#on the court or in the car or in the toilet or on the couch | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rhysismydaddy · 3 years

Text

Prisoner's Game Pt. 2 (Rowaelin)

Part 1

~Rowan~

Rowan didn't think he'd ever been so pissed off in his life.

The only time that even came close was when he lost his first and only court case, but over the years he'd come to live with that.

This though?

This immature, childish, irritatingly clever woman... he had a feeling he'd carry the rage he felt against her until the day he finally died of it.

Although, if he was honest, his returning move had been a little childish, too.

He'd ordered one of the guards to strip her cell of everything except the chess set. Her mattress, the makeshift knife he shuddered to think she'd had in the same room as him, her pillow.

If she wanted to steal his shit, he'd steal hers, too.

He'd also had the guard move one of his pawns forward on the board.

Not the most creative, but he didn't have many options.

What did you take from a woman who had nothing? How did you punish someone who was already serving the longest punishment available?

The bank had seized her assets when she'd been locked up, and the lease on her apartment had long since run out. She didn't have any personal items with her, didn't seem to even care about anything besides making his life hell.

Case in point, when he got home that night, exhausted from dealing with Aelin and spending a long day at the office, he'd discovered her retaliation.

She'd stolen his bed.

The whole goddamn thing, frame and all.

How she'd managed to get it out of a penthouse condo with security not realizing a thing, he had no idea. He knew from experience it wouldn't even fit through the door.

It'd seemed if she was going to be uncomfortable, so was he.

Steaming with anger, he'd showered and flopped on the couch like an idiot, not even able to sleep thanks to the rage she'd worked him into.

She was completely kicking his ass. From the inside of a jail cell.

He hadn't gotten more than a few hours of sleep before giving up on even trying. At six, he'd dressed and driven to Whitehorn and Salvaterre, the law firm he was a partner at.

If he couldn't sleep, he'd at least figure out how the hell she was pulling this shit off.

Looking through her folder, he went through her daily schedule, seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

Eight am wake-up, breakfast, shower, lunch, yard time, dinner, lights out at nine. Between activities, she worked out in her cell or read a book from the run-down prison library.

In the eight years she'd been in prison, she hadn't had a single visitor. Her cousin Aedion--a playboy Rowan couldn't be paid to associate with--delivered a care package on the first of every month.

Strange, considering nothing of the sort had been in her cell.

She'd been in solitary confinement ever since randomly attacking her cellmate a little over a month ago. She was still allowed yard time and meals with the other prisoners, but she was chained at all times.

Also strange, considering Aelin wasn't the type to do anything randomly.

Rowan watched the security tapes he'd strong armed the guards into giving him, going through the past few days to see how she'd gotten out of her cell to rob him.

He watched as she was escorted to the yard, watched as she ate breakfast and lunch and dinner alone, watched as she put herself through vigorous training in her cell.

Days of footage, and he didn't find anything.

Feeling like a bit of a creep, he watched the nighttime footage of her sleeping, but there was nothing out of the ordinary.

She didn't move too much or too little--both of which would indicate it wasn't really her under that thin blanket. There were no attempts to pick the locks in between her wrists and ankles, no digging into the wall behind her toilet.

Nothing.

Which meant someone was helping her.

He could go through the official channels and ask the police for her known connections, but he hadn't reported either of the robberies yet.

Partly because he wanted to deal with her himself, partly because he felt a bit stupid getting robbed from a woman in the most secure prison in the city.

Which means he'd have to go about it a different way.

Grabbing his keys from his desk, he debated how else he could make her miserable, unfortunately finding nothing else he could do to her, no revenge he could get from robbing her tiny little cell.

No, he'd have to try something new.

Maybe he could bribe her into confessing. She didn't have anything right now, but maybe he could give her something to lose.

He'd bring her lunch, force himself to apologize for yelling at her, and just politely ask who her accomplice was.

He thought on it as he rode down the elevator to the garage. It probably wouldn't work, but he didn't know what else to do.

And besides, he knew from experience Aelin didn't respond well to his anger.

Checking his email to make sure he wasn't missing any important meetings, he pressed the button on his car fob, expecting to hear the resounding beep from his designated parking spot.

Except the beep never came.

Slowly looking up, Rowan had to amend his earlier statement.

Now he didn't think he'd ever been so pissed off in his life.

He stormed over to the security booth, hardly refraining from grabbing the man inside and throwing him to the ground.

"Where's my car, Rolland?"

"In your spot, boss," the stout little man replied instantly and surely, snapping his gum and looking at him in confusion. "Haven't seen you drive out yet."

"Yes, exactly. Which is why it's a mystery why it's no longer in it's spot."

Rolland caught up slowly. "You mean... it was stolen? From here? From you?"

Jaw so tight his molars were practically fused together, Rowan growled, "Just let me see the security tapes from this morning."

The guard nodded quickly, eyes nervous as he typed something into the desktop in front of him.

"That's weird," he muttered a moment later, typing faster and sending Rowan a nervous glance.

"What?" he asked, trying to calm himself down with a few of the breathing techniques he'd learned over the years.

"The tapes are gone, but there's... this."

Rolland turned the screen so Rowan could see it, and all the breathing in the world couldn't keep him from slamming a fist into the side of the security shack.

The footage was gone, and on the blank black screen read: Bishop to J7.

He was going to fucking kill her.

~Aelin~

"Enjoy your taxi ride here?" she asked sweetly, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs.

Rowan scowled at her as he crossed the small room inmates could use to talk to their lawyers. He yanked the chair across from her out, then threw himself into it. "You are such a pain in my ass."

She just shrugged.

He sat across from her, angry and broody, and for a long time, he just stared at her.

Finally he asked, "Why are you doing this, Aelin?"

"I told you. You locked me up for something I didn't do. I want you to be as miserable as I am. It's simple, petty revenge."

Nothing about it was simple, but that was besides the point.

He was quiet for another moment. "Why now?"

She sighed, but she wasn't upset. Truthfully, she'd been waiting for him to ask that question.

"I want to tell you a story."

He stood up suddenly, face exasperated. "I'm not fucking joking around. And I'm not going to let you waste any more of my time."

He made his way to the door, and his dismissal of her pissed her off enough to say, "Sit down, or your car's going off Whigsby Bridge."

He smiled like he'd won their little game. "So you admit you have it."

"Sure," she said casually, honestly not giving a shit about the car.

His brow furrowed. "You're giving up? Just like that?"

"You're a fucking idiot if you think this is about your car, Rowan. But sure, I admit I know exactly where it, and your bed, and your little dagger are being hidden."

He narrowed his eyes. "This conversation is being recorded, and you just admitted to being an accessory to robbery, so-"

"You aren't going to press charges," she cut him off, pulling a cigarette out of her pocket and lighting it.

Nasty little prison habit she'd developed, smoking.

Or maybe she just did it because she knew he hated the smell.

"Oh, really?" he asked incredulously, eyeing the cigarette with disdain.

She grinned. "Once you sit and hear my story and realize I'm telling the truth, you're going to feel so guilty you won't even care about the car. Now sit down. I'd hate to see a classic get totaled because you're being stubborn again."

He glared at her, but came back to the table and sat down again.

Then reached over and snatched the cigarette from her lips, putting it out against the steel table top.

She just pulled out another, lighting it with one of her last matches. The irritation on his face made it worth the loss.

He waved a hand as if to say Get on with it.

She'd debated how to tell him this story for a long time. It was long, and messy and not particularly pleasant for her. But she wanted him to know the full thing, so she'd decided to start at the very beginning.

"My parents died when I was four," she began, ignoring his dramatic sigh. "I went into foster care, and as you can imagine, I was a particularly unruly child."

She smiled at the few memories she had. "I stole from the nuns, snuck out of my room at night and ran through the house, set all the clocks back an hour so we could sleep in. Small stuff. But it irritated them, because they couldn't prove it was me."

"Sounds familiar," he grouched, making her grin.

"I was adopted by Arobynn Hamel a year later."

As she'd predicted, his mouth fell open at that.

Arobynn was the known king of the underworld in Rifthold. He had a hand in every aspect of crime, yet no one could do anything about it because he never committed the crime himself.

His name was revered, so much so no one ever dared to cross him.

"But your record says-"

"That I stayed in foster care until I turned eighteen, I know."

Arobynn hated public records and had a deal with someone in the system that he'd take some of the kids off their hands if they kept quiet about it. Illegal as hell, but he wasn't someone you refused without suffering serious consequences.

It was the perfect crime. No one would miss unwanted kids, and it gave the system one less mouth to feed.

"I didn't know it, but he'd been watching me for a while. He... I don't know, saw something in me. Natural, innocent talent he could work with and turn into something different. He adopted me on my fifth birthday. And then he started training me."

"To do what?" Rowan asked, shoulders tensing.

"Everything," she answered with a shaky laugh, taking a long drag from her cigarette. "Stuff I wanted to learn, like how to pick a lock or walk without making sound. But as I got older, he taught me other stuff. Stuff I didn't want to know."

"How to kill," he finished, picking up on her tone.

She nodded, finishing her cigarette and flicking the butt on the floor.

"I was good," she told him quietly, looking down at the table. "By the time I was fifteen, he said I was the best he'd ever had. None of his other... children could beat me in a fight, not even the older ones who had a hundred pounds on me. And I could steal anything and not leave a trace."

His eyes didn't show an ounce of doubt, and she didn't know how to feel about it. But she kept going anyway.

"I was his favorite. I was his best asset, and I didn't care about anything that would compromise me. I lost my parents, and despite how much he wanted me to, I never loved him. I had no weaknesses. Except Sam."

"Another of his students?" Rowan asked, and it wasn't lost on her he said students instead of children.

She nodded. "We were adopted around the same time, grew up together. He was a year older, and whenever I had a problem, he was the one I'd turn to. He was good to me, and by the time I was seventeen, not a small part of me loved him."

Aelin broke off and took a deep breath, wishing she had another cigarette and trying to figure out how to put into words how much he'd meant to her.

"Was?" Rowan asked, so softly and quietly and understandingly that she was reminded of the man he'd once been, the one she'd loved.

Shaking her head to clear it, she said, "He made a mistake. He went on a job; he was supposed to break into one of the underground casino's owned by Arobynn's competitor and memorize the ledger, but he got caught. It was messy and horrible and stupid, and the owner wanted blood. Arobynn promised he'd kill Sam as retribution."

Rowan's eyes widened, almost like he hadn't realized how brutally she'd been raised until that moment.

"I begged him not to. Sam had saved me and helped me so many times that I couldn't not do the same for him. I told him I'd do anything."

She studied her hands, regret and guilt thick on her skin. "Arobynn said if I took ten of the jobs Sam was supposed to do, he wouldn't kill him. I thought they'd be similar to the one he'd messed up on, small break-ins or robberies. So I accepted."

A tear rolled down her cheek, and she batted it away as she continued, "The second I shook his hand, Tern--another of Arobynn's--shot Sam in the head."

Rowan's face blanched so quickly, she thought he might pass out.

He started to say something, but she spoke faster. "I... snapped. I killed Tern, tried to kill Arobynn. You called me a murderer, and that's true. I am, and I don't regret it. Tern was a sadistic bastard, and I'm glad he's dead. And one day, I'll kill Arobynn for what he did."

Rowan shook his head, confusion and shock and something similar to pity in his eyes. "Why didn't you leave, run away?"

She leveled a look at him. "I didn't exactly have a choice, Rowan. My punishment for Tern lasted for over a year."

There was a long pause.

"Punishment?" he asked in a breathless voice that made something in her chest hurt.

She looked at the table again, skin pebbling at the memory of that year. "He locked me in a cell in the basement, in the dark. Once a month he'd come in to ask if I knew someone named Sam. It took me ten months to get confused, another three to say no."

Still not meeting his eyes, she looked at his hands, noticing they were clenched so tightly the knuckles were white. And a part of her, buried under all the rage and resentment and sadness, warmed at the thought that he was... he was angry for her.

"It took me a long time after to figure out what was real and what wasn't. But Arobynn never let me forget our deal. And right before I met you, he told me the first job."

"What were the jobs?"

Aelin looked back up at that, the air thick between them as she said, "You already know."

"The murders."

She nodded, somehow managing to keep her spine straight despite the feeling of a hundred pound weight being lifted from her shoulders.

He at least knows why now, she thought to herself.

It was one of the things that had bothered her over the years. That he didn't know why she'd done what he thought she'd done. That he thought she'd.. wanted to do it.

He was silent for a long time, just watching her with a carefully emotionless face. "Thank you for telling me that," he said eventually. "I never could understand why."

Then he stood and walked to the door again, and it was only when his hand was on the handle she spoke again. "You asked why I'm doing this, and why I'm doing it now."

He opened the door but paused. Waited.

"It's because I tried to tell you this all those years ago, and you didn't care. You just assumed I was guilty because the evidence looked like it."

She spoke around the lump in her throat. "I told you I didn't kill those people, Rowan, and you didn't even care."

He spun around, slamming the door so hard it rattled, and in a split second, he was in front of her. A hand on the table, the other on her chair, he leaned down and got in her face.

He was so angry, so unbelievably enraged she couldn't believe it. He was angry?

"I didn't care? I didn't fucking care, that's what you think? Watching you get dragged away in cuffs was the worst moment of my life, and you think I didn't fucking care?"

Shock hit her like a bucket of ice water.

That moment was crystal clear in her mind, and she couldn't put what he was saying with what she knew.

He'd watched her with that same expressionless face, with cold eyes that had haunted her ever since.

She opened her mouth to say something, but he wasn't done.

"I fucked loved you! I thought you were the love of my life, Aelin. I begged you to tell me something that would help, tell me anything. But you didn't! You just kept saying you were innocent; you didn't give me anything to actually work with."

"I-"

"I found that stupid fucking list five days before I reported it, did you know that?"

She shook her head, because she hadn't.

"Exactly. You don't know what the hell you're talking about," he growled, eyes flashing. "I spent five days investigating it myself, trying to make sense of why you'd know those names. After your arrest, I spent two weeks trying to find anything, a single piece of evidence, that said it wasn't you. And after the trial, I spent another two months trying to poke holes in my own goddamn case."

He slammed a hand into the table. "I did everything I fucking could! I was desperate for it not to be you. I argued my case so your lawyer could plead circumstantial evidence. I put you on the stand so you could say anything you wanted. I went for life sentences instead of the death penalty to give you time to actually tell me what the hell was going on!"

She was breathing heavily, heart breaking and reforming over and over again at what he was saying, what he was implying.

"I didn't assume shit," he said in a low voice, so close they shared air. "You didn't tell me anything."

Aelin's voice trembled as she croaked, "I tried."

He shook his head, letting out a breath of amusement. "No, you didn't. If this past week has proven anything, it's that you don't try to do anything, you do it. You didn't tell me anything, Aelin. You're still not telling me anything."

"I'm telling you to look again! I'm telling you you didn't look hard enough, because I left breadcrumbs only you could find, breadcrumbs that explain everything."

"Stop playing games with me!" he shouted, eyes flashing with a fresh wave of anger. "It's been eight years! Stop holding onto whatever secret you're holding onto and just tell me!"

Gods, she wanted to.

He was the one person she couldn't trust with this secret, this stupid, most important secret, and yet he was the also the one person she wanted to tell it to.

She opened her mouth to tell him, but what came out was, "I didn't kill them, Rowan. I promise I didn't kill them. I can't... I can't tell you anything else."

"Jesus, Aelin," he spat, pushing off the table and turning to leave.

"Just look into it," she called after him, fingers digging into the table to resist the urge to try and follow him. "I promise you can figure everything out, and you'll understand everything. Please."

She knew why, after all this time, it was so important for him to know the truth when that hadn't been her original plan.

It was because she'd spent eight years believing he hadn't tried, believing she hadn't been a good enough person for him to even look into the possibility it wasn't her.

And maybe it was because he was once again leaving her, or maybe it was because she felt like she was in that courtroom again, begging him to believe her, or maybe it was because of something she didn't even understand yet.

Regardless of the reason, she found herself saying, "I loved you, too, you know."

He looked at her with sad eyes that she was sure mirrored her own and shook his head. "Not enough, apparently."

"You don't believe that," she argued, shaking her head and trying to keep the building emotions down.

"If you'd loved me, you would've told me. You would've given me the proof, whatever breadcrumbs you're talking about. You wouldn't have let me watch them take you away."

"Rowan-"

"You wouldn't have thought, for a second, that I didn't try to fight for you. And you sure as hell wouldn't have waited eight years to do whatever it is you're trying to do."

"I had to," she whispered, even as she knew it wouldn't be enough.

She shook with the effort to not tell him everything, but even after all he'd told her and how everything had changed, she just couldn't. Not yet.

He stood at the door, watching her with those eyes she'd once thought looked like the most beautiful emeralds. "Sometimes I think about it, you know. What life would be like if I hadn't tried to fix your sink in the middle of the night."

She smiled sadly. "Me too."

Rowan shook his head, gaze taking in her face like he thought he'd never see her again.

He thought it was over now, she realized. He thought that now she knew he hadn't given up on her immediately, now that she'd told him the story she'd wanted to tell him, that it was over and she'd give up.

"Look again," she whispered. "You know I didn't do it. It's why you're here, why you kept looking after the trial ended. You know I wouldn't."

"Goodbye, Aelin," he said instead, not telling her any of the things she really wanted to hear.

It wasn't until the door shut behind him she finally let herself cry.

She'd told herself that it didn't matter; that in a month the truth would come out and everything would be normal again.

She'd told herself she was only messing with Rowan for revenge, not because she wanted to see him again or test that he'd find the clues she'd left for him.

She'd told herself this was just a game.

She'd told herself all sorts of things that turned out to be lies.

~~~

Part 3

@audreycressworth @whimsicallyreading @onceupona-chaos @lil-unoriginal-weirdo-273sole @surielandiareendgame @captain-swan-is-endgame @poisonous00 @vasudharaghavan @sailorsassley @endlessdaydream @swankii-art-teacher @beanco8 @stokingthemidnightflame @mis-lil-red @ladyfireheart-and-buzzard @sheharahu @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @live-the-fangirl-life @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @gracie-rosee @rowaelinismyotp @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @inardour @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

#rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin #rowan #rowan whitehorn #aelin #rowan x aelin #throne of glass #throne of glass fandom #throne of glass fanfiction

188 notes · View notes

theravencawsatmidnight · 4 years

Text

Pink Chains Sequel

The oldest. Male, twin. Souta.(Means A sudden wind or sound)

The middle. Male. Twin. Kaito. (Means sea or ocean)

Youngest. Female. Kana. (Means powerful)

@galagcica @squeaky-ducky @kozushiki @haikyuu-but-low-iq @lunebabie @derpeedoo @kayisweird @zopzoop

“We do now!!!!” You told him, rubbing your stomach

“Swee..sweetie are you serious?” He climbed over the desk grabbing you and pulling you between his legs.

“Yep!!! Surprise Kyo!!!”

He was a little shocked for a few minutes, you were telling him how excited you were but he could not register it. A kid, not one but three. Will they be like him? Scary? Will they think hes scary?!?

“Kyo?” You lightly tugged his shirt so he would look at you. “Kyo whats wrong?”

He squeezed you sighing deep. “Im nervous sweetie thats all.”

You laid your head on his chest. “Well.. i am too . But! I have you to help and you have me. Not to mention all your friends. “ you took his ring hand to hold it and nuzzled his sleeve. “I love you, we will be fine Kyo.”

Kyo took in a deep breath and kissed your head. “Yeah, we will. I love you so much sweetie.”

It was an interesting nine months for everyone. Kyo had gotten his friends together for beach volleyball one night , you were there too but you were sitting with a sundress on looking excited.

“Soo...” Iwaizumi said, rubbing his head. “Whats this about?”

Oikawa and Mattsun were stumped too, so was Yahaba. Bokuto was trying to piece it together as well.

You got up and turned to the side and Kyo put his hand on your stomach. “Well... lets just hope you can deal with more of me”

Safe to say Kyo got tackled into the sand by everyone.

Time Skip to the kids being 7.

💕Kyo and Reader still live in his home. Iwaizumi does too since he owns the basement half of the house.

💕Chicken Legs had trouble adjusting to the children but Readers cats have helped relax and calm him. He's not so shaky anymore.

💕King is the kids number one fan. He is always there to help them with a prank on their father or to help them up and down the stairs.

💕Rex gets brushed every five minutes and he *loves it*. Kana also likes putting ribbons on his tail.

💕Mango is carried around everywhere by Kaito because he is small and “fun to carry”

💕The twins get up to no good alot. Souta is like the wind, no one ever knows if he's gonna do something. Kaito is more calm, like the ocean . But just like his brother, he's right there to lend a hand in mischief

💕Kana is attached to Kyo and Readers hip nearly 24/7 because she is scared of everything. She was tiny at birth. A “runt of the litter” Kyo called it, which gave her the nickname “Kana Pup” by Kyo. Everything is bigger than her and she doesn't like it. She's scared of Oikawa and it makes him sad.

💕Kyo and Reader own a bigger building together that they turned into The Dog House. They sell apparel but with Readers designs now too. The kids hangout at the shop usually after school.

💕The building has an upper floor or office area where Reader works on new designs / manages the finances while Kyo works the floor.

💕Souta and Kaito spend their days greeting customers and telling them specials (as best they can) . If Kana is not with her mother she is with Kyo at the register coloring under the desk so no one can see her.

💕kyo does not know what to do about Kana, he's worried she won't have friends and isolate herself. Iwaizumi suggests a hobby or club for middle school and Oikawa suggests volleyball.

💕its at the beach Kana realizes how fun volleyball is. She even lets Oikawa show her how to play.

💕Mattsun still has his tattoo shop. Kyo now has a back piece too. It's three wolf pups .

💕Kana joins the volleyball club

💕the twins join an art club and it is very interesting to them . Souta & Kaito are naturals at coming up with designs

💕iwaizumi babysits when Kyo and reader need alone time at the house

💕every now and then Kyo will check in on his kids at night, he leans on the wall of the door just watching them sleep. It's been a few years since they were born and he's still dumbfounded he could make such blessings

💕Kanas first game is a little rocky, she's nervous about people watching her. That is until Bokuto yells for the stands ‘all eyes on you because you are the star of this court!!!’ . She pulls through and turns out she spikes just like her father. They win because of her. Reader cries tears of joy and the twins are going nuts , Kyo pulls reader close kissing her

💕The twins debut a simple design. It's a crow with its wings out with a chain collar on its neck. Their parents love it.

Time skip to HighSchool

💕The kids go to Karasuno

💕The twins are in a design/business club

💕Kana is the wing spiker of her team. She is tall like her father and brings her team to Nationals.

💕Mattsun has a pretty little happy girl come into his shop one day asking for a fluffy kitty tattoo . Mattsun thanks god this is happening and gets her number

💕Oikawa & Iwaizumi still work at the Dog House. Oikawa now has the same volleyball tattoo his friends have. Iwaizumi helps the twins bring their designs up to sell online

After High School.

💕Kana plays for the Black Jackals. The twins have a successful online business selling their designs on different things.

💕Kyo and Reader have expanded the Dog House and it has more locations now.

💕Every friday night they spend their time laying on Kyos car with music on watching the stars in their backyard.

The end 💕

Little bonus mini drabbles!!

“raaaa!!!!!” Yelled Kaito

“Aaaarrgg!!!!” Yelled Souta.

Kana had her ears covered and had Chicken Legs laying down next to her with his paw over his eyes. She was sitting on the floor coloring in her book when her siblings rushed down the stairs with toilet paper and heavy eye makeup on their face and body. King, Rex and Mango were close behind with equal amounts of toilet paper on them too. This was a regular saturday...

Iwaizumi was on the couch watching these terrors run around the house . He pat Kana on the head counting quietly. “And 5...4...3...2...1...” The garage door could be heard and the twins and dogs stopped. Heavy steps and giggling were getting closer.

“Kaito.”

“Yes Souta?”

“It appears we are going to die today”

“Yes i believe so.”

Kana peaked at Iwaizumi and he just gave her that smile that made her get red in the face. The door opened and you and Kyo saw your kids covered in toilet paper and makeup. The dogs too. Kyo rubbed between his eyes and you giggled going over to Kana who was holding her arms up to you.

“Souta?”

“Yes Kaito?”

“It was nice knowing you.”

“Likewise”

(Whenever Kyo asks Iwai why he allows this he just shrugs and says “hey they aint my kids 😋”)

*💕

Kyo had picked the kids up from school and went straight into work. No one minded that the kids were there, they behaved. Mostly.

“Welcome to The Dog House!!!” Yelled the twins“The finest dogs and the biggest house!!! At your service!!!!”

Youd never seen so many metal heads giggle and chuckle like little kids before. Kana though, was under the register coloring and leaning on her fathers leg. Kyo leaned on the register looking down at his daughter.

“Kana pup”

“Papa..?” She asked, looking up, brushing her hair from her face.

“Do you wanna greet customers with your brothers?

She shrugged pulling the book closer. “N-no..”

He rolled his shoulders looking back up to see his friends frowning at him.

“Maybe a club will help”

“Or volleyball!!!”

*💕

The twins were running around the beach with Mattsun chasing them , Kyo, Iwa, and Kawa were tossing the ball to each other. And you were sitting on a towel under an umbrella with Kana clinging to your arm. You had noticed she was fixed on what her father was doing and you signaled to get his attention and pointed at yoir daughter.

“Kana pup.” He said, catching the ball. “Cmere for a second.”

She shook her head and you rubbed her side.”just for a second baby.”

Kana gets up joining her father and he crouches down behind her. “Put your fists together , be still okay?”

“ dont.. wanna get hit..”

“You wont i promise.” He nodded to Iwaizumi and he lightly tossed the ball to Kana . “Now just move your wrist down. Then connect with the ball semding it up”

As soon as the ball hit her wrists she whined turning around to hug her father. “Kana, look.” He turned her head . The ball was in the air . “You did it.”

“I.. i hit it.”

“Maybe Oikawa can explain better.” He said, getting up and Oikawa crouched down next to her. Kana whined giving him a scared look and he just held his hands out to recieve the ball.

“Its easy, promise!” The ball bounced off his wrists.

After a few tries Kana got the positioning right and even asked Oikawa to help and show her more.

*💕

One night Mattsun is at his shop filling in his laptop with appointments, transactions, bills. Its late, maybe almost 10. He liked to stay open when he had late nights like this. No one ever came by but.. it made him hope someone would. Mattsun was covered head to toe in tattoos. The bell dinged and he looked up from his desk and fell forward.

It was a girl; pink shoes, dyed highlighted pink hair, a white belly top and shorts. “Hey Mr!!!! Can i get a tattoo please?! A fluffy kitty or kitten? Do you do those? “

Mattsun smiled up at his ceiling . “Whoevers watching , thank you.”

He looked back over at the huffy girl. “Yeah i can do that Kitty, let me get a sketch going and you can tell me what you think.” He said with a very big smile. “Whats your name?” He asked , going around his desk to his wheely chair .

“Y/n!! “ the girl skipped over sitting in the chair criss cross. “Can you do it here?” She pointed to her inner thigh .

Mattsun thanked whoever was watching over him again but in his head. “I sure can y/n. I sure can.”

“No no!! Kitty!! I like it.”

Mattsun had a silly grin on his face now. “Okay kitty”

*💕

Its late at night and the only one up is Kyo. He was leaning on the wall watching his kids, ‘how did i get here?’ He asked himself while eyeing his bruised knuckles. Slowly he looked up. “I love you guys so much...”

“And i love you.” He heard behind him. A giggle too.

#kyotani 💕#kyotani x reader #kyotani headcanons #pink chains

40 notes · View notes

redbeansoups · 4 years

Text

The Bakusquad and dates.

Bakugo, as much as he hates to admit it, is a homebody.

Organizing dates is scary, and going out in public is stressful. He hates being overwhelmed with noise and sensations, and hates even more that he’s such a recognizable figure; all he wants to focus on is you.

Truthfully, he prefers more private affairs. Nights in are ideal; he’ll cook up a three-course meal just for you both, something warm and carefully prepared.

He grumbles when you offer to help; “I’ll cook—I don’t trust you not to set the kitchen on fire.” (It’s his own quiet way of caring—just smile and nod.)

He likes curling up with you on the couch with the TV on, even if neither of you pay much attention to it; it’s just nice having you in his arms as he dozes off and buries his face in the crook of your neck.

When things aren’t so busy, he takes you outdoors; he’s not much of a night owl himself, so early mornings are his go-to. He has a favorite hiking route; if you ask, he’ll pack you some homemade snacks for you, too.

Sometimes it’s a leisurely stroll, other times a light jog–but he’ll be sure to stay by your side regardless, pausing only to ensure you’re alright. He’s a bit of a mother hen, too, fussing aggressively over you (despite your constant protests).

“Let’s stop for water.” “No, Katsuki, I’m fine–” “You’ll dehydrate, so drink.”

Kirishima is an absolute romantic at heart. He wants nothing more than to shower you in affection, and he’s very traditional about it.

By traditional, I mean the full package. He likes taking you out for dinner dates–he thinks they’re a good opportunity to show off his courting skills, though he’ll stress over flowers and reservations for at least a week beforehand, doing his best to get every little detail right. (The dates are wonderful, though–hours of research always pay off, because he’s always finding the best food.)

He’s a fairly decent cook, too so if you ever find yourself wanting a dinner and a wine, you’re sure to get it.

Baking, though, is another matter; he’s not quite meticulous enough for it, so although he may try to surprise you with a cake every once in a while, it hardly ever goes as planned.

Speaking of surprises–this boy loves them. Intensely. It could be a random Friday night and he’d tell you to get in the car without explanation, and he’d drive you in directions you’ve never been before.

He finds the quietest places; grassy fields miles away, a quiet hilltop up north, a beach you’ve never heard of. Unbeknownst to you, he’s stuffed a picnic basket and blanket into the trunk and plans to set up a quaint little feast for the two of you under the stars.

“Eiji, we aren’t lost, are we?” “Nope! Just trust me :^)”

Kaminari’s a bit of a dork–but you knew that, didn’t you, when you decided to start dating him?

He loves involving you in his hobbies, even if he gets carried away on occasion–he can’t help it, really. There’s something exciting about introducing the things you love to the person you love, y’know?

Denki’s love for music is genuine–expect dates to the record store and walks in the park with a shared pair of earphones between the two of you. He’ll make playlists for you and let you listen as the two of you stroll around; he keeps an arm slung around your shoulder to bring you closer to him. Sometimes, if you’re lucky, you’ll catch him in a particularly musical mood, and he’ll strum a tune for you on his guitar.

Oh, and games–Denki is absolutely roping you into whatever he’s into at the moment. Sometimes it’s at arcades–he’ll definitely try to compete you in anything and everything–and sometimes it’s in the comfort of his bedroom, your controllers in hand and snacks littered all around you.

He likes thrills, too! He’s just.. not very good at handling them. He’ll suggest a haunted house, and then cling to your arm for the majority of the time (all the while shrieking for mercy). Escape rooms? Sign him the hell up—but don’t expect much from him in terms of help, because he’s not very good at puzzles; he just thinks they’re neat. He hurls on rollercoaster rides, too, but he’ll take you to amusement parks at any given opportunity.

If you thought Kaminari was excitable, wait until you see Ashido.

She likes high-energy dates; the kinds that spark laughter that clenches at your sides, that make you smile until your cheeks protest against the strain.

This girl will absolutely drag you all across town in search of a thrill–regardless of what time of day it is. She’ll take you on cute breakfast dates in the morning, to brunches in the afternoon, and top it all off with bar-hopping in the dead of the night. She’s not picky, because she knows how to make the best of any situation.

Mina is always ready for you. Run out of toilet paper at two in the morning? Cool–she’ll meet you at the convenience store down the road in ten minutes, and it’ll be a date; you can get ice cream together, and hold hands, and, oh boy, this’ll be great.

She does not hold back with her outfits, and gets extremely excited if you even suggest the prospect of letting her coordinate yours. She knows exactly what will look good on you; she’s spent so much time thinking about it, after all, so just leave it to her!

This girl yearns for a cute roller-skating date. She’s fantastic at it, after all; the motions come completely naturally to her, and she’d love to have you along with her for the ride.

If you’re a beginner, she’ll hold onto your arm as you wobble through your movements–and if you’re a veteran, well, expect to be zooming after her and entertaining her requests for races, because her competitive spirit is unrivaled.

Sero’s a mellow, go-with-the-flow type of guy; his affection is soft, gentle, a warm sensation that builds gradually over time.

He takes every opportunity he gets to spend time with you. Got a test coming up next week that you desperately need to study for? Sero will take you to the library and accompany you through the night, all the while cracking jokes to boost your spirits.

Hanta is great company to be around; humorous and easygoing while still maintaining a reliable air around him. Conversation is easy and engaging. Somehow, even grocery shopping with him is a treat–he’ll hold your bags for you, and he’s surprisingly good at selecting fresh produce.

He’s not a very good cook, but that’s okay! You can help him out (or you guys can get takeout; he’s really not picky.)

Expect dates where you lose all sense and track of time, the kinds where you spend hours cooped up in the corner of a little cafe, grins near-plastered on your faces. His smile is infectious, insanely so–and so is his laugh.

Along with his opportunism is a spontaneity. Sero isn’t one known for sticking to plans; sometimes he’ll drive you out for a dinner date and decide to take you to the movies instead (“It just feels like a movie day, y’know?”). He’s unpredictable, and a tad cheeky; sometimes he leans in for a hug and you end up with a kiss pressed against your lips instead.

Not that you’re complaining, of course :)

#i would be very happy going on dates with any of them #first time trying scenarios like these!! hope they're alright :)#bnha x reader #bnha imagines #bnha scenarios #bakusquad #bakugou fluff #sero hanta #kirishima eijirou #kaminari denki #ashido mina #bakugo katsuki x reader #sero hanta x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #kaminari denki x reader #ashido mina x reader #bnha fluff

205 notes · View notes

passivenovember · 3 years

Text

Let the Great World Spin.

Steve made the mistake of asking what Billy's major in Romantic Literature was, exactly, like two minutes after moving the last box into their new apartment. He tucked each corner of a baby blue fitted sheet into one side of the mattress while Billy worked on the other and wondered aloud If spending all day writing artsy-fartsy poems would be able to pay the bills.

Billy had frowned, and.

Clenched his jaw. Raised a dismissive hand when Steve began his usual parade of that's not what I meant and hey I'm sorry when Billy snatched his special box of shit--

A treasure chest containing rolls of floss, tube tops made of repurposed bandanas, one vintage lava lamp and a stack of True Crime trading cards--four from Dustin and one from Max--

Off the dresser before moving into the living room.

Steve followed, because.

Yeah.

He watched from the tasteful archway as Billy threw his box on the coffee table, lava oozing through ridges and tears in flimsy cardboard, and made up the couch with sunburnt looking cheeks.

Billy passed out there, with book on his chest, every night for a month.

So.

Naturally they were off to a great start.

Steve tried to apologize but Billy wasn't merciful. As annoying as it was cute, he couldn't deny it was one of his favorite things about Billy, the way he made people work for a spot in his life.

Steve tried to sweeten the deal.

A new Metallica tape here. Primary status library card there, but.

Billy wouldn't give.

Ever the poet, he didn't bury corpses in the sand until grand gestures were made. Declarations. Speeches. So on Friday night after spending two hours at the pub and returning home to find Billy asleep on the couch with a towel around his head, Steve climbed onto the coffee table and started talking.

"Billy Hargrove," Steve announced.

Billy started drooling on his chin.

Steve cleared his throat, embracing a more heroic stance; hands on narrow hips, foot on Billy's cardboard treasure box. "William Patrick Hargrove."

Billy startled awake, towel going lopsided as he sat up. He stared wildly around the room, raising his copy of Let the Great World Spin and aiming it at Steve's head. Poising the paperback to crack walls made of flesh and bone.

Steve held out his hands. "Wait, I just--"

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"I have something to say."

Billy snatched the towel from his head, folding it with as much grace as a hurricane. "What time is it, Harrington?"

Steve checked his watch, blinking sharply as the numbers started doing the macarena. He sighed. "Doesn't matter. Look--"

Billy looked.

Steve lifted his arms. Cleared his throat and repositioned himself on the coffee table to show that, after tonight, they would never have to be alone again. Billy's mouth cocked patiently as the third leg on the coffee table snapped and Steve fell headfirst into a mountain of beanbags.

"Fuck this," Billy stood, grabbing his paperback from where it lay discarded over ratty green carpet. "Let's go to bed already."

Steve gaped at him. "You don't wanna hear what I have to say?"

"What, you gonna finally admit that you love me, or something?" Billy scrubbed adorably at his eyes, and.

Steve clambered to his feet, noticing for the first time that Billy looked tired, and admiring the way his curls stuck out in every direction like a wad of blonde pipe cleaners. Steve opened his mouth to speak. To preach, but Billy was already hobbling away, sweatpants wedged up his ass.

"Love you too, shithead, 'm fuckin' tired."

Steve wanted to burst into song.

Or burst into tears, but.

The bedroom door slammed shut.

Apparently, scribbling love stories on the backs of takeout menus can funnel into all sorts of practical things. Like kitchens full of new pots and pans, monthly oil changes for Steve's car, and a pantry stocked with individually wrapped protein bars from the organic store across town.

They finally start sleeping in the same room again when Billy lands his first job as a research assistant.

For Steve this means getting to quit his shitty job at Family Video and focus on school, in between guitar lessons and trips to the farmers market.

For Billy, this means spending fifty hours a week in the office of a PhD. that definitely wants to fuck him and focusing only on school.

Forgetting their anniversary in favor of Shakespeare's Life and Work, Masterpieces of World Literature, an Entire course on John Milton's Paradise Lost. Steve forgives him until a lecture series on Folklore has Billy crying every night over the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice.

Asking Steve red-eyed, coffee induced, panicked questions like; "Would you follow me into the underworld?"

So Steve holds him. "Of course I would."

"Even after I missed our anniversary?"

And Steve doesn't have anything to say to that, so.

He goes to bed alone, just like every night, while Billy falls to pieces in the next room.

It's maddening.

The tentative bones of each of Billy's fingers are sure to peek through before graduation. Skin caught between the pages of books, left behind like loose pencil shavings as Billy puts one pad in front of the other, marching on his way to The Great Big Somewhere.

By March, Billy's a shell of a man. Sleeping less than five hours a night, burning through packs of tea candles because he studies under a haze flickering amber, like some sort of medieval poet, and only eating one meal a day if Steve cooks it for him.

And Steve's worried.

Crying on the phone to Joyce. Throwing up in the toilet when Billy passes out at the supermarket. Preparing himself to be a widow at twenty-five.

So.

He decides to say something.

The first time he brings it up Billy pours rice milk into his lap.

The second time he bursts into tears over a stack of files.

So.

Steve decides to put a sock in it.

But then it's April. Spring Break. Steve expects that they'll follow through with their plan to visit Hawkins, but right as their bag is packed to board the train home, Billy insists on staying back to finish his dissertation.

Steve throws his suitcase at the wall. Billy bursts into tears and locks himself in the bedroom. One phone call to Joyce and half a sentence from Hooper proves it; Billy will starve to death if Steve leaves him alone.

So they stay in New York. Cooped up in their massive, empty, hard-earned apartment while Billy writes about love without ever showing it.

Steve thinks about leaving.

Just.

Packing his shit in the middle of the night, sticking a note to the fridge with the magnet Billy had made for their first anniversary, but.

This will pass. That's what Steve keeps telling himself; Billy will have his Masters soon, that precious slice of paper that burned their relationship to the ground, and then they'll move to a house on a lake like Steve's always wanted, and.

Love won't exist between the pages of a book anymore it'll be real. Like first meetings on a high school basketball court, secret kisses at the top of a Farris wheel, Sunday mornings in green meadows.

Love will fall just like it used to.

Bright red across hardwood floors.

The last and final straw comes at 4:45 in the morning.

Billy punches their lamp off the table in his sleep, shouting about the structure of a novel and cutting his knuckles open and that's it.

Steve has, well and truly, had enough.

He tells Billy just as much over a stack of alcohol wipes and a fist that, luckily, doesn't need stitches. Steve tries not to cry, and then tries not to weep, and.

Fails.

When the love of Steve's life falls to his knees and says, "I'm exhausted," and it feels true.

Like red books full of hymnals.

Steve fails when Billy hugs him around the waist and says, "I only ever write about you," and it feels heavy.

Like shattering church windows.

Steve cries and he hates himself. And Billy. And the universe; nuns and religion. Mountains, valentines day cards, bouquets of lilies, and poetry most of all. When his fingers card through fuzzy blonde curls.

Steve tugs his poet closer, and.

Decides to follow him anywhere.

#harringrove #harringrove april #day three #spring break #angst with a happy ending

26 notes · View notes

physicalturian · 4 years

Text

Victory Fuck - Kuroo x F!Reader [NSFW]

TW: slight choking during the sex. (The breathing is ok, it's in the heat of the moment and it's consensual)

Summary : You playfully turn down Kuroo's offer to have sex right after his match. He takes it personally and makes it a competition to see who asks the other to fuck first. It's a horny battle if you will.

[She/her pronouns used for the reader, no physical description; Everyone +18]

Kuroo had won another game. Or at least his team, but some credits went to him. If the victorious grin on his face was anything to go by, he was pretty happy about this victory. Even more so knowing that after most of his wins we’d have a party. I was joining him on the court, as everyone started leaving the bleachers to join the hall; There were a few journalists already there, asking questions to the players, mainly the captain, and I could see he was being polite and answering like he knew he should. But when his eyes met mine, he grinned widely, excusing himself to the interviewer before starting marching towards me. “Babe! We won!” he exclaimed as he undid his jacket and draped it over my shoulders before bringing me closer, his hands on my hips. “I see that, good job.” I told him with a smile.

He stared back at me a moment before pecking my lips softly, “What do I get for winning?” he breathed against my lips, his usual smirk back on his features. From the look he was giving me, I knew full well what he wanted, adding to that the after-game rush of winning. He was feeling something, strongly. “You get to shower, and you get to go get changed, because we have a party after this, and you stink.” I told him with a teasing smile. He only sighed in response, resting his forehead against mine. It was not a sigh of desperation, no, it was more of a resigned one. “Are we playing this game, babe? You really don’t want-“ “Nope, I’ll wait until we’re home. Even though you’re very hot right now,” I emphasized my words by letting my hands wander to his ass, however he quickly grabbed them, a sly grin on his lips. “Now, now, I have to get changed, remember? These cakes will have to wait, and so will you.” I quickly understood what he meant, and I regretted telling him off, the moment I understood. “Come on, I was kidding- you’re not going to be like that, are you? C’mon, after your shower we can-“ “You missed your chance babe, this will be fun.”

He then kissed me before rushing off to the changing room, his stupid laugh echoing in the huge room. I couldn’t believe this. He was going to be petty just for that? I sighed and put on his jacket before leaving the court and waiting in the hall for his pretty face to show.

When I saw him, a smile formed on my lips. I’ve always liked seeing his face right after he showered, his cheeks would always flush from the heat of the water and I loved seeing it. It was hard to make the man blush in the first place, which is why I relished in the after-shower sight. “Alright babe, are we ready to go?” He asked, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “Not the shoulders, I’ll look like a trophy wife.” I scoffed jokingly, moving his hand to my hips, but it was not the smartest decision considering the situation. He quickly gripped my hips tight then he moved his hand to my lower back as we walked to my car. “Don’t you like it when I show you off?” he whispered in my ear as his hand slid to my ass. I was not going to pay it any mind, he said we were playing this game, and I was going to win. I didn’t care if his beautiful large hand was touching me, no, no… So I huffed a laugh, “You’d like it too much, I wouldn’t want to give you the satisfaction to flaunt this,” I then gesture to myself with both my hands before smirking back at him.

His eyes seemed to darken for a moment before his face returned to his usual carefree expression. “You’re being cocky babe. I like it, don’t get me wrong, but you’re not going to win. Continue though, you’ll lose anyway.” His voice was soft, and there was not an ounce of anger behind it. He was genuinely entertained by this, and while his voice did not reflect the weight of his words, I knew. I rolled my eyes at his words and pulled back from him to reach the driver’s side of the car, but right when I pushed away, he slapped my ass, saying that giving him attitude was pointless. I laughed and entered the car as he did. “Hey you started this Tetsurou, I’ll play along. We’ll see how long you’ll last.” I shrugged before fastening my seatbelt and starting the car. We then drove off to his friend’s house as if nothing was happening right now. As if we were not competing to see who’d cave in first. As if there was no competition on who’d crave the other’s touch so much, they’d beg to be touched. And yet, we both knew it was going on, and both of us were dead set on winning. The winning price? Seeing the other beg first.

Funny enough, the moment we reached his friend’s house, he left the car and happily joined his friend, not paying me any mind. It felt off, but I put it on the count of the excitement of seeing his old friends again. Shaking my head, I left the car and trailed a little bit behind, but not losing sight of him; I knew him well enough that he’d mingle so well, he could disappear the minute I’d look away. Hearing my name being called, I looked at the source and saw Bokuto with his arm around Kuroo, while he was waving his other arm in case, I did not see him. “What’s up Bokuto-“ I was cut off by the energetic man who let go of my boyfriend and was now gesticulating. “I can’t believe you’re still with this guy! You still haven’t gotten enough of his provokes? Ouch- oi don’t hit me Kuroo, you know I’m right!” As Bokuto checked where Kuroo had punched him, the black-haired man laughed, “Of course she’s staying, it’s exactly why she’s staying,” he started. I gave him a warning look, feeling like he was going to be spilling too much personal info. When he started talking, our friend looked up from his stomach and looked at us curiously, listening. I was already feeling warmer, he did not need to expose me like this, that bastard.

“She likes it, the taunts, the teasing,” he came up closer, grabbing my chin between his index finger and thumb, “The competition…” his breath was tickling my lips, he was so close to kissing me, to losing too. But as if he read my mind, he pulled back, grinning mischievously, “She’ll definitely be a sore loser by the end of this, because I know exactly what buttons to press.” Our moment was cut short when we heard someone clearing their throat, it was Bokuto who was still standing there awkwardly. “That’s between you guys, really. But uh, do you wanna go inside and play some games? I mean, that’s if you’re like… not too horny and you’re not going to be all over each other- because the tension here,” he pointed at the both of us, “It’s super, super, sexual and I feel like you are going to bang at my house- and you know what, if you do, do it in the guest room- yeah don’t use my room or somewhere else,” Then, after a sharp intake of air, he sighed, “Anyway! Games? Anyone?” I laughed at what he said and gave him a curt nod, ignoring Kuroo’s spilling of info, “Sure, yeah, let’s.” He seemed to light up at that and turned around rapidly to make his way back inside, with Kuroo calling out from behind, “I can’t promise that though- we might just fuck in the toilets if that’s cool with you, bro?”

I couldn’t help but cackle, maybe nervously, at his words. Bokuto, however, seemed unfazed, “I mean, that’s cool bro- just don’t take too long, you know?” Fortunately for me, most people around the house were probably deafened by the loud music, but the few who heard almost hooted. This was the closest thing to a frat party, the only thing saving this was that I could see a few sane people like Tsukishima. Him and a few other friends of Kuroo and I that had a little bit of decency. They were all sitting around the low table in the living-room, ready to do whatever to get drunk. My boyfriend was already there, sitting down surrounded by all types of people, some drunk, some tipsy and some way too sober for that shit. I could see the latter, being Akaashi, with his phone in hand. Hearing my name being called once more, I resumed my walk and joined the couch only to see there wasn’t any more space. Chuckling I stood behind the couch, and placed my hands on Kuroo’s shoulders, tightening my grip as I talked. “Looks like it’ll be without me, unless,” I leaned over and let my hands trail to his neck, grabbing it ever so lightly, “Unless you want me to sit on your lap?” I whispered seductively in his ear.

“I’m good babe, bring in a chair so we can start.” He said off-handedly. I was surprised by his coldness, but saw the weakest smirk on his lips as he tried to keep his facial expression natural. Huffing, I straightened my back and agreed, ignoring the burning in my cheek at the lack of teasing I got in return. Was he playing the ignoring card while I tried to make him cave? That’s no fun, that’s too easy. It did not matter, “Sure, be back in a sec’ guys.” After bringing the chair to the table, we were able to begin the game which is where everything began.

The torture. I believe the entire thing was done on purpose but many things happened. No matter how much I tried to tease him, he wouldn’t return anything. He would almost ignore what I said and change the topic. With that, was the constant show off of everything. The way he’d put his finger between his teeth, not biting, just put it there as he made a thinking face before answering the question. The unbuttoned shirt that showed off his collarbone just, the most sinful way, was also torture. He would also throw himself back against the couch as he laughed, his hand slapping his thighs, they were showed in all their glory in his tight suit pants. And fuck, how he’d run his tongue over his lips then his chin as he licked the beer that spilled from his cup. If it wasn’t enough, he’d use the back of his hand, and fuck was I a sucker for his hands. And him. His beautiful face when he talked excitedly to everyone around him, he was giving them his attention and not me. No, no, I’m not losing, get your thoughts back.

My reverie was interrupted when Yaku called my name, “What do you say? You haven’t said much, are you good?” I looked up and met Kuroo’s face first, he was so self-satisfied at that very moment, I wanted to tear that smirk apart. “Yeah babe, are you good?” He asked in a fake-caring tone, that bastard knew what he was doing. He even rolled up his sleeves, how was I supposed to resist to that? No, get back on track. “I’m good, sorry I was a bit lost in thoughts. Sorry what was the question?” I asked as I tear my gaze away from Kuroo’s, it needed a lot of efforts but I did manage. “Actually, are you really ok? You seem to be hot, maybe you should get some fresh air?” Someone else said, I chuckled nervously and put my cup down on the table before standing up. “Yeah, maybe I’ll do that,” I stated, giving my boyfriend an insistent look before turning around and leaving the room to go on the terrace outside where, strangely, no one was. The moment I felt the cold night breeze hit my face, a shiver ran down my spine and I sighed in relief. That shithead. Running both my hands on my scalp, I left the terrace and made my way to the rattan couch in the garden. While staring at the sky, my heart almost stopped when I heard someone’s steps on the terrace floor, another sigh of relief escaped my lips when I realized it was none other than my boyfriend that was joining me.

I was the first one to talk when he was in front of me, his arms crossed. “First, you’re not playing fair. Second,-“ I couldn’t finish talking when I heard his loud laugh as he crouched in front of me, grinning. “Not fair? Babe, I’m playing to my strength. Didn’t you like the show?” He asked playfully, I only scoffed in response before really answering him. “You know I did- but you deadass rejected me sitting on your lap…” I mumbled, I was not mad, I was even smiling a bit but I wanted to know why he did that. “I had to kitten, you’d have a too strong advantage if you were that close to my dick you know?” he replied as if it all made sense, as if it was all about strategy. There was a short silence, then we both laughed at that. “You’re not wrong I guess, but now I am clearly at disadvantage-“ “Do you mean you’re losing? Of course, you are! I can see how hot and bothered you are babe. You just have to say the words and I’ll fuck you right now.” He said off-handedly, his elbows on his knees since he was still crouching. If I pushed him right now, he’d clearly lose his balance from the stupid position he’s sitting and yet it was so hot. His thighs filling his pants so nicely, and his pretty face so close I could kiss him right now- but no I had to win, right? Unless…

“The words being, let’s make a truce. I’m willing to make a truce, for you-“ another bark laugh echoed while he stood up and towered my sitting form, a prideful smile on his face. “No truce, just ask nicely. I can go on a lot longer than this, you’re already all flushed babe.” He whispered seductively, his hands now on each side of my face to make me look up at him. I hated how hot he looked right now, and fuck he was finally touching me after his petty game. I wanted him to touch me more, I wanted to touch him. Raising my hand, I wanted to touch his chest but he grabbed my hand before I could even graze it. “Are you not listening, brat? Concede first, then I’ll fuck you how you like.” This time I couldn’t ignore the throbbing that was happening between my legs, but I didn’t want to lose. He’d have too much pride in making me cave first. Fuck, fuck, fuck- I mean yeah, fuck that’s what I wanted but…

“Kuroo, come on, please-“ I covered my mouth at the words that escaped it without me even thinking about it, my body was reacting on his own. “Mmh? I didn’t hear anything, I think you need to be clearer- even better, you need to say: I lost, give me your victory fuck Tetsu.” He suggested, as he leaned in closer. I rolled my eyes and said it was stupid, making him continue, “You’re making this a lot more difficult than it is kitten, just say the words and you’ll be screaming in pleasure soon. Just say it, ‘I lost, give me your victory fuck Tetsu’” This time he drawled the words, to make me understand to sentence even more. I did not respond. It made him sigh as he sat down next to me. “Maybe you need a little push babe, come here.” He patted his thighs as he leaned back on the rattan couch, his smirk ever as present. It was tempting, and fuck maybe he’d let it go if I joined him right now? Shuffling on my seat, I followed his suggestion and straddled his lap, placing my hands on his shoulders. “It wasn’t that hard, now was it?” he breathed right next to my ear as he brought me right against his crotch, his hands gripping my ass. I was finally getting some friction and it felt divine, for the littlest quantity I got at least. “Don’t get off already, you’re not getting anything until you say the words.” I scoffed, gripping the back of his hair tightly as I pulled him back. “We’re at a party…” I whispered, as if it was the only thing that’d stop me from going further with this.

With a devilish grin, he huffed, “And that would stop you? I know you want me. I know all of your tells, love. You’re this close to giving in, because I’m winning.” This time his mouth was grazing the skin of my neck as he spoke, the feeling of his breath on my skin making the hair on the nap of my neck, raise. I cocked my head to the side to touch the side of his head with mine, but he moved before I could, making me groan in frustration. “You can be discrete, right?” he asked rhetorically as his hands trailed from my ass to my thighs. I gasped at the feather-like brush of his fingers on my inner thighs, only inches away from my crotch. But at my reaction he stopped once more, humming as he leaned back once more, giving me a once over. “You’re in a pretty bad position for a winner. I wonder how long you can stay like that, like a stubborn, horny slut.” My eyes widened at his words but it sent jolts coursing through my body, I rolled my hips against him in need. He grinned broadly, grabbing my jaw, puckering my lips in his grip. “Say the fucking words babe, and your needy little self will get what she wants.” He was getting impatient. I could see it and feel it, he wanted this as much as I wanted it, maybe I could still win, if I played my cards right.

I chuckled and put my hands on his pants zipper, “I think you’re also fucking needy, isn’t it tight in there?” His hands were quick to grab mine, a breathless laugh escaping his mouth. “There, there, you’re getting ahead of yourself. Let me remind you who’s the needy one,” holding my hips, he rolled them onto his bulge, making both of us scoff breathlessly. Then I was the one to gasp when his hand slid under my shirt, his nails ever so lightly scraping my back making me arch it in surprise. “Alright- stop that it’s cheating.” “Oh, is it? My bad. No touching you, is that right?” I hated the tone he was using, it was mocking, it had an underlying meaning to it, but I nodded, feeling a slight disappointment when he moved his hand from my back. “But I can do this, right?” he asked, unzipping his pants and sliding his hand inside his boxer as he looked at me with a smirk. I stood there, mouth agape. Was he really planning on getting off right there, without fucking me? “Tetsu.” I said in a warning tone, letting my eyes trail from his lower parts to his face.

“It’s not cheating, babe. You’ll have to say the words soon, or I’ll just finish this off first-“ I grabbed his hand to stop him from moving, and he reacted just as fast with his other hand to my throat. It wasn’t too tight, but it was just enough to make me understand to stop fucking around, and at the same time it made my throbbing a lot stronger. “No fucking touching. I knew you were a slut, needy for my cock but you give in first.” He breathed seductively, his hold on my neck tightening just slightly. Looking at me dead in the eyes, he smiled, almost reassuringly, uttering my name under his breath, “Say it for me.” I frowned, looking at his lips as he mouthed the words and I followed, “I lost,” I almost spat, looking at his glimmering eyes, “Give me your victory fuck,” I finished, looking off to the side. I heard him tsk as he made me face him, “Who? Whose victory fuck is this? Mm? Again babe,” he made a gesture with his hand as if he was rewinding. He then let go of my neck and grabbed my jaw once more, I sighed, my face heating up by the second. “I lost. Give me your victory fuck, Tetsu.” I could barely hear myself, but it was enough for him.

With a heavy sigh he smiled, “See! It wasn’t that bad, right? Come on, remove what’s in the way babe.” He pulled at the hem of my pants, before letting me stand up. I took off my pants, underwear and shoes, before carefully wrapping his jacket around my waist and sitting back on his lap. There was a pout on his face when he saw the jacket on my ass, “Aww, you don’t want to let everyone enjoy the view of your ass?” Rolling my eyes, I grabbed his hair and angled his face so that he was looking up at me as I straddled his lap. “I didn’t peg you as someone who’d share-“ “And you’re fucking right,” he grabbed my chin roughly then kissed me with just as much passion, “Because you’re mine, and I get to do what I please with you.” He explained, breathless. When he started placing open mouth kisses on my neck, nipping my skin here and there, I grinded against him to get myself going, to get any kind of friction. In the heat of the moment, I slide one finger inside myself but got stopped the moment it brushed my sensitive spot.

Opening my eyes suddenly, I gave my boyfriend a look of disbelief. “What-“ “No touching unless you beg for it, ask nicely.” He said as he pressed gentle kisses on my neck, then down to my collarbone, his tongue brushing slowly against my skin before he started sucking it; One of his hand was still holding mine, while the other was gripping my waist tight. “Kuroo- are you kidding me?” Stopping his activities, he looked up at me lustfully, his surprised face turning into a more serious one. “Do I look like I’m kidding?” “I hate it when you do that, just let me-“ I couldn’t help the gasp that escaped my lips when his finger entered me, “I said beg, you can do that for me right? I know you want more of this, because you’re my needy slut, right?” His unoccupied hand was now grabbing his cock as he started stroking himself to the view while I rocked my hips against his finger, trying to feel more. I begged him for more, I begged him to add fingers, to fuck me right but he did not move. Instead he slowed down, his smirk widening. “Fuck’s sake- don’t fuck around, I did what you wanted-“ “I won’t fuck around, I’ll fuck you babe but I want you tight for me.”

He removed his finger to pull out his wallet and grab a condom, while he opened the packed and rolled it on his cock, I slid two fingers inside my throbbing core; Curling them how I liked it while brushing my thumb over my sensitive nub, my head was resting against his shoulder as I kept moving, working hard to get closer to relief. It made him huff to see me pleasuring myself so he grabbed my wrist to stop me, he slowly brought my fingers to his mouth as he ran his tongue over it, getting them clean. “Did I not say to beg? Come on-“ Wanting to feel him, I did not need to be told twice, so I leaned in and whispered in his ear, “Fuck me, please,” he groaned at the sensation of my breath against his skin but only laughed shortly, a strained laugh, but he managed to say, “I’m sure you can do better kitten, beg like I know you can.” I hated it, but I loved it. It was embarrassing, humiliating, but hot. He was an asshole, but the best. I continue to whisper what he wanted to hear, throwing my pride aside even though it hurt to do so. I started peppering his jaw with kisses, then his neck, and it’s when I started attacking his neck that he let out another strained chuckled and he told me that he needed me.

Lifting me up slightly with his hands under my thighs, he helped me onto his cock, my knees supporting me on each side of him as I slowly eased myself on his erected member. We were both breathing erratically at the feeling of one another, my hands were gripping his shirt as I focused on the stinging pain but it slowly faded away once he was fully sheathed and not moving. We waited like that a moment, our breaths mixing as our forehead were touching. The tenderness was interrupted when someone called out our names from the terrace, and I was about to get off of him when he put his hands on my back and kept me there. “Put your head on my shoulder, trust me.” He whispered hurriedly; I followed his direction as he called back asking what they wanted. The person asked if everything was okay, and as the good liar he was, Tetsurou said, “We’re coming soon, she’s just a bit on edge. Give us like 20 minutes, we’ll come back!” The person seemed to be satisfied with that answer and left without any more question, leaving us on our own once more

“They’re gone, you can fuck yourself on my cock now.” He said cockily. I looked up at him in half-shock, but rolled my hips once, twice, and stopped, giving him a smirk. He was watching intently my actions and looked up in frustration when I stopped. “Oh, no. If you’re going to act like that, I have no choice but fuck the brattiness out of you, babe. You don’t fucking tease me, I tease you.” Then without a warning he grabbed me by the waist and started lifting me up to meet his thrusts, he was hitting the bottom each time, lifting me high enough so that only the tip of his cock was inside me before thrusting it back in without ever stopping. He wasn’t slowing down either, just fucking me, and the only balance I had was my hands on his shoulders but at some point, I followed his instructions and actually started fucking myself on his cock. We were both panting, grunting and moaning wordlessly, mouths open and heat surrounding the both of us.

When he let go of my waist, I kept riding him, hoping to reach an orgasm, and while I was close it was not enough. I needed more stimulation, so with all I could muster I uttered, “More, touch.” He seemed to understand where I was coming from and nodded eagerly, his smile ever so present as he paid extra attention to my clit. I let my head fall back, arching my back at the added stimulation. I quickly covered my mouth when a louder moan escaped my mouth. “There it is, that’s it babe scream for me. I’m close too- here let me,” Without a warning he helped me onto my back and started fucking me roughly, grunting at each thrust. He liked it better when he could just put my leg over his shoulder and fuck me senseless, and so did I. I desperately gripped his biceps while my free hand was playing with my clit, bringing me closer and closer to release. Opening my eyes, I had not realized I had closed, I smiled although I believe it did not look like much with the elation I was feeling, my mouth opening every time he’d thrust back inside me.

“You’re so hot right now-“ my voice went in a higher pitch when I felt him hit the right spot and a loud moan ripped my throat. Realizing what he was going, he smirked before repeating exactly the same action, “If you could see yourself right now, so pretty for me. You feel so good, doesn’t it feel good to lose, babe?” He was out of breath as he said so, but it made me feel so hot suddenly. Maybe it was the reminder of having lost his stupid game but I did not have time to overthink that I saw white, my head lolling back as I arched my back into him once more, a throaty moan escaping me one final time. With a few more thrusts, he found his release too before pulling out of me with a slick noise. I felt my back a bit sore from the sudden change when he slammed me back on the bench, and my thighs too from the position he fucked me in but other than that, I felt great. So fucking great. Lifting my arm, I heard my boyfriend chuckled as he helped me sit up, a proud grin on his face. “That good, uh?”

I rolled my eyes, asking him to hand me my clothes back, which he did without hesitation. “We should probably hurry up, we took more than 20 minutes.” He said softly as he zipped his pants back, asking me to give him a tissue from his jacket pocket. Once I finished putting on my shoes, I patted the pockets and handed it to him, only to see him dropped the closed used condom in it. I couldn’t help but laugh at the though of him, having that condom in a tissue, probably in his pocket, until he found the trash inside. “Hey, don’t laugh babe, I do what I can. I respect my bro enough to not just throw that like that you know?” He said in a joking tone as he stood up, I followed and took his hand in mine, smiling. “So, do we still get to have another victory fuck when we get home or...” I pondered out loud, wanting more of him but willing to wait until we got home. “Baaabe,” he drawled, looking at me with fake shock, “Did you read my mind?” chuckling, he leaned in and kissed me longingly, “Of course there will be another round, this was like- an amuse-bouche, you know? I’ll fuck you right once we’re home, promised.” I loved how he could say things like that so lightly, it made me smile like an idiot for some reason.

Walking back to the house, he whispered right before we got in, “And if you’re good, I’ll edge you just right babe.” I almost choked on my saliva as Kuroo walked to the kitchen to throw his tissue before coming back. When Bokuto saw us enter the living room he rushed to our side, “Guys! What happened? Is everything alright-“ he stopped himself and gave us a look. A long look. A knowing look. Then he looked at my boyfriend. “Bro, I said ok for the toilets. It better-“ Interrupting him, Kuroo scoffed, smiling, “It’s clean bro, I’m not sloppy don’t worry. And I’m not guilty, not really, I said I couldn’t promise shit. And she was impatient for me to fuck her pretty little-“ “Alriiight, games? Anyone? Bit of fun? Party people, let’s get some drinks.” I said before leaving the two friends and joining the other at the table.

I couldn’t handle him talking so freely about our sex life, but I couldn’t blame him considering they were best friends. And that’s why I had to leave them on their own when those time came. This was the cons of dating a man that was ready to expose your deepest kinks just to tease.

But fuck was it a good teasing though. And was the fuck good too.

#Kuroo Tetsurou #kuroo testuro #Kuroo Tetsurō #kuroo x reader #haikyu x reader #kuroo x female reader

75 notes · View notes

jstlikemagic · 4 years

Text

One Night Chance. - Jeff Wittek Imagine

Title: One Night Chance.

Pairings: Jeff Wittek/Reader

Rating: R (For swears tho)

Summary: Being friends with benefits has always been fun but what about when two makes three? Also, what are the chances Y/N goes into labor at Jeff’s stand-up show?

TW: Drugs and alcohol (both lightly mentioned)

A/N: Hi y’all! Ya girl is BACK AGAIN!!! This time I have a “pre-sober” Jeff imagine! I decided to write this because I really wanted to write something pregnancy-related, a little bit of a comedy, and also something serious. If you liked this, please reblog/like! Thank you!

MY MASTERLIST

Taking a good look around Jeff’s dressing room, you started having flashbacks about what life was like eight months ago. The patron that was spilt on the carpet, reminded you of all times you and the guys would get fucked up at David’s house parties. The keef residue that was left on the table, reminded you of when you’d just be chilling in the living room with a bong in your hand, thinking life couldn’t get any better. You were so happy with your lifestyle and how much fun you’d been having. Soon enough though, life took a turn.

-Eight Months Ago-

The past few weeks had been rough. You were so tired that you almost fell asleep in the car a few times. You were so hungry, that Postmates was your new best friend. The toilet was your new home since you’d been puking and pissing a lot recently. Feeling uneasy one day and puking up a delicious breakfast burrito, you had that feeling.

Forcing yourself up from the bathroom floor, you grabbed your car keys and busted out of your apartment. Jumping into your car, you floored it to the nearest convenience store. After you parked your car, you speed walked into the store due to your heightened anxiety. As you walked down the aisles, you finally spotted the women’s health aisle. Pregnancy tests. Pregnancy tests. Where would those be. A lightbulb shot up in your head once you spotted the array of pee sticks. Shaky hands reached for the Clear Blue pregnancy tests, grabbing eight “just in case.” Going up to the counter, you hurriedly placed the tests on the counter. “Aw, sweetie. I see the anticipation. Have you been trying?” said the counter employee.

“Yes, I’m very much anticipating a little shit that’s gonna run my money dry and ruin my life,” you sarcastically said. With the employee looking shocked as hell and you already handing the cash over, you decided it was best to just leave as fast as possible. Taking the bag, you gave one of those bitchy smiles and said “have a nice day.” Fucking bitch.

Flooring it home, you nearly sprinted into your bathroom. Making sure you could provide for eight samples, you drank at least three bottles of water. After providing for each sample, you left each test on the sink counter.

You weren’t going to cry but god damn, what if you were actually pregnant… with Jeff’s baby. The two of you were only friends, who fooled around occasionally. Backtracking to how possible it could be, you started freaking yourself out even more. Jeff had been fucking you for at least three months straight so that’d be very possible. Plus, you both relied on the “reliable” pull out method.

Creeping back into the bathroom seven out of the eight tests looked like they were done. With both ends on the edge of the counter, your head slowly drooped down to look at the sticks. Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant. Not Pregnant, oh I like this one. Pregnant. Suddenly, you saw the last test blinking which meant it was about to read the result. Every last bit of you wanted it to say not pregnant but it didn’t even matter at this point. Still keeping hope alive, you lifted the stick up to your face. Pregnant.

Well, the next obstacle was telling Jeff you were having his baby.

-One Week Later-

“Hey Y/N. What’s up?” His voice alone could make your heart flutter. Reconsidering if a phone call was how you wanted to do this, you erased the consideration out of your head and proceeded with the phone call. It was easier anyways, you wouldn’t be able to see the shock and disappointment on his face.

“So, I have some big news. I mean I guess not big news, small news as of now that will get bigger eventually,” you spoke really fast.

“Did ya get the job ya wanted? I know you’re only a secretary but you’ll work your way up and life will be great!” he exclaimed.

Trying not to be salty because you didn’t get the job he was talking about, you laughed it off. “I, uh-, didn’t get the job. I actually have some other news that involves you. I’m pregnant and it’s very much yours,” you blurted It out. Without hearing his response, you felt a huge weight just fall off your shoulders. Hearing a sigh come from the other end of the phone, it was soon followed by empty moments of silence.

“Are ya sure? Like are you sure that you’re pregnant? And are ya sure that you want this? Y/N, we’re in our 20s. We’re living it up and living our best lives.”

“Jeff, I am 100% pregnant. I’ll mail you out all the sticks I pissed on. You can have all water bottles I used too.” Taking a moment to think of his last question, you started to feel hot tears roll down your cheek. “I think I want this. This could be my wakeup call to cut the shit. This is my endgame... Actually, of course I want this. I think what I want to know is, do you want this? I’ll do this with or without-“

“Yes, I want this. I want you. I want this baby. I just wanted to put the ball in your court because it is your body, your choice. The idea of having a baby right now is a little frightening but maybe I need this wakeup call too. Ya know we do stupid shit. I wanna have someone to wanna come home to. I wanna have someone pop in my head every time I see ten shots lined up for me and it makes me not want to do it. With that being said. I’m down if you’re down,” he interrupted. Feeling so overwhelmed by his support and letting you have this decision just made you burst into tears.

-Eight Months Later-

Getting up to go the bathroom, which felt like the millionth time today, Jeff grabbed your hand to help lift you off that comfortable couch. “I got this,” you agitatedly said. Being almost nine months pregnant, you hated everything. You either puked or pissed yourself. The smell of certain food would throw you over the edge. Moving around got harder because your huge belly that got in the way. You also partially resented Jeff because he shot his sperm up inside of you. He was really good dealing with your mood swings though. He knew when to give you space and is very assuring about everything you do.

Walking into the bathroom, you lifted your dress up and pulled your underwear down so fast, just to make sure you didn’t piss your pants. Immediately sitting on the toilet, you could feel some pressure in your uterus from the sudden and fast movements. Placing one hand on your stomach, you said “I’m sorry, baby. Mommy’s just making sure she doesn’t spring a leak on this god-awful linoleum floor. But I just want to let you know, that you need to get the fuck out of me.” Your voice got louder every word in your last sentiment.

“Is everything okay in there?” Jeff hollered from the other side of the dressing room.

“Yes, and please shut the fuck up. I’m concentrating!” you screamed back while rolling your eyes. Sitting on the toilet, you suddenly felt a huge wave of liquid pass through you. Knowing you didn’t put any pressure like you were pissing, your first instinct was to get up and look in the toilet. You immediately wiped yourself and threw that in the toilet. Spotting a little bit of blood and few solid pieces which resembled skin, you knew it was time. The time. Feeling a wave of panic and anxiety, you flushed the toilet, washed your hands, and called Jeff over to the front of the bathroom door. With a smile on his face, he dutifully walked towards you.

“What’s up, baby? Is everything okay? Is the baby okay?” he started questioning you. He could tell from the look on your face that something was happening.

“Okay, so don’t panic. That’s my first rule okay,” you whispered, making sure no one else was going to hear the next thing. “I believe that I’m in labor but like not too sure. But I think I am.” Seeing Jeff’s eyes go wide, you immediately covered his mouth with your hand. “Don’t you fucking say anything. Help me get in the tour bus and figure this out.” Threatening him wasn’t a part of the plan and you had to do what was necessary so no one else in the room heightened the panic.

Jeff took your hand and led you through what felt like endless rooms to the cool outside. While passing by people, you painted a smile on your face. The last thing you wanted was for someone to tweet that you were in labor. This whole pregnancy, you had been scared if any information would leak. Such as if the hospital was leaked and people put two-and-two together, that fans would show up. Finally reaching the bus, he grabbed both of your hands and walked you up the bus. You went to sit down onto the couch but instantly felt a contraction. People weren’t kidding when they said contractions were a bitch. As the contraction passed through your body, you finally sat yourself down with him right next to you.

“Not to be an insensitive asshole but I also have a show in like thirty minutes but we’re also having a baby! I’m gonna look up online how to stop labor for a little bit, just to buy us time.” Never have you ever shot him such a nasty ass look. You didn’t give a flying fuck about his show, you had a baby who just received their eviction notice.

“No! You can’t just web it the fuck up and expect it to stop!” you screamed. Out of everything he could’ve said during this stressful time, he decided to say that. Feeling another contraction, you threw your head backed and moaned at the pain. Looking at Jeff, you both just knew you two were in for one hell of a night, maybe even days. If there’s one thing you two understood was that you agreed on this together and knew you two have to work together to get this baby out.

#jeff wittek #jeff wittek imagines #jeff wittek blurbs #vlog squad imagines

130 notes · View notes

imaginethebeautifulworld · 4 years

Note

wait my i request north italy bf headcannons? (If not requested before) thank you!!💞

Hello, lovely~ I’ve not actually had any boyfriend headcanons requested for Feliciano before, so here are a few I’ve put together:

Veneziano:

He doesn’t really consider what you have as “dating;” Feli intends to court you. Dates are casual, happen only once or twice with no serious commitments in mind. But if you genuinely want to make this relationship a long term thing? He’s treating it as a courtship, simple as that.

He loves to surprise you with homemade treats, slipping dolcini into your fridge when you’re not looking, bringing extra biscotti along for long car rides. Most of the time he plays innocent… Most of the time.

He took his time leading up to the first kiss, waiting for the ideal moment, asking with little more than a whisper.

He can be a bit disorganized when it comes to his living quarters, and it’s not completely uncommon for one of you (usually him) to trip over his wayward shoes or the blankets he only half tossed back on the bed in the mornings.

Ironically, his kitchen and his small library are immaculate. He absolutely washes the dishes while also cooking or baking, limiting the amount of clean-up he has to deal with later.

He prefers going on cultural dates, especially when it’s in a place he’s never been before. Most of the time though, he likes to wander old galleries, find small concerts, and visit the little pop-up market stalls in the piazze. If you’re feeling a bit more laid-back, he’s also always down for a lazy day in, sharing the couch and watching whatever catches your interest.

He’s very tactile, and lives for holding your hand, sharing the same side of a table, wrapping his arm around you; really Felice looks for any excuse to be touching you, really half oblivious to it at times.

He has a whole sketchbook filled with drawings of you- mostly detailing of your hands or hair, many attempts on getting the ridges of your lips just right. He keeps that one hidden away from you; he won’t let you see it until he’s captured even an nth of your perfection.

He absolutely loves going shopping with you, whether it’s for clothes or electronics or toilet bowl cleaner. He sees it as a chance to spend more time with you, and also get a better idea of your tastes and interests.

It also gives him a chance to watch you window shop, and plot out some more gifts to grab you later on.

He has days where he’s slightly more subdued, and you’ll usually find him in his study, staring listlessly out across the Adriatic. You’ve learnt that the best way to get him to come back to you is to hug him from behind, give him a gentle tether back to the present.

He really doesn’t like talking about the past with you. Fonder memories with Kiku, Ludvig, and even Francis sometimes will come up in conversation, but he never talks much about the darker parts. He’d rather you know him as the person he is as opposed to the person he was.

You’ve never seen him get jealous, and that is intentional. He’s still nervous about letting you see just how dependent he’s become on your being in his life, still hasn’t quite mustered up the courage to tell just how deeply he’s fallen for you.

It was vital to him that he met your family and closest friends early on in the relationship, and vice versa. Family is a priority, and making sure that your loved ones knew his intentions from the get-go was almost essential. On the other end of the spectrum, Lovino and Marcello are so interwoven with his daily life now that not introducing you right away would have earned him all kinds of hell.

It’s not enough for him to simply bake you goodies here and there; he made sure to learn which ones are your favorites so he can make you a personalized recipe box. Hopefully sometime soon, he can present it to you as part of your wedding present.

He will get random bursts of playful energy, and will follow through on childish whims like jumping in puddles or finding an empty playground and playing on the equipment. At this point, you’ve learnt to either just go along with his antics, or stand in the background suffering secondhand embarrassment.

He’s actually an early riser, always trying to wake up with the sun. He likes the quiet of the morning, and he’ll always have fresh espresso waiting for you to doctor up when you finally join him in the conservatory.

Thanks for the ask, Anon!

68 notes · View notes

justjessame · 3 years

Text

Starting Over Chapter 39

I woke up wrapped in the security of Bucky’s arms - and wearing my nightclothes which I have to admit took a few extra beats to catch up to remembering the cause - but his lips were on mine and it didn’t matter why. Nightclothes, late nights, even gunshot victims sleeping their pain meds off on our couch didn’t matter - not when Bucky was kissing me awake.

“Brooke!,” the tiny voice that called my name had both mine and Bucky’s eyes snapping open and widening. “Buck kissed you up like Rora in Sleepin’ Beauty.” And then a round of toddler giggles that had both of us pulling away with what I had to think was a silent prayer of gratitude for our fucking nightclothes.

There, with her tiny chin propped on Bucky’s side of our bed and her dark eyes staring up at us, was Bryn. And now that we were WIDE awake, I could hear voices downstairs - and if I wasn’t completely fucking insane - I was hearing MORE than just Connie and Sharon’s.

While I kept Bryn occupied, Bucky slid out of my side of the bed. A three year old does NOT need to see what Bucky Barnes is packing early in the morning, trust me. I pulled her up into the bed with me and grabbed the remote to the TV.

“What do you want to watch?” After putting it on her favorite early morning cartoon, I settled back against the headboard and smiled when I realized that Byrn had compared Bucky to a prince. “Bryn?” She hummed and I slid my fingers through her loose curls. “What’s the prince’s name in Sleeping Beauty?”

“Phillip.” It didn’t come from Bryn. It came from the doorway and a very masculine voice. I glanced over to where Bucky stood, fully dressed now and I grinned with a raised eyebrow. “What? She told me while we were talking about her dolls and our tea party.”

I nodded and he came over to join us. “Did you do any recon?” He snorted. “What would you call it? Super sneaky Winter Soldier ninja snooping?”

Shaking his head, he kissed me again. “I did.” He sighed. “Sam, Chris, Carrie, Connie, and Sharon.” I knew my eyes were wide enough to be in threat of falling out of my head, but for fuck’s sake. “Come on, Bryn,” he held out his arms and she hopped up and jumped into them. “Let’s go downstairs and see if we can get some breakfast ready for Brooke while she gets ready for the day.”

I contemplated staying in bed. Our house had been invaded - and while I’d sworn that I’d answer my phone and door, I hadn’t been given the OPTION of answering - they’d just barged right the fuck in. Giving myself about five minutes to stew and wallow, I finally rolled out of bed and grabbed some clothes to toss on. A stop in the bathroom to brush my hair and my teeth and then downstairs to meet the invaders.

They were in the kitchen - ALL of them. Gathered around the table and island, watching as Bucky worked on another omelet - omelets I corrected as I came in and moved closer to him. Sam was drinking coffee, and I almost asked where he’d gotten it since he was drinking out of one of my mugs, but then I noticed that someone had started up my parents’ coffee maker. I hadn’t tossed it out, of course I also didn’t buy coffee for it - Connie shook her head and nodded toward the bags of groceries that she’d clearly put away before we woke up.

“Morning,” I greeted our guests, “everyone.” Started strong, but the landing left something to be desired. “To what do we owe this -”

“Well,” Connie came over and wrapped her arm around my neck. “I knew that you probably hadn’t had a chance to go shopping for groceries since you got back.” Whispering very quietly in my ear that she knew exactly WHY I hadn’t and she APPROVED of why. “I thought I’d do a run while Bryn and I were out -”

“We saw how much she grabbed and -” Chris volunteered, grins growing. Such good samaritans and great friends. “We couldn’t let her struggle. She had her own stuff, yours, AND Bryn.”

Carried piped up, “we stopped by her house and dropped hers off first. When we got here, Sam had just arrived.” She was beaming - and why not? She just met the new Captain America, after all.

“Since I have a key for emergencies,” Connie finished the tale with a shrug.

I nodded. “You have a key for emergencies and groceries are an emergency.” Bucky’s shoulders were shaking, and I knew he was enjoying this shit immensely. “And letting Captain America in - I mean, I’m sure he made it sound like it was an emergency.”

Sam was taking a drink when I said it and he snorted, spewing coffee just a bit. “Don’t make it sound like I was being all sneaky or something, Brooke.” He sputtered.

I raised an eyebrow and reached for one of my tea towels. Tossing it to him, I waited while he cleaned up. “It’s broad daylight, I highly doubt you were being sneaky, Sam.” He nodded. “So?”

“So?” Confusion glowed on his face.

“The reason for your visit?”

“Ah,” I shook my head as realization dawned on his face. “Sarah -” shit the print, but he went on. “She and I wanted to invite you and Bucky to a celebration back home.”

They were planning on a huge party in Delacroix - and for good reason - hometown boy makes VERY good. And now that they weren’t selling the boat, or house, I could see why they’d want to have a party. Bucky glanced at me over his shoulder, wanting my input on whether we should go or not, but in this instance the ball was in his court.

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed, plating our breakfast - for all eight of us - and lining them up on the island for us to carry into the dining room. “We’ll drive down.”

“Drive?” Sam was curious, carrying his plate and refilled cup of coffee into the dining room. “Renting a car instead of flying?”

We settled around the table and I shook my head when Bucky moved to sit at one of the sides. “Head, Bucky.” His eyes went wide, but I stood firm. OUR house, and he was the man of it. Everyone waited to tuck in until he sat, and then I took my seat. “Yes, drive, Sam.” I smiled across the table at Bucky, who was staring at me like he was amazed by me again. “We like to take our time - Bucky and me.” That got a few chuckles, but then everyone took a bite of their food and suddenly no one was laughing - because once again they were surprised by Bucky Barnes.

Our guests didn’t stay too long. Bryn understood that it wasn’t the day for our tea party, since she hadn’t brought along any princesses for it. I watched as Bucky got down on his knee to have a long conversation with her - privately, they told the rest of us, and I smiled when she hugged him tight at the end of it.

“I think Bucky has a fan,” Sam was beside me, watching Bryn with Bucky. “Seeing him like this -”

I felt my smile growing. I loved hearing anyone’s tone change to reflect them seeing him in a new light. “You think this is the Bucky that Steve knew, don’t you?” He hummed an affirmative. “It is,” I bit my lip as Buck turned, his gaze meeting mine. “He’s always been there, Sam. Just took him a little longer to surface than he expected.” Bucky came closer to include me in Bryn’s goodbye hug, and got me to promise her that sleepover too, despite my misgivings. A kiss to her soft cheek and she was handed off to Connie.

“We’ll let you two get back to -” I rolled my eyes as Connie waggled her eyes in her attempt at being suggestive. “Bye, Brookie.” She was grinning when she gave Bucky his own parting, then Chris and Carrie gave us a less gregarious, but no less friendly goodbye, leaving just Sharon and Sam behind.

“And then there were two,” I murmured, getting a chuckle from Bucky, coupled with a soft sigh.

“I heard that,” Sam offered, carrying a stack of dirty dishes to the kitchen and shooting Sharon a dirty look when she hissed while she tried to grab some to help. “Sit your wounded ass down.”

She glared at him, but with a hand on her side, complied. “Hey,” I got her attention and tilted my head toward the hall bathroom. “Want me to have a peek at your bandage?”

“Do you have -” she bit her lip, and I nearly laughed at her conundrum. Does she insult me by asking if I have first aid experience after I gave her clothing and a roof over her head or does she humor me?

“I took some classes,” I assured her. “My parents liked to make sure all the bases were covered.” Helping her carefully to her feet, I got her to the bathroom where one of the many family first aid kits lived. Opening it up and setting it on the countertop, I saw her eyes widen. “I told you - my parents liked to keep the bases covered.” Our first aid kits weren’t something you bought at a local pharmacy or online. “Mom was an RN,” I gestured for her to take her place on the toilet seat again. “She made sure to keep me up to date on my safety classes.” Every CPR class, first aid requirement, and anything else she imagined a layperson might need - she signed me up for. I helped Sharon with the loose shirt Bucky had grabbed out of my drawer, and smiled at the wrapping the ER had put on her wound. “Good news,” I bent down and took a closer look. “You haven’t started bleeding through the packing and wraps, so I don’t have to rewrap you.” She sighed and I chuckled. “Damn it,” I glanced up to see her looking down at me wearily. “I kind of hoped to use you for practice.”

She shook her head and a tiny smile threatened to creep onto her lips. “It hurts like hell though.” She started to pull the shirt back into place. “Gonna make getting back on the road a trial,” I was just opening my mouth to tell her she didn’t have to rush when she stopped me. “Thank you, Brooke, for your and Bucky’s generosity and hospitality, but trust me, I should go - and soon.”

I nodded, standing up to help her to her feet. She was taller than me, just like every other person in my life. “Take my number,” I watched as she pulled a phone from her pocket and I rattled off the number while she tapped it into the contacts. “If you need me or us -”

“Thank you,” she smiled, a small one, but I thought it might be genuine. “Steve would have liked you.”

“So I’ve heard,” I shook my head and put the first aid kit away. “Do you need another change of clothes?” Sharon wouldn’t hear of taking more from me, and insisted that she had a car coming to take her away. “If you’re sure -”

“I am.” We left the bathroom to the sounds of Bucky and Sam in the kitchen, soft music not hiding the sounds of them bickering over how to fill the dishwasher. “You’re going to have your hands full.”

“Yeah, I do,” I agreed, shaking my head as I listened to the two of them, their back and forth, and thinking that they sounded more and more like brothers. “I think they’re getting more -”

“Partners,” Sharon nodded. “They’re a team now.”

“Scary.” I heard a soft knock on the door and Bucky’s head appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room. “I think -”

“It’s for me,” Sharon offered, hand back on her wound. “Time for me to go.”

“You sure?” It was Sam who asked, coming up on Bucky’s left, arms crossed over his chest. “You could stay, I could always -”

“I think you’re making enough waves, Cap.” I bit my lip at Sharon using the nickname so soon. “I can wait for my pardon.” She was moving toward the living room, with me behind her in case she stumbled. “I’ll just grab my small pile of stuff and be out of your way.” She grabbed her clothes - the ones she’d changed out of and turned to find me waiting at a close distance. “Hovering? That’s a very Steve Rogers trait, Brooke.” I rolled my eyes. “I’ll be fine,” she assured me, moving her hand from the bandaged side and sighing. “Keep those two out of trouble.”

“Yeah, right.” I muttered, opening my arms, thinking what the hell - a hug was warranted. She allowed it, awkward though it was. “Stay safe, Sharon.”

“I’ll try.” She murmured. “You too, ok?”

I nodded and then she pulled away. I busied myself with the living room while she said her goodbyes to Sam and Bucky, thinking that less was more in the case of Sharon Carter leaving our house. I had just folded up the blanket and put it with the pillow when I heard the front door open and close.

“And then there was one,” Bucky murmured, wrapping his arms around me. “What do you think the chances are that Sam goes home to prepare for the celebration and lets us follow behind?”

“Slim and none,” Sam offered, leaning against the archway between the living room and the entryway. “Sarah doesn’t need me to plan a party, and I have a couple loose ends to tie up here in NYC, so -”

“Don’t put away the blanket and pillow, Brooke,” Bucky kissed my cheek. “The couch has a new guest.”

#bucky barnes/oc #the falcon and the winter soldier #alternate universe #mention of smut #fluff #Family Fluff #FLUFF AND SMUT #humor

5 notes · View notes

crime-she-wrote · 4 years

Text

The murder of Valentina Fonseca: an update

Hello and welcome back to the Crime She Wrote blog!

First off, I’d like to apologize for the delay in delivering this post. The information presented here has been out for about three weeks and although I’ve had this written for a while there has been internet connection issues preventing me from actually posting. But now it’s all back to normal so here’s what you came here for!

If you’re unaware of the main details of this case or haven’t heard about it at all, you can read my first post here.

Since his arrest, more information about Sandro’s confession of Valentina’s murder was revealed; according to the girl’s father, he tortured the her by dipping her feet and legs in boiling water (which not only is horrible in itself, but the reason why he chose boiling water was because as a toddler Valentina had an accident with water and developed a fear of it), and hitting her trying to force her into confessing to have being sexually abused by one of her mother’s friends. Along with it, he tried to suffocate her with his own hands, but Valentina’s passing was caused by one strong hit to her head, allegedly a slap, that led to an internal hemorrhage that caused a seven minute long convulsion and, consequently, her death. Sandro laid Valentina on the couch, covering her with a blanket, and told the other children in the house that the girl had a stomachache and was resting. According to the known timeline, her death occurred in the morning and her dead body would lay in that couch until late at night.

It’s unclear if Marcia was at home as Valentina was being violently tortured, since there are contradicting information: some sources claim she was at home the whole time, other sources say she only arrived home after the girl was already dead. But according to the first version of events, as the torturing happened, Marcia would have ignored every call for help, and would only approached the child during and after the convulsion to make sure she was still alive and breathing.

It’s also still unclear if the murder was a premeditated act or an “accidental side effect” of the physical abuse, but we do know that hiding the body was premeditated. At 10pm on the 6th of May, footage of a gas station security camera caught Marcia driving the family car, with Sandro sitting next to her, and presumably Valentina’s already dead body on the back seat, in direction to Serra D’El Rei, where her body was found four days later. Since the autopsy reports her time of death in the morning, an entire afternoon was spent planning how to dispose of the body.

According to their version of events, once they reached the destination, Sandro left the car with Valentina’s body and Marcia drove back to town. During this time, she had time to call the authorities about what was happening, in the case of her being coerced and threatened to comply, but she didn’t, which leads the police to doubt her claim of not being apart of killing the girl.

During these past weeks, Valentina’s former stepfather, a 42 year old man named Nelson, reached the media to claim there was evidence of abuse and negligence at the child’s father’s house. Nelson, who lived with Valentina’s mother until the girl was 6 years old, claims that the few times Valentina went to her father’s house she always came back bruised and with lice and fleas. He says Valentina was like a daughter to him, which led him to tattoo her name on his arm when they still lived together, and says he doesn’t understand why and how Sonia, her mother, would send her away to her father’s house for two months knowing all the abuse history.

Following this, the Child Protection Services team that evaluated the family and closed their case by writing on their report that there was no sign of negligence or any other kind of abuse, back in 2019 when Valentina ran away from her father’s house where she was staying during Easter break, is under investigation for failing to note the signs of an abusive home.

Five days after his arrest, on the 15th of May, Sandro was admitted to the hospital following a suicide attempt. Even though his cell was cleared of every object that could have been used to attempt against his life (considering he was a high profile suicide risk prisoner due to the nature of the crime), he still managed to break the toilet seat and use one of the sharp pieces of ceramic to cut both of his arms, although, according to the doctors, in a non-life threatening way. This leads us to believe that his suicide attempt was not related to mental illness (such as depression, for example) or guilt, but a means of manipulation, maybe to fake regret or claim insanity in the future trial.

On the 20th he was transported back to the prison, where he stays to this day under suicide watch, awaiting trial.

The police have until September to conclude the investigation, which will then be transferred to court for trial.

We don’t know how or when this will end, or if more information will be released once a sentence is given, and knowing how slow the justice system is in Portugal, it may take years until this case is fully closed. But until then, keep it in your minds, don’t let Valentina’s memory die and hope that justice is made.

Her name was Valentina Fonseca, and this was her tragic story.

#true crime #valentina fonseca #portugal #true crime portugal #criminology #forensic psychology #solved murder #solved #solved case

47 notes · View notes

jaxsteamblog · 4 years

Text

Betrayal

Click here to read the full fic on AO3

They worked together every night of the week. Zuko always brought food and the three of them chatted together as they worked. At a certain point, they had to stop and seriously discuss transportation. This resulted in Zuko and Sokka taking measurements inside of the van but arguing about what the dimensions meant.

Katara laughed and sat back, watching them.

When it was all done and staged, the backroom looked like a construction zone. Foam blocks and partially built wooden structures covered almost every available surface. The refrigerators were stuffed with flowers. Leaves were stuck to everything.

“Tomorrow we’ll be closed, by the way.” Sokka said as he came out of the workroom with three bottles of iced tea. They sat in the alley, still damp from their cold and waterlogged activity. Zuko had pilfered the milk crates from a restaurant a few doors down and Katara didn’t even care about the hard plastic digging into her backside.

“Do we get to stay for the party?” Katara asked.

“I usually hang around and snag something from the catering.” Sokka said and drank his tea.

“As long as you guys have a nice outfit to change into, I think you could even manage to be with the other guests.” Zuko said.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Sokka said.

“Why not?” Katara asked.

“Don’t worry, he’s not coming anymore. Something came up.” Zuko replied.

“Who’s not going to be there?” Katara questioned.

“My father.” Zuko said and chugged most of his tea. After letting out a small gasp, he smiled at her. “He usually does that. He’ll say he’ll be somewhere to stress people out and then cancel last minute.”

“Full offense, your dad sounds like a jerk.” Katara said. Zuko gave a short laugh and Sokka snorted.

“They’re all jerks. Jerkbenders, every single one of ‘em.” He said.

“So how nice of an outfit are we talking here?” Katara asked.

The next day Zuko didn’t show up to help. While she understood, Katara still felt a little disappointed; she had wanted his opinion on her dress before they left. Still, Sokka’s girlfriend Suki showed up to assist and gave her seal of approval. Because Katara was driving separately, she took everyone’s garment bags, laying them out on her back seat as gently as Sokka did his flowers.

When they got to the Jasmine Dragon, Zuko was still nowhere to be found.The party planner - a very severe woman in a well-tailored tux - showed them where to put the flowers. And while she herself didn’t help, she certainly allocated enough hired hands to do so. Again, Katara was tasked with filling the vases and making sure water didn’t spill. It created a little cognitive dissonance in her, knowing that in a few short weeks she’d be learning how to use her bending to save people’s lives. But for now, she was cleaning up spills.

Once everything was set up, they all stood for a moment in quiet awe. The tablecloths were a deep blue and with the predominance of white in the flower arrangements, the snowfall effect played out over individual seas. Crystal glasses glinted under the light and the pristine dishes were smooth tundras. Katara shivered in spite of herself.

“Awesome. Now let’s get changed.” Sokka said.

Katara gathered the bags from her car and went with Suki to the restroom. She had expected tight quarters, even with the teahouse’s obviously elite interior. But the restroom was nothing like the front of the business. There were only a few stalls, yes, but it was portioned off into two rooms; the first had a couch on one side and a vanity on the other.

“For all the fixtures, this is actually an old school style.” Suki said as she saw Katara take it all in. “This is why they were called restrooms afterall.”

The stalls were spacious and each one equipped for a number of mobility needs. But it was still a toilet stall, so Katara stood on her shoes as she changed out of her clothes.

The dress was from her Gran-Gran’s wedding; it had been a stroke of luck that Zuko’s party was basically Water Tribe themed. The skirt of her dress was almost the same shade of blue as the tablecloths and the bodice was white lace. It had been impossible to zip up at the wedding and Katara flailed about just as uselessly this time.

“Need a hand?” Suki asked from the next stall.

“Yeah, let me just get my shoes on.” Katara said.

The restroom door opened and Katara heard two women enter, talking.

“So what?” One woman, sounding bored, asked.

“So,” The other said, sounding irritated. “I just don’t know why he always does that.”

“They’re friends.” The first woman said.

“And we’re always so happy to see you.” Suki called out. Katara gathered up her things and opened the stall door.

“Oh great, he invited more commoners.” The first woman remarked.

Suki came out of her stall and went to the sinks, placing her clothes down.

“Nice to see you too Azula. Mai.” Suki said and went back to Katara. “Hey, hold your hair up.”

Katara held her clothes in one arm and lifted up her hair. She briefly examined the two new women, put off by the hostility. One of them looked a little like Zuko, mostly in the eyes, and she assumed this was his sister Azula. The other was a tall woman with long straight hair. Maybe Mai.

“I’m Katara.�� Katara interjected as Suki zipped up her dress.

“I don’t think I care.” Probably Azula said.

“That’s prissy princess Azula and the other one is Mai.” Suki said. “Now do me.”

Katara turned around and zipped up Suki’s gown. It was an evergreen color, simply cut but it looked very stylish.

“That’s a great dress.” Katara said.

“Thanks. Zuko and Sokka go out a lot when he’s in town, so I had to get some adequate attire.” Suki said with faux-bitterness. She turned and flashed Katara a quick smile.

“Great, can you get out now? Your bargain bin dresses are giving me a headache.” Azula said and pushed between the two of them. Suki rolled her eyes but started walking out.

“I can’t believe they’re related.” Katara said as they exited. Guests had started to show up and now a few people eyed them awkwardly.

“Come on.” Suki whispered and headed to the side exit where Katara’s car was parked. They walked out and found Sokka standing next to the open passenger door, talking to Zuko. Both of them were in tuxes and looked pretty comfortable in them.

Katara tried to remember when Sokka had gotten used to wearing a suit. Clearly it had only happened after he met Zuko.

“Well don’t you boys clean up nice.” Suki said, her Kyoshi accent slipping out purposefully. Sokka kissed her cheek and took her clothes, tossing them unceremoniously into the backseat.

“I’d compliment you but you always look radiant.” Sokka told her. Zuko smiled and looked at Katara.

“That dress is beautiful.” He said. Katara glanced down and put her hands on the bottom half of her bodice.

“Thanks. I got it for my grandmother’s wedding.” She replied.

“Hey, so people have shown up and your sister is here.” Suki said, linking her arm through Sokka’s and leaning on him.

“Well we certainly don’t need her holding court right now.” Zuko grumbled. “Alright, I guess it’s time for me to go in.”

Sokka shut the door of the car and they all walked back in.

It only took a few moments for people to notice but once they did, they swarmed around Zuko. Clearly he was well known, and it obviously wasn’t for his uncle’s teashop. But whatever was going on back in the Fire Nation, he didn’t talk about it and Katara always felt weird when she was about to search him up online. Anything she found she knew wouldn’t be congruent with the man she had spent every night this week working on flower displays. It was bad enough to see him like this, dressed so formally and chatting up equally lavish looking people when just last night he had been covered in tiny statice flowers.

“So what’s supposed to happen?” Katara asked.

“Well, there will probably be a tea demonstration. I wouldn’t be surprised if Azula did it. And then lunch, where a ton of people will drink too much and make speeches. Then someone will push the tables out of the way and dancing will start, regardless of what time it is.” Sokka answered.

“That seems like a lot.” Katara replied.

“Is it really any different than what the rest of us do?” Suki asked.

“But everything is so nice.” Katara countered.

“That doesn’t mean anything to these people. Just wait till you see how much they rack up in damages.” Sokka said.

After about thirty minutes of greeting, an older man stepped onto a raised stage. He tapped the microphone to get everyone’s attention and Zuko took the opportunity to weave through the crowd back to them.

“Hey.” He whispered and squeezed Katara’s shoulder as he stepped behind her. Blushing, she became acutely aware of his presence behind her right shoulder as he stood next to Sokka.

“Thank you everyone for coming out to celebrate my nephew’s birthday. It is an honor to be surrounded by so many friends, and by such delicious tea!” The man said and the audience laughed politely. “Because the two greatest joys in my old age are tea and my niece and nephew, I am delighted to invite out my niece Azula to perform a traditional tea ceremony.”

The audience applauded and Zuko scoffed. Everyone started to shuffle around, taking a seat as Azula and a few others brought cases and equipment to the stage. Azula had changed into a traditional kimono and she looked serene. It was a shocking change from their interaction in the restroom.

The ceremony was artfully done and Zuko went forward to receive the cup his sister had prepared. More tea was made and people started to socialize. Other performers came to the stage to play instruments and servers brought out small dishes, all which became background noise.

Zuko kept having to get up and circulate amongst the guests, but ultimately returned to their table to eat a few appetizers and drink some tea. By the time lunch was served, Katara was already full. But this time, the alcohol was poured and the room started to grow warmer and louder.

Stopping back at their table, Katara handed him a cold glass of water, which he took gratefully.

“All the old guys are eyeing the microphone.” Suki said, leaning across the table toward Zuko.

“Probably trying to figure out how to suck up to my father while telling me off.” He replied, glancing over at the stage.

“Well that just means someone has to get up there first to set the tone.” Sokka said and stood.

“Sokka, do not tell them-” Zuko started but Sokka cut him off.

“I will confess my love to you as many times as it takes Zuko.” He said. Zuko put his face in his hands and groaned while Katara patted his back.

The microphone whined as Sokka twisted it and most of the audience watched him.

“Good afternoon everyone. My name is Sokka and some of you know me as That Native Boy Who Sells Flowers. Anyway, I just wanted to be the first to say, Zuko, you are the most handsome Fire Nation guy I’ve ever met and I hope you never change. Happy birthday you magnificent sunbeam you.” Sokka said and raised his beer glass. A few voices, most likely belonging to the younger members of the crowd, cheered as Sokka took a drink.

As Sokka made it to the table, Zuko was rubbing his chin and shaking his head. Sokka just slapped his back and sat down.

“Do you like getting me in trouble?” Zuko asked, gesturing with his hand in the empty air.

“What’s the worst that can happen? You get another scar?” Sokka said and then made a dismissive sound. “You’ll be fine champ.”

There was a tapping on the microphone and they looked over again. Mai stood there, holding her champagne glass and leaning over the microphone gracefully.

“Thank you Sokka, I’m always glad to know my boyfriend is in such safe hands when he’s away from home.” Mai began. Katara felt her stomach sink and she sat up in her chair. Boyfriend?

“Zuko, you know I’m not one for grand speeches. But I’m here, which is saying something. Happy birthday.” Mai continued and raised her glass. “To the Fire Lord.”

The entire audience and Zuko raised their glasses and replied, in near perfect unison, “To the Fire Lord.”

Zuko looked uneasy and didn’t turn as he took a drink. Good thing, as Katara’s hands had turned to lead and she hadn’t been able to move them.

1 2 3 4 5 6

#zutara #fanfiction #jax writes #modern au #zutara month 2020 #the fic that prompts built

55 notes · View notes

tysonrunningfox · 5 years

Text

Ripped: Part 27

I’m.......so fucking stoked to post this right now

Ao3

“I need to stop and fill up,” Eretson mumbles ten silent minutes into the ride back to Fishlegs’ house.

“How dare you?” The silence shatters like physical bonds and Astrid sits up straight in the passenger seat, arms crossed to keep herself from hitting him.

Or at least not hitting him yet. She still might hit him, but not now, not until he explains where he left his brain.

“I can make it,” he swallows, refusing to look at her, “the light comes on fifty miles before empty, anyway.”

“Hiccup told me about the plea deal,” she tries to sound deadly but with her fists tucked away and her eyes tired, she’s not convinced that she gets the point across. Especially when Eretson pulls up in front of Fishlegs’ house and looks at her with obvious pity, like she’s a kid and he’s about to have to explain that the fish he flushed down the toilet isn’t coming back.

“We can talk tomorrow.” Eretson gestures at the front door of Fishlegs’ house, porch light welcoming even now.

“We can talk now,” she raises an eyebrow, “because I’m not telling Snotlout about this myself.”

“Jorgenson will understand,” he shrinks a little under the statement though and she knows she’s struck a nerve. Good. If Eretson is stupid enough to put the idea of a plea deal in Hiccup’s evasive head, he deserves to look Snotlout in the face and admit it. “He’s a cop.”

“A cop who I haven’t seen put too many innocent people in jail on purpose,” she lets disgust leak into her tone and it’s enough that Eretson turns the car off with an efficient turn of the keys before climbing out of the car and striding ahead of her to the door.

He doesn’t want to look at her right now, and that would make her want to get in his face if it wouldn’t put her expression in full display. She doesn’t want to see her own face until she shoves useless despair back where it belongs, behind a wall of determination.

“Detective Eretson?” Fishlegs answers Eretson’s knock and the other man holds up an almost surrendering hand.

“Eret is fine.”

“Is that like a nickname or something?” Snotlout’s lying back on the couch, tossing a box of tissues up in the air and catching it. He tries to lean up on his elbow, but it must hurt his stitches because he falls back again, the box hitting him in the face. “Because it’s stupid, and I hate it.”

“It’s not a nickname.”

“No, it’s kind of just half your name.” He sits up, using Heather’s shoulder for help even when she tries to shrug him off, obviously invested in the papers she has scattered across the floor.

“How is that not a nickname?” Heather snaps, smacking his hand away from her shoulder. “Isn’t a nickname just a shortened version of someone’s name?”

“Usually their first name, Heather, would you take me seriously if I went by ‘Jorg’?”

“Probably,” she snorts, standing up and handing a piece of research to Astrid, highlighted and attached to a couple of sticky notes. Something about the first canonical Grimborn murder and the despair fights against its cage. “You know, since ‘Jorg’ is just Swedish for ‘George’.”

“Why are you bringing up my name when this guy just announced that his name is Eret Eretson?”

“You brought up your own name.” Fishlegs locks both of the new deadbolts he installed yesterday, his hand awkward on Hiccup’s borrowed drill, and if Astrid doesn’t hit someone soon, she’s going to scream.

“Sixty-eight!” She settles for yelling at Snotlout, brandishing the research she doesn’t want to read like a weapon.

“Why does that go on my tally? Fishlegs was just the one talking—” His eyes widen and he holds his hands up apologetically, “wait no, I’m sorry Astrid. So very sorry.”

The apology is authentic enough to catch her off guard and she almost hits him anyway, for surprising her when she can’t tolerate anymore surprises, but it also gives her a moment to breathe and shrug and pretend she knows how to be reasonable.

“It’s ok,” she bites her lip and gestures at Eretson, who she will not be calling by his first name because even though she lacks the bandwidth to agree with Snotlout right now, his name is stupid. “Eretson has something to tell you.”

“What? Is your middle name ‘Son’?”

“I talked to Hiccup today,” Eretson pulls the conversation back on topic and it’s anything but a relief. Astrid wants to shout that she talked to him too, that he’s stupid and noble and not fine at all, but once again, that wouldn’t help anything. “And introduced the idea of proposing a plea deal to implicate Grisly.”

Snotlout frowns and looks between Astrid and Eretson before speaking slowly, “did he say no?”

“He didn’t say anything,” Eretson shrugs, “I just told him to think about it.”

“Well, that was stupid,” Astrid laughs bitterly, “he doesn’t just think about anything, he obsesses over everything.”

Snotlout and Fishlegs share a knowing look and Astrid raises an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Snotlout drops her question almost too gently, and she’d be suspicious if she had room for anything other than mounting panic at the thought of Hiccup following Eretson’s advice.

“What was that look?”

“There was no look,” Snotlout shrugs, looking back at Eretson.

“It’s just that you calling Hiccup obsessive is a little…well, someone mentioned Viggo Grimborn outside your apartment a couple of times and now you’re involved in a copy cat murder investigation.” Fishlegs says gently, if a little condescendingly, and Astrid purses her lips.

“A few times a night, maybe.”

“And I don’t think you’ve been outside in days because you’re researching so frantically, so you calling someone obsessed—”

“Are you done?” She cuts him off and he holds his hands up. “Because I’m trying to talk about the horrifically stupid idea of Hiccup accepting some kind of plea deal.”

“How exactly is it stupid?” Snotlout asks, too gentle, and she blinks at him.

“Because he’s innocent?” Heather answers for her, “and admitting to something that he didn’t do isn’t the smart way to handle this?”

“Plus, think about how it would look when this does go to trial,” Astrid points out and Heather nods in agreement.

“A trial will take months,” Eretson says, too gently, and she hates when the truth doesn’t sound like a point. “Months you have to keep looking, whether he takes the deal or not.”

“Forensics should have enough for dismissal in months,” Astrid’s voice cracks and she forces it even, ignoring worried looks that she doesn’t want, “why do you think Viggo Grimborn wasn’t caught? He wasn’t a criminal mastermind, it’s just that no one could fingerprint him or use a DNA sample.”

“Forensics will be valuable at a trial,” Eretson’s measured voice makes her want to scream, like maybe if she’s loud enough she can force something to happen, “but it’s still about convincing a jury.”

“I wish the news would stop covering it,” Heather mutters and Snotlout shoots her a look before talking.

“What kind of plea would you even be asking for?”

“I was thinking something along the lines of trading information in exchange for a reduced sentence,” Eretson fidgets with his sleeves, pushing them up and letting them fall back down, twitchy at the odds of getting yelled at again.

“So, he trades the ‘insider information’ that Grisly is a sociopathic serial murderer and they ship him off to the nice prison upstate while they investigate,” Snotlout mulls that over for a second, “as much as I hate to say it, that’s not a bad idea.”

“Really?” Eretson flushes and clears his throat, standing up straight like his spine has been replaced by a curtain rod. “I’ve been looking through Grisly’s case notes and I don’t like the idea of him having months to patch up the few holes I’ve found so far.”

“Then what do you do a few months down the road when forensics prove that Hiccup had nothing to do with it?” Astrid hates even entertaining the idea long enough to say it out loud and Heather seems to agree, nodding emphatically. “But there’s a record of him confessing, what happens to that?”

“Unless Grisly planted Hiccup’s hairs all over or something,” Snotlout says, a little desperate, worry leaking through in ways Astrid doesn’t understand. “Either way though, it’s contempt of court or obstruction of justice or something and he can appeal—"

“So, more time in court, more chances for disaster,” she laughs, the thought of further disaster too heavy and impossible to take seriously, “all to tell a lie that’s going to be overturned by evidence anyway?”

“All to get my couch back,” Fishlegs says quietly after a minute, appearing at Astrid’s side and putting an arm over her shoulders. It’s shepherding as much as comforting and she digs in her heels against being herded.

“You can stay with me,” Heather offers, and Astrid never thought she’d consider Heather the only other person with sense.

“Your address is on file,” Eretson shakes his head, “it’s not safe while Grisly is still out there—”

“I don’t care,” Astrid shoves Fishlegs’ arm off, unsure how she’s the one in the corner when Hiccup is the one in the cell.

“I do,” Snotlout is quiet, almost apologetic as he looks at her, “I’m getting pretty sick of hiding out while the guy trying to kill me gets to think he’s winning.”

“So, Hiccup is supposed to confess to something he didn’t do so you can feel like you’re winning?” Heather snips and Snotlout rolls his eyes.

“Don’t talk to me about what’s best for Hiccup, you ditched him as soon as you disagreed about Vinyl Greenbean—”

“Then why are Astrid and I the only ones who don’t want him to lie during a criminal trial—”

Heather and Snotlout bicker like siblings, the kind of vicious back and forth perfected over years of disagreements, but something about their timing is off, like there’s a hole, a third voice supposed to flit back and forth alongside theirs. Astrid can hear its absence louder than any memory of Hiccup’s voice and the thought makes her swallow hard, clinging to something looking more impossible every second.

What if there’s no way to make this all go away? What if she does have to find some way to move on with her life while trials drag out across weeks or months or years?

She doesn’t want her life back, not while Hiccup isn’t in it. Not while he doesn’t have his.

“Enough,” Eretson cuts across the arguing with a tired, heavy order that everyone takes. Snotlout turns to point at him, irritated, but he stays quiet as Eretson continues. “None of this is going to be decided tonight, it’ll take time to talk through either way, so maybe it’s best to…”

“Hiccup’s already decided,” Astrid glares at Eretson one last time before sitting on the couch and diving into Heather’s nearest pile of research, hoping for some concrete fact large enough to drown out her fears.

00000

The memo to leave her alone must be delivered to appropriate parties, because she spends the next three days researching in relative privacy. Ruffnut helps, which means she hangs around and talks about nothing in particular, but it’s better than Fishlegs’ quiet worry or Snotlout being a little too nice. Ruffnut is at the archives when Eretson and Heather show up, looking official enough that it sends a thrill of cool fury down her spine.

One of these days, Eretson is going to tell her that Hiccup accepted a plea deal and she’s going to hit him. It’s inevitable and infuriating and it takes everything in her not to wish it would hurry up, even sarcastically.

She’s not supposed to be the cynical one, there’s supposed to be someone else here to do that.

“What do you want?” She doesn’t so much greet Eretson as warn him.

Eretson glances suspiciously at Ruffnut before talking, “I was hoping—”

“We were hoping,” Heather tries to soften the tone of the situation and Astrid sighs, forcing her expression placid as she waves Eretson on with a falsely casual hand.

“There’s a piece of evidence I’d like your opinion on,” He produces a thumb drive and looks pointedly at Ruffnut again, waiting for her to take the hint.

“Ooh, evidence? I’m in.” She intercepts the hint and runs with it, snatching the drive and plugging it into Astrid’s computer.

“Actually, it’s sensitive,” Heather tries and fails to beat Ruffnut to the mouse and Astrid crosses her arms.

“I trust her with sensitive.”

“You do?” Ruffnut snorts, clicking play before Eretson can stop her.

It’s a grainy, night-vision video of a man in a top hat and a long coat limping fluidly across the street in front of Astrid’s apartment building. In the fifteen seconds shown, the figure never shows his face, instead leaning the hat closer to the camera as he raises a long arm upwards and covers the lens in what Astrid assumes is black spray paint.

The time stamp is for the morning Hiccup got arrested, at 3:28am.

“We know it’s not Hiccup,” Heather placates, and Astrid wipes her palms on her jeans.

“Someone sure tried to make it look like him though,” she sighs, “play it again.”

The second playthrough she tries to ignore the mocking in the swinging limp, the coat that hangs wrong, the arm that moves slowly through a calculated arc. She succeeds enough to notice the hat, fluorescing just enough in the night-vision to make itself unique.

“Look,” she pauses the video, pointing at a splatter of small smudges on the front of the hat forming almost a halo around a larger smudge on the top of it, “what’s that stain?”

“I wondered that too,” Heather tries to take the mouse and Astrid bristles for a second before letting her, “but then I looked into the camera that Gobber put up and apparently it’s some paranormal detection model with a UV mode.”

For the first time, something clicks just next to Grisly’s painted narrative, a single fallen leaf looped into an eddy instead of following the current all the way down.

“Snotlout had Hiccup’s hat.” Astrid starts looking through her phone, hoping she texted someone or took some picture, something concrete to prove what she’s saying. “The night he was over at my place and got shot. But he didn’t have it at the hospital, so there’s no way that Hiccup had it the other morning.”

“How do you know this is his hat?” Eretson asks and Astrid points at the largest faintly glowing stain.

“Toothpaste fluoresces,” she laughs, finally feeling like she might be getting somewhere after eons of dead ends, “that’s—I know I got toothpaste on his hat and the rest…if I had to guess, it’s blowback, from when Grisly shot Snotlout. He must have taken the hat then.”

“So, you’re saying the fact that you can prove it’s Hiccup’s hat…means it’s not him blacking out the camera?” Heather looks at Eretson for corroboration.

“The only proof we have against Grisly is Jorgenson’s testimony,” Eretson shakes his head, “and I don’t want to bring him in yet. What about proof that Hiccup didn’t shoot Jorgenson and take his hat back?”

“You saw him at the hospital,” Astrid tries, the memory of Hiccup strung out and exhausted tugging at heartstrings that must remain double-knotted if she has any chance of being useful through this.

“That won’t hold up in court,” Eretson shakes his head and Astrid wants everyone to leave so she can keep reading and figure out some magical way that this doesn’t go to court.

A way other than a plea deal that resigns Hiccup to being known as a murderer or at least an accomplice. She just needs time and she can fix this. She’s sure there must be a hole somewhere, no one is perfect, least of all Grisly.

“Wait, before the hospital, he was with me,” Ruffnut supplies, crossing her arms.

“What?” Astrid tries to communicate her anger at not being told that little detail earlier with her eyes.

“We were at the condos trying to sneak into Grisly’s office.” She laughs, “we succeeded, and got caught and—oh wow, that’s not a funny story anymore knowing he was coming from shooting Snotlout.”

“How was that ever a funny story?” Astrid doesn’t expect an answer, but Ruffnut, as always, defies expectation.

“It was hilarious, we were like pretending to be married—that’s how I grabbed his ass, remember?”

Of course Astrid remembers, but she never thought the nonsense coming out of Ruff’s mouth and igniting useless little furls of jealousy would ever be pertinent to something this important. She half thought Ruffnut was kidding to urge her into some kind of forward motion, and she didn’t really have a chance to get past half-thinking about the comment.

“Does Grisly know you snuck into his office?” Eretson asks, frustrated that it’s a question he needs to worry about but obviously relieved that he’s no longer obligated to report on its legality.

“He caught me,” Ruffnut shrugs, “but Hiccup got out without Grisly seeing him.”

“There goes that alibi,” Eretson mutters and Astrid tucks her hair behind her ear, trying not to feel defeated in her once sacred role.

“I could—you know, I could go down to the station right now and—”

“I’m saving that,” Eretson says cryptically, a whisper in the mausoleum dedicated to her chances of helping.

“Fine.” She stalks off to the nearly completed Grimborn room and everyone is gone by the time she risks going back to her desk.

When she gets back to Fishlegs’ house and knocks on the front door, Snotlout swears inside, obviously startled, and she’s irritated until he opens the two deadbolts and she sees the relief in his face.

“Sorry.” She doesn’t know what else to say and immediately wishes she’d said nothing.

“It’s fine.” He seems to stuff down what he wants to say, “you’re not Grisly.”

“Guilty,” she tries to joke but it’s not funny and she wonders what Hiccup would say. “About the plea deal—”

“What’s your team?” Snotlout interrupts, introspection wrongly-sized on his face.

“What?”

“I’ve never asked what team you actually support,” he shrugs and she narrows her eyes, “is it the Chiefs? I bet it’s the Chiefs. Vikings fan?—"

“Why?”

“They uh…having a good season?”

“Goodnight,” she stalks past him to the couch and opens the notebook she left on the coffee table, re-reading Hiccup’s notes for the millionth time.

00000

The next time Eretson and Heather show up at the archives, Astrid tries to ignore him, but curiosity gets the better of her and she acquiesces to his questions with a nod.

“Have you found anything promising?” He asks like he already knows the answer and she flips through Hiccup’s notes to the creased, crumpled picture of the ‘Al, I.’ safe message.

“I did think of something earlier,” she ignores how Heather examines the picture with authentic interest, trying to remember the details of Hiccup’s interrupted tour, even though it hurts, terrified that the memory of his shocked, delighted face under spontaneous hat hair when she took control will fade. “If the whole idea is that Hiccup is mimicking the Grimborn murders, why didn’t he leave a message on the wall? He clearly had paint,” she references the video from earlier in the week, but even she can hear how feeble the idea is.

He didn’t have time to leave a safe message because he got caught. Copycat killers don’t purposefully leave more evidence. She’s grasping and it’s obvious and desperate and she hates the edge of pity in Eretson’s expression as he sighs.

Astrid’s jaded enough by this point to not ask if she can go with him when he leaves. Something tells her the plea deal is more probability than possibility at this point.

Heather stays though, asking to see the Berk Enquirer where Astrid found the ‘Al, I.’ safe message, her hands careful on the wrinkled pages that Hiccup clenched in his fist a world ago, when all of this seemed random. Snotlout and Ruffnut show up not too much later and Ruffnut produces a flask from her purse, setting it purposefully in the middle of the table.

“Antique documents,” Astrid hisses half-heartedly, pulling the pages away and brushing at a drip of nose-burning alcohol on the corner.

“Tuffnut made this,” she drums her fingers on the table, “do we try it? Or is that a really bad idea? Or do we try it because it’s a really bad idea?”

“If we’re trying bad ideas…” Astrid closes the notebook she was reading and the lack of distraction makes the day instantly heavier. “I have a couple others I’d put first.”

Hitting Eretson. Draining her bank account to hire her own lawyer and sue Eretson. Go down to the station and tell all the truths she’s been holding back. Hit Grisly while she’s at it.

“We should try it,” Snotlout rubs his hands together then pauses, “or we could try whatever bad idea Astrid wants to try first, I’m open.”

“Stop,” she glares at him.

“Stop what?”

“Being so nice,” her shudder is involuntary, “it’s not going to make me feel any better about the plea deal. And it’s creepy.”

“It is creepy,” Heather agrees, “it’s like the threat of Astrid hitting you sixty plus times finally taught you humility or something.”

“She can’t,” his wince is exaggerated, “I’d still die. It wouldn’t be any better than handing me over to Grisly.”

“Sounds like that might be easier on you,” Ruffnut laughs, eternally repositioning herself into the audience.

Astrid opens her mouth to say something to Heather but a choked breath is all that comes out as her eyes widen. Easier. Grisly has a plan to make this easier.

“That’s it,” she says quietly, morbid confidence welling behind it, “that’s his out.”

“Hey, don’t actually turn me over to Grisly, just because you don’t like—”

“No,” she shoves the rest of Hiccup’s notes in her bag, “that’s Grisly’s plan. That’s how none of this catches up to him, that’s how forensics doesn’t uncover anything. That’s how he keeps this out of trial, where he’ll obviously lose.”

“What are you talking about?”

“And the deal is going to rush it—”

“Astrid—" Ruffnut goes to stand up, but Heather beats her to it, following Astrid to the archives’ staircase.

“I’ll be back at Fishlegs’ later,” Astrid doesn’t stop Heather from following her, taking a brief chance on the camaraderie born in the fire of all these recent disasters.

“What are you doing?” Heather asks outside, pulling an umbrella out of her bag when a crack of thunder punctuates the conversation.

“I’m going to go see Hiccup.” She feels better saying it out loud. More solid. More effective.

“He doesn’t want you to,” Heather pauses like she’s holding something else back, but Astrid keeps walking, arms crossed against the rain.

“Well I don’t want to sit around joking about him being in jail.” She lets her realization sit for a second, pausing as long as she dares to think about it without throwing off the rest of her juggling rhythm. Being equally annoyed at Snotlout’s story isn’t really a reason to trust Heather, but it’s all Astrid has, and she flicks her a careful, judgmental glance. “I have to warn him. Even if it’s another wild guess—”

“Slow down,” Heather frowns, moving close enough to share her umbrella, “warn him about what?”

Astrid sighs, once again leaning into the uncomfortable truth that she can’t do this alone, “if Grisly is really planning on getting away with framing Hiccup with modern forensics and psychological assessments working against him, he can’t let this go to trial. And at this point, the only way to stop it from going to trial is to make sure there’s no one to try.”

It’s abstract and cluttered and everything she can do to not say ‘kill’.

“How are you planning on getting into the jail?” Heather asks after a silent second, handing Astrid the umbrella to dig through her bag.

“I…hadn’t thought that far.” She curses herself, trying to rein the useless panic back in.

“Snotlout never took his badge back.” Heather hands her an all too familiar shield shaped badge in a thin leather wallet and reaches back into her bag, “or his gun—”

“Why would I need a gun?”

“If you’re right…” She trails off pragmatically and Astrid swallows hard, shaking her head.

“If I’m wrong, I’m breaking enough laws impersonating a police officer. How do you know the badge will work?”

“It’s how I got in last time, there wasn’t even a guard on duty at the side door, I just scanned the badge and went up. He was on the top floor then, in the smallest corner cell.” She produces a keyring and holds it up by a non-descript silver key, “this opened the hallway door.”

“You aren’t going to tell me to stay out of it?” Astrid pauses, the rain on the umbrella punctuating her half thoughts. Maybe she should ask for the gun after all.

“I think it’s your business whether you stay out of it or not.”

It’s either a setup or it’s not. Heather is either with Grisly or not. Astrid either showed her hand or she didn’t, and either way, her next move is the same. Tell Hiccup.

Heather goes back to the archives, or the station, or to Grisly’s office to tell him what’s going on. Astrid doesn’t know and she doesn’t have room to care, not when the last week without seeing Hiccup might be coming to something like an end. A point of punctuation, at least, a new anchor before the next disaster, whatever it will be.

The side door of the county jail opens like the alley door of an office building when Astrid holds the badge against it, and if it weren’t for the Berk Police Department insignia on the wall inside, she could almost believe she was going to a doctor’s appointment or to see an accountant. That illusion shatters though when she looks through the small bulletproof window on the second-floor landing and sees a line of men in orange jumpsuits walking down the hallway, shepherded by a guard in a gray uniform that sends a shiver up her spine.

She’s never seen a prison guard, their uniforms could be gray for all she knows, but they look too much like NWF for comfort.

The badge works again at the sensor next to the door on the top floor and she slips through, shutting it quietly behind her and not giving herself time to pause or think, because if she did, she might realize what a horrible idea this is. The umbrella in her hand drips a trail of raindrops on the floor as she walks purposefully, trying to project that she knows what she’s doing and she’s supposed to be here as she makes her way to the last door on the left, hoping for the first scrap of luck that she’s had since she found Elizabeth Smith’s apartment.

The key Heather gave her slides easily into the lock, turning with an anticlimactic click, and she slips inside before she can think better of it.

“Astrid?” Hiccup’s voice splits the silence with a stab of shaky confusion, a wall of bars between them dividing his haggard face into three parallel snapshots of shock.

“Hi.” She looks him up and down, making sure he’s real and whole, struggling to hold onto the urgency that propelled her up here on a whim.

“How—”

“Snotlout’s badge,” she shows him before shoving it into her pocket to free up a hand that she rests tentatively on the crossbeam of the cold bars. He hesitates before setting bony, clammy fingers on hers, jaw flexing under the extra week of stubble too obviously, like he’s lost weight he couldn’t afford to lose.

He looks worse than he did through plexiglass and her heart aches.

“Heather…” His expression is resolute, but his eyes are soft, “you shouldn’t be here.”

“Neither should you,” she snaps a little too loud, “and I’m trying to fix it, I’m trying to find something wrong in Grisly’s setup, but I don’t see how to make it fall apart before it goes to trial. Or worse, before you force it into an early plea deal.”

“Trial,” Hiccup’s lips twist into a nauseous smirk and her hand itches to wipe it off. “Grisly seems to think this won’t make it that far.”

“He said that?” Astrid’s blood runs cold and fast, like her veins are an Alaskan rafting course, and Hiccup’s fingers curl absently around her knuckles, thumb brushing hers as he frowns. “And the plea deal would make it happen so much faster, but—did he really say that he wasn’t going to let it go to trial?”

“Something similar,” he shrugs a scrawny shoulder and his frown deepens, “you really shouldn’t be here.”

“The only way that Grisly could avoid a trial would be if there’s no one to try. If the murders stop and the evidence lines up, why would anyone dig deeper? Especially if he got rid of you, that would be easiest for him.” She needs to say ‘kill’, she knows she does, she needs to drag Hiccup along with her on a tour of their macabre reality, but the word sticks in her throat like its determined to choke her. “It’s the only thing that makes sense, it’s the only way any of this fits—”

“I love you.” Hiccup doesn’t stutter or choke or quibble. He looks at her, ghost of a smile haunting the corner of his mouth as his hand tightens on hers. “You know, just in case you’re right again and I don’t get another chance.”

Her heart skips a beat then makes up for it, and at first, she thinks she imagines the clapping.

It almost sounds like the pounding in her head, a little uneven, emphasis drifting slightly off beat. It could be an echo, a residual from the way her heart is pounding, fear and confusion rattling around her chest.

It could be a symptom of her brain shutting down, until the laugh.

There’s nothing humorous in the sound, nothing alive. It’s half awkward chuckle after dropping a stage prop and half delighted to stumble upon adequate improv partners.

It’s Grisly in the doorway with a knife.

Hiccup’s top-hat is crooked on his head, as out of place as his unpracticed smile, but twice as insulting. He claps again, impersonating some concept of glee, and Astrid’s feet feel glued to the floor.

“You love her?” He laughs, the sound rich like blood, more alive than she’s ever heard him, “I had my suspicions, but I never dreamed I’d see them confirmed.”

“What are you doing here?” Hiccup’s voice is dull and quaking with some deep-set vulnerability that makes Astrid want to protect him.

“Your dutiful lawyer is downstairs negotiating a plea bargain,” Grisly says like he’s delivering bad news, looking down at the knife in his hand with an almost fond smile, “he seems to think that horrible judge might go easier on you if you talk. And maybe it’s true, some people must be a fan of your talking for you to have made it this far.” When he looks back up, his smile is almost peaceful, like he’s nearly at the end of a very long, arduous road. “I’m not one of them.”

“I thought you enjoyed our conversations,” Hiccup angles himself like there’s some impossible way he could shield Astrid even when she’s on the same side of the bars as the madman with a knife, and his eyes scream ‘run’ in a language Astrid doesn’t speak.

“Astrid,” Grisly doesn’t ignore Hiccup’s struggle to protect her as much as he passively enjoys it, like background music amplifying the emotion in a movie scene. “This is long overdue, I was hoping to save you the inconvenience of coming down here by making a house call—”

“Leave her alone!” Hiccup yells, desperate, the walls swallowing most of the volume even as it leaves Astrid’s ears ringing.

There are cameras in the hallway, they surely heard this. They’re surely hearing all of this.

Why didn’t Grisly shut the door? If he shut the door, his audience would shrink dramatically, at least until someone reviewed the tapes later.

It takes her a second to place the delight in his eyes and then it hits her that he didn’t expect to see her here.

“This is better than I could have imagined though,” Grisly laughs the low, polite laugh of someone making an inappropriate joke behind their boss’s back, “I thought Hiccup would get out on bail and I’d catch you two together with that idiot Jorgenson and clean up all my loose ends at once, getting a judge fired in the process.” He sighs, wistful for the plot twist he predicted that didn’t quite work out, “but this…to find Astrid here right when I came to dispose of you, to hear you admit your feelings not knowing you were about to watch her die…”

Die. The word seems so passive that Astrid can’t imagine it having anything to do with her. Especially with the way Grisly is looking at her like an object, a prop that couldn’t have any life to give to anything other than his dastardly scheme.

And Hiccup is quiet, quiet like he never is, quiet like he’s already given up.

Something her Uncle Finn always used to say flashes through her head, his too serious words for coaching a children’s baseball team taking on new meaning.

Stunned silence is an enemy’s greatest weapon.

When she flips her grip on the umbrella in her hands and swings it hard, it’s more dangerous than Grisly’s knife because he doesn’t expect it. Because he expected her to stand there and quiver or beg or bargain instead of follow the righteous bolt of anger telling her to take this into her own hands.

The center pole of the umbrella hits across the bridge of his nose with a crunch and a clatter as he drops his knife. He moves faster than she thinks he will, batting the umbrella away from his face and fumbling for the blade.

That puts his face at the perfect height to knee him in his already bleeding nose as she tries to straighten out the umbrella to hit him again. The first hit broke it, apparently, and she settles for thrusting the handle against his chest as soon as he tries to stand, the blow knocking him off balance and sending him stumbling back through the still open door.

His back hits the opposite wall and his hat falls off, revealing rumpled white hair that makes the blood gushing from his nose look more vital, like he’s losing something he can’t live without. He tries to stand up and she moves to hit him again, an involuntary noise of disgust leaking out when he flinches away, looking for the exit he hasn’t given anyone else.

The door at the end of the hallway flies open and Eretson appears, gun in hand, flanked by two officers uniformed in standard Berk PD blue.

Astrid drops the umbrella and holds up shaking hands, taking a step back from Grisly’s defeated form and pointing at a camera on the ceiling.

“He…he left the door open, I bet—I bet this is all on film, he wasn’t expecting, well…me.” She looks at the broken umbrella and the stain on the knee of her jeans before glancing back at Grisly’s already swollen features, sharp edges gone soft with loss of sick control. “He confessed.”

“And he trash-talked a judge,” Hiccup adds from behind her, voice meek and hollow, “which I don’t think helps.”

“Usually doesn’t help,” Astrid agrees, heart fluttering too fast as she watches a cop slide handcuffs around Grisly’s wrists. He slumps under the weight of them, nose dripping on the floor as he trudges down the hall, a leashed lion on the way back to his cage.

Eretson doesn’t ask how she got in or how she’s doing or where the knife near the gate of Hiccup’s cell came from. He sighs, either too professional to show his relief or too tired to feel it, before instructing the other officer with him to take them to an interrogation room while he goes to get a copy of the security footage before anyone else can get to it.

When he comes back and announces that a second NWF agent is in custody for trying to erase the footage seconds after Eretson’s download was complete, Astrid feels like she can breathe for the first time since she concerned herself with why Elizabeth Smith stopped.

#ripped #httyd fic #hiccstrid #modern au #serial killer tour guide au #blood tw #astrid is a bamf #if anyone guesses why snotlout is being so nice I'll...scream

62 notes · View notes

emdythewriter · 5 years

Text

Wish it was love | chapter five (rowaelin)

(NSFW)

Aelin hated court houses which was why she was so happy her and Elide were finally walking out of the damned building hours later. Today had been the hearing for her friend’s trial, which meant this was the first of many more visits because there was no way Aelin was letting Elide face this alone. Rowan had wanted to come today but he had classes throughout the day whereas Aelin’s had ended just in time.

“I know how much you hate being in that place,” Elide was saying as Aelin started to back out of the parking space they were in. “But thank you for coming today it really means a lot.”

“You think I’m going to let you face your uncle by yourself?” She asked as she turned the wheel, looking over at the dark hair covering Elide’s face, or hiding it. “I don’t care if I have to be in that courthouse again I’m not letting you face this on your own. Rowan isn’t letting you either, he wanted to come today actually.”

“Speaking of Rowan,” Elide said finally looking over at Aelin and brushing her hair behind her ear. “What’s going on there?” Aelin rolled her eyes as she turned the car onto the ramp for the interstate. No one had really ever asked her what Rowan meant to her if anything. Lysandra, her best friend had always hinted at the possibility of the two of them citing that they had “undeniable chemistry”. Yet Aelin never bothered to be anything else with Rowan and she wasn’t sure she ever would, she liked their arrangement.

“We’re just sleeping together,” she answered Elide the same way she answered all of the people in her life that knew. There was no other way of putting it anyways so why would she lie and say they were dating when her family knew she hadn’t been serious about anyone since Sam.

“Do you think you’ll ever be anything more?” Elide asked which didn’t surprise Aelin either considering she had this conversation with Lysandra so many times before.

“Even if we wanted to go a step further we couldn’t,” she said as she switched lanes and took the exit back to her apartment. “Our contracts for work pretty much forbides it unless we were previously married or decide to get married, which will probably never happen.”

“You say that now but by the end of the year you’ll be walking down the aisle,” Elide teased causing Aelin to laugh as she shook her head.

“Trust me, that’ll be the last thing to happen,” Aelin responded as she turned into the parking lot for her apartment complex. “Now let’s go I have a bed calling my name.” Elide laughed as she followed the blonde up the steps and into the two bedroom apartment she lived in.

“Hey, how was court?” Rowan asked from the couch causing Elide to jump from the scare. Neither of them had been expecting a guest when they opened the door. “Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said as he stood up and walked over to the kitchen that Aelin had headed for.

“Of course you didn’t but you did,” Aelin said as Rowan came to her side and pressed a kiss to her lips. She was ruffling through the bag she had brought for court and held all the information the lawyers were able to hand over to them. “This is what we were given and what I took notes on,” she said as she handed the folder to Rowan who took it and immediately opened it.

“How did you get in here anyways?” Elide asked as she sat on one of the barstools Aelin kept at the counter. “Do you have a key or something?” Rowan nodded as his eyes scanned the pages, barely paying attention to what was happening around him.

“At least he’s not getting bail,” Rowan commented as he looked up the pages and towards Aelin.

“It’ll probably be one of the only good things to happen in this trial,” Aelin said as she started to look through her fridge for a snack. “The defense could build a strong case considering there’s not much evidence besides the pictures I took this time, but the others? I have nothing.”

“You have Manon and Dorian both working on this though,” Rowan pointed out, setting the file to the side. “Those two on their own are a force but together they’ll be unbeatable.”

“The impossible can be made possible Rowan,” Aelin said as she popped a grape into her mouth. Her gaze was focused on the counter but she still felt Rowan come up behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist as she ate another grape.

“You’re Aelin Galathynius, since when do you give up?” Rowan teased causing her to roll her eyes and elbow his side.

“I’m not giving up I’m just trying to be realistic and being realistic means also knowing that we could lose,” Aelin said looking up into the green eyes that had been grounding her for months, almost a year actually.

“They’re going to do their best,” Rowan whispered.

“I know,” Aelin said with a smile that was almost believable. “Anyways let’s not talk about this anymore tell me something good,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck just as the toilet flushed.

“Lorcan’s here,” Rowan said just as the dark haired coach of the hockey team and sports medicine professor walked out of her bathroom and into the open concept living room and kitchen. Already he took up most of the space having been built to knock men into walls and on their asses. “He wanted to know how the hearing went today.”

“Well he won’t be out on bail so there you go you’re up to date, bye.” Aelin waved and moved to show her co-worker to the door but Rowan stopped her. He stopped her because Lorcan wasn’t paying attention to anyone else but Elide who was frozen in her seat staring right back at him.

“What are you doing here?” Elide asked as she slowly stood up from her seat, eyes still focused on him. “Why are you here?”

“I heard about what your uncle did,” Lorcan said slowly approaching her. He tried reaching out for her but when she took a step back, he stopped, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Because you care so much,” Elide said with a snarl in her voice that was very rare for the kind and quiet woman she was. There was a look in her eyes that was all hurt from everything that Lorcan had put her through two years ago. There was a hate in her eyes that wasn’t as intense as the hate for her uncle but was still a storm that could unleash some well deserved damage.

“Of course I care Elide,” Lorcan said as if he shouldn’t have to explain himself for being present, for worrying about her, for wanting to watch out for her. “I never stopped caring.”

“That’s hard to believe considering how you left things,” Elide said crossing her arms over her chest. She was putting up her walls, Aelin knew that well because it was exactly what she did every time she got defensive.

“Look I know I fucked up and I’ve been trying to fix what I did if you would just let me,” Lorcan said throwing his hands in frustration. Both Aelin and Rowan were watching the two, their heads moving back and forth like they were watching a tennis match.

“What if I don’t want to forgive you Lorcan? What happens then? Will you leave me alone? Forget about me?” Elide threw right back in his face, her voice filling with venom.

“You’re not exactly easy to forget about Elide,” Lorcan scoffed.

“Then try harder!” Elide screamed at him something that startled all three of them. “Because I don’t want to see you, not now and not ever so get that through your thick head would you!” With that being said she pushed passed him and into the bedroom she would be residing in for the time being, slamming the door behind her.

“I think you need to go,” Aelin said after a moment of shocked silence passed amongst them. Lorcan just nodded as he grabbed his keys and walked out the front door. “That was intense,” Aelin said after the door closed, looking up at Rowan as he brushed the hair out of her face.

“He does still care about her, whether you and Elide believe that or not he does,” Rowan whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“I don’t want to think about any of this right now,” she complained as she pressed her forehead against his chest.

“I could distract you,” Rowan said leaning down to whisper it against her ear. Aelin’s body lit up at that, having gone to three days without his touch. He chuckled as he felt her body grow warm against him. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Yes,” Aelin whispered as she brought his face down to hers and crushed her lips against his. Her arms wrapped around his neck as Rowan’s arms moved down her body, lifting her up into his arms and carrying her to the bedroom while their tongues tangled together. Rowan kicked the door closed and locked it behind him before laying her down on the bed.

Aelin moved her body back to the headboard as she watched Rowan pull his shirt over his head then crawling over her. He leaned down and pressed his lips to her neck moving down and biting at her skin just the way she liked it. Her fingers tangled up in his hair as he created a path of kisses and bites down her body. Rowan pushed her shirt up, making a trail down her stomach until he reached the waistband of her pants.

Unbuttoning them he pulled the black pants down her smooth and tan legs, her panties moving down with the fabric. One kiss to her thigh and then Rowan put his mouth at her core, licking three times between her folds before sticking his tongue in her and making a swirling motion.

“Fuck,” Aelin moaned as she arched her body up, grinding against his mouth already. She was trying to hold back due to the fact Elide was next door but it was an impossible task when Rowan was doing that with his tongue. He sucked on her clit which was already sensitive due to the lack of attention. She gasped and arched up once again as he worked her. Fingers still tangled in his hair she started pulling on the ends every time he did something that drove her crazy, which was everything.

Just as Aelin thought she was about to orgasm Rowan moved back up her body, leaving her pent up and driving her crazy. “I never make it that easy remember?” He teased as he kissed her, moving his tongue in his mouth so she could taste the same thing he had been devouring.

“I hate you,” Aelin whispered against his mouth causing Rowan to chuckle as he worked his pants down. Before she could complain anymore he was slipping inside her, replacing the spot his mouth had been. She groaned at the way he filled her, the way he made her feel so alive. Then he was pulling back and thrusting back in, pushing her right over the cliff she had been hanging on.

“Gods,” Rowan muttered as she clenched around him, he took a breath before moving in and out of her once again, building Aelin back up for a second orgasm. She dug her nails into his shoulders as she hung onto him, as she felt the pleasure radiating from him and flowing through her all over again.

He moved, pulling her legs higher up on his hips allowing his to brush that spot inside of her that always made her orgasm quickly. Aelin held onto his tighter as he worked her up, creating a new kind of pleasure he had never given her before. That was the one thing she loved most about sex with Rowan, each time was different and full of surprises.

Aelin went over the edge, biting into Rowan’s shoulder as he followed right behind her and then rolled onto his back. She moved onto her side, tracing lines over his abs as they both caught their breaths.

“Next time give a girl a warning!” Elide yelled causing both Aelin and Rowan to burst out laughing. Amazing how the day started awful and then ended like this with Rowan next to her and holding her just the way she liked. Maybe this trial wouldn’t be the worst thing Aelin thought as she closed her eyes and rested her head against Rowan’s chest.

Tag list:

@sleeping-and-books @deliciouslyuniquepizza @chemicha @myfeyrelady @kiss-my-maas @inrealliampain @chaoticskyy @wifeofchrishemsworth @schmlip-scribble @highqueenofelfhame @mybbyfeyre @acourtofbooksandtreasure @rhysieorbuzzard @rowaelinforeverworld @the-regal-warrior @nitrot150 @tswaney17 @highladyofidris @probablysomewhere-else @dayanna-hatter @thebitchupstairs @faerie-queen-fireheart @viajandosinalas @emmejo26 @city-of-fae @sezkins79 @unassumingsoda @hav-illi-ard @amylindle

(Let me know if you want to be tagged!)

101 notes · View notes