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hauerr77-and-a-dream · 3 years

Note

hello, i am back and requesting more stitch x naga content for this world :)

Sorry this took me so long to get to, but I turned it into a nice lil oneshot! Also written for @last-operator-standing who requested it as well!

AO3 link will be in the reblogs!

тупой идиот

Characters: Stitch x Naga

Warnings: Violence, blood, language

Word Count: ~2100

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arrogant.

That was the first thing Stitch thought when he met Kapano “Naga” Vang. He was arrogant. Naga was someone who was so full of himself that he would go out of his way to let everyone know who he was and exactly what he thought about them. All. The. Time.

God, he was annoying.

Had Perseus not expressed the importance of the warlord’s supply chains, Stitch would have killed him ten times over already, something he had already done countless times in his imagination. Thinking about the ways Stitch could go about killing Naga, to make him finally shut up, was the only thing that got him through days like today, where he was put on a mission with the other. Currently, Stitch was wondering how quickly it would take to suffocate the man with his Nova-6 gas, what Naga would look like as he withered away from the toxic chemicals.

It almost brought a smile to his face. At least, it would have if he hadn’t just watched Naga breached into the building they were supposed to infiltrate silently with a grenade launcher.

“тупой идиот!” Stitch yelled, cursing the man in Russian as an alarm began to sound throughout the base. Whether the other had even heard Stitch was unclear as Naga had already run into the building, swinging around a fancy assault rifle from his back with a mad laugh. With an exasperated sigh, Stitch pulled out his own weapon, trudging into the base behind Naga, where inside, bodies were already beginning to pile up.

“‘Bout time you showed up!” Naga laughed, turning his head to greet Stitch. Although he had his mask up and had those stupid sunglasses on, Stitch could see the fire in Naga’s eyes, the wicked grin he had on his face as he reloaded his weapon. The man was passionate about his job; Stitch could give him that. “So, are you going to help or what?” Naga asked, a sense of mockery in his voice.

“We were supposed to move in silently,” Stitch hissed back, moving to take cover beside Naga as a horde of enemies emerged on the other side of the hallway.

“What difference does it make?” Naga laughed, wanting to get a reaction out of Stitch.

The man was too serious all of the time, always looking at Naga with that look of disapproval. Like Stitch thought he was better than him with his cold, brooding exterior. Kapano had been quick to pick up on the fact that Stitch didn’t like him and even quicker to realize just how easy it was to get under his skin. And, with how easy and fun Stitch made it, how could Naga not want to try and press all his buttons? Surely at some point, he was going to snap and Naga couldn’t wait to see what kind of person was lurking under Stitch’s silent demeanour, especially after all of the stories he had heard about him.

“What difference does it make?!” Stitch retorted, his voice filled with a wave of certain anger that brought a grin to Naga’s face. “If we are unable to complete this mission successfully, it will be your head that Perseus puts on a spike,” Stitch spat.

“Then I guess we should complete the mission,” Naga smirked. “Unless, of course, you don’t think you have what it takes. Because I can do this without you if you need.”

Stitch growled in response, physically pushing past Naga with his shoulder, knocking the smaller man out of the way; if Naga wanted to play this game, there was no way in Hell Stitch would let him win. Stitch opened fire on the wave of enemies approaching them, his LMG tearing through a dozen of them within seconds.

“So you do remember how to shoot!” Naga exclaimed from behind Stitch. Instantly Stitch turned his head to shoot him a death glare but only saw the man pointing his handgun at him. Before either had the chance to say anything, Naga had fired a shot, the bullet flying just past Stitch’s shoulder and into the head of someone else approaching. “You missed one,” Naga pointed out, another smirk under his mask. This time, he was the one pushing Stitch aside to advance.

The alarms were blaring as the two of them made their way through the compound, each room seeming to have more armed guards waiting for them. The flashing red lights illuminating the base were soon the only source of light after Naga had made the bright decision to pull out his grenade launcher again when the duo made their way into the control room.

“You know you could have just flipped the switches, right?” Stitch asked, clear annoyance in his tone.

“Well, yeah, but, c’mon!” he proudly held up the weapon in his hands. “You wanna give it a go?” he asked, holding the launcher out to Stitch, who crunched his nose in disgust.

“A weapon like that demonstrates no skill of the man wielding it,” he stated, turning away. Naga jogged to catch up with him,

“I don’t think I like what you’re implying,” he said, jabbing a finger at Stitch. “The way I see it, I’ve done a lot more work here today than you have.”

“The only work you’ve done today is fuck everything up!” Stitch’s voice was getting louder with each word he yelled.

“Then why am I the one with the intel we need?” Naga smirked, holding up a floppy disk in between his fingers. Stitch’s eyes went wide,

“How long have you-”

“It was in like, the first room we went into.”

“And you-!” Stitch huffed in frustration, curling his hands into tight fists. “I am going to tear you limb by limb and watch as the maggots-”

“Over here!” a voice interrupted Stitch’s threats. The shout was followed by the sounds of even more guards on their way up to where Stitch and Naga were standing.

“I am going to slaughter you once we make it out of here,” Stitch growled at Naga, moving to position himself behind cover. They were currently in the middle of the building. The room was wide open and already littered with bodies from when they first arrived.

“Please,” Naga started, reloading his rifle. “How many more of them can there even be at this point?” However, as he said this, both entrances to the room they were standing in were suddenly filled with a dozen more people, at least, on each end. Stitch shot Naga another death glare, who just grinned in response.

Stitch shook his head, holding his tongue as the enemy began to push their way into the room. At the front of the line advancing, the guards were equipped with much heavier gear, meaning it was taking a lot more bullets to get them down. By the time the armoured ones were out of the way, the remaining enemies were within close range, giving neither of the two men time to reload their weapons.

Naga was quick to pull a knife from his pocket, lunging towards the person closest to him and driving the blade through their neck.

“Messy,” Stitch mumbled, watching as Naga quickly moved to the next person, using his knife to paint the floor a new shade red.

Instead of using a knife, Stitch simply grabbed the barrel of the gun from the person closest to him, twisting it out of the way as the person holding it held down the trigger, splattering the wall behind Stitch with bullet holes. Stitch then brought his knee up into the person’s chest, and as they stumbled backwards, he snatched the gun from their hands and shooting them point-blank in the skull. There were just enough bullets left in the magazine that Stitch was able to easily pick off the rest of the people on his side just as Naga finished filleting those on his.

“See?” Naga asked, wiping blood off of his blade. “That wasn’t so bad.” Stitch shook his head,

“Do you ever shut-” he cut himself off as he noticed one of the men on the ground still moving behind Naga, reaching for a gun inches away on the floor. “Get down!” Stitch yelled, not even hesitating to run towards Naga, pushing him out of the way just as the gun was fired.

“Damn!” Naga exclaimed, quickly scrambling back to his feet. “Did you just save my life?” he laughed, scooping up the gun that had just been fired. “I didn’t think you had it in you, Stitch,” he chuckled again as he put a bullet into the skull of the person who had just tried to take his life. However, as Naga put the gun away, he realized that he had received no reply for his snarky comment.

“Stitch?” Naga turned around, his eyes scanning the room for the other. “Oh, fuck, Stitch!” Naga exclaimed, rushing over to where Stitch was on the ground. He was currently clutching his side, blood oozing through his fingertips. “Oh, no, no, no,” Kapano muttered, quickly looking around the room for something he could use to help. There was a first aid kit on one of the walls that he scrambled towards, simultaneously pulling out his radio to call for evac as he rushed back over to Stitch.

“So,” Stitch started, a small laugh escaping his lips. “You can care about someone other than yourself.”

“Please,” Naga remarked, pulling out bandages. “We already discussed whose head it would be on a spike if I fucked up this mission.”

“Well, we did get the intel,” Stitch said, his breathing getting raspier. Naga shook his head,

“This is my fault,” his words were so quiet that Stitch could barely hear them. “Can you even breathe with that thing on?” he asked a second later, looking towards the gas mask over Stitch’s face. Without waiting for an answer, Naga moved to undo the straps holding the mask in place.

“H-hey,” Stitch tried to protest, watching as the other tossed his mask to the side before applying more pressure to the gunshot wound on his stomach. “That’s not fair,” Stitch coughed.

“Why-” Naga started to ask,

“You can see my face, but I can’t see yours?” Stitch laughed a little again, a laugh that turned into a groan from the pain in his stomach. Naga rolled his eyes, but he did decide to humour the old man and pulled the mask off his nose to under his chin.

“Happy?”

Stitch shook his head, his mind suddenly seeming detached from his body as he reached his hand up to Naga’s face, gently grabbing the side of his sunglasses, slowly pulling them off his eyes. Naga wanted to smack his hand away, but for some reason, he found himself unable to move, his breath caught in the back of his throat as Stitch gazed into his eyes.

“Now I’m happy,” Stitch muttered, a slight grin on his face as he lowered his hand, placing the sunglasses on the ground beside him, his eyes also locked on the other. “Hm,” Stitch started, interrupted by a cough that left a trail of blood under his chin. “I didn’t think your eyes were brown. They’re beautiful...”

Naga opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly he found himself at a loss for words, though he could feel the redness in his cheeks grow the longer Stitch stared at him, and he quickly averted his gaze, praying to god the evac would get here soon.

“Ah,” Stitch chuckled, having noticed the other’s reaction. “There is a way to shut you up,” he laughed again, leaning his head back to rest it on the wall behind him. Stitch closed his eyes, “That’s good to know,” he said quietly.

Before Naga had the chance to say anything as if he would have had something to say anyone, the evac team burst into the room, the medics shoving Naga off of Stitch to take over on applying pressure. They moved fast, lifting Stitch up onto a stretcher, leaving Naga standing there, suddenly feeling helpless.

“Do not let him die!” Naga heard himself yelling as Stitch was ushered away from him. “If he dies, I will personally see you all to your graves!” He could tell that he meant every word he was shouting.

He needed to see Stitch try to shut him up again…

#call of duty cold war #black ops cold war #call of duty #black ops #bocw #cod stitch #cod naga #stitch x naga

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honeygingergemini · 4 years

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Henlo! Can I request Steve 'punishing' you by giving you a nice spanking? If you don't do smut then can I get a cute first date? Thank you🙏🙏

Okay hi :)))))) i didn’t expect to get a request at all so i was super excited and nervous. I hope you enjoy it! I’m sorry it took so long I was trying to figure out what you’d be punish for and little things like that. Steve is kinda dark and monotoned with minimal lines in this but that’s how imagine him giving a punishment. it’s my second attempt at smut so all feedback is welcomed!!! Im really bad at beginnings and endings so bare with me Also PLEASE excuse my english it’s not my first language so yeah here it is again i hope you like it. :)))

Warnings: Spanking and Mentions of sweat

Word count: 1.9k

I Didn’t Mean It.

You feel a drop of liquid leave your nose and touch your thigh. Unsure if it’s your tears or your sweat but you don’t move. Only one thing runs through your mind as you wait for Steve.

You didn’t mean it.

You had been kneeling on the floor of your shared bedroom for hours now. At first it was easy. You would count the minutes but as the uneasy feeling in your stomach started to spread to other parts of your body, and the temperature of the room created a dampness across your body, your mind was fuzzy and you could only think of Steve. Wherever he is, he must be so mad.

You hadn’t meant it. You’re usually so good. you follow his rules, before you do anything his stern face would pop up in your mind deterring you from doing something you’d regret, you're unsure why today felt different. As if your body is thinking the same thing a shudder runs through you. A determined line of sweat leaves the nape of your neck and travels the arch of your back.

Where is he?

You couldn’t take the torture. You knew this wasn’t your punishment. At least not all of it. Steve runs a tight ship, he has no tolerance for bullshit. You knew this and yet you still decided to disobey him. It hadn’t been on purpose. For whatever reason Steve had decided to change your normal routine and without question you agreed. You had almost lost yourself on the train when you realized you didn’t break one rule you had broken three. You were on your way rushing home but it was too late. You had already been caught. The phone ringing in your hand almost seemed like a death sentence. You knew better than to let him wait any longer.

“H-Hello Captain.” you stuttered awaiting his voice.

“What did I tell you?” Was all he said and you instantly felt fear.

“I’m sorry I lost track of-”

“I didn’t ask you that.” you heard slight shuffling in the background. “What did I tell you?”

“Don’t break any rules ever. There will never be an exception for making Captain mad.” You whisper in a hushed tone.

“Find your ass home. Now.” He hung up before you could even reply. You were already on the train back to your place but you couldn’t contain yourself. You started crying. Steve was a hard ass but with reason. A lot has changed in his world and he needed stability. He needed control and you were that for him. You tried so hard to stay in place, rarely ever slipping up this big. By the time you got home, the apartment was freezing. The clock read 9:15 and you already knew what to do. Though punishments with you were rare, they were extremely memorable. Imprinted so deep in your mind that whenever you wanted to step out of line you didn’t.

You follow the preset routine for punishments as if he’s right behind you. Sometimes you almost feel like he’s lurking behind the corner, watching you. He hadn’t explicitly said you would be punished, but with the tone in his voice you didn’t want to take any more chances. You make your way to your room hissing at the frigid feeling. You made sure the room was clean before removing all of your clothes and putting them away neatly. He was a stickler for tidiness.

You take your place at the foot of the king sized bed and kneel. Your knees burned from the texture of the rug beneath you. You hadn’t realized it at first, but he was controlling the temperature. The once frosty room has now resembled a sauna. You were on alert, hyper aware of everything since your phone call with Steve, and you were starting to resent yourself.

How could you be so stupid. He only gives you simple rules to follow and you can’t even do-

Your thoughts are interrupted by the familiar sound of your door alarm. He’s home. The floors begin to moan underneath his bulky body. He’s moving around the apartment but he isn’t talking. Your body is vibrating, awaiting what will happen next. The sound of your chamber door opens and Steve stalks through. He doesn’t even spare you a glance. Not that you expect him too.

He moves around the room removing his day and getting into the shower all while not acknowledging your presence at all. The shower water stops and so does your heart. He comes out of the bathroom dressed and sits in the large arm chair in the corner of the room. Your eyes are casted downward but you can feel his eyes boring into your naked body. He sits there unwavering for what seems like hours. Each minute under his scrutiny feels like an eternity.

“Stand up.” you follow his command quickly standing on shaky legs.

“Come to me.” You wobble over to Steve stopping right before him still not looking him in the eyes. You inhale sharply when you feel his finger trace the invisible passageway from your clavicle down your sternum before finally resting at your navel. Your shutter as he circles it.

“Look at me.” For the first time tonight you look at Steve’s face and your heart drops. Disappointment.

You want to speak so badly. Plead your case but you know that will only anger him farther. So you search his eyes hoping to show how remorseful you feel for letting him down. You hoped your eyes delivered the message your words could not.

I didn’t mean it.

“On the bed.” His clipped words increase your heart rate. As you make your way over to the bed he follows you. “Kneel.” You kneel on the edge of the bed and await him. Cool metal comes in contact with your wrist causing you to turn your head. A swift pop is given to the side of your face leaves you trembling.

“Eyes forward.” Not wanting to add to your existing punishment you follow instructions. The light clicks of handcuffs follow his words and your heart drops.

“I’m very surprised at your behavior today doll.” he rubs down your liquid covered arms. “You’re usually so good to me.”

I am good for you. I’m so sorry.

“Bend over baby.” You shutter. His kind words service to deceive you of what is actually to come. Your position is compromising, your hands are locked behind your back. Your face is to the plush mattress and your bum is high and mighty.

“Thirty hits. No noise. If I hear a peep out of you, I’m starting over. Okay?” You nod with understanding. Steve pulls the large leather covered paddle from the drawer. Small round metal studs cover the paddle specially made for pain. He waves the paddle around rotating his wrist to adjust his body to the extending member. “Ready?”

I’m so sorry.

The first round of hits take a lot out of you. You know he wasn’t hitting you hard but . He raises the paddle high in the air and brings it down quickly leaving you winded. You press your lips together firmly willing all sounds to remain inside in your chest. You had lost track of the number of hits around 13. Your mind was in a deep concentration only remembering one thing.

I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.

“Five more…” He pokes at the raw skin of your back side. You so badly wanted to hiss at the pain but instead you bite on your tongue to distract yourself. You don’t want him to start over. “Is there anything you want to say to me.”

“I’m so sorry-” you rushed words were interrupted by the paddle running into you backside at pressure harder than the rest. That still doesn’t deter you from apologizing. “Captain, I’m sorry…” smack. “I didn’t mean too- ugh” another smack. “I’m still not used to the-” smack. That last smack took a lot after and your voice cracks as your pleas spill past your lips.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” your words were breathless.

“Shhh… baby I know, I know. You did so good” He peppers soft kisses to your back even though it’s covered in sweat.

“I’m so sorry Captain, I didn’t mean to.”

“I know, I know.” He reassures you understanding your dazed state “Let's get you in a bath, okay baby?” He uncuffs you and carries you to the bathroom. The usually cold surface of the sink is surprisingly warm serving as aid to your tender skin. You watch as Steve silently moves around the bathroom preparing you a warm bath. He’s like this after any session between the both of you, but he’s especially sweet after a punishment. You weren’t sure when Steve made his way over to the sink’s counter, but you weren’t complaining. His callused hands lightly trace your skin as his lips press soft but firm kisses into your face.

“How do you feel?” He always asked. Always. You think about your answer unsure if you can answer honestly. “Answer as you feel.”

“I…” take a deep breath. “I forgot about the change, that’s no excuse, but that’s what happened. I’m sorry I didn’t check in with you, I’m sorry I wasn’t here to greet you when you came home.”

“But how do you feel?” he brushes your soft curls away from your forehead. His lips meet your forehead and you sigh.

“Sore and guilty.” As you’re speaking he’s lowering the both of you into a warm water. Your muscles release the tension they’ve been holding on to and you allow yourself to melt into the body surrounding you. Your arms wrap loosely around his torso as he slowly rubs your tender bottom. Soon your legs follow suit and mimic your arms. Soft kisses on your body soon morphe into desperate mouth kisses. Your lower body moves at its own accord grinding on top of Steve's cock and a moan passed through you to him.

“Please Sir.” you sigh hoping your punishment is over. it is. Steve aligns himself with you and pushes into you slowly. He’s mindful of your current state, giving light open mouth kisses to your body and you feel hot. His hips roll into your velvet opening as you cry out.

“mmhhmmm” You moan wishing the profanity running through you mind could be said instead.

“Let go whenever you want to angel, you earned it.” With that he leans back and allows you to work for your reward. Your body jerks giving hints to your upcoming orgasm. His finger plays with your special button that leaves you seeing white. A soft sob leaves your lips and your body turns to mush against his broad chest.

Steve takes a hold of you, pistoning his hips upward. Water spills over the rim of the tub, but Steve doesn’t seem to care. His only concern is chasing his nut. His hips falter as his orgasm over takes him and he’s a sight to see. His golden hair is damp with mist. His head was tilted up to the heavens. His eyes were shut softly with his lashes fanning his cheeks almost as if he were sleeping. His mouth forms a perfect ‘O’ as he shoots his load into you. The hands on your waist hold you tight making sure you feel him deep. And you did. You feel him deep and love him deeper.

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geeky-politics-46 · 3 years

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I Thought You Didn't Like To Talk?

Loki/The West Wing FanFiction Crossover

Chapter 1 - "Loki Gets Put In Time Out"

Once again Mobius found himself walking the halls of the TVA with an incessant chattering behind him, like a yappy little puppy. Oh how he missed the days when Loki pretended he didn’t like to talk. Now he was luckily if he could get him to shut up for longer than 2 minutes at a time.

One of Loki’s favorite things to talk about was of course himself, & all of his fun tricks & exciting things he’d done. Well he found them fun & exciting. The people on the receiving end of them probably felt differently.

Loki was the king of the spin though. He could take any of his exploits, no matter how much betrayal & back stabbing it involved (& sometimes it did involve literal back stabbing), & somehow tell a version where he came out as the hero or at the very least an innocent bystander.

That was the part that most drove Mobius up a wall. He was constantly reminding Loki that spinning or embellishing stories relating to their cases could create real & dangerous problems. At the very least it could create a whole mess of paperwork & interoffice annoyance for Mobius to clean up.

“Are you mad? You seem a little mad? But you’re not mad at me right? Clearly my words were just misinterpreted by that pack of imbeciles, it was an ambush .” Loki offered in an attempt to diffuse the tension between Mobius & himself. Without a hint of hesitation he followed the TVA agent into one of the time theaters.

Mobius dropped the files he had been carrying on the small round table in the middle of the room & pulled a TemPad from his jacket pocket. He had finally decided a fitting way of dealing with Loki’s lose understanding of telling the truth & reluctance to play nice with others when speaking. He had created a little “time out” spot, where Loki’s bravado could be knocked down a peg or two.

Well, Mobius didn’t really create it himself per say. He had remembered a particular Earth television program that may just have the perfect spot. That part of working at the TVA was particularly fun. Snooping though lots of popular TV programs from throughout the universe; past, present, & future. However this particular show offered a special opportunity where Loki could talk & spin as much as he wanted, not knowing the push back he would be hit with. He was about to play deputy press secretary to one of the most important men on the planet Earth. For now though that part would stay Mobius’ little secret.

“Loki do you remember what I told you would happen next time I caught you lying or ‘embellishing’ as you like to call it?”

A puzzled look appeared on the god’s face, “something about getting a taste of my own medicine, but in all honesty after that I really stopped listening”.

A mischievous smirk now adorned Mobius’ face. This was gonna be so fun to watch. He pressed one last button on the TemPad while keeping his eyes locked on Loki’s. Suddenly an orange portal door appeared out of no where. Slowly Mobius moved to Loki’s side so he could face the time door as well.

A large smile suddenly appeared on his face, & without warning he pushed Loki forward & into the portal. Looking back at Mobius Loki saw him waving & fighting back laughter. Just as the time door began to transport to a different place & maybe even a different time Loki heard Mobius yell to him, “Well I hope you enjoy your time out!”:

The door quickly compressed down & disappeared. Mobius would go get him in a few hours, after he learned a little lesson about why it’s important to think before you speak.

Once he arrived back at his desk he was a bit concerned that he found himself actually excited to get some work done. He clicked on a little screen to left corner of his desk so he could keep an eye on Loki, & settled in to his paperwork. Exhaling into the peace & quiet.

————————————

As the orange time door faded Loki found himself surrounded by darkness. He had no idea where he was, or even when he was, or what could be lurking in the dark waiting for him. Surely Mobius wouldn’t send him somewhere truly dangerous. Right?

Loki put his hands out in front of him, feeling around for any clue as to where he might be. He slowly noticed noises coming from behind him & began turning in place to find it’s source. It sounded like… people. As he had finally honed in on the spot the sound was coming from, a bright white light suddenly flooded the room & all he could her was a woman’s scream. He grabbed the closest thing to him to aid in his defense.

His eyes began to adjust to the sudden influx of light & he began to realize where he was. This was a broom closet. He was standing in a broom closet; & to top it off the ‘weapon’ he grabbed was actually a mop. He was frozen to the spot, like a deer in headlights. Eyes wide & mouth agape. Half in shock, half in embarrassment.

He now stood face to face with the woman who had been screaming. She was lanky with porcelain skin & straight blonde hair, dressed in a light grey pant suit. She had one hand grasping the doorknob to the closet & the other clasped over her mouth. She & Loki just stood there, staring at each other. Both were too stunned to speak. Neither of them moved until a man began to walk through behind the woman. His head down & hands full of papers. His brown hair slightly disheveled & the sleeves of his white button down shirt rolled up to his elbows.

"Hey Donna, can you…. Oh hey, looks like you found him.” The man had now stopped in place & grinned widely, glancing back & forth between them. Without moving or even turning his head he tilted his chin up slightly & bellowed at the top of his lungs “C.J., DONNA FOUND HIM!”

Now that the silence had been broken, Loki hastily dropped the mop that he suddenly realized he was still holding. Quickly extending a hand & offering a tight smirk to the still slightly shaken blonde woman. “Ah, so you must be Donna. I’m Loki Laufeyson.” He said, using the name the man behind her had used. Hoping it would conceal that he still had absolutely no idea what was happening. “Um, yeah, hello”, she said softly & a little tentatively back to him, offering him the hand that no longer covered her mouth. A slight smile crossing her slowly relaxing face. “I’m his assistant”, she offered while quickly tilting her head back toward the slightly rumpled energetic man behind her.

Donna quickly stepped to the side & let Loki step out of the closet. As he straightened his shirt & tie, Loki realized the man that had been standing behind Donna was now talking directly to him & had begun walking away, gesturing & clearly expecting Loki to follow him. “Hey. I’m Josh. Josh Lyman. Deputy chief of staff. So you’re the new guy huh? I’m guessing you must have gotten turned around trying to find C.J.’s office. She had us all out looking for ya. The bullpen isn’t that big, but I’m convinced they come in here at night & move things around when we aren’t here just to mess with us. Alright here we are, the office of the one & only Miss. Claudia Jean Cregg. Press secretary extraordinaire!”

Josh, apparently that was his name, had stopped walking & had gone silent. Loki assumed surely to catch his breath from saying so much in the short walk there. He gestured to the open door before them both. With that Josh swatted Loki on the back of the shoulder with the papers he still had in his hard, only now they were rolled up. Before Loki could thank him, Josh quickly spun on his heels & started walking the other direction, & once again began shouting down the hall.

Loki still didn’t know where in the world he was, but at least now he had a few names to work with. Josh Lyman, his assistant Donna, & C.J. Cregg.

Behind the dark stained heavy wooden desk in the center of the room sat a tall confident woman with shoulder length light brown hair with soft blonde highlights in a white button down shirt & navy blazer. Her narrow glasses perched on the end of her nose She briefly lifted he eyes from the legal pad she was writing on, peering over her glasses to the dumbstruck man in her doorway. “Sit” she said bluntly, lifting her pen & using it to point to the chair opposite her desk. “& close the door behind you”.

Her eyes & pen had now returned to the pad in front of her. Loki opened his mouth to speak, but before he could even get a sound out she lifted her hand & gestured for him to wait one minute. Loki did as he was told. He’d been here maybe 15 minutes & he had already discovered he was no longer the top of the totem pole. He noticed a goldfish swimming around in a bowl on the corner of C.J.’s desk & studied it for a moment. Even the fish looked like it knew more than he did.

“&… done.” C. J. announced & added the last punctuation mark to her work with extra emphasis. She placed her pen down on top of the legal pad before interlocking her fingers & letting her hands come to rest on her desk. She lifted her head up took off her glasses & looked at Loki. Her facial features had now shifted into a friendly well practiced smile.

“Glad you finally found me, & clearly from the sounds of it you already met Josh & Donna. You’ll be seeing a lot of them. Normally getting lost in a broom closet isn’t the best way to start your first day on a new job, but you certainly made an impression. Now let’s talk about what the duties of your job as White House deputy press secretary will be.”

Loki’s eyes widened & his mouth dropped open slightly, imitating the movements of C.J.’s goldfish. As he thought to himself, oh crap.

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chierafied · 5 years

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Honouring Tradition

Happy holidays to everyone, enjoy this little bit of Christmas Fluff! 😊💙

This is also an independent sequel to my older one shot One Step Closer.

Also posted on AO3, Dokuga and FFnet!

The courtship had gone on for a little over a year.

It had begun on the night of Rin and Kohaku’s wedding, when the miko had been feeling bittersweet and, infuriated by her self-deprecating attitude, Sesshoumaru had proceeded to cross over the line on which he had been teetering for quite a while.

And since then he had not looked back.

While a snowstorm had raged outside during the winter solstice, Sesshoumaru had sat together with Kagome in her hut, sipping warm sake in the comfort and flickering light of the paper lanterns.

He had been present in Edo for the spring festival and stood by, amused by the irony of it all as Kagome helped the old miko ward off evil. Thankfully, she had refrained from throwing any soybeans at him, though she had met his eye during the ritual and a smile had tugged at the corner of her lips.

When the cherry trees had been in bloom, they had gone out together with Kohaku and Rin to enjoy a meal outside, under the gently falling pink petals.

In the stifling heat of the summer, he had helped Kagome light one of the floating lanterns which the humans set out along the rivers and lakes to guide the spirits home on the day they honoured their ancestors.

In the cool of the autumn, when the leaves were just beginning to turn into a riot of colours, he had taken Kagome out on a boat along the river, to properly view the full harvest moon.

And while Sesshoumaru had been enjoying all of that, the time had come for it to end.

It no longer was enough.

He did not wish to keep paying frequent visits to Edo. Instead, he wanted Kagome to be with him every hour of every day – and night.

And therefore, the time had come to pose the miko the question; to finally make her his. Forever.

The unfortunate crux of the matter was that Sesshoumaru knew very little of human customs and even less of those Kagome would be most familiar with.

And he did wish to honour the traditions she was used to because he knew too well the longing the miko carried for the home she had left behind.

He had vowed to himself once he’d made his intentions clear that he would do all he could to make everything right by the miko.

After all, their courtship had begun with the miko explaining to him some of the customs she feared she would never get to experience if she were to get married in the feudal era.

That was why Sesshoumaru was currently in need of advice… and there was only one person he could ask it from.

But for Kagome, he would do anything.

Even ask for help from the halfbreed.

Inuyasha scowled at his older brother, his triangle ears twitching.

He must’ve heard that wrong, because there was no way in hell the bastard would ever come to him for anything.

But no, there he still was, standing in front of him and regarding him silently.

Inuyasha crossed his arms and scowled a bit more.

He’d love nothing better than to tell him to go screw himself…

Except that it was obvious that the icy prick’s motivations revolved around Kagome.

And… There was a part of him, a very small and stupid part, that felt happy that Sesshoumaru had come to ask for his help.

Small pieces of him, the lingering remnants of the lonely hanyou child he had once been, longing for acceptance more than anything.

So, grudgingly, Inuyasha opened his mouth.

“I don’t know much. But I saw this thing on the television once – well never mind,” he cut off, knowing the bastard would have little patience for hearing about all these modern concepts and devices he was clueless about. “Anyway, I’m pretty sure that when the humans in Kagome’s time propose marriage, they offer the girl a ring.”

“A ring?” Sesshoumaru repeated. “What kind of a ring?”

“I don’t know, a ring,” Inuyasha said, impatient. “Gold, I think. With a stone on it. Don’t know why that’d be so great to have.”

“A ring can certainly be arranged,” Sesshoumaru said.

Inuyasha squinted.

He almost sounded happy.

Man, that was creepy.

“Also when they’re doing the asking, they kneel before the girl,” Inuyasha added, a gleeful smirk lurking in the corner of his lips.

Because really, much as Sesshoumaru seemed to care about Kagome – which was really too weird to even consider – Inuyasha simply couldn’t see his over-proud brother to submit in front of anyone.

Ha!

“Don’t know much more about the whole getting married business.” Inuyasha shrugged.

He could’ve stopped it at that. He’d done his part, helped his half-brother out.

But then, this wasn’t really about helping Sesshoumaru at all. In the end, this was all for Kagome, and Kagome deserved the best.

Better, certainly, than his bastard of an older brother, but if he was whom Kagome had chosen, so be it.

And that’s why Inuyasha cleared his throat.

“If you really want to know about customs from Kagome’s time, there’s this thing called Christmas.”

Sesshoumaru frowned. Sounded out the word.

“Christmas?”

Inuyasha nodded curtly. “It’s a celebration they have. Sometime in late December. It’s supposed to be very romantic.”

“How does one celebrate this… Christmas?” Sesshoumaru asked.

“You celebrate together with your partner. You eat together. You have cake. You give each other gifts. If you want to propose to Kagome like humans in her time do, you should do it on Christmas. I think she’d like it.”

“I think you are correct in that presumption,” Sesshoumaru said.

Inuyasha gaped at him, shocked. The great bastard, telling him that he, the hanyou, was right?

Surely any second now the world would come to an end.

But the world went on and Sesshoumaru asked: “What is a ‘cake’?”

“It’s a sweet. Baked,” Inuyasha said. “Kind of like bread. The kind the foreigners make.”

“Foreigners such as the ones making their trade out in the west?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“All right. You have given me much to think about. Thank you.”

“Keh!” Inuyasha huffed, flustered. “It’s not for you I’m doing this – it’s for Kagome!”

His brother inclined his head. “This Sesshoumaru is aware. You are a good friend to her.”

That admission both caught Inuyasha off-guard and lifted his heart.

Maybe his brother wasn’t a complete bastard after all, and Kagome really did deserve the best.

So as Sesshoumaru started walking away, Inuyasha called out after him.

“If I can remember anything else I’ll let you know,” he said, voice gruff.

Sesshoumaru nodded, and left.

A subtle flare of youki at a distance had Kagome sit up straighter. A smile bloomed on her lips, a wave of relief stirred in her chest.

She got to her feet and crossed to the door of her hut.

Over the past year, Sesshoumaru had been visiting her in Edo frequently.

They had spent much time together; sometimes conversing for hours on end, sometimes sitting in comfortable silence, on a few occasions even laughing together. They had stolen glances at one another, exchanged fleeting touches here and there.

The last time he’d visited, Kagome had gathered her courage and gone for a kiss, which Sesshoumaru had eagerly and thoroughly reciprocated.

That had been several weeks ago, and he hadn’t come to see her since.

Kagome had started to worry – first that something had happened to Sesshoumaru, then that she’d scared him off or misinterpreted those lingering glances and brushes from his fingers.

But now, he had returned.

Kagome leaned against the doorjamb, pulling the quilted haori she wore over her kosode tighter around her for warmth, as she watched Sesshoumaru walk across the village to her.

He stopped before her, and, before she had a chance to greet him, had tilted her head back with a claw-tipped finger and claimed her lips in a searing kiss.

Kagome’s stomach performed several spirited somersaults and she smiled against his insistent lips, her heart beating a giddy rhythm in her chest.

“Hi,” she whispered, her voice hoarse when he finally pulled back.

“Hello,” he greeted, allowing his finger to trail down her cheek before he backed away a step.

“Come in,” Kagome said, making room in the doorway.

“No,” Sesshoumaru said, holding out his hand. “We have another destination today.”

Curious, Kagome slipped on her straw sandals and nimbly tied them on before taking Sesshoumaru’s hand.

He led her to the edge of the village – but when Kagome expected him to walk past the last hut at the edge of Inuyasha’s forest, he instead turned towards the doorway.

“We’re going to visit Rin and Kohaku?” Kagome asked.

Sesshoumaru squeezed her hand. “They have been kind enough to render me their aid.”

Kagome tilted her head, confused. What on Earth would Sesshoumaru need help with?

And why hadn’t he come to her for it?

Frowning, she ducked through the doorway after Sesshoumaru – and stopped to stare at the sight that met her eyes in the light of the merrily blazing fire in the cooking hearth.

“What…?” Kagome asked, struggling to form a sentence.

She untied and kicked off her footwear and hurried into the hut. Rin and Kohaku were nowhere to be seen, but on the raised flooring at the back of the hut, a veritable feast had been laid out.

She noticed many of her favourites – and oddly enough, roasted chicken.

In the very centre, there was a curious piece. It… looked like a baked good of some sort.

Which was both baffling and bizarre, since as far as Kagome knew, there shouldn’t be any bakeries in Japan for another 300 years or so.

And yet there it sat, this baked thing.

Kagome stared at it in confusion for several more seconds, until it finally clicked.

She gasped.

Her gaze flickered from the cake to the roasted chicken and then to Sesshoumaru.

“Merry Christmas, Kagome,” he wished her carefully enunciating the foreign words.

Kagome felt perilously close to tears. She cradled her hands to her chest.

“How…? How did you know? How did you do all this?”

“I am aware of how important your customs are to you,” Sesshoumaru said, his golden eyes piercing. “Therefore, it was my wish to honour them. Celebrating Christmas was Inuyasha’s suggestion, so if there are any inaccuracies they are the hanyou’s fault.”

Kagome let out a startled laugh.

“I was also told that giving gifts was customary, so I took the liberty of preparing something for you.”

“Oh you shouldn’t have, that’s just too much, putting together all this is more than – what are you doing?! Sesshoumaru?”

Kagome clutched at her throat, her mind whirling, her gaze focused on the lacquered box Sesshoumaru was holding out to her, presumably containing her gift.

“Inuyasha told me this was customary as well,” Sesshoumaru deadpanned, from the kneeling position he’d assumed before her.

“Perhaps he was playing a prank on you,” Kagome said, shaking her head. “This isn’t how Christmas gifts are – oh. Oh.”

Sesshoumaru had opened the lacquered box and the tears were now burning in Kagome’s eyes.

Inside the box, there was a ring. A simple golden band, with a deep blue stone crafted in the shape of a crescent moon.

“I…” Kagome had to swallow past the lump in her throat. “Is this why Toutousai paid a surprise visit to the village a couple of weeks ago and seemed overly interested in my hands?”

The upwards twitch of the corner of Sesshoumaru’s lips was all the answer Kagome needed.

Then he cleared his throat and started to speak: “Much as I have enjoyed this past year with you, I have come to yearn more than what a mere courtship could offer. I am ready to make a commitment to you and therefore ardently hope that you would consent to be my mate.”

A lone tear sliding down her cheek and her lips trembling into a smile, Kagome nodded.

“Yes,” she breathed, voice hoarse with emotion.

And then, abandoning all decorum, Kagome rushed to him, fell to her knees and hugged him fiercely. She turned her head, found his lips and kissed him. He kissed her back with equal fervour, but then grabbed her shoulder to push her back.

“Before we forget ourselves, miko, there is one thing more,” he told her as he took her hand.

With care that made Kagome’s heart swell even more it already had, Sesshoumaru slid the ring onto her finger.

It fit perfectly, and Kagome could feel it give out one faint pulse.

She smiled down at it, wondering what Sesshoumaru had given to Toutousai to use in the forging of the ring; only he would think to create an engagement ring that carried a trace of his youki.

Kagome cupped Sesshoumaru’s face, the ring resting against the skin of his cheek, and gave him a new kiss. Slower, more tender, and filled with the love that was overwhelming her.

Then, she let her fingers intertwine with his and followed him to the feast he’d prepared for her.

She met his eyes and marvelled at how wonderful it was to be celebrating Christmas here in the Sengoku Era, and with the person who mattered to her the most.

Accepting the cup of tea from him and noting the glint of the ring on her finger in the firelight, Kagome was filled with more happiness than she could’ve ever wished for.

#sesskag #sesshoumaru #kagome #sesskag fic #christmas fluff #chie writes #fic: sk

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botanistbud · 3 years

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chapter 1 - the caravan

Stars flickered overhead, dim pinpricks breaching a veil of passing clouds—remnants of a dying storm. Across the countryside, people sat huddled around hearths and settled under thick layers of pelts. Winter was still months away, but north of the Ridge, a night without a source of warmth tempted the Crone's grasp.

Far away from any hearth, along the edges of a great and terrible forest known as the Roost, steam rose off of the backs of horses—two horses, two wagons, and two cloaked riders.The riders’ cloaks were not ornate by any stretch of the imagination, but the stitch-work was neat and indicative of care. Save for the sloshing of muddied hooves, the small caravan moved along the Corvus Road in silence.

By day, the road was a vein of trade that cut through the continent, connecting the frozen northern ports to the sun-kissed cities of the south. Come sundown, away from the refuge of cities and guards, the road north of Silias was forfeit to the night. No more than a few miles back, makeshift camps and fires littered the road near the walls of the city, but here, where the edge of the Roost creeped over the cobblestone, only the desperate travelled by night.

There was no conversation between the cloaked figures astride the horses; instead, their hands tightly gripped the reins as the encroaching treeline held their attention. The pair knew the road better than any honest merchant, and they were familiar with what dangers lurked along the edge of the Roost. The second rider held the reins in one hand and rested the other against the pommel of his sword. Up ahead, the first rode unarmed, and wore a kerchief that hid the bottom of their face as their eyes scanned ahead.

Perking up in their saddle, the kerchiefed rider reined their horse, bringing the caravan to a halt. Loose wares clattered against one another as the second wagon stopped in the muddy road.

“San,” called the swordsman, “what is it?”

San held a hand in the air, keeping their eyes glued to the trees.

“Listen, Leofric. The Roost is silent.”

A beat. A bated breath. The creak of leather gloves tightening around damp reins. And all at once the silence ended, fire bursting out of the treeline before slamming into the kerchiefed rider.

“San!”

The horse reared, unharmed as sigils lingered in the air around its rider, fading with the embers into the dark.

San grimaced and, wordlessly, both riders dismounted and readied themselves side by side. If they were going to fight, it needed to be away from the wagons. Leofric stepped forward, unsheathing his sword and gliding two fingers across its length. Where his fingers passed over the steel, glyphs trailed behind.

As the last glyph lit—illuminating the blade with a gentle hum—tendrils of fog began to curl out from the treeline, rolling over the road and surrounding the wagons.

Reaching their hand out, San mumbled a few words and a gust of wind pushed the fog away from the riders, revealing a pair of quick-moving footprints in the mud heading straight towards them. Leofric had only a moment to react, bracing his sword and clashing with an invisible blade. Kicking towards the point of impact, his blow landed and their assailant flickered into view.

Gritting her teeth, an elven woman teetered back, her now visible dagger at the ready. Stealing a glance at the last of the fog, her expression betrayed that she had not planned on being spotted. Nevertheless, she quickly darted away from the wagons, flitting just out of range as Leofric swung his blade down and followed after her.

"Orlo, move!" A voice boomed from the trees, the night's silence a shattered memory as a half-orc barrelled past the elven woman, drawing an axe from his back and clashing with the swordsman.

Behind him, a man in a brown coat and a blue scarf stumbled out, one hand passing over his eyes as they shifted hues. "Just once I'd like our plan to not fall apart…” he grumbled before calling out to the others, “take care of those two! There's magic coming from both wagons."

Orlo halted her retreat, looking past the half-orc to the kerchiefed rider who was beginning to move to their companion’s aid. "Durth! Where's Kyrin?"

Durth's axe knocked the swordsman's blade aside, "Ha! The shit cast one enhancement and called it a night. Don't go expecting much else from them now."

"I resent that," a voice called from the trees.

"Tough!" Durth grunted as another blow deflected off Leofric’s sword and sigils scattered like sparks.

As Orlo weaved past the swordsman to intercept the kerchiefed mage, San lifted their hands and blue light gathered in their palms. Orlo’s breath caught as a ray of frost shot towards her. Barely moving out of the way in time, Orlo felt a burning cold knock her off balance and swore as frostbite set into her shoulder. The scarfed man was making his way to the wagons and Durth was still occupied with the swordsman. Readily tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, Orlo shifted her weight and rushed forward to close the distance between her and the mage.

The elf was much quicker than San, and her blade reached their throat before they could react. Cut away by her strike, the kerchief dropped to reveal a mouth of jet-black teeth, and as San reached a hand up to their throat, blood began to swell over their fingers. Stepping back, Orlo watched as thin green veins spread across the mage’s neck.

Confused and then resigned, San looked past the elven woman to Leofric. Although their vision was beginning to blur, San could see their partner losing ground to the half-orc. Still clutching their throat, San pulled a small crystal from their cloak and began reciting a spell.

The words escaped ragged and coarse as blood trickled from the sickly wound, but the arcane listens for intent and the crystal began to pulse.

"Shit." Recognizing the spell, Orlo turned to flee. As San’s mouth closed on the last syllable, the temperature around them plummeted.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit!" As she ran towards Durth, a wave of magic radiated from the crystal, encasing San in a jagged globe of ice that began to rapidly expand.

"Orlo, go!" Cried the scarfed man who was now beside the wagon. One hand reaching into a small pouch, he raised the other and a wall of fire erupted from the ground, halting the spread of the ice. The scarfed man furrowed his brow and drew his fingers through the air, guiding the flame and separating San’s final effort from the rest of the party.

Leofric, still focused on the axe wielding half-orc, let out a cry as the fire caught him in its path. Distracted by the pain and catching a glimpse of San’s ice break apart in the heat of the flames, Leofric bellowed and swung towards the half-orc. He knew what it meant for San to have cast that spell. Unfazed, Durth side-stepped and buried his axe into Leofric’s shoulder, knocking him to the ground.

Catching his breath, Durth wiped a splash of blood from his cheek and yanked the axe out from the body, wiping its edge on his sleeve. As Orlo jogged over to the wagon, the scarfed man swiped his hand through the sigils in the air to begin dispelling the flames.

Lit by the dying embers in the moonlight, the trio caught their breaths by the wagons. The horses whinnied, stamping their hooves in the mud, and Durth busied himself with calming them from the chaos. Clutching her shoulder, blackened from the frost, Orlo called to the treeline, "Kyrin, it's done. Would you stop cowering and heal my arm?"

"We all have our strengths, Babe," shouted a tiefling as they emerged from their cover in the forest, "I just happen to know mine."

The tiefling immediately stood out, all red skin and golden eyes, with warm-silver hair braided down the length of their back. Rather than the urgency that accompanied the aftermath of battle, they moved with the saunter of someone who had spotted a friend at a tavern and was walking over to chat.

Humming to themself, Kyrin placed a hand on Orlo's shoulder—leaving a faint glow as the skin healed below. "So, tell me we didn't waste a perfectly good evening.” They paused, glancing up to the scarfed man. “Bren?"

Bren clicked his tongue, "I haven't had the chance to check, but there is something magic in these wagons.”

Bren opened the door on the swordsman’s wagon, peering in and turning back to the others with a grin. “Full of loot. Orlo, your intel was right. This will make for a happy client.” Bren glanced over the cargo: a jumble of amphorae, unlabelled potions, pelts, chests of jewelry, and some gilded weapons.

“Yes, hello, but what about us?” Chimed Kyrin, “Eilhart pays well enough, but you three didn’t risk your lives for just a handful of gold.”

“Well,” replied Bren, as he hopped down and shuffled over to the mage’s wagon, “let’s see what’s behind door number two before making any decisions.”

Gripping the wagon’s frame, Bren unlatched the door and ducked inside. The rain had soaked into the wood, leaving a musty smell in the air and the interior was void of the obvious wares scattered around the first wagon.

As Bren’s eyes adjusted to the dark, he realized the wagon wasn’t empty. Hunched in the dark, her ankles fettered and chained to the opposite wall, sat a small girl.

As Bren stood staring, the child’s eyes met his own, but she seemed to look right through him. Unseeing. Her arms were crossed over her knees, and she made no move to acknowledge Bren’s entry.

“Bren?” Kyrin poked their head in, “I’m waiting on the go-ahead to pick something nice o-oh.” Glancing down at the chains, Kyrin called out to the others: “Orlo, we need you and your sneaky hands.”

Bren chewed at the tip of his thumb, as his mind raced. Was she breathing? It was barely noticeable, but yes. Gods, she was so small. She couldn't be more than what? Ten? Why was she here?

"You called? Oh no…" Orlo manoeuvred around Kyrin and Bren and crouched in front of the girl, who sat perfectly still, eyes locked forward. As Orlo pulled out a set of tools from her pocket and began working on the girl's manacles, Kyrin sat on the lip of the wagon, and Durth peeked inside. All thoughts of loot forgotten, Bren sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Why is she here? She's just a wisp of a girl. These were supposed to be magic dealers, not slavers."

"This is bad news, Bren. Either Eilhart wasn't as informed as she let on, or we were purposely kept in the dark. Both are dangerous. We should leave."

"For once I agree with Kyrin," grumbled Durth, "I'm not delivering a child as a trinket."

"Of course. I'm not suggesting we do. I'm thinking…"

“We should leave her." Kyrin whispered, leaning back into Bren.

"Kyrin!" Bren let out an exasperated breath.

"I'm serious. Let her be someone else's problem in the morning. It's the Corvus road, there'll be plenty."

Rolling his eyes, Durth rubbed a hand over the salt and pepper stubble on his chin. "I'm back to disagreeing with Kyrin."

"Guys," Orlo interrupted, standing herself and the girl up, “this is probably why she's here."

Keeping a hand on the girl’s shoulder, Orlo gestured to her chest. It was a mess of irritation and dried blood, crusted around a magic circle that had been tattooed across her sternum, partially obscured by her tunic. The lines were precise and the craftsmanship was undeniable—but the gore and shock of its appearance on such a small frame left the group speechless.

Durth stepped away from the wagon, muttering curses into the night. Orlo began fussing with the girl's matted hair and Kyrin rolled their head up to look to their companion, knowing full well what they would see. Bren locked eyes once more with the wisp of a girl, unable to leave her behind.

#dnd #writing #draft #fantasy

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