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arroelin · 3 years

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— how they invite you to their game

characters: kenma kozume, kageyama tobio, kuroo tetsurou, oikawa tooru, tendou satori

genre: fluff

wc: 900+

KENMA wanted you to attend one of his volleyball games but he definitely didn’t want to be the one to bring it up. it took a lot of convincing (from kuroo) for him to be here- basically sulking in front of your classroom. when you left the class, you didn’t expect to see kenma leaning awkwardly against the wall. “hi kenma-kun!” he gives you a small nod, twisting his hands together nervously. “would you want to come watch my game this weekend?” he asks softly. seeing your empty expression, he mutters, “it’s not too interesting, but it’s kinda fun to watch.” you were stunned. kenma has never invited you to any of his games before. at your silence, kenma looks down, letting his hair cover his face. “you don’t have to come if you don’t want-” “i would love to go!” you exclaim excitedly, interrupting him. “really?” “yeah, i’ve always wanted to watch you play.” kenma feels his face heat up as a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “i’ll see you there, then.”

KAGEYAMA has been trying to ‘ask’ you to come to one of his volleyball games for so long. he knew you had a busy schedule and he didn’t want to seem like he was forcing you to do anything, but he didn’t understand why you never asked to attend one of his games when he was always so obviously carrying a volleyball in his hands whenever he passed you in the hallways. a big game was coming up, so he finally musters up the courage to approach you. “y/n-” “hi kageyama-kun...” your words trail off as you notice his serious expression. “p-lease come to my volleyball game this saturday!!” he stutters, bowing deeply. your eyes widen at the unexpected invitation and you fumble over an answer. “o-oh, I would love to go.” kageyama lets out a sigh of relief but keeps his head down so you couldn’t see the blush tinting his cheeks. “hey, kagayema-kun-” he raises his head to face you. “i’ll be watching, so give it your best!” you smile brightly and he knows he can’t hide the redness on his face.

you were helping KUROO clean up the classroom after school. he was in charge of sweeping the floor and you were in charge of wiping off the desks. you didn’t know how it happened, but one second kuroo was sweeping the corner of the classroom, and the next, he was leaning casually on the desk you had been cleaning, his broom propped up beside him. you narrow your eyes at him, motioning for him to get off the table. he doesn’t budge- instead, he looks at you. “are you busy this saturday?” “u-uh, I don’t think so,” you stammer, taken aback by the unexpected question. “how about coming to watch the volleyball game?” he asks casually. “volleyball?” “i’ll be playing.” “i would, but i don’t know anything about volleyball,” you admit sheepishly. kuroo smirks at your answer and leans closer to you. “i can teach you. how about tomorrow after school?”

OIKAWA was used to a lot of people attending his games, but the person he wanted most to watch him play, was you. he didn’t want to ask you because he had to ‘play it cool’, so he did the best he could. “y/n-chan!! i heard about this really big game coming up.” he exclaims- as casually as he could. “game?” “everyone is coming to watch!” “video game?” you ask, scrunching your eyebrows in confusion. “no-” he laughs awkwardly, “volleyball.” “uh...” “it’s supposed to be really exciting,” he adds with a convincing wink. you chuckle sheepishly, trying to think of a good way to reject his offer, but your thoughts were interrupted. “you know this idiot is just asking you to his game because he likes you, right?” iwaizumi comes up beside oikawa, lifting an eyebrow at you. before you could stutter out a reply, oikawa started complaining to iwaizumi- whining how ‘everything was going fine before he came along.’ “hey, oikawa-kun,” you interrupt, and he slowly turns to face you. you meet his gaze with your own wink, “maybe if you invite me properly, i’ll say yes.”

TENDOU is a spontaneous guy, and ever since you had marveled at him for being on the renowned shiratorizawa volleyball team, he knew he had to get you to attend one of his games. “hey y/n, i’ve got something cool for you to see.” he hollers, jogging up to you. you expected him to hold out the newest shonen jump, but he grabs your hand and runs, dragging you behind him- ignoring your yelp of surprise. he reaches the volleyball gym and holds out his arms. “ta da!” he exclaims excitedly. peeking inside, you notice the swarm of colours scurrying around- it was a practice game. you turn to tendou with a worried look. “tendou-kun, i don’t think I can be here.” “huh? of course you can.” “but there’s no one else here watching the game.” tendou taps his chin- pretending to think. “well, you’re my special guest,” he says smugly. you chuckle, shaking your head slightly. “what are they doing here?” ushijima comes up behind you, and you flinch at his deep voice. tendou throws you a reassuring smile before leading his friend away. “don’t worry about it, buddy,” he hums to the stone-faced captain. “just don’t take all the spotlight this time.”

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bloodcoveredwithwalls · 3 years

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Content

Tags: Soft, soft, fluff, INSIDE era, gender neutral (any can read)!

Word Count: 2.7k

You walk out of the kitchen with a glass of coffee. A spoon of sugar and enough milk. Just the way Bo likes it. Today though, he wanted it made for the evening, instead of his usual morning routine.

“Bo! Your coffee’s ready!” You scream up through the stairway.

“Coming!”

Running down the stairs was Bo, with a stack of clothes, some his, some yours. You recognize one of your favorite clothing on the pile in his hands.

“Excuse you, is that my flannel?” You ask, tugging on the cloth.

“Excuse me, and yes. Yes it is, honey.” He answers with his eyebrows raised and an awkward smile.

“Aaand, what is it for?”

“That, I may not be able to tell you now. But, come with me to the guesthouse today, will you? I’ll give you a sneak peak.” He says, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. No struggle of course, he was way taller than you.

You nodded, “Okie. Very exciting.” noticing your wool beanie in between the stack.

Bo’s been working on a new project. For at least a year now, he’s been planning on everything. The songs that’ll be in it, how it’ll be played out. Your living room, bedroom and even the kitchen has Bo’s notes and his notebooks scattered around. You’ve promised him long ago that you wouldn’t open or look into any of them. Of course, you didn’t, respecting and giving him his privacy.

He stays in the guesthouse for hours a day. From morning to night, some days he would even sleep in the guesthouse. You’ve never been in there since he first went in to start his project. Never stepped close at all. Sometimes though, whenever you lay in bed at night, you swore you could hear him slamming the keys of his keyboard from afar, or maybe even him yelling at things.

You know he struggles with his own content. You’ve been through this quite often. He would sometimes come back to the house frustrated, unable to create something that he would like. Some days, he would come back crying, walking straight into your open arms and sobbing into your shoulder. And although you’ve offered to help, he shrugged it off and reassured you that he wants to try his best and work on it alone.

“You need anything else?” You asked as you follow behind him.

“At the moment, no. Oh, wait actually yes. You know my favorite pair of socks?”

“The one with the yellow bit at the end?”

“That’s the one. Thank you Y/N, honey.”

You place the coffee mug on the kitchen table and walked to your front door, where right next to it, is a little cabinet. You pull the top drawer open and looked for the socks, pulling pair after pair, until you found them.

“Found them!” You happily beamed. But as you look back to where Bo was last, he wasn’t there. You saw the sliding door leading to the backyard open , the gentle breeze greeting the kitchen and living room.

You closed the drawer and briskly walked to the kitchen to grab Bo’s coffee mug before stepping out through the door. You tiptoe through the cold grass, quickly making your way to the guesthouse.

Just as you were about to step into the room, Bo came out, quickly closing the door and stopping you in your tracks. He spread his arms out to cover the door. You looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“Okay. Just a fair warning before you go in. There’s a lot of random shit scattered around literally everywhere. So, don’t be too surprised. Or worried.” He smiles.

“Got it. Oh, and here are the socks. And coffee.” You throw back a smile at him. Managing a thumbs up with the pair of socks in your grip.

“Perfect. Thank you so much.”

He turns around and slowly pushing the door handle down his his left elbow, turning his head slightly to you with a shy smile on his face as you both enter into the guesthouse.

The lights were off, the room only illuminated by the sun peaking through the blinds. As you look around, you realize he wasn’t kidding at all. The floor was covered in different wires coming out from different directions. A camera on a tripod was set in the middle of the room, facing towards where you first entered. One of his keyboards was placed on its stand near the camera to a certain angle, while the other that Bo owns was on the floor, awkwardly propped up against the wall.

The desk and cabinet had different books and pieces of paper scattered on top, camera

“Alright, if you don’t mind, the sofa we have is where you can sit on for now. I know the room’s an absolute mess right now.”

He puts his hand out for you, and you grab onto him, slowly making your way to the sofa in the corner of the room with your eyes to the floor, making sure you aren’t stepping on any of the cables.

Bo sat down on the sofa, and pats on the empty space next to him, signaling you to sit. As you did so, you couldn’t leave your eyes off every corner of the room.

“So, this is it so far.” He sighed.

“I don’t even know what most of all the stuff on the floor is for.” You said, waving your hands from the left to the right, framing what you’re seeing.

“Here, let me show you.” He stands up, walking towards on of the devices on the floor. As he stepped on one of the buttons on it, a bright purple light projected from a panel near you and onto the right side of the wall.

He stepped on a different button, and this time the light projected to another direction from a different panel.

“Woah…” You muttered.

“Pretty cool right?”

“Very cool…” You said with your lips parted in awe.

He takes a sip of the warm coffee. “And, tonight, I want you to be here as I record my very first step to my project.”

God, his smile could sweep you off your feet every, single, time. You were so proud of him, so happy to see him step out of his nest and finally work on something once again.

You frantically nodded, not able to contain your excitement.

He took a sip of his coffee, “But. We might have to wait a bit, because I’ve gotta record this first bit in complete darkness.”

“You sure you want me to stay? I mean, I can wait back in the house.”

He placed his mug on the desk beside him and walked towards you. He reached his hand out and you placed yours in his.

“I haven’t been at home much for some time now. I only ever come back to sleep or to have dinner with you. And you’ve been the only person there for me throughout my process of making this.”

His blue eyes stay on yours. His voice is soft, very gentle, making sure you’re getting what he’s trying to say.

“And Y/N, it’s only fair that you get to be a part of it.”

Once again that smile of his is back. You can’t help but to jump up from your seat and hug him, landing your head on his chest. He froze for a second, hands spread apart with you in between. But in a second, he enveloped you in his warm embrace.

“I am so, so, so proud of you.” You said to him in a muffled voice, “I really am.”

He slowly releases you, and holds you by your shoulders. You notice he was a little teary eyed, his face softening from usual. You place a hand on his cheek and he rests on your hand, soon his left hand follows and holds your hand against his cheek.

“Let’s get ready shall we? I’ll help out with anything you need.” You said to him.

For the next two hours, you helped Bo get ready to record. He vaguely tells you what goes where, and you follow as instructed, moving his cameras around, testing it to see if it’s the way he wants it. Lights were moved around to different areas of the room, testing the way it shines onto him from different angles. You listened and watched as he tests his mic, adjusting how loud the audio output was gonna be, making different tracks to separate the instrumental track from his vocals. This was all a fascinating process for you.

Occasionally, you would have to leave the guesthouse to wait outside as Bo tests something out. He’d told you prior to getting ready that he wanted a few things to be a surprise to you when he starts recording. You were a sucker for his surprises. Anything that Bo’s ever made is a masterpiece to you, so, you’d be happy to wait outside to see what he’s done eventually.

It wasn’t long that you had to wait outside until finally, he opens the door to the guesthouse and tells you to come in. Even then, he covers your eyes to avoid you from looking around too much and spoiling the fun. He guides you back to the sofa, and after you’ve settled on your seat, he tells you to close your eyes.

“Keep them closed! No peeking!”

You hear his voice moving further away from you as he said so. Your curiosity grew, wanting to know where he’s going and what he was up to now.

“Okay, okay! Promise they’re closed!”

You covered your eyes with both hands, unable to hide your smile. You’ve never felt this excited for anything ever since the pandemic started.

“Okay, once I tell you to have them opened, I’ll have started recording by then. So, try your best to be as silent as possible.”

“Got it.” You manage a thumbs up with one hand, while the other now covers both your eyes.

You hear him shuffle around the room, a little “ow” coming out from him as he slaps something on. You didn’t recognize what it was. Then, you heard what you thought was the light switch being flicked. After hearing him shuffle around a for a bit more, he finally tells you to open your eyes from a distance.

“Okay, you can open them now, honey.”

You put your hands down and slowly opened your eyes, blinking a couple of times to adjust to the suddenly dark room. Bo was sat on the chair you both set up, with the light shining to his right side. You guessed what he slapped on was the headlamp stretched around his head. You had a million ideas of what it might be for, but knowing Bo, it’s probably an idea you wouldn’t have thought of.

You pressed your bottom and top lip together and did a zipping motion from the left to the right. He smiled, holding his laugh in as to not mess up the shot. You shoot him a thumbs up and he returned it by blowing you kiss.

And he started. He pressed a few buttons on the keyboard of his laptop then sat back against his chair, relaxed and a little slouched. A catchy beat came from the speaker you helped him set up. Soon after, a few synths came in, making a tune. You sat, frozen to the sofa, only able to take in what's happening in front of you.

Bo was looking away from the camera before he slowly starts lifting the mic closer to his mouth, before starting to sing on cue.

“If you’d have told me, a year ago that I’d be locked inside of my home.” In between, a pre recorded audio of him singing came up before he continued singing live again.

“I would’ve told you, a year ago, “Interesting, now leave me alone.””

You were in awe. You love his deep voice. Finally hearing him sing to these new lyrics that he’d wrote over the past year felt so surreal. You smiled seeing how Bo bounces his leg to the beat of the song.

“Robert’s been a little depressed. No~”

You felt your heart sank at the line, but you kept your cool, not wanting to distract him. Although you were quickly able to calm down a little after hearing the bridge of the song come up. You couldn’t lie, it’s a catchy song.

Once you heard the build up to the chorus, you saw Bo reach his hand up to press a button on his headlamp.

“I’m sorry I was gone, but look I made you some content.”

Bo looked up and so did you, and your jaw dropped as the disco ball hung on the ceiling appeared to be spinning around, reflecting the light shining from his headlamp. The disco ball projected all the lights against the walls of the room, making it look so bright and interactive. You looked around the walls, seeing the lights dance on every single item in the room. You couldn’t hide the smile growing on your face, forgetting if Bo might get distracted by you.

“Daddy made you your favorite, open wide.”

You snap your gaze back at Bo after hearing that, loving how he added in that line to the song. He was concentrated as ever, maintaining a leveled eye contact to one point as not to move the light shining on the disco ball. He continues on, and you stare at him, smiling as you enjoyed the catchy tune.

“It’s a beautiful day to stay inside.”

He lowers the mic with the last line, and looks down into the camera, shining it with the headlamp. You squint your eyes, to try and look at him. The room went dark as he turns his headlamp off, leaving the room pitch black. He walked over to the light switch and flicked it on.

He catches your eyes, smiling wide at you.

You stand from the sofa, making happy little hops towards him.

“How did I not see the disco ball?” You ask in complete awe.

“That’s a bit of Bo’s magic.” He jokes, grinning at you as he takes of his headlamp, throwing it to the chair.

You hug him again, tight and proud. Happy that you were able to linger in the guesthouse and watch him take his first step into the project.

“So. What do you think?” He said, throwing a glance around the room then to you.

You cling on to him, a hand around his waist while you lean on his side.

“Absolutely incredible. Loved the song, loved the lighting, and definitely loved seeing you sing.”

“I need you to know this song’s for you. You’re the reason I’m able to start making content again. So, thank you so much.”

You place other hand on his chest, still leaning onto him.

“Thank you for starting again.”

He reached around for your hand, holding both of them in his before leaning down to kiss you. So gentle, so loving. He places his hand on your cheek, letting his fingers fall to your jaw and neck, the perfect fit. He pulls away, giving you one last quick peck on the lips.

You sigh happily.

“Well, we can leave everything here for now. Give me a sec, I’ll just quickly turn everything off.”

You watch as he leaps to his laptop, then to his speaker, making sure everything’s been saved and turned off properly.

“Alright. All good.”

“Pasta for dinner?” You ask him, intertwining your hands with his.

“Anything you make, really.” Nodding in approval.

You both step out of the guesthouse, knowing that for a few months or maybe more, you won’t be able to see him in there anymore. Before he closes the door, you take a last look at the slowly spinning disco ball. You were left to imagine what’s Bo going to create next. Only surprises.

You walked back to the house hand in hand, watching Bruce wait in front of the sliding door.

“Anyways, Daddy huh?” You teased him.

“Oh hush, I know you love it.” He laughed, patting the top of your head.

Boy, was this fun to write. Thank you so much to @pharlapcartoonist for the request and idea behind this, I hope you liked it! I’m open to more requests! Hope everyone has a great day! Please stay happy and stay safe. <3

#bo burhnam #bo burnam inside #bo burnham fanfic #bo burnham fluff #bo burnham x reader #bo burnham x y/n

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snelbz · 3 years

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Tempting the Fates {Chapter 1}

Summary: It’s the final semester of Aelin Galathynius’ collegiate career and she is so beyond ready to be done. Her schedule is packed full of nursing classes and labs designed to test her knowledge and hone her skills for the real world and her “big girl” job. However, she needs one last elective to graduate, so she decides to study a subject she’s always been fascinated by: Mythology. Who would have thought that a class about gods and goddesses living complicated lives would end up complicating her own in such an unexpected way?

A/N: Fun fact about this one, y’all. I wrote the first chapter over 3 years ago and it was for a completely different story. This one has evolved on it's own and Tara and I are so excited to finally share it with you.

Word Count: 3493

Chapters will be posted every Wednesday.

Tempting the Fates Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Zeus

– King of the gods and ruler of Mount Olympus; god of the sky, lightning, thunder and law.

The waves lapped against the sand as Aelin sighed. Strong hands rubbed the muscles in her back and worked out the kinks in her neck as the warm sun heated her body. The smell of the salt water filled her senses and she settled into the cushioned chaise. Another set of hands set a fruity looking drink with a little pink umbrella on the table next to her head. She smiled at it.

“Can we get you anything else, miss?”

Aelin opened her mouth to tell them exactly what they could do to her.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Aelin’s eyes snapped open and she glared at her phone, chiming at her to get up.

She groaned, reaching for the offending device and silenced it, pulling her pillow over her head. She began to doze back off when her bedroom door flew open, smacking into the dresser on the wall behind it. She sat bolt upright and found her roommate leaning against the doorframe, a bowl of cereal in her hands and a gleam of mischief in her emerald eyes.

“Rise and shine, princess,” Lysandra drawled. Aelin just continued to scowl at her roommate. The bright warmth of the sun in her dream faded away as she looked out the window. Ice coated it and she could see a fresh layer of snow coated everything. “Aedion is about to be up, too. If you’d like any chance of taking a warm shower before class today, I’d suggest-.”

She was up and in the hallway before Lysandra could even finish her sentence.

Thirty minutes later, she sat on the kitchen counter, hair wrapped up in a towel, eating an apple and going over her schedule for the thousandth time. Her four classes were split into two days each, mercifully giving her Friday off.

Her cousin, long golden hair tied into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, came into the kitchen, pulling the jug of milk out of the fridge. He leaned on the counter across from her and drank straight from the plastic bottle, glaring daggers at her.

“Can I help you with something,” she asked him sweetly.

“You used the last of the hot water,” Aedion sulked, taking another swig.

She looked over, blowing him a quick kiss. “Maybe you should have gotten up earlier.”

He rolled his eyes, identical to her own, and came over to look at her computer screen. “What classes do you have this semester?”

She scrolled down the list, reading them off. “Pathophysiology, Caring for the Childbearing Family, Health and Gerontology, a few labs, and Mythology.”

Aedion’s eyebrows pulled together as she read the last one. “That doesn’t seem like it will be very helpful to a nurse.”

She shrugged, closing the laptop and sliding off the counter. “I needed one last elective. I’ve always been interested in Greek and Roman mythology and it’s a freshman level class. I figured why not study something for fun for once?”

He couldn’t fault her logic and began pulling ingredients out of the fridge to cook breakfast as Aelin headed back towards her bedroom. “Whatever you’re cooking, make two,” she called over her shoulder. She didn’t even need to look back to know the obscene gesture being flicked in her direction.

-------------------

Aelin was regretting studying something fun for once as she looked at the map of her classes.

All of her classes, save for one, were in the nursing building. Of course, that one other class was all the way across campus, in one of the general education buildings. At least walking there would take her right past her favorite coffee shop on campus and with an eight am every Tuesday and Thursday morning, she knew she’d take full advantage of that.

Thankfully today was a Monday, so she’d be spending the entirety of her day in the nursing building. But first, she had to have coffee. The first day of the semester required coffee.

Aelin parked in one of the student lots close to the nursing building. Throwing her leather bag over her shoulder, she slammed her car door. It was absolutely freezing and she suppressed a growl as she saw soft white flakes drifting toward the ground.

What a great way to start off the semester, she thought.

She made her way across campus, hands deep in her pockets and face buried in her scarf. As she crossed the quad, she pulled her phone out to check the time. She still had about twenty minutes to get coffee and get to class. Snow crunched under her boots as she picked up the pace, wanting to be sure she made it on time. Aelin was big on first impressions.

As she approached the door of the café, she reached for the handle, but the door swung open suddenly, slamming into her and knocking her off her feet.

The young girl, eyes wide, apologized profusely but said that she had to get to class and ran off. Aelin was mumbling something about where the freshman could go, when she heard a deep chuckle and a tan, tattooed hand appeared in front of her face. She glanced up and the air was pulled from her lungs.

The owner of the hand was a handsome man in his mid-twenties, with hair the color of the snow swirling around his head and green eyes. Not emerald like Lysandra’s, but deep and rich like a pine tree. A tattoo, similar to the one on his hand, snaked up his neck and onto his face. She’d be willing to bet it ran down the whole length of his arm. She’d love to find out for herself. He smiled at her, a wicked, beautiful smile. She could only stare at the gorgeous stranger as she gripped her hand in his. He lifted her to her feet.

“You okay?” He asked. Aelin nodded, pulling her hand out of his. He opened the door and motioned for her to go ahead of him. She stepped into the delicious warmth and immediately got her wits back.

“I’m Aelin,” she said, giving him a man eater’s smile.

“Rowan,” he said, a slight incline of his head in acknowledgment.

“Thank you, Rowan,” she said, letting his name slip out of her lips like a purr, as she’d heard Lysandra do it to her cousin many times. She knew it drove Aedion crazy and for some reason, that’s exactly what she wanted to do to this man. She walked to the line. He got in line behind her and she pulled out her phone, figuring that would be that. A bit of shameless flirting with a stranger was never a bad thing. She ordered her coffee and was surprised when the barista handed her the paper cup, a phone number written on the side. She quirked an eyebrow at the girl, who gave Aelin a knowing glance and looked over her shoulder. Aelin turned around, meeting a pine green gaze, and smiled at him. She headed back out into the frost and snow, pulling her phone out to snap a picture of the cup to send to Lysandra, knowing her best friend would love this.

Finding the classroom in the nursing building where she’d spent the bulk of the past two years was a breeze and she made it into the classroom with seven minutes to spare. She enjoyed her time with Professor Hafiza in the fall and anticipated she’d like her this semester again, too. Nonetheless, she settled in about three-quarters of the way up and looked at the coffee cup again.

Feeling bold, she entered the number into her phone and sent a quick text.

Any chance you want to sweep me off of my feet again and grab drinks later? I’m free anytime after 5:00. – Aelin.

Her phone buzzed almost immediately.

My last class lets out at 6:00 and I have to go to the gym afterward. How does 8:00 sound?

She typed a quick reply and placed her phone back on her desk.

Sounds like a date. The Beer Cellar, on Church Street.

She smirked to herself and glanced down at her watch. 9:58. Not even 10:00 am and the semester was off to a great start.

She unlocked her phone, shooting a quick text to Lysandra, letting her know about her new plans for the evening when she heard the door open and students started to hush.

It wasn’t the most exciting class, Aelin had to admit, but she supposed the information was necessary. Hopefully it wasn’t an indication of how the rest of her semester would go. She needed a little excitement in her schedule, that was for sure.

Aelin liked to be kept on her toes.

After two classes and a crappy salad for lunch from the school cafeteria, Aelin was hurrying across campus and down the street, toward her apartment. Lysandra was nowhere to be found, which meant she was either snuggled up with Aedion somewhere or still in class. Aelin’s bet was on the former.

After organizing her deskspace, Aelin went to her closet, and attempted to pick out what she should wear for the night. It was her first date of the semester, which either meant that it could be a complete win or a complete fail.

She ultimately decided that the sluttier the better.

Laying the gold dress out on her bed, she let herself into the Lysandra’s room, borrowing a pair of strappy black heels she knew her roommate would absolutely approve of and was back out the door, ready to suffer through her first lab of the semester. Three hours was going to drag by, but thankfully, it was only once a week.

And drag by it did, but Aelin wasn’t sure if it was thanks to the monotonous recap of her previous semester’s information or thinking about seeing Rowan again. She usually wasn’t so forward, even though Rowan had clearly been the one to start it all, giving her his number. But still, she typically would have at least waited a day or two before texting him.

But there was just something about him that she couldn’t get out of her head.

She grabbed her gym bag out of the car, thankful she had a bit of time to get a work out in before she went out. Thanks to tonight, Aelin was a pent up ball of energy and needed to get it out someway. After a solid forty-five minutes on the treadmill and nearly thirty on the free weights, Aelin was heading for the locker room when she noticed a silver head of hair across the gym.

She watched him as he pulled himself up on the bar, his chin going over the piece of metal each time. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, sweat poured down his chest as his arms swelled. Aelin had been right.

That tattoo went across his chest, and all the way down his arm. He did the pull-ups so effortlessly, and Aelin’s mind began to wander to unholy places.

It wasn’t until his feet hit the mat beneath him that she was brought back to reality and hurried into the locker room. If he was here, that meant their date was approaching, and she had to get ready. She checked her phone. It was nearly seven.

Aelin hurried back home and showered. She had once vowed, during her freshman year, that she would avoid the gym showers at all costs and only used them under emergency circumstances. Luckily, her and Lysandra’s apartment was only five minutes from the gym.

After a shower and a full-body shaving session, Aelin was brushing out her long, golden hair and blow drying it until it was flowing freely down her back. She kept her makeup decently simple - at least, that’s how she made it look, and straightened the slight waves out of her hair before putting on her little, golden dress.

Once she had slipped on Lysandra’s heels, she was looking at herself in the mirror and even she had to admit that she was looking hot.

After grabbing her clutch, she hurried down the hallway and into the living room, where she found Lysandra and Aedion snuggled together on the couch, watching a movie.

“Going out with a stranger?” Lysandra asked, brow raised. “I'm so proud of you.”

“Yeah, just keep it in your pants,” Aedion mumbled.

“I thought I’d bring him back here,” she said, winking at Lysandra. “You don’t want to have breakfast together tomorrow?”

“Absolutely not,” Aedion mumbled and Lysandra chuckled, leaning into his embrace.

“Have fun, call me if you need me,” Lysandra called as Aelin blew them a kiss and headed for the door.

Her Uber was waiting when she walked out front and before she knew it, she was walking down the stairs into her favorite bar. Glancing around, she didn’t see Rowan sitting at the bar or any of the booths around the room.

So she bought herself a drink and claimed one of the pool tables, setting her coat and clutch on a bar stool nearby. Over halfway through the game, she felt eyes on her and glanced up to find Rowan standing at the other end of the table. Giving him a smirk, she knocked the cue ball into the yellow-striped 9 ball. It sank into the pocket.

“Playing with yourself?” Rowan asked, and Aelin caught a slight accent that she had missed earlier.

Aelin’s grin widened. “Well, if I’m left hanging, a girls gotta do what a girls gotta do.”

Rowan breathed a laugh. “Fair enough. And if I asked to join?”

“You sure you don’t just want to watch?” she asked, leaning on the table, making sure her cleavage was perfectly visible.

Rowan’s tongue shot out and subtly licked his bottom lip. “Tempting.”

Aelin pushed herself back and grabbed the rack, starting to collect the balls. “Buy me a drink and then we’ll talk.”

Rowan bit his lip to hide his spreading grin. “Fair enough. I’ll be back.”

Aelin watched as he left, watched as he went to the bar and bought her another drink, alongside one for himself. He came back with two glasses. One was the color of the sunrise, the other a caramelly brown.

“Sex on the Beach?” Aelin asked, brow raised.

He shrugged and handed her the glass. “Sounded promising.”

“So… Rowan,” she said, letting his name drag out as she said it. He was dressed in a pair of dark jeans and the black Henley he wore made his hair seem even brighter in the dim light of the bar.

“Aelin,” he purred right back, pulling a pool stick from the wall behind her, nearly boxing her in. She realized then how much larger than her he was.

She loved it.

“I hope your coffee helped you get through the rest of your day,” she said, resetting the game and racking the balls. She glanced at him over her shoulder as she reached into the middle of the table, and he was watching her, staring at her ass.

Slutty was definitely the right option tonight.

“It certainly did, especially considering how boring it was,” he replied, reaching around her for the chalk that rested on the edge of the table. “But when I got your text, it gave me something to look forward to. Even if it made the day last twice as long.”

“Happy I could help.” She picked her drink up and stirred it, before taking a long sip through the straw.

“Would you like to break, or should I?” He asked, nodding to the pool table.

“Let’s see what you can do.”

He grunted as he stepped forward, lined up his stick, and knocked the cue ball into the others. They broke apart, but none of them fell into the pockets. Rowan stood there for a moment, his lips pursed. Meanwhile, Aelin tossed her head back and burst into laughter.

“Alright, alright,” Rowan said, straightening up and turning to face her. “So pool isn’t my thing.”

Aelin stepped up next to him and aimed her stick, leaning over the table, her ass nearly rubbed up against Rowan’s front. “Hopefully you’re better at other things.”

Rowan’s hand brushed along Aelin’s hip, just as she got ready to shoot, causing her shot to go haywire. She spun around, eyes narrowed. “That’s foul play.”

“No one said we were playing fair,” he countered.

“What about playing for drinks?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

He lifted his own eyebrows and he said, “I’ve got an eight am…”

Shrugging, she said, “So do I.” Then she leaned in close, thankful for the three-inch heels she’d pilfered from Lysandra’s closet and breathed into his ear, “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re up in time.”

“So sure of how this night is going to go,” he said quietly, just loud enough for her to hear him, and she felt his hand skimming over the curve of her ass. “Fine. We’ll play for drinks.”

It turned out Rowan hadn’t been lying about pool not being his thing. They played three games back to back, and he lost them all, but every time he returned with a drink for Aelin, he had one for himself as well. By the time she dragged him towards the small dance floor in the center of the bar, they were both stumbling and his lips found her neck before his hands even gripped her hips.

His lips were soft, gentle, nothing like she had expected. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe he was just getting tired, perhaps he was usually rough.

But, when his hands found Aelin’s hips and he brought her back into him, she felt that roughness. It seemed Rowan was the best of both worlds. Gentle when prompted, rough beneath the surface.

Aelin turned to him and slung her arms around his neck, bringing his lips to hers. Their mouths crashed into one another, and their bodies slowed until it felt like they were the only two on the dancefloor.

Rowan pulled away, just a little bit, and breathed, his eyes wild, “Aelin-.”

“Take me to your place,” she said, her mouth finding his, once again.

Before she knew what was happening, they were in the backseat of an Uber, unable to keep their hands off of one another. Thanks to it being a college town, the driver didn’t say a word, just dropped them in front of an upscale building, just off the east side of campus.

She noticed how nice it was on the short elevator ride up, but was much more preoccupied by the way his hips pressed into hers. He dragged her along the hall, his lips never leaving hers, until her back was pressed against a cool door and he was fumbling to get it unlocked. It swung wide and she gripped his collar, pulling him inside.

Throwing her clutch and coat by the door, Aelin let her hands dive into his cropped silver hair and he responded by cupping her ass and lifting her up. Her legs were around his waist and he carried her through the apartment and into his bedroom. Neither of them had any delusions about how and where this would end and Aelin felt like she was going to combust as he dropped her on the bed and gazed down at her.

His eyes were full of lust, full of hunger, a wild animal with his eye on his prey. He wasted no time stripping Aelin down and admiring her body with his hands, his tongue, his lips. Rowan may not have been good at pool, but he was right when he said he was far better at other things.

He worshipped her, and Aelin knew it wasn’t the alcohol when she was sent into utter bliss.

When he rolled off of her, breath still uneven, Aelin watched as he dealt with the condom and fell back into the bed beside her.

She cleared her throat. “I can go…if you want me to.”

Rowan turned to look at her, and she could tell he was still just as drunk as she was. “What? No, of course not. You said you’ve got an eight am, too, right?” She nodded and he tugged on her hand, pulling her closer to him. They were both still gloriously naked and she could feel the heat radiating off of his body. “Then we can both make sure the other is up so we aren’t late. Or too hungover.”

Aelin snorted softly, resting her head on his chest. “I think that particular ship has sailed.”

“You’re probably right,” he mumbled and she could tell he was already starting to doze. She was on the brink of sleep herself.

Aelin decided then, as her eyes closed, that she didn’t care if she was hungover in the morning, or if she was late to her eight am. A night being praised by Rowan had been perfectly worth it.

#tempting the fates #snacmc ttf #snacmc collab #rowaelin ttf #throne of glass #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius

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bukojuiice · 3 years

Text

get you.

ೃ pairing: (husband! executive levi ackerman x wifey! reader)

ೃ warnings: nsfw (18+) - the rest of the tags are below the cut! c:

ೃ genre: smut

ೃ word count: 2,696 words

ೃ my nav → my college au! eren x fem! reader (fluff)

ೃ song inspo: get you by daniel caesar ft. kali uchis

ೃ please do reblog if you enjoyed!! it really helps writers and content creators on tumblr! (feel free to add tags too because i love reading them and my heart swells with happiness when people love my work!)

ೃ “visit your husband at work” day is an actual event that happens every 3rd Thursday of the month at the company Levi works in. however, after he’s become too focused on the workload for the day and you’ve grown impatient as he wasn’t paying attention to you at all, you had to find a way to grab his attention.

additional tags: fem dom! reader, slight bondage, sub! levi then a dramatic shift to dom! levi

hope you enjoy reading!

Today is the 3rd Thursday of the month.

Which meant “Visit your Husband at Work” Day.

No. Like, it was literally an actual holiday that existed in the company.

One of Levi’s fellow executives, Hange Zoe, created a whole-ass holiday just so to tease you and Levi.

Not that it was a problem though, it was always so fun to watch your husband work so sternly and seriously. Even if he ignored you most of the time, especially when you were being annoying and were asking too many questions.

This month’s iteration of the holiday though… left much to be desired.

Your ever so busy husband promised you a lunch date at one of the swankiest restaurants in the business district, however he was so swarmed with papers, business plans, and taking calls from important clients that could he not take 1 hour out of his day just to spend time with you and keep the spirit of this “holiday” alive?

It really doesn’t make any sense. He could relay the client calls to his secretary, Eren, for an hour and a half, then once he gets back, he could go through them and call them back again.

Was it that hard to do?

Despite your many pleas of asking him to just stop working for a few minutes and eat some take out McDonald’s chicken nuggets with you, he still refuses to do so. He even remarked about how unhealthy they were, but you corrected him by telling him that it was alright to eat from time to time at least.

The whole chicken nuggets exchange you had with him, put you into an even more sour mood.

Before he could even ask where you were about to go, you stormed out of his office, trying to get a reaction from him, so that he would try and make it up you. However, that did not happen and your romantic fantasy of Levi holding you by the wrist, whispering huskily into your ear, not wanting you to leave was not achieved.

So, you then head over to Hange’s office where they were eating lunch with their secretary, Moblit, and surprisingly, the company’s very own Erwin Smith, the CEO of Survey Corp. (get it? Because survey corps? Mwahahaah ok I’ll see myself out)

This got you even more confused, because why are both Hange and Erwin able to eat lunch so casually whilst your husband is so tense and stressed about all the paper works that he has to go through?

“AHH! Ms (Y/N)!” Hange beams at you as soon as they see you enter the room. “What brings you here? Does Levi not want to leave his office again?” They giggled. You greet the three of them back with a wave, but a sad smile present on your face. Erwin raises his eyebrow at you in worry.

“Ms (Y/N), is everything alright?” The blonde man asks worriedly, taking another sip of his afternoon tea. “Did you get into a fight with our most loved and hardworking executive?” He teases, trying to keep the atmosphere light and carefree.

“That’s the problem actually.” You laugh exasperatedly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “He promised me that we would go out for lunch, but he didn’t commit and told me he was caught up in a lot of business calls, and he didn’t want to miss any of them as they were very important.”

“Oh? He can just give them to Eren though. They aren’t extremely important calls. We’re not even trying to bag some huge business deal right now. I told Levi to loosen up a bit, but he continues to want to see through with everything.”

You breathe out an irritated sigh, crossing your arms in disappointment. “I’ll be going back to his office now. I’ll be talking to my husband about this and his workaholic tendencies.” You bite your lip, trying to muster a smile, waving goodbye and leaving as soon as you arrived.

“Aw. I wasn’t able to ask if she wanted some sashimi.” Hange pouts, holding a small paper bag that contained the premium dish. “Erwinnn should I go after her?”

“Nope. Don’t.” Erwin shakes his head, laughing, clearly in a very good mood.

“Huh!? Why can’t I-“

Erwin gives them a knowing look, raising his eyebrow suggestively as if referring to something.

“Ohhhh.”

You arrive back at Levi’s office, your arms crossed, waiting for the raven-haired man to greet you. The man you know and love so well, was still very much engrossed with the materials and blueprints he was reading.

He looks up at you then goes back to what he was doing.

You lock the door behind you and then proceed to sit at the long velvety couch situated in the middle of Levi’s huge ass office. Your arms remain crossed, so were your legs as you begin to read a random book laying on the coffee table.

Levi steals some quick glances at you from time to time and your petty self pretends that you don’t notice him doing so.

You hear him sigh and take off his black rimmed glasses that he only wears during work. He then rubs his temples and clear his throat, to try and get your attention.

“(Y/N) love, I know you’re disappointed over the fact I didn’t push through with our lunch plans. I know that you know how much I love you but this is a very important-“

You stand up from the couch and throw the book carelessly to the table. Approaching him with a rather alluring aura surrounding you, your husband giving you a puzzled look as you arrive in front of his table.

He stands up, thinking you were about to envelop him in a hug and accept his apology until…

You grip the lapels of his suit and yank Levi hard against you.

“Prove it.”

Your lips clash with his. Kissing him with every ounce of frustration and heat in your body. But even as Levi’s arms come around you, holding you flush against him, he suddenly pulls back with a questioning look on his face.

“(Y/N)…”

“Maybe you might be too busy for this too Mr. Ackerman.”

You push his jacket off his shoulders before your fingers slide along the back of his neck as you guide his wet, hungry mouth back to yours.

Levi spins you around, pushing your back against the cold glass of the windowpane, the beautiful city skyline as your backdrop whilst you make love? It was perfect.

He lifts your wrists up above your head, holding it there with one hand while the other explores your body, caressing the skin he could touch even though you were still fully clothed.

“Levi…”

You feel exposed in a way that makes your pulse race, the intensity and the heat between the two of you continue to escalate as his fingers find a strip of bare skin at your waist, then slide up beneath your clothes to trace the curve of your breast. He continues fondling it whilst his other hand slowly unbuttons your blouse, revealing the beauty that was your upper body. Levi takes in the view, breathing

You arch your back, pressing your body against him. His tongue continues to tangle with yours, and he moans into your mouth.

“Can you even get back to work after this?”

“It depends how much you can keep me busy.”

Levi picks you up easily in his arms. You lock your legs around his waist as he carries you across the office. He sweeps everything off his desk with a loud crash and lays you down.

Again, you were seeing a different version of him. Not only was it not typical of him to be careless and thrashing things around like this, but the way you can feel his heart beat and his emotions just by these gestures and the two of you haven’t even arrived at the good part yet.

Your head swims, going wild over the thought of what the two of you could end up doing as he unfastens your clothes and throws them across the room. Very out of character for a man who wants to be clean and organized all the time.

His lips trail kisses all over your body, pausing to skim his teeth along your side, caressing each soft spot, turning you on even more.

“I want to eat you up…” He whispers, continuing to smother you with all the love that he can give, touching you everywhere he can.

You look down your body at him, taking in the intense look in his eyes. You want him…

But you also want to make him pay for how he treated you today.

“You have to earn that privilege, Mr. Ackerman.”

You sit up from the desk, pushing him back lightly.

“(Y/N)…”

“You’ve been a naughty boy, Levi.” You wink at him, sucking your finger and waving it in front of him. “And you know what that means…”

“I’m going to tie you up.”

Levi, lets out a soft curse, as you hop down from the desk and motion for him to take a seat behind it. He has no choice but to follow you, albeit a bit surprised as this was something new that the two of you haven’t experience yet. He starts to move around the desk when you call out to him.

“Wait.”

You lean in and skim your fingers over the exposed skin of his chest, then tug lightly on the open flap of his shirt.

“I don’t want to have to deal with this later.” You wink at him again, running your fingers through his abs, caressing them, and you know that something was stimulating inside of your raven-haired lover.

Levi then quickly strips out of the rest of his clothes, then takes a seat in his office chair, arms on the armrests.

You grab a spare cord from one of his desk drawers, then tie his wrist to the chair. You do the same for his other hand, letting your fingers trail along his bare body, noticing the bulging erection in his pants before you step back and admire your handiwork.

“Aren’t you a sight?” You tease him, your husband smirks and shakes his head at how you were the one showing dominance this time around.

Levi tries to reach for you but stops when he pulls against the cords. He sits back with a pout.

“This isn’t fair.” He cursed under his breath. “I want to touch you.”

“Oh… you want to talk about not fair? What have you been doing all morning then?”

You lean over the chair, careful not to touch him, to try and tease him even more. You let your breasts idle near his face… so close, you can feel his breath ghost over your skin. He visibly gulps.

“And now you’re being punished for it.”

You hop back on the desk, facing Levi. You spread your legs so he can see every inch of you, you hear him gulp again and you were loving the attention as you slip your fingers under your panties.

“Tch…” He cursed under his breath.

Your head lulls back as you let the pleasure course through your veins, trying your best to stop yourself from mewling in pleasure. You call out his name, as if imagining that you were pleasuring yourself whilst he wasn’t around. “A-ah…”

Touching yourself in front of Levi is a power trip like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. You can barely control your movements as your hips buck up. You continue to rub your clit in a circular motion. Your husband continues to watch.

Levi licks his lips as he struggles against his restraints. You slow your fingers as you consider him…

“Hmm… have you been punished enough yet?”

“No… but I can’t make it up to you properly unless you let me touch you.” He continues to breathe heavily, still trying to free himself from the restraints.

Selfishly, you know he’s right. You reach out to untie the cords, and he’s all over you, quickly pressing your body onto his, before the ropes even fall to the ground. Levi continues to kiss you deeply, pressing you back against the desk as his hands work your panties down your thighs.

“I haven’t been able to think about anything else all day. I know we could have just done this at home.”

“And now? What do you think is the point of this work holiday?”

His fingers make their way back up your bare legs, stroking you teasingly. “And now… I can barely control myself. I want to devour you.”

You lean back and let your legs fall open as wide as they can. You fight back a blush as he hungrily takes in every inch of you. Levi bows at your feet, lowering his mouth between your thighs and working his tongue against you. He slowly licks the inside curves of your pussy, taking in every inch of you. He continues to make work of exploring your insides by a finger, pushing it in and out.

You shiver and grip the desk, reeling from the sensation.

“Levi!”

“If you want me to make this up to you properly, then you can’t come yet.” He stops for a second, now it was his turn to tease you.

“Can you do that, Ms. Ackerman? Can you hold back until I tell you?” Levi punctuates his question with a devilish twirl of his tongue, and you gasp.

“Yes. I can.”

“I can take whatever you have to give. Don’t hold back.”

Levi smirks at you, and you know he’ll rise to the challenge. He licks his lips… then dips his head and licks you. His tongue continues to ravish you, deeply and heavily, unrelenting.

“A-ah I’m going to!“ You mewl, your hands looking for something to grasp.

“Already? I thought you said you could take it?”

Your body trembles as he sucks and nips on your nipples, leading you toward the brink. He makes his tongue rigid as it flicks against your clit. You lift your head enough to see Levi’s hand working between his legs, touching his cock in rhythm with you as he groans out your name.

“L-levi…” You gesture him to enter you, your finger pointing down as your breath continues to hitch, craving more for him.

He slowly enters as if teasing you, and you feel your juices stimulate as you become one with him. He continues to thrust in, shifting from a normal to a fast pace, still relentlessly teasing you. How the tables have turned.

Levi’s pace grows even faster and faster, it was as if his dick was enlarging inside of you too. Your moans were in sync with his and with one final thrust…

That’s all it takes. Your body clenches, and you fly over the edge, ecstasy crashing over you.

You both exchange your I love you’s, leaning in for one last kiss as you feel the last pump enter inside you.

Levi slowly holds you and helps you down from the desk. It was such a smooth release that not one drop fell onto the desk. If it did though, his clean freak tendencies would probably show by now.

“Let’s clean up. I have a meeting at 3.” He says, still catching his breath, picking up his clothes that he threw from the other side of the room.

“So… you’re telling me that we can still have our lunch date!?” Your eyes lit up; the raven-haired man offers to help you clip your bra.

“Yes. Then let’s go to the spa after.” He smiles, combing a hand through your hair, kissing your shoulder before you finish wearing your blouse again.

“Does that mean we can also do it in the spa?” You ask, suggestively.

“No.”

“Aw. You’re no fun.”

Fin.

me after writing this and as i hit post now:

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #snk x reader #attack on titan x reader #levi smut #levi ackerman smut #shingeki no kyojin x reader #levi x reader smut #levi ackerman x reader smut #attack on titan smut #aot x reader #shingeki no kyojin smut

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oscarseyebrow · 3 years

Note

Here’s a prompt for you: 24 “Don’t mind if I do.”

Feel free to ignore this but I’m thinking AU Poe? Maybe something focusing on what his life would be like if he hadn’t joined the Resistanc? Thank you, love you 😘

gif by the wonderful @zoriis 💖

Rating: M Pairing: Poe Dameron x gn!reader Word count: 5k Warnings: Drinking, language, smoking. AN: Song lyrics taken (and changed) from Never Had. Masterlist | Taglist

The cantina is heaving by the time you finally arrive - late, as per usual. It really isn’t your fault. Whatever your friends may say -- if you ever make it to the table -- it’s not your fault. For every task you’d managed to wrap up at work, two more came across the desk for you and Maker, you really need to learn how to say no.

Leaving work late is the domino to topple the rest, which somehow sees you almost an hour late as you turn sideways, trying to squeeze between two groups of people. It’s so fucking busy and you don’t want to be here.

Come for drinks! They had said in the messages being exchanged throughout the day. There’s some live music on tonight. They’d then added. After the week you’ve had, the thought of drinks is a delight -- but not the live music. Not the packed cantina, full to the brim with people. You should have known it would be like this. Yet, here you are.

Everything is so warm and clammy in the dimly lit room; the heat from all the bodies mingling with very little space to dissipate between the walls and the low ceiling. It’s the kind of heat that wets your skin and causes clothes to stick to a thin covering of perspiration. You can already feel it as the smallest beads begin to build on your lower back beneath your layers. And you’re so desperate to reach the booth and relieve yourself of your jacket, but now you’re trapped. The fabric caught between the two bodies you’re attempting to squeeze between.

“Excuse me,” You tug and tug at your jacket, but to no avail. “Hey, can you… Just…” Another tug and you’re free; the abrupt release causing you to stumble backwards and straight into someone else. There’s a sudden yell that’s quickly followed by a wetness filling your boot and your jaw is already clenching as you glance down, seeing the empty glass rolling away and the contents of it now soaking through to your sock. Fucking great. Yes, please, allow this night to become so much worse than you could have ever foreseen.

Really, there are no words. You can’t blame this guy, you were the one to stumble into him and knock his drink out of his hand. But you still feel the unjustified rage bubbling in your stomach while you glare daggers at him. Without saying anything, you fix your jacket from where it has slipped down over your shoulder and then trudge the rest of the way to the booth; the trail of single wet footprints being left in your wake.

“You made it!” Zee, a friend from your previous place of work, is the first to spot you as she gets to her feet to throw her arms around your shoulders for a quick hug. “What took you so long?”

“Work.” You groan and give her one of those exasperated looks before moving to take a seat beside the others, but you’re quickly stopped by the hand of another friend, not allowing you to move any further.

“Last one in buys a round of drinks.” He grins up at you, clearly a few rounds deep already. In an attempt to keep your thoughts to yourself, you press your lips together in a tight line and look between all of the glasses on the table. They’ve barely been touched. “Hey, I don’t make the rules.” He then shrugs and leans back in his seat, looking all too smug with himself. If only he knew the tight thread your patience is hanging from right now, he wouldn’t be sitting there looking so smug. Finally, your eyes sweep back over to Zee and watch as she gives you a small, apologetic shrug.

Right.

With a heavy sigh, you turn on your heel and begin the struggle of pushing your way through to the bar; that unjustified rage bubbling away again with every shoulder and elbow that catches you as you weave between bodies. Finally, the bar is in sight, it’s only a few feet away and that’s when you stumble; hands quickly grasping for anything within reach to steady yourself as you gasp loudly. It’s a stomach turning moment, much like misjudging the last step in the dark. You lose your footing and know the floor is going to be greeting you real soon.

Thankfully, a hand catches hold of your arm to steady you and guide you forwards so that you can brace yourself against the wet bartop. When previously thinking if this night could get any worse, it hadn’t been a challenge to yourself. Yet, somehow, another domino topples over as you straighten up and turn to give your thanks to the stranger who saved you from the embarrassment of falling down. Your mouth opens but your words stall, not quite making it out as you meet the darkest eyes you’ve ever seen.

“I… Uh…” You stutter while drinking in the handsome face that’s still watching you with interest; eyebrows arching towards soft curls that have fallen free across his forehead from where his hair is swept back. Maker, he’s beautiful and all you can do is stare. “I…” You try again, but become very aware of the hand that is still holding your arm to keep you steady. A whole different kind of heat creeps across your skin now, adding to the warmth of the cantina while your eyes lower to the way his dark hair curls beneath his ear.

“Thanks.” You clear your throat, managing to force your unwilling words out. It starts as a hint at the corner of his lips, his mouth twitching ever so slightly while watching you before a smile finally curls over them. It’s a smile to light up a damn room. It’s vibrant and it radiates warmth as you watch the way his eyes crinkle, showing you how genuine this gesture is. Oh, you’re in trouble and your eyes are falling faster than you were only moments before. They come to land on luscious lips and that’s where they linger for maybe a second longer than they should -- they look so soft, so welcoming and they’re parting as he finally speaks.

“You doing okay?” Your saviour leans forwards a little as he asks that, allowing you to hear a voice that you swear drips actual honey. You should be embarrassed. But, you’re not. And for a fleeting moment, you find yourself smiling back at him, allowing him to captivate you and draw you in. It feels like the first genuine smile you’ve given since walking into this place, and you’re throwing it at a stranger you’ve just met.

“No.” You laugh, unable to help yourself. “I’m really not. I’ve been dragged here to see some shitty musician, I have someone’s drink swimming around inside of my boot and I have to buy a round of drinks because I’m late.” The man’s hand finally leaves your arm while he leans against the bar, keeping his body turned to yours now that you have seemingly caught his attention.

“Nice to meet you, Late. I’m Poe.” His hand extends towards you as he introduces himself and it takes you a moment for his awful joke to finally click. Oh. Stars. He’s witty as well as handsome. And as an automatic reaction, your hand reaches to take his, curious to know what his skin feels like as you shake it in greeting. Smooth, yet calloused. His palm holds a softness that his fingertips lack and you can’t help but wonder what his story is.

“That’s not-” You begin, as though considering correcting him and telling him your actual name, but you think better of it and simply shake your head with a small laugh. “You know what? Never mind.” Releasing his hand, you turn your attention to the bar and try to make eye contact with the server to let them know that you’re waiting. It’s so busy. You know this is going to take some time.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Poe doesn’t beat around the bush, does he? He’s straight in there, very forward with his offer while he continues to watch you long after your eyes have left him. But even as you stare at the coloured bottles behind the bar, you can still picture the jaw-line, covered with a few days worth of stubble which gives him a somewhat rugged look that counteracts the smoothness of his voice. And those lips. Full and perfectly even at the top and bottom. Your timing is all wrong as you finally glance back over at him and catch him licking at them after finishing his drink, waiting for your answer before ordering another.

You should go back to the booth. You’re here with friends, to see some live music and hopefully have some fun. But the longer you stand here, the more this offer seems much more appealing. They won’t miss you for one drink, will they? It can be quick. So you finally nod and force your eyes away from those lips, desperately trying to keep your face from showing everything you’re thinking right now.

“You can.” And so it’s decided. Tugging your jacket off, you’re hoping it helps with the heat and the way your hair is already beginning to stick to the nape of your neck, but it really doesn’t. It’s heavy and almost suffocating with all of the bodies packed inside of the cantina, yet, this man feels like a breath of fresh air. An attractive, bright, breath of fresh air and you’re desperate to breathe him in.

Poe makes a small motion with his hand on the bar and one of the servers walks down towards him, greeting him with a smile of familiarity. Interesting. This man appears to be known here, perhaps a regular - in any case, the two men know each other as they interact and Poe orders his drink first before turning to you so that you can do the same.

“Jet juice, please.” Poe watches you for a moment, silently storing that information to mind, or silently judging you from your drink choice, you’re not quite sure. But then his attention is gone and he slips the credits across the bar top to pay for the drinks. Even his profile is striking. You make yourself comfortable on the stool beside him while watching him, completely distracted from the chain of events that had brought you to this moment. It’s as though a domino in the line had fallen out of place, breaking the toppling effect to give you a break and as much as you don’t want to admit it, you find that you’re actually enjoying the evening now.

“So, why are you walking around with a drink in your boot?” Those dark eyes sweep back over to you again while Poe turns his head and after some consideration, his body turns, too. It’s now that you notice his shirt is open a button or two more than you’re expecting, revealing hints of a toned chest that’s covered in a light sheen under the lights. Maker, you can only imagine what his skin must feel like beneath your tongue. The warmth and the taste against the strong muscle while you drag it upwards along his throat -- no, stop. You need to stop. But you find that you can’t. Not now that your eyes follow the chain around his neck, right down to the ring that glints and glimmers against his chest.

Is he married? Was he married? You can only make up stories in your head about this stranger as you judge him based on what you can see.

“I bumped into someone…” You begin to explain.

“Do you do that often?” Poe’s response seems to bounce back instantly, the ball quickly falling into your court and keeping you on your toes in the most pleasant way.

“No, I got stuck. I mean, I got my jacket stuck. And then I stumbled and bumped into someone and…” You motion with your hands in an attempt to show him the way the liquid had fallen down your leg to fill your boot. His eyes practically sparkle as he presses his lips together in an attempt to keep himself from laughing at you.

“Don’t…” You warn him, despite a smile curling onto your lips again. “This is not a day to laugh at me, Poe.” There’s something that feels familiar in the way you speak his name, as though this isn’t the first time your mouth has formed the word. But, you can’t seem to place it. You’ve never met him before - That much you do know. You would remember someone this handsome.

“Is your sock wet?” The amusement drips from his voice now and he quickly glances back towards the bar as the two drinks are set down.

“Wet and sticky.” You laugh. Almost simultaneously, you reach for the glass at the same time as he does; your hand briefly grabbing his instead of the cold glass. The warmth is unexpected and not entirely unwelcome before you quickly snatch your arm back and throw an apologetic glance over at him. Somehow, you don’t think he seems to mind because he doesn’t flinch or try to pull back from the brief contact. Poe is still calm and collected as he pushes the glass towards you this time, helping you to avoid any further embarrassment. Why are you like this?

“Did you not think to take it off?”

“Take it off?” Your question doesn’t really answer his question as you take a sip of your drink and swallow down the bright liquid. It adds even more warmth to your body while it slides down your throat and seems to pool in your stomach, blazing a trail the whole way down. “I hadn’t really thought that far ahead.” You admit and then lick your lips to collect any lingering taste there.

That’s when you notice Poe’s eyes drop, almost in the exact same way yours had when mesmerized by his own lips. They seem to linger for a moment before he reminds himself to look back up to your eyes again, watching you with interest. You have his attention. And just to test that, you reach up to swipe your thumb against the corner of your lower lip -- his eyes instantly falling again to follow it. The initial attraction is no longer one-sided.

The sound of a glass smashing and cheering over the other side of the cantina breaks the moment as you both glance over, watching a group of friends laughing at a member of their group who had dropped a drink. Pity your boot wasn’t there to catch it. When you finally turn back to look at Poe again, he’s taking a couple of gulps from his drink; the muscles in his throat working with each swallow until he lowers his glass again. Look away. Look away. But all you can do is swallow thickly until he speaks again.

“Did you say you were here with friends?” That suave voice enters your thoughts and brings your attention to the present moment as Poe asks his next question, interested to learn more about you. He’s making easy conversation from the first thing you told him; your wet boot and the fact that you were here with friends to see some musician. Would you still rather be at home now?

“Yeah, they’re over…” You trail off as you sit up taller on the stool, attempting to look between heads and shoulders to spot your group in their booth. Eventually, you make eye contact with one of them and give them a small wave. “There.” Poe’s eyes follow yours to where more of them are looking now, pointing over at you and clearly having a discussion about the fact you're sitting at a bar with someone you’ve just met. You know, it’s not your usual style -- but there’s something about Poe that seems to draw you in after stumbling into his gravitational pull.

Poe also waves over to them and the look on Zee’s face is an absolute picture. You’ll fill her in about him later and how you ended up here.

“They look happy to be here.” He observes with amusement and he’s right. They really do. You’re not sure what they’re so excited about, but they’re practically buzzing as they talk amongst themselves while looking over at you again.

“They’re always happy to be here.”

“But you’d rather be at home?” Poe asks, as though he already knows your answer to that.

“Yes.” You tell him honestly and laugh again. “All day I’ve been thinking about drinking wine on my sofa and falling asleep.” Your truthfulness has him laughing this time and the sound is wonderful. It’s so rich and full of character as it rolls out from his chest, catching the attention of others around him. It’s a sound of happiness in its truest form; nothing forced, nothing fake - simply Poe enjoying the moment that he’s sharing with you.

“Yet, here you are.”

“Here I am.” You smile at him and take another sip of your drink.

“Willing to put yourself through the torture of listening to a shitty musician, just for your friends.” It’s you that laughs this time and you set your glass down, drying off the condensation against the side of your leg.

“You think he’s shitty, too?”

“Oh, the shittiest. Never seems to get any better.” Maker, he gets it. You’ve never actually heard the artist you’re here to see -- Hell, you can’t even think of the name now that you try, but Poe seems to understand. “But for what it’s worth, I’m glad you came.” There’s such honesty laced with his amusement and it momentarily catches you off-guard; your laughter falling silent while you watch him with a lingering smile.

“Yeah… Me too.”

An easy silence settles as you take the time to look over Poe’s face again, picking up subtle details that you may have overlooked the first time. The peppering of greys in his stubble, a small scar on his cheek and the way his eyelashes seem to fan out right at the ends of his upper lids. Those striking looks make it difficult to avert your eyes when his meet yours, so you hold them for a few seconds and simply smile at each other, as though already knowing where this encounter is going to end up.

But the man behind the bar interrupts the moment all-too soon; his presence in your periphery also catches Poe’s attention as he glances over at him.

“Is it that time already?” Poe asks and finishes his drink without ordering another. There’s a sense of disappointment settling in your stomach at the thought of this man leaving before you’d really got to know much about him.

“Got a few minutes, but they’re ready whenever you are.” The man taps the bar top a couple of times and then leaves Poe to it. But he’s already straightening up as his eyes find yours again and before he can say anything, your mouth is blurting out words you weren’t intending to voice out-loud.

“Are you leaving?” As much as you try to play this casually, there’s still a hint of disappointment in your voice and you know that he hears it.

“I am…” Poe trails off and then throws you a grin; it’s different to the smiles you’ve been getting out of him and you suddenly find out why. “Got some shitty music to play.” It takes you a few seconds, but then something clicks. A light comes on so suddenly in your brain and you feel your mouth open, then quickly close again -- a motion that you repeat a few times as everything begins to make sense.

“You’re-”

“I am.”

“No…” You trail off, feeling the heat of embarrassment rush to your face and the back of your neck. “Why didn’t you say something?” Maker, you’re mortified. You’ve been sitting here, indirectly complaining about being dragged to see him. He’s the shitty musician.

“You didn’t ask…” Poe trails off, as though it’s the most obvious point he could make. “But it was worth it. Your face, a real picture.” And then he pauses, as though he wants to say something before thinking better of it. Instead, he quips, “I hope your sock dries out.”

“Yeah, me too.” You smile and watch as his lips curve upwards to return it; the genuine quality of it bringing that same sparkle to his eyes before he finally steps away to make his way through the crowd of people. Within a few seconds, he’s gone from your sight and you exhale a heavy sigh before laughing to yourself. Maker. That was embarrassing, in the best possible way.

By the time you make it back to the booth -- luckily, with no more accidents -- the first song has already begun. Seconds. That’s all the time it takes for the cantina to fall silent; everyone seemingly absorbed in the man who takes command of the whole room with only his voice. There’s no theatrics, no big show -- just Poe. Poe, his guitar and a soothing voice that washes over the crowd.

And you have to admit, he’s not a shitty musician. In fact, he’s far from it.

That melancholy voice stirs emotions inside of you that you weren’t expecting to feel tonight. They’re simultaneously heartwarming yet somber. His tones are gentle, yet rough. You’re no longer angry and frustrated at the events that had led to this moment; in fact, you’re far from it as you sit there with a soft, mellow smile on your face. Each song earns applause and sounds of approval from the crowd, causing the man on the stage to smile in the way that illuminates him brighter than the spotlight trained on him.

“There was no writing on the wall, no warning signs to follow... I know now, and I just can't forget... You're the best I never had.”

You can’t decide if it’s real or just wishful thinking, but it feels as though his eyes sweep across every so often to your direction, almost as if he still remembers where you had pointed out your friends to him earlier. You tell yourself that he’s not actually looking at you, not with all these other people in here who want to see him perform. But with each meeting of his gaze, it’s hard to convince yourself otherwise. It makes you feel almost giddy to think that in a cantina full of people, you still have his interest.

“In this motel, well past midnight... When I'm bluer than a bruise...”

It’s not a crush. It’s not. You’re not a kid, but it sure feels similar; it makes you smile and avert your eyes, it makes your stomach flip with a combination of excitement and longing to talk to him again. Maker, you want to be close enough to him to admire the way those eyelashes caress his skin with each blink, or the way his eyebrows raise to signal his amusement in conversation. You want to allow yourself to gravitate towards him again and lose track of time while appreciating the way he seems to listen to each word you speak.

But then, you swear everything momentarily stops. Everything around you becomes nonexistent, as though you’re the only person sitting there while your heartbeat kicks up a notch inside your chest.

“You come stumbling in, through the half-light, in your funny… wet boots.”

No, this isn’t a crush. In this very second, it’s a whole goddamn explosion of exhilarating amusement as you find yourself laughing out loud at the obvious change in Poe’s original lyrics. They don't even rhyme but they're about you. It’s endearing mockery and an attempt to draw you in. He knows that he has you because there’s a grin on his lips as he continues singing. Maker, how can one man be so kriffing charming?

Suddenly, you have a million reasons to be thankful you accepted the stupid invitation to come here tonight

You sit and listen to Poe’s captivating voice with a soft smile on your face, reveling in the intimacy he’s created between you with a simple reference to your shared joke. Despite the fact that this place is packed and he has a large audience hanging onto his every word, it almost feels like he’s singing for you.

As soon as the set is over, the bustle of the cantina resumes; everything becomes far too loud again. You can’t deny it, the good mood that you’re now in, mixed with the flow of drinks through Poe’s show has a relaxing buzz settling through your limbs while you try to keep up with the conversation going on in the booth.

“Another drink?” Zee motions to your empty glass that you’re still holding in your hand, having unknowingly finished it while distracted. You weigh your options and shake your head.

“No, thanks. I’m going to grab a smoke.” You politely decline and wait until she slides out of the booth so that you can follow as you pick up your jacket and slip it on. It’s still far too warm in there to be wearing layers, but you know the air outside carries a bite tonight.

Thankfully, your attempt to get out of the cantina is much more successful than the one getting in and you’re soon wrapping your arms around yourself as you step out of the way of the doors, trying to keep in some of the warmth you’d been willing to leave you earlier. Even from outside, you can still hear the muffled rumbles and voices coming from the other side of the wall. A faint smile settles onto your lips as you slip a cigarette between them and make quick work of lighting it up.

No sooner are you exhaling the smoke and watching it curl upwards towards the cloudy sky, than the door to the cantina opens again and there’s a momentary rush of warm air spilling out into the cold night air. Your eyes slide over and that smile begins to curl further onto your lips as you watch Poe look to his right, then to his left before he spots you.

“Hey, Late.” His movements are almost a copy of yours as he steps out of the way of the door and comes to stand in front of you instead. “Your friend said I’d find you out here.” Of course she did. Your eyes move over Poe’s face, noticing that some of the curls you’d been staring at earlier were now damp and clinging to the skin around his temples from where he’d clearly been sweating while performing.

“Had to make my escape…” You trail off and lean back against the wall while you watch him. “Could only take so much of that musician.” This earns you a laugh while you pull the small, compact tin from your pocket that has your rolled cigarettes inside and offer it to Poe. “Want one?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Poe doesn’t need to step as close to you as he does while accepting one of your cigarettes, nor does he need to rest his hand against yours while dipping his head when you offer him a light, but he does. And the smallest contact of his hand brushing against yours creates the same tingling sensation as it had when reaching for the glass at the same time.

Poe frowns slightly as he takes a deep drag from the cigarette and then exhales slowly; his tongue licking at his lips, which momentarily distracts you from everything else. The lower one glistens in the lights strung up outside of the cantina and it takes every bit of self control you have not to step forwards and kiss him. And he knows it. It’s written all over his face while he watches you without saying anything.

An easy silence settles as you take turns drawing from your cigarettes; you, still leaning against the wall and letting your eyes drink in every inch of him while he stands before you, doing the exact same. Occasionally, you share a smile when your eyes meet his and hold him in a lingering gaze. He’s still just as handsome as the moment he caught you; his striking looks having stolen your words from you while you’d tried to compose yourself.

But now he was so much more. Charming, yet a tease, with a voice that could melt like butter and ooze a delightful softness. But there was something about him that was rough around the edges; a rugged energy that drew you in and made you want to know more.

“Do you want to grab some food with me?” Poe finally speaks after what feels like the longest time. Food? With this man? Your smile tells him your answer before you’ve spoken a word, yet you still take a few seconds to keep him hanging before you finally nod.

“I’d like that.” Your answer has that smile curling over his lips again as the corner of his eyes crinkle softly.

“Yeah, me too.” Poe throws your last words to him from earlier right back at you as he holds out his arm, and with the final drag on your cigarette, you discard it and push yourself away from the wall so that you can link your arm through his.

Maybe coming to see a shitty musician hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.

--------

Taglist: @the-scandalorian @fett-ching @ohkarabast @salome-c @dinjarin-baket @meanperegrine @uncle-kenobi (hope you don't mind me tagging you, fellow poe hoe 💖) @the-little-ewok @mypedrom (didn't forget you this time sweetie 💖)

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x gn!reader #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x gender neutral reader #writing prompt #star wars fanfiction

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floraltypes · 3 years

Text

Distraction

leroy jethro gibbs x reader

fluff, drinking, mentions of sex, death,

based on earlier seasons

AN: ahh my first NCIS little drabble! requests are open so request something!

The moon was shining into the windows of the dimly lit bar. It defiantly wasn’t the nicest one you’d ever been in, but when a old friend insisted on bringing you, you gave in.

She had been babbling to you, for days, about the man who owns it and how they are sleeping around with each other. She continued to then beg for you to come and check it out, then maybe bring some of your coworkers so the guy she liked so much could have more customers.

“Come on Y/n!” Your friend, Elise, whined. She sat up from her position on the couch in your apartment, and locked her fingers around your wrist to get you to stand. “Let’s go! It’s a good place! Popular! Fun! Drinks are cheap,” She was very cheery and trying her hardest to convince you as well.

“Not now,” You groaned, trying to use your weight to stay on the couch. “Brandon is coming over and I had plans to have a nice dinner with him,” You told her, the girl giving up.

Brandon was your current boyfriend, for about two months. Both of you were always incredibly busy with your jobs, him a FBI agent, you a NCIS special agent. So, it made it very difficult to truly see each other and have fun.

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He was helping with the investigation due to the victim of the crime (at the time) being a old navy friend of his. They were going to meet up and try to regain a old friendship before the man was murdered. But Brandon decided to stay a bit and try to help with the case, to find his friends murderer, and to talk to you a bit more.

“A shame to see him go. Wish I’d have see him sooner,” Brandon admitted, rubbing his eyes a little while staring at the body bag.

“I’m sorry for your loss Agent Jordon,” You put a arm on his shoulder and he looked down at you with a small smile. “Trust us, we’ll find him,” You tried to reassure him.

“Thank you Agent L/n,” He nodded, turning fully around to face you now, while they lifted up the body bag to carry it into the van. “I would hope it will be okay if I join you with finding him,” He looked towards you for a answer.

“Oh! Well, uh, I-”

“Talk to your supervisor,” Gibbs interrupted, throwing a camera into your hand. “We still need to hear about your alibi. L/n, get to work on those photos. Todd!” He called out to the other female agent who was walking over with DiNozzo.

“Yeah, Gibbs,” She walked over, fixing the hat that was covering a bit too much of her face than she wanted.

The park was empty, they had found the body slumped up next to a tree with a cup of coffee in hand, which was going to be tested by the lovely Abby, along with everything else he had on him.

“You and DiNozzo go ahead and check out the areas around here, take another camera,” He commanded Todd and DiNozzo, who soon left. “L/n, pictures,” He snapped, now standing right next to you. You quickly nodded and left to go do the job by taking some more pictures of where the body formally was.

“Sir, I hope you’ll let me join you on this investigation. I was at my office, up until I got news of his murder, you can check with coworkers of mine and even my boss,” Brandon told Gibbs, hands now in his pockets and pulling out the FBI badge.

“I know what you are,” Gibbs sneered, motioning for him to put it away. “We don’t need FBI for this, it’s our job,”

“Just for a extra eye, nothing more, I just want to know I did all I could do to get justice for my friend,”

“Come on Gibbs,” You piped up, walking over with the camera in hand and zippering up your jacket with the other. “A extra hand, another person to boss around, and that person being a FBI agent. It kinda sounds like something you might want,” You joked, slowly lowering your voice as his intimidating gaze was put on you. “Or not?”

“I obviously don’t boss you around enough that you feel the need to bother me instead of doing your job,”

“I took the photos!” You lifted up the camera and pulled up a photo of something you found near the body. “Looks like boot marks on the grass, they were bigger and I measured, bigger than our victim. That can help narrow down the search, they were also heavier boots, something someone who’s in the navy might wear,” You handed him the camera and walked to stand across from him, next to Brandon.

“You’re good,” Brandon complimented, smiling down at you.

“Than-”

“It’s the bare minimum, let’s go,” Gibbs, once again, interrupted, and the three of you started walking to his car. “Y/n, up front with me,” He commanded and you quickly jumped in the seat.

“So, can I help?” Brandon asked after there were a few minutes of silence.

“As long as you don’t get in our way,”

Once you made it back to the iconic building, you were excited to show Brandon around a bit, DiNozzo and Todd already doing some research based on some things they found.

“Oh! The autopsy is where Ducky is working at the moment. You have to go and see down there, but Ducky is a talker, so be warned. Sometimes I go down there, on paperwork days, to learn more about anatomy,” You informed the Agent who was happily listening besides you.

“L/n, you are at work, during your work hours, where you get payed to do work. Also known as working on the case, not giving tours, he can figure it out himself,” Gibbs commented, dropping off a couple of files at your desk. You let out a little groan, and apologetic smile to Brandon and walked back to your desk. “Figure out his closest friends, got it, people he was closely working next to,”

“Yes sir,” You plopped yourself down and started to open a file when another chair was soon pulled up.

“Boss is in a extra bad mood today, huh?” DiNozzo laughed, grabbing one of the files near you.

“Big surprise,” You rolled your eyes, flipping to the next page.

“I’ve got a feeling he doesn’t like little FBI agent,”

“Well of course not, he is a FBI agent after all,”

“I’m thinking for another reason,” DiNozzo sent you one last smirk before rolling his chair back to the desk next to you.

“What’s tha-”

“Need help?” Brandon wondered, pulling up a extra chair and grabbing a file. The two of you chatted while going through it. Gibbs down checking in with Abby and then Ducky to see what more they could find out.

Soon, you were all able to find out who exactly killed the victim, leaving to go to the home the man was with another navy agent. You and Brandon took the front of the house, Gibbs and Dinozzo taking the back entrance of the farm house and land, going to check where some animals were located. Todd and Mcgee then headed to a shed that was also present on the land.

You looked back at Brandon, who nodded at you, signaling it was okay to open the door, and you turned the knob. Walking into the entrance and started to sweep the area with your gun in front of you. Brandon motioned you over to a door where he was hearing noises and soon swung it open.

“Liam Han! Put the gun down!” You yelled at him, then pressing your ear piece and letting the rest of the team know you had found the man. You watched the life drain out of the mans face, the first beam of sweat truly drip down, the way his eyes widened every so slightly, and his gun quickly moving to be aimed at Brandon.

You soon shot the mans arm while he shot Brandons leg, other agents soon rushing in and putting Liam into handcuffs and helping the petty officer, who was kidnapped, out of his seat.

“Agent Jordon,” You got on your knees besides him, looking at the wound which seemed to hit a bit below his knee. “Don’t worry medics are on their way, um, are you okay?”

“I might be FBI, but I tend to due more paperwork than field work,” He laughed a little, clutching the wounded leg.

“Why wouldn’t you inform us of that?” Gibbs asked him, same tone in his voice like always.

“It’s not like I’m never on the field, I know what to do,” He didn’t look at Gibbs at all just looking at you. “But hey, maybe this little wound will make it more convincing for you to let me take you out on a date,” He smiled widely, despite his bloody leg.

“Uh.” You looked at him in disbelief and Gibbs rolled his eyes.

“Might as well call of the medics,” Gibbs commented, moving towards the door.

“Wait! No! I still need them!” Brandon called out after.

“That’s something I’m gonna have to try,” DiNozzo mentioned.

“Yeah, ‘cause it would be real charming if you did it,” Todd added.

“Sure,” You told him, laughing a bit while the medics came in to truly address his leg.

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Two more dates, after the first one, he soon asked you to be his girlfriend and the two of you have been going strong for two months!

“I’m in town, please, do this one thing for me!” Elise continued to beg.

“And I never see Brandon,” You fired back. “I’ll think about it, but your flight is tomorrow, so you better go spend the last of that time with your boy toy and I’ll email you,” She quickly nodded and grabbed her stuff, saying a quick goodbye.

A few hours later Brandon arrived to your apartment, yet, not so thrilled to see you. He had a stressed look on his features and no bags in his hand, just a frown and a envelope.

“Brandon?” You got up from the couch you’d been waiting on for the past two hours and slowly walked over to him. “What’s wrong?”

“I think we should break up,” His eyes connected with yours, tears littering the edge of his eyes.

“Wha-why?”

“I need to focus on my work, I’ve always wanted to be a unit chief and in order to gain that goal, I need to do better at my job, and that means cutting off any distractions,” He explained, placing the envelope on your kitchen counter.

“Distractions?”

“I don’t mean for it to come off in a rude way, but this is just the best for me, and now you can even focus on your work more and how to deal with a insane boss,” He lightly laughed, slowly walking to you a patting your shoulder. “I hope to see you soon,” He turned back to the door and left like he was never there.

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That’s how you found yourself in the crappy bar. Elise sure talked it up enough to make it sound decent, but in all reality is was one of the worse you’ve ever been too. But the drinks were kind of good and cheap, so staying a little longer didn’t seem so bad.

Later, when you indulged in a few more weeks, you realized it would be best to head back, yet Elise was off having fun with her boy and you came here with her, in her car.

“DiNozzo,” You spoke into the phone, coughing a bit afterwards. “Pick me up,”

“You’re drunk?” He asked into the phone. “Weird, I’ve only seen that a few times. Not pretty,” He laughed. “Would love to, we’ll not really, but I’m with this smoking hot blonde and she wants to do it in the shower, later,” He hung up, leaving you to dial another friend.

“Y/n?” Caitlins voiced echoed through the phone. “What’s up?”

“I’m drunk, and want to sleep, pick me up Cait, please?”

“I’m out with my family, maybe ask Abby?”

“At some weird rock concert,” You groaned. “I’m not even a crazy drunk, or that drunk, but I don’t feel comfortable driving and I just want to sleep,” You complained.

“I’ve got to go, good luck,” Caitlin then hung up, leaving you to let your forehead fall onto the bar counter.

“Ugh, I guess I have no choice,” You groaned, again, and dialed a number you were dreading to call.

“L/n? It’s late, what is it?”

“Gibbs, I need to call in a favor,” You quietly voiced into the phone.

“What’s this, favor?”

“Can you pick me up,”

“You sound twelve,”

“I can’t drive and everyone’s busy, come on, for me?”

“Tch, I was finally making some real progress on my boat, but now I have to go and save a dumb drunk coworker of mine,” He grumbled underneath his breath, which was still able to be heard through the phone. “Tell me the address,”

You soon told him and hung up. Paying the money you owed the bartender and getting your purse all ready for when the grey-haired man would show up.

“This place is a dump,” A familiar voice muttered, stepping through the door. “What the hell?”

“Gibbs!” You shot up and tumbled your way towards him. “I absolutely hate this place, and fuck-”

“Woah,” He caught your body which just about fell onto him. “You sure can talk normally but not walk normally,” He noted, swinging one of your arms to fall onto his shoulders and his to snake around your waist.

Since the place was about deserted it was easy to get a parking spot in the front and guide you to the car. Once Gibbs opened the passenger door you flopped down, and Gibbs leaned over to buckle your seatbelt, your eyes closed.

“Fell asleep, already, damn, I don’t know where you live,” He mumbled, getting into the drivers seat and pulling out of the nasty bar.

“Gibbs,” You whispered, stirring around in the chair and moving one of your hands to reach for his thigh, though his full attention was already on you, the red beaming onto your features.

“Y/n,” He spoke again, ignoring the hand that was rested on his more lower thigh. “I’m taking you to my place, I have a extra bedroom so it shouldn’t be a problem. And if it is, I don’t care because you’re the one who decided to get drunk,”

“Mmk,” You hummed. “Gibbs,”

“Yes?” He moved his attention back to the road, the color changing.

“You’re my favorite agent,” You laughed a little after, now the true side affects of when you were sleepy and drank too much, kicking in.

“Thanks, I guess,”

“Am I yours?”

“Sure,”

“Good,” You closed your eyes again, letting a grin take over your features. “Gibbs,”

“Yes,” He said with a bit more irritation this time.

“I miss Brandon,”

“Weren’t you supposed to see him tonight?”

“He broke up with me, said I was a distraction. So he needs to cut me off and focus now. Am I a distraction to you?”

“Yeah,” He chuckled a little at the droppy tone of your words and the funny memories of you flashing through his mind at the question. “But sometimes distractions are a good thing. Like distracting you from the troubles that just can’t be fixed at the moment, that’s what you do for me, so it isn’t a horrible thing,”

“Ah,”

“Brandon was a idiot anyway,”

“You’re just saying that ‘cause he was FBI,”

“Yeah, that’s true, but,” Gibbs stopped for a moment, thinking about the words he was about to mutter, contemplating if he was willing to take the risk or not. “He’s also a idiot for getting rid of a distraction like you,”

“You mean that? Gibbs I-” You stopped your sentence after feeling a pair of lips being pushed up against your own. You opened you eyes wide to look at the man who had connected his with yours. “Gibbs what about rule-”

“Who cares, I made the rules, therefore I can break them,” He smirked, grabbing the hand in his lap. “Let’s head to my house and get you to bed and some medicine in your stomach for the hangover you’re going to have tomorrow,”

“Oh, okay,”

“After I finish up on my boat,”

#gibbs x reader #ncis fandom #ncis fanfiction #ncis fic #ncis x reader #leroy jethro gibbs #tony dinozzo #abby sciuto #ducky #timothy mcgee #donald mallard #jimmy palmer #caitlin todd #caitlin mcgee

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aster-aspera · 3 years

Photo

It’s just my skin

@badthingshappenbingo

Prompt: loss of hearing

Pairings: (platonic) jonmartim

Warnings: claustrophobia, hospitals, hearing loss

Masterlist

If you liked it please reblog <3

The aftermath isn’t as quiet as Tim thought it would be.

Maybe it’s the fact that he isn’t dead even though he should be, maybe it’s the dreadful ringing in his ear, maybe it’s the way his chest is heaving in gasping breaths he can’t hear.

There’s a thousand pounds of stone pressing down on his back and somewhere far above him he can feel the ground rumble and shift. He can’t even find it in himself to worry about the whole place coming down. He wasn't planning on making it out alive either way.

He thinks he floats in and out of consciousness for a bit. Time seems to wind and stretch and loop back, only the rubble on his back and the incessant ringing to keep him company.

Something shifts eventually, a change in the air at first, the darkness becoming just a bit softer, a bit less cloying.

And then there are hands and stretchers and needles and people pulling and prodding him and over it all is still that high pitched ringing, rising higher and higher into an impossible crescendo. He thinks they ask him things, he is sure he sees their lips moving and their expectant gazes. He thinks he tries to say something, but his lips feel awkward and unwieldy.

Everything goes dark after that. A cool blessed darkness where he just floats, no stone, no rubble, no dust, just peace.

He thinks about Danny for a while, and the ritual and the burning collapse of it all and the way Sasha smiled at him every morning when he came into the archives. Then he just sleeps.

He wakes up a bit more coherent the next time. The ringing isn’t gone yet, but at least his brain doesn’t feel like it’s through different planes of dimensions at a hundred kilometres per hour anymore. At least now he can breathe without the dust clogging his lungs.

He looks around the overbright hospital room, the disconnected monitor and the IV dripping a clear fluid into his veins. There’s a bouquet of orange flowers on the bedside table. Probably from Martin, he thinks bitterly. There’s no one else who would go through the trouble.

Martin walks into his room at some point and Tim wonders why he’s here and not hovering around Jon like some lost puppy. Maybe Jon didn’t make it out of the explosion.

Something sharp and painful shoots through Tim’s chest at the thought and he does his best not to examine it too closely.

He looks up at Martin, whose lips are moving as he fusses with the flowers on the little table. Tim stares up at him uncomprehendingly, waiting for sound to come through, waiting for that unbearable ringing to resolve itself into something he can understand.

It doesn’t.

“I can’t hear,” He says, his lips forming the words, his vocal cords vibrating, but no sound comes out, not to him at least. Martin looks up at him with concern, his mouth moving in shapes that should have been familiar, had they been accompanied by the right noises.

“I can’t hear,” Tim says again. And this time, it doesn’t come out half as controlled. He can feel something very close to panic crawling it’s way up his throat and he doesn’t quite manage to swallow it down.

Martin presumably says something else, before giving up and typing something on his phone, shoving it into Tim’s hands before stalking out of the room.

Getting a doctor, stay here

Well of course he’s going to stay here, does Martin really think he’s going to wander around London when he’s just survived an explosion? He isn’t Jon.

He waits impatiently in his bed, rubbing the uncomfortably thin hospital sheets between his fingers and trying to adjust the flat pillows so he can sit up.

Eventually the doctors come in and once again, it’s back to being poked and prodded. Doctors examining his ears and brain and all the million scans they take, with Martin occasionally coming in to hover over him, bringing along coffee from the cafeteria.

In the end, the verdict is predictable. Permanent damage from his proximity to the explosion. Figures he couldn’t just walk out of that unscathed.

And most people would probably consider being permanently deaf better than being dead. Tim wasn’t too sure he agreed with them yet.

They let him go home eventually, with a whole laundry list of instructions on how to care for himself. Tim throws the papers into a corner as soon as he gets home. He’ll be fine, he’s survived Jane Prentiss, he can survive this. And it isn’t like it matters much.

His phone buzzes to life when he sticks it into the socket, all the messages he missed streaming in at once, a tidal wave of promotional mails and push notifications. He’s half tempted to just shut it off again when he notices one text notification between all the others.

Jon

Martin had told him he was alive, of course. But something about seeing his name displayed black on white on his phone screen drives the point home in a way Martin’s scribbled notes hadn’t done. Something sharp and hot shoots through his chest and he wants desperately for it to be that familiar anger that carried him through the last few months.

But as he lets his head fall back onto the couch, he can’t quite feel it burn the same, and without its familiar warmth, he feels hollow in a way he hasn’t since Danny died.

He swipes away the message without reading it and curls up on the couch, pulling an old, dusty blanket over himself and shutting his eyes. He tries not to think too much of the darkness after the explosion, of the plaster dust swirling through the air and settling in his lungs, of the stone crushing his limbs at awkward angles.

A dark apartment isn’t much like a collapsed building but his brain doesn’t care when it brings up vivid images of his time under the rubble. Despite it all, he does eventually drift into the comforting darkness of sleep, his slumber taking the pain and weariness out of his bones for just a moment.

It’s peaceful, till he wakes up gasping from a nightmare.

His desk rattles slightly when a heavy book is dropped on it and Tim looks up in annoyance, ignoring the painful squeezing in his chest when he meets Jon’s tired, regretful eyes.

‘Learning sign’ The book proclaims and Tim feels irritation bubbling up.

“Fuck off,” He says, focusing his attention once again on his desk.

‘I know sign, I can help, or at least recommend you some classes/books’ Jon informs him through the notes app on his phone.

“I don’t need your help.”

‘I know you don’t, but I’d like to'

“Why? So you can feel better about everything that happened? You think this is going to fix it?”

‘I’m sorry Tim’

“Sorry is too late,” he bites out, shoving out of his chair roughly. He tries to move past Jon, make it out of this stifling, dusty room, get somewhere it doesn’t feel like the walls are watching him.

A rough, calloused hand shoots out, wraps around his wrist like a vice. Jon’s eyes are dark with concern and Tim feels an odd anger at the expression. How can he show so much empathy after everything that happened?

He looks at the hand wrapped around his wrist and suddenly, it’s all just too much.

The deafening ringing in his ears, this wretched place that trapped him and choked him and took his best friend from him. And Jon, eyes still hopeful, still compassionate, after Tim had blamed him and hurt him for months on end.

“Go away,” He tries to say and he doesn’t even make it to the first syllable before his voice betrays him with a choked sob. A shudder runs through him and he looks down at the wooden floor, trying to compose himself.

The grief has never felt as all consuming as it does in this moment and it chokes and burns and pulls him under all at once.

And then, there are arms around him. A familiar touch, a familiar weight, from days so long ago Tim can barely remember them. The first touch that isn’t hostile, the first comfort he has felt in so long.

And it’s all from the man he’s tried to hate for months.

His hands curl themselves tightly into Jon’s cardigan and he buries his face in his shoulder, biting back tears with all his might. It doesn’t do much good against the tidal wave of emotions sweeping through him and soon he’s shaking all over with the sobs that wrack through his body.

Jon’s hand comes up in a familiar movement, brushing through Tim’s messed up curls. It’s hesitant at first, as if Tim will yell at him again, but when he makes no motion to do so, only melting deeper into the hold, the fingers carding through his hair become surer.

There’s a rumble against his cheek as Jon says something and Tim wishes desperately he could still hear it, hear Jon’s sure and steadying voice.

He remembers when, near the beginning of it all, he would stand in the corridor outside of Jon’s office and listen as his voice drifted through the halls, all the pain and fear and emotions painted so clearly on it. He’d always thought Jon a bit ridiculous for the way he read those statements. Now he just wished he could hear it one more time.

He closes his eyes as the loss of his family and his friend and even his hearing tear through his chest, leaving him shattered and shaking.

Jon’s chest rumbles again and Tim presses his cheek into it, pretending for just a moment he can hear a sound that isn’t the awful ringing.

Another pair of hands close around him, softer ones, broader ones. They pull him up gently and he’s not entirely sure how they both ended up on the floor, it probably has something to do with how broad he is and how skinny Jon is.

He’s pulled close against a soft, broad chest and relaxes into it almost immediately. Martin’s safe, he always has been.

He’s deposited gently on the cot, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a warm mug of tea pressed into his hands. He feels a bit like a child, being coddled and carted around. But right now, he can’t find it in himself to care.

He thinks Jon and Martin are saying stuff. Martin’s chest is rumbling against his back and he tilts his face so he can feel it better. Martin runs a comforting hand along his face, brushing away the tears that stick to it.

A hand settles on his knee, comforting and grounding and he’s sure it’s Jon’s. Both of Martin’s hands are occupied holding him together after all.

He closes his eyes. He can deal with the mess of it all tomorrow.

Right now, he just feels safe. His friends are here and that’s enough.

#tma #the magnus archives #magnuspod #tim stoker #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jontim #jonmartim #martim #jonmartin #i do not know how to tag for this fandom yet #anyway tell me if i missed any warnings #bad things happen bingo #my writing

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leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 3 years

Text

BTS DRABBLE

@gemad08 (I hope it was you who requested this! I can’t remember!): Reader listens to another group’s music and her BTS boyfriends all have very different feelings about that.

Tags: BTS, Bangtan Boys, Bangtan Seonyendan, Bulletproof Boy Scouts, Beyond the Scene, BTS Drabble, Fluff, Request, Ask, BTS x you, BTS x reader, Kim seokjin, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok, Kim Namjoon, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Jeon Jungkook, OT7, boyfriend AU

Genre: Fluff

Title: Playlist

KIM SEOKJIN

“What are you listening to?” Questions Jungkook curiously, as he plops down on the sofa beside you, removing his inner ear piece and reaching up to wipe the sheen of sweat from his forehead.

You pull out one of your own headphones and offer him a slight smile, readjusting the homework you had been working on on your lap. “Oh you know, this and that.”

Jungkook nods, reaching across you to snag an unopened water bottle from the table, before he gulps down almost half of it in one swell swoop. “Yeah, my playlists tend to be a little bit of everything too.”

The couch dips under Jin’s weight as your boyfriend arrives and settles down on your other side, his own hair damp with exertion, as he glances over at you with one eyebrow arched in a look of slight teasing, reaching for your dangling headphone, “It better be our stuff, jagi, or I’ll question your loyalty as a girlfriend.”

You open your mouth, but before you can respond, he places the headphone in his ear, and you watch as his eyes widen and his lips purse into a comical pout that has you holding back laughter.

“Yah, jagi!” Jin exclaims, ripping the headphones out of both of your ears, as he stares you down with a look akin to dramatic hurt and betrayal. “You’re listening to WinnerWinner?!”

You offer him a sheepish smile, before sticking your tongue out and putting the headphones back in your ears, though you don’t miss the sound of Jungkook laughing over the beats of your music.

“I like their stuff.” You protest, pointing to the homework in your lap. “It’s good study music. Helps me focus.”

“And our stuff can’t??” Jin complains in an incredulous voice, mouth still drawn into a deeper pout than before if possible. “Our stuff is great for studying! Take Moon for example, or Epiphany!”

“That’s your stuff.” You tease back gently, before leaning over to press a kiss to his full, plump, still pouting lips. “Besides, you don’t need to be jealous. You’re the only one I kiss after all.”

You grin at him, as he harumphs and throws an arm grumpily across your shoulders, tugging your body against his own. “I better be.” He whines out, as both you and Jungkook laugh once more.

MIN YOONGI

“Yoongi, how much longer?” You whine from your position on the futon in his studio, feet kicking loosely in the air, head dangling upside down from one of the arms, as you adjust your headphones in your ear. “I’m hungry.”

“All right, all right.” Your boyfriend grumbles, shutting off the screen of his computer, and getting up to cross the room to you. He flicks the crown of your head, making you yelp and sit upright again, as he sinks into the cushions beside you. “What’re you listening to anyway?”

You offer him the free headphone willingly, and he puts it to his ear, face immediately pulling into a look of distaste at the sounds of Zico’s smooth rap coming through the speakers.

“Why are you listening to this shit?” Yoongi asks, pulling the headphone from his ear as quickly as he had placed it there, shooting you a sharp look of disapproval.

“I like it.” You pull your own headphone loose and shoot him a glare in return, voice defensive as you begin to coil up the wire and shove it into your purse. “It’s catchy.”

“Really?” Yoongi looks at you with a stare of disbelief, and you feel your cheeks heat up, as if he’s caught you red handed doing something you shouldn’t. “Who taught you what was good music?”

“Myself.” You sniff, though you can’t stay mad at him, because the look of utter confusion and absolute pure surprise on his face at your music choices has you wanting to bust into giggles.

“That stuff is crap.” Yoongi stands from the couch and waves a hand at your phone, motioning to your music taste as a whole. He cocks his head as he looks down at you, and the hint of a superior smirk begins to lift his lips, as he says firmly, “I guess I need to educate you on what’s good music, baby. I didn’t know you were so naive.”

You scoff and stick your tongue out at him, as he whirls his desk chair around and motions for you to sit.

“But what about food?” You complain, stomach still grumbling hungrily as you take a seat, Yoongi reaching around you to turn on the computer.

“I’ll get delivery.” He says nonchalantly, clicking into a folder on the desktop. “This is much more important.”

You sigh in defeat and lean back. “How many of these songs are gonna be your own, Min Yoongi?” You ask suspiciously, looking up at him standing over you, as he offers you the hint of a smile and presses a kiss to your upturned forehead.

“I’ll try to keep it to a minimum.” He teases, before hitting play.

JUNG HOSEOK

“Everything I need is on the ground-”

You sing along to the lyrics of the song that is blasting from the speakers underneath your breath, as you continue your sweeping circle of the kitchen, doing little skip hops to the beat of the music when it tickles your fancy.

You’re feeling good.

You’re done with work for the week, you’re pretty sure you’re getting delivery for dinner tonight instead of cooking, and your boyfriend should be home any minute from the studio.

Not to mention, Rose’s new song is kicking.

Speak of the devil.

Just as you’re glancing at the clock, the sound of a lock is heard in the front door and Hobi bursts into the apartment, face bright and red from practice, hair slicked back with sweat that has long since dried, ankles ringed in old, but extremely comfortable tennis shoes.

“Hey jagi!” He calls, loud voice sounding clear even over the loud music, as he dumps his duffle bag onto the couch and kicks his shoes to the side, before entering the kitchen where you’re just emptying the last dustpan of debris into the trash.

He circles his arms around your waist and gives you a blinding sunshine smile, before peppering your face with kisses that make you laugh until you’re out of breath.

“I missed you.” He says in your ear, and you giggle, as his lips find another place to plant a kiss beneath the juncture of your jaw.

“You’d think you hadn’t just seen me this morning, Jung Hoseok.” You berate teasingly, covering his hands at your waist with your own, as you turn in his arms to face him. Reaching up to push loose strands of dark hair from his forehead, you ask with a tilt of your head, “Wanna order in tonight?”

“Yes please!” Hobi’s eyes light up at the thought of delivery and cuddling and a night spent in with you, and then they widen slightly, as he tilts his head, as if listening, to the repeating song that is still blaring over the sound system for the first time. “Is this Rose’s new one?” He asks, and you can hear the excitement in his tone.

You nod, and before you can say anything, he is sweeping you around in circles to the beat of the newly started song, making you laugh once more, before he calls out, “I love this song! It’s so damn catchy!”

“I can tell.” You say through your laughter, as he releases you on a spin and begins to do a little impromptu solo dance around the clean kitchen.

“Is it on repeat?” Hobi asks, cha cha-ing real smooth over to you, before he takes your hands once more.

You nod. “Of course.”

“Great.” He grins, and the sunshine between his teeth is blinding, as he pulls you into another goofy spin. “Keep it going all night.”

KIM NAMJOON

Namjoon slides into the passenger seat, and you lean over to turn the music down-having turned it up to listen to it loudly with the windows down while you drove-and open your mouth to ask him about his day.

He beats you to it though, catching you off guard, as he eyes the name of the song on the car display curiously. “You’re listening to Jackson’s stuff?”

You blush, feeling embarrassed for some stupid reason, and turn the song almost off, as you reach to put the car into gear. “Yes? I really like his new album.”

“That’s good.” Namjoon says softly, almost as if he’s thinking, as he stares out the car window as you pull out of the studio’s parking lot. “He’ll be happy to hear that.”

You drive in silence for a bit, and you’re wondering if you’re imagining the sudden weird air between you and your boyfriend. Maybe it’s just you? It’s gotta be in your head, right?

You glance at Namjoon out of the corner of your eye, and you note he looks tired. As you turn onto the main road, you ask gently, “Everything go okay today?”

“Hmmm?” Namjoon questions beneath his breath, glancing over at you, as if you have pulled him from his thoughts. He offers you the hint of a smile. “Oh, yeah! Everything was fine. Super busy. Like it always is.”

You nod, tightening and loosening your fingers on the steering wheel, as silence once again prevails.

Why is this weird. Was it because of the music?

You glance at the display, and see another one of Jackson’s songs scrolling across the heading.

Was it weird to listen to your boyfriend’s best friend’s music? Was that some sort of faux pas you weren’t aware of?

Shit.

“Namjoon-” You start to say, and when he looks at you, you force yourself to swallow and keep going. “Does it upset you if I listen to Jackson’s stuff? If so, I’ll stop-”

“What?” Namjoon looks startled, catching you off guard, and his eyes widen as he stares at you. “Why would that upset me?”

“I dunno.” You shrug, suddenly feeling sheepish that you had made this into a deal at all. “I just didn’t know-”

“Baby.” Namjoon leans across the center console, his large, warm palm going to rest on your thigh, as his whole face suddenly breaks out into an amused grin. “You can listen to whoever you want. I don’t care.” He winks at you. “And I was being serious about Jackson being excited to hear you like his stuff. Hell, I like his stuff.”

“Why were you so quiet then?” You ask, relieved, yet not being able to stop yourself now.

“Oh.” Namjoon settles back into his seat, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, as his fingers start to stroke lazy patterns across the jean covered skin of your thigh. He cracks an eye open and shoots you a mischievous grin. “I was just contemplating all of the shit I can show you now that I know you like Jackson’s music. There’s so much in his vault that hasn’t been released to the public that I have access to.”

Your mouth dropped open. “Really?”

Namjoon closed his eyes once more, but not before shooting you another wink. “Really. Buckle up, baby. If you want Jackson Wang, I’ll give you Jackson Wang.”

PARK JIMIN

“Jimin, this is so stupid.” You huff out, as you try to jump two stairs at a time, keeping up with your boyfriend as he doggedly works his way upward.

Damn. For a short guy, he’s really fast.

“Is it?” Jimin asks over his shoulder sharply, not looking at you, as you finally reach the floor that houses the building’s gym and push through the door. He holds it open for you, even though he’s mad, and you’re glad he’s not angry enough to have forgotten the habit. That bodes well.

“Yeah, it is.” You snap back, reaching up to wipe some sweat from the back of your neck,as you adjust your dangling headphones. Why did you agree to work out with him. You should have known better. The walk up the five flights of stairs had been enough. “It’s ridiculous.”

“Hmmm okay.” Jimin hums out mockingly, already headed for the treadmill, as he raises the incline and stretches his ankles, shooting you a heated glare. “Fine. So you won’t mind if I start religiously listening to Girl’s Generation.”

“No?” You pose it as a question, because the idea of that upsetting you just doesn’t compute into your head.

“See, it doesn’t make sense to you, because you’re not an artist.” Jimin complains, sliding his own headphones into his ears as he turns on the treadmill and starts into a brisk jog.

“Whatever.” You roll your eyes and head to the elliptical, as far from your moody boyfriend as you can go.

There is nothing but silence and the sound of breathing and the machines, until Jungkook comes into through the door minutes later, towel slung around his neck, curls already damp with sweat, and you just know he has already been doing some insane pre-workout before his actual workout.

Crazy bastard.

“Hey, (Y/N)!’ Jungkook calls out cheerfully, with a bunny grin and a wave of his hand in your direction.

“She probably can’t hear you. She’s listening to her favorite band.” Jimin snarks in before you can answer his friend, face dark as he continues to sprint through the workout on the treadmill.

Jungkook looks curiously between the two of you, and you stop what you’re doing, letting out an irritated sigh.

“Jungkook, tell Jimin this is stupid.” You say, standing and stretching your arms above your head, as you stick your tongue out at your still grumpy boyfriend. “He’s upset because he found out I like listening to GOT7 more than your stuff, and now he’s throwing a jealousy tantrum.”

“I am not!” Jimin yanks the headphones out of his ears and points in your direction, past the bewildered Jungkook who stands in the middle of you two. “You told me, and I quote ‘It’s weird to listen to your stuff, because you’re my boyfriend.’“

“Well it is!” You shout back, cheeks red, whether from the exercise or the heat of the stupid, teasing argument that had gotten well out of hand.

“Okay, you guys are both being stupid.” Jungkook steps in, holding his hands out as a peace offering between your two heaving chests, as if worried you’re going to come to blows. He glances over at Jimin. “Jimin, your girlfriend can listen to anyone she wants. She’s not your property. You tend to get jealousy, but you don’t need to, because you should know how crazy in love with you she is.”

He glances over to you next, face stern, and you already feel your heart calming in your chest at his words, and Jimin must feel the same, because he doesn’t look quite as riled as before.

“And (Y/N), just because you’re dating an idol doesn’t mean that you have to listen to their music. But try to be a little more sympathetic yeah? We work hard on our shit, and you gotta take into account how Jimin feels.”

You sigh, and glance across the wise younger boy to Jimin, who looks slightly remorseful now. “Fine.” You sigh out, reaching out to offer him a hand. He shakes it, twining his fingers with yours at the last minute. “I’ll try to broaden my perspective.”

“And I’ll try to tone down the jealousy.” Jimin concedes, finally offering you the hint of a smile as his full lips curl upward.

“However.” You shake a finger at the two boys. “I’m not listening to, or watching, or ever liking, Go Go. And you can’t make me.”

They groan, and you laugh before pulling the two of them into a hug.

KIM TAEHYUNG

“Hey jagi, have you seen my-”

You glance up as your boyfriend comes into the room, his words stuttering to a stop as he pauses in the doorway to stare at you, lacing up your nikes by the front door.

“What?” You ask, slightly self consciously, as you glance down at the running outfit you wear-athletic shorts and a sheer tank top covering a brightly colored sports bra, complete with dangling earphones and comfy running shoes-wondering what he’s staring at.

“Nothing.” Taehyung shakes his head, a sly smile coming across his features, as he creeps across the room as if he’s stalking you, before grabbing you around the waist and crushing you to him, lips going to your ear and voice low. “You just look good enough to eat, that’s all.”

You blush and bat at him, but he doesn’t release you. “Stop. You’re so gross.”

“I can’t help it that my girlfriend is super hot.” He drags his lips up the curve of your neck in a line of sloppy kisses, making you laugh and try to pull away from him once more. “You know the only reason I go running with you is so I can watch your ass in those short shorts.” He slaps his hand across said ass, and you yelp.

“Will you quit?” You swat him away again, more aggressively this time, as he finally releases his hold on your waist, but doesn’t pull away from you, as he grabs one of your headphones and holds it up to his ear.

“What’s your running playlist?” Taehyung asks curiously, and you grin, pushing play on the first song. He furrows his brows and shakes his head, motioning to you. “Mmmm nope. Next.”

You skip forward to the next song, and suddenly, his eyes are going wide and his mouth is forming an o and an overly manic excited look is entering his normal expression.

You glance down at the song name and instantly see why.

“Holy shit, I love this song.” Taehyung exclaims, wiggling his body to the sound of gangnam style and Psy’s upbeat vocals.

“I know.” You laugh, before he shoves the headphones back into your hand, catching you by surprise, as he darts past you back the way he had came. “What are you doing??”

“I gotta get my kazoo.” Taehyung calls over his shoulder, then stops in his tracks, glancing back at where you still stand in place. “Actually, on second thought.” He retreats on fast steps and grabs your hand, dragging you along with him toward the office, ignoring your weak protests. “You better come along. I’m about to blow your mind. I can play this song on both kazoo and keyboard.”

JEON JUNGKOOK

Jungkook’s brow is furrowed, his normally caramel eyes dark, lips set into a thin line, and you know. You know that look.

He’s getting competitive.

They don’t call him the golden maknae for nothing, right?

“Jungkook.” You say in a warning tone, already knowing where his mind is going.

“There’s no way.” Jungkook huffs out, pulling the headset from off his ears as he shoots you a look of utter fire, eyes hard and set. “There’s no way they’re better than us.”

You sigh, and the sound is slightly amused and slightly exasperated. “Kook, I didn’t say they were better than you-”

“Then why listen to them?” He cuts you off, throwing the headset aside and rising to pace the room, before he comes back to stand behind the couch, fingers clenched around the back cushion as he stares into the distance.

“I like their music?” You offer helplessly, as you watch him spiral into that competitive frame of mind that you find halfway hot as hell and halfway infuriating as all get out.

“You really think they’re better than us?” Jungkook asks, interrupting you, as if he hadn’t just heard a word of the answer you had offered. He glances down at you, eyes dark beneath the fringe of his long hair, long hair that’s getting slightly out of control and is fringing on tangled mess of curls. “Why are they better? how are they better?” He mutters to himself, eyes focusing on something far away, as he continues on in disbelief. “Oneus? Really?”

You roll you eyes and push yourself up from the couch, circling around to stand behind him, sliding your hands around his narrow waist, allowing yourself to feel the muscles of his abdomen beneath his sweatshirt before you finally speak. “Kookie, can you not. Just this once. Please.”

“Not what?” He asks, suddenly curious, as he glances back at you, doe eyes wide, as if he’s not even aware of what he’s doing.

“Not compete?” You ask with slight amusement, brows raised in pleading in your boyfriend’s tense direction.

His shoulders relax slightly, and he turns to face you, returning your embrace, his chin resting comfortably on the crown of your head. “Sorry, jagi. Habit.”

“You wanna be the best, I get it.” You hum back, leaning back to connect your lips with his, as the hint of smile starts across your face. “However.” You reach up to push the hair back from his forehead, admiring his handsome, flawless features as he stares down at you. “To me, no one will ever be better than you, Jeon Jungkook.”

His features soften, and he offers you the bunny smile you love so much. “Really?”

“Really.” You grin in return, and reach up to tap the end of his nose with your finger before leaning in to give him another quick kiss. “You’re the best there is.”

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echo-hiraeth · 3 years

Text

Chapter 8: Agente Peña

Part of the “Ilicit Limerence” series

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Summary: The reader comes to terms with the downsides of pregnancy and confides in Connie. Javier decides to spend some more time at home, taking his work with him.

Warnings: swearing, angst, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, nudity, mentions of sickness/vomiting

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Everything you knew about pregnancy you learned from watching television and so you’d expected the sickness and the glowing hair. But the migraines? Those were something you didn’t prepare for, your last week off work started out hunched over the sink, the nausea and continuous pounding in your head making you shiver.

It was just around noon now and you’d fought Javier over the phone, insisting you didn’t need a babysitter. He told you he’d head to your place on his lunch break, just to make sure you were okay. There was no stopping him, no amount of telling him off could change his mind.

He noticed it before he left this morning, the way you sat up a bit more in bed, eyes squeezed shut as you desperately tried to fall back asleep, telling him all he needed to know. But as soon as he offered to stay home with you another day, you pushed him away, rolling over on your side and just turning your back to him, literally. At the office he had to fight off the urge to call you every other minute, stomach in knots with worry. Was it normal to be that sick? He’d have to read up on some of those books Steve had been rambling about. Steve – that was the other thing, the tension was fucking horrid. He wouldn’t even look at Javier, just throw down the next folder on the desk. Javier was sick of it at this point, lighting yet another cigarette as he thought about how to go about this.

“I know we had.. words, but can we at least work together, like partners?”, he asked, puffing out a cloud of smoke.

“I’m sorry man, didn’t mean to be an ass, the girls just kept me up all weekend”, Steve sighed, reaching for the bottle of whiskey in the bottom drawer. “Con wouldn’t shut up.”

Javier shook his head slowly, taking another long drag of his cigarette. “I don’t fucking get them sometimes. One moment she’s practically begging me to stay with her and the next she’s just doing everything to get away from me.”

Steve quirked a brow at him. “Trouble in paradise? So soon?”

“I just want to check up on her, but she’s just so fucking stubborn”, he grunted, putting out the cig.

“Why don’t you take the paperwork home tonight, skip lunch so you can head home earlier.”

He looked at the phone, wondering if he should call to see if you needed him. “You’re probably right. She just drives me crazy man, in a good way, but still just crazy.”

His partner chuckled, knowing exactly what he was on about. He’d stay at the office another couple of hours and would bring the casefiles home.

A part of you had expected him to show up, a part of you really wanted him to be there, hands on your back, telling you it’d all be okay. You knew it wasn’t that big of a deal, just the morning sickness and headache kicking your ass as of right now. But you were too tired to deal with any of this, the dull aches of all your bruises and sore muscles not allowing you to get much sleep. You figured a warm shower would help, dragging yourself into the small bathroom, stripping yourself of your clammy and dirty clothes.

You put your hand under the stream, jerking it back when the water was ice cold. Shrugging a robe over your shoulders you sat down on the toilet seat, waiting for the water to heat up. It was well past one now, which meant any possibility of a lunchbreak visit was off the table. You got up again, only to find the same exact thing; freezing cold water. Not that you couldn’t take care of yourself, but you were no expert plumber. With a heavy sigh you made your way over to the landline in the living room, dialling up the landlord’s number, only to be met with his answering machine, over and over.

Desperate times call for desperate measures. You knew Connie worked parttime now, wanting to be home with Olivia more often, so you tested your luck and called the Murphy’s.

“Murphy.”

“Con, I’m sorry to bother you on your day off, but my shower broke and I’m all alone and I just feel so miserable and-“

“Shut up and get your ass over here”, she chuckled, Olivia babbling away in the back.

You smiled to yourself, already shrugging your robe off. “Dinner’s on me!”

A bag with a change of clothes and some snacks for the little one was all you brought with you. You had no trouble navigating through the busy streets and soon found yourself parking in front of the infamous apartment building. The days of sneaking out of the back entrance in the mornings were past you now. You sighed at the memory, feelings of guilt and shame now replaced by bliss and adoration. It wasn’t perfect, it didn’t have to be, but you were content.

The walk to Connie’s apartment seemed longer than ever. With shaky knees and heavy breaths you dragged yourself up the stairs, the elevator still out of order. You were lucky to have some friends here, it wasn’t often DEA agents had the privilege of keeping their friends from home, but Steve and Connie had made it abundantly clear that they were here to stay, Bogotá or not. They’d been there for you through the years as had you. You’d even been promoted to maid of honour at their wedding, and were put in charge of her hen party. The states were good times, but Colombia had been tougher on the three of you. While you and Steve had no problem leaving your families behind, Connie had proven to be rather close to her parents. That’s where you had come in, sweeping her out of her mellow state whenever she needed it to take her out into the city, dancing the night away. However, with you being pregnant and herself a new mother, it had become something of the past. Soon girls’ night would have a whole let alcohol and whole lot more diapers.

Connie opened up with a heartfelt smile, a giddy Olivia bouncing on her arm. “Towels are laid out for you, we’ll talk after.”

You smiled back at her, grateful for her understanding. She was the kind of friend that just had to take one look at you to know what was wrong and while it was really helpful sometimes, but God was it hard to keep a secret from that woman. It wasn’t hard to tell you were feeling like shit, your pale face and fading black eye were enough of an indicator. You kissed Olivia on the forehead, side-hugging Connie before heading to the bathroom.

With how tired you were, you didn’t even bother to conceal your injuries, even applying some loose powder had seemed too intense a task. You turned the water on, the warmth of it already fanning over your bare arms. When it hit your chest and stomach you let out a sigh of relief, the cold shivers finally faltering. You took your time, now that you weren’t on the verge of puking your guts out. You washed your hair twice, even conditioned it before moving on to the rest of your body, exfoliating and rinsing, just treating to yourself. By the time you wrapped the fluffy towels around yourself you were completely relaxed, ready to just hop into the bed and pass out for the day, but the wailing outside the door reminded you exactly where you were. You’d brought a long sweater, the evenings getting rather chilly mid-November. With half-dried hair and in some baggy jeans you stepped out of the bathroom, joining the two ladies on the couch.

“Thank you”, you muttered, slipping your hands around the cup of tea that was waiting for you on the coffee table.

“What’s got you down in the dumps?”, she asked, carefully sitting the baby down on the carpet.

You sighed, blowing at the hot drink. “I-I think it’s just registering now..”

She gave you a frown, scooting over a bit closer. “Do you regret it?”

The tears were burning in your eyes, a dull ache settling in the back of your throat as you tried to hold it together. “I’m terrified”, you breathed out.

That was your breaking point, the floodgates were open now and you were a sobbing mess as she wrapped her arms around you. “Oh hun, you should’ve called me”, she cooed.

While you and Connie talked about anything and everything, getting it all out, Javier was finishing up to go home early. Steve decided to stay back at the office, wanting “some damn peace and quiet”. With some casefiles in hand he left the embassy, stopping along the way to pick up one of your favourite snacks. Tonight would just be a slow night, he’d listen if you wanted to talk and if not he’d just work in silence. He really just wanted to have you close, so that he could personally ensure you were “fine”. He hated the way he’d left this morning, the way you were just curled up into yourself, shivering under the covers, but he didn’t want to get on your nerves, he was so scared to screw things up.

Treading up the steps to your apartment, he tried to think of something to say. He couldn’t help but feel guilty, you were sick because of his baby after all. Surely there was something he could think of. Your apartment was eerily calm when walked in, your heaps of blankets and pillows still there. He tiptoed his way over to the bedroom, heartbeat picking up a bit when he noticed you weren’t there either.

“Anyone home?”, he called out, checking the bathroom.

No reply. He scratched at his chin, contemplating what to do next. You did mention wanting to meet up with Connie over the weekend. Yeah, that seemed likely enough, no reason to panic (just yet). He sped his way back downstairs, panting due to all the climbing action and hopped in the car, heading for the other apartment complex. When he spotted your car he could breathe normally again, his worries somewhat soothed. His knock at the door was a loud, demanding one. Connie opened up once again, laying a finger on her lips so as to motion for him to be quiet. Javier stood there out of breath, nodding frantically before he stepped inside. And there you were, asleep on the couch with Olivia in your arms, a blanket sprawled out across the two of you.

He caught his breath, nodding at Connie as a way of saying thanks. She bumped her shoulder into his, smirking as she detected a hint of a smile on his lips. “She been here a while?”

“An hour or two. She came because your boiler broke, but turned out she really just needed to talk as well”, her voice was laced with a tone of sympathy as she nodded in your direction.

“Did she eat anything?”, he asked, not looking from you.

Connie shook her head. “We had some tea and then she fed the baby, they were both out soon after.”

They both chuckled at that, Javier planting his hands on his hips. “I’ll take her back to my place in a bit, so you can get some rest as well.”

“You’re always welcome, especially if she’s gonna put Liv asleep like that”, she joked, softly patting the man on the back.

“Is she err- is she okay though?” It was a dumb question, but he still felt compelled to ask it, counting on the fact that she was your best friend.

Now it was Connie’s turn to sigh, her head tilted as she answered him: “She’s really scared, just sit down and talk with her from time to time. I know it’s not your strong suit but she’s gonna need it.”

“Let me get my place cleaned up and I’ll come get her, sound good?”, he offered.

The blonde just nodded again. “Make sure to change those sheets, preferably not ones Freckles has seen.”

He flipped her the bird on the way out, heading down a floor to go clean up his own apartment. He hadn’t been there since you’d come back and honestly.. he preferred it that way. That apartment stood for everything he’d decided to give up on for you and he absolutely despised it. It was as if the small space was the embodiment of his bad persona, haunting him everywhere he went. But he found it too soon to discuss such heavy subjects and did not want to jeopardize his relationship for the life of him.

Even just opening the door brought back those feelings of disgust and self-hatred, but he tried to push past it as he made his way into the kitchen. He wetted a washcloth and laid it in the fridge, should your migraine come back. Next he made his way over to the couch, where he gathered all the old cigarettes and empty beer bottles, shoving them into a trash bag. Along the way he picked up the clothes scattered across the floor everywhere and found himself in the bedroom, ripping the sheets off the bed. You’d been complaining about being cold at night, putting your icy feet all over him. So he got out the thicker sheets, putting them on as neatly as he could. The bathroom was clean enough, so he decided to lay out some of his clothes for you to wear. He ran back down to get everything from his car and when he was ready he went back up to the Murphy’s place. You were still sound asleep, lips perked as Olivia’s hand held on to your thumb. Connie was in the kitchen chopping some greens.

“You here to steal her away now?”, she jested.

“I’m here to give you back your couch”, he retorted.

She carefully picked up the baby from your chest, peeling her little fingers of your thumb, which made you stir a bit. Javi took a knee by your side, pressing a tender peck to your temple before gently shaking your shoulder.

“Hermosa, it’s time to go home”, he whispered, caressing your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

You hummed a bit, not really giving away at his request. So he decided to slide his hands under your knees and neck, lifting you up off the couch himself. He’d expected some resistance but you really only nuzzled into his neck even more, his warmth and smell drawing you in. Connie held the door open, smiling at the two of you as he carried you out of the apartment and down the staircase. He mentally thanked himself for leaving that damn door unlocked, managing to open it with just his elbow. Once inside he laid you down on the couch, covering your chest with his jacket. You were slowly waking up again, he’d noticed, so delved into his cupboards, setting down a tray of cookies on the coffee table. He sat down in the armchair, grabbing the first folder of the stack.

You blinked a few times, feeling a bit confused as to what was going on, but as you found Javier sitting across from you, reading over something, deep in thought as he picked at his moustache, you didn’t really care.

“What time ‘s it?”, you mumbled, stretching your arms out over your head.

He closed the folder, leaning back in the chair as he looked at you. “Somewhere around five by now. Sleep okay?”

“Mhm, you’re back early”, you remarked, yawning as you sat up a bit more. “Should I be worried?”

He got up off the chair, plopping down next to you. “Just wanted to check up on you.”

You leaned in to kiss him, which he gladly reciprocated. “I meant to call.”

“Gave me a bit of a fright. Crazy girlfriend on the loose”, he taunted.

You poked him in the ribs, squinting your eyes at him. “I’m sorry about being snappy this morning”, you whispered.

He kissed you again, successfully shutting you up. “Want some dinner?”

“I’d love that actually”, you beamed pressing your lips to his.

“Eat some of those”, he suggested, pointing towards the tray on the table, “Quesadillas alright with you?”

You were chewing away at a cookie, covering your mouth as you gave him a thumbs up. He chuckled, getting up to start on your dinner as you sat back. “I’ll be there in a sec, Javi!”

The two of you had made dinner together, and taken it to the couch, where you fed him as he read out the details of the files. Due to your absence, you didn’t really know what had been going on with the cartel as of late. You sat there long after dinner was over, discussing the new developments regarding Pablo’s “surrender” it was absolutely ridiculous and the government was giving him exactly what he wanted.

“No point in getting so worked up over it, amor”, you purred into his ear.

He heaved out another heavy sigh as his eyes glazed over the paper yet again. “I just don’t understand how they accepted this, it’s a fucking set up.”

You took the papers from his hands, throwing them onto the coffee table with the rest of them, pushing him back against the couch. “Why don’t we do something else, huh, blow off some steam.”

“Are you sure you’re up for it, we don’t have to”, he assured you, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“Let me do something nice for you”, you tutted.

He shifted beneath you, eyes a couple shades darker already, laden with lust and want. “I-I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold back, hermosa, you’re playing a dangerous game.”

You knelt down in front of the couch, looking up at him with big, innocent eyes. “I’m well aware of what I’m getting myself into, agente Peña.”

Fuck – that little nickname, he felt himself twitch beneath his jeans, desperate for some friction. “Do. Not. Tease.” He gritted out, two fingers hooked under your chin to make you look up at him.

His belt came off first, the metal of the buckle hitting the carpeted floor with a thud. Four hands fumbling around with the waistband of his jeans. You giggled a bit at his eagerness, finally dragging the restrictive trousers down his legs. His tented briefs made you lick your lips, fingers hooking themselves into the elastic. “What do you need, baby?”

“Mouth, now, please”, he stammers out, chest already heaving with expectancy.

You wrap a hand around his throbbing members, squeezing it just the way he likes it. His head falls back against the pillow, mouth hanging open a bit. Ever so slowly you lick along his shaft, paying special attention to the dripping head. He lets out a guttural grunt, biting back another one as you engulf him with your warm mouth. Nothing – no-one ever did compare to you, the way you worked your tongue nothing short of entrancing.

He wouldn’t last, the delicious pull and shove of your mouth and hands had him hurling towards his orgasm. He’d dreamt about it, seeing you down on your knees, just for him, just to please him. Fuck, it was so hot, even better than he’d imagined. He balled his fists, trying to resist the urge to manipulate your head with them. On the verge of his release, he flinched, grabbing a hold of your arm.

“Espera, para, para, para..”, he called out.

You leaned back on your heels, lips glistening with your dribble. He leaned forward, rubbing your chin and helping you up. “Something wrong?”, you asked with a slight frown.

“I want to fuck you”, he growled, practically ripping your sweater off of you.

His mouth latched onto your heavy breasts, eliciting a sweet moan from your throat. “Be-bedroom”, you whined, grip on his biceps tightening.

He tapped, your thighs, imploring you to jump up. Your legs wrapped themselves around his hips as his hands squeezed your ass. The journey to the bedroom was a passionate one, you swallowed his grunts as you merged your lips with his again, fingers tangling in his dark brown hair. He dropped you on the bed, immediately following suit, sucking and biting at that one spot on your neck. You gasped at the sensation, fumbling around with the button on your own jeans as he made his way down to your chest. One of his hands slid down to help you, the other supporting his weight next to your face. His tongue swirled around your nipple, making you arch into him.

“Tan ansiosa”, he hisses as he feels your jeans rub up against his erection. (So eager.)

You shoved your jeans down your thighs, rolling him onto his back to get them off all the way. With your panties still in place you went to straddle his lap. He quirked a suggestive brow at you, moving up against the headboard to sit up a bit more straight.

“You sure about this?”, he asks, mouth pressed against the nape of your neck.

You grab his face in both your hands, sliding your tongue across his bottom lip. “Paciencia, agente Peña.”

He gasps as you grab a hold of his cock, pumping a few times before sliding your panties to the side and sinking down. You rest your forehead against his, hissing as he bottoms out. He gripped at your ass, squeezing to keep himself contained. He loved having you on top, but seeing how long it had been since he’d gotten the chance to be this close to you, he was hungry for more.

“Move”, he demanded, one of his hands smacking your behind.

You let out a loud moan at the sensation and slowly started circling your hips. He watched you through hooded lids, head thrown back with that beautiful neck on full display. He started sucking there, making sure to leave his mark as you sped up your movements.

“F-feels so good”, you whimpered, bracing yourself on his chest.

He smirked against your skin, hands moving up to cup and play with your breasts. It was pure paradise, the fine line between pain and pleasure driving you completely insane. Your mind was ridden of any thoughts, there was only this, you and him, loving on one another. He noticed your panting and jerky movements, you were getting close. Pure lust made him do it, flipping you over so he was towering over you, still sheathed in your deliciously warm heat. He felt like he was on fire when he looked at you, cheeks flushed and glowing, biting on your lip as you touched yourself.

“Mírame”, you opened your eyes, his thrusts becoming harder and faster, “I want you to see what you do to me.”

You whimpered at his words, fighting off the incite to screw your eyes shut. It was then that he hit that spot inside you, making you cry out his name. His hands found yours, holding on to them as he rocked into you, hips smacking against yours. You couldn’t help yourself and let out a string of high-pitched moans as he embedded himself even deeper.

“I-I..”

“I got you, me too baby, me too”, he reassured you, giving a curt nod.

You nearly screamed when you hit your peak, clutching onto his shoulders as you arched up off the bed. Your nails digging into his back was all he needed, he grunted out your name as he filled you up, catching himself before he collapsed. The two of you laid beside each other, breathing heavily, one pair of hands still entangled. You felt like you’d been hit by a train, sheer exhaustion washing over you.

“Stay here”, he whispered, pecking your cheek.

He came back with a towel and washcloth, sitting down on the edge of the bed as he carefully cleaned you up. You just sleepily smiled at him, stroking your thumb back and forth over his knee.

“That was fun”, you murmured.

He huffed out a laugh, looking down at you while he slid your panties off. “Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head, sighing contently as he tucked the covers over your torso. “You were perfect, Javi.”

It was his turn to smile, resting a hand on your side. “We can stay here until your shower gets fixed”, he proposed.

“Thank you. I’ll call again tomorrow, I just want to lay in your arms for a bit”, you whispered.

He walked over to the other side of the bed, barely laid down before you curled up against his side.

Perfect – he thought – she thinks I am perfect.

Taglist: @pedritomando @peterhollandkait @ophelia-ingenue @radiowallet @phoenixhalliwell @diogodxlot @rosiefridayrogersunday @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @asta-lily

#illicit limerence #javier peña x reader #javier pena #narcos #pedro pascal #imagine

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Note

"you're not helping..."

CW: Teenage OCs (Izzy is 17, Jamie is 14), children of whumper and whumpee, trauma response, referenced past captivity with parental whumper/child abuse but the references are vague

Jax Gallager (referenced) belongs to @comfy-whumpee

Izzy is seventeen years old when she grabs the post to bring it inside on her way in after school and comes to a sudden stop just outside the door, staring down at the envelope, battered and beaten after its long journey not just across a country but over an ocean and through customs, too.

Her little brother Jamie very nearly walks into her, lost in his own game on his phone, and he just barely swings to the side to avoid her. “Iz!” When she doesn’t react, he pauses. He’s taller than she is already, and sure to be even taller before he’s done growing.

Where Izzy is all skinny knees and sharp elbows, her brother has the sort of bulk that’ll turn to muscle with time. He’s a gentle sort of giant, and it’s concern and not annoyance that shifts in his expression as he reads the wide-eyed stare in hers. “Izzy? What’s up?”

Izzy swallows, her throat clicking so loud she’s surprised the flock of birds lurking in the gutters and on the roof of the place next door don’t take off startled by the sound. She can’t, for a moment, remember how to speak.

She can’t remember how to breathe.

She just holds the card out for Jamie to look at as heat burns behind her eyes, her heart racing. She feels inside her the absurd urge to be polite and sweet and well-mannered. To somehow try to ensure safety in an unsafe space.

But she’s not there anymore.

She’s not there. She’s here.

And still...

Jamie takes the envelope slowly, looking over it himself, his lips moving as he reads the return address. Then he pales, lips thinning. “How-”

“I don’t know,” Izzy whispers. “She’s not supposed to know where we live, Jamie. She-... she’s n-not allowed, but that’s... that’s her handwriting, that’s-... she isn’t supposed to know-”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Iz.” Jamie glances towards the door - Jax is inside, and he’ll know if they’re more than ten minutes late either way, he’ll be looking at the clock and thinking about their safety, worrying over them the way Izzy worries over everything, too. “Look, hide it and we’ll look at it in your room, yeah? I’ll handle Dad.”

She nods, a jerky sort of motion, but she stuffs the envelope into her school bag and the two of them head inside. Izzy blames a headache for being quiet and if their dad suspects, he doesn’t say anything, just lets her go to lie down in her room. Jamie takes more time, talking about his day, getting something to eat and drink.

His skin prickles with impatience, with the need to go look. Izzy’s terror doesn’t translate to him - he mostly feels curious about the woman who makes up half his genes, who he has no memory of at all. Curious, and angry on behalf of a father and sister who struggle with what she did to them. Maybe a little angry that this shadowy woman built the boundaries of his life and made the fears that keep his father and sister up at night, and he doesn’t even remember her.

Plus, he doesn’t want Izzy to be scared alone. That’s been their deal his whole life, their agreement - Izzy doesn’t have to be scared alone. They’re scared together, and brave together.

His lips move in memorized words like a prayer as he heads down the hall. He’s been prepared for them to have to be brave together his entire life, urged on by Izzy’s careful planning, the go-bags they still keep hidden from their fathers, just in case.

My name is James Timothy Gallagher and my sister is Isabella Nicole Gallagher...

Please don’t let this be something like that.

She’s not on the bed when he comes in with a bag of crisps and some water. He finds her pushed against the wall under a blanket between the bed and her desk with a flashlight, still staring at the writing on the envelope.

“Someone e-else wrote the address,” She says when Jamie pulls up the edge of the blanket and sits beside her, squeezing into the tiny space as best he can. Her voice is shaking and her eyes are red-rimmed but dry. “Not M-Mom. She wrote my name, but... but that’s it. Oh, God, she started writing Isabella M-Marcoset and had to cross it out-”

“Bint,” Jamie says amiably. “Everything’s Gallagher now. But there you go.” He nudges her with an elbow. “She doesn’t know where we are, still, right? Someone else wrote it for her.”

“That’s n-not helping,” Izzy says, and sniffs. “That means someone helped her send it, someone who does know, someone w-who-... I can’t. I can’t look.”

“Probably her lawyers or something, they’d have our address I guess. If we tell Dad he’ll rip them to shreds over it, you know his lawyer chews them up for breakfast. If you can’t look, I can.” Jamie takes the envelope from her before she can stop him and tears it open, casually ripping half the envelope apart to get to what’s inside.

When he finds it, he blinks. “What the fuck?”

“Don’t let Dad hear y-you say that,” Izzy says automatically, with a weak smile.

“Like he’s one to say much. I think you mean don’t let Kie hear me say that.” Jamie’s eyes roam over the contents of the envelope. “Iz, this is a card for you.”

Izzy looks slowly over, peering through her fingers.

On the front, it’s pastel pink bordering a black-and-white print of a child’s chubby hand against a polka-dot dress.

It’s okay to miss your mom, the outside of the card reads.

Izzy’s lips pull back from her teeth in a snarl.

Jamie opens the card to read what’s inside, in his soft voice. He might look more like the Marcoset side than his sister does, but his voice is nearly indistinguishable from his father’s when he speaks softly like this. “... Because she sure misses you. Though we've grown apart, I really do miss you. I remember my sweet little girl on her special day. Happy birthday, Isabella. And she wrote in here her prison address to write back. Tell me about you. Love, Mom.”

He sits there for a second in silence and then says, slightly dumbfounded, “Well, shit.”

Izzy starts to cry, hands pressed over her mouth to keep it silent.

The tears run in a waterfall, burying themselves in the minute space between hands and skin. She tastes salt at the corners of her lips. Jamie slides an arm around her shoulders and pulls her close, pressing a kiss to her chopped-short hair, starting to slowly grow out on one side.

“Oh, Iz. D’you want me to get Dad?”

She shakes her head viciously, little hitched sobs and half-sounds coming from her and little more. Even if Jax had his ear pressed to her door, he wouldn’t hear her, Jamie thinks. His big sister learned how to cry silently, to keep herself safe by not doing anything to bring her mother’s attention on her.

She knew how to be silent out of fear before she learned how to speak in full sentences. Jamie heard someone say that, once, he can’t remember who. He wasn’t supposed to hear it.

They tried not to let him see how hurt she was, but Jamie has always known his sister was shattered and he wasn’t, and he’s always felt like he has to be the one who stays whole for her.

“Please, Iz. He’ll know what to say. I, I don’t know what to do-”

“It’s not my birthday.”

Her words are muffled behind her hands at first, and so quiet he nearly misses them even in the stuffy silence under the blanket.

“What?”

“The-... the c-card said happy birthday, but my birthday was... was seven m-months ago.” Izzy’s tears turn to bitter, cynical laughter, no less worrying than the crying had been, still nearly soundless. “She doesn’t even know when my fucking b-birthday is. You’d think since s-s-she’s the one who fucking made me-... oh, my God. She doesn’t even know my birthday.”

“No, I-... I guess she... doesn’t.” Jamie opens the card again to look it over. He hadn’t even thought about that, but now looking, he can’t help but start to laugh, too. “Iz, why’d she-... she could have just asked someone when your birthday was, it’d be in the court stuff, right? Birth certificate and shit?”

“Right. She wouldn’t want people to kn-know she didn’t remember. Or she just didn’t care.” Izzy’s shoulders shake, now, laughter or tears or both. “She doesn’t want to know me, she can’t even bother to know my fucking birthday. She’ll just-”

“Ask about Dad,” Jamie whispers.

“Right.” Izzy stares down at the card, then hands Jamie the flashlight and takes the card right out of Jamie’s hands and tears it right down the center, then again, and again, and again. The sound of the thick cardstock paper shredding is the loudest sound in the room.

“She doesn’t fucking know me, she doesn’t know anything about me, she doesn’t know she doesn’t know me and she doesn’t even fucking want to try-”

Finally, when all that’s left is a scattering of little bits of paper with the occasional visible word, like the world’s most irritating puzzle, Izzy shoves the blanket off entirely, picks up the pile in both hands and throws it up into the air, giving another bitter laugh as the pieces float down like confetti.

“She can’t even be scary right,” Izzy declares, and Jamie watches his big sister force down her fear to mock the monster under the bed, the nightmare mother who never quite leaves her mind. “That’s how awful Mom is. Even when she’s trying to scare me, she can’t do it r-right.”

“I don’t think she meant to be scary,” Jamie says, a little hesitantly. “I think that was her trying to be our mam and fucking that up.”

“Well, she’s not a mam, is she? She’s not. She’s a fucking... she’s... Fuck her!” Izzy sweeps up the scattered bits of card and dumps them into the little bin she keeps by her bed, covers them with some tissues to hide them from anyone who might see.

She turns to look at Jamie. “Don’t tell Dad, okay? He doesn’t need to know about this.”

“Iz...” Jamie stands and reaches out to pluck a piece of card that had gotten stuck in her hair. There’s a clearly recognizable Isab- visible on it. “You should tell him.”

“But you won’t.” Izzy’s eyes search his, looking up at her younger brother. They’ve always trusted each other, been each other’s backup more than anyone else, in the way of children who know they might have to keep each other safe when adults can’t. “Promise, Jamie. Promise you won’t tell Dad.”

“I promise,” Jamie says, uneasily. “I won’t tell, Iz. But you still should. Or at least tell therapy, or... something. Not just sit on this like it didn’t happen.”

Izzy doesn’t say anything either way, half-chasing him from her room so she can duck into the little bathroom and wash her face, wiping away the evidence of her tears, leaving only the hint of red in the corners of her eyes to give her away.

She comes out and blames it on her headache, promises Jax she’s taken something for it, disappears back into her room. He can’t tell if Jax believes her - their dad is hard to read sometimes. But... Jamie thinks maybe he knows something’s up.

Jamie settles down to play his game on his phone a while longer in the living room, and he wonders if she’s in there digging the pieces of the card back out to put in the box under her bed she thinks nobody else knows about.

But he knows.

He’s seen the CD cases, printed out photos from old interviews, an old magazine she’d nicked from a hair place after getting her hair cut once. Their mother’s face again and again and again, younger or older, in prison and before prison and between prison, too.

The monster literally under the bed.

He should tell Jax, probably. It can’t be healthy, to keep all those things. Right? But he can’t bring himself to break her trust, when Izzy trusts almost nothing and no one outside her own home. He can’t be the one to wreck even that for her.

He can’t.

He promised.

Jamie glares down at his game, the little tinny sound coming from his phone’s speakers, a repetitive melody, the soft sound of explosions.

He should tell Jax.

He should tell Kieran, maybe.

But he swore he wouldn’t, and they’ve always been there for each other even when no one else could be, and so Jamie doesn’t tell anyone at all.

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @burtlederp @wildfaewhump @moose-teeth @orchidscript @sableflynn @raigash @whumptywhumpdump @eatyourdamnpears @pretty-face-breaker

#izzy fucking gallagher #jamie gallagher #I love Jax #comfy-whumpee #trauma response tw #trauma recovery tw #recovery whump #recovering whumpee #fear response tw #familial whumper #parental whumper #child of whumpee #panic response tw #whump #caretaker and whumpee

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yeojaa · 3 years

Note

Can I request more smut for A&A couple?? I love sexy jay and jinny RYFUIOOIDEWETYUKOJK

[ read angels & airwaves ]

pairing. jjk x f!reader. rating. explicit. tags. gamer!jjk deserves his own warning. but also cockwarming and a gross amount of love between these two. wc. 1.5k. beta reader. @hobi-gif because she is the pb to my j. author note. this is probably less sexy and more soft, but i hope you enjoy and i’m sorry it’s so late! ✨

He’s playing Overwatch - unwinding after a long day, dressed down in sweats and little else - when his chair starts rolling back, pulled by an invisible hand. (Luckily, he’s only in queue, not yet matched into a game. It’s easy for him to leave, exit out of the waiting screen as he continues his journey away from the desk, releasing his hold on his mouse, letting his keyboard hand fall into his lap.) Feigned surprise trips across his expression, a subtle widening of his eyes, the softest hm? slipping like sandman’s dust from his lips.

“Play with me,” you say in that way of yours, deceivingly sweet, lilting like the chorus of his favourite song. (He thinks that’s what you’d be if you were anything else, played over and over in his thoughts, quiet in the background of his everyday life. A kind reminder of your love, of your giggles and that cheekiness you offer in spades. A heartfelt melody in A minor.)

(Jungkook wants to write something for you - because of you - he realises. Of course he does.)

He echoes your words back, pairs it with a quirked brow and a sing-song laugh that makes his eyes crinkle, long grooves dug into the bridge of his nose. Sunshine pours between his teeth, lights up his entire face. “You wanna play?”

Your answer is a shake of your head, freeing tousled strands from the haphazard bun you wear - the one that goes up any time you’re half-asleep (or gaming or simply too lazy to do anything else) - too many pieces askew to be sophisticated. (It’s cute still, one of his favourite looks on you. Messy, sleep-addled, real.)

“I want you to play.” The way you enunciate, throw heavy meaning into your words has him curious, chin canting when you round the chair, step to the side and brush a delicate hand through his crown of curls. You push velvet away from his face, tuck it neatly behind his ear and smile so prettily he swears his heart might leap out of his chest. The same hand falls over his with meaning, your own eyes the size of saucers. Were you trying to communicate as if you were psychic? He thinks you must be when you stare for longer than you need to, mouth pulling and pursing adorably, a wavering wall against whatever you want to offer but won’t.

When he relents, it’s with his hand curled around your wrist and a gentle tug of you closer. (Because he always wants you closer.) “Let’s play then.”

It takes you no time at all to settle into his lap, legs dangling around the back of his gaming chair, arms locked around his neck. He imagines it isn’t the most comfortable position in the world but, well, Jungkook’s not going to complain that his girlfriend wants to cuddle. Can’t even fathom the thought when you’re so warm and your weight feels like some sort of top-tier blanket.

“Good?”

You simply nod into the small of his neck, cheek cold against his shoulder. Maybe you’re just tired. You haven’t been sleeping well the last few nights, if you could even call it that. They were more midday cat naps, laid up in his arms on his free days.

(Don’t worry, you’d said. He did, anyway.)

When he wins his next three games, he thinks you might be a lucky charm - his own personal blessing, all his good karma offered in the form of victory. The headshots are clean, the flashbang-right-click combos flawless. Gold damage is his the entire time; he’s racking up gold medals left and right with you there with him.

(It’s almost as good as when you play together, your damage boost enabling him to obliterate the enemy without worry. Granted, the Mercy on his team isn’t bad either - but she’s no you. Not the girl that makes his heart pitter patter in his chest, play some silly crescendo that feels like a sugar high.)

But then he begins losing, missing shots that should be easy, sends them into the dark, strangely distracted. He doesn’t realise by what until it’s too late and the next roll of your hips makes him whine, the sound tripping off his tongue in a whimper.

“Angel.” The word is practically choked out, broken despite being only two syllables. You’re still snuggled into his chest, seemingly innocent, unaware of the tension that grows, turning bone to brimstone. He’s half-worried he’s getting riled up over nothing - turned on by only your closeness - when he feels the damp of your teeth, the sharp edge tickling over muscle. For what it is, it shouldn’t flood his stomach with heat, have electricity tracking up his spine as if struck by lightning. “What’re you doing?”

“Play with me.” You repeat the words into his hair, thread them between the midnight strands as you stamp a sweet, chaste kiss right below his ear. He thinks he might be able to resist you - until you’re tugging lightly at one of the silver hoops that line his ear, laving your tongue over the sensitive spot that has him seeing stars.

He parrots the words back to you but it isn’t a question this time. More a promise, tenderness turning his smile soft, needy, utterly in love.

“Let’s go to bed.” Not because it’s late - though it is, half past two in the morning now - but because he wants to feel you wholly, watch you fall apart in the comfort of your bed. No more distractions, just the two of you. Just how he likes it.

“No.” That surprises him, throwing him off his axis. He’s halfway to a pout when you press a kiss, steal his brattiness away with one sweep of your lemon-lined mouth. “You keep playing.”

Oh.

The time you take to slide his sweats down - taking his boxers with them, fingers hooked into the black band that hugs his hips - should be criminal. It’s as if you’re doing it on purpose, tugging the material down carefully, balanced above him by his hands on your waist.

(He steals the softest touches while you’re there, thumbs grazing the undersides of your breasts, fingers laying themselves into the rungs of your ribs.)

When they’re halfway down his legs, he kicks them off, lets them gather in a pile somewhere by his feet. Forgotten - because he’s got much more important matters to attend to. “Your turn,” he hums - almost begs - when you settle back against him, straddling him as you had before, still dressed in his favourite grey shirt and your plain black thong.

“Nope.” You’re smiling down at him, more devil than angel, smile so sinful he feels his cock twitch against his stomach, hard and leaking pre-cum from the tip.

“But—”

The turn of your head further dislodges strands, has shadow throwing your features into muted light. That’s not what has his attention, though.

It’s your hand dipping between you, curling light around his length. Pad of your thumb massaging over his head, slicking arousal until the glide is easy. With a gun to his head, Jungkook couldn’t help himself from moaning, a keening sound that tickles your cheek and has heat flooding his own. (You’ll be the death of him, he swears.) “Baby, please—”

“Play,” you repeat.

He does, rolling himself forward, finding his mouse and keyboard with trembling hands.

It’s cruel, what you’re doing. (It’s also everything he could ask for, offered by the hand of the girl he loves most. Even through the haze of desire, there’s affection that paints him pink, lights him up like a Christmas tree.)

(All he wants to do is fill you, fuck you full until you’re coming apart, crying his name out in that breathy way that drives him wild. Playing his favourite song again again again.)

But he’s a good boy for you - always is - so he says nothing as he queues once more, tries his damnedest not to make a sound when he feels the press of his cock against your cunt, the heat that engulfs him when you take him in one fluid motion.

It’s as if his brain short circuits, as if you’ve rewritten all the code that makes him who he is. He chokes a sound - a whine, a laugh, a cry - when you sink fully into him, curl those arms back around his neck. You’re absolutely perfect, wet and warm. Split wide open by how deep he is, clit flush against his pelvis, velvet walls yielding to the fullness.

Whether he wins or loses his next games, Jungkook doesn’t care. He’s already got everything he could ask for.

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle

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tuagonia · 3 years

Text

mistletoe - adam du mortain x f! detective

Pairing: Adam du Mortain x f!detective Summary: The detective catches an unsuspecting Adam under the mistletoe during the division’s holiday party. Rating: G/T (to be sure).Pretty tame, just fluff. Warning: alcohol mention. Word Count: 2.3k Note: I just really really wanted to write this scene that cropped up in my head during a f u n bout of insomnia. I’d like to think this takes place teetering on the edge right before the deep romance sweeps these two fools away. Anyway i used this fic as a way to get over my fear of writing for twc and to get to know my detective... before i launch into the other ideas i have.

—

It’s not that she’s drunk.

No. Not drunk.

Happy, most definitely, and loquacious. More than the usual amount of conversation that he’s used to. And more laughter.

Definitely more laughter.

It’s an unrefined, rough, pitched-at-the-end sound he’s grown used to (fond of?) over the last year.

Where the more uncouth the subject... the more untamed it becomes, and fighting the stiff edges of his mouth to remain in place becomes an active task.

There’s something so unsuspecting about it too, like how everything concerning her has been up to now.

Olivia dances with Felix and Nate, and his oldest friend attempts to teach her how to move with the steps that feel like a lifetime ago. Where her shoulders, ankles, hips twist and she turns on the spot.

She sways with the motions of days gone past, as if she’s caught time in her hands — the elixir to it in her mug of wine clasped firmly in her grip — and Nate praises her.

Adam didn’t catch the name, he didn’t care for it six decades ago and he doesn’t think he’ll bother remembering it now. But he’s certain it’s something as ridiculous sounding as it looks... if she weren’t doing it surprising justice.

When she spins in Felix’s arms, the silver, sparkling discs of her dress catch in the station’s white light and he’s dazzled...more than he usually already is.

No. Not drunk.

Just happy.

In the handful of instances she stops by him during her social rounds, she asks if he wants anything -- a refill of the uninspiring wine? -- and his responses are short. Yes. No. Good. Hmm. And when he doesn’t have the words he manages a slight shake of his head or a passive shrug.

Too distracted by the smile on her face, the mischief he can see twinkling behind her eyes. Sometimes, he can believe it. That she was a troublemaker, up to no good with too much time on her hands, and not this...woman...this decorous facade of pencil skirts, unscuffed heels, and neatly ironed blouses.

He can hear it in the deep, unearthed tone she takes when she lands a passing, unassuming, coquettish comment.

The reason he keeps his answers mono-syllabic.

He watches as she hovers over the snack table, where the food has undoubtedly gone cold, compiling a paper plate of random assortments and grabbing a tin of soda. And when he can no longer see her, he follows the sound of her heels out of the main floor towards the entrance -- barely visible from the wall he’s been hugging all night.

Olivia places the plate on the officer’s desk currently on graveyard duty. He's been longingly listening to and watching the party taking place just a few steps away. But he thanks the detective kindly, playfully clinks tin against mug of wine.

She meets his eye on the way back -- brief, ever so brief -- before turning her gaze downward.

“You should come,” she said, directing her attention to the rest of the group. She avoided his stare, almost always avoiding his stare when it came to matters of bypassing his jurisdiction. But flitted reflexively to him, and then swivelled back to Nate and Felix (briefly over Mason), and she repeated. “All of you. You’re practically honourary members of the division.”

And although she didn’t say it to him, Adam knows (hopes?) she expected him to answer the invitation.

Earlier in the evening (much earlier because how long is this going to go on for?), Nate asks him if he’s enjoying himself and Adam muddles together a gruff answer.

His response, with the words “work commitment” hardly audible, prompts bark-like laughter from the second-in-command and claps him on the shoulder before heading back towards the crowd.

At the end of the night, which finally arrives right when Adam decides he can’t take another rendition of the tracklist that’s been on loop for the past four hours, he stays behind to help the detective clean up.

He sends the rest of the unit home, much to Mason’s relief and much to Felix’s displeasure, and volunteers to make sure the detective catches her cab and gets home safely.

Or, at least, that’s what he tells himself after Felix winks at him, corralled out of the station by Nate.

And then they’re alone... save for the officer who’s gone on his break.

She moves about space, clearing paper cups and forgotten plates of food in a large garbage bag. And she talks, and talks, and talks.

Adam loses track of what exactly, he’s just too busy listening to the quality of her voice. A little hoarse after all the chatting over the music and enthusiastic laughter. It gives it a new edge, one he could grow to like -- the sudden deep, tender quality of it.

Definitely not drunk as she launches into a spiel about something or other Nate taught her last week.

She tends to do this, jabber on about absolutely nothing in particular when it’s just the two of them. And although he prefers silence, he welcomes it. Because sometimes she’s not actually talking to him, instead using the stoic agent’s still presence to bounce ideas off of.

Not like he minds.

He’ll be whatever she needs him to be.

Adam tenses, unaware of where the thought could have surfaced out of so easily. He shocks himself out of his trance, out of following the detective around the room with soft, measured steps. Out of the unconscious non-committal noises he punctuates breaks in her speech with.

He stops just short of the doorway of the kitchenette.

Olivia turns to face him after dumping a number of coffee cups in the sink. She quirks an eyebrow, wiping her hands in a tea towel before casting it aside. Her mouth opens, but whatever witty remark she has ready dies in her throat.

Adam can’t decipher the zoetrope of emotions that flicker then disappear, hiding and lurking behind a wily smile. Her mouth is the colour of wild berries, purples and reds, and the crisp jasmine notes in her perfume remind him of a frosty mid-afternoon -- low winter sun in his eyes as he wades through a forest.

He can’t look right at her.

Gleaming winks of silver, a peek of white teeth, and a twinkle behind a dark curtain of hair.

“What?”

He can scarcely recognise his voice, mostly a husky and unexpected croak.

A full view of pearly teeth and the stretch of Mondeuse Blanche shiraz-coloured lips.

Adam almost misses the throw-away manner she points a finger up in the space in between them. For a fraction of a second, he’s distracted from the sudden kick of her heart and flickers his gaze to where she’s directing him.

Obnoxious oval-shaped gold leaves, thickly crowded plastic branches, and pearly-coloured fake berries hover in the space he’s decidedly placed between them. His stomach lurches in immediate recognition of the artificial plant.

“Mistletoe,” she chuckles an airy sort of sound. Different from all the crass, rough gleeful noises she made all night.

A sound, maybe, she might wield against his sanity?

Adam’s gone rigid, the heat he’s been staving off all night makes a mockery of him, only egged on by the tugging of her lips when he glances back down at her.

She steps closer and he can’t react fast enough, genetic mutations damned under her vexatious gaze. Her heart thumps a little heavier, a chaotically determined sound he can’t fend off.

His own heart starts up that racket he’s grown to call reckless.

“I heard,” she begins, so close now he can see the little scar on her nose from an old piercing. Tannin, oak, and jasmines -- the sparkling and sweet scent of violet from her lipstick, “that it’s bad luck...to refuse a kiss under the mistletoe.”

The click of the ‘k’ and the hiss of the ‘s’ in that word hanging so heavy in the air, the breath of its remnants brush his cheek. Faintly, his mind wanders between two realms. One of old wives tales and superstitions where a kiss is required for every berry in the bunch and, the second, how, if it weren’t for those heels, where would that breath have landed instead?

Her sly grin is tickled by his lack of response, the stiffness creeping into his muscles and his conflicted expression.

“Commanding Agent, do you -- maybe -- want to help me…” she begins, another step closer and this time he doesn't think he wants to move, “fight off any unnecessary misfortunes?”

Adam doesn’t recognise himself. He doesn’t know where it comes from, or how he’s sanctioned the movement of his body. It’s minimal, but to Olivia, who has spent the last year fighting off the hunger from the nearly nonexistent mementoes, it’s colossal.

The smug smile on her face nearly slips.

It’s the tiniest, faintest, barely discernible half-nod as his gaze refuses to leave the curve of her lower lip. Fuller, rounder... he’s thought of the seam of her mouth longer than he’d like to dwell on.

She moves forward and there are no thoughts just the drumming in his chest that pounds a deafening beat. Her hand finds his first, a comfort from the heat roaring inside him, and he responds by tracing the lines of her palms with jittery fingertips.

Olivia shivers and why does that thrill him? He wonders how long until she decides to put him out of his misery.

Please. Please. Please. The thumping against his ribcage wants to meet the erratic pulse of hers.

Roused by his response, her other hand so warm and soft draws a curious path up his arm, over the swell of his bicep and past his shoulder before it hesitates to fully press at the back of his neck where he knows she can feel fevered skin.

It takes her an eternity, staring up at him with hooded eyes, dark fluttering eyelashes almost touching the tops of her cheeks. And he’d wait until whatever comes after that eternity.

This is the closest she’s ever been to him and he can’t help but revere the details he once took for granted.

Olivia rises and the hand behind his neck cautiously coaxes him to meet her.

And then, right as he thinks the world beneath his feet as he knows it will be thrown off its axis, she tilts her head a fraction and the hot press of her mouth meets his blushing cheek instead.

She lingers and everything amplifies.

She is a dizzying bottle of Chianti, left out in the sun too long, and warming him all the way down with each indulgent sip.

A field of blooming shrubs of jasmines.

Warm, brisk, spring morning sun.

He hears her deeply inhale, and does he have the same effect on her like she does on him?

His heightened senses register the moment she parts and moves away, suddenly cold and left with the weight of the cream of her lipstick.

Her touch is deliberate, soaking up the feel of his skin, the fine hairs at his nape, under her gliding palms -- and she settles back on her heels.

The imprint of her lips remains on his cheek, willing it to singe him -- mark him -- so he never has to forget what they feel like. The pressure of her mouth, the moment her breath shuddered.

Olivia makes to touch his cheek, to wipe away all evidence with the sweep of her thumb, but Adam stops her. He catches her wrist with reflexes she’ll never get used to.

He closes his eyes and he tunes in to the demanding call of his heart, thundering, thundering, thundering. And it won’t still.

Just a moment longer.

Is what it would ask.

Just a moment longer, so he can memorise the feel of her mark on his skin -- of the instance she cherished him, made room for him, during a fleeting blip that will be her life.

Olivia moves again, fighting against the gentle strength of his hand, and she rubs the pad of her thumb once, twice, three times. Until the smudge of her affection is reduced to a memory.

She smiles, unlike the smiles she shared earlier. There is no arrogance, no teasing, no playful ridicule.

She smiles -- with those lips that have touched him.

A sharp ringing echoes in the tiny kitchenette and, like he’s waking from a deep sleep, he blinks away the haze of their bewitchment.

As if nothing happened, Olivia digs into her purse, sources her mobile and answers. The conversation is brief, he doesn’t follow any of it, still reeling from her magnetism.

“My cab’s outside,” she says when she hangs up.

Still paralyzed, Olivia meets his eye and grins, before she drops her gaze to the floor.

She shakes her head and releases a small, anxious laugh. She touches his arm when she moves past him, out of the kitchenette, and heads for the exit.

He watches her leave, listening to the light click-clack of heels, still shaking her head and-- he practically hears the smile in her voice when she calls out behind her.

“Happy holidays, Commanding Agent du Mortain.”

Note II: Yeah, it’s The Twist. Nate was teaching Felix and Olivia the twist....because I said so and because i hc N being really into the 60s/70s music scene....long legs.....in....flared....jeans. So many typos. But if I didn’t post it when I did I was never going to post it.

#the wayhaven chronicles #a du mortain #adam du mortain #adam du mortain x detective #i wrote this in a haze of sleep deprivation ...bone smack the teeth #writing #y’all see typos you look away I’m too fra jeel e.#the amount of #repetition is astounding lol okay I’m done rereading before I go 🍌#I really loved an italicized word huh #tuagonia writes twc

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sfb123 · 3 years

Text

Sapere Aude - Part 4

Book: The Royal Heir

Pairing: King Liam Rys x Queen Riley Brooks

I introduce one original character in this chapter, all characters belong to Pixelberry.

Catch Up Here

Series Description: I developed a theory of what I think will happen in TRH Book 4, and I was encouraged by some very lovely people to turn my theory into a fic, so here it is. Basically, Riley is recruited to join the Via Imperii, this series will follow her as she joins them to try and bring them down from the inside, and all of the drama and bombshells she learns along the way. Sapere Aude is Latin for “dare to know” it seemed like an appropriate title.

Rating: PG-13 Adult language, allusions to smut (but nothing graphic), discussions of death, conspiracy, blackmail, and other adult themes.

Warning: The Royal Heir Book 3 Spoilers all over the place.

Word Count: 2,954

Notes: My only real note for this one is to make sure you’re sitting down. Other than that, enjoy!

As always, one love to my pre-readers @texaskitten30 & @txemrn (who is also always down to hear my crazy ideas, thanks for fact checking references to books I didn’t read!). And thank you @twinkleallnight for my moodboard!

Tags: My tag list is below. If you would like to be added or removed, just let me know!

“Mommy, I don’t want to go to my lessons today. Can’t we play instead?” Eleanor pouted and threw her shoe across the room.

“Baby girl, you need to go to your lessons, and mommy and daddy have to go to work.” Riley knelt down to her daughter’s level and brought her in for a hug. “I know sometimes lessons can be boring, but I promise if you’re a good girl, we can talk daddy into a game of maze tag when you’re done.”

“Pinky promise?” Eleanor pulled out of the hug with a hopeful look in her eyes.

Riley lifted her hand, pinky extended, and moved it toward Eleanor. The princess did the same and linked her pinky with her mother’s. They each kissed their thumbs before separating. “Now go get that shoe, Thomas is waiting outside to walk you downstairs.”

Thomas had been a member of the King’s Guard for a few years. He had been mostly tasked with general details, and would regularly accompany the family when they required extra security for their outings. It was during those outings where Liam and Riley saw how good Thomas was with Eleanor. He was able to take the parts of a public life that would seem terrifying for most adults, let alone a five year old, and help her navigate them as if they were a fun game. They saw the care he took for their daughter, as if she were his family, and decided that he would be assigned as her permanent detail.

As soon as Eleanor saw Thomas standing by the kitchen counter, she let go of her mother’s hand and charged toward him. “Tommy!”

“Good morning, Your Highness.” He grinned and caught Eleanor before she collided with him, lifting her up and spinning her in a circle.

“Thank you for walking her down this morning Thomas, Liam is dealing with a last minute call in the study, and I still need to finish getting ready.”

“Of course ma’am, all in a day's work.” He gently placed Eleanor back on the ground, and bowed as Riley approached.

Riley gave Eleanor a hug and a kiss before Thomas escorted her out of the royal quarters to attend her lessons for the day. Once the door shut, Riley returned to her bedroom to finish getting ready. It had been a week since she had accepted the invitation to join the Via Imperii, and she hadn’t heard anything from them about what that meant, or what to do next. She wasn’t sure if she was now a member, or if there was some kind of hazing or initiation ceremony that she would need to partake in, but she was sure she should have at least heard something by now.

The same day Riley accepted the invitation, Liam met with Bastien and ordered a full sweep of both offices, as well as their private quarters. He made sure to instruct Bastien not to remove anything, just to report on what was found. It was determined that their offices, as well as the study in their home were bugged. Liam was relieved but, after everything sunk in a bit more, he realized they should have been more vigilant before speaking so openly about what Riley had uncovered.

In addition to the sweep, Liam spoke with Bastien about the Via Imperii, and told him about the conversation he had had with his wife the night before. Bastien said that he had been recruited to join many years ago, but after Jackson Walker’s death, they rescinded the offer. The only information Bastien knew was that they were an international organization whose mission was to keep world leaders in check. When his membership didn’t happen, he tried to do some research on them, to gather intel for Constantine, but he couldn’t find anything. Like they didn’t exist. This was deeply concerning to both of the men, no group that is out to do good works so hard to stay anonymous.

As Riley stood in her closet picking out her dress for the day, she felt Liam’s arms wrap around her waist. “I don’t want to go to work today. Can’t we just go back to bed?” He trailed light kisses down the side of her neck.

“Like father, like daughter. I swear, if you throw your shoe across the room, I quit.” Riley chucked as she turned in his arms.

“You had a hard time getting Eleanor on her way this morning?”

“I had to bribe her. We owe her a game of maze tag when she’s finished for the day.”

“Hmm...that shouldn’t be a problem. But only if I get to play with you alone first.” His kisses turned more heated.

“Liam, we have to get to work. We have a whole kingdom to run.” Riley tried to push him away, but he only pulled her tighter against him.

Liam’s lips gently brushed her ear as he whispered, “You know, as King and Queen, the more children we have, the more stability it means for the monarchy. If we stay up here and play the games I have in mind, it could technically be considered working.”

Riley was just about to give in when there was a knock on their bedroom door. They both groaned and pressed their foreheads together.

“I’ll get that. You cool off. You’ve got a meeting with Rashad in 20 minutes.” She kissed him quickly, as she removed herself from his arms and walked away.

Riley opened the door to find Mara on the other side. “Good morning, Your Majesty. Can I have a word with you in your study?”

They entered the study, Riley motioned for Mara to sit as she walked around the desk and sat behind it. Mara didn’t have to say anything for her to know what this was about. She was about to receive her marching orders from the Via Imperii. She was nervous, no question, but telling Liam seemed to lessen the anxiety. She knew she wasn’t alone in this anymore. “What can I help you with, Mara?”

“I have received word back from the Via Imperii, there will be a small gathering this weekend to welcome you into the society. You will be formally inducted at that time.”

“Ok, where will this gathering be held?”

“I am unable to divulge that information at this time. The only information I can provide you is that you will need to plan to be in Valtoria for the weekend. Leaving the palace Friday morning, you will return on Sunday night. His majesty’s schedule will be arranged so that he is unable to travel with you.”

“And Eleanor? I’m assuming she’s not on the guestlist, but she will need to travel with me.” Even if she was on the guest list, there was no way she was going to bring her daughter anywhere near this mess.

“Of course, it is fully expected that the princess will be traveling with you. That is why you will be leaving out of Valtoria. The house staff will be on hand to care for her while you are at the event.” Mara stood from her seat before continuing, “We will need to leave for Valtoria by 10AM Friday, the event will begin at 6PM that night.”

Riley walked Mara out of the office and paused before she headed down the hallway to her bedroom. “Thank you Mara, I will make sure Eleanor and I are ready to go. If you’ll excuse me, I need to finish getting ready. Please return to your post, I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

When she returned to the bedroom, she told Liam about the conversation that she had just had with Mara. It was then that Liam filled her in on the phone call he had taken earlier that morning, (not so) coincidentally, it was Francesco inviting Liam to Italy to partake in some trade agreements the same weekend that she would need to be in Valtoria. Of course Liam was concerned for his wife, she was being whisked away to some mystery location, and neither of them had any idea what was going to be done to her. However, he also held a great deal of concern for his daughter, who would be alone in Valtoria. What if their end game was to get Eleanor alone and something were to happen to her? The two most important people in his life, the centers of his universe, were going to be left without him and vulnerable, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Liam suggested one of their friends travel with her to Valtoria, that way someone from their inner circle would be there to protect his family if needed, and there was no question who Liam’s choice would be. He invited Drake to lunch where he asked him to escort Riley and Eleanor to Valtoria for the weekend. The royal couple had agreed not to tell anyone else about the Via Imperii just yet, so Liam simply told Drake that he didn’t want his family traveling alone. Since Riley would frequently invite her friends for ‘slumber parties’ at the palace when Liam had to travel without her, this didn’t seem like a particularly out of character ask, so Drake agreed without hesitation.

On Friday morning, Liam escorted his family to the vehicle waiting out front to take them to Valtoria. Drake was helping the driver load the bags in the back. He nodded at his friends as they came into sight, then quickly went back to what he was doing to allow them some privacy for a goodbye.

Liam bent down on one knee, so that he was eye-level with his daughter. “Now Eleanor, I trust you are going to be a perfect little Princess for your mother and Uncle Drake while you are in Valtoria?”

“Always daddy!” She placed her small hands on her father’s cheeks and pushed them together.

Liam chuckled in return, and pulled her into a hug. “Wonderful. I love you angel, I will see you in a few days. Why don’t you go see if Uncle Drake needs some help so that I can say goodbye to mommy?”

As Eleanor ran off to the waiting car, Liam stood and took both of Riley’s hands in his, stroking her knuckles with his thumbs to soothe her. “How are you feeling?”

“Terrified. I don’t like one single thing that is about to happen.” Riley’s voice wavered as the reality of the weekend began to sink in.

“I know it is an intimidating situation. But you, my Queen, are the strongest person I have ever known. I have no doubt that you will be fine.” He pulled her into a tight embrace. “And you will come home, and we will work together to figure out how to stop all of this. Just like we always do.”

Riley sighed deeply into her husband’s chest, trying to memorize this moment to draw back on when she was away from him. “I love you Liam. So much.��

“I love you too, Riley”

They both pulled back, Liam resting one hand on Riley’s cheek, wiping the stray tears away with his thumb.They were not afraid of facing another enemy, they had defeated their fair share in their short time together. However, when they fought those enemies, it was always together. They drew from each other's strengths, and would compensate for each other's weaknesses. This time, Riley would have to do the fighting on her own, while Liam sat alone, waiting. It was similar to the battle they fought during his engagement tour to Madeline, but the stakes were much higher this time around. They both knew this, and it made it that much harder to part ways.

They leaned in and shared a deep kiss that expressed all of their feelings in that moment. As they pulled away, Liam gave Riley’s hand one final squeeze. She wiped her eyes and got into the car where Drake and Eleanor were waiting for her. Riley watched Liam through the window until he was completely out of view, then she turned and faced the seat in front of her, sniffling a couple of times.

“Mommy sad?” Eleanor reached across the seats and touched her mother’s hand on the center armrest.

“No baby, mommy’s not sad, I’m just going to miss daddy while we’re gone”

“Jeeze Brooks, get a grip. I know you guys love each other, and are all but surgically fused together, but it’s only a couple of days.” Drake chimed in from behind them.

“Yea, thanks Drake. Helpful.” She brushed off his comment, the hurt evident in her voice.

“Hey, I was just joking around. You guys are ok, right?”

“Yea, we’re fine.” She nodded towards Eleanor to signal that she didn’t want to have a heavy conversation in front of her daughter. “It’s just been a while since we’ve been separated for more than 24 hours. We’ll survive.” I hope. Drake bowed his head in understanding and patted her on the shoulder. The rest of the car ride was mostly silent, Eleanor sleeping for a majority of the drive.

After settling in, and a quick mother-daughter walk through the gardens, it was time for Riley to leave for the Via Imperii induction event. She went into Eleanor’s playroom to say her goodbyes, making her best effort to hide the emotions that were running rampant inside of her at that moment. There weren’t many people who would have been able to see the worry and panic deep within Riley’s eyes, but Drake wasn’t just anyone. He was one of her best friends, and had been with her through so much already that he could tell that wherever she was going, it was not someplace she wanted to be. And it was much more than the average mother not wanting to leave her daughter. Between that, and how she acted after they left the palace, he knew something serious was going on with his friend. He made a mental note to check in with her tomorrow.

As her car pulled up to the large estate where the ball would be held, Riley looked out the window, reaching through the recesses of her mind, trying to match it up to one of the pictures in the many history books that she had studied in her journey to become Queen. She knew it looked familiar, but she wasn’t able to place it. “Mara, this place is gorgeous. Where are we?”

“Welcome to House Fierro. This is the Via Imperii’s base of operations in Cordonia”

“Wait, House Fierro as in Hunter Fierro?” Riley had learned about Hunter, he was personally appointed by Queen Kendra Rhys as heir to the throne, and became King-Regent of Cordonia after her assasination.

“Yes ma’am. He was Cordonia’s first Via Imperii member, he donated his family home to them.” As the car came to a stop, Mara exited and walked around to the other side, opening Riley’s door for her.

Riley entered the estate, paying attention to every last detail, looking for anything worth reporting back to Liam. However, there was nothing that particularly stood out, it looked just like every other fancy party she had attended since she arrived in Cordonia. She made note of the faces she recognized, mostly minor palace staff members, a couple of members of the King’s Guard, including Thomas, Eleanor’s personal guard. Great, they’re still trying to take my daughter away from me. In addition to staff, she also recognized a lot of faces that she knew she’d seen before, but couldn’t place. Aside from the members she was already aware of, there was only one other notable person she recognized. Donnie Brine. A local paparazzo that had been on hand to cover all of the Royal events and functions. He was no Ana De Luca, but he was definitely popular with the people.

As she walked around the ballroom, she shook hands, made pleasantries with those she knew, and was introduced to those she didn’t. She would ask leading questions to try to understand people’s roles, or try to get some information of their plan for her, without coming off as too eager to gather intel. She didn’t get much information, it seemed this was merely a mixer, not so much an official ‘plan the fall of King Liam’ meeting.

Later in the evening, Riley stood in a back corner with Mara, evaluating the scene in front of her. “This seems like an awfully small group for a major worldwide organization.” She whispered to her bodyguard. She really expected a better turnout, considering the build up she was fed.

“This is just the Cordonian chapter, Your Majesty. Each territory occupied by the Via Imperii has its own chapter, with its own leader. Rest assured, there are many more members around the world.”

“So who is the Cordonian leader?” Riley tried to act casual, she didn’t want to come off like she was just phishing for information, which is exactly what she was doing.

Mara nodded to the front of the room, where a woman started to approach the podium. “That’s her, she’s about to give the opening remarks.”

Riley’s eyes followed Mara’s as she watched the older woman step up to the podium and clear her throat. She could have sworn that this woman looked familiar, maybe she had seen her around the palace. Perhaps their paths had crossed during one of her Royal appearances. Then it hit her, she knew where she had seen that face before. She immediately got dizzy and felt her legs start to give out underneath her.

Queen Eleanor?

Then the room went dark.

Tags: @txemrn @texaskitten30 @kingliam2019 @anjanettexcordonia @twinkleallnight @mile9213 @kittypryde-bipride @motorcitymademadame @kat-tia801 @bebepac @gkittylove99 @khoicesbyk @jessiembruno @cordonianroyalty @queenrileyrose @shewillreadyou @athena-penrose @pixie88 @eadanga @choicesficwriterscreations @iaminlovewithtrr @hopelessromanticmonie @annarenee355 @burnsoslow

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fallowdoe · 4 years

Text

All roads lead to Hell

MC gets kidnapped and has to make their way through Hell to reunite with everyone.

GN!reader x everyone (can be treated as platonic/romantic)

Trigger warnings for this chapter: none

I apologise for the quality of writing however this is a translated version of my fic.

If anyone is interested in that I was listening to Casey tells the truth, the whole Split soundtrack is my big inspiration for this story. I’d advise onto playing it in the background while reading.

Chapter 1 - Prolouge ⇒

A few candles lit up the room. The gentle light was adding to its already mysterious aura. Solomon’s dorm was filled with all kind of grimoires and spellbooks. The floor was covered with tons of torn-out pages and patterns drawn on a yellowish paper.

Trying out one spell after another MC seemed to grow more and more annoyed. The upcoming exam was one of the most important ones and Solomon’s constant teasing wasn’t the most helpful.

"Focus or you won’t get anything done, MC." The sorcerer stated while leaning against a wall. He wasn’t even trying to hide the amusement in his voice.

"I am focused" They mumbled irritated. It was their ninth try of casting this, so-called easy, spell. A marble laying on the table seemed to look at them pitifully. It was a one bastard piece of glass. Even more irritated MC moved their hand above it once again.

"Neque ultra intuebitur eum" they mumbled. The space around them seemed to start drawing energy towards their hand. A quiet electric buzz filled their ears and they could feel their cheeks heat up. But just as they were about to direct the energy towards the toy it would suddenly unload. The marble remained untouched, and MC could bet that if it was possible it’d poke its tongue at them. Or maybe even raise a very specific finger up. "Neque ultra intuebitur eum!"

Nothing.

"No! It’s impossible! It’s impossible and that’s it! You gave me a broken marble." They grunted and dramatically sat on a chair pouting.

Solomon snickered at them and approached the table. He muttered the words of the spell and the marble was gone immediately.

"Cheater. I bet it was enchanted or something."

"Maybe." He smirked. "Try again."

MC groaned under their breath but stood up again. The sorcerer walked up to them and placed his hand on their arm giving them a reassuring look. "That’s gonna be seriously lame if you fail again tho.”

They replied with a huff and tried to refocus. Closing their eyes, MC began collecting energy again. It was a weird feeling. Suddenly they’d notice that the whole room was in fact like a river full of it. Their task was to change its current toward themself. This spell didn’t require a lot of effort, only a bit of thought. Stronger spells could even sweep someone off with an uncontrolled current.

They’d never admit it but sorcerer’s touch was rather helpful. It made them feel grounded. Goosebumps rose on their hand. They cast the spell again.

"Lame." He chuckled.

"Huh?!” Their eyes shot open searching for the marble but the table was empty. They laughed and playfully punched his chest, making him laugh. "Asshole.”

Content, MC threw themself on the bed as a mark of their victory, Solomon was quick to follow.

"You realize that this was shit compared to regular magic?” watching them struggle was incredibly amusing to him, apparently.

"Like I don’t know" They frowned. He smiled in response and laid back next to them.

The silence of the room, moving flames of the candles and its overall aura was really comforting.

"You should be able to pass the exam tho" he mentioned.

"It’s a lot, you know? Everything." MC wondered.

"I know."

"I just can’t wrap my mind around it.” They began playing with their hair.

"You could do much more without a hassle.” He stated like it was something obvious and leaned on his elbows while looking at them with a smirk.

"Wow, thanks for being an asshole.” They muttered, the hair they were playing with fell on their face.

"A supportive asshole.”

"I’m not sure if I could do more.” They spoke trying to blow the curl off. Hesitation making its way in their voice. "It’s still too new and…”

”Overwhelming?”

"Yeah… Convincing someone that hell is real is one thing but throwing them inside is something else.” They followed gentle shadows of the flames on the ceiling with their eyes.

"Why? You’d prefer a flaming river and little red devils instead of your seven demon boyfriends?”

Both of them laughed at the image of the brothers' with spiked tails and tridents.

"No, I don’t think I would.”

Empty walls of RAD were enhancing every sound, making every single word echo for a few seconds before disappearing.

"MC, ya comin’ or what?" Mammon was standing at the end of the hallway talking with Beel.

"Just a second!" they screamed while taking stuff out of their locker and putting it in a bag. They were planning on returning to the House of Lamentation as soon as the school day was over to prepare for an exam. But their Devildom History textbook was nowhere to be seen. "Ugh, I left a textbook in the classroom. Wait for me, I’ll go get it!"

"Just hurry up! I’m not explainin’ to Lucifer why we’re late again!"

The palace garden was full of exotic flowers, nothing like what they’d seen before. The number of colours and shapes worked wonders, some of the plants were gently glowing and lighting up the eternal night. Some had spots and some seemed to move on their own. MC could swear that they could even hear glassy sounds of a few.

"No matter how many times I see those flowers they always amaze me.” Diavolo was lazily examining the garden grounds. "Some of them only grow here. I’m doing what I can to keep them from going extinct. The species come from all of the three realms. That’s why you can spot some familiar ones.” He explained. ”I’m hoping to replant them one day on its original grounds.”

"Thanks to magic?” MC was sipping on some tea.

"Thanks to a good gardener, actually.” Barbatos smiled.

"Oh.” Both men laughed at their confusion.

The quiet evenings in Lord Diavolo’s castle were a nice change from their usual ones. Their small chats quickly turned into a regular thing, always accompanied by a nice tea made by Barbatos.

"Magic definitely helps as well.”

The wind was shyly blowing between the palace columns. Moth-alike creatures were roaming the garden, their wings glooming in the soft darkness.

"I don’t think I can get used to it. The magic.”

"Maybe, it’s a good thing. Living in constant awe of something." The Demon Lord smiled and gave them a soothing look.

They quietly hummed in response.

Lucky for them, the classroom was open. They entered not bothering to turn the lights on. The lost textbook was waiting for them on their desk. A dark and empty classroom felt really heavy, MC grabbed the book and just as they were about to return to the hallway they noticed an envelope that must have been hidden underneath it.

"What? " They muttered. An elegant paper and a wax stamp made it look important. If not for their name written on the back they’d probably leave it alone in fear of getting hexed or pranked. Instead, curiosity made them break the stamp.

"Geez, what is taking ‘em so long?" Mammon huffed. They were gone for only a few minutes but making HIM wait was quite an offence.

"Maybe we should go and check on them" Beel mumbled from between his sandwich bites.

"Hm, to get lost on your way for a textbook. Dumb human." Mammon stated annoyed. He was energetically tapping his foot.

"Come on, they probably locked themself in the classroom or something."

As soon as MC fished the sheet of paper from inside the letter, they started shivering. Cold air began circling them, their vision fading. All the sounds of the world around them suddenly gone. Sudden exhaustion taking over them, an empty void. It was a calm, soothing sensation. Like falling asleep…

"It’s empty” Beel stated exiting another classroom.

"Ow, come on! They gotta be somewhere ‘ere!" anxiety was slowly making its way in Mammon’s voice.

"Try this one – he pointed at the door on the other side of the hallway."

"If they’re not in the…" a powerful charge of energy went off when he tried to reach for the doorknob leaving both demons in shock for a second.

"MC!" Mammon bailed inside an empty classroom.

Loud voices filling the House of Lamentation kept the atmosphere tense.

"So they forgot a textbook…" Lucifer tried to keep calm, but his furrowed brows showed how tense he actually was. "…and went to get it…"

"Yeah!"

"…alone." He shot his brother a disapproving look.

A guilty nod.

"So, you went after them and discovered a sudden burst of energy in the classroom." The whole situation was more than inconvenient. It was a tragedy to be specific. An exchange student disappearing on the grounds of the academy. The exact one who couldn’t protect themself from any magic. The foreign trace of a powerful spell didn’t make the situation any better. The eldest took a quick glance across the room.

"We found this." Beel pointed at their textbook laying on the table.

"Are you sure that they just didn’t go somewhere?" Satan uttered.

"I’m tellin’ ya how it went! They’re just gone like that!”

"They sure can’t be far, right?" Asmo’s question was left unanswered.

A motion of loud voices filled the room, everyone discussing what might have happened.

Lord Diavolo approached the table with a stern look on his face. If it was true that something happened to MC while they were at RAD then he was the one at fault for not keeping the academy grounds safe for them. He took the book and examined it. Devildom history. It had MC’s name written on the first page. Nothing appeared to be wrong with it. Just a regular textbook. "It’s just a textbook if anything had to do with their disappearance it couldn’t be it. Is Solomon on his way here?"

"Yes, I called him a while ago he should be here anytime." Lucifer confirmed.

It wasn’t even about the project anymore, MC was missing and it filled all of them with an unpleasant feeling of guilt.

"Can’t Barbatos use his powers and find them?”

The butler sadly shook his head.

What previously was a state of anxiety, now was slowly shifting into a panic whit every passing hour. As long as they were alone in Devildom, they definitely weren’t safe.

"Something happened to MC?!" Luke’s voice caught their attention.

Both angels and Solomon were standing in the entrance to the dining room, looking rather startled.

"We don’t know yet." Diavolo stated calmly.

They joined everyone by the table and Solomon took the textbook. He gave Diavolo a specific look and the demon lord nodded in response. He started studying it.

"Are they safe?! Why aren’t you worried?!" the young angel kept questioning.

"I’m sure that MC’s okay." Simeon’s white lies weren’t exactly suited for an angel.

"Of course, everyone is worried." Belphegor stated irritated. "That’s why we called you!"

Solomon tried to quiet out the rambling and kept examining the book, but just like Diavolo confirmed, there wasn’t anything extraordinary about it. That was unless he opened it and a single sheet of paper fell out.

#obey me! shall we date?#obey me!#obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me mc #obey me mammon #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me solomon #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor

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potrix-the-queerschlaeger · 3 years

Text

layers (like onions)

Random idea of the day that wouldn’t leave me alone; this little future fic. And it’s not like we can’t all use some more Harringrove fluff, right? Can also be found over on AO3.

- - -

Sadie is having the absolutely worst first day at work, and the lunch rush isn't even over yet.

It had started with the fancy coffee maker spitting steam at her when she’d tried to show her new co-worker that she understood how to use it, burning the back of her hand and her wrist. Then the trash bag she’d been carrying to the dumpster out back had ripped, spilling all over her feet and the kitchen floor, so she’d spent fifteen minutes cleaning up while apologising profusely.

And to top it all off, her first table hadn’t tipped at all, even though Sadie had pulled out all the stops, been all friendly smiles and polite small-talk despite the total shitshow her morning had turned out to be.

Things don’t look much better with her current table, either.

So far, they’ve yelled across the restaurant for her when she hadn’t been fast enough with their drinks, demanded three additional baskets of the complimentary bread, one of them won’t stop making gross comments whenever she has to walk by, and by the look on one of the men’s faces right now, they aren’t happy with their food, either.

Forced smile firmly in place, Sadie approaches their table, ignoring the urge to roll her eyes when one of them clicks his fingers at her.

Before she can so much as ask what seems to be the problem, the scowling man snaps, “This burger has onions on it.”

“Yes, sir,” Sadie tries, summoning up patience only acquired through years of waitressing, “all our burgers come with tomatoes, pickles, and onions—”

“Well, I don’t like onions,” the man says, slowly, glaring up at Sadie. “I didn’t want any onions.”

“Of course, sir, I’m so sorry,” Sadie apologises, instead of demanding, like she really wants to, “Then why the hell did you order a dish with onions in it?”

(Watch out for the break!)

She pulls her notepad out of her pocket, quickly scribbling down an order for a replacement burger, and underlining the no onions three times. “I’ll put a new order in for you right away, sir. Would you like me to add a side dish as well? Free of charge, of course, as an—”

“No, no,” the man cuts in, and throws the burger he’d been holding down hard enough that it slips off his plate, and falls apart on the table. Which only appears to make him angrier. “Look at this mess. I want you to clean this up, and then I want to speak with whoever’s in charge here.”

The two other men nod, clearly not only used to their friend’s behaviour, but actively encouraging it. “Get to it, sweetheart,” one of them demands, making Sadie bite the inside of her cheek, “before all of our food goes cold.”

“Certainly, sirs,” Sadie scrapes the ruined burger off the table, waving over one of the busboys, “I’ll take care of this right away.”

Despite her words, after putting in the order for the new, onion-free burger, Sadie leans against the wall in the kitchen for a moment, breathing out heavily as she tries to compose herself. The line cook shoots her a sympathetic look, and Sadie smiles back shakily, grateful for the silent support.

Her boss’ office is one floor up, and Sadie isn’t too proud to sneak behind the bar, and make her way to the stairwell where she hopefully won’t be spotted by anyone from her table.

It’s quiet, once the door closes behind her, the voices of the guests and the sounds of the restaurant muffled, and Sadie swallows hard as she starts up the stairs. She’s seen her boss a grand total of thirty seconds so far, when he’d breezed in earlier, with a small child in each arm, a phone clutched between his shoulder and ear, and a frown on his face, while her co-workers had been showing her the ropes.

Mr Hargrove had been supposed to be the one to interview her, last week, but instead, Sadie’d been greeted by his business partner. He’d shaken her hand, smiling brightly, and introduced himself as, “Steven Harrington, but please, call me Steve, everyone does,” before explaining, all sheepishly, that Mr Hargrove was usually the one talking to the new hires, but that he’d unfortunately been called away on short notice.

He’d offered Sadie coffee, and had gotten her a glass of water instead when she’d declined, before dropping down in the swivel chair on the opposite side of the desk, picking up Sadie’s resume with a hum. “I’ll be honest, here, I don’t usually deal with this side of the business,” he’d said, chuckling a little to himself, “but if Billy’s invited you here for an in-person interview, chances are high he’s already decided to hire you. He can be picky.”

It had been said with a sigh, half annoyed and half fond. “So,” Steve had put the resume down again, and shrugged at Sadie, “if you’re still interested, and if the hours and pay you’ve talked about over the phone work for you, I don’t see a reason why you can’t start next Friday.”

Sadie had blinked at him, stunned, and then scrambled to sign the contract. Flexible hours, two free meals per shift, decent insurance, and paying slightly above minimum wage? It had been everything a struggling student like her could hope for, and then some.

Now, faced with the prospect of having to tell her boss that she’s screwing up on her very first shift, Sadie wishes she was anywhere but here. Still, she steels herself, takes a deep breath, and knocks on Mr Hargrove’s office door.

A moment later, a gruff voice calls back, “Come in.”

Mr Hargrove is sat behind his desk, one eyebrow raised, and Sadie hesitates, standing awkwardly on the threshold. The kids—definitely Mr Hargrove’s, going by their wild, curly hair—are playing on a blanket in front of the small couch, where Steve is sitting with a laptop open on his lap.

He smiles and waves at Sadie, which gives her the confidence to clear her throat, and say, “One of the guests would like to talk to you, Mr Hargrove.”

When Mr Hargrove only raises his eyebrow further, she adds, “He ordered a burger with onions, but says he doesn’t like onions. I offered him a new burger with a free side dish, but, well.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Mr Hargrove mutters, which earns him a scolding look from Steve, followed by a stern, “Language, Billy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mr Hargrove says, with a small roll of his eyes. He gets up from behind his desk, gesturing for Sadie to lead the way. “C’mon, let’s go deal with this shit.”

He’s obviously not happy about the interruption, but Sadie’s glad to notice that his irritation seems to be aimed at the picky guest, not her. The cursing also helps, strangely enough, has her bite back a giggle as they walk back down to the main floor.

Mr Hargrove looks intimidating, at first glance, what with all the tattoos, the denim, and the heavy jewellery. Like those bikers always parked in front of the shady bar a block down from her shitty, shoebox-sized apartment. Only, like, prettier.

Sadie ducks her head a little, blushing faintly. Mr Hargrove has to be in his thirties, is almost old enough to be her dad, and Sadie isn’t even interested in men like that, but she does have eyes. The blond curls, piled into a messy bun on top of his head, the dimples, the striking, bright blue eyes; Mr Hargrove is definitely good-looking.

Frannie would have a field day if she knew Sadie was getting flustered by her old, cranky new boss. Sadie silently vows to never tell her girlfriend a single word about it, ever.

“It’s the booth in the back,” she says, once they reach the main room of the restaurant again, pointing in the general direction, “by the big window—”

Mr Hargrove freezes mid-step when he spots the three men, but only for a second. Then he sneers, teeth bared, “Hell no.”

He stalks over to the booth, fast enough that Sadie has to hurry in order to keep up, and slaps the fork right out of one of the men’s hand with a snarled, “Get the fuck out of my restaurant.”

The men at the table—and a few people within earshot—fall silent in shock, all gaping at Mr Hargrove. Then, the now forkless man pushes to his feet, and right into Mr Hargrove’s space. “William—”

Mr Hargrove doesn’t back down, though, and he has several inches on the other man. “Get out. Right now, all of you. You’re not welcome here.”

The other man’s face twists in outrage. “How dare you speak to me like this? You can’t throw us out, we’re paying customers!”

“Oh, trust me,” Mr Hargrove’s smile is, Sadie thinks, pretty damn terrifying, “I can. And I will.”

“On what grounds?” the other man scoffs, and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Well, let’s see. For harassing my staff,” Mr Hargrove begins, and holds up his hand, counting on his fingers, “or, maybe, the years of emotional abuse? For regularly beating the shit outta me for close to a decade? Or for just generally being a terrible fucking human being, and an even worse father?”

The restaurant is so quiet, after that, Sadie’s almost afraid to breathe.

“Take your pick,” Mr Hargrove finishes, and takes a step back with a sweeping motion towards the door. “But get the fuck out, Neil. Or we will call the police.”

“Honestly, I’d love to see that,” comes Steve’s voice from by the bar. He’s holding the phone, wiggling the receiver when everyone turns to look at him. “Your choice.”

“You—” Mr Hargrove’s father starts, but is wisely interrupted by one of his friends standing up as well, and putting a hand on his elbow with a disgusted, “Leave it be, Neil. The little faggot’s not worth the trouble.”

There are several gasps from the other customers, but Mr Hargrove seems unfazed. Almost amused, actually. “At least my faggot ass can keep a family together. Ginny was, wait, let me think? Wive number five? How’s the divorce going, by the way?”

“Okay, that’s enough!”

If Sadie’d thought Mr Hargrove looked scary, it’s nothing compared to an angry Steven Harrington, apparently.

“You’ve got one minute to get your shit, and get the hell out. Everyone else,” and now he’s all charm again, looking around the restaurant at the shamelessly watching customers, “free pie, for having had to witness this little display of homophobic bullshittery.”

Mr Hargrove takes it upon himself to escort the men out of the restaurant, while Steve goes around apologising for what’s happened. Sadie shakes herself out of her stupor, and follows Steve in order to jot down everyone who’s interested in the free pie.

Before she can head back to the kitchen, though, Steve stops her and asks, quiet enough that only she catches it, “Hey. Are you okay?”

“That was,” Sadie breathes out, then trails off with a helpless shake of her head.

“Not a great first impression on our part?” Steve chuckles, wry smile on his lips. “Why don’t you take a break? Get a slice of pie, too? We got it handled out here.”

Sadie accepts the offer gratefully.

And the pie is delicious.

“Billy’s a fuckin’ master with anything even vaguely dessert related, man,” the line cook tells her, when she moans around her first forkfull. At her hum of surprise, he laughs, and adds, “Yeah, he still does most of the bakin’, even though he’s the boss man nowadays. Ask him for his lava cake recipe, it’s fuckin’ sick.”

The rest of the day is, thankfully, much less stressful.

Sadie gets to leave on time, and slips out the back door with a cheerful, “Goodbye!” thrown over her shoulder, only to stumble to a stop when she nearly bumps right into Mr Hargrove. And Steve. Because they’re standing very close, with Steve’s arm around Mr Hargrove’s shoulders, and his chin resting on top of Mr Hargrove’s head.

Mr Hargrove blinks one eye open at her, but doesn’t move out of the hug. “You good? Sorry ‘bout, you know. All that shit earlier.”

“Oh, yeah, uh,” Sadie stutters, feeling herself blush again, “don’t worry, all good. Thanks.”

“Have a nice night,” Steve says, with another one of those sincere smiles. “See you tomorrow.”

Sadie nods. “Tomorrow. Goodnight!”

She carefully steps around the kids, who are racing each other through the alley, shrieking with excitement. She’s almost by the bike rack when there’s a crash, followed by a warbling cry, and a distinctly toddlery voice going, “Shit!”

“Billy, I swear—”

“C’mon, Stevie, it’s not my fault they—”

Sadie rides off, not bothering to hide her laughter.

(When she comes in the next day, Mr Hargrove is waiting for her. He apologises, again, and introduces himself properly.

“Billy, please,” he insists, grimacing a little. “Mr Hargrove is my father, and, well. You saw that whole shitshow yesterday.”

Then he shows her how to use the coffee machine without getting burned, before Steve calls for him from upstairs. He’s almost through the door when he turns back around, eyes flickering down to the collar of her shirt with a small but genuine smile.

Sadie watches him go, ghosting her fingers over the small rainbow pin Frannie had proudly stuck on her shirt earlier that morning.

She’s pretty sure she’s going to like this job after all.)

#stranger things #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #future fic #post canon #billy lives #homophobic language #neil hargrove's a+ parenting #myfics

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