#metal was a big part of my teenage me

[ladydarkey]

Just found the Band

'Bloodywood'

It is Metal mixed with indian folk or as they call it 'punjabi metal'

Told my partner and he was like 'i thought you know them'.. duuuuuh

#new music #listening to a lot of different genres #metal was a big part of my teenage me #metal and Indian folk

[strang3lov3]

VS

Summary: Yours and Joel’s newest patrol task is exploring the old mall not far from Jackson. You learn what Victoria’s Secret really is. (She was NOT having an affair with former president of the United States Colonel Sanders) AKA grumpy cranky joel and you get down and dirty in an old Victoria’s Secret.

This is part 1 of my new series “Mall Rats”

Warnings: smut, fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, doin it in front of a mirror (thanks gracie!), reverse cowgirl, joel is a dick, joel is condescending, reader is charming just like me, Joel does all the work because reader is a lady and Joel is an asshole.

W/C: 4.7k

“Weird looking stairs,” you mumble as you take in the unique environment. Beneath your feet are metallic steps with deep lined grooves, in front of you is Joel, stepping down the staircase. In the enclosed building, the walls are lined with different shops, there’s a few different seating areas. Old posters, advertisements. Colorfully painted walls are overgrown with roots and vines. 

“S’cause they’re not regular stairs,” Joel says with a gruff voice. “S’called an escalator. Didn’t have to walk up and down the steps, you could stay stationary and it’d move ya up an’ down.”

“Sounds cool.”

“No,” Joel mutters. “Not cool.”

None of this is cool to Joel. In fact, it’s the opposite. 

Tommy and his crew had stumbled across this mall while on patrol. Of course they couldn’t be one hundred percent sure, but they deemed it largely safe of infected. He wasn’t sure how picked over it was, but he figured it would be a good task for you and your curious mind. Comb it through for supplies, clothing, entertainment. Take notes and report back to him. 

So what was Joel there for?

To chaperone you, of course. Keep you out of trouble, keep you safe, answer your million and one questions. 

It was Tommy’s sick and twisted idea of a joke. Joel’s new patrol project involved two of the things he disdained the most: Malls, and you.

 Comedy gold.

“No,” you mock his tone with a silly face, “Not cool.”

Joel rolls his eyes and ignores you. When you reach the bottom of the steps, he looks at his surroundings as he reaches in his bag for his flashlight. Turning it on he says, “We’ll start down here and work our way up. Scope everything out, get familiar. Then you can start combing through the stores for supplies and what have you. You stick by me. No wanderin’.”

“Don’t you mean we?” you ask. “We comb through the stores.”

“No, sweetheart, I don’t. S’your job, not mine. I’m just here to keep ya from gettin’ killed.”

Whatever. Joel can bitch and moan about this all he wants, but you’re grateful for the opportunity to explore the infinite wonders of the mall. It’s not like you’ve got much else to do. You’re indoors, safe from the elements and infected. You’re not complaining. 

You reach into your own bag and pull out your flashlight. You turn it on, and the light flickers dimly. You smack it with your palm a couple times before the light finally goes out, then turn to Joel with a sweet smile on your face. “You wouldn’t happen to have a couple extra–”

“You’re lucky I do,” Joel glares at you as he digs through his belongings to find a couple of double A batteries in his pack. You hold out your hand and he begrudgingly drops the batteries in your palm. “Quit fuckin’ around. Be prepared next time.” He’s certainly jolly today. 

You replace the batteries and turn your flashlight on, and begin to make your way through the bottom level of the mall. Joel’s said nothing since giving you the batteries. 

“So what did you do here? Or, not here specifically. Just like, malls in general,” you ask as you make your way through tables and chairs. A big sign on a nearby wall informs you that this area is called the food court. 

“I did nothing. Malls were always packed with people, way too busy. Too many teenagers. Expensive too,” Joel scrunches his nose as he catches a whiff of something foul at an old hot dog stand. “But other people, they’d come here and shop for clothes, get somethin’ to eat. Could catch a movie f’ya wanted.”

“So where’d you get your clothes from?”

Joel shrugs. “Dunno. Just kinda always had them in my dresser, I guess.”

Sounds like Joel. 

There’s a Panda Express, something called Auntie Anne’s that you and Joel are looking through together. He’s eyeing the cooking equipment and you’re baffled as you stare at a five gallon drum of nacho cheese on the floor.

“That cheese is probably still good,” Joel comments. 

“You’re joking.”

“It ain’t the real cheese like we got back in Jackson. Auntie Anne’s was a pretzel shop, lotta people would dip ‘em in that cheese.”

Auntie Anne’s doesn’t have much to offer, so you and Joel move right along. Next stop is Kentucky Fried Chicken. You point to the man on the logo. “Who’s that?”

“Colonel Sanders. He was the president way back when.”

You know better. “No, he wasn’t.”

“Sure he was,” Joel says. “You weren’t there. You don’t know.”

He’s such a dick. You roll your eyes and leave him and Colonel Sanders to their own devices as you walk through the rest of the food court. 

Joel doesn’t realize you’d left. He tells you another Kentucky Fried Fun Fact and when he’s met with no answer, he looks up to find you at Cinnabon at the end of the food court. 

He makes his way to you then kicks you with his boot. “Didn’t I tell you to stay next to me?”

You ignore his question and ask him your own. “What’s Cinnabon?”

“M’serious,” he says. “No more wanderin’.”

“Yeah, yeah. No wanderin’.” you mock his Southern accent once more. But more importantly, you demand answers. “Tell me about Cinnabon.” 

“They’re just cinnamon rolls. Cinnamon. Bun. S’in the name, genius.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t like those much either, then.”

“Actually, they were pretty good. Big and gooey, covered in icing. You were supposed to split ‘em with someone but I never did.”

“Ah, right. You and your sweet tooth,” You smile. 

“I don’t have a sweet tooth,” Joel lies. “Keep movin’.”

So you do. There’s a lemonade stand here and there, but mostly shops now. A bookstore, jewelry stores. Something called “Wet Seal”. You ask Joel what it is, to which he replies “Fuck if I know.”

A shoe store has piqued Joel’s interest. He’s looking for a new pair of boots as you stare out the window of the shop, wondering who the hell Victoria is and what secret she’s hiding. Joel taps you on the arm to tell you to follow him as he leaves the shoe store.

“What’s Victoria’s Secret?”

“Oh,” Joel says. “Nothin’. We don’t need to go there.”

Oof. Bad move, Joel. Now you have to find out what the deal is with Victoria’s Secret. You take off for the store, ignoring Joel’s orders to stick by his side. “Did she have a secret affair with President Colonel Sanders?”

“No, god dammit. Get back here. We ain’t goin’.”

“Why not?”

“I just don’t wanna.”

But you do. So you ignore his bitching and approach the store, stopping when you realize exactly what kind of store it is. “Oh.”

Joel catches up to you. “Mhm,” he mumbles. “S’just underwear. Now c’mon, I’m tired of chasin’ ya.”

“No way,” you argue. “I need new underwear. I’m actually going commando right now, so this is perfect.”

 Joel makes a face like he’s in pain and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Jesus Christ. Boundaries.”

You don’t believe in TMI. 

You enter the store, entranced by the women in the photos and the black sparkly floor. There’s a big table with panties laid on top, drawers underneath that indicate sizing. You open the drawers with your size and begin sifting through the underwear. All different styles, patterns, colors. Way cuter than the few you have back in Jackson. 

You pick out a few different pairs. Brown with pink polka dots, pink with red roses. Some bikini styles, some boyshorts. You hold up a white pair with lace and a little blue flower sewn on the center of the waistband. “Joel, look! Aren’t these cute?”

“Just adorable,” he mumbles without bothering to actually look. If his voice were any more full of sarcasm he’d choke. Joel keeps his eyes firm on the ground, like he’s being intimidated by the mannequins and their threatening panties. You giggle and he shoots you a warning look. 

You look for a few more pairs, then find a few pairs that look a little different. You hold one up, trying to figure out which side you put your legs through. When you look at the nearly bare-assed woman in the advertisement that reads 5 for $20 above you, you realize how it’s meant to be worn. Oh, you think. Neato. You stuff a few of the thongs in your bag. Could be fun. 

Joel’s still behind you, eyes still focused on the floor, off in his own, prudish little world. You wonder what he’s thinking. There’s a fire engine red thong in the drawer, with sparkles and lace. You know, the works. And you know it’ll be just perfect for a special someone. “Hey, Joel. Found some for you.”

“Not interested.”

You loop the thong over your index finger and pull back with your other hand, then shoot it at Joel like it’s a hair tie. It hits him square on his nose and he catches it in his hand, then throws it on the ground as he pouts. “Alright, enough. You’re done. We’re leavin’.”

You shake your head. “Tommy said I’m in charge.”

Joel groans. “Oh, for the love of god. In charge, my ass.”

You know better than to keep arguing. So you just walk towards the bras, ignoring Joel’s voice in the background telling you to get back here. He hates it when you walk away from him when he’s speaking, so he always follows you so that you hear every last word. It works out, though. You get to do what you want, and Joel gets to give you his stern talking-to. How’s that for a compromise?

The bras are set up similarly to the panties, with different drawers for different sizes. Joel’s still going off about how you never follow orders, how you probably don’t even need any of this, you’re just doing it to get under his skin. And it’s working. Something about how when we get back to Jackson, I’m telling Tommy to take me off of patrol with y–

You interrupt. “The fuck?”

“What?”

“What does any of this mean? 30A, 30B, 32A, 34C, 34DD?” You hold up different bras and show him the tags. 

“Those are sizes, sweetheart.” 

“Yeah, I gathered that, thanks. But what’s my size?”

“Why’re ya askin’ me? Just grab one so we can go. Christ almighty.” 

Men. No help at all. 

Surely a store that specializes in bras must have some sort of sizing chart or something. There’s end caps with different beauty products, you stuff a strawberry flavored lipgloss in your pocket as you search. The register might have something, you guess. And lucky you, you’re right. Under the counter are a few measuring tapes and charts. 

Predictable Joel follows you, of course. He says nothing as you read through the instructions. First wrap around your back, under your armpits and just above your bust. That’s your band size. Then do the same with your bust, and subtract the band size from the bust. There’s your A, B, C, D and so on.

You take off your hoodie and stand in just a tank top, no bra. When you said commando, you meant it. Joel watches you as you wrap the measuring tape around yourself. 

“Sweetheart,” Joel interrupts, and he sounds exhausted. “What are you doin’.”

“Making you a Cinnabon, what’s it look like?” you mumble with your chin smushed into your neck as you try to read the numbers on the tape. 

And Joel thought Ellie was annoying. 

You’ve got the measuring tape twisted and tangled behind you, and you don’t even realize it. The inner contractor in Joel can’t bear to watch any more of this fuckery. “Give me that,” he spits, yanking the measuring tape away from your body. “You’re useless.”

Joel looks over the directions for a moment before tapping your arms. You lift up, he wraps the measuring tape properly around your body. There’s a nearby pen and he scribbles the number down, then lowers the measuring tape, his thumbs skating over the clothed flesh of your breasts. Your nipples harden as his fingers brush them accidentally. 

And you thought the thong you shot at Joel was red. It doesn’t even begin to compare to the shade of crimson Joel’s face turns as he realizes what he’s done. Quickly, he drops the measuring tape and writes down the second number and your bra size. “Ther-” his voice cracks and he clears his throat. “There. Go find your bra. Then we’re leavin’, and I’m not arguin’ this time.”

You smirk at his vocal mishap. “Okay. But I have to try them on first.”

“You never make things easy for me, do you?”

Joel follows you as you look for a few different bras in your size. You pick out a few that match your panties, and a few others. There’s a silky black bra with so much memory foam padding that it rivals your pillow at home. Again, perfect for your special someone. 

Joel’s smelling different perfumes when you sidle up to him and lay the bra on his head, the large cups sitting on either side of his scalp. “Mickey Mouse,” you tell him.

Joel glares at you as he removes the bra and drops it on the floor. “You are giving me a fuckin’ aneurysm.” 

You look pleased with yourself, which only makes him more pissed off. But the table next to Joel catches your eye. There’s a pretty satin babydoll dress, with a matching pair of panties. It’s a nice light pink color, with pretty floral lace. “Hmm.” you mumble, thinking to yourself.

Joel watches your eyes leave his face as you become distracted. “What?” he turns his attention toward where your vision is focused. “Oh. Nope. You don’t need that.”

 “Why not?”

“You said you needed underwear. S’lingerie. All them frills and lace…” Joel trails off.

“I think it’d be nice for a date night.”

Joel’s jaw clenches slightly. “I do not envy the poor bastard who takes you home,” he says. He’s probably just annoyed, at his wit’s end with you. Probably not jealous. Definitely not jealous. “But guys don’t give a shit what you’re wearin’, honey. Just wanna get what’s underneath. S’a waste of time.”

You shrug and grab your size in the lingerie anyway. Then you take off towards the dressing rooms to try everything on. You enter the first room on the right, and Joel sits at a bench directly across, just a few feet away from you. 

You try on a couple of bras and feel pleased when they fit and support you. They make the girls sit pretty, too.

You take off the bra and eye the pretty babydoll and its matching bottom. So you try it on, and it’s gorgeous. It frames you nicely, sits right above your ass to show off the panties. You admire yourself in the mirror for a while before deciding you’ll save it for a date night. Fuck what Joel says. Maybe he doesn’t like lingerie, but that doesn’t mean you can’t. 

Things are going smoothly until you try to unhook the babydoll in the back. It’s stuck or something. You fidget with it for a second, accidentally smacking your elbow against one of the dressing room walls in the process. 

“Y’alright in there?” Joel calls out to you.

“Fine, just uh…” You step out of the dressing room. “Need your help with the hook in the back. It’s stuck.”

Joel looks like a deer in the headlights when you stand before him, clad in your pink satin babydoll and matching panties. You leave the changing room door open, Joel stares at your ass on the mirror attached to it. He’s all flustered, eyes wide and mouth agape. “Lord have mercy.”

“Yeah, I know. You’re not a lingerie guy.”

Joel swallows thickly. “I don’t know about that, exactly.”

“No?” You raise an eyebrow. Joel, suddenly a man of few words. How much nicer he is when he’s quiet, you think. “How about you unhook it so I can change?”

“Yeah I could uh…do that.” Joel stands up, then carefully holds the straps of your dress between his fingers. His featherlight touch leaves goosebumps on your shoulders. “Shouldn’t be wearin’ this. It’s very impractical.” 

“I know, Joel. You mentioned that.”

His hands trail lower down the straps, his fingers resting against your skin. “Uh huh. Cheap material…could get torn very easily f’ya aren’t careful.”

And then his fingers are moving up the straps again. He places two hands on your hips and turns you around, fingers skating across your ass cheeks. You feel his body step closer to yours, his hot breath on your neck as he whispers, “M’sure it's not stitched too good. Probably not easy to clean, either.” He catches you off guard when you look at yourself in the mirror. He’s staring intently at the reflection of your body, then his eyes flicker to yours.

“Right,” you agree. 

Joel’s scanning your body again, observing how the fabric falls around your curves just so. He looks hungry, like the moment you peel your eyes from him he’ll devour you.

“Are you gonna take it off of me?” He ignores your question as he pinches the bottom of your babydoll between his fingers, the soft satin tickling your skin as he moves the fabric. “Joel?”

“Yeah, hon. I’m gettin’ there. Be patient f’me, now.” Your stomach flutters at the low timbre of his voice, the way he purrs in your ear. Joel absolutely does not like lingerie. Not one bit, god dammit.

His eyes are darkened with lust as he sucks in a breath, admiring the way your breasts sit beneath the clothing, the way it drapes over your stomach and rests on your hips. One of the straps falls off your shoulder and he clicks his tongue. “See? S’no good.”

“Guess so,” you agree, and he places the strap back on your shoulder, his fingers lingering for a moment too long as he contemplates his next move.

“Closer,” he pulls your hand towards himself, and you step backward. He lets his hands slide down your body over the lingerie and you watch him frown in the mirror, his hands stopping when he reaches the bottom of your dress. “N’it covers up all these pretty curves…” Joel lifts up the fabric, inspecting the craftsmanship of your panties. He takes note of the way they’re darkened beneath your core, sticky with your arousal. “These panties…thin, huh?” He traces a finger delicately over the strap on your hip, pulling it back and snapping on your skin. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. “Joel,” you breathe shakily, “You’re teasing me.”

“M’sorry, darlin’. Just tryna show ya somethin’.” You watch as he trails a finger over your mound, dragging it across the damp cloth and finding your clit over the fabric. He rubs steady circles as he whispers, “See, now look at that. You’re stainin’ em. Makin’ a big fuckin’ mess of yourself.”

You bite back a moan. “Joel, what are you doing?”

“What’s it look like, I’m makin’ a Cinnabon.” Joel mocks you from earlier, but you don’t catch his snide teasing. You’re foggy headed and lost in this moment. “I just said I’m tryna show ya somethin’. Now hush while I’m speakin’.” He pushes your panties to the side, smirking when he feels how soaked your soft folds are as he drags his fingers up and down your slit. Your knees weaken and wobble, and Joel wraps an arm around your waist to guide you back some more. He sits on the bench with you on his lap, tapping a foot in between yours. You spread your legs and your stomach flutters feeling his hardness press against you. You watch him through the mirror as he speaks quietly into your ear, his breath tickling you as two of his thick fingers breach your entrance and push inside. “You said this lil’ number would be nice for a date, right?”

You nod while whimpering, turning your face into his neck. With his other strong hand, he holds your jaw and turns your attention back to the mirror in front of you. “S’matter? Don’t be gettin’ all bashful on me now,” he murmurs.  He’s curling his fingers, swirling them inside you and memorizing every inch of your walls. “Watch how I touch ya.”

You watch his fingers twitch and dance under your pretty pink panties. You peel your eyes away to look at his face, and he’s focused on his hand between your thighs. 

“S’pose it could be nice for a date,” Joel breathes. “You’d wear this, what, under a pretty dress or somethin’?”

You nod again.

“And then when that pretty dress comes off that evenin’, then what happens?”

“I-I dunno, Joel.”

“I know you don’t, sweetheart. I’ll tell you what happens. Your gentleman's gonna take one look at this little getup and rip it right off. Leave it in shreds on the floor and break your poor heart.”

You’re waiting for Joel to do just that. But he doesn’t, he just keeps fingering you under your panties. Two fingers deep inside you, thumb painting circles into your clit. There’s a heat building in your stomach, tickling you from the inside. Joel takes a moment to lift you up, undo his jeans and pull himself out before he begins to rock against you. His head nudges between your cheeks, warm and smooth and hard. How you wish you could see it, hold it in your hand, feel him with your tongue. You squirm against him and find his free arm, hugging it tight to steady yourself on him. Joel chuckles in a low tone.

“But I know you feel pretty,” Joel continues, “M’gonna work around it for ya, baby, but only if you’re good t’me. You know what that means?”

You’re irritated as you shake your head no. Joel’s using his fingers to taunt you, tease you. He knows just how he’s working you up, giving you just enough to keep you squirming but not enough to send you over the edge.

“It means–” Joel pulls his fingers away from your core and you groan. “Shush. Quit your whinin’.” He pushes you up by your hips so he can pull his pants down a little further, then sits you on his lap again, this time with his cock sitting between your folds and your panties pulled as far to the side as he could get them. With his hands still on your hips, he guides you up and down, up and down, coating himself in your arousal. You can just barely make out the shape as his tip rubs against your clit. He continues, “Means no more wanderin’,” he pulls the top of the babydoll down and watches your tits fall out, his both hands leaving your hips and sliding up to play with your breasts. “Y’come prepared for patrol,” he notches his stiff cock at your dripping entrance, “And I’m in charge. Not you. We clear?”

You nod. You’re not sure how he did it, but with Joel’s teasing, he’s seemingly melted away every bit of attitude in you.

“Good girl. Now don’t say I don’t do nothin’ for ya.”

With that, he thrusts up into you, parting your insides. You watch his cock disappear inside of you before throwing your head back on his shoulder with a moan. Joel smirks before using a firm yet gentle hand to guide your head back where he wants it. “Watch,” he coos, reminding you. “You’re pretty like this.”

Joel uses his hands on your hips to bounce you on his cock, then lets them glide up your body. He palms your breasts, squeezing and watching your flesh move and bulge under his fingers. He gropes you a couple of times while pinching and twisting your nipples, enjoying the way your moans change pitch with the action. 

While Joel plays with your nipples, you ride him. Your thighs ache and tremble, knees shaking. You bounce yourself on him a little longer before letting yourself go limp. 

Joel takes the hint, drops his hands to your hips and picks up where you left off. You lean back and let him do his thing. “Gonna make me do all the work for ya, huh?”

You say nothing, just let those sweet sounds fall from your lips as he fucks you. You reach between your thighs and touch what you can of him, unsatisfied with the way you didn’t get to before. Joel makes a noise, seemingly enjoying it.

He kneads your ass as he uses his strong arms to move you up and down, snapping his hips against yours. “Fuck,” he hisses. He lets out breathy sounds, grunts and growls tickling your ear and making the hair on your neck stand straight up. He’s sweating, soaking through his shirt and making your back feel damp. You’ll take what you can get of Joel right now, but you’re wishing you could see him better. Feel him more, his skin, watch his muscles twitch under you. Or above you. You don’t have a preference at the moment.

“Joel,” you moan. “Oh, Joel.”

He smirks, pleased with the noises you make. Pleased with your lack of words, your lack of attitude. How docile for him you are. He would have fucked you long ago if he knew you’d be like this. So well behaved. 

He turns his face into your neck and bites down. Hard. He soothes the marks over with his tongue, whispering nothings into your skin. You find your clit with your hand and begin circling it while Joel fucks into you. You think you have the right. Joel, however, disagrees.

“Hey,” he smacks your hand away. “What’d we talk about? Who’s in charge?” You move your hand between your thighs again, and Joel circles your wrist with his fingers and holds it away from you. “I asked you a question.”

“You are, Joel,” you breathe. 

“S’right. Means I take care of ya,” In the mirror, you watch Joel let go of your wrist and find your clit himself. “Thought you’d know better. Just sit pretty. S’all ya gotta do.”

“Joel,” you whisper, “Let me come,” 

“What’s the magic word, hon?”

“Please,” you beg. “Please. Make me come for you, I want–I wanna come on your cock, please. Please, Joel.”

“Wrong,”

You huff, exasperated and frustrated. 

 “It’s Cinnabon.”

Joel shifts himself on the bench, finding the perfect angle. He continues fucking you, effortlessly finding that sweet spot inside you. He pulls back the hood of your clit, fingers painting the sensitive nub as he begins his work. Your thighs tremble and shake, he keeps you pressed tight to his chest. 

He’s magic. You’re moaning with abandon, eyes darting between the picture between your thighs and his face, and he’s playing with you like he owns you. 

“Right there,” you tell him. “Right there, Joel.”

Soon enough, your moans become breathier and broken, spread out between a medley of curse words and Joel’s name. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Look at you, comin’ so nice on my cock.”

You squeeze Joel’s working arm as you come, nails digging into his hot skin, feeling his tendons and muscles twitch under your fingertips. Your walls pulse and contract with your orgasm, the pleasure built up deep inside you spilling over and coursing through your veins. 

You’re limp against Joel, letting him use you as he chases his own release. He sits you straight up, bounces you harshly for a moment before breathing through his gritted teeth. You pull your attention from the mirror in front of you and focus your vision on your lap, watching as he comes inside you. Watching yourself soak his cock. He keeps you moving, his spend spilling out of you and over your pink panties. 

Joel pulls your body off of him and sits you back down. His spend continues dripping out of you, spilling onto the bench. He gets your clothes out of the dressing room and places them next to you, then stands you up and unclips your babydoll dress in the back. You forgot about that. But he did say he was getting to it, after all. 

He pulls the garment off of you, then helps you out of your stained panties. He helps you into a new pair of panties, the white pair with the little blue flower on the waistband. “So you’re not goin’ commando anymore,” he says. Then he dresses you in one of your new bras, your shirt and your pants. The lingerie lays crumpled on the floor. 

“So you still don’t like lingerie?” you ask.

Joel shrugs. “Keep it. I don’t care,” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “You tried your shit on, we’re leavin’.”

That’s fine by you. Next stop is Bath and Body Works. You spotted it earlier, and you actually know what that store is. You’re low on body sprays and you’re gonna make Joel help you pick out some new ones, even if you have to drag him kicking and screaming. 

‘Cause Tommy said you’re in charge. 

Part two here

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[theoldsports]

SHITHEAD.

Art Donaldson x Reader.

warnings: a lot of them. 18+, slapping, begging, major angst, brat!Art, an argument with make up sex. Art is really manipulative because… he is a bit and we all know it. [Y/N] is very ill-tempered too. it’s dirty.

can be a part ii to SPONTANEOUS, or read as a standalone. this is my favorite piece of writing i have published on this account.

The bed was empty beside [Y/N]. She stared at Art’s empty side of the bed. The soft green sheets and mix-matched pillowcases went unoccupied. Not because he wasn’t home, but because [Y/N] hated Art so he had to sleep downstairs on the couch.

It wasn’t that she really hated Art. She did hate him right now. Not in a funny way. Their drive home had been silent. Poor Art didn’t know how to facilitate conversation that wouldn’t worsen the situation. His sorrowful eyes, but honest eyes kept glancing from the road to where [Y/N] sat in the passenger seat. The real showdown had started between them something awful when the door to their house slammed shut.

See, Art cried when he got mad. Or sad. Or profoundly excited. Their wedding photos were two-thirds Art crying and trying not to show that he was crying.

Art hadn’t cried tonight yet. That pissed [Y/N] off. She was furious and he seemed to feel absolutely zero discernible feelings about that.

They argued all the time. It rarely lasted all too long.

It was different this time. When [Y/N] started to say something cruel or shout or weep, Art got a little smaller, but he alarmingly stood his ground. He averted his gaze and said “I respectfully disagree,” or “What the fuck do you know about how I feel?” in a dangerously level tone.

Fighting with Art about this wasn’t fun. He was too cool about. He knew he was right. [Y/N] wanted to yell and scream because Art was so relaxed and condescending in his tone. When the man who had spent his teenage years getting referred at competition after competition as literally Ice tonelessly said: “Jesus Christ, aren’t you bored yet? What, going to over-explain the same information to me again, or…?” Finally, that had made [Y/N] drag herself to bed and yank the door closed violently enough that she felt the metallic vibration run all the way up to her shoulder.

And she was still laying there, staring at Art’s side of the bed.

At the Zweig’s party that night, there were a few hot topics in the Donaldsons’ sphere:

1) Lots of congratulations from people that had known them grow up, but hadn’t seen them since the wedding or prior.

This was mostly very kind. It dragged that smirk up Art’s face and caused his fingers to dig tighter into [Y/N]’s waist. That look of pride and tenderness on his face was more than welcome.

2) Lots of questions about Patrick. His lack of attendance was felt.

Both Donaldsons dodged these question as much as they could. Art kept an eye on [Y/N]’s liquor consumption. He knew how embarrassed she would be if she said something she regretted in front of Patrick’s family. Patrick had hurt them both, but Art’s heart went out to [Y/N]. Her world had been built around Patrick’s from a young age. Art was trying to engineer his own world higher around her so she wouldn’t be able to see the old place and people that had burned her over the walls.

3) “You’re married. When are we going to be seeing a little Donaldson running around?”

With Art keeping an eye on [Y/N]’s drinking, she hadn’t really been keeping an eye on him. She just assumed he would keep his shit together. Art drinking in public was never really a concern. He wasn’t a big drinker anyway. At this point, his career mattered more and he was approaching his mid-twenties which made him feel surely less young than he had once. He wasn’t a casual beer guy either. It was Patrick who liked beer and Art who would have a moledo or something sometimes. Art did like white girl drinks, though. Tequila and fruity stuff. He had been able to shoot shot after shot of vodka like a pro in college at a season-end celebration.

Art was a tight-lipped man, but he was a giggly drunk who he got pretty comfortable talking out of his ass from behind a glass with an umbrella in it. Art was rarely comfortable with anything, so a drink or two at a party was welcome to him.

Another important point of context is that the largest point of tension between Art and [Y/N] was starting a family. They desperately wanted a child together, but they disagree on when. [Y/N] felt like she was fresh out of college, so she figured they had plenty of time. Art felt that he was fresh out of college, so he figured they may as well get to it.

Their arguments about this were once semi-regular. In the last four months or so, Art timidly bowed out and hoped [Y/N] would tell him when she was ready (sooner rather than later). He got tired of the low-tier shouting matches. Instead, he would pick fights about things that were decidedly lower stakes when he was bored.

Art had let [Y/N] field comments about family planning throughout the night. Unfortunately, when Art was polishing off a second drink, he ran his mouth a little bit.

Knowing he was the designated driver that night, Art did go easy. Art was also, like, five pounds. While he could hold his liquor with grace, he always got giggly. He watched with heavy eyelids as [Y/N] walked away to collect another drink following the dinner portion of the evening. The paper placecards with their shared last name emblazoned on them rested comfortably in Art’s inner jacket pocket to be kept as a memory.

Some guy who sold boat insurance and liked to rub elbows with talent was talking Art’s ear off. Art couldn’t remember his name, but [Y/N] would know it.

This was the precise moment that got Art in trouble.

Because when the guy whose name Art was sure started with an R said: “So! You’re married. When are we going to be seeing a little Donaldson running around?”

Art said:

“Any day now, I hope. Tomorrow. I’m good to go. [Y/N] thinks now’s not a great time for her.”

He had said it with a smirk and a stupid little laugh. It was basically locker room talk. Big deal. He would’ve said it to Patrick with [Y/N] present in the room. This guy wasn’t Patrick and he was technically speaking behind her back.

Art had forgotten how close they were standing to the bar. He had forgotten that the frequency of his pitchy tenor was known to carry. He had forgotten that he was well known to be an instigator of fights even though he never actually threw the first punch. He had forgotten that he hadn’t been whispering. He had forgotten that this guy… Richy? Ronnie? was pretty much a stranger who had no business knowing their business.

Now, Art was sleeping on the couch and his side of the bed was empty.

Jackass.

[Y/N] stared still at the empty bed and didn’t know how to articulate her upset to an Art who had seemingly yet to feel ashamed.

She had a headache and was tired. But sleep wasn’t going to come easy and all she had to look forward to was a hangover.

Art didn’t really snore, but he was a heavy breather when he slept. The lack of his white noise made the A/C blowing and the stairs creaking too loud. Maybe all of this was on [Y/N] for making Art uncomfortable, she dared to think.

Then she reminded herself that it was Art’s fault for talking too much and for drinking when he knew he was supposed to drive home.

[Y/N] rolled over to face away from Art’s spot. All she could think about is how his hands always sleepily pawed at her to pull her back when she got too far away from him before he fell asleep.

“So, what’d you do?” Patrick asked.

“She hates me.” Art replied. It was almost a question.

“I asked what you did, not what she feels. She already told us what she feels and it’s that she hates you.” Patrick stated. When Patrick had stopped through town for a match, he had come by for dinner with, well, his best friends. This had been right after they’d gotten engaged.

Art sniffled. He didn’t want to cry in front of Patrick. Art would sooner cry in front of his own father. Both men would have laughed in his face, but it would have stung more from Patrick. “We got into a fight yesterday. A big one. Like, the first, uh, big one. She’s worried about the f—“

“The future? Please,” Patrick said bitterly. He frowned and his jaw tightened, but he combatted it by tossing Art a smile before the other man noticed the tension. “Stupid. You’re gonna marry her. You’ll play tennis. She’ll do her… columns? Articles. I don’t get what it is that she does—“

“She writes for—“

“Sure, yeah. You’re gonna have two kids so you can each pick a favorite one. And she’s gonna be a pain in your ass forever. Don’t be a pussy.”

Art sniffled again and stared at the floor. “I didn’t mean to do anything wrong. I didn’t think I did,” Art said meekly. “I don’t get it. She gets so mad sometimes. At me.” Patrick stared at him blankly. Art had to know that he was usually at least a little bit the problem.

“Did she do the thing where she calls you a—“

“Shithead bastard?”

“Shithead bastard.” Both boys said at the same time. Art dragged his hands through his hair and looked up at Patrick. Both of them quirked a smirk at the other.

“See,” Patrick started. “You’ll be fine. Fuckin’ go after her.”

“And say what!”

“Uh… ‘I’m sorry?’ You do that kinda shit. She’ll like that.”

It was impossible to know how long [Y/N] laid there. The clock was on Art’s side and she would get spitting mad if she rolled back over.

She could just go downstairs and tell Art to come back to bed. He was probably sleeping just fine.

“Hey, hon, you don’t hate me, right?” Art’s voice whispered in the darkness.

[Y/N] was fairly certain she had imagined it. She had not heard his sweaty feet on the stairs or his fingers against the doorknob. Quickly, [Y/N] whipped over to face the door behind her.

There was Art. His sweatpants sat low on his hips and his shirt was long gone. Clothing didn’t often survive the night on Art’s back.

Really, she couldn’t help but wonder how long it had taken Art to work through coming upstairs so quietly. “Mm?” [Y/N] groaned in question.

Art rocked his right shoulder into the doorway to lean. His arms were crossed and his eyes straight ahead on her from what [Y/N] could tell in the glow of the hallway’s thermostat. “Please just tell me you don’t hate me and I’ll let you go back to sleep. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

With a sigh, [Y/N] sat up and rolled her cracking shoulders back. “I don’t hate you, Art.” Her heart melted a little bit. [Y/N] knew it was immature, but her special attack in arguments since childhood was to bandy around the word hate a lot. Not that she had said it to Art tonight, but she had no doubt said it before. More than once. More times than she could count, maybe.

She was surprised Art had never asked this before. That surprise hurt in an a way that was too complex to describe. “I could never hate you.” [Y/N] continued, voice hushed only because it was dark out.

Art’s posture relaxed slightly. “You promise you don’t?” Said Art’s evermore crippling lack of self-confidence.

“I promise.” [Y/N] replied calmly.

“Okay. Thank you.” Art said in a small voice.

“I love you, baby. I don’t hate you. You shouldn’t have to ask that. I’m sorry I made you feel like you even have to ask that.”

Art frowned sharply. “No, I’m the one that should be sorry. You told me nicely not to talk about—“

“Don’t play that. You have to know you don’t feel like you did anything wrong, so you don’t have to invent a situation where you’re some horrible person.”

Art was silent.

[Y/N] continued. “I’m pissed because you told Randy,” RANDY. His name was RANDY. That’s it. “Our business. My business, really. He’s an asshole. It’s fine. Well, not now, but eventually. But you kinda martyred yourself on it. You don’t have to do that and I don’t hate you. You know I don’t… Right?”

“I’m sorry.” Art said quickly. He was gifted at making every single minor problem his own fault. He knew he was a little bit of an awful person for that, but he would die before admitting it. Art would hide behind his martyring habit as long as his cross could hold him, though. [Y/N] hadn’t noticed before this moment, but she could see the shining of his eyes in the digital blue-green glow. Tears. This time, less than obvious waterworks. Aw.

“I’m sorry. I’m still pissed at you for running your mouth, but I’m sorry too.”

Art nodded, said nothing else and reached for the doorknob.

Here is a frustrating thing about Art.

He said he was going to leave for downstairs once [Y/N] said she didn’t hate him. He started to make good on that vow. If he says something, he’s going to do it, even though he doesn’t have to do it.

“Come on,” [Y/N] called louder than she’d been whispering. “Come here, pretty baby.”

Pretty Baby by Blondie had been their wedding song. She had been calling him that for almost as long as she had known him. Saying it, or hearing the song always made that stunning, small crooked smile stretch up beyond his sad puppy eyes all the way to his ears.

Art’s kryptonite was pretty baby. They both knew it.

He turned to look at her with a slight blush on his cheeks, almost visible in the dark. Art shifted one of his feet childishly over the other in apprehension.. “Don’t make me say it again. I don’t like to ask twice.” [Y/N] reminded him.

After a hasty nod, Art was in bed before he [Y/N] blinked. The blonde sat bolt upright beside [Y/N] with his eyes wide. Hesitant, but coyly so. He knew this pattern. The agony and shame from her brutality would only last so long. Housepets loved to cause trouble for treat.

Not to say that Art liked to start fights so he could play some low-status lapdog that got to feel his wife’s fingers comb through his hair the way he liked as a reward for an apology. The man bit his cheek to avoid a devious smirk. A part of him did like to do that sometimes, though.

He always got away with it. He was such a nice boy.

[Y/N] rolled her eyes and leaned back into the threadbare pillows. With a finger, she beckoned Art nearer. Hesitation eliminated, Art flopped slowly down beside [Y/N]; she on her back, he on his side, facing her. Delicately, Art’s fingers dragged down [Y/N]’s arm to curl in her fingers.

Not long after that, his plush mouth climbed down from her neck. Then shoulders and collarbones. Then bicep. Elbow. Forearm and wrist. Down her hand to her silver-studded ring finger. Each kiss with accompanied with an honest and dutiful I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. He was sorry. Genuinely. Sorry for the upset he brought his wife, but not the cause. Art’s beautiful duel-colored eyes glanced up at [Y/N]’s blown pupils through her own fingers.

“I didn’t mean to talk about you like that… I just… I love you so much that I want more of you. That’s all, honey,” Art laid his head on [Y/N]’s upper chest and his mouth moved against the front of her throat. “I’m just a little stupid, huh…”

Under his lips, Art could feel the rumble of a laugh rip through [Y/N]’s throat. Her fingers tangled themselves in his hair to hold him in place. “Do-don’t talk about yourself like that,” she mumbled and gave his hair a lovely tug with both hands. He whimpered. [Y/N] wanted to bottle that sound. Art would always remember what she said next and how she said it: “Only I get to talk about you like that… St-stupid.”

This was the version of [Y/N] he was going to remember when he thought of her every day for the rest of his life. That sentence, the way her hair hung from where he had pushed it away from her neck. The sting of the cold metal from her wedding ring on the back of his neck and the stone of her engagement ring pressing into where he reached his palm to place his hand over hers. There was just the wrong amount of clothes between them. Her eyes ringed smoky from the makeup smudges and the exhaustion.

“Say it again.” Art whispered, swinging a knee over [Y/N]’s thighs so he could stare down at her. His forehead pressed softly against [Y/N]’s.

[Y/N]’s mouth fell open slightly with a breathy exhalation. Holy shit. “What, pretty baby, you want me to tell you how stupid you are? You like that?” [Y/N] almost whispered into Art’s still lips. He was too shocked to kiss her back, but too turned on to pull away. Art whimpered louder than before. [Y/N] felt him nod.

So she didn’t hold back. “You think I need to punish you after you behaved like that today or something? You need to atone for what a moron you were, shithead?” [Y/N] kept her tone light enough to just about tease as her nose trailed along the side of his. Her objective was to belittle. Her nails slid down Art’s muscular, sturdy back.

They both knew Art was a masochist on his worst days. Did he get off on being degraded sometimes? Sure. But this series of events was ridiculously new and exciting for [Y/N]. And shockingly obviously for Art too.

His hips pressed into her pathetically. “What? Did you need help with something?” She asked innocently when she felt Art’s hard-on against her thigh. [Y/N] kissed him distractingly warmly for how she was treating him. Art’s head spun and he couldn’t seem to make sense of anything anymore. He had backed himself into the best kind of corner.

Across Art’s hips and side went [Y/N]’s left hand, to the front of his sweatpants. Humiliatingly, Art blinked tears out of his eyes and screwed them shut. His mouth opened and closed, but no intelligent sound came out. [Y/N] planted a kiss at the corner of his parted lips. His strong arms boxed [Y/N] protectively in from above, but she had him locked into place, really. “Baby, if you want something, you know you have to ask for it.”

“Nnh,” Art tried, eyes stuck shut. His attention was mostly spent hold himself up over his wife. His insanely gorgeous wife. [Y/N]’s other hand grabbed his jaw tenderly. He still didn’t look at her. Art was gathering his courage. “Yo-you already told me I couldn’t have what I wanted.”

With a sharp inhale, [Y/N] grip went from gentle to nonexistent. At the lack of contact, Art’s damp eyes crept open one at a time to see if his brattiness had overstepped the situation. His frightened eyes caught [Y/N]’s. She popped the side of his face sharply with an open palm. Art blinked and tipped his head to the side like a dog.

That was big trouble, huh?

“Fuck,” he said. Both of them panted in sync. “I’m sorry.” He meant it.

[Y/N] pulled Art’s face to hers and kissed him hard. “I love… you.” She said.

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson #challengers movie

[slavghoul]

Interview from Metal Hammer 8/2023

LIFE LESSONS from TOBIAS FORGE

Shock rock, bad glam bands and wanting to be Venom: inside the brain of Ghost's benevolent overlord

Tobias Forge is the mastermind behind one of the 21st century's hottest metal bands, but even he’ll admit that success was a long time in the making. Hailing from the Swedish city of Linköping, the Ghost frontman dabbled in everything from death metal to glam before donning the iconic Papal attire and paint to transform into Papa Emeritus, transcending his roots to become a larger-than-life character. Here are the key parables he has to share, gleaned from more than 25 years on the heavy metal frontlines.

MUSIC AND MOVIES ARE GATEWAYS TO OTHER WORLDS

“Linköping was a nice city to grow up in. It wasn’t so small you felt like you were cramped in a village, but it’s small enough that you’d still want to eventually move somewhere else. You’d have access to all these gateways to other worlds through the record stores and the local video store. My dreams started there - everything I do now, I dreamt back there.”

I WAS A TEENAGE HEADBANGER

“I had a teenage brother growing up, so I had a free pass into teenage culture. Whatever they consumed, I got a whiff of - how they dressed, what they watched on TV, what films they rented... The lifestyle and expression that meant most to me was shock rock. Twisted Sister were a wrecking ball into my life with I Wanna Rock. That song made me want to bounce!”

THE HEAVIER IT GOT, THE DEEPER I WANTED TO GO

“When I first heard Candlemass, I was eight and I was blown away. I already liked Black Sabbath, Metallica and Motorhead through my brother, but Candlemass were local and sounded so heavy, it was like doomsday. King Diamond and Candlemass served as a segue for me to discover death metal and black metal in the early 90s. It became my calling. From the ages of 12 to 22, I spent my life in death and black metal bands.”

FOLLOW YOUR HEART (AND SOMETIMES YOUR WALLET)

“My mom is from Stockholm, so when I was 15 and started saying I wanted to move there, she was just like ‘Finish mandatory school’ and we moved together [after I graduated]. I moved back to Linköping when I was 25, because Stockholm is a big metropolitan place and it’s not fun living in those places if you don’t have money. Now I’m in Stockholm again; it’s more fun now I can afford it!”

HEAD IN THE CLOUDS, FEET ON THE GROUND

“I learned the hard way in the late 90s that wanting to play 80s-inspired death metal with my band Repugnant was     painfully out of touch with what was going on at the time. It broke my heart; I wanted us to be signed to Roadrunner and support Slayer. That never happened unfortunately - or perhaps fortunately, as it kept me grounded for a few more years and if those things had happened maybe I wouldn't be here today.”

TAKE CHANCES, BUT STAND YOUR GROUND

“Repugnant had a close shave with success. We signed to the label Hammerheart, which at the time felt like we’d made it because the first thing they did was take us out on our first tour, supporting the American band Macabre. They were a favourite band of ours - still are, and whenever we play Chicago they come to the shows - and at that point it felt like we might be going somewhere, but we quickly parted ways with Hammerheart because we couldn’t agree. It felt like our chance and we’d blown it.”

NOT ALL 80S BANDS WERE CREATED EQUAL

“With Crashdiet, we never really went beyond our home. I can’t say how many shows we did, but I don’t think it was more than a handful. For me especially there was conflict with the singer, Dave Lepard. We were friends, but he clearly wanted to take his band into some sort of glam-sleaze direction, whereas when I think of ‘glam’ I’m more Hanoi Rocks and Guns N’ Roses - never, ever the other bands. I know Poison kinda came before a lot of the latecomers, but to me they were repellent. Dave wanted to go all neon and I wanted it so that if we were glam, we’d be Hanoi Rocks meets Lords Of The New Church or The Dead Boys. I don’t want to be fucking Stryper! Fuck that!”

THERE’S NO POINT TRYING TO FOLLOW FASHION

“It was a confusing time in the early 2000s – rock was all of a sudden in fashion because of bands like Franz Ferdinand and Kaiser Chiefs. Everyone was always looking for the next big rock band and in Sweden The Hives were huge, as were The Soundtrack Of Our Lives, The Hellacopters, Backyard Babies...so many rock bands! But there we were in Subvision, influenced by The Dead Boys, with a little-too-long hair, leather jackets, just a little too ‘metal’... yuck! You’re supposed to be more indie; heavy metal is about having the biggest dick and indie is the opposite.”

FIRST IMPRESSIONS REALLY DO COUNT

“I hated The Strokes when they first came out. Back then, everyone described them as being so natural, that they weren’t interested in being rock stars, and I was like, ‘No. They didn’t wake up looking like that.' They chose to do that to be rock stars. And they can really play! Then when First Impressions Of Earth came out it was like, ‘There you go! That's what they really sound like! After that, I loved The Strokes, because they were showing they actually did love the music, but a lot of indie rockers treated it like it was their sell-out record.”

HAVE A VISION IN MIND

“Ghost started with a song, Stand By Him, which ultimately came out on our first record. I wrote it spontaneously, as an experiment - almost a joke, if you will, in 2006. When I recorded it the first time, I had no equipment in my home, so I had to go to a friend’s house. We did this very rough demo. He said it was great. He’d been in Subvision, Repugnant and Crashdiet with me, but we’d stopped playing together. He was like, ‘Can we form a new band?’ and I was like, ‘This song is the only thing I have. If I can come up with two more songs and there’s a pattern, then of course.’ But they needed to be as playful and spontaneous, and sure enough they were.”

PRESSURE CAN DO WONDERS

“Around 2008, when Ghost were first getting properly started, my girlfriend told me she was pregnant with twins. I never said it out loud, but I was preparing for my dream not coming true - maybe I wouldn’t become a rock star, I’d never be successful... So I had to at least have something that I could live with, a hobby that I could feel strongly about and get all my inclinations filtered through. I wanted to play metal, but also write pop music, have this horror rock show with theatre... Still taking inspiration from Venom pictures in 1982 where they looked like bikers surrounded by smoke and red lights. Ghost felt like a combination of all those things. Lo and behold, when I didn’t have all the time in the world, like I had before and gotten nowhere, when I could only put so much effort in, everything changed.”

THE MYTHOS IS NICE, BUT ONLY THE MUSIC MATTERS

“It was so weird, being threatened with a ‘reveal’ [Tobias’s public identity was revealed after ex-members took legal action against him in 2017I, as if people knowing who I was would be such a turn-off that they’d never listen to Ghost again. Here I am, most of my life wanting to be known, but then I was fighting to be unknown? What a paradox!”

ROLL WITH THE PUNCHES

“I’ve always tried to be like a general – have a goal, like, ‘Let’s take that castle’, but knowing that things can change in the field. You need to conduct yourself with a certain level of elasticity. I know I’m a control freak and want things to be done in a certain way, but I’m also aware things never work out that way.”

CHALLENGE YOURSELF

“One of the biggest weaknesses with modern metal - and horror - is that it’s being created and curated by people who only like that thing, so it becomes regurgitation. The best horror movies I’ve seen - Jaws, Bram Stoker’s Dracula, The Exorcist, The Omen - were made by people who never made horror films elsewhere. They wouldn’t limit themselves. If you don’t like other things, that’s fine, but if you ever feel stuck creatively it might just be that you’re sticking too close to home. I can’t even imagine just sticking to one lane these days.”

#the band ghost #tobias forge #interview

[a-simple-imagine]

Pass Me By

Synopsis: Jordan doesn't wanna date you but no-one else can either.... based on this prompt by @poppy-metal

pairing: jordan li x fem!reader

words: 2.9k+

WARNINGS - swearing, suggestive themes, alcohol, insecurities about gender and just a hint of a toxic situationship

It's a tranquil, cosy night under the relaxing sound of rainfall rattling against the glass windows that do not open. faint moonlight bathes the room in a divine glow. this wasn't your dorm room but a place you knew all too well. from the collection of beer bottles starting to form across their desk to the joint buds in the ashtray. a guitar sits collecting dust in the corner. you've never seen them play it or so much as acknowledge it. a skateboard balanced on the shelf for decoration more than anything. The room always has this pleasant smokey cologne lingering in the air. it was a messy room. a sort of organised chaos that was so incredibly Jordan li. but you loved it. you'd drown in the ashy mix of cologne and joint smoke if you could because it meant spending time with them. it meant they wanted you here. it meant something. you liked Jordan and they liked you. although they had trouble showing it. you have had that very awkward conversation before but now you avoid any mention of it. they explained they didn't really know what they wanted and at the time, you were fine with that but now you're not too sure. now you kind of wish you could bring it up again and have a grown-up conversation but you're much too scared to face reality. because an ounce of their affection would always be better than none of it. you would rather live in the mystery than feel completely alone.

your head relaxes against their toned, slightly sweaty, chest. fingertips gliding up and down your stomach in a slow steady rhythm. it's delicate. soothing. tickles just a little bit. you could honestly stay like this forever, relishing in their affection. they feel so warm against you. it fills you with such a content, comfortable, feeling. you have been together like this for a while now, listening to them spill secrets in your ear like you're an angsty teenager's new journal. they scribble down all their hopes and dreams; their greatest fears. garnishing the page with pretty stickers and pictures so when they look back, they can't help but smile. it's silly but it makes you feel good. it was such a uniquely intimate moment. nobody knew Jordan the way you did. they didn't allow themselves to be vulnerable too often. perhaps some misguided attempt to seem cool and mysterious. but with you they did and that must mean something, right?

"I don't know," their soft voice fills the otherwise quiet room. "it's really kinda stupid."

"you don't have to tell me," you explain, moving your head to briefly look up at them. "but I'm here if you want."

a warm silence settles over the two of you. you take it as a sign that they don't want to talk about it which is fine. you would never pressure them into talking about anything they're not comfortable with. After a moment, they speak up again. "my powers are such a big part of who I am," their voice is very quiet almost like they're scared to say it. "would I still be this way without them?"

rolling onto your stomach, you finally look up at them properly. his hair is tousled and just a little messy but pretty. no matter what, it always looked pretty. even in the dim light, you can notice the dusting of pink across their cheeks. they seemed content; relaxed. "be what way?" you wonder. jordan's hand that once danced across your skin now rests against the small of your back.

"bigender, obviously."

"I don't know," they wanted an answer you couldn't give to them. identity was such a personal thing." how did you feel when you were younger?"

"I guess it's always been a little confusing,"

"Why are you suddenly questioning it?" you wonder with a slight chuckle. imitating their action from earlier by running your fingers up and down their chest.

"dunno," they shrug. "it's just a little fucked that my powers are just one more thing for people to hate me for."

without powers, Jordan never would have gotten into Godu. and if they hadn't gotten into godu, you'd probably never have met. the world can be a cruel place full of distaste and anger but as selfish as it was, you're grateful for the opportunity to know them. "you're always gonna get people who hate supes."

"yeah, but I mean like people hate that I shift. the whole bigender thing doesn't sell- it's fucking shit." his voice is louder now; firm. "add that to the whole Asian thing and I'm screwed. everything is against me."

"Jordan," you hum softly, stopping your motion. they've always been so confident in their identity. never cared what anyone else wanted from them. it was something you admired about them, so it was almost weird watching them discuss it with such uncertainty. to question something so fundamental to them. you hardly knew anything about yourself. "do you want to know what i think?"

"i guess," he huffs out. a grumpy little guy.

"I don't think it actually matters," you urge, planting a gentle kiss against their sweaty stomach. "maybe you wouldn't have been bigender. maybe you would have. maybe your powers are just a manifestation of who you were always meant to be. at the end of the day, all that matters is who you are now." you lay your head back down against their chest. "and i think they're pretty awesome." with a gentle hum, his arms slide over to hug you against them. guess they were satisfied with that answer.

"Well thanks," he says after a moment. "now if you could just convince the rest of the world to be less transphobic or xenophobic too, that'd be more useful."

"I'll get right on that,"

"parents would be happier. the powers they wanted but none of the gender shit. just their perfect superhero son."

"you are their perfect superhero son." you grin. "you're just also their perfect superhero daughter too. their perfect superhero person."

"you think I'm perfect," he teases.

"I think you're… something."

"hot? sexy? the coolest? what?"

you chuckle. leaning down to kiss their stomach but this time you gently nip the skin. "I'm not gonna feed that massive ego of yours."

"I already know you're obsessed with me," his grasp around you tightens ever so slightly. "can hardly blame you." you smile against them. they were probably right. you wouldn't admit it. "I wish they looked at me the same way."

"fuck them."

"don't talk about my parents like that." Jordan insists. "only I can say stuff like that."

"Sorry," you respond. you can hear their heart beating in their chest. one heart. one beautiful, fucked up person. you let your eyes flutter closed, enjoying the sound of Jordan li. "people put expectations on us and that's fucked. just be whoever you want."

"suppose." he mumbles softly. "sorry for being pathetic- no more talking about stupid ass feelings."

"I don't mind." you really didn't. you would listen to them talk about anything. "really."

the thing about being with Jordan is that you're never really with Jordan. it is always very hot and cold. you may find yourself in their bed naked, listening to their confessions but the very next day, they would probably ignore you. you rationalise their reaction by considering it embarrassment. they get self-conscious when it comes to being vulnerable. that doesn't make you feel better in the immediate sense but does allow you to remain hopeful for the future. you often see them around campus but you don't really talk. even if you did, they prefer to act like you hardly know each other. even just a smile is too much for Jordan Li; they prefer a dirty look. occasionally they found the time to text you back but that's hardly anything to write home about. plus you're always the one to initiate the conversation unless they're after something. your friends think they're an asshole. every time you find yourself left on read or longingly stalking their social media, they'd tell you to move on. and that's how you ended up here. at some random dorm party. apparently, the best way to get over them is to find someone new. you didn't want someone new but apparently, that's not a good enough reason to stay home. it's not a bad party. it's actually pretty fun once you relax and stop checking your phone every few minutes. but you should have known that if there was a party, Jordan Li would probably be there looking as radiant and mysterious as ever. a ghost haunting you in a crowd of drunk students. they also seemed to have a way of always knowing exactly where you are. you'd keep catching sight of them when you're getting a drink or talking to someone new. you're supposed to be ignoring them but they're making it very hard.

with a red cup full of the most disgusting beer in one hand, you're sitting on a couch listening to some random guy tell you all about himself. his name was Mike. Matthew? Matthew seemed correct. you don't remember exactly. it is so loud in here. the music wasn't even good. he was handsome though.

"so that's why I decided psychology would be better." he continues to explain his shift in major which had to do with his family. it's a sweet story. he seemed like such a genuine person. "I wanna help people but not through crime-fighting plus that'll give me a chance to work with supes and regular people."

"that's cool," you nod. it came out a little sarcastic but you never meant it that way. you had such admiration for people who wanna use their powers for good. it's not like you wanted to take over the world or anything but rather you had no clue what you wanted. it reminded you of your conversation with Jordan. you have no clue who you are or what you want. "I wish I was smart enough for that. kinda feel like I'm just here at the moment."

"that's fine too like you've got loads of time," he assures you, shuffling a little closer. a hand coming to rest on your arm along the back of the couch.

"that's true," you agree. "I don't know. we'll see, I'm not too worried like it's-"

"hey," you both look up to spy a masculine Jordan Li staring back with their arms crossed over their chest. his expression was indecipherable but fuck, did he look so good. "you gonna introduce us?" why would you introduce them? jordan wasn't part of this interaction and you hardly knew the other guy. Why was Jordan even here? they haven't spoken to you in days. when you don't respond, Matthew takes the liberty of introducing himself. you did remember his name correctly. "I'm Jordan."

"I know- everyone knows. you're in the top ten dude." Matthew is a little too eager. you would think he was the one sleeping with them.

"I am, yeah. can I just borrow," they point at you. "for a sec."

"uh…"

"I'm sorry. I'll be back." as you stand, Jordan clasps your wrist and basically hauls you up and off towards the hallway. you don't bother protesting. they were stronger than you anyway. "what do you want?"

"what are you doing?" voice firm. jordan shifts to his femme form. fluffy short hair becomes an adorable bob. a much smaller frame but arguably more intimidating.

"excuse me?" your brow furrows.

"Are you stupid ?" Jordan asks, in a slightly more aggressive tone. "what are you doing?"

"what do you mean?" you had no clue what was going on right now. "I'm not doing anything."

"that dude is like all over you."

"no, he isn't. We're just talking," you argue.

a humourless laugh. "I know you're not that fucking naive,"

"Why do you even care?" you shoot back. you would hardly consider the conversation you were having the epitome of flirting. sure, there were a few lingering glances and some touching but there wasn't anything wrong with that. at least they were actually interested, unlike Jordan. "you've been ignoring me all week." a flash of surprise across their face that quickly disappears as they turn away from you.

"I've been busy."

"That's what you always say-"

"excuse me for having a life that doesn't revolve around you," Jordan fires back snappily, scowling back at you.

"why are you mad at me?"

"oh, I don't know. blatantly flirting with guys when you know I'm right there is a pretty shitty thing to do."

"I'm not flirting with anyone, we're just talking about our majors," you clarify. "and it's none of your business anyway, it's not like we're together. I can flirt with whoever I want."

"so you admit it." a scoff leaves your mouth. wait. was Jordan Li jealous right now? the same Jordan li who couldn't be bothered to so much as smile at you in the hallway was now mad that you're talking to someone else at a party? you can't help but laugh a little and when they frown in confusion, you laugh a little more.

"Are you fucking serious right now?" you ask, a playful quirk of your brow. "is the infamous Jordan Li jealous?"

"don't be an idiot," they defend, taking a step away and leaning back against the wall. you watch them carefully before following their gaze out into the sea of other people. "why would I be jealous?"

you close the distance once more; leaning in close. you hold their gaze. such soft pretty eyes hold so many secrets. "because you like me,"

"fuck off," Jordan huffs, flinching away from you. "I don't care what you do."

this whole conversation proved otherwise but okay. either way, you were done arguing over it. you were supposed to be focusing on other people not getting wrapped up in Jordan li again. "sure," you comment sarcastically. "I'm gonna get a drink and you're gonna leave me alone." you don't give them a chance to respond; simply walking away in search of a new drink. you half expect them to follow but they don't. with a fresh red cup, you decide to return to Matthew. he seems to have found somebody new to talk to. a tall guy with very distinctive feline eyes. "sorry about that." the boy looks at you, with a confused frown and then back to his friend. That was weird. "are you okay?"

"yeah," a smirk. "I just don't fuck with other people's girls. too messy." with that said, they both walk away. other people's girls? you weren't dating anyone. falling down against the couch, you search the crowd and spot a certain guy sporting a mischievous smirk. surely not. surely Jordan wasn't that much of a dick. when they catch your eye, they start walking towards you

"you look a little lonely over here."

"fuck you." you spit sharply.

"touchy." they hold their hands up in the air to feign innocence.

"you're such a fucking asshole," you grumble. sinking further down into the plush fabric of the couch. you were pissed. not over Matthew specifically. after all, you hardly knew him. but over the fact, that Jordan was so petty. you never expected them to do something as stupid as this.

"I didn't do anything " Jordan claims, a quick shrug of their shoulders. "he was just a dick."

"you told him I was your girlfriend."

"I didn't do shit," Jordan responds casually, shifting into their femme form as they fall down on the couch beside you. you sit forward ready to leave but not quite doing so. "I just decided to come talk to you since you seemed all lonely- sorry for trying to be nice."

"you don't know how to be nice."

"ouch," a playful hand slaps over the heart. "however will I go on" they chuckle, leaning back in their seat.

"fuck you."

"Will you chill out," their hands slide over your shoulders; gently pulling you back and into their awaiting embrace. "that guy was fucking dull as shit,"

"you don't even know him," you huff. no attempt to move out of their embrace; breathing in their perfume. it was surprisingly fruity. not their normal go-to.

"maybe not." Jordan answers. "but I know you." she hugs you against her chest. warm and tight. "I know your body." their hand slips down across your waist to rest upon your upper thigh. leaning in close, her breath is hot against your neck. "that dude could never fuck you as well as I do." whispered in your ear. A tingle spills down your spine. you shift against them, feeling very hot all of a sudden. "we both know it." you swallow hard. You don't know what to say. and frankly, you're worried that if you do they'll hear the tremble in your voice. you definitely don't want them to know the effect they had on you. not right now. not when you're supposed to be ignoring them. a feather-like kiss against your neck before it presses deeper. jordan sinks her teeth into your skin and your mouth falls open. a soft sigh slipping into the air.

"fuck…"

"That's what I thought," hummed against your skin before they pulled away. "so how about we stop playing games and go find somewhere quiet," they gently squeezed your thigh. "yeah?"

Jordan fucking li. they really were a piece of work. and your friends were gonna be oh so disappointed in you.

#gen v #jordan li #jordan li x reader #the boys #jordan li x you #derek luh #london thor

[sixeyesgojo]

all good things come in threes

☾ Summary: Winning a bet against Gojo ‘big ass ego’ Satoru isn't as easy as you thought. But you can't complain either. ☾ Characters: highschool!Gojo Satoru x reader ☾ Word count: 6k ☾ Content warning: use of petnames, implied height difference, tooth-rotting fluff, Gojo's a little shit and has negative rizz ☾ Author's note: My heart was going through STUFF. ☾ Tags: @nagumoan @heresan @peachsayshi @trueformsukuna @gojos-princesa @cursedmoonchild

White tufts of hair. Round sunglasses. An annoying facial expression directed at you. That was your view. You let out an exasperated sigh. Out of everyone available at the time, they just had to choose you to partner up with Satoru. It was to make sure the young conceited sorcerer wouldn’t go overboard or well, get ahead of himself. Sure, his abilities were extraordinary and even at a young age, he had already displayed an astonishing understanding of his cursed techniques and various other battle-related skills. Everyone knew that Satoru was set to be a pioneer and that he didn’t exactly need a partner to fulfill his missions. You knew about his abilities, how they worked and his modus operandi, already having had experience partnering up with him on various missions. But those had been wildly different as they required a partner, a second person. This one clearly didn’t. Yet they still sent you with him, knowing full well that he could handle it himself. These damn fossils.

It was understandable that Satoru had his own opinions about this rather unexpected turn of events. After having heard his initial protestations, which contained the words “no faith”, “incompetent” and how he was “not some random weakling”, you’ve had enough and it began to annoy you. Neither of you were responsible for orders being passed down as they were; and both of you knew that some of them did not make sense, some of them were plain unreasonable and some of them just seemed antiquated, obsolete, outdated. If anyone had enough power to object orders from above, it was the young sorcerer in front of you. However, he didn’t bother to do so. As for you, you had questioned the intent behind the task assigned to you, but simply accepted it as it was. There was no helping it anyway. In the end, you were just a cog in a giant and screwed system.

And so, you were stuck with him on a mission to rescue civilians and eliminate a first grade curse. “I still don’t understand why I need a partner for this. Do I look like a total wimp?” he complained and pulled a grimace.

You rolled your eyes at him, clearly displeased at the situation yourself, “I bet they assigned me to keep your big ass ego in check.”

For someone who had grumbled that much about you being his partner this time around, Satoru certainly seemed entertained in one way or another. At least, a small part of him seemed to revel in the situation. “And I’m sure you will do an excellent job at keeping my ‘big ass ego’ at bay,” he retorted sarcastically, all while giving you that damn smirk. No one else in the world could look so smug while being a prick. So what if you found him attractive? So what if his teasing made your heart skip one or two beats? So what if the smirk made you want to kiss it off of his stupid face? His personality was foul enough. At that moment, all you wanted to do was to smack him but you knew exactly that his bothersome Infinity wouldn’t let you.

“Ugh, I don’t exactly enjoy being stuck with someone who constantly complains either. I’ll just get this mission done as quickly as I can and then we’re both free from each other. Deal?” you rambled. Your keenness to end this all as soon as possible made his ears perk up and upon hearing this, the white-haired teenager dropped his empty can on the ground, “Woah woah woah, hold your horses. I am pretty sure you can’t even defeat the curse as fast as I can, so who’s stuck with who?”

You shrugged as you picked up the metal can, ever so trusting in your abilities. Although you knew he was the strongest, that didn’t mean you couldn’t beat him to it, right? You just had to be clever about it. “Fine, let’s make a bet then. Whoever lands the finishing blow on the curse wins,” you suggested and tossed the metallic container into a trashcan. Satoru raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “Loser has to do whatever the winner wants,” the sorcerer decided. He seemed interested enough.

“Fine by me. Don’t cry about it when I win,” you said, grinning at him. He grinned back at you, all too confident in his victory already, “I’m afraid I’ll be the one wiping your tears.”

Days passed. Finally, the fateful day was here.

“Will you hurry up?” he urged you. “I’m already on my way,” you replied, annoyed at being rushed by him. Why were you two walking to the scene in the first place? “Come on, we don’t have all day,” he continued. You rolled your eyes. Not everybody had the privilege of having stilts for legs. Still, you sped up in order to catch up to him.

“This is the place,” Satoru pointed out, stopping abruptly. He held his arm out in front of you, as if to keep you out… if one was delusional enough, the gesture could have been interpreted as a protective one. Promptly, you shook your head. There was no time for such thoughts. You could daydream later—focus was more important now.

“There are still people inside. We need to evacuate them first,” he inferred, looking into your eyes. Your mind then switched to mission mode immediately.  “Then we can take it down together.”

You nodded; even without verbal communication, the allocation of tasks was successfully conveyed. Vanishing from his sight, you were off to evacuate anyone that was left in the vicinity. Sure, Satoru could find the curse and get rid of it on his own. Then he would have won the bet easily. However, something in your gut told you that he wouldn’t do that. He could be fair… sometimes—even if it was for his own enjoyment. Admittedly, he wasn’t a bad partner on missions; he just wasn’t the greatest personality-wise. But he certainly had a charm to him. That’s how he unknowingly wrapped you around his finger…

The evacuation went as smooth as it could—with one or two stray bullets that would not listen, as per usual. Since you had already done this lots of times, you were able to finish up quickly and get the civilians to safety with the help of the assistants: the Windows.

“I’m here,” you announced to him as soon as you were back. And you were right! He just leaned against a wall, waiting for you. “About time. I almost thought you wouldn’t come anymore because you got scared shitless. You ready to take this thing down?” He asked. You smirked at him, “You bet I am. Ready to kick your sorry ass.”

Chuckling, he swung himself into a proper standing position. “Alright. I see you’re being as feisty as ever. Remember: The loser will have to do whatever the other person wants after all this is over,” the tall teenager reminded you with a cocky grin. Oh, he was so sure that he would win. His eyes gleamed with excitement and he was ready to fight this curse to ensure his oh-so-sweet victory over you. Of course, he had already thought of his prospective prize.

As if on cue, the curse appeared behind him and roared. In the blink of an eye, two giant claws came swinging at Satoru. You didn’t hesitate to activate your own cursed technique, successfully blocking the slash attack at frightening speed.

“Mark me impressed,” Satoru laughed. It wasn’t his first time seeing you in action but he couldn’t help but tease you, “You’re still not on my level but it’ll do.”

You rolled your eyes, “You say this every time we’re partnered up. Doesn’t it get old?”

He simply laughed as you both dodged an incoming blow. The two of you continued to face off with the curse. Before long, both of you had landed blows on the enemy. He was holding back for some reason—that’s what you thought—otherwise you were sure that this level of curse would have been taken care of by his hands already. It was neither weak nor was it anything drastically above your level. There was one thing you were sure about: He was stalling—and you played right into his games. But your pride wouldn’t let you drop out of the bet. 

It wasn’t long until the curse crumbled to dust. You panted a little, looking at the white-haired sorcerer. The enemy was gone now but he didn’t look like he had broken a single sweat. He dusted himself off and straightened his posture.

“Now about that winner and loser thing…” he began, “I think you can guess the winner.”

You huffed. Damn. Despite holding out well, your plan was a failure. But a bet was a bet, right? “Fine, what do you want me to do?” you probed. He wouldn’t ask you to do bizarre things for him, right?

Satoru tapped his chin, pretending to think, when in reality he had already known before the fight even started. You looked like you poured your whole heart into winning, so he couldn’t help but hold back a little.

“Then… how about going out for ice cream? It’s on me. I think I deserve ice cream after working so hard,” he finally spoke. At first, you thought your brain was playing pranks on you. “Wait,” you paused, “Are you asking me out as your prize for winning the bet?”

A playful grin spread on his face. “You could definitely say that.” He specified, “But I also just really like ice cream on a summer day and I think we deserve some. What, are you chickening out now?”

You looked at him quizzically, questioning whether this was a joke on his part. You felt your heart speed up and the tips of your ears became warmer by the second. “Fair. A win is a win. I guess I’ll go have ice cream with you,” you muttered. Was he scheming something? Did he… perhaps like—

He chuckled and proceeded with a half-teasing tone, “You guess?” The laughter that followed after was soft. “We gotta report back first and then we can go.” Without further ado, he turned on his heel and walked away. The grin that was on his face was not visible to you. “Ugh, shut up,” you grumbled, still somewhat flustered. Nevertheless, you followed him. This damn heart wouldn’t let you rest.

The briefing didn’t take long at all—the mission was a success. After making a report, the two of you headed to a nearby ice cream store. As you stood in line waiting for your sweet cold treat, you looked at his face. He was even better looking than you originally thought. Come to think of it, you might have never looked at him from up close. Suddenly, he turned to you. “What flavor are you getting?” Satoru asked curiously.

You looked at him and answered, “Lime with mint.” It was one of your favorite flavors.

“Lime with mint, huh?” he repeated and looked towards the sky as if you had just asked him a deeply philosophical question he needed to ponder about. “Not a bad choice. I’m getting mango. Can’t go wrong with that.” He paid for the ice cream, as promised, and guided both of you to a nearby bench so you could enjoy the treat. His eyes were positively gleaming with delight after he sat down. It was happiness that resembled yours whenever you got ice cream. “Why lime with mint?” Satoru wondered. With a shrug, you replied, “I just like lime. With mint in it, it’s more refreshing in summer. Have you ever tried?”

Satoru shook his head, so you allowed him to have a taste. You could pinpoint the exact moment when he realized that your statement was the truth: It was nice and refreshing indeed. He made a mental note that your ice cream taste was impeccable. “Any other flavor you enjoy?” he probed. It took a moment of thinking until you came up with something, “Matcha ice cream. I like mango too.”

“Good call. Mango is one of my favorites for sure,” he said as he took a bite of his scoop of ice cream.

“I’m wondering,” you said aloud, “why did you choose to ask me out as your reward? I expected… actually, I don’t know what I expected but it was definitely something else.”

The sorcerer pondered, thinking about how to phrase it. “Like what?” he asked. “I don’t know. Maybe kissing your ass, being your accomplice for pranks or something like that. That would be on-brand for you,” you joked. You would have never expected such a turn of events.

“That would have been an amazing idea, actually,” the guy mused. In retrospect, it would have been better if you hadn’t said anything to not fuel his dumb ideas. “You absolute jackass! Nobody wants to kiss your ass!”

Even though you should have expected such a reply coming from him, you couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit scandalized at the mental image of you kissing his rear. Gross. You shook your head to get rid of the imagery.

And yet, your curiosity hadn’t been quenched at all. As impatient as you were about his reply, you further probed him on the matter, “So… about my question…?”

As if to hide any embarrassing feelings, your opposite snickered. “Right… about that…” he cleared his throat, “I just kinda like our banter a lot… and you. So I figured that I should just shoot my shot. ‘What are they gonna say? No?’ was what I thought but see, a bet’s a bet! And I won!”

Oh. Oh.

Your eyes widened. So it was like that. 

Gojo Satoru? The Gojo Satoru? The conceited prick Satoru? Your crush Satoru? And you? Together? Never in a hundred years. But… it’s not like you had any right to complain about it, seeing as your heart was threatening to break out of its bony confinement.

“Hey, hey, hey. No need to look so surprised. I’ve been trying to get closer to you, didn’t you notice?” he asked, tilting his head to the left side, as if to get a better glimpse of your surprised expression.

“You thought being the most annoying prick to ever walk on Earth would do the trick?” Your jaw dropped. A strange expression of surprise flitted across your face for a split second. He shrugged his shoulders, “Well, it definitely worked—after all I got your undivided attention, didn’t I?”

Flabbergasted—that’s what you were. However, your composure quickly made a comeback and you could only laugh. A million-watt grin greeted you. Damn this man. He knew how to charm you, intentionally or not. “It sure did, you know! But not in the most positive light… Instead of calling me weak, you could have asked me what my favorite color is, what my favorite food is or something like that… Things normal people do!” you told him truthfully. Rather than arguing back, Satoru raised his free hand in defense, “I didn’t say you were weak, I just said you’re not on my level!”

You couldn’t help but raise your eyebrow and he quickly dropped the topic. Deciding to take your advice to heart, he asked you about your favorite cake and any ‘hidden gems and recommendations’, as he called them. The sudden change in topic threw you off a little, but as long as he tried, right? You were almost inclined to reward him with a good noodle star. Not that you’d do that. In place of that, you opted to go with the alternative: provide him with the information he asked for. So you thought about it carefully before answering him. He listened intently.

“I’ll keep those in mind. Making a mental list for the next time we hang out,” he grinned at you, tapping his temple. “You want to hang out again? I’m not boring you out of your mind yet?” you asked puzzledly, still in disbelief that he showed actual interest in you outside of work. “Why wouldn’t I want to?” He seemed slightly confused and raised a white eyebrow.

“Do you not want to?” He glanced at you with his bright, sparkling eyes. The notion of spending more time with you excited him. The enthusiasm was reflected in his cerulean eyes. When you thought about it, it only made sense, considering he had just confessed that he found you intriguing. “I just assumed you couldn’t stand me because I wasn’t as strong as you because you kept being mean to me,” you admitted somewhat shyly.

“I’m not that mean!” He said, acting shocked, though you noticed he was trying to hide a chuckle.

After a few seconds, Satoru sighed and clarified, “I can be a bit mean at times but I promise I never hated you or anything.” He smiled and you swore it was a smile that could threaten to make your knees a bit weak. Lucky for you that you were sitting on a bench. It was almost unfair how blessed he was with good looks. He continued, “I actually enjoy your company. You’re interesting and fun and I can tell you’re not afraid to bite back but you can be friendly if you want to. If anything, I like that a lot about you.”

A slight feeling of abashment prompted you to avoid his gaze. This was unusual. You weren’t used to him being so openly kind. “You know, I’d think I prefer you teasing me… without being straight up rude,” you confessed. His eyes widened briefly. Yet, a smirk soon returned to his face, “I see. You’re a masochist. Just kidding! I can definitely do that. It’ll be interesting to see how you react to me teasing you.”

Of course, you wouldn’t let that sit on you and you bit back, “Don’t expect me not to fight back, though.” And there it was, the slightly awkward atmosphere from earlier dissipated and everything returned to your usual banter.

Satoru clicked his tongue, “Trust me, I don’t expect you to be anyone but yourself. But I’m still looking forward to what you’ll do when I tease you, though.” He winked. “Not only are you an interesting person, but you’re fairly cute too.”

Who? You? “Huh?” you blurted out, baffled at the sudden compliment. With the way he was grinning at you, he had to be messing with you since he enjoyed seeing your reactions. “Did I say something wrong? I wasn’t lying. You’re adorable. Do you think you’re not?” Oh, he was definitely messing with you.

“Not really,” you shot back. You knew you weren’t ugly but hearing a compliment from someone as stunning as Satoru was something else. But cute and adorable…? That wasn’t exactly the best way to compliment someone you wanted to get attention from. If anything, it fueled something almost akin to spite within you. You felt the urge to tease him back.

“Come on, it was a genuine compliment from me. That’s gotta count for something, doesn’t it?” he pouted. You couldn’t detect any kind of indication that he was lying. “Thank you, you’re not so bad yourself,” you complimented him back. “Really?” he let out a gasp that was obviously fake, “I’m not so bad?”

You nodded, prompting the white-haired man to raise his eyebrow as he contemplated. “You’re right, I’m not bad,” he nodded in agreement with you. 

“I am great,” he said, a smirk forming on his face.

You chuckled, “You know. I think if it wasn’t for your foul personality, I would have fallen for you long ago.”

“Foul personality?” Satoru gasped as he brought a hand to his chest to grab it. “Maybe you’re just as mean as I am!” A laugh escaped from your throat and it was like music to his ears. “I never said I was nice, did I?” you fired back at him and he couldn’t help but grin. “See? I think I like you more when you're sassy. Maybe we're not as different as you thought,” he spoke. After a moment, he added, “I wouldn't mind if you treated me like this all the time. I could even get used to it.”

“So the great Gojo Satoru likes being degraded, I see. Noted,” you teased him again. One of his hands moved to his mouth to cover it, pretending to be horrified. He leaned forward and you could see a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I don’t think ‘degradation’ is the right term here; I just enjoy teasing you and... being teased by you. Is that so bad?” he asked. “Then,” you began and stood up, the ice cream was long finished. You placed your index finger beneath his chin, moving it up so he was facing you as you got closer to his face. He could feel your breath. “Do you like this?” you asked. Your goal was to get back at him for flustering you earlier. So why was your heart beating so fast?

“I think I do,” he simply said. His pale blue eyes seemed to peer at you, piercing you, as if looking for an answer to a question that had been left unasked. Despite being in a sitting position, he still radiated a confident aura. Suddenly the closeness you had created between the two of you was too much for you. Your body backed away automatically but you found yourself unable to move any farther from him—he didn’t let you. Instead, he reduced the gap between the two of you even more, slowly coming closer to you.

His fingers had already sneakily encircled your left forearm without you noticing. Mesmerizing eyes robbed you of your ability to move. You didn’t notice you held your breath until you needed to inhale sharply. Who was teasing who now? Caught like a deer in headlights, adrenaline rushed through your veins as anticipation clouded your mind. That was the moment you realized that you were into him more than you’d like to admit. You swore you could hear your heartbeat pounding loudly in your ears. The tension became too much and the ringing in your ears amplified and—

And then he closed the gap between you. Your brain blacked out. All you could think about was his lips on yours. Saying that you didn’t like his lips melting into yours was a lie. Satoru was leaving a sweet hint of his mango-flavored ice cream for you to taste, as if to claim you as his.

After a few seconds, Satoru broke the kiss. The shit-eating grin on his face was telling. “I think I liked this more though. You should let me do that more often. Maybe every day,” he winked at you. He looked at your frozen expression and chuckled; he genuinely had fun flirting with you. Still dazed from the kiss, your brain was unable to conjure any thoughts. All you knew was that you wanted—no, it was a need to kiss him again. As if your body would be set ablaze if you didn’t listen to your desire, your lips chased his and you kissed him again.

Satoru blinked. He was a bit taken aback at first but quickly returned the kiss, closing his eyes. After all, he had just boldly said that he wanted to do it more often. When you broke the kiss, he leaned forward before speaking. You noticed that the tip of his ears were a little red. It was a cute detail that you wouldn’t have noticed from afar.

“Damn, you’re a really good kisser,” the sorcerer said in a low voice, smiling at you. “Can I try again?” he asked, the smile still adorning his face. “All good things come in threes, I suppose,” you smiled back at him and leaned in again. Who would have thought that you would kiss this guy?

Without hesitation, the sitting Satoru pulled you into his lap and he kissed you again, heart beating faster with each passing second. After a few moments, he pulled away.

“Yeah, three sounds like a good number… but I prefer Infinity,” he said breathlessly. His cheeks were slightly flushed, a sign that he was enjoying himself. The white-haired adolescent reached up and pulled a stray strand of hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear. He playfully added, “We should do this more often. Don't you agree?”

“Now you’re just being greedy!” you joked as you hit his chest playfully. It was only now that you noticed that his Limitless technique wasn’t in effect. “Greedy? Who? Me? Never!” he gasped again, pretending to be hurt over your accusation. “You hit me pretty hard there. I could have gotten hurt…” He glanced at the hand you used to hit him, “Do you want me to hit you too? Or maybe I should ask for damage compensation?”

You could tell he wasn’t serious by the way he smiled. “If you go on and hit me with your lips, then sure. Alternatively, I can offer lip service as compensation. Choose your poison, choose your hell.”

For a moment, he looked at you with mock horror. Then, he broke out in laughter at your statement. “Actually, that first one sounds like a good idea. I’ll go ahead and hit you with my lips then. But gently. Because I’m a gentleman.” He tenderly placed his two hands at the side of your face and slowly pulled you closer to him. Tilting his head slightly, he leaned in until your lips met. It was very gentle and your heart was filled with excitement, with exhilaration, as he kissed you. As your hands gripped his uniform tightly, you slowly lost yourself in the kiss, getting drunk on his lips. Maybe you should curse him for being a good kisser.

Satoru ended the kiss with a peck on the corner of your mouth and looked at you with a soft gaze, the softest you had ever seen on him. The dazed look on your face made him laugh again, “Don’t get too drunk on my kisses.” Stroking your cheeks with his long fingers, he laughed once again when he saw your pouting face, “You’re adorable, you know that?”

“Correct me if I’m wrong but you’re not entirely unaffected by kissing me,” you stated as-a-matter-of-factly and raised an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms. Being called out like this was embarrassing but it was pretty clear that you weren’t the only one affected with how the tips of his ears became slightly redder with each time you touched lips.

His lips formed a smile, “They’re addictive, if I’m being honest. I don’t… I don’t want to stop kissing you. I could do this all day, every day.” 

“If kissing me is addictive, then I think I’m doing a great job at affecting you,” you chuckled. The way your mouth moved as you spoke and the way the corners moved upwards to form a cheeky smile; he couldn’t take his eyes off. His heart thumped loudly in his chest, his thumb moved along the corner of your mouth. He couldn’t stop staring, the urge to lay his lips on yours once more strong. “You’re fun to be around. I like you, a lot. I’m enjoying how I feel when I’m close to you. I love whatever effect you have on me,” he spoke clearly.

He was fixated, enchanted, spell-bound even. “Is… Is this a confession?” you asked, hopeful eyes peering up at his. You took notice of the entranced look on his face. He blurted out, “I think I already fell for you a while ago.” As he realized what he had done, his eyes widened in shock and he wanted to slap his palms on his mouth, but he didn’t because that meant letting go of you. This time, it wasn’t fake shock but he genuinely didn’t think he’d blurt it out like that. But it was okay, because you liked him too. What was the use of pretending you didn’t?

“I think that makes two of us then,” as you admitted it, you felt your ears blazing with heat. “I’m saying that I like you too.” 

It took him a moment to process in his brain. Despite being academically clever and praised for his intelligence and wit in battles, you found it took him rather long to work out the meaning behind your words. “I knew you liked me, despite your sass.” No need to hide it now that he’d taken a look inside your heart. “We’re a dangerous duo,” the sorcerer noted, amused by his realization. You agreed with him, “Just two flirty kids who give trouble a run for its money.”

“Hey,” he suddenly began after a few moments, “Have you ever dated someone before? Are there any current or ex boyfriends I need to be worried about?” Satoru’s voice came out softly and he looked at you, awaiting an answer that would please him… because if not… he felt his heart drop at the thought. You wouldn’t… right?

Uncertainty clouded his mind as he looked at your face. “I have dated someone before but it didn’t work out. I’m not seeing anyone at the moment,” you clarified and wagged your index finger at him. “And honestly, even if there was… I think you’d do a great job at keeping them away,” you added.

And then, relief washed over him. With hindsight, he should have asked that before kissing you—a small part inside him admonished him for it but his heart couldn’t help but leap at your words. Quickly recomposing himself, he grinned back at you, “I bet with all the sass, sarcasm and cheekiness you’ve got, you can keep them away just as easily by yourself.”

Obviously, you had a comeback up your sleeve, “I never said I couldn’t. But you’d do a decent job at it. Because anyone would be scared of a tall white-haired dude who is full of himself.”

A hearty laugh came out of his throat; he expected nothing less from you. You were good at getting back at him in the most entertaining and beautiful ways. There was no doubt that you were able to handle his ‘foul’ personality well. “So we’re both good at keeping guys away from us, huh? You really do think I’m full of myself, don’t you? So why didn’t you reject me before?” he questioned. “Judging from what happened earlier… I might not be that good at keeping guys like you away from me. I wasn’t born with your technique after all. And I’m not sure if I want to keep away a guy named Gojo Satoru from me,” you grin at him and pinch his cheek gently.

“I’m flattered,” he fake-sniffed and then he leaned even closer, “So did I hear that correctly? You don’t want to keep a tall, almighty and handsome guy like me away from you? Hm?”

“No, I don’t want to keep you away from me. But I think if we dated, we’d be dangerous to other people. Our superiors wouldn’t approve of it, I am sure,” you mused. It was logical but Satoru gave you a bizarre look, “And you care about what some old farts have to say? Strange thing to be worried about when you’re someone who usually fires back right away.”

“I was just saying. I don’t care about what they think; I like playing dangerously. Wouldn’t be in this line of work if that wasn’t the case,” the words coming out of your mouth made him feel delighted. The smug look on your face only added to it.

“That makes us a dangerous duo, huh? The perfect pair to take down curses and cause trouble, I kinda like that,” he clicked his tongue as he finished speaking. The thought of the two of you wreaking havoc was fun and thrilling, admittedly. Principal Yaga was sure to get white hair at this rate—not that Satoru cared too much about it, as long as the old man didn’t die of shock or cardiac arrest.

“You bet,” you shot him a cheeky smile. “Then it’s settled, wouldn’t you say? You and I are an amazing partner match, sweetheart. Just a danger to society,” Satoru established.

“That’s sort of ironic, considering that our job is to protect society as it is,” you remarked. And yet, it didn’t matter to you at all. All you felt at the moment was the pleasantness of the world, of Gojo Satoru’s presence and coming clean with your feelings.

“Hey, since you brought it up already… I’m going to assume that you’re fine with dating me…?” He briefly looked at the ground, then back at you. The little bit of uncertainty in his tone was almost cute to you. For the first time, the usually cocky and confident platinum—haired sorcerer wasn’t so sure about his words in front of you. Seeing him like this wasn’t so bad, you noticed.

You got on your tiptoes to gently place a peck on his cheek. Your actions were contradictory to your following question: “What makes you think you’re worthy of being my boyfriend?”

You were only teasing him, hoping that your sweet kiss was answer enough. Part of you hoped that he got the playful tone in your voice. But when he glanced down at you as you struggled to reach his lips on your tiptoes, a wide grin spread across his face as you leaned in and kissed him. His heart raced as he snaked his two arms around your waist to steady you.

With an eye smile so boyish that it made you blink once, twice, Satoru was quick to respond, “Opposite day already passed, you brat. I think it’s only fair to deduce that if I’m worthy of your kiss, I’m most likely good enough to be your boyfriend.”

“Hmmm, you think so?” you grin mischievously at him and slung your arms around his neck. Your goal was to rile him up a little, it was in your nature to be a little annoying about it.

“I’d say a kiss is a good sign, sugar,” he retorted with a sassy tone in his voice. He tightened his arms around your waist, effectively hugging you closer to him. There was no escape for you—not that you wanted to flee from him anyways. On the contrary: You rested your head on his shoulder.

“Then I think it’s in order that my official boyfriend kisses me now and goes on a date with me,” you murmured into his ear. A slight movement indicated that he was reacting to your whisper. He gulped and swiftly got his cool back. “That can be arranged,” Satoru smiled as he moved his hands to the sides of your face and closed the gap once more. After separating from your lips, his arms moved back to their original spot.

He snickered to himself, “I can’t believe you’re so cheeky and smooth.”

You stuck your tongue out at him—and to him, you looked so adorable doing it. “Being a menace who is cheeky and smooth is my forte,” you claimed brazenly. “How does it feel to be my boyfriend?”

“Being handsome and strong is part of my job as the notorious kid from the Gojo clan. But being your official boyfriend was not in the job description when I signed up to be a sorcerer. I’ll take my incentive bonus payment in the form of love and affection from you,” he joked and nuzzled your nose. Satoru’s warm hands found yours and he didn’t hesitate to intertwine your fingers.

“Then I guess our first date will be a salary negotiation,” you laughed back at him. This was the start of something beautiful, but also the start of double trouble for some poor souls. Not that any of you cared anyway.

White tufts of hair and round sunglasses would accompany you more frequently from now on.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojou x reader #satoru gojo x reader

[tieronecrush]

part of me, apart from me

rating: E (18+ only, MDNI)

word count: 14k....its a whole thing okay?

summary:

kindly requested from a lovely anon "You and Javi had one kid together when you were very young, maybe you broke up due to his work schedule. You reunite at their college graduation 👀"

javier & you had daughter right after he graduated college, you with a couple years left yourself. when she was 15, he got the call to head to colombia, deciding with you to pursue his career and leave the two of you in the safety of laredo. seven years later, your daughter is graduating from college and javier is back home for good after cali, forcing himself to face what he finds are his failures, and hold out hope that you still feel the same as he does.

warnings (SPOILERS): BIG self doubt, self deprecation, heavy guilt, separated relationship, co-parenting, javier being in unrequited love, chucho being a king and a great grandfather & father, strained familial relationships on mother's side, discussions of death/violence/drugs, smoking, alcohol use, mentions of food/eating, use of spanish, javi has total DAD moments, he is a DILF ofc, dirty talk, oral sex (f & m (briefly) receiving), unprotected sex, unplanned pregnancy, becomes established relationship, etc.

a/n: i don't think the anon who requested this realized what it would do to my brain, but i have created a whole universe for this fic. i am in love with their little family and they will live forever in my head and heart. a huge thank you to my bestie el @northernbluess for screaming about javi, this fic, giving me the title for this, and beta-reading this long ass fic for me. love you friend!!!! hope you all enjoy, and that you love them as much as i do!

The engine of Javier’s truck cuts as he turns the ignition, the loud rumble of its mechanics quieting to reveal the sounds of birds chirping. For Texas in May, it’s a pretty mild day, sunlight shining bright against the blue sky. There’s a handful of wispy clouds above him as he opens the door and steps down from the cab, shutting it with a metallic click. He rolls his shoulders and swings his arms to loosen up, the sweat at the nape of his neck is from his nerves more than the temperature.

It’s been two years since he has seen his daughter, Liliana, in person. He’d come back from Colombia after everything that went down with the Cali cartel and the government only a mere 48 hours ago. He’s exhausted, but he made the drive from Laredo to College Station to see his princesa, the light of his life for the last twenty-two years, graduate from college. Specifically, his alma mater, Texas A&M University.

He has been counting down the days until he was back for this occasion, after repeatedly reminding everyone in the embassy that he would be out of the country. It just so happens that he doesn’t need to return to Colombia as he had originally planned.

A deep inhale and slow exhale attempt to calm the jitters that are trembling his fingers.

Fuck, he really wants a cigarette.

But Lili would kill him if he showed up smelling like burnt tobacco when he had promised a week ago he was on the Nicorette thing.

Instead, he shakes his head to himself and hooks his sunglasses in the open chest of his light blue short-sleeve button-up. Out of habit, he reaches to his lower back to feel for his pistol, his touch brushing denim.

Another inhale, slow exhale.

He can do this.

It’s you and his daughter. Two people that he loves. Two people he’s been working for.

Maybe that’s why he’s so fucking nervous.

How can you welcome him back every time he makes a visit? How can his daughter be excited to talk to him every week from across the equator? He’s been gone for years. Most of her teenage life, and nearly all of her college career. He’s only been back once since she moved to university. Once.

What a fucking asshole.

Certainly not a good father.

His boots tick against the pavement of the front path up to the dingy, weather-worn two-story house. He remembers getting photographs of Liliana in front of this house a couple of years ago, sent from you and stuffed in an envelope along with photos retelling her entire summer. That one of her standing proudly in front of this house hung on his fridge until he packed it up two days ago.

Every day he looked at it, he wished nothing more than to have been like one of her friends’ dads that helped with moving in and fixing up the house, maybe slipping her a hundred dollar bill to spend on groceries or alcohol on his way out to the car after saying goodbye.

Instead, he was stuck in Colombia under the thumb of the U.S. government and sleazy CIA agents that were controlling him like a puppet.

He’s here now, though. And he’s trying so hard to get over the tightness in his chest, to clear the lump in his throat, and to dry his sweaty palms when he gets up the creaky wooden steps and up to the front door. His middle finger presses the doorbell aggressively, taking a step back and shaking out his shoulders again.

Gaze focused on his shoes, he looked up as he heard the door unlock. A wide, genuine grin breaks out on his face when he sees Liliana in the threshold, that same smile copied and pasted onto hers, even down to the dimple on his right cheek.

“Tata (Dad)! You’re here!” she exclaims, jumping out of the door and hooking her arms around his neck. He laughs as he catches her, one arm wrapping around her waist and his other hand reaching up to hold the back of her head. He pets her long, brunette hair, squeezing her in a tight hug against his chest.

“Oh, Lili Pad. Missed you so much, mija.” He kisses the side of her head before loosening his hold on her, taking in the sight of his daughter after seeing her only through photographs for years.

“Tata, I’m graduating college tomorrow. Not little Lili Pad anymore.”

Her eye roll gives Javier’s attitude a run for its money.

Damn, she really got a lot from his gene pool.

The same deep brown eyes with hints of amber, softened and round give away their every emotion. The same mouth that finds a perfect pout, combined with those eyes he was always pushed over when she was younger. Anything she wanted, he would give to her. Even now.

She has your nose, though. Your ears. Your feminine facial structure. Your charming, warm personality.

“You’re always gonna be Lili Pad, amorcita. Always gonna be my babygirl,” he presses another kiss to her temple, unraveling her from him, “But you have grown into such a beautiful woman, Lili. You remind me of your mamá when she was your age.”

“There’s that Peña charm.”

He looks over his daughter’s shoulder and sees you leaning against the banister, arms crossed over your chest with a smirk playing at your lips. His heart rate increases to double speed, his now dry hands clamming up again as he drinks you in from head to toe.

Years away and he is still so fucking in love with you.

Another reason to curse his time in Colombia.

It was a mutual decision, to split up before he left. There was no timeline for how long he would be gone or when he could come back that first time he went down there.

And there was no way in hell he was putting the two most important people in his life in the middle of what was basically a fucking warzone.

So, that was that. Co-parents, and close friends.

And an agonizing ache every time he saw you since he left.

He grins right back at you, Lili waving him inside after her. Crossing the entryway to you, he opens his arms with a quirk of his brows.

Your smirk reaches its full stretch, shifting into a gracious smile as you drop your arms and step into his, snaking your hands around to his back. He holds you tightly, a shorter embrace than the one with Liliana but long enough for your signature scent to pull him back to being a young, dumb college student who was madly in love. A chaste kiss is pressed to your cheek before he pulls away.

“I’m pretty sure she gets that from you, amor. I don’t recall a time when you weren’t able to get what you wanted — everyone you meet thinks you’re a delight.”

“See? More charm. Laying it on a little thick, Jav,” you tease, hitting your fist against his bicep gently.

He glances at your arm when you lower it back to your side, catching the glint of the bracelet with Liliana’s initials in gold charms that is always on your wrist. He gave it to you after she was born, once she was taken home from the hospital and the two of you were standing over her crib watching her sleep. Ever since then, he’s never seen you without it.

“Alright, alright. Enough of the weird, complimentary back-and-forth you guys do. Do you wanna see the place before I move out, viejo?” Lili cuts in and Javi’s eyes leave your wrist to look at her with a smile.

“Ay, no soy viejo, princesa (Ay, I am not old, princess). Now lead the way and no more making fun of me,” he nods for her to walk ahead of him, taking a few steps and glancing back at you, “You not coming on the tour, amor?”

You shake your head and give Liliana a look that says ‘Care to explain?’. Being on the receiving end of that look many times, he knows it a bit too well coming from you.

“Mom is being amazing and helpful and wonderful like Mom always is and is packing my closet for me.” Lili cringes as she admits it to her father, Javier shaking his head and letting out a long exhale.

“Liliana, you have known you’re moving for months and you’ve waited until the day before graduation to pack? Dios, somos demasiado parecidos (God, we are too much alike),” he nods for her to continue walking as you laugh behind him, the sound traveling as you walk upstairs and bringing a faint smile to his lips as he follows his daughter.

He hovers around Lili’s room as you pace from her closet to the cases laid out on the floor, organizing everything and folding as you walk back and forth. Your daughter is downstairs, tasked with packing up her items from the kitchen and the living room. Javi’s been given the whole tour, now dropped off to “catch up with Mom”, as Lili put it.

Across the surfaces and walls, he spies the little gifts he’s sent her over his years away: all of the birthday cards he’s hand-picked and written letters in stacked in a box on her desk, the mola depicting lilies framed and hanging on her wall, the brightly colored Wayuu mochila that he’d bought from one of the open air markets in Bogotá hanging off of the door knob to her closet.

There’s a sharp pain in his chest when he sees the small picture frames sitting on her nightstand. He sits on the edge of her bed and picks them up one by one to study them. The first is a photo of you and Lili, smiling from ear to ear. He recognizes the photo as one he took on his visit before last, the one he made before Lili went to college. The pair of you are standing in the middle of an overgrown field on the Peña ranch, sun setting in the background. Lili insisted on watching the sunset all together on Javi’s last night at home, and he snuck the camera out with the three of you.

He has a copy of the photo right next to his bed, too.

Setting the frame down delicately, he picks up the next one, this one of Lili and him alone. It’s from years ago, the wide smile on Lili’s face showing off her missing front tooth. Javi grins back at his little girl in the photo, his eyes combing over to the younger version of him, way back when he was a sheriff in Laredo. It must have been during the holidays — there’s a shiny plastic red gift bow on his chest and Lili is wearing a knit sweater with a snowman on it.

Where did all the time go?

The last photograph grows the lump in his throat and the ache in between his ribs. It’s a photo of the three of you, one from his most recent visit a couple of years ago. Dressed up for a Dean’s Award ceremony that Liliana was nominated for. She looks like the spitting image of you, and you are absolutely glowing with pride for her. You two are so beautiful. He looks exhausted, anxiety in his eyes that never seems to have left since his first year in the DEA. It was around the time when he thought he was going to be able to stay, to be around for Lili and for you. He told you what happened in Colombia that got him sent home; you understood, of course, you understood why he did it all. And he admitted it all with the faintest smile on his face, the thought of getting to settle was appealing more and more to him.

And then he got the call.

He battled with the decision.

He talked to you about it.

You said, “We’re always gonna be here, Jav. You need to go. What’s a few more years?”

Everything. A few more years was everything.

He missed so much.

“You okay, Jav?”

He looks up from the photo in his hands, eyes focusing back on the room instead of a million miles ahead. You are kneeling next to one of the suitcases, carefully placing some of your daughter’s clothes in neatly. Those eyes you’re giving him turn his brain to mush, all of the escalating thoughts dripping away.

“Yeah, yeah, all good. Reminiscing,” he nods to himself as he turns the photo for you to see before setting it back down, pulling a grin onto his face, “Do you remember when the three of us would all go out to dinner or meet up with my tíos and tías when Lili was a baby? And they would always ask us when we were getting married?”

A gentle laugh comes from you as you think back, knowing how many times you got asked the same question over and over again.

“Yes, I definitely remember that. I also remember you getting so annoyed one day that you just—”

“Lied and said that we got married at the courthouse?”

“Yes! I got such an onslaught of questions after you said that. That news, which wasn’t even news, spread like wildfire throughout your family.”

“Well, at least it got people off our backs, esposa,” he winks, grin lifting to one side to meld into a smirk.

You roll your eyes dramatically, the wide smile peeling your lips apart making Javi’s heart race faster.

“You want some help, amor? Feel like an imbécil not doing anything,” he slaps his hands on his knees as he stands from Lili’s bed, taking the handful of steps that separate you. One knee is bent to bring him down to the ground, huffing out a sigh as he gets fully onto his knees.

“Sure you’re gonna be able to get up from the floor, viejo?” You raise an eyebrow at him as you continue to put rolled clothes into the luggage. Javier rolls his eyes, shaking his head.

“I think I can handle getting up from the ground, bromista. Been jumping off of roofs and trekking through fucking jungles for seven years.” He doesn’t wait for your response, grabbing one of the unfolded shirts from next to you and attempting to fold it as neatly as you’ve done with the rest of them.

“Alright, alright. I believe you. How about I roll, you organize what I hand you into the suitcase? Sounds good?” You hold a hand out for the shirt in his hand, a small laugh as he resigns his attempt and passes the fabric over.

“Sí, jefa (Yes, boss),” a soft grin pulls one side of his mouth up, deepening the dimple on his right cheek. You look at him with your own tender smile when you hand him a rolled pair of jeans to put away, reaching your hand up to poke the little crevice in his cheek like you always do — like you always did.

The two of you work quietly for a few minutes, falling into a rhythm. Liliana makes noise from downstairs, cabinets open and closing, sounds of bubble wrap being ripped echoing throughout the house.

“How’re you doin’, Jav?”

The question strikes him, slumping his shoulders and training his gaze on the shirt in his hands as he rubs his index and thumb over the softened cotton.

It’s a simple enough question; he expected you to ask when you first saw him. In a greeting, he thought it would be easy to brush it off, tell you ‘Estoy bien’ or that he was happy to be home.

But right now, packing up his daughter’s clothes to move her out of college and back into your home — the day before his little girl’s graduation — it feels too difficult to lie.

Sitting alone here with you, the mother of his daughter, the beauty that gave him his greatest gift, the woman — the strong, commanding, warm, gentle woman that he is still so incredibly in love with — is drawing the truth out of him before he can fully catch up with what he’s admitting.

“Feeling like a real pendejo. I missed so much. Too much, amor. I’m sorry.”

“Jav. You are here now. You always show up when she needs her Tata. Even if it’s not physically, you show up for her every day. No more of that talk this weekend, do you hear me? You’re here. That’s it. Not missing anything.”

How do you always know what to say to him?

How did he ever walk away from you?

Javier nods his head, pressing his lips into a tight line as his fingers twitch for nicotine. He would kill for that slow drag of smoke filling his lungs, relaxing his racing mind and heart with a break that lasts as long as the burning paper and tobacco.

Instead, he stands on his knees, grabbing the plastic pack out of his pocket and popping out a chiclet of gum, tossing it into his mouth, and chewing furiously. The look on your face is observational, a twitch of your lips into the faintest grin calms him nearly as much as a cigarette would.

He sits back on his haunches, one of his hands reaching to touch you, faltering when your head turns down to fold the item of clothing in your hands.

“Te quiero, esposa,” his hand grazes his fingertips along the denim covering his thighs, twitching to move the hair curtaining your face, “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, Jav,” your head shakes back and forth subtly, eyes lifting from your lap and softening as you smile at him, “Love you, too.”

“Jesús Cristo, Liliana, you have a lot of shit. I went to college with a suitcase and a duffle bag — and left four years later with just the duffle bag,” Javier shakes his head as he carries the last piece of luggage downstairs to the living room where the rest of her packed belongings are accumulating to pack up in your three cars the day after her graduation.

“God, Jav, you sound like my father. ‘I walked twelve miles to school with rocks in my backpack and in a foot of snow’,” you drop your voice to mock him, laughing with your daughter as she walks in from the kitchen and stands next to you, “Getting to be an old man, Peña.”

“Mamá is right, Tata. You’re the youngest dad out of all my friends and you sound the oldest right now,” Lili says through a wide smile, and you laugh with her now, sending Javier a brightly teasing grin.

He grumbles and rolls his eyes, waving a hand at both of you dismissively.

“Yeah, yeah. Enough from you two bromistas. Y’know, I didn’t miss you two ganging up on me — it was one thing through the phone, but in person is just too much.”

Your tongue clicks and you walk over to him, pinching his cheek as you pass by him, “Aw, Jav, it’s all love. You’re just easy to rile up, makes it fun.”

You wink at him with your back to Liliana, slipping out of the room to grab more of her boxes from the kitchen. At your touch and the minuscule flirtation, his heart rate thumps louder in his ears. His eyes follow you out of the room, snapping back when Liliana asks him a question. He shakes himself out of the trance, looking over to his daughter and stepping over to where she’s stood in front of an open box.

“Qué pasa, mija? (What’s up, my daughter?)” Javier reaches an arm up and wraps it around her shoulders, holding her against his side as he presses a kiss to her head. His eyes drop to what’s held in front of her, a chill running down his spine when he sees a photo of Escobar across the front page of the newspaper, the headline reading ‘ESCOBAR KILLED IN MEDELLÍN’.

“Do you want this copy, Tata? I kept two of them, but I think the other one is already packed away and I don’t know if I need both anymore really. Kept one to show my professors all about you,” Lili turns her head and looks up at him.

Javier shakes his head, a tight smile facing his daughter before he drops his arm from her shoulders.

“No, no thanks, mija. No need to keep the other one either. I wasn’t even there for that, amorcita. I think I was actually about to come over to Mamá’s house to see you when I got the call,” he tasks his antsy hands with sealing a cardboard box with packing tape, “May as well toss them out. Or send them to Mr. Murphy if you want them to be kept safe.”

“I don’t want to get rid of the other one. I want to keep it. Even if you weren’t there for it, you still did so much work to get to that point, Tata. I mean, you doing all of that in Colombia is what made me want to do criminal psychology,” she carefully slips the newspaper into one of the open boxes, closing it up and holding her hand out for the tape roll.

“Mi princesa, you—“

“I know, Tata. I promise I am not going to be running on rooftops or caught in the middle of shootouts with the DEA. No fighting cartels, viejo. I just want to work with profiling and behind-the-scenes stuff.” She takes the tape, closing up the box completely as Javier’s heart cinches in his chest.

He is so incredibly proud of his Lili Pad, but he can’t deny how angry he got when Liliana chose her major finally — of course, it had to be criminology. She explained she was drawn to it because of his work, but assured that she is not interested in doing the same thing he has done for years. Behind the scenes, possibly going into forensic psychology or helping to profile criminals. Office jobs, for the most part. But he couldn’t shake that anger inside for months; never been angry with his daughter, and he knew she was as headstrong as him and would achieve what she wanted. He was angry with himself, for even planting any sort of seed, even unknowingly, for Lili to get into this type of work. He knows that eventually her end of the promise might not be kept — he knows her, how easily excitable she can get with new opportunities. She’ll likely end up climbing ranks or even getting into some agency like the FBI or something.

The thought of her out there, in a tac vest or with a weapon, makes bile burn his esophagus.

“Alright, I think we’re done here for today. Better go check into the hotel and we can get ready quick, then we can swing by and pick you up for dinner, Lili.” Your voice pulls him out of his spiral, stare focusing back into the room and glancing over at you in the doorway from the kitchen.

“Sí, jefa. Sounds like a plan,” he pats the pockets of his jeans and feels for his truck keys, “You gonna be ready if we come in an hour, princesa?”

Lili rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest and popping her hip out, a stance all too familiar to Javier.

“Sí, Tata. Besides, I’m not the one you should be asking that to. Mom is always the one who takes longer to get ready.”

Javier laughs when you walk over to your daughter, pinching her side playfully. He shakes his head and gives Liliana a knowing look.

“Mija, I have known that fact about your mamá for longer than you’ve been alive. I’m guessing it will be an hour and a half until we’re back, but wanted to make sure you were actually ready. An hour to you women is at least an hour and fifteen to the rest of the world.”

Javier smiles with a loud laugh as both you and Lili approach him and swat his arms, pinching his sides without causing any pain whatsoever. There were protests on either side of him, his daughter and her mother annoyed with the judgments on their time management but all three of them knew he was right.

“Alright, alright, I apologize…” he surrenders from the assault with his hands up, taking deep breaths as he recovers from his laughter before continuing with a smirk, “But we all know I’m right!”

Javier makes a quick exit out of the room and through the front door before any other hits or pinches can be given to him, hearing the stifled laughter from you and Lili from inside the house.

“Yeah, you better run, Jav!” you call out as you gather your purse and fish out your car keys, saying a quick goodbye to Lili and following his path out of the house, “Now I’m gonna be ready in an hour just to prove you wrong.”

“That would only make me overjoyed. Maybe we could make our reservation in time then,” he waves goodbye to Liliana before turning to continue down the front path of her house, to his truck parked in front of your small SUV.

“You wanna follow me over there?” he asks as he unlocks the driver’s side door, watching you open yours and nod to him.

“Yeah, sounds good to me. Don’t be driving like a bat out of hell, though, Javier.”

“Hey, I can’t make any promises. Used to driving all around Colombian cities, it’s a lot different on those roads,” he jokes before making sure you get into your car, hopping into the truck, and listening to the engine turn over before he leads you both over to your accommodations for the rest of the weekend.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Peña. We would normally be absolutely willing to find a solution for you, but we’re fully booked for the graduation weekend. We only have one room for you.” The front desk receptionist looks terrified of Javier at this moment, his glare that he has perfected, normally reserved for serious criminals or dirty agents, is aimed directly at the young college student working here.

When the two of you were trying to check in, they had been informed that the reservation Javier had made for the two of you, two standard rooms, had been double booked, resulting in the parties involved only getting delegated one room each. 

His jaw notched to the side, hands gripping the edge of the front counter with his arms wide and head dipping down in annoyance. He picks it up, addressing the hotel employee again.

“I made a reservation months ago. I called from fucking Colombia — I paid about forty dollars wasting twenty minutes on the phone with whoever was working that day just to get this booked—”

“Jav,” your hand finds his chest as his eyes find yours, the rapid heartbeat thumping in his chest definitely not slowing down at what was supposed to be your soothing touch, “It’s fine. We can survive with one room for two nights. It’s either taking this or sleeping on the floor at Lili’s.”

Holding your gaze, he can see the words unsaid in the look you’re giving him.

Shut up and take the room key.

And there’s no way he is continuing to argue with the kid in front of him as he squirms under your own stern stare. With a grumble, he straightens up, your hand leaving his chest and cool, conditioned air chilling the spot that was covered in your warmth. The rest of the check-in process is painless, with Javier paying for the stay and taking the room keys. He turns around to face you, handing you one of the access cards and nodding toward the elevators.

“Let me take that, amor.” He leans down and grabs both duffles from the floor, one his and one yours, following your lead over to the elevators. The two of you stand and wait for the doors to open, the familiar ding alerting them to which one will be taking them up to their floor. When the doors slide apart, a large group of people started to spill out into the lobby. You step back to avoid a collision with a man not watching where he is walking, and Javier’s hand immediately finds your lower back to steady you. It lingers as the rush of people clears out — he makes no move to take it away until he guides you into the small square space, dropping his touch to press the button for your floor.

Once the two of you make it into the room, he sets your bags down on the desk and dresser, walking over to the thermostat to turn it down for you without a second thought.

“You remember,” you observe with a grin, rifling through your bag to find your toiletries and a change of clothes for dinner.

“Course I do, always had to have the air blasting in our apartment or the house. You never could sleep without a massive blanket and your toes under my legs. Never did understand your need to be freezing, always,” he chuckles at the memories of every night with you, until the separation when he was assigned to Bogotá.

“I dunno why either, just was always the most comfortable. Felt cozier, plus it always gave an excuse to cuddle.” Your giggle sends a tingle from his ears down the back of his neck and across his shoulders, a shudder easily blamed on the intense fans of the air-con.

“Go ahead and take the first shower, esposa. I’ll wait so that you can have more time to get ready and all that,” Javier crosses the room, saddling up next to you to rummage through his own weekender bag. In his periphery, he can see you flash a smile as you gather your things in one arm, using the free hand to brush across his shoulder blades when you walk behind him.

“Very kind, Jav. I’ll be quick, I promise.”

You stand in the doorway of the bathroom and he picks his head up, turning it to look at you. Head to toe, he scans you quickly before settling on your face, shaking his head.

“Take your time, amor. We both know I can be ready in ten minutes if I need to be,” he sends you a wink and half a smirk appears when you laugh, shutting the door behind you.

He hears the water run, kicking off his boots and sitting at the edge of the bed with an extensive sigh. Rubbing his eyes of exhaustion, he’s still for a moment. Shoulders drop, limbs feeling heavy as the day catches up with him. Moving, packing, even fighting with himself has drained him over the course of the day.

He loved spending time with his Liliana again, seeing her eager to walk the stage tomorrow and collect her diploma. And being around you again, drudging up all of the feelings and desires and words that he has tamped down for the last seven years. But it all comes with reminders of how absent he was, thousands of miles away, how undeserving he is of being welcomed back into the arms of you two, how his daughter was so proud, idolized him so much that she chose to study a major that puts her in the same field of work. He deserves distance from her, a cold shoulder from you — aloofness of some sort for the choice he made.

At least that’s what he’s told himself over and over for nearly the last decade. No matter how much you or Lili continually proved those thoughts wrong, they always came back.

He glances at his watch before standing and moving toward the bag again, hearing the water shut off and moving to grab his toiletries. Taking out the leather Dopp kit jostles something else in the bag loose, flinging it out onto the floor. Bending down with a sigh to retrieve it, he’s faced with the metal badge emblazoned with the DEA seal and ‘USA’ carved into it. It must have been in the bag from his plane ride earlier this week, and it serves as a blatant reminder of what he needs to talk to you about on this trip. What he needs to tell Liliana, too.

The badge gets thrown back into the bag and he walks toward the open bathroom door, stopping short within the threshold. You’re standing at the counter, products splayed around you to do your makeup. Even after living with you for 15 years, he barely has a clue what any of it does besides lipstick and mascara. He’d spent many mornings and evenings listening to you explaining your routine, but never quite getting down all the product names. There’s a pang in his chest, felt deep in the bones of his rib cage; the sight gives him major deja vu, nostalgia wavering over him. Even his subconscious longs for a time when you were his.

A humorous smile reflects back at him with your eyes glued to his in the mirror. Your fingers tap a rogue-colored product across your cheeks, giving you a bit of a brighter, subtly flushed look.

“Sorry, Jav, promise I’ll be out of here in like five minutes. I am trying to be quick.”

“Cálmate, amor. No hay prisa.There’s no rush, really…” he clears his throat, setting his toiletry bag down on an open space at the counter. He leans one hip against it, body facing you and studying the motions of painting your face while his mind works up the courage to bring up the pressing conversation.

“I, um, I actually have to tell you something.” His eyes cast down to the side, the grout of the tiles suddenly interested him.

“What is, Jav? You can tell me anything, you know that.” The compact in your hand is forgotten, clicked closed, and set down next to you as you mirror his stance. One hip against the counter, facing him.

“I know. I know. There’s just—It’s kind of a big thing and I wanted to tell you as soon as it all happened but I didn’t know how things would exactly shake out…”

“Javier. Take a breath,” you instruct him, hand against his chest with purposeful pressure, taking a deep inhale along with him and letting it out slowly. You don’t remove your hand, and he’s grateful for the gesture.

“I retired from the DEA two days ago. The morning before I left to come home. So, uh, I’m back at the ranch with Pop and I’ll be here now.” A mess of emotion comes out of his voice — fear, anxiety, relief, disappointment. Painfully, he drags his eyes up to your face, seeing your eyes wide with surprise and your brows relaxing from shooting up at the news. It’s an unreadable, unfamiliar expression; he watches as it all morphs behind your eyes before sympathy washes over every feature of yours, tender tone speaking up in the tiny bathroom.

“What happened?”

Everything was spilling out after that — information that was surely spreading across the US over the last 48 hours, not that he paid any attention to the news right now. Ambassador Crosby told him that he had won, that the Cali Godfathers would be locked up, at least for the foreseeable future. How dirty he felt when Crosby said the words, “You played the system like a goddamn fiddle…” The ledger proving the Colombian president’s campaign donations from the Cali cartel in exchange for immunity, the knowledge that the US government allowed all of it to occur, how he had spoken about it all to the reporter from El Tiempo.

“Javier, Jav, oh—I’m so proud of you.” The air is knocked him his lungs when the sound of those words reaches his ears, the next second being wrapped up in your tight embrace. It takes a moment to register your hug before he relaxes his weight against you, tension melting as you speak to him right next to his ear, “You told the truth. You helped every single Colombian citizen know what their government was doing to them. Just, holy shit, Javi. That’s fucking badass. I’m so, so proud of you, honey.”

Kindness, understanding, and comfort ooze around him and break down the stoicism that he’s been masked with for the last two days, tears welling in his eyes and spilling a few over that he quickly wipes away.

How can you always seem to find endless compassion for him? He’s just told you he quit his job with no real backup plan and all you said was how proud of him you are.

You’re a really good friend.

A great friend, actually.

Fuck, he is so in love with you still it hurts.

“Thank you…I don’t deserve your pride though, I did so many bad things,” his voice is hoarse on the last word, tightening his arms around you to quell his emotion.

“None of that, Jav. You uncovered a whole fucking…political scandal. Told people what their governments were doing. That’s honest; it’s ethical and respectable. You did the right thing, Jav.”

The last few words grow the lump in his throat, a slow nod against the side of your head. His lips brush your ear, confiding as if it is something he hasn’t said many times before, “Te quiero, amor.”

The smile is evident in your voice despite the fact that the hug keeps your face from his sight, and the saccharine sweetness of your voice sends his heart racing again, “Love you too, honey.”

At dinner, once there’d been a few drinks and some food served, Javier told Liliana the news he broke to you in your hotel bathroom. Albeit, it was an abridged version, details of his mistakes and pains of guilt left out for his precious daughter’s sake. She was eager to get out into the world and make a difference, and he had all the faith that she could, unlike him. He didn’t want his story to taint her view of what she was going to be able to achieve with her sheer determination.

He had that at one point. Probably lost it sometime in the last few years, slowly and then all at once when those tapes were found.

Liliana was understanding of her father resigning, chalking it up to his years down there catching up with him and teasing him for being an old man now. He took it gracefully, laughing along with the two of you and riffing on his own, with self-effacing jokes. As the conversation wrapped up, questions from Lili were answered by him — he was home, for good, living with Chucho and helping run the ranch. He would absolutely be around to help her get ready for her first day at work and help her move into her new apartment in San Antonio. And yes, he would be delighted to come over for dinner once or twice a week to spend some time with her, and you. Liliana had formulated the idea herself, earning a nod of approval from you and a warm invitation seconded.

After he accepted, Liliana changed the subject to rant about whoever the university had chosen for the commencement speech and how random of a choice it was. He listened intently, always hanging on every word from his Lili Pad, but he couldn’t help but be distracted by your hand coming to the place on his thigh closest to his knee, resting there for a moment before giving him a supportive squeeze. Nothing was spoken about the gesture, no looks were exchanged when your hand stayed there until the food came.

Sitting in the booth, observing and listening to his girls bounce back and forth in conversation, he finds the first moment of resounding comfort that he’s felt in seven years.

The last conversation he had with Spencer just days ago after the recent trial in D.C. rings in his mind, the two men standing at the displayed photos of Special Agents from the DEA.

He had asked Javier, “What else is a guy like you gonna do?”

At the time, Javier wasn’t too sure.

But now, with two of his favorite smiles beaming, one identical to his own, and the chorus of laughter that soundtracks his life, and his heart racing, the heart that bleeds for his family sitting here with him, he knows what he’s gonna do.

Be a father.

Be a partner.

Be a friend, a son, a lover, a teacher, a student, a listener, a provider, a protector.

Be everything he hasn’t been for nearly a decade.

He is going to be there for you two. No matter what.

The two of you are back in the hotel room, Liliana dropped off safely at her home and promptly reminded of the schedule for tomorrow. Javier threw her a, “Don’t be too hungover,” that you rolled your eyes at, the faintest of smiles on your face, knowing exactly how Javier was at his own graduation. You, unknowingly pregnant with Lili at the time, were feeling sick and extremely nervous to be seeing his parents the next day, so there was no drinking for you that night. The next morning you were rubbing his back as he threw up before dragging him into the shower and then dressing him like a doll.

He remembers the only thing he was thinking that morning was how much he loved you, how much he was going to miss you after moving home to Laredo to become a sheriff while you were finishing school the next year.

Life seemed so simple back then; only had to worry about visiting his girlfriend at the weekends, showing up for work on time, and taking care of his parents.

A few weeks later, you told him you were pregnant.

God, how fast was time moving? He feels like that was merely last year.

“Bathroom’s all yours, Jav.”

He looks up from his duffel to see you walking out in your pajamas, a smirk crossing his face at the faded Texas A&M shirt he recognized from his own closet from years before. With a nod to you, he unbuttons his shirt halfway before talking to you over his shoulder.

“I can take the floor, amor. You take the bed.”

A loud laugh from behind turns him around, and you look at him like he’s got about four heads.

“Javier Luis, you’re not going to be able to get up in the morning if you sleep on the floor, viejo. If it’s weird for you to sleep in the bed with me, I’ll be the one to take the floor.”

“No, you’re not. And it’s not weird for me, I just didn’t know if you would be comfortable with it.”

“Don’t know if you forgot, but we have slept in the same bed together before, Jav. It’s kind of how we have a daughter, you dork,” you snort and climb onto the plush mattress, slipping under the duvet and leaning up against the pillows.

“Hey, I was trying to be a gentleman, no need for the name-calling.”

“You are always a gentleman, hon, no need to try. Plus I have to call you names, who else will keep you humble?”

“Our daughter. That’s who. I think she’s worse than you with the jokes,” he laughs.

Your smile widens, laughing along with him and shrugging, “I wonder where she gets that from.”

A wink is sent his way, stirring his stomach before he clears his throat and nods to the bathroom, “Gonna get ready for bed, you all done in there?”

“Yeah, yeah. Go for it,” you wave toward the bathroom, grabbing your book from the nightstand.

Javier makes quick work of brushing his teeth and the rest of his night routine, avoiding his tired reflection before shutting the lights out and going back into the bedroom. Book still in your hand, he stands in his jeans again, rubbing the back of his neck. Without looking up you pat the spot next to you.

“I know you sleep in your boxers, just get in the damn bed.”

Ever since you became a mom, your power of reading his mind has gotten way too good.

Well, maybe it isn’t perfect cause if you could read his mind, you probably wouldn’t have suggested sharing a bed again with the amount of time he spends thinking about you.

“Sometimes it makes me mad how often you know what I’m going to say,” he grumbles and shucks off his jeans leaving them at the side of the bed and climbing under the covers. He stays comfortably at the side of the bed, sighing deeply as he closes his eyes. 

“Comes with experience.”

“Why can’t I do it for you then?” He opens his eyes and turns onto his side to look at you, “I’ve known you just as long as you’ve known me.”

The book in your hands is closed, and laid in your lap, looking down at Javier and shrugging, “You have your own way of it. I might know what you’re going to say, but you always anticipate everyone’s needs and you’re always one step ahead of me. I mean, you always see like four steps ahead. You saved Lili many broken bones at the playground growing up and you always used to be able to cheer me up and fix whatever was making me sad or angry before I really even knew what it was myself.”

A grin slowly pulls the corners of your lips apart, one of your hands reaching over to tap the top of his head. 

“Well, I quickly learned the signs of your hangriness. That was most often the reason you were upset,” he chuckles, one side of his mouth ticking up as he relaxes further into the bed.

Comfortable silence falls over the two of you as you read your book for a few more minutes, Javier lying next to you and trying, half-assed, to fall asleep. He really was just sneaking glances at you every time he adjusted positions, admiring the concentrated look on your face, engrossed in the story.

At one point, the book was shut for the night and set on the nightstand, the lamp clicked off and you relaxed back into bed. You turned on your side to face him, voice whisper quiet, “You asleep, Jav?”

He hums lowly, vibrations absorbed by the mattress before his eyes peel open and adjust to the darkness.

“Not yet. Qué pasa, amor?”

“Did you quit smoking?”

“Uh, I guess so, yeah. Why are you asking that now?”

“Just curious. I didn’t see you dip outside to smoke at all today and you got a non-smoking room, too. Very un-Javier.”

“Oh, is that all I am to you, esposa? A smoker?” He has a lilt of teasing in his voice, raising his eyebrows as you laugh faintly.

“Shut up, I didn’t say that.” There’s a gentle shove to his shoulder before your hands are back by you, tucked under your chin as you curl up again.

“I was going to congratulate you on quitting, but now I’m not sure if I want to, meanie.”

“You’re the one randomly questioning me about my habits! Meanie.”

“I am not a meanie, I had no bad intentions!”

“Sure, and what would you have said if I told you I didn’t quit?”

Javier gives you a satisfied smirk when you’re silent, shaking his head to himself.

“Knew it,” he rolls onto his back, hand resting on his stomach and turning his head to the side, “I quit ‘cause Lili called me before I came home and asked me to. She’s asked for a while, but I kept putting it off with the stress of work and everything. Thought now’s the time after I resigned.”

In the darkness, he suddenly feels your hand on his bicep closest to you, rubbing up and down slowly.

“You’re a good dad, Jav. The best. Glad you’re the one I got to have a kid with.”

If he says anything now, it will come out incoherent from the lump sitting in his throat. Instead, he hums in response, nothing else spoken until you’ve fallen asleep.

“I’m glad it was me, too.”

It is hot as fuck.

He’s trying so hard not to sweat his ass off while in the cattle of people funneling into the arena at this moment, attempting to keep his light beige button-up dry. He was going to wear his normal uniform of jeans and a short-sleeved shirt when he heard the weather report on the TV this morning, but your face when you saw him pull out navy slacks and his long-sleeved shirt that he packed, was too excitable and adorable to not wear anything else — “We’ll be matching! Our pictures will be so cute with Lili in her white dress.” Standing in your floral, mid-length navy dress, who was he to deny you those coordinated photos? 

Things had been much more…familiar since last night and this morning. It was the back and forth that was effortless, the fall into a perfectly choreographed routine — him anticipating your moves and you knowing what he was thinking before he could even ask a question. The close quarters of the shared room suddenly felt much too large to Javier; he was desperate for too small of space so he could stay close to you, but with 15 years of experience living together, and even longer dating, you moved too in sync with each other to collide.

He was close to you this morning, though, waking up at the sound of the alarm clock next to his side of the bed; his arm moved to shut it off, coasting along your hip and thigh before reaching behind him to stop the noise. A grumble from you pulled him back, positioning himself again on his side and adjusting the arm that ended up underneath your head, his chest enveloping your back when his other arm slung around your waist. If he closed his eyes, he could swear it was any other morning from before Colombia, stretching all the way back to his bed in his shitty college apartment that you tolerated spending nights in.

There isn’t a thing in this world he wouldn’t give to be able to have this wake up every day from now on.

He knows he needs to talk to you, to tell you all that he is feeling, but he can’t bring himself to do it now. Not before his daughter’s college graduation when the two of you are getting along like old friends. The peace shouldn’t be disrupted by you potentially rejecting him.

Which has brought him standing behind you in the crowd of parents and families, a hand on your lower back to keep a tab on you as everyone filters in through the doors. He keeps his eyes scanning out of habit, searching for a danger that surely isn’t there, while you chat away with Chucho walking directly next to you.

His attention is elsewhere, anxiety creeping into his bones at the masses gathering here, impossible to keep tabs on everyone. The three most important people to him are in this building, and he has no means to protect them if something happened—

No. Enough. This isn’t Colombia. There are no sicarios here.

It’s supposed to be an enjoyable day.

The thoughts circle in his mind as a mantra while the three of you find seats, Javier tailing with you in the middle of him and his father. You sit at the end of one row, holding the same order when you finally take your seats.

Smoothing your skirt, Javier watches as you turn to Chucho, giving him an update about something that was recently repaired in the house.

“Wait, you had to get a new water heater? Why didn’t you tell me you needed one?” he interjects with an edge, brow furrowing as he grills you.

“Jav, it was fine, Pops helped me call around for quotes and we found a good deal. It was solved in like two days. It didn’t seem like it was something I needed to make a long-distance phone call for,” you sigh defeatedly, leaning back and looking down at your nails, fidgeting with your fingers at his harshness.

Javier rolls his eyes, grumbling under his breath, “I should have known. Could’ve helped with it…Eres tan terca. Nunca pides ayuda, incluso si la necesitas. Terca. (You are so stubborn. You never ask for help, even if you need it. Stubborn.)”

Chucho stretches an arm behind your back, hitting his shoulders to sit up and addressing him with a stern tone.

“Mijo, no te pongas tan quisquilloso. Ella no quería preocuparte todo el camino allí abajo. Disculpas. (Son, don't be so oversensitive. She didn't want to worry you all the way down there. Apologize.)”

His jaw ticks to the side, sitting up straight, and shaking his head. With a sigh, he turns to you, leaning closer to speak without his father overhearing.

“I’m sorry, amor. I didn’t mean to be rude; I get frustrated not being around to help you with stuff like that. Shouldn’t have taken it out on you like that. ‘M glad Pop was there to help if I couldn’t.”

Your hand rests on his thigh, patting lovingly as you respond at the same level as him, “Next time, I’ll call you first, Jav. And then you can be the one to call Chucho for actual help.”

A smirk grows at your jest, and he falls back into his seat with a scoff.

“God, you are ruthless. Always with the jokes, esposa. Don’t know if I should be sticking around if it’ll be like this,” he chuckles, stretching an arm behind you and resting it on the back of your chair. 

“Yeah, yeah. We both know you’re gonna be around a lot more now.” His head snaps to the side to see you looking ahead with the faintest of smiles, biting back a much wider one as you lean back into his arm.

After a processional to Pomp and Circumstance, all three of you waving madly to Liliana when she spotted you in the crowd, the ceremony proceeds with little fanfare. Speeches are made, congratulations extended to all of the students from various faculty members and the special guest speaker. When it finally came time for conferring of degrees, Javier awaits the long line of A though O names. The three of you stand, watching the handful of students ahead of Lili cross the stage.

The dean of her college stands at the microphone, saying with a rehearsed smile, “Liliana Raquel Peña, Summa Cum Laude.”

At the announcement of her name and honors, the three of you erupt in cheers for the young woman crossing the stage. Javier whistles with his fingers, holding out the sound as long as he can before clapping his hands together wildly. Once Lili is descending the stairs and back to her seat, you all wave to her again as she beams up at you and shows off her diploma folder.

The moment he’s seated again, he turns his head to the side, seeing your faint tears streaking your face. On instinct, he reaches for your hand before he can second guess it and laces your fingers together with a gentle squeeze. A pitiful laugh slips out from you when you look back at him, a blubbering smile parting your lips.

Javier leans closer to you, centimeters from your ear to confide, “I think you did an amazing job raising our girl, amor. Thank you.”

In the back room of a local restaurant, the Peña extended family mills about, filling the room with sound from the music over the speakers and everyone chatting and catching up with each other — especially congratulating the guest of honor.

Aunts and uncles and cousins that were available have all flocked together to celebrate Liliana, and despite the overwhelming urge to Irish exit this party because of the constant comments and questions about Colombia, Javier is staying until you’re ready to leave. Which undoubtedly will be until the end of your reservation.

He sits at one of the tables pushed to the side of the room, sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms and crossing his limbs over his chest as he reclines in the wooden chair. Buttons of his shirt have been undone post-photos with the grad, the air conditioning cooling his sun-baked skin. His fingers can still feel the phantom of your linen dress, his hand affixed to your lower back in all of the photos taken.

Easily, with a quick scan of the room, he finds you talking to his mamá’s sister, Tia Rose. You’re smiling brightly, the crinkles at your eyes showing off your joy as his aunt surely is congratulating you or complimenting you on how you raised your daughter.

He really meant what he said at the ceremony. There is no way he could have done what you managed if you were the one to have left for work. You were a fucking hero to him, not himself. He’s been hearing it over and over every time he returns home — “You’re a hero, Javier.”

It’s complete bullshit.

His results were rigged, the system played him as much as he supposedly played it.

When he thinks about being a hero, he doesn’t think about anything close to what he’s done. He thinks about sacrifice, compassion, strength — you have it all. You’ve saved him from himself time and time again, and you’ve done it all while being a working mom and dealing with your partner, your co-parent, being thousands of miles away for years.

“Ay, mijo, estás tu cabeza en las nubes otra vez? (Son, is your head in the clouds again?)” Javier looks up to his right at the sound of his father’s voice, standing to offer him help into the chair next to him but waved off with a grumble from Chucho.

“Is it that easy to tell, Pop?” he asks, a half-hearted smile on his face as he retakes his seat.

“Eh, to me, yes. Probably to your girls, too, but I think anyone else would think you’re doing your sulky, pendejo act.”

“Pendejo act? Don’t think it’s an act at this point, Pop. Been feeling like one more and more.”

“Sí, y por qué es eso? (Yeah, and why is that?)”

“Estoy ausente (I’m absent.)”

“Dios, Javier…” his father sighs and shakes his head, turning his head to look at his son, “You are not absent. Quit telling yourself that, or you really are going to be. You’re home now, so be home.”

“It is a blessing to have Liliana at home for this summer, spend as much time as you can with her…And you know how I feel about mi nuera (my daughter-in-law).”

Javier sighs, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees and find you in the crowd again. As if you can sense his eyes on you, you turn toward him and give him a tender smile that quells his near constant nervous energy.

God, it’s unfair how beautiful you are.

And how kind, and forgiving, too.

This conversation is making him want a cigarette. Really bad.

Instead, he pulls the plastic packet out of his pocket, popping out another chiclet of gum and tossing it in his mouth.

He prepares for a lecture from his father; Chucho seems to know a lot more about you these days than Javier. Every week since he left for Colombia, you’ve gone over to Chucho’s house for dinner at least once. With Liliana away at school, you still went. It filled Javier’s heart with a syrupy, oozing warmth whenever he thought about the relationship you have with his father. How you 're always going to be family, a daughter to him, after your parents cut you off those twenty-something years ago.

“She’s still coming over every week, y’know. Didn’t seem to be doing too great until about two weeks ago. Came over after she received a phone call. Was all excited and basically bouncing off the walls. I asked her why, and she said she got some exciting news. You know what it was?”

“Qué?”

“You coming home. I think you called to confirm your flights with her, and she was just so excited, mijo. Cooked your favorite for dinner that night—“

“Pollo asado?”

“Sí, con mole.”

“Mierda, estoy celoso. (Shit, I’m jealous.)”

Chucho laughs from his belly, shaking a bit in the seat as he reaches up and adjusts his cowboy hat.

“It was delicious, as always,” Javier hums in acknowledgement before his father continues, “But I’m not telling you all of that just to tell you what I had for dinner. I’m telling you cause I need you to get your head out of your ass and talk to her. Anyone with eyes can see how in love with her you still are. I wanted you to know that there’s something there for her, too. Hazla mi nuera de verdad. (Make her my daughter-in-law for real.)”

“I’ll talk to her, Pop. Don’t need a wingman, so please don’t say anything to her. Please.”

Chucho stands and shrugs, nonchalantly closing with, “If you don’t do it soon, I’m taking matters into my own hands and telling her myself how lovesick you are. I will not make any promise I cannot keep, so you better keep that one if you don’t want me involved, mijo.”

Javier stays put as his father filters into the party-goers, shaking his head as he smiles to himself.

Maybe he does still have a chance.

The end of the night was fairly uneventful, everyone saying their goodbyes and final congratulations to Liliana. You insisted on helping to set the room up as you had all found it, correcting the tables and chairs back to their usual positions. When you were about to start taking dishes back to the kitchen, Lili rolled her eyes and walked out to the front of the restaurant while Javi grabbed you by your hips from behind and physically directed you out of the room.

“Jav, I feel bad, we made a mess! Let me help!”

“Esposa, you are wonderful and so sweet, I’m sure they appreciate your help. But this is a restaurant, cariño, and you don’t get paid to work here so I don’t think they’re gonna want to be liable for you,” he slides his hands up and down a few inches of your sides, dragging the fabric of your dress up and letting it fall back when he takes his hands off of your sides, placing one on your back.

Javier helps you into the cab of his truck, you taking the middle of the bench and Lili following into the passenger side to be able to get out easier. He drives over to Lili’s house, dropping her off with both of you giving massive hugs and final congrats for the day.

It was a quiet car ride to the hotel, but you ended up back in the middle seat closest to Javier, leaning your head on his shoulder.

Walking into the building, he bit the inside of his cheek as he brushed your hand with his, no recoil from his touch giving him the confidence to take your hand completely in his. Fingers intertwined as you both got in the elevator, tender, unspoken words in your eyes.

Now, Javier sits at the edge of the bed, a short plastic cup in his hand filled with half a mini bottle of champagne. There’s a matching cup in your hand, standing in front of him as he looks up at you with worshiping eyes.

“Cheers, Jav. Good on us for getting our kid through college,” you say with a smile, the sound of plastic crinkling in your hands following your little toast. Each of you takes a sip of the drink, Javier leaning around you to set his down on the desk. His hands move to hover at your waist, your permission granted with a small step to stand between his opened legs.

Javier’s calloused palms catch on your dress again, inching the fabric up as his tongue pokes out to wet his lips. He looks up at you while you return the stare down at him, your free hand finding the curls at the nape of his neck.

“Thank you, amor. For taking on so much more responsibility and shouldering the weight of raising Lili Pad in her teens, and getting her into a great school, and supporting her throughout these last four years when I couldn’t—

“Jav, it was both of us.”

“No, please let me give you the credit you deserve, esposa. You did it all without ever being angry with me, and you always supported me, too. And every time I’ve come back for a visit, you make it seem like I never left with how welcome you make me feel.”

“You’re always a part of our family, Jav. Always.”

He nods, feeling his chest tighten at your words, gripping you tighter as if you’re going to slip away, as if he’ll wake up and this whole trip will have been a dream, as if he will be stuck in Colombia, or forced to go back to the DEA and work in Mexico.

“Thank you, really, thank you for always making me feel a part of it all from so far away. All the photos, all the letters, the birthday cards, and care packages…You are a great mother, and an even better woman. So much better as a person than I ever could be, and I am so lucky that you chose me to have a kid with. Lili is incredible because she’s part of you. Thank you, amor, you have given me a life I don’t think I deserve.”

His head drops, tugging you closer to rest his forehead against your stomach. Silence blankets the room, your fingers running through his hair soothingly. After a moment, you take his chin between your index and thumb, turning his head up to look at you again.

Javier wants so badly to be able to read your mind right in that second, the look in your eyes puzzling him. As he opens his mouth to say something, anything, to fill the air, you’re folding forward and catching his lips in a kiss. It’s light, too faint for his needs, and you’re pulling away much too quickly. His spine elongates, chasing your mouth before you can get too far and locking you in a breathless exchange.

His hands paw at your sides, a desperate attempt being made to pull you as close as possible while also running his hands along your curves. In the surprise of it all, getting lost in his lips, you drop the cup in your hand. Champagne splashes onto your feet, ignored as Javier lifts your mid-length dress to your hips, climbing back on the bed and pulling you over him without breaking your kiss.

Your knees cage his thighs in, settling on his lap as he slots his lips around your bottom one, tracing along it with his tongue. Parting with a gasp, your mouth opens to let him in, melding your tongues together. A whimper escapes from you when he tugs you further onto his lap, feeling his bulge in his slacks press against your core.

Javier pulls away from your lips, dragging his nose along your cheek and leaving a trail of wet, open mouth kisses along your jaw. At the spot on your neck close to your ear, he sucks a mark, smirking against your skin when your back arches and squeezes your chest against his.

“Fuck, Jav…” you sigh, fingers tangling into his hair.

He hums against your skin, pulling away and kissing under your chin.

“You’re so beautiful, amor. I missed you so fucking much. Thought about you all the time.”

“Yeah? What did you think about?” Your voice is  shaky when Javi drops his hands to your hips, starting to drag them back and forth against his cock straining against his zipper. 

“Mm, thought about how good you smell all the time, how sweet you taste…how much I miss having you in my bed every night. Being able to have you when I need you,” a groan slips from his mouth at your moan, moving your hips faster the more he talks, “I thought about how fucking stupid I was to leave someone like you behind. Mi vida, la luz de mi vida (My life, the light of my life)…felt like I left half of my soul when I went away.”

From above, you lean down to catch him in a passionate kiss, breathy exhales and muffled moans exchanged while your fingers work as the buttons on his shirt. Javier leans forward, shrugging off the materials before his arms are around you again, snaking around your back to grip your ass.

“Jav, I missed you so much. Never felt the same, there was always something missing…I always needed you. I always need you.”

“Mi amor, lo siento (My love, I’m sorry). I’m here now. Never leaving again.” His hands roam to your sides, finding the zipper of your dress on his left and pulling it down. He bunches the skirt of it in his hands and slowly takes it off over your head; he’s faced with you sitting in his lap, no bra and only panties on.

As if magnetic, his hands fly right back to your sides, skimming up until his thumbs lay under your breasts, fingers splayed along your rib cage.

“You’re so beautiful, mi amor, so fucking beautiful. Can I make you feel good, baby?”

“Please, Jav, need you so bad.”

“Oh, baby, mi esposa, I’ve got you. Get on your back, cariño.”

Javier watches as you move off of him and fall back onto the bed, the plush duvet sinking underneath you and pillowing out at your sides.

An angel in the clouds.

No more time is wasted as he tugs you to the edge of the bed, kneeling on the floor and booting your legs over his shoulder to open you up.

“Wait, Jav, here.” You twist to the side and stretch to reach for one of the pillows, giving it to him with a thoughtful smile.

“For your knees, viejo. Not a twenty year old athlete anymore, hon.”

Javier rolls his eyes and moves to kneel on the pillow, already feeling better in his joints from the cushion. He wraps his arms around your thighs and nips close to your panties, rolling out a groan.

“Sometimes, I hate when you’re right.”

“That’s ‘cause you always have to be right, Peña. It’s always been th—“ you trail off into a moan when his fingers prod through your wetness, one hand hooking your underwear to the side.

“I don’t always have to be right, esposa. You know you’re the boss out of the two of us,” he winks before he tugs your panties off of your legs, settling back between your legs.

You nod, sitting up and leaning your weight on one arm to look down at him.

“Mhm, glad y’know your place still, Jav,” you tease as your other hand pushes his hair away from his forehead, a smirk mirrored onto his face, “Make me come, mi esposo.”

You can see his eyes darken, breaths shallowing. Feather light kisses scatter across your inner thighs until he reaches your core, pursing his lips and blowing cool air against your wetness.

“Fuck, cariño, guess you did really miss me. So fucking wet. All for me?”

“Javi,” you whine, scooting your hips closer to him, “Please, need you.”

“I know, baby, I know. I can see how much you need me.” He licks one long stripe from your tightest hole to your clit, groaning at the taste of you. “You want me to play with your sweet pussy, mi amor? Make you feel so good?”

“Please, please, Jav.”

He soothes you with circles on your lower stomach, nodding as he lays his head on your thigh, “Don’t worry, baby, I’ve got you.”

Before you can beg out a response, his lips are attached to your clit, sucking hard before laying his tongue flat against it, moving slow circles around.

His muscle memory guides him to fall into the pattern that he memorized to get you off with his mouth and fingers, pushing one of his thick fingers inside of your cunt knuckle deep and stroking against that same spot he knows drives you wild.

Your back arches off the bed, pressing your clit into his tongue harder. He slurps up your wetness, sighing at your familiar taste that he missed so much. Another finger is added, the rhythm of their thrusts building up faster and faster. Right at the edge, your fingers tangled in his hair tugging hard, he switches positions, tongue plunging inside of you and fingers rubbing quick circles into your clit. Before you can even register, you're coming around his mouth, flooding his tongue and his lips.

“Javi, oh my god, fuck me…”

He leads you through the orgasm, pulling away with a boyish smirk.

“That’s kind of the plan, hermosa. Gonna fuck you.”

You roll your eyes, beckoning him to stand up. Sitting up fully, you strip him of his slacks and boxers, briefly taking him in your mouth before he’s pulling you off of him and pushing you further up the bed. Climbing over you, a heady kiss is shared as he settles between your legs. In the moment, you easily get him onto his back, moving to straddle him as he looks up at you breathless. Large hands hold tightly to your thighs, jaw dropping as you grab his hard cock and easily slip him inside of you, sinking down until he’s full hilt.

“Fucking Christ, amor. Take my cock so well, show me what you can do.”

Your hips find a slow, aching rhythm that makes you both breathless. As you continue to grind yourself around him, you lean forward and press yourself against his torso, skin sticking to skin.

“Jav—Javier, you are such a good man. I never doubted how much you loved me. How much you do love me,” you breathe out, hips faltering for a moment before you recover.

 “You were always there for us, and I’m so proud of you for going after what you wanted. Making the world a better place…” you move your hips slowly as you ride him, leaning down to press your foreheads together, stuttering but managing to get the words out for him, “You are a great man and an even better father. I couldn’t have chosen a better partner. I love you.”

Javier whimpers and stutters out a moan when you move your hips faster, your hand on his chin keeping his forehead against you. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before opening them, facing you and him whispering back, “Te amo, te amo, te amo. I love you so much, mi esposa. Mi amor. Te amo siempre.”

The sound that leaves you at that moment, hearing his proclamations of love, flips a switch inside of him. The primal need to make you his again, completely. His arm around your hips grips you tighter, feet planted on the mattress behind you. He uses the leverage to meet your rhythm with his own thrusts, sweet sounds slipping from your lips egging him on.

Your nails dig into his shoulders and he looks up at you in awe as you arch your back, head falling to the side as your face scrunches up in pleasure.

“Oh, fuck yes, yeah. Right there, ohmygod, papí…”

“Fuck, that’s right, baby,” he says in a drawn out exhale, hammering his hips up into you, “Say it again, mi amor. Say it again.”

“Papí—Feels so good, papí.”

“Yeah? Haven’t heard that one in a while, baby. Love it coming from you, say it again. Please, baby. Por favor.”

“Papí, papí, papí…Harder, please, want it harder.”

“Anything for you, mi amor. I’ll give you anything you want. Fuck this pussy however you want it, whenever you want me.”

One of your hands drops from his shoulder to the mattress, bracing yourself from his unrelenting pace. You’re a whining mess, opening your eyes and looking down at him under you, sweaty and glistening with his wild hair and mustache shiny from your come. Javier rumbles a loud moan of your name, on the verge of a growl when he feels you clench around his cock. 

“Come for me, mi esposa. Let me feel you…” he pulls you flush against him as he fucks up into you, lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “Te amo, mi esposa, te amo. I love you. Love you so much.”

“Pa—Papí, fuck! Oh my god, Javi!” Your head rolls back as you come around him, bounces faltering as you slip against his chest like jelly.

“Fuck, baby, gonna fill you up. You want me inside you all night, mi amor? Want me to make you full of me again?” His lips brush against your ear, whimper and nod in response.

“Yes, yes please, papí. Want you inside.”

“Fuck yes, mi amor. One more time for me, say it one more time.”

“Come inside me…please come for me, papí.”

A moan stutters in his throat as he buries himself fully in you, twitching with each rope he spends. Grip tightening around you, he stays inside of you as he kisses you deeply, pulling away to brush your hair away from your face.

“You have no idea how long I have been wanting to do that again, mi esposa. Te amo, hermosa. I love you.”

“I love you too, Jav. Missed you,” your head lays on his chest, sigh warming his sweaty skin, “Will you be around when we’re home or—“

“Mi amor, you’re gonna have a hard time keeping me away from you and Lili now. I wanna spend every moment I can with you both. My girls.”

It’s a Sunday evening at the Peña ranch, a few weeks after Lili’s graduation. You and her have come over to Chucho’s house for dinner, Javier already there from working the day with his father. He’s mostly over at yours in the evenings, coming over to spend time with Lili, and you, staying for dinner, having movie nights, grilling out. He’s been basking in the slow life, the life of a father that he’s been so desperately craving. It’s been an itch like he has for a cigarette, finally taking an inhale and his nerves melting away as he adjusted to a balance with you two.

Tonight, however, Chucho insisted that you and he keep your weekly get-togethers, despite Javi being home for good now, and the four of you have had dinner around the cozy dining table off of the kitchen. Javier is gathering the dinner plates, Liliana standing to help him clean up.

“Anyone want any dessert? What d’ya have here, Pop?” he looks between his father and you, awaiting an answer.

Before Chucho can say anything, you sit up with a quiet gasp, “Oh, do you have any mangoes, Chuch? I really would love some mango with Tajín. Or some strawberries with honey. Or both.”

You grin up at Javier and he laughs, nodding his head.

“I’ll see what I can do, amor.”

“Y’know, mija, my Lucia always had mangoes around the house when she was pregnant with Javi. She would slice them up and put so much Chamoy and Tajín, you could barely see that it was a mango underneath it all.”

“That honestly sounds perfect right now, I bet Lucia made some kickass mangonadas, too,” you laugh softly, looking up behind you as Javi squeezes your shoulder lovingly.

“Oh, she definitely did. Whole family begged her to make them every time we all got together,” Chucho belly laughs fondly at the memories, nodding to himself, “We thought for the longest time that we were going to have a girl. All Lucia craved were sweets or fruits, and there’s some old wives tale, una fábula, that if your cravings are sweet, it is a girl, and if they’re savory, it’s a boy.”

“Huh, how funny. Guess thinking back, I did crave a lot of chocolate ice cream with Lili.”

“Oh god, I remember being kicked in the middle of the night and having to go to the town over cause they had a 24-hour gas station just to get you some Ben & Jerry’s,” Javier laughs, kissing the top of your head as you shrug.

“And now look, you’ve got the sweetest daughter to ever exist. All thanks to me,” you grin, sending Javi a wink as he finishes gathering the dishes from the table.

He sees his father smiling to himself as Chucho leans back in his chair, Javier retreating to the kitchen to find something for dessert for you while Lili washes up and the two of you at the table strike up some conversation.

Later that week, you gave Javi a call and asked him to come over after he was done on the ranch. He agreed immediately, of course, and couldn’t fight the buzzing excitement he felt to see you again. It took him back to those days before Lili, before the two of you were ever really anything, you calling and asking him over to your dorm room or your apartment. He felt like a giddy teenager again.

He showered quickly and changed before heading over to yours, parking in the driveway of your small three bed house he had bought for you all. At the door, he knocked before using his key to get inside, calling out to you.

“Amor? Lili Pad? Anybody home?”

The pad of footsteps on the tile floors catch his attention, a smile stretching across his face as you come around the corner into the entryway. He kicks off his boots before meeting you in the middle, arms wrapping around you and holding you tightly to his chest. He sighs an exhale, relaxing around your warmth.

“Long day, Jav?”

“You have no idea, mi amor. Had to chase a fucking bull that got loose in the pastures when we were trying to corral all of ‘em. My ass is hurting from having to ride the horse so much.”

You laugh into his chest, pressing a kiss to his shirt before leaning back to look at his face, “Oh your poor butt. You wanna sit on the couch then?”

He hums in confirmation, kissing the top of your head before you lead him into the living room and let him flop down on the sofa.

“Where’s Lili Pad?”

“Oh, um, she’s out with friends tonight. Thought it could be just us…” You join him, sitting with a couple of feet between you two. He can see how tense you are, sitting up straight, fiddling with your fingers, placing a pillow in your lap. Extending an arm out, he holds his hand palm up for you to take.

“I’m more than okay with just us, cariño. What’s going on with you? You seem anxious. Everything at work okay? Everything okay with Lili?” He rubs his thumb across your knuckles after you take his hand, brows knitting with concern.

“Yeah, yeah. Everything is great with Lili. And work is, well, work. No complaints…” your eyes stay trained on your hands together, swallowing before you speak up again, “I actually think it would be easier to show you.”

He feels even more concerned and confused as you stand up, disappearing out of the room for a moment before coming back with a hand behind your back. You don’t sit again, opting to stand in front of him; you bring your hand forward, passing the object to him.

It takes him a minute to register what it is, the last time he saw one this up close being about twenty something years ago.

A pregnancy test.

A positive pregnancy test.

Positive.

“Think we could do as good a second time around?”

You’re pregnant.

He’s going to be a dad again?

He’s going to be a dad again, with you?

He’s going to be a dad again. He gets to have another child with you.

His heart is beating out of his chest, mouth dropped open with no words coming out.

A shake of his head knocks him out of the shock, setting the test to the side and looking up at you with welling eyes.

“I get to be a papá again? With you, mi amor?”

A beaming smile widens on your face, your hands finding the sides of his head as you nod down at him.

“Yeah, honey, you’re going to be a dad, again. Lili’s gonna have a little brother or sister. Much, much younger,” you say with a chuckle.

Javier laughs a little breathless, eyes flickering between your face and your stomach that is eye level with him.

“Oh my god, oh my god, mi amor—Te amo, te amo siempre,” His hand finds her tummy, roaming around in circles, attempting to feel the familiar bump or any side of his baby growing inside there. Soft kisses litter your torso as he pulls you closer, resting his forehead against your ribs.

“I love you too, Jav,” you push back his hair and he stares up at you in wonder, pulling you gently to sit in his lap, “Do you…I mean, I want you to come home. Maybe we can actually get married this time. Have the family life with Lili and the little baby. I know we used to just joke about our fake city hall marriage, but I’ve always wanted that with you, Jav.”

A soft, tender kiss is shared, the two of you holding onto each other. One of Javier’s hands rests on your stomach, his heart already completely overflowing with love for the person growing inside of you. It’s quiet for a moment, both of you sitting with each other in silence. With another kiss, Javi hugs you, your head resting on his shoulder as he whispers in your ear.

“Graciás, mi amor. Thank you — for never giving up on our family. On me. Thank you for giving me everything I could have ever dreamed of. I can’t wait to have another baby with you, they’re gonna be as perfect as you, and Lili. My girls. Te amo, mi esposa, te amo siempre.”

javi's photo board in colombia <3

tagging mutuals that might be interested??

@northernbluess @swiftispunk @johnwatsn @cannolighost @joelsversion @cupofjoel @darkroastjoel @atinylittlepain @beskarandblasters @wannab-urs @jksprincess10 @bearsbeetsbeskar @smokeinherperfume @thetriumphantpanda @atticrissfinch @perotovar @mrsquill @javiscigarette @yazsos @deathwife @pr0ximamidnight @undrthelights @lunapascal @ladamedusoif @haylzcyon

#javier #writing #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x female reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña fic #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña fanfic #javier peña smut #javier peña fluff #narcos fic #narcos fanfiction #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena x female reader #javier pena x f!reader #javier pena smut #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena fic

[ladykailitha]

Across a Crowded Room

*grumbles* I can't believe this IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE CUTE AND SHORT! Not only has it gotten a little angsty in middle there, it's about to breach 10k words. And I'm not even CLOSE to the ending.

The fuuuucckkkkk.

I was meant to be working on other things. Like editing a story to be beta'ed so I can put it on AO3 for you all, extending Batshit soulmates because I was skipping over too much, and wrapping up Glitters.

Guess who did none of those things because this story consumed my soul?

ME!!!

I will be posting this on Saturday as it's not one of my regular WIPs.

Enjoy. *sniffs* I guess.

Summary: Modern, no monsters AU. After they all graduated from high school the older teens drifted to other parts of the country. And while Steve and Eddie have made short trips to see each other, usually with the whole, they really haven't spent much time in the same room in years.

That all changes when Eddie is able to spend a week in Chicago with Steve and Robin.

But when Eddie sees Steve for the first time in years, he gets scared. Will have the courage to walk across that crowded room to be with Steve?

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

Eddie hadn’t seen Steve in years. After high school when they became friends through mutual parenting of six absolutely terrifyingly smart teenagers, they kinda went their separate ways.

Steve and Robin had gone to Chicago for college and Eddie and his band had gone further west to LA to try and make it as metal artists.

This is was the first time in a really long time that their schedules lined up. They talked all the time. Friends on all their social media. But they hadn’t seen each other since they said goodbye in Steve’s driveway four years ago.

Eddie was standing at the bar entrance where he was supposed to be meeting Steve, just staring at him.

God, he had been gorgeous in high school. Because of course he was. Captain of the basketball team, co-captain of the swim team, and the baseball team’s best hitter.

But he looked even more so now.

His honey colored, wind tussled hair had grown out a bit. A lock of hair flopped devastatingly in front of one of his hazel eyes. He had filled out some, once thin and wiry, now deep chested and toned. Even in the winterscape hell that was Chicago, Steve’s skin was warmly tanned.

He was laughing with a group of people and never had Eddie felt more out of place in his life, and that was saying something. He had been dropped off at his Uncle Wayne’s when he was twelve. Been nicknamed the “Freak”. And had always been flamboyantly himself: a big, gay, metal loving geek.

Eddie was about to turn around and go back the way he came when a familiar voice called his name.

He turned around and there was Robin Buckley. Steve’s platonic soulmate and best friend.

“Hey,” he croaked.

“Did you just get here?” she asked brightly.

Eddie nodded. “My flight was delayed three times. I haven’t even been to my hotel yet.”

Robin winced. “That sucks.” She looked at him more closely and he gulped. “You weren’t thinking of cutting and running were you?”

“Me?” Eddie said, dramatically clutching his hands to his chest. “I would ne–”

She raised an eyebrow at him, effectively shutting him up.

“I wasn’t gonna,” Eddie said mournfully, “until I got here. He just looks so happy. He doesn’t need someone like me coming back into his life like a wrecking ball.” He pulled out his phone and waved it at her. “Once I can get this charged, I’ll message him and tell him my flight got canceled and that’ll we’ll reschedule.”

She looked at his phone and then back up at him. “What happened to your phone?”

“My charging cable port snapped,” he grumbled. “And it died after the first delay.”

Again she winced in sympathy.

“You’re in love with him,” she said, “aren’t you?”

Eddie sighed and looked back over at Steve. One of his friends must have told a joke because Steve was laughing so hard his eyes were mere slits. He looked back at her and he sighed.

“The sky is blue, Midwestern winters suck,” he muttered, “and I’m in love with Steve Harrington.”

Robin rolled her eyes, then she got this calculating grin on her face.

“Uh oh.”

“I’ll tell you what,” she said slyly, “you let me do a little experiment with a small wager. If I win, you man up and tell him how you feel. If you win, you can tell him that your trip has been cut short and you have to go back in a couple of days and blow out his life again.”

Eddie pursed his lips and looked at back at Steve.

“What’s the experiment?” he asked.

Robin jumped up and down with glee. “I’m going to text Steve that I found you. You aren’t going to take your eyes off him the whole time. Then when I’m done, I’ll show the conversation.”

He licked his lips. “And what’s the wager?”

“You think he’s happier without you,” she said. “If that’s true, he’s not going to show a lot of excitement. He’ll be relieved and happy that you’re here, but no real enthusiasm. Right?”

Eddie just nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“I know he’s going to flip out,” she continued with that sly grin. “He’s going to be jumping up and down and looking around for you, trying to find you in the crowd.”

“What if it’s somewhere in the middle?” Eddie asked honestly.

Robin cocked her head to the side. “Then you stay the full week and suss him out.”

Eddie let out a long sigh. “All right. You’re on.”

“Good!” she said. She grabbed him by the arms and moved him a little. “There. Now he won’t be able to spot you immediately.”

He had let himself be manhandled because he had long since learned that Robin could and would kick if he didn’t do what she wanted.

“Now, keep your eyes on Steve.”

Eddie scoffed. “Easiest thing in the world.”

Robin snorted and got out her phone.

He really wanted to look over her shoulder to see what she was typing because he was eaten up with curiosity about what she was sending Steve. But he did as he was told. He kept his eyes on the most beautiful boy in the world.

Steve pulled out his phone and then his head snapped up. He looked around excitedly. He started flapping his hands and talking animatedly with his friends. Eddie watched as he smoothed down his hair and wiped his hands on his jeans. He pulled out a breath mint out of his pocket and ducked his head when his friends obliviously teased him for it.

He looked over at Robin in shock.

“What the hell did you tell him?”

She turned her phone around and he read their conversation.

-Guess who I found by the door looking like a lost puppy?

-He’s here?

-Eddie’s here?

-Where?

-Why didn’t he text me? :(

-lol

-Calm down, I’ll bring him to you.

-The idiot’s phone died and his charger broke.

-I can’t be calm, how can I be calm? He’s here! He’s finally here.

“Oh.”

The little frownie face at the end of the “Why didn’t he text me?” message did Eddie’s heart in.

He cleared his throat. “Um...if I were to, say, I don’t know, go over there and kiss his lights out, would I get hate crimed?”

Robin laughed. “No. And there is no one in his friends that would be nasty about it either.”

Eddie nodded. “Lead the way.” He bowed and waved his hand dramatically so that she would go first.

“Nerd.”

Eddie cackled as he followed her to the table. Steve was on his feet the instant he saw him.

Eddie was a weak man. That had been pretty well established tonight. So he thought he could be excused when he picked Steve up by the waist and swung him around.

“Eddie!” Steve giggled.

Robin scoffed. “Gays are so disgusting.”

“Says the lesbian,” Steve said when Eddie had put him down.

“Lesbians are a different flavor of gay and thereby aren’t disgusting,” she said with a half shrug like it was a truth universally acknowledged or some shit.

He shook his head and turned back to Eddie, who had yet to let go of his waist. “I missed you, too, Eds.”

“I missed you so much, Stevie,” Eddie whispered back.

“Yeah?” Steve asked, hopeful.

“Yeah,” he breathed and lifted Steve’s chin. He pressed their lips together and suddenly Steve’s crowd of friends erupted into cheers.

Steve broke the kiss and stared up at Eddie in awe.

“Wow.”

Eddie giggled. “You like that?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, more than a little breathless. “You’re stuck now. That’s how I want you to greet me every time now.”

Eddie’s face split with a large grin. “You got it, baby.”

Robin cleared her throat. “May I remind you two that we are in fact in public?”

Eddie and Steve looked over at her and then back at each other. Robin isn’t sure who started it, but soon they both were laughing like children.

Steve introduced him to the small group of friends.

There was a sofa near the table Steve’s friends were sitting at so Eddie sat down there, so Steve could cuddle up on his side.

“How long are you in town for?” A punky Asian girl with pink and purple streaks in her short cropped hair asked. Steve had introduced her as Maria Nguyen. They had a couple of classes with each other.

Steve looked at Eddie as if he had been wondering the same thing.

Eddie chuckled. “That’s the surprise I was telling you about, darlin’. Me and the boys got a record deal and their headquarters and studio is right here in Chicago. So I will be moving to the fair Windy city.”

“You’re staying?” Steve asked, his voice rising with excitement.

“I’m in town for about a week to look for apartments and shit,” Eddie amended. “Then I will move here at the end of the month.”

“Holy shit!” Robin said, glaring daggers at him.

Steve picked up on the latent hostility, but Eddie shook his head and whispered, “I’ll tell you later.” He pressed a kiss to Steve hair.

“You have a band?” a large young man with freckles and braces asked. He had red hair and wire rimmed glasses. Steve said his was Jason, Justin...Jarren! That was it.

“Sure do!” Eddie said. “Corroded Coffin. Me and my three closest friends, besides Buck and Stevie here, have been out in LA playing our hearts out.”

“Buck?” Maria asked, rearing her head back.

“Buckley!” Eddie explained.

“So what kind of music do you play?” Jarren asked, leaning forward, very interested.

“Metal.”

Maria snorted. “Like that’s Steve’s least favorite kind of music.”

Steve sat up. “It is not! There are all sorts of music I don’t like. Metal can be good. It’s just the screamo shit I can’t stand. Corroded Coffin isn’t like that.”

“Yeah,” Robin agreed. “Hell, Steve would put pop music below metal and you know how much he loves Tears for Fears.”

Eddie groaned. “I still can’t believe of all the 80s bands out there to be your favorite you pick Tears for Fears!”

“What? They’re great.”

“Stevie, darlin’, love of my life,” Eddie said sweetly. “You cannot honestly tell me that their version of ‘Mad World’ is better than Gary Jules.”

“Wait?” Jarren said. “They did a cover of ‘Mad World’?”

Steve shook his head. “They sang it originally. Here let me show you.”

He pulled out his phone and handed it over. Robin, Maria, and Jarren huddled around the phone as they watched the video for it.

“That was trippy as hell,” Maria said, handing the phone back to Steve.

“I know, right?” Eddie said.

Steve rolled his eyes. “He does have a point regarding this one song. The original version is too fast for what the song is about.”

Eddie cackled with glee.

“I still maintain that Shout, Head Over Heels, and Everybody Wants to Rule the World are absolute bangers,” Steve huffed.

Eddie kissed his cheek and Steve blushed.

“Wait!” Jarren said, “Do my eyes deceive me or is Steve Harrington, the man, the myth, the legend, blushing?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Not that again. I don’t believe it was ever a thing.”

Eddie sat up on the sofa, too and looked Steve in the eye. “What’s this, babe?”

“Stevie here made a girl come just by talking to her,” Robin said with a grin.

Eddie licked his lips slowly and Steve blushed deeper. “Did you now?”

“No!” Steve insisted. “That was just the excuse she used for running away after I badly flirted with her.”

Maria scoffed. “Dude, I was there, you did not flirt badly.”

Eddie pulled Steve close to his side and murmured in his ear. “I fully expect the full Harrington Charm experience, sweetheart.” His voice dropped really low. “Because I bet you could make me come just from the sound of your voice.”

Steve’s eyes went wide and he ducked his head.

Maria shook her head. “I can’t believe that King Steve got out rizzed by this swagless loser. How in the hell?”

“Maria!” Jarren hissed. “He does not look like a swagless loser. You take that back. He’s cool.”

Eddie turned to Steve. “Looks like you’re going to have to be the tie-breaker, sweetheart.”

“How’s that?” Steve asked. “Robin hasn’t said anything yet.”

“Ah, but that’s because I think I’m cool,” Eddie said holding up one finger, “and I know that Robin would vote for swagless loser.”

Robin snorted. “Damn right I would.”

“So it’s girls verses guys,” Steve said thoughtfully.

Jarren snorted. “More like lesbians verses the gays.”

Steve cocked his head to the side and then nodded.

“I dub thee my really cool metalhead geek!” Steve said solemnly.

Everyone’s eyes narrowed at him.

“Babe...” Robin said. “Did you just go down the middle of the road to avoid an argument?”

Steve batted his eyelashes at her. “Maybe...”

Eddie huffed and crossed his arms in front of his chest, pouting. Steve leaned forward and kissed the bottom of his jaw.

“How about my very cool, gorgeous, metalhead boyfriend?” he murmured softly.

Eddie looked down at him eyes wide. “Holy shit, you mean that?”

Steve nodded.

Eddie swiftly brought their mouths together and kissed Steve deeply. “That is acceptable.”

Steve giggled.

The night past in good company and drinks.

Eddie had duck out early because he still had to check into his hotel, but he kissed Steve goodbye and left with a spring in his step.

****

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Also, also. I forgot to mention that the title comes from a song by Counting Crows called Long December. So in my head I was singing, It's been so long since you came to (Indiana) I think you should!

Never mind they're in Illinois and the actual lyric is California.

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

#stranger things #my writing #steddie #ladykailtiha writes

[shitswiftiessay]

so taylor has put out another hit piece against joe (who’s surprised)

after buying winning the TIME person of the year award 2023, and having a gushing puff piece that’s supposed to paint her as this trailblazer for women and feminist icon…

she made sure to dedicate a significant portion of it to talking about her boyfriends. 🙄

so here are the cringeworthy excerpts where she’s talking about her latest victim boyfriend.

“Football is awesome, it turns out. I’ve been missing out my whole life.”

I love how she single handedly debunked the claim that swifties have been making, that taylor ALWAYS loved football and was a huge eagle fan (just bc she had an eagles shirt). now it’s basically confirmed that this football shit is just taylor’s newest PERSONALITY that she’s gonna wear for a few months, until she gets bored of it, and then she’ll throw travis under the bus and she’ll start siccing her fans against him.

“This all started when Travis very adorably put me on blast on his podcast, which I thought was metal as hell.”

god, someone bring me a BARF BUCKET please. 🪣 🤮 and since when is it “adorable” for a guy to PUT YOU ON BLAST because you wouldn’t go out with him or take his number?? that’s… very weird. i’m sure she wouldn’t find it “adorable” if she wasn’t interested in the guy. but anyway, i’m pretty sure she just saw an opportunity here and she took it. she can’t handle being single for more than a month, she needed a new man to make people forget about her matty healy era. and she’s LOVING the good press she’s getting for being “America’s royal couple” as her fans are calling them. but does she actually LOVE HIM? that, I remain yet to be convinced about.

and I love this part. “We would never be psychotic enough to hard-launch a first date.”

yeah, taylor’s not CRAZY you guys, it’s not like she said “I love you” to matty healy on stage back in may before breaking up with him 2 weeks later. nah. it’s not like she immediately bought a house next to her teenage boyfriend connor kennedy who was STILL IN HIGH SCHOOL when she started dating him. nah. that would be CRAZY. PSYCHOTIC even!!

and here comes the part where she starts passive aggressively smearing joe and we all know she’s on a smear campaign against joe now but it’s kind of pathetic that even while winning PERSON OF THE YEAR she has to make it about that.

so taylor obviously has a lot to say about her new relationship, and how proud they are of each other. but you know what I DON’T hear her saying? “I’m in love” or “I’m happy with him.”

and personally, i think that speaks volumes. if she was truly HAPPY with her new man she wouldn’t be doing all this shit. if you were around when taylor broke up with calvin and then immediately started hard-launching hiddleswift, taking pap photo after pap photo and being extremely “happy” she was and meeting his mom and all that shit…. and if you don’t see the parallels between what she’s doing NOW with travis, you’re either a blind fan or just flat out stupid.

because at least when she started dating joe she actually left her exes alone (at least for a little while), she was like “I forget their names now.” and you can tell she was happy without having to make a big show of it- “nobody’s heard from me for months, I’m doing better than I ever was.”

but now she’s acting like it’s the worst thing ever that she was “locking herself in her house for a lot of years,” and she KNOWS that her fans are going to take that and blame joe for it.

JUST LOOK at the quotes and replies of this tweet and this tweet to see how those insane fucking swifties are acting over this. EVERYTHING she does now is an incitement against joe and she knows it, it’s deliberate, it’s calculated.

and i guess she’s gotta bury him while she continues hanging out with a sexual abuse apologist so she can look like she has some kind of moral high ground.

also, the way she’s trying to erase the fact that 11 of the 15 songs on reputation were LOVE SONGS about joe, not “a goth-punk moment of female rage at being gaslit by an entire social structure.”

this woman is just narcissistic and straight up DELUSIONAL at this point. she’s so far up her own ass it’s nauseating. but i really hope that she keeps on talking. because the more she talks, the more people realise what a narcissistic clown she is. 🤡

#anti taylor swift #shit swifties say #<<<< at the links if you dare to click them #taylor’s narcissism is not covert it’s OVERT at this point #i blame that one stupid fucking swiftie who tried to say that taylor was punk #taylor just set herself up so badly #joe alwyn #free joe alwyn #shit taylor says #goth punk my ass #reference post

[under-cotton-and-calicos]

Take Me Back To Eden

Multiple Ghosts x AFAB Reader

AN: It’s been a long while. I’ve been busy [insert unhinged ao3 author life update here]. This has been sitting in my drafts for the LONGEST time jeez. Wasn’t really satisfied with any of the directions it took so I finally sat down and committed to something. May or may not have a sequel. I recommend listening to “Descending” by Sleep Token while you read this. As the title implies, I’m kinda obsessed with the band right now. Enjoy!

tags: cult sex, orgy, heavy dubcon, ghosts, ancient deity, mind manipulation, oral sex, vaginal penetration, rough sex, WEIRD CUM

Word count: 3.9k

With a pathetic sputter, the incessant humming of your old corolla’s engine gives way to silence. For a few moments, you sit in the dark and quiet, a mixture of excitement and anxiety raising goosebumps on your skin. You’ve done this hundreds of times, you’re sure that today you’re going to get your big hit. It has to be.

You slam your car door shut and take a deep breath, a gym bag filled with equipment and cameras slung over one shoulder, your free hand guiding the beam of your heavy duty torch across the entrance of the abandoned bar. The old, faded sign perched above its entrance is unreadable, faintly you can make out traces of looping letters. Its battered and dusty exterior belies the rumours you’ve heard about the place.

You were supposed to come with your posse, but every single one of them had work or family issues that cropped up at the last minute. Not one to be deterred by fear, you ended up making the drive down alone. In spite of the cool night, your skin is warm with anticipation as you cross the threshold and slip into the bar.

Not much is known about its origins or history- it’s a small, rundown lot in a slow and quiet part of town, so no one has ever paid it much attention. It had been a hole-in-the-wall style pub that attracted a small and dedicated group of patrons before mysteriously closing abruptly. Hours of digging through the net gave you enough reason to suspect that there was an abnormal cause behind why it still hadn’t been bought out for decades, though. The reports of ghostly apparitions in the crevices of obscure forums led you down a rabbit hole. Soon enough, you managed to find a video posted online, taken by some teenagers roped in by a bet. You studied it for hours, pausing at every frame.

You can still remember the sweet thrill, the goosebumps that formed on your skin when you noticed the wispy, grey figures hidden behind corners in several frames. Jackpot. 

Your friends had told you that they were edited but your gut told you otherwise. There was a genuine fear in those kids’ eyes, you bet on it.

As you manoeuvre through old tables and chairs, you notice that the furniture is still well kept, barring the fact that everything is covered in layers of dust.The retro style bar, stools and shelves are all in good condition, though lacking bottles of booze and the typical drink making paraphernalia. Maybe someone still cares for the place? 

You notice a few doors that hadn’t been explored in the video, so you try each handle, one of them leading to an empty storage room, another leading to a kitchen behind the bar, the next to a decrepit restroom. Curiously, there’s a long stairway behind a stuffy curtain going down to what you presume is a basement door. There’s an inlaid symbol on the door, made from burnished golden metal, its fine quality at odds with everything else in the bar. You’ve never seen anything like it before- the silhouette of a tree firmly rooted to the earth, its branches and roots reminiscent of…horns?

There’s something compelling about it. Your stomach dips at the thought of you opening the door, but you want to. There’s something on the other side of it.

When you yank on the handle, it doesn’t budge, breaking you out of your momentary stupor. You shake your head and blink. 

Caught up in the moment?

“Damn.” You sigh. Typically, you would leave lockpicking to another one of your friends. There isn’t much you can do about it, so you decide to set up a few thermal cameras overlooking the tables and bar, as well as an REM pod for proximity detection on the countertop.

Kneeling behind the countertop, you turn on your spirit box, its harsh white noise filling the quiet. Through the static, you call into the night.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

There’s no response, but you introduce yourself and continue. You’re well accustomed to this pattern already, after years of this. The hauling of equipment, meticulously setting everything up, dicking around for a few hours and then packing up and heading home. Keep the time spent idle low, and expectations even lower. Perhaps it’s because you’re alone tonight. There’s a charge in the atmosphere, a certain secrecy and wonder to the ritual.

“I'd really like it if you told me your name.”

“Like.” The artificial, crackly word emerges from the static.

“Yes, I’d like it if you introduced yourself too.” You wait a few more moments before the next word. For a while, monosyllabic words are all you receive. So you dig and prompt until you tag onto something.

“More.”

“More?”

“M…More tha-an.” 

“There’s more than one of you?” You say, peering around the empty bar. There’s no sign of the specters from the video, only swirling mites of dust suspended in the air under the glow of your torchlight. “Where are you?”

“H-Here.”

Suddenly, your REM pod flashes green, red, blue against the shadows, signalling that something is close by, very close by. But instead of its typical bleeping, a warbled wail echoes through the empty bar, causing you to flinch from how loud it is. The fuck?

You turn around and direct your torch towards the pod. Your heart falters.

A crowd of grey specters are standing behind the counter, their forms towering over where you’re kneeled on the ground. Their bodies are featureless, rippling as though they could blink out of existence at any moment, at odds with the physical realm. For a second, you can’t bring yourself to do anything. You feel dread, you're stunned, but underneath it all, the irrational, ghost hunting geek in you is baffled. Holy shit, holy shit.

You jump to your feet, backed against the shelves. Their heads tilt upwards, following your movement. And then you’re fleeing, terror driving you to run from the very situation that you’ve been chasing down for years.

The moment you’re behind the steering wheel, you step on the gas, your corolla protesting as it's jolted out of its sleep and forced to shoot down the empty street. You don’t stop to turn and look.

“Wait.” A real voice overlaps with the one coming from your spirit box still clutched in your sweaty palm, but you don’t stop, turning the corner around the countertop and passing through an ethereal, translucent arm reaching out to stop you. You burst out of the bar into the cooler night air and shakily jam your key into your car, cursing as you struggle to get the door open.

Holy shit, you chant over and over again, they’re real, they’re real!

⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩

Your alarm wakes you from a restless slumber, one of many in the past few months. With a groan, you fumble for your phone with your eyes still closed and turn it off. 

“Fuck…” You curse at the soreness in your back and slick between your legs. It happened again last night.

Tugging your underwear down, you stare at the sticky mess you’d created in your sleep. Glimpses of your dream, or nightmare, flash through your head, sending a quiver down your spine. Your breath hitches at the thought, you palm your stiff nipples through your ratty old shirt and begin fingering your cunt, warm and dripping wet. 

You’ve been tormented by a string of dreams lately, each one leaving you aching in the morning. So much so that you have had to incorporate masturbation into your morning routine. It’s never satisfying though, your fingers and toys don’t come even close to what you experience in the nasty recesses of the dreamscape hidden in your mind. All of them are vivid and realistic, but when you wake, you can only recall little snatches- greedy hands taking their fill of your body and being bent over, being filled…being defiled.

And with your equipment left at the bar, what can you do? There is no evidence of your findings. You can’t tell your friends that you’ve been having wet dreams almost incessantly since that night alone in the bar. You would seem like a lunatic.

But it wouldn’t be wrong to call this a kind of madness. Frantic and possessive. Bodies cast in vibrant colour, shadowed and swaying against you. Cast in the black behind your eyelids is a gold insignia, beckoning you closer and closer.

With a whimper, you cum, body folding over and shaking as you ride out your climax. Temporarily satiated, you slump back into your pillows dramatically, staring at your ceiling. Something from that bar had followed you home. And you want to go back.

⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩

The empty district is just as quiet as it was the last time you were here. It’s a cold night, and you tug your sweater around your shoulders as you lean back in your car seat. It’s undeniable that you’re a little scared- you feel like one of those idiot teenagers in horror movies that get themselves killed for wandering recklessly into danger. Again, something tells you that it’s different. Or maybe you’re just horny.

With your torch in one hand and your phone in the other, you enter the bar. All of your equipment is just as you left it. You trace your finger over the REM pod on the countertop, dusty but intact. It’s…quiet.

What did you expect? To get jumped the moment you came in? There’s no sign of the specters as well. You’re a bit disappointed, because it means that those dreams you’ve been having might not have been supernatural at all, and worse, the specters might have been a figment of your imagination.

Just as you resolve to pack up your things and leave, a sliver of light catches your eye, cast against the dark floor. Purple light streams between the curtains that lead to the locked basement. Your heart begins to pick up pace again, and you rush over, brushing aside the thick, heavy fabric to see the stairway down illuminated. The door is open!

“H-Hello?” You call out, flicking your torchlight off and leaning it against a step. With hesitant steps, you descend, eyes adjusting to the dim artificial light. You know this atmosphere, this tension in the air from the distinctive purple haze of your dreams. Almost instinctively, your core warms and you can feel yourself shiver, a conditioned response.

 When you reach the base of the stairs, your breath stalls in your throat and you can’t help the whimper that escapes your lips. The same apparitions that have been haunting your dreams are there, facing you, as if waiting for your inevitable return. Your nervous eyes scan the rest of the room, it looks like you’ve stepped into another realm entirely- gone are the cheap and neon plastics of the bar, there’s a pool of fabrics and pillows, and an altar, carved from stone with tall pillars of candles by its sides.

Dazed, you don’t realise that you’ve been walking until you’re a few feet in front of the specters, their heads following you uncannily. 

“I-I…” You sputter, jittery under their heavy, obscured gaze. They haven’t even done anything to you yet, but your head is all cotton and gauze. Slowly, you sink to your knees.

“My dreams. I’ve seen you there.” You say, awe-struck. A delicate voice replies, soft as a gossamer sheet.

“I am glad that you’ve returned.” It confuses you. You’re not sure if the voice is coming from one of the specters before you or if it’s echoing through your head, like you’re on a phone call with someone in the same room as you. Up close, their forms are ethereal, shimmering and tinted purple from the lights, shifting ever-so-slightly.

You can still make out the shape of a mouth and a nose on their faces, as well as outlines of their limbs and hands. One reaches out to you, fitting the curve of your cheek in the palm of their hand- your eyes widen at the touch, it feels real, cold but solid against you.

“Good one…pretty one…” They close around you, clamouring to touch you. A hand combs through your hair, traces the curve of your ear, another slides past the collar of your shirt to the dip between your shoulder blades, and one presses its fingers against your lips.

Strange, you think, opening your mouth obediently for the cold fingers to savour the wet warmth of your tongue. Every cell in your body is alight, bristling with energy and ready to burst at the seams. This is what you’ve been wanting for so, so long. 

How could I have been terrified of them before this?

“More, more.” Not enough of you is exposed it seems. You shed your sweater, your hard nipples visible through thin fabric. The atmosphere bristles a bit, you think, as you finally discard your shirt, your breasts and inviting skin on display for them to grab at, their touch growing more hungry.

They whisper, trailing lower and lower. You close your eyes for just a moment, the jostling bodies around you giving way to darkness as you relish in the feeling of hands that grope your chest, firm nipples being pinched and tugged at, your bare body slowly becoming accustomed to their supernatural chill. Something bumps against your lips and you smile, opening your eyes once again to bat your eyelashes up at the specter that has its stiff cock in hand, unabashedly asking for entry.

You open wide, sticking your tongue out for the specter to slide its head against you. You think you hear a whimper, and you’re pleased to feel it twitching as you close your mouth around it, humming as you bob your head and take more of its length down your throat. It’s solid, hard like a human’s, and you can feel the bump of veins trailing down its shaft. Behind you, one kneels down and presses its torso up against your back, a hand cupping your soaking sex and another kneading your breast. 

“Here…!” Two more specters hovering over you tug at your arms impatiently, wrapping your hands around their own dicks. Obliging their requests, you stroke them lazily, eyes flitting between all of the spirits that surround you. The ones that are not latched to your body stand a short distance away, fisting themselves, undoubtedly staring at you get busy. Underneath their innumerable gaze, you’re exhilarated, and a thought flits through your mind- they’ll all have a chance to run you through later, and you’ll be able to experience it all in reality. 

The specter shoves two fingers into your needy hole, grinding them against your sweet spot. You falter, but the specter that’s in your mouth clamps its hands around your head, sinking so deep that your face is flush with their crotch. The two rut into your tightened grip, gasping and groaning fills your head.

“So good…so good…Ah!” 

When a finger flicks at your clit, you cum hard, body arching and thighs quaking. You’re stunned momentarily, and you swallow back the spit pooling in your throat, squeezing around the specter. Suddenly, its grip in your hair grows stronger, bordering on pain as it cums too, cold, thick liquid shooting into the back of your throat and covering your tongue. It tastes like nothing, you note, gasping for air when it detaches from you and releases its grip on your head.

What catches you off guard is the colour of its seed, a thick white substance that drips down your chin onto the floor between your legs, giving off an otherworldly glow. Immediately, another takes its place- the one on the right that had you fisting its cock guides it into your mouth and plugs you up again. This one is less patient, it holds you in place and fucks into your mouth. They use you like a sex toy, taking turns occupying your hands and mouth, grabbing at your chest and fingering your cunt. Any hesitation or endearing nervousness that occupied the specters has disappeared, and you’re elated. You lose count of how many have cum on you, they spill on your face, your chest, covering you in their ungodly semen. It becomes a dizzying cycle, and between your climaxes and theirs’, you lavish them with all that you can give, just as you did in your dreams. What you can take down your throat, you do gladly, an appreciative hum is your reward when you obediently swallow and accept the spurts of cum onto your body.

Suddenly, after a specter smears its cum across your tits, you’re pulled to your feet. Shaky and tired legs unable to support your body, you’re carried over to the altar that you saw earlier and laid upon it. It’s the perfect height, and you groan as a specter grinds its cock against your wet folds. Your legs are spread wide apart, and the empty spaces around you are quickly taken by eager spirits. They pause though, and seem to wait for something patiently. A name is called, something unintelligible, not in the human tongue, not anything you’ve heard before.

They say something in an alien tongue, and look upwards to the ceiling. There is something you didn’t notice before, the same sigil as the one on the door is painted there. In a split second, a collage of memories are made clear in your mind’s eye- you see offerings of wine and food, people kneeling before hulking statues and trees, orgies in secluded areas where hedonism flourishes, lush with the scent of sex and flowers.

The specter between your legs breaks you out of your reverie, and you’re suddenly in the basement once again, fully aware of your dripping cunt, the need. There’s an energy in the room that wasn’t there previously, charged and crackling. You groan when it fits its bulbous head against your entrance, hands kneading the flesh of your thighs as it enters you. And finally, finally you are one with them. You stare entranced at where you are joined, its thick, translucent cock stretching your starved cunt.

“Fuck me, please.” You rasp, throwing your head back when it begins to thrust into you, setting a brutal pace. Again, the specters crowd around you and put you to work. Closing your eyes, you lose yourself in the wave of pleasure, the friction of the heavy cock in your pussy, the numerous hands that guide you and delight in the touch of your skin.

“You…you…” The voice bristles in your head, and there it is again- snatches of that scene and the voice, it’s getting stronger. You can barely focus, between the ghostly bodies all around you and the thread of a connection to It. They’re both equally addictive- the delicious stretch and fill, the wandering hands all over your overstimulated body, and the irresistible draw to something powerful and primordial. Closer, closer, closer.

The specter fucking into you quivers, its pace quickening and its thrusts growing shallower. It’s about to cum inside you, and you wrap your legs around its translucent torso to force it even deeper inside. In response, its hands grab your hips with so much force that you’re sure they’re going to bruise.

“Perfect.” The word is whispered into the shell of your ear, low but with the power of a command. Instantly, you feel like euphoria has flooded your body, too much of it. Every sensation is painfully amplified, the bliss of each thrust between your legs rapturous and overwhelming. You cum, and the specter does too, you can feel its cold seed like ice in your hot, hot cunt, flooding you, seeping into your being. Every cell in your body is screeching from pleasure so high that it hurts. 

“Oh. Too much?” 

There’s tears streaming down your cheeks. Your thoughts are melting together and no words form on your tongue, all you can manage is a pathetic nod as your body seizes in agony and orgasmic bliss.

“Apologies, it’s been a while.” It says, and just as quick as it compelled you, the euphoria is sapped from your body. The relief is another form of pleasure, and as you relax, you feel a gush of liquid seep past where you’re joined to the specter- you’re squirting, a puddle of it forming on the altar and dripping onto the floor. 

“Sensitive, aren’t you?” It whispers again, cool and calm as you gasp for breath. “I like it.”

“What…what-” You’re cut off by the specter dragging its cock out of you, leaving you gaping for the next one in line. You let out a high-pitched whine as the mix of semen and your slick spills out of you. As though to comfort you, one specter cradles your cheek and promptly nudges its dick past your lips. They seem to be oblivious to the conversation going on, or they carry on in spite of it.

“Don’t think. Just let go.” Another cock is thrust into you, barely giving you any reprieve as it pounds into you, intent on getting you filled again.

What are you?

“A vague question gets you a vague answer.” It tuts, “I am the bliss that found its way into your dreams, the cruelty that left you wanting more, and the hunger that brought you back here to me.”

Hands reach out to pinch and twist your nipples and clit, forcing you to let out a muffled yelp.

“It hardly seems fair for you to pay little attention to those who have been fucking you so vigorously. Well, given that you can’t form a coherent thought, the ones that have you speared on their cocks are my most devoted followers. They have been so gracious as to offer their spirits for my perusal.”

And now you understand- it’s a god, an ancient deity on the ceiling looking down upon you, casting its impartial and frigid gaze on this debauchery, orchestrated for its sake.

“And you, my little pleasure, are the first taste of life I’ve had down here in a long time.” Its tone has a vicious bite, excitement palpable. At that, the specters, or puppets in you cum, the elation of their master influencing their own pleasure, no doubt. You choke around the cock forced down your throat, cutting off your breathing until it pulls free from you and you choke down air and seed.

You’re so replete, so tired, you’re not sure whether you can take anymore-

“You will.” 

Warily, you sweep your gaze across the hoard of hungry spirits hunched over you.

“After all, isn’t this what you wanted?”

Throughout the night, you’re used over and over, your poor cunt fucked and filled more times than you can count. Just as you think it may end, another specter is between your legs, alternating between lapping up the mess between your legs and pumping its seed into you again. All while some ancient and cruel god speaks to you. With each climax, you feel your consciousness slipping further away, the teasing and praise of the voice in your ear growing ever more distant…

When you wake, you’re exhausted. The specters had disappeared, leaving you on the altar. Despite the throbbing in your core and muscles, you manage to pull your clothes back on and make your way up the stairs, the unpleasant stickiness of your skin urging you to get home as soon as possible so you can take a shower.

A draft sends a chill down your spine, a whisper like a caress brushes past you.

I’ll see you soon, little pleasure.

You’re relieved to see your corolla on the streetside, and as you limp to your car you make a mental note to pack up your equipment the next time you’re here.

#monster x reader #monster x human #terato #monster lover #terato writing #monster nsft #nsft #cult stuff #COTTON HAS FINALLY POSTED SOMETHING #HUZZAH!!!!! #exophilia

[8siangemini]

Poison

Picked Your Poison

(Earth 42 Miles x Black Cat!Reader)

Summary: You, Black Cat, scoffed, laughed, spatted on the government and the police force. It was pathetic and had nothing on you. But what will being forced into a partnership with someone with an opposite ideology do to yours?

Author’s Note: HEYYY POOKIESSS Here’s my new series coming up and tbh idk where it’s going so just give me some recommendations for scenarios down below or just message my inbox :) also for anyone who wants to be in the taglist js comment down below

“You want me to do what?” You appalled your father.

“I want you to partner up with someone.” Your father said again.

Something about your life as Black Cat was that you did not work with partners on the field. You did not want to feel like you were babysitting or watching after someone and their stupid slip ups. You did everything with grace and perfection.

“And who is that?” You stand up from your seat and cross your arms.

Just then from the shadows of the big empty library of your home emerged a man. Tall and thin with a bald head. He made his way by your father’s side. You looked at them confused and then pointed to the unknown man but his father shook his head.

“Nah not me. I’m the one that trained your partner.” The man explained.

“Not my partner.” You mumbled underneath your breath in aggression.

“They are actually here, right now.” Your father explains.

You already knew who it was. There was no one on the ground around you, there was no one else in the building, well until now. They’re on the ceiling, you knew only one vigilante who had this style of stealth and this level of skill as well as you. The Prowler.

You look up and see the Prowler hanging upside down with his feet planted on the ceiling with his arms crossed.

You and the Prowler’s style were so different. The Prowler emitted this sense of intimidation and forced justice but also a picture of new hope for Brooklyn. He’s the police force Brooklyn wished they had. But Black Cat made the government look pathetic by taking on big heists that made history, even at your young teenage career. Black Cat laughed at the police force and caused chaos in Brooklyn. Whatever Black Cat destroyed the Prowler tried to fix.

He detached from the ceiling and flipped and landed on his wet quietly. He stood up straight next to your side and stood taller than you. Something struck you.

“Wait if y’all know each other?” You ask your father and the unknown man. “Then does that mean you know our…” Your voice trailed.

Your father and the man nodded. You looked in shock and looked up at the Prowler. They knew your identities. Another person knows about your identity besides your father, and possibly the man standing next to you.

The mask stared at you and it soon began retracting. A face revealed, a face you knew damn well from school. The playboy of Visions Academy, Miles G. Morales. Underneath your silver metal chrome eye mask your eyes widened.

The infamous Miles Morales. The boy that has a new girl on his lips every week, living an alternate life. Every time your school’s morning announcements talked about the Prowler they were talking about him, the same boy in your studio art class.

All while Miles couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Your body in your tight black suit that was slightly unzipped at the neck showing your neck and part of your chest, utility straps on your thighs and legs, matching all with Panda Dunks. Your wide chrome masked covered your eyes as he saw himself through them like a mirror.

You then made your mask retracting and formed at the side of your temples.

And in the slightest way you see Miles jump in shock and his eyes widened. His eyes scanned up and down your body.

Miles was in shock, the girl he was just admiring her body is the same girl from his art class. He blushed slightly in embarrassment.

“Golden girl (Y/n) (L/n).” Miles comments as he puts his hands into his jacket. You then put your hands on your hips.

“Playboy Miles Morales.” You said with venom.

“You know him?” Your father asks.

“Yeah he goes to school with me.” You respond without breaking eye contact with Miles.

You and Miles’ glared at each other, trying to fight for dominance. Just then Miles finally broke gaze and looked at the adults. You chuckled to yourself.

“You two are going finally put the police in place.” Your father explained.

“You both know how fucked up the police force is.” Miles’ mentor pitched in.

“It’s pathetic-“

“It’s unjust-“

You’re shocked. You look at Miles and Miles’ head snaps towards you as well. Both of you looked at each other in confusion as well as shock. You knew of the Prowler’s ideal of vigilante and making the wrongs in the police force right by saving crime in the way he sees suit, but you didn’t see how passionate he was about it.

While you on the other hand laughed at the police force and government. You took the fucked up system and bent it for you to commit crimes without serving the time.

“We will have meetings regularly about your guys’ actions.” Your father explained. “But until we make our move, you two get acquainted with each other.”

The two men began walking towards the door. Once they were out the door the door closed with a loud thud. And like a switch you began building your boundaries.

“Ok listen here you fucking prick,” you quickly turn your body towards Miles with your arms crossed. Miles turned towards you too.

“Just cause you and me gon be working together doesn’t mean I’m gon be one of your lil girls aight? This thing,” you motion between you and Miles. “Don’t mean you gon get anything from me.”

Miles crosses his arms and steps closer with you with a smirk. You didn’t falter from your spot as you glared up at him with crossed arms.

“You know,” Miles brings his hand up to your chin. “It’s hot when you yell at me.”

“And I bet I ain’t the first one to.”

You snear at him and swat his hand harshly. Sadly it only made him smirk more and he gripped your wrist firmly as he tried to pull you in closer.

“Nahh you the first one to put me in my place.”

Miles face was so close to yours as he looked at your pissed off expression with a smirk. You were fuming, there was no way you could work with a guy like him. Your guys’ ideologies are so different. But you knew how you can push his buttons, push him to the edge.

A smirk came to your face as you stepped closer to him. His eyes widened slightly at the sudden closeness.

“And don’t expect this to be the last time.” You whisper against him.

Your chrome clawed glove dragged along his sharp jawline. Your hand falling down his next all while holding eye contact. His breath was stuck in his throat, he didn’t know how to reach. Miles never had a girl act so bold towards him. His body melted into your nail and into your hand.

Your hand fell down to his chest as you noticed his sudden ease. Your smirk fell off your face as you roughly planted your hand to his chest and pushed him away from you. His breath is pushed out of his lungs harshly at your sudden shove. He stumbles back a couple feet as you begin walking away from him with your back to him.

His eyes falling to the curve of your spine. He knew now that in the day you were miss perfect student. But in the night, you were dangerous, dangerous to society and to him.

“You’ve picked your poison, Morales.” You said bitterly.

#miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #spider man across the spider verse #spider man #spiderman #miles morales #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x black cat!reader

[cozage]

The Daughter's Return: Month 5

The Road to Love

Part One | Next Chapter | Table of Contents | Read on AO3

This idea was sent to me by Anonymous! CW: kinda long but it's from Ace's perspective! Characters: female reader x Portgas D. Ace Word Count: 5.2k

From the moment Ace heard your name, he was intrigued. 

“It’s a crazy story,” Thatch said as everyone sat down around him. “The Clandine Incident was one of the main reasons Y/N’s bounty skyrocketed. She’s got one of the highest bounties on the ship, especially for her age.”

Blamenco chortled. “She’s only got a big bounty cuz-”

“Though she’s always been a legend,” Marco said, cutting off Blamenco and ignoring his words. “The Navy has been trying to figure out who keeps ruining their plans for years. They just never expect it to be a teenage girl. It’d be higher if they knew everything she actually did.”

“Right,” Kingdew laughed. “They underestimate her because of her reckless appearance to them. They think she improvises everything she does.”

Ace raised his eyebrow. “How so?”

Izou hummed, knowing that the crew’s praise for you would have repercussions. This new crewmember seemed a little too interested in you. Still, Izou decided to indulge him. It’d be interesting to see where this all went. 

“The Clandine Incident is the best example,” Izou said. “The Navy had captured about forty of our men. It was looking bad. However, they had captured non-devil fruit users, so they were all in metal cages for transport.”

Marco interrupted and took over the story. “Because so many of Whitebeard’s men had been captured, almost all of the Navy’s forces had been called back to escort the prisoners to ships to be hauled off to Impel Down. Which left their defenses low, and we could launch an assault on our actual target and free a royal member of an island we watched over. They didn’t even have time to call reinforcements before the prince was released.”

“She and Marco led the operation to free the prisoners.” Thatch grinned ear to ear, staring at the first division commander. “I heard things got quite messy, but they got in and out without any fatalities.”

“Messy?” Ace inquired, nudging his friend to tell him more. “How so?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Marco grumbled. “Just a few messes I had to clean up.”

Thatch cackled. “If I recall, it was Y/N who did the cleaning up, not the other way around!”

Marco rolled his eyes. “She’s always the one to make the sacrifice play, and she got mad when I wouldn’t let her do it. I swear she’s careful with everyone’s life but her own. ”

Ace could relate, which only made him even more interested in meeting you. “When’s she get back?” he asked, unable to hide the enthusiasm in his voice. 

The whole table erupted into laughter at his question. 

“She’s off limits, dude,” Vista said, giving Ace an empathetic pat on the shoulder. “If you try anything, Pops will kill you.”

“Pops wouldn’t get the chance,” Thatch said. “Marco would get you first.”

“Sorry man, they’re right. I know you’re my brother-” Marco smiled and shook his head. “But she’s outta your league anyway. Don’t even try it.”

“Look at him getting all protective!” Fossa bellowed, and the table erupted in laughter again. 

Ace gave a confused smile, looking around the table. It was clear he was missing something. Something obvious that everyone else seemed to be aware of.

“Go check the bounty poster room,” Curiel whispered, giving him a little nudge. “You’ll figure it out.”

Newgate. You were a Newgate. There was no chance in hell you’d ever even look his way. And if you knew who his father was…No, Whitebeard would never allow the son of his rival to date his only daughter. 

And yet, as he stared at your old bounty poster, he couldn’t help but think there was so much more to you than a name. 

--

Months later, Whitebeard stood towering over Ace. He had been called in for a meeting with his captain, and Ace was worried that he had screwed up big this time. 

“There’s something I should probably tell you, Ace.”

His voice didn’t sound upset, and Ace relaxed a bit. “What’s up Pops?”

“My daughter is returning home soon, which is quite a joyous occasion-”

Ace nodded. “I’m excited to meet her.”

Whitebeard watched the second division commander carefully. “There’s something I should warn you about.”

“Oh, Pops, don't even worry about that.” Ace’s cheeks were hot, embarrassed where this was going. Of course he knew about Ace’s flings and flirtations on the ship. Of course Whitebeard didn’t want him anywhere near you. “I’m not like that anymore. Besides, everyone has already told me.”

Whitebeard’s eyebrows knitted in confusion. “Told you what?”

“That Y/N is off limits. I shouldn’t interact with her or-”

Whitebeard laughed, his jolly expression returning at the absurdity of Ace’s comment. “Ace, son. I don’t care what you do in your free time. I don’t care what she does in her free time. My daughter is an adult. She can make her own decisions. I trust her with that ability. If I didn’t, she wouldn’t be my most valuable strategist.”

“Oh.” Ace suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable. He had never read a situation more incorrectly than he had in this moment. “Then what did you want to talk about?”

“My daughter,” Whitebeard said, still chuckling. “She can be…intense. And unfortunately, I believe she may take out some of that intensity on you.”

It was Ace’s turn to be confused. “Why?”

“Well…” Whitebeard’s eyes flicked towards the door nervously. “I promised her the second division commander spot before she left. But clearly, that’s been filled since she’s been gone.”

“Oh!” Ace said. “I can step do-”

“No.” Whitebeard's voice was firm and final. “You are the second division commander. But I am placing her under your command.”

Ace’s mouth dropped open. He hadn’t been expecting that. He had expected Whitebeard to keep you as far away from him as possible. “Are you sure?”

“I believe you are most equipped to handle her.”

Ace laughed nervously. “Surely Marco. Or Thatch. Or Izou-”

“Are you not comfortable with it? I’d prefer she stay in division two for a few days to try it out. Would you like me to move her now instead?”

“No!” Ace rushed to say. “I’m honored to take her in my division. She’ll be a major asset.”

Whitebeard chuckled. “And a major pain in the ass at first. Give her some time, as a favor to me.”

Ace gave a nervous smile, unsure what exactly he was signing up for. “Sure, Pops. Anything-”

Suddenly a young woman burst through the door, storming up to his captain. Ace tensed, unsure of who you were or what was about to go down. 

“Y/N,” Whitebeard smiled, and Ace could feel himself start to sweat. He hadn’t expected this to all happen so soon. “You’re-”

“You bastard!” You screamed, pulling out a kunai. “You promised!”

Ace could hear the hurt in your voice, and he felt sorry for you. And then he started to feel sorry for himself. You couldn’t be the girl Marco had raved about, the cute girl in pigtails, who would do anything for a piece of chocolate. You couldn’t be the girl who had the skill set of a thousand men. 

You were far too rude to be the girl he imagined. Nobody talked to his father like that, especially not some entitled girl who thought it was her birthright. 

He threw a knife at your kunai, knocking it out of your hand. When you shot him a glare, he returned one back. He wasn’t going to let you intimidate him so easily. 

“Stay out of this, newbie,” you snapped at him. If this was how mad you were about a kunai, he didn’t want to imagine how mad you’d be when you found out about the position. 

You reached into your pouch and he lunged at you, grappling your wrists. He wouldn’t let you hurt or even attempt to intimidate his father, the person who saved him and called him his own. You had no idea how selfish you were being or how good you had it, and it made Ace’s blood boil. 

“I don’t know who you are,” Ace said, trying his best to sound intimidating. “But you have no right attacking Pops the moment you get on our ship.”

“Stay out of my affairs,” you snarled back. 

His grip on you started to feel hot, and for a moment he was afraid he had let his anger get the best of him. And then it began to heat up so much that he had to pull away. You were simply too hot to hold onto. 

You gave him a wicked grin of satisfaction, as if you were boasting about your victory in the small battle you momentarily had. But Ace was confused. How had you burned him? Nobody had managed to do that in a long time. Marco and the other commanders had talked about your ability before, but he had assumed it was just another type of fire or heat ability. 

And then he remembered something Marco had said. How you had gone up against the lava vice admiral once, and you burned hotter than even him. A volcano fruit, Ace remembered. Your heat far surpassed him. 

Oh, the two of you would make an interesting dynamic indeed. He was beginning to see why Pops had placed you under his command now. Ace wanted to know everything about you, and wanted to use you and your ability to his full advantage. He couldn’t wait to see what you could do, and what he could learn from you. He just had to get you on his side. 

Which was easier said than done. You weren’t exactly thrilled to meet him.

And then the welcome party happened, and you all were stargazing when you had fallen asleep. He wanted to lay there forever, but Marco had eventually found you all. The first division commander picked you up and began to walk away before he turned back for just a moment.

“You’re going to fall in love with her, aren’t you?” Marco asked. 

Ace scoffed in return. “I don’t fall in love.”

“Good,” Marco said. “Because she’ll break your heart.”

“Who’s to say I wouldn’t break hers?”

Marco glared at him, clutching you tighter to his chest. “If you even think about it, I’ll carry you out to sea and drop you in the ocean.”

Ace gave a light laugh, but quickly realized Marco was very serious in his threat. “Noted.”

“I’m serious, Ace,” Marco whispered. “Leave her alone. It won’t end well.”

Of course, he hadn’t listened, he was too captivated by you. After the election of new subordinate captains were solidified, Marco began switching his tune from warnings to encouragement, and Ace grew hopeful that you were interested in him. Marco even encouraged Ace to invite you to a party. But Marco was still clear: just because you needed friends didn’t mean you needed Ace.  

And then Ace understood. You were about to lose most of your childhood friends, and you would need a new support system. Still, Ace got his hopes up that maybe you would feel something eventually. But for now, Ace would be okay with friends, as long as you stuck around. 

A few nights later, he had really fucked up. He had taken Marco's advice, invited you to the party, and even made a bet with you about going drink for drink. And now, you were curled up against his chest, your skin warm against his. Every time you shifted or stretched, he found himself alert. He couldn’t sleep with you so close to him, his mind racing at one hundred miles per hour. You had wanted to sleep with him. Even if you hadn’t actually wanted to sleep with him, you did feel comfortable enough to fall asleep with him next to you. He didn’t know what to do. 

He wanted you. He wanted to be with you. He wanted to only belong to you. He had never felt this way about another person before, but he knew it was good and true and that he was yours. He would find a way to tell you and hope you felt the same way. You had fallen asleep in his arms, after all. That had to count for something. 

But the next morning you woke up in an unfamiliar place, and you had made it clear that while you appreciated his gentlemanly actions, you wanted nothing more. And so he held his tongue and went to the meeting he was summoned for, sleeping through the entire thing, wishing he was still in bed. Wishing you were still in his arms. 

And then you had been offered a job by your father, one that would take you away from division two. Take you away from him. It took Ace every ounce of self-restraint not to question his captain. Why would he hurt him like this? Why would he let you and Ace get so close, just to take you away?

Instead, he went to you, begging for you to stay in the most vulnerable way he knew how. He would’ve done anything, answered any question if it meant you would stay with him just a little bit longer. The two of you had become friends. That’s how he felt, at least. He wasn’t sure how you felt, but he had to hope. And you stayed. You chose him, and his heart continued to burn only for you.

The subordinate captains’ goodbye party was a testament to your planning skills. It had mostly been for Whitey, but it wouldn’t have been obvious if he didn’t know you. And maybe he didn’t. After all, he didn’t pin you as the kind of girl to make out with just anyone after a game of shots. Not that he cared anyway. You had made it clear you didn’t want more than a professional relationship with him. 

And yet, he still felt rather irritated by it all. He found himself receding from the party, deciding to find a quiet place to lean against the railing and stare out to sea in thought. He tried not to think about you, but all he could see was that red-haired boy and your lips smashed together. It should’ve been him there doing 5 shots with you. It should’ve been him getting a victory kiss. Not that little red-haired punk. 

“Berry for your thoughts?” Whitey said, leaning on the railing next to Ace. 

Ace looked over at her, startled. Whitey hadn’t talked to him since their fallout. She hadn’t even acknowledged his presence. And yet here she was, talking to him. She had to be drunk. It was the only explanation. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Whitey griped, though she wasn’t looking at him. “I know I’ve been shitty. But I’m not here to talk about us. I’m here to talk about you.”

“I actually wanted to find you,” Ace admitted. “I’m sorry about everything I put you through. That wasn’t fair and-”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Whitey let out a deep sigh and then continued. “You’re only apologizing because you know you might never see me again. And while I appreciate the sentiment, I don’t want it.”

“It’s not because you’re leaving,” Ace corrected. “It’s because-”

Ace hesitated. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be this vulnerable with Whitey for multiple reasons. He didn’t want to open old wounds. He didn’t want her passing it on to you. He didn’t want her to laugh.

“Go on,” Whitey said, finally turning at looking at Ace. She didn’t look upset or angry. In fact, she looked like she knew exactly what he was going to say. 

“It’s because I know how you feel now,” he confessed. “And it feels really shitty. And I’m sorry.”

“We both wanted different things in that moment,” Whitey said. “I’m sorry for the part I played too.”

Ace shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“Yeah, I do.” Whitey laughed and took a long drink of her ale. “Hold on to that person that’s making you feel that way, though. She’s really special.”

Ace froze, worried she was going to tease him. But Whitey just gave him a friendly wink and left him alone.

Marco found him a few minutes later. “Commanders and Strategists. Let’s roll.”

Ace frowned. He wasn’t ready to see you again. He was still upset about your public flirtation with someone else. Maybe you were his karma, but he still hated it. 

“Come on, lover boy. It’ll be fine.” Marco chuckled, pulling Ace back to the party. He was going to have to face you sooner or later, he knew that. 

Luckily, the evening only went up from there. 

--

Less than 24 hours later, the two of you were off on an impromptu mission. It was just the two of you, really. Kala and Mihal were coming too, but you all wouldn’t be together for long. 

He would get you all to himself. Away from your father’s watchful gaze, Marco’s interference, and any boy who might have a crush on you. It would just be the two of you. 

It had been fun, until women began crowding him, asking for dances. His heart broke a little bit when you told him to dance with them, but he listened. He had come here to spend the night with you, not with these snobby women who were dressed in gowns that were worth more than all the money he ever had as a child. But every time he looked for you, you were there, looking as beautiful and radiant as he had ever seen you.

Then you disappeared, and his heart beat out of his chest as he broke off a dance to search for you. He found you being led away by some pompous asshole who had been staring at you all night, and his stomach churned at the thought of what that man would try to pull once you were alone with him. 

He hadn’t meant to make a scene. He was just so upset. He should’ve never left you sitting alone at that table. To hell with all of those women. To hell with everyone here. You were the only one who mattered to him. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, and the hairs on Ace’s neck stood up. 

And then you slapped him. Hard. Like you really, truly meant it. And as you began screaming at him, he slowly realized he would now have to be the decoy. 

Some Marines grabbed his arms and hauled him away, but he couldn’t take his eyes from you, burying your face in that horrible man’s coat as you sobbed fake tears. 

They set him in a chair and an official sat across from him. Ace had no idea who it was. If you were here, you would’ve been able to tell him his rank, name, weakness, and everything else he needed to know. But you were tucked away somewhere upstairs. Safe, hopefully. 

“Listen son,” the man said, and Ace gritted his teeth. The only person who could call him son was Whitebeard, but he kept his mouth shut. The man didn’t seem to notice Ace’s seething rage, thankfully, and he continued. “I’m sure there was just a miscommunication. Why don’t you give me your commanding officer and we’ll get it all sorted out.”

“Commanding officer?” Ace questioned. He didn’t know any names. How could he have forgotten to do this? He should’ve paid more attention as you were pointing people out. 

“And your name and rank.”

Ace hadn’t thought of any of those things. He hadn’t expected you all to get caught. Or at least, he had expected you to do all the lying for him. 

“Kaclin McGrought, Captain,” Ace said. It was the first thing that came to his mind. “My Commanding officer is…”

Shit. Why could he only think of Garp? That would give him away immediately. Plus, Garp was here. They could just go ask him, and his cover would immediately be blown.

“My commanding officer is Clemence,” Ace tried to sound confident, like he knew exactly what he was talking about. 

“Clemence?” 

“From the East Blue?” Ace asked, raising his eyebrow. “Sir Clemence the Second? Surely you know him?”

The man nodded at a pair of lieutenants by the door, and they swiftly exited the room. Ace didn’t have a good feeling about any of this. He could only hope they weren’t heading to find and capture you. He could only hope you had come up with a better cover story. 

A few minutes later, one of the lieutenants came back and bent down to whisper something in his interrogator's ear. 

“So McGrought…” The man stared at Ace long and hard, and he knew he had been caught. “You and your commander don’t seem to exist. Why don’t you tell us who you really are?”

Ace swallowed, trying to clear the lump in his throat. He wasn’t so nervous for himself, but he hated not knowing about your status. “Who I really am?”

One good thing would come out of this, at least. The Navy would know his name now. At least they would know his power, and his position. He wouldn’t be some “failed rookie” amongst their conversations. 

“Son-”

“Portgas D. Ace, Second Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates.” Ace erupted into flames, and most of the people took a few steps back from the heat. “And don't call me son.”

With that, he threw off his shirt, turned, and jumped out the stained glass window. He wanted the last thing they saw to be his father’s symbol.

As he burst through the window, he only had one thought on his mind: he had to get to you. He had to make sure you were okay. 

That was the first and last time Ace underestimated your strategy ability. Even as you all spoke to his grandfather, even as you raced through the woods and spent the night in a borrowed house, he couldn’t help but admire just how brilliant you were. 

As the two of you walked through the town and snuck onto the beach, as you changed your plan on a dime and found a way to make it work, as you taunted a Vice Admiral, he couldn’t help but smile giddily, knowing you were his. And he was yours. 

He would have to tell Whitebeard, of course. He should’ve been more concerned about his fate, but he felt invincible, watching you as you slept on the boat ride back to the ship. You were together. Nothing could stop him now. 

Standing in front of Whitebeard was a much different feeling. But he needed to tell him. Not just because it was protocol, but because Whitebeard was one of the few men Ace respected in this world. He deserved to know.

“We’re dating.” He couldn’t bring himself to look at either of your faces when he spoke the words. He didn’t want to see his initial reaction, and he didn’t want to see your wrath. 

Whitebeard sent you out immediately, which was probably the best outcome. Ace could probably handle one angry Newgate. But there was no way he’d survive two of you angry at him. 

Ace could feel Whitebeard’s eyes on him, but he refused to look back. He was afraid of the disappointment he’d see if he looked. 

He stared at his feet instead. “I like her quite a lot, Pops. I’ve never felt like this before.”

“Ace. Son. Look at me.” 

Ace looked up, and was shocked to find Whitebeard staring at him with a glimmer in his eye. He looked…proud? No, that couldn’t be. Ace was so certain that he would only be met with pushback and disgrace. 

“I told you when she first got here,” Whitebeard smiled. “My daughter makes her own decisions. She’s old enough to do that, and I’ll respect whatever decisions she makes.”

Ace couldn’t find the words he wanted to express. A part of him wanted to cry. A part of him wanted to ask a hundred questions. 

“I’ll never hurt her,” Ace swore. “I’ll always protect her, I swear.”

Whitebeard chuckled. “You can’t promise both of those things in the same breath, son. So be careful with your words. Because she will hold you to them. She never forgets a promise. So don’t go making promises you can’t keep.”

“Yes sir,” Ace said, silently cursing himself for promising such grandiose things. “I will keep that in mind.”

“There’s one thing I’d like you to avoid mentioning to her, though. Just for the time being.”

“Of course, Pops! Anything!”

Whitebeard hummed and scratched at his mustache. It was clear he didn’t like what he was about to request, but it had to be done. 

“Don’t tell her about the circumstances around your birth.”

Ace blinked. He was about to respond, but Whitebeard continued. “If it comes up naturally, you can tell her about it. But don’t tell her unless she asks.”

“Sure, Pops,” Ace said. A piece of him was relieved he had a reason to keep that information from you. He knew you didn’t like Roger much, and he didn’t want your opinion of him scarred by his father’s legacy. “Can I ask why?”

“It’s dangerous for anyone who knows of your heritage. And the more people who know, the more likely it is to get to the Navy. I trust my daughter of course, but I’d rather not put her at an unnecessary risk.”

“Of course,” Ace agreed. “That’s the last thing I want. I just want her safe. And I promise to do everything in my power to keep her from harm."

Whitebeard nodded. “Very well. Now, if we could go over the mission, I’d like a full report of last night.”

Ace’s brow knitted in confusion, and he glanced back at the door. “Is that really all? You don’t want to-”

“I told you, son. I trust my daughter. Whatever decisions she’s making, she’s thought of every possibility and every outcome. I’m not going to question my best strategist about her personal life.” Whitebeard let out a laugh. “But she does tend to fabricate awkward events, and she does it very well. Which is why she’s waiting on the deck and you’re in here. So, a full report of last night.”

Ace suddenly realized what a full report would mean. His cheeks began to burn, and Whitebeard let out a roaring laugh. “See, Ace? I knew you were the right man for the job. Let’s hear it.”

The only thing that got Ace through that report was the thought of you on the other side of the door, and the embrace he could finally give you once he got out. 

--

Months went by, and you and Ace got closer every second you were together. You moved in with him in less than a month, having your own dresser and your own decorations sprinkled throughout the room soon after. He helped you hang up the flowers he had handcrafted for you, which felt like a lifetime ago, and he cleared off his desk so you had a place to work. 

The two of you got a cat, and though Jinx didn’t take much of a liking to you, the three of you were your own little strange form of a family. The Whitebeard Pirates were still his family of course, but you and Jinx were the family he had chosen to be his. The family he cared for so deeply, the people he could never bear to lose. He hated being away from you, and he never got tired of you being around. Where others found you brash and intense, he found you endearing and confident. 

--

You were in the crow’s nest, staring at the night sky when he realized it. 

“I love you.”

You blinked, unsure if you had heard him correctly. You turned your head to face him, but he was still staring at the stars. 

“Me?”

Ace gave a soft chuckle and then turned his head to look at you. His dark eyes reflected the stars shining above you, and you swore you could see the universe in his eyes.

“Who else would I be talking to?”

“You love me?”

A smile danced across his lips. “I love you.”

You scowled at him. “No you don’t.”

“I do.”

“Ace-“

“I know it’s love because I think about you all the time. Every time I see you, I smile and I swear my heart feels like it’s going to burst. The moment you leave I already start to miss you. When you wake up before me and slip out of bed to get coffee, I wake up in a panic, thinking you were just a dream. Because I swear you’re too good to be real. I love you because you’re the one person who I know I can always go to, no matter what, and I know you’ll help me in the way I need. Even if I don’t know how to help myself, you know how to because you know me.”

“Oh.” He had given a pretty solid argument, but you had felt all those things too. You had never felt them with anyone else, though. Just Ace. 

Sometimes, you missed him so much your chest hurt. He was always the first person you searched for in a room. He was the person you looked to when you laughed, the person you wanted to always be near. 

“I love you too, I think.” 

Ace laughed. “You think?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been in love before.” His confession had been so poetic. Yours felt embarrassingly weak as a follow-up. 

“Me neither,” Ace admitted. “That’s how I know.”

If that was the case, his words made you certain now. Your heart quickened at the thought of confessing. You had already done it once, but the words held more weight now that you knew. 

Your fingers found his, quickly interlacing with one another. You took a deep breath, still staring into his starry eyes. 

“Then yeah, I love you. Because nobody has ever made me feel quite so happy with life as you do, Portgas D. Ace. Nobody has ever made me smile so early in the morning, or made me excited to go to bed. Nobody has ever made my life so infinitely better that I think I would probably die without them. Nobody has ever made me feel this way. Nobody but you.”

You would die for him. And you knew he would do the same. It wasn’t fair, but it was the way you were now. Every decision you made was to keep him alive. And every decision he made was to do the same for you. 

But in a pirate world, death was always around the corner. It wasn’t a matter of if, but when. And every time you thought about the possibility of him being caught or killed, it made you physically nauseous. 

Little did you know, that possibility would become a reality much sooner than either of you could have ever expected. 

--

Tag list! @taeyoge @teiza @tojislawyer @trafalgardnami @bloopbopsblog @dancingnewcat @dxestyi @flooofity @nyxthedragon01 @deadsnothere @h-rhodes1598  @morgyyyyyyy @trafalgardvivi  @fiestynatureweeb @frogpogjoghurt @beepboopcowboy @ms-portgas @luvyallbabes @aikochan4859 @zuchkaa @saybeyonce @stray-npc @kitsunechan707 

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#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #one piece x you #portgas ace x you #portgas ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #ace x y/n #ace x reader #portgas d ace #portgas d. ace #cozage #✧˚ace✧˚

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

Chapter 5.

Note: follow up to chapter 4.

Warnings: 18+! fluff/suggestive!

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f)

summary: You woke up next to Sihtric, and he struggled to get through the day.

wordcount: 3k

Masterlist

'And what about it?'

When you opened your eyes the next morning, you blinked in confusion. Seconds passed as you processed where you had woken up, whose bed you were in, and whose breathing you felt in your neck while someone's arm was around you. You gasped softly when it all came back to you. You had really spent a night with Sihtric? The Sihtric Kjartansson? The one and only bass player of Seven Kings, your favourite band? You once again thought it had all been a dream when you woke from your slumber, before opening your eyes and being aware of your surroundings. 

You sat up and rubbed your eyes, then remembered you were completely naked and hastily reached for the bathrobe, which was still on the other side of the bed, where Sihtric left it last night after undressing you.

'What the fuck,' you whispered, staring at Sihtric who seemed to be asleep still.

You couldn't tear your eyes away from his handsome face, with his long, messy bed hair, his slightly parted lips and the several scars he had earned in mosh pits when he was a teenager, going to every local heavy metal show before he picked up a guitar himself. You simply couldn't believe this man had invited you to stay with him, and you had to stop yourself from freaking out. You quickly put on the robe, laid back down in bed and grabbed your phone off the nightstand, seeing you had uncountable texts from Gisela, asking how your night had been and why you weren't answering.

You: Gisela... you will not believe it

You started typing a huge text when suddenly Sihtric startled you.

'Who are you texting?' he asked with a low, raspy voice as he peeked over your shoulder.

'Christ,' you hissed, almost dropping your phone, 'you spooked me.'

'Sorry,' Sihtric chuckled and nuzzled your neck, wrapping his arm around you again to pull you back under the covers with him.

'But I'm texting my friend, the one who wanted to join me to the afterparty last night, but couldn't make it.'

'Mhm,' Sihtric hummed, 'well, tell her she'll have to wait,' he said and rolled you over to face him.

'Wait for what?' you giggled while Sihtric peppered kisses all over your face and neck.

'To wait until I'm done with you,' Sihtric grinned before he pressed his lips back onto your skin again, leaving open-mouthed kisses.

'Oh, well, o- okay,' you mumbled, smiling as you got lost in his touch while hearing his soft hums, and your phone slipped out of your hand, never sending Gisela that text.

You wrapped your arms around Sihtric's neck as he positioned his body between your thighs, his warm hand taking your knee and hooking your leg around his waist. He looked down at you with sleepy eyes and a half smile, then buried his face in your neck while grinding his hips against yours.

'Gods, I want you to use me,' Sihtric breathed in your ear and chuckled, 'hm,' he hummed, lips trailing up to your mouth, 'use me all up, sweetheart,' he sighed and bit your lip before he brought his lips back to your neck.

The sound of his husky voice and the feeling of his erection, painfully trapped in his underwear, grinding against your wet and unclothed folds made you lose your mind. You knew it was still too soon to tell where whatever you had going with Sihtric would lead to eventually, but you were ready for him, and desperate too. If he was going to ghost you after today, you thought, then at least you knew how big his cock was, and you fought a smile tugging at your lips as your imagination ran wild.

'I'll use you good,' you chuckled softly, hands moving up into his hair for a firm tug, to which he moaned desperately.

'Oh, please,' he whined, and just when he wanted to get off you and pull you on top of him, your phone rang, and a song of Seven Kings you had set as your ringtone awkwardly blasted through the room.

'Fuck,' you hissed, searching for your phone, which had gotten lost under the sheets, 'sorry!'

Sihtric breathed hard and then chuckled, out of breath, as he moved to lay beside you while you searched the bed.

'Don't worry, lady,' he laughed softly, 'you should answer your phone,' he said when you finally found it.

'Oh,' you grimaced, 'but it's a video call.'

'So?' Sihtric shrugged, 'your friend?'

'Yeah. But… she'll see you if I pick up.'

'And?' he asked, 'I don't care. You don't have to hide me or anything,' he smiled at you and pulled you in his arms after he sat up against the bed's headboard.

'Are you sure?'

'Yeah,' Sihtric said, grabbing his own phone to keep himself entertained while you'd talk with your friend.

You answered Gisela's call and she immediately fired her burning questions at you, leaving no space for you to even answer.

'Where are you? Wait, that is not your bed. Whose bed is that? How was the afterparty? Did you see Uhtred? What was he wearing? And Sihtric? Was he nice? What happened!?'

You listened to her endless list of questions, deliberately holding your phone in an angle so she couldn't see Sihtric. But when Gisela finally stopped talking, Sihtric suddenly laughed out loud at a meme he scrolled past. And you froze.

'W-who is there with you?' Gisela asked with big eyes, but she already knew the answer. 

She had recognised Sihtric's laugh, just like she could recognise every other band member's laugh, after the hours of silly videos you watched together of the band.

'Is that… are you…' she stammered, 'are you w-with Sihtric?'

You gave her a sheepish smile and Sihtric took your hand, tilting the phone towards him, and Gisela almost choked on her tea when she saw him.

'And what about it?' Sihtric asked with a cocky smile.

Gisela simply stared at him with her jaw dropped.

'Gis?' you said, directing your phone back to you again, 'are you still there or did your screen just freeze?'

'N-no I'm… here,' she barely whispered, then you heard a sudden knock on the hotel door.

You looked at Sihtric, who got up and quickly put on some sweatpants before he walked into the small hallway, to answer the door.

'Hey, man,' a familiar voice said.

You and Gisela stared at each other with huge eyes, both recognizing Uhtred's voice at the door. You could tell Gisela was about to let out an inhuman sound, so you quickly motioned her to be quiet, and you both eavesdropped on the conversation.

'Where'd you go last night?' Uhtred asked, 'we saw you for like a moment and then you seemed to have vanished into thin air.'

'Yeah, I left rather early,' Sihtric said.

'And that's fine, but let us know next time, okay? We didn't know where you went and you didn't answer our texts.'

'I know, sorry, I just woke up.'

'All good,' Uhtred said and then lowered his voice, 'you, uh, got a girl in there?'

'Eh,' Sihtric chuckled softly, 'y-yeah.'

'The one you've been messaging with?'

'Yeah, yeah,' Sihtric said softly.

'Is she pretty?'

'Uhtred,' Sihtric sighed, 'leave us alo-'

Suddenly you heard the door slam against the wall. Uhtred had pushed himself past Sihtric in the room, and he suddenly appeared out of the little hallway, walking up to you.

'Well, hello, beautiful,' Uhtred grinned at you, standing with his hands on his hips, hoping to impress you with his dashing looks.

You frowned at him, and luckily Gisela kept quiet when she understood what happened.

'Eh, hi,' you smiled a little awkwardly and then looked at Sihtric, who mouthed 'sorry' to you.

Uhtred stared at you, his grin slowly falling off his face when he realised you weren't going to swoon over him, like he had expected. A mildly disappointed look settled on his face before he turned on his heels.

'She's all yours,' Uhtred winked at Sihtric and slapped his cheek, before he walked out of the room, closing the door with a slam.

'Oh my god,' Gisela whispered with big eyes.

'Look,' you said, 'I- I gotta go. I'll text you later, okay?' 

You hung up before Gisela could answer and Sihtric walked over to you.

'I'm really sorry,' he sighed, 'that won't happen again.'

'It's okay,' you laughed, and mindlessly took his hand in yours.

Sihtric smiled and squeezed your hand lightly.

'So,' he said and laid down next to you, 'do you have any plans for today, lady?' he asked and pecked your hand all over.

'Not really, except for taking a train back home,' you giggled, 'why?'

He smiled and looked up at you, softly brushing his fingers over your cheek. 

'Would you like to spend the day with me here, in the city?' Sihtric asked, 'like… I don't know, like… like a date, I guess?'

You stared at Sihtric as he stood opposite of you in the hotel elevator. Dressed in jeans, his black boots underneath, a white shirt on top and a leather jacket to finish this look.He hoped to be somewhat unrecognisable in public by hiding most of his long hair under a black beanie, and his mismatched eyes behind some shades, even though it was cloudy. And you thought he looked absolutely ravishing. You were dressed in yesterday's outfit, which had already dried well by the time you woke up.

After asking what kind of lunch you wanted, and not getting a clear answer from you, Sihtric took you to some cosy place he ate lunch at on his own the day before. You sat in a quiet corner, opposite of each other, and Sihtric took your hand in his after taking off his shades, smiling sweetly at you. And just when he wanted to tell you how beautiful you looked, the waitress interrupted, handing you the menu and asking what you wanted to drink. Sihtric looked a little crushed by the abrupt interruption and felt the moment was ruined when the waitress left. 

He already knew what he wanted to order and, while your eyes still scanned the menu, he sneakily stared at you, smiling, as he held the menu up just below his eyes. When you had made your choice and looked up at him, he quickly looked back at the menu. You fought a smile, knowing he was not so subtle with his gazing at you, which you thought was adorable. Sihtric put the menu down on the table and opened his mouth to speak, after gathering the courage to finally ask if he could get your number, but then the waitress appeared again with your drinks and asked what you wanted to eat. And Sihtric sighed quietly at the interruption.

After you had ordered a simple sandwich for yourself, and Sihtric a whole hamburger meal for himself, because he was apparently starving, he leaned back and looked at you again. He took off his beanie and somewhat nervously raked his fingers through his messy hair.

'So,' Sihtric finally said, and cleared his throat.

'Oh my god,' you suddenly chuckled, cutting him off, and you pointed at the TVs that hung all around the bar. 'You're on tv,' you snorted.

Sihtric looked up, sighed, and hid his face in his hands.

'Fuck,' he groaned, not wanting to look at himself on tv or hear his band's music right now. 

He then decided he'll ask for your number later. When the food was brought over, you immediately devoured your sandwich, and just when Sihtric wanted to take a bite of his burger, someone walked up to him.

'E-excuse me,' a young woman asked, and Sihtric stared up at her with his mouth open, ready for that burger. 

'Can I g-get a photo with you? I really love your band,' the young lady asked shyly.

'Eh,' Sihtric put down his burger with a slightly sour face, 'I'd rather not take any photos, but I don't mind signing something for you.'

The woman happily agreed. Sihtric signed a napkin for her and handed her a guitar pick, and she thanked him before leaving you both to enjoy your food. You stared at Sihtric as he picked up his burger again.

'You never gave me that guitar pick you promised,' you joked.

Sihtric sighed, put the bun down on his plate again and reached into his pocket.

'Here, love,' he smiled and shook his head lightly while giving you a pick.

'Thanks,' you laughed, 'I'll cherish it,' you said with a grin and slipped it in your own pocket.

'Just, please don't make it into a necklace,' Sihtric gave you a disapproving look, 'I don't like those.'

'Fine,' you shrugged, and continued to eat.

When Sihtric made another attempt to finally take a bite out of his burger, the waitress walked by and accidentally bumped into his elbow, causing the burger to slip out of his hands and land back on the plate, falling apart all over the rest of his dish, and he decided to give up.

You walked back onto the street again, and before you could turn to face Sihtric, he had snuck up behind you already and lifted you up in his arms. You giggled and kicked your feet at the sudden loss of ground beneath you, while he chuckled in your ear and kissed your cheek before putting you back on your feet again. His arms lingered around your waist as he moved to walk beside you, and then he wrapped his arm around your neck.

'Where to now?' you asked, feeling you were blushing heavily.

'Hm, I don't know,' Sihtric looked around, 'let's just walk and see where we end up?'

You agreed and strolled around the city for a little while. Sihtric was shamelessly handsy with you and stole a kiss whenever he could. And you absolutely didn't mind it, you were simply living your best fanfic life right now, but sometimes you felt your head spin when you tried to grasp the situation.

'Oh!' Sihtric suddenly exclaimed. 

He took your hand and dragged you across the street, into a music store. Sihtric took off his glasses and the store employee immediately recognised him, who froze at the sight of him. Sihtric more or less ignored the guy and walked up to a gigantic wall, which held numerous bass guitars.

When the store employee finally dared to walk up to Sihtric, they had some small talk and Sihtric tried out a few bass guitars, playing some funky bass solos from one of his favourite bands; Red Hot Chili Peppers. The bass melody of Factory of Faith blasted through the store, while you and the store employee both looked smitten at the handsome bass player. Sihtric wasn't even trying to impress you, but it happened regardless. And when he was done playing some tunes, he held the neon green bass up he just played with, and inspected it for a moment.

'I like this one,' he mumbled to himself, then turned to the employee, 'I'll take this one,' he said.

And so Sihtric randomly bought another bass guitar, which would be shipped to the band's recording studio in London. Once outside the shop again, you wondered what the fuck just happened. Because Sihtric had just walked into a store and randomly bought an expensive new bass, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, like going to the bakery. Which it probably was in his world, but not in yours.

'Did you need it?' you chuckled while Sihtric folded the receipt and shoved it inside his leather jacket.

'No,' Sihtric shrugged, 'but I liked the colour,' he grinned and took your hand. 'Look,' he said, pulling you with him to sit on a bench nearby. 'I've been meaning to talk to you about a few things all day already, but I kept getting interrupted before.'

You frowned at him, feeling a little worried he was about to break your heart as he looked nervous while sitting down next to you.

'So,' he said, taking off his glasses, 'first of all, I'd really like to have your number, so we can just text and call in private, not on a social media app.'

Your heart skipped a beat at his words.

'And I wanted to tell you that in the next few months I'll be recording again with the guys. I know we just released a new album, but we had so much good stuff left, we want to make an EP. And after that we'll go on a bigger tour, you know, like… a world tour. The shows we just did were just us testing the waters again. We've been laying low for a good year, we didn't know if people were still into us. But for some reason they are,' he chuckled, 'so, yeah. That is kind of… what my future holds,' he said.

You blinked at him, overwhelmed by all the sudden information, and you had no idea what to tell him.

'And also,' Sihtric cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck as he nervously continued, 'You… well… I mean, I- I kinda want to know, like… what are your plans for the future? For your future? Like, for the next year, you know? And, I guess, more specifically, eh, I want to know if… if I...' he cleared his throat again, 'if I fit somewhere in there… in that future, w-with you?'

You stared at Sihtric, who was blushing by now, anxiously awaiting your answer.

'I… well, I am not really going anywhere, except for my… my work,' you swallowed hard, 'are you…' you hesitantly said after a moment, 'wait, w-what are you asking here?'

He buried his face in his hands and groaned softly, then looked back up at you again.

'I just really want you to be my girlfriend,' Sihtric blurted out, fast, and stared into your eyes as he held your hands.

taglist: @clairacassidy @finanmoghra @uunotheangel @hb8301 @bathedinheat  @neonhairspray @anaeve @bubblyabs @travelingmypassion @sylasthegrim @bubbles-for-all-of-us @andakth @bel-bottoms @willowbrookesblog @lady-targaryens-world @skyofficialxx @diosademuerte @elle4404 @alexagirlie @sweetxime @solango @gemini-mama @cheyennep3107 @little-diable @jennifer0305 @drwstarkeyy @mrsarnasdelicious @verenahx @urmomsgirlfriend1

#sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric fic #the last kingdom fic #the last kingdom #sihtric #tlk #modern!sihtric

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, part 25

Synopsis: soulmate AU where you have the same mark on your body as your soulmate, and if your soulmate dies, you die too. Alastor needs to make sure that his soulmate is safe so he can continue his reign - whatever that takes. Though it looks like we have a couple secrets of our own.

Previous part

Part 25: newcomers

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"How do you want to do this?" Husker asked quietly.

"I'm thinking. This is different than before," I answered. Myself, Husker, Vaggie, Charlie, and Alastor were hidden in the shadows on the outskirts of an old city.

The cops here had busted a ring yesterday and were holding the fighters in the jail. We had heard over the radio that they intend to 'put down the delusional and sick fighters'. It was merely a cover to ensure a possible Demon child didn't live, even if they didn't know which one was it.

"I need those cops out the building," I finally said, "Something big and dangerous would draw most of them out." I glanced up at Alastor.

"What a thrilling night," he said as he disappeared into the shadows.

"I need someone here for the children to run to and protect them." I barely had to turn my head before Charlie offered herself. "And the rest of us will go in to get them out."

Alarms and screams went off on the other side of the city. I was grateful I couldn't see whatever Alastor was doing. The cops poured out of the old building and towards the commotion. Vaggie, Husker, and myself ran into the station.

Vaggie was the first to get through and spear one of the remaining officers. Husker attacked the other one as I ran into the back. The few cells were holding countless sleeping fighters.

"Husker!" I yelled, "How do you wake them up?"

He wiped his bloody claw on the man's shirt and ran over. "Imagine pulling their mind up from their heart." We melted the metal doors and started waking up each of the fighters. Most were children under seven but there were a few teenagers. They understood exactly what was happening and helped herd the children after Vaggie.

Husker and I pushed the last few kids to the door when a gunshot went off. A kid fell face first into the ground. I casted wind to throw off the next shot as we pulled him out of view.

I wrapped an arm around the screaming child and looked for the wound. I cut off my senses as I found their leg dripping with blood. I ripped a sleeve off the dead officer and wrapped it tightly around the wound. Husker dulled the pain for them so they were crying, not screaming.

The gunshots kept going off. Husker threw a card out the window and cleanly cut off the pistol end. I hoisted the child up and casted fire around the man. He screamed and writhed as we all sprinted down our escape route.

Vaggie was stabbing someone down one of the streets as we slipped into the cover of nature. I casted a dim light source to help us see where we were going. The child in my arms clung to my shoulder as they cried. I really hoped the bullet had gone clean through their leg.

"That felt too easy," Husker said.

"Yeah. It's making me worried," I agreed. I had to dull my hearing as the wails started to pierce my eardrums.

Eventually Alastor returned. The teenagers immediately stood behind someone, knowing exactly who had just arrived. The younger ones were not yet old enough to hear of his frightening reputation, but they sensed how the older kids were reacting. His eyes narrowed as they landed on me and the crying child, seemingly bothered by the sound.

He said nothing and walked to the center of the group. He put his cane down and lifted a claw into the air. The ground beneath us began to grow a bright green. I urged the child to look down at it to get their mind off the pain.

The ground gave way for a moment. Everyone let out a surprise yell and lost their balance when solid ground came back. We were back at the cliff side with a new, huge scorch mark in the ground. The house stood way up on the hill and the huts sat just to the side.

Charlie began to explain everything to them. The teenagers had the option to leave if they wanted but the youngest were just happy to be out of there. I didn't know how many of the teenagers had stayed as I was tending to the crying child.

I brought him into one of the huts and laid him on the ground. I undid the wrap and examined their leg. The bullet had gone through their leg entirely, meaning there was no bullet for me to dig for. I could remember my own painful experience of having a bullet removed from my body.

Their crying worsened as the pain started to come back. I made calming noises and put my Human hand on his forehead. I put my hand over the wound and imagined the skin pulling back together. He started to writhe and I immediately stopped. I tried to reason with him but he was in so much pain.

I touched his forehead and pictured the pain hitting a wall around his head. He physically relaxed and the crying slowed. I kept one hand there and the other back on the wound. I tried healing it much slower this time.

I was almost done when my senses suddenly came back. I could smell his blood and it made my skin itch all over. I cut off the sense but it had already done it's damage. The wound was healed enough already and no longer bleeding. Good enough.

Gritting my teeth, I picked the boy up again and brought him to one of the beds. I carefully laid him down and ran a hand through his hair, telling him he was going to be alright. I was taken aback by the look he gave me, by the genuine belief. He fell asleep almost instantly.

My veins started to hurt. I turned around to find Alastor behind me. He didn't seem like himself a second before he put his annoying, egotistical smile back on. He had been watching me.

I whisked out of the hut and took a deep breath of fresh air. It had only been two days since I last had Human blood.

The group was still crowded around Charlie, the teenagers asking most of the questions. Eventually they dispersed into the various huts, each and every one of them shocked but excited over having an actual bed. I suspected the teenagers would sleep on the floor for the first few nights like I had done. It was a hard transition.

"Something the matter, darling?" Alastor came up behind me.

I grimaced. "No." I started up to the house in the dark, Alastor close behind.

****

The rings we attacked next consisted mostly of young adults. Not to our surprise, most of them didn't care about the political or power issues between Humans and Demons. They were just grateful to have somewhere safe to stay.

We broke them up into groups to help build more huts and start the actual building of the city. Stones needed to be moved in place and the buildings were going to be made out of brick or stone.

However, not everything was perfect just yet. The children had nothing to do and the adults had resentment towards some of the other ex-fighters. It meant there were fights at least once a day from both the adults and children. Charlie tried her best to prevent the fighting while Vaggie and I were the ones who actually had to stop them.

The children were becoming a nuisance to the working adults that just edged on the fighting. So I took the group of children to the shoreline where the beach connected with the cliff.

Down here was rocky and had plenty for them to do. They were in awe at the new surroundings and occupied themselves for hours. As much as I wanted to help build the Safe Haven, which was as much my idea as Charlie's, but the children were preventing that and no one seemed interested in dealing with aggressive little fighters.

I brought a book down with me and sat on one of the flat boulders. Every now and then I would look up to count the heads to ensure I didn't lose a child or to break up a petty argument.

Two boys started arguing over throwing a large rock into the ocean. I could see them dropping the rock on their feet and having to deal with broken bones. So I swiftly took the rock from their hands and dropped it behind the rock I was sitting on, telling them to argue over a different rock. The others thought it was funny.

One of the teenagers came down one afternoon to sit with me. We were silent for awhile until she finally decided to talk. She asked me about my fights and we got into a really deep, serious conversation. The following afternoon another teenager came down. I was starting to remember everyone's name.

One of the girl's name was Reagan. Unlike most children who are taken from an orphanage or off the streets, she was born in the rings much like myself. Children born in the rings wasn't a very common thing since it put the mother at a disadvantage in the rings and took her from the books for months until the baby was born. It also meant someone had to take care of or get rid of the newborn if the mother died. No one wanted to get their hands messy.

We broke the ice through talking about various fighting techniques and maneuvers. She revealed that she had no magic. It was extremely rare to find anyone without magic at all. She couldn't move any element, even in the slightest. It left her at a slight disadvantage to her opponents who had some control over the basic elements. I was shocked that she survived fourteen years in the rings without any magic.

We were deep in conversation when I felt someone watching me. I scanned and counted the children in front of me but none of them were paying us any attention. There was no one further down the beach, either. I tilted my head back and caught Alastor watching from the cliff top. He phased into his shadow and crept down to the beach. Reagan left our rock as soon as he manifested a few paces away. The younger children stopped what they were doing to just kinda watch, eyes jumping between me and Alastor.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"Now is that any way to greet me?" He walked over to stand beside the rock I sat on. It put us at the same eye level.

"You stare at me all the time and interrupt my conversations," I gestured to Reagan with my head. "So yes. What do you want?"

"I merely came to see what you were doing. I rarely see you since you've been bringing them all down here." He leaned his arm on the rock so our shoulders touched. My hair stood up from the energy rush and I leaned away.

I lowered my voice, "You just want the high from our combined magic. I'm not stupid."

"I've never claimed such a thing," his voice was chipper as he straightened up. He turned to look at the children who had gone back to playing with the rocks or in the cold ocean. "You're certainly not stupid when it comes to dealing with these unruly beasts."

"Children are only a handful when they have nothing to do," I said, "They're just curious." I noticed a group of them had formed to look at something one of them was holding. There were plenty of shells, rocks, and sea glass for them to find. A small smile pulled at my lips.

"You handle them quite well." I hadn't heard him sit behind me. His legs were crossed over the edge of the rock and he leaned over my shoulder so there was some kind of contact.

The compliment caught me off guard. I had never heard him actually say something nice. What did he want? What was he trying to get at? Was there something about the children he wasn't telling me? What did he want from me?

I was about to say something when a cry caught my ears. I wasn't in my Demon form but I didn't need to be to know where exactly the child was crying. I jumped off the rock and found him walking around one of the boulders holding his arm. It looked like he had scrapped it and blood dripped down his forearm.

I stopped in my tracks. My throat tightened with my veins and I had to force myself to breathe. His cry cut through my ears again and I leaned down to put a hand on his shoulder. "Let's go find Charlie," I said, clenching my teeth and pushing him down the beach. I locked eyes with Reagan and told her I would send Vaggie down to help her watch the rest of them.

The walk up the beach was torturous. My steps were purposeful and tense, each one like stepping in quicksand. My hands and arms had practically locked and all my senses were cut off in an effort to control myself. Fortunately, Charlie was nearby and had run over when she saw the crying child. She seemed to handle crying kids better than fighting ones. So I left her to it, asked Vaggie to watch the rest of the children for a few minutes, and disappeared into the house.

I went to the freezer for the small bits of animal meat I had wrapped and stored away. I found small portions more helpful in keeping the pains away for longer, until they stopped working. It seemed my tolerance for the thin blood was dwindling.

When I opened the freezer I found my brown packages gone. I let my Demon form show and spun around when Alastor manifested. "What is your problem?" I demanded.

"What ever could you be talking about, dear?" He leaned against the wall with his cane resting in the bend of his arm.

"What did you do with the packages?"

"I'm afraid animal blood won't work for you much longer," he said, "It'll work as a supplement here and there, but you can't survive off it."

"I've been perfectly fine as is."

"You and I both know that is a lie, my dear." He straightened up and crossed the kitchen so he was towering over me. "Do you really want to risk doing something you'll regret to those children? Do you want them to find out? Especially those teenagers--"

"Shut up." I leaned against the counter and pressed a clawed hand to my face. I was getting nauseous and merely standing took a lot of effort. I looked to the window, to the counter, and to the floor. My claws tapped the counter quickly. "You..." I let out a heavy sigh. "Fine. Can...where do I get it?"

"You ask me." He leaned down so our faces were level and really close. He had no awareness for personal space.

"Then this is me asking you for more," I bared my teeth. Mine felt so much smaller and weaker than his huge yellow ones.

He chuckled and straightened up. He put a hand on my shoulder and snapped his fingers, revealing another small piece in his hand. I let him wrap his presence around my shields as I ate the antidote.

How did I get to this point?

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

Author’s Note:

Holy crap! Act one IS DONE! Thank you so much for everyone who’s been reading along, liking, reblogging, following, and messaging! You’re motivating me to write every day :)

Our lovely Act Two will focus primarily on the development of our relationship with Alastor. Also, keep a look out tomorrow for a little sweet treat / insane idea I have

As always, let me hear your thoughts!

#alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin husk #soulmate au #soulmates #reqs open #hazbin hotel husk

[piratefishmama]

For One Night Only | Part 2

Eddie remembered a lot about Steve Harrington, so to get this fresh new perspective on him… it was wild. He remembered a jock, the king of Hawkins High, the king of Hawkins in general, women wanted him, men wanted to be him, or in some cases men also wanted him. Rich, popular, kind of a jackass at times but never mean enough to warrant dislike. Would have never associated with Eddie’s kind, but yet there he was, comfortable on Eddie’s hotel bed, one long leg crossed over the other as they moved on from pleasantries to business.

Steve wasn’t there as a social call, no matter how fun it might have been to catch up. He had a job to do, and Steve was good at his job.

“Alright, considering our history, or what little of it we have, it might be a good idea to use it if asked on the carpet how we met, I can spin a story about us being secret high school sweethearts who recently reconnected as friends if you want, really big you up to the paps.”

“As lovely as that idea is since high school me would have been thrilled to have been your secret sweetheart” Steve grinned “shut up, I was a nerd with a crush leave me alone” the snigger that followed only made Eddie smile, it wasn’t a hurtful laugh, and Steve’s smile was just to radiant to be mad at. “I said shut up!”

“Shutting up” the smile stayed though as he mimed zipping his lips. Adorable bastard.

“Anyway, as lovely as that idea is, too many people knew us in high school, if the press got word that it was a lie from one of our mutual past acquaintances, eh it’s a hornets nest I don’t wanna poke. Too many what ifs, but we could say that we went to school together, it’s true, we could say that we reconnected recently and… y’know, hit it off…”

“We are hitting it off.” Steve mused, tapping his finger to his chin in thought. “I like it, easy, close to the truth, very little room for mistakes. So I’m to be your date, not just a friend joining you for the evening?” That was what the invite had requested but… Steve was clearly amusing himself by making Eddie squirm a little.

“Mmmhm, yep. Steve Harrington, my date, Can time travel just exist already?”

“Haha, why?”

“Teenage me could do with a visit right this second to tell him Steve Harrington is gonna be our date someday.”

Steve covered his mouth as he laughed so sweetly, the picture of perfection as always. His nose scrunching just a little as he laughed. “Were you always this cute, Eddie?”

“Mmhm, once upon a time, I was even cuter, I swear.”

“I’ll believe you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“I know, thousands wouldn’t, but I’ve always been a sucker for cute brunettes with big ol Bambi eyes, can't help but believe everything they say.” Eddie hadn’t felt his cheeks warm in years and yet there he was, hiding behind his hair, his complexion turning as red as a fire hydrant, stupid pale skin.

Speaking of brunettes, and incredibly convenient subject changes for the safety of his own composure. “Wait, YOU’RE who Nancy knows!”

“You know Nance?”

“She’s our manager now, man, gets us all the best shit! I met her in a bar after she totally blew off the journalism thing, something about sexist work environments and bosses who wouldn’t know a real story if it slapped them directly in the face. They kept giving her fluff pieces.” Nancy Wheeler, a fluff writer, the audacity of anyone who ever made that assumption. “Now she’s the most badass manager in metal history. I swear to god she’s made many a producer pale in fear at the very mention of her name.” She read all the fine print, with a goddamn magnifying glass. She’d made a grown men cry multiple times, it was badass. “She’s the coolest.”

Steve’s smile was so fond Eddie could have swooned just having it aimed at him, even if the fondness wasn’t for him, it was beautiful enough for it to be swooned over anyway. “She is, cool. I’m glad she found her people.” Even if they no doubt made a funny looking group, little not so primp and proper Nancy Wheeler among a bunch of metalheads. It fitted, in a strange kind of way, she’d always wrangled Mike easy enough.

“How did you uhm… y’know… it’s probably none of my business and I keep changing subjects so stop me if I keep jumping around I’m still a little flabbergast from seeing you at my door but uh… how’d you—y’know… what’s this uh… the whole thing like?” Steve tilted his head like a confused puppy and Eddie just kind of wanted to melt into the floor. “The escort thing.” He added on, for clarification.

“Oh, uhm. Chrissy? Chrissy Cunningham, cheer captain of ’86?”

“I know her, she and Gareth have this—”

“Thing! Yes, she talks about him regularly with Robin.” Robin? He doesn’t think to ask, Steve and Robin, Robin… who would be associated with Steve a Robin whom Steve would just mention as if expecting him to know. He only knew one Robin from those days, and he didn’t even really know her.

Just kind of… existed near her in band for a few months until his style of music pissed the teacher off enough to kick him out. Couldn’t be that Robin, right? Not important.

“Oh my god don’t tell me that and expect me to keep it a secret that’s brutal of you.”

“God, tell him, please, I didn't even know who he was but she keeps talking about him and waiting for him to ask her out. Eventually she’s just going to pin him against something and kiss him so—”

“Tell her to do that but god wait until I have a camera please!” Eddie Munson was not against begging, his grin wide and eyes shimmering with gleeful mischief. “It’s reciprocated, totally and completely one hundred percent reciprocated, he is so gone on that girl, it’s adorable.”

“I will let her know, at least now I know he's one of yours and a good guy." Gareth was the best guy in Eddie's opinion, like a brother to him, not that the others werent too, but... Gareth had known he was gay since Hawkins High. Just him and Uncle Wayne in the know, and he'd always been there to support him, Gareth was good. "Anyway… we ran into each other in this café that I’d gotten a part time gig at in Indy, she looked good, healthy…” he didn’t need to say that Chrissy had had a problem. But she had, and that problem began with ‘M’ and ended with ‘other,’ hers to be specific. “She was already doing it, loving it, I was dubious, asked if she was okay, if she needed help, but no she was loving it, thriving actually, and well… I like making people feel good, both emotionally and physically” oof that was a tone that went straight to a place it shouldn’t do “why do it for free, y’know? She got me set up and the rest is history.” He enjoyed himself.

He loved his job, his love language had always been acts of service, he liked making people feel good, liked making them feel wanted, feel loved, feel seen and heard. Eddie couldn’t help himself “ever do anything… y’know…?” He really wished he could help himself sometimes.

“Sex related?” The red in his cheeks only deepened, Steve didn’t seem offended, or upset, in fact his smile only warmed, eyes crinkling at the corners, gods above and below he was beautiful, how did anyone survive after a night with him, having to let him go? “Sure, like I said, if I’m good at something, why do it for free?”

“Even with…” Eddie motioned to himself

“You?”

“N-No! No, Men—wait sorry—that’s—that’s none of my business” he turned away to move, to pace, so much energy in his body suddenly there with nowhere to go “none of this is any of my business, I don’t usually ask these kinds of—I mean it’s really wrong of me to even ask this sort of—" Steve was just there so fast, hands on Eddie’s biceps, holding him in place, Eddie hoped he couldn’t feel him almost vibrating out of his skin.

“It’s okay, Bambi” Eddie’s eyes snapped up to meet Steve’s, his wide and unblinking, like a deer in headlights in the face of Steve’s so warm and understanding, Bambi really did suit him, Steve thought, his left hand lifting to rest on Eddie’s cheek as if to ground him, it worked. God it worked. “Ask all the questions you like, but maybe save some for later, we don’t have long before we have to go.”

“…Later you’ll be leaving though...” he didn’t want Steve to leave. He didn’t want his next time seeing Steve to be part of a lottery, would he come next time? Would someone else who Eddie didn’t recognise appear in his place?

“We’re hitting it off, remember? I’m sure there’s going to be an afterparty we can both be caught sneaking away from to hang out, right?” Eddie kind of felt like he was flying. He felt like a teenager again, a nerdy, virginial teenager. He refused to acknowledge that little goblin voice telling him that Steve was actually probably just doing his goddamn job, he was on the clock dammit. He just wanted to have this. “You can ask me questions then, I promise I’ll stay.” He didn’t have anywhere else he needed to be.

“…Yeah… if that’s okay with you.”

“More than. Now how about you introduce me to the rest of Corroded Coffin, we all need to be on the same page before we get there.” Work now, catch up later. “Sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can ditch the after party to hang out.” Eddie giggled, an honest to gods little giggle. He really did feel like a teenager again, only Steve was looking at him. Holding him. Grounding him. Steve Harrington was seeing him.

Teenager Eddie would have shit a brick.

“Alright, I’m warning you though, I think you let Tommy H. stuff Jeff into a locker once so don’t expect a warm welcome.” Steve grimaced a little but nodded. He was a different person now, but that wouldn’t erase the mistakes he’d made as a stupid teenager. Plenty of bridges to rebuild and apologies to give. Jeff wouldn’t be the first or the last.

“Bring it on, Bambi.” Eddie could only hide behind his hair again, bashful and flustered.

Part 4

#For One Night Only #PirateWrites #Steddie #ficlet #Stranger Things #no upside down au #Escort!Steve #Rockstar!Eddie

[oneatlatime]

The Journey to Ba Sing Se Part 2: The Drill

Could I have Appa back please?

The Previously On segment actually didn't spoil anything for once. Nice.

I do like these tank things. In fact I like all Fire Nation technology. Not what it's used for. But the designs are neat. And more interesting than most actual military tech. You ever look at something techy, and think to yourself 'there was an artist involved here,' because that's the impression FN tech gives me. It's not beautiful, but there's a pleasing toothiness to it.

Excellent sound design on the metal screechy moving bits. And is that tank escort really necessary?

I know this is a kids' cartoon, with characters that are designed to be the audience's age. I know! And usually I can suspend my disbelief and forget that I'm watching children do very adult jobs! But this caught me so off guard I laughed. The Fire Nation's big secret project to break through the wall once and for all, that would be an absolute career making achievement for whoever is in charge, and they've given it to a bunch of teenage girls. This is where my suspension of disbelief stops.

Can you imagine the meeting where this was proposed? The Fire Lord being like "Who can lead the attack on Ba Sing Se? We lost Zhao at the North Pole, does whoever it is who occupies his equivalent rank in the Army want the job? Or even Zhao's second in command perhaps? Or how about: three middle school girls, two of which aren't even members of the military? Doesn't that sound like a good plan?" And of course all his advisors have to agree and be like "that sounds like an excellent plan your lordship; did you have any particular girls in mind or should we go scout out the local Claire's?" because the last guy who disagreed with him got his face blown off. I don't care how viciously talented Azula and friends are; a country that puts eighth graders in charge of invasion plans should have lost the war in year one, not still be winning it in year 99.

Did that random commander guy just smack Ty Lee in the face?

Problem the first of this plan: unless the Fire Nation has invented pocket dimensions or bags of holding, there is no way that that drill, even stuffed full of soldiers, would hold enough people to take a city that seemingly contains every single refugee in the entire Earth Kingdom.

Do you think those refugees got preferential treatment for arriving on an Avatar powered elevator?

"I'm the Avatar. Take me to whoever's in charge." OWN IT BABY!!!

That's one hell of an irrigation system they must have.

"He was quickly expunged." Was he? I got the impression he quit. Of his own accord.

Something tells me like forty guys throwing rocks won't stop that thing.

So... what was Mai doing that whole fight? Hanging decoratively off a rope?

I'd forgotten how stupid Earth Kingdom generals were. Luckily Sokka is there to vicariously express my opinion of them. A reverse beat up Sokka quota fulfillment!

Toph is such a little shit and I love her.

Aang sure does put up with a lot sometimes. Part of being the Avatar. It's a good thing he has such patience. Can we talk about how lucky the world is that Aang is the one tasked with putting up with nonsense like this? Imagine if Sokka or Toph were the Avatar. There would be casualties.

I like complaining too buddy. Nice to see Sokka's worth being recognised. Now can we do that outside of a life or death situation too please?

I joke about Zuko's dumbass behaviour, but let's be honest, it's inherited.

Jet. Fuckboy. You do not make it easy to even slightly like you. Guy is missing the point as much as Zuko usually does. Going straight MEANS leaving the freedom fighters behind. It doesn't mean reforming them somewhere else. And what Fire Nation threat are you going to find in Ba Sing Se for your Freedom Fighters to fight? You know, if this idiot was actually serious about fighting for Freedom rather than blowing stuff up for fun, he'd fudge his age and enlist in the Earth Kingdom Army.

Four points: How does Katara know Ty Lee's name? Is this confirmation that waterbending healing cannot remove a Chi block? I love that the trait that gives away Ty Lee's identity is the fact that she cartwheeled away. I love Sokka. Just in general.

There is no way this girl is not tripping.

Can you imagine how loud standing right next to that drill must be?

ABS

Normally I'd say that one earthbender trying to slow the drill down with spikes will work even worse than the Terra Team who tried and failed with like 40, but this is Toph we're talking about. It could work.

These children are so polite when they're committing industrial sabotage. Truly, they were raised well.

Do you ever get the feeling that whoever is in charge of designing Fire Nation armour is into a few things that he's trying to repress so hard that they're coming out in all the wrong places?

Jet seems to have lost all the manipulative abilities he had in his episode. Suddenly he's very bad at reading body language and keeps saying the exact opposite of what he should.

New achievement unlocked! 1000% agreeing with something Zuko said! That was a pretty stupid move.

Cups made out of leaves are neat.

Katara, you can't have it both ways. You can't look to Sokka to make the plan, then get snippy when the plan correctly plays to all of your strengths. He physically CAN'T bend. Either you come up with a better plan yourself, or you do as the guy you appointed planner suggests.

Points in favour of allowing Katara to murder people, exhibit 1.

Confirmed: Sokka is catnip for girls.

Even in comparison to the others, Ty Lee has a bad case of cartoon physics.

Did Katara just disarm herself? That'll come back to bite her in 3, 2, 1...

Mai gets a second personality trait! Yay!

There is no way this is actually practical armour. This is someone in procurement with a thing for sweaty bulging muscles and puppy masks.

And thus, the log ride was born. Later versions would go on to perfect the concept by introducing a log.

I felt Sokka's mud freakout in my bones. Looks like Katara giving away her water isn't going to be a problem.

Petition to let Katara say bitch. The voice actress said Circus Freak but I know what I heard in my heart.

Remember that time Sokka smacked his forehead so many times that his face was permanently red? My turn now.

Aang. I know you love your friends. But maybe a battle on top of a moving machine of destruction in the midst of an aerial assault from your idiotic allies while facing off with the single most powerful and amoral firebender in existence, isn't a place to bring your pet lemur?

Beat up Sokka quota fulfilled by little sister. It's surprising that isn't the case more often. I know Sokka took it too far, but if you don't want him telling you what to do, maybe you shouldn't have looked to him for a plan?

Toph is here! Day saved.

Finally some sense re: Momo safety.

Time for the Western showdown. There's even something that could stand in for a water tower in the background.

If Azula had just struck at Aang the second he got knocked unconscious, rather than waiting until he woke up for dramatic purposes, she would have won this. I give Zuko Hell for being a theatre kid, but he's not the only one in the family.

I would love to know what they make Fire Nation boot soles out of. They have supernatural traction.

I take back everything I said about pet safety. That was a really cool Momo assist.

Aang invents the pneumatic hammer.

I LOVE that the cut braces had an effect after all. Sokka's contribution counts!

I bet this guy's wishing he'd been eaten by a giant fishman like Zhao right about now. Have fun explaining that one to the Firelord!

HOW is Ty Lee still alive?

HOW does Azula still have knees after that drop?

HOW does Mai have such perfect timing?

ROCK TRAIN ROCK TRAIN ROCK TRAIN ROCK TRAIN ROCK TRAIN ROCK TRAIN ROCK TRAIN ROCK TRAIN ROCK TRAIN ROCK TRAIN ROCK TRAIN ROCK TRAIN ROCK TRAIN ROCK TRAIN ROCK TRAIN ROCK TRAIN ROCK TRAIN ROCK TRAIN ROCK TRAIN ROCK TRAIN ROCK TRAIN ROCK TRAIN ROCK TRAIN ROCK TRAIN ROCK TRAIN ROCK TRAIN ROCK TRAIN ROCK TRAIN ROCK TRAIN ROCK TRAIN

They really ought to put wheels on all but the back car to reduce friction and save energy. Then again, if the Earth Kingdom is one thing, it's stupid.

So... Jet's change of heart lasted a bit less than one episode. Good job fuckboy!

So precious.

So Pretty.

Final Thoughts

This was like 90% action, with the other 10% being split between Zuko & Iroh plot stuff and Sokka playing comic relief. So there's not that much to talk about here really (she says, having found a whole post's worth of stuff to talk about).

Sokka had his bossy pants on, admittedly because he was asked to don them. Aang got to do some proper Avataring. Katara and Toph got to exercise their bending muscles. I'm not surprised that Toph was absent for much of the middle of the episode, because - let's be honest - given the right tools, Toph would have finished the Drill in one move. And then they'd be out of episode.

Actually, Mai got to have a personality beyond Too Bored To Live this episode. This is probably the most personality I've seen out of her so far. She's much more expressive when she's with just Ty Lee, rather than Ty Lee and Azula.

And Zuko! Had! Common! Sense! Iroh had to be a dumbass for Zuko to shine, but Zuko was, once again, the most reasonable character in his little B plot. For future reference: If you want to make Zuko reasonable, all you have to do is nerf his uncle and juxtapose him with a terrorist.

I loathe Jet. Always have, probably always will. But I'm still disappointed in him. His 'turning over a new leaf' - if it was sincere at all - lasted like 10 on-screen minutes. I feel sorry for Smellerbee and Longshot. I don't think their faith in their glorious leader is going to be repaid. He seems to brush off Smellerbee's opinions.

The strangest thing this episode was how few lines Azula had. I guess maybe they were using silence to try to show how calculating and collected she is compared to others, but honestly my first thought was that the voice actress had something going on. A cold? A previous engagement? It felt really weird to hear her speak so little, since previous episodes have shown she's not averse to gloating and dramatic monologues. She didn't even have much in the way of facial expressions.

I think the winners this episode were Mai, who got to have a personality; Zuko, who got a turn with the brain cell; and Aang, who got to work out pretty much all the bending he knows so far and successfully Avatar.

I did notice with some of the shots of Aang moving the big boulders the idiots were chucking down, that there was a kind of fuzziness to the air between Aang and what he was moving. Was I seeing the actual bending energy (Chi I guess) moving?

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #avatar the last airbender #the drill