#the missing eight pings

[satorena]

❝ 𝐏𝐔𝐒𝐒𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐘’𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐘 ! ❞

꒰ FEATURING ! ꒱ : geto suguru x fem!reader

꒰ CONTENT WARNINGS ! ꒱ : explicit content, mutual masturbation, lots of dirty talk, fwb!reader, phone sex, fingering, squirting, reader has a vagina and tattoos on her fingers.

serena’s note. based off the line “i touch myself just thinking about you” 🌬️

11:45pm: *2 photo attachments*

11:45pm: missin’ my pretty girl

it was almost painfully embarrassing how easily aroused two simple pictures could get you. it didn’t take much for your cotton panties beneath your oversized tee to get damp with slick, squeezing your thighs together to stimulate some sort of friction.

you stared for god knows how long at your phone screen, the bright light illuminating a mean and girthy dick you’re all too well accustomed to. its brown tip raging red and leaking pre come you’d familiarize yourself with. the bulging veins on the underside of his shaft peeked through sensitive skin, mimicking the veins on the owner’s hands and wrists.

simple details on the man, such as rings and bracelets and beauty marks and an oozing tip, had you licking the tip of your fingers before slipping them past your panties, meeting your bare pussy, flinching at the contact and chilly breeze of your bedroom.

“fuck,” you sighed, head thrown back into the pillow. you performed circles at your clit, teasing yourself with your light touches.

this was exactly how suguru had his way with you. he took his time—though he preferred using his tongue but that wasn’t exactly an option as of right now— by thumbing at your clit and watching you unravel and crumble at his touch.

you mimicked your thoughts, the attention at your bundle of nerves sending blissful shockwaves throughout your limbs. your thighs squeezed together from the pleasure, and you recalled that suguru would have forced them open and made you take it like the good girl you are.

your hole clenched around nothing, desperate to be filled with what couldn’t be provided at the moment. soft whines came out your throat while you ground your hips up, subconsciously chasing your own hand in need of more pressure.

so lost in yourself, your screen dimmed, noting it would soon shut off, before pinging once more at a newer notification.

11:49pm: left on read huh…

11:50pm: don’t tell me you’ve started without me mama?

you don’t even bother trying to reply, knowing he would ring up your line in a few. good, you could use his voice in your ears while getting off, after all— suguru had officially ruined you for anybody else.

as expected, your phone buzzed in your hand and you swiped the call eagerly, pressing it on speaker before resting it on your chest.

“suguuu,” you greet him, bottom lip stuck in between your teeth. your other hand goes to slip under your tee, and grasp at your bare chest, groping firmly at the tender mound.

“you kept me waiting,” he chuckles, though you notice it’s breathy, as if forcing it out. you hear shuffling, and he heaves out a sigh, “missed you, pretty.”

“mhmm, missed you more,” you intensify the pace on your clit, fuzzy sock-cladded toes curling from the building pleasure. “need you here, sugu,”

you mewl his name, the nickname rolling off your pink tongue and into your phone speaker. the neediness behind your tone had him groaning, cursing out a ‘fuck’ and suddenly the sound of fapping grew consistent.

“oh yeah?” he tries, tries, to come off cocky but he’s just as needy as you are. perhaps even more, as the hold on his cock tightens. “tell me more baby. what else?”

you figure it’s finally time to focus your attention on your folds, which had soaked up your cunt and sheets beneath you the minute he called. your index and middle finger graze at your lips, and you whine at the sensitivity.

“want you here,” you moan, rubbing figure eights at your your folds. you stimulate your cunt in a familiar pattern, the same way suguru always worked on you. “w-want your fingers deep in my pussy, fuckin’ me open and—hah, making a mess outta me—need it suguru!”

“shit baby,” he chuckles, though muffled, as you fail to notice he’s got the hem of his wife beater tucked in between his teeth. “want me to tell you what i’d do to you if we were together?”

“yes!” you beg, unashamed as your back arches off the surface of your bed. your limbs felt liquified and there was something about his voice that had your pussy glistening terribly.

“mm, well,” he begins, his thumb grazing over his slit as he pictured you doing a million times. “i’d start off with kisses at your thighs. y’love it whenever i bite, dont’cha? love it when i mark you as mine, hm?”

you nod your head, despite the fact he can’t see. “always sugu, feels so good!”

“and when i get sick of teasing myself, i’d push your panties to the side and kiss your pretty clit,” geto sighs, almost in a trance by his own words. they roll of his tongue so naturally, stomach clenching as he imagines the things he’d do to you if he was able to.

“kiss your pretty clit before playing with it. i know it drives you—fuck—crazy. yeah, it drives you crazy and you love to act like you hate being teased, but baby, your pussy tells me otherwise,”

he spoke so sinfully in your ears, soft voice being a major contrast to the intense words that left his mouth. it churned deep in your guts, sending butterflies with a mix of straight arousal.

“i do— fuckin’ love it—” you cut yourself off, the hand on your breast tweaking with the stiff bud, twisting and pinching at it.

“you fingering yourself yet?” he asks you, and you shake your head, humming a soft ‘uhn uhn’, he continues, upping the pace of his own jerking, “good girl—get your tatted fingers in f’me, wanna hear your pretty pussy speak to me.”

“o-okay” you comply to his order, easing the void of emptiness by sliding your middle and ring finger inside your clenching pussy.

you moan loudly at the intrusion, the stretch nothing close to suguru’s fingers, but still enough to satisfy you for the time being. you feel your soft walls clench around your digits, begging for more. at the wet squelch of your cunt, you hear geto chuckle through the phone, “there we go, my favorite language.”

“wish you were here sugu—hnng, need you here and—and takin’ care of me!” you voice out your thoughts, your fingers gradually picking up their pace and plowing in your insides.

“sugu’s being mean, isn’t he? ‘m sorry baby, for not doin’ my—shit—job,” geto apologizes, the sound of his lubricated cock being jerked resonating in the depths of your ear drums.

“match my rhythm, mama,” he instructs you to follow, and despite you being so deep in your own thoughts and moans, you focus on the faint sound of his fist chafing his dick.

and so, your fingers plunge in and out your wet core, pussy gushing slickness, just to please geto.

“that’s it—my good girl, mmh, always doin’ so perfect.”

his praises did wonders to your body, as you felt an oncoming orgasm approach. your gut heated and tightened into a familiar coil, and your thighs threatened to close in on your hands.

“sugu, baby, ‘m getting close!” you warn him, now roughly grabbing at your other boob that lacked attention.

“me too, pretty girl—me too,” he grunts, the pace of his jerking increasing greatly. he works up and down his length with two hands and purpose, breathing heavily and watching his abdomen contracting tightly.

“play with your clit,” suguru breathes out, a whine escaping his throat momentarily. you moan at the unexpected sound, and he continues, “please baby—play with your clit f’me”

he begged and fuck, you’d never felt yourself be so attracted to his voice the way you did right now.

“feels’good” you slur, drool pooling at the corner of your parted lips. you multitasked with toying at your puffy clit with scissoring your cave, the drag of your fingers and stimulation of your bundle of nerves opening the dam.

“cummin’ sugu—hnng, fuck, oh fuck!” you cry out, far too loud as you release on your hand. your juices spill and you drip down to the crack of your ass, down to the sheets, soaking up your panties and mattress.

you continue to fuck yourself as best as you could despite your body jerking at the sensitivity, thighs quaking and back arched off the bed.

“r-right behind ya princess—oh fuck y/n” you hear his voice break as he shoots his load onto himself, his pretty moans all in your ears. he sounded melodic, your name belonging on his tongue as it sends tingles all over your nerves.

after a few minutes, your high comes down, and you slowly pull your fingers out of your pussy, wincing at the contact. geto’s gone quiet, safe for the panting on the other side of the phone, most likely attempting to ground himself from his own orgasm.

you clench your thighs and jolt at the sensitivity. your skin felt clammy and sticky with your arousal, and your bedroom now smelled of your sex. you miss suguru’s scent, and how much differently your sheets would’ve smelt with him in it.

“taste yourself for me,” suguru speaks up, breathless.

you do as he says, bringing your fingers up and wrapping your plump lips around your digits. you moan softly, before giggling cutely when you hear the man groaning in desperation.

“quit makin’ me jealous,” he sighs, the words almost coming out like a whine. “nothin’ gets sweeter than your pussy, swear on everything.”

you can only think of a simple solution for his complaints. you shrug, popping your lips off your soaked hand, “pull up on me then.”

the line goes quiet for a bit, and you can practically hear the arrogant smirk on his face, which only makes your lips tug into a similar smile.

“your fine ass better be ready for me in ten.”

mind you this is a canon moment between me & him 🫦

#stargirl★rena. #www.tumblr.com/satorena #geto suguru #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk geto #x reader

[thesunisatangerine]

against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part four

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

warnings: explicit sexual content

(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]

word count: 4.3k

It didn’t stop after the first and it sure didn’t stop after the third, either. 

Depending on her schedule, you saw Alexia once or twice at most a week; most of the time it was on the night after a Barcelona match and by the next morning, she’d be gone before you even woke up. But you’d noticed her visits had been increasing in frequency lately, not to mention that sometimes she’d still be in bed when you awakened. The first time you found her still asleep beside you, you were dumbfounded, thinking it was a dream image of her in front of you. And what amazed you even further was that it kept happening.

It wasn’t an unpleasant development. In fact, it was something you gratefully welcomed. And it wasn’t just that, either. Sometimes when Alexia came over, you didn’t even have sex you just… talked: about her training and her health, her teammates’ shenanigans–and hers, of course–her family and bits of her personal life. Meanwhile you told her about places you explored and showed her photos of where you’d been. Then she’d tell you about places you could check out, food to try, and even went ahead and promised to take you to some of the places herself when she had the opportunity.

These times were rare, sure, but you found yourself enjoying her company more and more to the point you noticed yourself craving for it–found yourself missing her presence despite your constant back-and-forth messages. And still you didn’t ask where this was going for fear of ruining whatever the two of you had; you were content and you just simply wanted to watch this unfold as it was. And anyway, it wasn’t like you weren’t used to fleeting relationships, situationships–whatever you’d like to call it–because who was to say this wouldn’t end up like your previous dalliances–ending before it could ever truly begin? Despite you hoping otherwise, a large part of you already convinced yourself that this wouldn’t be anything different: just another highlight to your getaway vacation that you’d look fondly back on a few years down the line.

You had a month left in Barcelona, maybe an additional few weeks depending on the client. What could possibly go wrong?

———

A knock took your attention from your work to the door. You looked at the time–it was early evening on a Saturday and you weren’t expecting anyone. Perhaps you just imagined it? But then it came again not a minute later. You were reluctant to open it seeing as it was already dark but a ping from your phone that signalled a message from Alexia asking if you were home had you flying to the door. 

Upon opening it, you found Alexia there with Nala resting in the crook of her arm, phone in hand, and a paper bag in the other. 

“Took you long enough.” Alexia said playfully, all cool and confident but then her brows quirked upwards almost sheepishly as she said in a more tamed tone, “is this a bad time? I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

You smiled at her consideration before you ushered her in. “No, no! It’s fine, really! Come on in. Sorry, I just wasn’t comfortable opening the door when it’s dark without knowing who it was.”

“Ah, it’s my bad. I should’ve let you know before dropping by.” She bent down and let Nala loose before she untied her shoes and left them by the door. Nala bounded to the living charged with curiosity, nose to the ground, tail wagging as she carefully examined the new space. 

Alexia regarded her dog with an amused expression before she looked back at you. “I meant to bring this over after the game tomorrow but I saw the lights as I drove past so… here I am, I guess.”

You reassured her again as you locked the door behind her and you watched as she made her way to the kitchen. As you passed through the archway to the kitchen room, Alexia already situated herself by the counter taking out glass canisters from the paper bag she brought. When she took the lids off, a delicious aroma instantly filled the air, enticing your senses.

“What do you have there?” You asked as you leaned on the opposite side of the counter.

Alexia smiled at the eagerness in your tone and pride shone in her eyes as she spoke, “only the best fideuà and esqueixada in the world. Made special by my mother, of course.”

You peered into the containers and the sight made your mouth water instantly. As if it remembered that you hadn’t had any food yet, your stomach grumbled obnoxiously. Alexia definitely heard it because she fixed you with an amused smile and at that, your cheeks warmed so you tried to divert her attention. “You know what would put this all together?” 

“What?”

“Wine or champagne. Wait–are you allowed to drink?”

“I’m allowed since I’m still not qualified to play yet.” Her visage became somber for a moment–it fleeted so quickly you almost didn’t catch it–before the light in them returned again. “If you have it, white wine is the best complement for this.”

You hummed and tapped your chin, turning to make your way to the cellar. “I’ll have a look. I’m sure Derek has some wine stored in here somewhere.”

You’d mumbled the last part but it seemed Alexia’d caught it because she asked, “who’s Derek?”

Something odd in her tone stopped you and made you look back at her. Her face was unreadable, almost too neutral. She didn’t think Derek was your boyfriend, did she?

“Oh, Derek’s my brother. He hasn’t been here for a while but he owns this house.”

“Ah, I see,” Alexia cleared her throat, looking away and you could just see a hint of redness in her cheeks. “Well, I’ll lay out the plates. I suppose they’re just in...?”

“The bottom drawer to your right and the utensils are in the upper one.” You instructed as you continued towards the cellar.

“Oh, yeah, I see,” came Alexia’s muffled response. 

When you returned with the bottle of white wine, you found that Alexia managed to locate the glasswares by herself and were drying them with a tea towel. There was only one set of plate and utensils laid out though so you fixed her with a confused look.

“You’re not going to eat?”

Alexia shook her head. “I already had my fill with my family earlier. I’ll take the drink, though.”

“That’s nice that you visited your family today. How are they?” You sat at one of the high chairs by the counter, popped the wine open and poured each of you a glass. You noticed that Alexia’d heated up the fideuà for you from the steam that rose from its container which strengthened its aroma and made it all the more enticing. Alexia remained opposite you but she was close enough with her leaning forward on her elbows, her glass of wine in hand.

She sipped her wine and told you they were well, described little snippets of what’s been happening in her family life. She even told you about a prank she recently played on her sister, one that nearly made you choke on your wine. 

You listened as she talked, liking the way her brows quirked and her shoulders move as she spoke, how each gesture became more pronounced the more passionate or interested she was on a subject. You asked questions and engaged with the conversation every now and again as you savoured the rich taste of the pasta and the freshness of the salad. You’d never had anything like it and you told her as much. In response, she said she’d give the compliment to her mother when she saw her next which made your cheeks warm up again. Once you finished, you tidied up and though you insisted she didn’t have to, Alexia helped you wash up anyway. 

Afterwards, the both of you ended up in the living room with your glasses of wine. She gestured at your laptop on the couch with her glass.

“Work?”

“Yeah. Just double checking if I missed anything important and preparing for the match tomorrow.” You sat on the couch and put the laptop on your lap. Alexia opted to sit on the carpet, legs stretched and crossed, back leaned back against the couch, her head just beside your legs as Nala settled by her side.

She turned her head, looking up at you. “Can I see?”

You turned your laptop so she could see better. You flicked through the photos you were sorting through, explaining to her every now and then the thought process behind each shot. On some photos, Alexia asked you to pause so she could soak them in.

“These are great. You have a great eye.” Alexia complimented with an appraising nod as you got to the end. You thanked her as you pulled back. Then a question came to mind.

“Do you ever get used to it? The cameras, I mean.”

A pause.

“I’m not and I don’t think I ever will. I’m more comfortable with it now but if it’s possible to avoid, I’d do it. I know it’s a part of football and god knows how much more exposure women’s football needs,” Alexia released a heavy sigh, “but sometimes it just gets too much, you know? I mean, I really should be grateful, right? To have gotten to this point? But the media side of it is… not without its own set of miseries.” 

There was an inflection in her tone upon her admittance–guilt. You gently carded your fingers through her hair, Alexia leaned into your touch in response, and you replied just as softly, “it must’ve been difficult. It still is and for you, especially. And I don’t know if anyone’s told you lately but you have to know: you’ve given so much of yourself already. It’s not a sin to want a little peace, Alexia, and it doesn’t make you ungrateful for wanting it, it just makes you human.” 

Alexia took a deep breathe before she rested her temple against your knee. Then you heard her whisper, “thank you.”

A silence fell upon the both of you after that but it wasn’t an uncomfortable one. She remained that way for the majority of the night, head against your knee as she watched a game of football on the TV. 

By the time you finished up your work, it was already late evening and Alexia’d dozed off beside you. You felt bad as you gently woke her up and groggy hazel eyes found yours when you did. The sight made your heart ache from how much Alexia looked younger and more at peace this way, and you told her to wash up so she could stay the night.

And she did.

Now, your cheek felt warm against her chest despite the slight dampness of her borrowed shirt from her hair. Her skin smelt faintly of the soap you were using and with her arm around your waist, you fell asleep content, lulled to a deep slumber by the steady rhythm of her heart.

———

“Hey, please don’t wear that, it’s dirty,” came Alexia’s reprimand from behind you.

You glanced at her reflection in the mirror: Alexia was propped up on the pillows against the headboard, an arm behind her head, nude except for the bundle of sheets that covered one of her thighs, the marks you’d left on her neck and chest last night and this morning generously displayed for you to behold. 

She was nothing short of glorious, you thought, looking relaxed and content like this. 

You turned your attention back to your own reflection: Alexia’s Barcelona jersey draped over your smaller frame and fell just partway down your bare thighs. It felt comfortable against your skin and the fact that it smelt just like Alexia made it feel all the more special.

When you looked at her reflection again, you found her with an affectionate smile, eyes lidded and brows inflected slightly upwards, and suddenly the attention warmed your cheeks.

“But you only wore it for a shoot, right?”

“I mean, yeah, but you know what I mean.”

You hummed, “do you need it?”

“No, I have spares,” she replied before she raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“That means I have time to wash it before I give it back since you insists that it’s dirty.” You said drily as you turned away from the mirror and padded your way to the bed, crawling on the sheets on your knees once you got there.

As soon as you got close enough, Alexia’s hands were immediately on you, guiding you to straddle her lap before she embraced you fully, resting her chin between the valley of your breasts as she looked up at you. You carded your fingers through her hair to see those fair, hazel eyes that never failed to make you shiver.

“I didn’t say you have to hurry. Plus… I kinda like seeing my number on you.” And then she was kissing your neck and you felt one of her hand creeping its way down to cup your ass. You gasped when you felt the heat of her fingers brushing against your core and you buried your own in her hair as she traced a path from your throat to your ear with her tongue, nipping at your lobe when she got there.

“Fuck… Alexia…” You moaned, “you’re insatiable.”

She kissed your shoulder and then she whispered, “only for you.”

———

Something flashed from the corner of your eye followed immediately by a string of whispered curses and a familiar whirring sound. You put your thumb over the line you were just reading so you wouldn’t lose your place before you looked over your bare shoulder to the corner of the room you knew Alexia was who you found, as expected, holding one of your Polaroid cameras. 

She was only wearing a pair of grey sweats which left her torso bare and–like all the time you saw her nude–you couldn’t help but appreciate the soft curves of her breasts and the carved muscles of her stomach. When she met your gaze, she smiled almost sheepishly at you not dissimilar to a child being caught stealing cookies from the jar.

You raised a playful eyebrow at her but instead of answering, she placed her eye over the viewfinder, aimed the camera at you, then pressed the shutter again.

The film came out with a whir and Alexia immediately tucked it into the pocket of her sweats. She then began to make her way towards you and at every other step, she’d stop to take a photo of you, carefully manoeuvring the camera to get the right angle as she did so. It was an endearing sight, really, and it was one that filled your chest full of warmth. 

Eventually, she ended up on you, turning you over on your back as she straddled your waist, leaving you at the mercy of Alexia and her camera. From this position, you couldn’t help but feel extremely vulnerable and exposed not because of your bareness, but because you knew with the way your chest surged with warmth from how Alexia gazed down at you with a satisfied grin, the dimple on her cheek showing as her tongue peeked out between her teeth at the corner of her mouth, seemingly focused on getting the right shot, that this was a woman who had the power to completely and utterly unravel you. 

As a photographer, you were well acquainted with how cameras had the capacity to capture the essence of a moment–to display in raw details the emotions of its subject and freeze them in time, readying them for the dissection and scrutiny of the viewer. You wondered then what Alexia would see written in the shadow, the light, and the colours in the photos she just took of you once she looked at them, and the thought both elated and frightened you. 

Alexia brushed away hair from your temple but as she was about to pull away, you put yours atop of hers and turned your cheek into her palm, looking directly at her behind the camera. You heard her breath catch and then she stuttered out a breath, and the flash barely registered in your mind because you were too focused on the strength and the warmth of Alexia’s hand as you pressed butterfly kisses on the inside of her palm. 

The next thing you knew, the camera was abandoned completely and you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out from your throat when you finally felt Alexia’s lips on yours.

———

Alexia sat on one of the high chairs in the kitchen room, hair damp, a game of football on the mounted TV that was left forgotten in place of… something that you couldn’t quite see from this distance. Alexia’s shoulders were hunched over in concentration and you didn’t have the heart to interrupt whatever she was doing so you leaned on the archway, content with just observing her do her work.

“Are you just gonna stand there or would you care to join me?” You rolled your eyes and you didn’t fight the smile that graced your lips. So much for being sneaky–the fact that Alexia was an accomplished footballer who had crazy spatial awareness occasionally slipped your mind.

“Okay, Gwen Stacy, calm down.” Alexia looked over her shoulder then and stuck her tongue out at you, grinning. “How did you even know I was here?”

“Your reflection on the microwave.” She gestured to it with her chin and sure enough from this angle you were instantly visible especially with the white shirt you had on. The dark glossy surface almost made you look like a ghost.

Standing on your toes, you draped yourself over her broad back, arms wrapping loosely around her neck as you peered down. “So, what are we working on?”

“This.” 

A bracelet made of a dark-blue and red string that looped into itself with a singular, small gold diamond-shaped charm right in the middle, a vertical bar at the two corner points of the long edge of the diamond, dangled between Alexia’s fingers. She took your right hand and placed it in your palm so you could look at it: the bracelet was simple but it’s delicate nature made it all the more beautiful and elegant.

“Oh, wow, this is so pretty.” 

“It’s for you.” At that you looked at her, half-afraid that she’d feel the way your heart raced at her words against her back. 

You were so busy trying to find the right thing to say that you didn’t realise that she took the bracelet back until you felt the warmth of her fingers on your palm as she turned your hand over. You watched her as she wrapped it around your wrist, securing the tie. You turned your right wrist over and looked at the delicate bracelet, and something in your heart soared at the small gift. The fact that Alexia made it herself made it all the more special to you.

“Thank you, Alexia. I love it.”

“You’re welcome.”

That night while you were sufficiently warm nestled by Alexia’s side, naked except for the sheets, your head on her chest, a realisation hit you.

“It represents FC Barcelona, isn’t it?”

Alexia hummed in answer, the rumble from the sound a pleasant sensation on your cheek. Then she held your wrist in the space between her thumb and index finger, the width of her palm supporting your hand as she turned your hand just so so the gold of the diamond could catch the light.

“And what else?”

At that, you looked at the bracelet intently. The two bars: one and one–Alexia’s number. So she really was serious when she said she liked seeing her number on you.

You let out a small laugh, then you nuzzled her jaw as you spoke, “you little sneak.”

———

Minding her bad knee, you flipped the both of you over with a strength that even surprised yourself and with how Alexia’s brows raised high, you supposed it took her off guard, too. You settled your weight on her stomach and you bit your lip when you felt her abs tense against your core, and the desire in you blazed into a raging inferno that threatened to burn you inside out.

She grabbed your ass in both hands with a firm grip, making you gasp when her hold made you grind against her stomach, her eyes smouldering as she looked up at you. 

That look was your last straw; you couldn’t stop fighting your desire anymore so you let it swallow you whole. You fell forward, bracing your weight against your elbows as you craned your neck to kiss Alexia, rough and desperate, her lower lip between your teeth. The action rewarded you with a low moan, a delicious sound that shot heat straight down to your core.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Alexia gasped out between your relentless kisses.

“I like being on top,” was your simple answer whispered hotly against her ear, nipping gently at the soft skin there–teasing. 

Then it was your turn to gasp. 

Her fingers dug delightfully into your flesh, kneading your ass roughly before easing them apart with equal force. The harsh treatment caught you by surprise and the effect of it even more unexpected as you immediately melted against her, moaning her name helplessly against the crook of her neck. 

She knew just how to make a mess of you.

“Hmm, do you?” She asked coyly and then proceeded in a deliciously low voice that oozed seduction, smugness, and sex. “Too bad I’m still in control.”

“Fuck.” Your body answered for you in a full-body shiver. Her words turned you on to the brink of falling and you found no purchase as you slipped from the ledge.

It should be embarrassing how you could come without Alexia even fucking you, and it should scare you that she had this much power over your body but in this moment, when her hands were everywhere but your pussy and her filthy words were whispered hotly in your ear, you could care less. So you fell apart, shaking and weak, as you sank on top of Alexia’s firm and soft body, her name barely coherent from the sobs that came out of your lips. Euphoria lit every nerve in your body as you came, the fabric of your underwear latched deliciously on your pussy like a second skin and you were sure that you’d made a mess on Alexia’s bare stomach.

You only realised Alexia had stopped her teasing ministrations until you heard her thick voice through the haze of the afterglow which you barely caught.

“You came.”

It wasn’t a question, really, but you let out a small affirmative moan because what else could you do? You were mush–the intensity of your orgasm caught you off guard and left you floundering that no thoughts formed in your mind, just pure bliss and ecstacy. But as the veil of euphoria began to lift, embarrassment bled into the edges of your consciousness and with it the instinct to apologise. The words were poised at the tip of your tongue when Alexia moaned.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” she breathed out and when you found the strength to lift your head to look at her, her eyes were lidded, pupils blown so wide they were almost all black.

And then she was pulling you in for a kiss, and then the wet heat of her tongue traced the edge of your ear, and she was nipping at your jaw while she dragged her palms from your ass to the side of your ribs. Your skin burnt at her touch and you could do nothing but surrender, to moan and whimper as your heat blazed anew despite having just been swept away.

“But this time, you’re going to come with my fingers in you.”

She didn’t even let the words sink in. Instead she wasted no time to slip her hand between your bodies and to push aside the fabric of your ruined underwear. Usually, Alexia liked to tease you and ease her fingers in you slowly as she sought as much reaction from you as she could, but the slick she found there must had been enough to satisfy her because she pushed two fingers in as soon as she found you. The thickness of her fingers slid in easily and you nearly screamed her name from the pleasure. 

She was relentless in her endeavour to make her words true with the way she gripped your hip steady with her free hand so you didn’t stray too far from her touch when you moved to meet her thrusts, the pace at which she worked her fingers in you left you lightheaded the same way her teeth on your neck worked to drive you insane.

“Alexia, Alexia, Alexia–” You chanted her name like a holy litany, burying your face into her hair that was now slightly damp with sweat and breathed her in: her scent of sun and freshly cut grass, of faint wintergreen, and an essence that was uniquely hers. The moment left you full with something heavy and warm, something that spoke of and hoped for forever, and clarity washed over you: this wasn’t like one of your previous dalliances anymore because you wanted more with her.

The realisation hit you hard, the gravity of it left your mind in a momentary stasis that when you came back to yourself, the shock of your orgasm knocked the breath from your lungs and you felt yourself being pulled by the tide. So strong was it that you could do nothing but pray the flood wouldn’t take you–that Alexia wouldn’t let you drown.

#ap11 #not proofread #mine #my writing #a/n: i think this is the halfway point guys for this one #ik alexia mentioned somewhere that she has dinner with her family on fridays but for this fic's sake i made it to saturdays lol #also i have a backlog of ideas i wanna start writing but i really wanna finish this one first #just a side note this part is 4.3k #so on aggregate this is officially the longest fanfic id written so far. #hope you guys like this and would love to know what you think about the story so far #just a reminder: im tweaking minor details as i go so the most accurate copy of all the parts will be on my ao3 (@thesunisatangerine) #apologies for any grammar and spelling mistakes ill work on em later #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

Bucky isn't a fan of children roaming the streets in costumes and asking for candy. But it only takes one little boy to change his mind.

This is my Halloween contribution to the fandom and a shoutout to @jessybarnes, congrats on reaching 500 followers!

Word count: just over 1k

He had just gotten home. Bloodied and bruised. There hadn't been any time for him to change. In fact, he had barely stepped through his front door when his phone pinged with a notification from you.

Went to the store to grab more candy!

Bucky scowled. Halloween. He didn't have time to think about such mundane things as your favorite pagan holiday. Naturally, you felt otherwise and had taken the liberty of decorating his home for him.

It was lucky he lived in an apartment building. What was the likelihood that any kids would-

"Trick or Treat!" A chorus of voices accompanied a knock on the door.

His shoulders drooped in disappointment. Maybe he could ignore it?

"TRICK OR TREAT!" There was only one voice this time but louder than before.

Bucky was a patient man who knew multitudes of silence and stillness. He would be patient.

"Come on, Mister! I saw you go inside!" The voice of a little boy who was far less patient than he was.

A sigh escaped Bucky's lips. He was exhausted and didn't particularly want to deal with the emotional baggage that came with the way he expected a child would react to his appearance. He knew people still saw him as a monster, despite his pardon. He had no desire to see fear reflected in the eyes of innocence. But the pounding didn't stop.

He looked around wildly for something to give the expectant youth. His eyes finally landed on a bowl beside the door. There was one candy bar left inside.

Well, it was better than nothing. Bucky grabbed the bowl and wrenched open the door. An audible gasp stopped him in his tracks. He looked down to see an eight year old boy dressed as Captain America standing before him, mouth agape.

"Here kid, this is all I've got," he held out the candy bar to the frozen child.

Both Bucky and the boy stood facing each other for what felt like an eternity to Bucky. Neither of them moved and Bucky wondered if the boy's jaw could drop any further. His silence was making Bucky very uncomfortable.

"Look kid, just take this and go," he dropped the bar into the kid's pumpkin basket. As an afterthought he added, "you don't have to be scared."

"Are you an Avenger?" The boy whispered.

"Not exactly, kid."

"But you're friends with Captain America?"

Bucky was loath to answer this question, but he couldn't exactly deny that he and Sam were friends.

"I guess you can call us friends."

"Do you have superpowers?"

Bucky shrugged. He thought of superpowers belonging to heroes. He would never describe himself as one.

The kid smiled and continued talking despite Bucky’s nonverbal state. “My dad lives in Washington DC now.” 

“That’s nice?” Bucky felt the need to respond to the wide eyes which hadn’t left his face since he opened the door.

“I went to visit him over the summer. He doesn’t live with me and my mom anymore.”

Bucky didn’t miss the glaze of sadness which washed over his face, and he didn’t like how it made him feel.

“Did you like it there?” he asked the boy.

“Yeah! He took me to the Smithsonian.”

Bucky finally understood what the boy was telling him.

“I read about you.”

“Oh.” Bucky’s face fell. The kid had read about the Winter Soldier and his past. “Look, I’m not-”

“You’re my favorite!” The kid was positively beaming up at him.

“F-favorite?” Bucky stuttered, utterly baffled by the response he was receiving. “Favorite what?”

“Howling Commando!” He bobbed up and down with excitement. “You’re Steve Roger’s best friend!”

“Yeah,” Bucky’s face softened and he replied softly, saddened by the thought of his oldest friend. He missed Steve. He looked down at the child before him, his bright eyes and blonde hair. “What’s your name, kid?”

"Steve," he smiled. "My mom named me after Captain America because he saved her life when she was pregnant with me. Dad tells me what happened as a bedtime story on my birthday." The light behind his eyes dimmed with his last words. "He missed it this year."

"I'm sorry, pal."

"Next time I see him, I'm going to tell him I met an Avenger!"

"I bet he will be real impressed!" Bucky smiled, choosing not to correct little Steve.

"When I grow up, I wanna be just like you!"

"I don't think you want that," Bucky answered wistfully.

"You don't think I can be a hero?" Little Steve's face fell.

"Of course you can!" Bucky inwardly cursed his use of language. He knelt down in front of the boy and laid a hand on his shoulder. "But you know my friend, Sam Wilson? Captain America?"

Little Steve nodded solemnly.

"He's the guy you want to grow up to be. Got that?"

"Yes sir, Mr Bucky."

"But if you ever tell him I said that, you'll never get candy here again. Understood?" Bucky said sternly, dropping his last candy bar into the kid's pumpkin basket.

"I'd better get going or I'll miss out on the good candy. No offense, but you gotta get something better than this."

"Working on it, pal," Bucky smiled as you turned the corner, arms laden with several bags. He unburdened you and emptied the contents of one bag into Little Steve's small hands.

He delighted in the sight of the boy's bright eyes and toothy grin. "Thanks!" he cried, backing away with his sugary horde.

"Don't eat it all at once!" Bucky called after him. 

You stood to the side watching the way Bucky had spoken to the little boy, giving him a smug smile.

"What?" Bucky frowned.

"What was that about?" You pointed between Bucky and the spot where Little Steve had stood.

"Kids these days, no respect. We didn't have the luxury of being given this much sugar when I was a kid."

"Is that why you gave him half of what I just brought back?"

Bucky shrugged.

"Come on, let's go inside. The kids may think that blood is fake, but I know better!" You steered Bucky into the apartment. "And if you're good, you'll get a treat too!"

“Did I mention that dress looks incredible on you?" Bucky smirked, eyeing your rockabilly cap sleeve dress with its sweetheart neck and flared skirt. True to the Halloween spirit, it was covered in a pumpkin and ghost design.

You put your arms around his neck. “There will definitely be treats tonight,” you purred into his ear.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #jessybarnesreaches500

[vanwritesfan-fiction]

Welcome To The World, Alex (Request)

Thank you for the request! This fic tells the story of Alex’s birth!

Words: 2,538

Warnings: mentions of angst and anxiety related to birth

You waddled into the nursery, checking in on Travis who was putting the finishing touches on Alex’s crib. You had given him a honey-do list now that you could no longer stand for more than five minutes without back pain, and he took on the domestic role so well. “You’re just cruel.” You narrowed your eyes at your husband, who was standing shirtless, wearing nothing but basketball shorts that sat low on his hips. He chuckled, pulling you into his body, careful of your large bump. He lifted your chin to place a tender kiss on your lips. “I’m ready to go whenever you are, baby.” You gestured at your bump, and incredulous look on her face. “How, Travis?” He placed his hands on your bump, rubbing gently. “I can get creative. I’m thinking we just need a new angle.” He held his hands out, sizing you up. “Very funny, not gonna happen. I’m so uncomfortable, you’re just going to have to wait the eight weeks for that.” You stepped back to admire the shelves that Travis had hung up above the changing table. “They’re crooked, baby.” “You’re lying.” Travis stood next to you, tilting his head to the side.

You winced when you felt a cramp around your pelvis, your back tightening as your knees almost buckled beneath you. Travis grabbed you before you fell to the ground, guiding you to the rocker in the corner. “Are you alright?” He bent down in front of you, rubbing circles on your thighs. You closed your eyes, trying to hold back tears, leaning your head back on the cushion. “I think so.” Your breath hitched when you responded. “Just breathe, baby.” You attempted to take a few deep breaths, but you were overcome with emotion, tears rolling down your face. Travis helped you stand up and usher you to the bedroom, making sure you were tucked in and comfortable before he sat down by your feet. “Talk to me, baby.” You looked up at him, his face riddled with worry. “I’m just scared. The closer we get to my due date, and the more you’re away, I’m just afraid you won’t be here when I need to go to the hospital.” Travis’ phone pinged in his pocket. He stood up, pulling out his phone to read the incoming text message. “What is it?” you sniffled, wiping your nose. “We’ve got a 5am call time for our flight to New Jersey tomorrow.” You felt tears coming on again at the thought of Travis being a plane ride away to get back to you if you needed him, but you held it in. Regardless of the brave face you thought you were putting on your for your husband, he saw right through you. “I’m gonna tell the team I’m not going.” Travis began dialing his coach’s number as you struggled to get up from the bed. “No, Travis. I’ll never forgive myself if you miss this game and then nothing happens.” “I don’t care about the fuckin’ game, Y/N.” You grabbed his hand, “Okay, then do it for me. I want you to go.” You were lying through your teeth, and just hoped the baby could stay snuggled in until Travis got back.

********************

You woke up to the sound of Travis rifling through the kitchen. You checked your phone to see it was only 4:00AM. Resolving that you weren’t going to go back to sleep because of your increasing belly and back pain, you headed downstairs. He was pulling some drinks from the fridge when you rounded the corner. “Hey, good morning.” You rolled your shoulders back, giving Travis a quick peck. “Hey, sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” You looked through Travis’ duffle bag on the counter, taking on your role of “school mom” to make sure he had everything he needed. Travis would forget his head if it wasn’t attached to his body. You made a mental checklist of the things that he would need for the road, walking to the pantry to grab some snacks for him to have on the plane. “Do you need another pair of socks? I don’t see your sweatshirt in here. You’re gonna want it for the hotel room. I know you always get cold at night. Travis chuckled, watching you waddle around the kitchen, stuffing his bag with different items. “Y/N, stop, baby.” You stopped in front of him, hands on your hips. “Stop, what?” “You’re nesting me.” You rolled your eyes, taking a bite of his protein bar. “What are you talking about? I’m not nesting you.” Travis stroked your cheek, “How are you feeling? I can still tell them I’m not coming.”

“I’m fine.” You turned your head so he couldn’t see you’re the pain in your face. You had gotten about two hours of sleep, and the aching in your back had only increased as the night went on. You felt very shitty, but you were determined to push through so Travis could focus on his game. You walked up to him, leaning your head on his chest. Travis drew circles on your back, as you closed your eyes, almost falling asleep in his hold. “I’ve got to go.” You whined, not letting go. It took everything in Travis not to call the team right now.

*******************

The game had a 5:00PM kickoff time, so you spent most of the day washing and folding baby clothes and catching up on the phone with your mom. “Do I need to jump on a plane?” You mom had been worried about you for weeks, and while you wanted her to be there for the birth, you had planned on her coming next week. “No, mom, I’m fine.” She grilled you with questions, “Has the baby dropped? Have you had your “bloody show”?” You grimaced at that term. “I don’t even think I know what that means, but I sure hope not. I’ve got to go, the game is about to start.” “Please let me know if anything changes. I’ve got a bag packed ready to go to the airport.” “Thanks mom, love you.” You weren’t able to press end call before Donna’s number flashed on the screen. “Hey Mama, how are you?” You layed down on the couch, turning on the TV to the game, Travis on the screen going through warmups before the game. “Let me guess, Travis called you?” Donna laughed before she responded. “He’s just worried about you. He called me about three times once he landed. Everything okay?” You knew you could trust Donna not to tell Travis anything and you really needed someone’s ear, so you didn’t go crazy. Tears immediately began to build in your lashes, but you wiped them away quickly. “I feel terrible, Donna. My back is hurting, and I have this pain in my lower pelvis that just won’t go away.” “Oh hon, I’m so sorry. I know this is no fun. Have you been in contact with your doctor?” You shook your head, pulling your blanket over your belly. “Yes, I’ve been in contact with him, telling him my symptoms. He said if my contractions are not closer than 10 minutes apart, there’s no reason for me to worry, but I definitely feel contractions, probably about ever 20-30 minutes.”

Donna noted down your timing so she could help you keep track. “Do you want me to come over, I’m only about a 30-minute drive away.” “I appreciate it Donna, but I think I’m okay. I’ve got some tea, and I’m gonna settle in and watch Travis play.” “Ok, I’ll check in with you in about 30 minutes.” You made it through the first half, happy that you made Travis go because he was killing it, the Chiefs up 21-0 going into halftime. Your eyes were beginning to droop, your lack of sleep starting to catch up with you.

*******************

You awoke suddenly to a strong contraction, this one lasting longer than any previous ones, so painful you had to grip the coffee table to steady yourself. You attempted to get up, but you stopped when you felt a wet spot on your leggings. You pulled the blanket back, gasping when you saw that the couch was soaked. Your heart started racing at the shock that your water had broken. As you grabbed your phone you heard the front door unlock. Donna rushed over to you, taking in the sight of you on the couch. “Are you okay?” “Call my mom please”, was all you could think to say in the moment. “I already did, hon. When you didn’t answer my last couple of phone calls, I was worried something was wrong.” She helped you up so you could stand. “We need to go to the hospital immediately. I’m gonna get in touch with Travis.” You shook your head fervently. “Donna, please don’t. I don’t want him to worry about me right now. I need to grab my bag. With you and my mom there, I should be fine.”

******************

Travis had been playing well all night, but his mind was somewhere else. The entire game he had been worried about you, hoping that you were alright. He was sitting on the bench during the next defensive play when Patrick sat down next to him. He took a sip of water, looking at Travis’ worried face. “She’s gonna be fine, man. Y/N is one of the toughest people I know.” Travis rubbed his thighs, wiping the sweat off his brow with a towel. “I know, I just hate that I can’t be there for her. You should have seen her this morning, she wouldn’t stop crying.” His shoulders slumped over, the guilt of leaving you killing him. “Listen man, as soon as this game is over, you’ll be right back on the way to her. I need you to focus now so we can get this win.” “You’re right let’s go”, Travis shrugged the worry off his shoulders, putting his helmet back on. As he was jogging back onto the field, the assistant coach stopped him. “It’s your mom, she’s on the phone.”

Even though Donna knew that you would be upset with her, there was no way she wasn’t going to call Travis. She knew how important you were to him, and he would want to be there for the birth of his son. She paced around the hospital waiting room while she waited to get in touch with her youngest child. “Mom, is Y/N okay?” Travis’ voice came on over the line. “She’s fine baby, but we’re at the hospital. She went into labor.” Travis was going to hang up the phone immediately, but Donna stopped him. “I’m on the way, now.” “How Travis, you’re in another state and in the middle of a game.” “I don’t care. I said I’m on my way.” He hung up the phone and jogged over to the assistant coach. “Coach, I have to go. My wife is in labor.” The AC turned around suddenly, his headset falling off his head. “What do we need to do?” Travis started jogging back to the locker room, yelling over his shoulder. “I need a plane in about 30 minutes.” The coach just shook his head, getting on the phone to get the jet ready for him to fly back to KC.

*****************

You hated hospitals. Your nurse could tell you were nervous, so she made conversation to try to calm your nerves. “Are you excited for your baby?” You were babbling, your mind racing as you watched her place the IV in your arm. “Yes, it’s our first baby. We’re naming him Alexander.” The nurse gave you a genuine smile, as she clamped the heart rate monitor on your index finger. “That’s a beautiful name. Is your husband coming?” You breathed through your next contraction, gritting your teeth through the pain. “No, he’s not going to make it in time. He plays football.” You laughed, “he’s actually playing a game right now.” “Do you want me to put it on for you?” The nurse turned the tv to the game, the final minutes of the fourth quarter counting down. “The Chiefs are going to walk away with a big win tonight against the Jet, even without their star player, Number 87, on the field tonight. Travis Kelce left the game in the beginning of the third quarter due to personal reasons, but KC was able to pull it off anyway.” The announcer updated viewers as the game was ending, and you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “I just got off the phone with him, he’s on the way now.” You were immediately overcome with emotion, reaching out for Donna’s hand. “Thank you”, you said in between sobs.

Once you received your epidural, you were finally able to relax, your lower half completely numb. Your doctor said you were a few hours away from pushing because you weren’t fully dilated yet, and you hoped Travis would arrive before Alex got here. You mom arrived shortly after you did, and you tried to close your eyes and get some sleep.

You stirred awake to the feeling of someone’s hand on your cheek. The florescent lights blinded you as you looked up to see Travis standing over you. “You made it”, you grumbled out, the pain medicine taking effect. “I told you I would.” He grabbed your hand as he dragged a chair up to your bed, resting his head against your belly. “Alex and I had a deal, he’s not allowed to come before I get here.” You chuckled, your belly moving up and down in sync with your laugh. “Oh really? He’s been quiet, no kicking or anything the last couple of hours. He must be resting up to meet us.” You rubbed Travis’ head, scratching the back of his neck like he loved. Due to Alex’s size, you were going to have a C-section. The doctor came in about an hour later to give you the rundown of how everything would go, prepping Travis so he knew where to stand. You both signed the necessary paperwork, and you were wheeled back to the operating room. Travis was grinning the entire time the nurses dressed him in his gown and gloves. “Excited, daddy?”, the nurse asked him as she handed him a hair net. “I can’t even explain how excited I am.”

*********************

The entire surgery was a blur, and when you headed back to your room, you fell back asleep immediately as Travis watched over you. Alex was taken back to be monitored, so you both had a moment to just be. When you woke up, Travis was holding Alex in his arms, his son about the size of a football. “Careful, baby.” Travis looked at you with a smile before turning back to Alex, who was sound asleep. He walked around the room gingerly, bouncing Alex up and down. “Go back to sleep baby, we’re good.” You took the opportunity, knowing you weren’t going to get much more sleep for the next couple of years. “Welcome to the world little man.” Alex looked up at his dad, grunting as he fell back asleep.

#travis kelce fluff #travis kelce fic #travis kelce imagine #travis kelce x reader #travis kelce #traviskelce #nfl fan fic #nfl fic #nfl fluff #nfl imagine

[archangeldyke-all]

that amab ceo!Vika ask got me 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

can i request a fic about reader jokingly requesting a nut video with sound & Sevika actually ends up sending it, whining & dirty talking in the background? 😣

hehehehehehehehhehehehehehehehehehe

men and minors dni

sevika's at home today. you were supposed to have the day off with her, but you got a call this morning from seamus begging you to come in and fix the copier. it's acting up. again.

she spent the morning trying to get you to stay in bed with her, but you went in anyways, knowing that if you didn't handle the problem now, by the time you get back on monday the copier would be on the brink of spontaneous combustion.

you're sitting on the floor of the printing/copying room, surrounded by parts of the machine and the giant manual that came with it, trying to find the source of the error. you've been here for hours. you've got a half eaten sandwich beside you for lunch. you're cursing yourself for not taking sevika up on her offer to stay in bed all day.

your phone pings with her ringtone and you smile. speak of the devil...

'hows it going' sevika's text reads. you sigh and tap out a quick response.

'horrible.' you reply.

'poor baby' sevika rapidly responds. you smile.

'wish i was home with u.'

'anything i can do to make it better?' sevika asks. you grin and bite your lip.

'nut video with sound?' you text, adding on a few prayer hands emojis. sevika doesn't reply, which only makes you laugh more. sevika's shit at sexting, and she knows you know this. each time you tease her with a sexy text, she replies with a middle finger emoji or a phone call, knowing that her virtual dirty talk would only make you laugh more than it would make you horny.

you return to your project, scouring the guidebook for an answer, halfheartedly picking at your sandwich. you get up to stretch and do a loop around the floor, take a quick bathroom break, and chat with riley. when you return, you're surprised to see a response from sevika.

when you unlock your phone, you nearly pass out.

sevika did it. she actually did it. granted, you haven't pressed play on the video yet, but from the thumbnail (sevika's hand wrapped around her rock hard cock, a little drip of pre escaping the tip) you can pretty safely assume that sevika's actually taken your prompt to heart.

you gulp.

then you scramble to your feet, running out of the copier room to sevika's office, slamming and locking the door behind you before pulling down the curtains. for a second, you just stand there, staring at the tantalizing video on your phone, and then you jump into action, sprawling out on her couch and shoving your hand down your pants as you click play.

'you're lucky you're cute, y'know. this shit is ridiculous.' sevika narrates to the camera as she gently jerks her cock. eight inches long and not even fully hard yet-- not because she's not aroused, but because it takes a cock that big so fucking long to fill up with blood-- her cock's standing proud in her hand as she steadily, slowly jerks it.

you bite your lip.

sevika's foreskin is bunching up tantalizingly around her head, before being pulled back down around her shaft as her hand moves. she knows how obsessed you are with the flap of skin, obsessed with how sensitive it is. 'you're such a pervert.' sevika's breathy voice scolds, like she's reading your mind.

you gulp as your fingers start tracing circles around your clit, matching the slow pace of sevika's hand.

the small drip of precum on her head starts growing, before it slowly, slowly drips down her shaft until it's swiped up by sevika's grip. her pace is increasing, her breaths coming out shaky from behind the camera. 'shoulda just stayed home, this coulda been your hand. fuck, or your mouth. or your cunt, shit.' sevika curses as she imagines you. 'fuck, i wish you were here, baby.' she whispers. 'fuckin' miss you.'

your cunt clenches around nothing, and you bite your lip to muffle a moan as you dip your fingers down to tease your hole.

sevika's pace is quick now, her cock is throbbing in her grip. for a moment, she lets go, gives you a full, unobstructed view of her girthy, twitching dick. then, you can hear her spit in her hand, and when her fingers wrap around her cock again, it grows wet and shiny.

she's close. you are too.

sevika's breaths are quick and shaky, she lets out little grunts and curses each time she swipes her thumb over the head of her cock. 'look how fuckin' messy 'y make me, honey.' sevika grunts. 'look how wet i am for you.' she moans. 'you drive me insane. can't believe you left me all alone this morning. i had plans y'know-- fuck-- plans to fuck you all day long.'

your cunt flutters around your fingers, and muffled wet sounds start filling sevika's office with each thrust of your fingers.

''m gonna split you in half when you get home. gonna fuck you so hard you can't walk-- then you won't be able to leave me. just keep you on the fuckin' bed, all fucked out, all your holes drippin' in cum and gaping-- beggin' for me-- shit!' sevika groans. her balls are tightening beneath her hand, her cock leaking more and more pre. 'fuck, you're not even here and you're drivin' me crazy. 'm so fuckin' close.'

"fuck, please." you whisper to your phone as you watch your girlfriend approach her orgasm.

'miss you so much baby. wish you were here, wish y' could lick up my cum.' she moans as she finally cums, coating her knuckles in rope after rope of her thick white cum.

you cum at the sight of it, your back arching off the couch and a high pitched whine escaping your lips. you don't take your eyes off of your phone, watching as sevika drains her balls and makes a mess of herself.

for a few moments, you can hear sevika's huffing breaths as she recovers from her orgasm. her thigh twitches, and her cock begins to grow flaccid, and she sighs, satisfied and sleepy. she pulls her hand away from her cock, giving you a good show of the cum coating her fingers, before flipping the camera around and winking at you. then, the camera cuts to black.

you flop on you back, panting as you stare at the ceiling. fuck. you think. i'm going home, fuck this. sevika can buy a new copier on monday.

before you get up to leave, you pull your fingers out of your pants and open your camera app to selfie mode. you take a quick video, showing off the strings of cum that glisten and cling to your fingers, before sinking them into your mouth and licking them clean. you moan at the camera, popping your fingers out of your mouth then smirking. "be home soon, honey." you say with a wink.

you send the video off then rise to your shaky legs, grabbing your bag and heading to the exit. when you get to your car, your phone pings again.

'cant wait ;)' sevika says.

you grin.

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #sevika smut

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Hi! Sorry, I'm new here 😊 congrats on your follower milestone!!

May I please request prompts 17 and 34 with my beloved Sergeant, Hunter? 🥰🥰

Thank you so much! Looking forward to seeing what you come up with 💜

@photogirl894 Hello love,

I know I said I'd probably wouldn't have time today, but turns out I had enough time to write this one out quickly. I hope you like it. I actually quite enjoyed this one.

Love oo,

Too Close

Warnings: Explosions, blaster fire, falling from a height, injuries, blood, shrapnel, medical procedure, angst, fluff, comfort, hurt. I think that's it, if I miss any please let me know.

Italics - Flashback

Main Master List   |  Star Wars Fic Roulette

Hunter let out a sigh of relief as you both made it on board the Marauder. His eyes flitted over to your face, you were still unconscious, knocked out from the loss of blood, you’d be stirring soon according to Tech, but it wasn’t making his anxiety calm down. He couldn’t help wondering if there was something he could’ve done differently.

The fog from the explosions, dust and debris was getting beyond bearable, you couldn’t stop coughing as you hid behind the cargo crate. Your helmet had been shattered when you smashed it against the ground when your rappelling cable broke. Thankfully it was only when you were eight feet from the ground, but it could’ve been much worse than a broken helmet. 

Of course, it didn’t help that you were stuck hiding behind the crate with Hunter, because a piece of shrapnel embedded itself in your thigh, and was doing little to hamper the loss of blood. They always tell you to leave the shrapnel in, until you saw a medic, but at this point, you’d be lucky to just see the next twenty minutes. 

You pushed down hard on the wound, Hunter’s bandana doing little to help as he tried to wrap it around your thigh. 

“Hunter, leave me” you shouted over the explosions and blaster fire. These Separatist droids weren’t backing down. 

“Stop talking, it’ll make you pass out faster.”

“Hunter please!” You grabbed the lip of his chest plate and got him to look at you, “I can’t see you dying. So please, go!”

“I’m not dying and neither are you so stop distracting me and press on the wound!” His hand engulfed your thigh pressing down hard, stopping the trickle of blood that had pooled under your thigh. 

Before you could speak another rain of debris showered over you, Hunter pulled you under him as he shielded you with his torso. “Please… I can’t … I can’t see you get hurt because of me.” You pleaded to the man who held your heart and soul, your eyes welled up with tears as you looked at him, “Please, Hunt …”

His eyes widened, it was a nickname you reserved for him only during your quiet time together, only in the privacy of your quarters did you ever call him Hunt. You must have been in a really bad shape if his nickname slipped through your lips. 

“No! Listen, I don't care what happens to me. I'm not leaving you." He pressed his helmeted forehead against yours, as his now bloodied glove caressed your cheek, “I won’t. Now stay alive and stay awake. That’s all you have to do, Tech will get us out of here. So DON’T DIE ON ME! THAT’S AN ORDER SOLDIER!”

You chuckled at his demeanour, loving him all the more, “Yes, sir!” You saluted. 

He chuckled and focused back on the droids in front of him. He sent another ping to Tech, time was running out, he needed to get you to a medical facility soon. 

His eyes glanced back over to you, you were starting to stir. Your eyes fluttered open, as they looked around the Marauder for him, he gripped your hand, “Easy, easy. You’re safe.” His soft tone calmed you down. 

You squeezed his hand, as you looked him over, “Injuries?”

Hunter closed his eyes and shook his head, “I’m fine. Tech stopped the bleeding on your thigh and removed the shrapnel. We’re heading to a medical frigate now, you’ll be as good as new in a few days.” His hand reached up as the back of his fingers caressed your cheek. You closed your eyes and leaned into his hand.

“You didn’t leave.”

“I couldn’t.”

“But you could’ve been…”

“If you die, I’ll die right beside you. I’m not leaving you. Ever.”

You looked at him with a loving smile, and full of adoration in your eyes.

“What?” He chuckled.

You shook your head, as you looked at him smiling softly, “I just wanted to say thank you for protecting me.” You pressed a kiss to his fingers, “And that I love you.”

“I love you. But don’t ever do that to me again.” Tears welled up in his eyes, “I thought I was going to lose you out there…” his tone shifted as his breathing trembled, “I can’t lose you cyar’ika. I … I can’t …”

“Shhh, come here” You motioned for him to rest his head on your shoulder, as you hugged him close. It wasn’t the first time you’ve been injured but it certainly had been the closest you’ve ever been to shaking hands with death. You both held each other close, reminding each other you were still there. 

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[artbyblastweave]

You said you needed to be prodded to elaborate on why Worm should have been longer? Well consider this a prod, if I may be so bold.

A big chunk of it is rote contrarianism. Part of it is that I like Worm, my experience reading so much Worm was "Sweet! Even More Worm! I've got so much Worm left before I'm out of Worm!" So a version of Worm with More Worm is prima facie an enticing prospect.

In the non-reflexive, genuinely considered sense, there possibly should have been an interlude arc to flesh out the timeskip, make it feel like it was as much of her powered career as it objectively was. And I'm far from the first person to make this observation. But on another level, there's a sense where "Worm Should Have Been Longer" is conflated in my head with "Worm's Timeframe Should Have Been Longer." Which is tricky, and invites further unpacking-

One thing about Worm I've noted in the past is that the villain portion of Skitter's cape career- more than two thirds of the book- only takes place over about three months, but- speaking only for my reading experience- this was surprisingly easy to miss or elide in my consideration of the narrative. One reason for this is that Taylor and her supporting cast are so heavily fleshed out, are so well-realized, undergo so much character development in a compacted timeframe, that it felt like I had been following them for much longer than I had. This is enhanced (was enhanced?) by the out-of-universe passage of time; The S9 interlude arc is, like, a little over the one-third mark of the story, but Worm had been running for a year at the time that that was published, and it certainly felt like I’d been reading a years' worth of fiction while binging it. In this way Worm was truly faithful to its comic book origins; story arcs that take place over the course of hours but are published over the course of months, building reader familiarity with characters who objectively haven’t been at what they're doing for very long. A third element (noticed on rereads) is that Wildbow often opens with scene transitions/cold-opens or what-have you that, are generally contiguous with the preceding events, but simultaneously slightly obfuscate exactly how much time has passed. Arc 6 opens with Taylor finishing up with the ABB mop-up, and it’s blocked to demonstrate how far she’s come in such a relatively short time period. It can’t have been more than a few days since Lung. It explicitly wasn’t. But it had the vibe of having been a while.

What I’m working towards here, inch by inch, is the following conclusion: Worm has what I call an eyedropper approach to Taylor’s three-months and 22 arcs. Any given escapade feels like it’s just one vignette, emblematic of a longer, two-or-three-year stage of her life, scooped out and displayed as a representative sample of what’s going on. When shit hits the fan with Dinah, it feels like the upset of a longstanding status quo, even though by that point, Skitter has only been in five or six major engagements alongside the Undersiders. When they spend Arc 21 lancing various supervillain incursions into the city, it felt like I was watching a day in the life, like this was something the Undersiders had been dealing with, and would be dealing with, for a while- even though arc 21′s handful of engagements are basically the only times Skitter did that before she left. Purely from a vibes-based perspective, you could tell me that the first two thirds of Worm are occurring over the course of eight to ten years, and I might roll with that for a minute.

But the catch is- her villainous career has the vibes of lasting a long time, but it’s actually really thematically and logically important that it doesn’t. Skitter’s friendships within the Undersiders are strongly predicated on her ping-ponging from crisis to crisis so quickly that no true reckoning about their differing morals can ever come about. Skitter’s ability to administer as a benevolent warlord is heavily predicated on her lines of credit from Coil- and you cannot stretch that tension out much longer than it was stretched in canon without Dinah dying or Coil getting fed up with Skitters non-profitability. Breathing room is anathema to the story’s depiction of a pressure-cooker society where every crisis begets a new crisis. Nothing between Lung and Alexandria plays out the same way if anyone is allowed any amount of time to think about or process anything. And you actually see this in arc 21; it’s the first time that Skitter has a real opportunity to think about what the long-term looks like, and there’s a whole sequence where she’s getting nervous about her ability to reign in Regent over the long-haul. It’s the first time in three months where she’s had the luxury to worry about that kind of thing. 

You square this circle by.... basically, by striking the canon balance. There's a sense in which I'm increasingly convincing myself that I'm not talking about a problem Worm has so much as a problem Worm already has a workable-but-imperfect solution for. Create distinct periods in Skitter's development- "Rookie era," "Warlord Era," "Wards Era," whatever-each of which feel like they could balloon out into a years-long status quo if this were a comic, even though the cast are really living through the weeks where decades happen. Rely on the Sheer Amount Of Worm to smooth over the breakneck pace at which everyone's character growth and interpersonal connections are developing. There are a few points in the story where "fuck, has it only been three months?" is a salient mood to invoke. The get-together with Danny's coworkers, the back-to-school portions of arc 20. But for the most part the work already does a really good job of making the pinched timeframe a minor bit of fridge logic and not something hugely dissonant and immersion-breaking.

In the process of writing this I've basically argued myself out of thinking that there's much to gain from fucking around with this delicate balance. I don't know if that has implications for whether or not additional arcs covering the timeskip would help or hurt that balance- at a certain level of focus, that whole "you liked us, but you didn't love us" bit about Skitter's time with the Wards vs. The Undersiders becomes a much harder sell. It was already one of the hardest sells in the book for me, the thing that got me thinking about this in the first place. (two years vs three months!) But at some point, I have to bite the bullet- in a work as ambitious as Worm, "good enough" is a fine thing to settle for. It's good enough!

#a lot of things in this book are good enough #worm #wildbow #parahumans #thoughts #meta #asks #this is like a year late #clearing out my drafts #ask #worm web serial #worm spoilers #effortpost

[romanoffsbish]

Baby, You’re Not Alone

WandaNat x Stark!Reader

Warnings: Loss of mom young—Grief, Numbness.

18+ | Minors DNI | Nudity/No smut

Requested: @mutlifandomloverblog | 4,450 Words

Chrysanthemum’s are “funeral flowers”

White: Purity / Grief ; Yellow: Sorrow/Neglected Love

Wanda frowned when she woke up to empty, frigid sheets telling her you'd been gone for at least an hour if not longer. Natasha being gone was expected since she starts her training at four in the morning but you, their little grump, never gets up before ten unless it's necessary.

"Friday?," the witch murmured over a yawn., "Yes Miss Maximoff?," she tiredly sat up, her arms stretching above her head as she slowly became more conscious of her surroundings., "Where's Y/N?," her lip caught between her teeth while she anxiously awaits an answer.

"It appears Miss Stark left the compound at six in the morning, and their phone is off so I'm unable to pinpoint any location at this time. The last ping was near Central Park at 9am."

"Thanks Fri.," she jumped out of the bed before the AI could even reply, racing to the gym in hopes that maybe Natasha caught you leaving., "Nat?! Have you seen Y/N/N?," the redhead nearly dropped the weight in her hand as the frazzled witch actually managed to startle her.

"What do you mean? Isn't she in bed?," she looked at her watch., "It is only eight honey.," her amused response was met with a glare., "Natasha, if she was in bed I wouldn't have woken up to cold, empty sheets just now."

"Oh.," the redhead felt her heart skip in her chest, her mind now running wild with all the potential scenarios, but before she could spiral too bad she thought of your brother as a good place to check in., "Have you asked Tony?"

The couple left the gym in a rush, heading off to the lab to find Tony laying on the couch with a scrapbook of sorts over his head, and tiny snores gave way to his vulnerable state. Wanda removed the book from his face, the both of them noticed his eyes were rimmed red, and they looked to the book to clue them in on why.

They aww'd at the sight of you, you couldn't have been more than three in the shot, you were wearing a frilly pink dress with the bow to match, you were holding hold a tiny baby doll while sat in Tony's lap next to your mom. You looked so excited as you showed her your baby in the next shot, while she fondly smiled. It wasn't hard to deduce why Tony was crying, and Natasha knew all too well why when she looked at her phone and saw today's date.

"Oh.," the realization hit her hard., "I know where she is Wands, let's go—she's going to need us even if she thinks she doesn't."

—

Chrysanthemum—they were a gorgeous flower really, they bloomed in various shades, and each one of them meant something beautiful. This morning you stopped by the local florists shop to find your arrangement already filled. Miss Stacy gave you a comforting smile, then handed you the bouquet of yellow and white. You bid her a friendly farewell, then continued on your journey throughout the frigid city.

The numbness of your limbs was comforting, it gave you something else to focus on while the warm mug in your hands slowly brought back the feeling with a pained tingle that followed. Part of you wished it was just as easy to bring yourself back from the void; you woke up this morning with nothing inside to offer the world. Wanda's warm embrace did nothing to combat the feeling, or more so the lack thereof, so you slipped on out of the compound around six.

It perplexed you how this day was always a different experience every year for you. There were many years where all you wanted was to celebrate the life of your mother. There were the last few where you left flowers on her grave, then went about your day like normal. Then there were ones like this one where you wanted to curse the very ground she once walked on for leaving you to face this cruel world alone.

Tony was an amazing big brother—really, he took you in without a shred of doubt when you were orphaned at the age of six, and he was freshly twenty-one. He did his very best, and you were always grateful for that, but he just wasn't a suitable replacement for a mom.

When you started your period at thirteen it was his fling of the month that coached you on the process of entering womanhood. The first time you had your heartbroken at the age of sixteen you cried yourself to sleep because he was out. Then there was now, you finally found your shred of happiness in the arms of your lovers, and she wasn't going to be here for any of it.

The wedding was fast approaching after three magical years together, and you were thrilled, but the marking of today left you wondering.

Who was going to help you shop for your fit? Who would throw the engagement party? Who would do your hair and make up? Who'd work through the anticipated cold feet with you? Who'd then tell you how beautiful you looked with tears in their eyes and a warm embrace before sending you off to marry your brides?

The more you pondered it, the more you realize you were not through the grief of it all, and you were perplexed by such a notion. It'd been sixteen years since the tragedy, you've gone to counseling, you found your happy niche in life, but no matter what it wouldn't be enough when you were reminded of all that you lost with her.

A confidant, a best friend, a safe place to go when your prospective kids are bothering you, or just when you're feeling a bit overwhelmed.

Numb was what you were when you entered the diner from your childhood, but as you imagined your wives holding your baby a flip switched and now you were crying into the untouched slice of pie on the table, the pie here was always your mother’s guilty pleasure.

Natasha ushered into the diner first, turning to Wanda she put a finger to her lips, and after knowing she got the message she turned back to face you. There you were sat in the corner, a distant look in your glossy eyes, and she hated that she had overlooked the calendar today.

In her defense though it had been years since you were last in such a headspace, nonetheless she felt bad. Though she'd only been able to call you hers for three years now, you'd held her heart for so much longer than she'd ever admitted to. Wanda wasn't in the picture when she used to help you through days like today, where you were simply a shell of yourself, so this was a moment of necessary adjustment.

"Tasha, why's she crying?," the redhead turned to your other lover with a sad smile., "It's the anniversary of her parents death, she has a hard time with the loss of her mom some years.,” Wanda nodded in understanding, you shared a common ground here, and she's just a bit disheartened to only be finding out now.

"Don't take it personally malysh, I only ever knew because of the gruesome Shield files I had given to Steve many years back."

"Aren't I meant to be the mind reader here?"

Natasha smirked at her lover, she gave her a sweet peck to her lips before she quietly pulled her in the direction of you., "No thank you.," you croaked out your dismissal thinking it was the waitress., "Detka.," you whimpered at the familiar voice of one of your comfort people., "We've already paid the tab lyubov', care to go for a drive?," you looked up when finding the other voice a bit shocking to hear, your lip trembled when you saw both of them, and Wanda swiftly pulled you up and into her.

"Shh, we've got you moya lyubov'.," Wanda coo'd, she tapped your thighs and you jumped to wrap around her., "You're not alone detka.," Nat added as she placed a soft kiss to your temple, then with a hand on Wanda's lower back, and the other on yours she guided the both of you back out to her corvette stingray.

Natasha drove in the direction of the place you had yet to reach today while Wanda held your lightly sobbing form close in the backseat. The drive was long as your parents were buried in a military cemetery on the outskirts of town, so it didn't shock them one bit when your quiet sobs eventually faded into light snores., "I don't want to wake her up, she looks so peaceful."

The redhead gently stroked her fingers over your face in lieu of Wanda's words, you needed this., "Detka—we're here.," you stirred a bit, burying your face into Wanda's shoulder and whined. Both of them chuckled, this grumpy expression is to be expected when you woke up so early., "Lyubov', we’ll be with you the whole time, then after we can go home and snuggle."

Natasha helped you out of the car, in one arm she held your bouquet, and with the other she held you against her while you woke up more. Gently swaying you while humming in a low tone to keep your anxieties at bay until you pulled away from her to get going to her plot.

'Maria Stark. Beloved: Mother. Wife. Daughter. Friend. A precious life gone far too soon, you shall be missed.', you stared blankly at the dirty gravel stone while you settled the flowers into their designated spot, and then you delicately trailed your fingers over the words.

'Beloved Mother.,' rings out in your head, you remember the core things, like the diner, and family movie nights that she'd put together every Friday without fail for you, Tony and her. But beyond that you've lost the rest, the stories Tony would tell you of her immense comfort never resonated with you beyond the wording. The photos show the affections, but your mind yearns aimlessly for a memory of the feeling, desperate to understand that voided love.

Without the love of a mother you start to worry you'll never be enough for your own children. Deep down you know that's ridiculous, neither of your partners had their mother either, but here they were a pair of the most nurturing women you'd ever had the pleasure of meeting.

They loved you for all you were, you knew and felt that, but you still wondered, what if you don't live up to the expectations they have?

Wanda wanted so desperately to hold you, but Nat held her back to give you a solo moment. Your thoughts of inadequacy on your end were so incredibly loud and more so unwarranted. You're doubting your ability to offer the basics of comfort, but you were their safest space. Nothing ever made them happier than being able to come home to you after a long day.

Not to mention you're always the go to person of comfort for Clint's brood, and your niece. Morgan always sought you out when she came to the compound, and she was always reluctant to leave your side come the time to go home. There were even nights where she slept in your shared bed on your chest simply because you just couldn't say no to her sweet little pout.

Morgan honestly went to you for everything from a new scrape on her knee for you to fix, to a drawing she made and was proud of, or to cuddle you after a 'long' day. The little girl worshipped the ground you walked upon, it was relatively obvious, just not to you. When Lila came to the compound she'd ask you for advice, and you'd give it while holding a tiny Nathaniel in your embrace until he fell asleep. Then after all that you'd still agree to an hour or two of Mario Kart against Cooper and Peter.

Sure you were an asshole from time to time, you were a Stark after all, but at the end of the day you were a softie, and endlessly full of love to share. Wanda knows for a fact that you'd be a great mother, Natasha would tell you the same thing too but she's blissful unaware of the current dilemma, but this time when Wanda desperately tried to get to you she let her go.

The brunette squatted down besides you., "Why'd she have to go?," your lip wobbled as you asked your lover an impossible question., "I'm not sure lyubov'.," Wanda gently wiped the fresh falling tears off of your cheeks, then she carefully guided your face into her neck., "It's not fair Y/N/N, but it's the natural cycle."

"I want my mommy.," you sob unabashedly, your hands now clinging to her shoulders for dear life, and she looks up to Natasha shocked., "I-I can't do all of this without her, she should be here!," you shrieked., "I-I, she should have been here to meet you, and to help me navigate through these fucked up sequences of life."

Both of your lovers were at a loss for words, they understood you to some degree, but they'd never be able to understand your feelings here. Grief is obviously different for everyone, Nat and Wanda had no choice but to move right on without the time to dwell, so they're more well adjusted to their motherless circumstances. They still mourn from time to time, but the grief isn't as debilitating as yours seems to be.

"Hi Mrs. Stark.," Natasha softly spoke, and your red rimmed eyes suddenly shot over to hers, your heart stuttered when you saw her crying too., "My name's Natasha Romanoff, but you can just call me Nat, I‘m so happy to finally be meeting you ma’am. Your daughter here is one beautiful half of my heart, and I think it was about time I finally introduced myself."

Wanda was next to speak, taking after Nat., "Hey there ma'am, my names's Wanda, your daughter here calls me 'Wiggly Woo' though.," she teased, eliciting a sad giggle from you, and both of their hearts beamed at the sound., "I'm eternally grateful to you for giving Y/N to the world, I think you'll be happy to know she's grown into a fine woman with a heart of gold."

Wanda met your trembling lips with a delicate kiss, you sighed against her, and she smiled., "You've got nothing to worry about lyubov'.," Wanda watched you in amusement as you quirked your brows., "You're going to be a great mom despite these circumstances.," you looked to her a bit shocked., "I-I'm sorry Wands, were my thoughts too loud again?"

"No, I don't mind it honey, I appreciate it.," her lips pressed to your forehead., "When your mind is being unfairly cruel I want to know.," she reassured you, then you felt another hand grip you softly by your chin., "I do too detka.," you pouted, their show of care overwhelming you slightly, and so Natasha kissed you just the same as Wanda did to offer you reassurance.

"You're not alone here detka, marriage and starting a family are our next steps, but trust me we're just as terrified.," she admitted, and Wanda murmured in agreement., "However, whenever I start to freak out over the unknown I just remember all that I've gained by opening up my heart to the both of you.," her tone was so soft, softer than it had ever been, and that alone helped you to truly feel her sincerity.

"We're learning how to get through these 'fucked up sequences of life' together detka.," she teased while wearing her signature smirk., "That brings me comfort.," you sighed with a genuine smile soon following., "We're glad."

Natasha lifted you off of Wanda and got you settled onto her back, then she helped your other lover off the ground, and helped her to wipe the dirt from her pants., "You ready?," you nodded against her shoulder., "Yeah, take me home please Natty, I crave some cuddles."

—

Once you made it to your room Natasha was whisking you off to the bathroom, but before she could get too far you whined., "Wands.," the witch nearly melted when you reached for her so desperately., "I'll be back lyubov, enjoy your bath while I go make us some cookies.," she winked at your suddenly calmed form., "That's what I thought.," she smiled against your lips as you giggled, then she kissed you just before taking her aforementioned leave.

Natasha was gentle with you, as she always was, but there was something different about her display of tenderness. Her eyes had an unplaceable sheen, there was so much she needed to say, but you could tell she was holding back., "Natty, are you okay?," she sniffed, doing her best to cover up the influx of emotions., "Yes my darling, I'm perfectly fine."

Your hand gently wrapped around her wrist as she was in the middle of washing your body with the loofah., "You can't lie to me Natalia.," she raised her brows., "But cant I though?," her challenge only received an eye roll before you were pulling her hand to your lips., "Okay, how about you shouldn't lie to me.," you placed a kiss to each of her fingertips, then you linked you hands and looked up at her., "I can help."

Natasha squeezed your hand, then she pulled away to finish cleaning your body., "I know, and you do help by just existing before me.," she relayed honestly., "I'm not upset if that's what you think detka, I'm actually so happy."

"Everything I ever wanted is right here.," she paused to help you out of the tub, wrapping a plush robe around your shivering body, then settling her arms around the fabric over your hips, and nuzzled her nose against your own., "You gave me the first chance at love that ever mattered to me Y/N/N, and I can't believe it led us here.," her lips suddenly pecked yours, she just needed to break the gap; to feel you.

"Soon we'll be married, living a picture perfect life with our little witch, and miniature you's.," her finger traced over the entirety of your face, as if her fingertip was scanning your features., "Precious little Y/N's.," she booped your nose, cackling as your face scrunched., "Wanda's?," she nodded., "Yes, eventually Wanda's too."

"Natty?," she hummed, too focused on laying you down on the bed to respond., "Can we name our first daughter after my mom?," she caressed your cheek and smiled down at you., "I don't see why not detka, but we'll wanna talk to Wanda first before I can confirm."

"Talk to me about what?," the witch cheerily squealed as she entered the bedroom., "Our lovely lady here wants to name our daughter after her mother, Maria.," Wanda kissed the redhead, then she joined her in hovering above you., "Maria Romanoff?," she questioned, and you smirked mischievously., "Stark-anoff."

The couple grimaced above you, "Absolutely not.," the two of them shouting in sync caused you to cackle without stop., "Come on guys! It's like the perfect blend of our surnames! Get it?"

"Oh, we got it lyubov'," Wanda chuckled out., "We just didn't want to.," Natasha deadpanned, and you pouted., "Boo, you're both so boring."

"Boring? Or just concerned future parents?," Natasha mused as she began to apply a thin layer of lotion to your legs while Wanda was hovering over your face., "Then what, hm? Maria Alice Stark-Maximoff-Romanoff?"

Wanda placed a hydrating mask over your face, and conveniently for your lovers it layered over you lips as well., "Lyubov', I'm thinking we are better off giving the baby Nat's last name.," you felt the redheads hands freeze., "That way it matches all three of us.," Nat choked., "What?"

"Surprise.," you cheered through the mask, you watched as Nat fully processed what you'd just said through the eye flaps of your mask., "Y-you guys want to take my name?," her normally cool voice wavered, and you noticed her hands were trembling., "Why? I don't understand."

"Natty.," you sat up, leaning into Wanda on the mattress to keep your mask secure, and then you reached out for your vulnerable fiancé., "You take such good care of us Natalia, and we realized there's no one more deserving than you to be the prospective breadwinner here."

"Y/N, you're a millionaire.," she chuckled, you could see her attempts to deflect coming from a mile away., "Yeah, but that's just the dough. It's you that molds it, and then bakes it Natty.,” you say seriously, but with an exaggerated wink, your lovers giggle softly, and you go on., “You keep all of us above water Natasha, you knew exactly where to find me today, and that's because you took the time to learn everything there is to know about us, even the little things that normally wouldn’t matter to a partner.”

“Yeah, like my preference for Pine Sol over Fabuloso.,” Wanda teases., “You berated Tony for a week when he got the wrong product.,” the three of you shared in a bit of laughter, but soon a comfortable silence reclaimed the space.

"This wasn't a hard decision to make Tasha.,” you conveyed genuinely as she fumbled with your hand nervously., “We love you with all of our beings honey, and we take great pride in knowing we'll soon be Romanoff's.”

“The Romanoff’s.,” she whispers, and your heart warms exponentially at her soft tone., “One big, happy family we will be.,” Wanda chimes in, her hands gently remove the mask from your face, and while you hold Nat against your chest she rubs the product into your skin.

“The three of us against the world.,” Natasha utters while pulling back from your hold, her hands move up to cup both of your cheeks., “Our little witch.,” she strokes the apple of her cheek and pulls her forward for a kiss., “Our little grump.,” she snickers, then moves to pull you into her for a kiss that was too short lived judging by the way you whined at the loss.

“What about me?!,” your heads panned over to the locked bedroom door, the softest of knocks follows the little girls voice, and your lovers watched as your once dulled eyes lit up., “Of course Mo, you can be in our posse! Now, what are you doing outside our door little love?”

“Daddy said I needed to give Auntie Y/N/N my magical cuddles today.,” she sings through the oak and you audibly aww’d., “Look at that Mo, your daddy was right for once.,” you shouted, and she giggled., “Pepper must be so proud.,” Natasha whispered, and the lot of you snorted.

“Morgan, baby, how about you come with me so we can get the dinner from the front door?,” Wanda slipped out of the door, preserving your dignity as best she could before disappearing downing the hall to collect the Chinese.

Natasha then returned to finishing up your skincare, she lathered the lotion over every last bit of you, placing kisses whenever she deemed fit, she happily hummed along to her own tune, while her eyes lovingly observed you relaxing., “All done detka.,” she coo’d, your eyes fluttered open and you were met with her hovering face.

“Nuh-uh.,” she looked to you amused., “Oh? Please do tell me what it is I missed then.,” your lips pouted, and the redhead gasped., “Oh yes! A true lovers kiss? How could I forget?!”

Natasha tenderly placed kisses all over your face, she was taking her time getting to your lips and that only made you whine., “Natty.,” she placed her lips over yours, and you were instantly melting into the mattress., “There you go princess, the curse has been broken.”

You rolled your eyes, but smiled nonetheless., “I’m cold Natty.,” she frowned at the info, then she slid a pair of panties on you, then she got you into your favorite fluffy bear onesie, she smirked at you, and you gasped when she held up a tiny version for Morgan to change into.

Natasha was quick to get the little girl cleaned up and into her pajamas for the night after they returned while Wanda set up the food, and you picked out the movie., “Brother Bear.,” you couldn’t help it really, the movie was a perfect fit for the day’s emotional roller coaster ride. Plus, the film was cute, and you could both roar right along with the film in your bear onesies.

“You’re so adorable.,” Wanda groaned, then without Nat present she slipped a cookie into your mouth., “Shh, don’t tell the ‘dinner first’ police.,” you giggled before kissing her deeply in appreciation., “Mm.. Sweet.,” she teased as her tongue slid over yours, and had it not been for the door opening you wonder where this would’ve gone with that twinkle in her eyes.

The three of you settled into the mattress with the little girl snuggled in between you and Nat with loads of takeout, and cookies on the tray over Wanda’s lap for all your hunger needs. After Brother Bear ended Natasha chose to put on Tangled, she said it was for Morgan, but you both knew just how much she loved this film. Wanda’s turn came, and when she put on a documentary about penguins suddenly you all found yourself yawning, and snuggling close.

“I love you Auntie.,” Morgan whispered., “I’m sorry your sad.,” you instantly held her tighter., “I could never be sad with all my girls here.,” you placed a kiss to her cheek., “I love you too.”

Natasha shared a hopeful look with Wanda as they watched the two of you interact, and then slip off into a calm sleep only seconds later., “How did we get so lucky?,” Wanda questions, and Natasha hums with a hand on your face., “I’ve learned it’s best not to question the good that comes ones way Wands, instead you should focus on fostering the happy feeling.”

“So wise you are.,” she snorts, leaning over your bodies she places a kiss to Natasha’s lips. Then she turns the lights of with the flick of her wrist, and the both of them settle down, their arms brushing as they both wrap around you., “Goodnight my loves.,” the little witch yawned., “Goodnight malysh… Goodnight lil bears.,” Nat whispered, then only after hearing all of your even breaths she finally slipped off herself.

———————

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader x natasha romanoff #gxg #natasha x reader #wanda x reader #wanda x you x nat #wanda x nat #wanda x natasha #wanda x nat x reader #wandanat imagine #wandanat x female reader #wandanat x reader #wandanat x y/n #wandanat x you #wandanat fluff #wanda x natasha x reader #ashton 🥺❤️ #multi 🥰

[imagines--galore]

||Mind Over Matter|| Part Fifteen

Summary: Evelyn is Penelope Garcia’s protégé. She is a tech wiz, and knows her way around any kind of security and just like her mentor knows  how to dig deep and get into the past of anyone and has a knack for   anything with a chip in it. Including potato chips. The one thing she fails at is figuring out is the mind and how it works.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Evelyn Richardson(OC)

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Adventure. Family. Some language, blood and violence in later installments.

Previously - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen

A/N: A brief intro to someone from Evelyn’s past!

"Evelyn? Mind handing me that box of files?"

Silence greeted the young Doctor's request. A few seconds passed before he glanced up from the file he had been thumbing through, only to frown slightly at the sight of his friend staring blankly at the screen of her phone.

"Evelyn?" He spoke again, this time a little more loudly. No response.

Leaning forward he placed a hand on her shoulder. "Eve?" Despite his voice being gentle and low, the red head jumped, startled. Quickly putting her phone away, she sniffed before turning to Reid.

"Sorry Spence, I was thinking about something. What did you say you need?" She asked, eyes blinking rapidly behind her glasses. Spencer frowned. "That box." He pointed to the one right beside her. Nodding, the woman quickly slid the box over to him before turning her attention to the laptop screen she had opened in front of her. Though he had begun to rummage in the box for whatever file he needed, Spencer did not miss the way Evelyn brushed at her cheek where a tear had escaped. Not wanting to pry at the moment, he made a note to ask what was troubling her later.

                                              ————————–

"That was quite the lucky break Ginger." Morgan commented, smiling slightly at the petite red head, who merely shrugged in response. "It was really chance on my part. I mean its unbelievable how narcissistic the man was that he wanted to watch as we went over the crime scenes. He really didn't think he'd get caught." She muttered incredulously under her breath as she packed up her laptop in her bag.

Her mind was still reeling from what had happened in the past couple of days. The Unsub picked up the three victims and one would be victim at rather upscale and luxurious locations before charming them and courting them for exactly two weeks. Flowers, dinners, dancing, nighttime walks. The works.

And then at the end of the second week, he would insist on coming to their home for the first time. He would sleep with them and afterwards, insisting that since they had had the best two weeks of their lives what more could they have asked for before killing them. Of course, he wouldn't kill them immediately. The Unsub, later named Julian Black, would give them some form of anesthesia that would have them feeling numb around the area where he would then stab them so they would not feel any pain. Afterwards, he would watch them lay there, helpless and vulnerable, as the bled to death.

He had been in the process of courting his fourth victim when Evelyn, wanting to see if there was perhaps a hidden USB the last victim had been using to keep her more personal files safe, had stumbled upon the tiny camera while on the hunt. The Unsub had not been monitoring his feed at the time, and the red head had been quick when it came to tracking where the signal for the camera pinged. Within half an hour the FBI had apprehended Julian Black and led him away in cuffs.

Job done and killer behind bars, the BAU were now packing up. Though since it was nearly midnight Hotch had given the order for everyone to rest up for the night. They would be heading back to Quantico in the morning.

Emily smiled at the younger Agent. "Still, it was rather quick work on your part. I'm sure Penelope will be proud of you." Evelyn blushed at the praise, smiling brightly as she shouldered her bag. "Are you saying she isn't proud of me on a normal basis Emily?" She questioned, the teasing lilt in her tone evident as she raised an eyebrow at her friend.

The dark haired woman rolled her eyes. "Don't go fishing for compliments Richardson, you need to earn 'em." She called over her shoulder as she exited the room. Whatever retort Evelyn was about the give died on her lips the very moment her bright blue eyes focused on the person who had just entered the room they had been using to conduct all their research. The smile dropped from her lips, the light in her eyes dimmed, her shoulders slumped, and she appeared to make herself smaller. Smaller then she already was.

"D-Diana."

She whispered softly, prompting Morgan and Spencer, both of whom had been helping put away everything for later evidence, to stop what they were doing and turn their attention to the newcomer.

She was gorgeous, there was no denying that. Beautiful long blonde locks, bright blue eyes, a perfect heart shaped face and small nose with a set of full lips. Tall, with curves in all the right places, and dressed head to toe in designer attire. There was the telltale sign of a baby bump showcasing that she was not that far along, and that only seemed to add to her aesthetic. Of course, all that beauty was for naught given that her lips were pulled into a vicious smile and her eyes full of hatred and anger.

"Were you really about to go without even saying hello to your older sister? Aww Evelyn. I'm hurt." She spoke in a voice dripping with sarcasm, walking forward, towering over the red head.

Evelyn shook her head. "N-no. I-I was just b-busy with the c-case." She managed to stammer, eyes darting to her friends. Suddenly she flinched seeing Diana lift her hand. Only to relax when she simply placed a finger under her own lips as she assessed her sister. The flinch wasn't missed by the two profilers. Obviously Diana had hit Evelyn in the past given how the latter had reacted. Though the two men were still trying to wrap their head around the fact that they were looking at Evelyn's sister. They had known she had an older sibling, but one living in New York, so closely connected to their case? That was new information.

Diana nodded. "I'm sure you were. Though if you had gotten here sooner I wouldn't have lost my best friend." Evelyn flinched at the mention of the third victim. Morgan, bless his soul, jumped in to save her. "We were only informed of the case after Hailey's body was found. And it was your sister's quick thinking that we were able to catch the killer." Sharp blue eyes glanced carelessly in his direction before they were back on Evelyn. "I'm surprised she didn't manage to screw it up like she does everything." The words cut deep, prompting the red head to inhale sharply to try and steady her rapidly beating heart.

"Diana…I-" She was cut off when her sister cast her a hard look. "Did I say you could speak?" The other two Agents were absolutely stunned with the way Diana was speaking to their friend. Before Morgan could say anything, Reid had already stepped forward and placed his hand on Evelyn's shoulder, pulling her away from the taller blonde and stepping in her place. His face was unreadable as he fixed his gaze on Diana. 

"If you're only going to speak to her like that I suggest you leave." He spoke coldly. The woman growled under her breath before sparing Evelyn one last glare, where she was staring at her sister from over Reid's shoulder. "I see you're still letting someone else fight your battles for you." The blonde turned on her heel and stalked out of the room. She paused at the door, glancing back at her cowering sister. "Even as an FBI Agent you're just as pathetic as you were when we were kids."

And then she was gone.

Stunned silence followed her exit. Morgan and Reid both turned their attention towards Evelyn. Her eyes swam with unshed tears, and her body was trembling. Her knuckles were white from where she had been gripping the strap of her bag.

"Evelyn? What was-"

"I have to go." Without even giving Morgan a chance to finish his question, Evelyn darted out from behind Reid and out of the room, leaving two stunned men in her wake.

                                              ————————–

An hour later found Morgan exhausted and saddened as he stepped out of Evelyn's room at the hotel. He very nearly ran into Reid who had been standing just outside. Morgan had offered to check in on Evelyn first, while Reid had made a quick detour to his room to change out of the clothes he had been wearing the entire day. He had opted for a plain t-shirt and plaid pajama pants, with a hastily tied dressing gown over it. The older Agent pursed his lips before sighing. "You can go in, but I don't think she has the strength to talk about it again." Reid glanced at the door over Morgan's shoulder, before shaking his head.

"I just want to make sure she's alright."

Nodding Morgan patted him on the shoulder before disappearing down the hall towards his own room. Neither of them had spoken to anyone else on the Team about what had occurred. Both of them had decided that it would be Evelyn's decision at that front. Hesitating for just a moment, Spencer inhaled deeply through his nose before gently knocking against the maroon colored door. "Evelyn? Its me. Can I come in?"

There was no response. Spencer was just about to turn away, thinking that perhaps she wanted to be alone, when the handle turned, allowing the door to stand slightly ajar. Taking it as his invitation, Spencer stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. The room was spacious and was one with a balcony. Evelyn had left the sliding doors open to allow the midnight breeze to cool her room. The girl in question had walked back to her spot on the bed. Laying down on the soft mattress, dressed in an oversized shirt and faded pajama pants, she lay there with her gaze trained towards the ceiling.

Spencer was so used to seeing them shimmer with a range of different emotions. From laughter and anger, to confusion and distaste. But right then they were dull and lifeless. And sad. And alone. She gently patted the spot beside her. Walking over to her, he settled down next to her staring up at the ceiling as well. The bed was just big enough for the two of them, leaving barely any space between them.

"You talk to Morgan?" A meek nod followed his question.

Silence.

"Are you alright?" A slight shake of the head was his response.

Silence.

"I'm not the best when it comes to these things but if you want to talk some more, I'm here."

Silence. And this one stretched on for a good few minutes before her lips parted and she spoke. "Even after so many years, she still hates me." Spencer turned his head to focus his gaze on her. "I don't know what I did, but ever since I can remember she has always hated me." A sigh followed her words. "And she refuses to tell me what it is that I did. Now I think she hates me because she has hated me her entire life and just can't associate any other emotion when it comes to me."

He stayed quiet. "I'm sure that whatever you did, if you even did anything, you didn't mean any harm." Spencer had his doubts that Evelyn had done something wrong. She was the kindest most caring person he had ever met so far in his life and he doubted she had ever done any person any harm intentionally. Her gaze turned to him, and he realized that she wasn't wearing her glasses. Without the wide frame of her glasses, her features appeared delicate and soft.

"I was always envious of her. Still am. When we were kids she was always the one with all the friends. And even back then she was so beautiful. People refused to believe that we were even sisters since we look nothing alike and given how plain I am." He hummed once she finished speaking. "Typically the older child is the object of envy for the younger child, since they have more expectations to live up to."

The red head nodded, unconsciously leaning her head against his shoulder, scooting just a little closer to him. "I know. It's the natural order of things." For his part Spencer turned on his side and wrapped his arm around her waist. The change in his position had her head shifting to rest on his chest instead, right above his heart. Another few minutes of silence, before a sniffle was heard.

"I just sometimes wish she would see me as her sister. I even made a birthday wish about that once." A tearful laugh escaped her lips as she recalled her childhood memory. His other hand lifted to gently run his fingers through her brilliant red locks. Evelyn's hands rested against his chest, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt, as if she were afraid he would suddenly leave. "I know that it doesn't make up for it but you can always adopt Garcia as your older sister."

A chuckle sounded from her, prompting him to smile as well at her words. "I think mother-hen is a better fit for her." He laughed softly, his gaze soft as he looked at her. "You're probably right. JJ then and I suppose in time Emily as well." Evelyn nodded against his chest, tilting her head back to look at him. "Then I suppose Morgan is my older brother. Given how protective he is." Spencer hummed in agreement, feeling his eyelids start to grow heavy. "And Hotch and Gideon your father figures." The red head made a small noise of agreement as she yawned. Her lips were pulled into a smile though as she thought about the family she had made over the years.

Snuggling closer to Spencer, she inhaled deeply, taking in his unique scent. "What about you?"

The man blinked. "What about me?"

Her blue eyes found his hazel gaze. "What title do you hold in my make-shift family?" The Genius thought for a few seconds before shrugging. "I don't know. What title do you think fits me as someone in your life?"

Pursing her lips slightly, Evelyn allowed her eyes to slide close mind pondering on the question. The answer though came not from her brain, but from her heart and the words rose to her lips unbidden, unfiltered and with no hesitation.

"My best friend." Came her sleepy reply, which was followed by a sleepy kiss to his cheek on her part.

Spencer lay there stunned. He took in her half-asleep state. The gentle smile on her lips and her heavily lidded eyes, her breath beginning to even out as she fell asleep. Her eyelids fluttered as she fought to stay awake. A warmth spread through him at her words. One that finally came to settle in his chest. Pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead he whispered against her soft skin. "And you are mine." Humming sleepily Evelyn snuggled even closer to Spencer, greedily seeking his body heat as she slowly succumbed to sleep.

"And Evelyn?"

"Hmm?"

"I don't know how anyone wouldn't think you're pretty…"

"That's because I'm not…"

"You're beautiful."

"Thanks Spence. You're beautiful too."

"You're welcome Evie."

The words slurred as they both drifted off to sleep. Evelyn with her head resting near Spencer's chest, one hand resting against his chest, the other resting atop him, just under his shoulder. And Spencer, for his part, slept with one arm under her waist and the other lifted at a slightly odd angle so that his fingers could tangle in her red hair.

Neither stirred the entire night. Not by the cold breeze. Or nightmares.

                                             ————————–

Tag List - molethemollie @cillsnostalgia @aceofspades190  @kathaaaaaaa @lovelyygirl8 

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #spencer x oc #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid x oc #dr spencer reid x y/n #Criminal Minds #criminal minds imagine

[owl127]

@ianthesmells in her endless talent and grace, drew Anubis from "Coffee & Scones" universe. So of course I had to write a drabble about it. --

There was a point of exhaustion when the letters on the Harrow’s laptop screen were an artistic display of unrecognizable forms and shapes. As her power point deck shimmered while performing aquatic dances instead of the data summary Harrow needed, she called it a night. Her phone blinked on the hotel’s nightstand, silent and ignored. Dulcinea had insisted on going to the bars with the other grad students, and she undoubtedly was sending Harrow unimportant photos to document the night’s proclivities. Harrow was not interested.

There was a lack of honor in the inebriation that Harrow despised.

Besides, she was the last presenter of the conference, and breakfast started at 7am sharp. There was no time for banal things such as “networking”.

She picked her phone to text Ianthe—her girlfriend was extremely efficient in calming Harrow’s nerves for her presentation—but frowned at the multiple pings from her plethora of diverse messaging apps; that is, all two of them.

She opened Instagram with a trembling finger.

Her first reaction wasn’t shock, since it took a good ten seconds for Harrow to recognize Anubis. Once she did, her cheeks burned with a drizzling mix of anger and amusement.

Much like his owner, Anubis was petite, a once tiny little black runt that grew into a tiny black demon. He had a history of fighting against collars, so Harrow never attempted to indulge herself by forcing him into funny little blankets shaped like denim jackets.

That was why, when she finally recognized her cat in a sheep costume framed by Coronabeth’s cleavage, she squeaked in surprise. To her horror, the little cricket looked adorable, and Corona’s massive volleyball fans had already adopted him as a mascot, with thousands of notifications in the photo. There was also a video of Anubis prancing around in the immaculate sheep uniform, his ears poking from the furry headset like sharp rocks on a field of camellias. Corona took the stage presenting the adorable cat, but Harrow knew better. She knew who was recording it, who had probably ordered the costume, and who had tagged Harrow in the viral videos.

“Hi, love. How’s the conference?” Ianthe picked up on the second ring. Harrow heard Corona’s voice in the background, and a suspicious purr that meant Anubis was around and enjoying the attention overflow.

“That’s animal abuse.”

“What do you mean?” 

Harrow heard the tilt in Ianthe’s voice. She knew exactly what Harrow meant, and she loved it.

“I left him with you for forty-eight hours and you already defamed him.”

“Harry,” Ianthe started, and Anubis meowed in the background, followed by Corona’s squeak. “The poor thing was cold, and Corona happened to snap a picture. He’s enjoying fame.”

“Leave him alone.”

“He already has his own TikTok and Instagram account.” At least there was a tinge of apology in Ianthe’s tone.

“Ianthe,” Harrow warned.

“Corona and Camilla will run it. And we can have more privacy at your place while they petsit him.”

“My place is fine!”

“Tell that to Anubis when he’s staring me down while I strap—”

Harrow hung up.

A minute later, Ianthe called. Harrow picked up after the third call.

“He’s okay, I promise,” Ianthe said as a greeting, and the background noise diminished. Harrow imagined Ianthe hiding from her sister’s enthusiasm in her room. “You know I’d never let anything bad happen to him.”

“I just want to be informed before I receive hundreds of follow requests because my cat looked adorable in a sheep costume.”

“Aww, so you also think he’s adorable?”

“You’re deflecting.” Harrow closed her eyes, letting the exhaustion from the day wash over her. “I miss you,” she whispered.

“I miss you too. You’ll do fine tomorrow. I promise.”

There was something visceral in believing a promise from Ianthe Tridentarius’ mouth. A chill ran down her vertebrae.

“Also, what are you wearing?”

She might as well use the energy into something good.

#drabble #coffee and scones #coffee&scones #coffee & scones #harrianthe #soft harrianthe #harryanthe #the locked tomb #the locked tomb fanfiction #harrow the ninth #harrowhark nonagesimus #ianthe tridentarius #coronabeth tridentarius #corona being corona #she loves that cat #we all love that cat #gideon has her doubts but in the end she also loves that cat #hard love #ianthesmells this is the utmost form of praise for a writer #I'm in love #thank you

[jate-kara]

Horizon | On AO3

Thirty-seven hours.

Andal had told himself he’d stop counting after twenty-four. It was his usual compromise: worry for a while, and then let it go. Focus on your work. Don't get distracted. Do some extra training when you get too restless. This was all familiar agony by now. The field was for his Hunters. The Tower was for the Vanguard.

Traveler, sometimes he wished he’d never accepted that damn Dare.

Andal risked another glance at the clock. Zavala was at the head of the conference table and still deep in conversation with Saladin. He wasn't likely to catch the fourth check in two minutes. Ikora, though - she knew. Andal felt her shoot him a worried side-eye from somewhere to his left. He pretended he didn't notice. His datapad had sat untouched in front of him for so long that the screen had gone dark, so despite the stylus he'd been toying with to at least look sort of busy, it was painfully evident that he was not paying any amount of the requisite attention. Shit.

He clicked the datapad on again, more to avoid Ikora's concern than to actually accomplish anything. His notes were messy and scattered. The notifications were equally cluttered. Mission report submission flags. Memos from scheduled check-ins. Updates from secondary Scouts he'd sent out after the primary Hunter for the mission had dropped off the map for too long. Sometimes, that was just Hunters being Hunters. Other times, that was Hunters being dead. Andal scanned the updates. There was nothing new.

There was nothing that would stop the clock he was supposed to have started ignoring thirteen hours ago.

The meeting ended an hour late. Andal was the first one up. As soon as he rounded the hall corner and was out of the others' immediate sight, he let the Void wash over him. Technically, using the Light to go invisible in the Tower was frowned upon. Only technically. And he had no intentions of getting caught, just like he had no intentions of speaking to anyone between here and his Vanguard office. His head was spinning. He had to remember to breathe. He had no idea what the hell anyone had been talking about for the last three hours.

He needed out of this damn Tower.

He didn't go to his Vanguard office. He climbed up to the highest point of the Tower that he could find and he dangled his legs over the edge and he looked at the City and the world beyond its horizon and he wanted to scream. Shiro and Tevis and Cayde were out there somewhere, each on their own assignments. He'd put them on a special check-in schedule, one that guaranteed he'd be able to talk to them, no matter how briefly. They were supposed to call one after the other: Shiro, then Tevis, then Cayde. But he hadn't heard from any of them in thirty-eight hours. Even meticulous, responsible Shiro had missed the last window; there hadn't been so much as a ping from his Ghost to say he was still alive.

Andal dropped his head into his hands and dragged his fingernails along his scalp. He'd pulled his long hair up into a messy bun a while ago, too distracted to bother with brushing it. Cayde would fuss over him if he saw it - Haven’t taken a break lately, huh? - and then gently undo and untangle it. Andal closed his eyes and imagined it, just for a second. That warmth. That peace.

He'd kill for that right now.

"I'm sure they're fine." Astraea materialized beside him. "They're just…busy.”

I should be there with them. The words died in his throat. He’d made his choice when he’d accepted the Dare. This was his life now, and had been for well over a year. Him, here, with the Vanguard and the bureaucrats, while his most important people in the world were out there. Maybe in danger. Without him. For the rest of eternity, unless some other Hunter stepped up and said they wanted the job. Or he died. In which case it was Cayde's problem.

Andal drove his palms into his eyes. “Get a grip,” he groaned, and was glad Astraea knew him well enough to know when he was talking to himself, and not at her. “Not like any of this is new.”

Astraea bumped his shoulder. Andal patted at her absently. "Thanks," he muttered. "Sorry I'm not the best company right now."

His comm buzzed before she had the chance to respond. Andal scrambled to answer it. He recognized the code immediately. "Shiro, you all right?"

There was a long, weighted pause. "Are you?"

Damn, he really did need to pull it together.  "You missed your check-in," Andal said, instead of explaining the crack in his voice. "I thought-"

"Sorry about that. Ran into some comm interference unexpectedly. I've got the patrol data and I'm making the return trip. So I'll ask you again: what happened to you?"

There was no good way to answer that. "Vanguard stuff," he said. "Nothing to worry about."

"Cayde and Tevis haven't checked in either, have they?" It sounded more like a statement than a question. Shiro really had a way of seeing through bullshit. It was very useful when it was leveled at Cayde or Tevis. Not so much right now.

Andal blew out a breath. "No. Not for a while."

"You know Tevis doesn't check in because he doesn't want to, and Cayde is…Cayde. They're probably fine."

"I know."

Shiro gave a disbelieving huff. "I'll be back at the Tower in a few hours. We can go over the patrol data then, unless you have other obligations."

Shiro didn't need to come all the way back to the Tower to go over data. It was something they could easily manage through a few messages or comm calls. Some of the tightness in Andal's chest eased. "I don't," he said, without checking his schedule. "I'll meet you in my office when you get here."

It turned out maybe he should have checked his schedule, because when he finally made his way back down into the inhabited part of the Tower, Zavala was standing outside his door. Andal came to a slow stop. The Commander wasn't holding a datapad so they probably didn't have a meeting Andal had forgotten about, and he didn't have a severe expression, so Andal probably hadn't done anything to warrant a reprimand.

"Something I can help you with?" Andal asked, crossing his arms and propping a shoulder against the wall.

Zavala watched him with a furrowed brow. He was quiet for a moment, as though he was trying to figure out how to say what he wanted to say. "You seemed - distracted, earlier today. I wanted to-"

"I'm fine." Oh, way to go, Brask. Top points for selling that one.

Zavala studied him. "You've received a great deal of difficult reports in the last week," he said. "If there's anything I can-"

"Look, I appreciate it, but there's nothing to worry about." Andal tried for a smile, and knew it didn't reach his eyes. He pushed himself up off the wall, then moved to access the keypad for his office. Zavala stepped out of the way, but he didn't go any farther. Andal shot him a glance as the door opened. "That all?"

There was a tired defeat in Zavala’s eyes. "Yes," he said quietly. "Goodnight, Andal."

Andal stepped in, swiped the door shut,  and slid down against the wall beside it. He didn't bother turning on the lights. The only source of illumination was the moonbeams streaming through the floor to ceiling windows, and the muted glow of the City below. Andal leaned his head back and let his eyes slip shut.

"He's just trying to help," Astraea said. She sounded disapproving. Andal kept his eyes closed. She nudged his shoulder - once, and then again when he didn't move.

"I know," he allowed.

"He's your friend. So is Ikora. I know you saw her message yesterday."

"I didn't say that I didn't."

"But you didn't answer her."

"She's got enough going on without me adding to it."

"They're worried about you."

"I'm fine."

The lights clicked on. Andal jumped, and was halfway to his feet when the sound of the door opening finally registered, like the information had been caught in a buffer before it hit his brain.

Shiro stared down at him as if he'd just found him half dead in a pit and not slumped pathetically in his office. "'Fine'," he repeated. "Yeah, you sure look fine."

"You're okay," Andal said, like it wasn't obvious.

"Is there some reason you thought I wouldn't be? It was just a patrol, Andal. Very routine."

Almost every one of the dead Hunters' missions had been routine. Andal blinked at him. "Uh. No?"

"If you want me to believe you, don't phrase that like a question." Shiro eased to the floor beside him, close enough that their shoulders were pressed together. Some of the tension strung along Andal's spine released. "You want to tell me what's going on, or do you want me to drag Cayde back here for you?"

"Are those my only two options?"

"Well, I can get Tev, but he'll probably make you buy him a drink before he'll listen."

Andal managed something close to a laugh. "If I pull him off recon to come back to the Tower, you'll need to find another Vanguard. He'll kill me. He hates it here more than I do right-"

He cut himself off too late. Shiro tilted his head at him, and Andal shrugged helplessly. "Forget I said anything," he said, as if that had ever dissuaded Shiro before.

It hadn't. And it didn't this time. Shiro's gaze was considering. "Is it the Tower, or someone in it?"

That look was distinctly Tevis. Andal shoved at Shiro's shoulder, to at least jar him out of it. "It's the Tower. And even if it wasn't, you can't just shoot someone for bothering me."

"Hey, I'd make sure they were a Lightbearer first."

There was no grin in Shiro's voice. Andal wanted to believe it had been a joke. No, he was going to believe it. For his own sanity. He scrubbed at his eyes. Shiro waited.

"It's the Tower," Andal said again. "It's always the damn Tower. I'm up here sending the Hunters out but it's never me getting shot at."

"Ah." Shiro didn't sound surprised, just thoughtful. "Someone took a hit and didn't get back up."

"Three fireteams in the last week." Andal's voice cracked. He felt more than saw Shiro shift, so he was pressed a little closer.

"We all know the risks."

"We had bad information." The words tasted acrid. Like an excuse. "The assignments I gave them went sideways because of it."

"You do what you can with what you have, and so do they."

Andal's heart turned painfully. "One of these times," he whispered, a voice for the fear burning in his chest, "it could be you. Or Tevis. Or Cayde."

"Maybe. But I've always known that, even before you were Vanguard. If anything happened, I wouldn't blame you, Andal. I'd appreciate it if you respected that enough to not blame yourself."

Shiro never did waste time dancing around the point. Andal opened his mouth to argue, but one glance at Shiro's unwavering stare was enough to kill the protest before it started. "All right," he said, and held his hands up in mock surrender. "I get it."

"You don't. But you'll get there."

Andal elbowed him. Shiro was unaffected. "I know you well enough to know this isn't the last time we're going to have this conversation. That's fine. I'll say it as many times as you need me to."

Breathing hurt, suddenly. "Thanks," Andal said, more quietly than he'd meant to.

"You don't have to thank me. Just remember what I said." Shiro's expression shifted, from resolved to concerned. "You've been Vanguard for a while. This isn't the first time this kind of thing has happened. Tell me you've been talking to someone when it does."

Andal didn't answer. 

"Andal."

"...does Astraea count?"

"He doesn't talk to me about it," Astraea interjected. "He just says he's fine and not to worry about him."

Shiro heaved a soul-weary sigh. "I don't know what I expected."

Andal grimaced. "Sorry. I probably owe you a drink after all this."

"You don't owe me anything."

"Pretty sure I was supposed to give you some glimmer at some point."

That earned him a chuckle. "Keep it. I've heard Vanguard pay is terrible."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence. Andal let it be for a moment, and then he broke it. "You know, it'd be easier to see the stars out there if you'd left the lights off."

"So go turn the lights off."

"I didn't turn them on. You do it."

Shiro held up one sparking finger. "Don't fry my office," Andal grumbled, pushing himself to his feet so he could cross the room to the lightswitch. "Damned Bladedancer."

Halfway there, his comm chimed, and his heart leapt into his throat. He barely registered the code as he fumbled to swipe the screen on. "Cayde?"

"I'm sorry," Cayde blurted. He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. "Just realized I missed the last check-in. Sundance reminded me. Fallen were shooting at us. I was shooting back. It was a mess. Glad we made - hey, are you okay?"

"Do I look not okay?"

Cayde made a show of scrutinizing him. "Huh," he said, and nothing else.

Despite the relief flooding his chest, Andal wanted to strangle him. "What do you mean, 'huh'?"

"Just huh," Cayde returned. "How's the Tower?"

"A lot quieter when you're not in it."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"You tell me." Andal's datapad pinged an alert - Tevis sending a short summary of his findings, which usually amounted to about three sentences: Went to the Place. Killed the enemies. Left the Place. This one had an extra few at the end. Shiro told me to check in more. I'm not doing that. ~ T.L.

"Andal?"

"Tevis sent me his report. He was nice enough to leave the location tag on it. He's somewhere in the City. And he missed every check-in."

Cayde tried to stifle his laugh. "Sorry, I know it's not funny," he said, through the palm he'd plastered over his mouth.

"Yeah, I can tell," Andal said dryly. "Don't you have your own report to be writing right about now?"

"No, because right now I'm talking to my beloved Vanguard."

It was far from the sappiest thing Cayde had ever said. It still made Andal's heart melt. "Fine," he said, trying for a measure of sternness and completely and utterly failing. "Do it later."

"He won't," Shiro supplied, exasperated, and Cayde sputtered some kind of protest. Andal barely heard it. He hit the lights, settled down next to Shiro, and listened to them bicker. If he closed his eyes, he was back with the crew, laughing around a campfire under a blanket of stars. The air was crisp and cool and their eyes were shining and no one was dead. He breathed and his chest didn't hurt.

He breathed, and for a while, it felt like peace.

—

Peace did not last long: only until the next morning, actually, when he woke up on his office couch with his neck at a bad angle and his limbs tangled in a survival pack blanket that didn't belong to him but had trim in Shiro's signature yellow. The sun was streaming through the windows, he couldn't move his head more than a few degrees to the left - and someone was banging on his door. Andal blinked blankly at it for a few beats. He didn't have meetings early.

"Good morning!" Astraea chirped, like the world's happiest alarm clock. "It's almost noon."

Andal cast her a sour look as he dug around in search of his datapad. "Hello?" he croaked, and cursed his dry throat.

The banging stopped. Small mercy. Andal untangled himself the rest of the way from the blanket and stumbled from one end of the office to the other until he realized his boots were right next to the couch the whole time. "Could just cloak and go out the window," he muttered, and shuffled over to slam the door release.

Lord Shaxx was not a frequent visitor; he hadn't been even before Twilight Gap had taken him from a position in the old Vanguard to Crucible handler. There were no meetings on Andal's schedule. He hadn't agreed to any Crucible match he could remember. But Shaxx was still here, fully armored, with his hands on his hips.

"Shaxx," Andal said, haltingly. "Something I can help you with?"

"You're alive! Good. Come with me."

Andal jogged to catch up, acutely aware of Astraea's amused hum and his own disheveled appearance. "If I missed a meeting, you have my apologies. But you could just send me a message."

Shaxx gave a booming laugh. "You aren't missing anything," he said, like that made whatever he was talking about obvious. "But you think you are. And I have a solution."

"Your solution to everything is a Crucible match."

"Not quite."

Shaxx led him out of the Tower, and then out of the City, all the way to the outskirts. To the Wall. To the gaping wound in it. Andal slowed to a stop. The wind was just as cutting now as it had been then, but today, there was no fire or smoke or seething ruin. The sky was clear for miles. Flowers had grown over the rubble, and they waved gently in the breeze. No death. No bodies. No blood. Just old scars, and a quiet peace.

Andal turned to Shaxx, stricken. "Why here?"

"Where else?" Shaxx's volume had dropped, but his voice was no less powerful for its softness. He took a few steps forward and rested a hand on the wound in the Wall. "You remember that day as well as I do."

"Everyone in the City remembers Twilight Gap."

"'Everyone', you say, as if you didn't lead a charge off the Wall and into the fray yourself. As if you didn't hunt the Fallen to the end of the pass alone. No ammunition. You'd lost your knife. All you had was your will, and your Light."

"Are you going somewhere with this?"

"Tell me, Brask: do your Hunters follow you of their own free will?"

Andal bit back a sigh. "Do you think there's anyone in the damn world who could get that many Hunters to do something they didn't want to do?"

"No," Shaxx said simply.

Andal dragged a hand through the mess that was his hair. Half of it had come free of the bun when he'd been asleep, and he'd pulled it apart the rest of the way on the walk to the Wall. The wind cutting down through the mountain pass blew it across his face, so instead of answering Shaxx, he focused on tying it back.

Shaxx was still staring at him once he finished. "Zavala thinks you need time. Ikora says to give you space. I think you've had enough of both. What you need is a reminder.

"A reminder?"

"That there is a reason for the Hunters' belief in you. That you would give your life for the City as readily as any of them. That your leadership from the Tower is not cowardice. That there is no shame in your grief, and that it is not weakness to ask another for their strength."

The words rang between them. Shaxx let the echo hang there, and Andal didn't try to dispel it. He didn't want to crack a joke, or bury the ache building in his chest. He wanted to breathe without the crushing weight. He wanted to hear Shiro weave a story again. He wanted to see Tevis give that rare grin. He wanted the warmth of Cayde’s arms around him. He wanted the open air and the faint light of the stars above. But he was caught between the familiar agony and the City's horizon: always reaching for a world he could no longer touch. Always mourning the deaths he couldn't prevent. Always wondering who might be next.

Andal crossed his arms against the wind's chill. "I wish it felt like enough," he said.

Shaxx relaxed his stance: less proud warrior and more gentle giant. "I know," he returned, and what he didn't say, Andal heard anyway. There was a reason it was so hard to find Hunters willing to be the Vanguard: why Tallulah had made that bet with the Ahamkara, why Caliban had lamented his fate when the role fell to him after, and then dropped off the map, and why every successor since had either died or disappeared, too. The Tower wasn't a cage like Cayde seemed to think, but it kept them separate from the Hunters they sought to unite. They could plan and guide and inspire all they wanted: it wouldn't change the fact that they couldn't stand shoulder-to-shoulder with their Scouts. Sooner or later, it drove them to desperate recklessness. Sooner or later, one way or another, it got them killed.

Andal met Shaxx's line of sight, and knew, even through the helmet, that his gaze was steel. "I know what you're trying to do," Andal said, with a rueful shake of the head. "You don't have to. I'm not going to go off the deep end."

Shaxx didn't move, except to square his shoulders. There was a current of tension to his stance that hadn't been there before. "It's a funny thing," he said. "Caliban said something similar to me once. And where is he now?

"I'm not Caliban."

"Neither was Aparajita. Or Kauko Swiftriver."

"I'm not them either," Andal shot back. "I gave my word when I accepted the Dare. I'm Vanguard now. It's my responsibility. That won't change. I just - I wish I could be out there with them."

The words left him like they'd been forced out by a blow to the chest: explosive and desperate. Shaxx considered him for a long moment. He didn't look convinced, not even a little, but he didn't push further. In the distance, the sun was sinking below the mountains. Shaxx turned to that instead, and Andal followed him. They stayed in the quiet of the Gap until the fire of the sunset had faded into twilight. Then, with a thunderous clap to his shoulder, Shaxx left for the City.

Andal propped himself up against some overgrown rubble and dug his datapad out of his pack. He wanted to put it back immediately. Every Hunter he'd dispatched on a mission in the last two months had apparently decided to send in their reports at the same time. His messages were a veritable flood

"Not dealing with that right now," Andal muttered, and scrolled past them. The rest was standard - Vanguard shit, a couple pings from Shiro for no reason besides saying hello, a single line from Tevis's datapad that just said Checking in - from Shiro, Tev is with me - and sixteen missed calls from Cayde. Andal jolted upright, then immediately relaxed. The most recent call had a short note attached: sorry - sat on my datapad. <3

Warmth swelled in Andal's chest, and stayed there all the way back to the Tower. His Vanguard apartment was tucked in the lower levels, far from any hum of activity. It made the chances of running into a Consensus lackey significantly slimmer - which was good, because he didn't have that much patience for them on his best days, and all he wanted to do now was clean up, make some tea, call Cayde, and settle in on the couch to maybe review at least some of the report deluge.

Right after he figured out why the damn door was already unlocked. Andal reached for his knife, called the Void, and slipped inside without a sound. Nothing out of place in the entryway - except an extra pair of boots that most certainly did not belong to him, and a familiar cloak hanging on the hook.

The Void receded in a rush. He heard more than saw Astraea lock the door behind him. "Cayde?" Andal called, sheathing his blade and toeing off his own boots.

A soft noise came from the pile of blankets on the couch. Andal made it to Cayde's side just in time to see him shoot upright and fling the blankets off. "Damn it," Cayde muttered. His shoulders slumped. "I was gonna make you dinner."

This close, Andal could see the telltale signs of exhaustion. Cayde had a particular way of holding himself when he'd gone too long without stopping; that thin strand of tension was corded through his frame as if it was the only thing holding him up. "Sorry," he mumbled, and stifled a yawn. "Got in early, took a shower and thought, hey, what's five minutes. Turns out it was not five minutes."

"Are those my clothes?" Andal asked, amused.

Cayde looked down at himself like it was a surprise. He'd stolen a simple pair of black sweatpants and a soft navy blue jacket that he'd only bothered to zip up a quarter of the way. "Maybe."

"Either they are or they aren't. There's no maybe option."

"Maybe," Cayde said again, with more conviction.

Andal fought the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he kneeled next to the couch. "You look tired," he said, pushing a careful palm against Cayde's exposed chest to ease him into lying down.

Cayde went without resistance or retort. There was a faint, unfocused haze to the glow of his eyes. He covered Andal's hand with one of his own and held it there, pressed to the low thrum of life. "Missed you," he whispered.

Andal's heart turned so sharply his insides ached. "That's supposed to be my line," he managed, leaning forward to lay his cheek against Cayde's chest.

"Hey, Andal?" Cayde's voice wavered. His other arm settled across Andal's back. "You'd tell me if something was wrong, right?"

Andal hummed an affirmative. It earned him a low chuckle. The fingers tracing lazy circles on his back crept up to tug his hair free, and Andal couldn't help the soft groan when they dragged along his scalp. "I don't mean with just this," Cayde said. "I mean in general."

"Not when you're in the field. I don't want you distracted."

"You know I think about you anyway." There was a spark of mischief in Cayde's tone. "And anyway, I'm not in the field right now."

Andal rolled his eyes and pushed himself to his feet with a huff, heedless of Cayde’s pitiful whine at the loss of contact. "I need to clean up. Then we can go get dinner."

Andal made it halfway to the bedroom before he heard footsteps, and arms wrapped around his waist from behind. "Lemme help," Cayde murmured, a rush of warmth against the back of his neck.

"I actually want to get clean sometime today, Cayde."

"Your hair's a mess."

"I was out in the wind." Andal twisted in his arms so he could look him in the eyes, and his next protest died on his lips. It wasn't often Cayde looked at him with so much raw vulnerability; he cloaked his fear and his grief in dazzling sunlight, so the rest of the world would focus on the flash of his smile and not the cracks in his heart. Andal had learned to see through it a long time ago. But it was different when Cayde stripped it away himself.

"I missed you," Cayde said, and his voice cracked. "I still miss you. And I can't figure out how to get to where you are so I can stop."

Andal brushed his fingers along the sharp line of his jaw. Cayde’s next inhale stuttered, more a sob than a sigh of contentment, and Andal's world collapsed and coalesced until all he could see was Cayde, burning with his own familiar agony and breaking himself apart to cross the horizon between them.

Andal surged forward and wrapped his arms around him and kissed him until the fire in his lungs was because he couldn't breathe, and not because the peace he wanted was out of his reach. Cayde was warm and solid and pressed against him, and that low thrum was strong and sure beneath his fingertips, and Cayde's breath was a soft whisper against his neck.

"I'm here," Cayde said. The words were ragged, strangled by his desperation. "I've got you."

Andal tried to ease a step back, to see his face, and to kiss him again, but Cayde resisted any movement that could put any amount of space between them - like if he let go now, Andal would once more be beyond him. It made Andal's chest ache. He didn't want to let go. He wanted to be here, where there was no death, or loss, or crushing weight. He wanted to lose himself in the steady hum from the heart of Cayde's frame. He wanted to open the windows and gaze at stars while he was wrapped up in Cayde's arms. It felt like peace. Like home. A single word burned in his throat, a plea he could never voice - Stay.

"You wanna tell me what's going on?" Cayde asked, a long time later, and still holding him close.

Andal shook his head.

"Okay," Cayde said. "You wanna go clean up?"

Andal heaved a deep sigh. Cayde laughed softly. "C'mon, it'll help."

"I'm fine here," Andal grumbled, and grasped futilely at Cayde's shoulders when he gently pulled away.

"C'mon," Cayde said again, tangling their fingers together and tugging him toward the bedroom. "I gotcha."

Cayde helped him wash up and slip into a comfortable hooded sweatshirt and loose pants, then set him down on the couch and went to work on his hair. It was still wet from the shower, and gradually less disastrous the longer Cayde spent painstakingly massaging various products into it. The careful rhythm soothed Andal into a warm haze. His head dropped back against Cayde's collar, and he only noticed he'd almost drifted off because those lovely fingers in his hair stopped moving.

"You know you have to sit up more if you want me to finish this."

"Mm."

"Andal." There was fond exasperation there. Cayde tapped his cheek. The quiet ping of a message notification interrupted whatever he was going to say next. He gathered Andal to his chest and planted a quick kiss on his hair, then started to extricate himself from the embrace.

Andal's heart lurched. He closed a tight grip around Cayde's wrist reflexively. "You're leaving?"

Cayde paused his efforts to untangle himself from Andal and also escape the sinking cushions of the couch. He didn't tug at the wrist Andal had in a vice grip. "Just for a minute," Cayde answered slowly. "I asked Tevis to pick us up some food. He's almost here."

Andal made himself let go. "Tevis hates the Tower. He won't come here unless he absolutely has to. Trust me, I've tried."

"Well, he does absolutely have to. He owes me a favor."

"Do I want to know how that happened?"

"Nope," Cayde said, with a little too much enthusiasm, as he finally managed to get back to his feet. He reached down to tilt Andal's chin up with a single digit. "Be right back. Don't go anywhere, beautiful."

Andal swatted at his hand. "Quit flirting and go let Tevis in," he said, despite the warmth blooming under his ribs. "I don't want him to break my door down."

It wasn't Tevis that showed up: it was an uncharacteristically surly Shiro. He handed the bags to Cayde with all the airs of a man who'd just spent too long fighting a losing battle. "I owed him a favor," he muttered. "And he decided that his debt to you was paid when he picked the food up and brought it to me. So I could take it to you."

"I told you he was a cheat," Cayde said, unhelpfully.

"Thanks, Shiro," Andal called, and Shiro studied him intently for a second. Whatever he found swept some of the aggravation away from his stance; he tossed off a cheerful wave as he ducked out.

Cayde was already unpacking the ramen onto the coffee table. Behind him, Sundance closed and locked the door with a sigh. Andal cast her a thankful look as he settled on the floor and propped his back against the couch.

Cayde dropped down next to him. "I was thinking," he said, looping an arm around Andal, "that I'd stick around the City for a couple weeks. Maybe drag you out of the Tower sometimes. Shiro said there're a few local festivals coming up, and-"

He didn't finish, because Andal stole the rest of his words with a searing kiss.

"Didn't know you liked festivals that much." Cayde sounded breathless. His gaze was completely unfocused. "Damn."

Andal tapped his cheek. "You okay in there?"

"I think I shorted something, but yeah." Cayde shook his head, like that would clear the fog. "Do that again."

Andal almost considered it. Almost. But the weariness in his bones felt like a lead weight, and the ramen was steaming, and Cayde was half curled around him. "Later," he said instead, and felt Cayde's chest hum with a soft laugh.

"You got it."

—-

The damn Tower was only ever loud on the rare occasion he wanted it to stay quiet.

Andal heard the hurricane coming before it hit and immediately categorized it as a five, because while there were two pairs of hurried footsteps approaching his office door at battering speed, the only raised voice he could make out was coming from the Speaker, and that always meant serious trouble. Could be an issue with the Consensus. Could be an emergency meeting to address some kind of apocalyptic threat.

Or it could be Tevis Larsen, stalking through the door with the Speaker two steps behind him. He didn't wait for the leader of the entire City's governing body to come through after him; he slammed a fist back into the controls to close and lock it in his face.

Andal shot to his feet. "Tevis, what the hell?"

"He asked me to explain calling out to the Void to him." Tevis looked utterly unperturbed. "I said no. He kept asking. I wasn't gonna say no twenty times."

Andal dragged a hand down his face. Tevis, who hated the Tower, was in the Tower, in Andal's office, with a slighted Speaker standing just outside the door, presumably after having followed Tevis across the entire structure asking about a power that was anything but well understood, which had to do with a branch of the Light that certain vocal fringe groups still considered controversially aligned with the Darkness, despite every writing Ikora Rey had ever produced with evidence to the contrary. Great. He could already see the fifteen new committees this was going to spawn.

"Tevis," Andal said, voice tight, "the Speaker is in charge of the entire Consensus. He runs the City."

"I don't answer to the damned Consensus. And if you weren't on the Vanguard, I wouldn't answer to them either."

Andal closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose. "Fine, then look at it this way: I work with these people. Could you try not to make me look bad?"

"Cayde's been in here all the damn time lately. I don't think their opinions can get any lower."

Andal bit back a retort and reached for the door controls so he could start to smooth the mess out, but Zavala's voice on the other side stopped him. Ah. He was already on it. Andal would have to thank him later. "Okay," he said, turning back to Tevis. "What the hell is going on?"

Tevis's face didn't even twitch. "I can't just visit a friend?"

"Not when you've spent the last week avoiding me."

Tevis shrugged. "Shiro's been on my ass about coming to see you. I got sick of it."

"Shiro's been on your ass about that for a lot longer than the week you've been back in the City. Nice try, though."

A flicker of unease flashed in Tevis's eyes. He tugged at his hood, but didn't lower it, shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and glanced at the door. "Can we talk somewhere else?"

Andal waited until there were no more voices behind his door, then led Tevis outside, away from the Vanguard and the Consensus and the low buzz of their chaos. He only stopped once they made it to his sanctuary at the highest point of the Tower.

"You allowed to be up here? Thought your Vanguard might be kinda uptight about it." Tevis sat down gingerly, like he didn't trust the edge not to crumble by virtue of it being a Vanguard structure, and dangled his legs over the abyss below.

"Don't know. Never asked." Andal eased down too, and leaned back on his hands. In the distance, the sun was just starting to sink toward the horizon. A warm gust of wind caught Tevis's hood and blew it back, and Andal jolted. Tevis's long, dark hair was pulled up and braided into an elaborate coil at the back of his head. It wasn't something he had the inclination to do himself; mostly he just tied it however was quickest.

"Did you finally let Cayde do your hair?" Andal blurted.

He knew the answer before Tevis gave it by the exasperated eyeroll. "One time and one time only," Tevis muttered, but a faint smile still curved the corner of his mouth when he ran a hand over the coil of hair. "He said he wanted to practice it. Looked so happy about it I didn't have the heart to tell him off."

"Looks good on you," Andal said brightly, and earned an elbow to the side of the head. "Ow."

"You get shot and you don't make a damn sound. How the hell is that 'ow'?"

"Most of the time getting shot kills me."

Tevis gave a deep sigh. "Not what I meant." 

"Pretty sure there was something else you came here to talk about anyway." Andal gave him a sidelong glance, and Tevis's shoulders tensed. "Did something happen?"

"No," Tevis ground out. His face went through an impressive array of volatile emotions before settling on blatant discomfort. He opened his mouth to say something else and all that came out was a single cracked syllable.

Andal shifted closer, so their shoulders were pressed together. He didn't say anything and, for a long time, neither did Tevis. He just sat there glaring into the distance with his hands clenched into fists in his lap.

"You're okay here?" Tevis managed at last.

"I'm not sure what that means, Tev."

Tevis scowled. "Being in the Tower all the time isn't killing you?"

Andal tilted his head at him. Tevis avoided his gaze. "It's where I belong now."

Tevis scoffed at that. A thin tremor ran down his spine. "Fucking Dare," he hissed under his breath.

Andal groaned. "Don't start. I get enough of that from Cayde calling the Tower a cage every other week."

"No, I don't mean - " Tevis stopped short. His fists were clenched so tightly his forearms were trembling. He took a ragged breath. "When you left to be Vanguard, I told myself it wasn't that different. You were always the mastermind and the marksman. Who the hell cared if you were on overwatch from the Tower now? You were looking out for us, same as always. But it wasn't the same."

Tevis took a steadying breath, but it didn't stop his arms from shaking. "Wasn't the same," he repeated, like he was forcing the words out. "Didn't know how to deal with it, so I left. Spent a lot of time on my own before I met Cayde and he dragged me into his crazy bullshit. Never thought I'd like being part of a crew. Never thought I'd miss it this much, either."

Andal's chest ached. He nudged Tevis with an elbow. "You know you can still come see me," he said. It came out flat, as if it couldn't mean anything when it was weighed against the gravity of everything else.

Tevis gave him a tired stare, then turned back to the horizon. "It's like there's a barrier," he said, so softly Andal almost missed it. "Between here and out there. Shiro goes back and forth across it like it's nothing. Cayde's a damn disaster about it, but he won't admit it. And you have to stay in the Tower even if half of you's on the other side of that horizon."

"What about you?"

"It's easier to just stay out there." 

Tevis fell silent. Andal let the quiet be until some of the tension in Tevis's shoulders had eased. "Hey, Tev?"

"Hm."

"You know avoiding me because you miss me doesn't make a lot of sense."

"That's what Shiro said."

"Shiro's usually right when it comes to you."

"The hell he is."

"Cayde agrees with me."

"Of course he does. Cayde'll do anything to be a pain in my ass." Beneath the dry delivery, there was a note of undeniable fondness.

Andal huffed a laugh. "Can't really argue with that."

Tevis went quiet again. At first, it looked like he was winding up to bolt. Andal could count on one hand the number of times Tevis Larsen had had an honest conversation about his feelings and not imploded afterwards, and all of them had happened at death's door. But while he had half curled in on himself like he was protecting a wound, Tevis didn't get up, or make a move to throw himself off the Tower to escape. He stayed, and he watched the sun sink into a sea of fire at Andal's side.

"I'll try to be here more," Tevis offered gruffly, once the burning sunset had faded to a cool twilight. "On one condition."

"Anything."

"You check in too."

Andal blinked at him. "Huh?"

"You make a hell of a Vanguard, Andal, but I know it's killing part of you to be up in the Tower. Stop acting like it isn't. You can't talk to Cayde about it because he gets all guilty. Fine. Talk to me or Shiro then."

Tevis offering to talk about emotions on a regular basis: that was a new one. It stunned Andal to brief silence. "Okay," he said, a long moment later, and almost jumped when Tevis dragged him into a rough hug.

"I'll hold you to it," Tevis said, and even though Andal couldn't see his face, he heard the smile in his voice.

Andal tilted his head back to look up at the stars. They cast a faint glow high above the hum of the City, just enough to see the faint outline of the horizon beyond.

Suddenly, it didn't feel so far away.

—-

#destiny #destiny 2 #andal brask #cayde 6 #candal #shiro 4 #tevis larsen #zavala #ikora rey #lord shaxx #my writing

[thefrontofmymind]

Proof Positive 3

a/n: wtf??? i'm updating something 2 days in a row?? this is so unlike me

series masterlist

The morning after, you got out of bed around the time you always did and you got ready for work. With a gentle whisper to a half-awake Ross that you were leaving, you were out the door. 

You tried not to think about it, you hid it in a cupboard in your mind but that didn’t mean it was banging on the locked door. It must’ve been expectant mothers day on the tube because you counted no less than five pregnant women sitting in your carriage. Well, six, actually.

You kept laser focus on your work all day, even through the nausea and exhaustion. It wasn’t until you looked at your schedule did you realise that the tour that you’d been painstakingly organising every little detail of would begin in a mere two weeks. Ross would be leaving in two weeks. Twelve days to be exact. It gave you a jolt; you needed to act, and quickly. You booked an appointment with your GP for the day after tomorrow. You googled what to do, what to say to her, what she’ll say to you. You wanted as much control as you could get.

She would probably ask for either a blood test or a urine sample and she would test you herself. And then she would explain all the options you had. You knew it was early days, it was still an embryo, it didn’t even have a heart, it’d barely grown a brain. It had no thoughts and no pain receptors, it made you feel a little better. It wasn’t a baby yet.

You got a text from Ross at around 4 PM, ‘had to go back to mine to get some clothes, youre free to come over?’. You typed out a quick reply, ‘sounds good. see you soon xx’.

You placed your phone onto your desk and finished writing an email to some venue manager who had questions about the band’s rider. Another ping erupted from your phone, you took a quick glance at the new message from Ross; ‘how are you feeling?’, you didn’t know how you felt, so you didn’t answer.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

As you entered Ross’ flat, using the key he gave you a year ago when he moved in, you heard…talking. More than one person. In the living room was Ross, along with Adam and Carly. Like a switch that flipped, you were bright and happy–you couldn’t let them know what was happening.

A chorus of surprised greetings, questions on why you’ve shown up at Ross’ flat.

“She just can’t resist my cooking…” Ross joked. You didn’t fail to notice the inflection he had, you just prayed that Carly and Adam missed it.

There was some chatter between the boys–something technical with a song they were in the process of recording–and between you and Carly. You were telling her all about the tour, you could pretty much whip up any detail for the next ten months from the top of your head. And she had many questions about where her fiance was going, and when. You got to thinking…There was very well the possibility that things regarding the tour would have to change. In about eight months or so yours and Ross’ lives could change drastically. 

Ross slowly made his way to the kitchen, prepping ingredients for a stir fry. The couple got the hint, making a polite exit and telling you both to enjoy yourselves–whatever that meant.

You silently watched Ross cooking, sipping on the glass of squash you made yourself. He kept stealing glances at you, you pretended to be oblivious.

It felt like your bubble burst. The bliss you felt, this honeymoon stage, it was all over. Everything had been so natural before–the kisses, the casual touches, the pillowtalk–but now it was all just so forced. 

You picked at the food on your plate, you didn’t want to tell him the smell of it made you nauseous. You told him about your day at work, how the final plans for the tour were going.

“So we’re just not talking about it?” He asked after yet another story from you about a rude venue manager or a misunderstanding with your travel agent over the band and crew’s visas.

“I made a doctor’s appointment for Friday…she’ll tell me if it’s…real,” you answered.

“You wanna go alone?”

“You wanna come with me?” It was a genuine question.

“I told you I’m here for you,” he said. “However you want me, I’ll be there.”

You were looking right into his eyes, and he was looking in yours. At the unwavering eye contact you were comforted, you knew there was a shred of falsehood in his words.

“It’s at three in the afternoon…” You told him. “You could meet me there?”

“I’ll pick you up from the office.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The waiting room smelled like bleach. Like the linoleum floors had been scrubbed recently. The loudest sound was emitting from the small TV anchored to the wall in front of you and Ross–some daytime soap opera with characters you couldn’t understand the relations of, no matter how hard you tried.

Sitting across from you was a young guy, probably around 25 or so, cradling a little girl who was drifting in and out of sleep. She was tiny, a toddler still with the chunky limbs of a baby, and a mess atop her head of golden ringlets that probably hadn’t been brushed that day.

As the doctor called your name, you immediately jumped up. You didn’t see the large form next to you rise with you.

“Do you want me…” Ross trailed off from his seat, gesturing towards the corridor you were about to walk down.

“Please.”

Once you and Ross sat down in her office and got comfortable, she began to speak in a light and friendly tone. “So what brings you in?”

“Well…” you started. “I…my period was late so I took one of those early detection tests and it was positive.”

“A pregnancy test?”

You nodded.

“Okay.” She began to type out some notes on her computer. “Is your cycle regular?”

“To a tee, I’ve never been even a day late before.”

“So how many days?”

“Four.”

“And how long has it been since your last period?”

You thought for a second. “About a month?”

“Right.” She finished typing and turned back towards you. “I’ll get you to do a test here if that’s alright. I’m guessing this is the…father?”

“Yes, right, this is Ross,” you said. They exchanged a polite greeting.

The doctor handed you a small plastic jar. “Bathroom is just down to the left, you can’t miss it.”

About 10 minutes later the results were ready. Instinctively you grabbed Ross’ hand as your doctor looked at the much more clinical looking test. 

“Two lines…which means it’s positive,” she said. Your brain began to tick into overtime, it was like time slowed almost to a stop.

In that moment, knowing it was real, you felt a sense of comfort. You didn’t know how, but somehow you got the sense that you could do it, and it would all be alright, you could make it work. A warmth spread through your abdomen–though that was just your mind. You became aware of the hand you were holding in a vice-like grip. Ross was with you, you wouldn’t be alone, you could very well have a family with the man next to you. You could be there for each other through all this, you were a team.

“Oh my god…” was all you could say, a soft smile spreading across your face. You looked at Ross, mirroring your smile.

“I should talk to you about options,” your doctor said after a minute of letting you bask in the happiness.

“I want to keep it,” you said instantly.

You smiled at Ross again, he raised his eyebrows–silently asking “really?”–you nodded.

“Well then,” she laughed. “I’ll give you the name of a good OB, he’s the one who delivered my two girls…” She was messily writing on a notepad. “And this is a good brand of prenatal vitamins.” She opened a drawer of her desk and retrieved a pamphlet. “And here’s just some guidelines for the early stages, what not to eat, symptoms you might have, all that.”

“Thanks,” you said after she handed you the bundle of information.

“I’d suggest booking within the next week, you might just be far enough along for a proper ultrasound.”

You didn’t say another word until you were out of the building and walking to the closest tube station, to the line that would take you right to Ross’. “A baby…”

“I know,” he chuckled.

“Are you okay with this all? Sorry…I didn’t know what my answer would be in there…”

“Listen to me.” He stopped walking, taking your hand in both of his and fiddling with your fingers. “There is no one else I would rather do this with.”

“Out of everyone in the entire world?” You laughed.

“No one else.”

“Not even Waugh?”

“Don’t tell him that I pick you…” He said in a hushed tone, to which you couldn’t help burst out laughing.

You couldn’t describe the joy you were feeling. The bubble of bliss was back for you both.

That night you slept easy, in the arms of the father of your baby, the three of you together–at least for now.

#ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald imagine #ross macdonald fic

[ladyveronikawrites]

LOST IN THE CONCRETE JUNGLE (Bad Omens x Star Wars) Chapter Eight Pairing: Bad omens x female reader Summary: You are the perfect senator's daughter- next in line to become his aide to learn everything about the Galactic Senate. On your 21st birthday, your perfect life changes forever when a mysterious masked man saves your life. CW; none A/N: POV switching from second to first occurs often in the story. Shout out to my amazing beta team @mysticdoodlez, @roley-poley-foley, and @nerdraging4point0 your insight and cheerleading has been invaluable. Word Count: 1.5k Crossposted: Wattpad & A03

MASTERLIST

Cast list

May the Force be with you✨

Nerves bubble in your stomach as you knock on the door. Fear swells in your mind as you nervously pick at your fingernails. You raise your hand to knock again when the door springs open.

“You’re alive!” Skylar exclaims, pulling you into an embrace. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as she tightens her grip around you.

“Yeah, I am,” you say softly. Skylar squeezes you again. “I missed you so much,” she says pulling away to wipe away a fallen tear from your eye. “I missed you too.” 

“You must be starving,” Skylar says softly. Right on cue your stomach growls. 

Skylar leads you to the small table in the corner of the open floor plan. You always admired Skylar’s apartment. Despite her dark fashion choices, her home was decorated with splashes of color from artifacts and paintings her parents brought home from different planets.

 Skylar fills you in about the guy she is seeing and how her parents are doing off planet. She picks up like you just saw her yesterday. You swallow down the fear threatening to rise from your stomach as the realization hits you that you don’t know how long you’ve been gone. Nodding you sink back into the familiar cadence of letting your friend chit-chat away, forcing non-verbal cues to encourage her to continue. 

You keep up your charade in hopes she doesn’t ask how you are or where you’ve been. After a few minutes, she finally looks down at your plate and notices that you’ve barely touched your food. Her jaw clenches slightly as if she wants to ask you what’s wrong. If this was an ordinary day her question would be natural; expected even. But this moment is far from ordinary. 

Skylar’s lips curl at the corners as she says, “Why don’t you look through my closet for something to wear while I clean up”. Your heart leaps out of your chest. You can't wait to wear clothes that actually fit you. You can’t wait to feel normal again.

Skylar’s bedroom has an elegance to it that makes your stomach ping with jealousy. Your room is gray and simple. 

Parallel to the door is a large hexagon window showcasing the stunning cityscape. The sun cast a warm glow on the skyscrapers beyond. Skylar’s bed is pushed against a matte black wall and across from it is a dark wooden wardrobe. 

Before pulling the doors open you spy silver-painted stars and moons scattering along the edge. Your heart tightens and a grin springs onto your face as the image of your friend painting her wardrobe flashes across your mind. You can see it now, her thin brows scrunched in concentration.

You pull open the doors to find luscious fabrics all in one shade: black. Your stomach tightens and your hand hesitates. All you’ve ever known are your family colors. Your outfits have always been chosen for you ever since you were born. Not just clothes, but the food you ate, the friends you hung out with, your career- everything predetermined by your father for the perfect image. To be the perfect Senator’s daughter.

At this moment, you get to make the choice. Before you change your mind, you close your eyes and grab at random. You gasp as you look at the black chiffon dress in your hands. You pull the dress in front of you and the fabric falls gracefully to the floor. Your stomach tightens as you glance at the plunging neckline and clingy fabric. If your father ever saw you wearing this he would dump you onto the streets. He has already cast you out. 

What more could you lose?

As you descend the stairs, you find Skylar lounging on the crescent-shaped white leather couch watching the holovision. Emperor Palpatine shows up on the screen as you come to Sky’s side. You stare at the holo a second longer trying to make out the words he is saying but it goes dark.

“Damn, you look hot in black!” Skylar takes in your new look. “We have to go out!” Skylar rises from the couch and grabs her purse from the coffee table. Suddenly feeling insecure you clutch your arms around your chest. 

“I-I’m not sure that is a good idea.” You look at the ground not able to meet your friend’s gaze. You don’t want to disappoint her as you are still visibly shaken up from the past few days. 

“Please,” Skylar pleads as she entangles her fingers into yours. “I promise to never leave your side.” She squeezes your hand and you finally look at her. Excitement and relief spark through her electric blue eyes. You could you a distraction…a distraction. 

Zebastian. 

“Hello?” Sky’s voice pierces your daydream. “So are we going?”

With a huff and a small smile, you agree. Skylar hooks her arm around yours and leads you to the door. 

Synthesized jazz music swarms your ears as you enter the cantina. The room is dark and hazy with patrons scattered about at various tables, eating and playing games like Sabaac. A band of silver metallic droids plays a variety of instruments in the corner.

Skylar scores two metal stools as the circular bar at the center of the establishment. You fidget with your long dress as you plop down on the stool. You fuss with your hair as Skylar orders two Wicked Womprat cocktails from the droid barkeep. Resting your arm against the illuminated bar top, you look down at your wrist comm and your heart tightens. 

“Where did that come from?” Sky asks as she hands you your drink. 

“Oh um-” your eyes shoot up to meet hers. Your cheeks redden as you stumble over the words swirling in your head. “Zebastian gave it to me.” Your hands clamp over your mouth as your eyes go wide. Zebastian’s warning rings in your ears. “I meant, Revan… he gave it to me.” Skylar shoots you a questioning look. You take a sip of your drink to hide the guilt you feel but it doesn’t help you feel any better. “I need to use the refresher,” you rush out as you slide off your chair. Suddenly, a prickling sensation spreads from the base of your neck. Like someone is watching you, but Sky’s voice forces you back to reality. 

“I’m coming with you,” Sky announces as she sets her drink down. 

“You don’t have to,” you counter. “Seriously, I’ll be fine.” You flash her a smile you hope to the stars above she believes. She doesn’t. She grabs your wrist and pulls you close. 

“I made you a promise and I intend to keep it,” her tone sharp like glass. Sky follows you into the refresher and locks the door when she notices you two are alone. 

“What aren’t you telling me?” Skylar squares her shoulders and folds her arms across her chest. Your mouth pops open and close like a fish. “We aren’t leaving until you tell me everything.”

You close your eyes and rub your temples to soothe the weight of her words. Your chest rises as you take in a breath to center your mind. On the exhale, you tell your best friend everything. Skylar holds you tight as you sob against her shoulder. 

A loud commotion on the other side of the door pulls you from your overwhelmed state. Skylar looks at you and then back at the door as muffled screams filter in through the door. You clutch onto her hand while she unlocks the door. Skylar leads you around the corner and you both stand frozen as the scene before you unfolds. 

A large and vicious black-furred Wookiee holds a frightened Trandoshan patron by the neck. The Trandoshan squirms trying to break free as a female Twi’lek approaches the Wookiee. Her ethereal presence is jarring against the tough aliens. Her long white dress skims the floor and the sequins of the bodice reflect the neon lights. Her voice is soft yet stern as she de-escalates the situation. It is her establishment after all. 

“Come on,” Skylar whispers. “Now is our chance.” Together, you creep along the low-lit walls toward the front door as everyone else watches, frozen in fear. A guttural scream breaks your concentration as your eyes follow its origin. The Wookiee rips off the Trandoshan’s arm and the room erupts in a panic. Bodies rush in every direction attempting to get free. Strong hands push you to the ground. Landing on your hands and knees you struggle to get upright. Another blow to your side causes you to fall forward. Searing pain shoots through your hand as someone steps on you.

“Sky!’ you scream in agony. 

The corner of your vision darkens as adrenaline kicks in. Your chest heaves as you lift yourself up from the ground clutching your hand. Dizzy, you stumble forward leaning onto the bar for support. Something hard hits the back of your neck and you let out a nightmarish scream as your body goes limp and your vision goes black. 

tysm for reading❤️🗡️ dividers saradika

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#bad omens fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #bad omens au #bad omens galactic au #bad omens mafia au #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #Bad Omens x Star Wars #bad omens x female reader #noah sebastian x female reader #fic: lost in the concrete jungle #ladyveronikawrites #thescarletdaggerforever

[blacksupremacy86]

A Private Show Part 2

Catching Tom Hardy unawares at a extreme yet familiar old hotel chain I frequent on the beach so I followed him back into the hotel where he hops on the elevator and I Hypno the concierge to take me to hotel room.

I wait for him to exit his room indeed he did in a hurry as I call out his name he signs and then spun to see me with a small flash light in hand and before a single sentence could be utter.

Ping a loud sound as the flash light sent a huge pulse emitting from the clear glass as it zooms in to his eyes as he pulsed in the face as he knocked down in a instant he hit the floor.

He comes to holding his head as the pound sensation rattles his head a bit shaking his head because he cannot remember what else happened and soon enough I approach him.

He is clearly going to work out at the gym of the hotel in a tight armor for bound shirt and some swat pants looking so fine but now I am kneeling next to him as he stares up into my eyes.

He stares back completely wiped of any of his security he has simply he is a very hot but insecure person I could relate to on some level because he belongs to me now.

I smirk reaching under his arm swiftly lifting him up to his full height he feels his skin so hot flesh and help him back to his room and fumble with his electronic keys swiping it on the panel.

The door unlocks cupping the handle of the door pushing it open as I struggle to heap his heavy load of a muscular body guiding him to his bed I plop him down as he lays on his back.

I rub my hands together warming myself up then place my hands on his chest feeling him up and all over then throughout his tone body till I reach his sweat pants and begin to strip him naked.

The sound a reverberating ping blares in his head waking him up, poor Tom Hardy is at a loss. He starts to scratch his beard a bit till he sits up on his bed then struggles to get to his feet.

He sighs heavily his voice echoing from wall to wall leaving me unearthed as my cock is springing to life. He assumes he must have fallen a sleep since he had a good work out but his body sore.

He barely makes it to the bathroom holding on to the wall he slips in facing the mirror of the room and scratches his hair cannot believe he looks so ruff and he pulls out a razor and shaves.

“Did I go to the gym or what?”

“I am so fucking sore”

“Fuck this! I need to go for a night out”

“Where is my suit?”

“Yes!”

“Maybe I can avoid the papparazzi”

“Anyway! I am on my way “

“Why do I feel like I know this number “

“Meet me at eight!”

“Hey man! Did you change your number!”

“No Man! You are drunk or high?”

“I slept after the gym…I guess “

“Missing hours?”

“Mwahahahahaha “

“Not funny!”

“Well it is…because I already know what you did”

“Wait what! How do you ….”

“PING!l”

“What the fuck?”

“How do you feel now?”

“Yes Master!”

“Where is your car?”

“Over there”

“Well! Let’s go”

“Yes! Sorry Master”

“Grabbing my bloody keys “

“Something is off “

“Am I forgetting something?”

“Oh your family and life “

“Yyyyeeessss….you are so smart “

“I dealt with that “

“What does that mean “

“I got rid of them”

“Bastard!”

“Dumb dumb”

“All you have is me”

“Oh right!”

stops cold in his tracks starting at me his mind tries to figure out everything I just say to him because I am in total control of him at this money simply stated he cannot even bother to fight me.

The ping happens again forcing his eye to fall back into the socket then opens up but he rolls around coming to he stares back at me with a huge smile at me his arms are now wide open.

He grabs me tightly wounding over me he is lifting me up to in the air swinging me in the air he plants a kiss on me as we rush out of the area.

We hop in the expensive car as he places the keys turning it on as the engine revs up and he is speeding up down the blocks we are now in a private part of a another beach we order a luxury dinner.

The deliver comes as we park he says up

all for us falling deeply in love with me his life all except his career fades in to the clouds of his a has because he no longer exist in that world.

He leans in to kiss me slowly my hand grip his neck pulling him closer to me as we are beginning to make out simply as our hands slowly shove past his upper body to his wide ass.

“Oh My God!”

“What Tom?l

“I love you “

“You think I don’t know that “

“I mean! That’s obviously true”

“Because I willed it”

“You have me now “

“Yes…but”

“Everyone and everything else is gone”

“I wiped them clean”

“They are my”

“Your what…you see you don’t know or care”

“That’s impossible “

“Name them”

“How do they relate?”

“I…I…I”

“You what?”

“Stop being a idiot”

“Don’t you dare call “

“I call you as I like “

“Nnnnffff”

“Yes Master”

“Better watch yourself”

“You know me”

“I explained it all”

“I own you “

“You love me”

“There is no discussion”

“You faith is sealed”

“Let’s kiss and make it official “

The end

#tom hardy #a private show #hypnosis #mind control #reprogramming #hypno slave #mind conditioning

[kingofsummer93]

Pairing: Feysand Word Count: 5k CW: Tamlin Summary: Newly single, Feyre decides to crash at Mor's apartment while she's away on a European vacation. However, she quickly realizes that the next few weeks might not pan out exactly as she wants for two reasons: 1) Rhysand is there, and 2) the AC breaks. Will they be able to come out of it without falling in love killing each other? Or will they succumb to the heat?

This is part 3 of a collaborative fic written for the writing circle organized by @azrielshadowssing! Check out the masterlist to read the other fics!

Read it on Ao3

Part 1 written by @damedechance

Part 2 written by @hlizr50

Feyre hated the way her body reacted to his presence- the anxiety that rattled her nerves, the defensiveness in her stance, the excuses and apologies instinctively forming themselves on the tip of her tongue. Bracing herself for accusations and outright aggression. Or else, for subtle manipulation, ready to trip her up in a snare of lies and empty promises.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice was flat, devoid of any sort of emotion except for blatant disinterest. As if he were a mere stranger she’d bumped into on the street, and not the ex-fiance whose face she had hurled a ring at a week ago.

She could still feel the weight of that ring on her finger- the physical and symbolic weight of that gaudy monstrosity. Three carats, with a halo of smaller diamond around it, and even more diamond embedded into the band. A dream ring, for some, but the complete opposite of what she would have chosen for herself. Feyre had gaped at the sheer size of it, and then had balked as she tried to imagine the astronomical cost of a ring like that. She had tried not to think of what that money could have bought, other than a piece of jewelry. Actual, tangible things, useful things, like rent and food and security. Things that she had gone so long without.

But those were things that Tamlin had, of course, and therefore didn’t need to worry about. Throwing away an exorbitant amount of money on an engagement ring was not something he had to think twice about.

Feyre clenched her left hand in a fist, trying to dispel the memory of that ring that had started to to feel more like a shackle the longer she wore it. Tamlin caught the movement, his eyes dipping to her left hand. His brows creased in displeasure.

“I was hoping I’d find you here. I’ve been trying to call you, but you’ve been ignoring my messages.” His frown deepened, his tone laced with accusation.

Feyre resisted the urge to roll her eyes or sigh too deeply as she glanced at her phone. She’d been in such a rush that she hadn’t even checked her messages before running out the door. A quick scan of her messages and missed calls showed no less than ten text messages and eight calls from Tamlin, starting late last night. Last night, when she’d been…

Feyre cleared her throat, feeling a flush rise up her neck at the memory of her night with Rhys. She wondered if her expression looked guilty, and then mentally slapped herself. There was nothing for her to feel guilty about. She was free to do what she liked, with whoever she liked. And besides, she told herself, remembering the floral perfume on his shirts, the late nights at the “office”- if anyone should feel guilty, it was definitely not her. And she’d be willing that her ex-fiance didn’t feel a drop of guilt about what he’d done.

She quickly scrolled through his messages, her stomach clenching at the forced casualness she recognized even through text messages, that tone that demanded to know where she was and what she was doing.

I just want to talk.

Don’t you think you owe me that, at least?

Why are you ignoring me? Where have you been staying?

Her phone pinged, startling her so much that she almost dropped it to the pavement. An unknown number appeared on her screen, with three short messages:

Canceled my meetings for the rest of the day.

I simply can’t wait for my personal feast.

Don’t bother getting out of bed, darling.

Her burning flush intensified, sweat beading on her forehead and upper lip. At least she could blame it on the suffocating heat. She shoved the phone back in her pocket, shrugging as nonchalantly as she could, given the image Rhys’ message had conjured to her mind. If only she’d slept for another ten minutes, then she might have ditched work and stayed in bed. Or, as his note had suggested, waited for him on the table, which was the perfect height for him to kneel and…

“Sorry. I’ve been busy.”

Tamlin narrowed his eyes, that cold green gaze flicking back and forth from the phone in her pocket to her face. If they were still together he would have already demanded to see the phone by now, to see what (or, more specifically, who) had caused such a reaction.

“Who was that?” he asked, right on cue.

“That’s none of your business, Tamlin,” she replied, as calmly and evenly as she could.

Sweat was running down her back, she was getting cranky from this encounter, and she needed to get out of this goddamn heat.

“Why are you here?” she asked again, angling her body away from him. I am busy, the posture said. I have nothing to say to you.

Tamlin flinched, but rallied. “Can we go somewhere to talk?”

Feyre loosed a deep sigh. She would rather stand on this sweltering bit of pavement all day than go somewhere with him.

“Please?” he added, before she could say anything. The pleading in his tone gave her pause. That, and the word itself. Tamlin was so used to getting what he wanted out of life that please and thank you were mostly foreign concepts to him.

Tamlin took her surprise for hesitation and pounced for the kill. “I packed more clothes for you. The bag’s in my car.”

Feyre blinked in surprise. “What?”

Tamlin ran a hand through his blonde hair, looking almost embarrassed. “Well, I didn’t know how long you’d be staying here, but I figured, you know, you’d probably need more than a duffel bag’s worth of clothes eventually…”

There was a catch to it, of course, but Feyre softened slightly at the gesture. “Oh. Thanks. I was going to come around to get the rest with Mor, once she’s back from-“

“You’re staying here alone?”

Feyre looked away from that calculating gaze, hating herself for feeling guilty at the lie. “Yes.”

“Can we go up? I just want to talk, just for a few minutes.”

“No!” Feyre blurted. Tamlin’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “No, Tamlin. I don’t want to hear it, ok? Whatever excuses you’re about to spew at me-“

“No excuses! I just want to talk. Five minutes, and then I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Tamlin-”

“Five minutes, Feyre. Don’t you think you owe me that? After throwing your ring in my face and storming out?”

No. No, she didn’t, but Feyre felt a familiar twinge of anxiety at his tone. Carefully controlled, but balanced on a knife’s edge. Ready to tip over into anger at the barest push.

“Fine. Fine.” She threw up her hands, too hot and emotionally drained for a public fight. “Five minutes. But can we at least sit somewhere with AC? I’m about to faint.”

Tamlin’s shoulders sagged with relief. Feyre ignored it, along with the gleam of triumph in his eyes.

---

Rhys felt the condensation on the large iced coffees he was holding drip over his fingers as he stood in the shadows of the coffee shop across the street. His fingers clenched at the scene unfolding in front of his eyes, sending icy liquid spurting from the take-out cups. He had half a mind to march across the street, haul Feyre over his shoulder, and get her as far away from that dickhead as physically possible.

He watched, not quite willing to accept what he was seeing, as they reached a bright blue sports car (of course the asshole would have a car like that), got in, and drove away. Together.

Time seemed to slow down. For a whole minute he couldn’t bring himself to move. If he did then the world would resume its normal activity and he’d be forced to accept that what he had just seen had been real and not just a heat-induced fever dream.

Someone bumped into him on their way out of the store, and time sped up again. “Watch it,” he growled, glaring at the startled customer.

“Sorry!” a teenage girl squeaked, hurrying away from him.

Great. Now he was that asshole who picked fights with strangers on the street.

Rhys stalked to the nearest trash can and dumped out the two coffees unceremoniously. It was on autopilot that he made his feet take him back to Mor’s building, up the stifling stairs, and into her even more stifling apartment.

Moronic. He’d been moronic to think that he was finally getting his shot at the one that got away. For the past three years not a day had gone by where he hadn’t thought of that night on the beach.

Feisty, clever, sharp-tongued Feyre, with those eyes that burned into him as if she couldn’t decide whether to fuck him or punch him. He’d never get over that look.

It had been a huge mistake to pounce on her like that last night. She was fresh out of an engagement (or not, he remembered with a pang) and he’d pounced on her like some sex-starved animal. And beyond that, now that he had reminded himself of the taste of her, the feel of her, the sounds she made- he’d never be able to forget it.

It was punishment, Rhys figured, for letting her slip out of his grasp three years ago. If only fucking Amarantha hadn’t clung to him like some hyena during that entire work function. If only he’d shaken her off, if only he’d gotten Feyre’s number earlier and just fucking called her like a normal person.

And now she’d once again slipped out of reach. If she had ever been within reach, anyway.

She was probably already reuniting with Tamlin, letting him do all the things he had promised to do to her. He spotted the note he’d left her on the counter, the white stationary so innocent compared to the filthy things he’d written. The sight of it suddenly made him see red. He ripped it to shreds and dumped it into the trash without another thought.

It only took another minute for him to pack his clothes and leave the apartment. For a moment he hesitated at the top of the stairs, and then he turned back, fished his key out of his pocket, and left it under the mat.

---

Feyre was boiling. She was steaming, really, and not just from the heat, as she made the trek up the stairs to Mor’s apartment.

Asshole. What an absolute dickhead she’d almost married. Thank god- thank whatever god was up there watching her that she had dodged that bullet. Thank god she had found out about his infidelity when she had, and not after the wedding. She hated to think of what would have happened if she hadn’t. How long would she have suffered his manipulations, before having the courage to leave? If she ever got the courage, that is- if his control and subtle manipulations hadn’t brainwashed her into thinking that kind of relationship was normal.

A shiver ran down her spine, despite the suffocating heat of the stairwell.

The conversation had gone as poorly as she had suspected it would. Bullshit excuses dripping with condescension, essentially blaming her busy schedule for his infidelity. No matter that she always made sure to be home before him. No matter that she had had to explain why she wanted a career in the first place.

“Feyre,” he’d pleaded, as if talking to a small child, “you’ve made your point. We both need to do better. But you can come home now, I won’t hold it against you.”

In the end she had stormed out of the coffee shop and stood by his car until he had been forced to reluctantly hand over a gym bag full of clothes. At least he hadn’t lied about that.

By the time she reached the seventh floor landing she was panting and dripping with sweat. She wondered if Rhys was back yet, and if she’d have time to take a shower and change.

She shivered again, from anticipation this time, as she opened the front door and dumped her bag on the floor. A day in bed (or couch, or table) with Rhys was exactly what she needed to put this morning’s ugly encounter out of her mind. There would be other encounters, of course- she still had to go back and get the rest of her possessions from his apartment. But for today she’d settle for getting the whole ordeal fucked out of her brain.

“Rhys?”

The apartment was silent, and Feyre breathed a quick sigh of relief. From the amount of sweat she could feel dripping down her back, she doubted Rhys would enjoy the feast he’d planned if she didn’t shower first. She chucked off her sticky clothing on her way to the bathroom, almost tripping over her own feet as she struggled to peel off her jean shorts.

After the world’s quickest shower she wrapped a towel around herself and stared at her two duffel bags’ worth of clothing, currently dumped in a heap on Mor’s bed. What, exactly, did one wear for a marathon of sex? Mor would know, of course, but she would also demand to know who she was getting ready for. Feyre chuckled to herself at the thought. That conversation could wait, too.

She pawed through her shorts, tops, and workout clothes, all about as sexy as her sweaty jean shorts she’d dumped in the hall. Why couldn��t she have packed a sundress, or even a cute top?

After a brief hesitation she took out her phone and typed a lightning fast text to her sisters.

HELP

WHAT DOES ONE WEAR TO WAIT FOR A MAN TO COME HOME AND RAVISH THEM?

The answers arrived almost instantly.

Nesta: Who are you fucking?

Elain: Excuse me? Who are you sleeping with? Why haven’t you told us?

Nesta: But to answer your question, one wears nothing. It’s coming off anyway

Elain: Nesta!

Nesta: What? It’s true

Elain: At least a robe. A silky one though, not a terry cloth. OR a cute matching set

Nesta: Yes, that works too, actually. Preferably something strappy. Do you own any corsets?

Elain: Of course she doesn’t own any corsets, she’s an artist. Maybe a teddy, though?

Feyre choked on a laugh. She had no idea what a teddy was but there were certainly none in the jumble of clothing she had brought. Although…

She glanced at Mor’s dresser, where she knew for a fact her friend kept an impressive collection of lingerie. She wouldn’t mind.

Or else she’d just burn the garment and never tell her about it.

THANK YOU

Love you guys

Wish me luck!

Her phone kept buzzing as she rushed to Mor’s dresser. Her hands were shaking with nerves and excitement as she found Mor’s lingerie drawer and quickly looked through the contents.

Something occurred to her as she looked through the mess of lace and silk with growing uncertainty. Was it strange to borrow Mor’s lingerie to sleep with her cousin?

Feyre shut the drawer with a snap. Yes. Definitely strange. Which left her with…

She looked down at the towel wrapped around herself. Elain had said no terry-cloth, but this would have to do. After a quick swipe of gloss and a quick fluff of her hair she padded back towards the main room. She was glancing back and forth between the couch and the dining room table, debating the merits of both, when something caught her attention.

Or, more specifically, the lack of something. Rhys’ note was missing from where she had left it on the counter that morning. Feyre frowned. She clearly remembered leaving the note on the counter, thinking of how insufferable Rhys would be now that they were…doing whatever it was they were doing.

Something like dread was starting to coil itself in the pit of her stomach. Alarm bells were ringing, some bone-deep instinct she couldn’t explain. Something was wrong, but she couldn’t place what it was.

Until she pivoted on her feet and faced the hallway that led back towards the bedrooms. Rhys had left the door to the guest bedroom open all week, even at night, to her endless annoyance. She had no doubt it was his way of reminding her of his presence every time she walked by the spare bedroom. That door was now shut.

Her feet started moving on their own, until she was standing in front of that door. She knew, somehow, what she would find inside. What she wouldn’t find inside. Her heart was in her throat as she wrapped her still-shaking fingers around the handle, and pushed it open.

The bed was stripped, the open closet door showing nothing but boxes of holiday decorations and spare sheets. There were no dark suits hanging in the closet, no books on the nightstand, no dirty gym clothes in the hamper. Rhys had left.

There was a roaring in her ears as she stumbled out the room and slammed the door shut, as horrified as if she’d walked into a crime scene. Her breaths were coming in sharp, quick bursts, and to her horror she felt tears prickling behind her eyes.

He’d played her. Had played her so thoroughly that she had fallen for it, no questions asked. As if once hadn’t been enough. As if she hadn’t been broken enough the first time.

Her gaze snagged on the trash bins. There could still be an explanation, she told herself. Maybe he’d been called away on a business trip. Maybe there were problems with his renovations that he needed to attend to. Except…except that he had her phone number now, and he hadn’t texted her or left another note.

As she looked into the recycling bin all her made up explanations faded out of her mind. She stared at the note that could have changed it all, torn up into dozens of pieces, and her heart broke into just as many fragments.

---

The story ends when it was cold and it was winter and-

Six months.

One hundred eighty-two days.

Four thousand three hundred sixty eight minutes.

Two hundred sixty two thousand eighty seconds.

Feyre stared at the familiar door in front of her, trying not to think of precisely how much time had passed since The Incident. She’d been back to this apartment since then, of course, but now, standing here alone, the memories all came rushing back to her in a torrent.

The shredded note in the trash, her heart shattering into as many pieces. Staring at the text messages from the unknown contact, willing another message to appear, or for her phone to ring. Concocting excuse after excuse, the same way she had with Tamlin.

Thinking that it was her fault, somehow. It was always her fault.

How long had she spent spiraling into dark thoughts, blaming herself, until finally accepting that Rhys wasn’t coming back, that he wasn’t going to text or call her? That it was over, once again, before it could begin? How many times had she typed out a message, her finger hovering over the send button? She didn’t remember, and she didn’t care to.

Did you have to go back to work? had been the first, pathetic one.

Did you get hit by a bus?? had been an attempt at humor.

And it had spiraled, accusations and insults and verbal diarrhea.

YOU ABSOLUTE PRICK, she’d written, about a dozen times. You are the worst person I’ve ever met and I never want to see you again.

But of course she had never pressed send. Because doing so would be acknowledging what he had done, and how thoroughly, how effortlessly he had hurt her. In the end she had eventually deleted that number and the incriminating text message along with it. Some weight had lifted off her shoulders when the message disappeared from her phone, even as she struggled to contain her tears. Tears of anger- at him, but also at herself, for letting him swoop through her defenses and leave her high and dry without so much as a thank you. For the second time.

Feyre squared her shoulders, shaking the memory out of her mind. She wouldn’t let her mind go down that road again. Not now that her life was finally falling into pieces- a feat that she had only herself to thank for, and not a boyfriend or fiance.

After she had finished her first few pieces for Mor’s office there had come a torrent of inquiries, all practically begging her for a chance to commission her for pieces. She had become so busy that she’d even had to turn down work lately. Feyre still couldn’t believe it- that this was her job, that people were actually paying her to do this. Sometimes, when she received a new email from a prospective client, she had to pinch herself to remind herself that this was her life.

Her loft downtown might not be as luxurious as Mor’s, but it was hers. It was her name on the lease, when stuff broke she had to figure it out. There was something liberating about not taking care of others, or being taken care of, but simply taking care of herself.

She would never forget that it had been Mor who had given her that first boost, and who had helped put her back together last summer. It had been Mor who had stood by her side when she had gone to pick her stuff from Tamlin’s, and it had been Mor who had cradled her like an infant every time she had fallen to pieces in the weeks she had crashed at her place.

A familiar pang of guilt twisted itself in her gut at the memory. She had never admitted to her best friend what had happened between her and her cousin. It was easier to blame her broken heart on her ex-fiance than on a one-night stand (two-night stand?) who had never made her any promises anyway.

Which was why, when Mor had asked her to take care of her new kitten while she went on a business trip, she couldn’t very well say no.

Just one week, she told herself. Just one week in a luxurious apartment with a kitten. Get a grip.

With that she stuck her key in the lock and walked into the apartment. The scent of Mor’s favorite air freshener hit her first- curtsy and fresh, almost salty. Like a tall glass of lemonade sipped by the seaside.

And then- a high pitched mewling, followed by a ball of fur careening its way towards her. Feyre let out a choked squeal, dumping her bag to the floor and dropping to her knees as the kitten raced towards her.

“Hi, Lanthys,” she crooned, wincing as the kitten’s sharp, tiny claws dug through her leggings as he pawed at her in excitement. “Calm down, you little monster!”

Feyre cradled the ball of fur, laughing as he licked her nose with his tiny pink tongue. He was purring so loudly and excitedly that she could feel the vibration against her chest. Maybe she should get a kitten. Or a puppy. It sounded like the perfect relationship, actually- they didn’t expect anything other than cuddles, food, and daily walks, and reciprocated with their unending love and loyalty. Much better than a boyfriend, really, they didn’t even talk back.

As if to prove her wrong, Lanthys dug his razor-sharp claws into her jacket, piercing clean through the fabric. “You little devil! Watch it, or I’m going to start calling you Prick…”

A choked sound that definitely did not come from Lanthys made her freeze. Even the kitten seemed to go still in her arms. There was someone else in the apartment. She had probably been too lost in her own thoughts to realize.

As if in slow motion, she lifted her head. She already knew, somehow, who she’d see. Some instinct, perhaps. Some ancient, protective reflex.

She didn’t want to look, but her head moved of its own accord, and there he was, sitting on the couch. As impeccably dressed and handsome as ever, his startling eyes wide as he stared at her. He seemed to also be frozen, halfway between sitting and standing, as if he hadn’t been able to make up his mind.

No. No, no no. She was making this up, this was her mind making up stories, this was-

She didn’t know how much time passed as they stared at each other, frozen in place, Feyre crouching on the ground, Rhys hovering near the couch. Feyre’s hands tightened around the kitten, and Lanthys hissed, digging his claws into her. She let him go with a gasp, and time sped up again. Lanthys wriggled out of her grasp, disappearing into the shadows.

Feyre stood up slowly, her gaze locked on Rhys. She wished her heart wasn’t racing the way it was- she wished the sight of him didn’t awaken something in her the way it did.

Rhys settled back on the couch, seemingly able to master himself faster than she could. “Hello, Feyre darling,” he drawled.

Feyre choked out a laugh. “Darling? You-” She took a breath, unzipping her parka and dumping it to the floor. She was already sweating. “What are you doing here?”

Rhys stood up slowly, as if he was afraid of approaching her. “Mor asked me to look after Lanthys.”

She opened her mouth to retort, and then thought better of it. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Mor would have known. She had done this, she had set this up, not knowing what had happened last summer. Feyre didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“You can stay,” she said flatly. “I’ll go.”

“Wait!” The strain in his voice made her pause. “Please. I’ll go, you stay, I-” He ran a hand through his hair, so unlike the usual calm, cool, and collected Rhys she knew that it caught her off guard.

“I’ll go,” he said, defeatedly. “Stay. Enjoy the apartment.”

He hurried towards the bedrooms, and Feyre stood, mutely, watching him. Emotions and memories were warring in her mind- Rhys picking her up and bringing her to bed, finding his note on the counter. Lies, she reminded herself. All lies, to rope her into sleeping with him and making her think it would lead to something more.

Rhys rushed out of the spare bedroom, gym bag slung over his shoulder, and when his eyes met hers Feyre couldn’t breathe. That blue gaze dipped, and he frowned.

“Where’s your ring?” he asked

Feyre sputtered, almost choking. “My what?”

“Your ring,” he repeated, his brows furrowing irritably.

It took a long time for Feyre’s mind to catch up to the present. Once it did, she looked at her left hand curiously, almost as if she'd find a ring there.

“What ring?” she asked, very slowly. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Rhys’ jaw clenched. “Your ring,” he repeated, lips curving into a sneer. “When’s the wedding?”

For a moment she could only gape at him mutely, her mind still catching up to his words. “What the fuck are you talking about?” she demanded. “I broke up with Tamlin in July. You were here. You were…” Her voice broke. “You were here, you absolute asshole!“

But Rhys was moving, and she barely had time to register what was happening as he dumped his bag on the ground and stalked across the apartment towards her.

“What are you-“

She couldn’t breathe as Rhys rushed towards her, and then his hands were on her, lifting her up and pressing her against the wall.

“Put me down, you fucking-“

“What did you say?”

She smacked him on the chest, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. “Put. Me. Down.”

Rhys chuckled, his voice so low and hoarse that goosebumps erupted on her skin. “I saw you.”

Feyre was having difficulty breathing. He was so close that all she’d have to do is lean forward an inch and then his lips would on hers. “You saw me when?”

He swallowed thickly, his throat bobbing. “Last summer. I saw you get into his car. You went with him. I thought-“

The pieces clicked into place, and Feyre gaped at him. “You thought I was getting back together with Tamlin?” Meanwhile she’d been here, wrapped in a towel, waiting for him to come back. It was so absurd that she closed her eyes and laughed.

When she opened her eyes again Rhys was staring at her, an unreadable expression in his blue eyes. “I waited for you.” It came out as more of an accusation than she had meant it to, and he flinched as if she had hit him. “I came back here and waited for you in a fucking towel.”

Slowly, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing, his lips curved into a grin, amusement shining in his eyes like stars. “My own personal feast,” he whispered.

Feyre smacked him again, even as his words made her shiver. “Why didn’t you call? Do you have any idea how long I waited for you to just call me?”

“I’m sorry.” He dipped his nose towards her neck, his breathing ragged. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Why didn’t you call?” she asked again, her voice small.

Rhys lifted his head, all traces of amusement gone. “Because I thought I’d just lost you for the second time.”

Feyre’s hands clenched around his shirt. “For the second time?”

“I’m not making that mistake again,” he declared, voice ragged. He leaned in closer still, as if to prove his point, resting his forehead against hers. “I’m going to put you down on that table, and then I’m going to have that feast I planned. And then I'm never letting you go again.”

Feyre shivered as his words set her blood on fire. She was sweating- from the heat radiating off him, from the sheer presence of him.

“I need you to say yes, Feyre darling.”

She rolled her eyes. “Why are you so annoying?”

He grinned again, eyes shining with pure, wicked delight. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes, you prick!” She needed him to shut the hell up and kiss her, but from the way he was grinning at her she had a feeling he was planning on taking his sweet time.

“Yes,” he agreed, as if he had read her mind.

His gaze dipped to her mouth and he licked his lips, slowly. Feyre bit back a groan.

Finally, finally, he angled his head, his eyelids drooping closed. And then- a vague, mechanical noise from somewhere in the apartment. Rhys froze, his lips a hair’s breadth away from hers.

“What was that?”

“I think,” he said, very slowly, “that the heating just went out.”

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

#acotarwritingcircle #acotar writing circle #feysand #feysand fic #feysand fanfiction #feyre archeron #rhysand

[coopigeoncoo]

The 3-Cs of 3-A, Chapter 1: The World Turns Upside Down

Chapter Links: Next

Pairing: Eventual Bakugou Katsuki x Fem Reader (it's a very long way off though)

Rating: Explicit. 18+

Tags: Mineta Redemption, Fem Reader, AFAB Reader, Sexual Harassment, Abusive Parenting, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Statutory Rape, Dubious Consent, Underage Sex, Underage Drinking, Domestic Violence, Blood and Injury

Tags are subject to change as story develops.

---

Mineta Minoru is a perverted misogynist whose antics should have had him expelled from UA long ago.

But he wasn’t.

And now it’s your job to fix him.

May God have mercy on your soul.

–-- “Well then, I’ll leave myself in your capable hands,” Mineta purred before popping open the top two buttons on his shirt, sending you a coy look from under his lashes. “Mold me into the perfect hero, Pygmalion!  Make me your Galatea!” he screamed as he ripped open his shirt, buttons flying haphazardly through the air and pinging off the walls and floor.  You throw your arms up to cover your eyes, as though blinded by the pale skin of his belly.  

“Why do you always have to make this weird?” you moan forlornly, already bending down to search along the floor for the missing buttons.  

---

Continue Reading below, or follow the link to Ao3!

Chapter 1: The World Turns Upside Down

In which you make a grave error and start a chain reaction that changes life as you know it.

The only thing you were the best at was trying your best, and honestly, that was pretty darn good.

You had never been given a solo in band class, but the only mistakes you made while playing were small and easily drowned out by the enthusiastic French horn player that sat next to you. Homework assignments were always turned in fully completed, on time, with legible penmanship, but you never managed to break the top 30 academic rankings at your school. Your brief stint as a field hockey player ended with you having never scored a goal despite your team making it to the playoffs.

You rose to all the challenges you were given and performed admirably, but you never truly excelled at anything. You did well and you supposed that was well enough.

It was this long and unwavering history of academic adequacy that led you to make what was ultimately, in retrospect, the worst decision of your young life.

Two options were set before you and neither of them were particularly appealing.

The first was an exhaustively long and detailed research paper on the rise of commercialized hero agencies that spanned from the initial onset of Quirks until today. The second was the same project all of your future classmates had been assigned a week prior: building and maintaining a mock hero agency for the remainder of the school year. Research had never been your strong suit and the idea of working on a singular paper for eight months straight was one of the worst ways you could imagine spending your senior year.

"I think," you murmured quietly, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. " I think I would like to attempt the hero project, Sir."

Since this was the first time you had met the Principal of your new school you were woefully unaware of the horrors that awaited when Nezu's eyes twinkled just so, and your hesitant acceptance set of a shimmer in his beady eyes that would have any experienced member of his staff revising the resignation letters they all had saved on their desktops for easy access.

"Excellent!" He proclaimed cheerily, sharp teeth bared in an unnerving smile as he reached into his desk and withdrew a stack of files. "Most excellent indeed! I'll provide you with all the pertinent records and files for your project. I'm looking forward to seeing what your fresh perspective will bring to the table with no inherited biases!"

"Biases? What biases?" you asked warily.

"Nothing to worry yourself over!,” Nezu assured you as he continued to add to the file stack. “I can tell by your academic record that you're a hard worker no matter how challenging the assignment! Taking on something of this magnitude will really set you apart from your peers,” Nezu said as he added a collection of slim binders on top of the file stack.

"Ah, is that okay though? I'm transferring in during my third year. The rest of my class has way more experience. One of them will probably be a better choice to handle a…more challenging project?" you questioned, becoming increasingly nervous and uncertain as the stack of files continued to grow.

"Nonsense! You're a clever girl, you'll be fine. Besides, all of them already refused to do this. Well, except that one boy. Utada, I believe? He received this assignment originally," Nezu murmured, tapping a clawed finger to his chin gently and his other hand shuffled papers on his desk about into a messy pile before clipping it together and depositing it onto the towering stack of paper between you.

"Oh! Will I be working together with him, then? Like a group project?" you sighed, relieved that you would have a partner to work through this monstrous assignment with.

"Work with who? Utada? Oh, heavens no! He dropped out. Purely coincidental, I'm sure, and not at all related to this project. Now, let's finish up the rest of your transfer paperwork, shall we?"

A weak smile wobbled across your face as you nodded, worried about the workload but knowing you didn't really have much of a choice but to accept.  UA was a high-level, competitive school.  You knew going in that the course work was going to be more challenging than your previous school, but there was no way they would assign anything too difficult, right?

Your newly found confidence immediately faltered as Nezu pushed the towering stack of paper and office supplies across the desk towards you.

“This information should be sufficient to get you started. Make sure to let your homeroom teacher know if there is anything missing and we’ll make arrangements to get it to you. Best of luck!”

Knowing a dismissal when you heard one, you gathered up the stack of files into your arms and carefully maneuvered your way out of the office, unaware of the principal's feral grin that lasted long after you bumped the door closed with your hip.

The project, in theory, was simple: build a hero agency from the ground up. It's the perfect assignment for the Business Course students because it would very likely mirror what awaited them in the professional world once they graduated; working with a hero, constructing an image, supporting the brand, and keeping the budget in line. It was a culmination of two years of accrued knowledge put to the test.

Two years of knowledge that you didn't possess.

Transferring into any program during your final year was already going to be a nightmare, but the specialized and hero-focused curriculum of UA didn't mesh with your previous school's classes as well as you'd hoped. Or at all, really. You didn’t know what got covered in the second year math class 'Deconstructing Destruction: Calculating the Cost of Replacing Public Works' but you had a sneaking suspicion it was vastly different from your Probability and Statistics course.

“Welp,” you sighed as you took in the mountain of paperwork stacked on top of your desk “Time to get to work.”

The syllabus was at the top of the stack and you managed to make it a full thirty pages in before you started hyperventilating. You weren't even halfway through the project outline and every bullet point had at least six additional bullet points underneath it. The breadth and depth of this project was unreal and you had no idea how you were going to manage it.

You set a cellphone timer for ten minutes and managed to work in two full existential crises before the alarm sounded. After that, you took a series of calming breaths and began collating.

Files were broken up by individual assignment, hole punched, and placed neatly into three ring binders with color coded sticky tabs that you could use to quickly access different sections. Due dates were logged in your agenda and calendar reminders were added to your cell phone. It took you hours to organize the entire towering project outline. The satisfaction you felt as you stared at the collection of pristine and orderly binders must be what new parents felt when holding their child for the first time; overwhelming pride and exhaustion in equal measure.

Only one file remained on your desk; the student record for the hero in training that you'd be building an agency for. You sat down in your desk chair, cracked your knuckles, and opened the file to the first page.

"Alright, Mineta Minoru! Let's see what you've got, hero!"

"Oh God," you sobbed into your hands. "He's awful."

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