#i just want them to own an apartment and hold down shitty jobs and smoke weed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theladyofdeath · 3 years

Text

Tempting the Fates {Chapter 6}

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

A @snelbz x @tacmc collaboration.

Word Count: 3080

** N S F W **

Chapters will be posted every Wednesday.

Tempting the Fates Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Aphrodite

– Goddess of love, beauty, and desire

The second Aelin stepped into Rowan’s apartment, silence ensued. With the door shut behind them, Aelin felt like his apartment had significantly shrunk in size since the last time she had been there.

Granted, everything looked the same. The blanket that was draped across his leather sectional in his living room still laid in the same spot, his television was still quietly playing a hockey game, and his laptop sat on his coffee table. Only, this time, there wasn’t a mug of coffee next to it but a nearly-empty bottle of beer.

“So,” Aelin began, just as Rowan said, “Sorry, it’s a mess.”

Aelin blinked, looking around at his pristine apartment. “This is what you consider a mess?”

Rowan looked around before chuckling, nervously. “Yeah, well, there’s….dust.”

Aelin nodded, slowly, continuing to look around. “Well, here’s your clothes,” she said, at last, holding out the bag.

“Thanks,” Rowan muttered, taking the bag from her outstretched hand before tossing it aside. “Do you…want a drink or something? I was just doing some grading.”

“Grading and drinking?” Aelin asked. “Quite the combination.”

Rowan shrugged. “Only makes the shitty papers a little bit better to read.”

“Have you read mine yet?” Aelin asked, before she could think better of it. Rowan hesitated, and Aelin shook her head. “Wow, that was an inappropriate question. Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “You could have asked me that in class and I’d have answered it. I have.”

When he didn’t go on, Aelin cleared her throat awkwardly. “I’ve never taken a mythology course, so I don’t know much about it, save for what Disney taught me. Which apparently was all wrong, anyways.” She tucked a loose hair behind her ear and cleared her throat again. Maybe coming here was a bad idea. “But music, I do know a lot about, so Apollo seemed like a safe bet. Even if I’m sure I sounded stupid and-.”

“You didn’t,” he interrupted, leaning against the counter. “Your essay is the only one I’ve read that seemed like a real opinion piece, and not like you’re trying to blow smoke up my ass and impress me with your knowledge. This is an introduction class, remember? You aren’t supposed to be a scholar of mythology yet. I liked how honest it was.”

Aelin blinked. “Really?”

Rowan nodded, his eyes remaining on hers. It made Aelin’s heart beat a little bit faster. “Yeah, it was great. I love to hear your thoughts, and I’m excited to hear more of them.”

Aelin nodded and took a deep breath. She should have turned and walked out, told him goodbye, but she couldn’t. Her feet were glued to the floor, her heart nearly ready to beat out of her chest. Her thoughts trailed to the last time she was here, when she’d met the most abundant amount of pleasure she had ever received, and left smitten and wanting more.

From the way the light in his eyes shifted, Aelin knew that Rowan was thinking the same thing.

“I should go,” Aelin said, quietly.

“Yeah,” Rowan agreed.

Neither of them moved.

“You could’ve kept the clothes,” Rowan continued, swallowing. “You didn’t have to come all the way here.”

“I thought you’d want them back,” Aelin said, even though she wasn’t really sure that she even truly believed that.

Every second more that Rowan stared at her, and she stared back, a throbbing formed between her thighs. Rowan said, “You look better in them than I do.”

Aelin swallowed. “I should go,” she repeated.

“Do you want to go?” Rowan asked, hardly more than a whisper.

Aelin remained where she was, watching him, her chest rising and falling, rapidly, with each heavy breath she took.

She slowly shook her head, and before she could form an intelligible thought, Rowan was coming toward her, taking her waist into his hands, and claiming her mouth with his.

She melted into his touch, her hands diving into his hair, holding her against him. He wasted no time, lifting her and setting her on the counter behind her, and stepping between her legs. Aelin gently nibbled on his lip and he opened for her, his tongue sweeping into her mouth just as hers did the same. His hands were still sitting on her waist, but hers were less than idle.

Finding the hem of his shirt, her fingers ran over the abdomen muscles she couldn’t get out of her head. He pulled his lips from hers as a shudder wracked through him and he let out a shaking breath.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” he admitted, pulling her to the edge of the counter and grinding against her.

Aelin’s lashes fluttered as she let out a soft moan. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, either.”

His lips were on hers again, hungrily, longingly, and all conversation faded away as Aelin pulled off Rowan’s shirt and ran her hands through his messy, short silvery hair.

Rowan muttered a curse against Aelin’s mouth, and she felt a fire ignite within her core. She wanted it. Gods, she wanted it, wanted him. She knew it was wrong, knew there were boundaries that shouldn’t be crossed, knew the schools had rules, knew employers had rules, but as his mouth trailed from her lips to her neck, just beneath her jaw, Aelin had a really, really hard time caring about any of that.

His hands slid beneath her top, feeling cool and needy against her skin.

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop,” he murmured between the kisses that trailed down her neck. She knew he would, too. One word, and it was done, over.

But, despite the rules, she begged, “Don’t fucking stop.”

That was all Rowan needed to hear. He pulled her shirt over her head, his lips immediately finding her skin again. His kisses trailed from her neck to her shoulder and he pushed the strap of her bra down. His hand did the same with the other and as soon as the straps were free, he reached behind her and unclasped it.

Dropping his head, his mouth closed around her nipple and his tongue circled the sensitive peak. Aelin’s moan was louder than she meant for it to be, but Rowan didn’t try to stifle it. Instead his hand found her breast, rolling her other nipple between his fingers.

Aelin swore, and it had Rowan moaning, muffled, palming her breast as his teeth tugged on her nipple as his free hand made its way into the back of her leggings.

When he realized that she wore no panties, he was about to combust.

Aelin’s hands dove into his hair and she pulled his head back. “I need you. Now.”

Rowan’s only response was finding Aelin’s mouth again with his own, and shoving his sweatpants down onto the kitchen floor. His hard length was on perfect display inside of his boxer-briefs. When Aelin palmed him, he grabbed her off of the counter and carried her into the living room, dropping her down onto the couch. Before he covered his body with hers, he yanked off her leggings and tossed them aside.

He groaned as she continued to rub him through his underwear until he finally couldn’t take it anymore, needing to feel her skin on his. He intended to take them off, but only got as far as freeing his length before she wrapped her hand around him and stroked once, twice. His head fell into the crook of her neck and he did his best not to look like an inexperienced teenager, but he bucked his hips into her hands, groaning again.

This was all he’d been able to think of for the past few days, ever since he saw her in his classroom. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of taking her against every free surface in the hall, as well as in his office. He didn’t have a chance to explain that to her though, as she shifted beneath him and lined him up at her entrance.

She was all slick skin and warm, soft wetness and he pushed into her. With a breathy sigh, her head fell back, eyes rolling back, and he took advantage of her attention elsewhere to look down at where they were joined. Watching as his hips rocked into hers, he breathed her name, gripping her hip and fighting the urge to press her down into the cushions with his weight.

Aelin’s hands snaked around the back of Rowan’s neck and she pulled him against her, kissing him, urgently. Rowan pulled out slowly before thrusting himself back into her, over and over and over again, relentlessly. It felt so good, so right. He kept his pace, pushing into her harder each time, until she was screaming, his name falling from her lips continuously.

Rowan’s moan became muffled against her neck as her knees began to quiver around him. As he felt her come, he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer.

When he came, Aelin was clinging to him, still coming down from her high.

Rowan’s body fell against hers, and her body remained wrapped around his as they caught their breaths.

She was unable to stop herself from running her fingers up and down his back, even going so far as to brush them through the short hair at the nap of his neck. There was no question what he would say after he pulled out and cleaned her up.

This was a mistake.

We shouldn’t have done that.

You need to go.

Aelin wasn’t sure which it would be or if it would be some mixture of the three. All she knew is that it would hurt.

Seeing him in class every day, knowing that this connection existed between them, aside from just sex, was going to hurt.

Pulling back, his green eyes found hers and she braced herself for him to ask her to leave.

But then he kissed her again.

“I was going to order dinner,” he said, lips still brushing hers. “If you want to stay.”

Aelin hesitated, but not because she didn’t want to stay.

Rowan picked up on it, though. “Or, if you don’t want to…” he began, pushing himself up off of her.

Aelin shook her head and held onto him, pulling him back down on top of her. “No, it’s not that, it’s the opposite.” She laughed, quietly. “I was just…preparing myself for you to say…anything but that.”

Rowan’s eyes softened as he nodded, slowly. “So…you do want to stay, then?”

Aelin brushed his damp hair off of his forehead. “Am I allowed to stay?”

“Right now, what we’re allowed to do is the last thing on my mind,” Rowan breathed, leaning down to kiss her softly. “Right now, all I’m thinking about is ordering dinner and having you here with me.”

She nodded, smiling softly. “That sounds nice.”

“Okay,” he replied, returning her smile. “Stay here. I’ll be back.”

“Okay.”

Just as he did the last time, he returned with a warm rag, wiping her off and cleaning her up. He also returned with his shirt, the one she’d intended to return, rather than her clothes.

“I’m on the pill, by the way,” she said, glancing over at him as he pulled his own sweatpants back on.

He blinked once, as if he’d just realized they hadn’t used a condom.

And he’d come inside her.

“I…really should have asked before I just assumed.” He rubbed at the back of his neck again. “I’m sorry.”

Aelin chuckled, quietly. “Don’t worry. If I wasn’t prepared, I wouldn’t have let you inside of me to begin with.”

“Fair enough,” Rowan said, sitting next to her on the couch. “In my defense, our last…encounter is still a little fuzzy when it comes to the little details.”

When they’d been together last, there had been a lot of alcohol…and Rowan couldn’t remember if he’d used a condom then, but he couldn’t imagine that he had.

He sent up a quick thank you to the gods for the creation of birth control.

Now, he put his arm around Aelin as he pulled up the menu to a little local Mexican restaurant a block down the road. “What’re you in the mood for?”

Aelin hummed and looked through the menu as Rowan scrolled through it. “Chimichanga. And a taco. Make it two. With a side of rice. And a bowl of queso.”

Rowan gave her an amused glance as he entered all of her requests into the cart.

“What?” She asked, huffing a laugh. “You’re the reason I worked up an appetite.”

“Fair enough,” he laughed and pressed a kiss to her temple. He ordered their food, thankful that his favorite restaurant down the road was still serving margaritas to-go, and then set his phone aside.

It was quiet for a minute and when he glanced over at Aelin, she was brushing the end of a lock of her hair over her lips.

He loosened it from her fingers and she looked over at him. “What’s on your mind?”

She shrugged. “I’m trying to figure out where we’re going from here, what we’re doing…”

She was still only wearing his shirt, her leggings and own shirt still strewn somewhere around his kitchen. He turned to face her, brushing his thumb across her cheekbone. “It’s been less than a week and I can’t get you off my mind. I’ve tried, but… I don’t want to.”

Aelin hesitated. “I feel the same way. But….your job-.”

“I’ll keep my job-.”

“And my future-.”

“I won’t ask you to do this if you don’t want to do this,” Rowan said. “I’m more than willing to keep us a secret. I just want to be with you.”

“I want to be with you, too,” Aelin breathed. “But is it really a relationship if we have to hide all the time?”

“You won’t be in school forever,” he said, taking her face into his hands. “Soon, you’ll graduate and then we won’t have to hide anymore.”

She was quiet for another moment, so he added, “You wanted to date me before you found out who I was. If you’re not interested anymore because of that, I get it—.”

“It’s not that,” she replied, leaning into his palm. “I just worry about the consequences.”

“Damn the consequences,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss her. “And we’ll be careful, to make sure nobody knows. Not a soul.”

She made a face and for a second, he got worried, but she said, “I may have gotten wine drunk on Tuesday and told my roommate. But she’s my best friend, and she wouldn’t tell anyone.”

Chuckling, he nodded. “I got whiskey drunk and told mine. So we’re even.”

That made her laugh and the sight and sound loosened the strain in his chest,

“How do we do this?” She asked, covering one of his hands with hers.

“Carefully,” he said, and kissed her, slowly. “And one day at a time.”

“I can do that,” she said, and climbed into his lap, straddling his waist.

“Me too,” he promised.

“We’ll have to lay down some ground rules,” he replied, his hands immediately finding her ass. He hadn’t forgotten she wasn’t wearing underwear. “Like minimal contact in class. We can’t seem too…familiar.”

She nodded. “That’s reasonable. And no special treatment from you. I’m still your student, whether we’re having sex or not.”

“Special treatment?” He chuckled, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, like you can’t grade my papers or exams easier because we’re sleeping together.” She was running her hands over his bare chest, following the lines of his tattoo. Her eyes met his and went wide. “Or harder. Not unless you’re willing to give extra tutor sessions.”

Rowan rolled his eyes, but leaned up, capturing her lips in a kiss. “I promise, I’ll treat you just like every other student I have. Except for the fact that we’re having sex. That is just for you.”

“So,” she mumbled, acting shy all of a sudden. Rowan thought it was adorable. “You’re saying we’re exclusive?”

Rowan’s eyes softened. “I sure as hell don’t want to be seeing anyone else.”

“Pretty sure that’s the definition of exclusive,” she said.

Rowan huffed a laugh, his fingers gripping her ass a little tighter. “Then yes, smart ass.”

Aelin’s grin widened. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Rowan pulled her closer into him before kissing her, yet again.

He liked kissing Aelin.

He didn’t think he would ever grow tired of kissing Aelin.

“So what excuse should I give to women when they throw themselves at me?” Rowan asked. “You know, since I can’t tell anyone that you’re my girlfriend.”

She snorted. “Do women throw themselves at you often?” His raised eyebrow was enough of an answer. That and Aelin was living proof that, yes, women did throw themselves at him. Chuckling, she said, “Right. Maybe the old, generic excuse of I’m working on myself right now. Don’t really have time for a girlfriend.”

She dropped her voice an octave when she said it, doing a horrible impression of Rowan’s deep voice, but he laughed. “I guess that would work. And you’re obviously so focused on your studies,

since it’s your last semester, that you don’t even have time to think about dating.”

“I do take my studies seriously,” Aelin said, and though her tone was stark, her eyes were playful.

“I can tell you do.” Rowan was leaning in to kiss her again when there was a knock on the front door.

They both jumped, Aelin going so far as to climb off of his lap, when Rowan realized it was their dinner.

She blushed as he went to retrieve it, grabbing two glasses for the margaritas.

“Are you going to jump every time we order food?” Rowan asked, sitting next to her with a pile of to-go boxes. He handed her a margarita.

Aelin chuckled as she took it. “Are you?”

Rowan sipped from his glass as he grinned. When he set it on the coffee table, he said, “I guess this will just take some getting used to.”

“I guess it will,” Aelin agreed, pulling her knees up on the couch as she began to flip open the boxes. “But I’m okay with that.”

Rowan leaned over to kiss her, softly, as he said, “Me too.”

#rowaelin #fanfic #snacmc ttf #rowaelin ttf #rowan #aelin #tog #modern au #college au #fanfiction #sjm #snacmc collab

145 notes · View notes

rebelwrites · 3 years

Text

Secret Relationship

Harvey Specter x Reader

Summary: The reader and Harvey have known each other for years, despite the age difference something changes for both of them.

Prompt: “I apologise sincerely if my handsome face has kept you awake all night.”

A/N: this was a similar dream I had last night and was the inspo I needed to write.

Join The TagList Here 💜 // Harvey Specter Masterlist // Rebels Writing Challenge Masterlist

Neither of you knew how it happened, it just did. One day you saw the one and only Harvey Specter in a different light and he was the same with you.

You had known him for years with him being a friend of the family, and you always had a crush on him but never acted on it because let’s face it you were ten years younger than him and he was your dad’s best friend. But that didn’t stop you swooning over him every time he came round for dinner or when he would help you with your studying.

But fast forward to you finishing law school, he helped you land a job at the firm.

It was a week before you were due to start as an associate, which was a perfect excuse to go shopping to get a more suitable wardrobe for work. So here you were on a Friday night sorting your wardrobe out to make room for your new clothes when you heard your doorbell ring, leaving you slightly puzzled as you weren't expecting anyone and hadn’t ordered food yet.

Pausing your music, you made your way to the door, the only sound was your bare feet on the hardwood floor. Without thinking you opened the door to see Harvey standing there, with that goddamn smile that made you fall for him all those years ago.

“Harvey” you said, looking down at your appearance and suddenly feeling self conscious as you stood there in your plaid pyjama shorts and a vest top with no bra on. Your hair was a mess from not long getting out the shower and you had no makeup on.

“What are you doing here?” You finally managed to mumble letting him into your apartment.

“Well I thought I would stop by as we never celebrated you finishing law school and landing a job at the firm” he smirked waving the bottle of scotch in his hand.

“Urm yeah sure” you mumbled as your skin heated up from embarrassment. “Let me go get changed”

“Sweetheart what’s got you all nervous?” He asked with a smirk on his face as he stepped closer to you.

He knew, of course he knew. This was Harvey Specter. He wasn’t stupid. And you were damn sure he could hear how fast your heart was pounding against your rib cage.

The words were stuck in your throat, your feet were frozen in place.

“You don’t need to get changed okay” he whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “In fact I’m going to get changed myself”

“You don’t have any clothes here Harvey” you mumbled feeling confused about why he would be getting changed.

“I brought a change of clothes with me” he winked, picking up his duffel bag from your sofa, the bag you were too preoccupied to notice.

So here you were standing in the middle of your apartment feeling like a teenage girl again. Trying to decide if Harvey was actually flirting with you or if you had made it all up in your head.

“Everything okay sweetheart?” Harvey asked, squeezing your shoulders.

“Yeah why wouldn’t it be?” You stuttered mentally cursing yourself. “But isn’t this inappropriate?”

“Why do you ask that?” He asked.

“Because you are my dad's best friend Harvey, there’s ten years between us and come next week you will essentially be my boss” you sighed realising that this might be the best you would get with the man you had spent so many nights dreaming of.

“Listen to me okay” he whispered, spinning you around so you were facing him, his hands resting on your hips and his thumb gently grazing your skin. “I don’t know when it happened but recently I can’t get you out of my head, and I guess I wanted to test the waters. I know that the timing probably isn’t great but I can’t hold back any longer. And don’t say you don’t want this to happen because I’ve seen the looks you give me when you think I’m not looking”

“This has got to be a dream” you mumbled biting down on your lip.

“If this was a dream would I be able to do this?” He smirked before his lips made contact with yours.

It took you a couple of seconds to realise what was happening. But the moment you did your arms wrapped around his neck and he pulled you closer to him. It was like your body was electric, the sparks you felt as he deepened the kiss, it was like you were floating. And you didn’t even realise he had walked you back to your sofa until you landed on the soft fabric with him on top of you.

“Do you think we can make this work?” You whispered against his lips, your eyes still closed.

“I’m willing to give it a try if you do” he whispered before gently kissing you again.

You and Harvey had now been dating for seven months now and not a soul knew. How you had both managed to keep the relationship secret when you basically worked together you had no clue. But you didn’t realise things were going to get harder.

Letting yourself into his apartment, a smile graced your face as the smell of your boyfriend filled your senses making you relax. Harvey was still at the office but that didn’t mean you couldn’t start dinner. You knew he would be stressed when he got back but you didn’t realise that would lead to your secret being harder to keep.

You were in your own little and didn't hear Harvey get back until you felt his arms wrap around your waist and his head rest on your shoulder.

“God I love getting home to find you here in just my shirt” he whispered “you make the shitty days better”

“What happened in the meeting?” You asked as you span around, running your hand through his hair.

“As punishment I’m now in charge of the associates” he whispered.

“Well we will just have to be even more sneaky then won’t we” you whispered trying to keep him calm. “You might have to calm down on the sneaky kisses”

“Nope not doing it” he pouted “your kisses get me through the day”

“We will figure something out” you whispered, kissing him softly.

It was now the next morning and tired was an understatement considering Harvey kept you up most of the night. Wandering into the kitchen you grabbed your smokes on the way and headed out to the balcony. To find Harvey sat out here reading the paper. He had already brought your coffee out with him.

“Go easy on me today” you laughed. “Seen as it is your fault I’m so tired”

“I didn’t hear you complaining at the time sweetheart” he winked putting his paper down. “But I apologise sincerely if my handsome face has kept you awake all night.”

“Hmmm” you winked while lighting your cigarette.

“I best get going” he smiled standing up placing a kiss on your head “I shall see you at the office”

Walking through the office with a very large coffee in hand you knew you were late but didn’t care you needed the caffeine today. What you didn’t expect was to see Harvey sat at your desk, leaning back in your chair.

“Nice of you to join us today, miss Y/L/N” he scolded.

“Morning to you to” you scoffed, rolling your eyes at him.

“Less of the attitude please, you show up late to work and have the audacity to sass me” Harvey snapped shaking his head. “I’m pulling you on the case you were working on and you can find yourself going over the 30 briefs that are in the filing room and I want them done by lunch”

“But” you tried to speak but he interrupted you.

“No buts now go, they aren’t going to read themselves” he smirked as he pulled his phone out.

As you were walking to the file room your phone buzzed.

New message: Specter 💜

Great acting baby, don’t worry there is only like two briefs I’m not gonna do my girl dirty like that 😜 x

Shaking your head as you pushed the door open. You saw Donna leaning against the desk with a smirk on her face. Since you started working at the firm you and her got extremely close.

“So Y/N is there anything you want to tell me?” She grinned.

“Urm Nope” you shrugged, placing your bag and phone on the desk. Forgetting that your phone was unlocked and your background was you and Harvey laid in bed.

“You may want to keep your phone locked if you don’t want people to know about you and Harvey” she whispered.

“Oh shit” you panicked fumbling for your phone.

“It’s fine I knew about you two a couple of months ago” she smirked “I mean it didn’t take me long to out two and two together”

“Please don’t say anything” you pleaded.

“Only if you come for drinks tonight and tell me everything” she grinned.

“Deal” you nodded just as Harvey walked into the room with that cocky smirk on his face.

“I shall leave you two alone” Donna winked “don’t worry I will text you if anyone comes”

As she walked off she smirked at Harvey before leaving the room.

“What was that about?” He asked as he pulled you close to him.

“She knows about us” you laughed.

“Of course she does” Harvey chuckled “she is Donna after all”

“I think it’s time we came clean with my dad” you whispered.

“I was thinking the same thing sweetheart how about we invite him over for dinner tonight and don’t worry no matter what his reaction is I will still be here and it will not change how much I love you” he smiled kissing you softly.

#harvey specter oneshot #harvey specter imagine #harvey specter x reader #harvey specter #suits imagine #suits x reader #suits usa

516 notes · View notes

flowerflamestars · 3 years

Note

i remember that you once said something about privateer nesta could you elaborate? please? *shrek cat eyes*

WHO TOLD YOU I AM COMPLETELY VULNERABLE TO THE CAT EYES??

okay, so admittedly I don't remember the context in which I said this?? But I still SUPER super love the idea

and it matches with what we'll call the Dream ACOTAR Extended Universe Plot, almost canon.

We begin with the final battle against Hybern. Tamlin dies, closing the loop of his tragic, misspent life. Amren stays dead, a magical being on to the next adventure.

Rhysand stays dead.

He functionally (magically) threw himself on a bomb, and took the whole blast. He's not the Cauldron- and no one man could repair what it once was, but he could contain the fatal, drastic implosion of an object that was meant to endure forever, fractured into more and more peices.

Why is this important?

Because it leaves a world where Feyre Archeron- twenty-ish, romantic hero, prop, prisoner- becomes High Lady in her own, true right.

(I don't think she's necessarily good at this job, because why would she be? It's not even her fault- Feyre has no idea about how faery politics work, no real tangible knowledge of her own inherited kingdom.)

But both the men who stole her and defined her and loved her and hurt her are dead.

And it not only sets her on a journey to become, on her own, an actual character in her own life, but it galvanizes the Archeron sisters.

Feyre's basically fucking comatose after the battle. Elain has been a mess this entire time, but after that last fight with Grayson, walking into the war and stabbing a king in the throat- she is as vital and herself as Nesta has seen her in years.

Nesta just watched her father die and felt nothing- and she hates herself for it. She and Elain had taken the head of the man who stole everything from them- and she doesn't have a single regret.

Feyre screamed until she could no longer- there's so much magic seething out her it hurts to look at-

There's a dark well inside herself that could rise. But why should Nesta let it? So what, if she doesn't mourn her father? He'd never cared about her and Elain- not when they were young, too busy and important to even speak to his own children. Not when they lost everything, and he'd tried one last time to sell them both into marriages to recoup the family loss. Not after, in the starving cold, no matter what she'd tried to force him into action.

Nesta had been mourning all along a human girls human life- what is an absent, neglectful, shitty in the most ordinary of ways human parent if not a part of that lost future?

Their sister owns a fucking country- their sister is, at this minute so hemmed in by her followers no one can see her, much less comfort her- there's a war camp falling apart around them- there's Nesta, Elain, and Azriel, unhurt, upright, alive.

(she does not let herself think that an hour before she'd been ready to die and thought it right, the ending the meant to be conclusion of her story. she does not think about how she'd wished Cassian healed beneath her hands and that he had healed, that she'd wept to learn she could do more than destroy.

that she'd still been weeping, her mouth bright with his blood, when he'd pulled away, dragged himself to Morrigan's waiting arms)

Nesta Archeron is alive. Her sisters are alive. They're free, and she'll be fucking damned if this all falls apart before Feyre can heal.

Nesta turns to Azriel and asks if he can take control of the legions.

She has no time for his blank, angry eyes- she knows he's hurt, he's mourning, he's lost- but she needs him. Cassian's...down. Rhys is dead. Feyre and Morrigan are not coming out of that tent.

And he just listens. Thoughtfully. Asks what Nesta intends to do.

And Nesta looks at Elain- soft, kind, gentle Elain who'd never once wavered now when life was on the line. Who hadn't cried a tear for their father, or for the man who'd kidnapped and then married their baby sister.

The danger wasn't over- and neither had the steel faded from Elain's spine.

Nesta tells Azriel she's going to find Keir.

Nesta isn't blind- she's walked the Hewn City, spoken to the eldest darkness. She was also at the joke of a Summit- Autumn wants new territory, Keir wants to rule Night. And here Night is, weakened, a lamb to slaughter.

Nesta's not going to lose again- she's not going to give these ancient, cruel lords another chance.

Elain grabbed her hand and squeezed- the one person, always, who Nesta never need explain herself to.

Aren't the High Fae technically Morrigan's Elain asked, a bare whisper as they walked through the camp.

It went without saying yes, but Nesta had never seen any indication they respected her enough to listen to her. She made a face, and Elain made one right back, rueful. She had eyes too, after all.

They're not going to listen to us in these clothes, Elain also told her.

She was right, of course. They were High Fae, and that mattered to those vile pricks, but they'd been outfitted for flight. She would do almost anything, actually, to be free of leather pants.

Which Elain, a gleam in her eye that Nesta was learning meant magic, dreamy and happy- led her precisely to a gold topped tent, stepped inside, bowed, and asked without a trace of hesitation if Helion Spellcleaver, Lord of Day, would perhaps do them the favor of loaning them some garments.

Solid gold eyes gleaming against blood and smoke tinged dark skin, beautiful, glorious Helion, smiled.

Day-white against Night- but also, Nesta knew, taking care with her crown of a braid, the splatter of blood left on her throat, her mouth, her cheeks like fine paint- white was the color of death.

Elain covered herself completely- shawl wrapped over her hair, tucked around her neck, breathing easier now, in human modesty- but hung from a golden belt that Helion, with the clear air of someone who knew something about seers, had found, metal hammered with stars and flames, was Truthteller, the long blade without a sheathe, black metal swallowing up light.

Keir was easy to find, and in fine form, surrounded by Darkbringers, who looped back behind the sisters the second they were close.

Nesta was not afraid- she'd thrown power into the sky and it had hurt. Not in depth, but because she was still holding on- it wanted out-it wanted to devour-

Elain dipped a flagrantly rude, swallow bob of a curtsey. Nesta didn't even bother- just let Keir hail them, royal family that they were. He liked the sound of his own voice, but he was also clever- they'd come here of their own volition and now they were trapped.

She could smell the reinforcements, the utter Autumn reek.

Nesta interrupted, and asked Keir to come and swear fealty to her sister.

It was never going to get the right answer, but it had to be said. It had to be heard.

She'd been right- they'd been right- Keir enjoyed the cruelty of getting close to Nesta, denying straight to her Archeron face that no, Rhysand's bloodline was ended. It was time, it was right, for the House of Truth to once more hold their throne.

He spoke his treason aloud, looming over Nesta- close enough to touch.

So Nesta did.

She'd willed Cassian alive and whole. It was so, so much easier to remember fire, death, drowning, to push and want the revolting man's destruction.

And when he fell, silvered fire that had filled his lungs spilling from his throat, Nesta did not flinch. She looked to the next lieutenant, a frankly indistinguishable golden haired pale-eyed blandly handsome man in black armor, and asked, if he, as the new commander of the Darkbringers, would like to give a different answer.

He did.

Azriel met them halfway back to Feyre, grim mouth flickering for a second at the sight of Elain, before looking, stone-faced, at Nesta beside her, leading a crowd of the highest ranked Night Court faeries she could find.

Keir? He asked.

Dead, Elain answered, and that was that.

The Shadowsinger fell in step with the Seer, a threatening shadow to two pale beacons.

It was Azriel who actually went inside the tent. Who said what needed to said, what made Morrigan splutter loudly enough to be heard outside, before she burst out the tent in a whorl of hair, before blanching.

Nesta had just enough control not to roll her eyes. They come to swear fealty.

And Morrigan, chewing her lip with all the dignity of a child- Elain and Nesta had been trained out of such gestures at eight, what did she think was happening here? - shook her head. She's not well, it can wait.

No, Azriel said, from behind her, it can't.

He was supporting what looked like the entirety of Feyre's weight. Dead-white, blue eyes a blaze, Feyre looked blearily out at all of them like she recognized no one.

Elain, treasure that she was, came forward to take her sister's other hand, whispering both condolence and explanation.

And so the High Houses of Night knelt in battlefield mud, and swore eternal loyalty to the youngest Archeron.

It was only after they were gone that Nesta hugged her sister- hard enough Feyre protested, a fresh batch of tears soaking Nesta's shoulder even before Elain joined them.

It's Azriel, voice a little less like a phantom, who tells Feyre they're handling things. That if she wants to rest more, that's fine.

She was so clearly shattered- Nesta half wondered how much of that Azriel can literally feel/hear with his shadow...things.

Feyre protests that there's things to do- Feyre makes it halfway through a sentence about plans before she says Rhysand's name like he's still alive and collapses in on herself like a wave crashing.

Nesta and Elain tuck Feyre back into the blanket pile. Nesta manages to kiss her forehead before Morrigan is there, hugging Feyre putting herself bodily between the sisters.

They leave, and outside, Azriel is waiting.

To hand Nesta a gaudy, enormous platinum ring. The seal of the Night Court- Nesta recognizes it from shipping manifests, but she'd never actually seen it as an adult. Here, as a faery.

Her thoughts on Azriel's powers hold true, as he answers the dismay: Rhys only used it when he had to. It had passed between the whole Court of Dreams hands, there had not been a vizier, a lord of stars, since the time of Rhysand's father.

Nesta puts on the hideous ring, barely flinching at the brush of magic, it resizing to her hand.

Elain grasps her other, squeezing, and asks Azriel who is next.

They work ceaselessly, pausing only to sleep. Azriel, Nesta is quite sure, isn't sleeping at all- until she goes looking for him with a question and finds him finally, finally out cold, face tucked in Lucien Vanserra's neck.

In silence and gestures, they come to something of an agreement- and when the Night Court comes to the table to talk peace, it's with Lucien. Jurian, who Nesta immediately liked.

By the time they return to the North, there is not a Lord one who does not know the names and nightmarish qualities of all three Archeron sisters.

Feyre mourns, and learns to govern slow. Cassian goes back to Illyria and does not return for a long, long time. Morrigan becomes Feyre's second- Nesta laughs, not altogether kind, when Lucien tells her this. No one has been able to answer her as to why, if Morrigan is so powerful, why did she not fight? what does she actually do?

What answers to her questions she does find are appalling. Why does Winter block our every turn? oh, Rhysand killed more than a dozen children. Why is Summer refusing our trade? Well, Rhysand stole their ancestral pride. Why is the Hewn City so wrathful at even the slightest form of intervention? Because Rhysand had left Keir to rule alone.

Nesta doesn't want to rule the fucking court. She thinks she could leave all of these politicians to rot- but she won't let Feyre misstep her way to death, shouldering a burden of her dead mate.

There's nothing they can give Winter but apology and so that's what Nesta does. On her knees, in a gilded palace of ice, stars caught in her hair and the seal on her. Kallias, bright and young, seems to know something about inherited problems- he does not ever forget, but he forgives, at least, the Archerons.

Summer is more complicated- but Nesta does what she can. Gives them every melted, ruined piece of the Book. Offers reparations for the next millennia. Ends up paying for what she is appalled and embarrassed to learn is a two hundred year old debt for a building the head of the Night Court's armed forces- Cassian, fucking Cassian the ghost haunting Nesta- had destroyed. During a brawl. At a solstice party.

She deals only with Cressieda, and they come to understand each other very well.

Nesta was not raised for politics and bullshit- her mother wanted her to marry a crown, but Nesta wanted the family empire. Trade. The Archeron legacy, denied to a girl. She likes Summer more than any place in Prythian, and she doesn't hide that. She relearns old lessons of tide and routes in secret, before Cressieda reveals that of course, she knows who the Archerons were.

It goes well, until Morrigan finds out what she's been doing, and tells Feyre.

The youngest Archeron had been doing better. Morrigan has been right by her side, through everything. Cassian is in Illyria, and Feyre understands why, writing him letters. She writes letters to Rhys too, if only to have a way to direct the words.

Azriel, spectral and busy she sees the least of, but Feyre never doubts his presence, keeping her safe. Elain comes, drags her out into sunlight, brings Lucien and it makes Feyre happy to see them together. Nesta comes too, with them both and alone, with papers from Feyre to sign, with affection sharp-edged but true.

Feyre knows she owes them all more than can be said- she's not stupid, she knows they're keeping Night together. That slowly those responsibilities will fall to her, when she's ready.

She does not think about how much of those responsibilities is cleaning up the tangled mess of betrayal Rhysand left behind. In her head, there is only Rhys- beloved and shadowed, kind and tortured.

Until Morrigan tells her that it's been acknowledged, in public, by Night, that Rhysand was a thief, and a murder of children.

Feyre loses her shit.

Rhysand had done what he had to. Who was Nesta, to say such things? She'd always hated Rhys. Rhys had always hated her, maybe he was right- the children. Rhys had mourned them in screaming nightmares, but he hadn't hurt them-

(Feyre does not stop to think it strange, that Rhys could have nightmares of memories not his own. That he might have fractured just a bit, under Amarantha. That the Red Lady had no daemati- that was why she'd kept Rhys all along.)

The fight is as ugly as can be imagined. And what proceeds is of course, worse. Feyre says terrible things she will ultimately regret and apologize for, but what becomes clear is that Morrigan thinks that Nesta means to hold power forever.

That she's taken advantage.

And Cassian, called home by rage, believes her.

That is, more than her ungrateful sister, more than the ongoing weight of cleaning up after a man she despised for good reason, the end of Nesta Archeron's Night Court career.

She'd thought she loved him- she'd been willing to die with him- but they'd lived. This was the life, the next life, and what did he think of her? That Nesta was a power hungry snob. That she was paying too much heed to politics.

That Nesta belonged quietly at home. That she should have learned to fight somewhere along that way- a point so convoluted it made Lucien laugh- that she hadn't learned anything that mattered.

That she had no right to kill Keir, because it had hurt Morrigan.

Had he ever, Nesta would wonder later, even liked her? Enjoyed anything about her but for that magical tether, telling him he was blessed with something special?

Nesta was something special, and she knew it.

And so she returned the ring to Azriel, packed up her possessions, and left.

First to Day, where Elain had bought a house. Fury and tears both met the explanation of what happened- fury and tears that turned to getting inadvisably drunk in sunlight, when Lucien and Azriel snuck away to join them.

For the first time in Nesta's adult life, she had no obligations. Magic, money, freedom- the whole world was out there.

She stopped wearing black. Learned pants where actually lovely, when they fit correctly and weren't made of leather. Learned Azriel could laugh, and Lucien was as clever as she'd always thought.

She read books, she ate fruit, she took Helion up on several of his more lascivious offers.

She thought of Cassian, and it ached, but not enough to go backward.

Elain's house was by the sea, right on the water. The scent of salt reminded Nesta of Summer- but also of her oldest, most secret dreams. The warehouses of goods, like mysteries to solve. The account books she stole, learning by candlelight the trade in her blood.

Ten years after the war, Nesta bought a ship.

She set out to be a merchant, use what she knew, but what happened was this: Nesta Archeron did not care anymore for rules. And so when she came upon Hybernian remnants-for they were an island kingdom, even more one with the water than Prythian- pillaging a Summer town, she destroyed them.

She stole their treasure, gave much of it back to the people.

Found, unexpected, that she had much more of a taste for marauding than she would have expected. There was still trade of course- proft made and shared- but Summer needed someone willing to do some destroying out on the sea.

Twelve years after the war, Nesta Archeron became a privateer under the Summer flag, pearls in her hair and a true smile on her lips.

Things grew, as all things do. Feyre wrestled herself the reins of government, stymied by the councils Nesta and Azriel set up as much as she often was by Azriel himself out of truly petulant action. Morrigan remained second, golden blades bright as her gowns within reach. Cassian became a sort of seneschal, reigning over Illyria in Feyre's name cold and alone as the wind through the mountains.

(Feyre thought he might never get over the war, but Azriel knew the truth.)

Elain took herself wherever the future led, a sort of mediator and councilor, walking in all Courts- but always back to home, that isolated green, green cove, where Nesta would land.

When war came again, there was no great Lordly alliance, no cut-throat summit. There was a fleet of ships whose sails where edged in purple, whose announcement across the water was silver fire, whose accompaniment were monsters of old.

Violence did not touch Prythians human shore, because Nesta Archeron did not let it.

She was death on the tide, and she remembered what shores had borne her.

She had a home in Summer, a place in Day, her family across the continent- she had her ships, full of faeries from every walk of life, who wanted as she did the freedom as much as the profit, the endless, endless blue, where sea meets sky.

It was eternity, and the Archeron sisters, free, had made it their own.

#i'm sorry this is literally a novel #but!!!#this is my dream plot actually #all about legacy and complicated feelings #the total failure of cassian as a partner #of rhys as a ruler #of feyre as a sister!!#there's so much love in the end but its not easy love #and they do have to fight for it #Nesta Archeron has always been exactly who she is and that shouldn't have to change #Elain has never GOTTEN to be who she is and that should change #Feyre standing alone is all i want yall #a true overturning of the patriarchy actually #yes this a luzreil universe #Elain...mhmm.... definitely just has a string a very romantic love affairs #marriage as a prospect caused her so much pain #she's done #I feel like Mor comes off almost too badly in this #but like #she would??#she's SO possessive of her people #and totally weird about Feyre's sister's from the start #Nesta having power?#Nesta having Azriel's backing?#NESTA BEING CASSIAN'S MATE?#its never going to go well

80 notes · View notes

duskamethyst · 4 years

Text

attitude.

a/n: i had to edit this so many times for a month.

word count: 2.1k

genre: smut, nsfw

warnings: dubcon kinda, daddy kink, masturbation, semi public, slight exhibitionism, slight sexism, degradation, slight dacryphilia, angry fucking

pairing: ukai x f!reader

you open the door to the shop, greeted by the guy you knew too well, only that his whole face is hidden behind the newspaper, obvious that he is smoking a cigarette from the smell that stings your nose and the smoke around him. you aren’t having the best of days so naturally, you begin to rant about the hard ass professor from your class. you glance at your boyfriend mid-rant, who still has his nose stuck on the article.

“he didn’t like my proposal and he had the audacity to say some misogynistic shit like, the amount of makeup i wore to class and all that shit.” you continue, but the other party only hums in response.

“like, what does that have to do with my work? he probably thinks that i’m some kind of a bimbo. it’s ridiculous– keishin, are you even listening to me?”

ukai puts out his cigarette on the ashtray and flipped through the paper and nods, “yeah, i hear you.”

“well, you could’ve said something to make me feel better.” you grunt, crossing your arms across your chest as your eyes glare through the papers in search of ukai’s face as if you have the ability to see through objects.

“don’t look at me like that.” he replies all too knowingly though not even bothering to spare you a glace ever since you step inside his store.

“then what did i say?” it’s stupid to ask such question. you’re willing to bet that he isn’t actually listening nor interested to partake in the conversation. it happened sometimes and it drives you nuts and upset altogether.

ukai shrugs and turns the next page, “something about your professor.”

“…..and?” you tap your foot on the floor, starting to lack in patience.

“and, i’m just not good in multitasking so i couldn’t really listen to you while reading.”

“you fucking asshole,” you cuss. “i worked my ass off day and night, sometimes it doesn’t work out and when that happens, i really hoped that you would be there and cheer me up but now you just decided that you won’t even spare a few minutes to put down the paper and listen to me? hell, this happened a lot of times already. are you also stressed out like me? from sitting in front of the fucking register and smoking all day?”

“you probably should tell that to your professor instead,” he answers nonchalantly which annoys you even further. “jeez, and i probably should’ve dated someone my age.” he says lowly under his breath, but just enough for you to hear it clearly, even from behind the newspaper.

“excuse me?” you can’t believe what you heard, your fists clench on your sides and your breathing quickens. if the fact that he was not listening to you is the final straw, this takes the whole damn cake.

“yeah, maybe you could try. no one around your age would date you– not with this shitty job you have. at this point, i just wonder when the fuck are you gonna get cancer.” you snap. “at least i know there are tons of guys in my class that would want to date and fuck me. but nooo, i chose you instead. so, fuck you, keishin. just–fuck! you!”

as you are about to turn your heels around and storm off the store, ukai’s chair screeches as he stands up and grips your wrist from behind the counter, causing your body to yank backwards. ukai presses your cheeks together with his other free hand and tilts your head up to force you to look at him. his eyes are filled with ire– they are so cold and filled with rage at the same time, it’s actually sending chills down your spine.

“is it my fault that you have daddy issues? is it my fault that you like older men like me?” he sneers.

a pool of tears are slowly beginning to form in your eyes. it isn’t because you are remotely afraid but more of a natural reaction when you get furious.

“oh now you’re gonna cry?”

the thought of your black mascara running down your face together with your salty tears delights the man himself and you know this too well as you can see it in his face. giving in to that would be a mistake and you would hate to give him the pleasure.

“who taught you to speak to me like that?”

you turn your face away to the side to release from his grip and shoot him a murderous glare with all the courage instill in you, “you deserved it, asshole.”

ukai raises his brow, unsatisfied. his grip on your wrist tightens more as you struggle to pull away.

“let go.”

“i don’t think so,” he chuckles sardonically as he slips out from his apron. “that mouth is good for one thing and one thing only,” ukai turns to walk out from the register and stands intimidatingly tall in front of you, “and you know what that is.”

“well, i don’t know. like, eating, talking?” you blurt out. maybe if you annoy him more, he would let it go– seeing how he is not putting up with your shit earlier, you don’t think he would take this any further either.

however, he scoffs hearing your witty answer because you are actually pushing his buttons instead. “wrong answer, brat.”

ukai forces you down on your knees by the wrist and quickly unbuckles his belt, dropping down his jeans and boxers together at just the right length to only be able take out his cock. he grabs you by the hair and yanks you forward, “now, suck.”

“w-wait–”

“did i fucking stutter?” he warns as he tugs your hair tighter and it stings you a bit.

you think it is best to quickly oblige so you take his cock in your hands, your tongue teasingly licks the bead of precum on the tip. ukai breathes out a mixture of a frustrated and relieved groan at the tease, causing him to push your head closer while he bucks his hips forwards to shove more of his throbbing cock inside your mouth and causing you to gag a little as he hits the back of your throat.

“fuck– that’ll make you shut up. come on. show me what that pretty little mouth can do.” you bob your head faster along his cock, your hand fondles his balls while the other presses on his length to add pressure. he throws his head back and grips your hair tighter each time he lets out a breathy moan.

a lewd pop sound slips out from your mouth as he pulls his cock away. ukai’s lips curls into a grin as you look up at him with glassy eyes and your mascara a bit smudged. beautiful, he thought, just the way he likes it.

“get up, slut.”

you comply submissively, slowly getting back up and let him push and bend you against the counter. ukai lifts up your skirt, smirking as he sees a dark patch formed on your panties, he can’t help but to tease your wet slit by circling his fingers against the thin fabric.

you feel a wave of anticipation at the soft touch that your breathing begins to hitch. you glance at the clock on the wall, 20 more minutes before the shop closes. what are the odds that people will still come in at this hour?

“so fucking wet already. what am i gonna do with you?”

you want him to take you right there and then but you want him to stop at the same time, in fear that customers might still come into the shop and the thoughts are colliding with each other.

“kei– there’s still a few minutes left…” by the look of your face, your half-lidded eyes, ukai knows that you actually want this.

“and what about it?” he teases as he pulls your panties to the side and slips one finger inside your sloppy cunt. “wouldn’t you like it if people see you being fucked so hard like a little whore?” his finger is pushing in and out repetitively before putting in another finger and continues fingering you mercilessly.

having ukai to finger you like this in public feels so good– actually better than you imagine. the thought of not trying to get caught having your legs spread out for this man is giving you a rush of excitement as you try to hold your moans down your throat.

unfortunately, ukai is not happy about it and begins to rub his thumb on your clit. “let me hear you, baby. you didn’t seem to mind when you were shouting at me earlier.”

“i’m– ah– sorry..” you begin, between breaths.

“sorry what?” you shut your eyes close as your hips subconsciously buck towards his fingers, only to have him pull them out instantly. with his other hand, he presses your cheeks again and forces you to look at him.

“i’m sorry, daddy.” you plea.

“you look so pretty like this, princess. but your attitude displeased me.” he loves having control over all of you and keeping you grounded. “you wanna cum?”

“please.”

“do it yourself.” ukai steps back and watches you sit up on the counter with trembling legs and struggle to make yourself cum only from pumping your own fingers inside your wet cunt.

“you’re so wet, princess. i don’t think you need my cock for that.” he continues with prying eyes as he watches you with lustful eyes, one of his hand pumping his hard cock as your body arches and trembles in front of him, trying to push yourself to edge but with no avail.

“daddy, i want to cum.”

“and how am i supposed to do that?” he coos.

“please, daddy. i need your fat cock inside me.”

with one swift movement, ukai pulls down your panties and lifts one of your legs up to his shoulder, spreading your thighs apart. just as much as he likes to make you wait and begging for his thick cock, how could he not fuck you immediately? he can’t make himself wait either.

the shop begins to be filled by your restricted moans, careful not to let any possible people outside the shop to hear you as ukai fucks you shamelessly. you have your elbows to support your uncomfortable posture but you pay no mind to it as his cock fills every inch of you, reaching for the very place that your own fingers can’t. the both of you start to hear faint chatters from outside and you hope that they are just passing by.

however, ukai takes this chance to quicken his pace.

“let me hear you, baby. tell everyone– ah– how good daddy makes you feel.” he says between grunts while he starts to rub and press down your clit with his thumb.

“daddy, please, please, please–” you whisper, fists clenching to nothing, toes curling in your shoes. your eyes glances towards the door as the chatters and footsteps outside start to become gradually louder with each passing second.

“look at me,” ukai spanks your thigh, “wanna give them a show?”

“no..” you mutter through soft moans. though the thought of getting caught red handed is humiliating, it’s also arousing to you and your walls start to clench tighter around his cock.

“god, you’re getting tighter– you like that huh?” he hisses. “such a fucking slut.”

you can feel your juices dripping down his length as he adjusts his angle before giving you more intense thrusts that just hit the right places at the right pace. your legs are trembling and you can feel that you are getting closer to an orgasm and at this point, you can’t be bothered to worry anymore as your mouth lolls open to chant his name in a chorus.

you can feel that ukai is also getting close as you are as you feel him throbbing inside you. having his teeth nibbling on your thigh is enough to push you over the edge and your mouth opens in a silent scream as you cum hard. he smirks proudly and gives a couple more thrusts before he also winds up to a state of euphoria himself with his hot ropes of cum filling up your cunt.

panting, ukai waits for a second to finish before pulling himself out and puts on his pants before helping to adjust your clothes.

“you’re an idiot.” you push yourself off the counter and lightly punch him on the chest, earning a small chuckle from the male– the first time you heard today.

“call me that again and we are gonna have round two, brat.”

“coach!” an orange-haired boy beams as he opens the door, sending a jolt of surprise to the two of you. from the looks of his face, you manage to conclude that he didn’t hear or even had the slightest clue about what happened. you sigh in relief.

“what? shop’s closed!” ukai quickly says before ushering the poor boy out.

#ukai x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#keishin ukai #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #ukai keishin #hq #hq!!#haikyuu fic #haikyuu!! fic #fic rec haikyuu #haikyuu smut #haikyuu!! smut #ukai smut #hq!! smut #robinwrites #r; writes #tw; dubcon

950 notes · View notes

toomanystoriessolittletime · 3 years

Text

mix up

Summary: A mix up with the buildings laundry was all it took to get what you always secretly wanted.

Pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (can be read as reader insert)

Wordcount: 4k+

Warnings: lots of cursing, smut (Oral; female receiving; sex), sex toys, also fluff, bad flirting as ususal

A/N: In my mind, this was a drabble. Apparently my brain had other ideas. The biggest thank you to @f0rever15elf for being my beta on this <3

Masterlist

Taglist in reblog

Pushing the laundry bin with your dirty laundry out of your apartment, you checked if you had everything before you locked the door of your apartment behind you. It was laundry day. Thankfully the apartment in Bogata came with a laundry service. Not that you were not able to do your own laundry, you simply didn’t have time for it. The last thing on your mind while chasing down Escobar was doing your laundry. The job took every single second of your life, even in the few times you were off from work, even in your sleep. Walking down the long hallway, the last door you passed was Javier’s. You heard him curse something in spanish before the door opened and a similar laundry bin was placed in front of his door. You tilted your head as you looked at him, crossing your arms in front of your chest, a little grin on your lips.

“What?” He asked looking down at himself.

“Nothing.” You hummed. “I love that color on you.” You winked before you walked out.

“Fuck you too.” He chuckled as he followed you.

“What? I do love it. As a matter of fact I own some pink stuff I wear occasionally.” You unlocked the car and he jumped into the passenger's seat.

Javier and you were co-workers. He had joined you in the hunt for Escobar only shortly after you arrived here from DC. You would say you even became friends. As possible as it was to become friends with him. There were only a handful of people who knew the lengths you had to go through at this job. Of course, he had tried to get into your pants first but the both of you decided it would be for the better to keep this strictly non physical. At least that’s what you told yourself.

Though secretly you felt yourself wishing it was you on the receiving end of his “affection” as you lay in bed alone at night, while he was fucking some prostitute on the other side of the building.

“I’ve never seen you wearing anything pink, Guapa.” He pushed his yellow aviators up as he reached for the pack of cigarettes. You started the engine and looked at him.

“Oh Javier… There are many things you haven’t seen me wear.” You winked. You could see when the penny dropped and he shook his head, with a small grin.

“Fuck. I didn’t even have my coffee yet and you put pictures of you in underwear inside my head?”

“I never said it was my underwear. But… That’s payback for making me listen to the moaning from your apartment last night.” You finally got the car on the road.

“Jealous?” He asked, holding his cigarette by the window. You mentioned once that you weren’t a big fan of smoke but didn’t mind it. He had made the effort to turn himself away from you from that day on when he smoked.

“More curious.” You said honestly.

“How so?” You stopped at a red light, turning your head to look at him.

“We both know you are paying most of those women, so how real is their… valuation with you if you know what I mean?” You were genuinely curious. You had two relationships before and both of them didn’t really care for your pleasure. You had been responsible for your own orgasms all your life and you were wondering…

“Oh they aren’t acting Guapa. I know what I’m doing.” He winked at you and threw his cigarette out.

“Every man says that.” You shrugged, rolling your eyes.

“Well… You’ll have to trust my word. The only way you could be sure was if I showed you, and we both agreed that nothing will ever happen between us, right?” He asked. You nodded and looked away from him, starting the car again, when the light switched to green. You didn’t notice him looking at you as you continued to drive.

“If we wouldn’t be working together, would you?” He asked as you parked the car in front of the embassy and killed the engine. The car ride had been silent since the red light.

“Would I what?” You asked pulling your purse out from the backseat.

“Let me show you that I definitely know what I’m doing?” He asked, his voice deeper as he looked into your eyes. You looked back into his and wondered if anyone had ever noticed the small caramel like spot in this right eye.

“I guess that’s another thing you will never find out, Peña.” You had a small smile on your lips, hoping to cover up your nervousness. He looked at you knowingly before he let his tongue dart out to wet his lips. You swallowed, your eyes flying to his lips before you looked up and he bit his lip.

“Shame,” he whispered before he opened the car door and got out of the car. You closed your eyes, ignoring the throbbing between your legs as you watched him go into the building.

“Fucking hell,” you muttered, shaking your head to follow him inside.

Weeks went by without either of you mentioning the conversation between you. At some point, you thought you imagined the whole thing. You continued to work together. You both took care of Steve when Connie left to go back to the states unannounced. You couldn’t blame her. You’ve been wondering yourself if what you were doing would end in catching Escobar in the end.

Javi and you were a pretty damn good team at work. He always had your back which was a gift you truly cherished. When you had first met him and Steve, you would have bet a lot of money that they would be just like the other assholes you had worked with before. But they weren’t. Of course Javier continued to flirt with you. That’s just who he was. But he also did acknowledge your intelligence and knew when he had to shut up and actually listen. You grew so comfortable with each other that just one look from the other would tell if it was a good day, or a bad day.

Today had been a bad day for you.

Not only was the lead you had chased the day before a dead end, but you just felt exhausted. Like the last weeks of working constantly came crashing down at you all at once. So you called in sick. For the first time… ever. You ignored that one of the reasons you felt so shitty was the fact that Steve and Javier had been gone for 3 days now.

A knock on your door made you groan but you made your way to open up anyway, thanking the lady with your clean laundry with a smile before you closed the door and brought it into your bedroom. Deciding to put the clothes away right now instead of letting them stay on your bed as you usually did, you frowned when you saw a very pink shirt on the bottom. You let your fingers run over the fabric. It was Javi’s shirt. The one you teased him about.

Biting your lip, you looked down at it. You should give it back to him. You knew that. But he would be gone for at least another two days and you felt lonely. You opened the buttons, pulling the shirt you were wearing off and got his shirt on. You looked at yourself in the mirror. You had never worn a shirt of a man before, and when you pictured it before you weren’t thinking about a pink shirt, or Javi’s, but somehow you liked the way it looked on you. Smiling to yourself you pulled the fabric closer and you could swear you smelled his aftershave even though it was freshly cleaned. You did spend more time than you would ever admit to anyone thinking about him. The way he walked. The way he ran his hands through his hair when he was frustrated. How you could see his chest hair when he was wearing his poorly buttoned shirts. Closing your eyes you shook your head.

Coworker. He was your Coworker.

Your very attractive Coworker who you caught undressing you with his own eyes more than once. In the quiet of your apartment you often dreamed what it would be like. Him touching you. You knew he could have anyone, yet he chose to pay for sex. He didn’t seem like he was looking to have any relationship, and you couldn’t blame him. But what if he chose you? What if he wasn’t your Coworker? What if he was just Javi? Your neighbor. What if you weren’t in Colombia chasing down drug lords?

You pictured him coming home to you and taking you on the kitchen table. Would he go down on you? You bet he would. He seemed like he enjoyed pleasuring his woman. His woman. You wanted to be his woman. Even though you knew he wasn’t looking for someone. He told you before on a very drunken night out that he sucked at relationships. He just needed someone to make him forget, someone…

A knock on your door interrupted your thoughts again. Looking at yourself you considered answering whoever was at the door dressed in this shirt but decided against it and put on your bathrobe. There was another knock at your door.

“One second!” You called pulling the bathrobe closer around your body as you unlocked your door.

“Javi?” You asked, surprised. “I thought you’d be back on Saturday.” You pulled the bathrobe around you closer, suddenly feeling too naked to be standing in front of him, even though your whole body was covered.

“You’re okay. Thank.. Fuck. You’re okay.” He sighed relieved looking at you.

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” You frowned, a little confused.

“I went to the embassy and no one knew where you were and…” He closed his eyes.

“I called in sick. I’m okay. I promise.” You said quietly. He ran his hand over his mouth, his other hand on his hip as he looked at you, his eyes tired.

“Are you okay Javier?” You asked a little confused at him just showing up like that. “Why are you back already?”

“Dead end. Didn’t see the point of staying there.” He shrugged.

“Okay. Then you should go to..”

“What are you wearing there?” he asked and nodded towards you.

“Uhm…” You looked down at yourself and tried to hide your surprise at seeing a bit of the pink shirt out. You looked up at him again, and you could see his grin.

“Is that pink I see?” His grin got wider. You sucked your bottom lip in.

“I told you I wear pink. Occasionally.” You shrugged. He nodded and continued to look at you before he stepped a little closer. You could see in his eyes that he was trying to work out what was going on and you noticed the moment he made the connection. His eyes darkened and you cursed yourself for not changing out of his shirt before you answered the door.

“Is that… my shirt?” He whispered deeply. A shudder ran over your body. His hand came up, reaching for the collar that you apparently hadn’t tucked in as well as you thought you had. His finger brushed over your throat as his other hand slowly opened your bathrobe. One of your hands held your shirt together that you didn’t bother to button up. You shouldn’t have put it on in the first place.

“Fuck, you’re wearing my shirt,” he cursed. You looked up at him, breathing deeply. You weren’t wearing anything but some panties beneath it. He looked down your body before he looked up at you again, his hand running up your neck to the back of your head.

You should take a step back, turn around and get away from him. Cause the way he was looking at you made your knees weak.

“Javi, I can explain…” You mumbled, but he only shook his head slowly. The look he gave you made your poor explanation die on your lips.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered as he stepped even closer. You felt the coldness of his leather jacket as he pushed your bathrobe from your shoulders and you shivered.

“Close the door, Javier,” you whispered. He looked at you, taking you in before he turned around and closed and locked the door. Pulling off his leather jacket he let it fall to the floor as he stalked towards you.

“I will never be able to get this picture out of my head.” He said as he walked you backwards until your back hit a wall behind you.

“You… You don’t have to get this picture out of your head.” You whispered.

“No?” He asked. One of his hands coming down on your hip as his other hand brushed some of your hair away that had fallen in your face. You shook your head at him.

“If you want to see me in your shirts, make sure to leave them with me after…” You bit your lip.

“After?” He leaned down and you felt his breath on your face.

“After you’ve fucked me.” You whispered and sighed when his lips crashed down on yours. You grabbed onto his back, pulling him closer as he licked into your mouth. Parting your lips without resistance you moaned when you felt one of his hands slip down your back.

“Been dreaming about this for years.” He groaned against your lips as he kissed down your neck, pushing the shirt you were still wearing open and you saw his little smile when he saw your boobs.

“Me too.” You whimpered as his teeth scratched over your neck.

“Tell me.” He whispered, softly sucking on your pulse point on your neck before he kissed down your collarbone.

“Wanted you to feel against me. Wanted to… Ahh..” You cried out when his lips closed around one of your nipples.

“Tell me.” He groaned and looked up at you, not releasing the bud and sucked. You wouldn’t be able to continue to stand on your own feet if he kept that up.

“Wanted to taste you. Wanted you to taste me. Wanted you to…”

“Fuck you?” He asked, releasing your nipple with an obscene sound. You just nodded.

“Been wondering if you taste as good as you smell.” He whispered and kissed down your stomach.

“May I?” He knelt in front of you, his dark eyes wild as he looked up at you. You hesitated.

“I… No one ever….” You sucked your bottom lip in, shy all of the sudden. He seemed to understand immediately, cursing under his breath.

“You should be worshipped. Fucking losers. All of them.” He shook his head and got up from the ground.

“Will you let me?” He asked softly. There was nothing but affection in his eyes and you felt yourself nodding. You shrieked when he picked you up in his arms, moaning when he kissed you as he carried you to your bedroom. Carefully he set you down and you looked up at him. You wondered what this would change between you. Because you wouldn’t be able to go back to being just friends after this.

“You’re not just a fuck, hermosa.” He seemed to answer your thoughts.

“Let me feel you.” You said as you got up to stand in front of him. He didn’t stop you as you pulled his shirt out of his jeans and began to unbutton it, kissing his chest before you pulled it off. He groaned as you teased his nipple.

“Lay down on your back and let me take care of you.” He kissed you quickly and you complied, wanting to take the pink shirt off when he stopped you.

“No. Keep that on.” He smirked and you giggled.

“Whatever you want,” you hummed.

“Be careful what you wish for.” He said quietly as he looked down at you. A shiver ran over your body at the look he gave you and you could feel just how wet you were.

“What if I like playing with danger?” you asked. He furrowed his eyebrows before his hands opened the fly of his jeans. You swallowed, your eyes not leaving his as he pushed his jeans down. It was like he was challenging you to look and when you did you released a breath you couldn’t remember holding in. Of course he wasn’t wearing anything beneath his tight jeans.

When he was standing completely naked in front of you, he leaned down to slowly peel your embarrassingly damp panties down. He kissed up your leg, his mustache rubbing over the skin and you giggled when he kissed the skin behind your knees.

“Someone’s ticklish.” He mumbled against your skin.

“Maybe.” You smiled. He kissed up your inner thigh and unintentionally you wanted to close your legs but he didn’t let you.

“Let me look at you hermosa,” he whispered, looking up at you. You were only able to nod slowly.

“If this is how I die I won't complain.” He murmured before his tongue darted out to taste you. You wanted to look at him but the way he nibbled, licked, and sucked made you throw your head back, moaning loudly. You grabbed the bedsheets, trying to ground yourself as he sucked at you clit.

“So fucking good,” he groaned against you and you cried out.

“Fuck, keep going…,” you moaned. One of his hands on your stomach held you down while his other hand grabbed one of your boobs, kneading them, pulling at your nipple.

“Cum for me baby.” He whispered, his tongue dipping inside of you.

“Fuck….” You arched your back, heat rushing through your body as you almost blacked out when your orgasm washed over you.

This was unlike anything you ever felt before. You were so out of it you didn’t notice Javi stopped until his mouth was on your neck before he made you look at him. You felt his cock between your legs and you shakily breathed out, a blissful smile on your face as he leaned down to kiss you softly. You didn’t know nor did you care how long he kissed you, you just knew you never wanted to stop.

“You did enjoy that, right?” He asked and you punched against his chest, making him laugh.

“You’re awfully full of yourself, Agent Peña.” You shook your head and he cocked an eyebrow.

“What if I want you to be awfully full of myself?” He smirked.

“You did not just say that.” You snorted, shaking with laughter beneath him.

“Sorry,” he laughed with you, looking down at you.

“No you’re not.” You grinned and he chuckled.

“Do you though?” He asked, quieter now as his laughter subsided. You arched your eyebrow in question. “Want me to fuck you?” He kissed down your jaw, as he rolled his hips against yours.

“Is me naked beneath you not clue enough? I thought you knew that you were a good Agent and knew what you’re doing...” You teased, your hands wandering down his back, pulling him against you. He bit into your shoulder and you moaned.

“Oh I’m gonna show you that I know exactly…” He kissed you. You groaned as you felt the tip of his cock at your entrance. “How to make you cum.”

“Condoms... “ You gestured to your bedside drawer. He nodded, disappearing from your point of view before he was back, a dirty grin on his face.

“This is gonna be fun.” He whispered, holding a condom and your vibrator up. You blushed looking away from him.

“No need to be shy, hermosa.” He ripped the condom package open and pulled it over his hard cock. You felt his hand between your legs and you looked up at him, before two of his fingers entered you, his eyes never leaving yours.

“So If nobody ever made you cum by going down at you…” He kept fingering you slowly, adding another finger and you moaned quietly, feeling so full already.

“Did anyone ever make you cum?” He asked, his thumb slowly circling your clit and you were about to cum again when he stopped. You pouted.

“Huh?” He asked.

“Yes Javi. I made myself cum.” You groaned and he shook his head.

“Not anymore.” He hummed before you slowly felt himself push into you. You stopped breathing, looking up at him, embracing the delicious burn you felt as he split you in half. The sounds he was making would haunt you in the best way possible.

“So fucking tight,” he groaned and you released a breath when he was fully inside of you. He stilled, probably wanting you to get used to the stretch but all you wanted was..

“Move. Javi.” You pleaded and that was all he needed to hear.

“Feels better than I imagined.” He pressed, slowly fucking into you. He put your legs around his waist as he leaned down to kiss you. Holding him close, you let him fuck you, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts. Never in your life did you feel that full. He kissed every piece of skin his lips came in contact with and you grabbed onto his back, surely leaving marks as he moved faster.

“Please…,” you moaned.

“Please what Hermosa?” he rasped, sucking on your shoulder.

“Harder.” You whimpered.

“You want it harder my needy girl?” he asked. You were only able to nod as he pushed away from you, pulling your legs over his shoulders. He held on to your legs before he began to ram into you.

“You want it harder. You get it harder. You get everything you fucking want.” He groaned.

“Fuck yes.” You moaned, holding onto the mattress beneath you. Closing your eyes you just let him do whatever the fuck he wanted. Never in your life had you been fucked like that. The familiar buzzing of your toy let you snap your attention back to the man curently fucking the life out of you and you almost jumped when the vibe made contact with your clit.

“Shit…,” you cried out, surprised when your orgasm washed over you within seconds.

“Fuck fuck….” Javie groaned, fucking you through your orgasm, throwing the vibe away.

“Can you give me one more?” He asked. You shook your head, still trying to breath properly, when he pulled out of you and turned you so you were straddling him.

“Ride me baby.” He smiled up at you. You leaned down, kissing him longingly before you carefully sat down on his cock.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he said in awe, looking up at you as you slowly rolled your hips, still oversensensetive from your orgasm. Both of his hands sneaked under his shirt you were still wearing, massaging your boobs.

“You gonna give me one more, hermosa?” He moaned quietly, pushing himself up, his arms coming around you, his chest against you as he moved his hips against yours.

“Javi…” You whimpered, holding on to his shoulders.

“Tell me what you need…”

“Kiss me,” you whispered. His lips were on you in the next moment and you shook as you felt your third orgasm approaching.

“Cum for me, Javi,” you whispered, clenching your walls, one of your hands pulling at his hair. He moaned against your chest as you felt him swell before he twitched and that was all it took for you to cum again.

Out of breath you held on to each other, your head on top of his, his lips still attached to your boob.

“We should have done this sooner,” he chuckled and you smiled as you looked at him.

“We should have,” you agreed. You felt him soften inside of you but not you nor him were ready to let go of one another. You kissed him softly.

“We could do this again, you know?” You said carefully. You knew you wouldn’t be able to share him with anyone, he had to know. He looked at you.“But I’m not sharing what’s mine,” you added.

“Yours, huh?” He asked, a little smile on his face. You nodded.

“I like the sound of that.” He said before he kissed you deeply.

#my writing #Javier Peña #fanfic #fanfiction #javier pena #Javier pena x reader #Javier pena x ofc #Javier pena x you #pedro pascal

349 notes · View notes

anonil88 · 3 years

Text

Malcolm and Marie live blog

I don't usually do liveblogs for movies but yea.

Spoilers ahead!!

I love that its modern timed but very 70s stylized.

A tune indeed.

When you are high and drunk on success and

How the white critic reacts is why I feel like gatekeeping my scripts. At the same time some things I do make are about race or involve.

Marie sitting on the patio smoking is a mood whenever men are talking.

So he's pretentious and unaware.

Whoever chose the music for this, I feel like we would be Spotify mutuals.

Can this nigga stop pacing.

Also can he stop talking;

Marie is so tired and unimpressed.

Also little booties matter and are to be bitten.

Oooo the tension and the jazz.

Title Card over mac and cheese.

Shitty boxes mac and cheese but still mac and cheese.

Tbh i always wonder if spouses/significant others get upset when their spouses don't acknowledge them during speeches.

John sounds so much like his dad but I really hope his acting style differs from his dad a lot.

Guilty confession?

He did not profit off of his partners backstory and then not even acknowledge her.....I.....

If that ever happened to me catch me cussing my partner out during the beginning credits, the end credits, in the car, and at home.

GASLIGHTER!

The way I'm excited for Zendaya to give me some, oooo can she work with Regina King. Please on my knees I pray.

Um no that's not your job to coddle your lead.

He's a dick and the type of dick who makes himself look like a good person around other people.

If Sam Levinson is trying to make his viewers more of misandrist, it's working.

I feel like Marie has her flaws probably a lot of them and we will surely see as this continues, but Malcolm needs to learn how to apologize sincerely.

70s vibes! 70s vibes!

Them kissing and talking about criticism and dreams makes me miss a partner. A partner that I've had and haven't had.

Women really are behind every great man.

Yea sir you fucked a happy moment.

Oh visual allegories for looking in from the outside and cat and mouse chasing and looking from the outside in.

She's saying she doesn't feel noticed by you.

Gas lighter :0 he called her an emotional support dog, bruh.

I would LOVE to co-write or take a writing class held by Sam Levinson. The fights i write are very much in this same realm of reflection and anger and monologue.

Sam.....sam.....are all the sides inside of you doing okay sir?

The ugly side of dating and being in a relationship with someone who struggles with their own demons.

Honestly I could close my eyes and listen to this script being read without seeing these characters visually. Just close my eyes and get a sense of these characters like it was a radio story.

Oh. Oh this is a new wheelhouse of Zendaya acting; a different voice is like breaking through here and her expressions aren't the same we are used to. You can literally hear another character in there....hmm.

Mans is outside really fighting with his invisible demons lmfao.

Selfish ass, how after everything she said you came out of it thinking about your own craft and self instead of how you hurt her.

So she's conditional.

Me: did sam (a white man) say nigga this many times in his script or are the actors adding their own inflections. Not just the lingo used but the topic of race and directing etc. being written by a white writer about black characters is always gonna be a critique when you're writer is a white person.

Alexa play Broken Girls by Saba

He is so hurtful.

A clown nigga a clown look in the fucking mirror you bozo head ass looking like you need some Mehron clown white and a size 16 in clown shoes.

John is doing a really swell performance and reading of these lines.

He is reading her for her insecurities by bringing up his experiences with other women and that.....is yikes.

Arguments can get messy like this in real life but it takes a lot of maturity and control to either not let it get to this point or have a healthy conversation afterwards.

This film is really shot on some very crisp lenses.

They sitting there like 🚬🧍‍♀️🧍‍♂️.

Leftover Mac and Cheese and unfinished cigarettes.

The nyt etc. pay walls are so annoying, but there is a work around look at the articles on incognito or add a period at the end of the url.

He sounds like his daddy so much here, weird, this is the only part I'm eh on the dialogue it feels real but a bit out of pace in how they are bouncing off one another.

Nail scissors? So the end is not the only part he based off of Marie. 🙄

ITS A GOOD REVIEW YOU DINGUS but also its a full review they are going to critique things. She isn't wrong though he did profit off of a woman's story that was not his own to profit from.

Yes Malcolm because unfortunately all marginalized people look through a lens of life that is inherently political because of the world they live in.

He is so mad and upset and had a lot on his chest. But I think he Malcolm and Sam are talking about something thats an issue and a non issue. Being critiqued for you art is hard but also Malcolm is not super self aware. He's like a stand in figure of for example rich depop sellers who wanna be oppressed so badly they yell at others instead of examining their own personal behaviors and ethics.

Oh Marie, when you know the spark is gone and you pick fights because.

He ain't even ask her to read?

One critic I have for most of hollywood actors is they learn their cry and that is it. A change from this is Margot Robbie, I adore her fluctuations of crying being similar but the crying is carried differently for each character. If I had to say any actor that does a cry scene amazing its this woman right here (Amy Adams)

You stole her story from her and gave it away, she has a right to be upset and angry and a rubber band ball of emotions.

Citizen Kane, not the cinematography, but the story is it even that good? (Unpopular opinion but meh, maybe in my rewatch it will be better.)

But that is what people want authenticity and whatever authenticity means to them. What is real for one is false for another.

To be honest look at the criticism of Euphoria, well earned, but a lot of people were like this isn't real even though he literally wrote about his own life. People said it was inauthentic like....wtf.

Ahh the smoking is just a habit, he quit and she didn't.

CAST ZENDAYA IN A HORROR MOVIE PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING. Get Lupita and Zendaya and some more black actors preferably less known ones in a horror movie. One with a interesting script and story, directed by Regina King. Please and thankyou.

I love Marie yep that was amazing.

Behind every great man is a greater woman, one that deserves her credit for how she has stood behind. I wonder the stories of those women, what they have sacrificed or not sacrificed. Their thoughts and feelings when the world is surrounding their partner and views them as a plus one. (I'd write a short script about this but I think do I have the time, can I, or am I equipped ?)

He is a shitty person for bringing up his exes, like she even said I don't wanna know any of that.

Imagine being on anti depressents and rarely having a sex drive and then when you do your partner starts talking about their exes and tearing you apart for all your faults.

I love when you see peaks of Zendaya's cadence in roles.

Tension, what if's and he didn't even bring her up in his speech.

Marie to herself and the audience:

He is not afraid that he will loose her but as my character says in my unreleased story, "i can't wait til you give me a fucking reason to leave your ass." Malcolm expects everything in order for not even doing the bare minimum and she is only asking him for something as simple as consideration. She just wants him to be considerate. He wants to get married and considers their relationship like rolling down a hill at full speed and he cannot apologize, he cannot be considerate, and he cannot admit his wrongs. He can only offer her I love yous that he probably does mean but he does not back up outside of what he's done for her in the past. The past which was more of her experience than his and he sees his part in it as a burden. He doesn't use his own vantage point of the past to further his career he uses her. He does all of these things without a real apology or thankyou because he is not afraid to loose her.

The restrictions of quarantine and the panorama have made Sam's writing very no frills. I wonder how other films from other directors and writers that are filmed in small contained crews like this will be structured. But this was a very good movie gonna add to my letter box 3.3-3.5

Oh shit this is my song,

Ratings/overall thoughts:

Script is like a C+, B- : I could go into my heavier big brain thoughts on the script but I don't feel like it. You catch hints of it above it centers conversation on race and privilege, mainly the writers and questions i have that won't be answered but Sam did make me grow disdain for Malcolm over a short time. Which is sometimes hard to do because im one sympathetic person but the sympathy i have for Malcolm is at 0. Maybe a 2 at some scenes but then it quickly goes back to 0. Some parts of the dialogue miss the mark or hit the are off balanced. While some of it like Malcolm's bathroom speech albeit mean is really strong or their conversation when he comes back from peeing really shines for me.

Performances: B+ to A- because they carried the script further than it could of gone with less talented actors. The monologues do well to showcase their current skill levels which are already high af and leave room for anticipation in where these actors go next.

Zendaya holding a knife: A+ with a gold star. That switch on and off and on is delectable.

John being a shitty boyfriend but following Marie like a lost puppy: B+ with a good job written at the bottom of the paper, Malcolm being nervous a frantic dialed up with more realistic nervousness would have sold me completely on Malcolm's anxious waiting.

Cinematography: A and a participation award.

The mac and cheese: A+ for the easy mac. Wish it was like Annie's or Velveeta.

Cigarettes: Participation award and their picture hung up for student of the month. Why the grill lighter? Everytime Malcolm opened up his mouth Marie was like sparks fly.

The music: A++ with a prize. Whoever picked the music probably makes good Spotify playlists.

#Malcolm & Marie #malcolm and marie #zendaya coleman #zendaya #john david washington #liveblog #mine

258 notes · View notes

you-show-me-love · 3 years

Note

🏠or 🫂

You know what Ima give you both @ianandmickeygallavich1

🏠 - for a place of their own headcanon

Ian entered their apartment on the Westside and was hit with a heavy, fragrant cloud of pot and cigarette smoke. Mickey was exactly where he left him, lounging in his boxers on the couch, but now noticeably high. Ian rolled his eyes and took a few giant steps to stand before his husband and yank the half smoked cigarette between his slack lips earning him a displeased whine.

"Come on Mick, you know we can't smoke inside."

Mickey rolled his bloodshot eyes and leaned his head against the back of the couch, tilting it to follow Ian's path to the balcony door. The redhead slid it open, waving large hands uselessly in an attempt to clear the air quicker.

"Who gives a shit, man. Weed's legal."

"Still can't smoke inside, Mickey." Ian admonished.

Mickey raised his head against the floaty feeling causing it to weigh more than usual. Ian settled into the cushion on the other side of the couch, his long arm stretched across the back almost touching Mickey's shoulder.

"See I'm fucking handcuffed over here! Fuck the Westside, man!"

It was a tantrum Mickey threw every time something inconvenienced him. Blame the Westside instead of just following the rules. Ian loved his husband but the man was stupidly stubborn.

"Well when we buy our own place you can smoke inside all you want. For now smoke on the balcony."

Ian thought he had said the right thing, something that would appease Mickey and ease his brooding brow, but as Ian spoke Mickey's expression grew darker and Ian could read the warning signs of the oncoming storm he just summoned.

"Listen Princess, you might think we're one day going to live in a fucking castle but the reality is we'll be renting from gentrifying fucks until we're either too poor or dead. We'll never own shit, never do what we want, always be under someone's fuckin boot!"

Mickey leaving Ian speechless was just as common as the pair finding themselves in petty squabbles. The redhead could only watch the smaller man stomp into their bedroom, knowing from the constant stream of swear words and insults that he didn't plan to stick around.

"Mickey…" he called fruitlessly after his now-dressed husband made his way out. The only response he received was the slam of their front door.

Ian gave Mickey a few hours to cool off before making his way to the Gallagher home on N Wallace. Mickey was exactly where he expected him to be, behind a shitty accordian door on a mattress older than both of them smoking another joint and fucking around on his phone. Everything about his body language conveyed nonchalance, but Ian could see in the tight, downward turn of his full lips that Mickey was still ruffled. Ian leaned against the doorway, waiting for bright blue eyes to meet him and let him know Mickey was ready to talk. The dark haired man sighed heavily and rubbed intensely at one eye before he looked up.

"Fuckin tired of this shit, Ian."

Ian crawled onto the dirty mattress next to the man he loved, hurting to see him like this, knowing it was his job to make this better, knowing he was happy to do it.

"I know." He wrapped an arm around Mickey's shoulder and planted his lips into his dark hair. He very much knew how exhausting it was just to exist against all the things trying to push them out. They stayed quiet together, ruminating with only themselves on how tough life had been for both of them.

"When we buy our own place," Mickey began, and Ian's heart jumped into his throat at the implication, "I'm putting six deadbolts on the door so no one can bother us about any dumb shit. And we're getting a guard dog."

"What about a moat? Maybe a guard tower?" Ian joked, receiving a shoulder to the ribs for his trouble. But Mickey was smiling and Ian thought the pain was worth it.

"Alright princess." Mickey snorted.

And so they sat on a bed they no longer slept on, in a house they no longer lived in, and envisioned a place of their own. A place they could be free together.

🫂 - for a hug headcanon

"Meeting Lip for coffee!" Ian shouted from down the hall to the bedroom. He was dressed and ready to go, but his other half was still dead to the world.

He didn't expect a response more eloquent than a sleepy groan so he moved to the entryway and put on his shoes. Righting himself he caught sight of Mickey.

The man was ridiculously cute in his half asleep state; eyes pinched shut against the light, hair matted in places and spiked in others, expression grumpy in that way that only endeared to Ian, chest bare and boxers scrunched high up on his pale thighs.

"Where's my hug motherfucker?"

Ian's face went dopey at the irritable request and easily responded to it, wrapping his long arms around his husband and holding the man tightly against him. Mickey was still sleep warm and pliant, fists barely grasping the shirt on Ian's back. They held each other for a long moment, saying goodbye and good morning and I love you and so much more in one hug.

Mickey eventually pulled back, letting Ian move his hands to cradle his head and plant a kiss on his full lips. They stayed content in looking at each other a little longer, letting soft loving eyes take it all in. Ian pulled a hand away and cuffed his husband's cheek harmlessly, a non-verbal end to their moment. Mickey sniffed and stepped backwards toward their bedroom.

"Give Lip these for me." He offered up two proud middle fingers. Ian laughed and promised Lip would in fact get Mickey's message.

#ian gallagher #ian x mickey #gallavich #mickey milkovich #shameless #gallavich fic #gallavich headcanon #headcanon requests #domestic gallavich

83 notes · View notes

marsbutterfly · 3 years

Text

Skyfall

Summary: When you are hired to kill the most dangerous mafia boss, things get a little complicated.

Wattpad Version! | AO3 Version!

|◁ II ▷|

“This is the end

Hold your breath and count to ten

Feel the Earth move and then

Hear my heart burst again”

7:34pm

The clock on your wrist tics quietly but in the silent room, it nearly sounds like bombs being dropped from above. Not a word is exchanged between you and the man sitting across the room but you know exactly what he wants.

In his hand rests a dark colored suitcase, you can barely tell until the light hits his belt ever so gently but you finally see the gun he’s been carrying.

You take a deep breath, getting up for your seat. The sound of your heels clicking on the floor fills the atmosphere as you walk towards him, the smirk on his lips is undeniable and you don’t understand what he has to be smiling about.

He stands up a second after you and walks in your direction, bumping against you and dropping his suitcase and the papers in his hand. In response, you throw on the floor the suitcase you once held.

The man apologizes profoundly as you help him collect the papers on the floor. You say over and over that it is ok, while all the curious eyes in the room land on you. As you stand up, you hand him the suitcase you once had in your hand and he nods, thanking you for the help and apologizing one last time.

You begin to make your way back to your car, the smirk on his lips still engraved in your brain as a chill travels down your spine. “Why was he smiling?” You ask yourself not wanting to admit it but you are a bit scared of knowing the answer.

Though once you open the suitcase, you understand why. Inside, rests the pictures and information of your next target, the millionaire leader of an enemy gang. Though you don’t enjoy taking sides, you’ve been paid a large amount of money to take her out, more than you have ever made.

The war between these two gangs has been going on for the longest time and you have killed enough people on both sides to earn a fair amount of enemies, but this time you couldn’t help but feel a sinking hole opening in your heart.

Hanji Zoe has always been the deadliest member of the underground group. Her kill count is even higher than yours, at least 500+ heads under her belt. They say her torture methods surpass even the ones they use in hell.

She’s known as the Devil herself.

“For this is the end

I've drowned and dreamt this moment

So overdue, I owe them

Swept away, I'm stolen”

8:15pm

Your keys unlock the heavy doors of your house and somehow the marble floors feel colder than ever. Your shoes rest in their designated spot by the coat holder and you throw the suitcase on the couch.

Two cups rest on the counter near the bar area inside your home. One of them contains what you assume is whisky, due to the color and the amount of ice in the cup, it has always been her favorite after a work day.

The lipstick marks are fresh meaning she has just now gotten home. Upon paying closer attention, you realize the shower is on and steam is coming out of the bathroom. You think about joining her but ultimately decide to have a drink first, trying to forget about your next target.

Gently, you take two rocks of ice and place them in the clean cup specifically placed out for you. Pouring yourself a single shot of whisky, you walk towards the balcony feeling as the cold air of the night hits your face.

You knew this day would come but you hoped it would take longer.

Deep in your own thoughts, you don’t realize the water has been turned off in the bathroom and wet footsteps approach your body.

It’s not until her wet arms wrap around your black dress that you realize you are no longer alone. Her face is buried in your back and you can see steam leaving her arms as the hair on her skin stands up.

The tattoo of your initials on her hand still brings butterflies to your stomach. The memory of the night she got it is still one of your favorite moments you spent together, especially since it was after your first date and she told you she knew you were the one.

“I missed you.” She says, placing a kiss on your skin. You can feel as her breasts are pressed against you and a gasp leaves your body.

“I missed you too.” You reply, a disobedient tear rolling down your face as you chug the contents of the cup in your hand.

“What’s wrong?” She asks, placing her hand on your waist as she turns your body around so you can face her. She is a few inches taller, nothing too extreme but enough to make you look up at her gently.

Her thumb brushes the tear on your cheek before rubbing it above your lips. You take a deep breath, gathering the courage to tell her the news you just received.

“You are my next target.” You say and Hanji nods, a sad smirk on her lips.

“Let the sky fall

When it crumbles

We will stand tall

Face it all together”

9:00pm

The brush goes through her hair with ease for the first time, as if she took care of the tangles in the shower already knowing what the news you were bringing would be. After shower moments were the ones where Hanji was the most vulnerable.

She would simply close her eyes and appreciate the attention she’s been given as she fades in the echo of your voice. You hum a melody quietly, Hanji’s favorite song in the hopes to bring her any comfort at all.

Your tears drip down your nose onto her scalp as you put her hair in a ponytail, attempting to help her get ready for the party she will be attending in an hour. At the highest floor of the second tallest building in the entire city.

“How are you going to do it?” She asks, lighting a cigarette and blowing the smoke up in the air while trying to make rings out of it. You giggle, touching her shoulders before sliding your hands down her arms.

You notice the goosebumps rising on her skin and can’t help but smile at how she reacts to your touch. “Must we talk about it?”

“I need to know.” She replies and you nod, sighing heavily while finally agreeing to talk about the elephant in the room.

“I’ll be on the roof of the Paradise building. I am pretty sure they will send someone to watch me do it.” You begin, spraying the bottle of perfume around her and noticing as the drops of liquid fall on her tan skin, masking the smell of the cigarette.

“But they might not.” She says and you shrug your shoulders.

“They might not.” You say quietly.

“I wouldn’t expect any less from this city’s top 1 assassin.” She says, taking your hand in hers and planting a soft kiss on your palm, leaving behind the red mark of her deep colored lipstick.

She stands up, allowing the robe to fall to the floor and reveal her naked body. You can’t look away from the perfect shape of her breasts, the line that goes through her abdomen from a previous surgery and all of her battle scars.

“Make me yours one last time.” You say, pulling your shirt above her head as you expose yourself to her and she nods, a devious smile curling up on her lips.

You see a few old bullet wounds, some healed while others are still healing. Every single one of them tells a story about who she is and how she has lived her life but your favorite story has always been the one of how she lost her eye.

It was three years ago, the day you met. How could you ever forget?

“Let the sky fall

When it crumbles

We will stand tall

Face it all together

At Skyfall”

Since you were a teenager, you’ve been good at killing. First your shitty parents and every family member who sided with them, including your own brother and sister. Finally being able to control your life, you decided to make a living out of it.

This career put you through college where you earned a chemistry degree, learning how to mix your personal kinds of poison, some of which no one has ever even heard of which makes it hard for the police to find who was responsible for it.

At first, you would go for basic targets: rapists, animal abusers, anyone who dared hurt another soul but word got out of how excellent and quick you were at your job and your number of clients tripled and your name was in everyone’s mouth.

One day, you got a call from a blocked russian number. A smile creeped on your lips as you heard a familiar voice over the phone, Erwin Smith. The man who gave you a chance to grow in this life and made you who you are today, your mentor.

“Y/N, I’m dying.” He says, his voice is faint and you notice his life force is fading away.

“I can tell.” You reply trying to lighten the mood and he laughs.

“Will you still work for the next boss?” He asks, coughing out a liquid which you could only assume was blood.

“If that is your dying wish.” You respond and he hums in agreement over the phone, “Then yes.”

Later that week, two men showed up to your house to escort you to Erwin’s funeral. The rain poured over his coffin, hiding away the tears of those who loved him.

Surrounded by at least five men sat a woman in a black coat, her eyes looking in your direction as she took the cigarette to her lips. The tattoos on her leg on display for anyone to see, you could’ve sworn she was silently flirting with you.

And in a moment of weakness, a car drove by shooting up the place completely. Of course they were received with a buffet of bullets as well, but nearly a third of the people around the casket were now dead.

As a bullet makes its way towards you, the brunette with danger in her eyes rushes forward to protect you only to receive the bullet with a glass platter. Needless to say, an uncountable amount of shards found their way into her eyeball.

While she bled in your arms, you tried to make sure she remained awake.

“What’s your name?” You ask and she smiles, bringing your hand towards her lips and licking your thumb with a palpable sexual energy.

“Hanji. Hanji Zoe.” She replied, “The new boss.”

“Skyfall is where we start

A thousand miles and poles apart

Where worlds collide and days are dark

You may have my number, you can take my name

But you'll never have my heart”

10:05pm

Once you are finished redoing Hanji’s hair, she stares at the closet before finally picking out a blood colored suit. No shirt underneath, she places the blazer right above her nipples, only enough to cover them while allowing the rest of her breasts to be exposed.

You on the other hand plan to dress yourself in a completely black outfit hoping to blend into the darkness of the night. Luck was on your side for there were no stars to brighten the sky, allowing you to take complete cover.

As far as you know, nobody is aware of your relationship with Hanji, not even her subordinates. Keeping business away from your private life has always been a priority, even before you committed your first paid killing.

She places a final kiss on your hands and one of your lips, though it does not feel like a goodbye and you sadly accept any kind of comfort you can find.

When her car is out of view, you decide to go up and take a shower by yourself. You wanted to decline this job, to throw everything away: your reputation, the money and simply run away with Hanji to a place where you could live your lives.

But you can’t. Before even knowing who your targets are, you are always made to sign a consent form and if broken, it would cost you your life.

The warm water hits your face and you can still smell Hanji’s strawberry shampoo in the air mixed with the fading smoke of her cigarettes. You begin to remember every shower you spent together, every kiss you shared at the most exquisite places around the world.

Hanji always knew how to make you feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Eventually, you can no longer if the water streaming down your face comes from the shower or your tears.

As you finish your shower, you begin to get ready. The black outfit had never been colder and the unsettling feeling at the pit of your stomach still remains. While putting a mask above your face, you look at your rifle.

It has your initials and Hanji’s secretly carved on the side and on the other it has the date you started dating. A good luck charm, as she liked to call it.

Tonight will be a fucking awful night.

“Let the sky fall (let the sky fall)

When it crumbles (when it crumbles)

We will stand tall (we will stand tall)

Face it all together

At Skyfall”

1:53am

Hours have passed since you've been sitting at the top of this building by yourself, looking through the binoculars at the party happening not too far away. In the end, they decided not to send anyone to watch over your shoulder as you do your job.

The richest and most powerful people in town were all attending and, even though they wore masks, you could still tell exactly who they were. The years of analyzing and recognizing targets from afar has given you the extraordinary ability to identify covered faces.

By the bar, you see her as she rests her arm on the glass top. She looks beautiful. Her whiskey brown eyes match the liquid in her cup as the black mask covers her features. For a second, you could’ve sworn she looked directly at you.

The instructions were clear: at 2am, a single bullet should be shot directly to her head, killing her instantly. So you position your gun, looking through the lense as Hanji disappears in the crowd for a bit before returning to her usual spot.

You sigh, stopping the tears that attempt to cloud your vision. Your finger slowly moves towards the trigger, as if time itself is desperately trying to stop you from killing your loved one, but it doesn’t matter. No one could stop you now.

Counting the seconds, you make sure the shot to her head is clear and you pray she won’t suffer at all. “Goodbye, my love.”

Time nearly stops once you pull the trigger. You watch closely as the bullet goes through her brain and blood splatters across the clear counter causing every person in the room to desperately run for their lives, not knowing they are all safe.

Only one man stands in the room and he raises his glass at you for he is the only one who knows no more shots will be fired. The asshole who hired you to kill the love of your life. Fucking Zeke Yeager.

With every ounce of your body, you decide that killing him isn’t worth it. He deserves to live to suffer in the future.

You bring your body back up, beginning to disassemble your rifle. It takes you less than a minute to be on your way and you can hear as police sirens approach the building in front of you.

“Where you go, I go

What you see, I see

I know I'd never be me

Without the security

Of your loving arms

Keeping me from harm

Put your hand in my hand

And we'll stand”

Finally getting back to your house, you throw the bag containing the gun on the couch before plopping your body right beside it, a long sigh escaping your lips.

Your eyes then notice the packed bags, all ready to leave as soon as possible. The clicking of heels comes from the other side of the house and you smirk, rushing your thumb through your lips.

“I feel bad for the lady you hired to die in your place.” You say, turning around and propping your chin on the back of the couch.

“Would you prefer if I had died in her place?” Hanji asks, rushing her hand through her freshly shaved head in an attempt to get rid of any hairs that still remain attached to her.

“Of course not, love.” You reply, walking towards her before taking the glass of wine from her free hand.

“Hanji Zoe is dead and the witness to it is Zeke Yeager himself.” She says, a devious smile on her lips.

You can’t help but link your mouth with hers, tasting the delightful mixture of alcohols she has had tonight. Her hands travel through your body, exploring every inch of your skin before gently brushing against your inner thigh.

You gasp gently, nearly melting in response to her actions. God knows you want to melt but you don’t have time.

“It’s 4:25am, the plane leaves in 35 minutes so we should go.” She says and you nod.

You grab one of the packed bags plus your rifle and she grabs the rest before extending her hand to you, hoping to walk away from this life with you by her side but not before staging your own kidnapping and death, everything so no one would ever look for either of you.

Once done with arrangements, she smiles.

“So where are we going to make our new home?” You ask.

“My home is wherever you are.” She replies and you feel your cheeks getting warm before she continues, “But I was planning the Carribeans.”

“Fuck yes.” Is all you say and she laughs, squeezing your hand as you both say goodbye to the apartment you’ve shared for years. Leaving behind a life of danger to live together in the house of your dreams, far away from all the negativity.

Just you and Hanji. And maybe a few cats and dogs along the way.

“Let the sky fall (let the sky fall)

When it crumbles (when it crumbles)

We will stand tall (we will stand tall)

Face it all together

At Skyfall”

69 notes · View notes

ladyrivia · 3 years

Text

Spitfire (Chapter Two)

Previous Part

Summary: Anya settles into her new environment, Carrillo and Pena continue to pine over her.

Warnings: Google Translate Spanish, guns, sexual thoughts

Anya gently shut the door, laying down and finally allowing herself to rest after hearing the click of Carrillo’s door down the hall. She closed her eyes, listening to the faint sound of the shower starting from the master bathroom. Getting comfortable she--

“Fuck,” Anya groaned, remembering her sleepwear was in her bag, in Carrillo’s car. Which was locked, and his keys with him in his room. He said I could get him if I needed anything. Plus I wouldn’t mind the sight of him shirtless.. Maybe more than shirtless. She smirked at the thought for a moment before clapping her hand over her face, dragging her hand down and holding her jaw. Stop it. You’re going to be working together. You can’t make it weird. Releasing the hold, Anya took off her jeans, folding them and setting them on a chair in the room before wrestling off her bra from under her shirt, throwing it on top of the neatly folded jeans.

Anya eventually sprawled out under the blankets and comforter, the warm embrace of the bed soothing her aching muscles. She found herself quickly succumbing to sleep, but she could’ve sworn she heard footsteps approaching her room and the door creaking open.

Carrillo couldn’t help himself, his mind completely taken over by the thought of the woman sleeping down the hall. He found his mind lingering on her big brown eyes, the blush that would creep up on her face, the way her jeans hugged her curves, the cut in the shirt being the perfect length to reveal her cleavage. Para. Stop. He felt blood rushing to his newly formed erection, fist clenching in an attempt to regain composure.

He rushed to finish scrubbing the sweat and grime off his body, then cranked the water temperature to as cold as it could go. His muscles tightened in retaliation, but he accomplished his goal of getting rid of his erection.

Changing into his sweatpants, he realised that he had left her bags in his car. Cursing under his breath, he stalked to the guest bedroom, quietly opening the door. He found Anya already asleep, her hair forming a halo around her head on the pillow and her face looked so peaceful. Espere. Wait. Carrillo found himself standing in the doorway, watching her sleep like a creep. ¿Para qué estaba aquí de nuevo? What was I here for again? His eyes focused on the dimly moonlit chair, seeing her jeans and bra sitting on top.

Carrillo felt a bit guilty about forgetting her bags, but she seemed perfectly content in her stripped down day clothes. He softly shut the door and returned to his room, shuffling into his bed. Normally he would have trouble falling asleep, the constant pressure from his job keeping his brain from shutting off, but remembering the soft features of the new agent, sleep found him quickly.

Javier didn’t stop cursing himself all to the store around the corner from the apartment building. Idiot. Fucking forgetting to set up her furniture. He continued mentally kicking himself as he picked up multiple cartons of his, and seemingly Anya’s, favorite brand of cigarettes, along with a couple bottles of whiskey. Least he could do is prepare her a DEA Agent welcome basket.

Returning to his apartment, he searched for the notepad which he had written down the storage locker number, lock combination, and her apartment number. Shit. Her apartment was the one right next to his, which had been empty for as long as he had remembered. The storage locker was close to the embassy, Anya having shipped her furniture down to the Southern Americas long before her arrival in Columbia.

Javier sat in his bed for a moment, formulating the plan of how he was going to move her furniture while smoking yet another cigarette. Satisfied, he kicked off his clothes and quickly fell asleep, dreaming of his new partner.

Anya ran down the hallway, sweat running down her face even though the cold air whipped around her in the abandoned warehouse. Her gun was drawn, pointed at the ground as she continued to run to the last door, kicking it down. A gasp left her throat when she saw her partner, Ethan, tied up to a chair, badly beaten and bleeding. She quickly ran towards him, kneeling before the chair he was bound to. “Ethan, oh Ethan.” She set her gun on the ground and brushed the bloody and matted hair away from his face, looking into his almost dead eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but the only thing she heard was the cocking of a gun behind her.

Anya gasped and sat straight up in bed, a sheen of cold sweat covering her entire body. Her eyes darted around the room, confused by the new surroundings. Memories of the previous night flooded back to her. Flight. Embassy. Bar. Carrillo. Anya looked at the alarm clock, 07:00. 7AM. She sighed, the nightmare had jostled her nerves. A shower would be nice.

“No bag, no clothes. Of course.” Another sigh escaped her lips as she shuffled out of bed, her bare legs being exposed to the morning light. She felt bad for going through his things, but she really didn’t feel like putting yesterday’s clothes back on to go ask him to get her stuff for her. Bingo. Anya found an old pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt in the closet.

She was pleased to find the guest shower already filled with toiletries, taking the extra time to scrub the remnants of long travel off her body. Exiting the shower, Anya encountered another problem, she had no clean panties. She shrugged. Guess we’re going commando for now.

Carrillo woke up shortly after Anya, hearing the shower from the guest room turn on. He quickly got out of bed and got dressed, mornings were always easy for him, whether it was years of conditioning from in the military or just naturally being a morning person. Today was a rare day, having the morning off. He shuffled to the kitchen, deciding to make breakfast for him and his new favorite agent.

“Steve, wake your ass up!” Javier pounded on his partner’s door.

“The hell do you want?” Steve muttered as he opened the door, his appearance disheveled by sleep.

“Need your help moving Donato’s stuff in.” He cut off Steve’s groans of protest. “You accused her of being a prostitute yesterday, the least you can do is help me get her stuff set up.” Javier purposely said this part a bit loud, so Connie would hear.

“Steve!” Connie came up behind him, swatting him on the shoulder. “You didn’t tell me that!” Steve muttered something of an apology to his wife. “Quit whining and help Javi move her stuff in.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll help you Javi, just give me a damn minute.” Javi snickered after Steve shut the door in his face, boy was he whipped.

“Don’t forget your keys! We’ll need to use your truck!”

Anya smelled something delicious cooking when she exited the shower, following the scent, she left the guest room and found Carrillo in the kitchen. Her footsteps were quiet, quiet enough he didn’t turn around when she stood in the doorway of the kitchen. She took the sight of him in, his uniform tight over the muscles of his arm and his back. After a minute, he finally turned around to grab something from the kitchen island, noticing her.

He had to stop himself from dropping his jaw open, and suddenly all the guilt from leaving her bags in the car was gone. He would do it again to see her in his clothes again. They were definitely too big for her, his t-shirt reaching her mid thighs and the extra length of the sweatpants pooled at her feet. Carrillo chewed the inside of his cheek when he felt his erection return.

“Morning,” Anya played it off as if she did not stare at him for a minute. “Smells fantastic, what are you making?” She sat in a chair opposite of where Carrillo was standing at the island.

“Huevos revueltos con tomate y cebolla,” Scrambled eggs with tomato and onion. He pointed to one pan. “And arepas.” He pointed to another pan, switching back to english.

“Anything I can help with?”

“No, just make yourself comfortable. Coffee?”

“Yes, please.” He poured her a cup, leaning over the island to set it infront of her. The creamer and sugar were already on the island, over to the side. Anya fixed her coffee the way she liked it, extra cream and regular sugar.

“That is a disgrace to coffee.” Carrillo commented when he saw the milky color in her mug.

“Bite me.” Anya took a long sip of her drink. “I suffer with the shitty coffee at the office, at least let me enjoy it the way I like it here.” Her accent slipped again, rolling her eyes when his lips twitched up in amusement when he heard it. A moment of comfortable silence passed between the two.

“I like your clothes, where’d you get them?” Anya gaze fixed on him with a glare, but with a hint of amusement sparkled in her eyes. Last night he was so serious, she wasn’t sure if he had a sense of humor. Well, at least until now.

“Had to find something to wear after I took a shower, I didn't want to strut around in a towel.”

“Podemos recoger su bolso después de comer.” We can get your bag after we eat. He bit his cheek again, his erection making itself known again after the thought of her walking around his house in just a towel. He plated the food, walking around the counter to set her plate in front of her before taking the seat next to her.

“Thank you,” Anya gave him a big smile before digging into her food. “Damn, you really can cook, this is very good.” She praised him.

“Mi mamá me enseñó todo lo que sé.” My mom taught me everything I know. He returned her smile, taking a bite of his own food.

“We have to move all this?” Steve complained when they opened the storage locker.

“We were supposed to move it before she arrived.” Javier placed his hands on his hips as he analyzed all the items in storage, Steve shuffling inside to get a better look.

“Wait.. if her bed is here then where did she sleep.. Don’t tell me you--”

“I didn’t sleep with her,” Javier practically growled. “She went home with Carrillo.”

“Carrillo?” Steve’s eyes widened. “You let her go home with that asshole?”

“Don’t remind me.” Jealousy grew in his chest. “He asked me if I would rather her sleep in my bed where.. You know.” “Well, he isn’t wrong. I’m glad you kept your hands off our new partner.. I hope it stays that way.”

“What?” Javier was surprised Steve was being so blunt with him.

“She’ll eat you alive man, it takes a particular type of woman to survive the boy’s club. There ain’t no way she’d put up with your bullshit.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Javier started to get defensive.

“C’mon man, don’t act as if you don’t know,” Steve raised an eyebrow. “You have commitment issues, you fuck prostitutes for inform--”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Javier harshly cut him off. “Let’s get this shit in the truck.”

Carrillo and Anya took their time eating breakfast, sharing stories from previous assignments and raids.

“So your partner, what happened to him?” Carrillo asked what he thought was an innocent question, but immediately regretted it when he saw her freeze, her smile fading from her face.

“Transferred.” She muttered into her coffee, both of them knowing she was lying, but he didn’t push the subject further. They finished the rest of breakfast in silence, Carrillo feeling guilty yet again. He wished he could formulate the words to tell her that he could empathize with her, lord knows he could with the amount of good soldiers he lost in the field, but with years of shutting off and building a wall between him and his emotions, the words never came.

Anya finished eating shortly after Carrillo, wordlessly picking up both their plates and moving to the sink to clean them. She let her emotions wash down the drain along with the dirty water, replacing the shield that Carrillo had slowly whittled down. Damn him. She finished washing the dishes fast, waving him off when he came over and insisted he helped.

“We should grab your stuff.” Carrillo glanced at the clock, grimacing when he realized there wasn’t a lot of time left before they would have to go to work.

“I don’t need to bring everything in, I just need a change of clothes.” Anya followed him out to his car, leaning into the back seat and rifling through her bag to grab a fresh set of clothes. Her ass was fully on display, Carrillo not too subtly staring at it while she was bent over, but quickly looked up when she turned around.

While walking back inside, Anya tripped on the excess fabric of the large sweatpants, falling into him. He whirled around and caught her, hands firmly grasping her shoulders, one of her hands were braced on his chest.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Her face flushed bright red.

“You’re okay.” He couldn’t help but give her a small smile, she was really adorable when she was flustered.

Anya’s heart raced, she thoroughly enjoyed his hands on her far too much. She practically ran to the guest room, trying to regain her composure while getting dressed. She dressed in a fresh pair of jeans, a short sleeved button down with a tank top serving as an undershirt. She tugged her black boots on, very similar to what members of the Search Bloc wore. She pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail, letting a few pieces fall to frame her face.

Re-emerging from the guestroom, Anya noticed how Carrillo stared at her, his eyes committing every piece of her to memory. They stood looking at each other for a minute, before Carrillo broke the silence.

“Ready to go?”

“Morning fellas,” Anya greeted the pair as she and Carrillo entered the bullpen. “How was your evening, Murphy? I hear you have a lovely wife at home.”

“That I do, speaking of which, she has invited you guys over for dinner tonight, you coming?”

“Of course, Javier here has told me that apparently we’d get along well.” She nudged Javier in the shoulder.

“You know I’d never miss a chance to eat your wife’s cooking.” Javi chuckled.

“Wish I could but, I have a date with some narcos tonight.” Carrillo placed a hand on the small of her back. “I’ll come by after I do my initial rounds to get your Kevlar and gun.” He stalked off towards the Search Bloc’s part of the building.

Carrillo’s touch did not go unnoticed by either man, though Javier’s mind quickly went to jealousy. He wondered if anything happened between the two last night, Carrillo wasn’t known to be a physically affectionate guy, especially towards people he just met. His fist clenched as he returned to facing his desk, trying to distract himself from the workings of his mind.

“Great, we’ll just head there after work. I’m sure that’ll be around dinner time anyways.” Steve fidgeted with the pen between his fingers, also returning to the papers he was pouring over. Anya popped the lid of the tub again and dove into the ESCOBAR files once more.

“Anya,” Carrillo returned almost an hour later. “Ready for the armory?”

“Yeah.” She glanced up from where she was reading, mentally marking where she was leaving off.

“Right this way.” Carrillo started to lead her to the armory, Javier staring at her ass while she followed him. The fabric of the jeans perfectly hugged her curves, her gait naturally having a little swing to her hips. A slight erection was forming under his desk.

A pen hit the side of Javi’s head.

“Dude, what the hell?” He grabbed the pen, lightly tossing it back to Steve.

“She’s our partner, Peña. Not eye candy.” He rolled his eyes.

“Let’s try this one first.” Carrillo looked through their extra Kevlar vests for one that would fit her best, this would typically be easy but they also had to consider, well, her boobs.

Anya lifted the vest over her head, sticking her head through the hole and settling the heavy vest on her shoulders. She strapped the Velcro tight at her sides, wiggling her arms to test the fit.

“Verdict?” She asked as he grabbed the vest, tugging it a bit to inspect.

They were extremely close, she could feel his breath hot on her face, smelling strongly of cigarette smoke. They stood for a moment, neither of them knowing what their next move was.

Abruptly, he stood back, giving her a quick nod. “It fits,” He took something out of his pocket. “Here.” He handed her what she realized to be her name tape, DONATO being embroidered in black onto the green fabric. She slapped it onto the velcro space for it, then quickly got out of the uncomfortable Kevlar.

“Thanks.” She gave him a smile. Carrillo turned to the gun locker, unlocking it and handing her S&W Model 39 pistol and a box of ammunition. Anya tucked the gun into the back of her waistband, and put the box in her back pocket.

“You’re now fully equipped.” He shut and locked the gun locker once more.

“Thank you again, Carrillo.” She picked up her Kevlar vest.

“Of course. Can’t have my favorite agente underprepared in the field.” He gave her a warm smile, patting her on the back. “I have to go back to my rounds, adiós.” Carrillo left her in the armory, returning to his demanding job.

While Anya walked back to her desk, she allowed herself to blush over the fact that he called her his favorite agent.

“All suited up?” Javier looked up as she approached, she lifted the heavy Kevlar.

“Yup.” Anya opened the empty bottom drawer of her desk, shoving the Kevlar in. She unholstered her gun, and took out the magazine, placing the body of the gun in the bottom. She took out the box of ammo, quickly counting out 8 bullets and loading them into the magazine, placing both into the bottom drawer as well before closing it.

Anya sat down and returned to the evidence box, a heavy sigh escaping her lips as she dove into the realm of Escobar again.

“That’s it, I’m calling it.” Steve announced as he got out of his chair.

“Me too, Donato, why don’t I drive you home? Steve and I moved your furniture and boxes in this morning.”

“Oh! Thank you guys,” Anya stood, stretching her arms over her head, her shirt riding up slightly. Javier took a quick glance. “That’d be great Javier, we’ll just have to stop by the secretary, I left my bags there this morning.”

“Here’s your apartment, and your keys.” Javier gestured to the door before dropping the keys in her hand. “My apartment is the one right next to yours.”

“Can’t even escape you outside of work.” Anya chuckled as she unlocked the door, tossing her bags in before shutting it and locking it again.

“You make that sound as if it’s a bad thing.” She responded with a light punch to his shoulder.

“I’m starving, where’s Steve’s place?”

“Couple floors up, c’mon, his wife makes fantastic food.” A few flights of stairs and jokes later, they arrived at the door, Javier knocking-- more like banged-- on the door.

“Hey guys, come on in!” Steve answered the door with a large grin, clearly being at home with his wife made him a happy man.

“Hi Javi, oh and Anya!” Connie quickly greeted them, giving Anya a big hug. “It’s so good to meet you!”

“Nice to meet you too.” Anya returned the hug.

“I made some lasagna, is that alright?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely!”

“Wine or whiskey?”

“Wine please, is there anything I can do to help?” Anya followed Connie to the kitchen.

“No, it’s almost done, here, go take a seat.” Connie handed her a wine glass and the bottle of wine, gesturing for her to sit at the dinner table where Javi and Steve already sat, sipping on their whiskey. She sat next to Javi, leaving the seat next to Steve for Connie. A few moments later, Connie followed with the steaming dish of lasagna.

Dinner was very pleasant, Connie asking all sorts of questions about New York and the work Anya did up there. Javier listened intently, wanting to learn everything he could about her. He loved the way she talked, especially when her accent would slip, showing her New York heritage.

As Javi predicted, Connie and Anya became friends quickly, the evening was filled with their squeals of excitement when they found another thing that both of them could relate to. As the night finally came to a close, and many promises to have a dinner party again, Javier and Anya returned to their floor.

“Wow,” Anya yawned. “I am tired.” She stretched her arms over her head.

“Well, in that case, you should head to bed.” Javi leaned on her door frame, basking in her presence.

“I’m planning on it, thank you again for moving my stuff in.”

“Not a problem.” He rubbed the back of his neck, wishing he could use his usual methods of charming women on her, but he couldn’t bring himself to it. He wanted more than just his usual one night stand with his informants, there was something about her that made him feel… he couldn’t find a way to describe it.

“Oh,” Her face scrunched in realization. “Could I ride with you to work in the mornings? I’m still working on getting a car down here. License transfers and all that.”

“Of course, though if you wake up late, I’ll leave your ass here.” Both of them let out a laugh.

“Goodnight, Pena.” They retreated into their respective apartments, Anya flicking on the light and looking around her new apartment. She pulled out a couple of essentials, mostly toiletries, and placed them in the bathroom. She quickly found her “BEDROOM” box and dug out her bedding, making her bed so she could sleep as soon as possible.

Anya was getting ready for bed, shuffling to the kitchen to get a glass of water. She was surprised to find a bottle of whiskey, a couple cartons of cigarettes, and a zippo lighter with “to new beginnings” engraved. She ripped open the carton of cigarettes, pulling out a carton, and returned to her bedroom. She laid down, lighting a cigarette, letting the nicotine relax her further.

Anya knocked against the wall behind her headboard, and was pleasantly surprised when she heard a knock back.

“Thank you for the housewarming gift, Javier.” She heard a chuckle come from the other side of the wall.

“Javi. Call me Javi.”

46 notes · View notes

writing-in-april · 4 years

Text

Russian Roulette

Spencer Reid x Female Unsub Reader

Thanks to my beta readers! @definitelynotkatesblog and @clean-bands-dirty-stories

WARNINGS: NSFW, SMUT, MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING

Includes: Suicide, Attempted Suicide, Toxic Relationship, Gun kink, Angsty smut -There is no specific dominant person in the smut-

A/N: Please do not read if you are easily triggered or under the age of 18. This was really difficult to write but I am really happy the way it came out! I have a playlist I made for writing this if anyone is wanting it just ask! My requests are open for basically any character you can think of, I want to branch out and write lots of characters!

Word count: 3.2k

Masterlist

——

The warehouse that I had found myself masking my location in was in no doubt the most ghastly place I had chosen yet. I wasn’t sure what drew me to the abandoned depository, maybe I had subtly acknowledged to myself that I was at the end of my rope-I knew I couldn’t run forever. The smoke colored walls matched the ashes dropping from the cigarette I had lit to alleviate my anxiety. The cat and mouse game I had been playing with the team that was on my trail was coming to an end. They had an extra vendetta set out against me since I cruelly betrayed the trust built between us. Polluted air swirled around me as I dug my nose in a book, trying to distract myself from my impending doom.

A noise drew my thoughts away from Catcher in the Rye that I had been reading while sat on a shitty mattress, practically the only furniture in this hole in the wall. My manicured nails snuffed out the cigarette into the bed and discarded the paperback, knowing that this was the start of the end. The double doors swung open as the recognizable silhouette Dr. Reid, his shadow was tall and lanky, with noticeable wild curls that looked as if he had rolled out of bed. He finally graced my eyes with the details of his figure, every step he took had lingering hesitation. It had been weeks since I had last seen him, he looked considerably more tired since he had last graced me with his presence, purple dark rings sat under his eyes, his hair even more disheveled then normal, and his clothes lacked the crisp ironing that he usually sported. I hated that I was the one that had caused his disheveled state, I had found a kindred spirit in Dr. Reid. It seemed like we were made for one another, our interests were exactly aligned, the only major thing that separated us was my penchant for murdering people. He was the first person I had felt connected to since my mother and it pained me to see that my betrayal had obviously weighed heavy on his mind.

“I see you finally found me.” I stated nonchalantly as I stood up, he was standing as far away as he could, from my observation it was evident he was disgusted with me but he was still drawn to me like a moth to a flame. He nodded solemnly, the words that he wanted to speak seemed caught in his throat, so instead his eyes bored into my soul. We stood in contemplation just staring at each other, we were only a few feet away from each other but it felt as if we were worlds apart.

“Was it ever real?” He finally spoke up in a shaky voice, his lip quivering in either anger or sadness. “Did you feel what I felt?”

“I hadn’t been real to anyone in a long time until I met you.” I spoke honestly, though I wasn’t sure if he believed me.

I felt the memory of our first meeting flash before my eyes, a murderer had crashed into my hometown, killing important people with checkered pasts. Politicians, lawyers, and police officers- no one was safe. My job as a therapist put me straight into the cesspit of what I viewed as the worst of humanity, slimy high ranking fixtures of the community. I often felt my skin crawling as sick human beings put on a facade of perfection hiding their nefarious deeds behind closed doors, so I began taking care of them by slitting their throats in the dead of night.

When the BAU rolled into our city they immediately put everyone connected with the victims into protective custody. There wasn’t an immediately obvious motive so the team had collected anyone with an important role putting each person with a specific team member. I had been put with the genius of the team Dr. Reid. The stay in the safe house with him made our relationship blossom, we shared interests, hobbies, and even our backstories (I had edited mine a bit so they wouldn’t catch on). Usually I viewed the world as black and white good or evil and until I met Dr. Reid I hadn’t felt grey before just a dark cesspool of no emotion.

I had never even spoken his first name, I had told him that- “Someone who earned 3 PHDs should have their achievements recognized all the time.” I still couldn’t deny these strange feelings that welled up inside of me, no matter how hard I tried to distance myself.

When I had been spotted by the doctor running from the scene of a crime I could practically hear his heart break and to be honest mine did too. I never wanted him to see this side of me that I kept buried, I had wanted to stop for a while even after that first kill but what had first started out as vigilantism turned into a compulsion to kill.

His screams broke me out of my reminiscing my eyes snapped up to see the doctor holding his gun, pointing it straight at my heart.

“WHY?! Why you?” He broke out of his previous calm facade, letting me in on the anger I had stirred underneath.

“You know the profile Doctor you tell me” I asked, though no answer was given.

The gun was shaking in his hands, his fury boiling over, steam was practically coming out of his ears.

“Pull the trigger Dr. Reid. It’s what we’ve both been waiting for, isn’t it? Let’s skip the reminiscing. So go on. Pull the trigger.” His grip faltered, he wasn’t sure where to go from here, should he take you in? Or completely screw regulation and take out his unbridled rage on the woman who had cruelly stolen his heart by shooting her.

The weapon was lowered, his hands still shook in fury as he put it back snugly in its place. I already knew he had called his team, no matter what he felt for me before there was no way he would risk his career to let me go. Even though I had accepted the cards that had been dealt I wasn’t going to let them take me alive. Tentatively I stepped forward, wanting to gain a semblance of closeness between us before I sacrificed myself, his body was rigid in its place as our chests touched.

I pulled the gun from his his side holster, it was an odd gun for an FBI agent to carry, a revolver to be exact. My fingers gripped the curved cedar handle, dragging it across Dr. Reid’s clothed collarbones, his arms were stiff at his sides unmoving. He was unsure of my intentions with the weapon. He knew logically that I was cornered in this abandoned warehouse with no escape, and obviously I couldn’t do much with a single revolver, that’s why he had only put one round in, reserved only for my heart if the trigger was needed to be pulled. Then I softly, with uncharacteristic tenderness, grabbed the good doctor’s hand with my free hand to guide his large palms to envelope my hand over the gun. He seemed flustered, which was odd to me, his resolve of hatred had never weakened around me until now. Our hands were clasping the gun in unison, the clammy palms of Dr. Reid cradled my own as I reached over and spun the chamber to land on a random spot.

I prided myself on the ability to read people but I couldn’t ascertain the reason behind the evident hesitation in his eyes as I encouraged him to carefully set the revolver snug against my jaw. Was it possible he had developed a care for me or did this just boil down to fear of having an unsub handle his gun. His breathe was mixed with mine, I held my pattern evenly while his had become ragged, strong enough to whisp my hair away from my face. With a flick I unlocked the safety and a genuine smile graced my face, if these were my final moment I was glad I got to spend it with Dr. Reid, he brought me a strange sense of comfort that I had never known before. His whole body was shaking as my forefinger moved to the trigger- he almost looked as if he was going to cry. A resounding click echoed off the dull gray walls of my hiding place, I had momentarily escaped my fate.

Dr. Reid suddenly smashed his lips onto mine breaking me out of the brief relief. My body had grown rigid against his movements, I wasn’t used to emotional connections with anyone and they certainly were never romantic. Just the delicate touch of his hand on my hip was more care then I had ever been shone before.

My cold exterior that I had carefully constructed was now in ruins because of Doctor reid. He was the only one who truly saw who I was, past my trauma and the trauma I caused. I melted into his forceful kiss, the unspoken tension that we had created finally was boiling over. It was full of tongue and teeth, our noses bumping as we poured our feelings into the kiss, speaking without ever making a sound. My back collided with the nearest wall, dust flying off to coat our bodies, his knee parted my legs and rested between my thighs. His spare hand left my hip to cradle my cheek practically engulfing my face with his large palm, raking the soft pads of his fingertips across my skin.

The silver barrel still rested under my chin being held precariously by our joined grip, Dr. Reid’s hand left my cheek, snaking its way down to the waistband of my pants. The tips of his fingers danced at the edge building anticipation in my veins.

He suddenly pulled the gun out from under my chin and set it under his own, my eyes widened in confusion my desire vanishing by the second. I tried to pull our unified hold away from his jawline but unfortunately he was stronger then me.

“I don’t know if I can live without you” he choked out, he had used his profiling skills deducing that I was going to sacrifice myself. He spun the wheel setting the bullet in another indiscriminate position, resetting the stakes all over again.

“It’ll be ok.” I begged desperately trying to talk him away from the ledge, just because I had wasted my life didn’t mean he had to as well. I brought my available appendage and covered the outside of his hand continuing my efforts to pull the gun away from his grasp. He shook his head, tears were freely falling from the both of us, mixing together to form a salty pool. His fingers slipping underneath my encased hand finding the trigger with ease, he pulled it quickly a sickening click resounded through the stale atmosphere. Once I was satisfied that he had survived air quickly left my body releasing the breath that I had held tightly in my lungs.

Mimicking his reaction from earlier I submerged us into another kiss, this one was tinged with my anger from his reckless move. I voiced my displeasure surrounding his actions by biting into his lip, bruising the plush tender skin. A groan escaped from him, the salacious kiss was now tainted with blood from his lips mixing together in gory harmony.

Undulating my hips onto the thigh that still sat between my legs, desire snuck itself back inside of me, rebuilding what had been banished. I suddenly had the urge to remove every cloth barrier that remained between us, I needed him now. Dr. Reid clearly shared the sentiment as he started pulling on the clothing covering my body. I did my best to shuck off his plum colored blazer with my available phalanges while he attempted to snap open the front of my pants. Our hands still were glued the wooden hilt of the gun that was rooted in its spot at the edge of the doctor’s jaw. The buttons of his dress shirt popped around us as my painted nails dug into the cotton, tearing the offensive fabric from his body. With frantic inelegant movement our outer clothing was ripped off our forms, the only barrier that lingered was our undergarments. His nimble fingertips wound around to the clasp of my bra tugging forcefully the clasp broke, freeing me from its confinement.

The lace was discarded in hast revealing my breasts to him he surged forward capturing my nipple in his mouth as my hips ground into his thigh. Circling my bud he glanced upwards, taking in the sight of my flushed cheeks, hair slicked with sweat, and the gun that I had swiftly moved to my temple removing it from his mandible. Excitement prickled in my core as he meandered down to where I craved him the most, he fisted the mesh- the last remaining remnant of clothing covering my body. A tearing noise filled the space, reverberating around us as the mesh separating us was torn away from me, revealing my full form.

His deft fingers gathered the building excitement between my folds, then he brought them to make contact with my clit. He rubbed slow harsh figure 8s against my pearl, I could feel myself getting wetter- which I didn’t think was possible. The ministrations continued for a while, but I was antsy to get his fingers inside of me. A beg almost fell from my mouth when all of a sudden with no warning his fingers plunged into my heat making my body convulse around him. He curled them expertly, nudging them perfectly at my g spot making the pit in my stomach grow and spread throughout my entire body.

Our hold had started to loosen on the gun so I clutched around the revolver tighter tugging our entangled fingers to rest the metal shaft perfectly against my temple. Upping the stakes further I rapidly clicked the trigger, the gun still had not administered its bullet into my brain, making the obscene act even better then before. His eyes held fear for a moment but couldn’t help his reaction to the clicks, a deep seated groan from deep in his chest. The sensations flowing through my body almost became too much to bear as he moved his thumb to my clit. My back arched against the wall as he sunk the blunt edges of his teeth into my collarbone while flicking against my clit with his thumb, sending me closer to bliss. He must have discerned that I was close to the edge and pulled his fingers away, his knuckles bumping against my g spot one last time which pulled a pathetic whimper from my throat while screwing my eyes shut.

I heard the tell tale sign of a belt buckle clinking causing my eyes to snap open, his full body was finally on display for me. My eyes drank in the sight before me, the doctor was just as I had imagined in my dreams, not too thick but long enough that I thought it might not fit. I reached forward to pump his length spitting into my palm as I jerked him off.

“Jump.” He whispered desperately into the shell of my ear, with careful precision my legs wrapped around his naked torso as I locked him in. The gun was the only barrier that remained between us as he lined himself up to my entrance and thrusted in one swift motion, breaching my walls for the first time.

“Fuck.” The soft expletive fell from his rose hued lips on the column of my throat making my toes curl.

His hips snapped into mine starting a pace with deliberate deep thrusts, my free arm wrapped around his neck trying to pull him in as close as possible. My fingers then wound through his messy curls yanking back so I could pepper kisses along the nape of his neck earning a sharp grunt from Dr. Reid as he picked up the pace. I bit the inside of my cheek in concern as he moved the gun to be placed under his jaw again. Tears started to fall again from my eyes as I silently pleaded for him not to pull the trigger, he ignored my pleas and reset the bullet to a random position once more. His rhythm faltered as the gun clicked for the fifth time, I knew we were testing fate too much at this point and that our luck was running out.

He kept the gun in its position while he picked up his momentum resuming his previous pace. My blood red nails dug into any part of him that I could grab onto leaving red streaks down his chest, back, and biceps as he reached parts of me that I didn’t even think existed. Our eyes locked together as his cock brushed against my g spot causing me to clench around him, we both moaned at the sensation hurtling us both closer to release.

I reached my hand down to rub harshly on my clit as I felt my climax coming just around the corner, my eyes rolling back in response to the added titillation. I then dragged our encapsulated hands away from Spencer pulling the barrel inside my mouth, his fingers flexed around mine anxiously as he soft whispers into my ear attempting to save me from myself. We both had somehow sensed that it was the end, I thought it was very fitting to end my life in the arms of the only person in the world I could find myself caring about. He didn’t stop his thrusts but they were now at a slow languid pace trying to savor every last moment he had with me.

“Spencer” I moaned in bittersweet symphony as I let myself kiss his bruised lips for the last time, our tears were falling giving our kiss a salty taste. A feeling of bliss suddenly overtook my body as I came in glorious crescendo. I rode out my high before I accepted my fate, my blood pounding in my ears for the final time. The wall was painted with blood as I pulled the trigger, ending my life with a bang.

*****

The shot rang in Spencer’s ears, it took him a minute to realize what had happened and that the object of his desire was gone. He was still holding the gun as the body of his unattainable love slumped onto him in death, his face speckled with scarlet. Finally the offending object slipped through his fingers clattering on the floor as he cradled her body.

His sobs echoed the empty rooms bouncing off the the walls mixing with the police sirens in the distance.

“He loved and he loved and he lost her, and it hurts like hell”-Fleurie

Tag list for Russian Roulette:

@zhuzhubii

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut #angst #smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic

419 notes · View notes

pascalpanic · 3 years

Note

No thoughts head empty request for my favorite fic writer:

Din, Frankie, or Javi trying to take care of a super stressed out reader that literally cannot relax to save their life <3

favorite writer?? u have me in tears Callista omg 🥺 have some soft javi in these troubling times

Stressed Out (Javier Peña x gn!Reader)

Summary: Your anxiety is getting to you. Javier wants to help.

W/C: 840

Warnings: cigarettes, reader has anxiety, nondescript mentions of canon-typical violence for Narcos.

A/N: I had an anxiety attack this morning so. This was rlly cute and kind of inspired by how I want Javi to treat me. Thank u for the idea cutie!!

“Try it,” the deep soothing voice reassures you. The calm tone is linked to Javier, your boyfriend. You’ve been having a shitty day, and he knows it. You hardly relax, even when there’s nothing else to do, even less than Javier does. It’s only fitting that the two of you found each other.

You and Javier are DEA agents, dating in secret to avoid the wrath of Messina or threats from Stechner. You’re two of the top workers, always the first to show on the scene and last to leave. With that commitment comes a sense that you’re never truly off the clock, that you’re both always waiting for a phone call to disrupt whatever you’re doing.

You’re wrapped in Javier’s arms on his couch, your head pressed to his chest. Javier slowly exhales from his cigarette before handing it over to you. “See? Just like that,” he assures you, stroking your hair with his large and strong hands.

You shake your head but take the cigarette. “I don’t think this is gonna work.” You place it between your lips, inhaling lightly. As soon as the smoke enters your lungs, you choke out a cough and shake your head again, handing Javier the cigarette quickly. You sit up, a hand clutching your throat as you desperately cough the tainted air from your lungs.

Javier frowns and sits up fully too, a hand rubbing the space between your shoulder blades. “Hey, it’s okay, cariño,” he assures you, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Just keep breathing, slowly, it’ll get out of your lungs in a second.”

You sit there, your throat tickling and begging you to cough from the smoke. It takes a moment, but you finally take a full breath of clean air. You look at Javier, your eyes watering for what seems like the millionth time tonight. “I’m sorry,” you whimper, lower lip quivering as the tears threaten to ruin what’s still dry of Javier’s shirt.

Javier gives you a sad little smile, kissing your forehead. “It’s okay. It takes practice,” he assures you, sitting back to lean in the corner of the couch and pulling you with him. “I just want you to relax, baby,” he mumbles, his lips pressed into your hair, his free arm wrapping around you and holding you back to his chest.

You cry openly now, making Javier’s blue button-up wet again with the tears that drip from your reddened eyes. “I’m sorry,” you repeat again, barely a whimper. “I can’t. I’m just so scared, Javi.”

Your job had been taking a toll on you. It had never impacted your pre-existing anxiety, yet the last few weeks had been your own personal hell. You dreamt every night of Escobar personally shooting Javi, then coming for you. You felt on edge, your body physically tense until you felt Javier’s touch. You curl into a ball against his chest, crying again.

He’s quiet. He doesn’t know what to say, what could possibly make you feel better, and so he offers the one thing he knows: his arms around you. He murmurs softly into your head, giving you quiet reassurances. When your crying stops, Javier gives you a soft shhh and kisses your head again. “Hey, you listening?”

You nod.

“Don’t you dare say you’re sorry to me. I’m here for you, even if you just need to cry it out. I want to help. Please, let me help you,” he asks, his heart broken from your pain.

“I-I’m just so scared,” you whimper. “I don’t want them to hurt me. I don’t want them to hurt you.”

Javier’s nearly in tears. “They won’t get to either of us. I have two offers for you, will you listen to them?” He asks, gentle.

Sniffling, you weakly respond with a yes.

He nods. “One. We get you a desk job. You can stay at the embassy, out of harm’s way. Does that sound okay?”

You shake your head. “No, no, because you’d still be-“

“Option number two. We ask Messina to assign us as partners.” That stops your heart for a second. “We’d never have to be apart. I can protect you in the field. You’ll always know where I am.”

You pout a little. “But Steve…”

“Fuck Steve,” Javi chuckles. “He’d understand. You know he would. And Sullivan,” he says, referring to your partner, “can go fuck himself too. You and I against the world. We’d be the most powerful duo in the entire hemisphere, don’t you think?”

You chuckle softly. “Javi. I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking me. I’m offering,” he says softly, his hand stroking your hair. He takes a puff of his cigarette and looks down at you. “You don’t have to decide now. You can think about it. I want you to be happy. I’ll do whatever I can for you.”

You sniffle again, cuddling in closer. “Then just hold me a little longer.”

He nods and sinks down further into the couch, pulling you tight. “I can do that.”

#javier peña fanfiction #javier peña headcanon #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javi peña x reader #javi peña #tw anxiety

71 notes · View notes

gwoongi · 4 years

Text

wordless pt.1

jeon jeongguk / reader genre: hitman (john wick?) au, sugar daddy au, fluff, pining, angst rating: mature words: 4.1k warnings: mentions of blood and violence, unconventional relationship, angsty themes, smoking mention a/n: this is jeongguk as john wick because i’m trash and i cant finish one story at a time. these prompts r from here btw :) im gonna do all 50 but im too lazy rn so here’s the first 10 :D

Sometimes, saying “I love you” is inappropriate, and given your circumstances, you think it might send Jeongguk over the edge if he hears them again.

Parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five

Now, it definitely was not a stretch to assume that everything in Jeongguk’s life was indeed unconventional. People didn’t need to understand that what Jeongguk did for work was something that, by the law, was considered unprofessional and inhumane, and so when asked, Jeongguk sufficed for “boss of a company”, and questions weren’t asked. If they were, Jeongguk came up with a slightly more conventional lie, to make up for the reality that was Jeongguk working on the clock, killing nobodies for a bit of cash.

Taehyung, his right-hand man, had expressed how unconventional Jeongguk seemed to be over a dinner in Venice, a little restaurant tucked away unconventionally in a street that did not belong to America. Jeongguk spoke four languages comfortably, and had parents retiring in the Canary Islands. Jeongguk donated money to women’s charities and mental health services, and helped bribe his cousins into Ivy Leagues when racism prevented them from entry. Jeongguk was a Joe-Exotic in the making and owned a rescue black panther named Elio, and had houses across the globe for use when working. And, Jeongguk was dipping his toes into playing house with a sugar baby who was only five years younger than him, of whom he had met in a stakeout which involved the hit being on your brother’s head. Unconventionally, you led him to his target, and afterwards, dined with him in a Thai restaurant.

Things in Jeongguk’s life were far from ordinary, but perhaps it was the denial of mundane comforts that kept Jeongguk going. If he went back to normality, to working a shitty customer service job like when he was seventeen, dumping trash into overflowing piles behind the off-license he worked at, things wouldn’t be the same. Jeongguk would feel alien, like he didn’t belong. At least here, amongst the pain and the bullets and the years worth of trauma packed in his wrinkles (which, yes, if he looks hard enough, he can see some cursing his twenty five year old skin), Jeongguk felt like he sort of belonged. In an unconventional way.

Having met Jeongguk during his line of work, there were difficulties in being Jeongguk’s sugar baby. For one, he always felt guilty for having murdered your brother, even though you heavily supported the hit. Your brother was a jerk, a bully with money, someone who had wronged your entire family, turned off your younger sister’s life support when there was a chance of her survival. Asshole, he deserved it. Secondly, Jeongguk was impractical and irrational and often acted selfishly, meaning he was often out of the country on work, only available in whispers for a few hours and then he was gone, compensating with a few sums of cash.

He tried his best. Jeongguk, despite technicalities including his work and his past and his occasional mean streak, genuinely cared about other people. When he could, he made the effort, otherwise not attempting to make promises to you that he could not keep. Jeongguk knows that he got really lucky when he found you. You didn’t ask questions. Nobody was better for him.

However, Jeongguk was selfish, and broken, and in refusal of fixing what was wrong with him. When it was of convenience, Jeongguk drew comparisons to the last girlfriend he tried to entertain. One who wronged him, and died when he tried to repair everything she had destroyed. Jeongguk carries that with him like the tattoos on his skin, a permanent memory, and something that often disturbs what could be and should be between the both of you.

Jeongguk is worthy of love, and capable of loving. On days where Jeongguk is free to lounge without the guilt of not working, you find it is so easy to love him. But, it can’t be that way. You couldn’t just tell him that. Telling him that you loved him would be inappropriately unconventional. Sometimes, saying “I love you” is inappropriate, and given your circumstances, you think it might send Jeongguk over the edge if he hears it again.

(1) Holding their hands when they are shaking.

Jeongguk is in his living room, his right leg bouncing like a spring as he cradles an infant glass of whiskey. His eyes are glazed, yet wide, staring at the Seoul city draped in darkness and neon, and without even looking inside, you know that his brain is spinning, thoughts chaotic and loud.

“Hey,” you call out to him, and his eyes stutter to the left to catch you in the doorway, “I heard you get up. What’s wrong?”

Jeongguk shakes his head gently. “Nothing, baby, go back to bed. I’ll be up in a minute.”

Jeongguk often makes comments without expectancies. You stand in the doorway that connects the living room to the long hall that stems into bedrooms and bathrooms, and watch him for a moment. His whole body vibrates like a speaker, his hands trembling as the glass drains and he reaches for a second, or a third, or maybe a tenth. You want to sigh, without being patronising, but you know that any sign of sympathy is mistaken for that whenever Jeongguk is around to make the judgement.

He looks back to the skyline and frowns, his attention panning from the window to his phone that buzzes blue, but he ignores. Stepping across the cool wooden floorboards, you approach him sleepily and take a seat next to him on the sofa. Neither of you move, but he recognises you’ve moved. He bristles slightly, like it was unexpected.

“You can take your time,” you suggest to him, and his hands ache in his lap as he sets the glass down on the coffee table with a careless thud. He scoffs, devoid of emotion, and dips his head so his chin is near his collarbones. In his lap, those hands shake. “Maybe don’t drink so much tonight.”

“I’m clearing my head,” he insists weakly. Those hands still shake.

Brows creased with a pinch, you swallow the unease and reach for his hands. Jeongguk doesn’t say anything as you do so, enveloping his hands in yours, and so suddenly the shaking ceases. Like trying to block the shakes from reaching his wrists, your hands keep his safe.

“I know,” you understand honestly, because you do know what he’s going through. “How about tea, or something? To calm down, calm down the mess that’s up in there.”

Your chin is on his shoulder, and he smiles softly. “Are you calling me messy?”

“Nah, I’m calling your brain messy,” you reply. “It’s a cruel fucking brain.”

“Hate my brain.”

“Today, we hate it.”

Jeongguk’s head turns slightly so that he can see you, and in his lap, his thumbs brush across your skin.

“Thank you,” Jeongguk says quietly, attempting a smile that doesn’t quite convince. It doesn’t necessarily have to, not tonight anyway. His phone continues to flash like a light show, Taehyung’s name in bold. “Fuck. I’ll take the call, and then I’ll come back to bed, okay?”

You nod, “Mm, okay. Want me to make a drink?”

“I don’t need it,” Jeongguk concludes. “Not today.”

(2) Tucking the sheets around them when they stir during the night.

Sometimes Jeongguk wakes up in the night due to nightmares, but tonight, it’s different.

Beside him, you stir uncomfortably and kick his leg for the fourth time. He huffs and looks over, trying to figure out if you’re awake and indignant, or lost in the dream. He settles on the latter when you strain out the name of your brother and his heart swoops with a dull ache.

“You’re just dreaming, baby, come on,” Jeongguk mutters quietly into your ear, holding you in place to calm the thrashing. “He’s not here anymore, I’m here. Y/N.”

It subsides after a few minutes, making it the longest you’ve gone on record. He looks into your sleepy, upset eyes as you break awake and brushes the hair out of your face. He tries to smile for you, and maybe you can’t see in the dark.

“I’ll get you some water,” Jeongguk suggests gently. “Hm? Sweet thing. It’s just a dream.” He says this into your hair in a hug, leaving a kiss on your temple as he breaks. “You’re fine.”

“I’m fine,” you breathe uneasily, and he separates to get a glass of water and returns to find you sleeping again. What relief Jeongguk might have is exhaled as he sets the glass on the bedside table, stroking your hair until he moves away with the sudden realisation that this is not a normal exchange.

Before Jeongguk decides to leave again, he makes sure the bed is made and that you are safe; he tucks the duvet in tightly and presses a kiss to your forehead before grabbing his coat by the front door and leaving your apartment, one tucked in the city so far that Jeongguk finds it a hassle to visit.

(3) Travelling long distances just to see them.

For three days now, you have been in Colmar, and Jeongguk is beginning to feel lonely. It had been his idea to send you away, when the heat on his long, long fued with a rival colleague threatened your safety. In return, you got a new apartment that Taehyung had found closer to Jeongguk’s own when your address got leaked, and Colmar could be considered a vacation if you pretended for long enough.

With tensions cool and the coast somewhat clear, Jeongguk picks the skin around his fingernails as a distraction before deciding that enough was enough. He missed you, and missed how you were always around for him when he needed you most. This is what drives him to jumping on a plane in his company’s name, and flying to France.

A small boat passes underneath the bridge you are standing on, and your hands dig into the barrier as you arch to smile at the tourists beneath. One catches a glimpse of your denim skirt and cherry print blouse in the sunshine and extends his hat with a wave, and you wave back. France is nothing like Seoul, and is indeed warm and fruitful and unique. The sun is hot, the sky is clear, and the streets are filled with an atmospheric buzz of friendliness, the smell of coffee and some food you don’t know yet entrapping your senses.

“Madame, je peux vous prendre en photo?”

Hearing the voice, you turn your body left and prepare to face the tourist, but instead you are welcomed with the sight of Jeongguk dressed in black, sunglasses sliding down his nose with a smile. He does hold a camera in his hands, although teasingly.

“Oui,” you quip, posing cutely and Jeongguk takes a photograph anyway, to humour the moment, to print when he gets back to Seoul. You join his laughter as he peers at the photograph and he walks without looking up towards you.

“When did you get here?” you ask him, a round of laughter from the little boat making you turn to stare at them with a giggle.

“Bout an hour ago,” Jeongguk replies, and he shuts off the camera and puts it in his coat pocket. It’s only a small camera, probably cost him a crumb to buy from a vintage store. He meets your eyes with a comfortable smile and rounds in, pressing your lower back against the bridge barrier and circling your arms around you. Carefully, then, he kisses you, tasting the suncream on your skin as his lips wander from yours to the skin around your face.

“Miss me?”

“Terribly,” Jeongguk responds. “I am so bored when you’re not around. You always have something to do, always have something to say.”

You hum in response. “I’m glad I’m of some entertainment for you.”

“Oh, for sure,” agrees Jeongguk. “I don’t think I’ve used my brain so often when I’m away from work as much as I do when I’m with you. Did you know that you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met?”

“Wow,” you exclaim with a smile. “Hire me.”

“Ha!” he remarks, kissing you again and taking your hand in his. He moves, back in the way you came. “Over my dead body.”

(4) Making their favorite meal when they are having a hard day.

“You.”

“Not now, Y/N, I’m working,” Jeongguk replies non committedly. He fists his hair.

“Not up for discussion right now,” you huff, and he has the nerve to glare at you which only makes you uncomfortably angry. “You haven’t eaten in fourty eight hours, and I’m not about to be held responsible for your death when you die of hunger, so get your ass in the kitchen before I dump this food over your stupid head.”

He challenges you. “You’re brave talking to somebody who could destroy your life like that.”

“Do it, I literally have nothing to lose,” you answer. “Please eat something. I made it with love and care.”

Jeongguk relents, sighing at his paperwork but nonetheless moving away from his home office and following you like a child towards the direction of the kitchen. He feels bad, you know he feels bad, and he circles his arms around your body as you walk, stumbling into the space of the kitchen and smelling the familiar aroma of pork rice stew. Alas, he sees the bowl steaming in his spot at the table and his eyes follow you as you hum and set start to washing the dishes.

“Y/N-”

“No words, just eating,” you instruct. “Bone apple tit.”

He grins, then, and takes a seat. “You know that’s not the phrase, right?”

“Tell that to Twitter,” you sigh.

(5) Giving them a kiss before going to work and they are still in bed.

Jeongguk prefers to see you when he doesn’t have work the next day, because leaving when you’re asleep is an asshole move in any dictionary. So, when one of his men phones him at four in the morning and relays the horror that someone’s died on his property, Jeongguk has to fight the demons that almost convince him to hand the job over to somebody who gives a fuck about the intruder stuck on his barbed fence.

He gets up, anyway.

Next to him, in the bed that belongs to you because this is your new apartment, Jeongguk stares down at you and feels a tug in his stomach. Guilt, it follows him everywhere like a ghost.

Before he leaves, he likes to give you a little kiss for the morning, so the tingling sensation reminds you that despite being an asshole and leaving without properly saying goodbye, he still gives several shits about you, and will be back when he can be.

(6) Tucking your head into their neck during a hug.

Jeongguk wants to hang Taehyung for making him remember the reasons why you had to move across the city to a new apartment.

It had, of course, been Jeongguk’s fault, and when the notification came from an exhausted worker in his line of work that the alarm system in your apartment had been triggered for an intruder, Jeongguk remembers all he saw was red.

The front door was forced open, a body indent in the wood and the front porch ransacked and littered with shards of glass and bullets. Inside was no prettier, with mess scattered everywhere and photos smashed on the floors. The carpets were stained with red that Jeongguk prayed was just wine, the glass coffee table in two pieces and a knife covered in red on the floor. Jeongguk and his men, along with the few police officers Jeongguk could actually trust in this god-forsaken hellhole, noticed that the blood belonged to one of the intruders who lay dead on the stairs.

Nobody knows how Jeongguk got through the apartment so fast, and why, without any hesitation, he murdered the remaining intruders without suggesting questioning and torture. That was his go-to when it rarely concerned you. He wanted those stupid enough to even try and go after you to really fucking regret it as he picked off fingernails and made them suffer for hours or days. This time he just killed, and moved onwards, calling your name like a mantra.

Jeongguk could have cried when you emerged, petrified, from inside one of the closets. Upon seeing you, Jeongguk collapsed his gun on the floor and stepped towards you protectively, pulling you in tightly for a hug. Sobbing into his neck, you hugged him tighter, feeling finally safe when his hand held the back of your head, like you were a precious thing that was of value.

You were of the highest value to Jeongguk.

“Fuck you,” Jeongguk barks suddenly, and Taehyung shrugs and exits the office. All he had asked was if he loved you.

(7) Lightly kissing on top of a freshly formed bruise.

There might be the assumption that Jeongguk comes home with more bruises than you do. Which is true, technically, and there’s no hesitation from your end in nursing them to a comfortable recovery.

On rare occasion, Jeongguk comes home and finds you exhibiting a new purple blob on your skin. Like today.

Jeongguk hasn’t seen you in two days, and when he lets himself into your apartment with the key he has glued to him at all times, he follows the silence and light to the bathroom. You sit on the edge of your bathtub, gently rubbing cream on your knee in little circles.

“What happened here?” he asks quickly, and you continue rubbing with your tongue poking out between your lips.

“You’ll laugh, don’t ask,” you mutter.

“Hey, I won’t laugh,” Jeongguk says. He rests his weight against the doorframe, “You open the front door the wrong way again?”

Ha! You laugh humourlessly. “Worse!” You look up at him sadly, “I tripped in the parking lot carrying my groceries. It’s on camera and everything, I want to die.”

Jeongguk pokes the inside of his mouth to resist laughing. “Well, fuck. That’s your leg ruined.”

“I know,” you pout. “Good thing you’re my sugar daddy- wanna pay for cosmetic leg surgery?”

“I like your bruised up legs,” says Jeongguk.

“Me too, but not these ones.”

“Bruh, that’s enough cream on your skin,” Jeongguk exclaims, moving forward to snatch the cream from your hands. “More is not better. Come on, you’re okay.”

“It hurts.”

“Boohoo,” he sighs. You don’t move. “Ugh, whatever. Come’re.”

Jeongguk drops the cream tube onto the sink but it clatters into the bowl. He’ll move it later if he remembers to, and he pretends it’s hard to pick you up off the bathtub and carries you swiftly out of the bathroom and into the living room. Things have barely moved since he last came to visit; the swarms of paper still invade your coffee table and your laptop is on sleep mode by a half-empty coffee cup filled with hot chocolate, because he knows your standing on coffee. Everything is a lot messier now that you’ve decided you want to go back to school, but at least Jeongguk knows it keeps you busy when he’s away.

“Oh,” he says suddenly, as you’re sat down with one leg up around him still. He pokes at a spot on your leg and you squirm, “there’s another one.”

You peer to look, “Oh, yeah, that one’s you.”

“Oh.” He pauses, “Pretty, though.”

You huff like a little baby and he dares you with raised eyebrows. That keeps you silent and Jeongguk moves his body at an angle to the right, sweeping to kiss the bruise better, the bruise that he made a few nights ago with tender love and care.

“All better,” he assures.

“It feels better already.”

“Mm. Magic.”

(8) Buying them something unrequested because it made you think of them.

“So, I was at a school fayre today.”

“Really?” Jeongguk sits with his laptop on his legs, and your legs are tangled around his body like some sort of jungle maze. He rarely works on his bed, not unless the work is sudden and he can’t help it. You’ve just come in, dived on the bed and claimed his waist as something to squeeze your legs around.

“Yep. Like, one of those little craft things where students sell their shit and make money from it. You know, supporting local artists! It’s really cute, if I was good at something I’d have participated.”

Jeongguk thinks of things you’re good at, and there’s a lot. “Aw. There’s always next year.”

“Yeah,” you reason. “Anyway- point is, is that I got you something.”

Jeongguk stills for a second, glancing over his right shoulder to see you, “Me?”

“Yep. You.”

“What did you get?” he asks, and then he’s back to checking blueprints.

You untangle your legs and slide off the bed, retreating to your bag slung across the room by the bedroom door. From here, you take out a small little pin-badge and when you’re sat next to Jeongguk again, you fiddle with it until it catches his attention.

“What’s this?” asks Jeongguk.

“It’s a badge of honour,” you claim, and you slip it into his palms. He fingers the front when he examines it, reading the little words of “Number One Dad” and he stares up at you. “Like it?”

“It’s for me?” he asks again.

“Yeah. You can wear it and like, I don’t know, think of me,” you shrug.

Jeongguk thinks for a moment. Even though it’s stupid, and cliche and a little bit embarrassing, he still thinks it’s funny and thoughtful.

“Want me to wear it to work?” he asks you.

“Oh, absolutely,” you encourage. “I’ll get Taehyung an uncle badge if he gets pissy.”

“Hey, you’re mine and he’s not allowed a relationship to you, no matter what definition,” Jeongguk pouts. “He wants a sugar niece, well...he’ll have to look somewhere else.”

You gape. “Wow. Who thought you had it in you to be so possessive.”

“Please, with a pussy like that of course I’m possessive,” he teases. He’s joking.

“My power,” you sigh anyway, and jump off the bed claiming that you’re hungry. Jeongguk looks at the badge again and pops it in his breast pocket before he loses it and regrets it.

(9) Participating in their hobby even if it doesn’t personally interest you.

Jeongguk’s bored out of his brain.

He has no idea how you can be so fascinated by this stupid game where you’re essentially in debt, but he still sits and watches you tour him around this weird island that is inhabited by ducks and an ugly gorilla villager dressed in pink. And to think that he had a part to play in all of this, because his bank account definitely helped pay for this Nintendo Switch and game.

“Do you like my beach?” you ask him. It’s literally just sand and one coconut tree, and a few shells by the water. Oh, there’s a beach chair on there too, but it makes little difference. “I’m poor, I can’t afford furniture yet.”

“Can’t you just make it?”

“I can, but I’m sick of making axes to collect wood,” you explain with a grudge against the fact that tools now break in this Animal Crossing game. Jeongguk hums like he’s invested, and he tries to be, because he cares about you too much to unintentionally hurt your feelings by displaying his crippling disinterest.

“Oh. Makes sense.”

“Can I show you my hybrid flower garden?”

He sighs. “Yeah, you wanted to show me all of your island, right?”

You nod enthusiastically. “Once you’ve had a tour, I can make you a profile and you can play too. You can live next door to me!”

“Why can’t we share a house?” Jeongguk presses.

“Because I don’t think it works like that, babe,” you confess. “Anyway. Here’s my garden.”

(10) Sitting in comfortable silence while eating a meal.

He’s tired. You’re tired.

The radio plays quietly updating Seoul on the fires that spread across the city today, and Jeongguk smells like smoke and salt. He keeps his head down as he eats his meal, something he brought home with him to make up for the fact that he’s been absent for almost a week now. You have so many things to say and he has so many things he needs to say to make up for everything, but nothing is said tonight.

You know he’s having a hard time, because Jeongguk’s been smoking again. He smoked on the balcony earlier, and once again in the bedroom. There are now ashtrays around your own apartment, and you don’t even smoke. Jeongguk takes a drink of bourbon and swallows it dry.

You look up at him from across the table, not wanting to press the issue when you know it’ll end in an argument, and then sex to make up for it. You’re both too tired to fuck today, too tired to speak. Just being in each other's company is enough for tonight. The only words he says are goodnight and something you don’t catch as you’re drifting off to sleep. Jeongguk’s awake all night, the fires burn until early hours, and the smoke smell is still there in the morning even when he isn’t.

#im sick of myself and my brain making new fics instead of finishing current ones #oh well #jungkook scenario #bts scenario #jeongguk scenario #jungkook x reader #bts #bangtan #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #jeongguk x reader #jeon jeongguk #jeon jungkook #jjk #bts mafia au #sugar daddy au #wordless

737 notes · View notes

alfredosauce50 · 3 years

Text

Mille feuille [Policeman! England x reader]

Synopsis: He knew what he signed up for when he put on the blue uniform. But nothing could’ve prepared him for this.

He did everything by the book. And yet, for the first time in his career, he’s responsible for a failed hostage situation. While he faces the aftermath of devastating guilt knowing he couldn’t save an innocent life, he spirals down a path of self-destruction. You’ve just returned from France after studying patisserie, and you immediately notice. He turned back to smoking. Drank more. Talked less. Unable to watch him lose himself, you encouraged him to take on new hobbies as a distraction. He has no idea where to begin until he eats a dessert you left for him in the fridge. He never mixed well with kitchens, but maybe, just maybe, he could surprise himself, and you.

Wordcount: 4,998 Warning: Light gore in the beginning. Proceed with caution.

It was meant to be a peaceful night.

The vibrant pulsing of red and blue forced him to squint. But there was nothing he could do to muffle the ear-splitting wail of sirens. Everyone in the neighborhood had been asleep, now slowly arising to the disturbances in the streets. God, he wished he was still in bed too. His job couldn’t guarantee such a luxury, so he was sent out in his car along with several other officers. And it wasn’t a task he could simply put off for tomorrow.

For the past hour, he had been shouting through a loudspeaker. Reasoning. Instructing. He tried everything. Then, pleading. Assuring. Nothing he said was unaccounted for. But in their frazzled state of mind, they never budged, keeping the barrel of a gun aimed at the poor girl’s head.

He could pull the trigger at any moment and send her into oblivion. Her life was dangled over the edge, and whether she’d keep it depended solely on his ability to convince him to lower the gun. “We’re here to help you, Adam. If you put it away, we won’t hold this against you. It’s a promise.” The said man shook his head, keeping the firearm pressed against her temple with a shaky hand.

“No... No! You’re just... You’re just saying that. I’m gonna end up in jail like the rest, aren’t I?”

The Brit swallowed thickly. “No, you won’t. We’re going to get you the help you need first. Alright?” He spotted the man do just that, albeit slowly. But perhaps, he was celebrating too early. Before he lowered his arm completely, he gestured to all the cars with his brows knitted together. “Tell them to go away first. I don’t wanna see a single one of you’s. How do I know you’re not lying?”

Arthur cursed under his breath and reached for his communicator.

“Get them out of here. All of them.”

It was a risk he was willing to take if it meant he could save them both. He could feel it in his gut. The SWAT team was getting into position in the surrounding buildings, ready to let the bullets fly. It was only a matter of time before they could get a clear shot. But as he spoke with the troubled man, he couldn’t bring himself to resort to that as a solution. If he could talk to him for a little longer, do what he asked, surely, things would turn out how he wanted them to.

The cars pulled out of the driveway. “They’re all gone. Now all you have to do is drop the gun. Then you’ll be home free.”

Adam loosened his fingers around the firearm, but that was when Arthur’s communicator crackled again.

“We have a clear shot. Permission to engage.”

“No. Hold your fire. He’s nearly there.” He whisper-shouted that into the device, but his mouth was too close to the loudspeaker. While the hostage-taker could only make out a few words, fire was enough to spark fear and reduce him to a primitive state of mind. Darting his wide eyes over the nearby infrastructure, he felt his heart sink at the black windows watching his every move.

“Fuck.” The officer breathed, watching all his progress undo itself as the other’s face contorted with betrayal, then terror. Then, he kicked the door open the door behind him, and dragged the girl inside. “No!” Dropping the loudspeaker, he chased after him. As he dashed through the dim halls behind the shopping district, he was forced to listen to her bloodcurdling screams. And it was the last sound she’d ever make before her life came to an abrupt end.

A gun went off. The explosion echoed to him and all color drained from his face. But he persisted, following him to the backdoor of the bakery where it all began. Beads of sweat had formed around his forehead, but he never cared to wipe them. Not when he was now met with the biggest mistake of his life. Not being able to save one. There on the bloodied tiles laid the girl he’d been trying to save, long dead and gone.

But the fear on her face was fresh.

Standing over her body was her killer, grinning at him tiredly.

“... I didn’t want you to find me, and she wouldn’t shut up.”

Arthur couldn’t even respond. Instead, he pulled inwards, staring wide-eyed at the corpse of a young girl. He’d failed to save her, and it was slowly dawning on him. So even when the man raised his gun again, the guilt quickly amassing in his tightening chest stopped him from lifting a finger. But he knew he wouldn’t die here. Instead, he’d be cursed to live a fate worse than death.

Watching the other point it at himself, he grit his teeth when a finger curled around the trigger.

Bang.

Blood splattered all over his face.

He’d never forget the taste of iron on his tongue. The stench of gunpowder. But it was the sight of them that would be ingrained in his mind forever.

A week had gone by. But it still felt like yesterday they died in front of him. He’d relive the moment, again and again, the memory haunting him like the vengeance felt by their tortured souls.

In every moment of silence, the screams of the girl would fill them. And every time he closed his eyes, he’d dream of the same minute where he’d run through those halls. Find her dead body on the ground. Then watch his twisted smile contort as he blew himself apart. All his mistakes that Godforsaken night cost both of their lives, and the regret grew so unfathomably potent, he began to question the worth of his own.

How could he have been so reckless? He’d clearly bit off more than he could chew, thinking he could save them both. He couldn’t. And he walked out in shame with blood on his face. But he felt it. The invisible blood on his hands.

He should’ve given the sniper the green light. That way, he could’ve saved at least one of them. The girl who stayed overtime at her shitty, minimum wage bakery job.

He failed to do anything right that day, and this was the devastating aftermath.

He wished he could just forget it all.

But no, he was alone with his thoughts. You weren’t here, so there was no way to channel his emotions, let alone get over it. Not as long as he could still think, anyway. So he opted to do the unforgivable. He’d pick up bad habits he dropped for you.

Every day, he’d visit the same bar, order the same drinks. Drink until he could barely see his own hands. Hangovers weren’t a problem, so what was stopping him? His department was considerate enough to put him on leave, so he had all the time in the world to do nothing in particular, nothing except this. Downing the last of his beer, he slammed the glass on the counter and groaned at the bartender. “Can I get a whiskey over here? I’m running low.”

The other shook his head and clicked his tongue. “No can do, man. You’re drunk enough already. I think it’s time for you to head home.”

“Wha-aaat? I’m not drunk.”

“Yes, you are.”

Arthur leaned forward with an accusing glare. “I’ll have you know... I’m a... I’m a cop, alright? If you don’t listen to me... I might just... Arrest you.”

The bartender furrowed his brows. “Uh, sure you can.” He scoffed, continuing to polish a glass in his hands. “It doesn’t matter what you are. If you’re drunk, you can’t have any more. It’s the law. And newsflash pal, it applies to you as well.”

“... You’re no fun.” He slurred out, sliding himself off his stool. Before he could fall flat on his face, he wound up stumbling forward a few steps. Then, he spun to him with next to no grace and pointed at him with an index. “But I’ll see you tomorrow. You better have that... Whiskey ready for me when I come.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just make sure you’re still alive to drink it.”

“No promises.”

Even he had no idea how he made it back home in one piece. But he did, collapsing right on his bed in the first couple of seconds upon getting inside. Kicking his shoes off and throwing off his clothes to a random spot in the room, he slid himself under the covers. He couldn’t tell if it was his inflamed skin making the sheets so cold, or if it was because you weren’t here. Speaking of which, his phone buzzed with a reminder in his calendar.

Holding it above his face, he scanned the contents. That was right. You were arriving at the airport tomorrow afternoon, and he was supposed to come and pick you up. He almost forgot.

Then, the first thought he had through his pounding headache was one of relief. Your plane wasn’t landing in the morning. After that came the excitement to see you after months of your absence. The house didn’t feel like a home without you, because home was wherever you were. He would’ve packed his bags and flown to France with you, but alas, he had a job, and this job ended up ruining him. But never mind that.

He needed you now more than ever.

It was a little after one did he arrive at the airport, but he didn’t leave his car before squeezing some eye drops in. Blinking that away, he fixed his hair in the overhead mirror. You’ve got this, Arthur. You look positively dashing. Was what he told himself, but he wished he’d believe it too. There were bags under his eyes, and there was tiredness dulling them that never seemed to go away even after sleeping in for a week.

Stepping out of the vehicle to walk to the entrance, he stuffed his hands in his pockets. He hadn’t walked this much in a while.

Upon getting inside, he fixed his hair again after the wind tousled it. However, there was still one untamed lock sticking out on his head, but he never had the time to deal with it when you came walking out of the international arrivals. As he watched you glance around expectantly, a smile immediately lit up his face and his heart swelled with warmth. It was so obvious how your mind worked--how you’d been thinking of him. It was completely normal after he agreed to come, but it filled him up with nostalgia nevertheless.

This nostalgia would only deepen into something else entirely as the day would progress. A potent kind of lovesickness.

“(F/N)!” He called out, the sound of the familiar voice turning your head his way. “Over here, love!” You let out a euphoric squeal, pushing your suitcase so it would roll in his direction--all so you could pounce on him.

“Arthur, oh my god!”

He caught you in his arms and breathed out a few laughs, then buried his nose in your hair. Oh, how he missed this scent.

“Welcome home. You don’t know how much I missed you.” Arthur knitted his brows together at that, the words he spoke prompting a rush of emotions to come sweeping in like a tidal wave. Only now did he realize how much he actually missed you. The epiphany was overwhelming, even, leaving his chest to ache in all the right places.

Thank God you were here. Your presence was nothing short of a reality check, and feeling you envelop your arms around him pushed him closer and closer to the edge. But hearing your voice broke him.

“Mhm... I’m home, Arthur. And I missed you too.” Pulling away to feel heat radiate to your face, you were shocked to see tears streaming down to his chin. He was crying. Concern flashed in your eyes and you cupped his red hot cheeks. He was never the type to be emotional, let alone in public.

But seeing you was enough to start the waterworks.

He just couldn’t take it. The contrast between you and him was drastic. Even after a flight, you were bursting at the seams with energy and a love for life. You’d been studying and practicing your craft for months, while he was buried up to the neck with work he was barely keeping up with. And eventually, it all caught up, drowning him and leaving him in the worst shape he’d ever been in.

“Hey... What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

He hung his head to hide himself. He even had to make a mental note to talk away from you because of the traces of tobacco in his breath.

“... It’s alright. I’ll tell you when we get home.” All you heard was a faint whisper. From that, you understood he didn’t want to ruin the mood of a reunion, but by his definition, he already did.

It wasn’t something you’d hold against him for. Frankly speaking, you were just worried sick. But that was exactly what he wanted to avoid.

Reaching out to his untamed lock of hair, you patted it down. And there, it stayed.

The ride back was mostly quiet. While you enthused him about your travels, you came to understand his one-line responses of ‘that’s nice’ or ‘good job’ it was best to stay silent. Whatever he was holding in was serious. He’d never been like this before, so soft-spoken, so jaded. It showed in his grayed complexion. Hollow cheeks. You even thought he’d start tipping off when the conversation died. Though one had to wonder if it was even a conversation at all.

When you managed to unpack and shower, you went straight to the kitchen to check the pantry. There was nothing but cereal and instant food. The fridge only had condiments too, not even milk.

“... Arthur, when was the last time you went shopping?”

He rubbed the nape of his neck. “Uh... Like... Two weeks ago.”

At the start of your relationship, this wouldn’t have been alarming considering how disastrous he was on a stove. But you started teaching him a few basic recipes even a child could easily manage, so you wouldn’t have to worry about him starving.

Turning to him with a small sigh, you walked up to him and held his hands. “What am I gonna do with you, huh?” You smiled softly. “Don’t tell me you’ve only been eating instant stuff while I’ve been gone. I know your taste isn’t that bad that you’d start eating cereal with water.”

He lit up like a Christmas tree and his face scrunched up. “Of course not! I’ve just been eating other things. Like... Like--” Take out. Air. Water. “--cereal bars.”

“Oh really? Which brand?”

Arthur closed his eyes as a frown downturned his features. “I can’t ever lie to you, can I?” You grinned.

“Nope. Now, what do you say we go on a little shopping trip?”

He blinked. “But you just got home, love. Aren’t you tired?”

“Sure I am.” He squeezed your hands as an apologetic expression contorted at his face. “But I can’t have you starving, can I? I’d say you’re looking a little worse off than me, to be honest.” Arthur separated his lips to interject, even when you were right on the mark. Raising a finger to his mouth to shush him, you offered another reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll drive. And I’m a little more energetic after showering. So cheer up, okay?”

His cheeks flushed red once more, but not out of embarrassment. Then, heat built up behind his eyes. “... Right. I’ll do my best.” It wouldn’t be long before his vision would start blurring.

He always loved how observant you were, but just this once, he wished you wouldn’t have to worry about him. But that was too selfish to expect of you.

Throughout the whole shopping trip, he looped a finger around one of your belt loops. He actually wanted to hold your hand, badly, but couldn’t.

You were pushing a cart after all, and while you made your way around the store, you’d catch him staring at you from behind. Even after checking a few times, his gaze on you never faltered, which left you flustered to know he’d been watching you the whole time. He never made a move to leave your side either, and remained stitched to you by the hip.

“Arthur, you wanna make yourself useful and go fetch me some milk? I didn’t bring you here just for you to follow me around.” You gave him a side-eye, finding him tense up with an awkward smile.

He was always so adorable when he was caught off guard.

“Oh yeah. Did you need anything else?”

It would only be a matter of seconds before he’d start blushing.

You hummed and reached out for his hips. “Actually, yes. Vanilla beans. Vanilla Extract. Oh! And puff pastry.” Spinning him around, you gave him a light push on the back. “Off you go now.”

Stumbling forward a few steps, he looked at you over his shoulder.

There it was--his cheeks were rosy as he stared at you through a frown.

You waved at him with a grin.

“What are you standing around for? Go!”

When you had dinner with him, you came to realize that shopping ended up being the best part of the day. Rather than indulging himself in a conversation with you, he sat there quietly and fiddled with his food. He only managed to finish half of it before scraping together the courage to tell you he was full. From that, you knew it wasn’t just stress that made him so down.

It only became more apparent when you laid in bed with him, feeling his kisses pepper over your neck and shoulder. Even after brushing his teeth, you could smell the traces of his cigarette breath. Hadn’t he quit ages ago? Needless to say, you were about to get to the bottom of it all, and find out what happened while you were gone. Clamping a hand over his mouth before he could seal it with yours, you leaned in. “Not so fast. I can smell the tobacco.”

He froze. Panic gripped hold of his system and he pulled away.

He was much too careless. Again.

But never mind that. “... Sorry.” Burying his hands in his hair, he turned away from you with a look of shame. “I was meant to drop the habit years ago. But I couldn’t stop myself. I’m sorry.”

It always broke your heart to see him so apologetic, so you didn’t hesitate to hug him. “Don’t be sorry. I know you’ve been struggling, and I’ll help you through it.”

An hour had passed since he told you everything, and it was only then did you process what he said. And you mirrored his every emotion and thought, managing a few tears yourself as he spoke to you.

The guilt he shouldered wasn’t something anybody should ever have to experience. And as thoroughly convinced he was it was his fault that two people were dead, you reminded him he wasn’t a God. He had no way of foretelling the future. He was a flawed human being, and he couldn’t blame himself for it. Not forever, at least. But you couldn’t expect him to move on so quickly.

So you’d help him forgive himself.

And you would start with this. While he had his face turned to the side, you moved it back to you. Leaning in slowly, he tilted his head to an angle fit for a kiss. Before he let his lips brush against yours, he whispered this. “... Are you sure you wanna do this? You’ll taste it...”

You furrowed your brows together and tightened your coils around his neck, bringing his body in to feel it press flush against yours.

“I don’t care what you taste like. Nothing will stop me from kissing you.”

“Fuck.” He breathed, screwing his eyes shut as his heart began to ache.

This ache then spread from his chest to the very ends of his body as he lingered over what you said. It was a miracle how mere words from you would leave him completely inundated, inundated with a terrible case of lovesickness. And he had no intention to hide it. “Kiss me now, then...”

You did exactly that, sealing the gap between your lips and his. When you did, tears overwhelmed his eyes once more, streaming down your cheek until you could taste the salt of them in your mouth. Securing his hands on your waist, he fell on his back and pulled you over him without parting. The whole night, you slept on top of his chest, and he never loosened his arms around you.

When he woke up, you were nowhere in sight. And it hurt to see you gone so early in the morning, but it wasn’t as if he could make you stay. He was the one on leave, not you. There was still a café to be run, and you were in charge of opening today. Forcing himself to get out of bed, he sauntered into the kitchen and opened the fridge. This time, there was actual food inside.

He scanned the contents before pulling out a plate with cling wrap over it.

On the top was a sticky note.

Breakfast :)

Since you couldn’t come to France with me, I’ll bring France to you!

Smiling to himself at that, he unwrapped the plastic to reveal some kind of fancy-looking dessert. In between three layers of puff pastry was a yellowish-white cream with marbled chocolate on the uppermost layer as garnish. Without wasting another second, he pulled open a drawer to get a fork. Stabbing himself a piece, his mouth was already watering before he even tasted it.

It was delicious.

But in the next minute or so, it was gone. He’d never eaten something so quickly. Hell, he practically inhaled it. That was when he realized that one slice wasn’t enough.

Setting the plate in the sink, he peered around the fridge to see if he could find some more. He huffed out a sigh of disappointment when he couldn’t. What he did find was some leftover ingredients. While he had no idea what went in these... Whatever they were called, he guessed they were made from the puff pastry he found. But the cream was the real gamechanger.

He could try baking the pastry, but he figured he’d wait for you to come home to do anything else.

When you did come home, you found him sitting around the kitchen island.

“I’m back!” Before he kissed you on the cheek as per usual, he scurried over to you and inspected the bags you were carrying. No desserts in there. A weird smile curled at your lips as you watched him stand up straight again. “Aren’t you curious? What were you expecting to find in there?”

Arthur rubbed the nape of his neck and laughed nervously. “Oh... Nothing. Just that... Dessert you had in the fridge for me. It was really good, by the way. Thank you.” Before he let the subject change to something else, he gripped your shoulders much to your surprise. “I know I might be asking for the impossible, but... You always have leftover ingredients in the fridge, and I was wondering if you could... You know...” As he trailed off as his face reddened.

Oh boy. If he was asking you to make some more, he wouldn’t be this embarrassed. But no, it was something entirely different he wanted.

“Could you maybe... Teach me how to make it?”

You blinked a few times at the unexpected request before bursting into a fit of laughter. That was when he exploded in numerous shades of crimson. Was it perhaps too much to ask for? He always was terrible in the kitchen, and it became an inside joke between you and him. “I-I mean, you don’t have to! I was just thinking... Because you told me to find something to do to distract myself and everything--”

Before he could ramble on and go on a tangent, you gave him an affectionate pinch on the cheek. “I didn’t say no, dummy. Of course, I’ll teach you.”

He lit up. “Really?”

You nodded. “Why not? If you want to make use of scraps in the fridge, I won’t stop you.” Leading him into the kitchen, you saw that he already brought out the puff pastry to thaw. "You’re a smart cookie, aren’t you?”

He totally wasn’t going to throw it straight in the oven. Definitely not.

With what you had readily available, you and Arthur made a small batch of mille-feuille. It turned out amazing, which was a given considering you did all the heavy lifting. Nevertheless, he was smiling like an idiot as he dug into his creation. That was when an idea struck you. Since he asked to be taught how to make it, you needed to test what he learned, didn’t you?

This would certainly keep him busy for the next few weeks.

When you proposed the idea, he paled. He took what he said back. There was no way he could do this himself, as simple as you made it look.

“On second thoughts, maybe not--”

You were you, he was him. Arthur. The man who could set his cereal on fire. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration, but it wasn’t far off the mark. It was only recently did he figure out how to make pasta. The pre-made kind. As hopeless as that sounded for a fully grown adult, it was enough for you to believe in him.

While he couldn’t share the same optimistic sentiments, you always saw the good in him that he couldn’t.

“I want you to. This'll keep you busy at home. It’s better than hitting up the bar, don’t you think?” He fell silent. He wasn’t arguing with that.

So a few days later, he gave it a go like you suggested, only to end up wasting a whole pot of cream.

It was lumpy. Inedible. Disappointing.

Hanging his head by the counter, he prodded at the small bumps inside the mixture, defeated. He really couldn’t do anything right. You’d tell him he was stretching things, but he couldn’t stop his train of thought from venturing off to a topic he forbid himself to linger on. He was unable to do his job, and he couldn’t do yours either.

“Goddammit.” He grumbled out bitterly. “Sorry to disappoint, (F/N)... I think you have too much faith in me.”

Speak of the devil.

“I think I have just the right amount of faith, excuse me.”

He nearly jumped. “(F/N)? How long have you been standing there?”

You made your way to his side to peer over his shoulder. “Just a few seconds. I wanted to check up on your progress.” Seeing that things didn’t turn out well, you pat him on the back. It was an improvement nevertheless, so you weren’t giving up on him yet. “You didn’t burn it, so I’m proud of you.”

Not that it was that great of an achievement you made it out to be. That was precisely why he found himself red in the face.

“Just make sure to stir it quick enough. And make sure you cook the cream on low heat. Try again in a few days. Don’t give up yet!”

Leaving the kitchen at that, he was left to his own thoughts.

He couldn’t say he believed in himself, but he’d give it another shot. Like you said, baking was far better than his take on coping mechanisms. Even if he was terrible at it. But unbeknownst to him, that would change over the next few weeks as he improved. And slowly but surely, he’d come up with something on par with what you’d serve in your café. Piping out the last of his cream, he stacked the last layer of pastry on top before forking a piece to his mouth.

Dropping the fork to the counter in a clatter, he ran to his bedroom--or more accurately put, the bedroom he shared with you--and pulled you into the kitchen. Did he just bake something? Good? Something that didn’t taste like raw dough or scorched rocks? He was in too much disbelief to trust his own judgment. So he made you try it. And surely enough, you were in just as much shock.

“This... This is amazing. I could actually sell this.” You stared at him with wide eyes, feeling a wide smile work its way to your face. “People would pay for this, Arthur. And you made it!”

He dug his hands through his hair. “Oh my god. I actually did.” He shook his head. “Or maybe I was possessed. By the girl... At the bakery. It could be possible. Maybe she followed me home and--”

You pulled him in for a kiss to shut him up.

“Nobody possessed you. You made this yourself, so give yourself the credit you deserve.” Your wide smile softened. As always, you saw the good in him that he couldn’t. And every time, you would prove him wrong about himself. You just hoped he would realize it too--he wasn’t the static person he thought he was. Like everyone else, he could learn and grow.

Pulling you in for a tight embrace, he breathed out a few shaky laughs.

“I really did.” He murmured out airily.

It was only just a few baby steps he made, but eventually, he’d come to learn the hardest thing of all that baking followed as a close second. It could take months or even years, but with you around, he’d learn to forgive himself.

#Hetalia fanfiction #hetalia x reader #hetalia fanfic #england x reader #Hetalia #axis powers hetalia #axis powers ヘタリア

46 notes · View notes

babeyvenus · 3 years

Text

The Wolf Among Us

Bigby x OC

Summary: Sonya Blaze, A.K.A. Hell Rider, is a half fable, half mundy girl who comes to Fabletown to learn more about her side of the folktales. She works alongside Sheriff Bigby Wolf's as his newest partner and together they strive to find out who's behind the unexpected murders in Fabletown.

TW: Mentions of death, gore/blood, alcohol, smoking, drugs, sex implications, suicide, guns and ofc language.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Chapter 14: Jersey Devil

They walked down the hall to the sound of shouting. “And you didn’t want to tell me what you were into, either!!”, they hear Beast yell.

“With good reason. Look what happened.”, Beauty argues.

“So that’s back on me now? I thought we agreed that was settled.”, said Beast.

Sonya looked over at Bigby, “What’s going on with them?” Bigby sighs. “When I went to the Open Arms, I found Beauty at the front desk and when we were about to open Crane’s room, Beast showed up. Wasn’t listening to a word. We fought and that was that.”

“Jesus… he’s completely different from what I imagined him to be.”, she says.

“You said it was settled. That doesn’t mean I have to agree to it.”, Beauty said, as they walked up to the door. “And when were you going to tell me? Or were you going to keep that a secret too?”, Beast asked.

“You know what it was. You know what was going on, Beast. I had to get a job, and you wouldn’t have it. Don’t make it into something it wasn’t.”, Beauty harshly whispered. The two outside awkwardly glanced at before Bigby knocked on the door.

The door swings open a bit to reveal an irritated Beast. “Oh. What do you want?”, Beast asked, his mood even more sour. “You called, right?”, Bigby asked. “Or, uh….was it Beauty?”

“Why would I call you?”, Beast sneered. Sonya rolled her eyes. ‘He’s definitely different from Disney’s version…’ Bigby frowned. “Listen, I’ve had a shitty night…”

“You think you’re the only one?”, Beast asked. “And we really don’t wanna deal with the runaround. Snow said you called and wanted to talk to us.”, Bigby adds. “Well, I didn’t call. Must have been Beauty. She’s been….surprising me a lot lately.”, Beast says, looking down.

“Can we just-”

“So have you, Bigby. Yet, with all the sneaking around and secrets, somehow, I’m still the bad guy in this. I’ve had to hear about it all night long from her.”, Beast said. He glared at Sonya as well. “You too. You had no reason to lie to me.”

Sonya gave him an unimpressed look. “I dunno if you've noticed but we’re not marriage counselors.”

Beast wanted to retaliate but Beauty cut him off. “Who is it?”

“Can you just let us in.”, Sonya sighed. “Let’s not get into busting down doors today, okay?”, Bigby asks, with arched eyebrows, Beast growls a sigh and slams the door shut.

Bigby and Sonya looked at each other before the door was yanked open again. “It’s your pals. Bigby and Sonya.”, Beast mocked.

Beauty gave them an apologetic smile. “Hi guys. Please excuse us for just a minute?” She walks over to Beast. “Can I talk to you in private?”

“Yes. Let’s.”, Beast said, leading them into a room and shutting the door. Sonya shakes her head. “Hm. I guess I really do have the smallest apartment in the Woodlands.”, Bigby mutters. “At least yours isn’t cramped. I still think its unfair.”, she muttered.

There was a large couch and two chairs set around a table in the middle of the room. Behind the couch was a fireplace with vases on top of it.

There was a shelf with books and fancy objects on it. There was also a large portrait painting of Beauty and Beast back in the Homelands.

“They actually look happy…”, Sonya mutters and looks up at the ceiling and sees a beautiful chandelier. “Wonder what the electric bill is for that thing?”, Bigby mutters. He walks over a white urn with blue roses designs around it, tapping it with his knuckles. Sonya’s eyes widened. “Stop it. It looks antique.”

They turn to Beast and Beauty as they walk out of the room. “Sorry, it’s been a long night.”, Beauty apologizes.

“Yeah, you know what they say. Centuries of marriage come with centuries of baggage.”, Beast said, making Sonya cross her arms. “I gotta say, your place…it looks, uh…expensive.”, Bigby says as he looks around. “What do you mean by that?” Beast asked, offended.

“Beast!”, Beauty says in a warning tone. “No, really, I wanna know. What are you trying to say, huh?”, Beast asked.

“Aren’t you guys having money problems? Cause it doesn't look like you’re suffering.”, Sonya said, getting in front of Beast. “Is this something about that loan you took out? From the Crooked Man?”, Bigby asked Beauty.

“I didn’t know what else to do, so–”

“We should deal with this on our own. Bigby and Sonya are just going to complicate things.”, Beast says to Beauty. “I called them here, and I want to see if they can help us out. Why are you being like this?”, Beauty asked, tired.

“I’m just trying to do what’s best for us.”, Beast says.

“If she wanted to help you guys earn more money, what’s the harm? Y’all are obviously in some type of trouble, so what is it? Either it’s the money, or it’s something else.”, Sonya asked.

The married couple glanced at each other before looking back at them. “I gotta know one thing, first. What if we did have something to say about the Crooked Man? What if we talk, and neither of you get him and all this comes back on us? We’d be risking a lot. We’ve seen what happens when you cross the Crooked Man.”, Beast said.

Sonya frowned. “Y’all are in danger. You two need to tell us what we need to know so we can help.”, she said, tiredly.

“But if you’d rather deal with this on your own…”, Bigby started. “No, please...”, Beauty pleads. “Then tell us what the fuck is going on! You’re in so much debt? Look around you. This isn’t the way people short on cash live.”, Bigby yelled, pointing at the room.

“Look, we’re used to a certain kind of….lifestyle, okay? We couldn’t just give that up.” Beast replied. “We never meant for it to get like this. It’s just that…we had nowhere else to turn. And we got in over our heads.” said Beauty.

“Sometimes you have to think for your needs rather than your wants. Y’all would rather choose riches and starve if it meant y’all could live the way you used to.”, Sonya says, shaking her head.

"There’s not a lot of work out there. Who would we be if we just lived like…”, Beast started to say but their phone suddenly rang.

Sonya and Bigby turn to look at it while Beauty and Beast hold each other in fear. The phone rings until it goes to voicemail.

“Hi there! You’ve reached Beauty…

and Beast

and we’re out doing something fabulous.”

“Uh, let me just, uh….”, Beast walks towards the phone but Sonya gives him a fixed look. “We’re not done here.”, Bigby said.

“A day at the beach?

skiing the slopes?

We can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message at the beep and we will get to you as…..humanly possible!”

The recording finishes and a deep gravelly voice comes through the speaker, angry and aggressive. “That fucking message... I’m gonna come down there and bash your heads in with that machine if I have to call again and hear that fucking message one more time! I’ve been doing this long enough to know that if you had the cash, you’d have paid by now. So consider yourselves outta warnings. The Crooked Man’s gonna get his. One way or—”

“Fuck this….”, Bigby said as he goes to pick up the phone but the phone already hung up. “Shit.”, he mutters and he sets the phone back down. Sonya turned to the couple. “All we care about is how can we find the Crooked Man? Who do we talk to? Where do we go?”

Beauty and Beast look at each other for a moment as they hold each other. “The Lucky Pawn. That’s where I borrowed the money. The Crooked Man’s behind that place.”, Beauty whimpered. “I’d overheard people talking to Jersey about loans before. So….when I needed money….that’s where I went. I didn’t know what to do.”

“Wait, who do you deal with?”, Bigby asked. “Jersey. You know, the Jersey Devil?”, Beauty said. “Jersey Devil…?”, Sonya asks. “Oh, yeah…", Bigby said. "That slimy prick…..didn’t realize he was back on this side of the river.”

“And those Tweedles were always going in and out, probably dropping off a loan payment they squeezed out of some poor Fable. But never the Crooked Man. Mainly it’s just regular Fables. I can see now that it was a mistake, but….I’m not the only one who goes there, y'know. I saw the Woodsman’s axe there just the other day. It was in a display case.”, Beauty said, making Bigby and Sonya glance at each other in shock.

“I guess he’s hit hard times, too. There’s a lot of that going around. I can’t imagine he has a lot of marketable skills.”, Beast said.

“Sometimes….Fables just don’t have anywhere else to go.” Beauty said. “Fucking Bloody Mary must go through there. She had Woody’s axe last night. Tried to chop my damn head off with it!” Bigby growled.

“Maybe if you two go there you can….sort some things out.”, Beauty said. “I guess we’ll go check out the Lucky Pawn.”, Sonya sighed.

“If we can’t track down the Crooked Man there, maybe we can make enough noise that the Crooked Man will come find us.”, Bigby suggested. “Hold on, Bigby, don’t go there. Sounds like you two are just going to get Beauty in trouble.” Beast says.

He sat down on the couch. “You know that butcher shop? The Cut Above? It’s the place on Tubman Street. Same block as the Baker and the candlestick maker. Well, I’ve been delivering packages from there for a while. The thing is….it’s for the Crooked Man. And….I don’t think it’s meat in the packages. You gotta understand, I needed work.”

“You have to believe us.”, Beauty begged. “Did you ever deliver to the Crooked Man? Can you give us an address?”, Sonya asked.

"No. I delivered to places all over town. But never to the man himself. It never seems to be heading to the same place. But it always comes out of the butcher shop.“, Beast replied.

"How did you get involved with this?”, Bigby asked.

“Johann, the butcher, called. He had a problem with the refrigeration unit one night. But when I finished, it was your pal, Mary, who showed up to pay me. She said I was reliable, she liked that, and….it’s the only thing I’ve been able to pick up. And it��s still not enough. I don’t want Beauty to have to work. Especially not where she was.”. Beast says, looking down.

“It’s Mary you deal with? Bloody Mary is there?”, Sonya asked. “No, Johann is the one who hands over the packages. You know, day to day. But I’ve seen her around there. She, uh…gets under my skin, you know? I…I try to avoid her…but I don’t need to tell you two what she’s like.” Beast said.

“You’re damn right you don’t. I don’t need a run down on her reputation. If Mary works outta there, Sonya and I need to look into it…”, Bigby said.

Beauty walks over to Beast and places her hand over his. “I just wanted to provide for Beauty. Give her the kind of life she deserves.”, Beast said. “We shouldn’t have to live like this. Scraping to get by.” said Beauty.

“None of us should.”, Beast says, getting up. “We were royalty once. We were accustomed to a certain lifestyle. All we want is to make this place feel a little bit like home. You two wouldn’t understand, Bigby.”

“I don’t need to understand. It’s not my fucking job to understand. My job is to keep Fabletown safe.”, Bigby addressed.

“There’s also other Fables out there who are worse off than you two. Have you ever thought about that? I’m pretty sure lots of fables would love to have almost everything you have in here.”, Sonya said to them.

Beast sighs. “So….where are you going? If this all goes sideways, I’d like to know where it’s coming from.”

Sonya and Bigby glance at each other. “I’m down for whatever.”, she says. Bigby nods. “We’ll go to the Lucky Pawn. There’s too much going on there to ignore. We’ll have a word or two with Jersey.”, Bigby said.

“You know, guys, once you two show your face there, word is going to get out. There may be nothing left to see if you go to the butcher shop after.”, Beast said.

“We’ll keep that in mind.”, Sonya said as Bigby walks to the door and opens it. Sonya exits and he follows her.

“Wait….I don’t know what you two are planning to do when you find the Crooked Man, but is there any way you two could….help us out?”, Beast asked, following to ask. They pause.

“What do you mean?”, Sonya asks. “Well, maybe you two can make this all just….go away.”, Beast suggested. “We would really appreciate it.”, Beauty adds.

“You’re asking us to kill him, aren’t you? Is that what you think we do?”, Bigby asked them, getting angry. “No! Of course not.”, Beauty shakes her head.

“I don’t know how you’d get that idea. We just….we know that the Crooked Man is dangerous. To all of Fabletown.”, Beast said.

“I just wanna know something. Even if it came to that…. which at this point, it would be self defense after everything he’s put us through, what would y’all say? How would you feel? Would you be afraid? Relieved?”, Sonya asked, making them look at her. “Because if we do, end him… I don’t wanna hear that y’all are afraid that y’all would be next.”, she says, making them look down.

“If you’re not doing anything remotely similar to the Crooked man, you have nothing to worry about. We’re gonna do our job.”, she says and turns away. “Lucky for you, that might just solve your problems anyway.”, she said, walking away.

“Thank you, guys.” Beauty calls out after them. “I’m sure you guys will do the right thing.”, Beast adds. Bigby and Sonya ride the elevator down to the lobby.

The Lucky Pawn

Sonya and Bigby looked at the rickety old building before walking in. “It’s dirty.”, they hear.

“No it’s not.”

They look over to see Toad arguing with Jack as he tries to trade in a familiar brown coat. “It looks like you slept in it. In a pile of garbage.”, Jack argues as he looks at the cloak.

“Jack, why are you– I’ve seen you take a torn purse for a tenner!”, Toad shouted. “Yeah, but I also got her phone number. I don’t want your phone number.”, Jack said, shaking his head and he looked over to see them walking towards him.

“Here we go...”, he sighed. “What?”, Toad asked and turns around to see Sonya and Bigby. “This is a surprise.”, Toad said.

“We’re just here for information. It’s about the murders.”, Bigby rolls his eyes. “This’ll take two minutes and I’ll be out your way.”, Toad said.

“I’m not taking the coat.”, Jack repeats. “But it’s magic.”, Toad said. "So?“, Jack asked, shrugging. "And it’d be covering a check I already wrote.”, Toad says.

“Okay, well….that sounds like a you problem to me.” said Jack. “Yeah, it is! And so I came here to sell it off!”, Toad shouts. Sonya sighed and noticed the coat, her eyes widened. “Isn't that Faith's coat?”

“It was Faith’s coat.”, Toad says. “Look, you left it in my place, what’d you expect me to do?”

“Yes, I think the oft-cited statute of finders keepers clearly states that it’s his now, Miss Sonya.” Jack said, smirking. Sonya clenches her jaw and gives Bigby a look. He only sighed through his nose.

“So what’s it gonna be?”, Toad asked Jack again. “I don’t know what to tell ya. See if Cindy needs a coat, I don’t know.”, Jack said and Toad let out a frustrated sigh.

He turns to the other two. “This is to pay for those bloody glamours, you know. You and your blinkered rules. If the witches didn’t charge so fuckin’ much…I wouldn’t have to be in here, dealing with this nonsense."

Sonya frowned and crossed her arms, “What happened to the money I gave you?” Toad looked down. “Please don’t tell me you spent it on some new car accessory.”, Bigby says, frowning.

"What are you even complainin’ to them, for?”, Jack asked. “I guess I don’t know.”, Toad said, shrugging. “I don’t know what you’re gettin’ so steamed about….it shouldn’t be that big of a shock that I’m not going to take an ass-hair coat.”, Jack shook his head.

“No, I guess it shouldn’t be….since this whole bleedin’ operation’s just a set-up for one of his shady fuckin’ loans.”, Toad shouts in anger, making Jack’s eyes widen, as he glances at Bigby and Sonya. “Ix-nay on the oan-lays. Okay, og-fray?”, Jack whispered to him. “I mean, what kind of a game are you runnin’ here?”, Toad asked.

“Toad–”

“You turn down peoples’ stuff so you can peddle his shit?”, Toad asked. “We know who you’re talking about.”, Bigby said, crossing his arms. “Um, Og-Fray?”, he asked, pointing at Toad.

“The Crooked Man. Right? This is his place. Those are his loans.”, Sonya said, also crossing her arms. Toad smiles mischievously and grabs the coat. “Well, I’ll leave you to your business….I’m sure you’ll have a lot to talk about.”

“Good luck with that glamour, Toad.”, Jack sneers as Toad starts to walk away. “Fuck off.”, Toad shouts at him. “Leave the coat.”, Bigby ordered firmly.

“How the hell do you expect me to get a glamour, then?”, Toad asked, throwing the coat down on the floor. “It’s not like I’ve got a lot of options, you know. It’s just tough, is all.“

“Just do what I fuckin’ say, alright?”, Bigby said, getting irritated. “Leave the coat. Find another way.”

“Fine! I’m leaving…but I’m taking the coat with me!”, Toad said, angrily. Sonya sighed, pulling the wad of cash from her pocket. Bigby looked at her. “Where the hell did you get that?”

She gave him a guilty smile and handed it to Toad. “However much it costs, its worth it, Toad. Just go get your glamour, if not for you then do it for T.J. Please.”, she said, exasperated. Toad sighs and snatches the wad before leaving. Jack smiles and waves. “Have a good day.”

“He really grows in ya.”, Jack said, smiling. Bigby and Sonya face him, making him frightened. "Look, I work here sometimes for the extra cash. It’s something stable. You know, between more….entrepreneurial bouts. And…before either of you ask, I’ve never seen the Crooked Man in here. Neither hide nor hair, and all that. In fact, as far as I can tell, he’s never even actually stepped foot in here.“, Jack explained.

"But Bloody Mary works for him. And the last time we saw her, she had the Woodsman’s axe.”, Bigby said, leaning on the counter, glaring at Jack. “So?”, Jack asked, nervously. “So, the last time anybody else saw that axe….it was here.”, Sonya said.

“We’d never take something like that.”, Jack said. “Bullshit.”, Sonya says, surprising Jack. “Is this really why you two came down here?”, Jack asked, nervously. “We’ll be asking the questions here, Jack.”, Bigby said, shutting him up. “Okay. Fine. Fire away.”, Jack said.

“Where’s your boss? Why isn’t he here?”, Bigby asked. “I don’t know?”, Jack says. “You know something, so where is he?”, Sonya asked.

“I dunno, I don’t keep tabs on him. He’s probably out getting shit faced and eating cows right now. Listen, I gotta start closing up shop, so, uh–”, Jack said as he walked out from behind the counter.

“Close? It’s the middle of the day.”, Bigby pointed out. "What can I say, Jersey likes to run at odd hours. And, really, he’d be the one to talk to, so….can’t you two just swing by later. It really wouldn’t be good for me if he sees your faces when he walks in. So, uh…“, Jack said .

"What else can you tell us about Jersey Devil?” Bigby asked. “Just that he’s a fuckin’ psycho and I like to stay out of his way. I typically work when he’s not here. But I can call you when he comes back, alright?”, Jack says.

"Jack, shut up.”, Sonya said. “If the Jersey Devil isn’t here to answer our questions….it also means he isn’t here to get in our way. So, we’re gonna take a look around…as long as we’ve got the elbow room.”

“Alright. Don’t let me get in your way.”, Jack said, locking up. “We won’t.”, Bigby said, walking over to a different side of the room.

Bigby walked up to a small statue of the Headless Horseman that was on the far left of the room. “The Headless Horseman? Isn’t this Crane’s?”, Bigby asked. “Maybe? I don’t know.”, Jack shrugged.

Bigby rolled his eyes, walked next to the table and saw a familiar dagger. “This is Prince Lawrence’s dagger. Who sold this?”, he says, catching Sonya's attention.

“I don’t know.”, Jack repeated, shrugging. “Who would have done that? One of the Tweedles….”, Sonya mumbled. “Whoever did it, must’ve needed the money bad. Which shouldn’t come as a total shock. You guys don’t know how hard most of us have it….do you?", Jack asks.

"Yeah? If you had our job, you wouldn’t get out of bed.”, Bigby growled. “It was a rhetorical question….but sure, fine.”, Jack rolled his eyes.

"At least you aren't dead.", Sonya says as she looks through all of the significant objects in the display cases. Nothing out of the ordinary. Bigby walks over to a display that caught his eyes. Cleaving Axe.

Previous owner: The Woodsman

Ensorcelled by Druids

His chest rumbled with a growl as he turned to Jack. “I thought you said you’d never take something like this.", Bigby growls. Sonya looks up to see Bigby storm over to Jack angrily.

“Um….um, what?” Jack stammered, nervously. “Jack?”, Bigby asked. “Uh, yeah?”, Jack replied, nervously again.

“When was Mary here?” Bigby asked him, raising an eyebrow. “When was who here?” Jack said. Sonya rolled her eyes. "Please don't play dumb."

“Bloody Mary. Because the axe was here….but it’s gone. And she had it. So she was here.”, Bigby said.

“I don’t know anything about that.”, Jack said, stepping back. “I don’t. Really.”

Bigby pulls up the little hatch table, and stalks over to Jack like a predator. “I mean, I don’t work every day, so….and even when I do work, I just try and keep my head down.”, Jack rambles.

Sonya crosses her arms. "You'd be no better than Georgie. Looking away because you got your cut and don't care about innocent people getting hurt. It's bullshit."

Bigby growled loudly, making Jack flinch. "Okay, okay! It was Mary, she took it, okay. That’s all I know!”, Jack exclaimed.

“That’s all you know? You don’t know she almost fucking killed me with it last night!?”, Bigby snarled. “No, no, I had no goddamned idea! She sometimes comes in to pick up shit. Sometimes it’s for her….”, Jack said.

“You know where she lives? Where she took it?”, Sonya asked. “I don’t know where that crazy chick lives, and I don’t wanna know.”, Jack said, shaking his head.

“Well, for your sake, you better think of something to tell us.”, Bigby growled. “That’s all I can tell you. I’m being straight here! I’m just part-time. I mean, it’s Jersey who’s the one who’s into this stuff! He’s one of the Crooked Man’s boys, okay? And it’d be great if he was here to tell you all this, but he’s not, so just–”, Jack was cut off by two extra voices from outside.

"Shit....“, Sonya mutters. "Jersey, don’t give me that shit. What the fuck is the point of havin’ a system if you’re just gonna–”

“It’s not my fuckin’ system.”

“But you’re the guy who makes sure that–”

“I’m the guy that keeps shit in order and that’s it, Woody.”

Bigby ducks down and Sonya ducks behind another display case, watching as Woody and another man walk in the building and see the gate was pulled down. “Who closed the fucking gate? Jack?”, Jersey called, irritated.

He pulls up the gate, revealing himself clearly. He was a balding, gingered man with a thick mustache. He turns to face Woody. “If you love your axe so fuckin’ much, why’d you pawn it in the first fuckin’ place, huh?”

“I didn’t pawn it, asshole. It was stolen from my apartment. And Gren said that he saw it here. Now tell me where it is right fuckin’ now.”, Woody demanded.

Sonya and Bigby, reveal themselves, walking over to the two arguing men.

“Whatcha guys arguing about?", Sonya asked with a smile. Jersey jumps looking behind him and rolls his eyes. “God. And these fuckin’ guys, too?”

“Bigby? Sonya? What are you–”, Woody started to ask but Jersey cuts him off as he looks at Jack. “Is his axe even here?”, he asked. “Nope. It isn’t.”, Jack shook his head.

“Just like I said, it’s not here. Happy?”, Jersey asks and walks over to Sonya and Bigby. “So tell me what you two are here for, or get the fuck out."

"Uh….they wanted to know where–”

“Actually, you know what, I don’t care what they wanted.”, Jersey said, interrupting Jack, smirking.

Sonya rolls her eyes. "Such a salesman." Bigby walked up. “You work with the Crooked Man.”, he said firmly. “And until we give you permission…you’re not gonna do anything but answer our questions.”

Jersey glanced at Bigby's arm. “How’s your arm, Sheriff? Bloody Mary leaves a bit of a sting, don’t she?”

He turned to Jack. “Jack, did you know that as of this very morning, Bigby's joined the Crooked Man’s obedience school for wayward fucking creatures? He’s already passed his first class. You see….the Sheriff and the Deputy had, who they stupidly thought was the murderer….been chasing him for fuckin’ days, right? But the Crooked Man snapped his bony fingers….and these two handed him over just…like…that.”

“I’m, uh, just gonna, uh…let you three…you know….”, Jack said, backing away and leaving.

“The Crooked Man appreciated that.”, Jersey said, making them glare at him. “Tell us everything you know right now about the murders, and the Crooked Man.”, Bigby ordered.

“Are you kidding me! It was here. It was right fuckin’ here! What’d you do with it!?”, Woody shouted as he got in Jersey’s face. “How the fuck do I know?”, Jersey asked.

“Listen, you bald little dipshit, you’re gonna–”, Woody started to threaten, grasping Jersey by his shirt but Jersey punches Woody in the stomach. Woody groans and growled at him. “You piece of shit.” Wood throws a punch, making Jersey retaliate.

Bigby moved Sonya out of the way and got in between them, shoving them away from each other. “Back it up, Jersey. You’re dealing with us, now.”, Bigby said, facing Jersey as he gets in front of Woody.

“I didn’t expect to see you upright. Still looking for whoever killed them hookers or are you done chasing your tail?”, Jersey asked.

“Where’s my axe! Who’d you give it to!”, Woody yelled. “You follow me here all the way from Battery fucking Park…just so I can prove to you that your axe isn’t here…and you think I’m gonna take another inch of abuse-”, Jersey started fussing.

“Hey! Back off and settle down!” Bigby ordered. “Oh what the fuck are you gonna do? You talk big, but I don’t think you got the stones to back it up.”, Jersey said to Bigby as he punched Bigby in the side where he was injured.

“Bigby!”, Sonya exclaimed, watching him double over in pain. “Still a little sore, are we?” Jersey asked Bigby. “Why should Mary get all the fun? You ain’t so tough.”

Sonya silently walks behind him as he continues to put Bigby down. “Ya know what? I’m just gonna handle you myself….and I won’t need no silver bullets.”

Sonya grabbed him and slammed him against the glass display cases. He yells in pain as she grabs his head and slams it against the case.

“Motherfucker!”, he grumbles as she slams his head against it again and the glass breaks and his face hits the crystal ball.

She grimaced as she pulled his head back, seeing pieces of the crystal ball impaled in his face. “What the hell are you doing?”, Woody yells, pulling her off of Jersey. “This is my fucking fight!”

“Get your hands off of her!”, Bigby yelled, snatching Sonya away. “Dog, you got a lotta nerve–”, Woody shouted but a strange noise made them look over to see a tall, skeletal creature. It almost looked like a skinwalker. Sonya's eyes widened. "That's Jersey…?", she whispered.

He roars at them, making their eyes widen. Woody charges at him but Jersey simply smacks him to the side and starts to charge at Bigby and Sonya but Woody holds on to Jersey’s arm and pulls him down.

Jersey gets on top of Woody and starts to claw at him repeatedly. Bigby runs up to them and punt kicks Jersey over the glass counter and knocks him towards the back and hits a closet.

Bigby changed to his first form, cracking his neck as he stood in a defensive stance. “Aww, protecting your girlie friend….too bad you couldn’t protect those whores.”, Jersey said, tauntingly as he climbed up on the counter. “Go on, try to stop me!”

He jumps off the table and charges towards them but Bigby raises his clawed hand and shoves his claw into Jersey, slamming him down on the floor.

“Fucking stay down!”, Bigby snarled. Woody gets up and looks at the open, broken closet and sees his axe. “There she is!”, he said, satisfied.

Sonya and Bigby kicked Jersey to the floor and ran over to him, as he landed near the front door. They grabbed the gates and slammed it down on the back of his neck.

Jersey screams as they pull it up then start to slam it back down but Jersey grabs it and shoves it up. He starts to claw at them but they jump away from his attacks.

Bigby punches Jersey in the face repeatedly before Jersey lowers his head and tries to shove his horns into Bigby. Bigby dodges Jersey's horns and grabs one, tugging it out of Jersey’s head then shoves it into his stomach. Jersey screams in pain then shoves Bigby against the display case.

Bigby groans in pain as Jersey jumps in front of him then shoves one of his clawed hands into Bigby’s injured arm. Bigby yells in pain. “Fucker!"

Jersey shoves his claw deeper into Bigby’s arm and Sonya jumps on Jersey’s back, lighting her hands on fire and burning his neck. Jersey screams out in pain, pulling his claw out of Bigby.

Sonya increased her heat, nearly gagging at the burnt smell before she's pulled off of Jersey's back and slammed onto the floor. Sonya's eyes widened as her breath was knocked out of her.

"Hey asshole. I found her.”, Woody announces before slamming his axe down into Jersey’s head. Jersey lets out a shriek of pain and he slaps Woody to the side and tries to pull the axe out.

Bigby looks next to him and picks up an anvil, raises it above his head then slammed it down on Jersey, knocking him down on the floor.

Bigby pushes the anvil to the side, reverting back to his human form and helps Sonya stand. She looks at his arm. “You okay?”, she asked. “More or less. You?”, he said, shrugging. "More or less.", she smiled, catching her breath.

Woody walks over to Jersey, yanking his axe out of Jersey’s head. He hovers the axe over Jersey’s neck and he looks up at Bigby and nods. Bigby squats down next to Jersey. “So…..wanna try again?”

“You can’t find the Crooked Man. No one can. There’s no address, no place….he lives in the bends and forks of tree roots….behind the sun….in the….shadows.”, Jersey says. “You know more so tell us.”, Sonya ordered.

“The door to his house….it bounces around. Never in one spot. You’ll never find it. Even Crane had to use the Magic Mirror….that fuckin’ guy. Mirror, Mirror…fuckin’ shit…”, Jersey grumbles. “Okay, that’s Crane’s way….how do you contact him?”, Bigby asked him.

“I don’t. He uses couriers for everything. Ravens, goblins, the fuckin’ Tweedles…whatever. I go in when I’m taken there. You don’t know anything….about anything, do you? What do you have? Nothin’. That useless bitch, Snow White, and a broken fuckin’ mirror….no fuckin’ friends. And no clue about who is really runnin’ this town.”, Jersey said.

Sonya grabs his arm, sizzling his wrist and watching him struggle in pain. "You're going round and round with our question. You and everyone we've met up 'til now have said the exact same thing. We're asking questions for a reason. So answer them." She lets go. “Now, where did you hear that the mirror got broken?”

“Oh. That. Gossip flies fast. We’re like a sewing circle. It doesn’t matter what you fuckin’ do, you’re not gonna get him. You two wanna knock on his fuckin’ door and see what happens? Fine. Crane had the Mirror. Bloody Mary had Crane. So take your fucking wrecking crew act to the butcher shop.”, Jersey says.

“The Cut Above.”, Bigby mutters, remembering Beast's words. “And if we can find the mirror piece there, we can find the Crooked Man.”

“That’s her spot. That’s where all the magic happens….”, Jersey says as Woody backs away and takes his axe away from his neck. Jersey begins to crawl back. “Now leave me so I can find me some aspirin.”, he says, only to fall face down on the floor.

“Will Mary be there?”, Bigby asked Jersey. “You want me to draw you a picture? I don’t fucking know….you got what you want, now get the fuck outta here….”, Jersey ordered.

Sonya sighed, glancing at Bigby as he glanced at her before starting to leave. Jersey speaks up again. “Hey…Sheriff….Deputy."

Both of them stop, hearing Jersey out. "Those girls are still dead….and there’s nothin’ you two can do to bring them back. And I don’t know what they did, but I do know this… if they’re dead, it’s cause the Crooked Man wanted them dead. That’s all it takes. So you can roar, smash the place up. Shit, you can wail on me all you want, but what good is it gonna do ya? Cause he ain’t in your town. You’re in his.”

Bigby growls lowly, turns around and kicks Jersey in the face, making him yell in pain. “Just shut the fuck up, will ya?”, Bigby said, turning back around, and leading Sonya and Woody out of the shop.

Bigby pulls out a cigarette, making Sonya turn away. “Got a smoke?”, Woody asked him. Bigby lights his cigarette and hands it to Woody, before lighting another one up for himself. “Thanks.”, Woody said, taking a drag. “Shitty brand.”

Bigby side eyed him. “You’re welcome.” Sonya waved her hand to dispel the smoke.

“I’m not gonna lie, I was having trouble deciding which one of you to hit with this thing.” Woody said to Bigby. Sonya gaped at Woody, making Bigby shake his head. Bigby drops the cigarette and squishes it under his shoe.

Sonya waved a cab down and waited as it came up. She climbs in first, waiting on Bigby. Bigby starts to follow suit but Woody calls him. “Jersey was wrong, you know.”

“About what?”, Bigby asked.

“About those girls. There is somethin’ you two can do about it. You can get the fucker who did it. Ain’t that the plan?”, Woody asked.

“You're damn right it is.”, Bigby says, smiling. “Alright. Well….go do it, then.”, Woody says before he starts walking away. Bigby stands outside the cab, looking at the retreating man. “Hey Woody.”

Woody stops, keeping his back faced toward the other man. “Yeah?”

“I’ll see you around, alright?”, Bigby said. Woody turns his head to look at Bigby over his shoulder. “Yeah, I’ll see ya.”, he says and finally walks away. Bigby looks down for a moment then he climbs in the cab, sighing softly.

Sonya smiled at him. "You guys have such great teamwork. You'd think you'd wanna stop fighting each other."

"That's practically all I wanna do. But sometimes he makes it hard to get along with him.", Bigby mutters. She nodded. "He is pretty difficult to deal with… ", she mumbles, sleepily.

He noticed and sat up a bit. "You can sleep, y'know. It'll be a bit of a while before we get there." She yawned and nodded. "I think I will..."

She let her eyes close and seconds later, she's out. He smiles, leaning his head back against his seat. He jumps a bit to feel a little weight leaning on him and sees Sonya leaning against him, sound asleep.

He stares at her for a moment then relaxes as she snuggles into him a bit. He felt light. She didn't wake up and pull away as if he were something disgusting. She was the opposite of anyone that even remotely showed him any kindness.

She always seemed so comfortable with him. Never tiptoeing around him or doing things for him out of fear or pity.

She never made him feel like a ticking time bomb and even defended him countless of times. It made his heart swell in a strange way he's never felt before but it made him comfortable enough to accept it.

14 notes · View notes