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rhysismydaddy · 4 years ago

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Unholy Matrimony Pt. 1 (Nessian)

Nesta’s part of the Damnation Series.

OOF this took so long sorry. I rewrote it, changed it, then deleted it entirely about 9 times. I literally started writing the version before you, from scratch, on Sunday. All parts are linked below, so I’m only tagging people on this version! To go to the next chapter, there is also a link at the bottom <3

ALSO, an important caviat: Nesta is an only child in this one! I originally wrote it for her to be adopted and not know it, but it wasn’t really relevant to the story, so... idk. Just ignore that plot hole I guess.

Parts 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 -- pls like each part I’m insecure

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~Cassian~

“You’re getting married.”

The glass of bourbon halfway to my mouth pauses, because despite being known for being rash and unpredictable, even I’m surprised by the sudden change in conversation.

My eyebrows raise as I look over at Rhysand, my best friend and Capo, trying to figure out if this bastard is serious. His tone says he is, but that doesn’t make sense, because before a few seconds ago, the word “marriage” was in neither of our vocabularies.

He’s been single for as long as I have, although I’m starting to suspect he’s got a bird in the city. He’s too damn happy these days, and the other day I saw him laugh at something on his phone.

Which is weird, because we both know long-term commitments don’t really do well with our lifestyle.

We were raised to not give a shit about anything except the job. We kill without remorse, live in the shadows, and whatever other shitty euphemism you want to use. Settling down in some suburban, picket-fence prison has absolutely no appeal to Made Men.

Don’t get me wrong, most of us get married at some point. But never for love.

Some men choose a bride that’s pretty and sweet. Someone who will donate to charity and help clean up their image. Governors’ daughters, women from old-money families, and social princesses make up this category.

Some men marry to advance their station in the Family. Second sons who will never inherit the business marry daughters of Underbosses to get a nice boost to their status.

And then there’s the ones who are forced to marry by their capo--ie. me-- so they choose whatever attractive woman that’s in the Family and available. Those are always the happiest.

But regardless of the reasoning, marriage in the mafia is heartless, political, and for me, unnecessary.

I know I’ll have to pick someone eventually, but there aren’t a whole lot of desirable options at the moment. Not many of the other Underbosses have daughters that are over the age of fifteen right now, and I have no interest in doing the child-bride thing.

Plus, there’s no way I’d marry someone outside of the family. At my rank, it isn’t an option.

That leaves... a widow?

The only one I know is Ianthe, and considering I highly suspect she killed her last husband and the fact that she’s crazy, there’s no way in hell I’d legally bind myself to her for life.

So he must be joking.

I take a pull from my cigar and look over at Rhys with narrowed eyes. “Uh huh. Sure. To who, exactly?”

“Volchonok.”

The Wolf Cub.

The cigar snaps in my fingers.

“You’re fucking kidding,” I say, honestly hoping that’s the case. He’s either that or insane, and I’d hate to lock someone who’s like a brother to me in a padded room.

Rhysand’s unflinching gaze doesn’t change, but his tone morphs from that of my friend to my boss. “You will marry her, Cassian.”

“She’s a fucking Russian,” I spit, not understanding. That should be reason enough for him to be joking.

In our world, being Russian is a crime similar to stabbing the Pope.

We’ve been at war over New York with them ever since they decided to try and get a stronghold on the east coast, and I’ve killed more of them than I can fucking count. Now I’m marrying one?

“Yes, she is, and so is her father, Alexei Olov.” Aka the Bratva Boss responsible for blowing up half of St. Petersburg last year when the local police refused to buy his weapons. “You will marry her, move to New York full time, and run the city with her by your side.”

“Why? Two or three more years, and we’ll have the city anyway.” Every day the Russians get weaker, and I’ve been responsible for pushing them out of my city block by block.

So there has to be a reason we’re suddenly okay with the enemy.

Rhysand sighs. “It was his idea, not mine. Orlov has agreed to sell our coke in Moscow and Seattle instead of his usual dealer and will supply us all the weapons we need for five years. There will also be no more midnight raids, bullshit arrests on bullshit charges, or missing shipments. He’s offering you a dowry, too.”

I don’t need his money, but the old fashioned term makes me laugh.

“Yeah? And how much does he think his wolf cub is worth?”

His lips twitch. “Ten million.”

“She must be a real pain in the ass, then, if he’s going to pay me that much to take her,” I chuckle.

Not that ten million dollars is anything but pocket change for the man. Orlov may be losing the fight in New York, but the bastard is richer than sin.

Selling arms to half of the entire world will do that to a person.

“I hear she’s beautiful,” he says, trying to tempt me to not fight him.

“Then you marry her,” I shoot back, not ready to give up the argument.

“I don’t feel like it.” Fucking typical. Rhysand sighs. “You and I both know we can work this deal to our advantage, so what will make you say yes?”

He could order to me to say yes and I’d have to, but he hates enforcing that kind of authority with me.

So I think it over, make a show of lighting a new cigar. “I want Sera.”

It’s a burlesque club in New York I’ve always been a little envious of, owned by Orlov and operated by his men. I’d tried to buy it a few years back but hadn’t had enough leverage on the Russian to strongarm him into selling.

Now I do.

Rhysand--the only one who knows about my failed attempt to buy the place--nods and tells me he’ll make it happen.

“When’s all this happening, anyway?”

He looks like he might laugh. “Wedding is in a month, but she’s flying in tomorrow night.”

A quick laugh forces its way out of me. Also typical of him to give me absolutely no time to change my mind.

Well, I have a month. That’s already longer than any relationship I’ve ever had.

Sighing, I stand and shake his hand, cementing the deal before I can even lament the loss of my bachelorhood.

~Nesta~

“Chto sluchilos?”

I slide my gaze to my father, because seriously, that’s the stupidest fucking question I’ve ever heard.

What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Everything.

“Nichego,” I lie, assuring him for what feels like the tenth time as I look out the window. The plane picks up speed and lifts off, taking me towards an uncertain future, an uncertain place.

I might have told him nothing’s wrong, but inside, I’m screaming.

Three days ago, I woke up to find a marriage contract on the pillow beside me. There was a blank space where my name had been typed and a pen waiting for me to remedy that.

I still haven’t.

I’m not signing anything until I meet this... Cassian.

God, what an Italian name.

An image springs to mind, one of a slumped-over, hairy-chest beast with slicked back hair and a gold chain.

I know it’s stereotypical and hopefully incorrect, but I’ve never been to Italy and Alexei strictly forbids me watching movies that portray Italians as anything except revolting.

But looks aside, there’s one thing I don’t need to guess to know.

My future husband will be like all the other men in my life: controlling.

Men in the world I live in take what they want, don’t ask for permission, and feel like they’re entitled to anything and everything. I’ve dealt with it my entire life, so it’s more amusing than anything at this point.

I guess I’m a bit non-traditional in that sense, considering most of the women around me have no problems taking orders from their fathers or husbands. But Alexei and I figured out pretty early in life that wasn’t going to work for me.

As he frequently likes to tell me, I started telling him to fuck off when I was five.

What did he expect? All the kids I hung out with were the opposite sex and at least five years older than me, so my vocabulary and mannerisms became pretty... colorful early on.

Regardless, I’m just not looking forward to having to deal with yet another man who thinks he can control me.

“Ty vresh',” Alexei accuses, lips twitching. You’re lying.

“Konechno.” Of course.

Of course I’m upset, but I understand what’s happening. I might have found out about it three days ago, but I’ve known it was coming for far longer.

As the only child of the great Alexei Orlov, Wolf of Moscow and Pakhan of the Russian Bratva, I’ve been told my entire life that I will one day be used as a pawn to gain more power.

It would--should--piss me off, but I’ve also been told I’m to one day take my father’s place and run his company.

So by gaining more power for him, I’m also doing the same for myself.

Not that I really give a shit about that kind of thing. I started officially working for Alexei years ago, and I already have enough money saved to never have to work again.

But in the Bratva, there’s no getting out. I was put in this world by birth, and the only thing that will take me out is death.

In case it isn’t obvious, I’m not a typical business woman.

My father is an arms-dealer.

A less than legal one, if you believe the heinous lies the media spreads about him.

He sells weapons to governments, private armies, and whoever the fuck else has the money to buy.

He’s also built himself a shipping empire to haul said weapons around the globe, runs the drugs and prostitute rings in Moscow, and has enough real estate to rival most small countries.

It probably sounds like I don’t care, and that’s because I don’t.

I like what I do in the sense that I have a mind for business. I went to business school and graduated at the top of my class, and I enjoy running the clubs and hotels I have. Trained by Alexei himself, I’m ruthless in negotiations, enough so that people started calling me the Wolf Cub by the time I was twenty.

But despite being good at it, I’m not particularly fond of the aspect most people think of when they picture my career in the Bratva. I detest drugs, have never hired a prostitute, and don’t really enjoy selling arms to bad people.

The alleyway meetups, the broken bones and bullet holes, and the blown up houses are all a little tiring to me.

Sure, it sounds exciting. And for a while, it was. I used to lose myself in the chaos, used to enjoy coming home with busted knuckles. But I honestly just got tired of it.

Right now, I don’t have to deal with it as much because Alexei’s still alive. But when he dies and I officially take over the family business, I’ll have to be more involved. Even if the thought makes me want to sigh.

I pull out my laptop and look over the financial report for Sera, my newest club in New York. As predicted, everything’s running smoothly.

I turn the laptop around to show my father, grinning when he pulls out his reading glasses and leans closer.

“Starik,” I tease. Old man.

He flicks my forehead, then reads the report and nods. Then he turns to his phone, probably playing Angry Birds or some shit, and leaves me to work.

The plane ride goes by quickly, and by the time we’ve landed in Chicago, I’ve gotten ahead on my schedule for next week, slept, and changed into what I’ve chosen as the “meeting my future husband” dress.

It’s simple and sleek, the black material clinging to my curves without being obscene. It’s long enough to hide the holster on my thigh, not that I feel in any danger with four personal guards stationed near me at all times.

My heels click as I make my way down the plane stairs and across the tarmac to the waiting sedan, and once my luggage and belongings are unloaded, we head to the Italian Capo’s house.

We’re meeting here, finalizing the contract, and then Cassian and I are flying to New York.

My new home.

“Try to look happy,” Alexei tells me, his heavily accented English almost ridiculous to hear. He speaks English only when he’s in the states, and considering he hasn’t come here since I graduated B school two years ago, he’s a little out of practice.

“I’m ecstatic,” I say, intentionally using a word I know he doesn’t understand.

His eyes narrow, because it isn’t the first time I’ve used this trick, but he doesn’t call me out on it. We continue to ride in ecstatic silence, eventually pulling up in front of the Capo’s... house.

It’s almost obscene to call it that, considering it’s fucking huge. Like obnoxiously huge.

I heave a sigh, step out of the car, and take in my surroundings. The neighborhood’s quiet, likely filled with friends of the Cosa Nostra too scared to make any noise.

A butler--seriously, a butler--opens the door and welcomes us inside, and as soon as I step in, I have to repress the urge to roll my eyes.

The amount of dirty money in the air is suffocating. It drips off the vaulted ceilings, down the artwork on the walls, across the marble floors. It’s in the little details of the crystal chandeliers and the mahogany staircase.

Ridiculous.

One look at Alexei’s disgusted face says he’s thinking the same thing.

Don’t get me wrong, we’re rich. Grossly so. Alexei could have ten houses just like this, if he wanted them.

But he doesn’t. He owns property all over the world, but most of it is commercial or apartment complexes--property that makes him money, in other words. This, however, is a massive waste of capital.

The butler leads us further through the house and into an office where four men wait.

One is immediately identifiable as their lawyer, his over-priced cologne making me have to resist the urge to sneeze. The humongous man in the corner is hired muscle, if the boxy shape of the guns under his jacket is any indication.

The man behind the desk is obviously in charge, so I’m guessing he’s the Capo. Rhysand or Rhyland or something weird like that. He takes me in silently, bright eyes not seeming to miss any details.

That leaves the man leaning against the desk to be Cassian Azara.

My fiancé.

Our eyes meet, his golden gaze beautiful and wild, and I have to remember to keep my expression bored.

Because the stereotype, the horrible image I’d conjured up in my mind, couldn’t be further from the truth.

For one, he isn’t hunched-over. He stands tall, leaning a hip against his Capo’s desk with obvious confidence. But I see more than just self-assuredness in his eyes. He seems a little too rough around the edges, wild gaze almost like he’s daring someone to swing at him.

If the confidence didn’t already make him attractive, his looks sure as hell get the job done.

His hairs long and dark and curly, half of it pulled up in a rouge manner that clashes with the suit he’s filling. He has a few days’ stubble, too, like standing still long enough to shave just isn’t an option.

His shoulders are impossibly wide, narrowing down to trim hips and legs long enough to make him tower over everyone in the room.

His knuckles are tattooed and split open, and there’s a cut above his eyebrow that tells me I was correct to assume he’s a fighter by nature.

Usually, that would be a deterrent for me, but there’s something about the way he’s dressed in a dark suit jacket and crisp white shirt while also looking so untamed that has me cocking my head to study him some more.

He studies me, too, beautiful eyes taking in the long blonde hair and bright blue eyes offset by pale skin. He looks at the dress like he can see everything underneath, and I have the strangest urge to blush. Jesus, he’s toxic.

He’s attractive, is what I’m getting at.

Which is not what I had planned on, considering I’d been trying to think of a plan on how to not sleep with him, but suddenly that’s all my mind can focus on.

His lips twitch like he knows what I’m thinking, and I realize we’ve just been standing here staring at each other for a bit too long.

So I turn back to Alexei and shrug like I’ve seen what my future husband has to offer and aren’t impressed in the slightest.

I toss the marriage contract on the desk, grab the Capo’s fancy little fountain pen out of his hand, and sign my name on the blank above my name.

Cassian watches, but I ignore him entirely until the ink has dried. Then I look up at him through my lashes and wink, turn on my heel, and leave the room.

~Cassian~

I think I’m in love.

Fuck.

She hasn’t said a single goddamn word, but the way she looked at me has me feeling itchy all over, anticipation and nerves rolling through me. I feel like I feel before I fight or something exciting happens.

Like I’m primed and ready and need it to happen now.

Nesta Orlov, my bride to be, is nothing like I expected.

I was fully braced for some meek little woman, similar to most of my friends’ wives, to come in and smile and say hello.

But nope. Nesta didn’t smile; she came in like she was walking onto a battlefield.

And she didn’t smile. She looked me over, clinical blue gaze noticing too much, and left me feeling winded. God, she’s beautiful. Just looking at her made me hot.

She also didn’t say hello.

Just signed the contract and left, like this was nothing more to her than a boring business deal. I mean, that’s what it is, but... I don’t know, I expected more of a reaction.

I’ve heard from some Underbosses that their wives cried or raged when they were forced to sign, but shit if that were the case with Nesta. She honest to God looked like she didn’t care.

Alexei, on the other hand, does look a little pissed about the situation, but I couldn’t care less of the old man’s opinion. He’s signed the contract, so to me, he’s irrelevant. Regardless, he and Rhys proceed to iron out some of the details about the wedding and other shit I’m not paying attention to.

Then they shake hands, and the Russian warlord turns to leave.

He reaches the door and looks over his shoulder at me, and there’s amusement in his cold gaze as he mutters,��“Udachi.” Good luck.

As soon as he’s gone, Roman and the lawyer follow, leaving me alone with Rhys.

He slides the contract to me, and I sign my name next to hers, making this shit official.

“This should be interesting,” he comments, vague as usual.

I sigh, because I have a feeling interesting isn’t going to cover it.

_____________________________________________________

NEXT CHAPTER

Tags: @elorcan-trash @januarystears @emikadreams @sjm-things @santas-dwynwen @thebitchupstairs @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @shinya-hiiragi @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @rowaelinismyotp @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @masstrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #acosf countdown #acosf #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acosf fanfiction #a court of mist and fury

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pendulum-sonata · 4 years ago

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I've been thinking for a while about all the anti-ao3 crowd out there, not just in Tumblr, and after remembering how these crowd also have the tendency to gang up over indie creators instead of mainstream media in general I had a realization of sorts:

No, despite what they want you to believe, is not because they "should" know better or because "no one expects big corps to be inclusive", or anything of the like.

It's because they can.

Even with social media, most people know that the person behind... say, Disney's twitter account is no one with ant real say or influence of the content they produce, indie creators however, they runs their own accounts 90% of the time, they're approachable, they're happy to share ideas and trivia with fans.

And poor them if they happen to create something that pisses off the anti crowd because they will resort to all types of dirty tactics to "cancel" them.

(Obviously there have been attempts to cancel mainstream media and creators but because the ppl behind it have resources and backing, most of the time they end up being ignored or even ridiculized.)

People can say whatever they want about ffnet banning NC-17 fics, of wattpad policies or whatever etc etc, but the truth no one behind those pages actively searches and moderates such contents, it's super easy to find the exact same type of "problematic" content in those sites as it is in Ao3, while ironically being harder to filter. The owners of these pages are corporations who all make money from it, they have ads and sell your usrdata, they'll delete your work if it doesn't follow guidelines, many times without notice, and more than likely will delete the entire pages when it stops making them money. The owners of the site won't care about you as an user complaining about the content, to them you are an invisible piece of data and antis can't force them to do anything.

Ao3 is made by fans for fans, they completely depend on donations to keep running, much like indie creators, so my guess is that in the minds of the anti crowd this means that they're "approachable", it means they are vulnerable, they can be bullied and intimidated.

There might be a small number of people who are actually concerned or misguided and genuinely think that the problematic content hurts people.

But most of them don't care, they never have, it's always about control and intimidation of certain spaces to their image or liking.

And because they're all cowards, they go after what they consider "easy prey".

Anyway, this got longer than I intended, but I'll finish this by reminding you all that this blog 100% support Ao3.

#rose talks #rants #ao3 #archive of our own

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mageofseven · 4 years ago

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hi!!! i just requested this on another blog too but i am FIRED UP rn abt the angel event, and i was wondering if you could do hcs for the brothers with an mc who is SUPER pissed off abt the bangles and stuff (bc its just wrong on SO many levels), especially bc they have religious trauma of their own (its the internalized lgbt-phobia for me 😎) AKRHWJRJE thank u

Yeah...this became a rant that I had no idea I was holding within myself. I've put it all under a Read More thing for those who haven't seen or finished the event for whatever reason. The actual content asked for is below this rant so feel free to skip over it for the real reason y'all are reading this 😅

Okay, people seem to be very...negatively passionate about this event. Don't get me wrong; I understand and agree with why everyone is upset. Playing with the brother's trauma (well, most of the brother's trauma since Satan wasn't alive at the time and Asmo seemed pretty chill with the whole angelic thing) for sake of an event? That's fucked up.

On a story level, I was at first mad at Diavolo. I mean, surely, surely that man knows what horrible stuff Lucifer and his brothers went through or at least part of it, because the ending of it all is what brought the brothers to him! And maybe he thought the costume change was okay since Asmo requested it? But even so, the consent of one brother does not equal the consent of all brothers to dress up like their past selves!

Then bangles. Simeon knew what they did and still gave them to the brothers. Okay, upsetting, but Michael told him to give them to the brothers and maybe he can't refuse an archangel? I dunno but fuck you, Michael.

I'll admit though, those bangles helped the brother do good things and get past their gnawing insecurities (Mammon selling his stuff and donating the money to charity, Asmo know longer stressing over looking perfect and finding peace with his looks and ultimately, learning to truly love himself in a way he never did before), but such things happened for the wrong reasons. I want those good changes for our boys, but I don't want it forced on them like it has been in this event. I want them to reflect, see that a changes is need, and choose to work in themselves and self-heal.

This event was just a lot of me smiling uncomfortably and screaming in my head "what's happening to my sinny boys??". It honestly broke my heart when Luce said he didn't have any fond memories of his time as an angel and I was so worried about all of the bad memories that must be flooding his mind because of this, especially his since his brother, though began with anxiety in the beginning, fell into what's practically mind control quite easily, and only Luce was left fighting it's affects.

Some parts of the event were cute, I won't deny that, but it wasn't them. We didn't truly have our boys during this event and instead had to watch them revert to state they likely never wanted to and it hurt to watch...

Okay, I started this rant trying to make a point that I thought the rest of the fandom felt too strongly about this event and now I'm like...ouch, I had a lot more feelings in me about it than I originally thought. So ya, I understand now. Imma just hide in the corner and hug my Luci...

Lucifer:

Truly surprised to see MC so worked up

And lowkey touched that they care so much about both his and his brothers' wellbeing to the point where they'd get so mad on their behalf.

However, he cannot allow for them to speak to Lord Diavolo in such a manner.

Pulls them to the side and tells them enough is enough, consequently bringing their harsh comments towards Simeon to halt as well.

Getting worked up is not going to fix anything and he tells them this.

Mammon:

Whoa, whoa, hold up! Enough!

No need to get that mad, human, honest!

Yeah, this isn't gonna be easy for them, but he doesn't need MC digging their own hole in this situation.

Immediately works on comforting them, saying things like he and his brothers will get out of this in no time so they don't have to worry.

Essentially lies to them and feels extra guilty about it thanks to the bangles, but no stupid bracelet is gonna make him admit that and hurt his human worse!

Overall, MC's outburst forces him to focus on them and not his own current issues.

Leviathan:

Another brother so worried about them that he has to shelve his own worries to comfort them

...or at least, he tries to.

Basically agrees with everything Mammon says (the bangles make that a hell of a lot easier for him to do) and anxiously fidgets in place.

He has enough to worry about and now his Henry is acting like this? Things just keep getting worse.

Satan:

Sighs

"MC, now is not time for this."

You know when the Avatar of Wrath says you shouldn't be giving into angry right now that you really shouldn't be.

Appreciates that the human is so worried about them, but really doesn't need their yelling on top of the current issue.

Whether this is his own logic talking or the calming effect of the bangles, the man cannot discern.

Regardless, this situation is more of an inconvenience to him than anything else.

He never was an angel nor went through the trauma his brothers have. At best, he just has a small, vague patchwork of Lucifer's memories of that time.

He becomes increasingly unsettled as time in this form goes by, but doesn't struggle in the same way his brothers do.

Asmodeus:

"Oh stop, it'll be fine!"

The only brother to try to remain positive in the situation.

I mean, at least his outfit is cute, right?

The bangles do raise up a kind of anxiety that he doesn't want to deal with, but if he just smiles and pretends things are fine, maybe all of his issues will go away?

Doesn't like MC getting so angry because it reminds him that this is indeed a problem and he doesn't want that.

Beelzebub:

Sad baby boy.

More worried about MC than he is about himself tbh.

Please don't be mad, MC, it'll get fixed somehow 🥺

Despite being one of the afflicted, feels like he needs to watch over the human during this time.

Belphegor:

Ugh, stop.

Yeah, he's pissed too, but enough yelling about it.

Agrees with everything they spew out at the demon lord and angel.

Devil, just fix this, someone.

He doesn't want to be forced to be like his prior self, as if the loss of his sister never happened because it did happened.

Fuck Diavolo for always doing whatever the hell he wants. Fuck Michael for still wanting to control them even now. Fuck everything that's going on right now.

#obey me #obey me otome #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me mc #obey me gn!mc

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awkwardxstars · 3 years ago

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So. It’s...that kind of month. Again. Where, after all my bills have been paid, I’ll have nothing left in my bank account. ...Again. I’m trying my hardest to bring in money somehow (without a job, though, it’s difficult) and I’m going through what I have at home to see if there’s anything I can sell.

I did that Go Fund Me page two months ago (which helped immensely that month, no thanks will ever be enough for the people who so kindly donated, or even just spread the word), but I’d rather...not go that route again, only because being given money without doing anything in return doesn’t sit right with me.

There’s not much I actually can do in return for it, though, but after thinking about it for a while, I thought...well, what about icons? I’m not very good at Photoshop-ing, so I won’t be able to make anything fancy, but I’m stubborn and resourceful and know where to get good quality screenshots and I do make my own icons myself, so--

Commission me!

...or something like that. ;u;

50 icons - 5$

100 icons - 9$

Or, um, something like that. I’m not too set on prices, though, so whatever you feel is fair is more than good enough for me.

As for how to request something, just message me and let me know how many icons you want and, if possible, what types of expressions I should focus on for the requested character (smiling, angry, sad, hurt, blushing, etc.). This is just to make sure that you’re happy with the end result, is all. <3

Also make sure to include the name of the character and what series they’re from. I tend to focus on anime, manga, cartoons, and webtoons, but I’d be willing to give regular movies and tv-series a shot too, if that’s what you’re looking for.

If you want more than 100 icons, let me know when you message me, and I’m sure we can work something out.

When you’ve received your icons and you feel satisfied with them, you’re welcome to send any payment to my Paypal. My email is [email protected]

Thank you so much for reading this and, if possible, please reblog this post to spread the word. Thank you again. <3

#ooc #dont judge my email adress it's almost 20 years old okay ahah #...and now i'll crawl back to bed to keep on fighting this cold I caught ;u;

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nicetomeetniall · 4 years ago

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Several times I missed you-HS

Masterlist

Summary:

Harry is not doing so well with the breakup.

Word Count: 1,941

Warnings: A little bit sad.

I missed you when we began to drift before it was over. You had always kept me up too late, rambling on about things I only cared about since they involved you. We always climed into bed and stayed up for maybe an hour longer, you talking and me listening. Our eyes would be closed and the lights off. Anyone would have thought we were fast asleep unless they heard you talking. Sometimes the stories were about coworkers or whatever book you were currently reading. You talked about the characters as if they were real and you knew them. I never realized how much I loved that. Other times it was less interesting topics like reality tv. I’d tune in out just enough to feel myself drift to sleep and then you’d pull me back in.

“Harry, are you listening to me?” You’d ask and turn around as best as you could given my arms around your stomach and your back to my chest.

“Yes, baby. You’re talking about Love Island.” I would usually respond and nestle my chin further into your shoulder after I placed a few kisses against it.

The night we stopped having these talks, I missed it. It was sudden. There was no gradual shortening of the conversations. One night we had them and the next we didn’t. Instead, you were silent after we exchanged our goodnights. We were so distant and I hadn’t even noticed until our bed conversations seemed more intimate than anything else we did.

I missed you again when I went home to my mothers after the breakup. You had urged me to be the one who stayed at our apartment until other living arrangements were made. You offered to be the one to leave and stay with a friend but I refused. It didn’t feel right. It seemed like it was now more your space than mine, anyway. I was away so much. You were the one who held it down and called when something broke. It was yours. Just hours after we had cried in eachothers arms, not wanting to seperate but knowing it was best I was on my mom’s porch. I had a backpack filled with just a few days worth of clothes because I hoped that was all I would need. There was hope that we’d figure out a way to make it work and we’d be back to normal. I cried most of the drive to my moms and I shouted just a little bit of it. I was so stupid. For the past few years it was you who stood next to my side as we waited for my mom to answer the door. It always took her forever and we’d laugh about it. She always hugged and kissed you first. I always pretended to be offended when she greeted you before me. I missed that more than ever when she opened the door and her face dropped. She only had me to greet this time. She didn’t have to ask questions to know that we had ended. I wished she would have. Maybe we wouldn’t seem so far away if she asked me about what you were doing at work or how your parents were.

And then the inevitable came too quickly. You called me just four days after everything went down. Unlike the last time we spoke, your words weren't in between sobs. I hoped that you were telling me to come back home. You weren’t.

“I’ve got most of my things out.” You said, not even saying ‘hello’ first. “The furniture is all still there.”

“No, it’s yours. It’s all yours. I’m not coming back there.” I said as I quickly sat down on the couch. My legs went weak and my heartbeat quickened.

“Some of your things are here, ba-Harry. You should come get them. Some of them are important.”

I wanted to fight it and tell you it didn’t matter. You could donate anything. Sell it. I didn’t care. None of it was important.

“I’ll come by tomorrow. Will you be there?” I asked.

“Yeah, I should be.”

The following morning I made the drive to where we based our lives. The front door was unlocked, letting me know you were right inside. I hated when you left the door unlocked. You had a habit of doing it. I was always getting out of bed to make sure it was locked and although it was sometimes annoying; it wasn’t as bad as turning over in bed and not seeing you there.

As soon as I opened the door I saw you. Your head turned so you could meet my eyes. I wasn’t looking at first. Instead I saw how you were sitting in the middle of the living room floor. Our photo albums were in front of you and there was a stack of photos at your side.

“Just pictures of my family and stuff.” You said and quickly stood up. “I’m not messing with...ours.”

You had changed so much already. It was your presence. You looked the same, talked the same, but you didn’t act the same. I wondered if I had already changed, too.

You were much more cautious as you walked over towards me. I expected you to walk past me and towards the hallway so you could give me space. I didn’t expect your arms around me and your face to my chest. I could barely hug you back before you pulled away, keeping your hands on my arms.

“Are you okay?” You asked, your eyebrows furrowed and your lips turned down.

i wasn’t sure of the right thing to say. Saying yes could make you think I was unbothered and saying no could make you feel bad. When my mouth opened but no words came out, you understood.

“It’s okay, we don’t have to say anything.” You gave me a faint smile before you let go of my arms, making them feel heavy.

We spent a few hours in the apartment moving past each other as we gathered our things. You had already gotten most of your things, but there were pictures on the walls, kitchen things, and bathroom supplies you had purchased that still needed rounded up. I barely got anything done at all.

In all those hours I had boxed only two boxes of clothes. I wasn’t sure where the time had gone. I was paying attention to the music playing from your phone and the sounds of you walking around the space. As I was folding up a shirt, you came into the room.

“Everything of mine is good to go.” You said, looking down as you leaned against the doorframe. “I left the rest of the photos. I wasn’t sure what we should do with them.”

“You don’t want any?” I asked, not meaning to sound as harsh as I did. “I mean, not even from our trips? Memories, you know?”

You pursed your lips to the side and I could tell you felt bad.

“Well, I have them all on my phone and backed up.” You said, finally looking up to meet my eyes. Things were silent for a few moments before I spoke again.

“It’s okay, you’re okay. I’ll do something with them.” I assured with a nod to try to convince myself that I was okay.

YOu stood in the doorway for too long. It was awkward and painful, but I didn’t mind too much. At least you were still around.

“It’s not our fault. You know that, right?” You asked, taking my attention from the t-shirt in my hands I had folded several times.

I thought it was our fault. How could we let something as special as this end?

“I don’t know.” I said, finally tossing the shirt into the box in front of my feet, not caring that it came unfolded. “It’s four years that have just been thrown away.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and opened your mouth as if to argue what I said, but then your face softened.

“I think you’re too important to just throw away, Harry. I won’t be throwing us away. Keep in touch, would you?”

I missed us.

People always talked about how it could be hard to get to sleep on your own after being with someone. I never believed it until a week after I last spoke to you. At first it was easy to sleep. I could nap for a few hours and forget about what you may be doing. It was an easy way to escape. After a while, I was up until the morning came. I tried keeping the TV and the fan on. None of it worked.

There was nothing that could replace the feeling the blankets being pulled from around me or your leg against mine. I tried to turn the TV on as high as I could without bothering my new roommate in an effort to replace what should be the sound of your breathing.

I didn’t get much sleep.

Once things had begun to really sink in, I tried to make you out to be a bad person. It would be easier if I could be angry. If I could pick out my least favorite things about us and magnify them, maybe I could find peace. I really tried.

I thought back to all the times I was picking your shoes up from in front of the doorway. You were always taking your shoes off as soon as you opened the front door. I remembered how frustrating it was when you forgot to turn the bathroom light off in the middle of the night.

Those things weren’t huge deals at all. Is stepping over a pair of shoes in the morning that big of a deal? No. I didn’t care most days.

Neither of us did any wrong.

After several of my friends suggested going out, I did. She was a former coworker and we went out for lunch. It felt wrong. The entire time she was talking I had to remind myself to think of her in ways other than strictly friendly. As sweet as she was, she wasn’t you. Lunch ended with me thanking her for her time. It was a terrible date.

Two months passed before we talked. I could have reached out first, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to disrespect you or your boundaries. Looking back, I’m sure you probably felt the same way. I still admire the courage you had to do what you felt was necessary.

We talked on the phone for a while. You were telling those stories you used to tell when we were in bed. I’m sure that if I had closed my eyes and cuddled up in bed, I would feel exactly like I had on one of those nights we had.

“I hope this doesn’t make you uncomfortable.” You started. I could feel your anxiety through the phone an quickly remembered that we were no longer the same as before.

“I just want you to know that I’m still the most comfortable with you. This phone call, us talking, hearing your breathing. Although we’re different, I care about you just as much as I did before.” You finished.

I didn’t have much to say. I agreed and told you that I was always available for you in whatever way you needed. You told me the same. As afraid as I was, as heartbroken, as sure I was that you were the only person for me, I found comfort knowing you would always be around. Soulmates aren’t always romantic.

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four-loose-screws · 3 years ago

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FE8 Novelization Translation - Chapter 15, Section 2

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

FE Game Script Translations - FE Novel Translations - Original FE Support Conversations

If you are interested in donating to support my work, please check out my Ko-fi here. Thank you!

———————————

I call this a “section” because it is not a separate part of the chapter in the book, but divided from the rest of the chapter by a scene break.

———————————

Chapter 15 - The Day the Empire Fell (con’t) The unthinkable happened in Port Taizel.

Myrrh disappeared.

Their difficult journey to the capital had Ephraim's head full, so much so that he even forgot to keep an eye on her. When he thought about it after the fact, she looked like she had been trying to tell him something multiple times, but he didn’t listen. There was too much on his mind, and though he didn’t mean to, he ended up putting off whatever she needed from him.

What could she have been trying to say? For what reason would she leave without saying anything? Could she have run out of patience with him and left when he didn’t listen to her…?

‘No, Myrrh isn’t like that.’ Ephraim reassured himself, but his worrying only continued to worsen. He felt sorry for being so indifferent to what she wanted to say, but no matter how much he regretted what he had done, it was too late. With things as they were now, he had to search for her.

With eyewitness testimony from one of the locals that said they'd seen Myrrh wandering east, Ephraim’s army headed east. The person said that she'd been seen walking alone, so it seemed she had not been captured by bad people again, but left of her own free will. However, though they were gaining more information, they still didn’t know anything about the reason why she left.

Along the way, every time they passed through a town or village, they explained to the locals what Myrrh looked like, and gathered eyewitness accounts.

She had originally run off on her own, but at some point, seemed to have joined up with another person.

“A girl with indigo hair? Yeah, she was with Lady Selena.”

“...Selena, you said?” Ephraim’s face became pale. Did this mean that Myrrh had been taken by an imperial general? What could an imperial general want with her?

“Yeah, you know her, right? She’s called General Selena, the Fluorspar, and is a beautiful, strong, and charming woman. Though I wonder why such a beautiful person would become a general. I think it’s a waste…” Said a villager they passed by on the street, becoming completely distracted from Ephraim’s original question.

“Why was Lady Selena in this village?”

“She was shopping. A gemstone being sold here caught her eye, and she left the capital just to buy it.”

“A gemstone?”

“I don’t know what it’s called, but it sure was pretty. It was too expensive to sell right away, but word of it got to the capital, I suppose. Lady Selena is a soldier, but she’s still a woman. She likes gemstones, so she came here to buy it.”

The villager said with a laugh, but Ephraim couldn’t imagine that this was the sort of time for a soldier to leave the capital for personal reasons like a shopping trip. This stone could not be any ordinary gemstone.

“So then what did General Selena and the girl do…?”

“Hm, this happened right after Lady Selena bought the gemstone. The indigo haired girl came up to Lady Selena and started talking to her about something. She’s not from this village. In fact, I’ve never seen her around here before at all. I don’t know what they were talking about, but they had really serious looks on their faces. In the end, Lady Selena took the girl with her and left the village. I don’t know anything about what they did after that.”

Based on this story, Ephraim was able to piece together a conclusion.

The “gemstone” was likely the dragonstone that Myrrh was searching for. It was a precious gem to those of the dragon tribe, but Myrrh’s was stolen on her journey, and she’d lost all knowledge of its whereabouts. A merchant, not knowing just how valuable dragonstones are, sold it as a gemstone.

Meanwhile, General Selena had been called back immediately from Bethroen to the capital.

That was probably because she’d received the information that the dragonstone was being sold as a gemstone. The Sacred Stones, the Dark Stone, and now a dragonstone… the emperor seemed to be drawn to stones with great power hidden within them.

When they had arrived at Port Taizel, Myrrh had likely already sensed that her dragonstone was nearby. She'd tried to tell Ephraim that, but he didn’t listen to her, so she had no other option than to go out alone. That led her to this village, where she met Selena just after Selena obtained the dragonstone, and decided to talk to her...

The details were all consistent with each other. The problem was why Selena had taken Myrrh with her… and where they were now.

He explained the situation to Duessel, who crossed his arms and started to think.

“I can’t imagine that she would harm a civilian. Her demeanor and way of speaking are rough, but she has a kind heart. She probably wouldn’t do anything violent.”

“Then why would she take Myrrh with her? She doesn’t intend to hand Myrrh over to the emperor, does she? If anything happened to her, I....” Ephraim couldn’t calm down, and paced around as he shouted. This was all happening all because he hadn’t listened to her… That regret was still torturing him. “We may have to fight General Selena. General Duessel, it may be difficult for you to do that. Please stand down this time. You do not have to participate in the battle.”

“What are you saying? I have dedicated myself to your service. Whoever your enemies may be, I will fight them. Even if my opponent is Selena, I will not hesitate.” His tone was firm. He was probably thinking that if he hesitated, then it would dull Ephraim's will to fight as well… so he wanted to go out of his way to make his thoughts clear.

Ephraim was thankful for his teacher's thoughtfulness.

The next day, Ephraim’s army finally found Myrrh. Or rather, she came back on her own.

She appeared from within a forest that followed along the main road. When Ephraim saw her, he rushed over to her, and she looked up at him with large tears in her eyes.

“Ephraim…”

“Myrrh! You’re alright!”

“I’m sorry, Ephraim! All I ever do is cause trouble for you… I didn’t want to make you hate me again… but I still left anyway…”

“What are you talking about? You could never make me hate you or anything of the sort. I’m the one who was in the wrong. I’m sorry for not paying attention to you.”

However, they had no time for a joyous reunion.

A flustered soldier ran up to him to report, “Lord Ephraim! The Grado Army is coming this way! Their commanding officer is an imperial general, Selena the Fluorspar!”

“Let’s go! All units, get into battle positions!”

Ephraim tried to grab his weapon, but Myrrh grabbed his clothes tightly and pleaded, “Please wait, Ephraim! Whatever it takes, don’t fight her! She’s not a bad person!”

“Who? You mean General Selena?”

“Yes. She helped me run away. And told me to return to you…”

“But she took you away. Even if you say now that she told you to run away…”

“You’re wrong! She listened to what I had to say. She loves the emperor… and is suffering greatly. Please don’t fight her! Please…” Myrrh was always so quiet that this was the first time she’d ever shown any emotion like this.

Ephraim was taken aback by it, but he nodded. “I understand. I’ll do everything I can to try and persuade her.”

“Thank you, Ephraim…”

From what Duessel and Myrrh had said, General Selena didn’t seem to be a bad person. There was a very good chance that they could talk things through.

Ephraim was optimistic, but the expression on Duessel’s face was grim.

When he asked why, Duessel said with a pained look on his face, “Selena has a very pure and genuine personality. Her loyalty to His Majesty is steadfast. No matter how unreasonable the order, if it is what he wishes, she would happily dirty her own hands… That’s just the kind of person she is. I don’t believe that she will lend an ear to your plea.”

“Even if you did your very best to persuade her?”

“I am a traitor. She is the person who first declared that I should be executed. She is probably still suspicious of me.”

“So that means…”

“Yes. It is unlikely that we will be able to avoid fighting her.”

Still, Ephraim did not give up hope. He wanted to grant Myrrh her wish.

Selena’s army was in battle position in a marsh. Ephraim’s army had to trudge through sopping wet mud as they marched onwards.

He stayed away from the oncoming Grado soldiers as much as he possibly could, and avoided fighting as he searched for Selena. She was deep within the center of the marsh, riding atop a white horse and surrounded by her soldiers.

Ephraim continued to dodge the Grado soldiers, and approached Selena.

Selena also noticed him, ordered her soldiers not to fight, then neared him.

He’d heard that she was beautiful, but he was surprised at just how true was. Although her appearance was plain in her soldier's uniform, she couldn’t help drawing in the fascination of those around her. Her glittering eyes were befitting of one called “Fluorspar.”

“Are you General Selena?" Ephraim asked.

Selena nodded and answered, "I am indeed. And you are Prince Ephraim, correct?"

"Yes. I'd like to talk to you.” Ephraim put his weapon behind his back to show that he had no intention of fighting.

Selena's soldiers broke out in a commotion, but Selena stopped them, then she looked at Ephraim. "What about?"

"I want you to withdraw your soldiers. A battle such as this one is meaningless. Emperor Vigarde is not in his right mind."

"...I know." Selena nodded, and Ephraim breathed a sigh of relief. However, her following words betrayed all of his hopes. "But I will not withdraw my soldiers."

"Why not?"

"I am an imperial soldier. His Majesty's orders are absolute."

With her unshakeable words, Ephraim was the one to flinch.

Was she some sort of fanatic? No, he saw none of that distinctive insanity in her quiet eyes.

"How foolish… you know the emperor has descended into madness, yet you still swear your loyalty to him even now?"

"A noble like you could never understand. To us knights, this is our way of life."

"General Deussel deliberately disobeyed Emperor Vigarde. You may think of him as a traitor, but he chose that path because of his sincerity as a knight."

"I know that. I was wrong to call him a traitor. He loves Grado from the very bottom of his heart, and grieves his emperor's fate. He is truly a loyal retainer."

"If you know that much, then why wouldn't you do the same?"

"I am different from General Deussel. I respect his way of life, but I can only choose my way of life."

"You are a fool!" He shouted at her.

Selena nodded gently. "You are right. I agree with you one hundred times over."

"Surrender, Selena! I don't want to have to defeat you!"

"You, defeat me? Don't patronize me, Prince Ephraim. I have no intention of dying here. Now ready your weapon!"

It was already impossible to persuade her any further. Ephraim drew his lance back out from behind him.

Selena swiftly chanted a spell. Ephraim jumped the moment before fire shot from her fingertip, and avoided the attack.

The Grado soldiers initiated their own attacks to guard Selena. The Frelian soldiers standing behind Ephraim also readied their weapons and rushed forward.

Selena expertly steered her horse while also launching attack spells one after the other. Her speed and power amazed Ephraim.

The power that had elevated her to the title of imperial general at such a young age was of course not just for show. To Ephraim, who knew nothing about magic, taking just one good hit would very likely be fatal.

Ephraim cut down the oncoming Grado soldiers as he avoided Selena's spells. He trudged through the mud-soaked earth, and was soon covered in mud himself.

He was overcome by intense anger so great that he wanted to scream. He did not want to kill a person like Selena. But if he did not kill her, then he would be killed.

His anger gave him strength. He stabbed each Grado soldier that came at him at random intervals, then charged at Selena. The Grado soldiers did not fear his great force, but still slowly backed away. He did not slow down.

"Lord Ephraim…!" His attacks looked so reckless that his allies started to yell at him.

Selena stared down at him from atop her horse with her eyes open as wide as they could be.

He glared at her beautiful face and screamed, "You're such a fool… You're an absolute idiot!"

The moment Ephraim leapt into the air off the muddy ground, a ball of orange fire shot from Selena’s fingertip.

Ephraim did not dodge it. That had never been his intention.

His lance stabbed deep into her side. Her body slumped over, and she fell from her horse.

The soldiers all stopped moving. Ephraim was still breathing heavily when he looked down at Selena. She was trying to get up, but no longer had the strength to do so.

When she lost her remaining strength in her arms and back, the pained expression disappeared from her face. In its place, for the first time since Ephraim had seen her, she was calm.

Her lips moved slightly, so he bent down to try and hear her final words.

"I'm so tired…" she whispered. Her eyes slowly closed, and she stopped moving.

"The enemy general has fallen! My army is the victor!"

Ephraim stood up and declared as loudly as he could, causing the panicking Grado soldiers to drop their weapons one after the other. Some of the Grado soldiers fled, but most of them surrendered to Ephraim’s army.

"Please let us heal you, Lord Ephraim!"

The healers called out to him, and Ephraim finally noticed his wounds. The stress he’d been experiencing mentally had kept him from feeling the physical pain, but Selena's fire magic had covered half of his body with serious burns.

Before retiring to his tent, he ordered his soldiers to search Selena’s belongings. They quickly found the stone that she had gone to the village to buy.

If one was told that it was a gemstone, then they could certainly see it. It emitted a strange light, and was very beautiful. Ephraim put it in his breast pocket.

ー

Duessel and Myrrh came to visit Ephraim while he was in the healing tent. It was hard for him to face her.

However, he couldn’t look away. Ephraim pulled the dragonstone out of his pocket, and handed it to Myrrh. “This is your stone, isn’t it?”

Myrrh wrapped her hands around it and took it. “...Yes. It is my stolen dragonstone. But…” Her large eyes were filled with tears. “I am sad. I have gotten back my precious dragonstone, and yet… I am so very, very sad.”

“I’m sorry, Myrrh. I wanted to persuade her somehow, but I couldn’t do it. I… had no choice but to defeat her.”

“I understand. It wasn’t your fault. It is just sad. Even though she was such a good person… Even though she looked so happy when she talked about the emperor…”

Ephraim closed his eyes. The image of Selena, the woman who was still proud to be the emperor's general despite knowing full well of his insanity, was burned into his mind.

“Why can’t it just be bad people, but also good people who must fight? Why can’t we end this without any good people dying?”

Ephraim closed his eyes and shook his head. “I don’t know why either, Myrrh. But I’m going to the capital to search for answers. That is where everything will be made clear.” Ephraim shifted his gaze over towards Duessel, who was standing quietly behind Myrrh. “General Deussel, Selena said that she was wrong to accuse you of being a traitor. She fully understood your true intentions.”

Those words only made Duessel’s expression grow darker. “....When Glen died, I turned my back against the emperor… So she had to bear the weight of all of that all by herself. The only people left around His Majesty now are wicked men like Riev and Valter. Amid all of that, she fought to try and defend her loyalty to His majesty. She couldn’t help having regrets, but… she did not pity herself.”

“I’m so tired…” Ephraim remembered her final words.

Her voice had sounded like all of the life had been sucked out her, but he thought that he had seen peace in her expression. Perhaps it had been the relief of finally being freed from her grueling fight?

Ephraim stood up. Thanks to the diligent care of the healers, he hardly felt the pain of his burns at all any more. “I don’t understand. She was a smart person. She saw that the emperor was not in his right mind. Then why did she continue to serve the emperor, despite that? Surely she should have known that was not the right path…”

“Lord Ephraim. I was born into a family of knights that has served at the capital for generations. I wanted for nothing, and studied combat under a great teacher since I was young. It was obvious that I would be inducted into the knights.”

Ephraim looked straight at Duessel, wondering what he was telling this story for.

“But Selena was different. She was born in a poor, deserted village. She wasn't one to talk about it much, but I heard rumors. The area was always plagued by famine, and they had to sell off their young children just to survive… That is the kind of village I was told it was."

Myrrh timidly opened her mouth. "It's true. She told me about it as well. When I told her about the terrifying powers of the dark stone, she looked very sad… She told me why she continued to trust the emperor. She said that when she was poor, didn't have anything to eat, and everyone was starving and freezing, he sent food…"

Duessel nodded. “I remember that period very well. One year, a terrible cold front assaulted all of Grado, leaving the remote villages in a state of ruin. And the worst among them all was Selena’s birthplace. His Majesty immediately decided to rush to their aid. Most of his vassals spoke out against using any funding for such a reason. It is embarrassing to admit it, but the nobles and officers, living carefree lives in the capital, did not care what happened to the people living in those regions. They would rather thousands of people starve to death if the opposite meant cutting into their incomes and making them do more work… There were many who thought like that. His Majesty rebuked those rotten nobles and had large shipments of food and clothing sent to the remote villages. I served at his side, so I know this very well. His Majesty… what was happening made him cry.”

Ephraim was reminded of Lyon. Knowing that the ordinary citizens suffered and lived in poverty also pained him. That kindness was likely a trait he had inherited from his father. “So Selena became a knight to repay that favor…?”

“That is correct. For a starving, freezing young child who could only wait for death to come for her, nothing could have made her happier than the food sent from the capital… Selena came to the capital only wanting to serve His Majesty, and knocked on the door of the knights’ barracks. When I first met her, she was a raggedy, thin little girl. Some of the knights even laughed at her. They said this child, who was so poor she couldn’t even buy a decent outfit, must be out of her mind. However, I thought she had promise. There was no one else as passionate and pure in their loyalty, even among the knights. She stood out above all others, and gained His Majesty’s trust. Some were envious that she became a general so young, but I thought she was a perfect fit for the promotion. There was no one better to be Grado's… no, His Majesty’s knight." Duessel closed his eyes to hold back his tears.

The emperor, compassionate towards his citizens, who would cry at just the thought of their suffering, had completely and suddenly changed on that fateful day into a cruel invader. Ephraim could only imagine the extent of Selena’s despair and suffering.

“I’m so tired...” It would be nearly impossible for Ephraim to ever erase her final words from his memory in his entire life.

“And it’s all because of the Dark Stone… right? Does this Dark Stone that Lyon created really possess such terrifying power?” Ephraim looked at Myrrh. “Is there any way for us to return the emperor to who he once was? If we destroy the Dark Stone, will the evil controlling him disappear? He'll return to normal, won't he?"

“That… cannot be done.” Myrrh shook her head with a sunken look on her face. “The ominous energy does not simply control a person. It completely changes them. It is as if the stone breaks who they once were, and plants a new personality within them…”

“Are you saying that in other words, Emperor Vigarde’s kind personality is already completely destroyed?” Ephraim whispered with a sigh.

This meant that Selena had died for an emperor who had become an entirely different person on the inside, even though he still looked the same as always on the outside. There was nothing in the world more pitiable.

“Anyway, we will hurry to the capital, and figure out a way to stop Emperor Vigarde’s tyranny. We cannot allow anyone else to become a victim to the Dark Stone.” Ephraim declared, and walked out of the tent.

#fire emblem #fe #fe8 #sacred stones #eirika #gba #game boy advance #japan #japanese #translation #light novel #fe8 novelization translation

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janicho88 · 4 years ago

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Fire, Fur & Mistletoe Chapter 5

Pairing- Eventual Dean x Female Reader.

Word Count- 2,497

Warning- Mentions of car accidents, fires, and alcohol. Possible swearing. Fluff.

Summary- A rewrite of the Nine Lives of Christmas, Hallmark movie. AU, Dean is a firefighter who doesn’t do commitment, the Holiday’s don’t mean much to him. Coming home after a shift he finds a dog in trouble. The reader is a veterinary student who works in a coffee shop trying to make it to graduation, until someone causes problems there for her. She isn’t interested in finding anyone other than her own dog until after she finishes school. Do their four legged friends have other plans?

A/N- This series is written for @spnchristmasbingo. The square filled for this chapter is the free space, Christmas cookies. The first two chapters will stay closer to the movie than the rest will. This has its own tag list and it is open. That way I am not tagging anyone who doesn’t want to be tagged in Christmas stories. This story is unbeta’d.

Header by the amazing @winchest09

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Series Masterlist

Dean went in for a shift the next day taking Miracle with him and you went back out job and apartment hunting. Still no luck on either front. Heading home to Dakota you got out a few more Christmas decorations you had in boxes and added some in the kitchen, and up the wood staircase, being careful none of Dean's hard work got scratched.

You were heading upstairs to your apartment when the front door opened. Turning around quickly you saw a blond woman walking in who seemed almost as surprised to see you as you were to see her. Maybe Dean had found another girl to go out with and was keeping it a secret.

“Hello.” You greeted her.

“I thought Sam was joking, if I had known he wasn't I would have knocked instead of using the emergency key.”

Not entirely sure what was going on you kept quiet.

"I'm sorry I didn't catch what Sam said your name was. Like I said, I thought he was joking about Dean's girlfriend moving in."

That got your mouth semi working. "Not Dean's girlfriend, just friend. Just sleeping together. No, not sleeping, living, I mean staying. I’m staying in the apartment. I'm Y/N."

"Nice to meet you Dean's not girlfriend, I'm Jess."

"Oh your Sam's girlfriend."

"Yeah, actual girlfriend. We live and sleep together too." She says with a teasing smile.

"It's nice to meet you, Dean's told me a little about you." You told her about your eviction and Dean offering you a place to stay and the brothers moving you out.

She was extremely nice and had a very bubbly personality. She was someone who would be friends with everyone.

"I came over to look at something for Dean's Christmas present, but I don’t want to bother you.”

“No, your fine. I just put a few more Christmas decorations out, I was going back to the apartment. Do you need any help?”

“Do you know where Dean’s tools are? He was telling Sam he broke something and we were going to get him a new part for Christmas. I just need the model number.”

“Yeah, I can show you.” As you led her past the living room she froze looking inside.

“I can’t believe there is an actual tree in here, with presents underneath. In the years I’ve known Dean he doesn’t do much for Christmas at all.”

“I asked if we could, I’ve always enjoyed having a Christmas tree.”

She looks over at you. “You’re good for him, girlfriend or not I think he really needs someone like you in his life.”

You weren’t sure how to respond so you just smiled and led her down the hall.

The first half of Dean’s shift kept the guys moving. One small restaurant fire, then car accident to a residential oven fire. When things finally calmed down and it seemed like they might get a few minutes peace Dean headed to the bunks to try and get a some sleep with Miracle following along behind him. After Dean layed down he was soon joined by his faithful companion. The boys managed to get a few hours before the alarm went off again. Coming back this time they headed to the kitchen to find some food. Bobby would sneak Miracle some scraps when no one else was looking. Sitting around the table Sam turns to Dean.

“Get all your Christmas shopping done?”

“Yep, done and wrapped.”

Cas looks between the brothers, “I think I missed something, Dean went shopping?”

“Yep, Y/N got him to go to the mall with her.”

“Does this mean no gift cards this year?” Cas wanted to know.

“They sell gift cards at the mall.”

“I would laugh at that, but knowing you that’s exactly what you bought,” Sam stared at his brother.

“Have to find out when you open it.”

“Oh yeah, that’s definitely what he did.” Benny injected.

“Alright you idjits” Bobby starts talking as he walks back in. “Don’t forget the fundraiser party is in a few days. Winchesters, you both are on deserts, aka Christmas cookies. Benny and Cas have drinks, preferably not alcohol.”

“Hey Chief, why am I on desserts this year?” Sam wanted to know.

“Do you remember last year's party?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you remember last year’s egg nog at the party?”

Sam’s smile gets bigger, “Yeah.”

“That’s why. Most of these people are driving home, we don’t need them buzzed before they finish their first drink. The list the other shifts are bringing is on the bulletin board by my office.” He starts to walk away, “Oh and Dean.”

“Yes Bobby.”

“An edible dessert would be nice this year.”

“Hey, at least they looked good last year!”

Bobby left the room muttering about being surrounded by idjits on his way out.

Dean arrives home to find you going through the cupboard, “Hey, how’s it going?”

“Alright, I was just making a grocery list. Is there anything you need?”

“Yeah I actually need to pick something up, I’ll come with you.”

Getting the dogs settled the two of you are off to the grocery store. Going through the bakery section Dean stops and looks at the premade desserts. “

Holding up a package of frosted sugar cookies and one of cupcakes he turns to you.

“Do you think either of these are edible?”

“I would hope so since that is what the store is selling them for.”

“Well do you think they are any good, that they taste alright.”

“Probably, yeah. If you want one, just get it. I thought you were more of a pie lover though?”

“Oh I am, these aren’t for me. We have a fundraiser party for the station and I’m on desserts. I’m supposed to bring Christmas cookies.”

“And you want to take those with you.”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

He looks down at the cookies with such disappointment. “Okay then one of those packs instead.”

“Dean, you aren’t going to buy a pack of cookies to pass off as Christmas cookies. You need to make those.”

“Not a hundred percent sure they would be edible then. Bobby said they had to be edible this year.”

“I’ll help you don’t worry. It’s another Christmas activity for you.”

“I really think buying those on the table would be easier.”

Finishing the rest of the shopping you take Dean down the baking aisle. “So what kind of Christmas cookies were you thinking.”

“I don’t know, I was thinking whatever kind I could buy in the store.”

“Alright. How about Sugar cookies to start with. How many do you need?”

“There is usually a good number of people there. Both Sam and I are bringing them. Probably need a hundred each, maybe a few more.”

“What is this for exactly?”

“It’s a fundraiser we have down at the station. People donate toys, and other needed items. Santa is there for the kids.”

“Okay a big group of people take peanut butter out, don’t want to risk an allergy.” You thought through your mental list of Christmas goodies. “You could do the cranberry bliss bars I used to make at work, those are always a hit, and I have a recipe for white chocolate ginger cookie that’s really good. If any of those interest you?”

“You would really help me bake all that?”

“Yeah, I like baking and I have nothing else to do. Plus you are still letting me stay with you and won’t take my money when I try to pay you.”

“I’ll accept your payment in cookies.”

“Great.”

The two of you grab what you need from the aisle before heading to the checkout.

After arriving home the groceries you don’t need right now are put away. The Cranberry bar is made first, so that it can cook while you roll out the sugar cookies. He was chopping the dried cranberries into little pieces for the cake, and having way too much fun with the knife. Miracle and Dakota joined you in the kitchen hoping to catch anything that fell.

“I think the cranberries are small enough Dean.”

“Are you sure?”

“Um, yeah. Any smaller and they are just going to be red dots.”

Your plan was to keep it simple and just do round sugar cookies, but someone had other ideas.

“Where are the shape thingies?”

“What thingies?”

“You know the things that make snowmen, Santa and stockings.” Dean’s hand was going up and down in the air, almost miming cutting out cookies.

“You mean cookie cutters? I can go see if I can find mine.” Heading to the apartment you looked through the boxes to see if you could find any. Luck was on your side, finding a bag of cookie cutters and a rolling pin you made your way back to the kitchen.

He rolled it out the first time and got it so thin you swore the cookies would have burnt the moment you put them in the oven. Getting it all back in a pile you showed him how thick he wanted it to be before you started cutting out cookies. He went through the bag of cookie cutters finding the ones he wanted to use. Grabbing out a stocking, snowman, tree, and a dog bone. To his disappointment you didn’t have Santa.

“Guess, I’ll have to get one for next year.”

You watched him do a few, “Okay I have to ask, what is with the dog bone cookies, how are they Christmassy?”

“Those are in honor of Miracle. We can decorate them red and green.”

“Okay.”

When the bliss bar came out of the oven Dean came and looked it over. “Do you think it’s edible?”

“Do you mean right this minute, because it needs to cool first then it gets frosting.”

“I mean in general.”

“Yes, it’s edible. I made these at the coffee shop all the time. Why do you keep asking if things are going to be edible?”

“Bobby, the Chief, told me I needed an edible dessert this year.”

You looked at him a moment, “Okay I have to ask, what did you take before for a desert that wasn’t edible?”

“Last year I went to the store and saw this container with what looked like cutout sugar cookies. Some had frosting, some were decorated with just sprinkles. They looked really nice.”

“Uh huh. How did they taste?”

“Like bitter disappointment mixed with the tears of children.”

“Oh my.”

“They were so hard you couldn’t even bite into them and if you managed to break off a piece to eat, it had a sour taste to it. Guess that’s why they were on the sale rack.”

“That sounds,” You were trying to control your laughter. “Sounds very delightful. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to try them.”

“Yeah yeah, laugh all you want. They looked good at least.”

“You are trusted with cookies again this year? Aren’t they afraid of a repeat?”

“Apparently not as much as they were with Sam and the eggnog. He dumped a whole bottle of rum in it last year. He was moved to cookies this year.”

“Getting the guests drunk to be able to eat the food, sounds like the Winchester brothers put together an interesting Christmas party.”

Dean just laughs “Yeah we can get a little crazy now and then.”

“What do your Christmas plans usually include?”

“It’s just my sister, her husband and I. Donna is the under sheriff and some years she has to work part of the day. This year she works in the morning, and I’m volunteering at a pet adoption day in the park. Then we are having dinner at their house.

While the sugar cookies were in the oven the two of you worked on the batter for the ginger cookies.

“I’ll be honest,” Dean started to say. “I don’t like gingerbread cookies.”

“Me neither.”

“Then why are we making them?”

“We aren’t. These are ginger cookies, slightly different. I promise they are good. They will also be edible.”

Dean gave you a hard look before going back to the mixing bowl grumbling. “They smell like gingerbread cookies.”

“They smell like ginger. But if you don’t like them, you don’t have to eat them.”

While the last of the cookies were in the oven you started on the frosting for the cranberry bar. Dean kept trying to stick a finger in the bowl.

“Stop it, what are you five? You can have the bowl when the bar is done.”

“This doesn’t take like regular frosting what’s in it, cream cheese, butter, vanilla, powdered sugar, orange juice, and white chocolate. It’s the last two that make it a little different.”

“It’s actually really good.” You glared at him. “Not that I was doubting your baking abilities at all. Mine 100% doubtable, but you’re great.”

Finishing that you two moved on to the sugar cookie frosting Dean poured a little too much powdered sugar in to mix and ended up with it all over the counter and on the dogs laying at his feet. He snuck them each a cookie to make up for it. Adding some red and green food coloring to two bowls then getting sprinkles out the two of you went to town.

The last job of the night was dipping the ginger cookies in white chocolate. When one had hardened up you gave it to Dean to try.

“I’m not sure I want that, I would rather have pie.”

“Just a bite, if you don’t like it you don’t have to eat it.”

“Fine.” Taking a bite he chews for a minute. “Actually they aren’t bad, the chocolate tames some of the flavor.”

As the two of you worked together to clean up the kitchen, Dean suggested ordering dinner so you wouldn't have to clean up another mess tonight.

“Sure, that’s fine with me.”

While he was gone to grab dinner you took out a few other items you bought at the store. Quickly whipping up a pie crust you grabbed the cans of filling. Just not enough time tonight to make some. Putting some crumble topping on, the pie was in the oven before Dean made it back.

When he walked in a short time later he came in the kitchen with his nose in the air.

“The cookies make it smell really good in here, I didn’t notice that earlier.”

“That’s not all the cookies, I may have a cherry pie in the oven for you.”

Oh his eyes go so big. “Really?”

“Yeah, you’ve been talking about one lately.”

“Man, you are amazing.”

Finishing dinner you took the pie out to cool. That lasted about five minutes before Dean cut himself a giant slice.

Trying to get some work on the house done the two of worked together painting one of the spare bedrooms before the four of you headed to the living room to watch tv.

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 6

Tags- @winchest09 @waywardbeanie @whatareyousearchingfordean @flamencodiva @deanwanddamons @jensengirl83 @abuavnee @lunarmoon8 @amyzombie1013 @akshi8278 @that-one-gay-girl @mandalou29 @igotmadskills @440mxs-wife @paryl @supernatural-love14 @krazykelly @anotherspnfanfic @bobbie3939 @deanwinchestersnightmoves @winchestergirl2 @thoughts-and-funnies

#fire fur & mistletoe #dean winchester #spnchristmasbingo #dean x female!reader #dean x reader #firefighter dean winchester #supernatural

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cockasinthebird · 4 years ago

Text

Laced up and ready to get dirty

Fingers tighten around the leather of the steering wheel, tensing till his knuckles go white then relaxing again. Deep breath in, then a long exhale. In… and out...

Steve is excited and thrilled and eager but also completely, devastatingly… nervous.

He angles the rearview mirror to look at himself and fidgets with his hair- not that it needs to be retouched for the fifteenth time today already, but it buys him time. Precious time to waste away on hesitation, and the longer he gets to hesitate, the less likely he is to actually.... He glances down the tan, buttoned up trench coat and triple checks that it’s closed all the way up and pulls on the belt to tighten it around his waist till he loses breath, JUST to be safe and secure.

It was a stupid spur-of-the-moment idea he got last week when he was visiting Hawkins to clear out whatever was left of his childhood home; his parents selling it now that Steve doesn’t live there anymore, all with such a lack of grace that shows they never really cared for that house, as if it was nothing more than a lavish cage for their only child. In a bag of clothes marked for donation - his father’s idea of philanthropy - Steve found an old Burberry trench coat, truly as fashionable and fitting now as it was back then, only difference being that as an adult who pays for everything himself, this coat would now be the most expensive thing in his and Billy’s entire apartment. Maybe he should have been more grateful for all that he had back then, or so his father would say whenever he found time to reprimand his son, but that wasn’t what he needed.

“Arrh, fuck!” Steve groans and rubs his face in hopes of recentering himself on the task at hand. He could mope around and be sad about his terrible father later, right now there’s more important things to do.

Such as opening the door to the same old BMW, the car soon on its last legs, having only survived this many years thanks for Billy’s expertise truly. It’s a bit colder out on the street than Steve expected, or maybe just a bit too windy, but he isn’t exactly wearing it to stay warm as much as he is to stay covered.

The hem of it grazes against the top of his suede boots as he takes decisive but careful steps around his car, now facing the open carport that exposes the inner works of the small service shop. It’s been almost a year since Billy got hired here as a mechanic, and it is possibly the happiest Steve’s ever seen him. Neither of them ever dreamed of big and important lives, no wanting to be a doctor or president or astronaut. All they wanted to be was happy, and they’ve found it in the simplest way possible.

He spots Billy immediately, past all the sweaty men, scattered car parts, and open hoods, he sees his boyfriend rise up from having just been shoulders deep in the guts of a shiny pontiac, coveralls tied around his waist, his white tank soaked with sweat, arms stained black with oil and grease.

The sight of it all sends delightful shivers down Steve’s entire body, ears to toes, and as he watches Billy wipe away sweat from his brow, well suddenly Steve’s far more confident in what he came here to do.

It shows in the way he marches towards Billy, who turns with a cocked brow at the assertive footsteps approaching him, where once he sees that it’s Steve demanding his attention, the most effortlessly smooth and charming smile spreads across his face, lids heavy to match the way Steve stares - something so salacious in the way his eyes glide up and down Billy’s dirty body, shiny with sweat.

“What are you doing here, princess?” Billy asks in a low and gravelly tone, quickly glancing around to see if anyone heard.

“Hmmm well…” Steve coos and plays lightly with the belt of his coat, the way his fingers flirt with the fabric hopefully clear with his intent, then speaks bluntly, “I woke up kinda horny today, y’know? Thought I’d save it for later- for when you come home, and tried distracting myself with doing the dishes or vacuum or anything really, but my hand just kept going down to jerk myself off-”

“Jesus Christ Stevie,” Billy breathes harshly.

“-and so eventually I wound up back in bed, on my knees, three fingers deep in me-” Steve wiggles said fingers for certain emphasis. “-but it just wasn’t enough. I need something thicker and veinier.”

With every word his stomach ties knots around itself, yet his dick is filled with life at how risky this is, with how much he needs to feel Billy pounding him sore and weak.

“And what do you want me to do about that?” Billy licks his lips, a hand reaching down to inconspicuously cup at his growing erection.

“I was hoping you could help me with my little problem? Ensuring that my engine is properly lubricated,” Steve’s naughty little smile fails at his own words, growing wider and betraying the sexy facade.

But it doesn’t seem that Billy minds as he laughs a bit too loud, biting his lower lip as if that would help keep his own smile more casual than one filled with exuberant joy. “You’re a menace- that was absolutely horrible,” he chuckles and brings both hands to his hips.

“Don’t be mean, I worked on it all the way here!” Steve’s own amusement bubbling over and into his voice.

Billy dares take a step closer, eyes slipping from Steve’s lips down his neck, pausing where he should be able to see the collar of a shirt. “You don’t have to try so hard for me, baby. Just tell me what you need, and maybe I can be of assistance.”

Steve’s expression dips back into something most indecent, his gaze burning with desire, pink lips parted as he slowly enunciates, “I need you to fuck me, hard and rough. I want your hands all over me, want your cock in me so fucking bad I think I might go insane without it. Please Billy, I-I can’t wait till you get home,” desperation seeps in as his tone goes almost whiny.

And Billy gapes like a fish, lips hesitating around emptiness as he tries to formulate thoughts. He glances around the shop, up at a clock hanging above the “Employees Only” sign, brow furrowed as he contemplates his options, all the while Steve waits as patiently as he can, pulling the belt tighter around his waist as if it would magically open up if he didn’t.

“Why don’t we… step into my office, and I’ll see what I can do?”

Unfortunately by “office” Billy meant the blindingly bright, claustrophobically small employee bathroom. It’s maybe 6 by 6 feet large and not at all what Steve had in mind, but he’s not going to complain about the abnormally large mirror above the sink. And at least it looks clean… enough.

Steve’s quick to turn to Billy as soon as the lock clicks, grabbing on to the white tank and using it to guide him to sit down on the toilet.

Billy, however, disagrees with that immediately and moves to touch Steve, who just as swiftly grabs his wrist, restricting his reach.

"Billy-" he starts off a bit agitated, but smoothes into something more agreeable, "Baby, if you get my coat dirty, you'll be eating cornflakes till you can afford to send it to the dry cleaner."

The way Billy laughs at that is mocking in a sense, but his shitty grin simply reminds Steve of the thrill he felt back in high school, after they started fucking around but before they became serious about one another.

"Forgot what a priss you can be sometimes, princess," he drawls and leans back, licking his lips as he settles with something vaguely familiar to patience.

“Hmmm…” Steve hums, slowly untying the belt of his coat. “You like that I’m high maintenance sometimes.”

He smoothly slips out of the heavy boots.

“Makes you feel real good about yourself though, getting to fuck someone with above average standards.”

In a show of how agile and limber he is, Steve stretches out his leg where the coat parts in front, and hooks his heel over Billy’s shoulder. Who in turn stares with a bit wider eyes at the silky soft, pastel pink nylon stockings clinging to Steve’s shin. Billy’s grip on his own thighs tighten with self restraint, the urge to touch the smoothness of Steve nearly unbearable.

“Did you shave your legs?”

“I did, for you.” Steve generally doesn’t care about leg hair, but found it a bit awkward looking when his thick, dark hairs stuck out of the bright nylon. “Wanna see what else I’ve shaved?”

Leisurely but with gentle pressure, Steve lets his foot glide down Billy’s chest, over his abs and all the sweat stains of his tank, past where the sleeves of his coveralls have been tied together, till he finds Billy’s hard cock tenting already, eliciting a lurid little hiss as he rubs it with the sole of his foot.

“God, you’re so easy, baby,” Steve speaks low with intent, drawing circles, revelling in the choked groans. “Getting you hard like this is effortless.”

At an all too agonizing pace, deliberate and mean, Steve unbuttons his coat from the bottom and up, exposing more and more of his thighs, the build up thrilling him as he watches how Billy sweats and struggles to remain dormant. Oh how he cannot wait to get the coat off and let his boyfriend ravage him completely, even the mere thought of it makes his own prick throb and beg for attention.

Billy stares with the most attention he’s probably ever shown any one person, eyes following the movement of Steve’s fingers, up and up and up, until a hint of lace gets revealed at the end of the stocking, cute and floral and feminine, a dozen small roses hugging the pale flesh, shiny straps leading further up to hide beneath the tan of the trench coat.

Steve caresses his thigh, hooking a finger beneath the strap and pulls it up only to let it snap back against his skin loudly, the sound reverberating, all the while never looking away from how Billy watches with intense hunger.

The burning gaze affixed to fingers follow right along, as Steve makes a bit of a jump and starts unbuttoning from the top now. One by one, till he runs his index along the hem, up to where it grazes against his neck, to pull slowly so that one shoulder can slip out, uncovering the strap of what can only be a bra, reaching down to hold on to delicate lace.

Harsh sighs escapes Billy as he attempts to control his breathing and himself, tongue darting out to wet his lips - Steve can feel the way Billy’s fat cock pumps full of blood beneath his foot.

There’s only two buttons left, and as one of them falls free, the coat drops down to bunch around Steve’s waist and the sink he’s leaning against, putting the pink, lacy bralette on full display; roses and leafs arranged into small triangles that sits tight against Steve’s pecks, his nipples just barely visible beneath the gorgeous and elegant fabric.

“Stevie, babe, please, I’m going to explode here,” Billy complains in an almost hilariously irritated manner, raising his hand up towards Steve’s thigh-

“No touching yet, I’m not done.” Steve swiftly kicks away that dirty hand.

“Thought you needed me to fuck you so bad,” the mocking response comes as Billy’s hand retreats to dig into his pocket.

And Steve pauses with his fingers around the final button that will unravel everything. “Well yes, but the thrill of anticipation gets me so hard.”

He pushes it out, wraps his hands around the coat and slowly pulls it apart, like a curtain revealing a true masterpiece of craftsmanship. And if Billy’s eyes were wide before, they’re now threatening to pop out at the sight of the garter belt attached to the stockings hugging Steve’s waist perfectly, and a thong matching the bralette in shape and lace, that might once have had a chance of containing all that Steve is, but now his long, full dick reaches up towards the belt with hard pride.

“Holy fucking shit,” Billy gapes, “I didn’t forget our anniversary or something, did I?”

Steve chuckles and blushes slightly at the attention and knowledge of just how stunning he looks. “Can’t I just surprise my boyfriend for no reason other than fun?”

“I’m sure you can, but I’m also sure you have some ulterior motive… not that I’m complaining.”

The sly smirk across Steve’s face suits him well as he slips out of the coat entirely, and reaches out to hang it on the hook attached to the bathroom door. Now fully exposed before Billy, Steve spreads his legs a bit further, runs his fingers lightly over the lace of his bra, and bats his eyes slowly.

Who stands up just as slowly, hesitantly, as if he’s still awaiting orders, as if Steve will tell him to stop and sit down any second now. When he reaches out Steve grabs his wrist, firm and assertive, but doesn’t linger in that moment; brings Billy’s hand up and up to touch his cheek, brushing fingers against pale skin and defiling it with dark smudges of oil. Still Steve doesn’t relent as he guides the hand down again till the rough palm presses against his throat, and Billy takes the opportunity immediately to squeeze.

A gasp hurries out at the sudden tightness around his airway and Steve’s eyes rolls back with the pleasure that jolts through his system, making his already painfully hard prick pulsate worse.

“Fuck, Billy…”

The other hand lands on his thigh, besmirching the pretty pink there, pushing into the soft flesh. As Steve closes his eyes to enjoy the euphoric, brutish hold he’s under, Billy dives in all tongue and teeth, biting at his lower lip and licking in to taste how sweet his spit is. Steve lifts up his free leg to hook it around Billy’s hips, drawing him in, finally allowing them both some heady friction, encouraged by strangled moans.

“Mmh- arrh, shit, pretty boy, this really couldn’t wait till I got home?” Billy growls against Steve’s lips, tickling as they brush together.

“I- mmh-ah, I wanted you dirty and risky like this,” Steve coos as low as he can and chases a kiss, but Billy leans away with such a shit eating grin. “Billy-” Another chase. “-Billy, please.”

“Don’t gotta beg, princess,” Billy’s laugh rumbles like thunder on a summer night; warm and deep and comforting

He takes a step back, Steve’s body instinctively trying to follow at the abrupt lack of touch, and with quick hands Billy undoes the way the sleeves are tied around his waist, unzips the rest of his coveralls that fall without effort to the floor, and pulls down his dark trunks enough for his steely cock to practically spring free.

The way Steve audibly inhales at the sight of it is almost humoristic, his body now acutely aware of everything that’s about to happen.

“How do you want it?” Billy drawls.

And it brings Steve back from the more indecent places his mind went at the sight of what he’s been hungering for all day. Half of him wants to drop to his knees and suck Billy dry till he’s delirious, the winning half however… He looks away for only as long as it takes him to retrieve the small and discreet bottle of lube from his coat pocket and pops it open before Billy can even speak again. He pours it into his own palm and closes his hand around Billy’s thick dick, stroking him quickly with impatience, slicking up every inch of hard flesh.

“I want you to fuck me from behind, bend me over the sink and pound my hole till I’m on the verge of tears,” Steve’s voice a lewd little thing, a salacious whisper only Billy would ever be found worthy of hearing, ghosting across his lips.

To which the only appropriate response Billy deem fit is to grab on to his boyfriend’s naked hips and spin him around, leaving clear, gross handprints that get smudged when those same hands smooth their way down to fill out with Steve’s ass.

Steve’s all too eager to bend down over the short sink, bracing himself on the porcelain edges as he watches how Billy admires the view through the mirror. The way those clear blue eyes stare down at his exposed self, tongue out to lick his lips like a wolf would before pouncing on an innocent lamb; it makes his heart beat faster, drowning his senses in quick waves of heavy lust.

“So pretty for me, baby, all laced up and fingered, wish you could see this.”

Billy gazes up through his lashes to meet Steve in their reflection. He grins with his tongue caught between teeth as he raises his hand just enough for Steve to have a moment of realisation before there’s a loud smack and stinging sensation.

“Mmh- ah! Fuck…” Steve barely manages to catch the moan with a bite of lips, his cock dripping with pre cum into the sink, whining with elation as the firm palm on his ass massages the red print.

A finger hooks itself on the slight string of the thong that runs between spread cheeks, pulls it aside, allowing Billy a good eyeful of Steve’s rim still wet with lube.

“You really just stood out in the shop in nothing but this, all slippery and ready for me to fuck your tight little hole with my fat cock?” He pulls on the fabric till it can’t stretch any further, wrapping it around a finger to allow himself freedom to grab on to Steve’s ass again. “Came all this way because you needed me to fill you up with my cum so bad.”

The blunt head of his cock lines up perfectly with Steve’s greedy entrance, and the poor, needy brunette can’t help but push against it, eyes fluttering closed as he slowly slides further and further along Billy’s dick, who hums with appreciation at the way the other is so willing to do all the work, velvety muscles clenching around him when he bottoms out.

“That good for you?” he asks kindly and squeezes Steve’s fleshy, pale cheeks.

Steve draws shallow circles with his ass pressed firmly against Billy’s hips, breathing in a manner that would be moans at home in bed, panting and sighing now; low drawn out hums. He sounds relieved, like Billy’s girthy cock was exactly what he needed, swallowing thickly as he nods, incapable of words lest they come out too loud.

Billy leans in to kiss up Steve’s shoulder, giving every mole on his way the attention they deserve, moves up his neck to the shell of his ear, snaking an arm around to hold Steve by the throat softly and tenderly.

“You’re so fucking tight, princess,” he purrs and nibbles at Steve’s ear as he leisurely starts moving his hips back and forth, adoring how breathless Steve looks in their reflection, mouth hanging open.

With his other hand he leaves a trail of oil stains up Steve’s stomach, leading to where Billy smoothes his fingers across shaved pecs, caressing the skin as he teases the frilly edges of the pink bralette, his every touch like fire igniting inside of Steve, his body tensing delightfully.

Billy squeezes tighter around Steve’s throat, a gesture that can be felt vividly in the way his wet dick pulsates and drips - pre cum running down his aching flesh to wet the thong even worse. The thrusts grow longer and deeper, Billy pulling out till just the head is inside, then tentatively pushes back in till he’s balls deep, and every time he runs over that certain spot inside of Steve a sensuous little gasp escapes those perfect lips.

“Look at what a mess you are, baby.” He brings them as close as possible - Steve’s back against his chest, rim choking around the base of his cock.

And Steve opens his eyes just enough to get a good view of how oil and grease has stained his pale skin and somewhat expensive lingerie, pastel roses and delicate embroidery defiled and tarnished beyond repair no doubt. His painfully hard dick that with a stroke or two would have him come undone. Billy’s crystal clear eyes that stare back intently; hungry- no, starved for this.

“A beautiful…” Billy kisses Steve’s neck with undeniable love and infatuation. “Needy…” Lips at the crook of his neck. “Desperate…” His shoulder. “Mess.”

Billy pulls out and slams back in so suddenly it barely leaves Steve time to catch his lucid gasp before it would have been heard from outside the door. Billy’s hips snap against Steve’s ass again and again at an indelicate pace, his teeth sunk into a shoulder as he bites back his moans, eyes trained on the way Steve’s brows knit together, eyes squeezed shut tight as he struggles with his own wanting to give sound to the burning desire lighting him up.

Skin slapping together, the obscenely wet sounds of Billy pounding Steve’s hole, ramming against that glorious sweet spot over and over, it’s intoxicating, fueling the white hot fire that coils at the bottom of Steve’s gut. Both of Billy’s hardened hands grab at Steve’s pecs, the skin of his fingers toughened up from fiddling with engines all day, rough against Steve’s sensitive nipples as Billy pulls down the bra to pinch and squeeze.

“Mmh ah- fuck-” Steve’s eyes roll back at the flourishing bliss that forms in his chest. “Billy…”

“Yeah, you like that?” A rhetorical question that barely receives an answer before Billy presses his dirty thumbs harder against the strutting buds.

Steve’s thighs tremble from it all, teeth biting at his lower lip as he fights every instinct to let it all out. And from the way Billy leers and grins mischievously at the sight in the mirror, there can be no doubt he knows.

Moves his hands to grab Steve’s hips with near bruising tension as he starts slamming into him, thrusting with intense fervor; the pace punishing and the sounds of how their bodies collide worse. Billy’s eyes are pinned to the spread of cheeks where his steely cock pounds into his boyfriend’s tight, slippery hole, his breathing ragged and tongue out wagging enthusiastically.

And Steve’s helplessly lost in his own euphoria of the moment; a hand flies up to clasp at his mouth, the other pressing against the mirror for the sake of balance so as to not get shoved against it whenever Billy rams inside, helping Steve inch closer and closer to climax, with breathless groans and grunts, sighs and whines, all too loud for such a public setting, yet not loud enough for such an intimate act.

Billy bends over to press his sweaty forehead against Steve’s shoulder, gaze still locked to where heat flares up at every plunge, at the way Steve’s body clings to his veiny dick.

“You’re so perfect like this, baby,” his voice rough like wet gravel, “So eager and greedy. Gonna cum in you, Stevie boy, fill you up till you’re ready to burst.”

“Please,” the self-restraint apparent in his tone. “I-I’m so close.”

Then there’s a hand in his hair, yanking and pulling his flushed face off of the mirror and back, his intense breathing fogging up the mirror as he struggles to keep hushed through his sudden orgasm that washes through him, the intensity blinding, his every nerve buzzing vividly at the unexpected release till there’s nothing left in him, but the sensation of Billy vigorously driving his girthy cock in and out, sending forth slight waves of static heat.

Till it comes to a stop with one forceful shove, the hand in his hair tightening, the fingers by his hip digging in, as Billy buries himself completely, pressing Steve against the sink till his thighs hurt from the porcelain edge jabbing him.

But it’s worth it to feel how every muscle flexes, Billy’s teeth closing around Steve’s shoulder to muffle his deep rooted moan that almost escapes in its entirety. Worth it when Billy comes down from his high and relaxes again, yet stays here like this, softening inside of Steve’s well used hole, arms wrapping around his chest to hold him close whilst they both catch their breaths.

Billy kisses gentle apologies across the imprints his teeth made on Steve’s skin, up his neck and as far across his cheek and jaw as he can reach from behind.

And Steve simply stands still, caught between his boyfriend’s broad figure and the white sink, convinced he would fall if Billy stepped back. He leans into the loving attention he’s receiving, every press of lips to his sweaty skin a blissful little source of tender satisfaction. When he finally opens his eyes again after having mindlessly drifted away in the afterglow, he just barely catches the way Billy glances down and grins in a rather humoured way.

“At least you got most of it in the sink,” he rumbles against Steve’s shoulder.

Looking down Steve sees his cum splattered into the sink, yet a few good drops made it up around the faucet and almost even to the wall. Yet his first thought is that he could have made it onto the mirror if he had jerked himself off to completion.

“Who’s going to clean it up?” Steve huffs a little laugh and meets Billy’s gaze in their reflection.

Who tries to hide his smile with kisses. “Hmmm I dunno, kinda wanna see what happens if we just leave it like this; who my boss is gonna blame for cumming in the employee’s bathroom.”

“Gross.”

“It’s yours, princess,” Billy chuckles out and rests his chin on Steve’s shoulder.

“So you’re saying I should clean up after myself?”

“Mhm, yup,” the p pops.

When something changes in Steve’s expression, a clear difference from one second to another, lids heavy as he turns his head to look at Billy with lips inches apart.

“Then it’s only fair that you clean up after yourself, too, don’t you think?”

#Harringrove #My writing #lemon #4.4k words #Including some public fun #Mechanic!Billy #and Steve in lace lingerie #It's also on ao3 if that's easier to read

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sohotthateveryonedied · 4 years ago

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Red Robin: Gourmet Burgers and Brews

Summary: Tim gets sued by a burger joint.

Read here on AO3!

“I can’t believe this.” “You had it coming, man.” “I can’t believe this.” “You got cocky. It happens.” Duke shrugs. “This is just the universe’s way of reminding you that the laws of society don’t cease to apply when you’re a trust fund baby who’s also the CEO of a billion-dollar company.” “But they don’t even know any of that! I could be poor for all they know.” “A poor guy with state-of-the-art equipment and weapons.” “Maybe I got it at the Salvation Army,” Tim says. “They don’t know me, they don’t know my life.” “How did you even get this?” Duke asks, picking up the thin pile of documents to look them over again. “I’m guessing they didn’t mail it here.” Tim sighs, pillowing his head on his arms where they rest on the tabletop. “A pizza guy delivered it to me while I was patrolling in the east district. Looked scared out of his mind when he talked to me.” “This is why I do the Tony Stark thing and never let people hand me things. Keeps you out of legal trouble.” Duke takes the document on top of the stack and starts folding it into an airplane. Tim frowns. “I thought his reason was a trauma thing.” “Whatever, I have trauma too. Like watching you freak out over getting served between ass-kickings. It’s terrifying.” “What’s going on?” Bruce asks as he enters the kitchen. He charts a path straight for the freezer, taking out a carton of his favorite banana ice cream—the devil of all ice creams. It’s an insult just to have it in the house. “Tim’s getting sued by Red Robin,” Duke says with glee. Tim drops his chin on the table in misery. “But...you’re Red Robin. Is this for some identity-protection scandal?” “Nope,” Tim says. He pushes the legal documents across the table. Bruce picks them up curiously. “The restaurant is suing me for violating their copyright restrictions. Apparently they got offended that I borrowed their name, even though I’m technically not the one who came up with the idea of Red Robin in the first place.” Bruce’s eyebrows raise as he peruses the details of the lawsuit. “Wow. They’re serious about this.” “Yep.” “Are you going to fight it?” Tim shrugs. “I mean, I have to, right? I can’t just come up with a new name and costume design willy-nilly. Plus, I just started getting recognized as Red Robin. No more being called ‘the new guy’ in newspaper headlines. I can’t just give that up.” “For the record,” Duke says, holding up a finger, “I called this months ago.” “You did not.” “Oh, yeah? Ask Jason. I bet him fifty bucks three months ago that the Red Robin chain would sue your ass before the new year. Perfect timing, too. I can use the money to fix my Signal-cycle.” “You need to stop calling it that.” “I will never stop calling it that.” “I’m sure you can work this out with the company’s board,” Bruce says. “The Wayne Foundation can donate a few thousand dollars to their Gotham branch or something. Easy fix.” Tim rolls his eyes. “Oh, yeah, because they’ll never question why Bruce Wayne of all people is trying to solve a vigilante’s problems with money.” Bruce shrugs. “Well, I tried.” He goes to the silverware drawer for a spoon, effectively abandoning his son’s crisis. Duke folds another paper into a lopsided crane that, if anything, looks more like a demented pterodactyl. “You could always sell out and endorse them.” “What does that even mean?” “You know, buy a few burgers. Do a commercial or two. Get their logo printed on your cape. Advertising goes a long way in the world of business.” Tim snorts. “Yeah, like I’ll just go and turn my vigilante career into an advertising platform. I don’t even eat at Red Robin.” “Doesn’t seem like you have much of a choice,” Bruce chimes in, eating his disgusting banana ice cream straight out of the carton. “Unless you want to figure out a new identity and color scheme.” “Hm.” Tim strokes his chin, as if he has any hope of ever growing a beard. Maybe it is time I get an original nom de plume. I’ve been riding Jason’s coattail my whole life, first with Robin and now Red Robin. I should do something original for once.” He squints in thought. “Like...the Goose. I can wear a white costume with a feathered cape. It’ll be cool, like ABBA.” Duke makes a face. “That’s an image I’ll never get out of my head.” “Or I could do a dragon theme, like a dark green color scheme with scaly leather boots. And a tail!” “Do you want me to vomit? Is that your goal here?” Tim throws a balled-up napkin at him. “Fuck off, it’s a good idea.” “Because all of Gotham wants to watch you parade around in scaly leather kinkwear.” “Why not? Bruce does it.” “I’m leaving this conversation now,” Bruce announces. “Good luck with your legal troubles, Tim.” “I’ve got it!” Tim says after he’s gone, snapping his fingers. “Drake!” “Drake?” “Drake. It’s perfect.” “No.” “Why not?” “It’s too obvious.” “Which is precisely why it’s perfect. No one will suspect a thing.” Duke can’t believe that he ever thought Tim was the smart one. Nobody in this family is the smart one; they all share a single brain cell and Barbara has full custody of it. “When people google you, the only results they get will be of the rapper. Is that really what you want your legacy to be?” “That’s...actually a good point.” Tim clicks his tongue in disappointment. “Damn it.” “If you call up the Red Robin corporation I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to hear you want to advertise for them,” Duke says. “Just saying.” “No. No way. Mark my words, Duke—I will never sink so low as to publicly endorse a burger joint while taking down criminals. I’m an adult. I have pride. And I can come up with a way to get out of this lawsuit without selling out to capitalism.” -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Knock it off.” “Hold still, Timbo. I need to get a good picture of this.” “It’s not funny.” “It is very funny. It’s like an early birthday present, just for me.” Jason snaps a few more pictures with his phone, not even trying to be subtle about it. His helmet is off so Tim can properly see his shit-eating grin. “This might just be the best day of my entire life.” “You’re an ass.” “And you’re a dork with a gourmet burgers and brews logo on your back. You’re in no position to be judging anyone.” “It’s only for a month,” Tim reminds him. “All I have to do is patrol with this every night and eat at the restaurant in costume once a week. Then I’m free.” Jason laughs. “Yeah, I’m definitely sending this to the entire superhero community. They are going to lose their fucking minds.” “You wouldn’t dare.” Tim lunges for the phone, but Jason is half a foot taller and keeps it just out of reach. “Too late, it’s already sent.” “I hate you.” “Fine, fine, I’ll make it up to you. How about we get dinner, on me?” Jason’s grin widens. “Say...at Red Robin?” “Choke on shit and die.”

#i'm a serious writer clearly #this was barely edited whoops #batfamily #batfam #tim drake #red robin #robin #idiot duckboy #duke thomas #dc signal #bruce wayne #batman #jason todd #red hood #fanfiction #fanfic

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overheardatthecontinental · 4 years ago

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Talk Now Complete

Over the last three months, I have dedicated a huge chunk of my limited free time to writing this piece. What started out as a possible kinktober one-shot was side-tabled as I realized it had potential to be an actual story. Now, twenty chapters and 103,723 words later I am thrilled to say that this installment is complete.

I’ve already begun a second installment of this series which will pick up at the start of John’s retirement. I’m hoping to have the first chapter out within the week.

Thank you so much to everybody who liked, commented, and supported me during this story and a huge thank you to @meetmeinthematinee for helping me edit and review this beast.

AO3 Talk Link

Chapter 20 Link

A new start.

That was what she had deemed it. For both of them.

John went around the city. Closing accounts. Transferring mountains of coins into actual money. Saying silent goodbyes to the places that had defined him for a lifetime. And stashing markers, money, and weapons. Just in case.

He hopes he will never have to use them.

And, while he does that, Helen packs up her house.

The decision to move in together came approximately two days after returning from Vermont. They’d wasted enough time, they both decided. “And, ” Helen had teased, “God forbid we decide to spend a night apart, I already know you’ll sneak in to watch me sleep. ”

Minx.

“I’m more than happy to sell my place.” He had told her.

“You’ve given up your entire life for me. ” She had argued, gently running her hand through his hair. “I’ll give up the house. Besides, if you think I’m giving up your hot tub, you’re fucking dreaming.”

And that had been that.

They’d driven to her house, stopping to pick up boxes and tape and bubble wrap, and started packing up.

She made some calls around the city, looking for charities to donate some of her furniture to. John’s bed, she had discovered, was far more comfortable than hers. And they didn’t need multiple dining room tables or sets of cookware or dishes.

John borrowed a truck from Aurelio and, with his and Marcus’ help, started dropping things off across the city.

In the remaining days of her “recovery”/vacation, they manage to empty most of her little house. And while their house (he will never get used to the sheer joy that fills him at that descriptor) is now a mess of boxes and suitcases, it has never felt more like home.

He laughs at the three boxes of shoes Helen has to unpack, only to have to dodge a high heel used as a projectile.

He revels in the way she unpacks her sweaters and dresses to hang across from his clothes.

He also takes a great deal of pleasure when he finds the small box, once hidden away in the back of her closet, containing a number of delightful little toys. He gets another shoe thrown at him as he practically begs for details.

Helen laughs and offers a private demonstration… once her books are shelved in the library. John scrambles to fulfill her every wish.

One of the benefits of Helen having her own practice was that she could really do whatever the hell she wanted. She had reached out to all her clients first thing on Monday to apologize for her absence, reporting that she had been the victim in a hit-and-run, leaving her in a coma for the better part of the week. While she was doing much better, she told them, she still needed another week for recovery.

Of course, the Underworld had bought out half the cops in the city. A quick call from John Wick and shit was being filed exactly how he demanded it to be. Doctor’s notes were forged, along with hospital ‘records.’ That part was easy.

What had been much more complicated, John discovered, was dealing with the missing person’s out on Helen and it throws his world off kilter, yet again.

Her family had been terrified. While Helen wasn’t exactly in constant contact with them, the police had reached out after a concerned associate of Helen’s reported her missing. Unable to contact her, her parents and sister had been in a frenzy.

Using the phone that John had paid for, insisting that he buy her a new one since it was his enemy who had destroyed hers, she reluctantly calls her mother.

“Mom, I am begging you, stay home. I’m fine.”

“We’ve been so worried!” John hears her mother sobbing on the other side of the line, “A hit-and-run, oh, sweetheart!”

And if that’s her mother’s reaction from a hit-and-run, John doesn’t want to know what her mother would do if she ever found out the truth.

Kidnapped, held hostage, marked for death…

The poor woman might have a heart attack.

“You’re still recovering! You need someone to take care of you!”

“I have someone taking care of me.” Helen had said, and at that moment, John had indeed been massaging her shoulders. His lips had twitched in response.

He was the one taking care of her.

He would be the one taking care of her forever.

It made him giddy to think about.

“Who?”

They hadn’t discussed labels. It all seemed sort of unnecessary after all they had been through. But when Helen makes the executive decision and says, “my boyfriend” John wonders if he’s the one having a heart attack with the way his own is beating so hard it feels like it might burst at any moment.

Boyfriend.

He’d never been a boyfriend before. He’d never had any interest in being a boyfriend before. A term he’d never imagined being applied to him but now that it was…

He was a boyfriend.

He was Helen’s boyfriend.

He’s filled with pride and affection and so much love he doesn’t know what to do. She leans into him, reaching up to where his hands have stopped massaging as he attempts to process her words. And because she’s Helen and she knows him better than he knows himself, she squeezes his hand.

Grounding him.

But, of course, her confession to her mother opens another avenue of questions. What boyfriend? How long have you been seeing each other? Why haven’t you mentioned him before?

To which Helen answers respectively his name is John. We met seven months ago. And because who I date and when I decide to share that information is my choice .

It’s another half an hour of questioning before Helen manages to talk her way off of the phone after wrangling a promise that her mother would not fly to New York. In return, Helen was to send her daily text updates on her health.

Her sister was another matter. Living only an hour away in Trenton, her sister insisted on driving up. It ended up working well, however. While he had testified without a single problem, John hadn’t had the time to meet with Tarasov.

So Wednesday, Helen agreed to meet her sister for lunch while John had gone to meet with a mob boss.

John arrives at Tarasov’s compound and, once again, finds himself subject to stares.

They had always been there. The Baba Yaga was the focal of fascination for a great many, but most had always tried to hide the attention they paid to the man, the monster. But since Helen’s existence had been made known, he’s found himself front and center everywhere he goes.

And it had only become worse after being questioned by the High Table on the DeLuca’s and their involvement. While John had repeatedly stated he would not answer questions regarding his relationship with Helen, it didn’t stop the questions from coming.

During the trial and afterwards, members of the High Table had tried to push. John had given them nothing.

John is silent as he walks up to Viggo’s office.

The last tie to sever.

While Abram was scared enough of John Wick to let him go without a fight, John was certain that Viggo’s ambition would rise to the occasion.

After all, hadn’t John Wick done the impossible? He had brought down Syndicate and saved the girl with every odd stacked against him.

And now Viggo wanted a piece of that.

The impossible.

And John will do it. Of course, he will do anything if it means being released.

Retirement is so close he can taste it as he steps into the familiar office, closing the door behind him.

Viggo Tarasov sits at his desk, setting his paper aside as John takes a seat in front of him.

“John.” Viggo greets, “I was surprised to hear from you.”

John inclines his head. Viggo was full of shit.

Lorenzo had shared with his children that he had released John Wick of his contract following the trial. The rest of the Underworld knew by sundown. John was certain that Viggo was well aware of John’s intentions in this meeting.

“I’m retiring.” John says, truly not in the mood for games.

Viggo nods in response to the news, clearly expecting John’s announcement. “Very few people retire from our world.”

“Because most are dead long before they reach my age.”

“I’m older than you.”

“You have a desk job.” John points out, aware that his status is the only reason he can get away with saying such things to Viggo Tarasov.

Viggo waves a hand vaguely, “You’ve never had interest in a desk job.”

“Nor do I now. However, I still intend to live a while longer. In peace.”

“Peace.” Viggo says, testing the word on his tongue, “That must be a foreign concept to a man like you.”

A year ago, John would have agreed with him.

Hell, eight months ago, John would have agreed with him.

And while his experiences were still limited, he already had a glimpse of peace. In the weekly visits he had paid to Helen’s office. In the quiet of the night as he meditated to each and every intake and exhale of breath.

Now, John knew peace in the moments before his alarm went off and he held Helen close to him. He knew peace in the way she wrapped herself around him as he made her coffee. He knew peace in the way her head rested on his shoulder or in the soft flips of pages as Helen read by his side. He knew peace in the moments where she held him.

“I’m aware you hold my contract,” John says, ignoring Viggo’s comment. “I am more than willing to buy it out.”

A longshot, John knew.

Viggo tilts his head to the side, like he’s considering it. Yet John knows, from that single action, that Viggo already has something in mind. Something he wants done that only John Wick can manage. John just fucking wishes he’d get to the point instead of treating this like a game.

“At this time, your contract is not for sale.” Viggo says, “However, there is a task I have in mind. A bit… difficult, to say the least. But, should you complete this for me, I would be more than willing to release you from your contract.”

There it is.

“What do you have in mind?”

“It’s a bit of an impossible task…”

…

When John arrives home and he’s relieved to find Helen’s car parked out front. He makes a mental note to install a garage opener in her car as soon as possible.

John quickly goes inside, not wasting any time. The desire to set eyes on her is overwhelming and he wonders how he managed to only see her at night for months on end.

He’s not certain he can ever again go longer than hours without seeing her, touching her.

Helen has become an addiction.

When he doesn’t find her in the living room or the kitchen, he goes upstairs. Sure enough, she is in the library, kneeling in front of a bookcase as her fingers trace over the spines.

“How was lunch?” He asks and Helen’s lips twitch.

With anyone else, he might have scared them. Even in his own home, he tends to walk lightly so as not to be noticed. But she’s always had that sixth sense about him. It brings him an absurd amount of happiness to know that she understands and sees him.

“It was fine.” She reaches a hand up. John takes it and helps tug her back to her feet. “Got a bit of the third degree but I suppose I can’t blame her for being curious, all things considered.”

On tiptoes, she gives him a quick kiss. “How was Tarasov?”

“As expected,” John says.

Helen hums as she looks him over, “Indirect answer.”

“It could be worse.” John tries again.

“Now you’re being evasive.”

She had warned him life would be like this. She’s spent the better part of her life learning to read people and despite being an enigma to most of the world, John Wick is an open book to Helen.

He can’t bring himself to be upset when they both knew this was exactly how it was going to be.

“He wants me to complete a rather difficult task.”

“How dangerous is this going to be?” She asks, folding her arms over her stomach.

She did that when she was worried, John had noticed. He hates that it’s him causing her such stress but comforts himself with the fact that this will be the last time.

“Fairly.” Helen’s face is that unique mix of impassive and empathetic that he was used to seeing in her office. He steps forward, catching her chin in his hand and drawing up her face. “I’ll be fine.” He promises.

She gives him a small smile and nods. She’s scared, he knows. And he is too. He’s never had so much to lose.

“What does he want?”

He wants to shake his head and tell her not to worry about it. But he knows exactly how that conversation will go if he tries.

“There are a few rival Russian gangs that Viggo wants control of.”

“A few?” Her brows shoot up.

Maybe he should have phrased that better.

While he’s unsurprised by Viggo’s demands given the opportunity to manipulate the Baba Yaga, Helen worries. She used to joke that it was her job to worry—that he paid her good money for such. And he would smile and promise to see her next week.

But things had changed so much since DeLuca.

She understood a little bit more just what John was capable of. In the moments when she had been in DeLuca’s grasp, John had learned a bit more of what he was capable of.

But in understanding that, she grew more worried. When it came to her, they both knew that he was capable of anything .

And that made him reckless, to a degree.

“It goes both ways, John.” She told him when he had first explained what it would take to actually retire, what he might need to do to be released by the Tarasov’s. “You worry about me constantly, but I worry about you too. Do you really think I would be okay if something happened to you?”

“You could move on.” He had replied, “I know you would hurt, but you could go on living your life.”

“For one of the smartest people I know, you’re an idiot, John. I would be devastated if something happened to you, if I lost you.”

“It’s different.”

“Like hell it is. Do you know how many nights I used to lie awake until you would get to my house because I was so paranoid, so scared that something would happen to you?” Helen had shaken her head, “Or that I used to spend my Friday’s in an anxious blur, terrified that one day you just weren’t going to show up. That you’d just… be gone.”

“It’s different. ” John had maintained, “ Hels, you’re—you’re all I have.”

And that was just a fact. Without him, Helen would have her family, her friends, her work.

But without her… what would he be?

“It will be fine.” He promises, reaching out to tuck a lock of hair back from where it had fallen in her face. It assures him that she is real and safe when his thoughts start to overwhelm him, “This is more of a point-and-shoot kind of gig. Just with a lot of moving targets.”

An impossible number of moving targets. He forgoes saying as much, still trying to formulate a plan in his mind on how he’s going to pull this off.

“Is there a timeline?”

Technically, no. Viggo hadn’t given him any sort of indication of when he wanted it completed, but John was strongly in favor of doing it as quickly as possible. The sooner the task was completed, the sooner he was free.

And, oh, what a thought that was.

“Friday.” He answers aloud. Two days away. It would give him the time to prepare, because once he started, he could not stop until he was done.

She nods, leaning her head against his hand.

He hates that he is responsible for making her worry. John pulls her into a hug, wrapping her in his arms securely.

“Come on,” he kisses the top of her head, “Let’s go pack some more of your books to bring over.”

She brightens visibly at that and they make another trip to her house.

While Helen desperately needs the distraction, John realizes it’s just as beneficial for him. It reassures him, just as her touch does, that she’s real. That this is actually happening and not just some coma dream, which he felt might be more realistic.

They spend Thursday much the same way. While he’s tried to tempt Helen to take another week of vacation, she only shakes her head and says, “It wouldn’t be fair to my clients .”

Marcus comes over to help.

“Helen, if he’s blackmailing you into moving in with him, I can get you help. Blink once.”

The older assassin dodges multiple projectiles from multiple directions, laughing all the while.

“I’m serious! You can do better!”

It’s a joke, and John knows that, but he still appreciates the extra affection she shows him. Like she knows that John still lays awake at night, wondering if he was good enough for her. But she slips under his arm, resting against his chest while she shoots back, “Forgive me for not taking advice from a man who’s still in a committed relationship with his daddy issues.”

He makes a sound of pain even as he grins, “Low blow, Kingston.”

“Come at my man, I’ll come for your life.”

My man echoes around in John’s head for hours after that and Marcus’ teasing was soon forgotten.

After that declaration, his hands, which were impossibly steady when aiming a gun or striking a blow, were shaky. He had to talk himself through wrapping up her décor so as not to break it.

They loaded up the borrowed truck, driven by Marcus, as well as stuffing her SUV full.

“Hope you don’t change your mind about him, because I am not doing this again.” Marcus complains after he and John manage to get her loveseat into the back of the pickup.

“I’m not concerned.” She says and the conviction in her words and her tone leaves John all the more in love with her.

Good , he thinks. He is no longer strong enough to let her go.

John watches with fascination and awe as he hears a dog bark and watches as her eyes light up. An older man approaches with a golden retriever pulling on its leash trying to reach Helen. He recognizes the dog from the neighborhood, having seen it be taken outside late at night from a few houses over.

The dog breaks free of the owner, tearing the leash from his hand, bolting towards Helen.

Grinning, Helen drops down low and braces for the contact. “Hey, Buddy.” She says, scratching the pup behind the ears as the dog pants excitedly.

“Sorry, Helen!”

“No worries,” She calls back to the owner, “You know I’m always down for a Buddy-snuggle.”

Marcus snorts and mutters to John, “How easily you can be replaced.”

John rolls his eyes, smiling all the while as she coos to the dog lovingly. He thinks back to the first time she met, showing him pictures of her favorite dogs. He had been almost surprised that she didn’t have one of her own.

With a final pet to the stop of Buddy’s head, she sends him back over to the owner with a wave, before climbing back to her feet.

A part of him was reluctant to share her but he could imagine, maybe somewhere down the line, getting a dog with Helen. He thinks she would like that, the potential images flipping through his head and filling him with an unexpected warmth.

“Should have guessed you were a dog person,” Marcus says.

“Always have been.” She replies, slipping back under John’s arms. Even with moving furniture and boxes, it’s still cold outside. He tucks his chin to her head and wraps his arms around her.

“Makes sense given your choice in partner.”

She throws Marcus a look, but he holds up his hands defensively.

“Not like that! No need to bring my daddy issues into this. Just meant he’s got some of those qualities. Unwavering loyalty, literally the definition of a dog with a bone when it comes to you. Protective, but a little bit stupid.”

“Thanks, Marcus.” John says, rolling his eyes yet again.

“I prefer dogs to people, anyway.” Helen says, patting his arm. “Far less complicated. They don’t make muddles out of things the way we do. And they’re far less self-interested.”

“All this, coming from the only one of us who works with humans for a living.”

She grins at that, “It’s why I can say, without a doubt, that dogs are better than people.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be hyper-empathic to the human experience?”

“I can be. And there is a lot about said human experience that I admire,” Helen says, “We’re an incredibly resilient species. The mind can handle just about anything, which is remarkable when you think about it. And we’ve worked to build societies based on mutual respect and social currency. There’s drama and endless uphill battles, struggles and triumphs, and a capacity for healing unseen in any other creatures,” She shrugs, “But there’s something to be said for just living . Simply, at that.”

He feels his arms tightening around her as he presses a kiss to her head.

He loves her more than he’ll ever be able to express. Helen leans to the side so her face is just below his and kisses him once more.

“I’m going to finish with my room.” She tells him and slips out of his arms. He watches as she walks back into the house.

She’s giving it up for him. Her home, her space.

It’s still so surreal.

“She’s incredible.” Marcus says softly.

“I don’t deserve her.”

“No, you don’t.” His friend smiles, “Luckily, she loves you anyway.”

It was strange to think that they had only declared their love for each other a week ago. A single week of verbally and physically expressing their love for one another.

It simultaneously felt like an eternity and no time at all.

John heads back into the house, following her path to her bedroom. Her clothes and jewelry had already been packed but her furniture, along with a handful of other things, was left behind. She had washed her sheets earlier and was packing them in a box marked donations .

He takes one end of the sheet and helps her start to fold the next.

The question pours from him before he can even think about it.

“Would you like a dog?” John asks, “You know, someday?”

She steps forward, collecting the sheet, an eyebrow raised in surprise. “Would you want a dog?”

John shrugs, truly uncaring. “I like dogs.”

“But there’s a difference between liking dogs and wanting a dog. Would you actually want to have a pet? In your perfectly kept, immaculate house?”

He feels like he shouldn’t say I want whatever you want because he doesn’t want to burden her with all the decisions, but truthfully, the only thing in life he wants is to make her happy. The little details don’t matter to him so much as giving her the opportunity to smile.

“I wouldn’t mind either way,” he says as she folds it one last time and places it in the box with the others, “And the house is immaculate because I barely spend time there.”

She considers it for a moment, and he feels his heart flutter with the twitch of her lips. “Yeah. Someday. Maybe we adopt an older dog. I’ve always had a soft spot for the rejects.”

“Makes sense.” John teases and she rolls her eyes.

“I swear, John Wick, if you make another orphan joke…”

He grins, stepping into her space. He catches her face in his hands and draws her in for a kiss.

Her soft lips yield to him and he will never understand what he has done to deserve such grace. But he swears to himself that he will never take for granted her presence or her touch or her love.

This is happiness. It’s also only the beginning.

…

Friday comes, as it must.

John had wondered if he would feel nervous or anxious for his final mission, his last task. Instead, he wakes up feeling eerily calm.

He’s never been so grateful for something to end. But then, he’s never had a beginning to look forward to.

Helen, he finds, is far more nervous than he is.

“Should you be resting?” She asks as he takes down some of his own books so he can move the shelves around. He wouldn’t be leaving until sunset, much preferring to use the cover of darkness to hide his presence.

“I’ll be fine.” He assures her. He’s gone on countless missions without sleeping or after only getting a few hours here and there to keep him going. Truthfully, having slept a full eight hours the night before is more than he usually gets.

But he knows it’s not enough to stop her from worrying so John distracts her. First with planning out their new library. When that didn’t hold her attention enough, he switched to distracting her with his body.

A sacrifice he was more than willing to make.

He fucked her in the library before carrying her to the bedroom to take her again. And Helen was insatiable, much to his delight. But fucking her to the point of exhaustion took far more out of him than he anticipated.

By the time she’s finally too tired to carry on, John finds himself closing his eyes and resting his head in the crook of her neck.

Her fingers trace the back of his neck as she whispers, “Gotcha.”

She really is brilliant, he thinks, as John finds himself manipulated into napping.

He wakes up feeling far more rested and newly motivated to go out and come back home. To never be forced to leave her side again, so long as they both lived.

It’s all so close.

Helen runs her hand over his hair.

“Thank you for making me sleep.” He teases softly.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Liar.”

Helen grins at that, leaning forward to kiss him.

This , he thinks, this is what waits for him on the other side of the night.

It motivates him anew.

John showers and dresses. His traditional three-piece, he hopes to never wear again. For her sake, he leaves the tie on the bureau.

John slips a small gun into his ankle holster, a knife into his sock. He chooses his weapons carefully as he prepares for the night ahead of him.

One last time.

Leaving is so very different than it had always been. Rather than heading straight from his room to his car, he detours to find his partner. To see her, to kiss her before he goes.

He can hear conversation flowing from the kitchen as he reaches the bottom of the stairs and blinks in surprise.

Marcus.

He slips into the kitchen and watches as Helen rummages around in the fridge before pulling out and handing Marcus a beer.

Marcus, he thinks, is probably the person he would miss the most. One of his oldest friends. One of the first people he ever learned to trust.

Someone he would soon have to say goodbye to, along with everyone else.

A large brown paper bag sits in front of him on the kitchen counter.

“Marcus.” John greets as he steps into the kitchen.

“John.” Marcus uses the edge of the counter to pry the bottle cap off. “Everything in place?”

John nods. He had weapons stored around the city and Santino would be assisting. John had been reluctant to make a deal with the mafioso when he was so close to retirement but there were too many moving parts for what Tarasov had asked for John to accomplish it alone.

Santino swore, so long as John stayed out of the Underworld, he would not use the marker John had promised him. But, should he ever step foot back, he was fair game.

He almost felt bad for Santino. He would never go back to that life. Not while he had Helen.

“Didn’t know you were coming over.” John comments, watching as Helen opens a bottle of wine for herself.

“Somebody’s got to keep your girl from losing her mind.”

“It’s an important job.” Helen jokes, smiling up at John. “I was afraid I was going to go stir-crazy waiting here at home.”

He can understand that. He had nearly gone insane in hours after she had been kidnapped.

John holds open an arm for her, and she wraps around him, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“What are you two going to do?” He asks.

“Marcus brought Thai food,” she gestures to the paper bag, “And we’re going to get drunk then watch and score kung-fu movies bloodlust, technique, and general sexiness.”

John smiles down at Helen, wondering how he ever managed to make it day to day without her. “Sounds like fun.”

“We’re starting with Enter the Dragon. Which I’m going to go get set up.” Helen stands on tiptoes and gives John a quick kiss, before grabbing her wine glass and heading to the living room.

“Last mission.” Marcus says.

John nods again, “It is.”

“How do you feel?”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Helen.” John jokes, thinking of all the times his girlfriend had asked him that very same question, “But I feel ready.”

“Nervous?”

“Not even a little.”

“Good.” Marcus glances to where she had exited, “I worried in the beginning. That you weren’t thinking clearly; that she didn’t have what it takes to be involved with an assassin. I’m glad I was wrong on both counts.”

John looks down because he really doesn’t know how to have this conversation. He’d said his goodbyes to Sofia, to Winston, to Charon. To the few members of the Underworld that mattered to him. But this is one he just doesn’t know how to say.

Marcus has had his back for two decades. He’d been his friend and confidant. The only person on the planet John had felt he could trust Helen to when his life fell apart. The man who, even now, was devoting his time to helping Helen.

“We know the rules,” Marcus says quietly, “That after tonight… we go our separate ways…”

“I wish it didn’t have to be like that.” John says just as softly.

He’s told Helen, explained it to her.

She had been angry, at first. That John was being forced to give up his friends along with everything else. That the Underworld was so unwavering and rigid with their rules and expectations. Then, she had been sad. Then guilty.

She promised she would love him whether he left the Underworld or not and he believed her. But the life he wanted… it was for both of them. And it didn’t involve looking over their shoulders every moment of every day. He wanted to take her to dinner and not worry that the man two tables over was packing. To go to the farmer’s market without wondering if someone was going to attack.

He told her again and again that this was his decision. That he was the one deciding to part ways in order to have the life that he wanted.

And he has no regrets.

There was nothing he wouldn’t sacrifice for that life.

“Me too. But… you’re making the right choice, John.” Marcus assures him. “And I know that we won’t be able to go get a beer or hang out but write to me now and then. Send me the announcement if you ever convince that beautiful woman to marry you.”

John nods, “I will.”

“Good.”

And maybe it’s because it’s goodbye, or maybe Helen has made him completely soft, but John walks across the room and hugs his friend.

“Thank you. For everything.”

Marcus nods, “Just… live well. Take care of each other.”

“We will.”

They part and John leaves Marcus to sort through the takeout he had brought with him. John follows Helen into the living room. She is using the remote to type in a password, standing barefoot in the middle of the sunken section.

John takes the two steps down. Helen glances up as he does. He watches her swallow.

“Time to go?” She asks softly and he nods.

She tosses the remote to the side and throws her arms around him. Her grip is impossibly tight, but he doesn’t mind. He’s never felt more loved than when her arms are around him.

“You’ll be careful out there?” her voice breaks a bit as she asks the same question, she asked every single week before he left the safety of her office. Right before John went out to venture into the Underworld.

“I promise.” He kisses the top of her head.

She breathes a soft sigh of relief. Helen leans back, looking up at him even if she doesn’t release her arms. “Because if you’re not back by morning, I’m coming after you.”

“I’ll be back.”

Partially because there was no way in Hell he was ever letting her become involved with the Underworld again but mostly because she was his home. The only one he had ever known.

John catches her jaw in his hand and angles her face upward and teases, “It will be over soon. This time next week, you’ll be so annoyed with me, you’ll be wishing you could send me back.”

“Never.” She says even as she smiles. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He kisses her lips, giving himself a moment to be completely consumed by her. To memorize, once more, her smell and touch and taste. He’ll take her with him everywhere he goes and hold on to the memory to guide him back home.

With a final, soft kiss on lips he releases her. To leave her side one last time. He walks back up the steps to the leveled floor. He reaches out for the handle to the garage door.

“John?” She says and he glances back, “Come home to me.”

His lips twitch as he opens the door, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With the morning comes their promise of forever.

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thotsforvillainrights · 3 years ago

Text

~Pivitol~

Summary: Life is good when you do good, or when you see good. When you act in good...put good in, get good out. However, the devil has a funny way at sending temptation right to your doorway. Unfortunately for Kai, he answered that call.

Chapter: 12

Warnings: None

“Are you going to stand around all day and watch me dust pictures and shelves?”

“Oh well...no but...”

“But?”

“Uh nothing. I suppose I just don’t feel like going back to work when you’re around. Honestly having you here feels like a mini vacation for me.”

“I’m glad you think that way about me but I don’t think Pops will be so happy to know his successor is slacking off on the job. If the yakuza is anything like the books and the movies, you should be out running the streets and doing gangster stuff by now haha!”

“Yeah but the times have changed.” He leaned against the walls and watched you go to town with the duster, never missing a single inch or corner. “Lately we were struggling to keep afloat upon staying relevant with the coming age of heroes and villains. At one point, the Hassaikai was almost nothing. Given some time and effort, I’ve just barely managed to drag us from the shadows with other groups following our path as well. It doesn’t even feel like we’re gangsters anymore. The only thing we do now are shakedowns and such. Sometimes it comes with the occasional turf war here and there. A few groups still push product here and there...yknow...drugs. But us? We’re damn near a charity organization now. I do a shit ton of paperwork and taxes. We donate to parts of the city and make sure the streets we own stay clear of any unfamiliar threats. I can’t say I enjoy the philanthropic changes but anything is better than letting the organization sink. Besides, Pops is pleased to know we’ve changed direction nowadays too.”

“You know, I’m glad too. Now please go to work.” He just barely dodged the playful jab at his sides. He smiled, bid his goodbyes, and headed down to the lower part of the base as usual. Upon entry he was already greeted by Chrono with a suitcase of what he assumed had to be either money or more paperwork. “Overhaul, you’re a bit late for once huh? It’s usually me haha.” Chrono joked and Kai sighed. “You’re rather bold to comment on my time frame when you came in an hour late last Friday under the excuse that you were stuck in traffic.” He spoke and walked, grabbing the suitcase and mentally taking note of it’s weight.

Money this time. How delightful. Perhaps he could buy you a nice gift to thank you for always spending time with him?

“Hey! I’ll have you know that I wasn’t lying about that traffic dude. It was absolute ass the entire drive. Well anyway, there’s some guy waiting on your line. He’s been waiting for you for almost 30 minutes. He said it was something important about a business proposition or whatever? Anyway, he must be telling the truth for him to actually stay on the line that long.”

“And why didn’t you link him my cellphone line then, if it was so important?”

“Pshhh, and risk having you on my ass for giving out your personal number? No way in hell. Anyway, let me know later what it is. I’m going to be heading out with Hojo, Tabe, and Setsuno today to make peace with that group on the west end of the city that keeps threating our men. Catch you later.” And just like that, Hari was gone and on his way out of the hall. Kai took a second to gather himself and placed the suitcase down next to his desk before answering the phone. “Hello, is this Chisaki Kai?”

“This is he. Who are you and what can I help you with.” He mentally groaned at the incoming conversation. One could only hope it’s not another bum looking to get in on their terf, or some sort of tax collector from the IRS. “Glad I can finally make your acquaintance Mr. Chisaki. This is Tado of the Matsufuda branch. I was actually hoping to come and meet you in person but one of your main men told me now wouldn’t be a good time seeing as the old boss is out on business and you’re all alone.” The man chuckled and Kai squinted his eyes in speculation. “What is that supposed to mean then? Did you figure I couldn’t balance things without Pops being here? Need I remind you who you’re talking to?” He started to heat up until the man on the other line laughed. “Now now, no need to get testy so soon boy! The suitcase, do you have it?” Kai paused and looked down at the case in curiosity. “Yes. Was it you that sent this?” He asked, eyeing the case intently. “Correct. Inside that case you will not only find a gift from us, but you will also find it to be a wonderful new business venture as well. I have the utmost confidence it will double the Hassaikai’s monetary wealth in no time while also producing quite a bit of street credit.” The man rambled on while Kai was cautiously opening the case.

Not money on the inside but...pills???

“What the hell is this supposed to be, a joke?”

“No joke Mr. Chisaki! It’s the future is what it is! My organization has developed a new drug and we predict it will be the craze among the youth around here. After creating it, we sent it on a trial test run throughout the nearby city. Our plan was to sell for more than it had cost us to make the drug. The money we got was outstanding in return. Just from the test trial alone, we gained almost triple back in funds. More money than we’d ever make following this new peaceful ‘grey area’ path your group has set in stone. What I’ve included in the case is more than enough of the new drug for your group to distribute on your end of the city. Charge more than retail, get us our percent of the money and you guys keep the rest. It’s genius! What do you say?”

“...I’m sorry...I don’t deal drugs anymore. You’ll have to ask a different person for this.” Just before he was about to hang up the phone, the man stopped him. “WAIT! Just hear me out. How about this eh? What about you keep the suitcase full and keep ALL of the profit you make from it then? It will be like a free sample of course. Once you see how much it benefits you, then you can contact me for a new run. How is that?” A long pause with no answer. Was he really sitting here and thinking about this right now? He had only been clean from selling drugs and such for a month or two. In that time, it was you that made him want to stop all of this. Since the moment he met you, he slowly began to change his path...his very steps. Yet...here temptation was knocking on his door. He paused to do the math and there was no question that the money that would come in would be more than they could make in a month on their own. It would be a nice little bonus in the pockets of his men as well. “Just get back to me when you run out. Tell me what you think then.” The line hung up and went idle. Kai mindlessly hung up the phone but his eyes never left the case. He stared at the tiny pink pills for what seemed like ages before finally snapping out of it.

“Just a weeks worth of pushing it. We’ll see where it goes from there.”

»—————————–———————————————————–✄

TIp Jar: https://cash.app/$YuTakeyama

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #pivitol #Pivital #Pivotal #kai chisaki x reader #overhaul

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