#a black moon is a second new moon in a month <- i didn't know that so have the explanation too | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yinyuedijun · 8 months ago

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NIGHT FLOWER: part i

Your place in the world was one of a tool. This was true of every slave: you were all things to be used. Kakavasha understood this about you, and he understood this about himself. It was how he survived all those years ago, and it’s how he survives now. And so, when Aventurine goes into his first heat in years and decides to suffer it alone, you can only think of one way to get him to accept your help: You offer to let him use you.

written for @/lorelune's spring fever collab & @ficsforgaza

13.5k words of omegaverse, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, angst with an eventual happy ending. gn alpha reader + omega aventurine (they each have both amab and afab genitalia). explicit piv sex, reader bottoms, the sex is consensual but emotionally complicated and deeply sad. cw slavery, racism, gendered violence, including very brief and non-graphic (but direct) references to sexual abuse during slavery. the sa and slavery are not eroticized. dead dove do not eat, mdni.

thank you to @acerathia, @minnaci, @owlespresso for all your help with beta reading and to @kosmiccarma for brainstorming omega aventurine hcs!

“I’ve alw███ l█ved ███, Ka██v█s███”

You knew it from the moment you met him.

Gaunt, pallid, weighed down by heavy chains. Irises that glowed like the auroras back in your world. Delicate features that made every passerby in the market stop to read the description on the placard. (Sigonian, it said, although you couldn’t read at the time. Avgin. Male. Omega. Sixteen years old. Sixty Tanba, no tax.) He had an all-consuming scent that was impossible to ignore—one that possessed you, made your heels dig into the dirt, every atom in your body resisting the impatient jerk of the chains at your wrist. Even through your muzzle, through the perpetual stench of carbon-steel and blood, you could smell it: honey and wildflowers. A fragrance that settled deep within you, flooded you with a warmth that felt like home.

Aventurine is not a spiritual person. He once told you this, his smile cold in the glow of an artificial moon. He'd been deeply religious as a child, but hasn’t since cared for fairy tales about fortune and fate, three-eyed goddesses or merciful rainfalls. Hasn't thought about anything like a destined love. He thinks the idea of a true mate is laughable, that no such bond could ever be forged between an omega and an alpha. That nothing so unconditional could ever exist.

You know differently, of course. You've known it from the moment you met him, from the second you laid eyes on him and thought, I need to help you, and I need to protect you, and I need you to be safe, and you’d never once heard the word ‘love’ in your life—slaves are never loved by their masters, after all, and you'd always been nothing but a slave—but every atom of your being knew that you loved him, that you'd always love him.

And when your master cradled your face that night and crooned that he owned you, that you'd always be his obedient, alpha pet—for the first time in your life, you knew that he was wrong.

You didn't belong to your slaver.

You belonged to him.

To Kakavasha.

These days, Aventurine does not smell like honey, and your jaw is not restrained.

Your muzzle was one of the first things that Aventurine threw away when he bought your freedom. According to the Amber Era system, it had been several months since the murder of your shared master. Ninety-five Star Calendar days after the Interastral Peace Corps had arrested Kakavasha. An entire rotation around the black hole at the centre of your wretched galaxy, all of which had been spent in the captivity of some new mistress. She picked you out because she liked your calming scent and the look of your face, but mostly she used you for the fighting pits just like your old master.

Aventurine had been sitting in the audience of your final match, then bought you out right after you won. “I’m in need of a fighter,” he’d said, smiling in his thick furs and jewels. He played the part of a slavemaster perfectly, his gloved hands wandering the span of your aching shoulders, touching the bloodied maw of your mask. “And I’d be willing to pay top credit for yours.”

She protested. You were her most prized possession, one of her greatest investments. Slaves from your planet were hard enough to come by—alphas capable of reproduction, nearly impossible. And you were so well-behaved, so poised, so endearing in a way that was rare for alphas. She was fond of you. Her omega slaves were fond of you too. They would be distraught if you left, and that would complicate her household affairs—and surely Aventurine, as a respectable owner of human capital like herself, could understand how inconvenient that would be?

Aventurine bared his teeth in a gracious smile. (You’d never seen Kakavasha make such an expression before—so disarming, so cunning, a crescent moon beneath snake eyes. He’d never smelt like this either, like an expensive cologne layered with bleach, and it left you feeling nauseous, wondering if he was ill.) He flirted his way into her good graces, made her an offer she couldn’t refuse, and then he brought you into the first-class ship on which he’d arrived. You were so stunned by its luxury—the handwoven carpets, the crushed velvet seats, the imported tea from several galaxies away and the custom-ordered outfit he had bought for you—that you nearly missed the tremble in his hands as he punched numbers into the remote control lock for your chains.

He had regained his composure by the time he pulled away your muzzle, though. He threw it carelessly to the ground—your titanium chains, too. Then kicked both away with his shined leather shoes.

“There,” Aventurine said, smiling cheerfully. “Much better, don’t you think?”

“Vasha—” you started, voice thick with wasted grief, and all you wanted to was reach for him, to double check that he was real, but he placed a finger to your lips and stopped you. You stiffened at the satin touch, but he seemed unbothered.

“‘Aventurine’,” he corrected.

You stared blankly. “What?”

“‘Aventurine’. Like the gemstone. That’s my name now.”

“You—” Your voice caught in your throat. You realized that you’d been holding your breath. You always had the habit of holding your breath in the luxurious, private rooms of very rich men, because you never liked what happened in them. Forcing yourself to breathe, you asked, “You gave yourself a new name?”

“No. The IPC gave me a new name. They gave me a job, too.”

“A job?” you asked, voice faint. Now that you were breathing again, you were noticing once more just how bizarre he smelled. Sterile and expensive and completely foreign. “You’re free now?”

“Well, I’m a freedman, but I don’t know if I’d call myself free. I’m a bit… indebted to the IPC, let’s say. But that’s fine. I can’t complain. I mean—look around. This beats the fighting pits, doesn’t it?” He gestured lazily at your surroundings, and you nodded.

“It’s nice here,” you replied, feeling absurd but not knowing what else to say. Once Kakavasha got talking, it was impossible to get a word in edgewise.

“You like it here? Good. This room’s yours. Mine is the next one over. You’ll live and work here, with me. I’ll make sure you’re paid well. Full benefits, vacation, salary, and overtime. The standard pay for your role is seventy-thousand credits per month, but I’ll see if I can get you more. HR is pretty strict about their hiring policies, but—”

“You’re hiring me?”

Aventurine went very still, his smile tightly controlled. His eyes remained fixed on you, but they seemed less snake-like, now. They looked more familiar. More afraid.

“I’m offering, yes,” he said neatly. “You’ll be part of my personal security detail. I don’t have the contract for you to review yet, unfortunately. I didn’t arrange one ahead of time because, well”—he laughed, as if this were polite conversation and he were making a joke about the weather—“I didn’t know if I’d find you alive. But things worked out in my favour. They always work out in my favour. I’ll make sure they’ll work out in your favour too, so long as you’re with me. So you’ll consider it, won’t you? Staying with—working for me, I mean.”

Your eyes went soft. Beneath the artificial fragrance, you finally caught a hint of his familiar scent—more wildflower than honey at that moment, the way it always is when he’s scared.

“Kakavasha—”

“Name your price,” he said loudly, “and I’ll match it.”

You sighed. “Vasha,” you said more gently, and his shoulders relaxed at the subvocal shift in your timbre, at the famed alpha Voice that necessitated your muzzle, “I don’t care about the money. Of course I’ll stay here. But—what happened? Why did you kill him yourself? Why didn't you let me do it? That was the plan. It was always supposed to be me.”

It was my job, you thought then, just as you had thought to yourself every night, curled up in your bed and trying to recall the scent of fresh honey, to keep you safe.

He shrugged and said, “It would have been too risky to involve you.”

“You were caught and sentenced to death. The risk was already too high.”

“But the stakes weren’t,” he replied simply, and before you could ask what he meant by that, he continued, “and it worked out, didn’t it? I work for the IPC. You work for me. We’re freedmen now. Whatever I've lost, it doesn't matter. Our gains far outweigh it.”

“And what have you lost, Vasha?”

He smiled at you, charming and distracting. A crescent moon beneath snake eyes. “Nothing of value,” he reassured you, and even though you could feel the calm of an omega’s voice washing over you, even though it released all the tension in your body, all you could smell was cologne and wildflowers, and you knew that he was lying.

Vasha once told you, curled up and quiet on the basement floor, that he despised his eyes. They were supposed to be a sign of blessing from Gaiathra Triclops, but they'd never brought him anything but trouble. They were the first thing that the slavers always noticed about him, the feature that made him such an alluring commodity. Their aurora glow, their strange beauty, their promise of a rare opportunity: a chance at owning a specimen of an exotic, endangered species, possibly the last of its kind. These are all things that you've heard in the parlour of your master’s house as he entertained rich company, the crowd of them gawking at his human curios.

Avgin are said to make the most beautiful slaves, he'd often say. And Avgin omegas are said to be the most beautiful among them. What do you all think? They'd all hum, peering closely at Kakavasha’s features, and inevitably someone would joke, I think I'd like to borrow him sometime, and then they would all laugh while your pulse ticked up and you imagined tearing at their throats. Vasha would search for your gaze in these moments, giving you a long, pointed look: Don't do anything stupid.

He’d always been so blasé about it, the way people fixated on his Avgin blood. You'll never understand how. He didn't react to any of the comments, the groping, the innuendos. He was, however, distinctly unimpressed at the way that your master liked to play him up as a rare and expensive acquisition, as a sign of his own status. It's embarrassing to watch, Kakavasha had remarked. Everyone knows that Sigonian slaves are uncommon but cheap—people always think we’ll bring them more trouble than our worth. This was how Kakavasha had ended up in the market in the first place: because his last master had been robbed, and he'd been wrongly blamed for it.

The blame, to this day, has never stopped. People—powerful people, politicians, businessmen, socialites—look at Aventurine’s eyes and immediately reach for their pockets. You've seen it for yourself, these spineless despots and scammers feeling for their wallets. Sigonian, you know they're thinking. Liar, cheat, thief, whore, worthless, worthless, worthless. Your hands tighten around your blade each time, a loaded gun with a finger on the trigger.

Alphas are said to be violent by nature. Aventurine has often called you the one exception to this rule: the most docile, good-hearted alpha he's ever met. But this is a lie. You do have a predator instinct, and it comes out in full-force whenever you’re around these particular types of men. These types who notice Aventurine’s eyes and see a thief; these monsters who see his irises and imagine what it would be like to bed him. You’d kill them if you could. It would be so easy, especially now that you are an IPC dog. The Company is already such a violent force; what would be one more murder?

But Aventurine has never ordered you to punish anyone. (Don't do anything stupid, he always tells you with a glance, smiling through every humiliation.) Nor has he ever seemed bothered enough by these meetings to try concealing his heritage.

A fellow Asset Liquidation Specialist once asked why he didn't just hide his eye colour—it would likely be better for fostering relationships, negotiating deals—but Aventurine had shrugged it off. I'm a gambler working with the IPC, he'd said. Do you really think a pair of coloured contacts would make anyone trust me? He'd laughed, and his voice had carried a threatening edge, and his coworker had shifted visibly at it. Being an Avgin is the least threatening thing about me, wouldn't you say?

You think that Aventurine likes being seen as a threat. Sometimes you wonder if this is why he doesn't mind wearing his eyes so much, but abhors keeping his scent. He washes his clothes until they're free of his disarming sweetness and then masks himself with an unsettling blend of ambergris, jasmine, and wood. And he is on suppressants all the time—hasn’t had a single heat since the day he killed his master. Hasn't smelled like himself, either.

At the end of the day, it’s manageable being an Avgin in this business, he often comments, spraying half a bottle of masking cologne on himself, but you can't be an Avgin and an omega. Wouldn’t you agree?

You'd know better than me, you reply, noncommittally—and truthfully.

But you're an alpha, he observes. Don't you have an opinion?

You don't pay me to have opinions, you always remind him, stone-faced. You pay me to stand here and look scary. And Aventurine always laughs at this, and he always wires you money and calls it a bonus as he pesters you for an answer, and he always gets distracted and starts scrolling through all his shopping wishlists instead. I saw this thing the other day and thought of you. And this too. Would you like either of them? Would you like them both? I’m a very generous manager, you know. I'll buy you anything you like.

But even though he always gets distracted, Aventurine never forgets. Sooner or later, he inevitably circles back to these questions—these anxieties about his scent, about his eyes, about his blood. He never cares for anyone else’s opinions, but he's always been curious about yours. Even when he was Vasha, he wanted to know what you thought.

He’d been sixteen years old and delirious with heat the first time he asked you, face wrinkling with pain as he spilled his thoughts. It was so incoherent, so sad, you thought it must have been about a fever dream. Mama Fenge, he kept saying. Mama Fenge blessed me, She blessed me, I'm blessed, it rained when I was born—did you know that? My luck, I was lucky. The Katicans, they never caught me. They got everyone else, but not me. I was blessed by Her. I'm going to save my people. I will. I'll save my sister. My eyes are proof. My mistress liked them. Said they're beautiful. Worth sixty whole coppers. A blessing. He pulled you close, pressed his scalding face to your scent gland, and his whole body shuddered with relief. This was the first and only time he'd allowed you to hold him, and it was only out of desperation, out of his mind. Do you like them, alpha? Do you like my eyes? Why? Is it because they're beautiful? Because they're from Gaiathra?

“I like them because they're yours,” you'd replied, and Kakavasha had laughed deliriously.

This is when he told you he hated them: I'd close them forever, if I could.

When you were younger—dumber—you had a habit of squirrelling away every spare coin you came across. You collected them in a little purse that one of the omega slaves had sewn for you—a thank-you for always keeping the other alphas away from her—and you hid it underneath a loose floorboard. By the time that Kakavasha was arrested, you'd saved up twenty-nine Tanba. You’d wanted enough to buy Kakavasha’s freedom and then to set him up for a comfortable life.

It had been a stupid plan. An embarrassing one. If you ever confessed it to Aventurine, he'd laugh at you. Slaves can't buy other slaves, he'd say. Leave the schemes to me next time. You’re too good-hearted for it.

You’d already known that, of course. You knew that you didn't have the status to buy him or mate him or even just provide for him, but you wanted to. God, did you want to—you spent every waking moment thinking about it, every sleeping moment dreaming of it. It wasn't even that you desired him, though he was beautiful and fragrant and more delicate than anything that had ever touched you in your life, which was only your master’s hands and your muzzle and your chains. Aventurine would feel so soft in comparison, you’d always figured. It made your heart ache, thinking about getting to hold something so lovely.

But really—that desire came second. What came first was how mated omegas feel safe around their alphas, and you so desperately wanted him to be safe. Kakavasha had looked so frail, so grim, as your master took his chains and led him home from the market, and you could smell the fear coming off him in waves. And you could do nothing to stop it. You had nothing you could use to stop it—nothing other than your hands that could kill for him and your pheromones that could soothe him and your useless heart that wanted to collect sixty Tanba for him. That was all you had.

So you failed in the end. Of course you did. You didn't have the status to buy him or mate him or even just provide for him. You couldn't even do for him the one thing you could have done—which was to kill. And Kakavasha suffered for your incompetence. He had to dirty his hands with blood and gamble his way into wealth and then suddenly he was freeing you, not the other way around.

And now you are comfortable. You'll lead an easy life from now, Aventurine reassured you when he brought you onto his ship all those years ago, and he's kept that promise. What about you? you'd asked him then. Will you lead an easy life with me, if you're working for the IPC? And he had smiled and lied to you: Yes.

It had been a painfully obvious lie. If you were a smarter person, you'd have never believed it in the first place. Aventurine has no interest in leading an easy life, because an easy life would be less profitable, and less profit would mean less safety. And he is always, always worried about being unsafe. It is indiscernible to everyone but you—an alpha (his alpha, always his, even if he doesn't want you) who has watched over him for so long that you can detect every shift in his scent. No matter how much cologne he drowns himself in and no matter how strong his suppressants are, you know when he is afraid.

And here is the bitter truth, the ultimate proof of your shortcomings:

Aventurine is always afraid.

It is a beautiful day on Agnisahr, and you can tell that Aventurine is about to throw up from worry.

You're sitting in the middle of stunning wealth—Aventurine in his feathers and jewellery, you in your tailored jacket—in a lobby made from marble and pale sandstone, with a view of palm trees and rolling, scarlet sand dunes beyond the window. The waitstaff addresses him as Honoured Guest and they keep his crystal chalice filled constantly with water—one of the most expensive commodities on the planet. Aventurine has been drinking from it religiously, which is strange as he typically has the habit of forgetting to hydrate. A faint wildflower scent is drifting from his slender form. These are the only giveaway to his mood: he's otherwise as pokerfaced as ever, smiling calmly as he discusses his plans to sabotage the local government and acquire the planet for the IPC.

“This is a very dangerous mission,” you state flatly.

“All my missions are dangerous.” He takes a sip, one pinky up. “The IPC pays me well for a reason. As they say—”

“‘High risk, high reward.’ I know.” You try not to sound bitter, though you allow yourself to sound tired. “I still do not think the risk is worth the reward in this case.”

“I think over 5.6 million in credits is a great reward, actually. We could do a lot with that kind of money.”

You raise a brow. “What could an extra 5.6 million get you that you can't already buy?” It is—as Topaz would say—‘chump change’ in comparison to his current wealth, which sums to a number so vast that you can't wrap your head around it.

Aventurine pretends to miss the point. “Tons! We could buy a new spacecraft. Get another mansion. Or—we could take a vacation to Penacony. I hear it's quite nice there.” A playful smile. “I could get us a penthouse unit. With a featherbed.”

You frown. Sometimes Aventurine likes to flirt when you're being stubborn—not out of interest, but as a ploy to distract you. He’d developed the habit after he joined the IPC. It used to fluster you, but now it only makes you cross your arms.

“You could die,” you point out.

“You'll protect me.”

“No, I won't. You always find a way to get rid of me when things are most dangerous.” You give him an accusatory stare. “You never let me do my job.”

He's too shameless to deny it. “And it's worked out fine, hasn't it? I haven't died so far.”

“Yes. Just by dumb luck.”

“I beg to differ. My luck is quite reliable.” He sets down his glass. Glances back outside. A microexpression, brows knotting for the briefest second as he studies the sky. “I'm not worried.”

“You're a shit liar.”

That gets him to look at you, letting a small frown pass over his face. “No, I'm actually a great liar. You're just too good at reading me. It's very inconvenient, you know.”

“I can't help it.” You lean toward him, making a show of it as you sniff. An orchid-like scent—faint but unmistakable—has seeped into artificial ambergris and wood. “It's hard to ignore.”

He hums. He isn't frowning anymore—but doesn't look happy, either. “I should change suppressants.” He taps the side of his empty glass, fidgeting. Aventurine never fidgets: it's an amateur giveaway. “These ones clearly don't work well enough.”

“That won't help. I know you too well.” Your eyes soften. He's looking outside again, the blues of his irises distant. “You're worried, Aventurine. More than usual. Let’s back out of this—let Jade handle it.”

“The mission isn't what's bothering me,” he says patiently. “I just don't like this planet.”

“Because you can tell it's dangerous.”

“No. Well—it is, but nothing I can't handle.” He leans back. “I just dislike the weather here.”

You arch a brow. “...the weather?”

“Yes,” he says neatly, “it's too dry here. I'll break out.”

You open your mouth. Close it. It is possibly the most absurd thing you've ever heard, and certainly the worst lie that's ever come from him. For as long as you've known him, Aventurine has had flawless skin, marble-smooth, and ever since being freed, he’s never really cared much for looking handsome so much as looking rich. But he maintains his serious expression: all-in on the farce. “Did you know that outside the capital, this planet hasn't had any natural rain in a quarter of an Amber Era? And the stellar winds are terrible. I don't know how people live on a planet like this.” His eyes narrow at the cloudless sky. “The IPC is going to need to do a lot of terraforming if they want to make this into a merchant hub.”

“Aventurine.”

“It'll be a pain crossing the desert—the elements will ruin my clothes, you know,” he continues. “It won't be so bad while we're on the ships, but we’ve got to go outside from time to time. Can't make any friends otherwise.”

“Aventurine.”

“And there's nothing to do for fun when we’re not working.” He sighs dramatically. “I can't wait to get our 5.6 billion and leave for someplace else. I'm being serious about Penacony, by the way—”

“Aventurine.”

“—though not about the featherbed. I'll get you your own room, obviously. And I'll buy whatever dream experience you’d like. What kind would you want?”

Finally allowed a chance to speak, you say, “One where you retire.”

“Retire? Why would I ever do that?”

“I don't know. Maybe you decide you've made enough money.”

“No such thing.”

“Then you can settle down with someone.”

That makes him smile. It feels mocking. “Me? Settling down? With who?”

“Who knows. Someone who will treat you better than the IPC, I hope.”

“Anyone that nice would run in the other direction. But never mind me. This would be your dream experience. What happens to you in it?”

“I stop chasing after you and get to live out the rest of my days in peace,” you say dryly, and Aventurine blinks. “Please stop deflecting. The IPC gave you a suicide mission. We will both die if we stay here.”

He looks serious now. “I wouldn't let you die.”

“You can't know that.”

“Well, I do. And I've got decent chances at surviving too—at least one in ten.”

You feel like sighing—a deep, aggravated noise is heavy in your throat—but Aventurine doesn't enjoy it when you show anger around him. It's the one omega instinct that he can't ignore, you suppose: unease around an aggressive alpha. Voice tightly controlled, you say, “You’re going to bet your life on one in ten?”

“Sure. My chances were worse on the last planet, and things worked out great. It'll be the same on Agnisahr.” Aventurine raises a hand, calls for the bill. The conversation is over. You lean back in your seat, watching sourly as he pays tens of thousands of credits just for water.

“You know, they say the royal family is backed by an Aeon,” you can't help but point out, once the waiter is gone. A last-ditch effort. Aventurine smiles at it, amused. Like you're a child.

“So what?” He glances outside, at the desolate landscape beyond the oasis—nothing but red sand, a blue, rainless sky, and two radiant suns shining above it all. “The protection of a god is nothing compared to the schemes of human beings. And gods abandon their people all the time, anyway.”

During your tenth day on Agnisahr, you realise that something is deeply wrong.

It takes you some time to understand what’s happening. At first you think that whatever political danger you’ve intuited is much worse than you thought, and that’s why Aventurine has been so pale, so discomforted, so exhausted. Then his scent starts changing—he switches clothes two, three times a day (because of all this heat during Agnisahran days, he tells his new business associates) and spritzes his nape with his cologne almost religiously—and you wonder if he is sick with something. If the food in this planet has something that disagrees with his Sigonian biology, or if he has picked up one of the local filoviruses, or if someone’s poisoned one of his meals because they’ve correctly identified him as a threat. Aventurine dismisses every single one of these theories when you bring it up, and—as if in denial—only attributes it to the weather. (I’ve never done well in deserts, he tells you, his eyes on his phone screen. I'm not used to them. It is above 300 Kelvin, and you do not see a single bead of sweat on his neck, and his cheeks are not even a little flushed.)

You only figure it out when he is too ill to get out of bed one morning and forbids all the IPC staff from coming near his hotel room. It sets off alarms immediately—Aventurine, no matter how sick, will work and see through meetings as long as he is mentally capable of it—and so you naturally ignore his orders and check on him, using the spare key to his sleeping quarters that you're given as a policy. And as soon as the door cracks open—as soon as you step inside only to be hit with a violent, cloying sweetness—you realise what’s happening and slam the door shut behind you.

“You’re in heat,” you blurt out, and Aventurine—a shivering, panting mess on the bed—groans in response.

“Why are you here?” He turns toward you, still lucid enough to glare at you through the tangled mess of his hair. His voice is weak, but no less self-possessed: “I was very clear—no company today.”

“I am your personal bodyguard,” you remind him mildly. Your voice is calm—both non-threatening and non-condescending. “Those orders don’t apply to me. If things feel suspicious, I look into it. And they felt very suspicious.” Your brow knits as you study his clothes. Mulberry silk clings to his form, soaked through with sweat. Thin, eucalyptus sheets are tangled up around him. There are only two pillows. No water bottles. No knotting toys.

Nothing.

“You didn't know you'd be in heat,” you realise. “What happened to your suppressants?”

“I don't know.” There’s a quiet, frustrated edge to his voice. Vulnerable too. It makes you think of when you were both still slaves, and Aventurine was confined to the basement of the manor—the one that all omega slaves were made to ride out their heats in. Either they would do it alone or were ordered to spend it with some alpha, usually either a friend of the master or an alpha slave he wished to reward. That's when they're most pliable, he'd tell his guests, or sometimes even you. They get so desperate they'll present themselves to anyone. Then amused laughter from the other party—How obscene!—as you looked away, blood hammering in your ears.

You had been your master’s favourite. His most obedient, most profitable pet—striking enough for his guests to admire, deadly enough for his audiences to bet on, docile enough for him to enjoy. Good enough for him to reward, and he often rewarded you with his most beautiful slave: his Avgin omega. Just don't mark him, he’d said, fastening the muzzle around your mouth. It'll ruin his market value. Who knows if someday he'd sell Kakavasha off to some alpha master who wished to claim him, he said. Though I don't think there's anyone in this star system who'd want a Sigonian for a mate, let alone a Sigonian slave. Then he’d paused, eyes scanning over you. As if contemplating. But maybe they'd try to get Avgin whelps out of him, he added, and you felt like throwing up.

You'd never mate him in those moments, your muzzle always prevented you from saying. You didn't even want to think about touching him, and he didn't want to think about it either. Even in the cruel grip of his heats, with nothing but the thin mat beneath him and his slave’s rags around him, Kakavasha hadn't wanted any kind of contact from you, rejecting any chance of solace. Don't, don't—not again, not again, he'd begged. Then as the nights marched on and his mind grew hazier, he’d start whimpering too: It hurts, alpha. It hurts. Help me. It hurts. Don't touch me. Not again. It hurts. It hurts. Stop it, please stop it.

It gutted you.

It went against every instinct, not to touch him. To let him lie there, in scorching, lonely pain, when all you wanted to do was to dispel it. It would be so easy to press yourself against him and let his skin cool against yours, do the one thing that your body was good at other than killing. But not again, not again, I can't anymore, I don't want it, I never wanted it, and all you could do was sit there, unmoving. Watch as the most delicate, precious thing you had in your life shatter.

And standing here now, watching Aventurine shatter before you once more—it is unbearable. He needs a nest, you keep thinking. He needs a nest and some water and some kind of touch, some kind of relief, but not again, not again, and you’re still a slave, still a worthless and stupid slave, and Kakavasha is still crying on a basement floor and you can't do anything for him.

“You need help, Aventurine,” you say, voice soft, and his whole body tenses. His scent dips, and the scent of florals overwhelms you.

“No,” he breathes, “I don't.”

“You do. You're sick.” You bite your lip. Your heart splits as you suggest it, but you say, “I can call a professional.”

“No,” he spits. The facade is gone. The poker face has cracked. The anger and the pain and the fear are all on full display, and his voice sharpens: “No strangers.”

No foreign scents, you realise he's demanding. A new scent would probably make him feel unsafe.

Then let me help you, you think of pleading, but not again, not again, and you're filled with so much shame at the thought that all you can do is look away.

“Then—can I do anything?” He goes still. “Not—not that, but something to make you more comfortable. I can build you a nest, at least—”

“No.” He takes a deep, shaking breath. “No nests. I don't need one—”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don't,” he says. His voice is wavering now, on the verge of crumbling with fever and pain. “I've never—I’ve never needed a nest, I don't—I don't want to—” He presses his face into his pillow. “I need—I need to be alone, fuck—”

He doesn't mean to whine. The cry for distress is instinct, something that all omegas are programmed to do in heat. You’ve heard that they’ve evolved to make this noise as a way of appealing to nearby alphas for help, but you think this must be a lie as you never once saw your alpha master giving mercy to any of his omega slaves. Still, whether it is your biology or not—the noise that Aventurine makes has your heart aching so much you can't help but step forward. But he shakes his head and inches away, shuddering violently, and then his voice echoes again in that cold basement—not again, not again, and don't touch it anymore, don't use it anymore, don't use me anymore, not again, and it's all you can do to back away until your spine is pressed against the door.

“I'm sorry, Vasha,” you say, strained. “I’m sorry. I'll leave you now.”

As the door shuts behind you, you catch a final glimpse him—face pressed into the pillows, shivering.

If you didn't know better, you'd think he was crying.

When you were both slaves, Aventurine hated seeing you during his heats.

Kakavasha was normally calm around you. Most of the time, he was even friendly (he was friendly to everyone whom he thought could be useful), but he was different during his heats. Sometimes he was vicious; mostly he was withdrawn. Nearly always, he wanted to be left alone. In those moments, all he could register was your alpha scent and his memories of what other people had done to him during his heats. And while you'd have hated to leave him, despised the idea of him being offered to another alpha—even more than that, you hated violating this boundary of his. Hated that you were allowed to do whatever you wanted to him. Hated being the reason he felt so unsafe.

Hated being an alpha.

Now that you no longer have the orders of your slavemaster hanging over you, it is the least you can do to respect Aventurine’s wish of being left alone. He has every right to privacy, and you have every obligation to give it to him. But instead you have been standing here, outside his door, for a full system-hour.

Every time you try to leave, your body is wracked with anxiety. The thought of other people—other alphas—coming near him in this state makes you seethe, your hands flexing at your side. The predator instinct comes out, and the people around you notice it. Every person unlucky enough to walk down this hall scurries away under your glare, even the other IPC staff wandering about to look for Aventurine: Must be their mate on the other side, they remark to one another, and then they're gone.

It is a hard thing to hear. You are not his mate. You are not even a heat partner. If you were, then he wouldn't be in so much pain. Not now, and not back then.

Aventurine has never had easy heats. You keep replaying your memories of all his past ones, each one a wound in your heart: the aching sweetness of nectar and honey; his withering body as he clutched his abdomen and curled up; the tears and sweat staining the mat beneath him. And above all: the fear. The scent of it, the sight of it, the sound of it in his voice. Stronger today than any other day.

By instinct, you know that he cannot persist like this. That this time is somehow worse than all those other times, and that he will become seriously ill if left alone.

After nearly an hour and a half, you finally open the door, fearing the worst.

“Aventurine?” you say quietly, but there's no response, and your stomach drops as you see him.

His body is pale, listless. If it weren't for the fragrance washing over you or the sweat on his temple, you'd worry that he was dead.

Tentatively, you reach out. Rest a hand on his forehead, and it scorches you. He stirs at the touch, doesn't open his eyes—but the quiet sigh of relief is unmistakable. His fingers twitch, as if wanting to reach for you.

“Aventurine,” you say gently. “Aventurine, I'm going to take care of you. Is that alright?”

He doesn't respond. You grimace, pulling away to fetch things for him: several spare pillows from the closet, an extra blanket too. From his suitcase, you grab a few of his sweaters, all thick cotton and fleece. He’d had a sense that Agnisahr would be cold at night. Deserts always get cold after sundown, since sand doesn’t retain heat, he'd told you while he was packing. Or I think so, anyway. Don't know why. Must have read it somewhere. Then he’d given you a long, unreadable look before saying, Make sure to bring a jacket. The warmest one you have. The elements on a planet like Agnisahr can kill a person—even a person like you.

I’m sure I’ll be fine, you’d dismissed him. I can survive anything. Any kind of weather, any kind of illness, any kind of pain: these are all things your species is known for being able to endure, the trait that made you such a prized slave in your master’s eyes, such a useful agent at the IPC. You hadn’t given Aventurine’s warning any thought and hardly paid attention to what you’d thrown into your own suitcase.

It surprises you, then, that you find one of your sweaters in his luggage. Made from Sedanian cashmere and heat tech designed by the Intelligentsia Guild. Cloud-soft and warm to the touch. Aventurine had bought it for you before you were deployed to Jarilo-IV to collect intelligence for Topaz. Warmest thing in the known universe, he’d commented. One of a kind, too. Remember to wear it, alright? Don't let my money go to waste, now.

You stare at it, kneading the fleece between your fingers. You hadn’t mentioned wanting to bring this sweater. You’d lost it in your closet some months ago and forgot about it. Aventurine must have remembered and gone looking for it, because—why? You aren't sure. Probably because it’s warmer and softer than anything he owns, you guess. Of course he’d want to wear it.

You throw it into the pile of things you’ve collected for him.

You take it all to his bed, the mattress dipping as you sit next to Aventurine. One by one, you scent each item with your wrist, watching him carefully the whole time. You’re quiet as you lay them out around him, leaving him undisturbed as you build a nest. You order water and electrolyte drinks too, and you’re quick about going to the door when you hear room service knocking—with how feverish he is, he probably badly needs it.

Aventurine is awake when you come back. His breathing is still laboured, pained—but calm.

“I said I didn’t need a nest,” Aventurine says, though he doesn’t sound angry. You wonder if he’s too weak to be. His voice is faint, and his eyes are barely open—focused on the pile of blankets and clothing around him.

“You’re welcome.” You open a bottle of water, hold it out to him. “Drink.”

Aventurine pauses, stares at the offering like it's some kind of foreign object. But he accepts it eventually, sitting up and taking it from you. He winces with the movement, which he tries to hide. He ignores your frown as he drinks, and he doesn't stop until the bottle is empty.

“There are more,” you say, pointing at the several additional bottles on the nightstand. “And some food and some painkillers. I don't know how well they’ll work. This isn't a normal heat. If you're alright with it, I'll call a doctor and—”

“Everything smells like you,” he says quietly, and you stop.

“...yes. Unless they’re mated, nests usually feel most comforting to an omega when they smell like an alpha.” You swallow, looking away. “...you don't have a mate, and you didn't want a professional, so this was the only option I could think of. I'm sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he says. He picks out one of the sweaters that have made its way into the nest, the Sedanian one. “I don't mind it.”

“Oh.” You let out a breath. “Then—can I call a doctor?”

His grip on the sweater tightens. “No.”

You frown. “Aventurine—”

“I’ve never needed a doctor before,” he says. He sounds unbothered, but he's fidgeting with the sweater now. “I don't need one now.”

A lie. He almost certainly needed a doctor in some of his prior heats, but you don't push the matter. “Maybe you don't need one,” you say instead, “but it would help.”

“I don't need help,” he says, and you look at him in disbelief. He catches your expression, and the corner of his mouth lifts. “Not more than you've already done, I mean.”

“I’ve barely—”

“Contact Topaz. Tell her I'm incapacitated. Tell her…” He hums. “Tell her I have food poisoning. The personnel too. It's not time-sensitive, our business on Agnisahr, so it shouldn't matter if I need a few days off.”

“You really need—”

“Give my regrets to our Agnisahran friends. Deliver it in person. They see you as my right hand, so they’ll most appreciate it coming from you. Topaz can help you with the verbiage. And—try to socialise with them a little, won't you? I think that little omega princess of theirs likes you. Some of the courtesans too, and they have surprising influence.”

“I do not want to be around any omega other than you right now,” you say before you can stop yourself, and Aventurine stops, blinking. His expression is blank, if perhaps a little curious—but his scent shifts. You can't identify how. You add quickly, “I’m not leaving you alone when you’re this sick.”

“Ah. Right.” Aventurine looks away. His voice sounds strange, and his heat must be getting to him again, because it carries a hint of pain. “But you have to. The IPC’s goals take priority.”

You frown. “Your life is more important than the IPC,” you say, and he laughs. Loudly.

“What? This is just a heat. I’m not going to die.”

“You don’t know that without seeing a doctor.”

“I do. I’m willing to bet money that I won’t die.” He cuts you off before you can reply: yes, you're always willing to bet on your life. “And even if I do, that would still be less important than Agnisahr. Do you know how many resources are on this lifeless rock?” His mouth slants. “If we mess up here, I’m dead anyway.”

“I wouldn’t let them touch you.”

“Yes, you would—because they would kill you too.” Aventurine sighs. His eyes close, and his brow creases—a sign that whatever reprieve he was lucky enough to get is about to end. “Go do what I asked. Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll… see a doctor if you do.”

You stand immediately. “Alright. I’ll be back to check on you.”

“I know.”

You stop at the door, giving him a long look. Seeing him like this—lying on a proper bed, cradled in a warm nest, with water and food and medicine nearby—you feel a little better. This is leagues beyond what he’d been afforded in his days as a slave, at the very least. Even if he isn’t free, at least he isn’t trapped.

But it still doesn’t feel good, having to step away. The last thing you want to do is talk to other people, pretend to have interest in other omegas. There are an astonishing number of them who are interested in you on this planet—that princess, and some baron’s son, and one of the prince’s favourite paramours—but you can’t bring yourself to care even for business purposes when Aventurine is like this. You can't act as if you are enjoying yourself when you know he is in pain.

You wonder about telling Topaz the truth. You wonder if she’d be worried enough about Aventurine to let you neglect this mission and cover for you instead, without letting Jade or Diamond or anyone else dangerous know. Not that you think that anyone at the Company particularly cares about Kakavasha—it’s only that he’s valuable. Aventurine of Stratagems is valuable. How many worlds have fallen because of him?

But he seemed unwilling to bet on his worth to them. Which is startling, given how often he's bet on it in the past.

“What’s so important about this planet,” you can’t help but ask, “that the IPC would rather you die than lose it?”

He’s silent for a long moment. His eyes are closed—hidden—but you can see his knuckles whiten as he clutches the Sedanian sweater.

“Copper,” he says. “They want it for the copper.”

When Kakavasha first suggested a friendship to you, it had felt like something in between a proposition and a threat:

Go ahead, he'd said. Use me as you wish. You can even stab me in the back if you want. Just be mindful of this: I don't make deals that don't pay off.

It might have been a strange way of making friends in any other circumstance, but in a house of slaves, it was a natural one. You had not been a clever person—still aren't—but you understood that your place in the world was one of a tool. This was the place of all slaves: you were all things to be used. Your body was a thing to be used. It was valuable for its strength, for its hardiness, for its threat in the arena and for its convenience in your master’s bed (or in a dark basement, or within a heat house, or inside whichever omega your mistress ordered you to calm down). It did not surprise you that Kakavasha wanted to use it as well. It did not surprise you that Kakavasha expected you to use him in return.

You never would have, of course. Kakavasha was not a thing to be used—he had always been a mate. Though you were happy to let him use you, because all you were was a tool anyway, so it was really all you could offer him: to be used.

None of this has changed for you. You don't think any of this has changed for Aventurine, either. With each new friendship he makes, he repeats those familiar words: Use me as you wish. And with each person who accepts, this is exactly what they do: they use him, and they use him, and they use him until suddenly they notice he's tricked them and they've got the losing hand.

You damned gambler, they always spit. You Sigonian wretch. All you know is how to manipulate people. Thief, liar, cheat, whore. Despite all these insults, Aventurine always smiles at them. Cry as they might, he’s won his bet and has their world in his palms.

Winner takes all, he sometimes gloats.

Winning and losing. Using and being used. Exploitation and treachery. This is all Aventurine knows; these are his great guiding principles in life. (He's told you this point blank, stacking up chips in his favourite gambling dens with a self-satisfied grin.) You often find yourself coming back to these conversations, particularly when you need to convince him of something.

And right now, you very badly need to convince him of something.

Aventurine is ignoring his doctor’s advice. His suppressants are unstable in extreme temperatures, he's been told. During travel on Agnisahr, they'd degraded, and now he’s experiencing his first heat in several years. Of course it's going to be painful, his doctor had said. I can prescribe you some medication to ease the symptoms, but really—nothing will work better than a heat partner. It doesn't need to be a mate. Any alpha will do.

The doctor had been an alpha. You had asked for a beta or omega, but alphas tend to dominate in Interastral Medical Schools, so they're in short supply. Aventurine had been still the whole time, face unreadable, but you could tell he wanted to throw up at the stench of an unfamiliar alpha. You had stepped between the two of them, not bothering to hide the animosity in your voice. We’ll take the medication, you had said, and the doctor had sniffed the air and nodded at you in approval.

Probably won't need it. An alpha like you could sort him out with just a few rounds, he told you, and both of you stayed quiet as he left.

You still aren't talking, or even looking at each other. Aventurine has lay down in his nest again, closing his eyes, while you stand as far away as physically possible—at the door where you'd just shown the doctor out. With the room shut off again, windows closed and door locked, Aventurine’s scent is starting to flood your senses once more. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch him shivering.

“What do you want to do?” you ask.

“Nothing.” He swallows. “I'll be fine.”

He's afraid. You can tell he's afraid. And you can tell he’ll be more afraid if you take even a single step closer to him, so you nod and say, “I'll go pick up your medication, then,” and Aventurine doesn't stop you. You can see him curling up in his nest, face pressed into the cashmere sweater.

But he still doesn't stop you.

After a few more days, Aventurine finally breaks.

There is a rare sag to his shoulders when he calls you to the room, along with a taste of dread in the air. You haven't seen him so vulnerable in years. Aventurine is not an open person, so cunning and self-possessed in his wealth—but Kakavasha was more brittle, more powerless, flayed raw and open even though he didn't often get the whip. (It would ruin his value if he ever scarred—his looks were his greatest selling point, your master said.) He was especially defeated when forced to spend his heats with an alpha he didn't want. You wonder, a vice grip of pain around your heart, whether this entire situation is simply an extension of that. Whether he is calling you here against his will, this time compelled by his pain, rather than his master. Whether this luxury suite feels like that wretched basement to him.

He doesn't look at you when he talks, nor does he sit up. He remains curled in his nest, nearly clinging onto the blankets and clothes.

“That stupid medication,” he pants out, sharp even in his heat, “isn't working.”

“I can tell.” Your brow knots. He’s in so much pain, it is palpable. “I”—you hesitate, voice dropping. “Can I help you?”

He goes quiet. As both Aventurine and Kakavasha, he has always been disinclined to accept help from other people. There is no such thing as unconditional help in his mind—only leverage and weakness. He hates it when people have leverage over him, and he hates being weak. Both are things that can be exploited, and Aventurine always needs to be the one doing the exploiting. He always needs to be in control.

Even like this, the last threads of his sanity about to snap, with every circuit of his omega biology trying to drag him into insensible lust, he fights viciously to be in control.

Winning and losing. Using and being used. Exploitation and treachery. Control and being controlled. This is how he's always lived. This is how he's always survived.

This is the only way to let him maintain control when he is most afraid of losing it.

“I don't mind,” you say quietly, “if you use me.”

Even through the haze of heat, Aventurine’s eyes sharpen. “What?”

“I don't mind if you use me,” you repeat, voice neutral. Unfeeling. The proposal might sound cruel to someone else, but not you. After all—your place in the world is one of a tool, and this is what you've always done as an alpha and a slave: sleeping with people to take care of their needs, or sometimes just their desires. It did always make you feel strangely hollow, but you think it will feel just fine with Aventurine. All you've ever wanted to do is keep him safe, and surely, this will do that, but—

“I'll only help if you want. I don't want to force it.” You lower your eyes. “But if you do want it, I'll be careful with you. You can lead. I promise.”

“...I know.” Aventurine’s voice is weak, cracks with pain, but you can tell he's speaking with clarity. “I know you will be.”

You look up. “Then you'll let me help?”

Aventurine looks away—a sign that he cannot adopt his usual smile. He’s clutching that sweater again, pressed close to his chest.

“Just your wrist,” he says quietly.

You listen carefully. “What?”

“I just—I just want your wrist.” He looks away. “Your—your scent gland. Only that.”

“Okay.”

You get up, then falter. When it was your job to comfort your mistress’ omega slaves, you were told to enter their nests—no permission needed from them, no permission needed from you, because only her permission ever mattered for anything. The omegas were usually too delirious to care, often had even begged for it with the state of mind that they were in. But Aventurine is different. He's not like you, and he's not like them. He's never bent to any of his masters’ wills. And even if he did, you wouldn't want to have him bend to yours.

Instead of climbing into his nest, you ask, “Can I sit on the bed?” He doesn't answer. “Just the edge of it,” you add, and you hear him exhale.

“Fine,” he says, breathing measured.

“Thank you,” you say, and he gives you a confused look. But then you're reaching out with a hand, offering it, and he is quickly distracted.

Aventurine drops the sweater, grabs your hand almost immediately. He turns over your palms, fingers tracing your heartlines—as if testing you, as if mapping out territory. He runs his thumbs along the veins of your wrists, too, right over your scent gland, and you have to force yourself not to shudder at the feeling. You only stay still, letting him explore the contours of your hands, letting him acclimate to the feeling of your skin. He laces his fingers with your own, a latticework trap, and he finally drags his wrist along yours.

Both of you inhale sharply.

You can't react. You know it'll scare him if you do, but it's hard to keep still. The way his scent blossoms, the way it mingles with yours, the way it all washes over you—what you're doing can hardly be called touching, but you feel like you're going mad. Especially when he flushes like that, his vibrant eyes fluttering shut. Especially when the sweetness of honey overtakes your senses. Especially when you can smell the way his body is reacting, all that wetness and heat and slick dripping between his legs. You don't miss the way his thighs rub together, nor the hard outline of his cock straining against his pants.

Aventurine shudders. He brings your hand up to his face, rests his cheek in your palm. His skin is flushed and burning with fever, and it's no wonder that he's sighing with relief at your touch. You try not to stare at the way his mouth falls open. He looks at you for a moment, his gaze a hazy violet and blue—before he closes his eyes again and presses his lips into your wrist.

Fuck.

“Aventurine—” You have to stop, voice strangled, when you feel the full softness of his lips working against your skin. He’s panting now, laboured breaths sweeping over your veins. Then you feel his teeth catch, a gentle nip on your flesh, and when he groans into your racing pulse—deep, relieved, desperate, a noise that makes your gut flare with heat—you realise you can't do this.

You pull back your hand, and Aventurine startles.

“Aventurine,” you say, voice strained. Maybe we should stop, you want to say, but he cuts you off.

“I need”—a shaky breath—“I need more.”

You watch Aventurine carefully. His pupils are dilated, blue irises nearly eclipsed. His cheeks are rosy, and he can't stop panting. You can fully smell his arousal now, even through his silk clothes. He's desperate, needing to be filled.

But he also looks torn. His brows are knotted, and you can taste a faint hint of fear in the air now. His knuckles clutch at the sheets, almost white, and he stares at them. He can't look up. He can't look at you. His whole body is tense, like he wants to bolt—and if he weren't so weak, you think he might actually.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

He doesn't nod. He also doesn't shake his head. His arms clutch at his midsection as he winces. He doesn't look like Aventurine. He looks like Kakavasha. It makes your heart ache as you watch him give into his body’s demands, wearing the same expression he did on the day your master bought him.

“...don't use your Voice on me,” Aventurine—Kakavasha—says quietly.

It takes you a moment to realise what he's asking. “I won't.”

“And”—his eyes somehow grow even more evasive, hidden by his long lashes— “don’t touch my commodity code.”

His commodity code. His commodity code that is seared into his scent gland. His code that, if you kiss, will ease his agony instantly. His code that, if you bite—will chain him to you irreversibly.

“Of course I won't,” you say instantly.

He closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath.

“And—” Aventurine looks away, jaw tight. His voice is quiet but wrought with tension: “—I don't like when people put things inside me.”

Something claws the walls of your heart.

“That's fine too,” you reply. “I don't mind doing it the other way.”

Aventurine’s sigh is nearly inaudible, but unmistakable. His scent shifts a little bit, the wildflower fragrance fading ever so slightly. But he doesn't come to you. He merely sits there—waiting. Expecting. Maybe dreading. Even in the senseless daze of heat, he’s too anxious to move.

You approach slowly. Though you're overwhelmed by the bouquet of his scent, though you feel a curl of heat in your belly in response to it—you are slow. Alphas are supposedly victims of insatiable lust whenever around an omega in heat, absolved of every action they take, but you are convinced this is a lie. You have never once wanted to handle Aventurine with such cruelty. You think that inflicting violence on him, more than anything else, would go against your biology. Every molecule in your body would reject putting him in such pain or inciting such fear. So you are careful when you approach him, slow as you inch up to him—but you do not think it helps.

Aventurine lies down, his face turned away from yours. His eyes squeeze shut, like he's expecting this to hurt. Uncertainty gnaws at your gut as you lean over him, draping your body over his—the only position you've ever taken an omega in, other than mounting them from behind.

(You do not want to mount Aventurine. You never have. It is an impersonal position, a position that omega biology supposedly would force him to enjoy, a position that alphas have likely dictated him to enjoy. You think there is nothing you would hate more. In your weakest, most selfish moments, in your worst ruts, when you’ve allowed yourself to fantasise about mating Kakavasha—you are always facing each other, and he is always looking at you with his eyes you've always loved, and it always feels intimate. Never impersonal. Never dictated. Never forced.)

Aventurine is so honeysweet beneath you. More fragrant than any omega you’ve ever been with. You glance at his commodity code, trying to ignore the scent of his branded skin, then lean down to press your face against the other side of his neck, where a faint scar mars the otherwise flawless slope of his nape. Like every other omega slave you've ever slept with, the scent gland there has been excised: a precautionary measure to reduce the risk of an unwanted mating bite.

(Not unwanted by them—the wants of a slave never matter—but unwanted by their owners. A mating bite would ruin the code seared into their neck, claim an omega more deeply and permanently than any titanium collar or carbon steel chain. It would hurt their resale value. Only owners are allowed to claim slaves in such a permanent way—and the wants of a slave have no relevance there, either.)

It's a funny thing, this surgical scar. Even with their gland missing, you've noticed that most omegas like having their neck scented by you anyway, probably from some vestigial instinct. You guess that Aventurine won't be any different, that maybe it will comfort him. But when your lips skim the scar left on him by his owner, his entire body stiffens beneath you. His fragrance cuts into your lungs, sharp.

You recoil, as if burned by the touch of him.

“Sorry,” Aventurine is quick to say. He tries to glance at you, but his diamond pupils quickly avoid you again. “Don’t worry about me. Just do whatever you need to do.”

“But you're scared,” you point out, and you see his brow twitch. “You’re scared when I touch you.”

“Not scared,” he lies. “Just…”

When his eyes finally look at you—land on your lips—you understand.

A bite would claim an omega more deeply and permanently than any titanium collar or carbon steel chain. If you lost your mind—give into the insatiable lust of an alpha whenever around an omega in heat—you might bite him, and then you would own Aventurine.

And Aventurine would rather die than be owned by anyone again.

He doesn't need to finish his sentence. You already know what you need to do.

“It's okay,” you say gently, and his brow knots. “I have an idea.”

Aventurine is always afraid.

This is a fact that has haunted you since the day you met him. You've wondered about how to fix it—the bare minimum as his mate (always his, even if he doesn't want you)—and you’ve never quite pinned down how. Because when someone has spent their life in perpetual fear, how do you make them feel safe? When their life is constantly at risk, how do you ever make them feel calm?

You still aren't sure of the answer. But after seeing Kakavasha become Aventurine, you now have a good guess.

It is clear from his scent that Aventurine does not feel remotely safe right now. Not when you leave to fetch something from your own room, and not when you return. The anxiety thickens when he sees, in your hands, a very familiar muzzle.

Aventurine stares. He is not smiling, but he also does not reveal his discomfort on his face, even as beads of sweat line his temple. But his voice is too controlled, too calm, when he asks, “You kept the mask.”

You nod.

“I told you to throw it out,” he points out, “when I freed you.”

“I know. Sorry. I don't know why I kept it.” You remember how tightly you clutched it before the incinerator, thinking about how strange it would feel, discarding something that you'd worn everyday since you presented—but you don't tell him this. Instead, you say, “But it’s convenient.”

Before Aventurine can say anything, you toss him the remote.

“You’re afraid of my bite and my Voice, but you don't have to be with this,” you explain. Your tone is gentle, soothing. Probably disarming coming from an alpha, with how he is in heat. Perhaps that's why he’s studying the remote rather than chucking it away. “You'll be in full control if I wear this.”

Control. Mere seconds after you say it, you can smell his fragrance change again, mellowing. It's only a brief moment of calm that fades when you latch the mask onto your face, but he doesn't smell as nearly as stressed before.

Aventurine watches you carefully as the carbon steel swallows your maw, its old and familiar edges biting into you. For the first time in years, you cannot tell what he is thinking—truly poker-faced even to you.

“You aren't bothered by wearing that thing while we do this,” he says—asks?—and you shake your head. The muzzle was part of you for years. You were wearing it when you killed someone for the first time. You were wearing it when you went into rut for the first time. You were wearing it when your master had sex with you for the first time. It doesn't bother you that you’ll wear it when you have sex with Aventurine.

If you could speak, you would ask him, Why do you think it would bother me? But all you do is gesture for him to sit up. To switch places with you. You lie down—something you've never done with an omega—and wait for him to get on top.

Aventurine stares at you for a long, quiet moment. It's followed by a sigh of relief. Disarmed, he—for the first time in any heat you've witnessed—finally relaxes. His scent wafts over you as he climbs between your legs, and you can feel the heat radiating from his hands as he parts your thighs, almost scalding.

He doesn't bother getting you ready, too needy to think rationally, but he doesn't have to anyway. You've been wet ever since you felt his mouth touch your wrist, hard ever since you heard him groan into it. You're equally desperate to get some relief as you feel his cockhead sliding against your opening, leaking all over your entrance as his slick drips onto your thighs. His breath shakes as he enters you, and he can't hear it with how you're muzzled—but you groan just as deeply as him at the tight stretch.

You hear him swear when you clench around him, watch him lean over you. His arms shake as he supports himself, refusing to succumb to his heat even as he chases his relief. You seek out his gaze (just as in your dreams, facing each other, intimate), and his neon eyes catch on your eyes for a brief, breathtaking second—

—before he looks away.

There's a flash of—you don't know what, maybe pain? Or fear?—in his irises as he does. A twitch of the brow, a tell he'd normally rather die than let slip. You have the realisation, as Aventurine moves inside you, that even while you're muzzled, even while he has complete control over you—he still can't stand having sex with you. Probably because he can't stand being in heat in general, you tell yourself. Don't touch me, don't touch me, don't use it anymore, don't use me anymore. He'd have this reaction to anyone.

Still—you didn't expect him to have this reaction to you.

Your hands twitch, possessed by an old instinct to cover your eyes. But you'd probably scare Aventurine if you moved your arms, so all you do is dig your fingers into the sheets and squeeze them shut. You tell yourself again and again that he'd hate having sex with anyone in these circumstances—not just you. And then you tell yourself, as a desperate, broken moan leaves his branded throat, that he would also come inside anyone in these circumstances, caught within the cruel grip of his heat.

Aventurine stills inside you as he finishes. He pants, sweat dripping down his temple as he shudders in his ecstasy, his spend hot and thick inside you. You can feel his fever break as he comes down from his high, the heat coming off his body easing into a manageable warmth.

Do you feel better, you try to say, but you can't move your mouth while your mask is on. So you wait patiently for Aventurine to come back to himself, watching him carefully as he pulls out and rolls onto the mattress beside you. He finally glances at you then. His eyes narrow once they land on you, confusion flicking through them. Then displeasure. He reaches for the remote.

To your surprise, he immediately punches in the code to unlock your muzzle. Aventurine has apparently remembered the numbers after all these years, as if the moment he freed you has been since seared into his memory.

“Are you okay?” is the first thing you say, and Aventurine gives you a confused look. He’s still panting, dazed, so you ask, “Can I check your temperature?” And when he nods, you confirm your suspicion: he's still much too warm.

There is an ache between your legs and a strange hollow in your gut (because you aren't very experienced with receiving, you think—your body likely just isn't used to the feeling of it), but you quickly forget them. All you can think of is Aventurine, and how he’s still unwell, and how you need to comfort him. The instinct is so strong that you don't even say anything as you get up, straightening out your clothes.

“Are you leaving?” Aventurine asks. His voice is neutral, completely unbothered, but the thought is so horrific to you that you turn back to him with wide eyes.

“Of course not. I'm going to get you water and medicine.” A beat. You stare at Aventurine’s eyes, then think about how he hid them from you during sex. The hollow feeling comes back, but it's mostly eclipsed by your anxiety at the next thought: “...do you want me to leave?”

“Do you want to?”

“I—” I'd rather die, you think. Being forced to leave him right now would feel like tearing out a piece of yourself. You don't know if there's an alpha in this world who could leave their mate in the middle of a heat. And even if he is unmarked, unattached to you—you still think of yourself as his mate. (His, always his, even if he doesn't want you.) “I would prefer not to. I am your heat partner. I'm supposed to take care of you.”

You hear a quiet breath. “Right. Of course. You're always so conscientious.” Aventurine nods, as if convincing himself of something. “Try not to take too long.”

“I’ll come back soon,” you promise, and the air sweetens. Encouraged, you add, voice gentle: “I’ll bring that medication, and then we can have sex as many times as you need after I come back. I'll make sure you're not in any pain anymore.” You pause, studying him. “Is there anything else you need to feel better?”

His fragrance changes once more, this time in a way you don't totally recognize. “No.” His voice sounds strange. His scent is still foreign, fluctuating, possibly hinting at some kind of pain. The heat must be getting to him again—and of course it wasn't enough, what you just did, what you can provide. He likely needs to be filled to get any kind of lasting relief, but you left him empty. “No, that's all I want.”

You nod, forcing yourself to look calm. Ignoring the emptiness in your gut. It didn't feel bad, but you hope it'll feel better next time you have sex. You think it will. Alphas are supposed to be filled with an insatiable lust near omegas in heat, after all. And even though you’ve never felt that before—never felt anything sleeping with all those omegas in your mistress’ house—you are sure you'll eventually feel it around Aventurine.

But the feeling never comes. Even though you can tell that his heat has returned by the time you're back—sweat beading his temples, laboured breaths at his lips, his bottoms now discarded, with full evidence of arousal between his legs—you don't feel much of anything as you reach for your mask again.

“Don't,” Aventurine says, before it can clasp around your face. You give him a curious look. He explains, “Don't. I don't want to have sex again. Not yet.”

You stare at him, shifting. Uncomfortable. Uncertain. Not knowing how he wants to use you. “What can I do?”

He gives you a long look. “Come here. I… I want your scent gland.”

It's a sensible request. If there's a way to seek relief without fucking someone—without fucking you, which he clearly hated doing—you're sure Aventurine would prefer it. So you climb into his nest, holding your wrist out for him, and—

“No.” His voice is quiet. “I want the one on your neck.”

“...oh.”

You stand there, not sure where to move. If he wants you in his nest again, or if he’d rather do this standing. You’re relieved when he demands, “Lie down.”

You expect him to get on top of you when you do. Assume that he wants complete control—but he instead lies down beside you. Presses his body into yours, and then his face into your neck. His nose and lips brush against your scent gland, a full-body shudder running through him, and—

—and now you know for a fact that it is a lie that alphas want nothing other than to fuck an omega when they're in heat. Because even like this, with his lips sweet on your neck, with the sheets soaked with his slick, with his spend leaking out of you—you do not want to have sex with Aventurine. You only want to hold him. You only want him to keep scenting you. You only want to scent him back.

You only want him to feel safe.

You breathe in deeply, lungs flooded by honey. You think of what it felt like to hold him in that cold basement, when he was delirious with fever and pain, and you think about how different his scent is now. How much sweeter it is. How much calmer he feels.

“Do you feel better?” you ask, and he doesn't respond, but you know the answer. His hands come up to dig into your shirt, and he presses into you like you're a sweater in his nest. Silence blankets over you both, calm and warm. His laboured breath starts to improve.

He does eventually speak.

“Has anyone ever told you,” he says, “what you smell like?”

You stare at him. Your master used to say that you smelled good, but he'd never elaborated, and you hadn't wanted him to. “No.”

Aventurine breathes in.

“You smell like—” A little sigh, shaking and feverish, leaves him. “You smell like rain.”

Your eyebrows tick up. “Rain?”

“Yes. Or not just rain, but”—he pauses, next words quiet—“more Iike after it rains. You smell like the desert after a rainfall.”

“Oh.” You don't know what to say to that. Feeling distinctly like it's a silly question, you ask, “Is that a good scent?”

“Some would think so. Especially to people from the desert. You probably smell like a blessing to them. Although…”

Aventurine goes quiet again. You stare at the chandelier above you, all crystal and white gold, and wait.

“Although?” you prompt.

“...although I wouldn't really know,” he says. “It’s just a hunch. I bet it's why so many omegas on this planet like you.”

You couldn't care less about those other omegas. All you care about is Aventurine. “And?” you say. “Do you like my scent?”

His reply never comes. He just breathes deeply again, seeking relief from your neck—not intimacy. Any alpha’s scent would work; that doctor told you so. Any alpha’s touch would work, too. There are no special feelings involved here. Your place in the world is one of a tool, and tools are never especially liked nor disliked. Their value exists only in how they can be used.

You don't know why you even bothered to ask the question.

But then something strange happens: Aventurine curls against you, pressing even further into you. His lashes flutter against your pulse again; it ticks up in response, beating fast against his lips.

“I do,” he says quietly. “I do like it.”

You swallow. “But I guess that's because you're in heat. Any alpha would smell good to you, wouldn’t they?”

“No.” His fingers dig into the fabric of your shirt. “No, I like it because it's yours.”

You know better than to read too much into his response. Aventurine had already said it earlier: No foreign scents. He's only tolerating this whole arrangement because you don't smell unfamiliar to him. Only able to use you because you are the least threatening option.

But the words break something in you—break the thing that made you unable to throw out that little pouch of copper coins that you were saving up for Kakavasha’s freedom, the part of you that made you wear that carbon-steel mask for him. It is this part of you that has your eyes squeezing shut and your arms wrapping around him. You know he’ll recoil, reject you, but just this once—you need to try.

Aventurine doesn't push you away.

He melts into you instead, inhaling deeply. Your scent gland tingles with the warmth of his breath, the feeling of his lips. He seems—comfortable.

You can't fathom why he’s staying in your arms. Perhaps he's simply desperate for some kind of relief from his heat, just like when you held him in the basement while he was delirious from pain. But Aventurine had spoken to you with clarity just now, and his skin doesn't feel scalding so much as warm, and his scent is so different than from that moment. So sweet and so gentle, without a trace of fear. It makes your heart squeeze. As much as you've always wanted Aventurine to feel safe, you'd never imagined that his scent would be so beautiful when he is.

It makes your heart ache. You've never held anything so lovely before, and you’ve never felt so warm before, and it all makes up for how badly it hurt to let Aventurine inside you. How hollow it made you feel to let him use you. How none of that matters as long as you can keep him safe like this, because you belong to Kakavasha. You'll always belong to Kakavasha, in a fate that was chosen for you on the day you met him.

You're his, always his—even if he’ll never want you.

end part i

thank you so much to lore for hosting a fantastic collab and to my sponsors who funded this fic and got it over the finish line! please go check out @ficsforgaza to find other amazing hsr writers you can sponsor in order to help fundraise! here is my own wip list, if you are interested in seeing more from me!

and thank you most of all to YOU! I appreciate you so much for reading this chapter. thank you so much for sticking it through.

additional end notes

#aventurine x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #cw.omegaverse #cw.slavery #cw.sa #dead dove

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bellybuttonbooks · 2 months ago

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Hey guys. I’m writing an Ekko x Fem!OC fanfic on Wattpad. I have 31 chapters written so far, with 14 of them posted (the other 16 are in editing stage).

TITLE: The Sixth

SUMMARY: Shimmer is back. Two years after the war with Noxus has ended, a new gangster emerges within the undercity, now known as 'Zaun'.

Daunter is a ruthless chem-baron who has reformed the city's drug empire. He refloods the streets with shimmer and gains the title 'Silco's Heir'.

The Firelights are back in commission after two years of lax, taking down exports just like the days when Silco was still alive.

When the group arrives at an export and finds it already taken down with the barrels drained of shimmer, it becomes apparent that Daunter and his gang aren't the only ones they need to look out for. They had competition. Or... did they?

Ekko finds himself involved in a seemingly endless cat-and-mouse chase with another gang leader-a woman who moves like the wind. He wants to know what her motives are, but he has to catch her first.

LINK: https://www.wattpad.com/story/385476895?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details&wp_uname=bellybuttonbooks

COVER:

🧩🧩🧩🧩🧩🧩🧩🧩🧩🧩🧩🧩🧩🧩🧩🧩🧩

SNIPPET OF CHAPTER ONE (not the full chapter):

- Zaun, two years after the conclusion of Arcane

"Fuck—"

It happened again. Their mission had been sabotaged, just like before. Someone had arrived before he and the Firelights had gotten there, Daunter's goons paralyzed and tied up, the barrels drained of shimmer.

Daunter was Zaun's newest chem baron—and currently it's biggest. He reintroduced shimmer to the Lanes, reflooding the streets with the purple drug.

After Silco had died and the undercity got caught up in a battle with Piltover and Noxus, shimmer had been mostly exterminated by Caitlyn and her enforcers. It still lingered in the black market, but mass exports ceased to exist. Until a few months ago, that is. Daunter crept in like slow-forming shadows caused by a rising moon. In increments so small that no one noticed until everything was drenched in its darkness.

This forced the Firelights back into action. But now, there seemed to be someone else who was intent on interrupting Daunter's operations. Ekko would have accepted the help if it wasn't for the fact that they'd taken the shimmer. He couldn't help but suspect that the culprit had ill intentions, and that put them at odds with the Firelights.

"Looks like we got competition," a distorted voice said from beside him.

Ekko turned his head to look at the masked face of Scar, a tall chirean who served as his Lieutenant and second in command. Chireans held bat-like appearances (minus the wings), with large ears, grey-toned skin, bat-like noses, and neon green eyes.

Both men stood atop a nearby roof, out of hearing distance of the restrained goons on the cargo airship.

"More like another enemy," Ekko responded.

Scar processed his leader's remark before speaking again. "You think they got bad intentions?"

"They're up to no good if they're stealing shimmer. Probably selling it themselves to make bank," he said pointedly.

Scar took in Ekko's words. It made sense and sounded like the most likely scenario. Though, one thing stood out to him.

"Why would they tie em' up? They already have em' paralyzed somehow. It's like they're leaving 'em here for someone to arrest or something."

Ekko considered this but had already thought up a reason. "The paralysis might not last long. Could be a precaution."

Scar nodded, agreeing that his reasoning seemed plausible.

"What should we do? Seems we keep missing 'em. Should we put out scouters across the city?"

Ekko exhaled through his nose, mulling over Scar's suggestion. It did sound like a good idea, but he had to also consider the risks. He didn't want to put his people in danger. This wouldn't be like their typical 'element of surprise' mission. This would involve spying, waiting, and watching—usually from the shadows to avoid detection. Despite this, Ekko had faith in the Firelights.

"Yeah. Could assign shifts. But we still need to keep most of our numbers back at the hideout in case of any surprise missions."

Scar agreed. Daunter was becoming more and more unpredictable, and there were times when they had to act quickly, creating plans with only hours to spare.

The conversation between the men ended there and Ekko mounted his aeroglider. He flew over to the transport ship and hopped off the board, sliding it behind his back to attach to the magnetic piece on his coat. He neared Daz, one of the newer Firelights.

Daz was a little on the shorter side, his body mass nothing impressive. But he was quick, and that made up for his size.

"You find anything useful? Anything they might've left behind?"

Daz stood from his crouching position. "Nothing. But this guy says that it was a bunch of people dressed in black wearing cloaks," he said.

The younger male nudged the oversized goon who was laying on the boarded floors of the airship with his booted foot.

Ekko's eyes narrowed in thought from the goon's revelation. He crouched down, deciding to take questioning the brute into his own hands.

"Did you see any faces? Anything?"

Daunter's ruffian shook his head, his double chin jigging as he did so.

"I was lucky to even see 'em in the first place. Bastards were quick as shit, bouncin' all over the place like a bunch 'a damn shimmer addicts."

Ekko stared down at the overweight man for a few moments before standing.

'Was it possible that whoever had done this was also consuming the drug to give themselves a physical advantage?'

Authoritative voices sounded from the distance, pulling him from his thoughts and signaling him and the other firelights that enforcers were nearby. Ekko yanked his aeroglider from behind his back once again, hopping onto it before instructing the other Firelights to follow him out of there.

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girlbossblackbeard · 1 year ago

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I think I'm actually going clinically insane over the reverse "you wear fine things well" scene because 1) if Ed looked at me Like That it would be game over I would literally do anything he asked me up to and including throwing myself overboard I literally do not know how Stede didn't legitimately spontaneously combust the second Ed turned those eyes on him 2) GNOSSIENNE NO.5 FINALLY BEING USED THIS SEASON AS A JOYOUS MARKER OF ED AND STEDE'S LOVE FOR EACH OTHER AS GOD INTENDED THIS IS NOT A DRILL HOLY SHIT 3) THEIR FUCKIN!!!!!!!! COY TEENAGER SHY LITTLE SHUFFLE TOWARDS EACH OTHER RIGHT BEFORE THEY KISS!!!!!! THE WAY STEDE EVEN LOOKS AWAY FOR A SECOND BEFORE LOOKING BACK AT ED AND ED'S TINIEST LITTLE SMIRK BEFORE THEY BOTH LEAN IN WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 4) the way they grab each other's arm during the initial kiss I'm so sick to my stomach 5) THE MOON Y'ALL!!!!!!!!!!!! IT'S NORMAL!!!!!!!!!!! BECAUSE THIS ISN'T A MOONLIGHT FANTASY OR AN INFATUATION THAT FEELS LARGER THAN LIFE BUT BURNS OUT QUICKLY!!!!!!!!!!! THIS IS REAL AND IT'S RAW AND IT'S VULNERABLE AND IT'S GONNA LAST BECAUSE THIS NEW CHAPTER OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS BEING FOUNDED ON DOING EVERYTHING THEY CAN TO NOT LET THIS PRECIOUS THING THEY'VE FOUND WITH EACH OTHER TURN INTO ANOTHER WHIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IM LITERALLY GOING TO START FEROCIOUSLY CLIMBING THE WALLS 6) hoooooooly fuck the way stede inhales and grasps Ed's neck like he's a man lost at sea dying of dehydration and Ed is the first sip of cool clean water he's had in months im ill im so so so so ill 7) ED'S LITTLE SHUFFLE AFTER ASKING STEDE TO TAKE IT SLOW SIR IM BEGGING YOU TO STOP BEING SO ADORABLE it's causing me to develop a heart condition 8) stede's quiet "huh, okay 😌" after Ed busts out his fish wanting to get caught metaphor he's literally so charmed by Ed it seeps into everything he does 9) WEHN THYE!!!!!!!! HOODL AHNDS!!!!!!!!!!! HAND TOCUH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 10) the way Ed is staring stede DIRECTLY in the eyes as he says "this? perfect" my vision is going black 11) SHUT IP SHUT UP SHUT UPPPPPPP THEIR SILLY LITTLE HAND HOLDING GAME AND STEDE WHUSPERING "you won 🥰" AND ED'S BLUSHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SMILE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AS HE LOOKS AWAY AND PATS STEDE'S HANDS BEFORE TELLING HIM A COOL FACT HE LEARNED TODAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THEY! ARE! LITERALLY! TEENAGERS! FALLING! IN! LOVE! FOR! THE! FIRST! TIME! EVER! oh I am in desperate need of medical attention after this one fellas I can tell this is going to have extremely long lasting and far reaching effects on my already severely compromised psyche

#ofmd #our flag means death #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #ofmd s2 #edward teach #stede bonnet #ofmd s2 spoilers

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therapycat21 · 1 year ago

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All Right Now Part 9

Travis Kelce x Famous!Reader Description: The reader catches the eye of famous footballer Travis.

Warnings: None

Social Media AU

I still can’t believe it, I never thought I’d be engaged to be married, ever considering my track record, But I guess the best things come when you least expect it to. Travis and his family coming into my life was definitely a blessing in disguise. There is no doubt I love my family but it’s a different feeling of love being accepted by your partner’s family.

It’s been a few days since Travis proposed, the news outlets obviously already know and are spinning a bunch of theories every day.

“They only got engaged because she’s pregnant” “She gave him an ultimatum and that’s why he did it.”

Every day it’s something new, I know it is only because we have only been together a year but jeez, people get engaged after only being together for a few months, and a lot of the time those are the couples that are the happiest and stay together the longest. (In my opinion) Travis has been over the moon and telling pretty much anyone he can, even after a game in the press room, he finds any chance to bring it up, It is definitely the cutest thing to see him blushing on TV. I even see it all over TikTok, Instagram, Twitter, you name it and it’s there.

We have been getting calls, and texts all day. Some from friends and family others, news networks, talk shows, and everything. It has been crazy. Travis and I are both doing talk shows, not together but a few days apart.

"You think these go together?" Travis has been inside the closet for an hour trying to find an outfit when he goes on Jimmy Fallon tonight.

I look up from where I lay on the bed scrolling through Tiktok, he’s holding a black suit set. “Ohh, that would look so nice, especially with your gold jewelry,” I tell him he gives me a smile in response hanging the outfit on the side for later “You are one amazing woman, you know that?” he smiles at me once more.

We both head downstairs to film a new episode of New Heights with Jason. We settle in the chairs, pull the headphones on, and wait for Jason.

“Hello hello, family!” Jason somewhat yells. I laugh at the face he makes before Travis and Jason get into their announcements and sponsors.

“Now we have two special guests today, my awesome and beautiful wife Kylie and our awesome sister-in-law Y/n!” Jason announces loudly earning a weirded and shocked look from Kylie “Oh my” she mutters smirking at me through the camera, I try to hold in my laughter behind my hand, “gotta love Jason’s enthusiasm” I tell them laughing. We talk about a few topics before Jason brings up the big one “Okay, I waited long enough to bring it up, can we please talk about the proposal?” he asks.

I look to Travis for agreement, after a brief nod and encouraging smile “Well It was definitely a surprise I’ll tell you that, we had talked about it and I didn’t expect him to propose a few weeks after that talk.” I laugh. I turn and face Travis “You know it was perfectly timed, as someone who didn't really see themselves getting married, I knew the second we met that she was either gonna be my wife or I would never get married to anyone else unless it was her.” He replies looking at me after. I tried to hide the tears forming in my eyes, I dab under my eyes “I love you so much” I tell him giving him a quick soft kiss.

We turn to see Jason and Kylie both smiling wide. Jason was sporting the proud big brother look “When Trav came to me and started talking to me about how he was planning all of this, for one, I was shocked cause, for one I’ve never seen him talk so passionately about someone or something as much as his car collection, so It was so cool to see him do that, and two, I was just excited to be able to watch it happen in front of my eyes.” Jason says before turning his attention to Kylie “what did you think?” he asks her.

She smiles “I for one was kinda just like thank god, he finally asked her and now I have my sister-in-law” she laughs “When Jason told me the plans I was ecstatic, It feels good to see you both happy.” she says in response. We give them both fond smiles “Aww, see and my biggest fear was everyone thinking we were crazy for doing this too soon.” I laugh.

“If I never met you and your family I would have thought the same thing but everyone can clearly see you guys are in love and like Travis said if it feels right then it’s right and you gotta take that chance when It shows itself,” Jason tells us. We talk a bit more and we say goodbye to them.

An hour later

Travis and I are in our closet getting ready to head out for his interview tonight with Jimmy Fallon, Travis wearing the black suit ensemble and me wearing something similar.

We pull into the studio already seeing paparazzi surrounding the entire sides of the entrance to the studio. I huff trying to mentally prepare for the swarm about to happen, Travis leans over grasping my hand in pulling it towards his face giving the tops of my hands a chaste kiss. “We got this, and always remember I got you, baby,” he reassured me. I nod my head. He leans forward and opens the car door, the camera lights flashing like crazy before it doubles when I also come out of the car, the driver shuts the door and Travis guides me protectively towards the door, pushing back over pushy paparazzi.

We finally make it inside the building and we are met by a studio rep, they guide us to where we need to be. We chill in the studio’s dressing room before we are guided over to the studio’s main stage and seating area. I give Travis a kiss before he heads back and I open the door to where the audience is and where my front-row seat is.

I hear gasps flow throughout the room I look up to see the audience staring at me in shock “Hi everyone” I wave to them shyly. I hear quick responses throughout the room and sit down in my seat where a couple of younger girls are. I give them a smile before I focus my attention on Jimmy walking out onto the stage and sitting behind his desk. “Okay, we are live, in three, two, one” I hear the camera director announce. “Hello everyone, today we have a very special guest, please welcome the man, the chief king and big yeti, Travis Kelce!” he announces theatrically before the crowd starts to yell out and Travis works his way to his seat “Hello hello” he waves to the audience, winking at me, I smile in response.

They talk a bit about his games, and about the new documentary Jason has made coming out soon. “Okay, now we all know there is something big that needs to be talked about,” Jimmy smirks, Trav laughs rubbing his bearded chin and nodding “Yeah, I have a feeling I know” he laughs. Jimmy laughs “okay we all know you recently proposed to your now fiance Y/n L/n” the crowd starts clapping and hollering as Travis blushes “Yeah, I got her to say yes, thankfully” Travis jokes. Jimmy laughs “okay, so tell us how it happened, how did you do it?” he asks “Well, I had started planning all of it a few months ago and had the ring for a while, and I decided to set up a small park that we always went to and had her favorite flowers scattered on the ground with those tea light candles and then I did it.” he tells them cheesing big.

The crowd awws and hollers “oh my, well that sounds amazing.” Jimmy compliments, “So of course I have to ask cause everyone was talking about how too soon it was, do you think you did it too soon?” he asks. Travis smiles shaking his head “no, absolutely not, I knew it was the right moment and me and her are big believers in if it feels right take that jump cause we see too many people lose those opportunities and I can’t lose her.” Travis tells them gaining soft coos from the audience.

Jimmy is smiling softly at him “you know, you are so right, and I just want to say congratulations to you and I know you guys are gonna do amazing, I wish I could tell y/n so please if you can pass that for me” Jimmy laughs, Travis nods smiling “actually one second” he hold a finger up before standing up and heading off the stage to the audience and holding his hand out for me to grab.

The crowd starts to yell as Travis guides me towards the seat closest to Jimmy.

We smile at each other and pull each other into a hug “Oh my god, I can’t believe your here? It’s so cool to see you again.” He tells me I smile “It’s so good to see you too, I mean I’m gonna be here next week so” We laugh and sit down. “This is crazy, So congratulations, how are you feeling?” he asks “Thank you! And very very good, I could not be happier” I smile at him.

We sit and talk a bit more before the show ends and we say our goodbyes to Jimmy, the audience, and the production before we head home.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

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chaoticforever · 2 years ago

Text

Love’s Illusion (And Unfaithful Wounds) | Steve Rogers x Male! Reader

Summary: Whispers of doubt had always lingered in the back of Y/n’s mind. Nobody dared to utter them out loud, but everyone knew that nothing lasts forever. Still, Y/n had tried. He really did.

A/n: Remember when I made a short thought and said that I might turn into a fic one day? Well, I just did that. Enjoy :)

"Wow, Tony, this whole setup looks nice."

You were awestruck as you surveyed the candlelit dinner that Tony had set up for you and Steve. The sight before you was amazing, and the glass windows opened up to reveal a breathtaking panorama of the night sky with a perfect round moon. And the view of New York City that you two had from this area was unparalleled.

Today marked your and Steve's second anniversary and you decided to surprise him with his favorite home-cooked meal and an engraved metal band. The words Ti amo, Mio eroe — which translates to I love you, my hero — were written on the inside. This is a gift Steve would adore.

As you admired the beautiful ring, you couldn't help but feel a wave of nerves wash over you. You intended to propose to him with it and hoped he will say yes.

"Of course it's amazing; I designed this." Tony bragged with pride. "It's like I have a natural talent for designing just about anything. If there was an award for a big brother of the year, it would go to me."

"No, no, no; Thor's the one who deserves that award without question. He had to deal with his insane brother with daddy issues who tried to take over the world." The corners of your mouth curled up in a grin as you walked over to the table and set down two plates of food on it. "You'd be the second runner-up for that award."

"Ouch, Y/n." Tony placed his palm over his chest, over his heart. "Hearing you say that stung like a thousand needles. Since you don't believe I'm the best big brother ever, I suppose I'll have the bots come up here and renovate this space."

How quickly your grin disappeared. "No, Tones, please don't do that. Dum-E and U will disassemble this room exactly as they disassembled my room when I was ten." You walked around the table, giving your brother a lighthearted punch to the arm. "You already know you're the best big brother anyone could've asked for."

"Of course I'm the best, but it's nice to be reminded of that." The man laughed. "Anyways, the outfit you ordered arrived earlier, and I put it in your former room. Now that I've finished up here, I'm going to head down to the lab. I hope that you and Capsicle have a terrific evening."

"Thank you, Tony."

Just as your brother walked out of the room, your phone dinged in your pocket, signaling that you had received a text. You checked your messages and found that Natasha had informed you that she, Steve, and Bucky had returned from their assignment and that Steve was all yours.

Your response was a simple okay and then you went to the bathroom that was attached to your former room to shower.

You were looking forward to this dinner because you and Steve appeared to be growing apart as of late. While you were aware of his continued affection for you, you noticed that in the past five months, he has been spending the majority of his time with Bucky than you. You could not say that it didn't hurt because it did, but you can see why Steve longed to spend as much time as possible with his long- lost friend after they were reunited after spending more than seventy years apart.

Therefore, you were quite excited about your anniversary meal because you and Steve will have some time to yourselves. And if things are going well on the date, you two can take things to the next level in the bedroom. The cupids will love it.

After showering and changing into a sharp-looking black tuxedo, you went to your and Steve's private floor to retrieve him. You were looking forward to tonight and you knew that Steve had worked up an appetite after all of his fighting today.

As you opened the door to the bedroom, a radiant smile spread across your face. "Hey Steve, I hope you're hungry sinc—"

There was an immediate disappearance of the expression on your face, and your words died in your throat mid-sentence. The sight before you prevented you from completing the sentence that had been on the tip of your tongue. What the fuck.

You blinked three times in the hopes that your eyes were just deceiving you or that you would finally be free from this awful dream. And yet, this was no mere dream. What you saw was not a dream.

...What ...The... Fuck...

Steve was naked on your bed, but he was not alone. Bucky was there too, and he was naked as well. And you watched as Steve was kissing and fucking Bucky.

At this exact moment, you felt your heart rip painfully out of your chest and broke into a million pieces, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes. There he was, your boyfriend, the man you loved more than life itself, fucking his friend in your bed. Your whole life just collapsed.

There was a sharp intake of breath from the depths of your throat. "Oh, my God." After hearing your disbelieving whisper, the two soldiers turned to stare at you.

"Y/n." When Steve noticed you standing in the doorway, his eyes widened and he immediately got out of Bucky and stood up. Just as Steve put on his boxers, you snapped out of your stunned stupor and bolted out of the room "Y/n, wait! Please let me explain!" He shouted desperately.

You ignored the blonde super soldier who was calling out to you. With tears running down your cheeks, you opted to hasten towards your brother's private elevator, which would take you down to his workshop. How could Steve do this to you? You trusted him with your heart, but he broke it in one of the worst ways.

As the footsteps behind you begin to quicken, you round the corner where the elevator is and the doors swing open for you. Steve grabbed you by the shoulder, flipped you around, and put his hands on your waist to prevent you from entering. "Wait, Y/n." A pleading tone came from him, blue eyes gazing into your e/c ones.

"Wait for what, Steve?! Do you want me to wait for you to finish fucking Bucky in my bed, or wait for you to come up with a shitty explanation for what I just saw?"

"No, no, I just want to tell you the truth."

"Don't bother talking; I'm not interested in what you have to say... just let me go."

"Please—"

"I'm not interested in hearing what you have to say!" You shouted brokenly, and droplets still trickled down your cheeks. There wasn't any indication of anger on your part, and that was reflected in your tone. But there was no sugarcoating the hurt and utter betrayal that came from it. "Just... leave me alone, okay? I don't feel like speaking to you, nor do I want to see you. I cannot believe you would cheat on me..." Your voice cracked as you glanced at the man you had called your boyfriend. "Get off me..." Your voice was a whisper.

Steve, being the stubborn man he is, shook his head, arms tightening around your waist when you tried to draw away.

"The young boss has requested that you release him, Captain." FRIDAY'S icy voice pierced your ears, unimaginably chilling. "Let go of him, or I'll have to do it myself."

Now that the blonde heard the artificial intelligence's timbre — which sounded dangerously close to being scary, Steve gently releases you, and you back away to create some space between you two.

You reached into your pocket and threw a little, sleek box at him. "I was planning on giving that to you tonight during our anniversary dinner, but it's useless now. What you do with it is up to you. You can keep it or give it to Bucky if you want to." You stepped backward into the elevator. "Happy Anniversary, Rogers. We're over."

In the instant that followed, the elevator door shut before the super soldier could respond — a deliberate move by FRIDAY.

You let out a sigh as you shut your eyes, sniffling. God, you felt like such an idiot, thinking that Steve loved you when he was fucking Bucky behind your back.

The worst part is that you saw the signs but ignored them because you love him. Clearly, he doesn't feel the same though.

The moment you walked off the elevator, Tony was waiting there. You figured that FRIDAY had already informed him of the recent situation or shown him the video. The billionaire appeared ready to kill and he possessed a menacing appearance.

"I will kill Capsicle for what he did to you later." A moment later, his eyes softened. "Come here, Y/n." His arms opened wide.

You raced into Tony's arms, sobbing into his shoulder because there was nothing else you could do after tonight's events.

Steve broke you.

He broke your heart into pieces, and you didn't think it would ever be whole again.

XXXXX XXXXX

Weeks following the incident were grim.

To begin, you and Steve no longer share a bedroom, therefore you have returned to the one you had previously occupied. You both were not together anymore, so you knew that it was the correct choice, but you missed sharing a bed with him. You longed for his warm embrace and the comfort he always brought. Without Steve, the bed feels considerably colder.

And throughout those weeks, you made an effort to avoid both Steve and Bucky like the plague. Since you were the team hacker and proficient in multiple martial arts styles, the only times you could not escape them was during team missions, training exercises, and meetings. Other than this, you didn't spend any additional time with them because it hurt too much to be around them after what they did.

Your feelings of betrayal weren't limited to Steve; Bucky was just as guilty in your eyes. You made an effort to make Bucky feel at ease here, even if he was the tool used to murder your parents. Seeing him around the Compound, in the beginning, was hard since it brought up memories of the footage that showed him choking your mother to death and cracking your father's head. Even though you knew he was indoctrinated and couldn't be held responsible, it still hurt to see him here.

You accepted Bucky's apology for his acts as the Winter Soldier, notably the murder of your parents, and managed to forgive him since you recognized he was a victim. Eventually, you and he became friends, putting the past behind you two.

So, you felt betrayed by them both.

The other Avengers knew that there was something not quite right between you and Steve, but they didn't know what it was. Steve never gave them an honest answer, no matter how many times they asked. Therefore, Tony spilled the beans on everything that went down between you and Steve, and they did not take the news well. They were far from pleased.

The team was quite dissatisfied with Steve and Bucky, but Steve particularly so because he crushed your heart. Clint punched Steve after finding out because he couldn't understand why Steve would hurt you the way he did and wanted him to experience the same pain you felt.

Tony and Natasha insisted that Steve needed to pay for his actions, with Tony recommending that he should move out. You merely shook your head and stated that it wasn't necessary, knowing that he didn't have anywhere else to go and the team had to be together under one roof.

Really, you had no desire for vengeance against Steve. You wanted nothing more than to merely move on and find peace. But it appears that the universe is not on your side, since you were unable to find peace in your dreams. Just nightmares.

Like that night.

Within the dream, you found yourself standing on an all-too-familiar road. The road where your parents were murdered.

"Help... my wife... help my wife."

Oh, God. No, please. You hesitantly turned around and saw your parents, and you knew that your plea had been ignored; you were about to witness them die again. You tried to run, so you would not have to witness this, but it's like your feet are glued to the earth, stopping you.

Howard desperately called out to the stranger who pulled up on a motorcycle once he managed to get out of the car. Slowly, he attempted to crawl over to the individual in his peripheral vision before his head was lifted and he found himself gazing at him. "Sergeant Barnes?"

His voice trembled with recognition as Barnes' metal fist slammed into his face multiple times, leaving bloody marks on the older man's face. A subsequent blow to the head resulted in a fatal skull crack.

"Howard!" Mom; your loving, nice mom. She was a kind and generous soul who only wanted the best for you and Tony. You watched as Barnes strangled her to death, thus committing a double murder.

You closed your eyes, as your lips began to tremble, desperately fighting the tears that were coming from witnessing your parents' deaths again. Trying hard to block out the pain your parents went through. Regardless of your relationship with your father, he did not deserve that.

Now, the Winter Soldier looked at you.

"Is it ironic that the man who took your parents from you is the same one who took the love of your life from you? You should know now that Captain America will never love you the way you love him. Bucky will always be Steve's first choice, and you'll always be his second choice."

You felt your fists tighten as you realized the soldier was correct. Whenever given the choice between you and Bucky, the blonde would always choose Bucky. He could not love you the way he loved him.

You snapped awake and screamed —screamed so loud it sounded like a siren in the middle of the night, smashing into your ears. Your throat became very raw and felt like it was about to burst out of your body. Tears welled up in your eyes as you took a look around the room and remembered that you were by yourself. The comforting presence of the blonde soldier was no longer available to you.

You brought your knees up to your chest and couldn't help but wonder why Steve chose Bucky over you. Why were you not enough for him? Did he not love you too?

Maybe that's why, after weeks of Steve pleading with you to speak to him alone, you finally agreed to meet him at a local coffee shop. You needed answers, and Steve was the one who could give them.

"Why," The mutual silence was broken by your tone. "Did you cheat on me, Steve?"

The blonde looked shamefacedly at the table before meeting your e/c eyes. "I'm sorry I just…" He let out a long sigh. "We have been in love since the forties, and now that I have him back and we can be together without fear of social stigma, a part of me still wanted to be with Bucky. I found it impossible to choose between you and him since I was in love with you as well, so I ended up doing the selfish thing and decided to choose him, too."

You shook your head at his justification. "H-How long has this been going on...?"

"Ever since you went to Paris with Tony."

You blinked at the soldier because—

...What...?

Exactly eight months ago, you and Tony traveled to Paris to finalize a business agreement for Stark Industries. It's been eight months of Steve cheating on you.

In those eight months, every time you kissed, every time he held your hand, every time he held you in his arms, and every time you had sex, he was secretly seeing Bucky behind your back. You felt your heartbreak intensify from hearing that.

"You have been cheating on me for eight months." You shook your head, e/c eyes fixed on the blonde. "Why didn't you just tell me that you wanted to be with Bucky instead of cheating on me? I would have been hurt, but I would have understood."

"Because I'm an idiot and I didn't want to lose you," Steve confessed, pausing for a second as though to carefully consider his next words. "But this can be fixed. A couple of months ago, Bucky confessed to me that he had developed feelings for you, as well. There is something known as a polyamorous relationship in which we can all be together. Originally, I was planning to discuss this with you, but—"

"But rather than discussing it with me, you opted to cheat." Another head shake from you. "I have no desire to engage in a polyamorous relationship. I am strictly a one-person type of man." There was a sniffle from you. "And this can't be fixed, Steve. Before I mentioned that we were done and I will now say it again: we are done. I will not get back with a cheater."

You stood up and started to leave, but Steve intercepted your exit by grabbing your hand. You looked at him and felt a twinge of sadness as you realized that the blue of his eyes was the reflection of the tears that he had been holding back.

"Please, Y/n." The blonde's only option was to beg. "I know I've made mistakes, but we can fix this. I should have shared my thoughts with you sooner, but I loved you both and couldn't choose one of you."

"You already did," You murmured in a faraway whisper. "You chose Bucky over me as soon as you started sleeping with him, Steve. I hope that you're happy with him, but we're done now. Goodbye."

Pulling away from his grasp, you left the coffee shop as you wiped away the tear stains from your cheeks. You didn't even bother glancing in Steve's direction upon leaving, but the sound of his sobs in the private booth left you feeling a little sad. You still loved him deeply, but you knew you couldn't get back together with him.

You deserved better.

XXXXX XXXXX

You were running.

The soles of your sneakers made a loud thudding sound on the park's pavement as you ran through it. Since you haven't been going for morning runs in a while, you've decided to go to the park to clear your head and do some aerobic exercise.

Eventually, you stopped running and sat down on the closest bench to catch your breath. You shut your eyes and exhaled in short breaths, a thin coating of sweat covering your forehead and the back of your neck. You haven't gone for a run in quite some time, and now you're wishing you hadn't stopped since it's your body is not acclimated to running this much.

"Are you alright there, bub?"

When you glanced to your left, you noticed that the bench you were sitting on was already taken. There was a man sitting there with brown hair that danced in the breeze to nature's symphony and hazel eyes that were the softest brown tinged with green that spoke to the soul of nature. And he was smoking a cigar.

He's handsome, You thought privately.

"Yes, I'm fine." You answered, your heart still thumping loudly in your ears despite your breathing becoming normalized. "I just haven't gone running in some time."

"Fair enough." The mystery man nodded, then reached for the water bottle next to him, and held it out to you. "You want it? You look like you need it more than I do."

You normally wouldn't accept something from a stranger, but the weather was hot and your mouth was dry, so you took the water bottle the mysterious man offered.

"Thanks a lot, stranger." You unscrewed the water bottle's top and drank from it. The water's coolness was refreshing as it slid down your throat and you smiled.

The man's lips twitched a bit. "I'm Logan."

"It is nice to meet you, Logan. I'm Y/n." You introduced yourself. "So, is this, by chance, your first time here at the park?"

Logan shook his head. "No, I come here whenever I need to clear my head, either through running or other means. Though I can tell that this is your first time here since I have never seen you here before."

The other man wasn't wrong in his little assessment. You have never visited this before today. You and Steve used to go running in Central Park, but now you are doing it by yourself in Westchester, New York. Running here by yourself wouldn't bring up old memories of you and Steve.

And you're kinda glad you came running here today otherwise you wouldn't have met Logan — who gifted you with water.

"You're correct in that regard." You drank some more water before ascending and meeting his gaze. "Well, It's time for me to resume my run. Thanks, by the way, for the water. Maybe I'll run into you again and we can go running sometime."

"Or," Logan stood and put his cigar out. "We can go running right now. There's a river just down the path." He pointed his finger to emphasize its location. "There, we can have a race to see who is faster."

"No, no, no, no. You have been sitting on that bench for who knows how long, and running has simply drained me of all my energy. That is not fair and you know it."

"Life isn't fair, bub. Do you want to do it?"

You bit your lip, debating on what to do.

On one hand, you would almost surely lose this race because Logan is clearly more muscular and energetic than you.

Yet, you were not the type to back down from a challenge, and you were eager to carry on your conversation with Logan. From this quick meeting, you could tell there was something so intriguing about him, and you were curious to learn more.

Moreover, you did not want to return to the Compound anytime soon. If you did, you would likely catch Bucky and Steve together, which you did not wish to see.

Subconsciously, you knew what to do.

"Okay, fine, but — what the hell is that?!" You pointed behind Logan, causing him to turn around, and you raced down the path, your sneakers hammering fiercely against the earth. The truth is, there was nobody behind him, but you figured that claiming that would give you a headstart.

In the end, that headstart didn't help you at all because Logan ended up winning, which wasn't a surprise to anyone at all.

However, a positive development in your friendship with Logan started that day. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, you two would get up early and go for a run together. It was the one time of day that you both always looked forward to. You enjoy talking to the man despite his grumpy demeanor because of his witty, dry sense of humor, and you cannot help but stare at his ripped arms. Because of his tank top, it was impossible to resist.

Though, it wasn't just running that you looked forward to. After one of your runs with Logan, the male expressed interest in spending time with you outside of the park and asked if you would want to get some lunch with him. You accepted the brunet's suggestion and then you had to convince yourself that this wasn't a date but just the two guys hanging together.

The following Friday was the lunch hangout between you and Logan. The restaurant was pleasant without being overbearing or pretentious, but the meal is laden with bacon and oil, and it should be shut down as a threat to public health.

The conversation was lighthearted and smooth before it took a serious turn. As he snacked on fries, the brunet asked if you were in a relationship with someone.

"I was involved in a romantic relationship with a man." You stated carefully, gaze keenly observing the brown-haired male. You weren't sure if Logan was okay with people who like the same gender, but his expression didn't exhibit any symptoms of repulsion, so you continued speaking. "After two great years together, Captain America broke my heart by cheating on me. I just wasn't good enough for him."

You scratched the back of your neck.

A hand was placed on top of yours, and you opened your e/c eyes to see Logan shaking his head and staring into yours. His hazel eyes were gleaming gently, yet there was a hint of rage present in them.

"Never, ever believe that you aren't good enough for someone; that isn't true. You are remarkable in every way imaginable. You are sweet, thoughtful, hilarious, and handsome. You're the kind of boyfriend any lady or man would be lucky to have. The Captain is not good enough for you."

When you heard Logan say those words, a smile tugged at your lips. You've never been the recipient of numerous praises from a single person in a while, and you could tell that Logan meant every one of them. He never failed to make you smile.

"Thank you, Logan. You don't know how much it means to me to hear you say that."

"No problem." The man shot you a smile, brushing his thumb along your knuckles.

You mirrored Logan's smile, and then your gaze dipped to his rosy lips. The ripped man was your secret crush, and you wanted nothing more than to press your lips to his and have a taste of his tongue. Instead, however, you removed your hand and returned to eating lunch.

The two continued to have a wonderful time for the remainder of lunch, with the conversations being light and informal. Logan seemed to share your sentiments because he inquired whether there was any chance of doing this again, and you replied yes to repeating this experience.

You found happiness in the company of the other man. So much happiness that the sight of Steve and Bucky together doesn't cause you any further emotional distress. You felt like Logan was putting your shattered heart back together after Steve had broken it into a million pieces.

The Avengers have surely taken note of your improved mood and are wondering what's changed. They didn't know who it was, but the team knew it was someone because you were occasionally spotted messaging on your phone while smiling.

"Who's Logan?"

A little startled, you turned and saw Tony peering at your phone from behind. A small smile played on his lips, but his question carried a serious undercurrent.

"A friend." The phone was placed in your pocket. "So, tell me, what's so important that you wish to speak with me today?"

"Don't try to divert the conversation, Y/n. You need to fill me in on this Logan guy. First and foremost, is he a boyfriend that I am unaware of?" After his words, there was a pause. "You know what? Don't tell me anything. You can simply provide me with Logan's last name, and I'll conduct a complete background check on him."

"Stop harassing your brother, Tony," Pepper stated once she came into the common area, her heels clicking across the floor as she embraced you. "Hi, Y/n."

"Hey, Pepper." You returned the blonde's embrace before breaking apart. "Finally, someone recognizes the importance of respecting people's right to privacy and refraining from prying for information." Your words were clearly aimed at Tony.

Although you and Pepper laughed, Tony could merely roll his eyes. As far as he's concerned, he did nothing wrong. In light of Steve's infidelity, the genius was more protective of you. Tony was worried that you would be hurt again, and he wanted to make sure that this Logan fella was a suitable fit for you. He will not allow his brother to be hurt by another man again.

"Considering Cap had broken your heart, I believe I have every right to probe into your dating life and find out everything I can about your other potential partners."

You flashed a smile toward your sibling. "That's sweet, but he's not someone you should worry about. After all, he's just a friend, anyway. So, tell me, what exactly did you two need to discuss with me?"

One hand was placed around Pepper's waist by Tony and they both exchanged passionate glances before gazing at you. You shifted your gaze between the two, waiting for an answer to your question.

"Well, Tony finally popped the question."

Your gaze immediately drifts to Pepper's hand, where, sure enough, a magnificent ring can be spotted. Tony had proposed. Tony's engaged and he's getting married.

Your throat exploded in a joyful scream. "Oh, my God! Congratulations, you two!"

As you hugged Tony and Pepper, you felt an overwhelming sense of joy for them. After everything they have been through together, they deserved one another. As you celebrated Tony's engagement, a twinge of envy just crept into your heart.

You had desired to get married to Steve.

You shook your head to get rid of that thought, as this wasn't about you and it wasn't the time to dwell on the fact that you once wanted to marry Steve. Today was the time to celebrate your brother's upcoming marriage to the love of his life.

"Y/n, you are okay with this, right?" Tony asked warily, voice trembling with worry.

"Of course I am! My big brother's getting married!"

There was another scream from your throat before you told Tony and Pepper that you would be happy to help them in any way possible with wedding planning.

The blonde and the billionaire requested that you select their wedding cake since you're familiar with their tastes and they had Stark Industries business to attend to. You said yes right away because you knew where to find the most delicious wedding cake in all of New York City.

"I appreciate it, Y/n. The wedding cake, at least, won't disappoint." Pepper said. "Perhaps you could invite this Logan guy to go cake-tasting with you." She smiled.

"Absolutely not!" Your sibling interjected. "And don't promote such behavior, Pep. I won't feel comfortable having him meet up with Logan until I've either met him in person or had his full name to perform a background check." He turned around to address you directly. "Don't make me ground you because I will if I have to."

Indulging in a hearty chuckle at Tony's treatment of you, you quickly pulled out your phone and started texting Logan, oblivious to the fact that a certain super soldier overheard the whole exchange.

You listened to Pepper's advice and asked Logan to go cake tasting with you tomorrow. After receiving his agreement to go with, you sent him a text message with the address to the bakery building.

The following day, you and Logan met at the bakery's entrance. Your friend was, as usual, smoking a cigar while standing in his customary attire of a black flannel shirt and blue jeans. As an added bonus, he was rocking a black jacket. You have not seen him in this black jacket before, but it's a great addition to his wardrobe.

He looked as handsome as ever before.

As the bell on the door chimed, you and Logan entered the bakery nestled on the corner of the bustling street. The air is alive with the fragrances of the bakery's creation, each one more tantalizing than the last. Sounds of laughter and chatter filled the air as customers chat with the bakers and each other, creating a happy, bustling atmosphere within the location.

From behind the counter, an employee, a pleasant and kind woman, smiled at you both. "What can I get for you two?"

"Hello there. Is your boss around?"

The woman's head shook with a gentle sway. "I'm afraid Ms. Stone had to leave unexpectedly for a family emergency," She explained, her voice soft and caring. Despite the news, a warm smile graced her lips as she went around the counter.

"I've been expecting you tho, Mr. Stark," She continued with a reassuring tone. "Please, allow me to guide you to a table where you'll find the wedding cakes you are searching for." With a hand gesture, the brunette motioned for you to follow her, her footsteps light and purposeful.

She led you and Logan over to a small table in the corner of the bakery where she had set out a variety of cakes to try.

With each cake that was sampled, you and the other guy discussed each of the cake's flavor, texture, and presentation, carefully considering which one would be the best cake for Tony's special day.

However, during the sampling, Logan's behavior took an unexpected turn. After the third cake, he leaned in and began to feed you, a playful glint in his eyes. You were taken aback by the gesture, unsure of how to respond. Yet as he wiped the crumbs from your face with his thumb, you felt a huge rush of great excitement.

You knew this wasn't something that friends typically did with each other, so you were confused by Logan's actions.

In spite of your bewilderment, you didn't try to stop him. You secretly enjoyed it, relishing in the playful dynamic between the both of you. But you knew that you needed to address the situation later, to get to the bottom of what was going on.

But for now, you decided to simply enjoy the moment, savoring the flavors of the delicious cakes and the thrill of Logan's playful gestures. Yet in the back of your mind, you realized that you would need to have a serious conversation with him soon. The mystery of Logan's behavior was something that you couldn't ignore.

Upon tasting several cakes, you settled on a rich chocolate cake with layers of raspberry filling and buttercream frostin. Tony and Pepper are going to love this.

"This is the one." You stated confidently.

The employee smiled as she carefully packaged up a slice of cake for you and Logan to take with. With practiced ease, the female wrote down the details of the wedding cake you had decided on, her pen moving gracefully across the paper.

"I will be sure to let Ms. Stone know your selection," She said. "And may I just say, you two make such an adorable couple! Congrats on your upcoming wedding!"

Your face became very hot. "Oh, we're—"

"—very happy to hear that." The tall male interjected smoothly, taking hold of your hand and planting a tender kiss on your temple before directing his gaze toward the female. "Have a wonderful day, bub."

With that, you and Logan walked out of the bakery, hand in hand. Rather than parting ways, you headed to the park to watch the sunset. Upon sitting down on a cozy bench, the sky was flushed with vibrant hues of pink, orange, and purple. The sun slowly descended towards the horizon, casting a warm glow over the world around you. This view was great.

You knew it was time to confront Logan concerning the situation at the bakery.

"Logan?"

"Yeah?" His gaze was focused on you.

"Why did you make that employee think that we were engaged? And why do you keep being so touchy-feely with me and feeding me? Friends don't do that, man."

Logan didn't verbally respond. Instead, he reached out and grabbed the side of your face, pulling you close and sealing your lips in a kiss. Your body responded to his touch, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of this kiss. However, as quickly as it had started, he pulled away, his eyes searching yours for a reaction.

"I — I don't understand." You stammered, heart racing with a mix of emotions.

Did Logan like you, too?

Logan's hand reached out to caress your cheek. "I like you a lot, Y/n, and I want to be with you, but I want to make sure that you're not still hung up on Steve."

"I'm not still hung up on, Steve."

It was the truth, you reminded yourself. You had moved on from the sheer pain and betrayal that Steve had caused you. Even though he had been a huge part of your life for years, you had finally found the strength to let go and move forward.

And it's because of Logan. Ever since he had come into your life, everything had changed. The way he looked at you, the way he held your hand, the way he made you feel — it was all so vastly different from what you experienced with Steve.

"You're not?" The hazel-eyed man's eyes were filled with both curiosity and hope.

"No." The word hung in the air like a weight, heavy and final. "I'm not. I like you, too, and I want to be with someone who truly likes and respects me like you."

Relief washed over Logan's face, and he smiled. "I'm glad," He said, and then his expression turned serious. "But if we're going to be together, there's something you need to know about me that might make you regret wanting to be with me."

You raised an eyebrow in curiosity. What could Logan possibly tell you that would make you regret wanting to date him?

"Tell me."

Logan seemed nervous, which was unusual for him. You watched him take a deep breath, and then he said, "I think it would be better... if I just showed you." His eyes flickered toward his right hand.

You had no idea what he meant until you saw the sharp glint, the metallic slash of the claws that protruded from his hands, like knives made of iron. Oh...Wow... You were stunned, realizing at that moment that Logan was a mutant. He must have been worried that you would not accept him because of his extraordinary powers

Logan's gaze locked onto yours, searching for any sign of fear or rejection. He did not know if you were someone who accepted mutants or not and he was laying his heart on the line.

But you weren't like most people in this world who harbored hate and mistrust toward mutants. You believed that everyone deserved respect and acceptance, no matter what.

"So, you're a mutant?" You asked softly, meeting Logan's gaze with a newfound sense of understanding, hand ghosting over the sharp edges of Logan's claws.

Logan nodded, his expression guarded. "Yeah, Y/n. This is a part of who I am."

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "Well, that's not something that will make me not want to be with you. I like you for who you are, Logan — all of you."

You took Logan's hand in yours, feeling a sense of connection and closeness that you had never felt before. It was as if his powers had brought you two even closer together, rather than driving you apart.

Logan's smile returned. "Thank you, Y/n."

You leaned in, closing the gap between you, and kissed him gently. The feel of his lips against yours was electric, and you knew at that moment that you had made the right choice. Logan Howlett was the one for you — mutant or not.

XXXXX XXXXX

"Knock, knock."

As you pushed open the hotel door, you were greeted with the sight of Tony, his fingers fumbling with his tie as he tried to make it look presentable. He seemed nervous. His usual confident energy was replaced with a nervous one that no one has seen before. It was understandable.

Today was the day that your brother was getting married to the love of his life and the gravity of the situation seemed to be hitting Tony all at once. You didn't blame him for feeling a little overwhelmed now.

The clock was ticking, and the wedding ceremony was just an hour away. You, Tony, and the other male Avengers had gathered at the hotel nearby to help the groom get ready. Downstairs, the rest of the male Avengers was eating breakfast before slipping into their sharp suits for the occasion. But you had a feeling that Tony needed some extra support, so you came up here to check on the groom.

A lopsided grin broke out on Tony's face as he got his tie knot finished. "Hey, bro. Just in time to see me looking my best."

You chuckled, knowing that Tony always looked his best, but looked extra dapper in his tuxedo today. "You look amazing, Tony," You complimented him, grabbing his jacket from the bed. "Pepper's going to be blown away when she sees you. I can't believe you two are tying the knot."

"Yeah, Pepper and I are finally doing it." Tony's smile widened, but then it faded again as he looked back at his reflection. "I just wish Mom could be here to see it."

Your heart ached at the mention of your mother. She had always been supportive of Tony than your father, even during his darkest moments. You knew how much she would have loved to see her son get married. But you knew that she instilled in him the strength and resilience to get through anything, including his wedding day without her being physically there.

You put a hand on his shoulder. "I know, man. I miss her too. But she would have been so proud of you today. I know it."

"I hope so. It just feels weird, you know? Getting married without her here for it."

You squeezed his shoulder. "I know it does. But she's with you in spirit and in your heart. And she wouldn't want you to be sad on your wedding day. I know that she is looking down on you with a smile. She’s just as proud of you as I am."

The billionaire looked at you, and for a moment, you two started at each other. Then, he moved and hugged you tightly.

"Thank you Y/n," Tony whispered into his brother's ear. "Thank you for being here."

You embraced him back with equal warmth, feeling your eyes moisten with tears. You knew that this was more than simply a hug, but also the overwhelming realization of the bond you both shared.

His words echoed in your mind, and you knew that he wasn't just referring to this moment. Your brother was pertaining to the unbreakable connection you shared, built on a foundation of unwavering support and love, through all the ups and downs life had thrown your way.

He wasn't just your brother by blood, but also by heart, and you're grateful for him.

"Of course; that's what brothers are for." You remarked. "So, how are you feeling?"

"Nervous, to be honest," Tony admitted.

You raised an eyebrow. "You, nervous? I honestly never thought I'd see that day."

Tony chuckled. "Yeah, well, this is a big day and everything has to go perfectly.”

"Everything's going to be fine and you've got this. You and Pepper are perfect for each other, and today is the beginning of a wonderful journey together."

"You're right," Tony agreed. "Today is the beginning of something amazing, and I can't wait to see what the future holds."

"That's the spirit, bro!"

You gracefully slipped Tony's suit jacket onto his broad shoulders, smoothing out any creases with your hands. Just as you finished, your phone dinged, pulling your attention away from Tony. You checked it and saw two messages waiting there.

One was from Rhodey, announcing that he was ten minutes away. The other was from Logan. Your heart leapt as you read Logan's message, telling you that he had arrived outside of your hotel. You were both surprised and ecstatic that he had managed to make it, despite previously declining your invitation due to his busy schedule and the wedding's location in California. He came all this way for me.

You couldn't help the smile that formed on your face after receiving Logan's text.

You quickly informed Tony of their arrival and that you were going to greet them downstairs. Tony, ever the curious one, suggested that you bring Logan up so he could interrogate him and get to know him better. You rolled your eyes at your siblings' protectiveness but agreed to go down and get them from outside.

As you stepped out of the hotel room, the carpet beneath your feet muffled the sound of your footsteps. You made your way down the hall until you collided with someone. Felt more like a wall tho. You stumbled back, catching yourself just in time to look up and see Bucky, standing in front of you in a perfectly tailored suit.

The two of you stood in silence for a moment, not quite sure what to say. This is the first time you two have been alone since the whole incident with Steve. You had seen him around the compound and during team stuff, but this was different.

This was the first time you were alone with him, without anyone else present, and you were not sure how to feel now.

Though, you did know one thing – You didn't hate him and from what Steve told you, he didn't hate you either. "A couple of months ago, Bucky confessed to me that he had developed feelings for you."

"Nice suit." You said, unsure of what to say, but wanting to break the silence. "I didn't know you had such good taste in..."

"I'm sorry," Bucky interrupted, his voice barely above a whisper.

This apology was unexpected, but you could hear the remorse and guilt in his voice, and it tugged at your heartstrings. He then continued speaking, his words pouring out of him like a confession and you listened carefully to what he voiced.

"I'm so sorry for what I did to you, for seeing Steve behind your back. I was selfish and didn't consider your feelings, and for that, I am truly sorry. I know that nothing I say can make it right and that you hate me, but I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for everything I did to you, and I don't expect your forgiveness."

You nodded, acknowledging his apology and the sincerity that was present in his voice. "I appreciate your apology, man. It takes courage to admit one's faults, but you should know that I do not hate you."

Bucky's eyes widened in surprise, gazing at you in disbelief. "You should hate me," He insisted, his voice low and his gaze unwavering. "I took everything from you."

"But I don't," You replied honestly. "What happened between us three hurt me so much." You watched as the man bowed his head in shame. "I was so hurt, but I decided to move on to find peace, and I decided not to harbor hate toward you."

You placed a hand on Bucky's shoulder, shocking yourself with the movement. "I truly hope you're happy with him. By the way, I forgive you for what you've done."

You walked passed Bucky down the hall when he called out, voice very uncertain. "..Do you think we can be friends again?"

Bucky knew that the chance of being with you romantically was slim to none.

After everything that had happened, after the things he and Steve had done, he knew it would be impossible to have a relationship with you. That didn't stop him, though, from feeling deeply for you, from cherishing the time you two spent together. He wanted that friendship back.

You paused for a moment, uncertain of the answer. But you turned back to him and offered a smile. "I'll see you around."

With a final smile, you descended the staircase to meet Logan and Rhodey, leaving Bucky standing in the hallway.

Once you stepped outside the hotel, the warm California sun greeted you with its embrace. You scanned the area, looking for Logan. Then you saw him, standing like a beacon of style in a finely-tailored suit that hugged his frame in all the right places. It seemed as though he had just stepped right out of a fashion magazine.

You approached him, and a smile broke out on his handsome features when he caught sight of you. You couldn't resist wrapping your arms around him, feeling his strong and steady arms around your waist in response. He actually made it.

Upon pulling away, you asked what he was doing here in Cali, surprised by his unexpected appearance. He explained that his team had to come to California to pick up a mutant, and he decided to go to Tony's wedding with you instead. You felt a warm feeling spread through you, grateful for his presence here today.

You thanked him and smiled as Rhodey joined in, greeting both of you. Together, the three of you headed upstairs to your brother's room. However, as you entered, it was like a scene from a movie. Tony was prepared with an interrogation for Logan, determined to make sure he was good enough for you. You couldn't help but smile at Tony's overprotectiveness, knowing it came from a place of love.

Logan was prepared for the questioning. He answered every question confidently and called Tony a wonderful brother for being so protective over you, softening Tony's eyes a little. You couldn't help but smile at how well he handled the grilling.

Finally, Rhodey spoke, reminding us that he had a wedding to prepare for and not to interrogate your boyfriend right now.

Tony stopped, but not before promising that he would continue the conversation at a later time. For now, you, Rhodey, and Logan helped calm Tony's nerves down. Soon, Tony was looking more confident than he was when you entered the room for the first time. He's ready.

And as both Tony and Pepper exchanged vows and shared a passionate kiss, you watched with pride as your sibling found a source of love and support in his life.

The grand reception that followed was a magnificent spectacle, a true, deliberate celebration of love and joy. The banquet was a lavish display of food. The dance floor seemed to extend to infinity and was adorned with shimmering lights as if the stars themselves had descended to witness the special occasion tonight.

Tony and Pepper twirled and spun, lost in their own world as they celebrated their union with family and friends.

You stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, washing your hands when the door creaked open. Your head turned to the side to see Steve standing there, his piercing blue eyes focused on your form.

"Y/n, can we talk?" Steve asked softly.

You turned your whole body to face him. "I didn't know we had things to discuss."

"Y/n, I know that I messed up." He said, his voice cracking. "I should never have cheated on you with Bucky. I'm so sorry."

You stared at him for a long moment before responding. "Steve, I loved you. I gave you everything, and you threw it all away to be with Bucky. You broke me."

The man hung his head, unable to meet your gaze. "Y/n, please..." The tall blonde pleaded. "I know I can't take back what I did — but I want to try and make things right. I still love you and I want to be with you again — to make up for my mistake."

But you just shook his head, a tiny smile playing on your lips. "Steve, I appreciate your apology, but I cannot get back with you. Besides, I have moved on and I am currently in a relationship with a man."

The soldier felt a spike of jealousy. "Oh, who? The guy you took as your date?"

"Yes, his name's Logan and he treats me the way I deserve to be treated, with love and respect. That man makes me happy and I do not want to ruin what we have."

Steve's heart sank at your words. He had hoped that there was still a chance for them, but he knew now that it was over.

He had lost you for good.

"I understand." The blonde spoke, voice barely audible. "I just want you to know that I'm sorry, and I will always love you."

You nodded. "And I will always have love for you, but It's time for us both to move on. I hope that you and Bucky are happy together." You threw Steve a small smile before exiting the bathroom by yourself.

When you made it back to the ballroom, you saw Logan sitting down at the table, nursing a drink in his hand with his eyes focused on the dance floor. You settled down next to him in the chair. "Hey, hey."

Logan's eyes flickered over, meeting yours, and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He leaned over and planted a kiss on your lips, "Hi there." He muttered. "I'm glad you finally came back, Y/n. You were in that bathroom for quite some time. I was starting to get a bit worried."

You chuckled, feeling the warmth of his lips on yours. "Don't worry, I'm fine. I just really had to use the restroom." e/c eyes scanned the dance floor, taking in the sight of couples dancing to the music.

"Let's go dance."

Logan's eyes widened in surprise at your suggestion. "I can't dance." He protested.

You waved away his worries with a tiny laugh. "That doesn't matter. Half of the people in here can't dance. C'mon, let's go have some fun." You took his hand in yours, feeling the rough callouses of his palm against yours as he hesitated for a moment before giving in. He placed his drink down and followed you out to the dance floor. The music swelled around you, and you lost yourself in the rhythm, moving in sync with Logan. Pretty good.

As the music swirled around you, you felt a rush of joy and freedom coursing through your veins. This was what it felt like to be truly alive. And as you danced here with Logan, you knew that you had made the right decision in letting go of Steve and choosing Logan to be yours.

You trusted him implicitly, and you knew that he wouldn't hurt you like Steve had.

Logan was rugged and tough, with a heart of gold that shone through in the way he looked at you. He made you feel safe and cherished — and you knew that you could trust him with your heart. And who knows, maybe in the future, you and Logan could end up marrying each other.

As you swayed to the music, lost in the moment, you knew one thing for certain:

Logan Howlett was your everything.

He was your one and only.

Steve stood alone in the dim bathroom, the weight of his heartache heavy upon his chest. His tears fell freely, streaming down his cheeks in a never-ending flow. The ring you had intended to propose to him with rested on his trembling finger, a cruel reminder of what could've been.

He traced the edges of the ring with his fingertips, feeling every inch of it, every groove and crevice, as the memories of your love flooded his mind. The soldier had followed you into the bathroom, determined to win you back. He knew he had made a grave mistake in not telling you about his feelings for Bucky sooner. But he was scared of losing you, scared of being alone. And now he had lost you anyway, and the thought tore him apart.

But now, it was too late. You had moved on — found someone who treated you with the love and respect you deserved. Steve knew he could never compete with that. He wanted nothing more than for you to be happy, even if it meant he would never hold you in his arms again.

The blonde felt a wave of sadness wash over him, as he realized that he had lost you forever. Steve knew that he had only himself to blame for what happened, but it didn't make the pain any less intense.

The pain was like a knife twisting in his chest, a physical ache that wouldn't go.

It's my fault. I fucked up everything. You were an angel that flew away too soon.

He had Bucky, but he didn't have you.

He knew that he would have to live with the consequences of his actions, but he also knew that he would never forget the love he lost for the rest of his life — the happiness you had brought into his life.

With a heavy heart, he pulled out his wallet and gazed at the small picture of you and him at the carnival on your first date. Steve clung to the memory of that day, to the love he felt for you then and still felt now. A pic of two people in love, captured in a moment of real happiness.

The soldier took a deep breath in, trying to calm himself down, but it was no use. The tears kept coming, a never-ending stream of grief and heartbreak. He knew he had to let you go, had to accept that you were happy with someone else. It was so hard to do, so hard to give up on the love that meant everything to him.

And he whispered three words into the silence of the bathroom, voice choked with tears. It was a desperate plea for a love that he could never have again. And the words would never reach your ears.

"I love you."

XXXXX XXXXX

#avengers x reader #avengers x male reader #avengers imagine #avengers fanfiction #marvel x reader #marvel x male reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x male reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #x male reader #male reader #male reader insert #male reader imagine

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simp-legend · 5 months ago

Text

Drunk Confessions

Requested: No

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Reader

Summary: One of Tony's parties leads you to become very close with a certain silver tongue God

Fic type: Romantic (ig) with a hint of spice at the end

Warnings: None

Words: 758 words

A/N: This is a really terrible oneshot that I've had in my drafts for ages, so apologies. Also I apologise for not being active that much I've been quite busy whilst struggling with mental health.

Proof-Read: No

"But I don't wanna gooo," I told Nat. "Why can't he throw a party some other day when I'm not busy. I need to finish moving in!" I said.

"Well, Tony is kinda throwing this party for you because you are the new avenger," Nat chuckled.

"Then he should have thrown it two months ago when it was finally official, should I wear this dress, or the blue one?" I asked, holding up two dresses.

"The blue one, anyway, on the bright side, you-know-who will be there," she wriggled her eyebrows.

"Who, Voldemort?" I scoffed, turning away to hide my blush.

"No, Loki," she nudged my elbow. I rolled my eyes but had a smile on my face.

~Time skip~

I walked in excitedly but (tried and failed) to keep a straight face. I made my way to the avengers who were sitting around a table laughing and drinking.

"Y/n! Hello!" Thor yelled when he saw me.

"Hey Thor," I waved. I look at the spot next to him to see Loki eyeing me with a face that shows no emotion. Then, to break the awkwardness, Tony walked in with a box of alcohol.

"So I did a quick run to the bar and brought these so now we can officially PARTAAAAAY!" Tony pumped his fist up. After that, more people started to roll in. I got bored after a while so I went upstairs. I opened the doors to the living room to find Wanda watching TV.

"Hey Wanda," I said slumped next to her on the couch.

"Hello Y/n," she said, not looking away from the TV. She was watching some old black and white show. We sat in silence for a while, watching the show. After an hour I decided to head back downstairs and check on everyone.

While I was heading down the stairs when I bummed into Nat.

"Oh, hey Nat. What's going on?" I noticed she had an annoyed face.

"Stark convinced the boys to drink more and now it's chaos down there. The boys got crazy drunk. Even Bruce and Loki are drinking alot," she sighed.

"Oof. Well imma check it out!" I chuckled.

It was absolute chaos. Clint was singing while swinging from the chandler, Thor was wearing a poptart box as a hat while swinging his hammer at non-existent villains, Tony and Rodney were arguing weather the moon was made out of cheese, Steve and Bucky were having a throwing contest with his shield, which so far had resulted to several broken windows.

"Um, is everything ok?" I asked flustered.

"oH, helloY/n!" Loki slurred, waving franticly at me from his spot on the floor.

"Uh, hi?" I said, worried because when I walked in Loki was wondering aloud how long it would take to chop off all of Thor's hair blindfolded.

"Hey, did anyone tell you that ya look very pretty?"

"Um," I was shocked. "Thanks?"

Loki tried to stand up, but stumbled from all the achohal.

"Oof!" I said, as the god crashed into me, resulting us to fall down.

The next thing I knew, Loki was on top of me, and we were laying on the ground, our faces only centimeters apart.

I coughed nervously, and tried to get up but unLuCkY mE, a stool fell on top of us, so we couldn't get up because our legs were stuck. I was a stuttering mess.

"S-s-sor-ry..." I said, my face feeling like it was on fire.

"No worries, Darling," Loki said coolly. Wait... he didn't seem so drunk anymore...sus.

I felt my heart race faster and faster as I couldn't look away from Loki's face. His eyes were focused on mine, then darted to my lips for a hot second. Then he smashed his lips onto mine!

I laced my arms around his neck as he snaked his hands down to my waist, his tongue roamed my mouth as I lightly tugged on his smooth black hair. I wanted it to last for ever. Sadly, luck was not at my side.

After a couple of seconds, minutes, hours, I honestly do not either, nor or care, we broke apart.

Because Clint yelled, "Get a room!" after the chandelier gave way and crashed to the ground.

Blushing furiously, we managed to out of the stupid stool, and off the floor.

"Would you like escape these idiotic Midgaurdians and continue somewhere else lady Y/N?" Loki smirked, turning to me.

"Of course" I grinned mischievously.

Please reblog to boost my page!

Constructive criticism is welcomed!

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katyspersonal · 7 months ago

Note

Hi there

I saw your post about Rellana & Messmer and i really want to know your interpretation of their relationship. Many insist on them being unrequited love but i couldn't really find any evidences that support this interpretation except Rellana's sword description in Eng because the Japanese version is different as it's says the fire & moon were always together .

Anon I am sorry I am so late fdhshf The usual: I was waiting to get to Messmer myself first after doing like 600 side things and then I forgor 😔

But for starters, a couple of funny things regarding the topic! First: I was actually dead sure they were canonically an item because of some thoughts I've heard from the fans early on!! And I got further into this confusion because I've misinterpreted Messmer's emblem as Fire + Twin Moon (since it is two circles overlapping and I first met it in the Castle Ensis), instead of Fire + Two Serpents that it IS! XD

Second: I was instantly confused by the description of Rellana's helmet, because Rennala has brown hair in both concept art portrait and the ingame model. So, the long black hair could not have been a cute parting gift, right....? Well, we resolved it with the help of analysing Japanese text more (this post ( x )), and turned out Rennala DID give her own hair! x) I suppose her hair, or the part that sticks from under the crown, became brown under prolonged strong Amber Egg's light exposure (basically same as sunlight)! However for a month I believed that Rennala simply helped Rellana to tweak her appearance with Amber Egg's magic to charm Messmer better because they knew long black hair was his taste HFSDHFDSGSDG XDDD

So, I was convinced that they were soooo married that they were proudly putting the symbol of alliance of Fire and Moon everywhere. The wording in English 'chase after Messmer' and fanart didn't help x) So.. now it had cleared up a little. As for the Japanese text you're referring to, me and @heraldofcrow asked someone else about it for clarification!

Japanese text breakdown from them is,

Ok, for the first one, she told me that the sentence/description, “ 月と火は、ここでは常に共にあった” has the word “常に” in it for “always.” (It’s “tsuneni” when Anglicized). This means “always, constantly.” So that one is correct. You have verify by even just looking up “tsuneni” in a Japanese dictionary, which I did. Seems right. So, yes the translation is “Moon and fire were constantly/always together here.”

I feel like this is further backed up by a certain other thing within Carians:

Notice how both swords also have identical skill; the use of sorcery with a normal attack after assuming the stance, and the use of fire with a strong attack! Both deal normal, magic and fire damage types! The only thing different is that since then, the celestial body representing the 'sorcery' part changed from stars to Moon, however Carians do not forget their roots!

So all flames, Messmer's included in the end, were an anathema to the Erdtree for the vision of the Cardinal Sin of burning it once (Fire Monks' incantations, Candletree Wooden Shield)!

I see it as Rellana deciding it was bullshit sentiment and actually sorcerers, whether Stars or Moon ones, were supposed to be allies to fire powers, like their origins intended! Liurnia/Carians and the Erdtree became allies after the war ended with Rennala's and Radagon's marriage... Whereas at first Rellana was okay with following the new obligation, for one reason or another she decided to REJECT THE MODERNITY AND EMBRACE THE TRADITION!

I am going to cuss localisation team again, because in Japanese original, the word that is here 'succor' is 癒 (月の輝きが、その男を癒せぬと知っていても) which means to heal! So, the sentiment is, her knowing that she could not fix him the horror plaguing him could not be treated, even with the magic/knowledge of Carians!

Black Knight Commander Andreas and his son Huw stood by Messmer until they've learned WHY Marika "abandoned her son". At this rate I need a T-Shirt that says 'You could never be Tanith' because I need it OFTEN in this DLC hfsdhfds . If Rellana knew of his affliction and still chose to stand by him, that puts her on the level with his Fire Knights, and even his snakes! And we know that Messmer still does need friends, not just his mom.

^ Unlike with the Cleanrot Knights of Malenia getting subjected to her Scarlet Rot by effect, Messmer's flame cannot infect others and it is just a curse for him and his two snake friends. However, Fire Knights attempted to share the burden with him and at least find the satisfaction in using his fire as is! Rellana is similar, because her fire sword IS serpentine and uses his fire:

(Video by Zullie the Witch ( x ))

After having all this context and clearing up my confusion, I think them having unrequited love is possible, but in the other way around! Say instead of her having "chased" him and him not feeling much in return, she had more ideals-fueled reasons to seek him and HE is the one hurting from not being loved the way he wishes!

According to Rogier sky sorceries of either king and the Erdtree were enemies, but sorcery and fire, on the other hand... And an "evil" kind of fire as well; the Fell God is literally named that, it is known as Flame of Ruin, even the Fire Giants carrying it for their god were said to have been burdened by it and it was an anathema to the Erdtree! Marika was not able to overcome her fear before the horror within Messmer although she tried her best to love him, but Rellana maybe decided 'yeah no shade to my sister's tastes but the plea to the Erdtree is kinda dumb, we sorcerers are supposed to be their enemies but allies to all kinds of evil fire! *looks at FF* EXCEPT THAT ONE' fsdhfds She could not heal him, but OG description of her sword makes it sound as though there is a "bigger idea" behind standing with him than just liking him. Aliance of sorcery and fire. She sees standing with him like more natural order and fate!

Messmer, on the other hand, would like to be liked (by her) on a more "primitive" level, without all that historical and philosophical nonsense! He is a person, not a symbol! ..but at the same time, he sorta knows he can't be. It is not just a problem with her, it is a problem with... everyone, really. He is carrying this curse and hates his fire, and to truly understand him would be to experience it the same way as he does. Something Fire Knights attempted to do, but it didn't work. But at the same time, he feels like even if he could infect people with his flame, he would not want to subject her to it in particular. With the Knights their honor kinda implies giving him their all, but despite her also being his blade he sees her as an equal! Someone who is better off not being burdened by his curse. Additionally, he already second-guesses whether he ruined her life by effect by """making""" her lose her right as a princess just to stand with him! Yeah, true, he needs Melina to lecture him on people's agency, but those with very low/negative opinion on selves OFTEN believe that they have more power over people than they actually do. Like they are "manipulating" them by literally just standing there (menacingly), and everything is always their fault..

So yeah! I think Rellana is a little 'clueless' about their bond, nor Messmer is doing enough to express his feelings! She sees them as Moon and Fire, not as Rellana and Messmer, and seems pretty content this way! He, on the other hand, would probably actually charm her romantically if he was not so gloomy and reclusive and put in conscious effort! He has a lot of charisma he is not using to get bitches when he CAN!! But he bounces between the 'why can't she like me in a more personal way?' vs 'wait, why WOULD she? it is better if she doesn't. damn I am an awful person as usual for wanting such thing.' ...🙄

They both have the capacity of developing relationship, but if Rellana is feeling attracted she is clueless about it simply because she won't think of it without being prompted to. With Messmer, he becomes STUPID vulnerable and self-conscious for multiple reasons pondering upon forming a bond this deep with her! I know it is an overused comedy trope, but picture Moonrithyll and [insert a Fire Knight] seeing the clear tension between the two and facepalming about how dumb they are about it XD Or, alternatively, trying to match-make them so they'd stop being so embarrassing and just fuck already lmaoooo fdghfsdg

__________________

Conclusion: both are too occupied with their own stuff to make a conscious effort towards it, but the potential and the tension is here! He has more talent for good romantic gestures and just the right tender things to say than he (or anyone else) realises that would make Rellana blush and stumble. Act slightly tsundereish, even, because she is not good at the "soft" things. She, on the other hand, is on more blunt side and her expressions of attraction would be passionate, and mostly vulgar I think. And that'd make HIM blush, because he is not good at THIS stuff! His style is some sentimental sweet line, her style is complimenting his slim ass or whatever fsdfsg Strong romantic energy from Messmer who dies at sexual commentaries, and strong sexual energy from Rellana who is no longer so tough at some nice poetry. Because they're "opposites" in such ways, there is a lot of awkwardness, but also a lot of dynamic!

(+A funnier interpretation is Messmer being romantic asexual that'd be still willing to have sex with someone he loves, and Rellana is aromantic sexual that'd still be okay with cuddles and kisses and stuff from someone she desires! They have each their own way to love and try to make it work. Just a more 'direct' version of the dynamic I've described previously, is this anything? xd)

#elden ring #messmer the impaler #rellana twin moon knight #what did we call this ship though? I genuinely don't know fhhfd #moonfire #ask replies #elden ring headcanons #screenshots

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lulublack90 · 5 months ago

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Prompt 28 - Map

@wolfstarmicrofic September 28, word count 865

Previous part First Wolfstar part

They didn’t have time to sit around doing nothing just yet, they needed to tell the wizarding world what they had done.

“Who do we go to first?” Sirius asked, looking around their little group. Their little family, he realised, even Marcus.

“Dumbledore,” James said straight away. “He knows who to talk to and how to spread the news. He’ll want to know everything, though,” James turned to Regulus. “Are you ready to come back from the dead, love?” Regulus chewed his bottom lip as he stared up into his boyfriend's eyes and nodded. James’s face split into a grin, and he bent down to steal a kiss. Sirius grimaced, he didn't think he’d ever get used to seeing them do that.

***

Hogwarts loomed before them. They’d walked straight through the main gates from Hogsmeade. Who did they have to fear any more, really? Sirius walked close to Remus, enjoying the freedom they had after so many months of being in hiding. Remus seemed to be thinking the same thing. He bumped Sirius’s shoulder with his own and smiled happily at him. Regulus didn’t seem quite as happy about walking across the grounds to the castle, but everyone thought he was a dead death eater, so Sirius let him off. James was happy enough for the pair of them.

They reached the huge wooden entrance doors and pushed them open. Remus pulled the marauder's map from his robes and, tapping it with his wand, recited.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” Thin black lines sprouted from where Remus’s wand touched the parchment and spread across, revealing the map. Remus scanned it for a few moments, trying to track down Dumbledore. “He’s in his office,” He said finally, folding the map up again and replacing it in robes after wiping it.

The stone gargoyle moved aside the moment they stood before it, even without saying the password. Albus Dumbledore waited for them behind his desk.

“Ah, Mr Potter, you found Mr Black and Mr Lupin, well done,” Dumbledore clapped his hands together, his blue eyes twinkling as he took in the scars that snaked up from Sirius’s collar, the only visible mark of what he now was. He watched as Dumbledore realised that there was another person in the room with them. He instinctively raised his wand at Regulus.

There was a shoving match between the three marauders over who stood in front of Regulus. James won, and Sirius and Remus flanked him, blocking Regulus from Dumbledore’s view.

“Lower your wand, Albus,” Sirius growled, his gravely second tone coming through, even though there was only Remus with him that it meant anything to. But Dumbledore still did as Sirius ordered, sensing the danger before him, Sirius and Remus were still strong with wild magic from the full moon.

“Let’s start again,” Remus said, trying to bring order to the meeting.

“I am listening, Mr Lupin,” Dumbledore nodded towards him before sitting back down at his desk.

“Regulus was caught by Voldemort stealing Slytherin's locket from a hidden cave where Voldemort had hidden it because of what he’d made it into. He then kept Regulus in the dungeon below Lestrange Castle, where Sirius and I were taken after we were captured…” Remus went on to describe their entire ordeal. He looked to Sirius to check if he had permission to out him as a werewolf and, on receiving Sirius’s blessing, continued. “All culminated in the final part of our plan, which occurred last night,” Remus paused for breath, he’d been talking for half an hour already.

“And what was your final plan?” Albus asked, his fingers steepled before his thoughtful face.

“Last night, Lord Voldemort met us in a field close to the previous camp of Fenrir Greybacks and was attacked by our wolf pack. He did not survive.” Remus ended, finally. Dumbledore opened his mouth, but no words came out, they had completely dumbfounded him.

“We have also collected vital memories from Peter Pettigrew that show he was a spy for Voldemort and also the majority of the death eaters in Voldemort's ranks,” Regulus stepped forward and carefully deposited the vials on the wide desk. “I shall also supply memories of those involved with the death eaters if needed,” He drew himself up to his proud aristocratic persona and dared Dumbledore to say anything about it.

“Thank you, Mr Black, that would be exceedingly helpful,” Dumbledore said as he ran his fingers over the collection of stoppered memories. “I would also like to add a thank you on behalf of the wizarding world of Great Britain for the work you and your friends here for defeating the Dark Lord Voldemort,”

Their story told, the four men left the still slightly dazed headmaster and exited the castle to warm sunlight beating down on them. Sirius took Remus’s hand in his, squeezing it gently as they headed towards the main gate. He wanted to fall into bed with Remus and not leave it for at least three days, but he and Regulus needed to take a trip to see their parents. He couldn’t wait to see his mother's face when they walked back in.

Next part

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akwolfgrl · 7 months ago

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Promise day 4

Zoro watched as they drew near to the Braite, the moon dipping below the horizon; the sun just started to peek out. He hadn't seen Sanji in a few months. He was busy trying to save enough money to buy new earrings. They were gold and dangle like his own, but they had a heart made from a blue gem. They caught the light just right and sparkled in a way that reminded Zoro of the shining across the sea. When he first saw them, he had to have them. They looked just like his mate's eyes.

Johnny came to sit beside him yawning, it was still early. They sailed through the night. The Baratie would be getting ready for the day soon, Zoro was going to find Zeff and ask for Sanji's hand in marriage, he thought it was old fashioned but Curly loved romantic shit. Besides, the old geezer would kill him if he didn't.

“Wow, is that what I think it is?” Johnny asked him, pointing at the weird fish shaped restaurant, and Sanji had told him about Zeffs chicken figurehead from back when he was a pirate. The old geezer had questionable taste when it came to the shapes of boats. “Man, I've heard of this place! The food is supposed to be to die for! There's always a good fight to see, and rumor has it there is a pretty blond omega who works there,” He felt Yosaku join them. “People saw he looks like an angel,”

“All ture, the pretty blonde's my mate,” Zoro proudly bragged. He wasn't jealous of other men looking. They had no chance. Women on the hand were a different story.

“Wait, you have a mate?” Yosaku asked, shocked for some reason.

“No fucking duh, the marks right thire,” Zoro pointed to the back of his neck, right where Sanji could always protect him.

“Wow would ya look at that!”

“Way to go bro!”

Zoro spotted a blonde head out on the deck, most likely smoking a cigarette and having black tea watching the sun rise. Zoro couldn't wait anymore. He patted his haramaki, making sure the jewelry box was tucked away safely. Zoro stood up and jumped out of their small boat.

“Zoro!”

“What are you doing?”

“I'm swimming to Sanji!” Their boat was going too slow, and he couldn't wait any longer, Zoro swam towards his omega, his Sanji. His heart was pounding in his chest at the thought of holding the blond in his arms once again.

When he got to the deck, Sanji was waiting for him, his hair aglow in the early morning light. Zoro understood why people would compare Sanji to an angel…if they never met him.

“Marmio? It's about damn time you made your way back here,” Sanji smirked. “Maybe you should stay in the water a little longer, I'll bring you some soap, and you can wash your smelly ass,” Sanji's smoke hearts betrayed how happy he was to see him.

“See if I ever come for a visit again if you're gonna be like that,” Zoro huffed before climbing out of the water.

“The old geezer would be happy,”

“Well that's too damn bad for him,” Zoro grinned and scooped Sanji into his arms and spun him around.

The blonde laughed and took his face in between his hands, his long fingers caressing his cheeks before their lips met. Zoro could taste the omegas tea and cigarettes. Something that shouldn't be so addictive but yet it was. When they finally came up for air, Zoro put Sanji back down

"Marry me." The words tumbled out of his mouth as he returned Sanji to the floor.

The omega looked at him with amusement in his blue eyes, "Aren't you forgetting something,”

"What? Oh." Zoro dropped to one knee and took out the jewelry box. The earrings glittered in the sunlight. "Marry me, I don't wish to be apart from you for a second longer,”

“Yes!” Sanji launched himself at Zoro, knocking them both to the deck, kissing the life out of him.

“Hey! You two no fucking on the deck!” Patty yelled at them.

Zoro didn't need to look to know that Sanji was flipping the other alpha off.

#one piece #opshipweek #fanfic #alpha beta omega #black leg sanji #sanji #roronoa zoro #zoro #zoro x sanji #zosan #how sweet it is to be loved by them #day 4 #promise

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baby-alien11 · 9 months ago

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Met Gala (Y/N Ulrich Universe)

taglist (open): @volturi-girl-imagines @dessxoxsworld @camiesully @ethanlandryluver @nowitsmissing @aliciacat20 @gabbylovesreading @nikfigueiredo @itsaaliyah2

Ever since the invitation for you and Jack to attend the 2024 MET Gala arrived, you and Jack along with both teams of stylist started to work for the looks, managing to pull a replica of a Dior vintage dress and Jack got a custom made suit to match with your dress

"I'm not going to let you go with a boring suit", you said to Jack during the design process of the outfits, "We're going to serve in the Gala"

The months previer to the Gala passed between doing personal projects, fittings of the outfits and tests of hair and make up; and when the time to fly to New York for the even, both of you arrived on saturday night, to be able to watch the Miami GP races on sunday, which ended up in Jack being over the moon to watch a McLaren win, which made you happy because it was one of his favorite teams

The monday of the MET Gala, preparations started early with the styling, and the best thing was that the disagner both of you were using wasn't spoiled online, and you were sure of that thanks to being chronically online

"Almost no one is serving", you commented seeing the first looks arriving

"What's with the beige and black colors?", Jack frowned

"I know, they're not with the dress code"

Having multiple views of all the attendants of the event, the styling continued for almost an hour, in which your hair was the longest to get ready, during which Jack got dressed in his blue with embroidered flowers suit

Once your hair and make up was ready, it was time to put on the dress (which they made floor lenght for the gala), shoes, earrings, bracelet, necklace and took the purse chosen for the look, even putting a bit of pink eyeshaown in your tattoo; before leaving for the event, photos and videos of the looks were taken, individually and in couple, before covering both of your looks with black capes and keep the surprise for the carpet

"I remember when getting ready for the Scream premiere, in that same hotel, you said about feeling like going to the MET", Rachel mentioned on the van on the way to the event, "And now both of you are going, how does it feel?"

"I can't believe Anna Wintour knows who we are", Jack said causing laughs for everyone

"Exactly the same thought", you nodded, "I thought it was going to be a few years before attending, but we are going before turning twenty, this is crazy"

Arriving at the MET, a few more minutes after you were able to go down thanks to the guests arriving, and standing in the line to wait to step into the carpet, but feeling a bit nervous to talk to someone, both of you kept the talking between yourselves, until a voice behind you spoke

"Nice outfits guys"

Hearing that voice, both of you stayed in shock for a few seconds before turning to look at Sir Lewis Hamilton with a black outfit and gold accesories, smiling at both of you

"Thank you", Jack said a bit starstruck

"Is Dior?", Lewis asked

"Yeah, I'm wearing a replica of a 1949 Dior and Jack got a customed suit", you explained, "I'm sorry, we didn't introduce ourselves, I'm Y/N Ulrich"

"Hi, Jack Champion"

"You're the kids Max, Carlos, Lance and Mick talk about", Lewis exclaimed recognising your names, "Nice to finally meet you, also I saw the interview, it was amazing"

"Thank you so much", you smiled, "By the way, amazing outfit"

"Thanks, it's inspired by John Ystumllyn, one of the first black gardeners in England", Lewis explained before opening his coat, "Even I have a poem about him in it"

"This is incredible, all the detail in the look", Jack recognised reading the poem, "By the way, we saw the race yesterday, well, all the weekend, it was incredible"

"It hasn't been a good year for us, but we are pushing the car the best way we can, and thank you for the support, and Max said something about both of you going to Monaco for the race"

"Yeah, he invited us, it was one of the gifts in the box", you nodded

"Well, regardless of both of you being in the Red Bull garage, you are welcome to the Mercedes one, also in the Ferrari one next year"

"It's an honor, thank you", Jack nodded

Soon, the conversation was over as a photographer approached asking for a photo of the three of you, at what all of you possed for it; as the line kept conitnuing and the time to pose in the steps, the three of you continued to talk

When the time to go arrived, Lewis gave both of you a few advices on how to pose and to show the outfits, which both of you made sure to follow, not noticing he was taking photos of both of you with his phone

Walking along the stairs, both of you stopped at the top for a Vogue interview

"Now, we have Y/N Ulrich and Jack Champion, one of the IT couples, guys, I love the outfits, I want to know everything about the looks", the interviewer said

"We are wearing Dior, this is a replica of a 1949 couture dress"

"And this is a costum made Dior suit, it was made so we can match, and stay with the theme"

"Stunning, also this your first MET Gala, how does it feel?"

"Surreal", you smiled, "It's like another world"

"Guys, I know you are the Ghostface princess and prince, but today, you are the floral royalty"

"Thank you", both of you smiled blushing a bit

A little after, both of you continue the way to the building, greeting Anna Wintour who was at the steps greeting all the guests, before entering to see the exhibition and meeting more people (which included you and Rachel Zegler finally meeting in person), and then going to the salon where the dinner and show would be held, finishing the first MET Gala for both of you (and fortunately more to come)

#baby alien creations #y/n ulrich universe #jack champion #jack champion x reader #jack champion scream #jack champion fluff #jack champion fanfic #jack champion imagine #jack champion x y/n #met gala

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rheiple · 2 years ago

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Tea Party in Hell

OneShot

▪︎SUMMARY↦ To think that the tasked that you've been handled would be the cause of meeting your one and only source of nightmare fuel.

▪︎WARNING/s↦ Cussing, Not proofread (I just made this like a min ago)

▪︎CHARACTER/s↦ Eclipse, Reader

▪︎WORD COUNT↦2252 [Minus the dots for the timeskips]

▪︎AUTHOR'S NOTE↦ I have not poster for 5 months☠ uhmm hi again, it's been so long since i have posted, I missed writing fanfics so much 😭 But! School is almost over and I can finally have a 2 months break to focus on my hobbies!! I hope you all take this apology gift for me being dead in 5 months 😭😭 (If I'm being honest idk if I should be embarrassed at the fact that this fic is way longer than all of my 4 essays combined 🕴)

You never really thought of how... unique the Daycare Attendant's room is.

Upon opening the secret door that led you to your robotic friend's room, you scanned everything inside. From the hanged up drawings of the little kids, to the disturbingly looking broken staff bots lying on the corner, it didn't help that with their damaged head it looks like they're all at you.

It really surprised you. That because of their obsession with keeping everything clean and perfect, you assumed that their room would be neat.

Well... everyone has problems you guessed, maybe they're too busy with their job to clean up their room. Poor them, overworking theirselves to shut down. Maybe in another time you'll offer to help them clean their room.

You went inside the tube to access the other side of the room. You see something big that's covered with a dusty blanket. You assumed that it's the arcade machine that the staff decided to keep in there... The confusion on how they got that thing in is giving you a headache, and what pains you more is that you have to get that out when you have fixed it.

You huffed at the thought, why do they need this arcade machine anyways? There are plenty of unused gaming machine at the lowest floor, and they're still working pretty well! What's with all the hype on this one?

Taking off the dirty blanket, you see that the arcade machine looks new... It's already powered on, does Sun and Moon play this game?

You examined it closely, searching for a coin in your pocket. You'll just play the game to see if it's working, if it does then you'll bring it outside and clean it up, easy as pie.

But out of the blue, The name of the game appears on the pixelated screen. It's jolly tune of amusic made you immediately jumped out of surprise.

"What the hell? Is this game haunted or what?" You narrowed your eyes suspiciously at the screen. Do they really think that you're a exorcist and not a staff? You really should thought of this through before signing up for this under paying shit of a job.

Hesitantly in doing so, you grabbed the joystick and pressed on a random button to start the game.

So far it went ok, the game is working well, the sky switches from day to night. Everything is going smoothly wait what the fuck did the game glitched did the sky turned red??

You blinked your eyes, but it turned normal as if it the wasn't even real.

Hell no, you stopped playing and turned around. You know you're going to get paid less, and that's fine because you'd rather live than experience some 3 a.m. scary story creepypasta kind of shit.

You flinched at the sudden ear rape sound that the arcade machine emits. Looking back you noticed that the machine is shaking. Black fingertips slowly emerged from the glitched screen.

You didn't have to think two seconds to try and dart through the tube to get out of that room.

And try as you might, but the moment took a step back the said black hands chased after you. They took a hold of your feet and arms, dragging you slowly, inside the haunted machine.

"Let me go! Assholes!" You twist and turn, kicked your legs and punched one of the hands and yet all of your efforts were in vain.

You're eyes darts around to look for anything that could stop them from pulling you inside, you took blocks and hit them with it. You hold on to the big blocks, or anything that that's heavy to not get pulled.

"No! no no nononono!" You frantically kicked on the machine, lowered your whole body down all to not get close to the screen. You think it worked, for a minute.

Your face drained of color when you see two robotic pair of chance come out. They grabbed on to your waist.

"...Fuck."

You got pulled into the machine.

You sharply gasped at the sudden jolt through your body. It's so loud, you can't focus. You're sweating real bad. You inspect everything around you.

Breathing heavily a few times, you calmed down a bit. And it helps to make you more aware of your surroundings. The loud sound suddenly going lower and slower.

You realized now that the sound you heard earlier was your own heartbeat.

To say that you're going mad is the right word. The place your in looks like an imitation of hell. Bloodshot red of the sky, those black clouds that are thinly outlined with a bright orange. You noticed that that you aren't laying down on a floor, but rather floating, yet not a cloud, just floating.

You look up at the sky and see-...

Your breath hitched upon making eye contact with the culprit who you think is the reason that you're in this hellhole.

"Is that... a god?"

It's face like the Sun you know, but the colors are very dark and, if you look hard enough you could see the inside of the mouth is glowing with a bright yellow.

The creature went down to you, you saw how it's body is just a big black of glob. It took all of your face muscles to not grimace at the sight of it, you didn't wanna die because of offending it in anyway.

The robotic glitched face tilt it's head looking at you.

You gulped at the staring, and decided to greet him quietly.

"...Hi"

You were grabbed by the wrist.

In one quick motion, it lead you up in the sky, abose the clouds when you look down you don't see anything other than the color of the sky.

You screamed and cried, you didn't do anything to deserve this! Sure you might've said something mean to someone but that wasn't intentional! That was the most you could have done at being bad!

You curled yourself into a ball, if you're going to die you hope they make it quick, you want all of this to end. You can just live peacefully in your second life, no more pain, no more scary robots, no more demonic eldritch being wanting to kill you.

You feel them stop and let them go of your hand. You wiped your eyes to clear your vision. You look around to see everything dark, you know you're in some kind of void, but there's alot of stuff hanging around above you.

You look at the monster in confusion. "W... What's all those?" 'Are you going to kill me with all those items?'

It didn't respond, opted to only look at you.

This suddenly irked you. All this silence is about to you hysterical. What's his problem? Does he want to see you suffer? He's already done it, why can't he just kill you now?!

You noticed a shadow looming over you, looking up you see a... Kiddies table coming down between you.

The creature backed away to give the table some space.

Your gaze went back up at the stuff above you, to see two cups and a glass teapot filled with... tea? Or coffee? Either way you're not going to drink that.

It landed on the table, each cup is at the end, with the teapot at the middle.

You eyed the creature, it doing it's head tilt again. "I'm not gonna drink that." You said whilst your crossing your arms.

The teapot floats up again and pours the content at your cup, doing the same at the other. The delicate object went back to it's position.

... Right, an indirect way of telling that you didn't have a choice to begin with. You clicked your tongue in annoyance. Glaring at the monster, asked why you're here.

A minute of silence, and then it finally replied back. "ₒₗd... fᵣᵢₑₙd.." The creature whispered.

"Uh, what??" You couldn't help you're harsh tone. Out of all the things it could've said, it said something so... Weird. As if all of this isn't.

"Old friend who?"

The monster points at you.

Wow. Ok, this is so confusing and stressful. You know that you haven't met it before, so it's highly likely that it must've mistaken you for someone else.

As if reading reading your thoughts- well, at this point it probably is, you're not surprised at anything what it does at this point. The creature called you with your own name.

"Y/ₙ.. ₒₗd f₋fᵣᵢₑₙ-d.."

You cringed at the sound of it calling you by your name. You look down at your uniform to not see your nametag. It knows your name.

Shoulders are tense, you're back is straight. You kept your guard up incase of anything bad will happen. "Get straight to the point, what do you want from me?"

The monster, let's out a glitched and low sound of a motorboat. What the hell is it doing? Putting a curse on you? You should've brought something holy to smack that with it.

"ₘᵢₛₛₛₛₛ,, y₋ₒᵤ₋ᵤ.."

You're not deaf, you are sure that this mother fucker just hissed at you.

You backed away for a bit, and raised up your hands when it tried to inch closer.

"Oi! Back the fuck up!" You semi- yelled at the Eldritch as a warning... When you think about it, what is there to warn it about? It could've killed you if it wanted to. Compared to it, you're just a human being with no powers what so ever.

But to your surprise and relief, the creature backed away. Although you think it's because it's of the darkness, you shrugged off the thought of the creature lowering it's head because it was sad of what you did.

Good, he deserved it for scaring you and taking you away.

Now that everything is calmed down, you repeated your question once again.

"...ₕₑₗₚ₋ₚ ₘ₋ₑₑ.."

"Help you? With what?"

"Fᵢₙd...ₘₑ₋ₑ"

You scratched the back of your head. "I don't understand, all of this doesn't! You're already here so why do I have to find you?!"

You head starts throbbing, your vision is getting blurry each second. What? That's impossible, you didn't even drank the fucking tea!

"..ᵢₙₛᵢdₑ."

You collapsed.

You're being moved. Left and right. Someone familiar is calling your name.

"Y/n..."

Each time you don't answer they're call, they shake you harder.

"...Y/n."

You feel like throwing up from all the things you've went through today. It all felt like a bad dream.

But was it really a dream? You've felt it touch you, it was so real.

"...Y/n?"

And it asked you for help to find it. What does that mean? Find it, inside? Does it mean the arcade? Should you check inside the arcade?

"Y/n!.."

You jolted upwards to sit. You look around, only to see Moon with a worried face.

"Y/n... What are you doing here?"

Loss of words, you shakily pointed at your phone. He seemed to get the memo, as he went for it, he turned it on and went into your emails.

Hi Y/n,

Jamil, your coworker, is here. You were asked by the Fazbear manager to repair the arcade game in the daycare attendant's room. He claimed that kids have a lot of requests for an arcade game that is centered on them. I'm confident you'll be able to locate the movie pirate poster at the theater where their room is located.

You can take your time, but with Fazco, they would like to have the required completion by tomorrow morning. We deeply appreciate on what you do for us, and please be careful.

Regards,

Jamil Mariano

The moon themed animatronic sighed. He went to you and gently picked you up. "I'll take you down stairs.. You need to rest Starlight."

You fidgeted with your fingers. "But what about that?...The Fazco, and the arcade?"

"That's why I'm taking you away from it, Star. You've been through enough, you deserve to sleep well."

You leaned on his chest. You could worry about the machine later, right now you trust Moon to have your back... Just, a little nap wouldn't hurt..

The night themed robot emits a lullaby, a great distraction for you to not hear him talk with his other half, that's been talking inside their shared minds.

'Moon?...Do you think they saw him?'

He lets out a tired sigh. "They probably have.."

The Sun began to ramble question after question to fill their minds with. What should they do? Do they need help?- Oh, of course they do! But how do we help them?? Can't we just destroy the arcade machine?! No wait, what if it went to another arcade machine, or worse, what if went through their phone?! Who knows what he have done to our Starshine-

The moon softy hissed at his counter part. it annoyed him to hear him worry like this, yet he understands. He too is worried for their friend's safety, that's why they need to deeply think this through before they might do something rash.

"Let's... Not worry for now, they're safe here.. And we should focus on the present, to be aware of our surroundings... to protect them.."

The rambling died down, and Sun agreed... However, they couldn't really push back down their thoughts, they need to act quicker than him. If they dont want to loose the only friend they have.

#fnaf x reader #fnaf sb x reader #security breach x reader #fnaf sb #moondrop x reader #eclipse fnaf #eclipse x reader #eclipse x y/n #fnaf x y/n #fnaf sb x y/n #daycare attendant x reader #fnaf security breach #fnaf daycare attendant

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 1 year ago

Note

What if in New moon Bella had a one night stand with Jacob? (She losses her virginity to Jacob) Does she feels more insecure of her relationship with Edward in Eclipse? Does she still hangs out with Jacob? Do Edward and Bella even marry or have sex in Breaking dawn?

Oh, anon, you know not what you do.

The Thing About Bella and Sex

Remember, Bella only looks as horny as she does because she's a) a romantic b) Edward's over there not wanting sex at all. She had no boyfriends before Edward and sex was all about "sex with Edward" specifically to cement their relationship and having this validating, romantic, human experience before she went out/potentially lost all ability to want Edward in a sexual manner because of vampirism and blooooooooooood.

What I'm getting at is that sex is not a casual thing to Bella.

She wanted it without marriage because Bella has very mixed feelings about marriage and never wanted to get married at all/saw it as the death knell of her relationship with Edward and what she wanted with him.

If Bella wants to have sex with Jacob it will be because she at least believes, if not is, in love with him and wants to take their relationship to the level she was at with Edward/past where she got with Edward.

Specifically, giving her virginity to Jacob, Bella would see explicitly as choosing him over Edward, giving up on Edward, and giving away something she can never give a second time to Jacob over Edward.

This is not a casual thing and if it is a one night stand it's a very romantic "and then I sneak out the window romantically and we never speak to one another again but hold this moment in our hearts forever".

(As a reminder, Bella in New Moon wasn't ready to even think about dating Jacob until after the cliff jump/just when she spotted Carlisle's car at which point she still ran out like he was yesterday's news. We're talking holding hands level, after months of seeing him as her only friend and emotional support through this time, she's nowhere close to casual sex.)

But, There Is a Way

Oh, Hallucination Edward, my favorite character.

"Bella, don't have sex with Jacob".

Jacob doesn't realize it, but he gets to have sex with severely depressed Bella who keeps staring over his shoulder instead of at him because she's watching Edward watch her have sex with Jacob, not because she enjoys his pain (and Hallucination Edward is Hallucination Crying), but because the longer she does this, the longer Edward sticks around watching her do it.

It's almost like having sex with Edward.

The thing is...

This ain't a one night stand.

This is the most successful Bella has been with Hallucination Edward throughout New Moon. He stayed for--however long it took Jacob to get to completion.

"Jacob, we should do that again" Bella says on realizing Hallucination Edward has vanished in the aftermath.

Jacob, deep down, knows something is wrong about this but he can't pinpoint what exactly that is and having Bella as his girlfriend/having sex with her can't be a bad thing, right? This means she loves him? Right?

"I think you should also whip and or suffocate me" Bella says, because Hallucination Edward is attracted most to danger.

:/ Says Jacob who... didn't have that in mind.

Bella Still Jumps off a Cliff

New Moon remains the same, except there's a BDSM subplot in which Bella asks Jacob to make their sex life spicier and spicier while also riding motorcycles/everything else she's doing. Jacob's starting to feel used and uncomfortable in a weird way, but he still can't pinpoint what, exactly, is wrong and thinks that Bella's just... a little messed up from Edward and kind of wild.

He assumes Edward, the leech, and evil incarnate, beat her in the bedroom and that Jacob is now in the plot of Blue Velvet. This explains why Bella can't talk to him and is also doing... this stuff...

But she still jumps off a cliff and oh there's Alice. Bella doesn't confess about her wild sex life with Jacob Black as Alice is already judging her/she doesn't want to admit she rebounded on Jacob within only a few months of Edward leaving and oh my god she rebounded on Jacob and she never realized that because she was just summoning Hallucination Edward through BDSM.

She's even feeling increasingly awkward that Jacob was around where Alice could see him and... trying to tell Alice that he and Bella are together and "no, don't tell her that, Jacob I... don't want the leeches to know. Wink."

Alice is actually fooled by this as she hasn't seen Bella with Jacob/doesn't see them because Jacob is a shapeshifter. She just thinks Bella is being weird because Edward left her (and she told Edward this would happen).

Fast forward, Bella has to save Edward's life, Jacob is even more appalled as Bella's leaving him to save Edward then we get back and oooooh Edward did want to get back together. Bella hadn't realized that.

Now, in her bedroom, Bella is having a crisis. She's accepted that maybe she's rebounded on Jacob but the thing is that Edward's the love of her life but she was untrue to him. In a panic, I imagine Bella latches on to Edward and still holds the vote. She has to get turned into a vampire so Edward's stuck with her for good er before it's too late.

Afterwards, Bella realizes she has a problem, she has to break up with Jacob.

Bella Doesn't Want to Break Up with Jacob

The thing is, as in canon, Bella values Jacob's friendship and doesn't want to give it up even for Edward. She tries to back peddle with Jacob and go back to just being friends without the, you know, BDSM stuff.

Jacob can't even even more than he did in canon.

Which means he blurts it to Edward at the first opportunity. He blurts that a) he knows Edward's a sick perverted fuck in the bedroom who makes Bella do things like whip herself b) he's been sleeping with Bella while Edward's away.

Edward loses his goddamn mind.

Bad enough that Mike Newton was a hypothetical human who could hold Bella's hand while she's getting stitches. Bad enough that Jacob has appeared out of nowhere in Bella's life and Edward can't get rid of him. Now Jacob is Bella's lover, who truly cares for him, and Bella thinks Edward's a pervert weirdo?!?!?!

Edward can't get over this. He confronts Bella who tries to set the story straight but makes it worse. See, Edward, she liked adrenaline things when he was away and discovered um her sexuality and BDSM. Jacob just thinks it was because of Edward for some reason and that reason is totally wrong.

Edward now feels like a prude, emasculated, and dying that JACOB CAN HAVE SEX WITH BELLA AND EDWARD HASN'T. I imagine...

Nothing actually changes, Edward still wants to marry first, then have sex, but this will always haunt him and always come up in every argument. He pointedly 'forgives' Bella for cheating on him (which Bella's grateful for because she feels like she cheated even though Edward had very much left), he still pressures her to marry him to have sex with him/turn her, and so we get the rest of the plot.

Just that when Jacob's a mind whammied thrall he tells Renesmee "I've been in your mother's human vagina just like you :)"

#twilight #twilight meta #twilight headcanon #twilight renaissance #bella swan #edward cullen #jacob black #anti edward cullen #anti bella swan #bella/jacob #anti bella/jacob #bella/edward #anti bella/edward #meta #headcanon #opinion

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rmoonstoner · 2 years ago

Text

***

Poisoned Empanadas

***

Pairing:

Moon Knight (Jake Lockley) x Spider!fem!reader

Spider-Man 2099 (Miguel O'Hara) x Spider!fem!reader

***

18+

Warnings:

Violence, strong language, mentions of death, mentions of depression, sexual themes, volatile emotions, dats a big boi, warnings will change

***

Summary:

A new man comes prowling around, and you have a small misunderstanding.

***

Chapter 3 - Empanadas Chilenas - Chile

These are popular during the month of September when Fiestas Patrias occurs. During Easter, beef isn't used for religious reasons, and substitutions like eggs, seafood, and cheese are used. Common ingredients are beef (not during Easter), seafood, onions, hard boiled eggs, raisins, cheeses, and olives. Garlic, cumin, paprika, and pepper are great spices to accompany the filling. The pastry is made from white flour made of wheat.

***

Patrol tonight was going to suck. Gwen had cancelled at the last minute, because of a family crisis at home. Miles was home in bed, sicker than you'd ever seen him before. Peter was busy working on a paper and studying for finals for school, so that just left you, the one with no other obligations to keep you busy. You felt sorry for all of them.

You were up on a tall building as you surveyed your surroundings. It had been hours, and the city had been quiet for once. Nothing looked or sounded out of the ordinary for now. You were kind of sorta hoping something small might happen. Small enough so you weren't bored or really threatened.

Sure as shit, it was as if you had just manifested something to happen.

A scream alerted you to the south, and you darted off towards the noise. As you got closer, you heard metal trashcans banging together, a loud snarl, and what sounded like a fight. You got to the edge of the roof and looked down to see a man in a mask and a skin tight black and red suit. He was throwing a punch at a thug, only for the guy to pull out a knife and growl at him. The masked man leapt back and ducked as he was lunged at, then you heard the unmistakable sound of a web thwipping out and hitting skin.

You squinted and saw webs all over the guy, which threw you off. When you looked closer at the man, you saw he had a spider on his chest. This guy was a Spider-Folk? Why hadn't you ever seen him before? None of the others had ever mentioned him.

"I suggest you give it up, mi amigo."

You froze for a second, then hid behind a wall. That voice sounded exactly like Jake's voice, AND he was speaking Spanish! Your heart began to race wildly in your chest.

"Come on! Stop trying to stab me, you're embarrassing yourself." The man in the mask continued as you heard a punch, then another crash of trash cans. You heard him laugh, and it was almost the same, but distinctly different at the same time. Almost like he was enjoying this too much.

"Asshole! I'll fucking kill you, you Spider-Man rip off!"

"Haha, yeah right. I’ve heard that one before." You could hear the cockiness in his voice. It really sounded like Jake to you, and you needed another look, before you got angry about it.

Peeking over the ledge again, you made your suit darken a bit to blend in better with the shadows. You watched this man beat the snot out of the thug. Admittedly, you thought that was incredibly hot. Jake in a Spider-Folk outfit, smashing a guy's face in and covered in blood, and now he was tying him up. The guy was unconscious, up near the entrance of the alleyway.

"Alright. I know someone's up there. I can hear you breathing. And you smell like flowers." The masked man said as he looked directly up at you. You squeaked and immediately shrank flat to the ground.

"Are you seriously trying to hide after I just said- Oh forget it. I'm coming up there!" The man shouted up at you and you scrambled to your feet and backed away from the ledge.

Of all fucking nights to be alone, and this fucking happens!

"Hey there!" You suddenly heard his voice from behind you. You shrieked and scooted back again. You didn't even see or hear him come up.You always saw them coming, but not him.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" You gasped as he hopped down and stared at you. He was staying still, arms crossed as he chuckled at your little scare.

"Whoa, I am sorry. I won't hurt you. I've seen you in the news outlets around town. You're that Galaxy Spider, aren't you?" The man asked, and you squinted at him again.

Jake knew that information. Was he trying to play stupid with you? Was he trying to pretend you couldn't recognize him in that get up?

"Uh, yeah." You almost sounded snide about it, and he held his hands up in defence.

"Hey, I am not one of those weirdo fan boys, okay? I'm just some guy with spider powers. I'm trying to help out while I’m in town."

In town?

In.

Fucking.

Town!?

Had he been just hiding here in New York this whole god damned time, just watching you?

What the fuck?

"Cut the crap, Jake Lockley. I know it's you!" You suddenly snapped at him as you straightened up. You were pissed.

"Huh? That's not my name-"

"Bullshit, Lockley! How could you keep this—-" You were just barely under a yelling tone as you ripped off your mask, mostly just so he could see just how angry you were. You motioned quickly to his suit, hands going up and down in fast motions. He was shocked, staring at your eyes as you seethed with rage.

"—-This whole Spider-Persona a secret from me!? Like we've been dating for three fucking years, and you know I'm a Spider, and not once did it occur to you to tell me that you also happen to be a fucking Spider!?" By now you were shaking with anger, trying desperately not to activate your webbing with how hard you were clenching your fists. You wanted to punch him so bad.

"Okay, lady, I'm not who you think I am, okay? My name is not Jake Lockley. My name is Miguel O'Hara." The man that claimed his name was Miguel, slowly took his mask off.

That didn't help anything at all, because there was his face.

His stupid, perfect, fucking face, looking just like Jake's. You were so blinded by the hurt Jake had caused, you didn't believe this man, even if he looked younger, and kind of beefier. Okay, a lot beefier. And taller, too?

"See?" He tried to continue, but you pointed at him, sticking your finger right into the center of his chest.

"You look just like him!" You hissed and the man pinched the bridge of his nose and hissed back. His hair was shorter, a bit of a mess, and he had red eyes that almost seemed to glow.

"But I am not him."

"Same face. Same voice. You speak Spanish." You said as he rolled his eyes.

"Are his eyes red?" Miguel countered, and you dropped your finger and looked into his eyes. He was right. He had red eyes.

"Uh, no… They glow white sometimes… Never red, uh, unless he's been hitting the green, if ya know what I mean." You sheepishly replied, then remembered people could have contacts.

"But how do I know these aren't fancy contacts?"

"You don't, but I can assure you they aren't. It's part of my Spider powers, just like you can summon lights and stand on them." He replied and you huffed. Okay, point taken, but you were still not fully trusting this man yet.

"Let me see your left arm. Jake has a tattoo." You demanded, and Miguel got right to work on removing his glove and rolling up his sleeve. The first thing you noticed, was the weird looking watch he had. Jake preferred a different kind of watch and you never saw him remove it. Then you saw all the scars Miguel had. They all were in different places then the ones on Jake. Then you noticed the forearm, and there wasn't a tattoo of hieroglyphics there.

"See? I am not him." Miguel again protested to being your ex. That was when you noticed his hands. His nails specifically. They were fucking claws, and longer than yours! He noticed you looking, and he put his gloves back on fairly quickly.

"That's… That's crazy. I guess I owe you an apology…" You quietly replied while looking down.

"Oh course you owe him an apology!" A small feminine voice spoke up. Miguel covered his watch and turned away.

"Lyla, shh!"

"Lyla?" You were confused. Was that his handler?

"Uh, she's my personal AI assistant." Miguel explained after he turned off the watch light.

"Oh… Like Mr. Stark's Jarvis?"

"Uh, yes. Like Jarvis."

"Whoa… That's actually pretty cool. I am sorry, Miguel. It's just… Nevermind. I'm sorry." You said as you slumped against the wall to catch your breath and slow your heart rate down.

"Whoever this Jake guy is, I don't like him. He sounds like he messed you up good." Miguel said with a sour looking face.

"He… He did." You looked away and reached up to move the hood down and scratch at your neck where the fastener was.

Miguel looked down at his watch, and sighed. Lyla was glaring at him and motioning towards your general direction while mouthing, 'Do something.'

"Hey, uh… Wanna talk about it? This is a judgement free zone." He offered as he leaned against the wall and waited.

You glanced at him and then at your feet. Why not? He seemed nice enough to you.

"Sure, I guess." You huffed and crouched down to stretch your body, then sat on the cold concrete. Miguel got down and sat with his legs crossed, his hands resting on his remarkably large thighs.

"So, uh… Jake is my ex boyfriend. We were dating inconsistently for three years…"

"Inconsistently?"

"Yeah, well, about that… He disappeared a lot. Never told me where he went, or what he did. He would often show up covered in blood from stab wounds and gun shots. I would help him out, then the next morning he was all better, like nothing had happened the night before. He always refused to tell me what had happened and why he was healing so fast."

"That sounds a lot like a super powered vigilante hero to me."

"I know, right? So, anyway, he would get irritated with me every time I asked about it, break up with me, then leave for long periods of time. He would always come crawling back and expected to just walk right back into my life like he didn't just break my heart and run away." You huffed in frustration as you ran your hands through your hair.

You heard a low growl come from Miguel. When you looked up at him, he looked pissed. Both of his fists were clenched, his jaw tight, and his red eyes somehow brighter.

"What a shocking coward. Here you are, busting your ass off for this city to protect it, and there he is, being a selfish prick. He's clearly using you as a comfort door mat, without thinking about your feelings."

"That's how I feel." You whispered back as your voice cracked.

"Look, that's not healthy. You're out here doing your best, and you don't deserve to be walked all over like that. Where is this idiot?" He asked as he stood up and cracked his knuckles.

"He left to go to London. Said he had some undercover gig to do, and it was a long haul sting. Wouldn't tell me anything else, aside from the fact he gave me a mailbox address." You explained. Miguel squinted at you.

"That's cold. How long ago was this?"

"About four months now, I think. He did it on our anniversary, actually." At this point your eyes were slowly leaking. You were trying so hard not to sob.

"He did not! That's horrible… And he hasn't contacted you since?"

"Nope." You said with a small sniffle. Miguel leaned forward ever so slightly.

"Damn, girl. Forget about that guy. Live your life. You're too good to be tied down to such a loser like that." Miguel remarked. You looked up at him and smiled. It was weird, but he was nice and very supportive for just meeting him. He wasn't being a perv or a creep either.

Oh, but he did look like he wanted to beat Jake up. That was a very pleasant image to think about. Watching two hot look- a- likes kick each other's asses. You would be lying if you said you were rooting for Jake.

"Thank you. I wish Jake would have seen it that way. I'm still living like I was. Like I am waiting for him to drop in at any moment to fuck up my flow. Though, this is the longest he's been gone, so it's easier to believe he's not coming back, even when he said he was." You explained as you leaned back against the wall and sighed heavily. With a quick wipe of your arm, you removed the tears from your cheeks and eyes.

"Don't let him have that power over you. You're a treasured wonder of the world. You have adoring fans, and people look up to you. Any man that is with you , should cherish the time they get with you. He should be worshipping you."

"That's hard to do, I… I just miss him. He was always so good to me when he was around…"

"Well, the man isn't treating you right now, is he? He should have told you what his deal was, if he has powers, and what they are. He should have told you if he's a superhero, a vigilante, or whatever the shock he is. If he loved you, really loved you, he wouldn't have dumped you in the first place."

"I, uh, I guess?"

"No, not you guess. If he loved you, he would have been open about everything. Tell you what he was doing, who he really is, where he was going and for how long. It's not fair that he knew what you were doing, yet he wouldn't return the favor. He didn't trust you. A good relationship is based on trust, open communication, and consideration for all partners involved." He sounded passionate as he spoke. Passionate enough to stand up and start pacing as he made very valid points to you.

A soft shudder went through you and you pulled your knees up to your chest. His words hurt to hear, but he was right. It still made the tears spill forth. Miguel crouched down next to you and placed a hand to your shoulder as he cooed to you.

"Hey, it's alright. It's okay to cry. If it helps, I am gonna be in town for a while. If he comes back, I'll kick his shocking ass. It's not hard to miss a guy that apparently looks just like me." He seemed eager to kick Jake's ass for you, and he hadn't even known you for an hour yet.

But you didn't get the slang he was using. It sounded funny and weird to you, because you swore a lot. Like, so much, you had been a tabloid hit for your potty mouth.

"Why do you keep saying shocking, instead of fucking?" You asked, and he laughed nervously.

"Oh, I, uh… Where I come from, we use 'shock' in place of 'fuck'." He shrugged and rubbed his neck with a crooked smile. He smiled a lot differently than Jake. It was natural, not forced. That and the fangs he had were a dead giveaway that this wasn't Lockley.

In fact, now that you were no longer blinded with rage, you took a moment to actually look at this man. His cheekbones were slightly more pronounced, his face more defined and chiselled. He was all muscle, while Jake had a bit of padding in the middle. Miguel was taller, like a lot taller. You felt like he could block out the sun, while Jake could only block out the moon.

Then you noticed how much younger he was, or at least he appeared to be. He could have been older. You were a terrible judge of age, especially after finding out that Wong and Stephen weren't in their fifties like you thought they were. You thought America was in her twenties, but she was younger than Peter and Miles. You even made the mistake of thinking Scott was in his mid thirties, when he was older than Stephen.

Miguel noticed you staring at him, and you looked away once you realized it. After a moment, you looked back, seeing he was blushing and fiddling with his watch.

"And where do you come from?" You tilted your head up to look at him, waiting for an answer. He looked away and then back at you with a worried look.

"I, uh… You won't believe me…"

"Try me. You just showed me there's a guy out here that looks like my ex. I live in the Sanctum with wizards and other Spiders, and I have super powers."

"Shock, you're right. Well, uh… I am from the future of another universe." He carefully said and then winced. You could tell he was awaiting your disapproval.

"Oh… That actually makes so much sense!"

"It does? Wait, you believe me?" He was surprised and he visibly relaxed at your acceptance.

"Yeah, I sure do! Stephen said there was a cosmic anomaly and he couldn't find a reason as to why! That must have been you! When did you get here?" You asked as you shifted to lean forward.

"Um… About three weeks agooo-ooh!?" Miguel scooted back a bit, lost his balance, and landed on his ass. You giggled at his droopy grin.

"Aha! That's when he said the anomaly happened!" You reached out and helped him up.

He was heavier than Jake!

"Oh. That's probably me. There was an experiment I was conducting, and it sent me here. I've been working on getting back, but I need to find an adequate power source to get back-"

"I could ask Stephen for you!" You offered with excitement. Miguel groaned and shook his head.

"No, thank you. I would rather figure it out for myself. In fact, I would really prefer it if you didn't tell him about me."

"Well, I can’t just lie to the man if he asks. He has a third eye, and he's very good at reading people." You replied, which made him raise a brow.

"A what?"

"A magical third eye. It helps him see people's true intentions, whether or not they are lying to him, and sometimes, he uses it to read people's minds." You said and Miguel blinked a few times.

"Okay, I don't want to meet this guy then."

"Chances are, he already is aware of who you are, and where you are at this exact moment. He tracks me, Spider-Man, and the other Spiders every night to make sure we are all okay."

"Shock. You have a powerful wizard watching you? That's kind of… Well, kind of creepy if you ask me."

"I don't mind. If I am in trouble, he'll show up. He is like the collective Spider father figure around here. He cares about us."

"But what if, you know, you wanted 'privacy'?" He looked around and whispered, as if that would stop the doctor from hearing him if he was indeed watching.

"Oh, then he'd stop watching. He's not a pervert or anything. At least not that I know of." You laughed and gave a little snort. Miguel smiled and sat back.

“So, future boy, where are you staying? Please tell me it’s not a box under a bridge, because no offence, you sure smell like it.” You asked as you waved your hand in front of your face. He blushed and looked away.

“Not a box, but he does smell like he has been sleeping under a bridge like a troll-“ You heard his watch pipe up, and he slammed his palm over the speaker.

“Oh god, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean-“ The words came tumbling from your mouth.

“It’s fine.”

“It is not fine. You stink. You need a shower or a good long soak in a hot tub.” You said and paused for a moment. He stunk, but like a garbage bin or something. You almost wondered if he was homeless while he was here. It made sense if he was from the future.

“I actually was thrown into a dumpster this morning. I haven’t bothered to go back to my hotel.”

“Oh my god. I am sorry.”

“Naw, it’s fine, really. I chose not to go and shower. I had been chasing that guy all day. He managed to knock me into a dumpster, almost got away, then I spent my time watching him from the rooftops. I finally caught him when you showed up.”

“Does that mean you haven’t eaten?”

"Yeah, actually. I'm starving."

"Hold on a second then." You smiled and pulled out your phone.

Miguel watched as you stuck your tongue out between your teeth and tapped away quickly. Your fingers moved just slow enough for the phone to register your touch commands. He had never seen anyone type that fast before.

"What are you hungry for?" You brought up a food delivery app and scrolled around.

"Uh… Is it bad that I want Chinese? No, wait… I am really craving some good pizza." He said.

Pizza? That was great, because you knew a little place around the corner. Putting your phone away, you quickly put your mask away into your bag, tucked your collar down, and then pulled out some sweatpants. Miguel was confused for a second, that is until you kicked your shoes off and hopped into the pants. You put the shoes back on and then grabbed your wallet.

"OK, let's go over a block to the west. There's a really good pizza place over there. I go there all the time to pick up dinner for the Sanctum. Stephen usually gets pasta, my friends get pizzas, and I like the wings." You announced and left over to the next building.

"Oh? That sounds good." Miguel asked as he easily kept up with you.

"Yeah. I'm getting myself the Chipotle and honey wings." As you spoke, your mouth watered at the idea of soon having delicious chicken wings.

"I want an extra large Hawaiian. Extra pineapple." Miguel said with excitement as he licked his lips and did a flip in the air.

You landed on the roof of the pizza place, and Miguel opted to stay up on the roof while you went to order and pick it up. He was surprised to see you come back up fifteen minutes later with a pizza box and two containers of wings.

Notes:

***

Series Master List

***

Also, the height thing bugs the shit out of me. Moon Knight is supposed to be 6'2". We know Oscar is a short king. But! Miguel is supposed to be 5'10. We see Miles, who is supposed to be 5'8", but Miguel literally towers over him by a lot, telling me the man is well over 6'2". So, I don't give a fuck what anyone says. This Miguel is gonna be like 6'9". Deal with it.

I asked a friend for Miguel's favorite food. It's their opinion. So there.

***

Special thanks to:

Beta reading:

@einno-arko

Proof reading:

@howaboutcastiel

***

Ideas:

@einno-arko @howaboutcastiel @theaussiedragon

It won't let me tag some of you.

Tags:

@theaussiedragon @autismsupermusicalassassin @readingfan @missdragon-1 @marvelescvpe @lunar-ghoulie @cicithemess2000 @animesnowstorm @mahbeanz @dafuqelaine @bby-lupin @paranoiac-666 @konniebon @cl0v3r-s0up @seraphine-so-pretty @jupitersmoon167 @butterflypillows @ivystoryweaver @mintellaine

IF YOU WISH TO BE TAGGED, PLEASE LET ME KNOW.

#moon knight #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x y/n #jake lockley x you #jake lockley x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #spider man 2099 #miguel o'hara #spider reader

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unioctopus-draw · 9 months ago

Text

MediCat 🐱💉

“Meow.”

The Scout (from the RED team) has a secret relationship with the Medic (from the BLU team). They have loved each other since without their teammate's noticing them. They go somewhere on their vacation trips as they go to Cancun in Mexico, Philadelphia in Pennsylvania, Salem in Massachusetts to learn about the history of witch trials, Miami in Florida, and also see the alligators. Furthermore, they also go to San Antonio and Plano in Texas, and even Minneapolis in Minnesota for Christmas.

They are planning to elope and start to new life,

Life is good for them.

Until, one day…

BLU Medic suddenly vanished with no signs of traces. This made the BLU teams slowly begin to panic and think it was the RED team kidnapping him. However, they denied kidnapping their healer. Red Scout must act naturally and keep a secret, he remembers from the previous night that RED Scout is with Blue Medic somewhere in the middle of nowhere at Badlands. He notices his expression of something brother him, RED Scout tries to talk about what's wrong.

But, BLU Medic didn't tell him. He is just silent and looks up at the full moon.

No one knows where and why BLU Medic vanished. Meanwhile, RED Scout locked in his room and desperate for his beloved partner vanished, not knowing what he was going to do himself.

RED Scout tried to call and text him, but unfortunately, no reply from him. He also remembers during their getaway vacation in the room of the hotel and overheard his partner arguing with someone on his phone.

RED Scout knew it was his ex-wife. She and BLU Medic got divorced six months ago because they had a rocky relationship for a reason. He didn't tell his family about his divorce because he and his family do not have good terms with each other.

“Could it be that his ex-wife wants back together with him for reasons? Is that why, Doc, vanished?” RED Scout thoughts.

Ten days later after BLU Medic vanished, the BLU teams finally had a new healer N.B.M. (means New BLU Medic) since others tried using the Medi Gun to heal them, but they didn't work out. As for the Red Scout, he seems getting moving on and almost forgot about his partner.

One afternoon, RED Scout was taken out of the trash from the back of the RED base. As soon as Red Scout went back inside, he then heard meowing out of nowhere. RED Scout began to look both sideways away at first and then five seconds later, there was another meowing as he looked down.

A kinda similar to Calico, however, instead of colors like orange, black, and white known as a tri-color coat like the original Calico. This cat had a very light blue, sky-blue, and light black tri-color coat. It wears glasses and a bow tie and has a curled bang on its forehead. Lastly, instead of having a ‘normal body’ like other cats and animals.

This feline was round shaped body like a mochi and almost size like Maine Coon. RED Scout notices this cat's appearance, it kinda looks like his partner, BLU Medic, who vanished without any traces behind.

RED Scout realized that he was feeling lonely because his teammates were too busy to deal with it and had been suffering from Bipolar Depression since having a hard time with his past. So, he took the blue Calico cat inside and went to his room.

RED Scout gave the blue Calico cat water and food as pieces of ham, which he named him.

‘MediCat’

Here is my digital artwork of RED Scout playing with his cat, MediCat using the cat feather wand toy. Now, I did try my best to draw a human character like RED Scout, and can't draw hands.

Sorry 😥

Hope you all like my story and digital artwork!

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astrophileous · 1 year ago

Text

I'm in It for the Money

Part 1 of 4 from The Countdown series.

The above image does not indicate the reader's physical appearance.

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Female Reader

Synopsis: When Derek is forced to go undercover for a case, he doesn't expect to encounter the past that has haunted him for years.

Word Count: 4400-ish

Warning(s): STRONG NSFW IMPLICATIONS (nothing too graphic but MINORS BE ADVISED), past trauma/abuse, child abuse, undercover life, mention of dead animals, estranged parent-child relationship, discussions about organized crime (including but not limited to narcotics, firearms, human trafficking), mentions/talks of serial killers, cursing and other foul language, smoking (cigarette), implied age gap (undefined) (pls lmk if I miss anything)

Author's Note: another special shout out to @avis-writeshq for beta 🥺💞 I hope you like this one! Pls don't forget to leave a LIKE+COMMENT+REBLOG tyyy ❤️❤️✨️✨️✨️

Criminal Minds Masterlist

The abandoned factory smelled like piss. It was the first thing Derek reckoned the moment they stepped into the darkened lot. Perhaps it was the meager visibility that caused his other senses to heighten. He swore he could almost hear a dying rat fighting for its last breath deep in the imposing darkness, but he might as well have been hearing the rush of his own blood.

Next to him, Agent Temples lit up a cigarette.

"I must say, until last month, I thought I'd seen all kinds of evil there are," Temples said before taking a long swig. "But a syndicate of serial killers?"

"Evils come in different shapes and sizes." Derek jerked his eyes towards the other man for emphasis. "Believe me."

A cloud of smoke appeared in front of Temples' face before it dissolved into the pitch blackness. "You've seen them all, haven't you?"

Derek didn't warrant him an answer. Instead, he steered the conversation towards the case at hand. "Tell me about your UC."

Temples relented. "She's been under for four. Smart, perceptive, vigilant. She was in the bureau for a short while."

This new piece of information tugged at Derek's intrigue.

"Really?"

"Your loss, our gain." Temples shrugged. "You'll know when you see her."

Derek nodded his head silently.

He stared at the tall windows on the distant wall. The foul odor around him had dwindled since his eyes adjusted to the feeble light from the moon. Either that, or Derek was subconsciously building resistance towards it. He couldn't decide which one was worse.

Agent Temples was flicking the butt of his cigarette when the first roar of an engine echoed in the distance. Derek's instinct kicked in, pushing his body to its full stature the second he saw what looked like a motorcycle light penetrating the window. Soon after the sound of the motorcycle reduced to nothing, Derek saw a silhouette slipping past the gap of the dingy entrance to the factory.

Temples called out to its direction, "You're late, Ghost."

The silhouette sauntered closer in the dark—proving claim to its name—before arising in the light like a doomsday's salvation.

"Patience is a virtue, Jimmy," you said in a tantalizing sneer.

Inside his chest, Derek's heart ceased to function.

From where you stood, your eyes had caught sight of him, too. Derek saw the flicker of recognition in them, maybe a little something more as well, but you schooled your expression faster than a blink of an eye.

"There was urgent business to take care of," you added.

Agent Temples hummed in interest. "Possible lead?"

"Debatable." You shoved your hands inside the pockets of your jacket. A casual gesture to the untrained eye, but the profiler in Derek knew it was an attempt to hide. From him, maybe. "I need more time to confirm."

"You do that. Meanwhile, there's someone you should meet. Agent Morgan, this is Ghost, our UC."

Temples proceeded to say your real name to Derek. As if he didn't already know it. As if the name hadn't haunted him every day and night for nearly the past five years.

"And Ghost, this is—"

"SSA Derek Morgan." For the first time since you walked in, your attention finally meandered his way. Derek burned under your blatant perusal. "Behavioral Analysis Unit. FBI."

Temples' surprise was glaring. "You know each other?"

"We did," Derek spat.

You appeared bemused at Derek's callous display. He, on the other hand, didn't find the whole thing amusing at all.

"We do," you eventually said.

Temples didn't seem to notice the existing tension in the air. If he did, he chose to say nothing. "This is great news! You guys know each other, so you can get everything settled yourselves." By a miraculous coincidence, Temples' phone started to ring. "Now, excuse me for a moment."

You waited until Temples was out of earshot before addressing Derek, "Fancy seeing you here."

"Yeah. I wish I could say the same."

You smiled somewhat sadly at the taste of venom in Derek's voice. The damp and moldy air in the forgotten factory stood no chance against the sting of Derek's cold glare. It was easy for your body to ignore the chill, pretending that Derek's indifference didn't bite through your skin. Your heart, though, was a different story.

"I didn't know it was gonna be you," was what you ended up saying after a full minute of silence. "When Jimmy told me that someone would be coming in, he didn't tell me anything else. I wasn't expecting you."

It was the most sincere string of words you had uttered since showing up in front of him. For a moment, something twitched in his chest, and Derek loathed the fact that you still had that effect on him even after years had passed. But as frustrating as it was, Derek didn't think petty would suit him well as a middle name, so he swallowed the bitter lump and forced his shoulders to relax.

"So, this is where you've been all this time? Living as a ghost?"

Derek's passing jab at your nickname didn't go unnoticed even if you chose to pay no heed to it. "I met Jimmy on a case, back when I was still with the bureau. He offered me the job."

"Is that why you ran?" Derek pretended not to see you flinch. "Or did you go to ATF because you ran?"

"You know I've always wanted to go under."

"As if you couldn't do that in the bureau."

"In the bureau? Yeah, maybe. But do you really think I could've done it back when I still had my old life?"

Derek bit his tongue. There was no mistaking what you meant by that.

Do you really think I could've done it back when I was still with you?

Something was boiling in the pit of Derek's stomach. He recognized it from those few months following your sudden departure from his life. Before tonight, Derek thought the wound you administered had scabbed over with time. But one encounter with you, and now those scars were opening up and bleeding again, all over the place.

"You used to say people who run are cowards."

Your head whipped towards him. In the darkness, Derek could still see the brush of disbelief across your face. He wondered, then, what had you looking so taken off guard. Was it the fact that Derek still remembered something you had said to him many moons ago?

In the end, your response was to avert your gaze from his face.

"Well," you began, "maybe I am one."

Thunders were feuding inside your chest. They squeezed around your heart like a garrote, making you gasp for air until you forgot how to breathe properly without doing so.

A few seconds later, you finally completed the fifth and final round of your torture.

"Time!" Derek called out as soon as you passed the finish line. "Four seconds faster than your last. Not bad."

Your heart was still galloping at a thousand miles per minute. The voice that rose when you spoke up resembled a choking fish out of water more than anything else.

"Not bad, but not good?"

"I think you can do better."

A sarcastic chuckle rumbled from your chest. "Any faster than that, Derek, and I might die."

"Don't deny your potential before it becomes real. You're so much more capable than you allow yourself to believe." Derek grabbed a bottle of water that he had prepared for you. "Here."

You accepted it with a quick thanks. "I've always hated running. It's something that cowards do."

"That's an extreme notion to have."

"Well, my family had a tendency to do it, and all of them are cowards," you said nonchalantly, a stark contrast to the weight carried by your choice of words. "My mom ran every time my dad beat my brother and I to the brink of death, and Dad ran when the police finally got on his ass about it."

Derek visibly softened after hearing your rancorous confession. "Your mother's still calling?"

The bitter scowl on your face was enough confirmation for him.

The first phone call arrived around four months ago. You had dropped the call as soon as you realized who was on the other end of the line, after which your mother resorted to leaving you an abundance of voice messages instead. All of them were deleted without a listen, and you found yourself blocking every incoming call from an unknown number just for the tiniest bit of chance that it might be from her.

Exactly a month ago, your mother suddenly showed up on your doorstep.

It was already alarming when you realized that she had somehow gotten a hold of your contact information. To then find her in front of your home was worse. You nearly didn't recognize her when you first opened the door; not with her thinner cheeks and sunken eyes. She looked nothing like the woman you remembered from the routine nightmares, but the shadow of terror in her eyes was one you knew quite well.

"It's good to see you," she had said after begging you not to slam the door in her face. "You look great. Healthy."

"Considering the last time you saw me, I was drenched in my own blood, I'd say that's an understatement."

She physically winced at your reply. "I paid your brother a visit before coming down here. Can we go inside?"

"No." You closed the door behind your back, pressing yourself like a royal guard against it. "Whatever you want to say, we can discuss it here."

The woman whom you once called mother darted her eyes everywhere. At last, she settled on pinning her gaze towards a point right beside your ear. "I just wanted to see how you were doing."

You scoffed. "Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"What? No—"

"Do you need money? Is that it?"

A look of offense scampered by your mother's face. "Is a mother not allowed to ever see her child?"

"If I had a mother, then sure, she could see me. You're just a woman who stood by for years while I was bruised and battered every single day of my childhood." Tears had started to stream down her face, but it did nothing for you. It wasn't like she was ever affected by your desperate wails and cries when you were little, anyway. "I never hope to see you here again. If you keep coming, I'll be contacting the police."

You had slammed the door on her face after that, and thankfully, her phone calls and messages promptly stopped, too.

Until last week.

"She's sending text messages this time," you eventually said.

Upon hearing your answer, Derek gestured towards the bleachers behind him. You sighed loudly, albeit still obliging his silent request as you took a seat on the second lowest bench. Almost the entire track field was in your line of sight from where you sat. In the distance, you could see young cadets from the Academy training together. The scene brought a smile to your face. It reminded you of memories from a lifetime ago.

When Derek sat down, he didn't leave any gap between the two of you, pressing your sweaty thigh with his toned one.

"What are you planning to do?" Derek asked.

You opted to chug the rest of your water instead of replying.

"You threatened to report her to the police last time. You can choose to make true of that promise. Maybe it'll force her to stop for good."

"Or?"

"Or—" Derek glanced at you, his eyes sincere and not at all captious as he spoke, "—you can choose to try hearing her out."

Your face contorted into a grimace. "Are those two my only options?"

"Your third option is to do nothing and let her keep stalking you. Possibly until the aliens decide to invade the earth, sending humanity into extinction."

"Hm." You dropped your forehead on Derek's shoulder. "That sounds tempting."

You shut your eyes against the soft material of Derek's T-shirt. The smell of his detergent mixed with Derek's natural musk served as an anchor for the adrift ship of which you were the captain. Derek's presence was always a reprieve in your otherwise bleak life. Derek was comfortable. He was your safe haven.

"I know I have no right to speak about this, but I think it needs to be said," the man added.

You lifted your head to stare into Derek's eyes, the same ones who had crowned you as their sole center at that moment. His hand was warm as it crept towards the nape of your neck.

"Take it from someone who lost one of his parents at a very young age. You will end up regretting the things you didn't do a tenfold more than the things you did do." Derek's thumb swept over your eyebrows, smoothing out the creases until you were pliant underneath his touch. "I'm in no way saying that my situation is comparable to yours. I will never understand what you went through with your family. All I know is, I don't want you to wake up one day with any remorse about the past."

Derek's advice was sealed with three gentle kisses: one to your forehead, one to the tip of your nose, and one to your lips. You left one of your own on his jawline for good measure before burrowing yourself further into his side.

"I hate it when you're right," you grumbled.

"That kinda sucks, considering that I'm right all the time."

"Yeah, you are." You hid your smile on his shoulder. "Which is why I really hate you."

Less than two minutes later, Agent Temples re-emerged from the dark.

"Sorry about that, folks. What'd I miss? Have you two walked through everything?"

"Actually," you began, "we haven't even started yet."

"We got caught up... reminiscing about the past," Derek fabricated smoothly.

Temples didn't seem to detect the lie as he said, "Alright. We can go through it now. Ghost, you wanna start us off?"

You spontaneously stretched to your full height underneath the newfound attention. "I've been planting the seeds for months now. Hopefully, no one gets suspicious whenever Morgan decides to come in."

"What's the story?" Derek asked.

"You're a friend of my brother's. I've known you my whole life," you replied. "I orchestrated a malfunction in one of the orders a few months ago. We've been looking for an explosives expert ever since. That's you."

"And you're sure it's solid?"

"It's a perfect cover considering your time in the bomb squad. Just in case, though, Jimmy will handle your background." Your eyes flitted towards Temples, who nodded in confirmation of your statement. "By the time it's done, you can say goodbye to SSA Derek Morgan from the FBI. It'll look legit."

"Don't worry." Temples patted Derek's shoulder. "You're in the right hands."

"What about you?" Derek asked again.

You tilted your head curiously. "What about me?"

"What's the story you told them? Nothing good about a solid cover if yours isn't just as sturdy."

You squinted your eyes at Derek's strange question. It sounded, somehow, like he was questioning your work for the last four years, as though he only came up with it as an absurd act of retribution for something that could now be declared as history.

Or, perhaps, you were the one being paranoid because of your past mistake.

After all, you still didn't know how to move on from the guilt even to this day.

Before you could come up with an apt answer, Temples suddenly beat you to it, "You don't need to worry about that. Nobody dares to question Ghost. The Big Boss is sweet on her."

"Jimmy."

"The Big Boss?" Derek's glare pierced right through you. "You mean Kreczmar?"

"What can I say? Ghost is an expert when it comes to fraternizing with the enemy."

Temples could be a sleazy bastard sometimes, and right now, you wished you could punch that toothy grin straight off his face.

"Aleksander Kreczmar is an assignment. A means to an end. Nothing more, nothing less."

You didn't understand why your eyes blithered towards Derek as you made that proclamation. The way he was studying you, though, made you feel like a cell under a microscope. A small part of your brain had fleetingly assumed that it might be jealousy, but you pushed the hope away before it could sediment further into a foolish delusion.

"This changes things," Derek said out of the blue. "The fact that you're in a relationship with him—"

"I'm not in a rela—"

"—would never make him approve of me. He's a man with an ego. He's not gonna like his woman bringing in some guy she knew from the past."

The objection died in your throat.

Derek was making a lot of sense.

"You're the profiler," you shot a little too sourly. "What do you suggest, then?"

"Simple." Derek smirked, a picture of smugness and spite as he looked at you. "I'll tell him I'm in it for the money."

Derek pulled out with a hiss, immediately missing the warmth he had been enfolded in just a few seconds prior. He peeled off the condom before tying it securely, throwing it straight into the garbage can in the corner.

"Why did you decide to join the FBI?"

Your question brought out a laughter deep from Derek's chest. His eyes took in the view of your exposed upper body, mirroring his own state of undress, while your body's other half was covered haphazardly by the flimsy material of Derek's sheets.

If he didn't know any better, Derek would be wondering how you still managed to stay lucid even after the hours the two of you spent on his bed, and a few more hours around various corners of his home. But Derek could read you better than most people by now, and he could distinguish the sign of post-coital bliss glistening over your irises. Underneath the gentle glow of his bedside table lamp, you were a sight for sore eyes.

"Why do you ask the most random questions after sex?"

"Because people are usually more honest after sex."

"And you know this, how?"

"I read it." You slithered into a new position as you responded, flumping on your stomach with your chin pressing on Derek's abs. He looked down at you in wonder. "Your brain gets drowned in oxytocin every time you cum. The love hormone, people call it. Oxytocin promotes the feeling of trust, hence the truth bomb."

"Hm. You sounded like Reid just now."

"Why do you know what Spencer sounds like after sex?"

Derek grabbed a handful of your ass, squeezing until you squealed at him for mercy.

"I think I was always destined to follow in my father's footsteps," Derek replied at last. "I picked law in college 'cause it made sense. Joined Chicago PD 'cause I felt like it was up to me to continue the job my father couldn't finish."

"And the FBI?"

"It was my first experience of staring evil right in the eye," Derek said. "The first time I truly felt scared on the job was back in the bomb squad. I got tired of having my life taunted by a bunch of scrap metals. Joining the bureau gave me the chance to stare directly at the people responsible for these crimes."

"You want to challenge them to their faces," you concluded.

"Exactly. I wanted to put a face on the crimes. When I realized that these people were just a bunch of fucked-up morons and sick-minded souls, going up against them wasn't as frightening anymore."

Derek's gaze roved over the entire ceiling as he spoke. His fingers on your shoulder drew abstract patterns that triggered an expanse of goosebumps on your skin. The alarm clock on the bedside table mocked you from the corner of your eye. Its little hands were swords, threatening you with the knowledge that you had to be up and out of Derek's place in just five short hours.

Your stomach churned at the thought.

"What about you? Why did you join the FBI?"

The question arrived as a welcomed distraction. It provided you with an excuse to push the thought of your inevitable flight to the back of your head.

"Do you want the honest answer or the default answer?"

Derek looked down at you in amusement. "There are two different answers?"

"Yes. Now pick one."

"The honest one."

"Is it cliché if I say it's because of my parents?"

Derek knew your question was more rhetoric than inquisitive, so he settled with squeezing your hip instead of a literal response.

"The worst thing about that part of my life isn't the memories, nor the nightmares. It's not even about the scars. It's the fear." A shiver ran down your entire body. For a second, Derek thought he had set the AC temperature too cold until he realized he hadn't even turned it on yet. "I knew if they placed me in front of my father again, I would crumble like nothing. I didn't want that. Couldn't accept that. So, I trained myself to stop being afraid in the face of atrocities."

As you finished your explanation, Derek couldn't help but think about how similar the two of you were in a lot of ways. His mind went back to a memory from years ago, back when you were still in the Academy, and back to the first time the both of you had ever met.

"What's your greatest fear?" Derek had asked that question in front of the room full of trainees back then.

Shouts of dying, height, and even my mom filled the air. Derek remembered scanning the crowd of faces in the midst of all of those answers before his eyes had fatedly landed on you.

"You." Your surprise was conspicuous as Derek's finger aimed towards you. "What's your greatest fear?"

"Fear."

"Yeah, what is it?"

"No, I meant that's my answer. Fear. Being afraid. That's what I fear the most."

You might not have been the first person he noticed in that gym full of people, but you were definitely the one who managed to stay on his mind.

After all, he had given the same answer when his trainer asked him the same question back during his time at the Academy.

"That was the honest answer," Derek noted after a lengthy silence had passed. "What's the default one?"

"It's the one I tell people," you responded with a brilliant smile thrown his way. Derek tried not to read too much over the implications that you had excluded him from the word people.

"Which is?"

"That I'm in it for the money."

"Hey." Temples' voice echoed inside the vast space of the factory. "I heard that one before. Didn't you use to say it all the time, Ghost? I didn't think much when you folks said you knew each other, but looks like you know one another quite well."

"I hardly think it's an appropriate time to discuss this, Jimmy."

"Right. My apologies. You have anything else, Ghost?"

Temples' question was a relief for your anxious bones. It gave you the chance to maneuver the conversation towards a more purposeful direction.

"Do you have a working profile for your UnSub?"

Derek studied you for a moment before replying, "We don't have much to work with. All we know is they operate on a network that spans throughout the entire country. It's run by a much smaller group. No greater than ten, most likely fewer than five. We flagged some human trafficking activities we thought could be related to them."

"They contacted me when they found out we have an active op on Kreczmar," Temples explained.

"You do know that we haven't uncovered any conclusive evidence for the trafficking allegations, right?"

During the four years you spent infiltrating Aleksander Kreczmar's empire, you had crawled, climbed, and sprinted your way up to the top. It was arduous work, one that required you to sacrifice a lot of things. Your life was one of them. Your dignity was often another.

For four years, you and your team had succeeded in stopping dozens of narcotics deliveries, along with detaining numerous firearms and explosives before they could fall into the wrong hands. You oversaw most of the trades that went through the eastern coast of Kreczmar's territory, but so far, you had never positively identified a single human trafficking activity connected to Kreczmar's ring.

You knew better than to perceive the lack of evidence as proof of innocence, though. That word didn't fit in any dictionary of a man such as Kreczmar.

"The profile fits," Derek declared. "Kreczmar's routes coincide with the syndicate's hot zones."

"That's a lot of areas to cover, Derek."

"Which is why we start here, at the heart of his operation. Which is why we need you."

That one sentence didn't have any business messing with every neuron in your brain, and you hated the fact that it did. Derek was the only person in the world who possessed that kind of power over you, and you couldn't help wondering if he did it on purpose just for the satisfaction of seeing you wither.

"You're putting a lot of faith in me, Derek."

"I've always had that for you."

The surrounding air seared where it touched your skin. Your tongue stiffened like metal inside your mouth, and beside you, Temples looked as if he was just now noticing the electric field buzzing between you and Derek.

"I need to get going," you rushed out. "People are expecting me."

"Oh? Of course. Thanks for making the time, Ghost," Temples said before bidding you goodbye.

You could barely look Derek in the eye as you offered a lame wave. Your shoes composed a scratchy melody against the ground. As you reached the exit, your eyes caught Derek's from the distance, and suddenly, you were hauled back towards the night that had gnawed at your memories for the past five years.

And just like that night, this time, you were running away from him once again.

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