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clairdelunelove · 3 months

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sunset boulevard

itadori yuuji x f!reader

genre: fluff! (blind date! one shot)

warnings: none, 2.6k words

synopsis: you don't do blind dates; too much risk with little reward. but your friends assure you that this time it'll be different. and when the epitome of 'the boy next door' starts talking to you at the amusement park– you think they're right.

a.n. haha, not my brainrot about itadori being so bad that I had to write this. and nu, I've never been on a blind date before but imma write about it :3

you created it on a whim. encouraged by your friends’ prodding and teasing about your love life- or lack thereof- so your fingers clicked on the newly downloaded app. meant to be just for fun. a silly topic for your girls’ night. “just for the plot,” you told them with a knowing shake of your head when they all impishly giggled. a generic dating app where most people on there had an ulterior motive and would do anything to achieve it. but you weren’t willing to accept that, promising yourself to keep boundaries. the limit that you’re willing to bargain on is a public date. emphasis on the ‘public’ part because your friends are already scheming. whispers about a netflix and chill type of date. but you sign into the app, choosing a couple pictures of yourself that are adequate enough to catch some attention, and write a creative bio. it’s impressionable. modest. wholesome. definitely not the route that your friends desired for you to engage in. “done,” you state matter-of-factly. a beat of silence passes. the realization that you’re actually agreeing to this sets in. much to your chagrin, your friends end up snatching your phone from your hands and adding their own spin to your profile. editing your pictures to the ones that they have on their phones. “we’ll set you up with someone good for you,” your friend reassures with a good-natured pat on your back. “real good,” your other friend slyly drawls and bursts out laughing with the others. you don’t know whether your stomach twists from nervousness or anticipation from their ruse.

ten minutes until your date is deemed late. twisting your wrist, you glance at your watch again just to confirm your suspicion and huff. you’d arrived half an hour earlier than the time your friends texted you. your motto was that it was better to be incredibly early than late, especially since you had no idea what your date looked like. but the fear of being deserted causes you to shift on your feet as you sidestep out of the way for a group of teenagers to pass. wouldn’t be the first time you’d get stood up. glancing upward, you double-check that you’re standing underneath the carnival’s main attraction– the ferris wheel. its bright, illuminated colors jump out at you, almost mockingly, as if to highlight the gloomy frown plastered on your face.

“waiting for someone too?”

the voice snaps you out of your daze and you’re left peering up at the person that seemingly appeared out of thin air. he’s attractive– the kind of appeal that leaves you breathless from his inquisitive eyes and easy grin. a slender hand is carded in his hair as he patiently awaits for your response.

“yeah,” you croak before hastily clearing your throat, “I am.”

it shocks you that he’s even conversing with you. clad in a yellow hoodie and denim jeans, he’s the epitome of 'the boy next door.' could probably win the role for starring in the newest coming of age movie that’s bound to gain revenue just from his visage. he’s adorned in vibrant colors that contrast your pastel-toned clothes and you self-consciously pull at your shirt.

“wanna check out that game right there? promise it’ll be quick!”

from the corner of your eye, you recognize that he’s angled towards you as the question leaves his lips. gosh, is he talking to you? almost like he’s inviting you to spend some time with him in the meantime.

dumbfounded, your mouth drops open as you point to yourself, “me? you’re talking to me?”

“of course!” he replies enthusiastically like it’s second nature for him to hang out with strangers, “might as well take advantage of the time, right?”

he adjusts his backpack by slinging the dark strap over his shoulder and turns to walk in the direction of the nearby carnival booths that have games lined up for customers. you note that he attempts to blend in with the crowd but his upbeat attitude is too perceivable. has a glimmer in his eyes that attracts the ogling of bystanders. luminescent signs light up the path to the section dedicated to the midway. wooden signs promising ‘fun’ and ‘a winner every time’ written in bubbly font. it’s enticing. it’s fun– an experience that you’ve lacked recently. and before you can argue that you’re waiting for someone, the blushy haired male ushers you to follow with a wave of his hand.

“c’mon!”

you’re lightly jogging after him, short strides compared to his long ones, and manage to catch up to him with an exasperated breath. he’s fit; not the type where his physique screams ‘gym rat’ but rather that he’s the epitome of good health.

catching sight of you beside him, he gleefully chuckles, “knew you’d be up for some fun! I’m–”

he breaks off to gawk at a booth that grabs his attention and instantly treads through the crowd to line up for it. the game has the typical objective of knocking over a pyramid of milk bottles. you stare at it expectantly, knowing that this midway game is usually fixed; bottles stacked on the bottom are filled with sand or lead that weigh in a couple extra pounds and the given ball is unusually light. he’s buzzing with excitement, though. hastily patting his pocket, he pulls out his wallet and whips out enough money to buy a turn.

“I’m itadori yuuji, by the way,” he finally continues his belated introduction while pushing the money into the midway worker’s hands.

“yuuji,” you repeat and savor the name on your lips, “these games are usually rigged, ya know.”

"are they?”

he doesn’t seem bothered by the carnival’s dirty tactic, however. merely chirps a word of gratitude when the worker tosses him the singular ball and deftly explains the rules of the game. the customary one chance to knock over all three milk bottles and you knowingly press your lips together.

yet, your eyes comically widen as he begins to strip his hoodie off and hands it to you, “can you hold this for a second? thanks!”

straight away, the movement coaxes onlookers to turn their attention to the both of you. steely gazes focused on the cuts of muscle on yuuji’s arm as he rolled his shoulder to stretch. you’re no exception. in fact, you take back what you earlier assumed about his physique. baffled by how his baggy clothes managed to cover his impressive build, you hurriedly turn your chin to hide the warmth that spreads across your cheeks and neatly tuck his hoodie under your arm. his physique is essentially out of a magazine— broad, beefy shoulders that taper off into a small waist.

your lips move before you can stop them. “you got this!”

an expression of shock paints his face due to your encouragement before he flashes you a lopsided grin; boyish before he concentrates. there’s a gleam in his eyes as he retracts his arm like he’s winding up to pitch in a baseball game. then, he lobs— no, hurls— it straight at the tower of milk bottles. the ball whizzes through the air and the targets come crashing down from the sheer power of his throw. it’s startling. dazed, you’re left wondering if the stranger you just met is secretly superhuman.

“we have a winner!” the midway worker roars to the enthusiastic crowd.

“yes!”

yuuji pumps his fist in the air as the worker and a couple people in the crowd come to congratulate him. he’s all smiles now. there’s a big, toothy grin plastered on his face when the worker hands him his prize; a large teddy bear that has a red bow on its chest and the sheer size of it has him grasping onto it with both hands.

“look!” he exclaims and gently shakes the stuffed toy in his grasp, “do you like it?”

you can’t help but giggle at the exhilaration behind his gaze, “it’s cute!”

he’s clearly pleased by your reaction, swiping a finger over his nose before bursting out into laughter and your heart fills. his habits are so endearing and wholesome that it’s heartwarming. abruptly, the teddy bear is pushed into your chest and yuuji's knuckles brush against yours from the maneuver. the stuffed bear’s big, beady eyes stare at you as yuuji deliberately turns to shrug on his hoodie again.

“it’s for you!”

his confession is a little muffled as he extends his arms through his sleeves and it occurs to you that he’s whirled away from you for a reason. a dust of pink washes over his cheeks and he runs a sheepish hand through his tousled hair.

“I won it for you,” he reiterates, almost bashful, “I mean, you did come and spend some time with me when you were probably busy but–”

it’s a stark contrast from the confident and affable guise that he’s shown you. a peek into his personality that you’ve yet to appreciate. he kicks at a stray pebble on the pavement while his hands are shoved into his pockets. the way his blushy hair is a similar shade to the tips of his ears causes you to inwardly melt.

your thoughts go haywire but a demure smile stretches across your glossy lips, “thank you, yuuji. I love it.”

he clears his throat, murmurs a comment about how it’s not a huge deal, and faces you. yuuji blinks— once, twice, and his gaze softens. then, he utters a compliment that goes straight to your heart.

“you look cute like that.”

it’s straightforward, candid but you still ask, “like what?”

“happy.”

you let him tug you to the next midway booth.

“aw, come on!”

yuuji’s droning is followed by the teasing nudge he gives you. the touch draws out a yelp from you and the sound immediately reduces him into a laughing fit. for now, the both of you agreed to do a little sightseeing before the amusement park closed for the day. it was already evening; the sky was a cascade of apricot and vermilion. a beautiful vision to match the day. spending time with yuuji was like being in a trance. time seemed to slip quicker when he was with you.

naturally, your fingers reach to pinch his cheek due to his antics.

“ow!” he cries and childishly rubs at the inflicted area, “not my fault I’m good at every game here.”

although the blushy haired male is telling the truth, you can’t help but pout at his words because yes– he was basically a professional at every game in the midway. you’ve tried your hand at a couple booths. yuuji insisted on paying for anything you touched and fondly watched. however, he was soon tagged in whenever you were unsuccessful and he managed to turn the game’s odds around. evident in the countless plushies that’s tucked in his strong arms. all of them were for you, of course. he just plucked them out of your grasp when you briefly mentioned how your arms were getting tired from carrying them around.

“you’re in denial!” he singsongs and grins wider when he hears you huff in exasperation.

“I am not in denial!”

“you are!”

“well, you’ve spent a lot on these games,” you pause to lower your voice, “and on me. you haven’t even known me for that long.”

unsurprisingly, he recognizes the concern laced on your words and stops walking. his brows furrowed. the teasing grin is wiped from his face and is replaced with a tender gaze. forever wise and dependable. he leans down, hooks a finger under your chin, and murmurs his reasoning.

“honestly,” his voice trails off in remembrance, “I barely have any time to do fun stuff like this so I'm taking advantage of it.”

the sentiment is supposed to be understandable, one that many individuals’ share in life. yet, you can’t help but assume that his words weigh heavier than the average person’s. it stabs at your heart to know that such a kind soul is no stranger to heartache.

“besides,” he interrupts your train of thought and gleefully grins, “I get to win a pretty girl some prizes. sounds like a win to me.”

with an affectionate compliment, yuuji cleverly brings back the light-hearted mood from earlier. he’s skilled at this– redirecting your focus through an optimistic point of view. one of his traits that you’re smitten with. fondly patting your head, he takes a step back and rises to his full height. he’s still gauging your expression, though. his eyes are like liquid honey from this proximity and you’re in awe. truth be told, you might never meet another person quite like him.

you can’t help but poke fun, “are you saying that you usually pick up girls at the amusement park, yuuji?”

“me? nah,” then he murmurs, a tinge of guilt coating his words, “I was actually supposed to go on a blind date here.”

the remark leaves his lips in a single, rushed breath like it’s been bothering him the entire time. he’s quiet. his arms tighten around the stuffed animals in his grasp and he tilts his head in contemplation. he’s internally battling himself. why did he have to open his mouth? is he ruining this and digging his own grave? frown deepening, he vaguely wonders if he should’ve brought it up in the first place. perhaps you would think of him differently and then–

from this angle you get a glimpse of his throat bobbing before he quickly adds, “but I liked this better.”

what the blushy haired male isn’t expecting, though, is how your face breaks into astonishment, “wait. a blind date? I’m supposed to be on a blind date too!”

you couldn’t believe your luck.

“you’re (y/n)?”

willingly nodding at his inquiry, yuuji sputters in disbelief and shifts the prizes under one arm so he can put a hand on your shoulder, “this is crazy! like, crazy in a good way but still– crazy! who would’ve thought, right?”

long arms blindly reaching for you, he wraps you into a hug that has your face squished into the hard expanse of his chest. he’s laughing wildly– a genuine sound that brings an emotion that knocks the wind out of you because he’s truly thrilled that you are his blind date. your fingers grip the back of his hoodie, allowing yourself to be engulfed in his warmth.

“and here I was dreading the blind date that kugisaki and fushiguro set up for me,” he thoughtlessly mumbles in your hair while retelling his own version of how his friends forced encouraged him to go.

pulling away, albeit unhurriedly, the both of you exchanged phone numbers and promises of keeping in touch were whispered into the evening air.

“you can text me whenever you want,” yuuji tucks his phone back into his pocket while sheepishly grinning, “even if you don’t have a reason to.”

cheekily texting him a greeting, for the fun of it, you grin when his phone dings at the notification, “I will.”

puffs of warm air swirl and intermingle into one. his eyes twinkled in the streetlights’ rays of light. it was romantic– sickeningly so that you wondered if you were dreaming.

yuuji ended up lending you his hoodie, chuckling when the bright, oversized garment swaddled you. he even walked you back to your place and waited in the chill until he heard the door’s lock click into place. there’s a bounce in your step when you waltz into your bedroom.

with all the stuffed animals neatly lined up on your bed, you instantly snap a picture of you and yuuji’s winnings. your fingers swiftly dropped the photo in your friends’ group chat before sending it to yuuji. and your lips curl into a smile when his text bubbles immediately appear on the screen. memorabilia of your first– successful– blind date with someone that was too good to be true.

#jujutsu itadori #jujutsu kaisen #yuji itadori #itadori x reader #yuuji itadori #yuuji fluff #itadori x y/n #itadori yuuji x reader #jjk x reader

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asylumdwellermoved · 8 months

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(m!degrees of brutality!harper, gn!reader, needles, dub/noncon, yandere, straight up evisceration and organ fucking im so sorry)

That day, for sure, he would do it. It had all just been too much.

There you were again, walking up to the front desk, asking to donate more blood. Probably taking the best care of yourself you could in your limited circumstances to not be too weak to get home after the amount of blood you'd need to give. Relying on him.

You were all he could think of since you last came in. His little fixation on you had definitely been growing. Afterimages of you would plague his mind while he works. Of you fidgeting in the chair a bit, the anticipation never failing to make you anxious. Of your face tightening a little as the needle nears your skin. Of the slight changes he'd notice when your body started to weaken. The desperation in your voice when you'd agree to giving more. There being enough of your blood slowly flowing in to almost fill up the bag...

He of course, smiles and obliges your request, subtly gulping down the saliva that had started to pool on his tongue. He starts to walk down the dingy halls. It's almost as if his legs are moving on their own when he passes all the functional offices. He imagines the growing confusion on your face the longer you walk.

"The usual rooms are under renovation right now... We have to use the older ones a little further back."

He doesn't look back as he muses on about how they haven't been maintained the best since they were last used, eyes focused on the doors towards the end of the hall. Your eyes widen at the sight of old blood still on the operating table right when he lets you in. He watches the disorientation and panic setting into your face as he pulls out the syringe. Why is that what you're focusing on when he's telling you that he loves you? How close he wants to be with you? How badly he wants to see every part of you? How silly of you.

What happens next after you drift off is a blur up until he's strapping you to the table and dosing you with muscle relaxant. When your eyes flutter open, he smiles, softly kissing you and savoring the taste of your lips before pulling away. The scalpel shakes slightly in his hands as he takes it from cart. He's trying to stay steady, he swears, but his excitement is getting the better of him. All you can do is weakly dart your eyes around as he idly talks to you to fill up the cold silence in the air, but it's okay. He doesn't need a response. Although it's a shame he can't see your unfiltered reaction when he slides the scalpel through your beautiful bare chest. He almost has to hold back a noise at the sight when he pulls the incision open. His trembling, gloved hands reach out and he pushes his fingers around the glistening red in the cavity of your chest. A few spots twitch at the intrusion and there's already a needy twitching between his legs as he tells you how good you're doing and how well you're taking it despite how the mind-numbing pain is starting to make you black out. How can you blame him when he gets carried away and your adorable intestines are messily halfway pulled out of your abdomen? His breath starts to pick up in a slow, heavy pant and he drags his fingers over the warm, wet entrails. His brain is in a haze now as he unbuttons his pants, fumbling a bit as his hands slip a few times from the blood coating his fingertips. The next thing he knows his bare erection is wrapped tight by his hand at the base and drooling onto the red mass below him. His lips are parted and he slowly rubs his length up and down, lewd noises sounding from his blood-slicked gloves against his skin. His tip gently prods at your soft innards as his hips unconsciously drew closer and a whine leaves his throat. That was all it took for him to clamber on top of the table, straddling your exposed viscera and enveloping his cock in it, sighing in desperation. He shakily grips your shoulders, pulling himself close to you and breathing hot against your neck as he humps against you, broken moans punctuating each thrust. The slick noises continue for a few minutes before quickly coming to a stop as he holds you tightly, hips jerking raggedly against your torso and coating your innards in a milky white. He shudders against you, breathing heavily and looking down at your ruined body. He notes that he'd need to get the semen cleaned out if he didn't want you getting infected. He sits there for a moment pondering before realizing that he hasn't gotten any softer.

He had a lot of work to do either way. A little longer shouldn't hurt too much.

#outing myself as absolutely batshit #might take away my harper privileges after this bc im kinda worried about being annoying for posting about them too much lol #harper the doctor #degrees of lewdity #dol #degrees of brutality #cw yandere #cw gore

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fluentmoviequoter · 2 months

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I'm a tiny lil bit struggling rn, do you have any random Victor thoughts to share to cheer me up? Could be anything, headcanon, random thoughts, does he insist on wearing only black socks so they fit his aesthetic? Also no worries if you don't have anything to say or don't feel like it, no pressure!

So sorry to hear that! Hope everything gets better quickly and talking Vic can help you!! There’s a bunch of my random, borderline incoherent thoughts and rambles below the cut!!🩶

I’ll start with the black sock idea! I feel like the answer is probably yes; every detail of Vic’s look (no matter how small) fits his aesthetic. Playing off of that, his style seems to be very sophisticated and dark, sort of dark academia-esque, so it all begins with the base and for Vic that means having one solid color, head to toe, to build his Parisian debonair look!!

Alternatively though, I think if Vic was going to wear something a little more colorful or wild (likely after persistent teasing and prodding from Syd) that he’d limit the colorful expression to his socks or some other piece that’s not visible to others!

One thing that I almost always think about when talking/writing/reading about Vic is that he has trust issues but he’s also an incredibly good judge of character. He trusted Mitch and Syd relatively quickly despite the number of people who have hurt him, so those two aspects of being hesitant to trust but understanding people so deeply allows Vic to choose both his allies and enemies quickly and with almost frightening accuracy.

Building off of something we’ve talked about with Vic’s sophisticated tastes, if he was a car he’d be an Aston Martin DB4GT Zagato!! It’s sleek, classy, and dangerously beautiful.

I also think that Vic is numbed to the emotions of others. Not necessarily lacking empathy, just unable or unwilling to read people’s feelings as easily as their personalities. (Like he figured Eli out really quickly but seemed to struggle with determining what Eli was thinking or feeling.) However, I think the opposite is true for Mitch and Sydney. He’s so attuned to their needs, because he is their first line of defense, their protector, their safe space, that he can look at them and know what they need to hear or receive based on what they seem to be feeling.

This one is probably wrong but in my mind Vic laughs when he reads his parents’ books in private! Especially if they happen to mention anything about parenting or being good/kind to the people around you.

Along with reading and editing his parents’ books, I think Victor has lots of poetry in his mind!! Whether it’s poems he’s read or come up with himself, he has a poetic reference for everything. Sometimes he just thinks them, other times he says them under his breath, but he has a deep understanding of how life’s beauty and ugliness blend together to create reality! His thoughts are formed poetically too; he can’t just think “that looks cool” it’s something deep and melodic, relating it to whatever he considers to be the most beautiful or interesting part of life.

(This is getting long. I’m sort of sorry.)

Victor is a human cat!!!! You of all people know this for sure, but it needed to be included. He likes having his head rubbed or hair played with (he’d never admit it and figuratively bite someone he doesn’t know well for trying), he 100% knocks things off tables on random impulse, and… it’s perhaps my strangest headcanon, but Victor purrs!! When he’s really happy or likes something a lot, he can’t show it because he has an image to maintain, so he purrs instead.

If Vicious came out in 2012, and we’re assuming that Lockland era scenes were ~2002, and he was approximately 22… then Vic would have been born in/around 1980 right? Even if he wasn’t! Vic likes 80s movies!! (I’m projecting.) He surprisingly likes The Goonies because it’s about a group of friends (which he didn’t have) who go on an adventure to save their town. All of the kids also think about their parents and their wellbeing (which Vic couldn’t understand but could appreciate the beauty of). He also likes Real Genius because of course he does, he’s like a more stoic version of Chris Knight!! (It’s one of my favorite movies and I’m still projecting.)

I think if/when Vic listens to music it’s probably alternative and moody/meaningful. He chooses songs and artists with poetic lyrics and then draws even deeper connections and ideas from them.

I’m not accepting any questions about this one (LIE) but Vic would look incredible in the outfit Pedro Pascal wore to the SAG Awards. Victor looks good in everything, but that disheveled pirate look would… I can’t even put it into words, just trust me.

Last one for now! Victor obviously has a soft spot for strays, so I think if he could go back to school, start over, whatever, he may consider vet school! It still plays into his traits of needing to be in control and have an incredibly meaningful and impactful job, but he’d get to help animals too.

Okay I lied one more. Victor Vale makes people work to see his smile! He smiled when Sydney brought him back to life but that’s one of the only times we get to see it. However, I wholly believe that after that, he sometimes just smiles at Sydney. More so when she isn’t looking, but he needs to do something to let all of the words he can’t say to her get out. But also! He has one of those smiles that is so pretty it will make you fall to your knees but you can also tell that there’s more behind it, that he’s not smiling just to smile but to communicate (or in some cases, foreshadow something that will happen to you).

#Victor vale #vicious #this is a lot. sorry?

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moodymisty · 2 years

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Rule Breaker

Author's Note: This is totally brand new and not something I posted 2 months ago on ao3 before I made this tumblr and just revised again because I’ve improved since nooooooooo

God, Boba Fett is so ungghhhsdfsasdasd

Summary: You hadn't realized it until just now, pressed under the stare of a beskar helmet; Boba really loved using petnames for you.

Relationships: Boba Fett/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, This is basically just filth with some scene building, Established relationship, Probably not the healthiest relationship but this is smut not relationship advice, Gratuitous overuse of the petnames 'princess and little one', Protective!Boba, Daddy kink, Oral(male receiving), Deep-throating, Messy blowjob, Hair pulling, Very light degradation, Armor/helmet kink, Semi-public sex(does a throne room count as a public place?), Clothed sex, Usage of the word 'bitch'(just being safe?) You know what you’re getting into with these tags lmao I warned you

Word count: 6454

Ao3 Link

-Nayc tigaanur: no touch(ing)

Never had you expected a bounty hunter to have so many rules.

But then again, Boba wasn’t any normal bounty hunter. That much you could gather for sure, though his lips were anything but loose when it came to those matters. Beyond that he was damn well one of the galaxy’s best, and knew it.

Most of the rules of his were relatively innocuous; Common sense. Don’t mess his ship or anything in it, no touching his armor when it’s off, and never be seen or heard in the palace when 'guests' were around, with few exceptions. Which meant this particular area, the throne room, was pretty much exclusively off limits. You’d only seen it a handful of times, and never for long.

He had insisted that last one was for your own protection; As many of those he was around were crime lords and other bounty hunters. A princess in the top of Mos Espa’s palace, he’d once said.

But curiosity always had been an insatiable beast, and soon enough you decided of your own accord to take a look around.

It was the mischievous, gleeful feeling in your chest that lead you down the halls, tip-toeing around to avoid being seen by any of the working droids. They’d rat you out for sure, if they saw.

Stepping in, you noticed Boba’s absence as expected. He'd been out wandering the city for the better part of the day, keeping an eye on things. Fennec would often accompany him, once or twice you had, but this time you’d refused. This time, it was the perfect time to snoop around where you normally weren’t allowed. Various trinkets and baubles were shoved in the corners of the room-most gifts, half-hazardously placed yet to be shoved into the vault by one of the droids. Ornamental weapons, precious metals, credits. All expensive, more than likely gifts from multiple different people. Or small crime gangs, attempting to keep their place in the ecosystem. They blended into the background enough that you hadn't noticed them before, stuck in the shadows towards the back of the room. Many in Mos Espa tried to give things to earn good favor he’d once said, with a distinct flavor of irritation on his tongue. As if it was inconvenient for him, getting such a large sum. You’d spend it, if it twisted his trousers so much; Snickering at your own joke. Fingertips dragging over the sandstone walls you peered down between the gaps of the metal grated trapdoor in the middle of the room, consciously avoiding stepping on it when you’d walked by it. You knew well enough what was down there, and you weren’t too eager to possibly wake it up. It didn’t take to long for you to path a good portion of the room, poking and prodding at anything that caught your eye. A tapestry, more than likely from Jabba’s previous reign, held your interest for longer than most, and part of you questioned if maybe Boba would let you decorate your personal room with it. The likelihood of him ever putting any use to it was slim to none, anyhow, as more than likely it would end up continuing to collect dust. You passed by it, still in the back of your head as your right hand grazes over the back of the throne. It was certainly a domineering one, solid metal and stone. A throne for a crime lord, not a prince, and it exuded an appropriate coldness to fit it’s owner.

At the top of a small set of stairs it also placed a height advantage on an already tall Boba Fett, and setting a heavy tone. You’ve seen Boba sat upon it before; Peering around the corner of the side entrance doorway or sitting on the arm of the throne and watching him speak to someone. Or more than one someone, as rarely did a person ever come to meet the Daimyo alone. That last time you’d seen it was without his knowledge, and you had fled from the doorway the second you noticed Boba’s helmet crook ever so slightly in your direction; But not enough to give away his lack of attention to the ‘guest’. His eyes had absolutely been on you; Even if you couldn't see them. Your feet had carried you to your room at a breakneck speed, unable to hide an almost devious smile on your face. Boba had found you not too long after, downright almost throwing whoever had the misfortune of speaking with him that day out of the palace. He ended up scolding you for your curiosity and nearly breaking one of his admittedly many rules, as Boba had little tolerance of insubordinate behavior. Though, you wouldn’t be lying to say the punishment wasn’t really a punishment, as his rough hands and sharp voice had done less than enough to make you truly learn your lesson. Now being an example, as you blatantly ignore it once more to have a little fun on an otherwise uninteresting day.

Tracing over the detailed metal on the back of the throne, your eyes dart upward when the silence of the room was pierced by a minutely distorted voice.

“Didn’t learn from the last time?”

He crosses his arms. “I thought you would’ve.” Looking over the back of the throne, Boba was standing in the entrance to the room, staring right at you. It only took a few long strides for him to come inward, unafraid of the trap door in the middle like you had been. He hadn't even made it to the throne before you spoke a half-hearted excuse, trying not to smile. “No one was here,” A soft shrug of your shoulders -you watched his helmet tilt slightly upwards. “And I wanted to take a look around.” Boba didn’t respond other than a hum of understanding, walking towards and up the set of steps to his throne.

His hands on his thighs he lowered himself onto it, leaning back enough that his shoulder blades were against the metal. His legs splay outward a decent bit apart, taking up a good portion of that giant slab of metal and stone. You softly step from around the back of the throne to the side, looking at the scrapes in the carved stone and wondering how its previous owners had looked in it.

It was hard to imagine, given how much Boba seemed to just become one with it; Like the palace had always been his.

Suddenly popping the bubble of your imagination however was the hard sound of his glove on the fabric of his armor; Boba patting his thigh. It was easy enough to guess what he was probably gesturing you to do, but you hesitated for a moment. Was he actually serious?

If he wasn’t serious about something however, it would be the first.

A louder slap against the harsh fabric threw you from those reeling thoughts, eyes darting to look at his helmet for a moment. He watched your eyes move from his helmet to his lap, unsure and hesitant.

But Boba was never a very patient man, his tone cut and dry. “What, do you think you’re going to break it? Sit.”

And with a slow shuffle your body moved, stepping between his spread legs and lowering down to plant your bottom on his right thigh. You didn’t quite know how or where to place your hands, balancing until his arm looped around your waist. So your hands settled at your lap, twirling the fabric over your legs. You could feel him watching, and you wavered under a gaze piercing through the visor of his helmet.

So you attempted to say something humorous; And attempt to forget about the feeling of heat rising up your neck to your face.

“I would like to make a request.” Was the first thing you could think of to say to break the tight silence, mimicking the words you hear some of his guests say with an almost sarcastic flavor to your voice. Though they were never so overt about wanting something from him, but you weren’t bargaining for the right to continue business under his rule, like they had been.

They also weren’t Boba’s favorite, even if he was always disgruntled by knowing that deep down, he gave you far more leeway than anyone else.

"If you’re willing to grant me an audience?” Boba hummed, the echo of his helmet distorting the sound ever so slightly. “And what is your request, princess?” He’d go along, play your cute little game. You could feel his hand still staying steady against your waist his fingers kept moving, fluttering up and down but with a harsh pressure. Uniquely Boba. “There’s that big tapestry behind the throne, and I want it. I think it would look nice actually being used, and not just sitting around.” The hand against your side grasps tighter, shaking slightly as if nodding in understanding. “Most people at least try to soften me up before starting to demand things.” His voice was a stoic, disproving tone, making you falter for only a moment. With a teasing smile, you raise your eyebrows expectantly. Boba showed no change in posture, at least that you noticed.

“Please?” Boba stayed completely silent and you groan, rolling your eyes and losing some of that playful expression. “Pretty please?” Nothing; Not a word. Even if he was going to joke along with you, it didn’t seem like he’d make it easy. You purse your lips and push them to the side in thought, wondering what he was trying to pull from you, even if it was endlessly amusing. Boba could only sigh, armor rustling as he adjusts his sitting position. “You are hopeless little one, if that’s how you think you’ll get the things you want.”

He clicks his cheek and squeezed the hand around your ribs for a moment. “Too damn spoiled.” It only took you blowing a raspberry to irritate Boba, watching with a firm set brow hidden behind his helmet as you threw a non-nonchalant hand. You turn away from a moment, before looking right back at him and smiling. “You're the only one that spoils me.”

You thought ‘spoiled’ was a bit of an exaggeration, but it went along with the teasing back and forth conversation you were trying to nurture. You didn’t get too many of these silly little moments with Boba. “Maybe I should stop then, if this is how you're going to be.” It was your eyes that changed first; Rolling while raising your eyebrows at him. He’d threatened that before, but he always ended up ending the game before he did, never truly serious. “Can I get my tapestry before you stop, at least? Unless you for some reason want it to sit and collect dust like everything else in the vault.”

The way his hand tightened to a clench on your waist hurt and caused you to breath in, feeling him tense under your body. Some of the gusto had left you now, feeling his demeanor suddenly change. Boba wasn’t one to back down on his word. Maybe, you were tiptoeing a little too far into the deep end. “Kark girl, ‘Yours’? A presumptuous little bitch, aren’t you?” His fingers tapped against your side, in the same way one would against the arm of a chair. “Just because you want something, doesn’t mean it’s yours to take.” Eyes glossing over his helmet, you suddenly feel more nervous under its cold stare. But you wouldn’t buckle quite yet.

“But isn’t that how you’ve always operated?” Never would you have guessed how much emotion could be relayed through a helmet completely obscuring ones face; Or maybe it was just how used you were to seeing Boba with it on. You’ve caught on to the little ticks, ones another might miss.

Leaning off the back of the throne and straight upright, the air around Boba changing as the ball for your game stayed in his court. Distinctly displeased with your tone, not even the echo of his helmet could hide his icy tone. He was bearing down on you-trying to force an obedient apology from your stubborn lips. “Ask nicely. Maybe I’ll forget you being a little brat about it.”

His hand is still firm against your side and his back and straighter, helmet tilted down at you.

The heat of Tatooine was normally suffocating, only breaking in the night to a harsh chill. But Boba set the air of the room aflame to a scorching heat despite the evening, hands firm on your body.

But you had to say it. It was on the tip of your tongue, and you had not enough self-preservation to think it maybe not the best idea. “At your age, you might just forget about it if I wait long enough.” It had slipped out of your mouth, to fast to catch it, but now you felt his hand tighten to a vice; A painful, almost bruising grip on your ribs. You’d already broken one of the admittedly many rules Boba enforced, as well as talking back like a petulant child.

"This is how you’re going to be?”

And so you’d tiptoed too far, and fell into the deep end. Sunk right to the bottom.

His left hand, the one that had been laying forgotten on your thigh, moved to grasp at your jaw. His rough, gloved fingers press against you face, forcing your cheeks slightly upward as he tilted your face to look him head on. “You’re going to regret talking to your daddy like that, little one.”

He’d never called himself that before; But goddamn, did it send the most startling jolt of lightning right between your legs. “Knees.” To busy computing what he’d just said, your eyes fluttered around the front of his helmet looking for a joking expression that wasn’t there, mouth agape like a dead fish. “Huh? I-” The hand around your waist quickly moved to your hair, gripping a fistful. With a yelp you grab at his wrist, lifting off his thigh and unable to do anything but follow, as he guided you to your knees between his legs. The hand loosened on your hair slightly, but was still unforgiving.

The stone floor was hard against your shins and knees, trying to grasp at the black fabric underneath his armor for support. Your fingers scrabbled for it, inching upwards towards the loose fabric on his thighs. What froze your movement was his other hand, moving around his body to remove the codpiece that laid tight against his groin. Once it was unlatched he tugged it away from him, landing with a clank against the right arm of the throne. With it gone, the tent in his flightsuit was quite noticeable, unimpeded by the hard beskar.

How long had he been like that? You wondered.

“Seems like you never learn your lesson. And I’m not going to repeat them again; I know you understand the rules.” Hand opening and sliding inside the groin opening of his flightsuit he fishes out his cock, glimpsing for a moment the dark patch of hair at the bottom of his stomach.

“You’re just a little brat who just likes breaking them. Do you think I’m just going to let you keep getting away with it?”

Already partly erect his tan skin was alight with a warm flush, twitching ever so slightly under your gaze. The hand still holding your hair he uses as leverage, tugging your face forward until his cock presses against your face. Lips against the underside as his cock lays over the bridge of your nose, he comments on your sudden lack of speech as your eyes look upward towards his helmet. You could just barely see some of the skin of his neck, muscles tight.

“What, now you suddenly know how to hold your tongue?”

Not answering his comment you take in a deep breath, steeling yourself against the heat taking over your body and making your cunt throb. He’d have to work to wear you down, not intent to just give it to him. But when the hand in your hair tightened, you whined through gritted teeth.

“Open.”

His grip stayed firm, going from a sharp pain to a dull, consistent ache. “Or I’ll do it myself.” Lips tight you hold firm for a moment, until you feel his hand twitch, thumb closing in on the corner of your mouth as if about to do so. Slowly your lips part with the tiniest ‘pop’, opening up just enough that he could see your tongue. His grip returns to your hair and doesn’t loosen an inch, firm as his helmet tilts slightly to the side.

“I know my princess isn’t that stupid.” He jerks his helmet upward in a tiny, quick motion. “Wider.”

With a moment of hesitation you open your mouth much wider, Boba watching the bottom whites of your eyes as you look back up at him. You weren’t moving your head on your own -in one final act of disobedience, forcing him to tug on your hair until your lips wrapped around the tip of his cock. It was hot against them, already tasting that light saltiness against the inside of your lips and the tip of your tongue.

It wasn’t a taste that stayed on just your lips, your mouth getting pushed down more and more onto his cock. It was a firm, constant pressure -testing your obedience. Once your lips were as far down his cock as you could take without gagging, Boba could feel your hands tighten on his thighs just as he reached that point; He stopped.

In and out, in and out.

Breathing through your nose your jaw was already starting to ache, glancing up to see him staring down at you. Feeling him throb in your mouth Boba was content to see your frozen hands shaking against his thighs, moaning around him. He was so close to being too much, his cock filling most of your mouth and pressing your tongue down.

“Good girl.”

Finally he moves, pulling your head away and relishing in the way you gasped for air. Spit was already trailing messily down your chin, even as your tongue wiped along your lips to try and clean them.

When Boba pushed your head down a second time it was less rough, opening your mouth to wrap around his cock again. His hand set your rhythm, bobbing up and down quick enough for you to get air in quick, sharp breaths. Sometimes you would groan, feeling him touch just barely against the roof of your mouth, teetering on the edge of too much. It kept making your eyes water, sometimes squeezing shut as Boba pushed your limits. Your nose barely brushes against the fabric of his stomach, and would’ve been against his skin if his flightsuit wasn’t in the way.

It was almost unfair the way you could barely hear him make a sound, denying you the relish of affecting him in anyway. Another part of his punishment for you, surely -as if he didn’t already know quite well you loved the way he looked in his full armor even if it prevented seeing his face. It makes your cunt throb even at the worst of times, seeing his body rigid in full Beskar while his emotionless helmet stared you down.

Watching your cheeks flush hot, jaw trying to adjust from having it open so wide for so long, lips swollen and messy, Boba dared to let out a soft hiss between gritted teeth as you whine around his cock. Pulling your mouth off of himself you cough, spit mixed with precum trailing down both corners of your mouth. You look a mess, meanwhile Boba seems barely inconvenienced. Outwardly.

“Apologize.”

Hands still desperately gripping at his flight suit you look up at him with an expression leagues away from the ones you’d given him earlier, face sloppy. You always try to disobey him when he’s like this, but he always seems to know the exactly the way to wear you down.

“I, I’m sorry.” He doesn’t change, and doesn’t seem at all pleased by your response. He continues to sit on the throne thighs spread, hard cock only just barely away from your touching your lips.

“Try again.” His hand pushes enough so that your face tilts further upward to look at him straight on, seeing your eyes look up at him. He loves the way they look; The color, the way you gaze up at him. “I’m sorry, daddy.”

The word felt odd on your lips, face feeling hot. The way it rang in a room far larger than his personal one only made it stronger -almost worried that it would reach someone who’s ears it wasn’t meant for. Boba only let out a curt hum in acknowledgment. His hand rakes your hair as he leans forward, as if almost threatening to tug it again if you answered him wrong. “Are you going to behave now, or be a spoiled little bitch again?” You give a small nod and wiped the spit from your lips before putting the hand back on him again. “Yeah, I can-” You cut yourself off before you could finish your sentence, feeling that try wouldn’t be the word he was looking for from you.

“I will, I promise.” That seems to be a satisfactory enough answer for him, eyes following as he leans back against the throne. The palm of his hand gives a light bump, forcing your head to bob forward closer to his cock for just a moment. “Good girl. Now how about you finish up.” His hand pushed the hair from your face, stopping it from obscuring your eyes as his palm cradled the side of your head for a moment. It was a gentle motion, even as he softly bopped the back of your head as if you needed guidance on where to go. He had loosened his grip a tad -content you would be obedient for the time being. It let you move your head at somewhat of your own pace, even if his hand and eyeless stare still set the tone.

You were still playing by his rules, even if he had given you a bit of leash.

You gently move your tongue upward along the large vein underside his cock before your lips wrap fully around him again, taking not a small amount of satisfaction from hearing him finally let out a breath harsh enough to hear. He was always so composed in comparison to you, making it always a delight to pull each little moan from him. You certainly had a fair share of your own, even if they were muffled by your mouth being full.

It wasn’t helping that your mind was cloudy, looking over what parts of Boba you could easily see, and pondering.

Thighs squeezing together in an attempt to lessen the feeling of your cunt throbbing between your legs, it proved to be almost negligible against that insistent, empty ache. It was obvious when you moved that you were wet, so much so that your underwear were probably well seeped through.

One hand still gripping tight at the black fabric of his flightsuit the other started traveling downward, wanting to place it elsewhere. To slip in into your underwear, touching yourself while you sucked him off. You thought you’d almost gotten away with it too -slipping down his leg disguised as a tender touch, but Boba had keen eyes. His leg jerked to throw your hand off, hand tightening in your hair. A soft noise of surprise slipped from between the seal of your lips, cock still halfway in your mouth. “Hands off yourself. You enjoy this too much already.”

He could tell the way your eyes looked up at him they were almost distracted, foggy with want as your head pulled up and almost off his cock, before going right back down to the base again. The flush of your face had traveled down your neck, entire body flourished in an inconsolable heat -while Boba’s upper body leaned every so slightly forward, almost covering your whole body in his shadow.

“But if you ask nicely little one,” He could so easily see how you felt, from the wanton look in your eyes and the vice grip of your hands, and the way your mouth wrapped tightly around his cock moaning with almost each bob of your head.

“Later I might just give it to you.” Boba let out a one note chuckle at the whine you made, tongue lapping against the tip of his cock. You could feel him twitching in your mouth, the salty taste of precum coating your taste buds. He was so close, hand tightening in your hair once again and forcing you to not move as much, tongue flattening against the bottom of his cock. It was easy to hear on his words, speaking with almost a slight breathlessness to them.

“As much as I’d like to cum in that cute little pussy of yours, this’ll have to do.” That empty ache persisted between your legs, cunt pleading to you as you pressed your thighs together like a vice. It wasn’t even a fraction enough to satisfy the way your body was screaming to be fucked, nails digging in to his legs while Boba was intent to torture you.

But gods the way he looked while doing it, upper body taut underneath his armor while a gloved hand raked through your hair against an aching scalp. When his body suddenly leaned up and back, the armor on his back clanging against the throne, you watched his helmet tip upward slightly.

“Dank farrik,”

Even if muffled by the helmet you could still hear his soft groans, Hand tugging at the roots of your hair. It sounded like he’d mumbled something else, though you failed to catch it. With a soft pop you unsealed your lips pulled back just enough around the head of his cock, so that he didn’t cum directly down your throat. A blessing, hot cum pooling in the pocket of your cheek instead. Your mouth quickly overfilled as you attempted to swallow, gulping down a large amount mixed with an overabundance of your own spit.

He felt your mouth move around him, accidentally brushing against skin already afire with sensations. You could just barely hear the echo of harsh breathing, mostly muffled by his helmet as he came down from the afterglow and his cock slowly softened in your mouth. Tensed muscles had since relaxed, his shoulders less firmly set. But almost as quickly as he had lost his composure he gained it, pulling back off the throne and leaning forward. One hand cupped the side of your jaw, while the other moved downward.

“What a waste.”

A thumb brushing across your lip he wipes away the remnants of spit and his own cum, pulling your lip slightly along as he does. “I’m sure you’d like my cock somewhere else, wouldn’t you.”

You didn’t respond, though it wasn’t like he needed much of an answer, anyways; Given they way you were still so obviously desperate. He let your mouth pull away from his cock, cleaning himself up and fixing his flightsuit by the time you’d wiped your lips clean. For a moment you’d forgotten you were in the area you were, and didn’t exactly have the upmost privacy. Having a look over your shoulder the sheer amount of open room suddenly made you feel more than a little exposed, shuffling back and forth on sore knees. When you turned back and looked up at his helmet, there was a hand gesturing upward. Your brain was still quite foggy, almost missing what he said. “Come up here, princess.” Standing up and wincing at the way your knees almost seemed to fight it, you moved quite slowly to crawl onto the throne. It was easy enough to sit on his thighs, legs bent on either side. The throne was large enough where space was plentiful, and it didn’t feel like your legs were cramped in between his and the arms of the throne. Boba’s hands rested on the small of your back, loose over one another. He only moved one to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, the rough fabric scratching your skin; Before moving it right back. It felt nice, but not as nice at it would've felt somewhere else. But his gaze remained unreadable through the visor of his helmet, even as your hands trailed up his chest. It wasn’t necessary a sensual touch, as they reached the tiny bit of exposed skin between his black cloth under his Beskar, and the seal of his helmet. You trailed them along his skin, back and forth, feeling the scars underneath your fingertips. It was silent request to remove the helmet -provided he was willing. His hands left your back, reaching up to click a hidden latch- at least hidden to you, and release the seal of the helmet. It pulled off in one smooth motion, brown eyes locking on you as he sat it on the arm of the throne. It hit the metal with a soft ‘clink’, looking over the room with a quick glance before going to you. When you leaned in Boba didn’t object to the soft kiss you laid against his lips, leaning forward as his hands returned to their previous spot. They gripped at the fabric of your clothing, even as he stayed almost completely silent.

“There will be more people in the palace soon.” The way he said ‘people’ with the flavor of distaste on his tongue was amusing -you wouldn't have needed to see his face to know how he felt.

“I guess I should take my leave then? Or can I steal some of your dinner too?” Surprisingly, Boba didn’t bite on your little quip, only responding to your first question. While your eyes darted around his face, you could feel his hands on you tighten even slightly. You hadn’t even made the tiniest movement to leave yet. You didn't exactly want to either, but unable to help the small adjustment of your hips as the way your were sitting proved to be a little too distracting. He hadn’t put his codpiece on quite yet, and you could feel the way he was pressing against your clothed cunt.

“We have a bit yet, little one. How about you-” His head jerked away from you, hearing the sound of chatter and clanging of metal down the opposite hallway you’d entered from. What cued the two of you in was mostly the sound of one of the droids making a fuss, Boba letting out a tired sigh.

Damn, seems Boba’s guests decided to arrive on time, for once. Quickly he ushered you to move until you were sitting in the position you’d been previously, despite your noise of discontent, on his right thigh torso perpendicular to his. Once more his arm wrapped around your waist, caged in the same obvious fashion as before as he fixed his armor to perfection. A protocol droid, new to the palace -you remember because that one in particular had been an absolute pain in the ass to clean up and get working, ushered the guests in before tootling away to another corner of the room until it was of further use. One hand grasping the back of the rim, Boba was able to deftly slip the helmet on before they entered the throne room fully. “You’re all back awfully soon.”

Helmet trained on the one in the middle of the pack, they slowly moved until standing almost completely in front of the throne; Only slightly off from dead center. Three men; Two human and one rodian. They didn’t exactly look like anyone of real renown, but gang leaders and their lackeys never much had job security on Tatooine, given the amount of in-fighting. The apparent leader of the trio, at least at this time, engaged in a small bit of pleasantly to try and appease Boba for arriving completely unannounced.

So these weren’t the people Boba was expecting.

Those pleasantries got cut off however as Boba simply circled a hand lazily through the air.

“Get on with it.” But by the time they had, you were already zoning out most of what they were saying. Instead you grazed a finger subtly over the armor on Boba’s arm, feeling the scars of wear underneath a layer of relatively fresh paint. If he’d noticed you doing it his helmet wasn’t turned enough to signal it, but you knew more than likely he was watching you. Someone else was as well clearly, as when you looked up, one of Boba’s guests apparently hadn’t found the current, mostly one sided conversation interesting enough. The younger of the two humans wasn’t bashful in showing his eyes were on your rather than the Daimyo; and in an act of equally obvious nature, Boba took his left hand and laid it extremely high on your left thigh. His thumb was almost brushing against your cunt, fingers slid deep between the soft flesh of both your legs. His hand was quite tight, looking over to see his tense shoulders. It wasn’t the first time someone had circled around trying to scavenge something of Boba’s; And it wasn’t the first time he’d been incredibly possessive.

Boba always despised the former, and would bite at any plucky young man who tried to sniff around you.

It seemed in an act of pure irritation at anyone taking too long of a leer at you, Boba decided you’d be better off elsewhere. You didn’t want to leave in all honestly, having gotten quite comfortable in what you’d now consider your knew favorite spot on his thigh. His head jerked in the direction of the doorway, to the hall that led past the kitchens and eventually, to your personal room. Not that you ever used it. Afterwards he looked right at you, thumb brushing across the edge of your underwear in a soft motion only known by the two of you. “I’ll be there in a bit, princess.” When you moved to slip off his thigh he suddenly tightened for a moment, leaning in close to your ear. You could feel the cold metal barely ghost against your cheek. “Nayc tigaanur.” Even if your mando’a was sparse, learning from hearing, it was quite easy to figure what he was telling you not to do.

You’d listen, but you certainly wouldn’t be happy about it.

Slipping off his thigh your shoes now fully hit the sandy stone floor, his hands sliding off of you. You’d mourn their loss, quickly racing down the two stone steps and past the ‘guests’. The one still had his eye on you, but they left the moment Boba cleared his throat.

When he’d be done was a mystery, but as you left, his tone had a distinct coat of irritation to it; Even with most of the words being unintelligible. Something told you he wouldn’t be far behind, almost knocking into a random droid as you jogged down the hall.

But once you got to your own room, you stopped. Turning to the right and looking down the hall, you could see the turn in the hall that would lead up the stairs to Boba’s own room. His was far more grand than your own, so you decided to sneak in there instead. It wasn’t like you spent much time in yours anyways. Having already gotten in trouble once for sneaking around, it didn’t seem like much harm to do it again.

After taking the steps up the door was heavy against your hands as you pushed it open, rough scarred metal against your palms. Inside was a much grander and cleaner area than most of the palace, fitted with a few conveniences besides the large bacta tank. Like a normal bed, which was far larger than your own and sat in the back of the room.

You always loved that bed; It was so, incredibly comfortable. And it looked even more comfortable now, as you were constantly trying to keep distracted and not acknowledge the ache between your legs.

Turning on a heel eyes grazing over the walls you spotted a blaster on a table, mostly in pieces. It caught your interest enough to pick it up, rolling the pieces around in your fingers. They were cleaned, but well used and worn probably, at least what you would consider, beyond repair. Boba seemed to think different however, given it looked as if he was in the process of repairing it. Perhaps it had sentimental value, you didn’t quite know.

“Now why did I know you’d be in here. Keep yourself entertained?” Boba stood in the doorway, before taking one step inward and closing it behind him.

“Didn’t have enough time to get bored; I thought you’d be a little longer, honestly.” He really had worked fast downright almost throwing them out of the palace, his helmet tilted to face you right on and sending a shiver down your spine. It seemed whoever actually had wanted to meet with him would end up getting the short end of the stick. The dark room did little to hide the way your face re-heated as he walked towards you, taking off his helmet and sitting in on his armor stand with a soft ‘thump’.

Your eyes followed him all the way until he stepped behind you; Chest armor against your back. His hand wrapping around your wrist and squeezing, it was just barely enough to make you drop the metal piece in your hand. While leaned down to tuck his chin in the crook of your neck, you feel his lips whisper against your jaw and light fire against your skin. He has you trapped between him and the table, his codpiece pressed against your ass.

‘Even though you hadn’t been been good, daddy would still reward you,’ Those soft words mumbled into your skin. He wouldn’t miss the way you caught a small noise in your throat, rubbing your lips together.

“Come, little one; Let your old man take care of you.”

#mywriting #boba fett x reader #reader insert #reader #boba fett/reader #TBOBF

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sheppyscribbles · 4 months

Text

Baby New Year

Story under the cut.

"Dude, this is amazeballs ... are you, like, actually pregnant? Lookit the way it moves when I touch it!"

"Hrrrgfh-- f--fucking contraction-- what is happening to me -- why is it fuCKING GLOWING--?!"

This was not how Levy had planned to spend the night of New Year's Eve. He just wanted to go to his pal Eddie's place, enjoy the block party, get fashionably drunk, and maybe get a kiss from someone random at midnight. Probably brunch on New Year's Day.

As it was, he woke up in his one-bedroom flat on the morning of 31 December feeling bloated and strangely jittery, like a bottle of soda shaken to its limit and left out for some unsuspecting schlemiel to open and spray half the room in Diet Pibb Xtra. Stretching didn't seem to help ... and when the lynx stumbled into the bathroom, he was only half surprised to find his wiry body graced with a rounded little potbelly that stretched out his abs.

"This is new," he muttered, prodding carefully at his sudden convexity. It didn't hurt, didn't feel uncomfortable ... if anything, the soft pressure of his broad paws on his tight middle was more pleasurable than he wanted to admit. In the end, he threw on some baggy clothes and went about his day as normal.

-----

By noon, however, Levy was getting nervous. That feeling of energetic pressure had been slowly building, and his jeans were riding low under the furry bowling ball he was carrying on his hips -- and he could swear they were getting wider too as he went about his errands. And yet no one he knew acted like they noticed anything weird! He decided to test this theory when he ran into Eddie at the grocery store.

"I ... dunno if I can make it to the party tonight," Levy stammered to the rotund bear. "I've been having some kind of swelling issue today, and I might have to go to urgent care if it gets too much worse ..."

"Aww, that's too bad, buddy! You know we'll miss you ... but you know you don't gotta feel embarrassed about your weight, right?" Eddie gave Levy an impish grin. "Not when I'm here to make everyone look skinny! Besides ... some women go for the 'dad bod' look, you know?" And without even asking, he gave the lynx's round belly a conspiratorial pat. Levy tried to protest, but ... that felt way too nice ... and he could swear it left him imperceptibly heavier ..?

-----

The day passed in a blur. A round, growing blur. Every time Levy tried to hide out at home, another surprise errand popped up to drag him halfway across town, hauling his bloated gut with him. And everywhere he went, familiar people completely glossed over his new addition like it wasn't even a thing. His boulder of a belly, wider hips, rounder backside drew as much attention as an extra throw pillow on a couch.

In fact, the only way people acted differently was how often their hands found his middle. It never seemed to be intentional, but Levy was no less perturbed by the relentless parade of pats, presses, wobbles, rubs, caresses ... did he look like a statue of Budai to them? Worse, why did every touch feel so good? At this rate, he was going to be craving tummy rubs like a common house cat. And it was still growing.

-----

By the time Lev arrived at Eddie's house, he was exhausted. Even his thicker thighs were having trouble hauling the tan beach ball everywhere, and he could swear he'd walked every inch of the city and talked to (and gotten felt up by) every person in it. The lynx gave up on dressing up nice for the evening, squeezing his massive body into the largest sweatpants he owned and hoping a sweater would cover at least his bloated chest.

And still he was the most popular person there! Neighbors he'd never even met found their way over to chat him up, wish him well, unconsciously pat his belly for luck ... at 10:30 exactly, Levy's sweatpants gave up the ghost and left him in his boxer briefs, and STILL no one seemed to notice or care. He wanted to panic, but all the belly rubs kept his mind swimming in a haze of too much pleasure.

By 11:45, Levy was pretty sure that literally every person in the city had touched his gut that day. It was the size of a yoga ball, heavy and tight and occasionally pulsing, shifting ... he was literally bare from the chest down, too big for any clothes he owned, and yet the other partygoers were completely oblivious. Was he going mad? Was he--*urk*--

The sudden jolt of squeezing pressure drove Levy to his knees. "H--holy shit, what now--hngrrreaouwrrh?!" He clutched as much of his belly as he could wrap his arms around. "... you've got to be kidding me ..!"

And suddenly Eddie's arm was around Levy's shoulders. "Hey, there you are." The plump bear gave an easy smile as he knelt next to the bloated lynx. "You doing all right, buddy?"

Suddenly Eddie's eyes widened, as though he saw Levy's condition for the first time. "Holy--" But then he grinned. "Dude, this is amazeballs ... are you, like, actually pregnant? Lookit the way it moves when I touch it!"

Levy was ... less than impressed, but his focus was on his heaving, flexing middle, which had started to glow on top of everything else. Worse, his body was reacting with even more pleasure, especially now that Eddie was rubbing over his belly in slow, steady circles ...

Time seemed to slow around him, people moving in a haze, an electric current running up and down his body and sending shudders through him. He was vaguely aware of other people in the room, but their attention was on the TV, chanting with a deep pulsing rhythm that seemed to match the throb of his own body ... fiiiiiive ... fooooouuur ... threeeeee ... twoooo ... wuuuuuuhhhhhh ...

Levy threw his head back in a screaming yowl, back arching hard and hips slamming forward as streams of pure energy erupted from him and bathed the room in every hue of light imaginable. The pyrotechnics on the TV screen were nothing compared to the fireworks blasting out of his body, sending a spectral shockwave across the city and bathing the people in a flood of hope and goodwill. By 12:01, Levy was out cold, utterly spent.

-----

"--right?"

"Znuhh?" Levy groaned and rubbed at his face. His paws felt heavier than usual ... all of him did, really.

"Sorry - I said, are you feeling all right?" Eddie was kneeling next to the lynx as he lay on the bear's couch. The bear had gotten a bit confused about how to help Levy recover and was dabbing the lynx's forehead with a handkerchief dipped in chicken soup.

"Never better, and that scares me." He gave a sheepish smile and sat up slowly. At least Eddie had covered Levy's lower half with a bedsheet ... even then, Levy was aware of some lingering bonus effects. "Did ... did all that really happen? I blew up like a party balloon and splooged good luck all over the city?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, dude." Eddie laughed, and his own soft belly bounced against the old football jersey he wore. "All I know is, the rest of the guests didn't even skip a beat. Just went right on partying till they all wandered home." After a moment, a wry smile crossed the bear's muzzle. "So do you do that every year?"

"I ... have no idea," Levy mumbled truthfully. "Had no idea what was going on there, got scared out of my mind ... Honestly, the way no one else noticed, I thought I'd gone insane." His expression softened a bit as he looked back to Eddie. "... thanks for helping me know it was real."

"Any time." Eddie gave Levy's hand a tender squeeze. "... hey, uh ... I know this is sudden and all, but ... you wanna come get New Year's brunch with me? You can borrow a pair of my pants, because hot damn, boy ..."

Levy doubled over cackling for a moment at Eddie's candor ... but when he sat up again, he was smiling warmly. "Y'know ... I think I'd like that."

#luprand art #furry art #fat furry #mpreg story #rapid pregnancy #metaphorical pregnancy #baby new year #male pregnancy #lynx #black bear

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tarmac-rat · 5 months

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1, 6 and 7 for Riley? :3

>:3

Demons of War: Is there a job that has left a permanent mark on your OC?

I once composed a made-up job for Riley's canon fic that basically borrowed on the concept of "what if two gigs by two different fixers unknowingly intersected?" and yeah, that one was right before her breaking point, so she's not taking any of the aftermath of that very well. It's probably some of my favorite Johnny + V dialogue I've ever written and basically has her confronting her own mortality and beliefs head on in a way she never really has before. Bad night for Riles, I can say that much.

More canon gigs that really left an impact on her were Backs Against the Wall (the whiplash of thinking she could reason with Hare vs. the aftermath of trying? She went to a bar straight after), Dirty Biz (kids are a really big 'off limits' point for her, and she went in firing on all cylinders basically), Family Matters (given she has a brother, that gig ended up prodding a very big open wound for her), and most recently The Man Who Killed Jason Foreman (Riley has killed a lot of people in a lot of ways for a lot of reasons, but very rarely has she committed an execution like that. That was another all-night bar trip), though that one I don't consider canonical.

Bloody Ritual: Does your OC have any pre or post mission rituals or superstitions?

Riley'll review the gig parameters several times and make sure she has exactly two extra speed reloaders/magazines for her sidearm in her bag. Once the Relic progresses a little faster, she'll smoke a cigarette or two while she's doing it. Post-gig, she'll probably stop at the Afterlife to drink or sometimes mingle, but if it's a bad gig she'll just beeline to whatever liquor purveyor is closest lol

Discount Doc: Is your OC good at improvising? Would they survive a mission under prepared?

Riley's very quick on her feet but it only translates to action and not speech lol. She's good at improvising weapons and small on-the-fly plans of action when she has a beat to think, so if it's a physical altercation she'll usually manage to recover. If it's something verbal? God, she's such a goner. She's a pretty horrible liar and it somehow gets even worse when she's caught unawares about something, so anything that needs to rely on her words (or worse: her charisma) is going to crash and burn in flames if she needs to start going off the script.

#therealnightcity #Riley Aldana #I just don't have room in Riley's canon for PL unfortunately. But yeah that one would probably screw with her a bit #Also before they routed all handgun perks to Cool it used to be Riley's worst stat so that's why she's vocally something of a dumbass #Rolled 17 on strength and a nat 2 on charisma she's about as charming as a brick thrown through your bedroom window lol #Aldi speaks

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sootyships · 6 months

Text

A while ago, I wrote this, inspired by one of my IMVU avis, Murderbot Diaries + one distinctly nsfw original story on Ao3. And probably the Venom movie too, tbh. Enjoy??

"Who are you?"

The demon-dog tilted its head. "Shouldn't you know? You're the one who called me."

The construct didn't look up from its work-in-progress hand tattoo.

"Just checking I got the right number."

"You can call me Alexandria! Not the real name, of course, but I'm trying to be user-friendly, here."

"Like the library. Got it."

The creature's attention followed the path of the tattoo pen on the skin of the construct's palm. "You do realize I'm not going to fit?"

"Hmm?"

The creature leaned forward in the summoning ring containing it, just barely diffusing from contact with its limits. "Yes. I could devour the last trembling sliver of your soul... Fill every nook and corner of that shell, squeeze it chock-full, bursting, to the brim, and yet overflow a thousand times..."

"I think you'll find you can fit more than you think", the construct replied. "You can't eat me."

"Aww! Not even a nibble? We could fit more that way. I could be gentle. Just the extraneous bits. The redundancy."

"Redundancy is good, you know. Backups, the like."

The demon nodded, diffusing further before reconstituting its shape, a shadow of overflowing hair and soft curves, this time. "I'll take care of you. It grows back."

The construct scoffed. "Sounds painful."

The demon reeled back. "There's no easy way. Taking me will hurt no matter what you do."

The construct finally lifted the tattoo pen and its gaze.

"Would you rather I didn't?"

The demon bounced on its feet. "I didn't think I had a say!"

"I specifically picked you because I thought I had the best chance of co-operation. I'd rather not share my body with something that hated me, or thought I was an annoying gnat even in the best-case scenario."

The creature nodded repeatedly. "Yess. Yes, yes. I've never been part of a construct before. I want to."

The construct frowned. "Alright." It set down the tattoo pen, the ink on its right hand yet unfinished. It kneeled by the summoning ring, adding glyphs.

"Oh, you're sending me back? I thought we were doing this!"

"I found I had more research to do." It connected the final line back to the circle, completing the circuit and clearing the ring.

The next time, the construct watched as more and more tendrils of shadow oozed into the summoning circle. There were no familiar forms, this time, no space for shapes to shift.

"You seem excited", the construct noted, deadpan.

"I didn't think you would summon me again! How did your research go?"

"I decided I would indulge you. I revised the limitations of the spellwork to"—the construct sighed—"allow you a 'nibble'."

The shadowy mass swirled.

With a final flourish, the construct finished its palm tattoo. It stood and approached the summoning circle, offering its hand.

"Here."

The tattoo on its palm glowed with an eerie glow as it struck its hand into the larger summoning circle. The inky dark swallowed it, and a shadowy hand clasped the construct's hand.

The construct felt a jolt, then something prodding, poking, slithering inside. Before it could react, the hand yanked it further within the shadow, on its knees. The shadow rushed in, burning like bile in an esophagus. The skin on the construct's hand and arm bubbled, cracked and glowed, the light piercing through the thinning shadow.

An anguished howl cut through the shadow's delighted giggling and panting. The construct grit its teeth against the pain. The joints on its feet cracked and a bone-deep ache set in.

"What are you doing?" it screamed.

Redecorating!

The construct curled up like a retching dog, its claws digging into its scalp. "Do you have to?" It screamed again, trying to scramble to its knees as though trying to escape.

No, but I want to. Tu casa es mi casa.

The construct sobbed. Something like a gentle touch caressed its mind. It imagined the touch of a muzzle, a cold nose nudging against it.

It knew to fear.

It felt cold, distant, and raw as the demon pressed against it. The construct's mind jolted and shied away, but there was nowhere to escape. It shuddered as the demon's mind cradled its own, radiating satisfaction and contentment.

The spell in the construct's hand finally, finally came to its limit, cutting off the way in.

The construct breathed heavily, trying to contain its nausea. It shivered, concentrating on breathing. If it didn't, it would simply stop.

I wouldn't let you, it thought, then realized; the demon thought.

I can breathe for you.

The construct's eyes fluttered. It rested.

The next time it became fully aware, the awareness came with a sticky sensation when its face twitched. It groaned, wiping at its face. Its—black, cracked, glowy-veined—hand came back streaked with half-dried blood.

It grunted and curled its lip. Urgh. Movement also brought to focus the sweat under its arms and how its clothing stuck to its skin. Small wonder.

With slow movements, it got its hands and legs under itself, crawling to the bathroom. It scooted the last stretch to the bathtub, resting against the edge. It raised its hand to the tap and turned it on. It lowered its hand under the stream and felt the water temperature. It raised its hand to the knobs. It adjusted the temperature.

It let its arm relax, closed its eyes and breathed.

It reached for a sponge and lowered it into the water. It told its fingers to squeeze. It wiped its face.

The water swirled pink.

It wiped its arms down.

With effort, it shrugged and manoeuvred off its jacket to sponge off its chest and underarms.

It leaned against the tub. It breathed.

The next time it became aware, it found its hands moving of their own volition, sponging its body down with care. It didn't fight when its awareness dipped back under.

As the construct's consciousness faded in and out, the demon remembered, I left a piece.

I directed the body to stand up, walking to the bathroom door with single-minded concentration, using everything on the way as support.

I may have gone a little overboard, the demon concluded.

"Can it even grow back with all of you here?" the construct slurred with its body's mouth.

I guess we'll find out! I've never shared like this before. It got down on all fours and crawled to the circle. It slapped a hand over the shadow-remnant and all but faceplanted on it.

The construct emanated confusion as its mouth gobbled down the straggling piece of the shadow demon.

Shouldn't waste.

I don't have a digestive system. It goes into my lungs, the construct thought at its new body buddy.

It's the thought that counts.

I'll have to hack it up later.

Don't worry about it.

I could have just released it back.

The demon fragment gave a mental shrug. Same difference.

They laid there a moment in an undignified heap, licking their proverbial chops. The construct's consciousness dipped, and the next time it became more aware, it found itself on the couch with a blanket wrapped around itself. One of its hands reached to rake through its hair without guidance from itself.

It was comforting.

What's this?

The demon poked at the construct's awareness of yet another summoning circle, this one dormant within its body.

For you. To connect.

The demon emanated delight.

When we feel better.

It had known, of course. More knowledge, more power. The demon's approval of not being permanently cleaved from itself was a perk, but an aside.

It continued fondling their hair, tricking the construct's mind that it wasn't its own hand petting it.

#sooty writes

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allaglow · 1 year

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So many Cinderella thoughts/feelings tonight. What if she did consider leaving, multiple times- but the fact that she literally had no viable means of future income, no dowry, no outside support or potential for shelter or references- not to mention a trade or marketable skills- weren’t the only things preventing her from breaking free??? Because here’s the thing- Cinderella is anything but selfish. Imagine the emotional onus she’s probably placed on herself to do right by Bruno, and Major, and the mice and bluebirds that visit her- to escape on her own, is already such an ordeal but to also escape with all of her friends would make it that much more impossible. That’s not even mentioning how she probably wouldn’t be able to take any of her belongings aside of the bare essentials- what would happen to the love letters she has, between her parents, and their portraits??? Leaving them to get destroyed is unimaginable. Leaving Bruno to fend for himself, and Major, would be unforgivable. Also, the connection and devotion and responsibility Cinderella feels to them also limits resources for herself, because she shares her food with them, her time, her skill, her effort.

Beyond this, to be verbally and physically abused to the extent she was, there’s probably parts of her that feel broken down...don’t get me wrong, Cinderella is remarkable and so much stronger than I could ever hope to be in the situation. The way she asserts her right to go to the ball, to speak up for herself, to still not be ashamed of her appearance are character traits that are astoundingly aspirational to me, given all the emotional turmoil she underwent- not only in her formative years- but all the way through the time we get to know her in the film. But, honestly, to be broken down like that, to be spoken about in front of as if you aren’t even there, to be on the outskirts and “othered” by the only family you have in the world...I’m sure that erodes part of your self-esteem and hope and leeches you of your energy so much (which is what makes it so heartwrenching when she first sings, “So this is love...’) that I wonder how much of Cinderella felt she’d never find any better, that she was never worth anything better. Not on the surface, but there must be lingering underbelly doubts and dashed hopes, as are brought out and triggered after the dress-ripping scene.

It’s also such a delicate balance. Like...to be as respectful as Cinderella is and a person who fundamentally understands the importance of authority, and respects it, and promotes harmony and finding something good about everyone and leading with a logical approach- only to be continually undercut and gaslit by someone who’s supposed to be in a position of authority. You want to respect them, believe they know better, not talk back, “remember your place,” do everything you can not to snap or respond when provoked. But you can only be pushed and prodded so much until the human part of you literally can’t handle it anymore and can get nasty, to a degree, and then the whole thing becomes your fault. But there are also certain situations you can’t remove yourself from, because you aren’t “allowed to” and that’ll only complicate matters and make things worse, so you’re forever in a losing battle because if you remove yourself, you’re selfish and hurting the other person’s feelings- which you would never intentionally do and would do anything to prevent- but if you stay, they’ll intentionally keep talking over you while claiming they don’t understand what you’re saying when you’re telling them they’re talking over you and not listening to your words and continuing to ignore you and walk away from you and belittle you and just generally treat you so unkindly that you!!!

BUT ALSO that’s not even mentioning the pressure and weight and responsibility that’s placed on someone who’s viewed as the ‘capable’ one in the family. Whether you’re the most intelligent or the most put-together or the most competent, the entire family will displace all of their anger toward you instead of the people they should be taking it out on because those people don’t “understand” enough to receive that level of venom and their behavior is only continually tolerated. Beyond that, you’ll forever be placed in situations where you’re guilted and told to empathize with said abusers because they “don’t know what they’re doing” or they’re incapable of “knowing better” or they “can’t help it” and you’re always put in situations where you, and everyone around them, has to sympathize with them...but the gag is, not only will no one ever do the same for you, you will be villainized at every turn- even for things you didn’t do, like you will be blamed for their actions- BECAUSE you, by nature, are more stable and competent and you should always “know better” and even if you didn’t do something directly than CLEARLY you know so much better than the other person that you must’ve subconsciously induced them or signaled for them to behave in a certain way you desperately didn’t want them to because that’s the mental gymnastics they’ll go through to make you take the fall EVERY TIME while all excusing one another for the rest of time and I’m so tired

#* MAGICAL MAKE BELIEVE *#def not inspired by something that just happened!

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buttclench-ryugazaki · 10 months

Text

tgaa 1 + 2 final rambling notes

the neutral/negative:

did not like some of the solutions in the cross examination phase because i could easily predict what the prosecution's damning rebuttal would be, meaning the contradiction felt weak even as i presented it. and that will happen in every single aa game without fail, i just felt like it happened too frequently to me, personally. it works for 1-3 where defending an obviously guilty client is supposed to feel shitty and like you're going insane that he isn't being caught, but not so much when you wanna feel smart and triumphant (before immediately getting knocked down again) y'know

dance of deduction phases are stylistically very cool but far, far too easy. i never failed one once because all it is is playing i-spy with 360 degree camera movement and a limited number of possible answers. i enjoy sholmes being insane, but it gets pretty tiresome after a while because there is no challenge whatsoever

cross examining multiple witnesses and pressing ones based on how they react to others: a mechanic that apparently rolled over from PL vs PW. i thought there would be more of a challenge here. the sound cue is VERY OBVIOUS. i assumed their reactions would be more subtle and you would actively have to search for them (case 1-5 with gregson and milverton whispering amongst themselves is what i'd had in mind), but nope. i also think that not every reaction press should have been moment of plot advancement, as 100% of them are. throw in some red herrings for the player to make them think they've found something important at first and burst their bubble. but DON'T penalize because that would be too frustrating, reward them with funny dialogue at least

jury summation phase: i thought i didn't mind doing them until 2-4/5 came around and i found myself relieved that i didn't have to contend with the jury, which is intentionally supposed to be exasperating in how thoughtless its decision-making is (aside from 2-3 with the magician and scientist jurors who actually have some valuable insight). probably the best of the new gameplay phases mechanically, but i don't think i care for the execution. ryunosuke knows, the prosecution knows, you the player know that you're just stalling for time by making the whole trial go on a tangent. i applaud the way reinforces how desperate it feels to flimsily grasp at straws ("we can't trust shamspeare's testimony because he's stealing gas from his cheapskate landlord and thus a liar") but it does annoy me the player to not directly be working towards getting a greater picture of the mystery

examining evidence is required to advance the plot more frequently than in prior games. before, the player would get some flavor text to give them hints about how the evidence should be presented, but it doesn't necessarily trigger anything in the game's code. it doesn't bother me because because i like to poke and prod, thus i examine (mostly) everything. but for others this could be really frustrating if you know why the evidence is contradictory, without examining. a happy medium would be that examining still updates the description but the evidence itself is viable even if you hadn't examined it (for certain pieces, not all) 5a. at the end of 2-5 when you're supposed to present klint's last will and testament, i presented the asogi sword instead because it told me the will was inside. i forgot to examine it and get the note out first. in classic aa, i think my answer would have been the correct one. that's an example of when i think i should have been given some leeway

they give me "gallery" feature in "extra contents" but it does not lead to a menu of CGs and animated cutscenes? why? dual destinies has that feature. it's a must by the standards any modern visual novel game

positives:

the twists, they're good. not all of them are foreshadowed that well or at all, but i enjoy them regardless. things like professor mikotoba turning out to be sholmes' actual partner and kazuma dad being the professor, because we don't even really learn about kazuma's father until the very moment it's revealed. (i predicted that klint was iris's birth father but not because of any informed reasoning; we didn't know he was married until 2-5 and it's not like both her being born and him dying 10 years ago necessitates a relation). these things can still be set up as future plot points without necessarily foreshadowing who is involved

they don't try to catch you off-guard with plot events like, defending van zieks. it's not just a rehash of turnabout goodbyes. you knew it was going to happen eventually; the reaper of the bailey's reputation as a possible murderer constantly comes up, and you know he must be innocent. it's still a decent twist and a good way to conclude the plot line they introduced so early, but the vibe i get is that they didn't try to act like what they were doing was crazy and unprecedented, because a plot line doesn't have to be for it to be good

they really made the world of this game so much bigger, by setting it in two countries, involving international british-japanese relations and politics, the assassination conspiracy and deeper, given the talk of xenophobia, industrialization, classism, crime, life in the city, corruption within the police and the courts, god there's so much. intentionally or unintentionally, ace attorney has always been about the law itself and how it should be utilized to protect the innocent/find the truth, and how it frequently fails to do just that. aa-verse 1900s britain isn't affected by the dystopian, 99% conviction rate and expedited 3-day trials like 2016 japanifornia, but it does have its own legal issues to contend with and i like how they manifested

pacing the hugeness of this plot over the course of two full games was a good call. we know it's possible to do a full arc in 4 to 5 cases but they said, nah. we're going bigger. and not doing THAT THING!!!! aa games are so aggravating for where they don't reference past games directly, only through vague allusion. game 2 does not dare pretend that it's not a sequel; who would be the poor idiot playing Resolve without having played Adventures? (i did comment about how Resolve still gave me a mostly unskippable tutorial, which is just plain silly) but anyway i do understand why japanese fans were so incensed over game 1 ending on a cliffhanger with no official word of a sequel. the game is feels incomplete without Resolve. they shouldn't have reviewbombed it, because it was a good game, but i understand. it's a duology through and through

the characters. i don't think there's a single one i actively dislike, and if i did i've forgotten them. i was very charmed playing as ryunosuke; he's a mess and master of deadpan like his descendant but perhaps... cuter? more deliberately written as naive and ignorant, naturally because he's not actually a law student. and he's afraid of ghosts and aliens. i enjoy that he's more willing to crack jokes to contrast susato playing the straight man, who is the most serious and informed of all the teen girl assistants. she might even be my favorite, now! aa is such a big franchise with too many characters to count, so it's difficult not to view these characters in comparison to their predecessors. but i think they do a good job making the dna of these characters apparent (kazuma and van zieks both having shades of edgeworth, for example) without making me feel like i'm getting the same archetype and the same guy over and over again

#i think i will leave this untagged

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thistle-whistle-ffxiv · 1 year

Text

The Things We Do For Coin Chapter 10

With the Bazaar safe for the time being, Azami and friends return to the city. Only to be sent out immediately, this time to help the stationmaster find a wayward girl.

AO3 Link

Birds had never struck Azami as particularly stinky animals. But then, she hadn't spent much time close enough to birds to notice a smell one way or the other. Usually her contact with creatures of the avian variety was limited to watching them as they flew high overhead. So maybe all birds stank like shit stewed in sweat and broken dreams.

Shiro's advice to not breathe too deeply had been kinder than she had realized.

Azami dismounted the horrid creature next to Pink and sent it on its way. The chocobo let out a friendly 'kweh!' before running back towards the Bazaar.

"That was horrible." she said.

"You did pretty good at riding it though!" Pink said, "I was worried you were gonna fall off."

"I have excellent balance, thank you." Azami said, not having shared Pink's concerns ever at any point in her entire life.

"Rabta, don't you have something you need to do?" Shiro gently prodded Pink, who suddenly stood up very straight.

"Right! I gotta go talk to my guildmasters! I'll meet up with you guys at the Quicksand, okay? I wanna be there when we deliver Kikipu's letter! Don't do it without me!"

"We won't. Get out of here." Azami promised, giving Pink a gentle shove towards the city gates. Pink hustled up the stairs, pausing only long enough at the top to turn around and wave back down at them.

"Don't give Miss Momodi the letter without me!" she reminded them before sprinting off.

"I wonder why she's so fixated on that." Azami mumbled to herself. It seemed like an odd thing to be so fussed over. It would probably be a long and awkward process, if Momodi and Kikipu were as good of friends as they seemed. Momodi might even have an emotion about it. Azami had never been any good at handling that sort of thing. What if she cried?

"Some people enjoy sentiment." Shiro smirked at her.

"Well, feel free not to wait to deliver the letter on my account." Azami sighed, "I should probably report in to Master Hamon before he sneaks off to the tavern."

"Ah... I've heard... things about that guy."

"He's... not all bad." Azami paused, wondering for a moment if she truly meant that. He was a lech and a drunk, and had an ego that seemed too large to fit through the door to the guild, but his instruction seemed sound enough. At least as far as Azami could tell. Although inexperienced as she was it wasn't like her opinion on such matters counted for much.

"Well, I'll wait on the stairs leading up to the Quicksand for Rabta. And you, if you decide to turn up."

"If I feel like it." Azami shrugged, heading up to face her own fate. She hoped Master Hamon wouldn't be cross with her for taking so long to report in. That was probably something she should have considered before taking on so many jobs, but Master Hamon didn't seem the type to care about such things. More than likely he had gone to a tavern and forgotten about the earth sprites entirely.

"So you've given the earth sprites what for? Well done, Azami! By smiting stone and earth, you've forged unyielding weapons of your fists!" Master Hamon beamed at her. For a moment, Azami almost felt proud of herself. Being praised for her hard work wasn't the worst thing in the world. Even if it was a little embarrassing.

"You've a nigh endless fount of vigor, Azami. Aye, just like myself in my younger days."

And there it was. Master Hamon's ego couldn't let him go too long without talking about his glory days, or else he would crumble into dust. Chuchuko wandered over, clearly wanting to give Azami proper praise.

"You've been showing a lot of promise." she assured Azami, "Even if you are still a bit stage shy."

"Well, of course she's promising- she's training under Hamooooon HOLYFIST!"

Chuchuro giggled at her Master's antics. The two of them seemed awfully close. Perhaps Chuchuta had been studying under him for a long time? Most of the annoying things he said she would shrug off with a laugh and a, "That's our Master Hamon!"

As if sensing Azami's unspoken question, Master Hamon began to explain.

"Chuchuto joined the guild soon after I was made its master. She's my very first student, as a matter of fact. Well, there was one other, to be sure, but..." Master Hamon trailed off, as though whatever he had been about to say was too painful to even think about. Azami almost wanted to ask, but it wasn't any of her business. Who was she, Pink? Hanging around with her really had been affecting Azami, it seemed.

"Let's not dwell on the past, Master. It was Azami's bright future we were discussing." Chuchuto interrupted while Azami tried once more to commit her name to memory, "Which reminds me, did you collect my gil from her? My gear is rather worn down, and I do need the money for repairs..."

Azami blinked in confusion for a long moment at the question. The gil? It took a moment before she remembered her morning exercises. Before the disastrous attempt to showcase her skills, Master Hamon had sent her on a mission to hunt down small sacks of gil he had stashed around the city for her to find. He said that she had managed to find them all, but neglected to mention who it was that had leant it to him. Azami probably would have worked a little harder if she had known it was Chuchuto who had been footing that particular bill. And returned the money to Chuchuto directly.

So much had happened since then, Azami had completely forgotten about it.

"A-Ahem! Yes, Azami's future with us is bright indeed!" Master Hamon quickly changed the subject. Chuchuto did not seem fooled, but shrugged as though there was nothing to be done for it. Judging by the smell of him, Azami assumed it had gone straight into the drink. She couldn't help but feel a little bad for Chuchuto. Master Hamon smiled brightly and continued heedless of the judgmental stares of his two pupils, "If she keeps up her efforts, she may well become the next Holyfist!"

"Will I have to shout my own name at every available opportunity if I do?" Azami asked before she could think better of it. Fortunately for her, Master Hamon let out another one of his croaky laughs. It seemed as though she had not crossed into offensively disrespectful territory. Just playfully so.

"Train hard, young one, and grow strong. When the time's ripe, I'll have another little lesson for you."

Azami bid her teachers farewell and made her way back to the Quicksand. With any luck, Shiro and Pink would have dealt with delivering the letter without her. That small hope was dashed when she saw Shiro sitting on the stairs leading up to the tavern. She sighed and walked over to join him, taking a seat on a lower step.

"Pink's not here yet." It was more of a statement than a question.

"Not yet." Shiro said, "I've heard the guildmasters over at the Thaumaturgy Guild can be a little wordy, so it might be a few more minutes."

"You don't think she's in trouble for dallying do you?" Azami asked. Not that she cared. She just didn't want to have to listen to Pink whine about it if she were.

"We've still got another few minutes of daylight." Shiro said, looking up at the twilight sky, "I'm sure she made it."

They fell into a somewhat uneasy silence, watching the streets for any sign of their wayward companion. She knew the way back to the Quicksand well enough that Azami didn't think she had gotten lost. But... the streets weren't always safe. And even with her magic, Pink didn't exactly cut an imposing figure. Not to mention how oblivious she was to the world around her most of the time. Anything could have happened to her when she was all alone.

"So how did you and Rabta end up travelling together?" Shiro asked, distracting Azami from her catastrophizing.

"Oh? Uh..." Azami huffed, trying to refocus her thoughts, "See that gate over there?"

"The Gate of Nald, yes."

"Sure. Well, I walked through that gate, and Pink ran over to me and never left."

"Well, thanks for watching out for her." Shiro said.

"I didn't really have another choice."

"Sure you did. You could have gutted her with that knife you keep hidden in your boot."

Azami glanced down to the boot in question. She had thought the small kaiken she had stashed in it had been rather well hidden. It was a simple thing, a plain wooden handle and a blade no longer than her hand. A parting gift from a dear friend, just in case. So small and light and rarely used that Azami had almost forgotten she had it at all.

"How did you..."

"You'll learn to pick up on these things with more experience."

"I see."

Shiro let out a soft his, as though he were in pain. Azami turned to look at him. Had he gotten some sort of injury during the fight that he had hidden? He didn't seem to be clutching at any hidden wounds. Instead he just sat there, unmoving. It was difficult to tell with his helmet in the way, but Azami felt as though he weren't really looking at her but through her. It was an uncomfortable sensation.

And just as suddenly as it had started it stopped. Shiro seemed perfectly normal, scanning the street for any sign of his sister.

"Everything alright?" Azami ventured.

"What? Oh, yeah. Just a headache." Shiro said.

"Oh. I have some butterbur root in my bag if you-"

"No, no. It's passed. Don't worry about it."

"Are you sure? I really don't mind." Azami fished around in her pack for the roots in question. She had often gone searching for such things back home once the days work was finished. Willow bark and butterbur root. Dong quai and honeysuckle. Small things that the older folks in the village needed to ease the pains in their joints or treat fevers. It earned her a little extra money or a jar of Granny Kaede's pickled radishes if she was really lucky.

"Look, it's fine." Shiro said, even as Azami shoved the small bundle of roots into his hand.

"Just take it, alright? Carrying it around is inconvenient anyway. You're doing me a favor."

"Keep your stupid root! You're so stubborn!"

"You're one to talk. Just fucking take it or I'll sic Pink on you about it."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

They glared at each other for a long moment before Shiro finally relented. He shrugged as though he weren't especially bothered by this turn of events at all, even though he lost.

"What am I supposed to do with this anyway?" he asked.

"Usually you grind it into a powder, but I've seen some of the elders in my village chew it in a pinch."

"Well, thank you."

The silence returned, Azami shifted back to watch the street. She found herself suddenly hyper-aware of the blade she had thought well hidden pressing against her scales. It carried with it a nostalgic feeling. It missed those days in the bamboo thicket as much as she did. When her biggest concerns had been sneaking back before her father had noticed her missing and the next day's chores, not doing battle with thugs hired by people who wanted a second or third mansion and poorly hidden blades.

Was it just that Shiro was exceptionally observant, or was it that Azami wasn't half as clever as she thought she was? If she had ever noticed it, Pink had never said anything. But that was hardly a reliable indicator one way or the other. How many people had noticed it? It wasn't as though it would be strange to be armed in a place like this. Half the people who passed in and out of the Quicksand wore some sort of weapon on their belts. And more than a few probably kept one or two stashed away.

It was fine. Everything was fine. Nobody thought she was strange, because what she was doing was completely normal.

"Do you know how to use it?" Shiro asked after a long pause.

"Yeah I just told you. Do you need me to help you grind it up or something?" Azami asked. She hadn't considered that when she had foisted the roots upon him. Well, it wasn't especially difficult. Azami was sure she could find something they could use if they really needed to.

"No, I mean the knife in your boot."

"As I understand it, they aren't terribly complicated to operate."

"You know what I'm asking."

Azami sighed, "I'm no trained shinobi, but I can hold my own if it comes down to it."

"Mhig! Azami! Did you do it? Did you do it?" A blur of Pink and enthusiasm came charging over to where they had been waiting on the stairs. It seemed any further discussion would need to wait.

"No. We were waiting for you." Azami assured her, "Just as we said we would."

Pink cheered and did a little twirl before throwing herself up the steps three at a time. She bounced impatiently at the top for a single heartbeat before bounding in without them.

"I guess she wants to do it now." Shiro shrugged, pushing himself up to his feet. He held an armored hand out for Azami to take. Azami huffed. She was perfectly capable of standing on her own. Which she did. Using the railing and her own power. The helmet hid his expression, but somehow Azami thought Shiro was smirking at her.

Begrudgingly, she followed him into the tavern just in time to hear Pink's voice.

"Miss Momodi! Miss Momodi! We have a present for you!"

"What's all this, then? You got somethin' for me?" the woman in question asked from behind her bar. Shiro retrieved the letter they had been given and handed it over.

"Hm? A letter? Now who would think to- Kikipu! Haven't heard a word from that ol' gal in ages! How's the dear doin'?"

"Better now. We hope." Shiro said.

Momodi tore the letter open and began to read. Occasionally she would let out a Mmm-hmm or a small laugh. Once she finished she beamed up at the three of them, "That's Kikipu, all right. Time was I used to call in at the Silver Bazaar quite often. This was back when it was still the busiest hub in Thanalan, mind you. Ol' Kikipu and I used to stay up till dawn talkin' 'bout... well, whatever girls do."

"What do girls talk about?" Shiro asked.

"Sweets." Azami said.

"Knives." Pink nodded sagely.

"Good to know."

Momodi flashed them a good natured smile before continuing, "Kikipu's the very heart and soul of that place. Hells, even most folk here in the city still remember her name. Breaks my bloody heart to hear her and them good folk were nearly forced from their land. Dirty business, that."

"Ah. That reminds me. We apparently have a new enemy for life." Azami pointed out.

"Who, Kenrick? I'm not to the point of worryin' just yet." Momodi assured her. Azami nodded. Momodi knew the people around her better than Azami ever would. It made sense to defer to her judgement rather than panic about what might or might not be.

"I'd wager gil to goobbue poop the Silver Bazaar'll be rallyin' back to its former glory 'fore long. In any case, I thank the Twelve you were there to help them." Momodi continued, she reached under the bar to pull out a small sack of gil. She slid it over to Shiro, "Here, for you- on behalf of Kikipu and the Bazaar."

"Thank you." Shiro said. He tossed the sack to Azami who caught it with startled hands. She shoved it into her pocket. They would divide their earnings properly later. Doing it right in front of Momodi seemed like it would be bad form.

"So, what's the plan now?" Azami asked.

"I'm pretty sleepy after all the adventuring we did today. We should probably head back to the alley if we want to find a good spot to sleep." Pink suggested.

"Actually, if you aren't too tired, I have a rather urgent request that just came in." Momodi interrupted. Azami took stock of herself. She was also tired after her long day at the Bazaar, and finding a nice warm spot to huddle in the bitter cold of the desert night was a priority. But-

"If it pays I'm interested." she said.

"Go down to the Dispatch Yard and talk to a bloke named Papashan. He'll fill you in on the particulars once you get there." Momodi said. Azami frowned. She hadn't heard of the Dispatch Yard before. There hadn't seemed to be anything like that in the Western territories they had spent the day exploring. Momodi continued seeming to understand Azami's concern, "The Dispatch Yard's over in central Thanalan, just head out the door across the hall and you'll see the Gate of Nald staring right back at you. Pass through that and head east. You'll come upon it 'fore long."

"Thank you." Azami said. She turned on her heel and made to leave before Momodi's voice stopped her once more.

"There's dangers beyond the wall, though. More than I'd care ot count. Nothin' too terrible, mind you, but feisty enough to attack you if you draw near. Don't say nobody cared enough to warn you."

"I'll be careful." Azami promised.

"And we'll go too!" Pink said, latching on to Azami's arm.

"Weren't you just talking about how tired you are?" Azami sighed.

"We're always awake enough to go to the Dispatch Yard." Shiro said, clapping Azami on the back as he passed her by.

"Why? Is something exciting there?" Azami asked, dragging Pink along with her.

"Not a thing."

"I see."

Azami stepped through the Gates of Nald for the first time since she had passed through them that first day in Ul'dah. Somehow, despite it only having passed through it a short time ago, Azami felt as though the scenery was entirely new to her. Perhaps she hadn't been paying as much attention to her surroundings as she had thought back then.

In the distance, she spotted a massive tree. The trunk was easily larger than most of the houses in her village. How did it survive in the harsh desert climate? Azami pointed to it and looked at Pink.

"That's the Sultantree!" Pink supplied helpfully, "It's a really special place for the royal family! You can tell because it's named after them."

"There are all sorts of legends about it. If you're interested I can tell you some once we've finished our errands at the Dispatch yard." Shiro offered.

"That... sounds like fun." Azami hoped she sounded convincing.

Shiro led the way to the Dispatch Yard. Apparently he had been by once or twice. As they approached, they saw an elderly lalafellen man on the platform pouring over a map and looking as though the sky would fall down upon him at any moment. Clearly, this was the man they had been sent to see. Azami gave Pink a little shove towards him. Astoundingly, Pink took the hint.

"Hello!" she shouted, bounding up to the lalafell who looked like he was twelve seconds away from being flattened by the weight of his own anxiety, "My name's U'rabta! We're looking for Mister Papashan!"

"Well, you've found him." the elderly lalafell said, a bemused smile not quite making it to his eyes. It was understandable. Pink could be rather a lot. He continued, "You lot certainly look the part of adventurers, my friends. Might you be the good souls Momodi advised me to expect, hm?"

"That's us!" Pink said, "I'm U'rabta! That's my big brother U'mhig! And that's our friend Azami!"

"I am Papashan, stationmaster of this humble Dispatch Yard."

"Wow! You're in charge of the whole station yard? That's amazing! Is it fun? Is it hard? I bet it's a real hard job!"

"An empty title, I assure you. I truly am no more than a tired old lalafell passing his final years in quiet and solitude." Papashan cut in, disrupting Pink's babbling, "Twelve know there have been plenty of both these last five years since the Calamity struck. The devastation... was vast. Yet now true Ul'dahns work together, doing all in our power to rebuild what was laid to ruin. By the sweat of our brows and the love of our home, we have rebuilt Ul'dah to the grandeur and majesty that you see today. The railways which run through this Dispatch Yard, too, were born of the noble efforts of a great many souls. But there is still much work to be done. The wounds left by the Calamity run deep. Isolated areas beyond our lines of supply remain, and there are places yet wanting for relief and restoration. Ul'dah needs the aid of you and your bretheren, friend. In fact, never has our need been more dire."

"You are really trying to sell us on whatever this mystery job of yours is, huh?" Azami said. She had had more than enough long speeches about the power of togetherness for one day. For a lifetime, if she were being honest with herself. Where did these people find the time to write them? Or were they all improvised in the moment?

"My apologies. Let me get to the point, then. I do believe I may have some work suited to one of your ability." Papashan smiled at her. A more genuine smile, it seemed. Azami didn't think she had said anything particularly amusing, but if that was what it took to get the ball rolling on their mystery assignment.

"It just so happens a number of sentries have been sent to guard the area. A dispatch to the Dispatch Yard, as it were." Papashan explained, "They have long been away from the shade and featherbeds of the city. The hot days and cold nights can play hells on the mind and body out here. It isn't much, but go and give them these twilight pretzels, would you? I find comfort food always helps when I feel like killing myself."

"So you called for adventurers to help deliver snacks?" Pink asked.

"Well, they are many, and I cannot risk leaving my post long enough to do it myself. I apologize if-"

"As long as you're paying me I don't care what menial tasks you need me to complete. Whereabouts are these sentries?"

"There are three who have not yet returned from their patrols." Papashan said, gesturing towards a small map of Thanalan he had stretched out on a table. He pointed at three spots, "Their patrols are in these areas here."

"I see. Three of them, three of us. I'll take this guy." Azami said, picking one of the spots at random.

"Then I want this one!" Pink said, pointing to another.

"I guess that leaves me with him." Shiro said. Having picked their destinations, the three quickly split up.

Azami looked around her area carefully, trying not to get too distracted by the strange new greenery that she saw growing all around. Azami had been under the impression that deserts were desolate places, with very few plants. But Thanalan seemed to be mostly teeming with all sorts of strange plants. Azami wondered if any of them could be used for medicinal purposes? If they could, Azami could probably earn a little extra money gathering some for older folks like she had been able to back home. But now wasn't the time to think about such things.

Her gaze lifted skyward, and she spotted a man in a white and blue uniform that she had seen in Ul'dah at the top of a cliff. She recognized the uniform as that of the sultansworn. But what business did they have out in the desert? Azami usually saw Sultansworn guarding the palace. Perhaps some sort of noble was going to be passing through the area? It probably had something to do with that fancy party Azami had been hearing so much about.

Azami followed the edge of the cliff as it sloped gently downwards. Eventually she was able to climb up onto it herself, and began her approach. She barely got within three yalms of the man before he rounded on her sword in hand. In a loud voice he commanded her, "Halt! Madam, I'm going to have to ask you to put the basket on the ground and place your hands above your head!"

Azami shrugged and complied. While he was actively threatening her with a sword, Azami didn't think that this man was actually planning on hurting her. Instead, she thought that maybe he was just hoping she would be frightened off so he could return to whatever it was he was looking for. What a weird day she was having.

"State your name and business!"

"Azami and delivery. From Papashan. He asked me to bring you some pretzels."

"A twilight pretzels from Papashan? By the gods, forgive me! You could say this new post has my nerves in a... twist." The tension seemed to leave the man as he returned his sword to its sheath. Azami wasn't sure whether to laugh or groan at his dumb joke.

"May I put my hands down?" she asked.

"Yes... of course. I'm... I'm terribly sorry for that. Ahem, yes, well, you may rest assured that the Dispatch Yard is safe so long as I stand watch." the sultansworn said, "Please give Papashan my thanks, and tell him that I only wish I could repay the favor..."

"Well, I'm sure you'll have ample opportunity." Azami said, turning her back on the man. She headed back to the camp. As she approached she noticed Pink and Shiro had already returned. She jogged over to join them.

"You've returned- and with a deal fewer pretzels, I see!" Papashan beamed at them, his gaze full of a hope that Azami couldn't help but feel they were about to dash, "Tell me, how fare our Sultansworn sentries? Did they have anything to report, anything at all?"

"Nothing from mine." Azami admitted.

"Me either!" Pink announced. Shiro shook his head as well.

"What? Nothing? Are you sure? I... oh, oh dear." the old man was beginning to fret. He reminded Azami of a woman in her village long ago. A time that Azami would rather forget. She watched as Papashan took a breath and collected himself. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a few coins to hand to each of them, "Take this for your troubles, then. And stay a moment- there is more I would ask of you."

Pink and Shiro shoved their coins into Azami's hands. She sighed and slipped them into the pouch Momodi had given them earlier. It seemed that somehow Azami had been made their little party's treasurer. Well, she was the one who was the most concerned with it. The job may as well fall to her.

"I have just this moment- No! No, the time for concealment is past! The truth is, even before I had you deliver the pretzels, I was privy to some most unsettling news!" Papashan said, "Which is the real reason I sent you to meet those Sultansworn. A young noblewoman from a very prestigious family has run away from home, and I have been ordered to see her safe return. The Sultansworn you met earlier are assisting with the search. Alas, it seems they have found no trace of her."

"Oh no! That sounds terrible!" Pink said.

"How long ago did she go missing?" Shiro asked, "Do you have any idea where she might be headed?"

Clearly worry had destroyed Papashan's ability to reason. Why would he trust three random adventurers with such knowledge? Any one of them could decide to use it for nefarious means. Ransoming a noble brat could earn them a lot of money. It was a terrible risk he was taking with them, but it seemed as though he had little other choice. Azami couldn't help but pity him.

"I apologize for not being frank with you from the start, but we must proceed with caution- should word of her disappearance spread, I fear others with less honorable motives may join the hunt." Papashan admitted. Well, at least he understood the position he was in.

"We know the sentries have found no sign of her," Azami said, gesturing towards the map, "Pink you try looking in this area, Shiro can you take over here? I'll look in this area. Meet back here in two bells."

"Sounds good to me." Shiro had barely finished speaking before Pink had started sprinting off towards her assigned area.

"Praise the Twelve. I knew I could count on you!" Papashan called after her. Shiro tilted his head at Azami when he noticed she hadn't also sprung right into action.

"It might be prudent to get a physical description of our missing noble before running off?" she suggested.

"That is... a fair point." Shiro said.

"Oh, yes. Of course. She's a young lalafellen woman by the name of Lady Lilira. Pink of hair, about this tall. I'm told that she borrowed clothes from one of the family servants before sneaking out."

"Well at least she isn't making herself too obvious." Shiro said, "Although that means she might be trying to hide. Do you know of any reason she might have run off? Trouble at home? Being forced into a convenient marriage that she doesn't want? That sort of thing?"

"No, no. Nothing like that." Papashan assured him.

"Can you go after Pink and tell her what Papashan told us?" Azami asked. Shiro tilted his head once more, but chose not to ask the question that clearly burned at him.

"I'll be right behind you, alright?" She promised. Shiro seemed to take that as an answer for now, but somehow Azami felt he would press the issue once this Lilira girl was safely in her mansion. Azami watched him until she was certain he was out of earshot.

"Please. Should we allow her to come to any harm, not even a hundred beheadings would be punishment enough... This cannot happen, Azami. It must not!" It was embarrassing to watch the man plead. Azami took a breath and decided to put him out of both of their misery.

"I'm about to ask a question that's going to seem a little odd." she said, "And... I'm going to need you to promise that you won't speak to anyone of this conversation. Can you swear that?"

Papashan looked at her for a long moment, considering. Wondering what it could possibly be that she was about to ask, no doubt. Finally he said, "I'm afraid that I don't understand what you mean."

"I mean that this is life or death. Not a soul can know about this conversation you and I are having right now. Can you promise me that?" Azami tried to will him to understand the importance of her request. If it weren't kept secret... How many times would Azami repeat her mistakes before she learned?

"I swear it." Papashan assured her. Azami chose to believe him. He was, after all, in as difficult a position as she was.

"Do you have an object belonging to this Lilira?" she asked, "It can be anything. A sock, hair ribbon. Anything that she considers to be hers?"

"What..." Papashan seemed to be at a loss.

"I know how it sounds, but I can use it to find her. So long as it considers itself to be hers." Azami tried her best to explain, but somehow her explanations never felt like they were enough. But she had said too much already. If she was wrong about this man...

"I don't understand, but... Will this do?" Papashan asked, holding up a small square of silk, "It is a handkerchief that she once gave to me."

Azami slipped her hand free from her glove and took the kerchief. The link was weak, but Azami thought she might be able to trace it if she focused. She shut her eyes, tried to shut out the world and focus on Lilira. She saw it, distant and hazy, but present. To the south. If she focused just a little bit harder... she could almost make out some rock formations. Lilira was heading towards that big tree. There was a desperation in her steps.

"This never happened." Azami reminded him, handkerchief still clutched in her fist as she ran off to follow the tether.

The closer she got the stronger her connection felt. It had been a long time since she had used her gift in this way. Not since... Azami shook her head. She couldn't think about that right now. Papashan needed her to find Lilira. In the distance, Azami spotted one of the rock formations she had watched Lilira stomp past. She was going in the right direction. It wouldn't be much longer before she spotted her.

Just up the hill, barely a quarter of a malm away now. Azami spotted the young woman dressed in a frumpy pink robe not unlike those she saw some of the trainees over at the Thaumaturgey Guild and a pink turban. That was the girl, Azami knew her as well as she knew her own face at this point. She slipped her hand back into her glove, and jogged after the girl. Closing the distance quickly, even as the girl turned in fright at the stranger running up to her.

"You have caused a lot of trouble, young lady." Azami scolded the girl almost out of reflex as she got closer, "Do you have any idea how worried Papashan is right now? The poor old man is beside himself."

"I-I don't... I..." the girl sputtered, clearly not used to being given the scoldings that she so richly deserves. Azami sighed, recentering herself. Perhaps she had spent too long with the tether. Some of Papashan's anxiety must have crept in while she was searching. That was probably it. "How dare you speak to me thus?"

"Oh, I think you'll find that I'm just very daring." Azami said, "Especially when it comes to spoilt little brats who leave with nary a word to those who care about them and walk off into the desert."

"Sp-spoilt?"

"Yes. Spoilt. And inconsiderate! Do you really not know how much trouble you've caused? The Sultansworn are at their wits end. And Papashan has been reduced to calling in random adventurers to come help. Most of us were hoping to get a chance to eat dinner or sleep tonight, but instead we're out here searching for your dumbass."

"I... I am sorry. I never intended to cause such trouble." the girl said, looking appropriately contrite.

"Whatever." Azami huffed, walking past the girl towards the tree, "The sooner we finish up here the sooner we can get you back."

"What?"

"You needed to go to the Sultantree, didn't you?"

"Yes, but..."

"Well, we can go do it now, or I can throw you over my shoulder and haul your ass back to Papashan like a sack of popotos, and you can sneak out and try it again tomorrow. Which is it gonna be?"

"I... Thank you. I shan't be long." the girl promised. Azami nodded and they began to head towards the tree together. There didn't seem to be anything in the immediate area that Azami was particularly concerned about. The marmots and hornets seemed to mostly be leaving them alone. But still there was an uncomfortable feeling in the air. A kind of tickle in the back of her throat.

"A word of advice?" Azami decided to try and make conversation, if only to take her mind off the odd feeling just under her skin, "If you're going to pretend to be a common person you should try not going into public wearing earrings that look like they're worth more money than a regular working family would make in an entire year."

The girl's hands reflexively went up to the gems in question. Glittering diamonds dangling from ornately carved cuffs. She quickly removed the offending jewelry, "I hadn't realized I still had them in."

"No, I imagine not." Azami said, "So what brings you out here?"

"I can't say." Lilira answered. Azami shrugged.

"It's not like they're paying me enough to care." she admitted, "Shiro's got this mad idea that you're being forced into some loveless marriage and are running away to marry your true love. Or some shit."

Lilira giggled, "And what, pray tell, was your theory?"

"Didn't really have one." Azami admitted, "Like I said. I'm not being paid enough to care."

"I see. Have you been in Ul'dah long?"

"Couple days now."

"You speak of money as if you had been born here."

"I get that a lot." Azami admitted. The sultantree grew ever larger as they approached, looming over them in a way that wasn't wholly uncomfortable. Even if something still tickled just under Azami's skin and set her teeth on edge, "So what's with the tree? Is it some sort of kami or...?"

"Kami?" the girl tilted her head at the unfamiliar word.

"Oh... right. You worship The Twelve here. Kami are... like that. But also not at all." Azami tried to explain, "I'm not really sure how to explain it."

"I'm not certain if it is a kami." Lilira said, "But... It is very important to Ul'dah. The sultanate, in particular."

"Yes, I can tell because it's named after them."

Lilira gave her a disapproving frown, but continued nonetheless, "The souls of previous sultans and sultanas are said to reside in the tree, so that they may ever watch over their beloved city."

"Is that why it has grown so large?"

"According to the legends."

"And you are here to ask for their help? For reasons you're not allowed to tell me?"

"Yes. Now, kindly go keep watch over there while I pray."

Azami nodded and stood quietly to the side, keeping her eyes out for any monsters, or any sign of her fellow searchers.

"O Sultantree..." Lilira's voice wavered. She took a breath and tried again, "O Sultantree, hallowed spirit of my line, forgive my weakness. My failings have cost us dear..."

Azami was suddenly assaulted by the feeling of unseen eyes on her. Reflexively, she moved to hide Lilira from view, placing herself between her client and whatever stranger had come. Lilira had sensed it too, and stopped her prayers. She stood and in a more commanding tone than a little brat like her had any right to use said, "Show yourself!"

"As you command, O Lilira." a hyur with white hair and strange markings on his neck stepped into view. He was clad in black, and quite a bit taller than Azami was. He more or less ignored her, keeping his attention on the young noblewoman behind her, "Forgive my selfish desire to assure your welfare."

"Friend of yours?" Azami asked, eying the man warily. He held a sword at his hip, but his movements looked incongruous with a blade that size. He seemed more similar to a shinobi than a gladiator. His apparent talent for hiding his presence didn't help matters. Azami had the feeling that she hadn't noticed him until the exact moment he had wanted to be noticed. Just how long had he been watching them?

"Hardly." Lilira scoffed. The man took a moment to look affronted.

"I think you've gone and hurt his wee little feelings." Azami said.

"You really are just a bitch to everyone you meet, huh?" Lilira asked. Now it was Azami's turn to look affronted. She clasped a hand to her chest as though Lilira's insult had struck her right in the heart.

"And now you've gone and hurt mine."

"Quiet you." Lilira hissed. She turned her attention back to the interloper. Using her spoilt little noble voice she tried to shoo him off, "I don't recall requesting an escort! Simply pretend we never met and continue on your way."

"We both know I can do no such thing. It isn't safe for you here alone."

"Hey." Azami huffed. She was standing right there.

"It isn't safe for anyone- not with this aetheric disturbance... It's as though the dead are watching us... And I'd prefer not to join them, if it's all the same to you."

Loathe as she was to admit it, he wasn't wrong. The gross feeling in the air had only been intensifying. Azami decided that this stranger probably wasn't planning on stabbing her the moment she turned back, so she turned to face Lilira, "He's right. Something is wrong. Finish quickly and let's get back."

"Fine. Just give me a moment." Lilira said, kneeling back down before the tree. Azami took her place once more, this time joined by an irritating stranger.

"Ah, you must be the one Papashan mentioned. Congratulations on finding our elusive young charge." He said. Azami mostly ignored him as he continued rambling, "You'll have to forgive Her Impetuousness. What she lacks in discipline, she makes up for in stubbornness. You should return with us. The stationmaster will be eager to thank Lady Lilira's protector in person."

"With 'us', huh." Azami said, "I don't recall inviting you along."

"You wound me, madam."

"Azami."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I don't know if I have that sort of authority, but I'll be sure to put in a good word for you." Azami flashed a harsh glare his way, "My name. It's Azami. Don't fucking call me madam."

"My... apologies." the stranger said, clearly uncertain how to proceed with the conversation.

He was saved from any further awkwardness by the sound of heavy wings overhead. The creature they belonged to was unlike any bird Azami had ever seen. It was humanoid, with long spindly limbs and a wickedly pointed beak. Thick black scales coated the thing's hide like armored plating. Azami wondered if she would be able to punch her way through it? Or would she simply break her hands in the attempt?

Well, no matter. She would simply figure something out.

"Alas, it seems proper introductions will have to wait." the man said, stepping forward and drawing his blade, "Dear Lilira, for my sake please stay out of harm's way. As for you, dear friend- for Lilira's sake- please stay in harm's way!"

Azami took a moment to make sure Lilira had hidden herself among the thick roots of the Sultantree before joining the fray. As she feared, her fists didn't seem to so much as bother the creature. It raked its claws in her direction. Azami jumped back, just out of its reach. Her new companion didn't seem to be faring any better, his blade bouncing harmlessly off of its armored scales.

"This isn't working." Azami huffed.

"I'll hold it's attention. Take Lilira and run back to the station." the man said.

"Sure. Just one small problem with that." Azami said, "There are more approaching from the west."

"Lovely, it brought friends!" the man growled as he ducked under a brutal swing of the creature's claws, "Leave the big one to me! You handle the rest!"

"On it!" Azami said, wondering if the smaller ones would be any easier for her to damage. She charged forwards, ramming her shoulder into the first one. It squawked as she made contact. The creature landed hard on the ground. Azami didn't think it would stay down, but she was already busy dealing with its friends, ducking under one claw and talon to drive her fist into where she assumed its vital organs might be. Azami felt the scales give under the force of her blow.

"No!" a shockingly familiar voice called out. Azami scarcely had time to turn before she heard wood shatter and Pink cry out in pain. Azami threw herself in Pink's direction, fully tackling the creature that had harmed her. She landed on top of the damned thing, holding it fast to the ground by its throat as she savagely beat it with her other fist. She didn't stop until she heard a sickening crack, and the creature fell limp beneath her.

"Rabta, are you alright?" Shiro asked. Azami noticed the other creature she had been fighting laying dead behind him. The ruined remains of the cheap wooden shield lay scattered on the ground, red blood soaking into the sand.

"I'm alright." Pink said through gritted teeth. Azami looked at the wound, and saw a white flash of bone from under her tattered flesh.

"There's more coming." She informed Shiro.

"Fine. I'll hold them off. Get Rabta somewhere safe." He said, taking a position between them and the creatures. Azami helped Pink to her feet, all but carrying the girl back towards the sultantree. She noticed that the stranger's battle with the creature seemed to be at a standstill, but he was already beginning to slow. If it went on much longer he would miss a step and...

Azami couldn't think about that just then. First she needed to treat Pink's wounds.

Once they were safely under the roots of the Sultantree, Azami set Pink down. The girl was trying her best to put on a brave face, but Azami could tell she was only barely holding back tears. Azami pulled an old shirt from her pack, using it as a makeshift bandage to try and staunch the bleeding.

"Do you have any more of those potions?" she asked. Pink shook her head. Azami scoffed, "Bet you regret wasting that one on me now."

"It wasn't a waste." Pink squeaked out. Her genuine and inexplicable affection for Azami never ceased to confuse and irritate her.

"You're so annoying." she huffed, "Lilira come hold pressure on this wound."

"What? I- I can't-" the girl looked frazzled, almost as if she had never seen a wound up close before. Perhaps she hadn't.

"Lilira look at me." Azami commanded. Once she had the girl's attention, "You can do this. Just hold the pressure."

"I can do this." The girl repeated. And for an instant, Azami almost thought she believed it. With a shaky nod, the girl placed her trembling hands where Azami showed her. Azami reached into her boot and retrieved the kaiken that she had hidden there. It wasn't much, but perhaps it would be enough to pierce through these things scales. She stood to rejoin the fight. Shiro and that annoying stranger were going to need the help.

"Hold it just like that until we get back." Azami told Lilira.

"Wait." Pink said, "I saw that creature in one of the books my guildmasters asked me to read. It's... going to keep calling more until you kill the big one."

"Right. Any idea how to do that?"

"The armor is weakest near the wings."

"Got it. Stay out of trouble until I get back."

Azami rushed back into the fray. Several of the creatures were swarming Shiro now, but he didn't seem to be terribly injured. Between his shield and his armor, their claws seemed unable to find their mark. But even that wouldn't hold out forever. Azami was going to need to finish things now. Luckily, the stranger had managed to turn the creature just so that its back was exposed to Azami. She took a running leap, grabbing onto one of its wings with one hand, Azami wrapped her legs tightly around the creature so it wouldn't throw her off as she stabbed her blade into the joint where its wing met its back.

The creature let out an unholy shriek of pain and rage and tried to swipe at her. Azami ignored the pain as its claws raked glancing blows against her legs. Nothing so bad as what Pink was enduring, Azami was certain. She grit her teeth and persisted. Pulling the blade free from its flesh only to drive it back in. Over and over. The stabs got progressively meatier sounding until with a sickening tear, the wing came free. Azami toppled to the ground with it.

She quickly scrambled to her knees, readying her knife for a go at the other wing, but the creature lay still, its harsh gurgling breaths slowing to a stop even as it tried weakly to claw at her once more. Azami's own breaths were harsh and ragged. She watched it for what felt like an eternity before she was satisfied that it wouldn't rise once more.

"Shit." She swore, turning her attention back to Shiro. He was still surrounded by the creatures. Five or six of them. Azami was far too frazzled to count. She hurled herself back into the fray, their strange new ally right at her heels. He might have made some sort of smartass comment, but all Azami could hear was the sound of her own heart pounding as she took down the closest creature.

Something burning hot shot past Azami, the heat of one of Pink's fireballs almost comforting as it slammed into another one of the creatures.

"Lay back down, you idiot!" Azami shouted back to her. Stupid girl was only going to make her wounds worse that way. But fire continued to rain down on the creatures from afar, regardless of Azami's protests.

Between the four of them the battle was ended swiftly. Once the final creature breathed its last, Shiro rushed past Azami to check on Pink. Azami wiped the viscous black fluid that seemed to be the creatures’ blood on her sleeve before tucking her kaiken back into her boot.

"Are you alright?" The stranger asked. Azami took a moment to take stock of herself. There were cuts down her shins where the big one had caught her in its flailing attempts to get her off of its back, but they were shallow. Nothing a few bandages and a good night's rest wouldn't fix. Otherwise, she seemed mostly unharmed.

"Fine." she answered.

Thanks to Pink. Something dark and terrible stabbed at Azami's heart. It was her fault. She had gotten careless and now Pink was in so much pain. It had cut her straight to the bone. Who knew what kind of damage that would do to her arm? Would she ever be able to hold a shield again? Even if the wound itself and the bleeding didn't kill her, there were still infections. They lived in a dirty alleyway. Hardly the most sanitary place to nurse a wound. What if it got gangrenous? What if Pink bled out before they could get her to a proper healer?

This was all Azami’s fault.

"Let's go check on her." the stranger said, gently guiding Azami to where she had left Lilira to tend to Pink. His smile was gentle and knowing, like he understood exactly what she was thinking. Azami didn't even have the energy to be mad at him for it. Instead she nodded and followed along.

As they passed by the corpse of the big one, something odd caught Azami's eye. A strange blue crystal was laying in the pool of black blood leaking from the creature. The faces were smooth and shining, and it certainly hadn't been there moments ago. Azami wasn't sure why, but something about it seemed familiar. Like a part of herself that she hadn't realized was missing.

Azami stopped to examine it further. The stranger kept walking without her, but Azami didn't care about him just then. She reached out to pick the crystal up.

As soon as her fingers brushed the surface she was somewhere else. In a void, similar to the one that she sometimes visited in her dreams. Beneath her feet was a strange sigil, with several empty circles surrounding her. The blue crystal in her hands flashed, and took its place in one of the empty circles. In the distance Azami could hear that familiar voice.

"Hear... feel... think..."

For once the voice deigned to show itself. A massive blue crystal floating in the distance. Somehow Azami knew that that was what was speaking. It was no stranger than anything else in the void she found herself in, she supposed.

"Crystal bearer. I am Hydaelyn. All made one." it said.

"Cool for you." Azami did not have time for this nonsense, "What the hell is going on?"

"A Light there once was that shone throughout this realm... yet it hath since grown dim. And as it hath faltered, so hath Darkness risen up in its stead, presaging an end to Life. For the sake of all, I beseech thee. Deliver us from this fate!"

"And what do you expect me to do about it? I could barely take one of those flying things just now."

"The power to banish the Darkness dwellest in the Crystals of Light. Journey forth and lay claim to them. By thy deeds, shall the crystals reveal themselves to thee. Only believe, for the Light liveth in thy heart."

"You've got the wrong girl! I'm not... Pick somebody else!"

Azami saw others, dozens of others. People floating freely around the crystal. They seemed to be having a much better time than Azami. Any one of them could have been the hero Hydaelyn wanted. Why did she think Azami would be better suited for the task? Azami was the last person who wanted to be a hero. All she wanted was to get the money she needed and go home!

"Go now, my child, and shine thy Light on all creation."

"No! I’m not a hero! You have to pick somebody else!"

But her protests fell on deaf ears.

#ffxiv #fanfic #twdfc #my writing

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pred1059 · 1 year

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Runaway Wind Chapter Eight

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Erxart sighed. “I had guessed that the mission was going to be easy...but this?”

Axel shrugged. “Like I said. Roxas was the biggest risk. This is just making sure he can follow instructions.”

And they were simple instructions. Look around, explore, get treasure, and barricades kept you from getting lost. Roxas could remember that on top of everyone’s names. All he could really do is mumble out, “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry, speak up?” Axel spoke, “Couldn’t quite make it out.”

“Axel, if he doesn’t feel like speaking up, he doesn’t have to.”

Feel like speaking? Did he feel like speaking now?

“If that’s the case he’s never going to talk.”

“Oh come on. I’m pretty sure even he could tell this was easy.”

Yes.. it was easy...in fact if he could put it into words…

Yes, he could put it into words...

“I said.” Axel and Erxart stopped talking to look at him. “I could have done that with a blindfold on.”

Axel chuckled. “All right, smart aleck, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Don’t want a blind zombie running around. Still, the mission was a success, so I’d say we’ve earned a little icing on the cake.”

Erxart raised his eyebrow, “Aren’t we expected back at the castle?”

The redhead waived him off, “Eh, as long as we aren’t gone a whole day they won’t notice too much. Unless there’s an actual time limit, but that’s not too often.” He turned to Roxas. “So, remember the spot I showed you?” He did, so he nodded. “Mind showing it to Erxart while I get something?”

“Sure, I can find it no problem.” It wasn’t that hard to get to. Get above ground, find the clocktower, and use the door on the side to climb to the top. Even he could remember that.

Erxart followed Roxas up the tower, the boy mostly being silent as he was during the walk over. He couldn’t really tell if Roxas was shy, nervous, annoyed, anything. On the other hand, maybe he just needed encouragement. He seemed to respond to Axel’s prodding. “How long have you been with the Organization?”

Roxas stopped, thought for a bit then spoke,“...Seven days.”

“Only a week? Guess you know a bit more than I do about the Organization.”

The boy shook his head. “No, all I know is that I’m number thirteen.”

Just a rank? “Nothing about the kind of missions we’ll be going on? What we’re supposed to be doing?” He shook his head. “Nobody’s really told me much either.”

Roxas gave him an odd look. “But you’ve been here less than I have. I don’t think you’d know more than me.”

He shrugged “I suppose that’s fair. I was just curious-”

“If you want to talk, I’d suggest moving on to the top, there’s better scenery up there.” it seems that Axel had managed to catch up to them while they were talking. He was carrying something, though it was a bit dark to make out what. At Axel’s prompting, Roxas made his way to the top of the stairs and opened the door. As Erxart suspected they were at the top of the tower, on the ledge over the clock face. Well, the door opened to the side right of the clock. A short walk took them towards that side, and a view of the entire town with the sun setting.

Erxart was speechless, “It’s an incredible view.” “It certainly isn’t bad.” Axel nodded, and brought the items he was carrying into view. “And a good spot to enjoy the icing on the cake.” Well, ice cream to be exact. Axel passed the three blue popsicles to his companions as they sat and watched the sun. Erxart took a bite of the cold treat.

“Mmmgh.” And regretted it. “It’s salty? Why?”

Axel chuckled. “Well, probably because it’s sea salt ice cream.”

Roxas had already taken a bite. “Well, it’s also kind of sweet.” and proceeded to take another.

The brown haired man sighed. “At least you like the flavor.”

The boy seemed puzzled by the statement. “Flavor?”

“Well, there’s different flavors of ice cream out there. And they all taste different.” Axel answered “I just chose the one I knew was good.”

“Or at least the one you liked.” Erxart answered with a smile.

Roxas mulled for a moment, then suggested, “Maybe you can choose a flavor you like next time Erxart.”

“Alright then. I’ll keep that in mind.” And with that he resumed admiring the sunset. Enjoying the moment where things began for Roxas and him as members of the Organization.

“I can’t believe they did this…” Though the helmet hid his face, the Ventus’ shock at the state of the Radiant Gardens was clearly audible. The entire city had flooded, and the castle had been lifted from the ground and warped by iron and magic. A large symbol of the heartless emblazoned on its face, as if to mock the idea it was ever a beacon of light in the worlds. No, all that was left was a Hollow Bastion of darkness. Belching out smoke and smog from the various chimneys.

“With all the smoke, we can’t really fly too close. Especially with all the flying heartless.” Wyverns and Various Sorcerers eyed them from afar, as if daring them to come closer. “Guess we’ll need to start at the bottom.”

Naminé nodded. “Yes...Maybe we could ask them ” She pointed down towards the entrance of the building, where four individuals had gathered. As they approached. The smallest of them, a girl, spotted the two flying down, and started to get the attention of the other three.

“Hey guys? I think we’ve got company, but I don’t think they’re heartless.”

“Well whoever they are, I’ve got to ask where they got that ship, I haven’t seen…wait.” The oldest, a grizzled blonde man made his way forward towards the pair as they touched down and dismounted. “Yeah, now I remember, you were that girl back in Traverse Town! The one fighting the pyromaniac in black! This the kid you were with?”

“Huh? Oh, the armor.” With that, Ventus dismissed his protection, leaving him in his normal attire. “Yeah...Guess you saw all that...Um..?”

“Just call me Cid. That there’s Squall, or as he prefers-” “Leon.” The man in the black jacket answered. “Call me Leon.”

A brown haired woman in a red and pink dress stepped forward. “I’m Aereth, and this is Yuffie.”

The girl who had initially pointed out the guests became annoyed, “The great ninja Yuffie thank you very much! I didn’t spend years in training for nothing!”

Leon snorted, “I don’t get why you insist on that introduction every time. We call you Yuffie just fine.” She crossed her arms in a huff, “Yeah, well first impressions are important.”

Ventus chuckled, “Well, Guess we’d better introduce ourselves then. I’m Ventus, but you can call me Ven.”

“And I’m Naminé, A friend of his.” She gave a nod to the four and began to explain, “We’re trying to find some of Ven’s friends that were last seen in this world, and we think that there might be some clues here.”

“Their names are Terra and Aqua. Terra’s tall, got brown hair, Aqua’s got blue hair. They both wear this.” He pulled out the clip from his pocket bearing Eraqus’ mark.

Cid raised an eyebrow in suspicion, “Would the both be keyblade users like you?”

Ventus began to sputter, “Wha! Buh..? How did you-” “Like I said, I saw your fight earlier, and I’m pretty sure I spotted a keyblade. Even if you hold it funny, you seem to know what you’re doing with it.”

Yuffie stepped forward. “Well, if you do have one, we could really use your help. You see, this place used to be our home, and we’d like to try and rebuild it. The only problem is that it’s crawling with Heartless.”

Aerith continued, “We can fight them off with magic and our abilities, but the only way to truly destroy them for good is with the power of a Keyblade.”

“We heard from Cid that there was someone else that had a keyblade. Though with the world being separated again, we figured it was too late for you to come with us.” Leon shrugged. “Fortunately, you’ve managed to show up here on your own.”

“So how about it?” Yuffie asked, “You get a chance to beat on some heartless and search for your friends, and we get to work faster on making this place more like home sweet home again. Sounds like a win-win to me.”

Ventus nodded, satisfied with the logic. “Yeah, I think we can help. You in Naminé.”

She took a moment to consider, then said. “Yes, I might not be quite as good with a sword as you are, but I should be able to make up the difference with my magic.”

Aerith smiled. “That’s perfectly fine. I mostly use magic myself, but I do sometimes use my staff if it’s an emergency.”

“Or if someone’s slacking off…” Yuffie whispered.

“If you’ve all decided to help.” Leon spoke up, having made his way to the door of the castle, “Shall we get started?”

In a flash, Ventus held his keyblade in the same reversed grip as always, while Naminé had pulled out her sword and a flash of light brought cards to her hand. And so the group entered the halls of Hollow Bastion.

From a distant spire, a figure in black watched those who would try to reclaim their home. “Looks like our hunch was right. There is a connection here.” A woman’s voice spoke, and with a gesture, she opened a dark portal.

“Well, it’s good that you’ll be here a long time Naminé. Maybe while you’re here looking for your friends. You can help me find something we’ve been wanting to know for a long time.”

Under the hood, Larxene smirked.

“Who Xemnas really is.”

And with that rumination, she departed.

Marluxia stared into the crystal that offered a view to the outside world. He rarely did this, as the outside world was nothing but an endless plain of grass and road.

Until now.

For now the keyblade wielder had found his way onto this road, along with his companions. Searching for those they had lost, the one fallen to darkness, as well as the wandering king.

The assassin turned toward Zexion. “You are certain you can emulate the behavior well enough?”

The schemer nodded. “I have reviewed the reports extensively. I should be able to produce something to capture his attention for long enough.”

“As long as we can make sure he is contained.”

“This plan is perilous.” The stalwart spoke up from his corner of the room. “Without Naminé to interfere with his memories, we run the risk of him losing interest and departing.”

“I understand your concern, but this is our only opportunity to keep him under control until we can complete Kingdom Hearts.” Marluxia looked to the image of the trio sleeping under the moonlit night. “We were able to analyze the world cards from the earlier incident where Naminé initially attempted escape. We should be able to generate worlds that he has travelled through before.”

“Worlds that are only inhabited by heartless.” Vexen interjected. “That is why Zexion’s work in maintaining the illusions is paramount.”

“It may not be as perfect as Naminé’s memories. But I should be able to lead the keybearer to the depths of darkness of his own mind.”

“Then I shall call him.” And with that Marluxia sent a message to Sora.

That something he needed lay ahead of him.

But in exchange Sora would need to lose something precious.

#My fanfiction #KH Fanfiction #Kingdom Hearts #fanfiction #fanfic #what if #runaway wind #Axel #kh axel #roxas #terra #kh terra #erxart #ventus #namine #yuffie #kh yuffie #sora #kh sora

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chrismerle · 2 years

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*rolls in here with some vibes* "I never asked for any of this.", "Some friend you are!", and perhaps "How DARE you!" for some interesting interactions. <3

(me asking for prompts)

Ooh, options. I always appreciate options. Might down the others later, but for the sake of not turning this post into a behemoth, I'm just gonna do the second one this time.

"Some friend you are!"

It may, in fact, be true that one of the first rules Gadfly set when he let them into the manor was that they were to stay out of what was left of the eastern wing. Melli had been quick to agree, grateful for anyone willing to take them in with just an admittedly very reasonable set of ground rules. And of course Eli and Nan had agreed just as quickly; they had been as tired and hungry as Melli was.

But while Melli had continued to stick to those (still admittedly very reasonable) rules, Eli and Nan had known by the next morning that at least one of them was going to be broken.

Of course Gadfly hadn't actually explained what had happened to the eastern wing. He had simply said that it was in ruins--it was--and that it was dangerous--it probably was--and so it was off limits. It looked like it had been burned, though. Hot but slow, until little more than a few support beams remained of the wing above ground, and the basement was cracked open like a gaping maw in the dirt.

Nan and Eli waited until nightfall to creep their way to where the basement beckoned. There had probably been a staircase at some point, but it had presumably been burned away like everything else. Either way, finding a way down wasn't much of an issue when they just could ... jump down.

Eli spread his wings and glided down first, landing gently and carefully. Stone and shattered concrete scrunched under his shoes. Once he was sure of his footing, he called, "Now jump down! I'll catch you!"

Nan summoned an orb of light between her palms and held it out over the break in the floor, eyeing the distance between her and Eli. He lifted his hands towards her, wiggling his fingers expectantly.

Nan took a deep breath, squeezed her eyes shut, and stepped off the edge.

Before she could even begin to fall, something hard hooked around her middle and hauled her backwards. With a shriek, she tumbled, the orb of light shattering. Instead of plunging the area into darkness, though, the shadows only shifted, dancing around Gadfly's lamp.

Nan blinked down at where his cane was still hooked around her middle, until he pulled it away and planted the foot of it back on the ground.

The automaton cleared his throat expectantly and held the lamp out over the break in the floor. Down below, Eli heaved an aggrieved sigh, spread his wings, and flapped his way back up to land beside them.

"You know, I distinctly recall having a conversation about this exact situation," Gadfly observed. Without the walls of the manor to pen the sound in, his voice seemed to echo oddly from behind his mask. "A very vivid recollection, in fact. As if it only happened yesterday evening. How strange."

"Alright, we get it," Eli huffed, shoulders bunching towards his ears as he shoved his hands into his pocket.

Gadfly's chin shifted as he looked between Eli and the basement below. "Evidently you don't."

"We're really sorry!" Nan burst out, hands clenching together in the hem of his shirt. "We won't do it again, we swear!" Even she wasn't sure if she was actually telling the truth in that moment.

Gadfly's mask hid his eyes, but Nan got the impression he was rolling them at her.

"Very convincing." He tapped the foot of his cane against the floor and then pointed it back towards the manor proper. "Go. It's only fair that we go inform your older sister that you're not quite old enough to go without a babysitter."

Eli scoffed. "Some friend you are," he grumbled under his breath.

"Then it's a good thing I'm only your landlord." Gadfly gave him a prod between the wings to urge him into motion, and then ushered Nan along behind him before taking up the rear.

#writing #writeblr #writblr #writeblur #writblur #wip: porcelain #mercarimari #ask #fantasy

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thewhizzyhead · 3 years

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so um yea if you guys thought that tag ramble about having an eva-ish lead in a musical called "Grade 11" was long, then guys i am so sorry cause that is like the least of your problems cause i have even more concept rambles about my many other ideas prepared. oh God.

#LET'S LIST THEM ALL SHALL WE #Misfits - musical i started writing when i was 13 so yea a lot of things changed #current version is about a musical about musical narrators presenting a musical about placing three 'troubled teens' in 1ce bethlehem #to make them become 'fixed' by faith and all yadda yadda AND HOW VERY WRONG IT IS #(it's a jab on most of the musicals my sunday school has presented and it's also a jab to myself when i first wrote this)#(i personally call it Fourth-Wall Breaking: The Musical)#it was gonna be a legit production at my church (i was supposed to work with a professional music team and everything) but i stopped #cause burnout and pettiness (i have some admittedly one sided beef with some church stuffs) and because i didnt like the initial concept #but i will write it someday #Kasaysayan - thought of this when i was 14. kinda wanted a musical about the entirety of ph history #while also exploring different kinds of music and dances in the philippines throughout history #and yea That Will Never Ever Work #could be good as a one time or limited prod but probably never as an actual prod cause yea way too much work #could be good as a concept album tho #also kasaysayan means history #next one #Noli/Fili - musical adaptation of noli me tangere and el filibusterismo (national novels here) but make it have noli in act 1 and el fili in #act 2 #and have the el fili protagonist narrate act 1 through his own eyes and have noli protag do the same to act 2 #and have it foreshadow A LOT of the plot twists in the novel series #I genuinely want this to work someday #oh yea it's ph rock-rap based #oki next #next is Patron - a kinda modern version of the character dynamics in noli me tangere and el filibusterismo #also i made it gay #it's about journalism and activism and revolution #has a lot of elements from dw spring awakening #main protag named Cris Ibarra can be played by any gender (altho i really want it to be a nonbinary exclusive role)#I GENUINELY WANT THIS TO WORK FJJSD IF I CANT PURSUE MT THEN GOD PLEASE LET ME WRITE THIS ALBEIT VERY AMATEURISHLY INSTEAD #anyways there are A LOT more but those are the first three musicals i've come up with so if u wanna know more hit me up with an ask jfjxjs

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simizzy-writes · 2 years

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you can stay every night

|| Pairing: Kenpachi Zaraki x f!Reader

|| Warnings: 18+. just a good ol’ bit of naughtiness. language.

Everything was wet. Slick, damp, sticky, and just wet. Messy.

The room was hot, musty and filled with the stench of sex and sweat. Sinful sounds of licking, kissing and fucking hummed along the walls. It was all hazy, almost too much, but that’s how he liked it.

And you were so, so good for taking it.

For a moment, Kenpachi looked up at you, over the soft feminine curve of your hips and belly, the fullness of your breasts and to your sweet, beautifully flushed face. Your blushed and unbearably sensitive pussy shimmered just a breath away from his lips. He’d already worked it into oblivion, saliva and your natural, slick arousal coating every inch of your cunt inside and out. Dripping. He just wanted to see the bliss on your face before giving you more.

Truthfully, you were spent already. You didn’t have his stamina, or stalwart determination to just wreck yourself with pleasure. He probably knew that and used it to his advantage. Maybe that’s why he fucked you so much - he could use you at his leisure and revel in what a mess he turned you into.

“A-ah…!”

You yelped in shock and pain, legs flinching and closing on instinct, only getting as far as the sides of Kenpachi’s head. He had nipped your swollen clit, holding it between his teeth in an animalistic grin. The tip of his tongue prodded the sensitive little bud, pushing it against the back of his teeth, then side to side.

You writhed. Pain and pleasure mixed in a swirl of his own making. He liked this, and it was always apart of your fuck sessions with him. Startling at first, but after a few more rounds with him you surprised yourself with how much you liked it. Kenpachi never went beyond what you could handle, and it amazed you how easily he understood your limitations but how he could maximize it all within your boundaries at the same time.

He suckled on your clit, pushing your legs back apart with his monstrous hands. Cum for me, he thought. One more time like this.

You couldn’t figure out what to do with your hands. Clench the sheets? Grip his hair? Fuck. This was too good. His mouth was relentless and you wanted to mewl and beg that it was too much. Your pussy couldn’t take it, your clit was so sensitive that this was almost all pain and no pleasure.

“Kenpachi…!”

His tongue worked your clit harder, rolling it the way he knew you loved. It was like a piece of candy to suck on, passing it from one side of his tongue to the other. Sliding against his teeth, his mouth salivating at the sweetness of it. Oh, you were close. Kenpachi was ready for it.

With a long, loud and lewd moan you came undone against his mouth once again. Did this make three - no, four? - orgasms? Who cared? It was everything. Kenpachi sucked on your clit hard, teeth still scraping against your perfect little bud. With each roll of your hips, grinding against his face to work out every possible second of orgasmic heaven, you would feel your clit get pulled and worked in a new way. You wanted to cry, tears even beginning to prick along your lashes.

Where the fuck did he learn to eat pussy so damn good?

You collapsed against the futon, legs spread and your obscenely soaked cunt exposed. You didn’t care. Let him see what a mess he made of you.

“Look at you,” he mocked. “Tired already?”

“Don’t even,” you countered. Your breathing was still ragged, the air around you too hot to feel refreshing. God, you were slick with sweat. Hair stuck to the nape of your neck. For a brief moment, you wanted to call for a time out so that you could at least rinse yourself off, but there was no point in that. Kenpachi was on a roll, and he wouldn’t stop fucking you just yet for anything.

He shifted, positioning himself on his knees and spreading your legs further apart. You felt the stress of it on your hip joints. His fingertips pressed into the lushness of your thighs and he drank in the sight of you.

Skin rosy from heat and pleasure, glowing with sweat. Your nipples were perky and hard, rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath. Oh, your eyes. Hazy and cloudy, high from the pleasure. Lips parted and panting. Everything was absolute perfection.

Kenpachi’s cock ached. Pulsing, throbbing. Clear pre-cum had already been leaking from his swollen tip. Some even had made its way down to his balls. It was like it was weeping with excitement. With one hand he reached for his cock while still holding your thigh with the other, and on his fingertips he felt each vein pulse with anticipation. Fuck her already, it begged. Do it.

He indulged himself and looked back down at your pussy. It was throbbing too, he could see your tight hole tightening around nothing. Still soaking with saliva and your juices. Your clit still swollen and abused.

“Yeaaahh..” he groaned “So pretty, so perfect.”

You watched him give a few long, deliberate strokes to his cock. Your mouth watered at the sight. Everything about him was large and dominating, and his cock was no different. It was huge. Well, it wasn’t like you had much to compare it to, but regardless of your experiences you weren’t blind. Every time that you saw it you wanted it. You loved it and loved the way he fucked you with it. It felt too damn good. It spread your tight pussy open, stretched it, claimed it. It filled you completely and sometimes you liked to think that you could take him better than anyone else may have before. He certainly praised you like it.

With a cocky, indulgent smirk he watched you reach for the backs of your knees, holding your legs back for him. Your pink tongue licked your full lips, and he could see your desire for him, for his cock. He gripped it, almost waving it at you.

“You want this, yeah? You wanna get fucked now?” Kenpachi taunted. Of course you did. He knew that. He didn’t need to see you shake your head yes or hear you purr out a soft please to know what you wanted. For dramatic effect, he smacked his cock down onto your pussy and lower belly.

The weight of it was exquisite, and you wiggled your hips in anticipation. “Please.”

Taking hold of it again, the ache of his own arousal almost too much to bear, he lined it up with your slick hole. Kenpachi didn’t waste any time - there wasn’t any point to draw it out any further - and he sheathed his cock in your awaiting cunt. “Fuuuuck yeah, that’s it.”

You opened up for him and greedily clenched around his dick. You moaned, you purred and even squealed with delight. Yes, yes, yes! It felt so good, so perfect. You melted into nothing but a sloppy mess, perfectly content to get fucked into oblivion and die happy.

“Yeah, you love that, don’t you? You love getting this cock?”

“Yes…!”

He was more than happy to keep giving it to you. Hard, rough, and messy. Sweat dripped from his body, his muscles flexed and tensed with focus. Kenpachi was driven to fuck you into a pathetic pile of cum and exhaustion. You’d be too tired to leave, so you’d stay the night with him, laying in his arms while he stayed awake to enjoy your soft, sleepy breathing. Not that you knew that. That was his own little secret.

Hands gripped your hips and held you in place. God, your pussy was so good. Hot and wet, so tight. He’s fucked it plenty of times by now, but it always felt like the first time. So good. Kenpachi growled and drove his hips into you harder.

The sloppy wet sounds of you taking a good fucking filled the room. You loved it. It was music, and you could feel your pussy gush with wet desire for more.

“Kenpachi….!”

You called his name almost as a warning. Another oragsm was right at the cusp, and you desperately wanted to dive over the edge of it. He wanted it to, as nothing felt as amazing as fucking you as you were cumming. The way you’d tighten around his cock, milking it, coaxing it to cum along with you was sinfully delicious.

“Cum for me,” he urged. “Come on, I know that you can do it. Cum on my cock.”

It was like Kenpachi’s commands actually had sway over your body, because as soon as he spoke them you unraveled, cumming hard.

You shook, moaning his name, delirious with pleasure. He didn’t stop, of course, why would he? He hadn’t reached his orgasm yet. Kenpachi was still going to use your pussy until he was done. You didn’t care anymore. Let him.

Hips crashed, balls slapping against your ass with a sticky, sweaty slap. You were milking him, squeezing and encouraging him to fill you with his hot seed. He wanted to, he was going to. Just a little more…!

With a deep, primal groan he drilled his cock into your juicy cunt until it washed over him. Kenpachi came, riding out his orgasm with deliberate thrusts into your spent pussy. Deep, then shallow, then deep again. He pulsed, leaking out hot ropes of cum deep inside of you.

When he reached the end, he pushed your legs to the side so that he could collapse on the futon next to you. He heaved a sigh, and felt the waves of pleasure begin to wane. “Fuck.”

“Fuck, indeed,” you lazily mused. You were floating off somewhere, tired and sensitive to the touch. It was still hot, musty and pungent in the room. You didn’t care. Eventually you would cool off, rest a little and probably go for another round. Kenpachi’s recovery time was astonishing, really. Right now, you were a limp puddle of sweat and cum. Tired and spent. “Do you mind if-”

He lifted a hand in a dismissive manner. “You don’t have to ask, you know. Of course you can stay the night.”

“Mm, ‘kay. Thank you..”

With the same hand he wiped the sweat from his brow and cast you a glance. Your eyes were closed already, and he knew that you would be asleep shortly, if you weren’t already. Kenpachi smirked, and placed a hand on your thigh affectionately.

You hummed, but he didn’t know if it was in acknowledgement or just reflexive of being touched. But you turned, facing him, eyes still closed in slumber, his hand still on your thigh. Soft little puffs of your breath blew against his arm.

“You can stay every night and every day,” he said, and Kenpachi meant it.

a tip, if you feel so inclined. thank you for reading 💕

#kenpachi x reader #kenpachi zaraki x reader #kenpachi imagine #bleach imagine #kenpachi zaraki

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quindolyn · 3 years

Text

Weeks Without || Poly!Marauders

Word Count: 7,427

A/N: Happy birthday @littlest-dark-age ! While this was not initially meant for you I loved it so much that I thought you might too and I poured a lot of effort into it, enough to show you how much I love you I hope. I think I like this piece! It felt good to write and I hope you all like it too.

Warnings: too long, that's probably the biggest one, angst, fluff, and smut. Slight dom/sub dynamics with dom Rem and Siri, sub Jamesie and maybe switch reader? Potentially just sub, I don't know I feel like any reader x James interaction I write, unless explicitly stated otherwise is at least a little bit dom reader because I project. Oral (female receiving), fingering, hand job, palming, little bit of humiliation. I tried not to include Daddy kink because I know not everyone's into it and I'm pretty sure if any of my stuff can have a daddy kink it does so I tried switching it up. Insecure reader

Masterlist

2k follower celebration

As you approached the end of your time at Hogwarts there was a certain fear that bubbled up inside of you. Like the rest of your peers you had worries about what waited for you outside of Hogwarts, where you were going to live, what you were going to do? How you were going to pay your bills and if the person, or in your case people, you were leaving with were going to stay by your side.

You were sure that everyone with a partner shared the same worries you did, that being if your relationship was going to survive outside of the sheltered walls inside which it formed. For you your worries were multiplied threefold. You didn’t just have one person you were worried would tire and leave you, you had three boys.

They were all undeniably beautiful, there were days you couldn’t fathom how people as beautiful as them had chosen someone like you.

Despite their constant praise, the way they gazed at you during class and in the halls, the hugs and kisses they gave you any chance they had you still weren’t convinced that you were enough for them.

You tried not to show it, tried not to show the boys you loved so dearly how your insecurities were eating away at you. You were eating less, sleeping less, and even though you spent all your time bent over a book in the library, eyes racing over the pages your studies were suffering too. The time you spent in the library wasn’t so much to actually study so much as it was to avoid your boys, even being around them had grown painful. Worried that every kiss they gave you might be getting you closer and closer to the last had you nauseous.

You knew it was ridiculous but you couldn’t help the feeling from gnawing away at you.

Your boys weren’t stupid, though James often acted as though he was, they noticed you pulling back from them. On the rare occasions they were able to get you with them for more than the duration of dinner it was like you were stopping yourself from enjoying being around them.

You’d catch yourself smiling too wide and drawback. To them it was like clouds blocking out the sun, though they’d swear they would’ve preferred the absence of the sun over yours.

There were only so many ways you could avoid them and when it came time for sleep there was no escaping the giant canopy bed in James’ headboy dorm that could easily fit all four of you. It was probably the easiest way for you to be around them, because after a long day of classes and extraneous studying you were out the minute your head hit the pillow. There was no time for them to prod you about your day, ask you where you’d been during your shared free period.

You speedily made your way through your evening routine before the rest of them got to the room and were climbing under the covers as they finally made their entrance.

Tonight you hadn’t been as lucky, as you barreled into the cozy dormitory, decorated in a frankly nauseating amount of scarlet and gold. You entered to find your three boyfriends were already waiting for you sprawled throughout the room.

James sat on the sofa to the left of the king bed, long legs sprawled out in front of him, they were so long that his feet stuck off the end. With his hands clasped behind his head acting as a pillow, he would’ve been the picture of leisure had it not been for the crease between his brows while he conversed with the two other boys in the room.

Sirius sat curled up in Remus’ lap, nestled together on the loveseat; there didn’t appear to be an inch of space between the two of them. Usually when they were found like this it was as though neither of them had a care in the world, too wrapped up in each other to notice anything else that went on around them. This time was different, Sirius held one of Remus’ hands in his, fiddling with it while he gazed off into the air, eyes focusing on nothing in particular.

It wasn’t tension clouding the room so much as it was worry. Worry about you, worry about your relationship, worry about what they might’ve said or done to hurt you.

As you stepped into the room all of their eyes shot to your figure, ultimately finding your face as they tried to tell what sorts of secrets you were hiding in that pretty head of yours.

“Hi poppet,” Remus spoke promptly, knowing that allowing the silence to stretch on would only serve to worsen the situation.

“You guys are here early.”

Out of the corner of your eye you saw the furrow between James’ brows deepen at your response, you weren’t usually one to sidestep a greeting like that. Though in all fairness you hadn’t been acting much like your usual self lately.

“We’ve missed you puppy, feels like we never see you anymore,” It was Sirius who spoke, hands still fidgeting with Remus’ long fingers, finding the Marauders ring that he wore on his ring finger and sliding it up and down the appendage.

You answered with a noncommittal hum as you toed off your shoes, abandoning them by the door to the dorm before moving to the bed where you shrugged off the bag that had been weighing down on your shoulder all day.

Remus quietly eased Sirius off of his lap, helping him into James' open arms awaiting his arrival. Once the raven haired male was settled into the larger boy’s grasp, strong, muscled arms holding him close to his equally toned chest Remus made his way toward you where you sat, silently working on the buttons of your blouse.

“You want help with those, bunny?” Came the steady baritone of Remus’ voice as he stood a few feet before you, head cocked to the side while his hands were buried deep inside of his pockets.

“I’m fine Rem, I’ve got it,” The use of the nickname normally would’ve worked to lighten the worries that were swirling around in the boy’s head. This was counteracted by the despondency of your voice pulling each syllable downwards into mumbled murmur.

“I hate to say it but Siri’s right (Y/N), we don’t see you anymore and we’ve tried to ignore this weird behavior, thinking that it would pass but it hasn’t,” The lycan spoke as he made his way to the bed, sitting down on the mattress next to you but sure to leave a decent amount of space between the two of you, not wanting to spook you more than you had seemed to be.

You ignored his words, instead focusing your attention on unzipping your skirt, loosening the waistband allowed you to take a deep breath you’d been yearning for all day.

“Bunny, we just want to know what’s wrong, talk to us please.”

Lifting your eyes, lids heavy from the stress of the day, at Remus’ desperate plea you found the looming figures of your other two boys hovering over his shoulder. Fingers intertwined as both stormy grey irises and hazel ones gazed at you.

“Nothing’s the matter Remus, I’m just a little stressed out is all. It's nothing any of you have done.”

Technically that was true, it was nothing your boys had done directly that had caused you to pull back from them but still, a lie by omission.

“Bullshit.”

Each of your heads whipped to find the voice who had spoken, your eyes landing on Sirius’ form you found his sullen figure glowering, tucked into James’ side.

“Sirius come on,” Remus murmured, urging the boy to keep his mouth shut.

“No its such fucking bullshit, she’s been acting like this for weeks and I’m sick and fucking tired of her acting like a toddler.” The boy swivelled, redirecting his attention back towards you, “Stop it (Y/N)! Stop lying to us, stop pulling away, just fucking talk to us for fuck’s sake because I can’t fucking do this anymore.”

With each word the boy’s voice raised an octave and you watched James’ hold on Sirius’ shoulder tighten as though he could contain the flow of words that tumbled from his mouth.

It was all too much, the insecure thoughts that bounced around your head, the aches that had settled in your limbs from pushing yourself too hard on too little sleep, the distinct throbbing that resided behind your temples nearly every day by this time.

Then add on Sirius’ harsh words it was all too much.

“I can’t do this,” You mumbled, haphazardly redoing the buttons of the blouse that had been hanging off your shoulders before pulling your bag, abandoned just minutes ago, back onto your shoulder.

“(Y/N) where are you going?” The frustration in Remus’ voice was evident, he’d been so understanding and gentle the past few weeks but even he had his limits and he was not about to watch you walk away from them.

“My dorm.”

“Since when do you sleep in your dorm?” It was the first time you’d heard James’ voice since you entered the lavish dorm room. The hurt laced in each word was unmistakable, guilt at being the one to hurt the boy you loved so much served to twist the knife that was already planted firmly between your ribs.

For the first time in weeks you finally voiced the overwhelming thought that had been plaguing you, the thought that had caused you to pull away from them in the first place, “You’re better off without me.”

It seemed as though everything in the castle had stopped to listen on your conversation, you were almost certain you could make out the little figure of a portrait peeking its head into the gargantuan frame that hung on the furthest wall of the dormitory should Dumbledore need to call James out in the middle of the night to perform some headboy duty.

The room was so quiet as the boys, your boys, soaked in your words that you swore you could hear Slughorn all the way down in the dungeons, munching on the lavish pineapple that had been dropped off at his office a few hours earlier and that he had saved until now to indulge himself in.

“What do you mean poppet?” The crease between Remus’ brows matched the confusion so evident in his voice.

“I mean…” You trailed off as you felt tears well in your eyes, weighing down on your bottom lashes as they threatened to spill over. You couldn’t find it within yourself to meet any of their gazes, instead keeping your head downturned, eyes trained on your sock clad feet and you shifted your weight from foot to foot.

Before you could force yourself to look up you felt a strong, steady hand slip under your mandible, from the rough calloused nature of said hand you knew without a doubt that it belonged to James.

He slowly turned your visage upwards to meet his, heart crumbling as he took in your waterlogged optics, red and puffy, sunken in my large dark shadows that appeared to be frighteningly close to bruises.

“Why are you thinking that you’re not good enough for us angel?” He spoke, his voice cracking as he took in your heart wrenching appearance.

“Jamie,” You sobbed before throwing yourself into his chest, the barriers you’d erected between you and the rest of them crumbling as you saw the helpless look in James’ beautiful hazel eyes.

The fears and doubts that had haunted you for weeks were still there but you couldn’t find it within yourself anymore to listen to them when they told you to keep your space, to hide from the people you loved the most.

You clung to James’ broad shoulders, standing on your tiptoes so that you could throw your arms around his neck. You felt the weight of your satchel once again slip from your shoulder accompanied by a soft thud against the hardwood floor as one of James’ arms wrapped around your waist, the other slipping under your bum, landing on your upper thighs to support your weight as he carried you over to the canopied bed.

James kept you safely in his lap, sitting down with Sirius and Remus on either side of the two of you.

Even if any of them wanted to pry you off of James there was no way you were leaving the warm solace of his hold, the solidity of his thighs underneath you, the strong planes of his back sprawled out underneath your palms.

There was a comfort in all of it that you hadn’t realized you missed so much, you felt a pang in your chest as you contemplated the boy’s reaction to your insecurities. Would they confirm them, and these past weeks, which could’ve been spent in the exact position you found yourself in now, soaking up the comfort they brought you, had been wasted?

Though you were perfectly content to sit there, snuggled into James’ chest the boys wanted answers, and though they tried their best this was the most like yourself you’d been in forever and they were desperate for answers to their questions before you slipped away from them again.

“I’m sorry I yelled Princess I’ve just been so worried about you,” Sirius murmured, his hand gently sliding up your thigh to rest under the hem of the plaid fabric.

All you could offer the boy was a nod as you turned your visage to meet his, wiping your nose with the back of your hand, “It’s okay Siri-”

“No it's not,” He refuted empathically, his hand moving from your thigh to cup your cheek, dragging his thumb across your cheek bone in soothing circles, “If anyone else spoke to you like that I’d hex them into oblivion. I’m sorry.”

He leaned down, tilting your face ever so slightly upwards to meet your lips. As usual his were unnaturally and enviously red, tasting of smoke and the strawberry candy he stole from the pockets of James’ robes.

His lips brushed gently against yours, it was the first kiss the two of you had shared in weeks that wasn’t a quick peck as you passed in the halls or as you rushed away from them after breakfast. Understandably, he was in no mood to rush it.

You melted into his touch as his grip on your cheek tightened, keeping you from pulling away as he deepened the kiss, kissing with a sort of passion foregin to the both of you. Different from what you were used to, lust filled kisses as he ground your hips into his. This was a sort of apology from the both of you, sorry to have shied away from this for so long and he sorry for blowing up at you.

He kept his lips melded to yours for as long as possible before finally pulling away to suck in a deep breath, replenishing his depleted lungs.

“Gotta tell us what’s going on in that pretty head of yours baby,” Came Remus’s voice from the other side of Jamesie’s broad shoulders, lulling your head off of the one it rested on to meet his sympathetic eyes.

You felt a familiar panic bubble up once again in your throat at the thought of voicing all your insecurities, scenario after scenario running through your head going through all the different ways the boys could react to your theories.

Suddenly you felt like an idiot and felt your cheeks burn as blood rushed to them, resisting the urge to bury your face back in James’ shoulder you swallowed, “W-What if,” You stopped for a moment, sniffing and going to wipe your nose on the back of your hand you were stopped when Remus’ large hand wrapped around your wrist.

Slender fingers slipped a silky hanky into your palm for you to wipe your nose on and you smiled as you glimpsed the initials “RJL” stitched sloppily into it. This was no doubt done by James when he was laid up with a Quidditch injury and had taken up stitching, amongst other things.

“Thanks Rem,” You murmured as you swiped the soft cloth underneath your nose before slipping it back into his hand, you felt your cheeks burn, embarrassed to be handing him back the used, and admittedly grosser material, but ever the gentleman he paid it no mind.

“Now what was it that you were saying (Y/N)?”

You braced yourself, clenching the covers into your fists as you forced the words that had been swirling around in your head out, coming to terms with that there was no more delaying the inevitable.

“Are we gonna stay together once we graduate?”

It was conflicting having finally spoken those words that had tormented you for countless days, hours upon hours of pain and anxiety causing you unspeakable turmoil. It felt as though it was all lifted from your shoulders, you’d spoken the words, put them out there and they were no longer your pain to bear alone.

At the same time, they didn’t just exist in your head anymore. They were real and the people who mattered most had just heard them, their impending response only served to make you grip the sheets even tighter.

“Where’s this coming from angel?” James asked, confusion tightening up his voice.

“I don’t know,” You whimpered, “I’ve just been thinking and you all are so fucking beautiful and perfect, how am I supposed to keep up with you when we leave here. I already don’t deserve any of you. It's already bad enough in here with all the girls and guys fawning over all of you but how am I supposed to fair when you have the entire world at your fingertips?”

As they soaked in the meaning behind your words James’ arms tightened around you to the point of bordering on discomfort but it was so reassuring to be held that close, to know that that was the reaction your words had on them that you couldn’t find it within yourself to complain, only to hold him even tighter.

“Darling,” Sirius’ sympathetic tone was enough to shatter your already fragile facade and before you knew it there were fat teardrops sliding along down your soft cheeks.

You could feel your tears dampening the material of James’ old t-shirt but couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“I-I don’t wanna lose you guys,” You sobbed, letting all the pent up emotion from the past weeks flow out, coming off of you in waves as the knot that had been residing in your chest slowly began to unravel. Each tender caress of your back and stroke of your hair assisted in its efforts until all that was left was your heart. Which, considering that it had been tangled up in barbed wire, thorns piercing your heart with every beat, was in surprisingly good condition, still intact and pumping along.

“You’re not gonna lose us (Y/N/N), ever,” James promised into your ear, his chapped lips brushing across the shell of your ear.

“You can’t promise that,” You protested, words muffled as you spoke into his shoulder, “There might be someone else who you guys love more than me, who’s prettier and smarter and can keep up with you all. M not good enough for any of you and what if one day you realize that?”

“Don’t talk like that princess,” Sirius’ grip was steely on your forearm as he used it to get your attention, “I’ve spent my entire life being told I wasn’t good enough and the truth is that we aren’t good enough for you. I know what it feels like to feel like the people in your life deserve better than you but there is no doing better than you, no one else on this earth holds a candle to you my beautiful girl.”

As you took in each of Sirius’ words letting them heal the puncture wounds on your heart from being wrapped in thorny vines Remus spoke, “We love you more than anything puppy, the day you walked into our lives was the best day of my life and I can’t think of a world where any of us live without you. Especially outside of Hogwarts, things are gonna be just as scary for us as they are for you poppet and I know I don’t wanna do it without you.”

It felt good to hear that the worries you’d been obsessing over were really all in your head, that they really did love you as much as you loved them, but there was still one boy you needed to hear the words from before you could completely relax.

“I’m going to marry one day (Y/N/N), I’m going to marry all of you and we’re going to be Misters and Missus Potter. Remmy’s right, I don’t wanna ever wake up and not have you right there next to me. Mum and Dad say I have to wait till we’re settled and we have jobs and a place to live before I can propose but it's gonna happen bunny, I just hope you don’t realize we’re a pile of daft idiots before then.”

As a lopsided goofy smile quirked his lips upward you felt a similar force mimicking the movement on your own, “Even if you all are daft idiots, m’never gonna find anyone like you guys. My pretty boys.”

“You hear that mates? We’re her pretty boys, if I didn’t know better I’d say (L/N) has a little crush on all of us.”

“Oh sod off Siri,” You let out a watery giggle, gently nudging the boy’s arm as you looked up at him through water logged lashes.

“Is that true puppy? You like us?” Even though he was usually the most mature of your boys Remus’ mischievous side never failed to shine when he called on it.

“No,” You refuted, “I’m actually rather fond of Severus now that you mention it.”

You’d pulled away from Jamesie’s chest to be able to look at each of them but with your words you were harshly tugged back into him.

“Not funny,” The sullen boy murmured into your ear, “Ours, not Snivellus’.”

“Shhh s’okay bubba I know you love me,” You soothed him, tangling your fingers in his hair like you knew he liked.

“I’m so sorry bunny we ever made you feel like Snape loved you more, I never want you to feel like we don’t love you.” He squeezed you, “How can we make it up to you?”

“I just got in my own head is all,” You explained, “I was telling the truth earlier when I said that it was nothing any of you had done, just shouldn’t spend all that time alone with my thoughts.”

Sirius’ elegant hand started rubbing up and down your back as you all sat there, soaking in each other’s presence after so many weeks of turmoil. Each time his hand slipped lower and lower down your back till he was groping your ass with the palm of his hand.

“Do you believe us poppet?” Remus asked, taking note of Sirius’ hand on your bum, “You believe that we’ll love you till the day we die?”

You nodded your head, face still buried into James’ neck, “I know you’re telling the truth Remmy, it's probably just going to take a little while for my brain to start really believing it, I spent so long worrying about it that mt stupid brain is’nt just gonna start listening to me.”

Remus nodded as he brushed a piece of hair from your face, it was the answer he’d been expecting.

“How about we show you how much we love you puppy?” Sirius asked from your other side, hand sliding from your ass to your thigh before slipping underneath the hem of your skirt.

“What do you mean Siri?” You cocked your head to the side in a rather obvious display of your confusion.

Wordlessly he stood up and slipped you from James’ lap moving to the foot of the bed where he laid you out on your back. Your blouse hung open off your shoulders revealing your lace clad breasts to the man as his eyes raked over your body, taking in every curve and line of your body.

Starting on the cushiony pillows of your lips, red and raw from gnawing away at them all the way down to the soft lines of your thighs he took his time appreciating every millimeter of you before dragging his eyes back up to the hem of your skirt.

One graceful hand slid to the waistband, already loosened he bent down to press a kiss where the material had rubbed your skin raw over the course of the day.

As your panty clad center was revealed to him Sirius swiftly dropped to his knees, his eyes quickly darting to Remus over your left shoulder for permission for what he was about to. It was granted to him with a soft nod.

“What are you doing Siri?” You pondered as he slid your legs apart from each other, sitting up on his knees as he began pressing sloppy kisses onto the insides of your thighs.

Instead of getting an answer Remus spoke, his words directed to the boy between your legs as though his words would have no consequence on you, “You can mark her Sirius, let everyone know that she’s our pretty girl.”

His words sent a zap of excitement up your back as you remembered how good it felt to be their pretty girl. Something you hadn’t felt like in weeks.

You bucked your hips as Sirius’ lips ghosted over your pussy still hidden to him behind the lacy material that matched your bra, “I’m showing you how much I love you puppy,'' He responded to your earlier posed question, “Now come on, lift your hips f’me,'' He murmured as he slipped the panties along with your school shirt from your hips revealing your pussy to his hungry gaze. Sirius carefully pulled the garments from your legs before dropping them to the floor next to where he knelt.

Inching closer and closer to your cunt as he worked his way up your thighs leaving a trail of kisses in his wake he made sure to sink his teeth into the flesh at certain points, just hard enough that if he sucked he was sure to leave behind mouse shaped bruises. The thought of being marked by him caused a ripple of arousal to go straight to your core.

Once he was satisfied with the marks he’d left on your thighs the raven haired boy moved quickly, nosing your folds apart to breathe in your scent, even with the minimal stimulation you’d had you were already soaking, though Sirius often seemed to do that to you.

“Fuck,” You swore as his nose bumped your clit and you reached out to grab onto the bedding but found James’ hand instead, wrapping your hand around his middle and index finger as you scrunched your eyes closed.

“Pretty baby,” James cooed as he leaned down to smear a kiss across your brow, furrowed from pleasure, “Siri making you feel good?”

You nodded fervently as the aforementioned boy licked a broad stripe from your quivering, sopping entrance to your clit, lifting up the hood to suck gently as James often sucked on your tits. You smiled thinking that you might fall asleep that way tonight because you knew nothing made the boy quite as happy as both falling asleep and waking up with your tit in his mouth.

“Use your words puppy,” Remus’ voice sounded from your otherside and you whipped your head to face him wondering when he’d moved over there, “Wanna hear that pretty voice of yours.”

“Yes Remmy, feels so so good,” Your words hitched as Sirius slipped a finger inside of you, continuing to suck on your clit as he did so.

As you spoke your eyes wandered downwards and you were met with a familiar bulge having formed in Remus’ trousers. The werewolf’s gaze followed yours and smiled as his eyes landed on his crotch.

Your head quickly pivoted to the otherside finding a matching bulge in James’ trousers. A pang of guilt hit your heart as you hadn’t even thought about either of their pleasure, being too overwhelmed by your own as Sirius had thrown your legs over his shoulders allowing him to pull himself closer to your dripping, aching cunt.

Somehow your hand had found its way to Remus’ cock as you mindlessly palmed at his bulge as though that and that alone would work to help it escape from its zippered cage and into your awaiting hand.

“Can I have your cock Rem, please?” You begged looking up at him with wide eyes, fingers fumbling as they finally stumbled across the zipper.

“Course you can bunny,such a good girl asking me for m’cock so nicely, let me get it out for you.”

Remus expertly lifted his hips as he unzipped his zipper, sliding his trousers and boxers down to his mid thigh allowing his cock to spring free.

As his cock was revealed to you Sirius added a second finger into your pussy, curling it at just the right spot to hit the sensitive spot inside of you each and every time he thrusted his fingers. As he pushed the second finger inside of you you felt the distinct chill of metal, you gasped at the unique, though certainly not unwelcome sensation.

Glancing downwards you saw that the hand belonging to the arm that was pinning your hips to the mattress did not bear the signature Marauders ring they all wore proudly on their ring finger. Having his marauders ring thrusted in and out of you made you clench around his long, slender fingers, the extra stretch provided by the jewelry was impossibly hot.

The combination of seeing Remus’ cock, standing proud and tall as his tip, bright red, leaked pre cum onto his shaft and the extra stretch of not only another finger inside of you, but a ring, had you squeezing your legs around Sirius’ head.

Flicking your gaze down towards him you were met with Sirius’ eyes already on you and he circled your clit with his tongue. Much to your chagrin he pulled his head away from your cunt, smoothing his palm up your stomach as he smiled at you with the most sincere look in his eyes, “You’re beautiful like this puppy, so perfect all laid out for us, making a mess all over my face.”

Looking at the bottom of his face you saw the mess he was talking about, his mouth and chin were glistening with your slick. Before you could reply Sirius was diving back into your pussy, scooping his arms under your thighs to lift your hips so that he had even more through access to your pretty cunt.

Any breath you would’ve used to respond was pulled from you as Sirius’ tongue began working magic on your cunt, tracing it painfully slowly before abruptly speeding up.

Remembering the gift that had been bestowed upon you you grappled for Remus’ cock, quickly wrapping your hand around it and beginning to pump up and down, loving nothing more than the way he throbbed beneath your touch.

“That’s a good girl, so good at playing with m’cock, there’s a good girl,”

“Like this?” Your wide eyes stared up at Remus as you twisted your wrist pulling a strangled gasp from him.

“Yes baby, just like that.”

You were mesmerized by his cock as you watched the head disappear before reappearing from your fist as you worked up and down his shaft, your hand working along the natural curve of his prick.

A whiny moan from your other side broke your concentration as you turned your head to investigate it, never halting your movements up and down Remus’ member.

Your eyes fell upon James’ whimpering form, shifting uncomfortably as his eyes flickered back and forth between your hand on Remus’ cock, Sirius’ head buried between your legs and your face, pleasure plastered over your every feature. God you looked beautiful when you were getting eaten out.

Finally you settled on the raging boner visible through James’ trousers, it looked almost painful the way it was straining against the restrictive fabric.

“Aww Jamesie m’sorry, been neglecting your cock,” You mewled, the hand not on Remus’ cock moving to palm James through his trousers.

“That’s okay bunny, m’good just watching you, fuck you’re gorgeous.”

You threw your head back as Sirius pinched at your clit, his tongue and fingers having swapped places as he circled your tight entrance which was clenching around nothing, but who could blame you?

You were in ecstasy.

There was a familiar fire burning in the pit of your belly, one that had begun simmering the second Sirius had looked you up and down once having laid you down on the bed.

A small whimper escaped you as you felt James’ strong calloused hand grope your clothed breast over the mesh and wire cage you kept them concealed in because fuck did that feel good.

You turned your visage to view Remus, he was painfully hard now and you made sure to keep groping James on the other side of you as you quickened your speed on Remus’ cock.

“Merlin puppy that feels so good, our good puppy. I love you so much my love, so much,” His praise came as he tangled his hands in your hair, using his hold on your to direct your face up to view his. He looked angelic, beads of sweat forming on his hairline with clouded over hazel eyes and the most beautiful lips you’d ever seen that released haggard groans and breaths.

A whine tumbled from your lips at the praise, Remus was always the gentler out of your doms, James barely counting as most of the time he was on his knees with you ready to obey his next command, but his praise seemed to be affecting you more than you were used to. Not that you were complaining though, on the contrary, you were living for it as it spurred you closer and closer to orgasm.

You squeezed Remus’ cock as Sirius nipped at your clit, the sensation walking the delicate line between pleasure and pain but jarring nonetheless. You’d be lying if you said that it didn’t send a rush of arousal to the fire now beginning to roar in your belly.

The feeling of James and Remus’ cocks in your hands was oddly erotic and as they worked to ground you as Sirius pulled you further and further into bliss the holdon them, feeling every vein and ridge and twitch turned you on more and more and had you bucking into Sirius’ mouth.

“I’m gonna cum!” You screamed as Sirius sped up his ministrations on your pussy, sucking your clit between his lips as he mercilessly pistoned his fingers in and out of you.

“M gonna cum too,” James admitted, sucking in a tight breath as he wriggled his hips, resisting the urge to buck up as you lackadaisically palmed at his still clothed crotch, never having the time to properly undress.

The thought of cumming with James pushed you right to the edge to the point where you could barely form words, but knowing you’d need permission before you were allowed to cum you sought out the one person who could grant you such. “Can I cum?” You pleaded, turning your head to face Remus, “Please Rem let me cum please!”

“You gonna cum too Jamesie?” The lycan’s eyes were trained on James’ face, eyes wide as he watched your hand slip up and down Remus’ curved length.

Upon receiving his answer, a yes delivered in rushed nods, Remus turned back to you, “Yes baby, go ahead and cum for us, make a mess all over Siri’s face. Gonna look so pretty when you cum undone, such a pretty girl.”

That final praise tipped you over the edge, sending you into a bliss filled oblivion as warmth seeped to every nook and cranny in your body. You felt your legs tense and spasm as you squeezed your thighs around Sirius’ head, bucking into his face to get as much stimulation as possible because there was no way for you to get enough.

You distantly registered a string of curses leaving your lips as euphoria washed through your body, taking with it any little doubts and worries that hadn’t parted with the boy’s earlier kind words.

As your orgasm passed and you blinked your eyes open you found a lightness in your chest you hadn’t felt in months. All the wounds from being wrapped up in thorns so long seemed to have healed on your heart, to see you tested it out, letting a singular thought about the boys drift through your consciousness. You were immediately reminded of Sirius’ head still in between your legs, lapping up the slick that had made a mess all over the insides of your thighs, James’ softening prick under one palm and Remus’ still rock hard one in the other.

All those worries you had let occupy your thoughts for months seemed stupid and trivial as you remembered just how much your boys loved you.

“Well would you look at that,” You were pulled from your thoughts by Remus’ voice, following his gaze to James who sat resting on his hands, panting, with an unmistakable stain fresh on the front of his trousers.

“Did Prongs cum in his pants?” Sirius simpered, also huffing, though for completely different reasons as he lifted his head from your cunt, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The seemingly normal sight sent a shiver up your spine but you quickly shook the thought away.

You nodded your head as your eyes caught on the stain on the front of his trousers but no one seemed to notice.

James’ cheeks were burning bright red as Remus came up behind him, brushing the hair out of his face as he leaned down to press a kiss to the crown of James’ head.

Remus helped the submissive boy to his feet, all the while murmuring quiet praises you couldn’t hear from where you laid until one was spoken loudly enough for your ears, “Come on bubba lets get those boxers off,” The sandy haired boy prompted, “Show (Y/N/N) how pretty you think she is, she made you cum in your pants, I don’t think any of us have ever done that before have we?”

James shook his head as Remus quickly undid the zipper on the other boy’s trousers. The taller boy kneeled to help him step out of his trousers and boxers, leaving him naked from the waist down.

It was an undeniably hot sight, James’ half hard cock resting against his toned thigh, both covered in his cum from his untimely release.

Your eyes were pulled up to Remus as he let out an appreciative hum as he inspected the ruined boxers in his hand.

He slipped onto the bed next to you, “Come on puppy sit up f’me,” Opening his arm for you to settle into his side.

“And you Jamesie,” He prompted, patting his thigh for the boy to sit on. As James settled onto the hard plane of muscle Remus’ still throbbing erection poked into his back, the leaking head smearing precum along the boy’s toned back.

Sirius settled in behind all three of you, peering over your shoulder at the soiled boxers, one hand resting on your shoulder and the other on Remus’. You melted under his touch and snuggled ever closer into Remus’ side, turning your head to press a kiss to the back of Sirius’ hand.

“Y’made Jamesie cum without even taking him out of his pants puppy, can you believe that? That’s how fucking sexy we all think you are, made him cum without even directly touching his cock princess.”

“S’like you’ve got super powers,” James interjected, his eyes trained on you, “Your hand angel, its magic.”

You chuckled at his choice of words, whether or not you were intentional you doubted but it made them all the more cute.

“It’s so pretty,” You murmured, running your index finger through the sticky mess before bringing it up to your lips, sucking it completely clean as you couldn’t get enough of James’ perfect taste. “You taste really good Jamesie.”

The boy at the center of your current conversation turned, hiding his head in the crook of Remus’ neck mumbling a “thank you” into the delicate scarred skin.

“Don’t need to be shy,” Sirius crooned, out of character with the gentleness in his tone, as he combed his fingers through James’ dark tresses, “It’s fucking unbelievable how hot it is.”

You smiled at the delicate interaction between the two boys as James looked up at Sirius with wide eyes and puckered his lips, silently demanding a kiss. It was a demand Sirius was all too ready to obey as he dipped down, sealing James’ lips with his.

As he pulled away he caught you staring at him with want etched all over your face, “Don’t worry puppy,” He simpered, moving to cup your face in his hand, “You can get a kissie too.”

His tongue brushed against the seal of your slips as he deepened the kiss before abruptly pulling away, not wanting to get himself any more wound up than he already was.

“My beautiful girl,” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he smiled down at you.

“You two need to get cleaned up,” Remus spoke as you and Sirius gazed at each other, “You, especially Jamesie, made quite the mess of yourself.”

James whined at the subtle comment but aside from that made no other objection.

You on the other hand had other, more pressing worries.

“But what about you, Remmy? You’re still hard and Siri hasn’t even been touched yet, need to get you two off,” Your words came out frantic at the prospect of leaving two of the men you loved so much unsatisfied but Remus was quick to quell your worries with a soothing kiss to your hairline.

“Don’t worry poppet, Siri and I will take care of each other while Jamesie runs a bath for the two of you, yeah? We’ll be right in to join you, have a feeling neither of us are going to last all that long.”

You were reluctant to agree after how amazing you’d been made to feel by your boys since you’d arrived at the dorm and the thought of leaving two of them to take care of each other was frustrating, your frustration did not outweigh the pleasure a warm bubble bath promised and in the end you crumbled.

“Fine.”

“Good girl,” Remus extolled as James slipped from his lap and stood before you, arms open and ready to engulf your significantly smaller figure.

You all but leapt into his embrace, loving the way his strong arms could so easily support you.

“Come on angel,” He cooed down at you, “S’bath time.”

Remus and Sirius waited until the two of you had entered the adjoining bathroom before leaping to their feet, their hands quickly finding the other’s chest desperate to pull another close.

James kicked the door closed behind him but not with enough force to fully close the door, the room beyond it was still visible through a small crack.

Through the crack in the door you were able to see Remus and Sirius and even over the roar of the running water James had started that was slowly filling the ginormous bathtub that sat at the center of the room you could make out the words that fell from their lips.

“You’re gorgeous mon chéri,” Sirius muttered against Remus’ shoulder as he tugged on Remus’ cock, the two boys had made quick time and Sirius’ aching member was already in Remus’ palm.

“Just as beautiful as both of our babies.”

“Impossible.”

“Shut up and cum for Godric’s sake,” The smaller man whined, “I want a bath.”

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