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pinguwrites · 7 months

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You Set My Soul Alight | Jonathan Crane

Pairing -> sub!jonathan crane x villain!reader

Summary -> You and Jonathan Crane have always been at odds. He's an arrogant asshole and you're a sarcastic shit, and no matter what you always find a way to bump heads. The worst part about it is that deep down you find him brilliant and attractive and utterly intoxicating. One day, Crane comes to you with a plea to enticing to resist, and you find this the perfect opportunity to put him in his place.

Warnings -> smut (minors dni), enemies with feelings, sub!Jon acting like a brat, swearing, dom!reader, degradation kink, ma'am kink, unprotected sex, edging, hair pulling, ball slapping, slapping in general, if you squint real hard Jonathan's lowkey a little sexist, bruce wayne is a playboy, reader's kinda a simp

Word count: 5k

Disclaimer: The Dark Knight trilogy/DC characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

Jonathan Crane glared at you, his piercing blue eyes filled with a layer of contempt and almost embarrassment like he was regretting this entire endeavor. It was delightful, seeing him in this state, and you made sure to enjoy every second of it — the way his cheeks were tinting a light pink, his muscles tensed up and his tone coming out a desperate yet still arrogant plea. Moments like these were rare, and you were ready to savor and drag them out every chance you got.

“I need your help,” he repeated, his tone distasteful like he was swallowing a bitter pill. “I told you, I need more money for my experiments, but I can’t do it without any funding. Wayne Enterprises is hosting a gala next week. All the richest of the city will be there and all of them are looking to donate. Charity, science, whatever will make them look good. I know you’re going, so I’m asking — as polite as I can be — please, get me an invite.”

You tilted your head to the side, eyes trailing off to look at some random painting on the wall. You briefly wondered how he got past your home security, but after a few seconds, you focused your attention back on him. “Sorry, what did you say? Can you repeat that?” you said with a slight grin.

Jonathan pursed his lips. “Don’t be clever with me.” But then he shakes his head and lets his serious facade go. “We both know you have the connections to score another invite . . . Please, my darling.”

Your heart fluttered at the nickname, the way it always did when he called you that. You wondered if he knew just how much you enjoyed it.

“I like it when you beg, it’s always been a good look on you.”

Jonathan smiles. A mock smile.

“Well, it’s true. No point in getting all upset.” You shrug, heading over to your kitchen to get some iced coffee for the both of you. “Tell me, why should I help you? Why should I help the man who has made it his mission to offend me every time we speak?”

You may have been a little unfair in saying that. Sure, he was a brat, but so were you. In fact, ever since you two met you had always been at each other’s throats, demeaning one another, insulting everything from intellect to personality to looks. You doubt your paths would have ever crossed had it not been for your good friend Harley, who introduced you both one fateful summer evening.

You don’t know what went wrong that day. Maybe it was the weather, the exceptionally hot wind that only frequented Gotham once every couple of years, the ones that made the city cranky and sweaty, or perhaps it was simply a bad first impression, the ones that just happened every once in a while. It had happened far too long ago to remember what it was that made you dislike Jonathan so much in the first place, and you were sure it didn’t matter. According to everyone who knew him, he had always been an ass, but he was good company once you got to know him.

Maybe he was. You wanted to figure that out, to peel away the layers of armor. You could be friends, lovers even. He could be yours. Yours to do whatever you wanted with. Yours to put in place, because god knows he needed it.

You weren’t sure when you started to think like this. To grow an obsession, but you did, and you couldn’t stop your feelings now. You didn’t want to stop. Loving Jonathan was too addictive, no matter how much he pretended to hate you — because you knew he didn’t actually hate you. Otherwise, he wouldn’t stop in once every while, under the pretense of snarky put-downs or brags. He wouldn’t graze his fingers with yours when walking by, and he wouldn’t ask your friends (namely Harley) what you did, what you liked, and what you talked about.

“Because deep down,” Jonathan answered, following you into the kitchen, “you know I’m brilliant, and you know I deserve your help.” He accepted the coffee, taking a small sip before continuing, “But you’re too prideful to admit it.”

“Maybe I am, but that’s not a good reason. Deserve isn’t enough, Crane. At least not for me. I know you can do better than this, convince me. That mouth must be good for something.”

Jonathan paused, his tongue briefly sweeping over his lower lip, making it glisten in the light of the lamp. You weren’t sure if the brief silence was because he got flustered, or he was just thinking. “Then do it because you want to,” he finally said. “Because you know my research is important and you care for it, enough to do me this one simple favor.”

“I don’t know . . .” you trailed off in a teasing tone.

It seemed like Jonathan was getting annoyed again. “My dear, won’t you help me?”

“I’m still thinking.”

He groaned. “Pretty please?”

You let out a little sigh, barely audible. “I will. For you.”

That last part had intended to come off as flirtatious and pretentious, but instead, it was soft and delicate, so vulnerable it took you off guard.

“Thank you,” he said, setting his glass down. He had finished all of the coffee, quickly enough so that there were still ice cubes lying on the bottom of the glass. “I’ll pick you up, around four. Who knows, maybe we’ll even have some fun.”

And that was it. He left through your front door without saying anything else, leaving you with thoughts of the gala and what dress you were going to wear.

That next week you had settled on one and bought yourself a burgundy dress, a beautiful shade of red, one like expensive wine or fresh blood, a color that you knew looked good on you. It was a deep cut that went through the valley of your breasts, but if you pressed your arms inwards just slightly, which you fully intended to do, they would push up. It was a look classy enough for a gala, but still seductive enough to garner attention.

Originally, you weren’t going to attend the function at all. This kind of stuff had always been boring for you, even as a child who was forced to go, but if Jonathan was going on your behalf then you sorta had to and definitely wanted to.

A ring sounded through your house. He was here.

You opened the door and took a deep breath once you saw Jonathan. He was dressed in a neat suit, but not like the suit he was wearing when you last saw him. This one was charcoal black, silky, and smooth, with a white handkerchief in his outer breast pocket. His shoes were the same color and looked like they had just been shined, and in his hand was a bouquet of red roses.

“For you,” he said, placing them in your hands. His eyes swept over your figure, and his mouth parted for a moment. “It matches.” You huffed, secretly flattered. “But it’s such a shame.” You furrowed your eyebrows, confused. “Such a pretty little dress wasted on such an ugly little thing.”

You blinked, and then tossed the flowers to the side, letting them fall into a patch of dirt (you were definitely going to pick them up later). “Like you’re such a piece of work.”

“I am,” he said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Men and women love me.”

Despite how attractive you found him, you really didn’t believe that. You were sure his attitude warded most people off, and besides, he was an introvert and a criminal. Dating wasn’t just something people like him did often.

“We’ll see. This gala will be filled with attractive young bachelors. Get one interested in you and I’ll admit you're handsome,” you challenged.

“Admit?” He laughed, a beautiful laugh. “Admit implies that you already find me handsome, you just don’t want to confess so.”

This man needed to be slapped. He needed to be given a good, hard hit across the face.

“You know what? I feel like being alone tonight. I think I’ll just go to the gala without you.”

You were about to close the door, intending to head to your garage, but Jonathan grabbed your wrist and pulled you outside, shutting the door behind you.

“No takebacks. You promised. Where’s your honor?”

“Honor?” You scoffed. “I’m a killer, what did you expect?”

Jonathan must have really thought that you were going to leave because he gripped your wrist tighter. “I’m sorry,” he quickly said. “I’ll be good tonight.” He placed his index finger to his thumb with his free hand and made a zipping motion across his lips. “See?”

“You better be. I’m doing you a favor here. Now, come inside, we’ll take my car—”

“I have a car,” Jonathan said. “I even got us a driver.”

You took a peek over his shoulders. Sure enough, there was a fancy car waiting in the driveway, engine still on. It was difficult to see through the windows but you could make out the faint outline of a man in the driver’s seat.

“If you insist.”

He held out his arm for you to take, and while you did want to, you instead shoved it away. For a moment, you swore a flicker of hurt crossed his face, but it was gone too fast for you to be sure it was even there at all.

“Where’s my invite?” he asked.

“You don’t have one. You’re going as my plus one.”

“As your date?”

“It’s not a date. I thought you said you were going to be a good boy. What’s with all this complaining?”

“I’m not complaining, I was expressing my feelings. You should work on that. As a psychiatrist, I recommend—”

“—I recommend you shut the fuck up.”

Jonathan put his hands up, surrendering, but he did so beaming.

It hadn’t taken too long to get to the party. Traffic was high as always, but time seemed to be flowing faster than ever, despite you and Jonathan staying silent.

When you arrived there was a line of cars. Wayne Manor, a building you had only been to twice before, was still as impressive as you remember. It was a collection of elegant architecture and stonework, with a large wooden entrance that opened up to a main hall. The size of the driveway and front lawn was a bit unnecessary, at least to you, but what else could you expect from old money?

After getting out of the car you were greeted by cameras and reporters, lights flashing in your eyes, but you didn’t bother with them.

Jonathan reached out his hand, and this time you did take it — but only because everyone was watching, and if you pushed him away it would have caused an unnecessary scene. Jonathan’s driver drove the car away for parking and you both walked inside.

The inside was spacious, with chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and people dressed classy, with gloves and diamond earrings, all mingling and chatting with each other about the stock market or their annoying ex-spouse or how it was such a bother when their vacation to Switzerland had to be canceled because of work. There was a tray of snacks and waiters walking around with luxurious drinks, something you immediately took advantage of.

“Thank you, sir,” you said politely, taking a glass of champagne, but before you could take a sip someone called out your name.

You turned around to see Bruce Wayne himself waving over to you, a boyish charm about him. He had two women on his arms, models or prostitutes, or both, you couldn’t tell, but they were drop-dead gorgeous.

Your parents did business with him, and as a result, you met him at a young age. You were never really buddy best friends, but you went to the same school and that was enough for him to invite you to all his parties and greet you as though you were a family friend.

“You know Bruce Wayne?” Jonathan whispered, but before you could answer Bruce approached you both.

“I haven’t seen you around in a while,” he said. “This is Mila and Stephanie. Say hi ladies.” They giggled and waved as he gave the back of your hand a little kiss. “Gorgeous girl. You should wear these outfits more often, you truly look stunning.”

You let him put his arm around your waist, enjoying the compliment.

“Oh, no,” you said modestly. “It’s just a dress.”

Jonathan chuckles. “Ah, don’t be like that, my darling. You look exquisite.”

You all but glared at him. Now he said you looked nice.

“What’s your name? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.” Bruce removed his arm from around your waist and held it out to shake Jonathan’s hand.

“Dr. Jonathan Crane,” he responded, a little tense. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wayne.”

“Jonathan’s actually doing some research into brain chemistry,” you said.

“Really? Tell me about it, Dr. Crane,” Bruce said, flashing a charming smile.

“I would,” Jonathan responded, turning to you, “but I don’t wanna bore my girl.”

“Your girl?” Bruce repeated, eyes glancing at you. “ You’re a lucky guy. Tell me how scored such a beauty like her?”

“Oh, it wasn’t that hard.” Jonathan reached around and put his hand on your shoulder. “She was practically falling all over me.”

That was true, but your jaw still clenched. “He likes to exaggerate,” you told Bruce with a little laugh.

“Well, if you ever want to change things up a little, I’m right here.” Bruce winked comically, leaving with his girls.

You could tell Bruce wasn’t joking. It sounded like a serious offer, only told in a joking format so as to not rile Jonathan up, as he was under the impression Jonathan was your actual boyfriend.

“You’re a jealous mongrel,” you told Jonathan once Bruce was out of sight. You both walked over to a more secluded corner. “Can’t imagine the idea of having to share, huh? Had to go and make up stories?”

Jonathan scowled. “He was shameless around you. Be grateful I warded him off,” he said arrogantly. “And it’s not like you guys would have worked out. With what your hobby and all.”

You didn’t say anything. Jonathan was jealous, huh? You know felt a sudden urge to go after Bruce, get a little drunk, and follow him back to his room. It’s not like he wasn’t handsome, he was the most eligible bachelor in the city. And you did like him. He was funny and nice. Plus, you two had known each other for a long while. What a fun trope, especially if it was making Jonathan mad.

“A good fuck needs to work out only for the night.” You shrugged.

“You—you can’t,” Jonathan sputtered out. “You’re here with me, not him.”

“I don’t see the problem. I got you in the door and now you don’t need me anymore. What’s wrong if I have some fun?”

“You can’t.”

You waved him off, though you were enjoying the way he was pouting.

“Brat,” you muttered under your breath.

“I’m not a brat.” He gave a dry chuckle. “Excuse me for wanting to spend the night with you.”

“Then why don’t you act like it?” You grinned devilishly. “Act like you want nothing more than to be here.”

Jonathan’s breathing hitched. Yours did too.

“You want it?”

“Don’t be scared.”

After you said that he didn’t hesitate to lean forward to give you a hard kiss, bringing his hand around the back of your head to push you both even closer together. He pulled away, his face still close to yours.

“Like that?”

“Yeah, like that,” you breathed out.

“I can give you more,” he whispered in your ear, his breath almost ticklish. “I know you want it. Been fantasizing about me all this time, hmm?”

You smiled coyly.

“For me to bend you over like the whore you are—”

“—Careful, Crane. I might just have to slap you.”

“Say it. Say you want me to fuck you. Fucking say it—”

You took a quick glance around the room to see if anyone was looking, which they thankfully weren’t, and then gave Jonathan a quick, harsh slap to the face.

The force of it made his neck turn, and his cheeks immediately turned red. He stayed silent for a moment, looking up at you through thick eyelashes, eyes narrowed in lust. It was all the conformation you needed to grab his chin, lift his face up, and give him another slap.

Before you could say anything else he pressed his lips up against you again, pressing you up against the wall passionately.

You backed away, and he furrowed his eyebrows, but all you did was grab his hand, feeling a frenzy of desire take over you. “Let’s go.”

You dragged him through the sea of people and out a backdoor. There were a couple of people walking around in the garden, but you managed to find a place secluded enough for you and Jonathan. The ground was grassy and soft, and no one was walking by. Even if they did, they’d have to be purposefully looking for you two to see you both behind the trees and flowers.

“Lay down,” you ordered.

He grinned but did as you asked. “Here? Outside? You’re such a naughty girl.”

“Do you wanna wait until we get home?”

“No,” he said, a little too eagerly. “I want it now.” He sat up and tugged on your dress, running his hand up your leg. “You’re so soft,” he murmured, planting a few wet kisses on your thigh.

You sighed contently, enjoying the affection he was giving you. This moment felt like a haze, like the world was just slipping by and you were stuck in time, a feeling that made you wonder if this was a dream or not. The evening sunset and dark sky weren’t helping either. It all felt perfect, too perfect.

“Mmm.” Jonathan reached up and hooked his fingers into your underwear. You snapped out of your trance and swatted his hand away.

“Getting a little touchy there, aren’t you?”

He smirked, looking up at you through thick eyelashes. “Just tryna please you, darling.”

You thought for a moment, then decided that you would let him eat you out.

“Alright then. Please me, Dr. Crane.”

Jonathan’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment at the name, savoring the way it rolled so delicately off your tongue. He lifted up your dress and pulled down your panties. You kicked them off to the side and rested your dominant leg on his shoulder.

He pushed his finger against your folds, making a humming sound. “You’re so wet, darling.”

He leaned forward to suck on your clit roughly.

You lightly gasped at the pleasant sensation, bucking your hips into his face accidentally. You had meant to show more control, but how could you when Jonathan was so hungrily lapping? burying his face into your pussy like he was starved, passionately alternating between licking and sucking.

“Oh, Jonathan.”

His fingers, which had been gripping your hips, moved upward. As he continued to press his tongue against your clit his finger gently prodded your entrance, making sure that you were ready. He pushed his finger, curling it slightly.

You stifled your moans, not wanting a passerby to catch you two in the act, but you were finding it difficult. He kept thrusting his finger in and out of you, adding another one just a minute later.

You threw your head back, eyes shut. You held his head for balance and relaxed, letting yourself go into a peaceful bliss. But then you felt Jonathan’s teeth nip your bud, biting into it deliberately, and you yelped.

Gripping his hair, you forced him to look at you. His mouth and nose were covered in your wetness, and his lips were curving up into a delightful smile.

“What was that for?”

He shrugged. “Mmm, I couldn’t help it, Ma’am.”

Instead of reprimanding him, you took the selfish route and pushed his face in between your legs, grinding onto his lips until you felt that familiar sense of elated happiness. You came all over him, your brain shutting off, or rather, getting overloaded at that euphoric, all-consuming release.

You let go of Jonathan’s hair, but he didn’t pull away. He licked up your cum, making your nerves feel overstimulated, but after he was satisfied, he stopped.

“You like that?” he asked.

“F-fuck, yeah.”

You grabbed your panties and put them back on, much to Jonathan’s dismay.

“Where are you going?” He got up, using his sleeve to wipe off the remaining juices on his face. You could see a tent, his cock poking out from under his pants.

“Home, of course. And you’re coming with me.”

He shook his head vehemently, wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing his hard cock against your body. “Let’s finish this here. I can’t wait any longer. Don’t make me wait.”

“If you’re a good boy, you’ll wait.”

“I can’t,” he bitched desperately, hurriedly pulling down his pants. “I won’t. I’ve waited too fucking long.”

You grabbed his cock through the fabric, squeezing it tight in his hands.

His face contorted to one of pleasure and pain. “Huh!”

“You think you can just get what you want? After you’ve such a dick? Oh, ‘she was practically falling all over me’. ‘Such a pretty little dress wasted on such an ugly little thing.’”

“C’mon, I didn’t mean it! You looked so beautiful, I was just trying to make you mad. Be nice . . . Pleaseee?”

You gripped it tighter and he whimpered. “See how pathetic you get the moment I show an ounce of authority? How you start to beg? If I say something you do it. Do you understand?” He didn’t say anything, his lips still parted in pain. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, yes!” he choked out.

You let go. “Good boy. Now go call your driver and ask him to pick us up ‘round back. Unless you want everyone to see your erection?”

You gestured to the front of the manor, where through the bushes you could still see people enjoying the party.

“No, no.” He called his driver, trying his best to cover his erection by interlocking his hands in front of his waist. “You’re a cruel goddess.”

While you two waited for the driver, you peppered sweet kisses along Jonathan’s neck, but when he arrived, you stopped, making him groan at the loss.

Throughout the drive back to your place, you ghosted your fingers over Jonathan’s lap, occasionally resting your hand on his length. Once the driver dropped you both off, you wasted no time in pushing him to your room.

He took off his clothes as did you, his white cock springing up furiously. It was just the right size, bigger and longer than average, almost so that you worried about having to fit it inside you.

His figure was lanky, but still muscled, just the way you thought it would be. You placed your fingers on his chest, twisting his nipples. He shuddered and took off his glasses, placing them on the nightstand. You shoved him down on your bed and he immediately spread his legs, giving you perfect access.

“Want me to suck you off, Jon?”

“Yes!” he said impatiently. “Just do it.”

You spanked his balls with your hand, carefully watching the way they bounced ever so slightly.

“Nghh! I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Do it whenever you feel like.”

Despite his words, you could see him waiting anxiously for you to touch him.

You did so, kissing the tip of his head and running your tongue through the slit, tasting the salty precum he was leaking. He hissed when you took his entire length. “Ah.”

You gripped your thumb so you wouldn’t gag and took him in all the way, hollowing out your cheeks. He thrusted up, deepthroating you for a hot second before he placed his hips firmly against the bed, not wanting to do anything that would upset you.

“So—so warm,” he stuttered out. “Can’t wait to feel your cunt, if your mouth is this fucking good.”

You would have said something, but your mouth was filled, busy bobbing up and down. He squirmed and moaned, shamelessly being as loud as he could. You could feel yourself getting wet again, but you controlled your urges for the sake of Jonathan.

He brushed your hair out of the way, scrunching up his face. “M’gonna — hnghhh — m’gonna come!”

That was when you pulled off of him.

It took a moment for him to realize what you were doing, but when he did, he wasted no time in complaining.

“No,” he mewled, tearing up. “I’ve been such a good boy. Such a good boy.”

“Have you?” You giggled.

“I need you, I need this,” he moaned. “I’ve wanted you so bad — that’s why I came to you, that’s why I came to you and no one else. I didn’t even need the sponsors that bad, I just wanted to see you. I . . . I’m in agony,” he continued dramatically.

“That’s sad.”

More tears ran down his cheek at your nonchalant words. He sniffled. “Please, stop that and just make me come!”

“Okay. I think you deserve it.”

But instead of putting your mouth back on him, you sunk onto his cock, slowly at first, so your pussy could get used to the size.

“Oh, fuck,” Jonathan cursed, placing one of his hands on your waist, his fingers digging into your skin. His other hand went up to play with your breasts, cupping and kneading them like they were pieces of dough.

You started bouncing, a string of incoherent words and moans leaving your mouth. Jonathan sat up and wrapped you in his arms, kissing down your neck as you moved.

“You feel so good,” you murmured, clenching around his cock. “I s-should have done this sooner.”

“Should’ve,” Jonathan agreed. “But — ah — we can always do this more often, yeah?”

Too blissed out to respond with words, you just nodded your head, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

It didn’t take long for both of you to come after that. His hot load spurted inside of you and you came again, but this time on his cock.

He collapsed, exhausted from the sensations.

You slowly got up, letting out a little wince as you felt his length leave you. You cuddled up beside him, caressing his cheek, wrapping you both in the blanket. He looked a little tired, and you didn’t blame him. So were you.

“You set my soul alight,” he said softly. “You always have.”

You wanted to ask him how deep his feelings ran, if this was just sex, or if it was something more, but when he fell asleep on your breast, you dropped the idea. He trusted you enough to let his guard down around you, and for now, that was more than enough.

The rest of the night was spent holding each other in your arms as you slept. When you woke up in the morning, he was still there, snoring softly like he was a peaceful angel.

You pulled him closer to you. “I’m never letting you go,” you murmured darkly. “Never.”

#Jonathan Crane #Jonathan Crane x reader #Jonathan Crane x y/n #Jonathan Crane x you #the dark knight trilogy #fanfiction #scarecrow x reader #scarecrow x y/n #scarecrow x you #cillian murphy #pinguwrites

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demonsword586 · 17 days

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I'ma be honest...I'm still not over the angel orgy thing. I need an explanation on how does that even work...Like do they do this since the beggining of time and God just allows every angel to make love with each other? Does he join them? And then blue-balls them?!

But then they can't finish?! It sounds like those balls aren't blue after all this time of edging,they're dark purple. And what happens if an angel does finish? Do they get...banned? Fallen? What...

Also how are the Seraphim even okay with this?! Aren't they like the biggest God simps? I mean I can understand Raphael cuz he's Raphael,but there's no way Gabriel could make love with someone willingly unless it's God.

Well at least we know that Michael and Lucifer probably had sex. Michael has a brother complex and it shows

So many questions....little answered...

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb lucifer #whb raphael #whb gabriel #whb michael #what in “hell” is bad?

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milaisreading · 1 year

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Good day~

Sorry for sending you my request during submission box, Tumblr glitched. So I resend this. As I said, I reeeeeally like your blue lock headcanons! Bullock manager is such an adorable idea. So if you don't mind, can I as you for some more headcanons about blue lock boys simping for their manager?

Have a great day, I wish you a lot of inspiration!~

Thanks for the request! No need to apologize, also sorry in advance I can usually only write HCs with scenarios, soo this might be long. Hope u enjoy it🩷

Pairing: Blue Lock x Reader

Warning ⚠️: none in particular tbh. Reader uses she/her here and manga spoilers Ig

⚽️Blue Lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️

Today was like any other at Blue Lock, you had Ego roasting everyone, (Y/n) and Anri trying to get him to eat something healthy and the boys doing their own thing with training. By now it was lunch time and the players along with (Y/n) were sent to eat as Anri and Ego went through some papers and plans for the upcoming trainings, as well as the match with the U-20 team.

'I am so hungry... Bachira kept me away from eating the whole morning. Why did he ask me to watch his dribbling even?!'

The girl blinked as she walked towards the cafeteria, cringing as she heard loud screaming from her friends.

"I am not dealing with this today. I think Ego-san has left some unattended yakisoba in the fridge." The girl said with a bittersweet smile. As much as they were annoying at times, she held the team close to her heart.

'They are good guys... but I am not dealing with their shenanigans today.'

Now the cafeteria wasn't like this the whole time, since 20 minutes ago it was very quiet and the boys were honestly minding their own business. Well that was until Nagi logged into his phone and saw a rather peculiar post. He raised his eyebrow in disgust as he read the caption on the post.

'Going to meet this cutie soon🩷'

"How did Oliver Aiku get a picture of our manager?" Nagi whispered to Reo, who was sitting next to him. The question caused his friend to spit out his drink and look at Nagi in shock and confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"He posted this... now that I look at the picture more, it could be the one when she went to help out during a JFU press conference."

"Give me that!"

Nagi let Reo take his phone, while he was seething on the inside.

'Now I regret not sneaking off that day. With my frame nobody would have gotten a picture of her.'

"This can't be for real... Oliver Aiku, the biggest player Japan witnessed!" Reo groaned, catching the attention of Aryu and the former Team Z members.

"What is it with Oliver Aiku?" Aryu asked, walking over to the table.

"Don't tell me you are afraid of playing against him." Chigiri teased.

"It's not that... just look." Reo groaned, showing Aryu the post. The boy stopped playing with the ends of his hair when he read the post, looking in horror at the pro-player's post.

"Not him of all people! We need to keep (Y/n) as far away as possible! He is too ugly to be in her presence. "

"I know! But how?"

"This is such a hassle... can I just hit him in the head with the ball or something?"

"What is this about (Y/n)? And what does Aiku have to do with her?" Baro questioned, the cafeteria now completely silent when they mentioned the girl's name.

"Oliver Aiku seems to have some interest in her. Look." Aryu sighed, giving Baro the phone. The long haired boy sat down as what was left of Team Z approached them.

"What do you mean? How does he even know about her?" Bachira pouted, while Kunigami and Gagamaru were on high alert.

"This isn't good, we can't let that bastard near her." Isagi added as Chigiri nodded his head.

"Especially with his history with women... Yeah, (Y/n) is way better off not knowing him." Otoya added, a little annoyed that the pro-player knew of their manager.

"So what's the plan? It's not like all of us can stay around her all the time."

"Are we fighting?" Kurona and Karasu came, curious as to what they are supposed to do.

"We can't really do that. There will be a lot of cameras, and with Oliver Aiku being as popular as he is, they will follow every move." Yukimiya said, adjusting his glasses as the rest groaned. Rin kept quiet as he searched for the said post to see it with his own eyes, and sure enough it was there. What made it worse in Rin's eyes was that even his own brother, Itoshi Sae liked it. That pretty much set a blaze of anger off and Rin got up from his seat.

"Well that's the only option we have. Some of us will be on the bench or be called for a switch. We need to keep that guy away from (Y/n)." Rin said to the group, who all nodded their heads.

"Alright then! It's settled, we are doing our best to win against the U-20 and keep Aiku away." Isagi said after he finally calmed Bachira down.

"Of course. Can you imagine that asshole near (Y/n)?" Baro tsked, not liking that image in the slightest.

"Right! (Y/n) is so sweet and kind, Aiku is totally not for her." Aryu sighed as the others nodded along.

"Right, she is suited for someone like me." Otoya added suddenly, earning glares from his fellow teammates.

"Hell no! (Y/n) doesn't even know you that well! I am more her type, she is so calm and collected, perfect for me!" Bachira said, sending a warning glare to the white/green-haired boy.

"Her type? Bachira you are rough and wild, there is no way (Y/n) will want to be with you. Me on the other hand, I am the perfect gentleman." Chigiri said smugly. Kunigami rolled his eyes at the redhead's comment along with Gagamaru.

"Then I am the perfect candidate, also physically I am superior too, who else will protect her when it's necessary."

"Now when we talk about physique, I am far superior than you are. My queen would be much happier with me." Baro said, getting into Kunigami's face.

"Well, (Y/n) might not be into muscles. Besides, with the way she is always so kind and sweet to me, I am sure I am winning."

Isagi's comment irritated Rin and the younger Itoshi got into his face now.

"You winning next to me? We all know the best striker wins here, and that is me. Keep your hands off of her."

"You all are acting as if I am not in the clear win here, after all I am the richest. I could offer (Y/n) anything her heart desires." Reo added with a pout as Nagi shook his head.

"I think she would prefere a calm and quiet life. So I am the ideal partner there, you lose."

"Nagi, shut up!"

"I think (Y/n) and I would be a good match too. She looks happy when talking to me." Gagamaru commented while his face turned red.

"That's in her glamorous nature, Gagamaru." Aryu added while sighing.

By now the whole cafeteria was in total chaos, a mix of arguments over who the better match for (Y/n) was or singing praises about the girl.

Outside, (Y/n) and Hiori were playing rock, paper, scissors on who will yell at them to stop.

"What even started the argument?" (Y/n) asked, sighing at her loss as the boy shook his head.

"I don't know. I was practicing my dribbling and then came to you." Hiori said, blushing a little at the closeness.

'She smells really sweet today~'

As the day of the U-20 and Blue Lock 11 match approached, (Y/n) grew more and more anxious, hoping the boys will be able to handle the pressure. The whole of Japan was watching and she did her best to be on the call as soon as one of her friends needed help. Barely paying attention to anyone outside of her team, (Y/n) never noticed how every time Aiku tried to approach her or how one of the boys, usually Baro or Kunigami would whisk her away or glare at the player.

#blue lock #blue lock anime #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #isagi yoichi #bachira meguru #blue lock kunigami #chigiri hyoma #gin gagamaru #rin itoshi #blue lock barou #reo mikage #nagi seishiro #bllk aryu #blue lock requests #idek

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mantizimus · 11 months

Note

Imagine Twisted Wonderland, where NRC has a prom. Everyone wants to and does invite the Reader, but she only picks one of them. They can be your favorite characters, as I simp for all of them aside from Ace, Ortho (obvi), and Grim (obvi). How would they react? What would they wear? Would there be a super romantic moment or would there be an adorable load of awkwardness?

Thank you so much for responding to my post. I would write this myself, but I'm so busy and you have great writing 🫶

Hello, Blues. I chose 4 random characters for this. Hope you enjoy it! Also you're welcome. And thanks for compliment!

Being asked for prom

Riddle Rosehearts

A little surprised by your choice, but doesn't complain.

Tries to look as presentable as possible.

Convince Trey and Cater to help him prepare for prom and not embarrass himself.

Review the list of rules for prom to make sure he's doing it right.

Comes to the prom dressed in a red suit.

Inviting you to dance, blushes slightly and looks away.

When declared as a prom king, Riddle is a little taken aback, but happy about this outcome.

From his point of view, the whole event was just perfect.

Jamil Viper

When you asked him for prom, he was very pleasantly surprised.

Thought you'd choose someone else.

Your choice has accidentally put him in conflict. On the one hand, he is not too eager to stand out from the crowd. On the other hand, he wants you to have a good time.

However, he does not decline your invitation.

Asks Kalim for some tips to make graduation a success.

Chooses a black and red three-piece suit for clothing.

At the prom, Jamil is very nervous, but hides it.

Hearing that he is the prom king, he doesn't believe his ears.

When the event ended, he mentally noticed that everything went much better than he feared.

Cater Diamond

Expected you to choose him.

Prepares for prom in full.

Romantic to the point of meticulousness.

He's seen such thing on TV a few times, so it won't be hard for him to look stunning.

Cater will wear either a red-orange three-piece suit or a tuxedo with all the necessary attributes.

Expect truckloads of flirting and compliments from him.

The reaction to the fact that he was chosen as the prom king is delight with notes of complacency. However, at the same time, he is surprised by this, as he thought it would be someone else.

Prom will forever remain in his memory as one of the best events in his life.

Leona Kingscholar

Your decision to go to prom with him came as a surprise to him.

Just like Jamil he believed that you'll choose someone else.

Leona will ask Falena about what his prom was like so that he has a clear idea of what to do and how to look.

Ask for advice from Ruggie or Jack. To all the jokes from the first, he calmly replies that he doesn't want to disappoint you.

Chooses a yellow jacket with a white shirt, black trousers and a bow tie.

Very romantic at the ball, releasing many compliments in your address.

Was pleasantly surprised by the fact that it was he who became the prom king.

During the coronation will kiss you on the lips.

He feels that the time spent on preparation was worth it.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #cater diamond #cater diamond x reader #leona kingscholar #leona kingsholar x reader

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kasagia · 8 months

Text

Second Waltz

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/General Kirigan/The Darkling x fem! inferni! reader Summary: For the Winter Fete, you were supposed to waltz with your friend the tidemaker and at the same time use your Grishas' power to entertain the king, queen and all the other self-righteous nobles. In your wildest dreams, you wouldn't have thought you'd end up dancing with General Kirigan... Nonsense from me: So I saw the post of @angellovelyasfck and got inspired... Warning(s): Darkling is a simp for reader; nobody knows why; he is so in love; matching kefta; author have no idea about dancing, but try to write about it; the reader is afraid of him but drawn to him, like a moth to the fire; Aleksander is a mastermind; Words count: 3,2k Taglist: @aoi-targaryen @morrigan-crowmwell ~•♤♤♤•~ Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~

You looked like a real lady.

If Grishas could be ladies-in-waiting, be respected in Ravka, and have a position of nobility, then women would probably wear such dresses.

You didn't like parties organised by the royal family… well… except for the possibility of eating sweets prepared by royal chefs. It was the only thing that made up for the fact that you and the other Grishas were entertaining the king and his people.

Your powers were displayed as an attraction, a means of entertainment, and while some of you enjoyed the attention they were receiving at the time, others equally abhorred the idea of entertaining Otkazat'sya.

The winter fete was supposed to be like any other for you. You'll put on your festive kefta, sip a sneak peek of champagne, and munch on sweets with your friends.

But it wasn't supposed to be. Because someone figured out that the inferni and the tidemaker will waltz this year using their powers at the same time. Something about a poetic combination of opposites that unite in dance.

Because of this, you stood in the Grand Palace ballroom, looking anxiously around the room as you straightened your dress.

"Nervous?" a soft voice came from behind you. You turned around, sighing in relief, when you saw Genya.

"A little." you admit, calming down as she runs her hand through your hair and smooths the strands of your hair that have managed to come out of the updo she made for you. "I'm a soldier, not a dancer or lady."

Genya giggles. "In this dress, many would disagree with you. You look beautiful even without my touch-ups."

You are blushing. She made sure that you looked… just not like you tonight.

Genya has outdone herself. The dress was blue, sleeveless and strapless, and it went all the way down to the floor. In combination with a blue coat imitating an inferni kefta and a golden belt engraved with the symbol of the Second Army, you looked phenomenal.

Like a Grishas' princess...

"You're only saying this, because you are the one who made that dress."

"Well, it's very obvious." she teases you and taps you lightly on the shoulder. You both giggle, amused.

Suddenly, a ball of fire flashes between you. It misses your head by only a few inches. You wrinkle your nose and send the inferni who shot you a fireball an angry glare. Nobody does anything about it, the fire show continues as if nothing happened.

"What was that?" Genya asks, seeing your exchange of glances with the woman.

"Inferni affairs. Warkov is sent to go through the fold again. She resents that I haven't been there yet, and she's already gone four times. It's not my fault that the general has an aversion to me for some reason, and instead of using my powers in a good way, I have to do… this." you say in disgust, pointing at the dress. You clench your fists at your sides. "I can do more, Genya. I could help our people in fighting or in a battle… but instead, I'm stuck in this damn palace making playthings for the nobility." you add more quietly, making sure only she can hear you.

Genya sighs, looking at you. She strokes your cheek with her thumb, where you have a bit of icing from the cookie you ate earlier.

"I know what you mean. Trust me." you give her a sad look and squeeze her hand. She gives you a small smile. " But believe me… the general has his reasons for keeping you here." before you can say anything to respond or even ask what she means, you see her waving her hand, calling someone. David joins you, smiling at you two. You watch with interest as he steals glances at Genya. "Speaking of the general… there's been a slight change of plans."

"What? What do you mean?" you ask, confused, as you look from one to the other. You tense up at the mere mention of the general.

Suddenly the blue of your dress gives way to a deep, terrifying black. Only General Kirigan could wear this colour, as the only Shadow summoner, Darkling, descended from the Black Heretic. Panicked, you shift your gaze between Genya and David, hoping that this sudden change of colour won't bring you anyone's attention.

"Nya, Dav… it's black. Why did you turn it into black?" you become more and more uneasy when people around you notice the colour you wear.

It's official. General Kirigan will throw you to the volcras for such a disrespectful act.

"Your tidemaker friend was sent on... an important mission." David explains the sudden change of plans.

"What? But we were supposed to dance..." you say, surprised, but Genya cuts you off before you start panicking more about the absence of your friend, with whom you've been practicing this damn waltz and fire and water choreography for months.

"You will dance with the general."

After the red-haired girl utters this sentence, there is a long silence on your part, interrupted by the sounds of other inferni summoning fire. You freeze, completely shocked, refusing to believe that Genya meant what she said. It will be a pure disaster.

"No." you say, shaking your head.

Waltzing with a black general who, for some reason, doesn't recognise your presence in his army wasn't on your to-do list. Not today or ever. You feared this man more than anyone. And whatever you did to him to make him disapprove of your existence and the amount of power that lies dormant within you, you didn't want to be near him to test him even more and risk making him angry.

"Y/N." a woman snaps you out of your thoughts.

"Genya, please no. He hates me. I don't know why, but because of him, I can't do anything useful with my power. I'll step on his toes, and he'll hate me even more. He would kick me out of the Little Palace, and our evenings in the palace kitchen and secret chocolate snacking would be over."

"You eat chocolate without me?" asks a surprised and hurt David, oblivious to the growing panic and desperation inside of you. You can't dance with the general. This will end terribly.

"I'm going with you to stargaze outside the palace grounds. There's one one, David. Which doesn't change the fact that my death is imminent and none of you want to help me."

"For the love of the saints, Y/N, general won't kill you. It is just a dance. Put a smile on your face and try your best, I know you can do it and control yourself."

"What if I set him on fire? Saints, they will hang me for killing the only living Darkling."

"You were right; she is worse than me." David whispers, not quite subtly, to Genya while you're still panicking. You stop and look at him indignantly before answering in complete seriousness.

"I've heard that."

"Good. Now don't panic, the general is coming here." Genya takes David's arm and they run away from you, both discussing something lively.

However, before your brain processes the information and reacts defensively, by running away from where you are standing (preferably to the palace kitchen), you feel his presence behind you.

"Miss Y/L/N." you shiver when you hear his deep voice behind you.

"General." you reply in an unemotional military tone and turn to him after you swallow and calm down a bit.

"I see you already know about... a little change of plans." he says, nodding at your outfit. Only now are you painfully aware that you are facing the Black General, wearing his colors. May the saints receive your poor soul. "Genya and David did wonderful work." he adds. You have a bit of trouble swallowing and keeping your voice steady, but you finally manage to reassure yourself for a moment that you can at least pretend to be cool to the general.

"I... thank you, general... that's all their work." you say, trying to justify your appearance—wearing his colours when he's the only one who can wear them. However... he doesn't seem angry or crazy... and if you were dumber, you'd think he appreciates how good you look in black.

His dark eyes watch you carefully from top to bottom. You feel strange under his watchful gaze, unable to read any emotion from his face. He lingers a little longer on your body before meeting your eyes again.

"Shall we?" he asks, offering you his arm like a true gentleman. You dare not refuse him, so you nod your head and try to control the trembling of your hands as you slip your hand into the crook of his elbow. He leads you both further into the centre of the ballroom. You may notice that the infernis' show is about to end. "You will do everything as in rehearsals. I'll adjust my shadows to your fire to make it look as coherent as possible."

"Yes, general." you nod to him, having no idea how he wants to combine your fire and his shadows. But you have other problems on your mind now.

Like the hateful glare from Warkov. She's brave enough to 'accidentally' send another small fireball your way. Only your quick reflexes keep you from getting burned. The general looks at you, intrigued. But you pay no attention to him, too busy fighting to look at the inferni who hates you. The Darkling notices this and looks at the woman carefully. And if you looked at him, you'd see him nod to Ivan in Warkov's direction with a clear sign of investigating the matter between the two of you.

Inferni show ends. Your heart is beating like crazy with stress, knowing that now you will have to dance with the general. The darkling gives you a half-smile at your nervousness and grabs your hand as you both head to the center. He stands in front of you and, without letting go of your hand, says:

"We can find a light in the darkness… but not only from the sun or moon. But from something that we have around us that is as dangerous and unpredictable as it is beautiful and mesmerizing. Light isn't the only thing that dispels darkness. It is also the fire."

And with this, he joined hands, plunging the ballroom into complete darkness. The orchestra begins to play the melody you know, to which you have spent bloody hours learning the steps and memorising the moments when you are supposed to summon fire.

Only this time, it's not just going through the steps. No. This time, you feel something. Strange electricity as the general puts his hand on your waist and grabs your hand, pulling you closer than necessary. You begin to move around the room.

You light up the two of you with your fire, making you the only people visible in the dark room. And for some strange reason, you can't take your eyes off the general's dark irises, which stare at you as if they want to pierce your soul. His eyes glow from the flames of fire you let out, making it even harder to look away from him.

At one point, he takes away his shadows. The two of you are in full view, as is the crowd around you, but all you can look at is each other. His shadows travel with your fire, enhancing its brilliance.

You don't even notice when you start making your own modifications to the fire choreography, letting the balls and flames dance around the tiny shadows the general casts. You feel like all you can think about is a man holding you in his arms and watching you intently as if you were the only person in the whole world.

At one point, you are so overwhelmed by his gaze that you look away from him to the fire that is circling around you. You pull away from him slightly, so you don't rub against each other with every stop. You wonder why the general trusts you with enough power to dance with you so close to the fire but won't let you leave the walls of the Little Palace.

His hand on your waist pushes you gently back towards him, snapping you out of your thoughts. You turn your surprised look towards him.

"I don't bite, little flame… not unasked." he takes the opportunity to whisper in your ear. It takes your breath away for a moment. You wonder what the hell happened to him.

For the first time, you enjoy the hot fire around you… at least it's a way to explain to people why you blush lightly in his arms.

He spins you around, and as you land in his arms again, you notice that the colour of his kefta has changed with the heat of your fire. The black threads that decorate his kefta turn red. Your jaw would drop if you were alone.

You feel his hands on you more and more, despite how much material you have on you. The intensity of his gaze warms you more than the flames that dance with you around the two of you.

You don't know why his presence affects you so much. You don't know where the fear you felt before has gone. All you can do is let him guide you as he holds you securely in his arms and draws you close to him. Looking into his dark eyes makes all thoughts in your head disappear. It's just you and him.

And only the saints know how you manage to keep summoning fire without burning the two of you.

To your relief, the waltz comes to an end. However, instead of letting go of your waist and grabbing your hand to turn you around, Kirgan lets go of your hand. He lifts you with one arm around your waist and spins you around, keeping you close to him.

You melt in his arms. If you didn't know what it was about the attention he gave you before, you were completely lost now, feeling his strong muscles all around you. Your heart was beating like wildfire, and your cheeks were even hotter.

And a careful observer would have noticed how your fire got fed off by the general's sudden movement. And Kirigan was a very careful observer. So he gave you a quick, cheeky, smug smirk.

Your behaviour did not escape Genya and Fedyor. They looked at each other knowingly and whispered something conspiratorially to each other before Ivan hushed them.

Kirigan has put you safely on the ground. Flames and shadows disappeared around you. People started clapping. You were about to run from the middle of the room when a strong grip on your hand stopped you. The general leaned over and kissed your hand, not taking his eyes from you for even a moment.

You hold your breath and blush even more. His beard gently tickles your hand. The general's lips gently caress your skin, and you can't help but imagine how they would feel somewhere else...

The general reluctantly releases your hand and strokes it with his thumb. "I'm looking forward to the next dance, little flame." he whispers, so only you can hear him.

He releases your hand and walks away from you. You suddenly miss his closeness and the intoxicating scent of his perfume… but you're not distracted enough to sneak out of the ballroom at the first chance you get.

Your hand burns pleasantly where his mouth was a moment ago. And for the first time since you arrived at the Little Palace, you're looking forward to the next winter fete.

You went to the balcony to get some rest. The cool night air hits your skin. You lean against the railing and stare at the ground in front of you. You have a perfect view of the Little Palace from here.

You close your eyes and enjoy the night air. Suddenly, you feel a presence behind you. And loud footsteps make you realize that the general is specifically alerting you to his presence. You know if he wanted to, he'd sneak up on you silently.

You turn around and lean against the railing. "General." your soft whisper echoes across the balcony so clearly that the loud music doesn't prevent him from hearing you.

"Captain Y/L/N." he replies, taking a step towards you. He is standing next to you, looking at the terrain in front of you. "You are a good dancer." he praises you without looking at you.

"Thank you, General, but you were the one who mainly led our dance."

"Then let me appreciate that you never stepped on my toes. Believe me, it's a great feat; I've danced too many times not to know it." you can't help but giggle at his words. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him staring at you. He turns to you and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. "The way you manipulate fire... how you guide it, create shapes, and intensify the flame at will... few can do what you do. Rarely do I see such self-awareness and composure in an Inferni."

"However, I am not fit enough to use my powers anywhere other than within the walls of the Palace." you say before you can think it over. You're biting your tongue too late. Now all you can do is watch him, hoping he won't punish you for making such a bold accusation against him.

"You must forgive me, little flame… it's all my selfishness." he says tenderly, completely confusing you.

"What?"

"Let me show you." he says, and before you can ask anything else, he leans in and kisses you.

His hand on your cheek and lips, which caresses yours so tenderly, warms you better than any fire you could summon. You lean into his touch and feel yourself melting with every tactical, combined movement of his mouth and hand. You could control the flames… but he could do much more than just control the shadows. He played you perfectly.

At the moment, you were enjoying it more than you were worried.

Much to your displeasure, he moved away from you. He stroked your cheek with his thumb and whispered. "I can't wait to dance with you again." he licked his lips, looking at your own. His gaze came back to your eyes. "You look lovely in black, by the way." he adds, before wishing you good night and walking away like nothing happened.

Of course, before he left the balcony door, he gave you one last mischievous look. And standing there, warm from his kiss alone, with red cheeks and tingling lips, you knew he did it on purpose... that he made you want more.

The next day, you are forced to wear your blue kefta again. You would never think that wearing his colours would be so pleasant. Neither that the inferni who hated you and rebelled other people against you will be permanently moved to Kribirsk... or that you'll wake up in a room filled with your favourite flowers and an invitation to dinner with the general.

Maybe the waltzes weren't so bad after all.

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petrichor-idyllic · 11 months

Note

Can u do Minho x reader where reader is just gawking at minhos arms and he catches her 🤭 it can be a gender neutral reader with spice ☝🏽

Alright, alright, I know, I have been very MIA, very sorry, life is a lot atm.

But this request is an easy one, so I'm tryna get through the easy ones. (Totally not cause I'm procrastinating a massive request and have fallen back into my OBX phase or anything shhh)

BEST FEATURE

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above. GN! Reader x Minho. Takes place before the arrival of Thomas.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, you're a simp, sorry, spice.

You like to pretend that you're a level headed and controlled person. That things such as desire or general human nature don't faze you and you're focused on work and helping around the Glade.

And, for the most part - that is completely believable.

Mainly because Minho is always out in the Maze. Thank God.

Because every time you guys are in the same room, you can't take your eyes off of him. His shoulders, his back, his weirdly perfect hair, that stupid blue shirt that just clings to him in the best way- and his arms.

(Something you and a specific future Greenie and ex-WCKD member would have in common.)

His arms.

His fucking arms, man.

You just can't help yourself. He walks back into the Glade every day, sweaty and dishevelled, his blue shirt sleeves rolled up as he casually glances at you as he walks past. Sometimes, you swear he walks past you on purpose .

Newt suspects you purposely hang around the Map Room so he has to.

It's been months, and you just can't seem to force yourself to get over it. You've tried, but Minho is the hottest guy in the Glade.

You're fucked, basically.

That is no different when it comes to Bonfire night. A new Greenie pops up, every gets hammered, Gally gets in a fight, Alby looks like he's gonna have a stroke.

But it's all in good fun.

Minho doesn't normally join in the festivities. He's a very stressed individual. Sometimes, you think about attempting to convince him to join in so he can let off some steam, but you don't.

I mean, most of your thoughts are about him letting off some steam. If you get what I mean.

But, this specific night, somehow, Newt, the absolute Lord and saviour he is, has managed to convince Minho to play a game of beer pong.

Well, not beer pong, but "Gally's suspicious special brew pong" is a bit of a mouthful.

You sit at the sides with a couple of boys, watching Minho laugh along as he throws a ball (a screwed up piece of tinfoil) into a cup across the table. Cheers break out in his success, but you just stare.

Minho's arms flex under his shirt, the curve of his upper arm visible through his shirt, his forearm tenses as he goes to throw the ball agsin you swear you can see the blood pumping veins from here.

"You're drooling, mate." You're snapped back to reality as you look at Newt, who passes you a drink.

"Huh?" You catch on. "What? No - I'm not." You attempt to lie, but the heat rising through your face is a bit of a hint.

"Yeah - you are. As always."

"What? What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know what it means." You look away in respond, groaning as you rub your face with your hands.

"Shut up."

Newt snorts at this, rubbing your back with a mocking "There, there."

You want to punch him.

"Yo, (Y/N)!" You look up, heat rising in your face as Minho shouts you. "Ben just bailed on us, you wanna take his place?"

You open your mouth to speak, but your words catch in your throat, causing Newt to cringe in second hand embarrassment.

"Jesus Christ," he mumbles. "Yeah! They'd love to join." He nudges you. "Right?"

You clearly your throat. "Uh, yeah? Yeah."

Minho chuckles at this. "Come on, then."

You look at Newt again, as he nods his head to go join. Awkwardly, you stand up, walking over to join Minho's team.

"You know how to play?" He asks you.

"Uh, yeah- yeah, I know how to play." You attempt to sound confident.

"Cool - I should shuckin' hope so, you've been watching like a hawk." Oh God, he noticed. He noticed you staring. Hopefully, you can play it off as just being interested in the game.

"Y-yeah. Looked like you guys were having fun."

Please don't notice. Please don't notice. Please don't notice.

Please.

Minho's eyes flicker down you, almost like he's examining you, but also like he's drinking in your appearance, a slight smirk playing on his lips before he looks you in the eyes again. "Uh, huh."

Oh, God.

You immediately look away as another Glader passes you the ball for your turn. You miss, instantly as your body feels flushed, and then the game continues.

This goes on for quite some time.

You would think that any normal person would look away, now. I mean, Minho has noticed and Newt is undoubtedly going to bully you for it later. But, you are not that person, and you just can't help yourself.

Up close and personal, Minho looks like a God carved him out of stone. And when it's his turn, your eyes fall on his arms.

Because of course they do.

The way he rolls his sleeves up further, his muscles tensing, his veins flexing as you follow them down his forearms and down the back of his strong hands. You're seeing stars and your brain feels fuzzy.

"You good?" Minho's voice snaps you back to reality once again. Your eyes flicker to his face, his eyes narrowing as a smirk creeps across his face.

"Yep."

"You were staring."

"No, I wasn't." You say a bit too quickly, making his smirk turn into a grin.

"You sure about that? Positive you were just, checking me out?"

You blink at him, your face rising in heat.

"Yo," Clint snorts, having been also playing the game. "You were perving on Minho?" He drapes an arm over your shoulder, clearly drunk, but the implication making you more flustered.

"What? N-no. No. I wasn't."

"Mhm - I'm sure he doesn't mind." Clint snorts.

"Yeah, I don't mind." Minho agrees, grinning.

"I wasn't!" You attempt to defend yourself. "Ugh, shuck this." You grow irritated, shoving Clint's arm off. "I've had enough of this game."

You say, starting to walk away.

"What?" Minho's smile drops as he shouts after you. "We were just messing around! (Y/N)!" He huffs, dropping his head, watching you walk away. "Shuck's sake." He mumbles under his breath.

Newt, who has been watching the whole thing, stands from his seat and walks over. "Go on."

"What?" Minho asks.

"Go after them. I'll take your spot."

"Dude- why would I-?"

"Shut up, shank - you know you're just as bad."

Minho freezes at this, blinking at Newt.

Well, he's not wrong.

Minho has been listing after you for about just as long as you have him. And Newt has more social awareness skills than the both of you combined.

Minho huffs, but he turns on his heels, following after you, jogging to catch up as you make your way to the Deadheads.

"Yo! Hey! Wait up!" He says, slowing to a walk.

"Why? So, you can bully me again because you thought I was checking you out?" You snarl, mainly out of pure embarrassment.

"...But you were checking me out."

"No-"

"Yes."

"Fine! Whatever!" You throw your hands up in frustration. "I was checking you out! Big shuckin' deal! I can't help it, okay?"

Minho blinks, not expecting the sudden out burst. "Okay."

"Okay? Cool, okay? It's not my fault that you're hot, okay? A-and it's not fair that you look that good! All the time! Like, how is that fair? And how the fuck is your hair always flawless? You run for miles everyday - and somehow, you look like you've escaped Vogue! And your arms... how am I meant to even pretend to cope, you prick?"

Minho blankly stands there. "You done?"

You blink at him. "Yeah, I think so."

Minho slowly nods, stepping towards you as you both stand near the edge of the Deadheads, the drama of the Bonfire a now distant memory as he stands in front of you. He's so close and tall and generally intimidating in a way you shouldn't find attractive.

"So, you like my arms, then?" Minho acts, clearly enjoying the not needed ego boost. All you can do is blankly look at him.

What the hell is happening here?

"Do you?" You nod in response, slowly and unsure. "Okay, you can touch them, if you want?"

Your brain has melted and burnt. "...What?"

Minho huffs, simply grabbing your hand and putting it on his arm. You eyelids flutter, swapping between his face and his arm. "Don't be scared." He murmers.

Slowly, you drag your fingers down the fabric of his sun faded blue button up over his bicep, feeling the muscle and the curves of his left arm, tracing delicate shapes over the material. You move further down, passing the threshold where the fabric stops and the bare skin of his forearm starts.

To your surprise, Minho's breath hitches slightly at the contact. This is the first time you've ever touched him, and even he didn't expect the feeling to send chills down his spine and goosebumps dance on his skin. Your palm contacts with his forearm, rubbing down to his hand, feeling the visible veins as he creeps closer to you.

Your eyes go from his arm to his face, flickering to his lips as he stands directly in front of you. He becomes bold, raising his arm, your hand still loosely around his wrist as he touches your cheek. Slowly, he closes the gap.

Your chest feels like it's about to explode as his lips comnect with yours. He breaks the kiss, trying to figure out your reaction, but when you kiss him again, he takes the hint.

He's slightly taken aback from the passion and the heat, humming against your lips unintentionally as he kisses back. You're letting out the months of tension you've been feeling, your hands coming around his shoulders, feeling the muscles and caressing the tops of his arms as he backs you into a tree.

You gasp, your back hitting the back as he pushes his body against, his hands grasping at your sides. It seems that the kiss gave him all the answers he needed. His hands move down before slipping under your shirt and brushing at your bare skin - almost like he's becoming desperate for direct contact.

Pushing yourself forward, you can already feel Minho through his trousers, the kiss already getting him worked up.

For a second, you genuinely consider just letting him take you then and there when Newt clears his throat.

You both snap in the direction of the blond boy. Minho's chest rises and falls as you look away, using Minho's shoulder to hide yourself from your friend.

"As much as I hate to interrupt - but let's be real, this has been a long time coming, the others want you back at the game because apparently I have klunky aim." Newt shoves his hands in his pockets, casually rocking on his heels.

"Are you serious, right now?" Minho asks as you pant into his shoulder, clearly able to maintain his composure better than you.

"Yeah." Newt responds. "And I don't think Alby will be happy if he finds his favourite Runner fooling around in public."

Minho looks at him, before dropping his head. "Alright, give me a second."

"What? Need a moment to calm down?" Newt teases.

"Shut your shank mouth."

Even you can't help but chuckle at this as Minho starts to grin before sighing and stepping back. "I'll uh, I'll catch you later, maybe?"

A half-smile creeps across your face and you nod, your heart banging against your ribcage. "Yeah - yeah, sounds good."

"Good that." He slowly steps back, smiling at you as he walks over to Newt.

"You good?" Newt snickers at his friend. "Sure you can walk straight so lightheaded? I mean, lack of blood to the brain is a bad thing. Especially when-"

"Shut the shuck up, Newt."

Ahhhh I'm back. Kinda.

Don't bet on it.

But anyway, I've actually written something for the first time in weeks.

Hope y'all enjoy :))

#🌿 petri writes #🌿 petri writes tmr #🍃 petri tmr #🌿 petri tmr minho #tmr fanfiction #tmr imagines #tmr minho #minho the maze runner #minho tmr #minho maze runner #the maze runner #minho tmr x reader

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holdmytesseract · 8 months

Note

Ooooo, for the requests…Jonathan Pine the morning after the wedding being in love with reader, his new spouse, and just being so deeply in love and happy?🥹🥹

Afterglow

Jonathan Pine x fem!Reader

Summary: It's the morning after yours and Jonathan's wedding, and the both of you are bathing in the afterglow - and the deep love you share.

Warnings: fluuuuff! slightly suggestive smut, lovebirds being in love

Word Count: 920

a/n: We're kicking off the requests with this fluff ball! 🥰 I loved writing this and I hope you all enjoy it. Especially you, bestie @smolvenger ! 🧡

P.S. I hope you don't mind that it's a bit short...

Tagging: @lulubelle814 @km-ffluv @eleniblue @muddyorbsblr @loz-3 @vbecker10 @jennyggggrrr @mochie85 @chantsdemarins @peaches1958 @multifandom-worlds @fictive-sl0th @lovingchoices14 @simping-for-marvel @stupidthoughtsinwriting @vanilla-daydreaming @lou12346789 @lady-rose-moon @evelyn-kingsley @the-princess-of-loki @acefeather2002

•☆° Masterlist °☆•

Jonathan blinked his eyes slowly open; oceanic blue eyes meeting the creme coloured ceiling of the small, cosy cottage. A soft, pleasantly warm breeze rustled the white satin curtains of the opened French doors. Goosebumps spread over his naked torso.

Blinking, he tried to adjust to the brightness in the room; caused by the strong rays of the Egyptian sun. Once his brain had woken fully up as well, all the events of the past day and night flooded his mind. The wedding. His wedding. He couldn't help but smile; immediately turning his head to the right. His eyes landed on you.

His wife.

Jonathan smiled even more. It still sounded so unrealistic and yet... He felt for the wedding band on his ring finger on the left hand... It was true.

Unlike Jonathan, you were fast asleep. Eyes closed shut tightly; breathing deep and even. You were laying on your stomach; bare back on full display. Your hands were buried underneath the soft pillow to support your head, while your lower half was covered underneath the thin blanket. It reached the dip of your lower back and therefore only just covered the curve of your bottom; teasing Jonathan.

A few strands of hair had fallen into your face and your cheek was slightly squished by the pillow - and yet you were the most beautiful woman Jonathan had ever laid his eyes upon. The man couldn't help himself but to shamelessly look; keeping his oceanic blues directed on you and just watching you sleep. He'd do that for the rest of his life. That much was certain.

Jonathan didn't know how long he was just admiring your stunning beauty. Seconds, minutes, hours?

At some point, his heart was beating so rapidly against his ribcage; screaming at him to just touch the woman he loved. So, he did.

Slowly inching closer towards your body, he laid on his side and propped his elbow up to support his head. With a sweet smile, Jonathan reached for your face, in order to tuck the loose strands back behind your ear. Then he let his fingertips wander gently over your neck, up to your shoulders and down your entire back; grazing your soft, warm skin slightly.

You stirred a bit, but kept on sleeping, so he repeated the loving movement of his hand. Sometime on the way, the night manager lost his caution, and suddenly he was using his whole palm to caress your skin. Jonathan just couldn't help it. You were like a temple to him. Worthy to be worshipped.

Jonathan's touch caused you to wake up at some point, of course. Stirring awake, you blinked your eyes open - and the first thing you saw was your husband's handsome face. A soft smile was on his lips, as his oceanic blues looked into yours so full of love and adoration. Eyebrows slightly slanting, he inched even closer; hand stilling on your lower back.

"Good morning, beautiful," Jonathan whispered in his rough, but yet gentle morning voice.

His flirtatious words caused your heart to beat immediately faster. You couldn't help but smile as well. "A very good morning, indeed." You whispered back; biting your lip, before you leaned forward to press a soft kiss on his awaiting lips.

"Did you sleep well?" He asked you then; his thumb starting to caress the skin on your lower back. You nodded; still smiling. "Heavenly. And you?" A soft, breathless laugh escaped his lips. "I think I've never slept better." You giggled and placed a hand on the centre of his chest; fingers playing with the fine hair located there.

After a while of pleasant silence, you spoke up again, when you saw the wedding band on your finger twinkling in the morning sun. "Can you believe this? We are married now...." Jonathan shook his head; smiling. "It's surreal. Like a dream." His hand left the place on your back; travelled further up to gently graze your side and ribcage, which cause goosebumps to spread over your skin. "I hope it's a never-ending dream..." You bit your lip once more, then gave Jonathan a push; making him lay on his back. With on hand pressed firmly on his muscular left pec, you hovered over him; mouth only a hairsbreadth away from his. "Baby, I promise you... It is a never-ending dream." You captured his lips with yours then; tangling them up in a sinful kiss.

Jonathan's biceps bulged as he tried to pull you on top of him. Once he was successful, he rested both his hands on your hips to keep you in place. With his lips still sealed in your kiss, he shifted; moved his strong body to pin you on your back, so that he was on top of you know. The sudden movement of Jonathan made you break the kiss and caused a small yelp to escape your mouth. But when your husband was hovering above you now, you could only bite your lip again and smile.

The sun, which shone through the curtains gave his face a soft glow; his short blonde-brown curls almost shining golden. He looked even more handsome now.

You lifted your hand to his face; fingertips softly mapping out his jaw and cheekbones. You could clearly feel the soft stubble on his cheeks and chin; giving you a sizzling sensation.

"I love you, Jonathan."

He smiled. That dazzling smile you fell in love with such a long time ago.

"I love you even more, my darling."

#jonathan pine #jonathan pine x reader #jonathan pine x you #jonathan pine x y/n #the night manager #the night manager fanfiction #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x y/n #tom hiddleston character

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naushtheaspiringauthor · 6 months

Note

Please please please could you write a Nikolai x reader fic with the Enchanted prompt?? 🥹💕

Majestic- Nikolai Lantsov x reader

A/N- Ignore the image looking so big. Anyways, I had so much fun writing this and I really hope you enjoy reading it! I wrote this one in Nikolai's pov because I love my bbg being a huge simp also jealous Nikolai😩😩

Warnings- None

Summary- Nikolai utterly despised how annoying you are, but when he sees you dancing with someone else during a ball, he experiences feelings he never knew of

Nikolai walked around the hall, checking how Genya's preparations for the upcoming ball had been going on. She'd done a marvellous job, undoubtedly, but still he was astonished to find the boring hall look so endearing. Usually he wasn't much thrilled for these events as they were a frequent occurrence, yet he found himself looking forward to this one as you were supposed to be there

"I'm surprised to say that it's quite impressive how you've turned this monotonous area in this palace to this" He looked around the hall, so as to admire the view

"Surprised? I excel at anything I wish to" Genya responded with a smug look on her face

"Well, I'm not arguing that" Nikolai shrugged.

"Oh and just so you know, y/n has come back so she'll be attending the event" She spoke again.

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow. "That's good, but I don't see why that concerns me" He gave her a disinterested look

"Alright" Genya rolled her single amber eye, not wanting to argue with him further.

You'd been away for a meeting with the Kerch merchant council for about a week now. Even though Nikolai was relieved to not having to tolerate you making fun of literally everything he did, he was still surprised to find himself missing your devilish grin

............................................................

Nikolai had wore a black coat with the Ravkan double eagle emblazoned to a side. His hair looked much less messier than usual.

He entered the now endearing hall with light gleaming from every corner. The whole surrounding was filled with a variety of riches, nobles and high ranking officers from the first army.

He was having a rather displeasing conversation with some merchant about various kinds of brandies when he noticed you enter the hall. You were wearing a midnight blue silk gown with straps that hung beautifully over your shoulders. Your hair was pulled into a bun and had several loose strands falling in front that were too small to be a part of the bun

You seemed to catch most people's attentions as they recognized who you were. You chatted with most of the nobles and they listened to you speak with great interest. The whole scene made Nikolai roll his eyes and get himself another glass of champagne

...................................................

Nikolai was watching the perfectly hung chandeliers when he heard your voice from behind

"Looks like you've found your betrothed, moi tsar" you smirked

Instead of being annoyed, he smiled back and responded "Well she is radiant and much more quiet then the other options"

"You wish you had that option" You gave him a proud expression

"Ah how unlucky of me to not having the most annoying human on earth as an option to become my betrothed" he gave you similar look

"Keep telling yourself that to soothe your aching heart, moi tsar" you tilted your head to a side

Before Nikolai could respond with equally snarky words, you were snatched away by a noblewoman who began to ask you about the architectural designs in Ketterdam.

..........................................

Nikolai spent most of his time talking to the guests yet, he could keep his attention towards the conversation which was weird because he was quite good at listening to people talk. He still found his gaze drifting towards you. Why was he even doing that? you were just almost too good at conversating with strangers but why would it matter to him, those people didn't know how annoying you truly were.

It was maddening how you were hiding your true evil nature so elegantly and how beautiful you were looking in that damned dress and how beautifully it brought out the color of your eyes.

You were now talking to some, young man who was trying too hard to flirt with you.

The man was a lot taller than you so you had to look up to meet his gaze. But what was so special about that anyways? Nikolai was a lot taller than you as well or maybe you were just too short. He also had dark hair that was slicked back and small dimples appeared on either side of his cheeks whenever he smiled. What even was so special about dimples anyway? they didn't make him insanely attractive or anything.

Nikolai was really struggling to not roll his eyes at the sights of all that, yet he couldn't figure out why he was caring so much about it. Why he didn't like it when you weren't spending your evening mocking him but were instead laughing with someone else.

Soon, the dances were about to begin and the change of the rhythm of the orchestra proved so.

Several people stepped front to partake in the activity. Nikolai noticed the man with the dimples bringing his hand forward and you taking it as you both stepped in front.

................................................

Nikolai stood in a corner with a half empty glass of champagne in his hand as he watched you glide around the hall with the average looking man.

He spun you around while his gaze remained fixated on yours. And at times, even grinned like an idiot who'd achieved something huge without any effort.

Though there were a thousand things Nikolai could be doing at that moment, he continued to look at you with immense grimace. He watched you dance with the bloke as he got himself another glass of champagne.

.............................................

After what felt like an eternity, the façade was finished and you bid farewell to the man.

Nikolai was too deep indulged in his thoughts to notice you coming from behind. "You seem to be rather displeased tonight, moi tsarevich" You spoke

He turned around hastily to see you standing in front of him. "Well, these occasions are all the same, nothing new. People bragging and indulging in useless conversations that might bore you to death and dancing with nincompoops" he grimaced at the last sentence

"All the saints and their aunts, are you jealous your highness?" you smirked

"In your wildest dreams" he responded with a bold expression. "Who even is that guy anyways? Another average man who thinks he can win over anyone with his dimples and weird hair" he muttered loud enough for you to hear

"You know, if you really wished to dance with me, you could've just said so" a corner of your mouth turned up

"Maybe, but you were too occupied grinning with that bloke"

"See? acceptance is a bold step your highness. And don't curse the poor boy so much, he'd already been looking as if he'd been preparing his script for weeks"

"If only he possessed my talents" he smiled proudly

"You know, it's not entirely late for that dance" you tilted your head as you raised your eyebrows.

"Alright then, I shall fulfil that wish of yours too" he responded, his statement making you roll your eyes

He gently offered you his hand and you took it as you both stepped outside the hall.

................................................

The euphonic music playing distantly filled up your ears as you took Nikolai's hands in yours. His gaze remained stagnant on yours and he finally noticed how beautifully your y/e/c eyes shone as the moonlight gleamed on them. At that moment, he could think of nothing but you. How beautiful you appeared, even when you'd be working in the scorching heat or the heavy rain. How smartly you managed to handle any situation without engaging in any form of conflict. How could he not like you if you were that way. How was he to despise you when you were so majestic? Through he was now hating you for being so.

"You know, it wouldn't shatter your pride to just accept the fact that I'm simply the most magnificent woman you've laid your eyes on, your highness" you smiled as you raised your eyebrows

"Nikolai, just Nikolai would do. And I that is very bold of you, but you do more work to keep the country stable than anyone else so I wouldn't say much" he returned your expression

"You aren't denying it either, Nikolai"

His name coming from your lips made him feel different, as he never had before. It was rather rare of you calling him by his name he couldn't even recall the last time you did. But he knew you were right, he truly never hand seen another woman as magnificent as you.

No matter how much you annoyed him most of the time or made fun of every thing about him, he really never had known one like you. And seeing you dance with someone else, seeing your hands on someone else's, made him feel emotions he never knew he had.

You swayed to the soft music playing in the distance as your hands rested on Nikolai's shoulders and his on your waist.

His soft hazel eyes were fixated on yours as the night went by. He brought out his hand without haste and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear that had been blocking his view of your beautiful y/e/c eye.

................................................

The moment went by in a haste as you spoke in a sudden, "I'm afraid I might have to leave now, so as to bid farewells to the guests and I believe you should do the same"

"Ye-yes you're right" he spoke in a hesitant voice, not willing to part from you.

Without having another option, you turned to leave as Nikolai held your hand for a moment and then let it go.

You both went your separate ways as Nikolai slightly flexed his hand from your touch.

After the party ended, he set on his way to his quarters, not realizing how red his cheeks had become.

#nikolai lantsov x reader #grishaverse #shadow and bone #nikolai lanstov #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov fanfiction #nikolai lanstov x reader

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kiwisbell · 6 months

Text

Las Mañanas || Chapter 8 (conclusion) [javier peña]

She’s a waitress in a little café. He’s a DEA agent who likes the coffee. Just the coffee. That’s all. Or, slices of life (and sometimes pie) shared between Javi and his wife, including his tireless journey to making her his wife.

series masterlist | my masterlist

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

tags/warnings: javi getting the fucking love he deserves, coffee shop AU if you squint really hard, soft and sweet!javi, protective!javi, grumpy!javi, simp!javi tbh, alcohol, smoking, so much fluff, nobody fucks with javi's girl, overuse of spanish pet names, poorly-translated spanish, "she" pronoun used throughout, unprotected piv (you should get it at this point), oral sex (m and f receiving), anal play, car sex, this shit is sappy as fuck okay, gimme a break, married bliss, face-fucking, lingerie, reader is #1 javi supporter forever, fingering, descriptions of bombing, blood and injury, anxiety, fear, extremely protective!javi, feral!javi, pregnancy, happy ending (obvi who do you think you're working with)

word count: ~ 11.4k (as a treat bc it's over)

a/n: we've reached the end!! thank you all so much for your patience as i've worked on cross-posting this fic. your support is unreal and i love all of you so very dearly xoxo

chapter eight: siempre

It’s noon. The clock is grating in his ears, and he's tempted to take out the batteries. The paperwork is tall as his head, and it's going to be a late night. There are a number of things he would rather be doing. A person he'd rather be seeing.

Chris Feistl pokes his head in the doorway. "Got a lady here to see you, boss."

Javier already sees his girl just outside the door, bent over Cindy's desk, chatting away. Well, he can mostly just see her ass—it's facing him, for God's sake. He admires it for a moment, then turns back to his work without looking at Feistl. "The lady's my wife. Show some respect."

He's busting his balls (for the most part), but Feistl ducks his head out. "Got it, sir."

When she gets to the door, she's all smiles. "Hi, handsome."

Javier gets up, twists all the blinds in his office closed, and pulls her into a kiss. "Hey, baby," he mumbles, dragging his mouth along her jaw. "You look beautiful."

She's wearing a pale blue sweater and a floral-patterned skirt that swishes around her thighs, and her sneakers are blinding white. It's springtime in Bogotá.

Her soft gasp melts his bones, sucks the tension in his shoulders away. "They'll think you're trying to fuck me, Javi," she whispers, but she doesn't sound like she cares all that much.

"Don't care." He smiles into her cheek when she giggles, ticklish from his breath. "Maybe I am."

She laughs again, cupping his face and turning it toward her. "How about lunch first?" she suggests. "That way, you can have me for dessert."

He shakes his head and pulls her in again just so he can cover her face with kisses. "I fucking love you."

She digs around in her purse and brings out a plastic container. He's hit with the smell of empanadas, and suddenly he remembers he didn't eat breakfast. "C'mon," he says, picking her up around the waist and setting her down on his desk. She crosses her legs and hands him the bag, grabbing him one last time to kiss him on the lips. He watches her skirt slip up her thigh and rests his hand there, where her hip meets her leg. He rubs small circles with his thumb over her soft skin and toys with the waistband of her panties. He won't fuck her here, not really. Too much risk of someone walking in, and nobody sees her naked but him. Still, it calms him to touch her.

"You've got nosy employees," she says. "Cindy's the only one who hasn't asked me about the nature of my relationship with the boss."

His jaw ticks. "Pendejos."

"Hey, it's okay." He fingers trail up his arm. Her smile is coy, but he knows exactly what that look means. "I like them knowing it's me you come home to."

Javier brushes a knuckle across her chin. "Fuckin' right, baby," he says, leaning in and nipping at her lip. She chases his mouth like she's starving. "All yours. Todo tuyo."

She reaches around and pinches his ass. "And you're not my boss."

Javier nods vehemently, already kissing her on the lips. "Yes, ma'am."

"Eat, honey." She pulls away but he keeps leaning in, cradling the back of her head with the hand that isn't squeezing the flesh of her thigh. She laughs into his mouth at his eagerness. "You gotta eat, Javi."

"Okay. Okay." He stops kissing her and squeezes her hip. "Okay."

"Insaciable," she whispers.

“How's the new desk?” he asks her, settling in with his lunch. “Bigger than mine?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” She reaches across his desk to pour some coffee from his Thermos into his corny World’s Best Husband mug. She takes a sip and then offers him one. He drinks. “I’ve got a corner spot.”

He frowns. “They put you in the corner?”

She looks at him fondly. “It's got a window, my love. It's perfectly fine.”

When they returned to Colombia, she began to poke around for new jobs. I don't want to smell like coffee all day, she said with a pout. And Jorge called the other day—he’s retiring. The café will go to his son.

You aren't worried about the money, are you, baby? he asked her.

Do I need to be?

He shook his head vehemently. No.

Then I’m not worried about the money. She grinned into his mouth when she kissed him. I’ll still make you coffee.

She found a position at the Universidad Nacional de Colombia as a counsellor’s receptionist. It's a starting position, but given experience in her teenage and college years as a peer mentor, lifeguard, tutor, and babysitter (among other things) helped her secure the job with ease. Besides, everyone she meets falls in love with her.

“Corner desk,” he grunts. “You're only scheduling all his appointments for him and fielding all his calls.”

She lightly shoves his chest. “Play nice. He’s a good boss.” Her fingers play along his tie. “Are you a good boss, Agent Peña?”

“Mmm. Better than fuckin’ Alberto.” He watches her fondle the tie around his neck, slipping her fingers behind a button of his shirt to feel his warm skin before they retreat again.

“And if you were my boss?”

Her eyes are wide and innocent when they lift up to meet his, and blood rushes to his cock at the game she's just begun. After seven years together, he knows her tricks, but she’s the best at getting under his skin, clawing at his brain with her dainty fingernails and plucking exactly the right strings. She knows he likes how it feels to put her beneath him and take control. To lose himself in her body because it's too damn sweet, too soft, and he wants to keep her safe from the world that's burned her.

“If I were your boss,” he says, watching his fingers trace mindless patterns on her bare thigh, “you'd get the biggest desk. You'd get a personal coffee machine. Four windows. Secretaries.” He begins to kiss her, everywhere but her mouth, just following the path his mouth wants to explore. He whispers his promises into her cheek, her jaw, the spot below her ear, her throat. She smells like linen and jasmine and fresh air. “As many breaks as you want. Paid vacation.” He grins against her throat. “Paid maternity.”

She clicks her tongue, but her pupils are swelling, engulfing her irises. “Special treatment,” she scolds. “They'd think I was doing the boss favours.”

“Eres especial,” he says into her ear, bringing her lobe briefly between his teeth. She shudders. “Why shouldn't I give my best employee the best treatment? Hmm?”

She hooks her thumbs into his belt loops and tugs him closer, beaming up at him. “I can guess how I’d thank you.”

“Yeah?” He squeezes her thigh, skates his palm up her side until he can reach around her back and press it flat against her shoulder blades, keeping her close. “Dime.”

“Empanadas, for a start.” Her fingers trail back up his torso, and he feels himself shivering beneath their travels. She slides them underneath his unbuttoned jacket and feels the strong muscles of his pecs, the soft plushness of his stomach, the body she loves so much she'd worship it like a deity. “Then, I’d get on my knees,” she says, sliding a button out of its hole and salivating at the sight of the trail of hair that leads down to the cock she wants so badly. His breathing shifts when she pops out another button and untucks his shirt to grant herself full access. He has to blink away the blindness when she slips her hands under his pants and her eyes spark with amusement. “No underwear, even at work,” she says. “Malo.”

“Never know when you'll need me,” he says.

“So… considerate… my love.” She plants kisses down the line of his jaw as she takes hold of his cock. He boxes her in on both sides, planting his hands on the desk to steady himself.

“Mierda. Baby, someone could walk in.” As much as he craves her hand around his cock, he doesn't want to deal with the fallout of his inferiors catching their boss in the middle of a handjob.

She pouts, indulging herself with one drawn-out stroke up and down his length. He pulls her toward him by the back of her head and kisses her deeply. “I’ll give it to you later,” he whispers. “I promise.”

She tucks him, hard and aching, back into his pants. Her breaths are a little unsteady, her eyes blackened with lust, but at least they don't look like they went through with it. “You better,” she says, nipping his bottom lip.

They part ways after approximately ten minutes of stalling: one kissing the other, then the other way around, then one remembering to tell the other something they'd spontaneously remembered. Te amo, they tell one another at last, untangling their hands.

He can tell Feistl, Van Ness, and the others in the bullpen are fighting themselves not to watch her too closely on her way out, too afraid of letting curiosity win at the expense of their asshole boss’s wrath.

Javier locks himself in his office for the rest of the day and tries to bury himself in his paperwork so he can tamper his erection. But the second he gets into his car—a shiny black Chevy that makes him miss his beaten truck—and begins to anticipate coming home to her, he has to drive home squeezing his length to relieve the insistent pressure against his pants.

She waits patiently on the bed, flipping through a magazine with her ass up and her legs kicking. She's wearing nothing but a shift of blue lace and panties, and she's shaved, bathed, and giddy with excitement as her husband turns the doorknob to their new apartment.

The DEA gave him a bigger place with his promotion. It's spacious, clean, and it was heartless before she brought all their possessions back inside and spent their first night back breaking in the kitchen. Being back in Bogotá is familiar, visiting an old friend, but it carries everything they longed to leave behind the first time they returned home. The long nights, the dead ends, the never-quiet nights. Covering her with his body when gunshots sound outside, even though they can't reach their haven. The screams and shouts and peeking around corners, running across rooftops. Late at night, when they're through with dinner and sex and showering, he's laid on her chest and told her how he wants things to be different. He’ll do things by the books. He won't let things get out of hand the way they did with Los Pepes. He won't let the job kill him.

He says her name so slowly, so darkly, that it's like he's never tasted the sounds on his tongue before. It's like he's rolling the name around his tongue to savour it, a rich treat, something to wrap around his heart. She turns her head and says sweetly: “Hi, honey. You’re home.”

Javier shucks off his jacket so fast she hears a rip and stalks toward the bed. She locks her ankles together and pretends like she needs a stretch, arching her back and lifting herself up onto her elbows. His hungry eyes, black in the dim light, are fixed on her ass as the shift slips to the side and reveals the flimsy thing that exposes damn near everything. “What the fuck,” he says, “did I do to deserve this?”

She hums like she's pondering it. “I missed you. Did you miss me?”

He says nothing, only grabs her hips roughly, suddenly, making her yelp as he forces her onto her knees, her back arched deliciously for him. He sinks his teeth into one of her cheeks, and her whine crescendos to a moan when he yanks her panties down her thighs and fixes his mouth to her cunt.

“Oh, Javi!” she squeals. Her thighs tremble when he latches his lips around her clit and sucks, his mouth hot and wet. She grasps for a purchase on the bedsheets, but he's relentless, the obscenity of the noises he urges out of her mouth and the squelching of his expert motions against her drenched cunt echo in their home as he feasts on her as if she's water in the desert. His tongue breaches her entrance at the same time he smacks her ass. She lurches forward, moaning long and low, but he grabs her hips and keeps her attached to his mouth.

He licks her clit with aching meticulousness, pressure, wet, hot, and he groans into her pussy with such desperation it's like he's frustrated that he can't sink himself into her completely. She loses all control of her arms and her cheek pushes into the mattress. It's so good. It's too good, so perfect, she can't—

Oh.

Fuck.

He's moving, abandoning her clit, but he doesn't stop at her entrance. His mouth carves a path upward until she feels a push, a pressure at her other hole. She gasps out a wet, “Javi, oh my—,” but his tongue indulges, giving in, licking at her asshole until all she can do is moan, burying her face in the mattress.

He grunts, slapping the side of her thigh. “Louder,” he demands. “Can’t hear you.”

She chokes on her groan this time when he dives back in, this time teasing two fingers at the entrance to her cunt and pushing inside. She's so wet they give into him easily, and the teasing at her tight hole makes her sob with pleasure. She tries to string words together, but they break and crumble. “Fuck, fuck, oh, shit… Jav… unhhh, I can’t… Fuck!”

He just keeps her fixed to him until she breaks, freezing around his fingers and coming so hard she pushes them out with a burst of wetness. He kneads and soothes her red ass while she comes down, panting hard against the mattress, but he doesn't quite relent from tasting her asshole, licking gently until she can't hold herself up anymore.

Javi kisses the welt on her cheek and sits back on his haunches, hauling her up against him “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he groans into her throat, holding her tightly, the fabric of her slip bunching under his fingers. “Jesus, I can’t believe I’m married to you.”

She leans her head on his shoulder and beams drunkenly at him. “Wanted tonight to be for you,” she says, her words slurring together.

“That was for me,” he says, splaying his fingers over her rib cage. He nips at her earlobe. “You taste so fuckin’ good.”

“Javi,” she sighs, reaching up to keep his mouth latched to her throat.

“Hmm.” He sucks at her pulse until he knows it will bruise.

“Stand up, please,” she says sweetly. “I want you to fuck my mouth.”

His hand, keeping her steady against his front, tightens around her waist. “Fuck,” he rasps into her hair. “Get on your knees, baby.”

They scramble into position. Javier begins to shed his shirt and pants, but she’s looking up at him, eyes wide, and he realises she wants to do it for him. “Go on, bonita,” he urges.

She grins, standing up on her toes and kissing his jaw to his ear, sucking on the lobe while her fingers make slow work of the buttons on his shirt. He grunts, grasping her hips and fisting at the feeble slip covering her torso. “Want this… fuck, want this fucking off,” he complains, grumpier with each second he can’t feel her soft body curve up against him.

“But I wore it for you,” she says, teasing, migrating to the shell of his ear then the spot beneath. He’s hard, leaking, twitching in his pants, so desperate to feel her underneath this pretty silk that he’s willing to tear the fucking thing into shreds.

Her fingers are deft as they work out each button, and her mouth against him makes his skin buzz, his brain condensing with a thick fog that only parts for her: her body, her touch, her laughter, like bells, as she guides his hands around her back to the clasp that keeps the little slip secure.

She slides his shirt off as he works the clasp open, slipping the blue fabric off her shoulders and exposing her to him. He’s happier already, his hands finding her hips and pressing her up against him, thumbs caressing her ribs to make her shiver while she unbuttons his pants.

She begins to kiss her way down his chest, lavishing him with such fond attention, such reverence and care, as her lips find every mark on his body. Scars and birthmarks and freckles—she kisses each one, licks others, and hums happily all the way down, adorning his body with the smell and the imprint of her. He tips his head forward to watch her sink to her knees, his hands regretfully parting with her hips and instead finding her head. He cradles it gently as she continues to worship him, enjoying the way his breathing grows staggered, methodical, like he’s trying to remember how to do it.

She slips the button out on his pants and brings them slowly down his thighs, his cock tapping against his stomach. She licks her lips, and he takes himself in hand.

“You want it, baby?”

She nods, hands steadying themselves on his strong thighs. “Please.”

“Open,” he says gruffly. She does, parting her lips for him and squeezing her thighs together so she won’t give into the urge to touch herself. He slaps the head of his cock against her tongue, once, twice, three times, and she mewls like a whore. He grits his teeth and rests the heavy weight of him on her tongue. Like a good girl, she does nothing until he makes the command, but she looks so fucking happy, wide-eyed and teary just from tasting him, that he doesn’t have the heart to tease her.

He’s through with teasing himself, too. “You want me to fuck your mouth, bonita?” Again, she nods, humming against his cock and making it twitch on her tongue. He threads his fingers through her hair and holds her where he wants her. “Tap me twice if you need me to stop.”

She just keeps looking up at him with those eyes, so full of trust and admiration, and he manoeuvres her head closer to him, his cock sliding through the hot, slick walls of her mouth until he feels the head pressing up against her throat. She swallows around him, breathing tediously through her nose, and he goes blind with the fucking tightness of her, how good it feels to have her on her knees for him, here only to please him.

“That’s fucking it, baby.” He pulls out until he’s resting the head on her tongue again, but this time it slips out greedily to lap at the precum dribbling from the slit. “Fuck. Be fucking good. ¿Claro?”

She whimpers, and it’s the sound she makes when she wants him to give in—to use her the way he wants, to put his pleasure in her hands. To take. Javier’s nostrils flare when he takes her down all the way until she’s trying not to gag on him, her nose pressed up against the hairs at the base of his cock. She moans at the same time he does, and then he really begins to move.

She wants him to fuck her throat; so he fucks her throat. His hands keep her head in place while his cock follows the path of her mouth, sliding along her tongue as she sucks him in deeper with the way she swallows and constricts. She’s a fucking pro, malleable and eager in his hands, keeping herself aloft and still so she can’t hurt him as he fucks her throat with little care for slowing down or keeping it gentle. She doesn’t want him to. And he can’t bring himself to care, not when she feels so good, not when his wife is on her knees and sucking the life out of him like his own personal pornstar. “Fuckin’—fuckin’ take it,” he says between ragged breaths, his hips stuttering at the first indication that he’s close. “You gonna swallow it?”

She hums, fingernails scratching his thighs in her eagerness to express the yes without letting him fall from her mouth. In case he doesn’t get the message, she reaches for him with both hands as he continues to thrust into her mouth and gently squeezes his balls.

He steadies himself by slapping a hand against the bedpost. “Jesus. Fucking hell. Gonna—gonna fucking come.” She’s so wet she can feel it dripping down her thighs, and the urge to touch herself is unbearable when he pulls out with a choked groan, jerking himself twice before he’s placing the head of his cock on her tongue and watching all of his cum spill into her mouth.

She’s fascinated and oh-so turned on by the way he twitches, his cock bobbing and pulsing as she takes all of his spend and happily laps the rest of it up until he can’t produce another drop. For good measure, she slips him back into her mouth and pulls off with an obscene pop, swallowing him all down.

Javier isn’t sure if he’s dreaming when he finally pulls her to her feet, but the way she gently guides him to the bed to let him sit, climbing onto his lap, makes him so desperate for it to be real.

She sighs into the crook of his neck. Her voice is raspy and used from his assault against her throat, but she doesn’t seem whatsoever displeased. “I love you,” she tells him, scratching her fingernails at the nape of his neck. He purrs at the feeling, letting himself fall back until they hit the mattress.

He kisses her temple. “I love you. You and your smart fucking mouth, you and that little tease of a dress.”

She snorts. “You loved that little tease of a dress so much you nearly tore it in two.”

“Mmm, love what's underneath more.” He rolls them over until he's on top of her and flicks his tongue over her nipple. She giggles, threading her fingers through his hair.

“That mean you'll buy me a new one?”

“I’ll buy you”—he bites her nipple and lifts his hand to squeeze her other breast—“whatever the fuck you want.” He nudges her cheek with his nose. “That was a nice surprise, baby. Mi hermosa esposa es tan buena conmigo.”

She hooks her foot under his knee and uses the leverage to roll him onto his back again. She fondly traces the shape of his ribs, making him shudder beneath her. “I want you to know,” she says, “you're going to do so well. You're gonna shove it in Stechner’s face, mi amor. He thinks you're gonna drown, that you're gonna lose to all that red tape. But you won't.” Her eyes meet his, and there's a vacuum in the room. It punches all the breath from his lungs. It sucks all the air away until his hands on her body are all that can give him oxygen. He grips her hard, arms strong around her waist, and she cups his face in her reverent hands. She loves him. And he can feel it. “You are going to win, Javier. Ganaras. Eres un buen hombre (You will win. You are a good man). My husband doesn't lose to assholes who want to see him stumble.” Her mouth sets a hard edge. “¿Claro?”

Javier makes sure she feels every press of his fingertips into her back as he makes his way up to her shoulders, across her collarbones, and tucks her hair behind her ears, cradling her beautiful face above him. “Nobody”—he shakes her head around a little, gently, just to get the message into her brain—“has believed in me the way you do. No way I’m going to fucking let you down.”

A bright smile crinkles the corners of her eyes. “The only way you could ever let me down,” she tells him, “is if you're putting me on my knees.”

“Fuckin’ fox,” he mutters, shaking his head as he leans in and presses a long kiss to her forehead. He lets his mouth linger there for a while, imagining he can hear the patter of their heartbeats, synchronised.

They've barely been back in Colombia a month, and Bill Stechner is already making Javier’s life a living hell. But the way his wife is storming around the kitchen and clanging pots and pans like she's on a personal goddamn war path, you'd think Stechner had slapped her mother and kicked her dog.

“Exploiting you,” she hisses, mostly to herself by now since she's talking so fast and barely looking at him. “That snake… He’s exploiting you just so some asshole senators will throw money at their little puppet show. Does he even know… Do they… The fucking nerve…” She’s visibly shaking with rage when she begins to chop onions on the cutting board, and the tears that well in her eyes are not from the vegetable.

To her credit, she's a fantastic cook, and Javier trusts her with a knife. He doesn't typically like to interrupt her furious rants, especially not when she's wielding a weapon.

But he realises he should have intervened when she picked up that knife. Because in all her angry trembling, the knife has slipped and cut her palm on its way to the floor.

“Fuck!” she cries out.

“Shit.” He rushes around the counter and puts the knife safely aside before he’s at her side. It makes him wince to see his wife squeezing tears of pain out of her eyes, to see the blood dripping from her closed palm. “Open your hand. We gotta wash this, baby.”

Still shaking, she does, a sigh leaving her mouth in a tremor. “Slipped. That was stupid. ‘M sorry, Jav.”

He shakes his head, guiding her to the kitchen. “No sorries,” he says, turning on the faucet. “Looks like you made a blood sacrifice, baby. Tryin’ to put Stechner under?”

She scoffs, sticking her palm under the water. “A lady never bleeds and tells.”

They're silent while the blood turns the rush of water beneath her hand red. Outside, the birds chirp, the sun shines, and the winds rustles the trees outside.

“He told me something,” says Javier, frowning at the cut on her palm. “Stechner. I was so fuckin’ mad finding out all the bodies in that jungle were for show, and he just told me that if anyone takes something like that as personally as I did, they're in the wrong line of work.” He grinds his teeth. “He should be right. But fuck, I don't want to be distant. I want it to feel shitty. Is that batshit crazy?”

She turns off the faucet and hands him a bandage from the first aid kit beneath the sink. She knows he likes to have something to do with his hands when he isn't smoking. He begins to tear it open. “Javier,” she says, “you aren't batshit. You've dedicated over ten years of your life to fighting these people, the things they do. Of course you're going to take it personally. I'd be scared to look at a man who sees the things you have and shrugs it off. As for wanting it to feel shitty… I hate to see you punishing yourself for things you can't control, mi amor, but I understand. I just want to be able to help you get yourself back out when you go deep inside that head of yours.” She taps his temple with her good hand, dropping it to squeeze his shoulder.

“I can't pretend to understand everything. But when I was with Nicolás, I would loathe myself for being so… idle. He'd go off and fuck other women, break fingers if someone so much as cheated him at poker, and, well, he turned me into a cash source. I didn't do anything to stop him because I thought he was it for me. But this war…” She searches his eyes and tries to shove her words into him. “This isn't it for you, Javi.

“You're not a puppet,” she says fiercely, still sniffling as he presses the bandage into her palm. “You're a real hero.”

“Shhh.” He presses his mouth to her temple, squeezing his eyes shut for just a moment. Hero. Something about that word in his wife’s mouth doesn't sit right inside him. But she truly believes it. He lets her words sink into his chest, and all he gleans from them is faith. Her faith in him and the work he does, her faith that he can get the job done and finally rest.

Maybe he can. Maybe, when it's over, he'll be able to let the dust settle. So far, he's spent his whole life kicking it up.

“¡Señora Peña!” calls a voice from the staff lounge across the hall. “¡Tu esposo esta en las noticias!”

She bolts to her feet and scrambles out of the counselling office. “Is he—”

Alberto Estrada’s laugh eases some of the tension in her bones. Your husband’s on the news can only ever be good or bad. “He's fine. Better than fine, from the sounds of it,” he says, indicating the headline.

She meets him in front of the television and muffles her burst of giddy laughter behind her hand. DEA arrests Gilberto Rodríguez.

A film crew has set up outside the Embassy and a reporter details the arrest with what few scraps of knowledge they have. Debajo de la escalera… se rindió… Agente Javier Peña…

“¡Vete a la mierda!” she whoops at the television. “Fuck you, Rodríguez!”

Alberto toasts his cup of coffee toward the television. “Agente Javier Peña,” he announces in his powerful voice. “Making the world a better place and fucking over the godfathers!”

Sara and Carlos, fellow counsellors, wander into the room at all the commotion. “Dios,” gasps Sara, her hand flying to the rosary at her throat. “Es cierto. Señora Peña, you better kiss your husband for me tonight.”

“And me,” chimes in Carlos, grinning at the reporter on the screen.

I’ll do more than that, she thinks.

Back in the office, a phone begins to ring. She looks around at each of her coworkers and her boss, bouncing on the balls of her feet, until Alberto booms, “Pick up the phone!”

She hurries back to her desk, teeth worrying her lip, and nearly drops the receiver in her excitement. “Consejería académica.”

“You watching the news, bonita?”

She grins, slipping into her desk chair. “Was he really under the staircase?”

She can hear the hushed tone of his voice, the distant cheers outside his office as his employees celebrate without him. “Cowering,” he confirms. “Then surrendering. Almost didn't find him.”

“But you did.” She twirls the telephone cord around her finger. “I’m so proud of you, Javier.”

“Proud enough to take the afternoon off?”

Her heart lurches with glee. “You really wanna?”

In his office, blinds drawn, lights dim, and door locked, Javier is knocked breathless at the sound of her voice: so hopeful, touched with such trust and joy. He could drown in it. Outside, the celebrations have begun early, an unspoken agreement that a win like this merits the rest of the day off. They’ll go to a bar and brag about being part of the arrest of a godfather of Cali. Javier just wants to see the smile on his girl’s face. “Yeah, baby. Wait for me. I’ll pick you up, take you somewhere nice.”

“Maybe I should be taking you somewhere nice,” she purrs, “being the wife of the Javier Peña and all.”

Damn it if that doesn’t sound like a tempting idea, with the drop in her voice and the significant interest in his jeans. “I gotta get out of here, honey,” he grumbles. “Thought Cindy was going to drop down and start polishing my shoes.”

She hums. “I don’t think I like the sound of that. Should be me polishing your shoes.”

Javier chuckles. “Get that pretty ass out of your corner desk and wait outside for me.”

She practically jumps to gather her things. Professor Estrada grants her the afternoon off. She bursts out the front doors of the campus community centre and bounds toward the car whose passenger door opens for her. Javier scoops her up in his arms and kisses her deeply. He slips his sunglasses onto the top of her head.

“Get in the car,” he says, pecking her nose. “We’re going out.”

Going out has come to mean a very different thing to Javier Peña since his face started getting plastered all over the news.

He would have taken her dancing, but too many people are out celebrating the monumental arrest, and too many people will recognise him for it. He doesn’t want to shimmer under a spotlight, and he especially doesn’t want any narcos out on a revenge kick spotting his wife and deciding she makes a pretty target.

So, he drives them out to the countryside, where the lights don’t choke the life out of the stars, parks in a flat field that probably belongs to somebody, and he cracks the trunk of his car. They sit back there and share a box of caramel-filled chocolates he swiped from the Embassy’s flurry of celebrations. It’s more than enough to just be here, his legs entangled with hers, breathing in tandem in the back of his car beneath the blanket of stars.

“You’d think I saved the fuckin’ president,” he says.

“Maybe you did.” Her eyes slide from the horizon to him, drinking in the sight of his face under moonlight. His pouting lips, the moustache that always tickles her skin, the shining, tanned skin visible behind the half-buttoned polo. Sometimes, it feels surreal. She’s looking at a painting, a statue, a work of art that is anything but real or touchable. And then she’ll slide her hands beneath the collar of that shirt and feel the ineffable realness of his strong body, his warm freckled skin, and she’ll know she’s somehow slipped into the painting with him. She’s become a sculpture meant to encircle the marble of him.

He rubs his thumb in circles over her ankle bone. She’s discarded her shoes, her sweater, all but her dress. His brow lifts at the way she watches him, devours him. “Enlighten me, bonita.”

“Maybe, five years from now, Gilberto Rodríguez wants to make a statement. Maybe he makes an attempt on the president, who maybe supports the war on drugs. Maybe the attempt works.” She shrugs. “Maybe, in making that arrest, you avoided all that.”

Thinking in possibilities has never been the most effective course of action among Javier and his colleagues. But coming from her mouth, it makes sense. It sounds beautiful. The faint light of the moon casts her skin in silver. He squeezes her ankle.

“Remember that story you told me,” she muses, “about when you were sixteen, and you broke your ankle sneaking out to see a girl?”

He huffs. “Not my proudest moment for you to remember, baby.”

She laughs, nudging his thigh with her foot. “It’s just… When you told me that story, I saw this look in your eyes. It’s the same thing that happens when you smile—really smile. Like a spark of life. I used to be afraid of it sometimes, when I didn’t know you the way I do now. I thought there were parts of you I would be better off not knowing. But I think it’s my favourite part about you.” She shuffles closer, and her fingertips brush the whiskers on his jaw, the reminders of the late nights he’s reacquainted himself with since his return. “I love seeing you filled with life,” she says softly.

He wraps his arms around her waist and feels the frown lifting the pressure from his brows as her fingers migrate there, smoothing the imprints of memories there. He leans into her touch as she makes a canvas of him, softening the tension in his face with her gentle hands. When she finally slots her mouth over his in a featherlight kiss, he keeps his eyes open for a moment, trying to drink—no, drown—in the dizzying reality of her. Her confession wraps around his heart until it bursts with the pressure. He can’t hold enough of her. He can’t grasp at enough of her skin, keep enough of her body in his hands before he feels dissatisfied. His entire body buzzes for her. He doesn’t want to simply press her to him. He wants to feel how it feels to live two lives, to feel two loves.

He is grappling for a purchase on the moonlight that coats her skin in stardust.

Her lips are sweet and salty with caramel and chocolate. He tastes it on her tongue when he cups her face and encourages her mouth to open so he can consume a bit more of her. Her sigh rattles through him until it's inside his very bones. Her arms wrap around his neck, bringing him closer. He takes a handful of her ass to shift her up onto his lap.

For a moment, they just look at each other. Her chest heaves. Her eyes shimmer. He grins up at her and she scans each line of his face, pasting it on her eyelids.

Kissing her is like starving, pulling her nearer with every gasp they share, biting and sucking and tangling his tongue with hers until their bodies are too close to let a sheet of paper slip between them.

Kissing her is feasting, indulging, refusing to deny the pleasure of it. A hand at her back, another at her jaw, wishing he had fifteen more hands, a hundred more years.

Javier leaves her mouth and carves a path along her jaw, finding the spot beneath her lobe that makes her purr against him. She tilts her head to give him better access, and her throat is lit with a shaft of moonlight. He sucks on her soft skin, nibbling her lobe and sliding his palm up her back, lodging it in each groove of her spine. His other hand slides around to her front, brushing his fingers over her hard nipples and enjoying the way she begins to writhe in his lap. Toying with the straps of her dress, he licks at the groove of her throat until he's ready to leave a bruising, sucking kiss there. He wants her to fall apart under him, with only his touch, his mouth. He wants to salvage the pieces and tuck them between his ribs. He wants to breathe her.

“Javi,” she whispers, “please. I want you inside me.”

He nuzzles his nose in the hollow of her throat as he slides the straps of her dress down her shoulders until it pools around her hips. He nips at her collarbone and splays his hand over her rib cage, his fingers brushing the swell of her breast. The air is warm, but there's a slight breeze, and it ruffles her hair, tightens her nipples. She's a vision above him, a spectre one sees in a dream.

He brings her down for another kiss, but this time, he wants to imprint his mouth on hers forever. He consumes her, sliding his tongue against hers, sucking and biting and slipping his fingers from her heaving ribs down to her panties. He teases the hem before he delves farther down and finds her clit. The mere pressure of two fingers pressing up against it makes her cry out, grasping his shoulders. “Javi…”

“You're so wet.” He nudges his nose against her cheek, urging her to turn toward him, to look at him. Her pupils have blown wide, her breaths shuddering as she gently rocks her hips against his fingers. “Easy, baby.”

Let me take care of you.

As though she hears it in the way he circles her clit, she nods, resting her forehead against his. He slides two fingers through her slick and pushes them inside her. She gasps wetly, incapable of forming a word that doesn't sound like his name. The palm of his hand pressing hard against her needy clit, he works her open, right here in his lap, swallowing every gasp that wrenches from her throat when he cradles the back of her head and puts his mouth on hers.

He knows she's close by the way she pulses around his fingers, rocking her hips into his hand. He curls his fingers against the spongy spot inside her and pulls them away abruptly.

She pouts, unaccustomed to her husband refusing to indulge her. Her eyes are still glassy, her mind catching up to her mouth. “Wha… Why’d you…”

“Spoiled,” he grunts, biting her jaw. “You wanna come, baby?”

“Javi,” she coos, placing sloppy kisses down his throat, trying to tempt him into letting her come. His pretty little siren. It's fucking working, the way she grabs at him and grinds her hips against his hard cock.

“You wanna come?” he bites out, grabbing her hips in a bruising hold that halts her movements. “Take out my cock and ride it. Be good and I’ll fill you up.”

That works. Her eyes are doused in black, her hands scrambling to unbutton his jeans. “So tight,” she grumbles. “These fuckin' things… Need them off, honey.”

Javier chuckles, helping her by lifting his hips so she can take off his jeans. Her mouth waters at the sight of his cock, leaking against his stomach. “Did you take a test this week?” he asks her, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger.

She nods.

“And?” he prompts.

“Negative,” she breathes.

His hands trace the curves of her sides. “Wanna change that?”

Another nod, frantic. She reaches between them and takes his cock in her hand, slotting it at her entrance and fixing her eyes on his.

“I love you,” she says, cupping his cheek. “I want all of you. Soy todo tuyo.”

In a swift and sudden movement, he lurches forward with his whole arm bracketing her back and sinks her onto his length. She moans, dropping her head onto his shoulder. He gently pulls her head back, exposing her throat for him to lick. Her eyes are drooping in her daze, the head of him nestled at her womb. He slowly grinds deep, and her lashes flutter. “Told you, bebita,” he says. “I’ll give you everything you want.”

She gives an experimental roll of her hips and feels him so deep, so thick and heavy in her belly that she shivers. “S’good,” she slurs. “Fuck, honey, it's so good. So big. Fuck me, please, please…”

He lets her take what she wants from him even as he grits his teeth against her throat from the achingly slow drag of her walls around his length. “Fuck,” he huffs into her skin, his tongue darting out to taste her some more. “Feel me? You fuckin’ feel it?”

She arches her back like a cat stretching out in a sunspot. “So deep,” she gasps, her thighs trembling.

He swells with pride at the same time his cock twitches inside her. The hand not secured around her back shifts to her lower belly, and he swipes his thumb over her clit. Her shudder wreaks havoc on her entire body. “You're fucking perfect,” he grunts. “Hear me? Fucking perfect and all mine.”

She laughs breathlessly, addicted to the press of his cock against the spot inside her that wrecks her. “Is this what you needed? To fuck your wife in the middle of someone's field? Get away from the stuffy politics and just—ohhh, fuck—just fill me up with your big cock?”

Whatever blood remaining in his body floods his cock. He's mindless, growling, primal at the taste and smell and feel of her wrapped up in him. Her words make him pull her ever closer.

“Just needed you, baby.” He kisses her deeply. “The rest is a goddamn bonus.”

“Such a gentleman,” she says, her voice pitching down into a moan when he continues to torture her clit. “Should've let me come if you wanted me so badly.”

He lifts a brow, bucking his hips up against hers. “That so?”

She swallows thickly. “Spoiled, remember?”

Javier grins, sending she's getting close to her peak. “Want to come?”

“You know the fucking answer to that,” she whines.

Two of his fingers find the tight seal of her cunt where he disappears inside her, and he pushes inside. She cries out, “Oh!” and Javier shushes her with that cocky fucking grin.

“You can take it, baby,” he says, circling her clit to help her relax, help her take the stretch. She feels every groove, every knuckle, every sweet, slow, powerful pounding of his cock and his fingers in her soaked pussy. “That's it.” Javier kisses her from her lips to her jaw. “Thaaat’s it.”

She stiffens when her climax comes, freezing on his cock and clenching impossibly tight around his cock and fingers, choking the fucking life from him. He captures her melting cry in his mouth and fucks her thoroughly, pushing as deep as he can possibly go before he comes with a groan.

She's locked in position on his cock and he won't let her go. She wiggles her hips to take more of him as he spurts his hot cum inside her. Her eyes fall to where she's sat on him, watching it leak out of her and bead in the hairs at the base of his cock. She begins to giggle, drunk as always on the feel of him, them, together. “Like a Twinkie,” she mumbles.

Javier makes a gruff noise, pulling her down with him and holding the back of her head while he kisses her. “Think that was it?” he asks into her mouth.

“If it isn't,” she replies, pulling away and smiling wickedly, “I’ll still be in love with you.”

“Muy dulce,” he laughs, gently pulling her off him. She collapses, boneless, to the floor of the trunk, and he uses a napkin to wipe the remnants of his cum from her thighs. “C’mon, baby,” he says, gently patting her ass. “We need to put food in you.”

She hums, letting him lift her out of the car. He adjusts the straps of her dress on her shoulders. “You can put anything you want in me,” she says.

Javier brushes his knuckle across her chin and clicks his tongue. “Must've fucked you good, honey. Can you walk?”

She just takes his hand and follows him to the passenger’s side. She slips into the seat and he settles into his, starting up the car. “I like your way of celebrating,” she tells him.

He threads his fingers through hers and rests them on her thigh as he drives back toward the main road. “Did they at least get my good side?”

She laughs, bringing their joined hands up to kiss each of his knuckles. “Every side is your good side, Javier. You’re the point of envy for every Hollywood star there is.”

“I could do without the sarcasm,” he says good-naturedly.

“Who said I was being sarcastic?” She shakes her head, tutting. “I’ll get it through that head of yours someday, vaquero.”

“Get what through my head?” He lifts a brow, turning onto the road.

She watches him, illuminated by the lights of the city as they drive back toward civilisation. “The things I see when I look at you,” she says softly.

Sometimes, a thing happens that seems totally senseless. It will happen suddenly, and the fallout will be swift. It will not make sense until long afterward. Out of the cataclysm, misery arises, and the dust will settle on a dimmer world.

Possibility arises, too. Hope, even. But you must sift through the tragedy and the rubble before you can find it.

The sun shines outside. It’s just after noon. She wears a blouse and a skirt, but it’s the former that makes her especially happy. Her husband bought it for her: a birthday present. Sara compliments her on it, and she happily confesses that it was a gift.

He’s good to you.

And it’s true. She sits back down at her desk and bites down on her smile to tamper it a little. She twists her rings around her finger. She cracks open the window to let in the gentle breeze.

There's a split-second of quiet, and it's the birds that make her notice.

They go silent. They usually chirp all day, singing happily out by the trees that line the paths. They're a beautiful choir, and now they’ve stopped singing. She barely registers the change.

Outside the window next to her corner desk, there's a flash of light. She sees something small, black, lumpy and streaked with colour—blue, red, yellow—placed on the front steps of the adjacent building. The president’s building.

She feels the world tip. It may just be the floor beneath her crumbling. Or it may be the force of the blast that knocks her off-kilter, sends her flying.

She's unaware of the world for a moment. But when she awakes, she's crawling, ears ringing, out from the furniture that's cracked and splintered atop her. She watches her own hand tremble, and she hears the fuzzy noise of the sirens sharpen into focus, but she feels nothing. She only thinks.

Help.

Get help.

In the next room, she hears a muffled cry for help. A booming voice, raspy with dust in the throat. She crawls toward the voice. It is all she knows.

Something rattles his blinds while he's hunting underneath his desk for a file that slipped onto the floor. He barely notices the way the objects have shifted on his desktop.

Minutes later, he hears sirens screech by.

There's rustling outside his door, and someone bursts inside. Javier doesn't bother to look up from the file.

“Busy,” he says shortly.

Whoever’s standing there wastes no time with pleasantries.

"There's been an explosion, sir." Feistl sounds shaken. "At the university.”

That gets Javier's attention.

He stands up in a rush, papers fluttering to the floor, his head swimming.

“My wife—"

"We don't know yet," says Feistl.

That doesn't fix his mood.

His mouth has gone dry. Panic sets in, his terrible vision sharpening to red. "Casualties," he manages to get out, his voice a rasp.

"Boss, I don't think—"

"How many casualties?" he demands.

He needs to know. He doesn't want to know.

Finally, Feistl meets his eye. "Three confirmed."

Javier can't stand up straight. He thinks if he lets go of his desk, he'll fall over. "They know who?"

"Police won't tell us shit," says Feistl, a bit bitterly. "Not our department."

He runs a hand over his face. He needs to put his hands around someone’s throat and squeeze until it pops. "Not our department,” he repeats under his breath, planting a finger on his desk like there's a speck of dust he needs to clean. “Not… Mierda... Los hijos de puta... It's my fucking department.” He feels his nostrils flare, an angry bull at the charge. “It’s my. Fucking. Wife.”

Van Ness stumbles into the office, breathing hard. His telephone cord is wrapped around the doorway, the device clutched to his ear like it's glued there. "One more confirmed," he says. "News just said so."

Phones are ringing non-stop in the bullpen. Narcos, they’re saying. Targeted attack. The school president killed in the attack. Attack. Javier's phone is silent. He stalks out the door, shoving past Feistl and Van Ness even as the latter tries to tell him it's no use, the place is cordoned off, he'll never get in.

"Let him go, man," he hears Feistl mutter. "It's his wife."

It's a five-minute drive to the university. Javier makes it in one and a half. He barely shuts off the engine and he's halfway out of the car, sprinting straight past the guards manning the roped-off section with his badge on display.

The damage is ghastly. The university building has a crater in it, the rubble still smoking, the green campus grey and hazy with destruction. There are police vehicles, bomb squad, and ambulances surrounding the area. The air is thick and cloying with smoke. It infests his throat, viscous as syrup. It's nothing compared to how heavy the terror settles inside him.

Javier checks every single one and feels the pit in his stomach swallow another piece of him when he can't find her.

Around the building, there's still nothing. Nothing but firemen pulling bodies, writhing pets, and unconscious people from the rubble. Nothing.

Not the flash of her eyes nor a lock of her hair. Not a thread of the connection that thrums between them. His own heart beats, but he cannot hear hers. He can't feel it. He can barely breathe.

"We got another one over here!" one of them shouts.

Javier's feet carry him to the site. He doesn't remember the journey.

Three men uncover a woman's wrist. It's delicate and bleeding, a blouse stained red.

She wore blouses. She wore one to work today.

He stumbles backward. They keep pulling, unearthing, digging. His hand finds his chest and squeezes over his shirt. He wants to claw out his heart. He's lost his girl. He's lost his wife.

His fucking light.

They find her face beneath the rubble, and Javier wants to throw up.

It's not her.

It's. Not. Her.

"¿Señor Peña?"

He whips around. A man he doesn't know is limping toward him, dressed in a black suit that's become grey from dust.

Javier doesn't have the fucking time for this. "Yeah," he says, short and clipped.

The man is middle-aged, greying, and wincing in pain when he comes to a stop. "Your wife... she found me. Pulled me out of a pile of rubble. Would've suffocated if she wasn't so quick."

Javier's breath escapes him in one punch. He barely manages to ask, "Where is she?"

The man gestures, and Javier follows. The ambulance is surrounded by civilians, some wearing shock blankets, some hacking and wheezing, some on their knees as they cry for their loved ones. All of them look... well, like they've survived a bombing.

And she's there.

She's right fucking there, handing a cup of tea to a crying woman, consoling her like she's the one in charge.

The man stops walking, rubbing his injured knee, but Javier breaks into a run.

He cries her name. He can't help it. He's sobbing like the day he was born as he reaches her, scooping her up into his arms like an idiot because God knows she may be injured.

“Mi amor.” A whisper and a prayer, a bone-deep sigh of relief. The thread between them plucks strong and true, hearts trading beats.

She holds him tightly and begins to cry, too.

"Baby, oh, God, sweetheart, mi cielo," he chokes out, rambling, not caring about making any sense. He's holding her, kissing her everywhere, her cheeks and forehead and mouth and jaw. She's alive and in his arms and she's okay. "Me asustaste. Te amo mucho, cariño. Te amo... "

"Javi," she cries, her face in his neck, her hands in his hair. "I thought I was going to die. Oh, God, I thought… I love you, I love you, I love you.”

They're both a mess, bumbling and pulling each other closer.

"Sweetheart," he says again, wanting to see her, look into her eyes and make sure it's real, "let me see you. I have to see you're okay, baby."

She reluctantly pulls away, and his chest feels so tight it could burst. Her face is streaked on one side with grey and red—her blood, he realises with a dreadful start, dripping from a wound in her temple—and he looks down only to see a horrific bruise from her hip to her mid-thigh. It's so dark it's nearly black, a splotch of darkness tainting her sweet skin. Her skirt has ripped, and his first instinct is to cover her with a blanket so nobody sees her underwear; but he notices most people are missing half their clothes, too. "Fuck," he says, placing a hand on her stomach. "You get this checked out?"

Despite all the chaos, her cheeks warm. He meets her eye and says her name sternly.

Her fingertips brush his tense jaw. "I didn't even notice it until they pulled me out, baby. My adrenaline's still going."

"Yeah, mine too," he says, leaning into her touch. "We're gonna get you to the paramedics. No more saving others."

"Model of the DEA," she says fondly, accepting his arm around her waist. She limps along with him until the middle-aged man blocks their path. Javier is so focused on getting her help that he almost raises his hackles, tells him to fuck off. He won't. He can't be a dick to disaster victims.

"Profesor," she says. "¿Estás bien? "

"¿Yo?" he says with a wry laugh. "Me salvaste la vida (You saved my life)."

Javier kisses her cheek—she isn't bleeding on her left side—and whispers, "Salvadora."

She squeezes the man's arm as they walk past. Javier finds two paramedics talking to one another by an ambulance, a shocked woman sitting in between them. "Mi esposa," he demands. "Ella nesecita ayuda (She needs help)." She gives him a look, and he mumbles, "Por favor."

One paramedic continues speaking with the woman while the other approaches his wife. She nods at him that he can inspect her. Javier doesn't let go of her waist. "It will bleed," the medic says, prodding around the gash in her temple. "Head wounds are like that. But I should be able to clean it and bandage it without any problem. You’re the lady who found Profesor Estrada?"

She nods sheepishly. The paramedic chuckles. "He taught me when I was in school," he tells her. "That was brave, what you did."

"I couldn't leave him," she says dismissively. "He always brings me coffee."

The medic shakes his head good-naturedly, applying a damp cloth to her temple while Javier holds her hair away from her face. She winces, which makes his other hand instinctively tighten around her. The cloth has turned red by the time her face is clear of blood. "We'll need to stitch this. Here's the hard part," says the medic. "Looking at your leg will hurt a lot more. You should probably lie down." He looks at Javier, but hesitantly, like he's afraid. Good. "Would you, uh, like to help her inside?" He gestures toward the ambulance.

Javier nods. He really needs a cigarette. The woman with the shock blanket has left, so Javier lifts his wife onto the ambulance platform and she limps inside, climbing up onto the gurney. She cries out, freezing in place, and Javier's blood chills at the sound. "Amor?" he says, voice strained. "What is it, baby? What's wrong?"

Her breaths are coming out heavier. "My... my side," she says, a hand flying up to the ribs on the same side as her bruise. She hisses. "Oh, shit, that hurts."

Just like that, he's panicking again. "Her side," he says frantically. "Su lado. Revisa su lado (Check her side)."

The medic looks like he'd rather do anything than lift up her shirt while her scary husband's right there, but he does his job. Her blouse is sticky with blood, but it peels away from her side, and Javier feels bile rushing up his throat.

It's a map of black bruises around her ribs. She reaches out for Javier's hand while the medic pokes around, and he grips her so tight it's like he's the one who's hurt. He's terrified. He can't do anything but hold her. He's useless. "I'm right here, baby," he says, kissing her climbing pulse. "Look at me."

She already is, but her eyes are watery. She's lying on her good side, half of her body exposed as the medic inspects the ugly bruises. "Contusions," he concludes. "From the force of the bomb and the fall. You'll need rest and minimal physical activity, but they'll get better on their own."

"What can I do?" Javier jumps in.

"Help her out around the house. Help her up and down stairs if she has trouble walking. Usually, contusions will heal in about a month."

She breathes out a laugh despite the visible pain she's in. "Just be my husband."

"I got you, cielito," he says.

"Señora," says the medic. "I need to stitch you up now."

"Sí," she replies. "Mi esposo. ¿Puede quedarse aquí? (My husband. Can he stay here?)"

"Sí, señora," he replies. The other medic hops into the ambulance and closes the doors. There's already a man in the driver's seat, so it's a tight fit back here with four of them. But they're just looking at each other.

She's shivering with the shock once her adrenaline begins to wane. Javier shrugs off his jacket so fast it rips somewhere, and places it over her like a blanket. "Mi amor," she whispers.

The other medic begins to take her blood pressure, instructing her how to keep her breathing steady even as her eyes are glazing over. Javier wants to tell the man to fuck off, but there's no point in getting angry, not when she's using his eyes to ground herself. "What do we do for dinner tonight?" she asks. "Because I didn't have any time to think about it."

“I’ll pick something up,” he says. “Gotta go back to get my car, though.”

She snorts. “Please don't tell me how fast you drove to get here. It’ll give me a hernia.”

“Quedarse quieto (Stay still),” says the medic tending to her heart rate. She mutters an apology, but Javier frowns.

“Ella está en el dolor (She’s in pain),” he snaps. “¿Quieres que te dé un puñetazo en las costillas y te diga que te quedes quieto? (Do you want me to punch you in the ribs and tell you to stay still?)”

“Gruñón,” she scolds gently. She squeezes his hand and looks apologetically at the medic. “Estás haciendo tu trabajo (You’re doing your job).”

Javier kisses her palm and keeps it pressed to his cheek. The ambulance lines up beside ten others outside the hospital. The emergency room is overflowing with patients, and Javier wants to barrel through all of them to get her into a room. But he knows he can't. She's in a hell of a lot of pain, but she's stable, and most of these survivors aren't. He knows this, but it doesn't make him any happier. His wife is hurt, and he can’t know if there's anything serious beneath her injuries.

The way her breathing staggers when she clambers out of the ambulance lifts all the animal instincts in his body. He damn near growls at the medic whose hand grazes her wounded side as she steps down onto the ground, every nerve screaming to tug her close to him and not let another body within ten yards of her. He kisses her temple and cradles her head when she’s finally upright, pressed against him in a tight hug. Now that they're under the fluorescent hospital lights, he sees the hollow cut to her cheeks, the ghastly cut on her other temple, the way her lashes flutter with the mild shock she hasn't yet shaken. Each breath she takes chips at his heart. He could have lost her today.

He doesn't let himself dwell. She sways slightly on her feet and it knocks the alarm bells around his skull. “Baby, we gotta sit you down,” he says, helping her to a chair. All around them, people covered in dust and blood moan, scream, or pray, all covered in injuries which vary in severity. Her eyes well with tears, and Javier drops to his knees in front of her. “Cielito, please don't cry,” he says softly, swiping her tears away with his thumbs. “What can I do?”

“Just…” She looks at him miserably, her lip quivering. “So much pain. They're all in so much pain.”

Bloody, beaten, and pulled from the rubble of a bombing, and she worries about everyone around her. She's better than he ever could hope to be.

“Lo sé,” he mutters, threading his fingers through hers. “They're gonna get help, just like you.”

“We all could've died, Javi. I almost…” She hiccups, and he knows the shock is gone, the rush of terror and dread flooding her body with the force of a slug to the chest. “Almost left you.”

He shakes his head, sliding his hand up and down her uninjured thigh and pressing a kiss to her knee. “You didn't, baby. You're here with me, hey? Éstas aquí. Aquí, la cosa más hermosa que he visto (the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen).”

She sniffles, tears still streaming through the remaining dust on her face. “You’ve been shot,” she says weakly.

He laughs roughly, realising it’s the first time he’s let himself do so since Feistl came rushing into his office. “You know I’ve never been shot here,” he says. He took a bullet in the leg back in Austin, and never heard the end of it from the other guys.

“Leave it to me,” she says, a smile cracking through the tear tracks on her cheeks. “One of us has to get into the accidents in this partnership.”

“That’s what I always told Murphy. Guy never listened.”

Her laugh is a bit delirious, a bit hushed, guilt prodding her for laughing in the midst of such misery. “Come up here with me,” she says softly, and he sits in the chair next to her.

She curls into him as best she can in spite of her injuries, and together, they breathe.

Sometimes, a thing happens that seems totally senseless. It will happen suddenly, and the fallout will be swift. Out of the cataclysm, misery arises.

It will not make sense until long afterward.

“Señora,” says the nurse. “Estás embarazada.”

Her hand trembles on its way to her mouth. Her fingers prod her lips, recalling the taste of blood, the blast of the bomb, the years of her life flashing in white-hot snapshots behind her eyes.

The nurse goes on some more: the last negative test must have been wrong, she's eight weeks along, there a couple things they should know before—

“¿Ésta… Ésta bien?” is all she manages to ask.

The nurse smiles reassuringly. “Sí, señora.”

She begins to sob. Javier is clutching her hand and kissing her knuckles and whispering to her that they’re all right, they're safe, we’re having a baby. Holy shit. We’re having a baby.

Javier kisses her tear-slicked cheek and nudges it with his nose. “Baby,” he says, grinning. A baby.

“A baby,” she whispers.

The nurse leaves briefly to print off her report for them to take home. Javier gingerly places his hand on his wife’s belly, imagining he can feel a heartbeat there. He's transfixed by the thought of it. It's so real. She's right here, in his arms, safe and healing and pregnant. Christ. She's pregnant. He did that.

“I did that,” he says.

She giggles. “You're a daddy, vaquero. I get to be a mom. Holy shit, I get to be a mom.”

Javier is mindful of her injuries when he gathers her into him, keeping his hand secure on her stomach. He pictures it swelling with his child, a little spot of sunshine that brings a glow to her cheeks and a waddle to her gait. His chest surges with the instinct to protect her, keep that smile snug and safe on her face, provide her and the little life inside her with everything they'll ever want.

He already knows he would kill for this child, the way he's killed for its mother.

This is how things piece together. This is the hope that arises from disaster. A hand on her belly. A whisper. Wounds that will heal. They always do.

#kiwisbell's fics #las mañanas #javier peña smut #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña #javier peña fic #javier peña x reader #narcos #narcos fic #narcos fanfiction

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fanfiction-blep · 1 year

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Does anyone else wonder if pandora has the equivalent of weed *cough catnip* for the Navi? Imagine Miles getting some into his system and his senses just kind of go hazy. Loses control of himself a bit and drops the tough guy act long enough to make known how much he cares about you. Bonus points for stoned out sexed up miles 🥵

PLEASE I love this idea, I did google it. I know they have different poisons they can use to hallucinate, but I love this Concept. And I'll do two parts. One where Just Miles get's high and then one where they are both high as it doesn't sit right with me to write smut where one person is under the influence and the other is not.

That's some plant~ Na'vi Miles Quaritch x Fem/Reader

Warnings: Substance use? fluffy, Quaritch HIGH AS BALLS, soft Quaritch, Quaritch being baby.

Okay I can't think of a specific plot of this would happen so bare with head cannons for now.

Okay so he ingests it as an accident, maybe in the field? Like maybe there is a plant? And you don't have to prepare it, its chemical components can be ingested without any prep and bam. hello 420.

So you know the planet well? And you are teaching the recoms what is safe to eat and what isn't or what will do nothing but taste bad.

Quaritch is down bad okay? he likes you a lot and all this plant stuff isn't his thing he doesn't know how to impress you. Normally he would show off, in whatever way popped into his head but he realised that didn't work for you so he tried to act like he knew what he was doing.

He saw a large plant with a purple stem. large star like leaves five times the size of his head pointing out in every direction the odd flower sprouting. He picked two or three leaves and shoved one into his mouth, it tasted a little bitter but it was damp and once down the aftertaste wasn't bad.

What he didn't know was the best way to take this plant was in a tea, but no big blue simp man wanted to show off, he walzted over to you, already chomping down on the second leaf. Smirking at you. Your eyes went wide trying to grab the remaining leaf from him.

"Please tell me that you didn't eat that" "Ya just saw me eat one, what's the problem sweetheart?" He had pulled his hand into the air and was now lifting his head eating the third leaf. "Quaritch stop!" She wasn't sure whether to laugh or to cry at his impuslive behaviour. A hand resting over you're mouth in shock. It hit him there. You weren't messing around.

"Miles?" You asked placing a hand on his bicep. "How many leaves did you eat?" "Three" He spoke as if he was a child who had gotten caught eating cookies before dinner. "Alright, back to base. Now!" you gestured the rest of the recoms re grouped and headed to the ship in confusion.

"What's wrong did i eat something poisonous?" She stared up at him. "You just ate Pandora's version of cannabis!" "Fuck"

now you would be both mad, but mainly confused, who just randomly eats a plant they have no knowledge on? Miles Quaritch apparently. you would have told the science guys and insisted you would watch over Quaritch yourself.

He would be SO CLUMSY. Imagine him falling into a wall and apologising to it. Or staring at random inanimate objects and having very existential thoughts.

"Do ya ever wonder about the fact we never ask our beds if they want to be laid on?" You would have to stifle your laughter. getting him to his room was a MISSION. Lyle tries to help you. As Miles isn't able to walk by himself. You being a Na'vi you can kinda help him?

But man's is THICCC and even as a Na'vi you struggle to hold his whole weight. Also he doesn't want Lyle helping him. He starts swatting at Lyles hands. Incoherently mumbling at him. "What's the matter Colonel?" "Only want the pretty lady touching me." He would pout and rub his cheek against your head.

he was fucking purring, like actually purring while rubbing his cheek all over your head.

Lyle walked away as soon as you reached your room, you had picked your own room as you had all the medical supplies that you might need in case he has a bad reaction.

Okay so I have this vision in my head off him lifting his arm off your shoulders and trying to walk to the bed and just walking in a zig zag line. and doing a little fist bump in the air when he sits down on the bed.

Okay so you decide to grab him a glass of water, grab a med kit and take his temperature. Imagine him trying to bite the thermometer. Like your trying to put it under his tongue and he's acting like a child. You finally snap at him. "Just let me take care of you!"

"yes ma'am" He would push his legs together and make his back all straight and stare at you with this little goofy grin. You would place two fingers on his neck to check his pulse, and he would lean into your hand!

He's a little goofy baby boy. The whole dom thing melts away, and he just wants to be close to you.

He just wants to feel you, he comes down a little still high off his rocker but he's less toddler like. He gets sensitive to touch. Any fabric starts to irritate him, He starts pulling on his camo and tank top. Overwhelmed by the feeling on his skin yet unable to fully communicate what was happening due to fog in his brain.

You understand and walk over lifting his arms up and pulling off his tank top. You don't feel comfortable with him taking off his trousers due to his situation so you go to his room (Only for a moment) And find him some sweatpants. In hopes that it will make him feel better.

When you re entre the room he gets all excited and smiles at you. "You came back!" He wouldn't get overexcited it was more of a whisper. He would do little grabby hands and pull your hips pressing his face against your torso. Eventually he has wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you into his lap. Face buried in the nape of your neck, breathing in your scent.

"Ya smell soo good" So all his sense are heightened and he has always adored how you smell he has just never talked to you about this. "Miss how ya smell" at this point you give in and you start stroking the hair on his head, Causing him to purr again. The vibrations tickling your chest.

You stayed like this for a while until he fell asleep and you had to lay him down, in a half awake state he would pull you back onto the bed. "Need to hold ya pretty girl" "Don't wanna loose ya"

100% waking up thirty as hell.

Smiles when he sees you left a glass of water next to the bed for him, plus a few fresh fruits.

Fells slightly guilty about his behaviour because he doesn't know you feel the same way about him. He climbs back into the bed because he will be damned if he stumbles back to his room at unholy hours of the morning.

All the guilt melts away when he feels you roll into his side smiling in your sleep nuzzling against the bare skin of his chest.

is going to ask you to try the plant with him for sure, he just has to wait for you to wake up.

#miles quaritch fluff #miles quaritch x reader #miles quaritch #na'vi quaritch #avatar #avatar way of water #fluff

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hope-you-brought-kneepads-bitch · 10 months

Text

Villain Attraction Pt 2

Summary: After leaving Wanda alone with your question you waited for to come back to you, you knew she would do and you couldn't wait, you couldn't wait to show her just how fun being a villain could be

Words: 1,740

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, er kissing, Wanda being a simp for reader because obviously, talk of sex

A/N: Not proofread but we'll just go with it

"What are we doing?"

"Waiting for Wanda" you simply replied

"You know she is coming back?"

You smirked "oh yeah she's definitely coming, give her a few hours Venom"

"Okay, I miss her already"You waited a total of two hours before the door clicked open revealing the beautiful redhead who stopped in her tracks when she saw you staring at her

"Hi..." her voice was quiet but you heard her "come sit my love" you patted your leg but Wanda aimed for seat besides you, when Venom's head formed looking at her

"Wanda our lap is much more comfortable and I do believe that is what Y/n meant"

She rolled her eyes but decided to sit on your lap trying to get comfortable feeling arms wrap themselves around her "I'm so glad you chose me" you nuzzled into her neck and felt her relax turning her head to kiss you on the lips slightly surprising you but you let yourself enjoy it

"She is crying Y/n"

Venom's voice rang in your head making you pull away from the girl looking at her face "Wanda honey why are you crying?"

"Nat said I was a traitor and deserved everything I get from you" her voice crack made you sad "oh Wanda you know Nat can't talk, she was a villain for years in the red room, you're not a traitor, you've just realised you're better off with me"

"It still hurts"

You sighed picking Wanda up when you stood and lead her to your bedroom, somewhere she has been a few times before and she tensed.

"It's okay Wanda I just want you to be comfortable, we won't have sex if you don't want too"

She relaxed again allowing you to place her down on your soft bed and kiss her forehead

"I didn't know a villain could be so soft" she spoke up and you chuckled "only for the most stubborn and hottest witch around, now do you want to sleep naked or in my shirt?"

"Your shirt please" Wanda sat up reaching for your shirt that you had on "this one? Don't you want a clean one?"

Wanda shook her head "noooo I want that one so it smells like you" you just laughed taking your shirt off leaving you in a sports bra which Wanda admired but quickly frowned on seeing some heavy bruising on your abdomen

"What happened?"

You were confused momentarily until you looked down "oh yeah, I did something stupid so Venom won't heal me so I have to deal with the pain"

You passed her the shirt watching her as she took her own clothes off not letting you see her naked for long before she stood up and dragged you to the bathroom

"Are you saying I need a shower?" Your laughter bounced off the bathroom wall and all Wanda did was sigh "I'm going to clean your wound, the dry blood and wet patches aren't attractive"

"I beg to differ, remember when we met after I fought Tony? You were all over me" you kissed your redhead girl slipping your tongue inside when she groaned, before anything could happen though she softly pushed you away "let me clean you first"

You huffed "god Wanda if I had them you just gave me blue balls"

She giggled grabbing a towel and dampening it gently wiping the dry blood from your body and you winced trying to hide any pain, it'd been a while since you felt pain since Venom normally healed you, but after you had been kicked out of the avengers tower you decided to pick a couple of fights with some drunk bar guys, they had refused to heal you, but you guess you couldn't complain now with Wanda cleaning you

"All done" Wanda brought you out of your thoughts and you looked down gasping "wow! Did you rub too hard and get rid of the bruising?"

"It was I who fixed you Y/n, I feel like you had learnt your lesson so I healed us"

You rolled your eyes "thank you for the lesson Venom I appreciate it"

"Do not be sarcastic with me Y/n I can make you pay"

Wanda looked at you worried but you shook her fears off "they don't mean it, if I hurt so do they, they'd be hurting themselves"

Wanda still looked concerned but less so and kissed you on the cheek "will we be okay?" Such an innocent question with a lot of heavy implications, so instead of answering right away you picked her up again and walked back into the bedroom laying her under the covers and tucking her in

"We'll be okay Wanda I promise, not to sound mushy but you're safe with me, you never belonged with the avengers, you belong with me and I'll spend everyday proving that to you"

Wanda was trying not to fall asleep listening to you but her fluttering eyes betrayed her so you rounded the bed climbing in and bringing Wanda back into your body "go to sleep my love, tomorrow is a new day, we'll show the Avengers just who you are"

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

"You looked so hot today my love" Wanda pushed through the door followed closely by you "blood suits your red hair"

You brought her into a deep kiss smearing the blood over her lips making her pull away suddenly

"Blood isn't very tasty baby" she laughed but you just shrugged "it's a sweet taste"

"Hmm maybe I'll get used to it" she kissed you again slightly grimacing at the taste but ignored it when she felt Venom's tongue lick at her lips for permission and she actively accepted

"How sweet" you both snapped back looking at the door seeing Natasha and while Wanda tried hiding away you just smirked at the woman "come for round two? I can keep fighting all day Natty but Wanda might get jealous"

The Russian ignored you and instead pushed through the house and sat down on the couch confusing you, Wanda and even Venom when their head appeared out of your body

"You are not welcome in our house Natalia, you should leave"

The alien growled at the woman and she just smiled "you two need to stop"

Even Wanda scoffed at her request "that's pathetic Nat just get out"

Nat rolled her eyes "come on guys what do you get out of being villains?"

"Have you seen Wanda right now? She's hot, that's what I get out of being a villain, horny Nat okay? That's also what I get out of it"

Wanda couldn't resist laughing and kissed you "I can remedy that later baby"

Nat coughed to get your attention back to her and you rolled your eyes "I forgot you're still here, listen Nat either leave or take your shirt off so I can stare at your chest for a little bit"

Venom sensed something before you did and spoke in your mind

"She is confused Y/n, I think she also wants to be a villain"

You raised an eyebrow looking down at the ground while listening to Venom's reasonings, when you felt Wanda poking you, you had to look up and gasped when you did. Nat had taken her shirt off and was in some not very there red lingerie bra thing

"Uhhh damn okay I don't know what to do now uhhhh Wanda what do I do?"

You looked at the redhead who was now blushing looking at Nat's chest "well at least I know what you're thinking"

"Now what?" Nat simply asked but neither of you could speak properly "I just-i just don't know what you want Nat"

"Something more than what I have now, being an Avenger is okay but constantly being a hero and trying to save the world is incredibly boring, I need excitement"

Nat's little speech had you thinking, it didn't make you sad or feel sorry for her, she wanted to be a hero, plus she did just kick you in the ribs earlier and they still hurt

"Prove it"

She lent her head to the side "what?"

You doubled down "prove you want excitement"

Wanda finally yore her eyes away from Nat and looked up at you "what are you doing?"

You lent down to whisper in her ear "no idea babe but I don't think she'll leave unless I do something"

You looked back up seeing Nat had come closer to you both and you resisted jumping back in slight shock and instead deciding to be bold "you want excitement Nat?"

"Yes"

"Kiss me then, kiss the villain that kicked your ass not more then a few hours ago"

She sighed knowing you were right but agreed and lent forward placing a soft kiss on your lips then pulling away and you frowned "the hell was that?" You ignored her strange look and gripped her hair pulling her into you and kissing her hard, snaking Venom's tongue in her mouth was the fun part when she groaned at the invasion, you loved showing their tongue off.

When she eventually had to pull away from lack of air her face was a picture, eyes wide, hair a mess and her lips swollen "you're a good kisser Nat"

Venom prevented you from kissing her again and it annoyed you "Venom what the hell are you doing?"

"This feels off Y/n I don't think she is being truthful"

Before you had anytime to react you felt the all too familiar feeling of her widow bites piercing your body making you collapse

"Y/n!" Wanda readied her powers but an electro shock arrow hit her back sending her also to the ground on top of you

"Took you long enough Clint" Natasha picked her shirt off of the floor putting it back on watching Clint take the arrow off of Wanda "you seemed like you were enjoying yourself actually, a few more minutes and I would've have to close my eyes"

"Let's just get them back to the compound" Nat rolled her eyes and picked Wanda up slinging her over her shoulder waiting for Clint to get you "Jesus Christ why is she so heavy?"

"Probably the alien, its all the humans they eat"

Clint huffed as he managed to throw you over his shoulder "well the alien needs to go on a diet"

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

#marvel #wanda maximoff #mcu #wanda maximov #wanda maximoff x reader #marvel incorrect quotes #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #marvel au #marvel imagine #clint barton #venom x reader #venom reader #incorrect venom quotes #wanda maximoff x venom reader

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zelphin124 · 3 months

Text

Summer x YN Short Story

It's about time I feed the simps 👀.

Anyway, my short stories won't have any images until I can adequately draw. People don't like the use of AI, I guess.

Time to use your imaginations, you simps.

TW: SUGGESTIVE, PG-13

~o0o~

The ball wasn't as loud as you expected it to be.

In fact, one of the main reasons why you didn't want to come was the discomfort of a loud environment, along with the group of people that would constantly crowd you. Although you would suck it up until the end of the celebration, you couldn't say you enjoyed the mass amounts of people.

You weren't exactly sure what the event even was. Ink Sans had invited you and told you to wear something nice, as it involved people of royalty showing up. When you arrived, however, he was nowhere to be found. You figured he forgot about it... again.

As you stood by the snack section, you reopened the invitation. Apparently, this AU you were in was called SeasonTale. You'd never heard of it, and you didn't have much time to explore before being guided to a fancy palace near the beach. The AU in the doodle sphere seemed odd, too… instead of a single sheet of paper or one island… this AU had four papers overlapping each other, and the island version was expansive and had four sides to it. You wondered if that was due to the four seasons inhabiting one alternate universe.

You sat the glass of your favorite drink on the table before entering the crowd. Maybe Ink was somewhere in the mass of monsters, and you didn't see him. He was way shorter than everyone else anyway. You weaved through the crowd to spot a familiar scarf-

"Pardon me, dear~"

You knew that voice was directed at you. You spun around, looking for the source of the... very soothing and charming voice. You'd never heard someone speak so eloquently, which only grew your curiosity.

You spun around a few times, unable to find the source of the voice until he stepped forward. Immediately, you saw how tall, powerful, and proud this skeleton was. He wore a fancy yellow crown that signified status. His face had many yellow prints, including a star and a sun. You guessed that he usually wore a yellow outfit to compliment his sun-like eyes, but he was dressed in a beautiful royal blue garment that fell to his feet. His pants fell into his long white boots. His eyes were locked onto you, and his smile was always present on his face.

He looked like a king.

You greeted him with a bow and a few chosen words, unable to mutter anymore. Your favorite-colored outfit flew against your body gracefully as you paid your respect. Perhaps he was just a king of the Summer Kingdom, but you had a feeling it was much more than that.

"No need to bow, darling~" he shook his hand. "Being in your presence, the honor is mine."

You weren't sure how to reply to such a compliment as he took a few steps towards you. He towered over you and continued to smile as he looked down. Your face became flushed when you realized his ribs were showing.

"The music will start soon," he extended his hand toward you. "Allow me this dance?"

Although you couldn't dance very well, you figured denying a king to a dance would be rude. You took his hand gently, realizing your hand was small in his.

"Heh, your hand is adorable," he didn't hesitate to grasp your hand before pulling you closer to him. "And so are you~"

Your blush covered your face, and you could not react appropriately before the king swept you off your feet into a rhythmic dance. The only thing you could muster to do was to look up at him as he guided you across the marble floor.

You decided to concentrate on dancing. However, when this man was leading, it didn't seem so hard. In fact, you realized he was perfectly guiding you in each step, making your task very easy as the swaying music continued to gently play in the background.

The murmurs around you hushed quietly. You felt various people staring at you and the king before some of them decided to dance themselves. Despite your wandering attention, the king's gaze stayed transfixed on you.

"What's your name, doll?" His voice as smooth as butter rang through your ears. His smile had softened as his feet still moved gracefully.

You tell him your name with a couple of stutters. The butterflies in your stomach and the heat coming from your face did not help you speak clearly. You were so flustered by this monster's presence, your mind felt fuzzy. Did he put some sort of spell on you? Did someone put something in your drink earlier? Were there-

"What a lovely name for a glorious person," he soothed, his right hand pulling your waist closer to him before twirling you around. "You may call me Summer, skip the formalities."

The smirk that grew upon his face was accompanied by a small chuckle as he continued to observe you. It was obvious he found whatever noise came out of your mouth adorable. Normally, you would find someone staring at you this long to be uncomfortable. But this king, Summer, he was different. You wanted him to continue looking at you. You wanted him to stare, as if you were addicted to his gaze.

To say you felt attracted to him was an understatement.

Summer continued to ask questions about you, always putting in some sort of pet name like doll, darling, sweetheart, sunflower, sunshine, and many more. He constantly flirted with you. Although embarrassed, you didn't exactly want him to stop. He was giving you so much attention, almost too much. It was nice and something you hadn't experienced before.

"Has anyone told you that you're the most beautiful person in the room?" Summer cooed. "Cuz' you are, sunflower."

Finally, your brain was able to function. You asked him what he ruled over, hoping to change the subject.

"I rule over all of SeasonTale, darling~" he smiled as he slowed down, swaying more than dancing. "And you?"

You chuckled in embarrassment, as the only thing you really ruled over was your stuff animal collection.

The sun king laughed in amusement. "How adorable!" He glanced to the side before looking back at you.

You decided to interrupt him by asking him why he was paying so much attention to you. Although it wasn't a topic you would have brought up initially, due to the amount of flirting he did, you were curious.

"If it wasn't by my actions..." Summer paused, twirling his thumbs inside of your hand palms. "I've taken quite an interest in you."

You told him to drop the formalities.

"All of em?" He chuckled before his face got closer to your own. "You... you're stunning... you're stunningly beautiful... I've never seen anyone like you before," he whispered, his voice soft. His grip tightened around you, and his eyes were shining. "My dear, will you give me the honor of getting to know you? I can't let an opportunity like you go..."

The king of SeasonTale was enthralled with you and wanted to get to know you. You thought you were dreaming. You weren't going to let this go to waste. You accept his offer, asking him what he would like to do after the party.

"Oh, not tonight," he chuckled, his hand grazing your cheek as he sighed. "I have too many kingly things to do... What about tomorrow? I can take you to my favorite cafe... It'll be on me, I'm sure you'll love it, my little sunflower."

Your heart was pounding harder than you thought possible. Your face was so red, it was unbelievable. You barely were able to utter the word 'yes' before you hid your face in his chest.

The king chuckled and stroked your back gently. "You adorable little thing~" he smiled before pulling you away to look into your eyes. You would always remember his smirk.

"See you there, cutie~" he cooed, leaning closer to you until you felt a gentle kiss on your cheek. It was gentle, soft, and sent shivers down your spine.

Before you could process what was happening, Summer backed up, winked, twirled in his robe, and vanished from sight.

"There you are!" Your friend Ink came bounding toward you. "I was looking for you everywhere! Granted, I was thirty minutes late... but dang you're really good at hiding in the crowds!"

You couldn't even look in his direction as your own hand traced where Summer had kissed your cheek. You stared at where he disappeared. You were in awe of what had just happened.

He captivated you.

"Y/N?" Ink's eyes became question marks as he stepped in front of you, snapping you out of your gaze.

You greeted Ink before taking his hand to go find Error. Apparently, the artist wanted to annoy the destroyer 'for funsies' as he put it. You glance back at the spot where you last saw the king. You blushed as you saw a note on the floor that he knew he left you.

Cocoa Cafe, 1pm, CoffeeTale.

________________________________

Continue?

YES NO

#utmv #seasontale #summer sans #sans x reader #short story #sans x yn #summer sans x yn #writing #for you #simps #MWAHHAHAAHH

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fadingdaggerr · 1 year

Text

heaven’s gate

pairing: larissa weems x gn!reader (r is only ever referred to as queer, no other specifics)

summary: locking eyes with a woman at a bar and finding purpose in her kiss

warnings (in order): alcohol consumption, making out, smut (thigh riding, fingering, eating out, heavy praise), r is a simp the whole time, so much side character use bc i like making up lil stories about the little people in my head, pretty dialogue heavy in some parts

note: sorry i’ve been gone, i’ve had severe writers block and my birthday was this past weekend so i was out and about. never written smut before so this is different from my usual comfort zone, let me know what y’all think <3 i also tried to keep r neutral as possible to accommodate all presentations and identities :)

the wind whipped against your face as you steadily continued along the sidewalk, numbing your cheeks. the honking of cars and chatter around becoming white noise as you were dead set on your destination, only need at this point to get out of the wind tunnels. an arm looked through yours suddenly, breaking your pace slightly.

“babe, you have got to slow down. these boots are not meant for walking, they’re for attracting,” parker says as he clings to you for warmth, even with his long emerald green jacket on.

you laugh a little, “i’m not freezing my ass off because you chose heeled shoes when you knew damn well we’re in the old district. that means cobblestone streets. i thought you had a college degree?” he shoves you with a laugh, there’s no point in arguing with the truth. he complains the rest of the way, and you just ignore him until he finally stops when the club comes into view.

the vibration of the music could be felt in the floors, on the chairs, at the bar. everything hummed together, music and voices. you took it all in until a rum and coke slid right next to your hand. you nod at the bartender in thanks, turning to take in the club, smiling at the group taking a photo in from of the lavender’s orbit sign with giant smiles and little pride flags in hand. your eyes continue to scan as you bring your glass to your mouth, then double back when a set of eyes connects with yours.

resting against a tall stool, martini in hand, was the most enchanting being you’d ever seen. lips curved into a smirk at your staring, but it didn’t stop you. you allow your eyes to travel down, taking in her short, white dress and her long legs, watching as blue and purple lights sway and highlight her body. your eyes snap back go to hers, returning her smirk before continuing your look around.

you find parker by the pool tables, cheering on the group playing there, not so subtle in his hands caressing one of their arms. you shake your head with a laugh, he was on a mission, just as he had said before you’d left. parker sees you and waves your over excitedly.

“okay, okay so will you play pool with me? and like, help me get them to like me?” he says pointing at the person in bleach-dyed overalls, only a red binder underneath.

“one game,” you say holding up one finger, “i’m not playing matchmaker all night, there’s someone i think i need to talk to by the bar.”

he jumps a little, hugging you, “okay perfect, one game is all i need. then i can help you get some.”

you grab a cue stick, applying chalk as you speak, “i don’t need help. and i think you’ll be a little to preoccupied to help me anyways.”

the object of parker’s affection, max, and their friend arlo, let you break the set. a singular solid ball fell in, putting you into a head start. as the game continued, you told parker what to do so that you could both win and help him with max, which didn’t seem to be an issue. the eight ball was your last in, as you aimed, you could feel eyes on you, burning into your back. turning, you see the woman from earlier watching, new drink, same look in her eyes. you nod towards her then shoot, the eight ball drops into the cup.

parker grabs you, jumping as he holds you, mostly just shaking you like a rag doll. max and arlo shake your hand. deepening their voices to sound all gruff and puffing their chests as they both say “good game, good game,” before breaking and laughing at themselves.

the three step away to get more drinks, and you turn back to where the woman in white had been, but instead she was walking back from the bar, two drinks in hand. she approaches you, setting one drink in your hand. a rum and coke.

“larissa,” she says, “that was quite the game.”

you accept the drink with a smile, introducing yourself, “the game? i don’t recall your eyes being on the cues.”

“perhaps not, but how could they look at anything else?” her words send a shiver down your spine, “let’s go sit, darling.”

you begin moving to find a place to sit down and talk with her. her hand rests on your hip as you walk to keep close to you and not get separated. her touch was electrifying, even through your shirt. you let her sit first, then place yourself next to her, close enough that your legs touch and her perfume fills your nose.

“what do you do for work, larissa?” you ask, eyes looking into hers. you couldn’t see how blue they were before, cursing the dim lighting around you for not gifting you this privilege earlier.

“i’m an english teacher at nevermore, it’s a private academy up in jericho,” she says proudly.

you nod excitedly, “i’ve heard of it! my friend jaya went there in high school since she lived closer to there than byron’s home in rochester.”

her eyes widen, voice nervous, “you know about outcasts?”

you grab her hand, “i am an outcast, i went to byron’s. maybe you know her, jaya o’leary? gorgon, perfect eyebrows despite not getting them done ever in her life?”

larissa laughs, “yes! we had a couple classes together during third year, that’s quite the coincidence.”

“all roads lead back,” you say, mostly to yourself. larissa’s lips form into a soft smile, the hand that’s still in yours tightening.

“what do you do?” she asks.

“i’m a counselor. i run support groups and one-on-ones for anyone in need, we have varying specialists and everything,” you say before you take a sip of your drink.

larissa leans closer, “what do you specialize in?” there’s genuine interest in her voice, and it makes you feel warm and fuzzy.

“queer adolescence and trauma. there’s a lot of kids that need a place to just exist as they are, and home is a confinement cell,” you say looking down into your lap, then back to larissa. she smiles at you, thumb running across yours.

“that’s an admirable profession, you should be incredibly proud of yourself,” her words are so heartfelt that you feel your chest bloom.

“thank you. and for the record, teaching is equally important. it’s a multi-faceted role, you should be proud too,” your eyes are locked with hers, trying to convey that your words are true.

just as she’s about to reply, a scream of your name catches both your attentions. parker’s freckles face popping into view as you watch him bob and weave through the crowd quickly until he stands before you with a giant smile. he almost speaks, but his eyes move to larissa then back to you with a playful smile.

“first of all, nice. second, wow. third, i am going to disappear for a little bit, are you okay here? i can stay if you need me too,” his words are hopeful, but you know his promise of staying is just as true, he’d never leave you if you said no.

“i’m okay, go have your fun and text me. for the love of god, wear a condom. and for the love of your best friend, do not give me extreme details about this later or i will vomit in your shoes,” you say as you shoo him away. he grabs your face and presses a fat kisses to your cheek with an i love you, i love you, i love you, before running off to max.

you groan and wipe your cheek, where did the gloss come from? larissa giggles next to you at the interaction, hand over her mouth. “nice and wow? he’s sweet,” she laughs.

your head hangs low, “that would be parker, the bane of my existence and my assigned ward at this point.” this makes her laugh again, and you almost think you heard angels singing.

“would that be the reason you didn’t come up to me sooner?” larissa prods.

you laugh a bit, looking at her through your lashes, “unfortunately, yes. he needed me to help him win the game so that he could look good.”

her tongue goes across her teeth, “i think it worked better for you, at least in my opinion.”

it’s your turn to lean a little closer now, “well i almost lost because someone, not going to name names, was quite distracting during the final round.”

her hand leaves yours, much to your dismay, but quickly finds its way to your thigh, “oh, i’m sorry. how could i ever make it up to you, almost-loser?” her tone and fake pout nearly kill you on the spot, her touch was making the fire within you burn hotter and hotter.

your hand rises to her neck, caressing her jaw with your thumb. she was so beautiful it was making you dizzy, but you spoke regardless, “i think you’ve already made it up to me just being right here,” you feel her cheek warm under your hand, “maybe i should be thanking you, you might have been my good luck charm instead.”

her lips are only centimeters from yours as she says, “maybe you can repay me then somehow.”

—

her lips were soft, but her kiss was not. her teeth nipped at your bottom lips as she pulled away to breathe, only to pull you back in. one hand gripped her waist, the other against the brick wall behind her to hold you up. her own held you face, keeping you as close as possible. the breathy moans she let out through the kiss made your grip on her tighten, then slide down more, just over the curve of her ass. you pull her hips into you, making another noise leave her.

her lips detach detach from yours, angling her head down, she begins to nip at your neck. you could’ve sworn she was a drug, your own personal aphrodisiac. your hand slides down more, catching her thigh and bringing it to your hip, pressing your hips into hers to give some friction. a noise escapes her at this action, something that makes you need to kiss her again, truly kiss her.

you lean away, ducking your head to catch her lips once again, kissing her with less lust and more intimacy. you savor the way she shivers as your fingers draw little patterns on her thigh as you kiss her, pouring everything into it. she pulls away, panting lightly. your lips migrate to her neck, gentle kisses and nips as you both catch your breath.

through heavy breaths larissa says, “my hotel is only six blocks away.”

your head leaves her neck, pressing a quick kiss to her lips, “my apartment is four.”

your eyes stay locked together, both of you grinning like teenagers. you whip your phone out of your back pocket, opening parker’s contact.

to: park nasty going back to my place. do NOT come back unannounced i was serious about the shoe thing. be safe ily

you shove your phone back in your pocket, hand now extended to larissa. she immediately takes it, weaving her fingers with yours and wrapping the other arm around yours, holding you to her. you’re about to speak to her again when you phone chimes.

from: park nasty ily babe go get some!! and a little more!!!! lord knows i’m about to go back for thirds

larissa reads the message from beside you, laughing at the outlandish text. you groan at it before typing your own quickly

to: park nasty damn give the poor thing a little recovery time u absolute creature. i’m not gonna feel bad for u tomorrow when u complain

you chuckle and put your phone back in your pocket. you look at larissa before you both burst out laughing. she didn’t even know parker but she basically got the full extent of him within one text and watching the two of you interact while playing pool and when he came to you both.

“i see what you mean by the assigned ward thing now,” she says through a chuckle.

you guide her to your street, “he’s a menace, but he’s the best friend anyone could ask for. the descriptive details of his sex life are the price i pay for friendship.”

she just has to ask, “park nasty?”

you cackle, “he decided on day one of us meeting at byron’s that that would be his name in my phone. he thought it would stick, like everyone would call him that or something.”

she laughs with you, “and did they?”

“no!” you laugh loudly, “who’s gonna call a fourteen year old boy that?” she giggles at the story, “but i never changed it because i thought it was so stupid that it was hilarious.”

larissa clings to you and rests her head against yours as you unlock the gate in front of the door, then enter the code to get into the building. you have her step ahead of you, guiding her to your door with a gentle hand on her lower back. she’s back against you as you unlock your door and let yourselves in. you grab her purse and place it on the bench behind the door, then take her coat hanging it on the hooks, along with your own.

just as you look back at her, her lips crash into yours. you immediately kiss her back, hands flying to her hips and holding her tight. hers found their way to hold the back of your neck, blunt nails digging into your skin. you began walking her backwards to your room, staying against the door for a minute as you savor each others touch. you fumble for the knob, backing her in once the door is closed. you’re completely overtaken by her, her lips, her touch, the way she’s holding you like you’ll disappear.

larissa’s knees hit the bed, and she pulls you to her lap as she sits down. you push her back more, laying her on the bed. you lips migrate from hers to her neck, creating more marks to go with the ones from before. working your way down, you press kisses to the expanse of her chest, pale skin just begging to be painted in your affection.

larissa’s legs shift and you suddenly find yourself under her, her dress riding up and exposing more of her thighs. her lips go back to assaulting yours, her hands sliding underneath your shirt to trace the skin of your abdomen. only breaking away to gently ask, “is this okay?”

you smile at her, leaning up to kiss her cheek, “more than okay, i promise.”

her lips are back on yours, your hands are back on the creamy skin of her thighs. she was your new drug of choice, you couldn’t stop the venturing of your hands on her body as her lips and tongue pulled soft moans from you. you need more of her, as much as she’ll allow you.

you shift your hips, raising your right leg to press you thigh to her center, making her lips stutter as she moaned against your chest. her hips instinctually buck against your thigh again, and you hear her breath hitch.

“are you okay? we can stop,” you ask gently, gently stroking the skin of her thigh to assure her.

“don’t,” she rushes out, “i want this, i want you.”

there’s nothing to do except kiss her, kiss her so that it feel like a promise. your hands slide from her thighs to her hips, slowly guiding her against you. she moans into your mouth and your hands move her hips faster, her pleasure was all you could think about.

her moans grew whinier as she desperately moved against you. her forehead pressed into yours as her release grew closer and closer.

“you’re so beautiful,” you mutter, pressing your lips to hers, sitting up so she was now on your lap. the new angle and your words forced a filthy moan from her lips, “and you sound so beautiful. god, how do i deserve this?”

larissa could only kiss you harder, stealing the breath from your lungs. her hips wild against your thigh, the feeling of your hands gripping her hips, it was all too much. your lips found their way to her chest again, you nudge fabric out of the way to kiss along her breasts, gentle love bites that were soothed by your tongue.

larissa’s hips began to falter, moans becoming louder and longer. you flex your thigh more, kissing her as you move her hips faster. her hands grip at you shoulders, eyes screwed tight with pleasure. she was so close.

“open your eyes, baby. i wanna see you, can i see your beautiful eyes?” you ask as you kiss her neck and jaw, biting the skin every now and then, “please?”

larissa’s eyes flutter open, lust-drunk eyes looking into yours. you quickly reward her by pushing her further down on your thigh, making a sweet moan come from her as she looks into your eyes.

“fuck, you’re so beautiful,” a kiss to her chest, “you’re doing so well,” a kiss to her neck, “you can let go whenever you’re ready,” a kiss to her jaw, “i can’t wait to see you fall apart just for me,” a final kiss to her lips.

your words seem to be the undoing of larissa weems. she moans loudly against your lips, hips quickening then stuttering. blue eyes find yours as a long and beautiful song escapes her, thighs shaking. you’re in awe, entirely captivated by her. you can already tell that you’re not going to be able to let her go, your mind had been screaming to keep her close since you saw her. this sight was the only thing that mattered now, pleasing larissa was your life mission.

her forehead drops to yours, eyes shut, breath heavy. you stay there for a moment, unmoving, allowing her to come down peacefully. your raise your arm slowly, gently brushing hair from her face before cupping her cheek. her cheek presses into your palm, and you just have to kiss her. it’s soft and sweet, just a reminder that she’s cared for. she pulls back, eyes opening slowly. all you can do is smile at her, and she returns it gently. your lips find her cheek, pressing a few kisses to her skin.

“where the hell have you been?” she says with a breathy laugh.

you smile harder at her words, “i’ve been right here. guess you’ll have to come to the city more often.”

“or you’ll just have to come to jericho,” she says playfully.

you kiss her softly before speaking, “i have a good reason to it seems. a very beautiful reason at that.”

she pushes you back, leaning over you to press her lips against yours. the dance is slow, meaningful. her tongue grazes your lips for entry, and she’s given it without second thoughts. she kisses with full passion, telling you everything with every movement. she sucks on your bottom lip, making you groan and pull her face closer. all you want, need is her. you whine as she pulls back, and she gives you a quick kiss to appease you.

her fingers begin to lift your shirt up slowly, eyes searching for permission. you grab one of her hands, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. you grab her other hand and guide them both under your shirt, letting her know you’re okay. she strips you of your shirt, and kissing down your chest and belly. her hands find your belt buckle, undoing it quickly while you lift your hips help her remove it. she climbs back up, kissing a trail from waist to your lips. your hands fall to her back, finding the zipper of her dress as she lazily kissed you.

she sits up and her dress falls down, revealing a lack of bra, leaving her in ruined panties. you sit up and your lips immediately find her chest, wrapping around one nipple as your hands traced her body. your tongue swirls around her, leaving her skin with with a gentle kiss before moving to the other.

“god, you feel so good,” she lets out breathily, whimpering at your touch. after a bit she forces your head away from her chest, pushing you back down to remove your pants and her dress, evening the amount of clothing you both wore.

the view of her above you was breathtaking, you couldn’t take your eyes off of her. her hair was messy, lipstick smudged around her face, bruises and bites across her neck and chest. she was a goddess in your presence.

“what are you staring at me for?” she whispers, insecurity well hidden.

“you’re… you’re just so god damn gorgeous larissa,” you pull her down and roll so that you’re on top of her, “i can hardly believe you’re here, that you’re even real,” you kiss her softly. your lips trail down her neck, to her chest, down to her stomach, “and i get to see you like this.”

she pulls you up to her again, kissing you soundly, “it’s hard to believe you’re real yourself. never has anyone spoke to me like this, even made me feel like this.”

you frown at her words, mad at her past lovers for not appreciating her enough. “can i show you how beautiful you are?” you ask gently, nuzzling your nose against her cheek before continuing, “can i taste you?”

she groans at your words, turning her face to kiss you hard, “please.”

you kiss her again, trailing back down her body. reaching her center, you place a light kiss to her thigh, biting the plush surface then soothing it with your tongue. your fingers lightly trace up her legs to hook in her panties and pull them down. you bite your tongue, nearly moan at the sight.

you kiss along her thighs some more, slowly moving closer to where she needed you. you look up at her, “do you want me to continue?”

her hand reaches down for one of yours, and you are quick to follow, tangling your fingers together. she squeezes your hand, “yes.”

you kiss her mound gently, then move to her clit. wrapping your tongue around her, her hand grips yours. your tongue swirls her clit some more before going to taste her fully. your tongue gathers her wetness, you moan into her at the taste. the vibration alone makes larissa choke out a strangled moan. you continue to lap at her, slow, long strokes against her, savoring every second.

a long lick up back to her clit, sucking it gently, working larissa up. your hand that was wrapped around her thigh came to her entrance, slowly pressing your middle finger into her. she moans softly at the touch, squeezing your hand as you pumped your finger slowly.

“more,” she whines, “please.”

you follow command, adding your ring finger when you push back into her again while your tongue plays with her clit. a deep moan leaves her, only egging you on. quickening the pace of both your tongue and your fingers, you feel her legs wrap around you.

you pull back from he clit, pressing a kiss to it when she whimpers. “do you want more, baby?” your only response is a nod and a moan of your name.

your mouth is back on her, only to pull away again to watch her take a third finger. when your forefinger enters her as well, her moans echo off the walls. she pulls the hand she’s holding, wanting for your lips. you keep your fingers in her, letting her adjust as you climb up to kiss her. her arms wrap around your shoulders while her hips chase your fingers, moaning into your mouth. your thumb finds her clit, toying it in circles at the same pace as your fingers fuck into her faster.

you shove your face into her neck, sucking the skin and licking it and she grinds harder against you. she grows frantic in her movements as she gets closer, her walls hugging your fingers.

you move back down, replacing your thumb with your mouth. her moans become more whispers, her breathing shallow. “you can cum, baby. let me taste you,” you whisper.

your tongue and fingers move together at a fast pace, willing larissa to cum. the tight curl your fingers inside her makes her cry your name out as she climaxes. you remove one finger at a time as you slowly fuck her through her orgasm, bringing your fingers to your mouth to clean them. her eyes bore into you as she watches, you watch her in return. you keep your eyes on her as you clean her folds with her tongue, greedily taking every last drop of her.

“you taste like heaven,” you say as you kiss up her body, finding purchase in her neck. you press a kiss to her skin before asking, “you alright?”

she grazes her finger up and down your spine, “more than alright.”

you pull away from her, shuffling off the bed to stand up. she watches as you grab a t-shirt from the top of your dresser and throw it on, admiring you from the bed. “i’ll be right back,” you press a kiss to her cheek before turning to leave the room.

true to your word, you return within a minute, two bottles of water and a wet washcloth in hand. you prop the bottles on the nightstand closest to larissa and move between her legs to clean her up. she winces slightly, still sensitive, but you make it up to her with kisses on her thighs and hips. you drop the washcloth in the hamper, grabbing a shirt for her from your dresser. you lay down next to her, just watching her as she puts your shirt on and lays down facing you.

“you’re welcome to stay, if you’d like. if not, i can walk you back to your hotel,” you say quietly.

“do you want me to go?” she asks at the same volume.

you shake your head against the pillow, “not at all. i’ll even buy you breakfast in the morning, anywhere you want.”

larissa looks at the clock, 3:36 looks back at her, “i think it’s going to be lunch by the time we wake up.”

“ever heard of a diner, gorgeous? they have breakfast all day. you can get…” you look in her eyes, pupils dilating for a moment, “crepes with berries and honey, and a hot chocolate with cinnamon on top whenever you please.”

she stares at you with wide eyes and mouth agape, “how the hell did you know that?”

you laugh, realizing you’d only told her you were an outcast and not what kind, “i’m a telepath, baby.”

she blinks a couple times, “you’ve been reading my mind the whole time?”

you grab her hand, playing with her fingers, “no, i choose when i want to listen in, took a while to figure it out though. i just wanted to know your favorite breakfast, so i just looked for that.”

she pulls you into her, laying on her back to have your weight on top of her, “you are utterly delightful.”

you prop your chin on her chest, “may i ask what kind of outcast you are?”

she takes a deep breath, this was always a dreaded question, but she found herself trusting you with her secrets. she exhales slowly, “i’m a shapeshifter.”

“that’s so cool, i know a couple shifters. parker’s a shifter, but he can only shift to this big ass dog. but not like a werewolf, it’s voluntary,” you say as you glide your fingers up her arm.

“explains the amount of energy he has,” she responds with a huffed laugh.

you giggle at her comment, “i would’ve guessed you were a siren, just from looking at you.”

she smiles, “why’s that?”

“because you’re fucking outrageously gorgeous, larissa. bewitching, truly,” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

you stretch across her to turn the light off before nuzzling into her. you fall asleep to her steady breathing and calm heartbeat, larissa’s arms wrapped securely around you.

—

you wake up in the morning with your face shoved in your pillow, a weight across your back. you crack an eye open, looking down to see a pale hand next to yours. memories of the night before flood your mind, lips growing into a smile. grabbing her hand, you bring it to your lips, gently kissing her fingers. lifting her arm just a tad, you turn and bury yourself in her chest, wrapping your arm around her as well. her arms wrap tighter around you, a yawn passing her lips. you kiss the skin against her neck closest to your lips, mumbling a morning, baby.

she hums in return, snuggling into you as she wakes up. you run your hands along her side, gently coaxing her into the waking world as you press soft kisses to her skin. finally moves by rolling over, trapping you below her, stealing a kiss from your lips. “good morning, lovely,” she whispers.

your peace is interrupted by your phone ringing from the nightstand. she reaches for your phone and and hands it to you, you kiss her hand in thanks. park nasty is calling appears on your screen, you mumble curses as you go to answer.

“what?” you ask.

“good morning sweetheart, it’s lovely to hear from you too,” parker says sarcastically into the phone.

“whatever, i’m putting you on speaker. behave yourself, larissa’s here,” you demand.

“oooo, is that the sexy blonde from last night?”

“yes, now behave yourself,” you repeat before pressing the speaker icon.

“hello miss larissa!” larissa says ‘hello’ back through a little laugh, “anyways, you aren’t going to fucking believe my night. please tell me you’re free for lunch, i’ll be a normal amount of gross i promise,” parker speaks quickly and excitedly into the phone.

you look at larissa as you speak, “well, we were going to go get breakfast- don’t even fucking start,” you can already hear him an snickering on the other line, “maybe you and i can do dinner or something?”

parker suppresses his giggles, “oh, please let me come to breakfast! i need to properly meet this larissa, i wanna hear all about last night’s desser-”

“parker, i will call abuela so fucking help me,” you threaten, and he knows you would.

“okay, okay! but please, let me join!” he drags out the last word, “larissa! please, tell this meanie i can come to breakfast. i’ll be good, scout’s honor.”

larissa chuckles, “yes, you should most definitely join us.”

“larissa please, he wasn’t a boy scout. abuela thought it was american propaganda,” you plead.

“too late! text me where you cuties are going, love you both. bye!” parker hangs up immediately, not allowing room for discussion.

“i’m going to need to stop by my hotel before breakfast, i have nothing to wear.”

you nod in agreement, “i’d offer you something of mine, but it doesn’t really seem to be your style.”

getting up from the bed, you extend your hand to her, “shower before we leave?”

she takes your hand, following you to your bathroom. you grab the hem of the shirt she’s wearing, lifting it up to expose her love-stained chest. she returned the favor, removing your own, as well as your own underwear. she pulls you in for a short kiss, just loving the intimacy of the moment. you both shower quickly, not wanting to leave parker waiting too long, but savor in the closeness and quiet

once you dry off, you hand her her dress from last night, then walk to your closet to pull out a light blue sweatshirt and a sweater. you place the crew neck next to her while you tread to your dresser. pulling cargo jeans out, you slide them on, and your t-shirt is quickly replaced by the thick black sweater. larissa never takes her eyes off of you, shamelessly watching you change, admiring her handiwork across your neck and chest. you catch her staring, and she’s quick to grab the sweatshirt, throwing it on as a means to hide for just a moment.

—

the drive to her hotel was nice, you spent the short journey asking random questions, some pointless and minor, some more thoughtful. favorite colors, worst fears, best birthday present, embarrassing childhood moments, you loved learning about her. you wished you could slow time, freeze and rewind the last fifteen hours over and over again.

she pulls you to her hotel room with your hands interlocked. you gladly watch her go through her outfits with a soft smile on your face, seeing how she pieces together what to wear in her mind. you want to read her, but you won’t unless she allows you to, and even then you’ll likely never ask.

“which do you think?” she holds up a white satin blouse and a white cotton one, and all you can do is blink.

“i think you look best in nothing,” she throws the satin shirt at you, “jeez, woman! i say…” you lean over her bag, spotting a pair of straight-legged black pants, “these, and keep my sweatshirt on. you look good in my clothes,” you smile. she only kissed you in response, before disrobing to get changed for the day as you text parker.

“i can’t be bothered with makeup today,” she grumbles as she laces up a pair of white boots.

you walk around to kneel down to tie the other shoe for her. “you don’t need it anyways,” you squeeze her thighs as you stand back up. “all set, gorgeous?” she nods, grabbing your hand.

—

larissa ends up applying mascara and tinted lip balm in the car while you head to the diner. parking across the street in the pharmacy lot, you jump out to open the door for her, bowing and extending your arm in jest. she smacks your arm playfully before wrapping her own around it.

sitting at table, your let you fingers dance along larissa’s thigh, both talking about random things while you wait for parker. neither of you noticed when he walked in until he slid into the and smacked his hands on the table. “good morning darling, meanie,” he nods to larissa and you respectively.

“so thirds went well i presume?” you say with a laugh.

he nods excitedly, “fourths and dessert too.”

you shake your head as the waiter puts menus down and asks what drinks you’d all like. latte, coffee, hot chocolate with cinnamon, you already knew. you stare at the menu while parker explains the beginning of the whole thing with max.

you turn to the breakfast page, pointing to the crepes for larissa. she smiles excitedly, mumbling to ask you if they have honey, “of course they do,” you say to her with a little smile.

“and so they had me like over the count- you’re not even listening. neither of you, i can’t believe this,” parker goes to smack you with his spoon when you bat him with the menu.

the waiter comes back, and takes your orders, taking a little to much care on larissa’s order. she pays him no mind, leaning on you while she orders, looking at you when you do. he seems to take the hint and quickly walks away, parker’s laugh taking place in his stead.

“doesn’t the fool know a basket of fruits when he sees one?” parker asks making larissa laugh, her hand flying to her mouth. her laugh makes you smile, eyes resting on her face.

“can i ask now?” parker asks, looking at you.

“three questions,” you say with a sigh.

“each?” he says with a sly smile.

“three total,” you say sternly making larissa chuckle again.

“where, how many times each, and are you u-hauling yet?”

your head smacks against the table before coming back up, “i hate you. my place, two and one, and watch your mouth.”

larissa’s head whips to you, eyes bulging out of her head. parker seems to put the pieces together first, because there’s a beat, then a crack of his laughter. he’s nearly struggling to breathe, then cries out when you kick him under the table. he resorts to holding back laughs, wiping tears from his eyes.

“had that much fun, huh?” he looks at larissa, his face turning red from laughter, “oh my god, larissa doesn’t get it. oh my god, please let me stay while you explain this.” you’re want to drown in your coffee cup, you have to explain this with parker across from you while in a public setting.

you duck your lips to her ear and whisper, “i told you that you tasted like heaven, didn’t i? brought me there with just the taste of you.”

you pullback and look at her face, her cheeks go fully red, eyes fluttering. parker is silent screaming at her reaction, you hold your head in your hands. you’re definitely snitching to abuela about his nosiness.

the waiter brings the food, crepes with berries and honey for larissa, eggs with toast and pan fries for you, and waffles with an absurd amount chocolate chips on top for parker. larissa immediately passes hot sauce to you, remembering your comment about loving tabasco sauce. you thank her with a smile, then glare at your friend when he does a little aaaawe.

“are you going to see max again?” larissa asks parker as he shoves half a waffle into his mouth.

he takes a sip of his coffee, “oh for sure. they’re too good not to, super sweet too. they would’ve come along but they had plans at their babcia’s place for lunch.”

you smile at him, “that’s awesome buddy.” you pick up a piece of cantaloupe from your fruit salad and pass it to him to take, he loves it while you loathe it. it just works.

he takes the melon from your fork, speaking while he chews, “what about you two? gonna keep up?”

you and larissa look at each other. you hadn’t even thought about it much, nothing past post-orgasm conversation. you want to say yes, but you don’t want to put pressure on her. she takes your hand under the table and speaks first, “definitely.”

you look at her, “yeah, vermont sounds pretty cool. i could spend some time there,” you turn to parker, “she teaches at nevermore.”

he perks up immediately, “you’re one of us?”

larissa smiles, “yes, i’m a shapeshifter. but i try to keep that a little quiet.”

parker’s grin is huge, dimples showing off, “totally get it. i’m a shifter too, people get a little freaked out by dogs that are five feet tall on all fours.”

larissa’s eyes widen as she looks at you, “you didn’t say he was five feet tall in that form.”

you shrug, “i told you he was a big ass dog.”

parker chuckles, “she was probably picturing a great dane, you moron,” he looks at larissa, “think the grim the harry potter, but lighter fur and better groomed.”

you laugh at his comparison, “sirius black was in prison for twelve years. did you want him to be all fresh and clean?”

larissa just laughs and watches in amusement as the two of you argue over the mauraders, her head on your shoulder, your arm around hers.

—

the rest of the time larissa is in the city, she’s with you. the next three days were spent touring around the city, going to shops and cafes, always ending in either your bed or her hotel’s, depending on which was closer. her departure time was steadily approaching, making you both a bit upset.

she lays her head on your chest, legs tangled with yours, sweat across both your bodies. you take the time to map her body with your fingers, needing to remember every inch of her. she was worth a six hour drive, hell she was worth a six century walk.

“what’s going on in your head?” she asks gently, “i can’t see into your mind, you know.”

you chuckle, kissing her forehead and hugging her close, “i’m just wondering how i can change my powers from telepathy to teleportation. would be so much easier.” she cuddles into you more, hugging you tight.

the next morning is slow, her alarm going off around six, even though she didn’t really need fo be up until seven. she just wanted more time with you. you spend part of your morning just holding each other, soft kisses holding promises. more kisses and hands between each others thighs in the shower, your name spelled on her clit with your tongue, her name falling from your lips as she brings you closer and closer.

you’re enjoying hot chocolate together in the lobby when her phone chimes, the nevermore car was only five minutes away. she looks at you with watery eyes, you bring your hands up to cup her face.

“it’s a six hour drive, whenever you want me there, i’ll be there. i know it’s harder for you to leave, i can organize and do meetings virtually time to time,” you kiss her cheek.

she shakes her head, “you’re job is too important, i can’t ask you to do that. that would just be selfish of me, they need you.”

“baby, i’m only working in person half the week with clients, the other half is all online. i’m a phone call away from any of them, you won’t be stealing me from anyone,” you assure her.

“you have to promise me you won’t sacrifice your job for me,” larissa demands.

you draw an x over your chest, “cross my heart. i’m not sacrificing my job, but i also don’t want to sacrifice you. i’m willing to make this work if you are.”

she kisses you hard, “i’m more than willing.”

you walk her to the car, putting her bags in for her. shooing away the driver, you open the door for her and guide her in. you lean your head into the car, “call me when you get home, okay?”

she holds the collar of your shirt to keep you close, “i’ll probably call you before i even get there.”

you smile and press a sweet kiss to her cheek, “please do, i’m gonna miss your voice.” you clear your throat, “i’ll see you soon, larissa.”

you start to back out of the car when she pulls your collar, pulling you into a long kiss, “better be soon.” she presses one last kiss to your lips before releasing your shirt, letting you back away and shut the door.

the car pulls off, and you watch until she’s gone from your sight. you make your way to your car, exhaling deeply before starting the engine and backing out of the lot.

you’re sitting on parker’s couch, legs draped across max’s lap while you both wait for parker to come back from the kitchen with snacks. community plays on the tv, one of the paintball wars playing quietly while the three of you were talking. your phone ringing breaks the silence, larissa <3 is calling.

“i gotta take this. i’ll be in parker’s room if you need me,” you say quickly to max and you scramble down the hallway.

you click the green answer button, “hey there, beautiful.”

you hear her laugh lightly, “i wanted to call you sooner, but there was horrible service. i’m almost to jericho now.”

“i’m glad you’re safe,” you say through a smile, giddy from her voice, “i’m at parker’s with max, i’m outnumbered here.”

larissa laughs again, making your heart swell, “i’m sorry, lovely. once you come to visit it’ll just be you and me, no being outnumbered or interrupted.”

“don’t threaten me with a good time,” you say, “fuck, is it embarrassing that i miss you already?”

“only if it’s embarrassing that i miss you quite a bit already as well,” she plays.

the bedroom door swings open, parker’s head popping in and pointing at the phone. the second you mouth larissa he grabs the phone and starts talking to her. you wrestle the phone out of his hand, shoving him out the door. “i’m telling abuela!” you yell down the hall, you can’t just hog your girlfriend is screamed back before bringing the phone back to your ear.

“sorry about that,” you say with a huff.

“it’s cute, the two of you fighting over me,” she jokes.

you laugh at her, “pray tell, who has won your affections?”

“park nasty,” larissa deadpans.

“oh my god, i’m hanging up,” you say as you don’t even move to do so.

“no, no, no, no, no. you win, of course you win,” she yells into the phone, “you win over everyone, i swear.”

“everyone? even sarah jessica parker?” you joke, referencing back to her confession of her childhood crush.

she laughs, “yes, even sarah jessica parker.”

banging in the door pulls you from the conversation, max and parker both beating on the door and calling fo you. gimme a second! is screamed at them.

“baby, i gotta go, homosexuals are beating down the door,” she laughs over the line, “let me know when you get to nevermore, okay?”

“i promise. and i’ll see you soon. goodbye, darling.

“bye, gorgeous. i’ll see you soon,” the line beeps as the call comes to an end.

feedback appreciated as always, love you a bushel and a peck <3

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems fanfic #larissa weems #wednesday netflix #gwendoline christie #brienne of tarth

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