#and getting to finish it because it fit the theme so well.... blissful | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tenpintsof-sundrop · 6 months

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Downhill (Preview)

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

cause I went downhill at such steep incline...

Word Count: 2,080

This is a fanfic preview! So feedback and comments are greatly appreciated. Writers always thrive on feedback <3

Warnings: this takes place during Half-Blood Prince - there are mentions of Draco's mission to kill Dumbledore and him being tasked with fixing the Vanishing Cabinet to let Death Eaters into Hogwarts, mentions of Draco being forced to become a Death Eater (mostly against his will, with the emotional pressures of 'family duty'); mentions of death/murder in line with the HBP/DH themes; the reader and Draco are engaged - arranged to be married because they are both purebloods (the reader is an orphan and her only living caregiver 'sold' her to the Malfoys to be married to Draco, but her and Draco have grown emotionally close because of this); mentions of dead animals - more specifically a dead bird (the bird that dies in the Vanishing Cabinet); passing mention of Cedric Diggory's death; general emotional angst from Draco's perspective because he is feeling very trapped and hopeless because he feels that he will not be able to complete his mission successfully and he will be killed (and get the reader killed in the process); passing mention of the reader having lived in New York before she met Draco; passing mention of the reader 'wearing' Draco's jacket (over her shoulders, not putting it on, and it specifically says that it doesn't fit her well); there is an argument where Draco takes out his fear/frustration on the reader verbally and he grabs her arm roughly - this is not healthy in a relationship, but they are both trying to function under severe circumstances (also it only happens for a moment and it's not a pattern); mention of Draco being thin/losing weight due to improper eating (from stress); this part does not have smut but the longer/full fic will have smut once it is finished and posted. I believe that's everything for now.

A/N: This fic is titled after the song Downhill by Lincoln, so if you want to know the vibes of the overall fic, definitely listen to that song. It's a very Draco song with the 'if I meant every word that I ever said, you'd probably question the life I have led' - because in his bullying, he probably has just said a lot of harsh things without meaning them. And in this fic, the reader met him after the bulk of his severe childhood bully phase, so she didn't know that he used to be a very outwardly cruel person. I also love the 'I was born into the world on a silken cloud, and I got bored of the world before I hit the ground' - because Draco was born into so so much privilege and he didn't even realize how lucky he was, and now that his privileged position is forcing him to take on a murder and a lot of undue stress, he wants to go back to blissful ignorance. (Basically, it's such a Draco song, and it really really drove home the themes of this fanfic idea for me.) Anyway, I'm really excited about this fic, and I hope you enjoy this preview!

...

Draco brought you to the back of the large room, and you saw that he had already pulled the tarp off the overwhelming tall, ornate Vanishing Cabinet, so the dusty cloth was sitting in the pile at the cabinet’s feet. Without a word, Draco walked up to the cabinet, moving in stiff mechanical motions as he pulled open the doors. You took a few steps closer to get a better look, realising that he was trying to show you whatever was inside - that must be where the primary problem was located.

You couldn’t hold in the gasp that broke out of your throat when you saw a dead bird sitting in the bottom of the cabinet.

A bright yellow canary laying against the dark wood, belly up and completely still with its soft feathers rustled, a few of them missing. You had seen very few dead animals in your lifetime. Aside from the occasional New York City pigeon, laying on the sidewalk in a similar fashion after running itself into one of the hyper reflective windows of the tall buildings. You couldn’t even stand to look at those for too long. You still felt the same deep heartache while looking at it.

“Oh - oh my.” You gaped quietly.

Draco was entirely surprised when you shouldered him out of the way, letting his ill-fitting borrowed jacket drop off your shoulders onto the dusty ground carelessly as you crouched down carefully in front of him. You then scooped up the small bird in your hands, cradling it gently as though it were entirely precious.

He thought that seeing the state of things, you might start suggesting spells, telling him ways that he could fix the obvious problem. But no - you were soft-hearted. The true problem hadn’t even occurred to you yet, because you were so caught up on the sight of a dead bird. You were emotional, struck by the shock of an innocent animal having its life prematurely ended.

Draco envied you quietly for a moment as you sat on your knees in front of the cabinet, looming in his shadow as you held the bird in your hands. He realised that in order for you to be so startled over this, so heartbroken - it must be one of the first times you had been brushed with death. Draco envied that naivety.

He wished he could rewind to the version of himself from a few years ago. A version that thought not being able to join the Quidditch team because of an age restriction was the worst tragedy in the world. A version that thought he got everything he wanted because he was genuinely deserving of it. Someone who couldn’t see that he was simply a spoiled brat.

He wished he could go back to a version that hadn’t seen Muggleborns slain in his family’s dining room, begging for mercy where there would be none.

When he had first seen that bird sitting dead in the cabinet, a still dead body draped in yellow - for a moment, he had been reminded of Cedric Diggory. Someone so undeserving, lifeless before their time. Used up and gone.

But now, seeing the way you cradled it, fussing over something already dead and unable to benefit from your care - Draco was distinctly reminded of himself, withering and undeserving in your arms.

“Draco, do - do you think we should bury it?” You asked, the gentle croak of tears in your voice as you considered a pointless funeral for the small dead thing.

You suddenly rose up to your feet then, walking around Draco to look for something to wrap the poor bird in - some kind of cloth, or perhaps a small box to place it in.

This caused something inside of him to snap. The way your sweet demeanour ground against his nerves, his worry, his anxiety about everything mounting suddenly as you fussed over something that truly didn’t matter.

Your good intentions would get you killed. That gentle touch, that willingness to help - it would get you on the wrong end of a Killing Curse one day. (Especially if he didn’t protect you.)

“It’s not about the bloody bird, woman!” He growled out, entirely frustrated with your delicate ignorance, your lack of seeing the true point.

Draco turned to you, and grabbed your arm so viciously that your palms jerked and the small, lifeless body dropped onto the floor without a single bit of grace. It dropped against the cold stone so carelessly, as though it were an object that had not once had any life in it at all. You let out another gasp at this, and looked from the dull tuft of yellow feathers at your feet up to Draco’s face.

“Draco!” You cried out, protesting against his careless nature toward the innocent creature.

His fingers were gripping your forearm fiercely, blooming small bits of pain - but you didn’t care. You felt a clench in your gut, distinct guilt overwhelming you. You told yourself that his anger was misplaced. You didn’t have words, especially not while he stared you down so coldly. All you could do was stand tall, and stare right back, even while tears formed in your eyes.

He tightly clenched his jaw.

You were surprised when he spoke again.

“How can you be so daft?” He said, almost choking on the words.

That was when you knew for certain it was misplaced. He had called you brilliant before - it was one of the only things he had said about you that wasn’t sarcastic or backhanded in some effort to deter you. He didn’t think that you were stupid, not one bit.

“Look, you know if I don’t get this thing working-” He couldn’t even finish his sentence before his throat closed around the words, threatening harsh sobs that he was desperate to contain.

Instead, he turned abruptly, letting go of your arm - now completely uncaring of the misplaced conflict. You felt a wave crash into your chest as you realised it. How could you have been so stupid?

Of course, he had no care for a small animal.

It was about what that animal represented. His failure. Death looming over his head.

The bird had obviously died in the cabinet, which meant that a living thing had yet to survive the transition from Borgin & Burke’s into Hogwarts. If Draco couldn’t fix that problem - if there was some sort of problem when the Death Eaters tried to use the cabinet to get into Hogwarts and one of them died, Draco would be on the line for it. If they couldn’t use the cabinet at all, Draco would be on the line for it.

They would kill him if he couldn’t get this right.

Draco moved slowly, putting a hand on each of the cabinet’s doors and closing them.

Then, for a few long, painstaking moments - neither of you said a thing.

Your chest ached. You wished that you could find something comforting to tell him. For some reason, you knew that simply telling him ‘it’s going to be okay’ just wasn’t going to cut it. You muddled in the silence and you hated it.

He stood with his back still turned to you, with his arms outstretched, leaning on the tall, imposing wooden object. It felt like a shadow of death looming over the two of you. His shoulders held nothing but pure tension, even as he used the object for support, and he dropped his head between his spread arms.

After a few moments of that terrible silence, with you staring at his back, tossing your mind for something helpful to say as you chewed at your own lip - Draco took in a shuddering breath. Though you knew he was trying to hide it: he began quietly sobbing.

You couldn’t help yourself then.

It was something you knew he pretended to hate, but you knew what to do next. You stepped forward, over the dead bird, your shoes quietly clacking against the stone - and you settled yourself right up against his back, tucking your body tightly against him in a hug. You nuzzled your face into the tense muscles of his shoulders, and as you wrapped your arms around his waist from behind and squeezed him tightly, you felt some of the tension melt away as he relaxed into your touch.

You did worry about how much thinner he felt in your arms than the last time you had done this - obviously, he hadn’t been eating properly. But you didn’t bother to bring it up, not wanting to start another argument.

Draco felt a grateful warmth spread over him. But he refused to touch you back. At least just yet.

He kept his hands on the wood of the cabinet, almost like a bold surrender that he wouldn’t give into your softness. He couldn’t. He let out another shuddering sob - a sound he couldn’t contain with the feeling of your warmth at his back. It was something he hated himself for.

You hushed him gently. And then, miraculously, you found words.

“We could leave.” You said quietly, turning your head so that your cheek sat parallel with his flesh, muttering the words against the fine silk of his button up shirt. “We could just… run away together. We don’t have to stay here, Draco. We could get to a fireplace and Floo out of here, or-”

“We can’t.” Draco replied, his voice just as quiet, throttled by tears. “You know that we can’t.”

You wanted to argue the point more. Obviously, he didn’t hate the idea. He just thought it was illogical. Likely, he thought it was too dangerous. But what was the alternative - possibly being killed anyway?

“If we leave, they’ll kill my parents because I couldn’t complete my mission.” Draco sniffled quietly. “At the very least, they’ll haul me in and have my head for being a traitor.”

Draco straightened his stance then, taking his arms off the cabinet. You thought that he might remove your arms from his waist, finally rejecting your touch. But instead, he began tracing fingers from his right hand along the forearm of his left sleeve, almost scratching at it like it was a terrible itch.

You had been there the day he had gotten the Mark. You had been brought into the room and forced to listen to his screams of pain before you even truly knew what was happening. When you had tried to comfort him about it, he had pushed you off so roughly that you had almost smacked your head into one of the walls, and you knew that he was taking that fear and pain out on you in that terribly misplaced way.

But that night, when he had been crying, sobbing and running the freshly scorched skin under cool water - he let you run him a bath with soothing soaps and the two of you discussed Shakespeare’s plays (which you were surprised that he had read) while you washed his hair for him.

“Now that I have the Mark, I can’t run anywhere.” Draco muttered quietly. “I can’t go anywhere I won’t be found.”

That part had never truly occurred to you before.

You knew that the Dark Lord used the Dark Mark as a way for his followers to show their loyalty, and as a way for him to summon them or even for them to summon him. And you guessed that Draco having it meant that he could be ‘summoned’ at any time as a part of the loyalty he had so unwillingly pledged.

Even if he betrayed the Dark Lord morally, mentally, emotionally, and tried to do so physically by running away, as long as his arm was attached, he would still be in service to that horrible man until he and his followers decided otherwise. Especially because you couldn’t imagine Draco wanting to part with his arm anytime soon.

“We’ll figure something out.” You told him, having little faith in those words yourself. But you knew it was a truth that you had to speak into existence.

Then you laid a gentle kiss on his shoulder through the fabric of his shirt, spreading more warmth through him. He clenched his fists at his sides, highly resisting the urge to reach for your hands, but silently hoping that you wouldn’t pull away.

Draco resented your sense of hope. But these days, it was the only thing keeping him afloat in the chaos seas that his life had become.

...

Remember, if you want to see the full fic when it comes out, make sure to follow my fanfiction blog @sundrop-writes and turn on notifications there!

Also, this fic is going to be a prequel to the fic I have already written - My Bleeding Heart, so if you liked this, definitely check that fic out.

#sundrop writes #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #harry potter fanfiction

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yuta-nakamots · 2 years

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your top 5 all-time fav nct fics of your own & snippets of inspiration for them? :)

i know you said ‘snippets’ but like i couldn’t really pinpoint just one moment so here are my top 5 works for nct (in order) with my inspiration behind them:

1. Everybody Talks - L.Mark: i think this originally stemmed from me dreaming that i was hanging out with mark at home on a hot summer day in the early 2000s and we were just watching stuff on tv. then when i joined the collab and got my playlist i rediscovered my love for the song ‘everybody talks’ and wanted that to be the vibe for at least one section of the story. pure bliss of being with mark and having fun with him. also in the playlist was ‘loneliness for love’ and ‘the spins’, both of which i hadn’t previously heard about but found really fitting for mark’s storyline. i honestly just put the songs in chronological order and created a plot that went through the songs. i’m really happy with how this one turned out and i’m glad that so many people love it too.

2. Stuck With You - L.Taeyong: i wrote this in the peak of covid and quarantining back when taeyong was also much higher on my bias list. originally, i was inspired by these two instagram reels (one, two) that made me think about how nice it would be to be stuck with him for quarantine so i was planning on writing a short little fic as a little slice of life. but then i joined an event to celebrate his birthday and i also joined an event where the theme was traveling so i kinda just combined all three ideas into ‘going on a vacation with taeyong to celebrate his birthday’

3. Crush - N.Jaemin: i spontaneously joined a collab because one of the writers had posted saying they really wanted a writer for jaemin so they could finish the collab so i jumped on the opportunity. this one, similar to my mark fic, was written based off of a song, ‘crush’, hence the title. at first i thought of keeping it happy and ending it with the reader getting together with jaemin but the song pushed me in a more angsty direction so i just went with it. one of the other songs that someone else got was ‘let’s fall in love for the night’ and man i became obsessed with it after my first listen and i so badly wanted that to be my song instead. when i got tired of ‘crush’ i would switch to that song and i think that’s what really solidified the angst because i wanted to mirror both songs.

4. Playing Games - N.Yuta: this is yet another piece that was inspired from songs and a collab. this was my first ever nct fic, my first smut, and my first long work so i like the think that it was purely my love for yuta that caused this fic to be written so well. i used so many cliche tropes that it’s nearly embarrassing but like, we all have to start somewhere yknow. i wanted to do things that were tried and true before branching off to find my own style. i think the songs that really drove this piece would be ‘playing games’, ‘slow dancing in the dark’, and ‘honesty’.

5. Say It - X.Dejun: this one has the most unique origin story for sure. the collab was based off of tarot card readings which were given to us by the collab organizers and the cards i were given were honestly quite negative. i didn’t know what to write at first but i decided to model it after one of my own failed relationships and included a few moments from my memories with my ex as an act of catharsis. though i really just went off the readings the cards gave, so i do owe much thanks to the collab hosts.

ask me my "TOP 5" anything!

#answered #ask game #tyong-blr

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dreamkidddream · 3 years

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Congrats on 200💖 can you do quote no.6 for chuuya 💘

Thank you ♥️♥️ and of course! This made me simp even harder if that’s possible lmao. Reader is gender neutral

TW: Minor cursing and minor mention of suggestive themes, but nothing extremely graphic is mentioned

Prompt: “I want to marry you.” with Chuuya!

“Hey.”

You looked up from where you were laying on his chest. You both had such a long day, and you were so sore and blissed out from...previous activities that you barely moved your head. “Hm?”

“I want to marry you.”

Well that was enough to make you choke on your spit and shoot straight up.

“HUH?”

“I said I want to marry you. Is that a problem?”, you thought he was gonna be loud and chew you out, but he didn’t. If anything he looked calm, speaking softly. Did he really mean it?

“You-you want to...marry me?”

“Of course I do, I would be stupid if I didn’t,” he gently started to rub circles into your sides. “Why would I not? I mean you’re already mine but I want to show you off with my last name, let people really know who you belong to. Besides, you deserve to have a ring on your finger. A ring that I buy you,” he paused. “Do you-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence. Absolutely, I want to! More than anything in the world! It’s just,” you took a deep breath, “would we have the time to with work? I rather not be bloody and bruised on our wedding day.”

“So let’s ask Mori to give us some time off. A well deserved vacation for constantly working our asses off.”

Was he being serious about this? You would be a liar if you didn’t say you dreamed of this moment before (as cliche as it sounds), and it has crossed your mind more than once. Just seeing him in a well fitted tux, hair delicately falling on his shoulders, looking at you with so much adoration in his eyes. It always made you want to tear up, because that would be the day that your love will forever be solidified (even though you both love each other now, it was just a different feeling when you’re actually married).

Chuuya grasped your chin, “I have a lot of regrets that I have to live with, and I don’t want not doing this to be one of them. You already make me the happiest man, you make me feel whole,” he sucked his teeth, a bright blush crawling on his face, “I don’t want to propose to you like this damn it! No way!”

You felt your eyes tearing up, hands trembling. “First thing tomorrow I’m asking- no, telling Mori that we need a vacation! If I’m doing this, there is no way that I’m half-assing. You deserve the best, (Y/N), so I’m doing this right! We’re going somewhere out of the country, on a private island, just the two of us. No Mori, no Mafia, no Dazai, no one to interrupt.”

He held your hands gently, and latched them with his, “I gave this a lot of thought. Let’s get married when we leave (Y/N). So that you can come back as a Nakahara. Let me give you the world, since you became mine.”

You were full blown crying at this point.

“Shit (Y/N)! I didn’t mean to make you cry!”

“Chuuya they’re,” you sniffled wiping at your eyes, “they’re happy tears!”

“Yeah but you’re suppose to cry happy tears when I’m down on one knee, not now!”

You tackled hugged him and brought him down with you, laughing and crying all in one (and you could see him smiling wide too). You were beyond ready to become a Nakahara, and if you could expect the same Chuuya that’s you’ve been in love with now, you’re more than excited to spend the rest of your life with him.

#bsd reader insert #bsd chuuya x reader #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs reader insert #bungou stray dogs x reader #chuuya nakahara #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x reader #bungou stray dogs #bsd #dream’s 100 + 200 followers prompt special 💙

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joannasteez · 3 years

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𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍: 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: EZ Reyes x GradStudent!Reader

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: Dedicated to my fav @appropriate-writers-name because she deserves>

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: Mature Themes.

Credits to the gif maker always @hvitserkk

Based on this post

Trying my hand at writing a headcanon... hopefully this isn’t long winded but if it is.... I don’t think that’s an issue right? The more EZ the better lol!

Also... thanks for 500 followers💋

☠︎

Nocturne No.1 in B Flat Minor rides on the air that flows around you like a whisper, the soft piano lead melody slipping over your ears in a delicate manner that calms the atmosphere of the room. It’s perfect music to write to.

But it doesn’t stop the cramping in your fingers, the ache dull because your muscles have gone numb and taut but you can’t stop writing, for God sakes as your mind runs and rambles you have to keep going or run the risk of losing your train of thought.

There are books and articles everywhere, scattered along the sheets in a manner that is dysfunctional to the point of perfection. The mess makes sense to you of course but it’s dysfunctional nevertheless, a tangible representation of the clutter your mind is in at the moment.

Whoever thought of Grad School as an idea can go to hell.

Who ever thought of 15 page papers can go to hell as well.

Just as the music breaks for a moment and a half, the intensity of the piano suspended for the tiniest second of eternity, and in that suspension of sound, your stomach grumbles obnoxiously. A ripple in your abdomen and a dryness on your tongue.

But what’s food when there’s work to be done right?

There’s a jangling sound at the door and for a second your fight or flight takes hold, reducing your flesh to goosebumps, your heart sinking at the possibility of someone attempting to break in..... and then you realize, if they have a key, then you’ve given it to them.

You know exactly who it is, heavy footed steps thumping against your floorboards.

“I gave you that key for emergencies”.

Ezekiel’s in the doorway of your room, a bag of something savory in his hands.

“It is an emergency if I haven’t seen or heard from you in three weeks”.

Your face scrunches, trying to recall where the time went... It hasn’t been that long has it? It couldn’t have been.

“Yes three weeks.... I counted”, he grumbles. Resting the food on your dresser and coming to the side of the bed.

He kisses you, lips chasing yours with a hunger that is unyielding, the build of his body nearly forcing yours to lay against the sheets, and it almost does, till a paper crinkles and you remember what you were doing. You push him away.

“I’m sorry baby but bad timing, I have to finish this”.

He huffs, neediness rising in him to such a point that it tingles all over his body. Not having you in ear or eye shot for three weeks was more torturous than he wanted to admit. He wanted to lay up under you, feel your kiss, hear your voice; the whispers, the whimpers, the moans, the laughs, the sweet rasp of it from the morning, the sultry form it took when he’d had you spread and ready for him, the sweet melody of it when you sang doing random things around the apartment. He just wanted to hear you, feel you, have your fingers delicately trace his chest in the relaxing way that you do at night. Fuck he missed you.

“You can’t take a break?”

Your eyes cut to him “No I can’t”.

“The papers probably not due till next month”, he accuses.

And he’s right, but your inspiration for this course hasn’t struck you the way it has now in months, all your thoughts and ideas need to be written now, and not burned to flames by the mood EZ is about stir up which you’ll no doubt fall into if you don’t put a stop to it before it starts. He’s got that way about him, it’s uncanny, but sneaky nonetheless.

He starts out with an innocent kiss to your lips, chasing and prying them open with his tongue, and in between these he’s whispering things that make you fall deeper into his little trap, that husky tone dripping into your ears and making your body pliant against the bed.

Something like, “I love your lips hermosa”, “they’re so soft”, “they feel so fucking good against mine”.

You moan in response, like a reflex, the functions of your body laden with the urge, the need to fulfill desire. Your mind can’t keep up and by the time it does he’s got you so far gone. Right where he wants you.

He’s a good trouble you can’t afford to indulge into right now.

EZ gets rid of his kutte and the t-shirt lying beneath.

Fuck! Ok maybe a little indulgence wouldn’t hurt.... right?

Your finger points at him in a way to warn him, “30 minutes, that’s it”.

“An hour”, he argues back. 30 min is BS and you it.

“Fine”.

He’s all cheesy now, rushing the papers and your laptop away neatly enough before he’s laying at your side, attacking your lips with a satisfied groan, the thick rugged feeling of his hands running over your thighs, purposely overwhelming himself with the feel of you to sate the teeming desire he feels but it isn’t working. He needs more. He’s lavishing your mouth with slick tongue kisses, those stocky fingers running warm strokes over the inside of your thighs, pinching and pulling the flesh as he nears the thin cover of your panties.

Three weeks out of action and away from him has you breathless, your body sensitive and fast to respond.

He’s at your ear now, tugging at the shell of it with sharp teeth. “I fucking missed you baby girl”.

You moan at the name, voice airy. “I missed you too”.

He’s got your legs wide in swift motions and with the pulling sensation of his eyes, he’s drawing you into him to be fully consumed. Your stuck in them, falling deeper and becoming less conscious of where you are. Anything that isn’t him no longer exist. You’re completely done for.

Has it been mentioned yet that Ezekiel is a tease?, a man with the ability to manipulate your nerve endings to such a degree that they are now permanently susceptible to his every whim? Well if not mentioned before, let this truth be known now as he demonstrates it, the loneness of his thumb giving your slick slit slow rubs once your underwear are out of the way. His lips twitching up to a sly grin as he watches you squirm.

He’ll deliver you to your release slowly first, present you to the highest peak of bliss with measured thrums of his thumb, the pad of it delivering lazy circles to the wet flesh of your clit. He’ll draw it out of you, root up those pretty, wispy sounds that he likes first because they make his heart swell with pride. Only he can have you like this, writhing against the sheets in delirium.

You roll your hips, desperate for friction, his eyes trialing to the slick pink of your opening. The lewd slip of his finger against you puts a sinful spark in his eye, tongue peaking out to wet his lip as he watches you drag your hips lazily. “Fuck that shit is pretty”, he groans, laying a little slap to you that has you gasping for air, your fingers rushing up under your shirt to pull at the hard peaks of your chest. When you respond with the deep grind of your hips he does it again, laying another teasing slap to your bundle nerves making you whimper. Your head falling against the pillows as your spine arches.

Your voice is ragged as it leaves. “Don’t tease Ezekiel, I can’t take it”.

His eyes go to your fast, and they’re dilated. Completely blown. “Yes you can. You take whatever I give you, you hear me?”

When you don’t answer right away, he gives your clit another slap, a little harder this time, and it has you answering in a quick succession of yes’s.

He delves a finger into you, curving the digit as it glides out, eyes peeled again to the way you’re taking in the tanned finger. The feel of you is constricting, desperate for him not to leave. When he reaches to add another you arch high off the bed, the hook of them reaching that deep place in you that makes the darkness behind your lids go all white and splotchy. He loves the response, he lives for it, for you. “That’s it mi amor, you’re squeezing my fingers so tight. My pretty girl is being so good for me yeah?”

“I’m always good for you”, you purr. Your hips grinding as he gives you hard hitting thrust.

He moans at your answer. Gearing up to add to your pleasure. “Can you take another finger mama? Can I give you another?”

You nearly sob. “Please”.

The fit is tight, a slight ache of pressure at the fullness but you’re floating now. Completely gone as he works you up to that blissful peak.

“Look at me”, he calls but you don’t hear him. Hips rolling on auto pilot.

With the idle hand he’s had laying at the side, he reaches to grab your face, placing a number of teasing and gentle wet kisses to your lips as those fingers stroke you deep. The juxtaposition is jarring to your body, something in your belly fluttering before it spreads through your skin.

You’re so close.

He’s holding your eyes with his again, giving your hairline soft sweet caresses as he stares into you deep, searching for your soul to claim as a personal possession and all the while those fingers are tormenting you with lewd thrust, the wetness of them making obscene noises that fly into the air, the impact of them causing tears to slip from your eyes to your cheeks. Your eyes are glassy as he fails to stop delivering you to that release, a new droplet falling when he guides his thumb back to that glistening nub.

“Oh my God”, you whimper. The knot in your belly threatening to burst.

As the tension builds the tears flow, your body overwhelmed to such an inexplicable degree, and all the while he maintains eye contact with you. Irrevocably enthralled in the way you’re responding to the things he’s doing to you. Your body loves him just as much as your heart does, responds to him just as much as your mind does. He’s got you delirious off his three fingers but you’ve got him wrapped around just one of yours.

“Come for me hermosa”, he rasped.

And you do, convulsing against the bed. His body beside yours, guiding you through the amazing mess of your release.

#mayans mc #ez reyes #ezekiel reyes #ezekiel reyes x reader #ez reyes x reader #ez reyes x black!reader #mayans headcanon #long headcanon #ezekiel reyes x black!reader #ez reyes x poc!reader #joannasteez

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astro-rain · 3 years

Text

delicate; b.barnes

chapter eighteen - “dwindling mercurial high”

delicate masterlist

word count: 2.4k

synopsis: bucky and the reader get interrupted during a compromising moment and their relationship undergoes a major shift.

pairings: bucky barnes x fem!reader

warnings: mature content - sexual themes

He woke up without a trace of a nightmare. So this, this is what real sleep feels like.

It took him a moment to come to, memories fitting together like puzzle pieces to form the realization of what happened in the previous hours.

First, he remembered the scent of her hair filling his lungs. Something fruity - maybe coconut.

Next, he remembered her body heat. Skin on skin never felt so good in so long. Normally, he didn't like people to be so close to him, memories of pain inflicted and open wounds usually came too close to the surface. But with her, when she was close to him, his brain just went foggy and all he could feel was her. She made touch start to feel good again.

Then, he remembered the taste - the blissed out, love drunk flavor of her mouth.

Did that really happen? It was almost hard to believe. He hadn't "done it" in literal decades. He tried not to worry about his... performance. Although, he supposed he did well enough as the image of her back arching was seared wonderfully into his brain. He could be wiped and brainwashed a hundred more times and he didn't think would forget that. Or all the new and different ways she said his name.

That last thought woke him up like ice water. He sat straight up, quickly inundated with confusion as to the empty space beside him.

"Hey."

He turned to see Y/N sitting on the floor next to his bed, fully dressed and with a sheet draped over her shoulders.

Oh. She was still here. She didn't leave.

The sight of her like this was one he wished he could take a snapshot of in his head and keep forever: hair slightly tousled and makeup a bit smudged. But relaxed and pleasant; charmingly authentic and natural. He was grateful. Grateful that he got to see her like this, grateful that he got to wake up next to her, and grateful that she understood that he didn't want to take his shirt off because of the scars.

"Hey. What time is it?" he asked noticing the lack of light around them.

His voice was raspy after sleeping. She liked it. Almost as much as she liked the feeling of his stubble tickling her skin: her neck, her cheek, her inner thighs...

"Still today, just later," she blinked. "Some time in the evening. Maybe seven?"

"How long have you been up?"

"Not too long," she shrugged. "I didn't want to wake you, but I didn't want to leave."

"Glad you didn't," he commented, then stifled his own laughter at the realization. "Did we just nap... after..."

"Yeah, I think we did. Tend to get a bit tired after going for that long," she smiled sheepishly.

She could've sworn she saw him blush.

"Couldn't help it," he grinned. "I mean, look at you."

Smiling, she rolled her eyes. "You're sweet."

"All you, sugar," his hand found the back of her head and brought her lips to his.

She maneuvered onto the bed without breaking contact. She nearly felt dizzy. Christ, this man could kiss the soul out of you.

For a brief moment, she removed her lips, resting their foreheads together and finally getting a breath in. "Don't start something you can't finish."

"I have every intention to finish."

Slowly, she nudged his nose with her own and he thought he might die on the spot. He could get her going if he tried, but all it took was a tiny expression of endearment from her and he melted. The way she showed affection was so gentle, so soft, so loving. It drove him crazy. Then he had to kiss the soul out of her.

"Oh-!"

They both startled, alarmed bodies turning to the source of the sound. Both jaws dropped, both pairs of eyes widened.

"I'm sorry! I didn't- I'm sorry!" Steve stuttered before hurrying outside.

The two stared at each other in shock, paralyzed in a moment of recognition at what just happened. Then reality set in and Bucky dashed out after Steve.

She sat alone, stunned.

Fuck.

"You've gotta be kidding me," Bucky huffed, catching up to his friend.

"I said I'm sorry! I didn't know she was with you!"

Bucky wiped a hand over his face, frustrated. "Yeah, well she was. So thanks for that."

Steve placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Look, I'm sorry for interrupting. But it looks like the incident the other day wasn't so bad after all. It turned out pretty well."

"How long were you there for?"

"Not long, but I did end up hearing something about intending to finish," Steve had a shit-eating grin on his face.

Embarrassed, Bucky groaned and smacked Steve's hand off his shoulder. "Jesus, fuck."

"Hey, nice new arm by the way. I'm sure it came in handy."

"I will kill you. I will do it right here, right now. And no one would find the body."

Steve put his hands up in mock surrender, laughing. "Okay! Sorry! But you did... sleep together? Right? I'm not misinterpreting the... sexual tension I just witnessed?"

"Yes, asshole. I did. But that was the only time. It hasn't been an on-going thing. That... was the first time."

"Since the forties?"

"Well-... yes-"

Steve smiled genuinely then. "How was it?"

"I'm not givin' you details!"

"I don't want details! I just mean... it's been a while," he shrugged. "Maybe you're a little outta practice. Was it nice at least?"

Bucky looked down, the corners of his mouth turning up now that he was thinking about it, thinking about her. "Yeah. It was very nice. And I'm not outta practice..."

"Aw man, I haven't seen that look on you since forever ago! I'm happy for you! You're blushing, look!"

"Shut up," he grumbled, though he wasn't actually annoyed.

"Hey, it's a good thing. She's smart, she's pretty, she-"

"You can't tell anyone about this," Bucky cut in.

"What?"

"Don't tell anyone she was with me. Please. It has to stay... low-profile."

"Why? Is it some secret or something-"

"Yes, Steve. Yes. It is. She's been wiggin' out about personal versus professional relationships and if something happens - something like this - she could end up leaving Wakanda. So please, just... act like you never saw anything."

"Oh..." Steve said, absorbing this new information. "Okay. You got it. My lips are sealed."

"Thank you," Bucky gave his best friend a quick hug before making his way back.

"Just for the record though," Steve called and Bucky turned around. "Since you two have gotten... closer, you've been more like yourself than I've ever seen you. I like her."

"She thinks you're pretty cool, too."

"Oh, yeah? What'd you tell her about me?"

"Only the good stuff," Bucky smiled.

"Sorry about that," Bucky said walking in back towards the bed where Y/N hadn't moved from. "Didn't mean to up and leave."

She looked the exact same as when he left, like she hadn't moved a muscle. She looked up at him when he came in, but didn't say anything. The look on her face told him enough. In a mere moment, he was right beside her.

"Hey," gently he cupped the side of her face, voice soft and concerned. "Hey, what's wrong?"

Slowly, she backed her face away from his hand.

In an instant, he was saturated in self-consciousness. She never evaded his touch. Had he done something?

"Bucky..."

There was nervousness in him. A lot of it.

"What? What... what happened?"

"We've... made a mistake..."

He bore into her eyes, searching for something, anything. What was going on? She looked almost scared. And sad. Did she regret what they did together?

"What do you mean?"

"Steve. He saw."

The tone of her voice was frightening him. It sounded so detached and hollow.

"Yeah, but- it's fine. I talked to him. He's not... he's not gonna do anything or say anything. Promise."

She looked down, somber. "It could've been anyone..."

"But it wasn't. It was Steve. So it's okay. Everything's still fine."

"Bucky... it could've been anyone. We can't... we can't do this anymore."

For some reason, insecurity ignited into irritation.

"So you wanna try to go back to normal again? Act like nothing happened? 'Cause that didn't really work last time."

"No, I just-... I don't know."

Silence settled thick in the air between them.

"I've become too emotionally invested," she stated, more to herself as if it was some disturbing realization.

"Could'a fooled me."

Her head snapped to him. "Bucky..."

"No, I mean, it's fine. If it's easier for you to move on when you're done with someone, that's just how it is."

"Bucky, that is not what I mean."

"Maybe it is," he remarked. "Maybe you just don't care as much as I do and I have to deal with it-"

"I don't care? Are you kidding me? Has it not been evident through out all our time together that all I've wanted was to help you and do right by you?"

"Yeah, 'cause that's your job."

"It's not just my job and you know it. I care a whole lot more than I'm supposed to and you know it. I care about you so much, it hurts."

He felt a twinge in his heart at the last part. "Then, why is it always 'this can't happen again' and 'this was a one time thing?'"

"Because I don't wanna lose my job, Bucky!"

The raise in her voice caught both of them off guard. How could she be mad at him? She was the one that kept pulling him in just to push him away.

"I have no idea what will happen if anyone found out about this," she continued, with less volume but the same amount of conviction. "My job, my career is one of the most important things in my life and I can't lose it because of an illicit affair."

"An illicit affair? That's what I am?"

He was nothing. Of course she didn't feel like that but illicit affair? The words cut into him even though somewhere in his mind he knew she didn't mean it how he took it.

"You don't understand. You mean so much more to me than I'm allowed to feel."

"No one's in charge of what you can and can't feel but you. Why does it always have to come in the way of everything."

"Jesus Christ. You're not hearing me! Bucky, I could lose everything!"

"No one even knows!"

"Oh my god," she shoved her face into her hands, frustrated.

Maybe he just genuinely doesn't understand. He has never been in a professional academic field like her, and even if he had been, it's been decades. Guidelines, expectations, rules have changed. He just doesn't get it, doesn't get how bad it could potentially be for her.

"I think I should go. We can talk in a day or two," she said, calmly, standing up. "Figure out what to do about this."

"So you're just leaving? Again?"

"That's not fair."

"You can't just walk out on me after sleeping with me and then saying 'Oh, sorry! We can't do this anymore!' What the hell?"

Wounded. That's how he felt.

"I don't want to fight with you. Let's just take a couple days to cool down, and we can talk again then."

"I don't want to take a couple days. We can talk now."

"Clearly, we can't. We're just arguing."

"Because you aren't making any sense to me!"

"Bucky!"

"It was just Steve! No one else knows and even if they did, no one would care!"

It's like he wasn't even trying to see past what he wanted. Like he wasn't even trying to understand. Indignation bubbled in her stomach.

Her voice was stern, controlled, and unyielding. "You can't know that. And yes, this time it was Steve. But it could've. Been. Anyone. How can you not see that?"

"How... How can you go from," he motioned his hand toward the bed, "this little world we have... to this. It's like when we're in the moment, you're loving and have all this affection a-and then the second you decide to come back to reality, it's like it never happened."

She knew he was just mad and she knew he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. Regardless, she felt targeted, called out. Like what he was saying was meant to sting.

"I think our ‘little world' is a bit too delicate for reality."

"And what’s that supposed to mean?"

"I'm not saying I don't care for you because I do. And I'm not pretending that what we did didn't happen. I love our time together. What I am saying is that the situation we're in doesn't work and the circumstances make it impossible to enjoy anything we might have."

"So if I wasn't fucked in the head, and you didn't have to come here and waste your time bein' a perfect professional doctor then we'd have a swell little romance goin' huh?"

Her heart sunk. Being careless with one's words can cause more pain than intended.

Shocked at his words, she inhaled sharply and tried not to let her voice shake. "You don't mean that. I know you’re just upset, but you shouldn’t talk like that. It’s not true and it’s not fair.”

"Oh, don't act like we're in a session now. I'm not your patient anymore - since you've made it crystal clear that we've violated every boundary in the rule book."

His words were sharp.

Perhaps he was being over dramatic and perhaps in some capacity he knew that. He just couldn't help how many things he was feeling, how engulfed he was in his own emotions. He was so frustrated with the dwindling mercurial high they had. He didn't know how he could feel so many things towards one person. He was angry, confused, and sad. But simultaneously there was longing, rejection, and fear. It was overwhelming him and he needed it to end.

"Maybe you should go..." He began to steel himself

"You're just gonna leave it like that?"

"What difference does it make?" He sounded petulant.

"Plenty." She sounded pissed.

He looked away. "Well, we can be sure to talk it out in a couple days, then."

She scoffed. "Fine. But I meant what I said. I hope you didn't."

With that, she walked out bearing an excruciating sense of emptiness. Bucky stood staring at the seemingly barren space she was just inhabiting, feeling more alone than he's felt in a long time.

delicate taglist: @bakugouswh0r3 @thefridgeismybestie @strivingforelegance @ilovespideyyy @xpurpleglitter @bluelakeee @darkacademic2 @nickkie1129 @eclipsedplanet @paradisedixon @crazy-beautiful @coffee--writes @lilithknight1111 @buckybarnesishot310 @softladyhours @alwayssandy @those-sea-green-eyes @hero-ically @devilswaldorf @cc13723things @small-death-and-codeine @avengersgirllorianna @cataves @thatbitchsposts @talktomeaboutthestars @surrealpsycho @headheartbellarke @bubbly-moonwarrior @bluemoon-icecream @buckeyecreates @augustbucky @itsthemaree

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prose-for-hire · 3 years

Text

How ats characters would celebrate their s/o’s Birthday:

Characters include: Angel; Spike; Cordelia; Wesley; Fred; Lorne; Gunn; Doyle; Lindsey; Drusilla and Darla

A/N: Again, totally self-indulgent for my Birthday lol! They’re fluffy !! Hope you guys enjoy them, you can save them for your Birthdays or just enjoy them today !! 🖤💖

Angel:

- Money is no object

- Will ask what you wanna do

- Could literally be anything at all

- He has enough disposable income that you feasibly could do anything

- You insist that all you want is him though

- Not his money, just him

- You adore him

- And this assurance absolutely makes him melt

- All he ever wants is for you to be happy

- But he insists that you should mark the occasion

- So you suggest a party

- Just a small gathering with the team and some good music

- He grins, pressing a kiss to your lips

- He’s actually really excited

- He can get awkward at parties (and just in general)

- But he does enjoy them somewhat

- Especially since he began dating you

- Everything’s better with you

- And that’s why he wanted to celebrate your day properly

- The hotel’s back and functioning

- And completely covered in decorations

- He appeared to have raided the entire party store

- Every occasion seemed to be represented lol

- Literally everything you could imagine stuck to the walls

- There’s even a balloon arch

- He clearly spent a really long time on it so you give him lots of kisses

- Which makes him almost blush

- He really cares and just wants you to feel good

- He would be by your side the entire time

- You would have a lot of fun

- Mostly just enjoys wrapping his arms around you

- And swaying slightly

- Whispering his love and happy birthdays

- The gift he gave you would be very meaningful and super romantic

- You would have melted right then and there

- You have a really great time, drinking and laughing

- You sit on his lap when you’re not being hauled up to dance with Cordy and Wes

- You even convince Angel to dance

- It’s equal parts dorky and adorable

- You definitely dance with him

Cordy:

- She would be so ridiculously excited

- For your birthday

- Like, ordering everyone around

- Making sure they get you the very best gifts

- And nobody is allowed to forget

- Or else

- She’s really pumped for you to be celebrated

- You’ll probably go to a bar the night before with all your friends

- Maybe Caritas if it’s up and running at the time

- (Cordy swings free drinks for you all)

- But the next day was your birthday

- You would wake up beside her

- It would honestly just be the best gift

- Just to have her this way

- You pull her into you

- Snuggling together

- Both of you sleeping off a hangover (Depending on how much/if you drank)

- Today, your actual birthday, was just for you and her

- Intimate in a way that she has always craved

- And with you she has

- Completely

- She has bought a lot of presents

- They can be assigned to two categories:

- Things you want and others that she insists you need

- All very well thought out and incredibly sweet

- She would be very cute and press lots of kisses to your lips

- Soft, sleepy kisses

- You spend a lot of the day in bed

- Just the two of you

- It’s honestly just perfect

- She wanted you to herself and you completely feel the same

- She’ll have rented movies, anything you like and you just spend it on the sofa

- Wrapped in blankets and each other

- Understated (yes, she can do understated)

- And yours

Lorne:

- The grandest plans

- You only deserved the best

- You always felt completely cherished with Lorne

- But he made sure to give you his undivided attention around your Birthday

- He wanted all the attention to be lavished upon you

- He could be so soft and so very insistent too

-He could tell you sometimes felt guilty about it but his nature made it so that he always made sure you were enjoying yourself

- The most important thing was always that you felt good

- Caritas was basically a shrine to you

- He would source pictures of you growing up, fixing them up everywhere

- There would be themed drinks (from important points in your life)

- Not to mention the list of karaoke songs all evening were exclusively your favourites

- Absolutely no exceptions

- You would be showered in gifts

- Despite you telling him it really wasn’t necessary

- Especially if it’s one of your first birthdays with you both together

- Would go so far past overboard

- But he would be entirely too cute about it

- He would vibrate with excitement

- Waiting for you to open everything

- Just when you thought you were finished

- Another pile of presents would appear from nowhere

- All the affection too

- Through the entire day, would want to be close to you

- Always does but especially so

- At the end of the day, would wrap you in his arms

- Already planning to outdo himself next year

Spike:

- The man is near obsessive over your birthday

- Consumes his thoughts the entire month, just like you do all of the time

- Won’t stop thinking about it

- Mentioning it

- He’s definitely more into it than you are

- He wants you to have something normal, human

- You have to have something special - he insists

- Wants to cherish you, the entire day would be yours

- You would make the decisions for the day

- And then he would have something planned for the evening

- Will decide to take you for drinks

- But at a more high end place than he would usually take you

- Might even take you for a trip away, somewhere you used to go

- will steal Angel’s fanciest car

- he’ll take you somewhere that he knows you like

- maybe somewhere special to the both of you

- The evening will be nice, he’ll make you smile as always

- Might treat you to some human food

- A restaurant too if you like that kind of thing

- You always feel special with him

- But the evening won’t end there

- You’ll make your way back to the car

- But he’ll grab your hand with a smirk

- Dragging you in the opposite direction

- He has it all set up

- He paid off the security guard

- There are blankets and tiny little fairy lights

- That he would have to turn off in a second, but he knew he would enjoy seeing your smile though

- He had wanted a big gesture

- Something from the movies

- Because that’s what your love was like

- Something more human but still intimate

- Just for you

- He would help you lie back, lying by your side

- Pulling you into him

- You would be stargazing as you nestled into him

- Pointing out constellations that he probably was naming completely wrong

- But you wouldn’t care because he had thought all of this up just for you

- You were happy just as long as you would be together

- He would make you laugh so hard

- And just make you feel so cherished and celebrated 😊

Wes:

- Would be so bashful about his plans

- Ridiculously anxious that you would be enjoying yourself

- That you would like whatever he came up with

- Absolutely head over heels for you

- Completely and utterly yours

- And so wants his plans to reflect this

- The gift he gives would be understated, but completely fitting

- He would be nervous to give it to you

- But once you begin gushing

- He would smile and chuckle in that way he does

- He wants to take you to a bar

- For drinks because you deserve to be celebrated

- The world’s always threatening to end

- So he wants you to have a day where it can just be you both

- Celebrating his absolute favourite person

- You ask him if he’ll dance with you

- He looks around a little embarrassed

- But he gets a burst of courage

- Takes your hand, leads you to the dancefloor

- You dance wildly, matching his moves and laughing

- A slow song started

- You loop your arms around his neck

- It was just the two of you

- For all you knew

- He whispered something

- Something he hadn’t said yet

- “I love you”

- The sweetest, most meaningful Birthday gift

- You would press your lips to his

- Telling him just how much you appreciated this

- And he would smile into the kiss

- Chuckling slightly

- So ecstatic that you were enjoying yourself

- But you insist that it would only be with him

- He wraps his arms around you

- Leaning his head against yours

- You dance slowly in the middle of the room

- Eyes closed

- It was pure bliss

- You love each other so much

Drusilla:

- She would pull out every stop

- An extravagant event

- In your honour

- Everything would have to be just so

- Or she would start cracking skulls

- Would attempt to make it a sweet surprise

- But would begin to murmur about it one evening

- As she held you close

- You would be very used to interpreting her words

- And so realise

- But not tell her so not to upset her

- Either way it would be beautiful

- just before the day, she brings you a bunch of flowers

- they’re night blooming

- and they look a little dead

- but you of course adore them

- The night of your birthday was so pretty, she says it’s because it belongs to you

- Your night

-The event would be filled with gifts and people you vaguely knew and liked

- She would ensure you were the centre of attention

- As you were already the centre of her world

- She would smile, laying such adoring affections on you

- Her hands entwined with you

- Would be by your side for the entire day

- Soft gestures of physical affection as you both enjoyed the celebration

- Always touching you

- Would definitely have several gifts for you

- Definitely a birthday tarot reading

- You tell her that you don’t need a future reading, you see yourself with her

- For eternity

- She would adore this and get very excited

- Lots and lots of love

- And probably several trinkets

- She probably found these trinkets by purposefully targeting the owners

- And taking them for you

- (A for effort, isn’t she the sweetest? Always thinking of you)

Gunn:

- He would be a man with a plan

- It may not be pulled off exactly as planned

- But he would have had the idea in advance

- Very caring for a s/o

- Can get wrapped up in a relationship

- Which is lucky for you

- He adores you

- Absolutely worships you

- (just as you do for him ofc)

- He gets up early, ready to set everything up

- But gets instantly interrupted

- You roll over and wake up

- He can’t resist you

- Gets caught out and slides back into bed

- Holds you for a while and you cuddle up to him

- Long story short…

- You spend most of the day in bed

- Long into the afternoon

- Which, he finds a lot better than he could have planned anyway

- He tried to get away at first but by noon he just couldn’t tear himself away

- He holds you close

- Telling you how lucky he feels to have you

- And that he wants everything to be good

- He’ll singlehandedly stop an apocalypse for you

- He insists nothing’s gonna stop celebrating your day

- But you pull him back into bed again

- Pressing kisses against him

- Insisting he’s the only gift you could ever want

- But when he presents his actual gift you of course take it

- He’s very in tune with you, always listens to what you like

- And so the gift is very thoughtful but also useful/something you will use

- Which leads to you peppering him in kisses and gushing

- Which makes him smile

- That one that makes him absolutely glow

- You’re still not quite sure what the plans were

- But they were easily cancelled, he sent a chain text and it was sorted

- he called for takeout instead

- your favourite of course

- it was simple but honestly you wouldn’t want it any other way

- just you and him

Darla:

- Probably would not have remembered

- Until you mentioned it

- Definitely isn’t used to birthday celebrations

- You had been through so much since then

- But once she realises

- Decides she wishes to dedicate the day to you

- She doesn’t show it often, but she can be so ridiculously soft for you

- The day would be intimate and just for the both of you

- She can be very possessive and wouldn’t want anyone else involved

- Anything you wanted she would get for you

- You name it, literally

- It’s yours

- She can take over entire shopping malls

- Hold up an evil law firm

- Make them do a spell or something for you

- She would lavish so much on you

- You could take your pick of anything and she would take your hand the entire day

- Such obvious affection is rare, but she does adore you

- Presses a single kiss against your temple

- With that sweet, knowing smile

- Her eyes would always be on you

- You would feel loved just by her gaze

- She truly stopped everything just to celebrate you

- Evil plots on pause, won’t even talk to Wolfram and Hart

- If that’s what you wish

- She doesn’t like to admit how much you mean to her

- But because it’s your birthday

- She would

- If she hasn’t already, she would love to sire you

- It would be a very romantic gift for her to offer

- As if she had brought you a dozen roses

- Making your death day and your birthday the same day

- She would see it as the best present she could give you

Lindsey:

- Doesn’t mention your birthday

- Always so busy at work

- You presume he’s forgotten

- And you don’t remind him

- You don’t mind

- (or I mean that’s what you tell yourself)

- But when the day rolls around you wake up

- And frown

- His work clothes are still out

- He hasn’t left today

- And someone’s in your kitchen?

- You go and see what’s going on and he’s made your favourite breakfast

- He looks at you as if you just brought the sun into the room

- A heavenly glow that only surrounded you

- You were the light in his life

- He loves so deeply, wants to cling onto this

- Wants you to know just how much he loves you

- By making this day just for you

- He chides you though cos he was trying to make breakfast in bed

- But you had woken up

- But you just wrap your arms around him and hug him close

- He pulls you in for a deep kiss

- Holding onto this moment

- Holding on to you

- He’s got a very rare day off

- And you don’t want to ask how much of his soul was sold off for the luxury

- The day’s completely yours

- You go out and do tourist-y stuff in LA

- You live there but never get a chance to do something just fun and normal

- So you go around and take cheesy pictures

- Try out different hotspots

- You have a really lovely meal at the end of the day too

- He’s comfortable, has money to blow on fancy meals

- But it means more because he appeared to have looked into the local menus and stuff

- Finding suggestions that he knew that you would like

- You go to a few bars that you really enjoy

- but he soon notices you want to go back home

- So you and he can celebrate without any prying eyes

- It was truly one of the best days, you felt so much closer

Fred:

- She would have forgotten about birthdays

- After Pylea

- But when you mentioned it casually

- She jumped into action

- Not just because it was probably only a few days away

- But because she loved you and wanted you happy

- Wouldn’t want to do anything too lavish

- It’s just not the way you both are together

- It would be something simple, but so very meaningful

- She would be so soft

- (I mean she is anyway, but this is a day celebrating you)

- And she loves you so much

- I think she’d take you for a little day out

- A kind of adventure

- But one where you could relax plenty

- A day off from demons and one just for you?

- Perfection

- She would present you with a gift while you were out

- I think she would have made it herself I think

- Probably took a while

- But she enjoyed it so much

- Something clever and cute

- Like her

- She would blush if you made a big deal of thanking her

- But ultimately reciprocate any kisses

- She would probably cuddle up to you and ask what you would like to do that evening

- She apologises for not having grander plans but honestly her just being with you is the best

- And you ofc tell her this

- You settle for drinks at a bar you both like

- But you don’t stay long, mostly just wanting to spend time privately

- You grab some takeout on the way home

- And celebrate more intimately

- The glow of the tv, but neither of you will be watching

- Just the two of you

Doyle:

- He’d be buzzing with excitement

- You always treat him so good

- (he swears he doesn’t deserve it)

- So he makes sure that you feel the love

- Especially so because it’s your birthday

- He says you have plans for your birthday

- And you’re like ??

- That’s news to me lol

- But he absolutely won’t tell you

- And teases you about it in the weeks leading up

- His teasing smile is equal parts infuriating

- And cute

- He just wants you to enjoy yourself

- And this is part of it

- He’s sick of everything ruining your time together

- So he tries to bargain with the powers

- He just looks upwards and half-pleads for them not to bother him

- Just for your birthday weekend

- No visions, please

- Nothing he comes up with, in his own mind, will be good enough

- He wants to give you the world

- And he promises one day he will

- Does this through a cute little globe key chain

- Before giving you a few more gifts

- He truly listens to you and things you like

- Buys things through the year

- So that he has them

- Hiding them is hard

- He would have planned it all out, using his connections

- He’s bagged a weekend away for you both

- somewhere you’ve always wanted to go

- Somewhere really nice, super upmarket

- Not something you’re used to after living in LA so long

- You have the best time

- He honestly makes you feel like the only person in the world

- He’s just so sweet

- Literally would drop anything for his s/o

- To make sure you’re enjoying yourself and happy

- It was just perfect

- You’re already planning to make it a tradition

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boognish-worshipper · 3 years

Text

Remember the Rain

praying this is the final part of “Sunrise, Sunset” by the time i’m done omg ,, lamar finally talks it out with frank. i was tryna keep the titles consistent with a sky theme? wasn’t sure what to name this one at first, but i settled on naming it after a i song that i felt was sorta fitting lol ,, also lamar’s dramatic when drunk, that’s jus how it’s gonna be

oh and i included one last convo w/ that psychic lady bc each character got three opportunities to speak to her lol

The night Franklin and him fought was the third night in a row Lamar couldn’t sleep right. Then it became four. Then five. Six. He had hoped after the first couple days of Franklin being mad, that it’d all blow over and things would go back to normal. That he wouldn’t ever have to say anything about what he felt deep down. Even though he told himself he had to, he wouldn’t. He waited it out, and still hoped it would all just fucking blow over. That wasn’t what happened of course.

An overcast sky was spread over LS, light rain tapping against Lamar’s window. As cheesy as it was, it reflected how he felt. Another day had passed. Franklin wasn’t picking up, not even reading his texts, nothing. He called a couple times at first when the fourth day of the silent treatment occurred, then tried a few more times to contact him in the following days. It had grown into a long and sad string of texts.

franklin.

dog

plz

pick up

answer me

plz?

c’mon frank i told you i have nothin goin on with yo auntie

i wanna talk things out with you.

u ain’t let me finish explaining

text me when u read this. plz bro

He sighed. This was hopeless. He set his phone aside, still laying awake. A buzz came right after. Fucking finally, something.

fuck you

we got nothin to discuss

He didn’t know how to feel. This was fucking him up and he couldn’t think straight. He tried calling him once more, the ringing as he waited for a pick up mocking him. Voicemail yet again. How many messages had he tried leaving at this point?

for fucks sake frank pick up

u ain’t doin this to me rn

jus let me explain myself

He stared at the ceiling yet again, like it would have all the answers sprawled out for him. As he did, he focused on how the rain had picked up, coming down harder. Then he felt his phone buzz.

now stop blowing my phone up

i’m tryna sleep

Lamar was never one to be sensitive, but he felt so crushed right now that all he could do was cry silently to himself. He didn’t even have Chop around anymore to comfort him like he normally would whenever Lamar was going through something. Would he even see him again? He lived over at Frank’s now. Fuck. Did this mean they’d have to share custody now? If he wasn’t so upset, he most likely would’ve laughed at the idea of it. He was letting bad thoughts consume him, turning to a last minute resort of drinking to try stopping it. This kind of thing rarely happened to him, these kind of feelings weren’t common. He knew no other method of trying to stuff bad feelings down, working through a 6 pack of beer on his own, followed by a bottle of some type of random liquor. Anything to stifle the pain in his chest, although it didn’t accomplish much other than making him feel even more queasy. He left one last voicemail, choking back a sob. Or what he had thought would be the last one. He lost count.

“Franklin. Please jus’ talk to me already man. You- you believin’ what you wanna believe right now, you ain’t even givin’ me a chance. You my best fuckin’ friend, don’t that mean shit to you anymore? We.. homies n shit.” He sniffled, cringing to himself when he said the words “best friend”. Franklin was so much more than that to him.

“Ion… Ion think I can live without you in my life. You can’t hate me man that shit.. that’s fucked. This is fucked. I’m fucked.”

A strong feeling of humiliation hung around him for many reasons, one being that he was fully crying now, over the phone. He couldn’t get any lower.

“You jus’ mad right now. But you.. you won’t be, eventually. Right? Please get back to me soon. Please. I’d rather fuckin’.. die or sum’ than have you hatin’ me n shit. At this point I might as well.”

After hanging up, he decided to visit that site one last time. His tears blurred his vision, making it harder to type. The shit in his system didn’t help either.

lady

i fuckef up

thsi is yo faukt

What now? Why are you back?

frankljn hates me

He does? That’s not right.

damn straighy it fuckign isnt

No, I mean that’s not correct.

There’s no way that he could, even if it seems like it right now.

jus fuckin tell me whst to do

That’s out of my hands.

is not u fuckin wirch

*withc

*witch

Look, I really don’t know how else to help you. I don’t have any other visions to offer. You’re on your own.

They do say though, that dreams are visions themselves.

dont fukcin speak in riddles rn

Precognition, Lamar. Just have faith

prewhatnow

n yeah. faith. bc that helps so fuckn much

All I can say to you is good luck - it’s all coming together. Just wait.

th fuck does that mean?

It means that you’re stressing too much - you better sleep it off. Farewell Lamar. You’re gonna have a killer hangover you know…

SERVICE UNAVAILABLE. PLEASE TRY AGAIN LATER.

The notification did nothing but make him more upset. He calmed down eventually, the crying and alcohol tiring him out. He blacked out soon after, not remembering when he fell asleep.

For the first time in a while, he dreamt about the two of them. The start of the dream showed a radiant sight before them, the sky lit up in a million shades. Chop was laying beside Franklin, head on his thigh. All three of them sat on a grassy knoll, a soft breeze blowing through each blade. Franklin turned, Lamar not taking his eyes off him since the dream started. He only noticed the sky’s wide color palette because the intensity struck Franklin’s face just right. He looked right into Lamar’s eyes, speaking softly.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“What?”

“You had so many opportunities. So many times, I thought that you would. I got my hopes up, you know. I waited. When Tanisha left.. I only had you.”

“Tanisha..”

“I still love her. I.. I think apart of me always will, but I love you just the same. Even if you drive me up a Goddamn wall sometimes. You both mean the world to me.”

Franklin looked back at the view ahead. A heavenly indigo replaced the vivid hues from before.

“But she’s gone now. Shit ain’t the same. All I know is you stayed when she didn’t. Even when she got pulled outta the hood and made some kinda new life for herself, you never left my side. Never changed yo loyalties.”

He turned back to face Lamar again. His eyes were glassy, the glow of the midnight sky reflecting in them.

“So why didn’t you say somethin’ sooner?”

“Franklin.. I ain’t deduce that shit ‘til now.“

“You really didn’t know?”

Even in the dream he could feel that previous frustration occur in his mind. Was he hiding in a glass closet or something? He could only let out a wry laugh.

“Yeah man. I was a fuckin’ fool, jus’ like you always said.”

“Damn straight.” He chuckled, and Lamar came to the conclusion that he could listen to that laugh forever. Franklin’s face then fell solemn.

“Y’know I really thought that.. I really thought that you jus’ got with someone else. Not even jus’ my Aunt. I saw how you wanted to get away from me, and I thought…” He stopped himself, petting Chop’s head.

“I.. wanted to be happy if you was, but the thought of that at all bothered me.”

“Why?”

“Cuz you were all I had, dog. Mike n Trevor, they have their own lives, their own history n shit. I can’t always rely on them. Denise don’t give a fuck what happen to me. You my lifeline dog, I’ve known you for years. I didn’t want you to forget me over a chick or sum’. That day you acted all different n shit, it worried me.”

“Hey man, y’know I ain’t ever gon pull that shit on you. I’m with you for life.”

“Then don’t pull other kinda stupid shit on me.”

“Whatchu mean?”

“You can’t ever die on me bro. That ain’t how this shit works.”

“Ay man, I don’t plan on dying jus’ yet. Not unless yo ass by my side. Not ‘til I tell you I…” He couldn’t finish the sentence.

Franklin got closer to his face, cupping his cheek. His eyes shone as the stars around them fell from the sky, akin to raindrops, hitting them. Everything about him was flooding Lamar’s senses, and it felt surreal, between his aroma and all the other things he loved about Franklin. Golden flecks covered them both, and the stars continued to crash down. The sky was growing darker than before.

“Just say the words Lamar. Say them and this shit’ll be over.”

“How?”

“Well first you need to wake yo ass up.”

“Huh?”

“I said wake up, fool!”

Lamar’s blissful dream had been interrupted by an unknown figure shaking him, literal raindrops hitting his face. He was still bleary eyed, only seeing a vague silhouette in front of him. A wet slap to the face rattled his brain around, the hangover settling in. Shit, was he still drunk? What time was it?

“Lamar! Get up!”

“Oh.. Th’fuck? Who- who that is?” He grunted out.

“It’s me you fuckin’ clown!”

“Frank?”

“Who the fuck else?”

“Why are you-”

He was abruptly yanked out of bed, thudding to the floor with a small “oof”.

“Get up you punk bitch!”

“Franklin what the fuck-”

He was grabbed again, tossed back onto his bed. Franklin straddled him, shaking Lamar by the collar.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He said, Lamar getting another slap to the face.

“What in the fresh fuck is you talkin’-” Another slap.

“15 fuckin’ missed phone calls! 15! Are you fuckin’ nuts?!”

Lamar’s eyes practically popped out of his head. 15? What the fuck did he say to him?

“I did what-”

Franklin shook him even harder by his shirt, stretching the material out. He was straining his voice now.

“You had me worried like fuckin’ crazy! I thought you was in some sorta fuckin’ trouble again! You blew my phone up when I told yo ass not to, and then didn’t fuckin’ pick up after I heard the first couple special messages you left me!”

Oh God. This was it. He told Franklin everything, didn’t he? The color drained from his face.

“Oh fuck me..” He mumbled, putting a hand over his eyes.

“What?!” Franklin yelled, shaking him again. Lamar’s head was pounding.

“Franklin.. what.. what I say on there? I barely remember a thing, let alone callin’ yo ass.”

“You seriously don’t fuckin’ remember?!”

“Yeah. Seriously, man.”

Franklin slid off of him, putting a palm to his face. He breathed through his nose hard, trying to calm down. Lamar realized he was drenched from the small downpour outside. Pellets of rain thumped against the window as a reminder that the storm never went away.

“You.. fuck, man. You started sayin’ all this shit about how bad a fuckin’ friend you was. That you, you was hidin’ all this shit and couldn’t live another day without tellin’ me.”

Okay. Good. He didn’t tell him the truth.

“You told me you wanted to die dog. Didn’t realize yo dumbass was safe n sound asleep in yo fuckin’ bed.”

“Oh.”

“…’Oh’? Is that really all you have to say?!”

“F, I was jus’ drunk. It was dumb of me, I know, but I.. It’s nothing, okay?”

“Don’t do this shit to me man! I’ve already dealt with enough of yo fuckin’ schemes n shit-”

“Frank.”

“It’s 3 am! You had Chop barkin’ his Goddamn head off the whole night!”

“Franklin.”

“Then I race my ass over here to find yo drunkass self passed out in bed-”

“Franklin.”

“What! What?! You finally gonna put yo two cents in for once?”

“Stop yelling. My head hurts like a bitch right now.”

“Good! I’m fuckin’ glad because I know mine does as well you fuckin’ asshole!”

Lamar looked pathetically up at him. This was getting out of hand. He let it go on for too long.

“Why did you come here then?” He croaked.

“Because you were fuckin’ sobbin’ into the phone! All I heard was you cryin’ like mad fuckin’ crazy and it scared me. You don’t ever do that shit, not even when you fucked up.”

“How much I say?”

“I got the first message pretty fuckin’ clear, the rest was jus’ incoherent bullshit. I barely got through the second one before speedin’ on over. You sounded hurt n shit, I thought something happened. I thought you was a goner.”

“No weird shit though right? I ain’t say nothin’ bad?”

“What? Lamar, what the fuck are you on about? I just told you what yo ass cried out to me! I couldn’t even understand any of the other messages!”

“Okay, okay. That’s.. good I guess.”

“That’s good? Fuckin’ hell, why did I come here? You- ugh!”

“Franklin. Can you jus’ sit down before you pop a fuckin’ blood vessel? You stressin’ for nothin’.”

If anything, Lamar should be the one stressing right now. He had been so close to confessing without knowing. Franklin sat next to him, arms crossed.

“Franklin.”

“What.”

“I’m sorry that I scared you. I didn’t mean to.”

“Well good fuckin’ job, you accomplished that real well didn’t you.” He said, sarcastically applauding him.

“I thought you were cutting me off for good homie. You think I was gon’ let that happen?”

“Lamar, that still ain’t a good reason to freak me out like that in the middle of the night.”

“It’s only cuz you hadn’t been listenin’ to me bro. I’ve been wanting to tell you somethin’ so badly lately and I never.. got the chance.”

“Then do pray fuckin’ tell LD, what the fuck is so important that you had to do this shit to me at 3 AM!”

“Franklin man, c’mon-”

“No! Don’t start!”

Franklin stood, heading for the door as he spoke. He stopped in the threshold.

“Tell me what the fuck is goin’ on with you, or I’m leavin’ yo sad ass here to wallow. I mean it L.”

“Don’t be like that. Please man. I want to, but I-”

“Jus’ fuckin’ tell me! Why won’t you tell me?!”

“Frank-”

“I dragged my ass all the way over here for nothin’ didn’t I? You ain’t dead, you ain’t sayin’ shit, you jus’ bein’ so- ugh! Fuck!” He threw his hands up, exiting Lamar’s bedroom.

“I’m done man, fuck this.”

“Franklin wait- don’t go-” He pleaded.

Franklin did nothing but leave him stranded again, thunder rolling far in the distance. Lamar ran after him as he walked out the door, hearing the rain heavily hit the pavement. His mind was racing far ahead of him. Franklin was leaving, he was leaving for good, and he couldn’t. He can’t. That’s not how it’s supposed to work. Franklin can’t do that, he can’t-

His mind had gone so far away, that he didn’t even realize that he had tackled Franklin to the ground. The two of them fell to the ground with a loud splat, followed by sounds of pain.

“Lamar what the fuck?!”

“Don’t go! Fuckin’ hell, I gotta chase yo ass and for what?!”

“Get off me dog!”

“No!” Franklin was pinned beneath him. The raindrops that rolled off of Lamar hit him in the face.

It reminded Lamar of when they were younger, playing football or whatever sport they could outside even as the deluge soaked them both to the bone. The roles had been reversed, with Franklin constantly knocking him down onto the grassy sludge. They got quite an earful from Lamar’s mom as they tracked mud in the house upon returning. It was a memory amongst many that stuck with him like glue. Those memories couldn’t go away. Franklin couldn’t go away.

Tears mixed in with the rain as he yelled out to him.

“You fuckin’ idiot! Why you makin’ this shit so hard for me?! You keep leavin’ before I can even finish!”

Franklin struggled to break free from Lamar’s grip on his wrists, huffing as he looked away.

“Look at me!” Lamar shouted, grabbing his face with a free hand.

“I didn’t wanna fuckin’ tell you like this, but Jesus Christ! For fucks sake you stubborn asshole-”

He was doing it. He bit the fucking bullet.

“You know how we got into that fuckin’ argument last week? When I told you that I was dealin’ with that whole love thing, I wasn’t talkin’ about yo Aunt, a hoe, nobody else! I was talkin’ about you!”

Lamar threw himself off of him, stumbling backwards. Franklin propped himself onto his elbows. He finally said it. He said it, and he was far from finished.

“But you didn’t wanna fuckin’ listen! And now I’ve fucked our friendship over for a second time! All because of you! This whole thing has been drivin’ me fuckin’ insane lately, and I couldn’t do shit about it! I tried so, so hard to avoid this, but nothin’ ever goes my way, huh?! Every time I think a plan of mine’ll work, it doesn’t! You know why?!”

Opening his arms wide, he spoke loud and clear, finishing his rant.

“Lemme remind you: I’m Lamar fuckin’ Davis! The biggest fuckin’ fool, fuckin’ clown, fuckin’ whatever you wanna call me! Lamar Davis, the most naïve bitch on the planet! Fuck me for thinking that this would ever go well!”

Now it was his turn to leave. But he didn’t go back into his house. His legs moved for him, walking in no particular direction. He just needed to get away from Franklin, not caring about how damp his clothes were now. He was shaking, and he didn’t know if it was from the rain or the range of emotions he was flying through.

He could hear a pair of sneakers squishing behind him. Franklin was running, and he was catching up fast.

“Ay Lamar! Get back here!”

Oh fuck. He was chasing after him now. That’s not good. Lamar started running himself, not caring about possibly slipping and falling on his ass. Only a few hours ago, he had told himself he couldn’t be without Franklin. Now all he wanted to do was run away.

“Lamar!”

Fuck fuck fuck.

He wasn’t fast enough. The second time they hit the ground, Lamar had the wind knocked right out of him, the duo splashing right into a puddle. Hands gripped his shoulders, flipping him around.

“Lamar!”

There were only a few instances in his life where Lamar felt small. He’d always been big in character, big in height, and according to him, big in other ways. But this was one of those moments where he couldn’t help but flinch, wanting to collapse in on himself. He was so tired.

“If you gon’ beat my ass or somethin’ jus’ get it over with.” He sighed, shutting his eyes tight.

When he felt nothing but raindrops touch his face, he opened his eyes slowly. His heart sank when he did. Franklin was visibly upset, guilt in his eyes.

“Lamar. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

A wave of déjà vu washed over him. Oh. So that’s what precognition meant. Motherfucking psychic lady.

“You should’ve jus’ told me man.”

“I tried dog. You wouldn’t hear me out.”

“Cuz I.. I thought you got with someone. I didn’t wanna hear it straight from yo mouth if you was.”

He shifted up, Frank sitting in his lap.

“Y’know I always thought that.. Part of me jus’ kinda thought that it’d always be the two of us. I’m never gonna get Tanisha back.. but you..”

Franklin looked away.

“You a crazy ass loyal motherfucker man. You stuck by my side no matter what, and some dumbass part of me was convinced that you… I mean fuck, so many times I thought you would jus’ flat out say something. Somethin’ so I could stop waiting for the one other person I had known forever to just say that they fuckin’ loved me like that.”

Lamar blinked, rainwater getting into his eyes. It wasn’t quite as serene as his dream had been, nor was it verbatim, but Lamar didn’t care. There was something about the way the water droplets sat along Franklin’s face, highlighted by a streetlight behind him that made him look angelic.

“When you started actin’ all weird it jus’.. made me so fuckin’ mad man. I thought you was gon’ pick someone else over me. Jus’ like Tanisha did.”

“Franklin..”

“So why didn’t you jus’ say somethin’ sooner? I waited. Hell, I don’t even know why I did at first.”

“Franklin.”

“But now I’m realizin’ you must not have even noticed yoself what you was feelin’, when I fuckin’ did. I noticed and you didn’t and-”

Lamar grabbed him by the face, grip surprisingly strong after being in the rain.

“How many times do I gotta say yo name for you to hear me?”

The rain kept falling, never slowing for either one of them. Yet, it felt like time stopped. Lamar chuckled lightly.

“Franklin Clinton and Lamar Davis. Two of the dumbest motherfuckers in LS. Homies for life.”

“Yeah. Homies for life.”

His hands never left Franklin’s face. He pressed their foreheads together, lowering his voice.

“I love you, bum ass bitch.”

“Yeah yeah. I love you too.”

He kissed the top of his head, moving his hands down to embrace him in a tight hug. When was the last time they did this? As he thought it over, he could hear Franklin’s voice muffled against his chest.

“Don’t scare me like that again. Next time save us both the trouble n jus’ spill yo heart out. Dramatic motherfucker.”

The words had no malice in them, Lamar feeling him smile as he said it. He kissed him once more, and they just sat in the rain, feeling it bathe them in fond memories.

//plz listen to remember the rain by 21st century it’s so good 💔😭 anyway ya i decided to end it on a sorta happy note !!!!! franklin is a stubborn guy smh,, sorry for any typos lol also i rlly had no idea where i wanted to go with this so sorry if it’s weird or whatever

#grand theft auto 5 #gta v #lamar davis #franklin clinton #franklin/lamar #framar #one sided pining #but with a twist #mutual pining #i told y’all frank was hiding sumn

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thosewickedlovelies · 3 years

Text

AND THEY WERE WALLMATES: Pasteles de Gloria (part 3)

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: T for mature themes (mentions of sex and violence)

Summary: Javier thanks you...appropriately, this time. Connie and Javier have a chat <3

Tags: Mention of blood. Reader starts to have Thots (same, girl)

Word count: 3,740

A/N: So their POVs in this chapter overlap a little bit...sorry if that throws anyone off, I’m still getting used to writing reader insert fics. The dessert and the Spanish are explained at the end :) Enjoy!

Masterlist

You hadn’t seen Javier in over a week. The first few days after that conversation had been a whirlwind of emotions- worry over whether you’d said the right things, hope that he might feel the same (plus fear that he wouldn’t), and eventually anger at his total lack of response. Until Connie told you that he and Steve had been sent on some mission.

“Nothing dangerous, but they’ll be gone for a few days. Javi must not have gotten the chance to say goodbye.” Uttered without a second’s hesitation, like it was unthinkable that Javier wouldn’t have explained himself to you if he could.

Maybe Connie knew something you didn’t.

So another several days had passed, with worry becoming the dominant theme; all your other initial feelings faded into the background as you wondered how ‘not dangerous’ DEA work could really be.

You’re settling in for another restless evening when there’s a rap on the door. Your nerves leap and jangle- you aren’t supposed to being seeing Connie again until tomorrow, so who…?

You peer through the cracked door before wrenching it open the rest of the way, your heart roaring in your ears. Javier Peña stands before you. He holds a bottle in one hand and a paper bag in the other, and looks uncharacteristically nervous. You forget you’re theoretically supposed to be upset with him as you stare at each other, wide-eyed.

He clears his throat. “Hey. Uh, sorry I disappeared on you. Boss sent me and Steve on a mission, I had to leave from work.” So Connie had been right on both accounts. He hadn’t had time to call you, and he would have if he could.

When you wait, he continues. “I thought, since I interrupted your evening the last time I was here, I could make it up to you.” He holds up the bottle, which you’re surprised to recall is indeed the same wine that you had opened the night he came to your place after reopening his wound.

You look at him in wonder, but he’s not finished. “Also, well...I can’t bake for shit, but I know somewhere that can. You ever had a pastel de gloria?” He lifts the paper bag, cracks a small, still-nervous grin.

“I haven’t,” you confirm, an answering smile growing on your face, touched by the sweetness of his gesture and the implications it holds.

“Well, you can try them tonight, because-” his confidence apparently bolstered by your response, he holds the bottle out to you, brow quirking in request. You take it, bemused at the prospect of there still being more to his plan, and he digs something out of his back pocket with an air of presentation. “-I found the sequel to a certain movie while at a market recently. I was going to bring it to Steve and Connie’s but...now seemed like a better time to watch it.”

You almost laugh out loud as you take in the cover of the tape in his hand. It’s the sequel to that movie night travesty, all right. That Javier would do all of this...you hardly know what to say.

You hope whatever expression is on your face is saying it for you, though, as you look up at him. “Thank you, Javier. This is...amazing.” And it is, much more so than would have been necessary to thank you for helping with his leg, or to make up for his unplanned disappearance after you turned down his proposition.

He chuckles, looking down in embarrassment. “You don’t actually have to watch this shit movie if you don’t want to. That part was just a joke.” You could swear he’s blushing, the faintest tinge of color in his cheeks beneath the white hallway lights. “But you should try these pastries, because they are something else.” He offers you the bag, his body shifting sideways slightly, as if he intends to hand off his gifts and then disappear. As if his wide, guileless, puppy dog eyes and the unconscious pout to his lips weren’t begging otherwise.

Well. “Of course I want to watch this shit movie, Javi. As long as you watch it with me.” You give him a teasing grin. “It was much more fun with a spoilsport.”

Relief spills over his features, washing the tension from his shoulders and the breath from his lungs. Turning away toward the kitchen, you miss the true extent of it, leaving the door open for him as you head back inside. “Bring those to the couch, I’ll get us some plates,” you call over your shoulder.

Javier follows more slowly, collecting himself. By the time you join him in the living room, carrying, plates, wine glasses, and napkins, he’s fiddling with your VCR. You pour the wine while he sets it up, although you find yourself distracted by the shifting valleys of muscle in his back beneath his tight-fitting shirt, the bottle in your hands suspended uselessly above a glass. You curse as you almost spill.

“Everything okay?” Javi joins you on the couch, a careful, hesitant distance away.

“Of course!” You’re quick to assure him. “Now, tell me about these pastries,” you urge, eyes sparkling. He unloads them onto a plate, stacking rounded pastries into a rough pyramid, each one golden brown, sprinkled with sugar, and the size of a small fist. His voice softens as he tells you about the bakery and the older woman who runs it, who insists everyone call her ‘abuela’, even grown men and gringos like him. How he discovered it entirely by accident one day, following his nose.

“The filling is usually pasta de guayaba- guava paste- but they can also have arequipe, or cheese, or all three. She gave me a some extras, so I’m not sure which ones are which here,” he says, suddenly brusque. He gestures for you to take one first, a look on his face you can’t quite identify.

You’re definitely at risk of drooling as you pick up a pastel, Javier watching you intently. Puff pastry flakes over your plate as you take a bite.

And close your eyes in relish. A trio of flavors oozes over your tongue, each complementing the other, all of them ensconced in a sheath of sugary, flakey pastry. The creamy, neutral tang of the cheese mellowing the tart-sweet burst of fruity guava, both flavors coated in the thick, sticky-sweet burnt sugar taste of dulce de leche.

Swallowing, your eyes pop wide to look at Javier again. It’s a near-physical reaction he has to your sudden attention, an almost-flinch away from it as he awaits your verdict.

“Javier.” Your voice is serious. With slow deliberance, you lean toward him intently, reaching out to rest your hand on his forearm. You let the anticipation s t r e t c h.

“You have got to tell me how to make these.”

The breath leaves him in a rush, a huff of relief and and laughter at your dramatics. He’s hyper-aware of your hand on his skin- the casual touch reverberates through him in a way he should probably be more concerned about. It’s the first time you’ve touched him for non-medical reasons, but it heals him all the same; he feels warm, something inside him yielding in your presence.

He clears his throat. “Like I said, I can’t bake for shit. But...I can ask the abuela.” His free hand rubs at his neck, slipping beneath the collar of his shirt. The movement draws your attention, and your gaze continues lower, to the two buttons he seems to perpetually leave undone. The smooth, flushed skin beneath. Was it warm in here?

You stand abruptly. “Is it warm in here? I’ll flip the fan on. You want to press play?” You throw him a quick smile as you cross the room to the wall switch. You flip off the overhead light while you’re there, leaving just the tall floor lamp casting a bright but cozy glow.

Javi obliges, the space dimming briefly as the opening sequence begins. You plop back down on the sofa, deliberately settling slightly closer to him- friends distance away. Handing him a wine glass, you raise yours expectantly. “¡Salud!” you beam.

Despite your cheer, you feel a trickle of nervous anticipation. What shape would your relationship take with only the two of you to guide it? You’d never been alone alone together for the express purpose of just hanging out.

Javier clinks his glass with yours. “Salud,” he murmurs, his eyes crinkling upward slightly.

You order yourself to stop getting in your head. Humming around a mouthful of plum-purple wine, you set down the glass in favor of your plate, loading it with several more pastels. Blissful satisfaction fills you as a second bite confirms their perfection, and you lick sugar off your lips with a happy sigh. Beside you, Javi’s empty fingers twitch. He takes a large gulp of wine.

The movie rapidly proves to be of the same ‘quality’ as its parent. Just as quickly, you realize you didn’t need to worry about getting on with Javier. You end up having great fun at the film’s expense, frequently pausing it so Javi can explain in more detail why this or that would never happen in real life. It’s fascinating hearing him speak with such confidence, observing the minute ripples of his face as it contorts in thought. Despite his superior knowledge, he’s never condescending toward you, listening patiently to your questions and trying to answer in ways you can relate to. He sneers freely at the characters onscreen though, and you can completely picture him sitting at a one of those government conference tables, telling some poor bastard how bad his ideas are with his trademark dismissive, deadpan attitude.

There are other fascinating things about him, too. Like the way his short shirtsleeves to stretch over his arm muscles, subtle but visible, highlighted by the room’s long shadows. Like the tempting cords of his neck when he tips his head back to drink. Like more of his self-conscious glances, when he bites into a pastel and crumbs and sugar cling to his mustache. He hurriedly swipes his palm down the hairs, but you’ve caught him from the corner of your eye. You press your lips together to smother a giggle, but when he glides his tongue over his lip to catch any stray bits, your smile fades as your stomach swoops. You can sense him regarding you again as you fix your gaze on the tv. You wish you knew what was going on in his head.

Too soon the movie ends. The credits roll, but Javier shows no signs of leaving, leisurely taking out a pack of cigarettes and tapping it against his hand. “Do you mind?” he checks.

You wrinkle your nose but allow it. “As long as you do it at the window.” You stand, leaving Javi still seated, and spread your arms in a stretch, attempting to blink away some of the sleepy wine haze. “Be right back,” you tell him, taking the opportunity for a bathroom break.

After, however, before crossing the kitchen to rejoin him, you pause on the threshold of the hall. Your head tilts as you run your gaze over his unguarded stature. Javier leans against the window’s edge, his head and torso turned to exhale smoke out into the night. It doesn’t all escape immediately, gray twisting in the air around his profile, and you lose yourself in the brooding picture he paints. He believes he’s alone, but doesn’t look like he’s enjoying a peaceful smoke break- more like he’s weighed down by his thoughts, his eyes sweeping over the street without taking it in. Doesn’t he have anyone to share his burdens with?

You shuffle your feet loudly before you turn the corner, revealing your presence so he can react accordingly. As you approach, he stubs out his cigarette on the narrow sill and turns to face you, his shoulders relaxing.

“I thought of something else about that last scene,” he greets, and you’re happy to let him go on about the film, savoring the rich timbre of his voice. You talk for a little while longer, lounging by the window. He asks you more about yourself now, and you haltingly tell him about your background, how you came to arrive in Columbia. He drinks in every word, and you get the feeling he’s storing this all away, ready to reference later. As if he intends for there to be a later.

Finally it comes up. Your last interaction. “Look, I’m sorry about last time,” Javier begins. “When I, you know-” he nods jerkily in lieu of saying “tried to seduce you” out loud. “I, uh. I don’t know what I was thinking.” His gaze drops the same way it did when he was withholding how he got the cut on his leg.

You thought you had understood some of his thought process, but maybe there was more to it. “I think you do,” you disagree wryly. One shoulder lifts in a shrug. “But it’s okay, Javier. I just...didn’t want you to sleep with me just because you felt like you owed me.”

It’s a struggle to hold his gaze, yours ranging over his face and chest, searching for a reaction to what you’ve left unspoken. That you may well want him to sleep with you, but only because he actually wants to, wants you, specifically. Javier is smart, and clearly experienced with women- there’s no way he’ll miss the implication.

The longer you hold his gaze, the more clearly you see his thoughts churning, turning over everything that’s occurred between you and what it might mean, with all the analytical precision his career requires. That’s who you’ve been seeing, you realize, every time his provocative persona misses its mark with you- Agent Peña, the man who puts up a shield of derisive disdain so no one gets too close, so no one wants to. Until someone comes along who says fuck that, for whatever reasons of their own- like Steve, who demanded that Javi let him in as much as he could stand to because they’re partners, damn it, for better or for worse. Like Connie, who informed him that your well-being is important to my husband’s, so by god, you’re going to let me care about you. Like you- his neighbor and wallmate who, despite being faced with Agent Peña's rakish side, could see that there was more under the surface than just blood oozing from a knife wound.

As if realizing the window this moment is giving you, Javier shakes himself free of it, pushing off the wall. “Well, I won’t keep you up any longer,” he says gruffly. “Thanks for...this.” He gestures to the coffee table behind the couch you’re leaning on, the silent tv static jittering on the wine and pastries.

You stand too, unhurried. “Thank you, Javier. For the company, as well,” you say with sincerity.

He nods, seeming torn, perpetually caught in some internal struggle around you. Finally, he says a single word in farewell, his voice a low caress: “Vecinita.”

He starts for the door without waiting for a reply. Blinking in surprise, you spin in place. “Buenas noches, Javi,” you call, hoping your understanding reaches him.

You think it does, because he pauses for a second with his hand on the doorknob; before, with a last glance, exiting, leaving the hope kindling in your chest as the only proof it really happened.

Javier has a hard time focusing at work the next day. He and Steve have a lot of paperwork to get through, mostly material from their recent mission, but every time he shifts in his shitty desk chair he remembers how comfortable your couch was. How at ease you seemed sitting next to him on it. How badly he wanted to reach out to you, see if you felt as soft as you looked in that setting.

“Fuck,” he swears. The paper in his hand is the same one he’s been staring at for the past ten minutes.

Huffing, he shoves his work aside, snatches up his jacket, and heads home early. But his apartment offers even fewer distractions, so with a growl of frustration, he downs a whiskey and stalks back to the door.

Only to be stopped in his tracks by Connie, standing on his stoop with a coffee pot in hand. She looks startled by his sudden appearance, her fist still raised to knock.

“Hi, Javi. I heard you get back a little while ago, and I haven’t seen you since you and Steve returned. I thought we could catch up.” She speaks tentatively, clearly wary of his black scowl and riled energy.

“Did she send you?” he asks, eyes narrowing, jutting his chin to indicate your door.

Connie frowns in confusion. “No, I won’t be seeing her for a a day or three. She’s got an intensive-care patient at the hospital who needs around-the-clock attention.” Her own eyes narrow. “Should she have sent me? Did you do something?”

“No,” Javier retorts curtly. “Just- didn’t know if this was brought on by some of your gossip, is all.” Resigned to his interrogation, he steps back, opening the door for her.

Connie continues to glare suspiciously as she passes, but heads into his kitchen nonetheless, getting out sugar and mugs in a familiar ritual. She knew better than to bother checking the fridge for milk.

Once seated in the dining room, however, she doesn’t pry any further about you, or what he may have done, only continuing a previous line of conversation from their last chat. It helps, but as she gets caught up telling some work story, Javier’s attention drifts again.

He inhales from the cigarette between his fingers, remembering the taste of the one last night, filtering through the flavors of cherry-dark wine and sugar-encrusted pastry. He had tried to keep some figurative distance between the two of you, but you didn’t seem to want it, closing the gaps with questions, always looking so damn interested when the answers pertained to him or his life. Were you that fascinated by all your ‘friends’?

Javi doesn’t notice that Connie is scrutinizing him again, just like he hadn’t noticed that she’s been silent for the past minute.

“What’s she doing up there?” Connie asks loudly.

Javier chokes mid-drag, and a wicked smirk overtakes her face.

“What,” he croaks, trying desperately not to look guilty.

“Your neighbor,” Connie clarifies. “That’s what you’re thinking about, right?” She looks far too smug with herself.

“Hah,” Javier scoffs, trying to ignore the shivery goosebumps at someone calling you ‘his’. Buying time, he takes another long drag, letting it numb the sting from his cough.

Sometimes he wondered why he let himself get sucked into these coffee chats. They so rarely seemed to go well for him.

“Come on, Javier,” Connie coaxes. “I know there’s something between you two. Do you wanna talk about it?” A genuine offer, not just merciless teasing. She’s managed to wipe most of the mirth from her face, leaving a sympathetic expression behind.

He rubs his thumb along his mustache as he sighs a long stream of smoke from the corner of his mouth. “I don’t know what’s between us,” he finally says. “I’m not- I don’t do relationships.”

He isn’t sure he remembers how to. Nothing about his life here is suited to them- it’s intense, harsh, dangerous. Not to mention his network of CIs, who he pays for sex as well as information.

“Why not?” Connie asks simply.

A glance at her face tells Javier that it’s a serious question. He snorts. Lounging back in his chair, he raises a contemptuous eyebrow at her. “You can’t honestly tell me the DEA lifestyle is helping your marriage.”

Her face tightens, and he feels a pang of guilt. But he resolutely pushes it away- Connie knows who he is, she asked for this conversation- “My marriage isn’t up for discussion here,” she says evenly. “And besides, don’t you think that’s something for her to decide? She knows what you do, she sees you almost every day. She told me she was helping you with something- do you think she’d let herself get close to you if she was scared of your ‘lifestyle’?”

He doesn’t let it show how deeply her word affects him; but like ink dropping into water, he feels a ripple of shock. The change of color as his thoughts cloud, churn with sudden optimism. Because Connie was right, you had helped him- with a fucking secret stab wound, for christ’s sake. You’d already seen the blood and the secrets, understood that his life came with risks- and helped him without further explanation.

Javier brings the cigarette to his lips again without tasting it, unseeing gaze fixed ahead. Possible though it is that you’re not put off by the danger which hounds him, it still doesn’t mean you want to be more than friends. That was what you’d said, right? ‘Friends are a thing people have.’

But there was also what you hadn’t said last night. That- as long as it was for reasons other than feeling like he owed you- he was allowed to want to sleep with you.

Suddenly he slumps forward onto his elbows, sighing. The wrinkles on his forehead ache as he smooths his thumb over them. “I don’t know how close she wants to get,” Javi mumbles. He might be experienced at sex with women, but forming conections based on what was beneath the skin...well, not only was he rusty, but it required a frankly terrifying amount of vulnerability that he wasn’t sure he was up for.

Connie softens. “Listen, Javi, I saw the way she was looking at you during movie night. She’s interested in you, no matter how much you think she does or doesn’t know. Just- see what happens, or…ask her.” With her last words she shrugs matter-of-factly, content to drop the subject now that she’s delivered her thoughts.

His lips twist, the only begrudging acknowledgement he gives as he reflects on this. He picks up his mug and swirls the dregs of the coffee his friend had poured for him- black, like he usually takes it. He takes a sip.

For the first time, he thinks it could use a little sugar.

A/N: Get it, because he needs some of READER’S sugar AYOOOO...I’ll leave now lmao.

Spanish note for the less linguistically inclined: ‘Vecinita’ is the word ‘Vecina’ (Neighbor) plus the suffix ‘-ita’, which is attached to words as a way of describing them as ‘small’. So literally translated it says ‘little (feminine) neighbor’, but! This suffix is also used to say things in an affectionate way, so you could put it on the end of someone’s name (ie Pedrito <3), or on the end of another noun to indicate a nickname. (Disclaimer, I only speak Italian, but it has this same concept, so I think I did it right. Someone pls tell me if I did not). It’s used very casually, so it’s not really as deep as it sounded in Reader and Javi’s moment, but it was deep for Javi okay!!!

The dessert this chapter is named after translates to ‘Gloria pastries’, which according to Google, is a popular Columbian pastry. I have not actually ever encountered one of these personally, but I’ve had all the ingredients individually, so I cannot imagine them not being DELICIOUS all together. Here is a recipe I fully intend to try (it uses mozzarella cheese, but other sources say you can use any plain/white/farmer’s cheese). Guava paste is a really yummy, thick puree (think jam, but thick enough to stay in slab form at room temp) of guava fruit (obvs), which I’ve used in recipes before! I found it in a regular Weis market in central Pennsylvania lmao so I would guess it to be a thing you can find across the US. Arequipe is just another name for dulce de leche. I gotta get me and my sweet tooth to Columbia!!

Fic Taglist: @din-damn-djarin, @thirstworldproblemss, @remembertoreadthese

#javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #narcos fic #narcos #javier peña #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #shoutout to my boss for getting sick so I could have the last two days off to finish this #(he's fine tho it's not covid)

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mggpleasedontlookhere · 4 years

Text

it should’ve been you pt. 2

summary: after getting suspended after the incident on the jet, y/n has a hard time dealing with the aftermath of the situation, only then she realizes that her and spencer are one and the same

word count: 3,825 reading time aprox: 14 mins

masterlist

part 1

3 months.

It has been 3 months since Spencer had been charged with suspension in participating in any cases. In regards to the reprimands brought upon me by Hotch, I had received a mere 1 month of suspension for my violent act on the jet.

Truth be told, the 1 month was worth it

The words that ardently escaped Spencer’s lips that day sat perpetually ingrained on my mind, next to the lingering memory of his belligerent eyes. Despite my indignation of Spencer’s behavior, his words added to the ever growing grief of Ryler’s death, self reproach fueling my mind.

But at the end of the day, some of the blame could be brought on Spencer. He should’ve spoke up sooner if he had clue that I wasn’t efficient in the field. He should’ve done something to prevent Ryler’s death.

Right?

I had just gotten back from my suspension, completing the final reports of a case and handling the tedious paper work that nobody wanted to deal with. I wasn’t permitted to investigate any cases with the team yet considering that I was still under surveillance. But I kept my distance from them, especially Hotch, knowing his attention would linger on me slightly longer than the other agents.

I sighed, finishing up the latter of reports and standing up to submit the files to Hotch. As I ventured through the lively commotion of agents and supervisors, I spotted the team near the kitchenette of the bullpen. They were all in a fit of laughter, a sight that was infrequent with the career we possessed. A bubbling sensation burned in my stomach as I watched their faces contort in bliss. I clenched my fingers around the reports, creating small indents on the corners of the files, while a grimace replaced the once nonchalant expression I displayed. I shook my head in disapproval, then trudged off to get my task over with.

They should be working, not fucking around. If only I were there, maybe things would get done faster

Barging into Hotch’s office, I discarded the work at the front of his desk, muttering a small sentence that indicated I was finished. I didn’t dare to entertain his unrelenting scrutiny, knowing well that he was already halfway into profiling my demeanor. “If that’s all, I can go back to my desk...” I said, the tone of my voice monotonous and lifeless. “Sir” I nodded, using his silent response as a signal to leave.

“Agent Y/L/N” He interrupted, setting the paper work I finished aside along with other files that camouflaged the surface of his oak desk. “Take a seat please” He suggested, gesturing to the two office chairs that faced him. I complied still not meeting his gaze, settling down in front of him, as I fiddled with the threads at the ends of my blazer.

“Y/L/N” He repeated, only this time I looked straight into his eyes. “We’re happy to have you back in our unit” He began, a sense of sternness in his voice, similar to one a parent would use to scold their child. “I hope you took this opportunity as a break away from all the chaos we deal with” He lightheartedly joked, an amiable smile apparent of his face.

Despite his change in demeanor, my feelings of resentment coexisted beside his expressions of colloquialism. “Me, taking a break from work or was it so the team can take a break from me and Dr. Reid?” I challenged, folding my hands on my lap.

“Y/L/N” He disrupted lifting an apprehensive hand. “I’m aware of the tension between you and Reid ever since what happened back in New York, so I made the decision to give you and him the opportunity to-” He justified.

“No sir, with all due respect, your agents are out there laughing their asses off instead of working. Yet I’m the one who’s being put under scrutiny for being human?” I asserted, standing up from where I sat. “Yes I made a mistake. But for months Reid has done nothing but bludgeon everything I work for in the bureau and none of you have ever done anything about it” I scoffed as I paced in front of his desk.

“Y/L/N I’d have you know that me and the team have had numerous conversations with Reid about what hap-”

“YES THAT’S MY POINT!” I exclaimed, raising my voice slightly, although that didn’t last long due to the cautious stare I received from Hotch. “You’ve always checked up on Reid, but what about me?” I spit, narrowing my eyes at Hotch, noticing the discernible silence I received as a response. “Aren’t I part of this team? Because frankly ever since that case in Manhattan it seems like everyone can’t decide whether to blame me or pity me” I admitted, looking over to the window where I had a clear view of the people of my unit.

“Y/L/N please take a seat” He commanded, but I declined standing my ground. He sighed, tucking in his blazer as he stared at me in disbelief. “Y/L/N I’m sorry if you’ve ever felt like that but you’re on this team as much as Reid is” He claimed, an empathetic tone surrounding each word that emitted from his lips. “You’ve made a mistake and yes, it’s affected a majority of the team, but take this opportunity to grow from that mistake” He consoled, his eyes softening back into a lamentable gaze. “Use this to be a better agent” He stood up, walking over to where I was positioned and placed an affable palm to my shoulder.

Vulnerability is often used as a bridge between the connection of others. It’s used to initiate an understanding bond, to break people down to their foundations, and to help one to recognize that people aren’t alone when it comes to implications in life. Although vulnerability wasn’t the theme of mine and Hotch’s interaction.

It was pity

“Is that what you think will make me feel better? T-to make me feel accepted into this team?” I ridiculed, snatching my shoulder away from his overbearing touch. Incredulity seemed to fuel the words leaving my mouth as my glare advertised bitterness. “Do you think I’m that incompetent? That a few appraising and heartfelt words are going to make me fall in line?” I challenged.

“Y/N, please don’t make this diff-”

“DON’T ‘Y/N’ ME, HOTCH” I warned, knowing I set off an alarm inside of him as he backed off in reluctance. I knew I had attracted a few curious ears from outside of the office, but I was too blinded by my oncoming emotions to act with clarity and reason.

“YOU K-KNEW” I stuttered, my hands beginning to tremble at my sides as I wiped the sweat accumulating on them. “You knew that I wasn’t r-ready. I WASN’T READY!”.

My mind had accelerated to a thousand miles per hour, I felt numb at every word I had verbalized as if my cerebrum had malfunctioned. I hadn’t even noticed the tears that had dampened the apples of my cheeks. “Y-you knew I-i wasn’t ready, a-and you...let me go in” I sucked in a staggered breath, feeling my esophagus cinch up at the sudden inhale. “You k-killed him” I whispered through my gritted teeth, feeling all loss of competence. At this point my hormones were driving my actions, “You KILLED him” I accused, flailing my hands at his direction.

“Y/L/N go home, you’re not stable enough to be back here yet” He stated monotonously, striding back to his chair in a collected manner.

“What?” I spewed.

“Y/L/N it’s obvious that you need more time. I’m giving you a 2-weeks-leave, and I suggest you take it” He replied, taking a moment to look up at me. “I can assign you the bureau’s therapist, Dr. Montgomery, if you would like”

“N-no Hotch, are you kidding me?” I scoffed in defiance.

“Y/L/N I will have you escorted out of the building if you don’t follow my direct orders, understood?” He threatened, peering into my eyes. “Now go home” He sighed, looking over some files without giving me a second glance.

I huffed in disbelief, pulling open his office door to make an exit, ready to dash out of the room, until his words broke my stride. “Oh and Y/L/N” He spoke up, making me spin around to look at him one last time.

“While you’re on that break...learn to forgive yourself too”

From the time that phrase came out of his mouth to where I stood now seemed like a blur. The autumn drizzle trickled from my forehead to the base of my chin as the sky darkened; an omen to the place where my feet had lead me.

Spencer’s apartment

Stepping a foot into the complex, the coldness of the water droplets on my skin masked the fear that hid behind the many layers of antipathy, turbulence, and helplessness.

I felt paralyzed, contrary to my feet that continued to venture through the halls to find Spencer’s residence, my unconscious mind remembering the very dinner party the team organized months ago to celebrate the new addition to the BAU: me.

My range of emotions had thrown me into a downward spiral, feeling everything then feeling nothing simultaneously. It was as if I was drowning then pulled up to be given air, only to repeat the process continuously. I knew to blame myself, but I couldn’t help but bear to place the accountability to the members of my team because the weight was too heavy for me to hoist.

I am selfish, I am weak, and I hate every part of that.

My anger became the device to alienate myself from others. My loss of control lead my impulsivity to fester and lash out on the ones who only wanted to help. Finally, my ignorance costed me my impartial and sensible mind. It allowed me to turn a blind eye to any impurities that didn’t corroborate with my narrative.

I twisted the facts to match the theories, rather than twist the theories to the facts.

At the foundation of it all, the matter derived from my inability to conquer my grief in a sufficient approach. Although at that affair, I remained alone...almost. The only other creature who had endured more than they can handle was Spencer.

Despite out disagreements, we held one thing in common: the event that defined our declarations of hate towards one another.

So here I have my feet planted complementary to his front door, my arms glued to my side, and my head hanging low as I raised a skeptical fist to knock.

With the first attempt to gather his attention, the was no response except the buzzing of the radiators that hummed throughout the building’s halls. With another set of knocks, scuffling feet could be heard coming closer to the entrance and every thud against the floor, elevated my heart rate. When the door had flung open, it wasn’t Spencer that I had witnessed.

It was a ghost of him.

At least that’s what it had looked like to me. Spencer sported his head of hair like a bird’s nest, his clothes looked besmirched, his silhouette appeared scraggy, but most of all his face looked inert and lacked pigment.

In spite of my initial impression, his emotion ridden expression gained it’s flare back at the acknowledgment of my appearance. He was about to turn away, pushing the door closed when I stuck a foot in the crevice of the door frame, causing me to wince in agony.

This caused Spencer to return his focus onto me, fixating at my foot that obstructed the door. “If you think that hurts, try getting stabbed” He mentioned maliciously, referring to the death of his comrade. I ignored his snarky comment, pushing the door ajar to face him. “What do you want Y/L/N?” He deadpanned, holding an emphatic countenance.

I composed myself, sighing as I explained that I wanted the opportunity to discuss the latter with him, and to my surprise he obliged, diffident to let me enter.

I took in the unveiling of his home. The walls were lined with bookshelves that contained a copious assortment of books that ranged from education to recreational. Renaissance art was found in between some of the shelving units, but the one thing that caught my attention were the various frames that surrounded Spencer’s childhood pictures. Although, the majority of the portraits were only of him and his mother; his father only making a debut in earlier pictures.

“I thought you were here to talk, not profile where I live” Spencer commented, interrupting the inquisitive observations I’ve made of his place. I mumbled a quaint apology, finding myself a chair to sit on as Spencer did the same.

Apprehension preoccupied the silence that followed after we took our seats. I fiddled with my hands, running over my lines and organizing my thoughts as I thought twice about my presentation.

“It wasn’t my fault”

“What?” Spencer spoke, tilting his head at me in bewilderment.

“It wasn’t my fault that Ryler died...It was my choice” I began, pushing the loose hairs behind my ears as I sat up straight. “I made that choice to follow through and go in, knowing I was going against Hotch’s warnings and that-” I paused, gazing into his emotionless stare.

“Killed Ryler” Spencer deadpanned, continuing off where I couldn’t finish. I nodded in compliance, the same feeling of dread creeping up my stomach, similar to how I felt on the crime scene.

“There’s no amount of ‘sorrys’ I can say that will ever fill that void that’s in-bedded in the team...but at the same time, th-there’s nothing I can do to bring him back, Reid” I declared.

He wore a tight-lipped grimace, staring at the wall behind me coldly. “Yeah, there’s nothing you can do to bring him back” He scoffed. “You’re wasting your time being here” He professed, shaking his head with hostility.

I pinched the bridge of my nose as I bent over to place my head on my hands, feeling the overbearing sensation of frustration bubble over the sentiment. “Yes I know Reid” I disclosed, animosity slowing slipping into the enunciation of my words. “I just- I don’t always want to be in quarrel with you whenever we’re at work” I confessed. “I just need you to-”

“To what?” Spencer cut me off mid sentence. “To forgive you?” He jeered, narrowing his eyes at me in vengeful amazement.

“Spencer-”

“You want me to FORGIVE you?” He stood up from his seat, walking over one of the bookshelves adjacent to the window. The faint sunset beamed an orange tinted glare through the drizzle and into the living room, giving pigment to Spencer’s skin as his back faced me. “Am I just supposed to forget about him like everyone has already, am I supposed to pretend that everything’s back to normal without him?” He questioned, running his finger along the spines of a select novels.

“I’m not telling you to forget Ryler, and it’s not like the team doesn’t honor-” I began, but was cut off abruptly by Spencer’s spiteful words.

“Are you fucking kidding me Y/N?!” He exclaimed, turning around to glare at me. “For the past couple of months, no one- and I mean NO ONE has mentioned Ryler. I-it’s as if NOBODY CARES” He shook his head in frustration, running his hand through his curls.

“That-s not tru-”

“THAT’S NOT TRUE!” He blurted out, an incredulous expression planted on his face. “Name one person, aside from me that had thought about Ryler in the past month” He challenged, making determined strides towards where I sat.

Veins began protruding on his forehead as he came closer, the wrinkles on his forehead became indistinguishable, despite the sun masking his face in an angelic light. “I- um” I gulped, unable to recall any mentions of the agent.

“Exactly” Spencer deadpanned, walking back over to the shelves.

“But that doesn’t give you an excuse to berate me” I uttered quietly, feigning a collected composure where the confidence lacked. I pushed myself up from my seat, promenading up to where he stood. “You can’t assume the future of my career based on a mistake I made” I stood parallel to his back, reaching a hand up to place on his shoulder, but proceeded to hesitate, leaving them at my sides. “You don’t have to forgive me Reid, but at least forgive yourself” I spoke, reiterating the same words Hotch passed onto me before leaving the office.

I saw his shoulders lose tension as he sucked in a breath, his fingers unraveled from his balled fists while he hung his head low. On the cue of his sedated composure, I placed a decided grasp on his shoulder in attempt to soothe the rigid atmosphere.

Unbeknownst to my perception of the situation, Spencer suddenly grabbed a hold of my wrist, flipping me over to where my back hit the bookshelves with immense force, sending a painful chill down my spine. I winced as the rivets of the metal screws scratched the soft skin of my lower back. Although this didn’t prevent Spencer from further pinning my body into the shelves while his firm fingers dug into my wrists. “What makes you think you can tell me what to do or what to feel” He whispered darkly, a menacing grimace taking it’s form on his mouth.

I resisted against his grip, but his strength proceeded to show itself through my inability to overpower him. Fueled with frustration, I bore at him with a vindictive sneer. “Reid, fucking let me go” I muttered through gritted teeth. “I swear to fucking god Reid, let me the FUCK GO!” I challenged, pushing harder against his tall frame.

He responded to my catty reactions with an arrogant smirk. “Look at you writhing under me” He patronized, his face shadowing over mine as his breath fanned over my own. “You’re a weak bitch Y/N” He continued, his eyes lingering on my bottom lip. “You’re an even worse agent” He inched closer at an achingly sluggish pace. I felt my lips twitch in anticipation as his mouth hovered over my own.

So, I took the opportunity to spit at him.

He stumbled back in surprise, wiping my saliva that landed inches away from the bridge of his nose. “What the fu-” He spewed, looking at me incredulously. But I took no hesitation to make determined strides at him.

“You have no right to call me a bad agent. You have no right to call me weak” I heaved, shoving him at his shoulders. “Especially when you can’t even face your own feelings” I verbalized, glaring at him. “You’re a coward” I muttered, glaring up at him as we were chest to chest.

Both of us stood in our own heated ambiance, the silence amplifying the intensity of the circumstances. I could feel the sweat dripping off of my forehead as I witnessed a crack in his arrogant countenance. His hard features relaxed into a woeful expression as the fight of reason in his mind intensified. But I didn’t have the time to wait on his judgement. So with a novel sanguine air, I began marching right up to his front door with the persistence to leave all the negative energy behind me.

That was until he spoke up

“Y/N I-”

I shook my head, resting my hand on his doorknob. “No Spencer, you listen” I turned around to face him, leaning my back on the oak surface of the door. “You don’t get to defame my career, I’ve worked too hard for this and out of all the people in the world, I thought you’d understand” I stated, pushing myself up the door so I was no longer leaning on it.

“Y/N-”

“I made a mistake, but that mistake’s going to make me a better agent. I can’t take back his death and I can’t make it up to you, but all I can do is make his death count” I persisted, my legs venturing back to where we stood prior to my attempted exit. He stared back at me with an afflicted gaze that hid behind a feigned emotionless expression. “I’ve spent months blaming myself for his death...” I positioned myself across from him, reciprocating a compassionate expression that contrasted from his own visage. “And I think you do the same too” I remarked, taking my bottom lip between my teeth as I expressed my concerns.

For the first time, Spencer didn’t know what to say. Not statistical fact or analytical approach would resolve the woman that stood confidently before him.

“You’re right” He admitted, sighing as he combed the back of his head. His eyes flickered to the prominent features of my face, then back to the apparently interesting view of the floor. He shut his eyes in defeat, dragging both of his hands over his face as if it was to bring clarity and closure swiftly to him. “I-i didn’t how to...th-then everyone started forgetting- and I couldn’t” He desperately was at a loss of words. “I’m sorry Y/N” He repented, laying a hesitant yet tender hand on the side of my arm.

“As much as I appreciate you apologizing to me Spencer-” I laid my hand over his own, clutching onto it in a solacing grasp. “You seriously need to figure yourself out first” I sighed, using my fingers to tilt his chin up to disrupt his forlorn expression. “You need to learn how to forgive yourself Spencer, and I’m not the one to say because I’m still figuring that out myself, but that’s the only way you’re ever going truly move forward”

He cringed at my mention of the future. I noticed the cogs running in that brain of his, unable to process his grief. I could tell he was still holding onto a lot of baggage, the pained look he wore revealing it all. “I shouldn’t have told you that it should’ve been you back there” He apologized, referring to the whole conflict that unfolded on the jet. “I don’t know how to do it Y/N” He confessed. “I c-can’t just move on like that”

“Nobody’s asking you to Spencer” I consoled. “We can never really be able to move on completely. But that’s a part of living, it’s remembering that gives our life meaning”

“Well actually, traumatic occurrences can actually be repressed by the unconscious mind in order to dissociate th-” He rambled, a faint smile tugging on the corners of his lips.

“Don’t ruin the sentiment Reid” I laughed, nudging him playfully. He reciprocated the same gesture, reverting back to a more relaxed visage.

“Thank you...Y/N” He spoke passionately, pulling me into an amicable embrace. I breathed into his shoulder, taking in the seldom occasion as all the hatred that existed in the room previously, dissipated.

“You’re always welcome...Spence”

A/N:

that’s a wrap, im actually really proud of this so i hope you all enjoy it. tell me whatcha think about it after :)

i honestly was struggling with how to end the whole thing, so i compromised on an angsty-fluff/platonic but not really ending, if that at all makes sense lmao, anyways have an amazing day

taglist: @a-dorky-book-keeper @ilovespencereid @fancystarlightpirate @aperrywilliams @liaabsurd @thatsonezesty13 @ashwarren32 @ithinkilovetruecrimetoomuch @yoongi-holland @guessthatswhyiliveinhell @peterspickledpepper @tiktokslut @britishspidey @marciscaspar @ tteessaa13 @marylanddgirly @todaynotseen

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forsakenoathkeeper · 3 years

Text

I Am Alive (chapter 17/?)

Chapter 17: The Bridge

Deviant!Connor[RK800] x (fem!)Reader Rated M(18+) for canon-typical violence and gore, medical procedures, and graphic sexual content

Chapters: 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • 10 • 11 • 12 • 13 • 14 • 15 • 16 • 17 • more coming soon

You can also read on AO3 & thank you for supporting me ♥

The following morning, after waddling out of bed to use the restroom, you returned to see Connor waiting for you, flat on his back, arms spread invitingly, eyes looking suspiciously drowsy, despite the obvious fact that he had no need for sleep. You could have laughed at the innocent, adoring look in his eyes, if he wasn't naked and if last night's events had not occurred.

You crawled back into bed, nuzzled your cheek into the divot right beneath his clavicle, and tangled your legs, humming with delight when he pulled the blankets back over you and wrapped his arms around your back, smothering you in the warmth you had created together throughout the night.

"The weather has been warming up," he commented into your hair.

"Mhm," you agreed tiredly.

"I'm tasked with walking Sumo today," he continued quietly.

"Mhm," you hummed again.

"If you would like to accompany me again, I was thinking we could go to that park you told me about: the one you loved when you were a child..."

You leaned back to look up into his eyes, surprised he had remembered that; Connor was an android, so of course he did. But, still... Just because he remembered something didn't mean he had to designate it as important.

"It's a bit of a drive from Hank's place," you commented quietly, peering up to catch his magnificent, brown eyes.

"I don't think Sumo would mind," Connor replied sincerely.

You laughed softly, laying your head back on his chest. His fingers found the perfect place in your lower back to rest and he relaxed against you. Even though he wasn't tired at all, he understood how much you valued sleeping in on your off days, and decided to give you just a few more minutes.

Besides, if he was being honest, he was enjoying this.

...

Connor drove while you sat in the backseat with Sumo, one hand on the leash and the other on his back to keep him calm. You stared out the window, feeling like a kid again as you relived a drive from a long time ago. Connor had, unintentionally, taken the same route, likely because his GPS informed him it was the most efficient.

You passed all sorts of familiar places: a school that still had the ridiculously hideous orange paint job, a bank that never finished repairing the north brick wall, and a tree in someone's front yard that had grown at a strange angle.

Back then, it was too far of a drive to take often. It was an occasional treat that your grandmother would bring you when she was in a good mood. Hank had taken you and Cole here once or twice for a holiday themed festival.

When Connor pulled into a parking spot, you were amazed to find the place hadn't changed much at all.

There was a lake in the center of the park with a massive bridge that swept over the narrowest point, connecting seamlessly with a path that circled around the park in winding roads. The water was shimmering blue, lily pads along the edges of the water beneath the bridge. Beautiful, towering trees and flowering bushes lined the walkways. There was lush green grass throughout the grounds, and not a weed in sight.

You couldn't help but wonder who maintained the park these days. It was no secret that androids had almost exclusively taken over landscaping jobs in recent years. That would have come to an end with the revolution. Yet, somebody was still taking care of the place.

Connor approached the back door hastily when you stepped out. You were still holding tightly onto Sumo's collar, keeping a close eye on him when he hopped at the car, drooling excitedly.

"I don't think this park is safe for you," Connor warned you sharply.

You looked up at him with a startle, wondering what it was that had worried him.

"I have detected a pollen in the air that you are allergic to. I fear the consequences on your respiratory systems," he explained hastily, looking deadly serious and concerned.

Your worried expression faltered and you coughed out a laugh. "Almost everyone in the world has hay fever, Connor," you explained with a smile. The android's harsh expression didn't immediately dissipate; however, he did appear confused by how lightly you took the situation.

"Come on. Don't worry. All that's gonna happen is some sniffling and sneezing," you insisted, excitedly taking hold of his hand. "I can handle some pollen."

The android was stiff for a second, likely reevaluating his findings on pollen allergies. ‘Sniffling and sneezing’, as you had put it, didn’t seem to be a particularly harmful side effect to air born allergies.

"If you are certain," he replied, seemingly put at ease by your explanation.

Connor took the leash from your other hand and directed Sumo to the path ahead. The vehicle locked with an assuring beep as you walked away and he tucked the keys into his pants pocket.

The android found himself feeling oddly proud of the look you were wearing. Your touch on his hand had loosened as you took in the sights, feeling overwhelmed by nostalgia.

"I'm so glad you suggested this," you breathed as you approached the bridge.

You let go of Connor's hand and started trotting to get a head start. He was patient and let Sumo set the pace before eventually joining you at the highest point on the bridge, the top of the curve, and the very center. You leaned against the railing and looked over into the water.

Last time you were here, you were too small to see over the edge. Now, you easily could look into the shimmering waters below. Sumo came to a halt, as well, and stuck his face through the railing to look below. Connor would have been worried about the dog trying to jump; luckily, he was too wide to fit even if he tried.

The bridge creaked quietly beneath your feet with each step. Connor joined your side and leaned against the railing. The water beneath was almost perfectly clear. He could see a swarm of colorful fish frolicking, splashing about, clearly hoping that you were going to provide them with food.

The sun was poking out of the pale white clouds above, providing some warmth against the slight chill in the breeze. The trees rattled softly, leaves making a beautiful symphony. Some children were playing soccer in the field on the other side of the lake, laughing joyously. Some older ladies were sitting at a bench, reading together in silence. Couples were jogging together along the trails.

He felt more at peace with the world than he had in a long time.

Connor shifted his eyes away from the ambiance and took in your face. You looked as blissful as he felt, staring blindly ahead, the wind brushing through your hair and the sun's warmth tinting your cheeks pink. You took in a deep breath, as if it was the most delicious thing you had ever tasted.

"I love you," Connor said, so softly that you briefly considered that you had hallucinated.

Startled, your head whipped over to look at him. The look in his eyes, the burning adoration as the sun shimmered in his brown orbs, told you that you hadn't imagined his words.

"I wanted to tell you the night that you learned my manufactured purpose," he confessed with a soft smile. "But, I was afraid you wouldn't think it was sincere." You stared at him, eyes stinging and lips parted. "I'm not certain that I know what love is. But, I'm certain it is what I feel for you."

The soft look in the android's eyes morphed into concern when he saw a tear cascade down your cheek. You hastily lifted a hand to wipe it away, sniffling.

"I was supposed to say it first," you teased, trying to ease the emotions bubbling up. You dragged your sleeves across your face, trying to catch the tears as they fell.

"I love you, too," you whimpered, looking up at him with tear-stained eyes.

You felt something big and wet smear against the side of your knee and looked down to see Sumo nudging you with his nose. You huffed out a pathetic laugh. "I'm okay, Sumo."

Connor looked grateful when you looked back up at him, as if he hadn't anticipated you to reciprocate.

"I love you so much, Connor," you proclaimed, sniffling as you tried to hold back tears. You wiped your face hastily when more droplets began to fall.

"Please, don't cry," the android said, almost sadly, stepping in so close that he had to crane his neck to look down at you.

You doubted that he was aware that the face he was wearing was making it nearly impossible to stop crying. He looked so helplessly in love, and that face was looking at you - his brown eyes staring at you, that LED shining stunning gold as he worried about you.

All you could do was wonder what you had done to deserve such a thing - the love and adoration of this android, of this being you held in such high regard. He couldn’t have been more perfect if he tried.

"I'll cry if I want to," you huffed, hoping some attitude would calm you down.

Connor's forehead nuzzled against your temple. "I love you," he said again, and you recognized that tone as one of disobedience. Once, he believed that androids - machines - couldn't feel anything, couldn't want anything. That extended to himself, to what he thought were his own limitations. Yet, in that moment, Connor was strangely pleased that his confession had brought you to tears.

"Connor," you whimpered, scoldingly.

He didn't want you to be sad, to hurt, to suffer; but, these were tears of happiness. They were strangely beautiful, that you could feel so strongly for him. For whereas you saw Connor in a bright light that shined above all others, he saw himself as just another living being in the world, one of millions of androids.

-and, somehow, he found you before anyone else could.

"I love you," he said again, uttering the words against your cheek proudly.

You smacked a hand against his chest harmlessly, huffing, "I love you more."

"That's statistically impossible," he replied softly, apparent tease in his tone. "I assure you, my affections are stronger."

He smirked when you started grinning at him. "I will fight you, android," you huffed pathetically, laughing and crying at the same time.

"You don’t stand a chance against me," Connor teased quietly.

His free hand caressed your cheek and you felt his thumb brush along your skin, smearing tears. "I’ll show you," you retorted softly, eyes fluttering shut as you tried to will yourself to stop crying.

You felt his lips fall onto your forehead, the stubble on his chin prickly against your skin. For a second, you let yourself get lost in the moment, and felt his words repeat, echoing inside your head. It felt like you were living a dream, and you never wanted to wake up.

When you heard a distinctive tapping sound beneath you, you looked down to see Sumo had started walking away, his nails clicking against the wood of the bridge. Connor leaned away from you when he felt the leash tug on his hand. You flashed him a smile and then started following after the saint bernard, glancing at the android over your shoulder.

He followed without hesitation, stepping in so close that his shoulder smacked against yours. You met halfway, hand clasped tight and fingers interlacing, a gesture that had become natural. The moment hadn't faded, but your desire to cry subsided. Connor's hand felt warm and all you could think about was what wonderful things were to come.

"On our way back to Hank's place, let's get takeout," you said, changing the subject. "That man can't use chopsticks and that's simply a crime."

"Nothing that some positive reinforcement can't fix," Connor agreed.

#connor x reader #deviant connor x reader #dbh fanfic #rk800 x reader #rk800 smut #connor smut

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sinner-as-saint · 4 years

Text

Predestined - 3.

Part 3 of the Predestined series.

Run-through: Your wealthy family marries you off to a family friend’s son – famous businessman Sebastian. You two have known each other for a long time, so none of you oppose your families’ decisions. Life as Sebastian’s wife is pure bliss, he’s everything a woman could ever want. Until a certain secret of his resurfaces, and once it does – nothing in your lives is ever the same again.

Themes throughout the series: ceo!seb, fluff, smut – ish, mob!bucky

Sebastian knew it from the start.

All he needed was a solid confirmation from Bucky, and now he had it. Sebastian wasn’t mad, not even in the least. Because what he and you had was more than just love, or marriage – it was a healthy relationship wrapped in a cocoon of trust, loyalty, and friendship before anything else. And whatever, or whoever was to come in between you; he knew nothing would change in between you two.

He couldn’t risk losing you nor would he force anything on you, but if you’d be okay with it – alterations could be made; for the better.

He saw it in your eyes as well that night, when he turned in for the night after having a deep, heartfelt conversation with his brother. He saw that you were trying to hide something. And he hated it because he wanted you to be transparent with him.

He made love to you again that night, whispering how much he loves you in your ear constantly. Kissing every inch of your body, and not holding back. He was sweet and loving, and just a little rough as always. You could see the excitement in his eyes. When you laid in bed after, bodies tired and tangled together – you and Sebastian talked about things in general. And he noticed you were less chatty than usual.

His hands rubbed your bare back gently and he pulled you into him more. “Everything alright, baby? Why are you so quiet?”

You didn’t reply, but your eyes watered a little, and you tried to hide it by pushing your face into his chest. But he caught it, because he knew you too well.

“I love you. I love you Seb, a lot.” You whispered against his skin, letting his scent and his warmth wrap around you like a protective cocoon. Being close to Sebastian always made you feel so safe, that sometimes you thought you were way too dependent on him.

He sighed and kissed the top of your head and pulled you closer. “You know you can tell me anything, right babe?”

You nodded.

It was confusing, to you. You had never felt this way before; so confused, your head so foggy, and your feelings so messy. You didn’t want it to be that way, but it felt like it was inevitable for some reasons. It wasn’t unpleasant, or awkward or weird – just unexpected.

Just one word. Bucky.

Not that you blamed him, but it felt like he was here for a reason. If one were to explain it, metaphorically, it’d go something like this; you and Sebastian were comfortable and free and unconditionally in love and content, in your relationship – your home. Not that there was ever a lack of something, or a void, or a spot that absolutely needed to be filled at all cost – but there was healthy space. There was room, in that home, to comfortably accommodate someone else if they were to be part of you two.

And you didn’t hate it, nor did Sebastian. But it surprised you how well Bucky fit that room, and how comfortably he had made himself in it.

Your guilt wasn’t due to how well Bucky had made himself at home, not only in your actual house, but also alongside you and Sebastian. But it was due to how well things were, and how steady you and Sebastian were with the new addition.

Bucky’s contribution in this didn’t need to be addressed verbally. It was peaceful, and effortless. Natural. Like it was meant to be. As though predestined.

Getting back to your husband’s question, you felt the need to apologize again. “I’m sorry.”

Perhaps you apologized to yourself. I’m sorry for feeling bad that things are actually great. I’m sorry I can’t be happy that things are going great because the reason behind it is out of the norm. And I’m not used to that.

“Don’t apologize. I understand how you feel babe, but it’s okay. If none of us give up, this can be a good thing, no?” he pulled away to look at you. And a tear, being a traitor, escaped your eye. Sebastian was quick to wipe it away and kiss your forehead.

“But, I love you.” you sounded just a little lost.

Sebastian chuckled and pulled you closer. “That’s the thing about love, baby. You are allowed to feel the same way about more than one person at a time. As long as you’re not hurting anyone involved.” He paused and leaned down to kiss your lips. “But right now, the only person you’re hurting is yourself.” He kissed you again, pushing on down on your back again and hovering above you.

He looked you in the eyes and smiled. A genuine, I-know-what-you’re-thinking smile. “Talk to me baby, come on.” He spoke again.

You just sighed and reached out to touch his face, and traced his lips. “But it’s not right to feel that way. We’re married, Seb.” You knew he understood what you meant perfectly. Which was one of the many reasons you were totally in love with Sebastian for – he understood you better than yourself.

Sebastian chuckled. “Funny enough, he pointed out the same thing.” He said, leaning in to gently rub the tip of his nose to yours. “Tell me something, are we a pair who always abides by the rules?”

He made you crack a little smile despite your watering eyes as you thought about every single time you and Sebastian had done things which were a little risqué and a little out of the norm. From Sebastian sneaking into your room to see you hours before your wedding, to all those times you fucked on balconies and bathrooms at your parents’ parties, to going skinny dipping in his parents’ pool at midnight when you stayed over that one night. Till now; this situation.

“No, but this… Seb, I…” you paused and took a deep breath. “My relationship with you is the most perfect and the most amazing that’s ever happened to me. It would kill me if I ruined things due to mixed feelings, or a mistake perhaps. I don’t know. All I know is, I’m in love with you, and… but-,”

He finished it for you.

“But you’re beginning to like him too.”

You sighed, but you didn’t deny it. Sebastian leaned down to kiss your neck and mumbled against your skin. “Tell me, baby.”

You did like Bucky. That comfortable room which your relationship had could only be filled by him, and you both knew that.

“I shouldn’t.” you replied, as the thoughts of Bucky filled your head. Sebastian let out a little laugh.

Sebastian knew. From the very beginning, perhaps even since the day you got married, that one day would come when Bucky would pop up in his life – and he’d be here to stay. He remembered how when they were young boys, since they absolutely had to have what the other was having; their mom would always joke about how if this continues, one day they’d have to share a woman. Back then, they laughed at the thought of it. But not anymore.

Bucky was a part of Sebastian that he couldn’t lose, not again. And you were a part of him which he couldn’t lose either. He loved the two of you too much to let one go.

“But you do.” He confirmed, and chuckled. “You two are driving me crazy with all these theatrics. Bucky’s over there being dramatic and you’re hiding things from me now?” he gently nudged your face with his. “Baby, would you like some time to figure things out? I don’t want to rush you, but I need you to remove every single doubt in your head.”

You nodded. And he kissed your forehead. “Okay, mom and dad are hosting a ball this Sunday, and they want me to check out the location and make sure everything is fine. So, I’m gonna be gone all day tomorrow. You and Bucky should hang out and talk.” He spoke leisurely, kissing your skin occasionally.

You got nervous, and he sensed it.

“Seb…”

“Hey, it’ll be okay. He likes you too.” Sebastian smirked. “Mom was right.” he added; more so to himself, and you didn’t really understand but you let it go.

“I love you. I don’t want you to think that I… Seb, this is- I love you, okay? I need you to know that nothing’s changed between us. You… you’re everything to me.” You had begun tearing up again.

Sebastian got on his side and pulled your body into his. “I know. I love you too, baby. You and I have something no one can take away.” He kissed your face again. “I know you’re a little nervous, but we’ll be okay. All three of us.” He paused. “He’s my brother, and he means a lot to me. And you’re my wife, I love you more than anything. I can’t lose either of you. We’re gonna be okay, baby.”

---

The next morning, you woke up feeling butterflies in your stomach. You looked around and Sebastian was nowhere to be found. You checked your phone and found that he had texted you that he was leaving, and that Bucky was downstairs and if you didn’t want him to burn your kitchen, you should probably check up on him.

As you got ready for the day; you prepared for the awkwardness which would follow once you got down those stairs. You knew Sebastian and Bucky had talked about things, and you and Sebastian had talked as well. But you never talked to Bucky one to one about this specific situation.

There was this pull whenever he was around. There was this sense of satiation when he was close by. Not quite like a missing piece of a puzzle, because you and Sebastian weren’t incomplete, but more like another hand in helping to steady something a little better. Every good thing was, just better.

You braced yourself for heavy silence and awkwardness in the air as you walked into the kitchen; but you found none of that.

What you did found, was a smiling Bucky waiting on you. With plates of breakfast already set.

And that man was bold. He walked right over and gave you a kiss on the forehead, “Good morning, I made breakfast. Without burning your kitchen down.” He winked at you as he pulled away.

You smiled and calmed your nerves.

Surprisingly, breakfast was amazing. Both the food and the company.

Bucky told you a lot more about him than you thought he would. He told you how in his bratty teen years, he had an argument with his dad and how he left home in a fit of rage. And he was facing monetary issues so he started working for this man whom he later found out, was involved with the mob.

“I had no choice but to be part of them. And then, one thing led to another. I was young and I got used to the rush and the money, and before I even realized it, I was at the top and had people working for me.” He paused and looked at you, “That’s pretty much it about me.”

He sounded so much like he was trying to impress you.

Sat on the couch in the living room, you and Bucky talked for a long time, and each time you were just looking for the right time to bring up your situation.

Then you finally did.

“You and Sebastian, um… talked last night?” you asked. And he immediately sat up straight. Bucky nodded, and gave you a soft look – resembling the one Sebastian had the habit of giving you. Oh well, they were brothers after all.

“We did.” he waited for a moment, then spoke again. “If you think that I’m overstepping a line, then I want you to tell me. And I’ll leave, I promise.” He stopped, but something told you he had a lot more to say.

“I don’t want you to leave.” you spoke, looking at your hands in your lap. “And neither does Seb.” You added.

Not even a second later, Bucky reached out to place his hand on top of yours, squeezing your hand gently, and he inched closer. “I’ve been catching feelings for you, since day one.” He waited for you to look up at him and he spoke again. “I just- I, uh… I know that this might- fuck.” He swore under his breath as he stuttered. And then spoke again. “Okay, I – can I kiss you? Please.”

He looked just as nervous about his emotions as you were last night.

You nodded and looked down at his lips momentarily, before looking back into his ocean blue eyes again. You leaned forward gently, and he did as well. Your lips met midway.

His kiss was much gentler than the first time you and him kissed on accident. He was careful this time, cautious that he might overstep any line.

Your heart fluttered, just like it did each time you kissed Sebastian. You spine tingled, just like it did when you kissed Sebastian. Nothing felt forced, nothing felt out of place or awkward. Bucky pulled away and rested his forehead against yours before leaning in to kiss you again.

And it got a little heated; him tugging on your lip and you pushed your tongue into his mouth. He slid his hand into your hair, and you leaned forward and soon straddled his lap. He moaned into the kiss, getting needy. His scent and his taste took over your senses, and you gently trailed your hand down his torso and slipped a hand under his sweater. And he let out a little laugh, pulling away.

“Hey, we have plenty of time.” He mumbled against your lips, and you giggled.

“Scared I’m gonna take advantage of you now that my husband isn’t here?” you joked, and he laughed; letting his hands rest on either side of your waist. The lack of awkwardness was really comforting. You barely even tried, things just worked out smoothly between the two of you – like it did with Sebastian.

“Oh very scared.” He played along and shook his head as he laughed. “I just wanna make sure we’re on the same page. So are you gonna do it, or…?” he trailed off, tilting his head to the side and tried giving you a very serious look but you saw the mischief in his eyes.

You smiled at him. “Do what?” you asked, sliding your hand in his hair and mindlessly playing with his dark locks of hair.

“Confess your little crush on me, finally.” He raised his eyebrow at you, smugly, as he waited. Sebastian was right, he was indeed very dramatic.

You laughed. And confessed.

“I like you.” you said softly and he had a goofy smile on his face as he leaned in and gave you an inuit kiss and pressed his forehead against yours gently, securing his arms around you and feeling your warmth.

“I like you too.” And just for the sake of the on-going joke he added, whispering, “But don’t tell your husband.”

a/n: lol

---

Tag List for this series (OPEN):

@0501m

@unsent-voicemail

@nostalthicc

@dumbbitch11

@sweetlittlegingy

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Seb tag list:

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Everything Tag List:

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out-of-jams · 4 years

Text

Rules of the Game || jhs

↠ Rules of the Game ↞ “You didn’t even need to see the tag sewed into the jacket of his suit to know that it cost more than you made in a single weekend. Didn’t need to sit next to him on that leather couch to know that he probably smelled exactly how he looked: dark, rich, dangerous.”

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Warnings/Genre/Rating: Set in the Roaring 20s! Mobster!Hoseok. Singer!Reader. Flapper!Reader. Fluff. Strangers to lovers. Law breaking. Alcohol use. Oneshot. PG-13.

Word Count: 2.7k

Fic Theme Song: My Heart Belongs To Daddy -- Marilyn Monroe

A/n: I recommend listening to the song above to set the mood!~

| | Masterlist | |

All of my works are purely fiction. Everything I write is my intellectual property and therefore belongs to me.©out-of-jams. Do not copy or repost without permission.

The air was hot.

Humid.

Stifling.

A bead of sweat drifted down the back of your neck and goosebumps broke out on your flesh as it traveled below the top of your dress. It was one of your favorites: black and short with silver embedded jewels that glittered beneath the low ceiling lights. A tight fitting pearl necklace decorating the bare skin of your neck matched the earrings pierced through your lobes. And the heels on your feet made you taller, though not by as much as you’d like.

“You ready to go again?”

You glanced up from the glass of water clutched in your hands to meet the questioning stare of one of your dearest friends. Kim Taehyung nodded his head towards the stage that took up the whole back wall of the joint. Two women in similar styles of dresses to yours and short cut hair side-eyed him as they walked past. Giggled into their illegal cocktails and whispered behind their hands.

Perhaps if you hadn't known the man at your side before he was old enough to be weaned from his mother’s breast, then you would have sighed with them. Would have fluttered your lashes at the unnecessarily handsome man gifted with a sweet face and even sweeter disposition. You couldn’t fault them for double-taking at his warm chocolate eyes and hair long enough to cover his lightly tanned forehead.

Taehyung’s coral colored, cupid-bow lips tilted up as he tried and failed to hide how he preened beneath their longing stares. Rolling your eyes, you slid your glass of water back onto the high topped table and patted his suit clad arm. “Let’s go before you get snatched up again and I lose my saxophone player for the night.”

“That was only one time!” Taehyung’s amused voice followed you back to the stage and up the three short steps. Chatter from the packed speakeasy hidden beneath the restaurant upstairs filled your ears with familiarity.

The space wasn’t very big. Then again, it didn’t need to be. Not when it sold illegal drinks like newsboys sold papers. Molls and Dolls was one of the most popular joints in town and everyone who was anyone tried to get their names put down on the incredibly long list. The interior was ritzy, filled with expensive leather chairs, polished wooden tables, and imported Persian rugs.

At the side of the place, to the left of the stage, was the bar. Already packed with broads and fellas dressed in clothes so expensive that those who looked wouldn’t doubt that they came with enough dough to buy whatever they wanted. They belonged to the type of crowd that you didn’t.

You didn’t grow up rich, didn’t have all the possessions you owned bought with daddy’s money. Maybe that was why it was so easy to see past the fronts they wore like cheap, plastic masquerade masks. They wanted people to think that they held all the power, when in reality, they did not. Were just like everybody else when you took away their money and it came down to it.

Nodding at your piano player in a silent motion to urge him to put down the whiskey and pick up the tunes, you approached the microphone center stage. It was cool to the touch as you lightly wrapped your fingers around the stand. The ten minute break you’d taken was exactly what you’d needed to moisten your throat and prepare yourself to sing for the rest of the night.

When a familiar melody started up as your pianist danced his fingers across the keys, you felt your eyes slip closed in bliss. While the rest of the patrons were home to mansions and pricey cars, the stage was where you belonged. The eyes of those who came to watch you sing, to hypnotize them with the words that itched to spring free from your tongue, breathed life into you. And the rhythm of the instruments at your back guided the beating of your heart.

You hadn’t been singing at Molls and Dolls for very long. A year ago was when you’d been approached by the mac who owned the place. He’d caught you the moment you slid from the stage at one of the less infamous underground clubs in the city. Had praised your voice and offered you a slot to sing at his joint every Friday and Saturday night. The only catch was that you could work for him and him only.

The one thing that stopped you from turning him down (how could you live off of working two days a week?) was the hefty wad of cold, hard cash he’d slipped into your palm. A downpayment, he’d said, loose change compared to what you could make with him. Something to give you the incentive to accept.

How R.M.--he never gave out his actual name--really earned the money he got stayed a mystery to you. You knew that the safe in his office was filled to the brim with more bills than you could count; more dough than he could possibly make in an evening. But you never asked. Didn’t need to when he paid you enough to keep the questions from your mouth.

You came to sing, to sip at the drinks you were given and bask in the attention from those who envied you. Who wished they could hypnotize a room with only their voice.

Like now.

You could feel their gazes upon you while you sang and you soaked it up. Tried not to let a smirk capture your red tinted lips when you felt heat boring a hole into the side of your face. Instead, you slid your kohl lined eyes open as the band playing behind you transitioned to fast paced, sexier song.

“If I invite a boy some night To dine on my fine food and haddie.”

Across the room, a pair of dark eyes watched you. They were familiar, and yet not. Belonged to an absolute billboard of a man who looked like he fit more on the cover of magazines sold on street corners, than in the basement of a speakeasy. Hair the color of the scotch he sipped on and skin the same hue as molten honey, he met your gaze beneath heavy brows. His high cheekbones, a strong nose, and jawline sharp enough to cut diamonds were enough to catch many a lingering look.

“I just adore, his asking for more But my heart belongs to Daddy.”

You didn’t even need to see the tag sewed into the jacket of his suit to know that it cost more than you made in a single weekend. Didn’t need to sit next to him on that leather couch to know that he probably smelled exactly how he looked: dark, rich, dangerous. Every single weekend, he claimed the same spot across the room with a handful of other, equally handsome men.

You weren’t sure what they did or why they were there. Why everyone skirted around them like particularly frightened railway mice. R.M. would join them occasionally with friendly handshakes and pats on the back. So it wasn’t very difficult to put the pieces together that wherever he got all of his money from had something to do with those fellas.

Words had never been exchanged between you and the man who watched you perform like you were the only two people in the room. Neither of you had crossed that invisible line that drew itself down the middle of space that divided you. It was an unspoken rule in the game the two of you played. You’d sing as if just for him, and he’d gift you with his attention.

“Yes, my heart belongs to Daddy So I simply couldn't be bad Yes, my heart belongs to Daddy.”

Already hooded eyes seemed to darken even further at the suggestive words that spilled from your tongue. And if you looked close enough--which you always seemed to do when it came to him--the slight quirk of his heart-shaped mouth was a sign of his approval.

“So I want to warn you laddie Though I know that you're perfectly swell That my heart belongs to Daddy Cause my Daddy, he treats it so well.”

Not even the crowd gathered around the front of your stage like meerkats, with their eyes trained on you with rapt observation could pull your own from him. One of the men sitting next to him, a petite looking blond with a soft, pretty face, leaned over to say something into his ear. Not even then did he turn away from you. Just answered his companion without breaking the rules of the game.

“If I invite a boy some night To cook up some hot enchilada Though Spanish rice is all very nice My heart belongs to Daddy.”

The hair at the back of your neck stuck to your skin from the heat that perforated the room due to too many bodies and too little air circulation. But you didn’t pay it any mind, too busy trying to stave off the feeling of disappointment when a man you didn’t recognize approached the men. Cut off your line of sight to the man sitting on the couch. Whatever was said was enough to cause him to rise, press his almost finished drink into the hand of one of his companions and follow the stranger out of the room.

Though the look he sent you before disappearing was a message in and of itself. A silent apology for ending the game before time was up.

The rest of your set up on stage didn’t affect you like it usual did. Failed to provide you with the normal high that accompanied a performance. You tried not to let displeasure show on your face when you departed the stage. The night hadn’t ended, nor would it until the first signs of light began to show as the sun rose over the city skyscrapers. But you were exhausted.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t leave even if you’d wanted to because R.M. had yet to pay you for the weekend. If it were Friday, then you would have just shrugged it off and let it go until the next day. But it was Saturday and you didn’t want to have to come back during one of your off days. Molls and Dolls was too far away from your apartment to hike across the city when you didn’t need to.

R.M. was nowhere to be seen, had disappeared a little while ago according to the bartender who poured you a glass of gin. So sadly, you were left waiting for the man when you weren’t even sure if he would return for the night. Sometimes he would vanish and reappear the next day like nothing had happened. Though you supposed that since he owned the place and all, it was more than acceptable for him to do so.

You just wished that he didn’t do it when you needed to get paid.

Sighing, you pressed the martini glass to your lips and took a hefty sip. The alcohol burned your throat as it slid down, but you didn’t mind it. Not when it lit fire to the blaze itching beneath your skin. Taehyung had disappeared somewhere into the flock of tittering women the moment he’d packed up his saxophone and stepped off the stage.

Left to your own devices, you rested your cheek in the palm of your free hand and surveyed the room. It was still packed wall-to-wall, filled with the sound of chatter and the jazz band who took your place performing. They were talented, good even, but you didn’t expect anything less from someone hired to work for R.M.

“Could I get you another drink, miss?”

Blinking at the sudden intrusion of a voice invading your personal space, you turned to meet the shameless stare of a stranger. He had a face that was all angles and sharp lines with eyes the color of the sky at midday. By the way he carried himself, leaned against the bar like he owned it, you could already tell what kind of man he was. One who thought he could have anything he wanted with the snap of fingers because of the weight of his wallet. Who thought he was the absolute bees-knees.

Raising an eyebrow at the way his gaze lingered on the bare skin of your legs exposed by your dress, you took another sip out of your glass. “I’m still drinking this one.”

“After, then,” he winked. “What d’ya say?”

You hummed before looking pointedly away from him in hopes that he’d get the message without you needing to spell it out. “No.”

“No?” Apparently not. The only thing he got was closer to you as he slid across the bar until his arm brushed your side. “Come on, doll. Don’t be a prude.”

Turning back to shoot him a heated glare, you leaned away from his touch. “Are you deaf?”

He didn’t seem at all affronted by your scoff when he reached up to brush your cheek with his pointer finger. “Can’t say that I am. Now accept my offer before I take it back.”

“Take it back, then.” You jerked your head back until he had no choice but to drop his hand.

“You--”

“I believe that the lady said no.” A voice, deep and raspy and accented with a vocal fry, spoke from over your shoulder. Warmth from a hand pressed to your waist accompanied it, and you found yourself looking back in surprise.

The first thought that came to your mind was that he was a lot taller than he looked from across the room. To the point where you had to crane your head up to take him all in; the sliver of his neck exposed by his expensive suit, a mole beneath his right eye, two dimples that indented either side of his mouth as he pursed his lips in displeasure.

He cocked his head to the side, voice pitched dangerously low. “Don’t make her say it again.”

One glance at the fella who’d forced his presence on you had you raising a brow at how quickly the blood drained from his face. His blue eyes were blown wide, mouth opening and closing like he’d forgotten how to make a sound. He let out a squeak that sounded so incredibly unmanly that you were embarrassed for him, before making himself scarce. Perhaps his reaction should have given you second thoughts about the man who’d come to your rescue, but it didn’t.

It only made you all the more curious.

“I could’ve handled that, you know.”

He looked down at you, took in your playful smile and flashed you one of his own. “I didn’t like his hands on you.”

“But yours is fine?” You questioned, referencing his own hand still on your waist.

He hummed, a deep rumbling sound, and smirked. “You tell me, dollface.”

“I think,” you tilted your head towards the bar, “that you should give me your name and buy me another drink.”

You could feel it then, like the room had shifted.

He barely even had to glance at the bartender for him to make his way over. “You can call me Hoseok.”

Hoseok brushed a stray hair from your face and tucked it behind your ear. It took all you had not to let the way your heart raced from the simple gesture. “And you?”

Your name fell from your mouth and something flashed in his eyes as he tasted it on his lips. Gestured for you to tell the bartender what you wanted.

The rules of the game had changed.

#bangtanarmynet #btsbookclub #ficswithluv #magicshopnet #networkbangtan #hoseok #hoseok fic #bts #bts fic

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emofairyprincessofarkansas · 3 years

Text

Never Getting Rid of Me

TITLE: Never Getting Rid of Me PAIRING: Javier/Anabelle (OC) RATING: T CHAPTER: One-shot SUMMARY: Anabelle and Javier go on a ride and they both get a surprise.

[A/N - Written for @autumnleaves1991-blog’s “Writer Wednesday”. Anabelle and Javier are a recurring pairing on my sideblog @multifandomfanfiction. I listened to "Here I Am" by Bryan Adams (from Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron), but the title fits in with the theme of Javier and Anabelle's one-shots.]

Anabelle looked out across the landscape. The red clay was stunning.

Of course, the view next to her was stunning too.

Javier was in a navy-blue button down and black cowboy hat, sitting atop a black stallion.

Anabelle still couldn’t believe this was her life. She had to pinch herself every morning waking up next to him. She’d spent so long without Javier, she was convinced that all this was a dream and one day she would wake up to find she was still in Colombia.

Shortly after giving birth to their daughter Elizabeth, Anabelle resigned from the DEA and went to Laredo to live with Javier’s father Chucho. As much as Anabelle hated to give up her career, Chucho needed help around the house and it would give Elizabeth some time with her grandfather.

The month and a half Javier spent in Laredo after the Los Pepes incident had been total bliss for the new parents.

Javier helped Anabelle with midnight feedings and put their daughter to bed each night. Javier was a natural father, despite having no prior experience with children (unless you counted little Olivia Murphy).

However, the DEA called Javier back to Colombia to lead the investigation of the Cali Cartel. It had nearly broken Javier’s heart to leave them both, but Anabelle had promised to wait for Javier. However long that took. He was the father of her child and she loved him.

In the end, Javier resigned from the DEA after causing yet another scandal and vowed to never look back. He was done with hunting drug dealers, even when they offered him a job in Mexico. He just wanted to go back to Laredo. Back to Anabelle and his daughter.

Every day it seemed like he fell more in love with Anabelle. The way she soothed him when his feelings of self-loathing got out of control. The way she lovingly took care of Chucho, making sure he took his medication and ate healthy. The way motherhood seemed to suit her better than a government office job.

Javier could only thank whatever god had blessed him with a woman like her.

“What are you smiling at?” Anabelle asked him.

“Just about how lucky I am.”

Anabelle rolled her eyes. “Ever since you left Colombia, you’ve become such a sap, Javier Peña.”

Javier gave her a wink. “Well if you tell anyone, I’ll have to kill you.”

Anabelle turned her horse around and came up beside Javier. “You wouldn’t kill me, because you love me too much.”

“Yes I do, cariño.” Javier reached over and gently grabbed her neck, pulling her into a kiss.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Javier and Anabelle walked through the door of the house and Javier immediately went to go change, his shirt soaked in sweat from the Texas heat.

“Did you tell him?” Chucho asked Anabelle.

Anabelle picked Elizabeth up and set her hip. “No. There wasn’t a good time and what exactly am I supposed to tell him? Hey Javier, I know you’re still getting used to be a dad and living together, but guess what? I’m pregnant again!”

“You’re pregnant?” Anabelle turned and saw Javier standing in the doorway, his lavender shirt half-buttoned.

Anabelle sighed. “I’m never going to get this right, am I?”

Javier finished buttoning his shirt and walked over to her.

“I’m pregnant again, Javi.”

Javier cupped her face in his hands. “I told you once and I’ll tell you again. I’m not running from this. I love you, Anabelle Woodward or should I say Anabelle Peña?”

Anabelle cocked her head to the side, confused.

Javier got down on one knee. “I meant to ask you on our ride, but there was never a good time. Anabelle, love of my life, mother of my children, will you do me the honor of being my wife?”

This was supposed to be so much more romantic. He had planned on asking her with the sun shining down on her and the wind in her hair, but when had they ever done things the right way? Standing in his father’s living room with their daughter on her hip and a new Peña growing in her stomach, Javier had never seen a more beautiful sight.

Anabelle stood there frozen.

“Ana? Say something, please. My knees are starting to hurt.”

Anabelle burst into giggles. “Stand up, Javi.”

Javier stumbled to his feet and Anabelle set Elizabeth down. With her hands free, she brought Javier down into a kiss. “Yes.”

Javier smiled. “Yes?”

“Yes!”

“I hope you know you’re never getting rid of me now.”

Anabelle smiled. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

#writer wednesday #javier/oc #javier pena #javier pena imagines #narcos imagines #narcos #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine

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multifandomfanfiction · 3 years

Text

Never Getting Rid of Me

TITLE: Never Getting Rid of Me PAIRING: Javier/Anabelle (OC) RATING: T CHAPTER: One-shot SUMMARY: Anabelle and Javier go on a ride and they both get a surprise.

[A/N - Originally posted on my main blog @emofairyprincessofarkansas. I listened to “Here I Am” by Bryan Adams (from Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron), but the title fits in with the theme of Javier and Anabelle’s one-shots.]

Anabelle looked out across the landscape. The red clay was stunning.

Of course, the view next to her was stunning too.

Javier was in a navy-blue button down and black cowboy hat, sitting atop a black stallion.

The month and a half Javier spent in Laredo after the Los Pepes incident had been total bliss for the new parents.

Javier could only thank whatever god had blessed him with a woman like her.

“What are you smiling at?” Anabelle asked him.

“Just about how lucky I am.”

Anabelle rolled her eyes. “Ever since you left Colombia, you’ve become such a sap, Javier Peña.”

Javier gave her a wink. “Well if you tell anyone, I’ll have to kill you.”

Anabelle turned her horse around and came up beside Javier. “You wouldn’t kill me, because you love me too much.”

“Yes I do, cariño.” Javier reached over and gently grabbed her neck, pulling her into a kiss.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Javier and Anabelle walked through the door of the house and Javier immediately went to go change, his shirt soaked in sweat from the Texas heat.

“Did you tell him?” Chucho asked Anabelle.

“You’re pregnant?” Anabelle turned and saw Javier standing in the doorway, his lavender shirt half-buttoned.

Anabelle sighed. “I’m never going to get this right, am I?”

Javier finished buttoning his shirt and walked over to her.

“I’m pregnant again, Javi.”

Javier cupped her face in his hands. “I told you once and I’ll tell you again. I’m not running from this. I love you, Anabelle Woodward or should I say Anabelle Peña?”

Anabelle cocked her head to the side, confused.

Javier got down on one knee. “I meant to ask you on our ride, but there was never a good time. Anabelle, love of my life, mother of my children, will you do me the honor of being my wife?”

Anabelle stood there frozen.

“Ana? Say something, please. My knees are starting to hurt.”

Anabelle burst into giggles. “Stand up, Javi.”

Javier stumbled to his feet and Anabelle set Elizabeth down. With her hands free, she brought Javier down into a kiss. “Yes.”

Javier smiled. “Yes?”

“Yes!”

“I hope you know you’re never getting rid of me now.”

Anabelle smiled. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Taglist: @pedrostories @day-off-inkyoto @wildemaven @agoldin @kesskirata @marvelsmylife @hearttbreak

#javier pena #javier/oc #javier/annabelle #javier pena imagines #narcos #narcos imagines #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine

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