#he works so hard to be seen as smart and mature

[redrobin-detective]

Listen, we know Bruce was traumatized by his parents’ death but I hold that even before they were killed Bruce Wayne was a little weirdo. Like his paranoia and difficulty with emotion and attachment are from that terrible night. But I imagine 8 year old Brucie was OCD as hell and painstakingly arranging and rearranging his things to his satisfaction. He was meticulous, even as a child, very detail oriented. Highly intelligent, showing a boundless curiosity and determination to understand everything from a young age. I bet he was hell to enforce bedtimes on, always to do much to do and too little hours in the day. 

Bruce was that kid who dragged bugs in the house for study, pulled down all the books on one shelf so could arrange them in height order, skittered around the house’s many passages like a little rat. He was the kid who was happy and cheerful but a bit awkward from growing up a Wayne, he would much rather squirrel away somewhere with a book considered too old for him than talk with people he didn’t know. He loved the macabre in the way weird little kids too, he wanted to see Zorro for the action and the violent fight scenes. Thomas and Martha Wayne had to listen to their precocious son ask them time and again how they thought they would die and listen to his speculations.

I want the Justice League to have to go back in time for whatever reason and they expect Bruce to be a delightful, happy, normal child. Instead, they find a kid with a lovingly worn Sherlock Holmes omnibus under one arm, an entire bag of raisins in the other, dark circles under his eyes from late nights reading and he’s covered in dust and debris from getting stuck behind the drywall again. 

“You’re not mom and dad’s friends,” he’d say in a petulant voice with a familiar set of his mouth. “I’m gonna call my butler and he’s going to kick your butt.” And the whole League loses their mind because Bruce really has always been Bruce.

#Bruce being a perfectly normal child is broke #woke is Bruce was a Weird Little Girl before he ever had trauma #Alfred knocks on his door to call him to dinner and Brucie Wayne is performing a seance to raise his great great grandfather to find treasur #he definitely wrote on the walls and floor when he was thinking too hard and needed to write something down #DEF was that weird kid who liked sneaking up on people and hide in small odd places #No robin can hide from B or Alfred bc baby Bruce absolutely found all the good weird ass hiding spots a small child can wedge into #he carries weird shit on him at all times in case he needs it #he works so hard to be seen as smart and mature #he's a bit of a brat but in kind of a charming way bc he's so sweet and thoughtful #he gives his mom a frog he found in the pond for mothers day #he's still dripping wet and covered in pond scum and grinning so proud as he deposits the frog in her manicured hands #we need more weirdo baby bruce wayne

[miguelsslvt]

ex nerd! scientist! miguel o'hara x slutty! reader

part two here!

word count: 745

TW: smut, nsfw, d/s themes, mentions of pet play.

A/N: THIS IS INSPIRED BY @nymphomatique SO PLS CHECK THEIR ONE OUT!! their drabble rlly inspired me so i thought maybe i could add a little twist;) welcome to the club!

back in your college days, you were.. promiscuous, some would say. well, you were the biggest slut on campus. if your body count didn't say it all, then the rumours sure did.

you took chemistry, maths, physics and biology. you wanted to be a physics scientist, partially because of the thought of there being lots and lots of different universes, but mostly because the pay was brilliant.

miguel o'hara was your 'pet' back in your college days, per-say.

you used him for your homework, and in exchange you would fuck him, give him head, handjobs, you name it. you took miguel's virginity, and every bit of innocence he had left. he was totally smitten by you. i mean, a pretty, popular girl giving him attention no one ever did? sign him up.

miguel was the biggest loser you knew back then. he wasn't the most muscly, and he had those ridiculous black square glasses, and his outfits were shocking. he had a slight lisp due to his late braces, and his hair was far too long and he clearly struggled to maintain it. to keep it blunt, he wasn't cool at all. he was a loser, a simp, and a goody two-shoes. perfect as your little pet.

it wasn't until after graduation did you stop your little encounters. after leaving college, you blocked his number and left campus on the same day. you thought you'd never have to see that nerdy freak again. well, that's what they all say, right?

that was until you finally got a job at ALCHEMAX. you were a 'technological support scientist', which sounded smart but really all you got to do was watch all the better scientists do tests. you didn't mind, it did more then just pay your bills. hell, with the checks you're bringing in you could probably buy a new car in a few months!

you thought things were all sunshine and rainbows, until the thunder walked in. it's funny though, you didn't realise thunder looked like 6'9 tall and 310 pound of pure muscle and attractiveness. his braces were gone, his hair more clean and cut a little shorter, and his glasses just resting on top of his head, but you knew exactly who he was.

'm-miguel o'hara?!' you said, shocked. he turned around swiftly, looking down at you, before his eyes widened. 'y/n l/n?' he said, surprised. you both had become blushing messes. well, his glow up sure came after only 3 years.

'you.. work here?' you asked, absolutely awe-struck. 'i.. do. i am a technological scientist here. you work here too? why haven't i ever seen you around before?' he asked, intriuged. 'i-it's my first day here. you.. matured.' you said, clearly checking him out.

the man smirked. he actually smirked. the man who would whimper, begging to just get off on your shoe, smirked at you like he was in control. 'and you look as gorgeous as 3 years ago.'

your heart stopped. who was this man? this muscular, defined, confident, completely self aware man.. this wasn't miguel. there was no way.

'you..you're very different, miguel.' you said, a blushing mess. he chuckled, putting some latex gloves on. fuck, even his hands were attractive. 'well alot happens to a guy.' he says smoothly, his voice deeper. god this was going to be hard.

♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎

that very night, you were spread out on the bed, and you didn't recognise the man above you.

3 years ago, a scrawny desperate nerdy little boy was on his knees, as if you were a goddess. and now, that very man was on top of you, kissing your neck so skilfully, as if he's done this for years. his thrusts had rhythm, as he grinded along your g spot with ease, you let out a gasp and a breathy moan, as he shushed you.

'sh, bonita.. you've changed. where's that dominatrix you were back in college days? why are you so.. obedient?~' he whispered in your ear, as you moaned again.

'i-i think i-it's y-you that changed, m-miguel..' you breathily said in response, as he chuckled. 'oh no, sweetheart, i'm still the same loser that was begging on his knees for you. just now, i've learnt how to please you as well as me.' he said in response, his hands moving down from your breasts to your hips, his cock deep inside you as he grinded his hips as you felt every inch.

god, is this heaven?

♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎

#atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel smut #miguel spiderverse #smut #across the spiderverse #fem reader #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman atsv #2099 #miguel x you #miguel o'hara x fem!reader

[luvjunie]

— headcanons. what life is like for miles!42

a/n: i honestly didn’t mean for these to get so angsty oopsies!! i kept adding on so they’re also very lengthy wc: 1,751

contains: mentions of grief

Everyone thinks he’s rude and impossible to approach—but that’s a common misconception. In reality, he’s actually quite shy and simply prefers to keep to himself. His quiet nature often causes him to come off ill-mannered, which is completely unintentional on his end and partially the fault of those who assume what he’s like instead of actually getting to know him.

He used to be open to making friends and spending time with peers, but after everyone found out his dad died— which was impossible to prevent considering the man who used to drive him to school now had a giant mural made in his honor— he began receiving a ridiculous amount of pitied stares in the halls, began hearing hushed whispers about how hard things must be for him at home now. And even though they were, he hated that he was being treated differently by those he once kept close to him, like a charity case. As if he were fragile and would break— like he often did when he was alone.

His old friends were supposed to be his distraction, something to take his mind off how he now had to grow up faster than he’d liked. Something to remind him that his trauma hadn’t aged him as much as he feared; that he truly was still a kid at heart. But instead, they served as a constant reminder of the worst thing he’d ever had to live through— skated around him like he’d blow up the second they said the wrong thing; responded with heartfelt condolences instead of laughing with him whenever he’d tell a funny story about his dad. So eventually, he drifted away from them and began keeping to himself all together.

Don’t put him in a box because of his prowler side hustle, this boy is smart as hell!! Especially with one parent now being gone and his mom struggling to pay the bills? He takes his academics very seriously, he has no choice. He has to get it out the mud somehow and he doesn’t have the privilege of skipping classes as much as 1610-miles does. He’s working two years above his grade level in AP Calculus and AP physics, and has been accused of cheating on his tests a couple times due to how fast he completes them, as well as the fact that he has never once asked a question from the seat he chose in the back of the room.

It’s not something anyone would expect, but he enjoys baking a lot and he’s damn good at it too. When he was younger, he’d spent one summer with his Mamá Lena (Rio’s mother), who had him in the kitchen helping her cook and bake almost everyday and it just stuck. It’s a secret talent of his that never really comes up in conversation, and that you wouldn’t know about unless you’ve seen him doing it. His banana bread muffins using a recipe he took months to perfect taste like the gods themselves made them, and he’ll slip one into his mom’s work lunch whenever he makes them because he knows they’re her favorite.

He’s a lover boy at heart, if you were to look into his playlist, the songs you’d find in there probably wouldn’t be what you’d expect. Listens to bobby bland, which was heavily influenced by his uncle, old school rap, and he really likes love songs from the 90s because they make him feel calm, and allow him to imagine what his life would be like if he could have something like what they’re singing about. He’s terrified he’ll never be able to experience that due to his inability to open up to others. And often, he doesn’t even try to express the emotions that are tough to swallow, a firm believer in the saying that ‘once you’re down, it’s hard to get back up.’

Keeps his room pretty clean. It’s probably the one and only thing he has control over in his life, a constant for him. His room is his safe-haven so he treats it as such. It’s basically the same as 1610’s, just with a more matured look, a lot less color and less expression. He unfortunately lost that spark for a lot of his interests, so you won’t see more than a small punching bag, some boxing gloves hanging from the doorknob and few stragglers in the form of posters he didn’t feel like taking down.

He doesn’t like to argue, at all. He hates fighting with anyone he loves and he’s very quick to forgive them or squash the disagreement all together now that his dad is no longer here. When Jeff died, they were still on rocky terms from their previous dispute and even while years have passed, Miles still has yet to forgive himself for that. So now, he usually lets bygones be bygones, and never lets a conversation end on a bad note.

Continued growing his hair out once he realized it was a way for him to bond and spend more time with his mom. Within the little availability they do have, between her working doubles at the hospital, him being pulled in every direction now that he’s the ‘man of the house’—uncle Aaron’s words— and having to do things he’s not proud of to assist her while still going to school during the day, they make the time. Miles only gets it braided by her, and he enjoys the talks they have when he’s sat on the floor between her legs with his back to her. And when she’s done, regardless of how ridiculously embarrassing it is, and how he’s now over a head taller than her, he always lets her pinch his cheeks and call him her ‘handsome little man’. He hasn’t looked at a pair of hair shears since.

On that note, he is very, very defensive when it comes to his mother. Miles is not the kind to go around beating people up just for kicks; mostly because he’s not that kind of person, but also because even if he wanted to— he can’t.

In preparation for stepping into the prowler role Uncle Aaron put Miles into boxing/m.m.a classes when he turned fourteen, and he took to the skill very quickly. So well, in fact, that his hands can now technically be considered deadly weapons in the eye of the law due to his extensive training— which means he could get slapped with a ridiculous assault charge that would have him doing some time in a juvenile correction facility over a simple fist fight. (if he’s not masked as the prowler obviously).

But, some kid in his history class thought it’d be funny to make a slick comment about how Mrs. Morales was ‘single’ and ‘up for grabs’ now that his dad had passed, and the situation ended with Miles suspended for a week after he’d basically thrown his desk over to get to the kid, his knuckles bruised, and a tirade of complaints from the boy’s mother about his now-rearranged nose. However, after hearing the disgusting comment he had made about Miles’ mom, she was kind enough to not press charges and forced her son to apologize to the both of them.

That woman is his saving grace, literally. She stepped up in ways he didn’t even know were possible after his dad died, barely taking time for herself to grieve because she wanted to make sure her little boy didn’t fall apart. He doesn’t let anyone disrespect her and that’s always made known by him. He’s a mama’s boy.

They kind of have a titfortat thing going on, him and his mom. Like how she always stops in to ask him how his day was, if school is going well or if he needs anything, even if the time isn’t ideal and she’s talking to a sleepy Miles at 1am in the morning who can barely keep his eyes open. Or how his uniform is always freshly ironed and laid out for him in the morning, regardless of how exhausted she is and how badly she wants to crawl into bed after her shift. Or how when he’s sick, she’ll drive all the way across town to one of the only fresh markets that sells yuca root and white yautia so she can make him sancocho (a traditional puerto rican dish). It’s the one thing she knows always makes him feel better.

And Miles does nice things for her, too. Like draping a blanket over her sleeping form when she dozes off on the couch in front of the TV. Or making sure her phone is plugged in, so her alarm goes off in the morning, because sometimes she knocks out before she can bring herself to do it. He even goes as far as to secretly slip some extra cash he’s made from a recent job into the ‘RENT’ jar she keeps on her dresser— dropping a hundred in every now and then when she’s not there to see him do it. She’s never once asked him for help, but the one time he took it upon himself to offer it, he was shot down in seconds, and was made to promise her that he wouldn’t worry about it ever again. Her exact words being “You’re too young to worry about something like this mijo, okay? You take all the money you make from your after school job, every single penny, and you save it. Mama’s got this.”

But sometimes, she doesn’t. And Miles knows that she wants to be strong for him. For them. But it takes two, he knows that as well, so he helps out anyway.

And with prayers that they’re not short— Rio counts everything in the rent jar towards the end of the month, and a string of celebratory whoops and hollers will always sound from her room when she realizes they surprisingly have some extra cash that’ll allow her to take some days off and relax for once, and maybe even do something fun together. He’ll listen from his room with a knowing smile, more than happy to let his contributions remain undisclosed to affirm her efforts of providing for them the best she can. With her energy so depleted from how demanding her job is, she’s never suspected it was him discreetly assisting, and chalked it up to her forgetting how much she’d mindlessly dropped in there after each paycheck.

#junie’s works ᥫ᭡ #i kinda went crazy i won’t even lie #my favorite headcanon is the baking one!! #earth 42 miles morales fanfiction #prowler miles fanfic #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles angst #miles morales headcanons #miles morales fanfiction #42 miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse fanfiction #across the spiderverse headcanons

[wutheringcaterpillar]

Hey! I’m wondering if you’d be willing to write a fic where Thomas is intending for John to marry Y/N to unite the Lees and the Shelbys like the show, but when he sees her the first time, he changes his mind on John marrying her. Instead he marries her

Warnings: smut, loss of virginity, altered storyline, Tommy’s a sweety, p in v , oral if you blink, altered storyline, name calling, slight misogyny

thank you for the request, hope you enjoy!

Tommy and John were sat awaiting your arrival, expecting you any moment now. John went on and on about how you were back in grade school, none of that really mattering to Tommy in the slightest.

The door opened, a brisk wind rolling in, pushing your hair in front of your face, your innocent vanilla scent flowing into the booth, as you flipped your hair behind your shoulder.

Tommy shifted uncomfortably at your beauty and grace. Your tone was soft, and a smile as bright as the sun, he couldn’t allow his brother to marry you, not with a face like that. 

Dropping your bag near the booth, Tommy couldn’t take his eyes off of you, helping you pick up your belongings from the floor. When you thanked the man for helping, you locked eyes with him, an immediate attraction being drawn to you from those crystal blue eyes.

“Thomas Shelby, pleasure to meet you.” When the handsome, intimidating man spoke, a thrill of attraction and desire rushed through your veins like a hurricane, time suddenly seemed to be irrelevant, along with the man you were arranged to marry.

“Y/N L/N. Likewise.” He motioned for you to sit, offering one of the many cigarettes he carried in his suit. When you declined, mentioning how you don’t smoke Tommy was stunned and intrigued. 

Everyone smoked in the garrison, it was hard to find a woman that didn’t. 

Taking your seat beside John, you straightened your back, folding your hands gracefully, fully prepared for any questions that may come your way.

John smirked, glancing down at the clear cleavage, your bra barelt holdimg in you breasts, he nodded toward Tommy to take a glance but he’d never disrespect a woman in that manner. He simply began conversation, asking where you lived, went to school, even personal things such as a family matters. He was a fair man, offering the same respect back, his voice brooding but in a good, hospitable way.

“John, do you mind if I take lovely Y/N here to the bar and make her a drink.” John hadn’t barely heard Tommy speak as he was joking around with Finn. Simply waving you both off, they chattered on, making you contemplate on whether or not John was fit to be a husband.

Tommy noticed the quizzical expression on across your face, intending to turn that frown into a smile. 

“What’s it going to be my dear? Whiskey? Gin? No, something is telling me you are a rum and coke girl?” His eyebrows raised, furrowing together in curiosity with the expectation and hopefulness that he was right. You couldn’t contain the rose petal blush paint your cheeks, glancing down in embarassment and moving a wild strand of hair behind your ear.

“How’d you know?”

“Just a lucky guess. Some say I’ve been gifted with the ability to read people. You seem like a smart girl Y/N, what type of hobbies do you indulge in, surely everyone has at least one.” Settling your purse down, you watched as he worked effortlessly behind the bar, topping off you drink with a whip cream which surprised you, most people found it odd, never having seen anyone do so yourself.

“Oh I- I enjoy reading, and occasionally shopping, a girl can never have too many clothes.” Tommy chuckled, staying behind the bar and lighting a cigarette, in that moment he knew you were too good for John. He wasn’t a saint himself but he wad far more mature and caring compared to his little, reckless brother.

“Well from my perception, you look very endearing, and well, stop me if this is too much but you’re quite beautiful Y/N, my brother’s very lucky to have you.” You waved him off, giggling like a school girl but Tommy never took his eyes off of you, entranced by your illuminating smile, and adorable laugh. There was a silence for a moment when you realized that perhaps Tommy felt the same way you were feeling. The goosebumps on your skin, the heart beat between your thighs, trying to evade the temptation, the profound want to be in bed with that ever charming smile, and angelic blue eyes, and those lips, those plump, pale lips that you wanted to kiss right there.

How was this powerful man already under your skin in such a small amount of time, was it the way he took interest in your life? The way his subtle gaze seemingly never broke away from you? Or perhaps his way of words, speaking with finesse and confidence, never once stuttering.

John approached the bar breaking the evident friction between you two. Your smile faded when he wrapped his arm behind your shoulders, pulling you in closely to his body heat.

“How’s everything love? He isn’t scaring you is he?” You shook your head no, staying quiet and biting your lip attempting to hold back from laughing when Tommy raised his eyebrows challengingly, playfully as if he wasn’t making you more comfortable than his brother. 

“Alright well, Arthur and I are going to go to a few pubs, see what kind of trouble we can get into tonight before the big night, if you know what I mean Tommy.” He winked at his older brother who didn’t seem the least bit impressed. Had he really just said that right in front of you? Reassuring you’d be alright here and be heading home in a little bit, Johnny bid you both goodbye, finishing off your rum and coke on his way out. How rude.

Scoffing, Tommy made you a new drink.

“You’ll have to allow me to apologize for my brother he can be quite- What’s the word I’m looking for? Oblivious sometimes.” A wave of relief washed over you when you were alone with Tommy once more, even the patrons in the bar clearing out for the night.

The palpable tension in the room magnetized when his charismatic eyes remained on you, the heat building beatween your legs, but you weren’t going to be the one to just come out and say it. Like Tommy always did best, he took the initiative, clearing the silence.

“Do you want to fuck me, Y/N?” He raised his eyebrows expectedly, his eyes searing into your soul as he handed you your drink, his fingers grazing over the softness of your fingers.

Stunned by his question, you couldn’t deny the electric current of desire running through your veins. Your eyes searched one another in question, the intensity of his dominance protruding you very being.

“I-I suppose I would but- I must inform you I’ve never really-“

“There’s no need to fret Y/N. I’ll go slow, I wish to spend as much time with you as I can, if you’ll have me that is.” Were you really about to do this? This wasn’t the girl that you were but Tommy was so enticing, and held a clear attraction toward you. You’ve heard many stories of Thomas Shelby, yet you found yourself following him out to the car as he held an umbrella over you, not looking back once.

As soon as the bedroom door closed his lips were on you as he hoisted you up onto the dresser. Hands caressing your bare thighs while your legs wrapped around his torso, melting into his fiery touch. He tasted of whiskey and mint, smelling of a subtle yet timberwood like scent. Your tongues collided with one another in disparity, your nightgown strap sliding down carelessly in the process. 

“You are an enchantress, my darling.” You unbuttoned his shirt, pushing yourself up as you walked one another still embraced toward the bed.

Unclasping your bra, Tommy relished in that sight of your bare, nude breasts. They were everything he had imagined, soft, rounded, delectable enough that he couldn’t waste another moment with having his lips on your enlarged nipples. Sucking the sensitive skin, lapping his tongue repeatedly as you moaned from the touch.

“Feels good Tommy. I need more. Please.” Begging already? You felt pathetic but didn’t care and neither did he when he pulled you onto the bed.

“Your wish is my command, love.” He layed you down gently on the white sheets, your hands skimming his muscular chest as he fumbled hastily to take his shirt off before diving back into your lips with a deep desire. 

His eyes never left you, drawn into the perfection of your skin, the way your nude body gleamed poetically beneath him in the dim light. 

“Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want to-“

“Yes. Yes I’m sure I don’t want to waste another minute, I need you in me Tommy.” That was all the reassurance he needed to hear. When he undid his belt and tugged his pants down his member popped up, perky and ready. He was long, and rather wide, partially shaven, but that didn’t matter to you. Tommy could see the nervous worry in your eyes when they landed on his cock, but he needed you to understand he wasn’t one to rush such a big, personal decision.

Laying his hand caringly on your cheek, he looked into your eyes, demanding your attention so you knew he wasn’t kidding.

“I know it may seem a bit frightening but I assure you, we go at your pace. If you want me to stop tell me, okay?” You nodded, and then again when he motioned toward your white laced panties. When he slid them down your legs, you turned your head in embarrassment, always holding a tremendous insecurity for your appearance downstairs. Tommy on the other was blown away at the sight of your untouched pussy. 

“May I?” You nodded for him to continue, fully trusting him. His tongue glided between your wet lips, devouring your sweet rose, taking you by surprise and shedding the insecurity from your skin. “You have nothing to be ashamed of love. It’s perfect, and tastes exquisite.” You blushed as he continued to eat you, waiting for your nectar to slowly seep out, for him to start prepping you. When his finger entered you there was a slight discomfort, you’d never gone down there yourself but Tommy took his time and focused on your body language. After a few moments he entered a second finger, your tight walls surrounding his digits, coating them with your slick. There was a slight pleasurable feeling from feeling so full. He fingered you for a few minutes until he deemed you ready.

“Are you ready love?” You nodded that i was okay, and he kissed you once more reassuringly. He was slow upon entering, his cock aligned with your gaping, eager hole, the head resting there for a few seconds so you were aware of what was to come. He slowly pushed his head in, protruding your virgin walls, inch by inch. He stopped halfway in when you winced in pain, wanting to give you time to adjust.

“Focus on my voice. The pain will dissipate soon, tell me when you want me to go further.” After a few seconds, you relaxed your muscles, nodding for him to continue. When he was all the way in there was a sharp shot of pain from being stretched from his cock and your cherry now being popped.

Your eye fluttered close as he slowly pumped in and out of you tenderly, taking his time until you were comfortable for him to fasten his pace. The pain slowly subsiding as your inner walls calmed. 

“Faster.” When you spoke it was but a whisper, Tommy understood. His shaft fucked into you quickly, the head of his cock slamming into your cervix with each thrust.

“Fuck Tommy! More… Oh fuck.” Your boobs jiggled with each powerful thrust, but you needed to be closer somehow. Sitting up and you straddled his lap never breaking from the bonding of his cock.

Your hands grazed over the muscular tone of his back, wanting, needing to be closer to him. He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his lips curling over the wamrth of your bare skin, tongue twirling as he kissed you with profound passion. You continued to ride his cock, hips rotating and grinding, until an unexplainable, euphoric feeling began to build in your pussy. 

Tommy knew what was coming and held you close to him, wanting you to know he was right there, riding your orgasm out with you. Holding you caringly and rubbing soothing circles into your back as you crumbled and came undone with one another. After a moment, you lifted your head in a fucked out melody, running your thumb down his bottom lip and staring into his sapphire eyes. In that moment Tommy didn’t know what came over him, but he knew what had to be said. He couldn’t let you go.

“Marry me.” 

“What?” You were stunned by his statement but stayed folded against him lazily, your knees to weak to move from out of his lap.

“What about John?”

“He’ll understand. He will, but who would I be as a man be to fuck you and let a pretty girl like you fall from my hands. I can be a good husband if you give me the chance.” As your breathing slowed down, Tommy’s seed flowed from your deflowered pussy, wetting his thigh making you laugh and apologize before giving him answer but it didn’t take you long to think.

“I will marry you, I just ask we let John down gently. I don’t want to be the cause of his pain.” At that moment the door flew open, Tommy was quick to pick the comforter up from the floor and shield your nude body. He was ready to start yelling until he recognized the man standing in the door to be his brother.

“What the fuck is going on here? That’s my fucking wife to be!” John went to rip the blanket from you in a furious rage but Tommy was faster, standing up and pushing his brother back out into the hallway, nothing but a sheet around his waist hiding his cock. John could be heard screaming obscenities, mostly pointed at you as Tommy pushed him into another room.

“She’s a fucking whore! A disgusting tramp who knows no fucking boundaries! And you! You fucked my girl Tommy! You can’t just steal my bride to be. How fucked is that! No- How fucked is it that the people closest to you are the ones who take the knife and twist in your fucking back!” Tommy pulled open a drawer, lighting a cigarette and remaining calm as John continued to yell at him.

“You can have the fucking cunt! Go ahead, see what I care!” 

“She wasn’t right for you Johnny. Not with a face like that. Don’t take it personal eh? You’ll marry someone else instead. Besides knowing you as well as I do, you’ll be on to the next one in no time won’t you Johnny boy?” John rolled his eyes, scrunching his nose and closing his fists in anger before he punched a hole in the drywall. Tommy merely stood by the window, not feeling the least bit sorry as he knew his brother and he knew him well. Within a week he’d be passed it, forgotten about you and the betrayal of your short lived relationship. The only thing on Tommy’s mind was returning to you, surely John’s words had upset you immensely.

~

When the big day finally arrived, it was like a scene out of the movies. The reception was held in the backyard, the aisle covered in pebbles, white rose flowered bushes running down the perimeter of the wooden benches, the sun setting poetically behind the silver laced altar. 

Friends and families gathered round, coming together for your day since Tommy may or may not have threatened some to be there for you, but he wasn’t going to tell you that. Now here you were seated with Ada while she was finishing up your makeup, and hair. 

“What do you suppose the boys are doing right now?” Ada chuckled, whimsically, looking at her work in the mirror, trying to lighten the nerves you were feeling, but that question alone seemed to make you more anxious.

“Getting a long I hope. I do feel sorry for John, I just hope he can forgive us. We didn’t mean to hurt him.” Ada remained friendly, never entering the crossfire of her brother unless absolutely necessary. She could only give you advice, and be there as not a friend but a sister should.

~

Tommy was suited in his formal attire, looking out all the people chatting near the garden when there was a knock at the door.

“Come in.” John entered the room, a delicate expression running over his face, showing he wasn’t here to cause any harm. Tommy nodded toward the desk, sitting in his seat and pouring his brother a glass of whiskey. 

“You probably need this more than me.” John chuckled sincerely, not knowing how to start this conversation. Tommy could tell he was uncomfortable, a look of guilt just barely visible in his eyes. Shaking his head, he joined his hands together, motioning toward the ring the bearer still had to come and retreive.

Upon opening the velvet box, John was in shock, the dazzling rock shimmering in the sunlight. The ring itself had to of been far more than John’s own personal cut from the company, which told him Tommy must have taken the time to close deals and make investments. In that moment he understood Tommy cared for you more than he ever did, he would have never spent that amount of money on you, or anyone for that matter. 

“She likes diamonds you know?” John shook his head indeed not knowing that small fact about you because he never took the time. He never had any interest or care to ask, to really get to know you. Closing the box, he frowned, reminiscing back to the fight just last week he had with you both. He was ashamed, and knew he could have handled it better.

“I came to apologize Tom. I acted immaturely and I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those terrible things. You guys look happy, she chose the right man.” Tommy chuckled, lighting a cigarette and tossing one to John.

“All is forgiven brother but I’m not the one that requires an apology. You can be a good man John, I believe that I do. But with the right woman.” Tommy left it at that, believing in his brother that he would speak with you before the wedding was to begin. John nodded understandingly, knowing Tommy was right, leaving no room for him to argue. All this hatred, anger, where were these emotions getting him? No where.

Glancing down at his watch, he bid Tommy goodbye, making his way to your dressing room. 

-

A knock at the door startled you as you were putting on your heels, worried it was Tommy you sent Ada to the door. “Who is it?”

“It’s John.” Ada turned to face you for answer. When you nodded she opened the door and excused herself from the room.

“Wow.” John was impressed with the workings of Ada, you looked truly breath taking, nothing he’s ever seen before in a woman. Smiling sweetly, you motioned for him to sit.

He twiddled his thumbs, nervously searching for the right words, but he didn’t really know where to start, so he went with the first thought in his mind.

“I’m sorry. I was out of my fucking head speaking about you like that. My brother, he’s a good man, the better man. Besides we never really had a connection did we?” You shook your head no in agreement, thankful John came to apologize, but you also shared your feelings of how you and Tommy should have just sat down with him before anything happened. He accepted your apology, but noticed you were due outside in five minutes. Bidding you farewell, he wished you luck and told you, you’d make a great wife and Tommy is lucky to have you, he needed you.

Ada knocked on the door, informing you it was time. Taking a deep breath you met your father at the patio door, a mixture of happiness and excitement protruding your ever bone.

Family and friends stood up, your mother crying from how beautiful and elegant you appeared. When you reached the alter, a singular tear swam down Tommy’s cheek as he smiled widely when he removed your vail. You were stunning, breathtaking, everything he’s ever dreamed about. John stood by his side as a groomsmen, happy to finally see his older brother smile for once. As the vows were exchanged. The ring beamed with an exquisite beauty, your eyes brimming with tears when Tommy placed the expensive jewelry on your finger, claiming you as his wife. 

“Tommy it’s beautiful.” You were hoping and praying your makeup wasn’t running down your cheeks. As vows were exchanged, the man motioned that it was time to kiss the bride. Tommy rested his hands on your cheeks, time stopping when he placed his lips on yours as the man announced you to be Mrs. Tommy Shelby.

#thomas shelby #tommy shelby #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagine #ranaewrites #peaky blinders #requested

[miniwheat77]

Brat pt. 2 (dbf!Captain Price.)

!CW! NSFW, Smut, unprotected p in v sex, John being a gentleman 🥰, virginity loss, mention of body shaming, thigh riding (sorry if I missed any.)

“How has Y/N been lately?” John asks your dad.

It’s been a few weeks since you’ve seen him. “Oh she’s been great, I’m not sure what was going on with her.” He shrugs. You were off at a friends house right now, it was just John and your dad. They’re in your back yard, making burgers for dinner on the grill. “Maybe she just needed out of the house.” He smiles. “Yeah maybe. I’m sure she’s going stir crazy being done with school and all that.” He laughs, flipping one of the beef Pattie’s with a spatula. “She’s been out so much lately.” He sighs. “Is that bad?” John asks. “No of course not, it’s just hard. She’s eighteen now yeah but she still had to abide by my rules. I just hate that she’s growing up. I don’t want her getting herself into trouble thinking she’s more mature than she actually is.” John is listening, choosing to let your dad vent versus talking.

“I mean.. even when she was a little girl, she always liked older guys. Like.. thirties and above. She’s never liked guys her age. And I understand. Boys her age are nothing but.. sex driven assholes. I just worry so bad about her walking into the arms of the wrong man.” He sighs. For a minute, John feels bad. Like he’s taken advantage of you. You seemed so mature for your age, maybe he’d missed it.

“I’ve always monitored her stuff. Cell phones, computer. Everything. Behind her back of course. Just to make sure she never started talking to anyone online or any of that but I stopped because she’s adult now, deserves her privacy n all that. I never found anything out of the ordinary.” He shrugs. “She’s a smart girl. I’m sure she’ll be just fine.” John shrugs. “Yeah, I know. I just worry cause it’s my kid. Even though her attitude kills me sometimes.” He laughs. John smiles. “She does got quite the attitude.”

Your dad shakes his head with a smile. "Sometimes she's real nice, a real good girl. Other times I just wanna strangle her." He groans. John laughs, taking a drink of his beer. "She'll get better mate, it takes a while. I'm sure she's just figuring everything out." Your dad nods. "Yeah. You try saying that when she's being a brat." He rolls his eyes. "Send her my way. Little military training wouldn't hurt" He laughs. Your dad smiles. "That's a great idea actually. Although with how mean she can get she might humble you a little bit. Got a bite just like her dad." He laughs. "Sure it's nothing I can't handle."

He laughs. Just then, they hear your car pull into the driveway, an awful squeak coming from your car as you come to a halt. "Fuck." Your dad grumbles. "What?" John asks. "I told her I'd look at her breaks last weekend and never got around to it." He sighs. "I'm not doing anything, I can look at 'em while you're at work." He shrugs. "Oh that'd be great, thanks John." He smiles. You step out the back door, smiling when you see the both of them. Sundress blowing in the wind. "Are we gossiping out here?" You smirk. "Yeah about you. John's gonna take a look at your brakes so you can quit bugging me about it." He nudges you. "It just needs new brake pads." You roll your eyes. "I'll find something else to bug you about just because you said that." You smirk. "Yeah. I'm gonna send you John's way when you’re acting like a brat. He'll get you whipped into shape." He winks. Patting your shoulder. Your heart falls into your stomach, and your dad passes by you into your house, John nearly spits his beer out at your expression. Your cheeks are bright red and your eyes are wide. "He meant.. military punishments. We were joking about it." He laughs. "Oh.. Okay." You breathe. You needed to get the hell out of there. "Bring your car over, I'll look at it." You nod your head, hurrying off to hide your blushing cheeks.

Your heart settles in your chest as you climb into your car, starting up the engine. You notice John’s garage door opening. You pull out of you driveway and maneuver your car into his, pulling into his garage until he tells you to stop. He closes the garage door behind you. “I already have the brake pads and rotors.” You fidget with your hands nervously, you’re alone with him again. “Alright, so this will be easy than.” He smiles.

He gathers everything he’ll need. Tools, car jack. He even had some extra oil laying around. Figuring he’d just do it while he’s working on your car.

As he’s working on it, he starts asking questions. Not easing into it, jumping in head first. “So. I’ve heard your dad mention more than once that you’re into older guys. There a reason?”

His blunt question sends crimson up your cheeks. “Uh…” you pause. “Because guys my age suck.” You breathe. “Well yeah, but there’s got to be a reason. Have you ever even dated someone your age?” He asks. “Yes.” You breathe. “That’s the reason I don’t like them.” You laugh awkwardly. “What happened?” He asks. “Um..” you shift uncomfortably. He emerges from underneath the car, he’d finished up already. He leans up against it, crossing him arms. You’re sitting on a bench by his toolbox. “Go on.” You sigh. “Tried to pressure me into having sex with him. I wasn’t interested.” John nods his head. “That’s it?” He asks. You groan. “No. He was controlling. Wouldn’t let me wear shorts, monitored my social media, told me my thighs were too big and that he didn’t like my stretch marks. And I know it could be all guys but older men have been much kinder to me than guys my age.” John smiles. “Sweetheart.. I hate to break it to you.” He adjusts his beanie that he’s wearing. “But guys will be nice to you no matter what if they want something from you.” His eyes travel to the sweet spot between your legs, noticing you shift yourself uncomfortably. He can see the way you’re sitting now, eyes filling with tears. He feels like an asshole. You probably weren’t ready to hear that.

“Not all of them. Especially if I don’t tell them that I’m a Virgin to begin with.” You avoid his gaze. He nods his head. “Y/N. You’re a sweet girl and I’m not trying to be a prick here. But all men have some kind of flaw, even your dad does. I can be mean when I don’t want to be.” He shrugs. “You have to find someone you tolerate the most, because we all suck.” He laughs. “I didn’t mean to upset you, darling.” He moved toward you, placing his hand on your thigh. “It’s okay.” You mumble. “I can be mean too.”

He smiles, looking down. “Did you only touch me because.. because you want to use me?” You look up at him. “No, no.” He breathes. “I gave you a bad example.” He sighs. “What happened between you and I Y/N.. it wasn’t right. I wasn’t right to touch you like that.” He chuckles. “I’m not right for you, you deserve far better than anyone like me. The reason I brought this up is just because I don’t think anyone will be good enough for you. You’re the perfect, pretty, bratty girl.” He smiles. “And you deserve the fucking world.” His hand is still on your thigh, he’s close to you. “John?” You look up at him. “Yeah?”

“You said what happened was bad..” he nods his head. “Am I a bad girl if I liked it?” You bite your lip. Your tone of voice, the way you’re looking up at him. It’s killing him. He hisses under his breath, the way you’re looking at him should not be allowed. It’s pure sin. “No. Because it feels good. It was wrong of me to put you in that position.” He breathes. You sigh. “I liked it.” You breathe. “I think about it all of the time, try to replicate the way I felt myself but I can’t even come close.” You whimper, pushing your hips toward the end of the bench, clenching your thighs together. His eyes travel down, seeing your reaction to just the thought of him alone. He turns away from you, he needs to get the fuck out of here before he does anything else. “You’ll learn. It’s best you figure out what your body likes best before you trust someone else with it.” He reassures you. You nod your head. “It’s been years and nothing makes it feel better.” You laugh. A part of you knows that you’re teasing him. But another part of you doesn’t realize just how hard you’re making him. “What do you mean?” He asks. “I.. I’ve been getting this.. tightness in my stomach. I didn’t know that.. it was.” You blush. “I didn’t know it was because I was turned on. Until I was talking to some friends at school a couple years ago and heard them talking about sex and what felt good. No matter how I touch myself, it just doesn’t feel right.” You breathe. “But.. when you did it..” you shift in your seat. “Changed everything.” You breathe. You’re a horny mess on his bench right now, and he’s doing everything he can to hold himself back.

He notices your dad pulling out of your driveway though the small window in his garage, off to work. Your mom had already left for her night shift job as well.

You were completely alone with John. For hours.

“What does it feel like?” You ask. Looking up at him. He moves forward, sitting next to you on the bench. Turning himself toward you. “What?” He asks. “Sex?” You chew on your lip. “For me? It’s amazing. It feels.. you know how I touched you? It feels like that but a hundred times better.” He breathes. “But for you? It’ll hurt. Because you’re still a Virgin.” He sighs. “Does it always hurt?” You ask. “No, just the first time. The second time may be a little uncomfortable. Your body just has to get used to it.” He explains. “How bad does it hurt?” You look up at him. “It.. it depends.” You tilt your head. Looking confused. “Depends on the size of your partner.” He avoids your curious gaze.

John had to clench his eyes closed so that the thought of you, whimpering as you take him down travels through the depths of his mind. “Would you take advantage of me?” You ask. “What? Of course not.” He breathes. You reach out, grasping his hand and pulling it into you. Setting it onto your thigh. “Y/N.” He breathes. His chest is tight. He hasn’t felt this riled up in forever, how on earth you’re making him feel like this is beyond him. It’s wrong, so wrong.

“I can’t stop thinking about it, John.” He draws his hand away from your thigh, pushing it up passed your cheek. Resting it there. “I was wrong. To touch you like that. I shouldn’t have done what I did.” He breathes. He can feel the frustration radiating off of you. “Please..” you mewl. “I can’t do it, no matter what I do.” You whimper. You’re breaking him. He sighs. Placing his hand down on your thigh. Sliding it up a little bit. “It’s wrong darling. I don’t want to take advantage of you, you’re just desperate.” He breathes. You climb up into his lap, breathing out as you straddle one of his thighs. “Shit-“ he breathes. You rock your hips into his thighs, whimpering at the friction you feel. He hisses at the warmth between your legs. He can’t keep it together anymore. Something about you using him to get off just sends him spiraling. He rests his hands on your hips, pushing your dress up onto your hips. He guides you into him, groaning out. “John..” you whimper. “Yeah?”

“I want to know what it feels like.” You look up at him. “What?”

“Sex.” You whimper. He holds your hips steady. Looking deep into your eyes. “Y/N.” He sighs. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into. I’ll hurt you, real bad.” He breathes. “I trust you, John. I want you to do it.” You breathe. “You said so yourself, you wouldn’t take advantage of me.”

He sighs. “Of course not, but.. this is so important and it should be with someone you love.” You look up at him. He sighs at the look you have in your eyes, gleaming so bright, so full of trust for him. He feels like a creep for having such relations with you. He lifts you up, walking you inside of his house. He sits down on his couch with you still in his lap, looking at you. “I can help you out, but you should save yourself for someone special. Yeah?” You nod your head. He moves your panties to the side, rubbing gentle circles into your clit and you whimper, rocking your hips into his hand. He circles your wet hole with one of his fingers and pushes it into you. You grind down into his finger.

“So desperate..” He trails off, admiring you. You’re basically riding his fingers and he’s enjoying it, lifting his hand into you. “John.. please.” You whimper. “Baby.. you don’t know what you’re asking for.” He chuckles at your desperation. You look at him, wiggling away from him. “What are you doing?” He asks. You slide down onto your knees and his eyes widen when you slide your hands up his clothed thighs. He rests his hands at his sides, letting you do this even though he knows he shouldn’t let you. “Do you even know what you’re getting yourself into?” He smirks down at you. You glare up at him, that same bratty attitude showing through.

John never thought he’d see the day, you’re pouting because he won’t take your virginity.

You nibble at your lip nervously as you unbutton his jeans, they needed to be washed because he smelled like gear oil and dust but something about him, dirty hands, messed up hair since he’d discarded his beanie somewhere between here and there. He looked messy and that’s enough to want him. Aside from the fact that he’s who he is. The first man that’s ever put his hands on you, drew fire into your skin and put it out with his cold touch. You’re zoned out as you work his cock from his jeans, thinking about that day on his boat. What he did to you. What he started. He lit a fire inside of you that day, made you crave him. You can’t sleep without thinking of him. Can’t eat without imagining him and his tongue and the way he devoured you like it was the tastiest meal ever put in front of him.

His fingers moving through you expertly, painting out the finest art, drawing the sweetest symphony from your lips and calming the harshest ocean brewing in your stomach with just a swirl of his tongue.

Your breath hitches in your throat when you reveal him to you for the first time and you’re realizing exactly why he’s said what he said.

You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.

But there’s some beauty in the unknown right?

You take the tip of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue over the tip, and his eyes widen. A gasp leaves his lips as you suck gently on the tip, taking him further and further with each bob of your head. “Huh- oh fuck-“ he breathes. Hands clutching at the cushions of his couch. You’re nervous to do something wrong, worried about hurting him.

The lewd noises coming from your lips as you suck him harder, his eyebrows raising as you cup his balls, showing them some attention too. He lets his head rest back onto the couch. Wrapping a hand in your hair, guiding you to take him further down. “You’re so pretty.” He breathes. “Such a good girl, could fool me with how good you are at this.” He smiles, knowing his praises egg you on more and more. He rests one of his arms over the back of his couch and when you look up at him, pretty eyes, gleaming with need. He’s got his answer.

He pushes you off of him, nearly busting right then and there with that look in your eyes. He lifts you up, helping you wrap your thighs around his waist. He holds you into him, only one arm wrapped around your back. He walks with you back into his bedroom. The walls are a dark grey color, silk sheets to match. He has dark curtains that keep the daylight out and he sets you down on the edge of his bed. He grasps the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. You don’t fully register what’s going on, but excitement settles into your stomach because a part of you knows what he’s going to do to you. “I can’t imagine fumbling a girl like you.” He breathes. Pushing you back onto his bed. “I just realized through all of this I haven’t even kissed those pretty lips yet, such an asshole of me.” He breathes. He hovers over you, leaning into you and kissing you. He holds a hand over your throat, not putting an pressure against you but holding you still as he attacks your lips with his. You’re a mess, turned on and desperate for him. His facial hair scratches you, leaving a permanent burn behind as he pulls away. He cups your breasts through your dress, massaging them gently. He kisses your bare chest, moans slipping passed your lips. He pushes your dress up onto your hips, pulling you forward so that he can help you take it off. He missed the sight of you, exposed to him. “If I would’ve been your age, had a chance to be with a girl like you…” he trails off, shaking his head with a laugh as he pushes your legs apart. “I would worship the fucking ground you walk on darling, and you’re telling me they’re out here- insulting the sexiest parts of you..” he kisses down your stomach, the attraction you feel for him is overwhelming, you want his hands on you.

You want him between your legs.

Your wishes are granted as he presses a gentle kiss to your clit and a whimper leaves your lips. At long last, he’s finally touching you again. Panties pulled to the side.

It doesn’t last long. He laps at your entrance with his tongue for just a couple minutes before he’s pulling away, licking his lips. “If I do this..” he breathes, moving himself up the bed once more. “You can’t take it back.”

You nod your head. “I know.” You whimper. He sighs.

He’s an awful friend. An awful person.

He pushes his jeans down the rest of the way, pulling your panties down your legs, discarding everything between the both of you, in the way of him taking what’s his.

“I’m a little out of practice. I have nothing..” he breathes. “It’s okay.” You look up at him.

He spits in his hand, slicking up the tip of his cock. Pushing your legs up on him and brushing the tip of his cock over your opening. Your heart is pounding in your chest, pumping blood through you at a rapid rate. “I’m going to hurt you okay? You just have to get through it once and I promise I won’t hurt you anymore.” You nod your head. “I trust you John. It’s okay.”

He’s such a scumbag. He’s got to be at his lowest. He shouldn’t be doing what he’s doing.

But he can’t pull away from you. He’s too far gone.

He pushes the tip of his cock through your folds and you clutch hard at the bed as he starts to slide himself into you more. He’s surprised how easy it is despite the way you’re clamping down around him. “Fuck.. you’re so wet pretty girl.” He gasps. A whimper leaves your lips as he slides deeper, a sob leaving your lips as he wraps his arms tight around you and burying himself into you in one deep thrust. You’re shaking a little bit, he knows it hurt. Knows how uncomfortable you are. Tears are gathering in your eyes, filling up the channel of your tear ducts. “It’s okay darling. It’s over.” He breathes. He nudges your cheek with his nose, kissing you as an attempt to soothe you. You’re panting hard, biting your lip.

That’s it.

His cock is nestled inside the tight cavern between your legs. He’s taken it.

He slides out of you, and you clutch at his blanket, whimpering out. Tears stream down your cheeks. “It’s alright baby. You’ll get used to me. Just relax.” He kisses you again, rocking his hips into yours. He’s going slow, letting you get used to the way your walls wrap around him. It takes a few minutes but eventually, you’re pushing him away from you slightly, widening your legs so that you could see him, all of him. His cock is wet, a little bit of your blood from the tear but mostly your arousal and you’re watching him slide into you.

“Oh my god-“ you whimper. “I.. I feel so full.” You cry. He chuckles at your reaction. “Yeah.. you’re taking all of me.” He smiles. Pushing your thighs up so that you could see him disappear inside of you, burying his cock to the hilt. “Fuck.. I can’t believe.. you just took my-“ you moan out when he picks up his pace. “Your pussy is so fucking sweet.” he shakes his head, in complete disbelief that someone could feel this good. He speeds up his pace even more, you can’t keep yourself together at the feeling of him. You’re a mess, moaning out, whimpering his name. Just like he imagined you would be. He rests his hand on your lower stomach, holding you steady. He lowers his hand, pressing the pad of thumb against your clit, smiling at how swollen it is. You’re so horny, so needy for him. He rubs gentle circles into it, knowing how easy you’re going to get overstimulated. “You’re such a brat.” He chuckles. “My spoiled little brat. Can’t make yourself cum so you have me do it all for you.” Your eyes are closed and your head is tilted back but you’re smiling. “Are you complaining?” You giggle. “Not at all.”

A gasp leaves your lips as he pushes down on your clit harder. Feeling your hips squirm away from his touch. He feels you clench down around him, and he knows you’ve got to be close. He tilts his head back, adams apple bobbing as he swallows hard, he’s got a death grip on your thighs. “John!” You mewl. “That’s it baby. Cum for me. Cum on my cock.” He breathes.

Those 4 words, you’ve heard in every filthy movie you’ve ever seen, never imagined that you’d ever hear them for yourself, from John Price, your dads best friend of all people. You’re tumbling over that abrupt edge, coming around him with the loudest moan you’re sure you’ve ever let out. You’re clamping hard down around him. Pussy pulsing around him. It’s the hardest you think you’ll ever cum, vision going white. John shivers at the tightness of you, barely remembering to pull out of you as he reaches his own orgasm, gritting his teeth as he coats your stomach in thick white ropes of his cum.

He relaxes, taking in deep breaths. “Fucking hell.” He pants.

He smiles, turning his head away from you to hide the way he blushes at the sight of you. Watery eyes, swollen lips. Your cheeks are flushed red. You look completely fucked out.

He lays next to you, calming himself down.

He helps you get cleaned up and holds you close to him for a few hours, talking about random things until your eyes are growing heavy. “How about we go get you tucked in Ah?” He smiles. He’s let you borrow one of his shirts, and you swim in it. It smells like him.

You nod your head. “I want you to stay but.. we’d both fall asleep and your dad would freak out.” He laughs. You smile at him. “Damn right he would. Thank you for working on my car John.” You smile. He leads you out to his garage once more. “No problem. If it has anymore issues just let me know. I’ll take care of you.” He kisses your lips one more time before you climb inside. He opens the garage door and you pull out, giving him a small wave.

His touch lingers on you, traces of his fingers where they permanently etched into your skin.

This was a night you’ll never forget.

@sonyanightmare @kou00 @queen-ilmaree

#call of duty mw2 #soap mw2 #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #captain john price #price mw2 #alejandro mw2 #captain price #johnny soap mactavish #mw2 smut #john price x reader #john price

[simplymarr]

Chapter one.

summary: vincent renzi x fem!reader.

A young law student is navigating her last year in university, where she meets a misteryous french professor that is going to help her getting her thesis done. A strong chemistry and a love for books and hard work it's what gets them to work so well with each other. But how much are they going to resist when temptation arrives?

warnings: age gap (legal ofc) he's 43 and she's 26. Other that that, none (yet).

London. 8 am and a room full of people on a rainy day. Cold fingers on the desk, waiting for something to happen.

I looked over and the clock was still; maybe it was broken or maybe the time was way too slow in the morning. Even for me.

Today it was the last-first day i was going to have on that university. Five long years studying law, yet it felt like i was still a stranger in that big, cold classroom.

I was, finally, going to get my thesis done. No more wasting time, no more fear. I had to be strong.

How difficult could it be?

The world with its unique, hidden irony seemed to have answered my question when, all of a sudden, he walked through that old, wooden door.

Mature, maybe in his early forties. Tall but not too much; quite skinny. Long neck and serious countenance. Silver hair, some strands fell on his forehead as he walked across the room until he reached his desk. His polished clothes didn't look wet even though it was raining, and even for me to be so far away from him i could, somehow, sense that he smelled like cigarrettes and old fashioned, classic cologne.

Professor Vincent Renzi was his name.

He came from France. He said that he had recently won a case in the city, and that a colleague of his needed him to replace him for a few months at the university. A two-hour weekly class and, most importantly,

he was in charge of correcting some of the theses.

I hesitated the rest of the class, unsure of what was going to happen. Would he be easy on me? or would he be an idiot? After all, all male professors in law school seemed to treat women like they were not smart enough to be there. Or worse, like they fucked their way to the top.

Suddenly my feet stepped on earth again when i felt a deep voice making, in a strong french accent, a question that no one dared to answer.

"So, has anyone already started working on their thesis?"

Silence.

Then, for inertia or maybe an obscure, unconscious desire to be seen by his blue eyes i raised my hand.

He smiled at me; perhaps relieved that he hadn't been ignored. Little wrinkles formed on each side of his mouth as he spoke:

"Great, at least someone is doing their job. Now, enlighten me, please".

........................................

I tried to leave as soon as the class ended.

Maybe it was the shame, the blushed cheeks as i explained to him the central themes of the thesis. For the first time, i felt like my tongue wasn't mine as the words kept coming out of my mouth, but i felt grateful for that.

However, due to how far away i was from the exit, i was the last one to leave. I slid between each seat until i reached the door where, luckily for me, he was standing, waiting.

"That was good. Very good actually". He said as he reached out for a pack of cigarettes between his pockets.

I stuttered.

"Well, thank you. There's still some issues i need to fix, you know. References and stuff". I tried, without luck, to sound as calm as possible.

"That's why im here". He said, staid but in a soft tone.

As he left the building and got into his car, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear and lighting a cigarette, i couldn't help but wonder

what the hell was i getting into.

next chapter soon

#vincent renzi x reader #vincent renzi #swann arlaud #swann arlaud fanfic #anatomy of a fall

[lostberet]

°˖ ⊹ ꒰🌱꒱ ♡ RECKLESS

Love is hard to maintain, especially if you are in love with your best friend, the one who has mentioned having his eyes set on someone. And that someone isn't you.

✒ pair. Kim Namjoon x reader 🎧song. happier ;; olivia rodrigo disclaimer. unrequired love, miscommunication, heart-break, a little bit of JungKook x reader, a little bit of yoongi side-story, jin being awesome. this is a work of fiction, obviously. english is not my first language. a/n. I am still sick, I hope I don't die soon. Also, I'm looking for mutuals!

part II || masterlist || entry

You held the hem of your sweater, gulping as you looked around the crowded Plaza. You bit your lip as you pulled your phone out, checking the time, 3:34pm. You tilted your head a bit to the side, you wouldn't be surprised if NamJoon didn't show up on time, or got lost.

You let out a soft sigh with a smile, you always found him to be so unintendedly funny. Although his smartness was one of the categories that made him attractive, his careless side also made him attractive. Yeah, he is attractive. But he's also your friend.

The smile you had vanished as you concluded your thoughts. You couldn't like him, he already had someone in mind and he told you that already. It broke you, but you only nodded and showed excitement toward him. See, apart from NamJoon being your crush, he was also your role model. You thrived to be or at least have half his maturity.

You flinched at the simple touch of your shoulder, turning to see JungKook smiling down at you, "Hey, you come here often?"

"Shut up." You giggled as you lightly elbowed his rib, causing him to lower his arm to block the hit, "I'll take that as a no."

With a permanent smile on your face, you shook your head. "No, but for real, what are you doing here?"

"I was actually waiting for NamJoon. We were supposed to look for new furniture for my place, but, I don't think he's coming." You started, letting out a sigh, "I understand, he can be busy, but a heads up could have been nice instead of making me wait 30-plus minutes."

"Ay," JungKook cooed, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into a side hug, "He'll make it up to you, he always does! I can help you look around, you can take pictures and you can show it to him."

You let out a chuckle, wrapping your arm around JungKook, returning the side hug, "You're right, gguk."

He chuckled back, rubbing your arm as he pulled you to walk with him. Both of you failing to notice the eyes that followed you both.

NamJoon, who only locked his jaw as he saw both of you leave, let out a soft sigh before turning the other way and leaving the plaza. In his defense, JungKook is amazing. Way better than him, he thought. Although he was the youngest, JungKook thrived in everything he did, he was just simply better.

Same thoughts were mutual, you bit your lip whenever he would rant about anything of his interest or what caused him curiosity. He would simply smile and listen to what you had to comment.

He never wanted to make you feel dumb around him, in fact, he wanted you to feel like you could rely on him. Yet his stupid mouth would say things that didn't make you understand or cause miscommunication.

Like the time Jin invited you out for dinner along with NamJoon, HoSeok, and TaeHyung, you had finished up at work and had run to the restaurant, still in your business attire. It was the first time your friends had seen you so formally.

"Wow!" yelled HoSeok as he laid eyes upon you, "Oh hush, Hobi."

You rolled your eyes, yet when TaeHyung turned his head to look at you, he gasped, "Oh my, you just took my breath away.."

"Shut the fuc-" You raised your hand to smack TaeHyung on the head, but SeokJin stopped you as he asked for the food to be brought out. TaeHyung letting a breath of relief as you shot him a glare when you sat down next to him.

"Just left work, right?" NamJoon asked you, smiling. You nodded as you removed your blazer, making SeokJin whistle.

"Come on, let's admit it, they look very stunning right now!" SeokJin mentioned, TaeHyung nodding along as HoSeok hummed as he took a sip of his soda.

"Not really," NamJoon, shook his head, "I've seen better."

HoSeok spits his drink, causing him to cough. TaeHyung's mouth fell open and SeokJin's eyes widened.

Flinching at the kick under the table by SeokJin, NamJoon choked, turning to look at you, "In the sense of-"

"No, you're right. This isn't my finest outfit." You commented, pressing out a smile as you took a sip of your water.

For the rest of the night, NamJoon didn't dare talk to you, embarrassed and ashamed of what he had mentioned. Truth be told, he liked your everyday clothing, the ones that made you feel more relaxed, more like you. Although you looked breathtaking in business attire, he liked you.

In your perspective, you assumed he has seen better. It's probably one of the factors that caught his eye when he ended up having his crush. Your heart broke a little, and you kept taking small sips of water to stop your lips from trembling, something you noticed you did when you wanted to cry.

It was never-ending.

NamJoon had noticed how nervous he would get each time he saw you, always saying or doing something stupid, making you confused or uncomfortable. And without him knowing, it was hurting you.

He hated how you would look so bright when greeting him, how he would say something dumb that caused your smile to vanish. And he hated how each time he tried to apologize, you would smile at him and tell him it was okay. It wasn't.

NamJoon had grown to believe you had left him for JungKook. He would see you slowly start hanging out with him more.

Yes, it was probably because you two were around the same age. Yeah, probably because you both had similar hobbies too. Or probably because JungKook just knew what to say to make you laugh, something NamJoon hadn't done in a while now.

It hurt him. It really did. But if his younger brother had found feelings for you and you for him, he wouldn't get in the way. For crying out loud, he was the mature one, he was the one fucking everything up too.

You had asked him a few times about this person he's been keeping his eye on, you believed if you knew who it was, it would potentially cause you to move on faster. Yet, whenever you tried bringing it up, NamJoon would just stare at you, clenching his jaw. You would only take a deep breath and nod your head, "okay."

Clearly it was someone you knew, but who?

...

Thinking about it.. maybe it wasn't a good idea to know who the person was.

You had caught NamJoon in a phone call, happily chatting away with someone. He had asked you to grab him a drink, and here you are, returning to him on a call. He glanced over and saw you, saying bye and ending the call.

"Who was it?" you asked, handing him his bottle as you scrunched your nose in a teasing way, "No one," he replied.

He opened his bottle and before taking a sip, he continued, "Don't worry about her."

NamJoon mentally patted himself in the back at the comment, thinking his words were right. they weren't.

You frowned a bit, nodding, "Oh, okay.."

You had started to grow annoyed with NamJoon. Ever since the incident with the phone call. If he wanted time to talk to his crush, he could have just told you, instead of bossing you around to have his alone time.

Unintentionally, you started avoiding him. What was the point? you thought. He would get busy on his phone anyway, texting or getting a call. It upset you, or were you just too jealous of the attention it was taking away from you?

NamJoon had found himself desperate, running to his older brother asking for advice.

"Hung, I don't know what's going on." NamJoon would groan as he sat on the couch in the resting room. SeokJin would just shake his head as he would eat his chips, "That's the problem, you don't know what's going on!"

YoonGi entered the room, went to the fridge, and got a drink before sitting down next to SeokJin, "Hyung, elaborate, please."

SeokJin just raised his hands in the air before making them fall on his lap, defeated. He then turned to look at YoonGi, "Your turn to raise him."

"What are we even talking about?" YoonGi frowned, SeokJin groaned, "NamJoon's horrible communication skills."

NamJoon shot SeokJin a glare, YoonGi only nodded, his mouth forming an 'o' shape.

"Well," He started, "Your communication skills are horrible."

NamJoon rolled his eyes, "That's not help-"

"That is why you need to be more elaborate with what you say and do," YoonGi interrupted, "a lot of situations need context, and if you don't explain yourself, a lot of things can go wrong."

"Even when you think you did the right thing," YoonGi mutters, looking down at his bottle, "you have to look at it from the perspective of the other."

NamJoon swallowed the lump in his throat, recalling all the times he did you wrong.

"Nobody is a mind reader," YoonGi sighed, "but, if you understand the person, you can feel and know what they're trying to tell you."

YoonGi, dropped his hands on his lap, looking at NamJoon, "You wouldn't want someone to be so reckless with your heart."

NamJoon nodded, standing up and walking out, before returning, "Thanks, Hyung."

Once NamJoon left, YoonGi leaned over the counter, his elbows resting on the table, "Who hurt you?"

YoonGi looked over at SeokJin, "Huh?"

"Scratch that, who did you hurt?"

NamJoon tried calling you, but it would go straight to voicemail. He cussed under his breath, feeling disappointed.

He heard a few voices coming down the hall, and out of instinct, he hid.

"Oh! I know!" a male voice explained, which NamJoon recognized to be JungKook's, "There's this new tteokbokki place that just opened, wanna go?"

"gguk.." you groaned, NamJoon's eyes widening a bit, "It'll cheer you up! You don't have to worry about big meanie NamJoon-Hyung."

JungKook continued, making you shake your head, "Okay, fine, but I can't stay too late, I have work tomorrow."

"There you go! Let's go!" He cheered as he hooked his arm with yours and walked to the elevator, "Please don't tell hyung I called him a meanie, I really -"

The voices faded as the elevator doors closed, causing NamJoon to sigh a bit. It broke his heart. Really it did. The fact that he had tried being the person your relied on and asked for help, but ended up being the least person you wanted to lean on. You had turned your back on him, like he had turned his back on you. Then again, how can you be so reckless with someone's heart?

masterlist | entry

part 2?

#bts #x reader #kpop #namjoon #kim namjoon #namjoon x reader #bts rm #bts angst #bts army #rm x reader #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts x y/n #namjoon x y/n #namjoon x you

[vintagepascal]

yours in the morning

word count - 11k+ (lord help me, so sorry this took so long)

rating - mature, minors DNI

content warnings/tropes - violence, threats to life, angst, children in dangerous situations, enemies to lovers if you squint, cat calling, sexual harassment, guns, smut, kidnapping its an emotional rollercoaster okay

summary - in a desperate attempt to save yourself, you end up kissing Javi in a bar, which puts you in enough danger that he feels like he needs to protect you... if he can

———————————————————————-

All you had wanted was one fucking drink. And you’d earned it too - after the day you’d had, no one would have judged you for downing your vodka the way you just had in the bar behind you. They may have given you a bit of a look for the second one, but fuck it. Your self defense instructor from back in the states, however, would have much to say about where you were now. 

Walking the streets of Colombia at any time could be seen as dangerous, especially as a foreigner who stuck out like a sore thumb, but you weren’t doing yourself any favors tonight. Purse on your hip, still in your work scrubs, by yourself as the sun set behind the town lights, with a ten minute walk home ahead of you.

Textbook bad move.

Of course, you weren’t a total idiot. You had a few tricks up your sleeve that you could use in a pinch if you had to. But most days you were smart enough to avoid getting yourself into a situation where you would have to worry. Straight to the hospital and straight home, in the daylight if you could help it.

Tonight was not one of those nights, and it seemed that luck was not on your side. Even with the bit of fuzziness in the edge of your vision, you noticed the three men leaned up against the car immediately. They were a few blocks away, but you took note, pretending to look busy and crossing the street quickly. 

The knot in your stomach tightened when the tallest of the three stood up, beginning to move in your general direction. It was only then that you noticed the car. Raised bed, nice tires, new rims. There were only a few people in Colombia who drove cars like those, and everyone knew it too. 

Bile began to rise in your throat. Suddenly, the ever present humidity was even more stifling, the exhaust of the cars and constant haze of cigarette smoke choking the oxygen out of the air all around you.

The women in Colombia had a code, even for outsiders. You never, ever, went with anyone in the cartels if you could help it. But if they took you? You did what they asked, and you didn’t fight, or you’d never make it. Rule number one was to avoid it at all costs. 

“Aye, preciosa, ¿a dónde vas?” One of them called out. You kept your eyes down on the pavement, quickening your steps. Could you make it to your apartment?

No, that would be a stupid move. You couldn’t lead them to your house. You racked your brain for any safe havens between where you were and the safety of your place. It was true that the embassy wasn’t far, but that seemed like a bit of a stretch, and you knew they wouldn’t let you get that far. In the distance, you saw the faint lights of La 40, the bar closest to your place. Surely you could make it there.

The men were enjoying the chase. You chanced one glance behind you and sure enough, they were on your heels. You could barely hear their catcalls over your heartbeat in your ears.

Just get to the bar, just get to the bar and find someone, make them think you’re with someone, find someone who will help you, just get there, just get there, you chanted mentally over and over. 

A hand grabbed your shirt, yanking you backwards momentarily. You felt something rip, shred, and you didn’t stop to think. You shoved at them as hard as you could, the keys in your hands puncturing skin hard enough to startle, giving you a chance to break free. And you started to run, full speed, towards the purple lights of La 40, practically bursting through the doors when you got there, not caring about the looks you got. You knew they wouldn’t be far behind you, and you didn’t put it past them to try to take you from there, especially since you’d drawn blood. 

In the few seconds you had to spare, you scanned through the bar. It was sparsely filled up with groups of friends, and the occasional lonely man. Sitting at the bar was the only one who looked the part you needed - handsome, alone, strong. He was nursing what looked to be a whiskey, and you could see a gun holster on his belt. 

Perfect.

You heard the men yelling behind you, and you weren’t sure if it was the vodka or the adrenaline that made your next move, but you didn’t hesitate. Instead, you walked straight across the bar to the man you’d found - who luckily had seemed to notice you as well - and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him in for a kiss.

Besides the obvious, you had an additional ulterior motive. By catching the stranger by surprise, you loosened him up enough to wiggle your way between his knees, turning the barstool so his body was between yours and the door, his gun on display for the men to see when they appeared moments later.

Your stranger played his part well. After his initial shock wore off, he melted just enough, one hand going to your waist to hold you steady when you pulled away, his other hand on his gun. And he was a damn good kisser, so you didn’t mind that he pulled you back in for another quick one, his mustache just the right roughness against your skin, his lips warm with the burn of whisky that lingered when he pulled back again to look at you.

“Hola, mi amor,” you said loudly, loud enough for the men in the doorway to hear. 

“Hola,” the man in front of you said cautiously, not chancing a look behind him. The panic must have been evident in your eyes, because he didn’t hesitate. “You okay?” He whispered to you. You nodded at him once, smiling when he brought a hand up to brush some of your hair behind your ear. You blushed at him, turning your cheek to kiss his palm.

His eyes flitted across your face, then down to your shirt. You followed them, drawing in a sharp breath. There was a gaping hole in your scrubs, and the place where your badge usually hung was entirely gone, as were your credentials. Your heart sank.

“My-my badge,” you whispered. The man in front of you looked confused for a moment, and then angry as he turned his head quickly towards the door. He watched as one of the men dangled your badge in the air and then disappeared out of sight. 

“Fuck,” he mumbled. “That’s got your hospital and your name? First and last?” 

You could only nod. You took a step back, disentangling yourself from him as soon as they were gone. With a huff, he took his leather jacket off the back of his chair, offering it to you. You weren’t cold, but you felt exposed enough to take it gratefully, shoving your arms through the sleeves. 

“Do you know them?”

“No”

“You didn’t meet them at the hospital? Are they patients of yours?”

“No, they just saw me outside. Saw I was alone I guess,” you muttered, the memory already making your skin crawl. You looked at your stranger, the disgust in his eyes obvious.

“I’m-I’m sorry about ambushing you like that.”

“Believe me, I didn’t mind. But -”

“They were following me, and I panicked. You seemed like the safest bet in here.” You explained further, already feeling guilty for getting him involved. Had you put him in danger? The thought made you sick.

The man sighed heavily, pinching at his forehead with his hand.

“Well sweetheart, you’re simultaneously really smart, and really, really god damn stupid. You know what they were driving?” 

“Red, four door. Maybe a Ford but I’m not sure.” 

“How many of them?”

“Three.”

“And they were just outside on the street?”

“Yeah. I was walking home from work.”

“Nurse?” You nodded.

“From the states.”

Another nod.

“What are you doing down here then?” 

“Everybody left after Escobar. But they still need people, there’s hardly any nurses here. I just wanted to help.” Your voice was smaller than you liked it to be, and you steadied yourself with a breath. “Wait, what about me picking you out makes me stupid?”

The man sighed before leaning back in his chair, reaching onto his belt loop for something beside his gun that you hadn’t seen. 

He pulled out a badge. 

DEA.

Fuck. 

“Agent Javier Peña, at your fucking service,” he chimed, picking up his glass. “And those guys out there are with Cali.” “The cartel.” It wasn’t a question. You slid back down into the seat next to him, burying your face in your hands. Fucking around with the cops in town never looked good on anyone. “They know who you are?”

“Everybody knows who I am,” Peña muttered, downing the rest of his liquor and raising two fingers at the bartender, pointing at you. Despite your urge to humble him, it was true - now that he had said it, you realized that you had seen him before, on TV. He was known for calling out the political connections of Cali, and he’d made several big arrests.

“Vodka, actually,” you corrected the bartender, rubbing at your eyes. “How bad is this for me?”

“Well, since you decided to jump my bones in front of some of the most dangerous men in Colombia, you just got yourself added to the hypothetical hit list, minus the protection of the US government.” 

“You’re kidding.”

He took the new glass of whiskey in front of him and tipped the rest of it back as his answer.

“So what the fuck am I supposed to do?” The bartender sat your glass down and you snatched it, downing it almost immediately. It burned the whole way, and you fought back the gag it threatened to unearth.

“Get on a plane and go home.”

“Not funny, Peña.”

“Not joking,” he shot back. “And it’s Javi.”

“Seriously. Can those guys really find me just from my badge?”

He looked at you incredulously. “They’ll have your address by the end of the night. You can’t go home. They might not go so far as trying to kidnap you, but you’d definitely be in danger of being attacked, especially since you got away from them. They don’t take well to losing. And now that they saw you with me, they’ll just assume you’re leverage to get to the DEA, which makes you priceless. They’re particularly pissed with me at the moment, so your timing is spot on.”

“I thought they didn’t mess with Americans. They always said it was too risky.” You couldn’t hide the hope in your voice.

Javi’s eyes were cold.

“That was Escobar. Cali plays hard ball.” 

You fought back the tears that threatened to spill over, pressing your palms into your eyes. It didn’t work, and the colorful mosaic of the bar top was blurry as you tried to settle yourself without much luck.

 When you finally looked back up, Javi was staring at you intently, as if he was trying to solve some sort of puzzle. His lips parted a few times with words unsaid before he sighed, running his fingers over his eyes before he looked at the ceiling in surrender and finally spoke. 

“C’mon. I’ll take you to your place to grab what you need and you can hole up at my apartment until we find somewhere for you to go.”

“What?”

“It’s my place or the embassy, who will just ship you home.” 

Javi dropped enough pesos on the bar to cover both of your drinks and stood up quickly. 

“Offers expiring cariño.” He reached for his jacket, remembered that you were still wearing it, and turned towards the doors without another word.

You didn’t see many other options besides standing up and following him out of the bar. To your surprise, he offered you an arm that you gratefully took, seeing that the room was partially spinning. How had your night turned into this? It didn’t feel real. But soon enough you were climbing into his car, watching him move around to the drivers side and giving him directions to your place. It would have been easier to walk with all the traffic on the roads, but you made it there quickly nonetheless.

“I can have a bag packed in 15 minutes,” you told him, but he caught your thigh with his hand before you could move. 

“You’re not going in there by yourself. Wait.” 

You tried to ignore the way your skin burned while you watched him climb out of the car, pulling his gun out of the back of his pants while he walked around to your door.

“Might as well play the part,” he muttered after he opened it for you, offering you a hand. You walked quickly with him, unconsciously squeezing his fingers as you walked down the hallway to your apartment door. 

“Let me clear it first,” Javi said, motioning for you to stay behind him and wait. You handed him your key, trying to control your breathing as he disappeared through your doorway, pulling you in behind him and placing you by the door. 

A few minutes later, he returned, gun still in hand.

“You’ve got ten minutes. I’ll keep watch.” 

He posted himself at the door, eyes already flitting back and forth across the corridor as you ducked inside. You didn’t have time to think- you grabbed your suitcase and began shoving your most worn clothes in, your scrubs, your makeup and everything from your shower. You hadn’t brought many comfort items from home, but you couldn’t stand the thought of leaving them behind. Into the bag they went, followed by a few pairs of shoes and your favorite blanket. 

You rolled the suitcase to the door and out to Javi. 

“That was fast, I’m impressed,” he chuckled, taking the handle.

“One more thing and I’ll be out.” 

You headed back inside quickly, reaching into the hall closet to find the carrier you’d only recently purchased. 

“Bear, cmon buddy, we gotta go, cmon,” you called out, peeking around the apartment until finally you spotted him, cowering in the corner of your bathroom. You felt awful having to grab him and push him into his carrier, but you knew it would all be forgiven once he was safe. You gathered his essentials as well and took them to the hallway before emerging with his carrier and closing the door behind you.

Javi’s eyes blew wide when you reappeared. 

“Is that a cat?”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“What?”

“You’re not bringing your fucking cat to my house.”

You raised an eyebrow at him and attempted to stand your ground by setting your feet, but you didn’t anticipate for the world to suddenly be spinning. The final of the vodkas had finally gotten to you it seemed.

“I’m too drunk for this conversation sir. Either take me and Bear, or leave me here to be disappeared or whatever the cali fucking cartel does to people,” you slurred with what you hoped was a smile, turning on a heel towards the car. A strong hand on your elbow turned you in the opposite direction and kept you from slamming into a wall. He was muttering in Spanish under his breath as he led you to the car, gruffly putting you in the front seat before locking the door and going back for your things - Bear included. 

You let your head rest against the cool glass of the window, hoping it would sober you up slightly on the drive. It served its purpose well enough, though the ride was short. You were able to at least carry Bear as Javi took your bags, eyes darting around as he hurried into an unassuming complex. Even drunk, you noticed that it took three separate keys to get in, and once you crossed the threshold you felt safe for the first time since you’d spotted the men on the street. 

Javi’s apartment was cooler than you expected - both in temperature, and in style. It was obvious that Uncle Sam was paying a pretty penny for a place like that so deep within Bogota, but you couldn’t quite be bothered about the details when you noticed that there was a nice leather couch in the middle of the living room. 

You began to walk towards it, and suddenly the tile floor was spinning up towards you.

“Jesus christ,” Javi muttered. There was a crash, presumably your suitcase falling as he dropped it, catching you instead. “You’re alright, I’ve got you” was the last thing you heard before the morning.

The first thing you noticed were the sheets. 

Silk. 

Definitely not your bed, and definitely not the couch. 

The lights were still out, but there was enough sunlight filtering through the blinds to illuminate the room and simultaneously hurt your eyes. The squint it caused immediately alerted you to your headache, causing you to roll over and bury your face in a pillow.

Something rough bit into your neck.

A zipper. A leather jacket zipper, from a man who you were suddenly very concerned about. 

You sat up quickly, head spinning a bit as you tried to scan the room, gather your surroundings. On the bedside table sat a glass of water and two small pills you recognized as advil. You took them gratefully, already feeling the pounding behind your temples. 

The air was chilly - a rarity in Colombia and a testament to the dedication of the AC unit you could hear whirring in the window. Even over the hum, you could hear the quiet clink of dishes in the kitchen. You pulled the sheets back, wrapping Javi’s jacket around yourself tightly and following the noise. Javi was in the kitchen, shirtless with his back turned to you. You couldn’t help but take the opportunity to stare at him. He was even more beautiful without the clothes - strong, sharp lines down his back that lead to the waistband of his pants. 

When he turned, you pulled your eyes up as quickly as you could, but his smirk let you know that it didn’t go unnoticed. 

“Buenos dias,” he hummed. 

“Good morning,” you blushed, pushing your hands into your pockets. “Thank you, for last night. I feel better than I deserve.”

“You’re welcome. Also, your kitten is a menace.” He frowned at you. 

“Sorry, he can be a bit shy around new people but he’ll warm up.”

Javi quirked an eyebrow at you and ducked down for a moment. When he stood back up, Bear was in his hand, gnawing on his finger. 

“Yeah, real shy. He’s been trying to make a meal out of me all morning. What’s his name again?” 

“Bear. At least, that’s what the woman who was feeding him in the street told me his name was. But that’s the only English word she said to me, so who knows if she was even giving me his name. He never responds to it anyways.”

Javi walked over towards you, sitting Bear down. He immediately greeted you, rubbing against your legs. 

“Oso,” Javi said. Bear immediately looked up, and you were surprised to see Javi smile. “We’re gonna have to start some Spanish lessons for you if you’re so intent on staying in Colombia. Which is still a terrible idea, by the way.” 

“I’m not leaving just because some assholes in the street decided to catcall me. They probably didn’t even recognize you anyways.”

Javi looked at you incredulously. 

“Do you know the first fucking thing about the cartel? Their reach? Any idea what the hell they’re capable of?”

His tone made your blood boil, both under your cheeks in a blush and in your fingertips, which gripped the edge of the counter. You didn’t take kindly to being spoken down to, especially hungover.

“Yeah actually, I do. I’m plenty aware of what both Cali and the DEA are capable of. Generally, when you all are raining bullets down in the middle of towns, I’m one of the nurses stitching up the aftermath.”

He was silent for a moment. Two pieces of toast shot up from the toaster on the counter, but only you jumped at the sound.

“All the more reason for you to just go home before it gets worse.”

“Who's to say they’re even going to come after me anyways? Javi, it feels like we're blowing this wildly out of proportion. So they saw me with you, big fucking deal. It doesn’t mean they’re going to target me - I know nothing about the DEA, or anything special about the cartel. I’m not actually important to you, and if they can really find all that information about me they’re going to figure that out pretty damn fast.” 

His eyes were cold when he turned to you. He looked as if he was ready to say something, but he stopped himself, thinking better of it. Instead he turned back around, putting one piece of toast on a plate and passing it to you, along with butter and a small jar of jam. 

You ate in silence, the tension palpable as you tried to think of the next thing to say. Javi seemed to be doing the same, stealing glances towards you that he thought you didn’t catch between bites of toast. 

You finally broke the silence. “I should just go home.”

“To the states? I’ll book your flight.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“It’s not an option.”

“Fine.”

Javi stopped mid bite, quirking an eyebrow at you. Obviously he expected more of a fight. You turned on a heel and went back into the bedroom in search of your suitcase. It wasn’t hard to find - Javi didn’t have many things to begin with, and your bag stuck out like a sore thumb. You ignored the wrinkles in your scrubs as you pulled them on, wrapping your hair up in a bun and promising yourself a good shower later as you finished getting ready.

You knew that getting out the door wasn’t going to go smoothly. So you set your jaw and took a deep breath before you opened the door, not looking away from the exit as you headed straight for it. 

He was quicker than you thought. 

His hand hit the door just as you opened it, slamming it back shut.

“You don’t seriously think you’re going to work.” 

“Move, Javi.”

“Tell me you aren’t this stupid.”

“Move.” You repeated.

He didn’t budge, or warrant you with a response.

“If I realized that going with you last night meant being kept prisoner in here, I would have picked differently.”

“Yeah? And your night would have ended very, very, differently.” 

You chose to ignore that jab. 

“We have security at the hospital. I’ll tell them what’s happening, they can keep an eye out for me. And I’ll come straight back here after if that makes you feel better.”

“This isn’t about making me fucking feel better, Y/N. It’s about keeping you alive. Cali owns this entire fucking town, they probably are the security at the hospital.”

“Then what the hell do you suggest I do Javi? And if you say go back to the states one more fucking time, I swear to god-”

“Just…” He leaned up against the door frame, pinching the bridge of his nose like he had the night before. “Just give me a day or two. Call in today, let me get some stuff arranged and we can figure it out.”

Every part of you wanted to argue with him - it burned hot in the back of your throat, but there was something in his eyes, something earnest and true. 

Why do you care so much?

You chose your next words carefully. “Figure what out, exactly.”

“How to keep you safe.” 

“Fine.”

“Fine?” He obviously didn’t trust you after your earlier stunt in the kitchen. 

“Yes, Javi. Fine. I’ll give you today, and I’m already off tomorrow. But then I’m going back to work, one way or another.”

“Okay.” He looked you over a few times before turning back to the apartment and disappearing into his room. 

You wandered back towards the kitchen, busying yourself by cleaning up the plates from breakfast. Javi emerged shortly after in an outfit similar to what he was wearing the night before - devilishly tight jeans, with a bright red button down tucked in behind a belt, gun holster and badge on his hip and the outline of a pack of cigarettes in his pocket. 

“Phone is over by the table. Help yourself to whatever you can find, but there isn’t much. I’ll bring dinner later. Don’t leave the house, and don’t answer the door. Por favor,” he added sweetly at the end, throwing you a small smile before slipping out without another word. 

The next eight hours were boring to say the least. Javi’s apartment was the epitome of a bachelor pad. After you called in with the bullshit excuse of a stomach bug, you went on the hunt for something to entertain you for the day. The news was too depressing, every DVD you found was in Spanish, and otherwise, all you came across was liquor and various empty shelves in need of decor. It was obvious the man lived in his office and simply slept in his home, but you lucked out, finding an old English copy of Wuthering Heights tucked away on a shelf in his bedroom when you went to change out of your scrubs. 

It helped you pass the time, and Javi held true to his promise of bringing dinner home later that evening, coming through the door looking much more exhausted than when he’d left, with two paper bags in his hands. 

“Arepas,” he muttered, placing them on the counter. “Necesito ducharme, estoy asqueroso. Puedes comer sin mí.”

You stared at him for a moment over your book cover and he looked back, confused before he sighed. 

“Sorry. Long day. I’m gonna shower, I’m sweaty. Feel free to eat without me if you’re hungry.” 

“It’s alright, I’ll wait for you,” you answered, turning the page and pretending not to notice the way the sweat on his back made his shirt cling to his muscles. Damn. You really had picked a good one to follow home. 

Fifteen minutes later and he was back, rubbing a towel over his head as he spoke.

“Come eat, I’m fucking starving.” 

He was shirtless and in a pair of linen pants that took all of your focus to keep you from drooling over. They left little to the imagination, and you were grateful for Bear on your lap, or you may have gotten up embarrassingly quickly to follow him to the kitchen. 

There was a new energy buzzing around the apartment again - it had been faint in your haze last night, and you’d blamed it on the vodka but it was undeniable now. Unlike many others, you didn’t feel uncomfortable around Javi though. It was almost an excitement, a school girl nervousness that had you unwrapping your first arepa with your eyes cast down and afraid to look at him standing across the island from you. 

Javi was the one to eventually cut the tension. “So what’d you get up to all day?”

“I read mainly. Hung out with Bear. Or Oso I guess I should be calling him,” you chuckled. You’d only managed to find snack foods throughout the house, and the meal was welcome to your grumbling stomach. Javi didn’t hesitate to dig in, and somehow it was endearing to watch the crumbs get caught up in his mustache. Watching him be less than perfect broke his stoic persona. 

He looked back over at the couch, noticing your book choice.

“Are you a Brontë fan?” 

“It’s the only thing in English I could find. Are you is the more important question.”

He pondered it for a moment, eyes inquisitive as ever while he chewed before he shook his head. 

“I plead the fifth.”

“Uh huh. So, is it inappropriate for me to ask you what you did all day?” 

“Inappropriate?” He quipped around a bite of his barbacoa.

“I’ve heard you aren’t supposed to ask cops that. And, I’m not sure if you’re allowed to tell me anyways. Thought maybe it was top secret or something.”

That got your first true laugh out of him. “I don’t work for the CIA hermosa, it’s not highly classified. Mainly just run of the mill surveillance. Most stressful part of the day was watching your hospital, actually.”

“What were you doing at Marly?” You asked earnestly.

“I figured you’d be on my ass about when you could go back to work as soon as I walked in the door, so I’ve been trying to find an answer for you all day.”

You waited, chewing quietly. 

“They’re more lax than I’d like. But, there’s only your one main entrance and the ambulance bay, so if you can give good enough descriptions to your security guards they can probably keep you safe enough. Does anyone else know your work schedule?”

“My manager is the only one. It’s posted on the board when I get there so the other nurses know who is on the floor, but that’s required for safety. No one knows ahead of time though, so shouldn’t be a problem,” you reassured him before he could ask. 

He nodded at the new information, chewing through another bite of his arepa. The rest of dinner, and Javi’s two whiskeys, went down quietly, but you couldn’t help but tell him at the end of the night what had been on your mind since he’d gotten home. 

“Thank you. For doing all of this when you didn’t have to. I wasn’t fair to you earlier.” 

“You’re welcome.” His tone was sincere, and it made you relax. “It feels nice to help someone. Feels like all I’ve done since I came back down here is play damn politics. And I get it, it doesn’t feel good to be controlled.” 

“So… I’m forgiven?”

Javi gave you a true smile, and you felt your heart catch in your chest a bit.

“Forgiven, cariño.”

The rest of the evening went quickly, and suddenly you were faced with the realization that you’d forgotten about since that morning when you went in search of your suitcase.

Javi’s place was a one bedroom. 

You’d made up your mind by the time you’d brushed your teeth - over complicating things would be a bad move this early. And so you headed back to your couch, grabbing a blanket and towing it over to you. 

“Can I borrow a pillow?” 

“What for?”

“The couch.” 

Javi waited for an explanation, then laughed when he realized what you meant. 

“You don’t seriously think I’m gonna let you sleep on the couch, do you? Mi madre would roll over in her grave.” 

“I don’t see another option,” you murmured, picking at the fuzz on the edge of the blanket so you didn’t have to look at him. 

“I don’t bite cariño. We’re just gonna sleep, yeah? It’s a king bed, won’t even know there’s someone else there. Promise.”

If your pulse was any indication, you doubted that. But, you’d learned one thing for certain in your short time with Javi - he wasn’t one to back down from an argument. And so you sighed and brushed past him to the bedroom, avoiding looking at him as you climbed back into the bed you’d woken up in. You swore you heard him chuckle but you chose to ignore it, relieved when Bear jumped up onto the mattress and bumped up against your hand, giving you a welcomed distraction from Javi, who was looking around the room for something. Eventually, he grabbed his gun, his pack of cigarettes and a lighter, placing them carefully on his nightstand. 

He climbed into bed gently, as if he was afraid to jostle you. He did feel far away, but there was a tension between you, a rubber band someone could strum with the slightest flick of their finger. 

“Goodnight, y/n. I’ll try not to wake you up in the morning, I have to go in.”

“It’s fine Javi. Goodnight.” 

•••

The routine settled in as easy as a key in a well made lock. Javi drove you to work each morning you had a shift, and was there waiting for you like clockwork at 7pm on the dot when you left each evening. You shared dinner with Oso playing at your feet. After two weeks straight of arepas you’d finally demanded that Javi let you go to the market, which he of course demanded he accompany you to on his lunch break. But at least after that addition, on nights you didn’t work he came home to a fresh cooked meal, claiming that you ‘spoiled’ him. You felt it was the least that you could do considering you were living under his roof. Other small things changed. He brought home a few more books in English for you. You unpacked your suitcase. The space in the middle of the bed had gotten smaller. Some mornings you even woke up with a leg thrown over Javi’s, or your fingers touching under the sheets. Neither of you mentioned it. 

It was comfortable, and simple. 

Until it wasn’t.

He was supposed to be home at 6 that night. He wasn’t the most punctual of individuals, so you didn’t start dinner until close to it anyways. By 7, the pasta had gone cold, and by 8:30 you were pacing the living room, eyes darting towards the phone each time you walked past it. The last time he’d been running late he’d called, and that was when he was going to be home at 7:30. 

He’s probably just on a call. Surveillance. Maybe he had to travel. He’s fine. He’s fine. He’s fine.

By 9, you were searching every shelf in the house for some form of the Colombian yellow pages, desperate to find the number for the DEA, or the embassy, or anyone who could tell you where he was. 

You were so engrossed in your search that you didn’t even hear the first two locks on the door click. The third one was louder, and it was the only warning you had before the door burst open.

“Y/N!? Y/N! Where are you!?” Javi’s voice boomed louder than you’d ever heard it, echoing through the apartment. 

He found you before you could answer. You didn’t have time to process what you saw - his drawn gun, his wild eyes, the tear in his shirt or the blood running down his arm. It was all gone too quickly. All you could see was white linen, all you could feel was a strong arm around you as Javi held you to his chest in a bone crushing hug, the tightest you’d ever experienced despite him only using one arm. 

“Javi, what-”

Then he was dragging you, towards the door as he clicked the locks back into place one by one, sucking in each breath through his teeth as he held you against his chest, still checking his six, gun metal cold against the back of your shoulder, your face still pressed to his chest. 

“Are you okay?” He whispered to you, just loud enough for you to make it out. 

“I’m fine Javi, tell what’s happening,” you pleaded for an explanation. 

You smelled it then - that metallic smell that you associated with work, and usually chased quickly with bleach. 

Blood. The image of him running in came back to you and you fought against his grip and won, leaning back so you could see his arm. 

You knew a bullet graze when you saw one.

“You’re shot,” you breathed, brain clicking back on. “Why the fuck didn’t you go to the hospital, why did you come back here?” 

He didn’t answer. Instead he leaned forward, chest pushing into yours as he fished into his back pocket and handed you something square and white. 

Your knees buckled when you recognized it.

Your badge.

“What-”

“That was on the hood of my car. They’ve been watching us.” His eyes were still just as wild, his chest still heaving, and you were afraid he was going to collapse in the doorway. There was no way you could move him if he went down.

“You left out the part where you got shot,” you said, just to keep him talking. You weren’t sure you could take hearing him tell you about getting hurt. 

“Got ambushed trying to make it back here.”

“In your car?” He shook his head. Only then did you realize how sweaty he was.

“You ran here?”

“I lost them on the way,” he shifted his shoulder, then groaned, head rolling back. 

“You should have gone to the hospital Javi.”

“Had to know you were safe,” he panted. “Besides, I’ve got a nurse.” 

Despite all his pain, he offered you a smirk that made you want to smack him and kiss him simultaneously. Instead, you just shook your head and tucked yourself under his good arm, leading him over towards the bathroom as smoothly as you could. He winced the whole way, but you could tell he was trying to keep himself quiet for your sake. 

You had never been more thankful for your paranoia than you were when you pulled out your spare medical kit from under the sink. You’d seen too many accidents in the street, too many times where you didn’t have what you needed that you’d stocked up and vowed to always have the essentials. Sure, you’d rather have a hospital supply room, but you had enough to get him stable. 

Javi looked pale, leaned up against the porcelain edge of the bathtub as you scattered supplies around you, throwing anything you didn’t need out of your path in search of sutures and iodine, gauze and bandages. You ripped his shirt the rest of the way off his arm, panicking when he didn’t react. His eyes were screwed shut, sweat still pouring down his face.

“Javi, baby you gotta keep talking,” you muttered, opening the first package with your teeth. 

You received a hum in response, but nothing else until you poured the iodine on to disinfect the area. Javi’s good hand shot out towards anything he could grab as you began to dab at the wound. His fingers curled into your thigh hard enough to bite, but you didn’t care. 

“Tell me about Texas,” you demanded, moving to straddle his thigh and get a better angle - the bullet had grazed his bicep, and it wasn’t as deep as you had originally thought now that you’d cleared some of the blood. 

“Texas?” He mused, voice much weaker than you’d like.

“Tell me about Texas,” you repeated. “What’s it like there?”

“Hot.” He rasped. “Dry.”

“Good, that’s good Javi. Keep going. Where’s your favorite place in Texas,” you coached him as you pulled out a needle. It wasn’t going to be pretty, but you knew you were going to have to stitch him up if you had a hope of stopping the bleeding before he fully passed out on you. 

He began to murmur about the state while you prepped your sutures, the guilt already heavy in your stomach about the pain you were about to cause him. You let him talk about the Rio Grande and a trip with his dad, happy to hear his voice until you had to cut him off.

“Javi. I have to stitch you up. It’s going to hurt, but you have to sit still. Okay?”

He only nodded at you, eyes darting between yours until you broke away, leaning over him to brace against his arm, pressing the needle into his skin.

“Mierda,” he hissed, squeezing his eyes shut tight and your thigh tighter.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ll be done soon, Javi, I’m sorry.”

“S’fine,” he grit out through his teeth, but you could tell it was anything but. You tried your hardest to go as quickly and smoothly as you could, using every bit of medical training you had to stay calm and collected until the last suture was through and his skin was pulled back together. You tied it off, letting out the breath you’d been holding as you leaned back. 

“Done. It’s done. I just need to wrap it and I can let you rest.”

He only groaned in response - you could see his adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard, head still leaned back on the porcelain. 

“Gracias,” he murmured when he felt the gauze begin to wrap around his skin, taping it off as gently as you could. 

You stood up off of his lap, but he caught your ankle before you could move towards the door.

“Don’t.” Even as weak as he was, there was authority to his tone that made you listen. 

“I just need to clean up the blood, get some rags from the kitchen.”

“Use the towels. Don’t want you out of my sight.”

You were so relieved to hear him speak a full sentence again that you didn’t argue. Instead you grabbed the white towel and ran it under the water, wiping away the blood stains on Javi’s skin gently, methodically. When you looked up, he was watching you, his eyelids still heavy.

“You this nice to all your patients?” 

“I try to be,” you smiled despite having to switch to a new rag almost immediately, the first one saturated red.

“Maybe I should get shot more often.”

“Not funny Peña.”

“Not joking, Y/N.”

“Shhh,” you instructed. “Nurse’s orders.”

He obeyed, though you weren’t sure it was entirely a choice. He looked exhausted as you continued cleaning him up, your breath coming easier with each bit of skin you revealed from under the blood. 

When you were done with his arm, you surveyed Javi again. His pulse seemed stronger, his breathing more even. The adrenaline was wearing off, and in turn the exhaustion from his escapade was catching up to him it seemed. You used the last clean rag to clean his face, wiping away the sweat. He leaned into your palm a bit, grateful.

“We need to get you to bed Jav. Can you stand?”

“I can try,” he huffed, looking a bit sheepish. You got yourself settled under his good arm and heaved with all your might, glad that he was able to help as much as he was. His injured left arm hung practically dead next to him - he wouldn’t be able to use it much for a few days, that much you knew.

You led him to the edge of the bed, ignoring the butterflies it put in your throat to bend down and untie his shoes, slide them off his feet with his socks. Next was the remaining scraps of his shirt. You expertly unfastened the buttons, pushing the fabric off his broad shoulders gently and tossing it on the floor. 

“Stand up,” you instructed. You couldn’t look at him as you reached for his belt, pulled his gun out of his waistband and checked the safety the way he’d taught you before placing it on the bedside table. You’re just helping him. Just like a patient. You’re just helping. You repeated it over and over and you coaxed the leather of his belt through the loops of his pants, trying to ignore the way it set your core on fire. You unbuttoned his slacks quickly, careful not to touch more than you needed as you pushed the zipper down. They fell just enough and you were grateful to see boxers beneath - it wasn’t lost on you that Javi wasn’t a stranger to going commando, but he usually refrained at work.  You pushed them down from his hips, letting him steady himself on your shoulders as he stepped out of them. 

“This is humiliating cariño,” he whispered as you stood back up. 

“I doubt you’re going to remember it in the morning,�� you reassured him, but you hoped that he did. “Lay down, get some rest.”

“Stay in here. Need to know you’re safe.”

His words were already slurring as he followed your instructions.  You knew you could leave as soon as his eyes closed, get the bathroom clean, get him some water, but something about the sentiment pulled at you, and you couldn’t help it. You wanted to stay. 

“I’ll be right here Javi. I’m safe.” 

With his good arm he caught your hand, squeezing it weakly as if to reiterate it. 

“Stay.” 

You obliged him, climbing gently into your usual spot next to him, taking care not to jostle the mattress. Before you could overthink it, you placed a hand on the center of his chest, felt the rise and fall with each breath he took.  He was snoring after 15 rises, and you relaxed for the first time since he came in the door. 

Only then did you let yourself actually begin to process what had happened - picturing Javi with guns pointed at him by faceless men, your badge in their hands, his blood dripping behind him in the streets - you felt the tears begin to prickle. You let them fall for what felt like hours before you could finally understand that it was relief that caused them - relief and sadness and gratefulness and anger and… love. 

So in his peaceful sleep, you allowed yourself to touch him like you wanted to. You ran your fingers through his hair, dark strands soft against your skin. You even chanced a few traces along his face, down his nose, over his cheek and down his jaw, memorizing him. He stirred and you pulled back, not wanting to disturb his rest. 

He was peaceful for a few hours as you kept watch, and then things began to change. It started with his head - when he first turned towards you, you almost thought he was trying to cuddle. But he turned away just as quickly, muttering something in spanish. His movements grew faster, his breathing quickening as his arms started to tense up, wincing in pain as he strained his wound. You recognized it then. Nightmare.

“Javi, Javi hey, wake up, wake up,” you said, gently shaking his shoulder. You flicked the lamp on so you could see him better.

“No, no no don’t,” he groaned, and you watched as his good arm reached for the bedside table. 

As quickly as you could you climbed across him, knocking his gun out of reach. You weren’t sure if it was the weight of you on top of him or the crash of metal hitting the ground that startled him awake, but either one brought him up gasping and grabbing at you. 

“Javi! Javi it’s me, you’re okay, you’re okay,” you repeated, bracing on his chest. 

His eyes were wide as you came into focus, and to your surprise his hands immediately went to your face, cupping your cheeks. 

“Oh christ, you’re alive, oh gracias a Dios (thank god).”

And then he was kissing you. Desperate but somehow gentle, his lips were against yours, his neck strained up to reach you as you hovered above him, too shocked to move as he held you. When he pulled back and his head fell against the pillow, his eyes searched yours, darting back and forth as he brushed the hair from your face with gentle fingers. 

He moved his left arm too much chasing a strand, and the pain seemed to pull him back to reality, shock replacing the fear as he realized what he’d just done.

“I’m sorry mi amor, I had a dream you were dead… I should have asked, I-” 

You shook your head before he could finish stumbling through his words. 

“Ambushing each other is kinda our trademark, no?”

He gazed up at you for a moment, calculating his next words carefully. 

“If my memory serves me, you got two kisses in at La 40,” he hummed, hands moving slowly down your sides to settle on your hips. “So I think I’m owed at least one more.”

You let out a breath of relief when you realized his confidence was back and that whatever had plagued him in his sleep seemed to have passed. You dipped down to kiss him sweetly, letting your lips linger against his as he chased you just enough to keep you there for a moment longer before you sat back up. 

It gave you a sense of confidence, his warm hands on your hips as you straddled him, and even you were surprised at the next words you said. 

“And the nurse who took care of you? What’s she owed?” 

That earned a chuckle from him, and you melted down into him as he kissed your forehead. His bare chest was warm, skin heating yours through the thin material of your tank top, but his next words set you on fire.

“She can have whatever she wants.” 

You hummed, leaning down to kiss him earnestly, letting yourself have what you had been craving for weeks without even realizing. Javi tilted your head up with his good hand, lips finding your neck. His mustache was rough against you and you groaned at the feeling, settling your hips down over his, seeking friction anywhere you could find it. The rubber band had finally snapped between the two of you, and you couldn’t get enough. 

“Tell me when to stop,” he whispered, breath sending goosebumps all along your collarbone. Something about him giving you an out made everything ten times hotter.

“Please don’t,” you begged, pulling him back up to your lips. He groaned into you, grabbing at your hips to move you and hissing at the pain it caused. 

“Easy,” you cautioned.

“Not in my nature,” he retorted. You smiled, shifting your hips to press against him like you knew he wanted, resisting the urge to laugh at the way his head fell back against the pillows just barely. 

“Let me take care of you.” You ran your nails gently down his chest. 

“Not in my nature,” he repeated, but his breathing was already getting heavier.

“I thought it was whatever I wanted.”

It was Javi’s turn to smile, and you gasped as his hands slid into your shorts, down over your ass to squeeze softly, kneading the flesh and pulling you along his own hips. The rhythm was electric, and you didn’t feel like arguing anymore, too caught up in him to care. You tried over and over again to speed him up but he kept you steady, back and forth as he grew harder and harder below you.

He guided you through it, lips tracing a pattern along your jaw, up to your lips and back down to your throat, along your collarbone until you were practically clawing at him. 

“Need more,” you moaned into his mouth, hands in his hair.

“Then take it.”

You didn’t need telling twice. You reached between your bodies, pulling him out of his boxers easily. He was velvet soft in your hand and you couldn’t help yourself - you began to stroke him gently, achingly slow. 

But Javi wasn’t one to be out done. He sat up slowly, leaning against the headboard so he could free up his good arm. You helped him get your shirt off, and as soon as it was over your head his fingers dipped into your waistband, cupping your folds and making your hips buck into him.

“Sucia,” he breathed, sliding one finger inside, making your nails dig into his shoulders. He put up a good front, but you could see his pulse in his throat, and you knew your unfaltering hand was having just as much of an effect on him. 

You gave in first, pushing his hand away and scooting back up to straddle him. He caught on immediately, helping guide you up so you could sink down onto him. You went slowly, giving yourself time to savor each inch of stretch and sting and Javi.

“Fuck,” you groaned when you finally settled fully, letting your forehead rest on his shoulder. He was big, there was no denying it.

“You okay hermosa?” He murmured, holding you steady. You nodded, shifting just barely and groaning again. You had never felt so full before, even just breathing was enough movement that you could feel him shift inside you, making your eyes water. 

“I’m okay. I’m okay,” you reassured him, trying to find your words. 

“Takin’ me so good baby,” he hummed, kissing your jaw. You leaned back to give him more access and the shift was delicious. You followed it, lifting your hips up just enough and moving back down slowly.

It was Javi’s turn to moan then. His fingers dug into your hips and he grit his teeth, using every bit of restraint he had to not pound into you the way he wanted to. 

You moved again, bracing on his shoulders but careful to avoid his arm. Based on the way he was groaning, you weren’t sure he would care if you stitched him again - he might not even notice. 

“Need more cariño, whatever you can give me,” Javi said, screwing his eyes shut. You gave him what you could, lifting up and lowering down as quickly as you could. 

“So fucking tight.”

You couldn’t really hear him anymore - you could only feel. You set a pace, willing your muscles to relax as you began to rock above him, wiggling your hips back and forth. 

He thrust up once and it was game over. 

Your orgasm came out of nowhere, ricocheting from your core to your fingertips. You couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, and you collapsed forward, chest to chest with Javi as your body shook. 

He stilled until you did, and then he was back to moving, lifting his hips and pushing against your fluttering walls. You whimpered at the sensation, and he wrapped his good arm across your back, hooking around your waist. 

“Doin’ so good cariño, so good for me,” he groaned. “Give me one more.”

“I can’t,” you panted, still reeling.

“You can.”

Something about the demand in his tone had you pushing down to meet his hips. Your teeth sunk into the muscle of his shoulder as he chased his high, pulling another orgasm out of you that had you practically blacked out as he came with a resounding groan, burying his face in your hair.

“Holy fuck,” was all you could pull from your burning lungs as you both settled in the afterglow, Javi tracing patterns along your back. 

“Fuckin’ a,” Javi chuckled, kissing your head. “What a day we’ve had.”

“How’s your arm?” You hummed, leaning up just enough to check his gauze. You frowned at the fresh blood you could see.

“I’m fine. Had much worse, believe me.” 

“Guess sex is off limits till you heal,” you sighed, looking up at him through your lashes.

“No deal,” Javi argued, making both of you laugh. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“Don’t be. Besides, you can wake me up for that anytime,” you hummed, shimmying up to kiss him again. When your lips grew tired, he rolled you over, tucking you up to his chest and coaxing you to sleep. 

Your nights ended up with the two of you intertwined for the next month. Javi’s arm healed well, and he put it to good use every chance he got. He was busier at work, with new breaks happening in his case, which meant every evening you actually got to spend together was precious. 

And the evenings you weren’t together were spent wishing you were - at least, when you had a spare minute. But that night, you didn’t have many seconds to spare, much less minutes. 

It had been a long time since you’d been pulled off your typical unit at the hospital, but the emergency department was short staffed, and with multiple gun fights in the city they needed all hands on deck. The ensuing chaos put you in the ambulance bay, with a radio to your ear getting details of an incoming 9 year old gunshot wound case in the truck you could see pulling up. 

Right where they wanted you.

It happened quickly, and quietly. There was a child in the bed of the truck, covered in blood. You wouldn’t find out until afterwards that he worked for the cartel - simply a pawn to get you to climb into the bed and assess him. Your mind was racing, and though you’d never admit it, you were only half present with your patient. The other half of you was imagining Javi, desperately hoping that he wasn’t somewhere caught in the crossfire. 

It put you just enough off your game to not notice that the passenger had gotten out of the truck, snuck around the side. 

You didn’t know what he hit you with. Javi would find it later - a brick, stained with your blood, left in the street. He knocked you out, gave the child his payment and drove away with you in the bed, covered in a blanket. 

And so your nightmare began. 

You awoke in a foreign bedroom, sitting on the floor. Unsure of how much time had passed, unsure of where you were - all you knew was that your head was pounding, your hands were tied behind your back, and ankles tied together. You didn’t dare make a sound. There was a window covered in newspapers with a sunbeam shining through a gap, landing on your shoe and illuminating the blood left on them. Your stomach turned and you swallowed down the bile in your throat. 

All you could do was a quick self check - you were sore, your shoulders tight from where they were pinned back, your neck pinched from where you were leaned up against a metal bed frame. You could feel that your head was split somewhere, with dried blood caking your hair that you were desperate to itch. But otherwise, you seemed to be unharmed. So you started to plan. 

There was nothing in the room you could see that could be of use, and as you looked you heard them for the first time - voices, in the hall, that made your palms sweat and your heart race. You tried to picture their faces, but everything was blurry in your memory. The only face that seemed to come to mind was Javi’s. His sweet smile, right before he’d kissed you goodbye that morning from the driver’s seat and sent you into the hospital.

You’d give anything in that moment to go back to that first morning, to have him bracing the door and demanding that you stay home. 

“Focus. Fucking focus,” you whispered to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut. Javi had told you what to do if anything like this had ever happened. 

“You stay quiet,” he’d said. “Don’t try to lie your way out, don’t tell them anything, even if you think it’s what they want to hear. No matter what they do, you survive, and you stay quiet until I get to you.” 

So when the first man walked into the room, you set your jaw. You found a small black dot on the wall across from you and locked onto it. You let yourself disassociate, let the man’s words, his blows, his kicks, wash over you one at a time as if they were nothing. Deep down you knew he was angry, knew he was going to come back. But you stared at your speck, and willed yourself to be okay. 

Time passed, more men came. More blows. More time. Maybe even a day.

Your facade broke only once, when you heard a familiar name, a break in the murmur. 

“... Peña. Dinos dónde está perra, o estás muerta.” 

You looked up then, only for a moment, and then back to your speck, repeating the words in your head. 

Javi is coming. Javi is coming. Javi is coming.

You had no way of knowing just how close he was. The last 64 hours had been some of the most stressful of his life. He’d arrived at his usual spot outside of the hospital, and he’d given you fifteen minutes before he was headed through the front doors. He didn’t bother stopping at the front desk - the night that you’d gotten stuck in a patient’s room past shift change, they had sent him upstairs anyway. 

He didn’t start to panic until they told him you had changed units.

He found the brick in the ambulance bay as soon as he burst through the doors, and put the pieces together after that. His next stop was the store across the street to get their security camera footage. 

When he found the cameras disabled, he ripped a shelf to the ground on his way out and called his team. 

The next hours were spent surveying every piece of footage they could get their hands on until they finally, finally spotted a vehicle that came and left the hospital far too quickly. 

When Javi saw the bedsheet in the bed of the truck, his lunch remade its appearance in the back of his throat. 

He didn’t let himself believe you were dead, though he could tell his team thought otherwise. They knew better than to even suggest it though. The office had never been busier, between tracking the red truck across the neighborhoods to running possible mugs to figure out who could have possibly taken you. Javi couldn’t stand to stay still, so he spent every hour on the streets, running surveillance and tracking down every possible crumb that his men fed him. He had everyone involved, every person who owed him a favor, every single individual he knew in Colombia that he thought may help.

 The crack came when one of Javi’s reporter connections sent him a lead, a cartel member who fit the description of what he was looking for. The entire team took to the streets, and by an act of luck, or possibly a higher power Javi would be thanking for the rest of his life, he found the truck, tucked into an alleyway on the south side of the city.

Inside the apartment, your speck was getting harder to see. 

You weren’t exactly sure why. It seemed like it was getting harder to stay awake, but you fought your weary eyes. Awake meant alive, no matter how painful. 

There were new noises in the hall. They were hard to hear over the wheeze of your breathing, but the man in the room with you muttered something before he left. You didn’t dare look away from the speck, afraid of what you might find. But you let your ears wander. 

One gunshot sounded, and then it was all yelling and commotion, too much for your exhausted brain to sort through. You leaned closer to the door, hoping to hear something recognizable. One inch too far and suddenly you were falling to the side, unable to catch yourself. Your face hit the carpet, hard, startling you out of your daze. You desperately searched the wall for your speck, but it had disappeared, invisible from your new angle. 

“No, please,” you cried, your lifeline suddenly gone. 

Another gunshot rang out from downstairs and you screwed your eyes shut, curling your knees up to your chest, accepting what was to come. You hoped in that moment that anyone but Javi would find your body, and that he would know that you tried. 

More commotion followed, and you curled up tighter when you heard the door burst open. 

“Mi amor. Cristo.” 

The hands that found you were as gentle as a feather, but you didn’t dare to open your eyes. The now familiar sound of a knife clicking open sounded out through the room and you whimpered, waiting. But instead, a bit of friction on your wrists and then they were free, then your ankles. 

“Open your eyes Y/N. Look at me.” 

Reluctantly, you opened your eyes, and you were met with pools of deep brown - you’d know them anywhere, and the relief was almost your undoing.

“I’m here. You’re safe, you’re alive. I’m here.” 

You nodded once, unable to move more than that. His lips on your forehead were a welcome comfort before he scooped you up from the floor. 

“Close your eyes,” he told you, and you listened, burying your face in his neck and letting him carry you out to the car. 

There were others outside. You could hear them, but you kept your face hidden. Javi spoke to them briefly, instructed them on what to do and selected one of them to drive. Almost immediately he was climbing into the passenger seat of a larger car with you in his lap, and you were on your way. 

The tears were falling by the first street you turned down, burning your raw cheeks. Javi felt them, hot and wet on the collar of his shirt.

“Shh, shhh shh amor. I’ve got you.”

He was scared to hold you too tight, to agitate the injuries he could see. But that didn’t stop you from clinging to him with everything you had in you. You clawed at his shirt, dragging yourself as close as you could to him, breathing him in, trying to make yourself believe that you were really truly there with him. Safe. Alive. 

You lifted an arm up, ignoring the way it pulled at your sore muscles, wrapping your fingers in his hair as you had so many mornings. 

“Javi,” you whispered. 

“I’m here mi amor.” He kissed your forehead again, blinking back his own tears at the sound of your voice. 

“I love you.” It came out too quiet, but you knew he heard it from the way he choked out a small sob. 

“I love you,” he replied. 

You sighed, wincing as you let your muscles relax. 

“What? What is it?” Javi’s hands ghosted over you, too scared to touch and make it worse.

“It hurts.”

“I know, baby. We’re going to the hospital, we’re going to make it better. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” 

“Okay.” You clung to his words with everything you had left and let your eyes close, the exhaustion finally taking over, safe in loving arms.

#THIS TOOK ME SO DAMN LONG FUCKKKK #pls read it i am begging for feedback okay im unashamed #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #my writing

[aphroditeslover11]

Hi! I hope that you're having a great day/night! Could I request Lenny Miller with a younger reader?

Love Of His Life

This came so naturally, I’m not sure if it’s what you were hoping for but it just flowed out of my hands!

Warnings: a little smut, age gap, not proofread

Lenny had met you when you were spending a year in Paris, having taken a French degree that required you to spend a year abroad as a part of your study. It took some convincing for you to go out on a date with the older man, but he was persistent and eventually won you over. After he had taken you to dinner at Le Meurice, picking up the tab himself, he had walked you home and sent flowers to your tiny chamber de bonne the next day along with a note thanking you for your company. The fact that he was old didn’t mean he was dull or sleazy as you had feared, it meant that he was a hopeless romantic who knew how to treat a woman properly. The next time you met he had taken you for a picnic in the Jardin Du Luxembourg, complete with amazing French cheeses and a bottle of expensive champagne. It was fair to say that pretty soon you were hooked. Everyone always said that you were mature for your age anyway, so the concept of the age gap quickly became irrelevant to you.

A year later and you had finished your degree. When it got towards the end of your time studying in France Lenny had taken the risk of proposing you after taking you back to Le Meurice like he had on your first date. You hadn’t thought before saying yes, he put in for a transfer to be near you whilst you finished your degree and life continued in your strange state bliss.

You tied the knot quite quickly after that, getting married in a small service. His parents had both passed and he was an only child. Neither had much in the way of family, but you had agreed to a wedding in the church where he had grown up in Hawaï, though he wouldn’t admit it you knew that it made him feel close to his parents. You had the perfect white dress and he was in uniform, a hang over from the days when he had been climbing the ranks of Navy SEALs before he had been recruited into the CIA. As there were so few people you didn’t bother having a proper reception, he opted to take you to the beach where he had spent his time as a child, eating cheap burgers as your wedding breakfast and replacing the lights of a dance floor with the soft glow of the stars above you.

After this you moved to New York, he was promoted and took over a senior intelligence post, stationed in the city. He was in and out of the UN meeting with his counterparts, meeting all kinds of people. You knew he worked so hard because he wanted to prove he was worthy of you, his young and beautiful wife. You were remarkably proud of him, even if he found it hard to believe it. He was smart and had invested some of what his parents had left him into the stock market back when he was in the navy and used it to buy a beautiful apartment on the Upper East Side. It had a beautiful kitchen diner where you would attempt to cook together, often ending up in resorting to ordering takeout after Lenny decided that it would be a good idea to modify your recipes. There was something beautifully domestic about this life, it was still unpredictable but safe. Lenny refused to tell you much about his past because he didn’t want you to view him differently, but he gave up the guns and the action so he could live a safe life with you, finally letting himself rest.

After having seen so many horrible things he would want to protect you from the harshest realities of the world. You were young and innocent and so perfect for him, he didn’t want to taint that. He would never let an argument go unresolved before you went to bed. On the rare occasion that you had a proper row he would usually cave first and give you your way. He would usually be so in control of himself, but when he did shout it was harsh and loud, it always terrified you and as soon as he saw the look on your face he would cave. He could never stand the thought of you being afraid of him.

Arguments would often end in the bedroom, he would be the gentlest lover after a fight, peppering kisses along your collarbones before slowly moving down your body. He would be attentive, bringing you over the edge as many times as he could with his hands and his tongue until he had finally made it up to you. Only then would he seek any pleasure for himself, sheathing himself within you and moving so gently it would be as if you were made of porcelain. He’d be terrified of hurting you after seeing you so vulnerable earlier.

There could be another side of him in bed though. A raw and passionate one that came out after a difficult day at work. You learnt how to bring it out yourself over time, how to tease him with subtle touches at the work galas that he took you to and how he could never control himself when he saw you in just your lingerie and a pair of Louboutins. On those nights he would go for rounds at a time. Voracious, like a starving man at a banquet. He delighted in having you spread out below him, completely vulnerable to him and at his mercy. You always looked so small from that angle, he could do anything he wanted to you, and moreover he knew that you would let him and enjoy it. No matter how hard he took you though, he always ended with his head buried in the crook of your neck, whispering passionate prose into your ear and telling you how precious you were to him, how he would never let any harm come to you.

He managed to temper his protective tendencies well. Although both of you knew that it wasn’t a necessity, you found a job working in a little bookshop a few days a week, something to occupy your time. He was always anxious that something from his past would come back to haunt him, to haunt you, but he did his best to keep his worries separate from your life together. On account of your age difference, he was forced to confront the fact that there were things that you would want to do that he had left in the past, many years ago. You had a tight circle of friends that you would go with for nights out - clubbing, dancing and drinking in dives that he would never go into. He would never do anything to stop you, he would want you to live a life as full as you would have without him. Still, he couldn’t help it if he had to stay up until 3:00 am to make sure that you got home safe.

You had a beautiful life together in New York, it was something that you had built together, brick by brick. Every day he found himself falling deeper in love with you. He often said that he would probably have ended up dead in an abandoned corner of some far off land if he hadn’t had you to force him out of his ways. He pushed so hard for so long yet in you, your fragility and youth, he had finally made something to make him slow down. He finally understood the meaning of the phrase - you were the love of his life

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy x reader #lenny miller x reader #lenny miller #anna

[porcelainseashore]

Teenage Headache Dreams (5)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: High School! College! Leon Kennedy x Dancer! Fem! Reader

Summary: You’re a bored, but ambitious high school student who can’t wait to escape small town life and make it in the big city. You thought you had it all figured out, until you unwittingly befriend the resident golden boy, Leon. A series of events beginning from junior year to college until Resident Evil 2 Remake.

Warnings: 18+ Swearing, Recreational Drug Use, Eventual Smut, No (Y/N), Ambiguous/Open Ending

Content: High School AU, College AU, Pre-Resident Evil 2, Fluff, Romance, Cliche, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Lack of Communication

Author's Note: Final chapter, wow! Well, not quite. I am working on a Part 2 Ghosts from the Past that will fix the Hurt No Comfort ending to this fic. Before I forget, the Smut warning also applies here. It’s my first time writing smut, please be gentle 🙂 Thanks again for all your wonderful support!

AO3 Link

Chapter 5: Is This Goodbye?

Your time in college was exactly how you imagined it - exciting, eye-opening and challenging. Not only did you develop a lot artistically in those years, you became a bolder, more street smart version of yourself. What was initially raw ambition turned into a cosmopolitan New York drive that rubbed off on you. Whenever you came back to visit your hometown, you were seen as that sophisticated, big city woman you’d always wanted to be.

Leon on the other hand had grown more quiet and serious. He still joked around with you, but it seemed like his focus on doing well at the police academy matured him. He became analytical and observant, following the “look before you leap” approach more often than not. The training had also done his physique good - he was at his fittest and strongest yet.

You were proud of him. He had turned into the man you wanted to be with, not that you had ever doubted his abilities. However, it was a lot tougher to keep up the long-distance relationship than both of you had expected. It wasn’t so simple to see each other, which needed a couple of adjustments, and college life was in itself filled with hard work and distractions. Despite that, you powered through, hoping it would get easier someday, or that your paths would align better again. For now, you had to content yourself with meeting at home during the holidays, or making the trip out to either college for the odd weekend.

There were people who said it wouldn’t last. That you were wasting away your college years being with your high school sweetheart, when you should be living it up and partying like you were single. You knew where they were coming from, and you were pretty sure Leon was probably going through the same dilemma as you, but for some reason both of you didn’t want to give up. That said, you knew you had to end the distance at some point. It was clearly taking a toll on your relationship.

When you graduated from your respective colleges and returned home for a break before moving on with the next chapter of your lives, you were thankful to get some much-needed time together for once. However, the few months you had to yourselves flew by so quickly, you felt like it wasn’t enough. It never was.

“So… you could have picked literally anywhere to be stationed, but you chose Raccoon City?” You sighed audibly, as a way of letting your displeasure at the news be known. Here you were, in Leon’s house, shifting around a couple of moving boxes to help him pack up his stuff. He would be joining his new police family in a week’s time. 

Dumping one of the boxes on the ground in frustration, you continued on your rant. “I mean, you were practically a Valedictorian!”

Instantly, you felt Leon’s arms wrap around you from behind, holding you close to him as he murmured into your hair. “Baby, we’ve gone through this. You know I’ve wanted to be put on the Arklay murder cases.” He squeezed you tighter. “I’ll prove myself, I know I can.”

“It’s not about that.” You turned to face him with a pensive frown, tracing the outline of his jaw with your fingers. “I believe you’ll be the finest goddamn cop in the world, but I thought we wanted to stop being apart?”

His brows etched together as he regarded you with a hint of dejection. “Well, what do you want me to say? We knew this wouldn’t be easy.”

“I want to be with you, Leon.” You kissed his neck and buried your face into it, inhaling his musky scent deeply. “Close to you.” 

He shivered, closing his eyes as your hot breath hit his skin. “Then why don’t you come stay with me?”

You looked up, startled by his sudden proposal. “What? Are you sure?”

“More than sure.” He opened his eyes, staring at you resolutely.

You didn’t expect him to ask you to move in with him so soon, but in some way you were comforted by the fact that he still felt so strongly about you, despite these difficult years. You were tempted to give in and just say “Yes”, but at the back of your mind, you knew you had a decision to make. You had received offers from various dance companies, most of which were located in New York or abroad, where you would be thriving. Not out in the middle of nowhere in the Midwest.

The sharp trill of a telephone ringing cut through the air, interrupting your thoughts. Leon broke away apologetically. “Uh- sorry, I need to take this.”

You waited in the hallway, hearing only snippets of the conversation, but it sounded like Leon was confused. You regarded him curiously, as he walked back to where you stood with a puzzled look on his face.

“They told me not to come in,” he muttered to himself.

“Huh? Who?” you questioned.

“I don’t know, someone at the RPD.” He paused, his forehead creasing as he scowled. “They said there were some issues and to stay away for now.”

“Nothing else?” 

“Nuh uh.” He shook his head.

“That’s weird.” You folded your arms, trying to rack your brain for plausible explanations. 

“Maybe they’ll call you again when they’re ready?” You suggested, stroking his arm reassuringly. “It’s probably some admin mess up.”

He shrugged, looking rather crestfallen. You knew how eager he was to start his new job and seeing him in such a state made you feel bad for him.

“Come here.” You reached out, taking him in your arms again. “I know you’re frustrated it’s not working out as planned,” you began. “But honestly, I’m just happy to have you to myself for a little longer.”

He peered down at you, the corners of his mouth breaking out into a smile. “You’re impossible,” he breathed, sealing your lips with an intimate kiss.

━━━━━━━━━━━

A week went by, and then another. Leon heard nothing.

However, you relished the lazy mornings waking up next to him in bed, snuggling together which often led to something more. You didn’t want this to end, but in the coming days, you noticed him pace around the room anxiously, glancing every so often at the telephone, in the hopes he would get another call to report in.

It finally came to a breaking point, where he decided that he should just go in anyway to check on things. His parents cooked up a farewell meal the night before to send him off. You sat next to him at the dining table, looking down at your plate and poking gingerly at the food. You had hardly eaten.

When his parents went into the kitchen to bring out more drinks and the dessert, he whispered into your ear, “You know, it’s rude to play with your food.”

You turned towards him with a wistful smile, admitting, “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” he replied. Below the table, his hand crept underneath your skirt, tracing the side of your thigh, before making its way between your legs. You closed your eyes and sighed at his touch. “But it’s only temporary, right?”

His words caused you to look away in shame, biting your cheek. You still hadn’t made up your mind about the offers and in turn, whether you would live with him. But deep down, you knew you were just stalling for time. It was one thing moving to the city, but moving countries? That would most likely spell the end of your relationship. 

“I don’t know where I’m going… yet.”

He tilted your chin in his direction and you could see the weariness in his eyes, like he was tired of rehashing this topic over and over again. “Look, let’s just enjoy this last night together, ok?”

“Yeah.” You didn’t know why, but something about the way he said it felt so final and it bothered you. But you didn’t want to argue anymore. You wanted to pretend that everything was fine as it was.

Then, his parents came back to the table and his mom gestured to the wine bottle in her hand. “Some more?”

You nodded and thanked her, as she filled your glass and his dad served out the dessert. All the while, Leon’s hand never left your inner thigh, drawing absentminded circles on your skin, apparently impatient to have some alone time with you.

Soon, they excused themselves to retire to bed, leaving you and Leon to clear away the dishes. Once that was done, you settled on the living room couch, where you had shared many memories of watching movies and chatting til the early hours of the morning. Curling up against Leon, you rested your head against his chest, feeling its rise and fall, and listening to his heartbeat.

“Shall we pick up from where we left off?” His fingers grazed your bare legs again. One last time? A voice echoed in your head, but you shrugged it off.

“Are they asleep?” You wondered out loud.

“Pretty certain,” he replied nonchalantly. “You’re getting rusty at this, aren’t you?” He smirked, sinking his weight onto you so that you fell back on the cushioned seat of the couch, while he groped your hips and breasts through your lace camisole, planting kisses all over your body.

You felt like teenagers again, making out and fondling each other over your clothes on the couch, while his parents slept soundly upstairs. Back then, it never led to anything too serious. You were just fooling around and exploring each other’s bodies without getting caught. This time though, your clothes didn’t stay on for very long.

He chuckled at your restlessness as you tugged off his shirt, running your hands along his toned chest towards his abs. “Enjoying the view?”

“It’s not bad,” you half-lied, throwing him an alluring smile as you palmed his growing erection through his jeans. He hissed in response, grinding it against your hand. “But this is just getting in the way.”

“Well, if the lady insists-” He pushed himself up to a seated position and you groaned at the loss of contact, as well as in anticipation of his cheesy comeback. “-then who am I to deny her?” You heard the sound of his belt unbuckle as he slid out of his jeans, chucking it carelessly to the floor.

The bulge in his plain black boxers caused you to subconsciously lick your lips as he hovered over you, slipping the straps of your camisole to the sides suggestively. “I don’t think it’s fair that I’m the only one getting naked here.”

Nuzzling your nose against his playfully, you stole a quick kiss from his lips before shifting yourself up, allowing him to take your top off with ease. He hummed in appreciation as your breasts spilled out, nipples hardening from the cool air in the room. You knew he liked it when you went without a bra. Cupping your right breast in his hand, he gave it a small squeeze, thumbing its peak before taking it into his mouth, licking and sucking it eagerly. A low moan escaped from your throat, as you grasped tufts of his blonde hair, while his other hand slid under the waistband of your skirt, pulling it down unceremoniously. 

His tongue flicked against your nipple at the same time as he stroked your folds through the soaked fabric of your white thong that accentuated your curves perfectly. Your body jolted from the sensitivity as you held back a whimper.

“Mm… so wet already,” he murmured, somewhat proud of himself. It wasn’t always this way. You remembered the first time you and Leon had sex - the awkwardness, fumbling around blindly in the dark, trying to find your way into the positions, but at least there was a lot of laughter. Eventually you adjusted and learnt how your bodies responded to each other, and now he knew how to make this night memorable.

Pushing your thong to the side, you felt his index finger enter your pussy as his thumb played with your clit, causing you to gasp in response. “You like that, baby?” he asked, checking in with you.

“Mm hm,” you nodded, your voice sounding high-pitched and strained. “More,” you begged.

He obliged, slipping in another finger and quickening the pace slightly. You moved your hips against them, allowing him to penetrate you deeper, and coating his fingers with your arousal. As he continued thrusting into you, he trailed the tip of his tongue from your breasts, down along your stomach, reaching your mound and finally swirling it around your throbbing clit. Your breathing grew shallow and rapid with each stroke.

His fingers curled forward, pressing against that sweet, spongy spot, causing you to jerk in response, clamping his face between your thighs. Your core tightened and burned, as waves of euphoria built up in your body. Biting into your knuckles to let out a strangled moan, the walls of your pussy clenched around his fingers as you reached your climax.

It felt as if the world had stopped spinning for a moment as you came down from your orgasm, chest heaving and sweat dripping between your breasts. “Wow,” you exhaled. Gradually, your vision came into focus as you saw Leon facing you, grinning through his plump lips, moistened by a mixture of saliva and your fluids.

“Was it good?” He had the audacity to ask, even though he already knew the answer. However, the praise he received from you couldn’t hurt. Rolling your eyes, you shifted your weight onto his body, pushing him against the backrest of the couch as you sat on his lap. 

“It was amazing,” you acknowledged, kissing him sloppily as you tasted yourself on his mouth, before slinking down to the ground on your knees, coming to rest between his legs. His eyes widened in recognition, taking the hint as he pulled down his boxers, kicking them to the side. Instinctively, you reached for his cock, already painfully hard and erect. The tip of it was weeping with precum which you smeared with your thumb, causing it to twitch in your hand as he gritted his teeth and groaned into your touch.

Leon’s gaze was transfixed on you as you pumped his shaft a few times sensually, before running your tongue along the length of his cock, filling it entirely in your mouth when you reached the top. 

He sucked in a sharp breath. “God, that’s hot.”

You pulled your mouth off his cock, still keeping your hand tightly wrapped around its base. How could you pass up on such an opportunity to tease him? Batting your eyelashes, you pouted up at him. “You want me to continue?”

You swore you could have heard a whimper, before he pleaded, a little too enthusiastically, “Fuck yes,” so much so you had to remind him to keep his voice down.

Satisfied with his mini outburst, you smiled cheekily and went back at it. He held your hair up firmly with one hand and balled the other into a fist, gripping the edge of the seat as he watched you suck on his cock through half-lidded eyes. Your lips stretched over it as you took it all the way in and came back up, circling your tongue around the tip and ridge. He threw his head back, turning to the side to muffle his whines and you sped up, increasingly turned on by the sounds you drew out of him.

At some point, Leon tapped on your shoulder lightly, indicating for you to stop. “I’m sorry, baby. I won’t last if you keep doing this,” he made out through labored breaths.

You nodded understandingly as he pulled you up again into his arms, so that you were straddling his lap, and he littered you with tender kisses in appreciation. You cherished these moments of affection in between. It was like a calm respite in the eye of the storm. 

Afterwards, you discarded the thong that was looking a little worse for wear and lifted yourself slightly, guiding his cock towards your entrance as he rested his hands on both sides of your ass. He took in the view fully, his dilated pupils burning with desire, as he memorized every detail of your body and the intoxicated expression so clearly marked across your face when you sank down onto him.

Once you had eased in, you moved up and down his hard length, breasts bouncing in a similar motion as you rocked your hips in sync with his thrusts upwards into you. Clinging on to his broad shoulders, you gasped each time he bottomed out inside. He whispered in hushed tones, telling you how beautiful you were, how good you felt, and how much he was yours, as you swallowed your guilt, pushing away whatever dreams you had of a future living together with him.

Seemingly oblivious to your thoughts, Leon kneaded your ass, spreading its cheeks apart as you rode his cock faster and harder to distract yourself. Feeling another orgasm build up in your aching cunt, you dug your nails into his skin, the sensation causing him to growl and buck his hips up, plunging into you. When you let out a loud yelp, he stopped abruptly, eyeing you with concern as you raised a hand to your mouth in embarrassment.

“Was that too much?” “You think they heard me?” You both asked in unison, before exchanging looks and giggling quietly, as you reassured him that he hadn’t hurt you. The room was silent except for your breathing and nothing stirred in the night. It seemed like his parents must be heavy sleepers.

“Leon…” you called out, gently caressing his cheek as he stared at you with those icy blue eyes. “I want you, but-”

“Shhh, it’s ok,” he interrupted, bringing his finger to your lips, as if he already knew what you were about to say. Maybe he just wanted tonight to be perfect as it was too. Tomorrow could wait.

The next minute, he pulled you flush against his hips, before pinning you flat onto the couch seat with your wrists restrained above your head. Your legs were wrapped around his waist and his cock was still buried deep in your pussy. With renewed vigor he set a relentless pace as he pounded into you, coaxing moan after moan from your mouth. He leaned in to kiss your throat, muttering against your skin, “Show me how much you want me.”

You knew what he meant. He wanted to hear his name on your lips as he fucked you with such desperation, as if to remind you that you were his. As if he was afraid to lose you. Maybe it was because he didn’t know when would be the next time he’d see you. Or perhaps he had a gut feeling that you’d leave him for some fancy dance company far away.

His blazing cerulean eyes bore into you, savoring every reaction that he could elicit from your body, as he covered your mouth and slammed his hips against your pussy mercilessly.

“Ah- fuck! Leon!” With each thrust, you screamed into his cupped hand in pleasure until your voice was hoarse, and you were positive that if anyone was in the hallway, they would hear the unmistakable sound of skin slapping against skin and muted cries.

It didn’t take long for your climax to hit again and you arched your back, crying out his name for a final time as your mind went blank and your body spasmed uncontrollably. His rhythm started to falter as he felt your cunt squeeze and milk him for all its worth. Beads of sweat trickled down his brow as he locked eyes with you, and you caught a glimpse of sadness in them, resulting in a similar pang to seep into your heart. He knew it would soon be over. 

Finishing off with a few more thrusts, he filled you deep with his hot cum, groaning your name and capturing your lips in another feverish kiss. With that, he collapsed on top of you in a heap, both of you panting heavily as you felt a pool of wetness on your face. Were those tears? Were they yours or his? You weren’t sure anymore.

After a moment of silence, you heard a faint whisper, “Please, don’t leave me.” You didn’t respond, but instead stroked his damp hair soothingly, placing a lingering kiss on his forehead as you closed your eyes and sighed.

━━━━━━━━━━━

The morning after, all that remained was a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach as Leon made his final preparations to head off. You avoided each other’s gaze as you shuffled around the house, placing the remaining items in his jeep. You used to laugh at the size of that monstrous car, but you had to eat your words when he drove you to both of your favorite secluded spots, where you would sit back together on its spacious hood with blankets and drinks, watching the starry night and city skyline in each other’s arms. So many memories, so little time.

Finally, it was time and you couldn’t ignore what was coming anymore.

“It’s getting late...” He could barely look at you and his eyes were brimming with melancholy. “I should go.”

He was still standing away from you at arm's length apart, afraid to touch you, in case he might change his mind. You couldn’t stand how permanent this goodbye felt, as if you knew innately that this would be the last you would see of him. There was no explanation to it, just pure, raw energy.

In a last ditch attempt, you blurted out, “I’ll call you.” You reached out to grab his hand. “There’s a dance company near Arklay, I could-”

He took his hand away as if he had been burnt. “Don’t,” he warned, his voice trembling as he choked on his words. “Just don’t play games with me.”

He could see through your empty promises and even though you had repeated the same lie over and over again to yourself that you would stay, it was obvious that your heart was captivated by the glittering city lights of a foreign country, and he couldn’t win you over. Not this time. He knew you would break up with him even before you saw it coming yourself.

“Leon, I-” you paused, hot tears streaming down your face as you met his blue eyes. You longed to profess how much you loved him and what he meant to you, but your emotions were caught in your throat. In the end, you could only manage a feeble, “I’m sorry.”

You saw the flicker of light in his eyes dim out as he glanced away. “Don’t be.” He turned towards his jeep and opened the door. “It’s just how life works out sometimes.” He shrugged dejectedly, as if resigned to his fate.

He climbed into the vehicle and turned on the engine, before facing you one last time. “Goodbye,” he called out softly.

With that, he closed the car door and drove off into the distance.

━━━━━━━━━━━

The next day, you heard it on the news. Raccoon City would be destroyed due to a deadly viral outbreak. Within a day, the entire city of 100,000 civilians was gone, wiped off the face of the Earth. For the greater good. Your mouth twisted in distaste at the government’s decision as the glass of water you were holding slipped through your hand, shattering onto the floor.

There was an incessant ringing sound in your ear and you tasted metal on your tongue. Your whole body went numb as you kept your eyes peeled on the TV, your breath coming in short until you started hyperventilating. 

Leon? Dear god, Leon! Please let him be alive, you prayed to some unknown, higher entity.

Your parents had to hold you up and drag you away from the living room, shutting off the TV as they ushered you into your old bedroom to calm you down. There could be survivors, they said. And for some time, you had hope. 

As weeks passed and you heard nothing except stone cold silence, that hope began to diminish. You didn’t know how painful heartbreak was until you experienced it - the wrenching of skin, tearing of tissue, a crushing force against your organs. 

You were so foolish. You should have told him how you felt. Now you had nothing left except regret. Wishing that you could have turned back the clock and gone to a prestigious arts college near Springfield instead, just so you could have spent more time together. Wishing again, that you would have accepted his offer to live with him. And finally, wishing that you had convinced him to stay one more day, so he would be here, in front of you, still living.

You would have given everything up and more to have him back. But he was gone. And this time, it really was too late.

Grief has no bounds, and you couldn’t spend a second longer in the place where you grew up. Not if you wanted that very same grief to rip into you and consume you. So you did the one thing you knew how to do best. Run. Run away as far as you could to somewhere that wouldn’t remind you of the boy you shared all the good and bad times with. The boy you loved and lost.

As you packed your things with no plan of where you were headed to next, a strong gust of wind blew through the open window, causing a bunch of papers on your desk to scatter across the floor. And there you saw it. The long-forgotten card, with white text embossed on white background, serendipitously landing right in the middle of where you were standing.

TANZTHEATER SILJE VÖLKER

Staring at the card for a moment, you quickly picked it up, placing it securely into your handbag, next to the college graduation photo you and Leon had posed in together. Both of you were happy back then, with so much hope and dreams ahead of you. 

You shook your head, muttering to yourself, “Hey, loser.” 

If Leon was up there somewhere, please just let him hear this. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t say I love you.”

Wiping away the tears that never ceased to fall these days, you took one final glance around the room, before turning on your heel and never looking back.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy smut #high school au #college au #re2 leon #re2 remake #resident evil 2 #resident evil #porcelainscribbles

[holdmytesseract]

Request from @anukulee to @holdmytesseract

Title: Getting Her Out Of My Head

Plot: Magnus can’t stand her, she reminds him too much of what he has seen at work, time after time. As he watches his work tear people apart. Yet still she fights him even when he knows far better. Despite this he finds himself more and more drawn to her, and what happened when he may finally have to put his big boy pants on.

Magnus age range; 30 - 42 (at most)

Reader age range; 25 (fresh out of the academy), - 29 (oldest)

POV: Magnus

Concepts: Enemies to lovers, male falls hard, male pov, grumpy x sharp tongue sunshine, and angst with happy ending.

The Quarrel of Lovers Is The Renewel of Love

Magnus Martinsson x fem!Reader

Summary: You are Magnus Martinsson's reckless protégée; acting headless and not listening to a word he says - what gets you in a dangerous situation in the end... And the policeman to confess his feelings...

Warnings: Magnus PoV?, police things, mentions of guns, knives and drugs, fluff, angst, dangerous situation, mutual pining? age gap

Word Count: 2,7k

a/n: I'm so sorry this took me so long, friend! I changed the title - what I hope is okay! Also, I really hope that you like what my brain came up with! :)

Hiddles Tags: @lady-rose-moon @muddyorbsblr @smolvenger @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @jennyggggrrr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @asgards-princess-of-mischief @vanilla-daydreaming @loz-3 @fictive-sl0th @lovingchoices14 @lokidbadguy @icytrickster17 @lulubelle814 @mandywholock1980 @november-rayne @chantsdemarins @simping-for-marvel @lou12346789 @lokiforever @multifandom-worlds @hisredheadedgoddess28 @vbecker10 @jaidenhawke @km-ffluv @crimson25 @cakesandtom @buttercupcookies-blog @salvinaa @javagirl328 @dustychinchilla74 @frzntrx @coldnique @eleniblue @huntedmusicgardenn

Masterlist

"Hey, Martinsson!" One of the other detectives inside the big office at the police station in Ystad called out to the curly haired man, who was currently standing in front of the printer; trying to get the stubborn device to work again.

He lifted his gaze at the call of his name; eyes searching the room for the source of the voice. It was Clas Anderson - one of the rare colleagues Magnus didn't get along with. He was just way too arrogant and smart-aleck for his liking. The blond haired man took a deep breath and called out: "What is it, Clas?" His colleague responded with a spiteful smirk. "When do you finally learn to get your chaotic apprentice under control, huh?" Magnus rolled his eyes with a big sigh, "What did she do this time?" and abandoned the printer, in order to walk over to his colleague.

"Acting headless - as always. Even on observation. I won't take her with me again." Clas stepped closer, almost in a threatening way. "Y/L/N is your responsibility. Talk sense into her, damnit." Anderson pressed his pointer finger into the hard muscle of Magnus' chest. "Or I'm paying the executive floor a visit and tell them you're not fitting this role." The detective sighed. "I know that. I'm already doing everything I can, but she just won't listen. She's stubborn." "I don't care, Martinsson. That's your problem. Fucking fix it." With a snarl and a last threatening look, Clas brushed past Magnus.

It's been already almost six months since Y/N Y/L/N had joined the team in Ystad - but it passed for Magnus with almost no progression. He was chosen to be the young, aspiring detective's mentor. He had the duty to teach her; show her how a police officer should work. Take her under his wing. It sounded great in the beginning. Magnus' chest filled with pride, knowing that he was trusted with such a task. Over the years, he had definitely become one of the most important officers for the team. He got older; more mature - and it showed. Magnus knew exactly what he was doing. Kurt had taught him well.

But the excitement about this new chapter in his work life subsided soon... As soon as he met the quirky, young and talkative woman he should guide through her first years as a police officer - just like Kurt had guided him. Well, sometimes more, sometimes less, but that wasn't the point. From the first meeting between him and Y/N, he immediately felt that this wasn't going to work. Their perspectives were just too different. Y/N was reckless, stubborn and acted often headless. She didn't follow his instructions, which often put her in danger. Luckily no real danger, but it was enough to infuriate the curly haired man.

He did his best to not let her get under his skin, but Magnus couldn't help himself. At the end of the day, she was his 'apprentice' and 'responsibility'. It annoyed him to the core. She annoyed him to the core and yet he wasn't able to just turn his back on her. He couldn't. He didn't want to - and every night, he asked himself why. It could be so easy for him. One word was enough.

Magnus shook his head; ripping himself out of his deep thoughts. He ran a hand through his meanwhile dark blond mane. His curls had become visibly darker with the years.

He had grown. Not just mentally.

"Let's get this over with..." He sighed and made his way out of the room and down the hall to his office. Yes, he had a very own office by now. Walking through the glass door, he already saw her seated there; innocently playing with the slighty too long sleeves of your light blue blouse. Magnus swallowed. He didn't actually really want to do this, but he had to.

Rather loudly, he closed the door behind himself; causing her to jump slightly. "Y/L/N..." The detective addressed her sternly with her surname. "What happened during observation with Anderson?" His deep blue eyes settled on her smaller frame; watching her scrunch her nose and shrugging her shoulders. "I just did what I thought was right." Y/N answered nonchalantly. Magnus frowned; not quite believing her. "Clas said you acted headless. Again." The woman with the Y/H/C scoffed. "I didn't act headless! I just wanted to interfere, before-" The older detective gritted his teeth; tired of her constant excuses and her not owning up to her obvious mistakes.

Clas may be an arsehole - but he was an experienced detective and certainly not stupid.

Magnus had a long thread of patience, but it came how it had to come someday... He lost it. "You know what, Y/L/N? I don't want to hear it! Don't waste your breath! This is going to lead nowhere - like all our serious conversations do! It's pointless, until you finally stop being so utterly stubborn and headless and listen to me - or other experienced detectives!" Y/N stood up from her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not a newbie anymore, Magnus! I know what I'm doing!" Magnus shook his head. "No, you don't! You don't have the experience! I never said that you're a newbie! Sure, you know your job, but sometimes you just should listen to me! It'll get you in serious trouble sometime! I can assure you that!"

The woman groaned in frustration and rounded the desk; stepped closer to her mentor. So close, that she was almost chest to chest with him. "I don't think I'm the problem. You are. You didn't like me from the first day. Don't pretend it isn't true! You just don't trust in my skills enough is all!"

The curly haired man felt the blood boil within his veins. Why was she so annoying and unreasonable? "No, that is not true! I just don't want you getting yourself hurt or even killed! We're not dealing with kid stuff like neighbour fights or drunkards behind a steering wheel, no..." He sighed; pinching the bridge of his nose. "Y/N, we are dealing with the heavy stuff. Raids, drug businesses and murder! I've seen what this job can do to people! I know what can happen, so please... Please let me talk some sense into you right now!" His apprentice stepped even closer. So close, that he could feel her warm breath on his face. "I know what we are doing, Magnus. I'm neither stupid, nor blind. Learn to trust me more. Have some confidence in me and stop treating me like I'm made of glass."

She held his hard gaze for a few seconds, then walked past him; "My shift it over. I'll see you tomorrow." and left him behind in his office.

Magnus wanted to scream and throw something against the wall. Why does she had to make things so difficult? It could be so easy! After taking a few deep breaths, he sat down at his desk; closing his eyes for a short moment. "This woman is going to break my nerves..." The curly haired man muttered to himself; opening a file he had to work on.

Only a mere week later happened exactly that what Magnus always tried to prevent from happen. Y/N's recklessness got her into a dangerous situation...

The pair was on observation duty today; for a case involving a drug business. Their suspect was a young man; living in the poorer district of Ystad. Together, Magnus and Y/N walked to the detectives car. "Remember, Y/N... We are just on observation, okay?" She opened the passenger door; giving him a smile. "Sure, Mags! I got it. Loosen up a little." Eyeing her for another moment, he sat inside the car; slamming the door shut.

The older police officer drove them to their destination - a very old, bedraggled building at the edge of the town. It has been reported that this was a 'famous' drug business destination, so... And besides was their suspect spotted here before. Magnus parked the car a bit offsides; not to attract any attention. And with that, the observation started. It took a long few hours until something was happening in front of the building... A car stopped right in front of it. Somebody was getting out of the vehicle.

The curly haired man grabbed his binocular. "It's him. It's Bergman." The young police officer reached for her binoculars as well. "Looks like he's waiting for someone." Magnus agreed. "Yes..."

"Let's get closer."

The curly haired man shook his head. "No, Y/N. We are just observing, remember?" "Yes, but-" "No buts. We are staying in this car." The young woman inhaled deeply. "Yes, boss."

"Stop calling me that." "Why?" "Because I don't like it and you know it." She giggled. "Alright... Boss."

Magnus rolled his eyes; feeling his nerves stressed out again. "Y/N, I swear, if you don't-" "Oh my gosh, this is a drug deal! We are witnessing one of Bergman's drug deals!" She suddenly interrupted her mentor; gazing through the binoculars again, "Look!" and reached over to slap the elder man's shoulder. Martinsson did what Y/N asked him to do and watched the scenes unfold through his binoculars.

He swallowed. "It seems like it, yes." "We have to intervene, Magnus! We have to do something!" For the nth time, the curly haired detective shook his head. "No, we won't," he hissed. "If we do that now, just intervene and something gets wrong, we- Y/N, stop!"

He shouldn't have averted his eyes from his protégée. A mistake with consequences.

The last thing he saw of her, was how she stormed out of the car; weapon drawn. "Damnit!" Magnus cursed; slamming his hands down on the steering wheel, before running them through his thick curls. Quickly reaching for the binoculars again, he watched her every step; his fingers curling tightly around it.

Don't act with precipitation, don't act with precipitation, Magnus repeated the words like a prayer inside his head. Keep a cool head.

He watched how Y/N sneaked up towards the building and the two men; clearly with the intention to corner them - and that's what the young police officer did, but without success.

One of the two men (not the main suspect) broke out in panic and fled. Magnus swallowed; still watching. She went to approach Bergman; wanted to arrest him, but it didn't go how she planned this. Exactly that happened, what Magnus always had been afraid of... Y/N's headlessness got her into a dangerous, life threatening situation...

Everything happened so fast. One moment she was about to put handcuffs around Bergman's wrists and the next she found herself in the clutches of another man - probably their suspect's friend or henchman, with her gun on the ground and a knife pressed snugly against her neck. That was the moment Magnus lost it. He had to intervene. He needed to save this reckless woman and protect her. At all costs. He knew that he should call for backup and get this done the right and proper way, but he couldn't. Seeing Y/N with a knife pressed against her neck, caused the attentive policeman to lose it.

Magnus' heart dropped into his gut. It made him act headless, too.

He stormed out of the car; slamming the door shut behind himself. As fast as possible, he sneaked his way over. Magnus' heart was thumping against his ribcage; adrenaline, fear and nervosity flooded his system. Gritting his teeth and taking a few deep breaths, he left his hideout - gun drawn and loaded. "Ystad polisen! Släpp kniven!" The man's eyes who held Y/N widened, while Bergman wanted to reach for his own weapon. Something Magnus halted. "Tänk inte ens tanken! Händerna bakom huvudet, nu!" Then he turned to face the other young man. "Och du ska släppa kniven och låta henne gå!"

The man with black hair scoffed. "Varför ska vi låta henne gå?" The curly haired detective gritted his teeth. He saw only two ways out of this... Actually one. Shooting them was definitely not an option.

He looked over at Y/N. He saw how the young woman trembled in the bulkier man's arms; trying to hold back the tears.

Magnus swallowed hard. "Låt henne gå så låter jag dig gå." As a sign that he really meant it, the detective engaged the safety of his gun and threw it away, before he lifted his hand in surrender. Y/N's eyes widened at the foolish behaviour of Magnus. She had never seen him acting like this before.

"Låt henne nu gå."

The two men looked at each other and nodded. The black haired one threw Y/N aside and both started to run; quickly vanishing out of their sight.

Magnus didn't hesitate; was quick to rush immediately at Y/N's side. "Are you alright?" He asked; concerned eyes scanning her body as he crouched down beside her; wrapping his arms around her body. The young police officer nodded; still a bit trembling. Magnus didn't hesitate; lifted her up and carried her back towards the car, bridal style.

After sitting her in the passenger seat and getting a blanket from the trunk to wrap around her; he started the engine and pulled the car back on the road.

No one said a single word on the entire ride. Magnus was still trying to process what happened and Y/N was still way too shocked and shaken. Instead of driving back to the police station, took Magnus Y/N to his home, where he guided her up the stairs and sat her gently down on the sofa; blanket still wrapped around her. Minutes later, she had a steaming cup of tea in her hands.

"Thank you," the young woman mumbled quietly. "Of course," Magnus reassured her and sat down beside her. "Do you feel better?" She nodded; taking a small sip from the tea. Once more they sat in silence, until Y/N finally had the bravery to ask the question which was ghosting through her head already the whole car ride. "Why did you do that?"

The curly haired man's eyes snapped up to meet Y/N's. He swallowed hard; nervously rubbing his palms together.

"Because I had to."

She shook her head. "No... You didn't. You were acting headless. Something you never did before..."

He wanted to scream. Again. The realisation which had dawned on him after he went to save her was like a punch into the guts. Deep down he knew it, but nevertheless didn't see it coming.

"Well... Perhaps this is just what people do when they're in love."

"W-What?" Y/N blinked; visibly didn't see that coming. "I-In love? A-Are you trying to say that-"

"I've fallen in love with you, yes."

Silence.

"I-I don't know what to say, I..." Magnus gave her a gentle smile, despite that he felt like dying inside. "You don't have to say anything, Y/N." He knew that his feelings weren't reciprocated. Why should they? What would Y/N want with a man who was almost ten years older than her? "You wanted an honest explanation. I gave you one and that was it. This is an issue I have to deal with, not y-" The detective got interrupted and literally overwhelmed that her lips were suddenly on his; massaging them gently and encouraging him to kiss back.

It felt surreal. Like a dream - but he couldn't help himself but to give in and melt into the kiss.

"So... Does that mean my feelings are reciprocated?" He panted against her lips; smiling. Y/N scoffed playfully. "Didn't I make that very clear?" Magnus shook his head. "No, no, I think you need to give me a few more evidences." She smirked.

"Gladly."

Translation:

Släpp kniven! - Drop the knife!

Tänk inte ens tanken! Händerna bakom huvudet, nu! - Don't even think about it! Hands behind your head, now!

Och du ska släppa kniven och låta henne gå! - And you are going to drop that knife and let her go!

Varför ska vi låta henne gå? - Why should we let her go, huh?

Låt henne gå så låter jag dig gå. - Let her go and I'll let you go.

Låt henne nu gå. - Now let her go.

#magnus martinsson x reader #magnus martinsson #wallander fanfiction #wallander #wallander fanfic #magnus martinsson x you #magnus martinsson x y/n #magnus martinsson fanfic #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston characters

[coralinnii]

I had some people a little curious as to how I rated the TWST boys in my "TWST guys I would let date my niece (theoretically)" post in terms of personality only (considering they're fictional and my niece is 10). I can't completely answer everyone since there's only so many words tumblr would let me write as a reply, so here's for anyone who was curious.

The rating system was created alongside my niece on what she wanted in a partner (as much as she understood dating, anyway), compatibility with her personality, and my input as someone who has either met, known, or fortunately and unfortunately dated ppl with such personalities. With this in mind, maybe our list would be different from how you would categorize, which yea fair enough. This is all hypothetical anyway and it was interesting to see what my niece likes.

This does NOT mean I dislike any of the TWST guy. Seeing how unique each of them are personality-wise is honestly amazing and I want to believe that even if you have what people call "red-flags", "dealbreakers" or "turn-offs", that doesn't necessarily make you a bad person, just incompatible (with exceptions of like really toxic, destructive traits, like stealing someone's dog. Don't do that, guys).

Has my seal of approval

Trey responsible, good work ethic, loves to bake + the bonus of cute glasses (apparently me and my niece really like glasses).

Kalim fun-loving, open to new experiences, optimistic, and willing to learn if you're willing to teach.

Silver kind if a bit intimidating-looking, takes care of others, family-oriented,

Jack responsible, good lifestyle, works hard, kind while kinda grumpy, family-oriented.

Vil responsible, good life habits, works hard for success, not stuck on gender norms, kind if sort of stuck-up.

Lilia mature, fun-loving, open to new experiences, loves kids, not quick to anger. He does have his secrets, tho.

Neige kind, works hard for success, not afraid to be silly,

Ok…but I’m keeping an eye on you

Ace he's kinda lazy and willing to cheat in school but not a bad person.

Cater not willing to be vulnerable sometimes but is a responsible person that respects boundaries.

Azul a bit too opportunistic (in a sense he's also judging the value of anything, first) for me and may not vibe well with my niece but not bad.

Jamil not happy with how he sometimes lies and insincerely flatters others, but I don't think he does it maliciously so not a bad guy(?)

Ortho prone to violence if he thinks that's the best logical solution (i.e, hacking into security and blowing up the school??) so kinda worried.

Chenya a little too fickle and in-and-out physically which worries me, but he seems loyal and brave.

First, you and I are gonna have a talk

Riddle mainly his temper and impatience…and the in-laws

Deuce also his temper, and my niece prefers smart ppl (ooff)

Ruggie the 5-finger discount don’t fly under my watch

Epel also temper and prone to get into fights in the beginning. Also, my niece's not into the "gotta be manly" mentality, what are you gonna do?

Sebek it's mostly the temper and shouting…and tone down the Malleus simping

Jade don’t be bringing drama into my household

Rook it’s the creepy simping

Malleus kinda seen in early Book 7 and the spectral realm event, he doesn't communicate and talk things through with others and just does things on his own because he's powerful enough to do so, which is just...something we gotta talk about, first.

Oh, you and I are gonna fight, first!

Leona spoiled to high heavens, gives up on a lot of things, and is too used to having things done for him. I'm not letting my niece become his maid!

Floyd No...just no. He's the friend that I worry my niece will someday have to pick up at the police station. No

Idia Quick to judge others, kinda thinks he's smarter than everyone, and has a hard time communicating and socializing even with his friends and partners. I know this because I used to date someone like Idia, and currently have a crush on another person very similar to him.

Rollo Also (sorta) dated someone like him which is...an experience. Treated me as someone pure and sweet, but disliked my friends because she thought they were bad influences. Also really wanted me to join her kinda sketchy religious thing which I wasn't really into.

#there you have it #hope this answers some questions #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland

[singaporesainz]

this will be very long, so fair warning, but, as someone who does pay close attention to mclaren, the idea that so many people are already projecting oscar to completely outperform lando so soon makes me a little wary... not only is it underestimating lando but it's also putting a lot of unnecessary expectation on oscar who will still only be in his second year.

learning things like tyre and race management takes longer than most would think, and some don't ever perfect it despite initial promise (though hopefully oscar does!). they're incredibly complex and not just one singular attribute to learn, but rather a collation of dozens and dozens of conditions with dozens and dozens of outcomes. it's hard, and shouldn't be expected within a year or two!

we also can't forget that lando's only just over a singular year older than oscar; the guy is still so young, and the idea that lando won't also be making year-on-year improvements to his intrinsic performance level is a little silly. neither of them are at their peaks yet, especially when you consider that intrinsic performance improvement usually tends to plateau around age 26/27 for athletes.

another important thing to consider when talking about lando's career specifically so far is he has still never had a car which is even vaguely in line with something that suits his driving style – so you could expect another order of improvement from him when he has a car he feels he can really push and rely on. the mclaren's handling has historically been incredibly odd and unpredictable; not knowing how a car will react from corner to corner, lap to lap will have undoubtedly put a cap on maximum performance and the ability to perform consistently, purely inherently with the car's characteristics, especially when you're pushing 110%.

neither driver has reached their ceiling yet, and to try and predict the outcome in this intra-team rivalry as anything other than just "closer than last year" feels a little presumptuous, and does a disservice to both of them.

i won't touch on the sprint win vs. no wins argument for lando and oscar when only "freak" wins have been available to either of them so far, and doesn't really hold water when really assessing talent in depth in the midst of extremely dominated eras of f1. especially when the strategy department of mclaren is still a bit crap.

but yeah. i imagine lando will remain ahead, but it should be closer just by virtue of oscar now having f1 experience at all of these tracks now, and the combined experience of a year in f1 and the comprehensive f1 testing programme he went through with both mclaren and alpine over 2022-2023.

it'll be interesting to see how lando specifically will develop if he's given a car competitive enough that he doesn't have to compromise his personal aspirations (eg. risks in w2w racing, strategy risks, putting it all on the line for a win) to prioritise the team result. until now mclaren has been prioritising low-risk racing, low-risk strategy and low-damage costs for the sake of what is essentially a midfield wcc each year lando's been there, amidst what has essentially been a money-strapped rebuilding phase.

we've only seen glimpses of how aggressive of a racer lando can be by virtue of him also being a smart racer who knows when it's actually worth risking something. seeing how oscar fits in at the front-end will be fascinating to see as well.

multiple years down the line, once both are fully mature, the lando/oscar argument will be a fun one to have, because we'll have the proper information to evaluate them with; but we don't as of yet. and that's partially why mclaren's lineup is so exciting :)

there isn't anyway i can properly reply to this whole post because i wouldn't know any better BUT i will say that i soo appreciate talks like this. i love talking about the nitty gritty, going deeper than what we see from race to race. im working on really understanding the cars and all that, so it was nice to read this.

thanks for taking the time, truthfully <3

#a-nonnie #hot take hotline #lando norris #oscar piastri #mclaren

[twinsunstars]

Why I Love the Characters of The Bad Batch

(a lil fun post before the chaos increases)

Hi everyone! I've seen some people talk about why they love the characters of the Bad Batch before on here, and I felt like making my own post and discussing how each character from the show speaks to me and why I like them so much. I'll discuss a few characters that I find myself resonating with, and you all can sit back and just listen to me ramble. :)

Hunter

Being the oldest sibling of the Bad Batch and a man who is shorter than his brothers, I relate to Hunter a lot not just because I am the oldest sibling and 5 feet tall. Hunter does everything he can to keep his squad safe and cares for his brothers and sister, and he is often looked towards as the leader of the squad. Many people often come to me for advice. Hunter is a big comfort character for me (and so is the rest of the Batch), and he’s the character I connected with the most ever since the Batch were introduced.

Wrecker

One thing I absolutely love about Wrecker is his playfulness. He isn’t afraid to be himself around others, and it relates to how I show my personality and playfulness around others with ease (not fully though, my insecurity gets in the way haha). He had Lula with him most of the time for comfort, and I’m always sleeping while surrounded by many of my stuffed animals. He knows when it’s time to get serious, especially when things are being hard around him (such as Hunter being really depressed at the start of this season with Omega missing), and he’s there to help comfort others. I love how smart he is. Wrecker spoke to me by helping me understand that I don’t need to be perfect, I just need to be someone who makes me feel happy. I quote Wrecker, “Defective and effective!”

Tech

Tech is honestly me whenever I ramble to others about things. He loves to explain things to people and talk about things that he is really interested about and fascinated by, and it’s me whenever I am around people. His little speech in “The Crossing” was amazing, and I love him for opening up about his feelings slowly that way to Omega. He’s always got his nose buried in his datapad, researching things, and I’m always looking everywhere and reading information whenever something interests me. Tech is an amazing character and will always have a special place in my heart.

Echo

We hear Echo being called the mom of the Batch, and I am often called the mom of my friend group. Echo’s determination to fight for what he believes is right and wants to do makes him one of the characters that motivates me whenever I have things to get done and want to chase my goals and dreams that I have in my life. Echo cares for his brothers and sister, and he’s ready to fight for the right things. He’s also a soft sweetheart.

Crosshair

The main thing about Crosshair that I resonate with the most (especially this season) is his path of healing. Ever since that scene where Omega teaches him to meditate to help his shaking hand, I was breathing along with them. Since the beginning of this year, I set myself onto a slowly paced journey to heal from all that I went through last year. Watching Crosshair start to heal on his own just warmed my heart and had me following along with Omega’s meditation lesson so I could work on healing just like Crosshair was. Crosshair’s been through a lot of suffering with the previous seasons, and it’s time for him to start healing from all of that. Even though the show has a lot more pain for him in store likely T-T

Omega

Omega is such a little sweetheart, and watching her grow up over the seasons has been emotional for me. She was this little naive girl in Season 1, and she is still young, but she’s maturing really fast. With all of the things she’s been going through each season, it’s likely one of the reasons why. Omega’s been learning from her brothers and learning a lot about the galaxy she lives in, starting to expand on her knowledge and understanding the rights and wrongs of the world around her. I learned a lot of things at a young age and it’s part of how I started being seen as mature at a young age because of this, and there was a lot of things I went through at a young age that caused me to mature quickly. Omega still has her playful and optimistic nature inside of her, and I love that side of her.

Emerie

Yes, I even found myself resonating with Emerie at one point for good reason. The reason why I personally resonate with Emerie is because I see her naive side in me. I grew up being an obedient girl with my parents and mostly doing what they told me to do, and I often easily believed things that they told me. Emerie has grown up believing that the world around her isn’t safe and if she stays in one place and follows what she is told to do, then everything will be okay. I saw myself in her after realizing this, and Emerie has a lot to learn in the coming episodes.

With four episodes left, The Bad Batch has been such a great show and they will continue to be part of my long list of comfort characters. It’ll cause pain, but it’s still a great addition to my life, adding color, happiness, and sadness to my heart.

#star wars #the bad batch #the bad batch spoilers #the bad batch season 3 #the bad batch omega #the bad batch hunter #the bad batch wrecker #the bad batch tech #the bad batch crosshair #emerie karr #tbb #sw tbb #tbb s3 #tbb hunter #clone force 99 #sw tbb s3 #star wars tbb #star wars the bad batch

[crusherthedoctor]

Hi! I just thought I’d throw my hat into the ring with the whole conversation about the whole tails being willing to use his weapons more if it wasn’t for sonics interruption because as much as admit that some people can take it to far (just like on any side of the fandom with any character or idea) I think the actual idea of it is being misinterpreted.

The idea that I’ve seen always centres around how they respect each other, tails before he met sonic is a knowledges by multiple sources that he had a rough upbringing before he met sonic, this is mainly shown through the bullying that has left such an impact on his self-esteem he’s still dealing with it in recent games and still trying to overcome it. Tails is also skilled in making weapons, things he can use to defend himself and his friends.

Now no one’s saying that sonic known about the weapons or that he’s a weapons expert because that isn’t really what the head canon is about and I’ve never really seen anyone say that to be honest? The head canon mainly comes form the idea of ‘what if something went wrong and his friends were hurt and tails saw it as a last option’ this brings us back to tails upbringing

And as much as some people like to make him act more mature this is still an eight year old child who for half of his life basically was bullied so bad that it’s still impacting him. The headcanon usually (it can vary from person to person) makes tails feel the need to defend the people or things that have defended him. Mainly sonic usually.

So since tails is smart it’s only natural that he’d be quicker to the opinion ‘if I took the threat out I’d never have to deal with it again’ because it’s the most logical conclusion. I think where the head canon is mainly misinterpreted is that I don’t think anyone’s saying that tails is using his weapons on every single opponent or every single threat that comes his way. From what I’ve seen is that if it comes down to the last few options in a split second his mind will go to that logical conclusion.

However, sonic basically raised him. Sonic wouldn’t even have to literally point out what tails is doing (most of the time) because tails stops himself, because Tails knows that what he’s doing is something against his own moral code

It’s the way sonic raised him and it’s the way tails lives his life.

I think the headcanons mostly just ‘survival instinct vs moral code’ and I think that’s why people like it so much, it’s less about tails being reliant on sonic (which is what I think it’s being misinterpreted as) and more Tails respecting the way sonic raised him and the moral code he was raised to believe in to not forget it even in the heat of a battle

I apologise if I'm blunt, but you're missing the forest for the trees with all this.

This post wasn't really about Tails' willingness to use weapons. Rather, it was about fans' penchant for infantilizing Tails to the point of exaggeration, despite him showing capabilities even before Sonic showed up in his life. Tails has been enriched by Sonic, he's even said as much, but there was never an indication in the games that he would become a psychopath without him.

It removes too much agency on Tails' part for the sake of leaning too hard on Sonic's ability to affect others around him. No amount of headcanons and "well, he is a kid"-style justifications can salvage Tails straight up being done dirty. Rationalizing it is all very well in the realm of fanfiction, but not so much when dealing with the official work proper, when everything has already came, went, and influenced fandom mentality for the worse.

#Crusher's Asks #Opinion #Sonic the Hedgehog #Miles Tails Prower

[xenodile]

Alphinaud and Alisaie are my favorite characters in FFXIV and I ship them both with my WoL but I do not trust anyone else that does the same because they invariably get it Wrong. I've only seen one person on twitter that really Gets It.

Alphinaud is a petty, selfish prick that came to Eorzea with a messiah complex because his grandpa saved Eorzea five years ago and now Alphinaud wants to prove himself by doing the same. He's got a massive ego because he was the youngest and smartest kid in school but didn't actually have any friends because his male peers couldn't stand how much a smug arrogant control freak he was, while his female peers just fawned over a cute boy that was trying so very hard to prove how smart and mature he was, so he has no idea of how to actually view other people as equals, and it only gets worse when he actually succeeds at saving Eorzea with that self-important mindset. The only person he actually has any respect for is his sister, and even to her he's an arrogant control freak.

He has a grudge against Minfilia because she's the actual leader of the Scions and inheritor of Louisoix's staff and legacy, which Alphinaud feels belong to him as Louisoix's grandson, and he makes no effort to hide that contempt by controlling the Warrior of Light, working independently of the other Scions, telling her how to run the organization, and ultimately forming the Crystal Braves to replace the Scions.

His relationship with the Warrior of Light is one that starts as manipulation, he needs a pawn to set his plans in motion, so he waits until the Warrior of Light is isolated and without guidance to step in and introduce himself as the brilliant leader that will save the day and outlines how everything will be fine if they listen to him. In the course of this he develops a fondness for the Warrior of Light, but not really as a person, more a favored tool or a pet. He sees them as his property and is more than happy to rub the WoL's willingness to listen to him in Minfilia's face.

This all changes at the Bloody Banquet, when the Crystal Braves are seized by Lolorito, Raubhan is maimed, Nanamo is "assassinated", those loyal to Alphinaud are killed, and the Scions are framed for it all. Having his perfectly laid plan that he shamelessly copied from his grandfather fall apart overnight and having a tremendous amount of blood dumped on his hands is a severe wake up call. It forces him to acknowledge that he was playing with people's lives as though they were disposable, including those that trusted and wholeheartedly believed in him. He also meets Estinien, who doesn't respect his noble heritage, who doesn't immediately listen to every little thing he says, but is nonetheless willing to help him try and fix things. It changes how Alphinaud views other people and makes him start actually respecting others, as well as makes him second guess his own brilliance because his plan was not as perfect as he thought, and a lot of people got hurt because of it.

Alphinaud has the classic arc of pride going before the fall, and his recovery from that self-righteous worldview that lead to it happening, and his relationship with the Warrior of Light becoming one of mutual respect after initially seeing them as a tool. And this extends to all people, as he sees the cost of war, of how the actions of those that believe themselves righteous, wise, or justified costs the lives of innocent people, Alphinaud becomes more of a humanitarian, valuing each and every person sometimes more than he values himself. He's characterized by the regret he feels for his selfishness and spends the entire rest of the story trying to atone for it.

Alisaie, by contrast, is a stubborn, asocial bitch with a chip on her shoulder who came to Eorzea to see what's so special about it that the one person she truly respected and admired went and killed himself for it, only to be disappointed. Growing up with Alphinaud means Alisaie has a very deep set inferiority complex. No matter what she does she'll always be comparing herself to her perfect, top of the class, most popular* boy in school twin brother. She similarly had no friends but it was because she was so busy pushing herself to keep up with Alphinaud that she neglected all social interaction, made worse by the fact she she's a lesbian that kept getting hit on by older girls because they thought she was her brother, only for them to then be disappointed she's actually just Alphinaud's sister. The only person that doesn't treat her as second banana and respects her as an individual is her grandpa, so she's understandably distraught when he leaves home when she's 11 years old and dies a few months later in a foreign country. It would be hard for her not to start feeling like there's no reason to live.

When Alisaie arrives in Eorzea, she's already very misanthropic. She wants someone to blame for Louisoix's death and is holding the greater populace of Eorzea responsible, so when the combined populations of three nations aren't shining beacons of moral purity and enlightenment, she feels pretty justified in hating the world and resenting her grandfather for abandoning her in favor of a bunch of savages. She still wants to believe in him of course, she's still grieving and wants to find some meaning or closure for the death of the one person that made her feel like she was worth anything, so she delves into the Binding Coils.

It's here when we start seeing the cracks in Alisaie's worldview. She's so fixated on Louisoix and his loss, and so deep in her own self-loathing, that she's blind to the good in the world. She doesn't recognize that there are people that really do like her and care for her, because in her self-doubt and isolation, she convinced herself that her grandpa was the only person that even knew she existed. Urianger gets the WoL to go after Alisaie, and Alphinaud pulls strings to make sure her investigation goes smoothly because they both care about her. The servants her parents sent with her nearly die trying to help her because they believe in helping her find closure, but she doesn't even remember their names because in her eyes, everyone around her might as well not exist because she thinks they don't see her as a person.

Alisaie's frustration is rooted in helplessness. She couldn't "catch up" to Alphinaud, no matter how hard she tried in school he was always smarter and more well liked. She couldn't stop Louisoix from going to Eorzea, and now he's dead. She wants to find the truth behind the 7th Umbral Calamity, but she can't get past the Allagan defenses without help.

At every step she feels isolated because she's not good enough, not strong enough, there's always someone or something better that renders her efforts meaningless. But once she starts making progress with help, she starts to turn around. She initially begrudges the Warrior of Light just because they're the nearest person when she's frustrated that she needs help, but it quickly gives way because getting answers and actually accomplishing what she wants, even if it's indirectly, is a euphoric feeling when she's spent so much of her life feeling like she can't do anything at all.

Alisaie is given three foils across the story of Binding Coils: the Warrior of Light, Nael van Darnus, and Bahamut.

The WoL is proof of Alisaie's weakness, the hero she has to rely on to actually achieve anything because she herself is powerless, but by the same token, is proof that Alisaie isn't alone. The fact she has someone willing to help her, who is in turn evidence of other people willing to help her, shows that her doubt and lack of confidence are self-imposed and she's capable of more than she believes. The Warrior of Light inspires her and gives her something she wants to become, the person that CAN make changes and in turn help others, moving her away from the selfish focus on her brother being adored by others,

Nael van Darnus is initially framed as the one responsible for Louisoix's death, leader of the XIVth legion that invaded Eorzea, the one that started the Meteor Project, and Alisaie is set to hate him. But then it's revealed that Nael is actually his unnamed, unknown twin sister, who carried on her brother's legacy after he died to bring forth the Meteor Project and both her Bahamut's puppets the entire time, showing they too were powerless in spite of all they did. This is obviously reflecting how Alisaie herself ended up isolated and alone as she pushed herself to try and match her idealized idea of Alphinaud's competence and talent, and how self-destructive that kind of idolization of a loved one is. (Which in turn also plays into Alphinaud mimicking Louisoix in the main story)

And finally is Bahamut himself, the dreadwyrm, the elder primal. Unilaterally the single strongest entity in the world, if not the game as a whole, who spent the past several millennia trapped in a cage incapable of acting until he broke free in a single moment of rage and grief. This is the final step in changing Alisaie's worldview, as she sees even the most powerful entity in existence can also be helpless, unable to do anything to protect what it loves, letting hatred and resentment brew in its heart until it's blind to everything around it, just like Alisaie herself was in the wake of Louisoix's death.

The expedition forces Alisaie to understand that strength and agency are not the same thing, and power does not guarantee success or prevent failure. She understands that value in reaching out to others when she feels weak or alone, and how she in turn can be there when others need that help.

But that's not the end of the road for her development. While she takes what she learned in Binding Coils to heart, she still develops a bit of a fixation on the Warrior of Light as the hero that allowed her to come to this revelation and gave her the closure she needed, and she starts to think of them as invincible. They become the new goal she aspires to chase, like she used to chase Alphinaud to be recognized and adored like he was, now she wants to stand on equal footing to the Warrior of Light and be recognized by them. However, Stormblood and Shadowbringers both give her pretty harsh wake up calls that the Warrior of Light is in fact, not invincible. She's reminded of Bahamut's helplessness when her hero in turn stumbles and must rely on her and the other Scions in their moments of weakness. Her goal shifts away from wanting the WoL's recognition for her strength, but to be someone they can always look to for support and be capable of providing it, because Alisaie knows she can always look to the WoL for support.

And the reason I type all this out, when I feel the need to explain it all in such exacting detail, is because I see so many depictions of them that just don't get it. Depictions that reduce them to stupid kids with no emotional depth, that write them off as innocent and naive with no capacity for wrong doing. That simplify them to "hot headed fight girl with a crush on the main character" and "kind hearted fancy lad with no common sense" with no understanding or even acknowledgement of their development and the nuance of their stories.

Which is why I just don't trust anyone else with them, except that one person on twitter that remembers that Alphinaud was like one more win away from becoming a RPG villain in his own right.

#Abby plays FFXIV #Alphinaud Leveilleur #Alisaie Leveilleur