#i should pull it up on the thieves den

[wedonthaveawhile]

When she says my name.

Garreth Weasley x F!MC (18+)

Garreth finds himself entangled with the heroine of Hogwarts. As their encounters become habit, they devolve into a game of power dynamics and possession.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, possesive!Garreth, dominant!Garrreth, public sex, dirty talk, aged-up characters, unrequited love, pining.

AO3 // Word count: 3k

Garreth picked at the splintered wood on his broom from a recent tussle with a bludger, scanning the courtyard intermittently for any trace of his Quidditch team. Their head of house had recently delivered a stern criticism about their hero complex. Apparently, each member was too focused on personal glory, neglecting the importance of working as a cohesive team.

He eventually detected a figure on a broom, although quickly realised they displayed a level of nimble grace far beyond what he'd expect from one of his lumbering teammates. Hogwarts' resident hero was evidently making a return from one of her mysterious outings.

His eyes swept the courtyard again, a scattering of students strolled across the well-kempt grass, a handful basked in the sun near the fountain, but none he recognised. Thinking about it, Garreth wondered whether he should hang around for this team-building training. It was probably wise, considering he was not only the captain but also the one who had organised the whole thing. However, they were running late, and he had spotted far more appealing company.

Before he could put much more thought into it, he swung his leg over his broomstick and began to silently trail the unsuspecting witch.

He couldn't quite pinpoint when he started noticing her disappearances. He assumed he just hadn't been paying much attention to her whereabouts prior to her inquiry regarding his more 'unobtainable' potions. His tactics hadn't evolved significantly since fifth-year when he’d charmed the newcomer into pilfering Sharp's office for supplies, but he had become far more adept at sneaking around for rare ingredients.

He agreed to assist in whatever scheme she was cooking up, on the condition she helped him obtain the key component. Partly for the benefits of having someone on the lookout for wandering faculty, but mostly because the beloved heroine of Hogwarts could do no wrong. If their covert operation were to be exposed, her involvement would mean the detention time his aunt dished out would be significantly reduced.

They needed snakeweed, which he was fairly certain was cultivated and harvested in the greenhouse. However, Professor Garlick was extremely protective of her plants, requiring their thieving to be done after curfew.

Moonlight wiggled through the twisted tendrils of the countless plants scattered throughout the greenhouse as they dispelled their disillusionment charm and got to work.

"What do you reckon all of this is?" The witch gestured towards a dense blanket covering the harvesting bench, a few neatly folded sheets at one end made it appear like some kind of makeshift bed.

"Perhaps the rumours about Garlick and Kogawa are true. Maybe we've stumbled upon their secret little sex den.” Garreth turned around and playfully wiggled his eyebrows, narrowly avoiding stumbling into a venomous tentacula lurking in the shadows.

She pulled back the cover, unveiling a project in progress—mallowsweet leaves neatly laid out, drying between the two blankets.

"You need to get your mind out of the gutter,” she scoffed, laying the covering back over the golden foliage. “Or you need to get laid.”

"It was a logical assumption," he argued, crouching beneath a table, casting a dim lumos across a collection of small plant pots. "The height of these tables are just right for it."

"Should I ask how you know that?"

She lifted herself onto the table as if testing the height for herself. Garreth smirked as he shifted the pots around with flicks of his wand.

"I’m a warm-blooded male, I'd say I'm an expert in these things."

Spotting a small propagation of snakeweed, he cast a glance over his shoulder to make sure she was keeping a watchful eye on the door. She wasn't. She was perched primly on the edge of the table, legs pressed together from knees to toes.

His eyes roamed across her body, and he realised he had never really had the opportunity to thoroughly check her out. She was like forbidden fruit, always flanked by her two Slytherin gatekeepers. It's not that he hadn't noticed she was attractive, she certainly was. Her feminine figure hinted at subtle signs of muscle earned from days spent sprinting around the castle.

His lusty gaze travelled up to her face, only to discover she had been watching him the entire time. Suppressing the flicker of embarrassment, he instead leaned into his Gryffindor bravery. He grabbed the small pot and approached her, his hips meeting her knees with an intentional bump.

"As promised," he presented her with the delicate plant, his fingers brushing against hers as he handed it over.

"That was easy," she raised the pot to catch the moonlight. Her eyes shifted from the plant to him, and her pupils bloomed. "You've earned yourself a returning customer."

"Splendid," he grinned, wondering whether this meant more after-hour hangouts, a thought that kindled his overactive imagination. "The first one's on the house, the rest might come with a price tag."

“I suppose I’ll have to start saving then. What's your price?”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to make demands beyond your means,” he backtracked, worried she might think he was being serious. “Wouldn’t want to scare off my favourite customer.”

"Snagged the title of the favourite customer without parting with a single penny?” She chuckled lightly, scraping her teeth across her lower lip, “Business must be crawling."

"I prioritise quality over quantity," his eyebrow quirked as he studied her face, purposefully lingering a beat too long on her lips before flitting back to her eyes. "Now, what assets do you bring to the trading table?"

"Let me think," she reclined on her palms. "What do I bring to this specific table..." she emphasised each word with a tap of her nails against the wood, "that a warm-blooded male might find tempting?"

Heat surged through his body, and he began to regret pressing himself up against her legs, there was no way she couldn’t feel his enthusiasm swell against her knees.

“Did I mention it’s one for the price of two?”

She laughed, the sugar-sweet sound tickling his brain and the movement of her body causing her legs to part slightly.

“See, what did I tell you?" he pushed his palms against the table on either side of her thighs as he slotted himself between them. "Perfect height."

"I took your word for it. After all, you're the expert." She gave his tie a tug before running the fabric through her fingers. “Well, so you say...”

"Correct," he answered simply, because the only other words rattling around in his head was an offer to sit on his face, and he was trying really hard to play it cool.

She cocked her head to the side, “Are you going to verify that claim?”

You would have thought they were time-fated lovers, not classroom acquaintances. She had been right. He needed to get laid, and she needed some stress relief. It didn't take long before her skirt was hiked up around her waist and he was showcasing just how perfect the height of the table was. He assured her the greenhouse was soundproof due to the mandrakes, though he wasn't entirely sure if that was true. Frankly, he didn't care. Her unrestrained moaning, nails scraping across the wooden table, heels digging into his back to pull him in deeper—it made a lifetime of detention feel like a minor nuisance.

The saying goes, once is a mistake and twice is a habit, but Garreth wondered when it tipped into addiction. Whenever she was stressed—and fortunately for him, that was often—he found himself happily yanked by his tie into the nearest broom cupboard, beneath the Quidditch stands before one of his matches, by the edge of the lake under a disillusionment charm...

Maybe this time, on the balcony of the highest tower?

That's where she gracefully dismounted her broom. He followed suit, touching down behind her without a sound. Her jumper was splattered with mud down one arm, but for the most part, she was reasonably unscathed which was a rarity. She tugged it over her head to clean it with a quick charm, and he realised the stain bore a suspicious resemblance to a troll's handprint.

He knew she could handle herself, she’d been doing so for almost two years without his observations. Nevertheless, he realised he’d begun to worry about her when she was away.

He cleared his throat.

She whirled around with startled eyes and he muffled her gasp with a kiss. She squirmed for a few seconds, but her resistance crumbled as his thumbs glided up her neck, tracing delicate patterns under her ears.

He wasn't certain if she was doing the pulling or if he was doing the pushing, but somehow her back ended up crashing against the wall. Her fingers wove through his hair as his lips tore from hers and latched onto the sensitive skin of her throat.

“You scared the shit out of me,” she landed a weak thump on his bicep.

"You look like you lost a fight with a swamp," he mumbled against her skin, his hands wandering down to her hips.

"I'll have you know, I beat that swamp fair and square."

A ghost of a laugh dispersed across her neck, "I like the thought of watching you mud-wrestle. Let me come with you next time."

“Or you could come in me now?”

It was an obvious deflection tactic, but he gladly took the bait. His kisses grew forceful as he began to nip at her exposed skin.

“You better not be leaving marks, Weasley.”

He grumbled in protest against the light pink blotch he had begun to work into her throat. Something in the primal recesses of his mind itched to brand her. He wanted his lips stained on her skin, regardless of wherever or whoever she was with when she was gone.

"What if they're out of sight?" His fingers danced against her neck as he worked on undoing her tie, it fluttered to the ground before he finished asking for permission.

She withdrew her wand and uttered the incantation for a protective charm to shield their misdeeds from any potential spectators. He took that as consent, leaving a trail of wet kisses down her chest as he unbuttoned her shirt.

"Where have you been?" he probed before his teeth dug into the plump flesh above her breasts. It had been nearly nine days since their last encounter, easily their longest dry spell in the two months since their greenhouse tryst.

"None of your business," She hooked her fingers into his trousers to pull him closer, trying to find some friction.

"I want it to be.”

"Tough shit, Weasley,” her voice faltered as he hiked her skirt up around her waist.

“Garreth,” he reprimanded.

She only called him by his first name when they were fucking. He was certain she’d been deliberately conditioning him with it. If he teased her too vigorously in class all she had to do was say, "Shut it, Garreth," and he'd have to discreetly conceal his excitement for the next ten minutes. She made him dumb, plain and simple.

"You'll have to earn that," she purred, licking a trail along his neck that made his gut twist taut.

He scooped her up, spinning her around until she perched on the balcony's banister. A yelp escaped her as she teetered on the concrete edge, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck.

“I want to feel this tomorrow,” she popped open his buttons to speed up the process, “Please?"

“I've got you," he assured, feeling her pulse thunder against his chest as he positioned himself between her thighs. One hand supported her back, while the other fumbled to unclasp his belt.

It was difficult to recall how he'd ever got aroused before she came along. The way she demanded and begged all at once sent his brain spinning. "Say please again," he whispered, nipping her lower lip as he moved her soaked underwear to the side and positioned himself at her entrance. "I like it when you ask nicely."

"Pretty please?" she simpered before kissing him, her tongue eagerly seeking his.

He swallowed her moan as he pushed himself into her, she felt better than he remembered. Tight, hot, and quivering as he gave her everything he had. He loosely wrapped his fingers around her throat, and she whined against his mouth, her head tilting back as her eyes fluttered shut. He tightened his grip, her own hands scrambling at his waist to encourage him deeper.

He pulled her close by the small of her back with one arm, maintaining his grip on her neck with the other, aligning her to accommodate all of him. With each thrust, she bit down on the flesh of his shoulder as he bottomed out.

So, it was fine when she left a mark. He'd certainly remember that.

“You feel so fucking good, Garreth-”

A fractured cry fell from her lips as he pounded into her because his name had floated off her tongue like a prayer, causing something inside him to shatter, like it always did. Defining the constantly shifting dynamic between them was impossible, but it was addicting - He always found himself craving a little more than what he was getting.

“Who do you belong to?”

Garreth threaded his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck, tugging her head up to look him in the eyes. She regarded him with a dizzy stare but remained silent. He began to slow down, and she instinctively bucked her hips to maintain some friction as her building orgasm began to ebb away.

“I said, who do you belong to?”

She wasn't his, they were both aware of that. This was never more than a matter of convenient timing and a means of stress relief. Nonetheless, he took pleasure in the hold he had over the most formidable witch of their generation. The witch with unwavering principles and determination. The witch who never faltered in her beliefs. The witch who was currently lying through her teeth for the pleasure of coming undone on his cock.

“You,” she whimpered, “Please, Garreth. Don’t stop, please.”

He didn't know if it was the way she was begging or the frantic desperation of her hips grinding against his, but he was teetering on the edge of his breaking point. He bit down hard on his lip, struggling to hold himself together long enough for her to reach the finish line.

"Chin up," he demanded, his breath coming in ragged pants as he reached one hand between them, rubbing a lopsided circle around her clit. “You look at me when you come."

He groaned through clenched teeth as his words caused her to instantly tighten around him, and that beautiful, hazy look fell over her face. She pulled him in by his collar, kissing him so hard it carved itself onto his brain and he released nine days of pent-up desire. He rolled his hips against hers as they both rode it out, briefly forgetting he should be gentle considering she was perched on the edge of a several hundred-foot drop.

He had believed there was nothing better than watching her unravel in his arms before seeking his own release, but he was wrong. Feeling her orgasm spasming over his shaft as he filled her up damn near killed him.

He fastened his trousers and helped her down from the stone balustrade. She smoothed down her skirt, trying to hide the fact that she was wobbling. He hoped his performance had met her expectations and he’d still be making her legs tremble tomorrow.

He peppered kisses across the blemishes he'd left on her breasts as he fastened the buttons of her shirt, trailing up to nip at the delicate spot on her neck just beneath her ear, the spot only he knew about, the spot that made her head tilt back and her vision fill with stars. He whispered an "Accio" against her skin, summoning a tie from the ground. He secured it around her throat with a playful tug before pulling her jumper over her head.

“You have to go?” he murmured between kisses, finding it bothered him less when he asked rather than when she told him.

Her chest heaved as she sighed, planting a lingering kiss on his lips before bending down to gather her things. “I have a study group. You’re welcome to join?”

He gave her a foggy smile and shook his head lightly. “I have some Quidditch thing I’m late for.”

“Alright, well…” She cast a fleeting glance at her abandoned broom on the floor. They hadn’t quite mastered the art of goodbyes yet. “Later, Weasley.”

“See you later,” he offered her a half-hearted wave, hoping she wouldn't make him wait another nine days before flying into his line of sight again.

As he watched her leave, he found himself wondering what impulse had led him to fasten his Gryffindor tie around her neck. There was the undeniable hope her irritation at his bold act would result in some passionate hate sex, but it ran deeper than that. It felt territorial. He’d been growing increasingly irritated with Sallow's lecherous stare and Gaunt's persistent attempts to cater to her every whim. They seemed to believe they held a Slytherin monopoly on her affections, all due to some unspoken event that happened over two years ago. Garreth understood her on a deeper level. She wanted someone who wouldn't procrastinate for two years, someone capable of making her scream on a greenhouse bench at two in the morning. He had a claim too, a far more substantial one.

#garreth weasley #hogwarts legacy garreth #garreth x reader #garreth x mc #garreth x you #garreth weasley x mc #garreth weasley x reader #garreth weasley x you #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy ominis #hogwarts oc #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #ominis gaunt #hogwarts houses #sebastian sallow #garreth weasley smut #garreth weasley headcannon #garreth weasley oneshot #quidditch captain garreth #quidditch

[homoeroticbetrayal]

Iconic Homoerotic Betrayal: Round 2

Round 2 Directory

Context:

Akechi/Joker

Summarized by Anonymous Contributor

Ok so Akira(you the player) are the leader of a group of thieves (who are doing good for society) but there are more sinister things happening that also get attributed to your group.

Enter Akechi the famous charismatic detective who’s declared that he will catch you(you can probably already guess where this is going) When you first meet him it is already clear that something is very wrong under that obviously fake smile. Under your civilian identity you befriend him and slowly(or rather fast) he opens up to you showing more of his true self and what pains his heart. Even disclosing sensitive information that could bring him down. Of course this is all just lies he made up to get close to you right? Nope.

You see the betrayal coming from miles ahead. Not only does he betray you, he’s been the real culprit all along.

Despite knowing this loooong ahead you still take him on little gay dates to the aquarium, public bathhouse, pretending to shoot eachother, a café or try to impress him with your amazing darts skills. You may even willingly make wrong choices just for his approval (I did gdi Akechi I trusted you.) And when you come home he's already waiting for you.

After you survive him gleefully shooting you through the head(it makes sense in context) you meet again he admits that he wishes you’d have met earlier, confirming that your bond was genuine, that you could’ve been friends/partners(? It’s complicated) and he really meant it when he said you’re the only one he feels at ease with. But not without having a truly unhinged meltdown about it first, vehemently rejecting your offer to still be friends and turn over a new leaf. (so after he's attempted to kill you at least 2 times and is gearing up for making it 3)

Akechi betraying you is as much a betrayal of himself as it is one of you.

Bonus points:

other characters comment on you being the only one close to him

during one rank he confesses to you…. His hate?

as previously mentioned, your relationship ranks up after he shoots you in the head(you survive, it make sense in context)

he himself compares his betrayal of you to romance(yes after shooting you through the head). On live tv. In the same moment he reminds himself how he’s felt unwanted his entire life, like a reminder he killed the only person who ever made him wanted.

At the end you have the choice to stay in a perfect world where he is alive and never underwent any of the pain in his life turning him into a wholly different person, or let him die(again) as his true self. If you pick the former you can return the betrayal.

*vague description it’s complicated.

Read other summary here.

John Silver/James Flint (Black Sails)

Summarized by Anonymous Contributor

what if we were pirates and I was grieving over my lost love and pulled you into the orbit of my narrative and turned you into the same kind of monster as I am but instead of dedicating all your energy to destruction you found people to love and you sacrificed our shared dream of revolution for a chance at a quiet life and you had to kill me to do it but instead you said I will wait here for a day a month a year until we can walk out of this together. and also we were both boys.

The moment that best exemplifies WHY I believe silverflint should win this tournament isn't the moment of the betrayal itself, but something that happens an entire season before. It's the season 3 finale, and Flint and Silver are preparing for a battle. Silver says to Flint, "Your demons are a part of our reality. Such is the nature of the influence you wield. Some of those demons I've come to know, but the one in whose name this war is to be fought is still a stranger to me." He asks Flint to share the deepest and most painful parts of his backstory - and Flint does. He opens up to Silver about his (queer) lover, who was killed because of their relationship. He's never told anyone about this before, and everyone who knew is is dead. But he tells Silver.

Silver takes this in and comes to a realization. He tells Flint that he sees himself as the latest in a line of people who have become very close to Flint and died because of it. He places himself in the same category as both of Flint's dead lovers. But he says that, when it comes down to it, he's afraid he's going to destroy Flint rather than let himself be destroyed. Flint tells Silver that if he does try to kill him, he'll have his work cut out for him. The whole conversation takes place in flashbacks, intercut with the battle that takes place the next day. The end of the conversation is played in voiceover over the final shots of the season: after winning the battle, Flint stands on the bank of a river, staring across at Silver and Silver's lover; the two of them stand on the opposite bank staring back.

It is POETIC CINEMA on a level I don't even have words for. It's the moment of their greatest triumph together, the moment Flint finally opens up to someone a decade after what happened to him, the moment their partnership goes from utilitarian to inseparable. But the seeds of their dissolution are already present. Silver says as much, in the same breath as he declares himself to be the latest in the lineage of Flint's lovers. It's a truly unbelievable sequence.

#shuake #silverflint #akechi goro #akira kurusu #john silver #captain flint #black sails #p5 #polls

[mochitheglitch]

When I’m gone

The trees of thieves den were at their full bloom. Petals had shed off the branches and slowly trickled to the ground. A bed of pinks and white coated the warm sun-soaked grass. One of these petals landed on a demon’s head. She was watering the flowers around and showing another how to pick weeds from the trees.

“You seem to be getting the hang of it dear. Next time you won’t need my assistance.” She smiled pleased with the work that they’re doing. Like a tutor she watched them practice all on their own. One by one each weed was methodically plucked away till there were none left. An extra glance was taken to make sure the premise was clean. When the deed was done she rewarded them with a pat on the back.

“Eheh… thanks.” They smile back at her.

“Oh no need to thank me sweetie. I should be thanking you for coming. Your dedication means everything to me dear.” She twisted a flower into their hair by their horn.

“In fact I didn’t think you would come, but it warms my heart every time you arrive.” The other demon looked shocked.

“Why wouldn’t I?! I care about you Vine! You’re like… one of the sweetest demons I know.” They pouted.

“I figured you’d be busy with your cafe. I know how much it means to you, and I’m here to support your dream. How is it holding up right now dear?”

“Pretty slow but it’s to be expected. At least it isn’t as crazy as it was during the Phestival. That was a nightmare!” They chuckled.

“Ah I remember that week, you had to call all of us, even Katana. Everyone looked so lovely in those uniform and you even let me do your hair. You were stunning.” Vinestaff combed a hand through their hair. She twisted the strands between her fingers and looked to them.

“May I?”

“Go ahead.” With the ok, she gets to work first combing out the knots.

“You know Slingshot, your hair is so pretty. Why don’t you do anything with it darling?”

“Well I’ve always been ok with keeping it straight. Didn’t see a need to do anything fancy. I don’t go anywhere like that.” Vinestaff shook her head at them.

“Silly you don’t need to have a reason to do your hair. Don’t you feel nice when it’s braided up?”

“I do…��

“Maybe I could teach you that too if you desire.” Slingshot perked up.

“Really?!”

“Of course dear.” She watched as Slingshot’s smile grew wider from excitement. They kicked their legs slightly. “Try not to move to much darling, I don’t want to pull your hair.”

“Right! Sorry!” They piped down a little, traces of their excitement still showed from their tail swishing. Vinestaff started to braid their hair.

“How does the arm feel?”

“Same as always dear.”

“Mm…” Slingshot sulked, the hunching from this caught Vinestaff’s attention.

“Is something the matter?”

“..I just… I wish we could do something about that. Isn’t it awful?”

“Slingshot my dear, there is no need. As bad as this may be it is quite the blessing you know?”

“How? You’re cursed for life. In fact you’re robbed of your life. How can you be ok with that?!” Slingshot’s voice cracks as anxiety starts to well in their chest. Thoughts of the “what ifs” and “if onlys” pile onto each other. Maybe if they work hard enough they could pay the finest doctor in crossroads to fix this. Maybe that medic in lost temple would know a thing or two. Maybe they can find a cure. But the wood has noticeably increased, now encompassing Vinestaff’s entire arm. Sometimes a few flowers would bloom on it, wilting away as the fall came. She’s wilting. How much time is left until there’s nothing of her. Where will it go to next. Why did it have to be her of all people. And…

“It’s ok.” A hand cups their cheek gently. The thumb strokes away at little droplets as they form and trickle down. “There is beauty in this pain. Look at the things I can do dear, one could only dream of having this. It’s a gift from the world. I pour my soul into giving back to the place I call home. My life may be shorter, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.” She guided Slingshot to lean on her shoulder,her arm extending behind their back to support them. “And one day my body will be gone. I’m not sure when, but that is not my concern either. In the end, I know I will always be with here. I live on in your memories.” She stared out in front of her. The sun lowered, its golden rays spilled onto the valley below. Little mammals began to scurry into their burrows as the low buzz of cicadas picked up. “When I go, I want to lay here. I want to be able to see the land that has graced me with this life. And when I’m gone, don’t forget about the weeds. Maybe you can teach Shuriken for me. Will you dear?” Slingshot nodded their head. Their breathing slowed considerably to a calm and steady pace.

“Don’t dwell on it dear. I’m still here with you now. So why don’t we cherish it while it lasts?”

#roblox #phighting #phighting! #roblox art #slingshot and vine are like siblings to me #she’s very motherly towards slingshot #short fic #short story #slingshot phighting #vine staff phighting #not a ship

[the-hinky-panda]

Day 25: Conjure

10/25: Conjure

Universe // Characters: Den of Thieves - Penny Series // Benny “Borracho” Magalon 

Borracho is certain he has just conjured you into existence. At least, existence as it pertains to location, which currently is a touristy bar in LAX. 

It’s been a few months since he first encountered you in the bar by the Sheriff's office. He had lifted your number from Nick’s phone, not an easy feat, and the two of you had been texting back and forth sporadically. The conversations were short and friendly, flirty if you squint. It was more about the fact that you were talking behind Nick’s back then it was anything else. But he liked you. You were funny, witty, and…not like Nick at all. 

It made him more and more curious about you. 

But then his flight to Mexico is canceled and he’s trying to figure out if it’s worth it to go back home and try again tomorrow, when he catches sight of you sitting at the bar across from his gate. He sends a quick text to his brother about the flight cancellation before heading over to the bar. 

“We have to stop meeting like this, Mamí.” 

If you’re surprised by his arrival, you hide it well. “I’m starting to see the nickname now.” You soften the barb with a wink and a smile. 

“So where are you headed?” he asks, ordering a beer. 

You pull one of the three olives off the toothpick from your martini glass and pop it into your mouth. “I was headed to Ireland. I was going to meet a friend of mine at Newark and we were going to go over there to look for horses for her. She’s an event rider. But,” you point to the TV over the bar with the weather report running, “that midwest blizzard put a fast end to that.” 

“No Christmas in the motherland then?” 

“Not this year. What about you? Where are you headed?” 

“I was headed to Rocky Point, in Mexico. My family always meets there for the holidays. But my plane is stuck in that storm apparently. Should be able to fly out tomorrow morning though.” 

You nod. “Cool. Never been there.” 

“Mexico or Rocky Point?” 

“Both, actually.” 

“You’ve been across the ocean but not the country directly below us?” 

You shrug. “Maybe now that I know someone who can tell me what spots to go to, I’ll make it down there.” 

“So are you going back up to Sacramento for Christmas or staying with your brother?” 

“I haven’t decided yet. Christmas with Nick,” you pull a face. “It’ll end up just waiting for him to be an ass and then listening to Deb complain about him. Then I’ll take the girls out to do something and Nick will find us and Deb will think I did it on purpose and I think I should just make the five hour drive back to Sacramento.” You drain the martini glass and order another one. “But I’ll make the decision tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow?” 

You show him the stack of vouchers. “They were feeling generous given tomorrow is Christmas and they ruined a lot of family’s plans. I have vouchers for a new international flight, a hotel room, and $20 for dinner.” 

“Wow. All I got was ‘Come back tomorrow and we’ll try again.’” 

He orders a second beer and starts asking questions about the horses you were going to look at, what exactly is “eventing” and what you liked about visiting Ireland. He has to admit that the competition that you’re involved in aligns more with Nick’s personality than he thought it would with yours. Jumping six foot jumps in mud and sand, seems to be more for adrenaline seekers than what he had envisioned. You start to ask him about his family and what he looks forward most at the family gathering in Mexico. He tells you about the massive amounts of food, the beach bonfires, and being able to listen to the ocean from his uncle’s home. By the time there’s a lull in the conversation, he realizes it’s almost midnight and he has four missed texts from his family. He glances over them and sighs. 

Let us know if you can get a flight tomorrow. 

Your mom wants to know if you have a girlfriend, who is she, and is she coming with you? 

If you don’t, she’s got like three girls lined up from next door. All in the 40’s and good Catholic girls, just warning you. 

Any word on flights? 

“Everything alright?” you ask. 

“Yeah, fine. You have your family drama and I have mine.” 

You laugh. “Sounds like your family is pretty normal from how you described them.” 

He has four beers in him and is tired so he’s more honest than normal. “I have three sisters and one brother. My brother isn’t married and has no desire to be so when I got married it was up to me to carry on the Magalon name. Now that I’m divorced, my mother is panicking about the family line dying out.” 

You laugh, but unlike Nick’s laugh, yours holds no harshness. “So your Christmas gift is a new woman.” 

He glances down at his phone. “Looks that way. Maybe I won’t catch a flight tomorrow morning.” 

“Nah,” you shake your head. “Whenever I talk to a client about handling a horse, I also say ‘you have to be smarter than the animal.’ So, be smarter than your mom. Cut her off at the pass. Tell her you do have a girlfriend. Hell, show her a picture of me and call it done.” 

“So lie?” 

You give him the side eye. “Like you haven’t done worse than that before.” 

He laughs. “Better yet, I could just take you with me.” 

You start to laugh but stop. “You’re not serious.” 

He certainly wasn’t when he said it but, well, why not? “You got somewhere to be?” 

You tap the side of your martini glass as you think about his offer. “I do have a voucher for an international flight.” 

“And you already have your passport.” 

“And I’ve never been to Mexico before.” 

“Be my fake girlfriend for a family Christmas at the beach or stay here with your brother.” He holds his hand out towards you with a small smile. 

“Well, when you put it that way,” you slip your hand into his and give it a shake. “You have a deal there, Benny.” 

“Nick can never find out.” 

“Oh God, no, never.” 

Benny laughs and orders another round of drinks, sincerely hoping this doesn’t blow up in his face.

#Hinky's October Fic Fest #benny magalon #benny borracho magalon #benny magalon x reader #benny magalon x you #den of thieves #maurice compte

[acethedria]

Every single Elden Ring pun in SSS intros

Stream 1

What if Elden already rang? - Jacob

Stream 2

If you like it then you should've put an Elden Ring on it. - Julia

Elden Ring Fit - Julia/Jacob

Stream 3

If you Elden then you should've put a ring on it. - Jacob

If you're an Eldenly person, then you should get a Life Alert. - Julia

Do you know what my favorite Disney movie is? Eledin and the Prince of Thieves. - Julia

Where do underground luchadors fight? In the el Den Ring. - Julia

What does Elden Ring have in common with going to the polls? You gotta save Marika. - Julia

Stream 4

Y'know the other day, I got this new sweater, and I brought it home and put it on, and the dang thing started falling apart. I called 'em up, the clothing store. Turns out, it was made of elden string. - Jacob

Gen Zs these days only know about the elden ring, 'cause they're always on their phones. - Julia

Well, what ever happened to books. Where are you gonna learn about those Elven rings. - Julia

Stream 5

So, when I was a kid, we had a fort in our backyard, like a play fort, and I would always go up there. But in the fall, a bunch of leaves would fall into it, and I decided that I needed to clean out the fort of all the leaves. And so, I was going in there, I was reaching in, I was pulling out all the leaf piles, but I reached into one, and I felt a pain in my hand. And when I lifted it up, I had put my hand directly on a yellowjacket, and at the time it really hurt, and I was really upset about it, but now looking back, it doesn't seem so bad, because it was more of an elden sting. - Jacob

I'm really excited that we get to see the prawn man again, because he we all loved him because he was so tall and handsome as hell, so I'm glad we get to see him, even if its just in our Elden Streams, ahah, ahhahhh (to the tune of Taylor Swift's Wildest Dreams). - Julia

Stream 6

So, y'all, the other night, me and the ol' battleaxe here were out at the old Italian restaurant. And as I do always, I love a traditional Italian dish, I ordered the SpaghettiOs, the traditional Italian dish. Let me tell you, when they came out, the SpaghettiOs were way overcooked. They were mushy, the SpaghettiOs. So I called over, I said "Bring me the chef", I was snappin', and the chef came out, and I said "Excuse me, I ordered El Dente Rings." - Jacob

Stream 7

The problem with kids these days is that they don't spend enough time in the Elden Ring, they're too busy spending their all their time in The Circle, but what about that Ring? - Julia

Stream 9

Yammers, listen. You all know one of my favorite television shows is The Big Bang Theory. I think all the characters are great, but my favorite character? Sheldon Ring. - Jacob

Stream 10

Y'know when you're hangin' out with friends. It's time for one of your friends to pick a movie. They pick a movie and its a scary one. Sometimes its funny, unintentionally. But, y'know, you don't want your parents to see the scary movie that you're watching. So you go down into the little private room, and you pop that movie. Suddenly, that little room becomes the El Den Ringu. - Julia

Y'know when you're hangin' out with your friends and your brother brings home a friend who's like, really good at the drums, and those drums are down in the little private room. You don't wanna disturb the rest of the house. And then, that guy turns out to be pretty good at the drums but not phenomenal. That's an Elden Ringo Starr. - Julia

Y'know when you're hangin' out with friends and its the 90s and you go into your little private room and the phone rings, but you've got a phone in this little private room, so the noise that the phone makes becomes an El Den Ring.

Stream 11

Y'know when you're looking to have a moment, like a moment between you and someone else, just the two of you, 'cause you really want to ask a very big important question but you don't wanna do it publicly. Finally, you find this small, private room that's a little set into the ground level, and then you get to ask the question. Then you get to show off your El Den Ring. - Julia

Y'know when you order food and the delivery guy calls, and that's when your Din Ring. - Julia

Stream 12

Y'know what song from the 90s I don't miss? I don't remember what it's called, but it goes "Elden ring ding ding daa baa" (to the tune of Crazy Frog). - Julia

#secret sleepover society

[the-possum-writes]

could you do a Finn x male!body taker reader x fern smut/nsfw? if that’s okay ofc!!

Licking Popsicles

❥Ship: Finn/Fern/Male!Reader

❥Tags: N/S/F/W, BJ's, brief spanking, male!reader

❥Synopsis: After being saved from a cyclops you decide your two heroes deserve a reward.

❥A/n: I don't know exactly what you mean by male body taker, but i'll assume it means male!reader

❥Taglist: @watchingfromthefloorboards @foxpearl1wilder

The cyclops’ den is located just above a merchant trail at the high snowy mountains, it’s said that there is a decade worth of goods smuggled inside those treacherous caverns guarded by a bloodthirsty cyclops. It attracts all kinds of people, smugglers, thieves, scoundrels… and then there’s you. No matter how careful you were, you still ended up taking a miss step and got caught in a net trap hanging from ceiling, the material is strong enough to dull your pocket knife so you’re left trying to untie it from above or even bite it with your teeth. The cyclops will be back any second and you have no intention of becoming it’s dinner.

Your ears strain at the sound of footsteps echoing through the cave, revealing two guys entering the ice caves. “Hey, HEY!” you shout from above, watching the two guys look around before finding you on the ceiling. “Can ya help a bro out?” you wave a hand at them. “What’s in it for me?” the one dressed in green armor responds.

A sarcastic comeback would be great but the roar of the cyclops fueled your fear mixed with adrenaline. “What ever you want!” you beg.

The two of them seem to contemplate the offer. “What if I want a good succ?” he replies in a taunting tone.

“Yeah, yeah I’ll give you the bj of your life, now get me out of here!”

Due to the distance you can’t tell what they’re discussing between each other but the man dressed in blue sends the green guy your way while the other fights the cyclops with nothing but a sword in hand.

The young man clad in pointy green armor cuts the ropes keeping you captive, catching you into his arms, unsure how you managed to avoid getting impaled on his shoulder spikes. “Looks like today is your lucky day!” the green knight continues to taunt you, but it’s indifferent on your ears.

“Gee, my hero.” You mutter as he let’s your feet touch the floor. “Watch out!” a frozen block of ice gets tossed in your direction, blocking its impact with your weapon with the spare bits getting sliced in half. Turning around reveals the green knight’s arm turned into a blade, he nonchalantly walks pass you. “Nice reflexes, but not good enough.” A chuckle echoes through his helmet as you grind your teeth together.

Maybe you should’ve taken your chances with the cyclops.

And arduous battle later you’re vibing with the two adventurers, taking refuge inside a cave as the three of you wait for the snow storm to pass. Swords are being sharpen, fire is crackling, dried jerky is chewed on as you’re left counting the few coins you’ve manage to salvage before falling in the trap. Fern scoots closer to you with a knowing grin that can only mean one thing. “Sooo, about that debt you owe us~” the grass fella insinuates, the sudden reminder causing you to choke on your food.

“Come ‘on Fern, we saved him because it was the right thing to do. He doesn’t owe us anything.” Finn calls out his grass brother but Fern responds by grabbing your face cheeks with a single hand.

“But look at him bro! He’s good looking and just look at his soft lips!”

You pull yourself from Fern’s hold delivering a punch in the shoulder, which honestly pained you more than him due to the armor but there’s no way you’re gonna admit it. “You could’ve just asked ya know?” you sound a bit annoyed, but judging by your tone and body language it’s not something you’re completely against. They’re both physically well built and attractive, plus they saved your life so it’s worth a prize or two. “Besides, I believe I should be thankful for my heroes.” You first walk up to Finn with your rolled up sleeping bag in hand, dropping it in front of him as a way to cushion your knees before kneeling in front of the human man.

“If you insist… Don’t mind him, he’s just being difficult.” Finn apologizes on behalf of his grass sibling, but it’s more of a reassurance to himself as he doesn’t know how to react with having Fern watch him during, well, tier 15 kinds of situations. “Really, you’re gonna make me apologize for it? Well it’s not gonna work you aren’t hearing a peep from me.” Fern stomps his foot against the ground, crossing his arms across the plated chest. But the louder the sounds he heard coming from Finn, the more agitated Fern becomes in his spot, the grass armor feels like its cooking him alive with the hot sounds coming past your lips either it be lewd sloppiness or general groaning when he’s throat deep. The visor to his helmet lowers from his face so he could get a better look of your work on his human brother, the sweat running down your forehead, the closed eyes and lowered eyebrows connected together in a concentrated look. He may not know anything about you but just by looking at how you bobble your head and move your tongue he assumes this isn’t your first cock wrangling rodeo. Fern feels the crotch area in his armor tighten, unable to withstand his body heat within the armor.

“Hey uh, listen about earlier,” the grassy young man gets rid of his green knight look in exchange to switching into more comfortable grass clothing. “If you could relieve me from this I’d totally appreciate it…”

You keep you eyes partially open while you stuff your mouth with Finn’s member, expecting something else. Fern sighs, “…Please.” Almost desperate enough to beg but once his hard on came to view you knew you wanted another course to your meal.

“Apology accepted.” You smirk, using one hand to massage your unfinished work on Finn in exchange of using your oral talents on Fern’s pleading erection. Although they’re very similar in shape and size, there’s still a difference in flavor where Finn tastes slightly bitter compared to Fern, while every time you go down on Finn your nose brushes against his unkempt curly pubes while with Fern you’re met with well trimmed grass. It even causes you to sneeze for a second, receiving a brief “bless you” from both of them before resuming your “thankful” deeds.

At some point you’re left aching as well, feeling a warmth boil up in your navel as your pants become too constricted for comfort. Finn just like before comes to your rescue, letting you focus on Fern as he removes your pants off you. “You know, it wasn’t very nice of you to try and steal from that cyclops. I’m gonna have to punish you for your misdeeds.” And just like that he smacks your bare ass, the moan rumbling through Fern’s cock like a pleasurable massage.

“Deliver another one from my part, since you messed up and fell into a trap.” Fern taunts, his breath shaky with the stimulation your tongue provides. True to his word, Finn delivers another smack which does wonder to your own poking erection, begging for a sense of relief. “But you’ve been really good so far, you deserve prize too. Is this one of your liking?” Finn whispers from behind you, feeling his dick warming its way between your butt cheeks. You pull away from Fern for a moment, drool running down your chin and lust blooming within your eyes as you agree feverishly. “Yess… I’d love that.”

Upon receiving the green light Finn collects and obscene amount of saliva in his mouth before spitting on your puckering behind, it feels cold at first, before he uses his thumb to relax the muscles around your backdoor entrance. The young man helps out in other ways for your back muscles to relax as he accommodates his pinkie inside you, sometimes he’d whisper small things and other times he’d jack you off. You’re too busy edging Fern up back and forth to really keep track of Finn, but the time and effort is still greatly appreciated as he has you humming contently when he no longer struggles to fit more than two fingers or his tip inside you. When he finally sheaths himself in you though, it’s like every dirty noise you refrain from letting out bursts out of you at once. Fern is the first one to enjoy it, watching you come undone since he’s been firsthand victim of your confidence and snarky attitude whenever you edge him over the brink of satisfaction, but now that you’re lost in your own mist of blissful lust he grabs a hold of your face and thrusts himself your awaiting mouth as much as he pleases.

If you would’ve known this is the price of being caught and saved from a trap, then you would have tried to steal from a cyclops long ago.

#adventure time x reader #fern the human x reader #finn the human x reader #finn the human #fern the human

[incomingalbatross]

(Ficlet) A Group of Librarians Is a...?

“Hey!” Cassandra said, breaking the always-precarious silence of the Annex. “So, you know how we’re all basically official Librarians now, so this is basically the first time there have been a bunch of Librarians at once...” She trailed off.

“Yeah, so?” Jacob prompted.

She beamed, tenting her fingers together. “So we need a collective noun for Librarians.”

Eve looked up from her desk, eyebrow raised in cautious curiosity. “A collective noun?”

“You know!” Cassandra bounced a little. “Like ‘a murder of crows.’ ‘A parliament of owls.’“

“A flock a’sheep or herd a’cows, if you want more basic ones,” Jacob clarified. He grinned. “Or an ‘argumentation of historians.’“

“Ooh, ‘argumentation’ would work for Librarians, too,” Eve said immediately, smirking.

“Rude,” Ezekiel chimed in. “How about ‘an awesomeness of Librarians’?” He held up a hand before anyone could answer. “Nope, never mind, sounds lame. Also I’m the most awesome one here, of course, so... not really accurate representation.” He shrugged apologetically.

Jacob threw a wad of paper at him. “You’re right about the sounding lame part, at least. We need something classy. What about... a discovery of Librarians?”

“A fantasy of Librarians!” Cassandra suggested. “Because magic!”

Jacob and Ezekiel both pulled faces.

“A trope of Librarians,” Jacob suggested instead.

Ezekiel looked skeptical. “Mate, I don’t even know what a ‘trope’ is.”

“You—how do you not know what a trope is? You’re a Librarian!”

“A cool one. I’m guessing that’s not cool.”

“Not—” Jacob gathered himself together. “A trope’s like—like an archetype, but different. They’re the building blocks of stories, okay, they’re important.”

Ezekiel gave the impression of considering this for a moment, pursing his lips. “Eh.”

“Why are we talking about tropes?” Jenkins had paused mid-passage and looked into the room, with an expression that said it was against his better judgement but he was doing it anyway.

“We need a collective noun for Librarians, apparently,” Ezekiel told him. “I’m thinking...a mystery of Librarians. Because we’re mysterious and we solve mysteries!”

“Hm.” Jenkins wrinkled his nose. “I’ll admit the workings of your mind are certainly a mystery, Mr. Jones—” Ezekiel beamed “—but it’s not the word I would choose.”

“An adventure of Librarians,” Jacob suggested.

“A victory of Librarians!” Cassandra tacked on.

Jenkins looked disapproving. “Very self-aggrandizing. Anyway, I should think the answer was obvious...” He smiled benignly. “The most appropriate choice would clearly be a nuisance of Librarians.”

“I like that one!” Eve said cheerfully, giving a thumbs-up without bothering to raise her head from her work.

Cassandra scowled at them both. “Boooo.”

“Can’t do that one anyway,” Ezekiel said, phone in hand. “Nuisance is already reserved for cats.”

“What? No.” Cassandra looked taken aback. “Cats are a clowder.”

“One thing can get multiple names.” Ezekiel was typing something. “For instance, thieves can be a ‘den,’ a ‘gang,’ or a ‘mob.’“ He frowned for a second. “Although obviously ‘den’ is the best one. Anyway! Did you know Wikipedia’s got a whole list of these?” He looked up, grinning again.

“Ooh! What about a ‘code’ of Librarians?”

Jacob shook his head. “Too confusing. Sounds like a code Librarians have. Here, lemme see that list—”

A sharp sound echoed through the Annex. They all turned automatically to Eve, who had clapped her hands together for their attention.

“I’ve got the perfect collective,” she said with a smile. “A group of Librarians—named for what they are best at and most prone to, in all the world—is a distraction of Librarians.”

They stared at her. Ezekiel raised a finger. Cassandra frowned. Jacob opened his mouth, then shut it again.

“Ooh,” Jenkins murmured appreciatively. “Very apt. A masterstroke.”

“Now hang on!” Ezekiel protested. “That’s not fair, you can’t just decide—”

Eve smiled sweetly. “I’ll tell you what,” she cut in. “If any of you can remember what you were doing before this conversation started, I’ll withdraw my suggestion.”

“I mean—”

“We—”

“Well, uh...”

Silence fell. Three Librarians’ gazes suddenly went elsewhere.

“Uh-huh." Eve went back to her work with a shake of her head, still smiling. “That’s what I thought.”

#these guys are fun #my fic #my writing #...i think maybe i should make that my fandom tag #brought to you at least in part by: the time ezekiel and cassandra were watching jacob fight with his dad #and started brainstorming reality show titles RIGHT THERE #a distraction of librarians

[kobblefort]

Rushsly: Almost The Bottom

SPOILERS FOR ENDGAME CONTENT UNDER THE CUT.

Two miners into the depths: Zhasrca Foldcounselled and Nucra Framegarnishes.

Doors shut firmly behind them. I can't think of a worse omen than Nucra fondly remembering a conversation with his wife.

Up on the surface, a single thief is spotted approaching the fortress. Why now?

Cire Osokcat is caught by them as he heads out to dump some trash, but they breeze right past him... and he decides right then "I'm going to go fishing." Right after the drawbridge lever was pulled. I draft him into the military just so that I can specifically force him to move off the bridge in the vain hopes that he isn't caught in the mechanisms and lost.

He ignores the order, but fortunately runs off the bridge to chase one of the ratfolk down. Like an idiot trying to beat a train through a crossing so he can get to Joe's Crab Shack but ironically being saved by having some kind of road rage incident. Did you have to do this now, Cire!?!?!? The bridge is up, the ratfolk who made it in are targeted, and the one outside the base will hopefully walk right into our traps any second now.

The miners are literally still at work down at -116, cracking through gold vein after gold vein. The earth truly does run rich down here. Maybe this will all turn out completely fine. Maybe Rushsly will be the most grossly wealthy fort of all kobblekind.

Due to the fact that no scouts ever survived to come back and tell the ratfolk "hey don't go into the big-ass animal den," one of the thieves walks straight into the animal den.

It takes Ace Steel just a single swing to split one of the ratfolk's heads open.

His compatriot can only give a few seconds more of chase before being literally chopped in half by the swordmaster Shycla Zhizorsa.

The one who ran into the den is torn apart by the dogs before finally being finished off by a giant rattlesnake. The drawbridge is lowered once more so that the military might set upon the final thief.

Though he tries to run home, possibly to give the advice of "we really need to stop fucking with Rushsly," Ace Steel is faster, angrier, deadlier. Chopping off his arm, smashing his nose, knocking out his teeth, before one stab in the leg from Sheslas Spurnspread's dagger leads him to just plain run out of blood. And just like that, it's time to clean up. A waste of time, but an amusing one. The poor bastards, our constant enemies, fated to never even know what's below the surface of our fort. They have no idea of what we're on the precipice of, they wouldn't understand if they did. In another world, I feel bad for them, have sympathy for their plight, maybe even like them; in this one, I just want them out of our way. Adamantite will be ours.

But god damnit, the bastards are so fucking persistent!! Taking no heed of their scouts' inevitable demise, after however many fucking raids they've already sent and failed, they spring another ambush upon us.

Susle, a potash maker (which is a job that actually matters in my fort for the first time since I started playing the game) is shot twice, once in the rib and once in the knee, but almost manages to evade his pursuer...

until he decides not to run straight in through the trapped entrance, and instead try to flee out into the woods.

By the time the kobbles start actually taking heed of the civilian alert, more of them are wounded. Ilzi Dwelltube, a clothier who must have been one of our newest arrivals, similarly just tried to run around between the trees instead of getting to safety just a few tiles away, and takes eight fucking bolts for his trouble before making it past where the ratfolk can pursue him.

Susle tries to crawl to safety, fighting so hard, harder than any kobble ever should, but...

It's no use. Susle does not live to see adamantite, and the ratfolk who took it from him just saunter around outside all self-satisfied over finally getting a single win over the kobbles. One of them wanders off, three more just kind of loiter.

We get our first beast from the third cavern layer, but it's not like it can get in, nobody even goes near the fortifications that peer into the third cavern, who gives a shit. Well, the least we can do is put down the three fucking rat bastards that remain before they can dare to get home to their shit-encrusted little hole in the ground and brag, and so our own militia are sent out through the long trap tunnel to put them down.

Arm cut open, head cut off.

The crossbow bolts that are not outright parried are still effortlessly blocked, bouncing hopelessly off the kobbles' heavy steel armor. Another head lopped off. Go for a hat trick?

Three heads. Yeah motherfucker. Hat trick. We'll do one big patrol of the entire map before sounding the all-clear and letting Susle be buried.

After a quick sweep, there's no more rats in sight. The corpses will just be left out there in hopes of being understood as a warning: see how far their heads landed from their bodies? That could be you. But it hurts to see Susle go, and on the subject of hurting...

Six scars now mark the poor clothier. He's fixed up well enough, but it's doubtless he'll be able to walk without a crutch again.

Cire, the doctor who is still erroneously listed as "guard captain," fares a bit better, though there's never anything good about a skull fracture, just things that could be worse about a skull fracture. He prays to Tulrac Dungsgalls, the god of death, disease, and deformity. Hey I like some triple D's myself you know what I mean heh heh ohhh yeaaah sorry. Just trying to add some levity to the situation I guess. One has to wonder if it is Tulrac's influence that will win over this fortress, or Dasël's - the god of rain and rainbows. I fear we are headed for death, though it would be nice if we didn't.

Before you ask, I didn't leave the miners trapped in the shaft this whole time - right as the ambush kicked off, I let them out to hang back and sit on standby with some drinks and snacks. They say you should basically never fight a war on two fronts - I don't know who says that, maybe nobody actually says that because it's obvious, and it's actually just the sort of wisdom you get clued in on by absorbing all sorts of other wisdom and hearing all sorts of other things, I don't know. Because sometimes someone will be like "They say blah blah blah" but then nobody actually says blah blah blah, it's not like a quote from someone, it's literally just them putting "common sense" into words. And on that note I've always thought "common sense" was bullshit. "Common sense" just means you made an assumption that ended up being proven right, and people who talk a lot about how "nobody has anyone common sense" tend to actually just be making a bunch of assumptions and putting themselves into a feedback loop of thinking well my assumptions were right before so they're obviously going to be right this time too. And I mean it's not actually hard to see how people get like that anymore, because nowadays media and journalism and all that shit is more about validation than verification. And that goes for everyone on every part of the political spectrum, I probably get my brain blasted just as bad being a Mao-appreciating-but-otherwise-agnostic anarcho-communist as like, your average small-business-tyrant Fox News conservative does. There's hardly ever any real investigations, that shit doesn't make money and nobody wants to fucking hear it when you tell them that thing they thought was wrong, they just don't, nobody in the entire world likes that besides the very small percentage of people so deeply committed to science or competition or whatever else that they can literally just shove their ego out of the way, that's only like 3% of people and they're busy winning fucking Super Smash Bros. Melee tournaments or fucking around with electron microscopes. Another good way to blast your fucking ego out of here is with psychedelic drugs like acid or mushrooms but as a big fan of both I gotta say doing acid makes it very hard to write. Anyway

Finally lifting Susle's lifeless body from the shade of a great citron tree, Ty Lovelyseduce finally carries him to his final resting place in a green glass coffin, just like the other kobbles we've lost. He will never see what comes next to Rushsly, whether riches or ruin, put suddenly to his final sleep just days before the world would change. But her thoughts as she lays him down are not of dread, fear, or pain. They're of optimism.

Adamantite is the perfect material: it can make near anything, from armor to clothes, from weapons to coins, light enough to dance in yet strong enough to protect - if the rumors are true, at least. And the promised days must be close, now, they have to be. Golden days of wealth and fame, where kobbles can live without fear of bolt or blade.

The earth must surely relent soon.

#dwarf fortress #kobblefort #df spoilers

[muzzleroars]

So I actually managed to find the entire Persona 5 concept art book online! Which is really interesting and I'm gonna look through it all later, but Yaldabaoth! The words on Yaldabaoth's wings are in the concept art, specifically the page including all his weapons where the patterns on his wings are more detailed (also all the pages of the artbook I downloaded are individual images labeled are just numbered so I'm gonna have to manually sort them if I want to find anything quick so some meta smh)

Unfortunately the quality is too low on any image of this page I managed to find online to actually read the words. Maybe there's a more detailed version in the concept art found in the Thieves Den for Royal? Or if someone has a physical print copy of the art book?

(also Yaldabaoth's book has a David's star and what seems to be a graph of the sine function in it which is interesting, a mix of the mathematical and religious)

SO i checked out the thieves den and unfortunately, the yaldabaoth art available there is the one with the less-detailed wings. i then tried to mess with his model in the den to see if i could get the right angle on it, but of course i couldn’t!! i also have texture rips from the game, but they’re actually not high-res enough for me to read (so it might not be legible actually in game??) it seems like the text is all composed of the same words (which throws out my short-lived theory that each node, which would number eight in total counting both wings, had anything to do with the eight deadly sins p5 covers lol), but still it remains elusive!! i even went to check out the anime to see if there were any better angles there, but nothing!! all i managed to see was this:

i will say it looks slightly different from what i can see in game, but i imagine it’s the same words. all i know at this point is that it will continue to make me lose my mind not knowing exactly what it says!!

BUT i so agree that the book is interesting in the concept art here!! the pages of the book are much simpler in game (as i can see those on the texture rips), but the combination of religious symbols and mathematical ones very much plays into my idea of him as a computer god. it’s also so indicative of him as the architect, that he may work and derive his power by the divine and esoteric meaning of numbers - everything in his universe can be conceived of mathematically, the religious defined by specific parameters and able to be worked out through perfect, mysterious equations too demanding for human minds. AT LEAST it’s a fav headcanon for me so i like seeing it here dkfghdfg

#he's the only gay that can do math #sorry i disappeared for a shower too lol #but this game seems hellbent on not giving it up!! #really the best image of it may be the animated cutscene #i should pull it up on the thieves den #bc the original shot i got was from a lower-res recording i made #and maybe seeing it on my tv will do it? #I WILL INVESTIGATE bc i forgot to do that when i checked the den lol #be back...soon.... #p5 #yaldabaoth #sorry i'm clogging his tag u_u #cake answers #long post #in-fair-verona-we-set-our-scene

[c-is-for-circinate]

For a long, large part of my life, being queer in a media landscape--finding queerness in a media landscape--has meant theft.

I'm a Fandom Old, somehow, these days, older than most and younger than some, in that way that's grown associated with grumpy crotchetyness and shotguns on porches and back in my day, we had to wade through our Yahoo Groups mailing lists uphill both ways, boring and irrelevant anecdotes from Back In Those Days when homophobia clearly worked differently than it does now, probably because we weren't trying hard enough. I've seen a lot of stories through the years. I've read a lot of fanfic. (More days than not, for the past twenty years. I've read a lot of fanfic.)

When people my age start groaning and sighing at conversations about representation and queerbaiting, when we roll our eyes and drag all the old war stories out again in the face of AO3 is terrible and Not Good Enough, so often what we say is: you Young Folks Today have no idea how hard, how scary, how limiting it was to be queer anywhere Back In Those Days. Including online, maybe especially online, including in a media landscape that hated us so much more than any one you've ever known. And that is true. Always and everywhere, again and again, it's true, we remember, it's true.

We don't talk so much about the joy of it.

Online fan spaces were my very first queer communities, ever. I was thirteen, I was fourteen, I was fifteen--I was a lonely, over-precocious "gifted kid" two years too young for my grade level in an all-girls' Catholic school in the suburbs--I lived in a world where gay people were a rumor and an insult and a news story about murder. I was straight, of course, obviously, because real people were straight and anyway I was weird enough already--I couldn't be two things strange, couldn't be gay too, but--well, I could read the stories. I could feel things about that. I would have those stories to help me, a few years later, when I knew I couldn't call myself straight any more.

And those stories were theft. There was never any doubt about that. We wrote disclaimers at the top of every fic, with the specter of Anne Rice's lawyers around every corner. We hid in back-corners of the internet, places you could only find through a link from a link from a link on somebody else's recs page, being grateful for the tiny single-fandom archives when you found them, grateful for the webrings where they existed. It was theft, all of it, the stories about characters we did not own, the videotaped episodes on your best friend's VHS player, one single episode pulled off of Limewire over the course of three days.

It was theft, we knew, to even try and find ourselves in these stories to begin with. How many fics did I read in those days about two men who'd always been straight, except for each other, in this one case, when love was stronger than sexual orientation? We stole our characters away from the heterosexual lives they were destined to have. We stole them away from writers and producers and TV networks who work overtime to shower them in Babes of the Week, to pretend that queerness was never even an option. This wasn't given to us. This wasn't meant for us. This wasn't ours to have, ever, ever in the first place. But we took it anyway.

And oh, my friends, it was glorious.

We took it. We stole. And again and again, for years and years and years, we turned that theft into an art. We looked for every opening, every crack in every sidewalk where a little sprout of queerness might grow, and we claimed it for our own and we grew whole gardens. We grew so sly and so skilled with it, learning to spot the hints of oh, this could be slashy in every new show and movie to come our way. Do you see how they left these character dynamics here, unattended on the table? How ripe they are for the pocketing. Here, I'll help you carry them. We'll make off with these so-called straight boys, and we only have to look back if somebody sets out another scene we want for our own.

We were thieves, all of us, and that was fine and that was fair, because to exist as queer in the world was theft to begin with. Stolen time, stolen moments--grand larceny of the institution of marriage, breaking and entering to rob my mother's hopes for grandchildren. Every shoplifted glance at the wrong person in the locker room (and it didn't matter if we never peeked, never dared, they called us out on it anyway). Every character in every fic whose queerness became a crime against this ex-wife, that new love interest. Every time we dared steal ourselves away from the good straight partners we didn't want to date.

And: we built ourselves a den, we thieves, wallpapered in stolen images and filled to the brim with all the words we'd written ourselves. We built ourselves a home, and we filled it with joy. Every vid and art and fic, every ship, every squee. Over and over, every straight boy protagonist who abandoned all womankind for just this one exception with his straight boy protagonist partner found gay orgasms and true love at the end.

Over and over, we said: this isn't ours, this isn't meant to be ours, you did not give this to us--but we are taking it anyway. We will burglarize you for building blocks and build ourselves a palace. These stories and this place in the world is not for us, but we exist, and you can't stop us. It's ours now, full of color and noise, a thousand peoples' ideas mosaic'ed together in celebration. We made this, and it will never be just yours again. You won't ever truly get it back, no matter how many lawyers you send, not completely. We keep what we steal.

.

Things shifted over time, of course. That's good. That's to be celebrated. Nobody should have to steal to survive. It should not be a crime, should not feel like a crime, to find yourself and your space in the world.

There were always content creators who could slip a little wink in when they laid out their wares, oh what's this over here, silly me leaving this unattended where anybody could grab it, of course there might be more over by the side door if you come around the alleyway (but if anybody asks, you didn't get this from ME). We all watched Xena marry Gabrielle, in body language and between the lines. We sat around and traded theories and rumors about whether the people writing Due South knew what they were doing when they sent their buddy cops off into the frozen north alone together at the end of the show, if they'd done it on purpose, if they knew. But over the years, slowly, thankfully, the winks became less sly.

A teenage boy put his hand on another teenage boy's hand and said, you move me, and they kissed on network TV, in a prime-time show, on FOX, and the world didn't burn down. Here and there, where they wanted to, where they could without getting caught by their bosses and managers, content creators stopped subtly nudging people around the back door and started saying, "Here. This is on offer here too, on purpose. You get to have this, too."

And of course, of course that came with a whole host of problems too. Slide around to the back door but you didn't get this from me turned into it's an item on our special menu, totally legit, you've just got to ask because the boss throws a fit if we put it out front. Shopkeepers and content creators started advertising on the sly, come buy your fix here!, hiding the fine print that says you still have to take what you've purchased home and rebuild it with your semi-legal IKEA hacks. Maybe they'll consider listing that Destiel or Sterek as a full-service menu item next year. Is that Crowley/Aziraphale the real thing or is it lite?

And those problems are real and the conversations are worth having, and it's absolutely fair to be frustrated that you can't find the ship you want on sale in anything like your color and size in a vast media landscape packed full of discount hetships and fast-fashion m/f. It's fair to be angry. It's fair to be frustrated. Queerbait is a word that exists for a reason.

There's a part of me that hurts, though, every time the topic comes up. It's a confusing, bad-mannered part of me, but it's still very real. And it's not because I'm fawning for crumbs, trying to be the Good, Non-Threatening Gay. It's not that I'm scared and traumatized by the thought of what might happen if we dare raise our voices and ask for attention. (Well. Not mostly. I'll always remember being quiet and scared and fifteen, but it's been a long two decades since then. I know how to ask for a hell of a lot more now.)

It's because I remember that cozy, plush-wallpapered den of joyful thieves. I remember you keep what you steal.

Every single time--every time--when a story I love sets a couple of characters out on a low, unguarded table, perfectly placed to be pilfered on the sly and taken home and smushed together like a couple of dolls, my very first thought is always, always joy. Always, that instinct says, yay! Says, this is ours now. As soon as I go home and crawl into that pillow-fort den, my instincts say, I will surely find people already at work combing through spoils and finding new ways to combine them, new ways to make them our own. I know there's fic for that. I've already seen fic for that, and I wasn't really interested last time, but the new store display's got my brain churning, and I can't wait to see what the crew back at the hideout does with this.

Every time, that's where my brain goes. And oh, when I realize the display's put out on purpose, that somebody snuck in a legitimate special menu item, when the proprietor gives me the nod and wink and says, you don't have to come around the side, I know it's not much but here--there is so much joy and relief and hope in me from that! Oh, what we can make with these beautiful building blocks. Oh what a story we can craft from the pieces. Oh, the things we can cobble together. Look at that, this one's a little skimpy on parts but we can supplement it, this one's got a whole outline we can fill in however we want. This one technically comes semi-preassembled, and that's boring as shit and a pain to take back apart, but that's fine, we'll manage. We're artists and thieves. I bet someone's pulling out the AU saw to cut it to pieces already.

And then I get back to our den, which has moved addresses a dozen times over the years and mostly hangs out on Tumblr now (and the roof leaks and the landlord's sketchy as fuck but at least they don't charge rent, and we've made worse places our own). And I show up, ready for joy--ready for a dozen other people who saw that low-hanging fruit on that unguarded table, who got the nod and wink about the special menu item, who're ready to get so excited about this newest haul. Did you see what we picked up? The theft was so easy, practically begging to be stolen. The last owner was an idiot with no idea what to do with it. The last owner knew exactly what it could become, bless their heart, under a craftsman with more time on their hands, so they looked away on purpose at just the right time to let me take it home. I show up every time ready for our space, the place that fed me on joy and self-confidence when I was fifteen and starving. The place that taught me, yes, we are thieves, because it is RIGHT to take what we need, and the beautiful things we create are their own justification. We are thieves, and that's wonderful, because nothing is handed to us and that means we get to build our own palaces. We get to keep everything we steal.

I go home, and even knowing the world is different, my instincts and heart are waiting for that. And I walk in the door, and I look at my dash, and I glance over at twitter, and--

And people are angry, again. Angry at the slim pickings from the hidden special menu. So, so tired and angry, at once again having to steal.

And they're right to be! Sometimes (often, maybe) I think they're angry at the wrong people--more angry with the shopkeeper who offers the bite-sized sampler platter of side characters or sneaks their queer content in on the special menu than the ones who don't include it at all. But it's not wrong to be mad that Disney's once again advertising their First Gay Character only to find out it's a tiny sprinkle of a one-line extra on an otherwise straight sundae. It's not wrong to be furious at the world because you've spent your whole life needing to be a thief to survive. It's far from wrong. I'm angry about it too.

But this was my den of thieves, my chop shop, my makerspace. Growing up in fandom, I learned to pick the locks on stories and crack the safes of subtext at the very same time I learned to create. They were the same thing, the same art. We are thieves, my heart says, we are thieves, and that's what makes us better than the people we steal from. We deconstruct every time we create. We build better things out of the pieces.

And people are angry that the pre-fab materials are too hard to find, the pickings too slim, the items on sale too limited? Yes, of course they are, of course they should be--but my heart. Oh, my heart. Every single time, just a little bit, it breaks.

Of course the stories are terrible (they have always been terrible). Of course they are, but we are thieves. We steal the best parts and cobble them back together and what we make is better than it was before. The craftsman's eye that cases a story for weak points, for blank spaces, for anywhere we can fit a crowbar and pry apart this casing--that's skill and art and joy. Of course we shouldn't have to, of course we shouldn't have to, but I still love it. I still want it, crave it. I still thrill every time I see it, a story with hairline cracks that we can work open with clever hands to let the queer in.

That used to be cause for celebration, around here. I ask him to go back to the ruins of Aeor with me, two men together alone on an expedition in the frozen north, it feels like a gift. And I understand why some people take it as an insult. I understand not good enough. I understand how something can feel like a few drops of water to someone dying of thirst, like a slap in the face. If it was so easy to sneak it hidden onto the special menu, to place it on the unguarded side table for someone else to run off to, why not let it sit out front and center in the first place? I know it's frustrating. It should be. We should fight. We should always fight. I know why.

But my heart, oh, my heart. My heart only knows what it's been taught. My heart sees, this thing right here, the proprietor left it there for you with a nod and a wink because they Get It. It's not put together yet, but it's better that way anyway. It's so full of pieces to pull apart and reassemble. I bet they've got a whole mosaic wall going up at home already. We can bring it home and make it OURS, more than it was ever theirs, forget half of what it came from and grow a new garden in what remains.

And I go home to find anger, and my heart breaks instead.

#I don't actually know how to tag this #representation #maybe? #C needs help feeding the dinosaurs #because this is very much about being a fandom old #probably also #driveby meta attack #because that's where I keep my impromptu rambles #CR spoilers #technically I guess? #there's one line that references the finale #fandom history

[shirophantomvox]

What Would a Card Game with Hisoka Be Like? Hisoka x S/O

This is part 2 to my previous headcanon post about how to get the Adult Trio to blush. Check it out now!

Hello anon and thank you for this wonderful ask! Your question is very unique because it asks about card-playing and Hisoka. I’ll be honest, I have never thought about Hisoka actually playing a card game but since it is a part of his aesthetic, I’m sure it’s possible. You and I are wondering the same thing…how would a card game go with him? How would Hisoka enjoy a night at a Casino? He’d love it! The thrill of intense game playing, stupid wagers, and fancy hotels with beds as soft as the clouds?! I mean, he has stated before that he learned card tricks from his mother. I used “lady” in here as a context filler just to make the story but anyone can insert themselves in this story. As usual, I have to incorporate fluff in here somewhere. Say no more! Buckle up, people; we are about to go on a fast ride to satisfaction-Ville.

♠️ Tonk, survival of the fittest ♠️

It is common knowledge that playing cards are Hisoka’s strength. I’m not sure if he knows how to play cards or if he only uses them as weapons. Either way, he somehow perfects his moves. Sometimes playing a game of cards with him are loads of fun and sometimes they turn into heated and naughty dares session if one loses a certain amount of rounds.

Headcanon 1: Hisoka is the king at bluffing. He’ll say anything to pressure you into dropping your hand on the table. Don’t be surprised if he expresses how he’ll cater to your every whim if you drop your hand in an instant, but do not fall for it!

Headcanon 2: Drama makes him full; more than oatmeal. He’ll talk about how horrible you are at card games and that you move slowly like an old person just to make you angry so you can quit at the game. He often gives you the evilest glares from across the table. Sometimes they can be so bone-chilling that you turn your head to make sure no one had anything to your neck. But something about those evil glares made you break a sweat not from fear but from arousal. It’s something about that thin, smug smile that makes you want to say “Take me here.” The anticipation is eating you both alive.

Headcanon 3: Most of the time, he likes to include a wager to make the game more interesting. This can be something as simple as giving him a massage to who will be handcuffed that night. One time he bet $1,000, convinced that he was going to win a game of Gin but when you beat him in the first 10 minutes, he was flabbergasted.

Headcanon 4: Hisoka isn’t afraid to admit to defeat. If you won the game fair and square, then so be it. You have won a surprising amount of card games. Since this magician is the master at card tricks, it would seem like he’d win, but you and he were nearly even. After you won this round, he’d slightly throw his hands up and laugh.

“I didn’t know you’d catch on so quickly and quite well, I might add.”

“Well...I learned from a great teacher…”, you pause for second sipping from your cup and fluttered your eyes, “...Hisoka.” The purring of his name pushed a slight groan of relief from the magician as he held his 5 cards in front of his mouth, leaving only his nose and golden eyes exposed.

Headcanon 5: Hisoka doesn't cheat at all when he plays cards. It isn’t fun if a person continuously cheats because the game would be over in seconds. Although he doesn’t cheat, he often distracts you with physical touch. Sometimes he’d rub his fingers on your hand as it rests on the table or blows you kisses. This is done to divert your attention from the game and focus on his passes. Well...I guess you could call this cheating. If you’re having a hard time trying to pull a card for the win, sometimes he will give you a pass and allow you to discard one card to put you ahead of him. If you’re taking absolutely TOO LONG to pull, he’ll throw his stack of cards on the table, come over, and demonstrate for you. To add insult to injury, he’d bend over placing his sharp chin your should on purpose so his mouth could be by your ear. He is now taking up the majority of your seat (doing squats for so many years finally paid off) and is guiding both of your hands mimicking how to pick cards to win a game.

Headcanon 6: Flirting is his strength. He already knows that he is eye candy to everyone and uses it to his advantage. As he explains his methods, within each explanation he takes a card (without Nen) and grazes it against your jaw or arm, and whispers what card it is.

“...Here we have a Queen of Hearts. Look familiar?”

You nod and frown. “No.”

“It’s you, silly.”

Ah! Those cheesy pick-up lines! You never get tired of those

“A 2 of Spades, a 4 of Diamonds, and a Joker card.” His deep voice tickled your eardrum as he spoke softly. “Are you paying attention, kitten?” He knew that you weren’t but continued to pull your finger anyway.

As he continued to fiddle with cards, he gently places a few kisses on your cheek to see if you can still focus while doing so. Truth be told, it wouldn’t be fun for either of you if you developed a stone heart like how he had.

♦ ♥ Casino Night ♥ ♦

Headcanon 7: He loves to participate in exciting Casino Games and have you attend as his “partner in crime”.

On a Casino Date Night, he often chooses a dress for you and you choose his suit. Red and black or black and gold always look flawless together.

The casino is his favorite place to go when he accompanies Illumi on missions. The Zoldyck boy is often irritated by the fact but allows him to do whatever he pleases as long as he doesn’t attract too much attention to himself. That is such a stupid thing to ask of this magician. He is eye candy after all. How can he go unnoticed? If you are with him, he is bound to be noticed. People would stare in awe and jealously at how you two were beyond a power couple.

Hisoka often engages in stupid and dangerous wagers that almost cost him his life but knowing the excitement he gets from it, he doesn’t care.

He has placed bets with members of the Mafia and gang-bangers betting his house and jewels but somehow always manages to win. To make matters worse, the sore losers would often call you horrible names simply because they were angry because they lost to a sly young man.

He refers to you as his “good luck charm ♣” which seems to be true. Every time you are with him, he wins the riskiest wagers.

Headcanon 8: He despises the slot machines. He believes they are rigged to not match on purpose so you can continue to waste money. He forbids you to play them especially when you are using his money.

Headcanon 9: When in “Gamer’s Den”, he is much more protective of you than anywhere else. The Gamer’s Den is a Den of thieves; they mainly consist of money-hungry men that prey on people and their vulnerabilities and/or have committed crimes before (example: robbing winners when walking to their cars). Keeping his arm around your waist, he glares at everyone in the room to establish a sense of dominance AND to let it be known that he is not to be messed with.

Headcanon 10: His kitten (you) is not to be flirted with. You were in the Lion’s Den; something similar to a piece of steak in front of warm-blooded mammals. Of course, wolf-whistles were heard when you walked by, but your man was by your side; it was easy to ignore. Some of the men disregarded his stares and began to flirt with you hard. It made you cringe. Who would want a 50-year-old man with too much cologne on, in your face smiling with a yellow tooth showing? The man only backs up when Hisoka throws his Joker card at him, grazing his cheek causing it to be scratched. One man pushed you to the ground because you ignored his passes. Hisoka began to laugh, sounding a bit psychotic.

“Sir, you do not put your hands on a lady. It shows how much of a coward you are for not excepting that she isn’t interested.”

“Shut up you bag of bones! There’s no way she’s with your skinny ass,” the older man yelled. “You young people annoy the crap out of me! I could break your thin ass in half in a matter of seconds!” His face was red, ready to burst into flames yet he wasn’t ready for the surprise he was about to get.”

Hisoka walked over, helped you up, and dusted off your dress. The man started in confusion. He couldn’t bear the thought of such a beautiful person to be with someone like him.

The man continued to hurl insults at Hisoka but before he could react, security had already thrown him out.

“What a pity. I was going to show him what a ‘skinny’ man can do. Oh well.

Headcanon 11: You enjoy playing pool more than he does. Again, he takes this opportunity to distract you as much as possible. The touch of his cold moist lips from drinking wine on your warm neck causes you to jerk, missing the hole you were shooting for. After pouting, nearly about to jab him in his stomach (because you were playing for money), Hisoka chuckles in a teasingly way.

“I adore that look,” he says sipping from his wine cup.

“I’m sure you do.”

#hunter x hunter headcanons #hunter x 1999 #killua zoldyck #hunter x meme #hunter x reader #hunter x 2011 #chrollo x reader #chrollo x you #chrollo x y/n #hisoka x reader #hisoka x y/n #hisoka fluff #hisoka morrow #hxh #illumi hunter x hunter #illumi zoldyck #illumi x y/n #illumi x reader #hunter x hunter x y/n #chrollo lucilfer #hxh fandom #hxh 2011 #hxh reader #hxh hisoka #hxh illumi #hunter x hunter imagines #hunter x hunter fanfiction #hunter x hunter #hunter x you

[certifiedskywalker]

Regret Me - Sharon Carter

Zemo warned you that Madripoor was a lawless place, a den of pirates and thieves. The last time you saw Sharon Carter, she was neither a pirate nor a thief, save for the fact that she had stolen your heart long before. Turned out, she kept it as her favorite treasure.

WARNING: a n g s t

“Hopefully you can make something here work.”

“Hopefully? You got a whole damn shopping mall,” Sam quipped as he stepped up to one of the clothing racks Sharon pulled out. The blonde shrugged and leaned up against the nearest wall, dark eyes full of waiting. While Sam scanned through the array of options and Bucky looked on with disinterest, you fixed your attention on Sharon.

There were the faintest hints of a smile on her lips. Small lines, the dip of her dimples, deepened slightly at the corners of her mouth. When was the last time you saw Sharon Carter smile? When was the last time you saw Sharon Carter at all? Too long ago.

It was before the Blip, but after your stay on The Raft. When Steve broke you, Sam, and Wanda out, you decided to run your own way for a while. Your path led you back to Sharon, her apartment, or what was left of it. She was packing, stuffing what she could into luggage. In your mind, there was a dull, dim echo of your name falling from her lips and...

“Y/N?”

...not saying goodbye.

“Y/N?”

Sharon’s eyes were on you when you managed to pull yourself from your faded memories. You quickly averted your gaze and shook your head slightly in the hopes of clearing it; though, your muddled recollections remained and hung in your mind like storm clouds ready to release a downpour. When you looked back up at Sharon, her posture was straightened. She no longer leaned against the wall and there was worry perched in her furrowed brows.

“Sorry, what?” You asked, scratching at the back of your neck. Every nerve ending of your body itched to move, to run away and hide, but where? Sharon’s home, her new world, was so, terribly unfamiliar to you. It made the want to disappear into the home you remembered with her all the more painful to bear.

“I have choices that might be more your style,” she replied, slim arms crossed over her chest. You forced your eyes to remain trained on hers, despite how you longed to take in the full sight of her. “You interested?”

Sharon was always strong, it was one of the many things that initially drew you to her. But there was something in how she carried herself, how she looked at you in that moment, that made her seem invincible. Perhaps it was the all-black outfit, how it fit like a uniform but was entirely removed from her days as a S.H.I.E.L.D. operative. She looked ready for a fight or a party, and you felt that she would be happy with either.

You nodded at her question before you let yourself dwell on the allure of her confidence. Sharon’s lips quirked up in a full smile and she turned around, flicked her hand behind her to entreat you to follow. You glanced at Sam and Bucky, only for the latter to stare warily back at you. Glints in Bucky’s eyes revealed the same nervousness that tightened your chest.

Be careful.

You dipped your head, a wordless concession before you trailed after Sharon. The sound of her heels as they clicked against the hardwood floor matched the quickened pace of your heartbeat. To distract yourself from the alarmingly swift rush of blood through your body, you glanced around the channels of the apartment. Despite the lavish level of living the sleek modern furniture and expensive, most likely original, works of art, Sharon’s house did not feel like a home. It was bare bones.

The hallways you passed through were stark. Where old apartment in D.C. was decorated with her and he friend’s smiling faces, plants, and life, this High Town suite was lifeless, pictureless. The only thing that lived inside its walls was Sharon, but even then you weren’t entirely certain that she was living as she once was.

When she glanced over her shoulder, to check to see if you followed her, her dark eyes brightened. For a moment, she looked like she did before you both ran away. You had run in separate directions after Steve took Bucky to Wakanda. When Sharon smiled softly at you, you struggled to remember why you didn’t go with her.

“Like I said, some of this might be your style,” she said as she walked into what you assumed was her bedroom. Sheets on the queen-sized mattress were without a wrinkle, without a touch. “But, it’s been a while since I last...since I’ve seen you.”

“Yeah,” you said as Sharon walked over to a large set of closet doors. “I missed you.”

Sharon paused at your words. Her hands settled on the handles of the closet before they tightened. Knuckles, strained, turned white, but when she turned her head to face you, Sharon wore a smile. No longer were her eyes bright; in fact, they mirrored the blank, white walls of her apartment. The sight made your stomach twist.

“I’m flattered.”

Before you had a proper chance to react to the coldness of her tone, Sharon threw open the closet doors. Racks of silk slip dresses, pressed suits, and formal robes, all in clashing patterns, hung in troves. Some were sleek and monochrome, while others were borderline floral, a jungle stitched into fabric. Once you accumulated to the colorful assault before you, you glanced over at Sharon. Her smile had dropped, but her gaze remained trained on you.

“Your personal wardrobe?”

She shrugged. “Pick out what you like.”

You opened your mouth to reply, to ask why she seemed so frigid, when she turned her back to you, busied with her phone. It had been years, you told yourself, and she was still trying to help. Times were hard and clearly changed her, but she was still Sharon to the core. She was still the Sharon you once loved, the one you gave up everything for.

You frowned as you looked back to the closet. Idly, you searched through the hangers. As you flicked through each fanciful piece of clothing, your eyes landed on a simple shirt and jacket. The tags stuck out of the collars and caught your attention. They were both in your size.

You pulled the jacket from the rack and thumbed the tag to read it more clearly. “This is in my size, in your closet?”

“Yeah, that,” at the sound of her voice, you glanced up at the blonde. She eyed the jacket in your hands and nodded. “I saw it, a while back. Thought of you.”

Her dark eyes flickered up to hold your gaze. She watched you, carefully, read every microexpression you could not help but show. You almost felt her calculating. She had wanted you to find the jacket, to ask about the size.

“Sharon.”

“Try it on.”

You sighed and shook your head to clear it of all the things you longed to say. “I don’t think it will do us any good. Maybe I should go and-”

“Please.”

Never in your life had you heard Sharon Carter beg, not for anything. She took what she wanted, whether it was a job, a bullet, or your heart. She made it so easier for you to fall for her because you knew she was already prepared to catch you. When you were caught at the airport in Berlin, held in The Raft, you thought only of her. The moment you were free, you ran to her only to run away. Why?

“Please.”

You cut through the memory to the fear. What was the why: because you would run to her every time if given the chance, and that scared you. You got caught but she would look at you with all the want in the world. She would be ready to meet you in the middle as you made your way back to her. Sharon deserved better. Despite how everything else around you had changed, that fact had not.

“Okay,” you conceded, unable to deny the pained look in Sharon’s expression. You had caused her too much hurt to bring about anymore. As you stepped over to the full-length mirror propped up against the wall, you caught Sharon’s reflection behind yours. Her eyes were glued to you as you slipped the jacket over your shoulders.

Unable to deny how it fit so well, you admired the look of your reflection. As your gaze traveled up, you caught Sharon’s eyes in the mirror. You turned on your heels to face her and saw that the ache that she once wore had morphed. Her eyes drank in your form but her expression was blank. Even as she stepped towards you with hands extended out towards the lapels of the jacket, you could not read her. She was always a good spy.

Wordlessly, Sharon reached out and adjusted how the jacket sat on your frame. A whiff of her perfume, rose-like florals with hints of something more bitter, filled your nose. The smell was enough to throw you back into the memory of the last time you saw her, your not-goodbye.

"It fits, really well,” you said in the hopes of grounding you back to reality, to that moment. “You've really made a life for yourself,”

"I have.” Sharon brushed her hands along the lapels to flatten them out. She pulled away, met your eyes, and, suddenly, you could read her. "You could've come with, helped me."

"I..."

"This life could have been ours,” she pressed. “After I stole the shield and wings. I wanted you to, I asked you to. Do you even remember?”

"There was a lot going on. The team was..." You trailed off at the thought of the Avengers and let your eyes fall from Sharon’s. At least you were all alive back then.

"We were both wanted criminals, branded traitors,” Sharon continued, denying your excuse. “Why...why didn't you come with me?"

Your heart ached at her question, her tone. The confidence you saw, you admired only a few precious minutes before faded into the quivering bottom lip of insecurity. Sharon wasn't invincible, despite all her trying to be. You were her weak point, just as she was yours.

"I was scared...I didn't want you to regret me, me coming with."

“Regret you? Y/N,” her eyes widened, “I loved you, I needed you.”

You shook your head and gestured to the sleek room around you. “You don’t need anyone, Sharon. Look at what you’ve built for yourself.”

“I wanted to build it with you,” she said as her hands grabbed yours. You glanced down at your joined hands then back up at her face. The pain was there again. It hung in her dark eyes and downturned lips.

“I wanted that too,” you admitted, “but we...we were on the run, and if I got caught-”

“You wouldn’t have, I wouldn’t let you,” she interrupted.

“That’s my point. You would risk your life for me and I would have risked it all for you, then we would both be lost. We might both regret it, us.”

You slipped one of your hands from her and reached up to brush a stray strand of hair from her face. Sharon leaned towards your touch for only a moment. Then, as you tucked the hair behind her ear, she thought better of it. Her eyes met yours, held your gaze with an intensity that refreshed the image of her strength in your eyes.

“I regret having to miss you.”

“I did too.”

Sharon nodded and swallowed hard before she added, “I mean, we didn’t even really say goodbye.”

“I didn’t want to think we had to, I guess. We are here, so…”

“We are here,” she echoed. For a long moment, you and Sharon stared into the other’s eyes. You swore you saw her lips twitch up slightly, an almost smile, but it didn’t last. It melted away as she began to lean towards you.

She pressed her lips to your forehead. It was a gentle kiss, only the smallest reminder of what you and Sharon used to be. Though, it was enough to make your heart swell and dull the soreness of your heart. When Sharon pulled away, you saw that, perhaps, it did the same for her too. She seemed less grim, more like she was when you, Sam, Bucky, and Zemo first ran into her: confident and new.

“So, no goodbyes. Only, ‘see you laters’.”

“Only ‘see you laters’,” you agreed. Sharon nodded and stepped away from you. She started towards her bedroom door and, for a second, you thought she was going to leave you alone. Just as you were about to resign yourself to your thoughts, your regrets, Sharon glanced over her shoulder. She smiled.

“C’mon, we got a party to go to.”

#sharon carter #sharon carter imagine #sharon carter imagines #sharon carter fanfiction #sharon carter fanfic #sharon carter x reader #sharon carter x you #sharon #carter #agent carter #tfatws #marvel #marvel mcu #marvel mcu imagine #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #marvel fanficition #marvel mcu fanfiction

[plainbrunettelbl]

ABO (A) Dragon Bakugo Katsuki x Pregnant (O) Reader Crimson Scales (Part Two)

Word count: 2970

Warnings: Kidnapping. Mentions blood. 

Title: ABO (A) Dragon Bakugo Katsuki x Pregnant (O) Reader Crimson Scales (Part Two)

Summary: Thieves steal you from your den and your dragon is not happy about it. 

(Gif not mine) 

💥-You sat nestled against a pile of gold and jewels. Soft fur blankets helped soften the hard objects you were laying on. A Dragons hoard was a magical thing. Dragons seemed to know every single piece of jewelry and coin of gold that belonged to their hoard.

💥-Their hoard sings soft rhymes to them and strengthens them.  

💥-Dragons with smaller hoards tend to be weaker. A bountiful hoard is a sign of good health and prowess. Of course, Bakugo’s hoard was generous in size. Thus making him a powerful Dragon to challenge.

💥-His brilliant ruby scales and humongous size were because of his massive hoard.

💥-Most dragons didn’t want to fly in the same sky as him.

💥-He had grudgingly told you he had a few friends but their dens were too far for you to travel. At least right now in your condition. You were with pup, or hatchling as Bakugo corrected you many times.

💥-Your Alpha might be rough and intimidating but that didn’t mean your mate didn’t spend twenty whole minutes in the sky looping and diving in happiness.

💥-Dragons are connected to their hoard and it seems that this little one was no different. If you didn’t lay resting on top of the hoard or have some of it touching you it would become restless.

💥-A wiggling dragon in your stomach was not ideal.

💥-So Bakugo lovingly moved your nest to lay on his hoard. Or as he would like to point out, it was both yours and his. You are his mate so you have every claim to his hoard as much as him.

💥-He loved to see you adorned in rubies.

💥-“Are you sure you are gonna be okay?” He asked, leaning over you.

💥-“Yes, the pup and I will be fine.” You reassured, rubbing your stomach.

💥-“Hatching.” He corrected, moving his own hand to do the same.

💥-“Mmh.” You hummed, loving the feeling of his warm hands on yours.

💥-His dragon form sure came in handy during the winter. Most of the time he rested curled around you. He loved to cuddle with you in his human form too but sometimes his dragon wanted out.

💥-And his dragon took pride in being able to keep his mate warmed and comfortable in the winter. You often fell asleep resting against his rumbling chest.

💥-You didn’t mind either way.

💥-“I shouldn’t be gone long. I know where I want to go for their birthing jewel.” He rubbed his hand on your cheek.

💥-Dragons had many traditions. One of them being the birthing jewel. When a hatchling was born a dragon parent gift them a rough jewel. Once they were old enough they would polish and shine it. Making it into whatever piece of jeweler they would like.  

💥-It would be the heart of their future hoard.

💥-Katsuki had already shown you his. He crafted it into a brilliant gold ring. The ruby was as big as a grape. He wore it sometimes but liked to keep it hidden in his hoard.

💥-He let you try it one once. Let’s just say you found out you were with pup a few weeks after. Dragons loved seeing their mates adorned with their hoard. Katsuki was no different.

💥-“I know.” You leaned up to kiss him. “The pup and I are probably gonna be napping the whole time and won’t even notice your absence.”

💥-“I don’t know about that.” He smirked, pulling his hand from your stomach.

💥-Instantly your pup kicked at the loss of their father’s hand.

💥-You huffed, ”I wish they didn’t do that. My ribs can only handle so many kicks and punches.” You shifted around trying to get comfortable.

💥-“Stop it, little one. Be nice to your mother.” He rumbled, softly caressing your stomach again.

💥-It worked like magic, your pup settled down.

💥-“I should be back before the sun starts to set. Make sure to rest, Y/N.” He commanded, leaning down to scent you one more time before leaving the den.

💥-“I will. Be careful.” You called out.

💥-“I will.” He threw over his shoulder before transforming and flying off.

***

💥-True to your word you slept most of the time. You only woke up when you heard feet kick around rocks at the entrance.

💥-“Katsuki! You are back earlier than I expected.” You turned around to look up at him.

💥-It wasn’t him.

💥-Three men stood at the entrance. They were dressed in torn and dirty clothes. You picked up a harsh tobacco scent from them. Your stomach rolled at it. Two of them were Betas. It wasn’t hard to tell that the biggest one was an Alpha.

💥-“Well, would you look at that. A dragon’s Omega all alone.” The Alpha remarked, stepping closer. “A good hoard she is sitting under as well.” He whistled.

💥-You stiffened at his words. Your Omega whimpering at the danger you are in. You had no weapon, and even if you did you couldn’t fight them off in your condition.

💥-You wouldn’t let them hurt your pup.

💥-“My mate should be back soon. You should leave before he burns you to a crisp.” You warned, pulling your blanket closer to you. Hoping they wouldn’t notice how defenseless you were.

💥-“I don’t think so.” The Alpha hummed walking towards you. “I think you are just trying to get us to leave.”

💥-You tried to make your body as small as possible. “Leave!” You tried to keep up your strong facade. You wanted to cry at the thought of him touching you in any way.

💥-“Don’t worry, we will. Just with as much gold and jewelry, we can take.” He grinned evilly, resting a hand on your head.

💥-You bite his hand, he yanked it back with a hiss, “Looks like the dragon’s mate is as feisty has their mate.” He called over his shoulder to his friends, he turned back to look at you. “I don’t hit Omegas so I’ll let it slide. Now be a good Omega and sit and stay quiet.”

💥-You just glared at him in response. You didn’t have a choice. If you jumped up and continued to fight him it wouldn’t be good for you or your pup. So you bit back your anger and fear and stayed put.

💥-“Good, Omega.” He cooed at your still frame. “Alright boys, grab as much as you can.”

💥-The Betas grinned and got to work. It hurt you to see them take your mates hoard. You stayed put, keeping your stomach hidden within your mound of blankets.

💥-Until you noticed one of the Betas digging around in the gold, scooping up as much as he could to fit into his bag. He hadn’t spotted it yet, but his digging revealed Bakugo’s heart of his hoard.

💥-You couldn’t let him discover it. Dragons were lost without it. Never able to fully recover without its loss. Bakugo would tell you horror stories of Dragon’s going insane because they lost the heart of their hoard.

💥-You wouldn’t let them take it.

💥-You jumped up from your spot and charged at him. You reached for the gold necklace in his hands. Acting like you cared about the meaningless jeweler.

💥-“That’s mine! You can’t have that.” You tried to take it out of his hands.

💥-He merely huffed and rolled his eyes at your sudden interference. You reached for it again and he shoved you down onto the hoard. It hurt your delicate body but it was just what you planned.

💥-You sneakily slid your Alpha’s heart into your fur robes.

💥-“Shut up, Omega. It’s mine now.” He sneered, putting it into his bag.

💥-“Oh give it back to her, Grant. It’s going the same place either way.” The Alpha’s eyes burned against your frame.

💥-“What do you mean? You said we would leave the Omega?” The Beta questioned, a confused look on his face.

💥-“We were until we found out she was carrying a Dragon pup.” He continued, eyes sliding down to your bump.

💥-You shrunk under his gaze, bringing your hand up to cover it. You started chirping up a storm. Hoping your Alpha was close enough to hear you.

💥-“You know I don’t hit Omegas. I don’t think my friend Grant has the same rules.” He disclosed, his eyes narrowing. “Shut her up before her dumb mate catches on.”

💥-Before you could react a sharp pain hit your head and you passed out.

***

💥-Bakugo was deep in a cavern when his Dragon started acting up. It was hissing and clawing at his chest. He didn’t waste any time transforming and taking flight. Something must be wrong with his mate and he was determined to get to her.

💥-He hoped it wasn’t the hatchling causing her distress.  

💥-He made it to his den in record time. He transformed into his human form before rushing in.

💥-“Omega? Are you okay? Did something happen?” He looked at his hoard to find you weren't there. Neither was most of his hoard. His eyes narrowed at a small spot of blood near the hoard.

💥-He didn’t have to scent it to know it was his Omegas.

💥-He wasted no time transforming and letting out a vengeful roar. He would burn the whole world down looking for his mate and hatchling, but first, he would start with this forest.

💥-He shot off into the sky, his hulking frame shaking in fury.

***

💥-“Did you hear that?” One of the Beta’s asked, looking up into the sky. The sun was slowly setting. Oranges and yellows muddled the sky.

💥-“I didn’t.” The Alpha replied, bouncing your slumped frame higher on his back. He wished he had a wagon to carry you and the gold in. Wagons were easy to spot so traveling on foot was better.

💥-The Alpha didn’t want to admit it but your pregnant form and the jewelry were weighing on him too much.

💥-“We can stop and rest for the night.” He said after twenty more minutes of traveling.

💥-“What? But we need to be farther away. The dragon should know his hoard and mate are gone now.” One replied, looking at the Alpha with a hint of worry.

💥-“So what? We have traveled far enough that he wouldn’t know where we are. I say we are setting up camp so we are setting up camp.” He growled, not liking his authority being challenged.

💥-“Y-yes.” The Beta agreed, slightly shaking under the Alpha’s glare.

💥-To his credit, the Alpha did wrap you up in blankets before taking you out of your den and into the cold. The pup inside you would sell for a high price. So he was making sure nothing happened to you before you could give birth to it.

💥-After that, he might just leave you for the wolves. He knew animals tended to get hungry in the winter. He set you down on the cold ground before gathering things to make a fire. You weren't being left in the cold to die just yet.

💥-The warmth of the fire woke you. For a second you thought you were cuddling up against your purring dragon. That image was shattered when your face was hit with a gust of cold air.

💥-The gruff voices talking over the fire solidified the fact that you had been kidnapped. Before you could pretend like you were fast asleep distressed chirps burst from your chest.

💥-“Well look who is up.” The Alpha smirked at you from across the fire. “You are pretty far from home Omega. Your Alpha won’t hear you.” He went on.

💥-You teared up at the thought of being far from your mate and den. You wanted to be at home curled up with your warm Alpha and not here with a measly fire keeping you from freezing.

💥-“He will come for me you know. You can’t take a dragons pregnant mate and not expect for him to not come looking for me and the pup.” You glared, holding back your tears.

💥-“Ya ya.” The Alpha rolled his eyes at your words.

💥-You were about to tell into him with more about of what your Alpha would do to them when he found you but that died on your lips when you looked behind the Alpha and saw ruby eyes glinting in the dark.

💥-You nearly squealed in joy seeing your Alpha.

💥-You kept quiet though. Not wanting to alert the thieves that he was here. You Alpha made a motion with his hands and you understood. You peeled back the fur blanket resting on you and sat up.

💥-The males eyed you.

💥-“Do you know much about dragons?” You asked, trying hard not to smirk.

💥-“Ya. They like gold and steal Omegas right?” The Beta responded, leaning forward.

💥-“That is partly true but do you know much about a dragons mate?” You questioned, shifting your feet to get ready to stand.

💥-“No, not really. Dragons are a secretive bunch. With them hiding in caves a lot there isn’t much information on them.” The Beta pondered, a thoughtful look on his face.

💥-The Alpha looked bored with your conversation.

💥-“I’ll let you in on a secret. Once bonded a dragon’s fire doesn’t affect their mate. A dragon can breathe fire onto their mate and not a hair on their body would be singed.” You volunteered, standing up and brushing off the blankets completely.

💥-“And you are telling us this because?” The Alpha finally speaking up.

💥-“No reason really. Just that I should be fine now that my Alpha is here. Can’t say the same about you all.” You said, walking a bit away from them.

💥-You might not burn but your clothes sure would.

💥-Before any of them could really respond to the sound of trees snapping and your Alpha roaring rang throughout the forest. He had shifted into his dragon form and even in the dark his scales shined.

💥-He breathed fire into the air to showcase his fury.

💥-His chest glowed like a burning furnace in the dark.

💥-The thieves took off in different directions and you were glad they did. You didn’t want to hear their screams. Once it was clear that they were gone and not coming back you went and settled on the blankets by the fire.

💥-Your pup jolted awake at their father’s roar and started wiggling around.

💥-“It’s okay, pup. Your father is here. He is just dealing with something right now.” You cooed, rubbing your stomach to try and calm them.

💥-He was done with them pretty quick. You heard his hulking frame snapping trees before it stopped and he was running towards you. Happy chirps left you as he wrapped his strong arms around you.

💥-“Omega.” He breathed, his voice husky and slightly wobbly.

💥-“The pup and I are fine, Alpha.” You purred, leaning up to put your face into his warm neck, scenting him in the process.

💥-His hand clutched at your waist and stomach. Your pup calmed at the contact. He pulled your face away from him and eyed your forehead. A little dried up blood caked your hair.

💥-“One of them hit you. I should have killed them slower.” He growled, looking at your injury.

💥-“It’s fine, Alpha. You are here now and you won’t let anything happen to me and the pup.” You softly smiled, looking into his heated eyes.

💥-“Hatchling.” He softly corrected, getting lost in your soft gaze.

💥-You chuckled, “Hatchling.” You smiled, “Let’s go home.”

💥-“Yes, Omega.” He rumbled, before lifting you up in his arms princess style.

💥-“Wait! Your hoard!” You said, just remembering.

💥-“I can come back and get it after I have you warm and safe in our den.” He said, walking forward, ignoring the sacks of gold around the base.

💥-“I have your hoard heart. I made sure they didn’t take it.” You told him, burrowing closer to his warm chest.

💥-“Thank you.” He purred, leaning down to kiss your head.

Bonus:

💥-“I don’t want a new den! I like my bathing pool.” You pouted, crossing your arms. You sat in the den on his hoard. Bakugo standing in front of you with a stubborn glare.

💥-“I’ll make you another one! This den isn’t safe enough. I don’t want this to happen again.” He argued, running a hand through his hair. “I need you and the pups safe.”

💥-You knew coming home to find you kidnapped really did a number on him. He has been way more protective of you in the last few days. Constantly hovering and growling at anything that he thought was dangerous.

💥-“Fine, but you have to make me another one in our new den and only after the pup is born. I don’t think moving  to another den right now is good for them.” You agreed, rubbing your stomach.

💥-“Of course, Omega.” He walked forward and dropped towards his knees so he was closer to your pup.

💥-“You think they like their birthing jewel?” He asked, eyeing the natural jewel that rested on top of your stomach.

💥-“They do. I can’t take it off my stomach without them kicking me in the kidney.” You laughed, loving the look of pride on his face.

💥-“Of course they like it, what child of mine wouldn't like a ruby.” He preened, proud that he chose right.

💥-You giggled, “I think I prefer emeralds so I don’t know.” You joked, knowing a certain green-scaled “friend” of his had a liking for them.

💥-“Don’t even say that.” He grumbled.

💥-You couldn’t help but laugh at his sour face.

Okay, first post in a while. I hope you like it. I know you guys liked crimson scales and wanted a part two so here you go! What did you think? I feel a little rusty so honest feedback would be nice. I am also sleep deprived so go easy. 

I hope everyone has a good Christmas! 🎄

#Katsuki Bakugō #bhna x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha imagines #BNHA Headcanons #bnha x reader #my hero academia #mha x reader #mha bakugou #mha fanfiction #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha katsuki #Omega #omegaverse #Alpha #bnha omegaverse #mha omegaverse #dragon #abo #overprotective #mates #pregancy

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Day 5 Birthday Plot Bunnies 2

If you want this to become my next WIP, be sure to shower it with lots of love!!  🥰 💖 All the story starters will be linked back to this masterpost.

Title: For the Love of My Husband

Summary: Bilbo is a thief and a conman who has tricked Thorin, Crown Prince of Erebor, to marry him as an escape from a tight spot. He thought their marriage was happily enough, but Thorin feels a disconnect from the hobbit he’s married. To appease his family and strengthen their bond, Thorin asks Bilbo to take the Trial of Souls with him. Problem is, Bilbo doesn’t want Thorin to know anything about him because they are most assuredly not Ones. And if Thorin learns the truth, Bilbo will find himself back in the streets or worse...

In a darkened pub deep under the kingdom of Erebor, a hobbit and a dwarf squared off. The waiting crowd was near silent as they waited to see what would happen next. The dark haired beast of a dwarf looked fairly confident as he shared a smirk with his two friends directly behind him.

“What’ll it be, Took? Fold or settle?”

The hobbit nonchalantly lifted his overturn cup to sneak a peek at the two dice lying inside. 

“How about I raise you instead?”

It was silent for a moment before the dwarf, Drulik, burst into laughter followed by his cronies.

“Raise? You have nothing left to bet with.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure of that.” Bilbo stated before pulling out a silver harp-shaped brooch with thin golden strings.

The dwarves surrounding the gamblers all began murmuring at once, some trying to lean in for a closer view.

“Is that…?” One of Drulik’s dwarves gaped.

“Yes.” Bilbo announced calmly. “The Courting Gift of our dearly departed queen, Mahal rest her soul.”

“How did you get that?” Drulik demanded.

Bilbo gave him a wane smile as he tucked back into his vest with a pat. “It doesn’t matter. The question you should be asking is how much do you think it’s worth?”

The gambling den awaited Drulik’s long drawn out answer. It almost made the hobbit want to roll his eyes at the melodrama. However, after years on the streets, he knew a good show could sometimes be the difference between success and failure. And Bilbo didn’t fail. Finally, Drulik pulled out another bag, spilling the golden coins onto the pile between them.

“Settle.” Drulik demanded before revealing the contents under his cup.

The crowd cheered and whistled much to Drulik’s ego at the combined total of eleven from his dice. Nine Rings was a gambling game loved by Durin’s Folk and Men alike with a very simple premise. Highest total won. So you bet and bluff to convince your opponent that you have as close to twelve beneath the cup as possible. However, there was one small exception. Nine always trumped any other number. Therefore, when Bilbo lifted his cup to reveal the five and four, there was a near frenzy of excitement. Drulik was rendered speechless as Bilbo lifted his pint in cheer before downing the ale all in one go. Producing a sack from his coat pocket, he raked all the golden coins towards him.

“Well lads, this has been more excitement than any hobbit can take, but I think I’m going to leave now while my fortunes are in my favor.”

“You cheated.” Drulik growled. “You had to have.”

“Check my dice if you wish.” Bilbo offered with a shrug.

The tavern owner, Nifror, who ran as honorable a den as one could for thieves and ruffians was at their table in a flash. Bilbo had heard a tale that the last dwarf who cheated at the game got their loaded dice pinned, one to each hand, with a knife made by Nifror’s wife. He threw the dice a few times and each time they landed with a different number. He shrugged.

“The hobbit’s clean.”

“But that’s impossible.” One of Drulik’s own gaped.

“Yeah, we loaded them ourselves!” The other snarled.

There was a pause and then Old Nifror was on them in a flash. Some moved to help the old barkeep out. The rest roared and placed bets on the winner. Meanwhile, Bilbo used this as the perfect opportunity to sneak away. He dropped the loaded dice he had smuggled into his pocket on the ground with a snort. Like he would be that stupid. Now most would have worried walking around with that much gold around the dregs of Erebor’s underworld. Fortunately, Bilbo was a professional at remaining quiet and unseen. A talent he had been forced to pick up early in his life. Which is why he nearly screamed when a hand landed on his shoulder.

“Make a good haul?” The dwarf smirked.

Bilbo turned around with a glare. “You know you don’t have to be so smug every time you manage to catch me off guard.”

Nori, Bilbo’s oldest and dearest friend, just raised an eyebrow as he tried and failed to hide the mischievous superiority oozing from his every pore.

“Just like to remind you, you’re not the best just yet.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes as he continued on his way knowing the dwarf was following.

“We both know I was headed to your place eventually so is there a reason you’re bugging me now?”

“Can I not worry over the sake of my friend?” Nori gasped overdramatically.

Bilbo snorted but made no arguments or agreements.

“Well, if I were coming to find you, it might have something to do with the fact that your husband finished up his duties early today to surprise you.”

The coin he was holding nearly slipped from his suddenly numb fingers.

“Valar above!” Bilbo swore. “That dwarf. He’s positively incorrigible!”

“He’s in love.” Nori pointed out.

Bilbo scoffed. “Love. Well shit, looks like you’re going to have to take this to our hiding place for me.”

Bilbo shoved the bag of gold into the dwarf’s chest before power walking towards the secret tunnels. Nori kept stride with him, clearly not done delivering bad news.

“Are you anywhere close to the right amount?”

“I’ve nearly two-thirds at this point.”

“Bilbo, you only have a week left.”

“I’m well aware, Nori! Maybe it's enough to...buy me more time.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t the whole point of you marrying some rich noble supposed to give you easy access to the treasury?”

“It was, but there was one teeny detail we didn’t take into account.”

“What’s that?”

Bilbo paused, his face falling into a grimace. “In-laws.”

***

One of the first things Bilbo and Nori did upon their rushed and unplanned move to Erebor from Ered Luin was scope out the best places for a quick getaway. They just so happened to make kind with a chatty miner named Bofur who, while deep in his cup, told them that the royal wing originally was meant to be on the other side of the mountain. When the architects realized the disadvantage of having the royal family so far from the guards’ posts and war meeting rooms, rather than just move the furniture back down only to go back up on the correct side, they cut unmapped tunnels around the outside of the mountain. It also had the added advantage of getting their monarchy out quicker in the case of a coup if the knowledge hadn’t been lost through time. It was perfect for the thieves’ needs. In almost no time at all, Nori and Bilbo had found the tunnels and utilized them fully. 

Something the hobbit was thankful for now as he flew down the tunnel to get back to his room. He welcomed the blast of mountain wind to rapidly cool the sweat on his face before ducking back into the opposite entrance. There was a small alcove where Bilbo’s fancier clothes lay and he all but threw himself out of his worn threads for the finer silks and cotton. The last thing he did was pocket the brooch before sprinting back down the tunnel braiding and beading his hair on the run. Once he was back in the royals’ wing, he ducked his head out to make sure the coast was clear, and then silently made his way to his suite. After closing the door behind him, Bilbo relaxed against it, heaving a sigh of relief.

“And just where have you been, Husband of Mine?”

Bilbo prided himself on the fact that he did not squeak even if he did jump nearly two feet in the air. Thorin, Prince of Erebor, was lounging in the armchair by the fireplace looking rather pleased with himself. Bilbo attempted to calm his racing heart as he stepped forward, plastering what he hoped to be a loving grin on his face.

“Just a walk on the cliffs with Nori. Surely, you would not deny this hobbit the feel of fresh air and sunshine?”

Thorin stood at that point, meeting him about halfway. His thumb gently caressed Bilbo’s cheek.

“If I had it my way, I would deny you nothing, ukradê (my greatest heart).”

Bilbo hummed in practiced delight as he met his husband’s lips with his own. The hobbit was at least content with the knowledge that as far as dwarves went, Thorin was stunningly handsome. Not a sentiment necessarily shared with others of his race. Which worked out just fine for Bilbo as it left a prince of all things, uncommitted and available.

“By the way, look what I found this morning.” Bilbo stepped back with a teasing smile as he produced the brooch from his pocket.

“My mother’s brooch!” Thorin gaped as he took it reverently. “Where…?”

“It was under my bed. You must have dropped it when you paid me a surprise visit last night.”

Thorin smirked as he latched onto Bilbo’s hips. “I remember the night well.”

Oh, and he was a really, really good bed partner. No, Bilbo was well aware he could have it much worse. It was just the dwarf’s nauseating romanticism that nearly caused him to roll his eyes more than once. Thorin gave him a long lingering kiss before he bent forward to press his forehead against Bilbo’s own. Their hands found their way into each other’s naturally interlocking.

“I promise, it won’t always be like this.” Thorin murmured when he finally pulled away, his blue eyes shining brightly.

Like this. The dwarf was so dramatic. It constantly made Bilbo feel like some player performing for the court. Heaving a sigh as he looked down between their conjoined hands. 

“We’ve been married for eight months, and two of those have been spent here in Erebor. If your family was going to accept me, they would have done so by now.”

Thorin released his hands so he could lift Bilbo’s chin to look at him.

“Don’t lose faith yet, amrâlimê (my love). I have a plan.”

It was a good thing Bilbo was a talented actor. He laughed, causing Thorin to smile.

“You have a plan? That sounds dangerous.”

“Tease all you want, but I have all the confidence in this plan.”

“Well, out with it. What have you come up with?”

Thorin shook his head teasingly. “You’ll have to wait. I want it to be a surprise.”

Bilbo linked his arms around the dwarf’s neck for leverage as he started showering him with kisses at his jaw, the corner of his mouth, and his throat.

“And I couldn’t persuade you to tell me any sooner?”

“You are cruel, thundanûd (tiny embrace).” Thorin moaned, his hands resting on Bilbo’s arms.

“It’s only cruel if you don’t accept the invitation.” Bilbo teased back as he pulled at the prince’s tunic to allow him access to his collarbone.

Thorin shuddered once with want before finding the strength to pull away. He grasped Bilbo’s hands again as he kissed him deeply as an apology.

“Later. There will be time later. But now...we are having dinner with my family.”

Bilbo’s building fire of lust was immediately doused, a small frown settled on his forehead that Thorin attempted to kiss away. Lovely, the in-laws.

It certainly wasn’t that Bilbo wanted them to like him. He could honestly care less. It was just their dislike of him that made it really difficult for him to do...well, much of anything. Thrain, still mourning the loss of his dead wife, remained suspicious and hardened against Bilbo for the sheer fact that he was a hobbit. Their marriage had yet to be announced to the Council or even the mountain in general. Keeping Bilbo out of the public eye was Thrain’s number one priority which was certainly no hardship. It was Frerin and Dis he had the biggest problems with. Thorin’s brother and sister, ever loyal to him, seemed to think Bilbo wasn’t good enough for the dwarf, and constantly had Balin, the royal advisor, keeping tabs on him. Bilbo was reluctant to admit the dwarf’s keen eyes and sharp wit, but it had taken quite a few of Bilbo’s best moves to lose his tails before entering the secret tunnels.

Therefore, coming together in the Royal Dining Room for “family dinners” was a...stilted affair. There were only two redeeming features to those evenings. One, it was always the best food Bilbo had ever eaten in his life. And two, Thorin’s nephews, Fili and Kili, were not the least bit bothered by him and had some story worth telling that took the edge of him for a little bit at least.

“And then the axe sailed through the air and straight into the boar’s head. So technically, technically we aren’t responsible for the mess in the trophy room.” Kili finished.

“No.” Vili, their father snorted. “Just responsible for startling the poor guard that set off the chain of events.”

“Well how were we supposed to know he was right there?” Fili defended.

Bilbo snorted in spite of himself. “Watch the shadows.”

He immediately tensed after he said it as he waited for the barrage of insults to be hurtled his way.

“Spoken like a true thief.” Dis sneered.

Yep, right on cue.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t corrupt my sons.” She continued.

“Namad…” Thorin warned softly.

Thrain’s hand met the tabletop in a harsh bang. “What have I said about speaking our language in front of the Halfling?!”

Bilbo sighed and turned his attention to his soup as the line of Durin flexed their tempers. Thorin rising to his defense, Dis and Thrain attempting to argue their points louder, Frerin leaving snide quips here and there, and Vili trying and failing to keep the peace. The joy of family dinners.

“Actually, while we’re on this subject, I have something to say.” Thorin demanded, his voice low and regal. “I will be gone the remainder of the week.”

Everyone, including Bilbo, froze and stared up at Thorin in relative confusion and outrage. The prince’s eyes were boring holes straight into his father whose scowl would be enough to frighten wargs off at this point.

“And just where will you be?” The king finally spat.

Thorin reached down for Bilbo’s hand making the hobbit supremely discomforted. Thorin’s eyes were soft and pleading though as they met his.

“We will be taking the Trial of Souls.”

“We’ll be doing what now?” Bilbo questioned.

“Thorin…” Dis murmured at a surprisingly subdued volume, her eyebrows knitted together.

“Finally! A sensible idea!” Frerin declared. 

All eyes rested on the brunette as he raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t you think? I mean, to put it bluntly, everyone at this table has been trying to convince Thorin out of this marriage in some way. When they don’t emerge from the tunnels together, that would be a pretty good indicator of the truth.”

“We haven’t. We like Bilbo.” Kili reminded softly.

Bilbo shot the troublemakers a quick smile of thanks. They were idiots, but they were sweet. Meanwhile, Thrain was rubbing his beard in thought before nodding once.

“Yes, this will do well. In fact, if you make it through all five chambers, I’ll hold a feast in honor and publically accept your union.”

Thorin nodded, still looking rather cross with his father. “As I’d hoped.”

Bilbo found he couldn’t take it anymore. “Now, wait! Wait just a minute! What is this...Trial of Souls?”

Thorin stared at his father for permission, and the king granted it almost the picture of satisfaction. Being a gambler, it made Bilbo largely nervous as Thorin turned back towards him.

“It’s a series of tests to prove two dwarves...or in our case, a dwarf and a hobbit, are Ones.”

Bilbo’s mouth opened and shut a couple of times, but no words were able to come out.

“Problem, Halfling?” Dis questioned with mock innocence.

“Thorin, a moment if you please.” Bilbo was finally able to say as he pulled his stone-headed husband out into the hall.

“Are you serious?!” He finally rounded on him.

“What?” Thorin questioned.

“Thorin, I…” Bilbo fought for the right words without making this worse. “I don’t understand. What exactly do we have to prove? We’re married. Shouldn’t that be enough?!”

Thorin sighed. “It should. You are correct, ibinê (my gem). But don’t you see? It’s perfect! My family will be satisfied by our success at the Trials, and it’ll be irrefutable evidence to the rest of the mountain if any rose to challenge us. And politics aside, I want this for us.”

“Us?” Bilbo repeated too numb to be completely in control of his mouth.

“Yes!” Thorin nodded eagerly. “Couples that pass the Trials of Souls find they become closer than ever. Our...relationship hasn’t been for very long, and I respect that your past is painful to you, but I want to know you azyungel (love of loves). I want to know everything there is to know about my husband, and share myself in return. What do you say?”

Now being a hardened thief, the hobbit knew a thing or two about how to get out of a seemingly hopeless situation. However, as his mind swirled and swirled around the damnable logic of Thorin’s decision, he found himself becoming dizzy and nauseated. That was it then. Bilbo was doomed. He had just enough time to get out a soft ‘nope’ before he fell over in a dead faint.

#birthdayplotbunnies #bagginshield #thilbo #starterdrabbles #Bilbo would be much happier if his husband would quit trying to love him

[the-hinky-panda]

Day 27: Concoction

10/27: Concoction

Universe // Characters: Den of Thieves - Penny Universe // Benny “Borracho” Magalon 

You had no idea what you had just signed up for when you agreed to go to Mexico. You did know more about Benny than you let on, asking Nick about his coworkers more and more often. You were able to pick up minor details from your brother before suspicion halted your questions. The most important thing you learned is that Nick trusted him more than anyone else on the team. Of course you didn’t have the details as to why that trust had been given, but the mere fact that it was there spoke volumes. 

That was the foundation for your decision to go to Mexico with him. Everything else, the waiting for news of when the rescheduled flight would leave, the flight there, and the ride to his Uncle’s home a couple blocks from the beach, just confirmed that this has the potential to be a good experience. Being around Benny is the opposite of being around Nick. Benny is quiet, not having to constantly fill the time with words or tasteless jokes. Conversation runs smoothly, effortlessly. You’re not waiting for a blow up or walking on eggshells around certain topics. 

It’s relaxing being in his company. 

You’re trying to figure out how to keep up this friendship when you get back to California without Nick finding out and making Benny’s life miserable when he touches your arm to get your attention. 

“Watch out for Luisa, she’s the middle sister,” he warns quietly as you walk up to the front door of the house. “She’s known for mixing drinks and hiding large quantities of coconut rum in them. We call those concoctions ‘truth tellers.’  They'll knock you on your ass and then all three sisters will start asking you questions.” 

Considering some of the things Nick had pulled with you over the years, this sounds fairly innocuous. “Don’t hammer the fruity drinks. Got it.” 

“And if you want to tap out at any time, just let me know.” 

You don’t know why, but his concern touches you more than it should. You manage to give him a smile before the front door opens and chaos ensues. There must be close to thirty people in the house. Kids are playing with their newly acquired toys from the Christmas morning present opening. The smell of food hits and reminds you of just how long it’s been since you’ve eaten some real, home cooked food. The house has large, vaulted ceilings, a huge family room decorated riotously for Christmas, and every available surface in the kitchen has offers of food. 

You meet a few important players, like his mother and uncle, before food and drinks are shoved into your hands. His mother is a stately woman, nicely dressed, hair and make-up well done, and a refined elegance to her. His uncle is more boisterous, barrel chested and full of warmth and welcome. You’re surprised that they greet you with genuine interest but then realize you are being presented as his first girlfriend after a divorce. But they’re polite enough to not bombard you with questions right at the start. 

You end up finding a quiet corner in the living room at a small breakfast bar and try to just stay out of the way while eating some of the best food you’ve ever tasted. But it doesn’t take long for a brightly colored cocktail to be set down in front of you by a pretty young woman. You notice her eyes are the same shade as Benny’s, as is the twist in her smile. 

“I’m Luisa.” 

You give her your real name in return. It’ll be nice to go through a holiday without hearing “Penny” shouted every five minutes. God, you hated that nickname. “I appreciate you all welcoming me to your family gathering.” 

“Well, when Benny said that his new girlfriend had her plans canceled for Christmas,” she shrugs, “what else could we do?” 

You pick up on the undercurrent of suspicion in her tone. “You could have said no.” 

She gives you a slightly surprised look at your forwardness before a true smile creeps across her face. She pushes the drink towards you. “I like you.” 

“Thank you.” You take a sip and sure enough, there’s the coconut rum underneath fresh, sweet fruit juices. It tastes like mango and pineapple. Luisa engages in small talk until about half the drink is gone. Unfortunately for her, you’re Irish, which means you cut your teeth on whiskey in your baby bottle. Literally. But she doesn’t need to know that. 

“How long have you and Benny been going out?” 

“Not that long.” 

“How did you meet?” 

“My brother works with him at the Sheriff's office.” 

“Are you divorced?” 

“No, I’ve never been married.” 

“Kids?” 

“No.” 

“You know he’s divorced, right?” 

You nod. “Six months now, right?” 

“Seven, actually.” She pauses. “Did you know her?” 

“Never met her, no.” You think about asking Luisa about Benny’s ex but don’t want to come across as jealous or insecure. You are the new girlfriend after all. “So tell me about yourself. What do you do?” 

“Marketing. I manage the accounts of the clients on the business side. Did you not meet his ex because you were cheating with him?” 

Right for the jugular and you weren’t even finished with the drink yet. “You accusing your brother of stepping out? Because that seems like something I should know before we go further. Is he a cheater?” 

Luisa gives you a completely shocked look before breaking into a wide smile, and raising her wine glass to the other two sisters across the room. “I like her, she’s good!”  She turns back to you. “And just so you know, she stepped out on him.” 

Benny comes over to where you're sitting and leans on the back of the bar stool. “What are you doing to her? She hasn’t even been here an hour, Lu.” 

“Just telling her about the puta-” 

“Hey, hey,” he interrupts her, “what’d I say about calling her that?” 

Luisa shrugs. “Well, she was.” 

“No more talking about my ex.” 

“Alright,” Lusia says, “what did Benny get you for Christmas?” 

You can feel him tense behind you, hear the hold he has on the back of the barstool tighten. But you just reach for the chain around your neck and show her the simple circle sapphire pendant. 

Lusia nods. “Impressive, Ben.”

You flash him a smile over your shoulder. “I thought so.” 

He leans down and kisses your cheek but uses it as a cover to whisper a quick “thanks” before he’s pulled away by a group of his nephews who want to show him their new drone. The conversation between you and Luisa warms to more friendly topics so when Benny’s two other sisters join, it’s a pleasant interaction. His uncle asks you about your food preferences, pulls out a couple dishes from the oven and piles your plate up with seconds. It takes you most of the afternoon to work through that round, which was just as good as the first. When the sun starts to drop towards the horizon, everyone grabs a chair or blanket and walks the two blocks to the beach. You wonder where Benny and the kids managed to go but you see they’ve actually staked off a large section of the beach and started a bonfire. 

A large cooler with beers and cans of wine is dropped in the sand and you grab two beers before unfolding the blanket you had grabbed. As soon as you land in the soft sand, Benny joins you, picking up the second beer thankfully. 

“I’m getting too old to keep up with them.” 

“You’ve also been up for almost 48 hours,” you remind him. 

“So have you.” He leans back on his elbows. “You ready to tap out yet?” 

You look around the bonfire, everyone spread out in their groups, together but still semi-private. The warmth of the fire pairs well with the chilly sea breeze and beer. You can hear the crash of the waves in the distance, the pop and crackle of the fire, and the low murmur of happy voices. It’s quite honestly the nicest Christmas evening you’ve had in years. “No, I’m good.” 

“Okay.” 

You finish the beer and then lay down on the soft sand. The sky is clear, stars scattered across the night sky. Just when you didn’t think the evening could get even more enjoyable, Benny follows your lead and lays down next to you, your shoulders touching and entwining his fingers with yours. You know it’s for show but a part of you enjoys the feeling of having someone close, touching you. It’s been a couple years since your last relationship and you’ve missed this physicality. 

But Benny complicates the matter for you. He’s a nice guy. A really nice guy based on what you’ve gathered from the last two days spent with him. His family seems to back up your observations. His sisters didn’t say one negative thing about him. If anything, they made it sound like he was the ultimate protector of the family. His uncle smiled whenever he said Benny’s name, smiled large enough that the corner of his eyes crinkled and a dimple appeared in his cheek. His nephews adored him given they were still climbing on him after three hours of playing on the beach. 

There’s a part of you that wishes this isn’t a scam and you’re not quite sure what to do with that realization.

#Hinky's October Fic Fest #benny magalon #benny borracho magalon #benny magalon x reader #benny magalon x you

[lost-kiwi-dev]

Can you do 44 for Tarasovich please? 👉🏻👈🏻

mc x y tarasovich. 1.1k. angst. "Tell me you love me one more time."

The Underground was dangerous. 

Man, understatement of the year. 

When you first started investigating your sister’s murder, you knew the danger you were putting yourself into. 

You’d heard the stories. Murders, drug addicts, drug dealers, thieves - they all called the Underground home. These were the scum of the earth, willing to do absolutely anything to further themselves and themselves only. They wouldn’t go easy on you simply because you weren’t from the Underground. If anything it made you even more of a target.

You knew that you were, essentially, throwing yourself straight into the lion’s den. 

Despite that all, you did it anyway. And who would have known you would end up falling for the leader of one of the most notorious gangs to ever exist. 

Y was as charming as anything and swept you off your feet within a matter of moments. You’d never fallen for someone as hard as you did for Y, and you wouldn’t trade the time you’d spent with them for the world. 

If only the honeymoon period from the start of your relationship could have lasted forever. 

You should have seen it coming, really. Falling in love with a literal gang leader was always going to pose problems. The overprotectiveness, increased chances of being a target for rival gangs, and a lack of substantial time with your significant other had put a heavy strain on your relationship. The only time you spent with Y now was filled with harsh words and angry looks. 

“Y’s leaving for the target location in a few minutes,” spoke the familiar voice of Mo, Y’s second in command, as they came to a standstill beside you. They paused for a brief moment as they rolled kinks from their shoulders. “Thought they might appreciate it if you said goodbye to them.”

“I’ll think about it,” you grunted in response, unwilling to show your friend just how desperately you wanted to hold Y in your arms one last time. 

“We don’t know when they will be back,” Mo continued, and when you just shrugged they let out a long, insufferable sigh. “I’m sick of you two avoiding each other. You can’t resolve anything if you won’t even talk to Y.”

You knew what Mo was saying was true. There was no way you would be able to salvage your relationship within the mere minutes you’d have with them, but you probably should at least wish them good luck.

You finally gave Mo a decisive nod and spun on your heel, they called out from behind you, “you can find Y in their office!”

When you arrived at your destination you were greeted by swarms of members of the gang, all loaded up to the hilt with rifles, pistols, knives, and an assortment of other weapons. 

You approached a soldier you chatted to a couple of times, who informed you the person you were seeking was inside talking over tactics with a few other members. You pushed your way through the crowd and into Y’s office. 

Inside stood your partner, hunched over their desk along with two other men. Y glanced up when they heard the door click shut, and straightened up when they noticed just who was gifting them a visit. 

“You know the plan?” Y asked, and the two men nodded. Y smacked their palm against the table and said, “great, then you can leave, boys. This won’t take a minute.”

The men gave you courteous nods as they passed you and shut the door behind them. Y seemed to be avoiding your gaze as they scooped up the large map covering their desk and rolled it up into a flimsy circle. 

God, when did things get so awkward between you?

You cleared your throat. You weren’t entirely sure if you were here to apologise for the recent argument you’d had - the one that had sent Y into their office for the past three days without a word uttered to you - or whether you were going to wish them good luck. 

“You’re going on a mission.” It wasn’t a question, but more a careful poke at breaching the topic of them leaving. “What is it?”

“We recently found an opportunity to take down those Purgatory bastards once and for all. We’ve had an infiltrator tearing them down from the inside for the past few months, and now we are going to strike.”

You gulped. You knew the kind of danger Y was putting themself in daily, but there was something so scary knowing they were heading straight into rival gang territory and may not walk out alive. 

“That’s that other gang, right? This mission sounds really risky.”

Y laughed, but the sound was lifeless, hollow, and not at all what you were used to hearing. “Everything I do is risky, love.”

“But you might not survive this.” Your words came out faintly, helplessly. Your relationship may not be perfect, but you couldn’t imagine what you would do if you didn’t have Y by your side. 

“That’s just all part of the job.” Y shrugged, showing no emotion over the fact they may not survive this mission. They started walking towards you, towards the door, and you threw your hand out to stop them. 

“You love me, don’t you?” 

Your question gave Y pause, their body freezing so quickly you were afraid they were no longer breathing. Painstakingly slowly, they turned from the exit to face you, a sad smile on their face. 

“Of course I do, love.”

Your body was flooded with relief. You sensed some hesitancy from Y, but at least they hadn’t ignored you. You don’t think your heart would be able to heal from that kind of rejection. 

“Then tell me you do,” you ordered, your voice hitching with each successive word. “If you’re so willing to throw away your life, at least tell me you love me one more time.”

That sad smile graced their face once again, and as they took a step towards you you found yourself wishing you could read what lay behind their icy blue eyes. 

You felt the whisper of their breath on your cheek when they voiced their next words. “I love you. If you remember anything from our relationship, remember that.”

Their lips planted a ghost of a soft kiss against your forehead, their lungs sucking the scent of your lotion that they were so familiar with. After only a few moments they pulled away, shot you a regretful smile, and exited their office without another word.

#i went SO overboard with this LOL #1.1k words? #for a DRABBLE? #y tarasovich #thank you for requesting this anon!! #we all bleed red #not edited sorry!