on the ground, you heard yourself yelp as he pulled you into his hold by surprise. You gave in, putting your cheek on his chest, hearing his plumping heart, undoubtedly rapid like yours.

tell me if you wanna be added to my Erwin taglist 😉

#commander erwin #erwin smith #snk erwin #aot erwin #erwin x reader #erwin x y/n #erwin x you #erwin snk #attack on titan erwin #erwin smith smut #erwin smut #erwin imagines

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angeli-marco-writes · 3 years ago

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Sebastian Stan - Prinţesă (Part I)

A/N & WC - I decided to make this a two-parter to save it being too long, but I’m not sure when part 2 will be up. I do not know Sebastian, nor do I claim to: this is a work of fiction. 3.1k.

Warnings - Mob!Dad's best friend!Seb, implications of an age gap relationship (Seb in his late 30s, reader early 20s), bad Romanian, mob talks, mentions of sex and firearms, swearing, talk of an abusive relationship.

Summary - Seb always has your back, and you hope he'll do the same after fleeing your boyfriend to find safety in his mansion. His job is misleading, but you're the only one who sees the darling underneath. The monster begins to rear its head when you arrive in pieces, but maybe that's a good thing.

Ringing this doorbell is one of the most threatening things you’ve ever had to do. The hulking mansion towers above you, glimmering chandeliers flickering with light in rooms up to three storeys high. The amount of times you’ve stood out here, rapping your knuckles on the door, bouncing on the balls of your feet, even in your youngest years… and never once has the house looked this threatening. Your entire body heaves with sobs, your cheeks damp from tears, your throat hoarse and begging for something to drink from all the screaming. Icy rain lashes ruthlessly against your back, soaking through your already sodden clothes. At this point, along with your teeth chattering, your bones are beginning to creak in protest to the incessant chill. The very last of your cash went to the cab driver, and whatever excess you were unable to pay, you told him to charge to this address, despite the driver's derisive scoff. Seb would spot you, wouldn’t he? If he ever comes out to you.

He’s inside, you know he is—as are the many men he keeps around to swarm the premises —and yet he isn’t answering the door. He always answers the door. Unless… Unless it’s date night.

“Mmm, baby, who’s at the door?” the girl asks him sultrily, her red lipstick smeared halfway down her chin as she sits, legs wide open for him, on his very expensive, custom-made, marble kitchen countertop.

“Dunno,” Seb responds.

He doesn’t waste another second before fumbling for the zip at the back of her barely-there dress, yanking it down with a particularly harsh tug. It’s already rucked up to her hips, anyway. His swollen lips crash straight down onto hers with a feverish voracity. Seb has a lot that he needs to get out of his system, and he certainly plans to if that doorbell ever stops fucking ringing—

“Stefan! Get the fucking door,” he commands one of his Hench-men.

Sebastian’s patience is thin at the best of times, and on the single night he has off a week, he likes to spend that with a pretty, brainless girl who’ll have to sign an NDA come morning. It’s easier this way: no commitment, no relationships. The only person he’ll break his free time for knows just to call and he’ll be there in a heartbeat. He isn’t the sort to break a promise.

“You gonna fuck me or what?” the blonde asks, twirling her fake hair around one cheaply manicured finger.

He barely resists the urge to roll his eyes and instead kisses her almost violently, with such intent that it knocks the air from his lungs. The shout from Stefan does that for him, though.

“Boss, need you at the door now!”

That panicked tone… one he hasn’t heard from Stefan even after all he’s endured. Something must be very, very wrong to elicit such a reaction. Sebastian’s movements with the girl stall, and stepping away from her, his Louboutin's squeaking on the expensive granite floor. He doesn’t answer, doesn’t speak to the girl but instead gestures for her to get her clothes on and get behind him very, very quickly. Throwing open one pristine white drawer, he plucks out a Glock, double checks the ammo, and clasps it in both ring-clad hands.

“Fii atent, fii brutal dacă este nevoie,” he says to himself, repeating it over and over again. Be careful, be ruthless if necessary. A weak promise, but one he promised you to ensure your peace of mind.

“Stop speaking Polish!” this girl hisses.

Even despite the pressing moment, he finds the time to turn back and look at her with eyes full of disdain. She can leave now, provided there’s no threat at the door. Even if she is rude, he’s not in the business of putting women in danger no matter the circumstance, which seems to be exactly where he went wrong with you, his fights to save you from danger so futile against your iron will.

When he reaches the door, though, his heart shatters into a million pieces. Curled up in Stefan’s hesitant grasp, shivering, your complexion a sickly pallor, your eyes redder than he’s ever seen them. Stefan’s deathly pale, but instead of noting the clear issue of the situation, this bird—Jenny, Jessy, something, he doesn’t particularly care—scrunches her nose up and pushes past him.

“Who’s this bitch? Take me to bed Sebastian, come on…”

He shrugs off her incessant grasp without a second thought, shouldering away from her as he nocks his gun away. Why are you weeping? The question rushes through him like the sharpest sting of pain he’s ever had to endure. If something’s wrong, you always call him first: this is worse than ever before.

With a grave face, he takes a sharp stride out of the ornate hallway and into the porch, his posture relaxed. “Stefan, get this lady paperwork, I’ll take it from here.” And without a second thought, he sweeps you into his arms, allowing you to break down those barriers.

—

You can still hear the girl’s protests following you, echoing in your head as she fumed, cried, fought and kicked, outright refusing to leave the premises until she ‘got what she was owed’ before it was ‘stolen by this whore’ in reference to you. As though you were anything but a helpless puppy, soaked to the bone, crying your eyes out, begging Sebastian to help you.

“Who the fuck is this? Why are you choosing her over me?” she spat, making you feel like nothing.

They follow you even as you curl up on Seb’s sofa, hot chocolate in your hands, a blanket draped around your shoulders, a fire crackling in the great gold hearth in the centre of the room. You watched, against Seb’s orders, over his shoulder as she was restrained by two bulky bodyguards, pulling her kicking and screaming, arms flailing and legs bucking, into the work wing.

His threat is the only thing that made you feel even the slightest bit better, “Never speak to me, or her that way again, or we’ll do a lot worse.”

The cold fire of wrath kindling in his crystal blue eyes terrified her into silence, and she left without a scratch. It’s a pity your conscience didn’t.

“Seb, I’m sorry, I should go…” you pipe up, the haunts in your head overriding any sanity so much after everything you’ve already faced today, “she can’t be far, go and fetch her and have a good night. I— I shouldn’t have come…”

He darts across the living room carpet—a pristine cream he regrets choosing for the amount of times he’s had to have it industrially cleaned—and settles on the arm of the sofa, a suit-clad arm around your hunched shoulders. He’ll have a much better night with you rather than her, even if it isn’t in the same capacity it once was.

He shushes you gently, allowing you to relax further into the crease of the mocha loveseat that’s always been your favourite. Even when he did the room out, he refused to get rid of it, saving it for when you came to visit.

Instead of bootlessly reassuring you, since he knows it won’t sink in, he jokes, “She was a bitch anyway.”

He’s always been your first port of call, no matter the situation. You lost your mascara? Probably in his spare bedroom. You got a bit too drunk? He’ll pick you up. Your world falls apart? He’ll be there to pick up the pieces: he always has, he always will, that’s just the kind of man he is despite the assumptions due to his line of work. It’s why your father got along with him so well. Sebastian is a family man, fiercely proactive, and that’s what makes him so good at his job.

“Seb?”

“Yeah Prinţesă?”

Your heart flutters at the pet name before you can stop it, and you shuffle a little further along the couch cushion that’s now moulded to the curve of your spine, allowing Seb to sit beside you. He only left to get you some marshmallows for your drink, which he sprinkles in as he sits down, cuddling you.

“Just wanted a hug.”

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through you, prompting you to nuzzle further into his tailored suit, “You don’t need to ask for that. But…”

Before he can continue, you’ve dissolved into tears, and are fisting at the cotton of his shirt to draw him closer. He wraps you in a cocoon of warmth, taking your mug from your hands to settle on the coffee table just feet away, upon which is a book of yours. You need to go soon, get into some dry clothes instead of getting the sofa wet, but you need a hug more than warm pyjamas.

You run a hand through his chestnut locks, and hot tears press to the skin of his neck. “Doll, I don’t wanna make things worse, but I need to know what you’re doing here. You know you’re always welcome here whenever, but… you have a key.” That’s true, you do, but you didn’t have time to grab it before— “Please, when you’re ready, can you talk to me?”

You nod, but don’t withdraw from him. Why would you ever want to escape his bear grip? You didn’t that night, those years ago, but once you let go of one another, you feared you’d never find your way back.

“Why didn’t you call?” he asks, “how did you get here?”

This time, you have to move, guilt flashing over your features as you ferret around in your pocket, withdrawing your phone, or at least what’s left. It’s little more than a scrap of glass and metal, held together by wires it’s so smashed up. Sebastian’s face has never held such confused anger.

“I found a phone box with cab numbers pinned inside and got a taxi here. I had nowhere else to go,” you sob, a sorry, choked sound that drives Sebastian to hold you even closer, pulling you into his lap without a second thought.

He coos sweet nothings in your ear until your breathing regulates a little more, but then tugs away, brushing a kiss to your temple. Concern laces his features as he searches your face for any sign of harm, and he proceeds to ask the inevitable question, to which, dreadfully, he already knows the answer. Only he dreads to hear it, if you even dare.

“Who did this?” he demands softly.

You don’t dare, but only avert your red-rimmed, swollen eyes, your throat bobbing viciously as you gulp. He already knows it’s that piece of shit boyfriend he told you time and time again to break up with, months before you got serious or moved in together. The day he helped you shift those boxes into a shared abode… his heart died a little.

“Did he lay a finger on you?”

Hesitantly, you shake your head. “Not in a while.”

“I’ll fucking kill him,” Seb mutters under his breath, clenching his fists.

He knew the bloke was an abusive twat, but to know he touched you on top of breaking your phone, causing you to run away from the place you were supposed to feel safe… it drives him to new pits of fury. But Sebastian, after everything he’s seen and done, finds himself on the verge of tears at your cautious revelation. He’s never been so angry, shadows wrapping around him, his mind retreating into that dark place full of destruction and vexation. He promised your dad when he died that he’d protect you, and all he’s done is fail, but this primality, this burning need to cuddle you and coddle you and keep you safe from anything and everything that isn’t him, it’s something else.

He knows deep down that if he doesn't let you go now, he never will, so instead of doing anything more, saying anything that reveals his true heart, he strokes your hair and draws away from you, handing you back your mug.

“Stay here as long as you need. The bath is run, you have a soak, your pyjamas are out.”

Sipping your hot chocolate, you nuzzle contentedly into him, wrapping one arm around his neck as he stands. He carries you up the stairs and into the guest wing, one floor above his, and you let him help you out of your soaking clothes.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Prinţesă?”

You nod, forcing a smile, even if you don’t feel it. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” He kisses your hairline, barely restraining from your lips, and departs only when you’re safe in the bathroom, but sinks against the door, his head in his hands—his plotting stance. “I’m gonna kill that măgar myself.”

—

A knock on the hulking doors to your suite stir you from your daydream, lost in a new book, supplied by Sebastian’s endless library.

“Come in,” you call, your voice a little wary.

You spent what feels like hours shouting earlier on, followed by all the bawling that tore at your throat. It’s nowhere near as nice as the last time you had a sore throat at Sebastian’s mansion. It feels like you went to a concert, combined with the lethargy and aches and the fear. But you’re safe now, a fact you have to remind yourself every few minutes to prevent yourself from looking over your shoulder.

“Hey Doll, just me. How are you? Do the pyjamas still fit?”

You left them here a while ago for the odd night you spent here, but they seem to be looser, something Seb instantly notices when you kick the duvet off to show him.

“Did he starve you? You need to eat, y/n! They fit you perfectly three months ago,” he says.

He stalks to the bed, settling at your feet. His touch causes you to close the book and say, “He didn’t, but my appetite has been lacking…” your inflection says enough, you know it does. “Maybe we can get breakfast tomorrow? A proper breakfast.”

“And every day after that.” He smiles at the slight colour returning to your cheeks, adding, “I’ve got something for you.”

Your ears almost visibly prick up, your posture settling into one of attention as you push your book onto the bedside locker. His warmth seeps from his hold into your skin despite the layers separating you, it’s always been Sebastian’s specialty, to warm you up from a mile away, your heart and all. You expect a pretty necklace—he likes to get you those, or maybe some more food to add to the huge platter of your favourite foods he had laid out for when you were done with the bath, but it’s something you definitely can’t accept.

“Seb…” you murmur.

The shiny, brand new iPhone 12 is heavy in your hands, glowing under the golden chandelier suspended above the bed, but when the screen flashes on, you realise it’s already got your lock screen on it. You tap in your passcode, and find not only your sim card loaded, but also your iCloud with one fundamental difference: everything about your boyfriend has been erased. Number, Instagram, photos…

“Seb, where have they gone?”

Reluctantly, he pulls a memory stick out of his pocket, holding it just out of your reach. “You get this back when he isn’t a risk to you anymore. For now, you’re forbidden from seeing him. A restraining order and lawsuit are already in the works.”

His men work fast, you think to yourself, somehow truly believing that they’re doing this on the right side of the law. If you knew the truth, that his men were already over there right now you wouldn’t catch a wink of sleep. Seb can’t be having that..

“You can’t do that. You’re not my dad,” you protest, but even you know that there’s no point in fighting. You’re relieved beyond words for the proceedings now in action.

“I know, but…” he swallows, taking your hand in his, “I swore to your dad that I’d protect you until the day I die. I intend on keeping that promise, I won’t let him hurt you again.”

When you still say nothing, he comes closer, his suit pants getting static from the duvet, but he edges closer. His hair is flopping over his forehead, the gel beginning to wear out, and he looks so human this way. His rings send chills through you.

“You okay, Prinţesă?” he inquires, moving to softly stroke your hair.

“Yeah, thank you Seb. I don’t know how I can go back...”

“You won’t be. You’re never going back to him.”

Your chest deflates with sheer relief, and in this moment, you know you’ve never been as grateful to have Sebastian in your life. “Stay here as long as you want, honest.” Part of him hopes you’ll never leave, and a kernel of you pleads for the same thing, too. “I’ll get all your stuff together tomorrow. Just sleep, yeah? I’ve got you Doll, your dad would be so proud of you for leaving.”

Would he? You chose to be there in the first place, you endured it for so long when you should’ve left so much earlier, and instead of surviving on your own, you came crying to Seb.

“No.” His hand cups your jaw, the tough pad of his thumb catching a tear before it can fall. “Don’t go to that place. Don’t doubt yourself. You are so brave, and you have a place here for as long as you need. I’m so glad you came to me. It’ll all be ok, yeah?”

It’s crazy, but… you actually believe him. Every word he says is the truth, it always has been. He’s never shied away from brutal honesty, why should he when you need it the most? A stinging begins behind your eyes, and more tears threaten to spill, but sleep is pulling at you every which way. You don’t even know what time it is, how late it must be after hours of hell, and you really should sleep, especially if you’re getting breakfast with him tomorrow.

Your final request? “Stay with me? Don’t wanna be alone...”

It wouldn’t be the first time, but he hasn’t stayed since that night, and the circumstances couldn’t be further contrary. But his face; that adorable face, worn with age, scarred, those eyes that make dreams feel real, so clear and beautiful, and those petal pink lips…

He nods, and seems to forget he’s in his suit as he lets you curl into the side of his body, wrapping you under the duvet, tucking you into his side. He says a silent prayer, one he hopes will carry to whoever may be there to help him. To help you, the most important thing in his life.

Please, please keep my Prinţesă safe. Whatever it takes.

(PART II COMING SOON)

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all-about-seggs · 4 years ago

Text

Dropped Façades-

Rating:❌ 18+, Explicit ❌

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x shy! female reader

Word count: 2K

Warnings: Masturbation, fingering, vaginal sex (on the rougher side)

A/n: This is a happy!AU where everything is good and nobody dies OKAY?!ಥ_ಥ

Shining bands of morning light filled your vision making you squint from its brilliance but the sunny whether didn’t do much to deter the hazy clouds looming over your sunken heart.

“ I’m heading off then”, the apathetic tone of your boyfriend’s voice matched his equally deadpan look as he called out to you from the front door.

Another night of Levi staying over at your place came to a monotonous end. Ever since the beginning of your relationship, your nights have been a predictable cycle of him cooking for you, a few kisses exchanged before bed, that too if he’s feeling generous and then going your separate ways the next day.

Your shyness combined with the intimidating aura of the drill sergeant you were dating held you back everytime the sun went down and the ache in your core begged for attention.

Being an astonishingly disbalanced mix of prim and proper and foul mouthed, Levi didn’t left much to the imagination when it came to his likes and dislikes so you often ended up being what you figured he needed the most.

Be it keeping up with his mandatory cleaning or intervening everytime you know he’s on the cusp of whiplashing his subordinates, you were what placated him and brought serenity in his life.

You thought being in love with him and have it reciprocated would make the entire process as natural as breathing but the longer it went on the more harder it became to get out of your shell. Maybe it’s not the most idealistic phase of your relationship, self sacrifice was afterall, just a pretty word.

And the primary cause of your concern was completely at odds with the noble emotions of the duty you took upon as Levi’s girlfriend.

Lackluster was what the current state of your sex life could’ve been described as if it existed in the fist place. For the first three weeks of your budding relationship, not only work but your internal conflict was getting in the way of your understandable desires. And the fact that even he didn’t tried to make a move on you got you wondering if he was even interested in sex or in you physically.

Pushing the thoughts of potential sexy times with Levi away you walk over to the front door to send him off him, every second of the ten step way filled with the silence of unspoken words.

Even after he left, your stared at the empty place getting more and more annoyed by your own incompetence to speak out. Wanting to distract yourself from your current trail of thoughts you started to think of stuff to do until your laundry basket caught your eye.

There among your clothes laid your boyfriend’s shirt that he wore last light and despite your attempts at talking yourself out of the upcoming urge to play with your untouched pussy you find yourself grabbing the article out of the basket and onto your bed.

Spreading the shirt over your pillow, you take in Levi’s lingering scent. It was an embarrassing sight of considered from a second person’s point of view, creepy even. But right now this was all you had to calm your sexually frustrated self. Lying sideways on the bed you shoved your pants and underwear down your legs to get better access to your core.

As you caressed your clit you thought about how his own fingers would feel, the calloused and roughened tips of his fingers that held more strength than one cannot even imagine, just the thought of those digits entering you and stretching you out fuelled your arousal.

You were sure he could make you cum with his hands in less than half the time it takes you but gosh did you wanted his cock. You wanted to see it, touch it, suck it and choke in it if possible, how it would feel stretching your cunt and hitting that g-spot which made you shiver and scream for more. Thoughts of your pussy being filled to the brim with his girth overtook all five of your senses.

Letting your imagination run rampant your trembling body was practically making the bed creak, not even sensing Levi’s presence even when he was standing next to the bedroom door, arms crossed with a look of utter disdain.

“Have you been spending the past three weeks getting off of your hand?”, his annoyed voice overtaking your soft mewls pulled you back from the edge. Recovering from the initial shock, your naked body splayed out on the bed clammed up under his sharp eyes, thinking it’d be best to not hide your visibly throbbing pussy so you waited for him to continue, face and neck growing hotter by the second in shame and guilt.

“ I forgot my shirt so I had to come back, but”, eyeing up the spit covered clothing he strutted towards you, “ it seems you’ve already taking a liking to it”.

Now taking a spot right next you, his one arm reached out, taking your chin in between his hand, he gave it a hard tug, to make you face him from an angle that made his callous eyes seem downright frightening.

“Look at that mess. Who do you think is going clean it up? ”, Levi’s voice was almost a hiss, an icy thread crackling along the cold air of your bedroom.

Drooling all over his shirt, you haphazardly started fixing your clothes you pushed yourself in a sitting position.

“I’m- I’m sorry! I’ll clean that up!”, You squeak, searching for some tissues or towel to wipe the fabric and making it a point to avoid eye contact. Watching you panic like he just caught you committing a crime, he heaved a sigh, half exasperated and half amused by your shyness.

His face didn’t give away his thoughts but surprisingly, his words did.

“I wanted you to feel comfortable enough to bring it up”, eyeing at the slick that covered your inner thighs he dropped his gaze to the ground before starting back up, “ but I guess I am partly at fault too for not taking any initiative either”.

“well?, it’s your turn to tell me what you want”, The stiff tone of his voice was offset by the gentle look of his eyes.

All his straightforwardness came to a halt when he saw you sitting there shell shocked. Your dazed look, induced by his unexpected words, became still for a while. Not wanting to be the only one who kept their cards closed you forced yourself to speak.

“ Then, I want you to stay here……. And”, trailing off you meekly take a hold of his crisp dress shirt, still unable to look at him directly and hoping he’ll get the gist.

The next couple of seconds went by in a flash when your top came off and got thrown to the floor, with him pinning you down, Levi takes off the rest of your cloths and his effortlessly.

With only his boxers on he sat next to you, taking one of your thigh in his firm grip, he spread your legs open. Sharp gaze falling on your already moistened core he wordlessly slipped two of his thick digits inside, making you jolt at the contact.

“Move”, his command seemed both out of place and erotic at the same time, making you struggle a little before finding the right pace.

Back unintentionally arching against the bed you lift your hips, bucking against his hand while he leaned down to bit your nipple, coaxing a cry of pleasure out of you. Your entire body trembled with the sheer amount of effort it took for you to move.

“I saw you move your hips better than this when you were fucking yourself y/n. Faster”, his every word sent pleasant shivers up your spine, making you wonder if you always had such an authority kink. Or if you were just naturally submissive in front of your deliciously dominant boyfriend.

You rolled your hips faster, gyrating them deeper into his fingers, only for them to be abruptly pulled out, making you feel empty. But in your daze you noted Levi's own impatience when he got off the bed to reach for his pants.

The thumping of your heartbeat filled your ears as you watched him take out a condom from his pant pocket. Revelling in the fact that he too wanted this to happen sooner or later.

Rolling down the latex over his shaft, Levi didn’t wasted a single moment before sliding himself into your sopping wet hole. His length stretched you enough to make you cum on the spot but you wanted him to take you higher so you waited for him to move. Settings his own pace he started plunging in and out of you ruthlessly, filling your senses with both pain and pleasure.

“You- You’re being …Too rough!”, Voice cracking by the force of his thrusts your entire body shifted higher up the bed and for a split second you worried about the state of your bed.

“Well we did decided to be more honest with each other”, with his voice as steady as his hard thrusts, Levi rammed his cock into with an unforgiving pace right off the bat “ and this is my way of doing this”.

It didn’t take him long to hit your sweet spot, your high pitched yelps just confirming his perfect angle and he snapped his hips again and again to reach the depths of your cunt.

The constant pounding of his cock was bringing you closer to your release, the toe curling pleasure just within your reach made you impatient so you bucked your hips to match his movements.

Levi’s pulsating member inside you soon gave you the final push you needed to experience the mind numbing euphoria you wanted for so long and with a few more rolls of his hips you felt him follow right after, with some low grunts of his own.

His muscular body falling on top of your, he breathed in your raw scent, tucking his face in the crook of your sweaty neck and for the first time ever you saw the sight of a disheveled and messy Levi Ackerman.

It was undeniably sexy, the way his bangs stuck to his forehead, body gleaming with a sheen layer of clean sweat. The pleasant fatigue you were experiencing took you in a dreamlike state from which you didn’t wanted to wake up from until,

“Get your ass off of the damn bed and go shower”, abruptly rolling you off of you, Levi’s words are almost like a warning.

“I’ll clean up in here”.

“Wait- what happened to my sweet and gentle aftercare?!”, Feeling a bit dejected you whined as you watched him put on his boxers, the seriousness of his face told you it’s better to just get off the bed without any questions. Your desire to bask in the afterglow of your hot sex coming to a premature end was expected. Yet you couldn’t accept it so this time you let your hesitation go, not wanting to repeat the same cycle of frustration you had experienced a while back.

“Then……..Can I expect some action in the bathroom too?”, biting your lips to hold back your smirk you turn to look at Levi for a response to your obvious attempt to elongated your intimate time together. “what?! Can’t blame me for asking you to make up for the past dry three weeks!”.

“If you behave like a good girl then I’ll give you something in the bathroom too”, not even glancing in your direction, he spoke nonchalantly, making quick work of the dirty sheets.

“ like what, a bath?”, Sceptically eyeing his face you silently hoped you had a longer night ahead.

“You were not the only one who was waiting for this you know”, his uncharacteristically soft voice made you do a double take.

Levi was smiling. But for all his delicate features, his smile was like a knife.

And this was all the confirmation you needed to know he’s gonna wreck you good and long.

#attack on Titan #aot #aot smut #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kiyojin #snk #snk smut #Levi Ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi smut #smut #shingeki no kiyojin levi #attack on Titan Levi #my writing #attack on Titan Smut

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jean-does-not-have-a-horseface · 4 years ago

Note

Hello, Hello, would you mind to write a scenario for Levi Ackerman with a female s/o were they have a argument and Levi accidently hurts her physical in some way?

Thank you very much and please be careful 💚

Okay, hello, I have been working on this for a HOT minute and this is the only way I thought this could go (because Levs would never ever ever ever hurt his s/o, poor man has seen his mother being violated so much too pls-) tell me if you like it, I'd be glad to know if you're satisfied with how it went.

Pairing: Levi/ Reader

Tags: Action, Somewhat!Fluff,

Warnings: Mentions of blood, gunshots, wounds you know, typical snk stuff

Bullet

Crimson liquid run in gushes from the wound in your shoulder splattering your whole body and your surroundings. The pain was immense and torturous and reeked of the adrenaline that your body was trying to produce, all on vain to soothe the uneasiness, as with every passing second the hot rushes of blood that flew to the spot put your mind in a burgundy haze. Your left hand was trembling, your body was still in shock by the hit and your necessary intakes of oxygen had long surpassed the normal rate by now but you weren't in a position to slow down.

The odds had been against you ever since you decided to follow Levi and not lead the infamous cadets of the 104th squadron.

It was the silent clicking of a gun that had caught your attention as you discussed how much of an ambush this whole situation seemed with Nifa and Levi. You almost perked at the spot, a fragment of a second faster than Levi, buying yourself enough time to jump into the most unthinkable situation; getting Levi out of this commotion safe and unwounded, you'd take the incoming shot for the stoic captain to stay alive.

The bullet had blown just through your shoulder with enough force to send you flying to the ground, meters away from the hotspot of action. As you heard Levi's voice screaming an earth shattering call of Kenny Ackerman's name you pushed through the pain that has shaken your body to the core and shot your drills to the nearest building. Your heart was beating fast, eyes rapidly checking in all directions to examine your surroundings while the pulsating of your shoulder begged with you to take action on it's recovery.

Only ever when you made sure your surroundings were clear of armed soldiers did your feet drag you outside the dark alleyway. Pushing through the intense pain you managed to shoot the drills of your gear onto a empty rooftop, trying your best to evenly distribute your weight on the equipment. One mistake and you could easily be wiped out.

Therefore you settled for sneaking carefully in between dark alleys as gunshot sounds ravaged your eardrums; It was definitely Levi who was taking all that fire on his own, sending your heart to an uncatchable pace as the blood that pulsated in every inch of your body would manage to find an exit through the wound on your shoulder.

As the blasts kept getting unbearably closer by each passing second you glued yourself to the stone wall and ducked down, to protect any part of you in order to see for yourself if Levi was indeed the target of this manhunt.

Your speculations were correct.

Upon him passing by -incredibly fast- your eyes met his for a brief moment, forcing a shocked hitch to leave his lips as his eyes widened. His expression, dark, anxious, as if he had just seen a ghost and refused to believe it.

The state of your well being was still unbeknownst to you; you hadn't even taken a chance to see how drenched in blood your clothes were.

With another fast shoot of your quills and a press to your gas' handle you landed on another rooftop, far behind from the horde of men that had all their attention on Levi.

Everything went quiet for a moment. Sheer tranquility masked the air. The fire of action seemed to have been out off momentarily, yet you don't have an eye sight of the situation. You couldn't seem to slow down your breathing not even for one second, your alert eyes repeatedly scanned the areas around you to detect any suspicious move.

Despite the unfair odds and your position you had managed to successfully locate the cart with Eren and Historia, only to come face to face with the commotion that had occured. Hange's men were taken one by one, this time in your comrade's place sat a wide eyed brunette who screamed at the horses to go faster.

The sound of shooting thundered in waves around the town, startling you, urging you to jump into action. The wagon couldn't by any means, slip away from you or your team.

You tapped against your right gas canulle, begging for the sound to signal that it was halfway full at least. The left one was busted from your previous impact against the cold stone buildings, still you were sure you could push through with as much as you had, even if it seemed deadly enough to get you killed.

The cadets were startled as the saw you as they proceeded to bombard you with questions about your condition to which you could barely reply with full sentences. Slowly your body was giving in to your injury, to a point where you couldn't ignore it. Still, you bothered with how much more you could take.

"The hell is that!" Jean inquired, eyes pacing between the gory scene unraveling before him, and you, still troubling himself with taking in what he was witnessing.

Levi flew hurriedly flew by, pumping his gas one before launching his drill to an armed man's abdomen. His face hardened as the men was dragged to him, hands already gripping his blades steadily.

He went straight for the kill. Blood cluttered everywhere around him, staining any nearby surface.

Everyone's faces went numb as frozen droplets of sweat run down their foreheads. Naturally, in your shocked state you failed to provide any comfort to them, even if their despairate eyes were begging you to.

"Follow the wagon!" Levi commanded, his breath hitching in his throat as he sat still, despairate to take a momentarily rest.

"Right!" Mikasa complied sternly.

"Listen up, these soldiers were trained to fight other people, they've already take up three of ours," restlessly, Levi flew to lead the team, launching himself alongside of you, but still not sparing you a glance. "If you hesitate for so much as a second you'll be dead. The moment you see an opening go for the kill!"

"Yes sir!" Once again the ravenette in a stone cold tone confirmed her Captain's orders were well understood, forcing a gulp to flow down everyone's throat.

"And you, (y/n)!" This time his eyes were intensely burning dark holes in yours. "You stay back and lay low, this is an order!" You watched as he gulped, taking a moment to breathe through his nose in an attempt to calm himself down. "And don't ever think about taking a bullet for me, ever again."

Despite the gallons of blood lost and the tremendous pain you managed to find the spitfire in you to reply, eyes wide with rage at his last comment.

"Sir, with all due respect, I'm fine with laying low, but-"

"No time for you to form your own rebellion over my words, lay low or you're getting killed. You've made yourself the easiest target!" His words dripped of poison, unnerving anger that did nothing to convey his worry, making your head blur with similar rage.

You refused to believe that the first thing he would try to converse with you on the subject would actually turn out to be a scolding session. As if you were an imbecile child. As if you hadn't tried to push through to keep offering your abilities to your cause.

"Kenny would have shot you right then and there! What did you expect me to do?" You screamed. Your lungs burned with every command to withstand the pressure. Hot blood found its way through the hole in your arm again.

"No he wouldn't. We don't have time for this, Lay low!"

Levi's tone was sharp as a knife slicing your flesh like soft butter, somewhat hurting you more that the small piece of metal in your body. "You can't handle yourself like I can at the moment." It was rare they the two of you would bicker like this, and there was so much you could handle with an oozing wound, barking at him seemed to be the way to get your point at him.

"You're unbelievable," you squealed "I just saved your life and you're downgrading me?"

"Don't put words in my mouth, you know what I mean."

"Oh, do I now?" You mocked.

"No one else dies on my watch and you can't fight, so out of our way!"

Levi launched himself into a tent, backflipping his way through another kill. You hated to admit that he was right; you couldn't even make it to a few kills with the remaining of your gas yet the adrenaline in your body was raging against every plead of you to stay behind.

"You can't keep me out of action!" You barked, eyes glimmering with stubbornness as you followed the team's lead to the wagon. Jean was the first to land with Armin, throwing the brunette soldier way from her spot. You didn't seem to pay enough attention to your surroundings, the clicking of a gun behind you fell deaf to your ears.

"I told you (y/n) we don't have tim- watch out!" Levi's eyes widened in terror at the sight of the armed man towering behind you. Shaking hands that still held his blades reached out fast, boldly enough to launch onto the collar of your shirt, bringing your form onto him, only for your nose to harshly collide with the steel handle of his blade in the process. In turn you were thrown harshly onto a nearby tent.

A moment later his blades had slashed through the man while a rage filled scream muffled your ears.

"Armin Secure the wagon with Jean! We'll keep you covered!"

At trying to catch up in the commotion on the wagon, he witnessed in agony as Jean gulped, a gun nearly pressed to his head. Mikasa called out his name, launching her blades and spinning in the air. If it wasn't for Armin to ruthlessly pull the trigger to send the brunette to her instant death, she would have been too late to save her comrade. Levi clicked his tongue in misery. This was getting worse by each passing second.

"Armin! Jean!"

You laid on the tent, left hand scrunched against your bloody nose as you tried not to move. There were still armed men everywhere, if they detected you were alive you were done for. With half lid eyes you watched the scene unfold in front of you.

Three more men had towered behind Levi and the cadets, pointing their guns on them. Levi and Sasha jumped to the scene, shoving their comrades out of the wagon. The had successfully missed the fire of the shots for short seconds. As a sigh of relief left you your right eye lost focus. Your head felt dizzy, heavy at the numbing pain that shoot from your whole body. As the effects of adrenaline slowly wore off your body started to give in, eyes battling an already lost fight to stay open.

The last thing you heard was Levi calling out your name.

Your eyes painfully shot open.

The top of your mouth felt dry. You couldn't swallow. A strong metallic taste adorned the tips of your tongue. In a panicked state your eyes were blinking rapidly at the darkness around you, alternating gazes between the group of people a few meters away from you and the flickering light of the fire.

In contrary to your body, your head felt feathery light as numbness toyed on your brain, taking forms of a thousand little ants stomping each cavity they could find.

"Ah, Captain she's awake!"

Your body couldn't move and your mind couldn't think, yet Connie's words rang a few bells that alerted you. After what seemed like an eon later, a flick switched in your brain, widening your eyes upon hitting you with the most profane realisation.

"It's probably the morphine shot that has you numb like this. I took care of that bullet in your arm and I fixed your nose."

Your eyes bored into Levi's steel ones, unintentional apathy splattered all your face. You couldn't help but stop your bruised lips from forming to a small pout; as your coincidence flowed withing your body with every passing of the time you were reminded of the heated exchange of words you and your lover had shared before your body gave in.

Levi's eyes softened as he watched your face fall into an angered expression. A sigh of relief escaped him as his hand extended to your direction, calloused fingers lingering on the thin locks on your forehead.

"Shit" he groaned through gritted teeth "Fuck, I'm so sorry (y/n), you know I didn't mean to break your nose right? Given the situation I knew you'd land safely on the tent, I just had to get you out of there"

His eyes were sincere, flickering with agony as his hand rested behind your ear. The look on his face was enough to make you melt, to give in to whatever he ever said, you couldn't deny that much.

"I know how devoted you are, you could have taken that bullet for anyone not just for me, that's who you are." Another sigh escaped him, this time sneaking profoundly out his trembling chest.

"Y-you don't have to s-struggle with your-r words. You were right-t. I shouldn't have pushed my self with such little gas while losing so much blood." You coughed. Essential sentences were spilling out of your mouth. You knew when to step back into your place, especially in arguments that you were on the wrong. Levi had been right from the beginning, but you had pushed forward, worked yourself to the limit.

"Tch, I would never intentionally hurt you, you know that much right? I didn't mean to cause you more pain-"

"Levi, my love," As you laid on your back you watched the fire in his eyes cool down at sound of the endearing pet name. His chest stopped taking sharp stressed breaths and his hand started rubbing soothing circles at the nape of your neck. "You don't have to apologise, please. I was on the wrong. If anything, you saved me from being fatally shot. You shoved Jean away as well."

Levi's antics were nothing strange to you. You had spent years by his side, training as a part of his team, fighting alongside him. The way he cared for his comrades was unmatched, unable to be mimicked. You knew of his tragic past, so him acting compulsively like that wasn't something you wouldn't have expected. You weren't mad that you had gotten hurt in the process of him ripping you away from deaths grip.

The only thing that had ever made you mad was that, momentarily he wasn't willing to approve of your sacrifice to him.

"I threw you like shack of shit, I don't deserve you going soft on me. I should have not downgraded you."

Your eyes shut, lips curling upwards onto a tiny smirk, one that lifted Levi's spirits just a bit. "I'll stop being so hotheaded." You managed to admit, letting a chuckle escape your lips. Rarely you could stop yourself from giggling when you'd make up with the man.

"Brat! Don't laugh when we're having a serious conversation!" His eyes hardened, voice full of affectionate authority. You were so eager to brush off the subject of him guilt tripping himself, to lift the weight off his shoulders.

The weak bubbling laughter that escaped you after was contagious and never ending. It felt as little, continuous jolts of static electricity shocking your body as each exhale, but it was unstoppable, not even for you to answer properly back to him. The effect of the tranquilizing shot was perfect on it's part as well.

"I-it's just that i- love you. That's all. You've always got a spot on poo comment about everything."

Levi's head lowered in defeat, his nose leaving out an amused whip of air in the process. As you watched him, you felt a familiar warmth numb its way through your body from your stomach and outwards. Perhaps, this time he didn't want you to assume what he would say. Perhaps he was still guilt tripping himself or perhaps your laughter was getting through him at a moment he had to be stern. Nevertheless you never missed the words that felt his lips, before he went to quickly brush then against yours.

"I won't be as hotheaded as well, I promise. I'd take a thousand bullets for you I hope you know that."

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lemonhobgoblin · 4 years ago

Text

Deception: Loki One-Shot

A/N: Promised to make this one-shot like what 2 years ago...better late than never amirite. Imma try to write more probably during the summer when I’m not too busy with college. Cuz I have like 9 stories (at least 15+ ch. each) and another one-shot that I want to finish this year.

Hope y’all enjoy

Loki x Reader

Word Count: 1.2K

Warning: Slight NSFW, minor language, and slight fluff

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sound of muffled heavy rain and the low rumbles of thunder resounded throughout the Avengers base. As the rain pounded against the walls of the base, playing a calming rhythm. The halls, lab, gym, and rooms vacant of anyone to occupy, creating a perfect acoustic. Though faint muffled conversation could be heard. On a nonspecific floor, a commotion ignited within a dimly lit room. Pleading voices interrupting the calm ambiance, countering against the tranquil atmosphere. A dire match transpiring between three heroes and a ruthless demigod prevailing against them.

"Loki please don't do this to me." you urged.

"Brother listen to (Y/n), you'll regret this." Thor tries to reason but to no avail.

"My mind has been made up," Loki spoke with such malice intent.

"Please Loki..." A hushed whined slipping through your lips. Silence took hold for no longer than a couple of seconds as Loki looked down on you, reveling in the success of overpowering the three Avengers, especially you. How weak and hopeless you all looked before Loki, he couldn’t wait to see your face when he throws the last fatal hit against you.

Too impatient to wait any longer, he broke the stillness, he reached forward towards you slamming down the finishing blow to bring an end to it all.

"No!" Peter shouted across the room.

Loki drops a Draw Four Card on a pile of cards between the two of you, "Draw four and I choose the color to be blue. Which does not matter because I win," smiled smugly over at you, crossing his arms over his chest.

"YOU'RE CHEATING!!!" You hollered at Loki, throwing your cards down on the coffee table between the two. All of you were sitting comfortably on the floor around the coffee table. Loki and you were playing a round of Uno, along with Peter and Thor who were watching the intense match, forgoing their own game of Jenga. Watching you lose once again to Loki, losing their minds joking over your loss and how Loki is in big trouble.

All of you were left to yourselves during this stormy weather. While the other Avengers were either on a mission or simply had personal affiliations to take care of on this rainy day. But boredom grabbing a hold on each of you eventually, mostly Peter and you. Leaving you to get the grand idea to enjoy simple games while playing some movies. Getting Thor to easily agree and pestering Loki from his reading to join in on the fun. However, you currently started to regret bringing Loki along to play.

"I most certainly am not, love, " Loki clasping his hands together in front of himself, allowing his head to rest on top. Staring lovingly at his partner in a sort of mocking way.

"You won like 17 times in a row already, Mr. Loki. I'm pretty sure you are." Peter interjected earning a sideways leer from Loki. In turn, causing Peter to flinch from his gaze.

"Agreed, and this probably isn't the real Loki in front of us. A fake to distract to us" Thor threw a card at Loki, only to hit his head. Cocking his head and pursing his lips in confusion, proving himself wrong.

Loki, slightly annoyed and glared at the two other males, "Very much here and you two are still bitter after I won the first five rounds, true?"

"True," Peter looking down in defeat.

Loki patting Peters back awkwardly before Peter made the crawl back to his end of the table. "Continue playing your 'Jenga', " Loki said, nearly feeling guilty at crushing Peter's hopes of winning at least one game of Uno.

You leaned forward capturing Loki's attention. "Confess your sins now cheater."

Loki, leaning forward forgetting his small wave of guilt completely. Regaining his cockiness to prove you wrong. He enjoyed teasing you, watching you get all worked up and pouty; he found it cute.

"Sorry but there is nothing to confess (Y/n)," he said, continuing with his taunting smirk naïve to the accusation you placed on Loki. This earned a frown from you; you weren't buying the innocent act he was playing. You saw right through him, how he cheated you had no clue, but you were going to find out by any means necessary.

"Thor, can you please take Peter to get more snacks," you commanded more than requested, all the while not breaking eye contact with your mischievous lover.

"We still have plenty of popcorn-" Peter said, placing a block on top of the tower, only to stop mid-sentence the moment he made eye contact and saw the murder in your eyes. Thor following suit of Peter when he noticed the abrupt pause in his response.

"I personally feel like we need more snacks as well as drinks, "Thor slowing standing straight up along with Peter and quickly getting out of the room. Once they were out of sight and far away, you got up from your spot and walked around the table smirking, towering over Loki.

"Whatever you plan to do isn't goi-"

You plopped yourself on Loki's lap, shutting him up. Your legs rested comfortably on either side of Loki, straddling him. Your hands placed at his groin and slowly you pressed against Loki. Taking note of how hard he was already and the shape of it. Not wanting to linger too long, you gradually trailed your palms upwards to his chest feeling him entirely. Your wandering hands coming to an end at his shoulders, settling them around his neck. Bringing yourself and Loki for a passionate kiss, and Loki gladly accepting this unexpected treatment, snaking his hands around your waist, embracing you closer to him, deepening the kiss. Allowing yourself to grind against him, moaning as Loki tongued around inside your mouth.

As much as you enjoyed making out with Loki and vice versa, you had to pull away for air but not without gently biting his lower lip and tugging at it. Releasing his lip, as you pulled away from him, you left a thin connected trail of saliva from each other’s mouth. Loki bringing a hand up, wiping away the trail from your glossy lips before holding your chin up to look at him.

"Was that my punishment, I must say that felt amazing," Loki mused.

"Really? Well so does this, " trailing your hands down to unbutton his pants, slipping a hand in, and pulling out a stack of power cards from his pants and not his dick to Loki's dismay.

"I FUCKING KNEW IT!!! THOR! PETER!" running out the room with the stack in hand. Leaving a bewildered and aroused Loki behind. Realizing his love used their seduction to bring Loki's guard down. Again.

"Dammit, every time." Sighing, he was dumbfounded, at himself for both getting caught and getting sexually riled when you clearly were just trying to get answers out of him.

Allowing himself to flop back onto the plush rug beneath him, accepting defeat. Yet a small grin present on his face, he shook his head at the ridiculous sequence that played out only seconds ago. All the while knowing he would get back at you for this. Starting with the sizeable conundrum you created in his pants, that he is sure to get you to fix it the moment he has you all to himself. But for now, he was going to let you indulge in your triumph and continue spending his time playing games and watching nonsensical movies with you and the others.

Because honestly, he loved you and your company, and right now he wanted to savor this simple moment before he lovingly fucks you ruthlessly later tonight. :)

--------------------------------

Thank you for reading <3

#loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki odinson #loki fanfic #loki x reader #loki (marvel)#loki oneshot #avengers #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki layfeyson x reader #loki odison x reader #mcu #marvel #loki imagine #loki fanfiction #mcu fanfic

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burntmcnuggies · 4 years ago

Text

Office Sex

Hawks x Reader

Warnings: Office sex, oral sex (male receiving), cursing, and slightly mean Hawks.

This is something short I wanted to make while I work on requests! Not my best but... I hope you all still like it! Requests are CLOSED for the time being! I’ll open them up again later! But I want to focus on the ones I have currently while balancing school and work as well :) thank you for your patience! Enjoy!

“Mmm~! Kei’! Hah... baby harder!”

“I-I’m trying! Fuck! Your pussy feels so good... You’re so fuckin’ tight dove! Mmm! I can’t last much longer like that!”

The wing-hero’s body slammed ruthlessly atop you, his hips meeting yours in pure bliss. The wet sounds of your pussy echoing in the room while his ripely round balls deliciously smacked against the smooth skin of your ass covered in his pre-cum and your arousal. His wooden desk was creaking loudly, squealing under the weight and sinful activities. The intoxicating smell of sex was beginning to overwhelm you as you neared your climax, and it was clearly getting to your boyfriend too judging by the look on his face. His lip caught between his teeth, bushy feathery brows scrunched up in his pleasure, desperately panting as he tries to get both of you to climax quickly. You quickly covered your mouth, squeezing your eyes shut as his pace got quicker and harsher, sending you over the edge.

“Mmm! K-Keigo! I’m cu-“

“Yeah baby! Fuckin’ cum for me! O-Oh yeah! Yeaahhhhh~ fuck! Ahhh shit! C-Cummin-“

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

Hawks froze above you, his eyes wide as he quickly pulled out and ushered you under his desk. He lowered his tight black shirt in the process and sat down in his seat, holding his hands firmly together on his desk. “Come in!” He called out, clearing his throat in the process trying to calm himself down and ignore the raging hard on he still had. If it wasn’t for the person he was meeting with, he would’ve ignored the door and continued until he reached his euphoric climax. However, the person he forgot he had a meeting with was none-other than his idol, the number one hero, Endeavor. “What were you doing Hawks? For the fastest hero you weren’t very fast answering the door.”

“Always a sharp one I see! Nothin’ gets past you does it?” Hawks flashed a cheeky smile, but it instantly faltered and twisted into one of panic. Your hands were on his still exposed cock, gently running your fingers up and down his throbbing red shaft. He sighed in bliss and furrowed his brows deeply, scooting his chair in further so he could have better access to touch your face. “Did you receive my letter about the recent reports?” Endeavor wasn’t one to beat around the bush, he plopped down the opposite of his desk, his eyes burning holes into Hawks’ twitching expression. Your lover cleared his throat, one of his hands above the desk looking through the letter absentmindedly while his other was in your hair, urging you to keep touching him. “Of course I have. C’mon Endeavor, I’m not that lazy.”

His leathery gloved fingers intertwined through your hair, pulling harshly as he pushed your face towards his erected flushed cock. His cheeks turned pink, his wings quivering at the sensation of your lips ghosting over his searing hot skin. “Are you okay, Hawks?” Endeavor questions, raising an eyebrow at his strange behavior. It was a bold move of your lover to let you suck him off in front of his idol. Any other person that entered he would sacrifice their eyes for his orgasm. However, that wasn’t the problem here. “Y-Yeah, why wouldn’ I be? Are you actually worried about me now, Endeavor?” Everyone viewed the pro-hero as a laid back, leisurely, and a friendly face. A strong man with strong beliefs, but he only had one flaw, and that was his bird-like quirk. His body was incredibly sensitive to pleasurable touches, especially when he was in a mood like he was just moments ago. “You’re mistaking things. Now focus, you moron.”

While Endeavor began to talk more in detail about the letter he had sent Hawks about some villain sightings, you were busy rubbing his inner thighs gently while trailing your hands and fingers over his V-line and over the curly tufts of blonde hair that lay just above his erect cock. A shiver ran through his spine feeling such an action from you. He rested his head in his hand, secretly digging his fingers into his face while he struggled not to moan out and give away what was going on underneath his wooden desk. His wings spread out widely once he felt your wet lips gently trail down his slick shaft covered in his own pre-cum and your sweet arousal. He smelled so intoxicating. You parted your wet lips to run your tongue down his deliciously potent balls, sucking one into your mouth coating it with your saliva before you worked on the other one.

Hawks was a struggling mess above the desk, his hands now shaking harshly, his eyes struggled to stay open as his brain began to turn to mush in your hands. Sweat was still present, dripping off his slightly tan skin and onto his gloved hand, still digging fingerprints into his own cheeks attempting to keep quiet. “G-Geez it’s hot! Aren’t you hot, Endeavor? Well I mean you’re always hot with all those flames around your face.” He gave a painfully forced cheeky smile, sadly interrupting the famous pro while he was speaking. This of course irked the buffer man, sending the younger high-ranked hero a silencing glare. Hawks gave a nonchalant shrug and rested his hands in his lap, or so it seemed.

His hands reached forward under the table, attempting to grab your head. Due to the small amount of space, he caught you instantly, tugging your hair and grabbing his cock with his other hand. His jaw noticeably clenched upon the feeling of his own hand against his aching erection. But that isn’t what he wanted, he wanted to feel your sweet pussy around him again. However, you weren’t about to give him that luxury while Endeavor was still present in the room. He had to settle for 2nd best, that whorishly hot mouth he loved to suck his cock. He would press your nose flush against his blonde pubes so you could spell his musky scent, while his cock head occupied the back of your throat. Just the thought alone was making him twitch in anxiousness.

“Keigo~” you mumbled softly against the soft slick skin of his meaty cock, sending shivers up the pro’s spine. Suddenly a pen dropped onto the floor beside you, halting your movements swiftly as his voice echoed underneath the desk. “Ah Sorry, lemme get that.” He ducked down to pick up the pen he had purposefully dropped, but instead of going for the pen, he went for your face. His hand grabbed your cheeks, smushing them together as he dangerously growled to you through grit teeth, barely even a whisper. “Put my fucking cock in your mouth. Right, fuckin’ now. You filthy slut.” His thick gloved fingers ran over your lips, shoving two fingers in your mouth before he pulled your tongue out and spit right into you mouth. Salvia mixing and sliding down to the back of your throat.

He was too fucking hot.

His head popped back up above the table, giving Endeavor a cheeky lopsided smile. “Heh, sorry about. Guess I had a bit too much caffeine this morning.” His hands rested against his lap, scooting his chair in more to where he was slumped against his chair, knees pressed back against the wood of his desk. His hands quickly found your hair, pulled harshly and yanking your face to slap against his cock. Wishing to please him, you immediately got to work, swirling your tongue around his beautiful raging red cock-head before sucking softly onto the cute little head. You slowly opened your mouth and silently spit on him, moaning quietly at the sight of his cock covered in your spit, juices, and his tasty pre-cum.

“Mmm, continue please Endeavor.” Hawks called out, emphasizing the word please with a husky voice filled with desire meant for his cute little lover beneath him. Once his idol began to continue, Hawks decided to focus his attention back on you, pulled your hair harder, bucking his hips weakly, urging you —no, commanding you to suck him right and to stop teasing him. You finally gave in to his commands, slowly leaning forward and taking his length into your mouth. Tantalizingly slow to be specific. Your shallow breaths through your nose were beginning to make your head spin, excluding the burning temperature of your body. His hand in your hair jerked you down, making your throat clench around him, surprised at the sudden action. A small gag slipped out and Hawks quickly cleared his throat to cover the noise. “Ahem! Ahhh~ fuck~ s-Sorry I just, don’t feel too good, heh. Nothin’ number two can’t handle though.”

That was a lie. He couldn’t handle you sucking him off underneath his desk in front of his long-time idol. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t turned on by it. Maybe he should invite Endeavor to join? Instinctively his wings spread wide, casting long shadows and fluffing up at the thought of someone else touching his precious baby bird. You whimpered quietly against his cock, letting his hand set your pace for pleasing him. Once he had firmly set the pace, your hand approached his, interlacing both of your fingers together. After feeling the reassuring squeeze, you began to bob your head onto him, sucking a bit harder once you reached his beautiful rose red head. Your tongue flicking over his slit, before engulfing the rest of him in again.

“Hmm~ h-hmm~ mmm~ Ngh...” Hawks attempted to play his moans off as humming, his eyes slowly beginning to roll back into his skull, his hand tightly clenching onto yours as a form of support for himself. His other hand rose and slapped a hand over his mouth, brows furrowing as his bangs began to stick to his sweaty forehead. “Oh yeah... fuck yes...” he murmured into his gloved hand, causing the number one pro to stop with irritation. The wing hero instantly shut up without the sound of another voice to cover up his moans. Saliva was beginning to cost his gloved hand. His wings began to tremble, flapping slightly and fanning Endeavors already hot flames. “Yeah, just like that, just like that... just... h-hah...” his breath shakily stuttered out lewdly, annoying the other hero.

“I’ll just reschedule. You’re obviously not paying any attention.” Hawks nodded quickly apologizing quickly before he banged a hand on the table feeling you begin to massage his balls. Kneading them as if you were trying to push his sweet fertile sperm out of his cute little head. “Fuck! Can’t take it anymore! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Endeavor halted in his movements and looked at Hawks unsure whether he should leave him alone. He scowled and stood, towering over the desk and Hawks himself. The number two hero quickly sat up and leaned over the desk to hide you, his hand moving your head faster. The only thing on his mind at the moment was reaching his delicious climax. “Is there something I could do to help?”

“Mmm! I’m... I’m-! Oh fuck! A-Argh! Fuck yeah! Ngh!” Hawks gasped and held your head down, his hips bucking weakly into your mouth while his salty seed spilled down your throat and into those cute cheeks of yours. Endeavor’s scowl grew deeper and he craned his head in order to find out what the hell was wrong with him. He’d never seen Hawks like this. “Should I call an ambulance?” His wings were trembling and twitching, spread wide until they slowly began to droop with relief. Face covered in sweat with a fucked out expression on his face. He could definitely see now where Shoto got his obliviousness. Sharp golden avian eyes cast down to your mouth still holding his softened cock and silently snarled at you, mouthing the word, “Swallow.”

You partially did as he instructed slowly pulling away taking as much of his love juice as your could before moving the sticky substance around in your mouth, opening it to present him with his milk. He instantly got hard again. “Huh? Oh no! I don’t need to go to the hospital, just a small break. Let’s reschedule this over some food next time, my treat. Sorry for makin’ ya sit here without my attention.” He humbly apologized, finally tearing his eyes away from your slutty mouth to give a cheeky smile. Endeavor only huffed in response and walked towards the door. “Moron. Don’t agree to things you won’t be able to do. Because I won’t come next time.”

He left with a swift close of the door and stomping footsteps down the hallway. Hawks sent a feather to lock the door and instantly pulled you up and kissed you harshly, whimpering once he tasted his cum still in your mouth. As a punishment for not fully satisfying you, you pulled his hair back and forced him to get a salty taste of his seed. A sloppy moan past his lips once you pulled back, his lips chasing after yours, only tied together by a small string of salvia and cum. “He’s right you know... You agreed to satisfy my needs. And here I am... still haven’t cum yet while you’re the only one who’s gotten that sweet relief... maybe I won’t come to you next time... maybe I’ll go to someone who can actually settle my needs. Right, Kei’?” He scoffed and laughed at your stupid words, smirking as he grabbed your hips and pecked your lips.

“No need to worry about that, baby bird. I’ll satisfy you until your hips fuckin’ break.”

#hawks smut #mha hawks #hawks x reader #bnha hawks #takami keigo smut #keigo takami x reader #my hero academia

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aces-to-apples · 4 years ago

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I doubt Ahsoka ever had the chance to meet Alpha-17, but I have no doubts whatsoever that she's been subjected to a shocking (to other people) number of stories about him from both Anakin and Obi-Wan. He'd be an honorary member of the family to her, by the time they ever did meet.

Anakin would no doubt stroll through the halls of Kamino like he'd commissioned the army himself, dragging her along in his wake, laughing at him to Slow down, Skyguy, my legs aren't that long! Not yet!

And he'd chuckle and tell her to keep up, c'mon, Snips, we can't let him get away, not this time and if anything he'd speed up.

She'd roll her eyes and grin and wave at all the clones they'd pass in the halls. When Anakin would finally slow down, double-check the data-pad in his pocket, smooth down his tabard in an uncharacteristic show of nerves, Ahsoka would know that whoever she's about to meet, they'd be important.

One of the masters, maybe? Stopping over just like them?

She wouldn't be able to recall any Jedi Master who could inspire such a reaction in Anakin, though. Only Master Obi-Wan. Even Yoda didn't garner that much respect and, if she had to name it, desire to impress from him.

So she'd straighten her own skirt, adjust her headdress, give the hilts of her lightsabers a quick buff, and nod encouragingly at Skyguy when he looked back at her. He'd take a reassuring breath, plaster on that cocky grin and wink, then stroll through the doors like he hadn't practically sprinted across half of Tipoca City.

Ahsoka would be nearly disappointed that the room held only clones.

She'd reprimand herself immediately, of course, then look around curiously.

The clones would be older than most of the ones she'd met at that point, maybe even older than Commander Cody. It would make her feel just as intimidated as a room full of Jedi Masters.

They'd probably be sparring with each other.

Not the same kind of sparring that the 501st, or even 212th, usually dealt in. There was rather a lot more heckling and puppy-scuffling and sometimes even betting going on in those. No, they'd be all ferocity and single-minded determination, unafraid of really injuring each other. A true test of their skills.

She and Anakin would wait politely by a wall and she wouldn't see a single clone pull a single punch. She'd probably revise her opinion and label it even more intimidating than a room full of Jedi Masters.

Standing there, watching them, she might start to suspect the identity of who, precisely, could have this kind of effect on Anakin.

Maybe a flash of blue—a very familiar shade—would catch her attention. And watching one of the clones ruthlessly take down his opponent, she'd understand.

The match would end and Anakin would step forward, puffing up his chest like an Alderaani peacock.

He'd congratulate the victor with a smirk that'd say exactly how unsurprised he is by the outcome. Maybe the clone would say something like What kind of trouble did you get into this time? or maybe he'd just raise an unimpressed eyebrow, content to wait Anakin out.

Either way, Anakin would flush, duck his head, then remember his pride and go right back to being all smiles.

He'd turn and gesture—flourish, really—to Ahsoka and say I thought it was long past time to introduce you to my padawan, Ahsoka Tano. The pride rolling off of him in waves would probably have her blushing down to her toes but she'd meet the clone's gaze head-on.

And the clone would cast a critical eye up and down her person, lingering on the strength in her arms and the lankiness of her legs and the two 'saber hilts on her belt. He might say nothing, again, but he might also turn a devastating smirk on Skyguy and say They let you of all people get your hands on a cadet? The G.A.R.'s doomed.

Rather than get defensive and lash out, though, Anakin might smile tentatively, bracing himself. And maybe he'd reply I was hoping you might put her through some paces. Get a feel for what kind of training she might need.

The words would send Ahsoka's head spinning but she'd be grateful, later, when she learned that Anakin had never seen the clone laugh until right then.

Sure thing, kid he'd say when he was done and then turn to back her. Call me Alpha.

And she'd know, have figured it out before the spar had even finished, but it'd still be a shock. Alpha-17 had trained every Commander in the Army, he'd trained Rex. And Skyguy wanted his advice on how to train her, as well.

Swallowing, she'd push her shoulders back and say It's an honor to meet you, sir and he'd shoot another look at Anakin.

It wouldn't be a very nice look but Anakin wouldn't be rattled at all even when he says What the hell kind of stories have you been telling the cadet about me, Skywalker?

Maybe Ahsoka would be able to hold in the reflexive giggle at his offense, maybe not.

Don't know what you're talking about, Alpha Skyguy would say, unapologetic, and Ahsoka would think back to every story she'd heard from either of her Masters (at least twice each) and would know that they were completely true.

Alpha-17 may or may not roll his eyes, depending on how comfortable he felt flouting Anakin's authority as a Jedi. Then he'd face Ahsoka fully, blocking Anakin out of the conversation, and narrow his eyes.

Hope you haven't taken every one of this particular general's lessons to heart yet, cadet he might say. Or something close to it.

And Ahsoka would probably resist the urge to dart a glance at Anakin before admitting Only the useful ones with a bravado she didn't feel.

He'd smile then, shark-like and full of teeth, and say Good answer, cadet. Now let's what those lessons are.

A shiver would probably work its way down her spine and she'd be sore and aching and frazzled by the time Alpha-17 was done testing her skills.

Just before they leave, Alpha-17 might shoot Anakin a deeply suspicious look and tell him Not bad, kid and Ahsoka would marvel at how Anakin would probably light up at that little piece of almost-validation.

And I have no doubt that he'd treat her to the same expression and say I think I'm gonna like you, cadet with all the resignation that came from knowing the Kenobi lineage at the source.

#by apples #star wars #the clone wars #ahsoka tano #alpha-17 #anakin skywalker #*pouts eternally because alpha was supposed to be in charge of the 501st #and gl robbed us of ahsoka being mentored by this grumpy fck*#sw not!fic

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valaks · 3 years ago

Text

Signals: Deleted Fic

Summary: When Alex had come to SCORPIA it had been in hopes of getting answers but at every turn he seems to walk away with more questions. The only thing he can cling to is the memory of the man who sent him here and his protege who is now guiding him. At least Nile’s nice...for a terrorist but that’s really more than Alex can ask for.

“D’Arc said you made quick progress on the hand signals”

Alex was still getting used to hearing praise. It’d been longer than he was willing to admit since he had received anything more substantive than an “I’m glad you’re home and safe”. That it was coming from a man who Alex had learned the hard way was objectively very, very dangerous…it didn’t speak well of the direction his life had been going.

Not that coming to SCORPIA was really a bright and shining moment for that either but at least here he felt a little more...settled than at home. Everything here was easy in a way that Brooklands hadn’t been in quite sometime. He was still behind in some subjects he hadn’t made it to chemistry which made some of Gordon’s lessons difficult at best but in others he exceeded. That his classmates stayed closed lipped at the very worst only made things that much easier to slide in and feel comfortable.

“Yeah, some of them overlap from what MI6 taught.” He tried to brush it off but Nile stopped dead in his tracks fixing him with an unreadable stare, on anyone else at Malogosto it would be natural but on Nile who kept such a good temper it was disconcerting.

“Don’t lie, Alex, our hand signals aren’t anything remotely like 6s.”

“How do you know?” He was genuinely curious but also hoping to switch subjects because Nile was nice but also terrifying and maybe lying to him hadn’t been his best decision

“You’ll study them here, well, the big ones - CIA, MI6, SVR, and the rest who try to play world police.” Nile said with a flippant hand wave “Now why don’t you tell me the real reason you know them?”

He really shouldn’t be surprised, Nile wasn’t a school teacher he could fool with questions and misdirection. He was informative and helpful but there was a limit and he got the feeling he was reaching it. “My uncle taught them to me when I was young.” And that had been as much of a shock to Alex as it apparently was to Nile who took a step back, something unreadable flashing through his eyes. Gone as soon as he saw it.

“Odd choice for an MI6 agent...” he murmured

“Maybe he didn’t want other people to see me using them, might’ve thought it would make people see me as a target” People like you went unsaid.

Nile nodded thoughtfully, “It’s possible he learned them from Hunter, your father.”

“You don’t think that’s why do you?”

“No,” there was a note of approval in his voice and Alex did his best to ruthlessly repress his own pride at having garnered it. Nile’s next words did a great job of smothering it “I think you were always meant to come to SCORPIA, Alex, ideally in 4 years when MI6 had more of a chance to groom you. Thankfully you found us on your own.”

There was just the smallest thread of doubt there and Alex had the sudden urge to tell him that he had, that he was tired of being used by MI6 that he belonged here in a way he hadn’t belonged anywhere since Ian’s death. Nile seemed to find what he was looking for and nodded.

“Do other people feel that way too?” It wasn’t subtle but subtleties were lost on Nile who seemed to be able to read him like a book.

“Of course,” it wasn’t comforting “Those doubts hang over the head of every operative we have that switches sides. Your youth helps, of course.”

“And it helps to have a second in command watching my steps.”

Nile flashed him a smile “Yes but there is more to it than that. If they wanted to prove your loyalty there are easier ways - interrogation or any seasoned operative but they chose me, why do you think that is?”

Nile liked these little thought exercises. Pressing Alex to understand his position or lessons was a favorite last time. Alex now saw them for what they were - a test. Unfortunately, one he would fail.

“Honestly, I don’t know” he didn’t, not really not when they had perfectly good instructors, not when Nile’s time was infinitely more valuable in the field. It didn’t quite add up but then this entire experience had felt a little surreal.

“Mrs. Rothman is interested in you as are the rest of the board. You have a family history that speaks of talent but more importantly you have a far more recent history that shows the skill and determination to use it. You have foiled two of our operations, ones that were planned and executed by Cossack who had a...reputation for being thorough and never failing.”

“Before me.”

“Before you” Nile agreed “Some on the Board attribute your success to his weakness. I don’t believe that is true and neither does Mrs. Rothman. She has had the other two youngest Malogosto graduates under her command to fantastic results, she feels you will be similarly successful.”

“I know you are the youngest.” Are because Alex hadn’t graduated yet and mercifully had quite a bit of time before he could really consider what that would entail. “But who was the other?”

“Cossack, he was 19 when he trained with your father.”

“Oh”

“Yes, oh” Nile looked amused, but there was something more to it than that. It wasn’t the first time he had caught it either. If Nile was assigned to him then maybe….

“Did he mentor you?”

Nile gave him a long look and then nodded “Not while I was at Malogosto but once I left and started making a name for myself.”

“Can you tell me about him?” It came out more forcefully than he intended. Yassen represented a lot of unanswered questions in his life. Alex wouldn’t be here without him having killed Ian but he also wouldn’t be alive at all for that matter. If Nile couldn’t tell him about his father, maybe hearing about Yassen would fill in some of those blanks.

“Another time, maybe.” A casual look down the corridor was enough to signal that it wasn’t a ‘no’, just an inopportune time and place. “I’ll talk to D’Arc about transitioning you into the other hand signals. After dinner we’ll be headed back to the range 72% is good but they’ll be introducing different targets soon. I want you to have exposure to them before your progress is scored and reported tomorrow.”

Nile didn’t have to explain all that. He could have ordered Alex anywhere and he would have gone. Maybe he knew that explaining things was the easiest way to get Alex’s compliance, or maybe he needed him to be aware of the stakes, Alex liked to think that it was because despite his background Nile did genuinely want to see him succeed. He held onto that because he hadn’t had anyone who wanted that and was willing to help him succeed in a long time. And maybe it was fitting that the line of mentorship would keep going.

#alex rider #alex rider fanfiction #Nile Abara #yassen gregorovich #Mentorship Circle of Life ish #deleted fics

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worldwidemochiguy · 5 years ago

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Finish That Sentence (M)

When he opened his mouth again, you could taste the anger dripping past those sinful lips.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Kitten, when I say ‘No’… it isn’t a suggestion.”

“Good, I didn’t ask for one.”

➵ Warnings: 18+, Yandere Jimin, Smut, Fingering, Oral (m and f receiving), Edging, Penetrative Sex, Daddy kink (oop), Jimin calls you kitten a lot, Slight Degradation

➵ Word Count: 4K

➵ Masterlist

“I’m sorry, what did you just say, kitten?”

You swallowed hard, willing your hands to remain steady as you clenched them by your sides. Don’t give in, you told yourself, stifling the urge to just surrender and beg for mercy. You’re in the right.

“I-I said,” You stammered, flushing when he smirked at your undeniable nerves. You cleared your throat and made another attempt, hoping in the brief time passed since you last opened your mouth you had somehow grown a backbone.

“I said… I want to go out tonight.”

“Oh. Well, of course, kitten.” Jimin replied smoothly, and you knew it had been too easy, you couldn’t relax just yet. “Where do you want me to take you?”

“Actually, um…” You hesitated, and your boyfriend raised a mocking brow.

“Go on, baby, I’m waiting.”

You took a fortifying breath, before letting it all cascade out of you.

“I want to go to a friend’s party and it’s at a club and I don’t want you to come.”

Your breath ran dry. Jimin’s jaw muscles jumped under smooth skin. He rose from where he was reclined on the couch, standing up so that the two of you were eye to eye.

You could see every ounce of restraint weighing down his muscles, slowing his arm to a glacial pace as he tucked his index finger under your chin. But, in those eyes, there was a rage swirling in the depths which you often glimpsed but never submerged yourself in. You wondered if this was the night where you would finally get the chance to drown.

When he opened his mouth again, you could taste the anger dripping past those sinful lips.

“No.”

In that one word were a thousand utterances, a thousand missed opportunities to have fun with your friends who you missed so much, and all because of him. You had rolled over and played dead so many times, but you have had enough.

“Yes.” You snapped, and his eyes widened, in danger of revealing the roiling currents of fury underneath the placid surface.

“Kitten, when I say No… it isn’t a suggestion.”

“Good, I didn’t ask for one.”

Your back ached as Jimin slammed you against the wall. His hand — which had slipped behind to cradle your head, preventing injury — came down to encircle your throat, while his other busied itself restraining your wrists above your head. You had no choice but to arch into him in discomfort. He pressed his body against yours, revelling in your small whimpers.

“Kitten thinks she calls the shots, huh?” Jimin asked patronisingly, before grinding against you. You thrashed in his hold defiantly, even as a part of you went molten beneath his body heat. “You think you can speak like that? To me?”

“You say worse things to me every- oh!” Your breath hitched as his teeth dug into that sensitive spot below your ear. You felt him smirk against your heated skin, a huff of laughter at your choked moan as he rolled his hips against you once more.

“That’s because I’m in charge, kitten. You’re mine. You have to show me some respect.”

That comment drove you over the edge.

“I’m- you- get off of me!” You shoved him away, making no effort to help him as he stumbled back, eyes hooded and lips swollen from the effort to carve his ownership into the bruises on your neck. Surprisingly, he didn’t attempt to plaster himself on you again. He merely watched as you tugged your shirt back into place, smoothing your hair down with a trembling hand.

“I am not your property.” You stated, annoyance flaring as Jimin chuckled. “I can… I can do what I want. I’m an adult. You can’t just tell me what to do or I swear to god I’ll-”

I’ll break up with you.

The threat had been on the tip of your tongue when his eyes met yours. And there it withered, died, and blew away on the wind. You had been right. Tonight would be the night you drowned in Park Jimin.

His rage was no longer on a leash. It sunk itself into his muscles as he prowled towards you, step by step, until you were voluntarily pressing yourself against the wall in an effort to evade him. He paused a hairsbreadth away from you, close enough to feel the tension of each coiled muscle, pulled taut and waiting to pounce.

“Or you’ll what?” He breathed, and you flinched. The corner of his lips tugged upwards, and a finger trailed delicately along your cheekbone. Soothing the lamb before the slaughter. “C’mon kitten, what’re you gonna do, hmm?”

“I-I… uhm-”

“Go on, finish that sentence.”

His finger tensed, the nail cutting into your skin.

“I…” You hesitated, before closing your eyes and swallowing your pride in one rancid gulp. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to go. You were right.”

His gaze flickered with satisfaction, but it was not enough to temper the overwhelming wrath which swum in the depths of his dark eyes.

“That’s not what you were going to say, is it, kitten?” He leaned in to run his nose along the column of your throat, making you whimper slightly as he put pressure on the capillaries he had burst with his possessive kisses. “Say what you want to say, like I told you to. It’s okay, I won’t get mad.”

You’re already mad, you would’ve said if his teeth weren’t so close to your jugular.

“I was going to say… that I would… b-break up with you.” You whispered, and his entire body tensed. “B-But I didn’t mean it!” You hastened to add, reaching for his hands and clutching them desperately, “I wouldn’t really break up with you! It was a lie! I’m sorry!”

“Good girls don’t lie.” Jimin replied eventually, his voice devoid of all emotion even as his eyes screamed bloody murder. “You must be mistaken. Good girls don’t lie and I know you’re my good girl.”

“I am your good girl.” You responded frantically, gripping his unresponsive hands as if you could force your sincerity in through skin contact, “I’m your good girl and I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I was just being stupid!”

“Well at least you didn’t lie about that.” Jimin looked up at you, eyes twinkling with sardonic satisfaction. “You are stupid if you ever think you could leave me and get away with it.”

The world tilted on its axis and it took you a few moments to realise Jimin had tossed you over his shoulder. You went limp, resigning yourself to the punishments you were bound to endure. Whatever it was, you just had to take it, it would be easier for you that way.

It was difficult to navigate your apartment upside down. It was also unnecessary. You knew where Jimin was taking you. Sure enough, after a few moments of breathless disorientation, Jimin flung you down on your shared bed, remaining at the foot, watching with dark eyes as you tried to rearrange yourself into some semblance of dignity.

“You lied about wanting to leave me.” Jimin’s voice was cutting, like it always was when he found a reason to punish you. And, inexorably, you had to submit to him.

“Yes.”

“But we already know that good girls don’t lie. What does that make you, kitten?”

Your mouth went dry. You knew what he wanted.

“I-I’m a bad girl, Jimin.”

“Jimin?” He repeated, and you belatedly realised your mistake as he strode around the bed and wound a hand in your hair, yanking it back ruthlessly.

“Daddy! I’m sorry, daddy!”

“What are you, kitten?” He asked again, and you held back a sob. You liked it so much better when he was kind to you.

“I’m a bad girl, daddy.”

“And what do bad girls deserve?”

“…Bad girls deserve to be punished, daddy.”

He leaned down, bringing his face closer to yours until the tips of your noses almost brushed. If you had been good, Jimin would have maybe kissed the tip of your nose, making you both giggle. But you hadn’t been good. You had been bad, and now you were being forced to reap what you had sown.

“Do you think you deserve a punishment, kitten?”

No! All you had wanted to do was go out and meet your friends, there was nothing wrong with-

Jimin yanked your hair again and you gasped, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes.

“Y-Yes, I deserve a punishment, daddy.”

“Use your manners, kitten, c’mon. Ask nicely.” He hissed, and you nodded obediently, as much as you could with his grip still painfully tight in your hair.

“Please, daddy, punish me. I’ve been a bad girl. I deserve it. Please.”

“Well done, kitten.”

You resented the fact that you blushed at his praise, something which made him snicker, trailing a hand down your reddened cheeks.

“So eager,” He murmured, cupping your jaw for a second before he shoved you away.

“Hands up,” He commanded, and you slipped into the familiar motions, raising your crossed wrists to the headboard where you knew a pair of restraints were affixed. Jimin made quick work of your hands, electing not to bind your ankles, arranging your body as he wished.

After five minutes, your clothes had been removed whilst Jimin remained fully dressed, gazing at you with dark eyes. He had positioned you sat up against the headboard — to which you were tied — with legs spread wide open for his convenience.

Your cheeks burned as he climbed onto the bed, unable to stop the instinctual clenching of your legs together. He gripped your ankles and ruthlessly tugged them apart again, laughing cruelly as you squirmed.

“Now, now, kitten, don’t move. You look so pretty like this.” He breathed, eyes fixed firmly on your core which, to your embarrassment, was practically dripping on the bedsheets.

“Sorry, daddy.” You whined, twisting your wrists against their ties restlessly, appreciating the slight burn which kept you rooted in reality.

“So polite, baby, aren’t you?” Jimin smirked, still making no move to touch you, “Where were these manners earlier, hmm? Or, is this what you wanted all along?”

“Yes,” You whispered, trying to wrap your legs around Jimin’s waist and tug him closer, to his amusement, “Daddy, please, touch-”

“Oh, baby wants me to touch her?” He laughed at your insistent nod, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, please,” You babbled, sinking fully into the headspace, “I’ll do anything, daddy, I want to such your cock, I want you to fuck me, please, anything-”

Your speech melted into a high-pitched whine as Jimin shoved a finger in you without warning. Though his digits weren’t very long, they were thick, and you could feel each knuckle as his finger sunk into you, stretching you out crudely.

“You’re so wet,” Jimin chuckled, crooking his finger in a way that made you see stars, “God, I could just fuck you right now, couldn’t I?”

“Yes, please dadd- ah!” You moaned as Jimin added another finger, scissoring them within you and making you feel so deliciously full.

It must have made quite a sight. Jimin, in slacks and a black button down with the forearms rolled up, viciously pumping his fingers into your naked writhing form, already starting to glisten with sweat.

By the time he added a third finger, you were gone. He kept rubbing insistently over the bundle of nerves within you, and each time his fingers were buried to the hilt, he would roll his thumb on your clit, making you clench tight on him over and over again.

“Jimin, I’m going to- oh please, ah, let me come, daddy, please?”

Jimin hummed, sitting back on his heels as he seemed to mull over the question, all the while pumping his fingers viciously into your tight hole. You tried to roll your hips onto his hand, meeting his thrusts, but he braced his other hand over your hips, pinning you down so you were forced to just lie there helplessly and take whatever he gave you.

“Daddy, I’m-” You started to convulse as you felt the familiar tug at your belly button, the pleasure building within you and about to overflow, and Jimin yanked his fingers out of you abruptly.

You whined as you felt the cool air brush against your empty hole, close to tears as the blinding pleasure of the orgasm dissipated, leaving behind an uncomfortable sensitivity.

“Daddy,” You moaned, kicking your legs petulantly, “I was about to come.”

“Only good girls get to come, kitten.” Jimin stated, and you felt like you were about to cry.

“I am a good girl!”

“Oh, really?” He asked, eyebrow cocked at your pathetic form, lying prone on the bed.

“Yes, I promise, daddy, I’m good.”

“Okay, then.” Jimin murmured, unconvinced, bringing his fingers covered with your slick up to your mouth. “Suck.”

You took them into your mouth obediently, bobbing your head up and down, letting your tongue dart out to lick at his knuckles. He shoved them into your mouth suddenly, and you gagged, but didn’t pull off. He cooed at you as tears began to brim at your eyes.

“Oh, kitten. You’re such a greedy little slut, aren’t you? So eager to have something in your mouth, poor baby.” Jimin cooed, and you whined pitifully around his fingers. “I’m going to untie your wrists now. Is that okay, baby girl?”

You nodded obediently, leaning back as he fiddled with the restraints. He captured your mouth in a filthy kiss as he did so, jamming his tongue into your mouth and twisting it sinuously around yours as if he was trying to taste the arousal you had licked off his fingers.

You let out a groan of relief as your wrists were finally free and Jimin snickered, eyes shining with satisfaction as you rubbed the red marks. He sat back against the headboard, directing you into a position lying on your front between his legs.

“Take my trousers off, baby.” He commanded, and you obeyed quickly, unzipping the slacks and tugging them down. Through his briefs, you could see the bulge of his erection, thick and hard, a slight wet spot where his precome had pressed against the fabric. You flushed with pride at the thought that just fingering you had made him so aroused.

“You have to take off my briefs now, kitten.” Jimin said, almost amused since you had just been staring at his cock for the last minute, trailing your hand up and down his muscular thigh distractedly. At his command, you nodded hurriedly and pulled them off, finally allowing his erection to spring free.

You licked your lips, and Jimin laughed.

“So fucking desperate, aren’t you kitten? What a dirty slut my baby is.”

“Yes,” You mindlessly agreed, “Your baby.”

Jimin took himself into his hand, hissing slightly at the contact, and slapped his cock against your face. You whined, trying to chase it with your mouth, and he finally gave in.

“Okay, open up baby.” He murmured — unnecessary since your mouth was already wide open — taking hold of your jaw with one hand and using the other to feed you his cock.

Immediately, you took him in down to the base, nose brushing against the spare hair as your throat contracted around him frantically, trying to swallow. His fingers wound into your hair tightly, and he began guiding you up and down his length, using your throat as a cocksleeve.

“God, so fucking-” Jimin grunted, dropping his head back as you gagged around him, “So fucking perfect, kitten. My perfect baby slut. Take me so- ungh - so well.”

You moaned around his length, both at the praise and the feel of him, heavy on your tongue.

The knowledge that you were being used to chase Jimin’s selfish release made you slip even further into headspace, where everything was a hazy mess of overwhelming pleasure and stinging pain. You could feel the urge to come, which had cruelly receded as fast as it arrived, slowly flowing back into you.

Jimin braced both legs against the bed bracketing your head, giving no warning before he began thrusting harshly into your throat. He held your head steady as his hips pistoned into you, groaning as you whimpered and spluttered around him, tears running down your flushed face like a river.

You had no chance to breathe, and when you were light-headed enough that you truly thought you were about to faint, Jimin yanked himself out of you. You weren’t allowed to slump against his thigh like you would’ve liked, as Jimin held your face in place as he came, strokes of white decorating your tongue, cheeks and even your forehead.

You stayed there, eyes closed, until Jimin released you and you collapsed against his leg with a gasp. His fingers stroked through your hair distractedly as your and his pants mingled in the heady air.

“So good, baby.” He praised you softly, and you whimpered. “Do you want daddy to take care of you?”

“Yes, please, daddy.” You begged, excitement starting to reenergise you as Jimin tugged you up the bed.

“Such a polite little girl,” He mused, smiling as he watched you shuffle into place, lazily unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it aside.

“You’re my baby girl, right, kitten?” Jimin purred, and you echoed back mindlessly.

“Yours, daddy, your good girl.”

Jimin swiped a finger through the still-wet come on your face, lifting it again to your swollen lips.

“Suck, but don’t swallow.” He instructed you firmly, and you nodded, eagerly taking the finger into your mouth and swirling your tongue around the familiar bitter taste.

Once Jimin had fed you all the come that had lingered on your face, he leaned in for a filthy kiss. His tongue explored your mouth, collecting all the come he had made you keep like some sort of pet. As soon as he pulled away, leaving you breathless, he shot you a cocky smirk — even with his mouth full — and lurched down to your core.

He fucked you with his tongue, spearing the muscle with sharp motions, drawing out a truly unholy sound as he spat back his own come into you. The feel of it, wet and filthy and degrading, made you clench around thin air. Though, Jimin soon remedied that. He plunged two fingers back into you down to the last knuckle, leaning up slightly to suck your clit.

“Ah, fuck, daddy!” You cried, back arching as Jimin added another finger just as he laved his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves. “P-Please, oh, fuck me, please.”

“You like that?” Jimin purred, his lips glazed with your slick and come, “You like being daddy’s little cumslut? My own personal fuckdoll?”

At his crude words, Jimin shoved another finger into you, meaning he was pumping almost his whole hand into your tight hole as you moaned and cried. Tears were running down your face from the stimulation, but Jimin just didn’t let up.

“Yes, I’m- ah, I’m your fuckdoll! Daddy, please, m’gonna, oh, m’gonna come.”

Jimin pulled his mouth away from you to give your core a sharp spank. You jerked away from him, but couldn’t put up much resistance when he tugged you back.

“You aren’t going to come unless it’s on my cock, understand, kitten?”

You whimpered pitifully, and his voice softened.

“Does my angel want to be fucked now?”

“Yes,’ You sobbed, clutching at him desperately, trying to pull him up, “Please, daddy, I’m- m’your angel, please.”

“Okay, kitten.” He smiled at you benevolently, wiping his slick-covered face on the bedsheet before pushing himself up on his forearms and crawling up the bed to you.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders as soon as you could, tugging him close until your rapidly rising chests were touching. He captured you in a kiss, slanting his mouth against yours in a way that made your toes curl, swiping his tongue into you possessively. You gave into him with ease.

When you felt his head nudge at your entrance, you whimpered against his mouth, but instead of rejoining your lips like you had expected, Jimin pulled away completely. Ignoring your protests, he sat himself up on his knees, lifting your hips until they rested on the top of his thighs.

He gripped you firmly, stopping you from any attempt to roll your hips, so his cock was infuriatingly just out of reach, though every so often he would shift and the forehead would brush your clit, making you moan pathetically.

“Daddy,” You whimpered, so close to release and yet so far, “Please, fuck me. Please.”

“You’ll never say anything like that again, right baby?” Though his voice was soft, his eyes were merciless as they watched you writhe in desperation.

“Say what? Daddy, I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re… just- please-”

“You’ll never disobey me.” He stated, and you shook your head fervently.

“Never, I promise!”

“You’ll never ask to go to a club without me.”

“I won’t! I don’t want to go anywhere without you daddy, I’m sorry.”

“You’ll never…” He hesitated, his voice cracking slightly as he repeated, “You’ll never threaten to break up with me.”

You gasped, the arousal building in you becoming more painful by the second.

“I won’t! I won’t! I’m yours, daddy, only yours!”

Jimin smiled.

“There’s my good girl.”

When he rolled his hips into you, you saw stars.

He was so thick, filling you so completely. He picked up your hips and started pounding into you right away, thigh muscles bunching as he shoved himself into your tight heat over and over again.

“Feel so good around my cock, baby.” He grunted, hands painfully tight on your hips. You hoped he left bruises, “So perfect, you were made for me. Made to take my come, like a good little slut.”

“M’your slut,” You babbled, mouth hanging open as Jimin fucked you brutally, “Please, daddy, touch-”

“Of course, baby.” Jimin murmured, moving his thumb inwards slightly to press against your clit as his cock stretched you out.

“I’m- daddy, can I- oh, can I please come?” Your eyes rolled back in your head as Jimin angled your hips slightly different and began a volley of thrusts that battered directly against that spot that made red-hot pleasure coil in your gut, “Please, I wanna come on your cock, wanna be yours, daddy please.”

“Such a good girl,” Jimin groaned, falling onto his forearms and grinding his cock into you, “Yes, go on, baby, come. Come on daddy’s cock.”

At his permission, you let yourself go, writhing on him as your vision blanked out. He rode through your orgasm, pressing his cock into you in slow, maddening circles before letting his own come spill into you as well.

The two of you collapsed against the bed, uncaring of how sweaty and gross you were, simply panting to get your breath back.

“Jimin?” You managed to get out, and he propped his chin up on your chest, a lazy, satisfied smile on his face.

“I- You know I didn’t mean it, right?”

“The break up thing?” He questioned, as if it could be anything else, and you nodded. A little huff of laughter brushed your chin.

“Well, that’s good to hear, baby, but I know you didn’t. And even if you did, it wouldn’t matter.”

“It wouldn’t?” You asked, and a devilish smirk painted itself across his features.

“No matter what you say or try to do, I’ll never let you get away from me.”

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nalgenewhore · 5 years ago

Text

Too Late To Turn Back Now - Four

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter

an: kinda like....getting in to it now....

+*+*+*+*+*+*

The sun was already bright when Elide jumped up at eight am, her biological clock forcing her awake. For the first seconds of the day, she thought it had all been but a dream so she peered around the wall of pillows separating the bed in half.

Lorcan was sprawled, half-off the mattress, on his stomach, his head buried in a mountain of pillows. Elide let her eyes wander down his back, tracing the traditional tattoos marking coppery-brown skin of his back and arms. She swept her eyes back up his spine to the thick hair braided back in two Dutch braids, the silver chain he wore glinting in the morning light.

She looked her fill until her eyes dipped down to where the duvet was covering his frankly fantastic ass. Elide quickly snapped her eyes away and felt her face heat as she climbed off the bed and grabbed a hoodie to throw over her tank top and sweatpants.

Something buzzed in her bag and she rooted through the pockets before retrieving her phone, seeing all the calls she’d missed from her boss, including one from Benson.

Her lip curled and she walked on silent feet to the balcony that overlooked the yard and the ocean. The glass door clicked shut behind her and she clicked on the immigration agent’s voicemail, his slick voice coming through the speaker.

“This is Agent Benson, calling to inform you that your unscheduled drop-in can happen at any time. If either of you come to your senses, call back to set up a deal.”

Elide viciously hung up the phone and slammed it on the balcony railing, pacing back and forth angrily, her brows drawn tight together. She was still muttering obscenities in an ancient language when Lorcan lumbered outside, pulling his hair from the braids. The sight of his bare chest, the smattering of dark hair on his pecs and the trail leading from the grooves of his stomach down below the low-slung waistband of his shorts was enough to make her pause in her anger. Lorcan rose a brow at the fury on her face, not a stitch of cosmetics gracing it for once, “What happened?”

“Benson called,” she muttered, continuing with her pacing. Elide moved to the railing to pick up her phone to show him the voicemail, only to find that in the heat of the moment, she’d smashed the screen. “Fuck it all to hell.”

Elide looked ready to explode and out the corner of his eye, he saw his sisters, tea mugs in hand as they squeezed themselves into one of the wooden chairs circling the fire pit, giving them direct access to the balcony. Lorcan reached out to Elide and smiled, “Come here.”

She wrinkled her nose at his outstretched hands and took a step back, frowning at his smile. “What. No, what are you even doing?”

“My sisters are watching so come here, and give me a hug,” he said through his smile, his cheeks growing more tired by the second. When she still didn’t move, Lorcan sighed and tugged her close, wrapping his arms around her. “Want to stay in Doranelle? Give me a fucking hug, princess.”

Resentfully, she curled her hands on his chest and laid her cheek above his heart, his body heat warming through her face. Elide felt his hands slide down her spine to the small of her back and sighed softly, relaxing into him.

“That’s it,” he murmured, gently rubbing her back. “I’ll order you a new phone and we can go into town to pick it up, ok? But first things, you need to go get dressed.”

“Dressed for what?”

“Brunch, my love.”

“Don’t call me that.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Lorcan sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time in the five minutes he’d been waiting for Elide. “Elide, c’mon, can we just go? I’m sure you look fine.”

The bathroom door slammed open and Elide walked out, yet another pair of heels on her feet. Elide wore a baby pink silk slip skirt that ended mid-calf and a chunky cream sweater, paired with delicate gold necklaces and dainty matching hoops. Her dark hair was down and fell in romantic waves down to the small of her back. Her pointed-toe pumps matched her skirt and her thick lashes had been lengthened and darkened with mascara.

She spun, “Well? Suitable, is it, Mr. Salvaterre?”

Lorcan sweeped his eyes up and down her figure, nodding absentmindedly. “You look good. Can we go?”

Elide waltzed up to him, taking deliberate steps until she got to his side and tucked her hand in his elbow.

Elide surveyed him in his outfit, sweeping her cunning eyes up and down his figure. Lorcan was wearing a ribbed fisherman’s wool sweater and a pair of navy slacks, the collar of his business shirt poking above his sweater. “I didn’t know you wore glasses,” she whispered, taking in the round, tortoiseshell spectacles. He looked quite dashing, the bottom half of his ruthlessly beautiful face graced with fashionable stubble, and his hair braided back into a bun at the crown of his head.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he said, not too kindly. Elide supposed she deserved it. They weren’t friends and he was being blackmailed into a marriage that could very well end his law career before it even started.

Shaking off the feeling of guilt, Elide rested her head against his bicep, shocked again to find that he was pure muscle. Get it together, she berated herself, this is so not the time to be attracted to your associate, Elide.

“Ready?”

Elide looked up at him and nodded, “Yeah. I’m ready.”

Not another word was passed between them as they walked into the brunch. They had gone all out and Elide’s eyes widened at the amount of people, all chatting quietly with plates of food or drinks in hand. Odette walked up to them and hugged Elide, “Welcome.”

Elide tensed as Odette hugged her but then slowly melted into the embrace. She’d forgotten what it was like to be hugged by a mother. Quickly, she blinked back tears, “Thank you for going through all this trouble for us.”

“Oh, don’t worry! This is the first time Lorcan’s brought home a girl,” she said, dismissing Elide’s concerns. “Now, help yourselves to food and drinks.”

With that, she swept away, going to talk to other party guests.

Elide tapped Lorcan’s shoulder, waiting until he leaned down. “I’m going to go get a drink.” He nodded and she was off, smiling and nodding as she slipped through the crowd to the bar.

No one bothered her as she mixed various liquors and syrups in a glass and picked apart a muffin, feeling isolated amidst the happy brunch-goers. Everyone was chatting, laughing with old friends. Elide looked up and searched the room for Lorcan, finding that he had been cornered by his great-aunt, Maeve.

Elide hadn’t exchanged two words with the woman, hadn’t even seen her since their arrival and she was glad of it. Something about her made shivers run down her spine and she could see Lorcan grow more and more uncomfortable as she appeared to be berating him for some reason or another.

Deciding she would graciously save him from the situation, Elide turned back to make him a drink, stumbling for a second when it hit her that she didn’t know what he drank. She didn’t know a thing about him and he knew everything about her.

At an office dinner once, she’d seen him with a glass of whiskey in his hand and that seemed to fit him, so she poured him two fingers worth and added some other things to make it more appropriate for brunch. She’d worked as a bartender all through her undergrad and law degree and hadn’t forgotten the skills she’d picked up at the swanky cigar club.

With a decisive nod, she squared her shoulders and made it back to his side, just in time to hear him harshly spit: “Elide and I are engaged.” Everyone around them froze, including Elide, the ice cubes in his drink clinking against the glass.

Maeve’s eyes widened and her face hardened after her initial shock. Elide recovered from her freezing and smoothly stepped up to Lorcan’s side, holding his drink out to him, “I didn’t know we were telling anyone yet.”

Lorcan whipped his head to her, his anger checking as he saw Elide and the drink. He didn’t know what it was, but took it, puzzled as he looked down at its contents. She tapped the bottom with her fingertip, “You’ll like it.” He warily looked between her and the glass as Elide turned to face Maeve. “We were hoping to tell everyone a little later, but yes. We’re engaged.”

Lorcan looked down at her, opening his mouth to say something when someone clinked a glass. They looked up out of their own bubble, confused as they looked around to find that everyone was staring at them, the people closest to them urging them to share the story.

Excusing themselves from the corner with Maeve, Lorcan and Elide walked to the centre of the room. He sipped from his drink and raised his eyebrows before sipping again. She mumbled into her glass, “Told you you’d like it.”

“Yeah, yeah, El,” he said under his breath, sliding his arm around her waist and tucking her into his side. They fit just right. “You’re always right.” Lorcan was looking across the room at his mother, wincing until he saw her pleased expression, barely a difference to anyone who didn’t know her, but her eyes were bright as she pulled Aneha and Sadirah inside.

Elide beamed up at him, like a girl in love as their audience settled down. “Well, it was beautiful. He did wake me up at midnight, which I wasn’t too happy about, mind you,” she spoke clearly, commanding the room’s attention without demanding it, just like she performed in court. Elide paused as a chuckle ran through the crowd and sipped from her drink, clearing her throat before continuing. “We went for a drive to this gorgeous waterfall ten minutes outside of the city and sat in the bed of his truck, wrapped up in this huge blanket, just watching the stars.” Elide swallowed hard and blinked quickly, “Sorry, there’s something in my eye.”

She carefully wiped them and ignored the look he gave her, the question dying on his lips. “So, we saw this shooting star and I asked him what he wished for. Nothing big or fancy, just… that I would say yes to his question. I had no idea what he was talking about and asked him what question.” Elide looked up at him, something sorrowful in her expression, “And then he asked.” She waved her left hand and Lorcan saw that she’d moved the diamond ring she wore on her right hand to her left. “And his wish came true.”

There was applause and soft cheers before someone started a ‘kiss’ chant. Elide and Lorcan laughed it off, shaking their heads and smiling tightly until Maeve gave her a disapproving look and Elide saw red. She put her glass down on the table before her and took Lorcan’s as well, looping her hands around his neck and pulling him down. They didn’t kiss yet and Lorcan whispered, “What are you doing, princess?”

“Just trust me,” she answered, leaning in, and pressing her lips to his. He responded immediately, his hands on the small of her back as he dipped her. Elide gasped softly into his mouth, her lashes brushing against his cheeks as her eyes fluttered shut. Countless moments later, they came up for air, their chests rising and falling unsteadily as they stared into each other’s eyes.

Lorcan righted her and looked away, his cheeks tinted pink. Elide reluctantly tore her eyes away, flushing as the guests laughed and clapped. She flicked her eyes to where Maeve had been to find that she’d left and sighed in relief, reaching for her and Lorcan’s respective drinks. He nodded absentmindedly as she pressed his glass into his hand and Lorcan lifted it to his lips to drain the rest, “Let’s get out of here.”

Elide agreed and they slipped away. They didn’t get very far before a gentle voice was heard. “A lawyer, huh? You’re really marrying up, Salvaterre.”

Lorcan whirled around, Elide forgotten as he laid eyes on a beautiful woman. She wore a pair of black mom jeans and a green silk tank top that contrasted wonderfully against her warm brown complexion. “Essar?”

The woman, Essar, laughed and Lorcan crossed the hall to sweep her into a hug, lifting her off her combat-booted feet for a few seconds, “What are you doing here?”

Essar laughed as he set her down, her hand fondly resting on his upper arm, “Your sisters made me come.”

“From Varese?”

She shook her head, tucking a strand of dark brown hair behind her ear, “No, I live here now. Moved back a year ago. I teach kindergarten.”

“Oh lords, over at Wayawakiya*?” He turned to Elide, as if just remembering that she hadn’t disappeared back to Hellas’ realm, “That’s the school we went to.”

“Oh.”

Lorcan was oblivious to her unenthusiastic answer and turned back to the woman. She smiled, “We’re being rude, Lor. Introduce me to your bride!” They both turned to her and beckoned her over. “Hi, I’m Essar. It’s lovely to meet you, Elide.”

Elide was coming to the realization that hugging was the normal greeting in the Northern Isles because she had never been hugged this much. Still, it was nice and Elide could see herself getting along well with Essar, despite the situation.

“Essar and Lorcan were quite the item during school,” an icy voice helpfully commented. Without looking, Elide knew it was Maeve and didn’t deign to look over her shoulder, grabbing Lorcan’s hand to deter him.

Essar chuckled, “Yes, well, that’s old old history.” Lorcan nodded in agreement, but the look in his eyes told a different tale. “Anyway, I’m going to get going, I promised Dresenda I’d help her at the bar, I’ll see you two later, I guess.” Essar gave a two fingered salute and walked back down the hall.

Slowly, Lorcan turned to face his great-aunt but Elide dug her nails into his hand, not giving him a chance to say a word before she was pulling him away.

She tugged him to the patio and let go of his hand, going to lean against the railing just as a group of men spilled outside and started yelling at Lorcan. Elide watched, mildly terrified as a silver-haired man tackled Lorcan to the deck and the rest followed.

The door opened again and two women walked out, rolling their eyes at the boys’ antics. They were both tall and drop dead gorgeous. One had long corn-silk yellow hair that fell nearly to her hips and fair skin, her eyes bright blue. The other was a few centimetres taller than the blonde woman and had deep brown skin, her coily curls styled in a fluffy afro that was decorated with golden cuffs. They matched the little septum ring she had piercing her nose. Her voice was even and had the gentle lilt of an Eyllwe accent, “Don’t mind them. They haven’t been all together for a while. You must be Elide.”

“Yes, that’s me,” she replied, still watching, half-concerned, as they pulled Lorcan up and he squared up with one of them, one who looked like him but gentler. More tame. “I’m Elide.”

She laughed a tinkling laugh, “It’s lovely to meet you, Elide. My name is Nehemia and the blonde one is my boyfriend.” Nehemia pointed out one of the men, his short hair styled in meticulous waves and bleached blonde. “His name is Fenrys, and then you have his twin, Connall,” Elide’s gaze slid to the next man, identical to Fenrys save for his hair – worn in a high-top twisted fade style and his natural colour. “Oh, sorry, I should let you say hello to Aelin here.”

Aelin laughed and nodded, pulling Elide into yet another hug, “Hi, I’m Aelin! It’s great to meet you, Elide.” She let Elide go and they all turned to watch the boys interact. Aelin pointed to the silver-haired man, “That’s my boyfriend, Rowan. The one that looks like Lorcan is Vaughan, they’re cousins. Vaughan and Lor grew up together here, but they all met in university.”

Lorcan turned, as if hearing Aelin’s voice and let out a shout, “G-Money?”

Elide and Nehemia chuckled as Aelin held her arms open and swaggered forth, “In the flesh.”

He laughed loudly and they hugged briefly before they began a complicated handshake, one with many steps and ending with a chest bump that nearly knocked Aelin on her ass. She just laughed and hugged him again, her feet lifting off the deck. He let her go and walked over to hug Nehemia, kissing her cheek, “Hey, Mia. Still with the pup?”

Nehemia laughed as Fenrys made an offended squawking sound and Elide was introduced to the boys. Aelin clapped her hands, “Alright, Elide, you need to change.”

Elide looked down at her clothes, confused, “Why?”

“We’re taking you out. Come on!”

She looked to Lorcan, eyes stricken, but he just shrugged, “Better get going, princess.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Lorcan watched the boat depart, standing on the patio. He worried his bottom lip, fiddling with his leather watch strap as they drove off. Aelin and Nehemia had roped in his mother and sisters, strong-arming them into joining their outing.

He tried to not worry but Elide didn’t exactly have the best social interaction skills. She approached everything in life as if she were still in court and he wouldn’t be surprised if she clashed with one of the women and this whole mess became just that little bit extra messy.

He was still fiddling with his watch and staring at the empty ocean, the boat long gone, when Rowan walked out. “Lor,” he said, his hand resting on Lorcan’s shoulder. “You good?”

Lorcan smiled, pretending like Rowan could see right through him, and nodded, “Yeah, ‘m fine.”

Rowan sighed and rubbed his eyes, “What are you doing, Lorcan? You’ve hated this woman for years. Tell me what’s happening.”

His throat tightened as he searched for the right words. He didn’t want to lie to his best friend – his brother – but there was no other option. “I don’t know, Ro. Things changed.”

“That’s what you’re going with?” asked Rowan, his brows lowering as Fenrys, Connall and Vaughan slowly walked out, their faces unreadable. “’Things changed’?”

Breathing out slowly, Lorcan nodded. “It’s different now. I’m in love with her.”

Vaughan snorted and shook his head, “Whatever you say, L.”

“What—”

“I get lying to your sisters and aunt, but your mom? Us?” Hurt bled through Fenrys’ voice and Lorcan opened his mouth to say something, anything, but no words came out.

Connall, ever the peacemaker, placated them, “Boys, let’s calm down, ok? Let’s give Lorcan the benefit of the doubt and not fight, agreed?”

They all muttered their agreement, but the look in their eyes told him this was far from over.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

After two hours, their spat had been long forgotten and the boys were all sitting around a bonfire, smiling and laughing as they recounted tales of the days when they were youngins.

Right now they were laughing at Vaughan as Lorcan recalled one crisp November morning when he’d been called in a panic to drive the boat a couple islands over, where he’d found his cousin in his briefs standing on a cliff’s edge, terrified as he glanced over his shoulder and jumped into the sea, swimming to the boat as one of the elders yelled obscenities at him.

The sounds of people’s voices interrupted them and they looked up to find that the girls had arrived back. Elide and Aelin were walking together, chatting quietly. He wasn’t surprised that they got along at all.

When Elide’s eyes flicked to his, the light in them guttered and she grew sadder, deflating. If anyone noticed, they didn’t show it as the twins ran up to the bonfire and their attention shifted. Elide stayed in place as the girls joined them, Odette smiling and accepting bear hugs from all the boys. Quietly, Elide said, “I’ll be in the house.”

She neatly spun on her heel and walked away, the boys stiffening and shooting him dirty looks as Odette said, “You should go talk to her. There’s a surprise.”

Lorcan grimaced as he stood, “You know how I feel about surprises, iná**.”

“You’ll like this one though!” yelled Aneha, sticking her tongue out at him when he gestured rudely at her and nodded goodbye, his long legs not taking long for him to catch up with Elide.

She looked so much different in a pair of blue jeans and a lavender-coloured wool sweater, her hair in a thick braid that rested on one shoulder. “Elide, what’s wrong?”

Elide didn’t answer him until they had crossed the yard and entered the house. She toed off her slip-on sneakers and refused to look at him. “Elide. Tell me.”

“We’re getting married on Sunday.”

Lorcan’s breath left his lungs in a rushed exhale and he fought for air. “What are you talking about, it’s their birthday on Sunday, are you really trying to take that away from them?”

Elide snapped her head up, her eyes blazing, “No, of course not. I’m not some fucking prick who walks in and takes whatever she wants-“

“Could’ve fooled me,” he snarled, kicking off his shoes and pushing past her to the kitchen. “I need a drink and you need to explain yourself.” Lorcan sat at the bar but didn’t move to the liquor cabinet as Elide walked in, her brows lowered over ire-filled eyes.

“We were at Dresenda’s,” she said. Dresenda’s was the local pub, owned and operated by Essar’s sister. As she mulled over something, she pulled out a shaker and various liquor bottles, her motions like second nature as she mixed a drink. “And they asked me how it came to be, because for the last two years all they’ve heard is how much you hate me.” Elide’s voice didn’t diminish in pitch or strength, but he flinched all the same, regretting the fact that she knew just how badly he talked about her to his family.

“Elide-“

She didn’t give him a chance to say anything as she shook the mixer vigorously, “And then I said we wanted to wait, but we just didn’t care anymore. It was Sadirah’s idea and they all agreed, even Essar.”

“Ess was there?”

“Yeah, she was helping Dresenda with serving. She said she wanted you to be happy.” An uncomfortable silence fell over them and as if to break it, Elide pushed his glass towards him before she fiddled with her ring. “I got an email from Benson. He’s set up our scheduled interview and sent sample questions. I printed them out.”

He hated how quiet she had become, her words muted. From her back pocket, she pulled out a thick bundle of folded up papers, attempting to smooth them as she unfolded them. “Here.”

Lorcan took the papers and flipped through them, scoffing. “I know all of this already.”

“You do?” Elide took the papers back and her eyes widened as she scanned the list. “All of these?”

Chuckling, Lorcan sipped from his drink and was surprised, yet again, that she’d made something this good. “Try me.”

“Fine. Let’s see,” she perused the list, flipping back and forth before her eyes lit up. “Mm. How do I take my tea?”

“You don’t drink tea. You drink coffee, exclusively, and your usual is a sixteen-ounce cappuccino with one package of sugar – nothing else. Too easy, Lochan.”

Her eyes narrowed, “Fine. Do I have any scars?”

“Yep, one on your right ankle and I’m pretty sure you have a tattoo.” He leaned forward, swirling his drink around.

“Oh, ‘pretty’ sure?”

“Mm-hmm. Your dermatologist called a couple months back, asking about a Q-switch laser. Obviously, I searched it up and found out that it’s for—”

“Tattoo removal.”

“But you asked me to cancel the appointment. So. What is it?”

Elide shook her head, returning back to the questions, “We’re done with that.”

“You have to tell me, they’re going to ask—”

“I’m not telling you, so quit asking me,” she said, in a tone that brooked no arguments. “We’re done here.”

He didn’t know what he’d said to offend her as she hastily dumped the drink materials in the sink and turned on the tap, viciously washing as he slowly stood up and walked up to her side. “Are you going to tell me about that engagement bullshit you made up?”

“No.”

“Fine,” he seethed, angry at her for being so closed off, angry at her for being rude and unfeeling, angry at her for once again ruining everything. “Then at least tell me why you can mix drinks like this.”

Elide didn’t answer at first, but her scrubbing became gentler until she sighed heavily. “My uncle made me make drinks for him and his friends. During university, I got a job at a private bar and worked there until I started as crown counsel.” Her words became strangled and she coughed as she rinsed the shaker, not looking at him as she whispered, “And the story wasn’t bullshit, Salvaterre.”

Without another word, she put the clean dishes in the drying rack and disappeared down the hall, leaving Lorcan to the realization that he didn’t know a damn thing about Elide Lochan.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

*Wayawakiya: School

**Iná: Mother

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chockfullofsecrets · 4 years ago

Text

Critical Role: Sleep and Stories

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Gen

Summary: Here, sitting with Caduceus in the rooftop garden of what with the Mighty Nein’s growing penchant for multilingual portmanteaus was becoming colloquially known as the Xhorhaus, he was feeling oddly relaxed.

A little too relaxed, maybe.

Fjord has trouble staying awake during one of Caduceus’ stories. It’s not hard for Caduceus to find a way to help him pay attention.

Wordcount: 2710

A/N: An anon sent me a description of a fic they were looking for, and even though we couldn’t find it the idea was so soft that I decided it had to exist :)

Fjord was starting to see the appeal of gardens.

He definitely had a long way to go before becoming a proper follower of Melora - it was painfully easy to picture the Wildmother’s well-meant disapproval every time he got within five feet of some foreign plant or animal and promptly embarrassed himself - but here, sitting with Caduceus in the rooftop garden of what with the Mighty Nein’s growing penchant for multilingual portmanteaus was becoming colloquially known as the Xhorhaus, he was feeling oddly relaxed.

A little too relaxed, maybe. He and Caduceus had just finished cleaning up the kitchen after dinner, and he had asked for one of the stories of the Wildmother that his fellow disciple seemed to be in endless supply of. Fjord was doing his best to pay attention, but up here it felt as if the entire world was wrapping around him and lulling him to rest - the ever-present darkness broken only by the glow of divine lanterns, the gentle rustle of a thousand leaves in a slow breeze, the smell of earth and greenery in every direction telling him that he was being watched over and cradled in caring hands. The worst culprit, perhaps, was the bass of Caduceus’ slow voice, pitched even lower to better embody the gravity of the ancient tale he was telling. It gave him the childlike urge to lay his head against Caduceus’ chest, to feel the words echo through the emptiness Uk’otoa’s orbs had left inside him and take root in his bones. Not, he thought sleepily, that he would have been able to act on such an urge as the orphan child or the lonely adult that he had been only a year ago. He was endlessly fortunate to have such an intimate gesture as even a passing consideration now.

Maybe, just maybe, the Wildmother was telling him to go to sleep before he did something stupid.

“You’re not listening at all, are you?”

Fjord came back to himself at the remonstration, realizing with a sudden shock that he was no longer imagining the physicality of Caduceus’ voice. A quick canvassing of the surroundings revealed that he had, in fact, dozed off on top of Caduceus, temple pressed just below his collarbone.

Oh, Wildmother, nature really was a fickle bitch sometimes.

“Oh! My apologies, Caduceus, I - the story was lovely. I’m afraid it failed to compete with the tranquility of the lovely space you’ve created up here.”

Caduceus waited for him to trail awkwardly into silence, chuckling as Fjord tried and failed to stifle a stray yawn. “That’s fine, Fjord. I’m glad you like it up here, and I know I’m not the most exciting person to listen to. Why don’t you head down for the night?”

“No,” Fjord protested, feeling terribly guilty as his impromptu pillow started to get up, and in a moment of brash inspiration he slumped further into Caduceus until he was certain the firbolg wouldn’t be able to move without toppling them both. “Start again, please, if you have the time. I’m the one who asked you to tell a tale, and I would truly love to hear it.”

Even from a low angle, he could make out the surprised twitch of Caduceus’ ears, the corner of a smile in sudden bloom - he was pleased, heartbreakingly so at such a simple courtesy, and Fjord resolved instantly to say nice things to him more often.

“Might be easier to stay awake if you sit up,” Caduceus told him. One of his hands came up, and Fjord thought for a second that Caduceus might shove him off. Beau would definitely have shoved him off by now. But the hand simply enveloped his shoulder, warm and waiting.

Fjord elected to take full advantage of the invitation. “You’re comfortable,” he grumped, scrubbing the side of his face against Caduceus’ homespun shirt before it occurred to him how weird a thing that was to do.

Caduceus rumbled beneath him in quiet amusement - if Fjord wasn’t pressed up against him, he didn’t think he would have noticed. So much about Caduceus, he was starting to realize, was buried about six feet deep beneath his placid exterior. “Well, then. In that case, maybe this will keep you up.”

Natural as rainfall, his hand skimmed off Fjord’s shoulder and down his ribs, his thumb tracing a meandering line along the side of Fjord’s stomach. Fjord flinched instinctively, sniggering before he could stop himself, and buried his nose in Caduceus’ shoulder with even less decorum than before to keep himself from laughing outright. “Ah - I-”

Caduceus, entirely unworried, swiped his thumb back up and then down again. “Yes?”

Part of him was trying frantically to think of how Caduceus knew that he was ticklish - had he seen Beau prodding at him? Did Jester let it slip? It was the same part of him that, even now, kept track of how visible his tusks were every time he opened his mouth, the part that bristled in fear-anger-control when he met someone taller or broader than him or at a certain look in a bystander’s eye.

The rest of him, still soothed by the scent of plant life and the drowsy contact of cheek against skin-warmed cloth, was awash in mirth as goosebumps prickled in the wake of Caduceus’ fingers. Fjord tried to encourage it; his side was already growing sore from shoving into Caduceus’ space and holding himself there and so he sprawled even further to pillow his head in the firbolg’s lap, met his tranquil gaze and let the helpless smile pulling at his lips settle as it wished.

“I’m listening,” he said, hyper-aware of how the syllables crackled with laughter. “For - hm! - for now, at least.”

Caduceus started the story again. It was, surprisingly, easier to stay awake with the new sensation, the lazy loop of Caduceus’ fingers altered just enough at each pass to keep them constantly nudging at his attention. His fingers caught on the edge of Fjord’s navel, once, and he apologized mid-sentence as Fjord snorted out a proper laugh and squirmed in an involuntary moment of panic.

Stories of the Wildmother, from what Fjord could tell, had no clear rise or fall of action, just a simple sectioning by quests or commands or pure happenstance. Still, he could tell that the tale was nearly over when the trapdoor leading up from the tower to the garden creaked open.

Silver-tipped horns and blue hair popped up over the edge in a pretense of stealth, violet eyes making the most cursory attempt to evaluate the scene before the tiefling they belonged to sent the wooden door clattering open and scrambled up. “Hel-lo! Caduceus, can I ask you something - oh, hi Fjord! - ooh.”

Caduceus wasn’t talking anymore, but his thumb continued to rub gently against Fjord’s belly. Fjord tried to prop himself up on an elbow anyway, at least making a token attempt at dignity, and realized a moment too late that his muscles had apparently jellified in the face of his ticklish stupor. He wobbled and ended up right back on the ground where he’d started, cheek planted against Caduceus’ thigh. “Hi, Jester,” he sighed. Squeaked, if he was being honest.

Jester crept over to him as if he were some kind of rare woodland animal - though, knowing her, she’d probably rush straight at the thing and try to scoop it up - and cooed. He would have been embarrassed, but his ability for it had apparently disappeared along with his brain’s connection to his arms.

Relaxation was wild.

Still, something tweaked the pit of his stomach with subdued alarm as Jester suddenly blocked out his entire field of vision. “Oh, can I?” she asked abruptly, fingers out and wiggling diabolically. She wasn’t looking at him.

“Um,” Fjord said.

“Sure,” Caduceus allowed easily from what seemed like miles above his head. “What did you want to ask me?”

There were a number of things Fjord wanted to say about this development, most of them starting with ‘wait, what?’, but then Jester was scrubbing her fingers over his belly in a way he was pretty sure he’d seen her do to her dog once and it was entirely impossible for him to participate in any sort of conversation given how desperately he was laughing. “Jes!” he barked, scrambling for her wrists, or maybe to tickle her in return - if Caduceus’ ministrations had mired him in quietude, then Jester’s brazen attack was certainly a trigger to fight back.

Unfortunately, whatever battle lust he could muster couldn’t change the fact that he was at a complete disadvantage - he was prone, no armor of any sort to protect the soft spots that Jester was ruthlessly exploiting, and the way he was leaning against Caduceus made it nearly impossible to free either of his arms. Jester’s tail clamped around his knee, squeezing in a way that made his entire leg spasm, and he laughed even harder in a poor attempt to repress outright hysterics. “A-hah!-Jes, c’mon, stoppit-”

“Shush, Fjord, Caduceus and I are talking,” Jester said, almost petulant in her teasing. Her casual disregard was immediately belied by the warm smile she gave him, ruffling his hair into a complete disaster over his eyes before returning to tickling him silly, all the while chattering with Caduceus about pastries of some sort.

Fjord thought that maybe this was going to be how he died. Well, at least he was here with two clerics; he’d probably come back.

“Fjord,” Caduceus said what seemed like an entire hour later, catching the last fraying edge of his sanity as he looked up in desperate hope of salvation. “Should I start telling the story again?”

“The- the story?” Fjord’s spine nearly broke of its own accord as Jester zeroed in on a particularly delicate spot just south of his ribs. “Noho! She’s going - gods, plehehease Jes - she’s going to kill me, help!”

Fjord continued to plead for his life as Caduceus frowned slowly, processing the situation, and finally - “Oh, Jester, wait - hey, now-” He reached over Fjord, and abruptly his body was blessedly free from evil tickling fingers and Jester was squealing with laughter of an intensity that made him wince on her behalf.

Fjord finally struggled up to his elbows, wheezing out the remnants of giggles as he watched Caduceus efficiently mine every inch of ticklish flesh on Jester’s hips for unrestrained, screaming laughter. With his long reach, he herded her struggling form away from Fjord until she gave up completely and flopped to the ground in front of them, spouting fervently incomprehensible apologies.

Through it all, Caduceus didn’t even bat an eyelid. Fjord was probably going to have nightmares about this.

“There we go,” he said a moment later, rubbing Jester’s back where she lay face-first in the soil and glancing back down at Fjord. “Sorry, kind of slipped my mind there - you look, uh, purple? Are you okay?”

Thin fingers, appreciably delicate despite their size, brushed his hair away from his forehead and patted gently at his cheeks. As if he was a drooping flower, or a twisted stalk that needed to be nudged back towards the sun - it was tender enough to make Fjord dizzy.

“You’re my hero,” he confessed, grinning helplessly, and slumped back onto Caduceus with an unceremonious thump. “Okay, keep going, I want to hear what happens to Palak.”

Like one of Caduceus’ mushrooms, Jester’s head popped up from the soil with alarming speed. “Wait, is there a story?” she asked, pausing to spit out a mouthful of dirt. She was kneeling in front of Caduceus in an instant, one hand planted just shy of his furred leg in supplication. “Can I listen too?”

Her voice was light, but with his face so close to the earth Fjord could just make out the way her other hand clenched reflexively against her skirts in the face of Caduceus’ unperturbed expression. “It’s just been a while since I’ve had a nighttime story, you know? I mean, I read ‘Tusk Love’ all the time before bed because it’s the best story ever, but it’s not the same, and - ooh, does your story have true love in it?”

Caduceus tilted his head, considering. “Well, it’s an ancient tale that’s been passed down through my family. I suppose you could say it has a similar kind of devotion.”

“There’s a guy with a shovel that has a holy leather thong on the handle,” Fjord added helpfully. Jester’s grip on her skirts relaxed as she threw back her head and laughed at the unintended innuendo, just the way he knew she would, and he smiled back at her.

Caduceus smiled too, although Fjord thought it might be more in response to Jester’s happiness than an understanding of the joke. “Of course you can listen. Should I start at the beginning?”

“No, wait, I can do it,” Fjord insisted, reaching blindly up to pat at Caduceus’ shoulder. “I’ve heard it twice now, after all.” He cleared his throat as dramatically as he could while flat on his back. Jester leaned in, Caduceus looking down on them both, and Fjord dutifully recounted what he remembered of the tale - a barren, cracked land where seeds lay atop the earth and were ravaged by birds, a mossy-skinned orc receiving a sign from the Wildmother and following the jagged scars on the earth back to their source so he could dig up an ancient boon. Caduceus remained silent through his rendition of the tale, even when Fjord referred to one of the more persistent avian attackers as ‘a real fucker’.

He’d been told that he had a knack for stories out at sea, with all of his crewmates having nothing better to do when the winds calmed - accomplished liars, every single one of them. He wasn’t sure if the Wildmother would approve of his particular style of embellishment, but it did feel nice to tell a true story for once.

Eventually he reached the point where Caduceus left off and came to a stop himself. Jester appeared perfectly rapt, budged up against him and Caduceus with wide eyes and one leg crooked up over his arm. He looked next to Caduceus, somewhat anxious, and found him pleasantly approving. “That was really good,” he commended, and the compliment felt all the better for the way Fjord could feel it echoing through his skull. “You’ll do a good job of passing these on, when the time comes.”

“It’s not finished,” Jester protested, tail lashing animatedly behind her as she sprang up and unleashed a flurry of gentle slaps on both of them - being Jester, they still stung quite a bit. “Caduceus, tell us how it ends!”

“Please,” Fjord drawled, purposefully patronizing, and just laughed as Jester slapped him again before dutifully echoing the pleasantry.

He laughed again as Caduceus harrumphed and blinked, moving even slower than usual in a way that he read as absolutely intentional even before feeling the same slow rumble of amusement against his shoulders. “Sit still then,” Caduceus intoned, teasing, and with a pout Jester settled back with legs crossed primly, the picture of an intent listener.

From the corner of his eye, Fjord could see her trying to tickle the sole of Caduceus’ bare foot with her toes. Smirking to himself, he rolled over a little and added a finger or two to her efforts.

The rumble intensified into something that could probably be quantified as an audible laugh. Fjord was tempted to push further, but Caduceus reached out again, drawing Jester’s offending foot into his lap and bringing one silvered hand back down to Fjord’s belly in warning. “Don’t tickle me,” he said mildly. “I’m trying to tell a story.”

“Okay, o-kay,” Jester squeaked hastily, shuffling to accommodate the new twist of her legs and eventually just laying down on her side and cuddling up next to Fjord. Her hair smelled of paint and cinnamon - he wondered where she’d found the latter in Xhorhas, and decided he might be better off not knowing. “There, we’re ready, go!”

The soft breeze blew a little warmer, as if in approval. Fjord watched Caduceus smile up at his tree, at the lights, and found himself pleasantly sure of a happy ending.

#tickling #critical role #fjorclay #caduceus clay #fjord #jester lavorre #chocfic

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behindthehatred · 4 years ago

Text

Snapetober Day 9: Grief

Delilah didn’t even raise her head when she heard the door slam. She heard footsteps along the hallway and a thump as something landed at the foot of the stairs.

‘Miss Blackthorn?’ came a familiar voice. She didn’t answer.

After a moment Snape appeared in the doorway of the sitting room.

‘Fucking hell,’ he muttered.

‘Hi Professor,’ Delilah said listlessly from the sofa.

‘Are you ill?’

‘Huh?’

‘Are you ill?’ Snape repeated.

‘Nope,’ she said, still staring straight ahead. ‘I’m fine. Thanks for asking.’

‘If you aren’t ill, why do you look like you’re on your deathbed?’

‘Oh, just leave me alone.’

Severus stormed over to her, grabbed her by the upper arm and wrenched her into a sitting position. A crown of dead brown flowers slipped from the back of her head and shed a few crushed petals as it landed with a soft rustling sound on the sofa cushion.

‘What are you doing?’ she moaned.

‘Stand up,’ he commanded, yanking again at her arm.

‘Ouch,’ she said feebly, tottering to her feet. She pulled her arm from his grip and rubbed at the pink marks his fingers had left. ‘What’s your problem?’

‘I am plainly not the one with the problem. Your trunk was sent from your father’s house six days ago. Why are you still wearing the same clothes I left you in?’

Delilah looked blankly down at her blue dress and gave a half-hearted tug at its piteously rumpled skirt.

‘Dunno,’ she mumbled.

‘And when is the last time you ate?’

‘I woke up a couple of times and there was a sandwich beside me,’ she said slowly, frowning as though dredging up a distant memory. ‘I had a go at those. And someone keeps bringing me tea. I don’t know who though, I never seem to see them come.’

‘A Hogwarts House Elf has been assigned to care for you, for all the good it’s done. You are clearly spellbound by the glamour of your own misfortune, so have committed to a path of self-destruction. Perhaps you’d prefer that we withdrew our pesky efforts to keep you alive, and left you to suffer in peace?’

Delilah’s back stiffened, and she turned to Snape a face bearing an expression of purest hatred.

‘You think I’m enjoying this?’ she snarled, a hot throb of rage juddering through her with astonishing force. ‘You think I wanted to find myself in a strange house, entirely alone in the world? My father dead, my stepmother and sister in hiding, forbidden from communicating with my mother, Terry jinxed to forget he ever laid eyes on me, moving to a different school under a different name so I can exist as some kind of ghost?’

‘I think you are buckling under the weight of your own self-pity,’ Snape countered ruthlessly. ‘Yes, you’ve suffered losses, and yes, your circumstances have changed dramatically, but if you think yours is the tragic low-point of this blighted century, you are woefully misguided. Your tale is far from uncommon.’

‘Why do you care?’

‘Your self-absorption is almost inspiring in its resilience. It has been explained to you more than once that your life, or more precisely your death, contains consequences for the entire wizarding community.’ Snape clasped Delilah’s arm again and began to march her towards the doorway. ‘It is essential that you survive, it is essential that you remain undetected, and in order for that to happen you must resist the urge to draw attention to yourself.’

‘I’m not drawing attention to myself,’ Delilah growled, wrenching her arm again from his grasp. ‘I just want to be left a-fucking-lone.’

‘You expect to be left alone at Hogwarts if you slouch around with a face like thunder and hair like a bird’s nest? You expect to avoid raising suspicion if you refuse to wash, eat and change your clothes?’

‘When’s the last time you washed your hair?’ she shot back.

Snape lunged for her arm again and she span to avoid his hand, pulling her wand from the pocket of her dress and turning it on him in a blind rage. She had no sooner raised her arm than Snape’s wand seemed to materialise in his hand and he wordlessly disarmed her, then grabbed her by the shoulder and pushed her back against the wall, leaning into her, his wand-tip pressed to the side of her head.

‘Don’t raise your wand at me, you stupid child,’ he hissed.

‘I’m not a child,’ she panted. ‘I’ve been seventeen for almost an entire day.’

‘Nonetheless, you will bathe if I have to strip you and do it myself.’

Chest heaving with exertion, blood thundering through her veins, Delilah was assailed by the memory of Terry’s body pressing her against the garden shed at The Briar House as Snape’s was now, his trembling fingertips exploring her nipples, which even now responded to the memory, his palm sliding up her inner thigh, and as Snape’s obsidian eyes locked hers in a contact which she seemed incapable of breaking, she remembered that her dress had still been around her waist when he’d snatched her from that embrace, and recalled with a shock that the rough knuckle of his hand, clenched around the shaft of his wand, had been digging into the yielding flesh of her left breast as he restrained her, the side of his index finger nudging the pebbled skin of her areola. She felt a mad urge to tug the straps of her dress down and let it fall again from her shoulders, and imagined those flickering eyes slithering slowly down to her naked breasts, his hand sliding up her shoulder and tracing across her collarbone, then creeping down her sternum…

Snape suddenly released her arm as though it were scalding his skin, and stepped backwards.

‘You will wash and eat,’ he said roughly. ‘Today. I have recovered your belongings from your mother’s house. If you disobey me, I shall hear of it.’

She staggered at the abrupt release from his bodyweight and followed him into the corridor in time to see a flash of black vanish behind the door as it slammed after him. She saw her old suitcase lying at the foot of the stairs and sank to sit on the bottom step, willing her racing pulse to still.

This is an excerpt from Chapter 4 of my fic ‘Behind the Hatred’ - if you enjoyed it, please follow the link in my profile to read the rest.

#snapetober #behindthehatred #prosnape #severus x oc #severus snape #professor snape #snape community

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