#Like imagine if the Claims Adjuster was black. Nothing else changes he's just black

[kushamisaru]

Been seeing way less people talk about shit republicans are doing in their quest to demonize democrats (shut up for five minutes, this post ain't about them and I already know why you're mad at them, I am too). And I don't think people are taking the fact that republicans will have majority in EVERY branch of government seriously come January 2025. Anything that gets passed has to go through them, whether democrats help or not. So maybe try remembering you have two feet to step on two necks. Just some food for thought.

[lanadelnegan]

Sober Enough

S7 Negan x Assistant

Summary: After 2 years of being Negan’s assistant and remaining professional, one night of playing pool together in the Sanctuary's lounge changes everything. Warnings: 18+, smut, extreme dry humping, c*m licking (lots of it), angst, negan being sweet, very slight daddy kink

“You’re insufferable. You know that?” I glare at Negan from across the pool table.

His chest rises and falls with a laugh as he leans over the table, adjusting his stance. “So I’ve been told, doll.” He smirks before sinking the striped ball into the pocket.

“I mean, seriously. Who needs multiple wives?”

He strides around to my side of the table, plucking his beer from the bar behind me and taking a generous gulp.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re jealous.” His gaze drags over me, igniting a heat within me I’ve kept hidden for two years—ever since I became his assistant, or right-hand woman, as he calls it.

I laugh, trying to shake off the warmth spreading through me. “Do you hear yourself, Negan? I think you’re drunk.”

I lean over to line up my shot, but my balance falters, and I tumble into him. His arms wrap around my waist from behind, steadying me. The scent of his leather jacket and woodsy cologne envelops me and I breathe him in.

He leans closer, his breath warm against my ear. “I’m sober enough to catch you.”

Something about his tone and the way his arms are still clinging to me has my heart beating out of my chest. His lips skim across my neck and I smell his minty breath laced with beer, a reminder that this is probably just the alcohol talking.

If I were sober enough myself, I’d plunge out of his arms and call it a night. But my heart is tired of pretending I’m not head over heels in love with this man and have been for a while.

I turn around in his arms, my chest now pressing against his as I look up at him. “What else are you sober enough to do?” My hands roam teasingly along his chest, coming across much more confident than what I’m feeling on the inside.

His slightly glazed-over eyes dart back and forth between mine. He looks like he’s battling himself on the inside right now and I wish I knew what he was thinking. Before I can ask, he leans down and presses his lips to mine, tilting my chin up to gain better access as he deepens the kiss.

I let out a whimper that makes him growl in return, and he turns my back to the pool table, setting me on it like I weigh nothing. My legs wrap around his waist and he holds them there, his rough hands gripping the back of my bare thighs.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me? Walking around here all day in these pretty little dresses, begging for my attention?”

I don’t bother arguing with him. Mostly because he’s right.

His hand closes around my neck gently, claiming me as his. When I let out another whimper, he continues. “That’s what you want, right? My attention?”

He stands between my legs and I don’t know where to put my hands, so I rest them behind me on the pool table as I look up at him.

“That’s why you asked to be my assistant, isn’t it? So you could follow me around all day.” He chuckles, his rough voice growing deeper with each word.

“Answer me.”

“Y-yes.” I say, my heart pulsing.

“Yes, what?” He bites out impatiently.

“Yes sir.”

"Atta girl." He lets go of my neck, his hand gliding down to my exposed thigh, where my dress has been hiked up, almost exposing my damp center.

“Well, you have my full and undivided attention sweetheart. What are you gonna do with it?”

Feeling a surge of confidence, I lean forward, my fingers reaching for the noticeable bulge in his black jeans. His eyes darken as he closely observes my face, allowing me to explore him. I trace my fingers along his lengthy shaft, feeling the ridges beneath and imagining how incredible it would feel to have him inside me.

“I - I wanna see it.” I say, unbothered with how desperate I sound. I’ve imagined what it looks like since the day I met him and he bragged about how big he was. Most men would only brag if they felt the need to compensate for something, but I knew that was never the case with Negan.

And now that I’m feeling him, I know for sure he wasn’t lying. He’s big. Bigger than anything I’ve felt before.

He lets out a low chuckle, carefully removing my hand from his pants and placing it back on the pool table. He then holds my hands down on either side of me, leaning in close to my ear. "Such a desperate little slut, who would've guessed?" he whispers, a hint of amusement in his voice. "You had me fooled with your sweet innocent act, doll."

I wrap my legs tighter around him, needing to feel some sort of friction, even if it’s through his jeans.

"Fuck," he exhales as I begin to grind against him, the sensation making me bite down on my lower lip. His hands return to my thighs, guiding my movements as he gazes down between us. His eyes are fixated on the way our bodies connect through our clothes.

I watch his expression, getting off even more on how his brows knit together and his mouth hangs open slightly. He always looks good, but never as good as right now, with my wet pussy soaking his jeans.

“Negan, fuck, it feels so good.” I cry out, wrapping my hands around his shoulders to steady myself.

His mouth falls to my neck, as he groans with each of my movements, his sounds fueling me to ride him faster. I lift my ass off the table for a better angle and he grips my ass underneath my dress, driving me into him over and over.

“Shit… fuck darlin’, if you don’t stop, I’m- fuck, I don’t want to come yet.”

I pull back, leaning my hands back on the table and riding him slower. I can feel the heat radiating off my cheeks as I stare at him, both of us on the edge and ready to blow any second.

“Baby.. You’re so fucking perfect, have I ever told you that?”

I blush harder at his words, not expecting him to say something so sweet.

“I mean it, y/n. You have no idea how many nights I’ve fucked my fist thinking of you.”

I exhale, speechless as we stare at each other and he rocks his hips into me, taking the lead this time.

His quick, rough thrusts cause my tit to fall out of my dress and his eyes lock on it instantly before he bites his lower lip.

"Fucking perfect." He shakes his head subtly before diving forward and taking it into his mouth, sucking gently on my hard nipple.

I cry out, knowing that’s all it will take to push me over the edge.

“Fuck, fuck, Negan, I’m-“

I don’t finish my sentence before tears run down my cheeks, the feeling overwhelming me like no other orgasm I’ve had before. And this is just with his clothes on.

He gazes down at me, a hint of pride etched on his features as he rocks his hips into me.

“That’s it baby, that’s it. Give it to me.”

I start to come down from the high, softly moaning before my lips find his neck and suck on his flesh. He groans in my ear and I know he’s holding back his own orgasm.

“Negan, stop holding back. I want to you to come.”

I pull back slightly, locking eyes with him and I can see his pained expression like he doesn’t want to blow in his pants like someone horny teenaged boy. Taking back control, I grind my hips against his shaft in a circular motion.

“Baby…” he whines.

“Please.. daddy.” I say sweetly, blinking up at him.

“Fuck.” He growls, dropping his forehead to mine as my hips work faster.

“I can’t hold it, sweetheart. Fuck, I -“

He buries his face in my neck, letting out the most animalistic groans I’ve ever heard a man make.

I firmly hold myself against him, feeling him pulse over and over. Knowing that his warm cum is filling his underwear makes me want to get on my knees and lick every last drop.

As if he read my mind, he stands back, unzipping his pants and keeping his gaze locked on me. “On your knees.”

“I-but, you already-“

“Do not make me have to ask twice.” He snaps impatiently.

I drop to my knees hesitantly, gazing up at him while waiting for his instructions. With a proud grin, he pulls his underwear down to his knees.

My eyes widen at the sight of his cock covered in his cum. Even soft, it’s insanely impressive and thick. I reach out to grab it but he knocks my hand away.

With his thumb, he pulls down my lower lip, tracing the pad of it over my tongue. “Open that pretty mouth and clean up the mess you made.”

Taking one last glance at his handsome face, I lean in and lick my tongue along his shaft, instantly moaning at the taste.

“Look at you.” He praises, gliding a hand through my hair. “Such a good girl.”

After a few moments, he pulls away, buckling himself back up. “Fuck.” He lets out a long sigh. “I’m sorry.” He helps me to my feet, but immediately backs away again, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

“Oh, okay... I get it.” I laugh annoyed. “You’re sober now and coming to your senses?

“No, that’s not, fuck, that’s not it. I-“

“Don’t worry, I got it. I’ll see myself out.”

“Y/n…” He says, making no effort to move towards me, which just makes me want to leave the room that much faster.

How stupid was I to think he was actually into me? God, how embarrassing.

I fling the door open to leave when his large palm wraps around my arm, turning me to face him.

“Goddamn it, listen to me.”

“Fuck off, Negan. Next time you get drunk and horny, use one of your wives to get off, not me.”

I try to wiggle out of his grasp but his large frame presses me against the door.

“I wasn’t drunk, y/n. Fuck, I wasn’t even buzzed. I had one beer. And if I wanted to simply use you and get off I would have fucked that pretty pussy without clothes in the way.”

My cheeks heat under his serious gaze. “So why didn’t you?”

“Well, before you tried to run off, I was going to tell you that I’m fucking crazy about you. And have been since day one. Not sure how it wasn’t obvious, doll.”

“Then why did you apologize?”

He slides a hand over my jaw, cupping my face. “Because I didn’t want to tell you like this. I wanted our first kiss to be… hell, romantic.” He rolls his eyes playfully before his serious gaze returns.

“What about your wives?”

“Sweetheart. I haven’t touched any of them since I laid eyes on you.” His pleading hazel eyes bounce back and forth between yours.

“I-I don’t believe you.”

“Then I’ll prove it to you.” He picks me up, carrying me me over to the black leather couch in the middle of the lounge. “But first? We’re going to finish what we started.”

Tag list <3

@loganlostitall @chaospossum @negansbabydoll66 @redqueenphoenix @n3g5nx @crustyweirdo @youngpersonaathletebear @sadgirlzluvdilfs @ilovebill-and-gustav @neganscumbucket @manipulatorpoem @im-a-goddamn-cat @raininhell @mahogany-cherry-wine @daryldixmedown @munsonslovergirl @sanctuaryforthelost @thelauraborealis @carlgrimesbbg @c3linesworld @blueheisenbergtragedy @startwinklekitty @darlingmadelinee @oceandeepthirst @jschlattsqtip @lavenderchai @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @neganswoman @n7crophiliac @cats-writing @alldevilsarehere90 @natykacenka @queermilfs @stasiaangelsinner @lupa-03 @sadgirlzluvdilfs @pamago-bb @javier-penas-wifexx420 @motelprincess444 @thatonefroggirl @myhappyplaceofstuff @darlingmadelinee @used2beee @easystreet07 @princess-23-xoxo @twdxtrevor

[carolinemillerbooks]

New Post has been published on Books by Caroline Miller

New Post has been published on https://www.booksbycarolinemiller.com/musings/all-ye-need-to-know/

All Ye Need To Know

Retired scientist Ronald Mallett continues to work on the possibility of time travel.   Like Albert Einstein, he believes time and space are interconnected. That’s why he is tinkering with technology that will allow him to bend time as if it were in a black hole. Despite this seemingly hopeless pursuit, he invites us to imagine the possibilities that could occur if he succeeds.  Covid-19 could have been stopped in its tracks if we’d been able to carry a vaccine into the past.   Mallett says nothing about negative consequences that could arise when we fiddle with history. An ill-fated adjustment might recreate the Mesozoic Era. True, some people make a habit of looking backward. Mississippi’s legislature is nostalgic enough to resurrect the separate but equal Jim Crow laws of the 1800s.  Unfortunately, in their bid to defend state rights, they forgot about human ones.   Knowing little of ourselves, substituting the past for the present takes us into a tulgey wood of thorns and bogs. Writers from William Saroyan to Honoré de Balzac see our misadventure as the Human Comedy. By the phrase, they mean that ignorance gives birth to countless absurdities. These literary giants have spent many a candle-lit night in pursuit of them. The result has been an endless series of written comedies and tragedies. If vanity could learn from genius, we might survive…perhaps even grow wise from the exposure.  But imagination isn’t the sole purview of brilliance.  Lesser minds employ it, roo.  How else could QAnon exist? Belief is awkward to confront because it is impervious to evidence. If I prefer strawberry ice cream to pistachio, the question of accuracy doesn’t apply. Ambiguity, of course, is part of the human condition.  Quantum physics informs us that truth is relative. Reality lies at the intersection of matter and the observer. Any ignorance we carry en route alters what we perceive. Just as a black hole bends time and space, so black holes of the mind bend reality.      Lauren Boubert, a Republican member of Congress, provides an example. She has submitted a tax proposal to Congress based on her notion of geography. Since her knowledge of our country is limited to the continental United States, she leaves out Alaska and Hawaii. If her bill succeeds, these two states would have to fend for themselves. Or, they could form a separate but equal union which Mississippi might envy. Equally unburdened by evidence, a drag queen astounded 11-year-olds at an elementary school with the announcement that many genders exist. Seventy-three to be precise. With a little imagination, more be possible. The number has been growing. President Barrack Obama created the opportunity for these endless possibilities. Executive Order 13672 was his attempt to end lifestyle discrimination at the federal level.  The impression the document left was that gender was a state of mind. A Facebook friend warned I was dipping my toe into troubled waters when I wrote a blog about Executive Order 13572. But how could I ignore it? I’m an  English teacher. When I hear plural pronouns used in the singular, I bristle. Yet as an English teacher, I also know that language changes. The MLA Style Center, that arbiter of modern usage, already prods me in the direction of a new “they.”…Jules is writing their research paper on Jane Austen’s Persuasion;  Ari read the instructions to themselves [or themself] before beginning the test. Unfortunately, no one has alerted Grammarly about the change. K. Rowling stumbled into the gender crisis without the benefit of a friendly warning.  Not one to mock different lifestyles, she uttered remarks meant to defend women’s rights. But, we all know where the road of good intentions leads. Harpies soon descended and claiming the high ground, they called for a boycott of her latest video game, though it, like many of her enterprises, provides the lifeblood of numerous charities. J. K. Rowling needn’t have worried.  Isle Bryson made her point for her. Faced with an 8-year jail sentence, “they” claimed to be a transgender female, and at “they’s” request, “they” was sent to a woman’s prison. No sooner had “they” donned a uniform of one shade of gray, than “they” proceeded to rape two fellow inmates. Rowling’s video game, as it happens, suffered no similar harm.  Hogwart’s Legacy game enjoyed record sales. In this Barnum and Bailey world, a little humility doesn’t go amiss.  As homo sapiens, we are no more in control of our lives or the environment than earth’s smallest creatures.  We may shrug with indifference at an ant war unfolding beneath our feet, yet we fail to consider that Nature may take the same view of us and our endless wars.  Like Lauren Boubart, Nature shows a wanton ignorance of geography. We’d do better to ponder our place in the universe than spend time making up rules that discriminate.  If a child born as a girl wants to be a boy,  I doubt the moon will fall out of the sky for that ambition. If we are honest, controlling someone’s inner life is more difficult than controlling the outer one. How can we take charge of anything when we are blind to events that will occur over the next 30 seconds?  Some of us avoid the terror of a random cosmos by placing our faith in a god or gods.  I, too, feel the impulse. Nonetheless, when studies show that prayer is no more successful than a coin toss, I’m disinclined to take a leap of faith. Should I be wrong in my irreligious leanings and one day find myself in the presence of a celestial being, I’m certain to be struck with another conundrum. Shall I refer to this deity as “he,” “she,” or “they”? 

[youlackconviction]

SCREENRANT ARE BACK ON THEIR BULLSHIT

warning - the following nonsense might cause psychological injury or confusion as your brains struggle to reconcile this utter claptrap with what they already know to be canon fact about the thor/LOKI franchise:

article source: https://screenrant.com/loki-thor-dark-world-death-survive-illusion-explained/

the article title is speculative clickbait, pure and simple. marvel has made no new statement about LOKI's survived deaths (not the same thing as a trick, by the way) in either original film to contradict what has already been established in canon AND confirmed in many press statements by directors, writers, kevin feige himself i believe and of course tom hiddleston himself as well, at the time the original films were screened.

this nonsense has no more substance than the prevailing fan theory when infinity war was released that LOKI wasn’t killed by thanos at all but escaped and hid himself from thor, which abounded at the time that installment was screening in cinemas. all kinds of claims tossed about that there was some flicker or shadow outside the statesman that "proved" LOKI had got away... no doubt fuelled by disappointment at the loss of his character AND rage at how stupidly and pointlessly he’d been killed off. *glaring at you, russo bros*.

that same fan theory was retroactively used in the LOKI series by classic LOKI, to explain how he survived facing thanos - but we know that he was a variant of the LOKI we saw die for his brother in IW, not the same person. that was richard grant’s LOKI. so it still changes nothing about tom hiddleston’s LOKI, who we’ve all been watching for the past eleven years. he actually did die, so it’s completely irrelevant.

marvel confirmed LOKI attempted suicide at the end of thor 2011, and, that instead of dying in the void he ended up in “some of the worst places of the universe”, and “the people he met were not kind”. tom hiddleston likened his probable experience to being kidnapped by a terrorist cell:

“I think he went, like with everything else, to a sort of... it was just like, the worst place imaginable. I think he went to all of the darkest recesses of the universe. I’m sure he had a brush with—several brushes with death. I think he ran into the shadiest characters you can find in the Nine Realms. I think he had to rely on his wits to protect himself. It was really, really, really unpleasant, I think. I don’t have any frame of reference for that, except for imagining what it might be like to be kidnapped by a terrorist or something and have to survive a very, very frightening and precarious existence. But whatever it was, it was important when Loki came back for The Avengers, that whatever compassion he had left was absolutely shriveled to a minimum because of the experience that he had. Harrowing, I think, and scarring for life—in a way that Thor and Odin and Frigga find very, very difficult to understand.”

src: Let's Talk Loki Popcorn Taxi Q&A With Tom Hiddleston (thanks to @nikkoliferous​ for researching this quote)

but sure screenrant, tell me again how LOKI did any of that on purpose? how he chose to fall into the clutches of the black order, that he intended all along not only to prolong an existence that had become emotionally intolerable for him but make it a thousand times more terrifying and painful?

the branches and roots of yggdrasil ONLY extend across the nine realms, like that’s the whole point of that piece of mythology. and LOKI telling thor in avengers that he'd been to worlds thor had never dreamed of indicates that they were far beyond asgard’s domains. remember the convergence, anyone? the whole plot of thor the dark world?

as for LOKI “faking” his death (honestly fuck off with that bullshit) in 2013, again, marvel confirmed the scene was filmed as a real final death, and because of test-audience negative responses to LOKI’s death, adjusted to a severe but survivable injury when the additional scenes were shot. an injury that not only fooled thor and jane but LOKI himself - and imagine how he must have felt when he woke up alone after suffering so much for his brother. there was no hint of it being an illusion or a disposable body double at the time.

the illusion came at the point that LOKI assumed the appearance of an einherjar and took the abandoned skiff back to asgard to report to odin, depose him and reclaim the throne - a much better alternative than being returned to the prison cell for 4,000 years. the same throne incidentally that LOKI offered to his brother at the end of that film, but was refused by him. “LOKI for all his grave imbalance understood rule as i never shall” were thor’s words as he walked away from his birthright and his responsibilities.

“Loki's death on Svartalfheim was written as a death, and I would say Chris and I played that scene for real. That was meant to be that he redeemed himself, he helped save his brother, he helped save Jane Foster but that he, in the process, sacrificed himself.“

src: tom hiddleston for Empire magazine

in actuality, the series script addresses none of this, and the article is reaching at best - and blatantly bullshitting at worst. screenrant is not a legitimate source of verified information, this is just one article-writer’s fan-theory and unfortunately for clarity’s sake, it’s completely wrong on so many levels.

[genderfluid-insomniac]

"Let us praise you" ~ Sinbad x reader x Ja'far

words: 3.1k

Well, it really was your fault that you were in this situation and you couldn’t do anything to change it. You knew you were tied up to what you guessed was a chair, a blindfold being wrapped around your eyes, and it wasn’t long before you heard a door open. Footsteps echoed around your chair and wind swirled around the room, brushing your cheeks.

Sitting with your thoughts, it feels like minutes had passed and you continued to helplessly wait for something to happen. You felt a hand grazed your lips and move to your shoulder slipping the scarf off your shoulders, kissing your collar bones.

You were only in a sheer robe because you were headed off to sleep before you were grabbed, pulled into your room, and blindfolded. Then tied to a chair before you could say anything, but you didn’t panic because you were still in the palace and had faith that Sin or Ja'far would notice your absence and rescue you if need be.

You feel the rope around you drop slightly but tighten in certain places, a gasp escaping from you. The pair of footsteps stopped right before you and you felt two hands cup your face, “Hm, it really is a shame how little you think of yourself. Don’t you think so, Ja'far?”, Your breath hitched and thoughts ceased to a halt as you realized how fucked you were. You feel the hem of the blindfold being toyed with between Sin’s fingers.

“Yes, Sin. It truly disappoints me, Y/N, that you doubt yourself and how put others before yourself. You know that you mean the world to us, right?” The blindfold was cut away and fell onto your lap, adjusting to the change in lighting.

Before you stood the king of Sindria crouched in between your legs and his right hand Ja'far on your side cupping your face, a smirk both adorning their faces.

There were so many words coming to mind but they all failed to reach your throat, all that came out were stutters. Sinbad cooed at you and tilted his head, running his hands over your thighs, “Come now, not going to say anything. Well then let us try and tempt you~” Sin gave a look to Ja'far who nodded and the ropes around your arms were cut.

His arms taking yours gently, placing soft kisses along your forearm, eyes locked with you the entire time. Jet black eyes lidded while you feel his warm breath on your wrist as he takes both of your arms in his grasp, still planting kisses on every part of your arms.

Taking every precious second to admire every part of your arms and hands, worshipping you as if it the first time they saw you again. It suddenly feels hotter than it did before and you go to fight his hold but Ja'far captures your lips in his.

Your muscles relax as you kiss him back allowing everything to happen. You trust them and you know they would never hurt you. Breaking the kiss reluctantly, you turn to them and smile, eyes starting to fill with lust and adoration, “Okay, I know I can’t fight you two on this because both of you love me as much as I love you. Guess I didn’t hide it that well, huh?”

Laughing, they both grin widely eyes matching yours and running their hands over your body, “Of course, we’ve seen how you cover yourself a lot more and tend to avoid receiving compliments from us,” Your lovers were right and you had very self-deprecating thoughts about yourself. I mean it was hard not to when both of your partners were so stunningly gorgeous.“It hurts both of us that you can’t see you the way we do, so we came up with an idea.”

Sin moved some of the smooth fabric from your legs so that they were uncovered, his hands ghosting over your knees to your thighs and squeezing them as he went closer to your hips.

Blushing intensely as you could only look into those bright orange eyes, continuing to caress and kiss every part of your thighs, “You know how much I adore these thighs? They’re so big and luscious, the perfect pillows we could ever ask for and the best part is that they’re all mine. All the imperfect marks or small scars show how much you have fought and how strong you are.”

Sin never ceasing his barrage of attacks, untieing your ankled and pulling you closer to him on the edge of your chair. “Now, let us prove to you how much we love you, darling~” Chills run down your back noticing how Sin kissed both of your inner thighs, biting and sucking bit of skins making you let out some whimpers.

Your head was tilted to the side to see Ja'far smirking and moving down to kiss your neck, letting his tongue let slip out onto certain places. Everything felt so hot and blurry as your lover’s attention never left you.

Sin got close to your hip and brushed some cloth back, nipping at the skin underneath and sucking till a bruise was sure to form. You tried your best to bite your tongue and not let any noises slip, but that was not was either of them wanted,

“Baby, you heard Sin, now why are holding that sweet voice of your back?” Simultaneously, Ja'far ran his tongue over your jawline and moved his hands along your body, memorizing all of the curves and nibbling your bottom lip in between his. Letting it go to peck your cheek, “Sing us a song with those beautiful cries of pleasure~”

Allowing all your whimpers and moans to leave your mouth, relaxing back into the chair. “Such a good Y/N. Just allow us to give you the love you deserve.”

Whispering praises as Sin lifted your legs over his shoulder and kept attacking your inner thighs rubbing circles on the sides of your hips. The cool night air roaming over all three of you and sending shivers across your body only to be met with a wonderful burning sensation wherever they touched.

Your robe feeling like a feather suddenly and seemed to disappear, not caring if it was still on your person. “Mhm, I can’t imagine a life without you. How painful and dull that would be. Not being able to kiss those soft lips of yours and gaze into those stunning eyes, forever falling into the trap you lured us into.”

Fingers running over your chest as you passionately kissed your white-haired lover, your arms not around his neck. Ja'far deepened the kiss as he licked your bottom lip, letting his tongue in and claiming your mouth.

You tilted your head and moaned from the attention you were getting, breaking apart only when you had to breathe again, “ It should be me that’s saying that. How did I get so lucky to have you both? Never feeling afraid or fearful that you’d ever harm me or be unloyal, I mean I’m nothing when compared to two,” Ja'far and Sin moved away from where they were, staring at you while hands wrapped around your hips and chest.

Soft kisses being placed on your stomach and upper back where your robe had been lowered. Ja'far clicked his tongue as his lips grazed your ear,

“Why would say something false, Y/N? We’re the lucky ones. I thought I would never have this chance to be with you but I do and what’s even better is that I have someone else to worship you as well. That sweet perfect body of yours, that fierce strength when you stand for what’s right, those brilliant eyes full of love, and of course how you never stop loving us.”

Ja'far gripped your chin gently as he turned your head to his and kissed you lovingly and enjoyed every second of it. Pulling away to peck your nose and feeling more kisses being given to your hips and abdomen.

Letting some moans slip as Sin licked a line from your hip to your waist, moving his tongue to just under your clothed breasts. He hummed at the noises you made as he shifted his face to look at the beautiful expression you were making,

“Those colorful eyes of yours lighting up whenever you talk about something you passionate about. How you dance when no one’s around, twirling your body back and forth. Feeling the music as it carries you and shows off all of your curves, every beautiful part of your body.”

As Sin spoke, his hands wandered from your waist to your hips, groping certain spots to get a reaction out of you. Continuing his relentless kisses and bites on your thighs, his violet hair brushing against your leg as he cooed at your responses.

Ja'far kissing and biting your jaw to your collar bones, never missing a spot as he left kisses all over your neck and causing lustful whimpers to escape from his tongue running over areas that had started to bruise. It seems like hours that everything had happened but it all ceased, allowing you to catch your breath and close your eyes to focus on calming your heart that was pounding from your lovers.

The violet-haired royal moved back to lift you up and cradle you in his arms, your head resting against Sin’s broad chest. Hearing him laugh and you practically fell limp in his arms from all the energy that had left you, nuzzling the back of your neck with his nose,

“Come, let’s get some rest for now.” Squinting at the light that flooded through the door Ja'far opened and adjusting to the brightness of the main hall, moaning at the beaming light coming from the lanterns along the walls. He laughed,

“I’m sorry dear but you’re just too cute when you’re tired. Curling up against Sinbad trying to hide away from the light, it’s too adorable.” All three of you made it to your shared room, Sin draped you on the bed and got in with you, both of your lovers holding you between them and kissing the back of your neck and forehead before they whispered in your ear,

“Get some rest, my love,” “Because tonight is just the beginning~”.

Stirring, you shifted in the silk duvet that covered you and felt groggy, opening your tired eyes and dragging your arm over your face to shield it from the bright sunlight peaking in. The rays showed through at lit up the bedroom and gradually your eyes adjusted to the room, memories of the previous night coming back and your face getting slightly flushed.

Sighing contently at how wonderful it was, even if it was only for a short time, you loved every second of it and how luxurious the attention that you were given felt. What did you do to deserve such loving and devoted partners? Speaking of your lovers, you felt very sensitive and still in a dream-like state, but you were certain that you were awake.

A wave of pleasure hit you, your arms gave out from under you and you hit the soft big pillows behind you, your body temperature rising and now wanting the covers off. Another wave of pleasure hit you and you let a quiet moan slip, craning your head back.

Feeling a high swarm your mind and body, your hips involuntarily rolling with the attention you were getting. You came down from your climax, your breathing evening out as you lidded your eyes in the pure pleasure you just felt. Releasing the sheets that your hands had clutched moments before and squinting to catch sight of what or who did that to you.

“Morning, my darling. Sleep well?” A raspy deep voice called out and you looked over to where you guessed your lover would be. There sat Sinbad, curled up under the covers in between your legs with a smirk, eyes overflowing with lust and arrogance.

You nodded faintly, still unsure of what was going on but you had no complaints against it. “Mhm, yes, I did. What did I do to deserve this surprise, Sin?” He laughed softly and went down, licking a stripe up to your abdomen. “Just being you is enough. I know we talked about this and it seemed like the perfect moment to try it.”

The king moved up from in between your thighs, arousal glistening around his mouth, and crawled on top of you. His silky violet hair messily falling from his shoulders next to him as his warm body trapped yours, not that you were complaining. You hummed in response and leaned up to kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips.

Passionately kissing Sin and reaching a hand to cup his face, weaving your other arm through his hair and pulling some strange. He groaned slightly at the tugging and tilted his head to deepen the kiss, Sin’s moans being swallowed by you. You felt him part for air and you rubbed circles on his cheeks, gazing at the golden orange of his eyes

“Sin, I love you so much and can’t imagine my life without you. You make me feel complete and so loved every second of each day.”

Nuzzling his nose with yours and giving a small smile,” Y/N, I love you too and I will protect you from harm until the day I die. Nothing will separate us and stop our love for each other. I adore the way your cheeks light up when I tease you and how with just a few words you’ve completely fallen for me again.”

He smirked and kissed you once more, letting the sheer gold-tinted fabric slide off his shoulders. You heard the door to your room open and let out a noise in surprise, covering yourself with the blankets around you, seeing the white-haired right hand walk in. Ja’far’s ivory sheer robe swaying from the breeze, emerald green bordering the edges of it and highlighting his sculpted muscles beneath.

He smiled and glanced at your embarrassing form, “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything but I figured that you would still be asleep. It seems like I missed out on some fun though huh, Sin?”

Ja’far walked over to your nest of blankets or pillows, getting under the covers, and hugged your waist, giving soft kisses to your neck. “You didn’t miss too much. I was gifting our darling some love after the initial treatment that we gave them last night. You’re welcome to join in because I’m sure that Y/N would enjoy more attention. What do you think, love?”

A crimson blush spread across your face as you registered what Sinbad said. “I-I would enjoy that very much, Ja’far. Please~” You leaned toward him and captured his lips with yours, dragging him down into the bed on top of you.

He moaned and you tangled your fingers in his hair and licked his bottom lip, caressing his tongue with yours.

Jet black eyes gazed into yours as you broke apart, “I believe it’s my turn to taste the main course and by Sin’s reaction, I’m sure it’s delicious. Time for breakfast~” Ja’far moved to between your legs as Sin switched positions, cupping your face and placing gentle kisses on your jaw.

Thinking you could relax and bathe in the warmth, you felt someone flick the outside of your clit. Sucking on your labia and hummed, sending vibrations throughout your body.

You let out loud mewls and squirmed as both Sin and Ja’far pleasured you from all angles. As much your body seemed to protest, you were living for all of it and never wanted them to stop.

You felt as if you were on cloud nine with Sin kissing your lips and neck, finding your sweet spots, and giving you lovebites. Ja’far kept sucking and licking your outer lips, biting your bud and swirling his tongue around it.

Arching your back as Sin found a spot on your neck that was very sensitive and he abused it over and over, licking over the flushed bits of skin that had been bitten. His hands roaming over your body, trailing your waist and hips, groping your ass, and coming back up to roll your nipples back and forth between his fingers.

Sin massaged your breasts and pulled at your tits causing you to arch your back while Ja’far plunging his tongue into your clit and touching the rough walls of your pussy.

The moans you made fueled them on and you didn’t get a moment to think or process your second orgasm falling over you as your body spasmed. Your legs shook as pleasure racked your body and overstimulation became too much when he never stopped licking and taking in all your cum, making sure he didn’t waste a drop.

Lifting his head and using his fingers to collect some cum escaping from your clit, wetting the sheets below you. Ja’far showed your juices drip down his fingers and one by one put them into this mouth to savor the flavor, humming contently, “I was right, you taste simply divine and I can’t get enough of you but I’ll save some energy for later. Until then,”

Ja’far moved to your opposite side and kissed you, playing with the other nipple while Sin occupied the other and left hickeys on your neck. You separated from your black-eyed lover for air and speak, “I wouldn’t mind waking up like this every morning and receiving this much attention.

“ They both laughed and starred at you lovingly, “In all seriousness though, I promise to try and not doubt myself anymore. As hard as it might be I know I will have the both of you here with me all the way and I will try to love myself more.”

With that, both of them hugged you and buried their head into your neck, Sin speaking up. “All of you? Every part?” You wrapped both of your arms around their waists and smiled brightly, “Every part.” Leaning down to kiss Sinbad’s nose and treating Ja’far the same since they had done so much for you.

There was an unspoken energy between you all as you basked in the afterglow of pleasure and love you shared.

[viltrumitesuperboy]

Babysitting Job (Peter Parker x Natasha’s Brother Reader)

Sorry for any errors within the plot. I wrote this over the course of two weeks. Reader’s powers not mentioned much.

Requested by: anon Could I possibly request a Peter Parker x Male Reader, where the reader is Black Widow's younger brother and has trained in martial arts and gymnastics and the like, but also has the ability of animal shape-shifting? Maybe all the avengers meet him for the first time when Black Widow finally gets him to live with her and Peter gains a pretty big crush on him?

Word count: 3352

You trained under your older adoptive sister for years. Natasha found out that you had been born with the ability to shift into animals. She brought you to her workplace where you would be treated as a person and not as a weapon like she had. You never stayed with her after you'd trained for a few years, leaving America to take other jobs. Every once in a while she'd check up on you, asking if you needed anything or if you could help her find some information. Even miles away, she still acted like your older sister and was just as protective.

Eventually you decided to finish your education in America, staying with Natasha at the Avengers Tower. She had an entire floor to herself, but rarely used most of it. She was a minimalist to an extent. She made sure you were settled before going to her briefing late, assuring you that she wouldn't get in trouble. If anything, you were sure that she'd scold them for starting without her.

You spent the first few nights extremely uncomfortable in the new place. You had never needed to stay somewhere for a long time, and even if it had only been a few days, you knew you'd be there for a while.

After a week, you were roaming about the R&D floors and bumped into someone.

"Oh, you," Tony Stark said.

"Who do you think I am?" you asked warily.

"Natasha's kid brother, right? With the powers? Listen, I have something for you."

"Uh..."

"Here. Have you seen this?"

He pulled out his StarkPad. You watched the video he pulled up, not wanting to interrupt someone who seemed like he was always in a rush. It was a boy with a lean figure, dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants along with a mask covering his entire head. You silently applauded him for being a beginner vigilante who wore something practical considering he probably couldn't afford body armour.

"This is Spider-kid. Well, Spider-Man. But he's young, and I want to keep an eye on him. You mind helping me out? Of course, I wouldn't tell you his identity without his consent, but he agreed that he'd be fine with me giving him protection after..." he trailed off, gesturing vaguely with his hand as if you knew what he was talking about. "Anyway, you feel up to going to high school? You're young. You'll probably fit right in."

"Mr. Stark, I have no social skills. I assure you, putting me in a high school considering my powers and training is likely a danger to my mental stability and their physical well-being. I'm not going to babysit someone for you."

Tony's features seemed to soften a bit. He looked less like he was in a rush as much as he normally did. It was something he reserved for the people he cared most about.

"Look, I get it. People are hard to talk to. And I'm not saying this as Tony Stark, owner of a large company. I'm saying this as the reason I'm Iron Man. You've seen all that through files from Nat, right?" He awaited your confirmation, and you nodded. "Good. All you need to do is just be with Peter. And I'm sure you qualify to work for S.H.I.E.L.D. This can just be a mission and they'd be glad to know that my- uh, the kid is being managed by someone they can trust because at least they know Nat. It doesn't have to be anything else, not even a favour for me. Just a job."

You thought about it for a moment, then asked to see more of the videos. Stark held out the device for both of you to see and swiping through a few. You both stood there in the sunlit hallway for a while. He was barely trained and relied a lot on his powers. Maybe you could help him.

"I'll speak to Natasha today. I think I'll help you out, but talk to him first," you said finally.

"Great. By the way, I think he'd be a lot more comfortable if he knew that you were working with me," Stark said, just about to walk away. "He knows that someone will be sent to watch him, but he doesn't know who and he doesn't trust easily. He'd appreciate if you told him who you were right off the bat. Be careful."

"For him or for me?"

"Personally? For him. I think you can handle yourself."

He walked away, the device tucked under his arm as he made his way to one of the labs. It was obvious Stark cared for the boy, and you respected Stark for his efforts to make the world safer after what he'd gone through. If this was a job, this was one you'd take very seriously.

———

Your powers meant you could shift into animals, but you could also just take the attributes of any animal you knew to exist. It was much easier than turning into a large wildcat in the middle of a city street. You'd taken the climbing abilities of a gecko, leaping from another building to climb up the tower. There was a bandana covering the lower half of your face, just so you couldn't be recognised by cameras. You had just started to open the window when a reflection on the window blocked the lights inside.

"Hey, uh, what are you up to?" Spider-Man asked.

You turned to look at him, adjusting your bandana.

"Nothing, just going home," you replied, opening the window.

"Oh! Do you live here?" he piped up.

"No, but it'll be my home once I break in."

"Uh..."

"I'm just kidding. You can come in if you want. I know Stark has a soft spot for you."

"Mr. Stark? Really? I mean, I try to text Happy all the time cause I really want to tell Mr. Stark stuff sometimes but I didn't really think he actually-"

"Hey! Get inside!" your sister shouted from the kitchen.

You quickly slipped in, Spider-Man following and shutting the window behind you.

"What have I told you about coming in from there?" Natasha glared sternly.

"That there's an elevator and I should use it like a respectable person."

"Exactly. Go change and then help me out with lunch. Hi, Spider-Man. You know where to go."

"Yeah, sorry, Ms. Romanov. I didn't know you had a friend coming over."

"He's my brother. Now hurry up. Pepper will have your head if you're late."

The conversation trailed off, likely followed with goodbyes, as you went to your room. Lunch led to a very serious conversation about joining the secret government agency along with your first job: keeping Spider-Man in check.

———

The flash drive you received had the worst possible photo of Peter Parker you could imagine. It was as if they couldn't get an actual photo of him. Considering the fact that he was an official intern here, you figured that they might be able to get something that didn't look like an unfortunate accident from Picture Day. Because in person, he looked... not as stupid.

Going back to a public school was strange. You hadn't gone since you were a child, the rest of your education mixed in with the martial arts training you had to take. There were so many people, but at least they were ignoring you for the most part. The main problem was finding out where the hell B104 was.

"Um, are you lost?"

A girl with curly hair and a sketchbook to her side had a locker open next to you. You glanced at her putting books away and taking things out before responding.

"Yeah, I don't know where this is?"

She looked at your schedule, nodding as she shut her locker.

"Yeah. That's the basement. There's one science class down there," she explained. "I'll go with you; I have something there, too."

You thanked her as you both walked through the crowded hallways. She occasionally nudged people aside, giving absolutely no shits to the people standing in the way. Natasha would like her. When you accidentally mentioned it in a quiet mumble, she laughed. She claimed that if she ever met Black Widow, "it'll be over for all you bitches." You didn't doubt it. You both went down a floor and she led you to the room.

"I have to go a bit further down, but..." she quickly pulled out a pen and wrote down your room numbers on her wrist. "I have some classes close to these, so I can bring you there for the first half of the day before lunch. I'll see you after class?"

"Uh, sure?"

"My name's Michelle."

"I'm (Y/N)."

She stuck her hand out in a way that you became extremely uncomfortable with, not used to shaking hands. She seemed to notice your hesitation then held it up for a high five. You gave a small smile of gratitude and gave her one.

"I'm sorry, that's so awkward. Um, if you stick with me, I'll teach you the secrets of this school. Okay, there aren't really any, but you really look like more of a loner than I do."

You nodded awkwardly in response and turned to walk into your class without another word.

Michelle had about three of her classes with you, and you shared 4 with Peter Parker, two of which were before lunch. She walked you to the table she usually sat at, a relaxed gait to talk to you comfortably.

"Everyone kind of adopts their own spot in the cafeteria at some point. Those tables are usually empty, and that's where I sit. I have a feeling you're going to be spending your time there too."

You spotted Peter, who waved at you. Confused, you waved back, then Michelle voiced an excited greeting. You put your hand down after pretending to scratch your head.

"This is Peter and Ned. They're in some of your classes."

"Oh, you're the kid who broke one of the beakers today, right? Man, that's so weird. How did you manage that?" Ned recalled.

You weren't about to tell him that you hadn't broken it at all. It was sitting on one of the heating plates and you were trying to put it away, but it fell as you'd tried to catch it with your sticky gecko hands. It didn't work.

"I have super strength," you deadpanned.

The three laughed, somehow. You hadn't interacted with such a close friend group like this ever. Peter was an awkward teen just like the others, and you wondered how difficult it must have been for him to adjust to his powers in the middle of his schooling. If anyone noticed you staring at him, they didn't mention it.

———

You did not tell Peter that he was just your job.

He was completely oblivious to your role in his life and laughably terrible at hiding his secret. You once caught him pick up an entire row of lockers with one hand in between classes. He picked up a bottle that looked like it held arsenic and placed the lockers back down. The sunlight streaming in from a nearby classroom's glass window made you realise that this boy had no regard for his surroundings. He was incredibly stupid. You really had to tell him soon.

He'd visited the tower a few more times, and you'd sometimes see him practice with your sister. She'd look up at you in the doorway of the training room and glare at you, as if telling you that she was doing your job. You walked away before he saw you every time. Instead, you followed him around when he was Spider-Man, choosing when you wanted him to know you were there and when you didn't. You'd learned that from Natasha. He'd tried to get your attention a few times, knowing you were there, but you slipped out of sight every time.

Michelle started to ask you to call her MJ. Ned showed you pictures of the Death Star he and Peter built together. It suffered destruction twice in the past, but it was perfect now and sitting on display in Ned's home. Peter offhandedly mentioned that Tony Stark wanted to display it at the tower. Ned was all for it, and you wanted to hit your head on a wall. Peter consistently confirmed his parent-child relationship with Stark without realising it. It was a bit infuriating for everyone else who could see it.

Peter had started to become more awkward around you. He'd been more comfortable over time, but one day he just started to get fidgety and stammered a lot. It only happened when he spoke to you. You were aware that you were probably one of the very few people that he felt any romantic attraction to, and he probably felt like you were his only option. Unsurprisingly, you felt the same way. It sucked having only a few friends.

At some point the secret had to come out. You were just standing in the kitchen, opening the fridge for the second time like it would suddenly become interesting, and jumped once you closed it.

"Oh my god, Peter," you huffed.

"(Y/N)? What are you doing here?"

Your eyes darted to Natasha for help. Peter followed your line of sight to her. She shrugged and hauled her duffel bag further up her shoulders.

"I have a mission. I'll only be gone less than a week. Get groceries."

The elevator arrived in seconds and she went up, likely to the helipad. You both stood there in silence for a moment.

"That's my sister," you admitted.

"Hold on, so you're telling me the person I met sticking to a window was you? The new, awkward kid at my high school?"

"You're awkward too."

Peter began too look a bit uncomfortable just standing in front of you in plain view, like he was suddenly aware of how open he was.

"You were the one following me around the city too. When I'm Spider-Man."

You nodded, gesturing to the living room so you could both take a seat. He was quiet as you went to your room, coming back out with the flash drive you had on him.

"Stark wanted someone to watch you, and he doesn't have many younger options. Then Nick Fury apparently wanted to keep an eye on you, so it all worked out. Natasha talked to him about having me join, and you were supposed to be my mission."

"Then why didn't you tell me? Are we... friends?"

"Yes!"

Peter looked away from you and looked out the window, the same one you both climbed into a while ago. He looked down at the flash drive, his teeth biting his bottom lip. You slowly sat down next to him, being sure to keep some distance away.

"I just didn't know how to tell you. Stark said that I would have been fine if you didn't know who exactly was watching you. I didn't expect to become your friend."

He put the flash drive in between the two of you, sliding it back over. You looked at it, your stomach doing turns knowing that you never would have hurt him if you said something earlier.

"My sister's been training you because I couldn't. I've learned a lot from her, but I've traveled more than she has. And I can adjust my powers to be more like yours. If you'd still want me around, I can teach you more."

Peter stood up, holding his hand out like he was going to shake your hand. You followed suit, holding your hand up for a high five. You both switched your hand positions, then settled for a fist bump that wasn't quite coordinated.

"I know we're both a bit awkward and we don't know how to talk to people normally, but I don't think I'd ever give you up. I'd like to be more than a mission to you."

"Like a friend?"

"Whatever you want."

———

It was easier to be with Peter in the tower. You realised how little you actually know about the building, and the next few days were spent with the both of you walking to the subway together and taking it to where you lived. He always brought you up to Stark's personal floor, to both his and Stark's labs, then to the R&D floors that you stopped exploring ever since your interaction with Tony Stark. He showed you what people were working on if they allowed you both in, and you'd watch him work on projects when he figured he'd procrastinated long enough. Sometimes MJ and Ned would tag along because apparently both you and Peter vouching for them was enough for security to let them through. Of course you had MJ meet your sister. It was a terrifying experience.

You spent weeks training Peter, watching him crawl up walls and do flips with more grace than you ever could and learning from him, but also taking him down much faster than he could ever take down anyone else. He was resilient but needed the training that both you and your sister provided. And even if your sister had been doing this longer than you had, you had abilities she didn't that could match and counter Spider-Man's.

Somehow Peter got even more awkward. He was clumsy, and was only lucky he didn't break things (or his own body parts) because of his powers. You didn't really want to tell him that you knew why. If you didn't have your own response to how he felt about you, he'd think that you were rejecting him. Though conflicted, MJ decided to make that decision for you.

"Ned, wanna come with me to see Ms. Romanov while she's training?" MJ asked, slinging her sweater over her shoulder.

"Uh, I don't really-"

"We have lovebirds to leave alone. Come on."

Ned looked a little torn, considering he had either the option of staying and not letting his two friends talk alone for once or leaving and being constantly terrified of a woman and a teenage girl for hours. You felt he made the worse choice, as he followed MJ. Fool.

"Did you just call Ned a fool?" Peter laughed.

You put your hand over your mouth, but laughed with him anyway. You were both sitting on the same sofa that led to Peter finding out that he was a part of your job. His hand reached yours, putting it on top of where they rested on your lap. He pulled it towards him and held it like romantic couples usually do, with fingers crossed together. It took some struggle because you both moved your hands the same way. Once again, you shared a laugh, though this one was more strained and uncomfortable.

"You like me, Peter," you said, not an ounce of doubt in your words. "I've known behaviour long enough to know. And I like you too, but I'm scared that it's because you're the first friend I've had that wasn't my sister."

"I was supposed to say it first," he pouted. "I had those two leave on purpose!"

You laughed and lightly squeezed his hand.

"I mean, what's life if we're not going to take risks?" he continued. "You decided to go to public school after years of not making friends, and I went on a school trip, got bitten by a spider, and decided not to tell anyone. If it doesn't work out, we can still be friends, right?"

"Nat would force me to stick around you as part of the job. Keeping you around as a friend is just a plus."

"Well, don't think that I'm letting you off the hook for telling me how you feel first. I'm holding you to this." Peter pointed a finger menacingly at you, which you pushed away.

"Sorry for stealing your thunder. And speaking of thunder, Thor's coming in a few hours. You wanna hide his food and blame it on Barton?"

"Hell yeah."

[kisskeiji]

7. Lottery.

Lost & Found.

WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol and smoking, like one mention of sex (i think) and atsumu being sentimental. 

  Winter was your favorite season. You would always stay in for the holidays and spend the winter break at home. Iwaizumi never understood why you enjoyed sleeping with nothing but your underwear  and a pair of fuzzy socks if you were going to sleep with three covers anyway, you loved the cold and everything that came with it. Your wardrobe was always full of sweaters and coats and your shared apartment was carefully decorated with things you collected over the years. 

Now they remained in the box where you left them the last christmas you spent with him, untouched, since he wasn’t one to celebrate especially now that he is spending the season by himself, refusing to go home with Hanamaki. He still missed you and he tried to do everything he could to get you out of his mind, he even worked on Christmas day but couldn’t stop thinking about you and how you would be wandering around the kitchen cooking dinner for your friends, but he ruined it. You weren’t with him and it was all his fault and he hated it. 

There was no one else to blame, but his pride and jealousy tried to blame you too, convincing himself it was your fault too for running away, for not facing him, for moving on before him. Ever since he called you that night and another guy answered the phone his chest tightened to the thought of you with another man. His friends tried to set him up with several women but he never caved in, he didn’t wanted to give himself another chance, he wanted you, and if he couldn’t have you then there was no other person for him, you were the one, and he knew that since you started dating but he gave in to his selfish needs. 

It was New Year’s Eve and his boss urged him to take a break. He had no other plans, he called his parents and texted his best friends wishing them a happy New Year because he was going to sleep early that night. Someone knocked on the door when he was on his way to the shower. Hanamaki and Matsukawa greeted him when he opened the door.

“At least act like you are glad to see us.” Matsukawa said.

“I thought you guys were in Miyagi.” 

“Yeah, but we knew you were going to mope around all day so we came to see you.” Hanamaki sat on the couch.

“Iwaizumi-san!” Kindaichi entered the apartment along with Kunimi and Watari. 

“You guys too?” He asked, hugging all of them, his mood slowly getting better.

“Yahaba and Kyotani are coming too.” Watari informed him before walking to the kitchen to drop the bags of takeout they all brought. “We thought a team reunion would pick you up.” 

“You didn’t have to, guys.” Iwaizumi took his laptop and a few papers that were on the coffee table to make some room. 

“But you need it.” Kunimi said with evident concern. Iwaizumi’s expression softened and his eyes watered, still wishing you were there but certainly not alone anymore, his friends still cared for him. 

“Don’t tell me you are crying!” Matsukawa teased him with an arm around his shoulders. 

“Of course not, you idiot, I’m just happy you are all here.” Everyone laughed at him, the ever so indifferent Iwaizumi almost crying was a rare sight, but warmth ran through everyone’s veins in that moment. 

Just like Watari promised, Yahaba and Kyotani joined shortly after, with tons of beer and baked goods Kyotani cooked for everyone. Hours passed, sharing laughs and reminiscing their high school days, the alcohol started to get the best of them, even Kunimi was cracking jokes every now and then, a few cigarette ends scattered around the table and empty plates piled on the sink. Iwaizumi laid back on the couch and stared at the ceiling, longing for something. 

“Makki told me you tried to call her.” Matsukawa said casually, lighting another cigarette. Iwaizumi sighed and looked at him inhale the smoke.

“I did, but we didn’t talk.” Matsukawa raised an eyebrow. “A guy picked up the phone and I hung up.”  Iwaizumi heard a ‘tsk’ from Matsukawa.

“That’s tough. But she has never mentioned anything about dating when we talk, maybe it was just a friend.” Issei reasoned and Iwaizumi nodded, still unsure.

“Have you seen her recently?” Iwaizumi asked. 

 “We went out the last time she went to Miyagi a few weeks ago. My girl loves her.” Matsukawa took out his phone from the back of his pocket and tapped the screen a few times before showing a picture of his girlfriend and you at some bar, smiling brightly at the camera, cheeks flushed and drinks on the table. Iwaizumi smiled to himself, you looked beautiful yet different, a different kind of light shined in your eyes. “She’s doing great.” 

“I miss her.” Words weren’t enough to describe how much he was hurting.

“I know, but you need to get over her, she already figured things out, you can’t hold to the past any longer. What you did was dick move, but give yourself a chance, you don’t have to date right now but try to get yourself out there, have fun and please get some. I’m begging you.” The last comment earned him a smack on the back of his head from Iwaizumi. 

“How do you know I’m not getting any? You don’t live here anymore.” Iwaizumi questioned. 

“Because Makki won’t stop bitching about your attitude.” Matsukawa explained and brought the cigarette back to his lips and laughed at Iwaizumi’s frown, exhaling the smoke in the opposite direction of his friends. “It’s almost midnight.” He announced. 

“Yeah you are right.” Iwaizumi looked back at the rest of the guys currently crowding his living room, smiling to himself once again. “Thanks.” He paused and looked at the former middle blocker. “For this, I mean, I really needed it.”

“Always.” Matsukawa gave him a pat on his shoulder and smiled, he still had hope for Iwaizumi and he wished nothing but the best for his friend, even if you were not together anymore, both of you deserved to be happy. 

*

Meanwhile in some five star hotel in Tokyo, you struggled to check-in, with a small suitcase and a dress bag hanging on your shoulder, you tried to make the receptionist understand you were part of the required staff for the night and not a reporter trying to get in, but you forgot your team ID. Hideko was nowhere to be seen and none of your higher ups were staying at the same hotel. You were screwed until someone could prove you were in fact working that night and you were losing precious time to get ready, you had less than 6 hours before the party started. 

“Is there a problem?” You heard someone ask from behind you. Meian and his girlfriend walked to the counter and the receptionist’s attitude changed instantly, he explained the situation politely to the two of them while sparing you a nasty side eye when they referred to you. 

“Meian-senshu, please tell them I work with you, they won’t let me check-in and I forgot my ID. My name is on the reservation but they refuse to give me my room.” You pleaded, your dress bag feeling heavier with every minute. 

“Y/N does work with the Black Jackals, I assume you know who I am, please let her in, she’s coming to the party too.” He pointed at the access pass on your wrist. 

“I’m really sorry, ma’am, I will register you right now.” The receptionist typed quickly and gave you the room key. Sighing heavily you thanked Meian for his help as he checked-in himself. His girlfriend started a small chat with you about what you would wear tonight, she was really excited to wear her gown and complemented yours.

“You are going to break hearts tonight, Y/N!” She teased. 

“Well if your dress is how I imagine it is then Meian-senshu is taking two awards tonight.” 

“You are not wrong.” Meian added, sneaking his arm around her waist and passed her the key. “Eleventh floor.” He said as she held the card. “Atsumu isn’t here yet?” He asked and you shrugged. 

“I don’t know, I’ve been here for a good thirty minutes and I didn’t see him come in.” You explained. “Bokuto is not here either.” Meian hummed.

“I’ll give them a call before we go up to our room, they are always late to these things.” 

“They are always late.” You corrected him and he laughed. “See you at the party.” You said before making your way to the elevator, wanting nothing but to get to your room and take a shower. 

Your room was rather big, but definitely not a suite, there were two beds, a desk and a closet right beside the bathroom door, and you had a really nice view of the city. Once you hung up your dress you walked to the window and stared at the city, the sunset claiming the sky and the city lights started to shine brighter. You missed Tokyo. Is not like Osaka was boring or anything, but Tokyo brought memories from your first days of college and all the friends you left behind. Sighing, you turned back and opened your suitcase to get the things you needed to shower and get ready.  

You styled your hair right after showering and did your makeup heavier than usual, you needed to be ready at least two hours before the actual party to have a small meeting with Hideko and the other teams management and make it in time for the red carpet. Struggling to zip your dress by yourself and accepting that you got half a size too small with your shoes again, you were at the door adjusting your earpiece, holding your clutch bag under your arm just in time to meet Hideko and the Jackals assistant coach in the elevator. “The red carpet shouldn’t take long, I’m trying to call everyone so they can get in at once, Y/N I’ll leave them to you.” Hideko ran you through. “Two minutes on the mark, two or three questions and done, you get in once they are all set.” 

“Got it.” You assured her.

“Great.” She sighed in relief. “There’s an after party tomorrow, the big boss wants to have brunch with everyone.” She emphasized the word ‘brunch’ to make it sound fancier and she rolled her eyes. “It is mandatory.” She said before you could ask. 

“I’ll be there then.” The door opened and you stepped out to meet a few people that told you the same thing Hideko said earlier, you talked to some acquaintances from other teams that were told to manage the red carpet along with you. 

“I’m going to strangle them, every single one of those volleyball players.” Hideko gripped her phone in her hands and you laughed. “They are all going to be late.” She massaged her temples and stomped her heels loudly, you could tell her stress was getting the best out of her. “Can you call Atsumu? I’m sure he’ll pick up if he sees it is you.” You complied to her request and dialed Atsumu’s number and turned the speaker on. After three rings he greeted you. 

“Hey, beautiful.” Your cheeks turned pink at the nickname.

“You can flirt later, Romeo, now tell me why you won’t pick up your damn phone.” She gritted her teeth and you cringed. She walked away with your phone as she gave Atsumu instructions to gather all of his teammates and meet her at the lobby. She gave you back your phone and practically ran to the lobby to wait for them. You decided to kill time talking to some people from the event management. After twenty minutes or so, the reporters and paparazzis were lined up in front of the step and repeat and you heard Hideko calling you from your earpiece. ‘They are ready, we go first. I’ll send them one by one, remember, they go first and then their plus one.’ 

You got yourself in position to receive the players, Inunaki was the first to walk in, you smiled at him and walked right behind him, setting him on the mark and stepping aside to let the photographers do their job. Repeating the same process with everyone from the team and their partners, you were ready to set the last three players, Atsumu, Bokuto and Sakusa. 

“You look so good, Y/N!” Bokuto exclaimed when he saw you, Akaashi trailing behind. 

“You two look amazing too!” You checked their outfits up and down. Both of them had tuxedos, Bokuto wore a dark grey suit that matched his hair and Akaashi a classic jet black, hair slicked back and their colognes mixed if you were standing too close.

“Akaashi helped me with my tie.” He said proudly and looked at his boyfriend who smiled back at him. 

“Are you alright?” Akaashi asked. 

“I must look rough, huh?” You chuckled and he rolled his eyes. “My shoes are killing me and I walked on this carpet twenty times already, I don’t think I’ll make it to the end of the night.” You held Bokuto’s bicep. “You ready?” You asked and they both nodded and you guided them to the marks on the step and repeat, Bokuto answered all of the questions cheerfully, excited for his nominations. Once he was done and you were at the entrance, Akaashi tapped your shoulder and made you look back. 

You saw Atsumu talking with Sakusa, their tall figures standing out from the crowd of distressed staff surrounding them, you made sure Bokuto and Akaashi were in before walking to them. Atsumu noticed you coming up to him and shamelessly checked you out —you weren’t that subtle either— smiling brightly once you were in front of him. “Who wants to go first?” You asked. 

“I’ll do it, I want to get over with this as soon as possible.” Kiyoomi huffed, taking his mask off and throwing it in the nearest trash can. “Let's go.” As always you walked him to the mark and waited for him to answer a few questions. Kiyoomi was a great actor, his stance and expression changed as soon as he faced the interviewers, answering calmly and politely. Atsumu was laughing his ass off, knowing that his friend was most likely planning how to get away from the ceremony, maybe faking a headache or even a fainting. You signaled Atsumu to start walking as Sakusa said his goodbyes to the press, you stepped back when Atsumu made it to the white cross mark on the floor and announced you were done with the red carpet on your radio. 

All of the reporters called for Atsumu, yelling questions and complimenting him, he smiled lazily with his hands in his pockets. 

“No plus one tonight, Miya?”  Atsumu laughed at the question.

“My mom was busy” A few of them laughed with him, but it was barely noticeable, the sounds of clicks and flashes from the cameras filled the area. 

“A young man like you showing alone at these events is hard to believe, you sure you don’t have a special someone, Miya-senshu?” 

Atsumu looked at you for less than a second and you saw clearly how his smile widened. “Maybe next time, guys.” He said, looking at you once again waiting for his queue to go, you nodded and he made his way to the main entrance, you following behind. “You look stunning, by the way.” He said as he walked past you when you held the door open for him to get in, you stared at his back until he was out of sight. Hideko dismissed you after that, so you could enjoy the party with the rest of the staff, she promised to join you later to have a drink because according to her, you deserved it. 

The rest of the teams invited to the ceremony were still coming in, but the salon was already filled with people, from sponsors to team owners, and some volleyball legends you recognized from the countless rambles Bokuto and Atsumu absorbed you in. It was different, it felt different, it wasn’t until that moment you realized the turn your career took after joining the team, it was crazy to think that you were part of this world now. A few taps on your shoulder were enough to snap you back to reality, Aran and Hana greeted you warmly and they looked amazing with Aran’s tie matching Hana’s red dress. “I think I’ll never get used to this.” She said and you agreed. Aran got abducted by some other players and you were left alone with her, the bar was conveniently close to you, so you opted to get something to drink to start the night. “Where’s Atsumu?” She asked. 

“I have no idea, he walked in and I lost him, maybe with the rest of the team” You pointed to a table near the center where most of the team members sat, waiting for the ceremony to start. He was indeed sitting with coach Foster and Barnes, laughing fondly and having their first glass of wine. You smiled to yourself in satisfaction, everything was going well, and hopefully everyone would take an award home. 

“That man over there is totally checking you out.” Hana said and you turned your head back to see her. “To your left.” As soon as you looked where she told you, you felt your soul leave your body and come back right after. 

“I’ll be back in a second.” You announced and walked towards the man that was ‘totally checking you out’. “Don’t you know staring is rude?” 

“Oh shut up, I couldn’t recognize you from here.” He defended himself. “I forgot my glasses at home.” You hugged him.

“You’ll  never learn.” Giggling he nudged your shoulder and stepped back to have a better view of your face. “My friend thought you were checking me out.” 

“Come on, I have higher standards.” He teased. “Where 's Bokuto? He said to meet him here earlier.” 

“He’s with the team, over there.” You pointed with your head and he hummed when he saw the grey haired man standing next to his boyfriend, talking with people you didn’t knew. You caught a glance of his smirk before he said:

“Does everyone here greet you with death stares or is it only that guy walking over here?”  Kuroo asked. You turned your head back to see Atsumu approaching you, pushing past all the people that tried to intersect him on his way to you. 

“Hey, uh, Hideko is looking for you.” He lied, you looked at him weird, you were pretty sure that Hideko was busy talking with the event management. 

“That’s weird, she would’ve rang me if she needed me.” You said showing your radio. Picking up on his jealousy tantrum by the way he was standing protectively in front of you, you grabbed his arm and pushed him to the side and made him turn around. “Kuroo, this is Miya Atsumu. Tsumu, this is my best friend Kuroo, the one I talked you about before.” Atsumu’s frown softened a bit but he was still suspicious — and jealous— about Kuroo and his smug grin. 

“Kuroo Tetsuro, I work with the institution.” He extended his hand and Atsumu did the same. 

“When you say it like that you almost sound important.” You mocked.

“That’s because I am important, baby.” Kuroo said, knowing exactly what he was doing by using that pet name. “Now, I’ll leave you both to it, I need to talk with Bokuto.” He excused himself and you were left alone with Atsumu, with your hand still on his arm, you walked him to the bar  where Hana waited for you.

“What was that about?” You asked. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I saw a suspicious man near you and I thought you needed help.” He shrugged. 

“Yeah, right, there’s nothing suspicious about Kuroo, he’s an idiot, don’t mind him.” You reassured him. “That was my best friend, not a man checking me out.” You said to Hana when you made it back to her side.

“He looks like a pervert.” Hana admitted. 

“See? I’m not the only one who thought there was something wrong with him.” Atsumu looked at you with wide eyes. The lights dimmed and the last call before the ceremony started was heard. “This is going to start soon, let’s take our seats.” You accompanied Hana to the Red Falcons table and then headed to your team’s seats with Atsumu’s hand in yours at all times, unbuttoning his jacket he sat right beside you.

“Are you nervous?” You asked him. 

“Not in the slightest.” He lied to you for the second time that night. He was terrified, he didn’t wanted to lose the award, especially in front of you.  

“I hope you prepared an acceptance speech.”  He sighed soundly and squeezed your hand. 

“No need, Tobio-kun is here, that award is his.” He sounded defeated, it was your turn to give his hand a squeeze. While you knew many sides of Atsumu he didn’t show often, you weren’t familiar with his pessimist persona, it was a sight you didn’t like at all, defeat wasn’t a good look on him. 

“Stop that, award or not, you are still one of the best setters in the country and no one can change that.” He let go of your hand to call the waiter to get you whatever you wanted to drink, whining for your long forgotten gimlet you left behind when you were talking to Kuroo, you asked for water. “You made me waste a drink.”

“I didn’t do anything, you are the forgetful one here.”  Your banter was cut short by Adriah’s voice, the ceremony started without the two of you noticing. 

“It’s an honor to be hosting the twenty-seventeen Volleyball Association Awards. Tonight the best players of all three divisions will be rewarded for their performance during the last two seasons. How are you feeling tonight, Komori?” Adriah looked at the EJP Raijin’s Libero. 

“Thank you for that introduction, Adriah, and I’m really excited to see who will win in each category, and speaking of, our categories for tonight are: coach, setter, middle blocker, wing spiker and libero of the year; best captain, and best new comer.” A screen behind both hosts showed the nominations at the same time Komori listed them. 

“Both men's and women’s leagues will be presented by our wonderful co-hosts, let’s get started with our first nomination, we leave you with Tsukasa Iizuna from the Deseo Hornets.” Adriah and Komori walked out the stage after shaking hands with Iizuna. He introduced the nominees for wing spiker of the year.   

After an hour or so, Inunaki was the only one in the team with an award, sadly Meian lost to Fukuro Hirugami and Suna won best newcomer over Bokuto and Sakusa. “Presenting the setter of the year nominees, Kanoka Amanai, wing spiker of the women’s National Volleyball Team for the 2016 olympics and the Hisamitsu Springs.” Komori introduced a tall girl in a beautiful yellow dress, she smiled nervously and held the envelope with the winner tightly. 

“A lot of people often think that us spikers do all the job at scoring points, but the truth is, that setters are the ones that rule the court from both sides, we wouldn’t be anything without our setters. That’s why I’m honored to present to you the nominees for the setter of the year award.” The screen in the back showed pictures and the names from each nominee, Atsumu’s name right beside Kageyama’s. 

“And the winner is…” Kanoka said, opening the envelope. “Miya Atsumu, from the MSBY Black Jackals.” She read after a few seconds and everyone cheered. Atsumu looked at you with wide eyes and hugged you instinctively. The rest of the team practically dragged him out of his seat to receive his award. He almost tripped trying to hug Aran on his way to the stage but he made it eventually. He took the golden statue in one hand and stood in front of the microphone with his mouth agape and laughing nervously. 

“Wow.” He said, now wishing he prepared an acceptance speech. “This is unbelievable, really. I didn’t expect to win something like this in my first year playing professionally.” He looked at the statue and then back to the crowd. “ Sometimes I push myself too hard for the sake of my team and the weight of losing is always devastating, especially playing this position, but I’m thankful to everyone. My teammates, coach Foster and our management for trusting me and pushing me to do my best. I also want to thank my friends and my brother, who is not here tonight, but he was the best spiker I’ve ever had and the one that trained with me everyday since we were kids, I know he is going to see this, so, thank you ‘Samu, I wouldn’t be here without you.”  He was talking really fast and barely breathing. “This means a lot to me, thank you so much.” He finished and the crowd cheered for him, your table was the loudest of them all. 

He walked back to his seat where everyone waited to congratulate him but he went straight to you and hugged you again, tighter this time. “I told you that you were going to win. I’m so proud of you.” You said before breaking the hug. 

“Thank you.” His eyes were watery and his lip quivered. You made him turn to celebrate with his teammates before he cried and everyone gave him aggressive pats on his back and teased him for being so cheesy. He was happy. So happy he couldn’t stop smiling even when the ceremony ended. 

The party went on smoothly but it was quite boring, everyone wandered around the room talking and congratulating the winners, you grew tired of following Hideko around, big parties weren’t your thing if you were honest. You excused yourself and found your way to a huge balcony that worked as an outdoor smoking lounge. The cold air against your skin made you regret your decisions but it was too late to back down. You placed your hands on the railing and tried to get used to the freezing weather, looking down, you saw a restaurant across the street, the customers wore hats and drank happily celebrating the new year. Right. It was New Year’s Eve. After your realization you checked the hour. 

11:47 P.M.

“What are you doing here?”  Atsumu asked and closed the door behind him. “I’ve been looking for you.” 

“I needed some air.” You stated. 

“Aren’t you cold?” You felt his breath on your ear and smiled. 

“Not really.” You said turning around. He knew you were lying.“Why are you here? You should be celebrating.” You fixed his tie as you spoke, your eyes met his. Taking a better look of his face you smiled to yourself. Atsumu was stunning. Sure he looked good everyday but tonight it was different, it was maybe the tuxedo  or the victorious smile gracing his face, he was the definition of beauty, in its purest form; happiness. 

“Got bored, and I wanted to ask you something.” He explained and placed his hands on their usual spot on your hips. 

“Oh god, please tell me you are not asking me out on New Year’s Eve.” you hooked your arms around his neck and played with the back of his hair. 

“That’s exactly what I’m doing, now shut up and let me make this special.” He tried to bring you closer to him and looked at the moon for a second. “I know it has been hard for you to give yourself another chance to live your life like you want to, and you don’t know how thankful I am for being a part of it. I also know your last boyfriend was an asshole and hurted you beyond repair” 

“Well that’s a way to put it.” You interrupted him and laughed.

“Let me finish.” He laughed along with you. “I promise you, I will treat you so much better if you let me. I know maybe I’m not what you are looking for but you are all I want.”  He was sincere, you could tell by the way his eyes pierced into you, eagerly waiting for you to say something. 

“I don’t know where you got that from, but you are wrong, ‘Tsumu. You are all I want too.” You looked at him with the same intensity but you had tears in your eyes. He didn’t waste another second and kissed you. It was long, and passionate, and loving. He wanted to tell you everything he couldn’t with that kiss. 

He was yours. 

“Now I’m the real winner tonight.” He joked when he pulled apart. 

“Shut up.” You kissed him again before he could say something stupid. 

“Are we interrupting something?” Aran and Suna peaked from the door. “Get in before the countdown starts.” Suna ordered without waiting for an answer, you did as he said, walking hand in hand with Atsumu, something that wasn’t strange for you but this time it was different, because he was yours. 

You had to walk faster to stand with your friends and some team members and the countdown started. Ten. Everyone chanted excitedly to receive the new year. 

Nine, eight, seven, six.

“Ready?” Atsumu asked, staring at you lovingly. 

Five

“I am. But what if I don’t want this to end?” 

Four

“Too late for that, babe, let’s make the most out of this year too.” He kissed the back of your hand and giggled. “Let’s ditch this party first.”

Three

“Please.” You agreed and looked around to spot your friends standing near you with glasses full of champagne.

Two

He brought you closer to him with his hand on the small of your back, lips painfully close to yours.

One

“Happy new year, Y/N.” 

“Happy new year, ‘Tsumu.”  With that said, he gave you a New Year’s kiss you’ll never forget, once again telling you that he was yours. 

And you were his.

(a/n: look who finally came back!! the worst writer ever. so uhm, i literally have no excuse this time, depression has been kicking my ass lately and i had a huge creative block, there was nothing going on in my head, it was just me and mitski against the world. anyways, there you have it, iwaizumi being miserable and a wholesome seijoh reunion without oikawa because he is booked and busy. ALSO !!! ATSUMU!!! WHAT THE HECK MARRY ME IM SO IN LOVE WITH HIM. and no i don’t know what complying to canon is, im sorry kageyama but it was atsumu’s moment to shine, you’ll get it next year... or not. tell me if you liked this chapter, i love reading y’all. i hope everyone is safe and healthy, remember to take time for yourself and that atsumu is the only man ever!!)

masterlist

TAGLIST (closed): @aonenthusiast @wiseeggspickleslime​ @koushisun​ @airheadpillar​ @sunflwrsandprettyskies​ @bbkiyoomi​ @daphnxy​ @shephard17895​ @avatarkyoshithewarrior​ @for-rebloggery​ @vv-bee999-vv vv @fi16ns @asdfghjkl7things @glassykaashi @strawhatshepard @hawkssnugget @msby-kei @toobsessedsstuff @a-moon-fairy @cuteissei @ramblingsofagoofyperson @pinoyrella @kiyoomisimp

[fettsvette]

Never Worn White (Part Two)

Cloud City, Bespin. Boba Fett is on the hunt for a casual fuck before he cashes in on Han Solo’s bounty. You’re a naïve virgin, saving yourself for an adolescent fantasy… and it just so happens that he’s in town. Upon encountering the object of your infatuation though, you didn’t expect he’d be so willing to help you out.

Pairing: Boba Fett x Reader Words: 6.8k Rating: Explicit Warnings: Loss of virginity and unprotected sex

Can be found on Archive of Our Own here.

Mando’a terminology

 vaar’ika - little runt

  nehutyc’ika - feisty one

 cyar’tomade - fans

   -

  “Your boyfriend’s at the Atrium.”

  The words were like a lightning strike through the very fiber of your being, your whole body vibrating, no matter how teasingly and sarcastically they were meant. Your head jerked up so fast from the holopad screen you’d been gazing at that you felt as if you had just given yourself whiplash, and your blood pressure instantly skyrocketed, leaving you feeling light-headed and dizzy. Your roommate grinned lecherously at you, their eyes glinting mischievously. They were one of the few people to know about your feelings for Boba Fett, and it was obvious now that they were torturing you, feeding you false information and getting your hopes up just to watch you fluster and squirm like a giddy schoolgirl. Of course, they didn’t know the extent of your infatuation, and what you were planning if you ever happened to cross paths with the infamous bounty hunter during his unprecedented stay in Cloud City. You didn’t intend to allow them to find out, either.

  “...What are you talking about? Stop it...” You replied faintly, gazing up at them dumbly from your perch on the couch, uncrossing your legs and attempting to knead the life back into the prickling muscles. Your gaze drifted to your hands as you did so, trying futilely to get them to stop shaking just so your flatmate didn’t have something else to rib you over, and then skirted over to the wide window looking out over the city. Neat rows of transports crisscrossing in every direction lined the nighttime sky, carrying Cloud City’s citizens and tourists alike to where they needed to go. You couldn’t help but direct your vision towards the vicinity of the entertainment district, its bright lights plainly visible from your apartment. The Paradise Atrium was only a short distance away from your apartment on Figg Avenue, even closer than the landing bay where the Slave I was still docked. There was no way. It was too good to be true, simply meant to be. He was coming closer and closer to you.

  “I’m not kidding. Boba Fett’s at the Paradise Atrium, right now . I had to stop there on my way home to drop off a couple containers of glitterstim my boss owed the slimeball that owns that place, y’know? I walked in and he was literally right there in the cantina, just sitting at one of the booths in the corner… the ones they always reserve for the really top-tier VIPs.” They explained seriously, and you envisioned the layout of the lounge in your mind, an establishment you had visited quite often. Your thoughts brought you to the very rear of the adjacent and aptly-named Paradise Cantina... into the recesses of a shadowy booth, where sat an imposing figure in a battle-worn suit of Mandalorian armor, reclined against the plush backing of the stall, legs spread almost obscenely wide. His codpiece was mysteriously absent, and you could see everything . He beckoned you closer with the twitch of a gloved finger ...and you shook yourself from your reverie, acutely aware that a cold sweat had started collecting on the back of your neck. You fought the urge to slap yourself across the face, the imagined mercenary still calling to you from your subconscious.

  “Okay, okay… crik. Are you absolutely sure it was him?” You pleaded desperately, and your roommate openly rolled their eyes in your direction, shaking their head incredulously. You needed to be sure . You’d heard of the Fett imposter Jodo Kast, and even though the presence of the Slave I on-world was an immediate indication that the visitor was the real deal himself, there was still a niggling disbelief in your mind. This just could not be happening right now.

 “Of course I’m sure! Kriff, how many Mandos do you think are just walking around Cloud City? Beefy-looking buckethead wearing green scrap metal, more weapons on him than stars in the sky. Poor kid they had serving him was terrified, the guy was shaking so bad he almost dropped a whole tray of brinebrew on the graysuits that were in the booth with him. And - okay, are we just going to ignore the fact that I called Boba kriffing Fett your boyfriend and you didn’t even blink? Honestly, I really can’t believe you sometimes…”

  You didn’t even wait for them to finish. The fact that there were apparently high-ranking Imperial officers meeting with this mystery man was all the information you needed for any seed of doubt in your mind to be crushed. The holopad fell from your hands to land screen-down on the floor, entirely forgotten. Leaping up from the couch and power-walking towards your bedroom on tremulous legs, you flung the door closed behind you and hurriedly began rooting through your closet, looking for something halfway presentable to change into. You stripped yourself of your sweatpants and ripped t-shirt, having instantly settled on a glittering shimmersilk dress that you’d impulsively bought as a present to yourself after your last pay raise. You paused as you pulled the thin material over your head, debating whether or not to put on a bra before you dressed any further. With a curt sigh at yourself, you continued to slip your arms through the straps, smoothing the bunched fabric over the swell of your breasts. There was no point in bothering with one of those itchy, lacy garments you owned, that only you had ever laid eyes on - if all went according to plan tonight, your bra would just be coming off sooner rather than later anyway. You bent to slip your bare feet into a pair of plain black flats - you’d considered heels for a brief moment, but decided against them on the off-chance you had to make a quick getaway - when you were interrupted by the bedroom door colliding with the wall as it was unceremoniously flung open.

  “...And just where the frozz do you think you’re going wearing that ?” A disbelieving voice intoned harshly from the doorway, and you looked up to see your roommate blocking the light flooding in from the living area, a panic-stricken expression written across their features. You paused, your arms hanging limply at your sides, staring determinedly back at your roommate, whose face was beginning to reflect a dawning sense of horror and understanding. 

  “ Out. ” You answered in a bland monotone, snatching your handbag off the bed and peeking inside of it, making sure that the keycard to your apartment door, as well as your credit chip and a healthy pouch of physical Imperial credit coins, were tucked away safely inside. Your roommate strode forward, grabbing your forearm and squeezing tightly, causing you to wince as they forced you to look them in the eye.

  “Out where ?”

  You didn’t reply, your plans already dangerously close to unraveling. Your roommate’s grip tightened to the point of pain, and you were stunned to see that their eyes had filled with tears of fright. You knew you should feel guilty for putting them through this sort of duress, for worrying them to the point of weeping over your safety, but the only thing you found yourself feeling was a sort of grim pleasure. The fact that someone you had grown so close to in your years of living in Cloud City, a creature you considered to be one of your closest friends, could be frightened to this level by the thought of you becoming somehow entangled with the notorious Boba Fett, did nothing but give you a sick sense of satisfaction deep in your gut. It heightened the swirling arousal that was already building deep in the pit of your belly, fantastical images of what this night’s adventure could possibly bring already brewing in your mind. Your roommate finally loosened their vice grip on your arm and shook their head unbelievingly, backing away from you as if you were tainted.

  “Oh, stars … I know what you’re thinking. Please don’t do this. This isn’t some game of Droids and Guards, you fool, he’s dangerous .” They begged, seeming nearer and nearer to tears with every word. 

  “Don’t worry about me. I know what I’m doing. I’m not going to get myself into a situation I can’t handle, I just… I just want to see him.” You adjusted the strap of your handbag on your shoulder and heard the childish, lovestruck pleading in your voice. You hated yourself for it, for letting yourself get this much in a tizzy over a mere man - but this truly wasn’t just a man, was it? You could very possibly wind up in bed with none other than Boba Fett by the end of the night, if the galaxy was kind to you. He was going to be the first to ever claim you - as you pushed past your roommate and headed for the door, you were certain of it. This was your darkest, deepest fantasy come true, something you had been pining for and secretly dreaming about since you were old enough to even fathom the concept of sex, of virginity. Boba Fett was the only man you’d ever thought about giving yourself to for years now, and this was quite possibly your only chance. There was no turning back now.

  “Didn’t you hear me say that he was surrounded by Imps?! High-ranking Imps ! He kills people for money! He’s here working for the Emperor, I know it, and that big brute Vader’s still lurking around -” You held up one hand to silence them, and to your surprise, they immediately stopped, wild-eyed and staring at you imploriously, hands raised above their head. You had never seen your friend this keyed up, this stricken by concern for your wellbeing. It felt strange to say, but other than mynocks in your stomach from thinking about how the rest of the night could go, you didn’t understand just what this panic was all about. You weren’t stupid enough to interrupt important Imperial business, and it wasn’t like Lord Vader himself was going to be sitting at the bar, nursing a drink - right?

  “Just… don’t wait up for me tonight. Okay?” You quietly begged your friend, your voice sweetly soft and as neutral as you could manage. A long moment passed between the two of you, no words spoken, just gazing into each other’s eyes. Several beats passed in silence, only the traffic outside interrupting the heavy tension that filled the room. Your roommate was the first to break, their shoulders sinking, defeated. You felt a new burst of energy and smug satisfaction, but couldn’t help but feel somewhat remorseful at your reaction towards their obvious distress. The feeling passed quickly, however, when your roommate bowed their head, the ghost of a smile on their lips as they clucked their tongue and shook their head at you.

 “Dank farrik… you’re a real pain in my ass, you know that? ...But okay. You win.” They sighed. You kept your expression even, although you were screaming with joy on the inside, and were about to reach out to embrace them, when they took a step back and pointed in your face. You felt yourself going slightly cross-eyed, following their finger down the bridge of your nose, and had to stifle an ill-timed giggle. “But if you’re not back by sunrise, I’m contacting the Wing Guard and reporting you missing, and I’m going to tell them who you were trying to meet up with. I’ll get Baron Calrissian and the Alliance involved. Don’t think I won’t.” They continued, and your heart skipped a beat. You certainly weren’t expecting that turn of events, but weren’t exactly surprised either. With how sympathetic your roommate was to the Rebel Alliance, especially concerning the events of the past week and the installation of what the locals were beginning to call the ‘Iron Blockade,’ it made sense that they would threaten you with action involving the Rebellion, even if it was just out of concern for your safe return. It wasn’t that you didn’t support the Rebels yourself - their crushing blow to the Empire in the form of the destruction of the Death Star had reinvigorated your hope in their cause, especially after the horrific obliteration of Alderaan - but the purely selfish, immature side of you wondered what would happen to Boba Fett if the Rebellion were to come out the victors of this current Galactic Civil War. He was one of Vader’s most loyal hunters, and you had a feeling that the Rebels wouldn’t smile kindly upon his transgressions against them. Especially since one of their most famous generals, Han Solo, currently had a bounty on his head large enough to buy an entire spice mine, and it had been speculated on the HoloNet that Fett was one of the many mercenaries attempting to cash in on this coveted prize.

  You walked past your roommate without another word, slipping past them in the doorway of your bedroom, and padded easily across the living area carpet, knowing now that they’d had put their last word in and would no longer attempt to stop you. Settling your hand upon the doorknob leading into the hall, you were about to let yourself out into the night when you heard the Aruzan softly call your name, and you turned. They stood in the center of the room, smiling sadly, arms folded across their chest, a look of intense worry upon their face as they watched you exit, hoping they would find you back home in the morning. Their last words to you rang in your ears as you made your way across the night sky in the space taxi that would deposit you right on the steps of the Atrium.

  “Good luck.”

  -

  You stepped into the main lounge of the Paradise Atrium and instantly felt incredibly out of place, and exorbitantly underdressed despite the expensive shimmersilk you had draped yourself in for this special occasion.

  The room was filled with regal-looking creatures from all over the galaxy - a large group of Twi’leks sat on a couch in the far corner, smoking from a hookah and emitting large columns of purple and green smoke through their nostrils in between bouts of gay laughter, and a company of important-looking Nothoiin congregated around the elaborate carbonite sculpture placed in the center of the room. You’d attended gatherings at the Atrium many times before, but you’d never been in the presence of so many upper-class individuals. You wouldn’t be surprised if just one of these creatures was currently carrying more credits in their pockets than you would ever see in your entire lifetime. Not to mention, there were several armored stormtroopers, their white plastoid suits gleaming in the artificial light, holding sentinel near the staff entrance at the rear of the room, a sight you’d never seen here before. Something was definitely going down in Cloud City, and you had walked right into it. That realization alone made you want to sink into the floor, and what made it even worse was the fact that there was no sign of Boba Fett.

  You had crept into the Atrium as discreetly as you could, almost on tiptoe, and in hindsight you weren’t exactly sure what you had been expecting. Had you thought that you’d walk in and Fett himself would have been standing there, awaiting your entrance like a prince from ancient myth, on call for his princess’s arrival at the ball? Heart hammering wildly, leaning against the wall for support, you had scanned the room twice, then thrice over, looking for a flash of green, a swirl of cape, any indication that he was present, only to come up empty. He simply wasn’t here; at least he wasn’t anymore, if he ever had been in the first place. As much as you loved your roommate, and despite their almost violent reaction they’d had to the knowledge that you were - at the very least - trying to meet Boba Fett, it wouldn’t terribly surprise you if they had been pulling your leg all along. You’d trudge back into your shared apartment, dejected, and your roommate would be there, grinning smugly, lecturing that the moral of this story was to never seek company with strange men.

  Gazing around the room once more and seeing no sign of Fett, or at the very least, the Imperial graysuits that he’d apparently been here meeting with, you found yourself almost embarrassingly heartbroken. You’d banked so much on tonight, only for it to wind up being a missed chance, if not a complete fake-out. You refused to give your roommate the satisfaction of heading straight back home, though, so you figured now was as good a time as any to drink your sorrows away at the bar. The Paradise Cantina was adjacent to the Atrium and contained a half-moon bar as well as several comfortable private booths, and you sidled onto one of the stools at the center of the console, directly in front of the bartender, a distinguished-looking Bothan who eyed you dubiously.

  “Anything I can get for you, kid?” He asked gruffly, polishing a glass and looking you up and down, feeling you out. Although you had lounged with friends at the Atrium, even attended a few workplace parties there, you’d never really been a patron of the bar, and you felt the clientele ogling you suspiciously. It obviously wasn’t an ordinary occurrence, to see a scantily clad young woman sitting alone at a high-class bar, and the various eyes on you made your skin crawl, although you did your best to ignore the unwanted attention.

  “Just a Jedi Mind Trick, please. Make it a double” You replied softly, keeping your eyes down, tracing your fingernail against the wood grain of the bar. You heard the Bothan snort, probably amused at your choice of such a strong drink right off the bat, doubting you could hold your liquor. The way you saw it, though, you’d rather spend the rest of the evening getting shit-faced here than simply slinking off home alone, to wallow in bed self-despairingly. 

  The bartender had just set the triangular container full of bright blue liquid on the counter in front of you when a door you hadn’t noticed on the far side of the room slid open, and a figure stepped out. A hush immediately fell over the room, which had previously been filled with glasses clinking, quiet conversation and laughter, and a holographic jizz band being broadcast. You didn’t bother to look over at first, too absorbed in your own self-pity to care, picking up the glass and knocking the entire drink back in one gulp, leaving the edges of your mind slightly blurred.

  That’s when you heard the spurs.

  Kshnk. Kshnk. Kshnk.

  At first you assumed it was solely a figment of your imagination, an effect of the alcohol being absorbed into your system, until you realized that the room had gone silent, that even the hologram of the band had ceased playing. You looked up at the bartender, but he was staring over the top of your head, paused in the act of refilling another guest’s stein. The jangling sound filled your ears until you could hear nothing else, not even the sound of your own breathing, and a chill went down your spine. You were clenching your empty cup so tight that you were surprised it didn’t shatter in your hand. Gingerly, you turned around to acknowledge the cantina’s newest arrival, your stomach rolling with anticipation, your blood singing in your veins, your heart pounding like a gigantic drum sitting in your chest cavity. You looked up.

  And there he was.

  Boba Fett.  

  He was shorter than you expected.

  You felt a near-hysterical giggle rise in your throat as the realization crossed your mind, that this was your very first thought upon seeing the man you’d envisioned fucking you time and time again - in person, finally. The laughter died in your throat as he turned to cross the room, only several meters away from you, and you got your first real look at him.

  Stars, he was beautiful .

  Boba Fett walked slowly, methodically, with more purpose than you had ever seen another creature move, even though it seemed his only motive at the moment was to find a place to sit down. The dented helmet that concealed his features didn’t break its steady gaze straight ahead even once as Fett crossed the room, even though every eye in the cantina was locked to him. There was no way the man didn’t know that he was currently the center of attention, the reason for the palatable silence in the air, and it was quite obvious that he didn’t care one parsec. The green armor he wore was littered with scrapes and scars and dents, but still shone in the low light of the bar, as if it had only just been waxed, and you shivered at the thought of getting to press your bare chest against the battle-flecked breastplate. A ragged cape was tossed over one shoulder, and your eyes were drawn to the string of inexplicable numbers glowing out from an interface on the right-hand side of his armor, and to the strange symbol mirroring its position, a stalk of grain framed by a bright red drop of blood and what looked to be lettering in a language you didn’t recognize, directly above his heart. There were several long braids of multi-colored and variously textured hair thrown over the opposite side of his shoulder plate, the sight of which sent another delicious chill up your spine. You knew you should be repulsed by the sight of those trophies of war alone, but it served as a confirmation of something you already knew - this man was dangerous . There was debate on the HoloNet as to the origin of those braids - some who’d been following Fett’s career, as you did, were adamant that they were made of the scalps of Wookiees he’d killed; yet others claimed they were the braids of Jedi Padawans he’d hunted down at the request of Lord Vader himself. Your eyes flitted downwards to below his waist, heat flushing through your system. The greenish codpiece was just as battered as the rest of the armor - even more so, upon a closer look. Judging by the craggy yet shallow indentation located almost in the dead-center of it, some unfortunate soul had made a last ditch effort to save themselves by taking a shot at what they must have thought was the most vulnerable area on Fett’s body. They had obviously been wrong, and you were grateful for it. 

  Almost seeming to move in slow motion, the bounty hunter passed directly by the bar, and you could have sworn you could sense his body heat even from several meters away, could smell blaster smoke and blood on him. As repulsive as those scents should have been, reminiscent of battlefields and death and suffering, you felt almost soothed by the thought of being able to press your face to the rough cloth that held the Mandalorian armor together, breathe in those aromas as deeply as you wished, a smell that was so distinctly him . You focused your gaze on Boba Fett once more just in time to see him settle himself at a raised table in the corner, reclining back casually. He seemed to finally notice that all other movement and conversation in the cantina had ceased upon his arrival, and his helmet swiveled first to the left, then to the right, making direct eye contact with several goggling patrons, who uneasily turned away under his gaze. Fett’s visor then turned in your direction and your heart walloped frantically in your chest - ‘ has he noticed me?’ - but it became obvious quite quickly that he was looking past you, straight at the Bothan behind the bar, who regarded Fett for a long moment before offering him a grudging nod. Almost as if this were some sort of cue, the holographic band started up again with a lively rendition of ‘Sugaan Essena,’ and the muttered discussions, tinkling of glasses, and laughter resumed. The clients of the Paradise Atrium and Cantina seemed eager to forget that the deadliest bounty hunter in the known galaxy was seated in their midst. Fett, however, had cast his gaze to the city outside, watching the rows of traffic track across the nighttime sky, gloved hands resting firmly on his knees, deep in thought. 

  You watched out of the corner of your eye as three young Zabrak women wearing matching skin-tight baffleweave bodysuits made a beeline for Fett’s table as soon as the atmosphere had settled down, obviously over-eager for their chance to flirt with danger. You sniggered when the armored figure sent them away with a wave of his hand before they even had a chance to close in on him, watched them turn tail with their heads down almost as quickly as they had first come. You tried to ignore the coiling pit of unease in your belly as you considered moving forward with your plan, despite the fact that it seemed for all intents and purposes that Fett did not want to be bothered. You continued to watch the man as his attention was drawn back to the outside world. ‘ Oh, hell. You only live once, right? What’s the worst that could happen, he tells you to kark off?’

  “Hey… would you send a drink over to that table in the corner? Whatever he usually orders when he comes here.” You waved the bartender over, pointing a thumb over your shoulder at Boba Fett, jerking your chin in his direction as well for emphasis. You were trying to play it cool, sending a drink to the table of one of the most bloodthirsty men in the galaxy, but you were sure that the bartender could see your hand shaking as you made the request. The tall Bothan looked at you as if you had asked him for a diamond-encrusted barrel of Coruscanti bitters, straight from the Emperor’s private reserve.

  “...You sure about that, kid? You do know who that is, right? Boba Fett’s one tough customer. You’d be better off not messing around with that barve.” He leaned down towards you, warning you off as if you were a child, trying to play with the older kids who would only include you in their games if it meant beating you within an inch of your life. You nodded, looking back with what you hoped was a steely determination.

  “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

  The Bothan looked at you for a moment with great pity, as if he were gazing upon a creature that had just consigned itself to its doom. Heaving a sigh that quivered the fur lining his muzzle, the bartender turned and started preparing another drink.

  You couldn’t even look as the liquor was brought across the room by one of the ornate serving droids that wandered the cantina. You kept your head low, jiggling one leg on the stool beneath you, digging your fingernails into the glossy wood that encompassed the top of the bar. The minutes seemed to tick by excruciatingly, and you were overcome by the notion that maybe you should leave, get up and bolt when you still could, escape before Fett was aware of what fool had sent him the drink, go home to bed and forget any of this had ever happened. But too late - just as you were beginning to shift in your seat, to lean in the direction of the doorway and gather up the momentum to run, the bartender cleared his throat, causing your head to pop up at the sudden noise. The Bothan looked you in the eyes and did nothing but give you a subtle bob of his head, watching a point across the room. You followed his eyes, and stopped dead in your tracks.

  Boba Fett was staring at you.

  Openly leering at you was a better term for it, his entire body turned in your direction, lazily slumped in his seat, his legs spread comfortably wide. Kriff, this was just like your daydream. As soon as he was sure that he had your attention, and as if he had read your mind, one hand rose from its spot resting against the ample meat of his thigh, and two deft fingers hidden under an off-white glove of bantha leather beckoned you closer with a quick curling motion. It was an action that whispered, ‘ Come hither, my dear. Let’s play.’

  Your stomach lurched and your vision suddenly filled with black spots, and you bit down hard on your lower lip, the quick pain bringing you back from the brink of passing out. Your eyes refocused, the dark points fading away, and there he still sat, his position unchanged. He was waiting for you to come over. You looked back at the bartender for guidance - by now you were sure he had seen this song and dance played out here many times before - and the Bothan gave you a roll of his deep-set dark eyes, and a noncommittal shrug. He’d already written you off as another casualty, the sad result of human naïveté in the face of the galaxy’s bloodthirstiness.

  You rose from your stool on legs that felt as if they were made of bacta, your feet seeming to glide across the floor of the Atrium, bringing you ever closer to Boba Fett. The cantina patrons seemed to part like a sea for you, and you didn’t give a womp rat’s ass if they were staring, whispering about you. Your eyes and thoughts belonged only to the helmeted man who had beckoned you closer, and whose parted legs you were standing almost directly between when your long walk ended. You were so close that you could see yourself reflected in his blackened visor, dumbfounded. You were visibly trembling, and you could feel Fett’s body heat rolling off him, soaking into your own legs as you stood before him. It took you a moment to comprehend that he was waiting for you to speak, for you to make the first move.

  “...You’re here for Han Solo, aren’t you? Everyone knows you two have a rivalry and that you’ve been after him for ages now, and he’s here, and you’re here, and that can’t be a coincidence, right? It’s like -” The words rushed from your mouth in an excited torrent, and you were fully aware that you were babbling at him, but you couldn’t stop yourself if you tried. Every nerve-ending in your body felt sparked with the fire of a planet’s core, you were absolutely thrumming, and you didn’t care whether you sounded like an idiot in front of this man who you’d lusted after for ages, just as long as you were talking to him, that you had his attention. Mercifully, Fett’s palm came up, the same move he had used on the Zabraks earlier in the night. You stopped mid-sentence, your mouth still hanging upon, your eyes wide.

  “I’m here on business. What exactly that pertains to is none of your concern.” The reply was smooth and unhurried, and he didn’t even look at you. Boba Fett seemed much more concerned with what was going on outside the Atrium’s walls, his line of sight falling past you, towards the lights of the Administrator's Palace. Where Han Solo probably was, if the rumors of him being Leia Organa’s consort were true. So you were right. Even if he wouldn’t admit it in words, it was almost like the bounty hunter was showing you. At least, that’s how you chose to take it.

  “...Oh. Okay. ...Fair enough, I guess.” You cautiously replied, unsure of how to proceed when he offered no further conversation, and cringed inwardly. Stars , you were truly awful at small talk, especially with handsome men. No wonder you’d never gotten laid. Fett’s helmet snapped towards you like a sharp cut with a blade, his restraint with your dallying almost nonexistent, and you felt yourself flush hotly as you realized you’d just been staring blankly at him the entire time, drinking him up just as greedily as any Hutt would look upon a dancer. There was no way he couldn’t tell your intentions, and your confidence and excitability wavered. 

  “So what exactly is it that you want from me, girl? I don’t have the time nor the patience to be followed around and gifted tokens at bars by starry-eyed brats. Say what you will, or I’ll have you removed from my sight. Now .”

  There was ice in his voice, and you found yourself slightly afraid for the first time. The idea of Boba Fett growing angry with you was not something you wanted to experience. You had to say your piece now, or risk losing what you wanted forever. You balled your fists so hard that you were sure your nails were cutting through the skin of your palms, but you stood your ground. You weren’t going to let Fett intimidate you away from what you wanted of him, not now. You were too close.

  So you told him, blunt and straight to the point.

  “I’ve never been fucked. I want you to be my first.”

  Fett’s form stiffened in his seat, the gloved hand that had been nonchalantly resting on his thigh almost imperceptibly gripping the hard muscle beneath. You didn’t notice, nor were you able to sense the fact that he was holding his breath. 

  Despite the extraordinary self-control Boba Fett had cultivated over every aspect of his functions during his decades of bounty hunting, he felt his cock twitch involuntarily within the confines of his flight pants. He’d encountered plenty of cyar’tomade across the galaxy over the years, desperate creatures of all types looking to spend a night in his company just for the later bragging rights, others looking to fulfill some sort of bizarre erotic fantasy - he’d taken up plenty of those offers, and turned down even more. Boba Fett was a man who enjoyed sex, and he made no secret of the fact that he had been scoping the lounge for a prospective bedpartner after the meeting with Lieutenant Sheckil and his graysuits. That wretched smuggler Solo had a date with a carbonite chamber tomorrow evening after he and Vader’s planned ambush at the Administrator’s Palace in the morning, and Fett fully intended to vent some excess energy tonight before finally collecting on the barve’s hefty bounty. It was back to Jabba’s afterwards, and more bounties to collect on, and even less downtime. Fett enjoyed his life of solitude, practically thrived on it, but still… he was only human, and he had his needs. 

 What he hadn’t expected was being cornered and propositioned by a willing and eager virgin. And such a pretty thing, too. This was a first, and he had to admit he was already getting hard at the thought of teaching this naïf how to please a man, to be the one to take her like nobody had before, to show her just who exactly she was dealing with.

  “ Well … aren’t you a bold one.” He finally exhaled, still avoiding any semblance of eye contact with you, his focus seeming to be on stirring the cubes around his drink. You swallowed thickly, watching Fett’s index finger push the straw back and forth. He hadn’t touched the drink at all, but you didn’t care. You wanted that finger in your mouth, down your throat, glove and all, but shook yourself from the daydream when it occurred to you that Fett was watching, waiting for a response. 

  “I’ve found that fortune favors the bold.” You pushed yourself into the chair opposite him, trying to conceal how badly your legs were wobbling. You had waded chest-deep into completely unknown territory, and you felt as if you were going to faint at any moment if you didn’t take a seat. To emphasize your point, you reached out and grasped the drink you had sent to his table just minutes ago, tipping your head back and draining half of it in one swig. Your head swimming from the sudden rush of hard liquor, you settled the container back on the polished wood and steadied your gaze on the bounty hunter. Fett cocked his helmet at you, an amused snort emanating from underneath, a static edge to it thanks to the vocoder that helped conceal his voice. He laid his forearms on the table, leaning his upper body forward towards you, the posture of a gossiping schoolboy, mocking and insolent.

  “And what makes you think I’d want to be the one to break you in, vaar’ika ?”

  He almost purred the question, sickly sweet. There was no outright malice there, no, but he was teasing you; you could hear the laughter in his voice. You could tell he thought you were nothing but a stupid little girl who didn’t know what she was getting herself into, and it shamed you into silence. You felt your throat tightening, your eyes starting to burn, and you begged yourself, ‘ Don’t you dare start crying and prove him right. You know what you came here for. Don’t you dare. ’ But it was much easier said than done, and your attempt to coax yourself out of this panic only seemed to deepen it. You came this close to fulfilling your fantasy, you could have practically reached out and touched it, but it all had to fall to pieces because you were really nothing but a blubbering baby. You weren’t worthy of being with Boba Fett, and it had been a pipedream to think so even for a moment. 

  “I… I-I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know what I was thinking , coming here. I’ve made an ass of myself and I’ve completely wasted your time, I’m so sorry -”

  Your eyes brimming with embarrassed tears, hot and heavy on your lashes and threatening to spill over at any moment, you ducked your head and pushed the chair out as quickly as you could, moving to brush past the still-seated bounty hunter and make a break for it out into the cool night air. With a harsh gasp, you felt yourself suddenly being jerked back by the elbow, almost stumbling with the force of the pull. Boba Fett’s gauntleted hand was gripping your arm in an iron hold, the black void of his visor locked onto your face. There was no way to tell, of course, and you couldn’t say how you knew, but you could have sworn he was smiling at you.

  “ I didn’t say no , little one . Tell me again what you want of me.” Fett intoned evenly, but not unkindly, releasing his hold on you. To your shock, he ran his hand down your arm as he let you go, and it almost felt - of all things - reassuring . Arousal pooled to your core so quickly at Fett’s surprisingly soft touch and tone that it took you a few extra moments to even register what he had said.

 ‘He didn’t say no. It wasn’t possible. Does he actually want to? ...And he called me ‘little one.’

  You could have died then and there, on the plush carpeted floor of the Paradise Atrium, but your words found you, every ounce of courage in your frame flooding through your veins at once.

  “Take me back to your ship. Let me give myself to you. I want to be yours tonight… only yours. Please .” You laid a trembling hand on his wrist, still expecting to be violently brushed away, told to back off and go home if you knew what was good for you, threatened with disintegration or a blaster shot to the chest or something . But the harsh gesture or violent threat never came. The scarred green helmet tilted downwards to regard your fingers clutching at the armor, and after a quiet beat, Boba Fett’s gaze returned yours. Although you couldn’t see the eyes hidden behind that dark, T-shaped visor, you could feel them burrowing into your very soul, sweeping over you greedily, like a prize to be taken. Shivers rippled up your arms and your stomach rolled, but you weren’t afraid. Not anymore. Silently, you withdrew your fingers, letting your hands fall limply to your sides, and Fett nodded, seemingly satisfied with your plea. 

  “As you wish, nehutyc’ika. Come, then.” With that, Boba Fett stood in one swift motion, and held one palm out for you to take, open and inviting.

  You felt as if you’d been kicked in the chest. You were instantly sober, any trace of alcohol from the night’s earlier wallowing fully flushed from your system by the influx of adrenaline currently screaming through your body. Your skin felt like it was on fire, and for a brief moment you wondered if he was playing with you, if this were some sort of sick joke, but you knew in the deepest recess of your heart that it wasn’t. He was serious. He’d made a career out of not backing down on deals. Boba Fett was a man of his word. 

  So you took his hand and let yourself be spirited away into the night by a figure from your best daydreams, and from other creatures’ worst nightmares.

[muchadoaboutbucky]

all the time in the world | oneshot

PAIRING: Bucky Barnes x Native American!Reader WORD COUNT: 3,954 WARNINGS: slow burn, eventual smut, fluff, minor injury NOTE: Imagine if Bucky hadn’t been injured in Civil War and went on the run with everyone else. The reader’s face claim is Crystle Lightning. I also used Sebastian’s “Destroyer” look for inspiration as well. Enjoy!

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I do not consent to minors (17-) reading my work.

It’s been six months since Siberia. Six long, rough months of dodging the government and living off the grid. No phones, no computers, no connection to the outside world other than the daily newspapers you manage to pick up. 

Living in close quarters isn’t the easiest. The jet doesn’t have the best sleeping quarters, just five open bunks on the lower level. The other two have become storage, a cluttered mess of papers and empty weapons boxes and ammunition that has yet to be organized. 

It doesn’t help that you and Bucky have become a little more than friends.

He’s become different since you went on the run. He’s quiet, broody, and absolutely merciless when it comes to getting a mission done. To say the sight of the former assassin taking down the bad guys with nothing but a couple weapons and his bare metal hand doesn’t get you all kinds of riled up. 

The five of you have just finished up a weekend in Portugal. A weapons bust had gone almost perfectly to plan, with the small exception of you getting a bullet graze on your thigh from one of the barely-alive arms dealers on your way out the door. You’d hit the ground hard, and before you could say anything or make a move to recover, Bucky scooped you off the ground and took the fire escape all the way up to the roof and into the jet without a second glance back.

Fortunately the medical bay’s been fully restocked, and Nat quickly gets you on the examining table while Sam takes off, the jet’s cloaking technology vanishing instantly into the dark three-am sky.

“Suit off,” Nat directs, reaching into one of the storage cupboards for a prepped cleaning kit. You strip out of your suit, wincing as the fabric grazes your wound. Natasha bends to examine the wound, gently pressing along the edges with a gloved finger.

“No stitches, please,” you mutter.

“Nope, you won’t need those.” Nat grabs an antiseptic wipe. “Just some bandages and you’ll need to take it easy for a couple days.”

You grumble. “Gross.”

“Could be worse.” Nat dabs the antiseptic wipe along the thin red line of your injury, and you wince, trying not to jerk away. “So… you and Barnes, huh?”

You frown, glancing down at the shimmer of her red hair. “What?”

She chuckles. “He carried you outta there like his ass was on fire. You two’ve been dancing around each other for a couple months.”

Your cheeks flush hot. “We just… it’s complicated.”

“How complicated can it be?” She smiles. “Two people like each other, they go out on a couple dates, maybe they fall in love.”

“It’s not like we have a lot in common,” you explain. “It’s just fooling around, right now, at least.”

If ‘fooling around’ counts as the time he pinned you up against the side of the jet and kissed the shit out of you with his thigh between your legs… or the time he’d waited for everyone else to be occupied with organizing the weapons closet before tugging your panties aside and sliding two fingers deep inside—

“You don’t have to bond over all the bad stuff.” She tosses the wipe into the trash and peels the wrapping off a patch of gauze. “Maybe you have small similarities. Maybe you both like chocolate, maybe you used to go to the same park as kids. It’s the little things.”

As slick and smart as she is, Natasha has no idea about the dirty things you and Bucky have done in the dark.

“I’m just not sure it would work.” You peer down when she lays a pair of large Band-Aids over the patch of gauze. “He’s a little more rough around the edges than I am, he’s still adjusting to this whole modern-life thing, I’m not sure saying ‘hey, you wanna be my boyfriend’ in the middle of it would be smart.”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Oh please, he knows what he wants, he’s just afraid to ask for it. Men are like that.”

The privacy curtain slides back, and you and Natasha look up so fast you both nearly get whiplash. Bucky’s standing there, eyes wide as he takes in the full sight of you sitting on the table, clothed only in a plain black bra and panties. 

“Oh.” He swallows, and his cheeks flush bright red. “Never mind, I was just—”

Natasha grins. “Barnes, if you have something to say—”

The curtain swishes shut, and the heavy tread of his boots fades away. You giggle, raising a hand to cover your mouth. He’s never seen you this degree of undressed before, much less seen a naked woman in the last several decades. 

“Teach him how to knock,” Natasha jokes, sweeping the used kit into the trash and tugging her gloves off. “I’ll grab you some clothes, we don’t need all the men stroking out from seeing a pair of boobs.”

***

You emerge from the medical room dressed in a pair of pajama shorts and a tee shirt. Steve and Sam are settled comfortably in the pilots’ seats, and Natasha herself has changed into flannel pants and a one of the tee shirts she’s stolen from Sam. 

Bucky’s nowhere to be found.

“We’ll find somewhere to land in a couple hours,”  Steve says, glancing back at you. “How’s your leg, kid?”

“Hurts, but I’ve had worse.” You offer a smile before turning to Nat. “Where’s Bucky?” you ask her silently. 

“Downstairs,” she replies, the corner of her mouth turning up into a little smirk. “Alone.”

You roll your eyes, cheeks burning as you head to the descending ladder for the lower level. Bucky’s sitting on the floor, earphones on, eyes closed. He somehow hears you approach, because he opens his eyes and reaches up to pull the scuffed headphones off and pause the old cassette player clutched in his left hand.

You’re so used to him being big and strong and dominant. Now he just seems… weary. A side you don’t see very often.

“Hi.” You slide down to sit next to him. “It’s late, Nat and I are going to bed, you should wash up and get some rest.”

“I’m not tired,” he replies softly. 

“Are you worried about walkin’ in on me half naked?” you ask, reaching up to run your fingers through the longer hair at the top of his head. Since almost shaving it off, it’s grown back, and he almost looks like he used to back in his time.

His cheeks flush. “You were a little more than half naked.”

“It’s not a problem, I didn’t mind.” You rest your head on his shoulder. “You look exhausted, you should really get some rest.”

“I’m not tired.” Bucky sets the cassette player and headphones on the floor next to him. “Been trying to get some alone time with you for a long time, and tonight when you went down… I just got a lot of ‘what if’s’ goin’ on in my head.”

You hum. “I’m fine. My leg hurts and Nat’s gonna kill me if I don’t take it easy, but—”

“I wanna take you somewhere.” He turns to face you. “I hate dancin’ around like this, and I get that it’s risky for us to be… involved, or whatever we’re trying to be, but…” he swipes his tongue over his lower lip, “I think we deserve one night where we aren’t gonna be sleeping in these stupid bunks. Just you and me.”

You wrap your fingers through his warm metal ones. “We do have that tent in the storage cupboard… we could make a camping night of it?”

He sighs. “I want a real bed. In a real… house, or hotel, or whatever, but I wanna be alone with you. We deserve that, we’ve been playing back and forth for the last six months and I’m tired of it.”

Smiling, you press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “What else do you want?”

He lets out a soft breath before tipping his head back against the wall. “I wanna make love to you, and I can’t do that in a stupid little bunk where three other people can see us.”

You stifle a flustered giggle in his chest. “We can still fool around, Bucky.”

He grunts, dissatisfied. “Can’t you pretend your leg is worse than it is and they can drop us off somewhere?”

“I don’t know, they’ve seen me walking just fine.”

“You could be in shock and not know how bad it is.”

“Bucky.” You slide onto his lap and cup his face. “I’ve been in shock before, several times, and I’m not in shock.”

He smiles lazily, skimming his hands up your sides. “Really? You look a little cold.”

“Because we’re at fifteen-thousand feet,” you kiss him softly, wincing when your bandage pulls, “and Sam’s slacking on fixing the temperature regulator.”

“Maybe I should take you somewhere with a fireplace.” He peers at you through the dim light. “I could do a lot with that.”

“Oh yeah?” You run a finger over his cheek. “Like what?”

He grins wolfishly. “Put some blankets out in front of the fire… get you all warm and toasty before I make love to you.”

You bite your lip, shifting on his lap. “Bucky…”

“Hmm?”

“Hearing you talk about making love to me isn’t making the fact that I really want that right now any better.”

He chuckles. “I can be quick, you know that.”

“I’m not having our first time on the jet floor.” You stand up, pulling on his metal arm. “Come on, let’s get some sleep.”

He stands obediently, eyes raking up your bare thighs and the bandage on as he rises. “You know, you look really hot with a bandage on your thigh.”

“Oh, so you’re glad I got shot?”

“I didn’t say that.” He wraps his arms around your waist. “I mean I like seein’ you with things on your thighs. Holsters… those thigh-high socks you wore a month ago, that made me…” he shivers and digs his fingers into your hips.

“Freak,” you giggle. “Bucky, if you don’ let me go...”

He raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Mmm.” You slip a teasing finger into his belt.

He grins, slowly backing you up until your shoulders press against the steel wall. In a playful attempt to duck away, you try to slip just to his left, and warm metal wraps around your arm, pinning you firmly in place. 

“Hold on,” he mutters, “you think you can just do that and walk away?”

You let out a long, soft moan when he presses his lips to yours, stepping up so close you can feel the firm heat of his body. Your fingers twist in his shirt, and he slots a knee between your thighs, careful to avoid your injured one as flesh fingers twist into your hair. He hums when you give an instinctual push of your hips against the rough fabric of his pants, and you 

“Better rest up, then, honey.”

You giggle when he lands a firm swat on your ass and scamper up the ladder, heaving yourself onto the upper level with Bucky close behind you. The grin on Bucky’s face earns you a quizzical look from Sam, but you roll your eyes and head down to your bunk, making sure that nobody can see before stretching up on your toes and giving Bucky a goodnight kiss. 

***

The jolt of the jet landing just over four hours later wakes you. You sit up, almost banging your head on the top of your bunk, and curse Sam for winning Rock Paper Scissors for the top one. You emerge blearily, shoving your privacy curtain aside with a grimace as a ray of sunlight smacks you in the face.

“Ow,” you mutter as Sam drops down from the bunk above you, “what time is it?”

“It’s late morning,” Steve replies, emerging from the cockpit. “We’re in Austria. Found us a place to lay low for a couple days. We’re gonna have to do a little bit of hiking and wear disguises when we check in, but the jet’s on stealth mode. Town’s about a twenty-minute walk away.”

Town. Thank God.

The four of you stumble around, stuffing things into your bags and checking your nanomasks before stepping off the jet. It’s a brisk morning, and you tug a jacket over your shoulders as you take in your surroundings. 

Steve’s touched down in a large field of flowers. The jet’s invisible to your eye when the hatch closes, and you set off to the East, keeping your heads low as you head into a more-populated area and onto busy streets. There’s a market across from the closest hotel, and you make a note to sneak out and get some of the pretty fruits and breads on display.

When you get up to the counter, Steve shoves a wad of cash from his duffel bag at the attendant and asks for two rooms, which you get with a three-night guarantee.

“Okay,” Sam murmurs once you’re in the elevator heading up to your floor, “who shares with who? I’m not havin’ Barnes hogging all the covers again.”

“Mmm, you won’t.” Natasha slips you a sly look. “Barnes and Y/N together, I’ll share with Steve, so you, Sam, can have all the covers you want.”

You cast a quick glance at Bucky and find his cheeks stained bright pink. “That’s fine,” you cover when he fails to respond, “we’re gonna get some rest anyway.”

Nat smirks when the elevator doors slide open, and you roll your eyes before accepting the key card Steve offers you. “Sure, sure,” she replies, “make sure it’s a good rest.”

You give her a playful glare as she follows Steve and Sam into their room and closes the door, leaving you and Bucky to slip into your room across the hall with burning faces.

It’s definitely not the biggest—or best—room that you’ve ever stayed in, but it’ll do the trick. The bed is king-sized, with several lumpy-looking pillows stacked on a thin white comforter. You set your bag down on the floor and toe off your boots, stretching your arms over your head while Bucky goes to inspect the bathroom. 

“It’s not bad,” he calls out, “just a shower stall, no tub.”

“That’s good enough for me.” You tug a fresh set of clothes out of your duffel and snag your almost-empty toiletries from the front pocket. “You wanna go first, or…”

“Nah, you.” He runs a hand up your back and leans in to press his lips against yours. “I’m gonna try and get some shut-eye. I never sleep well on the jet.”

You hum against his mouth, grateful for the sudden solitude. “I’ll be out in fifteen. Knock if you need anything, ‘kay?”

He smiles and slumps down on the bed, watching you slip into the bathroom and leave the door slightly ajar. 

The water pressure isn’t too bad. It’s been a few days since you’ve been able to properly clean up, and your hair gets washed thoroughly, pits get shaved, well… everything that isn’t permanently done gets shaved, and you emerge from the steam-filled shower dressed in panties and a tee shirt, towel held to the now-exposed wound on your thigh. Bucky’s stretched out on the bed, a pillow tucked under his head, eyes closed. The medical kit’s in his bag, and you tug it free and watch one crystal-blue eye open as you perch on the edge of the bed.

“How’s that?” His eyes rake over the bare skin of your thigh as you pull it away to inspect the slowly-scabbing graze. 

“Healing.” You gently poke at the angry bruise along the side and wince. “I still need to bandage it.”

Bucky sighs, watching you tug out a roll of gauze and tape. “Want some help with that?”

You smile gladly in return. “Please?”

“You got it.” He slides off the bed and reaches for the paper-wrapped supplies. Nimble fingers tear open the packets, and you lean back as he kneels on the carpet, flesh hand gently splayed out against your knee as he gently lowers a folded strip of cause to cover the exposed flesh. Medical tape snaps off between his teeth, and you watch him lay four strips, one on each side until he’s satisfied that your injury is sufficiently protected. 

“Thanks.” You reach over and rub the top of his head. “So walking in on me in just my bra and panties didn’t… that didn’t bother you?”

He chuckles. “No, it didn’t bother me. Just surprised me.”

You giggle. “Really? ‘Cause you looked like a total virgin.”

“Shush.” He kisses your knee and gazes up at you, eyes wide and almost deceivingly innocent. “Not a virgin, honey, just… you look hot in that suit, and seeing you out of it was… a shock. Good shock.”

***

The rest of the day passes slowly, with you and Bucky dozing in and out of naps until Sam knocks on the door, asking if Bucky wants to go to the market outside. You watch him leave, donning his nanomask and swiping a couple bills from the plastic bag he keeps in his duffel before slipping out the door. 

He’s back in an hour, carrying a large paper bag full of what looks like bread and fruit and all kinds of goodies. You eat slowly, sneaking kisses between bites of fresh, juicy watermelon for a mock-dessert. 

Around six, Natasha comes by, inviting you to the other room for a much better dinner of pizza and drinks… which, as it turns out, hasn’t even been delivered yet. You and Bucky spend the first ten minutes enduring innuendo from Natasha, which Steve is quick to defend, although he snorts at one comment about peaches that makes Bucky choke on his bottle of ale.

The pizza finally arrives, three boxes to cater to two supersoldier appetites, and you’re able to unwind, laughing and joking and teasing each other until it’s late and Sam starts to yawn incessantly. You and Bucky make an excuse for being tired as well, and Natasha watches you leave with a glimmer in her eye as the door swings shut.

The moment you and Bucky are safely tucked in the seclusion of your room, he pulls you into his arms and plants a warm, sweet kiss on your lips.

“Baby,” he breathes, “we only got three nights here and I… I wanna take you, tonight…”

You giggle. “Bucky, we’re not in your time anymore. You can tell me what you want.”

He swallows, metal fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt. “I wanna make love with you.”

You roll your eyes and wind your arms around his neck. “Is that all?”

He grumbles. “Baby, you’re making it harder than it needs to be.”

“Sorry.” You stretch up on your toes and kiss him again, hips rubbing deliciously against his. “Only thing I need to be hard is this… and looks like you’re way ‘head of me.”

Bucky groans, breaking away to tug your shirt over your head. “If you keep doing that, you’re not gonna feel it for a while.”

You bite your lip, watching him strip his own shirt and toss it to the ground. Before you can do anything else, he lifts you up, careful to avoid your injured thigh, and lays you out on the bed, reaching for your pajama shorts and tugging them down to leave you in just a plain pair of panties. 

Now he’s nervous, you can see it in his eyes. He’s had you open before, got his fingers wet inside your pussy, and kissed the shit out of you until you could barely breathe, but he’s never had you completely naked and exposed.

“Hey.” You reach for his hand, guiding it to the little blue bow between your hips. “It’s okay, baby.”

He chuckles, easing his fingers beneath the elastic and watching with held breath as he teases them down, letting them fall off the edge of the bed with a soft pat. His palms smooth down the insides of your thighs, spreading you open, and when he trails the pad of his thumb over your clit and you press your hips up to get closer, he lets out a strangled groan and curls over you, completely helpless. 

Your hands push at his sweats, and you giggle when he clumsily kicks them down over his feet, leaving himself completely bare for you as well. When your fingers drift to wrap around his thick, heavy shaft, he stops, gritting his teeth against the side of your neck.

“Baby…” he clears his throat, raising his head to look at you. “We’re not movin’ too fast, right?”

“Don’t get soft on me,” you reply, “we’re good, Bucky, I’m happy, I wanna feel you…”

He nods, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “Good, it’s just… it’s been a long time and—”

“Shhh.” You rub your hands over his hips. “I don’t care, I just want you.”

Bucky’s eyes darken, and he reaches down to grab himself, experimentally running the swollen tip of his cock through yout pussy until he finds your opening, and you grab on tight, a cry of pleasure dying in your throat as he pumps his hips forward and sinks in. 

“Ahh, fuck—” he grunts quietly against your lips when your nails dig into his ass, “baby…”

You can’t even find the words to reply. He’s so deep, thick and hot and pulsing inside where your body grips him tight. All you can do is give a little tug, trying to urge him on, and he gives you what you want without question. 

All sense of awkwardness or anxiety melts away as he props himself up on both arms, watching your body roll and move under his as he searches a rhythm, inexperience getting the better of him when his hips stutter and slide. He finds it, a steady, rough beat back and forth that makes your clit rub against the skin above his cock and high-pitched sighs and whimpers to rattle in your throat.

“C’mere,” he pants, hooking his flesh arm under your shoulders to keep you close, and you brace yourself as his thrusts grow hard enough for your bodies to slap together. It’s been so long since you’ve been able to feel this good that when his lips find one nipple and latch on, your body decides to follow its own path. 

All it takes for you to cum is a few quick rolls of your clit under your fingers, and Bucky lets out a choked gasp when he feels the rapid contractions, burying his face in the crook of your neck and matching your moans with his own, panting harder and louder as he stutters, pushes in as far and hard as he can, and cums with a growl that resonates deep in your soul as you wrap your legs tight around his waist.

You come back to reality slowly, sweaty bodies sticking as he drops down over you, pressing a lazy kiss to your lips. 

“That was fast,” he murmurs, “sorry, baby, I couldn’t—”

“It’s okay.” You run your fingers through his hair. “It’s been a long time for me too, it was… that was good.”

“Good.” He chuckles and pulls away, watching the first dribble of white slide from your core. “We got three more days to make it longer, huh?”

“Yeah.” You reach for his hand, fingers intertwining with his. “Right now, we have all the time in the world.”

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[pretend-writer]

All Or Nothing (Peter Parker x reader)

Summary:  Y/N has been suspicious of her boyfriend, Peter lately and is trying to find some answers.

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Title Reference: All or Nothing x O-Town

Word Count:  1.3k words

Warning:  mention of violence and blood, swearing

✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤

Life was amazing, I couldn't ask for better years in college. I've met the love of my life, Peter was everything I've ever imagined and more. He always prioritized me, cared for me. I honestly didn't know if I ever deserved him.

Lately, it had been different.

Ever since we started our third year of college, he was always gone. I'd probably see him once a week if I was lucky, that was only in class.

Peter would sometimes come back with bruises everywhere. One time I woke up in the middle of the night and saw him in the bathroom wiping blood off his face.

All the sudden changes had me thinking what he wrapped himself into. Especially when Peter claimed that he started some internship for his class.

Of course I wanted to ask questions, but I didn't want to pry. I didn't want to be the girlfriend that was in his business all the time. He was old enough to take care of himself.

That made me imagine some horrible things, what was he doing in the middle of the night? Why was he missing classes? Why did I feel like he wasn't my boyfriend anymore?

Time to time, he promised me he'd be there and he wasn't. Our planned dates, our study session that we desperately needed to pass our class, Peter was gone more than he was here.

The one time he finally showed up he was disorganized, his papers flying everywhere, forgetting his writing materials, Peter even looked like he didn't sleep at all.

'Do you have everything we need to study?' I asked him as he took a seat. We figured we would get a private study room inside our library, we needed all the quiet time we could get.

'Ah-uhm. I think so.' Peter laid a bunch of papers on the ground, looking through all of them to see which one he needed for this specific chapter. 'Was it this one?'

'Peter, the test is tomorrow. Please tell me you're kidding me.' I sighed, 'If you don't pass this test, you're going to have to take this class again next semester.'

He immediately apologized, 'It's just I've been so busy.'

'You're always busy, Peter.'

'I know, I'm sorry.'

The room became practically silent, the only sounds were my pen clicking and Peter shaking his legs. It was weird to feel awkward with my boyfriend, it was as if Peter wasn't Peter anymore.

'What's going on lately, Peter?' I asked in a soft tone. I was worried about him, his mind was everywhere but here. I'd hate it if whatever that was happening to him got him kicked out of college.

He bit his lips, shaking stopped when I asked him that question. Maybe whatever I said to him triggered him, like he was avoiding this question for so long.

Peter paused for a bit, studying my facial expression. I could tell that he felt guilty about hiding whatever secret he kept from me. But of course, he wouldn't say.

'It's the internship. They've got me out all night.'

'Are these company beating you up? Abusing you?' It was concerning, I hated seeing Peter all bruised up the few times I would meet with him.

'No! Oh, no. Of course not.' He stood up, watching my eyes slowly getting watery. Peter grabbed onto my hand, it was a touch I was familiar with. 'I didn't mean to make you feel like this, I'm sorry.'

'I hate seeing you like this, Peter. You're tired, you're hurt every time, the black eye, the bruises everywhere-' I held my breath as I held onto his hand. 'So what's really going on Peter?'

It was his last chance, the chance to tell me everything. I wanted him to trust me, whatever he was going through I wanted to be there for him.

Peter shifted his eye away from me, staring at his feet under the table. He refused to make eye contact with me but it was so obvious; Peter knew that too.

'I-I can't tell you.'

'Why? Why can't you? I'm just worried about you and-' The thought of his injuries kept replaying in my head. 'If I come back to your dorm one night and see you unconscious or even worse, I don't kn-'

Peter frowned, jumping up as I said those words. 'Baby, I promise you. Nothing bad is going to happen to me. Please trust me.'

'I do trust you but I don't trust whatever you're doing outside campus.'

It finally felt good to say it out loud, all the worries and pain that I felt watching him struggle everyday hurt so bad. I wanted him to know that I cared for him and I just wanted the best for him.

'You don't tru-' Peter stumbled on his words, shocked and sad. 'W-what are you trying to say?'

'I don't know but I can't deal with this pain anymore Peter.' I sniffled, trying to hide my tears from him. 'I get you can't tell me but if I don't know anything, I can't help you.'

'But you don't have to help me, I got this.'

'And I'm just supposed to watch you get bruised up by something or someone I don't even know about? Watch you spit out blood from your mouth before you come to bed? I can't do that, Peter. I can't.'

Peter had nothing to say, clenching his fist and not knowing what else could make you feel at ease. But there was nothing; he needed to keep something a secret.

'I don't know what I'll do if I lose you, Y/N.'

'Then tell me, please. So at least I'll know a general idea of what's going on with your life.'

'Nothing's going to change even if I tell you.'

'It'll change me, Peter.' I cried, practically begging for the pain to go away. 'It'll help me feel better if I knew. That sounds selfish, I know but I don't know what else.'

Peter didn't move a muscle, he just sat on the chair watching me as I cried.

'Do you know how it feels to not even see you everyday Peter? I miss you. On top of that the times I do see you, you're not yourself. Instead you come back with more blood all over your body.'

He sat there, his tears starting to fall down his cheeks. Even with all of that, he still had not said anything.

'Please say something.'

'I don't know what else to say but I'm sorry.' Peter wiped his tears as he adjusted himself on the seat. 'I hate that I'm making you feel like this but I-I can't tell you. At least not yet.'

'So what am I supposed to do?'

Peter shrugged, shaking his head as he was as confused as I was. He wanted to help, I knew that and I could tell he did. But nothing helped my situation and it didn't help his either.

'I'm just trying to protect you, you know that right?'

'Protect me from what, Peter? What's so bad that you have to keep this a secret?'

His phone suddenly rang loudly, echoing through the small room. Peter looked at it and then looked at me. 'I-I have to go, Y/N.'

'Of course you do.' I didn't mean to sound the way I did. I was tired of this and hurting all over again. This repetitiveness and stress just hurt so much, I just wanted it to be over.

Peter frowned, feeling terrible about everything. He didn't know what else to do to make me feel better. 'Will I see you when I get back?'

'I-I don't know.'

He swallowed the lump in his throat, biting his lip as he held more tears in. Peter grabbed only his backpack and his phone, leaving me with nothing but his class papers and the pain that never went away.

[pascal-isaac]

his angel.

Abel Morales x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: 18+ NSFW! Smut/Sex

Summary: You were Abel’s angel, his saving grace and breath of fresh air after his divorce. You loved him- but did he love you?

A/N: For @santiagogarcia I’m your secret Oscar valentines and I hope you enjoy this! Part of @sergeantkane ‘s Oscar fandom fic exchange!

It started with a shirt- his shirt.

Abel Morales was your boss, freshly divorced and stressed out of his mind. He hired you as a housekeeper and nanny for when he had the girls every other weekend- and you were his saving grace. After his divorce from Anna he hit a roadblock, he was late to work often, frequently missing something that he needed, and his clothes were a mess. But that’s where you came in. You made his life easier, cooking for him to make sure he ate because in his daze of a life he often forgot. You knew where everything was, knew what he needed before he even asked. And you did the laundry. Which is where his soft white button down shirt came in.

“Where is-“ Abel rifled through the folded laundry, Just on the cusp of being late- looking for a specific item when you came in- holding it in front for him and smiling softly.

“Thanks sweetheart.” He took it from you- large warm fingers brushing against your own as he smiled. He always smiled. Always thanked you because without you he’s sure he’d be lost, dirty, drunk and starving. He winked and walked into his bedroom, but didn’t close the door all the way. A crack. A peek into his room that you had- and saw him start to strip off his sleep shirt. Soft stomach almost begging to be touched, toned back desperate for you to mark, and a chest that cried out for you to rest your head on. After working for him for so long you realized something soon after. You loved your boss. Once he started to work at his pants you left, you shouldn’t see more- you wanted him to willingly show you.

Abel couldn’t have you. He told himself as much. No matter how much you put him back together he didn’t deserve you. And you didn’t need him to come in your life and ruin it the way he did with Anna- no you deserved better. He was older, he wasn’t a good man. And you needed a good man. But he couldn’t deny how he gravitated towards you, you were kind and gentle and he found himself wanting more.

“Do you want anything specific for dinner?” You called from the kitchen, plating his breakfast and making his coffee exactly how he liked- something that surprised him because you got it perfect every time.

“No sweetheart,” his nickname that made your face heat up, you heart race, “I’m gonna pull some long hours tonight. Don’t wait up for me, I’ll be home late- you should rest tonight.” He came from his room, adjusting his cufflinks and coming up in front of you. He fixed his hair, pushed back and soft, you wanted to touch and rub your hands through it. He put his hand on your cheek, rubbing softly- a habit he recently picked up, soothing himself more than you. Slowly you leaned into his touch but pulled back, he was your boss.

After his breakfast he left, taking the lunch you made him and leaving you with a quick kiss on your forehead and a smile. It didn’t mean anything. You told yourself it didn’t mean anything. He was being kind and sweet like you knew him to be. You busied yourself for the rest of the day, changing his sheets and the girl’s in preparation for their visit this weekend. You washed towels, dishes- and his laundry. You saw that same button up. Crisp, white, clean and very Abel. No matter how many times you washed it- his cologne lingered. A smell that was him, musky, sweet, and gentle. Slowly you lifted it to your face and inhaled, a soft sigh leaving you because you imagined being near him, being so close to the real thing. You imagined him warm in your arms.

You shook your head, trying to rid yourself of the idea that you could have him as anything other than your boss. You knew he said he’d be home late but you still made him dinner, if he came home late he’d be hungry. He needed to take care of himself, and you figured you can take care of him this way. Making sure he eats and giving him love he hardly showed to himself. Once it was ready you made him a plate, wrapped it up to keep warm, and put it in the oven for him to enjoy later. You ate, sat in the living room and flipped through the TV- bored. Abel was usually your source of entertainment. When he was home he talked to you, he was never too tired to talk to you and tell you about his day- it was the highlight of his, all the moments he spent with you were the highlight.

“Fuck it…” you got up, shutting the TV off and walking over to the laundry room. Against your better judgment you shucked off your clothes and pulled on his white button up, soft and smooth against your skin. Then you went back into the living room, thumbing through the records he had until you found something that he often listened to- Sinatra. Maybe you wanted to imagine how a night with him would go, but nothing would be complete without a glass of his favorite scotch. After a full glass you poured another- the alcohol in your veins and easing you to sway along to the soft vocals. It made you feel good, made you feel loose and needy for Abel behind you- for him to guide you hips and pull you close into his solid chest. The music drowned out everything around you, the alcohol made you feel as if nothing mattered but your own thoughts- not even the sound of his car pulling up pulled you away.

“Having a party?” A deep voice called behind you. You didn’t hear the car. You didn’t hear his keys unlocking the door. And you didn’t hear his amused chuckle when he slowly put his coat on the hook. You gasped- turning quickly and trying to cover yourself with your hands. His shirt was short- barely skimming your thighs to conceal the fact that you didn’t have your underwear on under.

“A-Abel…” Your voice shook. He was surprised to see you like this. Seeing his shirt on your body unlocked some feral urge- like you were his and he claimed you as such. He smiled darkly, taking off his suit jacket slowly, eyeing your body again with a swipe of his tongue against his lower lip and a soft bite.

“P-please don’t fire me.” You said, barely above a whisper. He moved slowly, like a predator circling his prey- teasing almost. He shook his head, almost silencing you while he sat on the couch, large hands grabbing your abandoned glass and downing the rest of your drink in one long swallow- using his thumbs to wipe his mouth and chuckling. He patted his thigh- beckoning you to obey him.

“Come here sweetheart.” His voice was rough, deeper than usual- and commanding you in a way that you never knew it could. And you obeyed. Slowly you crossed the room towards him, careful and cautious- as if he might change his mind if you moved too quickly. How much did you actually drink? Is this actually happening? Once you stood in front of him, his hand slowly reached for the hem of his shirt, rubbing the stitching gently and raising his eyebrows in a silent asking if you could deem him worthy enough to touch your skin- and you nodded, almost ready to beg for him.

Rough calloused hands traced up your thighs, settling right under the swell of your ass when he grabbed, dragging you forward and into his lap. You didn’t have time to react- didn’t have time to even gasp because your chest was against his and you could feel how hard he was because there was nothing between the rough fabric of his pants and your bare cunt.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you like this angel…” he whispered into your neck, hands dragging up your waist and over the fabric that covered your breasts. Moaning softly, you slowly started to grind into him, catching on the seam of his zipper. This was definitely a dream- you passed out from the alcohol and this was a dream. Only it was too real- his lips felt real against your neck, his hands felt real and heavy on your waist, and his voice was real and rough in your ear.

“Do you want me baby?” He asked, pulling himself away from your neck and staring into your eyes with his large brown ones, long soft eyelashes fluttering softly. “Will you be good for me?” He asked, leaning forward and nipping at your jaw. You couldn’t answer, you just nodded and buried your hands into his soft hair, it was softer than you imagined.

“I need to hear it,” he begged, hands grabbing at your ass and dragging you into the bulge of his cock, “I need to hear that you want me sweetheart.”

“Yes-“ you whined, finally kissing his lips and moaning into it, “yes Abel I want you.” You gasped, the way his heavy palms kneaded your flesh and pulled you flush against him. He groaned into your lips, letting his tongue explore your mouth and fully wanted to consume you. You had no thoughts other than Abel- nothing else mattered in this moment other than how he was making you feel and he made you good. One hand pulled away from your ass and dragged up the front of his shirt that you wore, opening each button slowly, almost torturously slow. When he had it open to his liking his hand slid under the fabric, thumb brushing along your nipples as his lips trailed along your jaw. You could feel yourself growing wetter by the second- feel how his pants were growing damp under you.

“Can I taste you?” His kiss bruised your lips while he begged “please baby let me see how good you taste.” Giving him permission he moaned, turning you both on the couch where he laid you under him. He looked at you starved, eyes blown wide with so much lust you only saw how deep and black his pupils were. He leaned down and one arm went to rest flat and barely touched your clit. The delicate and sensitive inner flesh of your thighs brushed against his ears and you moaned softly, the intimacy of it almost too much. His other hand bent between your bodies, separating your folds for him to use his tongue. The first swipe of his tongue caught you off guard, letting out a cry so loud you think the neighbors heard.

Abel wasted no time completely drowning himself in your taste. His lips attached themselves to your clit, sucking and ever so slightly grazing his teeth against it. His fingers that kept you open for him shifted lower to collect the wetness from your entrance, then pushing forward to bury himself knuckle deep inside you. The sudden change in pleasure caused you to lift up with force, gasping for air. His arm around your hips sunk low and pushed you down, trapping you in the intense heat from his mouth. Your knees were pushed up towards your chest, almost touching your cheeks. You were folded under him with no escape from pleasure.

“Abel!” you gasped- rolling your hips up into his mouth when he added another finger. He pulled himself from your clit, wetness gathered at his chin, dazed smile on his wet lips.

“Come on angel...” he groaned, nipping at the skin on your hip, fingers slowly pushing in and out of your aching heat. You cried out, hands running into his hair and gripping tightly, pulling him roughly against you, his mouth licking around his fingers that disappeared into your tight hole. You felt waves creeping up from deep within your core as he brushed against the spot that you barely knew existed. He moaned in between your thighs, grinding himself into the fabric of the couch seeking pressure and chasing his own release. White noise and blood rushing filled your ears, a symphony of curses mixed with his own name enveloped the space you shared. Your muscles ached and whined at how you were bent in half, shuttering through the force of your orgasm.

“So good for me, baby.” He praised, licking softly, but the sensation was almost too much when trying to come down from your high. He looked otherworldly, eyes wide and heavy, mouth glistening with your own juices coating his face and stubble. He leaned down for a kiss, your taste thick on his tongue while you moaned. It was perfect. It was everything you wanted. He was everything you wanted.

“Will you let me fuck you sweetheart?” He asked, pulling himself up to bury his head in your neck.

“Please Abel-“ you begging, sitting up and dragging your hands to his belt. Fumbling with the front of his pants. He chuckled and pulled you up with him, kissing you and stumbling off the couch and towards his bedroom. Once you crossed into the room he pulled his shirt off of you and tossed it on the floor, his own clothing followed. His bed was soft, warm and had his scent laced within. He joined you on the bed where you saw him fully. His cock stood flush against his stomach and aching to be touched. You got a good look at what was to come, thick, uncut, and heavy. Abel seized you up by your hips and turned you around so your chest was flush against the covers, lifting you up slightly to angle better with a smack to your ass.

You felt him nudge against your thighs, his knees and thick thighs opening you up wide. He collected your remaining wetness and what he left of his own at the tip of his cock, let it dip between your folds and finally push into your awaiting pussy. The sound he made was animalistic, between a growl and a whimper when he finally bottomed out inside you. The stretch and almost pulsing made your jaw drop a gasp escaping your lips when he slid in.

“You feel amazing- so perfect,” His hands came up to grip your waist, letting himself start to rock into you, setting his own pace of consuming pleasure. His hands tightened around you when you clenched, milking him for every thrust he gave. Your post orgasmic haze was starting to dull, but then the next rush and wave of pleasure took over as he started a brutal pace.

“Fuck! Abel I can’t-“ you tried to form a coherent sentence, begging him for your second release. Reaching up and behind you, looking for the man that was giving you the ultimate high. He leaned down, hips stuttering when you grabbed his hair and turned back, capturing his lips in a searing kiss to complete the circle of pleasure between you two. You felt the world shift when he pushed you farther into the mattress, clit dragging softly against the fabric to aid your impending orgasm.

Abel pulled out of your pussy- but when you started to whine he nudged into your ass, asking if he could fuck you where no one else has. When you nodded, begging for him to stretch your ass open, he moaned, spitting on his cock for added wetness and pushed in slowly. He resumed kissing you- licking into your own mouth, pounding into you harder so he can catch up with his own orgasm, the bed frame starting to creak in protest. When his arm was starting to give, he reached for the headboard. Being impaled by him and while at the mercy of him, bringing him so much pleasure that he’s no longer forming full and coherent sentences, just gasps and groans, and your name.

The drag of his cock, brushing against every spot deep within you, heavy and perfectly in tune with your body. When he finally did he sounded pained, but far from it. When he came deep inside you he throbbed and stilled, your own orgasm chased after his. He reached under you to thumb at your clit, rubbing harsly and pulling a second devastating orgasm from you. His release starting to drip from your still connected bodies, down your thighs and onto the sheets , feeling obscene yet intimate between you two.

His breath was rough against your back- panting, but soothing with kisses at your neck. He pulled out, pained almost to leave your body. But when he laid back, wordlessly he pulled you flush against his chest. Soft word. Soft kisses that were very Abel. The act between you both was anything but gentle- yet it was an intimacy that he missed. It was something he shared with you and while you both drifted off he felt it.

“I love you” quietly whispered into your skin. You were awake. You heard it loud and clear. And you loved him too.

The next morning while he slept you crept out of bed, leaving a kiss to his cheek softly. You dig around the mess of clothes you both left on the floor, looking for his white button up. Once you had it on you padded into the kitchen to make him breakfast. You didn’t hear him groan when he woke up. But you felt his arms around your waist, a soft kiss on your neck.

“I love you.” This time louder. This time you repeated it back.

[nehemia-deserved-better]

Elorcan deserved about 500 more chapters all to themselves, so I decided to write one of them. I intended this story to be as canon-compliant as possible, so that it could plausibly be considered an extra Elorcan chapter in Empire of Storms. It would be set a day after their fight over Lorcan killing the ship owner in chapter 43, and before the next time we see them where Elide claims to have not spoken to him for 3 days. 

So without further ado: How The Light Gets In

The nightmare began at the top of a stone stair. Elide’s heavy, uneven footfalls echoed ominously in the tight space as she descended, spiraling down into the fetid air of the dungeons. The chains snaking around her ankles rattled and slithered with each step. Yet it was not that sound which frightened Elide; it was the cacophony of despair emanating from below. Women’s voices: moaning, screaming, and—worst of all— pleading. She tried to flee back up the stair, but a phantom hand seized her chains and sent her pitching headlong into the unforgiving stone. Her fingernails splintered and bled as she scrabbled for purchase, fighting to crawl away from that horrible noise. But the pull on her chains was relentless. Elide was dragged downwards into that ocean of misery, each voice crashing over her until she was drowning in sound, unable to distinguish her own screams.

—————

Lorcan stood at the prow of the ship, illuminated by the light of the stars, and cursed his keen fae hearing. He couldn’t block out the soft whimpers coming from within the ship’s cabin, or the rustling of a small form tossing under the blankets. He didn’t want to know that Elide was having a nightmare, didn’t want to care. After all, why should he? Pathetic she had called him, nearly spitting the words in disgust. Jealous, lonely, pathetic, unhappy—each insult flung from her with greater conviction than the last. And when she had finally finished, face mottled red in rage and chest heaving, he couldn’t even muster a convincing facade of anger. Instead, as he looked down on that tiny, furious woman, he felt only admiration and a surprising amount of desire. When was the last time someone had dared speak to him with such candor? He had killed males for lesser offenses, and she knew it. And yet, she remained stubbornly unafraid. 

But when she had followed that outburst with a demand to leave the ship, to leave him... Lorcan realized belatedly that the gut-wrenching sensation he'd felt then had been fear. He tilted his head up to look at the stars, admonishing himself for that weakness. This human should not have such power over him. Still, he knew he would not allow this fierce creature out of his sight. He wanted more of her. He wanted to feel her thick, dark hair between his fingers, and to do more with that red mouth than just gaze at it. But mostly, he wanted more of her passion, honesty, and bravery— her ability to see right through to the core of him with those cunning eyes. Lorcan found himself striding for the cabin door before he could think better of it.             

—————

It is a peculiarity of nightmares to seamlessly blend one horror into the next, forgoing transitions in exchange for an unending montage of terror. And so, Elide suddenly found herself standing at the base of the stair. She pressed her palms over her ears to no avail; nothing could block out that endless, many-voiced wailing. A long hall lined with torches and iron doors stretched out before her. She knew what lay beyond those doors, though her mind recoiled from the thought of witches and alters and demons. In the flickering light of the fires stood a ghostly woman draped in black. Kaltain raised a finger to her lips and, as though by her command, a curtain of silence fell over the hall. Elide didn't spare a moment to be relieved. She stepped toward Kaltain, trying to tell her that they must run, that they weren’t safe here. No words passed her lips— they never did, in her dreams. The Lady merely stared at her. “You can’t save them. Only I can do that now.” Elide furrowed her brow in confusion, prompting a breathy laugh from Kaltain. “Don’t you remember? Or did you forget about my sacrifice so easily?” Her lips split wide in a mockery of a smile, her mouth opening and opening until the flesh peeled away completely. Beneath, shrugging off Kaltain’s skin like an oversized coat, was a pale woman with blood red lips. “And what of my sacrifice, my darling girl? What became of me?” Elide reached for her mother, but she crumbled to ash between her fingers.  

—————

Lorcan’s breath caught as he laid eyes on Elide sleeping fretfully in the narrow cabin bed. The blankets were twisted around her legs, becoming thoroughly tangled as she continued to shift in agitation. A sheen of sweat glimmered at the base of her throat. Distress was clear in her expression, despite her face being partially obscured by her disheveled hair. Lorcan had no idea what to do. He wanted to soothe her and provide comfort, but he had no experience with such things. Besides, if Elide’s resolute silence of the previous day was any indication, she would likely not welcome his presence. And yet, he found himself unable to walk away, as though some gravity beyond his control were pulling them together. 

Gently, Lorcan reached down and brushed the loose strands of hair from her face, smoothing them behind her ear. His hand lingered for a moment, brushing against her cheek. He marveled at how small she seemed under his broad palms. She stirred, and he quickly retracted his fingers, scolding himself for his stupidity. How incensed would she be to wake and find him standing over her? He began to turn away. 

“Stay.” The word was a single breath, so quiet that Lorcan was fairly certain it was a hallucination brought on by wishful thinking. But then it came again, soft as a prayer, “stay.” He simply stared at her. Elide didn’t even seem to be awake. It was very possible that she was speaking to someone in her dream, utterly unaware of his presence. Just as he was convincing himself of this, a hand lightly grasped his own. Her fingers were so little in his, delicate like the bones of a bird. But he knew the strength that lay there, knew she had calluses and scars to mirror his own. Lorcan softly lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed, Elide's hand still in his. He wasn’t used to holding something with such care, not with these hands that had wrought so much death. He found that he liked the change. 

“Elide?” he whispered. No response. “Are you awake?” Her eyes remained closed but she spoke slowly in reply.

“Lorcan...You’re not usually here.”

“In the cabin?”

“In my dreams.”

 He took a moment to absorb that blow to his male ego. Before he could think of a suitable response, Elide was tugging on his hand, trying to pull him closer. Lorcan was conflicted. She was clearly not fully awake, hovering in the limbo of her dreams. As much as he wanted nothing more than to lay down and pull her close, to see just how well the curves of her body fit with his own, it didn’t seem right to take advantage of her hazy consciousness. And in addition, there was no way his massive frame would fit on that bed with her unless she was nearly on top of him. He struggled to divert his imagination away from that particular path of thought.

When he looked back at her face, he was startled to find her eyes wide open. The gaze that met his own was clear, apparently awake. “Stay,” she repeated, and the last of his reservations disappeared. She scooted up against the wall, occupying the narrowest strip of bed possible. After some adjusting of bodies and untangling of blankets, Lorcan wound up on his back. His shoulders took up the entire width of the bed, and still he was precariously close to the edge. Elide was pressed between his body and the wall, her limbs sprawled out across him: an arm resting on his chest, a leg bent up over his own, her foot pressed between his calves. Gingerly, he slid his arm underneath her head, providing his bicep as a pillow. 

“I thought you were still angry with me,” he grumbled.

“I am. I don’t think I’ll ever speak to you again, because you are a cruel bastard,” she responded sleepily, snuggling closer. Lorcan had gone past the point of confusion and was now hovering somewhere in the realm of utter bewilderment.

“I’ll find a way to manage without you.” Why could he never find the right thing to say to her? 

“No, you won’t, because you promised.” She paused there for a yawn. “As mysterious as you think you are, I know that promise matters to you... that I matter to you. Why else would I dream of you after a nightmare?” She yawned, more pronounced than the first time. When she began speaking again her voice was thick with exhaustion. “I know I’m safe with you. I know that you will protect me.” And with that, she was fully asleep once more. Not a trace of the nightmare remained on her face, and her breathing was deep and untroubled.  

Lorcan could only stare at the top of her head, stunned. Despite how lucid she seemed, she had clearly still been half in the grip of her dreams. But her words, her absolute confidence in him, the comfort she had found in his arms...He had never experienced this before. Receiving affection without sex or motive, soothing fear instead of creating it— this was all uncharted territory. Something in him fractured with astounding force. It was as though every place their bodies touched was cracking open and she was the light pouring in, pushing back all that darkness he had gathered throughout the centuries. He had no word to name this feeling coursing through his blood, but he couldn’t remember the last time he felt so unburdened. He pressed his lips to the top of her head and whispered “I will always keep you safe”. Then, he laid his cheek atop her hair and listened to her breathe for a long while before he fell asleep.      

—————

Elide woke to the smell of cooking trout, and the soft sound of water lapping against the boat. Even through her closed lids she could see that daylight was pouring through the windows of the cabin, meaning she must have slept very late into the morning. She rolled over with a groan and reached out a hand for...for whom? Was she expecting to find someone in her bed? Sitting fully upright now, she looked around in confusion. She’d had a very strange dream. Lady Kaltain had been there, in the dungeons of Morath… she shuddered at the memory, both of the dream and its real-life inspiration. She’d vomited for days after she saw behind those iron doors, and had no desire to recollect the specifics either awake or asleep. 

But then she’d left the dungeon and arrived in the ship’s cabin, where her fear-addled brain had conjured an image of the only true safety she had known for the last decade: Lorcan. A soft smile graced her face at the thought, quickly replaced by a grimace as she remembered him killing that man, and their resulting fight. He provided safety for her, perhaps, but he brought only death to those who got in his way. Her thoughts lingered on the barge owner who had once slept in this bed, dutifully cleaned the cabin windows, adorned the small table with an embroidered cloth— she bolted out of the bed and through the door, suddenly needing to be anywhere else.

Fingers gripping the ship’s railing so tight that her knuckles threatened to pop out, Elide leaned into the wind off the river water. Lorcan may well have saved both their lives by ending that man’s. An innocent bystander he may have seemed, but one likely to jump at the chance to profit from their capture. Lorcan had done it, as he seemed to do everything these days, to protect her. 

That thought brought her back to her dream. It had been so real. She could recall the way his breath had stirred her hair, the feeling of his muscular chest under her fingers and his considerable bicep cushioning her head, how she had confidently declared how much he cared for her— she stopped as though her thoughts had crashed into a stone wall. She felt the blood drain from her face. She never, never spoke in her dreams. 

A gentle tap on her shoulder had her shouting in surprise; Lorcan couldn’t normally sneak up on her, to his eternal annoyance, but she had been too deep in thought to notice his approach. Wordlessly, he held out a plate of trout. He betrayed no expression beyond a slight quirk of the eyebrows, likely in reaction to having a small woman scream at him in a pitch only bats and immortal demi-fae could hear. Elide studied the harsh planes of his face as she accepted the food in silence. She found nothing there to suggest she had spent the night curled in his arms. He seemed to be examining her expression as well. His lips parted, as though there was something he wanted to say, but something in her face seemed to convince him to remain quiet. With a soft shake of the head and a furrow in his brow, he turned away.     

As he walked back toward the prow, she let out a sigh of relief. It had just been a dream. She felt an unexpected disappointment at the thought. It was harmless to admire his power and strength from a distance, or to feel sparks of desire as his gaze slid to her lips every damn time they spoke, but to spend the night in his arms? She watched him tirelessly propelling the boat  with a long pole, his dark hair sticking to his neck in the hot midday sun. No, it had been a dream, and that’s all it would ever be...right?            

Thanks for sticking around all the way till the end! It would mean a lot if you would comment and let me know what you think of my first ever fanfiction :)                      

[random-imagines-blog]

Horror Show {Tate Langdon x Reader}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2991 Summary: You didn’t anticipate that the new house would come with a new roommate.

The first thing that you thought of when you saw the house was that it was definitely not normal. You’d taken the tour around LA a couple of times, due to your morbid fascination with crime, and had seen it from the street. But now that you were approaching it, taking step by step, the feeling grew stronger. This was not an ordinary house. Your parents, both busy and insane, didn’t even seem to notice. Or if they did, they said nothing to you about it. Instead, they talked about how they wanted to freshen it up with a new coat of paint. Because that was going to cover the stains of the sins that had occurred inside. Your eyes darted to the window of the room that was certain to be yours, and thought you saw a movement, a sway of the curtains. You stopped, and raised your hand to your forehead to shield your eyes from the bright California sun. Must have just been a bending of light. No one was in your house - right?

“Come on honey,” Your mother said, in her sugary sweet voice. She smiled nervously at the old woman who was standing across the street, smoking dramatically. You could have guessed that she was being kind to protect her reputation rather than care about you.

“What, you don’t want a dramatic entrance?” You asked, brushing her off and walked inside after your father. You didn’t care about the flooring, the wall color, the stairs, the paneling, and all the other things that your parents would want to rework. Your mother quickly stepped inside, closing the door behind her, tutting at your behavior.

“You can start on your room then,” She sniffled.

“Great! I was just waiting for your permission,” You said with a sarcastic grin. Your father didn’t even bother with responding to you, staying out of it like he always had. He probably said about ten words to you so far this year, and you were well into September.

You picked up a box of your clothing which was sitting near the stairs, and started your way up the stairs. As you took each step, you thought you could hear music. It was very faint. So very much so that you weren’t sure if it was coming from your imagination or if you were really hearing it. Either way, you followed where you thought it was coming from, right to the room that was going to be yours.

Nirvana.

Heart Shaped Box? Or was it Smells Like Teen Spirit?

It wasn’t often that you listened to them, though you knew a couple of the more popular songs from rock-themed radio stations. You hummed along and set the box on top of your bed. At least the movers had done their job right, and set up your bed against one of the walls. You looked around and approved of where the dresser was, and your desk. It was perfect - but you just had to make the rest of the room to your taste. Time to bring a bit of Halloween fun to the blue-grey colored walls. Some orange and black paint. Some of your dolls and plushies, that were your weakness. Hey, it was hard to resist things that were so damn cute.

You started to hang your clothes in the closet and put others into your dresser, when you came across a very odd feeling that someone was watching you. You quickly put your underwear into the drawer, keeping your eyes on the mirror that was on your vanity, waiting to see if something was going to move in it. The curtains shifted behind your back. You knew it.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” You said, going to your door and closing it. The last thing you needed was your mother thinking you were talking to yourself, and trying to put you on some designer drugs. “Come on, it’s called the Murder House. There has to be something in here. A ghost, a phantom, a banshee? Bueller?”

“Not quite,” A voice said from behind you. You saw something out of the corner of your eye again. But this time, you were able to follow it until you came across a boy standing in front of your window. Shaggy blonde hair, dark eyes, striped sweater. Not exactly what you were thinking of when you thought about contacting spirits.

“Well, hello,” You said, folding your arms in front of yourself. You had always had an interest in the Supernatural, and thought that you had a few experiences. But nothing like full blown seeing someone in front of you. It had been things like lights flickering, raps on tables, cups moving on their own. This was something else, and you had to admit, you were pleased. “You’re not what I had expected,” You told him.

He walked around your room, taking in the sight of your furnishings. “What were you expecting? Someone in a stupid sheet?”

“That’s not an unjust expectation,” You said with a shrug, feeling a little attacked by this boy. But he couldn’t have been much older than you, if he was at all. Good face for a welcoming committee. “I can’t remember you from the murder tour, though there were a lot of names thrown around. Which one are you?”

“Tate Langdon,” He walked right up to you, not afraid of you in the slightest. You didn’t shrug away or back down from his approach, but rather eyed him cautiously. He put his hand out to you, looking at you with a studying look.

“Would I even be able to touch you? Or would my hand go straight through yours?” You asked, cautiously.

“There’s only one way you’re going to find out,” He challenged you. And you being you, you went for it. His hand was cool to the touch, but it felt human enough. You didn’t go through him like you thought that you would. If he hadn’t appeared out of nowhere, you wouldn’t have been able to tell that he was a spirit. You let go of his hand and let your own drop to the side. But then out of nowhere - “BOO.”

You blinked in surprise at his yelling, but you didn’t flinch beyond that. “Excuse me?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. “Now you’re going into ghost-under-the-sheet territory.”

“You’re not scared?” He asked, intrigued.

“Of ghosts? No. I think they’re the most natural thing in the world. A bit strange and unusual to some people, I guess. But they consider me that too.”

“Strange and unusual,” Tate said with a laugh. He shook his head, and then right in front of your eyes, he seemed to disappear. It was a very odd thing to witness, and it did put a chill up your spine at how easy it seemed to be for them.

You went about the rest of your unpacking, but when you found some more of your underwear at the bottom of the box, you looked around suspiciously.

“No peeking in my drawers, ghosties. I’ll know,” You said aloud to yourself, tucking them into the drawer. You closed it up sturdily, thinking that perhaps you heard some laughter. You couldn’t be certain.

-

“It can’t be Halloween every day dear,” Your mother said, looking at your outfit as you got home from your first day of school. No motherly chit-chat about what it’s like to start at a new school, no ‘how did it go’. Just an instant critique on your mainly black outfit.

“It is for me,” You said, blowing past her to head up the stairs to your room. You slammed the door closed behind you, because as anyone could clearly see, you did not have a very good day. You threw yourself upon the bed, landing face down right on your most comfortable pillow.

“Why?” A disembodied voice came from your room. You were getting adjusted to it. Tate came and went every so often, though you could feel him watching you when he wasn’t there. It was unsettling, especially when you were getting ready for the day, or dressing down before bed.

“High school,” You grumbled into the pillow, not lifting your head. There came a chuckle from the corner of your room, but you didn’t look over.

“Come to the dead side. We don’t need school,” Tate said, popping up beside you, all messy blonde curls and a wide grin. You turned your head over to the other side, death being an uncomfortable topic for you. “I think we went to the same school,” He said, a little quieter this time.

“Oh yeah? Maybe I should ask to see the old yearbooks,” You teased.

“They wouldn’t have put me in there.” He said, stiffly. That got your attention. You pushed yourself up, then sat cross legged on the bed, staring at the seemingly shy boy.

“Why not?” You asked. “I’ve asked not to be put in mine, but they’re forcing me into it. So whatever you did must be-”

“Evil.” He finished the sentence. “I’m sure you can find it all on your laptop. They have everything on there.”

“So that was you that’s been using it while I’ve been busy,” You said, having found it open on more than one occasion. “I thought perhaps it was one of the other ghosties that you claim are around here.”

“There are twenty-four of us,” Tate said, sounding quite bitter about it. “And I’m the only one that you’re ever going to want to talk to.”

“Is there a girl? Because sometimes I feel like I smell perfume. If that’s you, I’m not judging but-”

“It’s me,” A female said, appearing behind Tate.

“Violet,” Tate said, turning around, a look of pure malice on his face. You hadn’t been expecting that. It was more than a little terrifying to see the change in his usually innocent-looking face. “Get out of here.”

“Or what, you’re going to kill me?” The girl said, sarcastically. She looked you over, and her face turned to one of concern. “You’re going to want to be careful in this house, if you’re staying.”

“I’m careful in every house,” You said, looking back at Tate, who still looked furious.

“Really?” Violet said, appearing behind you now, leaning over so her long curtain of hair was on your shoulder. “Then you should know something about your roommate.”

“Shut up!” Tate screamed so hard that you could feel his breath on your face. Your heartbeat was quickening. Something was happening, and it wasn’t going to be good.

“He’s a murderer,” Violet whispered in your ear. “A school shooter. A liar.”

“SHUT UP!” Tate screamed loud enough that it felt like the whole room was quaking. There was a sound of pounding at the door, and then it opened up to reveal your parents, both standing there with red faces, looking about.

“What’s going on?” Your father looked worried, and your mother looked just pissed off. Tate and Violet have entirely disappeared, leaving you here on your own, sitting on your bed, probably looking suspicious as hell.

“What do you mean?” You asked, not facing either of them, but rather right in front of you.

“The yelling? The whole house shaking?” Your father asked. “Did you blow your speakers out or something?”

You were still dealing with the mess of information that you had just gotten from Violet. A murderer. School shooter - that would be a reason why they wouldn’t put him in the yearbook.

“Y/N, Answer your father!” Your mother screeched. You winced at the sound of her voice. God, she was annoying as hell. You’d do anything to make her leave you alone. Even -

Even try to ask a ghost for assistance in scaring them away from you? Scaring the away from the house? You probably should leave, considering that the ghost who seemed the nicest happened to be a school shooter. And who nows what else he had done?

“Stereo system broke,” You lied quickly. “I got it under control, obviously. Do you hear anything anymore? Because I don’t. So bugger off.”

Almost as if by will itself, the door slammed closed in their faces of their own volition. You felt like Matilda for a moment, but then realized that Tate was standing behind the door, looking more sheepish and shy than he had before. “Don’t really want to talk to you right now, either.” You told him, making him look more downcast.

“You have to tell me to go away, those are the rules,” He said, pouting.

“Go away, Tate.”

-

And he had.

It had been three weeks, and your parents were back up to their old shit. Bugging you endlessly. It seemed like everytime you were actually trying to be productive with school work, they were being noisy right outside of your door.

You’ve finally had it. You snapped your laptop shut and glared at the door, feeling your mood grow blacker and blacker by the second. Your so called family was driving you insane. They were hammering new paneling or something in the wall of the hallway, the banging doing your head in.

You fell onto your back in the bed, eyes rolling up into your head. Madness needed madness. You didn’t want to do this but - “Tate?”

There wasn’t any noise, but the sun that was coming through your windows was suddenly blocked. You opened one eye to see that you were in the shadow of the teenage ghost. “I think I need your help,” You whispered. “Not a shooting obviously but... something to scare them?”

“Why?” He asked, head slightly tilted. “Why would I do you a favor when you just want me to go away?”

“Because you might have fun?” You suggested. “And - and I’m sorry. You can’t really blame me for being a bit surprised and afraid that I’m sharing a room with a murderer. And his former girlfriend.”

“Don’t even mention her, it’s bad enough that we’re stuck here together,” Tate said, folding his arms behind his head.

“Sorry,” You said. You turned your head to look at the closed door again. Your dad was being so loud, it sounded as if he was actually inside of your head rather than outside the door. “How do you guys put up with that? People coming in, changing things around, making a bunch of noise. Doesn’t it drive you crazy?”

“Yes,” Tate said, with a laugh.

“So maybe you’ll help me, then? Just something to scare them off of doing work for a bit. I don’t think-” You bit down on your lip as you prepared to say something that only a crazy person would say. “-I don’t want it to be bad enough that we leave here, you know? I kind of like the spookiness around here. It’s ... charming.”

“No one here is charming,” Tate said, his smile dropping. “Do you want to watch the show?”

“I - no, I think I’ll stay in here. I trust you.”

That was something that evidently wasn’t said to Tate often. He smiled at you, waved his fingers and then disappeared. You stayed in your bedroom, eyes closed to try to avoid the late afternoon sunlight, and waited for chaos to happen.

Sudden screaming came from your mother, shrill and loud, filling the entire house with it’s echoes. And then there was your father’s yell, something that you had never heard before, since he usually let your mother do the yelling. It sounded like pure fear. It made even your blood run cold when you thought about what they were seeing. And just when you thought about going down the stairs, Tate appeared in your room once more, sitting beside you on the bed.

“What did you do?” You breathed, still too afraid to open your eyes. You felt his weight on the bed, especially as he lied back with you. “I asked you not to scare them too much.”

“The vacuum cleaner wanted to suck your moms face off, I couldn’t help it,” He said laughing. You pictured that and giggled a little as well. You finally opened your eyes and moved so that you were facing the laying down Tate, eye to eye. He had a glimmer in those dark eyes of his, and his grin was infectious.

“What are you grinning about?” You asked, reaching up to poke his nose.  It wasn’t something that you planned to do, it just kind of happened. A dark look went across his eyes for a second, then went right back to being happy-go-lucky.

“It’s nice not to be alone here anymore,” Tate said. You opened your mouth to point out that he wasn’t alone, there were plenty of ghosts around here, but he stopped you. “I don’t usually talk to anyone else. They’re mostly assholes.”

“Maybe I’m an asshole,” You suggested.

“You’re strange. And unusual. But not an asshole.”  With one hand, he moved a piece of hair out of your face, smoothing it back, then lightly grazed your cheek.

“Am I really flirting with a ghost right now?” You asked yourself aloud.

“I can still feel like flesh and blood,” He smirked, making you slap his chest. He was right - he did feel sturdy.

“We’ll see how it goes, day by day, how about that?” You asked, closing your eyes as he caressed your cheek once more.

[havetheavengersdoneanythingwrong]

An Interlude — Warmth Under the Covers

The Master of Chaldea — Ritsuka Fujimaru — checks in on his allies, only to find them slacking off yet again.

What’s a Guda to do?

[POV-Ritsuka]

—

I am a Master of Chaldea.

That is what I am — nothing more, nothing less.

The guy operating the summoning system most of the time — one of the two guys who keeps the contracts between the Servants that Chaldea summons.

Mash’s Senpai.

I’m a Cause, and so is my coworker.

“...That’s right. That makes me a badass now, sort of!”

I can feel my fingers run through my hair as I wink at the mirror before me. Comparing my two options to figure out which one I preferred in the Combat Uniform, I ran over my daily routine.

Step one, of course, was figuring out how much I wanted to do myself up in the morning. The Chaldea bathrooms had the perfect lighting to check my face and skin, ensuring my skincare routine was up to snuff. Making sure my eyes weren’t bloodshot from the two hours’ sleep — making sure the bags under my eyes were concealed with a little bit of makeup.

“It’s like every day, Suzie’s training becomes a little more useful.”

That’s right — a closer look, and my cheeks were smooth as a baby’s bottom — my eyes as normal as they could get, considering their bright orange shade. At least the curtains matched the windows — always something that did bother me about my other look, that my hair wasn’t blue.

“...Then again, that would look awful with the uniform.”

The thought made my spine shiver. Like a genderswapped Rei — not bad, but not exactly the visual I liked seeing.

Truly, it was preferable to have that set form — anything else would be nauseating to even think about.

“...That should do it.”

Yes, truly — I looked perfectly fine, now. Care had to be taken to ensure I looked like my best.

That, of course, was easier than worrying the others.

...

...The bathrooms led to the Chaldea halls, just as well as they led to my quarters. Why the creators did this always confused me — even moreso, that the doors were one-sided, and were flush with the wall, so you couldn’t even get back in.

“Goddamned mages and their one-way bathroom door magic.”

Adjusting the plugsuit that never failed to get bunched up near my arm, and trying to imagine the map of Chaldea in my head, I put one foot in front of the other and started course to the cafeteria. Simply a hop, skip, and approximately twenty-five different hallways that look exactly the same away — my only saving grace being how many times I’ve made this journey before.

That, and the burning Olive Garden due east of the Cafeteria, whose smoke signalled the food area from a mile away.

And for much of the trip, it was the same as it always was — simply my footsteps echoing in an empty hallway, the only accompaniment being the odd intercom message from Da Vinci letting the staff know of a Singularity that had only recently cropped up.

“Just calling to let you all know that we will begin our scheduled Rayshift in four days~! Prepare yourselves for it!”

...We never really had a break. Even walking down these empty, empty halls, my footsteps served only to momentarily break up the endless thoughts of what came next.

‘A mystery Singularity. Is that what it is? I’ve never heard of it. We had the four Pseudo-Singularities handled already. There shouldn’t be any Pillars left! On top of that, we still don’t know the first thing about its location, and even if we did...’

Tap.

‘...It’s not like we can do anything to stop it. All my research, and nothing about this makes any sense at all. Maybe a Foreigner could do it, but—‘

Tap.

‘—Why? There’s no reason to make a Singularity anymore. No Demon Pillars left. The Lostbelts are already destroying mankind. There’s nothing left to do. And—‘

Tap.

‘...We need a break. We need a break from this — from ALL of this. Cadence needs a break, and that’s to say nothing of myself. Can’t we have a moment to sleep..?! Can’t we have even a second to rest our eyes, snooze, and..?!’

The smoke overwhelmed my thought. Against the harsh fumes of a burning building, and the strange smell of spice, rational thought was impossible to maintain — and the growing headache of a nightmare-riddled sleep wasn’t exactly helping matters.

Tap.

It wasn’t far now, surely. Another step forward, and —

...

...Between the tables of the cafeteria, there lay a kotatsu.

I made it with Da Vinci’s help just a few days before. A little wooden table, at least compared to the surrounding cafeteria tables — a red blanket sort of thing, and a heater underneath that Da Vinci cleverly placed carefully to avoid burning oneself. It could sit, I reckoned, four people on a good day —

—I didn’t account for Gorgon, clearly.

Finally directing my gaze to what was coming out of the blanket of the kotatsu — and moving forward as to get the damned Olive Garden smoke out of my eyes — I was met first with the ever-clear figure of Gorgon. Eyes just barely shut, a hand positioned to form a makeshift pillow, and a tail surrounding something out of view, she drew a figure much unlike what I’d previously seen — only made a little more curious with the resting Lobo just behind her, which made its resting spot close to her in order to be as warm as possible. Hessian, for what it was worth, was still awake, sitting at a table nearby — offering me a wave of recognition as I returned my gaze to the table.

Jeanne Alter lay — more accurately, sat — at the kotatsu, almost as if she were awake, her hand still gently grasping a bag of chips that had by now spilled across the oak surface of the table. If it weren’t for her loud snoring, and her face smushed against the table, she would’ve had me convinced she was still awake.

Circling around, I found an Artoria that seemed quite familiar — Lancer, clad in a black turtleneck sweater, dark grey jeans, and her esteemed headpiece, resting her head on her hand and looking almost wistfully at whatever Gorgon had wrapped up in her tail. Even as I approached, she didn’t even look back in recognition — as if I never existed at all, or as if she were staring through a window that wouldn’t accommodate for anything Ritsuka-shaped.

And as I followed her unshifting gaze, I found —

—Wrapped in Gorgon’s tail, a young lady, sharp black hair tied up in an impressive style I couldn’t quite describe. Her face, uncovered by a mask I’d grown accustomed to seeing, seemed at peace — eyes gently shut, arms wrapped around...

“...Cadence, you motherfucker.”

The careful, wistful gaze of Lancer Alter, the comically tight squeeze of a sleeping Gorgon, and the gentle hold of Ushiwaka, all contained a cowardly Master that somehow bonded with the most hateful, evil beings alive.

In a sense, it would bring about the ultimate safety, being around those that would always fight to protect that which they care of — even if their ultimate fate is to burn all that lives, surely some safety remained in keeping close to those who would protect you from anything they hated most.

“...This guy claims he’s a one-on-one sort of guy, yet he ends up like this.”

...It wasn’t like I had any right to complain — I did have Mash, and that was utter perfection, so I supposed he had the right to find a portion of that.

“...I’m never letting him live this down.”

“...Ritsuka.”

...I glanced over to Lancer Alter, who seemingly only now clued into my existence — her almost hazy eyes, as if overlaid with a world both like and unlike reality, gazed both at me — and through me.

“What is it?”

“...Rest well. Your journey will not end so easily — you would do well to follow his lead.”

...Her gaze moved back to Cadence, who hadn’t moved a muscle. If not for the subtle sound of his breath, I’d have presumed him dead — though he wouldn’t have much room to move, the way he was.

“...I don’t think I can rest that well, Lancer. He’s got two ladies keeping him warm, and a third keeping an eye on him. Can’t tell me I’ll ever rest like that.”

...At that, the Lancer only smirked.

“...It shocks me as much as any other, Ritsuka, that this has happened. But... You have your own who would be all too willing to provide, no?”

I could hear myself let out a snort in a desperate attempt not to laugh.

“Only one with Ritsuka cuddle privileges is Mash. Serenity gets a pass, but the others terrify me.”

“...So be it. Find those two, and rest. If that is how you rest best, then so be it.”

...Keeping a close look at her eyes, the fog faded ever-so-slightly as she kept watch over the other Master. I reckoned it was probably due to the contract being transferred to him — though Cadence did always have the strange habit of bringing Alters down to earth. If he weren’t so scared of the others...

“...You do the same, Lancer. Don’t watch over the guy forever. If you wanna get in there, Gorgon could probably fit you, too.”

As I briefly procured me phone to snap a picture of the scene before me, to tease Cadence with later, Lancer only laughed back.

“I am already dreaming, Ritsuka. I have no need to rest.”

“Right, right.”

Even as I turned around, and began setting foot outside the cafeteria with a wave Lancer’s way, my eyes remained on the photo of Cadence.

A lot had changed — a lot would still yet change.

Friends had been made in unlikely places, enemies made of friends, and friends of enemies.

But in all this, even a guy as paranoid as Cadence found time to rest — he found company with Avengers, and those more evil than he could even hope to be, and he found safety in their loyalty and affection, so it seemed.

...

“...I guess I don’t need to worry about him, hm?”

...It was best to listen to that Lancer while I still had time —

—while, instead of the ceaseless nightmares, I would dream instead about teasing the coward that remained so affectionately in such a silly place.

...Perhaps it was time to dream.

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 77: The Hungarian Horntail

Sirius would swear the ground kept shaking even as he got himself up onto hands and knees, his vision was staying blurry longer than usual rather than letting anything into focus, and at first he thought it smoke in his eyes as he finally distinguished bonfires dancing all around him.

His long dark hair fell in curtains around his eyes, but now that he'd adjusted, it did nothing to obscure the fact he was face to face with a dragon. He screamed. A high pitch, death like noise that hurt his own ears, causing the fire breathing nightmare to roar louder and spray a white hot breath right towards him. He tried to get to his feet, too fast, and lucked himself into falling just below the deadly blast. Then he did get himself upright and took off at a dead run, until he ran face first into an invisible barrier just barely on the shadows of the last cage.

He staggered back, clutching his freshly bleeding nose but gripping his heaving chest instead, took the seconds it was worth to see the other seven weren't actually in the cages with any of them but staggering about in their own fear, and made the split second decision he wished he'd had available to him two summers ago.

"Padfoot, are you okay?" James asked in concern, seeing the blood matting his muzzle, but the dog merely shook his head, and his whole body with it, before pacing anxiously as far from the nearest dragon he could.

"That's a question I don't expect we'll get an answer to until we leave this spot," Remus pointed out. "Even then, I'm sure it'll just be, shut up."

James nodded in silent agreement and decided to get right to that, summoning the book to him. The book came shooting from in between the feet of the largest black one that had spikes all along it, the blue cover was blackened around the edges and still smoking slightly, not a great omen.

Peter came hesitantly over to them, rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly but still asking in genuine concern, "is he okay?"

"You try asking him," Remus nearly had to shout over the still roaring beasts, who seemed no more pleased with their presence than them. Remus barely noticed, despite the fact he'd usually salivate at the chance to see live dragons. His eyes were on the nick in his ear once more, barely illuminated in the still bright flames being shot in all directions. His gut clenched once more, he wondered if he was going to be sick again. Why on Earth did Peter come over here to check on them when he had every reason in the world not to?

James Potter read out the very obvious chapter title as the other four stayed huddled in the shadows as well for safety.

"Which one's the horn-tail, do you think?" Alice asked quietly enough she hoped it wouldn't cause the green one to keep direct eye contact with her, glaring in a truly predatory way.

"Ah, the one with horns on its tail?" Frank offered politely, watching Regulus's progress. He was braver than he would have given the kid credit before moments ago, he'd scattered after them upon first finding themselves here, but was now walking back between the four enclosures cautiously to head back towards the Marauders group.

Amazingly, he made it to the other side without a burn, though the blue one had tried her best.

"Why are they here?" Lily demanded faintly. "Hagrid having a baby on the school grounds was insane enough, what the bloody hell is wrong with this Tournament?" She finished by answering her own question.

"I don't want to know," Alice groand, clutching Frank's hand harder. He returned the pressure in kind, all three of them wincing and burying their backs farther into the invisible barrier.

Regulus was chewing painfully on the inside of his cheek as he slowly but openly approached the four like they were more dragons. He had no clear goal in joining them, an oddity itself as he never did anything without a reason. All he was sure of was that he'd never heard his brother scream like that.

James stopped halfway through Skeeter's blithering article, admittedly happy with any reason to stop he was so disgusted, but tracked Regulus coming closer with narrowed eyes. He had three good reasons not to trust whatever he was coming over here to say right now, all involving the three currently around him.

He hadn't said a word about Remus, or to him, but neither had any of the others. He didn't know what would incite Regulus to now, but he'd push the welp into the nearest dragon's cage if that was it.

He had zero clue what that recurring conversation Regulus and Peter had been having was about, but was in no mood to learn of it now when he wanted a chance to try and have Peter back talking to them, he didn't trust any Black to help with that right now.

Padfoot was currently shaking on his strong legs, all fur bristled on end and tail between his legs as he let out heart stuttering growls and soft whimpers intermittently. This bloody area was traumatizing enough to the lot of them they'd be happy to never be so close to a dragon again, he couldn't imagine having to stare at these things for hours with no clear way to escape, again. It was the dog though Regulus had his eyes on as he approached.

Regulus almost couldn't hear his own voice amidst the still painfully loud roaring, so he cleared his throat awkwardly and tried just a touch louder, "is, ah, is he-"

"No, he's not alright!" James Potter was scowling at what he perceived as a stupid question. "You mind if I get around to fixing that?" He waved the book obnoxiously.

Regulus frowned, but shook his head and kept what he'd really been about to ask to himself as Potter continued. Is he going to change back, had been his actual question, as it was hard to put together what his mind was telling him, that this beast was actually somehow his brother. He shot a side glance at Lupin uncomfortably, he couldn't imagine being trapped like that, in a body so, minimal.

The last time he'd seen this massive canine, it had its jaws around a werewolf that would have happily eaten them all. Now it looked like just as much a dangerous animal itself, and a cornered dog was the most vicious kind. The blood just barely visible in the glittering teeth from the injured nose that he'd caused was not helping the image.

His parents would be impressed, he vaguely realized the longer he looked. Despite the fact he had to remind himself every other second that was indeed Sirius, rather than another terror of this Forest, his sixteen-year-old brother was an animagus. Not a fact he'd really taken the time to appreciate back when it had been revealed, considering everything else happening. He shot another anxious look at Lupin, this time out of the corner of his eye, and then glanced through the thick foliage once more to make sure it wasn't a full moon again, but couldn't see through it to be sure.

Orion and Walburga had been wrong about so much, it seemed. The Dark Lord, his screw-up of a brother never managing to accomplish anything, it seemed they were even wrong about werewolves as well. The pale, tall kid that stood half behind James Potter looked more afraid of him than vice-versa as he seemed to be waiting for something just as much as Regulus was. He chanced a glance at Peter, who was still standing just a few feet away more than was casual but standing firmly nonetheless, obviously more weary of keeping his eyes on the massive dragons than any other immediate problem like the two seemingly dangerous animals at his back.

Regulus again had to remind himself of his Animagus lesson he'd had just this year, that the difference was Sirius was in full control of his mind, where a werewolf never was. Just because this terrifying bear-like dog looked like it was going to lunge forward and tear their throats out any second, Sirius wouldn't...right? Surely if he was, he would have done so to Peter and claimed delirium when he changed back, but instead as James Potter kept talking, detailing Harry's reaction to the article, Sirius almost began to relax.

Not by any noticeable means if you weren't looking for it, but Regulus was. Almost one by one, his fur began to smooth out, his tail came out from under him to merely become horizontal, and he was leaning forward on his toes. Careful, calculating, eyes still resting on the danger and teeth bared, but no longer growling quite so loud.

He'd been studying Animagi a bit for his upcoming exams of course, but never with any more intensity than the curricular questions he might perceive. Nothing of the magnitude Sirius must have gone through to be like this. Regulus only knew the very basics, and even those processes were still beyond him. The question that really boggled the mind was, why had he done it?

At the time, the book version of his brother had said it was to help their werewolf friend, but what use could this be except a meal? It had come in handy, certainly, in keeping him at bay, but only for the precious time it took to get away from those deadly jaws. The creature was unreasonable at all senses though, it had nearly torn Sirius and Potter to shreds without a second thought, so clearly no pack mentality had spared him.

It was a conundrum he had no hope of understanding without actually talking to Sirius, and possibly Lupin so long as he was going to stay in his human form while doing it. As Potter had pointed out though, that didn't seem likely to happen until they got away from this place, the Horntail shooting a blast of fire in their direction that all five of them had to duck to avoid proving a valid point.

After that, Potter's reading increased in tempo even more, he almost blurred through Harry's trip to Hogsmeade, and Hagrid's odd invite that nevertheless they all almost immediately understood would somehow lead to this place.

Lily almost wanted to slap the gamekeeper for being so excited about this, even bringing a competitor's Head along like some sort of date. Even Potter could come up with better romance than this!

Alice and Frank winced and pleaded with the ground to swallow them whole on the spot when they heard that the challenge Harry would be facing did indeed include these dragons, nesting mothers to be spacific. The clutch of eggs, now that they knew to look for them, was indeed in the massive shadows well guarded, anybody would have to be insane to get near them! If Harry died trying, what would happen to them?

James' voice wavered uncomfortably as he heard that Karakaroff was sneaking there just as Harry was leaving, his mind going to Cedric and some kernels of pity for the kid who would be the only one of the Champions left out, but the majority of his mind was still on Harry and how he was going to! Hopefully Sirius would be of some help, after he had his own little freak out while talking to Harry in the fire?

He at first uneasily exchanged a small look with Remus as the conversation began, at least Sirius was looking better than the unrecognizable murderer from the Shack had described, but the longer it went on, the more obvious their worried exchanges got. Until finally he flat stopped and his mouth hung open for several beats, and Remus didn't even prod him to keep going.

Sirius had no reaction to the dragons Harry would soon be dealing with. Sirius was more worried talking about the Death Eaters in the castle, like Karkaroff! Sirius...really had changed.

Whether it was Azkaban or just time, they wondered what other little things would he have also prioritized over? He was still reckless, impulsive, this they knew, and he clearly put Harry above his own well-being, at least that was the same... but did he still have sticky fingers when it came to his friends' clothes? Did Sirius still throw his head back and laugh with his whole body? Did Padfoot still remember what it was like to trust anyone besides himself?

The big, glaring obvious difference of what would happen to Peter had shook them to their core, but it wasn't until now they thought back and really felt in their bones how different this world was, almost alien from theirs. It had been almost fun up until that awful moment to think of this as their future, that James and Lily would get together and have this child, that they'd just hear the tales of Harry's insane school years and find out what had killed them so they could keep the good and pretend the bad would never come. The real question though, was how any of this was going to end?

"Would you two quit gaping at each other like fish!" Peter finally snapped as the silence dragged on and Padfoot began whimpering uncomfortably right at their feet. "Dissect his shitty choices later please and get us out of here before we're roasted alive!"

The red one shot a mushroom-shaped fire right over his head to prove his point.

James swallowed uncomfortably, but complied, trying to take what comfort he could that was the first normal thing Peter had said to him in a while, and smothering whose fault that was how long it had been.

Finally as the pages reached their end for this chapter, Regulus did speak up once more, the question coming out of him the least of his concern really, but the only one he expected anyone other than him to come up with an answer to for now. He looked at Remus Lupin, and asked, "does that really help?" His eyes needlessly flickering back to Sirius, err, Padfoot? The dog that had actually almost loosened up, still in a tense weary stance, but of a hunter sighting its prey rather than fending it off. His brother.

Remus Lupin smiled in surprise, but answered cordially, "like you wouldn't believe."

[be11atrixthestrange]

Waking Up In Vegas Chapter 8

After a night of debauchery, Ron and Hermione wake up in Vegas... married.

Muggle!AU. Romcom!Romione. Slow burning, smutty, angst-fest.

Rated M for reasons.

Ao3 | FFN

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More Chapters

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[Hermione]

Hermione resists the urge to look back to her table as she exits the bar. She really doesn't need to see Lavender in Ron's lap, her fingers in his hair… they broke up, and she has no right to attach herself to him like that. She tries to focus on what Lavender said — Ginny needs her. It is probably some wedding-related anxiety and Hermione can surely help with that… but why can't Lavender? With a groan, she forces the image of Lavender and Ron to the back of her mind and continues on her way to Ginny's hotel room.

Ginny's door opens after one knock, and an unexpectedly cheery bride emerges.

"Hermione? Hi!"

"Hi," says Hermione. "What's wrong?"

Looking confused, Ginny cracks the door wider to allow Hermione entry. "Nothing, why?"

"Nothing's wrong?" Flushing with anger, she takes a seat on Ginny's unmade bed. "Lavender just said you need me, and that it's urgent."

Ginny laughs. "Oh, you must have been with my brother."

"Well, yeah," stammers Hermione. "But only because we were working on wedding logistics and—"

"Relax, Hermione," says Ginny, laughing. "What else would you be doing? I'm just saying, Lavender probably said that so you'd leave her alone with Ron. Nothing to worry about."

"Oh, of course," says Hermione, her heart pounding. Nothing to worry about. "What did she want to talk to Ron about?" she asks, her voice taking an uncharacteristically high tone.

Ginny shrugs. "Dunno, probably trying to seduce him," her words trail off as she patters to the bathroom with her makeup bag. "She has this elaborate plan to get him to take her back before the wedding."

"Oh," says Hermione softly, hoping Ginny can't hear the dejection of her voice from the bathroom.

"Yeah," says Ginny, poking her head back into the bedroom. Her eyes are twinkling with the opportunity for gossip. "You're coming to the bar tonight, right? We're keeping it pretty low-key. Don't want to overdo it before the hen party tomorrow."

"Uh yeah, I guess I am," says Hermione, immediately wondering if Ron… or Lavender will be there.

"Lavender probably won't be around tonight, if that gets you more excited to come," adds Ginny, aware of the hesitation in Hermione's voice. "She's gonna cling to my brother all night. She's so paranoid that he's sleeping with someone else."

"Someone else?" said Hermione, a little too shrilly. "They still sleep together?"

"Look at you, gossiping! I must be rubbing off on you," says Ginny proudly. "But yeah, they still sleep together all the time. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if he took her back. He doesn't exactly have a lot of game," she pauses, contorting her face to apply a coat of mascara. "He's a good guy, don't get me wrong, but it's really just a confidence issue. Lavender makes him feel good about himself."

Hermione's breath hitches and her hands cramp, drawing her awareness to her vicious grip on Ginny's comforter. She releases her fingers, leaving sweaty palm prints on the blanket. Cute.

Her panic is still growing. Ron and Lavender still sleep together, and now she's with him at the bar. She's probably still in his lap with her mischievous fingers in his hair, and is he going to be able to resist her advances?

A knot in her stomach reminds Hermione that unfortunately, he has no good reason to turn her down. They said just as much at the bar: Ron and Hermione are married without the benefits. He's only human if he wants to find those benefits elsewhere.

She knows she could offer up some benefits, but there's one problem: Hermione's not one to have sex with someone she barely knows — regardless of what may or may not have happened the previous night. She can't just set aside that precedent simply to prevent someone else from sleeping with Ron. She has self-respect.

She closes her eyes and recalls Ron's hand gripping her lower back when he pressed his lips against hers. That kiss on the bridge was epically perfect, and the idea of Lavender getting to experience it regularly makes her sick.

According to Ginny, 'Lavender makes him feel good about himself.' She can make him feel good about himself too...

"What's up? You look like you've seen a ghost," says Ginny, emerging from the bathroom with a perfectly made-up face, and a sexy black skirt and crop top combination that could make Harry a target of some lonely boy's jealous rage. Seriously, with that outfit, Harry should hire a security detail.

Hermione shakes her head to erase any telling expressions from her face. "When's the last time they slept together?"

"Um," says Ginny, stopping in her tracks. She looks confused and slightly suspicious. "I think they did the night we arrived in Vegas, but I'm not sure. I know Harry thought so. He keeps telling him to stop sleeping with her because he's just leading her on, but he's not exactly hard to convince, you know? He takes what he can get."

Hermione averts her eyes, which are now stinging with tears. "Do you think they'll get back together?" she asks, her voice cracking.

"Maybe. If they do, I don't think it'll be for long. It never is." Ginny takes one more scan of her outfit, adjusting her top in the mirror. "I'm ready to go! Are you?"

"Do you have any more clothes like that?" asks Hermione.

Ginny whips around to face her, a wide grin on her face. "Why, yes I do!"

"I just want to look good, you know," Hermione replies, unsure why she feels the need to justify it.

Ginny skips to her bag and fishes out a black minidress with lace accents and a deep, revealing v-neck — normally a little much for Hermione, but tonight, fuck it. "This one will surely get you some male attention, if that's what you want," she says giddily.

"Thanks, Gin," says Hermione, taking the dress from her. She holds it up against her body, wondering how much of her backside it'll actually cover. "That is what I want tonight."

Specifically from your brother, she adds to herself on her way to the bathroom to change.

x

Hermione follows closely behind Ginny, unable to mimic her confident strut as they clatter down the stairs. She keeps reaching for the hem of her dress and tugging it down, only for it to pop back up again, revealing more thigh than she's willingly exposed in quite some time.

"You look great. Stop adjusting your dress," says Ginny.

"It's just so short—"

"Yeah. That's why you look great," Ginny reiterates with a cheeky smile. "I bet I won't be the only one who thinks so."

Hopefully, Ginny's right, and there will be lots of men at the bar distracted by Hermione's legs. Maybe — and it's a big maybe — Ron and Lavender will still be at their bar table, and Hermione will get to witness the look on Lavender's face when Ron does a double-take.

By the time they arrive at the bar, it has been fully transformed into a nightclub. The lights are dimmer, meaning the poor souls who chose to wear white now glow like bleach in blacklight. The music has shifted from ambient folk to pop hits remixed with a heavy bass, and half the tables have been cleared to make room for a dance floor.

Hermione feels a surge of anxiety in the new atmosphere — nightclubs aren't really her scene. She glances toward the corner of the bar where she had most recently been sitting with Ron, and her heart sinks. It's now occupied by another couple, unrecognizable by their pressed-together faces and empty cocktail glasses that obscure them from a clear view.

She scans the rest of the club, wishing another tuft of red hair would stand out to her, but aside from Ginny, there's no one.

"Hey Ginny! Hermione!" Demelza calls from a table across the dance floor. Hermione crosses the center of the room, ignoring the prickling paranoia that she's being watched — she feels so exposed walking through the open space in Ginny's black mini-dress.

Her heart flutters for a moment when she catches a glimpse of Demelza at the table, because she's surrounded by the boys. At least some of them — Harry, Neville and Dean are there, but unfortunately, no Ron.

Lavender is nowhere to be seen either, a realization that sits like a brick in Hermione's stomach.

"Gin, I forgot my I.D. in my room, I'll be a moment," she says, tugging her hand away from Ginny's.

"Alright, catch ya later," says Ginny, skipping off to meet Demelza.

Hermione turns on her heel and shuffles out of the bar, trying not to cry. She has no reason to be upset — Ron's not hers to lay claim on. Unfortunately, that fact only reminds her that he's not Lavender's either, yet they're together, even though Hermione has every right to be in Ron's bed as Lavender does.

She brushes right past her floor — she didn't actually leave her I.D. behind — and makes a beeline for Ron's room, completely forgetting to prepare an excuse for barging in on him. Hermione just wants information, and with an unexpected entrance, she's bound to get some.

But she doesn't interrupt anything. It's too late for that. Her heart sinks when she rounds the corner and sees Lavender slipping out of Ron's room. Lavender locks eyes with Hermione as the door closes softly behind her, and she makes a show of fastening up the remaining buttons on her blouse.

"Looking for Ron?" Her tone of false innocence makes Hermione's blood boil.

Hermione opens her mouth to respond, but she can't think of a retort. Her dumbstruck silence brings a smug smile to Lavender's face.

"Give him a chance to get dressed first," Lavender says as she trots past Hermione down the hallway.

Fuming, Hermione storms toward Ron's door, her fist raised to knock, but something stops her. What will she say? She has no plan.

Hermione imagines Ron opening the door and seeing her puffy, red face, shiny with tears. She doesn't exactly look cute, and by no stretch of her imagination would her current appearance cause Ron to wish she was the one trotting down the hallway with a half-buttoned blouse. Not only that — she managed to make it through the entire afternoon without admitting her crush, but her current state of deranged jealousy is a dead giveaway.

If he sees her now, he'll know just how meaningful for her that kiss on the bridge was. He might suspect that her quiet distraction on the journey back had less to do with the sweltering heat, and more to do with her salacious imagination. He'd be right, but he doesn't need to know that. He doesn't need to discover that her nonchalant attitude at the bar was just an act — an embarrassing attempt to play it coy. Turns out her effort to keep him guessing was all for nothing; there's no point in playing hard-to-get with someone who's not even interested.

Clearly, his affection for her is platonic at best, nonexistent at worst. He brought Lavender up to his bedroom minutes after she rudely interrupted their conversation. If Lavender's his type, Hermione most likely isn't, and a confrontation would only confirm one thing: he's rejected her.

Why give him the satisfaction?

Frustrated, Hermione jerks her hand from the door, and backs away. There's another option here, and at the moment, it's a lot more appealing. She wipes her eyes and turns her back to Ron's door, now determined to show him that she doesn't care if he wastes his time on Lavender Brown. She doesn't care one bit.

But she might need to stop by her room first, if only to splash cold water over her face.

x

Moments later, Hermione shuffles down the hotel stairs on her way back to the bar. A glimpse of her newly made-up face in the mirror fills her with a new appreciation for foundation and eyeliner. Asinine as it might be, it's quite effective at hiding evidence of tears. And now that she looks like someone else, it won't be much of a leap to act like someone else either.

She pauses at the bar's entrance and takes a deep breath, hesitant to enter. In her absence, the lights have gotten dimmer, the music louder, and the dance floor busier. She has considered sticking with a tried-and-true method of wallowing — hibernating in her hotel room with some snacks and a cheesy movie, and projecting her tragic love life into the tropes of a romantic comedy. Clubs aren't normally her scene, anyway.

But unfortunately, tonight is not a normal night, and her life is definitely not a romantic comedy, so Hermione forces herself to pass into the thick wall of steamy club-air to reunite with the one Weasley that actually matters to her.

It doesn't take long for her to find Ginny on the dance floor — her glowing complexion and elegant red mane stand out in the crowd. It helps that she's accompanied by Luna, whose neon dress and platinum hair give her the appearance of a yellow highlighter.

Watching them dance, Hermione can't help but crack a smile. Ginny's in her element, singing along to a remix of some pop song and radiating with a self-assuredness that's contagious. And Luna has no worries in the world, no concern for the judgmental looks of passers-by as she bounces and waves eccentrically, convulsing to the beat of the music. Her wild movements remind Hermione of an inflatable tube man, dancing in the wind beside the highway.

Luna's a lot, but tonight, the effect is quite pleasant. It's comforting to know that by comparison, Hermione might even look cool in this club.

Ginny spots Hermione and squeals in excitement as she rushes to hug her. "Hey, did you get your I.D.?"

"Yep," says Hermione sharply. "And now I need a drink."

"I'm getting the next round, Hermione," says a male voice from the table. Neville — bless his heart — is smiling and waving at her. "What'll you have?"

"Surprise me, but make it strong!" She tosses her bag to him and he catches it, but not without a fumble.

"Anything?" he clarifies, fishing for her I.D.

"Anything." She doesn't even care if it comes with a straw.

"Attagirl," says Ginny, interlacing their hands, and tugging her toward the thickening crowd of the dance floor.

She obliges, following Ginny's lead, and is once again aware that she's being watched. Normally, it would creep her out to catch a man's eyes lingering on her body, but again, tonight is no longer a normal night, and it's nice to be noticed. Hermione feels appreciated, and not in a platonic marriage-with-no-benefits kind of way.

At the thought of Ron, she glances back to the bar's entrance, scanning the mass of incomers for his flaming hair. Hermione doesn't even want to see his stupid freckled face in the crowd, but for some reason, his absence leaves her more disappointed than relieved. She internally curses that ginger devil; how can someone so undeserving of her attention occupy so much of her mental space?

To the best of her ability, she powers through her disappointment and turns her focus back to Ginny and Luna, right as a dancing Demelza staggers up to them. A few whistles and whoops from the growing crowd bring a blush to Hermione's cheeks. Fuck it — she's in Vegas, she looks hot as hell, and she could have anyone she wants.

Maybe someone else will catch her eye tonight.