#also second place there's some lines from the fic i'm currently working on that i'm writing rn that i also enjoy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

keikikait · 3 months

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ᴡᴀʏ ᴏᴜᴛ (ʙɪᴋᴇʀ!ᴍᴇɢᴜᴍɪ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

for my other megumi fic, click here (warning - smut!)

pairing: biker!megumi x f!reader (au, both are early to mid 20's)

word count: 2k

summary: you love your new apartment, as small as it is. it's in the perfect place, right next to the train station, and is cheap as hell. the only downside? your neighbour, who revs his bike outside your window every morning.

warnings: NO SMUT!, no angst!, multi part series, kind of enemies to lovers, slowburn?, megumi is kinda rude lmaoooo, the girls are fighting!, he says sweetheart twice, reader is kinda down bad lmao

a note: sorry for the delay, i've been busy with work! also, 8 square metres is about 86 square feet :).

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

The rent was cheap. Suspiciously cheap.

You should’ve been wary, but you didn’t have many options. After a bitter fallout with your roommate, you needed to move out quickly. You should’ve paid more attention to the listing, you realise, as you stop in front of the building and it sinks in that your new digs weren’t 18 square metres.

It was eight square metres.

Thankfully, you didn’t have much furniture with you, needing to sell it all to afford the move. Your apartment was essentially one long, two-story hallway, just enough for your desk chair and TV.

You get settled in quickly, trying to liven up the place by replanting your herb garden outside on your small porch. The apartment doors faced an alley, and on the other side of the alley was another apartment building. You didn’t know how much sunlight your basil would get, but that’s a problem for future you.

A problem for the current you, however, was your neighbour's motorcycle. The bike is an exact replica of the legendary Honda Super Cub that was used in the original anime Akira, and as pretty as it is, that shit is loud. His apartment is right on the edge by the sidewalk, meaning the only place he can park it is right in front of your window.

You’ve tried everything. Earplugs. Noise-cancelling headphones. Ear plugs under your noise-cancelling headphones. Sleeping with a white noise machine. Nothing works. You only moved in a month ago but you’re already sick of this mysterious man and his bike. You don’t run into each other often, catching glimpses of him as he drives off in the morning and comes home at night. You didn’t want to be that neighbour, the one that complains about every single little thing, but it was driving you mad. He revs his bike so loudly and for so long, that you’re starting to think he’s doing it on purpose.

You wake up that fateful morning and decide you’ve had enough. You wait for him to return home, hyping yourself up in the mirror before heading outside to confront him. You idle nervously in front of his front door for a few seconds before knocking.

He answers, looking exhausted, his hair a mess from his helmet. “Yeah?” You have to admit, he’s pretty cute. Tall and lean, with bicep muscles that strain against the fabric of his black t-shirt. And you swear you can see some eyeliner smudged on his water line.

You smile, trying to come across as calm and casual, slightly flustered by how attractive he is. “Hey. I’m your new next-door neighbour,” You gesture with your thumb. “I don’t wanna be that person, but would it be possible for you to not rev your engine so loud in the morning? It’s just…it’s right by my window, and it’s really loud.”

He lets out a sigh of frustration, not exactly in the mood for what you're throwing at him. It was already 9 pm on the third day in a row that he had worked the late shift, and this was not something he needed right now. He looks at you, his expression a mixture of irritation and confusion. “Look, I'm not doing it on purpose. I park where I park, nothing is going to change that. You just moved in, this is how it's been and how it's always going to be.”

You blink, a little taken aback by how rude he was being. “I understand that, but surely I'm not the only person in the building who gets inconvenienced by your bike.”

He crosses his arms, his eyes narrowing. The last thing he wants to do after a long shift is argue with someone about something as insignificant as noise. “Look, if you don't like it, then move out. I don't see anybody else complaining. You're the only one.”

You clench your jaw. You had some experience with bikes, your ex-boyfriend being a mechanic. You knew it was possible to make the revving quieter, it just seems like he didn’t care. “Can’t you just buy a muffler silencer?”

He lets out a short, sharp laugh, one that doesn't hold a single trace of humor. “A muffler silencer? For a Super Cub? Are you serious? That would be like asking a Ferrari to be quiet.”

“You can’t expect everyone to just be okay with how loud your bike is, man.” You say. “I’m sure it inconveniences everyone in the building, but no one wants to be the person that confronts you.”

He seems to be holding back from saying what he wants to say, taking a shallow breath. “Look. It's my bike. I can do whatever I want with it. No one else is bothered, so why should you be any different? Why do you care so much?”

“You’re not the only person who works early mornings.” You say. “You aren’t the only person in the world, you know.”

That strikes a nerve, clearly, but he still doesn't seem interested in hearing what you're saying. He just rolls his eyes, looking away at his bike for a moment before looking back at you. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but in case you haven't realised, you're not that important.”

“Neither are you.” You say impulsively. It was mean, and you didn’t like being mean, but he wasn’t giving you any other option.

He glares at you, his expression darkening. It's only for a moment, but you can see there is actual vitriol in his eyes. “Look, I'm going to make this simple for you. If you don't like the noise, then move out. That bike is not going anywhere. It has more meaning to me than you'll ever understand.”

“Yeah, I’m sure Akira meant so much to you as a kid,” You say sarcastically. “It doesn’t matter. You can’t keep doing this, man. Buy a muffler silencer.”

He laughs, but there's a slight tinge of bitterness to it. “Oh, so it's just a cartoon to you? It’s not an influential masterpiece that changed motorcycle and animation culture forever? Okay, great. Good to know.” He is starting to get worked up, but then he shakes his head, trying to regain his composure. “Look, like I said, I am not doing anything to this bike. Not the mufflers, nothing.”

“Then park it somewhere else.” You snap. “Keep it away from my window. I don’t want to hear that shit.”

There's a flash of annoyance on his face. “There's no place to park it away from your window unless I block the sidewalk, which I guarantee you would cause more inconvenience. You're just going to have to deal with it.”

“Are you always this rude and stuck up?” The question stumbles out of your mouth before your mind can process it.

His temper flares up. He takes a step towards you, putting his hands on his hips as he glares at you. “Are you always this entitled and self-absorbed?”

You take a step back. You hate to admit it, but the way he towers over you is arousing. His cologne fills your nostrils and you find yourself getting lightheaded. It was slightly spicy, with a hint of vanilla and coffee.

You ground yourself, swallowing hard. “Look, I don’t want to argue with you. I just want us to come to a reasonable compromise.”

He glares at you, his eyes boring into you as you step back. You can feel the heat on your skin as if every drop of sweat in his body has been activated by the situation. His cologne is overwhelming you, filling your whole body. “There is no compromise to make here. You don't like the noise, tough. You're just going to have to get used to it or move out. That's it.”

Your eye twitches. “You’re such an asshole.” At this point, you didn’t feel bad being mean to him. He kind of deserved it.

He laughs, seeming almost amused by your temper. “You're one to talk. You come barging up to my apartment, demanding I make changes to my bike, and then you get mad at me when I tell you not to waste your time. Look in the mirror, sweetheart, and then come back with the right to tell me I'm an asshole.”

Fuck. You shouldn’t like the way he says sweetheart, but it causes your throat to dry up. “I tried to be nice to you,” You say. “You’re the one that got defensive and rude.”

“Nice? Maybe in your little dreamland that's what you think you were doing. Maybe you even believe that you were just being friendly and reasonable, I don't know. But in reality, all you were doing was pissing me off and acting like some sort of entitled princess.” He takes a step closer to you, his finger pointed in your face. “But one thing is certain. I’m not changing anything about my bike just to make you happy.”

He’s so close to you that it makes your head spin. You step back again, leaning against the railing surrounding his small porch. “Look, I’m sorry, but you can’t blame me for being upset.”

He doesn't seem interested in letting you off the hook yet, not when he looks so close to snapping. “It doesn't matter if you're upset or not. You don't get what you want by coming here and giving me an attitude like a fucking brat.”

You swallow hard. Fuck. You shouldn’t be attracted to this man, he was rude as hell and didn’t seem to care that he was inconveniencing not only you but everyone in the building. But you couldn’t help yourself. He was so pretty, and he smelled so good, and his voice was so nice. You were going to have to change your panties when you got back home.

You stand up straight, trying to stay headstrong. “You’re being incredibly rude about this.”

“And you're being incredibly entitled. There's only one of us that needs to change here, and it's not me.” He narrows his eyes, his gaze still burning into you.

You lick your lips. “Look, we’re not going to get anywhere by arguing.”

He gives another one of those short, sharp laughs. He smiles, and it makes your stomach flip. “You finally said something smart. I didn’t know it was so difficult for you. Now, are you ready to accept that you're not going to get what you want, or do you want to keep wasting my time?”

Your eyes narrow. What the fuck? “Excuse me? Did you just call me dumb?”

A smirk spreads across his lips. “You heard me. Or did you need me to repeat it for you?”

You let out a sharp laugh, moving off of his porch. “You know what? Fuck you.”

He raises his eyebrow, a faint smile on his lips. “Oh, so you've switched from demanding to insults? Real mature, aren't you?”

You head over to your apartment, laughing again. “I should’ve known trying to reason with you would be impossible.”

He calls after you. “You're damn right it's impossible. You come here, make some demands, and then get mad when I tell you no. You're a spoiled brat who always gets her way, aren't you? Well, today's a bad day for you, sweetheart.”

“Fuck you.” You say, holding the door to your apartment open. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I’m not sure I want to.” He says, smirking slightly. “I’m not into brats like you. I think you need to be taken down a few pegs. You need someone to put you in your place.”

You scoff and flip him off before slamming the door behind you, and just like that, you have given up.

He leans against his door, crossing his arms and smiling as he watches you leave, his eyes on your ass. He’s just a tiny bit disappointed that you gave up so quickly. He's got to admit, it was pretty fun messing with you, watching how angry you get. He thought you looked cute like that, your cheeks all red and flustered.

Maybe next time…

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

part two is here

dedicated to the lovely @whereflowerswenttodie

#keikiwrites #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #biker!megumi #fushiguro megumi #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk megumi #enemies to lovers #slow burn #neighbors to lovers #✿: megumi!#f!reader

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ao3commentoftheday · 6 months

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Hi sorry if this is something you've already answered but. Do you have any advice for anxiety around posting? I have so many fics sitting finished collecting dust in my google docs that I just. Don't have the confidence to post. And I want to. I want to share these things with more then the ocassional close friend or my partner, but I just get so anxious about it not being as good as I think it is or missing a typo or being cringey somehow (even though cringe culture is dead. The. "Cringe culture is dead for everyone but me" thing)

It honestly gets to the point where I can't even get myself to write the things I want to write because they have to be perfect the first time. And posting things on anon does help, but I don't wanna have to do that. I want to be able to post here and in other places and share it with people and not have to hide behind anon. Sorry that this got a little rambly haha

Why is it that you're worried about having a typo in your work? Why does it have to be perfect? What will happen if you have a mistake or if you have a sentence that doesn't flow quite the way you want it to or one of your metaphors is a bit of a dud? What's the big, bad result you're fearing will come about if you post something that someone else doesn't approve of 100%?

I'm going to link you to a post I wrote a while ago that seems to resonate with some folks, but if you don't feel like reading it the key line that gets quoted the most from it is, "The goal of perfection isn't to improve. It's to avoid shame."

That feels like what's happening here. Between the worry about common mistakes to the stress about posting cringe on the "cringe lives here" website, it sounds like you've got a lot of anxiety wrapped up in wondering what other people think of you.

While I can't really help you unpack any of that aspect of things, I can suggest a workaround that might get you posting in the meantime. Create a second AO3 account. Get yourself a second email address (or create an alias on your existing one) and make a new account that no one knows about and post your stuff over there. No one will associate that account with you, and you can pretend that it belongs to some stranger you don't even know. If you get comfortable with the idea of owning those works with your current fannish ID, you can always transfer them over later.

I also don't want to be judged on the "no judgement here" website, and I've got a secret AO3 account that only 1 other person knows is mine. It's nice, being able to post things "under the radar" and it takes some of the pressure off of worrying about the cringe and what other people might think.

Let's see what suggestions the rest of the folks have. Hopefully between us, we'll get you posting again ❤️

#asks and answers

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bunnliix · 2 months

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Can't Stay Away from You - Chapter One

First chapter woot woot! This is by far, the longest chapter I've ever written, at over 7k words, and honestly, I hope this is good? It's my first time writing a/b/o, and I'm a little unsure of where this is going exactly, but I hope everyone will have fun on the rollercoaster that this fic is bound to be!

masterlist

word count: 7k

warnings: defintely some angst in here, but lighter angst?, reader is anxious at parts, but like for the most part, there's really not much to warn about I think? Please let me know if I'm wrong or if I need to add anything!

Y/n wasn’t expecting any emails, but when she heard the ding that let her know she had received one, she immediately looked. She never knew when she’d get another freelance job, so whenever an email came in, she developed the habit of checking it. This wasn’t a work email, no, but it was from one of the stores she had recently bought a couple of Stray Kids albums from. From the subject line, it was about the albums she had bought, and a fansign? She doesn’t remember signing up for one, but she also has been so busy, she probably forgot about it.

Opening up the email, she found that she had won a place at an in person fansign in Seoul, in two days. She was so shocked by this news that she held her breath, not thinking this was real for a moment. She read through the email fully, memorizing every word, she really had won, holy shit. She thanked the gods that she didn’t work a physical job, because it meant she could work from anywhere, and she started figuring out her trip to Seoul. There was no way she was missing out on a chance to meet Stray Kids.

She quickly found a plane ticket, even if it was insanely expensive, and she thanked herself for her savings, having to dip into that a bit for this trip. She then moved on to finding a place to stay, and found a nice hotel that wasn’t outrageously expensive, and immediately booked it. She’d be flying out in about seven hours, leaving her to scramble to pack and leave for the airport. Quickly packing her luggage, having a packing list made up from previous trips, she packed clothes for a week, deciding to explore a bit since she was going there.

Y/n’s travelled enough to have mastered the skill of packing efficiently, gathering everything she needed into 3 pieces of luggage. She double-checked her travel list, making sure she had packed enough for her trip. Before she shoved her laptop and cords into her bag, she sent out an email to her current clients stating that she had an emergency occur, and that her work may be delayed by a day. At this point, it was almost time for her to head to the airport. So, she finished packing the last of her things into her carry-on. Remembering to grab her coat before putting her shoes on, she grabbed her bags and left the apartment.

She took a taxi to the airport, and on the way there, texted her best friend Emily that she was heading out of the country and asking her to watch over her apartment while she was gone. Emily agreed right away, and told her not to worry about anything. She smiled down at her phone, her bestie was her ride or die, and she was so grateful to have her in her life.

When she arrived at the airport, she thanked the driver, pulling her luggage out of the trunk and heading straight to the check in counter. The process was smooth and she was quickly on her way to security, which while terribly busy, went by quickly and soon she was sitting at her gate, having grabbed a couple snacks for the plane and filled up her water bottle on the way over there. She had about an hour before boarding, so she pulled out her laptop, deciding to get some work done while she waited. She finished off the last edits to one project, sending that off to one of her clients, before starting on one of her other projects.

Halfway through her second project, the call for boarding went out over the P.A. system, and so she saved her work, slipping her laptop back into her bag before lining up with everyone else. She was lucky enough to get a last minute window seat on the plane, putting her carry-on in the overhead bin, before settling in her seat as she pushed her smaller bag under the seat in front of her. She looked out the window as the plane took off, the start of her journey to Seoul, and meeting Stray Kids, was starting now. Since it was a relatively long flight, she pulled out her laptop once she was able to do so, starting back on the project she worked on earlier. She spent the majority of the flight working on her current workload, which was about four projects at the moment.

They were all fairly simple projects, they just took time to perfect them, but it was a great way to pass the time. By the time she finished her last project, there was only a couple hours left of the flight, and so she rested and watched the clouds roll by. Y/n admired the view as they landed in Seoul, excited to explore the city.

Patiently waiting to disembark the plane, she waited until she was able to leave her row, grabbing her bag from the overhead bin and then bringing it down, pulling it behind her as she left the plane. She pulled it along, heading towards the luggage carousel, before she went through customs and immigration, quickly clearing them and heading out into Seoul. She took the metro to head towards her hotel, unpacking her headphones and listening to music to pass the time on the train. Once off the train, she pulled out her phone to find her hotel location, quickly finding her way to the hotel. Thankfully, it was late enough that she could check in right away and head to her room. She took the elevator up, finding her room midway down the hallway, and upon opening the door, found that she had a beautiful view of the city around her.

She dropped her luggage by the bed, and walked towards the window, admiring her view of the city. She may not be a heights kind of person, but this was still beautiful, and she would be looking out a lot during her week here. She hauled her suitcase up onto the bed, pulling out a fresh outfit, before heading to the bathroom to shower. Once she had, she changed into her fresh outfit, pleased to get the smell of the airplane and airports off of her. Since it was still light out for a while, she decided to get out into the city and explore the neighborhood around her. She packed her smaller bag with the necessities, grabbing her key card on the way out the door and quickly going back down to the lobby and out into the fresh air.

Y/n knew travelling alone as an omega always brought risks with it, but it was worth it to be here in Seoul, both for the fansign and just in general. It was sunny and warm in Seoul, a great contrast from back home, and she was living for it. She was always a warm weather kinda girl, and the warm air and sunshine here made her thrive. She decided on just walking the area around her, figuring tomorrow would be one of her bigger exploration days.

She saw a lot of stores that intrigued her, but thought better of shopping, she’d be exhausted much quicker if she gave into that urge. She was glad that she brought her headphones, it helped distract from the loud noises of the city, and brought the level down to a reasonable one she could deal with. The hustle and bustle of the city was normal to her, since her own city was similar,

Up until now, her omega had been strangely quiet. Usually she was very outspoken, more so than y/n herself was. Her omega was going haywire at the moment, confusing the poor girl as to what set the omega off. She felt almost pulled forward, and her omega pushed to the surface, making her walk faster to wherever that pull was coming from. It culminated in her running into someone, and ended with her on the ground in front of them, looking up at their mask-covered face.

“Are you alright? I’m sorry that I bumped into you.” The person said as they leaned down, reaching out a hand to her. She tentatively took it, and she stood up with their help. Standing so close to them, she could smell their citrusy sweet scent, it calling to and calming her omega. That confused her slightly, but she shook it off, not wanting to think about it now.

“I’m okay, and really, I bumped into you. I should be the one apologizing.” She replied.

“Let’s just say we bumped into each other then? We both played a part in this.” They told her, and she could see that they were smiling by the crinkles near their eyes.

“I can agree to that.” Y/n replied, giggling slightly.

She saw as the other person took a breath of her scent, and for some reason they stumbled back away from her, their eyes widening.

“I’ve got to go, I’m sorry.” They said, rushing away from her, leaving her standing there alone on the sidewalk.

She watched him run away, and her omega cried out, and y/n felt like she had been punched in the stomach. Her anxiety shot up, and tears came to her eyes. She’s so confused, she doesn’t completely understand what’s just happened, and why she was so affected by it.

She felt increasingly down as she walked back to her hotel, no longer feeling any urge to explore, just wanting to retreat back into her room and nest. She speed-walked into the hotel elevator, avoiding everyone. Once back in her room, she locked her door and got to work making a nest in the bed, using everything she could. She finished it and then climbed inside, curling up into herself as her omega cried out to someone, for an unknown reason. That, and she couldn’t take her mind off of the person who ran away from her, and everytime she thought of him, it made her chest hurt.

In the end, she fell asleep, and she dreamed of them again. She had dreams every so often about Stray Kids, and she assumed this was once again, her brain being delusional. She dreamed about going on vacation with them, assumedly in Australia given her surroundings, but she felt that this dream was different.

She noticed that this time, the member’s touch and reactions felt more real? It felt like these were actually the boys, and not figments of her imagination like they usually did. Their eyes seemed shocked, even as they all enjoyed the dream. They were more touchy with her, Felix especially. She noticed that he looked similar to the person she ran into earlier, but shook it off as her just being delusional again. She enjoyed her dream and found happiness with the boys, as it was just a dream, that’s all.

Waking up the next morning in her makeshift nest, she whined at the lack of someone beside her, having fallen asleep in her dream next to the boys. Her scent smelled like burnt honey and vanilla because of her sadness, but she pushed through, thinking of happy thoughts and how she’d get to see the boys later today. She got up, having to get out of her nest that smelt like sadness. Pulling out an outfit for the fanmeet, she quickly showered before changing, and then moved onto her makeup and hair. She did her makeup like she usually did, leaning more towards a very natural look, knowing if she wore too much, it would be harder to touch up later on.

Before leaving her room, she checked the rules for attending the fansign, and quickly memorized them. She headed back to the bathroom, since one of the rules was wearing scent blockers, and quickly applied them to her scent glands, making sure she covered them fully. The rule had been put into place because of an incident with a second gen girl group fansign years ago, she remembered the aftermath of it very well, despite being young at the time. One of the fans, an alpha, attended the fansign and tried to overwhelm one of the omega members of the group with her scent, and since then, companies have made it mandatory that scent blockers be worn during fansigns.

Checking her outfit in the mirror once again, she made sure it looked right, fixing anything that was out of place. She had decided on an outfit that reminded her of a mix of Felix and Han’s individual styles, but had blended them together in her outfit. Plus, it was really comfy, and knowing she had a long day in front of her, she didn’t want to be stuck in something uncomfortable. She grabbed her bag, setting out for the day. She planned to explore and see some tourist sights first, before the fansign, since it wasn’t starting for a couple hours from then.

She mostly wandered as she wanted, not having a specific destination in mind. She found herself wandering a market and buying some snacks along the way. Everything she bought tasted better than the prior snacks, and she had to leave the market in a hurry lest she get distracted. To her benefit, however, this passed enough time that she almost had to run to make it to the fansign venue.

She made it there in under 20 minutes, and hopped in line with everyone else, having brought her ID, and had the email that she won as well. Checking in was a simple process for the most part, however the ID checking part was the most tedious. Once that was finished and they confirmed that she was who she said she was and that she was allowed entry, she was quickly shuffled into the hall where the fansign took place.

Y/n found herself about midway between the front and back of the hall, and almost straight in the middle of her row. She greeted the girls next to her, making small talk with them as much as she was able to with her limited knowledge of Korean. They mostly talked about their favorite members and songs, and whose outfits they liked the most in this recent comeback. Y/n enjoyed chatting with the other girls, and a couple more of the ones around them joined in as well, and just before the boys walked out, they had created a small group chat, adding each other on kakaotalk.

The minute the boys walked out on the stage, all eyes were on them, and the cheers were almost deafening. Despite it only being a small fraction of the number of people at a concert, it was as loud as a concert. Yet it only took Bang Chan raising his hand for the crowd of fans to fall silent.

“Hello everyone!” He said, waving to the room. He and the boys quickly introduced themselves and did their “Step out” intro as they always do. They took the first part of the fanmeet to goof around on stage, playing around with some of the items laid out for them by staff.

During this, y/n couldn’t keep her eyes off of them, feeling almost a pulling sensation in her chest, and a need to keep an eye on the boys. She ignored the pulling feeling, trying to enjoy the fansign and commit this all to memory. She soaked in the atmosphere, the joy that radiated around the room, from the fans and the idols. It filled her with happiness, the feeling almost bursting out of her chest.

It wasn’t long before they boys had moved onto the signing part of the fansign. She watched as each row of fans lined up to meet the idol group, going down the line one by one, and the smiles on the boys’ faces made her smile too. It made her happy to see them happy, and she knew the girls around her felt the same way. Her hand was tapped as a girl in the row ahead of her asked her to record her interactions with the boys, and she readily agreed. Once that girl was up on stage, she zoomed in and recorded her interaction with the eight idols. In return, once it was her turn to line up with her album to meet the boys, the other girl offered to record her going down the line and talking with the boys, to which she quickly thanked her for offering and y/n handed her her phone. She lined up on the side of the stage, nervousness growing as there were only a few girls still in between her and Changbin, the first of the eight boys she’d meet today.

Soon, she sat in the chair in front of the rapper, smiling at him as she said hello, shaking slightly due to her nerves.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you!” She told him, smile as bright as the sun.

“Ahh, nice to meet you too!” He said, taking her album as she handed it to him, opening to one of his pages. “Where are you from?” He asked, noticing her nerves and the slight shake to her body, determined to get her less nervous.

“I’m from Canada. I flew here and arrived yesterday afternoon.” Y/n told him.

“Oh wow! Really? That’s so far away!” He was surprised she flew that far for their fansign, he even applauded her for it, to which she shied away, hiding her face.

“No, no hiding!” He teased her, and she slowly pulled her hands away, looking at him with red cheeks.

“Is it cold back in Canada?” Changbin asked.

“It’s not too bad, I guess? But I prefer it here where it’s warm and sunny.” She told him, replying to his question.

“Ohhh, you like warm.” He said, English skills finally breaking down a bit.

“I love the warmth. I’m always too cold, see?” She said to him, showing her hands which were slightly pink at the tips.

He grabbed her hands gently, rubbing them to try and warm them up. He knew it was chilly in there, but not to where one of their fans was becoming very cold. He was so concerned for her, almost abnormally so, but he chalked it up to just caring for their stays.

“Oh no, you’re so cold! It’s too cold here.” He said after rubbing her hands for a couple moments.

“Oh no, it’s okay, Changbin-oppa. My fingers and toes are always like this, no matter how warm it is. Just my body being bad, that’s all.” She corrected him gently, wanting to ensure he knew it wasn’t the room, it was just her.

And sadly, that is where her time with the rapper ended, with her being moved onto the next man, who was the Hwang Hyunjin, who was waiting for her to move down in front of him, which made her blush intensify.

“Hello Hyunjin!” She said, voice a little on the higher side.

“Hello, Stay!” He said, smiling at her. “What’s your name?” He asked as he received her album, moving to sign one of his pages that she had marked.

“My name is y/n! And we’re born in the same year, Hyunjin-ssi.” She informed him, slightly swaying in order to calm herself.

“Oh? We are? That’s amazing! What month?” He further questioned her, a slight surprise showing on his face.

“I’m a September baby, so I’m younger than you by a couple months.” She said, watching him sign her album.

He looked back up at her, his beauty was ethereal, and it took her breath away to see him this close up. He reached out to grab her hands, both of them pulling away slightly and flinching at the zap of electricity. It couldn’t have been more than static electricity, but it felt almost like a connection of sorts. Both of them waved it off, not thinking much of it, but inside, their beta and omega knew what had just happened, and were berating them for ignoring it.

“Your name is really pretty, I forgot to tell you.” He said earnestly, his eyes feeling like they were staring right into her soul, and she could see so many emotions floating around in those captivating eyes. She couldn't keep eye contact with him and looked away, down at her lap to avoid his gaze.

“Thank you, Hyunjin-ssi.” She said, still unable to look him in the eyes.

“Stay doesn’t have to use -ssi, call me Hyunjin, please?” He begged her, leaning down on the table to try and get her attention, to which she looked up at him, giggling at his position.

“What are you doing?” She said between giggles.

“I just wanted-” He started, but was interrupted by staff ushering her to move onto the next member, to Hyunjin’s dismay. He wanted to talk with her all day.

Seungmin was next, and his gentle smile caused her to continue to smile in return, her smile not dimming, but becoming softer.

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you.” He said, much calmer than the others, but you could see that he was just as excited to meet their fans as the other boys were.

“Hello Seungmin, it’s nice to meet you too.” She said, telling him her name afterwards, so that he had a name to sign the album with.

They made small talk as he signed, and then continued on afterwards. Y/n told him how far she travelled to be here today, and then expanded on her home as Seungmin asked her more questions about where she was from. She tells him that no matter how long the journey was, she wouldn’t have missed being here, and missing the chance to talk to them, for anything else in the world.

To this, his face is filled with awe and wonder, always surprised at what lengths their fans go to in order to see them live or to meet them. She then talks about what she loves about him, and how she enjoys seeing his interactions with the other boys, and how his voice is angelic. She just about showers him in compliments, until her time with the vocalracha member is up.

He waves goodbye to her and hands her album onto Jeongin, who’s next in line. He smiled at her as she slid over into the chair in front of the maknae, who, having heard her name from when she told his fellow member, quickly signed her album, before reaching out to grab her hands, squeezing them. This shocked y/n slightly, not expecting how intense the maknae was right then and there. He however, just felt drawn to her, like a moth to a flame, and wanted to be in contact with her. His alpha encouraged his actions, and the man himself didn’t question his alpha, and just continued looking at her with a smile on his face.

“Hi, Stay!” He said excitedly, to which y/n replied back, asking how he was doing.

“I’m doing better now that I get to talk to you.” He answered her, winking at the end and slightly flirting, to which he got lightly smacked by Minho.

Y/n wasn't faring well with the intense nature of the supposed “baby bread” youngest member, and it clearly showed on her face, which was turning, in Jeongin’s eyes, a lovely shade of pink, and her eyes were wide as she stared at him.

“You look so cute, Stay.” He complimented her, to which she blushed harder. His grin grew as he watched her blush intensify, and to which his alpha almost purred in contentment.

He continued teasing her, to which her responses were almost nonsensical, until the staff member became her savior by telling Jeongin that she had to move to the next member. Minho, being impatient, grabbed her hands from his fellow member and pulled her over to the chair in front of his space at the table, grabbing her album afterwards. Jeongin pouted at his hyung’s actions, watching you move over to the next chair. He only stopped overtly watching her when the next Stay sat down in front of him, his attention turning to them.

“Hello Lino!” Y/n said, a smile still stuck on her face.

“Hello Stay.” He said, shaking their hands as he had yet to let go. “Do you have any pets?” He asked, finally but almost reluctantly pulling his hands away so he could sign her album.

“I do! I have a bunny, named Jack.” She told him, telling him how she got him, and about all of her bunny’s little quirks.

He stopped signing her album just to look up at her and watch her talk. He was oddly drawn to her, and observed her as she talked. Her smile was extraordinary and how he wanted to never see her smile fade away, he felt pulled in by her, and he knew it wasn’t her scent, it couldn’t have been since he could see the scent blockers on her skin. But she almost called out to him, to his alpha. He internally questioned if there was something more to that feeling or if it was only just because she was similar to his omegas, to Jisung and Felix. Her outfit clearly took inspiration from them, and she seemed similar in personality, so maybe that was the culprit behind this pull he was feeling.

He realized that he hadn’t finished signing her album, and hurried to do so as he lightly chatted with her, mostly about their own pets and how troublesome they were at times. Sadly, that came to an end when she was pointed to move onto the next idol, who happened to be Felix.

The Australian man looked at her, having the silent realization that this was the girl he ran into the day prior, and did his best to push what happened out of his mind, since he hadn’t told anyone what had happened, and from the lack of reaction on her part, she didn’t know that they had met yesterday.

“Hello Felix!” She said, smiling from ear to ear at meeting her almost birthday twin.

“Hello! How are you? Also, your outfit is so cute! I love it!” He replied, a grin on his face.

“I’m well, and I’m very excited to be here!” She told him, her cheeks hurting as she had smiled since meeting Changbin. “Thank you! I tried to combine your and Han’s styles, and I hope I was able to do both your styles justice.” She explained.

“You did! So, how old are you?” He questioned, taking the time to sign her album.

“I’m your age, actually.” She confessed, as he looked up in slight shock.

“Wow, really?” He said.

“Yup! Actually you and I aren’t too far apart in age, birthday wise. I share a birthday with one of your members.” She replied.

“Wait, that means-” He started, before she interrupted him.

“Yeah, I do have a birthday twin within your group.” She giggled and nodded as she confirmed his thoughts.

“Oh wow! That’s so cool!” He told her.

“Yeah, it’s what made me a Stay actually. Well, and your Miroh era.” She confessed to him, blushing slightly.

They continued chatting, with Felix inquiring more about her life, and how long she’s been into K-pop among other things. Felix’s omega was practically purring at having this pretty girl’s attention only on him, plus that they got to see her again after Felix stupidly ran away yesterday.

Meanwhile, next to Felix, Minho was trying to concentrate on the Stay in front of him, but his mind and eyes kept wandering over to y/n and Felix. He couldn’t help but listen in on their conversation as he tried to keep chatting with the fan in front of him. That pull in his chest still hadn’t disappeared, and he kept questioning what exactly was drawing him to you. His alpha, however, knew exactly what was happening and was very happy about it, Minho could tell that much. His alpha kept talking about how Felix and the girl got along so well, and look how pretty they both were, and ‘Wouldn’t they look pretty together in their nest?’ Minho had to physically force himself to look away from the two of them, and push to only focus on the Stay in front of him.

During this, the two people who were the subject of Minho’s thoughts and glances were saddened when staff told them it was time for y/n to move on. Felix grabbed her hand, pleading with her not to go, to the girl’s laughter and her insistence that she must move on, to Han finally interjecting and reaching out for her hand and pulling her to the next chair.

“I heard you had a birthday twin in Stray Kids?” He inquired immediately, wanting to know.

“Hello Han. Yes I do.” She giggled at his impatience. “I’m birthday twins with you, actually. Down to the year.” She told him.

Hell yeah!” He exclaimed as Felix overheard, the Aussie pouting at how close he was to sharing a birthday.

Y/n saw Felix’s pout, and giggled as she looked over at him. He saw her giggling and playfully glared at her, only making her giggle more, which Han did as well when he saw what was making the girl in front of him giggle.

Han quickly signed his page in the album, before focusing all his attention on the girl in front of him. He wanted to know more about his birthday twin, and to learn if they had anything else in common. They did have quite a few things in common, their style being one of those things, anxiety was a second, and they also had quite similar personalities. This made the quokka a very happy man, and his omega wanted to steal the Stay away and keep them and Han was agreeable with that notion. A birthday twin to share the fun with? Yes please.

They joked about how maybe this was fate, and maybe this was why she was drawn to the group in the first place, with y/n admitting that their shared birthday is what made her interested in the first place. Han smiled, with a blush on his face at that confession. That she had found the group and gotten interested because of Felix, but was more interested that they both shared a birthday. Plus, she won the chance to be here and meet them, which was even more amazing.

As engrossed as they both were in their conversation, Chan finally leaned over and interrupted them, to inform her that it was their turn to chat. Han grabbed her hand, shaking them as he thanked her for coming and talking with him, and that she’d have to remember to wish him a happy birthday when their birthday came, to which she promised she would. She reluctantly let go of his hands, and moved over to sit in front of Chan, realizing that her time with the boys would end shortly.

“Hello there, sorry to interrupt your fun with Hannie.” He apologized, looking truly sorry to have stopped their conversation. He truly was sad that he had to do so, they loved their fans, and Jisung looked so happy as he chatted with her, and his alpha almost screamed his content at how happy this girl had made his members.

“It’s okay, I understand, don’t worry Chan.” She told him, understanding clearly heard in her voice.

He smiled at how understanding she was, starting up a conversation with her about what she was going to do while in Seoul. Inside, his alpha was trying to gain control over him, an overwhelming need coming over him to grab her and scent her, rules be damned. He wasn’t alone in this feeling, as y/n had been feeling a pull this entire time as she went down the line, but it was stronger right in front of the leader of the group, and her omega wanted nothing more than to sink into this man’s arms right here and now. She shook off her omega while he pushed away those feelings, one thinking it was just her being delusional and having read too much fanfic, while the other just chalked it up to his alpha reacting to the fact that it was a pretty girl in front of him right now.

They continued their chat like neither of them were experiencing anything, and she asked him about places to visit in Australia should she ever get to visit, and he turned it on her and asked about places to visit in Canada when they get the chance to travel there. Both parties enjoyed the conversation, almost feeling as if they were just two friends chatting, instead of idol and fan. They talked about animals as well, both of them gushing about their own animals and telling a couple of funny stories about them.

At last, y/n’s time with the boys was finally over, and it was at this point Chan realized he had never signed her album. Signaling to the staff to let him sign the album quickly before she had to leave, he did so. On a whim, and what he swears was his alpha’s idea, and not fully his, under his signature, he added his number. Quickly closing the book, he handed it to her, and waved to her as she left the stage and returned to her seat, focusing on the next fan to sit in front of him.

Y/n returned to her seat, feeling saddened after leaving the stage and the boys. She shrugged it off, just like she had with the rest of the odd feelings she’s had today and yesterday. After she got back to her seat, one of the girls in the row behind her that she had made friends with, asked her to film her meetings with the boys, and she agreed. After that, the girl in the row in front of her that filmed her interactions handed her phone back, and y/n thanked her for filming as the other girl waved off her thank yous.

Soon enough, it was the girl behind her turn to chat with the boys, and y/n started filming as she went up on stage. She noticed during her filming, that the boys glanced up in her direction a couple times, or at least her general direction, she doubted their gaze was on her specifically. She dutifully continued filming, trying to get the best video she could for the girl.

Y/n was wrong about the boys not looking right in the crowd for her. They really couldn’t help themselves, looking at her when she didn’t notice, and every time they had the chance. They had never felt so pulled towards someone like this, not since they all found each other. Y/n was feeling the same way, it almost felt like there was a rope between her and the boys, and it was trying to pull her in closer. She once again brushed it off as wishful thinking, and maybe her delusions of wanting the boys to notice her, as every Stay did. Plus, she probably just enjoyed talking to them so much that she wanted to talk with them again.

Finally, the girl she was filming for left the stage, and y/n ended the recording, handing the phone back to her once the other girl returned to her seat. She watched as the final rows got their chance to see and talk with the boys, and once everyone was back in their seats, the boys came out from behind the tables, and started goofing off again. There was a portion set aside for photos of the boys, and of course they were absolutely adorable during it. And then they decided a couple dance relays of S-Class were in order, and a part switch dance to S-Class as well, which went as well as anyone could expect. A.k.a, it was a bit of a disaster, with the boys not knowing each other's places nearly as well as they knew their own. Though, we did get to see Felix do Minho’s parts, which was amazing and everyone in the room loved it.

Before anyone knew it, the fansign was coming to an end, with the boys sadly saying goodbye to the fans. Y/n didn’t want it to end, but as they were ushered back out of the room after the boys had left the stage, she reluctantly left. She was in tears leaving the building, and felt a great sadness at leaving, and so did her omega. She wasn’t quite sure why she reacted so heavily, but as she walked back to the hotel, her emotions only grew. Because of this, she sped up her pace, wanting to disappear into her hotel room and cry in private, not wanting others to see her like this.

Once she was back in her hotel room, she locked the door, immediately taking off her shoes and any accessories, before crawling into her makeshift nest that still smelt of sadness from that morning. She let herself fall apart, crying as she curled into a ball. She wasn’t sure why she was so sad, she really wasn’t sure, but she could feel that her omega was really hurting. She cried herself to sleep, falling into a nightmare, where it was the opposite of her dream from the night before. The boys were the opposite of their sweet selves, and were hurling anything and everything negative about herself at her, and all she could do was sit there and cry as they did so.

Being shocked out of her nightmare, she sat up as she woke up, her chest heaving as she tried to regulate her breathing. She managed to do so after a couple of minutes, and trying to get her mind off of how hurtful her nightmare was, she reached for her phone.

She found the video of her interactions with the boys, and started watching it. As she watched it, she realized just how different her interactions with the boys were from the ones she had filmed for others and watched herself. They seemed much more intimate in a way, with how touchy a lot of the boys were with her. They were so much more emotive and interactive with her, it felt a little abnormal after the fact. She must have been so happy to meet them that none of it felt off to her, and really looking back, it still didn’t feel too odd, just a bit more intimate than the other fans’ interactions. She wondered why she was so different, and why her, over everyone else.

This pushed her to look through her album, and she stopped at Chan’s signature. Underneath his name, there was a number, along with a short message to text him. This had to be a joke, there was no way she was living the y/n life right now. She felt as if she had stepped into a fanfiction, because why else would Bang fucking Chan have given her, out of all people, his number?

She decided to fuck it and texted the number he gave her, and he almost immediately responds.

‘Who are you?’ He demanded.

‘I’m y/n, you gave me this number in my album that you signed today.’ She replied.

‘What did we talk about today then?’ He asked her.

‘A little bit of everything, honestly, but we did talk about our pets. You talked about Berry, and I talked about my bunny Jack and how troublesome he is.’ Y/n told him.

She also decided to send him a picture of herself, holding open his page of the album as she sat next to a clock to prove the time. Chan believed her, and told her as such. She then asks him why he decided to give her his number.

‘I watched your actions with the others and myself, and something about you and all of our interactions intrigued me. I felt there was something more to it all, and wanted to get to know you better.’ He explained, to which she was relieved it wasn’t a trick, but was also confused about how she intrigued him. She voiced those thoughts and to which he reassured her that he wasn’t tricking her, nor should she be confused about how she was interesting to him, because he honestly found her interesting from the start of their conversation at the fanmeet.

He further explained that the other members had no idea about what he had done, and he hadn’t planned on saying anything to them, unless y/n had reached out and told him it was okay to do so. Though that didn’t stop them from discussing her in the vans on the way back to the dorm, nor did it stop their discussion from spilling over into their group chat. He told her as much, and she was surprised to have made that much of an impression on them. Chan reassured her that their interactions with her were very memorable, from what he could gleam from the others’ conversations. What he didn’t tell her was that Minho had noticed Chan’s behavior, and signaled to the pack alpha that they would be talking after they arrived back at the dorm.

Soon enough the boys arrived back at the dorm, and the leader had to say goodbye for now to y/n, Minho staring him down as they walked into the building and then the elevator. The other alpha grabbed his hand as soon as the elevator doors opened, and led him through the front door of the apartment, and straight to the Aussie man’s room.

“Who are you texting? And why am I sure it’s that girl from the fansign?” Minho interrogated him, not leaving him a second to talk.

“You’re not wrong. I gave her my number.” Chan confessed.

Taglist: open!

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lovableapocalypse · 1 year

Text

an encounter

bassist!remus x fem!reader

wc- 1.1k

warnings- alcohol, jealousy, sirius being a twat

a/n- i was listeing to t1975 and m.o.n.e.y played and the line "and i cant believe that were talking about him" played and inspired something in my brain. also writing last night motivated me again a bit. buttttt once again this is not the long chapter (their love confession) that ive been working on. this is just a silly pre- together fic of them being stupid. love u all and i appreciate every one of u.

Remus’ glare was burning into your spine. For once though, you didn’t seem to notice him. You were leaning on the local bar’s counter talking to the new bartender. You had been sent to get the next round and what had started as a friendly conversation had turned quickly into flirting.

You all had been studying for your upcoming exams and decided a much needed break was appropriate. How you ended up at the pub was not in your control, you’d suggested a quick coffee run. But you’d lost the last round of pool and were therefore sent to get refills.

The bartender was cute. Not exactly your type, seeing as your type was currently sending dirty looks to the guy. Remus was oblivious to your feelings for him and you rarely let yourself talk to other guys because you were so focused on him. When the guy across from you sent the first flirty remark your immediate reaction was to shoot him down, but for once you acted on your second instinct and decided to flirt back.

Flirting wasn’t exactly a skill you had mastered, but it was fun to banter with the guy and you were honestly into it at this point. He had placed your drinks on the bartop but continued his conversation with you while there were no customers. He was talking about some crazy order he had to make earlier in the night and you were laughing along.

Remus had witnessed the whole encounter. You were shit at pool so it was no surprise you had been the one to get the next round, he was just curious when it was taking twice as long. He didn’t mean to shoot daggers at the guy, but when he saw your face heat up and your laugh grow louder he couldn’t help it.

Sirius noticed his irritation right away and huffed a laugh as he leaned closer to him, “Are you gonna do something?”

“What?” Remus shot back.

“Are you going to do something?” Sirius reiterated.

“About what?”

“Jesus. That.” He waved his finger between you and the bartender.

“Why would I do something?” Remus tried to play his obvious discomfort off, but Sirius saw right through him.

“Because you’re quite literally in love with her.”

“Shut up.”

“See. No denial.”

Remus lightly shoved Sirius and shook his head, “What would I even say? ‘Oh hi can you please stop flirting with the girl I have no right to get jealous over’?”

“You should add ‘because I’m too pussy to ask her out even though she clearly returns my feelings.’” He smiled and Remus gave him a blank look, “Piss off. For fucks sake.”

“No, I'm serious. She never shuts the fuck about you. Just go over there and offer to help her with the drinks or something. I want my beer anyway.” He pointed at you again and nudged his head in your direction.

“Fine.” Remus sighed, placing his pool stick down and moving towards the bar.

His steps were quick and when he glanced back at Sirius he made a shooing motion. Remus itched the back of his neck as you got closer and closer. He made his way to your figure and your laugh quickly made him regret his decision. Who was he to stop you from flirting? But you spotted him and turned towards him, touching his arm.

You smiled and turned back to the bartender, “This is Remus.”

“Ah, nice to meet you.” The guy nodded at him.

“Uh, yeah. Hi.” Remus awkwardly smiled.

“Rem this is Liam. He just started here this week.” You raised your brows, making conversation. You left your hand on Remus’ upper arm and neither of you acknowledged it, even though the touch was sending similar butterflies up your spines.

“Oh nice,” Remus replied, “Like it?”

“Yeah, so far it’s alright.” Liam smiled at you when he said that and Remus had to restrain from visibly cringing. You returned the smile and giggled. You actually giggled. He looked between you and Liam tried to let it go, but couldn’t.

“Right. Well Sirius wants his beer so,” He tried to end the conversation and was scared you would tell him to just take the drinks, but luckily you went along with him.

“Right ‘course.” You laughed and moved your hand to reach for a few drinks.

“Thanks Liam.” You sent him a small smile as you spun around. Remus sent him a tight lipped smile and followed you.

Sirius was smirking as you approached and patted Remus on the back when he handed him his drink. Remus glared but couldn’t help but laugh at the whole situation.

Lily rushed over to you and as you handed her the drink she ordered, she spoke, “That guy was so into you. He stared at your ass the whole time you walked back over here.”

You grimanced, “Lovely.”

“No, no. That’s a good thing. You could get your mind off you know who.”

“Lily, kindly shut the fuck up.”

She put her hands up in false surrender and you turned, giving James his drink. You heard her whisper again though, “Remus was so jealous though, it was hysterical.”

“He was?” You spoke too quickly.

“Yes, badly. He was squinting so hard his eyebrows were literally touching.” She motioned between her own brows, laughing.

You glanced back at him and he caught your eye, blushing. You smiled and turned away.

“He was actually jealous?”

“Yes, love. Very,” Lily smiled, “You two are the most oblivious people in the world I swear.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes.

James and Peter started the next game of pool and while you were waiting you stood next to Sirius. “The bartender was cute.” He said. Remus was on the other side of you and spun his head towards Sirius at his words.

You nodded, “Yeah he was alright.”

“I think he’s really into you.” As he spoke he looked at Remus and smirked knowingly.

“Really?” You asked. “I don’t know, maybe he’s just being friendly.”

Remus cleared his throat, “Probably. Didn’t he just start working here? Just making friends with the customers, ya know.”

“I don’t know Moony, that looked pretty flirty to me. Y/n/n?”

“I- I’m not good at gauging these things- I mean flirting is not my thing so I wouldn’t know.” You looked between the two boys shaking your head, oblivious to Sirius’ instigating.

Remus mouthed Fuck off when your head was turned and Sirius laughed. It was his turn to go and you spoke to Remus as Sirius played, “He’s not my type anyway.” You glanced up at him and he nodded his head. “That’s good.” He answered.

His response made you shy. ‘That’s good’ is it? You turned, hiding your smile and flush. God you two were idiots, he was jealous. And you were secretly glad he was.

#bassist!remus x reader #bassist!remus universe #bassist!remus #band!marauders #band!au #marauders band au #band au #remus x reader #remus x you #remus lupin #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #sirius black #lily evans #james potter #my fics #do not copy

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anemoarchonhoe · 1 month

Text

Commissioned by @udretlnea

Request: I'm thinking slice of life, second person, and it takes place in Mondstadt. The reader is well known and liked by practically everyone; they are currently there to observe the Alchemy Event going on right now- This is just set-up. I imagine Venti is there waiting w/ Diona for their potion order; then he sees Reader and he gets intrigued so he surprises them. The two walk out of earshot and have a pleasant chat about what's been going on- Since the fic is only 1k, I'd prefer to keep it short between them. Reader mentions how they're adjusting to their role as "Overseer of Teyvat" (implying this is a Creator!Sagau); they offhandedly mention how Khaenri'ah's been working on dimension hopping tech before Diona drags Venti away. And the fic ends with Reader feeling uneasy about opening Teyvat up, but they choose to ignore it to go and experience the event.

Thanks for commissioning me!

It is convenient; the fact that you obtained godlike power as soon as you stepped foot unto the soil of Teyvat. It had been a tremendous help in navigating these new lands you'd been transmigrated into and made life easier. Just like this time. It didn't really take long until you reached the venue where the Alchemy Event organized by the Knights of Favonius is, all due to your ability to teleport long distances. You shook your head to get out of your musings and began to look around your surroundings.

It was a modest event focused solely on alchemy. Unfamiliar faces from both Mondstadt and outside of it flocked the booths, tents and stands full of test tubes and questionably multicolored smoke to see what was happening. It soothes you to be normal for a few minutes… until people noticed you standing amongst them and bowed in your presence. The scene made you squirm a little where you stand, not totally uncomfortable but still unused to the attention. You raised a hand, as if blessing them, nodding your head to signal that they can resume the event. Which they do, but some approached you to either ask for a blessing, for guidance in their life's path, or simply to greet you. You are liked, perhaps not as loved as the archons despite ranking higher, but you prefer it that way. It's less expectations, after all.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the Overseer of the world."

"Heya, Your Grace!"

You carefully made your way past the crowd to reach the two people who called out your name. You smiled in relief; finally, people you know! Venti was looking at you with a bright smile with both hands on his hips and Diona is enthusiastically waving at you. You pat Diona, which the bartender swiped at with a playful hiss.

"Venti, Diona, hi!" You greeted them. "What a surprise to see you here. This is the last place I imagined you to hang around in."

"I understand you for thinking that way, but curiosity had gotten the best of me." Venti answered, and then assumed a serious thinking pose. You rolled your eyes playfully with a thinly veiled smile. He's going to ask something ridiculous, isn't he? "If alchemy has the power to transform matter, I wonder if it could also be used to turn water into wine?"

There it is. Diona fumed, but you cover her mouth with your hand and answered. "I could turn water into wine. Easy."

Venti's eyes widened. His smile as bright as the sun above. "Really?!"

"No." You're not sure. You probably could, if you tried.

"My hopes and dreams…" Venti fake-cried and pouted, but he immediately gets over it and smiles. "Anyway, what brought you here, Overseer?" He gestures for you to walk with him, so you follow, steps falling in line with his.

"Oh, you know," you vaguely wave your hand, trying to make sense of what you were feeling. "Just looking around. I got curious myself about alchemy so I came."

"Ah, I see," Venti nodded. You mentioned to him and the other archons on one of the traditional divine get togethers — brought back by Venti and Zhongli — that your world once studied alchemy. Turns out your alchemy is a sham and couldn't turn stuff to gold, but it did make way for the study of chemistry. "I hope you are enjoying yourself."

"Don't worry, I am. Especially since I'm with you."

Venti gave you a soft look."Aww. I'm honored, truly."

You laughed and gave him a push, your cheeks feeling a little warm from the attention. He snorted and retaliated by send a gentle breeze your way to mess your hair.

A companionable silence briefly falls over the two of you like a cozy blanket as you sit down on a bench with the perfect view of the event. A tiny explosion from some failed alchemical experiment echoed somewhere and you thought you heard the Traveler's surprised yelp and Paimon screeching from the same direction. You both ignored it.

"You seem busy these days, Overseer," The Anemo Archon finally broke the silence. "What have you been up to?"

"The usual. Making sure the Irminsul is healthy through checking with Nahida, keeping the Abyss Order in check, rebuilding Khaenri'ah- ah, since we're talking about the place, I should also mention that they're working on some advanced technology. Something about travelling through another dimension."

Venti nodded, but his face looks a little troubled. "Are you sure that's a great idea? With Celestia gone, there's nothing that can stop Khaenri'ah from fulfilling their dreams. However…"

There's just way too many risks. You can hear his unspoken words in your head. As far as you are aware, they're "digging" through time and space to get to the world where you came from. While interdimensional trade can certainly be advantageous for this world in both technological advancement and knowledge, you're afraid of the repercussions of messing around with wormholes and potential war that can erupt due to disputes borne of different culture and lust for more territory.

Humans are greedy creatures, after all.

But before you could answer, Diona is already running towards where you were both seated. She pants and places both hands on her knees. The girl huffs one last time and looks at the green-clad bard, irritated. "Where in Teyvat have you been?! Your potion is complete so come get it already!"

"Okay," he replied, standing up. "I hate to cut this conversation short, dear friend, but I must leave. I hope you enjoy the rest of the event."

You nodded with a tired smile, watching Venti follow Diona, who's doing her best to keep walking ahead of the bard in spite of her shorter legs. You feel a little uneasy about the future, your heart being seized with fear for this world you swore to protect.

For now, however, you want to enjoy this peaceful day. Perhaps you'll go greet the Traveller.

Word count: 1,000

Character count: 5,692

#ventus.adventure #ventus.commission #genshin impact venti #genshin impact venti x reader #sagau #genshin sagau #genshin impact sagau #cult au #venti x you #venti x reader #genshin venti x reader #genshin barbatos #isekai #slice of life

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shewrites444 · 1 year

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ghost [xavier plympton x reader]

[ inspired from ahs 1984, and of course written by me. super cheesy smut fic since i wrote this over a year ago and it has been sitting in my drafts, but why not post it for my ahs lovers. enjoy! ]

word count - 2.4k

[summary: the reader is a counselor at the former camp redwood, now camp meadow, and meets a very friendly, yet also flirtatious ghost during her first night.]

[warnings: dirty talk, oral, unprotected sex]

regardless of how much my mom and i argued, i continued to deny her stupid reasons to not work at camp meadow the summer. the second massacre of 1984 was not even in the current century, so i knew not to overreact about any possible harm coming my way. i loved a good thrill anyway, so maybe some stupid kids pretending to be the night stalker or mr. jingles would be the most enjoyable portion of the long week anyway.

after finally convincing my friend [y/f/n] to come with me, i was felt my decision was for the best. the drive was a few hours long and once we arrived, we were able to meet our fellow counselors and the head counselor, who seemed nice enough, and not very strict whatsoever.

"i'm going to try my hardest to make this week enjoyable for not only the kids, but the counselors as well." miss thompson smiled at us, nodding her head with respect towards the young group. "i know this place has a lot of bad memories, but with a new name, new cabins, and much more, we can make newer, better memories. if you guys have any concerns or questions, please let me know. i'm available anytime."

[y/f/n] nods, then raises her hand, which miss thompson acknowledges immediately. "what about showers? we haven't gone over that yet."

miss thompson told us we had to shower before midnight, to make sure we had hot water the next morning for the kids, in case they needed a bath or anything of the sort.

after taking turns one by one, i was last in line for my shower. i decided to wait until it was dark, so i didn't have any concerns about my friends coming to prank me with stupid, useless scares. they were all tired, cuddled up in their bunks and ready to prepare for the next morning, which would be extremely busy with the amount of kids the head counselor said we were expecting.

i grab my towel and a change of clothes, along with my razor, and made my way towards the showers. i set everything down before stripping off my baggy, light washed jeans and plain black crop top, then turn the water on, waiting until it's hot enough to step into.

i close my eyes, humming quietly to myself as i wet my hair, reaching over to grab the shampoo bottle. i squirt it into my hand, then sigh upon realizing it's all out.

"just fucking fantastic." i scoff, setting the bottle down and just deciding to shave instead. i grab the bar of soap and lather my right leg up, grabbing the razor and sliding it against my skin.

while doing so, i feel a cold gust of wind against my heated, wet skin, looking up with confusion as it suddenly stops. i shake my head, ignoring the situation and going back to my legs. after shaving, i set the razor down and glance to the shower next to me, seeing there was no shampoo in there, either. i really preferred to wash my hair tonight, knowing that it would be funky the next day, since we were expected to take the kids in canoes and swimming.

"looking for this?" i hear a low masculine voice, making me jump and squeak in surprise, turning around to see a blonde boy, dressed in a pair of white khakis and a teal sweatshirt, with a pair of white high-top converse. he had one silver cross earring, which hung on his right ear and shook as he stepped closer, holding a small shampoo bottle in his hand.

i blink numerous times, trying to fathom the fact that the boy was really there. he looked like he belonged in a different universe, or era, to say the least. i step closer and grab it from him, squeezing it in my hands to assure what was happening was actually real. i realize that if this is real, i'm bare ass naked in front of this random guy.

i snatch the towel from the sink, holding it over my body as my cheeks begin to heaten, and not just from the hot water. "who the fuck are you? and why the fuck are you in here while i'm showering?!"

he ran his fingers through his blonde highlights, laughing to himself, as if the situation was amusing. "well, i actually live here. i heard you and your buddies talking about the massacres that took place here earlier today. kinda disappointed you don't recognize me."

i wrap the towel around myself, stepping closer to him, and crossing my arms in complete confusion. "i'm sorry, but i don't think anyone just casually lives at camp meadow. this is like, a summer camp. i don't think it's legal to live here unless you own the camp, and the person who owns this place is a woman. so, i ask again, who are you, and why in the hell should i recognize you?"

"i'm xavier!" he yells in frustration, seeming offended i didn't know this infamous name. "xavier plympton. i was one of the few who were killed here in the '84 massacre. you haven't read up on the conspiracy there's ghosts here? you're looking at one from the 80's." he winks, watching as my eyes widen in shock.

"there's no way." i shake my head, looking at him from head to toe, completely flabbergasted by his unrealistic explanation. "ghosts can't just live here on earth forever, right? i thought you guys would at least go to heaven or hell, or something. not that i believe in that shit, but you'd at least go somewhere other than here."

xavier shrugged, taking a step closer to me, reaching his hand to my bare, wet shoulder. he smiled, sighing as he felt my skin. "i wish i felt like this again. being a ghost sucks sometimes. i feel so empty, so inhuman. i haven't felt someone so warm, so human, in years."

i pull back, pushing his hand off of me. "okay, um, xavier plympton. sorry to disappoint, but you probably won't be feeling this human ever again. now if you'll excuse me, i really need to wash my hair. thank you for the shampoo, but i seriously need you to leave."

he sighed, crossing his arms and lightly tapping his foot in annoyance at my resistance. "come on, [y/n]. i'm the whole reason you can even wash your hair. one more touch please, maybe on your face or something? it makes me feel normal again!" he whines, making a pouty face towards me.

"how do you know my name, weirdo?" i ask, looking at him with annoyance and a bit of confusion. "and no, you can't touch my face. if anything, that's the farthest from feeling normal. that's just being a creep."

xavier walked closer to me, "i do my research. i have nothing else to do around here, so why not eavesdrop on the new counselors before they're here forever like the rest of us, hm?"

my eyes widen as i walk back, hitting the shower water with my back, and feeling the towel begin to get soaked. i gulp, trying to scan him for any potential weapon. "well, if you kill me, then you won't be able to like.. touch my shoulder or whatever.. i thought you wanted to feel what it was like to be human, remember?"

he laughed, reaching to tug the side of the towel, biting his lip and looking up to meet our eyes. "i wouldn't hurt you or let anyone else do so, [y/n]. you're not like everyone else around here. you seem different, like you aren't afraid of a fucking stick breaking when you walk at night like those other pussy counselors. i mean, you came out here at almost midnight and showered all alone, so it's like you were practically begging me to touch more then just your shoulder.."

i blush, crossing my arms to make his fingers break from the fabric, breathing in and out rather heavily, as i felt my stomach turn at his words. "what would ever make you think i'd want you to touch me? maybe that's your brain, just because you've only had ghost pussy for like twenty years."

"maybe, instead, it's because you excite me." xavier snaps back with a flick of his pink tongue. he grabs the towel, slowly pulling it back off of me, then tossing it to the wooden floor. he grabs the shampoo, squirting some into his palm before lathering it up, gesturing for me to turn around. he sinks his fingers into my hair, beginning to wash it with soft, relaxing strokes from his fingertips. i close my eyes, practically melting at his touch and feeling my legs quickly drench with pleasure as he begins to kiss down my wet neck and soon to my bare shoulders.

this goes on for a few minutes, when he then helps to wash the shampoo out of my hair, and turns me back towards him. i watch him strip of his clothing, except for his light blue boxers, which showed off his stiff, hard length, poking directly towards my wet pussy.

i chew my lip, looking down at his length, before locking our lust-filled eyes. he moves closer to press his lips against my cheek, then smiles seductively.

"if i'm going to fuck you, i'd like to do so in a place more, comfortable. for the both of us, of course." he explains, taking my hand and pulling me away from the water. i look to him, raising a brow, and watching as he hands me the towel.

i follow him outside, as he walks towards an empty cabin, several down from the one i was staying in. i let him sit me down on the bed, where i pull the towel off of myself and set it on the dresser. i lay on my back, spreading my legs in his direction as he pulls his boxers down. he looks at me with a grin, chuckling as he walks over to shut my legs, making my sit up with complete confusion.

"thought we were going to have sex, xavier. not play games, right?" i chirp, looking at the blonde as he sticks two fingers in his mouth, then pins me back down, sliding them to my clit, answering my own question. so no sex yet, only some foreplay so far, which was absolutely fine by me.

he came off as a man who wanted to skip the foreplay, but the second he pumped his fingers inside of me, i was thankfully my interpretation was wrong. i gasp, letting out a loud moan as he began to finger me, curling his digits inside of me with each thrust, in and out.

xavier leaned down to latch his lips to my nipple, sucking softly for a minute before pulling his head up. he looks down at me, pleased with my moans, while he reads my lustful expression.

"the minute i saw you walk into this camp, i knew you'd been needing a good dicking, [y/n]. the way you looked at those other counselors when they were introduced to you.. you've been wanting someone inside of you for awhile now, and who better then me, hm?" he talked into my ear, his hot breath against my skin as he worked his magic inside of me. "i could fuck you so hard tonight you'd never wanna leave camp, baby. you'd be begging for my cock from when you wake up to when you go to sleep. i can already feel how good your pussy is, so i may be begging you for the same later.."

i glance up at him, then down to his hand, as he rapidly finger fucks my insides. i'm dripping at his touch, my juices sinking between my ass cheeks and his fingers, visibly noticeable as he pulls out of me, moving his index and middle fingers to my throbbing clit.

as he rubs, i moan loudly, my eyes shut while he motions himself in front of me. he kneels on the bed, using his free hand to line up his length with my pussy. he pushes himself in slowly, as a way to warn me of what's to come. he was big, and it was now very obvious as he had already filled a substantial portion of my insides with not even half his cock. i nod with reassurance, allowing him to push himself into me, so deep his balls were pressing against my folds.

xavier begins to thrust, pulling his hand away from my clit and taking a hold of my own hand, lacing his fingers with mine. he smushes our lips together, the kiss entrancing the both of us as we become one through a sinful, yet so beautifully pleasurable act.

"you feel so good, [y/n]... dead or alive, this is the best pussy i've ever had in my life.. i never want to stop fucking you, baby.." xavier compliments me, giving me a wink as he raises himself back up. he keeps our hands together, thrusting himself inside as he lets out small moans, and continues to speak his sexual, dirty words to me.

he looks down at me, watching as my tits bounce with each one of his rapid, fast-paced movements. "how do you like this cock, sweetheart? so thick and long for you, hmm? you make me hurt with lust, babygirl. you make me want to cum deep inside you."

"please, xavier. please cum inside me.." i moan, nodding as i look up at him, my mouth hung open as he rocks my body in the bed. "that's all i want right now, for you to fill me up so good.. i need you so bad.. i need you to fill my pussy.. fuck.."

"and that i fucking shall." xavier pushes inside of me with one last deep thrust, filling my walls with his warm, thick seed. he pulls out, a small portion of white trailing from his head and to my pussy lips.

i sit up, panting as i pull myself off the bed, leaning down onto my weak, shaking knees. i place my lips on the tip, sucking the excess down my throat. he shivers at my touch, moving one hand to cup my cheek and insist i stand back up.

"maybe tomorrow night you can reward me with head, baby. you've got a big day soon." he pecks my lips, handing me the towel off the floor. "so why don't you go clean up, again, and i'll see you soon."

i smirk, nodding as i wrap the towel around my top. "xavier, please join me. maybe i'll wash your hair this time." i wink, watching him pull his boxers up.

he laughed, shaking his head. "i hate to reject the offer, sweetheart, but i need my beauty sleep, too. go get some sleep, because tomorrow night will be far longer than tonight's."

i turn around, my cheeks burning as i open the cabin door and shut it behind me, walking back to the showers. i couldn't believe i had just let a ghost fuck me, and that ghost being the xavier plympton. maybe i'd have to stick around camp meadow for longer than this week after all.

[ a/n - i did want to mention i will be writing much more in a few weeks - finals and college/work in general has been consuming a lot of my time lately, but i am hoping to find some inspiration for new fics soon! ]

#xavier plympton #x yn #x reader #xavier plympton smut #ahs 1984 #ahs smut #ahs fandom #american horror story #ahs apocalypse #xavier plympton imagine #xavier plympton x reader #cody fern

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e-wills-afterhours · 5 months

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Pretentious Coffee, Chapter 1

A/N: Yes, my friends. Behold! The return off my wildly popular Hiccstrid coffee shop/college modern AU. I am working on chapter 7 of Vetrnaetr as we speak. Since writing that take quite a bit of time and effort, I thought I would edit and post this oldie (but still a goody?) in the meantime. The fic also takes place around the Christmas season, so, well...why the hell not, amirite???

I also once saw someone say the characters' names should reflect modern names in a modern au. But...I don't care. You know who I'm writing about, and changing the names is cumbersome, so I've dropped the pretense. *jazz hands*

Rating: 18+

Pairing: Hiccstrid

---

Astrid’s head ached from the aftereffects of the previous night’s party. Between the deafening music, the pervasive smell of marijuana, beer, and vomit, and the morning’s brutal hangover, she vowed never to accompany her roommate to another “small get together” again. Ruffnut couldn’t be trusted. Astrid was unsure the other woman understood the concept of responsible, well-mannered entertainment. Like her twin brother, Ruffnut lived for the extreme, and Astrid had been their collateral damage more than once.

Hence her current state.

It was almost noon and she was standing in line for overpriced coffee in a tiny corner shop she never visited. It was cramped, but quiet; unlike the student café on campus.

Astrid was not one for caffeine, but she needed a pick-me-up to salvage the remainder of her weekend for studying. Unfortunately, her midterm exams would not pass themselves.

“Next,” the barista droned.

Astrid glanced up, scanning overhead chalkboard menu framed by poorly drawn snowflakes—to complement the abysmal weather outside, she supposed. Her eyes darted around, but settled on nothing in particular.

There were ten different kind of specialty coffees, an assortment of seasonal hot drinks, traditional coffee brews, and another half of the menu dedicated to blended concoctions.

Inexperienced in the ways of coffees and lattes, Astrid found it all a bit overwhelming.

“You know, this would be a whole lot easier on the both of us if you had—I don’t know…bothered to glance at the menu when you were waiting in line, nothing to do.”

Astrid blinked, staring at the barista who was leaning on the counter, propped up by his elbows. He quirked an eyebrow at her, and she was taken aback, torn between gaping at his rudeness and scowling back. She imagined her face did some odd sort of spasm between the two while she fumbled a response.

“I’ve never been in here before!” she blurted in her defense.

“Neither has that guy, but he ordered in two seconds,” the barista sighed, nodding toward the gentleman waiting for his drink in the pick-up area. “Blissfully uncomplicated.”

Astrid folded her arms, feeling herself bristle under the layers of winter clothing. “I don’t drink coffee.”

He laughed, straightening up. His name badge caught the light and her gaze flickered down to read HICCUP.

“Yet…you’re in a coffee shop?” he asked, his otherwise bored tone punctuated with burgeoning amusement.

Astrid rolled her eyes, dropping her arms to the side. “I didn’t mean I never—“ She stopped abruptly, feeling her temper rise at the gap-tooth smirk across the counter. She tore off her gloves and stuffed them in her purse for something else to focus on. “Well, I guess there’s a first time for everything, huh?” she sassed back.

“And this is the place you chose. Lucky me.”

She glared at him, leaning in. “Working real hard for that tip, aren’t you?”

He genuinely grinned. “The whole twenty-five cents you weren’t going to pay me to begin with? I’m devastated.”

Astrid’s headache was getting worse she knew who to blame. She huffed, rubbing her forehead. Her eyes were scrunched closed, half with pain, and half with exasperation. If she wasn’t already miserable from excessive drinking, “Hiccup” would have made her so.

“Look,” she hissed. “I’ll take the…gingerbread latte, small. Can you put an extra shot of espresso in that?” She shook her head as he opened his mouth to answer, disinterested in whatever snarky remark he had to share. “Oh, never mind. Just do it—and if it’s one of those girly coffees with whipped cream, you can just leave that off.”

Hiccup uncapped a sharpie and started scribbling on the side of an empty cup. “Extra-pretentious coffee with a generous dusting of privilege…”

“What?” she barked, wringing the strap of her purse like it was his neck.

If only.

Hiccup’s expression was neutral.

“A small gingerbread latte with an extra shot, hold the whipped cream. Why? What did you hear?” He passed the empty cup to the other barista working the espresso machine. “That’ll be three-fifty.”

Astrid rummaged around for her wallet, pulling out a crinkled five dollar bill and shoving it into his hand rather forcefully. He made change, and there was something about his even visage that was as infuriating as his snarky quips. Without a single word, Astrid still felt like he was making a mockery of things—his job; the coffee he served; her.

She tucked the change away, fingers cramming it down bitterly, all save for one quarter to hold over the tip jar. When Hiccup’s eyebrows arched in surprise, she withdrew it in spite. He just laughed, much to her increasing annoyance.

Apparently, along with his lack of professionalism, he did not have the capacity to take things seriously—but it wasn’t Astrid’s problem that he didn’t want to be tipped. For some reason, it bothered her all the same.

Hiccup splayed a hand over his chest, ruefully eyeing the quarter. “You’re breaking my heart.”

She scoffed and marched toward the back of the shop near the coffee pick-up. There was a small table by the window where she could watch the cathartic dance of the snowfall outside. It was something to gaze at with unfocused eyes as she ran through her flash cards for political science.

Of her upcoming exams, she feared that one the least, deciding it was the best content to review until her brain began firing on all cylinders again.

She shrugged off her jacket and her scarf, draping them over the back of the chair. She had been feeling heated, thinking it was her interaction with a certain intolerable barista, but as she sat down, she noticed just how warm the shop really was. With less layers, it was actually pleasant, and she pulled out ring of flash cards from her purse.

Not more than four cards in, her latte was delivered by a tall, gangling figure—fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how one looked at it—and her mood soured, until she saw the water bottle set down alongside her drink.

“For the hangover,” Hiccup explained, no attitude to spare. “Works better than espresso, anyway.”

Astrid stared up at him, puzzled.

It was in the daylight filtering through the window that she finally saw him properly, and that face, so unassuming and unimpressed by everything around him, rang a bell. Something about those eyes and that irritating carelessness lit a match in her memory—but it was only a tiny flame, incapable of illuminating the bigger picture. She did not know when or where, but she was sure she had seen him before. It was dim inside that little coffee shop, but closer to the window, Hiccup had eyes that were not easily forgotten.

He quirked his brow again and only then did she realize she had been staring.

“What makes you think I have a hangover?” she asked, wishing she had not noticed the familiarity in his tone.

Too suddenly, she was noticing other things—his jawline and stubble, and the flattering fit of his black work slacks. Objectively, he was easy on the eyes, and it was a great cosmic injustice that he did not have the corresponding personality.

“Maybe it’s the fact you’re in here studying in the middle of a Saturday, trudging through crappy weather, spending too much on coffee you never drink, and squinting excessively?” he replied. “Or maybe it’s just a barista’s intuition?”

Astrid snorted, but reached for the water. Her throat was becoming drier the longer he stood there.

“Your intuition is shit because I’m not squinting. I’m glaring, and you’re the reason.”

Hiccup rubbed the back of his neck, smirking. “Okay, Ms. Not-hungover. Consider it a midterm special—coffee and water.”

“And what do I owe you for this ‘midterm special?’”

With a straight face, he answered, “A quarter would suffice.”

Astrid sneered, reaching for her purse. “You’re such an idiot.”

She produced the quarter, holding out to him with a flat stare.

“Maybe I am, but I’m not the one hungover the weekend before midterms—ah! Excuse me. Not-hungover,” he said, walking away with his hands up.

“Jackass,” she muttered, raising her latte to her lips. She yelped and nearly dropped the cup, fanning herself furiously as the drink scalded her.

“Beginner’s tip: Coffee is usually hot,” Hiccup called from behind the counter.

Astrid continued to glare at him, even after he had looked away. She still held him in her sights, even after her expression softened a bit.

#hiccstrid #hiccstrid fic #httyd modern au #hiccstrid modern au #pretentious coffee AU

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littleladymab · 12 days

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Fic Authors Self-Rec!

Ahhhh thank you @fourteenfifteen for the tag! (You can find Hen's post over here!)

Rules: When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let's spread the self-love

Also I'm totally going to CHEAT, because I absolutely LOVE my two big series that are NOT popular at all LMAO

the scars that we're made of series! This is my "Star Wars Rebels S5" fic. This is my "did you hate the ahsoka show for yes girl giving us nothing??" this is my "do you also want to know what happens after rebels but don't want it to be EXCLUSIVELY thranto?" THIS IS MY FAVORITE SERIES I'VE WRITTEN like the whole thing top to bottom bangers imo It's not yet finished, I still have to write my Eli prequel but honestly, if you love Rebels, read this! Here's the tumblr post for main fic, far from the world that i made.

inside every open eye series! This is a fantasy Magnus Archives fic, in which Sasha steps in to take over the role of the Archivist after Jon goes missing during a ritual for the Beholding. I love a lot of the visuals from this, and I loved writing for Sasha -- plus there's a lot of fun side-stories. This one is complete! Here's tumblr post for the main fic, tiny cracks of light.

my place to land. What is UP SIGNET/ECHO NATION, ALL FIVE OF YOU! I wrote a novel for my rare pair because i am actually three bodyguard AUs in a trench coat captaining the good ship I made up. Twilight Mirage is still my favorite fatt season, because it is exactly my aesthetic and also, Signet is there. This is still one of my favorite fics, even though I can think of many things that i would change upon a rewrite. I got a lot of amazing gift art from friends when I was updating it, too, and I treasure everyone who came to read it!! It is currently still the longest fic in the fatt tag, but not for long it does look like there is someone rapidly catching up with 74k on a 6/14 chapter fic. It was fun while it lasted! Unfortunately, twitter moments went kaput so I will have to figure out some other way to put all the wonderful fanart everyone made for me!

'til my lungs burn bright. Affectionately called my "regency magic spies AU" for Ace Attorney, specifically this is for AA4/Klapollo!! This is a sequel to a fic I haven't finished yet! (Someone encourage me to finish the main fic! it's what i'm supposed to be working on this month!!) I love this setting SO much and I loved making all the little references to in-game moments. Here's the tumblr link to the fic ;) I had a hard time picking between this and my sleeping beauty klapollo au.... Also shout-outs to Joanie for doing the WONDERFUL art for it!!! (I should actually go put it in-line with the fic text too oops)

Theseus' Ship. The Anders Defender has LOGGED THE FUCK ON. That's it that's the post. No okay, it's an Anders character study and i think it absolutely slaps. Here's the tumblr link to the fic!

Bonus very short fic that I still enjoy, which you can also read even if you're not in the fandom, but Five Steps To Ensure Your Soulmate Becomes a Ghost from Rusty Quill Gaming.

Honestly I love everything I write because I am an audience of me first. The current version of my masterpost has links out to a lot of my fics from different fandoms -- like some of my other friends at the table content and my jgm labyrinth au and my lockwood fic! That's my best piece of advice: love what you write, and write for yourself first! And then the two little freaks in your group chat second 💞 I wouldn't have been able to do most of these fics without the besties, so thank you to everyone who has read my novel-length fics.

Tags: Scrambling to think of any of my fic writing friends let's goooo @luukeskywalker, @mariusperkins, @lesbianahsokatano, @redtailedhawk90, @bardicspiration, @krisseycrystal , @strangeharpy and there's so many of you i love you all, please go flaunt your writing and talk about your five favorite fics!! and tag me!!

#a lil miss fic #just generally a huge shoutout to kaite for being my number 1 hype man i couldn't do this without u bestie!!!#argh does anyone know why tumblr will untag people but still pretend like they're tagged

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cheesybadgers · 11 months

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Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 19)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 7,943

Summary: Javier and Horacio deal with the aftermath of a fraught morning and try to make the most of life in Madrid. Meanwhile, Señora Romero and Chucho have some words of wisdom (as usual) for them.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Emotional smut (including ass play, spanking and aftercare), brief discussions of PTSD symptoms and healing, grief and parental loss, discussions of sexuality/coming out, allusions to period-typical and historical prejudices, smoking, swearing.

Notes: So, here's the second part of their Madrid adventures at last! But where to next? 👀 I'm currently working on chapter 20, which is taking a while because life, and also I swear the closer to the end I get, the harder it is to write lol.

Thank you once again to anyone still reading, or anyone who has recently jumped on board this emotional rollercoaster. I'm blown away by the comments I've received over the last couple of years and I still love hearing from people, so please feel free to drop me a line if you'd like to ❤️

I’ve also added to my OHDH trivia post to cover this chapter if anyone is interested.

Whilst obviously I do not own Narcos or its characters, please do not copy, re-post, or plagiarize this fic in any capacity on this or other platforms. If you wish to create any fan works inspired by it, please provide a credit or send me a message if in doubt.

Chapter 19: In The Same Boat

After breakfast and back at their apartment, Horacio took a shower, relieved to finally be rid of his running clothes now that the sweat had long since dried.

Javier soon joined him, capturing his waist from behind as eager lips met salty wet skin.

Horacio didn’t question why Javier was on his second cleansing of the day, instead nudging against the ridge of his shoulder, letting the steam envelop them and the hot jets wash away the stress of an eventful morning.

They wanted answers about what happened in their absences, but for now, their bodies did the talking. They gave into unspoken needs and an insistent craving to be as close as possible now further hurdles had been overcome, even if they weren’t sure which ones yet.

If Javier was hungrier and more demanding with what he took, Horacio indubitably noticed but didn’t object. How could he mind Javier’s nails scraping and scoring, marking Horacio like conquered territory?

Or the way he crouched between Horacio’s spread legs, parting generous handfuls of firm flesh, mouthing and biting with fervour along each buttock towards their inner seams, the bristle of facial hair scratching in all the right places.

Javier was guided by the moans above him as his nose pressed forwards, licking a trail north and south, alternating between flattening his tongue and outlining meandering patterns, skirting down to Horacio’s perineum and back up. Because anything less wouldn’t have been enough.

All Horacio could do was steady himself against the wall with one hand, the other rolling over supple skin and the taut ridges of his pectoral and abdominal muscles, ebbing and flowing like the Sierra de Guadarrama, a bittersweet reminder of his Andean homeland on their doorstep.

He engulfed and tweaked his nipples, journeying below the soft slope of his stomach and groin, fondling his balls, his fingers briefly making contact with Javier’s mouth and grounding them instantly.

A desperate growl rumbled through Horacio’s chest as he clenched his fist around the shaft of his cock and tugged in time with Javier lapping at the tight ring of muscle until he broached it. Shallow thrusts to begin with, increasing the depth and pace the fiercer Horacio shook and shuddered.

Javier never grew tired of being the one to reduce Horacio to a lascivious wreck, knowing it was an honour exclusively bestowed upon him, made even sweeter now they were no longer looking over their shoulders, waiting for a cruel twist of fate to intervene.

With that thought fresh in Javier’s mind, he didn’t hold back, devouring with ravenous greed, the ache in his knees insignificant compared to the sounds he was drawing from Horacio, who was all wounded grunts and choked back sobs, and it was music to Javier’s ears.

It didn’t take much for Horacio to fall apart on the fire of Javier’s tongue and the ice of his own iron grip, his eyes screwed shut and his spare hand thumping against the porcelain tiles as he came with a silent cry, teeth clamped down on his bottom lip for the benefit of their neighbours.

Once Horacio had recuperated, Javier peeled himself off the floor and manoeuvred them under the faucet, their mouths fusing together as they rinsed off. There was no let-up, the rough collision of limbs building momentum until Javier’s breathless invocations echoed as loudly around the room as the sweet percussion of a palm against his ass, a slow burn blush blooming with each prayer answered.

“Are you sure?” had been Horacio’s first question, always compelled to check in whenever Javier displayed vulnerability like this.

But Javier was certain. He needed it in the way his lungs sucked on air. Needed Horacio to hold the reins now, to clear his mind so he could focus on the present. On every sensation, word of encouragement and exhalation. To leave physical evidence on Javier’s body, an undeniable reminder that Horacio was here, safe, and trusted to take care of him precisely how he desired.

So, who was Horacio to refuse? Not when Javier’s supplicating gaze scorched his own, kindling an inscrutable and mortifying urge to sink to his knees and recite the Pledge of Allegiance.

But instead, he positioned Javier facing the tiles, smoothing his hand back and forth, massaging each pert cheek to stimulate the blood flow, letting the anticipation build because he knew that was part of the thrill for Javier, not knowing when he would strike.

Seconds of stillness followed; the steady stream of water the only sound to be heard until Horacio permeated the silence with the flat of his palm.

He started off with little more than a mild tap, gauging where Javier was at, easing into it and letting him dictate how far this went.

A series of progressively bracing swats came next, alternating from side to side, caressing the areas he targeted as a balm to the prickling heat. “You’re doing so good for me, Javier,” he praised, his free hand stroking up and down Javier’s back in reassurance. “Tell me what you need.”

Javier’s forehead rested on his hand against the wall, his teeth wedged into his fist whenever Horacio let loose. “I need more,” he stated after taking a deep breath, knowing Horacio would waver in granting his request without such succinct clarity.

Several more vigorous slaps ensued, causing something between a huff and a groan to release from Javier’s throat as his body jerked and his cock twitched. “Harder,” came his response no sooner had the vibrations reached the seat of his ass.

Horacio took his time despite Javier’s demand, subduing with delicate circles as though polishing fine glass, allowing the cascading water to counteract the sting.

There was an agonising pause, rendering it impossible for Javier to second guess when it would end until it was too late.

A crystal clear thwack crackled through the air, followed by another and another, sending Javier into a wave of spasms that left bite marks on the back of his hand and tears welling in his eyes.

He was sure there must be pain buried beneath the pleasure that he would feel later, but for now, he was floating, delirious, gone. Fuck any drug the cartels had to offer because no way in hell could it ever be as good as this.

But he was determined not to take himself in hand or grind against the tiles; that was too easy. This required complete concentration and discipline, reducing Javier’s existence to nothing but Horacio’s touch and his response.

“Horacio, please.” He panted out his final beg for mercy, knowing it wouldn’t take much more to bring him home.

Horacio couldn’t be sure if it was the light glinting in the trickling water droplets, illuminating the imprint of his hand that had him fraying at the edges, or how his palm tingled, triggering a chain reaction all the way down to his groin again. But before he could stop himself, he covered Javier’s back with his body, his left hand meeting Javier’s on the wall.

The scent of Javier’s shampoo was potent, intoxicating, and lethal as Horacio buried his face in a mass of thick, damp hair, almost knocking the wind out of them simultaneously. They kept still, both trying to deepen their tremoring breaths, Horacio counting to 10 in his head and Javier closing his eyes in preparation.

Horacio retreated, leaving his left hand connected with Javier’s whilst his right resumed its position, gently cupping and kneading, teasing his knuckles between Javier’s cheeks.

There was a lull in movement, the tide receding as a prelude to the incoming tsunami, their pulses deafening in their ears as time froze and suspended them in a torturous self-imposed vacuum.

But then a seismic release set them free, plunging Javier’s weight against the tiles, no amount of chewing on his fist able to suppress the whimpered cry or control his quivering form as he came with Horacio’s name somewhere on the tip of his tongue but lost amidst the onslaught of concentrated bliss.

He couldn’t move even if he wanted to, merely trying to breathe whilst Horacio removed the shower hose from its cradle, letting the restorative warmth of the water soothe the tenderness, the temperature gradually reducing to lukewarm then cooler once Javier was accustomed to it, extinguishing the flames.

Horacio dried them off, dabbing the towel meticulously over Javier until he replaced it with chaste kisses then sweet almond oil, mapping a path across his ass, covering every inch, and taking extra time with the rawest patches of skin. He needed this part of the ritual as much as Javier did. Needed to be the caregiver at both ends of the spectrum and to still be touching Javier because that was what he needed in return.

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They delayed dressing in favour of entangling themselves beneath the bedsheets after rehydrating and sharing a bowl of fresh strawberries bought from their favourite food market the previous day. It wasn’t as though they had anywhere to be, after all.

A solitary cigarette passed between them, the only nicotine-fuelled vice of the day worth having anymore. It was customary for either man to trace patterns through chest hair as he took a drag, their fingers and lips meeting somewhere in the middle, transferring cigarette and smoke in one smooth motion.

Their cigarette was now stubbed out in the ashtray by the bed, swapped for playing with each other’s hands whilst Javier lay tucked into Horacio’s side.

His fingers skimmed over the coarse edges of Horacio’s, sliding to the softness at the centre of his palm, then down to his wrist. Javier lingered until he got what he came for, the slow, steady beat keeping his own rhythm in check after a fraught start to the morning.

From there, Horacio dusted kisses across Javier's knuckles until Javier unfurled his fingers, offering them up for the same treatment, and Horacio gladly obliged.

It could have been minutes or hours they lay like this, lost in touch, neither wanting to break the spell.

But as Horacio’s hand snaked up Javier’s torso, pausing to play with the warmed silver chain, he folded first. “I’m sorry I was late.”

“You don’t need to apologise for being cornered. These things happen.”

“It wasn’t just that, though.” Horacio stroked his thumb over the surface of the cross. For comfort or courage, or both, he wasn’t sure. He explained everything about Álvaro, even down to the disconcerting parallels he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge. “He could’ve been me, Javier. He was me. And if it hadn’t been for you – for us – I think he still would be. Either that, or I’d be dead.”

“But he’s not you. You’re not that man anymore. Look how far you’ve come, Horacio. You got out. And you found your inner cowboy.”

Horacio gave Javier a withering look, ignoring the devilish spark in his eyes. “I’m not a fucking cowboy.”

“But that’s what you want, though, right? To be a rancher?”

Horacio had thought long and hard about this, especially when confronted with the ghosts of his old life. Any worries about being lured back in were swiftly abated. If anything, it confirmed what he, deep down, already suspected. “Yeah, I think I do. But only if you still want to move back to Texas.”

“I thought I’d never move back. But after I left Colombia, you seemed so at home. And for once, so did I.” Javier didn’t say the rest out loud because he didn’t need to. His book dedication had done it for him.

“I was,” was all Horacio managed to get out before he kissed Javier, unhurried and thorough.

“It’s not like I’ve got any career plans lined up elsewhere anyway,” Javier added once they pulled apart.

“There’s still time to figure it out.”

A knowing smile passed over Javier’s lips. “That’s what Señora Romero said this morning. After I fucking lost it because you were a few minutes late.” His smile morphed into a self-deprecating scoff, traces of embarrassment still left over despite the kindness he had been shown.

“What?”

Now it was Javier’s turn to open up; for the second time that day. He reclined against Horacio’s chest, the fingers stroking through his hair relaxing his mind and muscles as he talked.

“Fuck, Javier, I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, hey, no. It’s not your fault. And it’s not your responsibility to fucking babysit me. I was fine after a drink and a pep talk.”

Horacio strained his neck to meet Javier’s eye with an incredulous look.

“Okay, well, after that, then.”

“I didn’t go too far, did I?”

“No. It was perfect,” Javier replied without hesitation, meeting Horacio’s gaze head-on and with ease. A simmering afterglow had overtaken the initial sensitivity, but he was confident he would feel it for the rest of the day, maybe even tomorrow if he was lucky. “Was, er, was it good for you too?”

The luscious whip of his palm was still vivid in Horacio’s mind, along with Javier’s pleas for more and the spiral of his tongue as he fucked and feasted. Not to mention how the tension they had been carrying throughout the morning visibly dissipated in the aftermath.

“I think perfect just about covers it,” he replied, hunting down Javier’s mouth again before they collapsed into each other’s arms.

“Señora Romero’s been through a lot too,” Javier said after a soporific silence almost tempted them towards slumber.

“I know. She never talked about it much. But after the bombing, she mentioned Spain was always carrying old wounds.”

“I guess we all are. So, there are bound to be bad days sometimes.”

Horacio hummed in agreement against Javier’s forehead. “I should’ve been there with you, though.”

“You’re here now.”

Another string of kisses followed, the next more charged than the last. Because now wasn’t just tomorrow, the next day, week, month, or even year. Now was the rest of their lives.

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They could easily have whiled away the rest of the day in bed. But the sun’s heat had broken through the haze of early morning fog by lunchtime, and it was the ideal afternoon for a walk around El Retiro Park.

The park was rarely quiet, but it was vast enough to disperse the crowds into all corners. They started with the gardens and fountains, one, in particular, stopping them in their tracks.

“Well, that’s…striking,” Javier said, cocking his head and taking off his aviators to get a better look at the imposing statue in front of them.

“La Fuente del Ángel Caído. The Fountain of the Fallen Angel. It’s the moment Lucifer was cast out of heaven.”

Javier turned to Horacio with a raised brow. “So, are you an expert in all artistic impressions of the devil, or just this one?”

Horacio feigned an irked glare. “I used to run this way sometimes with it being so close to the Consulate.”

“Oh, well, that’s a relief.”

It was the truth, but at that time of Horacio’s life, there was a strange and dark affinity to be found with the story of a fallen angel in exile. Occasionally, he would stop to study the fountain in all its horrifying glory, a visceral reminder of why he was here.

They quickly moved on to the Palacio de Cristal, the weather optimal for the impressive architecture above them. Sunbeams descended a halo down from the glass roof, a hush spreading through the crowd as they craned their necks in awe. It gave the building the peaceful atmosphere of a church, but it was a world away from the harsh wooden pew Horacio had prayed in every week.

Without meaning to, his hand brushed against Javier’s as they stood side-by-side, barely a hair’s breadth between them, and too subtle to be noticed by anyone around them.

Javier didn’t flinch, didn’t even look in Horacio’s direction, yet for the briefest of moments, their fingers connected in a way that could have been passed off as accidental if necessary. But of course, they knew there was nothing accidental about them whatsoever.

They came to the lake next, sitting on steps that led up to a grand monument by the water. On the base of it lay a statue of King Alfonso XII with three smaller ones beneath representing peace, freedom and progress, a stark contrast to the Fallen Angel.

“I never found the time to come down here before, but it’s a beautiful spot,” Horacio said, wishing he was wearing his Stetson now he was having to squint in the sun.

“Yeah, it is.”

Somewhere between arriving at the lake and finding a free spot, Javier exchanged conversation for staring out across the water.

Whilst watching the hire boats glide backwards and forwards, out of nowhere, he was reminded of the river back home. The traffickers made it look as easy as a leisure pastime. Like they never got the memo about the turbulent currents that required navigating life as the Rio Grande did, flowing in limbo and helplessly watching the gulf between each side widen like a splitting wound.

Javier vaguely remembered hearing stories from his Abuelas and Abuelos about their journeys across the border. But it wasn’t a subject he and Chucho talked about much. Officially, that was due to Chucho being so young at the time, but unofficially, Javier wasn’t stupid. He knew of the bleak dangers and challenges involved with moving to el otro lado, as he often heard the other side called, more so now than back then, and he always suspected there were stories his Pops would rather keep to himself.

“Hey, you still in there?”

Horacio’s voice brought Javier back down to earth. “Yeah. Sorry.”

It was typical of him to be sitting here ignoring Horacio and the scenery in favour of daydreaming about the very place they came here to take a break from. Their late morning interlude had apparently taken it out of him, and he was already reverting to losing himself in thought rather than focusing on the present.

But as Javier went through the day’s events, his attention still on the lake, an idea came to him. He could sense he was being watched as a playful smirk took hold. “Fancy a ride?”

It didn’t take long for Horacio’s mind to wander, despite the fact he could plainly see what Javier was referring to. Always the tease, which he’d no doubt pay for later. “Only if you take it in turns with the rowing.”

“Deal.”

Soon after, they set off from the jetty in a pale blue and white rowing boat. Horacio took the oar first, the reason already paying dividends as he watched Javier trying but failing not to fixate on Horacio’s arms.

“Nice view out here,” Horacio deadpanned.

Javier cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, triggering a welcomed reminder from a matter of hours ago and handing victory straight to Horacio. “You could say that.”

That was all Horacio had wanted in the way of revenge because two could play at that game.

They rowed in comfortable silence, taking in their picturesque surroundings and the fact it was easy to be around others yet still be alone here. From a quick glance at other boating parties, there was a diverse mix of groups and couples, and no one appeared remotely interested in them for a change. It was an antidote to the heavy conversations and emotions from earlier, even if that had been a necessary step for them to take.

“Do you think this still counts as a bad day?” Javier asked now that Horacio had taken a break from rowing, letting them slowly drift in the deserted end of the lake.

“A bad start, maybe. But I think we might’ve just about salvaged it.”

“Me too.”

Their eyes met across the boat, the afternoon light casting them in a golden hue. Their feet were the only part of them touching, both a frustration and a catalyst. But they knew that would be rectified once in the privacy of their apartment.

“We better be getting back,” Horacio said with reluctance. “Especially as it’s your turn to row.”

That earned him a “Fuck you” and a splash of water in his general direction.

But Javier accepted the oar, and set a course back to the jetty, Señora Romero’s words still echoing in his ears.

Because she was right; they couldn’t always be in the same boat. It was unrealistic to expect otherwise. But they could work hard to be as much as possible. They could take turns to bear the load, be the other’s anchor and cherish the times they succeeded. And today was proof of that.

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In the week before Easter, there were celebrations across the city for La Semana Santa. Whilst Javier and Horacio preferred peace and quiet to the processions through the streets, they couldn’t say no to Señora Romero’s invitation to a festive meal.

As it turned out, they were also roped into helping with food preparations in exchange for an extra pitcher of lemonade and leftovers to fill their freezer up to the brim.

Señora Romero’s family were to visit the next day, so they made multiple batches, and it was all hands on deck. They prepared an array of dishes, including espinacas con garbanzos, empanadas, croquetas de bacalao, bartolillos madrileños, buñuelos de viento, flores fritas, and torrijas, passing along their contributions like a conveyer belt, Señora Romero issuing instructions without even looking up from her work.

“My Mamá would’ve evicted us from the kitchen by now,” Javier said after his first attempts at frying flores fritas resulted in a sea of uneven misshapes floating in the pan of hot oil.

“No such luck today, Javier. Try holding the mould for longer in the oil after each one. The batter won’t stick to it if it’s not hot enough.”

Javier did as he was directed. And lo and behold, Horacio soon was sprinkling sugar and cinnamon over light, crisp, fully-defined flowers.

“And give yourselves some credit,” Señora Romero continued, finishing cutting up her empanada dough and spooning filling into the segments. “Your tamales are delicious. My lot will be lucky if there are any left by tomorrow. You’ll have to tell me your secret.”

Repeating their success from Laredo had been a challenge in their apartment kitchen as it wasn't as well-equipped or organised as Chucho’s. There must have been something about the simple domesticity of the situation that appealed to them – or perhaps memories from the guesthouse – as they found a pleasing way to pass the time whilst their tamale fillings cooked, involving Javier sitting on top of the kitchen unit, legs wrapped around Horacio and their hips grinding together. They didn’t undress, the friction of their jeans enough to have the desired effect.

“Oh, just plenty of practice over the years.” Javier's tone was guileless, although the roguish expression he fixed Horacio with told another story.

The heat rising in Horacio’s cheeks rivalled the pot of oil simmering on the stove, and it was time to rescue the conversation fast. “Erm, yeah, the pork ones are my Abuela Margarita’s recipe. Alejandra and I made them every Christmas. My Papá would watch us like a hawk. He said it was so we didn't burn the house down, but I think he wanted to be first in line for the tamales.”

It seemed stupid in hindsight, but Horacio looked forward to his Papá checking up on them like that because it at least meant he was home and spending time with them rather than with his work. It meant he was proud of Horacio, even if it was in the most trivial of ways.

“My Mamá made them when I was a kid. Pop insisted on the beef being from our best cattle, though, because he always wanted the best for us." The mischief in Javier's eye had been replaced with something more earnest. That had been the one role his Mamá allowed his Pops to undertake when it came to the tamales, and it was a role taken seriously.

“So many of my family’s traditions started in the kitchen. Recipes I use in the café were handed down to me through the generations, ones I’ve made with care and love; over and over again. What better way to remember those no longer around?" Señora Romero broke off to place her tray of egg-washed empanadas into the oven. "And that would certainly explain it too.”

“Explain what?” Horacio asked.

“Your secret,” she replied with a simple smile, as though it was the most obvious statement anyone could ever have made.

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The morning passed in the blink of an eye as they filled the apartment with a tempting blend of aromas, and it was late afternoon when they sat down to enjoy the fruits of their labour.

Plates, bowls, and dishes filled the table, and they tucked into a feast that rivalled one of Chucho’s. Not that Javier dared to ever tell his Pops that.

Once they had eaten as much as their stomachs allowed and chatted over coffee long past sunset, Javier bid Señora Romero goodnight, taking two large Tupperware boxes of leftovers back to their apartment, a haul that would stave off hunger for at least a month or two.

Horacio stayed behind to help Señora Romero clear up the kitchen. He was the designated washer whilst she dried, on account of knowing where to put each item back in its rightful place.

Once all the cutlery, cups, and plates were washed, Horacio refilled the sink, a comfortable lull in conversation settling over them.

“It was him, wasn’t it?” Señora Romero asked after she delivered a second load of dishes to be washed. “When I asked if there was someone back home.”

Horacio switched the tap off now the sink was full, concentrating intently on swirling soap suds and a cloth around the serving bowl he had plunged under water. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you.”

“Oh, don’t be silly, dear. You didn’t owe me an explanation then, and you don’t owe me one now. I understand when the newspapers have been no better than the days of Franco. And mark my words; those were dark, dark days.”

A righteous anger erupted from the surface in Señora Romero’s tone. It was one that Horacio had rarely heard but recognised and understood instantly.

“Spain’s old wounds,” he stated rather than asked.

“On good days, I like to think of it more as scar tissue.”

“Makes sense.”

“We used to hide people whenever there were raids. Sometimes you’d know why they were hiding. Other times, you didn’t ask; you just did it. Anything to keep them from harm. So, please know that you and Javier will always be safe here.”

“Thank you. That means a lot.”

“How was it living in Texas?”

“There was gossip, a few looks and comments, as you can imagine. But Chucho, Javier’s father, was like – he treated me like family.”

“Sounds like we’d get along. And what about your family?”

“I, er, haven’t told them. Alejandra knows I’m here but not why or who I’m with. I never told her or my Mamá about Laredo either. So, I know I owe them the truth.”

“It’s your truth, and you decide if or when you share it with anyone else, Horacio. I can’t pretend to know your family, but if my child or brother had been through everything you have, I’d count my blessings he was alive and well. And happy.”

A palm landed on Horacio’s soapy hand resting at the edge of the sink, the last few dishes now cleared. He had no words to offer beyond thank you, even if that felt wholly inadequate.

He wished her goodnight, returning home to join Javier in bed, both wiped out after a busy day of good company and far too much food.

Horacio slotted himself in front of Javier, back to chest. Slow, deep exhales and groggy mumbles passed between them as Javier instinctively scooped Horacio closer to him, an acknowledgement of each other’s presence without the expectation of conversation.

Javier soon fell back to sleep, leaving Horacio caught somewhere in the middle as snapshots that could have been dreams or memories – or both – played like an old slideshow in his head.

In one, he and Alejandra were kids again, flicking water from the kitchen sink and squealing with delight. He couldn’t see them, but he knew their parents were in the next room as faint traces of their voices travelled through the house.

In another, Horacio was his current age, standing at the sink in what he remembered of Alejandra’s kitchen in Manizales. Every surface was piled high with dishes waiting to be washed and dried. A flash of movement in the corner of his eye revealed his Papá walking briskly across the room, his police uniform a vivid green even though the outline of his form was incorporeal.

Horacio followed and called after him as they made their way through the house, but there was no response. He looped back to where he started, his father now gone as he stood by the sink with hands submerged in hot, soapy water. He noticed the dishes stacked on the drainer were somehow clean, so pulled the plug, water whirlpooling down the drain until all that was left was suds…and a glint of gold. He reached through the bubbles until he was grasping his father’s necklace.

That was enough to pull him fully awake, the spasm in his limbs causing a chain reaction as Javier roused too.

“You okay?”

“Hmm, yeah, I think I was dreaming. I’m fine, though.” Horacio shuffled them around the other way, placing a reassuring kiss at the nape of Javier’s neck. “Go back to sleep.”

It was likely an exchange neither would remember in the morning. But as they settled down again, and Javier placed their hands over the crucifix at his sternum, Horacio swore he could feel an invisible weight around his own neck.

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The transition between spring and summer in Madrid was abrupt if you weren’t used to it. But one advantage to August was most Madrileños escaped to the coast or mountains for respite from the heat. It left the city emptier than usual, which was more than fine by Javier and Horacio.

It was a strange contradiction for them to seek refuge in a city as lively as Madrid when they preferred the tranquillity of ranch life these days, but city living brought anonymity. Las Posadas was like being under the microscope, whereas no one bothered them here.

Prime shaded spots in the park or the outdoor seating at cafés and restaurants were plentiful. And there were no problems hiring a boat at El Retiro Park before the hottest part of the day kicked in. Then they would hide out in their apartment during siesta hours.

It was doubtful if many people actually slept during siesta these days. But it did mean some shops closed for a few hours, and a general hush would fall over the city.

Sometimes, they would watch T.V. and old films or listen to the radio. Occasionally, Horacio would read aloud to Javier like last Christmas, the significance of Lorca’s words being spoken in their shared apartment, in this country not lost on them. On reflective days, it was rare but not unheard of for hands to connect, their cross clasped between their palms and their minds quiet.

There were also regular phone calls to Laredo, Miami and Medellín. It was funny; in the months they had been in Madrid, Javier had spoken more with his Pop than his entire time in Colombia. His Mamá was often a topic of conversation, Javier making sure to tell his Pops he’d been reading her book here as instructed.

“She always had her head in a book. And she always dreamed of travelling. She was like you when she was younger; she had her heart set on leaving Laredo. Even though your grandparents did everything they could to keep them here. But maybe that was why she wanted to spread her wings; I don’t know.”

“What changed her mind?”

“She met me.”

“Oh, well, good to know ruining lives is a Peña family trait.”

“Think of it as a gift, Mijo. I can’t take all the credit, though. She built herself a good community here. And then, she got involved with the farmers’ unions before she was ill. I think she was just getting started.”

They moved on to how Abuelito Mauricio never intended to settle permanently in Texas. He had left Abuelita Imelda and their brood – Chucho being the eldest – back in a rural town in Guanajuato, and he would send his wages home to them each month. Once the then-small plot of land he scrimped and saved to purchase grew, and made a profit, the rest of the family followed.

“What did Abuela Rosa and Abuelo Guillermo do again?”

“Your Abuelo ran a grocery store downtown, and your Abuela was a seamstress. She did more than that, though, especially in the ‘30s, when they nearly lost the store. Some of their extended family were repatriated back to Michoacán. And many of their customers left for Mexico too. So, they had no staff, and takings were down. Your Abuela managed every cent and dollar of their finances. She’d mend clothes for a small fee or in exchange for food to make sure they never went without.”

“Sounds hard.”

“It was. The ranch struggled too. There weren’t many workers left, and most people couldn’t afford a lot of meat. But we were luckier than most. Some never came back, and even those who did were strangers on one side of the border and a threat on the other. Things got ugly for a while.”

“What happened to the ones who came back?”

“They had to start from scratch again. Local charities were set up to help with travel costs, finding somewhere to live, reuniting separated families, that sort of thing. Your grandparents did what they could to help. It was your Abuelita’s idea to build the guesthouses. Your Abuelito took on labourers struggling to find work for the construction. Then they hosted a few families until they got back on their feet. I think that's why your mother wanted to keep them over the years – because someone always needs them.”

It wasn’t the first time Javier had been told about his family history, but it might have been the first time he asked. And it was strange how differently the same pieces of information could be interpreted depending on the stage of life in which they were shared. In his youth, it was hard to see the drawbacks of leaving Laredo. Because anywhere else had to be better.

But now, all he could think was how much of a throw of the dice it was. Too many families weren’t as lucky as his parents; they never got the option of crossing back over the bridge or pursuing the illusive American Dream. And if fate had decided otherwise, Javier could have grown up on the bank of the Río Bravo rather than the Rio Grande.

Chucho would also discuss ranch business with Horacio, updating him on staff changes, how the newborn calves were thriving, and the latest local gossip.

“Ciro’s thinking of selling up,” he informed Horacio one afternoon.

“Hasn’t he threatened that before?”

“Oh, plenty of times when his back plays up. Or when the weather’s on the turn. But Malena’s health isn’t so good now. And like me, Ciro’s not getting any younger. He was talking about moving closer to their daughter in San Antonio.”

Ciro and Malena Ortega owned the corn farm next door and had been there long since before Javier was born. They had always shared a close professional and personal relationship with the Peñas by selling them feed grain for the livestock and helping in any way possible during and after Mariana’s illness.

“Have they found a buyer? Or are we going to need a new supplier?”

“Not sure yet, to be honest, Mijo. I’ll keep you posted.”

They rounded off their catch-up with the latest on Luna’s, Sol’s and Leo’s adventures. But when Horacio discovered that Luna still waited outside the guesthouse door from time to time, he almost booked himself on the next flight to Laredo.

He had also managed to catch up with Trujillo a couple of times. But it was hard pinning down a busy Major tasked with clearing up whatever dregs were left of the Medellín cartel. After Steve opened his big mouth about Trujillo’s girlfriend, Horacio had half a suspicion he was being avoided deliberately.

In Miami, Connie was back in the E.R. part-time now Olivia was old enough for day-care. A promotion and countless commendations had been thrown Steve’s way since the New Year. If anyone suspected he was the source of the Cali intel – and both Javier and Steve knew someone would – they didn’t let on, apparently too busy getting off on the reflected glory of the Escobar circus.

“There’s a rumour we’re gonna be offered a fuckin’ book deal,” Steve said with a bemused snigger during one of their phone calls.

“A rumour from who?”

“My boss. My boss’ boss. Probably my boss’ boss’ boss. How about it, Javi? Fancy being an author now you’re unemployed? We could make a fortune.”

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” was Javier’s only response to that suggestion.

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

Regardless of what they did during siesta hours, one thing often led to another. They were hot and sweaty anyway, might as well fully commit or continue in the shower if the heat got too much.

Even though they didn’t have jobs to get back to, it was an indulgence to set aside time in the middle of the day for sex. It couldn’t have been further from their previous lives. But here, they could drag it out as long as they liked, teasing and edging each other, keeping their bodies still for as long as possible. It was as relaxing as it was arousing, intimate as much as it was erotic, and an apt way to spend downtime gifted to them by the city that once kept them apart.

This time, they had been reading on the bed before becoming distracted by lying mouth to cock in exquisite symmetry across the mattress. It was all bobbing heads and bucking hips swallowed down with muffled purrs of pleasure until they were satiated.

Fresh out of the shower, Horacio lay back on his pillow with a towel around his waist. From this angle, the mirrored wardrobe door reflected the image of Javier in the same attire as he shaved over the bathroom sink. There was still something sacred about witnessing the day-to-day rituals like this, and it was impossible to take them for granted.

“Did you always know?” Horacio asked once Javier re-joined him.

A vague question on the face of it, but Javier had already seen his copy of Giovanni’s Room on Horacio’s nightstand with a bookmark slotted in the centre of it.

“Not always. But there was this new ranch hand when I was about 10 or 11. He must’ve been 23, 24. I never spoke to him, just watched him work. I thought I wanted to be like him – I think everyone thought I’d follow in Pops’ footsteps back then. But, er, one summer, I walked in on him changing his shirt in the stables and,” Javier broke off with a boyish grin, “that was that.”

“So, that’s why you have a thing for cowboys.”

“Just the one cowboy these days, actually.” Javier shifted to face Horacio, fingers dipping beneath his towel seam until he squirmed. “Nothing ever happened with him; I was just a kid. I tried to ignore it, went to church, chased girls. And obviously, I couldn’t tell anyone. But it was always there in the background. Like some sort of...fucking unscratched itch. Then at high school, I met Antonio.”

Javier hadn’t said his name out loud in decades, but it stung more than expected. Antonio was Javier’s first…not quite everything, but it felt like it at the time. For almost two years, they were inseparable. They shared similar heritage and backgrounds, although Antonio’s family were crop farmers rather than ranchers. Not that it mattered when they had twice as much land to explore in the holidays or when Javier needed to escape the deafening quiet of the farmhouse now that it was just him and Pops. Or when they hid in the cab of one of Antonio’s father’s harvesters, passing a bottle of Chucho’s whiskey between them until they were drunk enough to take the plunge.

The following months were a whirlwind of exhilaration, fear, discovery and shame. Like the door had been unlocked on something that had never been a possibility until it was. However, they knew it couldn’t last. It had been a close enough call on the afternoon that Chucho came home earlier than expected. But the beginning of the end came when, without warning, Antonio’s family sold their farm and moved back to Mexico. Javier never did find out why, but once the place was up for sale, Antonio was no longer allowed to visit the ranch. And the only time they saw each other, and the only place they could say goodbye, was at school.

It was clear to Horacio that Javier wasn’t going to elaborate further. And if he wasn’t telling, Horacio certainly wasn’t asking. “I was in my first year at the Academy.”

“You about to make me jealous with stories of all the men in uniform you had your way with?”

“If you must know, there was just one…Andrés.”

Horacio hadn’t thought about him in a long time, a ghost from the past he preferred to keep there. He and Andrés were assigned to the same training barracks when they were cadets. There were supposed to be another two trainees sharing their bunkroom, but one withdrew his place at the Academy at the last minute; the other was a no-show at the first induction meeting and was automatically excluded.

Without the camaraderie of other cadets in their sleeping quarters, they had no choice but to rely on the other for company, which was no easy feat at the beginning when neither was particularly talkative. Bit by bit, they bonded over their work, discovering they both had fathers further up the ranks. It was often a bone of contention for other cadets, but that was never a problem between them.

There were subtle signs, lingering looks, and shared smokes even before they started gravitating towards each other in the shower blocks. Whilst there was an unspoken eyes-down rule that wasn’t worth a man’s life to break, when they were the last ones left under the spray, gradually, glance by glance, it was broken until their eyes locked, breathing hard, fists clenched by their sides. Nothing happened there and then, but it was a different story later that night behind the safety of a closed door and beneath starched sheets.

They never talked about it, couldn’t even if they’d wanted to, which they didn’t because there was nothing to acknowledge in the first place. Yet it happened again and a few more times after that, always under the cover of darkness, apart from one reckless time in the shower block when they didn’t have the discipline to wait, the thrill of it heightened and tempered by the possibility of being caught in the act.

But then, one morning, Horacio woke to find Andrés’ bed made and his belongings gone. He had requested and been granted a transfer to his father’s regiment without telling anyone. A perk of being a General’s son, Horacio supposed. He never heard from Andrés again.

“Even after him, I brushed it off as…circumstantial. An occupational hazard.” Disbelief caught in Horacio’s throat at the blatant denial in that sentiment, but it wasn’t like he knew better. Not when dread and nausea washed away any unnameable fleeting feelings that may have surfaced in his pre-Academy days. “Women were the only option, so I buried myself in work and tried to forget.”

“Before ‘81, right?”

“Yeah. So, maybe a blessing in disguise.”

“No maybe about it.” Javier’s sight line suddenly landed on the ceiling, even though he was the one who went there first.

This wasn’t a subject they liked to talk about, but there was no escaping the way the last decade and more had played out, even when they were neck-deep in the world of cartels and cocaine. Maybe now the dust had settled, and their minds weren’t so full of work, they were finally able to come to terms with all of it. Maybe now they could see so much of their pasts had been born out of fear.

“I still got tested when I was with Juliana, though. And with you.”

“I was the same after Lorraine. And definitely when I was in Colombia.” Javier couldn’t help but laugh, even though it wasn’t funny to think of those days anymore. Not because he was ashamed of sex, but he couldn’t deny it had been a sticking plaster at times. In his defence, despite the stance of the Catholic Church, he used condoms. Until Horacio, that was. “I never would’ve let you…if I hadn’t been sure.”

“Me neither.”

Horacio rolled on his side until they were face-to-face, his hand cupping Javier’s cheek, gently coaxing his gaze back to him.

Their lips met, both fully aware they had survived two war zones when the odds were stacked against them. When too many men like them hadn’t been so lucky. They had seen the headlines, the ostracization, the mishandling, and those in power looking the other way. But they were still here, alive and well. Surer of themselves and each other than ever before.

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Javier sat down at the kitchen table, bleary-eyed and reaching straight for the pot of coffee left waiting for him, the rich scent alone beginning to stir him awake. As much as he preferred staying in bed wrapped around Horacio, that wasn’t the most comfortable option at this time of year. At least there was still shade to be found outside at this hour, and Horacio was to bring back a breakfast of hot, fresh churros from Café Romero on the route home from his run. So, Javier could hardly complain.

He was several sips into his coffee when a key turned in the lock.

Horacio came through to the kitchen carrying the churros and what appeared to be a newspaper with a small envelope perched on top of it.

“Perfect timing, I’m starving,” Javier declared as he grabbed the bag and divided the churros across two plates.

Horacio murmured a vague “Me too” in reply. But his attention was focused on the envelope, which was addressed to him in familiar handwriting.

He tore the edge of it carefully and pulled out a card, a proud smile spreading across his lips after just a couple of seconds.

“What’s that?” Javier asked as he dusted excess sugar off his fingers.

Horacio handed the card over without elaborating.

Javier read it and soon had a smile to match Horacio’s. “I take it we’re going, then?”

“Of course we are.” He joined Javier at the table, his stomach swooping like he had missed a step on the stairs. “But I think I need to make a phone call first.”

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