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levi-ships-eruri · 3 years

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Levi Ackerman NSFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Levi is a cleanliness freak and after a few moments of holding you and making sure that you are okay, he would get up and change the sheets. Means, you have to get up, too. And while you are up, you should go and take a shower. He will join you there and MAYBE this will lead to a second round. However, he will definitely make sure you are alright, clean, and safe. And tbh, there is no better feeling than going back to bed with Levi and cuddle into the fresh sheets.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Levi is quite confident about his body despite his height. On himself, he especially likes his hands and his long, slender, and calloused fingers. They are quite aestethic and he knows how to use them on you, reaching places inside you that your own fingers cannot reach. However, these hands are also shed in blood. Therefore he loves to see that his hands can also be soft and caring on your body, and bring pleasure instead of death.

On you, Levi is definitely an ass and thigh kind of guy. But his favourite body part of you is your face: eyes, lips, nose, jawline... He loves when you glance over to him from the other side of the room, a little smile on your lips. He loves the blush tinting your cheeks. He loves the soft look in your eyes when you tell him that you love him. He loves to see you let loose when you come on him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Levi HATES to make a mess. So when he comes, he comes inside of you. He also thinks this is quite intimate and therefore likes it (plus, secretly thinking he is marking you. Boy sometimes is insecure). When it comes to oral, he wouldn’t force you to swallow. If you wanna spit it out, he would hand you a tissue. Same if something drips out of your mouth because sometimes he comes A LOT.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Levi is pretty vocal about sex and wouldn’t hide something from you, not even the awkward first-time-stories. But there is one thing he is shy talking about... he is not one to share his partner. EXCEPT for the two persons he trusts the most: Hanji and Erwin. Levi caught himself thinking about a threesome with his partner and one of them (or...a foursome...no too much trouble), but he would not dare to bring it up. He would be super embarassed if Erwin turned down the idea and he wouldn’t want Hanji to tell everybody or to brag about it (they would do this, let’s be honest).

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Levi is over 30 years old, so he had gathered some experience. He started in the underworld, not necessarily because of need, but because he thinks it is something he is...supposed to do? Something that was normal for people to do? Later he also had sex when he needed to release some anger, and only later started to really enjoy it and to think about what techniques would please his partner. So, when the two of you start having sex, this guy knows what he does and is willing to learn everything about you and your preferations.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy: He loves to push you down, a hand between your shoulders, your ass up in the air, pounding into you.

Missonary: Levi is a broken man and he loves to hold you close to him and bury his face into the crock of your neck.

Sitting: Both of you sitting, your legs wrapped around him, bodies closely pressed together, hand and lips everywhere they can reach. It is the most intimate position for the really emotional times.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Levi is pretty serious in the bedroom, but he will make cocky remarks and smile a lot (sometimes also cocky, sometimes soft). Sometimes you will break out laughing because he cannot shut his shitmouth and will say something downright ridiculous.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

His hair down there is dark as well and neatly groomed, maybe even completely shaved. He is aware that bodyhair does not have anything to do with bad hygene, but he just feels better shaved or groomed. Levi’s body hair (and facial hair) also takes a lot of time to grow due to his time in the underground, but in this case it is rather beneficial for him.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Levi is super intimate. Not necessarily overly romantic, but intimate. This is something between you and him, something special. So unless it is a quicky during stressful times, he will take his time and make sure that both of you feel good and loved. Often having sex with him is the closest you ever feel to him because Levi can show his affection better by acts than by words. Afterwards you sometimes have the deepest conversations.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Levi’s sex drive is not the highest and he has no problem with not jerking off for a while. When he feels the need to do it, he will do it during his super effective shower sessions because this way it wouldn’t make a mess.

However, when he is in a relationship, his longing gets stronger. If he cannot see you for some time or if the two of you just cannot find any time for the do, he will have a frustrating jack-off session, which only causes his need for you to grow.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Captain Kink: Levi likes to take the dominant part. He likes to hear you call him Heichou in bed, but not too often (he loves his name from your lips even more).

Bondage: Levi loves to tie you up and make you squirm beneath him. Orgasm denial is not a real kink of him, BUT he will do it all the time when you are tied up. When he gives you oral in this state, you can be sure it will take at least AN HOUR before he lets you cum.

Stockings: Since he is a leg guy, he enjoys seeing you wearing stockings. And he wouldn’t admit, but seeing you taking on your boots and gear the next morning is a huge turn on for him. He cannot wait to take them off again in th evening.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His bed or the floor of his room, where he has control over the mess the two of you make.

His desk. It will make much more of a mess and will make a chaos out of his paperwork, but he is a sucker for the view of you sprawled out on his desk.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Levi is actually pretty hard to seduce, which makes flirting with him really hard. He notices the flirting, of course, but is good at ignoring it. As already mentioned, he gets pretty turned on when you get dressed into your boots and gear.

Whenyou spend the day apart from eachother, glancing at each other from a distance, waiting for the night to finally come.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Degrading: Apart from public belief, Levi would NEVER degrade you because he hates being degraded so much. His whole life has been a pain so far, so why should he take this into the bedroom, where he just wants to show his partner his love?

He would also not hurt you. Maybe a few spanks or some very light choking and hair pulling, but he would never ever hurt you in any way. Same reason as above.

Don’t. Call. Him. Daddy. He thinks this is super weird. Just stay with his name or Heichou/Captain.

Anything including piss or feces. Just no.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Levi highly enjoys receiving oral, especially when he is sitting and you on your knees in fron of him. When you blow him, he will finally let loose and you can see his face slightly being tinted red, eyes closed, lips a little apart. His hand will be in your hair all the time and towards the end he cannot hold back and will thrust into your mouth once or twice. His low grunts get a little more high pitched when you run your tongue around his tip.

But Levi is also pretty talented in giving. As mentioned before, he likes to tease you with his mouth, loving the feeling of you squirming beneath him. Be prepared for a lot of edging, cause that little gremlin is a sucker for your desperate moans.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Levi is a little more on the rougher side. His thrusts are deep and strong, his pace rather “average” at the start, but he gets faster in the course of the act. If the two of you have some time, he will vary his rhythm, from slow and sensual to fast and strong, and back again. Quickies will be, as the name suggest, as quick as possible.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Oh, talking about quickies: If you are in a relationship with Levi or anything like this, quickies will happen very often. He is a busy man und you most likely will also be part of the survey corps, so you need to use every little space of time you can get. This often results in steamy sessions in the forest against a tree, or a more private session in his office.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

So, semi public sex, like in the forest, is a thing. But he would always make sure to not get caught, especially not by some cadets.

Apart from that, he is pretty open in bed. Tell him what you would like to try and he will most likely agree, as long as it is nothing from his no go list. If he picks up something new (thanks to Hanji most probably) he will also not shy away from bringing it up and ask you about it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Oh boi, we are talking about Levi. When the two of you have a whole night, you have to be the one to stop him at some point - for your own sake. Levi can go for several rounds, even the whole night and this can easily be too much for someone without special power.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

So let’s imagine a more modern setting, because I think there are no sex toys in our common sense on Paradise Island. In a modern world, Levi would definitely get and try out some sex toys, especially vibrators which he could use on his partner. He would also be a little curious to try them out on himself, but he rather uses them for teasing you. He would have like 2 or 3 items, not too much, not too fancy.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Ohhh, be prepared for a lot of teasing. Levi enjoys to have a little power over you and your pleasure, and he will make use of it. He is especially unfair when it comes to oral, holding your hips in place while he is taking is sweet time to pleasure you. It drives you mad and this man has a lot of patience.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Levi is not really loud, but his soft little grunts and moans are like music. He only gets a little louder when you tease him while giving him head, but he will also scold you for it. That shitmouth. Otherwise, you will hear him whisper “fuck” and “shit” while he is pounding into you and coming close to his climax.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Levi is quite curious when it comes to new techniques. Soon after joining the squad, he discovers that Hanji has quite an interesting collection of books with...a lot of explanations and images. So one day, he asks them to borrow some of these books to study them. But before, he threatens Hanji with death if they tell anyone.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Have you seen Levi’s season 4 arts? This man is packed, damn. Errected I would say he is between 7′0 and 8′0. So Levi’s dick is pretty average in girth, but long. He knows how to use it as good as he uses his swords.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Levi’s sex drive is pretty low, since he is not a horny teen anymore. Of course, he feels the need from time to time, but he can pretty good control himself. When he is in a relationship, however, his sex drive will grow a lot, since it is one of the ways of showing you how much he loves you. If the two of you have time, you will easily have sex 3 or 4 times a week.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Levi only sleeps 3 hours per night, and this will not change after sex. He often holds you until you are asleep and gets up afterwards, to either sleep at his desk or do some paperworks. He will, however, make sure to be back in bed when you wake up.

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imagine-loki · 3 years

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Can you Keep A Secret

TITLE: Can you keep it a secret? CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 3 of 4

AUTHOR: ValarieRavenhearst2 ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine working with Loki in some way but you keep your distance because you have a massive crush on him and you tend to always embarrass yourself. Alas you find yourself in need of his help as you need his magic and he’s the only one for the job.

All the incubators in the lab make it feel like a sauna today, with so many new species needing direct heat, we’ve had to give them their own room. All my specimens look healthy and well after yesterdays’ sampling and I record their status on my iPad. After working by myself for half an hour I make the easy decision to take my jumper off before I start to sweat. As I start to wiggle out of it by easing it over my head, my shirt begins to rise with it and I make that awkward wiggle to try and magically make my shirt fall down without putting my arms back down. Whilst in the midst of my struggle I can hear the keypad being used to unlock the lab door and instinctively I throw myself to my knees to hide as my shirt has risen over my bra. Instant regret. I quickly correct myself on the ground as I hear Dr Banner and another botanist talking idly. The side of my abdomen stings viciously in warning as the material of my shirt goes back over it. I quickly flip it up again to inspect a small scratch now etched over my ribs, ending just under my bra. I hiss quietly in annoyance at my own stupidity as I stand calmly to inspect what I could have scratched myself on. Dr Banner greets me in surprise, obviously questioning what I am doing on the ground.

“Good morning.” I give them both a greeting smile, “I just dropped my jumper.” I wave it at them as proof and they go back to their conversation whilst I look at the plant specimens in front of me. This odd, black looking orchidaceous plant looks awfully ominous with its long bristly thorns of an olive green hue. It must have been the culprit as none of its neighbours have any type of protruding bristles. With a slight panic spiking in my veins I try to examine it’s ID card but it’s information is mostly blank as it hasn’t begun rigours testing yet. Shit! What if it’s poisonous. Surely it would be in a covered incubator if it was known to be poisonous and over in lab 2 with the others. I try not to act concerned as I question if the other two know anything about it and the other botanist, Swanson? I think. Says that the whole table is due for testing today by his team. I just nod in acknowledgment and calmly exit the lab. I mean, I feel okay, right? I don’t feel faint and or woozy. I canter off to the bathroom after throwing my jumper over my chair; I quickly raise my shirt again in the mirror to get a better look. It’s not that bad … I suppose. The thin red slice is only about six centimetres long and it doesn’t look like there’s anything caught in the wound. Honestly, what an idiot. I can’t believe I was so reckless. If bloody Branson found out he’d have my head and he’d carry on for eternity how right he was about me. Oh the ridicule! He’d have me on desk duty till he dies. No one can know! I’m breaking every safety protocol we have but if I am to die from it so be it. I’d rather die quietly than admit my fault to that grumpy old git. After a quick rendezvous with the first-aid box I should be fine. I’ll just have to spy on the other team later to see if they come with anything concerning on the evil looking sucker. Ugh! I can’t believe I just did that. As I exit the bathroom mumbling curses at myself, adjusting my skin tight black turtleneck, a wisp of black enters my peripheral and I know that the god of mischief has returned to the floor. His eyes find me as I cross the open bullpen to my desk and I let go of the hem of my shirt and make an effort to make the concern vanish from my face. Draped in a navy Asgardian attire, he is what my high school best friend would call a snack. I briefly notice accents of gold and olive lining the leather but I am quick to advert my eyes and look busy. I suppose he would be a nice distraction from the sting in my side but I needn’t the extra embarrassment on top of my slightly spiked anxiety. I can hear Branson’s old decrepit voice engaging with that sultry sirens call as they wander by my desk but I make myself continue typing on my computer as if my life depends on it. As soon as he’s passed me I can smell his cologne lingering to tease me. Do Asgardians even wear cologne or is that just him? I shake my head, determined not to let my thoughts distract me. As I continue to work at my desk for the day, every time I stretch and move around I check on the other team working in the lab and notice that pointy little sucker is still out in the open so my panic levels have been low and every time I go to the bathroom I check my side; gently peeling off the large non stick plaster to inspect the fading mark. The redness has reduced so much that I have to strain myself to notice the mark. I steal glances with the God of Mischief throughout the day as he wanders from station to station. I smile politely whenever our eyes meet and always breakaway first to continue working, which I notice earns me a sly grin after the fifth time. See, I knew that tricky bugger was up to something. I just know he purposefully loves to get under my skin. But I am not giving him the satisfaction of watching me blush today. Two can play at that game. Danny surprises me at lunch by bringing me a latte and childish teasing. He sits on the edge of my desk and immediately notices Loki working in the adjacent Lab in clear view of my desk. Trying to be noticeably subtle he continuously taps my shoulder whilst cooing in excitement like a giddy school girl. I shush him and punch him hard in the leg whilst acting like his antics haven’t phased me. I’ve been doing an amazing job of ignoring his presence all morning, he is not going to trick me into actively swooning now.

“Oh he looking.” Danny murmurs whilst turning his head away, tapping my shoulder again.

“Shut up!” I mutter back as I briefly glare at him in warning before retuning my attention to my computer screen.

“Girl he’s definitely checking you out.” He rearranges himself as he opts for standing behind me and leaning over me like he’s studying what I’m doing.

“I’m going to kill you.” I swivel in my chair so that I’m facing away from the Lab. “You’re such a trouble maker.” I hiss and jokingly shove him so not to make a big scene. “Don’t you have work of your own to do?” I question as I make an excuse to walk out of sight by taking my drink bottle to fill it up. Danny follows, chuckling evilly to himself.

“Yeah but this is more fun.” I threaten to throw water on him. “But seriously, he’s definitely watching you.” I could feel it! But I ain’t playing into Danny’s game.

“Yeah right,” I scoff as I begin back to my desk with Danny in tow, “what for? A good laugh if I stumble?” I take my seat but swivel so I’m facing Danny and away from Loki.

“Well no ‘cause I don’t think he’s ever laughed when you’ve embarrassed yourself.” Danny leans against the empty desk adjacent to mine and I gasp at him with forced hurtfulness.

“Are you saying I’m not funny?” I question mockingly and his face grimaces fiercely as he shrugs in agreement.

“Well, either he’s attracted to you or just pities you.” He deduces with his great sleuthing skills. “Which would you prefer?” I scowl so hard at him that he might burst into flames yet his shiteating grin is till carved into his face. I don’t answer, not diving into this ridiculous conversation (not to mention unsafe when he’s so close). With a steady, yet annoyed breath, I exhale loudly before turning back to my computer and turn my concentration up to a hundred and ten percent to block out Loki’s alluring figure in my peripherals.

“I have work to do and if you’ve only come to tease me you can piss off.” I purse my lips together in my best passive resting bitch face before flipping him off. Honestly what an arse – breaking basic friend 101 rules. Don’t joke about the crush in front of the crush.

“So touchy today.” He laughs and kisses me on the cheek before stepping around my desk before I can clock him one. “I’ll see you later.” He teases before leaving and I can feel myself being watched and it is so tempting to look to where that burning urge is coming from but I just know if I make eye contact I’ll blush several noticeable shades. I’ll remain strong, purely out of spite. I finish all my paper work earlier than expected and manage to send off all my reports just has mid afternoon rolls around. Spite is a good focuser. As I’m scanning through my emails to see if I need to reply to any I get a page from Clint to say that he’s on his way up to check out his new arrow heads. I beam excitedly in remembrance, jumping up from my desk and heading over to Lab 2, where I had been storing them in the cool room at the back of the lab. I had been experimenting and developing new knockout gasses and combustibles and I thought adapting them to Clint’s arrow heads would be a more challenging task then the standard grenades. Thus far the little project has been a success, they just haven’t had any field time yet. I notice Loki watching me through his lashes as I swipe into the lab and punch in the code. We’ve already exchanged pleasantries for the day so there’s no need for me to make any form of acknowledgment as I enter. As I enter through the double doors he straightens himself, most likely in expectance that I had entered to speak with him since it’s only he and another botanist in the Lab. But I just walk straight through without a glance which gives me such a surge of power, knowing how much confusion I was causing him even though his poker face is exceptional. After punching in the security code on the fridge I gently pull out the draw with the arrow tips and remove the tray, taking it with me. I have to make eye contact on my way back since focusing straight ahead would be too obvious and the key is subtlety here if I want to be one up on his intimidating behaviour. My lips curve pleasantly at him but I don’t say anything as I head back to the door. Clint is already at my desk and is glancing around for me. He waves happily when he sees me and opens the door for me so I don’t have to.

“Hey,” he smiles at me and I pass him the tray, “you sure these work?” He questions mockingly.

“Have I ever failed you before?” I coyly quirk my brows in rebuke.

“Want to test them with me?” He nods his head at the door for me to follow him and I do with a skip in my step. I did archery as a child but I got nothing on him. I take my time to relish in the fact that Loki hasn’t taken his eyes off me as I exit through the corridor and I even dare a cheeky, subtly seductive glance over my shoulder just to make sure. Oh it feels good to be bad .. no wonder he loves it.

#Loki #others #submission #submitted fic #ValarieRavenhearst2 #can you keep a secret #chapter 3

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mandoalorian · 3 years

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Borrowed Time [Din Djarin x F!Reader]

ੈ♡˳‧₊*: • Chapter 5: The Covert ✩࿐ ˚.✧

Summary: You are the princess of Mandalore, held hostage on your own planet by Moff Gideon and his army of Imperial troopers. Left with no choice, you send out a distress signal; a plea for protection— and who comes? None other than Din Djarin, a foundling of The Death Watch. He, by creed, is your sworn enemy. And where you have asked for his protection, he has been told by his mentor that he must marry you and gain the ability to restore Mandalore to its former glory.

Word Count: 2300>

Warnings: possessive!Din, manhandling, discussions of an arranged marriage, food mention

Series Masterlist

You’d made yourself feel welcome on Nevarro. It was a beautiful day and you made the effort to speak to some of the locals. You even spotted a vendor selling sourberries, so it was a shame that you had no credits on you to make a purchase of the craved food. Grogu was having the time of his life too. He stayed close to you for the most part, but he did take you to a small green water pond so he could eat the frogs when you weren’t looking.

As you adjusted your cloak, you noticed, on the other side of the pond, a group of stormtroopers. There were about five or six of them, standing in a circle and making brief glances back to you and the child. It was enough to make you uncomfortable, that’s for sure. Din wouldn’t have taken you to another Imperial ruled planet. That would have been ridiculously unsafe -- so, why were they there? Maybe you were wrong to leave the ship. Maybe you should head back now.

“Hey kid,” you cooed quietly, reaching out to grab Grogu and hold him in your arms. “We better head back now.”

“Leaving so soon?” A stormtrooper asked, the second you swivelled around on your heel. He was just inches away from your face, so much so, you thought you could see his eyes through the visor of his white Imperial helmet. “We have eyes on the princess.” he announced through a comlink, and your eyes went comically wide upon realising the trouble you had got yourself in.

“Oh no,” you mumbled, your gaze snapping towards the stormtroopers on the other side of the pond, who were now making their way across the shallow waters.If you didn’t make your move now, you’d be surrounded in a matter of seconds. You slowly began to back away, clutching Grogu to your chest for dear life. “Uhm…” you could always negotiate. That was a skill of yours. You just didn’t know how well it would be utilizing in front of half a dozen stormtroopers. “Boys…”

And within a blink, each stormtrooper fell to the floor, one by one, their bodies crashing down with a thud. One even fell into the pond. You felt your entire body stiffen up, your heart rate picking up speed. You spun around again, ready to bolt back into the village and towards the ship, when you went crashing into a beskar chest plate. “Ow!” you cried, rubbing your nose as you pulled away from… Din. Kriff.

You looked up at him, feeling completely and utterly exasperated, and you offered the Mandalorian a weak smile. “I can explain…” you wheezed. “But how did you-- how did you--”

“Whistling birds.” Din replied, his voice having dropped an octave. Even through the modulator he sounded terrifying. You knew what whistling birds were, remembering that your aunt Bo-Katan trusted them deeply. He tapped a few buttons on his wrist gauntlet before grabbing your arm and tugging you away from the backwater pond. His grip on you was tight, and firm, and you swore that he had more strength in his hand than you did your entire body. And you weren’t necessarily weak, you didn’t necessarily have a low muscle mass, it was just the Mandalorian was so hench. That much was clear when you noticed how thick his biceps were or how broad his shoulders were, or the way his muscles flexed in his calves with every step he took. You shouldn’t have noticed these things about him, but the fact is, you had, and it sent you into a frenzy.

Maker, he wasn’t hurting you, but he was absolutely manhandling you, dragging you across the grassy sludge as if you were incapable of walking yourself. “Din-- get off!” You growled, trying to tug your arm out of his grip.

Without hesitation he paused in his footsteps and pulled out a small counter device before flicking the switch and turning it on. Low and behold, a hologram image appeared of you. “What is-- what is that?” you questioned, not liking the look of it at all.

“Bounty puck.” he answered matter-of-factly, before turning it back off and sliding it into his pocket.

“I have a bounty on me?” You asked, your voice going a little too high pitched for comfort. Was that a dumb question?

“Yeah.” Din replied back, in a familiar low modulated grumble, his gloved fingers digging into your skin. “Not just any bounty, an Imperial bounty. You’re lucky I found you before some other hunter got their hands on you.”

“Yeah, I feel very lucky.” you rolled your eyes, your tone of voice dripping with sarcasm. And oh Maker-- Din didn’t like that. He stopped in his footsteps again and this time he grabbed both of your arms, holding you firm and steady. You were scared to breathe the wrong way under his grip.

“You should feel lucky, princess, you know what those kinds of people do to pretty things like you?” he hissed, and you felt a wildness of butterflies erupt in your stomach. Pretty. It was one word and he probably didn’t even mean it. Of course he didn’t mean it, because Din was pissed with you. He wouldn’t be paying you compliments, or at least, not right now. He was trying to intimidate you, and honestly, it was working, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on just a little bit.

And as it turned out, maybe Din liked the idea of being your rescuer a little too much.

“What do they do?” you whispered, and Din trailed a gloved hand to your neck and let his fingers glide across your jaw before grabbing your neck and giving it an experimental squeeze. Again, it didn’t hurt, but it was enough for you to be put in your place. You had been so used to ruling Mandalore and taking charge, but now you were the one who submitted to Din. He was the one who enforced the rules, that much was clear.

Din didn’t reply to your question, just as much meekly chuckled and shook his head. “You’re lucky,” he repeated, reinforcing his previous statement. “But if you want to misbehave, I can just as easily hand you in.”

He wouldn’t, would he? No. He wouldn’t.

He was just very, very mad.

He was trying to scare you, but you wouldn’t cave. You were better than that.

But still, you wanted to know what exactly would happen if you misbehaved. Your curiosity had piqued significantly.

“You left me and Grogu on the ship, alone,” you muttered by the time you had reached the outskirts of the village. “I thought Nevarro was safe.”

“It was,” Din retorted bitterly. “Keep your head down and take my hand. Imps are swarming the town, we need to hide you before they notice anything suspicious.”

You weren’t going to argue with him because in that moment you knew for sure he was still desperately trying to protect you. He could stay angry with you all he liked, but he was bound by the code of Mandalore to make sure nothing happened to you, and that was good enough.

Din pulled up your hood and tied the little ribbon that bound together your cloak. “I can dress myself.” you mumbled.

“Keep your head down.” he grunted in response.

So, as Din dragged you through the cobbled paths, you didn’t look up once. He was taking you along back alleys and different routes to try and avoid any unwelcome contact, but you did realise that he had parked the ship in the north and you were currently advancing east. Grogu made a confused noise as if he was reading your mind.

“Where are we going?” you quizzed Din.

“Safe spot.”

If there was one thing that irked you about the Mandalorian, it was his lack of words, or the way when he did speak, he said things as if they couldn’t be questioned. Like they were set in stone.

“Safe spot?” you quirked an eyebrow, wanting a little more information out of him.

But of course, he didn’t provide. “Safe spot.” he reiterated, before dialling in a code on a security panel that was nailed to a wall.

The door slid open and Din pulled you in, before the door quickly snapped shut behind you both. It was a long dark corridor down that was illuminated with burning candlelight.

And for the very first time since your childhood, you were greeted with the presence of other Mandalorians, each decked out in full body armour. You felt like an intruder who couldn’t help but stare and take in the fascinating sight before you.

“What is this place?” you asked, your jaw agape.

Whatever annoyance Din had been feeling before was instantly eradicated when he took just one look at you. He felt his heart swell in his chest as he noticed the glimmer in your eyes. It was curious and child-like. It gave you this beautiful radiance.

“Covert.” Din replied, the simple one word response offering more information than he’d previously given you. “You’ll be safe here.” he promised.

Din took your hand this time, interlocking his gloved fingers in yours. The touch took you by surprise as it differed from his rough manhandling that you had gotten accustomed too. You followed Din down the never ending corridor until eventually, you both passed through an alcove and were introduced to a golden Mandalorian.

“This is the Armorer,” Din said. “She’s my mentor.”

The golden Mandalorian curtseyed before you before rising back to her feet. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, your highness.”

“The pleasure is mine.” you hummed, still slightly distracted by your whereabouts.

“This specific covert is over two hundred years old,” The Armorer explained to you. “It was the only covert that wasn’t raided during the Great Purge,” You winced at the way she had brought up the memory. “The walls are thick and we have a squad on defence. I trust that Din Djarin has been treating you well?”

You tried to hold back a smirk as you wondered what would happen if you told his mentor of how he’d gotten angry with you. But the truth was, Din had been good to you. Maybe more so than you probably deserved. He never chose to take on this mission, but done so because it was his duty. He was helping you because it was the right thing to do, and that was enough. Morally, Din might have considered himself grey, but you believed that he was in fact a good person.

“He’s been great.” you said softly, and Din felt his cheeks heat up under the beskar.

“Hmph,” the Armorer replied before turning to the Mandalorian. “Can I have a word with you in private, please?”

You furrowed your eyebrows in bewilderment as you watched Din and his mentor walk away, leaving you with Grogu.

“She’s not wearing the ring,” The Armorer said, and despite the golden plated mask that covered her face, Din just knew she was frowning. “You haven’t asked her yet, have you?”

“I haven’t exactly gotten the chance,” Din huffed. “We’ve just met. If I asked her now she’d never say yes. We barely even know each other.”

“But you are getting along fine?” The Armorer asked, and Din didn’t reply. He just breathed an exasperated huff of air which wasn’t even picked up by his modulator. “We can’t give her the protection she desires if she doesn’t marry into the Watch. This is the way.” The Armorer explained matter-of-factly.

This is the way. Din often wondered if the Armorer just made up ‘the way’ as she went along, using it as a way to justify all her decisions. Although, it did make sense, to a degree. Din’s creed were very proud. They were strong, and there were at least thirty other children of the Watch roaming the halls of the covert. If you married into Din’s creed, you would technically become a child of the Watch yourself. You’d be safe.

Would it be wise to bring up the things you had told Din about the Watch, and how they had treated your people? Din had been questioning it, but there was no way of telling how the Armorer would react to such gossip. The last thing Din needed right now was for his mentor to think he was betraying his creed in favour of the princess.

The prolonged silence between both Mandalorians prompted the Armorer to speak up again. “You have until nightfall to propose. Otherwise she must leave, and you will seek new protection.”

And that was when the first penny dropped. This was essentially blackmail, and it left Din with no choice. Sure, you were great. You were strong and beautiful and you had this undeniable fiest about you. And Din saw the way you were with Grogu. It was enough to soften him more than he’d ever been softened before. You brought out a completely new side to the Mandalorian. Maybe one day, Din could marry you - out of want, not need. Maybe settling down with you and the kid would be… nice.

He’d thought about the prospect of leaving everything behind when he last ventured to Sorgan and befriended the gentle widow Omera. But in that moment, he had other priorities to focus on. But what were his priorities now? Before you came into his life, he was simply floating between bounties and residing on Nevarro with Grogu. Grogu. That was Din’s priority. And now… you were too. So no, proposing wouldn’t be ideal. But if it meant guaranteeing your safety, Din knew what he had to do.

And he had until nightfall.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

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acourtofsnakes · 3 years

Text

Kyr’am - Rogue Chapter 5| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader (f)

Summary: Sick of the countless failures, Moff Gideon decides to call in the big guns.

Warnings: Not many in this one, but mentions of violence(brief), brief mention of suicide, (literally barely touching on it), does another cliffhanger count as a warning?

AN: Ooooooo, new people 👀

As always, credit to whoever owns the gif. I usually find them on Google or Pinterest, so message me if it’s yours ♥︎

Wordcount: About 2184, a short one this time for introduction purposes

Rogue Taglist: @snipskixandbeskar @weirdowithnobeardo

Mando’a translation: Kyr’am - Death

The atmosphere in the light cruiser was… tense. Beyond tense, actually. The tension as almost a living thing, vibrating throughout the room and threatening to explode into destruction if someone said but one thing wrong.

Moff Gideon stood at the head of the huge table, staring at the holo-image in the middle of it with a look of distinct distaste. His hands were clasped behind his back as he surveyed the image, a young woman wearing a cloak, fire in her eyes and a ridiculously high bounty above her head. His anger and disappointment were evident, obvious to the men and women seated around the table before him.

There was a break in the air, and then a young woman, Gideon’s Comms Officer and assistant, decked out in the dark grey green uniform walked in. Her even, regimented steps echoed on the floor and she stopped a little way away, offering a quick salute, “Sir, I have just received the report you requested from our spies in the field.”

The air tightened in the room, the people seated around the table holding their breath, hoping it was good. Hoping it wasn’t what had been rumoured.

Gideon looked away from the table, seeing what his people were holding out for. He turned to his assistant, nodded for her to continue.

The woman looked across the table, a glint in her eye and a faint smirk dancing across her lips fleetingly. “They got in touch with the contact who was representing you. Apparently, the hunter succeeded in finding the target.”

The collection of people around the table sagged in relief, one even going so far as to rub his eyes as he let out a sigh.

The assistant couldn’t hide her smirk this time, allowing it for a few seconds, “And then he went rogue.”

Gideon knew this already, but this is a punishment for the people that promised him he’d get what he wanted “Rogue? What do you mean by that, officer?”

“He found the target and began to bring her back as requested. They got into an altercation at another planet, some witnesses said there was a fight in a back alley and the last they saw was the target dragging the hunter back to his ship.”

The table was still, dread beginning to curl around the room like a snake, twining around feet and legs and flicking out a tongue to taste the danger that lingered on the horizon.

“And then?”

The assistant’s voice came out clear, almost disinterested, “And the next thing that we have, is the tracker and puck being destroyed. As of half an hour ago, no one knows where they are.”

Gideon dismissed her then turned to the table. He sighed, looking at the man who had recommended the Hunter this time, “’The best there is.’ That is what you told me, captain. ‘He’ll have her within a week and be back here to collect his reward.’ Well, captain, it’s been a week.” He spread his hands, his eyebrows raising in a mock expression of wonder. He looked around the room, then back at the captain, “Where is she? Are you hiding her under your seat?”

The captain swallowed harshly, a sheen of sweat crawling over his skin. He kept his hands under the table because they were shaking, “N-no, sir.”

Gideon shrugged, that false wonder still in his voice too, “Then where is she? I took a great risk in following your advice. And it hasn’t paid off.”

“Sir, please! I didn’t know this would happen. I thought the bounty on her would be enough to keep him straight. My sources said he was running out of money, that he was exchanging favours instead of credits for the repair of his ship. He couldn’t have turned that money down. I don’t know what happened, maybe she tricked him. Used her power to-“

Gideon’s hands slammed onto the table, echoed only by his snarl, “Enough.”

The captain cut off, unable to stop the pitiful whimper. No one moved, no one looked at him. They all knew what was inevitably coming.

Gideon pointed at the pain, “Don’t you dare try to make a fool of me. It’s on your authority that this has gone wrong again.” He straightened up, “Every single one of you is to blame. Each one of you let me down. You will be punished. As it is, I have found other means. Expensive means.”

A lady lifted her hand, trembling.

Gideon’s eyes slipped to her, his eyebrows raising just slightly.

The lady swallowed, “Everyone knows she hasn’t used that power since she was a child. As far as we know, it doesn’t even exist in her anymore. I.. what’s the point?”

Gideon looked at her, his dark eyes simmering but he said nothing.

Only for a man across from the captain to speak up, “She’s right. They say if one of those types doesn’t use their power, they forget how to wield it. The Child repressed his powers for decades.”

Gideon was impatient now, waved his hand dismissively, “And then used it repeatedly in presence of the Mandalorian. It can come back. I have proof that it has. She used her power to heal him.”

“But, sir, we don’t know that-“

The atmosphere in the room noticeably shifted again. This time, the danger became something so much more.

It became a truly living thing that pressed against the traitors around the table. It licked down their bones, caressed their minds but it sung a song of death and destruction.

The door slid open, and then a figure walked into the room.

He was clad head to toe in black, a black so dark it seemed to suck the light of the room.

His tall, lithe body was armed with weapons of every variety, everything one could possibly imagine and more that were only rumoured, weapons that had been made just for him.

He stalked into the room with all the ease of a predator walking into the den of some small, helpless animals. And relished in the sheer power he had without even trying.

The harsh lighting of the room glinted off the blade sheathed down his back. The scabbard was engraved with symbols, symbols that had long since been used. The hilt was as black as his outfit, and intricately carved. If he had unsheathed it, the blade would have been as deep as obsidian, and so sharp it could have sliced off someone’s hand with a mere whisper.

He stopped at the opposite end of the table to Gideon, shoulders back, posture tall and at ease, but coiled beneath the surface, waiting to strike.

A hood covered his face, gold embroidery picked out by the lights and snaking around the edges of the hood.

No light pierced the shadow that fell over his face, keeping him anonymous.

Clearly the captain realised he wasn’t getting off this ship, because he suddenly broke the deathly silence by laughing. “Seriously? Is it dress up day or something?” He looked around the room at the horrified expressions looking back at him, “What? Are we supposed to be scared or something?” His arrogance was barred by the sweat pooling into the neckline of his uniform, the frantic pulse at his throat.

The night-clad figure said nothing. Merely rested his gloved hands on the table. A simple act.

But the air in the room vibrated, a warning.

Gideon inclined his head toward the figure, “Thank you for coming. You understand that I would have left your services be if these fools hadn’t failed me.”

The cloaked man nodded once, a slow incline of his head that somehow said everything he needed to. That he wouldn’t even have paid attention otherwise.

Another woman at the table, a general, inquired quietly, “His services, sir? Does this mean-“

“Yes, General. It does. Never in my life have I been so spectacularly let down by a group of people before. You were supposed to the best in your fields, yet you couldn’t give me one tiny little girl.”

The woman swallowed, nodded and looked at the table in submission.

Again, the Captain added another nail to his coffin, “You’re giving this freak the job? If we couldn’t find her, if even Trandoshans and Troopers and two Mandalorian’s can’t get her, what makes you think he’s qualified?” He stabbed a finger toward the figure, who remained silent, a predator watching their next mean.

Gideon glared at him, losing his patience with this captain, “Because he is the best there is.”

A snort from the foolish captain, “Oh? And why would you bring him in just now? Why not before?”

Gideon’s glare could have cut through metal, his words clipped, “Because he has a very unique skill set that I would rather not be associated with using. However, because of this situation and the necessity of obtaining her, it makes him the most qualified.”

“Skill set? Like what? Is he going to bed the girl and then drag her in? Or does he have a-“

The captain’s words were cut off with a gurgle, and his eyes went wide. His chair pushed back and then he was rising from his seat, as if pulled up by strings. Every limb of his body was frozen, rigid. Like he was no longer in control.

The figure had finally moved, lifting one of those gloved hands in a gesture that was almost casual. He tilted his head within his cloak, and a voice like silk slipped out, far too soft, far too seductive to belong to anyone good, “Perhaps you’ve been living under a rock and you’ve simply never heard of me.” His voice was crooning, desirable. It belonged to the deepest pits, full of monsters and creatures. It was the very darkness that plagued you, seduced you in a voice like honey – and then devoured you.

Undiluted terror dawned on the captain’s face. He flinched, twitching, trying to claw at the invisible hold on his throat that was slowly crushing his windpipe.

The cloaked figure lifted his head, like he was scenting the fear oozing from the captain.

This man was a dark legend. A rumour that you had to be crazy to whisper, for fear of unleashing his dark wrath upon the speaker. Many, many people had heard the rumours of a hunter so precise, so ruthless that he left no trace. People went missing, and then showed up days later completely unrecognisable, bodies so destroyed that even the most advanced robots couldn’t extract enough DNA to give the victims a name.

His work wasn’t messy though, that’s what made him so terrifying.

It wasn’t just clean and efficient. It was beautiful. This was a man that relished in his skillset, lived for the hunt and the kill. Breathed it. It ran through his veins, worked the muscles of his heart.

The fiercest warriors had dropped to their knees and wept for their lives before him. Mere mortals had died just from the sight of him.

As soon as he got the scent of someone, they may as well have ended their own lives to spare the pain.

Many had. And it still didn’t stop him from finding the bodies and playing.

The rumours also whispered that he wasn’t human. That he had sold his soul but even the vilest of monsters hadn’t wanted it. They’d taken one look and given it back. He wasn’t born by the Maker; he was something else entirely. He had no trace of soul in him aside from the Force, which he had twisted and utilised for his formidable beauty and indescribable actions.

Gideon watched him play with the Captain, “You will receive the payment on her head and more. We know your prices and are grateful for your services, you may have whatever you need to assist you.”

The man flicked a finger and the Captain dropped to the ground, some guards dragging him away, “Just stay out of my way. You can keep the kid and the Mandalorian, but the girl is mine when you’re done with her.” The possession in his voice when said the word, “mine” sent a chill down the spines of everyone in the room. There was no room for disagreement, for challenge. They would finish what they needed to do with you, and then you would be given to him. Probably wrapped in a bow.

Then he was gone, walking out of the room in a preternatural silence.

This man… he didn’t just exude fear. He was fear. His were the eyes in the dark that watched you walk home. He was the voice that whispered when no-one else could hear. His breath was the kiss of ice that licked down your spine when you were alone, making you lock the doors, pull the bed covers up higher. But he was like smoke, he seeped through the cracks, through carefully built defences and invaded, slumbering like a beast within, without his host even realising.

He was death.

And he was coming for you.

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#the mandalorian x force sensitive! reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x force sensitive! reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian #the force #rogue #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you

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avengerscompound · 3 years

Text

Small Gods: Lazy Mornings - 7

Lazy Mornings: A Captain America Fanfic

Lazy Mornings Masterlist | More Small Gods PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count: 1764

Warnings: mentions of drug use

Synopsis: Steve Rogers has trouble taking time for himself. When his friends set him up with a person with a very unusual skill, perhaps he can learn that the quiet moments are just as important as everything else.

Chapter 7

On the day of the dinner party, Steve was nervous. The feeling seemed misplaced for a few reasons. The first and most obvious reason was that most of the group had already met you. Thor had even been the one to introduce you to Steve, so it wasn’t like he didn’t already know that at least half of the team would like you. He knew for a fact that they did. So there was no need to worry about them telling him that you weren’t good enough for him or of him having to decide if he was going to spend time with you or them because they refused to spend any time with you. In that respect it was fine.

The other reason he was anxious was that it felt like he was bringing his girlfriend home to meet his parents. It was a feeling that was absurd for many reasons, not least of which he was over a hundred years old and well past the ‘bringing home the prospective partner to meet the folks’ stage of his life. Not to mention that the Avengers weren’t his parents anyway - they were all young enough to be his grandchildren.

There was something of an official feeling about the dinner. Whether that was just in Steve’s head or not, it felt like he was choosing you. This was his way of saying ‘this is the person I want in my life and I hope you can all welcome her into your lives because she’s part of mine’.

So he worried that you wouldn’t like them, or they wouldn’t like you. Or that something disastrous would happen. Or that it would go perfectly and everyone would love you and you would love them and a good time would be had, and soon Natasha and Wanda would be taking you out shopping or Clint and Tony would be meeting you out for brunch or Bruce and Sam would be inviting you around for movie night, and then Steve would realize that you and he were too different and you’d end up breaking up and then he’d take you away from people who cared about you.

He dressed up - well at least for him. It wasn’t a tux or anything so grand but he did go for a nice button-up shirt in a soft blue that shimmered slightly in the light, and a pair of charcoal trousers. He went downstairs to wait for you in the lobby and when he saw you, it felt like the air had been pulled from his lungs.

Breathtaking barely even covered how you looked to him.

You were wearing a floor-length gown in a floaty chiffon that was such a pale blue it was almost white. It tapered in at the waist where a satin ribbon acted as a kind of belt, separating the loose chiffon skirt from the bunched chiffon bodice that was clipped together on your shoulders with what almost looked like silver buckles. Each step you took made the skirts billow out like mist around your legs - legs which were clearly visible through the almost translucent fabric.

You looked ethereal. Like something plucked straight from a dream. Yet here you were, real and with a smile on your face that told him exactly how happy you were to see him.

“Steve,” you said, kissing his cheek as he curled his arm around your waist. “You didn’t have to wait for me.”

Already he was starting to get that soft, relaxed feeling he got when he was around you. He knew by the end of the night he’d be in a deep soporific state and he’d end up sleeping the good restful sleep that used to elude him.

“I wanted to,” he said. “Besides, I didn’t want you to have to walk into that group alone.”

You laughed and let him lead you toward the elevators. “That bad, huh?”

Steve’s laughter joined yours and he shook his head. “No. Well… I’m not sure. I think Tony plans to interrogate you.”

“For them, I am an open book,” you assured him.

When you were both inside the elevator car, you leaned in against him and he pulled your body flush to his. You leaned in, bringing your lips to his, and for the remainder of the ride up, the two of you kissed, slowly and deeply, pressed up against the elevator wall.

When the elevator stopped and the doors slid open, it took a moment for Steve to realize. It wasn’t until a loud ‘woo’ and Clint yelling ‘get it, cap’ that startled him out of the moment. He pulled back from you and looked around at the group of his friends who were all staring in at the two of you.

“So,” Tony teased, breaking the silence. “Who’s your friend?”

Heat crept into Steve’s cheeks and he shook his head to clear it before introducing you to the others and stepping out of the elevator. Just before Tony dragged you away from him, you leaned in, bringing your lips to Steve’s ear. “I think that was my fault,” you whispered, before being whisked off to the bar.

Thor approached Steve as most of the others all seemed to surround you and start the interrogation. The god clapped Steve on the shoulder as he stepped up beside him. “I’m glad to see you so happy,” he said.

“I wasn’t unhappy,” Steve said.

“That’s not what I said,” Thor said. “Do you think she might be the one?”

Steve took a moment to watch you with her friends. He could already see the effect you had on people working on Wanda and Bruce who were both the most willing to allow it to happen. “I love her,” he said, making Thor break out into a large smile.

“That is wonderful!” Thor boomed. “Have you told her as such?”

Steve shook his head. “You know me,” he said. “The king of waiting.”

“What is holding you back?” Thor asked. “Life is fleeting, you should take your moments when you can. Trust me.”

“I know,” Steve sighed, shaking his head. “Trust me, I know that from experience. It’s just… I love being with her, and I love how I feel when I am with her. I guess I worry that when the novelty of that calm feeling wears off, there might not be anything else. And, I worry that I’m using her for a feeling I get rather than who she is. And… I guess I worry about how this works long-term. She’s a god. I don’t know what it means to marry a god.”

Thor laughed loudly and squeezed Steve’s shoulder. “The gods can marry and have happy lives. As for the rest, you’re overthinking, she’s been around for a long time, do you think she can’t recognize when the connection isn’t true?”

Steve smiled. “You’re right. I need to trust my feelings - and hers.”

“I’m always right,” Thor joked.

“Alright everyone,” Tony announced. “I paid a lot of money for caterers, and they said the food is ready so let's not let it go cold.”

Everyone took their seats, Steve making sure he was sitting next to you. You pressed your leg against him and skimmed the back of your fingers up the outside of his leg. The conversation at the table moved easily and Steve was happy that everyone was getting along with you so well.

When the soup was served (a cream of wild mushroom served with goat cheese crostini), Steve was beginning to see the soporific effects of being around you take effect on everyone. Bruce had that same blissed-out look on his face that he was wearing the day Steve had first met you. Clint looked slightly high, and Wanda was smiling and quietly watching everyone as she carefully ate her soup. Everyone else was starting to slow down a little and the conversation had gone from loud and quick moving to slower and quieter.

When the main course came out (individual pot pies served with herb-roasted vegetables), Tony slowly shook his head. “Does anyone else feel like they’ve been drugged?”

You and Steve laughed.

“That’s me,” you said. “I’m sorry.”

“You drugged me?” Tony asked, narrowing his eyes at you.

Steve laughed harder as you shook your head. “No. You know what I am though, correct?”

“We warned you,” Clint teased. “She makes you all soft and sleepy.”

Tony looked at Steve dumbfounded. “You’re okay with just feeling like this? You?”

Steve laughed. “When you get used to it, you can fight it more, and it doesn’t work quite as easily. But it’s nice to give over to the feeling sometimes.”

Tony shook his head like he was trying to clear it. “Ugh, I hate it. I feel like I need to drink eight cups of coffee.”

“Can’t you just relax for a change?” Pepper teased. “Maybe you’ll like not being a bundle of nervous energy.”

“You know I can’t,” he said and waved over one of the wait staff. “Coffee, please. Lots of it.”

Everyone laughed. “You’re hopeless, you know?” Pepper teased.

“Maybe so,” Tony said. “So, you’re both serious about each other? I’ll be expecting you here at the Tower more often.”

Both you and Steve looked at each other, scared about saying something that would scare the other off. Steve was the one that spoke first. “I certainly hope so.”

“I’d love that,” you said, and in a move that was completely out of character for Steve, he leaned in and kissed you.

It wasn’t lewd or graphic - just a gentle and chaste brush of his lips over yours. It still made the whole group make a mixture of oohs, ahhs and, whoops in an attempt to make Steve blush. You laughed softly and brushed your thumb over his cheek.

“You make a cute couple, Cap,” Sam said.

“Speed is still illegal right?” Tony asked as the waiter came back with a pot of coffee. “I think I’m going to have to start taking speed if you’re going to be coming around regularly.”

Pepper shook her head in resignation. “You are ridiculous, you know that?”

Steve smiled as the conversation returned to the room a little more energetically than before, as people began to push through the effect you had on them. It strangely made him relax a little more - if that was possible. He needed to tell you how he really felt, and now he felt ready. He loved you and he wanted you to be a more permanent feature in his life.

// NEXT

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america #captain america fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #small gods #lazy mornings

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justmaybee · 3 years

Text

Feather Sensitive

Summary: Oh, Yamaguchi’s really done it this time. He should just keep his mouth shut from now on. Unfortunately, that’s the exact opposite of what Hinata wants.

A/N: Y’ello! Another off-brand one, but hopefully a fandom peeps recognize. I haven’t seen Haikyuu in a lil, but I love Yamigoops and this has been 90% done for forever so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Based entirely off the second headcanon here, by @ticklishnonsense — absolutely loved it and you can tell cuz I wrote this ages ago for no other reason than having it written down for myself~

A big thank you to OP for letting me use her work as inspiration!!

———

This was a mistake. This was a mistake. This was a mistake.

Yamaguchi can’t will his mind into more elaborate thought, because it’s all just suddenly sunken in.

Hinata’s weight, heavy but not uncomfortable, resting snug on his hips. The loose tank top, just slightly too big on him, stolen out of Kageyama’s stuff at some point during one sleepover or another. And that ridiculously giant feather Hinata’s got poised between his fingers, like it’s a quill and Yamaguchi is a trembling, twitchy sheet of parchment about to be marked up.

When had he told Hinata? Why had he told Hinata?

Tsukki had figured it out, years and years ago; during one of their many one-sided tickle fights, Yamaguchi thinks. It’s been used against him for as long as he can remember, stray fluff from down pillows and blankets brushed over his neck or feet to pull a sudden and squeaky laugh. He’s never, ever told Tsukki just how much it really tickled though, and Tsukki never asked.

So why did he have to go and mention this to a person just as skilled and merciless in tickling people—often Yamaguchi people—into boneless puddles of teary, hysterical laughter?

It’s got to be Hinata’s charm. If Tsukishima has his cold, borderline apathetic, poise to lay base for his killer teasing method, then Hinata’s strength comes in his natural curiosity. Wide eyes, a light voice, and an openness that makes Yamaguchi feel like he can talk to him.

This, apparently, is not the case in a topic involving feathers. Because Yamaguchi will apparently lose all sense of self-preservation and voice his thoughts on how unbearably sensitive he is to a thing most people will flinch at and brush away like nothing.

But of course, it’s too late for him to realize his mistake now. It wasn’t until Hinata came barreling down the hall, shopping bag in hand, to tackle Yamaguchi to the living room carpet that things started rolling into motion.

Now Hinata’s got Yamaguchi pinned, arms under his knees and a big, big smile stretched over his face. It’s so genuine and excited that Yamaguchi finds himself getting a little lost in it, at least until the feather comes back into focus.

“I mean come on, Yamaguchi.” Hinata holds the quill of the feather and traces the soft end up his own arm, dusting it over his collarbone and getting just a hint of a twitch out of his lips before twirling it between his fingers. “I almost think that you’re lying to me.”

But his face must convince Hinata otherwise, because he doesn’t look like he thinks it’s a lie. The tracing of the feather, even along Hinata’s skin has Yamaguchi twitching, breathing funny. Goosebumps rise along his arms, and Hinata is so riled up with energy—so ready to take Yamaguchi apart—that it’s practically impossible for the brunette to even try and stop the wobbly smile making its way onto his face.

Hinata is the one to burst the bubble of anticipation building slowly in Yamaguchi’s gut. He laughs, a delighted little sound, commenting on the cute pink of Yamaguchi’s blush before he goes in for the kill. And Yamaguchi has never been that great at holding back his reactions, especially when he’s already a tense and flustered mess untouched, so the result is pretty immediate.

The first giggle slips hesitantly out of his throat but clears the way for many more as Hinata gently traces the base of his neck, skimming over his collarbones like even a feather could break them if used too harshly.

It’s a little timid, a little reserved, which is a major change of pace from Hinata’s usual quick and dirty way of fighting. He’s always had a ‘take no prisoners’ sort of approach to a tickle fight; either win outright or die trying, but the new method seems to slow him down a bit.

He’s thinking, watching. And luckily, for him and most certainly not Yamaguchi, the change seems to work really well with the soft touch of the feather. Pulling giggle after giggle from his victim and making him sputter at the attention when he realizes how closely he’s being observed.

The plume travels slowly up Yamaguchi’s neck, high enough that he’s able to jerk his head to block out either side as it passes. Unfortunately, that just causes Hinata to speed up the back and forth strokes, attempting to dodge Yamaguchi’s blocks. And it’s effective and so much more ticklish, Yamaguchi chokes on his sudden snort and tosses his head back on impulse, laughter getting louder and more desperate as Hinata takes advantage of the newly exposed skin.

He keeps at it until Yamaguchi feels light-headed, a little delirious with his laughter completely unchecked. The feather strays to flick up over his ear, and the whimpering laugh that comes out keeps Hinata there until Yamaguchi’s shoulder is twitching spastically of its own accord, desperately trying to stop the light, constant brush over his sensitive skin.

He gets a break—thank God—after a few minutes of this. Being dubbed most ticklish in the house (after many, many tests) has left him with pretty high stamina. But somehow a few minutes of Hinata and a feather has him panting for breath like he’d just finished a hundred laps around the gym.

Yamaguchi is so caught up in catching his breath (and trying to calm that tic in his shoulder) that he doesn’t really think about how breaks aren’t much of Hinata’s style either.

His floaty mind comes to bite him when he feels two soft points of contact touch down on his wrists.

His arms jolt on instinct. His elbows move a smidge in either direction but stick firm to the ground. Hinata’s smile takes on a wicked gleam and...oh boy.

If Yamaguchi gets out of this alive, the others will have some real competition for scariest tickler.

The feathers sweep back and forth, back and forth over his arms. They start at the wrist, and would almost feel nice if not for the impending sense of doom that has blood rushing through Yamaguchi’s ears right now.

The swaying movement drifts up, painfully slow. He doesn’t even think it tickles that much right now, but that doesn’t stop him from physically biting his lip to stop the snickers from making their way out.

It’s when the pair reach his inner elbow that first crack appears. Yamaguchi gasps and Hinata perks up, keeping the feathers there a moment longer, letting them sweep side to side a little faster.

From there the cracks spiderweb exponentially.

The gasp ends up turning into a snort. As Himata continues his path upward, it becomes a whine. And when he’s at the faint line where his skin darkens with a tan, from long summer days spent out in a t-shirt, he decides to flick the feathers in an alternating pattern over either arm.

It has Yamaguchi rocking back and forth in a way that he guesses might look kind of funny. Hinata starts laughing anyways. And of course, it’s enough to get Yamaguchi’s lips to loosen and let out the stream of bubbling giggles he’s been suppressing for far too long already.

His arms feel warm, almost as hot as his face, even though their air conditioning has been working pretty decently lately. There’s a faint tingly feeling still left where the feathers had once brushed his skin.

Everything already feels so sensitive, and Hinata isn’t even there yet.

There are butterflies having a—a mosh pit in his stomach right now. He can’t remember the last time he felt so wound up getting tickled. Then again, he can’t remember the last time Hinata put this much...care? Is that the right word for this situation? —into destroying him.

It makes Yamaguchi a little happy, for some reason.

And sometime about that moment seems to be the limit for Hinata’s concentration, because the change from gentle, teasing touches to his usual form of attack is both quick and excruciating.

The moment after, when Yamaguchi suddenly has two feathers sweeping fast little strokes under his arms, his brain completely short circuits.

What leaves his mouth can only be called a shriek and it’s quickly drowned out by the squeaky, panicked laughter that floods the room immediately.

His chest is jerking side to side in vain. There’s hair in his eyes and a little in his mouth from how violently he’s tossing his head around, but he can’t register a thing beyond the millions of wispy, light strands fluttering a fast track over and over and over the soft and sensitive skin beneath his restrained arms.

Hinata gets the bright idea to not try and jam the delicate things towards the floor anymore. He instead tries twirling them in a circular motion in the spaces underneath Yamaguchi’s arms.

Yamaguchi didn’t think his voice was high enough to screech like he used to, but ‘Hey, you learn something new everyday,’ he thinks, entirely delirious.

His back arches off the ground, head tossing back then pressing into his shoulder as if it’ll somehow smother his hysterical laughter.

It’s bright and desperate and so, so loud. Yamaguchi would typically only reach this point when someone’s feeling particularly ruthless with plenty of time to spare, but it could be hours since Hinata first got him pinned down; it sure feels like it.

There are weird little squeaks that pierce the air when he’s got the breath. His limbs are doing this constant squirm that’s got him feeling hot all over. His lashes feel wet and he knows it’s a matter of seconds before the tears start to fall.

But nothing is more prominent than the feeling of soft, soft, so very soft; and it tickles, it tickles, it really tickles.

———

When Yamaguchi’s brain finally starts rebuilding from the mush, hiccuping giggles making their way through his gasps for breath, he feels Hinata still sitting on top of him. Thankfully—mercifully—though, the feathers are nowhere to be seen, and his hands have been let free.

Seeing Hinata’s hand in his peripheral makes him flinch, but he just wipes at Yamaguchi’s cheek, brushing away the leftover moisture.

“I had to stop because you were starting to look like a strawberry,” Hinata grins. His skin is cool against Yamaguchi’s. He leans into the touch.

“So...was that awesome or what?” Hinata continues, voice energetic though he still rubs a soothing motion over Yamaguchi’s cheek.

Yamaguchi takes a second to reflect. On the dreamy tiredness seeping into his bones, the floaty high that fills up his head.

He nods, once or twice. Though from where Hinata’s sitting, it could just be Yamaguchi nuzzling into his hand. That’s fine. Yamaguchi could use the plausible deniability.

Once he’s been declared as officially ‘not a strawberry anymore,’ Hinata helps him up. He only stumbles a little bit, but of course Hinata has to poke fun.

“You know what that means?” Hinata throws out, arm linked with Yamaguchi’s as they make their way to a well-deserved seat on the couch.

Yamaguchi hums in response.

“We’ve gotta start building up your tolerance.”

Yamaguchi’s eyes widen, but he’s pushed onto the couch with a lap full of Hinata before he can say anything. He looks up at Yamaguchi all big eyes and a bigger smile. Yamaguchi swallows.

“We’re doing that again, soon.“

#bee stuffs #tickling #tickle fic #Hinata #Yamaguchi #based off the og post #there’s some college poly first year vibes #but it’s up for interpretation idk #ticklish!Yamaguchi #as he de-serves #Haikyuu

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crashdevlin · 3 years

Text

Another Second Chance 18- Therapy

Another Second Chance Masterlist, Happily Ever Eventually Masterlist

Author’s Note: The final (hopefully) installment of the Happily Ever Eventually RPF series.

Summary: Y/n finds herself a new house and Misha is determined to make it a huge project.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Word count: 2993

Story Warnings: past cheating, mentions of FFM threesome, not much in this one

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It’s pretty, right?” I ask, looking around the open concept of the first floor of this $350,000 house.

“Kitchen’s kinda outdated,” Jensen says, pointing at the fridge. “I mean, that fridge has gotta be from when you were in high school.”

“I could buy new appliances, Jay. Get a natural gas stove set up. Install some cabinet pulls, because I’m not a really big fan of this whole lack of elements.” I gesture at the cabinets. “Probably stain it a little darker to go against the flooring. But it’s pretty, right?”

Jay smiles. “Yeah. It’s pretty...and it’s about twice as big as the one you’ve been living in. Which is what you need.”

“Yeah. Walk-in closet in the master, too. It’ll be a good place to put the security hub.”

“Or you could put the security hub in the closet in the den and put your clothes in the master closet,” Jay suggests, grumpy old man in his tone. "And if you're gonna update the kitchen, you gotta update the bathrooms. Get one of those-"

"I am not getting an automatic toilet!" I laugh. "No one needs that!"

"Of course no one needs it but it's freakin' awesome!"

"Okay, Dean," I tease.

"Dean would agree with me. Automatic toilet, with the bidet and the-"

"Dean Winchester would break an automatic toilet and then complain that it's a damn computer which means he can't fix it without help."

Jay laughs. "He'd still think it was cool."

"He'd be down for the heated seat. I will give you that much."

He smiles as he looks around. "So...are we looking at your new digs or what?"

I bite my bottom lip and run my hand over the granite countertop. “Shouldn’t I ask Nova's opinion? It's gonna be her home, too."

"She's a teenager. As long as she's got her own room, I'm sure she's gonna be fine." He sets his hands on my shoulders and smiles. "But you can show her pictures or bring her by before you sit down with the realtor."

I nod and smile. "It's in the right school district and a bigger room for her and for Mav and the bonus room can be an office. I really think it's the place."

"Then get it," he encourages. "Get it, Baby Girl. We can make it perfect. I'm no stranger to a little reno."

"Please," I start, laughing. "A contractor did the work on your old place. Shush."

He looks a little offended. "I helped. I painted. I installed the sink in the half bath off the kitchen."

"Fine. You can stain these cabinets for me." I wink and step away from him. I'm gonna get this house. "Come on." I walk to the foyer where the realtor is waiting and I smile at him. "Can I put in an offer now or should I wait a few hours?" He smiles brighter than the sun.

"You can make an offer anytime, Miss."

Miss. Still young enough to get 'miss'. "Good. Let's do this."

~~~~~~~~~

"Four bedroom, 2 and a half bath, 3200 square feet with an office next to the master bed. It needs some updating and work...had a contractor quote me $60,000 but that's not bad...covers new appliances, too."

"I could come down and help," Misha offers. "You know, a lot of that stuff you can DIY and I can help with most of it."

"You don't have to do that, Meesh."

"Why would I let you spend that much money on something I could help you with for a fraction of the cost?"

"Misha, you really don’t-"

"I'm not letting you tell me 'no' on this. We'll get together some manpower and get this done for you."

He's really not going to let me say 'no'. "Okay. Well, it's going to be several weeks before the paperwork is finished and all that. I'll let you know when it's mine."

"Good. I'll start looking at HGTV.com." Damn it, Misha. Don't be so extra. "And send me pictures and a floorplan so I know what I'm working with."

"Yeah, okay." Really no point in arguing. It's Misha. If I don't send him pics and a copy of the floorplan, he'll just find the house and get them himself off the internet. "I'll send it to you after my appointment tomorrow, okay?"

"Sounds good. Talk to you then."

"Bye, Meesh." I hang up and sigh. He's gonna make it this whole thing, isn't he?

His house in Washington did come out amazing, though, so he does have some skills that will help in this. Eh, why not? Why not get together with my best friend and make my new home my own?

"So, I get to see this house eventually, right?" Nova says, walking into the living room.

I smile. "Come see all these pretty pictures I took and we can speculate on what craziness Misha is gonna come up with." I pat the couch next to me and she comes over. "This is the view from the street." I start showing her the pictures and she claims a room before I've even finished the digital tour.

"Oh, and you're gonna paint the exterior, right? Like, it's pretty but it's yellow. You're gonna fix that, right?"

"Oh, I'm sure Misha isn't going to let me move into another drab house. You weren’t here the first time he showed up at this house but he had opinions about all of it. I didn't let him talk me into reno last time but this time...I don’t know...maybe this will be the forever home so…"

"It's gotta be custom!" Nova exclaims.

"Exactly."

"Can I paint my walls custom? Or get custom wallpaper done? I know that a lot of people don't like wallpaper but I've seen a few places that got it right and-"

"Yeah, baby, of course. We'll figure out something awesome for your walls." I kiss her forehead. We'll do whatever she wants for her room.

"Yay!"

I love when she's happy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's been a while since I've been in Dr. McCauliffe's office. Life has been in the way...and I guess I didn’t want her to judge me for my involvement with Jensen...which is ridiculous because she's my therapist. She's not going to judge me.

"So." She taps her pen against her clipboard. "What's new?"

"Well...I have been dating Jensen again. I know you saw that in the news."

"I saw it on Mr. Collins' Instagram, actually," she says with a smile.

"Right. The video. Forgot about it for a minute. Um, yeah, like I said in the video and Jensen said in his...spark's still there, we're giving it another chance."

"How's that feel?"

I bite my bottom lip. "Scary as Hell, honestly. I mean, but it's good. I've done pretty good with boundaries and moving slowly. You know, before...we jumped in head first and everything was this intense passion right out of the gate but this time…" I shrug. "I don't know. Maybe we've grown up, or grown old, but…"

"Have you slept with him?" she asks and it's because she knows that sex was a big issue when I was with him before. Sex was all we were supposed to be in the beginning and sex ruined us in the end. I know why she's asking but there's this...well, it's a bit intrusive, isn't it? It seems like she's judging me for being sexually active and I know that's not what it is but my whole spine goes tense when she asks.

"Yes. We dated for about a month before we started getting physical again."

“And how has that been? I don’t need details, of course, but...emotionally, how has it been to be intimate with Jensen again?”

How to answer that?

Really, how am I supposed to answer that? It’s the best sex I’ve ever had, emotionally fullfilling in a romance-novel sort of way. It’s perfect but it does have its scary moments. “Well, we’ve only actually...slept together a couple times this time. His libido is a lot less than it was. I mean, he didn’t have sex the entire time we were broken up, can you believe that?”

Dr. McCauliffe adjusts her glasses and shrugs a little. “I do not. Five years is a long time to go without sex...but you seem to believe it. That’s what matters.”

I never even questioned it. Should I have? No, because he’s been so honest about everything else. “I went years and years without sex after Nate. I believe Jensen did the same after me. He had a lot going on. He was in recovery for alcoholism. He had to be a good father and work on his career and-”

“You just got very defensive, very quickly. Why is that?”

Fuck, I don’t know. I run my hand over my mouth and shrug. “I don’t know,” I respond honestly.

“Analyze it, Y/n. Why would you get so defensive over my disbelief in what Jensen told you?”

“Because I didn’t question it,” I answer after a moment. “Because he told me that the last time he had sex, real full-penetrative sex, was the time that broke us and I didn’t really question it. I took it at face value because we’ve been doing very good about honesty with each other and what if that’s stupid? What if I’m stupid because maybe he’s lying about it and keeping stuff from me and-”

“You said he’s been very good about honesty so far, right?”

I nod. “Yeah. He’s...he admitted to stuff that I never thought he’d admit to and he apologized for stuff and he’s been open about what happened and why. He’s even been honest about little things that he would have lied about before...like I told him about Will and he Googled him. Used to be, he’d keep that kind of thing to himself, never tell me, but he admitted it without even prompting.” I chew on my bottom lip as she starts scribbling on her notes. “I believe him. It might be stupid but I believe him.”

She sets her clipboard in her lap and smiles at me. “It’s not stupid...and he’s likely changed enough that honesty is important to him. You’ve told me that his recovery has changed him. Jared’s told me the same. Now, it’s a bit hard for me to believe that he’s changed so much in the last five years that he would have abstained from sex since the last time he was with you, but...I don’t know the man, do I? You do. Jared does. If you believe him, then don’t let me change your mind.”

“I believe him. You didn’t see the way he looked at me the first time we...‘Reverent’ is the best word for it.”

“What do you think that means for you?”

I scoot back, leaning against the back of the couch. “I think he’s finally got Danneel out of his head.”

“Do you?” she asks and I hate when she asks things I don’t want to answer. “Danneel was a major roadblock in your relationship before, wasn’t she?”

“You know she was. I was so focused on giving Jensen what he wanted...Danneel...that I couldn’t see that I was what he was supposed to be wanting. I wanted to be like her, couldn’t appreciate myself. I know this stuff, Doctor.” I shift on the couch and sigh. “I don’t wanna be Danneel and I don’t want Jensen to be with her. I want Jensen to be with me...I want him to want to be with only me.” I shrug. “Seems like that’s where we are. He doesn’t even talk to her anymore. I talked to her the other day and she didn’t even know why he doesn’t talk to her anymore.”

“You talked to Danneel again?”

“Yeah. We ran into each other at a shop while I was getting Nova a new dress. It...didn’t go well. Nova was very combative with Danneel. I ended up having to...be very honest with my daughter. She knows about everything now...even the night with Danneel.”

“Oh? How’d that talk go?”

“It was...it was good to get it off my chest, actually. It was like the conversation where I told her about, about why her father and I got divorced. It’s like...It was a hard conversation but it was an important one. I don’t have to...hide things anymore and that’s a blessing. She understands why I make the decisions I make now...she understands...the betrayal was a lot deeper than she even knew. She understands that now and...maybe it’ll make us closer, but at least she knows the truth now.”

“And she’s living with you now, right?” I nod. “How did that happen? Nathan doesn’t seem the type to just allow her to do what she wants.”

I snort. “He’s definitely not, but...he fucked up with Jenny, blew up his marriage. I’m actually surprised it took her this long to realize that he was cheating on her, but whatever. Um...Nova didn’t want to be there for the destruction of his way of life and she asked if she could come to Texas. I convinced him to let her come because she didn’t need to see the parade of his affairs that Jenny would bring up. I then used those women to convince him not to fight me on custody when I refiled. It was…” I scratch at my cheek. “It was a low move, but it’s exactly the kind of move he pulled on me, convincing the judge that I was too unstable to care for her. I don’t feel bad about it, especially since she wants to be here.”

“That’s a big change...on top of other big changes.”

“Yep...and there’s more coming. Because I need more room since Nova is living with me, there will be a new home in my future."

"A new home? That's exciting."

"It is. And I am more excited about it than I am scared so that says something."

"I remember how anxious you were about your first house. I remember all the security options you went through."

"Well, security had to be heavy. I had to think about Tom and his crazy-ass fans and the crazier of Jensen’s fans and the paps. There was that one photographer in Vancouver that climbed the balcony outside the condo to get pics of me and Jay, remember?" I shiver at the memory of looking out the French doors to see a man with his camera, snapping away. So intrusive. "I'm gonna have to put up a privacy fence and a coded gate at the new place, too...and, of course, all the security cameras."

"Sounds like a big project."

"Yeah. Definitely. Not even half of it, though. Misha wants to DIY everything."

"Misha isn't your husband, Y/n," Dr. McCauliffe reminds me and I laugh.

"I think he forgets that sometimes. But there's not a lot of use in arguing with him. He's...well, he's right a lot. Like, most of the time, I mean. So, I always cave to him."

"Do you want to do a big DIY project at this new house?"

"Not at first, I didn't but...I dunno. Might be fun. I've never gotten to do that kind of project and knowing Misha, he's gonna make it fun even if it is hard work."

"Well, as long as you can maintain your work as well as this project. How is that coming along?"

"Really good, actually. We started shooting not too long ago...and I hadn't even considered that this project might be detrimental to Midsummer. I'll have to make sure that Misha knows that Midsummer comes first."

"Well, it seems like you've got things under control."

"Yeah? I was afraid you'd tell me I was...going too fast or…"

"Do you think that? You were telling me that you'd done well with boundaries and keeping things-"

"Well, I have! I mean, Jensen was talking about moving in together already and I shut that down and decided to get a bigger place...my own bigger place."

"Jensen wanted to move in with you?" She writes down something on her notes. "And you said 'no'?"

"I said 'no'," I confirm. "I was really proud of myself, Doc. Nova was proud of me, too, actually. Which was...it was interesting and new. I don’t know that she's ever been proud of me for anything and I know that it's supposed to be the other way, where I'm proud of her and I am, of course but Nova being proud of me setting these boundaries and sticking to them...it gives me hope that she'll be able to do the same in her own life, you know?"

"There's nothing wrong with feeling happy that you made your daughter proud and there's nothing wrong with hoping she's going to make different mistakes than you. She's going to do well in life if you keep making the best choices for the both of you." She sets her clipboard on her desk and smiles. "I'm proud of you, too, by the way. Six years ago, you would have jumped at living with Jensen."

"Six years ago, I did."

We finish out our session with a promise to not go so long without seeing her next time. "Mental health is about the maintenance," she reminds me as she opens her office door and walks me to the reception desk. I agree and set an appointment for six weeks out. I call Misha as I start my car, intending to tell him that Midsummer comes before the house project. I haven't even gotten a 'hello' out of my mouth when he speaks.

"I saw the pictures you sent. I have so many ideas!"

~~~

The Kitchen Sink - @emoryhemsworth @flamencodiva @wasabiwitteks @rainbowkisses31 @rissbennett @mariekoukie6661 @officiallyunofficialperson @dolphincliffs @mrs-meghan-winchester @gayspacenerd @foxyjwls007 @ilovefanfic86 @marvelfansworld @f-yeahfandoms @wonderlandfandomkingdom @hhiggs @sev3nruby @hobby27 @paintballkid711 @divadinag @thewhiterabbit42 @fantasymyth-1 @queenoftheunderdark @cosicas-cuquis @superfanficnatural @letsby @supernatural-bellawinchester @onethirstyunicorn @swinchester27 @chalicia @screechingartisancashbailiff @death-unbecomes-you @dayasvalkyrie @paryl @wereallbrokenangels @the-american-witch @that-one-gay-girl @tatted-trina6 @sunshineandwings86 @lunarmoon8 @wheezyeds @vicmc624 @couldabeenamermaid @vulgar-library

#cassie writes stuff #spn fanfic #spn rpf #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader

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texanredrose · 3 years

Text

Showing Off

Inspired by prompts submitted to @unsteadyshade on tumblr (here), that I reblogged earlier, or AO3 (here). Also, yes, I'm very much American but I decided to use the non-American lingo in regards to soccer here. Don't look at me expecting logic, my friends, I just do what the winds of whimsy tell me.

---

Blake pulled the hotel door shut behind her, following after her teammate and best friend who was further down the hall and carrying their tote bags. While she didn’t hold the same superstitious beliefs, Yang swore up and down they’d lose unless they brought along their ‘lucky’ practice ball; after going back to retrieve it, the woman seemed satisfied and started walking towards the elevator while Blake caught up. “This is ridiculous, you know that right?”

“Hey, don’t sass me; we’ve never lost a road game when we’ve had the ball,” Yang said, already wearing her keeper jersey, the material stretched a bit thin over her muscled frame. It had seen better days but, much like the ball, the woman refused to replace it, especially during their run up to the championship. “A little extra luck can’t hurt anyone. Except the other team, I guess.”

“It can make us late, though,” she said, one of her ears flicking back as one of the doors they passed opened and closed- had to be other patrons of the hotel, seeing as the rest of their team was already downstairs by the bus. “Which would mean we forfeit.”

“We’re not running that late,” Yang replied, throwing a grin her way. Then, lilac eyes were drawn behind them and lingered a moment before her lips pulled into a very specific smirk. Blake knew that smirk- it was the ‘oh, I’ve got an idea, you might not like it but you’re gonna do it’ expression, because aside from being one of the best keepers in the region, Yang Xiao Long was also ridiculously persuasive. Dangerously so, in fact. “Hey. Toss me the ball.”

“Your hands are full.”

“Wasn’t going to use my hands.”

Blake narrowed her eyes, vividly remembering the last time someone tried doing agility drills down a hotel hallway, and picked up on the subtle look behind them. After a few more steps, she turned to say something about the game to Yang as an excuse to glance behind them. And then, it all made sense.

A bit further down the hallway were two women, both of whom were dressed in sharp business attire, and the moment Blake returned her attention to Yang, she pointed at herself and mouthed the word ‘tall’ with a wink.

“C’mon, toss me the ball,” Yang said, coming to a stop.

Blake glanced at her watch and, although a touch reluctant, decided they had enough time for a little demonstration. Tossing the ball towards Yang, she stepped back to lean against the wall while the woman started juggling while still carrying both totes. With her best friend as a distraction, Blake could take a longer look at the women Yang was trying to impress, and realized a few things, chiefly: they weren’t just any business women following behind them.

They were the Schnee sisters.

Atlesian elites, borderline nobility, some of the richest and most powerful people in the world; the Schnee sisters were in the news for one reason or another practically every day. Blake was more familiar with the attitude and mentality of the younger sister, Weiss Schnee, because it was her actions that Blake, as a faunus, found most… interesting. All the way up until she assumed control of her family’s company, the woman didn’t seem much at odds with the stuffy, bigoted, narrow minded people found in her social circle. After, though, she not only did an unapologetic one-eighty in the other direction, she became so aggressively progressive that it created a wide schism in the highest echelons of Atlesian society. More than once, she’d deployed the surprisingly well equipped private SDC security forces to protect protestors from Atlesian police and military personnel, and paid an exorbitant amount of money to keep those protestors out of jail, either by paying off bonds or hiring attorneys. In a relatively short amount of time, she’d become a juggernaut for social changes, and the careful monopoly her scheming father had built became the ultimate tool for exacting those changes.

Blake could admire the woman’s sense of justice as well as her commitment to it.

The elder, though, she only knew by name. Winter Schnee stood on her sister’s side when it came to social issues and did something tangentially related to the SDC but, beyond that, the details were a blur. She’d never heard Yang mention either sister in anything more than a passing comment while they pursued the news together waiting for flights, certainly nothing she could recall that would explain why the woman wanted Winter’s attention specifically. However, it also wasn’t out of the ordinary for Yang to show off a bit for pretty ladies when presented the opportunity.

By the time Blake had made a decision herself, Yang had run through every trick she knew and had popped the ball up to balance on her chest. She motioned for the woman to pass the ball, which earned her a raised brow at first before lilac eyes twinkled and she popped her shoulders back to set the ball in motion.

Blake caught it before it hit the ground with her foot, stalling the ball’s momentum entirely for a moment before she began juggling herself. For her, it was less a skill she’d developed for showing off as one of honing control of her body and the ball, but she knew a few tricks, moving slightly away from the wall so she could juggle the ball in a circle around her while still facing Yang. It meant juggling with her heel behind her back briefly but she managed it without losing control and that prompted a low murmur from their audience. Impressively, she couldn’t make out the words, which made her think the speaker specifically didn’t want her to hear.

After transitioning between using her feet and knees, the faunus popped the ball up high enough for her head to get under it, her feline ears laying flat against her skull to prove she wasn’t using them to help her balance the ball in place, which earned a brief chuckle from Yang. Then, she began bouncing it atop her head while moving her head just so to get the ball rotating before allowing it to roll off her head so she could catch it with her foot.

With a glance to confirm Yang was prepared, Blake passed her the ball, and the two of them traded it for a while, trying to catch the other off guard to make the eventual save and pass even more impressive. It was a show of control and dexterity and, had they planned it, would’ve had a better end to the display. Unfortunately, a short pass from Yang resulted in both of them trying to save it, which sent the ball bouncing harmlessly down the hall until it came to a stop at Winter’s feet.

Then again, given the glint in Yang’s eye, perhaps that was her intention. “Oh, sorry about that. We’re just… warming up.”

With a jerk of her head, the faunus realized her friend was requesting some back-up. “Yes, we, uh… are on our way to a game. The semi-finals, actually.”

“We can probably get ya seats, if you want.” A nonchalant shrug. “You should come watch us play.”

The sisters exchanged a look then. The elder, questioning, and the younger… Blake couldn’t put a word to that look. It was equal parts goading and secretive, and perhaps something else dancing in blue eyes. She would need a lot more time to decipher that look.

And she found herself wanting it.

Then, without a word, Winter put her foot on top of the ball and rolled it back, popped it up, and… began juggling with just as much precision as they’d displayed. Except, unlike them- bedecked in jerseys, loose shorts, and tennis shoes- she was doing it in a form fitting pants suit and dress shoes, hampering her mobility somewhat though it hardly impacted her performance, executing all the tricks Yang had done. Then, she passed it to her sister, who, in high heels and a skirt, proceeded to do the same, keeping many of the tricks low so her skirt wouldn’t ride up. Which, of course, meant she had less room to manipulate the ball, had to move faster to get into position to execute each trick, and when she did a version of Blake’s around the world one, the faunus felt her mouth pop open in astonishment.

Once satisfied, Weiss passed the ball back to her sister, who caught it one handed.

“We appreciate the invitation. However...” Winter tossed the ball, hard enough that it hit Yang’s chest before the keeper thought to catch it. “We unfortunately have a prior engagement that requires our attention.”

The sisters began walking past the gobsmacked footballers and Blake didn’t miss the look Weiss directed her way as she spoke. “After you’ve won your game, perhaps you’ll join us in the hotel’s hot tub?”

Blake didn’t notice how close they were to their floor’s elevator until Winter reached over and pushed the button to call a car. “Unless, of course, you have your own post victory traditions that take precedence.”

Yang just shook her head while Blake managed to find her voice. “No. We don’t. Have traditions, I mean.”

“Excellent,” Weiss said, stepping into the car the moment the doors twanged open and hitting a button inside, smiling in a way that… well… Blake would call it seductive in another setting and found herself hard pressed not to call it that now. “We’ll see you there. Don’t be late.”

When the doors closed, both Blake and Yang were left standing in the hallway, both just… recovering from how mentally unprepared they were for their tricks to be used against them to great effect. After another moment, Yang turned to look at her, holding up the ball.

“Lucky. Ball.”

Blake resolved to not argue that point and instead focus on winning the game, ushering her teammate towards the stairs rather than waiting for the next car.

---

Weiss leaned back against the wall of the elevator. While they’d chosen to book this particular hotel for their business trip specifically because their favorite football team would be staying there, and they’d opted to not use the penthouse suite because they wanted a chance to catch glimpses of the team while going to and from meetings, neither expected to meet their personal favorite players in the hallway like that. Weiss had followed Blake’s career since college and, while responsibilities had prevented her from attending as many games as she would’ve liked, she always recorded them and watched them later. Up until the encounter in the hallway, that was how she and Winter had planned to spend their evening.

Now, though…

“Would it be inappropriate for me to bring her jersey to the hot tub in the hopes she’ll sign it?”

Winter made a considering noise. “Bring the jersey, leave a suitable pen in the room.”

“How would that accomplish her signing it?”

“Invite her back to the room.” Her elder sister smiled, and a twinkle in her eyes spoke to the crude humor of a former soldier. “I’ll be… elsewhere tonight.”

“Spare me the details,” she replied as they reached the ground floor. “... but thank you for the idea.”

As a general rule, Weiss was never overly fond of business meetings, but she found herself looking forward to the end of this one more than usual, if only to see where the night led.

---

Blake pushed out a nervous breath as she and Yang made their way towards the hotel’s pool area. The game itself ended in a shootout and while Blake had made the final goal that secured them a berth to the finals, she couldn’t relax quite yet. Post game celebrations usually involved Blake joining the rest of the team for a glass of champagne or a toast of some sort before the others prepared for a night on the town to celebrate the win. Most of the time, Yang went with them, leaving the faunus plenty of time to wind down with a book of her choice and a peacefully quiet hotel room. Even on the odd occurrence when Yang didn’t join the others, the blonde still found other ways of occupying herself that preserved Blake’s quiet.

So, rushing back to the hotel room to change into their swimwear before the hotel shut down their pool was a major break from their normal routine, and knowing they’d be going to meet two very beautiful and apparently incredibly talented women… well, she was just a touch nervous.

Unfortunately, her best friend didn’t share that anxiety.

“One piece or bikini?”

“What?”

“Which do you think they’re wearing?” The blonde shrugged, the tips of her hair brushing the back of her neck. Normally, Yang wore her hair down or in a thick braid for games, but seeing as she didn’t have the energy to deal with drying her hair again after the quick post game shower they’d rushed through. “I’m hoping Winter’s wearing a bikini or a two piece. She’s gotta have some abs, right?”

“You have an eight pack; what does it matter to you if she has abs?”

“It’s about the commitment.” With a smirk, she gestured towards her own abs, prominently on display thanks to her yellow bikini top. Along with a darkening bruise around her left eye, there were bruises along her ribs from a few sliding tackles that had almost sidelined the keeper entirely, but Yang was a bit tougher than their opponents expected. “It takes work to get these and keep ‘em.”

“And what’s the point of wearing a bikini top if you’re just going to wear swim trunks for bottoms?” She arched a brow, more comfortable poking holes in her best friend’s thought process than confronting reality as they neared their destination. While she, too, opted for bikini style swimwear, Blake had chosen a black top with matching bottoms and a light purple sarong around her hips. She might claim to be somewhat modest in comparison, but she was showing a bit more skin- which, rationally, she could justify because they were getting in a hot tub, not attending a gala, showing a bit of skin should be expected-

Blake shook her head, trying to calm her anxiety again.

“Gotta make her work for the goods,” Yang replied, either oblivious to or pointedly ignoring her nerves. Then again, perhaps she had a few of her own that she was hiding, considering the way she reached up to fiddle with her hair. “Besides, my bottoms always ride up. Trunks are more comfortable. Not all of us have an ass that won’t quit.”

“Not judging, I just think it’s… silly. To focus on what they’ll be wearing.”

“What else is there to think about?”

“How hard we’re going to flirt.” She pointed out, tilting her head thoughtfully. “What to say, how to say it… what result we’re hoping for.”

“Don’t overthink it, Blakey.” A laugh. “Let’s just have some fun.”

They came to a set of glass double doors that granted entry to the pool area of the hotel… at which point they realized the pool officially closed half an hour ago. Yang cursed under her breath as Blake’s shoulders slumped. They’d missed their chance, it seemed.

“Oh, Miss Belladonna? Miss Xiao Long?”

“That’s us,” Yang replied as a hotel employee approached them, already grabbing a key card attached to his lanyard and holding it up to a sensor beside the doors.

“Here. Both Miss Schnees are waiting for you.”

The footballers exchanged a look, surprised by the special treatment. True, they were quasi celebrities themselves, but this hotel handled all teams from the league, which meant they weren’t any more famous than the average patron. Then again, the Schnee sisters had quite a bit more clout than they did and could probably swing something like being given unfettered access to the pool area.

With a shrug and a smirk, Yang opened one door and they entered, spotting the sisters sitting in chairs beside the hot tub. Both were reading magazines, with fresh drinks on a table between them, and were… well… Blake found she couldn’t immediately discern their taste in swimwear because both sisters were wearing football jerseys. And not just any jerseys.

“I see you took us up on our offer,” Weiss said, getting to her feet and motioning towards the hot tub before reaching for the hem of the jersey to pull it off. At a glance, Blake could tell it was the special limited edition run from a few years ago, and her number no less. And while she would be sorely tempted to assume the woman had found one last minute, the careful way Weiss placed the jersey on the chair- not dropped or thrown carelessly- made her think otherwise. Only then did she notice the woman had opted for a light blue one piece with a single strap, leaving her upper back mostly exposed. “Splendid.”

“Congratulations on your win.” Winter also set aside her magazine and stood up, revealing she was wearing Yang’s limited edition jersey, and she took the same amount of care in removing it and setting it aside. Much to her friend’s delight, the elder of the sisters did wear a bikini of a darker blue and also sported some abs, though they lacked the definition of Yang’s. “A hard fought victory like that certainly deserves a celebration.”

As the sisters entered the hot tub, Blake looked over to Yang, who seemed equal parts excited and… intimidated- and that second one was hard. But what intimidated her ultimately evolved into a challenge and Yang never backed down from a challenge. For her part, the faunus just found herself wondering if, perhaps, they had a different idea of who needed to impress who than the sisters did.

Removing her sarong, Blake tossed it onto the chair Weiss had used and went to the hot tub, noting how the sisters had chosen to sit across from each other. She hesitated in entering, if only because she didn’t want to be too forward. Yang, of course, took the seating as a goading taunt of sorts, and settled herself in the tub hardly an arm’s length away from Winter. Probably closer than would be considered polite but neither seemed uncomfortable or surprised by the decision, so Blake opted to test the waters herself, sitting approximately the same distance away from Weiss but also across from Yang.

Almost instantly, she let out a sigh of relief; while focusing on getting to the hot tub, she’d done her best to ignore the lingering aches and pains from the game. Now, though, she could feel herself relaxing as the warmth began sinking into her muscles. Usually, she just focused on stretches before bed and had a tub of balm if that failed.

“Should probably do this more often,” Yang said, obviously relaxing herself. “Forgot how good hot tubs feel after a rough game.”

“Speaking of that, did you get checked out?” Winter gestured towards her eye. “You took a few nasty hits. I’m surprised seventeen didn’t get thrown out of the game.”

“The Vipers always play hard.” The blonde tried to shrug off the concern. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“You took a few shots, too.” Weiss pointed out. “How’s your knee?”

“I’ve taken worse falls.” She gave a wry smile. “But I’m beginning to suspect you know that.”

“I’ll admit I’ve been a fan of yours since your college days.” The woman shrugged one shoulder, feigning nonchalance- and Blake only suspected it was a show because blue eyes didn’t meet hers as she spoke. “I hardly think that is remarkable. You’re one of the best strikers the league has ever seen.”

“Did you ever consider playing?” At the curious look she received, Blake inclined her head. “It took me years to develop those tricks, and you did them better. That speaks to a remarkable amount of skill.”

“Well, I’ll admit I entertained the idea a time or two. Ultimately, I chose my path, and it didn’t leave enough room to become a superstar footballer.” She shook her head. “I don’t regret it but, I suppose, part of the reason I practice those little tricks to keep the dream alive.”

Her ears perked up, catching something between the lines. “Part of the reason? What’s the other part?”

“Why, to catch your eye, of course.”

“My eye?” She couldn’t help the surprised chuckle that bubbled up from her chest. “You’re Weiss Schnee; you don’t really need to try to catch anyone’s attention.”

The woman’s expression faltered then. “Yes, well… unfortunately, the sort of attention I garner on my own is markedly less… impressive, by some standards.”

“I’d think those people have poor standards, then,” she said, opting to tip her hand as well. “You’ve managed to galvanize social changes that have taken some kingdoms entire decades in a matter of years. Comparatively, bouncing a ball’s hardly anything. Don’t you think?”

At that Weiss laughed, a bright, high, unrestrained sound that Blake rather liked hearing. “If I thought that, I wouldn’t be trying so hard to impress you, now would I? And you shouldn’t discount your own efforts outside the pitch.”

The faunus felt her lips quirk up in amusement. They’d been watching each other from afar all this time; the only thing she didn’t account for was the magnetic attraction that being in the woman’s presence seemed to engender. And, as she made an excuse of stretching to cover her moving slightly closer to Weiss, it seemed she wasn’t the only one feeling it. The woman, mysteriously, decided to move and dip her shoulders beneath the water’s surface long enough to bring out a lovely light pink blush to her skin, and when she sat back against the tub’s wall, she was a bit closer to Blake.

Surreptitiously, she snuck a glance towards Yang, if only to gauge how much teasing she would be in for on the flight back home the following day. She quickly realized her best friend wouldn’t have a leg to stand on when it came to teasing; somehow, Winter had coaxed Yang into her lap and was apparently giving the footballer a message. For her part, Yang seemed to be in a luxurious sort of heaven, eyes half lidded and with a silly sort of smile on her lips.

“Forgive my sister,” Weiss said, a sardonic smile on her lips. “I’m impressed she’s shown this much restraint.”

“I can hear you,” the woman replied, blue eyes flashing towards her younger sister. “But that can be remedied. Yang?”

“Hmmm?”

“I think this would work better if you were lying down.”

Lilac eyes widened as the woman tilted her head, glancing over towards Blake. With a small nod, the faunus made the silent agreement to avoid their hotel room for a few hours. Frankly, Yang had slept in a few lobbies over the years, when she’d returned too drunk to be quiet and not wanting to risk waking the faunus. She could spend a night elsewhere to return the favor.

“Yeah… I think you’re right.”

As the two got out of the hot tub and retrieved towels, Blake returned her attention to the woman beside her. “You don’t have to try, you know.”

“Pardon?”

“Impressing me. You don’t have to try.” Blake tilted her head, leaning back to brace her arms against the rim of the hot tub. “I think that’s the part I don’t like about being with the league. The mandatory press conferences and the rules- sometimes, I just want to get straight on the bus after a game and go back to reading my book, not sit and play twenty questions for an hour. It’s like… wearing an ill fitting mask.”

“You handle them remarkably well.” Weiss smirked. “But I suppose I say that because I speak my mind a bit too bluntly during press conferences. I admire your restraint.”

“I admire your candor,” she replied, very carefully laying one arm along the tub’s rim behind the woman. “I really liked the interview you did with the Atlas Economist. It looked like you were going to give that guy an aneurysm.”

“That would’ve been impossible.” A light chuckle as she moved closer, lowering her voice ever so slightly to coax Blake into leaning closer. “He would need a brain first.”

They both laughed, using their amusement to hide their shifting movements until Weiss was pressed into her side ever so slightly. They continued talking and laughing quietly until sitting in the hot tub started becoming uncomfortable. However, the faunus did her best to ignore it simply because she didn’t want to part ways quite yet. Weiss was… a lot of things- emphatic, sharp tongued, witty- but above all good company that Blake wasn’t keen on losing quite yet. However, she couldn’t ignore that the heat of the tub was taking a toll on them both.

“Your skin’s turning red,” she said, running a thumb over the ball of Weiss’ shoulder. “We should probably get out.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

They both stood and exited the hot tub, grabbing towels to start drying themselves off. While doing that, she wracked her brain for some excuse to continue their conversation but found herself coming up woefully empty. Every suggestion she could come up with either sounded ridiculous or… risque. It wasn’t like she could simply invite the woman back to her hotel room for some tea.

“Thank you for the invite, by the way,” she said, trying to buy herself some time. “A good soak after a tough game feels… fantastic. I don’t often indulge.”

Blue eyes lit up as the woman wrapped a towel around her hips. “I’m more than glad you accepted. However, if you wish to… pay me back… I’ve been meaning to ask for your autograph.”

Blake raised a brow. The request seemed… deceptively innocent, especially with the way Weiss was looking at her. “I can do that. You want me to sign your jersey?”

“If it isn’t too much trouble.” The barest moment of silence, and then she tilted her head. “Unfortunately, the only pen I have is in my room.”

Blake took a step closer, pleased to see she actually stood a few inches taller than the woman when she wasn’t wearing heels, and lowered her voice. “Well… I suppose we’ll have to go to your room, then.” A pause. “And, maybe, we’ll think of something else I can sign along the way.”

Weiss smiled and donned the jersey, setting her hand in the crook of the faunus’ elbow. “Perhaps. Do you have any ideas?”

“I do.” As they started walking, she chuckled. “But I wouldn’t want to use a pen to sign something so… delicate.”

The woman hummed, pointedly looking at her mouth. “I believe I know of something else you can use.”

While outwardly Blake merely smiled a bit wider, internally she asked herself a question: just how far was she willing to go?

Before they reached the elevator, she’d decided that if she wasn’t officially dating Weiss Schnee by the time she boarded the plane tomorrow, she’d be disappointed in herself.

---

Weiss stretched luxuriously in her bed as the morning rays streamed in through the window. She was sore in places she’d forgotten existed- but the pleasant type of sore, the kind that eventually turned into an itch for more, and it took conscious effort not to reach for her scroll just then. It would probably do her well to show some restraint.

That mentality lasted all of thirty seconds before her scroll was in hand and she was admiring her new background picture, taken just before Blake put on her swimwear from the night before and left to return to her room. Nothing terribly suggestive or revealing, of course, just the faunus resting her chin on Weiss shoulder. An ordinary selfie. With her new girlfriend.

She couldn’t help the smile curling her lips.

The door opened and she looked over her shoulder, watching her sister strut into the room wearing her bikini with her usual air of complete and total confidence. Her jersey was held in one hand. Probably because she wanted to… show off. “You walked down the hallway like that?”

“Of course,” Winter replied, not even batting an eye at the words ‘Property of Yang Xiao Long’ written in marker across her chest and abdomen. “I’m pleased with the outcome.”

Then, a smirk.

“Please, don’t elaborate.”

“I won’t but I do hope you were as successful as I was.”

She glanced at her scroll as a message came through from Blake, a smile coming to her lips. “Indeed I was.”

Who knew giving in to her impulse to show off would have such wonderful results.

#Monochrome #Elderburn

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therenlover · 3 years

Note

can we get some modern hux as a boyfriend headcanons

You know what? Yes, you can anon! (I need to put down some inspo for a requested fic anyway, so here goes nothing!)

Modern! AU Armitage Hux Boyfriend Headcanons

18+ headcanons will be marked with a line towards the end!

WARNINGS: Mentions of childhood abuse (aka Brendol Hux’s A+ Parenting)

First of all, Armitage works somewhere pretty high profile. I like to lean towards it being a pretty generic big office where they do nondescript business things and make lots of money, but I’ve considered that he’d be great working at a law firm too.

He’s also a workaholic

This means he’s busy like... always.

You want to grab lunch? Sorry, there's a huge meeting with the higher-ups that day and he needs to get a raise before Pryde does. You want to take a weekend trip? Well too bad because a big case is coming up and he needs to be in the office until 8pm every day.

That being said, if you ever brought it up to him that he spent more time pulling extra hours at the office than with you, he would be more than a little mortified and do his best to try to balance things a little more evenly, even if it meant losing a promotion to Ben “Nepotism” Solo because losing you would be so much worse.

Speaking of which, you’d also have to get to know his only 3 friends- his bestie Phasma, his work frenemy Ben, and his assistant Mitaka- pretty well because they tend to show up uninvited at random times.

A lot of the time you spend together with ‘Tidge (his nickname, because he hates it less than Armie and saying Armitage 20 times a day can be a real mouthful) is at his big-ass apartment. Date nights on the town are lovely every once in a while, but Hux doesn’t exactly know how to act like a normal person in public,

Before moving in with him, you’d just drop by after work every day and spend some time with Millicent while waiting for him to get home. Once you do live there you’d pretty much do the exact same only in your pajamas.

He likes to know that, once he gets home from the insane stress of work, his two favorite things are sitting there waiting for him.

Hux outside the privacy of his own home is, to put it kindly, a man who constantly acts like he has a stick up his ass. When he’s home with you though? Completely different dude.

Lots of kisses and affection are MUSTS for him because, after his childhood, he craves a lot of physical affection and he only trusts you to give it to him. It’s all in private, though, because he’s uncomfortable with the idea of being seen as weak

The two of you have a lot of little rituals around the house that make him feel more secure.

Like every day he sits on the floor between your legs while you sit on the couch and brush the gel out of his hair. It takes about 15 minutes and you both just sit and talk about your days. He loves the feeling on your hands running through his hair after a long day. It makes even the worst days bearable when he knows he has that to come home to.

Armitage also loves to cook dinner for you.

You always try to insist that he’s worked late so you could do it, or you could just order in, but he loves to cook for you and thinks it’s a great way to show his affection. Surprisingly, he’s a pretty great chef.

If you ever met his father, which Hux would try to prevent with literally all his might, it would probably go very, very poorly, because the second Brendol made some asshole remark about your boyfriend being less-than-enough you’d defend him.

And the second Brendol started getting on you about anything, Hux would just beat the shit out of him. Because it’s one thing for his father to ridicule him in front of people, but you? No way.

He refuses to let anyone make you feel the way his father made him feel, even if it means standing up to him for the first time.

Also, Armitage is rich. Like, old-money rich. And even if his dad tried to get him cut off from the fund his mother put in place for him during the divorce, he makes enough money at his job that it doesn’t really matter.

Basically, expect ridiculously expensive gifts.

If you don’t like gifts or don’t want him to ‘waste money’ on you (which would never be the case, but he wants you to be happy) he’ll spend the money on things you both enjoy instead, like really good ingredients for dinner or a new mattress made exactly the way you need it to fic your back pain.

--------- 18+ from this point on! ---------

Armitage isn’t very confident in bed, but he makes up for that with enthusiasm and pure skill.

It’s more comfortable for him to be on top. He likes to feel like he’s always in control of the situation because it’s already kinda weird for him to be so vulnerable and exposed. That being said he trusts you more than anybody else. If being on top is what you want then he’ll try it.

Even when it comes to getting pegged/fucked, he’d be open to it, but only if you were the one doing it. (he’d probably be a crier as a sub tho, fair warning)

He tends to get self-conscious when it comes to his scars, they’re a reminder of his ‘failure’ in the eyes of his father, but some nights when you make love you kiss them and tell him all the things you love about him to try to give him something else to think about when he sees them.

‘Tidge LOVES giving head

You never would have guessed it, he does seem like the kind of guy who will take what he wants to chase his own release, but he really just likes making you feel as good as possible at all times.

Hux tends to cum second. His whole goal is to make you feel as good as possible and that usually means taking care of your needs before his, but even when he neglects himself you take care of him (in the bedroom and outside of it)

Both at home and at work he wears a lot of suits, so if a sharp-dressed man is a turn-on for you, congratulations.

He tends not to go for quickies, they’re too reminiscent of work to him where the idea is to do as much as possible in a short amount of time, but sometimes if you show up at the office with flowers or lunch he’ll take you in his office.

Finally, he has surprising stamina.

No, like... surprising.

For someone who looks like a fucking twig and works in an office all day, he can absolutely keep up with whatever you throw at him.

--------

a/n: whew! This was like a writing warm-up before a marathon! I know Hux is definitely not the main bitch I post about on this blog, but he was my first love. Technically, even my username is paying homage to him (and Kylo, who I love dearly but cannot stand a lot of the time lol) I loved returning to my roots for this one. Thanks for the request anon!

TAGLIST: @tatestripedsweater , @elaineygrace, @multiyfandomgirl40 , @another-emotional-wreck , @lovelymischief

#hux #armitage hux #armitage hux x reader #hux x reader #star wars #brendol hux's A+ parenting #headcanon

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ladynestaarcheron · 3 years

Text

Fears All the Way Down - Chapter Three

ao3 - masterpost

happy friday! here's chapter three, a little long, and dramatiqué so enjoy:)

canon fixes this week: 1) gwyn mentions the priestess who counsels them. nesta was never offered counseling. bullshit. 2) gwyn says they never talk about each other because they've all been through a lot. mm. okay. i went to a girls' school. you don't just not talk about anyone because they've been through a lot. it doesn't have to be cruel gossip, but you definitely still talk. and if someone is a bitch to you, then yeah, it's gossip.

---

When Nesta had first been brought into Prythian, right here into the House of Wind, she had often thought to herself that her life could not possibly get any worse. She was a faerie now, a monster, and Elain was wasting away before her eyes, and Feyre was off to no-one-would-tell-her-where doing no-one-would-tell-her-what. And every other day, Cassian would come by and interrupt her fear and anxiety to irritate her beyond belief.

‍And then the war happened, and the impossible happened. Her life did get worse.

‍And now she is here again, and it is...different. Sometimes worse. Sometimes better. Sometimes neither. But it's different this time.

‍This time, she doesn't have to be worried about her sisters. They're the ones who are worried about her. She isn't scared of her own reflection anymore--not comfortable in this immortal skin, but used to it nonetheless. And most striking...Cassian doesn't seek her out.

‍He doesn't sit with her for breakfast, though the healer, Daphne does come up every morning to check up on her (unnecessary. She is miserable and in pain, but stable). She hears him during the day, making rounds around the House, or doing something up on the roof, but she doesn't see him while the sun is out. He meets her once for dinner, to watch her take her mock liquor, and then once again when she hurls out her insides in the middle of the night.

‍And then the week is over, and he is gone.

‍Feyre is there to greet her for breakfast.

‍"I hear you slept the night!" she says, enthusiastic.

‍Nesta doesn't answer.

‍"You've detoxed," Feyre says. "I...I'm really proud of you. I know that was a long five days. Elain's proud of you, too. She sends her love."

‍Nesta nods slightly. She sits down at her usual spot at the head of the table, the chair dragging itself out to meet her.

‍Feyre notices. "Kind of creepy, isn't it? The magic all on its own?"

‍"I don't mind it," Nesta says.

‍On the contrary. The first morning she had awoken here, she had desperately wanted to bathe. But she stumbled into the bathroom and her body had seized up as she imagined herself sinking in the tub. Sinking...drowning...getting pulled under and never getting out. Perhaps it was being back here, but she had asked the House for some buckets, and reverted to her old practice of washing herself.

‍She had fully intended to accept her fate, coming to terms with the fact that while she was in the House, forcing herself to sit in the tub would be far too difficult, and she'd have to suffer through being covered in her own sick for a week, but on the second morning, the House had gifted her with an out.

‍The tub, ridiculously wide and deep--to accommodate wings, she realizes now--was still there, but hanging from the ceiling, almost like a chandelier, was a faucet. The House had turned on the water for her; she hadn't known what it was. The water came out like rain, with dozens of tiny streams instead of one the size of a fist, like in the bath. And she could...stand under it.

‍Nesta still isn't quite sure how much the House can hear, or if it cares. But she takes extra care to say please and thank you now, for things she wouldn't have bothered before.

‍"Well, at any rate," Feyre says, pulling her back to the present. "You'll be starting at the library today. Are you ready?"

‍Nesta shrugs.

‍"Do you want me to walk you down?"

‍No. Maybe. No. "Do...are girls normally escorted in?" she asks carefully.

‍"No," Feyre admits. "Normally...they're just brought here right after...but it's allowed. I mean, whatever's more comfortable for you."

‍She doesn't know what to say, so she deflects. "Did Elain not want to escort me?"

‍"She just didn't want to come by until you specifically asked for her."

‍"Why did you come, then?" She's blunt, but she only realizes how it sounds until after it comes out. She isn't trying to be cruel, though.

‍Feyre doesn't bristle. "I wanted to see you. And update you on the Illyrian situation."

‍"The rebels?"

‍"They're doing a good job of keeping their meetings secret," Feyre admits. "But don't worry. We're better."

‍"I'm not worried," Nesta says, and she honestly means it. She remembers the war well. Remembers Cassian's skill, precision, deadliness...no one compares. If he's defending her, there's no cause for concern. Except him, of course. "What is it?"

‍"They know you're at the House." Their spies in Velaris had probably noticed Cassian flying about, had marked Elain moving her things out of her apartment in the city...Nesta isn't scared of any Illyrians tracking her down while she's here, but the idea of some wretch skulking after her sisters in the dark....

‍Feyre continues, "And we do know they want to make a move. But they can't, Nesta. I promise you're safe here."

‍Nesta keeps her voice impassive, almost bored, when she says, "He's gone, though?"

‍Feyre knows whom she means. "Cassian? Well, we're still keeping the House secure...you might hear him or Rhys or Az checking the wards a few times a day, but that's it. No one in the House any longer. Just as you'd prefer it."

‍Nesta blinks. She hadn't realized this threat was real enough to warrant the three of them visiting the House multiple times a day. Perhaps...perhaps there is reason to worry. Or fear.

‍Because she certainly will be afraid...if it happens like last time. Strange faerie males breaking down her door, ripping her out of bed. By her hair, by her arms. Grabbing at her, pinching her. Elain screaming from her room down the hall.

‍"So, you'll go down yourself, then?" Feyre asks, dragging her back to the present.

‍Nesta blinks again, shoving that horrible night out of her mind. "Yes," she says, and because she doesn't want to give herself another moment to slide into that place again, rises to do just that.

Feyre had escorted her down to these doors once before, and they had descended the levels to find Hybern. This time, she is alone, and there are two priestesses waiting for her when she enters.

‍One clearly defers to the other, and she stands behind her. Her hood is set atop her head, and her brown face is pretty aside from some light scarring on either cheek. She smiles and says, "Welcome, Nesta."

‍Nesta cannot tell if the higher priestess smiles or not, for her hood covers her face. But truth be told, even if she were entirely naked, Nesta would only look at her hands, for they are wrecked beyond comprehension. Fingers at wrong angles and parts missing and--

‍"Hello," Nesta blurts out, because it's the only thing she can think to say and she doesn't want to stare. She hates when people stare at her. Her cheeks flame; she's not cut out for this. She can't be around these females.

‍The high priestess lifts her head slightly, enough for Nesta to see that she is, indeed, smiling. A parchment and fountain pen--and quite a good-quality one, she notes--appear out of thin air, making her jump slightly, and in a neat script write out:

‍Welcome, Nesta. I am Clotho, high priestess of the library. This is Thalia, one of our senior priestesses. She'll be showing you the library today. I hope you find it to your liking. I'll see you later today.

‍"Oh," Nesta says, not quite knowing what to reply. "Thank you," she adds, figuring that's as good as anything.

‍Clotho raises her head once more to offer her another smile and then sweeps away, parchment and pen disappearing after her.

‍"Shall we begin our tour, then, Nesta?" Thalia asks. She waits for Nesta to nod before beginning her descent down the spiralling levels of the library.

‍Thalia explains about the different sections of the library, and points out different offices for the other senior priestesses and what their specialties are. They meet some females here and there, and she introduces them, but luckily no one sticks around for a chat. Already Nesta can feel her pulse quickening, sick at the idea of having to be with all these people all the time. She is immensely grateful for her sisters for keeping her alone in the House during the nights, at least.

‍When they reach the fifth level, Nesta stops in her tracks. Thalia looks at her, patient and unhurried.

‍"Is it--back?" Nesta asks, unable to keep the fear out of her voice.

‍Thalia smiles. "Bryaxis has never harmed any of us and is no cause for alarm," she says gently. "But no, it is not returned."

‍No cause for alarm? Cassian was scared of that thing.

‍But if it's not here...fine.

‍"Where's your office?" Nesta says, grasping for a subject so she doesn't have to see the look on Cassian's face when he found her running out of the library in her mind's eye.

‍"Level six," she replies. "Come, let's go there now."

‍Thalia's office is clearly very separate from the library, as it has the least amount of books of any room here. Which is still substantially more than what Nesta guesses the average room in Velaris has, with one wall made up of fully stacked floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and some on the desk in the corner and one on the coffee table in the small sitting area.

‍"Come sit, please, Nesta," Thalia says, choosing a couch for herself. "Well,"she says, when Nesta is settled in an armchair, "what are your first impressions of the library?"

‍"I've been here before."

‍Thalia smiles. "So you have. But you're a bit better informed on our particular brand this time around, aren't you?"

‍Nesta nods.

‍"Well, allow me to explain further. I am the priestess who counsels the females who choose to join us."

‍"Counseling?" she repeats, her heart speeding up. So she's supposed to just tell this female everything about herself? Is that what her sisters expect her to do?

‍"I know that's a loaded word, but I promise it isn't as scary as it sounds."

‍How can she be so cavalier about this? All smiles and twinkling eyes.

‍"We can have sessions as often or as rarely as you'd please. If you'd like, you never have to come to another meeting with me again after this, or any of the classes or sessions my colleagues direct. Except, of course, for our weekly check-in."

‍"What's the weekly check-in?" Nesta asks, because the priestess won't say anything otherwise.

‍"We do one mandatory group session a week where we all check-in with each other. Everyone attends. No one has to speak, but we all attend."

‍All right. Fine. She can do that. Sitting in a room one a week, silent. Listening to other miserable girls talk about their problems.

‍Could be worse, she tries to tell herself.

‍"So what exactly...does life at the library entail?"

‍"Our institution exists for the purpose of preserving and furthering knowledge on every topic we can get our hands on," Thalia says, "but we also serve to help females heal from various traumas. Because everyone is different, there's no one correct way to go about this journey. But a very broad number of sessions and exercises are available to you, and you are welcome and encouraged to try any of them. In addition to these, you will also be invited to work in the library. First you can start with menial tasks, and when you've got your bearings you can be given a more specific assignment.

‍"But the real question, Nesta," the priestess continues, and Nesta startles when she breaks her generic explanation to address her by name, "is what you want life at the library to entail."

‍She clenches her fists at her side, trying to draw the blood away from her cheeks. "What?"

‍"What would you say your goals are?"

‍Her throat tightens. Goals? Nesta hasn't had a goal in...probably since she stopped taking magic lessons with Amren. And for her life, well....

‍"Why don't we start with what urged you to make the decision to come here?"

‍Blinking twice, Nesta says, "My sisters."

‍"Did you come to appease them, or another reason, or a mix of both?"

‍Perhaps it's something in the female's tone, that genuine curiosity, that puts Nesta the slightest bit at ease.

‍"For them, mostly. But...a little bit for me." It sounds stupid when she says it, but Thalia does scoff or roll her eyes--of course not. And that's enough for her to continue, unprompted, "I want to live again."

‍Without missing a beat, Thalia leans over and picks up the book from the table and takes out a pen from the pocket of her robe. "Why don't we figure out how you can do that, then?"

Perhaps it was because of the topic of conversation--Nesta hates talking about herself--but she didn't remember sober conversations being so...difficult.

‍Thalia had coaxed Nesta into telling her the things she most wanted to happen. She had congratulated her on her sobriety--almost a full week, Nesta's mind bit with mock enthusiasm--and encouraged her to take her success there as indication that she is capable of working towards everything else she desires.

‍But so far Nesta is only sober because she lives in a house completely inaccessible to the outside world--unless she wants to hike down ten thousand steps, or ask Rhysand to carry her down--and there is no alcohol inside of it. She can't possibly manage any of her other goals in the real world.

‍"Why not?" Thalia had asked. "And who says this isn't the real world?"

‍That was fair. So Nesta shrugged, and after a painstaking few hours, they had a list of things Nesta wanted to do for now, comprised of a sentence Nesta worded and then Thalia's additions.

Not drift off inside her own head for undetermined amounts of time -> determine triggers.

Not always feel like she needs alcohol -> find productive coping mechanisms.

Be able to talk to Elain and Feyre normally -> determine what is stopping her since all three of them want the same thing.

Start reading again.

The fourth one Thalia had been very pleased to hear, and she had left as Nesta said it.

"I'd be happy to give you some recommendations, if you'd like," she'd said.

"There are romances in the House," she said. She had spotted some on the shelves in her room that hadn't been there last time. And who knew when the next time she was going to have sex was? Who knew if she'd ever have sex again? So she'd better find a good novel.

She didn't tell the priestess that, of course.

So after a morning of that, and a quiet lunch of one slice of toast by herself in the House--not much, but more than she'd expected to have. The detoxing must've given her the slightest bit of appetite again--Nesta descends down to the library again to begin her new job of shelving books.

The work isn't so bad. Dusty, and tedious, but it's good enough at distracting her from herself, because she doesn't know the library well enough for it to be mindless. After a few hours of this, a strong bell rings out--the call to prayer. The priestess all make their way to the same place, leaving Nesta alone in the library for half an hour, then they are back. No one asks her why she didn't join. No one asks her anything at all the whole day, until a second, softer bell rings out, and the priestesses begin to leave for dinner, and she back up to the House, and Clotho waits for her at the door.

Hello, Nesta, she charms her pen to write for her. How was your first day?

"All right," she says. It was. It was...fine. Not terrible.

Thalia tells me she's very impressed with your progress.

Nesta blinks. She hasn't done anything.

Clotho huffs a small sound of amusement, swaying her hood slightly. It can generally take a long while for someone to share with Thalia as much as you did.

I noticed you seemed interested in the Wats books.

At this, Nesta blushed slightly. Children's books, tall tales. "I hadn't realized I was being watched."

Clotho only waits.

"Yes," she says eventually. "I...like stories."

One of our senior priestesses is giving a series of lectures on the history of children's literature. There's one tomorrow. Perhaps you'd like to join.

The pink tinge in Nesta's cheeks hasn't fully faded. "Maybe."

Was there something else you wanted to say, Nesta?

Is it that obvious? Nesta's always thought she's good at keeping her thoughts off her face, but Clotho and Thalia seem to see right through her.

"I still don't understand how this is supposed to work," she admits.

Clotho lifts her head to show her another smile. I'm afraid "this" will require some patience. We want to find the right path for you. In the meantime, however, you are welcome to join sessions or lectures, and I will figure out an assignment for you within the coming weeks.

You have nothing to worry about, Nesta, Clotho adds. You're going to do so well. You're stronger than you think you are.

She has to say that to everyone, Nesta supposes, but she nods anyway, and turns to go up into the House.

Dinner is as quiet as lunch was, and Nesta manages to stomach another slice of toast and even some raw celery. Anything hot or rich, Nesta finds, is too much for her to bear, and she can't keep down. Even buttering her toast is too much for her. The House doesn't seem to grow impatient with her as she uncertainly, almost shyly, asks it for new foods. Just to see if she can smell them without growing nauseated. Small steps. Perhaps one day she'll be able to eat normally again.

Or perhaps not. Perhaps she'll be this wretched, vile, pathetic thing--

I have never in my life thought you were pathetic.

It's not an uncommon occurrence, for Cassian's deep voice to echo in her mind, but it's been some time since they've felt so...comforting.

Your sisters love you. I can't for the life of me understand why, but they do. Yes, that had spun around in her mind for months. And most nights, sometimes even with another male's arms around her...I have no regrets in my life, but this. That we did not have time. That I did not have time with you, Nesta. I will find you in the next world - the next life. And we will have that time. I promise.

He hadn't meant it. Or...he had in the moment and then without the looming threat, he had changed his mind. Or she had done something...

But this is real.

I have never in my life thought you were pathetic.

It feels real. It feels honest and true and tonight, it is enough to drive out other thoughts, enough to spur her into choosing a book to start, enough to make her forget that she wanted the fifth thing on that list to be Not be so awful and disgusting and useless and pathetic because if he think she's not, then she's not.

It's enough to make her think she's doing the right thing, and enough to make her do it again tomorrow.

The next day, no one seeks Nesta out for a session. Some of the senior librarians say hello to her, but she is mostly left to her own devices and continues shelving books on her own. She does so all morning, and she expects to do so all afternoon, but around two, a priestess approaches her and asks her if she wants to join her lecture circuit on the history of children's literature. There's no real reason not to go, so Nesta agrees.

‍The room is smaller than the ones Father had once described to her were at higher institutes on the continent. It's the right size for the dozen or so priestesses already sitting in a semi-circle, facing a black board where a charmed piece of chalk already begins to write.

‍Nesta sits in an empty seat on the edge of the semi-circle, next to a copper-haired priestess, with her hood hanging at her shoulders. Actually, Nesta muses to herself as she studies the girl out of the corner of her eye, she might not even be a priestess at all. She isn't wearing that necklace they all have on their foreheads. It's nice to think that there's someone else here who doesn't worship that thing.

‍The lecture is interesting, if a bit confusing at times. Nesta is largely unfamiliar with children's stories over the Wall--there had been no magical quests or enchanted objects in her childhood. The witches and sorcerers and faeries had always been the villains.

‍But it's nice. To learn something new, to hear it from someone who is clearly passionate about it.

‍When the lecture is over, the priestess--Calliope--talks to her while the other girls file out.

‍"To your liking?" she asks, blunt.

‍"Yes," Nesta answers.

‍"Thalia said you might like some recommendations. What are you interested in?"

‍"Anything good. Romances."

‍"Are you well-versed in fae classics?"

‍"No," Nesta says. She's fairly well versed in human classics, though.

‍"I'll get you started. I'll have a pile ready for you by the end of the day."

‍"I...thank you," she says.

‍The priestess nods once and turns on her heel to leave.

‍Nesta blinks. She didn't realize priestesses could be...not so like Thalia or Clotho and maybe more...like her. Back when she was like herself, at least. She shakes herself a little and walks out of the room, too.

‍"What did Calliope say to you?" asks a clear, pretty voice from behind.

‍Nesta turns. The ginger possibly-not-priestess.

‍"Excuse me?"

‍"What did Calliope say to you?" she repeats, taking a step closer.

‍Tensing slightly, Nesta says, "She asked me if I liked her lecture."

‍"Well?"

‍Hands now fisted at her sides, Nesta says, "I beg your pardon?"

‍"Well, did you like it?"

‍"I did," Nesta says shortly.

‍"Do you think you'll be assigned to her?"

‍"I..."

‍"You haven't been assigned yet. I mean, you're new, so that's not unusual, but since you don't live with us and you're only coming now we wondered if you were going to be assigned earlier."

‍Nesta raises an eyebrow. "We?"

‍The girl offers her a sheepish grin. "It's not every day we get someone new. We...the other girls and I...we were just a little curious."

‍"Hm."

‍"Well, do you think you want to be assigned to her? I'm Gwyenth Berdara, by the way, I'm another student here."

‍"Nesta."

‍"I know. You're the High Lady's sister and you slew the King of Hybern."

‍Nesta freezes slightly, for a moment. Then she says, "I didn't. I stabbed him."

‍"Oh," Gwyneth says, teal eyes widening. "Well...they call you kingslayer. Not kingstabber. It's a better nickname," she adds, when Nesta doesn't say anything. "As far as nicknames go. Mine's Gwyn, by the way. Or what everyone calls me. Not as suave as kingslayer, but what can you do?"

‍Gwyneth Berdara...talks more than Morrigan.

‍"Sorry," Gwyn says, laughing a little. "We're not supposed to overwhelm you. I just...wanted to talk to you."

‍"Were you told not to overwhelm me?" Were those Feyre's orders, she wonders.

‍"Just anyone new. But...some girls don't talk for weeks, and you've already come to a lecture on your second day. And you talked to Thalia for a long time yesterday."

‍"I hadn't realized I was being studied."

‍Gwyn laughs. "This library's smaller than you think. So, you liked the lecture? Do you think you'll come to the next one?"

‍"Probably." What else is there to do?

‍"I like Calliope's circuits. She's always doing something interesting, if you like books. Do you like books?"

‍"I do."

‍"Well. Then you'll probably like her circuits."

‍They are both silent for a few moments, before Nesta realizes it is probably her turn to initiate conversation. "How long have you been here?"

‍"Two years, about." She is quiet for a beat, before she adds, "Lord Azriel and Lady Morrigan brought me here."

‍Nesta blanches. She's never heard them referred to with their titles before.

‍"Do you like staying at the House of Wind?"

‍"I...it's all right. Yes," she decides. "I like it." Why not? It gave her a standing bath. It keeps the fireplaces empty and uses some other form of magic, she thinks, to heat her room.

‍"Oh," Gwyn says, and Nesta thinks she deflates a bit. "I thought you might prefer to stay in our dorms."

‍"I'm not very religious." That's polite. Nesta actively hates their god. Or whatever the cauldron is supposed to be. Demon, more like.

‍"Oh," Gwyn says, blinking in surprise. "Oh. Well. That's all right. If you...ever change your mind. And you want to stay in our dormitories, I could help you find a room."

‍"Thank you," Nesta says.

‍Again, they are both quiet. Perhaps neither of them has had a friendly conversation in a while.

‍With a jolt, Nesta realizes--this has been a friendly conversation.

‍Nesta tries to grasp at something to say, something friendly. Has she been friendly? Or has she been cold this entire time? No, if the girl has been talking to her all the while, she must have been friendly. It's not as though Nesta's never been friendly in her life. She's had friends before. Clare and Joyly and Heather. She knows how. Even if none of them had thought her a good enough friend to bother trying to talk to her after she had distanced herself, after Tomas, after Feyre--

‍"I have to be getting back to my priestess. We're researching dimensions and other worlds. But I'll see you, Nesta." With a small wave, Gwyn bounds away.

‍"See you," she calls after her.

‍That...that's good, isn't it? Probably something Elain and Feyre would be pleased to hear. Maybe she should tell them. Invite them up for dinner.

‍Or is it too pathetic? One cordial conversation isn't anything to write home about. But maybe they'd like to know she's doing better; pathetic as her version of better is.

‍I have never in my life thought you were pathetic.

‍Maybe...maybe she should.

‍She'll just write them a letter, she decides. No, that's too formal. But sending them up is too dramatic...but if they want to come see her--

‍Nesta pinches herself. Hard. Enough till she's only focussing on the pain, so these incessant, stupid thoughts are driven out of her head.

‍Just go back to shelving books, she tells herself. Just put away the books and don't think about anything else.

‍Her mind does stray, though, and she wonders if any of the minuscule steps she takes in the right direction are worth the spiralling she has to go through after.

Despite her echoing anxieties, her physical weakness, and sheer exhaustion of being herself, Nesta does manage to get through the weekend--Feyre does not visit, but she and Elain both send up letters, decorated with little paintings and pressed flowers--and to the weekly check-in on Sunday. She doesn't know what to expect, but Gwyneth Berdara is there in the large hall, where they all sit in a circle, and waves her over.

‍"Good morning," she says.

‍"Good morning," Nesta answers.

‍"First weekly check-in."

‍"Yes."

‍"You don't have to say anything, if you don't want to. I didn't for months. Ten months, actually."

‍She certainly does talk a lot now, though.

‍"I didn't realize there were so many females here," Nesta says, looking around. Dozens of girls...probably more than fifty, plus the twelve higher priestesses. Gwyn is the only one who doesn't wear the necklace on her forehead.

‍"A lot don't wander so much. Some don't come out of their rooms except for this."

‍"Oh," Nesta says. So it's...good, then. That she can still go places. Talk to people. Maybe she really isn't as hopeless as she thinks.

‍Not that these females are hopeless. That's not what she thinks. Oh, that's a horrible thing to think, especially after what they've been through--

‍"That's Merrill," Gwyn says, pointing at a senior priestess. "I'm assigned to her."

‍Carefully, Nesta says, "Maybe I'll be assigned to her, too."

‍"Ooh, you better hope not. Merrill's the worst." Gwyn shudders.

‍"What?" Nesta asks. "Aren't they all supposed to be nice?"

‍Gwyn scoffs. "Says who? Are you nice?"

‍"I...guess not," Nesta says. "But I'm not a senior priestess."

‍"All right, that wasn't nice," Gwyn admits. "Sorry. You're right. She should probably be nicer. She should definitely be nicer...and you're all right."

‍"I'm not nice." She has never been nice.

‍Gwyn shrugs. "Well, I like you anyway."

‍Nesta's heart stutters. "Er--why don't you ask Clotho to reassign you?" she asks, pulse pounding in her ears.

‍Gwyn crosses her arms. "I can stick it out."

‍Is that what she looks like, Nesta wonders, to other people?

‍She should tell her something. This Gwyn. Tell her to switch priestesses. Or...tell Merrill to be nicer. Or tell Clotho to tell Merrill to be nicer. Or maybe she can do it for her.

‍"Good morning, everyone," Thalia starts, and Nesta's eyes snap to her. "Let's begin, shall we?"

‍The weekly check-in is mercifully not as terrible as Nesta imagined. There's no announcement of her presence, though she can feel plenty of people stealing glances ("It's not every day we get a Lady of the court in here," Gwyn whispers to her. "Especially not the kingslayer."). Thalia announces changes in the schedule for the week, and one of the other senior priestesses gives a short lecture on her specialty, and then Thalia asks who'd like to begin the circle.

‍The circle, Nesta learns, is the worst of it. Everyone goes around in a circle and introduces themselves by name and says whatever they want. True to Thalia's word, though, no one has to talk, and no one says anything horrible. It's mostly banal, like I worked really hard on a paper last week or I sent my mother a letter and she still hasn't replied and I'm feeling anxious or I don't have anything to say today, but I hope everyone has a good week.

‍And then it is her turn, and who-knows-how-many pairs of eyes are locked on her and she just...can't. She can't. What are they thinking? Gwyn says they call her kingslayer, so they must know what happened.. Are they thinking about how she couldn't save her father? How she killed one thousand Illyrian soldiers? How about how she drowned herself in alcohol, how the mark of its loss is still clearly etched in the bruises under her eyes, the dullness of her hair, the sallowness of her skin. How ugly she is, how she never deserved anything better than that slew of nameless males who didn't care about her, how she just fails at everything she tries--

‍"My name is Gwyn. I had a good week."

‍The next girl speaks, and the eyes are--finally--off Nesta.

‍Gwyn touches her shoulder. "Don't worry about it," she says in a hushed voice. "At least you didn't cry."

‍Nesta manages a small smile. It might look more like a grimace, but Gwyn gives her a grin.

‍"It's really not half as embarrassing as you think," she whispers. "Everyone here is way more concerned with what others think of them...until you realize no one's thinking about that."

‍Maybe she's just saying that.

‍But...maybe she can just believe it. Just for now.

‍The weekly check-in ends, and the week passes by.

‍Nesta doesn't get assigned to a priestess, but she still--she thinks--makes progress. She may be making a friend, as Gwyn seeks her out a few more times. Sometimes just to say hello, sometimes to ask her if she wants to join her for a lecture or a session. She generally goes. She likes the jewellery making, finding that working with her hands keeps her focused enough that she can't think about herself. All the lectures, actually, Nesta finds interesting, as there's just so much she doesn't know about this world.

‍On Tuesday, she writes a letter to her sisters, telling them she's doing all right, and perhaps they can come visit over the weekend.

‍On Wednesday, she feels hungry and restless--hungry and restless. So she has two slices of bread with soup and she doesn't even feel sick, and she goes for a walk afterwards, on the track circling the outside of the House.

‍On Thursday, she brushes her hair in the morning, and almost none of it is ripped out with the brush. She makes Gwyn laugh with something she says about a lecture they disagreed on. Thalia tells her she thinks she has some ideas for coping mechanisms she wants her to try. She goes for another walk in the evening, even jogging a bit as the House hurries her along with flashing faelights.

‍"What is it?" she says, as she enters the door, gasping slightly. Goodness, she's never been so out of shape in her life. That was barely a run.

‍But the House isn't done yet, flashing more lights, leading her into her bedroom.

‍"Oh...do you...are we playing a game?"

‍The House swings her door--impatiently?--to get her inside, and when she is, it swings shut behind her and disappears into a wall.

‍"Hey!" Nesta says. "What are you--"

‍A tea cart appears in front of her. Nesta can smell the lemon and honey from the kettle as it rolls towards her. One of the armchairs pulls out.

‍"Are we having a tea party?" Nesta asks.

‍As if in answer, a book appears on the coffee table.

‍"Do you want me to read to you?" Nesta asks.

‍The curtains pull shut and her faelights flicker on.

‍"I'll take that as a yes," she says, and sits down to entertain the House. She gives a small huff of a laugh. "You had to finish my walk early, did you?"

There's no way around it: Cassian has never been more pathetic in his life than he is with this female.

‍Whether it's circling her estate, thinking of insults to throw at her, or circling her apartment, imagining himself tossing out the male with her that night and confessing everything to her, or circling the House to sneak a peek of her through one of the Windows...all right, so it's mostly all the same move. Gods, when had he become so predictable?

‍Pathetic, nonetheless.

‍The worst part of it is, he doesn't even try and convince himself to stop anymore. Not when Elain shrieks one morning and says Nesta's invited her and Feyre up for lunch on Saturday. Not when he sees her go out for a walk Wednesday evening--a walk, with a bit more meat on her bones, and a shine to her hair and--he might be too far to tell, but it looks like--life in her eyes.

‍Not joy. Not...excitement. Not even contentment. But life. And that's...so much more than what had been last week.

‍He wonders if it might've consoled her to know that he was just as miserable as she was. More so, even. Because he felt all the pain she did and he also felt his own pain of seeing her that way. Of knowing that fierce, cunning, determined, wildly brave, unnaturally beautiful female was...struggling. So, so hard.

‍Sleeping a level above her each night, and thinking only of her...and knowing she's not thinking of him. Of course not. It was stupid and selfish and stupid again, but...it's true.

‍And her getting better is not for him he tells himself, as he watches her go on a walk for a second evening in a row.

‍(Not that he's watching her. He's checking the wards. It's not as though he knew she'd be out. He didn't. It just happened.)

‍Not for you, he says to himself. Feyre had been clear. This is for checking the wards; to make sure she's safe. And the extra weight on her is not for him to better imagine holding onto something as he presses her against himself; it's so she's healthy. So she doesn't wither and waste away. She is not imagining a stroll through the Night Court botanical gardens with him right now; she's just getting fresh air.

‍Time to go. Wards are checked, alarms are set, so it's time to go.

‍He doesn't let himself steal another glance--not for you--as he turns to fly away.

‍He should go to the ends of the city. Shake this off him, put his head on straight. This is pathetic. This is just sad. Maybe he should go out with Mor. He did this for her, didn't she? For five hundred odd years. She can do this for him. Maybe he can even meet someone, just for a night, just a distraction--

‍But Nesta is all he sees when he closes his eyes. The beautiful woman she once was, the sickly female she is now, and guilt and revulsion rock him to his core at the very thought of someone else...

‍Pathetic, since she doesn't want him, and probably never will. No, not probably, just never.

‍Three clear bells ring out in the distance, and self-pity and misery snap out of Cassian as blinding fear takes their place.

‍The alarms.

‍Nesta.

‍He is on his way, flying faster than he ever has in his life, before he even registers it. And for the first time, he wishes he were like Rhys or Az and could winnow--prays one of them is already there, or both of them, to fight off whoever it is, to keep her safe--oh gods--oh, she's so scared, she's terrified, she's afraid for her life--and the priestesses--

‍Rhys and Az are already there, inside the House, and there are half a dozen. Illyrians. Illyrians.

‍So they were right. He hadn't wanted to believe it. Doesn't want to believe it. That they would ever...that they would dare...

‍Cassian can't think, just has to move, get them out, kill--

‍"No," Rhys snarls at him.

‍Dimly, Cassian knows why. They're plotting a rebellion. To take over their court, and to give Nesta over to their enemy. Direct attacks against the royal bloodline. They need to be interrogated. They can't be killed.

‍But they can't live. They're going to hurt Nesta; they can't be allowed to live.

‍INCAPACITATE, Rhys barks to his mind.

‍Fine. He will. But he doesn't have to make it clean.

‍He does it quick, though. Nesta's scared. She's probably hiding somewhere, scared for her life. He needs to do it quickly for her.

‍They're fair warriors, but no match for the three of them. It's not close to being a fair fight. It's only a few minutes before he and Az have knocked out the six of them--Az letting him do the brunt of it--and Rhys drags back another two who had gone off to find Nesta.

‍"Easy," Rhys snaps at him.

‍"Calm down or go," Az adds. "Nesta's in her room. She's safe."

‍"You'll scare her."

‍"I won't," Cassian says, growling.

‍Rhys unceremoniously drops the two Illyrians on the floor next to the six others. "Well, you've already destroyed her living room," he says drily, "and you're covered in blood."

‍"Not mine." Not enough.

‍"Calm down," Rhys says, and this time it's an order.

‍Cassian takes a deep breath. "She's in her room?"

‍"I can bring Feyre up--"

‍"Bring her, but I want to see her. She needs to see me." The words come out of their own accord, but neither of his brothers corrects him.

‍"We'll both go," Rhys says. "Az...take care of this."

‍Az nods once, and they go down the stairs.

‍Nesta's scent grows stronger as they descend. Not much fear that he can detect, though. None of the bitterness of adrenaline. Just that sweet, gutting floral, mixed with traces from books she's always buried in. And, he realizes pleasantly, no alcohol.

‍When they get to her floor, Nesta's bedroom door is missing. In place is a wall. Before he can hurl himself at it to break it down, it morphs back into a door, and Rhys is there, knocking, again before Cassian can move.

‍"Nesta?" he calls out. "It's safe."

‍Cassian can hear her shuffling around before she comes to open the door.

‍He fights to keep upright and still as her eyes meet his, widening more than he's ever seen.

‍"What happened to you?" she asks, voice stronger and clearer than he's heard in a long time. Beautiful, lyrical, even if she does sound appalled. "Did you come from a battlefield?"

‍"How did you get the door to change into a wall?" Rhys asks her. "That was clever. Was that your magic?"

‍Nesta blinks at him. "No...the House was playing a game."

‍"You play games with the House?" Cassian says softly.

‍She turns to him again.

‍Yes, look at me, look at me, look at me, Nesta Nesta Nesta--

‍"I...we're friendly." She tinges pink.

‍"You're friends with the House?" Rhys says, blankly.

‍She reddens still--yes.

‍"Why are you covered in blood?" she says again.

‍"You...don't know what happened?" Rhys asks carefully.

‍Nesta rolls her eyes--oh, gods, how he's missed seeing her irritated. Oh, maybe she'll turn red again. "Obviously not."

‍"The important thing to remember is that you're safe," Rhys says, his voice patient and gentle.

‍Nesta shoots him a sharp look, fully aware he's never taken that tone with her.

‍"What is it? What's happened?"

‍Oh, brilliant--now she's scared.

‍Cassian takes a step closer. "The House was breached," he says to her, and her face pales. "But that's what the alarms are for. They worked. And we all got here, and we've got them. Now we're going to figure out who else is working with them. We're going to keep you safe."

‍Nesta looks up. "I was safe. I am, I mean. The House...I didn't even hear anything. It just told me to come into my room and gave me some tea and asked me to read to it."

‍"It asked you to read to it?"

‍"I thought it was a game." Nesta moves past them, walking upstairs. She gasps slightly when she reaches the main floor and sees the state of the living room.

‍Cassian ignored the pointed look Rhys gives him. "I can clean it up." Thank the Mother Az has already gotten the eight of them out.

‍But the House already appears to be doing so itself. It even moves some furniture around, away from a wall that's been badly damaged.

‍Nesta sucks in a breath as she walks towards it and crouches down on the floor. "Oh...did they hurt you?" she says, quietly to...to the House. "I'm sorry. I...thank you for keeping me safe. I'll...I can fix this for you. I'll get you something to fix it." She puts her palm on the cracks and craters, as if stroking the hurt.

‍You will not, Cassian tells himself sternly, be jealous of a house.

‍Pathetic. Just...pathetic.

‍"Your sisters will want to see you," Rhys says. "Maybe you should spend the night at our home."

‍"No," Nesta says, not turning from the wall. "I'm staying here. Oh!" She leaps up, whipping around, face white again. "Is--are--the library, was it--"

‍"The library is fine," Rhys says smoothly. "The priestess are all fine. They wouldn't have even heard any of this."

‍Nesta breathes a sigh of relief. "All right," she says. "That's...that's good. All right."

‍"Are you sure you don't want to come down, Nesta?" Rhys asks, voice kind again.

‍"Yes," she says. "But Elain and Feyre can come up if they want to," she adds. "I'm all right, though. Really. I know I'm safe here." She touches the wall again.

‍Nevermind that it's he who's covered in blood, who fought them off for her. It's the walls she's grateful to, the walls she reads to and plays games with--

‍Shut up, idiot, shut up.

‍"We'll go bring them up, then. Unless...would you like one of us to stay with you?"

‍"I'm really fine."

‍"All right. Well...we'll be back in a few minutes."

‍Nesta nods and turns around to put her hands on the wall again, to talk to the House.

‍Rhys, the bastard, takes notes and gives him a grin as they step off the veranda and fly down to the riverfront manor together.

‍"I was jealous a lot before Feyre told me she loved me, but never--"

‍"Shut up," he snarls, and Rhys has the audacity to laugh.

‍He doesn't mind so much. Nesta's safe and...she's doing better and eating and going on walks and she has a friend.

‍Even if it is just a house.

#acosf fic #nessian fic #i know this feels more like a nesta/house of wind fic #but there will be nessian eventually i promise #also yayyyy gwyn!!!

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sansmania · 3 years

Text

its o VER WHY WAS THIS SO LONG?

part 1 | part 2 | art that goes with the fic

Title: Your Man

Ship: Boss [ @bonelyheartsclub ]/ GN Reader

Descrip: take it im drifting out to sea because HES GONNA BE A COWBOY thE END

Willie had taken his time to take in the damage done to the beloved boots, tutting and frowning at the holes and shredded leather.

"Oh yeah, I can fix 'em for ya, but it'll take a few days, Mr. Boss. That lil' dog did a number to these." Boss exhaled through his nasal bone with a silent nod. It seems 'Toby' had also managed to dislodge some of the pins that held the heels in, which would mean the boots needed to be completely stripped and rebuilt from the sole up.

"That is fine, I suppose. They mean a great deal to me, so take the time you need to get them back to perfect condition." He seemed a bit emotional about leaving the boots behind, and you gently assured the skeleton that they were in skilled hands. Leaving his contact information, the two of you turned to leave.

Until a bony hand grabbed your neckline again.

"You said this store specializes in leather and boots, correct?"

"Yes?" You held the word out longer than necessary, red pinpricks looking down at you, then to the fluorescent shoes between you.

"I would like to peruse them, then. It would not hurt for me to have a few more sets, anyway. And I am beyond done with these sneakers. I feel like one of those fictional circus clowns."

You bit your tongue at his presumption, knowing Boss wouldn't listen to a word you had to say on the subject, and accepted your fate in the tobacco and wood lacker scented hell.

After a bit of searching, pausing only to laugh at some of the ridiculous 'southern fact' signs they had decorating a shelf, the pair of you found the boot section of the large store.

"Human, I highly doubt if Texas were real, that it would home ninety percent of the planet's spider population." You couldn't help the snort that came out at Boss' comment as he walked over to the wall of shoes.

His eyelights were transfixed on the detailed stiches in some of the leather boots. His phalanges traced over a pair that had some gaudy gems placed into them- a pair that had studs- red stained leather- black snake skin. He was strangely silent as he looked over each set with wonder.

You didn't think any of them were Boss' style, to be honest. They were about classic as classic cowboy boots get- you could have sworn you even spotted a pair made of alligator skin.

"These." He finally spoke, pulling down one of the only sets that seemed to be ankle high. They were a deep maroon, black stitching along the sides and folds, and a very obvious steel toe embedded inside. There were a few gold embellishments and you felt they were gaudy as all hell.

But, that expression of wonder in Boss' eyes made him look like a child on gyftmas morning.

It was cute.

He was cute.

"I mean, sure, if you're into red, black and gold-" The skeleton flicked his eyes towards you, making your mouth snap shut. He took a seat on a nearby bench, listlessly kicking off the offending accessories to try the new boots on.

Boss became silent once again, taking in the shine of leather as he tilted his feet and legs to get a good look at them.

"There is a mirror over there." You mention, pointing a few feet away, and he stood up to admire the shape of the shoes. And while he did so, you also found yourself admiring him.

Boss was very tall- even without the help of his stiletto heels- and his broad shoulders squared in perfect posture made almost anything he wore look breathtaking. His choice of attire today fit snuggly against his ribcage, tapering down his spine- making Boss look, pun intended, skeleton thin. Tight, but soft, leather pants hugged his narrow hips and bony legs, perfectly shaping his body.

"Hmm. A bit lower than what I am used to, but they are quite fetching on me. What do you think, human?"

He caught you staring, once again, in the mirror- just as your eyes had been slowly trailing down his legs, brain becoming grey mush. You curse quietly, turning your head away with a mutter of agreement.

"Sadly, they do not match the rest of my attire. I should see if they have apparel here to compliment my figure and accessories." He made an amused sound when you cocked your head at the suggestion, cheeks burning with new fervor.

Oh. He knew exactly what he was doing now. Boss wouldn't even play with the idea if any of his family was around, but since it was just the two of you, he was going to continue his sadistic game.

When you had first met Boss, you would have sworn he didn't have a playful bone in his body- the serious tone and way he carried himself made it seem he was all work and no play. But, as you got to know him, his true colors seemed to blossom forth. Yes, he hated puns, that didn't mean he had no sense of humor. His humor was dry and a little cynical- and you had nearly soiled yourself in laughter when he cracked his first joke around you.

He also found Blue and Nox's rivalry amusing, egging them on at times just to get under their skin.

And when then two of you were alone, he was much more relaxed, allowing more of his jovial side to come out. Sometimes it was a welcome blessing and sometimes it was not.

As it was at your expense today, it was one of those times that his sense of humor didn't delight.

"Uh, s-sure. Why not? Let's find you a nice pair of chaps-" Boss' amused smile caught you off guard as he held a hand up to stop you from moving. You had hoped he would allow you to help, maybe in a way save yourself from this horrible fate.

"No, I believe I can handle dressing myself just fine. Though, I will listen to your opinion after I have chosen an outfit." The smirk didn't go away as you made a noise of disdain. The skeleton sauntered off on his own, leaving you to scream internally at being caught red handed and was going to make you suffer for it.

When he turned a corner, you were on your feet- tossing the old converse in your inventory- and did your best to sneak around the store behind the him. Occasionally, Boss would turn his head out of suspicion, causing you to duck behind a shelf, while he thumbed through the racks of clothes.

He was enjoying teasing you like this, smirk still apparent on his face. You were by no means subtle, so Boss knew you were tailing him around, and that only added to his amusement.

You peeked over a row of jackets that were fastened with tassels while Boss sifted through some button up shirts. His foot tapped along to the music with perfect rhythm, though, you were more shocked when his low voice was barely audible.

He was quietly singing along to the tune.

Boss Gothic Serif.

Was singing country.

And he knew you were watching and listening.

The next time he glanced over his shoulder, Boss caught your reddened face as a devious smile curled on his skull. He knew exactly what he was doing.

"Human, I have picked out a suitable ensemble. Feel free to wait there for me to change." You didn't hide this time when he spoke up, accepting defeat, stepping out to follow the monster towards the changing rooms.

You knew from the first day of meeting these skeletons that they would be the death of you. You just didn't expect it to be in a dime store cowboy shop in the city.

Flopping down on another bench, you waited for death to finish his wardrobe swap and drag you to the dark depths- knowing now that he was going to be dressed like a cowboy with Shania Twain playing gently to send you off.

The shuffle of cloth behind the barn themed doors caught your attention, the soft click of bones on wood as a lock was lifted and the doors swung open.

Words choked in your mouth as it hung ajar, Boss stepping out of the small room with the most smug look on his face you had ever seen him muster.

His head was tilted down ever so slightly, burning red eyes shaded by the black hat atop his skull. Your eyes dragged down to the crisp maroon and black button up, gold skull bola tie strung in the collar and rested on his nearly bare breastbone.

The shirt was rolled at the sleeves, showing off his battle scarred hands and arms, and the tail tucked neatly into a pair of tight black dyed jeans; adorned and held up by a red leather belt that had a large gold skull buckle to keep it all together. The jeans hugged the skeleton's frame all the way down to the coordinated boots.

Boss leaned against the doorframe, taking in your reaction with sadistic glee; How you couldn't form a single word in appreciation to his wardrobe selection. How your face was red enough to put his shirt to shame. How your eyes lingered over the single undone button at his clavicle.

How your reaction made his soul thrum with pride.

"Comments?" He finally spoke, beyond amused at the way you startled to his rough voice- dropping it an octave or two, successfully getting further reactions out of you. Finally, you managed to swallow the hard, dry lump that formed in your throat, tearing your gaze away to look back to Boss' expecting eyes.

You coughed and looked away

"Yee. Haw?" Was all you could manage as he stepped forward, boots loudly clacking against the hardwood floor. The terrifying skeleton you called a friend, and obviously waxed red towards, stopped mere feet before you, dragging your attention back to him.

"Is that all you have to say? I would appreciate some feedback, maybe I should make another selection if this doesn't suit me-"

"No, don't!" You found your voice as Boss turned heel to find something else to fluster you with. He quirked a brow ridge at your outburst, returning to his previous position, arms crossed as he awaited to hear your real feelings.

"You. You look good, Boss." You did your best to hold your voice steady as his gaze made you shrink into the bench, like you were going to become a permanent fixture in the store.

"Just ‘good’?" Oh, he was going to make you suffer. Breathing hard through your nose, you looked back up at him. Boss already knew how you felt, so this was just torture to feed his ego.

And you may as well feed it.

"Fine." There was a pause as you found the words. “You look amazing. Handsome. Stunning.” You could feel your face and neck darkening with each admission- at this point, had you even been referring to just how he looked now? He seemed to preen at each compliment, all too pleased to drink in your words of praise.

"Then I do believe I will purchase these items. They may be in start contrast to the rest of my wardrobe, but some variety in life never hurts."

It was interesting to watch Boss fannagle with the cashier about buying all the clothes items while he was still in them- but he managed to do it, and in style, if you were honest.

With his boots squared away, clothes tucked into his inventory, and you at his side, Boss literally strutted out of the store- leading you both back to his car.

"Human, you make it so easy to fluster you, you do realize that." Boss' smile from before had not left his features, even as you pulled into the culdesac in which you lived.

"Yeah, I'm aware, Boss." You heaved a final embarrassed sigh as the car came to a stop at your curb. Gathering your belongings, and what little bit of pride you had left, the car door swung open and you turned back to him. "Tease the human that has feelings for you. Ha, ha."

"But, uh." You pause, leaning on the door to look Boss in the eyes.

"Have fun getting into your room before Red or Stretch see you, Cowboy."

#bhc #kisa writes #bonelyheartsclub #theres a reason i dont write fanfic anymore

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beewolfwrites · 3 years

Text

And When I am Formulated, Sprawling on a Pin - Chapter Eight: Mad to Live, Mad to Talk

The eighth instalment of my Chishiya x OC/reader fic - you can find it here on AO3 too.

Thank you to the people who always leave likes and comments, seeing/reading them honestly makes my day :) xx

As for what I mentioned in my last update, I’ll add the references as a chapter at the end of the fic (because some of them will give away spoilers!)

Speaking of spoilers, you guys probably connected some dots (a la hoodie)

Sorry, I'll stop talking - enjoy!

--------------------------------------------------------------------

The drawl of his voice stretched like a lifeline, pulling me back to myself. Back to the bar.

Chishiya was slouched against the counter, idly watching the scene before him. His eyes dropped to the gun, before rising to meet mine. There was nothing in them, not amusement, not even cruelty. Nothing. They were emptier and darker than they’d ever been. And yet at that moment, I had never been more overjoyed to see him.

‘You should probably put that thing away,’ he said. ‘Hatter won’t be too happy if you start messing with her. He’s got high expectations of her.’

The man pushed the gun further into my skin, sending bursts of anxiety through me. I didn’t want him to pull the trigger accidentally. If he shot me in the stomach, it’d be a slow, painful death.

‘You know Chishiya, I’m pretty sick of you interfering all the time. You should stay out of militant business.’

Chishiya eyed the man with disinterest. ‘Militant business. It’s fascinating what you guys do. You take out the trash and dish out the sentence, but you never check the evidence.’

‘What the hell are you talking about?’ the man snarled. ‘Just shut up and stay out of this.’

‘What I’m saying is that you never bother checking to see if the ‘traitors’ are actually traitors. It’s surprisingly easy to slip a few cards into someone else’s room.’

The tension peaked, and I winced as the fingers around my wrist tightened painfully. Then just as quickly, he released me. He hissed a spew of threats in Chishiya’s face, then stormed off. I hadn’t understood a word, but either way, Chishiya was completely unbothered.

Now that we were alone, he barely even spared me a glance. I half-wondered why he was here. He wouldn’t have come to the bar just to help me. But I also couldn’t picture him as a drunk. As if to answer all the questions floating around in my head, Chishiya signalled to the bartender and said two words.

‘お水をください’ Water, please.

Knowing him, he’d say that alcohol clouds your mind and dulls your rational thinking skills. The bartender set the glass on the counter, but Chishiya didn’t walk away, but sipped his water.

‘Thanks,’ I muttered, although helping me was likely never on his agenda. ‘I’m guessing stuff like that’s pretty common around here.’

‘Well, there are only three rules,’ he said. With one side glance, he zeroed in on the hoodie Kuina had given me. ‘Right now, you’re not allowed to go roaming the city alone because you’re still new, and that makes you a liability. But the next time you’re in a game, you’ll be paired with one of the executives, or someone else with a high rank. If you ask, they’ll go with you to find new clothes.’

I didn’t know how he knew the hoodie wasn’t mine. But I had given up trying to figure out how Chishiya’s mind works.

Before I could ask, he spoke, catching me off guard once again. ‘Come on, Kuina’s waiting for us.’

----------------------------------------------------

That night, I had found out that Kuina and Chishiya were actually friends. Sort of. It was hard to tell. They hung around together and joked like friends, but instinctively I could tell that Kuina didn’t completely trust him. The days passed quickly, and despite the obvious tension between the militants and the other executives, I found myself actually enjoying it. It was hard not to, with hot water and all.

I spent my days pestering Chishiya to teach me Japanese properly (which he never did). And Kuina and I would chat about the real world. She told me about her mother’s sickness, and how she was desperate to get back to the old world so she could look after her properly. But when she asked about my own life, I filtered a lot of things out. I explained how I was visiting Japan with my brother, and how I had been trying to learn Japanese on and off for a few years just so that I could visit. But when it came to my personal life, I just couldn’t bring myself to talk about it.

‘話せば長くなる,’ I told her. It’s a long story.

The days seemed to dry up under the heat of the sun, and sure enough, my visa was due to expire.

Sitting cross-legged on my bed under the late afternoon rays, I couldn’t help but feel apprehensive after my last game… my first Hearts game… meeting Niragi and Aguni… the laser tag guns… the ball pit… the teenage girl. It had all collected into one big mass, and my throat tightened at the thought of the blood, the darkness.

No, I tried to tell myself. It’s different now. We’ll be put into teams, and I won’t be alone. We’ll clear the games together.

With slightly more resolve than before, I climbed off the bed and quietly left my room, only my stomach dropped when I saw the nasty surprise waiting for me on the other side of the door.

Niragi was leaning against the opposite wall, and the moment I exited, he shot me a grin. I had no idea what he was doing there, probably militant business, so I nodded at him in acknowledgement, then headed down the hall. I knew something was seriously wrong when I heard his footsteps stalking behind me.

‘Niragi,’ I greeted him.

‘Shorty,’ he replied, now walking beside me. ‘You really shouldn’t ignore people, you know. It’s rude as fuck.’

What does he want with me of all people?

‘私を待っているとは知らなかった,’ I told him honestly. I didn’t know you were waiting for me.

‘Ch, as if. I waited there for half an hour. Where the hell are you off to anyway?’

I held out my bandaged arm. ‘これがまだ痛い。だから医療室ではアンに会う.’ This still hurts, so I’m meeting An in the medical room.

Overall, it had healed pretty well. But after the laser tag game, and being kidnapped by militants, the wound had partially re-opened again.

‘I’ll go with you.’

Why??

My gut instinct was telling me to run away, far away.

We turned a corner, stopping in front of the elevators. When the doors pinged open, the group of girls inside immediately stopped talking once they laid eyes on us. They darted out of the elevator, leaving it empty for Niragi and I to enter. I tried not to feel nervous around him. If he wanted me dead, he’d have just shot me already, so it couldn’t be that.

‘どうして待っていた?’ I asked, slowly. How come you were waiting?

Asking Niragi questions felt like a life-or-death situation. Last time I was rude to him he kicked me in the spine. The man was like a loaded gun; he had to be handled with care.

However, he didn’t reply, and the lingered between us until the elevator stopped at the basement floor. We headed down a long, dark hallway, with exposed cables and pipes suspended from the ceiling. This was starting to feel like a really, really bad idea. Seeing the medical room door, I sped up instinctively, but Niragi’s hand grabbed my shoulder, pulling me back and yanking me around. The movement sent shooting pains down through my injured arm.

‘Chishiya,’ Niragi said, eyes glinting with malice. ‘You’ve become pretty chummy with him recently.’

Wait… what?

‘That’s not…’ I hated the way my voice stuttered. ‘そうじゃない.’ That’s not it….

He clearly wasn’t buying it. ‘Tell me what he’s up to. He’s an arrogant little shit and I know he’s up to something.’

Niragi’s grip was too tight, way too tight, and I could barely think straight through the pain. ‘違うよ,’ I insisted. You’re wrong.

‘Am I? I don’t think so, Shorty. You’d better tell me now before I put a bullet in you.’

I didn’t know whether I was scared or annoyed. My heart hammered in my chest, but I was getting pretty sick of his ridiculous questions. I tore away from his hold, inspecting the sleeve for any spots of blood that could’ve seeped through.

‘Stop doing that! クイナのパーカーを台無しにしたくない.’ I don’t want to ruin Kuina’s hoodie.

His brow furrowed a little at this, but I ignored it. Someone like him probably didn’t care about getting blood on his clothes.

I didn’t know how to say what I meant in Japanese, so all I could do was tell him in English. ‘You’re right about one thing. Chishiya’s awful. But you’re wrong about everything else. He can’t stand the sight of me, except when he’s watching me suffer. So even if he did have some kind of plan hatched up, he wouldn’t bother telling me.’

Niragi pulled away and stood up fully. Despite his visible irritation, he was listening all the same.

Perhaps he knows a little bit of the language?

‘And even then,’ I continued, ‘if he was planning something, why would he bother? You know as well as anyone he’s just in this for his own survival and being here at the Beach is his best shot. It wouldn’t make sense.’

A dangerous look worked its way onto his features. I thought right then and there that he’d attack me, kick me with his boot like he’d done before. But he did the exact opposite. With one hand, he twirled his fingers in a strand of my hair, before softly tucking it behind my ear.

I held my breath as he leaned in. ‘Everything you just said,’ he whispered, ‘is complete bullshit.’

Then pulling away quicker than I could flinch, he readjusted his rifle on his shoulder and took off back down the hall. Then he suddenly stopped, as if remembering something, and looked at me over his shoulder.

‘That hoodie you’re wearing… it’s Chishiya’s.’

-------------------------------------------------------

I must’ve looked like I’d seen a ghost, because when I finally entered the medical room, An immediately asked me if I was feeling ill. I tried telling her that I was perfectly fine, but she insisted on taking a bunch of tests to make sure I wasn’t going into septic shock. I couldn’t tell her that it was closer to actual shock.

Even when I finally left the medical room, I still couldn’t shake it off. Except now, the surprise had worn away, leaving sheer humiliation in its place.

Did Kuina steal it from his room?

When he met me at the bar, he must’ve seen it and wondered where I’d gotten it from. And when he had mentioned asking one of the executives to go shopping with me… he had probably assumed I’d been in his room and taken it.

Oh god…

I wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. I wanted to scream and tell him I’m sorry. I wanted to rip the hoodie off and push it as far away from me as I could. But I couldn’t. I still didn’t feel comfortable being so exposed.

‘It’s fine,’ I tried to convince myself, ‘everything’s fine.’ I got into the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor.

My visa’s due to expire tonight, so I can get a new one for myself. I’ll just explain everything to him. It’s almost game time anyway, so he might be in the lobby.

As the elevator doors opened, I wiped any tears away with my hands, careful not to dirty the sleeves, and headed to the lobby. It was packed with Beach residents, either wishing their friends luck or preparing for the games ahead. I found the little table at the front and took the slip of paper with my name on it.

Group Two.

Then I stepped back, leaning against the wall as my eyes searched the crowds. Sure enough, I spotted a white hood, the thin tendrils of grey-blond hair visible beneath. I waited until he took his slip of paper before I stepped forward.

But there was no need. His eyes locked onto mine from across the room, as if he had clocked onto my presence immediately without showing it. He trudged through the masses, coming to a stop in front of me. I couldn’t help but rub my arms nervously.

‘I’m sorry,’ I blurted out, ‘Kuina gave me this hoodie, and I assumed it was hers and that she was letting me use it. But I just found out from Niragi that it’s actually yours. I didn’t steal it or anything, and I’ve definitely never been in your room. I’m so sorry, I had no idea.’

Chishiya didn’t seem surprised at all, or if he was, he was an expert at hiding it. ‘I know,’ he said, at last. ‘You couldn’t have known where my room was anyway.’

Thinking about it, he had a point. When I started wearing this, I hadn’t even left my own room, so I couldn’t have been in Chishiya’s.

‘I guess you’re right.’

I felt his warmth against my side as he leaned on the wall next to be me. ‘But what I told you at the bar that night still stands,’ he said. ‘Tonight, you’ll get the chance to go looking for any clothes or personal items you want.’

‘Once I get some of my own clothes, I’ll wash this and give it back to you, I promise’ I told him. ‘I just need to find out who the executive in my group is.’

‘It’s me.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Because the executives create the groups,’ he said. ‘And I happen to be supervising you. Normally, when a new member arrives, we do an aptitude test. We observe them in a game to test their abilities, but I’ve already vouched for your abilities, and there were only two executives with an expiring visa.’

‘That’s….’ I trailed off, then something clicked. ‘Wait, who was the other executive?’

Ignoring my question, he went on. ‘Since I’ve already seen your abilities, your only test will be to survive. If you can do that, I’ll go with you to get whatever supplies you need.’

I tried to keep the smile from my face, but I couldn’t hold it back. ‘Sounds like a deal.’

‘Time for the games!’ a voice called out, excitedly, and the whole room erupted into cheers. The masses of Beach members piled through the doors, trying to find their assigned cars and groups.

At the same time, I hadn’t moved at all. I couldn’t keep my eyes from Chishiya’s. He was looking back into mine with that same calculating emptiness. I could see the cogs turning, but I didn’t know what they were turning for.

Then as quickly as it happened, the moment was gone as he left, disappearing into the crowd.

#alice in borderland #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x oc #chishiya x reader #chishiya alice in borderland

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heresalittlestory · 3 years

Text

The Gala Event

By The Scoop

‐-----------------------------

You’re at your desk at work one afternoon, taking a break to check your personal email. You get excited when you see that you have a message from Adam Yauch of the Beastie Boys. You’ve known him for a little over a decade, as you did some work for the Milarepa fund in the 90’s. You’re kind of surprised that you’ve casually stayed in touch with him for all of these years, and even though you’d call him more of an acquaintance than a friend, he’s always been very nice and sweet when you’ve spent time together. The last time you saw him was a few years ago, when his band was in town touring their To The 5 Boroughs album.

You see some other messages in your inbox, but click on Adam’s first. He writes that the Beastie Boys will be in your town this summer to tour their upcoming record, and wonders if you’d like to hang out then. He gives the date for the show, and refers to it a Gala Event, for which you should dress up. He says there will be another more casual show the night after, and you’re welcome to come to that one, too. You don’t want to come across as being too eager, but decide to write him back straight away that you’ll be around, and would love to see him in August.

The following week, you see a news announcement about Beastie Boys tour dates, and feel special that Adam gave you a heads up about them first. Since that message, you’ve been writing back and forth more frequently, catching each other up on how you’ve been for the past couple of years. He seems a little more communicative than he was around the time of the previous tour, and you try not to read too much into that. You’ve always thought he was very attractive, but kept things professional at first with him, and then platonic, assuming those feelings only went one way. You’ve also both been in relationships over the past decade, and Adam has a daughter, Lila. You’re not exactly sure about the current status of Adam’s relationship with Lila’s mom, as it’s not something he opens up about a lot, or that gets much attention in the press.

One day Adam sends an email asking whether you’ve picked out something nice to wear yet, and he adds a wink after the question. You feel your stomach flip, as you can’t tell whether or not he’s being flirtatious. It also reminds you that you still haven’t settled on your ensemble for the Gala. You generally don’t dress up too much and aren’t in love with anything in your closet, so decide to go shopping.

At the store, after trying on a lot of things, you settle on a red dress. The color choice seems a little bold, but you look good in red, and want to stand out from others who will probably be wearing a lot of black. You feel a little ridiculous also thinking about your undergarments, but decide to buy a new bra and panties for the show, too. Even if no one else sees them, they’ll make you feel good for that night.

As it gets closer to the date of the show, Adam calls you. You’re reminded how much you love the tone of his voice and trace of a New York accent. He mentions that the band will be busy with interviews beforehand, so he probably won’t get to see you till after the show. He says he’ll put you on his personal guest list, and to make sure you find him backstage later. You say that sounds like a plan. Before hanging up, he adds “Don’t forget to dress to impress.”

The day of the show comes, it’s a Friday, and you’re feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. You tell yourself you’re being silly and to calm down: there’s never been any funny business between you and Adam before, so why should this time be any different? You’ve been single for about a year now, but you’re still not sure of Adam’s status, and Google didn’t provide any help figuring that out. In any case, you can’t help but think that you’ve picked up on some flirtation in the correspondence, and something in your gut signals that maybe you should be expecting more than just a friendly hang out tonight.

You arrive at the venue early, and feel a sense of pride seeing your name on Adam’s list. You’re also handed an access pass to use later in the night. You make your way up toward the front of the concert hall and see Adam’s bass rig, noticing that a lot of the equipment is clear, which has a cool look. There are a few bass guitars on stage, including a large upright one. You’ve always thought Adam looked sexy on the bass, and you’re looking forward to seeing him play more of it tonight.

When the band comes out and takes their places, you spot Adam in a black suit and sunglasses, he appears very dapper. His hair is a little grown out and looks really nice. You glance at the others, and though they all look handsome in their suits, Adam Yauch definitely stands out the most to you.

The band starts playing an instrumental that sounds vaguely familiar. Adam is on the upright bass, and during the song, pulls out a bow with which to play it. You’re taken aback at how hot it is when he maneuvers the bow over the bass strings. The rich, deep sound resonates through your body.

Adam switches to another bass guitar, and the band starts playing a song off the new record. You enjoy watching Adam’s large, skillful hands on the bass. He flicks the strings a lot with his thumb, and it’s hard for your mind not to wander into the gutter seeing that repetitive motion. You look at Adam intently, wondering if you’ll catch his eye, but it’s hard to tell with the sunglasses on.

When the band begins a song with vocals, the crowd gets more pumped up, and you’re excited, too. It’s cool to see them rap while playing instruments. Adam’s bass strumming has been getting to you, and now his husky rapping is, too. After a few songs, he takes off his sunglasses and jacket. He’s wearing a short-sleeve striped shirt, and a tie with some design on it, with a tie pin. You’re trying to make the out the details on Adam’s tie, and think you see a lion on it, which reminds you that he’s a Leo. You remember back to when you once looked up your astrological compatibility, not that you entirely believe in those things. You look back up and see that Adam is staring in your direction, smiling. You mouth “hey” to him, and he nods in recognition.

You feel a small jolt of electricity as the band goes into the next instrumental. Maybe it’s something about the suave outfit and his long fingers on the bass, but you’re feeling more attracted to Adam than you’ve felt at previous Beastie Boys shows. You notice other details, like his persistent gum chewing, and how he’s been taking his ear piece in and out throughout the show. You brace yourself when the upright bass comes back out. You can’t deny that you’re turned on by the way Adam strokes the bass neck and moves his fingers across the strings. You try to calm down, as you’ll be seeing him after the show, and don’t want to feel embarrassed by such thoughts. It doesn’t help that from this close, you can see his sweat glistening.

The band gets to Sabotage, and you know it’ll be the last song of the night. You see out of the corner of your eye that their keyboardist is doing some crazy moves, but you can’t take your eyes off Adam. He takes his bass off at the end of the song and picks up a water bottle. You watch Adam wave as he walks off stage, and swear that you catch him winking at you.

As the crowd starts to file away, you get your access pass out of your purse and use it to get in the back area of the venue. You’re eventually let into a room where the band is. You admittedly feel some relief when you see that Adam’s partner (or former partner?) isn’t around, as both Mike’s and Adrock’s wives are there. Mike’s young sons are running around the room too. You’re feeling pretty dehydrated, but take a glass of champagne when a tray of it is passed by you. At least you have something to occupy your hands with now. You take some sips and try to get Adam to notice you. Your eyes meet and he wraps up the conversation he was having. He walks over to you and says, “Hey, red…,” instead of calling you by your name, “love the dress.” You blush a little and thank him. You notice he’s changed from the button down top into a polo shirt. He manages to look very cute and sexy all at once. You tell him how much you enjoyed the show and seeing the full band play throughout. “Oh thanks, you weren’t too bored? It seems like some people prefer the hip hop shows.”

You notice that the room is beginning to clear out. Adam mentions that some of the band and crew are heading to a nearby bar, “I said I’d be catching up with an old friend, if you’d rather bail on that.” You’re happy that he’s mentioned an out, though you’re not quite sure what he has in mind for you both. “Hang on a sec,” Adam says as he grabs his backpack, and also something that looks like an instrument holder, “just gonna take some things back with me.”

You step out the venue door and Adam gently touches the small of your back with his free hand. A shiver goes up your spine. Adam remarks that the hotel is nearby, so you walk the few blocks there. It’s one of the nicer hotels in town. This is the first time you’ve been back to a hotel with him. It seems like it could be the prelude to a hook up, but you still don’t want to get caught up in wishful thinking.

You and Adam get in the elevator and he pushes the button for a high floor. “And here we are,” he remarks, opening the door into a large suite. “Not too shabby,” you note, looking around. “Yeah, we do alright now,” Adam responds with a chuckle. He has the cutest sounding laugh, and you love how his smile is emphasized by his overbite. You don’t think of yourself as a very funny person, but you know that Adam can be, and you hope to joke with him and hear more of his laughter when you’re together. You realize you’ve gotten a little lightheaded from the champagne. As if reading your mind, Adam asks if you want something to eat or drink. There are several water bottles lined up on the counter, and he hands you one. He opens the door to the mini bar, which is pretty well stocked. You sit down and snack together.

The conversation flows easily enough. You share a lot of cultural interests, but also fill each other in on some things that the other hasn’t heard about. Adam recommends a documentary called the 11th hour, about how dire global warming has gotten and the opportunities we have to address the situation before it’s too late. You’re not surprised to hear him sound passionate on the topic. Meanwhile, you’re slightly distracted, as you can’t help but be really curious by now about his relationship status. He’s mentioned his daughter in emails, so you think of using kids as a way to broach the topic. You mention how you saw Mike’s sons backstage. “Oh yeah, they’ve been coming along, and Lila’s been with me some of the tour, but her mom has her now.” It sounds to you like they may not be an item anymore. All you say in response is, “Oh…,” and then Adam continues, “yeah, it’s been about a year and a half actually, things didn’t work out between us. But it was friendly, well, about as friendly as those things can be. We still live near each other in the city, and pretty much share custody, so it works out at least, in that way.” You want Adam to be happy and on the one hand, are sorry to hear that the relationship, which involved a kid, didn’t work out. But on the other hand, you feel glad, as selfish as it may be, that Adam could be available now. If he’s even interested in you in that way.

You tell him you’re sorry to hear what happened, but are glad he still gets to see Lila a lot. “Yeah, being a dad, it’s the greatest…,” he starts to say, and then trails off, looking at you as if what he said may have had some effect on you. You’re a single woman in your early 40’s, so the child-bearing window may be not open too much longer. You used to think that you’d be married and a mom by this point in your life, but after your longest, most serious relationships ended in your 30’s, you haven’t met anyone who’s been that great a prospect. Adam knows some of your story already. You don’t want to bore him with extra information about the ups and downs of your love life, so you mention that you haven’t been seeing anyone for a while, and really enjoy being an aunt to your niece and nephew.

Adam moves from the chair to a loveseat and motions for you to join him. He has his arm up on the sofa cushion, which you take as a cue to sit a little closer to him. “I was really looking forward to seeing you tonight. You know, red’s a really great color for you.” You feel his eyes scanning your body, and you’re flattered to be complimented by someone so attractive, talented, and intelligent. The conversation goes to how long you’ve known each other and how you always enjoy each other’s company. You wonder why you haven’t gotten together more often through the years. Adam’s hand moves down to your shoulder, and he seems to be looking at you more intently. He’s so gorgeous from this close, with large, soulful eyes, and full lips that you want to kiss so badly. You feel yourself flushing and swooning. You take your chances and move your face a little closer to his, and are delighted when you sense him lean in for a kiss.

Your lips touch softly at first. You detect a minty flavor, which must have lingered from his gum. You inhale and enjoy his smell, it’s slightly musky, and you think of how sweaty he got during the show. You normally prefer for guys to be cleaned up, but find it a turn on for Adam to be in this state. The kiss turns more passionate soon as your tongues meet and explore each other’s mouths.

You kiss and suck at each other more feverishly, feeling the heat from each other’s bodies. You run your hands through his thick hair, and up and down his lean back. He slides a hand down along your side, it grazes the edge of your breast and then settles on your thigh. Adam moves his hand to the inner side of your knee, just underneath your dress. You squeeze his hand between your thighs, thinking of how close his fingers are to where you really want to be touched. You usually don’t get wet as easily as you did when you were younger, but it’s like Adam has opened up the floodgates inside of you. You don’t necessarily buy into everything happening for a reason, but you’re glad you’re hooking up with Adam at this stage in your life. You feel more comfortable with yourself and sexually confident now. As much as you’re enjoying kissing Adam, you decide to back out of the embrace, and see if he’s game for something different. You’d be fine having any kind of sex with him, but you want to try to make the evening memorable. You also recall how great he looked playing the bass, and that gives you an idea.

“Is everything okay?” Adam asks. “Oh yeah, I’m good, really good,” you say, reassuring him that you’re pleased with the direction in which things are moving. “I was just thinking about the show again, and what a great bass player you are.”

“Me? I don’t know, I guess if you work at something long enough.”

You’re touched that he seems so humble about his talent. “It just looks complicated. I mean, especially that big bass. I can barely strum a few chords on the guitar.”

“It’s not so hard to pick up if you practice for a while, and…,” he trails off.

“And what?”

“Well, this might sound silly, but my hands are pretty big, which makes it easier to play, I guess.” Adam turns his hands over and you hold them in yours, as your mind moves back into the gutter. You don’t think you’ve ever been with a guy who has hands quite like his.

“Why don’t you show me?” you request, pulling Adam up from the couch. “What’s that song called, Sabrosa?”

“I don’t have the bass here with me.”

You look at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes, “I mean, demonstrate on me…”

Adam smirks in response, “Oh, I think I know what you’re getting at.” He stands behind you, and you ask, “Doesn’t Sabrosa mean tasty?”

“Something like that,” he answers with a

chuckle- it’s music to your ears to hear that laughter again. “Okay then, this is the hand that goes on the bass neck,” he states, putting his left hand on your breast. He arranges his dexterous fingers into some formation, as if he were playing bass notes. “And this one here, it plays the strings,” Adam continues, moving his right hand onto your crotch. He brushes his long fingers against you, as if he’s both swiping at and strumming you. Just as you’re wondering what kind of fuckery this is, Adam says, “And sometimes, you have to put your whole body into it.” He presses against you, and you feel his cock pulse against your backside. You can’t help but tremble from the ripples of pleasure coursing through you. Adam comments, “well, it goes something like that, playing the song, but the bass doesn’t move quite that much.” He giggles again. You didn’t want him to stop “playing” you, but you enjoy being teased.

“You know, I actually brought something with me,” Adam starts, and goes over to what you thought was an instrument case. He opens it and reveals the bow inside. If he doesn’t have his bass with him, you wonder why he brought the bow. You’re pleased at the forethought this would have required, and that his mind might be in the same kinky place as yours. “I like using this bow sometimes, you can get a really nice sound out of the bass with it.” Adam comes back over to you, gripping the bow as if he were about to use it on a bass. He rubs the bow string back and forth on your dress, right over your sensitive area. You make a pleased hum, and Adam brings the bow across you one more time, “Works like a charm.”

“I think you need to help me unzip my dress now,” you state. “Sure thing,” Adam replies, placing the bow back down. He undoes your zipper, but the dress still hangs loosely from your hips. “Maybe I can use this again,” Adam says, picking up the bow. You stand still as he uses the bow to nudge the dress down over your hips. Your breath quickens and you step out of the dress. You’re glad now that you splurged for the nice underwear. Adam eyes you up and down and gives a little whistle, “well you dressed to impress, and I’d say, this is also undressing to impress.” Your body isn’t as slim as it used to be, but you’re still in decent shape for your age. You’re glad he seems to appreciate you as you are.

“I think it’s your turn now,” you declare, and Adams removes his shirt and pants pretty quickly. He’s remained trim, but that doesn’t surprise you, as he’s always been a skinny guy. Seeing all his skin, and body hair, makes your groin ache even more. You get another idea, which seems a little crazy for foreplay, but you’re on a roll, and decide to speak up again. “Let’s go to the bedroom,” you declare, as you lead Adam by the hand to the king-sized bed. You tell him to lie on his back. You stand over him and strip off your bra and underwear. “I want to feel you all over, with my cunt,” you say, as you lower yourself down near his feet, “if you’re cool with that.” Adam looks at you expectantly and replies, “I’m game for whatever.”

You’re not quite sure what’s come over you. You realize you’ve had latent feelings for Adam for years, and they’re all bubbling to the surface now. And he’s so hot it’s like he’s awakened some primal instinct in you. Sure, you’ve humped guys’ thighs before when feeling frisky, or rubbed an arm against your crotch, but you’ve never done anything like what you’re planning now. You grab one of Adam’s feet, they’re large like his hands, with long toes. “So, do you have a foot thing?” Adam asks.

“No,” you blush a little, feeling kind of embarrassed, but Adam seems open-minded enough. “As I said, I just want to feel all your parts- here.” You take hold of his big toe, and move it toward your crotch. Adam’s propped up on his elbows and watching with interest. You press his toe against your labia, and rock back and forth against it. “Someone’s very wet,” Adam comments. You think how you’ll be leaving a trail along his body. You hold his foot as you move over his ankle, and then slowly slide up his shin, feeling his leg hair against you. You ask Adam to bend his legs so you can get onto his knee. “Knee fucking? Can’t say I’ve done that before,” Adam remarks, laughing again. Not in a laughing at you kind of way, but in an enjoying being your partner in crime kind of way.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.” You feel kind of proud for debasing him, considering that he probably did some debauched things in his early years with the band. You move in small circles around his knee. You feel so wet and pliable, almost as if your cunt could swallow his kneecap. You’re in a nice zone where everything feels really good between your legs.

You continue with this body part exploration, sliding down his thigh. Adam’s boxers are still on and you can tell he’s semi-erect. As eager as you are to bring his cock into action, you move past it. You dip down to reach his concave torso, rubbing along the patch of hair that extends from over his waistband to above his navel. You feel the bump from his ribcage, and rub over a nipple as you move up. You ask Adam to sit up, admiring his bare shoulders. You lower yourself onto the bony part, and press against it for a while.

Adam has been watching you with bemusement. You get off his shoulder and position his arm so that his elbow juts out. You pull that protrusion into your crotch, liking how that feels as well. You’re excited to be getting close to his forearms, as you were looking at them with desire during the concert. You ask Adam to lie back down and move on top of one of his forearms. His arm hairs tickle your cunt as your slickness slides against him. You love how he’s not hairy all over but has furry forearms and legs. You feel kind of like a dog humping at him, but don’t care as it’s so pleasurable. Adam’s free hand grabs your ass. You move lower down to reach his wrist bone, too.

You get up and hold onto one of his oversized hands. You feel like your cunt could just devour it. You rub your thumb along the patch of hair that extends onto the back of his hand, and then press a few of Adam’s knuckles into your folds. You then grasp his index and middle fingers. You notice a crook in the top joint of his middle finger. These little features somehow make you hornier for him, if that’s even possible. You shove his fingers into your soaking cunt, and moan as you feel how deep inside of you they reach. Adam continues to let you be the driver; you know that he could make you come if he did something with his hands, but you’re still trying to delay that final gratification. You take his fingers out and bring them up to his mouth. You’re pleased that he reads the cue and licks at your wetness.

You motion for Adam to sit up, and brush his hair back to look more closely at his ear. Even the size and shape of this man’s ears get to you. You’ve never been so into all these details with any other guy before. It’s like he’s a perfectly beautiful creation. You position Adam’s head so you can get at his ear with your cunt, starting at the earlobe and working your way up along the outer edge. Adam shivers a little and you ask if he’s alright.

“Yeah, I guess I’m just sensitive there- a good sensitive.” You press against the ridge of his ear again and he emits a soft, low grunt.

You ask Adam to lie down once again. You’re still studying what a gorgeous face he has. You move your fingertip gently across his long eye lashes. “Yo, I’m not sure that’ll work,” Adam comments, and you both start laughing. “Okay, we’ll leave your eyes out of this,” you say, though catch him off guard as you move your groin over his hairline. You’ve been admiring his hair all evening, it looks adorable now sticking up in different directions. You feel its texture along your most intimate spots. You then position yourself above Adam’s nose- his lovely nose, with its long, strong line, and small bump near the top. Adam takes a big inhale and you gently ride his nose. You hit against his upper lip, but surprise him again by hopping off before getting to all of his mouth. “I’m moving here now,” you remark, as you sit back against the pillows and spread your legs, finally beckoning Adam to have his way with you.

“You know, I just remembered, I have one more thing in the case,” Adam says. You’re so ready for more now, but you wait as he goes into the other room to get whatever’s in the case. He comes back into the bedroom with his ear piece from the concert, dangling around his neck. That ear piece, that you watched him keep pulling out and pushing in, being turned on by the motions. Adam stands at the foot of the bed and takes off his underwear. You don’t always get that excited over the sight of a man’s cock, viewing it as more of a utilitarian appendage, but of course Adam’s looks just as nice as the rest of his body does.

“Maybe I should have gotten this out earlier, you’re probably too wet for it now,” Adam remarks, holding up one end of the ear piece. He continues, “I’ve got a spare, of course, but I don’t know what I’d tell the crew about how I wrecked this pair,” he laughs a little more. Adam comes onto the bed and rubs the ear piece along your leg, moving it up to your inner thigh. Once again, you’re thankful and pleased that he’s also had kinky ideas. The ear piece reaches the top of your thigh, then Adam places it in between your collar bones. He slides it down between your breasts, and stops above your crotch. You’re thinking how turned on you’d be if he pressed it against you there, but he touches with his finger and says, “yeah, too wet, as I knew, maybe another time.” At the mention of “another time,” it feels like your heart skips a beat.

You ask, “did you have anything else in that case?”

“Nah, that was it. I’d considered bringing a bass pick, too, but thought it could be a little too sharp,” and you both laugh together. You like how you can move seamlessly between funny and erotic moments with him. “Well, these look really soft,” you say, moving your fingers along his lips. Your cunt quivers as you trace his bow-shaped upper lip.

Adam places the ear piece on the night stand and brushes his slim fingers along your inner thighs. Then he brings his mouth to your thighs- kissing, licking, and taking little bites along the way. You’re so turned on already you feel like you might come almost as soon as his mouth touches your cunt. He’s taking his time getting to the sweet spot. He licks along where your thigh meets your groin on both sides. He then moves up and squeezes your breasts together. He starts sucking on one nipple while grabbing the other breast, and switches off. Your whole body feels on fire. Then he moves back down and kisses your labia, finally getting between them. When he starts licking and sucking at your depths, it feels amazing. You cry out in ecstasy, only wondering for a moment how soundproof the hotel walls are. You mutter “oh fuck” and “oh god” as Adam continues to satisfy you. He looks up at you, and it’s nearly too intense to meet his gaze. You grab a handful of his luscious hair as he buries his head in you again, and you rock against him. You sense the sweet release coming soon, and convulse as all the pleasure that’s been building up through the evening reaches a crescendo. You feel like you’re seeing stars.

As you slowly come back to your senses, Adam remarks, “well, I guess that worked out better than the ear piece.” You respond, “or the bass pick,” and playfully shove his shoulder. “You’ve really been great,” you say, placing your hand on his erect cock, “can I do something for you now?”

“Don’t worry about me, I’ve been loving all this so far, and now I’m really ready to fuck you.”

You repeat his phrase about “another time,” and he smiles. He kneels in front of you, asking “you okay, doing it like this?” You tell him you’re on the pill, and it’s fine to proceed. You’re not even sure how functional your ovaries still are, but you’ve stayed on the pill, and trust Adam otherwise.

He doesn’t waste any time penetrating you fully, and it feels so good to be filled up by his length. As he starts moving in and out, you notice him glancing down to where the action is happening, and you think it’s hot that he’s looking. He holds onto and adjusts your legs, and begins thrusting more aggressively, emitting some low grunts. And you get noisy again as his cock hits against your deepest part. Adam tells you how great you feel. You close your eyes for a time, enjoying all the sensations.

Adam then slows the rhythm down and lies more directly on top of you. It’s nice to feel his weight. He looks into your eyes and it seems like it’s just the two of you on this planet. “I really like you,” he says, emphasizing the “really.” Your eyes tear up- you don’t want to appear too emotional- but can’t help it. One tear escapes, and Adam wipes it with his thumb, “It’s okay now.”

“It’s just, me too, I mean, I really like you, too,” you say back to him, feeling tongue-tied. The mood had recently been more playful and sexy, but you don’t mind this sentimental turn. You feel good and safe with Adam. And here you are, with him inside of you, hearing that he really likes you. You can’t deny that you’ve had interest in him over the years. Even when you were with other guys, you still occasionally thought about Adam, but never considered it a possibility that your friendship could go to another level. Maybe it could now. You don’t know if you just have this one night together, but you’re going to savor the moment while it lasts.

You kiss, and Adam’s tongue probes your mouth, just as his cock fills you deeply. He nibbles on your lip, and your cunt clenches around him. You grind into each other, with your breath hot against each other’s ears. You put your hand on his ass, like you want to press him even further into you. You wish to meld into one.

Adam rises back up into a kneeling position. He starts rubbing your clit in time with his movements. It’s almost too much to bear, and you sputter, “oh fuuuck…Adam.” You can see he’s happy that he’s turned you into a noisy, squirming mess. The pleasure grows into a final explosive burst, and Adam clasps one of your hands, as if to steady you.

You brace yourself to continue fucking; it feels like he’s already excavated a small cave inside of you. You’re not surprised at his stamina after witnessing his energy on stage. While you’re kind of tired, you go on moving your body in rhythm with his. His thrusting picks up in intensity, and then you feel his cock twitch inside of you as he lets out a raspy moan. He lowers his face to yours, and you kiss. He pushes into you a couple more times, and you delight in the warmth between your legs.

After he rolls off of you, you turn onto your side and move a hand to his small patch of chest hair, as he holds his arm around you. You breathe in his scent, feeling very satisfied. “I guess it’s a little late for me to go back now,” you say. Adam squeezes you and replies, “oh, you’re not going anywhere.” You think of how you haven’t brought anything for staying the night, but aren’t too concerned.

You ask, “So was this Gala a special enough event?” Adam smiles and answers, “For sure, it surpassed my expectations.” You lift your head to give him some soft, lingering kisses before cuddling against him again.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Adam begins, “but I usually like showering off after a gig, it’s not to do with you.”

“Oh, that’s okay, I was just going to use the bathroom-”

“Go ahead, I’ll go in after you.”

You get up to go to the bathroom, and think how you could join Adam in the shower. So after he takes his turn in the bathroom, you go in the shower together. You don’t expect anything else to happen at this hour after everything you’ve done, but it’s nice to be naked with him under the warm water. You stand in front of Adam as he lathers you up, slightly teasing you with his touch. You return the favor, and then face each other and kiss, with your bodies pressed tightly together.

After stepping out of the shower, you see two bathrobes hanging on the door hook. You put one on, and give the other to Adam, who giggles, and says, “oh, like his and hers?” He looks so adorable in the white bathrobe. “You can use my toothbrush, you know,” Adam offers. As intimate as you’ve been with him, you still feel a little funny taking his brush, so you say you’ll be fine, and just use your finger.

When you get back into the bedroom, Adam gets out a pair of pajamas and hands you the top, “we can split them.” You pull the shirt over your head as he slides into the pajama pants. You admire his build again, and blush a little thinking of how you were rubbing yourself all over him. You hope he doesn’t think you’re nuts, but he seemed to be into everything you were doing. Also, he’s the one who rubbed a bow across you.

While you’re drowsy, your mind is racing with thoughts about how much you like Adam, and wondering where things will go from here. You don’t want to go back to seeing him every few years on tour. You wonder if something will change now. You’re only a few hours from New York, so could see each other more often. You ponder whether he’s ready for a relationship after the break up. You’d even look forward to spending time with Lila, but know that’s getting way ahead of yourself. This is a start, and you’ll have to see what happens.

You get back into bed with Adam, in the spooning position. “Again, it was such a great night,” he tells you.

“You don’t think I’m crazy, I mean, that stuff I was doing?” You can’t help but be somewhat blunt to try to put the worries out of your mind.

“Sexy? Yes. Crazy? No. Besides, if you’re crazy, I guess that makes two of us.” You’re content with that answer. Adam continues, “I don’t have to be anywhere till later in the afternoon tomorrow, so we can have some more fun the first part of the day.” You tell him that sounds good, and say goodnight to each other. You drift off to sleep, anticipating what the new day will bring.

#beastie boys #nswf fanfiction #the scoop

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