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slayfics · 6 months

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hi hi !! do u accept part 2 requests ? bc i really loved ur cam boy katsuki 😭 to see them meet and do the deed has been behind my mind ever since reading it RARAAAAAAAHDBSJA 🥺🩵

Camboy Katsuki.

Warnings: NSFW | Katsuki aged up

3,400 words~

Chapter links

Chapter 2

Who would have thought a simple trip to the grocery store could have turned out this way?

You scanned over the vegetables attempting to find the ripest ones. Finally selecting a cucumber to place in a bag, you heard a booming voice come from behind you. The voice called you by a username you had only used for a particularly mischievous website.

You nearly stopped breathing when you turned around to see Katsuki Bakugo behind you eyeing you and your selection of vegetables.

All those times you had paid to watch him on your computer, and now he was standing right in front of you. For a moment, you were positive you were hallucinating until he spoke again.

"I knew it was you, I wouldn't forget that sexy face anywhere. What the hell are you doing? Hasn't anyone ever taught you how to pick out good vegetables? Put that shitty thing back," he said grabbing the bag from your hand and tossing the cucumber back. "Here you go, this one looks more your size," he said laughing with a wink as he handed you a much larger cucumber.

Fucking say something! You yelled at yourself internally, but no words were produced from your brain to your mouth. Instead, you just stared in awe at seeing the man you had lusted for so long standing in front of you. No longer just an image on a screen, but a real person. It froze your brain to see him in casual clothes, a drawstring orange hoodie, and black pants. Somehow, he looked even more attractive in these than all the times you had seen him nude.

"Damn, you're even hotter in person you know that," he said as he picked out his own groceries. "What are the odds we live around the same area? Must be your lucky day, hm?" he said, turning to look at you expecting a response.

Instead, all he received was a shaky "Mhm~" from you.

"Tch, too star-struck to even talk to me, hu? That's fine, tell you what- if you want to see the real thing tonight, come to my place. I'm going to start streaming at 8PM. You can have a front-row seat. Be warned though you'll be in the splash zone," he said with another booming laugh. "If you're interested, send me a DM, and I'll give you the address," he spoke as he walked off.

What the fuck.

Once he was gone you realized how abnormally hard you were griping onto the cucumber, you lightened your grip and let out a frustrated breath.

I really didn't even fucking say a word to him, you thought to yourself.

Shit.

What were you going to do? You had to go, right? But fuck. Were you just going to sit their mouth agape unable to get out a fucking word again?

No.

You'd be prepared this time. You hurried through the rest of your grocery list to make it home by 6:30PM. That gave you about an hour to get ready assuming he didn't live too far.

Once you unpacked all your groceries you took out your phone to navigate to the live cam app. Hands shaking, you typed him a DM asking for the address.

That's my dirty girl, I knew you'd want to come.

He messaged back followed by his address. Your jaw dropped as soon as you pasted it into your maps app.

All this time- he was only 15 minutes away.

Crap, what to wear was the problem. He invited you just to watch, right? So, maybe it didn't matter but- you pulled out your most provocative laundry you had that had long been forgotten in the back of your drawer.

Putting it on you, you remembered just how uncomfortable it was. However, any uncomfortableness would be rewarded if things happened to escalate tonight.

You rushed to finish getting ready and then swiftly headed out to him.

You couldn't count how many times you fantasized about where he lived, and what the rest of his place looked like, pulling up to the address it was strange to see it was just an average apartment. But, you couldn't help but wonder, what did the rest of his life look like? What was his day job? Who were his friends? What were his hobbies?

Your heart raced as you knocked on the apartment door. You took a deep breath as you prepared to redeem yourself. However, all of that went out the window when he opened the door.

"Hey there sexy, come in I'll show you the setup," he said waving you in. One sight of him caused your brain to malfunction again.

Fuck.

Why did he already have to be wearing his signature muscle shirt and sweats that you had watched him peel off of himself so many times? As if your body was trained to react to the sight of him you already felt yourself beginning to slip. It was too much seeing him like this in person. How the hell were you going to keep your composure watching him live stream pleasuring himself in front of you?

"This is where it happens, but then again you're already well aware of that," he said with a smirk as he walked you to his bedroom. "I keep the laptop here on this stand, it gives me more freedom to do my stuff. I also keep the stream up on my PC here, so if you want to read the comments coming in you can. This area of the room stays off-camera so you can sit anywhere here. I won't mention you or show your face or anything so don't be concerned about that, and uh- don't be afraid to get comfortable while you're watching if you know what I mean," he said winking at you. "You're more than welcome to give me a show back."

You swallowed hard. Come on, redeem your fucking self, say something, you thought.

"Guess you'll have to make sure it's a good show then," you said smiling back at him.

"Oh shit, she speaks," He teased. "I'll make sure the show is worthy of you stripping down right here to play with your pussy. Don't you worry," he said laughing.

Just like that, you felt all ounce of cool you had slipped away again. How were his words always so damn paralyzing?

"Alright well it's show time so, get comfortable over there," he said as he sat down in his usual spot in front of his laptop.

From where you were sitting, you could see the live stream on his PC as well as him in person sitting in front of his laptop. The PC showed he was now live.

"Takes a little while for people to log on, usually you're the first," he said giving you a smirk. "So, I guess we'll have to see who's going to be first this time instead."

Not long after a few usernames you had usually seen in the chat had joined.

"Always good to see repeat customers," he said into the camera greeting his viewers. "How is everyone doing tonight?"

You read some of the comments from the PC.

Ready to see you touch yourself.

Better now that I'm here with you.

"Awe, you're all so eager as always aren't you? Well, you know what you have to do then," he said with a sly smirk.

Just like that tips came pouring into the chat and even more people joined to view. It was shocking to see exactly how much money he made from this hobby.

Katsuki stripped off his sweats and began to palm at his bulge through his boxer briefs in the same way he always did. You cursed the laptop that had been blocking your view of precisely what you wanted to see. Shamelessly, you moved spots to sit at a better angle.

Katsuki looked over at you for a split second, his eyes gleaming and his smirk spreading even wider as he saw your greedy eyes looking at his growing bulge.

"Does everyone have a good view?" He asked seemingly to his viewers but was looking directly at you. You held in a gasp at his sneakiness and couldn't help the blush that ignited on your face at his attention.

Viewers poured in comments about how good he looked, and that the angle he was in was perfect.

"Good- so tell me what's next then?" he asked, as his bulge was now fully grown. He pinched the tip of his penis through his boxer briefs and stared directly at you. You felt your face become hot, and your whole body felt frozen in place. How the fuck were you supposed to handle this? You thought he'd just be watching the computer the whole time, not looking at you.

Comments and tips poured in asking him to strip, and he followed through.

"You dirty sluts, have what you want then," he said as he pulled his shirt off over his head.

Comments again poured in fawning over how hot he was, how toned his body was.

His bulge was now almost begging to be set free from his boxers and he milked every second of it.

"I'm sorry what is it you all want? You're going to have to ask nicely. Don't be shy, tell me exactly what you want me to do," he said, breaths now becoming heavy.

Katsuki read and replied to more comments, "Oh, you want to see my dick, hu? Fucking filthy, aren't you? Fine then, be good to me and maybe I'll reward you," He panted out.

Tips came flooding in and his eyes grazed over to you once more.

"Alright then, have what you've been begging for," he said as he slid his boxers down, revealing his cock.

Katsuki's eyes were locked directly onto you, watching your reaction to his reveal. Shamefully, you hadn't noticed his gaze as your eyes had been watching eagerly as he slid his boxers down. Seeing him revealed in person was exhilarating. Absentmindedly, you bit your lip as your thighs pressed tightly together.

Katsuki began to slowly run his hand up and down the full length of his shaft, causing your thighs to tighten even closer together.

Fuck.

Every nerve in your body screamed for you to go touch him, or at the very least, touch yourself. The heat coming from between your legs was unbearable.

"Is everyone having a good time?" Katsuki asked, again seemingly to his viewers, but when you looked up, you noticed his eyes locked on to yours.

Fuck, how long had he been watching you? You squirmed even more under his intense gaze.

"Don't be shy, have a good time with me," he spoke, voice raspy and heavy with lust.

Fuck.

Was he really asking you to touch yourself? He joked about it before but, did he really mean it?

Losing all dignity, your hand hungrily found its way to pull down your bottoms, revealing the bottom part of your provocative laundry you had picked out.

Thong and lace high stockings revealed Katsuki let out a heavy, "Fuck," he said, his eyes eagerly taking you in.

Your fingers found your clit and began to rub slow circle motions over yourself.

Katsuki's breaths became erratic, and his eyes snapped to the camera as if almost forgetting it was there.

"Shit, hmm, how are you all doing hu?" He asked, grunting as he continued his strokes, his cock now glistening with pre cum.

Comments flooded in, encouraging him to cum.

"Something tells me that'll be especially easy tonight," he said, a smirk on his face as his eyes wandered over to you once more.

You should care.

You should care that you've let go of all shame. That you're fingering yourself sitting on some random dude's floor. But you don't. It's fucking exhilarating, and you feel yourself getting close as you continue the motions around your clit.

Katsuki begins to moan as he strokes himself, and his moans bring you over the edge. You cover your mouth as your head flings back against his wall, fingers still buried between your things. You catch your moans into your hands so as to not alarm his viewers, and then there you are making a mess on his floor.

One sight of you drags him over the edge. Your legs spread open, the perfect view of your release dripping down from your slit onto his floor, causing his own limit to break. The room is filled with his moans as his release spills all over his abandoned. Like so many times you've seen before but this time, you know it was for you.

Katsuki gives his viewers a quick goodbye as he signs off hastily and shuts his laptop.

"God damn, you're fucking hot," he says breathlessly. "Did you wear that because you thought we were going to fuck?" he asks, eyes grazing over your laundry.

"I uh-" You stammer trying to catch your breath from your own excitement.

"Never mind, tell you what babe- if you can get me hard again, I'll give you the real thing," he said eyes full of lust.

You felt your breath catch in your throat. The real thing? He'd really fuck you? The man you've fantasized about for countless nights- was offering to make every filthy fantasy you'd ever have come true.

You didn't speak but moved to him right away stumbling off the floor.

"Hold on, I'll get cleaned up," he said beginning to stand up out of his chair.

"No need," you said, pushing him back down to sit. "I'll clean you up," you spoke eyes locked with his as you took a lick of his release off his abdomen.

"Oh, fuck kitten, where the hell have you been my whole life?" he asked, laughing.

You continued to lick up the release off of Katsuki as soft moans escaped him while he took in the sight. His moans only encouraged you further. It was exhilarating to hear his moans and know they were just for you and not for the pleasure of all his viewers.

"Damn," He panted watching you, "I don't think it's gonna take me much longer to be ready at this rate, you really are something else. Never would have guessed you were down this bad."

Having completely licked him clean, Katsuki placed a hand around your arm, "Get up and sit down on the bed," he instructed, as his hand guided you up.

You eagerly obeyed him and sat down on his bed.

"I want to see the rest of this slutty outfit you put on," he said as he guided your shirt over your head dropping it to the floor.

"Fuck," he exclaimed taking in your full laundry outfit. "This is hot as fucking hell. Tell me, what were you hoping to accomplish in this outfit, hm?" He said placing a finger under your chin and forcing you to look up at him.

You opened your mouth attempting to sound confident but his crimson eyes looking directly into yours made it impossible to think, "I...," You tried to say but got lost in his gaze.

"Come on, don't get shy on me again. All you have to do is ask to get what you want," he said as he began to stroke himself again in preparation.

"I... I want to feel you inside," you managed to squeak out.

Katsuki smirked at you, one hand still under your chin the other stroking himself as his excitement began to grow once again, "That's a good girl. Let me feel how you're doing."

Katsuki moved his hand from under your chin and placed it between your thighs. Pushing aside your laundry his finger found your entrance. You let out an audible gasp as you felt yourself stretch around his finger. Your whole body shivered, and a moan escaped your lips at the intrusion.

"So much pleasure from just one finger, hm? I love what I do to you," he laughed. "You're so fucking wet, don't worry I won't keep you waiting long," he said as another finger found its way to your entrance, stretching you farther.

You leaned forward to rest your head on his chest and gripped his arm for support, closing your eyes as he began to curl his fingers inside you.

"Fuck, bet I could make you cum from just this couldn't, I?" He laughed again. "But... that's not what you really want is it?" He asked

The only answer Katsuki received back was your increasing moans.

"I'm sorry I don't understand. You have to tell me, how do you want to cum? Are just my fingers enough for you?" he asked.

"Mmm~ n- no-..." you answered, voice shaking and heavy with pleasure.

"Then what, say it, say what you want," he encouraged you.

"Y-you..."

He let out an exasperated chuckle, "Me? Well, I'm right here... come on, tell me. I want to hear it." He demanded.

"I want... I want your cock," you finally confessed.

Katsuki let out a deep groan, "Fucking perfect, lay back," He instructed, as he removed his fingers leaving you throbbing and desperate for more.

You followed his command and laid back on the bed, finally having the confidence to open your eyes again. Katsuki was above you, his cock fully ready and glistening with pre cum once again, "look at that, you made it so easy to get hard again. How could I not with how fucking dirty you are? How many times have you fantasized about this, hm? Cum to the thoughts of my dick inside you. Now you get to feel the real thing," he said, as he hungrily stripped off your laundry ripping pieces in the process.

"I'd ask if you are ready but, that seems like a fucking stupid question, doesn't it? I can see how damn eager you are for me, you're already making a mess of my damn bed," he laughed.

Katsuki grabbed your legs and placed them to rest on his shoulders, using your thighs for support he pulled you closer to him. Without another word, he guided himself into your entrance and pushed himself inside you.

The room seemed to vanish as you saw stars once he entered you. After all those times you imagined what he would feel like, to feel him in person was overwhelming. Beyond euphoric, and unlike any rush you'd ever had in your life.

"You look so fucked out already and I haven't even started moving yet," he teased.

Gripping your thighs tighter, Katsuki began to thrust inside you.

You felt your brain turn to mush as he pushed rhythmically into you until his full length was plunged inside you. The high only intensified as you watched him. His face was tilted down watching his cock appear and disappear inside you with each thrust.

The expression on his face was all too intoxicating. You felt something inside you breaking. Not once in your life had you ever come from pure penetration, but the high from seeing Katsuki in person fucking you was bringing you to your end.

It was better than any wet dream you had ever had about him, and the feeling of your walls stretched around him was a sensation you didn't know existed.

"Holy fuck- are you going to cum on my dick?" he asked, looking up at you, sweat beading up on his forehead. "Your body is shaking- fuck yeah cum for me kitten," he groaned and quickened his pace, overcome by the rush of your body's reaction to his.

Your moans rang louder through the room as you felt the twist of pleasure form in your abdomen, with each thrust it grew and spread. Until your whole body was overcome with pleasure. You screamed out his name as you reached the peak of your climax.

"Fuck," he moaned as your walls clenched down around him. "God damn squeezing me so tight," he panted as he still thrust into you allowing you to ride out your climax. "Shit I-" Katuski moaned once more as he met his own limit. Warmth erupted inside you as he released and painted your walls.

Katsuki milked out every last thrust ensuring he had filled you with everything he had, before pulling out and collapsing next to you on the bed.

Catching his breath, he let out a laugh, "Kitten, you can come be my live audience anytime you want."

Thank you for requesting this! I had such a fun time writing it hehe 🤭.

Tags: @unofficialmuilover

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tadpolesonalgae · 8 months

Text

Azriel x Cam-Girl!Reader: His Personal Assistant

A/N: I just— Azriel in a suit and tie? Getting all hot and bothered because he recognises reader from her late-night streams that he spends his evenings watching? How am I supposed to resist that?

Also, apologies to anyone named Kieth :)

Warnings: slight work-place harassment

-Part 2-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

“Really?”

Helion gives you a smile, “I told you: anything. I can’t imagine why you would want to, but—”

You’ve already launched yourself at him, arms wrapping securely over his wonderfully muscled shoulders, dark skin contrasting gloriously with the crisp white polo he’s wearing that stretches over his chest. The top few buttons are undone in the summer heat, giving a simultaneously tantalising and teasing view. Enough to have your mouth watering, enough to pique your interest, but not enough to reveal anything else. An appetising suggestion.

“Thank-you!” You squeeze him tight and his laugh reverberates through your breasts, nipples peaking in response to the deliciously deep sound. His large hands span your waist, squeezing back and his breath tickles your neck. You press a smacking kiss to his cheekbone, sliding down his body until your flats land on the terrace—warmed by the sun.

“I’m not sure you’ll be thanking me by the end of the month, Luscious,” he chuckles, using your stage name, releasing you as you step away again, still smiling broadly. “I think you’ll be bored to tears by the end of your first day there.”

“Nonsense. I’ve always wanted to see how normal people live their lives,” you counter, grinning confidently. “Besides, how did you manage? It’s not like I have a particularly outstanding CV or anything…” You squint your eyes at him, “what strings did you pull to get me this job?”

Helion smiles, gesturing to continue the walk through his garden. “A good friend from my university days owed me a favour for something in the past,” he explains, eyes twinkling. “One of his directors has a habit of overworking himself—he thinks a personal assistant might do the trick. You’ll be there to give them an extension on finding a suitable fill for the role.”

Your nose crinkles a little, “so…what’ll I be doing? And what sort of job is it? Tell me I’m going to get one of those fancy chairs. You know, all big and executive? That have wheels on the bottom and spin around?” You ask excitedly. You gasp, “will I get a desk, too?” Helion laughs again, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “You’ll be filled in on the details when you get there. As far as I know, it’ll be fairly straight forward: photocopying, emailing, getting coffees—general admin tasks.”

Sounds fun—interesting.

“You probably won’t sit in on any meetings, since he runs a pretty prestigious law firm, but hopefully it won’t be too much of a bore.” He winks over his shoulder and you grin broadly. “How big is the building? Is it far from me?”

“Yes, it’s a skyscraper. And about a twenty minute drive—if you avoid rush hour,” he replies, moving toward the fountain. You could whoop with joy, but manage to restrain yourself. “Thanks again, Helion,” you say, still bursting with happiness—you’re going to get to work a real, normal job!

Your boss just grins over his shoulder, eyes gleaming, “don’t thank me yet.”

You don’t really consider his warning, instead launching more questions his way: What will you wear? How long is the work day? Will you get a decent lunch break?

————

Monday morning, you’re up and ready.

You’d selected your clothes the day before, having gone on a mini shopping spree to get in some appropriate attire for a law firm—which was both and arduous and fun task. A law firm…how grown-up!

The week before, you’d poured over the short and concise email you’d been forwarded from Helion, informing you about dress codes, break times, and when you’re expected to be there, accompanied with parking directions. You’d smiled to yourself that night, before stripping off your clothes, hopping in your shower, then switching on the webcam as you settled in your spare bedroom.

Helion hadn’t been lying when he’d told you the building was a skyscraper, complete with large windows and—most impressively—solar panels covering the elevated roof. The sun is out, making you second guess your cardigan, but hopefully there will be AC inside to counteract the heat. Checking your phone for the email, you step inside the building.

Five minutes later, you’re knocking on a looming door that leads to a room overlooking the entire city—he’s on the top floor. When there’s no answer, you peer at your phone, rereading the email. You’re definitely where you’re supposed to be—maybe a little early, but that’s never a bad thing. You perk up when you hear your name, footsteps drawing closer as you turn to greet whoever it is.

You conceal your shock perfectly—he’s so young! He can’t be older than his early-thirties—and so handsome, too! What a pleasant surprise. Your red-painted lips split into a carefully crafted smile, designed to be both alluring and demure, extending your hand before you, “I am expected, aren’t I?”

The man stops before you, eyes flicking to your hand as he grasps it firmly, gaze piercing into you. The shake is firm and assertive, more of a yank on your arm than the polite gesture you had expected. “You were supposed to wait at reception to be escorted to my office,” he says in a stern, but not unkind, voice. “I was expecting to find you there, but it seems you like to take initiative.”

Your smile morphs to a grin, “that I do.”

His lip twitches, but he gestures to his door, walking inside as he moves for his desk, muttering something under his breath: handful, indeed. You shut the door behind yourself, the slightly clouded floor to ceiling windows that separate his office from the hallway registering dimly in the back of your mind.

“You must be Rhys, then. The friend Helion mentioned,” you probe, taking the seat in front of his large desk. The chair is wonderfully comfy, making you want to purr. Somehow, you don’t feel he would appreciate the reaction. “Rhysand, yes. But you will not be addressing me so,” he replies smoothly, opening his suitcase and pulling out his laptop. “How much has Helion told you about your work experience?” He asks without looking up, preoccupied with commencing what is probably his daily routine of work.

“He said something about working as a temporary P.A. to one of your workaholic directors,” you drawl. There’s that lip twitch again. Not too bad, then. First impressions seem to be going okay. “He also mentioned not getting any ideas concerning bringing my prior work experience to your firm,” you say smoothly, offering a polite smile, watching for his reaction.

He doesn’t remove his attention from the laptop, deft fingers already flying over the keys, features a mask of vague amusement as he gives a brief nod. Right, a power play, then. He wants to make it clear that you’re working for him—one step out of line and you’re done. At least, that seems to be the rough message he’s sending.

“Say, did Helion mention anything about that?” You ask, feeling him out a little. “About what?” He asks, absently. Definitely a line in the sand. Helion must have mentioned your attitude. Fine, then. You can play pretty-personal-assistant. You can be a good little corporate slave. That’s your talent, after all: switching your personas to keep people at your feet.

“About my main job. In entertainment?” You ask, the smile turning demure, while keeping your tone polite. “I know his own line of work, yes. And no.” He looks up from his laptop, eyes turning cold and stern, “you are not to indulge in any sort of work that does not relate directly to tasks you have been given by my Director.”

Your smile widens a little, “understood, Mr. Rhysand Sir.”

————

Helion hasn’t prepared you enough.

Why hadn’t he mentioned the man you’d be working for has looks to put your male counterparts to shame? With a face like that, you’re mildly surprised your underwear stays on and doesn’t drop to your ankles. That a puddle of wetness doesn’t seep into the chair you’re currently seated on.

You stand to greet him, holding out your hand, hoping he’ll be a little gentler than Rhys was. But as soon as his eyes settle on you—red lips, pretty pearl earrings, sweet little pencil skirt—nothing. Not even a blink, or a double-take. Not even a roll of his throat. And it seems his eyes have already flicked back to the CEO by the time you’ve realised he is blatantly refusing to shake your hand. Your teeth grind as you bring your arm back to yourself. For a brief moment you wonder if it’s distain for your occupation—but Rhys had made it very clear he’s the only one who knows about your situation, so it can’t be that.

Of course you get stuck with the pissy, entitled Director who probably thinks women still belong solely in the kitchen and are only good for popping out babies one after another. You feel bad for his wife—if he has one. You should have given some thought regarding to the type of men you’ll be dealing within this discipline. Probably grew up with topiary surrounding his father’s estate, with an obscenely long gated driveway to flaunt it. His own house probably came with underfloor heating and bedrooms that are purely decorative. Probably says scone instead of scon.

“This is my Director, Azriel. Azriel, this young lady will be helping relieve your obscene workload,” Rhys introduces, a plain smile on his handsome face that somehow isn’t as interesting now that this classically-carved, marvellously-muscled, entitled ass has entered your world. “This is her?” He asks, keeping his attention off you. Not showing so much as an ounce of respect. He’s getting on your nerves and you’ve known him less than a minute.

Rhys nods his head once, a swift, concise movement, “correct. You will show her around the firm, demonstrate how to use the necessary equipment, and make sure she is working to the overall exceptional degree that is expected within my company.” Internally, you’re trying to keep yourself together—remarkably tricky. Working to not just a satisfying, but an exceptional degree? With this stick in the mud? All too suddenly, Helion’s warnings are making sense.

Azriel barely nods, “understood.”

He turns for the door, a silent dismissal passing between them, not once looking at you as he makes for the exit. It takes less than a second for you to realise he’s expecting you to follow behind him, like an obedient dog, but you manage to make a graceful exit, muttering a relatively polite, thank-you for your time to Rhys before you’re striding to match Azriel’s brisk pace. You’re not sure he’s even doing it intentionally, with those long legs of his—finely muscled, just like the rest of him. Dickhead.

————

The first place he takes you to is his own office, stopping by to drop off his satchel and turn his laptop on, preparing for the long day ahead. Then he’s escorting you out, striding down the hallway, directing you to a new location. It’s all rather terrifying—the speed and precision with which he conducts himself. Brutal efficiency lacing every movement.

You pick up your own pace to match his, having to kick up to a slightly faster walk than usual to keep up with him. He shows you to your temporary office—across the hall from his own—along with how to use the photocopying feature on the chunky block of machinery at the side of the lounge, as well as how to scan documents in. He shows you once how to do everything, then lets you try your hand at it. Unsurprisingly, you stumble the first two times, either forgetting to select an A4 sized piece of paper, or forgetting to make sure the documents are scanned in with colour.

Despite his previously sour attitude, he’s patient with your learning, not snapping at you when you get something wrong. Not encouraging you, either. You can’t tell where you stand, and as a socialite, it unnerves you—you can’t get a read on him. But you can’t let him intimidate you. He seems like the type to go for blood if he detects it.

“We’ll move on to filing,” he says, once you successfully scan, and photocopy a Grant of Probate, and driving licence. “Any questions?” You get the vague impression it’s not a sincere offer, but maybe you’re making unjust inferences based on the assumptions of his character. Maybe that’s also why you ask the first thing that pops into your mind. “Do you think you could slow your pace a little?” You give him a shy smile, aiming for humour as an ice-breaker, “I’m surprised my heels haven’t fallen off with how fast you’re going.”

His features don’t shift. Not even a twitch of the lips, like with Rhys. He only nods curtly, then sets off at a slightly less demanding pace than before, heading to his office. On the way, you pass by a young man who seems to be a similar age to you—perhaps a little younger— with light brown skin, eyes the colour of matcha tea, and lashes you would die for. He gives you a polite, albeit shy, smile as he passes, which you return.

“Who was that?” You ask nosily once the young man has passed.

“That was Gabrielle. He’s doing an apprenticeship under Kieth. You might run into the two of them over your time here; Gabrielle will have similar tasks as you.” Azriel explains in his monotonous voice—strangely pleasant. You wonder what it would sound like first thing in the morning. You smile mischievously to yourself as you imagine getting him into your bed. All the ways you could blow his mind. You have a hard time imagining he’s particularly fun in the sheets, with his stick-in-the-mud attitude and stick-in-the-mud character.

“And what about Kieth? Is he also a Director? Like you, Azriel?” His eyes flick briefly to you—light brown—before cutting ahead. “Correct.”

You resist the urge to lick your lips. You already know you’re going to fuck him—it’s just a matter of figuring out what kind of woman he wants. You’re going to break him down, until he’s begging for more. No matter Rhys probably won’t want you sleeping with one of his directors behind his back, but he’s not going to find out.

Azriel won’t even know what hit him until his knees are buckling.

You eye the way his suit seems be perfectly tailored to every round muscle, every bone and fibre of his body. Wrapped to perfection, like a sweet, little Christmas present for you to rip into.

————

As soon as you’re home, you’re stepping into the shower, needing to release the tension from your shoulders.

He’d worked you within an inch of your life.

At first, you’d made his coffee too hot, then it was too sweet, and the third time he seemed to have given up, grunting after the first sip—though it was finished by lunch. Then, he’d had you scan a two-hundred page document to him, which had taken you an hour and five minutes of monotonous lowering the machines lid, allowing the blinding white light to slide beneath the glass, changing the page, lining up the corners, then repeating the whole process. It was a task in itself to not drift off and forget if you’d already scanned in a page. Not to mention the additional half an hour spent waiting for the damn file to send.

That hadn’t even been the worst of it. The entire afternoon had been spent filing: finding papers that needed to be strung into the same file, ordering them chronologically—which sometimes meant removing months worth of documents just to slide one stupid printed email to the back of a Correspondence File.

The upside of the afternoon? It had presented you with many opportunities to bend over a cabinet, leaning on a file draw while you sorted through the papers to find the date you were searching for. You’d switch it around sometimes, too, leaning so you were facing him, flashing him a peak down your shirt every now and then.

The downside of the afternoon? His eyes had never left his computer. It was like you didn’t even exist. What sort of man doesn’t take advantage of fate when a pretty lady is offering a plentiful view of her backside? What sort of man doesn’t take advantage of you when you offer him a chance? It’s insulting…but you suppose it’s only been one day. Maybe he’s shy—you’ll have to step up your game.

Maybe you can spill some coffee between his legs. Or wear one of your more sheer tops with a dark bra. Or un-pop a few buttons on your shirt when he works you too hard. Really, he has no right to be so focused on his work when you’re in the same room as him, in your pretty little heels, and pretty little cardi, and pretty little skirt.

Maybe he doesn’t want pretty and little, though. Maybe you should try to be a little more “executive”, like him.

You fall asleep pretty promptly that night, schemes for how to ruffle Azriel’s feathers playing through your devious, sex-addled brain.

You still have a whole month to get him addicted to you. Shouldn’t be too difficult.

————

When you get in the next morning—a whole half an hour before you’re required—you head straight to your office. Only to see Azriel already sat at his desk, deft fingers flying over the keys, looking as stern as yesterday. Why is he in at 7:30 in the morning? From the look of it, he’s been there for a while already.

His dark eyes flick over the lid of his sleek laptop, catching you watching. Without so much as a word of greeting, he returns his attention to his computer, “you aren’t due for another half an hour.” Even if it isn’t a direct invitation, you step into his office, moving to be a few steps from his large desk. “I was planning on secretly sneaking in a couple of practice runs for coffee this morning, but it seems you’ve caught me,” you reply, gently.

Nonsense. You’re supposed to be mirroring him today. People like others who operate in similar styles to them, so you’ll act like a calmer counterpart—more feminine. Softer at the edges. So you straighten a little, standing with elegant poise, raising your chin ever so slightly. “You don’t need thirty minutes to make a good cup of coffee,” he says, eyes remaining on the screen of his computer. “Come back in half an hour when the work day commences.”

“No filing you want me to do? Get me warmed up for the work day?” You ask casually, as if remarking on the weather. His brow dips almost imperceptibly, “come back at Eight.”

“Just eager to help with your workload, Azriel.” You nearly smack yourself as the habitual lilt honeys your tongue. Executive. Not flirtatious. You clear your throat, trying again. “Eight it is, then. I’ll be here on the dot.”

You close the door behind you, heading across the hallway to your office, settling down into your chair—that has wheels. If everything else is miserable, at least you can roll across the floor with ease. You tap your desk restlessly, before logging onto the computer. As soon as you lay eyes on the digital scans from yesterday in your emails, you spin to the side and pull out your phone. Time for an update, anyway.

Undoing enough buttons to easily reveal your tits, hiking up your skirt, you snap a pretty picture, uploading it with a few taps of your fingers. The light is catching on your shiny red lips, making them appear plump, and Luscious. The image loads quickly, followed by a short caption. Getting a little handsy at work. Think I should fuck my boss? xxx

Deciding to be productive, you set yourself straight, and make for your door. You’d passed a coffee house on the way in, and just because you can’t make the bitter liquid in a way to satisfy him, doesn’t mean somebody else can’t be called in. Surely a barista will be a suitable improvement.

————

When you return, you decant the coffee into a nondescript white mug, careful not to burn yourself while handling the hot liquid. Maybe you undo an extra button, too, so he’ll have a little treat when you lean down to place the mug on his desk.

It’s eight on the dot when you knock on his door before before entering. Your plans are fucked sideways when you spot another man stood in his office. Legs in the usual man-spread, a little wider than shoulder width apart, with his hands in his pockets. Someone who’s used to feeling at ease in most spaces, who’s confident in his ability to own and dominate any room he’s in. He reeks of entitlement.

However, you’re pleasantly surprised when he turns at the sound of the door opening, eyes running appreciatively up and down your body, resting for an inappropriate moment on your chest—the undone button. He’s blandly handsome, with a hard jaw and slightly wavy brown hair that’s pushed back from his face. A slight shadow of stubble is already darkening his chin, not enough to look raggedy—more rugged masculinity. It suits him.

“And who’s this little lady?” The man asks, interest sparking in his chocolatey brown eyes. You smile, extending the hand that’s not holding his coffee, “I’m his Personal Assistant—”

“Secretary.” Your attention flicks to Azriel, but he’s eyeing the man before you, sternly. “She’s filling the role of my secretary, until a permanent replacement is found.” You fight the urge to furrow your brow, instead returning your attention to the man before you, who’s still regarding you with male interest.

“There you go then,” you smile, red lips parting enough to lift into a small grin, “I’m his secretary.” His large hand grips yours roughly—demandingly—as he shakes it. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Secretary,” he replies, mouth lifting into a charming grin. “I’m another Director here.” His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper as he leans in, breath smelling faintly of mint, “the better one, that is.” He winks then stands straighter, and you release a soft laugh. “I don’t suppose you have a role open for a secretary, do you?” You tease back, noting the way his eyes flicker with approval.

“If one ever opens up, you’ll be the first one I contact. Personally,” the man drawls, eyes again dipping to your chest, and you can practically see the fantasies in his gaze. Maybe you’re wasting your time on Azriel.

But then the man turns away from you, “how come you’re treated to a Personal Assistant? Where’s my pretty lady to get me coffee in the morning?” You smile dutifully at the flattery, but Azriel looks mildly pissed off. “She’s my secretary, and she does a lot more than get me coffee in the morning,” he says sharply.

You take the chance to walk round to Azriel’s side of the desk, leaning over slightly as you place the coffee beside him. You intentionally angle your body away from the man, showing the discreet view to Azriel, but his eyes aren’t on you. You don’t really have the time to be frustrated with his lack of attention. “I’m sure she does.”

Woah. That has to be some sort of HR violation.

“Kieth.” Azriel barks, breaking you out of your stare. Thunderclouds have gathered in his eyes, and you can’t help the way your spine straightens. “She’s on work experience. That is not appropriate.” The man—Keith—isn’t deterred, instead flashing you a panty-dropping grin, “not even making him pay?”

You take a step back from Azriel, leaving an appropriate distance between your bodies as you turn to face Kieth. A feline smile slices your lips, eyes flicking to Azriel, making a show of looking him up and down, then back to Kieth. “With a pretty face like that? Never.”

You know Kieth gets the message—how you’ve stood yourself at his side, the opposing end of the desk that serves as a metaphorical wall. You’re aligning yourself with Azriel, and you can practically see Kieth marking the invisible leash you’ve silently suggested is connecting you to him.

If Kieth wants you, he’s going to have to go through Azriel.

———

Despite the seemingly clear alliance formed earlier that day, all traces of camaraderie had dissipated the moment Kieth removed himself from Azriel’s office. It seemed apparent that it was something about the opposing Director that got his panties in a twist, and you needed to investigate.

That being said, even after the team-up, nothing changed between the two of you. He was just as quiet as usual—almost sullen—not even sparing you a glance. You can’t figure out what’s not clicking for him. He has a woman all to himself for most hours of the working day, yet that’s all he seems to be doing: working.

What’s wrong with him?

The only time he’d paid you an ounce of attention was this morning, and since then—nothing.

You flop into bed, tired and frustrated. It’s proving more difficult than anticipated. It’s not like you haven’t had men who’ve taken a while to warm up to you before, but this is unreasonable. He seems completely uninterested. Utterly unbelievable.

The only logical conclusion you can come to is that it must be intentional. Any normal person would make eye contact with someone entering their space, or at least look up. And you’ve been in his office when other people have come in—Gabrielle popped in to ask after a particular file that Kieth had been after—and he’d functioned reasonably then.

It’s iron will that’s walling him off from you. And how are you supposed to break through a self-imposed barrier?

Easy.

You ware him down until the walls turn to dust, then you sweep in, and dominate. Crush down and obliterate.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger

#azriel #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #shadowsinger #modern!acotar #modern!azriel #modern!azriel x reader #corporate!azriel #His Personal Assistant #His PA

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hrefna-the-raven · 4 months

Text

Hot as Hades

Misc. masterlist - masterlist

Chapters 1 - 2 - 3

Warnings: none

Words: 1620

Summary: getting ready for the next date (this chapter will be a bit boring, sorry in advance)

Chapter 4 - Invitation

"Whaaaaaaat-is-it-now?!", he bellowed, causing them to immediately fall into silence.

Pain and Panic exchanged glances, uttering unintelligible words to each other before one of them eventually took a step forward.

"Your most lugubriousness, we're sorry to disturb you but uhm you have a visitor."

"Guys this is the Underworld", Hades scoffed while conjuring himself a drink, "we constantly have visitors down here, like", his hand waved towards the never-ending stream of souls spiraling downwards past the window, "permanent visitors."

He sipped on his drink as he sunk back on his throne, already dismissing his minions' announcement under unimportant when suddenly the heavy stone doors of the throne room swung open, crashing into the walls on both sides.

"Brother", Zeus swaggered into the room as if he owned it, grabbing Hades by the shoulder and pulling him into a tight hug.

The Lord of the Dead growled, squirming to free himself but failing.

"What brings you to my room of doom, Zeusy?", Hades grumbled, finally able to free himself out of Zeus' iron grip.

"Aw Hades, can't I just check on my favourite gloom from the tomb brother?"

"You rarely, no wait, in fact, never do so. And forgive me if this sounds a bit impolite, but I'm highly suspicious. Sooooo what in the undead are you doing down here?!"

Hades' voice cracked, his attempt to conceal his anger failing, his venom slowly seeping through his words. The night he spent with you was absolutely enchanting, from the delightful conversations to the shared laughter at each other's jokes. He could feel the intense desire you had for him, and he wouldn't forgive himself if he allowed anyone, especially his meddling brother Bolt Boy over there, to ruin it now. His gaze shifted towards his brother, who suddenly appeared overly interested in the table that still stood in the room, a physical reminder of the sweet memories he had created together with you merely hours ago. As if on cue, Zeus turned around, revealing a delicate sapphire belt held triumphantly in his hand. A self-satisfied grin spread across his face, growing more pronounced with each passing moment.

"Did you have a visitor?", Zeus asked, wiggling his eyebrows in a mischievous manner.

Hades' eyes widened in shock as he saw your belt dangling from Zeus' hand. He jumped up and snatched it away.

"None of your business", Hades snarled.

The last thing he needed was Mister High and Mighty snooping around his affairs. He knew Zeus too well, having experienced his meddling firsthand. The first time, it resulted in the rather involuntary responsibility of overseeing the underworld forever, the last time, it ended his relationship and, because it wasn't bad enough,Hades had to make constant, very conscious effort to forget all the instances where he got the blame for his brothers fuck ups. Therefore, he had no intention of divulging any information about you. At least in his scheming mind, he deemed you his which granted you the status of underworld business, and so solely his, business.

"Anyway, tomorrow, Olympus. Make sure to come, brother. It will be a grant gathering of everyone, oh and I've heard intriguing things about the lady you're with, I'm curious."

"Oh why don't you ask Aphrodite? I'm sure if things are being heard, she might want to add some details", Hades muttered.

"I don't know what you're talking about. It's all Greek to me", Zeus winked and vanished, leaving a frustrated Hades behind.

Wasn't it already enough that his brother had imprisoned him in the thankless task of ruling the underworld for eternity? Why did he have to endure Zeus invading the very space of his confinement as well? And for what? To invite him to...something, probably a party. And you were supposed to accompany him, an unspoken invitation, and by extension meet the other gods. Hades closed his eyes, his fingertips pressed into his temples, slowly massaging the growing headache away. He called out for his minions, his muscles tensing at the irritating shuffles of their small footsteps on the stone floor as they approached, giving him a nervous salute. With a snip of his fingers, dark smoke materialised into a wrapped package he had gotten earlier from the Fates, hovering in front of Pain.

"Bring this to her, tell her I'll pick her up at sunset and nothing more! Capiche?"

"Yes boss!", Panic replied a little too eagerly, snatched the package, and scurried away with Pain.

As soon as you stepped into your house the following day after a tiring day at work, you sensed that something was amiss. It felt like the atmosphere had shifted, and there was an unfamiliar disturbance lingering in the air. As you passed through the kitchen, you instinctively grabbed a knife and cautiously made your way towards your bedroom. Carefully you pushed open the door, ready to defend yourself, but your steps came to an abrupt halt as you spotted two young boys energetically jumping on your bed.

"What in the-?"

"She's here, she's here!", both interrupted you and crawled off the bed, holding up a package.

"The boss will pick you up at sunset, wear this, nothing more!", proudly announced the boy with brown hair.

"That's not what he meant by saying that, you idiot!", the blonde one intervened, slapping the other one on the back of his head.

"Oh and how would you know what the boss meant? I was there when he gave the instructions!"

"Me too! Have you forgotten already?"

"You must be Pain and Panic", you sighed amused, giggling, finally putting the knife away and taking the package.

"At your service", both smiled, saluting you.

"So this is from Hades?", you asked, earning an eager nod from the boys.

"Please tell him we delivered and only did as asked", Pain requested, transforming back into his original form.

"We mean like really really put in a good word for us, we don't wanna be maimed", Panic added.

And with that, they both disappeared. Intrigued, you opened the parckage and ran your fingers along the smooth black material of a gown. You let out a gasp as you slipped it on, realising that not only did it reveal a generous amount of cleavage, but the fabric itself was see-through, but it also was as if magic concealed certain parts of your body, so never too much was revealed. As you gazed at your own reflection in the mirror, a delightful warmth began to spread between your thighs. Your mind danced with thoughts of the upcoming evening and Hades' intentions, especially considering the revealing and seductive nature of your robe. You weren't left with much time to wonder when you felt the air shift and the Lord of the Underworld emerged from a cloud of dark smoke beside you.

"Hi babe, I'm a bit early so I figured I'd pick you up here since we've gotten to know each other a bit better yesterday, you know it's more personal and all", Hades strolled around you, his eyes scanning the room, "I must say I dig your style, simple and yet those small skulls and bones give this place a personal touch, thumbs up-", his gaze finally landed on you, "wow wow wow, babe, I uhm, it suddenly got super hot in here and it's definitely not me for once!"

You chuckled at the god standing in front of you, his eyes roaming over your form, dilated pupils and open mouth, unable to hide his burning desire and you could have sworn that his flames burned even hotter than usual.

"You sent the robe."

Your voice broke Hades out of his train of thoughts and brought him back into the present moment with you.

"The Fates picked it", he casually remarked, attempting to regain his usual cool demeanour, "and they weren't wrong when they promised me I wouldn't regret it. But something's missing, hm hm hm", Hades pondered, tapping his finger against his lips, his brows furrowing, "ah yes I know! Let me help with the final touch."

Your hair started moving on its own, swirling and twisting until it formed a chignon at the back of your head adorned with a small bird skull. The tips of the few long strains hanging down on the side of your face were tinted in an almost glowing shade of the same blue as Hades' flames. A silent wow left your lips as you caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. The combination of the elegant hairstyle and the flowing robe draped around you gave you a shimmer of divinity and a smile danced across your lips as you turned around hugging Hades.

"It looks perfect, thank you", you whispered, your words barely audible as they sank into the soft fabric of his toga.

"So well, are you ready to start the night?", he asked anxiously, his hand nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

You nodded, though a hint of suspicion flickered in your gaze as you observed him.

"Then get ready to meet the family!", he spoke quickly, his arm encircling you tightly as he pulled you closer.

"Wait what?! Does that mean we're going to O-", you cut yourself off with a scream as your surroundings seemed to dissolve.

You closed your eyes, nausea pooling in your stomach while every muscles in your body tensed at the feeling of weighing tons and being weightless at the same time. Just as suddenly as it began, it abruptly ended again and when your feet felt steady ground underneath, you cautiously opened your eyes and gasped in surprise.

"Olympus", you murmured, blinking several times, half-expecting to find yourself back in your own home, awakening from a dream.

Chapter 5

#disney #disney hercules #hades #disney hades #pain and panic #zeus #disney zeus #hades x reader #hades x you #hot as hades #reader insert #disney villain #disney x reader

58 notes · View notes

melodygatesauthor · 1 year

Note

Do you have any headcannons for how the moon boys would react to the reader being upset and jealous maybe because someone flirted with them?

Nonnie, of course I do, oof, I'm just imagining someone trying to flirt with MY BOYS. Lord help them lol.

NSFW below the cut

Word Count: 477

Steven

If you see someone flirting with Steven, you cut him a huge break. He's not the most perceptive to flirtatious advances.

That doesn't stop you from feeling a little upset.

"Love, what's wrong? You look upset?" He says after the person leaves.

"Steven, they were flirting with you." You point out to him.

"No they weren't"

You let it go but you spend the rest of the day a little aggravated. Wondering if you hadn’t been there what would’ve happened.

Steven that night is kissing you and noticing the change in your usually enthusiastic movements.

“Alright, I’ve had enough.” He says, using his strength to flip you over onto your stomach. Leaning over with his cock at your entrance and chest against your spine he whispers, “gonna show you that you’re the only one f'me, love.”

Marc

Marc’s not as oblivious to the flirting as Steven, but he does try to play it off like it's nothing when he sees how upset you are.

"Baby, you don't need to worry, I'm not interested in anyone else." He's trying to be reassuring, but you're still upset that Marc chuckled and something they said.

You spend the day a little put off, but trying to keep your attitude up for Marc's benefit.

Marc isn't used to being the more positive one, so this is new territory for him, and he isn't sure what to do.

"Baby, what can I do to make it better?" He asks, hoping there's a magic cure-all to help.

You aren't sure, but when he's knelt down in front of the mirror with you sitting on his lap, cock sheathed deep in your wet cunt, you're having a hard time staying mad.

"Look at yourself baby, look how pretty you are, you think I care about anything else when I've got you? Just look at you."

Jake

You don't have to worry with Jake, and yet you do. He's a natural flirt, and when you see him wink at another person you nearly choke.

Jake doesn't beat around the bush, so when he sees you upset, he's already demanding to know why.

"Tell me, hermosa, why are you pouting?"

When you continue to pout, Jake smirks, thinking it's amusing. You promptly tell him how unamused you are.

"We will see how long that attitude lasts when I get you home, bebita."

Your attitude doesn't last long.

Jake has you tied up to the bedframe while he edges you.

"Jake please, I need to come, please." You're begging, tears streaming down your face.

"Tell me what has you all worked up then, it's not hard."

He's running his gloved finger up and down your slit, teasing you.

"You winked at that other person." You finally admit.

He lets out a chuckle, "my jealous little bebita. Don't worry, no one can handle me like you can."

Moon Knight Masterlist

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rainbowchaox · 6 months

Text

Purgatory Pissa Masterpost Part 2:

First off half of this isn’t actually purgatory. Primarily because Missa wasn’t present for most of it and I didn’t want to write an essay based on like two moments. Therefore this is both purgatory and recent moments. And sorry it took long to write this.

First off! Philza first reaction to seeing Missa his husband in the midst of chaos. In the art museum was to zoom into where he is and actually whimper. Dude missed his husband so much. Especially considering the last time they spoke was them saying I love yous and last time they saw each other was Philza waving him goodbye while his back was turned.

Immediately afterwards he told the crows he won’t kill Missa. His whole arc during purgatory was he didn’t want to hurt anyone but for him to bluntly say he won’t hurt Missa. That actually means he means it. As philza did say he didn’t want to hurt his friends but he was sorta forced back into the aggression of his past. He was mentally screwed like everyone in that place.

And it’s important to me that when ElQuackity was being all evil monologue. Chayanne immediately said “His DADS are always better than you”. Primarily because some people think Chayanne doesn’t love Missa. He does. Hell true pissa fans know that he is papa boy. Dude adores his papa missa.

When the islanders canonically got back. Tubbo immediately was like Missa and Pac would come back washed up on the shore. Tubbo really didn’t want his friends romantic interests to canonically die to a nuke. Tubbo is suffering being a shipper (Joking).

He also recently went back to the main art museum. It still had the halloween art from weeks ago. Of course he zoomed into pissa art again and got super close. It gives me an image of legit philza pressing his face against the art.

BBH during that stream came to the wall to talk to philza and called missa a wet cat again. Philza was forcing himself not to laugh. He was struggling. Dude didn’t want to laugh at Missa so badly.

Today during philzas stream Pierre said he could use his chateau for like a wedding shot and Philza said he would kept that in mind. So pissa wedding not impossible to happen BUT it could easily Philza and Pierre winking at each other about other couples. But definitely something we can use for fic or art ideas.

#qsmp #pissa #qsmp pissa #pissa newspaper

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gennyanydots · 1 year

Text

'Cause you're the only one who's on my mind

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x f!reader

Written for @roosterforme ‘s Love is in the air tgm playlist challenge.

My song was “Untouched” by The Veronicas

Masterlist

Life isn’t fair. It really isn’t. The universe found the absolute perfect man for you, better than you could have ever dreamed. He’s hotter than hell especially when he takes his shirt off. One of the nicest people you’ve ever met. Willing to do just about anything for anyone. Attentive. Caring. Funny. Exactly everything you would want in a boyfriend. But there’s always a catch, isn’t there?

You met him in a place you swore you’d never be able to meet a guy worth dating at. A bar. Your best friend had met some hot guy that afternoon when she was out and he told her that they should meet up at some bar later. She told him she couldn’t since it was your monthly girls night out but he told her to bring all her friends and he would bring his. So your girls night out headed out to this random looking dive bar and changed the course of your life for the next few months.

The bar seemed to be crawling with men. Attractive men. Some women here and there but definitely not an even mix. Your friends had each already found a guy to flirt with, including the one your best friend met that afternoon, in the first ten minutes and left you at the bar alone. You were fine with that. You were still looking around and getting your bearings in the new bar. It definitely didn’t lack in things to look at. The walls were filled with different decorations. The mugs on the ceiling was an interesting design choice but you could get behind it.

While looking around, you just happened to glance towards the door and watched as the most beautiful man you had ever seen walk in the bar with a 70’s pornstache while wearing the most ridiculous Hawaiian shirt you had ever seen. Maybe you need to get your head checked. You must being going crazy. A pornstache and a Hawaiian shirt really seemed to be doing it for you and you’re really not sure why. Anyone else and you would have looked away by now but you continued to watch him as he looked around the bar, his eyes finally landing on you and he grinned noticing you looking straight at him. You quickly averted your gaze and felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. Of course, he saddled up to the bar next to you taking the open bar stool to your left.

“Hey, do you have a bandaid?” He asked as he sat down with a grin on his handsome face.

“Uh yeah, I think so,” you said as you opened your bag and went to hand him one but he didn’t take it. He just sat with a grin on his face.

“I need one because I just scraped my knee falling for you.”

You raised an eyebrow and threw the bandaid back into your bag and zipped it closed, “That was terrible.”

“It can only get better from here then,” he said, still with that grin plastered on his face. “I’m Bradley, but you can call me yours if you want.” Then he winked at you.

You tried to resist him and his stupid pickup lines, of which he seemed to have an endless supply of, you really did. It was too hard. He was charming, even while wearing that ridiculous shirt of his. He was too funny to ignore. Too handsome. Too everything. You couldn’t help but give in to his advances. You ended up agreeing to one date with him. Just one. Then he convinced you to go on another. Then another. And another. Until you were spending as much time as possible with each other. It was the most fun you’d ever had with any one person. You found out just how many Hawaiian shirts one man could own. But then he had to leave. He had orders.

You both fell hard and fast for each other but then he was gone. Deployed. Somewhere. He couldn’t tell you and you didn’t ask. You had only known each other for a month. A MONTH! And yet as he kissed you goodbye and told you he’d see you when he came home, you watched him walk out your door, with tears streaming down your face, and you knew he was leaving with your entire heart in the palm of his hands.

Your friends thought you were crazy waiting around for someone you barely knew. That the month you spent together wasn’t long enough to base any sort of relationship off of. That you didn’t know him well enough to judge whether you wanted to be with him or not, especially in this tough of a relationship. Plus, it’s not like he made you any promises when he left so it was wrong for him to expect you to wait around.

But that was the thing. He didn’t ask you to wait. He didn’t say anything about that at all when he left. It was your choice to wait for him. You wanted to wait. You wanted to give this a chance. To you it made sense to wait. You knew there wasn’t anyone who was going to be able to compare to Bradley so why even try? You didn’t care what they say or what they think. Bradley was the only one who’s on your mind.

It’s not like you didn’t still go out with your friends. You did. You just turned down every person who came up to you, unless they were offering to buy you a drink because free drinks are free drinks after all.

Bradley’s been gone for close to 6 months now. The longest 6 months of your life. You’ve been able to talk to him twice while he’s been gone and both times not for very long. Just long enough to update each other on the goings on in your lives and to tell him how much you miss him. But anything is better than nothing.

You were kind of procrastinating at work today. You were ahead in some things and you didn’t really feel like pushing yourself today. It was rainy which made it worse. All you wanted to do was climb back in bed. Every once in a while you stared out the window watching the rain fall. It was something to do. You were really just clicking around on your computer to make it look like you were vaguely working. Your motivation was shot for the day but thankfully work was so close to being done.

It was a surprise to see Bradley’s name pop up on your phone and you hurried to answer it, excited to be able to talk to him.

“Bradley!”

“Hey honey! It’s so good to hear your voice.”

You smile, “It’s so good to hear yours too! How are things?”

“They’re good. What about you?”

“Just the normal stuff. Kinda a blah day at work today. It’s raining too so no fun.”

“Well, I hope I can make it better.”

“Getting to talk to you definitely makes it better.”

“I think I can do better than that.”

“Yeah? How are you going to do that?” You ask.

“Look outside.”

You furrow your brow then turn to the window and look, seeing a familiar blue Bronco sitting parallel to the sidewalk outside your office window.

“Wha…. What?” You stutter out.

“C’mon, time to go honey,” he says as he gestures for you to come out.

“K,” you quickly hang up and gather your things before telling to your boss that you had to go then you rush outside to see Bradley standing in the rain holding the car door open for you.

“Let’s go! Before you melt in the rain!” He calls to you with a laugh and you run towards him and jump into his arms. He catches you and holds you flush against him as your legs wrap around his waist and your lips meet his.

After a minute or so you pull away, “That was probably the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Baby, you have set the bar so low for me. I can’t wait to blow your mind with how romantic I can be,” he says with a grin then with one hand behind your head pulls you down for another kiss.

#bradley bradshaw x reader #Bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #rooster x f!reader #‘cause you’re the only one who’s on my mind

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the12thnightproject · 2 months

Text

Chapter 45: Winter Vacation Katsu shows Mitsuhide around Kyoto; then back in the 16th century he has another surprise for her.

Mitsuhide x OC; Hideyoshi x MC (Mai)

All Chapters Archived on Ao3

Logline - With Mai, Hideyoshi, and Aki missing, Mitsuhide and Katsuko reluctantly team up. Disguised as a merchant and his concubine, can they outsmart the man known as the God of Deceit?

“Now, the further you turn this, the warmer the water is.” I glanced over my shoulder to see if Mitsuhide was tracking the instructions, just in time to notice that he was looking at me, and not the plumbing.

Or perhaps I should say he was looking at my plumbing area, which very likely was visible below my bath towel. I raised both eyebrows at him and he winked. “You are a rather undeniable temptation.”

While it would have been nice to stay cocooned on the couch all day, eventually practicalities intruded. I introduced Mitsuhide to modern kitchen appliances, laughed as he spent five minutes turning off and on the lights in syncopated rhythm, fed him breakfast (well, it was lunch at that point), and now we were having a crash course in water management 101.

While running water was a concept he could get behind, he seemed not at all interested in temperature control, or the intricacies of how it worked from the source. “I presume there are people whose jobs there are to know specifically how it fits together, but at the moment, I’m only concerned with using it in its designated function.” He stuck his hand under the stream of water.

I twisted the level to make it warmer, and when he didn’t comment, I left it at that temperature. “On that note, I guess you’re an easier visitor than Shingen. He’s driving Sasuke crazy by taking everything apart to see how it works.”

“You spend a lot of time with them?” That unfamiliar tone was back in his voice. I don’t believe that he was actually jealous – just that there was enough history between the Oda and the Takeda-Uesugi alliance to mean that I had been hanging out with the enemy.

Lowering the conversational temperature back to casual, I said, “They’re the only people I know here since I prefer not to become close friends with anyone who will worry when I blip back into the past. So maybe let’s consider this time a neutral zone, and you can go back to trying to kill him when we return to the Sengoku era.”

What happens in modern Japan, stays in modern Japan.

He didn’t reply, but simply surveyed the pattern of water as it streamed down the walls of the postage stamp size stall. “So um, anyway, this is wasting water, so I’ll leave you to it…” I trailed off as he swiftly tossed away his clothes and stepped in.

He was so beautiful with the water flowed down his body, outlining every contour of his muscles. I know I had just spent the night and morning with that body, with this man, but I would never take that beauty for granted.

He raised that one eyebrow, smirked, and crooked his finger at me. “You did say something about needing to conserve water.

I had said that, yes. “There’s no room- eek!”

He reached out and pulled me in, bath towel and all. “My love, there is always room for you, no matter where I am.” He undid the now soaking towel and tossed it into the sink. Now there was little between us but water, and even that evaporated to steam when he wrapped his arms around me.

“Kitsune, I am not opposed to shower sex in concept, but we need a bigger…” My back would probably slide down the side and I’d hit my head and drown…

He rotated me away from him and I grabbed the towel bar for stability. “Hold on to that. I imagine that is what it was placed there for.”

Yeah, I’m not going to speculate on what Sasuke’s parents do in the shower, thanks for that mental picture.

He reached around to cup my breasts, and then I felt his teeth nipping at the side of my neck. “Oh God, we’re going to die.”

We did not die during shower sex… not any of the times we tried it.

Nor did Shingen and Mitsuhide attempt to kill each other when the four of us got together. Oh, the two of them would never become good friends – they were too much alike in the wrong ways, not to mention too different in every other way – but they managed mutual politeness during a meal that Sasuke and I cooked. That got upgraded to professional respect when they discussed the Yoshiaki and Motonari threats, which then devolved again to a cutthroat game of Catan that had both Sasuke and I eliminated within the first hour.

My moderately awesome ninja buddy and I watched the game from the sidelines for a little while before we both decided it would be safer to retreat to watching Picard (neither Shingen nor Mitsuhide had gotten into sci-fi, as travelling over 450 years into their future was sci-fi enough for both of them).

During the weeks as we counted down the time before the Togakushi wormhole manifestation, we all made the most of our time. Aside from breaking in the shower (and the breakfast bar, which Mitsuhide and I discovered was set at a very convenient height) we did actually emerge from the house every day to explore modern Kyoto. Mitsuhide decided that since this was more or less an enforced vacation, he would spend his time pursuing the interests that generally got pushed to the side amidst all the war councils, interrogations, and spying: live theater and music.

While I never could convince him to give K-pop - or any rock music for that matter – a chance, he did discover an appreciation for jazz. An unfortunate appreciation, since I disliked that sort of music. At least we were able to have a lively and ongoing debate over the merits of both, which usually devolved into mutual distraction.

Even though we always had a lovely time wandering through Kyoto in winter, my favorite part of the days were our evenings. I could be as cutthroat about Shogi and he and Shingen had been over Catan, and it was as much fun trying to outthink him and it was to distract him. I never won… though I came close twice.

Nor had I neglected my personal mission to organize the Mikumos’ library (with their permission). When they returned they would find everything neatly filed and cross referenced both in a database, and also in a hard copy notebook. Unfortunately, even after spending a couple of hours a day digging through their archives, I hadn’t discovered much about my father. True, Sasuke’s mother had kept a journal during that time which pinpointed when Aki and Francisco entered their lives, as well as what the two were studying, but otherwise the journal was pretty dry.

“Discover anything useful?” Mitsuhide wandered into the room with two cups of tea. I gratefully took it. Though he still couldn’t cook, he made a damn good cup of tea. I took a sip… and promptly burned my tongue. Good tea, but very hot tea. I fanned my mouth. He tsked. “The hazards of impatience, Brat… shall I kiss it to make it better?”

“Cute.” Not that I would ever turn down a kiss, even though it did threaten to throw me off track for the rest of the afternoon. Once we broke apart, I pulled out Professor Mikumo’s journal and read her description of Francisco. “We’re hosting a Portuguese exchange student who is very interested in Sengoku trade routes and any attempts by the explorers to influence politics. Or rather that was what the letter from his academic advisor stated. Unfortunately, this young man’s grasp on our language is tenuous at best, and as no one here speaks Portuguese, all of our work becomes delayed as we try to discuss everything in sign language.”

Mitsuhide politely nodded. “Yes, it is his lack of understanding that led to the most fascinating purchase of my life.” He tapped his lips, and followed that up by kissing me again. Mm. We were in danger of taking the afternoon off (again… it was last week’s work derailment that had led us to discover that the breakfast bar was the right height for eating… something that’s not actually food). No… this is important. I hadn’t even told him yet about that priest. “Francisco.”

“Dear me, have you forgotten my identity so quickly?” I shall have to give you a refresher on that topic.” He slid next to me and pulled me onto his lap.

I stopped his hands before they could make their way under my shirt. “I think he… or the priest who tried to buy me… might have been the one who shot Aki in 1578.”

To his credit, Mitsuhide immediately flipped into business mode. “On what evidence?”

Er. Well. “For Francisco, gut feeling, mostly. He had gun in his desk when I took the letter… and it was not there the next time I looked.” Before Mitsuhide could devil’s advocate me out of that, I added, “He’s been in Japan, both modern and Sengoku for over ten years, and yet he still hasn’t learned the language?”

“He could indeed be that incompetent.” By now, I knew that Mitsuhide wasn’t necessarily disagreeing with me – he was merely pointing out where I needed stronger proof.

“Ok, yes, sure. But it seems to me that whatever missions there were to send people like Aki back in time – they would have wanted the best.” But why had Aki never questioned Francisco’s language deficiencies? It seemed a critical error on his part, an error from someone who usually didn’t make errors. Unless Aki was well aware that Francisco was faking it, and pretending not to know in order to watch him? But if that were the case why give Francisco the letter for me? Ugh, I was confusing myself. Still, I needed to at least get everything out on the table before Mitsuhide started poking holes in my already shaky theory. “Suppose everything Francisco did was not incompetence, but a charade. He never intended to rescue me at the auction. But if his plan failed, he could fall back on his idiot disguise.”

If I reframed my view of everything Francisco had done, it could all have a sinister interpretation.

And here came Mr. Logic. “Was not the slave auction your idea to begin with?”

“It was. Francisco just took advantage of the opportunity I gave him.” But Mitsuhide was correct. I had brought the idea to Francisco and basically blackmailed him into it.

“Hm, and we won’t be doing anything like that again now will we?” The ‘royal we’ had returned. His arms tightened around me. “Now, you said something about the priest? I did interrogate him rather thoroughly, and he had no connection to the disappearances.”

Had I been mistaken in identifying the priest as the man who watched my gymnastics competition? I pulled the computer closer and tabbed into youtube. “Look at this.” Mitsuhide was quiet, intent as the video played. When the camera angle switched to show the priest, I paused and pinch zoomed it onto his face. “Same man?”

He leaned closer. “It is possible. The hat makes it difficult to be one hundred percent certain.” He frowned, and it seemed there was some anger being directed inward. “Though perhaps that is me not wanting to believe that my interrogation technique to be infallible. I should have-.”

My turn to shush him with my finger. “Well, you questioned him as if he was what he appeared to be, a rather vicious priest. If that in itself was a disguise… well you didn’t know about the existence of time travel, so he might have training that the average psychopath does not.” I leaned back and rested my head on his shoulder. I really hoped he wasn’t going to beat himself up over this. “You can’t know everything.”

“It is, in fact my job to know everything.” His hands massaged low circles around my back. “However, I have promised you… as well as Hideyoshi and Mai… that I will no longer take on the world alone. Nor is there much I can do about these two men right now. Not when we are here, and they are somewhere in the past.” He stood up, and took me by the hand. “Come on, Brat, you’ve worked all afternoon.”

I had at that, so I let him lead me into the den, where another of those snoozy jazz stations was playing something in the key of dull syncopation. I dropped his hand and made a beeline for the remote. No, I wasn’t planning to subject him to K-pop, but a nice movie night would be good. He beat me to it and held it over my head. “Oh that’s mature.”

Single eyebrow raise. “One person’s immature is another person’s success.” He tossed the thing onto a shelf that was above both of our heads. “Come here. This music, as opposed that shrill wailing you inexplicably like, is designed for dancing.” He pulled me into a dance hold. “Have I mentioned that I am quite fond of your era’s style of dance.”

Before I could again protest his depiction of K-pop as ‘shrill wailing,’ he had my head resting on his shoulder, as he pressed his hand on my back. His lean grace might have been made for this, as he expertly maneuvered me in a small circle around the center of the room.

Eventually, that slowed to a single swaying embrace as we clung to each other. The sun had long set, the only light came from the glow of the TV and the neighbor’s Christmas lights shining through the window.

I knew the steps of this dance we were doing, knew that soon, Mitsuhide’s lips would kiss my cheek, and then my mouth, until the dance became something else entirely.

But for the moment, I was perfectly happy melting against his body, in the more innocent hold.

We had time.

Three weeks later, and four hundred and fifty(ish) years earlier…

As soon as we “landed” back in the Sengoku and split off from Sasuke and Shingen, we made our way to Azuchi. I had expected that Mitsuhide would settle in and immediately pick up war planning with Nobunaga and Hideyoshi. And while he had indeed spent the day and half the night conferring with them, we were off to Sakai the next morning.

Our machiya in Sakai was unchanged, it was Mituhide and I who were different. We were approaching the townhouse as ourselves, not as fake merchant and reluctant concubine. There was no need to put on any act.

The real Kyubei was waiting inside to greet us. He smiled and bowed formally as if we had been gone a year rather than just a couple of months.

“Did you keep watch on…?” Mitsuhide left the rest of the question trail off, which mean this likely had more to do with my mystery surprise and less to do with whatever Motonari was doing.

I unobtrusively tried to listen in on Mitsuhide’s conversation with Kyubei, but what little I could pick up was in kind of a master/vassal shorthand of half sentences. Eventually, Mitsuhide noticed me lingering in the corner. “Dear me, is a little spy trying to spoil her surprise?”

He should be well aware by now that I was not a fan of surprises, even one that he had promised was a “good” surprise, so I just crossed my arms and glared at him.

“Patience, Brat, I’m just confirming the timing of it all.”

Knowing that was all I was going to get out of him, I retreated upstairs and unpacked the few items of clothing I’d brought to Sakai with me. As I was changing out of my dusty travel clothes, Mitsuhide joined me – and once again he was wearing the long, dark wig. “I thought the disguise was retired.” Please don’t make me dress up as Kaya. I’d happily put away the Kaya identity for good, and at the moment was wearing one of Mai’s hastily altered kimonos. Though it wasn’t completely to my taste, it was a lot more casual than the elaborate concubine disguise.

Correctly sensing the direction of thoughts, Mitsuhide helped me adjust the fold on my obi. “It’s temporary. The man we are going to see knows me only as Kyubei. You, on the other hand, are perfectly fine.” He tugged on my hair, and of course the hairstyle instantly fell apart. Without Sho to help, I was useless in the coiffure department. “In any disguise… or, er, disarray.”

He helped restore my hair, and then, in a move reminiscent of his former disguise, he extended his arm. Without any hesitation, I took it and we walked out into the chill winter evening. “Are we walking?”

“Are you saying you would prefer to huddle up in a palanquin?” The teasing smile he gave me indicated that any future palanquin travel we did would be far less innocent than our last trip. “That could, of course, be arranged, but tonight, we’re not travelling very far.”

Though I puzzled for a moment as to whether or not that had been a clue to my surprise, his purposefully bland look offered no additional help. We were not heading in the direction of Francisco’s, so that possibility was off the table. Instead, we ended up in the local retail section – not the business area with merchant’s large import/export warehouses, but the smaller apothecaries, clothing shops and tea houses patronized by the people of Sakai.

Even so, when Mitsuhide stopped in front of an herbalist’s storefront, it seemed an odd choice. My confusion grew when he led me through the shop and up the stairs to the living area. Once we reached the top of the stairs, he stepped aside, allowing me to face the man who had risen from his dinner to greet us.

A man whose face I had seen nearly every day until I was nineteen… and after that, had only been viewable via a drawing. “Toshiie!”

While my brother stood there stunned, I threw myself into his arms. “I thought I saw you in Sakai last fall… but I figured I was imagining it.”

He allowed me a long hug before stepping out of the embrace. “I was going to rescue you… I just needed more time to…” He glanced at the teapot on the table.

“Rescue me? From what?” It sounded like Toshiie had… already known I was in Sakai?

He turned and faced Mitsuhide. “Him.”

@lorei-writes @bestbryn @selenacosmic @lyds323 @tele86 @akitsuneswife

#10things #10 things I hate about Mitsuhide #mitsuhide monday #mitsuhide akechi #ikesen mitsuhide #ikemen sengoku #fanfic #ao3 link #oc katsuko #katsuverse

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 2 years

Text

Head over feet

ʚ Pairing: Thranduil x Fem. Reader

ʚ Word count: 2033 words

ʚ Themes: Fluff | Soft

ʚ Summary : After catching the King’s interest, you have been invited to stay in his halls. What plan does he actually have for you?

Author's notes: This was inspired by the Alanis Morissette song, which I absolutely adore.

The sun was streaming through the windows when you finally opened your eyes. A new day had dawned in Mirkwood, and you feel lazy despite the cheerful sunshine outside. Someone hummed behind a screen. It must have been Elirien, your lady-in-waiting, preparing your bath.

"I still can’t believe I’m here." You toss your pelt aside and stare up at the gilded ceiling. "Me. Of all people."

Elirien smirked as she busied herself fixing your bath. "Shocked that you’re here, or shocked that the Elvenking invited you, out of all the others?"

"Both, truth be told," you sit and rub the sleep out of your eyes, taking a deep breath and sighing contentedly when wisps of orange fill your lungs. The incense he had sent over last night helped you immensely with sleep. "I mean, I was invited by him. Him." You whisper through your teeth as she comes over to you with your bathrobe. "Thranduil Oropherion! I want to pinch myself sometimes, to make sure that I’m not—owww!"

"Won’t leave a mark." Your handmaid inspected your arm. "And now you know you’re not dreaming."

Your eyes narrowed to little slits. "Oh, how I hate you."

"You say that my lady, but deep down, you know you love me and would be a lost cause without me."

You rub your arm, trying hard not to grin, "But why me?"

Why you, indeed? Thranduil had met several eligible ladies at a feast a few weeks ago but had only sought you out. He’d send little notes to you, little tokens and gifts just because. He even invited you to stay in his halls with him. That was something that he hadn’t done for anyone besides a select few friends of his.

"Maybe he’s smitten," said Elirien as she carefully laid out your outfit for the day. "Now, hurry up before your bath grows cold."

"But how can he be smitten, Eli?" The sigh of contentment rose from your toes the moment you slipped into the warm, fragrant water. "It’s only been a few weeks."

"That’s enough for some people," she said. "And the king is two thousand years old. I’m sure an ellon his age knows exactly what he wants."

She had a point. "Hmph." You play with the water, watching little ripples form every time your fingers move across the surface. "I guess that’s true. What should I do though?"

"Let him win you over." The grin came easily enough. "It’s what you want, yes? And please don’t lie to me, my lady. I’ve seen the way you look at him when you think no one is looking."

Your lady and her sharp eyes. "You know me too well, I think," you retort. "Anyway, what makes you think he wants to win me over?" you say defensively. "For all we know, Thranduil is just being a generous host."

"That’s because I have seen the way he has been looking at you, my lady," she hummed. "And the way he looks at you… mmm-mmm. I would give anything to have someone look at me like that."

Your protest dies on your tongue. You too have occasionally caught the looks, the winks that made your stomach get all tied up in knots and your heart hammer away in your chest. It felt as if the King had eyes for no one else but you. "Urgh. When you’re right, you’re right. "

How Elirien smirked in triumph. "I’m right because I’m always right. Why have you not realized that?"

That cocky grin you knew so well brought a smile out of you. "My goodness, woman, your arrogance is astounding."

Her retort vanished when someone knocked on the door. It was one of the King’s aides.

"What is that?"

"A posy," she said as she brought a crystal vase filled with cheerful blooms. All your favorite flowers. "And a note."

While she arranged the vase, you read the note.

My dearest,

I hope your morning has been wonderful thus far.

I have some free time during the next few hours, and I would like to show you around the gardens. You have not seen it yet, have you? It’s quite beautiful this time of year, and there is a little maze that I’m sure you’d love to explore.

Afterward, I was hoping you’d join me for breakfast in the library. It’s quiet there, and we can talk peacefully, away from the chaos of the day.

I’ll be waiting for you at the entrance of the gardens. Alphanar, my aide, will show you where it is.

Until then,

Namárië

"He. Is. Smitten." Said Elirien. "From lady y/n to dear y/n to my dearest in such a short spell?" She tilts her head and goes over the letter. "I’d wager it won’t be long before he starts calling you meleth and proposes to you."

"It’s a long way from my dearest to meleth." You retort. "And a much longer way from will you walk with me to saying I do. Besides, Thranduil can still change his mind."

"I highly doubt he’ll change his mind." She tuts and lifts your chin. "Thranduil has been introduced to many eligible ladies, yet he has only ever sought your company. I'm--"

You interrupt her and mutter. "Still odd, if you ask me."

"I’m not finished." Elirien shot back gently. She waits until you finish your grumbling. "You are the one he invited to stay here, in his halls, with him. He goes out of his way to ensure your happiness and comfort. He stops whatever he’s doing just to listen to you. He has eyes for no one but you. If those are not signs of his attachment to you, then I don’t know what is."

Thranduil would indeed go out of his way for you, sometimes rearranging his own schedules so he could spend more time with you. There are times when you’re not even sure if he’s listening, but he always surprises you in the end.

"Perhaps you’re right," you said, getting out of the tub. "Right. Let’s get me presentable for the king."

After getting dressed, you take a good, deep breath, to steady your nerves. When Alphanar stopped by, you follow him to the gardens.

🍂🍂🍂

Thranduil had been pacing near the entrance, just as nervous as you. Tauriel, his captain, watched him walk impatiently with barely disguised amusement. "You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?"

Tauriel snickered and went back to an apple she was eating. "Very much, your grace. I mean, it’s not every day one gets to see the Elvenking all tied up in knots."

Tied up in knots. If only she knew. "Where do you think lady y/n is?" Thranduil asked with an impatient breath. "Do you think she changed her mind?"

She shook her head. "I doubt she has, your grace. Be patient."

He harrumphed and went back to pacing. Thranduil had been eager to show you the gardens. Because it meant spending time with you. Because he loved being around you. Because he...

Thranduil sighed and held onto the garden railing. "I'm done for, aren't I?"

"It's been obvious to us all, your grace," Tauriel said evenly. "For more than a few days now. You love her. It's plain as day."

The words made a wave of deep yearning wash over him. "I'm not as subtle as I thought."

"No, your grace, you're not." Tauriel looked up when she heard a door open. "And since your girl is here, you can stop your pacing. The grass will thank you for it."

"Thank you." Thranduil squeaked and narrowed his eyes. "Now scatter."

His captain chuckled and walked off after greeting you. "Your Majesty," you say as you try not to stare. The king had been garbed in red velvet and gold and looked resplendent this morning. He smiled and helped you to your feet. "Thranduil, please."

"Thranduil." Wait. Did he blush when you said his name?

Thranduil fought for composure. The sight of you was enough to make butterflies flutter in his stomach and his mind go blank for all else. He took several deep breaths to regain control of his already twisted tongue. You deserved a king, not a bumbling elfling. "Shall we?" He extended an arm, waiting for you to link yours through his before the both of you took off.

"How was your night, y/n?" He asked companionably enough. "Did you sleep well?"

"Very well," you say with a smile. "The incense you sent was extremely helpful. Thank you."

"I'm glad." Beaming, the King led you along the paths that were so familiar to him. He hoped you too would grow to love the place he called home. "And how are your brothers? Did any of them succeed in that archery contest?"

You were stunned that he even remembered you prattling on about your brothers and their antics in your father's army. "Sadly, no. My best friend’s brother did. My own brothers wrote to complain about horrible bows and lousy arrows. The youngest kept complaining of the sun getting in his eyes." You stop and think. "Come to think about it, he always complains about the sun getting in his eyes."

Thranduil's chest rumbled even as he laughed. "I must confess, I too sometimes blame the sun, but my warriors don't hold it against me."

"The great Elvenking blaming the sun?" You laid hands on your cheeks and feigned shock. "What must your warriors think of you, sir?"

His laughter sounded so sweet to your ears. "A question that will keep me awake many a night, I assure you." Thranduil grew serious as he led you to the maze. He wanted to gauge how you truly felt about life in Mirkwood, as your happiness here was of the utmost importance to him. "How do you find life here, y/n?" he asked finally. "Is it-- is it to your liking?"

"I do," you said, looking around. The gardens were breathtaking, and the flowers provided a riot of colour that appealed to your heart. You could see yourself living here for good with Thranduil, but Thranduil had to ask himself. "I love everything here."

"Love it enough to live here for good?" he asked hopefully. "What I mean is, would you--would you consider living here for good-- with me?"

You look at him, discreetly pinching yourself to make sure you're not imagining things. The twinge in your arm convinced you that you were not imagining things and that the king wanted you to stay with him.

The king wanted you to stay with him. Did that mean he was going to ask what you think he was going to ask? "You want me to stay here with you?"

Thranduil groaned inside, for this should have been so easy. He grew incredibly nervous, even gulping so loudly that you actually heard it. "Thranduil is eve..."

He stopped, straightened his spine, and took your hand in his. He was no blithering elfling, and he wasn't going to act like one in your presence. "I love you y/n. I'm in love with you."

"I-- I have searched for my other half for longer than I can remember," he continued, his voice trembling. "And that night, when we were introduced, my heart rejoiced, for my search was over. My other half is you. It has always been you. I love you, y/n. I will always love you. Meleth," You gasp as he took the final step needed when it came to his feelings for you. "Will you-- will you have me for your own?"

Blue eyes looked into yours with such hope. You seriously consider what you were going to say. Marriage was a big deal after all.

And you’d be married to the Elvenking, it couldn’t get bigger than that.

Fingers tracing lines along your knuckles reminded you that Thranduil was probably expecting an answer. And he was. More than anything.

You look around you again. You'd be happy here. You could see yourself happy with him. You could definitely see yourself falling in love with him. Or perhaps, you already were?

"Yes." Overjoyed, Thranduil pulled you into a hug before giving you a kiss. "My answer is yes."

#who doesnt love soft thranduil #soft and fluffy #thranduil #thranduil imagine #thranduil x reader #the hobbit #elves #for the love of silver elven hair #a world of whimsy writes #creative writing #writing #fanfiction #writeblr

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stuffymcstuffsworld · 9 months

Text

A star is born

How exactly did you end up here again? You supposed it didn't really matter as you now stood on stage with hundreds of eyes watching you. But still, weren't you too old to be dressing up and singing pop songs?

The children seemed to be enjoying it, though, and joining in, so how could you just walk away. Twirling around in the flowy skirt you had been forced into and trying your best to keep balance in the heel boots, they had jammed onto your feet. You suppose you should feel grateful. Grateful they didn't try to put you in something more ridiculous or revealing than what you were currently wearing.

Eyeing Raim and Mar, who were watching you from backstage, you shuddered for a second, remembering how they all but dragged you here after listening to you humming a few bars of one of the newest akudols songs. The students, upon recognizing you, gave a loud cheer that seemed to shake the entire school, and well, how were you supposed to turn aware such support? So there you were, dancing and singing to all the most popular hits in the flashing lights, blowing kisses to the crowd.

But really, you wanted to share one song from your old life with them. It wouldn't hurt. It's not like anyone would find out. Raising a hand, you stopped the band and turned to the roaring crowd. "This next song is different. I don't think any of you have heard this one before, so please relax and enjoy a song that I have enjoyed many times." You softly said as you reached out and wrote some notes on the back of the bands sheet music.

"Can I get a spotlight?" You shouted up to the lighting crew that was quick to make the changes. Taking a deep breath you thought to yourself. 'Here goes nothing.' Planting your feet as the music started to climb to a peak.

☆Stagelights flashing... the feelings smashing, my heart and soul belong to you~☆

You loved the songs from robotech as a kid growing up. You had such few pleasures, so you wanted to be able to share at least one of them. Lynn minmei had captured your heart for music.

☆And I'm here now, singing, all bells are ringing. My dream has finally come true~☆

You spun quickly in time with the beat, making your way front and center. You hoped this would be well received by them. You wanted to keep having fun with the students of babyls.

☆Stage fright, go away.... this is my big day. This is my time to be a star~☆

You saw Kerori in the front row staring at you in shock, tears streaming down her face. You gave what you hopped was an encouraging wink and continued to belt out the lyrics.

☆And the thrill that I feel - it's really unreal. I can't believe I've come this far~ This is my time to be a star~☆

The lights cut out, and you stumbled off stage, exhausted. "No" You said before Mar could get a word in. You were not going to do this professionally. Your feet already hurt enough from this time. You pried off the killer shoes and was about to make your way to the dressing room to change when you heard. "Please teach me!"

You froze misstep. It was one of your kids. How could you possibly ignore a request? Especially when Kerori had never asked you for anything before. "I'm not a professional. Are you sure you want me to teach you?" You chose your words carefully so as not to break the look of determination she held.

"Yes! Please teach me!" She bowed before you, and honestly, your kids were just the cutest. "Okay, I'll teach you the best I can." The genuine excitement that oozed out of her was more than worth the exhausting feeling you would get later. After all, how could you not want to bond with all your kids. Each had different goals and interests, after all.

#mairimashita! iruma kun #reader #welcome to demon school iruma kun #crocell kerori #idol

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hecatemoon87 · 1 year

Text

PART II

Read PART I Part III

Warning: Starts off smutty

Wynter lay on her back, her legs spread open, and in between them, firmly planted, was Leo Demidov. The handsome Russian detective thrusted softly, his engorged manhood pulling in and out of her dewy core. He was giving Wynter the most sensual and pleasurable fuck she had ever experienced. Her hands traveled down his sweaty back, raking her nails gently down his taut bronzed skin and coming to rest on his firm buttocks.

Beep, Beep, Beep! The piercing and annoying sound of her morning alarm tore her from this glorious dream. Wynter rolled over in bed and attempted to pick up her phone from the nightstand. Instead, she succeeded in knocking it to the floor. “Ngh, damn it!”

She rested face first on the mattress, seriously deliberating about calling in sick. But then she remembered she was supposed to meet Leo for coffee at Maribel's Café. She pulled herself out of bed and jumped into the shower. From her dream she had become slick between her legs and she washed it away slightly embarrassed in the hot stream of the shower.

Leo was her partner, she couldn’t be interested in him. Even though this was the third sex dream with him in a week. She was very aware he was handsome. Also funny, intelligent, compassionate and incredibly sexy. No, she couldn’t be interested in him. Oh, who was she kidding? She liked him a lot, and it was growing harder and harder to suppress her feelings for him. “Wynter, get a freaking grip!” she said as she turned off the shower faucet.

She made her way to the Cafe, a thirty minute drive downtown. As she walked in, she saw Leo off to the corner with two cups of coffee. Wynter sat down and picked up her coffee he had placed on her side of the table. “You’re late,” he said. She took a sip and wrinkled her nose. “Ew, it’s cold.”

“It would have been hot if…” Leo started to say, but Wynter cut him off. “If I had been on time. I know, thanks dad.” She said, rolling her eyes and kicking him playfully from beneath the table. “Ow,” Leo said, in mock pain. “Oh, shut up,” Wynter said, grinning and waving down the waitress for a hot cup of coffee.

Leo smiled and took a drink from his cup. His soulful blue eyes peered over the brim at her, giving Wynter a pleasurable jolt between her legs. She darted her eyes away from him, thinking of her dreams where his body was melded to her body, and his cock molded into her slick canal. Her cheeks felt warm, she was sure she was blushing.

“So, I guess we’ll clear up the paperwork today then, don’t you think?” she said, trying to return the situation to normal. “Doubt it,” Leo said, placing his cup down on the table. “Always the optimist,” Wynter said, smiling and grabbing a sugar packet. She tore it open and dumped it into her cup, then poured a bit of cream into it.

“Realism is never a bad thing,” he said, shaking a finger at her. “No shit, Leo. We’re homicide detectives, I think I do a good job living in reality.” “I’m just saying, don’t make plans for the weekend.” Wynter sighed and picked up her spoon to stir her coffee into a creamy, sweet blend.

“Why not? We can get it done before the end of day and then you can go on that hot date Saturday night,” she said, winking at him. “Hot date? What hot date?” he said, frowning and tilting his head slightly in confusion. Wynter thought he looked adorable. “I’m joking Leo. But you really should get out there again,” she said.

Leo’s girlfriend had broken up with him ten months ago. He had been devastated and only within the past few months had he returned to normal. “I don’t think so. I’m not ready. And maybe dating is just not my thing,” he said, shaking his head.

“Dating is not your thing? Seriously, you’re so fatalistic,” she said, nudging his leg. “I’m not, really. I just need a break, that’s all. What about you? You aren’t dating anyone either,” he said. Wynter shrugged, “I haven’t met the right guy. I mean, there’s a quick fuck here and there, but a relationship?”

Leo’s face seemed to register something close to surprise or dismay when she said, quick fuck. She hoped he wasn’t judging her. “Oh, so…so you’ve been with a lot of guys?” he asked. Wynter furrowed her brow and replied, “What if I have? I’m not a slut, Leo.” He edged forward on his chair and shook his head. “Nyet, I mean, no. I didn’t mean that. Look, I'm sorry, it’s none of my business.”

Wynter tossed her hair back over her shoulder and sat a little taller. “Good, because a girl has needs, and just because I want cock without commitment doesn't mean I'm a slut.” Leo nodded seriously, but broke out in a smile. "Cock without commitment, you always have a way with words, Wynter."

"Whatever, but why are you asking? You never have before." Leo shifted in his chair and looked around the Café. "I was just curious. Comparing notes." "You mean you were seeing if you could match me? You're too competitive! Fine, I've been with eleven guys." Leo's expression changed to shock. "Only eleven?" He said, sarcastically. "Hey! Shut up. Now, how many have you been with?" "Pretty sure it has been zero guys, although there was this weird time in Moscow when I blacked out on vodka…"

Winter giggled and shook her head. "Leo!" "Okay, okay, three," he said. Wynter wrinkled her nose, "Three? You're lying!" "No, I'm not. What can I say, I'm a hopeless romantic."

"Three? How? I mean, look at you!” Wynter said, motioning at all of Leo. "What does that mean," Leo said, mimicking her gesture. Wynter bit her lip. She wasn’t certain how to explain. “Like, you know, you’re….you’re a good-looking guy.”

"You think I'm good-looking?" He asked, with a serious face. "Uh, well…yeah." Wynter said, her cheeks feeling warm yet again. "Look, it's almost time to get to work, I'll see you there?" Wynter said, standing up. "Yeah, sure," Leo replied.

Wynter walked quickly to the door, feeling like she had given up the secret that she was attracted to Leo.

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therealityhelix · 7 months

Text

Shards of the Nexus: Tangled Pinstripes

Things were very tenuous for him, in the beginning.

Song: Building a Mystery- Sarah McLachlan

@cardwrecks @captainbaddecisions

Detective watched as his blonde counterpart took a slow pull from his glittery green vape, and breathed out a long stream of apple scented steam.

“Well,” he said. “At least my other me's are hot.”

Detective and YJ shared a glance.

“It's good you're taking this so well.” YJ said, soft lisp sliding along his tongue. “Because we know there is another, and we think there may be more. Are you interested?”

“In what?” the blonde asked, splaying himself indolently across his couch. “I'mma be real wit'chu fellas. I ain't really interested in some riddle man fan club. Tryin' to leave all that behind.”

“As did I.” Detective said. “Of course, you would not be forced to participate in anything you didn't want to. This is not some kind of secret society. But...it is fascinating, is it not? Other worlds, multiversal theory. That you can reach into another reality and find yourself.”

“I dunno. Sounds like a whole bunch of not my business.”

“You aren't even interested in other worlds?” YJ asked, incredulous.

“Look, gentlefriends, I got a good thing goin' here.” He pulled himself off the couch and stretched. “And I ain't inclined to fuck around with it, especially not for the sake of the Riddler. Hate that guy. Now, if you'll excuse me...Feel free to buy a drink, watch the night life, whatever, but don't you cause no problems in my club.”

He walked right past them, out into the undulating chaos of the dance floor, where several people immediately draped themselves all over him.

Arkham chuckled.

“Ooh, he's got a bit of swagger, hasn't he? Ha. I kind of want to break his legs.”

“We cannot force anyone.” Detective said. “That isn't the point of this.”

“I can't imagine anyone with a mind like ours having no interest in the multiverse.” YJ muttered.

“Just give it a bit of time.” Arkham said. “The seed's planted now. If he's worthy of the name, he won't be able to resist learning more. And if he's not...no need to waste our time.”

There was no threat contained within the words, but the way Arkham said it sparked worry in YJ's mind. When Detective described finding their counterparts in other worlds, there was a definite edge of urgency involved. If Arkham fully agreed with Detective's quest, YJ couldn't help but wonder how far he might go to make sure that quest wasn't endangered.

Loyalty wasn't a word YJ would ascribe to Arkham, but decisiveness certainly was.

“I think I actually would like a drink, honestly.” Detective said. “Why waste what might be our only opportunity to see what kind of concoctions a Riddler might come up with?”

YJ joined them at the question mark shaped bar. People made room for them, giving both he and Detective appreciative looks. Bashfulness warmed his fuzzy cheeks. Detective, of course, was incredibly beautiful, like the angels of myth. Himself, however...Well, he didn't think he was ugly! Far from it! It was just that, on his world, in his line of work, people like him were not very favored. He was aware of the traits he had that others would consider 'flaws'. The gap in his teeth, the lisp in his voice, the color blindness, the neurodivergence, all the crime. But the people here had imperfect faces, wild make up, raccoon tail stripes in their hair. They wore platform boots, and neon fishnets, and they smiled at him and winked.

The dancers didn't all dance well, but they danced freely, and everyone sparkled in the lights from the floor and ceiling, spangled in the reflected magic of the spinning disco ball.

This place was hypnotic, and the Mesmer in the center was the Riddler who wasn't, the Riddler who didn't claim it, but displayed it everywhere nonetheless. Question mark iconography peppered the entire place, named it, shaped it, hung from the non-Riddler's neck like a golden noose. The drinks menu was full of villain-themed cocktails, of green and gold and violet.

Trying to leave that all behind, he had said, and yet, to YJ it seemed he had simply dragged it all into a different venue, turned a spotlight on it, and commanded it to dance.

Perhaps that was how he gained control. They all had their ways.

He ordered the least alcoholic thing on the menu and smiled back at the girl next to him. Detective chatted up a young man who looked both confused and thrilled. And Arkham-

He had lost track of Arkham.

?~?~?~?~?

Edward slipped out of the crowd and into the kitchen, unnoticed by anyone save the cooks.

“Yeah, three of them!” he exclaimed into his phone. “This is getting outta hand. I know we thought somethin' like this might happen since that other Harley came through, but...any other 'you's' show up?”

The gravelly voice on the other end answered in the negative.

“Damn. I'm still not sure they're legit, or some mindfuck Sionis whipped up to run me off since he wants to claim this as his turf, even though it's obviously mine. Yeah I know he doesn't think it counts cause I stopped doin' the riddly thing, but that doesn't mean I gotta give up to some other asshole. Speaking of-!”

He spun to the side, deftly dodging the hand reaching out from behind him.

It was the big one, the one that had stayed quiet almost the whole time the pretty one was talking, just staring intensely. He was still staring, his chapped lips stretched into a thin smile.

“Hey! Employees only, dickfuck!” Edward snapped. “Get outta here!”

The smile widened, though it didn't seem to reach his icy eyes. Edward slipped his hand into his pocket in deceptive nonchalance. There was more in there than just his glittery vape.

“Shelby. Andrew. Scram.” he said, and the two cooks fled through the employee exit.

“Toldja I didn't want none of this.” he continued, his fingers threading through the fused rings of a set of knuckledusters. “So if Miss Marple out there sent you in to be the bulldog, they got another thing comin'.”

“Do you think they command me?” the other him asked, rough and sneering. “Have you chosen a leader already?”

“I didn't choose nothin'!”

“Really? Then why are you here, running a speakeasy? I'd call that a choice.”

Too close too close too close! The menacing Riddler slithered up on him like some grinning eel, right up in his face in open challenge.

“Back the fuck off, bruh.”

“Or what?” The larger Riddler reached for his face. He whipped his hand out of his pocket and smashed a fistful of brass across the other man's jaw. The man staggered, but drove his own fist into Edward's stomach. He was a lot stronger than Edward expected, and he doubled over, both men simultaneously struggling with and supporting each other. The other Riddler reached into his jacket in search of something Edward didn't give him the chance to find. He stomped down hard on he other mans foot, snatching a knife off the countertop as the larger man's greater weight dragged him down. Crouching over him like a wasp over a tarantula, Edward held the knife to his neck.

“Fuckin' warned you!” he snarled through teeth gritted so hard it hurt his jaw. “Could'a just fuckin' left me alone, I wanted to be left alone, could'a just bounced, but no! You had to fuck around, and now I gotta...I...”

A thin line of red at the edge of the blade, a string of scarlet seed beads on his stubbled throat. Edward flung the knife away.

“Still got it.” the older man mocked.

“Fuck you!” he hissed. “I was doing fine before you showed up! I was fine!”

“Were you really?” he backed away, and the older Riddler sat up. “Seems to me you're holding on by a thread. If the tiniest little push can break you down like that.”

“Shut the fuck up. What do you even want from me?”

“Do you have what it takes?”

“I told you, I'm leaving that behind!”

“That's not what I meant.”

“Then what the fuck did you mean?”

“Do you have. What it takes.”

“You know what, I don't fuckin' care. You can go be a creepy bitch out on the street. I'm officially kicking you out.”

The one with the mullet shoved his way into the kitchen.

“Hey, have you seen...Oh no.”

“Hey, good timing.” Edward said. “Collect your friend and get the fuck out, before I wreck his ass for real.”

“How will you do that?” the older Riddler challenged, inclining his head toward the knife under the table. “You've thrown away your advantage.”

“I can get another.” Edward threatened.

“Arkham, we said not to antagonize him!” the third Riddler groaned, exasperated. The older Riddler shrugged.

“Instructions unclear.” he said dismissively. “Besides, we can't leave now. He needs our help.”

“Like fuck I do.”

“I hear you've got a problem with the Roman.”

Edward sneered.

“Roman Sionis is a punk ass bitch who's just mad he got to the party late. Wants to prove he can be a big man in the masked crowd, but that ship has mostly sailed. So now he thinks he can be the only one in town, and tries to bully the rest of us. Just some upstart who doesn't know the rules.”

“You have rules?”

“You don't? Psh, doesn't surprise me.”

The older Riddler smiled that cold half-smile.

“I've got rules.”

The third Riddler helped the older fellow up.

“I'm sorry about him...”

“Don't you dare ever apologize for me, boy. You aren't that weak.” the older Riddler-Arkham-growled.

“Stop compromising my manners then.” the younger Riddler shot back. “We already said we weren't going to force him. I don't want you making liars of us.”

“Why, I did no such thing. I didn't even touch him until he attacked me.” Arkham said. The third Riddler flicked his umber gaze in Edward's direction.

Edward seethed. Goddamnit, it was true. The fucker had baited him, and he'd fallen for it. Practically jumped at it. He wanted to leave it all behind, but damn if he hadn't been ready to kill.

Damnit, did he have what it took?

“Hey, hold on.” he said. “Hypothetically speaking, if some wannabe crime boss with a black, skull shaped edgelord mask, like, say, Roman Sionis was breathing his gross breath down your neck, but you was trying real hard not to be a little murder gremlin, what would you do?”

Arkham grinned, and this time it reached his eyes.

“Well, that depends. Do I happen to have any friends who still embrace the 'murder gremlin' lifestyle? Am I willing to look the other way? All important questions.”

“Yeah. And what would that cost me?”

He continued smiling. Edward sighed.

“Tell Nancy Drew I'll have a sit down talk with them.”

The younger Riddler ushered Arkham out of the kitchen. Edward retrieved his phone.

“Harvey? Yeah, I'm fine. Hey listen, I'm gonna have to call you back, okay?”

#shards of the nexus #swag!riddler #arkham!riddler #detective!riddler #yj!riddler

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storyunrelated · 3 months

Text

Bottled up

Perhaps a good fifteen or twenty feet across, James’ platform was just one of many such little outcrops throughout the cave, albeit one of the few large enough to live on. Lucky him.

The light from his fire cut through the gloom of the cave and let him see maybe two or three others in the distance but they were more like stalagmite than platforms, really. Too small to stand on. No use to anyone.

He didn’t mind though. Life on the platform was more comfortable than you’d expect, though lonely. James didn’t think he’d ever seen another person, now he came to think about it. Or if he had he certainly couldn’t remember it.

Every day in the cave it was just him on his platform with his tiny hut and his fire and the silent, echoing sounds of absolutely nothing else.

He was pretty used to it. Being alone was normal.

After gathering cave wood (which sprouted from just under the lip of the platform and was only moderately perilous to collect), getting his fire going and seeing to the essentials of life James would - without fail - settle down to write something.

What he wrote varied, though he tried for narrative consistency in his story about an adventurous cave vole. He named the vole Harold (a strong name), and enjoyed thinking up nail-biting events for him to wrestle with. Harold went through a lot, but endured it with bravery, good humour, and a smile.

Sometimes James just didn’t feel like doing that one though, which was okay. Sometimes he liked to mix it up. Dipping a specially sharpened piece of cave-wood into a puddle of cave-ink (the source of which remained a mystery to him) and setting it to cave-parchment James would write down whatever he felt like that day.

Once he was done he would roll said parchment, slip it into his bottle and send it off into the cave dangling beneath the heavily repaired lantern he had for just such a purpose. It just felt like the thing to do.

He would sit and watch the little light of the lantern growing smaller and smaller as it drifted off into the cave before finally turning that far corner and winking out from sight. It’d be back. It always came back.

The origin of the bottle was another mystery (most things in the cave were, to be honest). Many years ago, when James had been a younger man, he had once woken up to find the bottle on his platform. This had been a first for James, and he had been understandably surprised - so surprised he didn’t notice the sad, deflated remains of the lantern the bottle had ridden to get there until afterwards.

Inside the bottle had been a poem. He hadn’t even liked it that much if he was honest, though it had helped him get the fire going that one time the cave-wood supplies had got a bit thin.

More though, it was what the poem represented that hooked his interest. Someone else was out there! Someone else sitting in a cave James had always thought he was the sole occupant of. What was more, this meant there was a definite means of reaching them!

A quirk of the airflow within the cave - which was well-known to James, pioneer of the parchment-airplane as he was - was a particular stream of air that ran more-or-less in a complete circuit around the known interior of the cave. Around and around, carrying things far and along.

Or at least that was what James thought. Given the darkness it was hard to tell, but his few experiments with it had seen a crude craft of his own design float off into the gloom and return the next day none the worse for wear.

The lantern, he had imagined, would fly much better. It did.

No-one ever replied. Nothing he sent ever got any kind of response. Whoever had sent the poem in the first place - and anyone else who might have happened to be in the way, assuming they existed - apparently didn’t feel the need to comment.

James knew they were getting them, too. It wasn’t like they weren’t. The bottles always came back and they always came back empty. There was no-way the parchment could just fall out. He’d fixed the bottles so they couldn’t.

The first time his bottle came back sans-writing he imagined that their response would be forthcoming in another bottle. Perhaps they needed some time to write it, but thought that James would still need his bottle.

How considerate of them, James thought. So he waited.

But they had never sent anything. James was torn between the terror of sounding needy by producing something new and the nagging worry that they might need his bottle to reply in the first place. He kept waiting, just to hedge his bets. Some time later, he finally cracked and wrote something else, sending it off into the dark, towards whoever was out there.

The bottle came back empty, again.

Maybe they were still writing responses to the first and now needed time for the second, he thought, starting to wait again. Eventually James stopped waiting and just wrote something every time the bottle came back. It kept getting opened and it kept getting emptied, and James continued to sit on his platform alone and in silence, writing for when the bottle would come back and sending it off again when it did.

Maybe his work wasn’t good enough. This idea popped out of nowhere one day and stopped James in his tracks.

Objectively, living without any real constructive feedback, James had no way of knowing how good or not what he was doing might have been. But now the idea was in his head. He quickly became convinced that it must have been pretty bad - why else wouldn’t they reply? Why else wouldn’t they say anything?

Not having a single clue what was expected of him, James tried much harder. If you tried harder, that would mean you were more likely to succeed. Right?

Of course, he had no idea what this meant, so in practical terms he just ended up losing weight from worrying about his performance - which dipped. The bottles kept leaving and kept coming back empty, and James’ desperation grew as his frame shrank.

He had to do better, he had to try harder.

Maybe they didn’t like Harold the vole. James could understand that. Now that he looked back over what he’d done, he could admit Harold the vole was stupid. He could see why they’d ignored it. He’d have ignored it too. It was stupid. Boring.

How had he not realised that before? He’d do much better. Forget the vole. He’d never waste his time on that again. He’d try something else. He’d make something better.

Or at least he’d try. He told himself he would. He thought he’d tried, but they still hadn’t replied. Maybe he was getting worse? Maybe he was doing it wrong? Maybe he was bad at trying?

He asked the cave but the cave said nothing. It was just dark and quiet. It told him nothing. Swallowed up everything he said in silence.

James was pretty sure he was getting worse. It didn’t help that his trousers kept falling down. They used to fit him quite well, now not so much. He made a belt but it stopped working after a while. He was finding it harder to get to sleep. It was just so quiet. He’d never been bothered by it before but now it was impossible to ignore.

With his hands shaking so much now it was hard to write. His fires weren’t as bright anymore either since he was getting so difficult to gather wood for it, and it didn’t help that he was just so tired all the time these days. Eating hurt.

Some days he couldn’t even gather enough energy to write. Some days he forced himself to but all that came out were scrawls he couldn’t read and couldn’t remember what they meant in the first place.

Not that it mattered. No-one ever replied. He doubted they even noticed, whoever they were, wherever they were.

One day, lying curled up by his dying fire in an effort to ward off the cold - he was always cold now - James caught a flicker of something moving in the corner of his eye. With supreme effort he pushed himself onto his elbow and peered up.

His heart practically burst when he saw another bottle drifting towards his platform. A new bottle. One he’d never seen before.

Dragging himself on his belly across the platform he frantically swiped at the bottle, catching it out of the air. Rolling onto his back he struggled with trembling fingers to open it and, after much effort, managed.

The cork rolled off the edge and fell away out of sight, but James didn’t care. Up-ending the bottle he held it with both hands and gave it a shake, watching the rolled parchment sliding its way out before plopping onto his chest. He unfurled it.

It was another poem. From the same person as the first, judging by the style. It made no mention of James’ vole, their opinions on James’ vole, their opinions on anything else he’d ever done or indeed any sign they were aware of him at all. Even though they clearly must have been. They had to be. They’d been opening his bottles. He knew they had.

James read it twice to be sure, then a third time, then a fourth through tears. Maybe he just wasn’t good enough yet. Maybe he still had to try harder. Maybe he'd almost got it. Just a bit more. A bit harder.

Letting the empty bottle follow the cork off the side of the platform James pulled himself over to his hut and fumbled around inside for fresh parchment and his old bottle. Sniffling, his writing completely illegible, ink splashing down and mixing with his tears, he forced himself to start something new. Something they’d like this time.

He’d try harder. He had to try harder.

END

#amwriting #Writing #Writblr #Writeblr #Short story #What #Bottled up

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marvelmawrter · 2 years

Text

they reach into your room

6x04 coda - Buck sleeps with Connor but says Eddie’s name

Buck doesn’t know how he got here.

Ok, he does. If pressed, he could explain the winding path that led to him saying his best friend’s name while fucking a married man but. He can’t promise that it makes sense.

“Dude, I’m telling you, I’m not offended in the slightest.” Connor’s sitting on the edge of the bed now, boxers on, calmly putting on his socks. “I literally got permission from my wife to get railed by our sperm donor. And somehow, I don’t think you’ll be knocking me up.”

Buck’s next exhale could almost pass for a laugh, but truthfully he’s barely processing a word Connor says. He’s too busy staring at the wall, trapped in the memory of Eddie’s name echoing around the loft.

“Hey.” Connor’s hand on his arm makes Buck jump, shaking him out of his thoughts. Turning to meet Connor’s eyes, recognizing the kindness in them, Buck thinks that may have been the goal.

“Here.”

Connor’s fully dressed now, but he hasn’t run out the door. Instead, he passes Buck his discarded joggers, turning back to peruse the bookshelf as if his interest in the worn paperbacks isn’t just a cover for giving Buck a minute to pull his shit together.

Buck takes the moment for what it is, quickly standing up and slipping the pants over his hips. To be honest, he hadn’t even realized that he was still naked. That somehow, only minutes ago, he was having sex for the first time in months, fucking Connor into his mattress, back in the familiar satisfaction of bringing someone to the edge. Until his brain betrayed him, dredging up the fantasy that is always lurking beneath the surface, the shameful secret escaping when Buck parted his lips, eyes wide as he scrambled up the bed and away from Connor’s confused, searching eyes-

“Do you want to talk to me? About him?”

Connor’s leaning against the strip of wall next to the stairs now, shoes on, phone in hand. But he’s looking at Buck with a softness he doesn’t deserve, giving him more grace than an old fuckbuddy should warrant. For a moment, Buck’s transported back to a cluttered bedroom in a crowded house, the assertion that they don’t have a thing , they’re just helping each other through a dry spell at odds with the way Connor wouldn’t go back to his room, after. He would stay, and they would talk, their truths easier to lay bare in the dark.

But it’s mid-afternoon, years later, and the sun is streaming through the wall of windows that Buck loves and hates depending on the day. Today, the sun feels like a spotlight on his weaknesses.

He can’t say yes to this.

He’s said yes to so many things. Meeting with Connor to begin with, carefully masking the jealousy that consumed him when confronted with proof of what he could have if he was enough for anyone. Giving them the one thing they can’t have, a baby, since watching from the sidelines is better than having no one at all.

He said yes to having Connor back in his bed, his friend stumbling through assurances that he didn’t want to bring it up until Buck had made his decision, that he would’ve asked even if Buck said no to being a donor, that Kameron was totally aware and on board. She had dropped Connor off this morning, two days after they made arrangements for Buck’s soonest day off, and she’d kissed her husband and winked at them both on her way out the door like it was some sort of X-rated play date.

God, what’s Connor going to tell her when she asks for all of the dirty details? She’s obviously into the whole idea. At least they’ll get a laugh out of how much of a bullet they’re dodging - imagine if they went through with using someone this fucked up to make their kid? They can move on and pick someone who hasn’t blown up his whole life, who knows how to have a relationship, who doesn’t just attach himself to any family that will take him in just to get a taste of what it could feel like. No one wants that level of failure mixed into their kids’ DNA.

Talk about it? About Eddie? Buck takes a minute to imagine pulling Connor back to the bed, sitting across from each other pretzel style, rambling about his crush like an infatuated schoolgirl. But Connor already has enough damning evidence - Buck doesn’t need to offer up even more proof that he’s going nowhere. That he’s playing house to trick himself into believing that he’s doing something worthwhile with this life.

“No.” His voice is hoarse. Buck clears his throat and forces himself to meet Connor’s eyes. “No, I’m good. Nothing to talk about. Just an embarrassing mistake.”

Connor stares back, his gaze unwavering for long enough that Buck wonders if he can see the way the word “mistake” is ping-ponging around his brain. That it defines Buck to his core. If that’s why Connor looks so disappointed and sad.

They’re both quiet for another beat before Connor’s phone vibrates and he pushes off the wall.

“Are you sure? Kameron’s here, she was just hanging out at a coffee shop a few blocks away, but I can stay. We can stay. Order some takeout, watch a movie, whatever.”

Buck shakes his head. “Nah, man. I think I just need to hide out for the rest of the day until I get my pride back, y’know?” He forces out a laugh. “Totally get if you guys want to look for someone new, too…”

“What? No,” Connor’s voice is firm, a fire in his eyes. Maybe if that had come out earlier, when all Buck wanted was someone holding him down instead of the other way around. Maybe if he hadn’t started to imagine someone else in his bed, someone stronger than him. Maybe things would’ve gone differently. Maybe he wouldn’t have-

There’s a hand on his shoulder, a thumb on his collarbone. He flinches.

Connor’s hand slides away, awkwardly settling on Buck’s bicep instead. He steps back as two short bursts from a car horn filter in from the parking lot.

“That’s her. If you’re sure, I’ll get out of your hair. But Buck,” he smiles, voice turning soft like secrets in the dark, “like I said, this is separate. Nothing to do with the baby. We’re so, so excited to do this with you, man.”

Buck blinks, and then Connor’s walking down the stairs. Buck doesn’t move, just listens to the door open and shut. He throws himself back onto the bed, knowing he needs to change the sheets but having zero of the energy needed. He just stares up at his ceiling and breathes.

He’s pulled back to Earth by the chime of a new text message. Buck blindly gropes at his nightstand until he finds his phone, pulling it to his face.

One text from Connor, thirty seconds ago: like I said, no judgment here dude. glad to reconnect today 😏 send me your schedule when you have it - let’s meet up to talk logistics 👶

One text from Eddie, one hour ago: forgot to send this last night - what are we gonna do with him?

There’s a picture, Eddie in a black tank top, rolling his eyes at the camera with his arm outstretched, putting Chris’s XBox on the top shelf of a kitchen cabinet. The one with all of the novelty mugs. The “Emergency Dad Jokes” mug that Buck helped Chris pick out is barely visible behind Eddie’s bicep.

Buck stares a little too long.

Buck roles over, burying his face in his pillow.

Buck screams.

#911fic #evan buckley #connor 911 #Eddie Diaz #buck/connor (sort of)#buddie #be gentle it has been A While #911 spoilers #911 6x04

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sabo-has-my-heart · 2 years

Note

Return Requester Here!

Can I get a Swap Au this time? Marine!Ace and Thief!F!Reader with multi-purpose #7 and fluff #2 would be nice. Thank you so much Astra 🥰💕💓

I wish you all the success, girl!

Warnings: Marine!Ace, fluff, attempted theft

Word Count: 1140

Sneaking into marine compounds usually wasn’t easy. That said, you knew a couple of secrets, particularly about this base. It was hard not to chuckle to yourself as you hid in the shadows until the low ranking marines passed by. You weren’t interested in such low ranking marines, you weren’t interested in the marines in general. Your prize was much, much bigger, the base had gotten their hands on a devil fruit and a good one at that. Further and further, you made your way inwards, taking a deep breath when you finally reached a door. If the blueprints you had were anything to go by and your intel was good, it would be in here. You weren’t surprised by the guards at the door, but the door wasn’t how you were planning to get in.

Dropping down into the room from the vent, you smirked, marines were such fools to think that a few guards in front of the door would stop a world class thief. You quickly grabbed the red devil fruit, smiling as you stared at it. Feeling a pair of hands around you, you froze. Since when did they start having people guarding the room?

“Don’t think I'm letting you get away with that.” a voice said in your ear, holding you tightly. Growling lowly, you looked at the devil fruit in your hand. A logia type, the mera mera fruit. It was either the fruit or you. Elbowing the man behind you, his grip loosened enough for you to kick him off. Spinning around, you shoved the devil fruit in his mouth as he went to call for backup.

“Sorry, cutie, can’t have you catching me that easily.” you said, winking at him before running for the window, shattering the glass as you jumped. The young man that had attacked you soon followed you out, your eyes widening as he tossed a fireball at you. Fuck, you’d just force fed him a logia devil fruit! The sound of sirens had you cursing your luck as you ran. You’d have more marines bearing down on you if you didn’t get out soon.

Ace sighed as he looked down at the map. It had been 3 years since he first met you, since he’d eaten the mera mera fruit. It hadn’t been his intention, but you’d shoved it in his mouth. Thankfully, Garp had gotten him out of trouble with that, though only barely. After that, he’d learned that this wasn’t your first time breaking into a marine base and had made it his mission to catch you. Or at least, that’s what everyone else thought. It was true that it had started out like that, but that’s not how it was anymore. Not since the day he’d actually caught you, not since he’d gotten to know you. So now he chased the infamous thief, Y/n, thwarting your every attempt on marine bases, and ‘protecting the possessions of the military’. He was a ‘hero’ for protecting such valuables and saving men from harm! A hero, ha, a hero wouldn’t purposefully let the ‘bad guy’ get away. A hero wouldn’t be feeding you information about where to hit next so that he could meet up with you again. You never caused much damage and didn’t hurt anyone, so what was the harm so long as he was ‘stopping’ you.

Once again, he was the only one chasing after you, after all, he was the only one who could keep up with you. Again and again in circles, the same chases repeated as he followed you into an old, abandoned building far from his men.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the marine vice admiral, Fire Fist Ace. One might think that a vice admiral would have better things to do than chase after a lowly thief.” your voice cooed, stepping out from the shadows and into the small amount of light that streamed through the boarded up windows.

“I think we both know that you’re more than just a ‘lowly thief’, Y/n.” Ace said, taking a couple of steps forward. In the blink of an eye, the two of you were rushing forward, meeting each other in a passionate kiss, his hands cupping your cheeks, your arms wrapped around his neck. Kiss after kiss, you pulled each other in one after another until you were both too breathless to continue.

“Fuck, I love you so much.” you whispered, fingers playing with his hair, his hands still holding your face.

“I love you too, Y/n.” Ace said breathlessly, resting his forehead against yours.

“I… I missed you. A lot.” you said, looking down.

“I missed you too, which is why you should look at me right now, I want every moment we have together to be spent staring into your eyes.” Ace said, caressing your cheek, making you look back up at him.

“I… I’m a greedy woman, Ace. I want more.” you said, leaning into his touch.

“I know, I want to spend more time with you too, but I have responsibilities. I can’t just abandon my post, my men.” he whispered, pulling you close.

“I know. I just… I want more, more time, more of you, more of your touch.” you said, hands wandering down his arms before moving back up, gently gliding over his chest, before moving up to trace his freckles.

“You can have more, you know you can.” Ace breathed, your hands pausing.

“At what cost? I’m a notorious thief, they wouldn’t just let me off the hook because of your say so.” you said, once more looking at the ground, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“You’re right, they wouldn’t let you off the hook just on the word of a vice admiral, but they might for two vice admirals and a newly appointed admiral.” Ace said, making your head shoot up.

“W-what?” you asked, Ace smirking.

“They want to promote Luffy to admiral. I’ve told my brothers about you, they’d be willing to vouch for you. Please.” Ace pleaded, holding you tightly. You stared at him for a moment, unsure of what to do.

“Can… can I think about it?” you asked, Ace smiling and nodding.

“Take your time. When you finally decide, find a way to send this to me and I’ll meet you on the island where we first kissed.” Ace said, pressing his white and red bracelet in your hand. You smiled and nodded, giving him a quick kiss before slowly walking backwards towards the back door. It was time to part, but no matter your decision, you would always see him again sooner or later, you loved him. Besides, you were pretty sure you already knew your answer, you just needed time to take care of a few things and make sure that the life of a marine was what you really wanted.

#one piece ace #portgas d. ace #fire fist ace #ace x reader #fire fist ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #one piece #fluff #portgas d ace #Marine!Ace #swap au

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