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wildemaven · 2 years ago

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until now, until you : part one | javier peña

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Summary: You meet a handsome stranger in a bar, both of you agreeing on certain terms as the evening goes on— no names, no strings attached, no commitments. What could go wrong— or right?

WC: 4020

Warnings: 18+ Blog: Smoking, Alcohol consumption, heavy flirting, smut!!, fingering, protected p in v, nipple play, consent is sexy, reader has zero descriptive features

A/N: I’m deranged and don’t know what happened with this. But I love it and I’m so excited to share more!! Big big thanks to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for continuously listening to this wildness with Javi and correcting all of my mistakes!!

Series Masterlist / Playlist / Main Masterlist

The dimly lit bar wasn’t as crowded as you would have thought for a Saturday night. Its revolving variety of music and drinks paired with the ostentatious haze that accompanied the flicker of candles decorating the tables, it made the perfect backdrop to unwind and people watch.

From your seat at the bar, you had a great view of the somewhat upscale space. Cushioned high back leather chairs lined the cherry oak bar top, a few chairs provided comfort for a few guests as they faced the array of liquor bottles, watching the bartenders move about mixing elaborate cocktails when requested. Semi-circular booths covered in a rich velvety green fabric lined the opposite wall, each table reserved by a group of ecstatic friends enjoying a small celebration or couples seeking a private spot to lounge in close quarters.

Your eyes occasionally scanned the room as you sipped the lemony concoction that was recently placed in front of you, the bartender insisting it was a popular drink among regulars, observing the quiet conversations and unfamiliar faces, contemplating over how your evening had turned from a blind date with zero promise of a future, to you now sitting alone in a bar.

The night was still young when your date and you had come to the conclusion early on that there was zero compatibility between you two. Not wanting your evening or your outfit to go to waste, letting your stilettos do the thinking and guide you to the nearest place in hopes to turn your night around.

Every so often you find yourself fixated on the handsome man sitting two chairs from your seat, dark chestnut hair styled with some care, a perfectly trimmed mustache framed his upper lip— the perfect addition to his devastatingly gorgeous features.

His gaze was heavily focused on the amber liquid, whiskey if you had to guess, that he swirled around in the crystal glass.

In between his own sipping, he’d take a drag off of his lit cigarette. His plush lips wrapped around the tiny tobacco stick with such ease. You were mesmerized by the way his cheeks sucked in with each pull, accentuating his sharp cheekbones. He seems like a seasoned smoker, letting the smoke ruminate through his airways before tilting his head back and blowing the vapor through his gorgeous pursed lips, making an effort to keep it from settling around those sitting within close proximity to him.

You had clocked him pretty quickly on his arrival, the crisp Texas evening air billowing through the room as the heavy wooden door swung closed the second he stepped into the bar. Your attention was captured by the unfussiness of this mysterious man, dressed in dark blue jeans and a red button up— an attire meant for a more casual setting, but he looked like he was seeking something more than a dive bar could offer.

He had sauntered his way up to the counter in the most Texas way possible, the heels of his palms resting on the edge of the bar counter as he eased himself into the unoccupied chair two seats over. Your breath catching when his eyes lock with yours, offering a smile and a nod before taking a seat and signaling for the bartender.

Majority of your evening was spent stealing brief glances, memorizing every little detail of his beautiful face, while trying to muster up the strength to have a conversation with him. You weren’t looking for anything serious, but he definitely seemed like he could potentially liven up the rest of your evening— your brain muddled with a deep attraction and desire to be closer to this man.

A streak of adrenaline streaming through your system had you feeling bold and confident about your approach, hoping you weren’t coming on too strong in your efforts.

“Would it be okay if I bummed one of those off of you?” Pointing at the red and white packet of cigarettes, leaning forward in his direction.

He looks down at the pack, then back to you, his chair swiveling in your direction as he holds out the small box and lighter. You pluck one of the untouched sticks out, placing the butt of it between your lips— not missing the way he watches intensely at how your mouth holds the smoke, eyes constantly flicking back and forth from your lips to your eyes.

You watch as your thumb flicks vigorously at the lighter, each attempt failing to produce the little flame you so desperately needed to pull off this moment. He must have sensed your frustration, sliding his glass in your direction and his knee knocking into yours as he sits down in the chair next to yours.

“Here, let me.” He says, taking a hold of the lighter in your hand, his thumb deftly striking the spark wheel and holding the ignition tab.

The flame flickers about at the end of the cigarette, a glow washes over your face as you focus on the long drag of air through the cigarette, the end beginning to form a glowing fiery ember.

You’re not really sure of the exact process, but you try to play it off like you have definitely had this before. It burns as the smoke settles in the back of your throat, immediately expelling the smoke from your mouth in a few short coughs, waving off the lingering haze floating through the air as you try to downplay the assault on your lungs.

“First time?” His brows furrowed, concerned about your little suffocating mishap, three fingers bringing his glass up to his lips, his throat tensing as he swallowed down the rest of his drink.

You mirror his actions, washing down the residual nicotine on your tongue, wishing it was water to help with the lingering burn.

“What gave it away?” You say, twirling the stem of your glass between your fingers.

He takes another drag, deciding you hate how sexy he looks doing it, but you don’t want him to stop because it’s making you feel a sort of way each time he does it. Silently torturing yourself with all the ways you would love to see his mouth work— on you.

“The choking was a dead giveaway.” You both laugh together at how right he is.

“Guilty! You just looked so— attractive over there with yours, I figured I’d give it a shot. Lesson learned. Here, do you want the rest of it?” Holding out the smoldering cigarette to him. “Plus, they say they’re bad for you— so I guess my lack of experience isn’t such a bad thing.”

He laughs again, grabbing the cigarette from you and placing it in an ashtray, then focusing back on you as he props and elbow up on the counter.

“You get stood up?” He asks.

“Straight to the point. What makes you think I got stood up?”

“A beautiful woman, dressed like that, sitting alone in a bar— a man would be stupid to see you and leave without you on his arm. So, I’m assuming he never saw you to begin with?” He’s confident in his assessment.

He thinks I’m beautiful? Evening not wasted.

“Actually, I was on a date— set up by a friend who’s determined to find me someone to settle down with.”

“That bad then?”

“No, he was a great guy, almost too great. But we wanted different things, and decided it was best if we just ended the dinner early before we went any further.” You explained with complete transparency.

As you shift yourself in the seat, your foot brushes up against his leg as you cross your legs. You catch the way his thumb slowly skims over his bottom lip, intently watching your foot slide up and down the length of his calf, his eyes then returning to you. Even in the middle of this dimly lit room, you can see the desire sparking in his warm brown eyes.

“Different? How so?”

“He wanted a potential wife.”

“And you?”

Your teeth catch your bottom lip as you contemplate the answer you want to give him, and gauging by how enthralled he is, leaning closer into your space, it’s fair to assume the attraction is mutual.

“Nothing serious— no strings attached. Just a fun evening to let off steam and then go about our merry way.” You tell him, as you prop yourself up onto the counter, the distance between you gets smaller and smaller.

His response is a low hum, jaw ticking to the side and an eyebrow cocked upward as he contemplates your suggestion. He finds you very attractive and likes the suggestion of no strings attached— he’s not looking for anything serious either, so maybe a night of indulging is just what he needs too.

He studies the way your body responds to his touch, placing a hand on your exposed knee that is situated between his legs, thumb drawing light circles over your now pebbled skin. He doesn’t miss the small gasp you let out as hand inches over your thigh, exploring how soft you feel under his callused hands.

If you could, you’d will your body to come right now. This prequel to what you hope to be amazing foreplay, has your body buzzing with anticipation, craving more of whatever he’s willing to give.

Confidence erupting through your body, you decide that one night with this handsome man is a very good idea. Waving down the nearest bartender to close out your tab, leaving a more than generous tip, has things in motion.

Hopping down from the bar stool, downing the rest of your drink in one final gulp before grabbing your clutch and turning to the man still seated, awaiting your signal. You take a move out of his playbook, placing your hand on his denim clad thigh, slowly sliding up towards his groin— he exhales deeply when you boldly brush your fingers against the growing bugle within the confines of his jeans.

“I think we both know where this is going…” You say, your lips ghosting over his ear, hand slowly sliding off of his leg as you move around him, heels clicking against the floor as you head towards the bathroom.

Looking back over your shoulder, he’s watching your every move, giving him a sultry wink and adding a little more sway to your hips as you walk down the shadowy hallway— missing him throw a few bills on the countertop before stubbing out the rest of his cigarette and finishing his drink in a hastily manner.

You release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding as you step into the bathroom. Nowhere to set your clutch, you toss it into the oversized sink, then bracing your body against the washing basin as your brain catches up to what is about to happen if that beautiful stranger walks through that bathroom door.

Not just a simple one night stand, but a one night stand with someone you had only laid eyes on 30 minutes prior.

There was a small part of you that was nervous about the thought of sleeping with someone you knew absolutely nothing about— but it was only a small part of you. The other part was completely eager, an excitement stirring within you, so turned on by the fact that you were about to have the most amazing night in a long time.

You give yourself a once over in one of the many framed mirrors, different shapes and sizes, hung above the sink— grateful in your choice of a silky shift dress, the fabric draping over your curves perfectly.

It’s an impulsive move, but a daring one as you rid yourself of your lace underwear, confidence continuing to build as the seconds tick on, carefully stepping out of them and stuffing them into your clutch.

A light knock on the door grabs your attention, one quick look at your reflection before turning to open the door. You’re met with a rush of air. Bodies colliding, gripping and pulling, strong hands providing stability in a synchronized flow of hasty movements as your back collides with the cool brick wall. Lungs exerting a passionate strain, as you look at the handsome stranger pressed against you. His eyes search for any sign of hesitancy on your face, slowly closing the distance between the two of you.

The room is quiet once the lock is set, shared breaths drowning out the world existing on the other side of the door.

“Are you sure you want this? Tell me to stop and I’ll walk right back out there, no questions asked.” His words fan across your face, hot and honeyed as he seeks your consent to continue.

“Yes! I want this— I want you.” You purr with conviction. His chest is firm beneath your touch, fingers settling into his thick rich brown hair.

You gasp into his parted lips when you feel one of his hands cup your unclothed cunt, the skirt of your dress bunched over your hips. His other arm is quick to wrap around your waist, aiding in the support of your now shaky legs.

“Were you planning on this happening?” He asks as his deft fingers begin to swipe through your wet folds.

“No— but it seemed like too good of an opportunity to pass up.” You say between staggered rapid breaths.

“And what if I turned you down?” His hand stills, the question hanging in the air as he observes your nearly blissed out expression.

You're not quite sure what happened to your usual demure self, and frankly you don’t mind that she is taking a backseat to this exhilarating situation unfolding.

“I would have gone home and gotten myself off thinking about how handsome you looked sitting there at the bar. If it’s too much of a challenge, my hands are more than capable of handling this when I get hom—“

There’s a mixture of fierceness and purpose behind his heady work, your words forgotten as his mouth crashes against yours in a mess of greedy lips and ardent nips.

He continues to kiss you with a fervent effort, swallowing the mewling whine that escapes your throat when his two fingers slide exquisitely into your velvety heat. His chest rumbles as your walls immediately clench around him, your body already on the precipice of an intoxicating payoff that it takes only a few swipes of his thumb over your sensitive clit to have you coming all over his hand.

“Oh fuck!”

There’s a steady buzz of desire burning through you, your head falling back against the wall, mind reeling over the way this man was able to pull you apart with measured precision on his part. You would be lying if you said you were not looking forward to what else he was able to do with the rest of his extremities.

His warm mouth latches onto your open neck. Blood rushing to the surface of your skin as he sucks and bites along your collarbone, his tongue soothing over the surface as he continues his quest for more of you.

“I didn’t get your name.” He states as he halts his movements.

His hair is a tousled mess and you can’t help but admire how gorgeous he is up close. The aurous flecks in his irises, visible even in the soft glow of this bathroom. A flush forming on the apples of his cheeks, the rosy coloring is perfect with his golden skin. His lips are a little fuller, tactile and tempting in their plushness.

“I didn’t give it.” You muse, brushing the fallen hair off of his forehead. “No names. No strings attached. No commitments. We just enjoy what’s happening and then you and I leave this bar with just a memorable time together— is that okay?”

“Yeah.”

It’s another blurred rush of motions, now pushed up against the sink facing the wall of ornate mirrors. You watch through one of them as he rips open a condom wrapper in record time, hands hurried as he works it over his hard length.

“You sure still want this?” He asks once more, his chest flush against your back, the head of his cock notching at your weeping entrance.

“Y-yes— Please!”

He slowly sinks into you, your moans mingle about in the confined space as he stills to let you adjust to him, his grip firm on your hips as you hold steady to the sides of the sink.

“I’m gonna move, okay?” His voice is rough against your ear. You manage to nod in response, your brain too dazed at the sensation of his cock inside of you.

The echoing of his hips slamming into you fills the room, the drag and thrust of his length hits that sweet spot— eliciting a high pitched sigh from somewhere deep inside of you.

“Fuck! That feels so good!” Your jaw goes slack, as he continues to punch through your aroused cunt.

His hands begin to wander around. One still firm against your hip, holding your bunched dress out of the way, while the other settles under your breast, oscillating between kneading at the weight of it and pinching at your pebbled nipple— triggering your muscles to grip him tighter as he does it.

His breath is hot on your neck, forehead resting against the side of your head.

“You’re so beautiful— the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.” Words freely fall from his lips. There’s weight to them, your stomach dropping as he continues to praise you in the most endearing way.

You manage to open your eyes in your pleasured haze, his eyes already locked on you and they don’t falter. This isn’t what you expected going into this, to feel anything aside from an amazing kiss and a good orgasm, but this pure infatuation has begun to creep up into your chest. He’s looking at you with an intensity that far exceeds anything you’ve ever been on the receiving end of— your body craving more of it.

Your body begins to tense, your cunt clamping down as a lustrous arousal blooms at your core. A surge of heat licks at the base of your spine, you feel yourself beginning to tip over the edge.

“Oh god! I’m— I’m gonna come!”

“I got you— I got you. Go ahead, let go.” He nods to your reflection as draws delicate circles over your clit, coaxing the final push needed to reach euphoric heights.

“Shit! Fu— hnngh!” He moans as the pulsating grip on his dick has him finishing right behind you, his warm spend filling the condom.

He continues to hold you against him as his movements halt, pressing a trail of tender kisses from your shoulder to the sensitive spot behind your ear, then his gaze focuses back to where you’re still watching him in the mirror.

“You okay?”

“Yeah— more than okay!” Still trying to catch your breath, your skin tingling in a post carnal delight.

The room is filled with silence, the excitement at a low simmer now as he pulls out of you, ridding himself of the condom as you begin to search for your discarded underwear.

Situating his jeans back onto his narrow hips and fastening his leather belt, all ready to head back out to the now bustling bar when he catches the way you stumble trying to step into your lace underwear.

“Here, let me help you.” He says, kneeling down to help.

“It’s okay— I just need a minute for my sea legs to get back to normal.”

He chuckles softly, grabbing your undergarment allowing you to properly step into them while you steady yourself with the sink edge. He slowly slides them up your legs, fingers lightly grazing over your skin and glancing up to you as he does so, then positioning them just right, your dress falling when he removes his hands from you.

“Thank you.” You say as you turn to look at yourself in the mirror, your usual timid demeanor now taking over your senses.

A stillness hangs between you for a moment, neither of you really sure how to feel about what just happened. There was a spark building between you, a yearning for something more than you agreed on.

“I’m gonna head out then I guess. This was fun— I had a great time with you.” He said, chewing at his bottom lip, tapping his knuckles against the porcelain surface of the sink.

“Yeah— me too. Thank you for this— I really needed it.” Holding your purse tightly in front of you, nervously picking at the tiny beads that decorate it.

Taking a few short steps toward where you’re standing, the space between your bodies disappears, his hand cups your face as his lips begin to move over yours without hesitation. You hold his arms, allowing his proficient tongue to meld over yours. It’s passionate and all-encompassing— and there’s an unreasonable part of you that wants to kiss him for an eternity.

You’re not sure how long it lasts, long enough to crave more and not enough to be disappointed when he pulls away.

He rests his forehead against yours, then slowly backs away towards the door, giving you one last look before heading out and the door closing behind him.

You groan in frustration, smacking your clutch into your face as you try to compose your blurred thoughts about what had just transpired— most of them about the nameless man who you will most likely never see again.

The bar is now filled to its max capacity, music levels lifted to accommodate the lively atmosphere. You hang up the pay phone tucked in the corner and head in the direction of the front door. Dancing bodies make it difficult to shuffle your way through, but you manage and welcome the cool air as you step out onto the sidewalk.

A breeze blows through as you wait by the curb, wishing you had an extra layer to shield you from the wind.

“Hey!” A familiar voice says, prompting you to turn in the direction it was coming from.

The handsome stranger, his boots scuffing against the ground as he walks to where you were waiting, giving you ample time to admire him under the glow of the full moon, now noticing the dimple that pairs with the casual smile he gives you.

“Hi.” You smile brightly at him, a nervousness washing over you as he stands there with his hand on his hips.

“You need a ride home? My pickup is parked over there— I don’t mind getting you to where you need to go.” He points back in the direction of the parking lot, his nervous rambling is endearing.

You tilt your head as you let his words resonate around in your mind. You want nothing more than for him to take your hand and guide you to his truck, holding your hand and the door open as you carefully climb into the cab. To watch his profile as he focuses on the road ahead, while some sweet country song about falling in love with a stranger at a bar drifts from the speakers. For him to walk you to your front door so you can both stand there awkwardly, unsure of what to do or say as the night comes to an end. To feel his lips once more before he tells you to have a good night and he’d love to see you again.

“That would go against the no strings attached part of our deal though.” You explain lightly, the crunching tires of your cab coming to a stop grabs your attention. “This is me. Thank you again— I really had a great night with you.” You lean in and kiss his cheek before turning and getting into the cab.

“‘Night Handsome.” You say to him as you shut the door and the driver pulls away from the curb.

He waves you off as the cab drives away, a small part of him hoping this isn’t the last time he sees you.

#Javier Peña #javier peña x you #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x female reader #javier peña x reader #pedro pascal #wildemaven writes #until now until you series #pedrostories

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cleverhottubmiracle · 3 months ago

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The lush green fields, scattering of farm buildings and 12th-century splendour of nearby Coombe Abbey that surround the small village of Ansty in Warwickshire are a long way from the neon football boots, giant mugs and piles of tracksuit bottoms of Sports Direct’s busy stores.But the two worlds will soon meet. On Christmas Eve the sports fashion chain’s owner, Frasers Group, received an early festive gift: planning permission to build a 371,600-square-metre headquarters near Ansty. The vast development — which will host a hotel, shop and recreational facilities for its 7,600 workers — puts the business on a collision course with concerned local people and thousands of existing staff who the Unite union say are unlikely to be able to move from its current East Midlands head office.The plans for Antsy are a typical shock and awe move for Mike Ashley, who owns 73 percent of Frasers. Over four decades, the billionaire has built a reputation as a relentless deal-maker who has seen off a string of powerful rivals to become the de facto king of the high street and an enigmatic figure whose motives are frequently guessed at.However, with Frasers recently ejected from the FTSE 100, cutting profit forecasts and Ashley thwarted in an attempt to join the board of the online retailer Boohoo, are there signs his disparate empire is beginning to creak?From Squash to ShopsAshley may no longer have a seat on the Frasers board, but by many accounts, which are denied by the company, he still calls the shots at the group he built from a single sports store in Maidenhead, opened in 1982 with £10,000 from his parents.He left school at 16 with no qualifications to become a squash pro and, although that did not work out because of injury, he can now be consoled with an estimated fortune of almost £3.8 billion ($4.9 billion), according to last year’s Sunday Times rich list.His group has grown to about 1,500 stores across 20 countries and employs 30,000 people with brands selling sofas to luxury casualwear, gyms and personal finance.The far-reaching collection of interests, typically collected through deals for distressed assets, has been amassed at breathless pace. In only the past three months, Frasers warred with Boohoo, launched and ditched a cut-price bid for the Norwegian sporting goods chain XXL, bought South Africa’s Holdsport, and paid £53.5 million to take ownership of the site near Ansty.Last year, Frasers attempted a hostile buyout of the luxury bag brand Mulberry and snapped up a string of down-at-heel shopping malls in Luton, Doncaster and Exeter.Frasers’ array of brands — from Evans Cycles to Flannels — enables it to use its scale to make ailing companies more viable.The group also has an ever-changing portfolio of stakes in listed companies that now runs from the electrical goods retailers Currys, AO and Marks Electrical to the fashion groups Asos, Hugo Boss and Mulberry.The £100 Million PrizeA series of controversies have often threatened to derail Frasers’ relentless expansion. Only this month MPs raised concerns about the group’s recent admission that two-thirds of its retail staff were on zero-hours contracts and three-quarters of its warehouse staff were still agency workers, putting the company squarely in the sights of new legislation that aims to improve employment rights for the least well-off.The high level of agency workers has concerned Unite, which also hopes to secure a boost to pay for staff. Frasers pays above the legal minimum wage but still lags behind some rivals.Ashley is no stranger to such controversies — from the early days of his company’s flotation when it emerged he had played a game of spoof over a hefty legal bill — to winning a bruising court battle with the former adviser Jeff Blue over the apparent promise of a £15m bonus, during which he described himself as a “power drinker”. Frasers’ Shirebrook headquarters in Derbyshire was described by MPs as a “Victorian workhouse” in 2016. As the owner of Newcastle United, he went from hero to hate figure over decisions including the temporary renaming the football club’s historic St James’ Park stadium the Sports Direct Arena.Today, Frasers is officially run by Ashley’s 35-year-old son-in-law, Michael Murray, who signed up with the promise of a £100 million bonus should he be able to take Frasers share price to £15 by October this year. It currently stands at less than half that — and has fallen 27 percent in the last six months — so pursuing potentially tricky takeover deals is not a surprise.“[Murray] always needed to make quite big leaps to get the share price up there, and the incentive encourages more risk-taking,” one analyst says.However, Murray’s strategy is in line with that laid down by his acquisitive father-in-law.Buying brands and acquiring the rights to distribute them has long been part of his playbook and key to Ashley’s dominance of the sportswear market, pushing out major rival JJB and putting pressure on JD Sports.He started with the ageing brands Donnay and Dunlop Slazenger and is now a shareholder in the fashion label Hugo Boss. The buyout of Flannels in 2012 helped build relationships with luxury labels and a much more upmarket world than his then largely cut-price Sports Direct. On buying House of Fraser in 2018, he set a mission to become “the Harrods of the high street”.Many of the latest deals, such as Findel, now known as Studio Retail, and the tilt at control of Boohoo have been designed to build up the group’s online, financial services and logistics operations.Mike’s MotivesAshley who has a long history as a gambler — he produced a wad of £50 notes from his pocket when taking journalists through security screening on a visit to Shirebrook — is not averse to risk. However, most deals are underpinned by the value of stock and or property, which can be traded to raise cash to pay for the deal or bring a big profit if other tactics fail.His strategies to gain influence over target companies range from offering loans or snapping up debts to buying strategic stakes in publicly listed entities.One former associate says of Ashley: “He rarely has a single game plan, he looks at it in quite a complex way. If something is not working he pivots.”Unlike most other companies, negotiations often go on in the public eye, with Frasers willing to publicly admonish companies that do not bend to its will.“He is a natural disruptor,” another former associate says. “He is impish in the extreme. He can use a bit of trouble to shake things up and make money at the same time.”Several of those who have worked with him agree that Ashley is also motivated by wanting to win against certain people: business rivals such as the former JD Sports boss Peter Cowgill or the Boohoo founder Mahmud Kamani.Even those he has been closest to — such as Blue or the former lieutenants Karen Byers and Dave Forsey — have found themselves out in the cold after fallouts. Forsey, the former chief executive, has now returned to the company to spearhead Frasers’ international operations.“He has burnt bridges with people. The mistake people can make is they think they are in the tribe but they can be thrown out,” a source says.With the explosion of online retail and thousands of vacant shops across the UK, Ashley has far less competition for deals these days. “Virtually everything on the market or in trouble comes across his desk and he doesn’t have to ask for it,” a former associate says. “It has been a perfect field for him.”The company denies that Ashley still calls the shots and says “decisions in relation to the operation and strategy of the Frasers Group” are made by its board. Ashley will only “provide advice by way of a consultancy arrangement” on instruction from the board, it says.A New KingdomIn Ansty, people are worried about traffic and noise from the giant facility, but the move from Shirebrook could also be life-changing for thousands of workers. About 4,000 of them are on agency contracts and so will have no rights to a payoff.Unite predicts few of the Shirebrook workforce will be able to make the move south and will lose their jobs. “They would be unwilling and unable to afford to travel 70-plus miles to attend the new site,” Unite’s Gary Groom says. For Frasers, staffing the giant new facility is the next frontier for an empire always in flux.By Sarah Butler. Source link

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norajworld · 3 months ago

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chilimili212 · 3 months ago

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brysonblogcup · 5 months ago

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How Space Tourism Works and Providers

Space tourism is now real. People can visit space for fun. It was once a dream, but not anymore. Private companies now offer these trips. Let’s explore how it works and who makes it happen.

1. What Is Space Tourism?

Space tourism means visiting space for leisure. It’s different from astronaut missions. Tourists don’t conduct research. They go to enjoy views of Earth and experience weightlessness.

Trips usually last a few hours. Some last days at space stations. Companies design these trips to be safe. For example, Virgin Galactic offers short suborbital flights. Customers feel zero gravity and see Earth from above.

SpaceX plans longer trips. It wants to take people around the Moon. Tourists will travel in capsules with crew support. These trips are exciting but costly.

2. How Does Space Tourism Work?

Companies use rockets for these trips. They launch capsules into space. These capsules carry tourists safely. The process involves several steps.

First, tourists train for days or weeks. They learn safety and emergency actions. For example, Blue Origin offers training before flights. Passengers practice wearing suits and using seats.

Next, tourists board the rocket. The launch sends them above Earth’s atmosphere. In suborbital flights, they experience weightlessness. Orbital trips may reach space stations. Re-entry brings them back safely.

3. Who Offers Space Tourism?

Several companies lead this field. Virgin Galactic is famous for suborbital trips. Their SpaceShipTwo takes six passengers. Richard Branson, the founder, took its first flight.

Blue Origin offers similar trips. Their New Shepard rocket provides great views. Jeff Bezos, the owner, joined a test flight. Tickets for these trips sell fast.

SpaceX leads in orbital trips. They use the Dragon capsule. In 2021, they sent four civilians into orbit. Their future plans include Moon and Mars missions.

4. Experiences of Space Tourists

Tourists share amazing stories. They describe seeing Earth from above. Many call it life-changing. For example, William Shatner, an actor, flew with Blue Origin. He said the view made him emotional.

Passengers enjoy floating in zero gravity. They play games and take photos. Many say it’s like nothing on Earth. Tourists often return with new perspectives on life.

5. Challenges and Costs

Space tourism has challenges. Safety is a top concern. Rockets must work perfectly. Companies invest heavily in tests. Emergencies can happen, but training helps.

The cost is another issue. Tickets cost millions for now. Only the rich can afford them. Companies hope prices drop with time. This could make space tourism more common.

Conclusion

Space tourism is a big step forward. It offers unique views and experiences. Companies like Virgin, Blue Origin, and SpaceX lead the way. Though costly, it’s growing fast. Someday, space travel may be for everyone.

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maxusuk · 2 years ago

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Exploring the Maxus EV Range: Your Ultimate Guide to Maxus Electric Vehicle Choices

In the ever-evolving landscape of electric vehicles (EVs), Maxus stands out as a prominent player, offering a comprehensive Maxus EV range to cater to a wide array of preferences and needs. With a focus on sustainability, innovation, and quality, Maxus has become a preferred choice for those seeking eco-friendly transportation solutions. In this article, we will delve into the world of Maxus electric vehicles, providing you with insights into the Maxus electric vehicle options, allowing you to make an informed decision when it comes to your next green vehicle.

Maxus Electric Vehicle Selection: A Wide Spectrum of Choices

Maxus takes pride in its commitment to offering a diverse selection of electric vehicles, providing consumers with options that fit various requirements. Whether you need a compact electric van for urban deliveries or a spacious electric minibus for group transport, Maxus has you covered.

Maxus electric vehicle choices span across different models, each designed to cater to distinct needs. Let's explore some of the notable options in the Maxus EV range:

Maxus eDeliver 3: For those in search of a compact yet efficient electric van, the Maxus eDeliver 3 is an excellent choice. With a generous cargo capacity and impressive range, it is perfect for urban deliveries. Its eco-friendly credentials make it an ideal option for businesses looking to reduce their carbon footprint.

Maxus eDeliver 9: If your business requires a larger electric van with ample cargo space, the Maxus eDeliver 9 should be on your radar. With a higher payload capacity and extended range, this electric van is a versatile workhorse, suitable for various industries.

Maxus eDeliver 9 Minibus: For group transport or shuttle services, Maxus offers an electric minibus version of the eDeliver 9. It can comfortably seat multiple passengers and provides a clean and silent ride, contributing to a comfortable and eco-friendly travel experience.

Maxus eDeliver 3 Combi: The Maxus eDeliver 3 Combi is perfect for those who require a combination of cargo space and passenger seating. It's a versatile choice for businesses that need to transport goods and people simultaneously.

Maxus eDeliver 9 Luton: When it comes to large, boxy loads, the Maxus eDeliver 9 Luton offers an impressive solution. Its spacious cargo area and electric powertrain make it a cost-effective and sustainable choice for transporting sizable goods.

Understanding the Benefits of Maxus Electric Vehicles

Maxus electric vehicles offer numerous advantages for both businesses and individual drivers. Here are some key benefits that set Maxus EVs apart:

Zero Emissions: All Maxus electric vehicles are completely electric, producing zero tailpipe emissions. This not only reduces your carbon footprint but also helps businesses comply with increasingly stringent environmental regulations.

Lower Operating Costs: Electric vehicles are known for their cost-efficiency. With lower fuel and maintenance costs, Maxus electric vehicles can save businesses a significant amount of money over the long term.

Quiet Operation: Maxus electric vehicles operate quietly, reducing noise pollution and making them ideal for urban environments or noise-sensitive areas.

Range and Charging: Maxus EVs offer competitive driving ranges and support rapid charging, ensuring that you can keep your vehicle on the road with minimal downtime.

Cutting-Edge Technology: Maxus integrates state-of-the-art technology into its electric vehicles, providing advanced safety features, connectivity, and user-friendly interfaces.

Tax Incentives: Many governments offer tax incentives and subsidies for electric vehicle purchases, making Maxus electric vehicles even more attractive.

Maxus' Commitment to Sustainability

Maxus is dedicated to sustainability beyond just its electric vehicles. They strive to minimize their environmental impact in every aspect of their business operations, from the production process to vehicle end-of-life recycling. By choosing a Maxus electric vehicle, you are supporting a company committed to green practices.

In Conclusion

The Maxus electric vehicle selection is a testament to the brand's dedication to offering versatile and eco-friendly transportation solutions. Whether you are a business owner in need of electric vans or an individual seeking a sustainable personal vehicle, Maxus has a model in its Maxus EV range that can meet your requirements. With zero emissions, cost savings, and advanced technology, Maxus electric vehicles are poised to be a key player in the future of transportation.

Make the environmentally conscious choice by exploring the Maxus electric vehicle options and joining the growing community of individuals and businesses that are embracing electric mobility. By investing in a Maxus EV, you not only reduce your carbon footprint but also take a step towards a greener and more sustainable future.

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starman-john-tracy · 3 months ago

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First Rotation [RP]

@jaya-dewi-emt:

“If it were just a headache, I’d pass it off as just an effect of going into Zero G, but the bloody nose is… quite concerning.” Jaya adjusted her glasses, before writing something down. “Have you checked the atmospheric pressure on Thunderbird Five lately?” Having been an EMT for a number of years prior to this current job, Jaya knows what causes epistaxis. She’s seen it many times: on kids who dived too deep into the sea, people who thought they were having some sort of medical emergency on a flight when their mucus membranes were in reality simply not too great. However, seeing it on her employer’s child was concerning. Especially since he wasn’t even on earth. He already wasn't prone to nosebleeds. If he was, she'd have noticed a while ago. Either way, she wasn’t even going to ask about his blood pressure or anything along those lines. It didn’t take a doctorate to know that those were probably through the floor, as was normal in low G. “I’m suspecting that something might be up with your station. Unfortunately, I’m not Hiram, so I wouldn’t know entirely, but I know what causes a nosebleed. So, I’ll tell Hiram about it. Anything else to report?”

"I- I can get a reading." John manages, from where he's immediately crumpled into one of Five's fold-out seats, and shoved his head between his knees. He's very glad not to be in the completely Zero G environment of the Comm Sphere right now. Liquid does... dangerous things in space. "But, I- the oxygen has been fine." Unless it's leaking so slowly John hasn't managed to notice... Suddenly, John worries that it's not just the anxiety that's making it harder to breathe... or... it could just be the fact he's trying very hard not to inhale his own blood.

John's lashes go a bit fluttery, as if he's feeling lightheaded. Low blood pressure and blood loss aren't exactly an ideal combination.

"Hiram?" He laughs, wetly, through the fingers trying to pinch his nose to stop the blood flow. "No one calls Brains Hiram." John doesn't think he's heard the name since Gordon managed to wheedle it out of their Father. He wonders what it means that she's using it: he'd bet they're either closer than he'd expected, or she's unaware of his preference. "Just a headache and a bit of a fever." He reports. "Dad made me take a thermometer reading and it's at 102.6 Fahrenheit... uh... do you need that in Celsius?" Her British accent has thrown him off, but John's not quite sure he can do the math right now. His head feels... a bit, sort of, scrambled. His mouth tastes like rusted pennies.

He lays his free arm across his knees so that he doesn't have to move while booting up his wrist comm's holographic array, and checking the linkup to his new space station. The reading should be around 14.7 psi, but there's a red, glowing warning that it's dipping toward seven.

Oh. Oh no.

The only time John should be encountering a psi anywhere near that low, is outside of his Thunderbird. He's been trained to breathe 100% oxygen before performing a spacewalk, to remove excess nitrogen from his bloodstream and prevent the formation of bubbles in the low-pressure environment of his spacesuit.

"I think-" John manages around the pounding at his temples, "I think we've got a leak..."

#I was about to ask Eos to check the atmospheric readings BOI AINT GOT EOS #I write John as second oldest #bc i go with the portrait order from the opening credits #fyi <3 #a lil bit of *sprinkles glitter* decompression sickness #FirstRotationRP #tw: blood #tw: injury

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lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks · 4 years ago

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what happened the first time Wes tried to crack open the Danny is Phantom conspiracy did he like, confront Danny first or was it all behind his back like, maybe hoping ground zero would be lost among the gossip and that Danny wouldn't find out who spilled the beans once everyone knew

I mean it obviously wouldn't work because nobody believed him and the gossip didn't take off very far beyond a few people talking about Wes being kinda weird

I should absolutely write a fic about this.

I am absolutely going to write a fic about this.

I AM RIGHT NOW GOING TO WRITE A FIC ABOUT THIS.

----

"Hey Fenton! Fenton!!" Dash came bounding over and threw a meaty arm around his shoulder.

"Jesus Dash! What?!" Danny buckled under the weight (pretended to anyway) as Dash gave him a surprisingly lighthearted punch on the arm.

"You haven't heard?! Wes has this total batshit insane theory, it's hilarious!"

Dash was in a genuine giggle-fit, Danny didn't think he'd ever seen him this merry, he was also starting to suspect he was going to leave this conversation being the butt of the joke somehow. Wait-

"Wes? Who the heck is Wes?" Danny asked, it wasn't like he knew everyone in school, like Dash seemed to.

"He's on the basketball team, you know, tall guy, red hair, threw a sick move at least month's game! You know, WES!"

"I didn't watch that game."

"Oh," said Dash, flatly, "Oh yeah, almost forgot you're a total nerd. Anyway, like I was saying!"

Dash grabbed Danny by the shoulders and nearly lifted him off the floor.

"Wes thinks," he could barely speak through his giggling, he even snorted a few times, "Wes thinks your secretly PHANTOM."

Dash dropped Danny back down as he doubled over laughing.

"Could you imagine?! You! You're not even DEAD!" Dash honest to god slapped his knee in mirth.

Danny went through an incredibly swift array of emotions in the span of about five seconds.

The first was fear, clear and bracing, then came confusion, how did he know? Had he seen something? Then there was hope, Dash didn't believe it, and if DASH didn't believe it, maybe nobody else believed it either. Then relief, he could roll with this, he could TOTALLY roll with this! Dash was right! It was absurd, it was ridiculous, it was hilarious, him being Phantom? What utter nonsense!

Sam and Tucker had been standing by his side at a Dash-safe distance, looking absolutely horrified. Sam looked ready to jump in and lay down a swift defence, but Danny gave a quick little low wave for her to stand down. He got this.

"Oh my god SERIOUSLY?" Danny busted out a slightly hysterical laugh, okay so he wasn't completely over the initial terrified anxiety.

"How could I- I mean what- WHY does he think I'M Phantom?! I mean how does that even work I don't-"

Dash clapped him on the shoulder, this was probably the most contact he'd ever had with him without being physically assaulted.

"I know right?! Like apparently he thinks you look alike? And he's all like 'But I've seen his eyes glow green' and 'they're never in the same roo-hoo-hoom." Dash wheezed and started hacking and coughing.

Danny carefully constructed a look of offence.

"Hey I mean, it's not THAT funny. Why couldn't I be Phantom! I know how to use a Fenton Thermos! Look I even HAVE one right-" he torn open his backpack and pulled one out, making sure to fumble it in a terrific display of fuck-uppery and drop it noisily on the cafeteria floor, he dropped to his knees trying to grab it but knocked it under a table.

A few girls standing nearby who'd been listening in started tittering, one of the guys sitting at the table snorted milk through his nose and Dash was just about on the floor in hysterics.

Even Sam and Tucker covered their mouths in an attempt to look like they were holding in laughter. Tucker muttered to Sam, just loud enough for people around to hear.

"I mean, he's our friend and we love him, but god that was painful to watch. He knows he's terrible at ghost hunting! He's got like, nothing but thumbs."

Danny climbed under the table, grabbed at the thermos and lifted it up as he crawled back out.

"See! See! I have a thermos! I could TOTALLY be Phantom!"

Sam walked over and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "It's okay bud, I think you'd be a great Phantom." her voice was thick with her usual sarcasm, soaked in pity though it were.

Danny's ears burned in embarrassment, he might have been humiliating himself on purpose, but it was still humiliating, watching everyone laugh at him for being so weak and incompetent. He was grateful to his friends for pushing through their discomfort and keeping up the act, it was still painful, but it came with a wash of pure unadulterated relief.

Nobody believed this Wes guy, nobody thought it could be even remotely possible. People would talk about it for a little while, have a laugh, maybe there would be a few memes and in-jokes, but eventually it would drop off. People would forget all about it and it would be just another notch on the gossip mill belt.

Even if someone DID believe it, they could never admit it for fear of vicious ridicule, for once in his life peer pressure was his friend.

And then Wes walked in.

Once Danny saw him he realised that he did recognise Wes, he'd seen him hanging around Kwan a few times, and chatting with Star, he was also in Danny's english class. That was about as familiar as he got with the guy, they'd never spoken a word to each other.

Wes had a terrifying expression of seething fury ripping across his face. He was glaring at Dash.

"It's NOT. FUNNY."

Dash was completely unable to stand, it was honestly overkill, Danny almost thought he was hamming it up on purpose, but maybe not, his face was turning an alarming shade of red after all.

"Wes don-" Dash gasped. "Don't do this to me man, I can't brea-" Dash was gasping for air, trying desperately to hold down the giggles.

Danny could almost see steam rising as Wes seethed. Then suddenly that furious stare was shooting daggers straight at him. Danny shrank into himself, looking as small and helpless as he possibly could.

"Uh hey Wes, um, I've heard the news." he joked tacking on a nervous laugh for emphasis. "Uh, soooo," he tossed the thermos from hand to hand, nearly dropping it again. "Is this like, just a joke or do you really-?"

Dash continued to wheeze, Kwan was holding him up by the arm, muttering about getting some water to cool off.

Wes strode over until he and Danny were face to face, he was taller by a good couple inches, even more so with Danny making a conscious effort to appear small.

Wes jabbed a sharp finger into his collarbone.

"Don't think I'm fooled by this pathetic act you've got going on, I am ONTO you, Phantom." he spat.

Danny glanced sidelong at the table beside him, silently begging for assistance, they only watched in silence, strained faces trying not to laugh. A glance the other way to his friends, they simply shrugged.

"Um, okaaay," Danny started backing away slowly. "Uh look Wes I am honestly really flattered but, do we really look that alike?" Danny ran a hand through his hair and then pointed up at Wes. "I mean we BOTH kinda have Phantom's haircut."

Sam deadpanned from the sidelines, "Maybe they're BOTH Phantom."

"We should start marketing that haircut." Tucker muttered to himself, tapping something on his tablet. "We could make a fortune, are you any good at hairdressing?"

Sam shot him a look of disgust and did not dignify the question with a response.

"Don't play dumb you two," said Wes, flipping his focus, "You're definitely in on this!"

The entire cafeteria was awash with giggles by this point. Just about everyone had heard about Wes' theory, but were mostly convinced it was some kinda joke. Now? Now they knew Wes was straight up fucking delusional.

He glanced around as people laughed, at him. At HIM.

"It's not funny!" he yelled over the crowed, the tittering increased in volume. Someone across the room yelled-

"Hey if I get the haircut, can I be Phantom too?"

One of the goths stood up on her seat.

"I've GOT the haircut! Mom says it's MY TURN to be the Phantom!"

There was a fresh round of mirthful laughter, some kids wheezing as hard as Dash had been. Another few kids piped up above the cacophony, throwing jokes of their own.

"I've got a soup thermos so I'm Phantom now, sorry sweaty I don't make the rules."

"If I wear a Phantom shirt does that make me Phantom ALL the time or am I only Phantom when I'm wearing it?"

"I have an ass, Phantom has an ass. Conclusion: I am Phantom's ass."

"Tag yourself I'm the thermos."

"DO THE BUTTS MATCH?"

Wes had been trying to scream over the din, infuriated, desperate to find SOMEONE who would listen.

Danny gave him a pat on the back.

"Hey, if it makes you feel any better, The Guys in White once hunted some guy down because he had white hair, if a government agency can fuck that up then-"

Wes slugged him.

It wasn't a particularly solid punch like Dash's hits, it was quick and precise, Was wasn't a brawny guy, but he was lean and fast and had good aim.

Danny whuffed out a heavy breath as Wes' fist collided with his sternum and he collapsed to the floor.

Everyone in the cafeteria lost their shit, a few people screamed and one table of football jocks all stood up chanting, "FIGHT. FIGHT. FIGHT. FIGHT."

Tucker ran over to him as Sam stepped up and without hesitation slammed a fist straight into Wes' nose.

The footballers lost their minds, one of the goths stood up on their table screaming "REPRESEEENT!!"

Wes backed up immediately, crying out from the sharp pain blossoming across his face, he'd never been hit before and couldn't pull his thoughts together quick enough to throw a punch back at her, so he was taken by surprise once again as Sam placed a solid roundhouse kick to his stomach.

He had certainly not been expecting that kind of brute strength from her, she had incapacitated him swiftly and effectively, barely having broken a sweat.

One of his teammates hollered over the crowd and came barrelling down on the goth, she dodged without batting an eye and darted nimbly out of the way, giving the guy a quick kick in the pants to throw him off balance as she rocketed for the cafeteria door.

As Wes took a deep breath through his mouth, his nose dripping blood, he realised that Danny and Tucker were gone. The fight had lasted only seconds but Sam had run distraction well enough for the boys to take off without anyone noticing, a glance around showed Tucker supporting Danny about to exit through the cafeteria doors.

The doors opened to an out of breath Mr Lancer on the other side.

"'The Light Fantastic!' WHAT is going on here?!"

Oh they were all so fucked.

#danny phantom #wes weston #I definitely wanna write a sequel in detention #danny phantom fanfiction #Lula's headcanons #Lula's fanfics

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refriedweeb · 5 years ago

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PUT YOUR LIPS ON MY SKIN ( HAWKS + READER 18+)

A/N: heyyoo! refriedweeb here again with another request from @alexandria-selina and has elements of jealous hawks with his wings (from that tiktok head canon of them puffing out you know what I mean) and this post from @keiqos !

Prompt: “A jealous Hawks where his s/o gets hit on by another pro and she's blushing. She's just being shy but Hawks takes it as she likes it. Instead of getting into a fight with the pro, he shows his s/o why she shouldn't look at anyone else.”

Tags/Warnings: smut, overstimulation, jealousy, mirror fucking, spit, a lil bit of blood, rutting, feral, aftercare, kink, jealous, dirty talk.

Word count: 5,080

Keigo Takami hated hero events. He hated having to wear the Hawks persona day in and day out, especially when it came to being surrounded by his fellow pro heroes. Now, don’t get the guy wrong, he did enjoy what he did for a career despite any behaviors he had to unlearn from the hero commission themselves. He wanted to save people, he wanted to make the world a better and safer place. He just hated all the bullshit politics that came with it. They were heroes, hell. It wasn’t about making best friends and going to fancy events when there was always going to people out there that needed them while they clinked glasses of overpriced champagne.

Though, one thing Keigo didn’t think he minded that much was seeing you dolled up in a dress that led his mind to sinful, dark places. You and Keigo had only recently started dating, after months of him slowly starting to open up to you about the shit that he’d gone through, how he’d really felt about the commission once he’d gotten the sense that he could trust you. It’d been a struggle to call yourselves an item, but now that you could, Keigo felt what he could only assume was peace inside of a darkened and traumatized heart. There was also another emotion that was stirring in him that had nothing to do with peace, and all of those awful things that he wanted to do to your body. None that he would apologize for, of course.

It wasn’t his fault that the commission had decided to host a little event when he was in the peak of his rut season.

And oh, was Keigo in trouble. You’d recently started wearing a new perfume that had driven him up a wall the moment he’d caught the scent on you at the beginning of his mating season. It wasn’t sickly sweet, but sweet enough, and mixed perfectly with your natural pheromones to create a musk that drove his cock to twitch every time you shook some hair over your shoulder, stretched, fucking just breathed. He’d been unable to keep his hands off you for the majority of the weeks that had past, except as of late. You’d told him to keep his filthy paws to himself leading up to the event, not wanting to be bruised or love bit to all hell because Keigo couldn’t control himself. The way that he saw it, the dress you’d picked for the night was to torment him on purpose. Deep red velvet that matched his wings, settling over the curve of your hips, the flow of your waist.

You’d made him promise to be on his best behavior for the night, not wanting any trouble or any media to get wildly stories about what your relationship was really about. But damn, if the moment you were alone with him, he was going to tear that dress to shreds with what little talons he had in place of regular nails. You, on the other hand, your body had been spent. Keigo was insatiable on a good day, but ever since the rut season had started, it’d been exceptionally so. Not that you could complain, your body was sore in a much different, more appreciative way than you felt with sparring.

And yes, you had chosen the red velvet dress on purpose. It was your goal of the night to drive Keigo as out of his mind as possible. You couldn’t read him quite as well yet, your relationship still relatively new, and Keigo working through an entire lifetime of walls to protect his emotional security from the hero commission. His expression was a blank one, but when you locked eyes with him, Keigo gave you the smallest eyebrow raise as he looked you up and down. A silent stamp approval that had heat blossoming up your neck. He wanted to make that perfume you were wearing mixed with his own, he wanted to make sure that anyone who got a whiff of your scent knew who you belonged to. He wasn’t a fan of sharing by any means.

The night carried on, speeches given by the leaders of the commission (which you’d always found yourself by Keigo’s side much to his comfort), Endeavor’s speech, All Night’s retirement speech, and so on and so on. There’s been a light array of snacks while the pros mingled, finding yourself talking to Shinya Kamihara, otherwise known to the world as Edgeshot. It wasn’t very often you got to mingle with the top ten pros, your rank in the high teens, so you found yourself shy. Not quite sure how to handle yourself around such class, experiences, and amazing heroes. You were sure the blush on your cheeks, your neck, was visible from outer space. Shinya was a gentleman, he complimented you on your quirk, your work, and the little bit of history you’d talked to him about on why you had made your choice to become a hero. From your point of view, it was a harmless conversation that was borderline on friendly as you got to know the fellow hero, but from a certain outside perspective it was something a little more.

Keigo wasn’t paying attention to any of the conversation going on around him, his eyes were focused on you. The way you tipped your head back as you laughed, sending another ripple effect of your smell through the air. Was that bastard Edgeshot trying to move in on you? Did he really think he had a chance? He swallowed the jealousy in his throat, though his avian side had a mind of its own on this. His wings, proud and defensive, puffed out. This caused a stir of the other heroes around him, asking if there was something they missed that he’d alerted to. Keigo laughed, the same charismatic Hawks as always, saying they just needed a stretch. He crossed his arms, fidgeting with one of his cuff links. Keigo, jealous? Haha. HAHAHAHA...ha? His eyes were narrowed into slits as he watched you pat Edgeshot on the shoulder, leaning in to kiss his cheek before the other hero moved away.

His instinct was to claim you right then and there. To rub his scent all over you and yours on his so that no one else would mistake you as open. But...that’d certainly cause a scene and that was something he promised he wouldn’t do that night. So, Keigo bit back on his instinct, unclenched his jaw, and behaved for the rest of the night. Anything that came after that was entirely out of his control. You’d floated around to him throughout the night, not doing much outside of brushing hands together, a chaste smile shared between you. This was your first real hero event ever since you broke into the teens of your career, and it was one you wanted to soak in. Keigo knew this, and didn’t want to spoil it for you despite his own feelings on the event.

Keigo’s mood, his want, took a turn for the worse when it came to someone actually flirting with you. You, not experienced enough with the personalities of some of these heroes to realize what was happening. It wasn’t Edgeshot this time, no. Now...it was Ryo Inui, better known as Hound Dog. And he was like Keigo in a way that he wanted to mark whatever it was that he wanted. Ryo put his hand on the small of your back, where Keigo’s hand was supposed to go. He laughed when you laughed, leaning in close to you as like there was some desperate secret he needed to share with your ears only. Ryo was flirting with his girlfriend and was being so bold about it. No, nope. That would not do for him. His wings fanned out again, this time catching the attention of several people around him, you and Ryo included. Your mouth dropped open in awe at the sight, though when you caught Keigo’s eyes to see his pupils narrowed into slits, something like a firework set off in your belly.

That fucking mutt dared to spoil that perfume that sent him into a frenzy with his dog-like scent? That wasn’t something that Keigo could stand for in the slightest. That scent was you. It was the scent he had been planning on burying his own in.

The two of you left the event shortly after.

On the ride back to Keigo’s place, the car was silent. Not a word was spoken between the two of you, though it was full of tension in a way where if you breathed, you felt that you could choke on it. He drove fast, shifting gear after gear with aggression that made you wish it was your neck he gripped so hard. As you sat in the passenger seat, you couldn’t help but rub your thighs together to feel some of that much desired tension between your legs. This didn’t go unnoticed by Keigo, and he hissed.

Still, the two of you didn’t exchange words until you were behind the privacy of his front door. And even then, you spoke first. “Everything okay, Keigo?”

His pupils were still zeroed in on you, as he stalked towards you, every bit the predator bird that he was. And fuck, if it didn’t make you want to melt into a puddle at his feet. You walked backwards, careful not to trip over the towering heels you were in. His body was hot, flush against yours though he refused to touch you. Keigo wanted to take his time with this, with devouring you. You’d rubbed it in his face how much the rest of the heroes wanted you, being the little flirt that you were. There was no need for him to rush into anything, the way Keigo saw it. “Oh, everything’s fine.” He commented, tone dark. “I could handle that nimrod Edgeshot eyeing you up like some desert, sure. I behaved,” Keigo tipped his head to the side as he shrugged. He’d managed to walk you back into the bedroom you’d been sharing recently.

“What are you talking about? Edgeshot was just being friendly!”

Keigo’s chuckle was cynical, but it turned the silk of your bundle into a pearl with how quickly it excited you. “He wanted to tear this dress of you just as much as I do.” How he was. “But then you had to go and be a little tease, didn’t you?” Keigo was watching you like a hawk would watch a mouse just before it clutched it in its’ talons. “Had to let Ryo rub himself on you like the mutt he is. In the middle of my rutting season.” Your back bumped up against the floor length mirror behind you as Keigo gripped your jaw, the sharp curve of what would have been talons biting into the skin there. “All I can smell on you is him.”

He clucked his tongue. Sharp, narrowed eyes lowered over your skin and back up. You were breathless and Keigo hadn’t even touched you yet. “That just won’t do, now will it, (Y/N)?”

“K-Keigo, I don’t know what you’re-”

A soft cry of pain rose from the back of your throat as his version of talons sank into your skin, enough to draw a little bit of blood. This was Keigo in his rutting form times a million, a possessive version of him you’d never seen before. Part of you was scared, but the larger part of you was excited. He wanted to claim you. He wanted to make you more than just his.

“I asked if that would do, (Y/N)?”

Unable to speak with how tightly Keigo gripped your jaw, you simply shook your head from side to side. No, it wouldn’t do. That crooked smirk brushed over Keigo’s lips, and you wanted to taste him so bad. Taste the anger on his tongue, feel the fury in the rows of his teeth. Keigo was pissed, more than anything, that someone had tried to erase his claim on you. So, the only way to make sure that never happened again was to mold the scent of you with his. “That’s a good little slut.” Keigo released his hand from your jaw, the faint tickle of blood that ran down your jaw sending a shiver down your spine.

Keigo turned surprisingly gentle as he turned you around, as he pressed your hands up against the curve of the mirror that you were facing. “I’m going to make you watch me claim you. Fuck you and fill you until there’s no fucking mistaking who you belong to.” His hands dug into the back of your skin, and you winced. “You keep these hands right here, and if you don’t, there’ll be problems. Do you understand, little bird?”

“Yes, Keigo.”

His devilishly wicked smile returned. And so did the greed in his hands. Keigo took his time groping you, the swell of your breasts full in his hands. The winding curves of your waist and hips. Down the silken road of the dress that he swore he’d destroy. He wasn’t soft, gentle. Keigo was at his brink already, but he wanted to take his time with torturing you for being such a teasing little whore. His hands gripped the sides of your thighs, plunged through the velvet fabric so that lines of red were exposed in the slits he left behind. A soft moan escaped you at the sensation of talons digging through your skin, and he watched your expression in the mirror’s reflection as he did it over your backside. “Do you like that, whore?” he whispered in your ear. “When I leave my mark on you? When all you can feel is me?”

“Yes, fuck,” you breathed in response. He buried his face in the juncture of your neck and collarbone, taking a deep breath in that still smelled like mutt, fueling his need to erase that smell completely. His kisses were wet, sloppy, tongue traced over the length of your collarbone, of your neck. A soft sigh escaped you, your grip on the perimeter of the mirror growing tighter as the need to touch Keigo grew. His teeth sank into the soft spot of your neck, your head falling back on his shoulder as he suckled the skin there, a patch of pink blossoming against the skin there that would eventually bruise. The assault against your neck and your shoulders didn’t stop there, either. He ran his nose along the length of your shoulders, leaving trails of wet, angry patches from where he’d bit and pulled at your skin. There wasn’t a single ounce of Keigo that was kidding when he said he was going to erase every trace of anyone on your body but him. His cock was hard, and it would have been so easy to just bury himself inside the soft warmth of your cunt, and god how he ached to.

But the best things came to those that waited.

While his tongue and mouth worked at your neck and shoulders, his fingers played with your breasts, groping and pulling at the skin there with reckless abandon. Fingers pinched at your nipples, sharpened nails ghosted across the tender flesh there. You shuddered, shifted where you stood as you ground against his hips, feeling the thick length of him there. Keigo had barely even touched you, but you could feel the pool of warmth between your thighs only growing wetter. “Keigo,” you mewled.

“Hmm?” his breath came hot against the ear he had been nibbling on, and your knees knocked together.

“Touch me,” you pleaded.

“Touch you where?” His tone sounded positively bored, pinching your nipple between his thumb and index finger that caused you to squeal.

“My pussy,” you caught sight of your own desperate expression in the mirror, all while Keigo looked like a predator playing with his food. And in that moment, you realized this was exactly what it was. Keigo was toying with you before he sent you to the next level of existence. Your legs quivered. “Play with me.”

“Have you been a good little bird?” He asked.

“Yes.”

His hum seemed to be a satisfied answer, because his hands left your breasts, finding a new home at the back of your dress. But rather than go for the zipper, Keigo simply tore the fabric. The sound of it ripping filled the room as it pooled down at your feet seconds later. Leaving you exposed save for the same colored red pair of panties you’d worn that night. The dress had left no room for a matching bra given the dip at your back it’d once had. But that was of no consequence to Keigo. Keigo let out a sharp breath through his teeth as he admired your body and all that came with it. His hands found the curve of your backside, kneading the flesh there with thought. You could feel the tent of him pressing in between your thighs, and you let him slip between your thighs, shifting your thighs back and forth to alleviate some of the tension in his cock for him.

On instinct, more due to the fact that the bird in him wanted to cover you in his scent and his cum, Keigo rolled his hips into you with a snap of a thrust. It pushed you forward, almost sending you colliding with the mirror. “Little bird, that wasn’t very nice of you.” He scolded, letting a finger draw under the band of your panty before lifting it up. A moment later it was slapping against your skin, and you hissed. “I’ll have to punish you. Such behavior tonight...” he drawled, quickly shedding his formal attire until he was dressed down to just his pants. Keigo pressed his chest against your back, rubbing himself against you. His free hand returned to one of your breasts, toying with the nipple there as he murmured in your ear, his voice husky.

Feral.

“So naughty tonight...” Keigo continued as his other hand slipped down the front of your body, underneath the dark red lace that had kept that pretty little cunt concealed from him. He found how wet you already were for him, slick glaze quick to coat his fingers as he ran them up and down between your legs. “Already so ready for me. You really are the little tease, aren’t you?” A moan escaped you as he teased the tip of his finger around the circle of your clit, but not quite touching it. “So filthy...” he went on, breath hot against where he’d drawn out hickies moments before.

You were so eager for him to be inside of you, already so wet for him, Keigo had the perfect punishment for you being so naughty. He brushed his thumb against your clit, and your grip on the mirror slid down as you fought not to grab onto him. He was tantalizingly slow as he circled around your clit, tapping against the swollen bud every so often but not often enough for what you needed in that moment. His chuckle was dry, the hand that had been playing with your breast sneaking up to your neck. Your thighs were slick with your need, your core on fire as he teased you closer and closer to your edge.

Keigo tipped your head back, opening your mouth as he leaned in. As he spat on the tongue you’d pushed out like the slut you were. Every possible hole he could find to fill you with, Keigo was going to. You weren’t going to be able to walk down the fucking street without a single person forgetting who you belonged to. “What do we say, little bird?”

“Thank you,” you rasped as he slid two fingers into you, feeling him stretch your walls as he slowly pumped them in and out of you. He was slow, methodical, holding your jaw in place so that he could look down at that awestruck expression on your face as he finger fucked you. Your belly was on fire, waves of fire rolling as your orgasm wound tighter and tighter around his fingers. Keigo could feel his own cock slick with his precum, knowing he wouldn’t be able to last much longer himself.

“I don’t like it when other people look at you like you’re theirs for the taking,” Keigo muttered when he the tip of his nail along your clit. The featherlight sensation caused your knees to buckle, your hips to buck as you fell back into him. “You’re mine. And I’m going to fill you so fucking good that no one makes that mistake again.” He stretched your walls further with a third finger, and you writhed in your standing position as he continued to work those fingers in and out of you. The coil in your belly was wound tight enough where you thought

“Who do you belong to, little bird?” His fingers picked up pace, the sound of your silken glaze coating him filling the room while you fought to make your brain remember words. Your mouth hung open as he finger-fucked you, head bobbing against his shoulder as he looked down at you expectantly. “Tell your man who this pussy belongs to, and I’ll let you cum.” He could feel how close you were, the sound of your mewls turning to pants.

“You! It belongs to you!” you whimpered, grinding against his hand, your hips rolled forward to press his fingers deeper inside you. “Please, Keigo!”

This satisfied him enough, at least for now. His pace quickened still until your head was hung forward between your shoulders, moaning his name over and over as you watched him finger fuck you. Your orgasm was on the brink, the precipice of pleasure and all you needed was -

“Ah, fuck! Fuck, Ke-AH,” That needed push found you moments later and you were spilling around the spread of his fingers, your orgasm taking over you as your legs spasmed, knees buckling so that Keigo had to support you with a hand around your waist. Your grip on the outer of the mirror so ironclad you thought you’d break it. It rolled through you in waves, Keigo’s fingers sticky as he pulled them from you, suckling your sweetness of his fingers like it was candy. Shit.

“What a good little slut,” he whispered. The sound of his belt loosening, the pants falling, re-sparked that fire you’d just doused by orgasming. You could see his cock, curved and thick with a head already milking his cum. “Gonna fill you so good now, gonna fuck you full of my cum.” You watched, mouth dry as he milked himself with a fist. “Gonna watch me fuck you, baby bird.” You could feel the press of his head between your thighs, and you widened your stance to accommodate him.

Then, without warning, he thrust so hard into you, that you cried out in pain. His thrusts from the get go were borderline violent, painful as you fought against being thrown into the glass of the mirror. A hand fisted into your hair, pulling it sharply enough that you could feel the pain, but with enough leeway that you could still watch as he moved in and out of you, his cock already wet with what was left behind from your first orgasm. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, the smell of sweet sex coming shortly after. You were unable to make any intelligible noises aside from mewls and gasps, while Keigo was behind you muttering to himself about how good your pussy felt, how it was made for his cock, how he was going to fill you up so fucking good.

The mountain climb to your orgasm started again, your cunt clenching around him as he thrust in and out of you with feverish need. His hips were sloppy, and you didn’t dare tear your eyes away from where he slipped in and out of you. “Such a sweet fucking cunt,” Hawks groaned, twisting your hair tighter in his fist. “My fucking pussy.” he hissed with a thrust that hit the highest point of your wall and caused you pain. Yet you didn’t dare stop. The look on Keigo’s face, the roll of his bottom lip between his teeth, let you know he was close to his high. The sight of him so focused on fucking you wound your belly tighter, and you missed the hand that slipped down to your clit once more. You cried out, the over-sensitized nub of your clit protesting as his thumb found it once more. The grip you had on the mirror shifted again, a move to get his hand away from where you were most sensitive.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” he growled, and your legs quivered. His eyes were still narrowed into near-invisible slits as you obeyed the order. You shook, spasmed, as he raced your orgasm to line up with his.

“Please, please, ah, hrnngh, Kei-” your hips found the rhythm to match his almost instantly, and tears sparked in your eyes as the bundle of nerves exploded inside of your body, every nerve ending inside you set on fire, exploding as your second orgasm found you just moments before Keigo found his own.

“Fuck, fuck yeah, gonna fill you so fuckin-Urngh,” Keigo groaned, fucking into you with one last violent thrust as he spilled himself in you, shooting ribbons of cum that went scorching through your core. There was a moment as the two of you stood there, Keigo still inside of you, breathing heavily. You on the other hand, were shaking all over, barely able to keep yourself on both legs.

Keigo’s callused finger pad was still resting over your clit, and even the smallest shift sent a wave of pleasured pain coursing through your entire body. You were overstimulated, likely to cum if he persisted again. “Kei...” you whispered. His head was resting over your collarbone, hung low. He reached out and slapped your hand away, pressed it back to the mirror. He wasn’t done with you.

“Told you, little bird. Gotta punish you.”

A whimper rolled through you, “I can’t, I can’t, I-” you let out a whine as he tapped his thumb against you again, slowly rolling a half-hard cock in and out of you as he started at your clit again. Massaging it slowly, cruelly. Your legs bowed out, slack as it was on Keigo alone to keep you supported with your weight against his chest. “Gotta make sure you know,” his hips snapped against yours again, and those tears that had been hidden in your eyes slipped loose. “That no one else is gonna fuck you this good. No one’s gonna make you feel this good.” he said, your body screaming at you for relief, for the prickling of nerves in your skin to cease. “You’re my good little slut.” You could feel whatever remnants of his cum shooting out into you once more, wetness cascading down your thighs.

The perfume you’d been wearing now, Keigo noted, was mixed so heavily with his own pheromones and sex, that there was no mistaking who fucked you at night. Who you were mated to. You were all Keigo’s, and that was what mattered to him. But he still had to finish punishing you for being a little tease, for allowing that musky scent to be tarnished by anyone other than him. You were a whimpering, sobbing mess, flushed against his body as your hips moved on their own accord in time with the fingers he was using between your sopping lips. Your cries were pained, unintelligible pleas to cum and be released. Yet, he took his time. Feeling that sweet cunt clamp down around his fingers once he pulled out of you. A moment’s reprieve before his fingers stretched you all over again. He wound you tighter, and tighter, sending that fire racing through your veins.

“I can’-” you cried out, a threatening wave of pleasure and pain coursing through you. “Please let me cum, please. I’ll be good, I’ll be good.” tears were wet against your cheek as he played with you.

“You promise, little bird?”

“Yes! Yes I promise!” you begged.

After all that time of keeping your hands on the perimeter of the mirror, your third and final orgasm had them flying to Keigo’s hair for stable purchase as it overtook you. Your sobs filled the room as your rode out the final orgasm, your chest heaving in shuddering breaths as Keigo worked you through it, held onto your body tightly to keep you from collapsing. Your legs were soaked, your nether region slick from top to bottom. Keigo pulled his fingers from inside you, slick and thick coated with both of your bodily fluids. His eyes met yours through the mirror as those fingers dipped between your lips, pushing them onto the flat of your tongue as you lapped and sucked them clean. Only when he was satisfied you’d gotten every last drop of each other’s cum, did Keigo pull his fingers from your mouth.

“You did so good, little bird.” he cooed in your ear, nuzzling his nose against the curve of your ear as he placed gentle kisses to sweat-soaked hair. Brushed away the tears on your cheeks. “Such a good girl,” he said, a hand smoothing over the places he’d bitten and marked you. Lips gentle as he pressed chaste kisses to the place on his jaw where his talons pricked you. The feral need for Keigo to fuck you into oblivion was satiated for now, his touch now gentle as he caressed and soothed you, the aftershocks of an overstimulated orgasm lessening as time lapsed. He was pleased that your scent now, was so heavily mixed of him and that perfume. No one was going to act as Hound Dog had, especially now. His lips were soft against your temple, his thumbs tender against the curve of your shoulders. It was a scent he was immediately fond of, and a scent he’d do anything to protect, to maintain. Keigo hummed, folding you up into the safety of his arms, surrounded by nothing but contentedness.

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thebeautyoffanfics · 4 years ago

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Hiya! I love your blog! Could I please request a platonic Akane x reader x Aoi where th reader is their best friend and they are a trio (Aoi finding reader to be one of the few people she can be herself with and also being a wingman (wingwoman? Wingperson?) for Akane) and the reader decides to make a raspberry pie for Aoi with Akane since she's been seeming down lately but none of them can't cook and reck everything so they get a mildly amused Aoi to help them despite wanting it to be a surprise

(platonic) akane aoi x gn!reader and x akane

a/n: hello hello!! Love these guys!! I can’t remember the last time i wrote for aoi, so that’s definitely fun!! Thank you so much for requesting, and thank you for the compliment!! <3

warnings:

word count: 1,583

Seeing Aoi feeling down was unusual. When you asked her about it, she told you she wasn’t sure why either. “I’m fine, (Y/N). It’s just one of those weeks, you know?”

Yes, you definitely knew. But, it didn’t make it any better. All you could do was be there for her, and rely on Akane to be the one to make her laugh- he’d be there as well, but his confessions always brought a smile to her face. When the smile she usually wore at one of his attempts was blatantly empty, Akane approached you as well.

“She’s feeling really out of it,” He sighed, looking at the school’s beauty from across the room. She was watering the plants, eyes slightly downcast, though she “cheered up” when someone took notice of her. No matter her smile and raised eyebrows, for you and Akane, it was easy to see through. All you could do was nod. He didn’t need to point it out- you both were aware. It was just him… noting it. Getting it off his chest?

“Say, Akane, do you have anything to do after school?”

“Technically, I have to do things for the student council. Teru usually takes my work load when I’m ‘not doing it properly’ or ‘getting on his nerves’, which entails simply existing, but- I can get out of duties, if you need me to.”

“I was thinking… Aoi likes sweets, yeah? What if we made her a pie or something? Dropped it by her house after we’re finished?”

Akane raised his eyebrows, nodding in agreement. “That’s actually a good idea. You know how to make pie?”

“Nnnno, but, there’s gotta be a recipe online, or in a cookbook somewhere. While you get your student council stuff done, I can run to the store quickly.”

He nodded again, telling you that it sounded like a plan.

If only that enthusiasm could have influenced the results-

“It can’t be too hard!” You had said, looking at the array of ingredients after washing your hands.

“For Ao-chan, it’ll be a piece of cake.”

“A piece of-”

“Please don’t-”

“Pie.”

Akane rolled his eyes, looking over the recipe. “Anyway, preheat the oven to 425.”

You walked over to the oven, preheating it, then feeling rather proud of yourself. One step down, only so many more to go! Easy-peasy!

Grabbing a pie plate, you reached for the pastry. “I’ll roll out the crust if you’ll work on the filling?”

“Alright… I just put everything in it?”

“Yeah. Measure the stuff and whatnot.”

Akane grabbed the ingredients, putting the necessary amount into a bowl, as you glanced at the recipe.

“Oh, but not the egg or water-”

“...(Y/N), I swear to-”

You tensed as Akane sighed in frustration, walking to the trashcan and pouring the combination of ingredients into it. He rinsed the bowl lightly, before taking the recipe and reading it over once more. After reading it, he began to make the mixture properly, not sparing you a slightly annoyed- though harmless- glance. He mixed, then pushed the bowl your way.

“I mixed, you put it in.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes, as you poured the mixture on top of the crust, then wet the outside of the crust lightly. Once that was finished, you reached for the rest of the pastry, setting a knife aside as you rolled it out.

“Are we gonna make it all criss-crossed?” Akane asked, walking over to you, and peering down as you took the knife.

“Yep, as best we- aH ouch, ouch,” You yelped, dropping the knife and bringing your hand to your mouth.

“Oi, don’t put your hand in your mouth- you’ve been touching the dough, wash it off first.”

You grumbled, walking to the sink and wincing as you washed your bleeding finger off. Luckily, it was nothing more than a knick, but it still hurt-

“You got blood in the dough,” Akane groaned, walking over to you and placing the knife and plate in the sink, then tossing the dough. He walked over to the counter, taking an extra thing of dough that he was now glad you bought, and rolling it out. He took it upon himself to slice the bits, telling you to mix the egg and water while he did so.

So, he placed the slices over the pie, and you lightly applied the egg-water mixture, smiling as he crimped the edges. You sprinkled a small amount of sugar over the top, then placed your hands on your hips proudly. Akane shoved the pie in your direction, then motioned to the oven.

“Cook for 15 minutes, then, once that’s over, we’ll lower the heat and cook it a little longer.”

“50? Isn’t that a little long?”

“15? Not really, no, not unless you have a plane to catch.”

You shrugged, placing the pie in the oven, then setting the time for 50 minutes. All that was left to do was wait.

You walked back over to Akane, then took a seat on the floor. He looked down at you, then followed your actions. “You think Ao-chan will like it?” He asked after a moment, causing you to shrug once more.

“I think so. Heartfelt things are supposed to mean more, right? Nothing gets more heartfelt than a homemade pie. Though store bought would have been easier, the trial and error just makes it better. At least, that’s what I hope-”

“That’s true. You’ve got the cut to prove it.”

“Shut it, four-eyes.”

Akane laughed, as the conversation continued lightly. Mainly talking about Aoi, drifting to how you hoped she’d feel better, drifting to how the pie smell was starting to get strong.

“I told you, Akane, I feel like 50 minutes is a little too long.”

“...HOW MUCH-”

“50?? Did you not say 50???”

“50? Five-zero?”

“Yes???”

“I SAID 15- ONE-FIVE, FREAKING-”

You both jumped up, running to the oven. You turned it off, while Akane grabbed the oven mitts, opening the oven and grabbing the pie. The brown, slightly smoking pie. The burn smell filled the room, but… at least it still smelled somewhat like raspberries…?

“(Y/N), we’re friends- but more importantly, you’re one of Ao-chan’s best friends- so I won’t say what I’m thinking. But I do want you to know, I have a few choice words that I’m keeping to myself.”

“Maybe you should enunciate-?! You’re top of the class, and for what???”

“Okay, first of all-”

“(Y/N)? Akane?”

“Ao-chan..” Akane muttered, in sync with your, ”Aoi...”

The purple-haired girl sniffed lightly, before her eyes landed on the pie resting in front of the two of you. Her expression was pure curiosity, practically asking the both of you “what’s going on?”

“Ah… Akane and I were just trying to… make a pie…”

“What for? You guys know I can cook, I would have helped.”

“Well- it was supposed to be for you, Ao-chan. We ran into… some misunderstandings though.”

Aoi’s surprised expression melted into genuine joy, which quickly melted into sweet laughter. You saw Akane’s face flush slightly from the corner of your eyes, and you couldn’t blame him- even platonically, her laugh really was purely… music. She was laughing at the two of you, you both knew that- but, the two of you made her laugh. For the first time that week, she was smiling, laughing. She was happy. You and Akane exchanged victorious glances, fist bumping underneath the counter.

“Ah, it can’t be helped then. (Y/N), Akane, are there extra ingredients?”

You nodded, grabbing the extra things of dough from a grocery bag, then motioning at the already-out ingredients.

“Great! Akane, preheat the oven please? 425 for now.”

Akane nodded, walking over to the oven and preheating it. While he did that, Aoi handed you the dough, and took over the ingredients for the filling. “Roll that out, please, (Y/N). I’ll take the filling- but, Akane, I’ll trust you to roll out the second thing of dough. I can cut it and apply it to the pie,” She ordered, placing the necessary ingredients into the bowl. The way she went about things was neat, showing off her perfectionist tendencies. Compared to the mess you and Akane had created earlier… she really was a diamond in the rough.

---

Time had passed, the pie finished and cooled off, though the sun was nearly gone. Aoi cut the pie, offering the both of you a slice, then taking one for herself. Cheerily, she took a bite, as you and Akane followed suit.

The sweet smell filled the room, so much nicer than the burning smell created earlier. The taste was just as lovely- accompanied with Aoi’s smiles, everything in the world suddenly felt right again.

“Even if it didn’t go as you two planned, I am really grateful for you both. I know the two of you wanted to try and cheer me up… I think this was a really sweet way of going about it. And, to be completely honest, I am feeling better.”

“Ao-chan… I love you so much…!”

“Hmm… 5 points! 3 bonuses for the pie.”

Akane sighed lightheartedly, taking another bite from the pie.

“Aoi, I love you so much,” You spoke, placing a hand on your chest and smiling at the girl. “Platonically, of course-”

“I love you too, (Y/N),” Aoi smiled, closing her eyes cutely.

“(Y/N), those choice words from earlier really are seeming very nice to share with you-”

#anon #request #platonic #platonic x reader #gn!reader #x gn!reader #tbhk #jshk #toilet bound hanako kun #jibaku shounen hanako kun #aoi akane #akane aoi #tbhk x reader #jshk x reader #toilet bound hanako kun x reader #jibaku shounen hanako kun x reader #aoi akane x reader #akane aoi x reader

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dancingwiththeplanets · 4 years ago

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An Angel Amongst Demons - chapter one

Boba Fett x fem!reader

chapter 2 / masterlist

Summary: Boba tries to shield you from the dark side of his life. In his eyes, you are too innocent and pure for the harsh realities of the work that surrounds him. So when one day you stumble upon a meeting gone wrong when you were supposed to be hidden away, Boba’s afraid you won’t like the pieces of him he’s tried to protect you from, or worse, that now you’ll fear him.

A/N: My first fic in like 6 years, I'm nervous! haha This is kind of an AU I think?? Takes place after the events of season 2. I’ve added in two OC Mandos to the entourage because I love me some of that tribal brotherhood devotion. Also.. considering making this a series?

Warnings: soft!Boba (like, REALLY soft!Boba) protectiveness, maybe over-protectiveness? small character death, nobody important, two new sexy mandalorians (we’ll learn about them later), not much to be honest.

Word Count: 5.7k+

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There’s a lot to Jabba’s palace that most people don’t know about. A lot’s changed since the esteemed Boba Fett took over the throne and claimed ownership over the fortress in Tatooine. Castle might actually be a better word for it. Somewhat modest and ordinary looking on the outside, the true magnitude and vastness of the castle is hidden underground, even past the comfortably sized throne room.

What lingers further down the sandstone hallways are an array of rooms and staircases, mostly leading down in different directions. There’s a library and a kitchen and even a ballroom, which never has and probably never will be put to use. There are guest rooms that are more suitably described as luxurious suites, for the grand total of zero guests that Boba will allow to stay in his sanctuary.

There are permanently standing rooms for only a handful of the staff: the maid, Ada. Fennec, of course. And the two newest members of Boba’s trusted, elite team, Enzo and Raul, who arrived shortly before you did. The two are a pair of dutiful and truly impressive Mandalorians who serve at his beck and call, courtesy of Boba Fett’s ally and only recognized leader (not that he’s ever told what to do), Mand’alor Din Djarin.

Past the staff rooms and further down an open and beautifully lit hall, is the communal area of the palace, the center, if you will. Fully equipped to socialize and entertain guests with comfortable seating, a fireplace, and charming embellishments around the room. A warm and pleasant area of the palace that likewise, does not get as much use out of it as it should.

And finally, behind the common area, which in its own way, serves as a magnificent entryway, is Boba Fett’s private chambers. Home to the respected and feared bounty-hunter turned ruler, and you, his haven.

You. His cyare. His beloved. The ruthless king had fallen in love with you and your delicate heart, seemingly untampered with and somehow not left scarred by the harsh realities of Tatooine. He saw in you light and tenderness, and you gave him joy and true unconditional love. He spent many, far too many, late nights in Mos Eisley, at the cantina you worked in as a waitress. At some point visiting you every night to walk you home at the end of your shift, though you assured him you always made it home perfectly fine on your own. But Boba secretly lived for those extra few minutes he could spend with you walking you to your residence. Not to mention, he couldn’t fathom why it didn’t scare the bantha shit out of you to be walking around Mos Eisley alone at night, unarmed. That fact that you did sure as hell scared him.

On most nights he walked you home, you invited him in, unless you were absolutely too spent to spend another moment standing. But it was on those long nights that poured into the early hours of the lovely Tatooine sunrise that you and Boba grew close and eventually professed your love for one another. Soon after, he hopefully, and quite timidly, asked you to live at his palace with him. Though you’d never been before, you knew exactly where it was, and for that matter, who he was.

The new king of Tatooine had a reputation for being ruthless, unforgiving, and dangerous. And you didn’t miss the way people cowered away from his presence, especially when he wore the armor. Though, by your own calculations, every other patron who marched their way through these lands was just as feral as the Boba Fett they all believed they knew, and not one had ever been as kind or as gentle, or captivated your thoughts, the way he did.

He knew these things. More than most in the galaxy, he knew what a cruel fate such a pure being could meet, and if truth be told, he wanted to escape with your kind soul and shield you from this harsh planet before anything could harm you.

When he asked you again to go with him, you met his hopeful and loving gaze, eyes filled with devotion and admiration, and the corner of his lips pulled up just slightly in the most endearing of grins, you couldn't help but to instantly wrap your arms around him, leave a kiss to his neck, and tell him nothing would make you happier.

“Besides,” you teased, nuzzling into his neck, “I always wanted to be a princess.”

Boba chuckled and wrapped a strong arm around your waist, pulling your face back and tracing his thumb under your chin. “Believe me, mesh’la. You already were one.”

The next day, you found yourself and what little you owned in possessions, situating in your new home. Like everyone else, you had shockingly inaccurate presumptions about the size of the palace, soon learning that what lay hidden behind the throne room and down the sandstone halls was a modest castle to get lost in. No matter, you adjusted to your new environment and routine, though still unused to the respect and coddling you received on a daily basis, you adored every extra moment spent with your king.

Which is how now, five months later, you lay quiet and still as a mouse in bed, gazing dreamily at a sleeping Boba next to you. The early morning light casting a light blue hue over the room, as the suns hadn’t quite risen just yet. You were fortunate enough that your bedroom, the top floor to your two story chambers, was one of the few rooms in the palace with a proper window, the rest of your home and castle being underground.

A low grumble from the man next to you causes you to hold your breath, eyes not daring to leave his form as he breathes in a deep sigh. “You know,” he begins drowsily, “the moment you wake up and opt to stare at me instead of closing those lovely eyes again and getting some more rest, is the exact moment that I wake up too.”

“You don’t have to wake up,” you smile teasingly.

“I can’t help it.” He grumbles, eyes still shut heavily against the apples of his cheeks. “If you’re up, I’m up.”

“For all you know,” You retort, “I’ve been staring at you, awake for hours.”

At this, Boba’s unimpressed gaze turns to you, eyes now latched onto yours. “You haven’t been.” He says.

“And how would you know?” You giggle back, “I haven’t moved a hair. I woke up facing you, and didn’t move anything but my gaze. So unless you can detect the vibrations from my blinking, you couldn’t know.”

“I know.”

It’s your turn to look unimpressed, “How?”

“Because,” He leans in close to you, your noses lightly touching and a devilish look in his eyes, “If you’re up, I’m up.”

“Mm.” You hum unconvinced, eyes fluttering closed as he leaves a kiss to your nose then pulls away to sit at the edge of the bed. You follow his form as he stretches to a stand, joints popping as he twists his back and arms around, the result of a body having gone to war and back countless times. You sit up tiredly and lean against the headboard, watching him pull on his under armor, then latching on the Beskar. Piece by piece his body is decorated with more intimidating and handsome armor, slowly shielding your eyes from the scarred but lovely body of his that you admire possibly a little too much.

“You stare any harder and I might decide to take it back off,” Boba quips, a smirk rising on his cheeks.

You blush, shaking your head and looking away, gaze now pointedly out the window.

“Mesh’la,” He says, grabbing your attention again, his hands now occupied tugging on his gloves as he takes a few strides towards you. He smiles at the pink tint to your cheeks and your guilty smile, the remains of having been caught admiring him still plastered on your face. “I have important business to attend to today. But I’ve arranged for those workers to come and paint the library in a couple hours, would you mind overseeing it?”

He lifts a hand to lightly brush his thumb along your cheek, looking down upon you quizzically.

“Of course.” You nod eagerly. You've slowly been tending to every inch of the palace, erasing all remnants of the Hutt’s and adding in touches of comfort and warmth wherever you can. You wouldn’t say decorating is a passion of yours. But this is your home now, you might as well fill it with things you admire. Plus, Boba said if you didn’t take over the project, he’d just paint everything grey and toss out the old furniture without replacements.

You shiver as you untuck yourself from your velvety comforter. For a fortress built on possibly one of the hottest planets in the Outer Rim, this place can get cold. Probably due to the fact that it’s rooted so deeply underground.

Happy to have something to do, you head to the fresher for a quick wash before Boba leaves to his duties. You exit your chambers together, Enzo and Raul already waiting in the common area for you both. Upon seeing them, you turn and leave a gentle kiss to the cheek of Boba’s helmet for a final moment of private intimacy before you descend the staircase, hearing him chuckle fondly at your action as he follows.

“Good morning Fett, my lady.” Enzo bows lowly, turning to you. You laugh and shove his shoulder upon reaching the pair of them. You can hear the hint of amusement in his voice as Raul shakes his head beside him.

“Good morning gentlemen.” You smile.

Boba huffs coming to stand beside you, “Gentlemen.” He scoffs at your words.

Raul clears his throat, “Crane should be here soon, boss.” He says, visor trained on Boba and arms crossed over his chest, gaze briefly turning towards you before meeting the boss again.

You look towards your partner, “Your meeting today?” You ask.

“Yes.” He says, giving a quick nod.

“Alright,” You say, glancing at the suspiciously still trio of Beskar-clad men, “I’m going to the kitchens to have some breakfast. Then I’ll meet up with those workers in the library.”

Boba nods again, confirming your agenda.

You stare up at him, waiting for him to sputter out whatever it is you know he’s wanting to say.

“...Then,” You go on, “I guess I will, do some reading or...baking or...stare at the wall or something.”

“Sounds like a riveting afternoon,” Raul says after a more than comfortable silence.

“Okay,” you smile, chuckling a little and taking a step back, choosing to dismiss yourself now before the awkwardness has a chance to develop. “Have fun with Mr. Crane.”

Boba clears his throat as you turn towards the kitchens, stopping you with a hand on your arm. “Mesh’la,” He says, glancing pointedly at Raul and Enzo, who move to wait for him a few paces away. “Could you do me a favor?”

You tilt your head suspiciously, urging him to go on. “You’re acting rather strange Boba Fett.” You tease.

He grunts, “I’ve had a lot of trouble with Calendei Crane. He’s not a very loyal man, nor do I consider him a good one. He’s had a lot of chances to make up for the problems he’s caused me, but recently he went too far, and we’re not going to be having a charming reunion just now.” He sighs, “What I’m trying to say is... he didn’t necessarily come here by his own accord. And he won’t be very happy that he is.”

“I understand.” You nod.

Boba frowns inside his helm. I don’t think you do cyare.

“Alright then,” he says, “That said, I would really appreciate it if you would stay away from the throne room today. At least until I send Fennec or Enzo for you or something.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice his hand opening and closing nervously by his side. He thinks you don’t know what he means. Oh Boba.

You reach for his hand as you step closer to his form. “Boba,” you whisper, leaning up towards him with a small smile, “You are the most kind and gentle man I’ve ever known. But I know that you are a man of business and principles. You do whatever you have to do. If an employee of yours is out there making a mess under your name, I would expect nothing less than for you to handle it.” You say, hoping to reassure him.

You raise your free hand to rest against the cheek of his helmet, “But I’ll busy myself back here until you’re done.”

He lets out a sigh in relief, hand reaching up to grab yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you.” He says, before tenderly tapping his forehead against yours and turning to get on with his day.

You shake your head at his retreating form. Despite all of the darkness and dirt and the scum that surround Boba in his everyday life, he really does try everything in his power to not let it touch you. It’s almost as if despite the late night confessions and raw conversations you two have shared about your lives don’t translate to reality for Boba. As if he somehow believes you don’t truly know what it is that he does and who he is.

He seems to forget that you yourself have grown up with the same scum that populate this planet. In the nearest city to here in fact, where all the mudscuppers of the galaxy would stay and wreak havoc when this was once Jabba’s palace. You’ve seen things. You’ve experienced things. Some things that, shamefully, you haven’t yet shared with Boba. But what you can say with the utmost of certainty is that you know exactly the kind of people that like to deal in underworld business. And you know that there are many cruel beings out there. But Boba, he certainly isn’t one of them.

You sigh, turning to pass through the empty dining hall to the kitchens. The light tapping of your shoes echoing in the desolate space. A part of you wishes you had said to him, ‘Oh Boba, when will you learn that you don’t need to protect me from yourself?’

A necessary conversation for another time, you decide.

Shaking away your thoughts, you wander into the kitchen, making yourself a quick breakfast and giggling a while with Ada, as she begins preparing a stew for all staff members taking up a residency in the palace. She often prepares meals in substantial quantities, making enough for herself, you, Boba, Fennec, and the two other Mandalorians to all enjoy in your respective chambers.

“Take some of these to go dear!” She calls out, chasing after your form as you exit the kitchen. “You had better be eating a balanced diet.” She chides, handing you a towel with some berries on it.

“Thank you Ada,” you smile, leaving a peck to her cheek and making your way to the library.

When you arrive, the workers still aren't there, and you hum glancing at the clock. They should have already been here and working at least for an hour by now.

Expecting their arrival soon, you busy yourself with cleaning dusty bookshelves and making piles of the previous inhabitants' furnishings and decorations you’d rather not have.

You plop down on the floor after sorting through your ninth bookshelf, sighing after attempting to categorize everything by genre. Even opting to make a pile of books to get rid of, because really, nobody needs handbooks on slave trading and dealing in the dark business of the underworld. They’re just not something you’d like in your home.

You glance at the time again. “What on Tatooine.” You mutter, stretching to a stand. You’ve officially been bailed on, because you've been sitting in this dingy library for four hours and if nobody’s shown up yet, you doubted they would be.

Looking around at the mess you’ve made, you decide to finish tackling this task tomorrow, and head back down the hall towards your private chambers.

You pause to lean against the wall with your eyes closed, letting out a great yawn. It’s barely past noon and you’re already beat.

A voice calls your name just in front of you, startling you in the dark, candlelit hall.

“Ada!” You jump, with a hand to your chest.

“Mm, I’m sorry sweet one.” She frowns. “You had better go check on your Mandalorian.” She says sternly, wagging a finger up at you. “He sounds angrier than a farmer whose fresh crops have been raided by Tuskans.”

You furrow your eyebrows at her words, frowning. “Does he sound alright?” You ask, concerned.

“Too riled up.” She chides, shaking her head as she continues to pass you in the hall, grabbing a hold of your arm “Go straighten him out, lecture him on that temper of his.”

“Ada,” You sigh, “He’s dealing with a trying issue right now, and I promised that I’d stay away from this meeting.”

“Peh,” She waves her hand in dismissal, “Fine, your decision. But I did see a couple of those workers you were waiting on looking rather frightened up in the throne room. Go on and fetch them and get on with your project. You left quite a mess in there for me to deal with.”

“What?” You look disbelievingly at her, “Well why didn't you just send them my way. I waited all morning for them.”

She shakes her head, looping her arm through yours as you continue walking side-by-side. You roll your eyes at the nerve.

The sound of sudden, unmistakable shouting, coming from much further down the hall and up the stairs ascending to the throne room stops you instantly. Your eyes widen a bit as the voice carries on, rather menacingly. You wouldn’t want to be the one receiving the tail end of that conversation. Boba truly does sound pissed. You wonder how long he’s been with this Crane fellow.

“Ada,” you whisper, the lower tone seeming appropriate, “Don’t you go trying to get me into trouble.” You say, pulling her back as she tries to urge you forward.

“Young lady,” She scolds, looking up at you in a surprisingly threatening way. “I have much work to do. I need my good broom which I left up those stairs, and you need your painters or carpenters or whatever it is those fellas up there are. So, let us ladies get on with our business and fetch our things.”

“If you’re already heading up,” You say through slightly gritted teeth, “Then why don’t you just go up there, grab your broom, and do me the favor of nudging down my workers while you’re at it.”

“Because I have a bad leg. Now either accompany me up stairs so that I don’t fall or go on and get those things for the two of us at last!”

“Maker, Ada fine!” You say, losing your temper. A part of you knowing she was just stirring up trouble. You start up the first step and turn to her with an obvious empty threat. “And I’ll be sure to note to Boba that our maid has a bad leg leaving her incapable of climbing our palace full of stairs.” You mutter disbelievingly.

“Mm, you do that.” She counters.

You sigh, shaking your head as you quickly make your way up, hearing Ada walk away behind you.

That woman knows far too well that we would never replace her, you think.

Your focus shifting back to the surprisingly silent throne room just up and down the hall, you walk wearily, suddenly a little nervous.

You notice as you near the room, your steps silent down the hall, that there is a hushed but heated back and forth taking place.

“-swear Mr. Fett I-I d-didn’t know they were-”

“-What?” You hear Boba’s ominous voice interrupt. “You didn't know what?”

His form comes into view as you peek your head into the room, watching him descend the steps of his throne and approaching the accused slowly. You take a half step back, hoping to further hide your position, seeing as before, you were concealed behind his back. But given his new stance, the flicker of his gaze upwards and Boba would be met with your sinful and curious eyes.

Raul, you note, leans comfortably against the wall across the room behind Boba, observing the scene from afar, but seemingly more interested in fixing a mechanism on his Westar-35.

Fennec, who, based on the fearful gaze he glances up at her with, was obviously the one to retrieve Crane, staring down at him with a daring look in her eyes, as if challenging him to try and escape this situation. Enzo stands on Crane's other side, blocking most of your view from the accused and his state. You also note that there is no such broom or fearful workers around. Ada.

“Mr. Fett-” He whimpers.

“Sod it.” Enzo growls, raising his weapon to shove against Crane’s neck, hushing his pleas instantly.

You observe the creature as best you can from your corner. You don’t want to peer out any further for fear of alerting Boba of your presence. He wasn’t human, but not terribly strange looking, a blue being, probably a humanoid, but with claws for nails that were certainly not cute. He’s on his knees, head bowed forward in obvious shame and fear, and hands tied firmly behind his back. This guy looks like he’s had a pretty bad couple of days, but you still can’t tell if you feel sorry for him or not.

Boba reaches Crane in the center of the room, and in a manner so menacing and calculated, that exerts a level of dominance that frightens even you, he crouches down on his heels, meeting Crane eye-level.

Boba slowly pulls his blaster out of its holster and lifts it to Crane’s ducked chin, using the barrel to tilt Crane’s face up to meet his.

You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until you feel yourself running out of air.

“You didn’t know what Crane?” Boba repeats in a tone so hushed you could barely hear. “That you were selling information to an enemy of mine? That you were betraying the trust that I had put in you? That you stole my property, weapons, and money to give to people who wish to do me harm?”

You can’t help but to feel anxious and on edge. Knowing very well you are not supposed to be in here observing the scene in front of you. Wondering if at this point, you should even try to make your silent leave.

Crane, seemingly breathless, and having accepted his fate, nods in defeat. “I’m sorry Boba.” He whispers.

“You violated the terms of our agreement Crane.” Boba says, rising up and adjusting his belt. “I gave you opportunity after opportunity to make it right. I told you that this was your final chance. I even gave you the kriffing option to leave!” He finally shouts.

You watch his chest heaving in rage as he continues to stare down at a defeated Crane.

Boba scoffs, “What did you expect would happen?”

The crippled man on the floor does what you least expect, his gaze lazily lifting up to meet Boba’s as he chuckles carelessly, his laugh soon transforming into a truly mad howl.

He looks like an absolute maniac.

Your eyes furrow in extreme discomfort as you watch the dramatic change in scene, and despite the obvious upper-hand that Boba has, you feel the urge to stand between him and this disturbed creature.

“I-I guess,” Crane breathes out between spouts of laughter, “I held out hope. Hope that the famous Boba Fett, oh-” he croaks out another laugh, “I’m sorry, that the-the King of Tatooine, would finally meet his demise like he should have all those years ago in the sarlacc. Oh, Boba, we were all so pleased when we thought you’d met the maker that day, but you...you son of a nerf herder, you lived. And WHY should you get to live while the rest of us died off! TELL ME BOBA FETT! Because you know something? You of all beings do NOT get to cheat death. You think you’re better than the rest of us, trying to make amends for your crimes against nature? Against the galaxy?”

Crane leans his head forward nearly slamming it against the ground as he violently spits out, “-No, no, no, no old friend. You are the worst, most foul kind of scum to EVER have walked these lands. You are no worse than Jabba, don’t you kid yourself. And if I have played any part in your demise, I’ll have avenged my brothers who have died at your hand. Your end is coming Boba Fett! You will fall, and so will anyone who tries to prevent your end!” He carries on, doubling over while spitting out the most ludicrous threats between maniacal laughter.

A wave of pure fear plunges your heart, leaving a sickly feeling in your gut at his words. You don’t even realize that your longing to protect Boba has unconsciously pulled your body a few steps in his direction. Your error not evident to you until Raul moves from across the room, capturing your attention. You glance at him only to see the gaze of his visor already locked onto yours and his body making quick strides towards you.

“Boss-” Raul says hurriedly, but not before a shot rings out, causing you to jump and gasp, hands flying up in front of you in instinctual defense.

You open your eyes and turn your head to face Boba just as his gaze snaps in your direction. Even with the visor covering his face you can see he’s taken aback by your presence. His arm lowers quickly with his blaster, holstering it. Everyone’s attention seems to be on you.

Nobody moves for a moment, and still frozen, your gaze flicks down to the dead being, monster, who lays thankfully slain on the floor.

Seeing movement out of the corner of your eye, you avert your gaze back up to Boba, whose arm shifts nervously at his side.

“Ner- ner cyare.” He whispers, his tone strained and unlike you’ve ever heard before.

You take a step towards him, but don’t go much closer when Enzo shifts to exist as a barricade between you and the bloody mess to Boba’s side.

“What are you doing here?” He says, seeming to struggle with every word.

“I-I can’t remember.” You say after a beat, nervous again suddenly that you’ve poked your nose into business you told him you’d stay away from.

He stands frozen, panicked behind the harsh mask of his visor. His absolute worst fear being realised as you stand in the aftermath of an execution he himself carried out, right in front of your eyes.

Cruel. Unforgiving. Dangerous. Vile. Sadistic. Merciless.

All words he imagines were running though your sweet mind behind those wide eyes.

“Boba.” you utter, taking another step towards him, hesitating at first then succumbing to your hearts needs and taking up a speedier pace.

Your hands, which at some point started shaking, matching your more obviously quickened heart rate, raise up slowly to rest on his chest, and you swear he flinches at the contact.

“Cyare-” He mutters again, heart beating undoubtedly twice as fast as your own, fear and desperation clinging to the word, but he stops when your suddenly tear-filled eyes meet his gaze and you cling to the sides of his helm.

“Boba, are you okay?” You whisper frantically.

At that, he lets out a shaky exhale, body loosening and head tilting slightly at your words.

“What?” He asks, stunned.

“Are you alright?” You say, searching desperately through the dark visor of his helm for his warm, brown eyes.

“Am...am I okay?” He repeats.

“Yes I-I heard everything he said.” You stutter, head turning to meet the deranged creature's corpse covered in his own blood before Boba finally and frantically grabs a hold of your cheek to gently avert your gaze away from the scene. “He-he was absolutely maniacal.” You let out a shuddering breath. “I’m so sorry I came but I-I heard shouting and A-Ada said something I can’t even remember what but I ended up here somehow and please don’t be mad but maker I just didn’t expect this-” you pause, tempted to glance at the corpse again but your cheek stays steadied in Boba’s hand, “-this monster to be here, threatening you and maker I know you’re alright, you’re always alright, but I desperately wanted to be standing between you and him to do anything to shield you from his threats I-”

“-Mesh’la.” Boba says, more of his confidence appearing in his voice and his movements but still weary nonetheless.

“Are you okay?” You repeat desperately, cradling his helmet firmly in your hands again.

“I’m-yes. Yes mesh’la, I’m alright.” He stutters out, “Are-are you not afraid of me?”

“Afraid of you?” You breathe out, taken aback. “Never, Boba. I-I could never fear you.”

Boba’s completely stilled in your arms. It feels like hours, your wide eyes looking at him with that familiar tenderness and devotion. You almost forget about the other’s, standing completely motionless around you, until Boba suddenly turns you and urges you forward with gentle hands on your waist, his form practically shielding you, quite fruitlessly, from the scene he guides you away from.

When you reach the hallway, he allows you to pull him next to you instead, as he opens the door to the closest chamber in sight and ushers you into it, closing the door behind you both.

The dimly lit room casts a warm glow on you both as you turn to face Boba, whose back is slumped up against the closed door. He heaves in slow, heavy, deep breaths.

You stand, unmoving, only a few inches from him. Gaze locked on his visor, you wear a concerned expression on your face, your own breaths silent but speedy as you wait for him to explain his behavior.

He finally says your name, both his palms rising in a pleading request for you to take them.

You place your hands gently in his, and he cradles them to his chest, looking down at them. So small and clean and innocent in his dark gloves that carry the stains of countless victims.

You hold your breath when you hear a choked sob escape from his modulator. Your mouth falls open a bit, eyes flitting down to where he stares at his hands caressing your own.

“Boba?” You mutter.

As if prompted by your voice, a more obvious sob falls from Boba’s lips, and his hands release your own, finding purchase on your hips as he falls to his knees before you.

You gasp out a breath of disbelief as you watch your partner, your warrior, your Boba, cling to your waist. Silent sobs shake his body as he hesitantly pulls his hand from you and places it under the lip of his helmet, tugging the armor off and letting it topple to the floor beside you.

Tears spill down Boba’s face, following the same trail left behind by the first few that managed to fall. You grasp his face in your hands, thumbs sweeping across his cheeks and erasing the tears that slid down his scarred skin.

Your vision blurs as your own eyes well with tears. “My love,” You whisper, “What’s wrong?”

His forehead tightens and brows furrow, making him look like he’s in pain. “Mesh’la I-” he stops to compose himself, his eyes looking down though you hold his face in your palms. “You- you do not fear me?”

“I could never Boba.” You assure him, you voice cracking as you say the words. “I trust you more than I’ve trusted anyone in my life. You...being with you, makes me feel safer than I ever thought I could feel.”

Your hand leaves his cheek to smooth out the worried lines on his forehead, and you bring your index finger under his chin, urging him to look up at you. “That creature, monster, whatever he was,” You start, “He was disloyal and foul and cruel. He wanted to hurt you. Which means he wanted to hurt me. I couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to you. You’re my everything Boba.”

He stares up at you, vulnerable, more unsteady than you’ve ever seen him, but you go on, “I know who you are Boba Fett. I know that you were a bounty hunter. I know that now you rule the underworld and that sometimes you do unpleasant things. I know that you have regrets and I know that you have a past. I have one too. But most importantly, I know that you are a good man, worthy of my trust. And I will stand by your side every day for as long as you want me here, because I love you. My mind, my body, my soul,” you whisper, tears flowing down your own cheeks now, “-they’re yours Boba. All of me is yours.”

Tears well in his eyes again as you speak, but he doesn’t hide from you as he frowns against the tears threatening to spill again. “I love you so much.” He confesses almost fearfully.

You reach down to unlatch his hands from your waist, though you’re met with mild resistance, before you kneel to be level with him. You lean forward slowly and kiss him, passionately and desperately and devotedly. He cups your face in his hands, pressing you to him as close as he can before releasing you.

“You,” He whispers, leaning his forehead against yours with closed eyes, “You are too pure for this galaxy. An angel living amongst demons.”

“And I suppose you think you’re a demon?” You shake your head, smiling at the absurdity of it.

“Me?” He grins, “A fallen angel? Most definitely.”

#an angel amongst demons #Boba Fett #boba x reader #boba x you #the mandalorian #book of boba fett #din djarin #mando #jabbas palace #soft!boba #king!boba #boba fett x reader

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there-must-be-a-lock · 4 years ago

Text

Not That Kind of Movie

Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

Summary: “They plan a romantic getaway but everything goes sideways and they end up in a dive motel eating cheap pizza but the water is hot and the mattress isn't the worst and...” (prompt courtesy of @fangirlxwritesx67)

Word Count: 2590

Warnings: Steve feels sorry for himself, Bucky gets sassy, and innuendo abounds, but there’s nothing particularly explicit happening. Zero adherence to any sort of canon timeline. It’s fluffy as hell.

A/N: Blame @katwillrise, who encouraged this nonsense and has been keeping me company in the Stucky hole. Please help us. We cannot get out. Major thanks to @itmighthavebeenintentional, who a) reassured me that this was worth posting and b) came up with the whole pizza thing and let me write it because she is amazing.

“I think—” Bucky starts, but he (wisely) stops when Steve lets out a wordless rage-grunt.

“I got it,” Steve snaps, and seriously considers kicking the motel door in.

He gets five more beeping red lights before Bucky points out that he’s trying to open the wrong door.

Bucky opens the right door on the first try and ushers him through. He hasn’t said “I told you so,” but he is radiating it from every smug pore. He’s been pointedly not saying “I told you so” all damn day, about every damn thing.

“Maybe Mercury’s in retrograde,” Steve mumbles, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he sets his bag down on the desk. Then he realizes what he just said and feels himself flush brick-red.

Steve knows, without turning around, that Bucky is smirking. He can picture it way too clearly. Most people have trouble reading Bucky’s brand of deadpan, these days, but he has an array of specific smirks, and they’re all subtly different if you know what you’re looking for. This one, barely-quirked lips and sparkly laughing eyes, translates to you’re an idiot but you’re my idiot. It’s just a hair meaner than the you’re an idiot but I love you variant and its close cousin, I fucking love you, you idiot. Steve knows it well.

This particular smirk has had the same effect on Steve for about a century now: he gets a brief, overwhelming urge to punch Bucky, followed by an equally overwhelming urge to kiss him senseless.

It’s irritating. And after a day’s worth of wildly unfortunate events that could, technically, be described as “Steve’s fault,” he is already irritated enough. He pointedly keeps his back turned and tries some breathing exercises.

“That’s really what you’re going with?” Bucky says, dry and amused. “We’re blaming this on planets?”

Steve sighs. “Clint taught me about astrology last time he got drunk.”

“You do know he’s fucking with you, right?”

“Of course I do,” Steve says, hoping he sounds disdainful. “I’m going to shower off the dried alien goop now.” He makes a dignified retreat to the shower while Bucky laughs.

They were supposed to be at a luxury mountain cabin with a hot tub. Instead, the first day of their anniversary trip has been one long series of unmitigated catastrophes, because somehow, Steve’s tactical skills — which have defeated actual evil Nazi masterminds — do not extend to dates. Or romance in general, really.

Steve has realized, in the last year, that while he is a goddamn national hero and literal superhuman, he is a disaster of a boyfriend. And yeah, sure, “boyfriend” doesn’t seem like the right word, exactly, for everything they are, but they’ve officially been together for a year now, and Steve got it into his head to make an effort.

So, yeah. Catastrophes. And now he’s trying to scrub off dried alien goop in a sputtering coffin-sized shower that was clearly not built with super soldier proportions in mind.

The hot water lasts just long enough for Steve to deem himself clean enough, for certain values of enough, but it doesn’t do much for his mood, which is the sort of sulk that really requires a hot tub. He just wanted to plan something nice, for once. Romantic. He’s always so busy running around being Captain goddamn America that romance usually takes a backseat — admittedly, aliens take the front seat in this metaphor, which is fair, but the point stands.

Bucky is sprawled out on the plasticky motel duvet. He changed into flannel pajama pants and a worn henley, and he is temporarily retired from combat and other violent activities his therapist has deemed unwise, so he isn’t covered in alien goop; in fact, he looks comfortable and somehow totally content. After this kind of day, it doesn’t seem fair that someone should be that kind of attractive.

Bucky stops channel-surfing to give Steve and his very small towel a flirtatious once-over.

“Can you just get it over with?” Steve sighs, looking up at the ugly water-stained ceiling in supplication.

“Hell no. I want to hear you say it.”

“You were right. About taking the time to shower, and bringing our phones, and checking the radiator a week ago, and… all of it. Happy now? Stop laughing at me, I swear to god, I will — oof.”

Steve doesn’t bother to resist, because the way his luck is going, that’d end in broken bones. He winds up on his back, towel-less, with Bucky on top of him, but his weight and his heat and his smile are doing a lot for Steve’s mood.

Then Bucky grins and says, “Told you so, punk.”

Steve scoffs and scowls and rolls them over — more out of principle than any actual desire to fight back — and Bucky lets himself be pinned. The smirk is back, and this time Steve gives in to the urge to kiss him senseless.

By the time he pulls away, Bucky’s mouth is red and his eyes are heavy-lidded, and he’s giving Steve a slow blink and a lazy curl of a smile. It’s just as effective now as it used to be on every girl in Brooklyn.

“You should put on pants,” he says, but the husky tone of his voice is saying the exact opposite, and it takes a second for the words to register.

“Huh?”

“Pizza should be here in five minutes. We’re not in that kinda movie.”

That surprises an actual huff of a laugh from Steve. He slides away and digs around for his sweatpants while Bucky gives a low whistle and ogles shamelessly.

By the time he settles back on the bed, he’s feeling a little sheepish and he’s ready to apologize. Bucky’s got one eyebrow raised ever so slightly, just waiting — the laugh helped, and he knew it would, and now he knows exactly what’s coming. Damn him.

“Sorry,” Steve sighs. “About everything. This is not what I had in mind.”

“Not sure what you mean,” Bucky says glibly. “I can think of worse ways to spend a Friday night.” He wriggles closer, pressing their hips together and giving Steve’s ass a friendly grope.

“Seriously. I’m sorry, this was —”

“When’d you turn into such a princess, huh?” Bucky asks, soft and fond even if the words are teasing.

“Excuse you? I’m not the one with an entire duffel’s worth of hair products.”

“What I mean—” He punctuates the word with a kiss that’s all teeth and promise. “—is that I’ve seen you grin and bear it through some serious shit, Rogers. You didn’t even get this bitchy when we were trekking around the goddamn Western Front. So what’s with the whining?”

Steve doesn’t know where to start. For a second he just looks.

Bucky’s made up of dramatic angles and distinctive shadows, jawline and cheekbones set in a way that Steve’s been trying to capture on paper for as long as he can remember, but up close like this, the sharp delicate lines seem blurred and smoothed-over; all Steve can see is the softness of his mouth and the gentle swoop of his eyelashes. Everything else falls out of focus.

Christ, he’s gone for this jerk.

And that’s the problem, really, because of all the things in his extraordinarily strange life, Bucky has always been the most extraordinary, a living breathing wise-cracking miracle even before they both became world-famous scientific anomalies. He deserves fireworks and epic poems and goddamn parades, and instead — well. This is the sort of motel where you don’t look too closely at the stains on the carpet.

Steve’s spent the better part of a century pining for the guy. You’d think he could manage one romantic weekend getaway.

“Stop that,” Bucky interrupts, before he can spiral any further. “Jesus, stop with the big tragic eyes already. Just shut up and kiss me.”

Steve would protest, but there’s a tongue in his mouth and a hand in his hair, tugging sharp enough to make his hips twitch forward and his rational mind switch off completely. There’s kiss after syrupy-slow, brain-liquefying kiss, and for a moment Steve lets himself get lost in it.

Then they’re interrupted by a knock on the door, and he’s so startled he jerks back and rolls off the bed into a crouch, instincts kicking in before he remembers: pizza. Right.

Bucky is laughing — cackling, more like.

“Wallet’s on the desk,” he says, and stretches extravagantly, unbothered, while Steve fumbles for some money and goes to open the door.

“Your total is—” The guy stops, blinking rapidly up at Steve. “You’re…”

Steve remembers abruptly that he’s shirtless and half-hard, with some major bed head and kiss-swollen lips.

“Sorry, I’m not — this isn’t —” he blurts out. “Um.”

Too late. The guy is already glancing behind him; Steve looks back just in time to catch Bucky’s outrageous wink and sly grin from where he’s lounging on his side like a goddamn pinup.

The delivery guy looks up at Steve again, grinning, and says, “Nice. Get it, Cap.”

“I — what? No!” Steve squawks. “Not what it looks like!”

“Totally what it looks like,” Bucky calls cheerfully.

Steve shoves too much money at the guy. “Keep the change. Thank you!”

He manages to snatch the boxes and slam the door before this can get any more mortifying, and then he sags back against the doorframe and puts a hand over his eyes for a second.

“What happened to not that kind of movie?” he sighs, cheeks burning, before collecting himself and making a mental note to warn Pepper about another impending PR crisis.

They sit on the floor, side by side, leaning back against the mattress. Steve checks the top box and hands it to Bucky at the sight of pineapple.

“That’s yours. Heathen.”

Bucky shrugs, unrepentant, and shoves half a slice of his pineapple abomination into his mouth in one bite. Steve does the same with his perfectly respectable mushroom and sausage piece, and for a few minutes they both just shovel food into their mouths. Steve didn’t realize how hungry he was, but… yeah.

Maybe blood sugar has been a factor in his mood. Huh.

“How’sit?”

“It’s pizza. It’s hot and cheesy, it’s not like it could be bad.”

“Hot and cheesy, huh? Just like one of my other favorite things.”

Steve lets out a long suffering sigh, but it’s hard to be grouchy after demolishing half a pizza.

“You know that guy is gonna tell everyone he’s ever met, right?”

“They won’t believe him.” Bucky counters. “Hey, did you know there’s Captain America porn?”

Steve almost chokes. “Excuse me?”

“There’s a porn parody of everything these days. The guy’s not a bad lookalike, at least in the face area. The dick area—”

“Bucky.”

“I gave them that guy’s name when I paid for the room and ordered the food.”

Steve actually chokes this time. Then he laughs until his stomach hurts.

He can’t stop until he’s breathless and red-faced, wheezing like he still has asthma. He wipes away tears while Bucky sits there and looks quietly pleased with himself.

When the giggles subside he leans over and plants a greasy kiss on the corner of Bucky’s smile. Bucky chases his mouth and nips his lower lip, and for a minute they sit just like that, twisting at an awkward angle to exchange slow scattered kisses.

With hunger out of the way, Steve’s top priority is getting Bucky horizontal again, so he shoves the pizza boxes out of the way and tugs-lifts-tackles him onto the bed.

“Feeling better, I take it,” Bucky says, grinning. “Seriously, everything okay?”

“Sorry,” Steve says sheepishly. “I just — I don’t know. I wanted this weekend to be perfect.”

Bucky’s expression clears, suddenly. “God, you’re such a romantic.”

“I mean, it would’ve been romantic, if everything had gone according to plan.”

“You know I’ll say yes even if it’s not perfect, right?”

All Steve can do is sputter for a solid minute. “You — how did you — how did you figure it out?”

Bucky raises one snarky eyebrow, thumbs stroking Steve’s shoulderblades before he surges up for a quick kiss. Then his lips twitch as he tries to hold back a chuckle.

“You didn’t buy a ring, did you? ‘Cause I hate to break it to you, but… that might be problematic.” He pokes Steve in the side with one metal finger.

“No! I just — I wanted it to be special!”

Bucky rolls his eyes in a way that somehow conveys an entire lifetime of mingled exasperation and affection.

“Pal, I’m part robot and you’re Captain America. Doesn’t get much more special than that.”

“I had a whole speech!”

“Now there’s something you don’t see often: Captain America making a speech.”

“Wow.”

“No, I’m sure it was a good one. Lemme guess, the words ‘til the end of the line’ were involved. Am I right?”

“Wow.”

He’s laughing too hard for it to be considered a real kiss, but he can’t help it.

Steve’s about to pull away when Bucky wraps both arms around him and kisses back, and suddenly there’s nothing playful about it; it’s startlingly slow and deep and urgent, with a hitched inhale and an exhale that comes out shaky.

Steve can’t quite catch his breath either.

“You really thought you had to ask?” Bucky whispers. Neither of them pull away; their noses brush, and they’re breathing the same warm close air.

“Told you, I wanted it to be special. You deserve that.” He expects a sarcastic retort, but Bucky’s serious and silent. “Sometimes I worry… I’ll let you down. After all this time — I don’t want you to get bored. Don’t want you to think I take you for granted.”

“Honestly? The boring stuff is my favorite.”

“You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better, Buck.”

“After everything that’s happened —” His voice has gone rough, and he pauses to lick his lips and take a breath. “Boredom still feels like a luxury. Getting to muddle through the everyday shit together… I love it. Even when you’re being a goddamn diva.”

Steve lets out a wobbly chuckle. “Jerk.”

“We both shoulda died a few times over by now. You know? It all feels special. I’m never gonna get over that.” Bucky bites his lip, and his expression is wide-open and vulnerable, no trace of the usual laughter in his eyes. “So if you want a piece of paper making it official, that’s fine by me. But as far as I’m concerned… it was a done deal a long time ago.”

“Yeah,” Steve manages. “Yeah, okay.”

Then it’s bruising lips and feverish heat, a simmering need that’s so perfect and dizzying that for a few minutes, Steve forgets about the questionable duvet and the sticky wallpaper and absolutely everything else.

They could be anywhere: crappy motel room, Brooklyn tenement, mountain cabin, Army base — Steve’s never been able to focus on their surroundings or anything else for that matter, not when Bucky’s around. This kind of love’s not just blind, it’s blinding.

“You can go through the whole thing anyway, if it makes you feel better,” Bucky interrupts.

“Huh?”

“I know you need to deliver an inspiring speech at least once a week or you get all backed up.”

“I’m starting to think I should take it all back.”

“No, really. I’m sure it would’ve been very eloquent.”

“Shut up and get your clothes off already.”

“Is that an order, Captain?”

“Yes.”

“See? Who needs romance when — oh. Oh, hey, do that again.”

#stucky #stucky fic #mcu #mcu fic #bucky barnes fic #steve rogers fic

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gumnut-logic · 4 years ago

Text

Callisto (Voyage - Bit 3)

Prologue Incident - Bit 1 | Bit 2 Fallout - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 Voyage - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3

This has settled down to a once a week post at the moment. I am still writing, but I’ve been writing the Prologue because I realised that I hadn’t written enough backstory to support the main story. So expect 4000-odd words of Jeff landing on Mars in the near future.

In the meantime, here is a little terrible twos being good bros.

As always, many, many thanks to @tsarinatorment @scribbles97 and @janetm74 for all their patient help. I’ve been a pain lately, so they have suffered greatly for my fic :D

I hope you enjoy this last bit of Part Two.

-o-o-o-

Gordon sat back and watched his father and Virgil leave the cockpit. John followed a moment later.

Gordon wasn’t hungry, not by a long shot. His stomach was still protesting the jump and he was quite happy staying where he was.

He wasn’t surprised that Scott, after reassuring himself that Alan was okay monitoring the course correction, disappeared after John. Gordon did not want to be in the room when that encounter happened. Not that he didn’t have his own beef with the astronaut over this. He couldn’t believe John would support their father going into space. John, of all people knew the health ramifications.

Speaking of which…

He unbuckled and pushed off his chair in the direction of his father’s chair. Formerly, his chair. He was of two minds regarding that fact, but considering he didn’t think Dad should even be in space, where he sat was of the least importance.

He hooked his foot around the base of the seat and pulled himself in beside his little brother.

Gordon’s eyes danced over the flight controls. “How’s it going?”

Alan glanced at him. “Computer is performing perfectly. We’ll stop to drop the buoy in about twenty-five minutes.” A raised eyebrow. “How’s the tummy?” And yes, there was a small smirk accompanying that.

“It’s fine.” As if to penalise him for lying to his little brother, his gut twisted.

Gordon let out a groan.

The smirk turned to a worried frown. “You sure you’re okay.”

He grunted at his brother. “I’ll live.” And he remembered that there were four more jumps there and likely five more on the way back. “Maybe.”

“Get Virg to drug you up. You’ll enjoy it more.”

‘Enjoy’ was rarely in the same sentence as ‘space’ in Gordon’s book. “Might do that.” Puking in zero-g was just messy and not to mention gross. “How come you aren’t feeling it?”

Alan shrugged. “Been playing with g-forces since I was a kid? This isn’t much different.”

Gordon grunted at him again.

They sat there together for a moment or two. There was something about hanging with his little brother that was different from hanging with his older brothers. More relaxed maybe, or just…different.

“Not often my ‘bird carries yours. This has to be only the second time.”

Gordon blinked. “Yeah? I think so. Not too many oceans in space.”

“Tell that to the Jupiter system.”

Space oceans were a thing. After the mad dash that was their trip to Europa, Gordon had made a point of reading up on all the extra-terrestrial oceans he could find.

Earth, of course, was the only body in the solar system with surface liquid water. There were buckets of ice on many of the other planets and moons, but none of that interested the aquanaut. He preferred his water well above zero degrees celsius.

Europa had been fascinating and he was still basking in the accolades from the scientific paper that he, Alan and his heroes, the Pendergasts, had jointly written. Readings from Four’s scanners had recorded everything and Earth’s scientific compliment were still going nuts years later. Tracy Industries had helped fund a proper scientific expedition to the moon.

Hmm, come to think of it, they should probably drop in and say hi on the way back. Would be interesting to catch up with Gwen and her team in person instead of over holovid.

Would be hilarious to knock on their door as a surprise. Hi, we were just in the area…

He grinned.

“What are you up to?” Alan was eyeing him suspiciously.

Gordon snorted. “Just thinking we should drop in on the Europa Extra-terrestrial Marine Expedition on the way back. I owe Gwen a jump-scare.”

His brother tilted his head, obviously calculating the possibility. “Could do. You should speak to Scott.”

That dragged him back to reality. “I guess it depends on Dad.”

Blue eyes darted in his direction. “Dad will be okay. You know that, don’t you?”

Gordon found he didn’t have the energy to get angry. “How can you know that?”

“I don’t.” Alan went quiet a moment. “But then how do you think I manage each time you go out on a mission?”

The aquanaut stared at him. “What?”

“Well, your health has never been and never will be one hundred percent, yet you still dart down to the bottom of the ocean, jump off high places and do things just like the rest of us. Do you think I don’t think of losing you all the time?”

Gordon froze a moment digesting that his little brother still worried about that… “That’s different.”

“Is it?”

“Dad…okay, I get your point. But I’m also worried about Scott.”

“What?” Alan stared at him.

“Can’t you see what this is doing to him?”

“Er, what?”

No, Alan hadn’t seen. “I have never seen Scott so terrified.”

“I repeat – what?”

“When Dad told us he was going. Scott just…” He swallowed. “Dad is hurting Scott and I, for one, am not going to stand for it. Virg isn’t either.”

Alan was staring at him. “You said Dad was cold and didn’t care. Abrupt, yes, that’s Dad, but I can’t believe he doesn’t care.” The astronaut shook his head.

“If he cared, he wouldn’t have come.”

“Gords-“

“Alan, trust me on this.”

His little brother stared at him again. “I trust you, Gordon, you know that. It’s a given. But I also trust Dad. He knows what he’s doing.”

Gordon pressed his lips together. “He doesn’t know everything and I really wish you guys would stop worshipping him as a god.”

“He’s not a god! He’s just…Dad.”

“Yeah, and that’s the problem.”

There was silence after that. Gordon not willing to berate Alan any further. It wasn’t Alan’s fault. He didn’t have the history with Dad Gordon did. He hadn’t had to fight to swim. Hadn’t seen Virgil struggle with his choices.

Hadn’t seen Scott give his everything to his father only to have it…ignored.

But no, that was history. Long ago. Before the Oort Cloud. Gordon had his issues regarding his father. He loved him, but he was a difficult man under all that passion. Being the son of a hero wasn’t everything it could be.

Scott worshipped the ground his father walked on. Gordon, not so much.

To see his father hurt Scott like that…Gordon’s blood just boiled.

“Is Scott okay?” Alan’s voice was smaller than usual.

“That’s just it, Allie. I don’t think so. You know how he gets. Like before the Oort Cloud. I, for one, don’t want him going there again.” ‘There’ being more a mental place than a physical.

Alan’s head dropped. “No.”

A voice rumbled behind them and both jumped. Michael was talking into comms, to Scott, something about the aft sensor array.

Crap. It was a sign of his distraction that he had forgotten the Mechanic was there. He glanced over, but the tattooed man showed no sign of even knowing they existed.

Gordon sighed.

A hand landed on his knee. “It’s going to be okay.” Blue eyes sought his. “It will be, Gords.”

He let out a breath, suddenly wishing he had Alan’s faith.

If anything happened to Dad…

“It. Is. Going. To. Be. Okay.” The hand on his leg squeezed tight.

But Gordon didn’t answer.

-o-o-o-

The drop of the communication buoy saw all of them back in the cockpit. John was the mastermind behind this little exercise and Virgil was, as usual, very proud of his space brother.

The design was ingenious, of course. John had taken a portion of the T-drive technology and applied it to communications. The same Tunnels created by the engine could be used to push what would otherwise be a simple comms signal through to the next buoy at a vastly accelerated rate. His brother had been working with Brains to realise this technology. Back in Earth orbit, a satellite connected the new network to the planetary network. On the way out, they would connect the Jupiter system. On the way back, they would connect Mars. Time delay communications would be a thing of the past.

Possibly as a tension reliever, John’s first signal went straight to Lady Penelope.

Gordon’s demeanour shifted immediately. His excited babbling did much to lighten the atmosphere in the cabin. The uninformed wouldn’t have been blamed for thinking he hadn’t spoken to her for years. Virgil knew for a fact the two of them had had a conversation shortly before they left.

The concept of ‘young love’ made him feel old.

And indicated just how tired he really was.

But sleep was something he couldn’t see happening very soon. Sure, he could try to take a nap en route. Hell, he had to. But his head was full of worry that likely wouldn’t let him rest.

Scott let Gordon babble for a full minute before cutting him off with the mission. Perhaps the commander saw how much the atmosphere needed to be lifted from the black depths they had fallen into.

Virgil hated it when his family argued. It didn’t happen often...okay, maybe they did quarrel every now and again - it came with the territory of working together. But nothing deep like this. Nothing that cut into the core of their very foundation. The surety that held them together.

Virgil sighed.

“Ready for jump.” Scott’s voice was all command and it forced Virgil to focus.

Pre-jump checklist as his brother called out to each of them.

“Airframe?”

“Craft secure. We are go.”

Blue eyes flickered to Michael. “Propulsion.”

“T-drive ready.”

“Helm.”

Alan’s back was tensed, his hand on the lever that would propel them further away from Earth. “Ready.”

The familiar countdown, such a part of their lives. Scott’s voice carried security...and Virgil’s faith.

Alan’s arm moved.

And the Excel jumped.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds #Gordon Tracy #Alan Tracy #Virgil Tracy #callisto

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enviedear · 5 years ago

Text

satin and boots → draco malfoy

DESCRIPTION ⌙ in which draco attends a gala hosted by a fashionable y/n and her elegant best friend. draco learns they love a good boot. and a good treehouse.

PAIRING ⌙ draco x fem!reader

WORD COUNT ⌙ 2.4k

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“that’s absolutely hideous. makes me want to wretch.” lukas groans.

“it’s not that bad..” you say, looking down at the magazine.

lukas scoffs, “y/n for someone who’s been to countless fashion shows, you have zero taste. that dress,” he says pointing to the teal chiffon garment in the magazine. “well that dress should be a crime. and not in a good way.”

you laugh a little and flip to a new page. adorning the page is beautiful spread of satin mauve gowns.

“this is the one!” you exclaim, pointing to a tighter fit version of the colored gowns.

“place an order for it! it’ll come in time for my parents gala! i’ll make sure to get a matching tie.” your friend gleams.

the two of you are gushing over what accessories to wear when you’re interrupted.

“look blaise, the hufflepuffs have moved on from planting and cooking to pursue something more meaningful... shopping.” draco smirks.

you roll your eyes at the boy. malfoy could be such an annoyance for no reason.

“draco i think you’d benefit from a day with us. those shoes are so ghastly.” lukas snorts.

you giggle and tell your friend to play nice.

“whatever, avery. you and your blood traitor parents wouldn’t know the first thing about luxury.” draco seethes.

your best friend, lukas avery, a part of the sacred twenty-eight pure-blood families. not like he or his parents care. that fact, annoys malfoy to no end.

“malfoy leave us alone, i don’t see why you constantly have to instigate with everyone.” you say.

blaise grins at you, “draco you’ve upset the poor girl. you know how sensitive the ‘puffs are.”

lukas gets up from his seat, pulling you with him. he glares at the two slytherin boys before leading the two of you to the hufflepuff common room.

“i cant believe my parents invited their families to the gala. i swear i’m going to kill zabini and malfoy if they ruin my night.” lukas complains.

“don’t worry, i doubt they’ll cause a scene there. they can’t afford to make their perfect families look bad.” you joke.

—

the day of the gala comes quickly. on one of the hottest days of the summer. you wouldn’t have cared if it weren’t for the fact that the avery’s had you and their son setting up the outside for the gala.

“mother, do we have to bring all the tables in the gardens? cant the servants do it?” lukas asks.

his mother, jane, gives him a sharp look.

he quickly gives up on his idea and the two of you walk to the gardens, tables and chairs in tow. the avery’s gardens are lovely, full of green grass and a pleathora of gorgeous flowers.

“this wouldn’t be a problem if we could use magic.” you say, placing a chair by a small metal table.

“you stop complaining! i carried way more than you.” lukas scoffs, fanning his flushed face.

“you’re such a dic-” you stop before you finish, spotting his father beside the two of you.

“hi thomas!” you greet the tall gentleman.

he eyes you before saying, “i hope you can improve your choice of words by tonight, y/n. i’d hate to have to send you to bed early just because you start using you colorful vocabulary.”

lukas snorts as you sulk.

“you two can start getting ready, take your time. when you’re done i expect you two greet guests with me and your mother.” thomas tells the two of you.

“us? greeting everyone? even the malfoy’s?” lukas grimaces.

“yes lukas, even the malfoy’s.” thomas chuckles.

getting ready definitely distracts the both of you from any thoughts of annoying pureblood families.

you help lukas into his grey suit. the suit jacket is asymmetrical and he wears a mauve silk turtleneck under it.

“black boots or snakeskin?” he questions.

“snakeskin. you have a statement to make.”

then he helps you slip into your mauve gown. it hugs your curves wonderfully. the dress is held up by two thin straps and drapes down your chest. it’s a simple gown, but the tightness and texture make it a a sight to behold.

lukas does your hair to your liking and helps you clasp your necklace.

“we look dashing.” he smiles at the both of you in the mirror.

“i must say, we clean up expertly. also, i better get my earrings back after tonight. you stole my last pair, and i won’t let you this time.” you say tugging slightly on the crystal earrings he’s wearing.

lukas waves you off and holds his arm out for you, leading you down the spiraling staircase.

“look at how beautiful they are, thomas.” jane smiles, winking at you.

you thank her and take your place beside the family, beginning to greet the guests.

most of them you know through school, and easily sparked up converstation.

besides pansy, she wasn’t too keen of talking to you.

after an hour you began to feel tired of sparking up the same converstation with people. you were beginning to wish could banter with malfoy just for a change in conversation.

almost on cue, the malfoy’s enter the room. lukas glances at you and playfully rolls his eyes, earning a subtle shove from his father.

“lovely gala you’ve put together, jane.” narcissa says before greeting the rest of you.

“i’ll have to agree with my wife. everything looks immaculate,” lucius says. “and your son is growing up quite nicely. he takes after you, thomas”

as the parents drift off into a conversation, draco clears his throat. you look at him and smile.

“i see you’ve gotten new shoes, malfoy. i must say, you can’t go astray with a good boot. good choice.” you say.

lukas snickers, “although an off white suit? thats questionable.”

draco glares at him before retiring hs attention to you, “you look nice. i almost didn’t recognize you.”

you scoff, “i look extactly like myself, draco. i’m just in a tight dress.”

he doesn’t say anything, but instead, looks you up and down and smirks. you don’t know why, but the gesture sends a shock down your spine.

soon the malfoy’s make their way to a dining table, and you continue to greet guests for a few more minutes.

“lukas, escort y/n to the dance floor for the first dance. and please, do not try any new dance moves you saw at the ballet. we don’t need a repeat of last winter.” jane tells her son.

“it wasn’t my fault.. y/n didn’t practice.” he mutters.

you and lukas make your way to the middle of the ballroom. his right hand envelopes your own and he allows his left to sit at your waist.

suddenly the music begins and you and your best friend float around the room elegantly.

you hear a few ooo’s and ahh’s. that eases the awkwardness you feel about being the opening dancers.

“malfoy has a crush.” lukas whispers.

“how riveting.” you huff, focusing on the steps.

“oh, not just any crush. it’s you, love.” he says, dipping you down and winking.

“are you sure he’s not smitten with pansy.” you say, quirking your eyebrow up.

lukas raises you back up and spins you, “that’s a stupid question, no one likes pansy.”

“that’s rude.” you chastise.

“well she doesn’t know i said it. i think you should ask him to dance.” lukas grins.

the music stops. the guests clap respectively.

“i thought we hated malfoy?” you say.

“we don’t hate anyone. just ask him.” lukas tells you.

before you can protest, lukas leaves you going to dance with leo greene.

there was no way you’d ask malfoy to dance. so instead, you go to sit at your table. there’s an array of foods and cocktails to indulge, and indulge you do.

a boring hour passes and you decide to escort yourself to the gardens. by now, the stars are out and the guests are all inside. you’re all alone. as you walk through the hydrangeas you faintly hear your favorite song being played on the piano. you smile to yourself and gently sway to the beat.

“cant find a dancing partner, y/l/n?” draco asks, poking his head out in front of you.

you shriek and cover your mouth.

“don’t scare people, malfoy!” you say, slapping his wrist.

“oh please, i didn’t mean to,” he pauses and looks up and down at you again. “want to dance, y/l/n?”

you give him a questioning look but take his hand anyway.

“please refrain from stepping on my feet.” he teases.

“if i step on your feet it’s deserved.” you reply.

he rolls his eyes, and begins dancing with you.

“lukas is under the impression that you, draco dear, are harboring a crush on me.” you tell him.

“a crush? i’ll say i find you beautiful, but i don’t have a crush on you. you’re a half-blood hufflepuff.” he snorts.

you knew it. there was no way malfoy could have a crush on you.

“that’s what i said.” you say plainly, allowing him to continue guiding you through the gardens in a simple dance.

“what’s that over there?” malfoy asks nodding his head in the direction of a tree.

you look over and see he’s talking about the treehouse lukas and you built your first year. you smile and look back to him, "would you like to see?"

"i guess.." he says, letting you go.

you lead him to the tree house and tell him to climb up, you follow suit.

inside sit a conglomeration of things lukas and you have collected over the years. there’s a badger plush toy, bean bags, a muggle radio with stickers covering it, a love letter a muggle boy wrote you fourth year, an empty bottle of whiskey, and a hufflepuff flag.

draco looks the place over and picks up the letter.

“what is this?” he asks, shit-eating grin covering his pale face.

“that is none of your business!” you say, grabbing the letter.

“no no, hand it back. i want to see.” he says.

you glare at him, “you’ll just make fun of me.”

“i swear i won’t make fun of you, now give it here.” he says, snatching it up.

he scoffs before looking back down to the letter.

he begins to read aloud, “my dearest y/n, i get very sad when you leave for school. i wish i could go with you. i miss seeing your pretty face all the time. the boys back home miss you too. when you get back i think we should all watch the rest of the star wars movies. josh’s dad got them all for christmas! i miss you so much. i think i like you a little too much now. the other day while i was in the shower i started thinking about your pretty eyes. and now, i’m certain they’re my favorite thing about you. i hope school is going well! i was sorry to hear about that guy that was making fun of you.. drago? don’t let him get to you. he probably doesn’t know how to talk to a pretty girl like you. some guys are insecure like that. oh and can you send those weird chocolates again? last thing, i remembered you liked my jumper i had on the last you saw me, so i sent it to you. i hope you’ll wear it! i cant wait to see you.” he finishes and looks over to you.

“drago? i assume that’s me.” he says.

“yes, draco.” you reply

“i wasn’t that mean to you fourth year.” he insists.

“oh, you were beyond mean. you were a complete git, malfoy.”

he laughs and places the note back in its place. turning to look at he the bean bags.

“what are those?” he quizzes.

“you sit in them, they’re called bean bags.” you relate.

he glances around the room once more before sighing.

“what now, malfoy?” you ask.

“i lied.” he declares.

you furrow your brows, “about what?”

“when i said i didn’t have a crush on you. i do. i like you. you’re... nice.” he admits.

“i’m nice?”

“well amongst other things, but i didn’t want to fuel your ego. salazar knows you have enough of that from hanging around avery.” he replies.

“i would like to say i as well have a crush on you, but i feel like this is some sort of prank you’re pulling on me with blaise and pansy.” you quip.

“it’s not a prank. i wouldn’t go this far for a prank. y/l/n, i’m in some stupid treehut you made back in first year just because i like you. i made sure zabini and parkinson didn’t annoy you or your bloody friend tonight. and i danced with you in a garden of flowers. i don’t know how much more obvious i can be.” he nags.

you raise your brows, “okay okay, i believe you. i like you too draco. you’re... unique.”

he rolls his eyes at your joke.

“seriously. you’re a sight to behold. you’re beautiful, charming when you want to be, intelligent, and you know what you want.” you smile.

he returns the gesture and relaxes.

“but you have to stop being a dick or else i won’t entertain you.” you say, firmly.

“i can do that.” he remarks.

you laugh and pull him toward you. his eyes scan your face before leaning in.

“no way. seriously no way.” you hear lukas guffaw.

you look behind you and see your friend and leo, eyes shooting out of their sockets.

“oh fuck off lukas.” you giggle, throwing the badger at him.

“i’ll leave, i just-,” he blinks rapidly while pointing at you and draco, “that was just unexpected.”

you roll your eyes and wait for him to be far away from the treehouse before you lean back into draco and kiss him.

it’s a delicate kiss, full of innocence. it makes you feel utterly weightless.

“i have to get back to my parents. i’ll write to you though. i hear the avery’s are throwing another party before school. i’d like to have you as my date.”

“your date? but what about your parents. they wouldn’t like that one bit.” you ask.

“i couldn’t care less. at least you’re not a bloody muggle.” he teases, earning a slap on the wrist from you.

“i really like you draco malfoy. don’t mess this up.” you say, watching him ascend down the ladder.

he looks up at you and smiles, “never.”

#—myfics !#draco x y/n #draco x you #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy #harry potter #draco x hufflepuff!reader #draco one shot #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x reader #draco fanfiction #draco x female reader #draco lucius malfoy

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butmakeitgayblog · 5 years ago

Text

Demon!AU Snippet

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After much deliberation and help from my merry band of short bottoms, here's the decidedly most PG rated snippet I could find, enjoy? Hopefully?

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"Oop, hot delivery girl, incoming," Raven whispered, a devious smile stretching over her face.

"Wha-"

Clarke jumped slightly at the quiet thud beside her, eyes swinging around to take in the brilliant pink box now sitting squarely in the middle of her desk. Before she could react, a grey skirt covered hip slid just over the edge of her desk, nudging aside her nameplate and outgoing stack of mail to create an impromptu seat.

"Morning, gorgeous."

She barely bit back a groan at the voice.

Raven grinned, leaning forward on her elbows and looking up at the woman now perched on Clarke's desk. "Well, good morning to you too, Lexa."

Perfect.

Clarke tried her hardest to stay focused on her annoyance at Lexa having such a brazen disregard for things such as personal spaces and belongings and the entirety of office etiquette, pushing down the thoughts of how well that satin burgundy shirt hugged every last one of her curves.

Cheeks pinking in failure, she compromised and settled on averting her eyes to the safety of her computer.

"Oh, morning. Did you do something with your hair, Reyes?" Lexa questioned, reaching out right across Clarke's screen to gently tug on one of Raven's flowing locks. "Sexy. Looks good."

Sighing in resignation at the obviousness of Lexa's antics, Clarke stopped typing and flopped back silently in her chair, feeling that typical flare of anger. Because who did that? Who does this? Who just sits themselves down on top of a veritable stranger's desk and starts flirting with their coworker? Who practically shoves their ass in someone's face just to sweet talk and charm someone who is distinctly not the work area's owner?

"I did," Raven said, breaking through her silent tirade with pleased smile tinting her features. "Got it trimmed over the weekend and got an oil treatment. Thank you for noticing."

Feeling a pinch to her arm Clarke grunted a soft, "Ow," sucking in a breath as she rubbed the injured area and glared at her friend. "I'm sorry, okay? I told you I had a rough morning."

"Oh, no. What happened? Bad dreams?" Lexa frowned, tucking a wisp of blonde behind Clarke's ear before pulling back. "Or good dreams?

Blue eyes flew up to the face obviously fighting a smile, an unreadable glint coloring the hooded gaze looking back.

Sucking in a breath at the insanely inappropriateness of that, at feeling somehow Lexa was currently seeing every flash of their torrid dreamtime coupling that was currently flying through her mind at that very moment. Clarke coughed out a quiet choking sound before clearing her throat with a shake of her head. "No," she stated, adjusting in her chair at the tick of a brunette brow and adding firmly, "and no... I'm fine."

Turning back to see her coworker smirking and glancing between them, Clarke narrowed her eyes and pointedly continued. "And I would've noticed eventually, Raven. It's been like five minutes since you sat down."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Lexa noticed at least," Raven flicked her wrist in dismal. "Who needs you?"

"Rave-"

"Ignore her, Clarke," she heard as slim fingers slowly turned her head forward and up, finding a heated grin zeroed in on her. "I need you."

The altogether too intimate touch and tone was gone before she could even begin to process it as Lexa casually moved to open the box beside her, flipping the top and continuing as though nothing had happened.

"Anyway, I had a craving this morning and couldn't stop myself, but I definitely went a little overboard. Figured I'd share."

Breathable oxygen still very much an issue after the gentle handling and warm words, Clarke dazedly looked down to see a small array of sweets.

"Oh my God," Raven moaned, pitching forward over the span of their desks to look through the variety of cupcakes with eagle-eyed precision. "Have I ever mentioned I love you, Lexa?"

"Buttercream can have that effect on people," Lexa hummed, leaning a palm down to support her weight as she practically lazed back across Clarke's desk. "Help yourself. Just leave the-"

"I know, I know," Raven rolled her eyes, fingers already lifting a chocolate and caramel monstrosity out of the box and bringing it to her mouth.

Snapping out of her reverie, Clarke drew in a quick breath and tsked at her deskmate as she sat back down. "It's like eight in the morning, Raven."

"So?" she muffled through a face full of cupcake.

"Technically, it's 8… 22," Lexa unhelpfully supplied, checking and then double checking the gleaming white gold watch sat neatly on her wrist. Clarke watched a slim finger drag through the chocolate of one of the cupcakes in a slow swoop. "Everyone knows you're allowed to sin after 8am."

"That makes no sense whatsoever," Clarke frowned, her focus now centered entirely on the woman draped over her work area.

"Trust me, Clarke," Lexa assured in a whisper while bringing the frosting covered fingertip to her mouth. Full red lips wrapped around the sugary digit before sliding it back out clean. "I'm an expert."

With that Lexa hopped up, legs swinging out in a graceful swoop as she lifted herself back onto the ground and hands slid over her chest in a show of straightening out the delicate fabrics of her clothes. Clarke valiantly tried not to watch how the slick material bunched and tugged in all the right places, a small inner voice chastising herself when the only coherent thoughts were of the fit and cut of her outfit.

It was annoying how everything seemed to fit like it was made for no other body than Lexa's own.

"Raven, I have a meeting at 11 that I need you to push back to 3," Lexa said as she finished her preening and collected her confectionery haul. "Charles wants to go over the contracts for a new client so I'll probably be busy dealing with kissing his ass until lunch."

"You got it, boss lady," Raven nodded, immediately turning to her computer at the instruction. "Not that I believe for a second you kiss anyone's ass around here."

"Oh, there's one or two," Lexa hummed, actually having the nerve to openly let her eyes trail over to Clarke for a moment, throwing in a final wink before sauntering away and leaving Clarke to her ruddy cheeked stupor.

Traitorously her eyes followed after, watching the hitch and sway of rounded hips and long legs as they glided through the office in high, pristine heels. Strong yet slim shoulders flexed with the confident swing of toned arms as she walked like she owned everyone within sight. The dip of her back looked so good wrapped in the smooth material of her blouse, its color and texture seeming almost liquid in the sunlight that slanted through the tall office windows; its smooth deep color spilling over the curve of her firm, full, squeezable looking-

"You need some alone time with that view?"

"What?" Clarke startled, head snapping back around to see her wickedly grinning friend as she carelessly took another bite of her treat.

"You looked like you were trying to get her pregnant with that stare."

"That-... No. Shut up. I wasn't even-... Shut up."

"Articulate. But what I don't understand is why you act like such an angry virgin every time she's around," Raven said, thoroughly ignoring the horrified look that stretched over Clarke's face. "I mean the girl comes up with the dumbest excuses to come talk to you, and you barely ever say two words. At least none that aren't hostile."

"She doesn't though," Clarke argued despite Raven's dubious look. "She came here to flirt with you. 'Ooo Raven, your hair's so sexy'," she mimicked in a nasally voice, dodging the free hand slapping her away as she moved to caress Raven's admittedly beautiful black tendrils. "Besides her being an HR ticking time bomb with how obvious she is, you're married for God's sake."

"You're so dumb. She didn't come here to flirt with me, dude. She came to give you that," Raven laughed and shook her head, reaching over to tap a finger on Clarke's desk.

Clarke followed her line of sight, face scrunching up in surprised confusion at noticing the perfectly placed red and white cupcake sitting on the front edge of her desk.

"Haven't you ever noticed whenever she 'accidentally' gets too many cupcakes, miraculously and mysteriously there's one red velvet in there? And it always miraculously and mysteriously ends up in your very own little combative ass hands?" Raven asked, rolling her eyes at Clarke's disgruntled look of dawning realization. "Homegirl sure as hell doesn't know my favorite flavor, I take what I can get."

"... I guarantee you, it's a coincidence," Clarke said immediately busied herself with fixing the arrangement of her work belongings. "Lexa's… I don't even know what. But thoughtful or kind or whatever the hell everyone here seems to think, isn't one of them."

"What has she ever done to you? Why do you dislike her so much?" Raven asked.

"How do you not? She's so… I mean how does no one else see it? She's insanely unprofessional, and says just the, ugh. The things that come out of her mouth. She flirts with everything in a skirt and bosses people around who've been here for years. Besides, haven't you noticed all the weird stuff that's happened?"

"Clarke, we're a startup marketing firm that caters to millennials. Of course there's weird shit going on around here. It's a circus filled with idiots."

"No," Clarke said firmly. "You don't get it, you weren't here before she got here. Things were quiet and fine at the old building and now everything's crazy. Contracts always going missing, John literally just disappeared one day-"

"You realize he probably just quit."

"The whole office has this weird vibe now," she continued on a roll. "I have never seen so many mess ups and freak accidents in an office building of all places before in my life. And she's always just… there."

Raven just stared at her with a blank look of boredom, slowly chewing a bite of her cupcake before swallowing and shaking her head. "Again. You realize everything you described sounds normal for a company who's recently expanded, right? Personnel turnover, paperwork mistakes, general growing pains as they adjust? And you're blaming her for that? When she's literally been nothing but nice to both of us?"

"She just… rubs me the wrong way."

"I think your issue is wanting her to rub you the right way."

Clarke scoffed in an overwhelming show of disgust, ignoring the swoop of her stomach to needlessly re-straighten the pile papers in her hands before carelessly tossing them aside. "You've lost your mind if you think I could even think about her like that. I've seen the way she looks at other people around here, believe me, she's not all sunshine and cupcakes. There's something up with her... Besides, she's annoying. And cocky. You guys treat her like she's God's gift but in reality she's just another asshat lawyer who thinks she's the master of the universe… And she's not even that pretty."

Clarke hadn't meant to go on such a vitriolic vomit of words but it was hard sometimes having to listen to the endless poetic waxing of the woman's praises. It just never stopped, and Clarke genuinely couldn't understand how not one single other person seemed to be able to see through Lexa's bullshit. Her pompousness and irritatingly smooth talking at every interaction. Like somehow her taking the time to figure out Clarke's favorite cupcake and going to the trouble of buying it for her… and hand delivering it to her desk… could or should somehow make up for the salaciousness of her smirk.

"Hey, Clarke?" she heard beside her after a moment.

"What?" she breathed, trying not to let her frazzled nerves get the best of her as she faced Raven with expectant annoyance.

"Can you turn this way?... Now do this," Raven asked, tilting her own head this way and that as her eyes roved over Clarke's face from different angles.

"Why?"

"Hm? Oh, I'm just thinking about what contouring would work best with your clown makeup, you gigantic fucking liar."

She easily ducked the halfheartedly slap Clarke aimed at her shoulder before carelessly tossing her empty wrapper in the bin between them and swiveling to resume tapping at her keyboard.

"I'm just saying," Raven continued, "you're fooling no one with that act. You'd have to be blind not to see how attractive that woman is. I'm happily married and even I don't exactly mind watching her shake her ass past your desk fifty-some-odd times a day. She's a hottie with a body, Clarke. Everyone, including you, can see that."

"You're as bad as she is. And I'm telling your wife you said that."

"Bold of you to assume I haven't said it to her myself... Granted, it was in the context of me wanting you two to just knock boots already, but she's aware I work with eye candy and she doesn't care. My lady knows I'm faithful, I can eye-fuck whoever I want."

"You and Anya defy all sense of reasonable relationship standards."

"That was part of the deal," Raven hummed, clearly becoming more distracted as she leaned closer to her screen and focusing on her work.

Sighing deeply at the apparent dismissal, Clarke resigned herself to the day as she clicked back into the long list of emails waiting for her… and begrudgingly took a bite of her cupcake.

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More soon 😈

#demon!lexa #clexa #lexa x clarke #clexa fanfic #it's still rough be gentle

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