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azrielbrainrot · 4 months

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Maybe We Could Be The Start of Something

Pairing: Band member!Azriel x College Student!Reader

Description: Your friends invite you to a bar and you could never imagine who you'd meet there.

Word Count: 3294

Warnings: none

Notes: I had this idea after seeing this art and couldn't stop thinking about it. I actually had a lot of ideas for little stories in this universe but it makes sense to start with how they met. Also I know that's a terrible band name but I never had to name a band before okay. I didn't proofread this because I think I'd delete the whole thing if I did, sorry. This is really self-indulgent but I hope you like it!

Band AU masterlist

You could only blame yourself for agreeing to meet Viviane. Your skull felt like it was going to split open with this headache that has lasted all week. The only thing you wanted to do right now was try to sleep it off under your warm blankets, but instead you willingly came to a bar knowing it was just going to make it worse.

She's been telling you about this place and the bands that perform here occasionally for ages. Apparently it's a real hotspot for up and coming musicians ever since two bands made it big after starting out here. You've been turning her down for weeks so you had promised her that you'd finally come this friday, of course when you agreed you couldn't have known your week was going to be absolute shit. Though most of your days have been shit lately. That might be the actual reason Viv has been so insistent about you going out with her, she knew your mental health was ready to take a vacation and was just being a good friend.

This really hadn't been a good day to come though. Aside from your headache, your last class had also run late, making you lose your bus and barely have time to drop everything off at home and change to come meet your friends. As a little treat you also couldn't find your nice black skirt so you had to just wear jeans, you definitely needed the extra confidence the pretty skirt provided but the universe didn't seem to care about that.

The bar was already packed by the time you got there, you were almost being pushed around while you were searching for your friends. You look down at your phone to ask them where they are and see a text from Viv asking if you're still coming. Reading it makes you stop in your tracks. You can't really blame her for thinking you wouldn't show up since you've been declining every invitation lately, but seeing that she thought you wouldn't even give her a heads up hurt a little. You knew you had been distant lately but you were trying your best to deal with life and you never meant to do it at the expense of your friendships.

You're pushed out of your thoughts when someone taps your shoulder gently, making you look back at them. Turning your head you were faced with a muscular chest, slowly looking up a tattooed neck to meet beautiful hazel eyes staring back at yours.

“I'm sorry to bother you,” he says, breaking eye contact for a second before continuing, “but I think you dropped this.” He raises his hand so you can see him holding your keys. Your house keys, the ones you would undoubtedly only notice were missing when you went back home and tried to open the door. That would have been the cherry on the cake after this whole day. Maybe you should see a witch to make sure it's not actually a curse, no one should experience this much bad luck.

“Thank you so much,” you almost yell as you grab them from his hand in excitement. He just saved you from having no place to sleep tonight. You notice him tensing up when your fingers brush against his hand and realize you might have made him uncomfortable. “I'm sorry,” you take a tiny step back in the crowded bar, “I would have been locked out of my apartment if you hadn't seen that. Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” he said, giving you a nod and something close to a smile, before going on his way. You curse yourself again for acting so awkwardly. You hope you didn't make him feel uncomfortable, he was nice in picking up your keys and giving them back to you. He was also really cute which only made it more of a shame that you met like this. At least you didn't lose your keys, that would have seriously sucked.

Making your way to the table Viviane told you they would be at, you notice almost everyone is here. She was leaning against her boyfriend, Kallias, while they listened to whatever story Alba was telling them about. Ezio and Celia were both looking down at their phones and showing each other something while giggling like schoolgirls. As much as you love your friends, you don't know how much socializing you can handle today. You already fucked up what could have been a very simple interaction. Then again, with all of them here you know Viv won't try to ask you about Eleanor so at least you can keep avoiding hard topics. Viv greets you with a grin as soon as she sees you, everyone following right after.

“Hey, thought you weren't coming after all.” Yeah, you almost forgot about that. You smile anyway, knowing she didn't mean to remind you of how much of a bad friend you've been lately.

“Sorry, guys,” you sit down in the empty chair next to Alba before continuing, “Class ran late and then I lost my bus.”

“Oh. Bad luck.” You have no idea, Kallias. Conversation picked back up after that and you let them do most of the talking, taking a back seat and just watching them. You're glad that they either noticed you weren't in a talking mood or just didn't realize you were mostly quiet anyway.

You have no new stories to tell them since you've barely been functioning outside of school and talking about your feelings is definitely a resounding no, especially at a bar, so you just let them keep up with their conversations and just nod along every once in a while.

Eventually, the DJ introduces the band playing tonight. The Night Court. Judging by the screams and the way everyone moves closer to watch, they're very popular around here and you understand part of the reason for said popularity as soon as you see them step up on stage.

“Oh, they're really good!” Viviane's voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “The guitarist is Mor's cousin. You remember her, right?” You nod. Of course you do. The blonde with sparkly eyeshadow and red lips leaves a big impression, forgetting Morrigan is probably impossible.

You study the guitarist as he introduces himself and the band. He's extremely handsome, the type of handsome that would make you think he can't be human, like some kind of fairy or vampire. You can tell he's aware of this fact with every honey dipped word that comes out of his mouth, literally flirting with the whole crowd. Despite not having many physical similarities with Mor, that allure he exudes definitely matches with hers.

The drummer was already sitting in place, looking eager to play. It takes you a second to notice he was in fact already sitting down as he's probably one of the tallest men you've ever seen in real life. But, with the messy shoulder length hair and big boyish grin on his face, he doesn't look scary at all.

As your eyes travel to the bassist, half hidden in the shadows, you wonder why you didn't recognize him immediately. It was the same guy that helped you before. You had thought he was beautiful before but, considering the situation, you didn't have much time to linger on that fact. However now that he was standing on stage, you could fully appreciate it. He was tall - this much you knew since you were at head level with his chest - and by the way his arms strained against his black t-shirt as he picked up his bass, you could tell he was fit too. He was looking down at the bass in his hands, making the few lights that caught him cast an ethereal glow on his face and on his onyx hair. This man looks like he stepped right down heaven's gates.

They start playing what you think is an original song but can't be sure since you were too distracted checking their bassist out to hear what Mor's cousin had said. He does have a really good singing voice but as your mystery angel starts singing, you can't help but feel bewitched back to watching him.

You barely take your eyes off him during the whole performance but they're all undeniably good. It's easy to understand why this bar is so popular if this is the level of talent their bands have. You can definitely imagine them making it big. They all seem very comfortable and content on stage and the crowd can't get enough of them.

You're so distracted by them that you don't even notice your head pounding anymore, or how fast time flies because, before you know it, they're saying their goodbyes to the crowd and leaving the stage.

Conversation starts back up after that, everyone is gushing about how talented and hot they are and you find yourself easily agreeing with their sentiments. But, with no distraction and the dj back playing songs you've heard a thousand times and the pressure of keeping conversation going, your headache comes back. You wait out just a little longer until you think it's an acceptable time to leave without worrying everyone too much.

“I'm sorry guys but I think I'm going to head home.” You finish the last of your drink even though it's mostly melted ice by that point and start putting your jacket on.

“Already?” You're not surprised Alba is the first to speak up. You'll never understand how this girl has so much energy, you had the same morning class as her but she's still as energetic as she was at lunchtime.

“It's still kind of early,” Viviane looks up at you with her icy eyes and you can recognize the concern in them immediately.

“It was just a busy week,” you explain with a smile on your face, hoping no one reads too much into it even though you all know that's not all. “I think I need to go sleep it off.”

“Are you going by yourself though?” Out of everyone at the table, Enzo is the worst one at hiding his emotions. You can see as clear as day that he's worried about you.

“I'll get an uber. Don't worry.” You gesture to your phone hoping they'll drop it.

“I can wait with you outside.” Kallias offers immediately, ever the responsible one. You really wanted to stay alone right now though.

“You don't have to.” You put your bag over your shoulder to add some finality to your words. “It's cold and there's going to be enough cars out at this hour, I won't be waiting for long.” It looks like he's about to say more but Viv puts a hand over his arm subtly, making him shut up. The bass of the music keeps hammering at your head so you don't linger and just say your goodbyes, waving at everyone with what you hope is a seemingly content smile, before leaving.

As soon as you step outside the pressure you feel starts slowing down. The front of the bar is still full of people so you walk a bit more to the little parking lot on this street. The air is cold but it feels amazing after being in the stuffed bar and your thoughts don't seem so overbearing when you don't have to try to act happy with your friends.

You love them to death but everything about how tonight went just proves that they've been talking about you behind your back. You know this is just them being good friends. You've been acting so differently in these last few months that even one of your professors noticed so it's only natural that they also did, but knowing everyone can tell only makes it worse.

You didn't want to make anyone worry about you. Life has just been going for your throat lately, minor inconveniences keep popping up and piling on top of what was already a pretty shitty situation. But you know once the semester ends, you'll get the chance to finally breathe and solve some of the problems you've been ignoring. And then things will hopefully get better. It just really sucks that your friendships and even school life has been affected by this.

Sitting down on top of the small wall that wrapped around the parking lot, you look up at the sky, willing your mind to let you rest for a bit. Watching the stars twinkling and your breath turn into white clouds of smoke because of the cold. You should probably get that uber and go home before any of your friends find you here, but your body doesn't want to move for some reason.

You feel someone approach you and look back down to meet familiar hazel eyes. You both stare at each other for a second longer than what would be normal, not expecting to see each other again.

“We keep running into each other,” you can hear his voice better here. You didn't notice how deep it was in the crowded bar. His singing voice is also deep but a bit softer than this.

“Yeah.” You smile. Seeing him again after how he helped you and then watching him on stage is making you a little giddy despite your somber mood. He seems a bit less unsure after you respond as well.

“Are you here alone?” He asks as he stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“No, I'm just waiting for an uber.” You hope you're not making a bad impression again. He probably hadn't seen you with your friends before either.

“Alright,” he looks over to what you assume is his car and then back to you, “I can wait here with you.”

“You don't have to. It's cold,” you start but he shakes his head before you even finish speaking, “I actually haven't called it yet.” He gives you a look of amusement and it just makes you try to explain yourself faster. “I have a headache. The cold just felt calming. I'll get it now.” Opening the app, you start searching and, just like you expected, there's a car barely 10 minutes away from you. A wave of disappointment washes over you at the thought that you won't get to talk to him for longer but you push it aside quickly, you barely know him.

“A bar probably isn't the best place to be if you have a headache,” he tilts his head slightly in what you're almost sure is concern. He's a little hard to read.

“I know but I already had told my friends I was coming so…” You shrug and change the subject, trying to allow this moment to let you forget about your earlier thoughts. “Didn't turn out too bad. There was this really good band playing today.” You can see a flush take over his cheeks and the tips of his ears and you feel incredibly proud of yourself for being the reason behind it.

“I'm glad you liked it,” he says as he dips his head slightly in thanks. You feel like this might be the best compliment you could have given him.

“You were all really good. I even forgot about my headache while I was watching you play,” you try not to sound too excited and make it weird but you want him to know how good his band is, “Do you perform here a lot?”

“Yeah,” he leans sideways against the wall next to you, “At least twice a month.” You're starting to notice that, although his face doesn't show too much emotion, his eyes are a little more expressive. His band seems to be a topic he likes talking about. You can understand why.

“Isn't that a big deal? I heard this bar is really popular nowadays, there has to be a lot of bands trying to perform here.” The blush seems to be back but it could also be because of the cold you're subjecting him to.

“We always try to do our best but we've been playing here for a long time. That helps too.”

“You know that's not it,” you point to the entrance of the bar, where some people are smoking, “The bar was packed. I don't know if that's how it always is but I'm pretty sure it was mostly people wanting to watch you perform.”

“You've never been here before?” It looks like he's getting a bit embarrassed by the praise so you let him change the subject.

You shake your head. “Need to come more often though. When are you performing again?”

“We don't always have a schedule,” he looks down at your phone in your hands then back up at you, “But I can text you the details.”

“Oh.” He wants your number. The thought makes warmth rush to your cheeks. “Alright.” You unlock your phone and hand it to him. While he's typing his number, you can't help but notice the scars on his hand. They completely cover his hands, the skin completely marred. It looks as if they were burned. You look away from them, not wanting to make him uncomfortable by staring. He hands you your phone back and you see he saved his number under his name.

“Azriel,” you say the name out loud, tasting it in your mouth. He's watching you a little more intensely than before and you have to break eye contact to stop yourself from blushing. You quickly send him a text so he can save your number as well.

“I'll need yours too.” You give him your name and he repeats it, just as you had done. He makes it sound beautiful in his warm timbre and you can't help the flutter in your stomach. “I'll text you as soon as I find out when we're coming here next.”

“Okay.” You lock eyes and don't look away, just enjoying the moment, until you see a car pass by and realize it's yours.

You think you could have stayed there in the cold talking to him all night. You're not sure why but talking to him is effortless, it's like you've been friends for years. It just feels right and you find yourself wishing that he texts you soon with the concert information and anything else he comes up with. You wouldn't need much of an excuse to talk to him.

“That's my ride,” You say as you hop down from the wall. He looks at the car and when his eyes meet yours again you think you can see a hint of disappointment, hopefully at having to cut the moment short. “Thank you for waiting with me,” you smile at him again, “You didn't have to do that.”

“No problem.” He gives you a smile too, the biggest one you've seen on him. “I'll see you next time.”

“Of course.” You'd be an idiot to not want to see him again. You linger for as long as you can, suddenly not feeling like going home at all.

You wave at him again before getting in the car and something beats faster in your chest when he waves back and watches the car speed off down the street, it's almost like your heart is telling you to stay with him. You're not exactly sure what just happened but you hope you don't regret not staying with him for the rest of the night.

You keep thinking about him during the whole car ride and he's the last thing on your mind when you're laying down to sleep. And when he texts you the next day you know you'll have many more opportunities to spend the night talking to him.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel fluff #azriel fic #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #divider by saradika #band au

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auteurdelabre · 4 months

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DARE TO SURRENDER (FINAL CHAPTER) JavierPenax f!Reader

Dare to Surrender Finale

DARE TO SURRENDER: Javier Pena x f!reader

Words: 9.8

summary: Things with Javier finally come to a head and the truth comes out at a dinner party thrown by the Murphy's.

warnings: (some tags not included to avoid plot spoiler) unprotected p in v, dirty talk, love, romantic, domestic, sex at work/public-ish sex.

A/N: Ya know I'm gonna miss these two. Didn't expect a silly little smutty story to turn romantic but I'm happy where we leave these two. Wanna know what y'all think about this story!

masterlist here

===================

DARE TO SURRENDER FINALE

Javier feels like shit when he strides into work on Monday. His head is pounding and his mouth tastes like an ashtray much stronger than usual.

He can't stop thinking about you. About your taste and the way you'd kissed him. You kissed him! You initiated it! And it felt so fucking good. Not just fucking you but your hand carding through his hair, your eyes so glazed as you whimpered against his mouth.

And then you'd mentioned Brad. Fucking Brad.

Javier feels his stomach churn at the memory. This jealousy gnawed at him the entire weekend and hasn't let up. What had he been expecting though? That you'd come home with him? No he hadn't been expecting it. He'd been desperately hoping for it. He'd wanted it so badly. Wanted you to tell him that these feelings aren't one sided.

But you didn't.

And why would you? He's been horrible. How could you ever guess the depths of his feelings when he's been blowing hot and cold? The thing is Javier has no idea what to do with these feelings for you. The last time he thought he cared about a woman he left her at the altar.

He doesn't trust his heart.

Javier comes to his office door, imagining you there on other side and he notices his hands are shaking. He chases drug cartels down and the thought of you has his fucking hands shaking. He swallows thickly before pushing the door open.

You're not there.

Murphy calls Javier over immediately, citing a lead they need to follow in town. Javier decides that he needs to throw himself into his work. That is better that his attention go somewhere else.

But it doesn't. All day all he can think of is you.

"You okay, man?" Murphy asks on the drive over. "You're acting off."

"Just hungover."

Javi can tell that Steve doesn't buy it, but it's thankful when he lets it go.

You're not there Tuesday either.

It makes the days drag by, not seeing your face across the room. He misses the way your tongue peeks out the corner of your mouth when you type. He misses bringing you coffee and feeling your gentle smile as you take it from him in grateful surprise. But most of all he just misses your presence.

Because he likes you. He more than likes you.

It's become pathetically apparent to Javier in a way he can't deny any more.

Waking up Saturday morning and knowing you were probably with Brad in bed had him reaching for the bottle before his eyes were even fully open. The weekend had gone by in a drunken blur.

He likes you a lot. More than he anticipated.. And he's realizing that he has for a long time. Even before the bet. Hell, the bet had just been a way to get closer to you, to spend more time with you. He’s terrified that he loves you

He wants you back in his apartment, back in his arms. Even if it's not to fuck, he wants you. He wants nights of snuggling under that crochet blanket, of taking you to dance in a dress you like wearing, at a bar outside of town where the music isn't too loud. He wants nights arguing about who has to cook dinner and whose place to spend the night. He wants more and he wants it with you.

But why would you want him? He's been horrible. How could you ever guess the depths of his feelings when he's been blowing hot and cold? The thing is Javier has no idea what to do with these feelings for you. The last time he thought he cared about a woman he left her at the altar.

He doesn't trust his heart.

When he arrives at the office on Wednesday morning Javier decides that he'll tell you everything. If nothing else perhaps it will explain to you why he's been such a fucking dick. He considers buying flowers but then realizes that might be an overstep. He doesn’t need the entire office knowing.

But then Brad arrives with you that morning, his large hand clutching yours. He kisses your cheek and says he'll pick you up after work as you smile up at him.

"Morning," Steve calls out and when Bradley leaves he adds: "Seems like a real nice guy."

"He is," you reply quickly.

"You guys serious?"

Javier holds his breath.

"Yeah," you say after a pause. "Yeah we are."

"You should definitely bring him to dinner this week then."

"Sure."

You're fast to start on work, not even offering Javier so much as a glance. Javier lights a cigarette, inhaling deeply as he realizes he's missed his chance.

It's too late.

///

Brad spent the night on Friday. Against all your better judgment you let him come into your apartment when he dropped you off.

You couldn't fuck him, not when Javier's saliva still clung to your inner thighs. Not when all you could do was picture his reflection in the mirror at the club.

So you gave Brad a hand job, hating yourself because instead of focusing on the man whose cock you stroked and mouth you kissed, all you could think of was Javier Peña. Javier Peña dancing. Javier Peña calling you pretty girl. Javier Peña's mouth on yours.

You like him.

You like the way he looks at you and not just during sex. The way his arms hold you. You like how he calls you baby in that gentle murmur that makes you feel cared for. You like how he makes you laugh. You like how his mind works during a case. You just like him.

When Brad left the next morning all you could do was mope around your apartment thinking about how you'd fallen for your coworker. Your coworker known for his bedroom prowess. The same co-worker who has slept with half the female embassy staff and shows no signs of slowing down. You've fallen for a playboy like an idiot.

And now you sit across from Javier at work trying everything in your power not to look at him because if you do you're terrified your eyes will give you away.

You're humiliated at how much you like playboy Peña. Even after you told yourself that you wouldn't fall for his charms. And now look at you- lovesick over a man who wants nothing from you but sex.

The moment in the club was so obviously a power trip for Javier. Proof that he could still seduce you if he wanted. And you'd gone right along with it. Your cheeks burn at the memory of how willing you were to have his mouth between your legs.

You think of Rosalia and the way her body had moved with his. You think of how she'd giggled about his bed. Your mouth twists into a scowl.

You'd passed her this morning as you entered the embassy hand-in-hand with Brad. You were confused at the look of open hostility she shot you. You wonder if Javier told her about the club. You wonder if after they fucked they laughed about how easily you succumbed to him.

You think of your own experience after the club. Giving Brad a hand job, kissing him before extricating yourself and setting him up with a pillow and blanket on your sofa.

Brad had urged you to fuck him Saturday morning before he left. His hand sliding over your clothed breasts as you stirred to wakefulness in your bed. He'd been hard, palming himself through his slacks.

When you'd declined he'd been huffy, almost resentful. But he'd kissed you and told you that he'd see you at work on Monday.

But you hadn't wanted to see Brad or Javier on Monday. Thoughts of Javier and Rosalia haunted you. Baby. Pretty girl. Thoughts of them in bed together. These painful ruminations wouldn't leave you until Tuesday night when Brad called to see how you were feeling and offered to drive you to work the next day.

And now you sit here, shoulders hunched as you focus on your paperwork half finished from last week.

///

Steve excuses himself during the mid-morning, citing that Connie has an appointment he needs to accompany her on. Javier is pretty sure that means Connie's in the family way, but he just nods when his partner announces his departure.

Then it's just you and Javier. You've taken a page from his book, tilting to use the opposite edge of your desk in order to face your back to Javier. You're typing hurriedly, your shoulders tense.

He longs to touch you. To massage those shoulders until you loosen up. To brush your hair from your shoulders. Wants your mouth on his.

But he can't. He knows this. Instead Javier prepares your coffee, carrying it to your desk with his heart pounding. He places it next to your hand on the desk.

"Hey," Javier says, his pulse skyrocketing when he inhales and can catch a trace of your perfume in the air. "You feeling better, osita?"

Your eyes slope up to his face, irritation clear. "You're not serious."

"What?"

"After everything you're just gonna stand there and act like you haven't treated me like absolute shit?"

Javier feels his eyes blow wide. "What?"

"I don't know what the fuck is going on with you Peña, but I can't handle all your mood swings," you tell him, eyes on his shoulder. "One minute you're following me to the club, next minute you're taking some girl home in front of me. And now you're bringing me coffee and acting like we're fine?"

You break off, swallowing.

"I don't deserve it," you tell him when you're voice returns. "And I think it's better if we just go back to how things used to be. Co-workers who bicker all the time."

Javier is uncharacteristically stoic, listening to you and his mouth thins as you speak before he clears his throat.

"Is that what you want?"

The air seems to have been sucked out of the room. You square your shoulders, taking a deep breath.

"Yes."

Javier's face is pained as he takes in what you've said. He taps the edge of your desk absently before nodding.

"Understood."

He moves from your desk quickly, face tilted from you. You watch him pull on his jacket, arms snapping before he leaves the office, door closing quietly behind him.

///

Before long it's Friday and Steve is excited to have everyone to his apartment. Apparently Connie has been working hard on food all day.

"Bring wine," Steve suggests when you ask what to bring you and Brad should bring to dinner that evening.

You know Javier will be invited as well and you hope that he turns down the invitation. You don't want more time with Javier outside of work. You’ve been lucky that he’s barely been in the office this week.

Steve glances at his watch, his light brows knitted. "Wonder where Jav--"

As if summoned, Javier saunters into the office and it's very reminiscent of his previous behavior. Arriving late, dropping by your desk to tease you.

But today a cigarette is hanging out of his mouth and he looks like he's barely been sleeping. He doesn't greet either of you.

"Hey Javi," Steve calls out, glancing over with a wry grin. "Rough night?"

"Fuck off."

Steve shoots you an amused look that you return weakly. But your gaze drifts over to Javier's brooding frame, watching as he drops into his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation.

You sigh gently, your eyes darting away when he glances in your direction. You can't look him in the face, can't be swayed by those beautiful eyes of his.

"I-I'm going to the evidence locker," you murmur to Steve. "Need to check something."

You stumble from your desk, heading down to the elevator. Your foot taps, waiting. You hear a sniff from behind you, glancing over your shoulder to see Rosalia with a handful of documents. When she sees it's you, she gives a dramatic sigh, turning on her heel and heading in the opposite direction.

What the fuck?

The elevator arrives and you load onto it, deep in thought about what just happened as the doors start to close. A broad hand slices between the closing doors at the last second and your head jerks up to see Javier sliding into the elevator next to you.

You bristle, wanting nothing more than to break down and tell him everything. How you can't stop thinking about him. How your desire for him goes beyond the bedroom.

But instead you fold your hands in front of you, trying to hide their trembling. Javier's shoulder brushes yours, and you can feel his eyes on you.

"Can we talk?"

"There's nothing to say, Peña."

The elevator door opens and several men from the department load on, causing Javier to squeeze closer to you. They press the button for the lower floors and you hold your breath as Javier tilts towards you.

"Please," he murmurs, the warm air from his breath huffing against your ear.

"Not here," you whisper, eyes steely.

You arrive at the basement level, stepping out with Javier quick on your heels. The guard out front gives you a nod as you and Peña flash your badges. He unlocks the room and you and Javier walk in, the door shutting behind you.

The room is dark and almost immediately you feel your pulse begin to pound. You can feel Javier behind you, his body warm and the scent of leather and his cologne washes over you. Fuck. He smells so good. It transports you back to his apartment. To riding him, his eyes and hands on your body.

You force yourself to move to the far side of the room with large tiered shelves filled with bins. Beside it are units filled with contraband locked behind chain link.

You pretend to look through the nearest bin, your eyes scanning the paperwork inside. You hear Javier clear his throat but you don't turn to face him.

"I'm sorry for treating you so... I'm sorry for being such an asshole," he tells you, eyes fixed on the back of your head. You turn your head to the side and he can just see your profile when you reply.

"You've been really horrible."

"I know. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Javier feels his heart thudding in his chest. "I-I don't. . . It was shitty."

"Thanks," you murmur your eyes on the paper in your hand. You can't turn around and look at him. You know that if you do its game over.

"I never meant to hurt you." Javier runs a hand through his hair. "I... I think I got, uh... I'm not used to..."

He sees your head tilt to the left indicating that you're listening to him at least. That's something. But he needs your eyes; they tell him everything you're feeling.

"Would you look at me? Please, osita?"

You sigh, turning after a beat. Your eyes won't go to his, but they land somewhere around his collar. He immediately feels the words he rehearsed leaving him. All he can do is step towards you, desperately.

"I don't want things to go back to the way they were before," Javier murmurs, his hand going to your jaw.

Another game. Another tease.

"Stop Javier," you insist, your voice scraping the bottom of your shoes. "I can't take it-"

Of course he doesn't want things to go back to how they were before, you muse. Before you didn't fuck him. He likes having your pussy on speed dial. He likes having an easy fuck around the office, why wouldn’t he?

You try to turn away from him but his wide palm is at the back of your neck, stopping you.

"Wait," Peña insists, his hand on the back of your neck squeezing softly. "Look at me."

You turn your eyes on him and there's so much in your gaze that it takes Javier's breath from him. Your eyes, normally so guarded are so open right now, so needy, so heated.

"Please," you say and Javier has no idea what you're asking for. For him to touch you? For him to leave?

"Please what? What do you need?"

You can't find the words. Can't explain this fucking need that won't leave you when he's around. Can't express that you miss him. Can't say that you want him. Can't say that you really like him.

But Javier has never needed words, not when he can read everything in your eyes.

And when your arms wrap around his neck and your mouth goes to his it's all but confirmed. Your mouth is warm and pliant and he feels himself surrendering to you immediately.

Javier begins to unbuckle his jeans, the belt clinking against the zipper as you step out of your heels and then your panties and pantyhose are drawn down, discarded without thought as you both continue kissing.

He backs you against the chain link wall of the evidence locker, pulling back to see your face. Behind you is contraband and weaponry. In front of you is Javier taking his cock from his jeans, never looking away from you.

There's no teasing, no build up. It's just Javier bringing his fingers to his mouth swirling his tongue around them and then slipping them into your waiting cunt.

He didn't need to bother with his saliva, you're already soaked. You cry out as his thumb finds your clit, curving as his mouth descends to your neck, grazing his lips over your pulse point.

You know he's trying to build you up but you don't need it, you need him inside you. Now. Your hand reaches between you going to gently grip his cock, coaxing him between your legs under your skirt.

He removes his fingers quickly, not arguing with your silent request. One of his hands skates down to your thigh, urging it around his hip. He leans his torso into yours heavily, pushing your back against the chain link. Your fingers wrap around the metal, curling instinctively and holding you there.

His mouth meets yours, urgent and desperate before he's moving between your thighs and in one motion slides into you. You tilt back to let out a cry that's immediately muffled by one of his broad hands.

"Shhh," he commands softly against your temple. "Gotta be quiet, baby."

He starts a brutal pace, his hips snapping against yours as you hold firm to the chain link.

"You needed this," Peña rasps, "Needed me. Didn't you?"

You let out a loud whine, muffled by his hand so you nod. Javier is grunting, his voice husky and dark from beside your ear.

"Fuck, I needed this too. Needed you."

You're ashamed at how much you need Javier, so full of this seemingly insatiable need that you don't reply. You only grit your teeth and thrust against him, fucking yourself on his length.

Javier grunts in approval, eyes on yours. He pushes the hair from your brow so he can see every inch of your face. "You take what you need, pretty girl. Wanna see you feel good."

There is something about Javier's body that speaks to yours. No matter how much he drives you insane, there is a biological pull that makes you want his body against yours. That needs to feel his hands on your body. Both of your legs go around his waist, hooking at the ankles.

"Deeper," you whisper. "Deeper, please."

Javier lets out a soft sigh as your head tilts back, your chest bouncing under your blouse as he drives into you. You’re so fucking sexy he can't handle it. He lets out little rasping whimpers.

He's tugging one of your hands from the chain, urging it to hold the back of his neck. He needs your grip to keep him grounded so he can look into your face and you into his as he fucks you.

He needs you to want him the way he wants you. He's desperate for you. You grip him around the neck, your pupils blown out.

"You want me," he says, twisting his hips to drive into an angle that has you groaning. "Stop pretending you don't."

"Haven't you got enough?" you bite back. "The brothel girls? Rosalia?"

His forehead presses against yours, both damp from the suffocating heat of the evidence locker.

"Don't want them," Peña grunts. "Want you."

You want to argue, you want to push him from you but that delicious pleasure is building within you. The sound of your flesh smacking together in the locker is obscene, but it turns you on in a way you can’t explain.

"You feel so..." you whimper, trying to focus on what to say while your body keeps cresting. "I'm gonna-"

Before you can say more your orgasm overtakes you, ripping through you like a stripe of white hot heat. Javier watches as your body arches against his, covering your mouth with his hand once more as you rut against him. You cry out against his palm, hot and urgent.

Don't want them. Want you.

Javier watches you climax, his brows saddling as he groans. To him there is nothing sexier than you coming because of him. You give little whimpers, little jolts as you come down, your eyes heavy as you look at him.

He removes his hand slowly from your mouth, lowering it to his side. You're chest heaves as you pant heavily, your body loose.

Javier pulls himself from you, tucking his still hard cock into his jeans. You continue standing there against the fence, eyes blinking in a daze.

His hand goes back to your face, trailing his fingers along the curve of your soft cheek before tilting his mouth towards yours.

"Osita, I-"

You swerve from him, bending down to retrieve your panties and hosiery. You pull them both on before slipping into your heels. Javier watches this all quietly, the fingers of his left hand laced in the chain link.

"I'll see you at dinner tonight," you offer, your legs shaky.

Javier says nothing as you leave him.

///

You decide on deviled eggs as something to bring this evening. Something simple that you think the Murphy's will like.

Despite your parting words in the evidence locker today, you think there's no way Javier will actually come to dinner tonight. He knows you're coming with Brad. The frustrating thing is that Javier and Steve live in the same building.

You remember Javier’s unit. You hold your breath as you pass his door, heading up the stairs to the Murphy’s.

"You made it," Connie says brightly opening the door. Brad holds the deviled eggs as she pulls you into a tight hug.

"Wouldn't miss it," you enthuse with a smile.

"C'mon in, you wanna glass of wine?"

"Sure."

You enter into the apartment, taking in the tasteful decorations, the warm colored paint on the walls.

It strikes you that despite Javier and Steve having the same apartment layout in the same building, this one is so warm and homey. Javier's looks so sterile, aside from that colorful crochet blanket over his sofa.

Stop thinking about him.

You take the wine glass from Connie, greeting Steve as he comes from the kitchen to say hello.

"Glad you could make it Brad," Steve says shaking his hand.

"Same here."

You watch the two of them and smile. Brad is so handsome, so confident. You like being on his arm. They chat casually, the two of them so similar in their looks and upbringing. You realize that Brad however seems to feel the need to dominate the conversation, laughing a little too loud, speaking a little too much.

But then again you might just be comparing him to someone else. Someone more laid back, someone who has an inner confidence that oozes from every pore.

Stop it.

There's a knock at the door and Connie rushes over to it. You stomach drops as you hear the door swing open.

"Sorry I'm late."

At the sound of his familiar rasp your stomach tightens. You don't even turn to see him enter, you just bristle. Brad has put the eggs in the kitchen and walks out to see Javier enter.

"Hey Javier," Brad says with a grin. "Nice to see you. No Rosalia tonight?"

"Uh no," Javier sounds uneasy. "No Rosalia."

Immediately you feel your chest begin to tighten. Just hearing her name takes you back to the club and Javier's hand around her waist. Connie takes Javier's the wine bottle he's brought smiling at him and giving him a thank you.

"Beer Javier?"

"Sounds great, Con, thanks."

You follow Brad to the sofa, sure not to look over at Javier as he chats with Steve and Connie. If Brad or the Murphy's think it's odd that you two don't interact, none say anything.

You feel your cheeks burning as you think of only hours ago with Javier between your legs.

Brad puts his hand on your crossed knee, leaning comfortably against the sofa. You startle before giving a ghost of a smile.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," you insist. "Just a little tired."

Steve hands Brad a beer before he drops into the sofa opposite you Brad. Javier joins him seconds later, his eye stuck on Brad’s hand on your knee. How could you fuck him hours ago and then sit there snuggled up to Brad? Why fuck Javier if you don’t want him how he wants you?

"So how's the case going?" Brad asks with his eyes bright. "I know you can't give too many details."

"Things are progressing," Javier offers huskily. "Not as quickly as we'd like but..."

He trails off before taking a swig from his beer bottle.

"Can't say much more than that I'm afraid," Steve says with wink in your direction. You grin as Brad gives you a friendly nudge with his elbow.

"I'll see if I can get something outta this one," Brad teases you.

"Good luck," Javier scoffs. "She's a vault."

Somehow you sense that Javier isn't talking about the case.

"Well I have ways of making her talk," Brad says with a suggestive wink in your direction. You flush immediately feeling Javier's eyes on you.

And that's where you make your mistake.

Because now for the first time since he came into the apartment do you chance a look at Javier. He's staring directly at you, one hand curled over the arm of the sofa, his other hand holding his beer bottle loosely between his legs.

He holds your gaze in his own, dark and beckoning.

And this is when Steve senses something amiss. There's no teasing, no baiting each other. And when he thinks back to this week he realizes there's been a strange harmony at work.

No, not a harmony. A quiet.

Steve looks between you and Javier, seeing as you two stare at one another before you're dragging your attention to your wine glass. Steve glances over to see Javier gazing at you a beat longer before his attention is on his beer bottle.

You glance over to Murphy just in time to see as everything clicks for him. He knows something has gone on between the two of you. You see it flicker in his light eyes before his attention is back on Brad as your date launches into something about work and one of the local busts.

The three of you listen to him as Connie darts around the kitchen. It's not long before she's summoning you all to the table she's laid out beautifully, even going so far as to fold the fabric napkins into flower shapes.

The five of you sit at the table, giving murmurs of delight at her staging and of course Javier is seated across from you. You can feel his gaze sweeping over you every so often as you try to ignore him.

Don't look at him.

The meal is pleasant. Connie is a marvelous cook and you enjoy every bite. But your mind is everywhere but the conversation. It's over the table in Javier's arms. It's focusing on his wide hands as he lifts the fork to his full mouth. It's stuck on his dark eyes that sail to yours just as you tear them away.

Brad is charming as he always is. Connie and Steve seem to really enjoy his company. You wish you could enjoy it this evening as well but it seems impossible. You consider faking a headache just so you can leave early.

But you see how much effort Connie is put into this dinner. You know that you can't just take off. And when they tell you that they brought you over to share some exciting news, you know you have to stay.

"We wanted you to be the first here in Bogotá to know that we're expecting," Connie says with a wide grin. Steve is near tears, looking so in love with his wife that it makes your heart ache.

"That's amazing!" You burst out, eyes bright. Javier quickly gives his genuine well wishes, his smile warm.

Connie and Steve accept the well wishes from everyone at the table looking delighted.

"You want kids one day, Osita?" Brad asks you quietly.

You glance to him, eyes widening. It's a totally fair question to ask someone you're dating, you suppose. But to you it feels like too much too fast.

Before you can reply though you both turn when Javier slaps his beer bottle onto the table.

Javier can't take it. He can't take another moment of you ignoring him. He can't take another second of another man calling you a nickname he gave you as an inside joke.

She's not your osita," Javier snaps out loud before remembering himself.

He sees the widening of your eyes, the narrowing of Brad's. He misses when Steve and Connie exchange looks of embarrassed surprise behind their drinking glasses.

"Well she isn't yours," Brad laughs back, nudging you with his shoulder. "Unless I'm missing something?"

All eyes at the table are now on you. Your cheeks are flushed and your eyes have dropped to the table. You twist your fingers on your lap anxiously, willing the heat in your face to lessen.

You can't form the words and you can't look at either of them. To look at them would reveal everything.

Javier feels his heart picking up speed with every silent second that ticks by. You're not saying no to Brad. You're not saying no to Javier.

Brad says your name, prompting you for an answer with a pained smile. But you can't look at him. You feel so terrible because you know there's no way he'll forgive you. No way Brad will understand that you were Javier's long before you were his, even if the agent across from you doesn't want you like you want him.

But you can't say it. Can't put those words into the world where they'll be crushed like the wings of a butterfly. They're so too delicate, they'd never survive it.

But your silence is its own kind of answer and when Javier softly says your name and your eyes instinctively rise to meet his, Brad sees it all.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

Your eyes shoot back to the table, guilt clear from your slumped shoulders and red face.

Brad is thunderous, looking over at Javier in shock. And Javier who never misses the chance to gloat or to mock has gone uncharacteristically quiet, his large brown eyes only fixed on your downturned face.

"Fucking made for each other," Brad scoffs waving a loose hand between you and Javier. "The tease and the whore."

"Whoa," Connie snaps.

"Hey," Steve says raising a hand in Brad's direction. "That's enough, man."

"You won't fuck me but you'll fuck this walking STD?" Brad continues, ignoring Steve. He looks shocked, as if he's never been rejected before.

Javier feels his chest tighten. You still didn't fuck Brad. There's gotta be a reason. There has to be. He wants to leap across the table and pull you into his arms.

"You need to leave," Steve says, rising from his chair, shielding Connie. "Now."

Brad seems to remember himself, and he gives a scoff.

"Fuck it. You're welcome to her," Brad sneers at Javier. Then he moves his cold gaze to you in the chair. "And you just wait until I tell everyone about you and your fucking head games."

Brad's glaring down at you but your eyes are on the table, your body curling into itself. It breaks Javier's heart to see it.

"Get the fuck away from her," Javier says in a dark voice of warning, jerking to a stand. "Now."

Your eyes fly to him, feeling breathless. And there in his dark eyes is the fighter you know, the man that risks everything for intel, the man that doesn't take shit even from drug lords.

Javier knows that your reputation is everything to you. He knows you want the respect of the people you work with, especially the men who pass judgment so easily on their female co-workers. And he knows something like Brad mouthing off will destroy your credibility you've spent so long accruing.

"And if you say anything about her, if I hear one goddam thing in that office I'll make sure you're transferred to the middle of nowhere giving out parking tickets for the rest of your pathetic fucking career."

Brad knows Javier has friends in high places. He knows that the threat isn't empty and Brad for all his posturing just gives a sound of disgust before striding off, slamming the door to Steve's apartment after him.

A long stretch of silence falls over the remaining guests. Javier, who hasn't taken his eyes off of you takes his seat again before he reaches across the table to take your hand in his.

"Are you okay?"

At the sensation of his warm hand covering yours, your jerk back as if coming out of a trance.

"I'm sorry everyone," you say in a voice that sounds detached from you. You start to gather your purse onto your shoulder. "He shouldn't have brought you into the middle of all that. That was so... I'm so sorry."

"Don't go," Connie insists. "We were just gonna have dessert."

"Maybe next time," you say weakly smiling. “Congrats again you too. I’m so happy for you.”

You feel your eyes getting wet and you refuse for your colleagues to see you cry. You murmur a quick thank you for dinner and move from the table.

Javier watches this with indecision plaguing him. Despite wanting to gather you into his arms you seem to need space. He doesn't want to crowd you with his body, he's done that in the past and he's worried you'd only see it as sexual.

Steve is staring at Javier, his brows furrowed. Connie has lowered her wine glass to fix Javier with a matching look of confusion.

"What the fuck are you still doing sitting there?" Steve challenges. "Go after her!"

///

You're halfway down the steps when you hear your name being called. Javier jogs down the steps, his boots scraping the cement as he does and you meet him at the bottom, ironically just outside his apartment door.

"Are you okay? Really?"

"Why are you pretending like you care?" you say with a sardonic twist of your lips. You go to shoulder past him but his hand reaches out, gently holding you in place by the upper arm.

"I do care," Javier promises and you almost think you can see sincerity there in the depths of his gaze. But you know better, Javier doesn't do sincerity.

"Javier, we all know what this is to you. A game. A tease. Well congrats, you won the bet. And now you've won whatever game you were playing with me and Brad."

You go to leave him again, desperate to not to cry in front of him. Javier's brows saddle as you try to pull from him and he feels himself desperate to keep you close.

"Wait, baby don't-"

Baby.

You jerk back from his touch as soon as the pet name accidentally leaves his mouth. Those eyes, so limpid and open are now shuttered closed, icing Javier out.

His hand drops as you step back. He wants to say something, anything to get that look back in your eyes. But you're already turning, walking away from him. The conversation is closed and Javier feels that wall being thrust between you two again.

"Go back to Rosalia, Peña," you throw over your shoulder as you turn the corner. "Just don't call me when you fuck this one."

"Stop."

He says your name. Your real first name. No nicknames, no childish pronunciation. Just your first name. And for some reason the sound of it on his tongue makes you turn to see what he has to say.

"There is no me and Rosalia," Javier tells you, his voice thick with emotion. "I haven't taken anyone to bed since Sofia."

Besides you.

"Bullshit," you scoff. "I saw you and Rosalia leave the club together. I heard what you said."

The high of Javier’s cheeks go red. He holds his mouth to the side in embarrassment before clearing his throat.

"I invited her back to my place after the club to make you jealous. She wanted a drink, and so I poured us some whisky except I got wasted." Javier looks humiliated. "Apparently the more I drank the more I wouldn't stop talking about you. She got pissed off. Left."

You think back to Rosalia's cold attitude to you at work. You think of her almost angrily stalking away from you at the elevator. It makes sense now.

"What were you saying about me?"

Javier goes pink around his neck. "Don't remember."

But he does. You vow to get it out of him someday. "Why were you talking about me with her?"

"Because I like you," Javier confesses. He doesn’t even try to gently approach the subject. He just lays his cards out there for you to see. He knows that this isn’t one sided. He saw it in your eyes over the dinner table.

"You like me?"

"Yeah." He nods, closing the distance between you. “A lot.”

“You like fucking me,” you correct him.

“That too,” he admits with a soft chuckle. “But not just that. I want you in my bed, in my arms, next to me at the office, laying with me on the sofa. Don't really care where I just wanna be with you."

"But... The bet?"

"It was never about the bet," Javier tells you. "I think I just used it because I knew you didn't like me but I wanted to get closer to you. I've been crazy about you since you started here, osita."

Yes! He likes you!

No. He can't.

This is Javier Peña we’re talking about. Javier Peña doesn't do relationships. He does one night stands. He does cat houses. He does secretaries in tight sweaters.

"Javier I think you're just confused," you say, trying to hide your disappointment. "We just have really great sex. That doesn't mean more than that."

Javier looks wounded before his eyes blaze. "If it was just sex for you why did you kiss me that morning in my apartment?"

"I-I thought you were asleep," you stutter embarrassed.

"Yeah and you kissed me anyway," Javier says softly challenging you. "Because you like me too."

You're silent.

"If it was just sex why would I know how you take your coffee? Or memorize what your face looks like when you're falling asleep?"Javier insists. "If it was just sex, why do I imagine where I'd take you on a date or what we'd cook for dinner?"

"Where would you take me on a date?" You ask quietly. Javier doesn't miss the small curl to the corners of your mouth. He feels his own mouth doing the same.

"Dinner at this place in Teusaquillo. Great food and wine. Then this salsa club with good music."

"I don't know how to salsa."

"I'd teach you," Javier smiles.

You swallow at the memory of what Javier looks like dancing. You long to feel his body move against yours like that. To be out in public with him holding you to him, grinding against you.

"Then what?"

"I'd take you to the beach after sunset and we'd go skinny dipping."

"Brrrr."

"I'd keep you warm."

He can see the tension being released from your shoulders as you continue listening. You take a step towards him, closing the gap. He does the same until your bodies are inches from one another.

"What next?"

"I'd bring you here to my place," Javier says motioning to the door behind you. "We'd shower off the sand. I'd fuck you against the tile of the shower wall. Make you feel so good you'd call me papi."

Javier doesn't miss how your cheeks flame red and your eyes glaze at this point. You let out a small giggle that warms him from the inside.

"And then I'd take you to bed and make you come as many times as possible before falling asleep with you in my arms." Javier murmurs, his hand sliding to your neck, his thumb on your jaw. "Then the next morning I'd kiss you awake and make you breakfast. Then I'd take you back to bed so I could fuck you all morning."

Your eyes are glazed and he can tell you’re imagining it all. So is he.

"But only if you say you want it, osita," Javier murmurs. "And if you don't I'll stay away and I'll never bring it up again."

All your breath leaves you because Javier is looking at you with those big, luminous eyes in the kind of way that promises more than sex. It promises a relationship. It promises nights curled against one another and mornings making coffee side by side. It promises whispered desire just as quickly as it promises gentle kisses awake.

And you want it all.

"Well we've already had dinner and I don't feel much like dancing," you say, your fingers absently playing with the buttons on his shirt. "And since we didn't go swimming there's no sand to wash off so... Do you think we could just do the other stuff now?"

"You sure? I don't wanna rush you," Javier's hands slide through your hair, over your shoulder. Now that you’re leaning into his hands he can't stop touching you.

"I'm sure,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his mouth. "Take me to bed, Javi."

Javier fumbles for his keys, pushing the door open and allowing you to enter first. The door isn’t even closed behind him before his hands are around your waist, pulling you against him and kissing you with intensity.

"Want you in my bed," Javier says between kisses. "Please?"

"We've done it everywhere else," you tease, allowing him to drag you after him. "A bed might be a nice change of pace."

Within seconds you’re both undressed and he's seated in his bed. He’s positioned you atop his hips, cupping your face in his hands as you adjust to him, your arms coming to rest loosely on his shoulders.

He slides into your wet and welcoming cunt, eyes half opened and mouth slack. You love how he looks when he’s unguarded. And you love how he feels. Nothing in his world feels as good as Javier Peña entering you. From the sweet clench of your pussy to the little whines that escape you when he does.

"So fucking good," he groans against your mouth. You lick into his mouth; a small part of your subconscious remembering when you’d told him kissing was off the table. What a fucking idiot you’d been.

He rocks into you slowly, not wanting to rush this. To Javier there is nothing better than you naked in his lap, mewling and arching for him. He cups your breasts, mouth going to nibble at each nipple. You give a strangled moan at the sensation, gripping him tightly.

“Oh!”

He grins as you begin to thrust more ardently against him. His hands are spreading your thighs wide on his abdomen so he can watch your cunt sliding along his slick cock. The sight of your pussy stretched around him, dripping makes his pupils blow wide.

"That's my fucking girl," Javier groans. "So wet for papi."

Your eyes are heavy lidded and you gasp gently when his thumb comes to circle your clit as you ride him. He feels you tighten around his cock and he grins, relishing in the desire overtaking you. You’re already so close.

You give a whimper, eyes slammed shut. He watches your face morph into pleasure, head tilted as you rock against him.

"Eyes open, baby."

Your eyes ease open to see Javier smiling softly, his dark hair falling over his forehead as he moves within you.

"Feel good?"

"Mhmm."

You give a drunken nod that has Javier unable to hold back his smile. When you're unguarded and aroused like this he finds you completely endearing.

"Love it when my girl feels good."

"Your girl," you murmur smiling softly. The sight and sound of it makes his heart seize. You like being his.

"My girl," he whispers back. "You like being my girl?"

"Wanted to be your girl for a while," you confess, feeling vulnerable the second it leaves your lips.

Javier response takes you by surprise. He grips you to him, rolling until your body is under his.

He kisses your mouth gently as his hips move lazily against yours. He moves his face back, bracing himself on his forearms and holding your face so he can gaze at you as he slides into your cunt. Your eyes are on his and it makes the experience feel more potent with every thrust. This isn’t fucking. This is making love.

"Fuck you're beautiful," Javier breathes as he watches you arch against him, brows saddling as you keen. You stretch your arms above your head, feeling strangely boneless. Javier sighs, pressing sweet kisses to your breasts, then your throat as he gently drives himself deeper.

"You feel so good," you tell him, eyes glazed as your thighs cradle his hips. "You always feel so fucking good Javi."

Javi.

"I love when you say my name," Javier confesses, pressing a kiss to your mouth before sliding his hips further against yours.

"Thought you liked it when I called you baby?" You smile. "Or papi?"

"I like whatever you call me when you're happy with me."

"I like when you call me pretty girl," you confess, cheeks flushed. You tilt your head to the side shyly and Javier's mouth is on your ear instantly.

"Oh I know that, pretty girl," Javier teases, pressing a wet kiss to your jaw. "And it's true because you are such a pretty girl. So pretty when you come for me."

He grins when he sees you preening under the praise. Now that he knows how you feel he's completely besotted. He rocks into you, mouth on yours as you groan under him, trying not to be too loud. But he can see the flutter of your eyelids and he knows that you’re cresting.

"Don't have to be quiet here," he promises you, mouth grazing along your earlobe. "Wanna hear how good I make you feel. Wanna hear how hard you come for me."

And you do. You come spectacularly for him. Beautiful and raw and completely undone by him, chasing your high and capturing it in a shuddering cry. Javier is overcome by the sight, his entire body breaking out into goosebumps. You’re all his. He gets to make you feel like this.

And when you go to catch your breath and you wait for him to release himself within you, you’re confused when he slides out of you, still hard.

“Javi-“

His mouth is on your cunt within seconds, spreading your thighs luridly for him under the sheets. You pull them back, needing to watch. His dark eyes are like beckoning tunnels as he sucks at your clit.

“You’re gonna come on my tongue this time pretty girl,” he says huskily before his mouth descends between your legs again. You realize why – he never got what he wanted in the club. And you want to insist that he finish, but then his tongue swirls in a very specific spot and your hips nearly jump off the bed.

He grips your ass in his hands, burying his face further into your cunt. You feel his mouth on your clit, his nose dragging against your mound and you buck into it. Already you can feel yourself on the cusp of another orgasm.

“Feels so good baby,” you moan, hands carding through his hair. He hums his approval, his eyes rolling back in pleasure at both the use of baby and as your nails scrape along his scalp. When he lets out a small groan at your whines you feel yourself release again, whimpering when you feel him lapping at your essence.

When he’s had his fill he returns to kiss you. You taste yourself on his lips and you feel your pulse spike. You urge him onto his back, sliding down his length and taking a moment to look at him. He’s so fucking sexy laying back against the pillow. His mouth all swollen from kissing and his hair mussed.

He grins as you begin bouncing on his cock. His hands fly to your hips, guiding you along. He makes you feel fucking amazing and you need him to feel as good as you do. Your hands splay on his chest and your eyes meet his.

“Please,” you whimper. “Fill me up baby, I need it.”

Javier growls, something animalistic at hearing those words. Echoes of the first time you slept together when you twisted your eyes to gaze over your shoulder at him and begged him to come deep.

You rock against him, breasts heaving. Your eyes never leave one anothers, not even when you see his lids growing heavy and his hips begin to stutter. You urge him to fuck you deeper, to take and take and take.

“Come for me, Javi,” you beg, your body jolting against his upward thrusts. “Please, baby.”

And he does. He comes hard, chanting your name over and over as he empties himself into you. His body releasing everything, the tension of what he thought was unrequited affection, the fury of seeing you with Brad, the deep desire he’s held for you. He releases it all.

And you take it eagerly. You rock against him until he sighs and goes boneless. Only then do you gently climb off of him, sliding into his waiting arms as he curls around you. He holds you to him, his mouth searching for yours.

“My pretty girl,” he rasps, moving his hand along the side of your face.

“All yours,” you promise him before pressing a kiss to his smiling mouth.

You both fall into a light doze, waking some hours later to the sound of someone pulling their car into the parking lot. You stretch like a lazy cat against him and Javier holds back a sigh of contentment at waking up with you still in his arms.

“I need a drink,” you say. “I’m parched.”

Javier grins at you, smiling widely before kissing your mouth. “One second.”

He slips on his jeans and ducks out of the bedroom. He comes back with a warm towel and his crochet blanket. He cleans you gently, lovingly. Then he wraps you in the blanket, until just your face is peeking out at him. It reminds him of the first night you spent here. He kisses your nose and you blush.

"Hey, so what did you tell Rosalia?"

"Fuck, not now," Javier says with an embarrassed smile. "Don't make me say it."

Javier's cheeks are flaming red and you can't help but find him completely adorable. You laugh.

"I'll let you off the hook tonight. But only because you made me feel so good."

You walk into his kitchen, taking a seat at his table and looking over at him as he makes you a coffee. He knows how you take it. You go to tell him that you always stop drinking caffeine after two pm but he just places the mug in front of you.

“Decaf,” he explains and it’s not the drink that warms you.

He sits across from you, his eyes so soft as he gazes at you drinking from his mug. There’s something so possessive in him that relishes you wearing his blanket drinking from his mug because you’re his girl.

"I want this to be something," Javier tells you after a few minutes of silence. "Something real. Not a bet. Not a game."

"I don't think it's been a bet for a while Javier," you admit shyly. "At least not for me."

“Me neither.”

You nod, drinking happily as your eyes go unfocussed. He knows that this happens when you’re aroused or you’re deep in thought. He hopes for the former because he intends to keep his promise.

Javier smiles as he watches you go thoughtful, acute fondness for you running through him as you glance around his home. He really likes you. You snap your fingers as if something has just occurred to you.

"Do you have a hammer and nails?"

Javier gives you a strange look before retrieving the items you requested from the hallway closet. He places them into your outstretched hand, watching as you turn and world towards the far wall by the kitchen. The blanket drags behind you as you stop by the wall where one of his framed posters leans against. He’s had it sitting against the wall for months, never knowing where to put it.

"If I'm gonna be staying over your place needs to look less like a prison cell," you tell him.

Javier tries to hold back the grin that threatens to take him over completely. You’re telling him you’re serious about him. You’re telling him you plan on staying over at his place.

He watches bemused as you drive the nail into the wall. You hang the picture up, standing back and admiring your handiwork. Javier walks over to you, eyes full of affection.

He slides his arms around you from behind, gazing at the hung picture. You walked in and you knew exactly where it should go. You lean back against his chest, warmed both inside and out by his presence.

"What do you think?"

Javier’s nose nuzzles your neck. "Beautiful. Your remarkably talented at home design."

"More talented in other things," you murmur against his cheek. You feel his lips curve into a smile, his hands coming to tug the blanket away from your body.

"Show me?"

///

Its hours later and you’re asleep in his bed, in his arms. Your mouth is inches from his and he kisses it softly, as you did to him not so long ago when you thought he was sleeping. He watches the rise and fall of your chest, calmed by the sight.

He loves you, of that he's certain.

But he won't tell you that until months later during a movie you both hate, the two of you snuggled under that same crochet blanket on his sofa as you eat reheated Arepas.

Years later when your belly swells with his first child he'll confess to you what he told Rosalia that drunken night. That he was so in love with you he couldn't stand it. That just being near you made him feel safe and right. That no one made him feel like you do.

"I bet I loved you first," you'll offer with a cheeky grin, but your eyes will be glazed with emotion.

"No more bets," Javier will reply grinning before kissing you.

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pascalsbby · 7 months

Text

The Devil & His Brother / II

Joel x Tommy x You

Prologue / Part I / Masterlist

Summary: “Good, been staring out the window for far too long,” he said. “You can look at something prettier now. Close your eyes, bunny.”

He slipped around on the wetness of your lips before he parted them with one, thick finger.

“Stick out your tongue for me.”

AKA: Bath time with the Millers 😈

Word Count: 7K

Warnings: 18 + mndi, DUBCON DRUG USE: enemies to lovers, heavy talk & use of drugs/pills, morally grey Millers, slow-burn, angst/comfort/sex, age gap, power imbalance, possessive tendencies, major daddy issues (that’s why you need BOTH Miller brothers instead of 1). talk of death, shit-talking god & praying for the devil himself.

I feel like I'm sending out something so personal... and familiar in ways that I know aren't. Maybe that's how memories feel after a while.

God is fucking with my oblivion. If he wants forgiveness, he shouldn't have given us memory.

- Vi Khi Nao

“Can’t do it, Joel.”

“Goddamnit.” His huff was deep and bothered by your apparent inability to do anything he asked of you.

His anger didn't sit with you, but himself. He didn't really know that, though. Doesn't feel too much beneath the thickness of his skull. Hard-headed fucker.

The scent of you hung leaden in the steam-filled bathroom. Iron. Blood. Something saccharine that made him ache as he peeled your clothes from your weak skin. Lately, his temper has been short, and unbeknownst to you he hasn’t always been this way. Even in recent years. You assumed he was always like this, further etching the lines that softened on his face (only after yelling at you), but he would argue that you were acting like a little fuckin’ brat… so his snippy remarks were justified.

"Did all the work of carryin' you here and now you're gonna off yourself? Cause you won't let me help you bathe in the only hot bath water you've seen since you were what.... sixteen? M' not that big and scary, Bunny."

You both had your own ways of dealing with things, you guessed. Verbal expression of any kind besides small, whispered sentences had been scarce. Except for when he was angry. Except for right now.

You stopped listening because suddenly nothing seemed to matter too much. It didn’t all feel so black and white; life-ending like he was making it seem, being a real grump.

“Are you listenin’ to m–?”

His tuneful voice now sounded hollow as it bounced off of your blurring peripheral vision.

You didn’t answer Joel, instead, you listened to the music in your head and wondered how it got there. How you got into his arms.

Joel called Tommy’s name after you stumbled into his warmth. You winced at his raised voice, almost breaking you from a blissful trance. “God damnit Tommy, get in here. I can’t hold her up and wash her at the same time.” Ten minutes of Joel trying to get you in the bath like you were a fucking toddler was enough. He wouldn’t be able to hold your body up and wash you simultaneously, either. It was a two-person job to do it correctly, and gently.

Tommy returned an hour or so earlier, saying whoever had followed them had taken another way around, but they’d seen fresh hoof marks. “It’s weird Joel,” he said.

“Fuck, I just washed these jea-“ his voice coming from down the hallway. He turned the corner, changed into clean clothes, and was taken aback by your bare chest staring back at him from underneath Joel’s veined arm. His skin burns into yours.

“What the fuck did you give her?” He was immediately angry.

Give me? Peace. Radiating warmth, you thought. He didn’t know that you didn’t feel a lot anymore, but you knew deep down that you felt something more for Joel.

“She’s in pain, Tommy. Only thing she’s felt in the past nine years is pain. Help me get her in here and then take off the fucking jeans then, I don’t care. Get some towels and then get in here. Don’t know how much time we have ‘fore it wears off.” Joel growled. Then you close your eyes and let go, swimming through the low buzz in between their thrown bickers.

He’d talked real sweet to you, in hopes of getting you to take a bath. Mostly because being 'somewhere else' would be best when washing your wound, away from the water gripping at your side. Another small reason was that he didn’t want to hear you mumble, “no,” again. You needed a proper bath if you were ever going to get better. Although you didn’t seem too interested in such

That must have been the extent of Tommy’s anger, because he listens exactly to what Joel says. He unlocks his leather-backed metal belt and it hits the floor in the same instance, cling. He doesn’t mention the pills again, just takes his jeans off before he turns the handles of the running bath off and assumes his position outside of it. Joel takes his own shirt off, skin soft-looking and warm. He was sweating, skin slightly glowing from the sweat reflecting the bathroom lights. You could smell him. He kept his boxers on, still maintaining a sliver of his respect. He was willing his cock to follow the same.

He sunk himself into the bathwater with a deep groan, one of relief. Tommy walked you closer and helped you climb into the bath. It burned, felt like it was boiling. You were standing in it now, between Joel’s legs, hands still enclosed in Tommy’s as he helped you keep your balance. Joel was trying not to think about how your core was aligned perfectly before him as you stood. You turned, ass swaying as you prepared to sit on his clothed lap. They both looked away as your body was fluctuating in the prettiest fucking way they’d both ever seen.

“S’okay baby, sit down.” You bent down to hold the sides of the tub, letting Tommy go. You were spread open right in front of Joel’s face, the back of your pussy practically calling to him as it finally came in contact with his lap.

Tommy turns around and sighs before walking out of the bathroom to fetch towels like an obedient dog. Joel shuffled you, with what would have been awkward silence between the three of you if two of you weren’t high. If one of you hadn’t just left the room.

Joel has already swallowed his dusty piece of sanctuary. You had too, in the tea he made you thirty minutes ago. He was dangling another pill in front of you, now that Tommy was out of sight. This time allowing you a choice; rather than remain silent as it swam down your throat.

"Let me help you sum’ more, baby. Gonna give you something to help the hurt. Don’t go running, an’ don't tell Tommy. He wouldn't like that I'm makin’ you feel good."

Telling Tommy would consist of more non-compartmentalized guilt and yet another thing for him to look down upon Joel for. Another bullet point to add to Tommy’s list of Reasons Joel is a Fucking Asshole. And you needed help right now. This is how he could help you. So no, he would not be telling Tommy that he fed the girl more pills, too. She was simply exhausted and needed help bathing. She was in pain and needed him; them. Tommy would have done the same, no?

He slipped around on the wetness of your lips before he parted them with one, thick finger.

“Stick out your tongue for me.”

He notes your lack of hesitation to open your mouth for him. He places the bitter thing there, gently.

“Swallow.”

He smirked as you obeyed.

“You’re a’ good little thing, you know. S'good to listen and mind.” He tucked your hair behind your ear so that it wouldn’t keep falling in your face.

His drugs were now yours. His regrets, too. And he secretly hoped that his desires were burning into your body and being met with the same inner incineration. But he wasn’t regretting it right that moment. Not as he watched your body slacken. He knew your entire being was numb when you were reaching up at him, fingers looking for feeling.

His thumb ran across the plumpness of your bottom lip and his thighs flexed inadvertently. You felt the small jerk of his body, your eyes drawn upwards meeting his. He felt the moment your breathing became deeper, slipping through his skull and resting on the center of his lust. Then he heard the teetering of the old house as it sang. He heard chatter outside, and it all sounded happy, nothing scary around. He returned to your nose, where a little black wish sat, kissing your cheek. He moved his thumb up to brush the eyelash away and whisper his own silent prayer.

You looked around his face before resting your gaze on his lips, and he knew that you were slipping deeper too. The moment ended in a split second torn into a million, and you were looking him in the eyes. Your pupils are already blown, helpless, and in need of strong arms to hold you upright. It fucking hurt. You hadn’t been so willing without the drugs. The pit of his stomach crawled in need as your back rested against it. Your ass was scooted up, and he could feel the break between your legs, could feel the warmer skin of your pussy kissing his thighs.

He loosely assumed that you’d never been in the bath with a man before, either. Probably never been naked in front of one... or two. And he knew that it shouldn’t be something he was proud of, to have you here, safe in his arms and naked in his bath. But he was.

“Feel something?”

“Mhmm.”

He felt your response in the tone of your flexing abdomen. His wide fingertips sink into your cushioned fat and the softness of your stretch marks. It stung, the water, like having his presence near it set it off, simmering around his body, trying to kiss anything of him that it could. The water was pretty pink for a few moments, your body releasing the hold it had on your dried blood and the dirt accompanying it. His hands were occupied by the washcloth he was softly rubbing against your body. Then it was dark, and whenever you looked down it was harder and harder to see the end of his legs, stretching out before and underneath you, holding your body (against his) up. “Fuck me.” It was he who had released that sound.

“Good, been staring out tha’ window for far too long,” he said. “You can look at something prettier now. Close your eyes, bunny.”

You did what Joel wanted of you, and quickly you fell into the heavy light buzzing right outside of yourself like your aura was bouncing off of the smoldering color... like a blanket, maybe. One of blurred confessions and soft, radiating heat. Your arms are heavier but in a slow melting comfort, and it feels like butterflies right above your hip bones crawling right towards your cunt in a low pulse. As if the energy moved and hovered itself into your underwear and is prodding its fingertips into your soaking center, touching every bit of swollen flesh as his fingers disappear into you. But he’s sitting still, you think. He is everywhere but inside of you.

Your memories lilt against your skull, retracting from any indication of themselves. Much of who you were is gone, left in dark patches of shadow and musk. Outlines of a monster (human) ((him)) setting his jaw on your shoulder from behind, willing the air to kiss that spot right under your ear. Your own blood, his sweat. The undulating sway of his plush lips and impending jaw from below. You’d only seen him this way, from below. Like he was something holy, forever above you and rarely looking down. You reach up and feel his face, running the sensitive skin of your fingertips against his stubbly chin and neck.

Most of your time was spent contently sitting in your (Joel’s) favorite chair, the one you hadn't really left or released yourself from, just assuming that it had now formed to your body. Maybe you had melted into the dirty crevices, instead. You wanted nothing more than to sink into it and become a part of the worn and well-loved fabric. No one expected anything of this chair. For it to simply exist confirms its usefulness.

A week or so ago, you had been dying, pooling blood turned your skin terian-like, how the tips of your fingers used to turn in the now-cold bath. He was right– it had been years. This death doesn't feel much different. Just slower. You had been doing better before Tommy left to check the perimeters and outward land of Jackson. They didn’t know that no one would be following you. Or looking for you… needing you. Praying for you.

Joel thinks a lot about the comfort-glaze of your eyes whenever you saw Tommy that day like you’d been happy that he was there to see you off, hold your hand as you looked into the sky and deflate into the ground. He thinks about how you’d probably rather have him here, now.

Maybe that’s what you write in your notebook, still sitting in the chair, but this time with your face turned towards your lap, completely lost under the lamp every night around 10:37.

Maybe that's what is feeding into his mood.

You would have already been in that bath if Tommy were to ask you, rather than Joel. He thinks about how Tommy’s eyes lit up when he first looked into yours, hazel. Gaze flashing as if in recognition of an importance. Joel could see a hint of the brother he once knew, before his world ended. Before all of your worlds ended. He knew in that moment that something shifted for the both of you, but for Joel, it felt like drowning.

He looked at you and he saw the torn, soft skin of a small animal. He didn’t know that the damage was on the inside.

Joel resented the way he was drawn to you, it made him viscerally angry at himself. He was angry at how calling you baby had been so easy, the way he felt his cock thicken at the sound of your grunt in agreement. Or the smell of you, even though you hadn’t bathed in god knows how fucking long. He pretended it was the drugs, but it wasn’t. These were his secrets and the web was already intertwining with itself. He almost feels like if he were to tug on it now, even more shit would fall out, come unstuck and drag him into the ground to a place where he’s surprised he isn't lying already.

How can you hide such a carnal want? He’s unfamiliar with the feeling. Uncomfortable with it.

What would they say? Would Tess say? “One more pussy for you to fuck, Joel? This time it's new and fresh, betcha could teach her a thing or two, huh?” Tess had always been the jealous type, Joel clocked it the first week they met. She hid it well, but you can’t hide from someone who recognizes something in you, because they recognize it in themselves, too. Joel and Tess, Tess and Joel. The town knew there was something happening between the two of them, but no one said anything. They knew Joel was her loyal guard dog. They knew not to disturb Mr. Miller's peace. He was a kind enough man, besides that.

He was hoping for anything other than to hear the question, "You think you can save this one, too?" He knew that he couldn't. He couldn't promise your safety. However, he could sense that you were in need of it. Perhaps not obviously at first glance; you appeared tough on the surface, but there was something in your eyes that begged him, “Release me. Let me rest.” Something calling his name. He was hearing it now, in the cadence of your voice, whispering around his head as he stopped himself from touching you.

He knew that they, you, would get him in trouble if he didn’t stop it and try to pawn it off to someone else before it (his desire) got too bad. “Hey, look, she’s with him, not me. Now let me sit and stutter into the darkness while you take the only thing that has made you feel an inch of something in the past month.”

They would chain him up if he ever admitted the level of his desires. Embarrassed at the way he was already entirely attached to you. Something about, “I almost killed you, but let me be the savior. Love me enough to let me swallow you whole,” probably wouldn’t sit too well.

“Joel?” you questioned, slow and small.

His skin rises instantly, stunned by your sound and the touch of your body. “What did you–?” he softly shhh’s you because suddenly, the way your body hums into his when you speak is too much. Your hand continues to fall slowly against the thicker hair near his jaw, ghosting over unsaid words and lips. His breathing was becoming too heavy for someone who was just there to be a savior.

“Gettin’ clean feels good,” his heavy thumbs pinching deeper into skin, voice far away and muffled under yearning, drowning, “don’t it, pretty?”

You let your arms hit the water, too tired and blissed out to hold them up longer. He chuckled and it rang through every inch of your nude being. The water splashed, and the roundness of Joel’s lower belly retracted quickly from your back, startled by the closeness of your body. You hadn’t felt it before, his whole self pressed firmly against you. The thickness of it. Your thighs oozed over his lap, completely covering him. Your feet ended at almost his mid-leg. He stretched further out in the bath ahead of you.

Joel didn’t need a verbal response from you. Knew you couldn’t give him one anyway. He knew that he should, that’s the right way to go about this. But he had just carried you over his lap for a week, bleeding out on him, screaming. He would help you relieve yourself, too, when needed. Couldn’t pee by yourself the first couple of days. Didn’t bother him much, not after what he’d seen. He’s had much worse cross his hands. He knew the whole ride back that if you were conscious enough to know that you were still alive, you’d be embarrassed to hell that he would help you off the horse, pull your pants down, and hold you. He couldn’t understand why that had shuffled something inside of him. The point is, he’s seen it all anyway. All of you, physically at least. Now he was simply just helping you out some more. Until you could tell him to stop. It's the least he could do if he really did shoot her.

He watched as they pulled the bullet out of your side, Tommy pale-faced in the corner, shrinking.

Joel knew you were out from the pain meds they had stuck into your veins, but that wasn’t a good enough promise that you would sit still through it, that it would be painless.

When you hold more weight, you need a little more.

He slipped you a little something extra before all the men got there that night to see and help. Your body was lying on his kitchen table, sweating and tired, dying. But you– you were asleep with a soft smile on your lips. He held you still, just just in case, hands pushed down into your cushioned stomach. The other was around your wrists, positioned just above your head so that the ‘doctors’ had room to move freely around your side. It was hard not to stare at a body that looked well-fed and healthy, in a world like this. Your breasts were moving softly with every movement of your body from other hands. Your hair under your arms was dark and visible in the way he was holding your hands above your head.

No one dared speak upon your body with Joel around, especially since he was the one that dragged you in here, meaning you were his property, Miller property, now.

TOMMY looked away upon entering, watching Joel retreat from where he was whispering into your ear. He could hear the bass of his brother's voice, slowly echoing in the hallway. He would pretend, for the sake of his sanity, that he didn’t know exactly what was happening before witnessing it. Especially after Joel had mentioned a couple of times that you seemed closer to his age, meaning keep an eye on this one, brother. “She’d probably like ya more anyway, younger n’ more capable. Bigger name in Jackson, too.” This coming from the mouth of a man who even went as far as to say, “Coulda’ made a good wife,” three hours after shooting her.

People all deal with things differently, he guesses.

It wouldn’t be the first time that he secretly craved something that his big brother was dangling in front of him, knowing that somehow he had the advantage. But then Tommy felt guilty thinking that way. Joel had been through so much and lost too many people for Tommy to get in the way of whatever look took over your body as you sat against his chest, halfway immersed in water and looking up into Joel’s face. You looked more peaceful now than you have at any moment since stepping into this house.

“Come and try to get her, Tommy.”

But of course, he won’t show that he yearns for you, too. It feels wrong. That Joel was the one to kill you but you were staying with him; that he was your primary safekeeper and healer. You were sitting on his lap, nipples hard and body at attention, peacefully asleep with your cheek pushed up against the hair on Joel's chest, resting in the arms of the man who nearly succeeded at killing you.

If he were to say anything else, it would be, “I know you fucking drugged her, Joel. N’ you didn’t even give her a choice.” But he didn’t want to wake a sleeping bear, not right now. Not when you looked so peaceful and pain-free for the first time since they grabbed the world from underneath your feet. Not when the very thing Tommy could not stop thinking about was lying on the bear’s chest.

YOU can feel yourself between your legs. It’s the kind of absentee pulse that you almost want to stop, but it feels too good. Light fingertips brushing the hair on the back of your neck. Like that of knowing a lightning storm is crawling its way across the night sky. Or hearing the neighbor roll their trash can down their road, unable to tell if it’s thunder or an earthquake in its deep humming, only to be relieved that it is in fact another human existing in close proximity to you. Although not something that you remember too well now, just the feeling. It’s surprising and suspenseful at the same moment. It’s love and then what comes after.

There’s always an after.

Then you feel the drip running from right inside of you into the hot water, against the fluttering of your thickening lips.

Please. Kiss me here. Hard, hurtful, and sinful. Strip me to my bones and then use them as your toys. Then tell me I’m a good girl and run your hands through my hair. Tell me I fought good and hard and then let me lie here for a while.

Chanting like a prayer.

You remember the smell of his lap, much different than the smell of his neck, but still devastatingly carnal. You cradled into the warmth of his neck; in the burn of his embrace and you sat there, teetering between consciousness and the bliss of finally being held. You had always been afraid that you would leave the world and not even be able to wrap your own arms around you. But someone was holding you before the ground will be— forever. This didn’t feel like dying through.

This felt like something else. Similar, but different.

You sat on top of Joel’s lap in the bath for at least an hour, resting your head on his shoulder, turning and resting it against his chest, too. They both washed you, silently eating you up. Tommy stood outside of the bath, combing your hair after Joel ran his gruff hands through it, pawing at your scalp and rubbing the dirt (hurt) from your scalp. No one talked, everyone inside their own thoughts.

Joel was stuck thinking about the small bags of things you had lost grasp on whenever you fell (were shot). It looked like time-worn items that meant something, from before the world was this way. One is an old driver's license- your smile, happy, content, young. Your name, now repeating in Joel’s head over and over, and over and over, coating every inch of him. He still hadn’t heard it come from your lips.

9 years ago, this all started. You, now in your mid-20s. How long had you been all alone? No one had come running to your corpse.

They had come to the conclusion that you were doing well on your own. You weren’t skin and bones like most of them who are lucky enough to survive and find their way to Jackson. You were thick, and heavy in the most beautiful way. Heavy meant healthy, able to hunt, and useful. It meant maybe being able to carry children. It meant handfuls of skin and whispered praises. It meant more to wash, to take in, and try not to touch. It was too much for both of them. The only difference is that Joel knew he was a weak man. He wouldn’t be able to control himself if he kept feeling this way.

After they removed you from Joel’s lap, they towel dried you and you slowly became more aware of how different four large hands felt grasping at your body, taking care of you. Helping you.

An hour or so had passed and Tommy was lying in bed next to you, reading something. Joel turned the corner and leaned up against the doorframe.

“Tommy.” There was tar in his throat, dripping down the back of his tongue and settling in his chest. He was a million pounds and his legs could no longer bear the weight of her. Of you. Of his guilt for slipping your drugs and undressing you in his bathroom.

He looked into you, bounced off the sides of your mind, and then straight into the bed you were lying upon, sleeping so peacefully next to his brother. Tommy sees the pain in Joel's eyes, hung lower in embarrassment.

He did this to you. He took the life of someone who had the rest of this fucked up world ahead of her. And it was a slow and painful death, too. You were someone’s daughter. It’s fucked up how the world works like that, huh? It wasn’t enough losing his own daughter- he had to kill someone else too. Does your dad, husband, or mother, feel you slipping from the world? Do they hear hushed whispers in the night of your name leaving something tongue?

Joel stopped believing in God a long time ago. He was slipping from his grip, facing the fall, and Sarah’s last moments solidified his feet on the ground. Almost under. Still surprised it’s not under.

“I’ll take her, Joel. In the mornin we’ll pack up some things and go back to my house.” He said softly, nodding and looking down at the ground in an unspoken, “I know.”

It's Tommy who steps forward, taking charge and offering to care for you. He can sense his brother’s connection to you, why he wants to save you so badly. So much so that he can’t. He doesn’t trust himself for what will happen if someone else dies under his watch, because of him. Someone innocent. “I know she’s sleepin’ but can we have a moment?” Joel asks.

Tommy doesn’t question him, he marks his page, sets down his book, and carries his body from the bed to the hallway. Joel waited a moment and assured me that you were tucked in well, warm from the bath. He sighed, one of pain.

“I’m so sorry,” his voice was stern in the way that held back his tears. “You have to believe me,” he whispered your name, the first time it left his tongue and he wanted to say it over and over again. “I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have done that to you without askin’.” He caressed your face, watching as your body reacted to his touch, stirring, before the bed creaked with the weight of his body leaving, and then he was gone. You had heard everything, felt him leaving. The room felt entirely too empty.

The Devil was begging you to forgive him, and you wanted to. You wanted to bring your palms together and whisper his name through the cracks, hoping he would hear your silent prayer. “Let me stay here, with you.”

Tommy entered the room again and sank under the covers. He moved his body closer to you and you decided to bask in it, instead.

You wake up, unclear but clean. You don’t remember last night in great detail, or at least a few hours of it, at all. He slept peacefully despite the world’s end, cocooned in a haven his mind crafted. Your mind was far less forgiving— or maybe you still hadn’t learned how to ‘deal with it’. You always felt like everyone dealt with It better. The room lay shrouded in darkness, your thoughts raging, Joel’s words echoed in your mind, etching against the soft inside of your head, deeper with each repetition. His guilty confession and desperate plea for forgiveness replayed. But forgiveness was no longer something you believed in. The world had ended, shattered, and reassembled without remorse. You are sober now. You fall back asleep.

Your eyes opened again to Tommy caving the bed closer to him, moving your body closer, too. You closed your eyes quickly, away from him, and pretended you hadn’t been awake and listening to the lull of his deep breathing, trying to gain your standing. You felt comforted, waking up next to his freckled shoulders. The hazy light of morning was trailing in from the window and laying out on the carpet, stretching itself in the morning confusion.

There was one thing you were absolutely-fucking-sure about, and it was that Joel Miller had drugged you, and it had secretly awakened something unknown inside of you. It tickled, but it was shoving its way up your stomach and relentless, neverending in its pursuit of something.

Tommy Miller had saved you. At least he had put you to bed, it seems. And with him, too, rather than the one who seems to be dissolving into his own. Your hair was wet and you smelled like Joel, but you were shrouded in Tommy’s clothes. Slightly more fitting, and better kept together.

You’d never slept in a bed with a man before. And then all of sudden there were two, interchangeably. Brothers. One that smiled above your eyes and one below. Ones that rocked the bed differently each time their body swam through the damp covers.

You’d never taken a bath with a man either. Never had anyone's brother ever pulled your sinking body out of bathwater. You remember the inward push of the water and the hands that followed, reaching through it, pushing you forward to Tommy.

There’s a quick assessment you’ve always done, automatically but unintentionally, “Would this one stop if I asked him to?” Most are ‘no’s. Tommy was a yes in your mind. He would put away his soft, white wings and free you from his divinity if you were to ask.

He was sipping his coffee, dressed in his usual, alone at the table. He had opened the blinds he made sure three times he shut last night. The smoke billowed from the base of the cup into his face and hair, mixing with the silver tuffs. They shone against the darkness at the nape of his neck and the bottom of his chin from the emitting light.

He looked calm sitting there, as content as a devil could. He felt you before you had even turned the corner upstairs, but he didn’t say anything. He never really did.

That being said, you can't remember much of anything besides wondering if it was indeed your body that rustled the ground that day. It was, and then you felt a man. A few days could have been weeks, and suddenly you were sitting in a town. A word that didn’t mean too much for a long time, but it did again; sitting at the breakfast table of a man, undulating under his gaze and between the blank spaces of your memory.

An animal caged inside itself looks for relief in any way it can. Even if the relief is a different kind of pain masked as want. It meant throwing away your expectations and doing what it took to survive.

You intended on speaking first. Rather, you reached the bottom of the stairs and tucked Tommy’s red flannel across your sparsely clothed body, and suddenly heard, “Shouldn’t be half-naked when Ellie’s here. She’s a kid.”

He didn’t even take the time to move his attention away from his coffee cup. That would be too much effort given to you. You ignored him, wanting to scream, “Was she here last night when you played with me like I was your little fucking doll?” You didn’t give him what he wanted, but still hoping he would give you what you did.

You had watched the back of your eyelids dance with the small red and green dots for two more hours before getting up, willing remembrance. And oh, did it come.

“Got any more of those?”

“Of what?” He spat, eyebrows lowering in pretend interest in his hot coffee again… into his fuming lap. He knew exactly what the fuck you were talking about. How dare he take advantage of you and then throw it to the side like nothing happened. He was embarrassed. Embarrassed that he got high and took you with him.

“This is feeling’ a lot different than last night. Those little round things that kept me pliant an’ dead enough for you to press yourself into my naked body? – Joel, do you think I’m not payin’ any fuckin’ attention? The second I tasted the salt on your fingertips, I knew it was you shovin’ pills down my throat. I knew it. And the way you were talking to me, calling me babygirl and sweetheart? Then I didn’t know anything, for a while. Not really. But Tommy,” you were raising your voice now, “Tommy was there too, then I woke up in his bed with his clothes on instead of yours— just tell me what the fuck happened Joel!”

“Lower your voice, right now.” He was pointing at you, and his body moved closer to yours. “You… you wanted it Bunny,” He growled, “You practically drooled across my palm.” He sighed, gathered the lies from his web, and prepared them. He had already prepared his own cocoon, years ago.

He hadn't been the only one whose high wore off far too early in the night.

“You didn’t say you didn’t want ‘em and—“

Then you spoke above the sentence he was starting to dig deeper into the ground, to his surprise, in a softer tone. One that had a hint of sweetness to it, of want.

“Sweethear–”

“Do it again. Felt good.”

You liked it. Wasn’t the only thing he wanted to shove down your throat, either. No, no, no. Shaking the thought from his head.

He removed his eyes from the creases in the wood floor and sewed them into your gaze instead, eyebrows cresting. He wanted to make sure he heard you right. He wanted to hear you repeat it.

“Say that again?”

“Said feels good when you touch me like that. When I’m melting into your flesh and sinking down your bones. That’s what the water felt like. First, it felt like fire, perfect for a Devil, and then it felt like a calm warmth. Then your hands were touchin’ me and, no one has ever touched–

a pause, “like—“

“No one has ever touched you, bunny?”

“No, Joel. And I hate you so much for making me feel this way. For showing me something I can’t continue to have because it’s wrong and, for being so sweet to me and then eating me up like I'm a burden because you couldn't just fucking kill me when you had the chance... and…I can barely even fucking walk. I am in so much pain but you took it away for a while last night. You took everything bad away. Why didn’t you just ask?”

“Hate me, huh? Thas’a strong word for someone who is depending on me, wanting more.” Good. This is how it needed to be. He needed to take care of Ellie, himself now. He promised her that he would.

“Depending on you? Sorry, I forgot we hadn’t got to that part of the conversation yet, past the one where you drugged me. You dropped me into your brother's arms as of last night, didn’t you? I remember it, you musta popped one too many, huh?”

Your attitude and his lack of sleep were making it easier to will the words off the end of his tongue.

“He seemed better suited for someone…” he looked you up and down, “like yourself.”

You didn’t have anything to say to that, and he was immediately sorry after speaking about it.

“For being such a big bad man in this town, you don’t have your fucking shit together,” returning the look he gave you, “do you?”

You were out of breath, releasing too much of yourself into his anger, knees weak and side-splitting in pain. You weren’t going to tell him that you were awake when he begged for your forgiveness. That you heard every word he whispered and repeated it back to yourself as if it was a passage pulled right from the pen-marked Bible your dad used to shove into your hands nightly.

He thought you had been listening to everyone talking, in the mess hall and whatever drama Ellie had brought home. Maybe even Tommy had told you about the real Joel. The real Joel will tear you apart.

You sat down on the sunken chestnut couch and the pillows lifted more of his smell into your space, settling and trying to get comfortable. You both remained silent, stung. It made you even more mad that he had the ability to stick straight into your anger like that. So you wished for a way to really hurt him like you were some kind of child.

You weren’t done yet. You were angry. So fucking angry at everything you have endured. And he was standing there, pity and disgust in his eyes–but he was looking, seeing… listening.

“Tess.” Her name stung like the sound it ended with, for a reason you didn’t know, but inherently felt after last night. The hurt that flashed into his dark pupils spread through the tightness in his jaw.

“Don’t you fuckin-”

“Oh. Shut. Up. Joel. Heard ‘er talking to Tommy last night. Came knocking on the door around 1:30 am, asking for you. Tommy went to your room and you weren’t in there. Went back downstairs and said he couldn't find you, seen you only a couple of hours ago. She was throwing her hands against the door like it was hers to tear down. Guess she didn’t know I wasn’t with you,” you took a deep breath, trying to relieve the pain so you could continue, “Have you seen him? N’ that girl? Tommy, she's a fucking kid. Ain't right for him.” You mimicked her concern. You knew immediately who she was asking for. “Maybe I should go ask Tess if she would give me a few, she seems like she’d like to know what’s going on.”

His jaw was flexing, his eyes burrowing into you, biting the inside of his lip. You continued,

“Feels’good being numb for a’while. I’m always fanning off another fire but it always finds the loose thread and kisses it ablaze anyway. This feels like sinking... like I don’t have to fight anymore.”

His deep breath stifled the fire on his chest.

“Know it’s good,” his tone falling deep, low, and warning, “But you don’t need anymore.”

“Don’t I? You were the one who fucking shot me. The least you could do is slip me some pills. I’m in pain, Joel. I’m hurting.” He knew that you weren’t just talking about the wound in your side, that he put it there with his own split metal. He wanted to take that hurt away, get you curled up tight against him and high, painless, protected yet free– from a world you were too young to be living in alone. But how could he protect you from even himself?

He didn't even save her. Nothing has changed now besides the fact he finds it harder and harder to get out of bed every day. That he’s running low on whiskey and that's what keeps the bear inside. The pills keep it sedated. How could he admit that he was not fit to be your protector, and the only other person in town who it could be, was Tommy?

That's why today was the last day you'd be slamming down his stairs. Your footsteps were a reminder that the hurt animal had made its way into his house. A reminder that he was the one who hurt it.“‘M not given’ you anymore. So don’t open your mouth about it again. Got it?"

As always, please let me know if I missed any warnings / want me to add you to the taglist: @worhols @sarap-77 @mishasminion360 @justagalwhowrites @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @romanarose @milla-frenchy @bandluvr97 @alwaysdjarin @hellfyreroz @northernbluess-blog @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @pr0ximamidnight @morgaussy @n7cje @theywhowriteandknowthings @gracie7209 @pedritoferg @twirl731 @k-ra @gintheginger @obscurexsorrows @cool-iguana @livingdeadmaria @ours-is-a-strange-fate @rayslittlekitten @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrotonin @bluetattoos @sscorpiiio @joeldjarin @faggotinie @justlulu

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miraculouslbcnreactions · 1 month

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Wait, is it true the writers said Marinette and Gabriel are meant to represent individual creative spirit versus corporate greed?

Taken from the writer's commentary on the final two episodes

In the next scene, we can see Marinette taking the miraculous that have been standardised and industrialised by Gabriel and putting them back in shape. The writers specify that this is a parabole about craftsmanship vs industrial production. The miraculous will now be adapted to every person, but we can’t see what they look like just yet! In this new world, the powers are all shared, among people who they trust and know will work for the common good. They joke that the "Avengers" shot at the end with all the heroes is something they’d been dreaming of.

There's also that bit from her confrontation with Gabriel where he randomly acts like he's The God of Fashion (taken from S5E20):

Gabriel: I don't think you understand, child, so let me put things differently. Life is like fashion. You think you have a choice, but all you have is the illusion of choice. And I decide what choices are given to you. Marinette: You're wrong! (Shows Gabriel her sketchbook.) Fashion is about listening to people, it's about understanding who they are, what excites them and creating the clothes that will help them express their inner world. Help them connect with others and make their dreams come true. Gabriel:(Laughs and takes her sketchbook, then browses its pages.) No, that's not fashion. That's making dresses for your dolls. Fashion is a product, a marketing strategy, an industry that relies on uninterrupted trend renewal that forces you to either throw away everything you have and buy more or, worse, to be out of fashion. Thanks to the clothes I create, the celebrities who wear them, the advertisements I design and the Alliance rings that broadcast them, I create an idyllic vision. A perfection that everyone aspires to achieve, while keeping it just out of their grasp. You finally understand the difference, don't you? You listen to people's desires and create what they want. Somehow, people make you. Whereas I create people's desires. They buy what I decide to buy. They think what I want them to think. I'm the one who makes people. You think you love Adrien, but you're just under the spell of this world I've created. A world where Adrien is the star, shining high above. A world where you're just part of the crowd below looking up at him. (Shuts the sketchbook.) That is why nothing can ever happen between you two.

So, yeah, this is apparently supposed to be them talking about some kind of central theme of individual creators vs mass production? The problem is that it basically comes out of nowhere. If the writers really wanted to have this be some sort of message, then they needed to establish this a lot sooner because Marinette has had no issues with his fashion company nor has anyone else.

An example of a way to do this would be to have Marinette win the hat competition in season one, Adrien models it in season two, and then give us a series of episodes where Marinette gets to learn about the production process for her hat. She gets to see it mass produced and then gets to learn how fast fashion works and, by the end, she's no longer a fan of the fashion industry even though she still loves fashion. It would be a much better environmental message then the nonsense we've been given, too.

But the show didn't give us anything like that. We've never seen a single Gabriel brand product save for the stuff Adrien wears and the alliance rings, which are phones more than fashion accessories, so it makes sense that they'd have a uniform look. Even if phones were made to order, you wouldn't see much variety in the base product save for color. The customization on a phone is the background and the alliance lets you customize your "background" (aka your Adrien, Lila, or Kagami) as we saw in Jubilation when Socqueline was showing off her alliance.

Side note: I realized that Jubilation takes place before I started writing mini episode reviews, so I wanted to make a quick note of how creepy it is that you can customize your alliance avatar given who the avatars are. Gabriel and Tomoe seriously took their 14-year-olds and told people of all ages to treat them like dolls, which is extra creepy given how many fans Adrien has. That has some messed up in-universe implications that make me shudder. What were the writers thinking?

#ml writing salt #ml writing critical #ml season 5 salt

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fixfoxnox · 1 year

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I was the one who asked for the reverse au and ASGDHDOEJSUCJ

Amazing. Brilliant. Showstopping

Villain Roach making me act UP, if you don't mind writing another drabble of it, please do. Roach was perfect and Makarov is so strong, if I were him I would've folded at the tounge move

Thank you again (⁠´⁠∩⁠｡⁠•⁠ ⁠ᵕ⁠ ⁠•⁠｡⁠∩⁠`⁠)

Okay its finished you may read it now, I apologize for posting early i am too clumsy apparently

Anon you are iconic for coming up with the idea, we adore you and ultranationalist Roach will be making many more appearances here! Here is another drabble for you my friend

Warnings: Dub-con, threats, little bit of knife play, some minor nsfw

Makarov felt like he was being tested. This entire thing had to be some elaborate test or scheme from Sanderson. It just had to be. There was no way that the man had actually left him alone, in a house, with a working computer and phone.

He stared at them carefully, his hand itching to reach out and grab one. He could just call his teammates, they could get a track on him, they'd have the place surrounded in hours. But it was too easy. Because surely, surely, a man who had gone through whatever great lengths to kidnap him, wouldn't leave him alone, in a house, with a working phone and computer. It just didn't make sense.

Perhaps he was hallucinating? That would certainly explain things. Maybe the previous night had all been a hallucination too. Sanderson, the way he'd kissed his neck, how he'd grinned at him and claimed him as his own before taking his mouth. Perhaps what had followed had been a hallucination too? Being guided up the stairs and led to a room that seemed almost personalized to his tastes. The way Sanderson had pressed up against him with a purr and kissed him again before leaving him by himself. If all of that had truly happened, then why the hell had he woken up in an empty house, alone, with a working phone and computer left out on the counter of the kitchen.

He hesitated for a moment, looking around him to see if there were any visible cameras. This had to be a trap. He stared at the computer and phone for a moment longer. His thoughts raced around his head. He slowly began to reach out for the phone.

"If you're thinking about trying to contact your team, it won't work."

Makarov nearly jumped out of his skin, turning with rising panic in his chest as he met the gaze of the figure that had managed to sneak up on him. It was a man in a wheelchair. He was almost unassuming, but Makarov could see the muscles of his arms and, more threateningly, he could see a gun strapped to his leg. "Who are you?" His eyes narrowed onto the weapon.

"Paul Jackson," the man moved toward him just slightly. Makarov recognized the name, his eyes went wide and his heart picked up speed as he looked the man over in a new light.

"You're-"

"Roach's second in command?" Jackson gave him a smirk, "You're tense, don't worry, I'm not here to hurt you."

Makarov pressed himself back against the counter behind him, "Really?" He scoffed, "Then what are you here for, and why the gun?"

Jackson looked down at his lap, as though he'd forgotten that he was wearing the weapon. "The gun is for protection," he looked back up at him, "Roach wanted me to have it in case you tried to attack me. Don't worry, takedown shots only though."

Makarov tried to ignore the fact that Sanderson didn't want him dead, even if he attacked his second in command. He really didn't want to think about what that meant for him or the way that the knowledge burned pleasantly through his mind. "And the other? Why are you here?"

"Roach wanted me to show you everything, give you a quick rundown," Jackson looked him up and down for a moment, "we'll be seeing more of each other soon, and he wants us to get along at least a bit."

"And," Makarov hesitated for a moment, "Where is Sanderson?"

"Roach," Jackson was quick to correct, "Call him Sanderson and you might actually make him mad. You're a friend, you call him Roach."

Makarov hesitated for a moment, but at the man's warning look he was quick to acquiesce, "Alright, where is Roach?"

Jackson gave him a grin, "He's in some meetings for the day, he'll be back tonight. Now then, I'll show you the ropes." He motioned behind Makarov to the kitchen. "As I'm sure you can tell, this is the kitchen," Makarov gave a small snort at the man's words, "Fully stocked at all times, use whatever you want to, make whatever you want to. If we don't have something, there's a number on the fridge for a local grocer. Just call and tell them what you need and they'll get it for you and have it sent to the house. If its less urgent, you can put it on the list on the fridge," he pointed toward a little notepad stuck with a magnet to the large stainless steel fridge. "If you want something permanently stocked in the kitchen just ask Roach and he'll put it on the list for you." Jackson motioned for him to follow with his hand and Makarov had no choice but to follow the man into one of the back hallways, to a sliding glass door.

"I assume they're here to keep me from leaving?" He raised an eyebrow at the several guards that he could see milling around the property.

"Surely you didn't think Roach was going to just let you stay here unsupervised?" Jackson shot him an unimpressed look. It made Makarov flush, just a bit of anger running through him. He glared at the man, but all it seemed to do was pull a grin from his lips. "There," Jackson pointed to one of the buildings, "Is the personal gym. Connected to it is the indoor pool. The guards will let you go over there, by the way. You can also use the outdoor pool when its warm enough, which," he shrugged, "isn't right now."

"Well I could guess that," Makarov raised an eyebrow at the man, the frost outside the window making it fairly clear that there would be no swimming.

"Just had to say," Jackson turned away, beginning to guide him back into the living area, "I never know with you Russians."

Makarov glared at the back of the man's head again. He had to be doing this to fuck with him. No way he was actually such an asshole. He didn't say that though, instead he just let himself be lead into the living room.

"Every other room on the first floor is entertainment," Jackson stopped, turning his wheelchair to face him. "Games, TV, Internet, books, whatever you could want. If there's something you want that we don't have, just ask Roach and he'll order it for you." He pointed to the TV, "About the internet and phone shit, do yourself a favor and don't try to contact your team. If you do, the system will know and boot you out for a bit." The man turned away from him, beginning toward the front door, "Thats really it. Like I said, Roach will be back later. Have fun."

With that, the man was out the front door, leaving Makarov by himself in an unfamiliar home, apparently just waiting around for a terrorist to come back home. The thought made him want to tug his hair out.

He was sleeping when Roach got back. Laid out on the couch in the living room, his eyes had betrayed him and he'd found himself slipping off into darkness. He was woken up by something, or someone, crawling into his lap and laying their head on his chest.

His eyes flew open when a hand began to rub across his chest teasingly. His face went red as he met the bright grin and wide eyes of Roach, the younger man looking at him like he wanted to eat him alive. It made his heart race faster as much as it made heat creep over his skin.

"Roach," he acknowledged weakly.

Roach only gave a hum, leaning up closer to him teasingly before asking, "You just had to try didn't you?"

Makarov felt his face go red. He knew exactly what Roach was referring to. Nearly every computer and electronic in the house was currently on a countdown. Jackson hadn't been lying when he warned that if Makarov tried to contact his team, he would be booted from the system.

It was frustratingly quick how fast the system had picked up on what he was trying to do. It was almost like a child safety lock, the entire computer going black as a little timer popped up telling him that he would have to wait twenty four hours before being let back into the system.

"Can you blame me," He asked, his face bright red.

Roach gave another hum, burying his face into his neck to begin placing kisses along his throat. "No," he muttered finally. He didn't say anything else, just kept his hands running teasingly over his chest as his mouth worked at his throat.

Makarov was flustered, but he was also terribly surprised. He'd expected for Roach to be enraged with him, to maybe hit him or do something other than just touch him and leave oh so tempting little kisses across his throat. "You," Makarov gasped, feeling Roach grind his lower half against him. It pulled a mischievous grin to the younger man's face and he left a bruising nip just under Makarov's jaw, "You- you're not mad," he finally managed to get out. His voice was absolutely wrecked, sounding high and needy to his own ears. It was frustrating, like his own body was fighting against him.

Roach pulled away from his neck, sitting up to straddle him fully. "Of course I'm not mad. I expected you to do it silly." He grinned at him, "besides, I'm sure being locked out of the system and bored all day was punishment enough. No need for me to do more." He bit his lip, staring down at him with a demure little smile as he ground his hips into him. It was clear to see that any and all innocence he had was fake.

Makarov could say nothing as Roach fixed his hands against his chest and started to slowly, languidly, rock his hips against him. He could feel how hard the other man was against him and, much to his own embarrassment, how hard he was from the attention. He watched as Roach tilted his head back temptingly, little gasps escaping his throat as he rutted against him. It was almost too distracting. Almost.

Makarov had a plan though. He had a plan and he intended to stick by it. He let his hands slowly move, trying not to gain the other man's attention as he slipped one hand into his jacket pocket, searching for the little blade he'd hidden there earlier. To his confusion, his hands met nothing. He tried his other pocket. Nothing.

Suddenly, the rutting against him stopped and there was a snicker from the man above him. "Looking for this?" Makarov watched in horror as Roach twirled the little knife he'd stashed in his pocket between his fingers.

"How did you-" there was a knife against his throat. It didn't press hard, just sat there against his skin. The threat was somehow worse.

"Checked you while you were alseep," Roach leaned down, their noses touching as he pouted at the man, "I figured you try something like this. I'm a little offended," he rolled his hips down again, still achingly hard in his jeans, "I thought we were enjoying ourselves."

"I-"

Roach tutted, cutting him off by pressing the knife closer to his skin. He spoke to him again, his voice dropped into a tone that one would use when encouraging a child who'd just failed at something, "You did such a good job though! It was such a good try, maybe next time baby." Makarov flushed red at the man's mocking tone, his eyes narrowing in anger. Roach seemed to take delight in the fire in his eyes. "Oh, isn't that a fun look to see." He pushed himself back up, removing the knife from Makarov's neck and twirling it in his fingers again. "Apologize, baby. C'mon, say you're sorry."

"Sorry?" Makarov hissed out, "You kidnapped me! You're crazy! I'm not-" Roach wrapped a hand around his throat, the knife pressing threteningly at his cheek. That face that had been fixed into a teasing grin was now hard and cold, watching him, daring him to continue speaking.

"Apologize," Roach said again, his voice almost scarily calm.

Makarov grit his teeth, cool shame running through his system as he bit out, "I'm sorry."

Roach closed his eyes, a small smiled crossing his lips as he tilted his head back. "Again," he ordered with a roll of his hips. Makarov gasped in response.

"I'm sorry."

That grin returned to Roach's face. The knife was removed from his skin and the hand at his throat moved up to stroke along his cheek. Roach leaned down, quickly and excitedly placing kisses all along his face before lunging down to crash their lips together again, his tongue quickly forcing its way into Makaorv's mouth to enthusiastically explore. "What a good boy," Roach muttered against his lips. Makarov tried not to shiver at the words, but with the delighted giggle that pulled from the man above him, he assumed he'd failed.

After a moment, Roach pulled back, "Lets get rid of this thing," he held up the knife, quickly twisting it in his hands before pulling back and throwing it, impaling the little piece of metal into a little dartboard hung on the wall with surprising accuracy. The thing had stuck directly in the center of the board. "Now then," Roach looked down at him, his hands drifting down his chest to slip under the edge of his shirt. He rocked his hips down on him again, pulling a choked out moan from Makarov, "I think you should show me how sorry you really are, don't you think?"

#you asked luke #gary roach sanderson #vladimir makarov #makarov x roach #call of duty fanfic #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw2 fanfic #cod

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drstonetrivia · 4 months

Text

Chapter 232 Trivia (Part 2)

(Previous part)

Spot the difference!

Chelsea can apparently rival the villager ladies in terms of strength, hauling a basket larger than she is full of rocks!

I wonder if Soyuz also polishes his head like that…

Chrome saying he wants to marry Ruri after they finish some mystery project: fair enough, means he wants to be able to focus on his wife. Chrome saying he wants to marry Ruri after they finish a time machine, which Gen says "could take millennia"...

I found Tsukasa's words here odd, since to an extent it implies that no one will be greedy or seek out power over others ever again. Given the importance of the revived scientists now, you have to wonder if the new world is a technocracy, which was exactly what Xeno wanted.

So I don't think SAL 9000's house has suddenly grown twentyfold since this looks like it's on one of the other sides of Roppongi Hills, but that doesn't make it any less incredibly huge. Why is it so big!?

With the small heels, this Senku-twin seems to also be of a similar height to actual Senku since she's slightly shorter than Gen.

Extremely simplified, what the scientists are saying is that the Medusas float by negating their mass, and petrification is the reverse effect where extra mass is given instead.

The problem? It would be against everything we currently know about physics, potentially destroying everything since atoms wouldn't act as atoms anymore. I can't speculate on whether or not this would work if it happened, because fundamentally things aren't acting as expected.

You'll also notice that the changing mass/Higgs field explanation won't answer anything about the petrification's healing properties, but I suppose this is a science-fiction story, emphasis on the fiction!

There's a biohazard symbol on the door where Senku is working, which means there's something causing a risk to human/environmental health. Since Senku isn't wearing any special PPE and the time machine doesn't work, I can only assume the risk is from the Medusa being in there!

I also think it's neat that the biohazard symbol and the Medusa are both trefoils.

This is obviously a reference to chapter 1, specifically the first two pages. The dialog is almost the same and Senku's working on a similar device.

How far they've come!

Despite being in modern clothes (and shoes!) again, Senku's is still wearing Suika's cloak 🥺

Not sure about the safety of wearing a cloak like that in a lab environment though…

I wonder if Yuzuriha made the cake toppers! They look similar to the dolls she made of herself, Taiju, and Senku.

We don't have confirmation either way, but I wonder if this project was what Senku proposed in the previous chapter to the rest of Whyman. It makes sense because time travel follows on from being able to float as the devices do, as well as from the Medusa's comment this chapter.

(If you're confused about how time travel and floating are related, it's because of E=mc². Extremely simplified again, if the Medusas can float by reducing their mass to 0, then the E=mc² equation applies differently—

—allowing objects with 0 mass to behave like light, and travel at that speed. (E=mc² is not the full equation, notice how there's no velocity component!) Once you're traveling at the speed of light… Who knows what'll happen. No one's done it before! Maybe it'll be time travel!)

Can't have a time machine without referencing the time machine from "The Time Machine" (1960) based on the book "The Time Machine" by H.G. Wells.

Since the beginning, Senku's goal has been about saving all 7 billion people. Given the number of broken statues, Senku was unlikely to be able to save everyone from the start. But with time travel, he may be able to do it, and save countless petrification devices in the process.

You're probably wondering how that's even possible when there's thousands of people who were born in stone world who would be erased from existence if the last 3,700 years didn't happen, and my answer to that is: Senku will find a way to save everyone.

(I'm also of the opinion that the time machine is meant to represent intent rather than be literal: it shows the KoS is still trying to push the boundaries of science, that Senku's desire to save everyone isn't over yet, and also time travel is usually the ultimate sci-fi goal.)

This picture of Rei doesn't make the events of the Reboot canon, Rei is only here to represent Xeno's idea of transmitting advanced technological data into the past rather than a whole person.

A quick summary of the things listed in this roadmap:

Higgs field controller: this is what the Medusas use to float/petrify, thus it's hypertech.

Helium: used for superconductors/particle accelerators since liquid helium is very good at cooling.

Superconductor & magnet: as labelled, has 0 electrical resistance. A current through a SC wire can persist indefinitely without a power source. Therefore you can have a super powerful magnet without needing to add more electricity.

Cyclotron: particle accelerator, think CERN.

Particle beam: in this case, think of the cathode ray tubes (CRT screens) on steroids.

Ion getter pump: a type of vacuum pump, for making ultra-high vacuums.

Semiconductor: used to make computer chips, much better than parametrons.

CW generator: converts low-voltage AC to high DC voltage.

Maraging steel: strong, tough steel that stretches rather than snaps.

Light-speed cyclotron motor: gives you 0 mass and allows you to reach light-speed, I assume.

(There's a few bits I skipped but I think they're fairly self-explanatory.)

A fun fact: both the first and last issues of Dr. STONE happened to be issue #14 in WSJ, which you may remember is a recurring number in the series since it can be read as "i-shi" meaning "stone".

In a similar vein, the Higgs boson (a particle related to the petrification devices' explanation) was discovered at CERN on July 4th 2012. Exactly five years later, the first volume of Dr. STONE was released in Japan.

There's a few questions left unanswered by the series, like "what did Gen tell Francois to say to Whyman in chapter 201?" and whether or not Senku's new friend took a name: Whyman? Medusa? Tamagotchi-kun? Senku Jr.? Byakuya?

End of trivia!

Don't forget that the series ending doesn't mean the fandom has to die! If you enjoyed the series, I recommend joining community servers, taking on projects like cosplays or building things, or writing your own ending!

If you're really cool, you'll help complete the wiki...

#trivia #dr stone #chapters #232

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keerysquinn · 5 months

Text

ship: Chrissy Cunningham/Steve Harrington wc: 3.4k A/N: this one was requested by my favorite person @sherifftillman <3 it was originally supposed to go up on their birthday, but I am terrible at time management. hopefully, I did our blorbos justice. also, apologies in advance for the minimal angst. I apparently can't write cheerscoops without making one of them a little sad.

“We don't have to stay long,” Eddie said as he parked his van. “I promise. As soon as I'm sold out, we can go back to my place and watch whatever movies you want. It probably won't take more than fifteen minutes.”

“It's fine,” Chrissy replied. “I don't mind being here. I knew what I signed up for when I agreed to come with you tonight. If it takes you longer than that, I'm sure I can find someone else to talk to. It is a party after all.”

“And that's why you're my best friend. You ready for this?”

“As ready as I'll ever be.”

Chrissy knew the real reason why Eddie had invited her to go to this party with him. He could say it was just because he wanted the company, but she knew the truth. He just wanted to get her out of the house and back around other people again. Ever since Jason had unceremoniously dumped her during halftime at the basketball game two weeks before, she hadn't really left the house for anything other than school. She hadn’t been feeling very social, and she knew she was starting to worry her best friend. So, even though the last thing she really wanted to be doing was attending some weird Christmas rager filled with people who witnessed her most recent humiliation, she agreed to go because it meant Eddie wouldn’t worry about her anymore.

The fact that they wouldn’t be there very long helped, too. If she had to spend the whole evening there, she wouldn’t have been able to force herself to go. She wasn't sure if she was really ready to face this crowd - the people that would either be hyping Jason up or looking at her with those horribly pitying glances that made her feel about two feet tall - but there was another reason why she didn't want to be at this house in particular: this was Steve Harrington's house.

It wasn't that she had anything against Steve. It was the opposite really. Back when she'd been a freshman, she'd fawned over him just like all of the other cheerleaders did. It had been so easy to develop a crush on him because she'd always thought that he was so out of her league. It was just a sweet little fantasy that occupied most of her daydreams.

When she started dating Jason, her crush had faded away, and she'd figured that she was completely over that fantasy. They were at the same sporting events and the same parties, she talked to him on occasion, and she didn't think she felt anything for him. But then Jason dumped her and everyone started treating her differently - except for Steve. He stopped Tommy H. from making jokes at her expense when he started up with his stupid comments at school, and he didn't look at her with the same pitying glances that everyone else gave her. He treated her just the same as he always had, and it made her realize that maybe her crush had never really gone away. It was just lying dormant and waiting for an opportunity to resurface. The fantasy was back, and she was feeling more delusional than ever. Steve would never go for a girl who'd been dumped in front of the whole town like that. She wasn't good enough for him, but it was nice to dream.

That dream was why she couldn't be at his party though. It felt too risky with her crush. Every other time she'd been to a party at his house, she'd been with Jason, so this hadn't been an issue. Now, she didn't know how to act.

As Eddie ushered her into the house, she scanned the crowd in front of her. It wasn't hard to find Steve in the midst of it all. He stood out on a normal day. For this party, however, he was wearing one of those sleazy Santa hats that had mistletoe on the end, and Chrissy hated how that wasn’t a turn off for her. As she watched Rachel P. make her way over to Steve and point at the mistletoe on his hat before reaching up to give him a kiss, Chrissy couldn’t help but think she wouldn’t mind getting to have that same opportunity herself. She’d never be bold enough to go up to him on her own though, and she certainly wasn’t bold enough to say whatever it was that Rachel P. whispered in Steve’s ear after their kiss that made his eyes go wide before shaking it off and adopting his signature confident smirk again. She was content to keep her distance and avoid any and all potential humiliation that would undoubtedly come from her being anywhere near him.

But she was hanging out with Eddie that night, so she should have known that he was going to unintentionally put her face to face with the guy she was trying her hardest to avoid. She loved her best friend more than anything, but he was oblivious to the chaos he caused her. Sometimes it was through more over the top means, but tonight it was via the simple action of calling for Steve’s attention. He acknowledged Eddie with a slight nod before saying something to Rachel P. and abandoning her to head their way.

Chrissy started panicking almost immediately. He was going to be standing in front of her wearing that ridiculous hat, and she'd have to find a way to kiss him without being awkward about it. Of course, there was always the chance that Eddie would jump in and kiss Steve to mess with him. Or worse, he could push Chrissy forward and urge her to kiss him and make a big deal out of it. She felt like she was going to be sick.

But then something that she hadn't anticipated happened, and it was maybe even worse than anything she had imagined. As Steve got closer to them, he noticed Chrissy was with Eddie for the first time, and he stopped dead in his tracks. He recovered after a moment, and as he started walking towards them again, he pulled the hat off of his head and ran a hand through his hair. That settled it then. He didn't want to kiss her at all, so he was taking away any chance that it would happen. Even though she'd been panicking about it, she'd be lying if she said that didn't sting.

“What? No kisses for me?” Eddie asked. “I'm wounded.”

“I'm sure you'll survive,” Steve told him before turning his attention back towards Chrissy. “I didn't know you were coming.”

“That's because I forced her out of the house. We're just staying until I sell out, and then it's a night of debauchery.”

Eddie threw an arm around Chrissy's shoulders and wiggled his eyebrows, and she turned bright pink before slapping his chest.

“He's kidding,” she insisted. “We're going to watch Christmas movies and probably end up annoying his uncle.”

“I think he'll be charmed by our antics and just how often I plan on pausing the movies to add in my own scenes. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have party favors to hand out.”

Eddie gave an exaggerated bow before heading into the party, leaving Chrissy standing there awkwardly with Steve. She didn't know what to say to him, and he didn't appear to have anything to say to her, so she was standing there wishing that the ground would just open up and swallow her when Heather Holloway appeared and threw her arms around her in a bone crushing hug. Whatever was in the cup that she was holding sloshed, and a little bit dribbled on the floor.

“You came!” she said as she pulled away from Chrissy. “You said you weren't feeling up for a party, but you came!”

“I did.”

Heather was clearly more than a little buzzed already, and Chrissy watched as she turned her attention towards Steve.

“Stevie. Would you mind terribly if I stole Chrissy for a minute?” she asked. “I can never get her to go to parties anymore, so I need to go get her a drink or seven to make up for lost time, okay?”

“She's all yours,” he replied. “Don't get too crazy.”

“Me? Never.”

Heather grabbed Chrissy's hand and started to pull her towards the kitchen, but as Chrissy glanced back at Steve, she noticed that he put that stupid hat back on the second he wasn't looking at her anymore, and she felt that same sting from before again.

“Can I just say that Jason is a rat?” Heather said. “A stinky garbage rat. The lowest of the low. He was never worthy of you, and you can do so much better than him anyway.”

“Thanks.”

Jason was the absolute last person Chrissy wanted to be discussing right now. Tonight was supposed to get her mind off of everything, and already she was feeling awful. She knew Eddie had meant well by bringing her here, but she needed to not be around these people.

“I'll be right back,” she told Heather. “I need to find the restroom.”

“Use the one upstairs. The one down here is probably super grody by now.”

Chrissy made her way upstairs and easily found the master bathroom. Luckily, no one was in there already, so she was able to lock herself inside and take a moment alone. She took a few deep breaths as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. She could do this. She could be at this party and act normal and pretend she wasn't hurt by what Jason did to her and how Steve had clearly been repulsed by the idea of kissing her. She had to handle this. Just a little while longer, and then Eddie would be ready to leave. She could make it that long. She knew she could.

She exited the bathroom and started to make her way back downstairs. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Eddie leaning against a wall and flirting with Nancy Wheeler. He was trying to look cool, but Chrissy could tell that he was freaking out on the inside. This was a new development, and while she was happy for whatever was happening with her best friend, she had a feeling that she was going to be staying at this party a lot longer than she originally intended.

She would just have to make small talk with people and try to handle being there the best she could. Maybe if she stuck by Heather, she could get away with not doing any talking at all, and she could just let her friend talk at her for a while. However, that plan was ruined when she walked back into the kitchen and found Heather making out with Jason. He had her sitting up on the counter, and he was standing between her legs with her hanging all over him. So much for him being the lowest of the low.

Chrissy turned on her heel and ran out of the room knowing Heather wouldn’t have seen her. She was too invested in Jason’s tongue to notice her hurt friend or care if she did. She couldn’t grab Eddie and make him leave. She didn’t want to be a burden on him, so she tried to go hide in the bathroom again. This time, the door was locked, so she ducked into the first unlocked room she could find.

After locking herself in said room, she sat down on the edge of the bed and willed herself not to cry. She wouldn’t give Jason the satisfaction of knowing he still had the power to hurt her. She couldn’t. She just needed to stay isolated from the rest of the party until it was time to leave. Eddie would come find her soon enough, and she could put this whole stupid night behind her.

She was only alone for maybe five minutes before someone tried to open the door. When they realized it was locked, they pounded on the door.

“Hey!” a voice called through the door. “No one is supposed to be up here!”

Chrissy got up from the bed and opened the door to find Steve standing there. Once again, as soon as he saw it was her, he pulled that stupid hat off of his head and held it behind his back. This was the last thing she needed, and she could feel herself crumbling from the inside out. She had to get out of that party, and she had to get out now.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know. I’ll just leave.”

Her voice cracked as she spoke, and she moved to exit the room, but Steve was blocking her path.

“Were you in there by yourself?” he asked. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes, and she didn’t want to cry in front of Steve. She didn’t need to add on to the humiliation she was already feeling. She tried to push past him, but he moved to stop her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Wait. If you need to be alone up here for a while, you can stay. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. Or I can go get your boyfriend for you if you don’t want to be alone.”

Chrissy let out a dry laugh.

“What boyfriend?” she asked. “Jason dumped me two weeks ago. You were there. Don’t you remember?”

“What? I wasn’t talking about that jackass. I meant Eddie.”

“You think Eddie and I are dating?”

“Well, yeah. Aren’t you?”

Chrissy was silent for a moment before doubling over from the force of her laughter. She moved back to sit on the edge of the bed as a way to steady herself because even in this laughing fit, she knew she didn’t want to fall to the floor in front of Steve.

“I’m so sorry,” she said once she’d calmed herself down enough to speak. “I’m not laughing at you. I promise. It’s just that the idea of me dating Eddie is the most ridiculous thing to me.”

“So, he’s not your boyfriend?” Steve asked. He moved to sit down next to her, and he set the hat on the bed in between them as he did.

“I certainly hope not considering the fact that last time I saw him he was very clearly flirting with another girl. He’s just my best friend, and he lacks all sense of personal boundaries when it comes to the people he’s closest with. I guess I can understand why someone would think we’re dating, all things considered. It’s just that kissing him would be the same as kissing my little brother.”

She scrunched up her nose in disgust before wiping the tears of mirth from her eyes.

“Thanks for that though. I really needed that laugh.”

“Glad I could be of service,” he told her. “Can I ask what had you upset enough to lock yourself in my bedroom in the first place?”

“It’s stupid,” she told him. “I saw someone who I thought was my friend making out with Jason. Which is fine. He’s allowed to do whatever he wants. We’re not together anymore, so it shouldn’t have had this effect on me. It’s just that he chose Heather, and she let him choose her after just telling me what a piece of shit she thought he was. But it’s fine. I just didn’t want to be forced to see it, and I didn’t have anyone else to talk to, so I came up here to get away from everything until Eddie was ready to leave. It’s easier that way.”

“Do you want me to kick him out? Because I can make him leave if you want.”

“He’s not worth the effort. I’m already ruining your party enough by keeping you away from your guests. I don’t need you to make a scene on my behalf.”

“I could spit in his eggnog then. Or accidentally spill some punch on him. Maybe trip him or something? Whatever I can do to help you get back at him.”

“It’s fine. Really.” She let out a tiny giggle. “Technically, he didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I’d say he did plenty wrong if you asked me.”

“How do you figure?”

“I mean, setting aside him making out with your friend, the way he treated you at that basketball game was one of the worst things I’ve ever witnessed. He was needlessly cruel, and you deserved better. Frankly, I don’t think he treated you very well while he was dating you either, but that’s a whole other thing entirely. You always seemed too nice to be with a guy like him, and he didn’t appreciate you enough.”

“Maybe that’s just your opinion.”

“Well, it should be everybody’s opinion. I bet there are loads of guys in this school who would realize that you're the best thing that's ever happened to them.”

“You're sweet, but I'm not that special.”

“Not that special? Chrissy, you're -”

Steve paused for a moment and ran a hand through his hair.

“I remember this one day from back around when we first met. A bunch of the cheerleaders and the guys from the team were hanging out outside the gym. Barb Holland was walking past on her way to her next class, and she tripped and absolutely ate it in front of everyone. Jason went to make some stupid comment, but you scolded him and told him to shut up before getting down on the ground to check if she was okay and help her gather her things. I'd already thought you were cute before that, but I think that's when I started to have a crush on you. I never said anything, and then you started dating Jason a week later, so I figured I'd missed my shot and kept quiet. Anyway, my point is that you are special. Anyone who doesn't see that is kidding themselves.”

Chrissy smiled, but avoided looking at Steve to hide the fact that she was certain she was blushing.

“So, you have a crush on me?” she asked.

“I kind of let that slip there, didn't I?”

“Yeah. You did.”

His admission only confused her though. If he liked her, he should have wanted to kiss her, and yet he took that hat off every single time he saw her. It didn't add up.

“Can I ask you something?”

Steve nodded.

“If you're really into me, why'd you take the hat off? Why eliminate the perfect opportunity to act on your feelings in a non-obvious way?”

“A couple reasons. First, up until about five minutes ago, I thought you'd just started dating Eddie, and I didn't want to kiss another guy's girlfriend. Second, the hat wasn't even my idea. It was Tommy's. He gave me this line to use about how it's bad luck if you don't get a kiss when you're standing under the mistletoe, and said it works every time, but I kind of hate wearing the thing. And maybe most importantly, I didn't want you to feel obligated to kiss me. The whole idea of it made me feel gross. If you kissed me, I wanted it to be your choice.”

The sting from earlier had vanished completely and was replaced by a swarm of butterflies that were making her heart flutter. She wanted to be cool about this, but she didn't know if she could be. She had to try though, so she grabbed the hat and pulled it into her lap.

“You know, I kind of have a crush on you, too,” she told him.

“You do?”

“Mmhmm. And I would have welcomed the opportunity to kiss you even if it came with Tommy's admittedly terrible line.”

“Duly noted.”

She picked the hat up and placed it on her head.

“Well, would you look at that,” she said as she pointed at it. “I think that's mistletoe.”

“I think you might be right.”

“You know, I heard it's bad luck if you don't get kissed when you're underneath the mistletoe.”

“I think I've heard that somewhere.”

“You wouldn't want me to have bad luck now, would you?”

“That sure would be terrible.”

“So, what do you say, Steve? Wanna help me make sure I don't have any bad luck?”

“Please.”

With that, Steve leaned in, and Chrissy pulled him closer for the first of many kisses.

Later on, when Eddie was finally ready to leave the party, he felt terrible for how long he'd ended up leaving Chrissy on her own. But, when he found her sitting on the sofa, snuggled up to Steve and looking happier than he'd seen her in months, any trace of guilt vanished away.

#ctcwc23 #cheerscoops #steve harrington #chrissy cunningham #cheerscoops fic #my writing

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floralcyanide · 2 years

Text

The Extra || Austin Butler x OC

Chapter Three

Pairing: Austin Butler x OC

Warnings: language, Richard plays Vernon, Helen plays Gladys, and Kodi plays Jimmie.

Word Count: 2396

>> chapter three is finally here! thanks for all the support for this series <3 I appreciate it. keep letting me know if you're enjoying it, it helps me with inspiration (:

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Add yourself to the taglist HERE

February 2020

Everyone is buzzing about the Lousiana Hayride scene. It was far more intimate than the Trouble scene since significantly fewer extras are crowded together. Instead of hundreds of extras, there's way less for this scene specifically. It's not as overwhelming and loud, much to my relief. The only downside is I have to wear a wig from now on as an extra just so it isn't apparent that I'm the same person in different scenes. I'm sitting in the stylist's chair, waiting for the wig glue to dry. I'm on my phone texting Tyler when a notification pops up. My eyes widen in horror at the old contact name.

Austin <3

I immediately lock my phone and ignore the message. A few moments later, another message appears on the screen. I reluctantly check what they say because the notification will bother me if I don't.

Hey, is this still Roman's number?

If not, I apologize for bothering you.

I sigh, deciding to respond because it'll say I read the messages anyway.

Who is this?

Immediately, I see the typing bubble. I start chewing my lip nervously.

Is this Roman?

As much as I don't want to respond, I do reluctantly. I should really turn read receipts off.

Yes. Again, who is this?

It's Austin. I wanted to make sure I still had your number, just in case.

I scan the room to see if I can spot him anywhere, but no luck. I don't respond to his message and continue scrolling through Instagram. Not long after I begin reading a lengthy caption from someone's spam account, another message pops up.

That's okay, right?

Yes, but I don't recall giving you my number.

Are you still acting like you don't remember me? We literally spent five years together.

"Wig feeling tight yet?" my stylist asks from behind me, and I hurry to put my phone away.

"Yeah, it is," I say, even though I'm not entirely sure if it is. I just didn't want my stylist to possibly see my phone screen.

"You should be all set, then."

I get up from the chair and smooth out my skirt and blouse, looking in the mirror to ensure everything is neat. I look like a different person almost entirely. The wig is a different color from my natural one and is lightly curled. A few ringlets fall along my face and I look like I walked straight out of the 50s.

I leave my phone with my things at the vanity, heading over to the set in the next building where the stage is. On some of the chairs, there are markers where the girls who will be screaming are to sit. One of them is for me about halfway into the crowd, where I have a fantastic view of the stage. I take a seat as other extras begin to pour into the room. The stage is set up, so now all we have to do is wait for Kodi to appear with other extras to begin filming.

Baz comes onto the set and settles into his chair, "Places, everyone!"

All the extras settle into their respective places along with Richard and Helen, who aren't far behind you in the crowd. The set falls silent, awaiting Baz's call.

"Action!"

Kodi comes barreling on stage with the other extras, playing their instruments as everyone claps along to his song. He sings and plays briefly before Baz calls, "Cut!"

"I need everyone's claps to be more enthusiastic and on time with each other. Act like you're at a real hayride!" Baz says, "And, action!"

Kodi returns to the stage from his place behind the curtain as animated as ever, waving before strumming his guitar as everyone claps along better this time. His performance comes to a close and everyone ceases clapping to await Austin to take his place on the stage next. The radio host announces him, and he walks onto the stage nervously. Austin stands close to the microphone, mumbling his lines into it as the crowd remains dead silent. He begins to sing, and the microphone echoes feedback as hair falls into his face.

"Get a haircut, buttercup!" one extra yells from his spot up front, and everyone laughs on cue.

Austin takes a moment to gather his character before starting to sing, "Well, you may go to college, you may go to school," he strums his guitar, beginning to wiggle his hips, "You may have a pink Cadillac but don't you be nobody's fool."

As he wiggles more, an extra from the front stands up and squeals. Apparently, it wasn't real sounding enough because Baz makes us start the performance scene again. Thankfully, not from the beginning but after the buttercup comment is made. So Austin begins to sing again, wiggling his hips as he plays the guitar. The extras squeal again, this time doing better as Baz makes no comment. Austin continues with the scene, being almost comical with moving his hips for the crowd to become antsy. It's my turn to let out a noise now. I stand up and shriek, grabbing at my face dramatically as my eyes grow large at the movements Austin is portraying. He makes eye contact with me, a smirk that was already on his face growing at the sound of my shriek. Continuing with the scene, Austin does a spectacular job of riling everyone to believable energy in the crowd. Girls gather at the stage and rip his blazer off. I stifle a laugh, still ogling at him for the camera. Helen hurries to the stage, citing her line. Baz doesn't think she does it justice and makes us retake a few times until she gets it dramatic enough. Finally, her cry about the girls trying to kill her son goes perfectly. Austin disappears behind the curtain, readjusting his guitar across his chest.

"Cut! That was fantastic," Baz applauds after watching the final shot, "That's good for that scene for now."

I can’t deny that Austin is talented and has become even more so since we broke up. When we were together, he hadn’t played any significant roles except The Shannara Chronicles. After we split, Austin played in Once Upon A Time In Hollywood, which I thought was impressive. But playing Elvis is far more impressive in my book, especially since he can channel his character and personality very well. His performances in the Trouble and the Louisiana Hayride scenes were impeccable. I’m proud of him, even though I still feel an odd emotion towards him that I can’t quite put my finger on.

After today's filming, I don't need to come back for a week or so while other scenes without extras are being filmed. There's no use for me there other than to watch the filming. I stop by every few days and hang out with Dacre, Luke, and Olivia in Luke's trailer when they aren't filming or are practicing their lines. Sometimes Tom will even come in and say hi when he isn’t filming. Tyler has also hung out with us a few times, like today. Tyler has only been an extra for a few years, so he's sometimes still a little starstruck by Tom. However, Tyler already knows Dacre because he was an extra on Stranger Things. So both will talk about how fun the show was to film and the details of behind-the-scenes. I'm nearing the end of my week and a half long break, much to my relief. As much as I love hearing the story about how Tyler "accidentally" tripped and fell into Joe Keery's arms, I'm excited to go back to work. Hopefully, I'll be back to being an extra next week. I haven't had much to do except hang out on set or clean my apartment out of sheer boredom.

I'm lounging on the couch in Luke's trailer while reading the script. I'll read some of Austin's lines while Olivia replies with her lines. Here and there, I'll suggest a change of tone, among other things.

"Have you ever played a role before?" Olivia questions, an eyebrow raised.

"I have been in several musicals as a teenager and young adult, but nothing too serious," I shrug, "Why?"

"You have really good suggestions, almost like you've done this before," she says.

"Well, I-" I begin to say that I have practiced with someone before, many times. But I stop myself because no one is supposed to know that I know them.

Olivia looks at me expectantly, so I come up with something quickly.

"I've just helped a lot of co-stars practice, is all. I've been in a lot of productions, so…" I trail off.

Olivia nods, taking the bait, "Good point. But you're good at it. Since you write, you can possibly try to write scripts maybe?"

I make a face in agreement, "I never thought of that."

There's a knock on the door before one of us can say anything else, and Luke gets up from his position at the dining table to answer it.

"Delivery for Roman Todd," someone says at the door.

Luke struggles to get in whatever was handed to him, and Tyler gets up to help him.

"God, who hurt you?" Tyler laughs from the front of the trailer.

"What are you talking about?" I shake my head, shouting so he could hear me over the sound of rustling.

Tyler and Luke bust through the trailer with a large bouquet of flowers and an Elvis teddy bear.

Luke grabs the card that is sticking up from the dozens of roses, "'To Roman, please forgive me? Happy Valentine's Day.'"

"Who could've sent you this?" Olivia gasps, standing up from the couch and grabbing the bear to inspect it.

"I'm actually not sure," I furrowed my eyebrows, still sitting on the couch in confusion.

"Well, whoever it is definitely wants to be forgiven," Tyler chuckles, sitting the bouquet on the dining table. It takes up almost all of the space on the tiny table.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and a message from Austin is on the lock screen.

I hope you like the roses.

I immediately facepalm my forehead, "Dammit."

"Is everything okay?" Olivia asks, handing the bear to me.

I take the red bear, inspecting it with a sigh, "Yeah. I think I know who sent this to me."

"An ex-boyfriend, maybe?" Tyler asks as he plops back down in the dining area, his face almost entirely covered by roses.

I glare at him warningly, "I think so."

"If my boyfriend sent me this, I'd forgive him. I'd kiss his feet," Tyler raises his eyebrows, whistling at the sheer size of the bouquet.

"There will be no feet kissing, okay?" I finally get up from the couch, leaving the script behind, "I'm gonna talk to him about this if you'll excuse me."

Luke, Tyler, and Olivia watch silently as I storm out of the trailer, pressing the call button by Austin's name. Frustrated, I pace outside the trailer while waiting for Austin to pick up the phone.

"This is Austin Butler. Sorry I couldn't make it to the phone-"

I hang up, visibly annoyed, and go to look around for his trailer nearby. I hope it's somewhere close to Luke's because I don't even feel like talking to Austin, much less look for his trailer all day. And it's not like I can ask anyone where it is because that would be suspicious. After 20 minutes of aimlessly walking around, I finally spot him leaving the set. I watch as he walks to his trailer, and I follow him. I wait until he goes inside before knocking on the door.

"Who is it?" Austin shouts from inside.

"It's Roman," I say defeatedly.

He pulls the door open, revealing his shirtless torso and eyeliner-smudged eyes.

"Did you get the roses?" he asks, and I begin walking up the steps and push past him before he shuts the door behind me.

"Austin," I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose, "I forgave you a long time ago, okay?"

"Ah, so you do remember me," Austin smirks, "You really should be an actress, Roman."

I roll my eyes and cross my arms across my chest, "Look. Again, I forgave you a long time ago. I'm doing great things with my career, whether you find it exciting or not. I mean, damn, look where I am right now! I'm buddies with Tom Hanks, Austin! Dacre Montgomery has my phone number. Would just an extra ever be able to say that?"

Austin sighs, "I didn't mean that when I said it to you. You're more than just an extra, not to just me, but everyone else. You don't have to be friends with Tom just to prove that to me."

"Yeah, but you still said it. It still bounces around in my head. I'll forgive, but I'll never forget," I say, shoving my hands in my pockets.

An awkward silence falls between the both of us.

"I still am sorry," Austin says, tilting my chin up with his hand, "Can you stop acting like you don't know who I am, though?"

I move my face from his hand, "I would, but everyone is convinced I don't know you. Plus, it's been a year. A lot can change in a year about someone. So let's just get to know each other again."

Austin nods, not looking at me, "I agree. A lot can change in a year. You certainly have."

I allow my eyes to travel up and down his body for a second before focusing on his face, "You're right. I have, but it was to be a better person and a better performer."

"Does lying make a person better, Roman?" Austin finally looks at me, pressing his lips together in a line.

"No, but putting someone down for something you don't agree with doesn't either," I say, spinning on my heel to leave.

Before I can make it out of the door, Austin grabs my wrist.

"I forgive you, okay?" I turn my head to look at him, "It's done. Let's be friends and pretend we don't know each other for our sakes."

I don't give him a chance to respond before I leave his trailer.

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zoeykallus · 2 years

Text

Inexperienced Crosshair x Experienced Fem!Reader - Thanks For The Lesson 2 - The Truth

Warnings: Possible Hurt / Tension

_____________

After some people asked for a sequel and the request for just that landed both in the comments, my private messages and meanwhile also in the asks. I have now taken pity :P It will probably be a short story… I guess. A few chapters. It's a short chapter, but there will be more.

_____________

After the last awkward moment just after you slept together, you try to find out how Crosshair really feels about you. This turns out to be more difficult than you thought.

_____________

What Happened Before:

Part 1

________

His heart is beating way too fast. Crosshair is nervous. He may have finally played it cool, but he's shown weakness to you, made himself vulnerable.

"Crosshair?"

Your voice almost makes him jump out of his skin in surprise, but somehow he manages to stay cool on the outside. He's just glad he's wearing his helmet and you can't see his face. He sits in the pilot's chair of the shuttle, arms folded in front of his chest.

"Huh?"

You come into his field of vision. By now you've put your clothes back on, the helmet of your Beskar armor under your right arm.

"You know, I originally thought this was just a fling. That thing between us."

"So?" he asks, grumbling.

You shrug and say, "After what just happened, I think you had other ideas."

Crosshair is silent. He doesn't really know what to say to that. Silence reigns for quite a while, but you don't give up on the matter so quickly. No matter how stubborn Crosshair might be, you wanted certainty.

"Do you have feelings for me?"

The question catches him cold. Even though you can't see his face at the moment, you can see him tensing up, pulling his shoulders up a bit, almost as if he's trying to duck. It takes a few seconds too long for him to answer.

"No, I do not"

"You're lying."

His head whips around to face you.

He growls, "What do you want from me?!"

Perfectly calm you say, "That you tell me the truth."

"I did," he snaps back.

You sigh tiredly, annoyed by his stubbornness. Normally, you don't exactly wear your feelings on your sleeve. It's not proper for a Mandalorian, you weren't raised that way. But right now you wanted to open up to him, among other things to encourage him to do the same.

"You know, I just saw this as a fling to protect myself. I've had certain feelings for you for a while, been attracted to you. I assumed you didn't want anything serious, that's why I acted the way I did."

Crosshair looks at you, even though you can't see his eyes, you can feel his gaze very clearly.

You don't know why, but he reacts harshly and defiantly.

"I was just curious to fuck you, since it was my first I didn't quite know how to behave afterwards, that's all it was" he growls, shaking his head and leaning back in his chair.

These words hurt much more than you would ever admit. But you're not wearing your helmet right now, and apparently it shows, because his posture changes and you can see from his body language that he regrets his words to some degree.

You hastily put on your helmet before he can see more of your reaction.

"Good to know," you finally say tonelessly from under your helmet, "sorry I asked."

"Wait, that's not how I-"

He interrupts himself and turns to look at you as you stand up to leave the cockpit.

"Wait a minute. Where are you going now?" he asks uncertainly.

"To see if we got everyone. You can wait here."

Crosshair says, "Hey wait. You don't think I'm going to let you run around alone in enemy territory!"

"Do what you want. I'm a Mandalorian, I don't need you, even in hostile territory."

He looks after you.

"Shit!" he curses and kicks the console.

Sparks pop and an unpleasant crackling sound is heard.

"Fuck! Not again! Tech's gonna kill me..."

Crosshair sees movement through the cockpit window. He sees you walk up a hill near the landing pad and disappear from his view. He has to go after you. Better safe than sorry. He knows you can take care of yourself, but he still wants to be sure nothing happens to you and you don't do anything stupid.

He doesn't know why he couldn't just admit his feelings like you did. His heart had leapt and he felt euphoric when you told him that you had feelings for him. But he had automatically reacted negatively to that. Right now he hates himself for it.

He sends a hasty radio message to the Marauder, asking them to pick him up. As reason he states ''technical'' problems. He keeps the fact that he has damaged the console to himself for the time being, Tech could lecture him soon enough. Hastily he grabbed his rifle, left the shuttle and followed you.

Hunter mutters, "Crosshair wants to be picked up".

"What?" asks Tech alert " Did he damage my shuttle again?"

Hunter shrugs, "I don't know, he said something about technical difficulties"

Tech sighs deeply, tired, annoyed and irritated.

"He sure as hell broke something again, he always does when he has the shuttle"

"He sounded a little rushed somehow. Maybe we should fly right out and see what's going on," Hunter notes.

Echo nods at him.

"Our Mando and he sure do like to get into trouble," he says with a wry smile "Wouldn't surprise me if they need help."

Crosshair stands on the hill and looks around, he sees you on the other side at the bottom of the hill. You're roaming along a riverbank, just kicking a rock in front of you. He stands up there for a while, watching you. He doesn't know what to say to you when he reaches you. Maybe he should wait and see. Up here he can keep an eye on you and the terrain and think in peace about how he was going to tackle this thing.

He felt insecure and angry, about himself, about his feelings and especially about the fact that he had obviously hurt you. For a Mando, you were pretty sensitive, he thought. But Mandalorians were only living beings.

You suddenly looked around and your eyes finally wandered up the hill to him. Unsure what to do, he gave you a curt wave, a bit like a salute. In response, he got to see your middle fingers, both of them.

Crosshair sighed.

"Great. Right after I sleep with my dream girl, I make her so mad she wants to wring my neck. Well, you have to be good at something. Pissing people off is one of my specialties," he mutters to himself.

You stop abruptly and look back up at him. He wonders what's going on, but figures it out right away.

Suddenly he hears your voice in his helmet, "Crosshair, the comm is open. I can hear you."

His heart almost stops.

"Oh"

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

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corpsedog · 30 days

Text

crazy morning Kieran nation

so basically my stepmother was being my stepmother, she wanted me to wear this SPECIFIC shirt that's very floral and lacy and girly, which I obviously didn't wear because that's not my style, and BOY was she MAD about it. I wore a black shirt w black and red eyeshadow and black pants. my regular fit y'know. she fucking harassed me all morning trying to get me to wear that fucking shirt but I had no clue where it was, I literally looked all over for it because I was going to put it on then switch clothes at the last minute, but I literally just could not find it to which she replied "I don't care, you're putting it on and I'm tearing up all this black shit" and I didn't give in or anything, just kept wearing it, n she went off to do morning stuff.

just when I thought I was in the clear, she comes back and sees I'm still wearing my awesome fit. I was literally doing the finishing touches on my makeup when she decided to rummage through my closet and take out all of my black clothes and demanded that I take off my shirt, while insulting me and berating me, saying shit like "you're not goth and youre not a boy" n blah blah blah. she tore my makeup out of my hand and ran off with it, so I went and followed her to try to get it back from her. she fucking grabbed me by my face and started digging her fingers into my eyes to rub my eyeshadow off and I tore my head back out of her hands and she got PISSED and grabbed me by the hair, tore my head back, and punched me in the face. she stormed off with my makeup back to her room and I went back there to go get it, but she kept moving around and putting it out of reach, so I simply walked behind her and stuck my arm in the gap between her and the wall to get it. she would NOT give that shit back to me so I stormed out and just put on my black nail polish instead of the red that she stole. she said "you didn't buy this" and I literally DID with my own money.

she comes back to my room and THROWS the shit at me and is bitching around how "you're not going to defy me" "you're not a boy" "you're not goth you're just stupid" "who is influencing you to defy me" etc etc and she left, defeated

the BEST part of this is how she said "you're not gonna fucking come at me"

i said "I didn't even touch you, I went around you to get my shit" and she said "you came at me, it was aggressive" IT WAS NOT AGGRESSIVE AT ALL??? I LITERALLY WENT AROUND HER TO AVOID BEING AGGRESSIVE BECAUSE UNLIKE HER I DONT HAVE THE MATURITY OF AN 11 YEAR OLD AND I DONT WANT TO FIGHT??? but she claimed I was being aggressive and defying her rules and whatever the fuck but I got my makeup back and yes I'm wearing the fit and all in all I won. which I've never really done before

my voice was shaking and I was very nervous but I didn't give in to the bitch this time, I told her I wasn't going to be treated like a child but expected to act like an adult and she knew I was making her look like an ass so she decided to get physical with me. it feels so good to be dominant about myself and say "no, I'm not going to do this. I'm an 18 year old adult and I'm not playing dress up games with you."

im a bit scared to really actually defend myself properly though because when she puts her hands on me she gets really aggressive and busts my lip open a lot, I even have permanent bruising from things shes done to me and I don't think I can get in trouble for defending myself from that but if I do decide to fight back she could and would just kick me out of the house again and I don't have anywhere to go or anything so I'd just be putting myself and my family in danger by fighting back. but it feels so good to get a little sample of "no." y'know what I mean

also, might as well add what she said to me 2 or 3 days ago 🥴 for context there's this guy we know who apparently punished a 3 year old kid who isnt his by pissing in his drink and slapping his dick across the kids face, and when my stepmutha told me this my mouth went slack and just hung open and y'know how sometimes you hear something that so deeply horrifies you all you know how to do is just smile? well yeah I was extremely disturbed by hearing that (as I'm sure you are by reading that) and my lips kind of went up on their own and I tried to make them stop but I couldn't. anyway my stepmother says "I know you think thats funny, I can tell because of the look on your face. you probably want to get a dick put on you so that you can put it on a little kid, you sick fuck"

i ❤ being trans and being equated to a pedophile !!!!!!

anyway I was so extremely offended by that statement (being trans and also a csa survivor) that I just screamed "WHAT???" and she laughed and I fucking went to my room n just sat in there for a while totally not triggered and having flashbacks on my bed :D

so how was your guys' morning

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slashingdisneypasta · 6 months

Text

SecretLover!Prof. Aaron Callahan x Fem!AFAB!Reader || Smutshot

Plot: At a Harvard Halloween event (For both Staff and Students), you and Callahan can't stay away from eachother. *Could be considered a Part 2 to This Fic.*

Warnings: Smut. Age difference, student/teacher, unprotected, bathroom tryst, hate/love relationship references, possibly more.

"Where can we go?" His voice was low, husky and full of lust. It made you want to kiss him again.

But- "Hmmm," After worrying your lip for a moment, you remember the small one-person bathroom you fixed your make-up in earlier, it was surprisingly clean. Dropping your lip, you curl a hand around his forearm and tug him. "I know. Come on."

For once he did not argue with you, just nodded and followed where you took him.

It was the costume. It had to be. Your valentines goddess costume, which was tasteful... though, admittedly, borderline for an event catering for students and staff. That was what made Callahan approach you and stick by you- showing you attention at the event that usually neither of you allow when you're in public. You never want anyone to know what your real relationship with the professor is behind closed doors and he doesn't want to get fired (You may not be his student, but you are still a Harvard student and it is innapropriate what you're doing. He's lawyer; he knows rules.).

But on this neither of you could help it. He's an asshole, so usually you can quite easily ignore him, but... its Halloween. And you're high off the party buzz. And he's acting so nice-

Because of your costume.

Most of the night he was just sitting next to you and you were talking (You always new he was smart, but you didn't know that could be a good thing. An interesting thing. An appealing thing), joking with eachother (He could be funny??? Since when???), almost having fun together-- which is completely new. Then, his hand slipped onto your thigh after your friends left you, and you didn't brush him off like you're supposed to-

And when you both wandered slowly, at some point, to a dark corner and you kissed him there- it became apparent where this mysterious flook of getting along so well, of genuinly liking eachother, was heading.

Now in the bathroom, Callahan leans you up against the clicked shut door swiftly and seals your lips together once again. You part your lips for him immediately, you both know what this is, and let slip an awfully needy moan for him.

Much to your dismay Callahan pulls back and smirks at you, that smug and obnoxious look on his face for once not infuriating you. Just frustrating you- because you want him. You want him now. "Take a look in the mirror, Y/N, that pretty make-up isn't going to be so pretty when I'm done with you~ "

"Oh?? Hurry up and prove it. Make me cry like one of your law students, yeah?" You snap back, though with about half the same snippiness that you usually would; instead adopting a genuinly mischievous grin.

With a grin back and a hungry growl, Callahan presses his mouth back to yours and runs his hands down your body to the pretty red shorts you've got on. Your own hands immediately trail down his chest to the button and zipper on his pants, undoing them as fast as you can; a feverish need in your every desperate movement.

While you continue to snog eachother, Callahans thumbs slip under both, the waistbands of your shiny red shorts and your underwear beneath, on either side of your hips, and slips them down your thighs. You help him wriggle out of them and kick them to somewhere else in the small, cramped room and then slip your own hand into the front of his pants- feeling his bulge through his high-quality underwear; something you always like about him. Unlike guys your age, Callahan at least always wears clean boxers. Clean shirts. In general, he's always dressed nicely. And you appreciate it now still even though you're appreciating more about him all of a sudden, as well.

Another growl flies from his lips and into your mouth feeling your fingers on his cock.

"Mmm, do that again... "

"Uh uh, we are not playing around here tonight- You gotta fuck me." You shake your head, but massage his cock for another moment, loving the feel of him throbbing beneath your fingers and anticipating squeezing it in your walls with lip bite.

He hangs his head back on his neck, enjoying the pleasure you're giving him, before you take him out of his boxers and line him up with your entrance; stepping your feet apart slightly to make more room for him between your thighs. While you chew your bottom lip, Callahan takes the reigns and has one hand on your waist and one flat on the door by your head as he pushes into you, making you drop your lip from your teeth and your head against the door. "Aghhh... "

It's like you've never had him stretching you out before, it feels so ridiculously good. You roll your hips forward into his, slouching slightly against the door and letting your eyelids fall closed; just enjoying the feeling of him rubbing against your clit. You forgot where you even are.

"Sweetheart, I thought we were not playing around, tonight~... "

"Oh shut up... " You whine, giving a lop-sided smirk as you crack your eyes open again. Then, curling a hand around the back of his neck, you lean in and kiss him again; kicking off the bathroom fuck.

He's not as young as other guys you've fucked so he can't piston into you like they could before him but his thrusts are fluid and strong, making you a desperate mess on the door- holding him against you to keep his mouth on yours. Your tongues fight against each other languidly but passionately, while your fingers slide down his chest and to the sides of his decidedly un-spooky blazer (the only sign that he knew it was Halloween at all being the tiny orange pumpkin at the bottom of his black tie- you had to sesrch closesly find it. And you were, earlier.), using the material to hold him against you.

With every smooth and perfect stroke of his cock within your tight walls you become more and more undone. And so does he, starting to pant heavily and having to stop kissing you so he can breath and lean his arm against the door behind you. Your foreheads press together and your eyes flicker across his focused-face, thinking for a second that you really like this man, before letting your eyes flutter shut again feeling your orgasm so fast approaching.

You're moaning so loud you're sure anyone walking outside the little bathroom knows exactly what is happening inside it, but so long as they only hear you, and they don't hear who you're with, it's okay. You decide, its okay. You couldn't help it if you decided different, anyway. It feels too good!-

When finally you cum, squeezing his cock tighter then ever and gushing around him with a particularly naughty moan, Callahan pushes himself all the way in once again - as deep as he can go, deeper then ever, - just to enjoy the hot, throbbing feeling with a smirk. Then pulls all the way out leaving you twitching and empty so he can shoot his load onto your thigh.

Exhausted, you rest against the door and take some deep breaths while you continue to twitch around nothing, and Callaghan tucks himself back into his underwear; gathering his own bearings right by you, leaning still against his arm and the door by your head.

After a few minutes, you look curiously at him again while he continues to chill post-session; trying to figure out what just happened. If you still felt the same about him, or if you were back to hating him. If he was still appealing. Was it just the Halloween? The costume? The night?

... oddly he is, still.

What the fuck.

#Professor Aaron Callahan x Reader Smutshot #Professor Callahan x Reader Smutshot #Professor Aaron Callahan x Reader #Professor Callahan x Reader #Professor Callahan #Professor Aaron Callahan #Smut #Smutshot #Broadway Legally Blonde #Musical Villains #Legally Blonde Broadway

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meritatem · 8 months

Text

Look, Selina is smart. Brilliant. An artist in her field, capable even of outsmarting Batman when the opportunity arises. She has enough skill and knowledge to maneuver the day-to-day in this cursed city, to not only survive but to thrive.

She knows all the rules of this game, she's alive because she knows how to play it well. So why, oh, why is she letting this unknown kid into her apartment without stopping to think about how much of a bad idea this is? She's blaming Jason Todd for this; it's true that her life was a bit in disarray before her encounter with Jason, but she's choosing to put more fault into him because he had to mess with her while wearing a Batman suit, so the personal offense feels warranted. Besides there's not much she can do when the kid actually knows where she's staying at the moment, only worsen by the fact that he calls her by her name - or well, last name - as soon as they get inside. It's not like she had doubts about the kid being adjacent to Batman in some way, not with all the kevlar and the expert roof surfing, but she wasn't expecting him to actually know things. Maybe this is a sign that she needs to step away for a little while, you know? To rest, heal and all that jazz.

Damian, of course, doesn't have time to wait for Selina to sort her internal conflicts, so he just takes the throw pillows from her couch and makes a little nest for the kittens on the floor, depositing them carefully in it and putting the cape back almost in one fluid motion, he then turned around and without waiting for Selina, went directly to the kitchen, prompting her to finally react.

“Where do you keep the dishes?” He asked even though he was already opening the cupboards. “And what kind of food do you have? They look old enough for something else besides milk.”

“Hold on,” and acting like this wasn't not unusual at all, she took off her goggles off and left them in the counter, tapping with her hand in passing one of the cupboards. “The bowls are there.”

Selina didn't have a cat of her own but she had the habit of feeding the stray cats that sometimes visited her balcony, so she had more than enough cat canned food, even if said food was more suitable for adult cats but going to the pet store wasn't an option at the moment, so for now it'll have to suffice. As soon as she poured the food into a bowl, Damian seized it, hurrying back to the cats while she took off her cowl, leaving it in the same place as her goggles before running her fingers through her hair, shaking it. For a moment she considered that maybe a glass of rum was in order, I mean, it was past two in the morning and she had an unnamed vigilante child sitting cross-legged in her living room, happily helping some kittens to eat from a feeding bowl that was a bit big for them... that surely entered in the territory of “I need alcohol for this”, but that also seemed exactly like not the thing to do with a kid present, especially when said kid apparently knew all her secrets.

“So,” she started, like she was continuing with a previous conversation. “What's your name?”

“No One.” He answered like he did that first time when he met Colin again. “That's what I go by.”

“Really? Sounds a little uninspiring.”

“I won't take criticism from someone calling herself Catwoman.”

“I hope you have this opinion for Batman too.”

“Batman is a simple and evocative name, easy for the vermin to remember and cower to. It's not the same.”

“You're biased because he's your boss.”

“He's not my boss, I answer to no-one but myself.” Which was a lie, because he did ask for Pennyworth's authorization for some things, but Kyle didn't need to know that.

In the course of the conversation, Selina started to move in the kitchen after finally deciding that tea would be best, maybe with some luck it'll really help her relax; seeing the situation she was in, seemed doubtful but it was worth a try.

“Do you want some tea?” She asked out of politeness, even if there was nothing polite about this.

“I'd accept hot chocolate, if you have it.”

“Sorry, dear, not at this time. How about milk with honey?”

“No, thank you.” He said, turning his nose with disdain.

Selina was sure this was the first time she hear someone showing so much contempt at the simple mention of milk. It was kind of funny coming from a child that definitely needed the calcium.

“So,” she said again. “How did you end up as Batman's associate?”

“By misfortune.”

Yeah, no, on a second thought she's not going there. “Ah, don't we all? It's always like that when he's involved, isn't it?” And there was a sense of nostalgia in her words, but it was only momentary. “But enough of this, let's talk about what are we going to do with these kittens,” that had to be a safer topic, right? “What was your plan? I'm sure you weren't thinking about breaking into my place before I found you.”

“I was going to temporally house them until I found a proper place for their reallocation.”

“Not adopting one yourself, uh?”

“I'm not in a position to care for an animal at the moment.”

With everything that was happening in his life, acquiring a new army of pets wasn't an immediate priority for Damian, that aside, he still had the intention of locating his old four-legged friends, if possible, so what was a little more of solitude after so many years of it?

“What is your protocol for cat rescuing?”

Selina wasn't a fan of the implication that this meant No One knew enough of her to know that she, in fact, was on the habit of saving furry critters from the streets when able. It wasn't like she actually believed a kid could be a terrible threat to her wellbeing, at least not one that claimed to be bat aligned, but it was unsettling that someone she never saw before had so much information, so clearly next time she saw Tim she'll have to ask him what was this all about.

She took out the cup she put in the microwave - with tea bag and sugar included - and made her way to the couch, letting the cup over the coffee table so she could get her boots off. It has been a long night, alright? Selina definitely was past caring about keeping appearances in her own home, intruding child or not.

“Just the usual, I feed them, take them to the vet if they need it and I drop them later at the shelter.”

“What shelter?”

“The one in Gillams Avenue.”

Selina chose to name that one because it was the one closer to her current location. In truth, Selina favored the one she personally sponsored, but she wasn't going to offer more information about her life, god knows what else de kid knew already.

“Paw Friends has allegations of animal mistreatment. Management says the issue has been resolved but I remain doubtful, I would recommend the one in Holroyd Close instead, at least until I verify the administration's claims.”

“Oh-ho?” she expressed melodically. “Is this your thing then? The big bad bat saves people, so you save animals?”

“I've broken bones bigger than yours.”

She couldn't help the laugh that escaped from her, here she was worrying about her secrets being in possession of a child with undisclosed intentions, while said child seemed more invested in dealing with animal welfare.

“Now, now, there's no need to be mean, we're practically on the same side here.”

“As if, we share very little in common. You don't even know what side I'm on.”

“Well, go on, enlight me.”

“My own, obviously.”

“See? That's something smart we can agree on.”

There was a very unfriendly answer ready in Damian's lips but he decided to kept that to himself, because he had no interest in continuing with such a pointless conversation, instead he was more interested in the kittens, that were done with their meal and looked now like tiny balls of fur. He felt very tempted to rub the kittens' fat little bellies, so it was a shame he couldn't take off his gloves to do that, but such were the injustices of life he had to accept.

Selina used the silence that followed to drink her tea and carefully observe her guest. Putting aside the suit and his idiolect, he didn't seemed all different from a kid taking enthusiastic care of a stranger's pet because he couldn't have one of his own. She wondered about what kind of life he had, because people usually didn't end in Batman's company for happy reasons and she wasn't blind, he was well trained, not in a way that some gymnastics in the community center could do, but something methodical and precise, in a manner that could only take years to learn. If he was saying the truth about Batman, was that the reason Bruce took him under his wing before everything? Because this was better than the alternative?

Her second mistake should be blamed on Zatanna, clearly something went wrong when she magically healed Selina, because at least that'd explain her past restlessness and now this sudden lack of common sense.

“I think it'd take a couple of days to get them a spot at the shelter, so, if you want, you can come and see them before that.”

“Tt, while your lack of effectiveness doesn't surprise me, your authorization is unnecessary. I've seen farm pens with better security than this place.”

If Selina were on a TV show, this would be the moment she'd turn to look at the camera with a unimpressed expression.

Damian had no problems with ignoring her again, this time so he could start moving the cats back to their pillow made enclosure. “They need appropriate accommodations.”

“I have a cat bed somewhere, dear,” she said, taking the last of her tea. “I'll make space for them in my room.” With that, Selina stood up, empty cup in hand, walking back to the kitchen without caring about being barefoot. “Do you have a curfew or something? As you can assume, I'm a very busy woman and if you're coming tomorrow,” she left the cup in the sink once she was in front of it before turning around. “I need—”

And just like that Selina found herself alone in her apartment, with only the meowing kittens for company and an open window, mocking her.

“You've got to be kidding me.”

From the long list of traits Damian wasn't especially proud, being a sore loser was one of the many. He liked to think he was better at it now, but it was a little difficult to measure such thing when the past years of his life had been about endurance and remorse. His current life was lacking of that too, because he wasn't competing with anyone: not for his place in the Wayne household, not for his right to be recognized as a Robin and not for his father's acceptance.

So he was trying to figure out if he was bothered because he was losing the current chess game he was having with Pennyworth or if it was the man's smug countenance, so proper and entertained, what was annoying him.

“Did you know,” said Pennyworth apropos nothing. “That the donation you made through Mrs. Wayne's Foundation has been accepted?”

Damian did in fact know, because whatever his plans were - big and small -, he was always paying attention; although he had more pressing matters than concerning himself with St. Aden's Orphanage's Easter celebration, it was still something he cared about. From the research he did the first time he met Colin, he found out that St. Aden was one of the many orphanages that was run under the Wayne Foundation and like all that fell under his father's charity, it was well founded so it wasn't in a dire need of Damian's own charitable efforts. But just like everything he did, this was just something purely for his own selfish reasons.

“As it should,” he answered without taking his eyes from the chessboard. “Are you trying to distract me, Pennyworth?”

“I would never,” he sounded convincingly offended by the accusation. “That would imply I need the advantage.”

Alfred was lucky Damian was so fond of him.

“I brought it up because I'd like to know if I should be preparing a customary Easter Hunt for you, sir.”

His first impulse was to scoff at such ludicrous idea and say no, because he wasn't a child. But it was just that, an automatic response from years of never considering himself a kid, not even in his earliest memories; it wasn't what Damian wanted now. He promised to himself that he'd stop rejecting the little joys of childhood, because it was the least he owed to the child he never had the chance to be.

“That would be acceptable,” he said, trying to sound indifferent. “Nothing too extravagant, simple yet tasteful would do.” And with that, he finally made his next move in the board.

“Of course, Master Damian, we wouldn't want the colorful eggs made for children to be anything but stylish.”

“You're always so hilarious, you should consider joining Grayson in the circus. You have the talent.”

The only reaction Damian got for his words, was a small amused twitch in the corners of Alfred's lips. “We should always strive to bring smiles to the ones around us.” And as if he had planned it, he made his move, successfully ending the game. “Checkmate.”

“Well played, Pennyworth,” said Damian after a moment. “You deserve to be rewarded for this, so I'll be on charge of making dinner today.”

Alfred's disapprovingly raised eyebrow was Damian's own victory... so maybe he was still a sore loser, but just the tiniest bit.

The computer in the Grave was a work in progress, while it served its main purpose, it had a lot of limitations compared with the Batcomputer, which was the reason why he had to sneak out from time to time in the cave - and more recently in the bunker - to get what he needed it. Of course, given the kind of people he lived with, sneaking out usually meant going on little infiltration operations. The safest time to do things he was trying to hide, was to do them when Grayson and Drake were too busy patrolling; the second was to do them when they were out cold after coming back from said patrolling.

Hypothetically, past four o'clock in the morning, should be a safe time to go in the bunker without having to worry much, at least in normal nights, when they didn't have wild situations going out of control by Gotham's standards. But Damian would've done well to remember that he also lived with a self-inflicted insomniac, so getting his plans ruined by Timothy Drake was frustratingly typical; at this point he really needed to install is own secret cameras in the bunker, if only to help him not waste time.

Going back as soon as he noticed that Tim was on the computer would be too suspicious, something Damian didn't need to add to when Drake already was distrustful of him, so he decided to do the first thing that came to his mind and started to walk confidently to the lockers, hoping Drake would just ignore him.

Of course he wasn't that lucky, because Tim seemed to have a natural disposition to go against his wishes. “What are you doing here?” He asked, as soon as Damian passed behind him, even if he was at a considerable distance.

“I came for my sword.” Was the disinterested answer.

Tim let out a sigh but kept working on what he was doing. “Why do you need it at this hour?”

“I can't sleep.”

“Training won't help, you're just going to overtire yourself.”

While part of Damian wanted to call out the hypocrisy, he was more focused on the fact that this was the first time he heard Drake say something that could be interpreted as worry for him, so probably at this point he was working on autopilot if he didn't mind sounding like he cared for Damian.

“It's not for that, is to help me sleep.”

“Are you seriously thinking about putting that under your pillow?”

“Not under my pillow, I just need to have it close.”

“The penthouse is up to Batman's standards, if something manages to pass that, you're going to need more than a sword.”

“It's not for defense, this is my emotional support sword.”

At this, Tim finally stopped typing and for a few seconds he just stared blankly at the screen in front of him. “I feel like I'm always asking you this, but, what?” And almost immediately he shook his head. “Forget it, don't answer, I know you're just messing with me.”

For a change Drake wasn't wrong when it came to him, so Damian wasn't going to argue. After he secured his sword and gave a quick but discreet look to the places that could be appropriate to install cameras, Damian naively thought that this will be the end of it, but when he got close to the stairs, Tim's voice made him stop right on his tracks.

“Damian.” It was just his name, but the way it was said felt too deliberate, like a command.

Drake, of course, wasn't looking at him when Damian turned around. He knew what kind of game the other was trying to play, so he just clicked his tongue with annoyance. “What?”

For a moment Tim acted like he didn't heard him or even spoke to him in the first place, so maybe Drake was fancying a kick in the shin this early in the morning, because he seemed to be asking just for that, however what he finally said next made Damian forget completely about any irritation.

“Do you still believe Bruce is going to come back?”

The unexpected question didn't surprise him that much, instead he was more curious about what thing in their interaction made Drake think about his father all of a sudden. “Yes, I do.”

At this, Tim turned the chair to look at him clearly. “Why? What proof do you have?” And his tone had a trace of mockery.

“I grew up surrounded by the legacy of a man obsessed with cheating death, I've seen the impossible become mundane.”

“That's it?” He said in a mix of disappointment and disdain. “Just because Ra's refuses to stay dead doesn't mean Bruce is somewhere out there, we have his body.”

“For all we know that's a magical clone.”

Probably it would be for the best if Damian wasn't so close to the truth, but given how utter ridiculous their lives were, his conjectures could pass just as a lucky guess.

Tim then let out a mirthless laugh, one that Damian knew very well. “That's the best you can come up with? Not like it matters,” he put his elbows in the armrests of the chair and interlocked his fingers, giving Damian a look of unmistakable condescension. “But what if you're wrong? What if all this time Bruce has been really dead and you're just in denial? What then, Damian?”

Drake's mind was a mystery. Damian couldn't even begin to fathom what triggered this, how they went from him reasoning his visit to the bunker to Tim talking like Damian was a fool, all in the blink of an eye. But he did have a theory as to why Drake, of all people, would act as if it was stupid to believe Bruce was alive.

Well, Damian was always up for theatricality, because that's what his life has always been at its core: a perpetual portrayal of what his parents wanted him to be. His life was still on a stage, the only difference was that now he was free to choose his role and how to play it.

“If my father is dead,” he started, sounding already bored. “There's only two paths for us to follow,” he unsheathed his katana and raised it at the same height of his shoulder, holding it horizontally in front of him. “We can defy the laws of nature and wage war on life and death alike,” with a subtle change of his wrist, he positioned the sword vertically, with its end pointing directly towards Tim. “And we search in heaven, hell and in-betweens until the universe kneels before us and has no other choice but give him back. Or,” in a blink-and-you-miss-it kind of movement, he sheathed the sword again, setting it firmly on the ground, resting his hands - one top of the other - over its handle. “We accept that he is gone and begin to come to terms with his loss until we learn to move on.” And he waited for his words to settle before finishing his little scene. “I already know my path. What's yours?”

And as if a switch had been flipped, Tim's whole demeanor changed; he practically slouched on the chair and gone was that air of taunting and somberness. He lazily studied Damian for a moment before just sighing with fake disappointment.

“You were less annoying when you were just homicidal.” Despite his words, his tone wasn't really antagonistic. “And I bet you think you looked cool just now.”

Damian hid his amusement, finally abandoning his imitation a general in front of his army. “The fact that you think that's what I was trying to do, denotes that you indeed thought I was, as you said, 'cool'.” Tim just rolled his eyes and turned the chair going back to his work, looking like he didn't try some kind of strange test on Damian just a moment ago. “You shouldn't stay so late, you know how Pennyworth feels about that.”

“Mind your own business and go cuddle your sword or something. And you better not tell Alfred you saw me here.”

“I don't need to, he always knows.”

Considering how true that was, Tim's lack of retort was expected, unlike the whole exchange they just had, but psychological warfare aside, that had been one of their most civil conversations, so overall Damian was counting it as a win.

⪻Chapter 12

Chapter 14⪼

#f.r.w.#chap13

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