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viking-raider · 4 years ago

Text

The Crimson Moon *MATURE*

Summary: Your friend drags you out to a strip club for your birthday. But, you end up with more than just a lap dance from one mustached, blue-eyed stripper.

Pairing: August Walker/You

Word Count: 8,716

Rating: MATURE - Smut, Language, Lap Dances, Strippers, Stalking (if you squint hard enough) Oral - F Receiving, Light Dom!August, Light Bondage, Expeditionism, Unprotected Sex, Dirty Talk, Cream Pie, Double life

Inspiration: This Anon @littlefreya received (x)

Author’s Note: Tell me what you think!

Tag List: @jennylovelyheart, @peakygroupie, @jessevans, @rosie-loves-things, @ohjules, @mary-ann84, @omgkatinka, @the-freak-cassie-131, @wardl0w, @agniavateira, @cap-barnes, @romyr4, @michelehansel, @kaatelyyynn, @badassbaker, @mrsaugustwalker, @authentic-bish-face, @rizeandvibe, @severuined, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @bellastellaluna, @wondersofdreaming, @thisisntmyrightera, @michelle-1185, @winchwm, @royallylazy, @sofiebstar, @worldicreate, @bellastellaluna, @fantasygirlsuniverse, @witches-of-discovery-a, @xuxszx, @ayamenimthiriel, @keiva1000, @itsreigns, @constip8merm8, @scorpionchild81, @mylifefallingupthestairs, @onlyhenrys, @luclittlepond, @ellixthea, @lebguardians, @geralt-yennefer-jeskier, @cherrybloomn, @p3nny4urth0ught5, @iloveyouyen, @hollydaisy23, @mcuimagination, @psychosupernatural, @sweetlybigdragonn, @whitewolfandthefox, @moviemonzy, @the-soot-sprite, @hell1129-blog, @trippedmetaldetector, @captaingothgirl1996, @dont8mind8me8eue, @peaky-marvel, @desperate-and-broken21, @monstersnmoney, @dancingwendigo, @redhot-mystacism, @thereisa8ella, @black-ninja-blade, @oddduckthatgirl, @rosewinx, @henrythickcavill, @tinabean37, @hnryycvll, @msblkfire84, @romangenesius, @emelinelovesjc, @strangerliaa, @lovieebby, @pinksdaydream, @fanfictionaddiction99, @seb-owns-these-tatas, @oh-for-fic-sake, @sauvage-et-libre, @mis-lil-red, @angreav, @crazyandanonymous4u, @the-mighty-jellybean @henrycavell, @jimmypagesandbrianmayshair, @iam-laiya, @worshipping-skarsgard, @thetruthandotherstories, @ruthoakenshield, @lostinaseaoffictionalbliss, @theonetheycallhannah, @nina-skyee, @thatgirly81, @inanna999, @suueeeeeee, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @x-wingwarriorbbpoe8, @beckster07890, @daddys-littlewhitegirl, @magic-and-the-macabre, @stxphmxlls, @radaofrivia, @lostinaseaoffictionalbliss, @starstruckkittyangel, @heartfelt-pen, @stuckupstucky, @dummiesshort, @la-cey, @singeramg, @queenoftheworldisdead, @brooklymw, @raspberrydreamclouds

The Crimson Moon

Flashed the sign on the front of the building your friend was dragging you into.

The building, as the sign indicated, was a Crimson-Red color, accented with Charcoal-Black, the parking lot was dimly lit, giving the whole place a secretive and hushed vibe about it. You didn't want to go into it even more, the closer you got to it, even though you knew it wasn't like the seedy, Club O on 12th street, downtown. The Crimson Moon was a high-end and classy establishment, you needed a membership to enter this strip club, or you knew someone that one.

Enter your best friend, Baeli.

Baeli had an unapologetic obsession with men, typically, Chippendales, Firefighters or Cop type males. She had a reputation for going to the Crimson Moon and tipping the strippers so well, her membership was upgraded to Gold, which was how she was allowed to kidnap you and force you into going with her.

“Bae, I don't want to spend my birthday in a strip club.” You complained, sighing as you both stopped at the door leading inside.

“Oh, come on!” Baeli huffed, flipping her blond hair at you, the powerful wall of her perfume hitting you square in the nose. “Let's see one show, then we'll go somewhere you wanna spend your birthday.”

You gave her a dubious look, you had been friends with her since Grade One, and knew when she was talking out of her bleached ass.

“Pinkie swear.” She sighed, rolling her eyes and stuck her powdered-pink, French manicure pinkie finger out towards you.

Growling and rolling your eyes back, neither of you ever broke a pinkie swear. “Fine.” You groaned, hooking your plain pinkie finger with hers. “Pinkie swear, then we're going to Nathan's pub and getting shots.”

“Fine.” Baeli groaned, she hated going to Nathan's, but like how you sucked up going to the club with her, she'll suck up going to the pub with you.

“Card.” A beefy doorman growled, thrusting out his hand towards Baeli.

Baeli opened the clutch that hung from her forearm, revealing a huge wad of cash, there wasn't a bill lower than a ten amongst them. Fishing around the thick bundle of money, Baeli removed a glittering gold card, the name Crimson Moon written on it, over the image of red thumbnail moon, with her name and membership number.

“A pleasure to have you again, Ms. Evans.” The doorman said, swiping her card in a reader and handing it back to her, his almost mafia bodyguard demeanor washing away into a surprisingly polite and gentlemanly attitude.

“This is my guest.” Baeli said, smiling at you over her shoulder. “It's her birthday.” She added, with a sly smirk.

The doorman looked you over, lifting a brow at your black, knee length and sleeveless halter top dress, hugging your body just right with your black flats. You saw the corner of his lip twitch, and knew that you passed the club's strict dress code, it worked out with Baeli helping you decide what to wear on your birthday. You didn't care, if you were going to stay home and nurse a bottle of wine on your own, while watching ridiculous tv shows, you just wanted to feel gorgeous on your big day.

“Enjoy yourselves, ladies.” The doorman said, opening the blacked out door for you both, with a slight bow of his head. “Happy birthday.” He added quietly, as you walked by him and into the club.

“Thank you.” You whispered back as the door closed behind you.

Looking around, you felt the illusion of the club, it was larger on the inside than it was on the outside. The carpeting was dark red and black abstract, with spots of steel-gray. There were in-laid, circle lights in the floor, showing the way to the bar and to the seated section, right in front of the stage and a hallway off the side. The whole place was dimly lit, with the runner lights and turned down low sconces, as well as the various lights on the stage, to light the performance of the strippers.

Baeli grabbed your hand and guided you to the bar. “One rum and coke.” She told the single bartender. “And a mojito, please.”

The bartender nodded his head at her, silently, and started moving about, grabbing the two different glasses for the drinks and started building them, impressively, at the same time, using one hand for the mojito and the other for the rum and coke.

“That's pretty cool.” You commented, nodding your hand at him as he set a napkin on the bar top, then your rum and coke on it, setting it in front of you.

“Thanks.” He whispered, quietly, then moved on to another customer.

“Come.” Baeli said, taking a sip of her mojito through the teeny black straw, then turned towards the stage. “The next show is starting.” She informed you.

A smooth and deep voice came over an intercom system wired throughout the immaculate building, it smelled like sandalwood, money and unfulfilled fantasies. You followed Baeli to the front row, shocker, you thought. It wasn't that your best friend was a slut or anything, she just had a really strong fetish for men, even though, nine and a half times out of ten, they were complete losers, that treated her badly, had a criminal history or were married.

Didn't stop Baeli though.

“Welcome to the Crimson Moon, where you'll always be driven mad by our full moons.” the silky voice said, smoothly.

“Christ, that's cliché.” You snorted, sipping your drink and sitting down at the table with Baeli.

“Ssshh.” Baeli hushed you, annoyed.

“Tonight, we have just what every woman needs in her life, The Hammer.” The voice continued, dropping his tone to a low timber at the end of his sentence.

You looked over at Baeli, rolling your eyes at how stupid that sounded, a stripper named, 'the Hammer', did they have a Screwdriver and Power Saw, as well? But, Baeli was losing her mind, grinning like mad and bouncing in her seat, if her face got any redder with her excitement, you'd mistake her for a Crimson Moon.

“Oh, we're in so much luck!” She bubbled at you, with a full and toothy grin. “He is so handsome, a total hunk of man. He could fuck me through the floor and all I'd be able to do, is thank him and ask for more.”

“You say that about every man you encounter, Bae.” You replied, shaking your head at her, not at all impressed or excited, you looked forward to him doing his routine and getting out of here to get to Nathan's.

“I mean it with this one.” Baeli replied, unstoppable. “The Hammer is a total package, just you wait! By the time he finishes his routine, your panties will be soaked.” She beamed, then got a wolfish look on her face.

“That is, if you're wearing any.”

You narrowed your eyes at her in disgust. “I'm wearing underwear, you weirdo.” You huffed at her, shifting and feeling the elegant, lace panties you had on.

The lights lining the edge of the stage turned on and moved low against the stage, illuminating the floor and the simple black curtain backdrop. A low hum of music pumped through hidden speakers, you could feel the bass in your chest and the soles of your flats, it was a pleasant beat. Baeli fidgeted with excitement as the black satin curtain opened and you saw the biggest guy you had ever seen in your life. He was well over six foot, two hundred pounds of well packaged muscle, broad shoulders and chest. You were sure he was the reason the phrase, 'thick thighs save lives' was coined, they were as big around as tree trunks, held snug in the black slacks he wore. Your eyes trailed up his long legs, licking your lips as your eyes moved over his torso, he was moving slowly, rolling his hips as his big hands moved to the button of his shirt, nimble fingers gently pushing the clear button through the hole. You didn't know how the hell he managed it, but he somehow made unbuttoning a shirt sexy; you bit your lip as his chest slowly came into view as more buttons came undone.

Half of his buttons were free by the time your eye finally met his, and you felt your breath catch in your throat. 'Fuck, he's gorgeous'. His hooded Cerulean-Blue eyes met yours and a smirk tugged up the corner of his lip, a light scruff on his cheeks and sharp jawline with a well taken care of mustache. 'Damn it, Baeli.' you thought, feeling the slick warmth start to pool in your black lace panties. The smirk on his face grew, his attentive and observant eyes noticing the slight movements of your knees as you tried to ignore the tingling feeling there and the slightly embarrassed look in your eyes.

He let his now unbuttoned shirt slip off his arms, revealing thick and strong arms underneath. Your eyes flared as he smoothed his palms over his chest, the bump of his defined abs, and to the buckle of his belt.

“Oh god.” You whimpered into your drink, eyes glued to his hands as they tugged open the buckle of his belt, then slowly pulled the clearly expensive leather from the loops of his pants. “Oh Jesus.” You whined, chewing on your lip and unable to look away.

“I told you.” Baeli chuckled into your ear. “He must like you, his eyes haven't left yours, since he came on.”

“He's just doing his job.” You mumbled into your glass, your own eyes still locked on his.

His thumbs hooked into the waistband of his slacks and shoved them down, kicking them off the stage, and making some girl on the other side of the stage squeal, scrambling to grab them off the floor, but he was still focused on you, still gently moving as he stood there in a silk thong, that just barely contained his overflowing package.

“Oh good god.” You gasped, mouth falling open.

“That's right, honey!” Baeli yelled out, pulling out several large bills from the wad of cash in her clutch and stuffed them in the tip jar at the end of the stage, since you weren't allowed to touch the performers.

“I need another drink.” You squeaked, as you met his eyes again, then got up and rushed over to the bar, feeling his blue orbs follow you. “Rum and coke, extra rum.” You told the bartender as he approached you, throat tight.

When the bartender set your refilled glass down in front of you, you shamelessly chugged it down, trying to get the burning feeling your mind, and pussy, to go away with the strong and chilled beverage, but it didn't seem to work, the alcohol only heated your skin up even more. There was a room full of claps and whistles behind you, signaling the end of the man's dance, and relaxed as the sizzling feeling of his eyes on you vanished as he returned to the backstage.

“I think you might have hurt his feelings.” Baeli said, coming up behind you. “Rushing off like that.”

“I'm sure all the cash you practically threw at him will buffer that burn.” You told her, dabbing at your mouth with the napkin from under your glass. “Let's go.” You told her, setting your empty glass on the bar top, and turned towards her.

“We can't.” She frowned at you, shaking her head.

“Why the hell not?” You snapped at her, narrowing your eyes at her.

“Because, I set up a private lap dance for you.” She replied with an excited grin.

“Oh no.” You shook your head at her, licking your lip. “Absolutely not!”

“Absolutely yes.” She nodded back, getting annoyed with you. “That is an expensive dance, so you have to take it.”

“No, I don't. You do it and I'll wait in the car.”

“I can't, I'm not the birthday girl, you are.” Baeli shook her head at you and held out a key to you, dangling from a black and red moon shaped key tagged. “Off you go, or I'll drag you there by your hair.”

“Christ.” You huffed at her, snagging the key from her. “You and the hair pulling.” You chided her.

“The room number is on the tag.” She told you, grinning like she was sending you off to the wolves.

You looked down at the tag as you walked towards the hallway off the side of the stage where all of the private rooms were, and found Room Six. Biting your lip and taking a deep breath, you slotted the key into the door and stepped inside, closing it behind you. The room was decorated much like the rest of the club, but with a single comfortable chair and a closed circuit camera in one of the top corners of the room, and one other door across from you. Your heart was pounding against your ribs, you had never gotten a lap dance before, this was only your second time in a strip club, so you were uncomfortable. The door across from you opened and your heart started to beat even harder, seeing the blue eyed, mustached man from the stage step into the room with you.

“You.” He smirked at you, licking his upper lip as he closed his door.

“Yeah.” You squeaked, trembling, he was so much bigger up close.

He chuckled, seeing your nervousness and motioned to the chair. “Sit.”

Hesitating for a moment, you slipped into the chair, feeling even smaller compared to him now, melting into the chair as he stepped closer to you. He planted a hand on each of the arm rests and leaned down over you, bringing his face so close to yours, you saw the brown fleck in the upper corner of his blue eyes. He smelled so good, like dark vanilla, leather bound books and sandalwood from his beard and mustache oil; you were unconscious of slightly leaning towards him and taking in a stronger breath, wanting to be immersed in his scent. He smirked at you and leaned down closer, your nose deliciously close to the hollow of his neck and collarbone.

“I hear, it's your birthday.” He whispered softly into your ear.

“Yeah.” You nodded, enchanted and almost drugged by his scent and presence.

“Well, then.” He purred, his lips brushing your ear, the soft hairs of his mustache tickling the rim of your lobe. “I'll have to give you an extra bit of attention.” He cooed at you, fingertips meeting the sensitive spot behind your opposite ear and smoothed down the side of your neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Birthday girl.” His voice was husky, his hot breath warming your chilled skin and making you shiver.

“Sweet Jesus.” You whimpered, feeling the heat of his breath rippling through your body and to your pussy, drenching your panties even more, and you were sure, as you watched his eyes darken, that he could smell it.

“Not Jesus, birthday girl.” He chucked, moving back some, his hands moving to the collar of his shirt, he had clothed himself since his performance, you couldn't remember how long ago. “Just the Hammer.” He murmured, his voice smooth like chocolate.

“Do you usually go to strip clubs on your birthday?” He asked, undoing another button.

“No.” You whispered, out of breath and hyper-focused on his rapidly appearing chest, that your hands tingled to be able to touch. “I usually stay home or go to Nathan's pub.” You mumbled, brain going on autopilot.

“Doesn't sound very fun.” He rasped, tugging one side of his now unbuttoned shirt from where it was tucked into his ridiculously tight waistband.

“I don't like celebrating.” You goggled at his exposed torso.

“Hm.” He hummed with a sly smirk, wrapping a big hand around your wrist and pulled up your hand so you pressed your palm flat against his chest.

Despite the heat in the room,—was the room hot or was it you—his skin was cool to the touch, like he has been sitting under a pleasant air conditioner before coming into the room. You whimpered softly, pressing your hand firmer to his groomed, but hairy, chest and slid down, feeling the nub on his nipple harden under the heat of your palm, before rubbing your thumb over each bump of his six-pack. Smirking, he tugged the other side of his shirt free, gently grinding against you and tossing his shirt over the back of your chair.

“Go on.” He purred, lips brushing your warm cheek. “I know you want to touch me more than that.” He whispered into your ear, before taking it between his pearly-whites.

“Is that even allowed?” You found yourself asking, without meaning too.

“It's private, we can do damn near anything in here,” he hummed low in his throat. “As long as we're both consenting.” He added, softer, sending a shiver down your back.

Your other hand reached up and gripped that etched hip peeking out from the top of his slacks and dug your nails into his skin, making him hiss and bite your neck, all the while, pressing closer to you, one hand braced on the back of the couch and the other cupping your neck. You felt the firm and long rub of something, then noticed the very visible bulge straining his slacks, inches from you, and panicked. You planted both hands on his chest and pushed him away, jumping up from the chair, all flustered and embarrassed.

“I'm sorry.” You squeaked, making for the door.

Sighing heavily, but smiling at your shy and hasty departure, he plucked his shirt from the back of the chair and exited out of the door he came in through.

“So, how was it?” Baeli asked, sitting at the bar, while she waited for you. “It wasn't very long.”

“It was long enough.” You told her, muddled. “Can we go to Nathan's now?” You asked her, almost begging, you wanted to get out of the Crimson Moon in case, the Hammer, decided to follow after you.

Baeli rolled her eyes, but nodded her head. “All right, fine.” She sighed, slapping a fifty on the bar top and headed for the door.

Relieved, you followed Baeli back out to her car and slipped into the passenger seat, you watched the Crimson Moon sink into the distance as Baeli drove you both to the pub, twenty minutes away. With a sigh, you slipped into a booth seat at Nathan's Pub, which had been your watering hole since college, the alcohol was decent, the staff was incredible and the food was spot on, what else would you want out of an establishment?

Importantly, no hot men grinding on you and making you question your morals.

You and Baeli shared a drink and the waitress, who knew you quite well, showed up at your table with a slice of cake, a single candle burning on it, then several other staff, a couple patrons and Baeli sang you a round of happy birthday, before clapping and giving you hugs after blowing the candle out. You chuckled, digging into the overly sweet cake, sharing it with Baeli, and forgetting all about the strip club.

“All right, birthday girl.” Baeli yawned, finishing off her plain, diet coke. “I'm ready to go, how about you?” She asked, making sure she had her car keys.

“You go on home, I'm going to stay a little bit longer, I'll Uber home.” You told her, still nursing the Daiquiri you ordered.

“You sure?” She frowned, she hated to leave you alone like this on your birthday.

“I'm positive.” You nodded, giving her a reassuring smile.

“All right, I'll call you in the morning.” She nodded back, giving you a quick hug and headed out.

You finished your drink, and left a tip for the staff, since Baeli paid the bill, then headed outside to find a good spot to have an Uber pick you up and take you home.

“You know, I was quite surprised by you.” A silky voice said behind you. “I wouldn't have taken you as the rude type, not allowing me to finish my work, twice.”

You yelped in surprise and dropped your phone on the asphalt, spinning around to see the tall stripper behind you, the Hammer. “Are you following me?” You squeaked, slowly bending down to pick up your phone, never taking your eyes off of him.

“I really don't like unfinished business.” He replied, folding his arms over his chest and leaning his shoulder against the brick wall at the side of Nathan's.

“Too bad.” You replied, gulping and looking around, hoping someone would come out of the pub and into the parking lot.

“I'm not going to hurt you.” He told you, lifting a brow as your uneasiness.

“Yeah, sure.” You huffed at him, trying to fake confidence. “You only follow me twenty minutes from your work and wait for me to come out, to confront me, alone, in a parking lot, in the middle of the night.

He chuckled at you. “When you put it that way.” He smirked, licking his lips in a way that had you feeling that heat again. “But, if I wanted to kidnap or harm you, you would already be in my car.” He told you, with such a steely confidence and an amused blankness to his face and eyes, you felt a chill join the growing heat of your body.

“W-what do you want?” You mumbled, biting your lip.

“To finish what I started.” He smirked at you, his eyes racking over you. “It is still your birthday, for another-” He looked at his watch. “Two hours.” He smirked and crossed his arms again. “Come on, I promised to give you extra attention, and intend too. Promise, I won't disappoint or do anything you don't want.”

You stared at this man and felt your morals slip, it was your birthday after all, why the hell shouldn't you make the most of it with a hot guy. “Where?” You asked him, taking a deep breath.

“I have a good neutral place.” He told you, pushing off the wall and motion to a stupidly nice car.

“Um,” You frowned at him, then activated the screen of your phone, texting Baeli.

» Met a guy at Nathan's, sharing my location.

» Is he cute?

Rolling your eyes, you shoved your phone into the little pocket in your dress and looked back at him, he had opened the passenger door for you, which surprised you, a guy had never done that for you before.

“Thanks.” You muttered, slipping into the seat.

“Of course.” He chuckled, then closed your door and went around to the driver's side.

“What's your name?” You asked, looking over at him.

“Why?” He frowned at the road.

“I don't want to call you 'the Hammer' for the next two hours.” You retorted, lifting a brow at him.

“Hm.” He huffed, amused. “Most people call me, Walker.” He replied.

“What do your friends call you?”

“Walker.” He answered, his tone plain and guarded.

“What did your mother call you?”

Walker looked over at you as the car rolled to a stop at a red light. “Nothing that a child should be called.” He replied, tightly.

“Walker, it is then.” You gulped, after a momentary pause.

“And yours?” Walker asked, turning a corner as the light changed back to green.

You told him your name.

“It's a lovely name.” He complimented you.

“Thanks.” You smiled, shyly brushing your hair behind your ear. “That's your neutral ground?” You asked, seeing the highest end hotel the city had come into view.

“It is.” Walker nodded with a sly smirk.

“How does a stripper afford a super expensive car and an even more expensive hotel?” You asked him, following him into the lobby.

Walker smiled at you, stopping at the reception counter. “Pent suite.” He told the clerk, holding out a gold American Express card to him.

“Of course, Mr. Walker.” the Clerk replied, setting it up.

Your mouth was hanging open as you watched him swipe the card and hand it back to Walker, surprised that the man knew his name and the price on the screen for the room. But, Walker was unphased by all of it, taking back his card and motioning you in front of him, towards the lifts.

“That's a lot of money for two hours.” You choked, stepping into the lift with him.

“Not for the Birthday girl.” Walker replied, smiling smugly at you, and hit the top floor button.

“Are you always like this, when someone doesn't let you finish?” You asked, following him down the hall at the very top floor and to a set of double doors.

“No, you're the first woman that's never let me finish a performance.” He replied, swiping the room key in the door reader and pushed it open, politely letting you enter the elegant suite first.

“First for everything, I suppose.” You answered, looking around the room, mouth hanging open.

“True.” Walker nodded, looking you over as you walked around, licking his lips, like he was thirsty and you were a refreshing drink. “Here, sit down.” He said softly, grabbing a chair and setting in the middle of the room.

Sighing, you did as he said and sat down in the chair, then watched him loosen the clearly expensive silk tie he was wearing, and stepped around behind you, pulling your arms back and using the tie to bind your wrists together. You started to panic and breathe hard, feeling the soft fabric tighten, securely.

“Calm down.” Walker purred at you, soothingly. “I can't have you running off for a third time, can I?” He asked, coming around the chair to face you. “That's just so incredibly rude.” He told you, shaking his head at you.

“Is it too tight?” He asked, watching you try and calm yourself with deep breaths.

“No.” You gasped, biting your lip.

“Good.” He nodded, with a sweet smile. “All settled?” He asked, stroking your cheek in an oddly soothing way.

“Ye-yeah.” You nodded, finally getting your heart rate under control.

“Very good.” He smiled a bit more, the back of his fingers trailing from your cheek to your neck, then down the swell of your breasts, liking the way your bra pushed them up. “Hm.” He hummed, watching the rise and fall of your chest quicken again, but for a completely different reason.

“If I do anything you don't like, or if you want to stop,” He explained, rubbing his thumb over your lips. “All I want you to say is one word.”

“What word?” You asked, pressing your thighs together to stop the slick heat from raising again, and failing.

“Cake.”

“Okay.” You nodded, feeling that cliché.

“Say it.” Walker pressed you, sternly.

“Cake.” You repeated the word with a gulp.

“Very good.” He smiled and gently pat you on the head with, what you supposed was his attempt at, a wink. “Now, where was I before you interrupted me?” He hummed, pressing his lips together and tapping his middle finger against his stubbly chin.

“That's right.”

Turning on his heels, August pulled his phone out of his pocket and over to a Bluetooth speaker that came with the room. Pairing the two up, he scrolled through his vast and diverse music playlists, until he found a song he wanted and pressed play, setting his phone down next to the speaker, he turned back to you. Smiling, he rested his foot on the seat of a chair that was identical to the one he had you tied to, removed the laces of his dress shoes and neatly tucked them under the foot of the huge bed in the room, then took off his socks and rolled them up, neatly stuffing them into his shoes. Satisfied with that, Walker moved closer to you, your knees brushing his shins.

“You're quite beautiful, you know that.” He complimented you, resting his hand on the back of your chair, his lips brushing your ear, cheek and then your lips.

“Thank you.” You sighed, eyes rolling shut at the soft feel of his supple lips and the intoxicating scent of his body.

“You're welcome.” He purred, before giving you a chasten kiss on the lips.

You moaned against his mouth, he tasted sweet and minty. Chuckling, Walker moved slightly away, his hands unbutton his shirt before your eyes, for the third time that night. You almost pouted at the fact your arms were tied behind you, wanting to touch his body again, and Walker saw that look in your eyes.

“Patience, love.” He cooed at you, letting his shirt slip off his arms and to the floor. “If you behave, I'll untie you, and you can touch me all you want.” He promised, cupping your cheek in his hand, thumb rubbing your lips, before pressing inside your mouth for a moment, letting you suck on the tip of his digit for a second, before pulling his hand away, teasing you.

His movements were slow, fluid and calculated. You were learning that was the kind of person Walker was, he took his time, and he managed that time well, like a General in the military would. He touched your face, arms and upper body as he moved around you, only occasionally brushing your thighs and knees, pushing up the edge of your dress with each touch, until he could just see the hint of your soaked panties. His hands left you, with a whine of protest, he chuckled and dropped his hands to his pants, he wasn't wearing a belt this go around, so popping open the button of his slacks was simple, but he made a painfully slow show out of unzipping them and pushing them down his tree trunk thighs.

You expected the thong he had been wearing for his on stage routine, but, unfortunately, he was wearing boxer briefs. But even that much material wasn't enough to hold back the creature Walker had living inside of them, he was large and incredibly hard inside of them, a small damp spot on them from where the tip of his cock rested.

“You see what you've done.” He asked you, following your eyes to the wet spot. “You've teased me twice tonight, leaving me hard as a block of marble.”

“I'm sorry.” You found yourself blurting out, without conscious thought, eyes glued to his confined dick, it had been months since you had sex, and that was underwhelming, at best.

“Not yet, you're not.” Walker laughed, slipping the tips of his fingers into his boxers and stroking his shaft, the wet spot growing. “You want me to take them off?” He asked, fisting himself, unashamed.

“Please.” You nodded, licking your lips, dying for the sight of it.

“Hm.” He hummed, squatting in front of you, hands resting on your knees. “Let's see just how much you want to see me naked, shall we?” He asked, lifting a brow at you and slipped a hand between your legs, sliding it home to palm the drenched fabric of your panties.

“Shit.” You gasped, hips shamefully rubbing against his palm, a mind of their own.

“Oh, how wet the Birthday Girl is.” He teased you, ghosting the pad of his middle finger against your clothed clit. “You must really want to see me naked.” He chuckled, licking his lips and rubbing harder.

“Oh god, Walker.” You begged him, squeezing your legs together to keep his hand against your pussy. “Please.”

“You want me this bad, and yet, you ran away, twice.” He tutted at you, pulling his hand free, and stood.

“I'm sorry.” You croaked, eyes wide and desperate. “I was just frightened and overwhelmed, I didn't expect this.” You explained, you still didn't expect it, and part of you was berating yourself for getting into this situation, but there was nothing for it now, you were hot, wet and horny, and you wanted Walker to finish his lap dance, and give you whatever else he had in mind.

Or, in his boxers, for that matter.

“I'm sure you didn't.” He answered, his voice rough and dripping with arousal.

The tempo of the song picked up and Walker started slowly dancing and moving, surprising you with how agile his tall and muscular body was, he was in such complete control of himself and every teeny little thing he did, you couldn't help the enthralled and turned on expression on your face and in your eyes. As the song and his dance came to a close, Walker knelt before you, resting his hands on your shaky knees, pushing your dress up and spread your legs wide, the cool air of the room wafted against the wet fabric, making you shiver in response. Walker smirked, petting your folds through your panties and you shivered even more, moaning.

“So impatient.” He cooed at you, slipping a finger into the side of your undies and caressing your slick and dripping folds.

“Fuck.” You moaned, bucking against his finger, choking down a gulp.

“Push on your toes and lift your hips.” Walker instructed you, removing his hand from between your legs.

You did as he told you and felt his strong fingers wrap around the waistband of your panties and slip them off of you, then carefully removed your flats, tucking them in beside his own. You gasped, feeling his warm lips on the cool skin at the inside of your thigh, the tickle of his mustache and stubble had you letting out a breathy giggle, only to melt into a deep moan, from Walker placing wet kisses, nibbles and love bites all over your thighs. You were starting to get impatient again, wanting his mouth on your pussy all ready, straining against the tie wrapped around your wrists, you were surprised by how well he bound and tied you.

“Ow!” You let out in a breathy yelp.

“Stop doing that.” He scolded you, feeling you fidget. “You'll cut off the circulation in your hands.”

“Well, if you stop fucking teasing me.” You retorted back.

“I'll tease you all I want.” Walker remarked with a sly smirk. “You're the one tied to the chair.” He reminded you, like you had forgotten.

You grinned back at him, cheeks warm and shaking your head.

Chuckling, Walker started all over again, and took even longer this time to reach your folds, leaving bite marks, hickies and beard burn behind. You opened your legs even wider, panting, as his warm breath tickled your wet folds, your head fell back as he gave your clit a sharp flick of his tongue, toes curling intp the short carpet under your feet. Walker pressed a lewd kiss to your pussy, suckling your clit with maddening expertise and leisure, his hands gripped your hips and pinned you to the chair, stopping your desperate wiggles to fuck his face. His licks grew more and more, until he was licking the full length of your pussy with his long and broad tongue, swirling it around your clit and delving into the weeping entrance of your core, collecting your juices on his tongue and swallowing with deep rumbles of satisfaction of how good you tasted.

“You definitely taste better than Birthday Cake.” He moaned, lapping at your pussy.

You laughed, nervously. “Th-thanks.” You whimpered, a complete mess under his skilled mouth.

“I'm still shocked.” He purred between licks. “You're so polite, yet, you're so willing to ditch someone just trying to do their job.” He laughed, then gave your pussy several long and firm lips, sending you skating over the edge.

“Fuck, Walker!” You cried out, twitching and straining against your bonds, leaving a sticky mess between your legs, his mouth and mustache, and all over the seat beneath you, your eyes fluttering shut.

“That is the best damn orgasm I have ever had.” You commented, after semi recovering yourself.

Walker chuckled, smugly proud of himself as he moved around you and tugged the knot of the tie free, your numb arms falling heavily to your sides, releasing the strain on your shoulders. Walker's broad hands rested on your shoulders and started massaging your tense muscles, working his thumbs up and down your neck and between your shoulder blades, kneading and making you feel even more like puddy under his attention. His hands moved away from you and you heard the rustle of clothing behind you and every hair on your body stood on end, seeing his boxers come flying over your head and land on the floor with his discard pants and shirt.

“Stand up.” He rasped directly into your ear.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you could stand up, your legs felt like weak water balloons, but you slowly rose to your feet and your chair was pulled farther back. You didn't turn around to face Walker, the last remnants of your shyness holding you back from seeing him fully naked. His hands suddenly appeared on your back again, grabbing the zipper to the back of your dress and pulling it down, then pushed the straps off your shoulders, the black material of your dress pooled at your feet, like a black hole; followed by your matching push up bra. You hugged your arms to your bare chest and gulped, Walker wrapped his arms around you and pressed an open mouthed kiss to your neck, hugging you back against him, allowing you to feel every square inch of his chiseled and naked body.

“You're even more beautiful naked.” He hummed against the skin of your neck and shoulder, then turned you to face him. “Don't be shy.” He chuckled, grabbing your wrists and gently pulled your arms away from your chest. “Nothing I haven't seen before.” He assured you, bending his head forward to press a kiss to each other of your breasts, reaffirming his words.

Wrapping your arms around his neck and resting his hands on your hips, Walker picked you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, and carefully turned, pressing your back against the wall beside you. Your ass rested right on top of his rock hard cock as he braced his knees against the wall and your eyes widened, 'fuck, he's huge'. You gulped, blinking at him. Walker smirked and wiggled his brows at you, his confidence was as palpable as the rest of his body, he reached beneath you and grasped his shaft and rubbed the tip against your sticky and still wet pussy, both of you moaning in unison. Chests heaving against each other, Walker slowly guided his uncut cock inside of your core, then let your body weight sink you the rest of the way on its own, wanting you to feel that slow stretch as his thick shaft opened you even wider, every long inch being molded to your core.

“You are perfectly snug around my cock.” He purred, biting into your neck and sucking hard. “Your sweet little pussy doesn't wanna let me go, does it.” He growled against your jugular, biting you even harder, you were shocked he didn't draw blood.

“No.” You moaned, shaking your head and hugging your arms tighter around his neck; you didn't want to let him go.

Walker bucked up into you, spearing into your cervix like a hot knife and had you calling out his name, not caring how loud you were and if any of the other suites on the floor heard. His thrusts were measured and rough, pulling you down as he drove himself up, the dresser along the table next to you rattled and the objects on top of it jumped with each thrust and clattered to the floor. The whole room was filled with sounds spilling out from you and Walker, slapping skin, shaking furniture and knocking over objects.

“Yes, yes.” You panted and cried, holding onto Walker and understanding why he was called the Hammer. “Fuck, Walker. Fill me, please, for fuck sake, fill me.” You begged him, racking your nails down his shoulders and sweaty back, drawing spots of blood.

Grunting and hammering you harder, Walker obliged your request and sent both of you spiraling into a tandem orgasm and miraculously not through the wall. His flushed face and sweaty forehead fell heavily to your shoulder, his huffing breath washing over the skin of your collarbone and breast. You rested your head back against the wall, trying to catch your own breath and settling your pounding and screaming heart rate, with a throb between your legs from Walker's furious thrusting. Breath caught, Walker pulled both of you off the wall and carried you, like a limp koala, into the huge bathroom suite, setting you down on the heated toilet seat, then turned to the deep soaking tub and spinning on the hot tap.

“If this is how you treat women that run out on your performances, then I might turn into a regular dance and dash customer of yours.” You chuckled, sinking into the warm and soapy water, feeling the jets massage your exhausted and drained body.

Walker chuckled, shaking his head at you and stepped out of the bathroom, picking up his discarded clothes, carefully folding them, and cleaned up the mess on the floor. He picked your dress up off the floor and felt the pocket vibrate. Frowning, he pulled the device out and the screen lit up, showing off a text from someone called Baeli and the notification of your location share.

“Smart girl.”

He chuckled, smirking, then turned the share off, before folding your dress and set it on the dresser with your ruined panties and bra, your phone on top of them. “Are you hungry?” Walker called out to you, opening the double doors of the private balcony the room had; but you didn't answer him.

Frowning, Walker stepped back into the bathroom and chuckled, shaking his head, seeing you had dozed off, while enjoying your nice, hot bath.

You hadn't realized you fell asleep, until you woke up an hour later, under a layer of blankets. But, that wasn't what had woken you, what woke you was the low murmur of a voice that sounded very angry. Walker's voice, with someone he was clearly on the phone with.

“I don't care.” Walker hissed between clenched teeth, as he stood on the balcony. “I fucking told you, Royce. I want the rest of the Apostles on this. If any, and I mean, any, of them fuck this up for me, I will kill them.” He growled, gripping the balcony railing to try and keep his voice and temper under control.

“Do you understand? I would do it myself, if the CIA didn't have me undercover.”

It seemed like the person Walker was talking to had promised to do what he expected of them, because he visibly relaxed.

“Good. Call me in the morning and tell me how it went.” Walker sighed, running a hand through his disheveled and wind swept curls.

You closed your eyes as he hung up and leaned against the railing, not wanting him to feel your eyes on him or to know you had woken up at an apparently important section of his phone call. Your stomach was in knots, who were the Apostles? Was he really an undercover CIA? Was being a stripper part of that cover, or just a side job he got a kick out of? That must have been why he had so much money. Your brain screamed for you to jump up right there, yank on your clothing and run like hell from this apparently more dangerous man than you thought he was, but your body was still heavy as a rock from all the drinks you consumed over the night of your birthday and the mind blowing sex, so you only ended up falling back to sleep, as Walker turned around and entered the room again, unaware of your being awake or knowing what you now knew.

Waking again a few hours later, it was early morning, but still dark outside, an arm slung over your waist, hugging you against the solid, breathing wall of Walker's chest. Biting your lip, you carefully wiggled out of Walker's arms and to the edge of the bed, before you risked sitting up and stood, turning around to face him. He was relaxed and softly snoring on his side, his handsome face so soft you finally noticed the dark circles under his long lashes, the thick muscles of his arms and chest slack, he didn't seem as dangerous as you thought as you fell back to sleep after his phone call on the balcony.

Maybe, you had just dreamt it.

He gave you no indication of wanting to hurt you, and he had plenty of opportunities to do so throughout the night. Walker had done quite the opposite, he had been gentle, careful and mindful of you. He could have forced himself on you in the private room at the Crimson Moon, he could have done anything to you when he showed up at Nathan's, obviously annoyed by you running off before your lap dance was done, and he could have seriously hurt you once he got you into this hotel room, but again did nothing you didn't want and was quite sweet by drawing you a bath and putting you to bed after you fell asleep.

Sighing, you moved to the dresser, where he had folded your clothes and slipped your bra and panties on, then stepped out onto the balcony, the doors still open and letting in the cool night air. Resting your forearms against the railing and leaning forward, you looked down the dizzying thirty floors to the street below, a trickle of cars slowly thickening as people got up and started their days, rushing off to work or wherever else, which reminded you, you had to get home and get ready for your shift in four hours. Huffing, you shook your head, 'fuck that', you'd just call in sick and take the day off.

“Penny for your thoughts.” Walker's voice rasped behind you.

You glanced at him over your shoulder, finding him standing, butt naked, at the threshold of the balcony. “Just thinking that I have work in four hours, and how I want to call in sick.” You replied, looking back over the skyline.

“Perhaps you should.” He commented, stepping out onto the balcony with you, his hands resting on your hips and kneading them. “You deserve it.” He whispered, rubbing his soft cock against your ass.

“Do I?” You snorted, shaking your head and pushing back against him.

“I think so.” He rasped, touching the side of his foot to the inside of yours and pushed your leg out, until your chest was pressed to the railing and you leaned over it, slightly.

“Walker.” You gasped, eyes wide as you got even more dizzy from the height.

“Hush.” He cooed, then promptly ripped your underwear off of you.

“Walker!” You barked, surprised and annoyed, you were starting to rethink his threat level, when he filled you up with his cock again.

“I'll replace them.” Walker laughed, wrapping your hair around one hand and pulled your head back. “I can afford something better for you to wear, anyway.” He whispered into your ear, and started thrusting into you, your hips rubbing harshly against the railing, and his strong fingers rubbing your still sore clit.

Afterwards, You let Walker carry you back to bed and melted into his big arms and broad chest. “Is your cover really going to be blown, August?” You asked, coming off the high that had started the afternoon before.

“So, you were awake.” August laughed, brushing his fingers through your hair. “But, no, love. My cover is just fine, like it always is. Some of the Apostles are just being idiots, but I've put them back in their rightful places.”

“Under your size eleven boot.” You laughed, tilting your head back to look up at your beloved boyfriend.

“Exactly, sweetheart.” He chuckled back, kissing the tip and bridge of your nose. “Did you have a good birthday?” He asked, stroking the side of your face.”

“Mission: Crimson Moon, was bloody fantastic.” You assured him, kissing his stubbly jawline. “You make a damn good stripper, by the way.” You added, trailing your fingertips up and down his torso.

“It's no wonder why Sloane put you undercover there.”

You and August had met, while both of you were on separate missions, three years before, that ended up colliding together and you and August became nearly inseparable. Where one of you was, the other wasn't long off or far from. August worked as the CIA's best assassin. You worked a bit more free lance, bouncing between the CIA and MI-6, or sometimes for a private sector or person, if the money paid well enough. After your first year of dating August, when he finally trusted you without condition, he let you in on his 'John Lark' secret, how he was moonlighting as the top leader to the Apostles, the group that formed after the fall of the Syndicate, with Solomon Lane.

You were shocked at first, but the more you thought about it, the more it really made sense, August was calculated in everything he did, from work life to private life, he was distant and cold, almost cruel, if you didn't have the pleasure of being in his trusted inner circle. He had feared, an extremely rare trait in August Walker's vocabulary, that once you found out about his true dealings, you would leave him, he didn't worry about you outing him and blowing his cover, he knew you wouldn't, no matter how hurt and shocked you were, you had your own secrets and knew the value of keeping them that way.

A secret.

But, you didn't leave him, you loved him; even his faults.

You made him promise to never talk about the Apostles' business around you, unless you asked him about it, the less you knew about his works as the Head Apostle, the less of it could be pulled out of you and used to harm him, should anyone decide to use you as a pawn against August. Which, you weren't worried about either, people, from high governments to the cockroaches knew better than to fuck with you, even more so knowing that if they did do something to hurt or compromise you, August would be at their doorstep a moment later.

“Well, the job there is almost done, then only you will be getting a lifetime membership to my lap dances.” He told you with a smug grin, rolling onto his back and pulling you on top of him.

“I better be, August Walker.” You told him, pushing yourself up to straddle his waist, hands braced on his chest. “I'm the only one, this Hammer gets to nail.” You laughed, rubbing against his flaccid cock, waking it up for another round.

#The Crimson Moon *Fic*#The Crimson Moon #August Walker/You #August Walker #August Walker/Reader #Henry Cavill #HenryCavill #Viking-Raider Fics #Henry Cavill Requests #Mature #Rating: Mature #Not Smut #Language #Dom!August #Stripper!August #Birthday Girl #John Lark

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speedypandaweasel · 3 years ago

Text

Loki Angst (3.5K Words)

Ever since Loki Ep 4 came out, I've been having a strong Maladaptive daydream to the ending credits song. So in true fashion, I'm going to write it here. Enjoy.

When reading, this story is in no way accurate to whats happened in the series so far, this was purely out of my imagination.

Song Inspiration - If You Love Me by Brenda Lee

~~~

Asgard's golden walls glistened proudly with streamers and its pillars blossomed with decorative flowers and fruit. The floor must have been cleaned until someone's fingers bled because when you looked down from the higher floor, you couldn't make up your mind as to which side of the arriving guests was the reflection. The small congregation was accompanied by floating champagne glasses and flowing fabrics of satin and silk, their laughs and high-class conversations wafted through the halls as you watched on in awe.

You knew you weren't exactly a part of this society, let alone this world, but you wanted to at least experience something like this. Watching from afar, you still needed to get changed into your dress for tonight. As for Loki and Sylvie, you hadn't seen them, so you wandered through the long hallways on your own.

Whilst wandering past small fruit and nut bowls displayed in the marble corridors, you thought as to what was happening between your two friends. Things had subtly changed between the three of you and even though they did their best, you knew something had happened between them. They would hopefully tell you though since you had known Loki ever since you could remember, and the thought of him keeping you out in the cold on a secret sent shivers up your spine. Sure, people can keep things to themselves but this felt - different, it put a strain on your friendship and you had the thought that maybe it was your fault that they became distant from you. Did you say something or do something that they weren't a fan of? You didn't like to think like that but it felt like your only option.

You pushed open your door and closed it behind you, making sure to lock it. The cold summers breeze met your face as you drifted over to the small window overlooking the wonderful scene that was graciously displayed below you. Accompanied by the royal gardens, you breathed in a sigh, as your eyes settled on the stars that trickled over Asgard like glitter on a golden trophy, and made sure to capture every single feature the Realm happened to have. You felt like you were home, yet your brain knew that you weren't. The reminder: The Bifrost. It sat in the very distance, its attention gravitating towards you like a persistent magnet, propelling you to come back to your true home and yet, you continued to push back, making sure you stayed here a little longer, just to see things out.

All the while, your hands sneaked their way to your neck, fiddling with a necklace that Loki gave you from your younger years. It became a habit of yours when you were worried about something, and the mischievous scamp had caught you out on it a few times, which then lead you to spill every worry out in front of him. He practically knew everything that you were afraid of and you were secretly proud to say that you knew things about Loki even Thor didn't know about. You two had a lot of history together and you couldn't imagine it any other way, but it wasn't until later that the two of you became a trio. Sylvie was a nice person but the resemblance of her next to Loki was oddly similar, and you still hardly knew anything about her - even to this day. But Loki seemed comfortable around her and when he was happy, you were. The three of you had a lot of fun together and tonight was going to be one of them again, having fun and messing around with anything you could get your hands on. It would probably be the fruit or Odin's staff like last time.

Contemplation was caught short when you heard a knock at the door. You tucked the necklace in your shirt, slid the window shut and closed the curtain. Walking over to the door, you opened it to a smiling Sylvie. Her black outfit was muddy all over and her hair was frazzled, yet her face held the joy of a child which was a new look on her.

Inviting her in, she strode in and sat on your bed, the clean mattress became mucky as her boots trailed in mud from outside. Her stubborn demeanour had dropped and she was talking about something that you didn't quite understand. You stopped her mid-sentence as you calmed her down, telling her to breathe slowly in and out. This was completely new and unrehearsed between the two of you as she started to wind down.

"Is this what you're wearing tonight?" She asked, "It looks nice" stroking the gown carefully.

"Thanks" You replied "Are you going tonight?"

"Yes, I am."

"Awesome! We can get up to all sorts of things tonight! We can steal the fruit, tip some hard liquor into the drinks, or maybe we could-"

"Actually, I don't feel like doing that type of stuff tonight" Sylvie interrupted you this time. "Could we have just one normal night? Like civilly?"

You were taken back. She had never said no to mischief before. This became strangely scary for you. Is this the same Sylvie you knew? She seemed so... mature.

"Oh, oh ok. That's fine." You said. "You better go and get dressed! You definitely need to go and have a bath!" You laughed.

Leading her to the door again, you let Sylvie pass through. An uneasy feeling settled as you watched her float down the hallway, the same grin plastered on her face.

What was going on with her? And where was Loki? He should be in the Palace by now? He was probably with Odin, or Thor letting guests in.

You turned back to face your room and walked towards your long vanity. Its clean mirror and your makeup kit sat proudly upon it, eagerly ready to be used. Sitting down at the station, applying your makeup routine always made you feel like you were going to a grand ball. Well, you were, but the feeling of actually going made butterflies break that pit in your stomach. You gazed at your own reflection, one of a goddess staring back at you. It was one of those surreal moments when you felt like the baddest bitch of them all, feeling like no one could ever stop you from doing anything.

The gown you had picked out slipped off the hanger pricelessly as you delicately slipped it on. Its expensive fabric clasped your figure elegantly as you zipped up the back, making extra sure that it didn't snag on anything. The makeup was wonderfully done and the hair was styled on your head just so, but there was one thing missing.

You untucked the necklace and layed it on top. Perfect.

Doing a small twirl with your heels on, you stood in front of the closets' large mirror for a minute, taking in your gorgeous outfit for the night. Tonight was the night you felt like a princess.

You grabbed your clutch as you glided out of the, now dim hallway. The main light now coming from the grand hall as it coaxed you its way, making your gown glisten with its warm appeal.

Finally basking in its glory, you peered down at the fully decorated hall. So many people had gathered as you watched on again, spotting Odin and Thor right below you, yet no sign of the other God. You stayed up the higher floor, weaving through the bannisters to see if you could catch a glimpse of the green cape. The orchestra played beautiful symphonies as you swayed on from above, fiddling with the golden chain. You slowly got carried away by the addicting melody as you glided down the grand staircase, blending in with the Asgardian crowd. People were beginning to look at you with admiration and smiles started to appear in front of you. You embarrassingly smiled and nodded back, trying to fit in with the night greetings.

You reached your hand onto a passing wine glass tray as you stepped to the outskirts of the crowd, allowing your heated face to cool and your breathing to slow. It had only been a couple hours and you were already flustered. But where were Loki and Sylvie?

You squeezed your way back through the large assembly as you crept up the stairs once more, getting slightly worried as to where the two were.

"There she is!" A familiar face grinned.

You turned and met with the face of Loki, his hair gelled back and that all too familiar smirk brought a chuckle to your lips. He stood at the top of the staircase, dominating the space around him. People had started to notice the young God positioned above them and started to utter whispers and occasional glances.

Your eyes studied his features like a book. The Emerald and Gold colour scheme never seemed to fade on him and his cape shadowed behind his tall and broad shoulders courageously like it always did. The addicting cologne lulled you into a warm embrace, his arms wrapped around you shallowly. Loki never was one for hugs but he didn't mind breaking his "reputation" for you. The gesture ended too soon as Loki scanned the grand room, his daring eyes searching for something. He turned to you.

Mischief chuckled. his eyes filled with amusement. "I should think so, she should be fine this evening, however."

"Have you seen Sylvie? I need to speak with her?"

"Uh, no I don't sorry, but she was acting a little strange earlier today. She was all smiley and a little too happy. Is everything alright with her?"

You nodded, taking his words with a pinch of salt.

"Speak of the lady." You muttered.

Sylvie glided up behind him and suddenly, everything went mute. Nothing but the sounds of your heartbeat entered your ears as you stared. The crisp sound of the orchestra was now muffled and guests discussions became mute. Your breathing shallowed yet you continued to stare.

Eternity flew by in a matter of seconds as you looked at your two friends before you.

Both were wearing Gold and Emerald. Sylvie's long dress complimented Loki's cape and boots and around what was around her slender neck was the cherry on top of this momentous cake.

You looked down at your hands that went to a necklace. All of its meaning had now been transferred to the new owner.

Everything had slotted together. Why Sylvie was smiling so much, Loki's mysterious absences, his short discussion, their secretive behaviour.

The noise came flooding back into your ears once more, making your eyes water. The chattering and clinking of glasses recentered you.

"Is everything alright?" Loki questioned. His arm now linked with Sylvie's, her face displayed the same curiosity.

Your mouth uttered something, yet nothing tumbled out. Instead, your body forced you to turn around and walk.

You walked. Just walked. Walked as far away as you possibly could. Your shoes took you further and further away from the Hall and outside to the gardens. More tears started to fall as you stupidly peered through one of the Palace's windows.

Your stained eyes met with the crowd making room for the event you didn't want to witness, yet couldn't help but watch. It made way for your two friends starting the evening. The urge to pull your eyes away from the situation unfolding became numb. You stood still as Loki took the small of Sylvie's back proudly as they began to waltz, the cushioned sound of the strings and flutes echoed outside as they floated around the room, their eyes never left one another's. Your body became weighted but you knew that one final flick would send you crumbling. Your hands clenched into fists and you couldn't do anything about it.

Loki looked so happy. Still, you weren't. Perhaps it was better for this to happen. They didn't fully know how you came to be in Asgard and thinking it through thoroughly, you didn't want to tell them, not now.

The God of Mischief never looked so proud to be in the centre of the crowd like this, so to keep this secret from you made your heart ache with either pride or betrayal, you couldn't make up your foggy mind.

The Hall became absent of one guest as they slowly walked into the gardens. The stillness of the night's air felt nice against your bare skin and the flowers bloomed gloriously around you. The tall shrubbery loomed over you, blocking out nearly all of the Palaces' light, but you couldn't escape the moon's view.

You strolled in and out of the beds, touching every delicate bulb that you passed. Relishing in its dainty scents, your path came to end with a wooden bench. Its worn planks provided support as you perched on it, resting your killing feet.

Now, what do you do? It was clearly evident that they were fine without you and to be completely honest with yourself, you knew the time to leave this world was drawing nearer and nearer.

The thought of leaving everything behind caused you to break down properly this time, that awful feeling of disgust and hurt pounded at your stomach as your throat was caught on itself.

The night's sky helplessly observed as the air blew colder and colder, the moons light leaving as you trailed back slowly.

Silent sobs resounded off the Palaces back stairwell and to your guest door. Heavy footsteps sounded on the damp carpet as the priceless dress was shrugged off, flopping on the floor lifelessly. The smudged makeup was wiped off and the styled hair was ruffled once more. Silence.

A piece of scroll and a quill were picked up and written on, the scratches of ink were all that could be heard in the small bedroom. Still, no words could be mustered.

A luggage bag was lifted from the top of the closet as t-shirts, jeans and essentials were folded neatly and zipped up. A sniffle was collected.

The open letter was placed on the bed and with a tearful kiss, so was the necklace.

"Thank you for letting me stay, but now I need to leave." A weak voice was finally projected.

The hurt walked down the hallway and back into the Palaces Grand Ball. It walked through the marble pillars, passed the infamous throne and out of the doors.

"Would you like me to carry your bag?" A smooth voice asked.

You whipped your head around to see Heimdall. Of course, he knew what you were doing. The man positioned himself humbly, his uniform reflected the warm lighting come from inside.

"Go and have one more look, I shall meet you at the Bridge."

You gave him a small smile and walked back to the large doors. You lingered in the doorway, eyeing the many guests and savouring the memories that were fading fast.

The vision fell on the young couple that were at the very far end of the room, They were talking to some of the guests, actually socialising. They looked so happy together, his hand draped around her like it was always meant to do that. Her eyes beaming with pride as she glanced up at him only made you cement your choice.

You smiled.

You took yourself on a little tour around the public square, seeing the many beautiful pictures of people houses, lavish fountains and well-kept marble streets. Each of its precisely cracked lines etched in gold, eventually directed you to the edge of the idyllic city. You laughed as you spotted the overly known spots the three of you used to meet at. You walked over to the tree as you looked on fondly at the permanent markings on its trunk. Your head lifted up to prevent an emotional collapse, you didn't want to make this harder than it should be, yet you were all the same.

Hours became minutes and you spotted Heimdall at the bridge, your suitcase grasped in his hand. Just one more time.

You made your final view on Asgard, from the Palace at the back from the small houses and shops at the front. Everything looked so much larger than from your bedroom window.

"Are you ready?" Heimdall said and offered his arm.

You chucked as you accepted, grandly strolling down the bridge to the Bifrost. The array of colours danced below you as Heimdall unexpectedly spun you around politely. His chuckle filled the air as you joked around on your way, forming even more moments that your heart desperately wanted to cling to. The evening's glitter shone above the both of you, customising spotlights on the two trying to make this special night one to remember.

"I am going to miss you Mid- Guardian."

"I'm gonna miss you too Heimdall."

The Biofrost expanded bigger and bigger until it was practically on top of you both. Your dance ceased to a stop as the gatekeeper placed a soft kiss on the top of your hand.

Footsteps bounced off the hollow walls as the two of you walked inside the orb. The cold interior made you shiver as your infinite time was now mere seconds.

"After you Heimdall" you laughed, trying to hold back tears that were starting to erupt again.

"Thank you, but before I forget, may I request you do something." He said. "Do you mind turning around?"

Confused, you obliged. Turning around, Heimdall's cold hands came to the back of your neck and left just as swiftly.

You stared down, your tired eyes widening.

"Heimdall how do you have thi-"

You spun back around but didn't come face to face with Heimdall.

You froze, paralysed to the spot as your breathing sharpened.

Your bags thudded to the Bifrosts floor and you crashed into him, your hands grabbed at his cloak as you sobbed into his leathered outfit. He dropped to his knees and pulled you in closer, his face burrowed into the crook of your shoulders. The jet black hair was becoming ungelled as the two of you stayed in that hug for a long time. His breathing became shallow and your shoulder was becoming damp. You pulled the hug in, infinitely closer, desperately not wanting to let him go. Your mind was scraping back at the fleeting moments as your exit grew bigger and bigger, applying pressure on top of the emotional wreckage to part ways.

Alas, you sadly tore away from one another, looking directly into one another's eyes, his green ones pierced into yours, pleading you to stay. Nonetheless, you both knew that couldn't be the case.

"I could stay here with you, you know"

"You know that can't happen Mid-Guardian. It pains me that you must leave. We have caused a lot of mischief together and I am so proud of the person you have become, even if you were under my influence." He choked, tears forming in his eyes. Your hand cusped his jawline, your thumb dragged along his cheek and to his eyes. His skin was made of pale velvet. His yearning tears were smoothed away from his eyes as he breathed out a shaky sigh.

You both dragged back yourselves up to your feet, his taller shadow looking down on you. He slowly picked up and passed you your luggage as you both locked eye contact for one last time.

He knew he had to let you go but for once in his life, this was the hardest goodbye he had to be a part of. You meant so much to him and the way he behaved tonight finally made him realise that no matter what he did or who he met, no one would be able to make him feel or experience anything like this the way you did, not even Sylvie.

"Don't forget me Loki."

"Oh my Dear, I won't be forgetting you for a very long time." He gave you a grin before wiping his eyes once more. "Now go and make some more mischief down on Mid-Guard for me."

You placed a sensitive kiss on his cheek as you edged closer to the Bifrosts vacuum. You turned around to admire the God of Mischief once more, a small tear leaked from your red face again.

Loki gave you a wink and then soon he wasn't there anymore.

Loki stood there painfully as you were soon out of sight, his mind racing with everything he should have said that never escaped his mouth.

He peered at the Bifrost that had now shut, hoping that for some miraculous reason that you would return, as his hand ran through his tousled hair. His breath became ragged once more as his knees buckled, his white-knuckled fists slammed into the floor, the impact caused the portal to shake slightly. If he didn't behave like such an arse hole tonight, maybe things could have turned out differently. how long did you know that you had to leave him one day?

His unanswered questions marinated as he regrettably crawled back to his feet and trudged back towards the festivities, his cape dragged behind him heavily. His bottled emotions made his blood boil as he let out a singular scream, cascading into the dark void of the Realm.

But if he loved you, then he had to let this happen.

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x reader #loki angst #lady loki #sylvie #loki the god of mischief #infinity war #marvel #loki series

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btsmosphere · 4 years ago

Text

Crossfire | KTH

Moodboard Masterlist

~summary: The night your life blew up sent you on a collision course with the campus bad boy, Kim Taehyung. Though you were well aware of his reputation, it was his doorstep you ran to when you were bleeding with nowhere to go.

~word count: 6.4k

~gang!au, mafia!au, college!au, angst, fluff, action, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers

Warnings: swearing, injury, dangerous driving, mention of drugs (warnings apply to each part individually, please read them)

~a/n: I am actually super happy with this chapter, I hope you guys feel the same! Y/N and Tae go on a lil adventure... I also had to make up a name for a cartoon show for this lmao,, and as always, thanks for the love!!

Something was tugging you from sleep.

Softly, though, so you didn’t notice until it was already too late, and your senses were with you all at once. In one last protest against the waking world, you didn’t open your eyes, stubbornly lying there instead, your back to the side of the bed Taehyung used. Then the same something that had woken you up started again.

He was singing.

That was all it took, and your eyes were open, body stiffening. Taehyung, however, noticed nothing. His song continued, one you had never heard before, and his voice was beautifully soft and smooth, expressive even at such a low volume. Clearly he had been hoping not to wake you up.

Swallowing, you forced your eyes to fall closed again. After the initial shock, you soon found it easy to relax to his calming melody, the duvet and pillow enveloping you in combination with his voice. And despite the warmth in your little bubble under the covers, goosebumps rose along your arms.

You really couldn’t get your head round Taehyung.

Though you had seen him being silly, all that time at college you had spent at a distance from him, he had seemed cold, intimidating. It had been a shock to you when he had been so amicable those months ago, and that soon became the Taehyung you knew, but he was still a mystery… His singing had really thrown you for a loop, another puzzle piece thrown in amongst the jumble you were already trying to make sense of when it came to this boy.

All day, you couldn’t get his song out of your head. Specifically, his voice.

His voice. Singing his song.

Him, him, him.

Last night he had mentioned that the books he had brought you were some of his favourites. Another surprise: who would have known that Kim Taehyung, the king of bad reputation, had a hidden love of fashion, an inner art connoisseur?

Now the books meant something different.

You read them even quicker after that, drinking in every word as if there were a drought.

Perhaps there was.

When you finished the last one in the stack, you were instantly back to the real world within four walls. It was only morning as well, judging by the light. Brilliant. One whole day and nothing to do.

“Y/N!”

Obnoxious footfalls. Taehyung was taking the stairs two at a time.

The bedroom door swung open to a slightly breathless Taehyung, leaning his weight against the door handle he had yet to let go of.

“Sorry it’s so late. You okay?”

You were lying across the bed’s width, head falling over the end nearest him, hair brushing the floor.

“Yep. Do you want me to cook?”

He only frowned down at you for a second longer before continuing as if one member of the conversation wasn’t upside down.

“Ah, no. I didn’t get any food.”

“But we basically ran out yesterday,” you frowned.

“I know,” he said, “but today we are going to the food.”

Now that made you sit up.

“What?”

“Yep,” a proud smile made its way onto his face and he straightened up, “we’re going out.”

When your only response was a wide-eyed stare, he took it as his cue to elaborate.

“I know you’ve been going a little crazy inside, so I thought we could go for an adventure. Hobi’s racing tonight and he says we can join him.”

“Hoseok?” you questioned.

“Yeah. Sound good?”

It did. You knew it shouldn’t. You weren’t naïve – you knew what he meant by racing. Idiots breaking every road law possible for clout, or maybe money. It was precisely what you had always stayed away from.

But it sounded so good.

“Sounds perfect,” you grinned.

First, Taehyung helped you find the pair of his jeans you were most likely to fit into; since you had been at his, you had mainly worn sweats for comfort’s sake, but this occasion called for a change. Wearing a hoodie was non-negotiable though, to hide your face.

After rolling up the hem of his black jeans, you slung on the most nondescript hoodie he had. Shoes, however, were more of an issue, so Taehyung vowed to buy you some once you were out. Also wearing black, Taehyung looked much more stylish than you in cargo pants, a bomber jacket and a bandana.

“Did you take your painkiller?” was the last thing on the list before finally leaving, via the side door.

Night had descended completely by now, putting you more at ease. You walked far away from streetlights when you could, but as you drew closer to the city centre, that was the last thing on your mind.

Being outside was just what you needed. You breathed in the cold air and drizzle on your face, eyes following each car that whirred past and people’s boots splashing in puddles of melted neon. And what made it all the more thrilling was the knowledge that you were taking a risk.

So far, you had been clumsily walking around in Tae’s sliders, until suddenly a man came barging past you on the sidewalk. In your dash to dodge him, you tripped over the too-big shoes, barrelling straight into Taehyung’s stomach where his arms steadied you.

You barely had a chance to straighten before Tae had turned around, bent down and grabbed the backs of your knees, forcing you to fling your arms around his neck, shrieking as he hoisted you onto his back. Grinning while you complained into the back of his neck, he carried on, but soon he was dragging you into a store that was still open – though not for long – and you grabbed the cheapest sneakers going.

With that problem solved, food was the next priority. In the end, you chose a street vendor and headed to your rendezvous with steaming bags in hand.

Not far from the centre, once you wound through the smallest streets enclosed by the tallest buildings, you emerged onto a car park. It wasn’t as secluded as you had expected for underground racing, still lit up in colours by the signs of shops that backed onto it, the entrance opening onto a wide road.

Cars were lined up, one pulling up at the same time as you and Taehyung. None were flashy sports cars: instead the line-up came in various states of repair, altered by their owners with darkened windows, underglow, stickers, spoilers, you name it.

“Hoseok!”

Beside you, Taehyung shouted across the car park, waving an arm above his head. Then his hand wrapped around your wrist and he lead you through the thin crowd over to the older bangtan boy, who pulled his friend in and clapped him on the back.

Hoseok joined the two of you as you sat on the wall to eat, watching as the first few people showed off their wheel spins and donuts, revving engines mixing with whoops and yells from the spectators. Most were dressed in black like you. A handful of people came up to chat with the boys, with ‘haven’t seen you in a while’-s to Taehyung and offers of bets for Hoseok. Keeping your head well down, you just enjoyed your food, silently taking in the new environment.

The night had cleared up, the asphalt still shining from the earlier drizzle, but the puddles now lay still as glass.

Plenty of people had bottles in their hands, sitting around on the perimeter walls. In the opposite corner, those with hidden faces crowded together, almost hiding the exchange in their hands. Others sat on their bonnets, proudly talking to the interested huddle gathered around them.

“Right, I’m gonna get warmed up,” Hoseok dropped down from the wall and departed with one last wave to your well wishes.

As Hoseok pulled his car out of its spot, more followed. Rolling down his window, he rested his arm casually against the side as he guided his car round, revving here and there to elicit hollers from the crowd.

Laughing in the driver’s seat, he hit the gas, putting on a spurt of speed and skidding round in a perfect one-eighty. A cloud was thrown up by his back tyres, glittering as the droplets fell back down.

By now, you had finished eating and were anticipating some action. The buzz among the spectators grew more as each driver messed about in the parking lot, until at last they were filing out, lining the empty road along an imaginary starting line.

“Can we go closer?” you asked Taehyung as people gravitated towards the roadside, disturbing your view.

A smile bloomed on his face and he jumped down, ditching his takeaway.

“Sure.”

Weaving in and out of the rabble to reach the front, you stood on your tiptoes to spot Hoseok’s car in the middle of the line. Taehyung stood just behind you, already speaking to someone. From your left side, a taller girl pushed past you, striding right up to the curb.

In a ripple, the pack quietened. The girl raised her hand – was that a gun? – and a bang sounded, drowned out instantaneously by the squealing of tyres and growling of engines. Within seconds, the cars had sped out of sight.

“How long is the race?” you turned to Taehyung, whose acquaintance had walked away again.

“That depends how fast Hoseok decides to go,” he murmured back, perching on the wall behind him and kicking his legs out, “they’re on one of the city circuits, main roads, so it’s just about acceleration.”

Nodding in what you hoped was a casual manner, you returned your eyes to the deserted road.

“So he’s good then, Hoseok?”

You hopped up onto the wall beside Taehyung, but it wasn’t his voice that replied.

“Oh, he’s the best.”

Your head snapped around, leaving you face to face with Yoongi. Leaning against the end of the wall, smoke swirling up from a glowing cigarette end in his hand, he looked right at home. How long had he been standing there?

“I heard you were here,” he directed a rare smile past you to Taehyung, “everyone’s wondering if you’re gonna go for a spin.”

“It’s been a long time,” Taehyung chuckled.

“Beck’s next up,” he said, as if that was meant to mean something. Based on Taehyung’s reaction, it probably did.

Shaking his head, he laughed, then bit down on his lip, still smiling, and stared into his lap.

“I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Well you won’t have long,” Yoongi crushed his cigarette against the wall, chucking it carelessly to the ground. Sure enough, the screech of tyres and distant rumble of engines were once again becoming audible.

As Yoongi melted away into the crowd again, the sounds grew and you stood up again, craning your neck to see as far down the road as you could. Only seconds later, a pair of headlights blazed around the corner, drawing a line down your vision as the car flew towards you, followed by a tight group of others.

Stepping back, you watched as the first place car whizzed by, blowing your hair back and off your face, the rest piling across the line in a photo-finish a few seconds later.

While the cars slowed, drifting round to return to the car park and the assembled cheering crowd, an elbow nudged your arm.

“Do you fancy a ride?”

Your eyes slid between Taehyung and the cars re-entering the lot, quickly encircled by people.

What the hell were you thinking? Why were you even considering saying yes? This was crazy-

“Okay!”

Taehyung held you in front of him, shielding you as together you cut a path through the excited mass towards the victor of the last race. Hoseok was grinning from ear to ear, arms in the air, high-fiving people and showing off energetic dance moves in exchange for laughter and pats on the back.

Once again, Taehyung clapped his shoulder, this time leaning in to make his request. Hanging back, you were invisible in the crowd, your face obscured.

“Hey, everyone!” Hoseok shouted, causing a hush, “Taehyungie’s gonna do the next one!”

Cheers and excited applause erupted as Hoseok lifted Tae’s hand in the air. The older boy jumped around while Taehyung laughed, and before long the other drivers were back in their cars. Returning to the roadside, the crowd left you behind.

“Hop in,” Taehyung told you, making his way to the driver’s side.

Though not top-end, Hoseok’s car was not inexpensive. You slid into the leather seat and buckled up, Tae doing the same before gripping the wheel and getting it moving, out and onto the road.

“So where are we going?” you eyed the rabble from your window as you passed them, low rumble of the engine almost teasing given what was to come.

“Beck,” Taehyung replied, pulling into position, one hand staying loosely on the wheel, “it’s what we call one of the courses round the back alleys down by Beck square, and it’s sort of my speciality.”

You nodded, eyes falling back onto the wide open road in front of you. A few cars over, you saw the girl from before standing on the curb.

“You ready?”

A deep breath in.

“Yeah,” you smiled.

Bang.

Outside, the crowd blurred and disappeared, lights whipping past your window as you were forced back in your seat with the sudden speed.

Other cars encroached either side, penning you in but Taehyung kept his eyes ahead, locking the wheel all the way right to take you barrelling into a smaller road, with only one car ahead of you. At the back windscreen, purple headlights were bearing down on you, so close it was like a demon staring into the car.

Weaving, left, right, your car thundered after the red one ahead of you, but the gap only increased.

Snarling behind you, engine nearly as loud as your own, your main pursuer was on top of you. As you spilled out onto a wider road, it was gaining, crawling up your side.

With a glint in his eye, Taehyung took one look at the competitor, one glance to where the red car was turning the next corner some way ahead, and pulled the wheel.

Staring straight ahead, wheel at arm’s length, Taehyung pushed the car, the roaring engine riding a deafening crescendo as you powered ahead through the deserted alley he had taken you down. You winced as he rapidly squeezed past some industrial bins lining the wall, only grazing one with slight jolt – then it was a clear road to the growing exit.

Your car fired from the shortcut like a cannonball, Taehyung wrestling the wheel to bring the back tyres under control as you turned right, finding yourselves neck-and-neck with the red car from earlier.

Next, a drawn-out corner, and that was all Taehyung needed to pull away, expertly drifting around before flattening his foot to the ground, plunging into the darkest alley yet, lit only by your headlamps. But once you emerged, the wider road was back, shop signs and streetlights blurring outside.

Taking a glance behind, the red car was nowhere to be seen.

A laugh bubbled up from your throat as you fell back in your seat, exhilarated. And then there was the crowd, watching and waiting by the parking lot – you had won!

“Fuck me,” you breathed as Taehyung relaxed beside you, casually braking into a drift to turn around.

A hearty laugh returned from him as he pulled into the car park, soon getting swarmed. Exiting the car, you were both engulfed in the clamouring mass, though you managed to slip away to the midst of it. Everyone was the most interested in Taehyung.

At last, most had dispersed and only Hoseok and Yoongi were left congratulating Taehyung with hugs.

“Fun, right?” Hoseok smiled at you, inviting you into their conversation.

“Yeah.” Breathless as if you had just run the course, you laughed with them.

“Good job, you haven’t lost your touch,” Yoongi affirmed again as Hoseok left you to drive again.

By the sounds of it, the next race was a longer one. Bets had been made and you all held your breath as the cars lined up again. The starting gun did nothing to help your heart calm down after the adrenaline rush of Taehyung’s race, but you weren’t complaining. His face wore a similar joy to yours, the two of you happily sitting back after Yoongi left and laughing about the thrill of his driving.

“I dunno if I would have got away so well on the corner if Hoseok’s car wasn’t so good though-“

“Hey! Don’t downplay it, your driving was insane!”

“Maybe it was insane,” he looked down, bashful, but soon smiled back and shook his finger at you, “so don’t try this at home!”

But your laughter at his joke was interrupted.

Sailing over the buildings came the high-pitched wail of a siren. The group quietened. Listening. Perhaps it was unrelated?

A couple of people walked into the road, looking around to see if the vehicle was coming your way. It was definitely getting too close for comfort.

Taehyung stood, hand wrapping round your upper arm and lightly pulling you away from the front of the crowd, though both of you still stared at the road, hoping the sound would shrink again, pass you by.

Blue flashed against the rain-slick road, illuminating dark windows at the end of the street.

Bad luck.

“Run!”

Those who were standing in the road took off across it, away from the car park, while some scattered back to where they came from. The few cars left standing in the parking lot were starting up, leaving by the alleys. And in the middle of the crowd, you and Taehyung started running.

In seconds the parking lot had emptied, and now you were alone with Taehyung as other members of the party vaulted walls away from the sirens and shouting police officers, the slamming of car doors as they gave chase.

Air rushed in and out of your lungs as your feet pounded after Taehyung, going as fast as you could but still falling behind. Dark buildings either side of you were painted in blue as light fell down the alleyway from the cars that had scattered you. Up ahead, Taehyung rounded a corner, but it was lost in darkness and you weren’t sure which one he had gone down.

You didn’t stop running.

“Stop there! Police!”

A woman yelled from the other end of the street, making you push yourself harder.

Just then, Taehyung skidded back around the corner you had just reached and grabbed your hand before you could think, and now he was pulling you away, taking turn after turn through dark streets you had never seen before. Stumbling after him, you clutched his hand, your lifeline.

You must have lost them by now. No blue lights could be seen, no sirens or shouts heard, no other footsteps but your own.

You hoped you had lost them by now. Your heart was beating out of your chest and your head spun, lungs failing to cooperate, evicting air in heavy bursts, taking it in too slow. In your side, the pain couldn’t be masked by the painkiller anymore, pinching mercilessly with every step.

You had to slow down.

Legs failing you, you finally gave in to stopping.

The sudden tug and then loss of your hand in his made Taehyung turn around, finding you doubled over, panting and pale in the face. Eyes scanning the street beyond you for danger, he moved forwards, hands gripping your arms.

“Hey, Y/N, can you keep going?”

Only your hyperventilating answered him.

“Y/N? Can you hear me?”

Trying to pull you up to look at him, he was only met with your body going heavier in his arms, forcing him to scramble to wrap his arms around your back as you went limp.

Cursing, he lowered you to the ground but didn’t let go. Not taking his eyes off your face, he caught the moment your eyes opened again once you were leant against the wall.

A short breath escaped him, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you managed, breathing more even now, “my side…”

“It’s alright, you can rest for a bit,” he assured you, finally releasing you and sitting back on his heels.

One more check up and down the alley.

“Were we seriously just running from police?” you laughed slightly, bringing his attention back to you.

“First time for everything,” he mused, sitting down beside you.

“I guess,” you chuckled, still a little breathless, “so is the racing over?”

“For tonight. It gets busted occasionally, so when the others get back and see everyone’s gone they’ll know what happened.”

“Is Hoseok going to get arrested?”

“Shouldn’t do. He’s had plenty of practice evading cops.”

Nodding, your eyes returned to the ground. It was easy to forget how much experience Taehyung and the other bangtan boys had in all this; you were just here for the ride.

“You had your painkiller, right?” Taehyung broke the brief silence.

“Yeah, I did,” you quickly confirmed, “and I feel better now, I just, I dunno what happened…”

“And your iron pill?”

“Hmm? Oh, the red ones… no, I-I don’t think so.”

He clicked his tongue.

“That’ll be it then. You’re taking one as soon as we get home.”

Despite feeling a little like you were being scolded, you smiled, about to respond when a scuffle from the end of the street made you both turn your heads.

As you watched the dimly lit space, a silhouette ran past in a blur, followed by a slower figure, wearing an unmistakeable bulky police vest. They jogged past the opening to your street, but soon their outline reappeared, empty handed.

Breath catching in your throat, you went obligingly with Taehyung as he stood silently, his arm guiding you behind him without taking his eyes off the cop. As quickly as you dared, you both retreated, wincing at each slight crunch beneath your feet. In the silence, the crackling of a police radio, though incomprehensible, was clearly heard, and the officer mumbled back into it.

Spying an opening to hide you from view, you gathered this was your target. Holding your breath, you approached it, swinging around the corner at the first opportunity with only one glance back.

One glance that showed the cop’s head turning towards you.

This alley was much smaller than the other, and you found yourself facing Taehyung in much the same way you had in his hallway when you first came barging into his life. Searching his face, you wondered if he had seen what you did just now.

“Tae-“

His lips formed around a shushing sound that barely left his mouth, and in one small step, he was up against you, a finger steady on your lips to silence you. All you could do was hold your tongue and stare as he looked past you, tentatively dipping his head out of your hiding spot, never lowering his finger.

“They’re gone,” he spoke, voice still impossibly low.

Swallowing, you removed your eyes from his face, glancing up the alley you were now on. It was a dead end, home only to a large dumpster surrounded by smashed glass and needles. You couldn’t leave this way, which would explain why you needed to wait here, in case the cop was still close by.

What it didn’t explain was why Taehyung was still so close to you.

Although his hand had now lowered, you could feel his body heat from this proximity. The zip of his undone jacket brushed against the front of your hoodie.

Your tongue ran across your lips. Eyes finally diverted from the potential dangers outside, Taehyung was now looking at you.

“Uh…” you cleared your throat, regretting opening your mouth. You had no idea what you had planned to say.

Luckily, you were startled from the situation as a chiming ringtone broke through the moment.

Scrambling to scoop his phone from his pocket and answer it, Taehyung stumbled back, eyeing the alleyway outside in a panic. Thankfully, no one had heard. Better get moving.

“Hello?”

Not even getting a look at the caller in his rush to pick it up, Jungkook’s voice answering him was a relief.

Mindlessly grabbing your hand in his, Taehyung started walking with you beside him as he listened to the younger member. As you passed through the end of the street, he took a look both ways before leading you the opposite way to that the police officer had taken.

Holding Kim Taehyung’s hand was something you had never seen coming. But here you were.

You didn’t complain though. His grip was firm, comfortable, and walking with him this way felt… normal. How that was even possible, you didn’t know, and you blamed it on your lingering light-headedness – of course you would want to feel grounded.

But somehow, far away from all you knew in backstreets you had never seen before, after a very illegal night, with a gang member talking in serious tones over the phone next to you, you felt perfectly at home.

“Cheers, Kook. Night.”

Taehyung shut off the call, tucking his phone back into his pocket. By now you had reached more well-lit roads that you imagined would be busy by day. Now, of course, you were the only ones here. God knew what time it was.

The only light brighter than the streetlamps was the interior of a 24-hour convenience store, a good indication that it was by no means a civilised hour. Still without letting your hand go, Taehyung led you inside.

Standing in front of the wall of fizzy drinks, he ordered you to pick one before swiping a packet of crisps and a chocolate bar. The teenage cashier didn’t look you in the eye once as he rung you up, and then you were on your way. Only now did Taehyung drop your hand, passing you the chocolate with a command to get your sugar up and himself tearing into the crisps.

When you had worked through the first row, he spoke up.

“Jungkook was on the phone about your dad.”

“O-oh,” you stuttered, having just put another square in your mouth.

“Well he’s okay. He hasn’t been hurt, but as you know, Shinhyuk’s forced him to hand over your apartment for the gang to use. He’s forcing him to work for him, full-time, with the threat of harm to you if he doesn’t… Apparently he was accused of stealing drugs from a deal and that warrants all this – though it’s probably baseless. Shinhyuk had his eyes on your place already.”

You watched your feet as you listened. It had been easy to put your dad out of your mind for the sake of your sanity, the not knowing taking you round in circles, but hearing that he was still alive took a weight from you.

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung said, greeted with your silence, “we’re fighting against Shinhyuk, and we’ll try to help him. Try not to worry about him losing his job, I mean-“

“Worry?” you looked up at him, “He’s alive! There’s nothing to be sorry for! Can you thank Jungkook for finding this out?”

A small, relieved smile crossed Taehyung’s face.

“Course I can,” he grinned, then held out your Fanta, “now don’t forget about your sugar.”

After this, the walk home was surprisingly short. Given how lost you were, you had thought you were half the city away, but in next to no time you turned onto recognisable streets. Strolling through the dark eating sugary snacks, it felt as if you were coming home from the movies, or any venture more innocent than your night of racing.

As the pair of you were climbing Tae’s front steps, he offered to make tea to warm up. Needless to say, you were fully on board with the idea.

He set to work, the kitchen lit dimly by lights tucked underneath the cupboards.

However, leaning against the wall waiting for the water to boil, you began to feel just how tired you were, both physically and mentally. But you could sleep later: you didn’t want the night to end yet. Deciding on a middle ground, you gave in to sliding down the wall, seating yourself on the floor. Not a move you would have chosen at your most alert moments, but it couldn’t be helped.

At your downwards movement, Taehyung spun around, dropping the teaspoon with a clatter.

But then he saw you staring back at him in bewilderment, and his eyes closed as he huffed in equal parts relief and frustration.

“God, I thought you were passing out again,” he grumbled.

Soon the bag of red pills landed in front of you on the tile. Sheepishly smiling, you gulped one down, and then a mug of tea filled its space.

“Oh, we don’t have to stay here,” you frowned at Tae as he sat down opposite you on the kitchen floor, leaning his back against the cupboards as he cradled his tea.

“Nah, it’s a unique perspective,” he said, “I’ve never sat here before and it’s my house.”

“Yeah, I’m sure your kitchen looks super different from down here,” a smile threatened to break your baffled frown, though you did pick up your mug, breathing in the inviting steam rising from it.

“So was tonight okay?” Taehyung smiled over his mug, eyes creasing a little as they watched for your answer.

“Mmm, yeah,” you swallowed your first sip of tea, “I’ve never… done anything like that before. But I thought it was really exciting! Hoseok is so nice too, letting you drive his car.”

Tae let out a short laugh, eyes disappearing for a moment.

“I practically learnt to drive in Hobi’s cars.”

“Wait, cars? As in, cars, plural?”

“Yeah,” his wide grin stayed on his face, both rows of his teeth visible in the low light, “tonight was just small races, he didn’t get out the big guns. You should see his Bugatti.”

Your eyes bulged from your head.

“I’m not even going to ask where he got the money for that,” you mumbled, still in awe.

“He didn’t,” Taehyung smirked. Rolling your eyes, you breathed a laugh, soon diving back into your tea.

“Was it alright with Yoongi there?” he asked next. His eyes were wider now, curious, smile dimming, “I know he hasn’t exactly been…”

“No, it was fine,” you assured, “I get that he doesn’t like me, but he seems to tolerate me now, so I won’t push him.”

“He did sort of beat you up before, though,” Tae pointed out.

“I nearly beat him up back!” you joked, admittedly motivated by genuine defensiveness, “I could have handed his ass to him any time I pleased, but I chose to give you the satisfaction of saving me instead.”

Taehyung responded by snorting into his tea.

“You are so rude,” you tipped your foot over to playfully kick his thigh as you both laughed.

“Honestly, I’m glad you’re not too bothered by Yoongi,” Taehyung said once the laughter had passed, though his smile still lingered, “he looks so tough, but he’s a massive softie really.”

You simply raised your eyebrows.

“You’ll see,” he smirked.

“I’ll wait,” you scoffed, “although I don’t find him scary exactly… he sort of reminds me of that evil magician from Archie-wizz- did you watch that?”

“Yes! I used to watch that every day after school!”

“Yeah, so you know the one I’m on about, right? He was always lurking around corners, like, the camera would turn around and there he was, like he’d been there the whole time. That’s Yoongi!”

Tae barked a disbelieving laugh.

“You mean Count E. Vil? Yoongi would flip shit if he heard you compared him to a cartoon.”

“Count E. Vil? That was his name?”

“Yeah, and every time he appeared, Archie was like ‘didn’t see ya there!’”

“Yeah, yeah it is that one,” you laughed at the memory, “was that seriously his name? I must have forgotten.”

“You know, the more I think about, the more I can see it,” Taehyung was laughing too, “you just turn around and he’s like – bam – looking all cool…”

Taehyung schooled his face into a death stare just like Yoongi’s to demonstrate, making you crack up even more. He didn’t last long before the act broke down, laughter creeping into his poker mouth and now the both of you were bent over your knees with tears in your eyes, wheezing with the kind of infectious laughter that is most at home after lights out at a sleepover.

“Not a word of this to Yoongi, understand,” Tae joked when you had both calmed down, voice worn out from the laughing fit.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Comfortable silence warmed the room for a moment as you both drank more tea. Odd though your little scene was, with you both sat on the floor, legs outstretched in the middle, it was cosy. The glow of fading LEDs that barely lit your faces separated you from the darkness of the outside. In all the world, it felt as though you two were the only ones, safe in your unorthodox sanctuary.

“How…”

You spoke before you had figured out how to phrase your question, but now Taehyung had lifted his eyes back to you.

“How did you… Who started, I mean, with bangtan…”

“How did we get together?”

You gave a small nod.

“Some of us go way back,” he set his tea down, “I mean, I went to high school with Jimin. And Yoongi’s from the same city as me, and we used to know each other when we were tiny. His family was connected to Namjoon’s, and that’s where it started – their families started the whole crime thing, and they started training together.

“We all sort of fell together, I think Jin’s family needed help from Namjoon’s and he stayed on; Jungkook knew Jimin from childhood, and he showed up asking for help when we had already started; Jin found Hoseok at college. I started, and Jimin came along too, because Yoongi wanted me. We had been out of touch for years, but I still knew who he was.”

“Wow,” you breathed.

“It’s sort of complicated, I know,” he directed a shy smile at his cup.

“Well, that’s life,” you said quietly, “but you guys work so well together. I guess you got lucky.”

Taehyung’s nod was solemn.

“Yeah. But it’s more than just working – they’re my brothers now.”

Tilting your head as you listened, you believed him.

“You guys seem to understand each other so well.”

“We do – we always have each other’s backs, you know? I wouldn’t stick around in this for just anyone.”

“By ‘this’, do you mean…” you rested your chin on your knees, still listening intently.

“Everything we’re known for: drugs, fights, racing… I never intended to get into all that. I try to be careful, and moral, about it, we all do. But I wouldn’t have done it for anyone else.”

“Do you think you’ll stay in a gang forever?”

By now you were both talking in hushed tones as if you were huddled under blankets.

“No, I don’t think so,” he pondered, “I’m not sure what I want to be, though.”

“How about your art?” you smiled, “or fashion. Those books you got me were really interesting. Or your music? You’re a good singer-“

Cutting yourself off, your eyes widened. Taehyung had been nodding along, considering your options, but now he stared straight back at you.

“You heard me singing?”

“U-uh, yeah, I did,” you stammered, heat glowing in your cheeks, “I was half asleep, but I thought you were so good.”

“Thanks,” Tae’s voice was lower in pitch now, and he swallowed and looked down, his dark hair obscuring most of his face so he almost melted into the darkness. He cleared his throat, “I’ve never sung to anyone else before.”

“Well, you didn’t exactly sing to me,” you spoke softly, reaching a hand to his knee, “but it was amazing anyway. I mean it.”

You were glad to see a genuine smile blooming on his face as he looked back up again.

“Anyway,” he shook his head, “I’m not gonna leave the boys. Even when I’m not in a gang, they’ll always be my family. I’m not letting that go.”

“I understand.”

You really did. Your only family was across the city, torn from you and forced to work for Shinhyuk.

Hesitantly, you drew your hand back from his knee.

Draining the last dregs of his cold tea, Taehyung let the silence settle.

“I miss college,” you eventually confess into the quiet room, “I hope I get to go back.”

“Even Professor Han’s class?” Tae’s low voice joked.

“Oh, I don’t think I miss it that much,” you smiled, though it was overtaken by a sigh.

“You’ll go back,” came the reassurance.

A pause.

“We… we’re hoping we can beat Shinhyuk in this whole thing. We’re sort of working on a plan.”

Instantly intrigued, you stared expectantly across the kitchen at Taehyung, who heaved a sigh and began to explain.

“Shinhyuk has his weaknesses, and thanks to Jungkook we’ve found the worst. He works differently to us. He doesn’t care for anyone in his gang, and they don’t care for each other. Like your dad, he keeps most of them there with blackmail, so we’ve been trying to pick people off. If we can infiltrate well enough, guarantee his members a safe escape from the gang, or find some blackmail of our own to get them, we should be able to weaken him and catch him off-guard when his safety net isn’t there to catch him anymore…”

“Is it going to work?” you breathed into the still air.

Taehyung pursed his lips. You were very conscious of your breathing as you waited for an answer. In. Out.

“It has to.”

I will love you forever if you reblog! Comment or message me to be added to the taglist!

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theladyofdeath · 4 years ago

Text

Autumn Love {Elorcan}

31 Days of Halloween: Day 24.

All installments co-written with @snelbz

Based on a prompt sent in by anon : “Football Game.”

Sorry I had to take a few days off, y’all! I got too busy, ran out of already written prompts to post, and just simply didn’t have time to write. Shoutout to the beautiful and talented @snelbz who carried the weight on this super fluffy os! x

Warning: language.

Autumn/Halloween 2020 {Collection}

Elide climbed out of her car, looking around the crowded parking lot. Everyone and every thing was decked out in green and silver, save for the few people dressed in black and gold who’d traveled all the way from Morath. Following the crowd, she bought her ticket and made her way over to the bleachers sitting alongside the massive field.

She looked around, completely overwhelmed.

Elide had transferred to Orynth High at the beginning of the year, thanks to her newfound emancipation from her uncle, and she’d made fast friends with quite a few people. One of whom was calling her name from over the fence, where the rest of the cheerleaders stood.

“Elide! Hey!” She hurried over to where Aelin Galathynius was, adjusting her ponytail. “You came!”

“Yeah, I couldn’t miss the Halloween game,” she said, gesturing to Aelin’s face paint. The mermaid scales that Lysandra had painted were shimmering and Aelin looked great. She’d even sprayed some body glitter on her long legs and arms. “You look amazing!”

Aelin grinned at her friend. “Thanks! You’re coming to the party later, right?”

Elide hesitated, but Aelin stopped her. “No, nuhuh, you’re coming, even if I have to drag you myself.”

She blushed. Aelin hadn’t been the only one to invite Elide, but she hadn’t decided if she was going or not.

The cheering around them got louder and Aelin looked back over her shoulder at the approaching team. “Shit, I gotta go! But you’re coming tonight!” She cried as she ran towards the large banner the team would be running through in a matter of minutes.

All Elide could do was shake her head and laugh. She was just about to find a spot to sit down and watch the game by herself when she heard footsteps quickly approaching her. She was wrapped up in a bone crushing hug.

After being set down, she turned to find Manon and Asterin Blackbeak grinning at her.

“Hey, oh, my gods!” Elide was immediately throwing her arms around the two girls. She hadn’t seen them since she moved to Orynth from Morath, and they had been her closest friends growing up. “You didn’t tell me you were coming up for the game.”

“We wanted to surprise you,” Manon said, her husky laugh familiar and sweet to Elide’s ears.

“I’m glad you did,” Elide said, her grin so wide it hurt. “You both look incredible!”

They hadn’t dressed up, were wearing jeans and cute jackets - Manon’s black leather, Asterin’s a suede fringe - but they had definitely done their share of growing up through the years.

“We’ll be here for the whole weekend,” Manon promised. “Got a hotel room if you want to come party for a night or two.”

Elide rolled her eyes. She may not see her old friends too often, but she sure knew what their idea of partying was.

“Hush, it’s starting,” Asterin snapped. “Hot boys in tight pants are coming onto the field.”

Manon snorted, looking at Elide as she shook her head, but they all found a place to stand, nonetheless. Sitting was irrelevant, considering everyone was on their feet.

The national anthem played and the game began, the players from Terrasen standing in front of the fence where Elide, Manon and Asterin had taken up their places.

“Boys from Terrasen are much, much cuter than boys from Morath,” Asterin muttered, looking up and down the frame of one of the players running from one of the like to the other.

“Keep it in your pants, Rin,” Manon laughed, turning towards Elide. “So. Any good parties you know of tonight?”

Just as Elide was about to reply, definitely about to lie about the party taking place at Rowan Whitethorn’s house after the game, a play began, and the cheers from the crowd distracted the girls.

After barely any time on the field, the boys in green had managed to score and regardless of their affiliation with Morath, even Manon and Asterin were cheering as the defense took the field and the offense got some much needed water.

Once things had quieted down, Manon asked, “Okay, now about that party?”

Elide laughed but she noticed someone heading for the opposite side of the fence where they stood.

She glanced over and found Lorcan Salvatore approaching, a proud grin on his face. His teammates were slapping him on the pads, back, ass, everywhere. Elide always thought that was strange about football, but who was she to judge.

He paused in front of them, not even acknowledging the two girls standing with Elide. “Hey.”

“Hey, you,” she said, looking up at him, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

He inclined his head towards the field. “Guess that means I’ll be seeing you at Rowan’s later, yeah?”

Tilting her head slightly, Elide asked, “What do you mean?”

He smirked and rested his forearms on the fence. “You told me in chemistry yesterday that the only way you’d come to Ro’s with me was if I scored the first touchdown for you.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder at the scoreboard, which read 7-0. “And would you look at that.”

Elide’s dark eyes went wide. “That was you that scored?”

Lorcan’s grin widened. “Meet me outside the locker room after the game, yeah?”

And with that, he was off, running back to the sideline.

Elide was staring at him, her mouth hanging open.

Manon and Asterin were staring at Elide with their mouths hanging open.

“Who the hell was that?” Manon asked, blinking. “And why the hell haven’t we heard about him until now?”

“Damn, Lochan,” Asterin followed, her eyes travelling to the sideline, where Lorcan was pouring water into his mouth.

“Nobody,” Elide said, flustered. She hoped her cheeks weren’t bright red. She knew they probably were. “Lorcan, he’s my lab partner.”

“Lab partner,” Asterin said, raising an eyebrow. “So you have chemistry, huh?”

Elide rolled her eyes, as did Manon, but she said, “No, he’s just one of my friends here. His best friend is dating my next door neighbor. We’ve just…gotten close.”

“Close?” Manon asked. “And exactly how close have you gotten?”

Elide’s face was on fire. “Close as friends.”

“You like him,” Manon said.

“I do not,” Elide snapped.

“He likes you,” Asterin crooned.

“He does not,” Elide assured them both.

Manon and Asterin shared a knowing look.

“Let’s just drop it,” Elide muttered, looking back out as Lorcan retook the field.

“Holy shit, you’re smitten,” Asterin said, flabbergasted.

“I don’t think we’re going to get an invite to this party, Rin,” Manon said, throwing a look at her cousin over top of Elide’s head. “Looks like sweet, little Elide will be pretty preoccupied.”

“Oh, gods,” Elide muttered, blushing furiously and dropping her face into her hands.

Manon’s and Asterin��s grins only widened.

Four quarters and five touchdowns later, the Staghorns defeated the Valg, 42-14.

“Where are you going?” Asterin chastised Elide as they were walking out of the gate, into the parking lot.

Elide sighed. “To my car.”

“Uh, no you’re not,” Manon said, stepping in front of her. “Locker room. He’ll be waiting for you.”

“You don’t even know who he is,” Elide said, feeling suddenly defensive.

“You like him,” Asterin said, unable to stop herself. “What’s stopping you?”

Elide hesitated. “Nothing. I’m just...I’m focusing on my studies.”

Manon scoffed. “Study him!”

Elide spun around, her eyes narrowed. “Why does it matter? What’s the point? He could get any girl he wanted in this school, so don’t worry, he won’t be missing me.”

“Says who?” Asterin asked. “Because I didn’t see him jog over all sweaty and sexy to any other girls standing along the sidelines.”

Before Elide could think up a response, Manon added, “And he invited you to a party that he knows you’d probably already be at. If your friend’s boyfriend is throwing it, he had to have known she would have invited you.”

Elide’s eyebrows rose. She hadn’t thought of that. But after a minute, she sighed. “Fine. I like him, alright?” She could see the squealing about to emerge from Asterin - not Manon though. Manon Blackbeak didn’t squeal. So she quickly added, “Look, he’s got a reputation, okay? And… I don’t know, I don’t want to be just a hookup. That’s not what I’m interested in.”

“And what are you interested in?” Manon challenged. “That happily-ever-after shit?” Elide hesitated, and Manon just shook her head. “Who says that’s not what he wants too?”

Elide rolled her eyes, but Asterin was cutting in. “I hope you know that neither of us are letting you get in your car without talking to him first.”

Elide opened her mouth to protest further, but her lips soon snapped shut and her face was falling into her hands. “Damn it! Damn you both.”

“Hope you have a costume ready!” Asterin called after her as she headed towards the building that housed the locker rooms.

Elide only held her middle finger up behind her as she walked away.

She wandered into the crowd of fans, players and family members. She was nearly a head shorter than everyone around her, but she decided standing near the door was her best chance of catching him. She was headed for the wall, deciding to lean up against it and people watch while she waited when a pair of arms wrapped around her waist and picked her up.

She squealed and a warm, husky laugh filled her ears. Her feet were back on the ground and he turned around, finding Lorcan smirking down at her, his long hair still damp from his quick post game shower.

“Good game,” she said, laughing as she recomposed herself.

“Good game?” He laughed, repeating what she said. “Four touchdowns isn’t good, it’s awesome.”

“Well, then ‘awesome game’,” she smiled, amending her statement.

He laughed, and nodded. “Thanks. Ready for the party?”

Elide nibbled on her lip. “I don’t know. I, uh, didn’t bring a costume.”

“Neither did I,” he said, shrugging. “Dressing up doesn’t matter, anyway.”

“No?” Elide asked, brow arched, trying to put her finger on Lorcan Salvaterre. “And what does matter?”

That stupid little grin of his softened. “That you come with me. Obviously.”

“And if I don’t come with you?” Elide asked, although she had nearly lost all of her volume.

Lorcan shrugged. “Then it’ll be a night wasted.”

“A night wasted?” She said, laughing. “How so?”

“‘Cause you'll go home and study for our chemistry test on Tuesday, which you already know you’re going to pass,” he said, crossing his arms. “Instead of coming and hanging out with us like you should.”

“Us?” Elide asked, trying not to be so obvious in her question.

“Mostly me,” he smirked. “But I’m sure Aelin will want you there. And Fenrys told me to ask your blonde friend to come,” he added, snorting.

Elide should have known. Asterin was always attracting guys. “Is that it, then?”

Lorcan’s smile faltered, but that hesitation didn’t last long, and his glorious grin soon returned. “What do you mean?”

“You want me to come to the party to hang out with the same friends we hang out with at school?” Elide asked.

Lorcan lifted a brow. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Elide hated that she was disappointed. She didn’t know what she had been expecting. Him to get down on one knee and beg for her to be his date? No, the word date hadn’t even fallen from his mouth.

She didn’t want to disappoint him though, didn’t want the light to go out in his eyes. So she sighed and said, “I’ll see you at Rowan’s.”

Elide was turning to walk away when he called out and said, “What if I have an alternative plan?”

She turned back, noticing the crowd had dwindled to nearly no one. “And what’s that?”

He shrugged and walked towards her. “We go to Whitethorn’s and make an appearance, mostly just cause Fenrys will kill me if I don’t get him to your friend,” he chuckled, pausing in front of her. Elide couldn’t help but laugh as well. “But rather than stay and get drunk, we could go and get dinner at the diner. And then go back and get drunk.”

“Just us?” She asked, looking up at him.

He nodded. “Just us. Why else would I have asked you to go to the party with me?”

Elide wasn’t sure what to say, at least she didn’t have anything to say that didn’t leave her completely embarrassed, so she said nothing.

He took a step closer to her when she remained quiet, and brushed his fingers softly along hers. “I like you, Elide. A lot.”

There they were, the words she had wanted to hear from him for so long.

Her own admission rushed out. “I like you, too.”

“So, is that a yes to dinner?” He asked, brushing her hair back behind her ear.

She nodded, taking a step closer to him. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He asked, chuckling slightly. He slipped his fingers between hers and tugged her towards him, closing the distance.

She bumped into him, her hands coming up to rest on his firm chest. Her answer was breathless. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” he breathed, and closed the distance between them. His lips met hers, softly, and at first Elide was unsure of what to do, how to react.

Lorcan Salvaterre was kissing her.

Once she got over the shock of it, Elide was kissing him back.

They were late to the party.

And when they got there, they didn’t stay long, at all.

#elorcan #31 days of halloween #shacmc #tog #fanfic

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forever-rogue · 5 years ago

Text

My Oh My

A/N: Here’s the little Javi piece I’ve been promising, and finally managed to deliver. I hope you enjoy! As always, comments, feedback, whatever are welcome! And yes, this was loosely inspired by the song of the same name. xx

Word Count: 5.8k

Pairing: Javier x Reader

Warnings: it’s smut, 80% smut, 20% plot. 18+ only!!!

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

You could feel his intense eyes on you, yet again. You contemplated ignoring him, but where was the fun in that? Instead, you turned your attention from your drink to the man across the club that had been eyeing you all night.

As soon as your gaze met his, his face hardened into an expression you couldn't quite make out. He didn't flinch, didn't seem ashamed that you'd caught him unabashedly staring at you. He was the hunter and you were the prey, and he made sure there was no mistaking his intention. Instead, you took a sip from your drink, your eyes never leaving his. A small, devilish little smirk appeared on his handsome features as he saluted you before taking a drink from his bottle of beer. You thought about going over and saying something to him, but you stopped yourself when his attention left you as his blonde haired friend rejoined him. You slightly huffed before getting reinvested in the conversation your friends were having.

You'd worn an especially flashy dress that evening, all sorts of gold and glitter, hoping it would catch his eye. It did. He liked it. What he liked even better was the idea of what you were, or rather weren't, wearing underneath it.

You'd made a habit of this lately, the little cat and mouse game, the two of you had been playing. You knew he was only here for one thing, and if you were being honest, so were you. At first you had wondered if your inklings had been correct, but the the fact that he only seemed to be there when you were strongly suggested that your suspicions were correct.

After all, this club was much too crowded, much too loud, and much too expensive for anyone to come this often unless they were after something. But you were both after one thing - each other.

But you knew all about Javier Peña; hell everyone knew about him. He had a reputation, and a bad one at that for a reason. You were still trying to to decide if you wanted to be a part of that. Your resolve, once you had realized he wanted you as much as you wanted him, had weakened over time. It wasn't going to take much more for you to fall victim, albeit very willing, to him. Besides, you wanted to see if he warranted that reputation, if he was really as good as everyone said he was.

But that for another time, if ever, you decided as you turned back to sipping the drink in your hand. You swished the warm liquid around in your mouth before quickly downing the rest of it. It was late already, and you had decided to go home and get some sort of relief from all of this tension. Even if that only involved your hand and the image of him in your mind.

You didn't even bother to glance back at him before leaving. You could feel his eyes on your back side regardless. You decided you'd be back tomorrow. Maybe if you were lucky he'd be there too. Maybe if it was date, you'd be destined to finally meet.

»»————-　♡　————-««

It was hot. Late. A waste of an evening.

Here you were at this stupid club again, but this time you were alone. Your friend hadn't come to continue your little cat and mouse game.

Maybe it was a waste of time. A folly you should have let go. He was dangerous after all and maybe after tonight you'd get him off your mind. Maybe not getting to see him was a sign after all. Downing the rest of the drink you’d been nursing for nearing an hour, you decided to just leave. You could spend your time drinking at home for a lot less money and surrounded by less people.

Sliding off of the tall bar stool you made your way through the packed club, looking for the relief of the cold outside air. But just before you reached the entrance, you felt a hand grab your arm. You quickly tried to pull your arm out of the grasp, but it was as tight as a vice grip. Oh. This pendejo was going to get it.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing!?” you turned around and your heart almost stopped when your eyes met his. Those same velvety brown ones you’d been dreaming of for the past several weeks. You relaxed when you realized it was him, after all this time; he’d shown up. There was a mischievous little grin on his face as he studied you; the bastard was clearly enjoying this, “oh.”

“Leaving so soon?” you knew he was American, but his accent was flawless. It was the type of voice that made you weak in the knees, the kind that could make you do anything with a simple command. He loosened the grip on your arm and pulled back, the moment frozen in time as you tried to figure out a witty response. He didn’t even bother to hide the fact that he was shamelessly checking you out. Of course he didn’t, that wasn’t his style.

“There’s nothing to keep me here,” you shrugged slightly, raising an eyebrow as you gave him the once over in turn. He was good looking, no doubt about it, and he knew it. He was dressed in tight jeans and a tight pink button up, a black leather jacket topping it all off. Simply put: hot. But you weren’t about to just let him know that right away, “so I might as well go home, no? At least there I can have some fun.”

“Fun?” he sounded the word out slowly, almost as if he was test out the way it sounded, “is that what you’re after?”

“Aren’t we all? It’s okay to have a good time,” you were leaning in close to him so you wouldn’t have to shout. So close that his cologne was hitting you in all the most delicious ways. You were so fucked already. You trailed a hand up his shoulder, stopping when you reached his collar, tugging on it lightly, “isn’t that why you’re here?”

“I suppose,” he swallowed thickly as removed your hand, and you didn’t miss the way his gaze zoned in on your breasts. You couldn’t and wouldn’t blame him for that little fact. You’d worn the low cut dress in the hope that he’d see you, “I’m Javier.”

“I know,” you almost threw your head back with laughter. Of course you knew, everyone, at least every woman in the vicinity of Bogota, knew him. His reputation and insatiable habits preceded him everywhere. And despite the fact that you tended to have a good girl reputation, you hadn’t shied away from him. In fact, it only piqued your curiosity more, and you wanted to find out more, “Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated almost directly in your ear, and it sent a shiver down your spine. Goosebumps erupted all over your skin, despite the heat of the night, “you’ve been here a lot. Doesn’t seem like your scene.”

“I could say the same to you,” you smirked back and he nodded. It was true, he seemed out of the place, “perhaps something is compelling you to come back?”

“Maybe. And yet whenever I’m here, you happen to be here as well,” he was so close that if you stepped even a few centimeters closer your lips would be on his. They looked surprisingly soft and plush, and you wanted to know how felt on yours, “a funny little coincidence, don’t you think, chiquita?”

“Maybe,” you pressed your body into his, pointedly so, and you could already feel his hard on straining against his jeans. Yes. You had him right you wanted him, “or maybe this was what I was waiting for. Maybe it could have already happened if it hadn’t been for cockblock of a friend the other night.”

“Good thing he’s not here then,” his breath hitched in his throat as he tried his best to keep his hands from roaming all over you. It was hard, a herculean task even, not to take you in some shape or form right then and there. He could feel every bit of your body against his and he only had one thing on his mind. But so did you. You knew where this was headed long before it had even started, “yours or mine?”

“Mine,” you insisted with a giggle which was quickly cut off by Javi pressing his lips roughly against yours. He tasted sweet, a mixture of alcohols lingering on his lips as he tried to control himself. It was hungry, needy even, primal in every sense of the word. But as his lips started to along your jaw, you couldn’t help the little comment that bubbled up, “I don’t trust yours. How many whores have you fucked in there? Or have you lost count?“

"How many strange men have you fucked in yours?” it was only a fair question after all. Besides that he didn’t know anything about you, besides your name and that he wanted you - badly.

“None,” you answered honestly, mildly surprised by his shocked reaction, “until tonight.”

“You’re not a-”

“No,” that you definitely were not, but you also hadn’t been with an endless slew of men either. There was something different about him though, something primal and instinctual that made you want him; need him, “you down or nah?”

“Let’s go,” he took your hand in his, in a surprisingly gentle manner, lacing his fingers through yours as he guided the two of you out of the overly crowded club. A sigh of relief left your lips as the cool air of the night hit you in the face. It was a much needed relief from the small cramped space inside.

That’s when reality hit you. You were actually going to go home with a man you barely knew. You were going to have sex with that man. The remaining logical bits of you were screaming for you to stop and reevaluate, but you were too far gone, lost to your carnal urges. You needed this, every part of your body and soul craved it. That and the growing ache and wetness between your legs were desperate for it.

He nodded in the direction of his car and you were quick to follow, complacent with him taking the lead. For as much attitude as you had given him in the club, you were definitely the opposite in the bedroom. To say you were submissive was not far off the mark.

Javier opened the door for you and you quickly jumped in, watching as he got in the driver’s side. You gave him your address and the engine roared to life as he sped off in towards your apartment. You were sure, positive rather, that he was definitely breaking several laws in his haste. Judging by the straining still going on in his pants, you could figure out why.

That’s when you got the most wicked idea. You didn’t know what possessed you or what sort of succubus suddenly inhibited your body, you found yourself reaching over, tracing your fingers along the outline of his hard on. He tensed up immediately and looked over at you with wide eyes, almost black because his pupils were so blown out with lust. It felt empowering to see what kind of a hold you already had on him. You tutted at him, a silent plea for him to keep his eyes on the road.

He peeled his eyes away from you and watched the road as you continued to tease him. Soon enough, you decided to be even bolder and undid the button of his jeans and unzipped them, when you realized he had forgone underwear completely. Of course.

You didn’t let that stop you, instead pulling out his hardened cock, trying to suppress the moan that was bubbling up at the delicious sensation. At least from the sight alone, the rumors regarding the prowess of the man and his cock were true. This was going to be an interesting time. He hissed through gritted teeth as he tried to focus on the road.

There was a devilish little smirk on your face as you spit into your palm and reached over to wrap your hand around his hardened member, which proved to be a bit of challenge. But once you were situated, you started to pumped your him, taking it slowly at first, as to not drive him completely crazy. Javier had swerved slightly at the initial contact but was doing his best to control himself. His knuckles were white from his tight grip on steering wheel.

It didn’t take long before a few beads of precum had started to dribble down his length, mixing in with your spit as you worked him towards release. Judging by the little moans that came out of his mouth he was close. That’s when you decided to pull away entirely, just to keep him on his toes.

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath as he realized what your little plan was. Luckily, you reached your apartment and he parked the car, looking at you with a flushed face.

“Hmm?” you hummed innocently as you looked him directly in those honey brown eyes, “what’s wrong?”

“You’re a little minx, huh?” he as you shrugged lightly, “I’ll get you back for this. Trust me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you watched as he tucked himself back into his pants slowly, trying not to touch his throbbing member too much. He had already been hard and ready, and your little bit of fun had left him with the beginnings of that familiar tug in the very depths of stomach. And yet you had edged him entirely. He wouldn’t forget that.

As soon as you gotten out of his car, he came over to your side and pushed you against the side, needy mouth on yours in seconds as he kissed you in a bruising manner, hands going down to your ass and squeezing the soft flesh tightly in his large hands.

You moaned into his touch as his moved down to kiss along your jaw and neck, already nipping at the delicate skin. All of his actions when straight to your core as you grew exponentially wetter. Your panties were surely ruined by now and you wondered for a moment why you had bothered to wear them at all.

You would have been content to let him continue on and practically have you been then and there, when realization snapped and you remembered where you were, “Javi! Stop!”

“Why?” he was being cheeky, as brought his head back up and pressed a few kisses to your lips as he pulled you flush against him so you could feel exactly what you had done to him.

“We’re in the middle of the street,” you hissed as you looked around to make sure no one had seen you, “anyone could see!”

“As opposed to your little stunt earlier?” he asked as he smacked your ass, causing you to make a sound of surprise.

“Fair enough,” you said as he smirked at you. You wiggled out from under him and took his hand and practically ran inside. Your whole body was burning with need and you honestly didn’t know how much longer you were going to be able to take the teasing before you resorted to finishing yourself off.

But Javier was right behind you, and as soon as you opened the door and were inside, he pushed you against the door, hands on your hips as he started to push your dress up, lips grazing over every bit of your exposed skin that he could reach. He settled on your collarbones, nipping and sucking at the soft just enough so that you knew there would be marks there tomorrow.

“Jesus,” you groaned as you tried not to completely fall apart under his touch, but trying to memorize the hell of his lips on your skins. When shaky hands, you reached over and started to undo the buttons of his well fitted button up. After a few moments you grew impatient, and pulled apart the rest of the buttons and tried to throw it off of his shoulders.

His lips left yours momentarily as he chuckled and threw his shirt off and onto your floor. His tan skin was soft and enough to drive you crazy as you just how hot he was. Reaching for him and running your hands over his chest, you tried to get him as close as possible to you, “eager, huh?”

“Shut up,” you groaned at him as you subconsciously ground your lips against, aching for some sort of friction.

He smirked as he effortlessly slid your dress the rest of the way up and tossed it into a pile along with his shirt. He took a moment to look you over, soaking up the sight of your almost bare form. Beautiful.

He pulled you against him, his kisses more rushed and bruising than before as he reached behind you and unhooked your bra, and you shimmied out of it, not breaking contact with him. He immediately brought his large hands to your breasts, kneading the soft flesh before playing with your already pert nipples, rolling and pinching them between his fingers.

You didn’t bother to hold back your moans at this point. Why try? He had an effect on you like no other; the way you reacted to his every touch was evidence enough of that. And your ruined panties; you could swear you were practically dripping at this point.

Javier dropped his mouth down to your chest, mouth latching onto your nipple as he licked and sucked in it, one hand on your other breast, making sure neither was neglected.

His free hand had started to drift down to the waistband of your panties, fingers toying along your soft skin. His eyes met yours for a moment, almost as if he was searching for permission, just to make sure you were ready. You gave him an affirmative nod and he slipped his hand into your panties, drifting over your mound and down your almost obscenely wet folds. He was grinning like the devil as he looked at you from under his lashes, running a few fingers through your slick, brushing over your clit ever so slightly. Purposely, no doubt. That didn’t stop from how you reacted to his touch, practically bucking into his hand.

“So wet,” he smirked against your lips as he continued to tease you. You wanted to fight against him, to be as bratty as possible, but it wasn’t in the cards tonight. That would he for next time, if there was even was such a thing, “all for me?”

“You wish,” you managed to choke out as you practically fucked yourself against his fingers as his lips explored your breasts. But he stopped immediately at your little comment and pulled his hand away from you, leaving you to pout at him. He pulled your panties down and you kicked them off to join the pile on the floor, “Javi-”

“No more until you decide to listen and behave,” the change in his voice, suddenly commanding and gruff, sent a shiver down your spine. Yeah, you were definitely melting like jelly, “are you gonna be a good girl?”

You looked at him with wide eyes as he brought a hand to your throat and squeezed lightly. It was the perfect amount of pressure and the sensation alone had your eyes fluttering closed as you chew on your bottom lip, giving him a small nod.

“Need to hear you say it. Are you gonna be a good girl?” he tilted your face up so you were looking at him. You swallowed thickly, trying not to get too lost in those dark eyes or his hungry expression.

“Yes,” you finally replied as he ran his thumb under the bottom of your lip parting them ever so slightly. You grabbed his wrist and stopped him, instead bringing a few of his fingers into your mouth and sucking on them, earning a wide eyed expression from him. Once they were good and wet, coating with your own spit, you took his hand and slowly brought it down your body, where you desperately needed him to touch you, “I’ll be a good girl.”

“Dios mio,” to say he was surprised by your actions was putting it mildly. But it seemed to spark something new in him. He dragged his fingers through your folds, almost achingly slowly, as he circled your clit, putting the lightest bit of pressure on it. You leaned into him and wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing and nipping along his jaw and neck. If he was going to leave some marks on you, you were going to do the same to him.

That and the fact that there was something intoxicating about his neck that was such a turn was enough to leave you wanting to make sure everyone knew you had been there. You wondered, momentarily, if his many other lovers had done this before, but you didn’t care. The only thing that currently mattered was this moment and nothing else.

“Javi,” you moaned in his ear just when you were getting to the point where you could no longer take the slow build up. He gave in and slowly inserted a few fingers into you, keeping the pad of his thumb on your clit, “fuck.”

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked as you dropped your head and buried your face into the crook of his neck, struggling to hold back your moans. He knew what he was doing, his fingers hitting all of the right spots as you rocked against him, “come on, I want to hear all those pretty moans. Let me hear how good you feel. You like fucking yourself on my fingers?”

“Mhmm,” a moan escaped your parted lips as you decided not to hold back your sounds any longer. You kissed along his collarbone, attempting to get as close to him as possible. His erection, which you were sure was probably nearing painful for now was pressed against you. You knew, giving your current desperation that you wouldn’t last much longer, and you needed to feel him in you, “Javi, please.”

“Please what? Tell me what you need, baby,” god, he knew exactly what to say as he slowly pulled his hand away. His eyes locked onto yours as his brought his fingers to mouth and licked his fingers clean. You were sure you’d died and gone to heaven at the sight, “cat got your tongue?”

“You,” you whispered and you reached for the button of jeans to try and pulled them off again. It didn’t even phase you that the two of you hadn’t made it past your living room. You’d been so caught up in the moment that it didn’t really even matter. Javi chuckled as he eagerly watched you in your struggle to quick rid him of the last remaining article of clothing, “need you.”

Once his jeans were undone, he quickly yanked them down his toned legs and kicked them to the side, another piece added to the collection of long forgotten clothes. Without even thinking twice, you sunk down to your knees, licking your lips at the sight of his cock, precum already beading out of the tip. He was much overdue for some attention.

You wrapped a hand around his base as you licked a stripe along his length, pleased by the little sounds that reached your ears. Slowly, oh so slowly, just to tease him, you started to take him in your mouth. You sucked and licked lightly at first, just as he had done to you to earlier.

Javi slowly started to thrust his hips in time with your movements as you finally gave in and took him fully into your mouth, almost gagging as he hit the back of your throat. Something primal in him must have snapped because before you knew it, his hands were tangled in your hair as he pushed you down his length and started to fuck your mouth.

Part of you wanted to pull off of him and reprimand him, but the way he took charge was more of a turn on than anything. So you let him carry on, letting him essentially use you as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes before rolling down your cheeks. You looked up at him through your eyelashes and found his eyes closed as he gnawed on his bottom lip. Shit.

You could tell he was getting close so as his thrusts were growing sloppier and sloppier, and you massaged his balls with the hand that wasn’t gripping his thigh.

“Fuck,” he whispered quietly; you would have smirked at him if you could have. Just before he came, his stopped moving and hoisted you to your feet. You let go of his cock with a reluctant pop as he picked you up. Instinctively, your legs wrapped around his waste as his large hands melded with the flesh of your backside. Even the light of his touches and the friction of his hardness rubbing against your wetness had you mewling. His lips found yours and they never seemed to leave his as he started walking towards the hallway in search of your bedroom.

“End of the hall,” you told him between kisses as he took care not to drop your or smack the against the wall, “hurry.”

“We’ve got all the time in the world,” he insisted, earning a scoff from you.

“If its going to take that much longer, I’ll just finish my-”

“No,” it was a firm command. A small sigh of content escaped your lips as he opened the door to your bedroom and laid you down on the bed. For how rough he had just been, he was surprisingly gentle; a duality that didn’t not go unappreciated. He stood over you for a few moments, drinking in the sight of you spread out for him, just like art. The small purple and blue marks that had already started appearing were just the icing on the top.

“Please,” you almost whined at him, wishing he would just take you and fuck you already, the slow build had you almost bursting, and you just wanted experience the feel of his famed cock.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” God, the way he smirked and raised an eyebrow at you was almost infuriating. You snaked a hand slowly down your torso and your towards your warm core, but he was swift and had a tight grip on your wrist almost instantly, pushing it out of his way, “am I going to have to tie you up?”

“Is that a threat?” you almost laughed, although the concept had its own appeal. You weren’t about to stop him at this point.

“It’s a promise if you don’t listen to me,” his lips made their way down your stomach as both of his hands found yours and held them at your side, his fingers laced through yours. You shivered with anticipation as he stopped just before reaching where you need him most, looking up and meeting your eyes. But before you could say another word or smart remark, his mouth found your center and your eyes shut at the feeling that flowed through your body. Warmth, nothing but warmth and desire went through every fiber of your being.

He liked a stripe up your soaked folds, taking his time to taste all of you. Your little moans were like music to his ears as he licked and sucked on your overly sensitive clit - finally. You ground your hips against his face, silently begging for more. He was working you like a starving man getting his first meal in ages, and he was determined to get every last drop.

He took one of your hands and brought it to his head; you tangled your fingers up in his dark locks, trying to get him as close to you as possible. You were close, so close, when you opened your eyes, “wait - I want to feel you inside me.”

Javi paused for a brief second, taking a moment to kiss and nip at the delicate skin of your thighs. He really was going to make sure you were marked everywhere, “you will. You can cum now, I know you’re close, chiquita. You’ve got multiple in you, right? Like a good girl?”

“Jesus,” his mouth was back on you before you could manage to say anything else. A man that knew what he was doing? A man that voluntarily ate you like it was his only job in life? A man that promised you multiple orgasms? Surely you must have ascended to get all of this.

Soon enough his fingers slipped inside you and you started seeing stars. Between the combined feel of his mouth on your clit and fingers curled up inside you and almost immediately finding your g spot, you were doomed from the start. You weren’t going last much longer, “J-Javi, ‘m close-”

“Then let go for me,” he murmured against you, the vibrations a pleasurable addition, “show me how good you feel.”

That was all you needed to hear before you pushed over the edge and finally found that sweet release that your body had been so desperately in need of. A slew of incoherent words and sentences left your mouth, as you writhed under him and Javi didn’t relent as he worked you through your orgasm. At that point you knew the rumors weren’t just rumors, they were truths; truths that would leave you singing his praises.

Once your breathing had evened out, he slowly let up, pulling back from you as he observed you in the afterglow of your release. His face was slick with your cum and juices, but he didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. You sat up, and scooted over to him, putting your hands on his shoulders and bringing him down to you. His lips crashed onto yours, more a mess of teeth and tongue in your haste as you laid back down, his body on top of yours. You could taste yourself on his lips, as he hummed contently against you. Bliss. This had to be what pure bliss was.

You could feel his cock brushing against you as he kissed with urgency and hunger. Although he had just sent you to another level, you couldn’t wait any longer to feel him inside you, “Javi...please.”

He knew exactly what you were saying, taking a moment to stop and kiss you gently, resting his forehead against yours. You grinned at him, running your hands down his back, raking your fingers down his warm skin. He took his cock in his hand, running it along your folds, before slowly starting to push in, making sure you were ready for him.

A small gasp escaped your lips at the delicious feeling of him finally inside you, stretching you in all the perfect ways. Javi had to stop himself from moving too fast, and not completely pound into you then and there, and buried his face in the crook of your neck, “god, you feel so good, so perfect.”

It took a moment before he bottomed out and stilled, enjoying how you felt around, holding onto him like a vice. He kissed every inch of your skin that he could reach, starting to move slowly, a moan spilling out every once in a while. You were holding him so tightly, nails scraping all over his back, surely leaving him with a reminder for the next several days. His hands were roaming all over your body, mapping every curve and contour as if he was trying to remember every bit of you.

“More,” it was like music to his years. He took it to heart as he increased his pace, bit by bit, until he was railing into you like it was a mission. The only sounds in the room were the sound of skin on skin, his grunts mixed with your moans, and the bed knocking against the wall. You worried momentarily if the bed was going to break, but you didn’t care. All you could focus on was the way Javi felt and the onset of your second orgasm. Surely your neighbors would be annoyed, but they could go to hell; you had listen to them go at it many times before, it was only fair that you got to experience some mindblowing sex once in a while.

Javier was close, you could feel his cock start to twitch within you as he thrust into you over and over again. He wasn’t going to last long, especially after all that teasing you had been doing.

“Where do you want it?” he asked as his hands found your breasts and started handling them roughly, pinching and rolling your nipples as his hips continued to snap into yours.

“Inside,” you met his eyes, and saw that they were almost black, a dark look in them as he realized what you said, “want to feel you cum inside me.”

“Fuck,” it was only a few more thrusts before he groaned and and stilled his hips as his seed coated your walls. It was a feeling like no other, true ecstasy as your walls clenched him and tried to get every last drop of out him. You reached your own high as he reached his, not a single coherent thought remaining. He kissed you sloppily as you wrapped your arms around his neck and held him close, coming down from your collective highs, “you feel so fucking good, this pussy must be magical.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you teased with a laugh as he slowly started to pull out of you. You frowned slightly at the loss, already missing how he felt, but it was quickly turned upside down as you felt some of cum started to drip down your leg. Holy shit; it was a wonderful feeling, “I guess what everyone says about you is true. A man with a cock that knows how to use it.”

“Did you expect disappointment?” he raised an eyebrow as he watched you slip of bed and stretch. Between your time at the club and your animalistic sex, you were spent, and well over due for a shower. Which gave you another wicked idea...

“No,” you promised, “but I still like getting personal knowledge. Hands on experience...”

You headed towards the bathroom, stopping in the doorway and looking back at him, “I need a shower. You coming?”

He was up and at your side within a matter of seconds as you took his hand and lead him towards your bathroom. You could have sex and get clean at the same time, right? What better way to find out then hands on experience, after all.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Tags: @thisis-theway (not tagging my regular taglist, since I know not everyone enjoys smut!)

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier peña #javier peña x reader #reader insert #narcos #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #oh yes this what you've been promised and waiting for #sooo...enjoy

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ceilingfan5 · 4 years ago

Note

I wish you would write a fic where Taako is a prince and Kravitz is his (new) dressmaker... (or switched!)

Kravitz has been a couturier for several years now, making fancy clothing for higher and higher echelons of royal society, but he never, never in a century thought he would be hired to outfit the Prince. He knows he’s talented, but as their first meeting rapidly approaches, a black horse thundering down the cobblestone path straight for him, he worries if he’ll be good enough to outfit the future king of his fucking country.

Let alone what the Prince will be like.

He dreams of a charming Prince that kisses his hand and makes his cheeks grow hot, and he frets about a dastardly Prince that treats him like dirt and makes him sew and resew his outfits, but he never could have imagined that his Prince would be somewhere in the middle.

“Just call me Taako,” he says, with a little smirk that makes Kravitz’s heart beat like the drums at the parade the Prince has to look perfect for in less than a week. “And let’s get to it.”

“Of course, my P- ...Taako.” Kravitz doesn’t know how to handle this situation. It’s nothing like what he was prepared for, and he worries that if someone overhears him being overly familiar, his career and maybe even his attachment to his neck will be over. It’s a lot of stress to put on a guy with a habit for putting needles between his teeth.

He measures Taako first, noting the numbers and drawing up possibilities in his head. Then comes the ideas phase, where Taako picks a color and the fabric and the adornments and smiles and looks Kravitz right in his delicate eyes and changes everything.

“I want a dress,” he says.

“A dress?” Kravitz echoes, voice far away from him as the realities of that request dawn on him. The public reaction...his reputation...

“Is that a problem?” Taako regards him over his perfect fingernails, which he’s pretending to check for any possible flaws.

Kravitz imagines the publicity. He imagines the renown. He imagines Taako, sparkling and resplendent as he waves his way down the parade route, and he smiles.

“Not a bit, my Prince. Dresses are so much more interesting than suits.”

“Good. And like I said, call me Taako.”

It’s several days of nonstop work, and Kravitz can only have Taako try it on a few times--Princes are busy creatures. His blood, sweat, and tears go into that glittering monstrosity, and by the time he’s finished, he’s satisfied the damn thing is perfect, or as near to perfect as his mortal soul can achieve in less than a week.

At the final tailoring, Kravitz watches Taako’s face light up, and he knows in his heart that he did his job right.

“It’s perfect,” Taako tells him, and then the real surprise--he kisses Kravitz on the lips in his excitement, laughing and pulling away to spin the skirt like a child. Kravitz stands there, absolutely stunned, until Taako starts to get nervous. “What? Is there a problem? I’m not going to apologize, I-”

“There really is no one like you, is there, Taako?”

“I should fucking hope not,” he says, shifting idly from one foot to the other. “They say I’m pretty goddamn important.”

“Well, you certainly look it.” Kravitz smiles, resisting the urge to touch his lips. “If you’re satisfied and I’ve gotten all of my pins, then, I, well, I...I must be off.”

Taako frowns.

“Must you?”

“Do you need something else tailored?”

“Well, I...” Taako chews his lip. “I still need to test it properly, don’t I?”

“What more needs to be done?”

“It needs to be danced in. And… If- if you don’t mind- If I didn’t scare you off- if-”

“I’d love to dance with you, Taako.” Kravitz smiles. “You don’t think people will object to it, do you? A dressmaker and a Prince?”

“If they have a problem, they can shove it. I’m the Prince and what I say goes, and what I want is a dance with my gorgeous couturier right after my parade.” Taako puts his hands on his hips, or rather tries to and loses them in all the ruffle and puffle. Kravitz laughs.

“As you wish, my Prince.”

“Call me-”

“Oh, I will.”

#taz #tazb #taz balance #the adventure zone #the adventure zone balance #taakitz #fan5fics #finally......i have achieved an empty inbox and can have peace

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

Text

Or The Thought Of You? (A’Whora/Joe Black) - Juno

Summary: Aurora has a chance encounter with the singer in the bar which leaves her wanting more.

I hope you like this slightly late submission for the rarepair songfic challenge! The song in question is Nightwish’s Slow Love Slow.

For once Aurora was early.

It gave her time to take in the optics of the bar she sat at, warm amber light that illuminated the deep mahogany finishing, sophistication clinging to it and to the air. There were so many bottles of spirits in the back behind the bar, spirits with names she could barely think of how to pronounce. On the stage, a live band played soft jazz music - a piano, a double bass, a cello - with gentle precision that was just distinguishable over the delicate chatter of everyone around her.

The clientele, evidently from another era, Aurora was surrounded by a sea of form-fitting Donna Karan dresses and Rolex watches. Aurora thought she looked like she blended in, at least in appearance, in the long black dress with the slit up the leg and the patent black stilettos she’d ‘borrowed’ from her housemate, gold trim accentuated by her earrings, her hair still in its perfect shape.

But she stood out a mile because she was early , or maybe the other two were just late . Leaving her on her own, alight like a lighthouse or so she felt.

When Tia had suggested this place one lunch break, it had been a half-hearted joke, too posh for them and full of rich folks, but then Lawrence had piped up that she’d always wondered what it was like inside, so now all three of them were come down for the night, along with Tia’s flatmate Tayce. It sounded like a laugh. Live cabaret, posh drinks, and unpronounceable cocktails on the enormous menu with tiny writing that Aurora had in her hands right now.

The barman came to Aurora eventually, and she ordered herself a cosmo, the only one she recognised (even though she’d never tried one), enjoying watching the other bar staff shaking cocktail mixers as she waited, and when it was served to her on its own little napkin, Aurora felt like she’d fallen into a Bond film. Maybe she had.

For a split second she saw herself as a Bond girl, but the illusion was quickly shattered as she reached for the drink; it went flying, knocked across the bar by a hand, waved emphatically from a woman who had appeared on her right.

By some miracle Aurora seemed to have missed getting soaked, but her wrist was seized by a hand in a powder-blue opera glove and squeezed in condolence. Aurora was met by a pair of grey eyes, framed by pencil-thin eyebrows, and a peplum gown that matched her gloves in colour.

“I’m dreadfully sorry for that,” the woman said earnestly. “Let me get you another.”

Aurora was taken aback by how much this woman’s low but melodic voice made her scalp tingle. It made her want her to keep talking. But - is it … - Aurora inhaled when she realised. The blue gown with the white tuxedo embellishment, the quaffed red hair in victory rolls? She knew this person. She’d seen her before. She was plastered on the posters on the windows of this place, her name in that gilded-age font …

“Joe Black?”

Joe turned back to Aurora at her whisper of realisation, an impish smile spreading across her face at Aurora’s awed voice.

“In the flesh, darling!”

Joe threw back her head and cackled, a garish contrast to the silkiness of her voice. Aurora expected the clientele around her to stare, but no one batted an eyelid at her outburst.

“You - you’re -“

“Short?” Joe giggled, leaning closer to Aurora and dropping her voice lower. “I get that one all the time. That’s all people say to me when they see me. ‘ Oh, Joe, I thought you’d be much taller!’ ”

“No - I mean, you’re -“

But Aurora’s words vanished as the barman scurried over with Aurora’s new drink, and what looked like the same thing in the same Martini glass for Joe. Joe curled her fingers around the stem of the glass with delicate precision, swiveling on her stool to face Aurora dead on.

“Here’s to …” Joe shook her head and waved a hand dismissively, “… I don’t know, Glenn Close. First person that came to mind.” And she smirked, before raising her glass to cheers with Aurora and then to her lips, her eyes holding Aurora’s as she did the same.

Aurora almost choked on her sip as Joe continued to drink, until she had almost drained the glass, licking her lips and sighing contentedly.

“What the -“

“It’s my usual, darling. Don’t worry! It’s only water!” Joe threw back her head and laughed again. “You wouldn’t think I’d want any liquid courage before taking my place on stage, would you? Ah, no - the old Joe Black, now - she was a bit of a boozy cow, but nowadays, it doesn’t do one’s reputation any good to be plastered before your first song!”

The odd lyrical quality to her voice made Aurora convinced she was putting on a character, but she couldn’t deny that she found Joe’s eccentricity utterly fascinating, found herself being drawn towards her aura.

“Why don’t you order just a normal glass then?” Aurora asked, not even trying to hold back her amused smile.

“Well, because - I’m sorry, darling, I didn’t catch your name.”

Joe had shuffled her stool closer to her now, resting a gloved hand on top of Aurora’s where it lay at the base of the Martini glass.

“Aurora.”

“Ah. As in Borealis.” Joe let out an exaggerated sigh, her eyes misting as if with memories. “A thing of glory. Illuminating the Arctic skies. Did you know that they can come as far south as here? Well, not Brighton,” she added with a wry smile, “but here in a broad sense.”

“I - no?”

“Well anyway, Aurora - I would order water in a plain tall glass, but I do like the martini glasses, gives it an air of splendour. Matches my style. After all, why would I want to shatter any illusions? No one here seems to want to have their illusions shattered, don’t you think?”

Joe gestured to the people around them, none of whom were looking at them, all in their own worlds with those around them, the chatter and the music threading between them all.

“It’s all an illusion, isn’t it? This space here, all these people, they’re all on their own stages. All their own performers. Even you!” Joe winked. “Life is a stage, we’re the actors.”

Aurora blinked in wonder, rendered speechless. But something about Joe still fascinated her. Aurora took another drag of the cosmo, her tongue loosening more and more.

“What’s your excuse then? Is this all an act too? Is Joe Black just an act?”

Joe just chuckled, the sound deep in her throat sounding a little sinister, and Aurora watched as finger by finger, Joe slid the opera glove off her left arm, revealing more tattoos than Aurora would have ever thought, all the way down her arm and onto her fingers.

“Maybe the patrons of the establishment wouldn’t care if they saw their cabaret act in tattoos, but the illusion that I’m a proper lady singing jazz atop a grand piano apparently needs to be an illusion in itself. Although the management didn’t say I couldn’t use my David Bowie dress, especially if it’s Bowie I’m singing.”

Joe was nudging the tips of Aurora’s fingers with the tips of her own, smiling through her eyelashes, her eyes full of mischief.

Aurora found herself slightly tongue-tied, but her voice came back to her eventually. “Did they hurt? The ones on your hand? I wanted to get one there, but my friend says they hurt a lot more than what they’re worth and they never stay too long.”

Stupid question, Aurora.

“They feel like having your hands dipped in warm honey, darling.”

Aurora frowned. “Really?”

“No, not really.” Joe cackled. “They all bloody hurt! But beauty is always pain.”

“Not always,” Aurora protested. “I’m not in pain.”

“Indeed,” Joe said softly, and Aurora felt her thumb slide into the palm of her hand. “Look me in the eyes and tell me those shoes aren’t killing you.”

Aurora met her eyes, triumphant. “My feet are fine. Thank you very much.”

“Really?” Aurora could feel Joe’s thumb on a tender spot in the centre of her palm, one that made the rest of her hand tingle. “I’m not convinced. Body language. These sorts of things give people away, you see, in a way that speaking will not. And really, the body language of everyone here?”

Joe’s eyes glittered, wicked and smug. Aurora was still acutely aware of the sensation of Joe’s thumb on her palm, responding by curling her fingers around Joe’s, and as she leaned closer, Aurora found herself frozen as Joe’s lips found her ear, her voice a slow whisper, sending another tingle down from her scalp down her spine, causing her to shudder.

“Everyone’s faking it, darling!”

And with that cackle, right at the back of her throat, Joe let Aurora’s hand go, drained the rest of the water from the Martini glass, and sauntered away from the bar, swinging her hips exaggeratedly, her laughter floating away behind her, but Aurora noticed that no one else turned to look at her.

It was almost as if she wasn’t even there. Aurora was left staring after her, shuddering again, her skin suddenly warm and tingly …

“A’Whora! Wakey wakey, eggs and bloody bakey!” Tayce was snapping her fingers under Aurora’s nose before Aurora noticed that she’d appeared, brows furrowed; and Tia behind her had tilted her head to one side.

“What’s bitten you, Aurora? You looked as if you’ve seen a ghost!”

Aurora blinked, her eyes darting between them both. “You - you saw her, right?”

“Who?” Tayce turned once to the direction Aurora looked, before whipping her head back to face her. “You feeling alright? How many did you have while you were waiting for us?”

“Shut up!” Aurora giggled, giving Tayce a gentle shove, which was reciprocated with a gleeful chuckle. “Where’s Lawrence?”

“Just went to the loo.” Tia pointed. “She’d better hurry up, she’s gonna miss the beginning!”

The lights were dimming. All eyes and all attention was turning to the stage, a hush developing around the bar and the room, as the sound of heels on the wooden stage drew nearer.

The crowd clapped politely as Joe Black came on, beaming down at them all, her smile wide and glorious. She paused to toss one of the victory rolls from her shoulder, before wrapping her fingers around the microphone stand and putting her lips millimetres from it.

“Good evening. I hope you are all having a wonderful time tonight. I am Joe Black, and this is my … microcosm of wonder.”

And even just the greeting, the low deep voice, was enough for tingles to spread down from the base of Aurora’s scalp once again.

“Is that the ghost you saw, Rory?” Tayce teased. “Because she doesn’t look like one from here!”

But before Aurora could say a word, the pianist hit the first note of Life On Mars, and the whole room was mesmerised by her. Not a soul spoke, not a whisper, just Joe commanding the stage, quiet but enrapturing at once.

Maybe not a ghost, but there was definitely something … otherworldly about her.

Aurora craved more.

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #uk2 #joe black #a'whora #a'whora x joe #tia kofi #tayce #bar au #rare pair #song fic #fic challenge #juno

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chaos-in-bright-pink-hair-dye · 3 years ago

Text

The stars still shine as bright

So, @ordinary-dust happy fucking birthday! Since I can't give you a gift irl I wanted to at least write or draw something for you and well why not both actually. I love you and here have this Kobrastar so that you don't have to create all the content for this ship yourself as you said XD

It isn't easy to be brought back into a world that is nothing like the one you left twelve years ago but in the end it doesn't seem as hopeless when you have your partner by your side.

wordcount: 1358

warnings: death mention

Kobra wiped his hands to get rid of the grease and dust, there was something wrong with 27 and he, for the love of the Witch, couldn’t figure out what. He checked and took apart everything at least twice looking for broken gearing, corroded parts, exchanged all the belts and hoses and just couldn’t find what’s bothering his bike so much. Everything seemed in perfect condition yet she always whined and growled in a way that made Kobra’s soul ache when he tried starting her and his inability to fix it was driving him crazy.

The twelve years of standing under a sheet, getting dusted on, uncared for, becoming another ghost of the past really took a toll on her, it was wonder no one stole her, actually. He could probably thank Cherri or Dr. D for that, he was a legend in the zones of course, but when you’re a killjoy there’s no respect for your things after you die, someone needs them more and there’s no arguing with that so no matter how great The Fabulous Killjoys were none of their stuff would be left if it wasn’t for the radio crew.

It was weird to wake up into a world without them, Kobra knew them since his first day in the zones, he couldn’t imagine the desert without Dr Death’s broadcast blasting from the radio on long rides, without Cherri stopping by to brag about another clap he barely made it out of alive or without Newsie’s familiar laugh on the waves. But it’d been three months and they were really gone. And so was BL/Ind. It didn’t feel right, it was all they fought for, all they died for but it just didn’t feel right. The Girl did defeat them and now that there was no revolution, there was no need for four mismatched teens who knew nothing than running on gasoline and gunpowder, there was no place for them anymore, they were out of their time, imprints of the past somehow brought back, lost and trying to find their place in the world they didn’t know and that didn’t need them. They couldn’t go back to their old lives, there were no old lives to go back to after all, but they couldn’t go back to the city either, they simply didn’t belong.

‘Hey, Speed, want some help? Can’t stand the wailing anymore’ familiar cheerful voice from behind Kobra’s back jerked him out of his thoughts. How long has he been staring into nothingness? He quickly glanced around, the ground was still covered in spare parts, misplaced pieces of metal and plastic and screws, and he was still holding the cloth covered in motor oil, now more brown and grey than white, one tear rolling down his cheek, he quickly wiped it of before turning to Jet smirking in the way that earned him his reputation and name, teeth bared and every word dripping with venom that wasn’t really meant: ‘Thought ya were outside helping Party and Ghoul with the car, needs care too. And knowin’ Ghoulie it could be putting a bomb under the hood and not that I wouldn’t like bein’ dead but few more days’d be nice.’ but he knew Jet noticed the movement of his hand, the slight tremble in his voice, he always did.

‘Can’t take a break to visit my favourite crewmate?’ Jet rolled his eyes leaning on the doorframe ‘Plus Party and Ghoul were throwing hands over some fuckin’ bullshit as usual when I left so ‘s your brother I’d be worried about.’ the older killjoy laughed. His laugh died away turning into a warm smile as his eyes got caught on something on Kobra’s chest. Kobra loved Jet’s smiles, he didn’t smile often, at least not when anyone could see him but on the rare occasions when he did Kobra could swear the desert sun didn’t feel so bright in comparison anymore.

‘You really never go anywhere without it huh?’ Jet uttered with amazement as he walked slowly to the younger killjoys still not lifting his gaze from the small ring of gold hanging from Kobra’s neck on an old beat-up chain, the metal shining bright in the dim lighting of the room. ‘I know how much it means to you. And... it means a lot to me.’ Kobra whispered softly wrapping his own hand around Jet’s, he could feel the heat radiating from his skin, Kobra’s hands were always cold but but Jet’s burned with the warmth of thousand stars and Kobra would like to pretend it was the only reason he like being close to Jet so much but everyone knew it wasn’t true.

‘Zone rats like us might not really praise these but it was your mother’s and… and I appreciate this so much yk.’ He smiled at Jet who finally looked up and back at him, sometimes Kobra forgot how beautiful Jet Star really was. He might be covered in sand and dust, infinite scars covering every part of his body, his bright blue and purple hair not really so vibrant anymore and his eyes clouded with worries and stress even tho he tried to bury them deep underneath loud laughs and ironic remarks but again and again Kobra realized he’d never seen anyone more beautiful than the boy standing in front of him, every little imperfection making him love him even more.

‘Maybe I wasn’ talkin’ about 27 before, Kobes.... You’re not really yourself, I can see it.’ Jet whispered laying his hand gently on Kobra’s cheek, worries visibly reflecting on his face. 'None of us is okay, Star.’ Kobra snickered as he wrapped his arms around the older boy’s shoulders pulling him closer. He missed hugging Jet, he missed his smell, he missed the strength he hugged him back with that made him feel so safe.

‘Is true.’ Jet had to admit, none of them really felt like themselves but how could that be of any surprise. How could you feel completely okay waking up after over a decade of being dead. ‘Doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun, hm. Just the two of us. Party and Ghoul will find a way to entertain themselves and maybe if we’re lucky they won’t even burn the whole place down.’ Jet laughed winking at Kobra, bright blue curls falling into his eyes before he left a butterfly like kiss on the side of his neck. 'Heard there’s a party in The Nest tonite, how about we take the AM. Haven’t seen ya wear that pretty red dress in a while’ this time Kobra was the one to kiss Jet on the corner of his mouth smiling as he saw the bright blush on his cheeks covered in freckles. He always thought it looked like the night sky somehow found its way onto his pretty face and wondered how his name matched him so perfectly in so many ways.

‘Sounds nice, Shiny’ he kissed his partner again before sliding his ring from the necklace and back onto his finger where it belonged. They did have their beads to prove their pledge but he always liked the way their rings were special and he never took his off unless there was a high chance, he could lose it and even in that case he still kept it close to him tucked safely underneath his t-shirt.

‘Okay, by the car in fifteen. Gotta get those two boogies of our tails’ Jet winked and Kobra before quickly disappearing into the dark hallway and Kobra had to smile. He had to smile ‘cause he loved the boy so damn much and Destroya fuck it now he really had to go find the red dress. He had to smile ‘cause he knew Jet would look beautiful in the fifteen minutes they agreed on casually leaning on the white car he praised so much with glitter in his hair, his eyes shining in the setting sun and smiling in such a way that everything around would seem to disappear. And everything could be fucked but it didn’t really matter when he had Jet Star by his side again.

ID: Digital drawing of Kobra Kid and Jet Star slow dancing and lovingly smiling at each other. Kobra has his right arm on Jet's shoulder and his left hand in his hair and Jet is holding Kobra by his waist, Jet is a little bit taller than Kobra and their noses are only few centimetres away from each other. Kobra Kid is wearing red dress and has two little black stars painted on his cheekbone. Jet Star is wearing a black crop-top and his curly hair is black at the top turning purple and blue the longer it gets, he also has glitters on his nose, cheeks and in his hair. The background is a gradient going from yellow in the middle of the image through purple to black at the edges, the yellow functioning as a backlighting giving Kobra and Jet warm yellow rim lighting. There are little white blurred lights all across the scene. /End ID

#I'll admit this might be a little put together on the knee since I literally did all of this today #and am not the best at writing romance in general #but hey as long as it's less weird than romantic scenes in glass throne it's fine right XD #btw idk why did I decide to put it into post comics guess it just seemed like a good placing for some wholesome stuff right #also sorry for kidna changing the rings I know they have different ones in you headcanon dust but hopefully you'll forgive me #but yeah hope you like it and happy birthday again #kobra kid #jet star #ttlotfk #ttlofk #danger days #killjoys #my writing #my posts

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clarosowrites · 4 years ago

Text

Mistletoe (Adam x f!Detective)

Adam stood at parade rest against the wall, dispassionately watching the other attendees of the Wayhaven Holliday Party. Most of the town was here, mingling in the festively decorated Mayor's mansion. A jazz band played Christmas music in the next room.

He had thankfully avoided any sparkles in the outfit tonight. His simple red button down and black suit was extravagant enough for him, though Felix disagreed, trying to force him to wear a sequined tie. He easily spotted the youngest member of the team in his glittering silver suit. He was kneeling next to one of Mr. Verde's children, smiling as she showed him her dredile.

With any luck, that would keep him busy the rest of the night.

Mason was...somewhere. Probably skirting the edges of the party, like him, or drinking. And he knew Nate planned to make rounds with Agent McClaran, socializing with the citizens.

Their handler claimed being at the party would help their reputation, which was apparently less than stellar. Adam thought it was pointless. Unit Bravo had been in Wayhaven for over a year, the town's opinion of them was likely set by now. It didn't matter anyway--they didn't need anyone's approval to protect the town.

Suddenly, the sound of a single heartbeat reached his ears.

His shoulders dropped. Even through the music and the noise of the crowd, he'd recognize her.

Adam fought back a smile as warmth flooded his chest. It had only been a week since they saw each other last, but he'd felt the Detective's absence acutely. A week was nothing, a blink of the eye to him usually. Yet, in the two months he and Catherine had started courting--he refused to call it such an insignificant term like dating--time had stretched in odd ways. A day with her seemed like barely five minutes. Every day apart was spent waiting for the next.

He turned to the entrance. His fingers tapped a nervous staccato against his arm as he scanned the crowd for her.

The mass of people parted and revealed Catherine like clouds parting for the sun.

Red fabric hugged her figure. The dress dipped low in the front, flowed past her hips and flared around her knees. She seemed to glow under the twinkling lights, her already statuesque figure even more noticeable in red. Her hair curled around her face, soft and loose in a way that made his fingers itch to touch--

He cleared his throat as she approached. "Detective."

Her smile was strained as she slipped her hand into his. This close, he realized she wore heels--she stood several inches taller than him and he had to tilt his head back to meet her eyes.

"I'm never letting Tina dress me, ever again." She hissed through clenched teeth. Her lips were painted red to match the dress. "I look like a big red elephant."

"That's absurd." He said and pulled her a step closer.

Catherine ducked her head, turning away from the crowd. She pulled at the dress's neckline. The material was practically molded to her skin, though, and she gave up with a frustrated huff.

"Adam, this dress is way too revealing for a work party!" She gestured up and down her body. "And I shouldn't have to wear heels!"

It was less modest than her usual outfits, true, the Detective preferred turtlenecks and long sleeved shirts most days, but he'd seen several women tonight with more skin on display.

She always looked perfect, even in her messy workout clothes. But he was biased. Besides, he'd asked if she looked appropriate, not his personal feelings on her appearance.

"You look..." He swallowed down the breathtaking and stunning that strained at his throat, "nice. And the height is appealing."

"Really?" She picked again at the dress.

He took her other hand to stop her fussing and smiled. "Are you calling me a liar, Detective?"

"No." Catherine admitted. She pursed her lips. "You're sure I look okay?"

Far better than okay, he thought. "I promise. It's appropriate for the occasion."

"Just what every girl wants to hear." She said sarcastically, the tension easing from her.

"I apologize." He squeezed her hands and smiled up at her. "I'm out of practice in giving compliments."

"Lucky for you, I'm not used to receiving any." She grinned. "I think we'll get along just fine."

A sharp whistle grabbed his attention. He turned to see Tina, grinning next to Felix in a sequined gold dress and pointing above their heads.

...where a tiny spring of mistletoe hung.

Adam's mouth went dry. For everything they had shared, confessions and open souls and lazy afternoons, they had yet to go any farther physically. She would press her lips to his cheek as a goodbye, occasionally, or to his hand as she held it, but they hadn't kissed. Actually kissed.

"Come on, Adam, plant one on her!" Felix called.

He snapped his head around to glare at him, trying to ignore the warmth flooding his cheeks.

Cat sighed. He stiffened as she place a hand on his shoulder and dipped her head to brush her lips across his cheek. The touch burned like it always did, like hot wax pressed onto his skin. His breath caught in his throat.

She walked towards Tina without glancing at him. "Happy?" She asked.

He didn't hear her response as they moved away, focused on his evening out his breathing. He did, however hear Felix's laugh.

"What." He snapped at the younger vampire.

Felix grinned even wider. "You look like you just face down a stake to the ribs instead of kissing the girl you like."

"She is not--"

"What?" He arched an eyebrow. "A girl? Who you like?"

"You make it sound so juvenile." He scoffed.

"It is juvenile if you act like your girlfriend has cooties." He gestured to the Detective's retreating figure. "Do you even want to kiss her?"

"We are taking this slow." He grit out.

"There's slow and there's glacial, Adam."

Nate appeared at Felix's side with a smile. "I think Mason's going to spike the punch. Felix, can you keep an eye on him?"

"Sure, boss man!" He saluted.

Adam sighed as they watched him wander off into the crowd.

"You realize Felix is only going to encourage him."

"Yep. I thought I'd rescue you, actually."

"And not interrogate me about my love life at all, correct?"

"At least you're admitting it exists! Finally!" He laughed. Adam couldn't help but grin.

Over his short relationship with Catherine, Nate had been his sounding board for practically everything. Planning dates, dissecting conversations--anything at all that involved Cat--Adam had applied himself with a military precision and Nate had helped. No matter how ridiculous his request, he'd helped

Nate nudged him with an elbow. "Really, though. You couldn't ask for a better set up than mistletoe on New Year's Eve. Why the hesitation?"

"Besides having a crowd?" He asked. "I need more time to plan it."

"Whenever you get around to it, its not going to be perfect."

"Perfect is what she deserves." Adam said defensively.

He shook his head and laughed. "I think you're just scared."

"Scared."

Creatures more ferocious than Nathaniel Sewell have cowered under the glare that Adam gave him. Nate just smiled.

"Yeah. Chicken?"

"Are you daring me to kiss the Detective?" He asked incredulously.

"It is working?" He grinned and clapped him on the back. "Carpe diem, old friend. No time like the present."

Adam cursed under his breath as his best friend walked away. He was right. He was scared, more scared since he met Catherine than he'd been in the past 900 years. Scared of himself and terrified of the uncertainty that haunted every interaction.

But when did that stop him from doing anything?

"Damn it."

After a military acquisition of a certain decoration and ten minutes of searching, he managed to find the Detective in the kitchen, away from the rest of the party.

"Catherine?"

She looked up at her name and smiled. "Hey Adam."

She perched on the granite counter, swinging her bare feet under her. She fanned herself with an old magazine.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"Those heels are killing me." She nodded to the black shoes on the floor. "And...there's a lot of booze in there."

"Ah." He frowned. "I cannot assist with that."

She shrugged, pushing her hair back and off her shoulders. "Its okay."

He took a steadying breathe and forced himself across the kitchen. Standing in front of her, he saw the uncertain tilt of her head and the way she unconsciously leaned into him.

"Catherine." He said again.

"Adam." She grinned. "What's going on?"

He cleared his throat, his mind suddenly blank. His fist clenched around the greenery he held.

"What's that?" She brought his hand up and he opened it, revealing the mistletoe.

Confusion flashed across her face. It transformed to delight and amusement as he slowly lifted it above their heads. He took the final step to close the gap between them, her knees pressing into his thighs.

She smiled, and god, he could loose himself in that smile, adoring and open and everything he doesn't deserve. And then she slid one hand up his chest, the other curling around the back of his neck, his skin burning underneath her touch, even through his clothes. His eyes fell shut--blocking out everything else but the feel of her hands.

At the first brush of her lips on his, Adam shuddered. At the second, he leaned into her, the mistletoe falling from his hand so he could cup her jaw. Fuck--if he thought her touch before was burning, then this was a brand. Her kiss seared into his lips and he wanted it to, for her to leave her mark on his skin that matched the one on the inside of his chest and--

She pulled away. He moaned at her absence, some small, broken thing that he couldn't bring himself to care about.

He chased her mouth, only halted by the hand pushing on his shoulder, a silent stop.

"We..." She said unsteadily, and he opened his eyes just to see her wet her lips and swallow. "We should..."

He nodded. "Get back to the party." It would be less than impressive if someone found the Detective in a compromising position, as much as he wanted to create one.

He dared to press for one more kiss, firm and swift, before lifting her from the counter. As he set her on her bare feet, she looked dazed.

"Right." Cat straightened her dress and slipped into her shoes. "Do I look okay?"

"You're beautiful." He said. "I should have said that earlier. Stunning."

"You big flirt." She accused, smiling broadly.

Her fingers curled around his collar. "I only have to stay for another hour or so. Maybe we could...go back to my apartment and hang out."

"I would like that." He murmured, leaning his forehead against hers.

"Okay." She stepped back. "Stay out of trouble until then."

"I will." He promised, dropping her hand reluctantly.

"Bye."

With a final wave, she slipped out of the kitchen and out of his sight. He leaned against the counter and sighed happily. He could rejoin the party in a few moments--for now, Adam closed his eyes and let himself follow her heartbeat.

#Detective Catherine McClaran #Adam du Mortain #A du Mortain #A #A romance #twc #the wayhaven chronicles #wayhaven #Adam x Detective #Adam du mortain x detective #female detective #twc fic

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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 5 years ago

Text

The Switching Hour

A/N: it’s been just over a week since halloween but i finally got this piece done and i’m quite happy with it! :D i hope you guys enjoy and feedback is always welcome and cherished!! ilyyyy

masterlist | ask

word count: 8.4k

content: dramatic perfectionist demon!h, fluff, and a lil bit of smutty sexual tension

preview:

Her voice chimes up, prickly with annoyance and just the slightest bit of awe. “Are you always this picky when it comes to your Halloween costume?”

Harry rubs the material of a Jack Skellington pantsuit between his thumbs and forefingers, humming in absentminded disapproval at the flimsiness of the fabric. “Always.”

“Why?”

He drops the article of clothing, watching it sway back and forth on its hanger for a second before glancing up to meet her irritated expression, answering with a prideful undertone. “Because Halloween is the best holiday of the year and I’ve built quite the reputation for myself amongst my group. I always outshine and I tend to keep it that way, darling.”

Y/N rolls her eyes lightly, crossing her arms loosely over her chest. “Right, I forgot how competitive you are.”

“Actually, I like the praise,” Harry gives her a slow, sultry once-over, lips buckling with a sly smirk, “but you already knew that.”

Her arms tighten instinctively across her body.

Harry goes back to filtering through hangers, scrunching his nose in distaste at yet another Dracula ensemble. Drac never even wore a cape, he preferred tapered vests. He was the one who taught Harry how to style flared pants centuries before they came into fashion. With the way humans stained his cherished outfit designs, he’d be rolling around in his grave right now if he had one. He wasn’t even a vampire— just a crossroads demon with a very peculiar taste in beverages.

Y/N toys with the visor of an astronaut helmet, staring at her warbled reflection in the grey plastic and sighing with defeated boredom. “Why don’t we just get the Purge masks and go?”

Harry gives her a look of incredulous disdain. “And cover up one of my most prized assets? I’d rather let a hellhound disembowel me again.”

///

Harry was aiming to be an angel.

Well, not literally. Hell forbid it, in his opinion. Most of them are wound so tight, they wouldn’t be able to fly if they tried.

Plus, he actually quite enjoys being a demon. Immortality, flexible work hours, free range of the human world, and not to mention a pretty sick gig with the sorcery. It’s a sweet deal, once you get past the decades of excruciating torture and training, of course.

So no, he’s not aiming to be a literal celestial being. Rather, he’s planning to be one for Halloween on behalf of Y/N’s approach to switch identities as a couple’s costume.

The idea had stemmed from when they had been walking around Party City a few days prior, trying to gain inspiration for the annual costume party a friend of Harry’s is hosting.

Y/N hadn’t really been keen on going, despite the invitation being extended to her through Harry. She felt like she never really fit right with her boyfriend’s inner circle and it was for an obvious factor: they were all demons.

She’d only ever gotten along with one demon before (granted, she’d only ever put effort into befriending this single one) and she was perfectly fine with that number. It isn’t that Harry’s friends treat her coldly in any way (they were pretty welcoming, much to her surprise), but she could practically drown in the awkward tension that milled whenever they had to interact. She stuck out of place in a painfully obvious manner and she refuses to force herself into bonding with them; it would just make the situation a whole lot worse.

The connection remained as a polite acquaintanceship, and from what Y/N could tell, both parties are more than happy for it remain as so.

Either way, Harry had managed to sway her into accompanying him. She wanted to give out candy to the children from the complex and he wanted her to be his plus-one, so a compromise was settled. They would hand out candy from six in the evening until eight, then get ready and leave for the party at nine.

After agreeing upon the terms, they’d spent well over forty minutes in pursuit for their costumes at the store.

The choices they had weren’t very compelling, according to Harry.

He outright refused to be a vampire, warlock, or werewolf— the overuse of the genres made them tacky. He’d rather be caught dead (a second time) than have to wear a cowboy hat, so that was a bust on Y/N’s part. No aliens, no zombies, no Frankenstein (which he filed under zombie and it was an entire five minute bicker session between them before Y/N finally let it go with an exasperated sigh).

No superheroes. He’d cycled through all of them already, including Black Widow. He looked great in a bodysuit, if he does say so himself.

Historic figures were a bore considering there isn’t anything truly scary about King Tut, other than his crippled foot and untimely demise. Animal costumes are for children, as well as ghosts and ghouls. Mummies were too messy.

Due to his selectiveness, they ended up circling the store five times, coming up empty-handed. Y/N had stopped giving him suggestions after he’d used a release spell to make her drop the Elvis wig she’d been inspecting.

Her voice chimes up, prickly with annoyance and just the slightest bit of awe. “Are you always this picky when it comes to your Halloween costume?”

Harry rubs the material of a Jack Skellington pantsuit between his thumbs and forefingers, humming in absentminded disapproval at the flimsiness of the fabric. “Always.”

“Why?”

Y/N rolls her eyes lightly, crossing her arms loosely over her chest. “Right, I forgot how competitive you are.”

“Actually, I like the praise,” Harry gives her a slow, sultry once-over, lips buckling with a sly smirk, “but you already knew that.”

Her arms tighten instinctively across her body.

Y/N toys with the visor of an astronaut helmet, staring at her warbled reflection in the grey plastic and sighing with defeated boredom. “Why don’t we just get the Purge masks and go?”

Harry gives her a look of incredulous disdain. “And cover up one of my most prized assets? I’d rather let a hellhound disembowel me again.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

He pulls a pirate costume out from the metal rack, eyeing it judgingly. “You don’t get crowned best costume every year without being dramatic.”

The outfit holds a decent aesthetic with the passable material and colorful gems. The embroidery on the cosmetically tattered vest holds up and there’s no stingy parrot accessory in sight, though the cheap plastic sword is a bust. He’ll have to rummage through his storage and find a real one (probably the one he used during the American Revolution). If he’s lucky, maybe it’ll still have some dried blood on it.

With a bit of smudged black eyeliner and a pair of silver hoop earrings, he just might strike gold at the party.

Best of all, the costume gives him an excuse to show off his broad chest (not that he needs one, but the fact that it adds to the genuinity of the look is a win).

“Harry, look.”

The giddy hilarity in Y/N’s voice draws his attention upwards from examining the purple buttons on the potential candidate.

She’d clad herself in a bright red glittering cape that goes down to her knees, the button of the collar a large pentagram and perched atop her head is a pair of bedazzled devil horns about five inches in height each. In her hand she holds the rest of the costume— an attachable pointed tail and a three foot tall blood red pitchfork.

“What do you think? Kinda reminds me of someone, but I can’t quite place my finger on it.” She looks up in faux thoughtfulness, tapping her chin for effect.

Harry’s cheeks twitch with a grin of endeared amusement, dimples blinking. “I think you look absolutely adorable. Although...”

He trails off as he drift towards her, tugging lightly at hem of the cape, looking past his girlfriend towards the array of other devil costumes. He reaches for another, pulling it out and holding it up for consideration, shrugging his brows suggestively. “I think I’d rather see you in this skimpy little red dress and fishnet stockings.”

Y/N’s eyelids droop into a stern scowl. “And I’d rather not have my ass hanging out in front of all your friends.”

“That’s the whole point, minx.” Harry holds the hanger up in front of her, humming admirably as an image swipes over the front of his eyes of her prancing around in a pair of glossy red-bottom heels, a pentagram choker, and some bold cherry-colored lipstick. “Just wanna show off my girl.”

Y/N shoves the garment back towards him, tone cocky and pointed. “If you like it so much, why don’t you wear it, then?”

He lowers his arm, slinking his head slightly to the side and tugging his bottom lip between his teeth, the edges of his mouth twitching cheekily. “I don’t think all my bits and pieces would fit inside these stockings properly.”

She unclasps the pin that holds the cape closed, pushing it off her shoulders as she sing-songs her words teasingly. “Won’t know until you try it.”

Harry puts the articles of clothing back into their designated spot. “You’re no fun.”

His focus dances to a few hangers down, a random twinkling nabbing his curiosity. He moves the surrounding pieces away with the back of his hands to get a better look, a smile creeping across his face at the fit.

“Hey, babe. What d’you think of this one?”

Y/N glimpses up from fiddling with the bendy devil tail, scoffing in entertained delight at the sight before her.

Harry stands with his elbow propped on the top of the metal clothing rack, his legs crossed at the ankles with the tip of his worn tan boot tapping at the sleek black floor beneath it. He’s decked himself out in full angel attire, a light-up, wire-supported halo flashing brightly above his head, alternating patterns between quick bursts of yellow light and longer, drawn-out fading. The wings across his back span about four feet in total, strewn with white and gold holographic feathers, some covered in glitter.

“I think you look dashing.”

Harry pushes off the metal rail, the whole set-up quaking a bit under his strength. He ambles over until he’s right in front of his girlfriend, holding his arms out to his sides grandly. “I think I look dashing, too.”

He then turns his torso to the side, propping his chin on his shoulder and batting his lashes, going for a faux effect of adorable pureness. “Personally, I feel like I’d blend right in.”

His eyes suddenly ink black, dark veins protruding under his waterline and snaking their way down his cheekbones. “I’m as innocent as they come.”

Y/N glances up at the ceiling with pretend mild annoyance, irises focusing back on Harry with the left corner of her lips curved, her sentence deadpan. “I beg to differ.”

Harry drops the act, a look of insulted shock painting over his features as he carefully removes the halo headband from his quiffed curls. “You don’t think I’d play off being a good angel?!”

Y/N reaches over his shoulder and gives the tip of one of the fluffy wings a signifying tug. “Frankly, I don’t think you’d get past the gates. You’d get smited on sight.”

He gently grabs the hand that was playing with a gold polyester feathers, sifting his fingers between her’s and thumbing over the back of her knuckles temptingly. He cocks his head sideways a tad, stepping forward until his chest is ghosting over Y/N’s, the air of his sultry words just barely caressing her lips. “Maybe you could sneak me in, then?”

Y/N squeezes his digits playfully, snorting softly. “And why would I do that? So you can wreak havoc in the dining hall?”

Harry releases a boyish giggle, the edges of his eyes crinkling as his nose scrunches. The childish grin slowly melts into a brazen smirk, teeth gnawing at the inside of his lower lip as some very explicit scenes bounce around the inside of his skull. He shakes his head lightly, making a low mm-mm sound to hint that he has other plans in mind.

“Want you to sneak me in so you can take me up to your room. Show me around a bit— beginning of the universe memorabilia sounds interesting.”

“Yet something tells me prehistoric rocks aren’t why you’d want me to sneak you up to my room.” She gives him a knowing stare, the pad of her thumb toying with the glossy black surface of his painted index nail.

“Well aren’t you a clever little thing?” Harry leans in closer, his lip piercing grazing the skin along her jaw, settling nice and snug right against her earlobe. Her blood feels like it’s boiling.

His whisper send tendrils of electricity revving across her temples and down her neck.

“You’re right, though. Honestly, I just wanna fuck you on your bed instead of mine, for once. Make you whine and whimper for me to let you cum, all right under your dad’s nose. Make you stain your sheets and leave a few nail notches on your headboard.”

“Harry, we’re in public...” Y/N’s urgent murmur is warm against his neck, causing him to whine deeply in the back of his throat as the heat washes down his jugular, leaving his ears tingling.

His voice is thick and full of gravel as he answers. “I know, makes it so much hotter.”

He pauses his breathing for a heartbeat and Y/N gets the sensation that he’s analyzing her. She then feels him press a conceited grin across the back of her jaw, his two front teeth nipping at her earlobe tauntingly. His tone is heavy with arrogant certainty. “You’re wet.”

She digs her nails into his knuckles, looking down at her feet out of embarrassed instinct. “Shut up.”

He ignores her request. “I’d have to muffle those pretty sounds you make— we both know how loud you are. Would cover your mouth with the palm of my hand while I spread your thighs with my hips and fill you up with my cock until you feel it at the pit of your tummy. I’d run my lips across your stinging nose and hot cheeks, hushing you and mumbling dirty things against your skin. Telling you what a good girl you are for me and how tight and warm you feel. How good you’re taking me and how cute you look all sweaty and needy, trying to keep quiet so no one finds out you snuck a demon back home, all because you wanted to get your brains fucked out with everyone right outside the door.”

A sudden prickling slithers up the back of Y/N’s neck, her muscles tightening in heightened anticipation. “Someone’s watching us.”

Harry’s arm wraps around her waist, the hand holding the halo sliding over Y/N’s hip and maneuvering her out of sight of the prying eyes he can feel burning into his broad back, piercing right through the material of his leather jacket. He glimpses over his shoulder, catching a snapshot of the culprit peeping into their exchange: an elderly woman, partially hidden behind the black and orange tensile decorations, staring at them with disgust.

Harry mumbles a quick basic spell under his breath. “Dis.”

Push.

The aged woman spontaneously jars forward, stumbling out of sight down the aisle she’d been loitering.

Harry cranes his neck back towards his girlfriend, a happily satisfied smile staining his lips. “Took care of it.”

Y/N’s wide, astonished gaze leaves the empty space where the target had been, zoning in on her boyfriend with alarmed outrage. “You just shoved an old lady!”

His giddy grin immediately drops into a confused frown. “And?”

Harry didn’t think it was possible for her eyes to go wider, but she puts rest to his doubt.

“And?! She could be hurt!” She immediately slaps his hand off her hip, releasing their conjoined fingers and smacking her palm across his chest as a repercussion for his actions (though he barely feels it).

He rolls his eyes at her theatrics. “She’s fine! It was a light graze.”

“It was a satanic spell!”

“She was intruding!”

“Oh, and that warrants you pushing her down the aisle?”

There’s a halt in the argument, followed by Harry’s eyes darting across different points of Y/N’s face— her tinted lips, her creased brows, her slightly flaring nose, and her faintly glowing eyes. The look in them is intense and begrudging.

He hadn’t even realized his lips were parted in aroused surprise at her vehement outburst— she always looks so hot when she’s mad. He licks over them lightly, willing them closed and exhaling loudly through his nose. His eyebrows jolt upwards with salacious intent, the corners of his pursed mouth following suit. “Are y’gonna spank me for it, then?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it.” Harry pecks the tip of Y/N’s nose and steps sideways, purposefully leaving just enough space for Y/N to squeeze between his chest and the clothing rack.

A swift peek at the designated aisle confirms that the woman is indeed fine (just a little bewildered) and Y/N is finally able to move past it, though still grumbling condemnation.

She pulls at the thick clear straps of Harry’s fake wings thoughtfully. “We still haven’t found any costumes.”

“Speak for yourself. I think I’m gonna go as Captain Jack Sparrow over there.” He hooks his thumb towards where he’d hung the pirate costume while he tried on the angel props.

Y/N squeezes the cushioned bedazzled devil horns, an idea dawning. “What if we go as each other?”

Harry raises a single brow, intrigued. “Well, that’s an idea.”

“It’d be a cute couple’s costume!”

He removes the wings from his back. “I dunno. I quite like my pirate costume. I look great in black liner.”

Y/N pouts, though he doesn’t think she notices, which makes it all the cuter. “Pleaseee?”

He lightly tugs at the collar of Y/N’s striped t-shirt. “I could be persuaded...”

She huffs. “Why are you such a handful?”

He taps the pad of his index finger against the faint hollow at the center of her throat. “I’m more than a handful and you’re well aware of that.”

She forces herself to keep a tab on the electricity threatening to brim into her irises. “Please?”

“Say it again. Love the way your voice sounds when you’re begging.”

She narrows her eyes at him, irked (and slightly aroused, though she’d never admit it) at the way he’s being so crude. “Pretty please?”

The sensual touches at her neck halt, the atmosphere suspended for an elongated second. “Pretty please...?”

His tone suggests he’s waiting for her to utter something more, eyes waltzing with pompous appeal at the way she’s stroking his ego.

Y/N grinds her teeth, jaw muscle visibly ticking. When she speaks, her voice is low and timid. “Pretty please, Daddy?”

The amusement swimming in the amber specks around his pupils translate across the ends of his mouth. “Sounds like a plan. Cliché, but I’ll bite.”

She clears her throat to break the puncturing sexual tension. “We just have to figure out the outfits to wear with the accessories. It can’t be that hard, right?”

Harry smiles confidently, dozens of combinations of clothing already buzzing around his mind. “You leave that to me, sweetheart.”

He doesn’t disappoint. He brings the rest of their costumes home the next day after three grueling hours at the shopping mall, carrying two frosted plastic covers over his shoulders (as well as an exhausted yet triumphant expression) when he saunters into the living room.

Y/N falls in love with her fit before it’s even fully out of the bag.

It’s a two-part velvet design and it’s absolutely dazzling. The main statement piece of the garment is the actual pantsuit: flared cuffs that cut perfectly just below her ankles, the soft fabric a pigment mix between a bright red and deep maroon. As the eyes draw upward, the suit ombrés into a murky black; by the time one’s sight gets to the bando-style top, the color is solid. The accompanying second half of the outfit is a blazer, tinted the same shade of maroon and covered with carefully embroidered crystal clear gems, resulting in material that both absorbs and reflects any light that hits the jacket, giving it bewitching juxtaposition. The cuffs and grand folded collar are lined with elegant glittered lace— a small detail that makes a world of a difference.

The beauty of it draws attention, clutching it effortlessly and Harry knew it would match her ideally the moment he laid eyes on it at the store.

He even managed to work an aspect of his little skimpy dress fantasy into the mix: the red-bottom heels. They compliment the look down to the detail with the chic, dark glossy surface on top and the flashy red lining along the underside. The model of the pumps is sleek and tapered, made to give an air of sensual confidence to anyone who dons them.

He doesn’t regret a single cent of the thousands he’d spent— the way his girlfriend’s eyes are twinkling with enamored awe makes it more than worth it.

Y/N had been rendered speechless as she passes the pads of her fingers gingerly over the plush velvet, almost as if she’s scared it will disintegrate if it wrinkles. Her voice is a stunned murmur. “Jesus, Harry...”

“You like it?” He sets his own protective carrier down along the arm of the couch, the blurred plastic keeping its contents hidden.

She holds the top portion of the pantsuit up to her chest, trying to imagine how it’ll look with her hair and makeup done. “Like’ doesn’t even come close.”

Harry smiles shyly as he takes the spot beside her, chest fluttering at the notion of making her so happy, fingers rising up to mess with the hoop piercing hooked along his eyebrow— a bashful mannerism. “Good. Always love making your eyes glow like that. Metaphorically speaking.”

Y/N laughs lightly at his joke, face shimmering with a certain loving warmth that makes his insides stir.

Harry drops his hands into his lap, leaning a bit to bump her shoulder jestingly with his. “Where’s my thank you?”

Y/N returns his gesture, hugging his gift to her stomach gratefully. “Thank you. You spoil me rotten, honestly.”

He ducks his head down to press a lingering kiss to her temple, inhaling her scent of lavender and cherry blossoms and baby powder and another odor he can’t quite place but it reminds him of a time in his life long ago when he was happy and fulfilled and loved. “I’d do anything for you.”

“You better stop before my eyes start glowing non-metaphorically.”

Harry’s full-hearted chuckle chimes the air like a thousand bells. It dies down slowly, his forehead pressing against her cheekbone, the tip of his nose brushing across her skin in a caring manner. When he speaks, his voice is gentle and raw. “Can I have a kiss?”

Y/N bobs her head, craning her face towards him, their noses bumping. She flushes her forehead to his, gazing deeply into his irises as they twinkle with delicate admiration.

Contrary to the usual, there’s no lascivious teasing or suggestiveness in Harry’s behavior; just simple, subtle affection. And the fact that he’d asked permission makes it sweeter. It’s intimate moments like these that make her cherish giving love a chance.

She buttons her lips to Harry’s tenderly, feeling him sigh dreamily through his nose. It’s not a messy kiss, there’s no desperate sexual drive behind it. It’s homey and mellow, like a hug from someone long lost.

It lasts a solid ten seconds before Y/N draws back, dwindling the singular kiss into a dozen tiny pecks across Harry’s cheeks, nose, and eyelids until his face is puckering up at the feathery sensation, lashes fluttering open sleepily.

Y/N sponges her lips between her boyfriend’s brows with finality. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

She attentively eases the cover back over her expensive present, zipping it closed and making sure the metal bit doesn’t catch on the cloth. She lays is out across her lap, already glancing over Harry’s shoulder investigatively, trying to make out what he had bought for himself.

“So what’s yours look like?” Her hand stretches out towards the costume with the intent of undoing the zipper.

“Ah, ah, ah!” Harry’s fingers come town over the top of her own, smacking them away humorously.

Y/N’s head reels back quizzically, insulted.

He shrugs his brows ominously, one of his large, ring-clad hands streaming across the bag protectively. “It’s a surprise.”

“That’s not fair!” She exclaims adamantly, though the giggles escaping her are doing a horrible job at backing her claim. “You got to pick mine and I can’t even take a peek at yours?”

Harry defends his secret with another playful slap at her insistent hand as it attempts to reach below his arm. “You know how much I love edging.”

Y/N slumps her shoulders dramatically, the weight of the mystery already itching the back of her brain. She doesn’t know how she’ll be able to put up with it for the next couple of days. “Can I at least see the shoes?”

Harry shakes his head, an evilly delighted simper coiling onto his face. “Nope.”

“Unbelievable.” She snips, crossing her arms over her stomach.

“‘Good things come to those who wait’ and all that.”

He’s having way too much fun with this.

Y/N narrows her eyes at him challengingly. “I’ll have my way when you’re asleep.”

He belts out a laugh. “Over my undead body.”

With that, Harry springs up from the couch, jetting towards the stairs that head up to the top floor of the condo, the forbidden costume in tow.

“Hey!” Y/N vaults up to chase him, well aware of all the possible hiding places scattered upstairs. It’ll take her ages to find it; by the time she does, it would already be past the date.

Harry has a decent amount of time ahead of her, his lanky legs taking the steps two and even three at a time, easily leaving her in the dust. How he keeps from slipping on his jack o’lantern socks is beyond him.

Y/N scurries up the spiral staircase after him, both of their airy giggling bouncing off the intricate metal railings and dark hardwood panels.

Harry stumbles into their room and slams the door shut behind him with a simple spell, the lock magically flicking shut. He’s laughing so hard his stomach aches, whipping around on his heels to keep alert as he backs into the room, picking his brain for a proper enchantment. He mumbles the invisibility incantation out of breath and half-snickering, but gets it out nonetheless.

“Fallax flamma, ignis de potentia, et in abscondito, ego ignire te evanescit.”

Cloaking flame, fire of power and concealment, I ignite you to vanish.

A blinding red and blue flame engulfs the entirety of the plastic cover, extinguishing almost immediately, leaving behind no trace evidence of the object he had under his arm moments ago.

And without a second to spare, the door flies open, Y/N rushing in with a victory elating her features. “Gotcha—!”

Her head swivels from side to side, confusion furrowing her brows as she takes in the image of her boyfriend’s empty arms, alongside his smug, self-satisfied expression. “Where’d it go?!”

Harry creases his brows to mimic her own baffled appearance, mocking. “Where’d what go?”

She ignores the dig. “You can’t possibly have hid it that fast! Not unless you used…”

Realization floods her face. “Cheater!”

“It’s not cheating, it’s called using my resources.”

“Cheater!” Y/N reiterates, lunging forward and koalaing her arms and legs around Harry, sending him stilting back and crashing into the mattress, the duvet rising up in a puff of fluffy black cloth.

His back bounces three times against the bed yet she manages to stay latched on, her knees digging into his hips as her hands fumble to pin down his wrists.

He fights back, wriggling from side to side to try and shake her loose, kicking up his legs wildly in hopes of teetering her off. “This is wrongful punishment, I didn’t even get a fair trial!”

Y/N ducks down, running her soft lips over the spot where his neck meets his jaw, knowing full well it’s one of his most ticklish places. She whispers her words warningly. “Let me see it.”

Harry can’t help the high-pitched, half-suppressed laugh that escape him, jitters coursing through his bones, stemming from the area where her mouth rubs along his heated skin. He wills the bubbly shrieks to die down, teething at the ring that adorns his bottom lip, eyes alight with pure ecstatic energy. “No.”

Y/N shrugs off his refusal, her supernatural strength proving valuable as she manages to keep her boyfriend stretched to the sheets. “Fine, then. Guess I’ll just have to torture it out of you.”

Harry sticks his tongue out at her mockingly, the ruby gem piercing glinting in the faint, grey evening light streaming in freely through the large glass wall that overlooks the city skyline. “Guess you will.”

Her method backfires almost immediately.

Harry’s sneaky ways and matching inhuman strength accomplish to outmaneuver her. After a fair share of complaining grunts, palms slamming against cheeks, carefully coordinated pinches to side, and a somewhat harsh tug to her hair, she ends up splayed over the mattress beneath him, heaving shallowly as he traps her forearms against his chest, nimble fingers wrapped around her wrists.

Harry kinks his brows up boastingly. “How’s that, then? Taste of your own medicine.”

Y/N squirms excessively, but slipping free seems unlikely. “I could totally kick you in a really sensitive place right now, but I won’t.”

He calls her bluff, words sticky and warm against her chin. “It’s in your best interest not to considering you’ve taken a liking to bouncing on it.”

She yanks at her arms almost savagely, snapping her head sideways to avoid him taking a piss at her as her irises flare up a pale neon blue.

Harry ends up getting his way. The costume remains unseen until the night of the Halloween party, hidden in some tear in the universe where he knows she won’t be able to find it.

It remains in its magical alcove until Harry summons it out after his shower, hanging it on an unused towel hook on the marble wall.

He gives it a calculating once-over, chin propped on his loose fist, elbow supported by the wrist of the arm he has swung across his torso. He sways ever so slightly, the towel clinging to his hips dangling dangerously low on his structured pelvis. His wet curls caress the back of his neck, mopping over his small ears and itching his brows, resulting in Harry combing them out of his face with his fingers and sighing lightly.

He taps absentmindedly at the center of his plump lips, running the pad of his index digit along the ridges of his bottom one, feeling the smallest bit off since his piercing is lacking in its rightful spot. The things he does for the authenticity of the look.

The hand across his stomach clenches and unclenches thoughtfully as he chalks up the details of the full costume in his head, cracking each of his knuckles one at a time with his thumb as he dwells on his ideas. He can never seem to stay still when he’s plotting.

He glances down at his nails, smiling fondly at the white lacquer Y/N had painted on them to go with his theme. He knows the suspense has been killing her and it amuses him to no end.

Harry rummages through the bathroom cabinets, retrieving his hair drier along with his favorite mousse. Y/N’s makeup bag also makes it onto the counter, as well as his Dove Fresh Cucumber deodorant, cologne, and a pair of dangley pearl earrings he’d acquired as a gift centuries ago from a French noblewoman more than willing to give him what he wanted (in more than one sense).

He knows exactly what his costume is going to look like now and he doesn’t waste a second in beginning preparations.

On the opposite side of the door, Y/N thinks quite the contrary— he’s taking forever to get ready, the minutes wasting away just like her patience.

The plan had gone as intended, to an extent. They’d handed out candy to all the children that had come and she’d even weaned Harry into buying a cute jack o’ lantern bowl to set the mood. She enjoyed seeing all of the creative costumes the kids had conjured up; she thinks her favorite was probably the ten year old girl dressed like Thanos from the Avengers movies. Y/N’s favorite part had been the gauntlet, which had carried different colored Jolly Ranchers in place of the Infinity Stones. Quite clever, if you asked her.

There was an incident with a twelve year old who gave them attitude for their choice in the candy they gave out, but Harry handled it before Y/N could even react. He’d crouched down to her level, mumbled something unintelligible, and then from what Y/N could see in the split second that it occurred, flashed her his demon face. The preteen fled without a single word.

He had pushed himself back up with his palms to his knees, brushing past Y/N into the apartment, grumbling under his breath. “Entitled miscreants.”

No more kids ventured towards their door after that.

She had been the first to get ready, well aware of how long Harry tended to take when preparing himself to go out.

He casually suggested that it would go by faster if they showered together, not to mention it’d “help the environment and what not,” though she knew his intentions would likely set them on a detour. He was playfully insistent, however, and she ended up having to shove him out of the bathroom with his underwear already half off.

After she had cleaned up and blow dried her hair accordingly, she left the bathroom to him, deciding to finish getting ready in the bedroom to avoid being late (and also because she knew he wasn’t going to let her see him putting on the costume).

“I know we have an eternity to live but try not to fill it all up with your showertime.” She’d quipped as she drifted past him on her way out of the foggy, humid washroom.

A sudden tug at her towel had sent her hands fumbling, just barely managing to keep her chest covered. Harry’s snickering had bounced off the shell of her ears. “I make no promises.”

Now Y/N sat on the large bed, distractedly rocking her heels back and forth against the thick-carpeted ground, running her fingers over the silky velvet fabric of her flared pantsuit as it bunches around her thighs.

She isn’t one to brag or boast because she had been wired to be humble, but she doesn’t think she’s ever looked better. The suit fit her perfectly, all of the seams and cinches falling exactly where they should. The jacket was loose enough to be comfortable but snug enough that it hugged her shoulders properly, not to mention the inside was made of velvet, as well. The wide-legged portion of the fit stopped just below her ankles, giving away to the shiny, midnight-tinted glassy shoes. She’d practiced her walk for about ten minutes.

Her hair is parted to the side, the front section pinned back from her face to showcase the makeup she’d applied. She’d tightlined her eyes with black kohl eyeliner and a red lip pencil she’d had to make due with (which she’d ducked into the bathroom to get, disappointed when she didn’t see the familiar plastic covering hanging anywhere along the walls) and applied the bright red lipstain Harry had gotten for her.

Around her neck lays a delicate gold chain, Harry’s large ruby ring glittering at its center. He always loved seeing something of his on her and he always joked about how this specific act was a vintage antic that dated back to the nineteen twenties; girlfriends would wear their boyfriend’s rings around their necks as a symbol of love. The first time he’d mentioned it, she had fallen head over wings for the idea— fallen for its simple yet deep meaning. And it just confirmed to her that under the layers of the hard exterior he donned, Harry was a hopeless romantic at heart (despite the fact that his no longer beat).

Y/N thumbs over the big stone encapsulated in the aged gold band, sighing restlessly through her nose as the pattering of the water echoes through the walls of the bedroom. He’s probably taking this long on purpose and she has half a mind to stalk in there and drag him out by his wet curls, but she refrains. His surprise better be worth it.

The water spout creaks to a stop, the only sound resonating in the bathroom being Harry’s faint humming to Thriller as the door to the shower cracks open loudly. Fucking finally.

Y/N scampers onto her feet, nearly breaking an ankle as she forgets her choice in shoes. She heads towards the washroom door with an attentive stride, rapping her knuckles on the wooden door lightly, voice tinged with irritation. “Are you done?”

Harry chimes back, tone full of airy, cocky humor. “Not quite. Still balls-naked, but I suppose I could go like that, if you want me to. Don’t mind it.”

“Just get dressed already, would you? You’re taking forever.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of being ‘fashionably late?’”

Y/N growls in exasperation, crossing her arms and pacing back and forth in front of their bed, trying to reign in her nerves. Going to a party where she barely knows anyone is bad enough, but Harry isn’t easing her woes any by being a little shit.

On the other side of the wooden door, Harry is finger-combing mousse through his hair as he harmonizes to Monster Mash, twirling strands here and there around his index finger to accentuate the ringlets just the way he likes. He flips his head over, mussing up the roots to ensure the soft volume and fullness he’s so known for. He always takes his hair seriously— a residual mannerism from when he had it shoulder-length for almost a decade.

Blow drying doesn’t take long and he’s buttoning up his top before he knows it, leaving the last three buttons undone to expose his swallow tattoos and upside down cross necklace, the antennas of his butterfly inking peeking out from the edge of the open shirt, along with the curved tips of its wings.

He fishes out a couple of products from Y/N’s cosmetics pouch as he wiggles his toes into his new shoes, zipping them up with finality and leaning in closer to the mirror for the makeup application.

Once he’s finished and everything has been returned to its rightful spot, he spritzes a few pumps of his Tom Ford cologne across his flexing necking and down his jaw, capping it and giving himself a thoughtful once-over in the mirror. He’s proud of what he’d achieved.

He murmurs a spell, retrieving the halo and wings from the magical storage facility he’d placed them in, fitting them onto his costume and humming in approval.

The door to the bathroom swings open, startling Y/N enough to trip up her angry loitering.

Harry steps through the frame of the door, completely decked out in his attire for her to witness in its fully glory. “Let the switching hour begin.”

Y/N can’t stop her jaw from dropping in astonishment.

Harry looks incredible— breath-takingly ethereal, to say the least. She scans the look from bottom to top, taking in every detail slowly, feeling almost as if time had slowed down around her.

It starts with the footwear. They’re a pair of glossy, bright white heeled boots, silver metal tips adorning the front of the shoes. She’s never seen anything like it and knowing how dramatic Harry can be, she wouldn’t be surprised if they’re custom.

The boots disappear under the flared cuffs of the off-white, wide-legged pants he is sporting, the fabric ironed and crisp, complimenting his height. They’re high-waisted, ending just above Harry’s navel, the front embellished with two parallel rows of gold buttons, each engraved with a capital, Roman-font letter G that glints under the soft, buttery low light of a single lamp.

His top is probably the statement piece of the layout. It’s a baby blue long-sleeved button-up blouse with a frilled collar and cuffs, the buttons decently-sized opal crystals that shimmer holographically with every movement. The fabric of the cloth presents a similar effect, the material frosty and see-through with reflective, multi-colored sparkling fibers sewn in. The shirt is tucked into the high waist of Harry’s pants, fitting loose and flouncy around his torso, the twinkling faintness of the thread juxtaposing the darkness of his tattoos in an unexpected yet flattering manner. It hugs his shoulders and back tightly, muscles rippling the cloth in a way similar to how a stone wrinkles the surface of a still lake.

The layers of the collar ornament Harry’s sharp jaw and grace the intricate pearl earring dangling from his right ear. She takes notice of the inversed cross necklace resting at the center of the valley that is his chest, glinting with a type of poetic irony. His fingers are garnished with his usual plethora of rings, his two blocky initials hugging his second middle finger and pinky amidst an array of gems and carvings.

Though the dazzling clothes and expensive jewelry are eye-catching, Y/N can confidently say Harry’s makeup is the real caviar of the entire look.

White liner runs across his waterline and over the crevices of his top lashes, opening up his eyes and making the olive tone of his irises pop more than usual. Glitter has been strewn across the curve of his cheekbones and faded up onto his temples, the holographic flecks of pastel blue, baby pink, and snow white glued down securely and glimmering under the flickering light-up halo. The lustery specks have also been combed into his fluffy, soft curls with a dash of gel, twinkling like a billion little stars. Evenly-spaced rhinestones decorate along the curve of Harry’s thick eyebrows— a final touch of grandeur that pairs adequately with the rest of the accessories.

Harry lifts the palms of his hands upward expectantly, giving a slow twirl and showing off the glitzy wings (which mold into the look effortlessly). “So, what d’you think?”

Y/N puts all of the pieces of the costume together in her brain, attempting to process it all at once and being rendered utterly speechless. The broadness of his body— the thickness of his chest, how his biceps and back muscles strain the dainty material of the top, his towering height with the heels, his sharp, defined features— contrast the delicateness of the fit, but it somehow it works. It somehow makes heat pool at the pit of her stomach and makes her ears crackle with spurts of electricity.

All she manages to croak out is a quiet, tender, “You look pretty.”

This sends Harry into a round of light-hearted giggling, his smile more blinding than any of the flashy props he carries. He glances down, zoning in on the metal tips of his boots to avoid her noticing the blush invading his cheeks. He pushes it down, scolding himself for being so mushy.

He clears his throat lightly, giving a quick glimpse over her own costume. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

Y/N instinctively looks down at her outfit, grabbing the excess fabric around her thighs and curtsying jokingly. “Thanks, my boyfriend picked it out.”

Harry tilts his head to the side, his two front teeth digging into his bottom lip, eyebrows jolting knowingly. “He has great taste.”

Y/N steps closer to her boyfriend, draping her arms over his strong shoulders, the corners of her lips twitching. “Yeah, but he takes centuries to get ready. That’s kindof a trade-off.”

Harry’s hands coast onto his girlfriend’s hips, squeezing jestingly as he draws her body flushed against his, the golden buttons of his pants cold against the ombréd cloth of her pantsuit. “He sounds like an ass.”

She wobbles her head from side to side as if mulling over his comment, eventually nodding in agreement. “He is.”

His jaw falls open into a shocked smirk, raising his eyebrows in silent objection. “Is that so? Why do you stay with him, then?”

Y/N’s palms glide down the taut muscles of Harry’s arms, the pads of her fingers pressing into his skin suggestively. “He’s got a few redeeming qualities.”

Harry’s heavy lashes dust over the tops of his cheeks, catching a few stray particles of glitter that shimmer alluringly in the dim lighting. His forearms suddenly tighten harder around her waist, pulling her so close she can feel his groin pressing into her thigh. His tone is slathered with arrogant self-assurance, the ghosts of the words dancing across her stinging lips and her eyes nearly roll back as whiffs of his intoxicatingly delicious scent numbs her sinuses.

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

Y/N has a hard time swallowing, feeling her voice lodge in her throat as he begins brushing his lips up and down her jaw. “I’ll keep that to myself.”

Harry chuckles deeply and she can feel the vibrations down to her bones. “S’okay, I’ve got an idea of what you meant.”

“You sound awfully confident.”

“I speak from experience.”

Y/N moves her face back a tad, noticing that her fingers had somehow ended up tangled in the chain of his necklace, tugging at it so hard it's bruising Harry’s throat. He doesn’t mind it— he liked the burn.

He ducks down further, wisping his mouth over her’s, groaning lowly in the back of his throat when he sees her lips are stained with the tempting red color he’d picked out. “Your mouth looks so pretty like that. Bet it’d look even better skimming down my chest and over my thighs.”

His hold has her leaning back so far she’s now balancing on the tips of her toes, her chest heaving slightly against his. “Bet it would.”

Harry reaches one hand up, cupping her jaw with his fingers, his thumb rubbing slowly over her bottom lip, watching the color transfer faintly. “Wouldn’t mind some of the glitter on my face ending up across your inner thighs, either.”

A small whine strains the back of Y/N’s throat at the image of Harry’s head ducking between her legs over and over, the white liner smudging under his eyes due to sweat while her damp skin rubs the glitter off his cheekbones, his ringed fingers clamping over her plush thighs as the light from the moon bounces off the glossy surface of the white nail polish.

Harry presses a warm, sloppy kiss to the center of her jugular, her knees quaking as heat surges through her veins. “Some of it on your fingers, too, from pulling at my hair.”

He slowly dips his thumb past her lips, it’s weight heavy on her tongue. She acts on impulse, closing her mouth around it and sucking drunkenly.

Harry’s teeth skim along the side of her neck, a breathy purr of, “That’s my good girl” simmering her nerves.

Her words are muffled and weak, but she manages to get them out into the open. “We’re gonna be late.”

It’s not that Y/N doesn’t want to because, fuck, she wants to, but she knows that Harry would leave her a disoriented mess for the rest of the night, and it’d be pretty obvious. The last thing she wants is his friends teasing her about it— the mortification would be eternal.

He sighs grandly against her throat— which nearly sends her crumpling to the floor— and reluctantly pulls away.

Harry knocks his forehead against her’s, his sparkly lashes dusting her eyelids as they barely conceal the puncturing sexual hunger glinting in the amber flecks around his pupils. “You’re lucky the pantsuit is a one-piece or I’d have you riding my face right about now.”

With that, he refixes her crooked demon horns atop her head, retrieving the cape, clip-on tail, and pitchfork from where she’d placed them on the bed. He tangles their fingers together and yanks a very hazy, unbalanced Y/N towards the door.

She stumbles after him in her heels, gaining enough footing to avoid rolling as they descended down the stairs, the sounds from both of their shoes pounding hard inside her temples. Harry hands her the rest of her costume, grabbing his favorite navy blue trench coat from it’s hook next to the entryway and shrugging it on, carefully working his hands through the sleeves to keep the frill detailing from bunching up. He pats down his pockets to make sure he has his keys, fishing them out with his index finger as he unlocks the front door.

He steps off to the side for Y/N to go through first, kissing her cheek chastely as she brushes past him with a tiny, soft, “Thank you.”

“Of course, darling.” Harry follows her lead, turning back to lock the door to their apartment, checking the knob the same way he’s done his entire life.

Y/N loops her arm around his as they walk towards his car, the chilly air rustling her velvet jacket and drying the light sheen of sweat that had accumulated across her hairline. The moon hangs calmly amongst the stars, illuminating the high points of Harry’s face in a very fitting heavenly manner, the soft sounds of chirping insects and hooting owls setting a comfortably spooky tone for the rest of the night. A few straggling trick-or-treaters are turning in for the night, exchanging happy halloween’s and heading towards their complexes.

The beeping of the car rings across the still air along with the quick flash of the headlights. Harry opens the door for Y/N, just as he’s always done, helping her get settled into the passenger’s seat. He then leans down a tad through the frame of the door, fingers tapping at the hood of the car, eyes half-lidded in a sly simper.

“Just thought I’d tell you in advance, you might wanna get the situation between your thighs settled before we get to the party. I’d be able to smell how wet you are from a mile away.”

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fascinatedscrawls · 4 years ago

Text

It’s Not about Death, but Life

Getting into the event was child's play. This one was outside of her normal area these days, but they were all basically the same. High society events were excuses the upper class used to show off their wealth and to show anything off you also needed people to show off to.

A press pass got her through the doors without even a pat down despite the baggie hoodie she wore.

Sloppy.

Byleth carefully didn't roll her eyes at the bargain bin security team. Instead, she made a point of looking reluctantly impressed by all the glitz and glam on display around her. In a hoodie and a knee-length skirt not even her strappy black heels could help her blend in with the guests. Hunching her shoulders in an visible act of self-consciousness, Byleth adjusted the hood of her jacket to cover her messy bun before moving forward into the fray.

Notepad in hand, Byleth slowly worked through the crowd making notes on current fashions, who was speaking to who, and who was very pointedly not talking to who. She reached the other end of the excessively opulent entry hall having filled out a sheet and a half of barely legible scribbles before she found an empty bathroom to clean up in.

Once the door was locked behind her, Byleth pulled the elastic from her messy bun and shook her head to let her pale seafoam hair fall back down over her shoulders. She deftly tucked the notepad and press pass into her jacket pocket along with her hair tie before reaching for the hem of her jacket. It pulled off easily over her head, though it mussed her hair a bit more in the process. She made sure the sleeves weren't inside out and set it neatly on the marble countertop next to the sink.

Lightly biting the inside of her lower lip, Byleth hiked up one side of her black dress so she could reach loose knot she'd made under the fabric earlier that evening. There it was. She undid the knot one handed with the ease of long practice. Straightening, she tugged lightly at the sides of her dress and she did a little shimmy, allowing the bottom half of the ankle length skirt to fall from where she'd hidden it before arriving. The dress was a solid black and the slits on either side of the dress went nearly to her knee. A classic look that wouldn't draw too many eyes.

Dress sorted, Byleth reached for her hoodie and quickly adjusted her makeup to suit the new look. Once that was done, she replaced the tools and pulled out a pair of thin black gloves. Biting her lips and inspecting her reflection, she gave her top one last adjustment to make sure the strap was secure around her neck before draping the jacket over an arm and walking back out into the party like a whole different person.

Passing the jacket to the nearest server was easy, a worried comment about finding it in the bathrooms and it was being taken to the lost and found for easy retrieval later.

The mansion belonged to the gala's host this year - another obvious display of wealth to their constituents and the public alike. It worked both for and against Byleth by providing a veritable banquet of nooks and crannies to hide in. For now it meant a lot of meaningless small-talk as she drifted through the rooms, 'oh'ing and 'ah'ing at the abundance of expensive antiquities the host and their family had purchased over the years as she searched for her target.

None of the other guests Byleth ran into knew her, which was a blessing. The only people that would be able to identify her on sight that lived in this particular region were ones she'd rather avoid.

Thankfully, she wasn't here for the host or his family. As the ones in the brightest spotlight, it would have made her night difficult indeed.

Instead, she was here for one of their close friends, a man who had made more than a few enemies on his own climb to the top. At least one of those took exception to the social climber's preferred method of ruining others’ reputations - usually by setting them up to take the fall for his dirtier schemes - and reached out to Byleth's agency after two years fighting to clear their name both in and out of court.

She found him on the third floor in one of the guest rooms. It looked like the family lent a few of them out to their closest friends so that they wouldn't need to worry about travelling on the day of the party. He was straightening his tie in front of a floor length mirror when she spotted him.

It was always so nice when her targets isolated themselves.

"Oh! I'm terribly sorry." Byleth tipped into the room before catching herself on the door, standing unsteadily in her heels. "I'm afraid I've gotten quite turned around. You wouldn't happen to know where the closest bathroom is, would you?"

She blinked at the man as he looked her up and down, carefully showing no reaction when his eyes lingered in a few telling areas.

"Of course." His smile made her skin crawl and Byleth ruthlessly suppressed a shiver as he made his way over to her. "You can use mine. Right this way, sweetheart."

He guided her in, taking her gloved hand and pulling her away from the bedroom door before shutting it behind them. She giggled like the happy, slightly tipsy debutante she was pretending to be as he led her right into the bathroom, stumbling a little as they went. When he turned to close that door as well, she calmly slipped the garrote she just palmed from her thigh holster around his neck and pulled.

Byleth's face was blank as the man's struggles grew weaker. Strangulation wasn't her usual style, but she had to admit that it was less messy than a knife. Arterial spray was just so hard to anticipate.

Besides, her knife was a little too distinctive to use on jobs these days.

When she was sure that her target wouldn't be getting back up ever again, she maneuvered the body into the shower and turned it on to lukewarm. That done, Byleth left the bathroom, engaging the lock before shutting it behind her. Exiting the bedroom in the same manner, she made her way back down the hall to one of the rooms she already cleared in her search. Double checking that it was still empty, she quietly made use of the fireplace.

Her cotton gloves didn't burn that fast, but it didn't take more than ten minutes for them to be reduced to ash in the large wood-burning fireplace. As they burned, she wondered why a family with this much money wouldn't put in gas fireplaces for their guest rooms. Maybe they were worried that someone would forget to turn it off?

Once the gloves were nothing more than dust, Byleth began to make her way back down to the lower floor. Her contract was complete, there was no reason to stay any longer and she was happy to go. She'd hoped to never return to these flashy shindigs, but the rich were the most likely to contract a hitwoman and as they often targeted one of their own she supposed that was a pipe dream.

She made it all the way to the ground floor, moving slower as the crowds thickened, before she saw him.

The love of her life.

Claude von Riegan.

Her heart jumped for her throat and her stomach fell to her shoes.

He looked sharp in his three piece suit, his striking features standing out even in the sea of beautifully dressed people. It was hard to tell what drew the eye more, his handsome face, the confident baring, or his completely black clothing in a flock of glittering butterflies.

Byleth barely noticed any of that. She was too caught up in comparing him to the Claude of her memories.

His hair was longer and was looked better behaved because of it. A trimmed bit of scruff enhanced his jawline, reminding her of how she used to run her thumb along it when they kissed. Those last few inches put him a head taller than her and she wondered if she would just tuck in under his chin now.

Green eyes found hers and Byleth suddenly remembered that he wasn't the only shadow in this field of flowers.

For a moment, it was like the crowd around them didn't exist. His lips parted, jaw dropping ever so slightly as his eyes widened. Claude's skin paled under his warm tan.

It was like he was seeing a ghost.

Byleth snapped her own mouth shut at the reminder, teeth grinding a little as she swallowed.

Because he was.

Turning sharply, Byleth slipped through the crowds with a little more speed, ducking behind some of the taller guests as she did. Her roundabout plans of going to 'find' her jacket were scrapped. If he was here, there was no telling who else-

"Darling!"

Wrist caught, Byleth swung around to follow the unexpected tug. Her intentional stumble to hide the reach for her thigh holster was anticipated, her free hand caught in a familiar grasp.

Her breath caught in her lungs.

The black silk tie contrasted nicely with the fitted black vest.

"There you are!"

This close, it was clear that the shirt underneath them was actually a dark charcoal instead of black like she first assumed.

"I didn't know you'd be here, my dearest."

She swallowed and tried to force her heart to behave, to slow down, to move out of the way so she could breathe again.

"You should have told me."

Byleth forced herself to look up and meet those green eyes once again.

"Should I have?" Her tone didn't show any of her struggles thankfully, it was just as light as she needed it to be. In high society parties like this, every attendee was always listening intently for any drama they could find. "I thought you wanted me to stay home like mother."

Her very dead mother, at home in her grave.

"Never." Claude's voice was a little too vehement for the crowd. Noticing that, he released her wrist in favor curling an arm around her waist. Only when he was sure she wasn't going to brush him off did he let go of her other hand and begin guiding them out of the larger hall. "Who would even dream of telling you a thing like that?"

His face was calm, his voice now relaxed and almost joking. Claude was always a better actor than she was. However, the fingers at her waist were flexing hard enough that her dress was sure to wrinkle. Even if the others couldn't see it under her elbow, she sure could feel it.

It was just as steadying as she remembered.

She stealed herself against the nostalgia and the part of her brain that was screaming that she should run and never look back, that she should hug him and never let go, that coming to this party was a mistake, was a miracle.

Was fate.

"Oh, you know how grandmother is." Even as old as she was, the woman was still running the Garreg Mach Agency so far as Byleth was aware. "I thought for sure that she'd convinced everyone that she knew best."

"You know I never liked other people thinking for me, why would this be any different?" Claude sounded playfully put out. A glance at his face let her see the tightness around his eyes as he guided them into another hallway, ironically in the same direction as her 'lost' jacket. "If you'd told me I could have swept in and carried you away on my white horse."

His grand statement made another woman further down the hall chuckle and no one looked twice when Byleth chuckled and pulled an unresisting Claude into a side room by his lapels.

"You would have, would you?" She turned him so she could scan the room and then kick the door shut behind them before pressing him up against a wall. One arm slanted across his chest to hold him in place while the other pulled the gun from the shoulder holster Claude always hid under his suit jackets to point it at the underside of his chin. "Or would you have been the one she convinced to kill me instead?"

"Impossible." He replied instantly. "Nothing she could say would ever convince me of that."

Slowly, his unpinned hand came up. Byleth's eyes never wavered from his, but she didn't move to stop him as he brushed a stray lock of hair from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. Warm fingers traced down her jawline and it was only as they lifted away that Byleth noticed that her blank expression had melted away in the process.

Taking a deep breath through her nose, she firmed her expression into a glare and clicked the safety off. She hoped that if he really did try to kill her here she could at least attempt to try and return the favor.

She cocked the gun and he didn't even flinch.

He was the best spy she knew. That didn't mean anything.

Claude's eyes were soft as he gazed steadily at her.

The memory of those green eyes looking at her with love and adoration merged with reality. Her heart lurched. She felt ill even imagining the possibility of him dying.

Damn it.

She pulled back and de-cocked the gun, letting that hand fall to her side.

"Say I believe you," Byleth said as though it wasn't obvious that she did. "What are you going to tell her about this?"

There was no way he was here for any other reason than information gathering. Claude despised this sort of gathering five years ago and she couldn't imagine that changing.

"Nothing." Smug in the face of her disbelief, Claude grinned. Relaxing under the arm still pinning him, he shrugged. "I left shortly after you did and headed back home, though I somehow did it on better terms."

Left Garreg Mach? To go home? Wait.

"Did everyone in the Alliance leave?" That was a lot of people. Byleth couldn't imagine Rhea letting that many competent people go, it would be too much of a threat.

"Not everyone and those of us who made it out needed to go further afield than you're probably thinking." Claude admitted. He tilted his head and Byleth could almost see him scratching the back of it. He may have suppressed the habit over the years, but the head tilt was exactly the same.

Light glimmered, the movement allowing one of his earrings to catch the light perfectly.

Byleth's eyes widened, the style of it reminding her of some rumors she heard when she was laying low in those first few years away from Garreg Mach.

"Almyra?"

Claude went tense under her arm for a moment before sighing.

"Never could get one past you, could I?" His rueful smile faded as she waited for an answer. "Yeah, Almyra. I've got family there, you know?"

No. She hadn't known. She suspected, but even as a rookie Claude played things close to the chest. Byleth couldn't fault him for it, they all did the same thing. They had to or they died.

Honest people didn't live long in their line of work.

Subterfuge wasn't a guarantee of safety either.

"Why then?" Why not before when he'd been complaining about the jobs they kept assigning him? When his input on larger jobs was ignored or when the younger members got pushed hard enough that he started picking up some of their work without telling them?

He looked confused at the question.

"Why would I stay if you weren't there?"

Byleth's heart wasn't content with being ignored any longer. It swooped and sped, raced and stopped, jumped and sunk. Her eyes felt wide on her face, but she was too busy trying to breathe to control her expression.

"As soon as I could manage it, I collected everyone who wanted to leave and I gave Rhea a choice." Claude was kind enough to ignore her dumbfounded reaction as he filled her in on what she missed while she was in hiding. "Let us leave or Almyra will bring it's forces to her doorstep. With all of the infighting she was already dealing with from Edelgard's end, it really wasn't a choice at all."

"You're here on their orders then?" At his slow nod, she continued, "Who else is here? Anyone that will tell her?"

Byleth survived the last assassination attempt by pure luck, she didn't think she could do it again.

"Shamir's here with me, but she left Garreg Mach with us. She never did believe what Rhea said about you."

"Shamir?" Finally stepping back, Byleth couldn't help but wonder if they often went to things like this together as she and Claude used to. If she was projecting her own wants onto what he said, imagining the feelings she hoped were returned when in reality he moved on without her.

Wait.

"What did Rhea say about me?"

"She said that your death was necessary, that you betrayed us and everything we stood for, yada yada yada." Making a dismissive gesture, Claude's face clearly showed what he thought of that and it was nothing good. "Trying to justify it all. I don't think even Seteth believed her. He didn't show up to meetings for weeks after."

"He found me." Byleth supplied, holding the gun out to its owner. "They threw me in the river thinking I would die, but I was found the next day and brought to a hospital. He found me there and found a place for me to recover."

Clipping the gun back into place, Claude whistled lowly.

"Seteth? I never would have suspected." He watched her as she turned towards the racks and boxes of lost items on the other side of the room. It was a good thing no one needed in the room earlier in their discussion. Weapons at a gala were always hard to explain away. "Why are you asking me about what happened then? Verifying your sources?"

The teasing tone had her throwing him an exasperated look over her shoulder before digging through the rows for her jacket once more.

"He set up a cash flow and then cut all ties to make sure Rhea couldn't trace him to me."

"So no illicit love affairs?"

Byleth stopped and set the jackets in her hands back on their racks.

Was that... jealousy?

Half-turning towards him Byleth gave him a look.

"None." If he was going to go there, she was allowed to ask as well. Right? "And you?"

"Love affairs? Me?" Claude gestured to his clothes. "Can't you see I'm in mourning?"

Mourning?

"For the whole five years?" He couldn't possibly still be mourning her. Please tell her he wasn't.

"For the rest of my life." He looked serious.

Shaking her head in disbelief, Byleth turned back to the clothing and tried to blink away the tears that sprung to her eyes at his sentimentality.

"You can't just say things like that. What if I actually died? You shouldn't be tied to a dead woman, you should be happ-" He was suddenly beside her at the coat rack. She cut off in surprise when Claude reached out and turned her towards him once more.

"Without you I will never be happy. Alive, sure. Content, if I'm lucky. Happy?" Leaning in, his green eyes searched hers for something. "Never without you."

Clothes dropped from Byleth's hands once again as she reached out, fingertips brushing along his cheekbone before following the line of his jaw like she did so many times before. She felt him shiver under her touch. Eyes trailing to his lips, she then looked up at those green eyes and thought she knew what he was looking for just a moment ago.

Moving her hand to his shoulder for balance, she leaned in.

Claude met her halfway.

They kissed.

They kissed and it was everything she remembered and more.

It felt like they'd never stopped.

Like that five year gap was nothing.

Like it was a lifetime.

Her free hand wound itself into his hair, pulling him down and finding it just as soft as before even as it tangled around her fingers.

His hand slipped down her shoulder to her back, following her spine until it found the old scar hidden just below the open back of her dress that had never felt his touch until now.

It felt like she was finally home.

"Ah! Um, I, er, need to get to the rack- I mean, the coat stand?"

Byleth pulled back, turning her head away from the door. Her fingers slipped from Claude's hair as he chuckled sheepishly at the man bringing in some more lost items.

"Looks like we got a little distracted while trying to find her jacket." Claude caught her eye and, with her back turned to the man in the doorway, she covertly mimed straightening a hood before ending in a symbol they used to use. "Do you think a hoodie would have been hung up or folded?"

"All jackets are hung, sir. I believe the softer jackets are to the left." The voice was unfamiliar, definitely not the one she'd handed the jacket to in the first place then. Good.

With that direction and the additional light from the hall, Byleth quickly located the jacket. Claude wrapped up the small-talk with his usual finesse and they were on their way.

The jacket was deftly folded in on itself with the strings tied together and worn with confidence as a particularly shapeless shoulder bag. While she was dealing with that, Claude messaged someone on his phone one handed. The other was still holding her close as they headed for the entrance.

"Shamir's going to meet us out front with the car, if that works for you?"

"It will for now." Byleth agreed with a small smile.

"For now?" Raising a brow at her growing smile, Claude turned and looked at her with playful suspicion as they pushed through the crowd.

With both of them controlling their reactions so as to not cause a scene, it was probably better to tell him now rather than later.

"There's someone I'd like you to meet and it will require us going to them in the morning." She blinked up at him with a perfectly straight face before turning back to the crowds in front of them. Byleth watched him closely in her peripheral vision as she continued casually, "You could say I'm a lot more like my father than anyone expected."

They did attract a little attention on their way out when Claude bit his tongue so hard trying to stifle his response that it bled.

#fe3h #aonorunic #oneshot #claudeleth #inspired by that one pic by #alzzzimi #on twitter #you know the one #Hitman AU #murder tw

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cutesuki--bakugou · 5 years ago

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What I Needed

@bnha-christmas2019 | Day 27: Company Party, “I thought you said you weren’t going to come>” | Bakugou x Fem!Reader | Explicit | Cursing, Sex, Oral Sex, Alcohol Consumption, Soft Baku, Comfort, Confessions

Words: 7228 Genre: Romance / Angst / Humor

Please blacklist the tag cutesuki-lemons if you do not want to see this content from my blog. I will no longer be tagging with specific keywords for this type of content.Thank you~

Due to the nature of this post, the characters are 18+

Having his own hero agency was everything Bakugou had ever wanted. He had power, fame, popularity, influence and the high social status that came with being one of the top heroes in the county, just like he had always dreamed. In his late twenties, his life was exactly how he had wanted it, but there were some… responsibilities that he, in all honesty, despised. Fame came with the need to socialize, to have a decent relationship with not only his fans, but the people he worked with. Sure, this wasn’t the first time he had to throw a company party, nor was it the biggest he had ever done, but that didn’t make it any less irritating.

A party to celebrate the holiday and new year weren’t anything to bat an eye at, especially not when it was open to any hero from any agency that wanted to participate. For less successful heroes or those still growing their reputation, who wouldn’t jump on the chance to party with the greatest heroes in the country? It wasn’t just Bakugou mingling around in the giant ballroom in the basement floor of his agency. Midoriya Izuku was here somewhere, as was Todoroki Shoto and others whom had grown the ranks with Bakugou from high school. There were even some older heroes present, old mentors and teaches. Friends and rivals alike were invited.

And that included you.

What were you to Bakugou, really? Were you a friend? A rival? Competition? His crush? All the above, if he were honest with himself, but calling you his ‘crush’ made him feel like a child. His feelings for you being just a ‘crush’ were a huge understatement. No, he had more than just a crush. In truth, he was head over heels for you, even surprising himself with how deeply he felt.

It had been like this since high school. He hated you at first, as he did everyone, but there was something about you that called to him. Did he ever act on it? Of course not. All his focus was on school, on training, internships and pushing himself to the highest degree he could manage. He had no time for girls, even if you were nearly irresistible. It didn’t help that it had been obvious you were into him, too. Still, all your advances were ignored, until a barrier had grown between you and nothing was achieved outside of a mildly awkward friendship.

It changed after you both graduated. For nearly two years, neither of you paid any attention to each other, until you ended up interning in the same agency. As adults, the spark was unmistakable. But Bakugou still couldn’t find it within himself to commit to a relationship, not when he was still working so hard for his goals.

That didn’t mean that he couldn’t resist you, however. Whatever relationship the two of you had was a physical one and nothing more. Fucking your brains out in the men’s locker room of the agency became almost a weekly occurrence, with many nights spent at each other’s apartments. Though, you could both admit, silently to yourselves, that there was something else there. The late nights watching stupid movies, stuffing yourselves with pizza and other shitty food, laughing and telling stories was proof enough. It was something Bakugou never wanted to lose.

Until you both became independent heroes. Bakugou left you in the dust at first, refusing to show you even an ounce of mercy when it came to bringing in villains or numbers of rescues. Being in the same region didn’t exactly help that, as his goals to be at the top wouldn’t be derailed, not even by a woman he adored. At one point, he was positive that you hated him. Your tenacity and perseverance pushed through in the end, and you climbed the ranks just as he had. The entire world saw you as rivals, and so Bakugou figured that is what you should both stay. Rivals with a past and nothing else.

Years pass with only business talk between you both, but lately, Bakugou could have sworn that spark was beginning to return. The way you looked at him and the sweet flow of your voice reminded him so much of your time together that he couldn’t resist falling for you all over again. All this time, no other woman he had slept with could compare to you, and it only grew worse the more you began to interact.

Bakugou knew that he may have everything he ever wanted in a career. But in his personal life, there was something missing. A partner, someone to spend his life with and have a family. Out of all the women he had met in his life, who had tried to woo him and gain his affection, not a single one had come as close to the level of adoration he felt for you. Even still, there was the itch in the back of his mind that he had already burned that bridge long ago. How could you possibly still care or want him after all this time and all the grief he put you through?

It was a shock to see you suddenly in the crowd of people, casually making your way to the bar with an already empty glass of champagne. That was enough to tell him that you had been here a while, so either you hadn’t seen him yet or you were just straight up avoiding him. If you were, then that bothered him quite a bit. He wanted to talk to you, to try and fix that he had broken between you. But if you didn’t want to see him, then was it really worth the effort?

“Mr. Bakugou? Did you hear my question?”

“Eh?” His attention on you broken, Bakugou’s gaze was pulled down to the woman in front of him, who was peering up at him curiously. She had been blabbering off to him for the past half hour, doing everything she possibly could to keep his focus and conversation. What she was really trying to do was obvious, with her low-cut dress and flirtatious body language. From what he had gathered, she was brand new to the hero scene, and she wanted to climb up the ladder based off networking and… sleeping with the big boys. He had considered going along with it, even though he barely remembered anything she had told him, but now he just didn’t give a shit. He just wanted to get away before he lost you in the crowd again.

“I asked if you were planning on taking in any new interns. If so, I… wanted to get my name out there. Maybe we can talk about it in private?”

“Uh, no. I’m not. Excuse me.” The way he pardoned himself was more like a demand to move, not bothering to pay attention to her whining as he squeezed himself out of the group he had been standing in. Thankfully, when he was finally free, he saw you still waiting at the bar, eyes on the bartender as they mixed up a drink. Sitting on a stool, you looked exceptionally elegant in your glittering dress, which hugged your figure. It came to a stop right above your knees, though the fabric was hiked up to your mid-thigh from your legs being crossed. The black hose you wore only hinted at the soft skin beneath, and how badly he wanted to touch you was almost suffocating.

“Thank you!” You spoke with a smile as the bartender handed your drink to you, still not having even noticed Bakugou. “Getting a lot of business, are you?”

“Ah, yeah!” The young man spoke with a pleasant grin, beginning to dry out some glasses with a rag. “These parties are always a riot! And they pay well.”

After taking a healthy sip from your drink, you leaned back a bit to sit up straighter. “I bet you’re getting amazing tips. You have to be at least a little tipsy at these parties. Especially if you’re dealing face to face with the host!”

It was then that Bakugou decided to step in, clearing his throat as he came to sit beside you. “Excuse me?”

“Oooh, well, speak of the devil.” A sly smile crossed your lips as if you had known he was there the entire time. Of course you had known, why else would you say such a teasing and rude thing to the little bartender? After two hours at this ridiculously rowdy party, you had finally found and gotten Bakugou’s attention.

Finally.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to come.” With a snap of his fingers towards the bartender, he got his attention. “Whisky.”

Ignoring his command for alcohol, you stirred your own drink with the straw. “I wasn’t at first. But everyone was talking about how big this party was going to be and how it would look good for me to show up… I decided the networking and positive publicity was worth having to suffer through your presence.”

Even though he felt a twinge of annoyance at your snarky attitude, Bakugou gave an amused scoffed, taking a hefty swig from his drink once it was placed in front of him. “You can bullshit other people, [Name], but not me. Don’t fuck around.”

“You’ve done enough fucking around for both of us, Kacchan.” Your words were tinted with ice, even though there was still a flirty heat behind them. “How does it feel? To have so much fame that all these people come just to get a chance to introduce themselves to you. Or to have women on their knees in seconds. That poor little blonde you left over there; she must be very dejected.”

“You know damn well networking irritates the shit out of me. And you’re no better. If I wasn’t sitting next to you, there would be men lining up just to be rejected by you. Why the fuck do you have to bring that shit up, anyway? Can’t we just have a normal conversation without you throwing that in my face?”

“It’s all I was to you,” Your gaze left your drink to look up at him, the man that you adored more than anything. Yet, here you were, pushing him away again with your bitterness. You had already forgiven him, for pushing you aside and abandoning what life you could have had together for his career. He seemed to be making an effort… why couldn’t you? “What else would you want to talk about? Work? Ratings? Money? That’s all you care about, so if you want to boast, then go for it. I’ll pretend to listen like you do to those girls.”

“In the past year that we’ve had more than a five-minute conversation, I’m pretty fucking sure I hadn’t said a word about myself. That’s you. You bring it up.”

With his accusation, Bakugou could see your cheeks begin to flush, your frustrations with yourself showing themselves even so slightly. He knew that forced blank expression, that stiff posture as you tried to stay strong to not let your tough front crumble. More than anything, he wished that wall you had built around yourself would crack, even just slightly, to allow him in.

“You’re the one that told me all those years ago that you only care about building your career and you wouldn’t let anything get in the way of that. So why are you even trying to talk to me right now, Kacchan? You have everything you ever wanted.”

“That’s not true. Come with me.” Bakugou stood, picking up his glass as he did. “I can’t talk to you over this fucking shit music.”

For a moment, you hesitated. You knew that if you were alone with him, you would break. All this time, you had refused to give him any more than a few minutes of your time, but it wasn’t because you hated him. You were scared that your feelings for him would explode the instant you were alone, that the craving to feel that happiness from all those years back would cause you to make a mistake.

Would it be a mistake? Or would you finally feel complete again?

With a sigh, you stood, fixing your dress back into place before snatching up your own drink and following him towards one of the many exits. Much to your annoyance, many people tried to stop you both to chit chat, or to keep Bakugou's attention as long as they could. Over and over, he either ignored or dismissed them, even people you recognized to be CEOs of huge corporations. Each time, your heart fluttered, softening your resolve until you were blushing fiercely.

Out in the hallway, Bakugou gave a heavy sigh, relieved for the music to be muffled after the door shut behind you. “Finally… I hate that shit.” Taking a few steps forward, he pushed a button on the elevator, prompting you to glance up as the number began to descend.

“Where are you taking me?”

“To my office. No one but me has a key to get in. We can be alone…”

“Don’t you think it will seem suspicious for us to go up there? People will talk.”

“People talk anyway. People were talking the instant I sat down next to you.” Bakugou’s crimson glare set off that familiar fire within you, making you clutch onto your dress with your free hand. “You think people don’t know how we used to be? We weren’t exactly subtle…”

“That was a long time ago…”

“Five years isn’t a long time. Not to forget things like that between such high-profile people.”

With a ding, the elevator opened in front of you, and with a vague gesture from Bakugou, you walked inside first. He stood beside you, and the instant the elevator door closed, the tension was almost palpable. But it wasn’t an uncomfortable tension, which you slowly came to realize as the elevator rose up to the top floor. It was a mutual wanting, some type of magnetic force that you were both fighting against with all your strength. He was so close to you, within your grasp and yet so far away.

Could you really let him back in?

Bakugou once again allowed you to exit first before following, sipping from his glass as he headed straight for his office entrance. This wasn’t the first time you had been up to this floor of his agency, but it was the first time you were going to visit his private office. Corporate meetings were held up here, just down the hall, and you had always wondered what was behind those double doors to the left.

Pulling out his ID from his pocket, he held it up in front of a sensor, which went off with a beep and the click of the doors unlocking followed. Pulling the door open, Bakugou nodded for you to go in, silent and cautious. At first, you only watched him for any signs of regret or reconsideration, but you saw none. Even your own second thoughts were hidden in the back of your mind, so you entered, a bit surprised at the perfect and professional order of his office. It wasn’t quite what you expected, but then again, there were a lot of things about Bakugou that were unexpected.

Most people would see him and instantly think ‘that man is a brute’ or ‘he’s absolutely vile’. Was he? Yes, absolutely. But there were things that only you had seen, that he would not dare share with another living soul. He had told you about his insecurities, his worries and his regrets. You had held him when he awoke in a panic, brought on by nightmares he couldn’t control. He had laughed with you about teenage memories, smiling with such sincerity that you were sure he must have been another person entirely. Even more special, the way he would caress you and kiss you with such a sweet tenderness you would just melt in his hands. He was gentle and loving behind all that explosive anger.

Loving… Were we in love? I… never really thought it would have been possible… For him to love another person. Feeling your emotions swell a bit at the thought, you struggled to restrain the burning in your eyes, refusing to cry in front of him already. How could you possibly become that weak willed just because you were alone together? Had you really put on such a strong facade for the public that you didn’t even feel like yourself anymore?

“People always assume I have everything just from what they can see.” Bakugou spoke after the door shut, gaining your attention and momentary distraction from your emotions. “This office. That’s all you see. Awards. Certificates. Success. Or at least, all what people assume success to be. And I’ve reached it faster than most… Because I worked so hard for it.” After finishing off his drink, he sat the empty glass down on the edge of his desk.

At the moment, your sharp tongue was dulled, finding that you wanted to hear what he had to say. He was speaking so calmly, as if this was something that he had been waiting for, like his speech had been rehearsed in his mind over and over. That, or he was tired of hiding his emotions.

Little did you know that both were true. Bakugou had thought about what he would say to you in a situation like this, how he would get his point across that he had made a mistake pushing you so far away. How he was going to tell you that he wanted you in his life desperately? With these desires, he knew that he couldn’t hide a single ounce of himself from you. If he did, he would lose you, and he refused to let that happen. So, no matter how embarrassing it was, how frustrated he was at trying to find the right words, he would fumble until he caught his footing.

“I wanted this.” Bakugou gestured to their surroundings. “I wanted it more than anything. I wanted it so badly that I lost sight of something that I needed. That time with you made me happier than any of this shit that I have now. And I was stupid to not realize that back then.” He came up to stand in front of you, and by now, the burning in your eyes was uncontrollable. The instant is hands came up to caress your upper arms, you lost the slim control you had, the hot tears rolling down your cheeks.

“I think about it all the time. How we could have spent all these years growing together. I was selfish back then… You were right to hate me for the things I did to you. For treating you like… just an obstacle in my path. Then, and now, I don’t deserve you. But I want you. And before you snap at me, it’s not just your body. I want your laugh, your smile, your support and happiness. And I want to give you mine.”

Sniffling, you felt strangled as you tried to process his words. You could tell by the softness of his tone and his touch that he was being genuine. Bakugou, out of all people in the world, couldn’t lie without becoming a flustered mess. The truth was often even harder for him to admit, so the fact that it was coming out of his mouth so smoothly made your heart and stomach flutter. It was your turn, to tell him that you wanted all the same, but the words were lost to you. How could he admit his feelings so easily, while you were completely useless? Had you really built your wall that strong, that not even the person you loved with all your heart could get through?

“Katsuki…” You finally got through with a hiccup, only able to manage a quick glance up at him. “Did you ever love me?”

“Are you shitting me? Do you think I’d tell you all this if I didn’t? And what happened to ‘Kacchan’? Hm?” The snarky smirk that crossed his lips brought a more intense fire to your cheeks, giving a playful click of your tongue as he wiped your tears away with rough thumbs.

“I only call you Kacchan when I’m pretending to be mad at you.” After setting your drink down on the nearby desk, you placed your hands on his chest, tenderly adjusting the collar of his nice dress shirt. “After all this time you still refuse to wear ties. Even to your own company parties.”

“I hate them. I need to breathe.”

“I think you just like looking like the bad boy.” You couldn’t resist stepping in closer as his hands fell to grip your hips, the heat of his body so irresistible. “You and your tough guy facade.”

“Whatever. We both know you fucking love it.”

“I do, Katsuki.” You caressed his cheeks softly, entire body tingling with the feeling of his hands sliding up your sides. “I never hated you. Never. Maybe that makes me stupid, too… But I always knew it…”

“Knew what?” His lips were dangerously close to yours now, brushing softly as he spoke. Even his gaze was nearly crippling, already feeling your legs growing weak. He was so dangerous, so absolutely irresistible to you that there wasn’t anything you could do to control your wanting for him. Not anymore.

“That you would come back to me.”

With that, any restraint the two of you may have had was broken, lips immediately crashing into each other with a fierce and familiar passion. How long it had been didn’t matter in that moment. Bakugou knew exactly how to kiss you, how to hold your body against his and make your legs weak. The hot taste of whisky on his tongue made your entire body feel warm, starting from your core and spreading through each nerve. It was like every inch of you was on fire, the heat pooling between your legs as you couldn’t resist your arousal. Everything about him was exactly like you remembered, only… there was more.

It was obvious to you that he had grown in experience and practice, even just from this short time together. Although you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy towards the other women whom he had relations with, you knew that from this moment on, if you accepted him, it would be only you. There would never be another woman or man between you, nor any career or goals. It would be you and him together, to be everything you ever wanted. And needed.

“A-ah, Katsu--” You couldn’t resist a soft moan as his hands eagerly gripped onto your ass, even though it was immediately smothered by the kiss. His palms were so hot that you could already feel them through the fabric of your dress, only further reminding you of the things you loved about him. You didn’t know if it was because of his quirk or if it was just how his body was, but any time he got all hot and bothered, his palms would become unbelievably warm. It was never to the point that you couldn’t bare it, but it was just enough to melt you and make you crave to feel it against your bare skin. Tugging him backwards with a simple step and yank to the front of his shirt, you stumbled back until your legs hit his desk, the rattling of the ice in your drink barely registering in your feverish mind.

The loud crashing and clanking of other miscellaneous belongings falling to the floor was just as ignored by the both of you, pushed aside with a single sweep of Bakugou’s arm. In nearly the same instant, you were turned, upper body forced down onto the desk from a strong pressure between your shoulder blades. One hand firmly on your back to keep you in place, Bakugou let the other travel down your side and to your hips.

“Five years have done you a lot of favors, [Name]. Your body is fucking irresistible.”

Unable to really move, you could only support yourself on trembling legs, entire being racked with excitement and anticipation at what he would do to you next. You could feel his cock pressing into your ass from beneath his pants, and you knew damn well he was doing that on purpose. It was just another way to tease you at what you had been missing all this time and what you desperately wanted. “Are you saying it hasn’t always been?”

“Don’t be a smart ass with me. I’ve craved every inch of you…” With that, you felt the cool air of the office on your backside as your dress was pushed up to your lower back. Both strong hands moved to grope you and spread you open, an amused chuckle following. “Fuck, I can see how wet you are already. And no underwear? Were you expecting something?”

The feeling of his thumb stroking against your sex made you shudder, nibbling at your bottom lip. Even through your hose, the pleasure of his touch was irresistible, softly gasping with each stroke to your clit. “Any time I see you, I always hope that you’ll want me again. It was an impulse… not to wear underwear. I thought that… maybe ton-- a-ah!” You were cut off by a moan, surprised by the sudden hot and wet pressure against your clit. Unable to see him well, you didn’t notice that he had knelt down until he made his presence known, running his tongue along your sex with the hose still in place.

The sensation was odd at first to the both of you, but you couldn’t deny how good it felt. Even if he wasn’t on your clit directly, the cloth still grew taught against it with his movements, teasing you with just a hint of pressure. You wanted more so badly, but you knew begging wasn’t going to get you anywhere just yet. He was going to do whatever he wanted with you, and there wasn’t any point in trying to stop him, not with how badly you wanted this.

Suddenly, there was a new sensation and sound. With a firm tug and the ripping of cloth, you felt your hose loosen from your body, splitting right down the middle seam to fully expose you. Bakugou had done it with his teeth, you knew his antics well, but that didn’t mean you were any less annoyed that he just ripped your favorite hose. “Hey, Katsuki! These are my-- ooh, fuck!” You dug your nails into the wood of his desk as he began to eat your out mercilessly, gripping onto your hips to keep you still.

Turning your face more into the desk, you moaned and panted against the wood, the pleasure tingling through your body like hot sparks. Within minutes, you were brought to a leg shaking orgasm, your knees buckling. The only reason you stayed up on the desk was your upper body and Bakugou’s hands on your hips.

“Fucking hell… I’ve missed seeing you cum like that. You always cum so hard for me.” Slipping his fingers beneath the hole he had made in your hose, he ripped them just a bit more, giving him full and easier access to your wet and twitching pussy. He could have just stared at the heavenly sight for hours, watching your juices drip down your thighs and onto the floor. Never had a woman get so wet for him the way that you did, always so hot and ready to be fucked from something as simple as a kiss. While he used one hand to stroke your folds and tease your swollen clit, his other moved down to his pants, loosening his belt. “Such a good little bitch. Tell me who you belong to.”

“Y-you, Katsuki.” Body still recovering, you couldn’t resist the slight jerking of your body with his teasing of your clit.

Once his pants were unbuttoned and unzipped, Bakugou began to stroke himself to the sight of you, spreading your pussy open with his fingers. “Have you ever had someone fuck you as good as I do?”

“No, only you can make me feel so good. No other man can ever c-come close.”

“No other man will ever come close.” Standing, Bakugou pressed his tip against your waiting hole, teasingly pressing into you until you were squirming beneath him. “Now tell me what you want.”

“I-I want your cock!”

“Beg.”

“P-please, Katsuki! Please, fill me up and fuck me!”

Leaning forward, Bakugou allowed himself to slip in just slightly. He pressed his lips against your flushed cheek, smirking against your skin. He loved seeing you like this, already completely smitten and hopelessly aroused. You’d do or say anything he wanted, and he knew that being treated like this was what turned you on more than anything else. “Harder.”

His low voice in your ear made your head swim, becoming increasingly frustrated with the teasing. “I’m begging you! Please hurry up and fuck me, Katsu! My pussy is yours, please do whatever you want to me, until I’m ruined with your cum dripping down my legs! Katsu, please!” That sweet nickname flowing from your lips again after five years instantly flushed Bakugou’s chest full of a raging and familiar fire, both of his hands moving to grip tightly onto your hips.

“That’s it, babygirl.” Slowly, his cock began to fill you up, forcing a gasp from your lips as you arched your hips up into him. The soft grunt he let slip near your ear instantly almost had you cumming again, looking up at him from the corner of your eye. Vision blurry with pleasured tears, you could barely make out the furrow of his brow, though the passion in his glare was perfectly clear. You were about to be absolutely ravaged, and you couldn’t wait a second longer. But you did, soaking in the feeling of each inch vanishing within you, filling you to the brim. “You want it so bad, then take it.”

You were already trembling by the time he hissed the demand into your ear, knowing that if you weren’t lying down on the desk, your legs would have given out by now and you’d be sprawled useless on the floor. Already you could feel how full you were, his cock pulsing against your constricting walls and just itching to move. Unable to resist the urge himself, Bakugou sat up from you, hands gripping your hips tightly as he began to slowly and roughly thrust his hips. The first few thrusts of his cock inside you felt foreign, like you had almost forgotten what it was like to be fucked by him. But, very quickly, he found his rhythm, bringing back all those things you were familiar with.

The hot slapping of skin. Burning palms. Fingers with a grip so tight you knew they would bruise. Sticky liquid coating your body, from sweat to your own juices as it rolled down your legs with each aggressive thrust. Bakugou’s grunts of pleasure, mixed in with your own uncontrollable moans. A deep presence within your womb, enough to make your stomach feel full every time he sunk his cock into you. The teasing words and name calling, forcing his dominance upon you in a way that made you completely swoon.

In no time at all, you were cumming again, arching your hips up into his as you screamed and begged for the release you had so desperately missed. And then, in typical Bakugou fashion, he removed his cock from you, right on the edge of your orgasm. It faded away in a rush of tingles, and with some ounce of strength, you pushed yourself up onto your elbows to glare at him over your shoulder.

“Seriously, Katsuki? You’re still into that edging shit?!”

“Into it?” Bakugou smirked, grabbing you by both arms and forcing you back up onto your feet. His cock settled between your legs, pressing into your sex as he held your body back against his. With soft, slow thrusts, you watched as his tip vanished and reappeared again, stroking against your clit. Releasing one of your arms, the other came up to grip your neck, resting his lips at your ear. “I’ve mastered it, babygirl. And don’t try to pretend that you don’t love it.”

Putting some pressure on your neck, Bakugou kissed and nibbled at the exposed skin of your shoulder. “I’ve missed seeing your expressions when you cum so hard after being edged over and over. The way your eyes roll back in your head… That crazed and satisfied smile on your lips. Your body trembling and jerking. Fuck, you’re just so damn sexy.” He used his free hand to pull the already low-cut neckline of your dress down, allowing your breasts to fall free. He increased the speed of his thrusting, giving a sigh of pleasure in your ear as he groped and massaged your breasts.

Although the thigh fucking was a much slower pace than what he had been taking just a moment before, you couldn’t resist how good it felt just to be played with. There was no effort on your part, except for somehow finding the strength to stay standing. His lips on your skin. His teeth in your flesh. His hands on your breasts. His cock between your legs. All of it was sending you into a whole new round of bliss and almost the feeling of being… worshiped. Yes, it was for his enjoyment too, but each movement he made and shifting of his hips was to bring you pleasure.

“K-Katsu,” you moaned out sweetly, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. “I can’t believe you still remember how to play with me. What my body wants and begs for.”

“I could never forget your body, [Name].” He paused for just a moment to allow his cock to slip back into your waiting pussy, watching your face as it contorted with pleasure. “Everything about it drives me fucking crazy. Not just your body, but you. All of you. I can’t stand the thought of being without you a second longer.” With a slight push from his thumb, you turned your head to meet his lips in a passionate kiss, which spurred his thrusts to go faster. He held your body back against him, one arm around your waist with the other across your chest, caressing your neck and playing with your breasts as he wished.

You felt so close to him, so wanted and adored for the first time in so many years. In that moment, you decided it wasn’t enough. You wanted him closer.

“Stop, wait--” With a slight push of your hand to his stomach, he stopped as instructed, even though confusion flashed across his face. Turning, you hopped up to sit on his desk, immediately pulling him closer and wrapping your legs around his waist. “I want to hold you, Katsu.”

Another passionate kiss was shared as he picked back up on where he had left off fucking you, but his movements became rougher and more excited. Having you in this more intimate position must have spurred on his excitement, and that wasn’t anything for you to complain about. But, for you, there was a twinge of sudden reconsideration that you hadn’t expected. It came with a sudden rush of pure emotion, a raging storm that you had tried to keep at bay.

Disbelief. Excitement. Remorse. Anger. Wanting. Fear. Passion. Love.

Love.

That’s what it was.

As you began to feel another orgasm building rapidly within you, you released your grip of your arms around his neck to instead caress his cheeks. “Katsu,” With the soft mention of his name, his gaze caught yours, though he never lost his rhythm or pace in the way he was fucking you. You knew you had to get it out before you lost control of yourself again, barely able to speak against the pleasure that was only growing. “Katsuki. I love you. I-I’ve loved you since the beginning. I w-want to do this together. To be together.”

Bakugou let his hand fall to your lower back, shifting your body closer to him to allow him in deeper. Leaning back a bit with his movement, you kept yourself propped up with one arm while the other was around his neck, clutching on tightly to the back of his shirt. At first, your eyes were drawn down to watch how he fucked you, until his words brought your eyes back up. Behind the haze of lust and pleasure, you could see it, the genuine adoration and love for you that he had been hiding all this time in fear. There was no more fear between you. Only hope and the prospect of true happiness.

“I love you, [Name]. And from now on, I won’t ever let your stupid ass forget it.” With one more kiss shared between you, he immediately increased his efforts, fucking you so hard and rough that the already abused desk began to creak. The sound of your drink falling and glass breaking across the pristine tile floor was ignored; all focus the two of you could muster only on each other.

You could feel it, building up within your core, and you couldn’t stop it from showing on your face. “F-Fuck, Katsu, I’m going to cum! Please! Please let me!”

“It’s okay, babygirl. Cum for me.” With his words whispered in ragged breath against your lips, you couldn’t hold back another moment. As the ball that had grown within you exploded, you collapsed back against the desk, your voice squeaking with the powerful onslaught of pleasure. With full access to your hips, now, Bakugou held onto them tightly, fucking you through your orgasm. To him, it was a beautiful sight, your sweaty and ravaged body completely broken and at his mercy. Bakugou never wanted to stop, but before he realized it, his need to cum was suffocating.

“[Name]...-”

Gaining a moment of lucidity from hearing your name, you peered up at him, smiling as you rested your arms up above your head. “Come inside me, Katsu--” With your permission, Bakugou immediately grew more aggressive and erratic, your moans edging him on. “Please cum inside me! Fill me up with your hot cum, Katsuki!”

Within moments, Bakugou did just that, tugging your hips against his tightly as he released inside you. It was so hot you could feel it, filling your womb and coating your still contracting walls. With his release, Bakugou let out a satisfied grunt, before sighing in absolute pleasure. From your view, he looked so worn out, sweaty with clothing and hair completely disheveled. You were sure that you looked exactly the same, but in Bakugou’s eyes, you were nothing but absolute perfection.

With his cock still pulsing inside you, he leaned himself forward, propping himself up on his elbows on either side of your body. Softly, he moved some hair out of your face before his lips met yours. It was different now, a tender kiss that made your stomach flutter like you were a little girl in love for the first time. You wrapped your arms around him, running your fingers through his hair and softly stroking his back as he showered your lips, cheeks and neck with sweet affections.

“This is what I’ve missed…” He spoke near your ear, low and calm. “This… gentle intimacy. You’re the only person I can experience it with- who I’d want to experience it with.”

“My Katsuki… Me, too.” Now, the tears began to return to your eyes, so overcome with bubbly happiness and pure love. “I never want to lose you again.”

“You won’t, [Name]. Never again.”

With another sweet kiss, you were both suddenly startled by a loud buzzing in Bakugou’s back pocket, which reverberated through your still connected bodies. With an annoyed huff, Bakugou removed himself from you and allowed you to sit up and adjust your dress back over your breasts as he grabbed his phone to check the message. “Ah fuck.”

“What is it?”

“My assistant… I’m almost thirty minutes late for my speech before the gift raffle. Well shit.”

Giggling softly, you looked down at the mess you had both made. Broken glasses, scattered office supplies, papers and even his name plaque littered the floor. “Well, at least we still kept all our clothes on.”

With a click of his tongue, Bakugou headed over towards a door, walking inside. “I still have to fucking change, I’m sweaty as fuck.” His voice echoed, so you grew curious, following him in to see that it was a whole bathroom with a shower, tub and everything else that came standard. You followed him around a corner to see that he also had a full walk in closet, making you gasp in shock.

“Damn, Katsu! Think you have enough space? Do you live here?!”

“Of fucking course I don’t.” Bakugou glowered at you, stripping off his shirt before stepping out of his pants. “I just have extra clothes.”

“Won’t people be suspicious if you come down in new cloths- oh. You have the same exact ones.”

“Always have to be prepared, [Name]. I just… don’t have an extra dress for you. Or hose. Sorry.” He smirked at you as you looked down at your legs, the hose you wore soaked with liquid and torn all the way down to your thighs. Huffing, you pushed them down before plopping yourself onto the toilet, relieving yourself as you took off your shoes.

“My dress is fine, it’s my hose that I’m upset about! These were my favorite ones!”

“I’ll buy you more. Are you taking a piss?!”

“You’re lucky I didn’t piss all over your desk, I’ve had to pee for like an hour.”

“And I still wouldn’t want you to leave.”

Smiling, you rolled the ruined hose into a ball and put them in the trash, cleaning yourself up with toilet paper. Once done, you put your shoes back on, flushed and went to wash your hands. While you were doing so, Bakugou emerged back from the closet, back dressed just as spiffy as he had been before. Coming to stand behind you, he wrapped his arms around your waist, giving your cheek a soft kiss. “I’m happy you’ve forgiven me, [Name]. That you want me back…”

“Of course I do, Katsuki. These few years just made me realize that… I can’t be happy without you.”

“Me, too.” After another kiss, he went to the other sink, grabbing a toothbrush and squeezing some toothpaste onto it.

Confused, you wiped your hand on a towel, before attempting to fix the mess your hair had become. “What are you doing?”

“Brushing my teeth. I can’t exactly go back to a party with my breath smelling like whisky and pussy, now can I?”

“Nah, you should. It’ll keep all those girls away.”

“You being on my arm will keep them away enough.”

“Touché. Going public already… Bring it on.”

“You got it, babygirl.”

#bnha-christmas2019 #bnha imagines #bnha scenarios #bakugou x reader #bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha fanfiction #fanfiction #bnha writing blog #xreader #personal #cutesuki-lemons

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scribblingfangirl · 5 years ago

Text

WANDERLUST | The Witcher - Jaskier

not my gif!

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Author’s Note: My second attempt! I’m still not able to find a good ending, but I think I’m getting there. English is not my first language, so I hope there aren’t to many mistakes.

word count: ~ 1.9k

prompt: //

warnings: //

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You were standing behind the bar, chatting with yet another drunken guest, well, rather distracting him from the fact that you hadn’t, even after his fifth attempt, given him another ale, when the door to the tavern flew open.

The man you had been fretting about since he had left with the Witcher the prior day stood there, smiling at you with open arms. “Mind my words Posada! The next thing you’ll throw at me won’t be bread! It will be coin! I will enchant you with the tales of the White Wolf and how he defeated your devil!”

His sudden appearance and outburst startled a few of the guests that were spread out throughout the tavern and not drunk enough to be able to ignore him, resulting in a few spilt drinks and angry mutterations. You just sighed, while Jaskier, stupidly unaware of his surroundings, walked as if nothing had happened up to the bar and took a seat, scaring away the drunkard.

It would be a lie if you said that you weren’t glad to see him this way, alive and happy. Having heard the dark stories and tales about the Butcher of Blaviken, you couldn’t but be afraid for Jaskier’s life, or rather, his mouth, as he had the extraordinary ability to talk him into very stupid and dangerous situations. Yet, you knew what the grin and the mischievous glittering in his blue eyes meant. He had found his muse, his inspiration and would soon be leaving to begin a new adventure. It was just like the day he left his old life behind to pursue his new calling as a bard.

So, all you could do was chuckle at his usual exaggerated behaviour and started to wipe the counter. It was dark outside, well into the night and almost, if not already, closing time for the tavern, but you were waiting for Jaskier, knowing he’d return to you if he saw the lights still lit. Not that you would tell him that, or anybody else for that matter. You both might have been young, but his reputation was already well established and you didn’t want to be just another girl in his bed. You’d already lost your appreciation for yourself the moment you started to follow Jaskier around like a puppy and you didn’t want to sink any lower in your own regard.

“You heard that? I’m going to be Geralt of Rivia's barker!” Jaskier said while leaning across the counter and tapping his finger excitedly against it. For the other tavern guests, it might have seemed, as if he was afraid, that you wouldn’t be able to hear him. You knew, however, that this was just his way, unconsciously always searching for a little more closeness than before.

As did you. Even though you could have lost yourself in his blue eyes, you soon felt your own wandering down his face, following the lines of his neck, over his Adam’s apple and stopping at the visible line of chest hair. Thankfully, he had already leaned back and turned around, not seeing the way your eyes betrayed you, as he started waving happily at the Witcher, who had just appeared in the doorway.

You blushed in the meantime, cleared your throat, and hopefully head as well, not used to such a closeness to the bard. “The usual?” you asked to distract yourself and went to grab a clean glass behind you, hoping to give your face enough time to cool down.

“No,” you heard him say behind you. “Give us the best and strongest ale you have. After all, he defeated the devil of Posada!”

“Was it really the devil? With horns and all?” you asked, turning around and seeing that the Witcher had now approached you both and taken a seat besides Jaskier.

“Yes! And I’ve got a song to tell the tale! You’ve got to hear it! Oh!” he suddenly stopped, then smiled and stood up, bringing is lute to the front of his chest. “Actually, I have to perform right now it in front of this ungrateful lot. Let’s see how close I can bring them together now. This is…”

“... a story for another time,” the Witcher finished the sentence for him, his deep voice thick with annoyance and tiredness. He waved you off as you went to grab another cup, telling you to put the alcohol back. “This lady seems to be cleaning up and probably wants to close the bar. I’ll retreat to my chambers now.” After he stood up, he pushed Jaskier forcefully back into his seat, as he passed him to go to the stairs leading to the bedrooms.

“He’s either incredibly stupid or extremely brave, if he agrees to be accompanied by you, Jaskier,” you say as you look after him, completely missing the faint hint of jealousy that washes over the bards face.

“Hm,” you heard the Witcher grumble, as he stopped at the beginning of the stairs, having heard you thanks to his reinforced hearing abilities. “I never agreed to anything. You might even make a better travel companion.” Then he definitively stomped up the stairs, leaving Jaskier squirming, gesturing indignantly with his arms at the edge of your field of vision and squeaking helplessly.

“You’re already welcome!” the bard finally called after him, but you doubted that the Witcher heard it, reinforced hearing or not. Then he placed his lute carefully on the counter. “Isn’t she sexy? I got her from Filavandrel after one of his fellow elves broke my old one. That’s at least one reason to celebrate,” he added quickly, as he saw that you had started to clean up the bar for real and gestured to the last guests to pay up and leave. “Why does nobody ever care about Jaskier?”, he asked then, pouting and slouched against the bar, staring at the wall in front of him.

“I care about Jaskier, a lot, but some of us do have a job so that they’re able to go home with some coin.” Without a second thought, you pushed his hair out of his face, so that you could take a proper look at him, freezing for a short while the moment you touched his forehead and then retracting your hand and occupying it with any task you could think of.

Jaskier didn’t react immediately. He seemed frozen too, then moved his head and looked at you, still slouched against the counter, but a with a bright smile plastered on his face. You didn’t like that look. Suddenly he heaved himself up, clearing his throat and supported himself with his arms on the counter. “You could come with us! Be my muse! After all, Geralt did say that you might make a more favourable companion than I. You must give me the possibility to prove him wrong!”

The silence that followed his request gave him the answer he needed but didn’t want to hear. “You… You don’t want to?”, he inquired stunned.

“Jaskier.” You breathed out his name and weren’t even sure if it was loud enough for him to hear. Gladly you took the coin the last tavern guest handed you as a distraction. This was his wish and dream, not yours. You weren’t a traveller, didn’t want a big adventure, just a cosy home and someone who loved you to come home to. Things Jaskier would never be able to give you, you knew that and yet, your heart just couldn’t let go of him.

“Why?” His voice nearly broke saying just this one word and he stared at you, his eyes wide open as he grabbed your hands, that were scrubbing the same spot over and over for the past minutes.

You clenched your eyes shut and blew air out of your nose. “We both know why. I mean, come on! The university staff was right to look at me weirdly as I quit my job at the same time as you. I should’ve just stayed in Oxenfurt as a librarian. Look at what you’ve been doing while I stayed behind, watching over drunkards and sweeping tavern floors. What would I be even bringing to the table?”

His hands clenched tighter around yours. “I think we have to go now.”

That was an answer and reaction that you weren’t expecting. “What, where? Wait, Jaskier!” You almost didn’t have the time to finish up your work behind the bar, as he started to pull you towards the exit.

Opening the door for you, he let you get dressed quickly before he shoved you out into the cold air. “I have to show you something.”

This is when you realized that he let go of your hand and instead intertwined his fingers with yours. Blushing again, you tried to hide your face somehow from his view and act as nonchalantly as possible, even if it was almost pitch black at this time of the night, save for the occasional torch that was nearly burned down, and almost impossible for you to see his face, to begin with.

He stopped suddenly in front of the stable and turned you around to face him, looking serious. “I want to introduce you to someone. But do not tell Geralt about it! See… well, technically,” he started to babble nervously and his fingers fidgeted against yours. “You know what? Never mind!” He pushed the stable doors open. “Meet Roach!”

He had a plan, at least that much you had to give him. He knew how much you liked animals, especially horses, and wanted to convince you to join his travels by saying that you’d be able to watch over Roach and maybe even convince Geralt to let you ride her. Sadly, after walking around the stable for a few minutes, Jaskier had to admit, that he had no idea which horse it was, as he didn’t know what she looked like anymore.

You just punched him lightly in his shoulder and laughed, as you finally exited the stable. “All right, all right! You tried and you convinced me. I’m coming with you! Even if it’s only to help you out of tricky situations and keep track of your, apparently, rather leaky brain. But I won’t be playing matchmaker. If people are stupid enough to follow you into your room, that’ll be their fault.”

He turned around, after closing the doors behind you, looking bewildered. “Why would I need a matchmaker? As far as I’m concerned, there is a beautiful young barmaid right in front of me. My, as I’d like to call her, muse, whom I’ve been trying to impress since seeing her the first time in Oxenfurt, but, admittedly, failing miserably every time.”

This time your silence gave him the answer he needed and wanted. It would have been a lie if you’d said that you weren’t stupid enough to follow him to his room and that you were angry for throwing your own rules out of the window so fast. Being his muse for a little while and travelling with him and the soon to be White Wolf - and yes, deep within Geralt was thankful for the image change - was something you’d never come to regret. You were still young, after all, and had your whole life in front of you to find someone to come home to, and who knew? You’d helped Jaskier achieve his dreams, he might be able to help you achieve yours.

#jaskier x reader #jaskier imagine #jaskier one shot #jaskier fanfiction #jaskier x y/n #jaskier x you #the witcher imagine #the witcher x reader #jaskier #jaskier the witcher #my writing #viascribbles

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is-it-art-tho · 4 years ago

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This is Chapter 3!

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Summary: Jason will not let this happen again. He can't. But what if he's already too late?

Jason hated Halloween.

It didn’t used to be that way. There was a period, a lifetime ago, when he loved trick or treating.

Even now, he could still feel the bulky zombie teeth in his mouth, could hear the sound of miniature candies rattling around a plastic pumpkin bucket. Years of practice covering Bruce’s own bruises and scars had turned the older man into a savant with a palette and latex, and Jason could still picture the depths of Bruce’s eyes as he hovered practically nose to nose with the younger boy, skillfully crafting gruesome wounds and sutures across his face.

Back then, Halloween had been one of the few times a year when Jason and Bruce got to dress up for fun rather than battle or ritzy, soul-sucking fundraisers. It was a day when blades were made of plastic and Styrofoam rather than steel, and the things that lurked in the shadows were not deadly adversaries but friends and neighbors. A time when they moved with their feet planted firmly on the ground instead of along rooftops or soaring through the air, and the coming of night did not bring with it danger or violence.

On Halloween, blood tasted like food coloring and corn syrup. The bruises on Bruce’s face were bright and fake, and his scowl, usually menacing, was little more than a poorly disguised grin.

“No, you gotta be scary!” Jason had complained once after glancing up to find a wide smile on Bruce’s blotchy green face.

And Bruce had laughed, a full-throated sound from deep in his chest before promising, “Okay, okay, I’ll try.”

But that was then, and dwelling on those times now was an exercise in masochism.

These days, Halloween was easier to get through from inside a bar or holed up in his apartment. While miniature witches and cartoon characters trickled into the streets, he intended to spend the night plastered, eating too much food, watching mind-numbing TV, and praying the “No Candy” sign on his door would be enough to deter any would-be sugar gremlins.

As he kicked up his feet in nothing but his boxers and started scrolling through a selection of movies on the TV, though, he couldn’t quite manage to sink into the blissful detachment he so desperately craved. He shifted on the couch and glared at a movie synopsis without taking in any of the words there, a growing sense of frustration twisting through him.

It had already been two weeks and still his stomach was in knots, and he found himself swinging wildly from fits of aimless rage to bouts of queasy silence as Dick’s words reverberated through his head. Or rather, not his words, but his quiet.

And Jason hated himself for it because hadn’t he wanted this all along? To be free from the shadow of the bat? To assert himself as his own being with his own code? Hadn’t he personally waged war against them; wanted them dead?

How stupid to think a year and change of tenuous comradery might change any of that, might undo years of animus and at times outright violence between them.

They were right to keep him at arm’s length and expect him to be exactly what he had shown himself to be – a killer. It didn’t matter that it was because of them – because of Bruce’s inane code – that he hadn’t killed anyone in almost two years. Some things could not be undone. If anyone understood that, it ought to be him.

He glanced towards the linen closet in the hall where a duffel bag was crammed behind a couple towels and bed sheets. Inside was the new body armor he’d had Harper help him create. It was almost identical to what he usually wore, except this edition featured a brilliant red bat insignia across the chest. He’d been planning to start wearing soon.

He scoffed at himself.

He shouldn’t have been surprised. And maybe he wasn’t. But damn, if this didn’t still suck.

A ringtone went off, and Jason hopped up and made his way to the drawer in his kitchen where he kept his burners. He fumbled around before finding the dinky flip phone with a new message that simply said:

He’s out.

Jason sprinted into his room and emerged again in his Red Hood gear – the classic all black version – leaving a box of takeout and a scrolling screensaver on his TV as he slipped out the door.

The thick tires of his bike squealed against the asphalt as he tore around corners and down the still-sleeping streets of Gotham. Slowly, the store fronts, overpriced apartments, and new construction crumbled to ruins around him. Windows were replaced with graffitied plywood, buildings stood gaping and abandoned, some blackened with decades-old fire damage, others missing all together, just piles of rubble and garbage and overgrown weeds in empty spaces that reminded Jason of missing teeth. Even with the harvest moon drenching the city in pale light, these few blocks remained in shadow as if some invisible force hung overhead, blocking out the light.

Hood was headed for The Yards, a rougher part of town that reminded him of his old stomping grounds in Crime Alley. There were no trick or treaters out here. The few folks that walked the streets were mostly junkies and barflies and scantily clad girls. They noted him and offered nods of acknowledgement, unafraid.

He’d spent enough time in these parts now, that people who might typically shy away from cops knew that as long as they weren’t hurting anybody, he wasn’t going to bother them. It was a point of pride for him, that his reputation preceded him in that way; it made it easier for him to help the people who needed it most.

He pulled up in front of a defunct pizza shop and sauntered in through the boarded-up door, past the grimy tables and yawning brick oven, through the kitchen, and out the back door to the small alcove behind the restaurant lined with dumpsters and buzzing with the sounds of rodents and pests scurrying through trash.

A kid was sitting with his back against one of the dumpsters, a collection of glass bottles beside him. On the brick wall opposite him, Hood noted splatter stains over a glittering pile of broken glass. As if on cue, the kid picked up a bottle and flung it into the wall where it exploded in a spray of old beer and golden-brown shards.

Hood slipped off his helmet and tucked it under his arm so that he was only in his domino. A lot of the kids around here preferred when he stayed in the helmet. Some thought it was cool, but others, he could tell, found him easier to talk to that way. It was the eyes, he thought. There were certain things that were easier to admit aloud when you weren’t looking someone in the eyes.

This kid, though, was not one of them.

“Yo,” Hood said, walking over to slide down the side of the dumpster so that they were sitting side by side. Not touching, but close enough that a shift in weight, an adjusted leg could easily result in contact. This was another thing that not all kids around here liked – the physical closeness.

“Hey.” The boy didn’t look at him right away, instead waving his fingers over the bottles as he hunted for the next one to throw. He landed on a retro Coke and weighed the thick glass in his scrawny hands.

Hood watched him chuck it at the wall and grin at the explosion before asking, “How are things with you?”

Fry – that was what everyone called the kid around here; Hood had no idea why – shrugged, and his grin faded. Not into a frown, but a careful absence of expression. An absence that managed to say I’m fine and Please ask me what’s wrong and Please help all at once. It was the kind of look that Hood recognized too well; one he’d practiced in a mirror on more than one occasion when he was a kid, hoping someone would see it and understand.

They never did.

“Henry’s back,” Fry answered.

Hood already knew this. He had little informants all over this area; it was what the text had been about. But still he said, “Already? What about the trial?”

“He got bail.” Fry toyed with the neck of a new bottle, still not looking Hood in the eyes.

“And?”

Fry shrugged again, and Hood inwardly cursed the whole goddamn police department. It was a song he’d heard too many times before. Scumbag gets put away, makes bail, goes straight home, takes it out on the family, GCPD is nowhere to be found.

Stopping bank robbers and metas was easy. Those guys were loud and when they went away, they went away for a while. But this stuff, the villains who masqueraded as family men, as loving fathers and husbands – those were the real monsters. The masks they wore were more effective than any cowl or secret identity Hood had ever seen.

And it seemed that no matter how much time he spent talking with the kids in this area, working with them, trying clumsily to help them understand what to expect from social services and offering them numbers to some of his burners, he still felt like he wasn’t doing enough. There weren’t enough hours in the day, there wasn’t enough of him to singlehandedly pick up the pieces where the entire system was letting these kids – these families – down.

And God was it letting them down.

He wanted to get up right then. Every instinct in his body was screaming for justice, for revenge, and he wanted to go straight to Fry’s place and then to the GCPD to tell them to do their damn jobs and where they could find Henry’s body.

And maybe he should do that. It would be easier and more effective than anything the cops would do, and he felt now like he suddenly didn’t have anything to prove anymore. He was who he was, and if that made him the bad guy then so be it. A small price to pay in the grand scheme if that’s what it took to get things done.

As the rage swelled and Hood got ready to stand, he felt a small hand wrap around his. He looked, but Fry was staring away, his cheeks glistening in the orange glow from the light mounted above them on the brick wall.

And just like that, all of his restless fury melted into something dull and simmering, and Hood took a breath and tilted his head back against the grimy dumpster. “I’m sorry,” he sighed.

Fry shrugged again and sniffled. “What are you doing here anyway?” he asked, letting go of Hood’s hand to wipe his face.

“I can’t just come hang out with the coolest kid I know?”

Fry offered a shaky laugh. “Wanna try one?” He offered another Coke bottle and Hood took it.

With a quick flick of his wrist, he sent the bottle careening into the wall. Something about the motion reminded him of throwing a batarang – like muscle memory.

“Whoa!” Fry shouted. “That was a good one! Do it again!”

Fry shoved another bottle at Hood, and Hood chuckled as he launched it at the wall, the sharp crash mixing with the Fry’s delighted whoops.

And though Fry was now openly elated, there was still something in his face, a deep, unwavering kind of hurt.

It was the kind of pain that Hood knew would stay with the kid even if he managed to set Fry up with the best family in the best city tonight. Even if Hood made sure nothing bad ever happened to him again for the rest of his life, that wounded shadow would cling there, if only barely.

It was the mark of a kid who had experienced too much too soon, during those formative years. A kind of broken that could not be fixed, but instead was lived with, grown into, like a childhood birthmark or a scar.

It wasn’t the debilitating kind. He’d seen those kids too, the ones who were already so far gone, the scars so numerous and deep that it would take a miracle to reach them. Fry wasn’t there yet, and Hood just hoped he’d be able to help before he got there.

“So, no trick or treating, huh?” Hood asked. “What? Too good for candy or something?”

“Don’t have a costume. My mom said she would make me one but then…” His voice trailed off and he shrugged again.

Hood stared at him for a while then popped up, saying, “Wait right there,” before jogging back through the restaurant. He returned holding a leather jacket. This one was more casual than the one he wore on patrols; it lacked the sewn-in armor and additional slots for concealed weapons, but it matched his Red Hood jacket close enough.

“Stand up,” he said, and Fry obeyed, eyes wide. “Turn around.”

Fry turned and Hood slipped the jacket onto Fry’s small frame. It dangled off of him like a cloak and must have been fairly heavy judging by the slouch in Fry’s shoulders, but when he turned back around, he was beaming.

“Yeah,” Hood said, smiling and looking him up and down. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Oh–” He reached into his own jacket and pulled out a spare domino. “Put this on.”

Fry put it on, and the way his smile grew to encompass his entire face was almost cartoonish.

“Nice,” Hood said with a grin.

“I’m the Red Hood…?” he whispered. Then he looked up into Hood’s eyes. “I’m you?”

“Looks like it.” Hood breathed through the ache in his chest that made him want to change his mind and urge Fry to be somebody – anybody – else. A voice in his head moaned:

You don’t want to be me.

“So now for candy,” Hood continued. “I’m guessing there’s not much around here to work with.”

Fry shook his head.

“If you want, I can take you to one of the rich neighborhoods where they give out the good stuff. I’m talking king-sized name brands.”

“You’ll let me ride on your motorcycle?” Fry’s voice edged toward an eager shriek.

“Yeah, long as you promise not to make that sound again,” Hood laughed. “And that you won’t fall off,” he added.

Fry nodded vigorously as Hood clapped him on the back and steered him back through the kitchen saying, “Then let’s blow this joint.”

After they’d gotten on the bike and Fry had securely wrapped his arms around Hood’s mid-section, he asked, “Um, Hood…?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you… walk with me, too?”

Hood went still for a moment. His grip tightened on the handlebars as he turned around to smile, saying, “Well, duh. You think I’m gonna let you get all that candy to yourself?”

And Fry smiled, squeezing Hood’s torso even tighter and burying his face in the young man’s back as they roared down the street – slower, of course, than usual.

#batman fanfic #nightwing #jason todd #dick grayson #red hood #dick grayson and jason todd #dick grayson & jason todd #batman fanfiction

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