#was piecing that bitch up and now shes trying to bargain

[toriliashine]

[cherryrainn]

ECLIPSED .

; pairing ; adam x sinner! reader

; note ; request i got on wattpad!

; warnings ; none

adam kicked back, watching the chaos unfold in hell from his lofty perch in heaven. it was like a twisted reality show, and he reveled in the spectacle of sinners tearing each other apart.

"get 'em, you filthy bastards!" he shouted, a wicked grin spreading across his face as the damned souls clashed in a violent dance of destruction. it was a symphony of chaos that resonated with the delight in his secretly twisted heart.

then, his gaze fixated on a particularly alluring sinner, you, who moved with a sinful grace. "damn, look at that hot piece of ass!" adam exclaimed, his eyes widening with carnal desire.

lute, who was standing next to him, dared to interrupt his reverie. "sir, what are you talking about?"

adam shot her an irritated look. "fuck you, bitch! can't you see i'm busy? get the fuck outta here!" he growled, waving her away.

lute rolled her eyes, muttering to herself as she retreated. "yes, sir. have your fun."

adam, still fixated on the enticing sinner, decided to kick things up a notch. with a snap of his fingers, he made whatever ethereal device he was using to watch hell follow the sinner, who happened to be you, into your home.

through a portal, adam descended into the depths of hell, ready to make a surprise entrance. as he materialized in your home, you were taken aback, thinking the extermination had started early.

"what the heck?!" you exclaimed, eyes wide with shock as you took in the unexpected intrusion. "is it over for me already?"

but adam, grinning with delight, reassured you, "fuck no!"

you eyed him cautiously, wondering what the hell was happening. "who are you, and how'd you get in here?"

adam's expression shifted, a mix of surprise and indignation crossing his features. "what the fuck do you mean, 'who am I'?" he retorted, his voice laced with offended arrogance. "i'm adam? the first fucking man? the big fucking cheese up in heaven! how do you not know who i am?"

you blinked, taken aback by his sudden outburst. "uh, sorry." you replied, trying to diffuse the tension.

adam scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. "un-fucking-believable. you sinners don't know shit," he muttered under his breath, his ego bruised by your apparent ignorance.

you eyed adam cautiously, still trying to process the fact that the first man was standing in your living room. "anyway! you're hot!" he declared, his arrogance undeterred by your confusion.

"what?" you stammered, genuinely bewildered by the sudden change in tone.

adam leaned against your furniture, a smug grin on his face. "you heard me."

your skepticism was palpable. "are you even allowed here? aren't there like, rules?" you asked, your voice tinged with both caution and curiosity.

adam waved off your concern with a dismissive smirk. "rules? fuck the rules. i do what i want."

you furrowed your brows. "but, like, isn't that against the... heavenly code or... something?"

he groaned. "who gives a shit!? i'm here for a good time, not a long time."

and so began the surreptitious rendezvous between an angel and a sinner. during exterminations, adam would sneak away from his duties just to see you. you'd usually be hiding, fearing the consequences of being caught, but adam would always find you.

"chill out, y/n! it's just you and me," he'd whisper, his cocky grin never fading.

and against all odds, love began to take root, wrapping its tendrils around both celestial and damned hearts. It wasn't just a desire – it was a connection that ran deeper than the realms they inhabited.

yet, adam couldn't shake the knowledge that being in love with a sinner was wrong. he had entered your world just wanting to fuck around with some hot piece of shit, a way to spice up his boredom. but now, he found himself entangled in emotions he hadn't bargained for.

he was confused, he wanted to protect you..? to shield you from the eternal damnation that loomed over your head? 

he didn't just wanna fuck around with you – he wanted something more. he wanted you, all of you, body and soul. he wanted to be with you, to stand by your side against the forces that sought to tear you apart

and then, one fateful day, as he lounged in your humble abode, a sudden epiphany struck him like a bolt of lightning. 

"i wanna get you into heaven," he declared, his voice tinged with a newfound determination. "i don't give two shits about the rules anymore. maybe it's time for heaven to change."

[journeyintofiction]

Request from anon: Overprotective Shuri where the reader gets kidnapped by Namor

Happy reading :)

I wake up with my head throbbing, my vision blurry, and confused. I try to sit up but feel a searing pain on my right side and crane my head down to see my shirt soaked in blood, and my arms were scratched. In trying to move back to my original position I groaned in pain, which alerted my captor to my sudden awareness.

“Well, well it is about time you woke from your little… nap”, I didn’t need to look over to know who was speaking. Yet upon looking at him I see him playing a game similar to chess by himself.

“Namor”, I say in a bored tone.

He looks at me carefully as if deciding how to approach me without having me lash out in response. “I am not intending on harming you, but your princess-”

I cut him off, “my queen.”

He smirks and continues, “... your queen has not granted me an audience after several attempts to set up a time. Our alliance is new and I am not pleased at the lack of responsiveness on Wakandas part.”

I scoff and turn my head away from him to look off into the distance before saying, “ Do you expect her to be chomping at the bit to see you? After all that has been done, after all YOU have done to her?” I chuckle and turn back to stare at him, “you have no shame.”

At my last comment he looked irritated and replied “An alliance is an alliance, both sides must uphold their end of the bargain regardless of the past discretion.” He shrugged his shoulders as if he was completely unbothered by all the death he caused. “What is it you surface dwellers say? “An eye for an eye.” You killed mine and I returned the favor.”

I look at him hard, “An eye for an eye and the whole world goes blind.”

He looks away from me at that and realizes the chess piece most akin to a king has been backed into a corner. I take the opportunity to rub in his loss, “It seems you have backed yourself into a corner in your game, just as you have with the queen.”

He doesn’t respond verbally but just grunts.

I turn away once more and giggle to myself at the irony. Checkmate bitch.

In Wakanda

“Where IS she Griot?” came the frustrated voice of the queen. After having her entire personal circle search the palace, the market, and the city for Y/N, she was beginning to get agitated.

“She appears to be in Talokan and seems stable with minor injuries”, Griot replies.

Shuri remains unresponsive for a moment, “So Namor took her to Talokan as a pawn for me to come and speak with him?”

Nakia is the first to respond, “it would seem so, but I advise we act fast because Y/N has minor injuries now. However, those minor injuries will turn into serious injuries the longer it isn’t treated.” Everyone collectively hums in agreement and begins a plan of action meanwhile, Shuri is quiet and unmoving.

“I will go and get her immediately.” Shuri says as she turns around to suit up.

“My queen I don't think-” Okoye begins but is abruptly cut off by Shuri.

“Okoye, he has been denied my audience and resorted to drastic measures which will cause tensions to run higher than they already are. I think it is best that I go there alone.”

After mulling it over Nakia and Okoye agree and stress that Shuri must be careful. After agreeing with them, Shuri takes her leave and makes her way to the ocean shore line. As she walked there she kept repeating the mantra in her head that y/n is fine and will be in her arms tonight.

In Talokan

Apparently after sitting for hours the blood loss finally took a toll and I passed out, only to be violently woken by yelling. I quickly open my eyes and try to orient myself which is hard given the blood loss and general fatigue. Before I have the chance to properly see anything I hear Shuri call out “Y/N!”

My vision clears and I see Namor and Shuri glaring at each other and it was obvious they had exchanged words prior to me waking up. As I tried to get up I collapsed and nearly face planted, if it hadn’t been for Shuri being a few feet away to catch me.

“What did you do to her?” Shuri yells in anger at seeing me so drained and weak.

“We did what was necessary to get your attention, we took her but she was quite the fighter and refused to come quietly” Namor replied with a shrug.

Shuri looks at him with disdain, “So you beat my partner into submission?Are you asking for another war?”

At that Namor looks startled and looks at the two of us sharply and replies while pointing at me, “you would start a war for her”.

“She is my partner, who I intend on making my spouse, you would be an idiot to think I wouldn't raise hell for her.”

Before he can reply, I feel Shuri start moving and I see we are moving to the exit of the cave before I pass out once more.

In Wakanda

I wake to the sound of steady beeping and the faint smell incense burning. I turn my head and I am immediately hit with pain at the movement and moan.

I hear someone rush over to me and gently move my head back to a more neutral position. I squint my eyes open and see Okoye standing over me and Nakia sitting up in the chair beside my bed. Okoye and Nakia look worried, tired, and stressed.

“How do you feel? Are you in pain anywhere?” Okoye quickly asked before I could say anything.

I nod, “my head hurts and my side is throbbing.”

“You had a concussion and multiple lacerations on your right side” Okoye responded sounding upset.

All the events of the last 24 hours came flooding back and I remember my injuries, where I was taken, who took me, and getting rescued. But, anything after leaving that cave is a blank hole in my memory.

“What happened after Shuri came and got me?”

Nakia is the first to respond, “due to blood loss from your untreated injuries you passed out on the way here. Shuri took you to the lab and the three of us helped patch you up”.

“Where is she now?” I ask confused at her not being here.

“She stepped out a few minutes before you woke up to get food for you because Griot said you should wake up within the hour” Okoye stated with a small smile.

They still looked quite upset at the state I was in so I tried to cheer them up. “Don’t look so down guys, I’m a little beat up but I’m not dead…yet.”

They look at each other then look at me with an eyebrow raised and the three of us quietly chuckle.

“Has she woken yet-“ Shuri asks as she makes her way down the stairs. Her sentence dies off when she sees the three of us staring at her.

Okoye and Nakia mention they are required elsewhere and leave us alone to speak. After the door softly clicks shut she walks over to me takes my hand and looks like she is gonna cry.

“My love I’m fine, just a little worse for wear” I say and try to smile.

She shakes her head and quietly says “He took you from me as a way to get what he wanted. I promised to protect and be there for you and you were stolen right from our borders.”

“Well I’m fine now and I know he won’t try this again given that you both seemed to come to an agreement, albeit a tense one.”

She nods apprehensively and intertwines our fingers with her thumb rubbing circles on my hand. “I am NEVER letting you go any without me ever again.”

I roll my eyes at the proclamation and give an exasperated sigh, “what ever makes you feel better…wait, does that mean we shower together too?”

Shuri face palms, “good grief woman, why is your head always in the gutter.”

Note: to the Anon who requested this, I’m so sorry it took me a few days to complete it. I have finals coming up so I have been busy, but please send in more requests and I will get them done as soon as I can :)

[danwhobrowses]

One Piece Chapter 1100 - Initial Thoughts

Nearly 3 years ago we sat and marveled at the beginning of Roof Piece

1000 Chapters, and now it's 1100

The Kuma backstory continues though, so we'll see what more the story offers, and if there's any bombshells to drop during it.

Spoilers for the Chapter, Support the Official Release

Nice little cover page, Usopp remembering his old crew from Syrup Village as Sanji chopped up their namesakes

But also why have a bunny you literally have a rabbit character also named Carrot Oda -_-

This time we pick up with Kizaru visiting Lab 08, still in his mafia era he was in when he kicked Arlong to the curb

Kizaru complaining how it's super cold compared to Punk Hazard I mean you're half right in hindsight

It seems that Vegapunk was so brimming with ideas that he missed a Den Den Mushi, which caught wind of his dealings with pirates

A navy battleship awaits outside, with a younger X-Drake also in waiting (is he alive? We've not heard from him since Onigashima)

Kuma had 296 million berry as a bounty, kinda low all things considered

Saturn on the Den Den Mushi reprimands Vegapunk, noting that they can't make a pirate the face of the clone army

So he only agrees to it under three terms; firstly, he must become a Warlord

Huh, seems that the vacancy Kuma filled was due to Ace defeating a Warlord, interesting

The Second term is to undergo body modifications as well, in order to become a human weapon

There is the inverted purpose said plainly from last chapter, the Pacifista intended to be a force of peace while Saturn wishes to make Kuma a 'paragon of fear'

'We are well aware of your history with the Revolutionary army' BITCH YOU FOUGHT HIM AS A CHILD SLAVE AT GOD VALLEY DON'T ACT COY

But Saturn is playing politics, and he wants assurances that Kuma won't turn on the government for the army (aha whoops)

And term number 3: he must agree to give up his free will and individuality

Vegapunk is immediately and staunchly against this, man's literally seething at the idea that they request to effectively kill him, to lobotomize Kuma's humanity in favour of weaponry

Saturn acting like this is all to pay for stem cell treatment as if he's not already gonna get a clone army out of his genetics

Still, Kuma's fatal flaw is still exposed, he's good, too good for his own good

He agrees to the terms, anything to save Bonney

It'll take six months to perform this oh so expensive surgery, and a year of therapy before she can go into sunlight

On the other hand removing a man's entire humanity will take two years, but nobody's asking about the cost there

Oh fuck this guy even more now, after all those terms now he wants more?

Since Bonney is their 'only leverage' (I would bet he knows exactly where Bonney came from) he wants even more assurances that Kuma won't run before his modifications are complete

So in the year and a half her treatment's complete, Bonney is put under navy custody, and Kuma can't see her until his mind is erased

Effectively they won't even let the man see his daughter once she's cured

And any show of defiance will be treated as voiding the bargain, and Bonney will be thrown into slavery (man definitely fucking knows where Bonney came from, he knows what happened with Ginny)

Kuma of course agrees, but requests that Bonney not be told of the procedure or the observation, she will return to Sorbet to recover

For the next six months, Kuma and Bonney live in Lab 08 with Vegapunk and Sentomaru, Kuma pretending that the doctors are checking up on him for a separate illness

Early signs of Vegapunk's struggles without his split bodies, as he laments not having more of himself

Kuma continues modification, all while Bonney undergoes treatment and Lab 08 starts to grow more into Egghead

Also Kizaru joins in for giant pizzas

They all dance to the tune of Nika, puts Kizaru's reluctance into more perspective, and yet he still went through with trying to kill them

The Surgery is a success, but there's still the year of therapy to deal with

Bonney still has some scales over her eyes too, not yet replaced by the piercing

Bonney is returned to Sorbet, greeted by the people and Conney, who is more than happy to watch over Bonney again

Kuma uses his piracy to explain to Bonney why he'll be away for so long, but promises to write to her

'The next I see you, we'll both be able to sail the seas and reach the horizon' - aaaaaand it's sad again

'Doctors' arrive too, as part of the WG's observation

Including 'Alpha' or 'Alufa' a nurse of CP8 who is probably Kalifa

Wasting no time policing the visitation times with Bonney too

Threatening a child with a smile on your face? Nami should kick her ass again

Kuma leaves to become the warlord we know today

And that means a reaction from the other warlords

Sugar tells Doflamingo, who seems excited by the prospect of another 'villain'

It's been over 3 months and we finally see Nico Robin, the flashback Miss All Sunday version at least, I need to know if present day Robin is okay though

Future Yonko Commander Crocodile meanwhile doesn't care, more concerned with the people who spotted his rainmaking ship as part of the Alabasta plot

Mihawk, reacts as Mihawk does

Also pre-Luffy Koby reaction, bullied by Alvida into saying she's stronger than him

And Ace! Jinbe is hanging with Whitebeard with the news

Blackbeard can fuck off though but Marco can stay

Whitebeard is perplexed by the news it seems, Jinbe meanwhile wonders about the change in the world

Boa doesn't care either way, neither does Moria who downplays him despite Perona noting he has to be strong

The Revolutionaries react also, Sabo and Koala are shocked, but Dragon remains pensive, probably aware of what went down, and how he likely sent Kuma to this fate

He uses Bonney's drawing of him on his sail!

True to his word he does write to Bonney, telling her he's trying to find the best destinations to take her when she's 10

The Government give him orders as he makes port in a familiar village

A young unbeknownst god runs away from an angered tiger, as Bartholomew Kuma ends up in Foosha village

We knew it had to get sad again but still, there's more twisting in this knife.

I can see if people feel a little underwhelmed by this chapter though, given how 1000 was the prelude of some amazing action and catharsis 1100 did just feel like a continuation, I think some people were also expecting to return to present day a bit.

I don't mind too much, I felt like we still had to cover Kuma becoming a warlord, the rage in my blood boils over with Saturn though, he knew he could take everything from Kuma he couldn't take from him before. Bonney will reach 10 and for 2 years after that sail the seas allegedly 'free' but without her father, promises people have prohibited from being kept.

I said it before and I said it again, there needs to be a happy ending for Kuma and Bonney some way. I'm still thinking S-Bear right now as Kuma's main body keeps being broken down. It also feels like Saturn wanted failsafes in Kuma's modification too, I need Kuma to be part of the reason Saturn's taken down, he deserves to smack that spider-legged c*nt square in the face. I also feel like we're seeing reason for Vegapunk to be unable to become a straw hat, without his other bodies and the droves of assistants and resources to get all his ideas out he would be pretty insufferable. I know some people also want Bonney but I'd sooner see her happy with her father, plus Sanji already has to cook for at least 10 times his crew's actual size adding Bonney will make that number even greater.

Outside of that it was nice to see some old faces, wonder who the warlord Ace beat was, but now curiosity deepens over Kuma being in Foosha. I mean he has orders so maybe he sails away, just missing the latest host of the being he hoped to be like, but it'd also be interesting if he met Luffy before Sabaody (since he was unconscious for Thriller Bark).

A cover and colorspread awaits us next week, does Oda invite more pain, or is there a hidden solution that will finally start to take shape?

[boyakishantriage]

"... what make you think I wanna bargain with you?"

"... What."

"Quit this-"

"Farce?"

"..."

"I'm quite serious. Why should I want to bargain with you?"

She stood, body stuck between the large being's claws.

I had no idea where the fuck I was. Best I could guess, some kind of void. But it has a floor, of some sort. Fragments of the flooring, walls, a whole lotta pieces that my brain gave up trying to constantly match making everything the generic white. Occasionally I'd randomly see bits of real stuff, but it was mostly white.

The giant. Thing's head cocked. Looked down at myself.

"I am not some demon."

"nope. You just look like a danger noodle."

"... Pardon?"

"Danger noodle. Hides in rocks, likes warm things. Y'know?"

"... Do you mean snakes?"

"Danger noodle."

It reshaped, matter shrinking and forming, some kind of shapeshifting maybe. Or more accurately, folding parts... Huh. I guess it was a higher dimensional being. The enormous dragonic shape, what probably was its claw retracted as what looked to be a dark haired Greek stood before me.

She looked up (down?). The claw's tip remained, somewhere.

"So you're human?"

"Last I checked."

"... So what are you doing here?"

"Good question. I don't know."

It tilted its head, the body looking at the human as it raised a question.

"so is this body like. A puppet, marionette doll? Or is it more of a projection over your real self?"

"You're a inquisitive little thing."

"Only way I've lived this long."

"cocky thing. I ought to keep you."

"I ain't owned by no bitch."

"... I'm not familiar with that word."

"I'm calling you a slow. Submissive little slut."

"..."

The human held her stare, glaring up directly at his whole body. Outside the third dimension, the body mimicked his laughter. Wiping a tear from his form.

"I like that fire."

"uh huh. You haven't answered my question."

"Alright. It's a projection of sorts I suppose."

"hmm, so what'd happen if I kiss it?"

"hmm?"

The body paused, Leviathan considering the woman's words.

"well I suppose I'd- URK."

Hanging off the side of the Leviathan, small knife held in the leviathan's neck.

"YOU. HOW-"

It seemed to glitched, between the body and it's dragonic like form. Knife pulled out its neck, the human began stabbing the being. Throwing punches and kicks, at some point it raised it's hand to stop her.

And like a feral animal, she bit into the human hand. Growling like a beast. Green tint shining in her eye.

"You're not human."

"VAVAVAVA. RYE. ANG. TUM."

Gripping harder into the flesh, stabbing the knife into the body's head. Whatever counter it'd pull, stopped, the small blade striking through the skull of the body, hiring whatever the equivalent of a brain was. Swerving, the woman began slashing the body's arm off. Shaking her head like and animal, stamping his foot as she began to force the arm to tear.

Blood coated her body, growling like a beat as the leviathan roared. Shouting in pain and fear.

"LET GO. I DON'T WANT TO DIE."

She slammed a fist into his neck, biting into his shoulder as she snapped the body's arm off.

"SHUT- GUP!"

Like a beast, she began beating into the body, slamming into it while shaking her head. Vocal cords connecting his bloody throat to her chewing and sucking body.

It gripped It's body into a fist, slamming into her side. She leg go, laughing, as she stamped his arm. Whatever sense he had in the arm, flared. Now focusing the blade and biting into the arm, smashing into it until it detached. Limp.

It stared, a fraction of itself torn off, her own body bleeding and scarred but...

Her body giggled, growling as it began to heal. His flesh. That. Tam. Greed. A charyeok devouring his flesh as she did turning him into her.

Eyes grown wild, my body laughed.

"Just noticed? Ben a while since we have ever touched Leviathan."

The human's face contorted to confusion, before it wiped off. A hungry grin, as she began to tear flesh off the arm, sucking the blood as she cackled to herself.

Gripping his bloody stump, torn ruthlessly he attempted to ascend. Rise above this third dimension.

Sweat poured down his body. It wasn't working. Why wasn't it working???

Licked clean, blood coating her hands and face she. He? Looked at the leviathan.

"SOMEONE LIKE YOU."

Laughter, cackling into the void. His eyes grew wide. The downturned stare of her past self in the last reset. Trio. Death, king of what he could no think to explain as he stood before a predator.

I twirled knife into hand, running forward at the leviathan. It's eyes wide, summoning a weapon. Didn't matter what that Tam was doing in my body, I'm hungry.

A blade appeared, striking the spear aside, kick throwing him to the ground as she gripped the spear.

"Stabby stick :)"

A cheeky cackle, laughter at her childlike nature as she struck his body. Forcing it onto the floor, his own weapon responding to his flesh.

She tore the leviathan apart, sucking marrow, flesh, with no parasites, microorganisms, raw flesh left plenty to eat.

"URP. AHH. That was a good meal. Wait..."

Blood stained the floor, hands mostly clean of blood, face with flecks of divine blood.

Did I just eat a leviathan?

Holy shit. I just ate a leviathan.

... wait. Wasn't there some story about a blue leviathan having-

"[IDK how to write that], WHAT AND WHERE THE FUCK IS THOUGH?"

"... fuck."

The beast hissed, its claws enveloping you, “Many humans have tried to bargain with me. Some offered gold for their life, others companionship…. even love. What useless thing will you try to offer me for yours?”

[superannuatedseeker]

Tumblr intro post 2024 Edition

Oh hello.  I am Ren.  Cishet, she/her.  This is my tumblr.  It goes all the way back to 2012, but I haven’t really been active on it for several years now.  So time to reintroduce myself to the tumblrverse, I guess, and see if I can generate some social interactions.

So, I turn 61 in a couple of months.  I know, that’s ancient in tumblr years, but I also know there are a few other Gen Xers out there.  I always identify myself as a Mom before anything, even though my daughter @missr3n3 is a grown-ass adult and awesome creator, so check her out.  But I am also Mom by nature, taking care of others, nurturing and encouraging them. Oh!  And I’m a cat-mom to a female ginger named Starlord.

Since the pandemic, I work from home, which is essential since during the dumpster fire of 2020 I suffered a (mild)traumatic brain injury (yeah, mild, she gently shook her head disbelievingly) and if I had to go back to my pre-pandemic routine, well, I couldn’t and I’d be living a very different life.  So let’s get the brain injury out of the way.  It’s one of those invisible disabilities, and I’m quite functional most of the time, but it is still there and it is a bitch.  It limits the amount of energy I have in a day, limits what I can do, where I can go, and even after learning to skillfully manage my life around it for more than three years, I am one bright light or loud sound away from spending a day or more in bed.  Some things can’t be anticipated or worked around, and therefore, have to be endured.  All that said, I try to stay focused on more positive things and not let this become my entire identity.

So what do I do, and why might you, fellow tumblor, be interested in following this here little blog thing?

Crochet – after a nearly three-year break, I have been able to pick up my hook again, and while it can be frustrating and slow-going, I’m quite happy to have it back in my life. This is a pattern by BonnieBayCrochet on Youtube.

Diamond Painting – instead of focusing on things I can’t do any more, I sought to find something I could do and diamond painting is one of these things, so I guess I’ll be posting about those projects, though again they move slowly.

Acrylic Painting – something else I had to take a break from that is still a frustratingly slow process for me.  I am hoping I can build some accountability into this blog by posting any progress I make with it. This is a painting I finished awhile ago. Based on the work of Yobanka Art Paint on Youtube.

And this is the unfinished painting that has been staring me down for the past year. From a tutorial by The Art Sherpa on Youtube.

Television/streaming – I am a fan of Asian dramas, though good ones can be hard to find and subtitles do soak up my available brain juice.  I wish I was enjoying “Mysterious Lotus Casebook” more than I am, given that I finally broke down and I gave iQiYi my $8.99 to see it.  However, I got “War of Faith” in the bargain and after a couple of episodes I’m enjoying it.  I find most American media too much for my brain to take, but there are plenty of vintage dramas on the free streaming platforms.  I am currently working my way through “Have Gun Will Travel” and the original “Dynasty.”

Reading – I used to read – a lot – but I don’t have the concentration for it anymore.  However, when I could, I read a lot of books and I’m happy to comment on them.

Music – this is the thing my brain injury truly robbed me of and the hardest adjustment to make.  I love everything from classical to kpop, though the only group I continue to follow, just to see how my boys are doing, is VIXX.  For now, when I can, I listen to classical guitar pieces played on very low volume, with occasional visits to vintage country music (Waylon Jennings anyone?), when my brain has the capacity.  Favorites have always included Ian Hunter and Van Halen, but rock and pop tend to do my head in, so that is more from memory these days.

Other interests are Buddhist philosophy, cooking, cleaning channels on Youtube, and other people.  That means you!  Yes, you!  I would love to know about your life, your interests, your ups and downs, hopes and dreams.  Unless you’re a bot, or your only interest is porn, or you need my credit card information, or you are a horny old man who thinks this is a dating site.  But I’m a glass-half-full kinda old cat lady, so I prefer to think there are plenty of people out here in Tumbland who are interested in sharing this journey, with a slice of cake and a cup of tea, of course.

[wallflowerimagines]

How would the Lords handle their crush rejecting them? The reason can range from just not returning their feelings to having feelings for someone else to having feelings for one of their SIBLINGS

Ooooooooh. Time for Angst.

Alcina Dimitrescu

Ah.

Alcina doesn't settle for second best, unfortunately.

She's going to try and convince you of how wrong you are, and use every trick in her arsenal. Making you jealous, degrading your choice in perspective partner, showering you in affection, she's not above any of it. Hell, she might even play matchmaker for your crush.

To a certain extent, as long as she can convince you not to choose your crush, she's happy. You don't even have to pick her at the end of the day, she just wants to make sure they are out of your life.

IF it's another Lord, though...

I'm going to be a thousand percent honest, if she likes you and you reject her for a stranger, it would go way better than if you rejected her for a sibling.

She's not Mother Miranda's favorite, and now she's not your favorite either, and it hurts.

She's not going to try and win you over if you chose another Lord. Depending on how close you were beforehand she might even cut you out of her life entirely. If she sees you in public, she'll either ignore you or be so icily civil that it feels like she's disemboweling you with her words.

If the two of you were close friends, there might be a chance for reconciliation, but it's not likely. You would have to put in an obscene amount of effort, and it would still take years before she's even willing to entertain the idea.

(You need to prove that she's still special to you. She needs to feel appreciated, and that her love for you wasn't a waste. If you can manage to do all that, your relationship can recover and your friendship will thrive.)

She's also worse to the sibling who got picked over her, Especially if it's Heisenberg. Their petty squabbling actually turns into heated arguments with Intent To Harm, and she will not hesitate to kill him if he steps on her toes.

Donna Beneviento

Inconsolable.

For Donna to make herself vulnerable enough to confess to you, pour her heart out, and still be rejected?

It hurts. It hurts so much.

She spent all this time and effort trying to be brave, trying to build up just enough courage to make you see how she felt, and it didn't work. You don't love her. It feels like she made a running jump into the void and nobody was there to catch her.

Was it something she did? Was it something she said? Was it Angie? Her scar? Her mutation? Donna wants to know why.

And when she finds out it's someone else? ...She doesn't know how to feel.

Do they know how you take your tea? Donna does! Donna knows your favorite color, and song, and what your dream job is! It's almost like she's bargaining with you. You two are perfect together, she just knows it! Does this stranger even care about you at all?

Eventually, once you start to console her, she settles down a bit. Okay. You don't love her romantically. But you have to promise her that you'll stay in her life, that's the only way she'll accept this.

(She can't lose anyone else)

It doesn't matter if your crush is a stranger or another Lord, Donna watches them like a hawk. She's a little more lenient with her Siblings, of course, but her standards for the relationship are even higher than yours. They have to pass all these small 'tests' to prove that they're worthy of your affection.

If you don't get anything and everything you ask for, your partner is going to have to deal with Donna. If they so much as make you cry, Angie and the rest of Donna's porcelain family are going to shred them to pieces. No questions, no excuses.

Her feelings will probably change to something more familial rather than romantic (she love you too much for you guys to just be friends), but Donna will never stop being crazy protective over you.

Salvatore Moreau

Surprisingly, he has the best initial reaction.

As much as he hoped--As much as he dreamed--that you would love him back, he knew it was never going to happen.

Salvatore is aware that he's a monster, and Beauty and the Beast is just a story. People like you don't fall for things like him, and it's just a fact of life.

He's still devastated, don't get me wrong. But if you reject him because you have feelings for someone else already?

He's a little more understanding.

He would still want to be friends. No matter who you fall for, he wants to be in your life, even if he made the mistake of revealing to you how disgusting his feelings are. If you want him as a friend, he'll be there for you, no questions asked.

If you confess to your crush and it goes well? He's so genuinely happy for you! You deserve every happiness the world has to offer, and your crush would be a fool not to see how much of a gem you are.

He'll also want to know about your relationship, to the point where it's a little bit voyeuristic. But he honestly can't help himself. It's like a movie with his favorite person as the romantic lead, and he can't bring himself to look away.

Just... Don't tell him about your first kiss with your new partner. It's something he built up quite a bit in his head, and he really wanted to experience that with you. He'd spend long nights fantasizing about what your lips might feel like against his, and to hear you gush about that experience with someone else will break his heart all over again.

Moreau would also be happier with the Situation if you told him you were in love with one of his siblings. That means you're part of his family! You're not going to leave the Village! You're going to stick around, and he will still get to see you all the time!

Salvatore isn't going to pine after you until the day he dies--but it's pretty damn close. He's fairly emotionally mature about things like romance, but feelings can't just be turned on and off with the push of a button. Just because you are taken doesn't mean he still doesn't have feelings for you, after all, but he promises you he's going to work through it. Still, please, give him time.

Karl Heisenberg

Magnet Man is ready to murder.

You're HIS crush friend. You're supposed to like him! You guys have so much in common already, why would you spend time with someone else when you could be spending time with Your Friend Heisenberg??

(why don't you like him like he likes you?)

I've said it before, but Heisenberg is bad at processing emotions. He does not know what his own feelings are 99% of the time, and the rest of the time he does not want to acknowledge it. When he finds out you have a crush and it's not him? He practically throws a tantrum. It's frustrating for him too, because he's not even sure why he's so angry.

Especially because you make a point of saying that you still value your friendship with him. He's irreplaceable to you, but only platonically.

And he likes you as a friend. So much. The fact that you want to stick around after he word vomited his tangle of platonic-romantic feelings at you just proves you two are great friends. So why is he STILL so fucking pissed?

He will play the Needy Best Friend card to keep your attention on him as long as possible. Any minor inconvenience he might have is an emergency of the highest caliber, and you HAVE to help him. A part of him hopes the extended exposure will convince you to choose him.

Meanwhile, if your crush is some stranger (and he thinks he can get away with it without hurting you) that person is straight up dead. All tattoos and other identiying marks are removed so you aren't suspicious, and the corpse is used as Lycan fodder. No evidence, no proof, no problem.

If You like one of His Siblings? He does a little more soul searching. He does want you to be happy, and as much as he argues with them, his siblings are just as much Victims of Mother Miranda as he is. They do deserve happy lives (if only to spite that bitch, or at least that's how he rationalizes it to himself).

He'll... probably get over it. Maybe. Someday. But in the meantime, as long as you stick around and promise to spend time with him, it will sting way less.

[digital-corruption]

From Devil's Grasp: Part 3

⚠️ Warning: Mention of drug use

Just as Jake was adjusting my ear piece to make sure it was out of sight, his employer barged into the locker room.

“Time to go, princess,” Nate mocked. “Your chariot awaits.”

“Remember what I said,” Jake whispered to me.

His face was still so close to me that I could feel his breath on my cheek. It sent shivers down my spine. He must’ve noticed my heart racing as he cleared his throat and stepped away.

“Go get started,” Nate handed Jake a small bag containing a couple of pills. Jake glanced over at me awkwardly. “What’s the matter? I need you on top of your game tonight. She needs you on top of your game.”

“Is that a stimulant?” I frowned.

“Hey, there aren’t any anti-doping rules in this game. We take every advantage we can get,” Nate grinned. “Never bothered you before,” he eyed Jake.

“Don’t!” I said without thinking.

“My, my, you two are awfully considerate of each other for strangers,” Nate mused. “I wonder who exactly she was looking for when she came in here tonight. Wouldn’t it be a shock if the person she wanted to find was already in this very building?”

Jake snatched the bag out of Nate's hand, “I wouldn’t know.” He turned and left the room without looking back.

Nate turned to look at me, “Exactly who are you to have him so riled up?”

“I don’t recall my identity being part of our deal,” I put Jake’s jacket on and zipped it up.

“Well it certainly isn’t fair if you got what you wanted already,” Nate frowned.

“Why? I'm holding up my end of the bargain,” I assured him. “Just make sure you hold up yours.”

“Oh you better,” he threatened. “Coal!” A rugged thug entered the room. “Coal will be your chauffeur for tonight.”

I nodded to the man, who just stared back at me. “Charmed, I’m sure.”

“He'll make sure you come back,” Nate explained.

“What do you mean come back? I only agreed to tonight,” I questioned.

“Circumstances have changed,” Nate smirked at me.

“Son of a bitch!” I could hear Jake curse through my comms. I took it that meant he heard the conversation. “Don’t try anything with Coal. He won’t hesitate to kill you if he feels you’re a flight risk.”

“Well now that’s not fair. You expect me to do more for you when you have nothing more to offer me?” I bit my tongue to try to keep my poker face.

“MC! Don’t antagonise him!” Jake pleaded over the comms.

“MC? What a strange name,” Nate grinned at me.

I panicked that he could hear sound coming out of my ear piece, but Nate tapped his ear to indicate he was listening to our channel. He stepped closer to me and reached above my head. I could feel my hairs standing on end as stared into my eyes. He ruffled up my hair and smiled.

“There, much better. Go on,” he gestured towards the door.

“What did he do!?” Jake questioned. “I don’t have eyes in there! What did he do? Did he fucking touch you?”

“Remember manners go a long way,” Nate said as I walked out of the room with Coal leading the way.

Jake was quiet as I was led to their garage, but when I listened close I could hear him breathing heavily in a panic. The night’s adrenaline kept me from thinking too much about the situation I was in, but Jake was spiralling.

“So,” I broke the silence with Coal. “Is Coal your real name or...”

“I is what people get when they on bad list,” Coal replied.

“What?” I did a double take. It was clear he had a few screws missing.

“Like Santa,” Coal added.

I burst out laughing, which was cut off by Coal's annoyed expression. I cleared my throat to regain composure. “So is that one you came up with yourself or...?”

“MC,” Jake groaned.

“I give myself name. It is cool,” he said confidently.

“You know what big guy, yes, it is cool,” I patted his shoulder. He turned his head and glared at my hand as if it had just hit his mom. I pulled my hand quickly, lest it be bitten off.

“It is better name than Red. Color name is stupid,” Coal added.

“Not a fan of Red?” I tilted my head in amusement.

He looked at me as he opened the door to a black SUV. “He is rat. Annoying, squeaky rat. When I was kid, we had no food, only rat,” he smirked at me. “Rat taste good if cooked right.”

“I'll have to take your word for it,” I replied uncomfortably as I got into the SUV.

Coal closed my door swiftly. He stared at me through the glass, unnerving me even further. He grinned at me, exposing his teeth. They seemed like sharper than normal human teeth.

“Is everyone this charming?” I asked Jake quietly as I watched Coal walk around to the other side of the vehicle.

“Is that sarcasm?” he questioned.

“Yes, he's one-part intimidating, one-part psychotic,” I remembered he said he had trouble interpreting emotion from text, but it seemed Jake struggled with verbal communication as well.

“Best not to converse with him. I have never witnessed him have a normal conversation,” Jake remarked. “He acts completely on instinct. I have given up trying to understand him. He has no logic that I can discern.”

“I'm beginning to see why my skills were so needed,” I joked as Coal climbed into the vehicle.

“We could've handled this job without you,” Jake argued.

“Of that, I'm not so sure,” I chuckled.

“Look, we had someone to handle infiltrations,” Jake admitted.

“Had?” I questioned as Coal started the engine.

Jake sighed, “Razor found communication between her and the feds. Coal made her disappear this morning. We were in Nate’s office to discuss how to proceed without her. That’s when you caught his attention.”

“Disappear, how?” I glanced nervously over at Coal who had started us on our trip.

“I don’t know. I just know everyone that disappears is never heard from again. Not even their bodies turn up,” Jake spoke grimly.

“You like music?” Coal reached for the radio and turned it on. The newest Imagine Dragons song was playing and he started to bob his head in time with the music. “Music get me in mood.”

[romancingromanoff]

A Little Bit of Guidance (Alcina Dimitrescu x femme!reader) pt. 1

A less than pleasant shopping experience leads to gay panic and perhaps something more.

Part 2

Author’s Note: I’M BACK BITCHES AND I’M A BIGGER SIMP THAN EVER! I also have lots of new ideas for Marvel content that I can’t wait to share with y’all. Anyway, I don’t know if any of my followers are Resident Evil fans but who doesn’t want to fantasize about a 9′6″ tall vampire mommy?

Two hours. You’d told your best friend that you would begrudgingly let her drag you along to shop for new professional attire for two hours. But now it was six hours later and you were beginning to realize that your plans for an early evening spent decompressing back at your apartment with some takeout had been completely ruined as soon as you’d said “Fine, but only two hours.”

“We wouldn’t still be out here hunting if you would just buy something for once,” she feigned exhaustion as she handed you yet another overpriced blazer which you were too afraid to check the price of. “I mean this is for your job, you have to buy something!”

“Yes, Maia,” you tried your best to sound as patient as possible. The two of you had been best friends since elementary school when you were both the only two Asian students in your class. Even back then she’d been very skilled at getting you to go along with her ideas. “My new job as a middle school guidance counselor, for which I am being severely underpaid. Now if we could just stick to the clearance section-“

“No!!! This one, AH, it would look perfect on you!” Another blouse hit your face with the tag nearly stabbing you in the eye. Prying it off soon got a look at the price.

“Holy SHIT, Maia, this costs like half of my paycheck. Which I don’t even have yet!”

“Fine!” She half groaned as she flung all the clothes in her arms up in dramatic fashion. “You win. We’ll go look at last season’s leftovers.”

“Oh my God, Maia, before you storm off at least help pick all of this up. I don’t want the employees here to hate us.” As much as you loved your best friend and her theatrical personality you had also worked retail before and knew exactly how difficult it was dealing with customers like her.

“Okay,” she slowly turned around before helping you grab two pairs of pants off the floor. When the last few items were hung back up she met your eyes with a timid half-smile and a look of bargaining on her face. “I’ll cool down if you promise to try on at least three outfits that I pick out for you, please (Y/N)?”

You figured that this was going to be the best possible deal you could get until you stopped yourself and thought of something sweeter. “Alright, it’s a deal IF you buy me churro too.”

“Ugh, fine.”

-~-

Surprisingly, there were a couple of solid staple pieces for your wardrobe that were hiding back in the clearance racks that Maia was ecstatic you showed interest in. Walking your bags back to your car and lazily munching on your churro, you could practically feel your exhaustion weighing your body down and you began to zone out from Maia’s story about some members from her running club as you instinctively headed for the driver’s seat.

“Wait, stop,” Maia turned to you with the most confused look on her face just as you were reaching for the door. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Oh thank God,” you practically burst into tears. “Are you offering to drive? Because there’s no way that I’m going to be able to get us home without passing out at the wheel.”

“Um, first, it’s only half past 8. I know we’re not in college anymore but this is actually really sad. Second, you only tried on two outfits. I still get to pick out one more!”

“Are you serious?” You asked her but really you already knew she was… Completely. “What other stores are there that you could possibly drag me to?”

“Dimitrescu is two blocks from here.” Just the sound of that name made you almost regurgitate your churro on the spot.

“Maia, neither of us can even afford to walk in there! Hell, their stuff is so expensive they even lock it up when it gets donated to the thrift store. Remember you cried that one time you found one of her vintage dresses at a second-hand shop but it still cost more than your rent?”

“I’m not expecting you to get anything! I’d actually be really pissed if you did and had something from my favorite designer before me. But it doesn’t cost anything to try stuff on!

“It does if we break something.”

“Y/N, I will drive you home and buy you a whole bucket of churros if you just let me do this. It won’t take more than ten minutes I swear.”

Apparently, exhaustion made it really difficult for you to stay assertive because the next thing you knew you were standing outside the most luxurious store you had ever encountered. Dimitrescu looked more like a bank or a museum than a shop with its near blinding lights and crisp marble floors safely guarded behind two very tall men dressed in extravagant black suits that silently opened the doors for you.

“This is incredible!” Maia practically squealed at the sight of all of the perfectly styled pieces of clothing which complemented the minimalist yet elegant gold-accented furniture that looked like it had never been touched. The only thing you could do was silently nod in complete agreement as your eyes caught the image of the most intricate crystal chandelier you had ever seen. It really was like walking into the world of the upper class and a short memory of the last time you had seen your ex-girlfriend interrupted your moment of bliss. She was a lawyer and her law firm had rented out an entire art gallery uptown for some fancy celebration which she had invited you to. At the time you assumed that meant she was serious about you and your relationship might be taking a turn for the better. But by the end of that evening…

Thankfully (or not so thankfully), your flashback was short-lived as one of the workers of the store interrupted your thoughts. “Is there any particular reason you’re here?” A somewhat abrasive voice stopped you and your best friend in your tracks.

“We’re just looking,” Maia innocently responded, thinking nothing of the situation. But you were immediately aware of how defensive the clerk seemed to be as she stood there with her arms crossed and eyes clearly judging the two of you up and down.

“I don’t think this is the type of store you’d be interested in,” she gave you a fake smile and slowly began walking out from behind the counter. When her entire outfit, a sleek white dress suit with matching designer Christian Louboutins, came into view, you suddenly became acutely aware of your appearance. Sure, you weren’t wearing the latest designs from fashion week or anything that really fit the vibe of the store but dressing comfortably to go shopping wasn’t that unheard of. And Maia was never not put together! Maybe neither of you had the budget for this type of place but you would bet that your best friend could dress just as well at a more affordable price.

“Hey, we just came in to look around for a few minutes,” you don’t really care if you sound irritable or tired now. Conflict resolution is definitely something you usually excel in but right now this worker was obviously trying to be rude. Letting her push the both of you around wasn’t in your nature either. “We’ll be off your back soon so you won’t have to do your job for long.”

“That’s my concern. See, we don’t really like people coming in from off the street with no intention of buying anything. It’s just to protect the merchandise.”

Okay. That was definitely meant to offend you.

“Are you implying that we might try to steal something?” You practically scoff after what you hear.

“Um, Y/N?” You feel Maia tug gently on your sleeve and assume she’s trying to drag you away from the situation, but you’re not running this time. Too many times in the past you’d been the one to let people walk all over you just for the sake of appeasement.

“Steal? No, we have security. I just think you and your friend might be able to find something more your speed back in Chinatown.”

Final. Fucking. Straw.

“Are you kidding me?!”

“Y/N-“ Maia pulls on your sleeve harder.

“Excuse me,” a deep, melodic voice that you suspected would usually sound more comforting if its owner wasn’t so blatantly irritated suddenly fills the room.. “What is going on here?”

Somehow, and you had no clue why except that maybe the universe was looking to punish you, you found your dumb self in the presence of the most ethereal and intimidating being you had ever seen. And it was no other than the world-famous designer herself. Alcina Dimitrescu.

-~-

For a luxury designer with her own label, there was surprisingly little information on Alcina Dimitrescu known to the public. A quick google search could tell you that she immigrated from Romania two decades ago to study fashion and design in college on some prestigious scholarship from the Miranda Foundation. Her alma mater proudly stated that she had graduated at the top of her class and was a consistent donor to their design program, but as far as any specific classes or clubs she might have participated in during her time there, nothing was to be found on their website. Even her own brand’s website, Dimitrescu, had very little about her personal involvement with the brand and merely stated that she was the founder and CEO. There was also a very brief section that described her original inspiration for her first pieces coming from old Romanian folklore but that was as specific as it got. A few photos from various fashion weeks and other high-scale events would also pop up if you looked up her name but they usually showed her in a group setting or being caught unaware by paparazzi. She was noticeably never smiling in any of them.

Of course, there was gossip that naturally spread across the fashion world but Maia would’ve been much more familiar with those rumors than you ever cared to be. Studying to be a guidance counselor had definitely taught you to form your own opinions on people and take your information straight from the horse’s mouth. Columnists and other media influencers loved to highlight the fact that she was apparently very tall and a few others occasionally framed her as being a stuck-up diva type. But hanging around Maia for most of your life you had soon learned that Miss Dimitrescu had a highly capable public relations and legal team that could pull stories like that straight off the record. There was, however, one specific topic about the lady which you secretly loved to listen to your best friend talk about. While she had never been confirmed to ever have a partner, there was a substantial amount of talk which claimed she definitely preferred to keep women in her company if only for short periods at a time. Alcina Dimitrescu was notoriously known for living behind a closet made of glass and an endless line of women waiting at the door.

Staring back at her at that moment, you definitely couldn’t deny that you wished those rumors concerning her sexuality were true. Everything about her was nothing short of captivating and you could feel your breath hitch in your throat as you desperately tried to take in each and every single detail. Her dark hair was perfectly styled into short intricate curls that perfectly framed the most bright pair of golden eyes you had ever had the pleasure of being enchanted by. Her skin, while quite pale, had a healthy glow to it that accentuated her near flawless face. The only features that really stood out were her distinct smile lines and a few creases around her eyes, though you found them to be mesmerizing in their own right. Perfectly painted deep red lips that made you start to feel weak in the knees tempted you to follow her lower down her slender yet powerful neck. And even further below laid the fullness of her…

When Maia’s elbow pokes into your side it interrupts you from your daze and you quickly become aware of how creepy you must look just ogling the woman in front of you. It wasn’t just embarrassing to be caught blatantly staring but on top of that you’d nearly forgotten about the situation you were supposed to be dealing with. You try to jerk your head to find the pompous worker who had made the racist comment but you’re immediately met with a sharp pain running through your neck from the motion. It was almost as if your body was physically punishing itself for gaping so freely at the Lady and losing track of what was important.

“Lady Dimitrescu, I didn’t realize you were still here!” The worker goes completely pale and you realize that she’s just as surprised as you are. For a moment you begin to question how a person so tall was able to sneak up on the three of you with only Maia noticing but you drop it fairly quickly. “These guests were just leaving.”

“How dim-witted do you think me to be?” The lady’s voice roared with an innate tone of authority and you were grateful it wasn’t being directed at you. “I don’t know which is more insulting. Is it your racism and disgusting behavior? Or perhaps it’s the fact that you assumed you’d get away with it?”

“My lady I-“ It was like watching a wounded animal beg for its life at the feet of a starving lion. The words were practically meaningless. Her fate was already sealed and she was just awaiting digestion.

“You will no longer be working for this company or any other respectable designer for that matter. I shall see to it myself that you never do. The only reason why I haven’t thrown you out of this establishment yet is because you WILL apologize to the two customers you have treated so horrifically before grabbing your things and running home with your tail between your legs like the creature you are.”

“Please,” you could hear her choking on her own tears. “If you would just let me explain-“

“NOW!”

“I’m so sorry,” she squeaks at a level that’s barely audible and you have a split second to see the exact look of fear she has in her swelling eyes. It leaves you feeling somewhat conflicted. A part of you is relieved that she’s actually being held accountable for her actions but you also doubt that she actually feels remorse. The sad excuse of an apology she gave was most likely just said so she wouldn’t further upset her now former employer. It contained no real substance to it and you were certain that her bitter feelings towards you were now only going to get worse. Still, it was a better outcome than others you had experienced in the past.

When Lady Dimitrescu finally turns to you she can see the absolute mess of emotions that you’re juggling. “Please, you shouldn’t feel bad for her-“

“I don’t,” you interrupt her quickly, not wanting to give off the impression that you’re upset by the lady’s decision. “She was completely over the line. I’m just glad that you actually did something about it. Most people don’t care enough to intervene in these types of situations. My friend and I are pretty used to just dealing with those types of people on our own.”

The frown she wears on her face is almost heartbreaking but it shows you how genuine her sympathy is. “I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am for how awfully she treated the two of you. She was simply grotesque. Along with a formal apology from myself I insist that you and your friend both take home the entire Fall collection or any other number of items from my store that you might prefer otherwise.”

“You’re joking, right?!” You’ve never seen Maia this dumbfounded before while sober. She looks like she would combust on the spot if she were physically capable of doing so and you feel a small smile creep back to your face. Now that your best friend had gotten a chance to speak you knew the levee walls were no match for the flood of words she was about to unleash. “I’m just, oh my God, wow! Thank you so so so much Lady Dimitrescu. And can I just say that your work literally inspires me everyday? I mean I can’t even believe I’m meeting you! Is this really happening? This stuff like never happens to me! Well, actually dealing with bs from people like that woman isn’t too uncommon. I swear white women just have the audacity sometimes. Not that you’re one of those, uh, white women! You seem like one of the good ones. Oh shit, that probably didn’t sound right did it? Anyway, please forgive me for all of that babble and for my friend’s staring. I’m sure she didn’t mean it in a ‘ah, you’re so tall that’s crazy!’ type of way. She probably just meant it in a ‘wow I’m definitely a lesbian’ way. She’ll never admit it but she’s always had a weakness for tall women so-“

“I think what my friend is trying to say is she’s a big fan of your work and is just grateful for your generosity and character that you’ve shown both of us!” The awkward laugh that your body lets out makes you sound like a deflating balloon and it makes you almost regret not throwing your hand over Maia’s talking hole.

Much to your surprise Lady Dimitrescu doesn’t look all that phased by your comments and continues to express a polite smile. You think you might also see a bit of amusement in her eyes but then the second you realize you’re staring at her again you freak out and try to shake yourself out of her hold.

“You have absolutely nothing to apologize for.” Goddamnit her voice is way too soothing. “I’m extremely mortified by what’s happened here today so it is the very least I can do. Amira, would you please help these women look around the store and find them their correct sizes?” Another worker that you assume is Amira immediately appears at the call of her name.

“Oh my God I’ve never been sized for Dimitrescu clothes before! I’m usually a size 8 or 10 depending on the brand but I’m not sure what I’d be here.” Maia practically rushes off with Amira before she can even process what was happening, poor her, which just left…..

“You two seem very different. But I’m assuming you’ve known each other for quite some time?” You practically curse to yourself at the mere sound of her voice. She’s being perfectly polite aside from that hint of playfulness that rings in your ear. It gives away her slight sense of amusement.

“Yes and yes,” you try to look at her like a normal person but can already feel your face heating up. “We grew up together but Maia’s always been a lot more familiar with all of this,” you generally gesture to your surroundings hoping that she’ll get your point. The perfectly displayed designer handbags and matching shoes that gave you blisters just looking at them were undeniably beautiful but they just weren’t you. And it wasn’t that you were ungrateful for Lady Dimitrescu’s offer of a new wardrobe but it was simply too much for you to accept. You just didn’t know if she’d be offended if you told her and you certainly didn’t want that. “I’ve always felt kinda out of my element in these types of places.”

With a quizzical look in her eye she studies you for only a few moments but is still able to read your feelings with an impressive amount of clarity. “That’s quite understandable. I’ve been in this industry for two decades but it can still feel quite isolating at times. Being surrounded by those who are often more concerned with outward appearances and more material items makes it rather difficult to stay true to your own authentic self.”

She wasn’t wrong. And that’s why you had to be honest. “I’m sorry but I don’t think I can accept a new wardrobe from you, it just doesn’t feel right. It’s a very generous offer and everything in your collection is absolutely stunning but it’s just not me. I hope you can understand.”

“Please, don’t worry about it at all. I actually had a feeling that you’d say that. The only thing I must insist on is that you let me take you to dinner in lieu of my original offer.”

“Oh Lady Dimitrescu, I could never-”

“Please,” the way she purposefully reaches for your hand startles you at first. It’s firm yet gentle at the same time, as if she’s been contemplating it for a while now. “I’d be delighted to take you to dinner, truly. At the very least I’m obligated to lend you my ear so that you may express any thoughts or concerns you have about what just transpired. I would love to gain more of your perspective if you wouldn’t mind sharing.”

You’re not sure if it’s the distant sounds of Maia squealing in the background or just the general taxation of today’s events that leave you unable to process things, but the next words that leave your mouth waver in a way that you instantly regret.

“Could I… I’m sorry but could I think it over first?”

“Of course, my dear, no pressure at all,” she gently squeezes your hand before releasing it to reach for something else. A small look of disappointment is evident in her eyes that make you feel like you’ve done something wrong. “Here, please take my personal number and feel free to use it whenever. My offer doesn’t expire and I apologize again for the intolerable treatment you experienced today.”

You want to say something, maybe a ‘thank you’ or at least try to explain that you’re beyond flattered to have been invited to dinner but just suffer from crippling anxiety and still feel completely debilitated from the way she touched you. But instead Maia takes that exact opportunity to make her grand re-entrance accompanied by at least a dozen different dresses hanging from her arms. “Y/N, they have a jumpsuit in the exact shade of blue that’s PERFECT for me. I think you’re gonna have to drive the car around by the time I’m done!”

You look back around, desperate to find the lady and give her a better explanation than the one that just unceremoniously fell out of your mouth, but as mysteriously as she arrived she was also gone.

Author’s Note: Yes, the MC and Maia are both of Asian descent! This was a decision I made very early on when I was starting to come up with ideas for the story. Their race/ethnicity doesn't play a huge role to the plot and may only come up every now and then, but this was something really important to me personally. As someone that's Asian, finding fanfiction with content I can relate to is often difficult when most MCs are portrayed as having "sapphire blue eyes" and "luscious golden locks" or some other combination of features that are typically found in white characters. I also just wanted to write something that reflects my own experiences as an Asian and person of color for once, but I'm hoping that all types of audiences will still be able to relate to this story. 

You can also find me on AO3 as MCULesbian and chapters 1-4 are already up there!

[fett-djarin]

Anything

this bitch done YEET

anyway this is Boba Fett x f!Reader! I had this idea kicking around for awhile and shit finally came together and i was able to get it done!

Rating: 18+

Length: 4.1k

Warnings/Tags: SMUT, canon-typical violence (not in the smut), PiV intercourse, unprotected sex, fingering, riding, throne sex come get yalls juice, multiple orgasms, creampie, spanking, slight cockwarming?, pet names, swearing

NSFW BELOW THE CUT!

Boba Fett was an enigma. He intimidated you, intrigued you--but he didn’t scare you. Boba could be violent, occasionally cruel, but only to those who had earned his ire. You had nothing to fear.

You still remember the day he stormed into Jabba’s palace, a wrathful spectre on a mission. You had been afraid you would be caught in the crossfire, an exchange of possession through violence. But then your chains were blasted apart, scum of men dying around you instead of finding your own demise. Instead of fleeing like the other girls, you dove towards a dropped blaster and levelled it at one of the smugglers putting up a fight. This particular one had been a thorn in your side for a long time. You’d be lying if you said you felt no satisfaction watching him fall lifeless from your well-placed blaster bolt.

“Nice shot,” the woman--Fennec, you had come to learn--commented. You had turned in a panic, pointing the blaster in her direction, her own rifle coming up in an instant, aimed squarely at your head.

“Easy, girl,” the Mandalorian--Boba--had said. “We have no interest in fighting you.”

“If you mean to sell me again,” you spat, “it would be easier to kill me now.” Your fingers flexed on the blaster, and you tried to steady your shaking hands. Fennec’s aim hadn’t faltered.

“Stand down, Shand,” Fett directed the sharpshooter, who immediately lowered her weapon. He then addressed you again. “I don’t deal in flesh.” You slowly dropped your arm. “What’s your name, girl?”

That had been...a few standard months ago, now. Boba ran his syndicate under a tight fist. He had no use for slaves, and had told you you were free, even offered you credits to return home. Some of the others took his offer. You had opted to stay--your birth planet had nothing to offer you, and you did not want to try your luck as a newly freed woman with nothing to your name on Tatooine. You didn’t even have a name, really. You were called something different each time you moved; your birthname was no longer you. That person had died long ago.

“Call me anything,” you had told Boba. “I don’t mind.”

He thought for a minute, and then decided. “Mayen.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you. The gruff, seemingly serious man had a sense of humor. Mayen--Mando’a for ‘anything.’ His lips quirked in a sly smirk. You liked it. Mayen it was.

“You know Mando’a?” He had asked.

“I’ve picked up things here and there,” you smiled in return.

He later on told you that you could pick your own name, you had no obligation to go by the silly pun he called you. But you had a sense of humor, and actually liked how it sounded. It was a new beginning. You decided you would keep it.

You knew quite a few languages, or bits and pieces you heard over the years. Boba had hired you as a translator, and you accompanied him to meetings with traders, smugglers, and pirates. He didn’t allow any of them to harass you. If they so much as leered in your direction, they tended to lose a few fingers or teeth, either by your hand or his. At Boba’s insistence, you now carried a blaster and a vibroblade. Fennec had been showing you how to properly aim and shoot so you could better protect yourself. He had gifted you the vibroblade as part of your payment.

Yes, Boba Fett was a hard man, but you appreciated his kindness.

His scars added to his imposing figure, and you often found yourself wondering about their origin. What he must have gone through for his skin to be marked so. You also wondered about how stupid some people could be--Mandalorians were legendary warriors, and Boba Fett had some infamy connected to his name, yet fools still picked fights they were destined to lose. His armor impressed you--and the dark stare of the T-visor when he looked your way always had something low and warm stirring in your belly.

It didn’t help that sometimes he would watch while you practiced with your blade. Your heart thundered in your ears the first time he came up behind you, chest to your back, and moved your arms into the correct defensive position. His boot also nudged your stance wider, centering your weight. It’s part of training, you told yourself. You prayed he didn’t notice the heat in your face or the way you refused to look at him. Stars, if you turned your head you could kiss him--

What could you say? He was a handsome man.

Occasionally he offered to spar with you, which was laughable. The first time you had outright refused. “I don’t want to die, thanks,” you said.

“You’re gonna have to face people bigger and stronger than you sometimes, princess,” he said the endearment mockingly.

“Most people aren’t Boba Fett.”

“You’re right about that. Still, come on, show me what you’ve learned.”

Your first fight ended miserably in about three seconds. You gave him a pointed look that said I-told-you-so, and he just shrugged. “Not bad for your first time.” Sparring became regular.

“You’re quicker than me. Use that to your advantage, stay out of my reach. Strike and retreat.”

“Arms up, but keep ‘em close--protect your body.”

“Stagger your stance, distribute your weight. Make it harder for people to knock you down.”

“Move with confidence--this is not the time to falter.”

His words of advice came with each session and stuck. After a few weeks, you could hold your own for a minute against Fett. Then five minutes. Then your sparring was like a coordinated, aggressive dance, blades flashing and deflected, ducking, dodging, weaving, spinning around each other. Once, you had even managed to disarm him, knocking the blade from his hand--you both froze in stunned surprise before Boba recovered and had you pinned to the floor in an instant.

“Very good.” He said from his place atop your legs, pride curling darkly through his voice. “But next time, press the advantage. You freeze, you die.” Now you froze for an entirely different reason--his weight on top of you caused something hot and wanting to smolder in you, his thumb gently stroking the hollow of your throat making your breath hitch. And then he was off you, pulling you back to your feet with ease.

You still couldn’t beat him--you don’t think you would ever be capable of that. The best bounty hunter in the galaxy against you? You much prefer being on his good side.

Boba had just returned from a recent bounty hunt alongside a fellow Mandalorian, having left you and Fennec at the palace. You had been helping her sort through the datalogs and contraband left behind from the previous occupants when he appeared, moving surprisingly silent for such a broad, imposing man.

“Mayen,” he called you, and you looked at him over your shoulder, having been preoccupied cataloguing the contents of the crate in front of you. He was still in his armor, adding to his bulk. The green-painted beskar gave nothing away. “I’ve got a meeting. You’ll be needed. Fennec, I sent you scouting information on the next bounty.”

You nodded, and with your acknowledgment, he turned and strode back towards the throne room. Fennec stood, brushing sand off her pants. “Careful,” Fennec warned. “Keep your blaster close. You never know how these meetings will turn out.” She patted you on the shoulder.

“Got it,” you said, adjusting your tunic so she could see the holster on your hip. It would be the first time she wasn’t there alongside you while Boba arranged deals with crime lords. Sometimes Boba would go in alone, or the both of you would attend. “Trained by the best.”

She cracked a smile at that. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to track down our next target.” She exited the storage room opposite of the way Boba went.

You gathered yourself, then followed after Boba. Entering the throne room was daunting, as the traders he was meeting with were already there and turned to stare. A few of them openly looked you up and down. Your eyes were fixed solely on Boba lounging on the throne, legs spread, seemingly completely at ease and exuding power. You strode past the group of men come to bargain, refusing to look away from the void of Boba's visor that tracked your movement. One of them muttered something as you passed that you couldn't make out, but it had not sounded pleasant. You took your place at Boba's side.

"Boba Fett, the legendary bounty hunter back from the dead," a wiry human man stepped forward, rubbing his hands together. His grin was more of a baring of teeth. "Now that you run this joint, I have a few propositions to consider--"

Since he was speaking Basic, you have to admit, you tuned out. You watched the two Twi’leks that had accompanied him, who kept throwing glances your way, murmuring to themselves. Something about them put you on edge. Of course, you never trusted the people who came to do business with Boba, but you liked this group even less.

You translated for a Rodian bounty hunter when it was his turn to speak. You noticed the Twi'leks and the first human had been getting antsy, shifting from foot to foot and continuing to eye you and Boba. The Twi'leks had never come forward. They spelled trouble. You were tense the entire time, but they reached an agreement and left without trouble.

Boba on the throne was a sight. Your mind wandered, wondering what it would be like to sit on his lap, straddle his strong thighs. You shook your head to clear it as Boba cleared his throat, drawing your attention.

"Go get some rest, little one." And with that, you were dismissed.

You touched yourself thinking of him that night. Imagining it was his fingers instead of yours bringing you to your peak. You bit your fist as you came, muffling your moans and preventing you from calling his name out into the night.

The next day, he had gone out once again. When he returned, you noted his armor had some new scratches, some of the fresh green paint chipped away. He beckoned you forward with a wave, following him to the throne room. He sat with a heavy sigh. You stood before him, waiting for his direction, when he removed his helmet and set it aside. There was a new cut on his cheek, dried blood sticking to his skin.

"You're hurt," you said, stepping forward. Boba grunted noncommittally in response, reaching into a pouch on his belt and pulling out a small container of bacta.

"Use this," his voice was gravelly and he tossed the container to you. He...wanted you to put the bacta on him? Your pulse kicked up. But you would do as he asked.

You unscrewed the lid, swiping your finger through the gel. "What happened?" You asked as you spread it as gently as you could over the cut.

"Those hunters from yesterday," he sighed. "Thought they could catch me unaware out in the dunes. Their last mistake." He chuckled. "This was really the only hit I took," he gestured to the cut along his cheek. You had finished spreading the bacta, but your hand still lingered. You were entranced, being this close to him. Your thumb mindlessly caressed his cheekbone.

"Mayen," he said your name. You met his eyes, the heat in his gaze taking you by surprise. He always had fire and fight in him, but this wasn't like that. It was wanting. Boba grasped your wrist of the hand that still held his face, his other coming up to cup the back of your head.

Then you were kissing him.

You don't know if you leaned down or if he pulled you down or if he leaned up or if it even mattered, all you cared about was his rough lips against yours. When you gasped into it, he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. Boba's kisses were all consuming, overwhelming--he demanded all of you, and wouldn't accept any less.

He leaned back, bringing you with him so you had no choice but to straddle his lap or be pulled off-balance. You settled along his thighs, sighing as you could now grind your center against his stiffening member. He nipped your bottom lip, breaking away to press kisses down your throat.

“Tell me, sweetheart…” he murmured, worrying a mark into the delicate skin of your neck.

You whined, rolling your hips against his. His hands clamped down like durasteel around your hips, stilling you. “Tell me. We stop if you say so.”

“I want you, Boba,” you gasped, and he rewarded you with another hickey sucked into your neck. He guided your hips back into a slow grind, thrusting up against you. The layers of clothes between you dulled the sensation, but warm waves of pleasure still radiated through you. You cradled his jaw, bringing his lips back to yours, before trailing your palms down his chest. You pawed at his chestplate and robes, making him chuckle.

“Eager, aren’t we?” he teased you lightly. You squeaked when he pinched your ass. “Take this off, princess.” His hands slid up under your tunic, running up and down your sides before caressing your breasts.

You lifted your arms, helping him slide your shirt over your head. Instinctively, your arms came down to cover yourself, but Boba tutted at you. “Don’t get shy on me now, mesh’la. Let me see you.” He murmured in your ear before lightly nipping the lobe, sending shivers down your spine. He encouraged you to put your hands back on his chest. You whined against him, need building in your core as he undid your bindings and continued to guide your hips in a deep grind.

Boba’s fingers crept along the waistband of your pants before diving inside. You moaned as they landed on your clit. “This wet already? Someone’s a needy little thing.” You felt your face heat at his teasing accompanied by his rough fingers circling your clit built you up even more. You hid your face in his shoulder, grinding against his hand for more of that raw pleasure. Boba suddenly pressed hard against your clit in a tight circle, making you cry out loudly and grip his robes for dear life.

“Boba, please,” you whined, lips tracing his throat, his jaw, wherever you could reach. You brought your own hand down to cup him through his pants, running your hand along his bulge. He cursed lightly in your ear as you gently squeezed him.

“Up,” he said, patting your ass. You stood, taking the opportunity to shimmy out of your pants and panties. He lounged back against the throne, taking in your form. You didn’t cover yourself this time. “Good girl. Come here.” You stepped between his spread knees and he took you by the elbow, pulling you down and turning you so your back was pressed to his chest and your legs were spread by his own. His touch returned to your clit, sliding through your slick folds to tease your entrance. You pressed your ass back against his hardness and he groaned.

His arm banded around your waist as he finally slid a finger into your dripping entrance. You gasped, head falling back to rest on his shoulder. When he introduced a second one, you began to squirm. The stretch was so good as his fingers slid within you, curling and pressing into that perfect spot that sent you soaring. You were practically riding his hand, your hips circling as his fingers moved faster and faster.

“Oh,” you gasped as he added a third, legs trembling. Your hand shot to his where it was locked around your middle, holding you against him, while your other curled up and back, turning his head so you could kiss him. Boba found that spot in you that made you clench tight around him and zeroed in with deadly precision. You felt him grin smugly against your lips as your breathing stuttered. “Boba!”

“Look at you, so desperate for my fingers. Squeezin’ me so tight, sweetheart, can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”

You found yourself teetering at the edge of release. You turned your head, burying your nose in Boba’s neck. “Please, Boba, g’nna cum, please--” you gasped out. It was a good thing he held you to him, else you would have been bucking off his lap.

“Cum on my fingers, cyar’ika.”

Your mouth opened in a silent moan as you tipped over the edge of orgasm, cumming hard around Boba’s fingers. Your cunt flooded with wetness, the lewd sound of his fingers thrusting into you becoming even wetter. If he hadn’t been holding you to his chest you would have doubled over with the devastating pulses of pleasure rocking through you from your center. He continued working you through it until you whined, pushing at his hand that still moved between your thighs, need building up in you again.

Boba brought his fingers up to his mouth and you moaned at the sight of him sucking and licking them clean of your arousal. “Taste so sweet,” he said. “Open.” You opened your mouth, and he slid his fingers inside. Obediently, you sucked on them, swirling your tongue around his fingers like you would his cock. Boba groaned. "Dirty girl."

He withdrew his fingers from your mouth and you begged. "Want your cock, please, Boba--please fuck me, please--"

"Hush, needy pet. You'll get what you want." He bit your neck, the sharp pinpricks fading into a warm buzz that made you squirm, wiggling your hips on his lap. Boba reached down between you two and shifted himself out of his robes, sliding his cock against your soaked folds. You looked down and Maker, he was thick. You were suddenly glad he made you take three fingers--you hoped you would be able to take his cock.

He rutted against you, his cock sliding through your folds and pulling breathless little gasps from you each time his head nudged your clit. Each slick drag of him against your lips coated his cock in your wetness. Boba evidently grew tired of teasing you, because he urged you up and took hold of the base of his cock, guiding it to your dripping entrance. You moaned at the feeling of his thick tip splitting you open, sinking down the first inch.

Boba's hand came around to rub little circles on your clit, making you jerk against him, his other hand caging you in by your hip. Slowly, he encouraged you to sit back on his lap, the thick drag and push of his cock working inch-by-inch deeper into you. Stars, you felt him in your fucking guts. Your thighs trembled, and when your ass touched his lap you nearly sobbed from how full you felt.

"Look at that," he murmured into your hair. "Takin' me so well, princess. Feels fucking good, doesn't it?" You clenched around him at his words, making him choke off a moan. He rubbed your clit a tick faster just to feel you spasm around him again and he laughed at your high gasp of pleasure.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, it was too good--that ache, the raw sparks shooting down your legs and up your spine. Shifting the slightest bit pushed him right up something devastating inside you and you couldn't stop the wrecked moan that tore from your throat. Boba gave an experimental thrust and you nearly shrieked and lurched off of him, if he hadn't grabbed a hold of your hips and held you on his lap. You babbled senselessly, too overwhelmed as every ridge of his cock pressed your walls just right. "B-Boba, Boba, move, please--"

His big hand slapped your inner thigh and this time you did wail, the hot sting fading into a pleasant, buzzing warmth. His fingers dug in to the soft flesh hard enough that you knew there would be bruises in the shape of his fingers come morning. Then he lifted you slightly off him, cock sliding only a few inches out, before pulling you down in time with a thrust upwards, burying himself in you with a deep grind. You let out a choked moan, stars bursting behind your eyelids.

"Ride," he demanded. Your breath hitched as you scrambled for purchase, hands going to his strong thighs for support. It was sort of an awkward position, your feet barely touching the floor, requiring you to go on your tiptoes to pull a few inches off his cock. Boba's thick fingers cupped your pussy in a V shape, so every time you rose and fell they rolled against your clit. You couldn't tell if you wanted to push your hips back away or forward for more stimulation.

He slapped your other thigh this time, rubbing to soothe the sting, encouraging you to bounce on his cock faster. Your breath was coming in high, moaning pants as each drop of your hips buried him deep inside you, reaching places you never had and lighting up your nerves like a star gone supernova. Paired with his touch teasing your clit with every thrust, you weren't going to last long.

Boba's hands on your hips guided you faster, rougher--each downstroke hitting deep and holding you there for a second just to feel how full, how stuffed your pussy was of him. His thrusts up as you dropped down allowed his cock to hit your g-spot dead on, over and over. You felt yourself rhythmically clenching around him, heard his groans as your cunt strangled his cock, and you were so close to cumming again. The feeling coiled up at the base of your spine, the pleasure winding tighter and higher and ready to burst.

And then--then Boba hooked his hands under your knees, pulling your legs up so all your weight rested on where he was buried in you, and he slipped another inch further inside. You couldn't stop the sob of pleasure as he held you like this, open for him to take, and he set a punishing pace. The dull slap of skin-on-skin paired with the wet gush of your arousal around him, dripping down his balls and onto the throne, made your head tip back onto his shoulder and wrenched moan after moan out of you.

You were talking, babbling nonsense--begging, pleading for him to make you cum again. Boba tilted his hips just right and you keened as it pushed his cock right against the soft spot along your walls. Each thrust shoved you closer to the edge right until that coil inside you snapped. Your legs shook and your pussy clamped down so hard around Boba's cock that it stunted him to short, shallow thrusts as you rode it out. You distantly heard him groaning, praising you, telling you good girl, good fuckin' girl--you were spasming around him, each jolt of pleasure like a white-hot knife radiating from your core to your toes. Boba kept fucking you through it and you nearly begged him to stop--it was too much, the bite of overstimulation burning your nerves--when he pulled you down, fucking into you as deep as he could and he came with a groan of your name, cock throbbing as his release coated your walls.

Somehow, you ended up turned, face buried in his neck and legs wrapped around his waist as you trembled and caught your breath. His hands trailed up and down your spine and thighs in soothing motions as you came back down. You sighed and cuddled closer to him, the hard beskar plating cold against your bare skin, but it felt good on your overheated body.

"Made quite a mess on me, sweetheart," he said, deep voice rumbling in his chest under your ear. You just mmm'd and clung closer to him while he chuckled. It was true. Your arousal coated your thighs, dripped down onto the throne, soaked Boba's cock where it was still buried in you. Boba pulled his robe around you and stood, supporting you with his hands under your thighs. "Come on, little one, let's go to bed." You closed your eyes as he made his way out of the throne room and through the palace. He didn't drop you off in your bedroom, instead taking you to his and laying you in the spacious bed before stripping off his armor and joining you.

[potatoes-is-are-food]

Demon Shit

Okay so this is based very heavily off a dream I had so reader is a little more specific than usual so keep in mine “you” are small in this. There is also gonna be a part 2 because the dream didn’t end here! Anyways thank you guys for 300+ followers I really appreciate you!!

| NSFW

 “Here, put this in the circle,” the witch said, eyeing you like she still didn’t trust you despite the fact you’d been helping her with this ritual for two days already. You did as instructed, placing the jar of roots in the chalk circle on the ground.

“Okay, now you wait here, stand here,” she moved you into the circle,“and I’ll be right outside. Whatever you do, don’t talk to it. Just wait for me.” She stared you down intensely before leaving the room, shutting the door behind her and leaving you in the dark with only a few candles flickering around the room to provide light.

You waited for a while, trying not to fidget and feeling very uncomfortable in the dress she’d had you wear. It was a thin material meant for a summer day, and the cold aura of the room chilled you to the bone, making you shiver and shuffle your bare feet. 

Suddenly the air started to shift, and you felt a warm breeze despite there being no doors or windows open in the room. Several candles blew out, leaving you in almost complete darkness. Fear gripped your chest, your heart thumping hard in your ribcage.

Something was breathing in front of you. Right in front of you. Tentatively, you reached a hand out in front of your face. Only a few centimeters away you made contact with ...skin. You flinched, immediately bringing your hands to your chest and wringing them together nervously.

The door creaked open slowly, and your new “friend” stepped back in, letting the light from the hallway flood into the small room.

“Good, good. Now just stay there. Don’t talk to him. Just stand there and I’ll be right back, I have to get the last piece. Don’t talk to him.” She pointed a bony finger at you, jerking it forward a little for her last sentence. You nodded, still a little too shaken to speak just yet. With a nod, she was gone, leaving the door open this time to give you some light.

Nervously your eyes darted to the floor and slowly started to work up the creature’s form. It was supposed to be a demon for her to bargain with, a horrifying mass of ungodly limbs and dread. But it looked like a man. His skin was discolored in patches that were stapled to what looked like normal skin.

When you reached his face your breath caught in your throat. He was handsome, even with the weird skin and staples. His cyan eyes drew you in, without realizing it you were leaning against him slightly, your chest touching his as you tried to look more closely into those hypnotic eyes.

His warmth was just shocking enough to snap you out of it, and you leaned back off your toes, not even realizing you’d been standing on them. You looked at his blank expression and gently brought a hand up to it, grazing a single finger against his warm cheek.

You circled around him, taking in the sight of his naked body. You’d been too scared before, but with him so still he scared you much less. His muscles were rigid when you touched them, as though he were constantly flexing. Your eyes trailed the staples on his chest before venturing lower.

His flaccid cock hung heavily against him, and with a slightly more flustered disposition you turned your attention to his thighs, stroking along his skin. As you rounded to see his backside your hand trailed along his hip, following the discolored skin around as you looked over his back’s taught muscles and the curve of his ass.

When you reached his front again, you gave his cheek a light poke. No response. You felt like he could see you, though. The thought made you nervous. The woman had told you to only wear the ritual dress, and it was just a thin white dress that went a little past your knees and made you look deceptively innocent. 

Warmth radiating your cheeks, you poked at him some more. His shoulder, bicep, face again. Nothing. You waved a hand in front of his eyes.

“Can you even talk?” You mused, blinking up at his blank face.

His eyes locked onto you. The woman’s voice telling you not to talk to him flashed through your mind followed by a string of curses.

“Of course I can talk, little mouse,” the sound of his voice made your heart feel like it would leap out of your throat and run away. You wanted to scream but felt it die before it even reached your chest. You stared up at him with wide eyes, tears already starting to form.

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing would come out. The demon’s eyes moved up and down your form, his forked tongue sweeping over his lip. You trembled, feeling your head getting lighter and lighter.

“You must be the sacrifice,” he shrugged, scooping you into his arms just as your knees buckled. “You’re no virgin, but I don’t care. You’re mine now, y/n,” He brought you close and his long tongue licked a strip up your neck, making you gasp.

“H-how-” you stared up at him, shaking violently.

“Demon shit. Don’t worry about it,” he stepped out of the circle and suddenly everything aside from him was cold again, making you shiver and curl against his chest. He chuckled and rolled his shoulders a bit, clothing appearing over his body.

You were so busy staring you didn’t notice the figure staring in the doorway until the witch screamed. She fell back, trying to crawl away as the demon calmly stepped towards her.

“I told you not to talk to it you fucking idiot!” She screeched, kicking and trying to back up further as she hit the wall. You felt the hand under your knees flex and her neck snapped, her body falling limply to the floor, face still twisted in fear.

You wanted to scream. Try to run or at least struggle, but you were rooted to the spot. No sound would come.

“Dumb hag,” he spit, the fluid hitting her skirt and immediately setting her corpse on fire. Walking down the hall and out the door, he looked down at your scared expression.

“Should’ve known better than to use a dumb little thing like you for a sacrifice,” his tongue flicked over your cheek, “You didn’t even know you were being sacrificed, huh? Just a sweet little lamb too stupid to know it’s being prepared for the slaughter,” Your face burned at his words and you stared at your hands, not wanting to make eye contact with him while your face was hot and you had tears and his spit on your cheeks.

“Hey,” he called, and you looked up at him without thinking, immediately feeling lost and drowsy in his stare, “Sleep,” he commanded, and your body went limp against him as his order overtook your exhausted body.

When your eyes finally fluttered open you just saw hazy light, like a rainy day. You squinted and sat up, blinking a few times as everything came into focus. You were facing an open window, sheer curtains blowing slightly in the breeze. The sky was overcast, and there didn’t seem to be anything outside for a long ways.

Looking around the room you noticed you were on a plush bed in a nicely furnished room. Everything looked really old, though. Like it hadn’t been touched for decades before now yet without the dust that would accompany that. You stretched and stood, heading for one of the two doors. The first lead to a bathroom, so you closed it and headed for the other one, only to find it locked.

You awkwardly paced around for a minute, debating if you’d break a leg if you jumped out the window from this height.

“Um... Mr. Demon?” You called against the door that wouldn’t open. You chewed on your lip anxiously, waiting for a response. You didn’t get one. You paced for another minute, shivering when the breeze picked up and deciding to close the window and get warm under the blankets on the large bed.

You drifted off for a second, rolling over to get more comfortable and coming face to face with the demon. A startled yelp escaped your lips before you could stop it, and he laughed softly and ruffled your hair a bit.

“W-where am I?” You asked, sliding back away from him a little.

“A house,” he answered smugly, giving you a bored expression. You frowned at him. “Don’t worry about it, doll. You’re safe. If I were gonna hurt you or eat you I’d have done it by now,” his tongue dragged slowly over his bottom lip, “although I’m debating that second thing,”

You felt all the blood in your body rush into your face and you pulled the blankets tighter against you. The corner of his mouth dragged up as he closed the distance between you, slinging an arm over your huddled form.

“You heard me earlier, little sacrifice, you’re mine. The ritual might have gotten fucked up, but you were still sacrificed to me. You couldn’t escape me if you wanted to, and I know you don’t,” his face came closer and closer until his lips were almost touching, “I can feel what you’re feeling. I know you’re scared and confused, but that’s not all,” his lips barely brushed yours as he spoke, “you’re aroused.”

Your mouth fell open before you could stop it, silently begging for his kiss and leaning into his surprisingly gentle touches as he coaxed you closer. His warm hands trailed along your soft body underneath him, palming at your breasts and thighs and any other available flesh. His long, forked tongue twisted around yours and flicked all along the insides of your mouth as you moaned against him.

“So docile, so sweet,” he muttered, trailing his lips down past your jaw and planting scalding kisses to your neck and collar bone. He tugged gently at the neckline of your dress, leaning back a bit to toy with it for a second.

“That bitch really tried to fuck you over,” he laughed, “You wouldn’t have stood a chance in this,” he gathered the flimsy material in both fists and ripped it apart easily, exposing your skin to the cool air and making you gasp. He yanked the fabric away, flinging it to some forgotten corner of the room before pouncing on you again, groping directly at your skin now as you writhed under him.

“Dabi,” he said, lips hovering against the skin of your breast. You held onto his shoulders in an attempt to ground yourself as he started to lick and suckle at your skin.

“What?” You gasped, feeling his sharp teeth nip at you.

“My name. Scream it,” his body snaked down yours until he was lying with his face resting on your upper thigh, centimeters from your core. His hands rubbed soothingly along your thighs and hips as he kissed along your skin, inching closer to your cunt and teasing you with his unnaturally hot breath.

“Please,” you trembled, reaching out for his hand, which he let you hold, intertwining your fingers together.

“Please what?” He teased, giving you a toothy grin so you could see his sharp fangs.

“Please, Dabi,” you said softly, nervously starting to squirm under his predatory gaze. He gave your thigh another short kiss,

“Good girl,” he didn’t waste time, immediately latching onto your drooling cunt and lapping at your clit, using his forked tongue to squeeze and toy with your sensitive nub.

You arched your back, but his hand that wasn’t your stress ball forced you back down onto the bed as he worked his tongue expertly along every spot that made you scream. It hadn’t even been two minutes when you came undone on his mouth, calling his name loudly and gripping his hand as tight as you could. His mouth didn’t move, and he coaxed orgasm after orgasm out of you for what felt like hours.

You called his name, cried, tried to pull his hair, but you came again and again as he overstimulated you so much your orgasms started blending together. When he finally pulled away, you were twitching and unable to form words as he crawled up over you, kissing and licking the tears from your face.

“Good girl,” he cooed, letting you cling to him, “good little sacrifice,” he smirked as he said “sacrifice,” reminding you of your place as his possession.

Once your shaky breathing had mostly calmed down, he kissed you deeply, and you only just noticed his appearing clothes act was also a disappearing one. Your hands gripped his shoulders, moving along his bare chest and feeling more staples there. Your mouth welcomed his tongue, and you sighed pleasantly against his lips at the intrusion, feeling his wet muscle slide along the insides of your cheek and lap at your tongue.

His warm hands groped your breasts gently at first, kneading them for a bit before pinching your nipples hard and making you squeak against him. You felt his teeth as he smirked against your lips, his hands slipping under your body and flipping you onto your stomach with ease. He pulled you up by your hips, forcing your ass up as his other hand pushed your head down into the pillows, making you whimper softly.

He let his hips rest against the curve of your ass, and you felt something heavy and hot settle between your cheeks. Too heavy. Too hot. You started to squirm a little, and suddenly a harsh slap came down on your soft skin, making you cry out.

“Be good and take it,” he lined himself up with your soaked entrance, pushing forward slowly, “that’s it, little mouse,” he groaned, bottoming out and gently rocking his hips a few times. The sting was minimal from how wet you were, but you’d never felt so full.

Suddenly he pulled out nearly all the way and slammed back in with force that had you seeing stars and made your eyes roll back into your head. His fingers gently tangled in your hair before gripping roughly and yanking back as he pounded into your tight heat. He pulled your back to his chest, biting and sucking at your neck as he abused your pussy, one hand holding your hips in a bruising grip and the other holding you to him with your hair.

You gripped at any part of him you could reach, trying to hold on as he used you thoroughly, feeling him hitting your cervix as he snapped his hips against you. The hand on your hip slid forward to toy with your puffy clit, making you whine as he built your orgasm back up.

He sank his teeth deep into the skin of your neck as you came on his cock, blood dripping down your chest as you cried out, clenching as he slid his hand into yours in an attempt at comfort as he marked you, hips still rocking against you and dragging himself against your spasming walls. Tears spilled down your face, dripping and mixing with the blood flowing along your body as you felt yourself getting close again already.

“Gonna be hot, little sacrifice,” he groaned huskily in your ear, hips slapping against you faster. It already felt too hot inside you, the thought of how hot his cum would be had you reeling, getting closer to your own end.

He leaned forward with you, pressing you into the mattress as he rested on top of you, rutting into you harder and harder. You felt him throb inside you before streams of inhumanly hot cum flooded your walls, the feeling combined with his ministrations to your clit had you following suit, creaming around him with a sob as he slowed to a stop, pressed tightly against you to release everything he had inside. It was so hot, and there was so much of it, the sticky feeling of it sloshing around inside and spilling around your thighs and cunt had your eyes rolling back into your head as you came again. Or maybe it extended the last one, you couldn’t really tell anymore.

You completely collapsed under him, going limp as you panted, covered in sweat, tears, cum, and blood. There were spots in your vision and you lost consciousness for a few seconds, groaning softly at even the thought of moving your broken body.

“Come on, sweetness,” Dabi’s hands gently peeled you up, letting your unmoving form rest against him as he took you up into his arms, heading into the bathroom. Everything was pretty fuzzy but you ended up settled against him in a warm bath as he gently scrubbed his trail of destruction off your skin. His softness after being so rough with you had your head spinning, making you cling to him as your only source of comfort.

“Mmmm, so sweet,” he said against your hair, running his fingers through the wet tresses. “All mine now, little sacrifice,” he ran his thumb gently over the bite he’d given you, making you wince. “The ritual getting messed up had me a little nervous, there. I had to bite you like that within twelve hours to keep you,” you turned to look at him with wide eyes and he smirked down at you.

“What do you mean?” You asked softly, still staying close to him if only so he’d stay gentle.

“If the ritual doesn’t finish, the sacrifice is void. But if I can stake my claim on it before twelve hours pass I can keep it anyway. I think it’s supposed to give you a fair shot at escape,” he shrugged, “not like that would’ve happened either way,” he gave you a wink, making blood rush into your face.

“And you,” he continued, “dumb, sweet little thing, are definitely something I want to keep.” He gave the underside of your chin a tap, and you leaned up to him so he could kiss you.

After a while, he got you both out, opening the locked door out of the room and settling you into a bed in a different room of the old house, sliding in beside you and letting you cling to him as you’d been doing for several hours now. He’d made pants appear on him at some point, but you were still naked, shivering against him as he brought you to his chest.

“What happens now?” you asked, snuggled against his warmth.

“Now, you sleep for a few hours. Then we get out of this pocket dimension and summon a friend of mine. You’ll get to help with that.” 

“Why? What are you gonna do?” 

“Demon shit. Now go to sleep.” He planted a soft kiss on your forehead, and you closed your eyes obediently, almost immediately falling asleep.

@soup-forthesoul @vermeilies @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love @shigraki

[waters-and-the-wilde]

more s4 thoughts

ooooh i bet the thing Puck wants to look into is/is related to Nureyev’s creditors

also

they Did That with Diamond-as-foil/parallel to babey Nureyev and now i am dying to find out how juno reflects nureyev’s first love and what kind of light that’s going to shed on the age old question of ‘why the fuck did this idiot just hand over his real name after knowing our grumpy lady for all of half a day’

also

if we’re doing the round trip tour in Juno’s past maybe we’ll still get Cassandra? she’s out there somewhere and might even have an interstellar hauler by now, and if RUBY is planning to stay car-shaped she’s gonna run out of room if Juno’s building a rescue party, anyway maybe we get to hear the ‘Cecil kidnapped by mobsters and lost an arm’ adventure? Juno and Cass's friendship? we know they were party buddies at one point and also went through respective addiction recoveries and also i’m just very here for the ‘get in losers we’re gonna go fuck up Dark Matters’ kind of vibes

and I mean filling in all the backstory on things can be a hit or miss choice and it’s good to leave some stuff as Noodle Incidents (like the time Juno mugged the president of Venus! i don’t even care about the context that shit’s hilarious), otoh they’ve done a pretty good job so far about making allusions that hint at real events and then making sure those events are appropriately impactful when they elaborate and are super mindful of how people are shaped by their histories and it would be cool to put a few more pieces in between HCPD fallout and Murderous Mask

also

this isn’t a thing i’m anticipating it’s just a thing i want but -- finale episode or pre-finale arc part 1 opens with Nureyev doing a v-for-vendetta style broadcast addressed to probably Dark Matters/whoever the fuck else is listening, structured like his speech in Angel of Brahma, he’s got some kind of leverage and is using it to bargain for the Aurinkos (one might say he’s making a ransom demand???) and at that bit of the opening he goes My name is Peter Nureyev

and like. his plan doesn’t work obv bc Jet said ‘I know he is our family and I know he would come back for us and I also know that he will fail’ but I wanna see him try and I wanna see him own it and I want that to be how the others find out

I believe in two things about Peter Nureyev and one is that he’s a dramatic gay bitch and the other is that ultimately the trustworthiness shows up (and also that he loves Juno Steel with all his heart actually I believe in three things about Peter Nureyev)

his success isn’t the point bc that’s Juno’s job, his job is to reach that shift in perspective -- control your name and you control yourself, and that control’s been slipping the more he tries to keep it hidden, and I want to see him make that choice to reveal it because he’s found a reason that makes it worth it and then fucking goes for it in the most dramatic gay bitch way possible instead of getting backed into a corner or having someone else out him

and uh also I love that this is the kind of story where we’re more likely to get that growth instead of the ‘we’re gonna make his worst fear come to pass bc that’s how you do good writing’ like damn speculating about the plot is actually fun when you got some reason to think the outcome could be genuinely rewarding

[slowpoke-fics]

The Good Doctor

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Pairing: Negan x Reader

Summary: You're the doctor in Alexandria and Negan comes on a supply trip, taking something that doesn't belong to him

Warnings: depression, death, mentions of off self, gets a little triggering, I know I'm missing some, Negan is off character, nothing is exactly right in this, it's writing for writings sake

A/N: This is my first fic in years please forgive me for mistakes, it's just me in this operation, probably gonna be a whole series, here is part two!

May 20th

Negan's trucks roll into Alexandria again, loudly pushing past the gate and up to the medical center. Your insides start to rumble at the nervousness you have to see the ruthless man who knows no bounds. You reluctantly step outside and wait for him at your door, not doing well at hiding your displeasure of the loss of supplies.

When Negan and his men get out of their loading trucks, Negan shoots you his oh so dangerous smile before directing his men to their collections, keeping two of his men with him, he finally approaches you. "Well good fuckin' morning Dr. Y/L/N," he holds the door open for you, "after you, doll."

You moved past him, smiling at him, and walked to the stockpile of medication you had collected yourself helping Daryl on runs. "Please, only take what you are owed." Negan's men glared at you viciously, "We will take whatever we damn well please." Negan turned to face his men, "Now, we have a peaceful agreement here with the nice fuckin' doctor, get the supplies n lets go." You smiled at him, "Thank you for keeping your end of the bargain." Negan nodded, "I may be a fuckin' prick, but I am a man of my fuckin' word, ain't that all that fuckin' matters nowadays?" You nodded, waiting in silence for the men to complete their tasks.

After the men went through the supplies that laid before them, they pulled Negan to the side, obviously keeping their conversation private, one of them turning to you and flashing you a gut wrenching smile, you leaned on the gurney, waiting for the problem. Negan turned to you, scratching his chin, laughing lightly, "See doc, my men seem to really think that you've tried to short us this week," your eyes went wide, remembering what happened to the last person that tried to short Negan and his group, "I know you wouldn't fuckin' do that so can you just clear this shit up for us."

Scanning over the pages in front of you, "No," you cleared your throat, "I'm not short, its all documented here," you handed Negan the clipboard. As he scans over it, looking at your logs for every pill that comes in and out of this faux medical center, every date and name, the two men he placed with him rips your bag from your shoulders, dumping it out on the table, displaying the contents. Negan glances up, taking in the items on the table; a knife, a ripped up pack of spearmint bubble gum, a few pens, a small first aid kit, a few hair ties, stray items and a small leather bound notebook.

Negan slams the clipboard down, smiling at you, "I'll be damned she's fuckin' right boys, pack it up, it's all in the goddamned charts." You let out a breath of relief, a little worried to be Negan's next lesson. One of the men came close to you, pushing you backwards toward the gurney, "Don't test me bitch," backing away while still staring at you, he picked up your knife and waved it at you, "mine now, doll." The nickname reverberated evil inside you, at least when Negan did it, it felt at least flattering, but this man dripped poison from his words. At that though, Negan perked up, "Come on, shithead we've got things to do." You panicked, "No!" They all turned to you, "You cannot have my fucking knife," you backed up a little when the man stared you down, "please, it means a lot to me." The man started to say something, obviously furious you would even try ordering him, but Negan stopped him, taking the knife and handing it to you. The man he took the knife from grumbled and picked up your pack of gum, "Fuck you, keep your knife bitch, I'll take something sweet." Flashing you his smile, Negan was gone.

As you watched his trucks leave Alexandria, you finally returned to your work, cleaning up the mess his hooligans had made. Straightening the bottles, subtracting inventory, picking up your bag and sighing at the small amount of happiness you had as you realized that was the last pack of gum that you could find in a 50 mile radius. As you were putting away everything on the table, you started to move frantically looking for your notebook, under the table, around the table, even been looking all over the room. You couldn't find it. Your coping mechanism for the world moving at a pace that you just couldn't handle. A sense of dread washed over you as you realized, Negan.

He just couldn't help himself, just has to know what makes the good doctor fuckin' tick. Now, he just happens to have an all access pass to your thoughts in the zombie apocalypse. Humming to himself and relaxing into his seat, he peeled the book back at the marker for your most recent entry, picked a random nearby page and began reading.

April 23rd

celebrating yet another round of people. at some point I hit my limit, just can't keep meeting and greeting. feels pointless, I never see half of them, and when I do they normally die in my clinic. is this what it's become? death after death? mercy after mercy?

April 30th

every time someone dies in my clinic and I slide a knife through their skull it just reminds me this is how it will end for us all. we'll all just be the walking dead in the end. when's my turn? when do I get to finally stop running this rat race and throw in my damn towel? everyone else gets to say goodbye seems fair

Goddamn, Negan thought to himself, there's an entry here for every fuckin' day. He readjusted, taking in where they were at and how long he had to read for now, planning to figure out how you worked. No shame in wanting the pretty doctor.

May 4th

so fucking stupid, absolutely incompetent, couldn't even find antibiotics. couldn't find any gauze or even disinfectant. what a waste of gas, we're beginning to pick clean every building, car and trash can in a 50 mile radius. how long do we have left with the saviors breathing down our neck

May 12th

found some supplies, couldn't find enough, not enough, people treat the medicine like it's never ending but I just can't keep up there's nothing left, there has to be something that I can do, has to be something out there for me to find, it can't just be all gone, I'm not thinking of something, there is something out there I just have to be fucking smart enough to find it

May 15th

risk is worth the reward, I finally found some more antibiotics, and hit the fucking jackpot, found some chewing gum, melted Twix for Judith, and a knife for henry after I lost his in that horde, indescribable emotion when I had that first piece of gum that reminded me of how it used to be, when I was surrounded by support and family, gotta make it last

May 16th

henry was carried in by rick and daryl. henry was conscious, talking, don't let me turn, he begged. rick said he fell from a third story window. daryl grabbed alcohol and gauze, rick grabbed the stitch kit while I cut open henrys shirt, glass, at least two dozen pieces, please be manageable. I grabbed the tweezers and pour alcohol on henry's chest, his screams. half an hour in, he's seizing, rick grab buccal midazolam, place it in his mouth, hold him still until it stops, wait for a beat, no beat, cpr, one hundred twenty seconds in, can't let him turn, wait for beat, no beat, knife.

had to be something more.

henry was carried in by rick and daryl. henry was conscious, talking, don't let me turn, he begged. rick said he fell from a third story window. daryl grabbed alcohol and gauze, rick grabbed the stitch kit while I cut open henrys shirt, glass, at least two dozen pieces, please be manageable. I grabbed the tweezers and pour alcohol on henry's chest, his screams. half an hour in, he's seizing, rick grab buccal midazolam, place it in his mouth, hold him still until it stops, wait for a beat, no beat, cpr, one hundred twenty seconds in, can't let him turn, wait for beat, no beat, knife.

Negan shifted uncomfortably, this went on for at least ten pages, questioning every move you made, reliving putting down a good friend of yours, is this how you mourn?

May 17th

This is it. surrounded by death, my turn.

Fuckin' christ, Negan thought, now realizing that the good doctor is too fuckin' hard on herself. Realizing that you had your own horrible demons, and that this world is starting to get to you.

May 19th

Guess not.

Negan felt horrible for taking this, he felt like he had taken a piece of you, just trying to figure out which buttons to press to make you want him like everyone else, he definitely didn't expect this. He had to give it back, had to find a way to make it better, and he just might have a plan.

May 21st

You woke up feeling empty, just going through the motions, getting dressed, brushing out your hair, brush your teeth, quarter of a piece of gum- no. Walk to the clinic, not hungry today. You sat in your chair, clipboard on lap, staring at the door, waiting for your next victim to come through. After about two hours, you hear a few bikes pull into the gate and getting closer. Taking a peak out the window, you see Negan at your clinic doors with a relatively large backpack on, and the same two men he had with him yesterday, and an extra woman who you had never seen before.

Negan walked into your clinic, the woman standing at the door but not stepping in, and you couldn't do anything but get your knife out. "What the fuck are you doing back here?" You pointed the knife at him, not going to let him take anymore of your hard earned supplies. "You raided yesterday and stole from me! The kind of nerve a selfish prick like you-" Negan pulled out your book and an unopened pack of spearmint gum. You lowered your knife, looking at him like a confused puppy, and then jerked the book out of his hand, leaving the gum. "It's a fuckin' peace offering, doll," Negan held out the gum, but you didn't take it, just stared at him. "I don't want it, you don't get to take all of our lessening supplies and steal from me after I've been nothing but honest trying to keep our deal for no violence and then just come offering a pack of gum your henchmen stole from me! I worked for that! I worked for all of this! I was good to your men! I was good to you, Negan!" You started tearing up and turned away from him, mindlessly putting your journal back in your bag, sighing in great relief that it was returned to you.

"Doll, I didn't fuckin' mean to upset you, I didn't fuckin' know what it was-" Negan stepped closer, setting the bag he carried on your table, "it's not the only peace offering, I've got two more." He sat the gum next to the pack and took your place in the chair, spinning around. You emptied the pack, meds, gauze, a Twix bar, and a few cases of extra supplies. You immediately turned to him, eyebrows raised, "What's the fucking catch? Nobody gets anything from you without a catch." Negan smiled, scratching through his beard, that trouble causing smile, "You gotta come back with me." You scoffed, gawked at that. "Are you serious? You want me to come back with you, with the saviors? Why? That's not even possible, I-I'm needed here, I'm the only one whose been studying the medical books, only one that can tell their ass from their end, that's just stupid-" Negan stands and points to the woman at your door. "Cue the next fuckin' offering, Amelia. She knows what she's fuckin' doing, she's a good one and fuckin' despises my fine ass, so I know that your fuckin' people are in good hands. You only gotta come for a week, just a fuckin' week."

You sighed, not sure what to do, but only had seconds to figure it out, "Okay," you moved closer to him, "on two conditions." Negan smiled, turned on by your big balls of courage to demand something from the man who mercilessly beat the shit out of people with a barbed wire bat. "I have today to train her on how to keep things in order while I'm gone, and next week, you leave Alexandria alone, and no taking extra in two weeks, we get to keep our extra supplies for next week." Negan scoffed, unbelievable that you'd demand that, he's gotta run his own group, "Are you fuckin' joking sweetheart?" You laughed, packing up the supplies and giving the bag of supplies back to him, "No, I am not," you pulled back and crossed your arms, "so how bad do you want me, Negan?"

[basicjetsetter]

The Rise of Deus

♡ Pairing: Mob!Peter Parker x BlackFemale!Reader

♧ Setting: The Terrace Room in The Plaza Hotel, New York

♤ Warnings: Language, Adult Themes, Violence, +18 Smut (If you are under age, please do not read this).

♢ Word Count: 7.2k

☆ A/N: Okay, so I got a little carried away. This is such an indulgent mess, I love it to pieces. If you haven’t read The Fall yet, I suggest you read it before you get to this part. It takes a while to setup, but I promise it’ll be worth it.  Please hit like if you enjoy it, leave me a lil’ comment and a reblog if you love it. Happy reading! (P.S. I like these two characters so much, I might just write some more moments for them).

The game is in your hands. Exactly as planned.

♢ ♤ ♡ ♧

You’re not a great poker player.

In fact, compared to Peter and even Rumlow, your skills are subpar at best. The idea of betting everything on chance rankled the very fibers of your being, and you never could quite remember which hands beat which. But you were excellent at reading people.

It’s how you became New York’s best attorney. That, and because you were sharper than most people assumed you were.

Exhibit A: Rumlow.

You have to give it to him, though. He was initially difficult to read.

Earlier in the game, you tried to gauge his tells as he demolished Peter. Everyone reacts when they have a good or bad hand, whether they’re aware of it or not. As an attorney, you study your clients, plaintiffs, and sometimes the theoretically impartial jury for their tells—how they react to damning information, or rather, how they choose not to react.

The truth is in their eyes. The way they hunch their shoulders. Touch their face. Purse their lips. Breathe. Everything is a tell.

Rumlow’s whole personality screams dominant knowing, and he strategizes that way. Like he’s seen your hand before you even pick up the cards.

He plays too smart. And when he’s drunk, it becomes all the more apparent.

The way he rubbed his bottom lip before bargaining the final bet, slow and methodical, sealed the game against him. It’s not much to go off of for some, but for you, it’s more than enough. It’s a nervous habit—the movement confirming that his hand isn’t crap, but it isn’t the best, either.

You glimpsed down at your hand, then back up to Rumlow with a pleasant expression.

No, you aren’t a good poker player. But Peter is.

“Save your time, sweetheart. Let’s just get this over with,” said Rumlow, leaning back in his chair. It creaked under his muscular weight. “Fold.”

You arched an eyebrow, then crossed one leg over the other, causing the hem of your dress to ride up and show a decent amount of skin. “Don’t I get to place a bet of my own? You know, just in case my hand is better.”

Rumlow’s eyes predictably feasted on your exposed skin before he dragged them back up to your face. “What makes you think your hand is gonna be better than mine?”

“Indulge me, Brock,” you nearly purred, internally gagging as Rumlow’s breathing became labored. “If you know your hand is better, then you have absolutely nothing to worry about. I just want to have a little fun.” 

Part of you is grateful that Peter is handcuffed in the back of a police car, not here to witness your attempt at seduction. You needed to do it while Rumlow is still drunk enough to fall for it.

Rumlow contemplated your words for a split second, eyes dipping down once more to relish the sight of your skin while his thumb repeatedly ran over the top of his cards. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

He finally said, “Alright, I’ll bite. What’d you have in mind?”

Saccharine venom oozed into your words as you held a charming smile. “When I win, you’re going to give me $20 million, all of your inventory and routes to Peter, and I want your promise that the Scorpions will no longer operate in New York. You can go be someone else’s problem.”

The smug light fizzled out of Rumlow’s eyes, and his mouth hardened into a flat line. “Not going to happen.”

“And why not?” you asked innocently. You’re having way too much fun with messing with Rumlow’s head. “What’s so different about my demand from yours?”

“You don’t think you’re asking for too much?”

You leaned forward, letting your eyes slowly roam over his face before settling on his dark eyes, loving the way it made him uneasy, then said matter-of-factly, “Not at all. If you want everything from Peter, then I want everything from you. Only seems fair. That is, of course, if you want to renegotiate your previous proposal…?”

Rumlow sat up in his chair, staring too hard into your face. Searching for a crack in your armor. He wasn’t going to find anything that wasn’t already there. You’re sincere and know next to nothing about manipulating a game of luck, and it showed all over your face, clear as day. He’s got nothing on you.

“What is this?” He looked around the room as if there were hidden cameras on the walls, looked at the clueless faces of people spectating the game.

Tony muttered, “Well, this was supposed to be a party, but I’d say we’re miles away from that—ouch!” He groaned as Pepper elbowed him in the ribs.

“What do you think this is?” you questioned him back using the same inflection.

Rumlow’s head snapped back to face you, his eyes practically pitch-black. “A fucking setup.”

“It’s just a game, Brock. That’s all it is.” You’re surprised at how serene you sound because your heart is leaping around in your chest, about ready to burst free and fly away from the excitement of it all, but you’re conscious enough to keep the surprise off your poker face. “Do we have a deal or not?”

He filled his lungs with a ragged breath, expelling it out of flared nostrils. Pinched the bridge of his nose. Strategized. “$25 million. Everything else stays the same. His routes. His connections. You.”

You nod once. “And you accept my wager?”

Rumlow begrudgingly nodded. His knuckles turned white from clenching his cards.

“On three, we show our hands,” you said and waited, giving him one last chance to object. He doesn’t; he just keeps his hawk-like stare trained on you.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

You both turn your cards over at the same time.

Rumlow’s hand shows a Three, Four, Five, Six, and Seven, all clubs. Straight Flush.

Peter’s hand shows a King, Queen, Jack, Ten, and an Ace, all hearts. Royal Flush.

“Bullshit!”

Rumlow shot up from his chair, threw his cards to the floor, and snatched the gun from one of his men, aiming it at you.

Gasps filled the room, and you’re certain you heard Tony shout your name in alarm. Just as they’d done with Peter, the venue's guards raised their weapons at Rumlow and his men. 

You broke out into a fit of giggles. There were uncontrollable, bubbling from your lips and almost doubling you over. Maybe it was your nerves finally getting the best of you, or perhaps it was the dumbfounded shock on Rumlow’s face as he pulled a gun on you. Either way, you didn’t have a hope of taming them.

Rage intensified the crimson flush on Rumlow’s face. He barked out, “Why the fuck are you laughing?”

You struggled to pull it together. “Di-Did you honestly think you could beat Peter at poker, of all things? Seriously? I mean, don’t get me wrong. I knew you were dense, but geez.”

“He cheated. Ain’t no way he got that hand. Ain’t no fucking way.”

“Oh, come on,” you said, trying hard to stifle the giggles. “You said it yourself. Peter's a lucky son of a bitch.”

Rumlow took a minute to process the loss, eyes spacing out while the gun remained pointed at you. Your giggles died down as you sat patiently, drumming your fingers against your thigh and staring right back at the gun, uninterested. He wouldn’t shoot you. Not if he valued his life.

If Peter were here, you knew he’d be proud. Furious, yet proud.

At last, the arrogance returned to Rumlow’s smile, and he scoffed, “Congratulations, I guess. But um, I don’t really have to give you anything, you know. All bets have been word of mouth, nothing written down.”

Your smile never faltered. “Don’t do that, Brock. That isn’t how this works, and you know it. You were fully expecting Peter to hand me over to you with a nice, shiny gift bow taped to my ass and $25 million. Right? Or are you pointing a gun at me just because you feel like it?”

Rumlow shrugged with one shoulder. A hint of his anger traced his features before it faded back into an impassive mask.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m not giving you shit.”

You sighed dramatically. “Okay, fine. Be that way. But this is how it’s going to play out, regardless. You have three choices.” You ticked them off on your fingers. “One: You give me what I won and leave New York. Two: I sue your ass until you have nothing. Three: You get to deal with Peter. That last one won’t bode out too well for you.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, snickering. “And what you gonna sue me for, sweetheart? Gambling?”

Your eyes firmed into a severe gaze as you spoke. “I had a nice little chat with Miss Shuri Udaku earlier.”

The dark look passed over his eyes again. A thick mask of indifference tried to hide his culpability before you could spot it, but you didn’t even need to see it in his face. The guilt in his tightened shoulder blared like a blinking neon sign.

Bullseye.

You forged on. “Now, if what Shuri told me is true, which, guessing by the look on your face, it must be, you’re in deep shit. And I’ll take an educated guess and presume she isn’t the only one you’ve…spoken with.”

You paused for him to defy your assumption. He remained silent, his jaw grinding.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” you inquired with a faux mask of concern. “Did I hit a nerve?”

Rumlow’s eye twitched as he lowered the gun. Defeat heavy in his furrowed brows. “I’m gonna make you pay for this. You and him.”

“Just be sure to run me my money, first,” you said. A sly smirk curled up the corner of your mouth. “I want the whole amount by tomorrow, and I want you out of this state by the end of the week, got it?”

A snarl rumbled in his chest. “Got it.”

“Good,” you smiled brilliantly. “Now get your ass out of here. And take the Dynamic Duo with you.”

Everyone lowered their weapons as Rumlow and his two shadows stomped out of the Terrace Room. You watched their backs until they were no longer in your eyesight. It’s over. You won. A rise of applause swelled after the threat ultimately left the room, catching you off guard as you moved to retrieve Peter’s cards from the ground. You curtsied for them and offered a humbled grin.

A rush of adrenaline is humming through your veins, and it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. You’re positive you could scale the Empire State Building without so much as a harness, just running on pure pent up energy. Maybe you should do this kind of stuff more often.

Steve was the first to come up to you, confusion laced in his blue eyes. “We’re letting him go? Just like that?”

“Yes.”

“He pointed a gun at you!”

You brusquely scanned your unscathed body. “No harm, no foul, Lieutenant Rogers.”

“Jesus, you and that kid are a match made in Heaven,” Steve mumbled, shaking his head in shock.

“Wouldn’t be marrying him if we weren’t. And thank you for reminding me…” You trailed off, heading in the direction of Tony and Pepper.

You had to tell Tony the truth about you and Peter before your nerve wore off, or else you’d never find the courage to ever say it straight to his face. Even as you trudged over to him, a leaden ball of anxiety smothered your chest.

Shuri sprang at you without warning, tightly hugging you and jumping up and down as she squealed, “That was so awesome! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“It was nothing,” you said mirthfully.

“It was everything! That man’s been breathing down my neck for months about those weapons. I couldn’t turn a corner without seeing him. I can’t thank you enough.” As you broke apart, she handed you an embossed card. “If Peter is interested, I would love to have a meeting with him. Maybe we could all catch lunch.”

“He is definitely interested. I’ll be sure he calls you,” you assured, beaming her a friendly smile.

She nodded in agreement then waved her goodbyes, walking away to find her companions.

Everything always falls right into place for Peter.

You shook your head in awe as you made your way over to Tony and Pepper again, this time scanning your surroundings to ensure no one else ambushed you. Once you were close enough, they both threw their arms around your shoulders and pulled you into a protective embrace. 

“We’re so glad you’re okay, sweetie,” said Pepper as she rubbed a comforting hand up and down your back.

“Don’t you ever pull something like that again, you hear me?” Tony chastised, his tangible relief choking up your throat. He pulled away to look into your eyes thoroughly. “I almost had a heart attack watching that. How could you just stare at the guy as he held a gun to you? You didn’t flinch or anything. I swear you’re turning into a different person right before my—”

You blurted out, “I’m marrying Peter.”

Tony blinked and opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off, the floodgates bursting open as you spilled everything.

“He proposed three months ago, and I said yes because I am in love with him, Tony. I am in love with Peter Parker, and I know you hate his guts because of what he does, but I don’t care. And…” you stopped, sucking in a deep breath to steady your trembling words. “And I don’t care if me loving him means you hating me. You’re like a father to me, and I respect you, but I won’t continue to let you badger me about being with Peter.”

Tony interjected, “Woah, woah, woah, pump the brakes. Where did you get the idea that I’d ever hate you for being with Parker?”

Both you and Pepper raised an eyebrow at Tony, a universal look that easily translated to Your words said it all.

“Alright, sure, I never really liked the kid. He’s this devious little mastermind who circumvents the law to get what he wants and somehow even got you. But I can hate him and still love you, hon.”

You coughed up a laugh partly because of your relief and partly because of how ridiculous Tony was. “I want you to tolerate him at least. That means no more bringing up the fact that I am his Personal Attorney, no more threats of arrest, and no more nicknames.”

Tony sighed and said, “Okay to the first two, but I can’t make any promises for the nicknames. Baby-faced Criminal has a nice ring to it.”

Your smile brightened. “Deal.” You stepped back into his hug, pressing your face against his shoulder and exhaling. Finally, having the truth out in the open felt like releasing a breath you held in for three long months.

You heard Tony add, “ ‘Sides, I already knew you were engaged.”

“What?” you screeched, stepping back. “What do you mean you already knew?!”

“First of all, ouch,” Tony groused as he rubbed at the ear you accidentally screamed in. “Second of all, Pepper is not really that great at hiding wedding preparations as she thinks she is. And Parker came to me about four months ago.”

You’re so shocked you forgot to breathe, involuntarily pulling in a long drag of air as it dawned on you that your tormented lungs screamed for oxygen. “What—what do you mean Peter came to you?”

“Your young man thought it proper to ask me for my blessing before popping the big question, and I may have expressly told him to go swim in the Bermuda Triangle.” At your expression, he quickly added. “Well, he didn’t!”

“It’s just—He never told me that he asked.” You omitted the part where Peter held your refusal to tell Tony about the engagement against you. Tony wouldn’t understand Peter’s motives any more than you could. But you were going to make him explain himself. 

A brief impression of chagrin flashed in Tony’s eyes. “I admit I wasn’t that forthcoming about it. He probably thought it’d be better to keep it to himself than tell you I said no.”

That’s not what it was, but you hummed in agreement anyway.

“Welp, my party mood’s long gone,” Tony stated, unbuttoning his jacket and loosening his tie. “Anybody else up for some Shawarma?”

| Next Morning  |

Today wasn’t unlike any other day. Phillips told you your client's location, even though you both knew the area by heart. Third floor. Cell Block E. Number 7. Always Number 7. Lucky Number 7.

♢ ♤ ♡ ♧

One of the guards, a new hire with a tag reading Lang, shadowed you as you walked out of the detention center’s lobby and into the bustling dayroom, then up to Peter’s cell. An untrained eye wouldn’t notice the guard’s careful proximity, and an untrained ear wouldn’t hear his trepid footsteps. You knew better. 

Your fiancé is many things, and cautious just happens to be a large part of his make-up. None of the inmates lounging around the dayroom dared to glance your way, not because of the authoritative figure trailing behind you, but because of Peter and his imposing rap-sheet. 

While Lang’s presence was somewhat reassuring on your way around the crowded cells, you didn’t need the security detail. You weren’t afraid of anyone in this facility. The moment you propositioned to be his attorney, he should’ve known you weren’t one to be easily rattled.

When you stood in front of Peter’s cell door, Officer Lang moved up close enough to smack the door twice, then placed the key in the lock. As the heavy metal door swung open, you weren’t sure what you might see. 

He’s been away from the action, holed up in here all night. A tiny part of you expected Peter to be pacing the floor, running his hands through his hair and wringing them together in distress, beads of sweat trickling down his neck as he counted the seconds to your arrival. You wondered what it would be like to witness God panicking.

What you saw made you smile. Peter, sitting on his squalid mattress with his body propped up against the wall, his eyes closed and mouth slightly ajar, is sound asleep. Some of his brown curls are slightly lying over his forehead, giving him the perfect air of innocence.

Lang took a half step through the door, poked his head in the room, and loudly sang, “Wakey, wakey, Parker! You’re sprung.”

Peter jolted up from his position, looking around as if he forgot his bearings. The moment his eyes landed on yours, a sly smirk slid onto his lips, and the air of innocence vanished.

“Took you long enough.”

He got up from his bed with a low groan, stretching out the kinks in his neck. His dress shirt from last night is has a few more buttons open, exposing his black undershirt, and his shoes are in the corner of the room. The guards didn’t bother giving him a change of clothes because they knew he’d be out in less than 24 hours.

“I could always leave you in here, Mr. Parker,” you said, a small, teasing smile playing at your lips.

Peter grinned back at you, then retrieved his shoes. Lang stood against the wall like a statue, head forward and hands crossed in front of him. 

When he was out of the cell, and Lang locked the door behind him, Peter addressed Lang. “She can take it from here, Scott.”

And just like that, Lang’s stoic face melted into a rueful grin as he mockingly saluted Peter and walked off, leaving the two of you alone. 

Your mouth gaped for approximately two seconds before you caught on. “You hired him to play pretend-cop?”

“Oh no, Scott works here.” Peter slipped his shoes on and unbuttoned the rest of his dress shirt’s buttons. “He just also happens to work for me while working here.”

You wanted to ask how many Scotts he had in this facility but thought against it, deciding to quietly lead him out of the dayroom and into the lobby. No one acknowledged your departure. Every single one kept their heads down and tended to business as usual. 

Peter’s driver, Flash, leaned against the car, smoking a cigarette. Once he saw you both approach, he stamped it out and immediately opened the back seat door for you and Peter.

“Good morning, sir,” he said, always overly cheerful.

Peter clapped Flash on the shoulder and said, “Hey, man. How you doing?”

“Good, sir. Thank you for asking.”

“Dude, we talked about this. Stop calling me ‘sir’ so much. It’s getting weird.”

Flash automatically nodded, saying, “Right, sorry about that,” before closing the door behind Peter. He’d call Peter ‘sir’ again by tomorrow.

Peter groaned in instant satisfaction as he sank into the leather seat. It’s a low and throaty sound, and you felt its vibrations all the way to your core, leaving a flustered mess for longer than you’re proud to say. Two years you’ve been with this man, and the lust hasn’t dimmed.

Peter got right to the point. “So, how’d it go?”

You smirked contentedly, flattening your hands across the lap of your pencil skirt. “You are $20 million richer. And you have the Scorpions’ trading routes and connections, along with a guarantee eviction by the end of the week.”

“20 million… Damn, baby, I knew you were a hustler, but that’s in-fucking-sane!” Peter whooped, turning in his seat to face you fully. His face radiated with excitement. “I bet Rumlow’s pissed.”

“Oh, yeah. He was pissed, alright. He tried renegotiating, then tried to worm out of it. It was fun to watch him squirm.” You’d never mention the part where Rumlow pulled a gun on you to Peter. Not because you cared for Rumlow’s safety in any way, but because you’ve seen how Peter reacts when someone threatens his loved ones, and you never want him to go down that dark tunnel again.

Peter leaned his head against the headrest and wistfully said, “Wish I could’ve been there. Stark didn’t give you a hard time for gambling, did he?”

The topic shift smacked you with the remembrance of what happened last night, what Tony had said. It shouldn’t have kept you up all night, but you tossed and turned with the nagging fact that Peter both hid his confrontation with Tony and had the nerve to pester you about not telling Tony something that he already knew.

For a while, you stayed up wondering why Peter even brought it up at dinner. What was his purpose? Why act cold towards you if there wasn’t a reason? Or was it even an act? Did he genuinely resent you that much for being anxious about telling Tony? Would you ever see that side of Peter again? So indifferent, so cruel. So quick to discard you.

The rest of the night, you replayed over and over how he ignored you, how he minimized you. That wasn’t part of the plan. Most of what happened before the cards got into your hands played out unexpectedly, and you understood why that had to be at some degree, but the ambiguity of it all ticked you off. Did he not trust you?

When he dismissed you, you actually thought about leaving him there alone. Was that not real?

That ache in your chest was real.

“Babe?” Peter waved his hand in front of your face. “Babygirl? What’s wrong? What’d I say?”

You couldn’t bring your eyes up to meet his. They strayed to your lap, refusing to move even as Peter hesitantly took hold of your chin with his thumb and index finger. He emphatically called your name a few times, worry intensifying more and more as an unspecified amount of time passed. Peter never dropped his hand. His thumb caressed your chin while he waited for you to speak, knowing you would.

The desire to verbalize took longer than you expected. There just didn’t seem to be a right way to say what was weighing on your mind. Outright confronting him with only inference to go off of felt childish, but so did beating around the bush. You ultimately chose to address the subject of your silence.

In a tense voice, you said, “Tony told me that you asked for his permission to marry me.”

About thirty seconds ticked away. Peter sighed, “Are you upset that I didn’t tell you?”

You nibbled on your lower lip, then brought your eyes up to meet his. Mild concern drowns his warm brown eyes, somehow increasing their depth, and frown lines creased his forehead. If this were one of your typical squabbles and he stared at you with those damn eyes, you’d have been a goner.

“No.” You shook your head to clear the effect of his gaze. “I’m upset that you asked Tony and then proceeded to act like I had an obligation to tell him something you already told him. And then you got so mad about it last night…” you trailed off in a whisper, recalling his restrained animosity, something you never thought you’d experience with him.

“I wasn’t actually mad,” he rushed.

“So you were pretending?” You asked lamely, feeling the ghost of last night’s ache lash around in your chest. “All that wasn’t real? Ignoring me? Snatching your arm away from me? Dismissing me?”

He insistently shook his head, brown curls swaying across his forehead. “None of it.” 

To you, the truth is almost as bad as the lie.

“It felt real to me.” Your voice sounds so small, it’s humiliating. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, severing the eye contact again. “The fact that you couldn’t just tell me that that’s what you were doing beforehand makes me feel like… like you don’t trust me. Like you’re willing to sacrifice my feelings for some stupid game. Like I’m a pawn.”

“Fuck,” Peter cursed, running a swift hand through tousled his hair. “No, baby, that’s not it. Come ‘ere.” 

Peter reached over the divider and pulled you into his lap despite your attempt to scoot away. You didn’t want him holding you, consoling you because even if you tried your hardest to resist him, an irrational part of your brain would immediately relent to his closeness.

You stiffened at the touch of his hand rubbing small circles on your lower back, then loudly to clear your throat. “What is it, then?” You spoke to him as if he were one of your clients. Professional. Distanced. But you couldn’t look into those eyes.

“I was giving you an alibi,” he confessed, not fazed by your tone. “In case anything went wrong. We needed to look distant so Rumlow wouldn’t catch on to how coordinated everything was.”

Okay, that’s nowhere near the answer you were expecting. Because, of course Peter would come up with a convoluted explanation that only made sense to him. Irritation rose in you like a brewing storm as you peered straight into his eyes, ignoring the visceral pull as they locked on you.

“Did it ever occur to you that I’m a grown-ass woman who can handle shit by herself? I didn’t need a fucking alibi, Peter,” you said, indignation souring your tone. “What, did you think I was going to fuck up that bad?”

“No,” said Peter firmly. When you scoff, he persists. “I mean it. I was just—I was just trying to look out for you.” He held your chin again, applying a slight amount of pressure to keep your eyes on him. “I’m sorry. You’re right, you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself, and I love that about you. Sometimes, though, I want to be there for you as much as you’re there for me, if not more.”

You stubbornly held your tongue. You’re not going to cave with a simple apology… no matter how sincere it sounded.

Peter leaned in closer, poorly hiding his smirk as he heard your breath hitch while his lips skimmed up your neck. “I’m sorry, baby,” he murmured against your skin. “I apologize for not considering your feelings.” He placed a tiny kiss on the crook of your neck, trailing the tip of his nose against your jawline. “I’m sorry for keeping you in the dark.”

An undeniable heat flickered to life within you, building as Peter’s actions grew enticingly bold. The pads of his fingers glide up and down your stocking-clad thighs, and each motion brought his hands down further and further until his whole, warm palms flattened down to massage your calves and thighs. Unknowingly, you inclined your neck to allow him to access a larger expanse of your skin.

Any resolve you cemented against Peter crumbled as a pair of lips outlined the shell of your ear. His voice comes out hoarse when he speaks, hoarse and deliberate. “I trust you with everything I have. You know that, don’t you?” His lips hover dangerously near yours.

You exhaled out a breathy, “Yes.” You do know that. He wouldn’t trust anyone else to hold those cards but you, wouldn’t trust anyone else bargaining with his assets but you.

Peter held your lowered gaze steady as he hooked his hands under your thighs and hoisted you up so you fully straddled him, your pencil skirt elastic enough to permit marginal movement. A low whine emitted from your throat as he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, then pulled away to stare at you, using the full force of his immorally brown eyes.

“Can you forgive me?”

It’d be as simple as sin to whimper out a pathetic affirmative and let him off scot-free. Excruciatingly simple. You knew he meant every word, and you were glad he let you express your anger before apologizing. You wanted to forgive him. But your mind currently wasn’t on the same circuit as your mouth, refusing to utter a single word, wondering where that would get you.

“Hmm,” Peter hummed pensively, contemplating while a predatory grin crept onto his lips. “Guess I gotta work for it, then.”

♢ ♤ ♡ ♧

Your back arched up off the bed, and you toss your head back as you gutturally cried out Peter’s name for the fourth time.

The moment you two entered the house, Peter was on you, guiding you to the bedroom with his lips attached to yours and his hands groping your backside. His hands never left your body, and once they did, it was only to tear off his clothes. You weren’t sure what you signed up for, but something glinting in Peter’s eyes, an erotic passion you’ve encountered several times in your relationship, bespoke of an intense afternoon headed your way.

Before you could even guess what that might entail, you were lying on your back in the middle of the bed, and Peter was parting your legs open.

Currently, his grip on your bucking hips remains vice-like as he keeps his face planted between your quaking thighs, still lapping up the rest of your orgasm and staring you dead in the eyes with wicked lust.

Each time he made you cum, he’d huskily ask, “You forgive me?” The first time, you were cheeky, shaking your head with a tiny pout on your lips and eagerly wiggling your hips and tugging on the silky strands of his hair for more. The second time, your body ached wonderfully, and you lazily nodded your acceptance of his apology, but he didn’t stop, tightening his hold on the swells of your hips and delving his tongue through your silken folds. By the third time, you were religiously chanting, “I forgive you,” grasping the sheets for dear life as Peter solely sucked on your clit and salaciously groaned into your core.

On the fourth orgasm, your whole body is aflame, your fingers are desperately clutching Peter’s wrists, and you’re a blissed-out, gibbering mess with tears of ecstasy streaming out the corners of your eyes.

“You forgive me?” Peter rasped, his breath fanning against your sensitive skin. He alternately kissed your inner thighs, sometimes gently sucking the skin until he left stinging love bites.

Knowing words were well beyond your reach, your jerkily bobbed your head up and down, gulping in air to calm your heaving chest.

A whine of relief breaks free when Peter finally lets go of your hips and leads a sloppy trail of kisses up your abdomen, between the valley of your breasts, along your neck, your jawline, until he claims your lips in a sensually slow kiss, one that stole away your regained breath. You mewled into it, wrapping your arms around his neck and threading your fingers through his hair. He lowered his body on top of yours, deliciously suffocating you with his body heat and his scent—an intoxicating aroma of smoky spice you only associate with Peter.

Your brain treads on a fine line near oblivion. All your mind can comprehend is Peter. His soft little grunts in your mouth, his toned chest brushing against yours, his hardened cock against your stomach as he ruts into you.

“I want you,” you panted, wanton need thick in your voice. You’re entirely spent, but you couldn’t help but crave more of Peter, couldn’t help but want him to thoroughly build you up only to tear you down all over again. 

Peter teasingly nipped at your lips, mumbling, “Where do you want me?”

You let out an impatient, low-pitched groan. “Inside me, baby. Please, Peter.” Your hips angled up on their own accord, grinding your dripping core against his cock. “Please, fuck me.”

His eyes rolled back, mouth slightly agape, and his face pinched in pleasure—what a pretty sight. Your eyes drank him all in. You loved the way he squinches up his eyes, almost as if all the sensations are too much to process. You loved how the flush creeping up his neck turned his skin a lovely scarlet. You loved watching him try to be attentive to you while being so engrossed in his own bliss.

Unhurried, Peter took himself in his hand, then slid his length through your folds before guiding his tip to your entrance. He always liked to draw this moment so he could hear the desperate noises you’d make for him. Your whole body sang out for him, from the broken moans spilling from your lips to the constant, stuttering pitch in your hips. 

At an agonizingly slow pace, Peter slid inside of you, hissing out a drawn-out Fuck. You jumped and gasped at the slight sting as he stretched you out, gripping onto his biceps and clenching around him as the sting built up to a toe-curling burn of ecstasy. 

He stroked into you with painstaking emphasis, hitting a deep spot within you that brought stars to your vision while capturing your lips in a blistering kiss. Your hands held his face as the kiss deepened, both of you moaning into each other’s mouths in carnal abandon. Yeah, it definitely tops the sex you had on the night he proposed.

Peter broke the kiss to dip his head down and favor the skin on your neck. His voice is a low murmur when he speaks, barely louder than your gasping breaths. “You forgive me?”

You practically sob out, “Yes! Yes, baby, I forgive you.” The flames are multiplying, licking up from your lower region and engulfing you as his strokes rock steadily. 

“You know you’re my everything,” he grunted, sucking down hard on your skin and laving it with his tongue after you yelp his name.

Your heart flutters as you moan, “Yes.”

“Say it, baby,” Peter mumbled, an undercurrent of firmness in his voice. “I wanna hear you say it.”

“I’m your everything.” The things this man does to you…

“Good girl.” Peter’s hand wedged between your entwined bodies, reaching down to rub your overstimulated clit, watching the tremors shaking through your body as your mouth hung open in a silent moan. “I want you to remember that,” he ordered. “You’re my everything, and I’m sorry I”—grunt—“Fuck, I’m sorry I hurt you.”

He carefully collects you in his arms before rolling over and putting you on top, wrapping his arms around your back so your bodies remain pressed together. Some of your twists cascade on either side of Peter’s face, but he doesn’t mind, keeping his head buried in the crook of your shoulder as he pumped up his hips, deeply thrusting into you. 

“You feel so good, babygirl,” Peter said roughly, his hips picking up into a bruising speed. “So wet for me.” His hands slide down your back and squeeze your ass. “Always take me so well.”

All you could manage were needy, shameless whimpers in response as his dirty words, his scorching touch, his soft lips, his slick body against yours all sent you reeling towards a rapturous release. Every stroke brings you closer to the edge, and you know Peter isn’t far behind.

With some effort, you drag yourself up to sit on Peter’s cock and brace your hands on his chest, lolling your head back as the new angle allowed him to hit a deeper spot within you.

Peter admired you through half-lidded eyes. “So fucking beautiful.”

You mustered up a beaming smile for Peter, then set your focus on riding him with the little energy you had left, slowly bouncing up and down on his thick length and loving the quick hitch in Peter’s breath as you took control. You wanted to see him writhe underneath you as he came inside you, wanted to see his pretty lips part as he called out your name. You’re so close, it’s maddening, but you’re waiting for Peter to fall off the edge with you. 

As soon as Peter’s hips began to chase yours in a broken pattern and a repeated mixture of your name and fucks streamed out of his mouth, your climax slammed into you, slightly choking you up as you came with a high-pitched, quivering gasp and cried out, “Peter!”

Peter’s crashed down on him with the same force. His hips stalled for an instant before jerking up into you one last time, your name tumbling from his lips in a hoarse groan as he filled you with his hot, sticky cum. It feels as if you’re riding the wave of your orgasm for hours, and you blissfully drown in it. Savor it. Bask in the absolute pride of knowing that this man is yours and yours alone even though you have yet to seal it with the promise of ‘for as long as you both shall live.’

The comedown is a sluggish process, like trying to swim the length of a 10-foot pool of honey. Your heart rate is the first to slow down into a stable rhythm, then the raucous hum singing in your body simmers down to a delicious buzz whose sole purpose is to remind you of the five breathtaking orgasms Peter drew out of you. Every part of your body aches when you merely think about moving, so you cave and slump onto Peter’s torso, eliciting an amused oomph from Peter as he wraps an arm around your waist. When he pulls out of you, his cum smears a sticky trail in between your thighs.

Peter brushes away some of your twists from your face to press a gentle kiss to your perspired forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you echo back, leaning up a little to peck his jawline. You snuggle up closer so your head rested on his shoulder. “And I really do forgive you. Your intentions were pure, and I know you were just trying to protect me.” You reach up and grab his chin, making him look into your eyes. “But I want your complete trust, Peter. Trust that I can handle things on my own.”

“From this point on, you have my whole trust,” Peter promised. He took hold of your hand, entwined your fingers together, and then put your hands over his heart. Its slow thud matched yours. “You have my word. No more alibis.”

You laughed tiredly. “Thank you.”

For a while, you two just stayed in each other’s embrace, your eyes falling as Peter’s finger lazily traced an infinity sign around your knuckles. You’re still buzzing, and you know you should roll out of bed to wash up, but you try to save these soft moments in your memory, to help remind you of the kind man who can be, at times, too cruel for words. That’s when he’s Deus. Right now, he’s your Peter.

Seconds away from succumbing to sleep, a thought occurs to you, and you quietly ask, “Hey, babe?”

Peter sounds wide awake. “Yeah?”

“Did Tony literally tell you to go swim in the Bermuda Triangle when you asked him for his approval?”

He snickered. “I believe his exact words were, ‘Go to hell, Parker. Better yet, why don’t you do us all a favor and take a swim in the Bermuda Triangle, and become a cold case?’”

Geez, Tony. You bit your lip. “And you still asked me to marry you anyway, even though he didn’t approve?”

“I was going to, regardless,” Peter murmured, and you could hear a smile in his words. “I just wanted to try and, you know, see if I could make you a little happier. Me and Stark bump heads a lot, and I saw how it upset you, so I thought asking him for his permission would get us on the right track to some sort of civility. Wanted it to be a surprise if he did say yes.”

Unexpected tears gathered in your eyes, and your chin wobbled. He tried for you. Had been trying for you. He even noticed how his and Tony’s bouts caused you to be anxious about your future together and tried to mend the stupid rift between them, for your sake. You aren’t going to lie and say that you’re glad Tony refused. You wished with your whole heart that he could clearly see how much you loved Peter. But, from now on, you’re no longer going to be scared of what Tony thinks of Peter. You love him, and he most certainly loves you, and that’s all that matters.

You scooch up a little more and capture his lips in a deep, passionate kiss. He’s only caught off guard for a second before kissing back, wrapping both of his arms around your waist. When Peter felt the wet tear tracks on your cheeks, he brought up his hands and wordlessly wiped them away.

As you pulled apart, you rested your forehead against his and said, “I can’t wait to marry you, Mr. Parker.”

Peter lightly rubbed the tip of your nose with his, replying, “I’m already yours, Mrs. Parker.”

[meher-sumedha]

Gwynriel Headcanon : Demons

Writing this at midnight even though I have a maths exam tomorrow. Slight TW of maybe a mental disorder. Also I feel like we don't talk enough about Gwyn's trauma, cause in this I mentioned it, a lot. But fluff too.

Gwyn was mad. Gwyn was made and furious with Azriel. But most of all, she was sad. Not angry, just sad. Sad to be rejected once more. Sad to be just a person who was a 'side girl'. Upset with the fact that she didn't work hard enough to nurture their friendship.

Sad with the fact that she wasn't enough. She spent an hour crying in her room. Her heart felt like it had been broken into a million more pieces after finally being broken. Being rejected by your mate, hell the one person you loved the most, hurt like hell.

Why wasn't I enough? Why wasn't I enough? Could I have done something to prevent him leaving me? Why not me and her? What's the difference between us? And a sad and lonely voice in her answered, because no one can fall in love with you.

You have too much baggage, which no one wants to bear. You came into this world alone, you're going to live alone, and you're going to die alone. You are nothing, you are just an illusion. Your sisters don't love you, only the illusion you put up for them-

And Gwyn ran out of her room and down the 10000 stairs of the house leading to Velaris. Illusion. Illusion. Illusion. The word kept repeating itself in her mind.

Illusion of being the perfect girl. Illusion of being the girl next door. Illusion of being the sweet girl. Illusion. Illusion. ILLUSION! And the next thing she knew, was that the dark side of her mind took over.

It laughed. She heard the laugh in her mind. She knew it was taking over now. She continued down the steps of the house. Stop! Stop! Please, just please, please stop, she begged her thoughts. But it looked like her thoughts weren't hers anymore, they were demons.

Demons she thought that she had buried a long time ago. The voice laughed, and started, and that's when Gwyn knew, she was not in control anymore. She tried to prevent it from taking over her mind, yet she was too weak now. And then the horror began.

You think your sisters love you? They only love the girl who has no demons. They think you're perfect. You've not exactly told them what happened that night in Sangravah, what do you think will happen when you do?

They'll leave you, finally seeing the pathetic girl you are. Everyone will leave. Like your mate has. You know it's ironic that you let your sister die in front of you, that you chose someone else before your own blood sister-

but they were-were gonna kill the children, I- I didn't have a choice-, Gwyn tried speak but the voice was faster. Oh we both know that's not true Gwyneth. And anyways, karma's a bitch.

Azriel left you when you needed him the most, just like you left your sister to die when she needed you the most. You're a traitor, a half breed, a slut who couldn't save herself or her sister, you're nothing, you don't deserve anyone or anything-

And that voice stopped only when Gwyn opened the door and ventured into Velaris. It was raining. Endless tears were running from Gwyn's eyes, that voice had stopped, but it's effect, it was still there, rippling like water when a stone is thrown in it.

Suddenly breathing was tough. Gwyn kept walking, trying to breathe, trying to get a grip but it wasn't working, it wasn't working. Panic attack, Gwyn realized. No no no no no, not now please please no.

It felt like the world was suffocating her, that it was trying to drown her in endless darkness. She didn't even realize when she ran into Azriel's back and kept walking. "I- I'm sorry, " She said and tried to move away but then Azriel turned around.

No no no no, it couldn't be him it couldn't be him. He- he's gonna see her broken and run, he'd run and never come back, and she'd never be able to catch up to him. It again felt like the world was enveloping her, cause it was.

Please, please just stop STOP! She begged her mind, her heart, anyone that would listen. And she could've heard that evil voice in her head feel sad, before it said I'm sorry Gwyneth.

And then someone was shaking her. Azriel, she realized. Their voice started growing louder and louder and "GWYN, GWYN! ARE YOU OKAY? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING AT 4AM IN THE MORNING HERE!" And suddenly it all came back to Gwyn, she was in Velaris, with her mate in front of her.

She then looked up to meet his gaze, gaze full of worry. Once she'd think that he actually cared, not now, not ever.

"I- I'm ok" She said and try to move but Azriel kept his grip firm on her forearm and forced her to meet his gaze. She could see his eyes worried, pitying her, she realized.

Gwyn tried to move again but Azriel held firm. She could hear the rain, could hear the little steps of everyone, could hear his racing heartbeat matching her own.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his voice now firm. Gwyn darkly chuckled, and said, "Oh of course I am. You refuse to give me my memories. My mate rejected the bond, and my demons love to take over without any invitation. Well why does that matter, how are you Azriel? Enjoying your life with Elain?

If yes, then please let me leave for I am too busy having a panic attack to engage in small chitchat." And sarcasm dripped like venom from her voice. She was mad, and she didn't give a damn now.

"Gwyn I- I didn't reject the bond" And Gwyn laughed again, and again said sarcastically, "Oh is that supposed to be a prize? Why thank you shadowsinger for not rejecting the bond. Would you like me to do that for you too?"

And the pain was seen clearly on Azriel's face, she knew he was shocked and upset by her words, good, he deserved it.

He let her go then, but Gwyn didn't leave. She was about to when Azriel said, "I lied" And Gwyn would have laughed this time too, if she had not seen the seriousness in his face. "Lied about what? Wanting to be my friend-", "I lied about me and Elain. She's happily living in the day court with her mate, Lucien."

Oh. Oh. "You knew she had a mate and yet you still tried to persue her?" And Azriel looked away when Gwyn said those words.

She then noticed a nearby bench, and sat on it. He knew what it felt like, to be rejected, she realized. And so she patted the space beside her, inviting him to sit.

He came towards her, but warningly. And when he sat down beside her, she put her elbows on her knees, bended a bit forward and looked at him. "So you know what it's like to be rejected." She said, as a statement not a question.

Azriel mirrored her position and said, "I do know what it's like to be rejected." And Gwyn wanted to smack his face for that. She contemplated saying the next line, but thought, fuck it, he's a liar and he hurt me and said, "So you rejected me knowing how painful it feels to be rejected?"

And Azriel shifted in his seat, and then said, "I didn't reject you because of you Gwyneth, I rejected you because of me. I- I-" And he didn't complete the sentence. But Gwyn understood, so she completed it for me, "You didn't think you deserved me."

And Azriel looked at her with an unrecognizable emotion in his eyed and said, "Yes, I don't think I deserve you." And Gwyn actually chuckled at that. And when she saw the confused expression on Azriel's face, she explained further, "Well you know it's ironic. Even I feel I don't deserve you-", "Oh" Was all Azriel said.

And after a few minutes, she said, "We're both complete dumbasses aren't we?" And Azriel chuckled, "I- I agree, we're both complete idiots."

And after a few moments of silence and simply looking at each other's grinning faces, Azriel said, "I'm sorry for ignoring you and rejecting you." Gwyn chuckled and replied, "It's okay, as long as you don't do it again."

And then suddenly out of the blue, Azriel asked with sudden seriousness, "Are you seeing someone?" And Gwyn smiled and asked, "What if I was?", "Well are you?" Azriel asked urgently and Gwyn laughed. "Okayyy calm down lover boy, I'm not" And she saw a deep pink blush creep up on his cheeks.

And just to play with him a little more, she started playing with his hair, and his blush deepened even more. "I love making you blush" Gwyn said she could've sworn his cheeks became even pinker. And then she removed her hand from his hair and said, "I'll make a deal with you. We don't ignore each other. We date each other and we live happily ever after."

And Azriel laughed at that. Gwyn then put out her hand, "Deal?" and Azriel raised an eyebrow, "Are you really the daring shadowsinger everyone calls you, or are you just a pussy?" Gwyn daringly asked, and Azriel said, "I am no pussy" And shook her hand, "Deal" And suddenly an invisible bind passed through them. They'd struck a bargain, and Gwyn laughed while Azriel cursed beautifully under his breath.

And then Azriel asked, "Wait What about our friendship?", "Oh please, we're barely friends. I totally look at your ass all the time and you look st mine. So I'm pretty sure our "friendship" Is pretty fucked up."

Azriel just smiled at her, his mate, his best friend. A person whom he loved dearly, and would do anything for. They then got up, hand in hand, and then took off for flight. They kept looking at each other, Gwyn because she was too competitive to back down from a challenge, and Azriel because he was mezmerized by her beauty.

And one day, Gwyn thought, she'd actually tell him, that she was not staring at him because of a competition, but because she knew she was genuinely falling in love with him.

Azriel walked Gwyn to her room in the House of Wind, and they'd just stood there, looking at each other. Until Gwyn spoke up and asked, "tomorrow 8pm?" And Azriel smiled and repeated it, confirming their first date, "tomorrow 8pm". He was just about to walk away when Gwyn threw her hands around his neck.

He didn't understand what she was doing until she started to move away, she was hugging him, he realized and immediately put his arms around her waist, his head in her hair, smelling it, he realized, and memorizing the scent.

And before moving away, she kissed him slightly on his cheeks and went in her room and closed her door. Gwyn leant against the inside of her door and sighed happily.

Azriel just stood in front of the door for an hour, replaying the scene over and over again. Replaying their night over and over again. He then walked back to his room, grinning like a little boy in love.

He would never wash that cheek again, for Gwyn had kissed him. Gods, that woman was going to be the death of him.

[ezwhump]

Pete’s Visit pt 1 - Russ & Lennon - pet whump, ‘it’ as a pronoun, deconditioning, mention of infertility.

There was a new car in the driveway.

Lennon heard the door shut from Russell’s office and waited until Russell got up to go and investigate, following close behind and stopping himself from grabbing at the hem of Russell’s t-shirt.

When they got to the bottom of the stairs, adjacent to the entryway, Russell turned and bent down a little so he could meet Lennon’s eyes.

“Remember how I said my brother was coming for a visit today?”

Lennon nodded, already twisting his hands into his shirt, nerves spiked. A dark silhouette was moving in the obscured window at the top of the front door, muffled voices talking.

A knock sounded and Lennon flinched.

“Well, he���s here, with his wife. She’s really nice. Are you alright if I let them in?”

Russell was almost crouched, watching Lennon’s face for any sort of bitter turn of the mouth, listening for panicked breath. He wanted the kid to be as prepared as he could be, and had asked Pete for at least a week’s notice before any travel plans were made.

Lennon nodded, once, and that was enough for Russell. He smoothed Lennon’s hair and gave him two soft pats on the cheek before turning to open the door.

Pete was the same height as his older brother. Lanky where Russell held stock and muscle, his hair more of a fox-pelt red, eyes lazy-lidded and a sharp blue. When he spoke, his voice was dulcet and clear.

“Trust you to get more out of a middle-man than you bargained for, eh?”

Lennon watched as Russell moved in for an easy hug which turned into a joking tussle, both of them laughing, the sound identical. A woman stepped in behind Pete, ducking her head in first, the rest of her following. She had the same sort of frame as the old trailer landlady, squat and heavier around the middle, tapering up to slender shoulders and then down to a pair of small ballet flats, her hair in a soft, blonde bun puddled at the nape of her neck. She seemed more interested in the house than Russell, and it made Lennon sour towards her a little.

“Kit, a pleasure.” Russell enveloped her in a bear hug and she patted him fleetingly on the shoulder, her hand dwarfed by his broad back.

“Where is it, then?”

Pete’s eyes were on Lennon, who was standing politely on the bottom step of the stairs, breathing in the colder air that had rushed in from outside. He felt like he was caught in a bear trap.

Russell led them into the living room and Lennon followed, trying to keep as close to Russel as possible, dutifully sitting on the carpet by the armchair, eyes level to the glass coffee table. He’d made sure to ask Russell permission when he was first told of their visit. Russell had been hesitant at first, but acquiesced once Lennon explained that it would make him feel better.

Pete gracefully lounged back on the left side of the sofa and Kitty took the other, crossing her ankles and flitting her gaze from Russell to Lennon, and back again. Lennon’s stomach gurgled and he only straightened his posture, trying not to turn his head back and catch Russell’s eye.

It felt like they were in a business meeting.

“You want something to eat, kid?”

Lennon looked back, instinctively, and Russell gave him an effortless smile. Almost like hey, it's okay, they won’t bite. And surely if Pete was Russell’s family then he wasn’t in bad company. They had similar features, a similar voice; it wouldn’t be hard for Lennon to rely on the common traits to ease his racing mind.

“I’m alright, sir, but thank you.”

Kitty seemed to brighten a little, she sat forward in her seat.

“Oh, he’s southern! How quaint.” She sounded whispery, like she was recovering from a cold, or a crying bout.

Pete spoke up. “You can talk to it, Kitty. In fact, I should catch Russ up on a few things, if you wouldn’t mind rustling something up in the kitchen?”

Kitty’s open smile shrunk into a demure tilt of the lips and she nodded, moving into the kitchen and gesturing for Lennon to follow. He looked back to Russell who nodded, already clocking the silent request for permission. He’d been getting better at reading Lennon lately.

“Be right back. Russ.”

Russell bit back a smile and turned his attention to Pete once Lennon had left his side.

Pete stretched languidly, propping up his foot on his knee and rotating his head till his neck clicked a little.

“She’s been a little temperamental since the bad news. It's nothing that can’t be fixed with a quick trip to Cabo but she’s been a real pain in my ass these last few weeks.”

His tone was conversational, but Russell knew there was something underneath. Something he was counting on Russell to bring up if he dropped enough hints.

“Bad news?” Russell offered.

Pete waved a dismissive hand and rolled his eyes in the direction of the kitchen. Cupboards opened and closed, silverware clinked.

“Can’t have kids. Which wasn’t even in the cards to begin with, but her being bummed out doesn’t make for an easy life, y’know?”

Russell recoiled and then fixed his face. “Jesus, Pete. Kids aren’t all that bad.”

His brother gave a derisive snort and shook his head. “Like you’d know. Although I bet having a pet put a dent in your plans, huh.”

It took a moment for Pete to realize his brother wasn’t going to dignify him with a response so he tried again, digging in a little this time.

“I mean,” he paused, flicking his eyes up to Russell’s, “it's gotta be a handful. Most pets are whiny bitches in my experience.”

Russell’s voice was low, a vicious kind of quiet. “How about this, talk about him like that again and I’ll dig out your fuckin’ eyes with a rusty spoon.”

Pete threw up his hands in a surrendering gesture and laughed humorlessly. “Hey, you don’t gotta go all Boston on me, I’m just saying. It’s an inconvenience at least, a thorn in your side at most. That can’t be ideal, right?”

Russell looked to the kitchen and then back to Pete, getting up out of the armchair and moving towards the doorway. His brother was satiated, having rubbed salt in the wound, for now.

“You’re a piece of shit, Pete.”

Kitty was at the stove, stirring milk and butter into a pot of macaroni, Lennon sitting at the kitchen island and fiddling with the box.

“You gotta let it cook for a little longer so it's not too hard for him,” Russell said softly, moving up behind Kitty and taking the spoon from her. “I’ll finish up. You can make yourself some tea if you want.”

Kitty busied herself, putting the kettle on and setting out a couple of bowls. She turned to Lennon and held up a fork and a spoon. “You have a preference, sweetie?”

Russell didn’t look up from the macaroni. “Spoon. Fork’s too pointy.”

“Hm, he could’ve told me.” Kitty put the spoon in one of the empty bowls and then made her tea, humming softly into the quiet kitchen air. “It’s a little gloomy in here, what with the lights off.”

“He likes it that way,” Russell said, turning to Lennon while he spooned out the macaroni into the bowls. “Huh, kid.”

Lennon smiled, lowering his eyes to the island. “Yessir.”

Kitty’s eyebrows lifted a little, but she seemed nonplussed as she took the seat next to Lennon, cupping her hands around the steaming mug.

“So you like living here?”

Lennon looked at her, or somewhere behind her, and nodded.

Russell felt immensely grateful towards his sister-in-law at that moment, giving him this chance to glean what was going on in Lennon's head.

“He doesn’t bore you?” She asked, inclining her head towards Russell.

Lennon slid the bowl of macaroni over to himself and mixed it around with the spoon, mulling over his answer. Russell stood on the other side of the island and shoveled down his bowl to give Lennon the chance to speak.

“He’s the nicest master I’ve ever had, ma’am.”

Russell almost choked on the food, puffing out his cheeks on a retch and then chewing more carefully, starting the water so he could wash their dishes once Lennon finished.

Kitty seemed to forget her tea. “He makes you call him that?”

Lennon shook his head and shot a contrite glance at Russell.

“No, ma’am. He encourages me to call him by his name and I respect his wishes, ma’am. He’s good to me, and I want nothin’ more than to return the favour.”

Russell wanted to usher Kitty and Pete out to their car just so he could smother the kid with books and pats and whatever else he wanted right there and then.

The moments Russell was allowed a glimpse into Lennon’s inner monologue felt precious, and they were blissfully becoming more frequent.

It’s an inconvenience at least, a thorn in your side at most. That can’t be ideal, right?

Nothing could be further from the truth.

--

pete : ) that is all

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