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roanniom · 3 years

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The Night That Follows

Poe Dameron x Reader

Word Count: 8,000~

Summary: While celebrating a successful mission, you and Poe accidently ingest a mysterious beverage that makes it hard to resist one another, helping you forget the stress that weighs you down and the friendship that you’ve been holding between you two as a shield.

Note: This is my first ever non-ADCU fic and it is dedicated to the ever lovely and supportive @paper-n-ashes who urged me to get out of my comfort zone and cheered me on.

Warnings: NSFW, dirty talk, alcohol consumption, sex pollen, drugged drink (it’s drugged with the sex pollen by a 3rd party and not with malicious intent but it still might be triggering), masturbation (f/m), PIV sex, unprotected sex, war-related angst

When people talk about war, they often discuss the paralyzing fear, the numbing depression. Hopelessness that spreads through your veins like cold water as you face immeasurable odds and stare death in the face day after day. And you can attest to these feelings. You experience them with each dawn that breaks, muddy in the sky regardless of the atmosphere shrouding whatever planet you find yourself waking on each morning. Your life is transient, full of ships and bases and camps. The constants are the clothes on your back, the friends in your squadron (those who survive), and the x-wing you hop in each time danger calls.

The other constant is the part of war that people do not discuss. The rush of adrenaline every time you make it out of a tough scrape. Adrenaline that burns your veins, evaporating the icy hopelessness that had flooded you up until the minute your boots hit turf and your jellied knees catch up to the reality that you are still very much alive. The euphoria that crackles in your brain when you spy your best mate zooming down from above, finally landing and throwing themselves into your arms in the hug you never thought you’d experience again after their coms had gone down in a fire fight. The absolute debauchery of a night of celebration after such a fire fight. Because nobody needs to live quite as much as those who may die.

Which is how you find yourself here, on this non-descript jungle planet, the name of which you didn’t catch during your descent because honestly there have been so many jungle planets and they have all become little more than coordinates on a screen to you at this point. You and your squad have been set up with a mini-festival by the resistance-sympathizing locals as a thank you for your recent decimation of their First Order oppressors. The operation had been pretty seamless, thanks in no small part to the excellent teamwork between you and a one Poe Dameron.

Your flying today had rivaled some of his best, which is certainly saying something since Poe prides himself on being the best pilot in the resistance. You certainly gave him a run for his money, outflying TIE fighters and swiveling shuttle cannons in a perfectly choreographed tandem maneuver wherein the two of you manipulated your assailants to ultimately destroy themselves.

As you knock back a burning shot of the local alcoholic beverage, the liquid tingling and warming you all the way down, you search the triumphant crowd for the cocky pilot who had helped you set the stage for this celebration. You wouldn’t dwell on the earlier events of the day much more tonight. Wouldn’t think much of the comrades you’d lost in the struggle. That was an ache that would throb back to life tomorrow. Tonight, the priority is living.

It is then that you lock eyes with Poe Dameron through the throngs of semi-drunken revelers. His handsome face splits into a wide, cocky grin, so you adopt an exasperated smirk in response as he pushes his way towards you. Such is the game you play. A dance, if you will. Poe plays the role of the self-assured, overly confident golden boy while you, his long suffering partner, humble him with your good-natured criticism and ever rolling eyes.

“Alright there, Sweets?” Poe practically drawls as he reaches you, the nickname both a term of endearment and a teasing reference to the sweet tooth that keeps you hoarding candies of all kinds in your bunk, much to Poe’s own benefit. You beam up at him and upend your little glass to demonstrate its emptiness.

“On my way there, Fly Boy.”

“Looks like you’re falling behind, rookie. Like you did on that triple barrel twist today.”

You throw a punch that lands a little too lightly on his shoulder to produce the grunt and showy flail that he graces you with.

“First of all, you’re not allowed to call me rookie anymore. Your dumb ass might need to be constantly reassured that you’re ‘best pilot in the resistance,’ but by now I am, at worst, second best.” Your gut warms and you’re not sure if it’s the drink or Poe’s deep, full-bodied laugh in response. “And second of all, we don’t talk about the day if we make it to the night.”

Poe almost seems to sober at your words, a phrase of his tossed back at him. The smile remains, though, and he tosses an arm around you before dragging you over to the table that’s been set up with refreshments.

“Right you are, Sweets,” Poe agrees quietly. Louder now and injecting you two into the crowd surrounding the cluster of bottles, he continues, “as for you being second best pilot, I’d rather let the squad decide before you go getting a head too big to fit in your helmet.”

This receives a laugh from the crowd as well as another smattering of slaps thrown towards Poe’s chest.

“Dameron, we all know you already have your own helmet custom made so you can stuff that massive ego in there,” your friend Myrna.

“And those curls,” you add, reaching up and ruffling your hand through his hair in that way that always makes his nose scrunch up in mock anger.

“If you must know, there’s something else they also have to custom make me…” Poe says, grabbing your wrist and forcing your hand to slide down his chest towards the bottom of his flight suit zipper and wiggling his eyebrows. You shriek and yank your hand away.

“In your dreams, Dameron.” Poe leans down toward you so that his face is close enough for you to feel his breath fan across your cheeks.

“Or perhaps in yours?”

Suddenly a small, wrinkled face appears between you. It’s an elderly female member of the local alien race and she’s beaming up at you, holding two steaming mugs and smiling around a garbled statement in a language you don’t recognize.

“Oh I’m sorry, I’m not sure I…” you interrupt her, glancing awkwardly between her massive eyes and Poe’s confused ones.

“I might be able to translate!” Myrna cries out, stumbling forward with a newly refilled glass in her hand.

“You sure that’s not just the liquor talking?” Poe asks with a chuckle. Myrna waves him off and kneels unsteadily to listen to the old woman. More garbled speech issues forward as the woman gestures between you and Poe with her mugs. Myrna nods several times and gives little hums of agreement and affirmation. You and Poe trade glances of amusement during the interaction, but you have to look away when the upturned corner of Poe’s mouth begins to distract you.

“Alright alright,” Myrna pipes up. You turn back in time to see Myrna standing back up to her full height, now holding the two mugs, while the woman waddles back into the crowd.

“What’s the deal?” Poe asks, slinging his arm back around your shoulders. You resist the knee jerk actions that come to mind, both to slap his touch away and to lean into it, standing rigid instead.

“She said these are for you,” Myrna says, pushing the steaming mugs into your hands and Poe’s.

“Did she say why?” You peer at the milky, opalescent contents curiously. Myrna has already moved on, however, turning back to the pilot she’d been hanging on before you and Poe had approached. You look to Poe but he shrugs.

“I don’t know, something about you guys deserving it.” Myrna waves her hand dismissively, obviously ready to get back to her own evening. You look up at Poe, unsure, but he’s nodding and smiling.

“Hear that, Sweets? Seems like word travels fast that we’re the top two pilots,” Poe says cheekily, clinking his mug to yours before throwing back his head and downing its contents in one gulp. Your insides ignite at his acknowledgment, as well as the bob of his adam’s apple, but your eyes still flit warily to your beverage.

“We don’t even know what it is and you’re drinking it?”

“Honey, I’m pretty sure that liquor we were taking shots of earlier was actually jet fuel, I don’t think we need to be too worried about this.” Poe smacks his lips and runs his finger around the inside of the mug. “And besides, it’s really kriffing good.”

Watching the way his cheeks hollow out as he sucks the last dregs of his drink from his finger makes a heat boil in the pit of the stomach. You decide you actually are quite thirsty, and since your curiosity is stronger than your apprehension, you knock the liquid back yourself.

“Atta girl!” Poe cheers you on, nudging you. The drink is sweet and thick on your tongue like a melted version of the ice cream you’d tasted once, many years ago. You can still remember the creamy texture, very much worth the credits paid to the traveling vendor who’d brought it to your village during the hottest summer of your childhood. As you swallow this liquid down, however, its cold temperature changes into a burn, similar to alcohol, though smoother than any liquor you’d ever had.

“Good, right?” Poe asks, eyebrows raised. You nod and lick your lips, sure that you’re imagining things when Poe’s eyes flicker down to your darting tongue.

“That was actually pretty good,” you concede with a grin.

“So what have we learned tonight?” Poe prompts, grabbing your mug from your hands and placing it next to his on a nearby table. You shake your head.

“Your cockiness extends to believing locals on a miniscule planet find you special?”

“The correct answer was ‘always give things a chance,’ Sweets, but you can continue being closeminded if you want,” Poe responds with a chuckle. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and makes to walk away.

“Fine!” You reach out and grab his arm before he can leave. When he rounds back on you with a wide smile you roll your eyes and refuse eye contact. “And just so you know, I’m a lot more open minded than you think, Dameron.”

“Is that so, rookie?” You bristle but as the glee raises in his eyes at your reaction you do your best to tamp it down.

“I’m…flexible,” you say, your grin begrudging. A hubbub breaks out beyond you in the crowd as the makeshift band that had assembled to play party music transitions to a particularly festive song, causing both you and Poe to watch as people begin forming an impromptu dance floor. When Poe turns back at you and raises his eyebrows, expectant, you throw up your hands defensively.

“No. Don’t look at me like that, Fly Boy,” you’re quick to say, but Poe’s even quicker, having already grabbed you by the hand and pulled you to him. Your body collides with his and his other hand finds the dip of your waist.

“Oh I’m sorry, what was that I just heard someone say about being open minded?” Poe asks. In a sudden fluid motion he dips you, bending you over so that your back is parallel to the ground and his face hovers over yours. “Being flexible?”

You let him pull you back up and steady yourself with a hand on his chest to catch your balance, dizzy now, most likely from the suddenness of the motion. You’re about to toss back a witty retort, possibly something that will knock him down a few pegs, but then you catch the glint in his eye and a smile spreads across your lips unbidden.

“You get one dance, Dameron.”

~*~

One dance turned into many, as it turns out. The band, upon realizing their audience’s appetite for raucous music, had begun a steady rotation of upbeat tunes. The dance floor had expanded, spilling out of its original confines in the center of the town square and into the concession areas on the perimeter. Resistance members danced and drank, their bodies jumping and moving to the beat in one chaotic mass of excess energy and euphoria. Bodies writhe against one another in all directions as people seek out friction that can confirm to them that they did indeed survive the day’s trials.

You’re experiencing friction of your own in your little portion of the dance floor. Where things had started out innocently – energetic bouncing to the beat and moving in unison – the tone had long changed. At this point Poe is behind you, arms slung dangerously low on your hips to hold you against him, hands pressed right above your pelvis. The feeling of his chest pressing against your back, his hips bracketing your ass – you’ve lost yourself in the sensations. The rhythm of the music shakes through your muscles but instead of tense and tired, they’re loose and buzzing.

Though truth be told, they aren’t the only thing buzzing. The proximity of Poe’s hands to your lower body feels charged like a magnet. Without thinking you press your hands over the backs of his, encouraging pressure on your lower abdomen. You swear you hear Poe growl behind you has his hands pull you further to him, but it could also be the roar of the crowd. Your hips move in sync, your ass grinding against him in time with the music. Escapism in its purest form is what you’re experiencing in Poe’s arms, held against Poe’s body, matching Poe’s motions. It’s heady and distracting and everything you could ask for to make living feel like living, especially in the aftermath of a day centered on death. You’re content to let this moment last as long as the universe allows.

That is until you realize that the increasing beat you’d thought was a shift in the music is actually the rapid crescendo of your own heartbeat.

Swallowing you find your throat is thick, saliva pooling in your mouth inexplicably. You take a deep breath and allow your mind to reel. How long had you been feeling like this? Why hadn’t you noticed these feelings coming on?

One of the large hands at your hip begins sliding up along the plane of your side and you get your answer. The weight of his touch lights your skin on fire as it drags up and across your collar bone. Your breath feels ragged, rattling around in lungs that can’t seem to take in oxygen no matter how high your chest rises and falls. Poe’s hand lingers on your throat for a second so you swallow again, with even less luck than before. His hand reaches up to grip your jaw which he uses to turn your head back toward him.

Oh.

Poe continues to move behind you, his motions controlling you both on the floor, but his face is strained. Sweat dots his temples, gleaming in his curls, and his teeth seem gritted, making his jaw set at a striking angle. His eyes pin you down, however, and they keep your attention as you gaze back, wide-eyed.

“You okay, rookie?” Poe’s voice is deeper than normal, huskier. The way it reverberates through your body makes a rumbling bubble up deep inside your chest. The beginnings of a moan, perhaps? You’re quick to gasp a response before such a sound has a chance to make its way into the air between you.

“I’m…feeling quite strange.”

The hand still at your waist tightens its grip while the other rejoins on the opposite side. You have to gasp again to keep from moaning. Suddenly you’re being maneuvered forward, Poe’s guidance weaving you through the crowd with ease despite the congested revelry.

Neither of you see the way Myrna is watching you both with a knowing smirk from her place draped around her own handsome pilot beau. Or the way the little old woman who’d gifted you the beverage hovers on the outskirts of the dance floor, a proud look on her wrinkled face as she eyes your retreating figures.

~*~

You’re not really able to follow where Poe is directing you, mainly because of how the imprint of his hands on your body seems to be searing into your skin through your flight suit. While your accelerated heart rate was the thing you had been most worried about, now you are equally worried about the dull ache that has seated itself in the pit of your stomach. You bite down hard on your lip to keep the moan from spilling out, the one you’ve been suppressing since the moment you became conscious to your current discomfort.

When Poe’s stride finally slows to a stop only then are you able to take in your surroundings. Blinking, you’re surprised to find that you’re now outside of the town, far from the lights and bustle of the party, walking into the silent clearing that contains the squadron’s parked aircrafts.

“Why are we all the way out here?” you ask, unsettled by how deep your voice sounds in the darkness.

“Needed to get away from the crowd.” You’re even more unsettled by how breathless Poe’s voice is as he says his first words since the dance floor. So unsettled that you turn in his arms so you can finally take in his disheveled appearance fully.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know, it’s the weirdest thing. One minute everything was fine and the next…”

“You can’t catch your breath,” you finish for him and he nods gravely. Both of your chests are practically heaving, pressing into each other with each exhale. When you become aware of this, it also brings awareness of the way his chest pressed up against yours is also adding pressure to your nipples. Since when were your nipples hard? The night is balmy, a cool breeze barely able to disturb the moist warmth that settles in the jungle terrain. You feel sweat begin to collect on the back of your neck and your hairline, much like the sweat causing Poe to shine a bit in the moonlight. And yet your nipples are hard and a shudder runs through your body, nerve endings clearly ten steps ahead of you, taking in some experience to which you’d yet to catch up.

“Wait a minute, look at me,” Poe suddenly orders, his fingers wrapping around your chin to lift your face toward his. You freeze as he stares down at you, eyes widening at whatever he sees.

“What is it?” you ask, voice urgent, almost frightened.

“Your pupils are wide as planets,” he mutters, distracted fingers drawing up the side of your jaw to press to the pulse point at your throat. “Your heartbeat is out of control.”

“I haven’t been able to calm down,” you say, nodding but getting more worried by the second. “Why can’t I calm down? Are you feeling the same way?”

Poe’s mouth presses into a hard line and he turns away abruptly, head tilting down.

“Oh fuck.”

“What?” You try to pull him back toward you but he doesn’t budge.

“I think…we’ve been drugged.”

Your blood runs cold and a hand flies to cover your mouth. You’d known tonight was too good to be true. Your mind races, making connections out of thin air, trying to place when and where you could have possibly come in close enough proximity to First Order agents to be compromised.

“But what – how – what can we do? What is it? Is it deadly?” You’re cut off by a sound issuing from Poe’s now curved body. You wonder at first if it’s a sob, which makes sense because you’re about ready to cry yourself. But then you realize it’s a chuckle.

“I wouldn’t say deadly. Just exceedingly inconvenient.”

“So you know what it is then?” you prompt, tugging at his shoulder some more to try and see his face. “Tell me!”

“Well for starters I’m pretty sure it was that drink the old woman gave us.”

Fuck.

Of course. What was the one suspicious thing you’d ingested all day? The fact that you hadn’t thought about it sooner makes you want to kick yourself, but you press on instead, anxious to have the matter dealt with.

“What does it do?” You hate the tremor that colors your voice. At that Poe finally turns around and you take him in all at once, trying to assess what he could have been hiding. His tall, wide-legged stance makes it easy to notice after a few seconds. As your gaze moves lower on his body you finally see the massive tent forming below the zipper line of his flight suit.

Without even being able to mentally process what you’re looking at your body responds immediately. A rush of warmth and wetness floods the apex of your thighs and the moan that you’d so far been able to hold in finally makes it way out of your throat. Poe’s eyes, which had recently gone hooded, widen in response to the lewd sound. You clap a hand over your mouth and snap your eyes back up to his face, away from the rigid shape that had made the muscles inside you contract wantonly around nothing.

“It’s made from a plant that’s meant to accelerate sex drive,” Poe says matter-of-factly.

You almost don’t hear him because your eyes have already slid back down his body, feasting on the sight of his impressive bulge. You’d heard stories of Poe’s sexual prowess, many from the man’s own loud mouth. You knew he’d satisfied many members of the Resistance, male and female alike. But you had never truly let yourself consider what he’d be like. What he’d look like. What he’d feel like…

“Why would she possibly give that to us of all people?” You feel like you’re going to cry. The feelings coursing through your body are overwhelming.

“Maybe she went around spiking many people at the party. Maybe she just thought you and I would look hot together? You can’t blame her for that one.” Poe winks at you and it diffuses some of your angst. You let out a tense laugh and shake your head.

“How do we make it stop?” you force yourself to ask, just as you force yourself yet again to look back up in his eyes. Poe averts his own, a sheepish look overtaking his face. When he doesn’t answer you step forward and grab his arm in alarm, trying not to consider the way his bicep bulges under his sleeve. “Poe?!”

“We have to…take care of it.”

You’re launching yourself away from him before he can finish the sentence. You probably knew the answer before you’d even asked the question, but his words still sent electricity through your spine.

“We can’t. That’s…that’s crazy – you’re crazy, Dameron!”

“Hey, you think I like this? Standing here like an idiot with my dick so hard I can barely see straight?”

The sexual nature of his words, spoken so plainly and without euphemism for the first time, makes a new wave of wetness pool between your legs against your will.

“Don’t….talk about it,” you say through gritted teeth, closing your eyes in an attempt to center yourself.

“What? Don’t talk about my aching cock?” he asks, almost as a challenge. He’s frustrated now, egged on by your attitude.

“Stop it.”

“Are you about to tell me you aren’t wet right now?”

You turn your back on him in a childish and fruitless attempt at blocking out his words. When you don’t reply you hear his footsteps as he approaches from behind.

“If we’re both having the same reaction, and I’m certain we are, then I’d imagine you’re practically dripping right now.”

His words would have made your eyes cross if you didn’t have them shut so tightly. A hand molds around your hip while the other grasps at the side of your neck, both working in tandem to pull your back flush against his front. The impact, though gentle, knocks the wind out of you. Or whatever wind had been in you in the first place. His lips are at your ear then and you melt into his touch.

“If we take care of this together we’ll go back to normal.”

“…back to normal?” you ask, simply repeating and not really aware of your words.

“Exactly.”

“I…I don’t know.” Poe’s hardened length is pressing into your ass now, insistent and firm behind you. The hand on your hip migrates lower to pull you against him. A swivel of his hips causes your own to follow the momentum, gyrating in their own right.

“We can be quick,” Poe coos, his voice vibrating over your earlobe where his lips are making contact with your skin. Another low chuckle sounds. “Or I can take my time if you want. Either way, I can promise you’ll enjoy it.”

There’s your cocky Fly Boy.

You wrench yourself from his grasp and take a few steadying steps away before gaining the wherewithal to turn back and face him once more. He looks supremely disappointed, arms still outstretched in the place where you had just been.

“Does this really have to be a…team effort?” you ask, face screwed up with discomfort. Poe runs a hand through his hair and casts a distracted glance about your surroundings.

“I mean I guess theoretically one could take care of themselves – ”

“Great!” you cut him off and stalk around to the other side of his x-wing. Of course he’d brought you to his ship. You look around for your own but when you can’t find it you plop yourself down on the ground.

“Are you kriffing serious?” comes Poe’s angry voice behind you as he stomps over. “We could bang this out and feel better but you’re just going to – ”

“Oh ‘bang’ this out? Real nice, Dameron.”

“You know what I mean.” You can practically hear his eye roll.

“The other side,” you say simply, lowering the zipper on your flight suit. When you don’t hear the sound of his retreating footsteps, however, you pause. “Stay on the other side of the ship, Dameron.”

He grumbles but does as you say. When you finally hear the sound of him throwing himself to the ground, you lift the tab of your zipper again. However, the loud and sudden ziiiip indicating that he’s yanked open his own garment seems ring out then in the clearing and you’re inundated with mental images of what that must look like. Poe sprawled on the ground with his flight suit open and askew. You imagine the expanse of his chest, the way the muscle would ripple in the shadows of the jungle. You’d seen him without a shirt before, the arms of his flight suit tied at his waist as he reclined beneath his x-wing making repairs. Covered in sweat and grease. The memory and the subsequent lurid thoughts have you dipping your hand down into the small opening you’ve made in your clothes, not fully comfortable enough to expose yourself entirely to the elements. When you reach the place between your thighs you have to swallow the gasp that bursts forth at the realization that Poe had been right. You’re not just wet. You’re dripping.

“Fuck.”

You think you say it quietly but a chuckle from the other side of the ship proves otherwise.

“Need any help over there?”

You ignore him and try to focus in on your own body, closing your eyes. You allow a hand to ghost over your breast as you ease a finger through your folds. You feel the insistent thrumming of your pulse even down below and your breath is shallow in your chest. The images dancing behind your eyelids show you flashes, glimpses of things you try to banish from your mind. The angle of Poe’s jaw. His faint, ever present stubble. The arch of his eyebrow. The curve of his smirk. His ass in those pants.

“Sweets…”

Poe’s voice interrupts a whimper you hadn’t even realized you were releasing.

“Poe.” Your voice is small and it cracks around his name. Your muscles are contracting but nothing you do eases the sensation. It just continues building within you. “It hurts.”

“Just come over here. I don’t even have to touch you. Just let me help you through it.”

You ponder the darkness before you, the way it envelops the other aircrafts in this makeshift parking zone. You hear a shick shick shick behind you and your cunt aches. Completely in response to the siren call of Poe Dameron’s building pleasure. You’re immediately intensely jealous. Jealous of the way that, you assumed, he was having more luck getting himself off than you were, despite the fingers inside you right now. Jealous of the way his voice didn’t crack when he beckoned you over.

But most of all jealous of the fact that he’s the one currently touching his hard cock. Not you.

You will yourself to stand up, pulling your hand out of your flight suit but not bothering to zip it back up. On jelly legs you make your way to the other side of the ship. The far side, facing away from the town square and the distant glow of the party you’ve now forgotten.

As you round the edge of the x-wing you bite your lip at the sight before you. Poe is indeed sprawled out with his suit zipped all the way down. His thick member protrudes from the bottom of the opening, a fist moving up and down rapidly, pulling from root to flushed tip in skilled motions. However the eyes that gaze up at you from under his unruly mop of curly hair are not doused with pleasure and satisfaction as you’d imagined. Instead he looks pained, almost agonized. At the sight of you he sits up a bit and does his best to give you a reassuring smile though it comes out as more of a grimace.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful, rookie.”

“That’s the drink talking,” you dismiss, despite the way your stomach swoops as you move to settle yourself down next to him, careful not to make contact. “And you know I hate you calling me rookie.”

“I’ll call you anything you want, baby, as long as you start touching yourself.”

Your cunt pulses at his words so suddenly that you almost double over. Your breathing, already ragged, speeds up as you feel the overwhelming urge to have something deep inside you. Dropping your hand into the opening in your suit you halt, however, watching Poe warily in your peripheral vision. He catches you looking and reluctantly stills the hand moving on member.

“Would sitting back to back help?” he sighs. You nod, scrambling over so that your back is to his.

This is better. This is much better, you think as you dip your hand back between your legs and into the waiting slick. You drag a finger in tight circles over your clit and do your best to calm the racing thoughts that flit back to images of Poe’s body.

The body that is currently pressed to yours, though not at all in the manner you would prefer.

Poe grunts then, making you lose your rhythm.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve wanted you, you know.”

You cut your answering gasp off at the source, not daring to make a sound lest it interrupt this information that you desperately needed to here. He interprets your silence correctly and continues.

“I’ve thought about you. When I’m in the cockpit on my way to some distant planet. When not even hyper speed can get me there quick enough before thoughts of you creep in.” He almost sounds mad, but you get it. The emotions coursing through your body along with the hormones are driving you wild and you don’t know how to feel.

“What…what are the thoughts about?” you can’t help but ask.

“I’d love to say it’s your smile or your brains or something sweet like that. And I do think about those things too, don’t get me wrong,” he says on a hoarse chuckle. “But it’s mainly your body.”

You slip a third finger inside your cunt as he says this, his words and the feeling mixing to cause you to let out an unchecked moan. You feel Poe’s body shudder against you.

“Shit Sweets you’re killing me.” You feel him tense as his hand begins moving faster. “I think about how you look poured into that flight suit. The way your tits and ass jiggle when you hop into your x-wing – fuck.” Another shudder wracks through his body and you can’t take it anymore. The way you’re touching yourself isn’t the way you usually do it. Not in those rare moments where you’ve got the sleeping quarters to yourself and you’re able to get yourself off in your bunk to images of a chiseled jawline, a clothed bulge, rippling muscles, soft, curly hair…

You abruptly pitch yourself forward to balance yourself on your knees and one hand while the remaining hand redoubles its efforts between your legs. The shift in position ends your physical contact with Poe and he swivels to see.

“What are you – ”

“Don’t turn around,” you gasp out. Your new angle works in your favor as your swollen clit becomes more sensitive, pulled down by gravity so that every swipe of your finger becomes more potent. “But for the love of gods, don’t stop talking.”

Poe is taken aback by your sudden forwardness, but he doesn’t let it faze him for long. Instead you hear his renewed efforts at jerking off as the sound of skin swiping across skin, made smoother by spit and precum, gets louder behind you.

“What do you want me to talk about? How much I wish it was your tight little pussy I was fucking instead of my fist?”

The whimper you release at that statement is unlike any sound you’ve ever made and it only spurs Poe on.

“And I just know you’re tight. I know it. And wet too, just like I guessed you were. I can hear it, baby,” he practically growls and you become intensely away of the slick, creamy sounds coming from the rapid in and out, in and out rhythm of your fingers delving into your cunt. “You’re dripping, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” You close your eyes and hear his words and wish the fingers inside you were harder, thicker, him.

“You wish it was my cock inside you, I know you do. You don’t want to admit it but you wish I was pounding into you, making you feel good. Making the ache go away.”

Your answering whine confirms his beliefs and he lets out a triumphant grunt.

“Fuck, baby. I want it, too. Bury myself deep inside of you and fuck you till that drink wears off and you’re still screaming for me, that’s how good it would be.”

“Oh gods.”

“Tell me who you’re wet for.”

“Y-you.” It comes out small. You’re shocked that you even say it, especially with how much you’ve been fighting all of this. You want it. You want it in your bones and in your blood and in your tight, spasming cunt. But you also want Poe’s friendship. Want him to tousle your hair on the way to the hanger. Want him to keep sending you funny messages over your data pad, constantly trying to outdo your own silly riddles and jokes. Want to tease him and eat dinner with him in the mess hall and slap him when he says something stupid and yell at him when he does something dangerous and cry when he doesn’t come back on time from a mission…

A sob finds its way out of your body, sandwiched between two moans. You’re not sure Poe even heard it until his voice reaches your ears again, this time gentler.

“Sweets? Is this working for you?”

You take a shuddering breath before answering.

“No.”

You practically hear Poe slump in defeat, the rhythm of his hand on his length slowing down. You bite your lip before continuing.

“Take me, Poe.”

“What?” Poe whirls around so fast you feel the air woosh over you as he disturbs it. You jump to your feet, still facing away from him and yank your flight suit over your shoulders and down your body, stepping out so it pools on the ground. He watches as you get back down on your hands and knees before him in your underwear, ass in the air, waiting for him to catch up.

“I need you, Poe. Just…just please get inside me,” you say, reaching back to pull the damp fabric of your panties aside, exposing your glistening, swollen folds for him to see.

You don’t have to ask him a third time. He’s on you so fast that you’re confused by his motions. It takes a few seconds before you realize that he’s taken your discarded flight suit and stretched it out on the ground, positioning you over it so that your hands and knees are protected from the dirt. The sweetness of this considerate action is offset by the way his fingers dig harshly into your hips, maneuvering your ass so that it lines up with his pelvis. You tilt forward, aided by pressure on your lower back which raises your click cunt to the level of his cock.

“I’m going to make you feel so good – ”

“No more words, Dameron. Just shut up and get your cock inside – FUCK.” He spears you mid-sentence and you immediately fall down onto your elbows. Your ass still in the air, held in place by his hard grip, receives a smack and you cry out, feeling no pain. Only pleasure as the sting ripples through you and into your clenching cunt. He feels it deep inside you and groans.

“Maybe you’re the one who needs to shut up, baby.” His words issue forth from gritted teeth. “Always fucking teasing me with that fucking mouth.” His hips rut into yours, taking up an unforgiving pace, while the rest of his body folds over yours so his chest pressed flush to your back. One hand closes tightly around your chin, wrenching up your head and dragging a finger over your bottom lip which has grown plump from biting. “This beautiful, bossy fucking mouth. Always telling me off, telling me what to do.”

Your tongue darts out to meet his skin and his other fingers caress your chin in response. It’s a stark contrast to the almost feral way he is still clutching your hip and driving into you over and over.

There’s almost no resistance. You’re tight, cunt clutching onto his throbbing cock in an effort to keep him buried inside, but you’re wetter than you’ve ever been and it’s making his thrusts effortless. You assume it’s a side effect of the drink. But in some part of your brain you can’t believe that a plant could possibly make a man’s cock feel as good as Poe’s does right now inside you. How a plant could cause you to feel pleasure that is not simply rooted in the way his hand drags down from your jaw to wrench your breasts out of the cups of your bra. How a plant could in any way magnify the surely already intoxicating feeling of Poe’s mouth working at the side of your neck, the curve of your shoulder.

“This working, baby? This doing it?” Poe checks in then, not relenting in his thrusts. Never relenting. “You’re squeezing me, so I know your little pussy likes it.”

A shuddering gasp kicks through you before you can answer his question and he laughs. The vibrations go straight from his cock to your clit and you whimper some more.

“Your sounds. I want to record these little sounds you’re making and play them back when I’m flying. Have you fill the space in my x-wing till I can’t take it any more.” Poe presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder, nipping and then laving the skin over with his tongue. “I’m going to hear these sounds in my dreams.”

“It’s…just…the drink,” you practically hiccup, barely able to form thoughts from the way your body has focused all energy, all recognitions of nerve endings to the space between your thighs. Poe slaps your ass again and you keen.

“Just listen to yourself, baby. No drink is making you sound this hot. That’s all you, Sweets.”

Before you can argue further you do take a second to listen. To the way your shallow breaths mix with whimpers and whines. The gurgle in the back of your throat when his cock bounces against your cervix. He’s right. It is hot. You are hot. You reach a hand down to your clit, desperate to increase the already mind-blowing stimulation, greedy for more.

“You feel so good. You’re sosososogood,” you barely manage to slur. Despite your inability to fully speak you make the attempt because you assume that if hearing your gasps is egging him on, your words will amplify it. And amplify it they do. Poe’s hips stutter for a second before he drops down heavier on you, thrusting deeper and from a more primal place. A hand savagely kneads at one of your breasts, playing with the nipple.

“I’ve never been this full. I can’t take it, I can’t…”

“Seems like you’re taking it pretty well, baby,” Poe coos, pressing more kisses to the side of your neck.

“I need m-more,” you gasp, realizing with urgency that the pressure in your core is finally building past the plateau of the last…hour? Half an hour? How long had this been going on? All night? It doesn’t matter because Poe’s inside you and he’s listening to you and suddenly you’re being slammed into with all the force he can muster. He expertly wrings pleasure from your body and you feel yourself careening toward a release that you can’t describe. Just out of reach and full of all the potential energy inherent in an object rocketing toward the moon only to soon plummet back to the depths.

“Poe! I…I…oh fuck…oh gods…I…”

“Go on, baby. Cum.”

“You ha- ahhhh. But you…y-you…” You’re babbling. You’re incoherent, not wanting to leave him behind in the blinding ache that comes before release. Your hands are fisting in the flight suit below you, desperate for something solid, something substantial to hold onto.

“Don’t wait for me, Sweets. Let go.”

And then his hands are closing over yours, fingers interlacing and squeezing down, pinning you to the ground with white knuckles that would hurt if you weren’t squeezing him right back, finally grounded in the way you needed.

And you’re cumming.

And cumming.

You feel every muscle in your body seize and spasm and bliss roils out through you in waves. You shake and stutter under him, feeling fresh wetness gush down around his cock as he fucks you through the feeling. You keep waiting for it to stop but it doesn’t, it only intensifies. It must be a side effect. Of the drink not the man. But when you feel yourself transcending the moment, the way your soul feels like it is literally floating above you, you use the out of body experience to take in the man who is causing this pleasure. The way he cages you in, bracing you through the storm of your orgasm, giving more and more to keep the flame burning as long as possible.

His muscles ultimately seize sometime around when your soul seems to sink back into your body and you’re one again enough with your senses that you can feel him paint your walls with sticky, hot cum. He doesn’t drop his weight on you like other men have after the completion of such exertions. Other men who had focused more on the destination than the journey, leaving you as wanting for release as you were wanting for air under the pressure of their body weight. Instead, Poe pulls you of you and flops to his back in the grass beside you. Without him holding you up you crumble down, face pressing into the fabric of your rumpled flight suit instead of the dirt, thanks to Poe.

A few minutes pass, silent except for the sound of your slowing gasps for air. When your breathing evens Poe sits up on his haunches to guide you back into your flight suit. You’re sticky from sweat and your combined cum, but you couldn’t care less with your bones liquified and your eyelids heavy. Gone is the buzzing ache, in its place a heavy sleepiness. When Poe lays you, now clothed, gingerly back down on the ground you automatically curl into him, allowing him to wrap his arms around your body.

Neither of you shares another word. You don’t have to.

Because shortly after you doze off. And for the first time in a long time your final thoughts before sleep overtakes you are not of the dread the morning will bring, but the solace you found in the night.

~*~

When you wake it’s to a dawn as grey as all the ones before it. Hazy with receding fog and with the promise of all the danger that looms ahead in the hours soon to follow. One of the planet’s suns has already breached the horizon, and you raise a hand to cover your eyes as you peer out from under the x-wing’s protective wing. Looking down you take stock.

Your flight suit is on but fully unzipped, leaving your chest and stomach entirely exposed, all the way down to your lower belly. A large hand covers one of your breasts, fingers twitching against your flesh as the man attached to it continues to dream. You follow the length of his arm to take in his body, tucked close into your own, equally unzipped, his broad torso showing through the gaping fabric. You watch Poe’s abdominal muscles contract with his inhales and exhales for a moment while you check in with your body.

The humming from last night is gone, that much is for certain. This makes you believe that the effects of the drink have worn off. You’re quick to question this hypothesis, however, when Poe stirs in his sleep and his hand squeezes down a bit on your breast. Your breath catches in your throat and fire shoots through your veins. A lingering symptom, you wonder. Or perhaps just a normal, biological reaction to sexual stimuli. You kick yourself mentally because of course it has to be the latter. It couldn’t be the third option which you won’t even allow yourself to fully consider.

You require a shower urgently, it occurs to you suddenly. And food, a realization that coincides with a rumbling in your empty stomach. Knowing you’ll never have a good enough excuse to extricate yourself from this gorgeous man’s arms you steel your nerves and pull away. When you stand, Poe groans and allows an eye to crack open, his hand flying up to shield his eyes from the rising sun. You’re silhouetted against the dawn and he takes in your outline. The curves of you.

“Morning, Sweets,” he says, voice hoarse with sleep this time instead of sex.

“Morning, Fly Boy,” you reply simply with a small smile. You feel a buzzing in the pocket of your suit then and pull out your mini com unit, even more portable than your usual data pad. The message that blares across the screen and you relay it before Poe can reach his own device which had similarly vibrated.

“We’ve got a new mission. Briefing is in an hour and then we take off.” The information feels stilted as it leaves your lips. How can you feel so entirely, earth-shatteringly changed and yet in many ways everything is still the same. The sun still came up. The war still rages on.

You look down at Poe and his intense expression as he watches you makes you think that he’s wondering the same thing.

Your heart thumps in your chest, this time unaided by any drugged drink or the eyes or hands of a man whose existence seemed both your making and undoing. Routine is the only thing that can calm these nerves. Routine is what is required to survive war. Routine and protocol and boundaries.

You zip up your flight suit with finality.

“See you at the briefing?” you ask, though its more statement than question.

“Of course.” Poe’s response is quiet as he continues to watch you from his reclining position. You’re still above him and at a distance, a position he often associates with you.

You smile and give him a good natured salute before turning and making you way back toward the town where you know the rest of the Resistance members are already bustling about and preparing for the day.

Another day you hope you, and Poe, will be lucky enough to outlive.

~*~

Doing a smaller taglist since it’s a Poe fic and I’m not sure if everyone on my usual taglist is into it (Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed for future work!): @paper-n-ashes @mariesackler @tlcwrites @foxilayde @mylifeisactuallyamess @sacklerscumrag @jynzandtonic @millenialcatlady @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @hopeamarsu @direnightshade @leather-flannel-liquor @fizzywoohoo @aliveandlonely @wayward-rose @safarigirlsp @emeraldsiren20 @finn-ray-nal-beads @maryforyou @maybe-your-left

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britishassistant · 3 years

Note

I wonder what the supervillains (the dorm leaders) would do if they get switched with their other self in Twisted Wonderland.

They'll meet a younger Yuu calls them senpai and probably get shivers when they hear someone shout Prefect but then realize its Yuu's role in that world.

Bonus would be if Yuuken's there too, sharing the dorm with Yuu.

Thank you for the ask, dear anon!

I decided to take a little inspo from my Villainous Paranoiac series for this one! Not a whole lot, but the idea of Twisted Wonderland Yuu being put in the infirmary after the events of Chapter Five!

(Also consider it non-canon, since it kinda involves everyone’s identities being exposed!)

Basically imagine that the supervillains find themselves in what looks like a private school infirmary, late at night. The air is buzzing with a strange energy, almost like the powers back in their home world, but...different, somehow.

The room nearly empty, save for one occupant in a cot close to the door.

Poison Queen and King immediately begin bickering over whose fault this mess is, while Royal Flush tries to get them to keep their voices down or else they’ll be detected. Charon is half a minute from going to curl up in a corner, clutching his freeze ray like a lifeline, while Octo Dealer and Snake Charmer are busy inspecting their surroundings for anything of value or that can be requisitioned into a weapon on short notice.

Tsunotaro has wandered over to inspect the sole other living being in the room with them.

He is pleasantly surprised to see what looks like a younger version of the reporter he’s so fond of, fast asleep in the infirmary cot. Their cheeks still retain the last bit of baby fat from childhood, and there’s some acne left that will fade with age. He may give one cheek a gentle poke, just to satisfy his curiosity. The sleepy mumble they let out is a little more high pitched than normal, but that’s the reporter’s voice alright.

He is less pleased to see dark circles under their eyes, or the bandages around their throat that stink of medicinal salves. If this truly is a younger version of his child of man, then why do they look so worried, even in sleep? Why are they injured and sleeping in this place of healing in the first place? They’re a mere child, barely old enough to operate a vehicle or live alone. Their only worries should be trivial things, not whatever is causing this furrow in their brow and hunch in their shoulders.

The other supervillains have begun to migrate over to where Tsunotaro is crouching in silent contemplation. King flips his eyepatch up to get a better look, whistling lowly. Octo Dealer busies himself with refilling their water glass, sneaking glances at them as he places it within easy reach. Snake Charmer pulls their pillow more under their head from where it’s almost slipped off. Poison Queen straightens the arrangement of the very tasteful bouquet on the bedside table, so the flowers’ best angle is shown to the bed’s occupant. Royal Flush carefully tucks their covers in over them.

Charon takes a picture with his tablet.

He forgot to turn off his flash.

Yuu cracks their eyes open...

To see seven adults looming over their bed in masks that resemble the ink from the overblots that haunt the Prefect’s nightmares.

Cue terrified screaming.

Snake Charmer lunges forward instinctively to cover Yuu’s mouth—

It’s only thanks to Poison Queen yanking him back that he doesn’t end up with an arrow in the shoulder.

Several more follow the first one through the window above the prefect’s cot, cold iron sharp and perfectly aimed to seriously maim if the supervillains don’t immediately get away from the screaming teenager. Rook was lax in protecting the Trickster after VDC ended, assuming there was no more danger after Roi du Poison’s overblot was saved. He will not make that mistake again.

The infirmary doors burst open, a younger Yuuken in a sleep-rumpled uniform barging in from where he decided to sleep outside because Ramshackle felt too empty and quiet to bear, but was forbidden from staying in the infirmary himself. He only has a pillow, but he brandishes it at the strange adults, fully willing to defend his dorm mate in whatever way he can.

The vanguard appears in a flurry of bats though, too many to fight off, small and vicious and furious. Their commander materializes in the center if the swarm, hovering over the head of Yuu’s cot, pink eyes brimming with a cold rage that makes his small and cute form look like it’s bursting at the seams holding something much older and angrier back. He opens his mouth, fangs long and glistening—

Only to stop short at the sight of one of the supervillains. “Malleus? Malleus Draconia?”

Tsunotaro nods warily.

“Wh-What in Twisted Wonderland are you wearing??”

Tsunotaro ducks his head like a chastened child. “I could say the same thing.” He mutters sullenly.

From there the lights get turned on, and the seven supervillains are made to explain themselves to the sleep-deprived students and staff who trickle in to see what’s going on. All six dorm leaders and one vice dorm leader vanished from their beds, setting everyone on high alert until news of these...alternate versions spread.

It is very weird for the supervillains to see all their minions as teenagers (again in some cases). It is only surpassed by how weird it is for everyone else to see their dorm heads and vice head all grown up and adult, even if they are dressed weird.

Ortho still wants to shoot them with a beam until they bring back his nii-san. Luckily Charon is able to convince him that Idia should be fine if he’s in Charon’s lair—he’s got plenty of the latest games, manga and tech for him to play with, so that should keep him occupied for a while.

Sebek is in a state of Malleus awe. He has shut down and will not restart. Silver has taken to pinching himself just to make sure this isn’t a Lilia’s cooking induced fever dream, while Lilia himself scolds Tsunotaro that he raised him better than to go around watching people sleep like that! Tsunotaro tries to use the “but I’m a supervillain” excuse, only for Lilia to shoot back “and I’m a war criminal in some nations, what’s your point?”

King is enjoying watching the overgrown lizard get scolded. Now if only the tiny Ruggie would stop asking him what injury the eyepatch is for, and making remarks about how embarrassing it would be if it were totally pointless—King does not pay his adult self so much to put up with this shit. The baby Jack also needs to stop demanding to know if his adult minion self can pull a sled faster than a moose or something...

Jade and Floyd are attempting to wind up the adult Octo Dealer, trying to see how much they can get away with compared with the normal Azul. Octo Dealer is legitimately at a loss as to how this world’s Azul doesn’t keep them in line without letting them turn to a crime or two. Then he learns about Azul’s contract business and feels a pang of commiseration and understanding.

Poison Queen, Royal Flush, and Snake Charmer are unpleasantly shocked when their dorms address them by their respective secret identities in front of their fellow supervillains out of the blue.

Poison Queen has to put up with King’s uncontrolled laughter as he finally understands the full extent of the incident with White Neige so long ago, while Tsunotaro tries to tell him he liked Schoenheit in his role as the evil dragon prince in the GaoGao dramatization. Royal Flush is about two seconds away from throttling Octo Dealer if the bastard doesn’t stop trying to make a deal to guarantee his mother doesn’t learn about her son’s private activities. Snake Charmer’s just glad his civilian identity flies under the radar enough that Charon has to try and look him up to understand who he is (and fails because he’s not on school wifi and his cellular data is bust).

Poison Queen is also getting a headache from Rook rhapsodizing about how his villain form is another, enhanced mode of beauty he is fortunate to lay eyes upon, as if he hadn’t been willing to skewer Poison Queen along with the rest of the supervillains five minutes ago. He’s at least able to amuse himself by letting Epel run away with his speculations about how he’s the buff hyper-masculine muscle for Poison Queen.

Kalim is crying that Jamil had to resort to becoming a villain in his home world! He must be so sad if he has to do that! He’s mildly cheered up when Snake Charmer tells him they work together on schemes, and that Snake Charmer is actually reasonably happy with his chosen vocation—and then he begins panicking that Jamil will like that world so much, he won’t want to come back.

Royal Flush is glad his counterpart at least has good people around to look after him, even if it is odd to have young versions of Trey and Cater trying to mother hen him despite the fact that he’s the older one now. At least Ace and Deuce acting up seems more fitting now considering their age than it ever did on their adult selves.

Ace huffs a sigh and leans on Yuu’s shoulder. “This is a mess, huh Prefect?”

“You said it.” Yuu replies. “I just wanna sleep forever.”

The supervillains go still.

“I’m sorry,” Snake Charmer says carefully. “But isn’t Enma-san the Prefect?”

“No?” Yuuken replies, confused. “Yuu’s the prefect of Ramshackle Dorm. I’m their vice— or would be, if we had any other students apart from them, me, and Grim.”

Octo Dealer laughs, sounding slightly strained. “Ah, apologies, but you see, that isn’t possible. It can’t be. Yuu isn’t—”

“But I am the prefect, Azul-senpai.” Yuu the Prefect says. “I’ve–I’ve always been the prefect.”

There’s a stunned silence.

Royal Flush places his head in his hands. “What the fuck.”

Back in the Supervillain AU universe, Yuu the Reporter sneezes sharply while trying to wrangle five frightened teenagers, one frightened-but-playing-tough twenty year old, and one confused however-old-he-is-but-younger-than-Tsunotaro fae.

They wonder what the chill down their spine is.

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fvrxdrm · 3 years

Text

.•*Friends to Lovers on Holidays with Leon Kennedy*•.

Happy Single Asses’ Day!!!

Pairing: Modern!Leon x F!Reader

Warning(s): NSFW

*****

“Cheers to us single fuckers!”

The clinking of wine glasses subtly intertwined with the voices of the actors in a horribly-done “horror” movie that was running on the television as you and Leon briefly joined them together before letting the tang of sweet, bitter, and sour wine hit your tongues. And when they did, you moaned in satisfaction.

“Not bad.”

“It better not be. This shit costed, like, $100.”

Leon grabbed the wine bottle in front of him and went on to refilling yours and his glasses respectively.

“My wallet’s fucking crying,” he continued.

“Hey, don’t bullshit me now. Jack Daniel’s costs $50.00 and I don’t hear you complaining. And from what I remember you buy five of ‘em,” you retorted back hitherto taking a small sip of your drink.

“For your information I only buy one bottle now. Had the president not let us quit going on missions your statement would’ve been correct.”

It was true. Ever since the New York incident, bioterrorism had gone down and those rare times where an occurrence would go down somewhere in a small region on earth the BSAA would be sent, sometimes even bringing one of the newer DSO agents to help them with the cases. And so, with the conclusion that the count was dying at a leisure pace, the government decided there was no need for their veteran agents to be sent on missions unless they were lethal and needed someone who was as exceedingly experienced as you on the field and sanctioned both you and Leon to only do office work until further notice.

“I mean, yeah, true… Pass me the bowl?” With eyes still glued to the T.V., Leon reached out to grab ahold of the large bowl of popcorn and blindly looked for your hand until he finally felt the bottom of the bowl touch a surface, letting it go once he felt the weight shift lighter.

“This is bullshit. Who the fuck just crawls on the ground after tripping while the killer is literally right behind them? Like, fucking 5 inches away from them! I would’ve stood up and ran.”

The movie had been going for about half an hour now and Leon couldn’t be more amused at how you reacted at every scene where the characters’ brains seemingly flew out of their heads. He wasn’t paying attention to the film. He’d watch this way, way, way, way back anyway and he knew how stupid it was so he just entertained himself by listening to your rants and laughing (also getting smacked every now and then).

“Oh my god! Why the fuck does she keep screaming?”

“You know what, I wouldn’t care if he gets killed.”

“Of course, the phone just had to be dead.”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now!? Why the fuck are you making out while a psycho is literally out there to sheesh kebab you?”

“Oh my god, I just lost my brain cells.” And so on and so forth…

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Leon muttered with a smirk, popping a chip in his mouth as he turned his gaze towards the movie.

“Well, I didn’t know it was that bad. I thought it was one of those movies that are so bad they’re good,” you defended as you swigged the rest of the wine that filled a portion of your glass. Your friend just snickered in response, stretching his arms and legs and smiled in fulfilment once he heard the crack of aging bones and staring narrow-eyed at the credit screen in front of him.

Words became trapped inside your heads. You didn’t know what to do from here. The only thing you planned was watching a movie for Valentine’s day – or Single Asses’ day as you call it – and fight shy of anything revolving around romance whether it be some sort of song or movie or something.

You both had been unlucky when it came to romance and intimacy. The closest you had to love were some one-night stands with random strangers and even that was far away from said emotion. Your jobs were complicated and when you both had started in the agency years after the Raccoon City incident, it already began taking a toll on your heads and continued to up until the incident in New York. And so, relationships were the last thing you worried about. Though, that didn’t mean your hearts wouldn’t race every once and a while. Truth be told you caught feelings halfway through your career, both of you. You sometimes entertained the idea of you and your best friend being together while he had conflict between you and Ada. Both of you were people he couldn’t let go of but he felt like one was superior to the other and his brain scrambled around for a bit until the day he almost lost you. It was the day disease almost took over the world: Tall Oaks and China. That was the day he realized just how much you meant to him.

“So, um… I should go now. I’ll see you around.” Leon stood up from the couch and was about to head out your apartment door until he felt something warm enclose around his wrist. He turned around to find your pretty face looking sheepish and pleading – pink creeping from your neck to the tip of your ears.

“I-it’s already late and I… I don’t think you’re in the right condition to drive. You can stay here if you want.” The blush on your face darkened even more and your eyes suddenly found interest on your tiled floor, your grip around Leon loosening. Seeing as how abashed you looked right now, he playfully simpered and decided hey, I teasing is fun!😀

“You don’t think I can drive myself home while drunk? Haven’t you seen me in action back in New York?” He spoke.

All enervation and intoxication suddenly voided out of your body; eyes bulging out of their sockets as his statement caught you unwary for a second. Incoherent words stumbled out of your mouth and none were piecing together to form an acceptable response.

“I’m just playing. I get your intentions. You seriously need to chill the fuck out,” Leon finally said after a few enough rambles were pitched into the room ceaselessly.

Your shoulders sagged and the tension that rapidly built up in you were unfettered in a matter of seconds. “Jesus,” you murmured. “You know how I get when I’m drunk.” Leon continued in his bursts of loud laughter and it only made you sink into your seat even more.

“I’m sorry… You’re just so freaking cute!”

Whoops… Didn’t mean for that to come out…

Leon’s fit of hysterics died down in a trice, feeling like a twelve-year-old whose embarrassment was so immense after getting rejected and being made fun of in front of the whole school that he’d rather melt in a puddle where he can be forgotten.

“I-I’m sorry. That just…flew out of nowhere. I- “

“It’s fine. At least I’m not the only tomato here, right? And um… Thanks… For the compliment,” you said, face burning another 100°C.

“Well, uh,” Leon scratched the nape of his neck and shoved his free hand in his pockets where each of his fingers twiddled with one another, “wanna chat?”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’m going to be bed anytime soon, unless you’re really tired.”

“No, I’d love for you to accompany me tonight,” he replied.

“Okay, come back here you himbo.” You patted the empty space on the couch Leon previously sat on and smiled at him once he made himself comfortable with his feet resting on your coffee table and hands finding contentment in providing itself as a pillow for his head. “So, how’s life?”

“Okay, okay…fine I’ll…haha…do it.”

A few minutes had passed, talking being the only thing you’d done up until Leon tackled and attacked you with tickles on your sides.

“You, Leon Scott Kennedy,” a giggle fell past your lips, “are…”

“Are?”

“…a fucking…idiot!” Leon fell in a daze at your words and while he was at it you took advantage of his vulnerability and shoved him down to the floor with you collapsing on top of him. Only when he felt the softness of your carpet and the hardness of your floor did he bring himself out of his stupor.

“You sneaky little shit-“ He was about to place both of his hands on your waist and flip you two over when his wrists were suddenly grabbed and pinned above his head not even a second after he blinked.

“Uh uh, not so fast. You really think you could get away with this, don’t you?” A smug grin pulled the corners of your lips. Leon sighed.

“Fine, you win.”

Silence had taken over the room once more, the muffled chirping of crickets outside the closed windows the only sound filling in the missing gaps. Though the light that gave life to your apartment was dim, the distance between your faces was enough for Leon to take in every detail that defined the complexion of your face: from the lines that explicated the years and hardship you had been through, to the little dimples beside your lips that he was sure was as deep as the Pacific Ocean. From the constellation of cute freckles that flecked your cheeks and the bridge of your nose, to the pink hue that gave light to them. You were beautiful and there was no doubt it was one of the many things he admired about you. And there was also no doubt that he wasn’t afraid to voice it out while he laid flushed beneath you.

“You’re cute. You know that, right?”

“Mhm, I’m gonna be hot when I’m sixty.” You giggled at your own joke but when you saw just how awestricken your friend was by you, your smile immediately dropped and you were left flustered on top of him in diffidence and nervousness. And because of your oblivion, your hold on his wrists slackened and he took no time flipping the two of you over and switching up the roles.

“I knew you would fall for that, princess,” Leon remarked and before you could even let out a single letter, he already had his lips smashed onto yours.

A soft gasp fell from your lips but it didn’t take long for you to succumb to the feeling of his supple and slightly chapped lips.

In that kiss was the sweetness of passion, a million loving thoughts condensed into a moment, and in that moment, you were in your pure and vulnerable selves.

It was slow and subtle at first, lips delicately lingering against each other for a moment of lip-lock until a relentless appetency set fire in your bodies. It became sloppy and messy and the abiding flavor that ghosted on your tongues left you wanting more and more of what you could give.

Hands set sail on plump skin and it wasn’t long until pieces of clothing slowly began replacing the space on your carpet where you once laid, Leon having carried you to sit you down on your couch.

“Are you sure you’re comfortable with this? I don’t want to push you into something you don’t want,” Leon whispered against your kiss-swollen lips, the ghost of his breath sending a delicious chill down your spine.

“I want to… Please?” And that did it for him.

He let out low growl from the depths of his throat before battering your neck with tickling kisses and bites were marks were left as graves created by the inner animal that was housed inside of his body. The brush of his skin against yours arised the short hairs that adorned your own and it didn’t help that the evening cold would tease past you in a speed that sent you shivering to your toes.

“Leon, please.”

“Please what, babe?” Leon kissed along your thighs while he looked at you through the shortness of his lashes.

“I need you, please.”

“In a minute, babe. I fucking need to taste you,” he mumbled, voice raspy with lust and desire.

You anticipated with what was bound to happen next with closed eyes and lip restrained in between teeth. However, no matter how much you prepared yourself for the feeling of his tongue touching your folds, your back still arched at the feeling and a soft moan sounded from an open mouth, hands finding home on Leon’s disheveled hair.

“Oh, fuck!”

“That’s it, baby. Moan for me, moan my name.” That you did. You let a string of curses unknowingly escape your lips along with his name slipping in between them as he lapped your sex with a type of hunger even he couldn’t describe for the life of him. He simply couldn’t get enough of your taste; getting you off once, twice, thrice, until you couldn’t take it anymore and pulled him by his hair before having a sample taste of your own through his lips. And while he was busy savoring your mouth once more, you pushed him on the floor again and straddled his hips impatiently where you felt the twitch of his cock touch your pussy.

“Please, Leon. I want you. I want you so bad. I wanna feel your cock inside me, now.”

“It’s all yours, sweetheart. It’s all yours.”

Permission granted.

Your hand grasped the base of his cock and stroked it a few times before lining the tip up to your entrance, pushing it down once you were sure enough that his dick would just slide in you, and you both moaned at the stretch and the tightness that surrounded him.

“Fuck, babe, you’re so tight,” Leon grunted.

You let yourself give in to his astonishing size before you slowly began bouncing up and down his length, your eyelids falling close to the feeling of his dick hitting just the right spots with neither of you trying. You moved in sync together, his hips propelling into yours and gradually speeding up as indulgence replaced the throbbing of your walls at their painful expansion.

“Fuck, Leon, shit.”

This was good, painfully good, but somehow it still wasn’t enough for Leon so he decided to take control again and turned you to your back where he can finally satisfy both you and him much to your contentment. He pounded into you with so much force and the tips of his fingers dug into your skin that you were sure you were going to be sore the next day at work and bruises were going to be a part of your attire for a while. Oh, well, I’m just going to call in sick tomorrow.

“You’re taking my co – ngh – ck so good, baby girl. So – ngh – good.”

Mewls left your mouth at the sound of his broken words and a familiar tight warmth filled your stomach, your moans getting louder and louder each time Leon gave a powerful blow.

“Leon, please, please, please, I’m so close – shit!”

“I know, baby, I know. Just hold on a little longer for me.”

After a few more thrusts, they became sloppy, you noticed, and all pent-up emotion boiled over into one strong orgasm that has you writhing and shaking in relief.

“Well, fuck. That was good,” you spoke in between heavy breathing, the blanket you took from inside your couch now covering your glistening wet bodies.

“Best sex I’ve ever had if I’m being honestly,” Leon added, chuckling despite struggling to get some air himself.

“Yeah. But seriously though,” you steadied your head in your hand and began tracing random doodles on the exposed skin of his chest as you spoke, “Is this going to be a one-time thing or…”

“Well, to be honest, I wanna go further from just being a one-night stand. You know, a real relationship and all that. But if you want it to be a one-time thing, I’ll respect that.” You could tell Leon was disheartened at the thought of him being a one-night stand only but your intention was just the same as his and now, you were sure about your decision.

“I wanna go further than this, too. I love you so fucking much.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page then.” Leon placed a chaste kiss on your lips before he pulled you on top of him and lulled you both into a deep slumber.

*****

Lmao this was longer than intended XD.

#leonkennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon+kennedy+imagine #leon kennedy x you #leon+kennedy+fanfic #leon kennedy imagines #leon s kennedy x reader #leonxreader #resident evil #leon+s+kennedy+x+reader

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jamespotterthefirst · 3 years

Text

October 31st (Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2.3K Warning: Language Premise: Ethan Ramsey doesn’t do costumes... except maybe for her.

A/N: A pointless Halloween fic

A/N2: For Day 28 of @choicesoctoberchallenge2020. The prompt is “Costume”.

1. Intern Year

Ethan resisted a groan as an atrocious, remixed version of The Monster Mash blared through the speakers, eliciting a cheer from the drunken crowd. Characteristically, he pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes shut as he wondered why he decided to venture out on the worst night of the year. Perhaps he needed a drink that badly after another full day of dealing with interns.

“Time for a refill, Dr. Ramsey,” a voice said over the music.

Ethan hated the way his pulse quickened at the sound.

Doing his best to appear collected, he shot what he hoped was an impassive glance at the figure now standing beside him at the bar, the floral notes of her perfume already caressing his every sense. One single glance at her, however, was enough to shoot all efforts of appearing aloof straight to hell.

She leaned casually against the bar, clad in a sensuous, forest green number that molded to every curve of her body and ensnared every bit of his attention. Dark green leaves embellished every surface of the sinfully short dress, tapering off into delicate, curly vines along her exposed shoulders and arms. Her glossy, dark hair was hidden away beneath a cascade of long, auburn waves that made her eyes appear greener still.

“Wig,” she explained with a small laugh when Ethan continued to stare.

At last, he pried his eyes away, feeling his neck flare with heat. Unsure of what else to say, he feigned indifference as he asked, “And what are you supposed to be, Rookie?”

Aside from fucking irresistible, his idiotic, addled brain added on impulse.

He could see Lilac's jaw go slack in a way that was almost comical but somehow managed to be entirely too adorable.

“You're kidding, right? I'm Poison Ivy.”

Ethan had known that. He had been, after all, a comic-book obsessed teenager once. If someone had told him back then that he would one day witness the sexiest version of the character imaginable, his head would have caved in on itself. Adult Ethan, it seemed, was no better because his eyes fell on her once again, unable to resist her magnetic pull.

Lilac, however, was too busy looking at the dancefloor. She nodded toward her group of friends, dancing, laughing, and contributing to half of the noise in the bar.

“We were all supposed to be Batman villains but Bryce and Landry got lazy. They put on a Thing One and Thing Two shirt and called it a day.”

Ethan followed her gaze to where the young surgeon had peeled off the aforementioned shirt, relishing in the attention that decision was earning him from a gaggle of girls nearby. The other one Lilac had mentioned stood awkwardly off to the side, too pale and and gangly to ever be Lahela's counterpart.

“More like tweedle dee and tweedle dum,” he muttered.

Lilac met his eyes at once and to his delight, she laughed, the sound sending his stomach into a dive. It was already maddening enough that the sound was entirely too attractive, but Ethan felt a swelling sense of satisfaction at being the one to inspire it.

When she sobered up, her green eyes remained on his, humor melting into a pensive expression. She continued to watch him with the conviction of someone discovering a new secret. He would have given anything to know what she was thinking at that very moment.

“What about you?”

“Hmm?”

He had been distracted by her full lips and by how fitting the damn costume was. Much like every weak-willed man in his comic books, Ethan would have risked absolutely everything to kiss her.

“No costume?”

“God no,” he spat, inspiring another little laugh.

“Never say never,” she told him in a sing-song voice.

“I can confidently say never.”

______________

2. A year later.

They paused outside the door to Bryce's apartment, the muffled sound of music and laughter making its way to the hall. Ethan briefly wondered if his neighbors would complain enough to derail the whole affair. It would mean he could go back to the peace and quiet of his home.

As if reading his mind, Lilac turned to face him, a knowing smile pulling at her lips. God, he loved it when she looked at him that way.

“You're not getting out of this,” she reminded him, her fingers moving to play with the orange Ascot tie she had forced him to wear.

“We're well into November. There was no need to dress up.”

As usual, Lilac rolled her eyes lovingly.

“It's hardly dressing up when all we did was put you in a white sweater you already owned, babe,” she explained for the hundredth time. Ethan tried to scowl at the pet name, but he was beginning to enjoy it. Instead, he relaxed into her touch, trying his best not to follow the lazy path her fingers made on his chest. “You wouldn't even wear a wig, so it doesn't count. As for the party being this late, it was the only night we all had off. And we'll be damned before we let a whole year pass us by without dressing up.”

She finalized that sentence with a searing kiss to his neck. His hands banded around her waist reflexively, pulling her soft body flush against his. In their time together, he had avidly learned the many ways to drive her just as crazy.

“You and I can still dress up,” he murmured darkly against her ear.

Lilac shivered, to his immense delight.

“Are you suggesting role play, Dr. Ramsey,” she returned in a poor attempt to mock him.

The formal mode of address, uttered in a low, breathy voice against his ear, made his blood buzz for her. More maddening still was the short, purple dress she wore along with the auburn wig that made a reappearance after a year.

“Got a thing for redheads?” she asked, correctly guessing the contents of his thoughts yet again.

Ethan smiled crookedly down at her. “I got a thing for you.”

The words rang with sincerity and an overwhelming sense of relief at finally being able to say them out loud, without any fear of consequences.

Lilac, for her part, looked as though she wanted to shove him against the wall and kiss him fiercely, but the erupting cheers from inside the apartment interrupted their exchange from advancing further.

“Mystery Gang in the house!” Bryce, dressed as a pirate, hollered as soon as they walked through the door. Everyone else cheered and hooted, the sounds no doubt fueled by the contents of the many red solo cups around the room.

“You guys look adorable!” Sienna commended over the music, greeting each of them with a friendly hug. “Fred and Daphne makes so much sense for you two.”

“Because we solve mysteries for a living?” Ethan asked, voice deadpan.

“Nah, because those two were a thing long before any of the others found out,” Elijah said as he joined them.

Lilac laughed out loud, the sound teetering on the edges of relief. She had been nervous, just like Ethan had been, that her friends would be awkward around them now that they knew of their relationship.

By the way they easily joked with him and included him in conversation throughout the night, their concerns had been for nothing. They even helped Lilac pressure him into dancing a modern pop song he had heard many times on the radio. Not that he needed much convincing when he would gladly do anything just to see her radiant smile directed his way.

By midnight, the party had dwindled down to drinks and board games. There was a raucous consensus to play Clue, which caused Bryce to roll his eyes.

“Of course the diagnosticians want to play the nerdiest game.”

Ethan rolled up his sleeves in preparation, which earned him a coy and borderline lustful look from Lilac. “You're just bitter that we're playing something other than beer pong, scalpel jockey.”

Elijah let out a surprised yet impressed laugh, wasting no time to high five Ethan. Even Bryce couldn't help but grin.

“Trash talk all you want, old man. I'm more than just a pretty face.”

When it came to Clue, however, Bryce had no chance against Ethan, who analyzed every player with sharp precision and correctly guessed the murderer, the room, and the weapon. Several games later, Ethan easily proved victorious while Bryce only laughed graciously, raising his palms up in defeat.

When even the board games ebbed into quiet conversation at the end of the night, Lilac sat on his lap, circling her arms around his neck. They sat like that for minutes, enjoying the nuances of being that annoyingly cute couple at a party.

“Thank you for dressing up for me,” she said as she pressed a chaste kiss on his cheek.

Even that sent his heart into a tumultuous rhythm.

“Only for you,” he murmured. “And as a one time deal only.”

______________

3. Many years later.

Ethan plastered the fur-lined hat on his head, a perfect complement to the fur-lined everything else he was currently wearing. Luckily, fall time in Boston was cold enough that the ensemble would prove to be practical as they walked the streets. He stepped into the hallway, not bothering to check his reflection. There was no doubt he looked utterly ridiculous.

But he didn't care.

He would do anything for her and for the unbridled joy in the eyes he loved so much.

Lilac was already waiting when he entered the living room, her smile impossibly wide as she glanced him over. It was the exact reaction he expected and he couldn't help but grin too.

“Is this how it's supposed to look?”

“Yes!” she all but shrieked in delight. The magenta cape of her costume fluttered behind her as she rushed to him, her body crashing against him in an overjoyed hug. “I love you so much for doing this.”

The words still sent a thrill through Ethan, as strong as the first time he heard them. Heart thundering wildly at his chest, he leaned down to kiss her, just because he could.

When they pulled apart, she watched him through half-closed eyes, her teeth catching her lush bottom lip. All Ethan wanted to do was carry her to their bed and tear off the costumes they had spent so much time perfecting. Inwardly, he marveled at how everything had changed over the years, but there were some things that remained the same.

Instead, he captured one of her plaits between his fingers. “These people we're dressed up as,” he started, gently trailing the ridges of her braid. Lilac watched him, captivated by his every word. “Do they end up together?”

She allowed a laugh. “We've watched nothing but that movie for a week straight.”

Ethan shrugged, allowing a sheepish grin. “I tune it out thirty minutes in every time.”

More laughter and Ethan decided then that he could hear the sound forever and not get enough.

“Don't let Dolores hear you say that,” she warned with one final kiss. She moved to break apart from their embrace but he stopped her.

His wife looked at him expectantly and Ethan frowned, suddenly doubtful.

“Do you think she'll like it?”

Lilac's curious expression melted into a fond smile. “She's going to love it,” she assured him, leaning in to press a sweet kiss on the tip of his nose.

Not surprisingly, Lilac had been right because moments later, a delighted shriek of laughter announced the arrival of their toddler daughter. Her godmother trailed close behind, crouching over in an attempt to fix the blue tulle that trailed along the floor as the child ran towards her father. It was futile and Sienna sighed in defeat, shooting Lilac an amused look.

“It's pointless,” Sienna laughed. “There's no stopping little Lolly when she sees her father.”

Proving that point, his daughter flung herself into Ethan's arms and cried, “Dada!”

“Hello, princess,” Ethan laughed as she pressed her version of a kiss on his cheek.

“I'm Elsa,” Dolores corrected sagely.

“Yes, babe,” Lilac added with mock seriousness. “You are in the presence of Queen Elsa of Arendelle. Have some respect.”

“My apologies, Your Majesty,” Ethan said to his daughter with such formality that the child laughed. Sienna watched the exchange with a watery smile, failing to repress a squeal.

A loud roar coming from the threshold informed them that their son had joined them. Sienna laughed as Jonah ran around the room, the antlers of his costume bobbing wildly as he moved. At last, he stopped right before Lilac, who picked him up in her arms.

“I didn't know reindeers roared,” she laughed, swaying her son in her arms.

Jonah roared again to demonstrate that reindeers could indeed roar formidably, at least when impersonated by a five year old. “I'm a Halloween reindeer,” he explained. “He roars to be spooky, but just for today.”

The adults laughed. “You're a good big brother, Jonah,” Lilac informed him with a kiss, closely followed by a tickle.

“Lolly wanted to be Elsa so bad so I wanted to help,” their son said through a giggle, as though it was the most obvious explanation in the world.

It was for Ethan.

As Sienna ushered them together for a picture, Ethan looked at his family, everyone smiling radiantly and far more beautifully than the moon itself. Little Dolores clung to him, laughing and looking happier than he had ever seen her.

His wife caught his eye and shot him a knowing but proud smile. Ethan knew she was remembering the cynical, jaded version of himself who had confidently proclaimed he would never do this.

Ethan had never been happier to be proven wrong.

______________

A/N: I HC they name their daughter after Dolores and nickname her Lola/ Lolly

Once upon a time I used to write for another pairing who canonically dies on Halloween. You have no idea how happy I am to write for a pairing who’s alive and well lol.

Thank you so much for reading! I love these time hop fics so much. I wrote another one for Ethan x MC a long time ago that I will publish on my birthday in November :)

Finally, Chapter 10 of the Pictagram is coming soon. It might be two parts... Yikes. Thanks for waiting so patiently for it! Life has been crazy over here

_______________

tags: @openheart12 , @takeharryandgo , @trappedinfanfiction, @aestheticartsx, @aworldoffandoms, @paulfwesley, @myusualnerdyself, @rookie-ramsey, @ohchoices, @colossalpainintheass, @enmchoices, @i-bloody-love-drake-walker, @choicesfanaf, @openheartthot, @octobereighth, @nazarihoe, @utterlyinevitable, @kites-in-our-skies, @maurine07, @schnitzelbutterfingers, @doilooklikeiknow, @snesdudes, @kingliam2019, @perriewinklenerdie, @cinnamonspongecake, @choicesstan1, @queencarb, @ethxnrxmsey, @missmiimiie, @jens-diamondchoices, @adamsdumortain, @apphia12, @kalogh, @lucy-268, @binny1985, @queenbirbs, @honeyandsunfl0wers, @newcolonies, @lilyvalentine, @rigatonireid, @interobanginyourmom, @parkerattano, @custaroonie, @nikki-2406, @lilypills, @chasingrobbie, @nooruleman, @lonely-mxxnlight, @ruinedbypixels, @shadynaturehilariouscookie, @tsrookie, @mvalentine, @professorkingslay, @drakewalkerfantasy, @casey-v, @helloblueeyedcat, @mysticaurathings, @blossomanarchy, @thegreentwin, @togetherwearerapture, @rookieoh, @ramseysno1rookie, @rookiemarsswiftie, @natashajaniphil, @mysticalgalaxysstuff, @hatescapsicum, @choices-lurker, @kiara-36, @junehiratas, @danijimenezv, @macy-ray85, @adrex04, @canigetanawwjunk, @sanchita012, @overwhelminglyaquarius , @scorpiochick8, @skylarklyon, @starrystarrytrouble, @mercury84choices, @drariellevalentine, @ethanrcmsey, @lion-ess24, @aarisa-frost, @kaavyaethanramsey , @udishaman, @a-crepusculo, @quacksonlover

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #playchoices #my writing #ethan ramsey fanfiction #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfiction

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innocent-chris-evans-slut · 4 years

Text

Trust me

Chris Evans x Actress! Reader – Requested

My Masterlist ✨

Word Count: 3,2k

Type: fluffy and smut

Summary: Y/N have been engaged to Chris Evans’ newest movie. The only thing that scares you is the sex scene; when you open up to your co-star, he’s more than understandable. Though he really doesn’t like girls faking with him.

Warning(s): fingering

When your agent said there was the chance for you to be casted in a movie with Chris Evans -the Chris Evans- you immediately said yes, no matter which the conditions were.

Then you found out who would you be playing an who would he be playing.

Long story short, you were supposed to play Chris’s love interest throughout the movie. And there was no problem so far. Actually, you liked playing the girl he was craving for. What you didn’t know, or better, what the director didn’t tell you was that you were having a scene of sex with Chris.

Better, Chris’ character would have sex -really rough sex- with your character.

The day your agent handed you the final script, you stood in silence and with eyes wide-opened up to the last page. You saw, you read things Christian Gray would have paled imagining.

Ropes, wax, fire, ice: everything beyond the imaginable was in there.

“If you think I’ll lay undressed in front of the whole crew, you’re wrong”, you sat down on the couch holding a glass of red wine in your right hand, “My boobs will be displayed on the screen. Do you think I like the idea?”

“You’re the one you agreed without even reading the script. This isn’t my fault”, your best friend, and agent, Carla stated taking a sip from his cocktail. She sent you a scolding look and chuckled when you put on your puppy face, “I’m not going to save your ass this time”.

“Shouldn’t it be your job?”

“Yes, but I am also your best friend…so, no. I’m not doing it.”

You were about to reply, referring to the money you gave her every month, when your doorbell rang, “You’re so lucky, girl”.

You came from Belmont and at the moment you were shooting in Los Angeles, so you had to rent a flat for you and Carla. It wasn’t a mansion, neither the tiniest flat you had ever seen, but it was comfortable you two -especially because back home you had spent a lot of time together and you were used to each other wandering around with only a shirt on.

“I’ll have a refill”, she warned you and headed to the kitchen.

“Then I’ll remind you which are your tasks as my agent!” you shouted smiling while getting closer to the door. You turned the handle and opened it; on the doorway of you rented flat there was Chris Evans holding a pack of beers, “Hi!”

“Hey…uhm, can I get in?” his hand went at the back of his neck and on his face an embarrassed smile spread.

“Sure!” you put yourself on the side and motioned him to come in, “Please, make yourself comfortable”, you lead him to the living room and sat down, “What brings you here?”

“Tomorrow’s shooting”, he replied handing you a bottle of beer opened by him, then he opened another one for him, “Mark decided to move up the last scenes of the movie…” Chris knew you were new in the industry -only two years of experience in a sitcom-, so he wanted you to be as comfortable as possible with him before shooting, “And the sex scenes are tomorrow in the afternoon, around three”.

You moved your eyes away, finding interesting the bottle of beer in your hand, and nodded at him. Silence hit both of you; neither of you knew what to say to make the situation more comfortable, yet you hoped he would be the one doing it.

He set his beer down on the coffee table and turned completely to you: “For being your first role on the big screen, it is a very important one. I want to make sure you’re comfortable with the crew and, most importantly, with me in view of the scenes we’re shooting tomorrow”, Chris placed two fingers under your chin and lifted it up, making eye contact with you, “And you’re not comfortable”.

“The problem isn’t you. I just…I don’t feel comfortable with…being naked on the set”, you blushed while confiding in your co-star, none other than your favorite actor -the one who inspired you becoming an actress as well, “I-I don’t like being watched by strangers”, you gave up, feeling tears at the corners of your eyes, “It is something personal…”

“Hey, listen to me!” he waited for you to look into his eyes before keep going: “I’ll have a talk with the director and ask him to limit the number of people on set in the afternoon”.

You shyly smiled at him and silently thanked him for the support he was showing to you.

“So, now…are we planning on getting drunk or what?” he opened another bottle of beer and handed it to you, then he opened one for himself. He quickly glanced at you, still uncertain on what to do, “Drink, or I’ll have to force the beer into you”, he threatened you, nudging at you.

You took a drink and looked at him, after a few seconds you both burst out laughing, tilting your heads back.

The next day, at lunch, you didn’t eat much as you were used to. A roll combined with a chicken salad was all that you ate that day as you prepared the sex scenes with Chris. You still hadn’t seen him, and you hoped for it since thanks to him, ad his words, you had been able to sleep peacefully -as a baby, your mother would say.

You were currently sat down on the couch in your trailer with your agent, quickly going through the script when someone knocked at your door, “Get in!” you shouted, gaining a bothered gaze from Carla.

It rapidly changed into a panicked one, and finally into a pleased one, “I have to make a call”, she warned you and got out of the trailer, leaving you alone with your guest.

There was some kind of wall between the small living room you were in and the front door and since it didn’t allow you to see who had just entered the place. You got to know it once he had approached you.

It was Chris, the man you had been searching for since that morning.

“Hey”, he greeted you with a quick hug and a kiss on your cheek -and you did the same, “Are you ready? We’ll start in fifteen minutes. Actually, I came here to bring you on set, not before…” from behind his back, Chris put out an unopened bottle of Jack Daniels, “Having drunk a couple of shots”, and he placed down on the table two little glasses and the bottle. Then he started pouring out the brown liquid into the glasses and, once done, he grabbed both of then, handing one to you. “Who said this will help?” you asked, after having swallowed the drink all together, “God, it burns…”

“A friend of mine. Always drink before shooting a sex scene, he would say”, Chris replied, pouring out another drink, “That’s for you”.

“Why you only one and I two?” you didn’t refuse it, instead, you brought to your lips and let the less burning liquid going down your throat, “And I have to remember you we’re not shooting the entire scene. Only the beginning”.

“And the tub scene, have you forgot about it?” he reminded you, “Speaking of which, have you practiced faking an orgasm?” he chuckled and crossed his arms over his broad chest, waiting for an answer from you.

The alcohol was already having an effect on you, in fact neither of you was expecting that kind of answer from you: “Do you wanna hear how good I am?”

Alcohol had always made you horny and that situation wasn’t helping the cause. “Then…I’m ready. Are you?”

“Yeah, I’m ready…I think”, you grabbed your script and your phone from the coffee table and followed you co-star as he exited your trailer; you stopped locking it and after sent a message to Clara, warning her you were heading to the set. “So…have you talked to the director? I mean, not that you had to, but-“

“Yes, Mark assured me it will be only him, the two of us, the two choreographers, and only two costumers. All the others have been said to leave”, he told you grabbing your arm and making you turn to him, “I know you’re a great actress. Show it to everybody and trust me”, Chris looked you straight into your eyes and for a moment you could swear that there was something more behind his words.

A hidden meaning, that, then, you couldn’t completely understand.

You walked until you reached the door of the studio and the built man let you enter first, then he closed the door behind his back. Chris followed you next to the choreographers and you vanished behind the curtains of your dressing room.

“Chris!” Mark, the movie director, yelled and approached him as he was being prepared at the makeup table, “You’ll be the first one entering the scene”, then he started telling him the scene, once again: “Jim is in the bath tub and yells Erin’s name, his maid. You ask her to join you in the tub and, although she isn’t pleased at the idea, Erin can’t help but accommodate every request of yours. She undresses herself and joins you”, the director stopped as both, Chris and him, had approached the set, ready to be played on.

Chris assigned costumers was suddenly behind him, as she helped him getting ready for the shot. Back in the dressing room, you were with your assigned costumer and she was now helping you zipping the maid uniform, “On the set you only have to pull down this zipper”, she showed you the long, easy accessible, zip she had recovered from you from another studio, “You’re not wearing a bra, so the only thing you’ll have to take off are your panties”, she motioned at the black, laced panties you were wearing underneath the dress, “Chris Evans will be the only one watching you walking naked towards him. Cameras will be behind you back”.

Once you were ready, you walked out the dressing room and met Mark, waiting for you and Chris to meet up with him, “Oh, you’re done!”

You frantically crossed your arms over your chest and quickly smiled at him. Soon after, you both saw Chris walking towards the point you were. In silence you approached the set and heard the last few tips of the choreographers as regarded the shot. The scene would be intense -as it was intended to be- and, for this reason, the screenwriters wanted you to call Chris’ character Sir and he would have called you Sweetheart. No names, afraid that you would have make a disaster.

The scene would have start right after Jim had called Erin, so you were brought at the end of the stairs, a camera following you. Your hands were shaking, and you suddenly regretted having drank before shooting.

Such a stupid idea, you thought while the director sat down on his chair. Everything went black and there was silence on set; you heard the ‘click’ of the camera and soon after the director called action.

You quickly climbed up the stairs, once on the top of them, you ran into the bathroom, from which you had heard your boss calling your name. Always careful not letting fall the tray you were holding with your left hand, and the glass full of red wine was on it; so you opened the door with your right hand. All your attempts not to let the tray fall vanished when you saw Jim -the man who had been teasing you for the past three days-, naked and in his bath tub; inevitably the tray crashed to the floor and the glass smashed against the cold marble, causing a dull noise.

“I’m bored, and alone. Would you mind joining me?” Jim didn’t look at you while asking you that indecent question, neither did him actually gave you the chance to say ‘no’ when he ordered you to get rid of your clothes and enter the tub.

“I-I don’t think…” you tried, but he coldly glared at you, shutting you up. You hadn’t other option than slowly undress yourself and get in the tub with him.

Jim welcomed you by spreading his legs, leaving enough room for you to sit in.

The water wasn’t hot as you expected, so you shivered once you had gotten in. You felt Chris’ right arm holding you close and, as you brought your back against his, his chest hair tickling you. He gave your thigh a gentle squeeze and whispered: “Trust me”.

“You shouldn’t think that much”, you felt his hand standing between your legs, forcing them open, “Instead, you should let you go more often” he slipped his fingers on your core, teasing your clit through the thin lace of your panties, “And I can help you”.

His hand had already bypassed your piece of clothing when you felt his thick and strong fingers between your folds, and you gasped in search of air. Jim’s other arm, the one free, wrapped your shoulder from part to part, preventing you to get up, either to fall in the water.

“Such a good girl”, he whispered to your ear as he forced your entrance with two of his fingers. Both the position and your natural tightness felt more than good around him. Your walls clenched together, as if they were closing the way to your g-spot, yet Jim pulled his fingers upper your channel and finally found what he was looking for. Meanwhile, you closed your eyes, tilted your head on his shoulder, and swift moans escaped your mouth.

“P-please…” you whispered to his ear, implicitly begging him to make you cum.

Jim played dirty. He always did. “Tell me what you want”, as his three fingers weren’t enough, your boss brought his thumb roughly rubbing your clit, “Use your words, Sweetheart”.

“Chris-t! Make me cum, please!” you almost yelled and you had the sensation he was smirking while bringing you to your highest point, quickly and violently thrusting in and out, you arched your back so much that your nipples almost peeked out from the water, “Please, Sir!”

When your orgasm came, the pleasure washed you over and you brought your left hand to the back of his head, poking his flesh.

“Stop!” Mark’s voice brought you back to the Earth, where you were just shooting a movie, “This was…perfect. We’re keeping it! Good job, Y/N”.

You thanked him with your shaking voice, and he gave you a questioning look, but then he called five minutes and went out, together with the camera operator. You slowly turned to Chris, whose ears and cheeks were red, “Did you just fingered me with ten people watching at us and a camera recording the scene?” you were incredulous and you did your best to keep your voice down while asking.

“Technically they hadn’t seen anything”, Chris saw your costumer approaching and whispered to you ear: “I couldn’t let a girl faking an orgasm with me”, he smirked and released you from his firm grip as he was told to get out in order to give you the right privacy. He put a toweling robe on and looked over his shoulder, to you, smiling sincerely, before disappearing behind the door of the fake room.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Carla asked you once you had reached your assigned changing room.

You had been just fingered by Chris Evans in the middle of the set.

You clearly weren’t okay.

Author’s note: there’s a ‘bonus scene’, do you want me to post that as well?

Chris Evans-tag list:

@stargazingfangirl18

#chris evans #chris evans imagine #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x reader #actress!reader #captain america #fluff #fluff chris evans

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jediofbooksandsnacks · 3 years

Text

wounds

Each scar has a story to tell.

also on AO3

This is set after Kogami returns to Japan after Sinners of the System Case 3. Season 3 had not debuted when I wrote this, uhm, some time ago.

all my thanks to @whatsyourcolor, @sandypenguin6 and @saber-of-dreams for their beta reading skills. All mistakes are mine, and I’m not a medical professional so please tell me if I mixed anything up, yes?

The wan morning sunlight drew Shinya from restless sleep. The palm of his hand rubbed over his eyes as he blinked slowly awake, his legs shifting beneath the yellow sheets in the still bedroom. Everything around him waited, as though it had caught its breath in anticipation of something soon to happen.

He dropped his hand.

The clock said it was too fucking early for this.

Next to him, Akane slept with an unburdened face. Nothing pulled her mouth tight, nothing caught her brow and then vanished when he glanced at her. This waiting game was slowly driving him crazy, but he couldn’t push her. Not on this.

He sighed. Ran a hand through his messy hair, ran his tongue over his teeth. A deep breath had him sitting up, sheets falling to his waist. The bed squeaked as his feet met the floor and he rolled his shoulder to work out a kink as the nail marks she’d left behind twinged on his back. On the way to the bathroom, he picked up his abandoned boxer briefs.

Their night had been lustful, and he couldn’t remember when he’d tossed them aside and had buried himself in her, in her scent and her body. Time stopped when he was with her and he didn’t yet know if it was a blessing or a curse. The spigot washed soap from his hands over the low hum of water refilling the toilet. Their toothbrushes were in the holder, hers looked like she needed a new one. He spat the toothpaste out, rinsed. Decided to shave later. The cotton of his boxers was loose around his legs as he returned to the bedroom.

She’d shifted while he was in there. One foot draped off of the bed and her face was buried in a pillow, her mouth opened on a small snore. A print book was on her nightstand and a glass of water stood next to it, blurring the digital time on her clock. The bubble they created together, a place where their daily responsibilities were laid outside the door, slid through his thoughts as he lay back down next to the sleeping curve of her body.

A mole stood out against her pale skin, just beneath her left shoulder blade. Gentle fingers ran across it, trailing down the naked skin of her back. In sleep she rolled over and settled against him and the pillows, her brown hair falling across her face. It was soft as he brushed it back. The smell of chemical apples lifted from her shampoo filled his nose as he kissed her forehead.

The sharpness of her eyes, the curl of her hair tucked under her ear, the slope of her shoulder in the night; he wanted to fix this in his memory, the entirety of Akane, to recall in the long nights he knew were ahead.

In a few minutes she stirred and woke. The exhalation of her breath made goosebumps prickle his skin as her eyes blinked open to meet his. Flashes of a hundred things ran through her look, and he was struck by the fact that they could discover something new each morning ahead until they were old and gray and faced that last, final discovery; if he could only ask her. If they had that luxury. One hand touched his chest as she lifted herself and kissed his shoulder with her tired mouth. As she sat up, she gave out a jaw-cracking yawn while the sheets fell back and dim morning light caught on the smooth skin of scar tissue healed on her upper abdomen.

Evidence of the night before was in the bite mark on her shoulder, the hickey bruising her right breast.

“Be back in a minute,” she said sleepily and kissed him again before she got up to go to the bathroom. The fluid lines of her back bent as she picked up her own underwear and then closed the door behind her.

When the door clicked shut he lay back, his hand beneath his head. It was a struggle to still his mind and think of nothing.

The expectation of violence had been his life, as an enforcer and then as a guerrilla. Wars had been his purpose, and he was prepared at any moment to sacrifice himself for the good of something greater. But nothing, nothing at all, had prepared him for the way he’d died last night in her arms.

Soulmates, his destiny, the One; he hated that take. It was thoughtless. Regressive. It wholesale shattered the fire and blood and meaning each person struggled with to make a life worth sharing and replaced it with a ridiculous trick of fate. But that wanting hit on something as-of-yet unspoken between them. Something that was, for all of its ups and downs, inescapably true.

The bathroom door opened and her footsteps shuffled across the carpet. The bed did not sink quite so far as she slid into it again and curled her arms around his torso and managed to tangle her legs through his. One hand drew an absent line down his chest, and then back up, as her breath tickled his skin and her face settled flush against his neck. Cotton met his hand as it settled on her hip. Yawning again, her breath now minty fresh, she murmured, “How long have you been up?��

“Not long,” he said. Fingers traced up and down her back, making slow, steady progress.

She hummed. The midday deadline for his departure loomed in front of them and manifested in the ceaseless motion of her hands against the contours of his skin. Will they ever be free of the System and its demands on their attention, on their hard work, and on their sacrifices? Her fingers settled into a circle on his side, tracing from his hip to his ribcage and back again. Both of them handing in their resignations and retiring to a house in the countryside, like Saiga, almost made him mention it to her. But that hadn't ended so well for him, had it?

Absently, she kissed his chest.

Understanding their jobs and saying goodbye were two different things.

“When did you get this?” His hand skimmed across the puckered skin on her side, just beneath her ribcage. Dominators were her judge and occasional jury, but this looked like—

“I got shot while we were making an arrest.” Her hand curled in the center of his chest. “I was glad that Gino was there to pursue while Hinakawa radioed for help.”

Of course it was Gino. Gino and his steady presence, manifesting his own guardian enforcer version of Dime. For whatever else was going on, for whatever bullshit Gino was going through, Shinya knew that Gino would have been tempted to end those assholes for hurting Akane.

Gino’s one problem was that he fell into the trap of being Iago’s green-eyed monster. But Gino’s feelings towards Akane were that of an older brother looking out for little sis, and that hadn’t changed. Masaoka’s own role suited him, though Shinya was leery of saying that. Their healing relationship was still sometimes contentious.

“He’s a good friend,” she carried on, “though he’s always trying to be a warrior.” The motion of her hands on his skin made him shiver; she traced one of his scars with gentle fingers.

“You seem to attract them.” The conversation he’d had with Hanashiro many months ago resounded in his head.

Eyes bright with knowing insight sparkled in her otherwise obviously controlled and clearly quite serious face which was in absolutely no way fighting a smile. “Detective instincts.”

A more secure him would not draw her close and kiss her. A more secure him would not fight a battle with himself about any of this, hue be damned. A more secure him would say the hell with it and ask her to--

(Still.)

One of her legs came high, her warm knee brushing the hair on his thigh as they lost themselves in a long, slow kiss. When it ended, her hands fell into her habit of retracing his scars. The bullet slash on his neck, the deep cut on his chest, the mottled skin of a one on his side that had healed slowly and needed better medicine than they had available.

“I can feel that,” he said to break the silence, “but at a remove.” Her waiting eyes watched him, so many questions looming unanswered between them.

“I know.” Fingers splayed over the wound, briefly erasing the mark from their sight. Beneath the warmth of her hand, though, he felt that dead zone, that place holding his marked history. Only parts of that story had come out since he’d been back, something he felt almost a pull to tell her and bring reality back to their plastic and Hue-cleared world. Someday he’d tell her more. But not now.

He threaded his fingers through hers. Kissed them. The sorrow in her smile held grace as she laid her head on his shoulder.

Could he turn time back to that first click of the loaded gun? Does the passage of time only heal wounds, or set them in deeper? And how can you find absolution when each morning dawned on a fresh battle with your own demons?

He’d met people like that. He fought back against it every day.

Shinya buried his nose in her hair, inhaling lab-created apples once more. Fingers ran over her back as he set those thoughts aside as he murmured, “I’m not dead yet, you know.”

Contrite, she hummed. “Are my thoughts that clear?”

“I know you.”

“You do,” she sighed. “Then I’ll see you when you return.”

“Only if you make the same promise.”

Her nose pressed into his neck, her mouth gave him a light kiss beneath his jugular. One hand slid down to her hips while the other traced her back, his own body responding to having her so close. The curve of Akane’s hip sloped down beneath his hand, and on his way back up he brushed his fingers over her stomach and abdomen and between her breasts before he brought them to her jaw. Ran his knuckles along her cheek, kissed her nose.

Trust and worry warred there and something deeper. Darker. But there was nothing they could say unless they opened her own tightly closed doors.

And how could he push through them, when his own had opened barely a crack?

Her face was only inches from his own when he caught her lips in a kiss.

Notes:

#psycho pass #shinkane #my fic

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snapefiction · 3 years

Note

Could I request a Snape x Reader where they are married but she works at a Herbology Shop/Florist and Severus visits (to primarily pick up an order of ingredients for his potions class) and gets a chance to flirt with her? Something super fluffy please ~ love your work!!

A/N: Thank you so much and sure!! Let me know what you think! :)

❤️ Please remember that English isn’t my native language and that my Writings will include Mistakes and maybe weird formed sentences. ❤️

Pairing: Severus Snape x Wife!Reader

Warnings: Kissing, Flirting

Word Count: 1163

Working at the little Florist Shop down the road close to the Leaky Cauldron was always your dream. It was so beautiful on every aspect. You were still so close to the wizarding world, could make your hobby your job and still got known to a lot of new People on a daily Basis. Could anything make it even better?

Putting on your apron you quickly slid out your wand to unlock the front door of the shop only to wait for your Co- Worker Josie and your Boss Henry to arrive just five Minutes later. Josie was a young Girl, she freshly graduated at Hogwarts and Henry was an old friendly Man who owned the Shop which he simply named after himself. Henry´s Flowers and Supplies- he got it straight on the point.

Walking behind the Checkout you went straight to the Herbology Section. This was only available for Wizards and Witches as Muggles wouldn’t want to buy dried Frog Legs anyways. Sorting all the new Ingredients you just got delivered you almost got lost of the Track of Time. Throwing away old Cardboxes, advise some Customers, taking care of the flowers growing in your small Greenhouse you could hear Henry talk to the Customers and how the Cashbox rang whenever it got opened and how Josie talked to him about the newest Gossip from her Clique.

Past Lunch as it was almost Time to restock the Flowers at the front of the Shop you still refilled the small Jars in the Herbology Section as you heard your new Co- Worker Josie run towards you.

,,Y/N, He's here. Oh, Merlin. He's here!!" Knowing exactly who she meant you instantly put the Jars down you just held.

,,No way? Which one is it?" You bowed up again and tried to spot the mysterious Quidditch Player she talked about since Months. She pointed to the Boy standing next to the Lilies. He wasn’t looking too bad, he matched her quite well.

,,Do I look okay?" She quickly asked and you couldn't help it but smile widely as you admired her beauty.

,,You look beautiful. Now go talk to him before he changes his mind!" Nodding she quickly took off her Glasses, slid them into her side pocket of her Apron and went up to the front. The brown haired Boy quickly took notice of her as he got suspiciously shy. She talked to him, showing him around the store. He asked her some Questions and they eventually got lost in Smalltalk.

,,She’s so in love with him.“ Henry sighed. ,,Oh, what I’d give to be young again and fall in love with a Quidditch Player.“ He joked as he winked and laughed only to sign me that he’d head home now. Taking over his Place at the Cashier you began to read in the book you borrowed Josie which she left here.

As another Customer came in you read the last sentence of the page only to wipe away some dirt of your cheek and welcome the new Customer with your usual Catchphrase.

,,Hey, welcome at Henry´s Flowers and Supplies. How can I-“ Looking up from the Counter where you quickly laid the Novel aside you spotted your Husband of five years standing in front of you. His black Hair was slightly wet from the rain outside and his Lips presented you a big smile. He still managed to take your Breath away.

,,Actually I just wanted to pick up an Order. But may I tell you that you look beautiful today, dear?“ Smirking he leaned against the Counter. Jokingly he decided to play games with you.

,,Well Thank you, Mr.- ? But I must warn you, don’t attempt to flirt with me.I am a married woman.“ He chuckled. ,,Plus my Husband can become very jealous.“

,,Snape, Severus Snape.“ Blushing you played along with it as he held out his hand to shake yours. ,,Your Husband must be very happy then?“

Shrugging your shoulders you pouted slightly. ,,I hope so. But whenever he’s at work I’m so lonely- I dearly miss him.“ He reached over the Table to lay his hand on your Cheek only to brush his thumb over it.

,,Hmm. I hope he buy you Flowers and treats you right?“ Chuckling you took the Novel you borrowed Josie from aside the Counter and placed it on top to show him the Title: ,All the Flowers in Paris.´

,,And every now and then he buys me my favourite Flowers: Peony´s. I´m Sorry Mr. Snape, but I’m already taken to the best Husband I could ask for.“ He removed his Hand from your face and nodded.

,,Again, what a Pity. But could you at least help me get this Order wrapped up?“ Nodding yourself now you waved him over to lead him to the Herbology Section. Grabbing everything he asked for you tried to play your role but as he finally grabbed your shoulders to turn you around your Lips finally collapsed against each other. Sighing on his Lips you laid your Arms around his neck and he held you close. How you missed him! You saw him every Weekend and could stop by at Hogwarts whenever you felt like it but it still wasn’t enough for you. Thats why the both of you leaned against one of the greenhouses walls and kissed for ages.

,,I missed you, Angel.“ He whispered. ,,Had to see you.“ Chuckling you looked him in the eyes.

,,I love you and I missed you too. You really caught me off guard.“ His Fingers brushed through your hair.

,,After I received your Owl this Morning I knew I had to see you.“ You kissed him again. ,,Also I really needed some Ingredients so it’s a Win-Win.“

He kissed your lips again. He was just like you touch starved. You felt like a Teenager again. Hiding between the Shelves, making out. You truly were a lucky Wife.

,,Y/N! Who was that Man flirting with- Oh my God!“ Josie walking right at you. You let go of Severus. ,,Oh- shit- I´m sorry.“ She swallowed a lump in her Throat and just looked at you with big eyes. Smiling you tried to hide your Blush.

,,Well, uhh- that’s Severus. My Husband.“ You introduced, trying to hold back your laughter as her eyes almost seem to leave her head out of Shock.

,,Professor Snape- Of course- um- hi?“ He just waved and you both watched her hurry away as she was excusing herself with left over work.

,,I bet she wasn’t expecting that.“ He joked and pulled you back closer to him.

,,Of course not. Who’d expect their former Potions Master to kiss their Co-Worker between the Shelves? Especially when she didn’t knew that we are married.“

,,I once spotted Hagrid and Madame Maxime kissing after the Yule Ball, that wasn’t fun either. She will surely survive it.“

,,It simply shocks your Students every time. Now shut up and kiss me.“ You demanded laughing.

Taglist: @deepperplexity , @monstreviolet , @wow-life-love4 , @lizlil

Let me know if you want to be added in my Taglist. :)

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theleftovertaco · 3 years

Text

Dragons Over Gender Roles

Here we have a Charlie x Nonbinary!reader

Quick note: I have done my research, I am LGBTQ+ myself, obviously I don’t give a shit about gender roles but I am also NOT nonbinary. I do not have these experience associated with being nonbinary or gender nonconforming or trans. If I mess something up let me know so I can fix my mistake!

You pulled on your heavy duty boots and gloves, ready for your first day in the Romania sect of the International Dragon Protection Agency. They had told you that you were going to meet your partner today. Told you he was a real buff dude, and immediately you panicked. You of course, were not one to deal in stereotypes but buff guys often had a problem with you gender identity and expression.

You heard a knock at the door and timidly went to check on it. Mrs. Nguyen, the sanctuary owner was on the other side, and she gave you a warm smile.

Nguyen was a short, kind woman who had transferred from a sanctuary in rural Texas a few years prior, so she had a strong southern accent. Before she left, you met her when you were still in training as an intern, and when there was a spot open in Romania, she contacted you.

“Come this way dear, Weasley is waiting for you on the other side of the sanctuary.” You remembered then. People used last names here, for some reason.

You followed her for a few minutes until the two of you hit the other side and you met with your partner.

He was gorgeous. Stocky, strong, with tons of freckles on tanned skin and a full head of shaggy red hair that looked like a dragon had lit his head on fire. It was fitting.

“Y/Ln, this is Weasley, Weasley, Y/Ln. Get to know each other, you’re partners for the next six months at least.” He shot you a smile and with that short greeting, Nguyen walked off.

“I’m Charlie.”

“Y/N.” there was a short pause and you exhaled before deciding you would just spit it out. Better to get it over with just in case. It didn’t matter how many times you came out. There was always a new person you had to tell when you first met them and it always gave you a slight bit of anxiety before you did.

“I should go ahead and tell you this now. I use they/them pronouns, not she/her or he/him.”

“Pronouns?” He looked at you a little confused.

“Uh, yes. I’m nonbinary. My gender identity doesn’t fall in line with being a man or a woman, and I don’t use pronouns associated with either gender.”

“Isn’t they/them plural.”

“Not always. We use it all the time: I found their jacket at the library, they must have lost it.” Charlie shrugged and nodded.

“Yeah, ok, makes sense. He/him for me, then. So, you transferred from the Texas branch? Does everyone there speak with a Texas accent like Nguyen?” He put on a terrible accent at the end of the sentence and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Not all of them. It’s the main one in the South so there's people from the Midwest as well as the southern and some from the western states. So there’s a bunch of accents all around.” You picked up a large bag of dragon feed for the younger dragons and headed with Weasley towards a pen to feed one.

“So, I heard there’s a lot of American dragons at that sanctuary?” You nodded and ripped open the bag of feed.

“We get a few Peruvian Vipertooths and other central American breeds. There was a breeder they busted up in Canada a couple months ago that ended up illegally creating a new breed that could exhale ice. Backfired pretty bad. We had to reverse it before it froze their lungs.”

“That’s awful! Are they ok?”

“Oh they’re fine now, I worked with a friend of mine on countercurses so it was over in about a month.”

Charlie quickly realized the extent of you knowledge and passion for dragons and the two of you quickly bonded.

The next few weeks went by in a blur as you connected with your teammates, especially Charlie.

There was just something extremely caring about him. He was really just a buff softie who cared about animals.

——————————

You were refilling the feed station for the ridgeback pen when Charlie approached you with his hands tightly pressed to his sides, looking nervous.

“Hey.”

“Sup?”

“I, er, I had a question.”

“Why, did something happen? Did Montague forget to change the fucking water filter again?”

“No, no, it’s not that.”

“Well, then what?”

“I like you. A lot.”

“Oh.”

“That’s it? Oh?” He crossed his arms and looked down at the floor. You dropped a bale of hay.

“To be honest I thought you were straighter than a flagpole.”

He chuckled and scratched the back of his head.

“Yeah, I’ve been researching some cause I was confused. Had to wrestle with a computer for a bit. I think the word is pansexual or something? When it doesn’t matter your pronouns or identity or anything?”

“Sounds correct... and you like me?”

“Yes... I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable and I get it if you don’t want to be my partner anymore or talk to me or-”

“Calm down Weasley. I like you too.” He froze in place.

“What? Y-you do? Oh, ok great! Do you wanna go to dinner with me tomorrow night?” He stuttered a lot when caught off guard.

You kissed his cheek and walked off.

“7:30 Weasley. Don’t be late.”

————————

Ok I’m lowkey proud of this one

#charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley #nonbinary #nonbinary!reader

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tloujm · 3 years

Text

Part XX: Champ de Pâquerette

Author’s Notes: This takes place a day after the previous chapter. This part is dialogue heavy and at 3,365 words. Because there is discussion on Joel’s background, it strays from canon. Is it considered “straying from canon” when certain details were never presented officially in the first place?

Genre: Can I get a McFluffy?

Summary: Just another day during the honeymoon. The two of you flirt and talk more about each other’s background.

Ship: Joel x Fem!Reader

You woke up the next morning to the sound of hammering. You tossed sluggishly around the bed with the expectation of bumping into Joel. Instead, you’re met with an empty bed. As you pushed away the last bits of sleep, it made sense that he was responsible for the sound that woke you up. You walked up to the window with no more than your hair to cover your breasts. You opened it to let in the fresh morning air. You looked out into the backyard and found your husband off to the right fixing the fence blown down by the storm. It was a beautiful view. The backyard was basically a meadow full of wild flowers, mostly daisies. There were less trees in the back than in the front, however, so it was blanketed by rays of sunlight. You smiled as you watched on and you contemplated greeting him. You imagined his reaction; him turning around at the sound of your voice, a smile breaking across that hard exterior at the sight of your disheveled nudity.

You decided against it in favor of surprising him. He’s surprised you enough these past couple of days; you figured he deserved a little something. You took a quick bath and went down to the kitchen. The refrigerator was one of the things he stocked before he brought you to the place. It wasn’t running, as the cottage did not have electricity, so half of the space inside was full of ice. Just that detail alone, Joel lugging ice from Jackson to this little house so the two of you could eat something other than canned food on your honeymoon warmed your heart. You didn’t know if he had eaten breakfast yet, but knowing him he probably didn’t, so you decided to make some food and bring it to him. Wanting to enjoy the day and eat outside as well, you put together a little picnic. You packed up one of the empty suitcases that he used to bring things over with plates, cups, cutlery and the food that you packaged up so neatly.

Joel grunted in frustration after the nail he hammered split a piece of wood. He used the back hook of the hammer to take it out and he placed it between his lips. With the hammer still in his hand, he flipped the wood over and positioned it against the other part of the fence. A drop of sweat fell down the side of his face. He only wiped it off with the collar of his shirt after he successfully got the nail through. He took the baseball cap off that he was wearing to fan himself.

“Working hard, cowboy?” You asked as you walked through the back door.

He squinted his eyes to block the light. “Just fixin’ your fence ma’am. Your husband insisted I get’er done ASAP so the place could look nice when you got up.” He raked his fingers through his short hair and placed the cap back on.

“Oh did he? Well why don’t you take a break from all this hard work and have brunch with me while my husband is gone. I made enough food for two and I hate eating by myself.” You stopped in front of him and the fence; He was still on his knees. You handed him a glass of iced tea that you brewed.

Joel stood up and took a sip. “You sure your husband wouldn’t mind, ma’am?”

“Let me ask him.” You replied coyly. He let out a breathy chuckle as he watched you turn away from him then turn back around. “Joel, I’m sorry it’s come to this but I’m leaving you and running away with the handyman, but first I’m having brunch with him and there’s nothing you can say or do to change my mind.”

“Ouch.” Joel playfully grabbed at his chest. “You’re a natural heartbreaker ain’t ya?”

You shrugged playfully. “You started it. I just went with it.”

“Well that’s not where I was going.” Joel responded with a chuckle. “ ‘Sides, it’s never too early to start role playing.” He reached up and gave you a sloppy kiss.

“Meet me ‘round front. We’re having a picnic.” You said with a smile.

“A picnic?” He repeated.

“Yeah! Just wait. I’ll bring everything out.” You ran back towards the door.

“You need help with anything, (Y/N)?” Joel shouted.

“Nope, just relax in the shade.”

Joel watched as you struggled to bring everything out in one trip. He got up and rushed over to you, but you insisted that he sit back down. He couldn’t just sit and do nothing, so he compromised and stayed on stand by just in case you dropped something. He watched as you laid a blanket down and opened the suitcase full of picnic things. The first thing you took out was the iced tea that you made in what used to be a bulk pickle jar. You refilled his glass before unpacking everything else.

The two of you ate in relative silence. “What are you thinking about?” You asked him.

Joel let out a satisfying sigh after another sip. “You.”

“Oh? What about me has you so enthralled.”

“Everything, but I will admit I’ve had a question on my mind since you came out with the drink in your hand.”

“And what’s that?” You asked innocently.

He sat the cup down and leaned in. “When you broke my heart back there with such ease,” He offered a half smile. “I was wondering if maybe it was because you had a little practice back in the day.”

“Is that your silly way of asking me about all the men I had before you?” You winked.

“You don’t have to share with me anything you don’t want to, but I do feel like you know more about my life than I do yours.”

“Do I? How many women have you been with between me and Sarah’s mother?”

He made a face as to say ‘touche’. “No more than I can count on my left hand.” He exhaled. “The first woman I’d been with after Sarah’s mom was a blind date. Tommy convinced me that I needed to get back out there. At this point Sarah was in kindergarten---”

“Kindergarten? How young was she when she left?” You asked.

“Her mom left us without any warning, only a note saying that she dropped her off with Tommy and my dad. She couldn’t have been any older than 2 years old.”

“So, she didn’t grow up with any memories of her mom?” You asked.

He shook his head. “No, and I was fine with that. It was just me and Tommy in her life.” He cleared his throat. “So, yeah, he called himself helping me out by setting me up on a blind date after I refused to try online dating. She was pretty, I’ll admit that, but it didn’t take long for me to realize that me and her weren’t goin’ anywhere past the first date.” He glanced up at you for a moment. He noticed how you were eating his words up before looking back down at his plate. “Despite that, we went back to her place at the end of the date and we slept together.” He sighed disappointedly at himself. “I don’t know why I agreed to go over. It’d been a while since I had any...fun I guess. Taking care of a baby by yourself is lonely.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself.” You spoke up. He shook his head.

“After her, I told my brother no more blind dates. On nights that my aunts or cousins would spend with Sarah, I would go on down to the bar. I’d usually just flirt with the women there, buy them drinks if it was going somewhere. One night though, a woman took me into the bathroom and we had sex in a stall. It wasn’t,” He shrugged. “Nothin’ special. It felt good in the moment, but as soon as it was over and we went our separate ways, there was this feeling of...I don’t know how to describe it.” He took another swig. “You know, I used to work in construction. The guys I worked with, most of ‘em weren’t fathers. The ones who were, were much other than me. I lost most of my school friends after I got married. It was hard for me to make more because all of my time was either at work or at home with the baby. The guys at the site were cool but I was never gonna meet up with them after work for a beer. I had to pick Sarah up from daycare. Imagine how hard it was to meet someone to be more than friends with. My loneliness made me crave those few minutes I had in the bathroom stall again, so the next time I had a free night, I went back to the bar. I was more confident because I knew what I wanted. I ended up having sex with another woman in her car in the bar’s parking lot. Sarah ended up catching pneumonia sometime soon after that. Scared and watching over her in the hospital caused me to realign my priorities. I felt guilty for not being there for her. I was away drinking and fucking to make myself feel better. As tough as it was raising a little kid, Sarah was the only thing that truly made me feel joy. So that was the last time until…”

“You’re telling me, no woman has come on to you? A tall, fine, good with his hands, rough-around-the-edges-but-really-a-big-softie like yourself?” You giggled, he smirked.

“Every once in a while a lady has slipped me her number, but nothing ever came of any of them?” He smirked at the confession.

“Why not?”

He shrugged. “Mostly ‘cause I convinced myself not to. I would tell myself that giving it a chance was not worth it. I’d only been with one woman after the pandemic. Her name was Tess.” With that sentence alone, you already knew that she meant the most out of all of them based off the fact that he remembered her name. “We met at a quarantine zone years after I left the fireflies. I was by myself after Tommy decided to stay with ‘em. I found myself smuggling things in and out of the zone to earn extra ration cards. That’s how our paths crossed. She was a smuggler too. She was one of my contacts. After a while of building up trust, we decided to team up and work together for bigger payoffs. I suppose it was only a matter of time that we’d get together. We had this silent pact that she wouldn’t ask about my past and I wouldn’t ask about hers. It wasn’t a relationship though, I don’t think, not in the traditional sense. We never talked about what it was before she died.”

“How did---” You began to ask.

“She got bit. She didn’t tell me until we were surrounded by some really bad people. She convinced me to leave her behind when she showed me the bite on her ankle. She said that I still had a chance to get away, that she was gonna hold the other guys off while I ran. I almost died that day, but I kept getting back up because I didn’t want her death to be in vain. After a while of hiding, I snuck into another quarantine zone and began smuggling there. I’d only done one job before my contact told me that my next job was to smuggle a person. I immediately rejected the offer until I heard it was for the Fireflies. I wanted nothing more to do with them after I left their settlement in Texas, but I couldn't help but think about my brother. That combined with the payoff is why I decided to escort you across the whole damn country to their base in Utah.”

It was silent for a moment before you began to share yourself. “My first time was when I spent a few weeks in Britain. It was my high school graduation gift to myself. I wanted to do something fun and adventurous over the summer before starting college. I had never been anywhere before so I saved up for the plane tickets, booked the accommodations; I did everything myself and I was so excited. I stayed at this hostel in Brighton, a seaside city south of London. A Spanish man named David was staying there as well. We’d become friends off the bat and everyday we’d flirt and spend time together.”

“What did he look like?”

“Why? You jealous?” You teased. “He was a little older than me. I was 18, I think he said he was 25. So I guess I got a type.” You playfully wiggled your eyebrows at Joel. “He was tall and very slender and had long, dark, curly hair. So the night before I checked out, I told him I was leaving. He kissed me for the first time and you know what my response was? I asked him if he wanted to fuck! I wanted to be bold and I did have a crush on him. That’s not how I imagined my first time being. I’d only known him for a week. I mean we got along very well, but I always imagined it being with someone I was in a relationship with first.”

“You’d never dated in high school?” He asked.

“No, I had dates to school dances, but never dated. So I went back up to his hostel room. He rented a private room while the room I stayed in had bunk beds, so I was sharing it with others. I told him I was a virgin before anything happened and he was ok with that. He was gentle and kind and everything I needed that night to trust him. I didn’t expect much for my first time, like I didn’t think there were going to be fireworks. I didn’t ask how experienced he was, but I assumed he wasn’t a virgin. The experience as a whole was good. The guy that I was crushing on my whole stay in Brighton respected my mind and my body. That was more than enough to make me swoon. Still I had to leave in the morning. He invited me to stay the night with him and so I did. I had to leave early, just before dawn, so I planned on slipping out and leaving a note, but he caught me before I left and we hugged and said goodbye and he whispered something in my ear in his native tongue. I didn’t know what he said and to this day, I can’t remember the words, so I guess I never will. I’m glad he woke up though. I’m glad he did that.” Joel didn’t know if you had more stories, but he could tell already that this was the one that stuck with you the most. You took in a deep breath before continuing. “So, spring semester of my freshman year I got into my first relationship. He came up to me in the library. I was just watching videos on my laptop, killing time between classes. What’s funny was that I didn’t want to be bothered that day, and there this man was coming up to me saying that he saw me as I walked into the study quad and thought I was pretty. So I close my laptop and sit with him at his table. We ended up talking until I had to leave for class. He asked for my number before I left and the rest was history with that one.” You shrugged.

“That’s it? What happened there?” Joel asked curiously.

“We grew apart.” You shrugged again, thinking back on it. “He was more into me than I was him and after a while, I didn’t see myself getting serious like I knew he wanted and don’t you dare call me a heartbreaker for that.” A tight lined grin broke onto your face. “I didn’t want to dump him, but stringing him along would have been worse. I know what it’s like to be convinced someone’s into you when they’re really not. He was sad, but I’m sure he got over it. I told him we could be friends, but that never happened. I got into another relationship my junior year of college with a classmate from my photography class. I’d known him since my very first semester. We were in the same financial aid program, which meant we had to take a lot of the same gen ed classes. We were always just acquaintances until he asked me out before class one day. I’m not gonna lie, I didn’t find him physically attractive at first, but after we went on several dates and I got to know him, he was all I could think about. I was infatuated and we fucked everywhere.” You blushed. “We fucked in the dark room more than once, in my car, his car. We got caught by the campus police when it was in his car. We did it in the library stairwell, under a small bridge at a park across the street from campus. Things ended when we graduated. He was from out of state, so he was gonna move back home and look for jobs there. I wanted to travel more before committing to a job. I really tried to convince him to travel with me, at least for the summer, and he really tried to convince me to go move with him to his hometown. Neither one of us compromised so that was that.”

“Did you love him?” He inquired.

“I don’t think so. If we loved each other, I feel like we would have tried harder to find a solution. In the very least try a long distance relationship. We were infatuated, horny young adults. I loved my time with him and I definitely cared for him, like I did for my first boyfriend, but I don’t think I ever loved them. Did you love Sarah’s mom?”

“Tyra?” There it was. Now you knew her name. He looked down as he wrung his hands. “I thought I could, but she never gave me a chance to. We liked each other and I grew to care for her and I think she cared for me back. I grew to respect her a hell of a lot more after I watched her give birth, but she didn’t make the idea of loving her easy. Towards the end, we argued a lot and then not at all. There was just nothing until she left.” You took his hands in yours. He accepted your comfort, but did not want to dwell on it. “So where did you end up going?”

“Hmm?” You hummed in question.

“After you broke up with the second guy because you wanted to travel.”

“I had brought a plane ticket to Italy. Trieste, Italy. That country is like an art student’s mecca so I had to go sooner or later. But it never happened. About a week before I was scheduled to go, the pandemic hit and the borders closed. I only chose that date because the layover time was shorter. It cost me though. Just think If I had purchased an earlier plane ticket, because I almost did since it was cheaper. What if I would have gotten stuck in a foreign country when all this went down. Wouldn’t know anybody, wouldn’t know if my family was ok, wouldn’t know how to get back home.”

“We wouldn’t have met.” Joel commented.

“No, I don’t think we would have.”

“Well, I’m glad you bought the more expensive ticket. I’m sorry you didn’t get to see Italy though.”

“I’m sorry too!” You laughed. “I can’t imagine that being the worst country to be stuck in. But I would trade Italy for you any day.”

The two of you laid on the blanket and enjoyed each other’s company until Joel decided it was time to get back to the fence. You asked him if he needed help, but he declined. You settled for sunbathing while you watched him work. After a while, he called it quits for the day and he got cleaned up while you made dinner.

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aelin-queen-of-terrasen · 4 years

Text

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤

Rowaelin modern AU ▶ Masterlist

note: before you start, my sincerest apologies to your heart. i tried to postpone the real angst for as long as I could; this made my heart hurt.

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Aelin Galathynius didn't know what possessed her when she let Lysandra drag her to a party on school night. She didn't know how her best friend had managed to convince Aedion to throw a god damned party in his house. She didn't know why she called up Rowan to extend the invitation, and she certainly didn't understand why she was still disappointed he couldn't make it.

She'd managed to hide her marks from Arobynn and he'd been too drunk to remember anything of use himself. She'd be surprised if he knew his own name with the condition he was in.

That was one of the reasons she was out tonight: it was rare that Arobynn wasn't home and rarer that he was home and too gone inside his head to give two fucks about where Aelin went. She planned to make the most of it.

"What are you thinking about so hard?" Dorian asked, drinks in both hands. He offered her one.

Aelin accepted it, already having lost count of the amount of alcohol she'd consumed. "Mm, can't wait to turn eighteen and move out of the damn house." She didn't like the way Dorian looked back at her, with pitiful eyes. But it was soon replaced with his usual dazzling smile.

"Where is Sam?" he asked.

Aelin furrowed her eyebrows. "He's here?" She'd been hanging around the diner a lot since he asked her out. He was going to ask her to be his girlfriend soon, she could tell.

It was a strange realisation. His advances were far from unwanted, she liked it. She liked him. But there was no excitement, no ecstacy. Her face didn't light up with a smile every time she saw him. That was just all of Lysandra's romance talk getting to her.

She tried not to be envious of her cousin and her best friend. It was hard when they looked at each other like no one else existed. She thought dating Sam would quell that discontentment but it only worsened when she realised that even though she was in a relationship, she didn't feel any of those things her friend gushed about.

Maybe Lysandra had exaggerated.

Or maybe she was broken?

Aelin wasn't an idiot.

She saw how Sam looked at her, at least. It was the same lovesick look on Aedion's face. It just didn't make her stomach flip in excitement.

God, she was too sober for this.

Aelin refilled her cup, then went to find her soon to be boyfriend. He grinned when his eyes fell on her. "I've been searching for you. You should've told me you were coming here tonight." The words were delivered in a joking manner, though she could detect a hint of hurt beneath them.

She smiled apologetically. "It was a last minute plan. Plus, I didn't think this was your scene."

Before their conversation could turn even more awkward, she was interrupted by a familar voice. "Oh. Hi, Sam. Aelin." She turned towards Rowan, grinning like a fiend.

"I thought you weren't coming."

Rowan said, "I wouldn't have."

"Then why did you?" she quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Fenrys dragged me out here." Her smile dimmed a little at his words. What else did she want to hear? He added: "I figured if you started throwing vases at people again, I'd better be there to capture it in a video."

Aelin gasped. "Did Rowan Whitethorn just make a joke? A historical moment."

Rowan rolled his eyes. Sam was engaged in a conversation with someone from his school when she turned around. So Aelin accompanied her friend to get more drinks with every intention to return to her unofficial boyfriend. But one drink turned into more until she was hammered.

Rowan remained a dedicated babysitter by her side all through the night.

Aelin laughed and danced and sang and drank and danced some more. When it was time for everyone to leave, most of her group decided to crash on the couches in Aedion's living room, none of them wanting to go back home, exhausted as they were.

She convinced Rowan to stay with them, even though he was sober and fell asleep snuggled next to him on the couch. Sam Cortland didn't cross her mind even once until she woke up to a text from him: You disappeared through the party and won't pick up your phone so I returned home. Sorry. Hope you had fun. She told herself it was all the alcohol. She would have remembered him otherwise, and that he must not have tried to search for her hard enough. But then why did she feel so guilty?

Aelin Galathynius didn't know how a day could possibly worsen more.

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She woke up on Aedion's couch, her head throbbing and her limbs groaning in pain. Her neck and back muscles hurt everytime she moved. Adding to her agony, she had cheerleading practice in her third period. That meant more muscle exertion. By the time recess came, she was ready to burst into tears.

Except it was about to be worse.

After lunch, she and Rowan made their way to class only to discover they would be working in groups of four. Since they were the last ones to enter, the two of them were grouped together with the only two students left: Chaol Westfall and an exchange student, Elide Lochan.

Rowan gave her a sympathetic look as they drew their chairs together.

The four of them stared at each other uncomfortably. Elide broke the silence. "Sooo what topic are we doing?"

Even Aelin, right in her element, couldn't think of something. She suggested topics off the top of her head but they were all overused. Everytime she tried to focus, she felt her ex boyfriend's eyes on her and her mind turned blank. Should she talk to him like they were friends or pretend they were strangers?

She opted for the latter.

After some discussion, they decided on a topic and their roles. Aelin walked up to the teacher's desk to claim their topic when her ex boyfriend followed. She wanted to shout at him. He hadn't once tried to talk to her in the two months after their breakup and now that she was moving on, he wanted in. She didn't want to hear what he had to say. Not now, not yet.

He shook his head. "If you'd just listen to me once, Ace—" Rowan interrupted them, calling her name.

Aelin shot him a grateful smile as she returned to their seats, directing her attention towards the dark-haired girl with them. Aelin liked Elide Lochan. She was smart, funny and kind as far as she could tell. She listened without judgement, and had a lot of interesting things to add herself.

──────✧❅✦❅✧──────

Aelin had been right in introducing her friends to Elide. She was shy at first, but all of them were accommodating enough that she got comfortable, sitting between Lysandra and her.

Aelin reserved a seat beside her, she didn't know why. It was a pleasant surprise when Rowan ditched his usual corner seat and asked, "Is this seat taken?" Heat rushed to her cheeks and it was all she could do to nod.

She liked having Rowan close. His presence calmed her nerves. Only last period, thrice Chaol tried to start a conversation with her, and thrice Rowan quieted him down.

After calming her heart, Aelin asked, "Where's Lorcan?"

A deep voice said from behind her, "Here, of course," and there he stood, lunch tray in hand and dark eyes fixed on the girl sitting in his chair.

Elide noted with surprise all the chairs on their table were occupied. "Oh—uh, you can sit here, I'll bring, uh, another."

Lorcan smiled.

Either Aelin was having a ridiculous, strangely vivid dream or the sun had risen from the west because Lorcan smiled at a stranger. And gods, that was a faint blush on his cheeks.

She grinned. "Fuck, no! Wait. I'll move; Lor, you sit here." There he sat.

Aelin pushed Rowan's lunch tray into his lap, climbing on the table in front of him. She kicked off her heels, then crossed her legs and placed her own lunch tray in front of her. Elide fit right in with the rest of them, listening with a small smile and adding her own accounts of things occassionally. If the rest of her friends noticed Lorcan paying extra attention to the lunch conversation, no one mentioned it.

"Didn't know you play matchmaker too," Rowan told her.

Her lips twitched upwards. Aelin Galathynius looked down at him from her position with an expression that was borderline inappropriate, she said, "I'm a woman of many talents, Mr. Whitethorn. Many talents."

Rowan's answering blush was everything she'd hoped for.

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Aelin Galathynius entered her house, the quiet making her heart ache.

She expected Arobynn to be passed out on the couch where he ended up every morning after a night of spending her inheritance away on drinks and gambling. But Arobynn wasn't there.

He's not home, she told herself. He probably passed out somewhere.

And then there were footsteps. A red-haired man stepped into the living room, sidestepping all the empty bottles on the floor. He wasn't drunk, he looked very much sane. She didn't like that. When he was drunk, it was easier to slip past him. He didn't care about her existence and that was the best she could hope for.

But he wasn't drunk and she didn't know what he planned to do.

Heart racing fast, Aelin spared a look towards the stairs. If she could run fast enough and make it to her room, she'd lock herself inside. But what was to stop him from coming inside after her? The locks weren't strong enough to keep him out for more than a few minutes—

"Don't think about running, Aelin. I want to talk, nothing more," Arobynn warned.

Talk. She didn't believe that for a second. Aelin looked at him, then at the stairs and then at the phone in her hand. She could lock herself inside, then call Aedion or Lorcan or someone. She needed to buy herself time.

"Aelin, stop!"

Aelin made a run for it, tripping on the red carpet that stank of alcohol. It had been her mom's favourite once. She fell face first on the table, the sharpened corner making a cut across her cheek. She swore out loud, her phone fell away from her. She ran towards the closest door from her position, struggling with the lock in her panic.

Arobynn stuck his foot between the door, trying to open it again. She'd once known him to be a kind, caring man. In a different world, where she didn't have to hide inside her house and her biggest problem had been the homework she needed to submit the next day, where her parents still lived and this house wasn't a reminder of everything she'd lost. Sweat beads formed on her forehead and the back of her neck; Aelin pulled the door close with all the strength she had. She locked the door, pushed the drawer with toiletries in front of it and slumped against the wall.

The adrenaline faded, tears rolling down her cheeks and the fear set in.

"Open the door, Aelin," Arobynn said. She hated his voice. "Open the fucking door if you know what's good for you."

She realised with a jolt her phone was still outside, then slowed her breathing down, arms wrapped around her knees.

Eventually, his shouts quieted down. Aelin couldn't tell if he was still there or not but she didn't dare check. She washed the blood away from her face. The sobs subsided but the tears didn't leave the whole night. Sleep didn't come to her at all. It was in the morning, when there was still no sign of Arobynn being home that she sneaked out of the bathroom, heart thumping inside her chest that she left the room.

She grabbed her phone, then ran towards her room. Once she made sure it was locked, she turned her phone on. Ignoring all the missed calls from her friends, she dialled the first number she could. "Aelin, you know how I feel about you not picking your phone. I thought the worst, god—"

"Aedion?" a sob escaped her mouth.

"Yes? Are you okay?"

"Aedion," her voice came out coarse and much softer than she intended, "Please—I can't—Can you pick me up?"

Aedion barked a curse in the background. "Of course, I'm coming. I'll be there in a few minutes, ok? Don't end the call—" his words were drowned out when someone knocked on her door.

"You can't dodge me forever, Aelin."

Aelin sank to her knees, vision growing unfocused as more tears escaped. Before her cousin could arrive, her world went black.

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I'm trying real hard to resist my inner wattpader and not make this a cliche so y'all better appreciate my efforts.

tags:

@thesirenwashere // @courtofjurdan //@fangirltrash74 // @the-dark-swan // @queenofgreenbriar // @clockworkgraystairs // @julemmaes // @rowaelinforeverworld // @mymultiversee // @queen-of-glass // @strangely-constructed-soul // @mijaldraws // @http-itsrebecca // @aesthetics-11 // @lord-douglas-the-third // @flowersinvegas // @towhateverend17 // @aelinchocolatelover // @justabunchoffandoms // @cool-ish-nerd // @faerie-queen-fireheart // @sad-book-whore // @didsomeonesayviolin // @atozfantazyxx // @hizqueen4life // @the-gods-killer // @booknerdproblems // @annejulianneh111 // @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln // @b00kworm // @mysweetvillain // @curlyredqueen06 // @moondancer-204 // @thesurielships // @witchling-leonor // @ladywitchling // @amren-courtofdreams // @ifinallygavein // @jlinez // @faequeenaelin // @df3ndyr // @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato // @bitchy-knees // @superspiritfestival // @xx-fiona-xx // @stardelia // @maastrash // @miihlovesnoone // @totenhamboys20

there's so many people whose tags won't work, I feel bad, I'm sorry.

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cuddlepilefics · 3 years

Text

Lullaby and good night

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie/Little: Minho

Caregiver: Jisung

Minho’s POV.:

Our next comeback was approaching and 3racha had only finished up in the studio very recently. Now that all their tracks had been finished, it was the dance-line’s task to come up with choreographies. Being the oldest member of the dance-line, I felt a sense of responsibility, so I pretty much took the lead and spent most of my time in the practice room. In my free time, which was mostly at night, I went to the studio to practice my vocals. I knew I had to improve my singing, I read all the comments online, saying the only reason I was in the group was for my visuals. As much as it honored me that Stay found me handsome, as much did it hurt to hear I was good for nothing. Some nights I skipped entirely, not going back to the dorm at all and meeting up with my members for practice the next morning. Often it took a stern conversation with Chan-hyung to drag me back and get some rest. Couldn’t he see that I needed more time to practice? That I needed to work more to make up for the talent I was lacking? I hadn’t gone home after practice last night, instead dancing for another three hours before dragging my sore body to the studio to go over some of the new songs. I hoped with enough practice I’d get my lines down to perfection. It weren’t many anyways.

The next morning, I met up with Hyunjin and Felix to work on our choreos. The young Aussie was having a tough time, often messing up and being on edge the entire time. I saw his hands shaking every time he lost a step and his brows were furrowed as though he had a headache. Being a little myself, it didn’t take long for me to put two and two together. The poor boy was trying so hard not to slip but the stress was slowly getting to him. He wasn’t even there for a full hour before I decided to be a good hyung and send him home. It took a while for Felix to accept my decision, he didn’t want to hold us back and be a burden and I knew exactly how he felt but after quite some pushing from Hyunjin and me and a call to Chan, the dance-line maknae let the leader collect him from the practice room. From that on, it was only Hyunjin and me. We hadn’t even danced for that long but we were both drenched in sweat. My limbs ached and my protested with every movement. I doubted my dongsaeng felt any different but he put on a battle-face and soldiered on. Hyunjin really was something, though sensitive most of the time, when it came to dancing, he was pure professionalism. Not once did he complain about me torturing both of us with endless reruns of the same sequence. It was easy to work with him and seeing him be strong and push his exhaustion and pain away, gave me the strength to do the same.

We cut our lunch break short. Hyunjin gave me a proteinbar from his bag because I had eaten my last for dinner last night. I’d have to go back to the dorm soon to refill the snack-department of my practice bag. The break was just long enough to catch our breaths and force down a proteinbar and some water. Sure, it wasn’t a full meal but if we ate too much, the sharp movements would make us queasy. My eyes were burning and my head ached but on second thought, everything ached, so all I could do was suck it up and hope we’d finish soon. I was really craving a shower and my bed at this point. We had only resumed dancing for a few minutes, when my eyes were starting to bother me, well, bother me more than before. The bright overhead lights seamed distorted, casting strange shapes. I really shouldn’t wear my contacts for days on end. Blinking rapidly, I tried to clear my vision from the shimmering distortions before looking over at Hyunjin, squinting in an attempt to see him clearly. I’ve probably been staring at him for too long because he gave me a questioning look. The room suddenly shifted sideways before everything went black.

When I came to again, the first thing I heard was a loud howling noise quickly changing in pitch. It was too loud, my head was pounding and the noise didn’t help with that at all. Why couldn’t it just be quiet? I wanted to sleep. There were broken and half-suppressed sobs somewhere close. But where? It sounded a lot like Hyunjin. Trying to open my eyes, I failed as my eyelids seemed to be glued shut. There was a pressure around my hand, which seemed to come from the same direction as the sobs. Finally managing to blink my eyes open, I quickly closed them again and groaned as I hadn’t expected it too be so bright. I felt my hand being squeezed and I gave a weak squeeze back. There was also a voice that I didn’t recognize, words blurring together incomprehensible. Just wanting to sleep, I decided to ignore the voice and kept my eyes closed. It was too bright to open them anyways. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t go back to sleep. As soon as I became aware of the moist stickiness, with which my pants clung to me, it was too uncomfortable to get another minute of rest.

Through all the commotion, I kept my eyes closed. Why wouldn’t they stop bothering me? Is it too much to ask to just be allowed some rest? There were hands on me and my bed was shaking. I tried swatting the hands away but I wasn’t strong enough. My clothes were pulled on and suddenly I felt cold. Was I naked? My breathing quickened as I felt helpless and violated. All I had wanted to do was sleep off the pounding headache behind my temples. Oh thanks, someone had put a blanket on me. The commotion was slowly dying down and I dared opening my eyes again, though only a crack. The reassuring hand in mine had disappeared for a while but now I could feel it again. Looking over, I was faced with a tearstained Hyunjin. “H-Hey, you’re awake, hyung”, he smiled shakily. Trying to speak, I head to clear my throat a few times before I was able to get a sound out: “J-Jinnie? Wha’ happened? People were touching me, my head hurts.” – “It’s ok, hyung. They were only helping”, Hyunjin promised before breaking into tears again, “We were dancing together when you kept staring at me. I asked you a few times what was wrong but – but-…” – “Jinnie?”, rasped, squeezing his hand like he had done to me before. My dongsaeng just continued to choke on sobs, clearly terrified of something. But what?

I wanted to reassure him but how could I when I didn’t even know what happened? I was still so unbelievably tired but I couldn’t go to sleep, knowing my dongsaeng was crying next to me. The door opened and in piled my friends. Chan sat down on the bed next to my, taking my hand into his, while Changbin pulled Hyunjin out of the chair and into his arms. “Hyung?”, I looked at him with pleading eyes. The oldest sighed, studying my face: “You don’t remember what happened, do you Min?” I shook my head a bit, waiting for an explanation. “Hyunjin called us because you suddenly collapsed and had a seizure. He called an ambulance, which took both of you here, we followed”, the leader explained calmly but in his eyes I could see he was anything but calm. I had heard anything clearly but for some reason I couldn’t comprehend his words. They made no sense to me. Why would I have a seizure? I never had one before. My hyung must have sensed my confusion because he added: “The doctor said it might have been caused by sleep deprivation but they couldn’t confirm it yet because no one knew how much or rather little sleep you had gotten recently. To me it sounds likely because there were too many nights you didn’t come back at all.” Refusing to meet Chan’s eyes, I stared at the blanket in my lap, which seemed to confirm his suspicions. “I don’t think I have to tell you that you should have taken better care of yourself. You’re one of the oldest here and I know I haven’t been the greatest role-model but not even I have ever taken it to that extreme”, He frowned disappointed. Fighting tears back, I tried to explain myself: “It’s just, all those comments online, reminding me of my lack of talent. I just wanted to improve myself for Stay.” Great, with that confession I have earned myself another round of ‘Why we are not supposed to read comments on social media’, but I knew they meant well giving me a talk.

Another hour, many compliments for my skills and hugs from everyone later, most members went home, promising that one or two of them would come back later to bring me a bag with some clothes and my toothbrush. Much to my dismay, I learned that I’d have to stay at least one night for observation. Chan and Jisung stayed after everyone else left. I was grateful for their presence because I still needed to come to terms with what had happened. I had talked to a doctor, who had explained my situation again. It gave me hope because he said it might never happen again if I make sure to take good care of my body. His words were very inspirational to me: ‘Rest is a right, not a reward.’ I will probably make a poster of this and hang it in the 3racha studio, so others could also benefit from this man’s wise words.

No one’s POV.:

Chan and Jisung stayed to keep Minho company. The dancer kept a cool exterior to reassure his friends but the two knew he was really shaken-up inside. The trio continued talking, about everything and anything, trying to distract themselves and the mood in the room was considerably light. Until a nurse came in, that is. She wanted to give the dancer an IV, which would also be useful for administering medication for the pain. The atmosphere turned sour and Minho squirmed uncomfortably. He hated needles. Jisung quickly took his hand, trying to calm the older down. The nurse gave them a sympathetic smile as she had seen the same scene multiple times. Her promises, it would only be a tiny pinch and it would be over before Minho knew it, fell on deaf ears. When she took another step closer, needle in hand, the dancer couldn’t take it anymore. He screamed, trying to pull away from Jisung, who was holding onto his wrist. Then, as if a switch was flicked, he crawled back to the rapper, clutching his shirt. “Jiji, nuh let Min huwt!”, he sobbed, his breaths coming in short strained puffs. The nurse quickly put the needle down out of sight, taking a few steps back to give them space. Chan and Jisung had both paled immediately after noticing how Minho had slipped. They were terrified of it happening with a stranger in the room, afraid the little would be treated with disgust. Jisung was quick to sit on the edge of the bed, an arm wrapped around the dancer as he whispered soothing nothings and tried to help the other to slow his breathing down. At the same time, Chan studied the nurse, hoping for any clue on how she thought about little space.

A few minutes later, Jisung had finally managed to talk the little down and the nurse considered it safe to approach them again, without a needle this time. “Hey sweetie, can you tell me how old you feel right now?”, she cooed, crouching in front of the pair. All she got was a whimper from Minho, who pressed himself closer to Jisung, and the stunned looks of Chan and Jisung. She smiled at their confusion: “Regressing in age is a not too uncommon coping mechanism. People only thing it’s uncommon because everyone’s ashamed of talking about it. What’s bad about creating a safe space for oneself? It’s harmless, unlike taking drugs or self-harming as an outlet.” She wasn’t wrong there and her acceptance helped Minho build the courage to meet her eyes. When they were going to give the IV another try, Chan silently disappeared out of the room to call the members at the dorm, asking them to also pack Minho’s beloved cat plushie and a pacifier.

“Min, I’d need to give you some medicine but to be able to do that, I’ll have to put a small tube into the back of your hand”, she tried carefully. The little’s eyes went wide and he shook his head furiously. Jisung rubbed his back, hoping to be able to convince him: “Kitten, I know you’re scared. Hyung knows. But don’t you feel icky?” Minho sniffled and touched his head, whimpering a pitiful: “Ouchie.” – “I know, bubba. She’s going to help with that, if you let her. You trust Jiji-hyungie, right? I wouldn’t let anyone do anything that’s bad for you”, the rapper promised, “You’re my brave boy, aren’t you?” Minho whined loudly, he knew Jisung was right but he hated it. “Usually when we have to give a child an injection or IV, we let them sit on their parents lap”, the nurse mused. Jisung didn’t have to be told twice to kick of his shoes and sit down on the bed properly. He pulled the little onto his lap, who quickly buried his face against the rapper’s neck. Taking a few deep breaths and inhaling the caregiver’s soothing scent, Minho held out his right hand, stretching it far away from his body. “You’re so brave, kitten. Hyung’s really proud of you”, Jisung praised. The nurse wasted no time, afraid the little’s burst of confidence would be over before she’d have the needle in. It was really only a small prick and Minho didn’t even have the time to cry out before it was over. Quickly wrapping a few layers of bandage around the dancer’s hand to make sure he wouldn’t accidentally pull the needle out, she stepped back and smiled. She walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a small piece of paper, chuckling: “A brave boy like you totally deserves some stickers.” – “Stickers!!!”, the little squealed, accepting the sheet and studying it. Jisung grinned, glad the fuss was over, and reminded: “What do we say, Min?” – “Tank chuuu!”, the dancer giggled. With a satisfied smile, the nurse connected the bag of fluids and painkillers before leaving the room.

Chan returned and listened to Minho boast about his knew stickers, while they waited for their friends to arrive with the dancer’s necessities. “Hyung, I’m going to stay here with him tonight”, Jisung announced, still sitting on the bed with the little on his lap. The leader nodded, he had already expected this given the rapper was Minho’s main caregiver and the two were extremely close. They kept playing around for a while, the dancer giggling happily, IV already forgotten, till there was a knock on the door. In came Changbin and Seungmin their worried faces brightening at the sight of the happy little on Jisung’s lap. Their worry had doubled when Chan told them Minho had slipped but it now melted away completely. “Hey there, little one”, Seungmin laughed, walking over and ruffling the dancer’s hair, “You gave your Jinnie-hyung quite a scare”, noticing the little’s frown, he was quick to add, “Don’t worry Jinnie’s fine.” – “Look we brought Soori”, Changbin distracted, pulling the plushie from the bag and handing it over. Cuddling the stuffed cat close to his chest, Minho looked up with sparkling eyes and mumbled: “Tank chu, Binnie-hyung.”

Changbin and Seungmin took Chan back home with them after saying good bye to Minho and Jisung. The rapper gently helped the little to change out of the hospital into his own clothes, making sure to pull the bottle and tubing through the sleeve first and guiding Minho’s hand, so he wouldn’t mess with the IV. The energy and excitement, that had fueled the dancer while the other members were present, soon ebbed away and the exhaustion that had brought him into the current situation caught up to him. “Is there someone sleepy?”, Jisung cooed, running a hand through the little’s hair. Minho gave a small nod, yawning widely while he rubbed a fist against his eye: “Wan’ cuddle Jiji.” – “Okay baby, scoot over a bit”, the rapper requested, climbing under the blanket too, “Here, hold on to Soori, she wants cuddles too.” Clutching the plushie, the little snuggled up against his caregiver, who pulled a paci from the bag and slipped it between the little’s lips. “Go to sleep, kitten. Hyungie will sing for you, ok?”, Jisung hummed, he was hoping Minho would be able to catch up on the sleep he was lacking, “Good night, little one.”

#sick #sickfic #little #little space #agere #age regression #headspace #fanfic #fanfiction #skz #stray kkids #fluff #comfort #whump #lee know #lee minho #han jisung #minsung #hospital

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inkedstarlight · 4 years

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Bittersweet: Chapter One

Summary: Nesta up and moved the minute she graduated high school. Now, seven years later, her father has died. After years of separation, Nesta is now living in the same city as her sisters, with Elain as her roommate. Feyre introduces Elain and Nesta to the Inner Circle. But they're missing a certain member... Cassian returns to the Marine Corps to find two new members of the Inner Circle. He pushes Nesta's buttons more than anyone ever has. Cue heavy angst, mutual pining, and a very, very slow burn. Note: So I’m reposting this because I made a lot of changes to the fic and just wanted to start fresh. I had deleted the last things I posted for it, but now it’s officially here! I also just uploaded it on AO3 too, and you can read chapter one here! Warnings: heavy angst Bittersweet Masterlist

June

Nesta was accepted into graduate school today, and she didn’t know whether to cry or smile.

To throw a pity party or a celebration.

To be or not to be.

She was trifling through her mail this morning when she saw the large envelope with the words ‘Prythian University’ printed front and center. She wasted no time ripping it open, and a gasp left her mouth when she read the first sentence.

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into the Master’s program of English at Prythian University.

She had grabbed her phone to tell someone about the news, but her smile quickly faded when she realized she had no one to call, no one to celebrate with. No one to tell her, “I’m proud of you.”

Nesta had scrolled through her contact list, which consisted of only fourteen people. Fourteen people and not one of them close enough with her to warrant such a text. Heart sinking in her chest, Nesta slammed her phone on the coffee table and fell on the couch. A lump formed in her throat, but she refused to let a single tear shed.

But she was in no position to complain. Nesta chose to move away. She chose to be alone. She was the only person to blame for her own unhappiness.

Nesta had lived in the dreary state of Massachusetts since she graduated high school, leaving her family behind in Maine. The place that conjured nightmares, that was teeming with ghosts. Every corner she turned in her hometown, she was met face to face with her past – the one she so desperately tried to forget. Her family had lived there since Nesta was born. They didn’t have the funds to move to a better town or a bigger house. Up to this point, Nesta’s entire life happened in that horrible town.

Her younger sister, Elain, cried when Nesta announced her decision to move to Massachusetts for college. Feyre’s eyes remained dry, but she wished Nesta good luck.

Nesta and her two sisters had been close as little girls. Sure, they were wildly different from each other – Elain was intelligent and soft-spoken, Feyre creative and stubborn, Nesta hot-headed and brash. They argued. They resented each other in ways sisters did. But they looked out for each other. Since Nesta was just five years old, she did everything she could to protect her sisters, whether they knew it or not.

When Nesta was just fourteen years old, their mother left them. She walked out of the door forever, and everything changed. Elain was crushed but she continued to look out for their father, whose depression worsened when his wife left without saying goodbye. Feyre took her absence the hardest. She had the closest relationship with their mother as the baby of the family, relying on her more than her other sisters. Feyre was the last one to see her. Apparently, their mother made her promise to look out for the rest of the family. She said Feyre was the only one who could do it. And because Feyre was stubborn to a fault, she kept that promise every damned day.

And Nesta? Nesta was relieved and confused and angry and heartbroken. She still was.

So, when Nesta left for college, she promised that she would keep in touch with Elain and Feyre. They all promised. However, they inevitably got busy with their own lives and grew apart. When Elain graduated high school just two years after Nesta, she chose to remain in Maine to tend to their sick father. She attended community college, even though she’d dreamed of being a pediatrician since she was just nine years old. She sacrificed her opportunity for a higher education, and Nesta admired her for that. At the same time, however, she also wanted more for her sister. She had a habit of being too selfless. Always giving, never receiving.

Just a year later, Feyre became the last to graduate. She too flew from the nest, heading west to Colorado. Nesta wasn’t the only one who had a distaste for their hometown. Feyre was born an adventurer. She wants to explore, create, travel. More importantly, Feyre was doing something for herself. Feyre had assumed the role of provider when their mother left them in their youth. At only thirteen, she managed to find a job, and continued to do so until she was eighteen. Feyre had grand plans to visit every New England state during her high school career. She wouldn’t shut up about the places she would see, the people she would meet.

Feyre didn’t stepped foot outside of Maine until she graduated.

The only person Nesta completely cut loose was her father. Elain and Feyre had tried to rationalize with her about this many times, but Nesta put an end to every discussion.

Elain was very close with their father. Feyre was neutral. Nesta resented him. She knew they judged her for that, even if it wasn’t explicitly said. She also understood their reasoning.

They just didn’t understand hers.

Last Nesta heard, Feyre had found her niche at college. Back when they called more often, she had gushed about her new friends and latest conquest. His name was Rhysand (to which Nesta sniggered – who named their child that?), and the pair had recently begun dating after a year of pining for one another. Nesta told her that their love story sounded like the kind of fanfiction she (shamefully) loved. From what Feyre told her, it sounded like she was head over heels, despite her sarcastic deflections.

That was two years ago.

Of course, Nesta had spoken to both her sisters since then. It was rare for them to call, but they would share occasional text conversations. Just last month, Nesta texted Feyre to congratulate her on graduating Summa Cum Laude. It didn’t go much beyond that, though.

Nesta and Elain’s text message history was quite sad to look through. Once a month, Elain would send her an update on their father’s wellbeing. Nesta would not respond. The next month, she would receive another update. No response.

It never angered Nesta to see those texts; it only saddened her.

Elain wore her heart on her sleeve, ever the peacemaker in the family. Her intentions were pure, but she didn’t know the story of Nesta and their father’s relationship. She’d asked, but Nesta was always quick to shut her down.

Despite their one-sided texting, Elain called Nesta every couple of months. It was awkward, but it warmed Nesta’s heart to hear her sister’s voice. Their calls never lasted more than ten minutes, Nesta the one to end the conversation. When they hung up, however, guilt crushed her. Nesta was slowly losing everyone she loved, and it was entirely her fault.

After Nesta had gotten her undergraduate degree in Massachusetts, she worked at two minimum wage jobs for three years to save up enough money to pay for grad school (along with several loans). Her first choice, Prythian University, happened to be just outside of Boulder, the town where Feyre was living. It was also one of the best graduate schools for an English degree in the country.

Nesta considered telling Feyre her news. Obviously, she had to share it at some point. But anxiety crept into her chest whenever she picked up her phone to tell her. What if Feyre wasn’t happy about it? What if she didn’t want Nesta living near her? She had created her own life in a new state. Nesta couldn’t just interrupt after years of shutting her out.

After spending the entire day overthinking, Nesta decided to venture downtown in the evening for a small, lonesome celebration. She would treat herself to a drink (or two), go home, and read a romance novel or two while Iroh, her black, grumpy cat, snuggled in her lap.

So, there she was. Sitting at the local bar, legs crossed as she people watched. Nesta had even dressed up for the occasion. She wore a dress that fell to her ankles, the forest green color complimenting her golden-brown hair. Her arm sleeve tattoo was on full display, and her other ink that disappeared beneath her dress. Dark kohl coated her eyes with a smokey finish.

The bar itself was a welcoming environment. String lights latticed the ceiling, the bulbs providing dim lighting for those who had secrets to keep. Wooden tables faced a small stage at the opposite end of the building – presumably where they held open mic nights. Dark oak walls were plastered with photographs, license plates, and other décor.

It being a Tuesday night, there weren’t many people out. Nesta noticed a couple middle-aged men drinking beers together, an older couple sitting close in a booth, and a small group of what looked like college aged women. Smiles were etched on all their faces. Nesta lifted her hand to touch the frown she wore. It only deepened.

Just be happy for once, Nesta thought to herself.

As the bartender refilled her gin and tonic, someone approached the barstool to her left. Nesta glanced sideway to discover a young man with a hard face. He looked about her age with dark hair and a tanned complexion. He was handsome in a rugged kind of way. Removing his leather jacket, he revealed the fitted shirt he wore, which clung a body that screamed “I go to the gym every day.” Before he sat next to her, the man dropped a duffle bag on the floor with a loud thud.

He didn’t seem to notice her as he flagged down the bartender and ordered a drink. His voice was low, tired. She recognized the sound. It was the sound of someone who was exhausted, and not just in the physical sense.

“Running away from home?” Nesta asked. The man turned his head to find her gesturing to his oversized bag.

Why did I just say that? she asked herself. Nesta rarely made conversation, much less with some stranger at a bar. It was abundantly clear that she had certainly drunk enough alcohol to wash away any and all inhibitions.

He chuckled. “Something like that.” The man peered at her closer. His hazel eyes twinkled in the dim lights as he inspected her. “Bad day?”

“Care to elaborate?”

A sober Nesta would have shut him down before he had the chance to even ask. A sober Nesta wouldn’t have even made conversation with this dark, handsome man.

Alas, she was three drinks down and had no intention of stopping anytime soon.

“I got into my dream school,” she started. “It has a really great grad program. When I read the letter, I reached for my phone to tell someone. Only, I realized I had no one to call. I… I realized that I’m all on my own.”

He stared at her for a moment. “That’s quite a feat. You should be proud.”

Nesta shrugged, uncomfortable with the man’s genuine tone. She never figured out how to tolerate a compliment, much less accept it.

They fell silent before he spoke again.

“I’m about to be on my own, too,” he confessed, focusing his attention on his calloused hands that rested on the counter. “And I don’t know how to feel either.”

No wonder he looks so exhausted, Nesta thought. She could see the conflict in his body language, his tone. War was waging in the stranger’s eyes, and it didn’t seem like the first time he’d gone to battle.

She wanted to ask where he was going. What was in his bag. Who he was leaving behind. But Nesta only nodded with understanding.

I see you.

In that moment, they formed some sort of kinship. They weren’t just two strangers at the bar. It was longing, Nesta realized. Longing for a connection, a companionship. To escape from the perpetual loneliness.

They stared at each other until the man broke his gaze when he checked his watch. He cursed.

“I have to leave now if I want to catch the bus,” he explained. Nesta watched him down the rest of his drink and stand up.

“Good luck,” Nesta said feebly as he shrugged on his jacket.

She wanted to say more. He seemed to need it… and so did she. “Whenever you get lonely, just remember that strange girl at the bar. She’ll be thinking about you.”

His face softened. “Good luck,” he whispered.

#nessian #bittersweet #nesta archeron #cassian #acomaf #acotar #acowar #acosf #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #my writing #fanfiction #angst #fic

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hectabdr · 3 years

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Dragon Raja IV - Chapters 11 & 12 (Abridged)

Hi everyone!

Today's chapters are a little slower than the previous ones, but they have a lot of insight on Nono, Luminous and the nature of their relationship. I also kept more of the original dialog for the same reason.

BTW, this is the point where the illustrations suddenly stopped for some reason so... No more drawings :P

Previous chapters.

Chapter 11

A girl waited in the top lobby of the Black Prince International Financial Center. At 21 years old, Tu Xiaojiao was already known as the "Sophie Marceau of China". She was in that building to meet the legendary "Master Shao", the inheritor of this powerful organization. If anyone else in the world made Miss Tu wait for more than half an hour, she would leave the place immediately, but Mr. Shao was different, he could offer her the role of her life, so she decided to stay in the waiting room.

When the receptionist finally allowed her to enter Shao's office, she found him next to the window, reading a poem out loud. She had to wait for him to finish for fifteen minutes, her high heels started making her feet feel numb, wondering if he was mocking her, Shao didn't even notice her presence. To her dismay, once he finally saw her in his office, it didn't make much of a difference, since Shao only had one topic in his mind, his adored senior was back.

Miss Tu tried to be polite, and asked to know more about this "senior" girl. When Shao was younger, he had a girlfriend, she was actually one year younger than him, but she demanded to be referred as his senior and he obsessed over her for the rest of his life. He even showed miss Xiaojiao a picture of himself and his senior back when they were a couple. Tu Xiaojiao was confused, in the tiny photograph, there were two children, one looked like Shao and by his side, there was a girl who seemed completely indifferent towards him. This was cut from a kindergarten group photo, and he carried it in his wallet ever since.

Shao had everything at his disposal since he was born, his focus in the entertainment industry was nothing but a hobby. He could visit any place that he wanted, he could buy any piece of clothing and of course, he could date some of the most beautiful women in the world. But he didn't want any of them as his wife. The woman of his life had to be someone who would make him beg for her affection, someone who would make him kneel in her presence. The only woman who could make that to him, was Chen Motong.

Every time that Miss Chen came back to the country, he felt like a five year old all over again, but getting her heart wouldn't be an easy task. She acted cold and demanding, when she arrived he asked her out for dinner but she just wanted to borrow a car from him and left. He heard about an Italian man, apparently her boyfriend and he couldn't learn anything else about him, it was driving him crazy, but he received some information that brought some hope back into his eyes. Miss Chen had a friend in town, and he was in the hospital. Shao left his office with Miss Tu in it, on his way to meet Mr Luminous.

Young Lu was also disheartened because of Nono, although, his reasons were different. His 91st attempt to save her also ended in failure. When he realized that they were once again going to die, Nono desperately tried to make him react, but he lazily waited in the car seat for the whole scenario to restart, frustrated and annoyed, as the gravity of the situation slowly became less palpable. He looked to his side and saw Nono's face looking at him. Her expression was as ruthless as ever but in her eyes he saw deep sadness, he almost felt like hugging her before they died but the simulation ended. To him, death meant that he would have to start all over again, but for Nono, every single time it meant a genuine end.

To interrupt his depression, a young, short, overweight man entered his room. He called himself a friend of Miss Chen and Luminous thought for a second that she sent him there to get him out of the hospital, but Shao was there to speak.

He started making questions, in particular, who was this Italian scumbag that he heard about? Tragically for him, Luminous spoke highly of Caesar's fortune, personality and actions, and to make matters worse, he wasn't only Chen's boyfriend, but her fiancé.

A depressed Shao proceeded to tell an anecdote from his childhood. When he was studying in the United Kingdom, Shao felt belittled next to ehe aristocratic children that studied with him, so he started bragging about his own family's wealth and promising other kids money for listening to him, when he tried to show off in front of Nono, she beat him up and told him to call her "Senior Sister".

The school's Rugby matches also got violent, Shao played aggressively, so the other kids retaliated against his attitude by deliberately kicking him in the face and hitting him with the ball. His front teeth got broken as there was no coach present to stop them. He sat down on the grass, defeated, when Nono took his place in the match, she fearlessly rushed into a defense of fifteen boys while Shao swore to his heart that one day he would marry that girl, even if he had to kneel and crawl in front of her.

Shao compared himself to the protagonist form "The Great Gatsby", who desperately needed to be with his love interest, Miss Daisy.

-Why should a girl be with a man who needs her?

She should be with a man she needs. My senior sister doesn't need me, I am the one who needs her.

Before Shao left, Luminous reminded him of a scene in "Journey to the West" where Tang Sanzang found a silly monkey who lived behind a waterfall. The cowardly monkey recognized Tang's strength and left his hidden home to follow him around the world. There are two types of monkeys in the world, the smart ones that can survive out there on their own, and the silly ones, who need a master they look up to.

Shao understood his metaphor and he felt encouraged. Realizing he could trust the strange mental patient enough to untie one of his hands, Shao gave Luminous a can of beer and they toasted. When Shao left, Luminous took a syringe from the side table and injected himself with more sedatives. This was his 92nd attempt.

Shao returned to his office, motivated and lively.

-I met a new brother today!

He encouraged me to come back here, he's a philosopher and his words are very touching!

People living in mental hospitals are all experts in this kind of stuff.

He realized that he left without saying goodbye to Miss Tu, but his apology wasn't answered, because the girl in his office was Nono. She was drinking, looking tired, she didn't wear any makeup and silently stared at the window.

Shao was determined to win her over, but Nono answered most of his questions briefly and coldly. She didn't want to speak with him, she was just there to return the car keys and now she wanted to leave.

Shao's pitiful voice tone softened her attitude a little so she asked him for some gin with ice. Nono drank the whole glass in one sip and asked for a refill. She had another glass, and another.

- Senior sister, is someone bullying you?

- Who could possibly bully me?

- Usually no one, but aren't you engaged now?

- Caesar wouldn't do that, don't worry about it, just take care of yourself.

- Are you really going to marry an Italian? Those guys spend their money so recklessly!

- Could you give me a better reason not to marry him? Who are you to say those things? Stop messing around and just confess your intentions.

- I'm your boyfriend from kindergarten! If you gave me a chance instead I could be endlessly more confident and...

- You? "Endless"? Nono was so angry that she laughed.

Shao Kneeled and asked Nono to be his girlfriend instead. He kneeled in one knee, so she asked him to kneel on both like he used to, and he did, but not for begging, he used to do so as punishment. Nono didn't like his subservient attitude.

- We were just classmates, I was wrong to treat you so hardly, but you don't have to hold on to me, I am engaged and you could marry just anyone.

Shao kept begging, Nono deflected every single one of his arguments until he recited Luminous's "Journey to the west" reference. His delivery was incredible, but she had no reaction to it, she looked at her glass with tired eyes. She got up on her feet and entered the elevator.

After she left, Shao was avidly celebrating, he interpreted her reaction as progress and showed off in front of his employees.

Nono stopped at a small ramen restaurant to warm up her rain-soaked body. Chu Tianjiao was her last clue and she lost it. If Luminous was actually sick, why didn't she give up on him yet?

Why did she feel the need to insist on his case? This wasn't only about her, every moment she spent in the middle of nowhere, escaping from the secret party, she got Caesar in trouble. How was she supposed to explain this to them?

She had to admit that she cared too much about Luminous's well-being. She wouldn't doubt to give him her diving suit, she immediately called him last year when she and Caesar were overwhelmed by Scythe ferrets to warn him of the impending danger and now that the whole world was against him, she kept insisting on proving his sanity. Regarding his feelings for her, she comforted herself with positive thoughts. Who didn't have a crush on a senior girl at some point in his life?

Zero was great for him, so was Isabelle, if she had known Erii in person, Nono would have considered them to be "such a fucking perfect match".

Over the last few years, this petty boy had grown up, he became more energetic, better dressed and gained so much experience, yet he kept holding on to her. She left Shao's office without saying a word because she recognized those words belonged to Luminous. They were about Luminous.

- Chen motong, you're such a fool, you messed everything up.

Chapter 12

An exhausted Su Xiaoyao leaned back on her office chair, she had spent a long day on work meetings and in the middle of the night her phone kept ringing. This was her life ever since she had to leave school to take over her father's business. She had gained some weight ever since but no one really cared, she was still one of the top bachelorettes in the city and she had just accepted a blind date, excited to take a break.

During the student reunion, seeing Luminous made her cry a little. It wasn't because she used to have a crush on him during their high school years, she just realized that those carefree days would never repeat themselves. Back in the day, she and the other girls used to sit on the basketball courts to see Luminous play basketball. Even the air felt different.

Su took her high heels off and put her feet on her desk to take a quick nap, but her phone interrupted her attempt to display an urgent text message. It was Liu Miaomiao, her old rival in love.

- Su Xiaoyao, find a way to get here, quick! They put our senior brother in a mental hospital!

Game level: Gungir light, 101st load.

- So, where did you get that rocket launcher again?

- I found it under the seat...

The whole fight seemed extremely rehearsed by now, Luminous always knew exactly where to shoot, it almost looked like he could predict the future.

- Did you learn that in your special training? I want to take that special training too!

Nono slowly became the most problematic element in the simulations, she didn't retain her memories after every attempt like he did. This was probably the first time Luminous felt something other than absolute admiration towards her, she became a little annoying, but he couldn't really blame her. They got in the car and tried to escape, but one of the tires was damaged.

- Are you hungry? I just found some nuts in this car!

He knew Nono was trying to calm him but he was still a little anxious, he repeated the steps to replace the tire in his mind but the car-wheel escaped his hands and rolled over the highway.

His tantrum surprised Nono, who dropped her snacks all over the floor. Ming·Z paused time and got out of the car.

He noticed that Luminous asked to reset his last six attempts instead of waiting for his death, he seemed far more tired than usual after his conversation with Shao, it made him reflect about his feelings for Nono to the point of getting distracted in battle.

- First of all, I'm not the only monkey that she brought out from the waterfall, second, I am the one who needs her, she doesn't need me.

- Brother, I expected you to regret going to Cassell College, you wouldn't be so sad otherwise.

- I don't regret it, if I hadn't gone to Cassell College, I wouldn't know my senior brother nor my senior sister or the boss, nor would I know Finger, the Japanese "Lonesome George" brothers... And Erii.

Luminous ignored Ming·Z's snarky remarks and got a better hold of his feelings.

- I always ran after my senior sister, I like her so much that it makes me very sad that I can't be with her. Caesar was born with everything, he could have married any girl he liked but he picked the only one I cared about.

Suddenly I realized that I'm wrong, that was just wishful thinking on my part.

There are more people for me out there, Erii liked me, but Nono was the only one I had eyes for. Nono doesn't need me, I'm the one who feels at ease when I follow her, like she'll feel relieved when she marries the boss. She wouldn't feel like that if she were with me and to pursue her is to act on my most selfish side, why did my senior brother support me?

- Your senior brother wasn't that upright, don't you think?

- Finally, are you willing to admit that he's real?

- Okay okay, Johann Chu really does exist, but there is something wrong with him and you need to get him back"

- Then I'm relieved.

Ming·Z confirmed more things, the city was closed on all exits due to the weather conditions and the Nibelungen was invading their reality on a large scale.

- Thank you, Ming·Z·Lu. Why do you call yourself Ming·Z? You deliberately used my cousin's name"

- No, my name is Ming·Z·Lu, there has always been a Ming·Z·Lu in your life and that's me, not the fat boy in your uncle's house.

Luminous went back to the car, picked the dozens of floating snacks and put them back in Nono's palm one by one.

- Sister, don't worry, you will be fine, I will definitely find a way, I changed my mind, I will attend your wedding, I'll see you in your white dress holding orange flowers, walking on a red carpet full of happiness... Maybe you should throw the bouquet in my direction.

Three girls were sobbing next to his bed when he woke up, Chen Wenwen was the first face he recognized, followed by Su Xiaoyao and Liu Miaomiao. Su was one of the most influential persons in town, so she demanded that her old classmate got released from the hospital.

They took him out on a car and decided to stop on a luxurious bar. They all felt a little insecure about what they were wearing, so Su Xiaoyao asked her driver to bring them their old school uniforms.

Sitting at the bar, after multiple drinks, the girls kept reminiscing of their old days in high school, Luminous past in this reality was the same as Johann's, including his Saxophone recitals at the cultural festivals. He used to envy Johann so much back then...

He stood up and told everyone that he was going to the bathroom, but he changed back to his normal clothes and got out of the bar. A man with a motorized tricycle was waiting for potential passengers outside and Luminous gave him his expensive watch as insurance for borrowing his small vehicle.

He drove all the way to the Number 10 highway and entered the Nibelungen again. Odin was waiting for him far away, he didn't say a word but he slowly raised his lance. Luminous turned around and left the god's prison.

Back in his old apartment, Finger had befriended Luminous's aunt and kept doing shores for her. Nono came back to the place and they argued about their course of action.

- If I had known this was going to happen, I wouldn't have rescued him from that theater.

- Feels like you stepped in bubble gum and you can't take it off.

Finger suddenly left the room and came back with the news, Luminous had left the hospital with three old classmates. Nono grabbed an umbrella and ran out. She knew the bar and she knew about Su Xiaoyao, they weren't going to be hard to find.

By the time she arrived, the three girls were arguing after Luminous left. They actually tried to blame each other, the way they admired him was surprising to Nono. Suddenly, Luminous came back and justified his absence by saying that he went to a convenience store to get something to eat.

Nono watched them from the dark, feeling really stupid, there was a strange obsession that she couldn't let go of. In fact, she should have driven away the silly monkey that pestered her long ago, the more she helped him, the more he would rely on her. This wasn't good for any of them, but she couldn't bear to refuse.

She was afraid that he would end up crying alone in the wilderness, where no one could listen to him. She hoped that one day he could become one of those smart monkeys who run around happily, but maybe this silly monkey was smart from the beginning and she was pitying someone who didn't really need her.

She strolled under the heavy rain, her clothes were soaking and stuck to her body, it was a long way back to the uncle's house but she wanted to walk alone. She felt colder and colder and for the first time in her life she missed the Golden Iris Academy. She felt like going to a ramen stand again but there were no businesses in sight, however, there was a phone booth.

One call, that's all she needed to give away her location, Caesar made her memorize an emergency number long ago, it was the right thing to do, the person she should trust the most in this situation was not Finger or Luminous, but Caesar. Dialing felt like betraying her old classmates, but she started pressing the numbers.

"No, no, no, no, no, don't be like this, don't be like this"

Subconsciously, she looked aside and saw a small boy in the rain, looking at her from the other side of the glass. What was such a young boy doing out there on his own?

He was delicate and beautiful, like a porcelain doll.

- Are you looking for me? She asked.

The expressionless face of the boy slowly got horrifyingly distorted by the raindrops on the glass. She couldn't breathe due to an overwhelming sadness, so she opened the door but the boy was not there anymore. She took the calling card out of the booth and hanged up the phone.

Rome, Italy.

Caesar was waiting in front of a phone, he was under a lot of pressure, but the moment he received Nono's call, all of his problems would be over, yet the phone was silent.

The family elders felt like Luminous had stolen something that belonged to their heir, so they suggested that he cancelled his marriage.

- No, there are only two people in this world who can dissolve that engagement, Nono and me.

To avoid being put under heavy suspicion, he had to act calm and decisive, like he did a few days ago, when he released the monsters from the ice cellar to find the fugitives. Parsi entered the room and informed Caesar about the worsening weather conditions in Beijing, this type of climate phenomenons usually signaled the awakening of powerful dragons.

Luminous, the never-existing Johann Chu, the grim reaper, it was all starting to make sense. Caesar instructed Parsi to prepare his private jet and his desert eagles, he also dissuaded Parsi from going with him. At the lionheart club, president Babru informed the former president and dragon slayer Abdullah Abbas that Caesar wanted to team up with him to hunt the dragon down.

Intrigued, Abdullah accepted and instructed everyone to get ready.

To be continued, final update on Monday.

#Dragon Raja #dragon raja novel #luminous #ming z lu #nono #caesar gattuso #johann chu

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theonlygamergost · 4 years

Text

With brothers by my side-Fd!au

This fanfiction is based on the Family Dynamic au made by @antarctic-bay, if you would like to know more, go check them out!!!

Also please bear in mind that the things written in this might not be canon!

Of course this fic was grammatically corrected by the amazing @im-default

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Minetra was rambling about how the boys would handle being stressed and under pressure, and this fanfiction focuses mainly on Wilbur, since she gave me an amazing prompt without realizing it

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Enjoy~

“Ok class!” The english teacher grabbed everyone’s attention by clapping. The sound echoing in the large, mostly empty, room.

“Today we will be reading the speeches you have written for this weekend festival, as you may already know, every class will give a speech, and today, hopefully with no hard feelings, we will decide whose speech is going to be presented, and who will read it”

Will was too tired to listen and to care, he had forgotten that this “speech-thing” was due today, (because the teacher gave them an entire week to write it, but Wilbur remembered it only the day before) so he had to pull a classic all-nighter to get it done in time, but everyone had to write one, so a three am sleep-deprived text was good enough to show he had done it, get a decent vote, and move on.

One by one, everyone read their speeches, the difference by an actual speech and a last-minute one was abyssal, Wilbur was half-listening, half-struggling to not fall asleep and half-thinking about accords to play on the guitar after school ended.

“Mr.Pandel?” Wilbur abruptly straightened his back, almost knocking his pencil case off the desk “Since you look bored of your classmate’s speeches, why don’t you illuminate us with your speech?”

Oh you bitch

Without adding anything else, he stood up, took a deep breath and started reading his text, a mess that was not even written properly, it was scribbled SO badly he struggled to read it, and between illegible hieroglyphs and grammatical errors, it would have made any english teacher scream out of terror.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His speech ended up being not terrible, but if he would have put any effort into it, no doubt his speech would have been chosen in a heartbeat.

It did help that his voice was secure and very convincing, so in the worst case scenario, he would have gotten off with an average vote.

After everyone read their texts, it was time to choose who’s one was going on a stage.

The vote was fought between the British boy whose family was royal and all that bullshit and a girl who often skipped classes, so no one remembered her name...the girl ended up winning the vote and the boy almost flipped her off in front of the teacher, it would have been hilarious, but it didn't happen.

“Now that that’s settled…” The teacher cleared her throat, cleaning the blackboard to vote for the second decision: who was going to read the speech?

Student after student, the votes for Wilbur skyrocketed, to the point where no one was even close to the points he had: he was going to hold the speech as his class representative at the school’s open festival.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As he was closing the front door, he shouted “I’m home!”, waiting for a reply that would never arrive.

The house was empty, which made Wilbur a little sad since he had just shouted a greeting to empty walls.

He slipped his phone out of his pocket into his hand while opening the cupboards, grabbing Tommy’s cereals and… Oh yeah… That…

He had forgotten that his mug was in the sink, since no one had washed up the dishes that morning… Meaning that there were also no spoons left… Goddammit

Placing the phone on the counter, he grabbed his mug and the spoon in it to wash them, was he going to wash the rest of the dishes? No, after all, he wasn't the one on sink duty that night, so he couldn't care less.

After cleaning his mug, pouring cereals and milk and sitting down on the couch to open Youtube, it hit him properly.

He was going to give a speech as his class representative at the school’s open festival… Open…

Wait- shit, OPEN?!

He almost spat out the milk as he thought of that.

His school’s open festival was actually pretty known in town, and it was sure to attract parents and grandparents of the students, plus, everyone that swung by since there was also a market of hand-made miscellaneous.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh, that’s amazing Will!”

“Way to go bro!”

“...Cool”

Were the reaction of the Pandel brothers, Phil was very proud and supportive, Tommy was straight up happy for him and Techno was… tired, very tired ,three deadlines were coming up at once and he didn’t have time to work on them before because he had other things to study. But from the small tired smile he gave him, Wilbur understood that he was just as happy as the other two.

“I’m also working for our class's stand!” Tommy was radiating the energy and excitement Techno was missing while explaining his role at the festival. “We will be serving juice made from flowers! It was a science experiment and it turned out great! Me, Tubbo and Deo will make the lavender extract!”

“If it’s made by you three, I’m not trying it, I don’t trust you” Will teased Tommy, who instantly took the bait and barked back, Phil just laughed at the small back and forth between them that went on for a good two minutes.

“And you Techno?” Phil asked the half-asleep teen, “Are you doing anything for the festival?” Techno took back his plate after giving it to Tommy for a refill, “Publicly? Nah, too much pressure, I’m helping the teachers count how many spots we need. I let the plebs do the hard work, I just tell them where to put their stuff and which stand is theirs”

After dinner everyone went to do their own things, and miraculously, everyone slept more than five hours that night, they all needed and deserved it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the days before the event, Wilbur studied by heart the speech, every now and then saying it out loud to be sure it sounded good.

As the festival got closer though, his stress and the pressure placed on him by teachers and students alike became more and more, heavier and heavier.

Until the day arrived, from when he woke up, he kept count of the hours and minutes that separated him from either a catastrophe, or a smooth speech.

He was scared of both of them equally.

Phil and Will were walking between the stands, Techno was laid off by the teachers a couple of minutes ago, so he caught up and joined them, Will couldn't help but notice the white shirt with the black and red diagonal line tie with golden hints that Techno was wearing, it looked very good on him, it made him look very fancy-

“HEY BITCHES!!!” Tommy waved energetically, embarrassing Tubbo and Deo, “COME TRY OUT THIS SHIT!”

“T-Tommy please don’t shout that…” Tubbo whispered.

Tommy’s class stand, judging by the que, was very popular, the flower’s extracts were attracting everyone, but Tommy just gave them access from behind the stand, the lavender extract ended up being very good.

“If you want I can do it at home too! I’m a- I’m an extract master now! Yeah!” Everyone laughed at Tommy’s confidence while enjoying the sweet hand-made drink.

~~~~~~~~

Will was scared, peeking from the black curtain, the sea of students and adults in front of the stage inside the gym building was infinite, Wilbur couldn't see the end.

He sat down and brought his knees to his chest, he was stressed, scared...how could he have been so confident until now? How did he manage to agree to this? Why-

“Are you there Will?” Phil’s voice made him bounce on his feet, making his head spin by the rushed actions.

Putting up a fake smile, he greeted his brothers “H-hello Boys! heh…”

“Wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiill!!! There are so many people out there! It’s the year before yours that’s giving the speech right now, aren’t you nervous?” Tommy was munching on the sour candy Techno had bought him to redeem himself from the time he stole his candy. Will was trying his hardest not to bite his lip or fiddle around with his shirt.

“I’m fine boys! Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing! eheh…”

Phil was looking at Will confused, his head tilted to one side.

“If you say so Will…” Techno was also skeptical about Will’s words… but he decided to believe his older brother, “Do your best out there, you know how to do it” His smile became a bit more sincere when listening to Techno's words.

The older one shook his head, “Don’t give me that bullshit Wilbur, c’mere” Phil grabbed the younger out of nowhere and embraced him as tightly as he could.

Wilbur was frozen by the shock, clenching his fists while trying not to cry. The younger two looked at him and then at each other, after nodding, they joined in on the hug.

After a minute of silence, Phil spoke up, “I know you’re nervous Wilbur, everyone would be” the warmth coming from his brothers was melting his stress away, their hugs making a wall around his body and head, he couldn't hear the outside noises anymore.

“I believe in you Will, I’m sure that once you get on that stage, everything will go smoothly just as you planned. Show the world you are stronger than your emotions” As they freed Wilbur from the brotherly… no, family hug, he was focused up and confident.

Techno placed a hand on his shoulder and mouthed “You got this” and followed the other two who were already out of Wilbur’s sight.

He took a deep breath as the voice on stage introduced him.

Here we go

He stepped on stage as cheers and claps filled the air, in the large crowd before him, he noticed his classmates and a couple of teachers, and of course, his brothers.

Phil was smiling with a thumbs up, Tommy was shouting “GO WILBUR GO!!!” while jumping up and down, Techno nodded and cracked a smile:

With his brothers by his side, he was ready to take on the whole world.

#technoblade #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #philza #ph1lza #fd!au #my fanfiction #my writing

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dindjarindiaries · 4 years

Text

Collide - Chapter 6

summary: Determined to prove herself in the midst of Javier’s ignorance, bella sets out to investigate a tip—and instead ends up in the rain with the person she least wants to see.

warnings: angst, minor sexual assault, choking, mentions of rape, threats of violence, fluff

rating: R

word count: 6.406k

masterlist

chapter 6

The next two weeks are hell. You’re certain you’ve damned yourself to eternal torture before you’ve even had a chance to get your soul saved. Escobar’s still nowhere to be found, you’ve gone through the same files at least ten times now, and Javier’s pretending that you don’t exist. You’ve attempted conversation with him multiple times and even tried to invite him to any outings you ventured on with Steve and Connie, but he never retaliated or accepted. Javier seems completely shut off, as if his sole purpose in life is to find Escobar—and that alone.

You’ve only had a singular one-on-one conversation since he stormed out of your apartment that night, and it was solely for Steve’s wellbeing. You could tell that he was annoyed by whatever rift was between you and Javier, and you remembered what you and Javier had agreed upon the first day you arrived in Medellín: no matter what, work to get along for Murphy’s sake. With Javier pretending you’re not even in the room, that became difficult, and it was starting to piss Steve off. So, when Steve disappeared for a few minutes to refill his mug of coffee, you’d turned to Javier with a sharp look in your eye.

“Javier.”

Javier’s head had snapped up at you, his expression reflecting his shock at your audacity to even try speaking to him alone. Your jaw was clenched, and you gritted your teeth when you saw the innocent flash in his eyes—as if he was a child being scolded for something he didn’t do. “What?”

You had released a dry chuckle, shaking your head as you leaned forward on your desk. “Don’t ‘what’ me. You know what you’ve been doing recently, and while I can’t tell you to stop it outside of work, I can when it affects our work.” You’d paused, letting Javier have a chance to speak, but he surprisingly said nothing. You continued. “We said we would keep things civil for Steve the day I got here. So, put on your big boy pants, swallow your grudge for a few hours, and just treat me like your damn partner, alright? I’m not asking for more.” As much as it fucking hurts me, you’d thought to yourself.

Javier had stayed silent for a few seconds, simply gazing at you and almost studying you. You wondered what he was looking for. All you needed was an answer—a compliance—and nothing else. But his gaze was saying something else. Before you had a chance to identify it, however, he looked back to his work. “Fine, Agent. I can do that.”

Not hearing the word bella fall from his lips felt like a stab to your very heart, but you brushed it off, nodding in a satisfied manner as you tried to return to your own work. The sight was a bit blurry from tears at first, as you hated the way Javier had grown so cold to you so quickly. But there was nothing you could do until Javier came to you first. You still don’t know exactly what you said to him that night, and until you do, you can’t have a proper conversation with him about it. You could end up being wrong about how much you’d said to him and end up hurting him even more.

You want to be angry with him for acting like a child. You want to be hurt that he’s not even making an attempt to save whatever flicker of friendship or romance you two had left. You want to be sad that he wants nothing to do with you. But the only thing you can feel right now is regret—regret that you fooled yourself into believing you had another chance with him, that you let yourself react so strongly to his antics at the bar that night, that you told him you never wanted to see him again all those years ago. He’s not the only one to blame, and that’s what hurts the most. You’ve done this to yourself.

That’s why when you finally get a tip, you don’t tell him about it.

Looking through the papers, transcripts, and whatever shit you scraped from around the city actually paid off for once. You discovered that the name of a certain club was used three separate times in different transcripts—but all from the same source. You’re not sure how nobody else picked up on this, but you know it has to mean something. If there’s one thing you’ve learned from Steve and Javier so far, it’s that the number three means you’ve got something worth looking into. This man could potentially lead you to a sicario, which is the kind of break everyone needs right now. But you feel the need to prove yourself, to both your partners, so you keep your personal investigation under wraps.

You know this man—who you’ve codenamed as Tres—has always mentioned the club’s name either on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon, leading you to believe that visits typically happen in between those times: Saturday nights. Now that a Saturday has rolled around, you’re insistent upon checking your theory, and you prepare yourself to play the role of the woman who coaxes all the information out of him under a spell of seduction.

You thank yourself for remembering to pack at least some of the dresses you consider to be on the raunchier side of formal, settling for a black one that hugs tight to your body and plunges its neckline right into the sweet spot of your cleavage. It shows off enough to get him interested and dazed, but also keeps your body protected in a way you’d like it to be. You give yourself the necessary time to style your hair in its best-looking way, applying heavier makeup than usual. After strapping on a pair of heels, you figure you’re set to blend into the nightclub atmosphere and get as close to Tres as necessary.

Before you leave your apartment that night, you check for any signs of your partners wandering around. When you’re sure it’s clear, you begin to head out, being as quiet as your heels will allow as you make it to your car. Taking a deep breath in relief at the fact you’ve gone unnoticed, you start to take off for the club, running through the script you’ve made for yourself in your head at least a thousand times. You try not to feel nervous—it’s not like you never had to do this kind of shit in your last DEA position—but something about this feels heavier. You push down the thought that’s saying you wish Javier would be there with you, hating the fact it even exists.

The club isn’t terribly far from the apartments, and upon arriving, you pull up your car along the sidewalk further down the block. You give yourself an encouraging nod in the rearview mirror before you step out and start to head inside. On the way, you feel the humidity in the Medellín air clash with your nerves, but any premature sweat is wiped away by the few raindrops that begin to fall from the sky. You quicken your steps to get in before it comes down harder, and the weather soon becomes the least of your worries.

The club is dark, but still allows you to look around and see the faces of those seeking a night of relief and rebellion. The picture of Tres is burned into your memory from where you’d scraped it up in one of the files, and you try to find him as you begin to walk through the sweaty crowd of dancers. Your first strut over to the bar reaps you no benefit, and you grimace as you step up and order something fairly light. You’ve been determined not to drink too much in the aftermath of what happened two weeks ago, and you’d like to avoid something going wrong should it happen again. With the drink in hand, you continue peering around, feeling a skip in your heart when your eyes finally fall upon the man in question.

Tres has a small posse around him, but he doesn’t seem interested in their discussion. His eyes are elsewhere, and you can only hope that it’s for the purpose you intend on using to your benefit. Deciding to make your venture sooner than later, you start to head in his direction, pretending to be aimless as you hope to catch his eye. Though you’re no longer looking his way, you can practically feel the burn of his gaze when it lands on you, and you try to calm your racing heart when you notice he’s moving in your direction. You finally dare to meet his gaze, letting yourself give him a seductive once over as he closes the distance between the two of you.

“Buenas noches, señorita,” Tres greets you in a rough voice. You bat your lashes at him, sipping on your drink as you let him continue. “¿Por qué tan solita, guapa?”

You offer a sweet laugh, letting yourself get closer as you give him the smallest of smiles. “Tu dime, ¿En dónde has estado?”

Tres looks you over, his gaze lingering pointedly on your cleavage as you resist the urge to let the bile rise in your throat. “Ay, lo entiendo, guapa.” You hold in a gasp when one of his arms hooks around your waist and secures you against him, his fingers trailing down until they brush over your ass. You bite your lip to keep yourself from screaming out in protest, hoping to instead fashion it into something more seductive. He invites your body to move to the music against his, and you find yourself taking a large gulp of your drink as you try not to think too hard about the uncomfortable situation you’re in. You picture yourself somewhere else, dancing voluntarily against a person of your own choice. Upon envisioning that person, you only want to hate yourself more—but the dire stakes of the situation cause you not to care.

Tres’ hands start to go places you don’t want them to, but you know you can’t swat them away. You’re here to play a part. If you want to get the gritty details of Escobar that you think you can from this man, then you’ll have to play dirty. Compared to what you’ve heard of Carrillo’s and Javier’s tactics, this is child’s play, and you tell yourself you can handle it. You can’t show that this isn’t what you want, because then you’ll never get what you truly want. You need to prove yourself and get to Escobar—at all costs.

After many more minutes of dancing and emptying your glass in desperation to drown your worries, you hear Tres talking to you once again, his lips grazing your ear as your back is forced against him. “Eres muy sensual, bonita,” he tells you, his voice creating a chill in your spine. His grip on your waist gets rougher with his next few words. “Especialmente para una gringa.” Your eyes nearly widen in fear at his realization, but before you can say anything to refute his ideas, he’s continuing on. “Ahora, ¿qué está haciendo una gringa completamente sola en un club, bailando con un hombre que tiene información sobre Escobar?”

You bite your lip, trying to think up a lie quickly. “No tengo idea de que estas hablando, guapo. Yo solo quiero—.”

“¿Pór qué no hablamos en un lugar más privado—donde nadie pueda oírte gritar?” Tres cuts you off with a hiss. Not wanting to give yourself completely away just yet, you nod to agree, trying to stop the shakiness in your hands or the lurching in your stomach as he maintains a hold on your arm. Tres leads you into some back hallway of the club, bringing you deep into the dimly lit area before he pins you between himself and the wall. You lift your chin, finally deciding that the jig’s up—and you’re being comprised. “Conozco la diferencia entre mis putas y las ratas de la DEA,” Tres spits, furrowing his brow as his hands tighten around your waist. You hiss lightly at the grip that’s sure to leave bruises, swallowing away the rest of the pain as you think of a quick response.

“Estás cometiendo un gran error,” you tell him lowly, narrowing your eyes at him. “Podrías conseguir una generosa recompense si me dices todo lo que sabes.”

Tres laughs, one of his hands leaving your waist to instead wrap around your throat. He doesn’t squeeze hard enough to restrict your airway but leaves a dangerous opportunity to do so hanging there. “No quiero tu dinero, bonita. Solo quiero el placer de ver como te retuerces mientras te tomo.” You swallow hard, knowing exactly what he means—and preparing yourself to fight against it. “No te preocupes, bonita, no voy a matarte. Sólo te haré desear estar muerta.”

As he speaks, Tres substitutes his other hand on your waist for his knee, keeping you pinned against the wall as his now-free hand suddenly grips the neckline of your dress. He tears at it, causing you to gasp as the fabric rips and starts to expose much more than you feel comfortable. Before he can get any farther, the sudden footsteps and cocking of a gun are heard from the end of the hallway, causing both your heads to turn at the sound. You nearly fall limp in Tres’ arms at your relief.

“¡Suéltala!” Javier’s exclamation is loud and stern, his both of his hands flexing on his trigger as he points it at Tres. “¡Ahora!”

Immediately, Tres releases his hold on you, and you reach for the torn pieces of your dress to cover yourself back up properly. Your hands are shaking, and you quickly make your way over to Javier. His gaze never leaves the suspect in question, but once you’re in range, he frees one of his arms to protectively push you further behind him. Tres lets out a curt chuckle, raising his brow at Javier. “Le tienes que enseñar a tus nuevas ratas cómo disfrazarse bien, hijo de puta.”

“Cállate, pedazo mierda,” Javier growls, his grip tightening around his gun. “Eres un maldito mentiroso que usa el nombre de Escobar para salirte con la tuya. No puedes hacer comentarios acerca de nuestras tácticas.”

“Es cierto,” Tres laughs. “Cógetela bien por mi, ¿bien?”

“Come mierda,” Javier bites back, gesturing with his gun to the exit of the hallway. Tres begins to walk out, giving you a sly wink before he disappears back into the club scene. You release a breath you haven’t realized you’ve been holding, watching as Javier immediately tucks his gun into the back of his pants and turns his attention to you. He shrugs off his leather jacket and helps you slide it on over your dress, covering the part that’s now been torn away. When he’s sure he’s made you comfortable, he grabs you by the shoulders, looking into your gaze with nothing but concern and fear. “Are you okay?” Javier practically breathes, searching for any other potential wounds. You simply nod, feeling the weight of failure on your shoulders. Javier starts to grimace, his eyes narrowing as a bit of frustration enters his gaze. “You had me terrified when I heard you leaving, and I saw you were coming here. What the hell were you thinking, bella?”

“I was thinking that I had to do something,” you tell him, clenching your jaw defensively. “I found the name of this club three times, and I thought I’d try to—.”

“And had you told us, we would’ve told you that he’s bullshit,” Javier insists gruffly. “The only reason he’s even on file is because he’s used Escobar’s name—but we’ve found out it’s just to get laid by impressing his whores.” He lets out a deep sigh, shaking his head as his hands fall from your shoulders. “You should’ve told me.”

Your anger begins to grow, and you cross your arms defensively as you face him. “Really?” you scoff. “I should’ve told you when you haven’t even spoken to me for two weeks?”

Javier’s gaze darkens, and you watch as he circles his jaw. “This is different. This is work-related, isn’t it?”

You let out a dry chuckle, raising your brow at him. “Yeah, and I felt so comfortable with the idea of you accompanying me here outside of work when you won’t even say a single damn thing to me outside of the office.”

Javier’s brow creases as he steps closer to you. “I wouldn’t have accompanied you anywhere because I would’ve fucking told you he was bullshit! If you’re gonna be partners with Steve and I, you can’t leave us in the fucking dark like that!”

“Leave you in the dark?” You laugh angrily, shaking your head in disbelief. “You’re one to talk about that! How about the fact it’s been two damn weeks since whatever the hell happened on the way back from the bar, and you’re still leaving me in the dark about what I said? Don’t you realize you’re the only person who can fill me in on that? Now, I just have to assume that I said something so fucking bad that you hate me beyond repair! And that feels awful, Javi!”

“You want to know what you said?” Javier raises his brow at you, as if challenging you to listen. You raise your chin at him, anticipating his reply. “Fine. You told me that I made you feel like a whore, and that you’d been saving yourself for me but never told me—and then you told me your parents are fucking dead and that you’d needed me there with you, but I wasn’t. Basically, you told me that I’m a piece of shit.”

Your eyes widen to double their usual size. Fuck. You’d really spilled out a lot of the things you meant to tell him more delicately in the future. You swallow hard, trying to think of a way to respond to him. “Javi… I—that’s not how I wanted you to find out.”

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Javier’s tone is thick with anger now. “Were you just going to pretend that none of that shit ever happened? That I didn’t take your fucking virginity, or that your parents are fucking dead? And that you never even bothered to tell me?”

“And were you going to invite me to your fucking wedding, Javier?” You’re seething now, all of the frustrations that have been building up for years finally coming loose. “Don’t think I never found out about that, pendejo.”

“You know what happened, don’t you?” Javier’s stepped closer to you now so that you’re almost chest-to-chest, your gazes both full of furious fire as you unleash all of your built-up emotions. “You know that I didn’t go through with it—because I couldn’t. So there’s no fucking reason to rehash something that didn’t happen!”

“You’re pointing the finger at me when you’re the one who’s dug yourself into this hole, Javier!” Your body’s practically shaking in your rage now, and you point your finger into Javier’s chest as your eyes cloud with tears of frustration. “You told me you could make sure I’d never see you again! You used me like a fucking whore on our prom night when I thought you cared about me! You made me feel as if you wouldn’t give a shit about my parents’ funeral! And you didn’t make it to the altar that day! This isn’t my damn fault, Javier! You need to grow up and accept the consequences of your own fucking actions!”

Javier’s gaze is unreadable as it looks into yours, but you can tell by the glossy texture of his eyes that he’s feeling something strong. “I had my reasons,” he asserts—but his words are shaky.

“Yeah, I’m sure you did,” you scoff, stepping away from him. “You used to be so selfless, Javier. I don’t know what the fuck happened, but I miss the cariño who used to have my heart.” You give him a shake of your head, refusing to hear more of his bullshit as you make your way to the door further down the hallway that leads to the street. You open it to meet the pouring rain of the outdoors, cursing to yourself as you tighten Javier’s jacket around you and start to make your way into the storm. You’re beelining for your car when you suddenly hear the loud words of protest from behind you.

“I didn’t do it for myself, bella!” Javier’s voice is full of desperation, and you close your eyes as you stop and take a deep breath. You turn around, seeing Javier approaching you quickly on the sidewalk. He doesn’t seem to care about the way the rain’s completely soaking his clothes to his body, his hair sticking to his forehead as his gaze pleads for you to listen to him. “I did it for you—to protect you.”

“From what?” Your voice is loud enough to be heard over the sound of the rain drumming against the hard ground, but still gives you both the privacy you need.

“From myself.” Javier takes a step closer to you, his eyes widened as he never breaks his gaze with yours. In his look, you see the same Javier you’d known all those years ago—the one you fell in love with. “I did those things with you that night at prom because I tried to prove to myself that I didn’t need you in the way I thought I did—but instead, I learned the opposite.” Javier swallows hard, shaking his head as he stares at you. “I realized that I was more helplessly in love with you than I thought possible.”

Your heart begins to drum against your chest as your lips fall open, and you can feel your anger beginning to simmer as you stare up at him. You want to speak, but you don’t know what to say, and Javier notices this as he continues.

“After that, I had to push you away from me because—fuck, bella, I was scared. You deserved the world, and I was so damn scared I couldn’t give it to you. I knew what I’d be getting into with my future and this DEA shit, and I knew it could hurt you—and I couldn’t set you up for that. It fucking hurt like hell to pretend things didn’t happen, to act like you weren’t the air I needed to breathe, but I played my part so that I wouldn’t hurt you.” Javier pauses to shake his head, looking at you as if the chaos of the storm isn’t happening around you—as if you’re the only person in the world. “It was the worst mistake of my entire life, bella, to lose you.”

You feel your chest welling up in emotion, your heart healing slowly yet steadily as you step even closer to Javier. “Why didn’t you just tell me, cariño?” you ask softly.

“Because I was afraid of hurting you more,” Javier explains. “When you told me those things in the car, I realized just how much pain I’ve caused you, and I couldn’t bear to fuck you up more than I already have. So, I tried to avoid it and push you further away from me so that you wouldn’t get more hurt.”

You shake your head, wrapping Javier’s jacket even tighter around you as you look into his eyes with all the feelings you can muster. “Javi, no matter how much you’ve hurt me, I’ve never been able to get you out of my fucking mind or heart. And knowing now that you were trying to think of me, to protect me… it changes everything.” You pause, tilting your head slightly as you continue looking at him. “We’ve been through a lot of shit in these past twenty years, and we’ve put each other through even more—but if we can both agree upon that one thing, then I’m sure we can work through it.”

Javier raises his brow at you, a hopeful twinkle entering his gaze. “One thing?”

You blink up a few times, looking at him between your rain-coated lashes. “Do you still love me, cariño?”

Javier freezes for a moment, as if he’s taken aback by your question. His dark eyes search yours, and you feel as if you can’t breathe until he finally speaks again. “Yes.” His answer is strangled, as if he wants to say it but is scared to. “Fuck. Yes, I love you, bella—too damn much for my own good.”

Your heart’s practically flying now at his confession, and you try to bite back a smile as you never break your gaze with him. “Then prove it.”

Javier raises an eyebrow in confusion for a moment, but then realizes what you mean. He doesn’t hesitate further as his hands meet the sides of your slickened face and pull it desperately towards his own. Before you can process it, his mouth’s on yours—and instantly, you feel every vein of your heart return to their rightful places at the ethereal feeling of his affection. His lips move with yours in the perfect pattern they had all those years ago, and he removes one hand to instead wrap around your waist and pull you against him. Your hands meet the nape of his neck and thread through the dampened strands of his hair, absorbing the closeness and the feeling of his intimacy. When he dances his tongue along yours, you feel as if you’re ascending to a place you thought was out of reach, choosing to completely forget the world around you as you overwhelm yourself with the raw feeling of him. Eventually, he pulls away to allow you both to breathe, his forehead resting against yours as his dark gaze glitters. He waits until he catches his breath, and then releases the plea that almost brings you to your knees. “Please tell me you still love me, bella.”

You smile up at him. “I do, cariño,” you assure him, leaving a kiss on the tip of his nose for further confirmation. “I’ve always loved you.”

The way Javier smiles back down at you is entirely reminiscent of his look that night you danced together underneath the gymnasium’s lights, when you both felt nothing but pure love and happiness for the affection you got to share. You want to weep in relief at the knowledge of your second chance finally arriving—at Javier’s words from that night actually coming true—yet you keep it contained.

But you’re suddenly aware of the world around you once again, and you watch as the raindrops dance over Javier’s skin in a beautiful yet dangerous manner. “We need to get out of this storm before we both end up sick, Javi,” you inform him with a giggle. “Meet me back at my apartment, and we’ll talk through this some more. ¿Sí?”

Javier gives you a nod, the smile still haunting his lips as he starts to step away from you. You can tell he’s regretful to let you out of his arms, but his knowledge of being able to have you close again so soon convinces him to hurry away to his car. You do the same, unable to believe that the past few minutes of your life have been real as you start to make your way back to the apartment building.

You’ve barely made it inside your apartment when you hear Javier knocking. You shake your head as you bite back your smile, opening the door back up to see him standing there in his soaked clothes. He’s holding a change of clothes in his arms, as if he couldn’t wait to change into them before getting back to you. You step aside to let him in, closing the door behind him as you face him again. He looks at you earnestly, as if he’s waiting for you to command him around. You let out a giggle as you step closer to him.

“You look so ready to listen, cariño,” you inform him, watching as he chuckles lightly in response.

“I’ll do whatever you say, bella,” Javier assures you. “God knows I fucked up when I tried to get myself through this process.”

You shake your head, giving his cheek an affectionate caress as you swipe your thumb over the skin there. “Now you know,” you remind him, seeing him nod as he leans into your touch. Your heart melts all over again, and you’re regretful to drop your hand as you sigh. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We need to warm up and we need to leave all that shit behind us—so we’re going to wash ourselves clean: metaphorically and physically.”

Javier nods, his gaze sparkling as he looks at you. “You have no idea how nice that all sounds right now,” he mumbles, letting you lead the way down the hall and into your bedroom. Javier leaves his dry clothes on the top of your bed as he continues to follow you into your bathroom, watching as you close the door gingerly behind you. When you face him again, you see concern written on his expression, and you silently urge him to speak his mind. “Are you sure you’re alright to do this, bella? I mean, with what happened earlier tonight—.”

You shake your head and place a hand on his chest to stop him. “I trust you, Javi,” you assure him in a soft voice. “There’s a reason why I saved myself for you all those years ago. It still stands—I still feel safe with you. It’s perfectly alright.”

Javier nods, his gaze flooding with relief as he swallows hard. You step away from him to start stripping down, hanging his jacket on a nearby empty hook as you let the rest pile up carelessly somewhere on the floor beneath it. Javier does the same, and you’re surprised at the way you feel so comfortable with the vulnerability you’re now sharing with each other. It’s not like you haven’t shared this type of intimacy before—but you’re amazed that the feeling of comfort hasn’t diminished even after all these years. Your face warms up at the way Javier’s absolutely admiring your body, staring at it as if he’s making sure you’re even real. “I didn’t know it was possible for you to get even more beautiful, bella,” Javier says breathlessly, and you look down shyly as you start to step inside the clear-glass shower.

The feeling of the hot water bathing over you instantly resolves the chill you’d felt from the Colombian rainfall, already beginning to wash away the pain you’d experienced at the beginning of the night. After a long moment, you step aside and invite Javier to stand under the steady stream, reaching for the shampoo as you collect it in your hands and reach up for his hair. Javier’s eyes fall closed at the feeling of your fingers gently working themselves through each and every strand, his hands falling delicately onto your waist as he lets you get as close as you need to. While you work, your lips fall close to his ear, beginning to fill him with sweet truths.

“You’re not who you think you are,” you whisper, trailing the tips of your fingers down to the nape of his neck and working them back up through his hair. “You’re a man of good intent, a man who cares so much for the people around him that he’s willing to make himself suffer as much as he needs to. You’re selfless, so damn selfless.” You pause, hearing the emotion welling up in his chest and wanting to give him a moment to breathe. Your hands continue to work through his hair, soon allowing the water back in as you rinse the shampoo away. “You’re incredibly handsome, and charming—and witty. You’re the person who always knows how to liven up the room.”

You pull your hands away to reach for the soap, seeing Javier’s eyes reopen—brimming with tears. You stop to give his cheek a quick caress, hoping to comfort him before you continue cleansing him.

“You’re not your mistakes,” you go on, beginning to tend to his body as you spread the soap around gingerly. “You’re a man capable of growth, a man who wants to grow—who’s always wanted to do good in this world.” You stop after you’ve properly lathered him up, letting the water wash him clean as you press your nose affectionately against his. “You’re more than deserving of my love, cariño.”

Javier starts to smile at you, and you can practically feel your heart bursting as his hands run delicately over your waist. He then turns you around so that you’re now in his place, and he begins to run the same routine you did. Javier’s hands start to run the shampoo through your hair, and you close your eyes at the pleasurable feeling of his hands working delicately through your tresses. “You are valued,” Javier assures you in a low murmur, presenting a vulnerability in his words that you only last heard the night that changed everything. “You are a woman of such strength—which I’ve always admired. You don’t shy away from anything.” You can feel your own emotion building up at his words, and as he begins to rinse your hair, he leaves a gentle kiss on your forehead. “You’re beautiful—God, you’re so beautiful, and you’re so passionate in everything you do.”

Javier pauses to reach for the soap, and he stops himself just before he begins to use it on you. You can see the hesitance still in his eyes, as if he’s asking once again to make sure it’s okay, and you give him a nod to push him forward. He begins to let the soap touch your skin, his actions so delicate that you can barely feel them at all.

“You’re not the things I made you feel you were,” Javier continues saying, his voice sounding strained. “You’re not the darkness that defines your past. You’re a light to the world, to my life. You—You’re—” Javier has to pause again as he finishes with the soap and lets your body rinse underneath the water, his gaze tearing up even more than before as he looks down at you in disbelief, “—you’re everything to me, mi amor.”

Feeling yourself coming to the same place of emotion, you wrap your arms around his waist and press your cheek against his chest, closing your eyes as a few warm tears escape your eyes. Javier pulls you just as close as his face hides itself in your hair, the rise and fall of his chest indicating that he’s feeling the same emotions as yourself. You both stand there in sweet silence for a few moments, letting yourselves fall back into what you used to be before you’d let life be so cruel to you.

“I’m so sorry, bella,” Javier’s breaking voice finally says, the sound muffled slightly by your hair. “I’m so fucking sorry for all of it. All I’ve ever wanted was you—I swear.”

You press a kiss against his chest before speaking back. “I’m sorry too, cariño. I’ve missed you so much… I’ve only ever thought of you.” You pull him closer upon confessing that.

Javier lifts his head from your hair and lets one hand cup the side of your face, leaning your face up to look at his. His dark gaze imbeds itself in yours as he addresses your seriously. “Te amo con todo mi ser, mi amor. Te lo juro.”

You brush your nose and lips against his. “Te amo más que a la vida, cariño. The past doesn’t define us anymore.”

Javier starts to smile at that but stops himself as he lets his lips meet yours again. The kiss is passionate and sparks a feeling inside you like no other, but he keeps it slow, as if to prevent overwhelming you. You’re convinced there’s no greater sensation than his mouth against yours, feeling as natural to you as the act of breathing. You can nearly feel yourselves become one again—in the same way you’d felt the night that started it all. Javier continues to hold you close, reminiscing in the way you’re sharing the same space and air once again, and pulls his mouth away from yours before either one of you have the chance to deepen it. He rests his forehead against yours, looking into your eyes with certainty.

“I’m going to take things nice and slow with you, bella,” Javier assures you. “Things will only happen as you’re ready for them. I’m not going to let you feel as if I’m taking advantage of you again. I want to relish in this feeling of having you for certain—and I’m sure as hell not going to risk losing you again.”

You feel your heart flutter at his pure care as you nod understandingly. “That sounds perfect, Javier.” You rest your head against his chest, closing your eyes as you continue absorbing the moment. Your smile grows upon remembering the last time you were in such a position, and you can’t help voicing it to Javier. “You were right, you know. About us.”

Javier runs his hand over your back soothingly. “How so, hermosa?”

Your cheeks heat up at his endearment, but you manage to collect yourself and continue your thoughts. “About life making us collide back together. Who would’ve thought it would be at the DEA in fucking Colombia?”

Javier laughs, and he gives your head a kiss as he pulls you closer. “I would’ve given anything to have you back in my arms, bella.”

You bite back another smile as you continue to rest against him, feeling completely at peace for the first time in a long time—and you absorb that feeling, since you know it’s bound to disappear from you sooner than you’d like it to.

chapter 7

translations:

Buenas noches, señorita = Good evening, miss

¿Por qué tan solita, guapa? = Why so lonely, beautiful?

Tu dime, ¿En dónde has estado? = You tell me, where have you been?

Ay, lo entiendo, guapa. = Ah, I understand, beautiful.

Eres muy sensual, bonita = You’re very sensual, beautiful

Especialmente para una gringa. = Especially for a gringa.

Ahora, ¿qué está haciendo una gringa completamente sola en un club, bailando con un hombre que tiene información sobre Escobar? = Now, what is a gringa doing all alone in a club, dancing with a man who has information about Escobar?

No tengo idea de que estas hablando, guapo. Yo solo quiero—. = I have no idea what you’re talking about, handsome. I just want—.

¿Pór qué no hablamos en un lugar más privado—donde nadie pueda oírte gritar? = Why don’t we talk somewhere more private—where no one can hear you scream?

Conozco la diferencia entre mis putas y las ratas de la DEA = I know the difference between my whores and the DEA rats

Estás cometiendo un gran error = You’re making a big mistake

Podrías conseguir una generosa recompense si me dices todo lo que sabes = You could get a generous reward if you tell me everything you know

No quiero tu dinero, bonita. Solo quiero el placer de ver como te retuerces mientras te tomo. = I don’t want your money, beautiful. I just want the pleasure of seeing how you twist/wring while I take you.

No te preocupes, bonita, no voy a matarte. Sólo te haré desear estar muerta. = Don’t worry, beautiful, I’m not going to kill you. I’m only going to make you wish you were dead.

¡Suéltala! = Let go of her!

Le tienes que enseñar a tus nuevas ratas cómo disfrazarse bien, hijo de puta. = You have to teach your new rats how to disguise themselves, motherfucker.

Cállate, pedazo mierda = Shut up, piece of shit

Eres un maldito mentiroso que usa el nombre de Escobar para salirte con la tuya. No puedes hacer comentarios acerca de nuestras tácticas. = You’re a fucking liar who uses Escobar’s name to get off. You can’t comment on our tactics.

Es cierto = It’s true

Cógetela bien por mi, ¿bien? = Fuck her good for me, alright?

Come mierda = Eat shit

Te amo con todo mi ser, mi amor. Te lo juro. = I love you with everything I am, my love. I swear to you.

Te amo más que la a vida, cariño. = I love you more than life, sweetheart.

tags: @tarrevizslas @none-of-your-bullshit @lavenderl3mons @gooddaykate @flower-petal-blooming @stilllivindue2spite @mrsparknuts @fionnthebandersnacc @pisss-offf-ghostt @gaydreamland @longitud-de-onda @literallytrashhhhhh @kkgraham @arrowswithwifi @rage-isaquietthing @awesomefandomsunited @theforceofdarkandlight @murdermewithbooks @blushingwueen @rachelloveseveryone @madadlorian @ah-callie @mrsdaamneron @lokiaddicted @arcadianempress @benakenalove @wickedfrsgrl @pascalisperfect @absurdthirst @weirdowithnobeardo @lcandothisallday @sailorflowermoon @engineeredfiction @souls-rain @kaylaylaylayla @cailoleaf @unintentionalwriter @earthtokace @starwarsiscooliguess @xxlovingfandomsxx @theindiealto @mikahid @hiscyarika @burningsoulbloodyheart @youhavereachedtheendofpie @synystersilenceinblacknwhite

#i'm in shambles #i mean it this time #i really can't i #??!?!!#javier peña #javier pena #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javier peña fic #javier pena fic #narcos #narcos fic #collide fic #dindjarindiaries

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